#as a last thought: would totally recommend making pants it’s not nearly as hard as it looks

[tainted-wine]

The Spring Bird Survival Guide

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(So many of you have asked for a part two of my rutting Hawks fic. I gave in! I have no idea how this holds up compared to the first, but I hope you enjoy!)

Read Part 1 if you haven’t! This takes place directly after those events!

Words: 10k (WHOOPS)

Warnings: None, except for an absurd amount of scene transitions that hopefully don’t get too confusing.

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Tuesday

The chorus of songbirds can be heard right outside of Hawks’s window, their small shapes dashing past and making the peeking sunlight flicker across the bedroom. It sounds like it’s gonna be a beautiful day. He’d be elated, if he wasn’t feeling so ill already.

The fever and itch were coming back, like a hot rash that he couldn’t scratch because it was inside of him. He was really hoping to never feel such a hellish sensation ever again.

He slowly peeled the thick sheets off, making sure not to disturb his bedmate as he sat up. There’s no way the quirk’s effects were returning, is there? Last night, the feeling had only gotten weaker with every passing hour. Now it has returned, not in full force, but once again difficult to ignore. He peered over his shoulder to check on his guest.

You were still sound asleep, worn body supported by pillows all over as if you were in danger of falling apart. While Hawks was healing that night, your aches had only gotten worse. He at least managed to convince you that you were in no condition to drive back home and the safer choice was to stay at his place. You were still wearing the clothes he gave you, while he himself donned only a cozy pair of pants. Such a shame that you didn’t take kindly to his request to sleep nude together. Seriously, what was even the issue? He’s already seen every inch of your body, and in every angle possible.

Every hot, sweaty, mouthwatering angle possible.

The internal fire suddenly rushed to his groin, making him slap a hand over his mouth to muffle a groan. He shouldn’t be around you in this state; might as well get up early and prepare for work.

The moment he was on his feet and stretching, a buzz was heard on the nightstand. Your phone vibrated against the smooth wood as it lit up and revealed the caller’s name.

Ah, the good ol’ deputy.

What that nagging old man wanted was between him and you. It wasn’t Hawks’s right to force himself between whatever matters the two of you had to discuss.

Those facts aren’t going to stop his nosy ass, however.

The phone was snatched from the stand without a second thought, the hero walking out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible before answering. “Mornin’, sir,” Hawks greeted. You were the only ‘superior’ he could toy with; any unruly behavior around the actual important people came with a high risk of punishment. Taking his frustrations out on you has been a blast, but after the bind you freed him from yesterday…

“Hawks? May I ask what you’re doing with your handler’s phone?” The deputy questioned.

‘I completely wrecked her last night. The poor lady didn’t survive.’ He considered the joke for a second, but decided that the stuffy bastard wouldn’t appreciate it. “She’s still snoozing. Yesterday was pretty rough on her. I think she deserves a little slack.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” he said sternly, like he was offended that Hawks dared to make a suggestion. Hell, he probably was. “Well, since you’re here, I suppose I can ask you directly. How are you feeling? Has the quirk worn off?”

His wings flapped and fanned himself. “Oh, so much better, sir! You guys have the best solutions to everything, don’t you? Never doubted you for a second.” Truthfully, if his moral compass was more stable, he’d say that offering an unsuspecting woman to him like some maiden sacrifice was just a little twisted. He can’t help but wonder if he would have refused if he was thinking straight at the time.

“Very good. So you are not feeling any lingering effects? Do your usual rutting symptoms feel stronger at all?”

“Eh…” Hawks hesitated. Should he bother trying to hide it? If there’s anything he’s learned from his mentally taxing undercover work, it’s that half-truths are often the best answer. “Feels like it’s still floating around in me, but nothing to worry about. It won’t be getting in the way of my work.”

“That’s great to hear. We don’t want you hurting your image with any more of your brutish displays in public. Please keep those special traits to yourself.”

That made his lip twitch. It really shouldn’t bother him. The Commission has always expressed their distaste for his more animalistic habits, but fuck, would it kill them to at least show some pity when it’s his very own instincts that are causing his suffering? “You got it, sir.” His calm response didn’t betray his irritation.

“And if you do start having issues, then I recommend that you turn to your handler again. In fact, I was calling to inform her that we have found a more competent individual to replace her.”

Oh. That’s…ouch.

“Really? I kinda like her,” Hawks admitted. It’s pretty awkward to be discussing your possible termination on your phone during a call that was meant for you.

The deputy gave a dry laugh. “Of course you do. She has absolute zero control over you. I was hoping you were mature and disciplined enough to not take advantage of her inexperience, but I suppose I was expecting too much of you.”

Yeah, he kinda was, honestly. No argument there. “So sorry, sir. I won’t let it happen again.” Maybe.

“You better make sure of it. As I was saying, we’ll keep her around in case you are in need of more relief. Once your hormones have stabilized, I will give her the news and you will be rid of her.”

Hawks actually snorted from just how fucked up that plan was.

The cruel man ignored the sound and went on. “Can I trust you to stay quiet about this? I’d rather not have to deal with any constant badgering for however long this goes on.”

‘Totally! There’s no need for her to know that she’s only being kept around to be my fucktoy and then get fired immediately afterwards.’ Man, what an organization that he works for. Too bad they have him whipped and incapable of defying them. “Your secret’s safe with me, sir.”

“Good. Well, this call didn’t go as planned, but it was satisfying enough. I’m expecting you to remain in top condition during your duties. Do not disappoint us.” He hung up without waiting for Hawks’s response.

The winged man didn’t even notice the perspiration quickly coating his body until the phone nearly slipped out of his slick hands. As he returned to his room and placed your device back where it was, he couldn’t help but watch your sleeping form.

You were always cute, he’s not gonna lie about that. Finding new ways to embarrass you on the job became a new type of thrill for him. Your blushful glares never got old.

But he never thought that he’d see you like this, or the state that you were in yesterday. His mind was barely there as he was shrouded in that prankster of a villain’s quirk, but he could still feel you all over his extra sensitive feathers. He was practically drowning in you at the time.

The smell of your arousal. The taste of the glaze on your pussy. The sweet songs of pleasure. The look of overwhelming bliss on your face.

Your soft skin, and your hot wet opening that he wanted to invade over and over again…

“Keigo?”

He doesn’t know when you woke up, or when the hell he crawled into the bed with his face so close to yours that he could feel your breath. “Uh…”

“Are you alright? You’re looking feverish again. And…” You looked down in concern, and Hawks followed your gaze to see the full erection that totally snuck up on him.

“Whoa! Sorry about that! Little guy doesn’t know when to quit.” Hawks scooted away, trying and failing to hide the tent in his pants.

You attempted to sit up, only to wince and settle back down. “Dammit, I can’t believe how much I’m hurting from yesterday. This is embarrassing.” You groaned and snuggled up to the many pillows.

He couldn’t resist planting a kiss on your forehead, ignoring how the brief contact made his hardness twitch. “Sorry, angel. Really wish I wasn’t such an animal back there. Just stay still; I’ll get you some fresh water for your painkillers.”

You look like you wanted to say something, but decided on closing your eyes and trying to relax instead. “Thanks.”

He was already rushing out of the room, heading into the kitchen to fill the empty glass while considering dowsing himself in the cold tap water.

Why, why the fuck was it coming back? Just looking at you was making his vision foggy again. It can’t be his rut; it never made him this excited before. He didn’t have the courage to return to the bed, alternatively placing the cup onto a hardened feather and floating it back to you. He stayed where he was, leaning against the sink and wiping at his face. The heat remained at a manageable level as long as he kept his distance from you, but he wanted to stay close. He had to stay close and protect the woman he was now mated to.

Wait, what?

“Keigo?” He heard you call out and was pulled from his confusing thoughts. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hawks gave a laugh that didn’t sound all that convincing to his own ears. “Bad news, babe. I think I’m still a horny bird,” he confessed.

There was a pause. Maybe you had taken a sip. “I don’t know if they told you, but when the deputy explained your…situation, he said that the symptoms of your rut will probably be amplified until it’s over.”

Ah, the old man did mention that over the phone. He only had about a week of his yearly phase left, but if this all means intensified aggression and arousal, not to mention the attachment to the lady he just banged for several hours…

This was going to be a very difficult week.

“Babe?” He said just loud enough for you to hear.

“Yes?”

“…I really fucked up by not taking my meds, didn’t I?”

He didn’t exactly hear your sigh, but it was still felt through his wings. “I’m afraid you did.”

Yeah, this was all his fault. This bullshit would only be half as painful if he was still taking his stupid hormone medication like he has been for years. Not only do these unrestrained imbalances feel foreign to his body, but Libido’s quirk practically put them on steroids.

The medicine’s side effects don’t sound all that bad anymore.

—————

Hawks had already eaten a slice of leftover pizza by the time you finally mustered up the strength to get up. The feel of your entire lower body cramping made you whimper and stumble.

He was already scrambling back in to catch you and hold you up, his high body temperature startling you. “Thank you,” you said wearily.

He froze for a second before jumping back, the sudden loss of support almost making you fall anyway. He wordlessly strutted over to his wardrobe, withdrawing a fresh pair of underwear. 

You looked away when the pants were pulled down and his hardness sprang free. He’s not just going to ignore that, is he?

“Keigo, do you need to…do this…again?” You asked, tuning out the throb of your muscles.

He chuckled as he began to dress himself . “You are not up for more sex, baby. Don’t even act like it when you can barely stand.”

You huffed. “You’re getting really hot again and you shouldn’t go out feeling like th—”

“Nope.” His boner is covered again, somewhat. He stares at the obvious protrusion before shrugging and retrieving his hero outfit.

Even with your aches, you had the grit to push on. “As long as you go slow, I can probably handle it.”

“Mmmm, can’t promise that,” he murmured while momentarily detaching his wings in order to squeeze into his tight black shirt. “The second I’m inside you, I might lose control and shatter your pelvis.”

That’s horrifying, but… “I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me.”

“Keigo…”

“And don’t get too attached to that name, dove. Can’t have it slipping out in public.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me, since you’ve offered me your tender pussy twice already. Do you want me to pound you into mush?”

“Language, Hawks!” You strictly reminded him, undeterred by your wobbly legs as you tried to remind him who was in charge.

Hawks shot you a look, his face crinkled into furrowed eyebrows and a crooked grin, a look that screamed ‘Seriously?’

“Listen, ma’am, wood happens. I’ve dealt with it plenty of times like any other guy, so I’m telling you that I don’t need to bang to get rid of this.” He pulled up his tan loose pants, the bulge not as obvious, but still visible. “But if you really insist on ordering me to fuck you silly, be my guest.”

You weren’t exactly going to do that, it’s just that Hawks was acting so unfazed by his strong arousal, but his body was very clearly telling a different story. His breathing was heavier than necessary, and every time after he made eye contact with you, it’s like he had to spend a minute to compose himself. However, if he’s confident that he can endure…

“Fine,” you sighed, watching him suit up with more interest than you cared to admit. You hobbled on out and into the kitchen.

“Need help, granny?” You heard him offer. “I can fly you to your place if your legs still aren’t working.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled in annoyance at both him and your uncooperative limbs. The fridge was yanked open and you frowned at its contents. The pizza and chicken wings were the only real food he had, the rest being sugary snacks or microwave meals. Looks like ‘keeping a healthy diet’ will have to be added to your Hawks Maintenance list.

The flaps of wings were heard behind you as Hawks headed for the door, fully geared up and ready for hero work. “Welp, you’re a big girl that can handle yourself. Drive safely, babe. Can’t wait to hear what you have to nag me about at the office.”

“Hmph,” you gave a smirk of your own when you turned away from the humming microwave. “Probably about the next mistake you make for all of the internet to see.”

He waved dismissively and opened the door, the morning sun illuminating him with an enchanting glow. “Come on, have some faith in me. I’ll be careful.”

Crimson wings spread as he steps outside, but the door closes before you can watch him take off.

—————

Buzzfood.com

HAWKS SPORTS STIFFY ON THE JOB

Written by Yuki Burushito

Now, I know that I’ve been posting enough Hawks-related articles to last a year, but can you blame me with all the weird behavior he’s been exhibiting this month? You probably think that I have a boner for the guy, but let me tell you this: one of us has a boner, and it isn’t me.

Everyone’s favorite hawk was hiding a woodpecker in his pants today. The best part is that it apparently lasted hours, given that it was mentioned in several incidents throughout the day, but the clearest example was when he subdued a mugger at noon, which was filmed by a bystander and is already making the rounds across the web.

Yet another extreme apprehension from Hawks—though it doesn’t top the beating he gave to that frisky peacock—I sure didn’t expect the fast-working hero to swoop down on a fleeing thief and slam him into the ground. I’m certain that a few feathers would have done the job just fine. When the pinned mugger felt Hawks Jr. poking at his back, he lifted his busted face off the ground and screamed, “Is this shit turning you on?!”

While everyone is currently having a field day with that meme-able clip, the answer is most likely no. Hawks was hard before the mugging occurred. Since I’ll probably be writing about him again by...I don’t know, tomorrow, I’ll cut to the chase. You have probably heard the theories that Hawks is experiencing some sort of rut. 

Well, it’s time for me to come out and say that I fully support those theories. “But Mr. Burushito!” I hear you say. “If this is something as regular as a rut, how come he’s never acted this wild before?” My answer to that is: I have no idea. He’s still a rather young man; maybe whatever sexual cycles his body possesses have only started appearing recently.

Honestly, you can never be sure with mutant types. Their bodies never make any damn sense.

“I take offense to that last sentence.”

You didn’t react to Hawks’s comment as you both read the article on your phones. After seeing multiple images of ‘Hard Hawks’, as he’s been nicknamed, taken by several random civilians and shared on their social media accounts, you knew it was only a matter of time before these petty news sites decided to take a bite out of the fresh meat.

Maybe this was your fault for trusting the hormonal bird that was currently seated in front of you while you stood across his desk. The only reason you aren’t scolding him right now is because he already looks so damn miserable. He had removed his protective headphones and visor right after finishing his patrols. A desk fan was turned to its highest setting, blowing directly into the hero’s sweaty face as he tried his hardest to focus on the small screen in his hands. He hasn’t looked at you since you’ve entered the office, but distressed or not, there was a certain matter you had to discuss.

“The deputy apparently called me this morning,” you started, ready to see how he reacts.

You notice him tense for just a second as he continues to scroll through whatever it is he’s looking at.

“It says that I had taken the call, but I sure don’t remember that. What I do remember is that you were awake before me.” Your hands were on your hips, waiting for Hawks to answer to your unspoken accusation. “Well?”

He still stared down at his phone, but it didn’t seem like he was actually looking at anything, his mind elsewhere. “Yeah yeah, I talked to him,” he admitted groggily.

You’re more angered by the fact that the deputy never bothered to call you back, leaving you in the dark from whatever he and Hawks had discussed. “So, what did you two talk about? You know, during my call that was meant for me?”

Hawks finally laid his glassy eyes on you. The energy surrounding him was drastically different from this morning and it made you just a tad anxious. Your body truly didn’t feel up to it when you offered him more sex this morning, but you knew it would be better than him reverting to another delirious state. “In a nutshell, he wants us to keep fucking until I’m better.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “What? He didn’t think it was important to tell me about this?”

He leaned far back into his chair and smiled, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. “Guess not. But hey, you’re doing your job anyway, already serving yourself to me the minute you see a hard-on.”

You glared, considering storming out of the room and calling that asshole immediately. “I don’t appreciate him expecting me to be your personal whore.”

“I know, I know. He’s a real douche, isn’t he? How about we both blow off some steam?” He was already scooting out of his chair and making his way around the desk. “I’m just making one mistake after another. Shoulda just said yes to you this morning. Never pays to be a nice guy, does it?” His voice was sounding rougher with each word, like his throat was changing into a sandpaper tube as he stopped right in front of you.

You trembled, making the mistake of looking down and spotting the erection that was very much still present.

For the sake of your still-burning body, you might need some time to mentally prepare for this. “Alright…but before we leave, just let me—”

“Leave?” Two hands clasped onto your shoulders hard, holding you in place. The raptorial eyes held yours captive, stirring up a heat within you despite your unease. “We’re doing this right here, right now.”

“Wha-I-but-” Your stutters were ignored as he turned you to the desk and bent you over, your back muscles screaming in protest. All of his weight was pressing into you, his deprived cock pushing against your ass.

“And everyone’s already left for tonight, so it’s just you and me.” He’s eagerly yanking your pants down then does the same for his own. 

His fingers wasted no time in groping your sex, the swipes against your folds triggering a steady flow of slick arousal. There should be no one else in the building at this time, but your paranoia still makes you clap a hand over your mouth as you gasp from his sinful touches.

“Mmm, already getting wet for me?” He cooed behind you, his breath feeling like heat emanating from an open flame. “My brave little hen, willing to take as many poundings as she can.”

That’s a pet name you haven’t heard before. Teeth scrape across the space between your neck and shoulder while the head of his cock lubricates itself along your fleshy petals. When he pierces you with a strong jab of his hips, the light nips on your skin become a full-on bite, muffling his own cry. For you, however, the sharp sensation of being filled so suddenly combined with the pain of his teeth pinching into the crook of your neck had you wailing through your hand.

He was already setting a quick pace, giving your bitten area a few apologetic licks before leaning back to properly grip your hips and plow you. Your entire body was rocked forward with each impact, the harsh stroking of your inner walls bringing forth a raw pleasure that you admittedly missed.

But that wasn’t enough to ignore the resurging aches all over you. Your sensitive ass cheeks have become very familiar with slapping against his abdomen, every pleasurable collision also shooting pain up your lower back, and his probing dick was showing no mercy to your delicate insides.

“Haw—ah, Hawks! You need…you need to slow down!” You quavered.

The only response was a series of savage pants and growls as his violent movements continued, informing you that all of his sense and reasoning has disappeared once again. You remember the warning he gave you this morning, and fear that his quip about breaking your pelvis may have been more than just a joke.

You try to twist yourself just enough to see his face and speak to him more directly, but a hand on your back shoves you hard onto the desk, leaving your breasts and belly to scrape against the wooden surface. At least you weren’t fully stripped for this.

How the hell did this happen so fast? He was speaking just a minute ago! Do the after-effects of Libido’s quirk ruin Hawks’s mind that quickly the second his dick touches a pussy?

A moan was being ripped from your throat with every thrust as he upped the speed and force. He was showing no signs of stopping, and your thighs were beginning to cramp. The mixture of colorful pleasure and throbbing pains was making every inch of you shake. His fierce sounds were becoming distant—even with your legs on the verge of giving out and your back muscles crying, you welcomed the fog of bliss that was ready to carry you away.

Your poor legs finally crumpled like frail sticks, only for the frustrated animal behind you to lift your hips up until your entire body was on the desk, arms now dangling over the edge. There was only enough time to reposition your numbed limbs into a low doggy position before Hawks was climbing onto the desk himself, crouching over you and wasting no time in continuing his pummeling.

“Haw…ah…nngh…” Your feeble attempt to speak was quickly squandered. The new angle allowed him to easily strike your more sensitive spots, making your moans even louder. The desk jolted with each powerful jerk of his hips, the feral hero’s wings extending and flapping in sync with his thrusts, papers flying off the desk from the gusts of wind. Through all of the soreness and delightful trembles, you wondered what the current scene looked like to a spectator—the sight of this delirious bird beast, sounding a loud lustful tune of primal urges and carnal desires as he hysterically claimed you.

Your eyes roll back as the hot ripples in your core grow into pulsating waves, Hawks’s unwavering strokes prolonging the intoxicating climax as you quiver under him. You thought you heard a sound from the staggering desk—a snap—but your mind was too far gone at the moment to care.

Hawks tried desperately to keep pumping through your tightening walls, but your delicious grasp on him was draining his stamina. You were gripping the edge of his workspace for dear life, the orgasmic throbs still wracking your body as he rabbit fucked you, ready to fill your womb with the load that has been prepared since morning…

It all happened in slow motion...the sound of wood and metal breaking, the weightless feeling of falling...you had registered it all just a second too late. Your abused body dropped with the collapsing desk, Hawks’s weight crashing down on top of you while papers slowly floated toward the floor. Both of you laid there in agony, the chair somehow falling over and onto Hawks for added insult. A few groaned words revealed that the winged man was fully aware again.

“Augh, fuck…my balls.”

—————

Wednesday

“Here’s all of the completed paperwork, Hawks sir!”

Hawks beamed at the intern entering his office with a stack of papers. “Ah, thanks, Springer! You’re a real lifesaver, ya know that?”

The aspiring ‘Bouncing Hero’ hopped excitedly on his peculiar coiled legs as he handed over the documents. “Thank you, sir! I’m always here whenever I am needed.” He bowed respectfully. “Although, I just…forgive me for feeling the need to remind you, but please do not forget that I took this internship to do hero work, not to sort and fill papers.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget,” Hawks assured him, taking the cursed heap of papers. You were usually the one that he shoves all of his office-related tasks on, but whenever you were preoccupied, he would pass the burden onto a trainee that was too starry-eyed to acknowledge that they were being used. Yes, he feels a little bad, but his hatred of reading endless forms was too strong for him to care much. “I gotta test your patience and comprehension first, then I’ll be taking you out into the field with me. You’re doing great!” He bullshitted with a smile.

Springer perked up at the words. “Of course! I’ll keep doing my best!” His eyes kept drifting to the large empty space in the room. “Sir, what happened to your desk?”

Hawks looked over at the open spot, feigning surprise as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh, right. I banged my handler on it ’til it broke.”

“…”

“…”

The teen searched the man’s eyes for several long seconds, looking for something, before bursting into boisterous laughter. Hawks joined in with his own chuckles.

“You’re very funny, sir! But I don’t think she would appreciate such a joke. Whatever happened, I hope you get a replacement soon!” He bowed again before walking—well, more like skipping out of the room.

Hawks’s smile didn’t fade when he was alone again, wondering where to place the heavy stack in his hands.

Sometimes the truth makes for the best lie.

—————

Pleasing Hawks when he was a drooling horndog was a challenging test of endurance, but at least it was simple and straightforward. All you gotta do is let him mount you and brace yourself.

But that option was currently out of the question. Your entire body was just too damn stiff and sore, every single movement feeling like the impaired motions of an unoiled tinman. Nevertheless, you still needed to get rid of Hawks’s brand new boner.

So here you were, back at his bed and kneeling on the floor, shyly licking at the swollen rod in your hands. You weren’t the most experienced at this, paying close attention to his noises and responses that came with every action from your fingers and tongue. Hawks was watching your performance with an agitated glare, which was just a tad troubling and added extra pressure.

You licked the prominent vein on the underside of his dick, tracing it up to his bulging head before taking him into the hot cavern of your mouth. He groaned through painfully clenched teeth; he seemed to be enjoying it, yet it looked like his frustration was only growing.

Not yet deterred, you began to suck at him, head bobbing up and down while your hand jerked the extra inches that you couldn’t take in. Your other hand gently held and caressed his enlarged sack, heavy and full of cum that refused to be freed into your mouth. His cock was twitching wildly in your throat, so he has to be close, right? Ignoring the burning in your back and….everything else, honestly, you placed all of your focus on engulfing as much of him as you could, tongue swirling all around him until he inevitably gives in.

But a hand grabs your head and yanks you off of him with a wet surprised gasp.

“Stop…stop…it’s just getting worse.” He choked in a broken voice, staring down at the impossibly hard and red erection.

You wiped off the saliva that had run down your chin. “Why won’t you cum?”

His thighs trembled from all of the unreleased tension; you rubbed them to hopefully calm him just a bit. “Fuck, I…it’s like I can’t do it unless I’m…dammit!” The sudden beat of his angry wings spooked you.

You drew a deep breath. You really weren’t up for this, but leaving him in this state would be too cruel. Not to mention it was putting him in a very sour mood. Hoisting yourself onto the bed (with a few pained whimpers), you faced away from him and lowered your upper body to rest your arms, your ass raised and ready for him.

“You know, Keigo,” you started casually, as if you weren’t laid out in such a compromising position. “When I took this job, I imagined the countless situations I could possibly end up in. I was afraid I’d get caught in the middle of some villainous scheme, like a hostage situation. My silly fangirl side imagined going on dates with my favorite hero. The list of scenarios went on and on.”

The man behind you didn’t say anything, so you kept going. “And yet, ‘presenting myself to Hawks so that he can hump me senseless’ was not on that never-ending list.

He gave an awkward laugh, still sounding as if his throat was constricted. “You don’t have to, babe. I can…I dunno…”

“Just fuck me already.”

Hawks said no more and took hold of your rear. “I’ll try to take it slow. I’ll try.”

He tried and failed. Once he penetrated you, he completely lost himself again. By the time he was satisfied, every fiber of your being was dimmed and immobilized. He helped you get tucked into bed that night.

—————

Thursday

“Please, sir. I’m quite concerned for my health. This would be easier if he was away from the excitement of his work.”

After mulling it over, you had decided to be the one to reach out to the deputy, since he didn’t seem interested in calling you again anytime soon. Your original plan was to brave through the fury of Hawks’s dick until this damn rut ended, just like the deputy intended without your say in the matter.

But when you had to visit the doctor for your pains today, and you walked out with a fucking crutch under your arm, you realized this was all a bit much.

At the moment, you were trying to negotiate for letting Hawks take at least a day or two away from work. The deputy didn’t seem convinced. “Hawks once managed to keep working for an entire day with a broken wing and no visits to the hospital, and you mean to tell me that he should rest just because he has the hormonal urges of a teenager?” His snobbish ass questioned.

“This is—!” You inhaled sharply through your nose, catching yourself and lowering your voice. “This is much stronger than that, sir. Without getting into detail, I have withstood some back-breaking nights.” You consider telling him about your recent hospital visit, but the remaining shreds of your pride wouldn’t allow you to share that. Even you didn’t want to believe that Hawks has literally fucked you until you couldn’t walk.

You heard him snort in your ear. Ugh. “Doesn’t sound like anything a steady dose of painkillers can’t fix,” he dismissed.

You gave up making him understand your suffering and tried something else. “Sir, Hawks has faithfully served the Commission since he was a child. He has become one of the most accomplished heroes this generation has ever seen. His skills and dedication have done nothing but help the Commission become a more positive icon all over Japan. Don’t you think such a loyal and hard-working hero deserves at least one day off?”

“No.”

Well, shit. “…Alright, um, thank you for taking the time to hear me. I’ll get back to my duties.”

“Yes, that would be great,” he said listlessly before hanging up.

What an asshole.

—————

“What happened?”

Hawks’s words carry a dangerous tone when he sees you enter his office with the help of your walking aid. It makes you pause.

Going by the sharp yet troubled look in his eyes, you could tell that the tone wasn’t directed at you. ‘Did someone hurt you?’  That’s what he was really asking. His concern always warmed you. “Nothing, I just…” You hate reminding yourself that this even happened. “The pains were getting really bad.”

It takes a minute for those words to sink in, then his eyes widen in some sort of amazement. “Oh.” A flurry of feathers fly off of his wings and form a small floating cushion in front of you. “There, have a seat. Don’t want you hurting anymore than you already do.”

You eye the levitating seat before approaching and lowering yourself onto it. It was like a soft yet firm pillow, and you didn’t miss how the feathers seemed to all shiver, red barbs shaking rapidly as you adjusted your rump.

“Thank you,” you said while resting the crutch onto your lap. Once you were comfortable, you looked at the hero and the brand new furniture between the both of you. “I like your new desk.”

“Thanks. This one is pure steel, much more durable.” He winked.

You return it with a roll of your eyes. “Wonderful. Anyhow, I want to discuss a local hero event coming in two weeks. Your presence would do well to—” you noticed that he was snickering, lips pursed in a strained effort not to fully laugh. “Did I say something funny?”

He shook his head while short amused breaths still escaped him. “I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting and all, but…” He was cackling now, hunching over the desk as he struggled to explain. “I can’t believe I put you in crutches!”

Your face burned with both embarrassment and anger at how hilarious he found the situation. “Hawks…”

He coughed and noisily cleared his throat. “Sorry, I promise to keep it in my pants from now on.” A mischievous grin was plastered on his face. “I mean, I don’t wanna put you in a wheelchair next!”

With a wheeze and happily flailing wings, Hawks keeled over onto the desk with his face buried in his arms, the laughs muffled but still going strong. You just watch with a frown, listening to his mumbled joke about how ‘once you go hawk, you won’t be able to walk’.

What an asshole.

—————

Saturday

Hawks was definitely getting better. You could tell with each passing day, taking mental notes on how he was having an easier time holding your gaze, or how he was able to stay close to you without growing in his pants. Thank god, because your body was still recovering. Another round of wild sex will only cripple you further.

That’s why the incident currently being reviewed on television was filling you with dread. You sat in the main room of Hawks’s house, the house that you practically lived in for nearly a week, watching coverage of the recent attack at the Fukuoka City Mall. The footage of various species of birds flying into the shopping center and swarming the unsuspecting civilians was almost comical, the colorful animals squawking loudly as they snatched every shiny valuable in sight.

A man with the head of a macaw, apparently going by the villain name of Parakill, stood at the center of the chaos, chirping excitedly as his fowl goons showered him in jewels and baubles. His robbery was cut short when small red blurs whizzed into the scene, pinning the criminal onto the floor and chasing around the army of birds until they surrendered their stolen goods. You weren’t prepared for the deafening chorus of tweets and shrieks when the winged hero stepped into the camera’s line of sight.

The restrained villain was cawing and screeching angrily, most likely commanding his birds. You couldn’t see Hawks’s face clearly due to the distance and quality, but you could still make out the intimidating glare as his wings slowly spread out into their full span, each individual feather looking slightly sharpened. Any bird that made a move was quickly poked with a red quill, each and every one of them eventually staying in place while uttering quiet submissive peeps. Parakill’s look of rage slowly morphed into one of fear. Once the danger was surely dealt with, Hawks called for any lingering citizens to leave the area while he retrieved the villain.

You were still in awe as the news switched to another story. Some sort of dominance was asserted there. You weren’t sure how, but it definitely happened. The worrying part was that tapping into his primal instincts like that has probably riled him up. Christ, he’s probably rushing over right now to fuck you into the mattress again.

Only about thirty minutes had passed when you hear the twist of the doorknob and the front door opening. You stand in anxious anticipation. How disheveled and hungry is he going to look? Is he going to jump you on sight?

But the Hawks that walks in is…composed, his face free of tension and layers of sweat as he spots you and offers a friendly smile. “Sup.”

You’re too stunned to give anything more than a “Hey” as he walks past you and heads for his room.

It’s a miracle. No sexual excitement after such a tense encounter with not only a villain, but another male bird mutant? Was he truly getting that much better? There wasn’t enough certainty to approach him while he was changing, so you stayed on the couch and stared at the large screen until he chose to come out on his own.

You were still channel surfing by the time he was strutting over in his loose and comfy clothes, plopping down onto the couch with a wing outstretched and tucking itself behind your back. You gulped—not sure what he had planned for you.

“Relax. You’re acting like I’m gonna eat you,” he teased, watching you flip through the TV’s guide.

“You’re not? I can’t be too sure after what happened today.” You turned to him, watching his keen golden eyes shift and meet yours. The gaze wasn’t glassy. It wasn’t predatory. “You really feel alright?”

“Haven’t felt this good in the past two weeks. It’s nice to be a civil human again.”

You relaxed a bit and shuffled in your seat, fully aware of how his wing was wrapped around your shoulder like an affectionate arm. “About the attack at the mall…” You began. “What exactly was happening there?”

“What, you mean what I did to the birds? Parakill was trying to sic them on me.” He straightened up with a grinning face that radiated pride. “So I rearranged the pecking order. His birds don’t answer to him anymore.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You didn’t. You can do that?”

“Sure can! It’s not that hard. I mean, don’t think that I have a bunch of attack birds at my command now.  Animal control took them in to be relocated, not to mention some of them were illegal exotics.”

“Ah, that’s…impressive.”

“Heh, remember this, babe,” he leaned in until his lips were grazing your ear, his lowered voice and hot breath making you shudder. “I’m always the top bird.”

You shake off his flirting and try to keep your composure. “Right, of course. I’m just really glad that you’re getting better.”

His wing pulled you in for a tight hug that made you squeak. “All thanks to my sweet hen of a handler. Couldn’t have gotten through this without you.” He heard your pained grunts and instantly released you. “Whoops, sorry.”

You rolled your stiff shoulders and sighed. “It’s fine. You’re not the only one who’s getting better. Just do me a favor and try to forget that I was ever this sore from sex.”

Hawks laughed softly as he took your hands in his. The gesture surprised you after experiencing days of rough and impatient touches. “Hey,” he was almost whispering, forcing you to lean in closer to hear him. “It’s been a wild week. My mind’s been all over the place and I’ve put you through a lot. And…” He looked away with his brows pinched in a pained expression, troubled over something you didn’t know about. Before you could ask, his face drew closer, until your foreheads were pressed together. “Mind if I do one more thing with you?”

You were completely lost. You didn’t understand the sudden tenderness, his somber mood, or why he was talking with some sort of finality to his words.

“Let me take you to bed.”

The fuck?

“Keigo,” you leaned away from him, paying no mind to how you already missed his warm closeness. “I said I was getting better, but I’m not that much better.”

He shook his head, bringing your hands closer to his chest. “No, not like that. Just…I wanna do this properly with you for once. Some nice, regular sex. Hell, doesn’t even have to be full-on sex, I just want to…feel you.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Feel me?” You repeated.

He nodded eagerly with a big-ass smile. The normally cheeky young man was acting so genuine right now.

It was hard to say no to that.

“Alright.”

Hawks said no more, pulling you up on your feet and taking you to the room you both have shared for several nights. He was quick in removing your clothes, peeling each article off smoothly before doing the same to his own. The mood felt so different from your other intimate meetups that you couldn’t help but feel modest all over again.

Calloused hands were gently pushing you down onto your back, and you watch as the handsome man above opens up his wings, his eyes closed as if entering a trance.

“Whenever we fucked, I never felt like I was really there,” he recalled out loud, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen. “I could feel you, see you, hear you, but it’s like my body was moving on its own. I was in the backseat of my own head.”

With a deep inhale and exhale, he stared down at you with a look of desire, but not the savage kind. You’re not quite sure what it was…maybe the look of a lover.

Fingers traced your face, trailing down your cheek, brushing your lips, and skimming over your well-marked neck. “Now I finally get to feel you however I want.”

Your breath caught in your throat when his lips made contact with the flesh right over your pulse, planting a few light kisses before mouthing at your neck, the random swipe of a tongue making you gasp.

His open wings twitched in response at the small sound. He was trying to savor every single one of your reactions. That’s intense.

He was in no rush, mouth moving down slowly and stopping to observe the bruise near your shoulder. “Damn, I bit you hard. That’s…when we were in the office, right?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t as painful as a fully grown man falling on top of me after ramming me through a desk.”

Hawks chuckled at the memory while rolling your breast around in his hands. “Man, that really crushed my nuts. I swear my voice was a pitch higher for the rest of the night.” He laughed into your tits, licking at the squishy mounds as he took in each of your shivers and moans.

“Maybe, but that was probably just from you crying about how you could no longer give me chicks.” Yeah, that was a weird time.

“Shh, that didn’t happen,” he denied.

“Yes, it did. I had to hold you as you sobbed.”

“Lies.”

“You were worse than I’ve ever been on my perio—ah!” A bite on your nipple silenced you.

Hawks shot you a playful glare, daring you to say more. When your mouth stayed shut, he gave a satisfied purr and sucked at the same perky bud, soothing the sting before moving on to the other.

You felt relaxed; this was all so much calmer than what you have gotten used to. While you won’t deny that his feral side was as pleasurable as it was tiring, at least you can finally take the time to breathe and soak up what he’s doing. Judging from his vibrating feathers, he probably felt the same.

He licked down your stomach while his hands ran down your sides until they reached the purple finger-shaped blemishes on your hips. He winced at the sight. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.”

He nurtured the marks with his mouth, careful not to apply too much pressure and cause any pain.

“You don’t have to be so delicate,” you hesitantly tell him. “The day you were under the quirk’s influence, you uh, you were doing the same to the bruises on my back…felt kind of good.”

His lips curved into a devilish smile. “Oh, so you like a little pain? My innocent little hen?”

“Shut up,” you said with a blush. “It’s your fault that I’ve felt everything but innocent lately.”

“True, true. I didn’t mean to open you up to the wonderful world of rough play.” His mouth closes around a bruise and sucks hard, shooting a sharp pleasurable burn that traveled straight down to your core. “Ooooh, I felt that.”

You can only whimper as he laps at the sensitive area, but part of you wants him to bring that scary jolt of pain again.

“I wanna know,” he says between licks. “Just how much did you enjoy me letting loose on you? How many times did we do it the first day?”

A few more kisses are laid on your hips before he continues his descent. Your breath quickens in nervous excitement when he nestles his head between your legs, face dangerously close to your hot sex.

“Come on, hen. At least give me a guess.” He turns to your thighs and showers them with timid pecks.

The sheets beneath you crinkle under your death grip. “Don’t know…lost count after the seventh time,” you admit through gritted teeth.

“Aww, what a shame,” his mouth wanders further inside your thigh. “Do you know how many times you came?”

“I don’t know. A lot.”

He bit into you and enjoyed the resulting yelp. “Mmmm, definitely a lot. Enough to knock you out. So sad that neither of us remember just how thoroughly I wrecked you.”

His naughty lips are just an inch away from your nether ones, your breath quickening in anticipation. Hawks looks up at you, most likely enjoying the view of your heaving chest. But he does well in reminding you how much of a bastard he is by switching to your other thigh, subjecting you to another round of kisses.

“Keigooo,” you whine pathetically, feeling your aches as your muscles tense from the teasing.

“Hold on, I’ve got more questions. What was your favorite position?”

“What?”

“Come on, you’ve got plenty to choose from,” he licks the sweat that was beginning to coat your skin.

Both your embarrassment and his tongue were making it very difficult to answer. You stammer over your words while his mouth moves inward, but once again, he stops at your mound.

“You really can’t think of one?” He gives you a ridiculously sad face—large puppy eyes and a puckered bottom lip—it would have looked more innocent if he wasn’t so close to your most private area.

You realize that he wasn’t going to take any further action until you gave him an answer. “I…when I’m on my hands and knees…” You swallow despite the dryness of your throat. “…and you’re on top of me…”

“Ah,” he sighs, and you feel his thumbs part your outer lips like a damp pair of curtains. He stares down at the pussy that he has battered more times than either of you can count, and yet it drips for him even now. The feel of a single finger running down your wetness makes your entire body jerk. “You like it when I mount you like a dog?”

“Yes,” you choke.

He blows on your quivering cunt. “What do you like about it so much?”

“I…you…I don’t…”

“Do you just love feeling like an animal too? Love it when a crazed horny guy humps you into the floor?” He finally indulges you with a long lick from your hole to your clit, and the hot muscle already has you moaning. “Is that it?”

“Ah…maybe…” You answer, and he rewards you with another lick. Listening to his questions was becoming a challenge.

“Hmm, would you love it if I fucked you until my bed gives out? You’re a pretty expensive girl to mess around with,” he jokes. He then dives in, sloppily making out with your folds that have been begging for more gentle attention for days.

Your head thrashes against the pillow. His licks and sucks were both pleasurable and soothing against your beaten pussy. You were finally freed from his powerful stare when he closed his eyes and fully concentrated on eating you out. He alternated between sucking loudly on your velvety folds and lapping at your opening, sometimes dipping his tongue inside so that he can feel your walls attempt to grab him.

The building pressure in your belly has become an old friend at this point, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t excited whenever it arrived and begged it to explode and bring you back to that lovely state of euphoria. Hawks’s mouth was moving more fervently as he drank in more of your juices, as if your nectar was intoxicating him. His deep moans rattled your insides while he smacked his wet lips against every inch of your womanhood, giving your swollen clit a smooch before sucking hard.

“Mm…oh god…Keigo, please…”

He growled with your bud still in his mouth, blinding you with the electrifying pleasure that was only enhanced by the sudden intrusion of two fingers in your throbbing cavern. The slow inner massage guided you to the top where stars burst in your vision, each orgasmic throb bringing forth a shameless moan. The stimulated wings fluttered from the overwhelming pleasure surrounding them, Hawks giving light licks and kisses until you were back down to earth.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said breathlessly, as if he was the one that just got sent to heaven. “You felt amazing, so nice and clear.” His wings finally folded behind his back as he straightened himself and wiped his glistening face.

You were ready to drift away into a happy slumber until you saw Hawks move to get off the bed and spotted the very familiar hardness that was bobbing with his movements. “Wait! You’re…” Your eyes dart from his face to his erection.

“Don’t worry about that; fapping works again!” he told you cheerfully before changing to a devious smirk. “What, did you wanna watch or something?”

“No,” you snapped a bit more loudly than intended. “I…want you inside of me.”

He froze.

“You sure?”

“Very.”

He crawled back between your legs—clearly trying not to look too eager—and was already aiming his cock at your opening. Your nod of approval was all he needed to push inside and damn, that was one hell of a face and moan he made.

You reflexively braced yourself for an immediate pounding, but the throbbing length just stayed there, twitching in response to every pulse from your surrounding walls. Hawks appeared absolutely fascinated by the sight of him sheathed inside of you before looking up to your face, eyes filled with a warm lust, not the unfocused kind that you have gotten used to.

He pulled out slowly and pushed back in at the same speed. “Ooooh, fuck, baby. So hot…so tight…” He murmured with a broken groan. The lazy thrusts allowed you to feel every inch of him stretch you, his veins rubbing against you for added texture and stimulation. Your hypersensitive pussy appreciated the easy pace, and even better, it was also working for the hero above you.

His hips gradually sped up overtime, but never into something rough and aggressive. It was more like a grind, his abs rippling with every deep push. His flushed face has gotten dangerously close to yours, allowing you to watch the pulsating pupils of his avian eyes.

The only time he ‘kissed’ you was on the first day, though a more appropriate description would be that he simply smashed his mouth against yours. Now, as you stared at his parted lips while hot breaths blew onto your face, you had a strong desire to finally give him a proper one.

Good thing Hawks was a damn mind reader, because he brought his lips down to yours right after you finished the thought. They were soft, softer than you expected from a guy that flew at high speeds all day. Then again, he was also a sex symbol that needed to take care of himself.

His mouth was clearly more skilled than yours, so you let him take the lead, lips molding perfectly against yours with playful licks. The added intimacy sped up his hips and raised his volume, his entire mouth engulfing yours as he moaned into you. Your tongue found his and engaged in a frantic dance. He’s tensing up; you give him some encouragement by wrapping your arms and legs around his sweaty form, giving the base of his wings a few rubs. Your mouths part to catch your breaths, a strand of saliva linking your tongues together

“Cum inside me, Keigo.”

“Oh fuck.” Your words have him pumping erratically into you, but you’ve dealt with worse. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, whimpering at your legs that keep him locked in place and urging him to release his creamy essence as deep inside you as possible.

His trembles are powerful, but even better were the cracked whines vibrating against your neck as he emptied himself into your womb. You never get tired of watching his wings lifelessly drop whenever he wears himself out. You cradle his spent body—it’s all so similar to the first time he took you, except this time he moves just a little to the side to relieve you of some of his weight. He doesn’t move you for another round, he just relaxes into your cuddles.

“Thanks,” he says softly, already close to dozing off.

You’re not sure what exactly he’s thanking you for, but it makes you smile anyway. “You’re welcome.”

A wing stretches over you as a blanket, the warm soft feathers doing well to pull you into dreamland as well. Hawks’s heavy breaths tell you that he was already out.

You close your eyes. It looks like you both managed to survive the worst rut of Hawks’s life. This sure as hell wasn’t what you signed up for, but looking back, it wasn’t that bad. Except for the crutch. The crutch never happened.

As sleep claimed you, you wondered what the future had in store for you and the winged hero.

—————

Monday

“I just got fired.”

Hawks flinched at the news, scratching at his back awkwardly. “Aww man, that’s…oof, what a shocker.”

For some reason, his surprise didn’t sound very real. But you were way too upset at the moment to question it further. “Well, I guess it’s more like a demotion. They’re still allowing me into a position I have more experience in. It’s probably back to desk work for me,” You sighed, pacing back and forth across the office in a desperate attempt to expel some of your anger. “But I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that he basically kept me around to be your fucking fleshlight, and then threw me away after you were satisfied!”

Hawks shrugged with an apologetic look. “It really sucks, babe. You can’t forget: the real studs are the Commission. No one fucks more people than them. A lot of us are a one-time use to those guys. I’m just lucky enough to have a longer expiration date than most. Or unlucky. I dunno.”

You didn’t either, honestly. Hawks deserved better. “They’re such assholes, yet here I am ready to keep working for them. I so badly want to say ‘fuck you’ and leave, but…” You trailed off.

Hawks finished your sentence with a smirk. “They pay too well?”

Your head lowers in shame. “Yeah.”

A wing pats you on the back as he laughs. “I’m not judging, angel. That’s probably what keeps most of the guys around.” He steps closer to you, gently taking your chin to tilt your head back up. “I’m gonna miss you though. Whoever they send to watch my ass next isn’t going to be half as fun as you.”

The comment warms you. You take his hand and pull it further up to your face, letting him cup your cheek. “Thanks, but I was pretty bad at the job. They would have kicked me down sooner or later.”

He came in closer. “True, you sucked. But you’re the first handler I got to know so well. Inside and outside.” His chuckle is hot against you before he locks his lips to yours. The kiss becomes more heated than expected—he’s tugging at your lip and thrusting his tongue in and out of your mouth in a way that makes your thighs press together. You tear yourself away from his face, breathless.

“Hawks…?”

His tongue slowly runs over his upper lip. Goddamn. “Sorry, little hen. I was just hoping you’d like a nice goodbye gift. I can give you more, if you want.”

You’re so pissed off at yourself for throbbing in response to his offer.

He pulls you back in and takes hold of the waistband of your pants. “How about it? Wanna get to know my new desk a little better?”

The sounds resonating from the office that morning scarred Springer.

[little-diable]

Kinktober Day 12 - Tom Hiddleston

Feedback is very welcomed, my asks are always open. Enjoy my loves. xxx

He’s a uni prof, so before you come at me, the reader is of age, of course she is. (Probably one of my favorite imagines) 

2k+ words, sorry, my imagination got the best of me and my dreams 

Day 12 - Professor 

His voice made goosebumps appear on her skin, she was hanging onto his every word, eyes not leaving Professor Hiddlestons frame once, (y/n) was completely done for him. She had been visiting his class for a few weeks by now, but from the first moment she had laid her eyes upon him, (y/n)’s heart would skip a few beats, sweaty palms pressed against her jeans, losing all her focus. 

The dark blue suit he was wearing perfectly clung to his frame, bright eyes wandering through the body of students, trying to explain his subject as precise as possible. A smile was tugging on his lips, totally pulled into his monologue, hoping that the students were at least half as thrilled about it as he was. 

As much as he tried to avoid it, he’d always find her in the middle of the crowd, eyes hooked on his, eagerly writing down his words, not missing one single breath. Tom didn’t even know her name, it wouldn’t take long for him to dig a bit deeper and find some information about her, but he wouldn’t let himself do it, he couldn’t, she was his student after all. 

(Y/n) would try to find any way to approach him, late at night she’d think of any questions she could ask, things she could discuss with him, but as soon as his name would pop up in her mind she’d loose her train of thoughts. The sight of his locks, slightly gelled backwards, was burned into her mind, oh, the things she’d do, to only comb her fingers through his hair once, just once. 

“Any questions?”, he closed the script in his hands, eyes wandering across the printed letters, ‘William Shakespeare‘. “Alright then, have a good week”, Tom smiled at the crowd, placing the pages down, watching the students hastily run out of the class, desperate for a small break. But she was still there, packing her bag with trembling fingers, eyebrows knitted together, “can I help you?”, his voice made her freeze. 

She slowly averted her eyes off her bag, finding his curious ones, “I’m sorry, I just can’t stop thinking about your theory, that somebody else wrote Shakespeares plays”, (y/n) cleared her throat, hating her voice for sounding that shaky. Tom couldn’t deny it, he loved to hear her voice, the bright sound made his limbs tingle. 

“I can understand, that it may sound off to you. But, there are many proves to it, there’re some pages I could recommend about this subject. If you want to, I could email them to you”, the words spilled out of his lips before he could stop himself. He shouldn’t contact her, shouldn’t even try to pull her into any form of conversation, outside of his classroom, but it was too alluring, too thrilling not to. 

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, (y/n) picked her bag up and walked down the stairs, towards his desk, “that would be amazing”, her fingers fumbled around with the sleeves of her sweater. Tom grasped a blank paper and a pen, “here, write down your email address for me, will you?”, he smiled at her, eyes following her every move, adoring her blushing state. 

It didn’t take the professor long to email her, (y/n) could barely bite down her smile as she read his words over and over again, “I’m looking forward to hear your opinion about this”. She had gone through those theses faster than lightning, desperate to email him back, to type out those words and hopefully impress him. 

Those little encounters didn’t seem to stop, she’d wait for him after class, discussing new thoughts and opinions, falling into an easy smalltalk with him. “Are you done for today?”, Tom strapped his bag, walking towards the door, “yes I am”, (y/n) smiled at him, looking forward to spend the rest of her day wrapped up in some blankets, watching her favorite movie. 

“There’s a new exhibition about Shakespeare, do you want to go see it with me?”, he gulped, already trying to come up with any words he could say, if she’d kindly negate, smiling at him with those gorgeous lips he found himself dreaming of. “I’d love that”, her heart was racing, not progressing the fact, that he had asked her to spend some time with him, oh god, she wasn’t prepared for something like this. 

She followed him down to his car, whispering a small “thank you” as he opened the door for her, admiring her from the corner of his eyes as he was driving towards the museum. Both couldn’t stop smiling as they walked through the exhibition, looking like a normal couple to those curious eyes, not one of them would ever guess, that she was his student. 

Tom was right behind her, front almost touching her back, (y/n) was reading the description of the painting out loud, not noticing how close he was standing. He couldn’t concentrate on her words, eyes wandering down her neck, oh, how he’d love to press a kiss to her skin, inhaling her sweet scent. “Mister Hiddleston?”, she giggled, ripping him out of his thoughts, “it’s Tom, please”, he shook his head, walking towards the next picture. 

Somewhere along the way (y/n) had laughed at one of his jokes, grasping his forearm as she was nearly tripping over from laughing that hard, he soon followed, chuckles rumbling through him as he stabilized her. With a newfound bravery (y/n) had interlaced her fingers with his, expecting him to let go of her, telling her off, but he simply smiled at her, squeezing her hand. 

“It’s so cliché”, (y/n) giggled, they were driving towards her apartment, making fun of Shakespeares ‘Romeo and Juliet’, “don’t lie to me, we both know, that you know the words by heart”, Tom pinched her knee, coaxing another squeal out of her. A somber feeling overcame her as he pulled into her street, time had gone by way too fast, she didn’t want to say goodbye just yet. 

Silence engulfed them as he parked his car, “uhm”, she breathed out, “thank you for today”, (y/n)s smile had an addicting affect to it, Tom leaned closer, fingers brushing over her cheek, “’m glad you said yes”, he chuckled, bright eyes piercing through her. Just as (y/n) was about to press a kiss to his cheek, Tom had slightly turned his head, lips meeting hers before one of them could even process what was happening. 

There was no awkward tension between them, no weird movements or sounds, both seemed to fall into place, lips perfectly moving in synch, relishing in finally living out their deepest desires. “I have more care to stay than will to go”, (y/n) mumbled against his lips, reciting Juliets words, his deep laugh made her giggle. “Do you want to come upstairs?”, she bit down on her lip, (y/e/c) eyes drowning in his, no words left him as Tom turned off the car, stepping out of it. 

His lips were on hers before she had even closed the door behind her, back pressed against the hard material, hands finally combing through those locks, admiring how soft his hair felt underneath her touch. Tom tried to stop himself, didn’t want to rush things, wanted to do this properly, but she clouded his senses, brought a blockade to his thoughts, his hands were wandering down to her behind, pulling her even closer. 

She was heavily breathing, pulling him down the hallway to her bedroom, fumbling around with his vest, desperate to lay her eyes onto his skin. “I got you”, Tom whispered, picking her up from the floor, legs wrapped around his middle, core pressed against the forming bulge in his trousers. He sat down on her bed, (y/n) was straddling his lap, “you’re so perfect”, Tom expertly unbuttoned her blouse, sucking on her collarbones. 

His hot breath made goosebumps rise on her skin, she felt her walls clenching around nothing, her clit was throbbing, mind wandering to those nights she had dreamt about being wrapped around him. (Y/n) couldn’t stop herself from grinding against him, his deep groan almost made her cum, the sound was by far more perfect than she had ever imagined. 

“Professor”, she panted, helping him out of his shirt, eyes dancing across his muscular abdomen, his eyes snapped towards her, smirking at the way she called him. 

Tom flipped them around, he was hovering above her, set on pleasuring her, he wanted to hear every moan, wanted to explore every inch of her, not stopping till he had seen the last of her. “Do you feel this?”, Tom pressed his bulge firmly against her core, coaxing a moan out of her swollen lips, “this is what you do to me”, he bit into her earlobe. Her needy whine echoed through the room, “I need you” (y/n) brushed her centre against his. 

“What a needy little girl you are for your professor”, he unzipped her skirt, pulling it down her thighs, giving himself enough room to touch the damp fabric of her panties. “Shit”, (y/n)s head fell back onto her pillow, nobody had ever touched her like this, she slightly jumped, his fingertips felt cold against her skin, thumb circling her clit, “can I?”, his eyes burned into hers, waiting for her approval, he desperately wanted to taste her. 

(Y/n) nodded her head “yes”, too far gone to properly answer his question, she arched her back, his tongue slipped through her folds, she had her fingers buried into his hair, “professor” (y/n) breathed out once again. He growled at the name, obsessed with the sound, he’d never be able to control his urges around her ever again, especially not when she’d call him ‘professor’. “I want you”, (y/n) tugged on his roots, drawing him away from her centre, Tom tugged his trousers down, boxers following right after. 

His impressive length made her gulp, “I’m on the pill”, she whispered as he reached for a condom, she wanted to feel all of him, nothing between them. Toms bright eyes wandered over her features for a moment, he pressed his lips against hers, tongues battling a war as he thrusted into her wetness, groaning as he felt her tightness. 

Toms heart was racing, almost just as fast as (y/n)s, he perfectly filled her, resting in between her hot walls, veins throbbing against her skin, nestling into her heat. He began to build a steady rhythm, Tom wanted it to last, he didn’t want to push both over the edge with a few, simple thrusts, not after admiring her for so long. 

“Please, faster, professor”, she added a change to his plans, as much as she wanted to appreciate every little detail about the encounter, she needed more, (y/n) was aching for him, she had dreamt about this moment for too long. “Oh god”, her jaw fell slack, his tip had gazed her g-spot, walls tightening even further, the sensation made him squeeze his eyes shut, “(y/n)”, he panted her name, catching her lips in a fierce kiss. 

The kiss swallowed most of their sounds, his hips fell against hers, with every thrust he seemed to bury himself deeper into her walls, exploring every possible inch of her gorgeous body. “I-”, (y/n) stuttered, nails piercing through his skin, “I can’t”, she sobbed, tumbling over the edge, the knot in belly exploded, the sensation overtook her body, limbs trembling, sweat pooled on her skin, moans getting mixed up with his groans. 

Tom kept watching her, bright eyes adoring the sight of her falling apart around him, walls swallowing his length, pulling him into her further, it didn’t take him long to fall right down into her embrace. He groaned into her neck, pace faltering, his release spilled out of him, right into her heat. “Shit”, Tom chuckled, taking a few breaths before he carefully pulled out of her. 

The darkness of her bedroom engulfed them, covering up their flushed cheeks, the drops of sweat, that were glistering on their bodies. The only source of light came from the lanterns on her street, throwing an orange shadow onto her wall. No words left any of them, both were processing the previous moments, not quite sure, if they’d wake from this dream any moment now. 

[boop-le-snoot]

skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Chapter 2

Characters - Reader, Ransom Drysdale, assorted OCs 

Word count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language, sexual content

A/N - Hope you enjoy the next installment of my Ransom series. Still setting things up in the chapter, but we’re moving along. For a while, there will be a good amount of heavy drinking and the questionable choices that go along with that, just FYI. Remember this is fiction and the acts are not recommended. They will also be acknowledged later if you are concerned. 

Feedback is wonderful, & if you notice any errors please let me know!

Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Chapter 1

You order drinks plus shots. 

“To another fucking week,” you salute with Whitney. It burns, and it’s sweet, and you just want it to act fast.

“Yeah, another one.” She grabs hers, salutes, and tosses it back back. She cringes for a few seconds, but once she recovers, she picks right up with half of a conversation you weren’t having. “So, are you gonna take someone home tonight?”

“You’re more worried about my sex life than your own.” You shake your head at her.

“After what that asshole did to you, you deserve all the good fucking. I’m just trying to find a good dick to help you forget.”

“Wow, that’s sweet in a weird way.” You shake your head again, but smile this time.

“Well, it’s true. I also don’t want to feel bad if I ditch you later for my own fuck buddy.” She wiggles her eyebrows like a cartoon villain. At least she’s giving you a warning this time and not just disappearing on you later.

“Jesus, Whit. Yeah okay.” You can’t help but laugh with her. “It’s just,” you survey the group around you, “You never really know what you’re gonna find at the end of the night.”

“Uhhh, yeah. That’s what having a one-night stand is...Oh hi.” She offers a dazzling smile to a cute guy pushing next to her at the bar.

You wait a few seconds for her attention to return before you mutter, “I am well aware.”

“So pick a partner and do-si-do. Come on, cowgirl,” she nudges you, nodding to the guy in the fraying straw hat next to you. Nothing seems to deter her.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you giggle. 

She smiles and shrugs. A few minutes pass as she looks you over, studying you.

“You’re being weird about this.”

“I know.” You nibble on the straw in your glass for a moment before getting to where your mind’s been stuck for hours. “So hey, that guy we hung out with? Ransom?”

“No.” She shakes her head hard from side to side, a slightly manic giggle coming out between the repeated, “No, no. No.”

“What?” you try to sound casual, indifferent, but she knows you too well. “I just want to know what his deal is.”

“You don’t,” she insists, shaking her head.

“Why? Did you sleep with him?” 

“No, I haven’t.” She pauses for a moment, you can see she’s actually thinking over her answer. “He’s just gonna get what he wants from you and push you away.”

“You do realize that’s exactly what you’ve been telling me to do? So I should screw someone, but not him...because that’s what he does?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, are he and Michelle a thing? I don’t want any extra relationship drama.”

“Psshh, yeah, god knows you’ve had enough of that.” She stares off into the middle distance before shaking her head and focusing again. “No, they’re not together either, but please? Please? Just promise me you’re not interested in Ransom.”

“Okay, but why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really think you’re his type.” She lets the words hang, and you’re unsure how to interpret them until you finally settle on hurt. You physically recoil a bit when the sting of her words hits.

“Wow, ouch. What the hell does that mean?” You look down into your lap, looking yourself over really quickly and not finding anything major sticking out.

“I just don’t see it. Trust me, and tell me you’re not being serious with this.” 

Even with her strange and kind of harsh reaction, you can’t get rid of the swooping feeling you get in your stomach just thinking about him. So, you try to purse your lips to control the uncomfortable smile trying to break through. You want to assure your friend, but can’t lie to her either...at least not well. 

“I’m totally not,” you finally say with an awkward laugh behind it. Again, failing miserably to play off nonchalance. 

She sees it all and knows you’re full of shit. “No one will have any respect for you if you fuck around with him.” She says, matter-of-factly.

Where this is all coming from, you have no idea.

“You’re being mean and cryptic and I don’t like it. I’m not even saying that anything’s going to happen, but that sounds a little extreme, Whit. Come on,” you whine.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not. Just find someone and ask him to buy you a drink. Look around, you can pick anyone, but I am not enabling you and Ransom,” she quickly adds.

You try to lighten the mood by teasing her about having standards, but can’t find much ground to stand on when she brings The Ex into the discussion. She’s really on a roll tonight and pulling no punches. It’s not what you wanted or needed from the night. You came out with a mission to have fun, so you take a deep breath and decide to be the bigger person.

“Hey Whit?”

She keeps her eyes on the bar in front of her, letting you know she’s still somewhat annoyed at you. “Yesss?”

“This week sucked. Let’s get trashed.” You sling your arms around her shoulders and shake her until she laughs with you. Her party-friend is back in action.

“Fuck. Yes.”

You struggle to go along with Whitney’s plan for your night, especially when the Cowboy and just about every other guy she pushes your way fail to keep your interest. Not that you’d never had a one-night stand, but just that lately they’d been pretty awful experiences and you wondered far too often lately what a life of celibacy would look like. It’s much easier to dismiss the guys and remember that at least your vibrator can get the job done.

Before last call you give in and you text Jeff. Yes, the Jeff with whiskey dick who left you high and dry last time as Whitney reminds you with a giggle. He sounds genuinely happy to hear from you again and promises to make up for last time which makes it seem worth it to give him another shot. He’s tall, fit, with long fingers and if you remember correctly, a decent enough dick.

He manages to stay hard this time around, and he takes his time feeling you up, but the two of you can’t find a rhythm that works. You finally bat his hand away and rub yourself off while he pumps sloppily into you. Afterward, he leans in for a kiss and you turn away to give him your cheek. Getting dressed, you give him a few non-committal answers when he asks about seeing you again, and at the end of it all, you’re most grateful that you didn’t take him to your place. 

You spread out alone in your own bed and think over Whitney’s words.

Whitney knows more than a few of your dirty secrets; the friendship between you two had blossomed quickly with your guard easily let down. She never really judged you, at least not openly, which left you swirling in doubt for days, obsessing over what would probably end up being nothing. 

What made you not his type - looks? Money? Another woman? She never really had a filter, but she was being so short on the topic of Ransom which made you think even harder, rooting through some more recent bad memories.

“Am I a bad person?” you ask Carrie during the week.

“What? No!”

You accept her answer with a nod, silently thinking.

“I wonder if I should just take a break.” When Carrie looks at you funny, you clarify, “Like, maybe I am finding these losers because I am not all that great myself? These guys are all just…”

“Babe, you’re meeting them at bars...with Whitney.”

You heave in a deep sigh, “I know. And she’s not that bad.” A humorless laugh escapes. “Maybe I am aiming too high or something?”

“There’s no such thing.” You see her shoulders shift, fire in her eyes and protective mode activated like she’s done a few times in staff meetings. “What happened?” she asks.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Whitney laughs when you tell her you’re thinking of taking a break.

“Was Jeff that bad? I thought you said he was good with his fingers.”

You look around, even if Whitney has forgotten she’s in public, you haven’t. No one else reacts though, thankfully.

“You’re such a bitch,” you sigh. She fakes offense which you ignore. “No, he wasn’t that bad, I just want to find a nice guy. I don’t know.”

Her already buzzed gaze moves somewhere over your shoulder, “Oh whoa, stop that thought. There’s a guy behind you that looks like he wants to bend you over right here. So,” she drags out, “How about we see how that goes and forget about Jeff, and nice for a while.”

She adjusts her own posture, subtly popping up her tits and tilting her chin down to offer him and enticing smile.

‘Jeff isn’t the problem,’ you think to yourself, but she’s already moving forward with her plan for your night. You toss back the shot she places in front of you and turn to check him out.

It’s not happening, even as tipsy as you currently are, this guy with the ironic mullet hovering next to you and trying to get handsy is not getting into your pants. You know it, Whitney knows it (even if she continues to flirt with his friend), hell - the people in the space station know it… but Mullet Guy is oblivious. It’s embarrassing. 

You sit there with your hands over half of your face, wishing he’d leave you alone, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you see a familiar pretty face surrounded by blonde hair.

“Do you need some help?” Michelle asks, eyeing the guy next to you.

You’re surprised she even recognized you, let alone approached you, but you’re desperate to take the help where you can get it. “Oh my god, yes.” 

She gives you a knowing grin, “You’ll find some of us in the corner booth in the back.”

“You sure?” you ask, still thrown off by the interaction and nearly stumbling off the bar stool. “What about Whitney?” 

“I’ll get her,” She gives you a little nudge. 

You slip past the guy hopelessly hitting on you, mumbling and hoping he doesn’t follow and head down the aisle alongside the bar until you reach the large, corner booth. A few faces look familiar, but when he looks up you consider turning back. Judging by his smirk, there’s no chance of that happening.

You raise your voice to be heard over the noise of the bar, “Um, Michelle sent me over,” your nerves turning it into a question rather than a statement.

Ransom raises an eyebrow like he’s about to ask a question, but nudges the people next to him to make them get up and make room for you.

“Oh, no that’s...I’ll just sit on the end.” You try to politely wave them off, but they’re already up.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” he invites you, arm thrown over the back of the seat and your heart beats double-time with just how much you want it wrapped around you. The two people who vacated their spots shift impatiently and you clumsily sit down and start to scoot over under your knee bumps into his, making you immediately stop and apologize.

“You here all alone?” he asks, swirling his drink, the ring on his pinky finger flashing in the light.

“Nah,” Michelle reappears and speaks up for you as she sets down a few glasses onto the table, “Whitney’s here, but she’s got some company. This lucky lady,” she points to you and continues with a light laugh in her voice, “Was just looking miserable with some idiot not taking a hint.”

“You should’ve just told him to fuck off.” Ransom says.

You look over the crowd, finding Mullet Guy waiting for you back at your seat. His eyes droopy from the liquor and Whitney swaying with his companion. 

“I know, I just don’t like doing that. Plus, uh, I think Whitney is trying to fuck his friend.”

“So leave her. She’s a big girl and can handle herself.”

After that he continues the conversation he was having with the others before you arrived, and once again, you sit there silently watching. 

If you can call anyone the leader in the group, it is Ransom. Watching the way the other guys at the table defer to him and how he responds to what they say makes it obvious. He knows it too, practically sitting here holding court at the big square booth. 

The conversation isn’t all that interesting, at least not to you. Some kind of pissing contest the guys are having involving some sports stats. Every now and again you hear them say something so blatantly wrong, but you don’t know them well enough to correct them. With the underhanded comments and passive aggressive insults, you can’t help but wonder if any of them are actually friends. Eventually, your attention wanders over the rest of the bar patrons.

“Am I keeping you from something?” Ransom startles you with how close he is, body still but eyes roaming. You suck in a deep breath, smelling the alcohol and his cologne which makes your mouth water.

“N-no, sorry,” you struggle to come up with an excuse for zoning out, “Just looking for Whitney.”

He tips his head, “She’s right where you left her.” You follow his line of sight, finding her easily. 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

The way his face goes impassive unsettles you, like it was the wrong answer. “We’re boring you. That’s alright. Let’s talk about you.”

“Not much that you’d be interested in, I think.” Whitney’s assertion that you’re not his type replays in your head

“I don’t know about that. I have a lot of interests.” He stares at you with this look on his face, like he’s listening to something funny, but his eyes are serious. It’s intimidating when combined with the way he’s lounged so comfortably next to you, taking up the space like he owns it and yours. His tone, and the little tickle from his fingers against your shoulder feels like flirting, and now your inner voice begs you to remember how to fucking flirt. ‘For the love of god, shake off the nerves and flirt with this gorgeous creature.’ You take a deep breath and try to sink into it.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, setting your elbow on the table and propping your face on your palm while you turn even further toward him.

One side of his face lifts almost into a smile. He starts with a few basic questions, finding out you’re not from the city, how long you’ve been around. He ignores what you ask in return, continuing with his rapid-fire questioning.

“How do you know that little brat?” he asks with a tiny flick in the direction of the bar.

“Whitney?” you chuckle and he nods, “Friend of a friend; she practically became attached at my hip once we started going out together.”

“A quiet little mouse like you and her? Really?”

“I promise you, I’m not always so quiet,” you challenge.

“See, now that is interesting. Think I’d like to see that,” he answers, eyes giving you a quick up-down in your seat.

In the seconds it takes for you to process that he is indeed flirting and you need to respond, the moment is broken by a high-pitched voice.

“There you are! You fucking ditched me.” Whitney practically howls at you. You feel like a child who got caught out after curfew as you see her eyes move between you and Ransom. “What’s happening here?”

The alcohol has settled enough to remove some of your tension. With that and her overdramatic reaction, trying to control the urge to giggle at being caught is impossible, so you bite down on your lips to keep the grin from your face. “Nothing,” you answer, poorly faking innocence.

Ransom’s eyes stay on you, you can feel it, but he talks to your friend, “We were just getting to know each other better.” He turns to look at her, “Sit down with us,” his tone almost sounding like an order.

“Getting to know each other?” she asks you pointedly. 

You can’t understand what her problem is with him, especially since he’s her friend. At this point, you’re too intrigued. It’s not like there’s any point in trying to deny that you’re attracted to him with half your body leaning into him like he’s a magnet, but for some reason you think you see real disappointment in her eyes. Biting your lip, you take a peek at him to find him waiting for your response; he’s already smug with the attention.

“Yeah.” 

“What about your break?” she spits out.

You feel too many people looking at you, but you can’t answer, too shocked that she’s put you on the spot like this.

“Remember?” she asks like you’re forgetful, “You’re taking a break because you’re looking for a nice guy.” She over-enunciates as she stares daggers at Ransom.

“Why don’t you get the stick out of your ass, Whitney. I’ve been nice all night, haven’t I sweetheart?” The hostility between the two makes your back go rigid, anxious for the moment to end and the spotlight to be directed anywhere else.

“I’m fine,” you tell her as firmly as you can.

She shakes her head at you, but sits down anyway, jumping right into flirty conversation with Eric who is sitting at the end of the booth, notably there without the girl from the other weekend.

“Hmm,” Ransom hums right against your ear, making your skin tingle. “I think someone just got in trouble.” He’s clearly amused and not sounding remorseful at all.

He makes a move then. It’s slight, but you feel him tuck you a little further under his arm. Part of you is glad Whitney is distracted, but the other part wants her to notice it and realize she might be wrong.

“I…yeah,” you stumble over your words, confused and flustered between the two of them. Chest tight and pulling in short breaths and stomach swooping with excitement, you internally scream, begging for him to make it worth it.

[miioouu]

So another collab with @bnha-homeroom!! They're really fun to make and I had a blast!! Go check out part 1 on her blog, then come back to read mine, there's also a Spotify playlist linked in her part, songs that would fit the vibe, i totally recommend listening to it while reading❤️💜❤️

Song mentioned: Halfway to Nowhere by Chelou

Warning: smut...

"Let me show you how you should be behaving." That sentence alone made your knees weak, trembling underneath you. His surprisingly cold hand slowly pushed your shirt up, fingers grazing at your skin and leaving goosebumps in their trail. His lips pushed soft kisses on your neck. Softness slowly turned rough and demanding, biting and sucking, littering your delicate flesh with purple blue bruises. While your hands found their way to his hair, pulling and yanking earned groans from the boy before you. One of his knees parted your legs to press on your core, sending wave after wave of pleasure, surely making you go insane. And the music in the background was definitely not helping your ever so fast beating heart. Lyrics peirced you with the force of a thousand daggers, heat rushing to your core. If you thought his singing voice was enough to send you to paradise, him whispering the words with a harsh, deep voice in your ears had you melting and crumbling to the floor if it wasn't for his tight grip around you. 

"They tell me good things come for those who wait

To speed the process along, I came to tempt fate" 

How could lyrics describe a situation so perfectly? How could mere lyrics make your eyes roll so far back, hand clenched so hard for dear life? Were those the lyrics or the man having that effect on you, you'd never know. Pulling away, thanking whatever god above to let you take a proper breath again, though it was quickly caught in your throat when dark red eyes stared right back at you. The lightning made his sharp jaw stand out, his orbs to shine so brightly, hints of mischief evident in them "We should go somewhere else don't you think baby?" 

On your ride home, his hand never left your thighs. The intensity in his eyes as he focused on the road, with his jaw locked looking sharp, was perfect with the street lights fading only to brutally appear again. The force of his grip on the steering wheel was evident with the showing veins running along his arms. 

It seemed like an eternity before you arrived to his apartment. An old yet well maintained building, coming into view. He quickly got out of his car only to open your door and yank you outside. The cold air hitting your exposed arms made you shiver. Though cold skin started to warm up as soon as his lips came back to your neck, continuing on his masterpiece of blue and purple spots. Hands, surprisingly, ran up and down your side in an attempt to make you forget the freezing air, or was it just part of his plan? As his grip became tighter on your hips, pushing you backward, he opened what you assumed to be doors and the rest passed in a blur as you found yourself in front of his door. The only moment his hands left you was to fish his keys from his back pocket. Though his lips never left yours as your limbs wrapped around his neck, making the simple mission harder than it needed to be. Pressing himself into you, he made your back bump into the wooden surface as he tried to enter the key into the keyhole. Though it seemed nearly impossible for him as you kept grinding yourself on his hardening crotch. Moving away to glare at you, he growled, "Patient princesses get what they want. Remember that yeah?" You stopped your teasing as you finally let him open the door to his apartment. 

There was a simple yet rustic interior to match his personality. But you didn't have time to even take a look around as you felt something hard poking you from behind, hands encircling your waist and pulling you closer to a hard chest. Hot breath fanned over your skin, making you shiver, every hair of your body standing up as his fingers began to take off your shirt. He turned you around and finally for the second time tonight, pressed his lips to yours. He tasted like burnt caramel mixed with whatever alcohol he was drinking on stage, with the faintest smoky aftertaste. The way his hands roamed all over your body, pinching and adoring every inch of exposed skin made your heart beat fast, the man you've dreamt about for so long now actually before you.

Pulling away, he was quick to push your skirt down, eyeing the darkening spot on your undies, stroking his ego as he gave you one of his signature smirks. He pushed you back so now you found yourself in another part of his house, the kitchen. An open kitchen to be exact, fitting the vibe of the rest of the house. This time he let you take a look as he was busy getting rid of his jacket and top. But finishing quickly, all he had to do was send you a look and you found yourself at his feet. Your body moved on its own, like metal attracted to a magnet. Nothing could stop you from being so close to the blonde. Kissing you again, except this time, the kiss was filled with more passion, more lust and desire. Moving his lips slowly yet hungrily against yours, your tongues danced with each other. His digits hooked up the band of your underwear and pushed them down your legs, before quickly undressing you from your bra. While yours were fondling with his belt, all sense of rationality left you as you struggled with his pants, earning you a small chuckle from Bakugou as he gently brushed your fingers away to replace them with his own. Finally undressing,he didn't give you the pleasure of pulling his boxers down along. Begging eyes looking up to his own as you got impossibly closer to him, but he only turned you away and pressed your chest to the counter. "Remember what I said earlier, baby, yeah?" Nodding your head vigorously, having enough with the teasing and the waiting. You just wanted to feel him. 

And you finally did. Slowly pushing inside you from behind, his big head parted your lips to nestle in your heat. Waiting for a bit, the way your walls hugged him so perfectly made him go insane. He couldn't help but let his fingers brush against your back, skin tingling and chills running down your spine. Backing up, your ass wriggling against him, he got the message. Starting at a slow pace that wouldn't last long, hard and deep thrusts made his cock hit your g-spot with every roll of his hips. Along with the sound of skin slapping, his pants and your moans filled the open space. Your hands grabbed onto the counter, the fear of slipping away making your knuckles turn white, while his intertwined in your hair, massaging your scalp only to end up yanking at your locks with so much force you were afraid you might end up bald after tonight. Feeling your walls tightening around him, your wobbling legs nearly failing you, he was fast to grab you tighter, pressing you even further onto the counter. Leaning down, his chest flush against your back, his deep voice was the only thing to break the sexual sounds. "Don't you dare cum Y/n baby. You'll get to cum eventually, but not now." Whining at the refusal of your orgasm, wondering how he knew your name. Maybe it was Kaminari? Maybe he heard it? Although, you didn't care to know at the moment. 

Picking up his pace, he moved at a rapid speed, each thrust making your body drag against the stone surface. Your awaiting orgasm soon threatened to break and you begged him over and over again, till he had enough of you, pressing your face onto the counter, reminding you of his earlier words. His movements became sloppier, voice louder and words dirtier, hands sweatier against your skin. He was getting closer and closer till he couldn't hold himself back anymore. "That's it princess, that's it, cum from me, cum around my cock. Now!" These words were all it took for your walls to clench around him, finally hitting your long awaited orgasm, triggering his own, white ropes painting your insides as you milked him of every single drop. 

He pulled out and let you regain your breath. But as soon as you turned around you were met with a devilish look, telling you that your night was not over yet. He tightly gripped your wrist as he guided you to his bedroom, whispering all the positions he'd have you in, all the dirty things he'd have you do, the number of times he'd have you cuming and begging to cum….

The night passed in a blur, all you remembered from it were the warm hands wrapped around you, the deep voice whispering sweet nothings in your ears, the handsome rough man that made love to you all night long. Waking up, every inch of your body hurt, making you wince at the pain as you tried to get out of bed without Bakugou noticing. Your heart broke and ached at the thought of this one night stand. The man of your dreams was nothing but the man of one night. Carefully pulling your skirt up your legs, you felt a hand wrapping around your waist, and a sweet kiss pressed to your cheeks "Are you leaving? I wanted to make you breakfast. Stay for a bit and then I'll take you home." with a voice that dripped with kindness and eyes glazed with hope and love, how could you say no to that man?

[jenonctcity]

No Nut November - Jaemin

Na Jaemin – Smut, Crack, Fluff

Warnings: Explicit content, a lot of mentions of penis’s, dirty talk, brief spanking, oral (male receiving).

Word Count: 3k

Summary: 00’s line take part in No Nut November.

The Rules of No Nut November:

You cannot have sex, masturbate, or nut in any way, shape, or form.

Watching pornography and having boners are allowed, but you can’t nut.

You are only allowed one wet dream. If you have more than one, then consider yourself out.

You do not have 3 strikes; you only have one shot at it. If you miss it, you’re out.

 If you have passed the month with a total of 0 nuts, you are a victor and you shall qualify for Destroy Dick December (Not Recommended).

Look man, just don’t nut in 30 days. 

Series

 Day 1:

Jaemin had made it very clear to you a week before the month changed to November, that he had every intention of doing no nut November. The week building up to it you had been pinned to whatever surface Jaemin had deemed fit and had been fucked hard. It was the best week of your sexual activity that you’d ever experienced, so you were kind of happy he was going to take part in the strange internet trend. You also knew once the month was over that he would go into a sex crazed state and give you a performance good enough to rival his last show.

However, it wasn’t you that you were worried about not being able to last the entire month. You were certain that Jaemin could not go a whole month without trying to get into your pants. You knew your boyfriend well enough to know that he had a very high sex drive, leading him to asking you for sex nearly every time he saw you. It didn’t help that he was the master of flirting. It made it easy for him to charm your underwear off your body. He had a knack for sending you dirty texts that were filthy enough for your face to heat up in want and slight embarrassment. He once sent you a dick pic that your friend was absolutely mortified to have seen by accident when you opened the text, not having expected him to send pictures of his meat in the middle of the day.

As you stood in your local book store, enjoying the peace and quiet it bestowed upon you, you browsed the fiction section, hoping to find a book about a hopeless romance that ended in heartbreak or a forever love, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It caused you to jump a little but luckily, you’d remembered to put your phone on silent before entering the book shop. You pulled it from your pocket and smiled softly when you saw the contact name said ‘Nana’.

“I miss you :(” his text read, your smile widening at his adorable use of the sad face emoji. You wondered if his text had a hidden meaning or not but decided it probably didn’t because it had only been about half day since he last got his dick wet. You took your time to reply, typing with one thumb as you glanced between your phone and the bookshelf in front of you.

“You saw me about 4 hours ago, I was naked in your bed. Remember?” You replied with a soft giggle, not even surprised when his reply came less than 20 seconds later.

“I remember well! ;) But do you not miss me?” You could almost hear the pout he was more than likely sporting through the words written on your screen. You smirked, trying to suppress a giggle as you replied.

“No.” You quickly followed up with another text. “Just kidding, love you boo.”

“Ouch. My heart bleeds.”

“How are you holding up? Not touched your precious pleasure rod yet have you?” You couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“First of all, ew, never call Jaemin Junior a pleasure rod ever again. Secondly, no I haven’t touched it yet! Have some faith in me!”

“Ew since when have you referred to it as Jaemin Junior?”

“Since now, actually I hadn’t even thought about anything sexual until you brought it up you perv!” You sniggered, rolling your eyes and leaving him on read as you went back to scouring the shelf for the book you desired.

 Day 2:

“Hey babe…” Jaemin patted your thigh, trying to gain your attention as you sat beside him in a taxi. You were on the way to a movie theatre and decided a taxi was the best way to avoid the downpour of rain hitting the earth forcefully.

“Yeah?” You tore your line of sight away from staring out of the window to look at him.

“Have you got any nudes on your phone?” He leaned in close, his lips beside your ear as he whispered lowly to make sure the driver didn’t hear him.

“Na Jaemin!” You whisper-shouted at him, not believing the audacity he had to ask you that in the back of a taxi.

“Please baby just give me your phone and I’ll find them myself.” He whined, holding his hand out to your expectantly.

“No!” You slapped his hand away, watching the way his lips turned into an endearing pout.

“Please…I can’t remember what your body looks like…” You shoot him a disapproving glare, shaking your head slowly at him.

“No!”

“Fine!” He turned away, folding his arms over his chest and pretending to throw a tantrum. He didn’t ask again but later on you did send him a cheeky booty pic, much to his excitement.

 Day 5:

The hot rivets of water hit your skin and ran down the contorts of your body, leaving a warm sensation flooding through your system. The water had no competition against Jaemin’s soft lips peppering open mouthed kisses across the back of your neck. The plush pillows sending cool shivers down your spin, a complete contrast to how hot your body felt.

“I want you so bad baby girl.” He murmured, his words almost getting lost amongst the noise of the water hitting all the surfaces of the shower. You hummed in acknowledgment, his hands wrapping around your from behind, fingers teasing you on their ascent to your breasts. “Let me make you feel good.” His big hands cupped your soft boobs, thumbs and forefingers each pinching your hardened nipples. A bolt of pleasure shot through you, it rippling down your body from your chest to your neglected clit. You became putty in his hands, him pulling your flat against his chest and gyrating his hips into yours enough for you to feel the prominent erection he’d formed.

A sudden reminder popped into your head. A reminder that Jaemin was supposed to be participating in no nut November. You rolled your eyes, pulling away from his grasp – although somewhat reluctantly, and turning to face him.

“I knew you’d try to fuck me before the end of the month.” You smirked at him, moving your hands up to cup his cheeks and pecking the gobsmacked look off of his lips with your own. He struggled to form words, his mouth opening and closing as he stared down at your smug face. “You’re weak Na Jaemin.” You whispered, leaning in and taking his lips between your own in a lingering, steaming kiss, the water running over your heads as you got in the line of the water streaming from the shower head. His arms looped around your torso, pulling you against him and holding your naked bodies together.

“I’m not weak.” He whispered into the kiss, his tongue poking out and trailing over the lining of your lips before working its way into your mouth. He flicked his tongue against your own, rolling his hips into yours and moving his hands down to squeeze your ass. He moved his lips down your face, to your jaw and nipping at your wet skin.

“You’re still trying to-” Your words were cut off by a moan slipping from your parted lips, his perfect mouth sucking right on the spot he knew would make your knees shake.

“Let me treat you.” He spun you around, forcing you up against the wall of the shower, bent slightly and presenting your ass out to him. You bit your bottom lip, spreading your legs apart enough to give him access to your dripping heat. He trailed his fingertips down your spine, the slight tickle causing shudders to shoot across your nerves. He ran the palm of his hand over the curve of your ass cheeks, removing it only to bring it down on your skin with a slap. You gasped in surprise, relaxing as he spanked you once more before jamming a finger inside your slick hole. “So wet for me baby girl, do you like it when I spank you?” He used his free hand to bring it down on your ass once more before leaning that hand on the shower wall and putting all his weight on it, his body hovering over yours.

“Yeah…oh god.” You moaned, rutting your hips back into his hand. He slowly withdrew his finger, circling your sodden hole with the tip of his finger before ramming it back inside of you, pumping it slowly to loosen you up. He added another finger, his lips attaching themselves onto your shoulder. He smirked when you whined against the cold shower wall, the warm water cascading down onto your body, but it was the warmth you felt from Jaemin that was making you overwhelmed.

“You want me to fuck you with my fingers harder?” He bit at the skin of your shoulder, maintaining the slow pace with his fingers. “Answer me.” He growled, stopping his fingers altogether at your silence.

“Yeah! Fuck me hard!” You whimpered at the loss of stimulation, wiggling your hips as an incentive for him to continue.

“As you please princess.” He smirked, thrusting his digits back into you hard and fast. The hand he was using to hold himself up on the wall moving to cup your breast in his hand. His fingers working over your sensitive nipple causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

“Jaemin!” You squeaked, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as the knot tightened in your stomach. “Right there don’t stop!” A gasp ripped from your chest, his teeth biting into your shoulder enough to leave teeth marks behind as the white-hot feeling rushed through your body, your climax hitting suddenly. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to catch your breath, your legs shaking and hips stuttering as he stopped his ministrations on your core.

“That’s my girl.” He gently kissed the bruise he’d made on your shoulder, withdrawing his fingers from you and opting to enclose his mouth around his dripping digits. He sucked them clean, dropping his eye into a wink and turning his back to you to wash his hair, his hard on being left unattended to, much to your surprise.

 Day 7:

So far, so good. To your knowledge, Jaemin had managed to not touch his penis in any sexual way at all, which again, had shocked you. You’d assumed he wouldn’t make even 3 days, so him having lasted a week actually impressed you. Despite many close calls, Jaemin had reigned in the hormones and want for you, simply keeping it in his pants, or by pulling away during your steamy session in the shower days prior. About an hour ago, Jaemin had fallen asleep on your bed, even though you’d both planned on walking down the local convenience store to buy snacks for the evening. Not wanting to disturb him because his sleeping face made your heart warm, you’d decided to go on your own and leave him to nap. Choosing not to rush, you’d taken your time in getting the snacks, and stealthily entered your apartment silently in case Jaemin was still sleeping. You’d dumped the snacks on the kitchen counter, and slowly creeped towards your bedroom. You raised an eyebrow in confusion when you heard weird noises emitting from the room. You held your ear to the door, listening as realization dawned on you, causing you to gasp loudly.

“Na Jaemin!” You burst into the room, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re watching porn!!!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and arms folded across his chest. You paused, about to accuse him of losing no nut November when you noticed he wasn’t touching himself inappropriately. “You’re…erm…are you watching porn for the plot?” You glanced at the television opposite your bed, the scandalous video of a girl having a cock shoved down her throat greeting your eyes.

“Kinda…” He shrugged, grabbing the remote and shutting off the power.

“You’re so strange…” You both looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“I was bored, and I missed it!” He defended himself, watching your every move as you slinked closer to the bed, a seductive look gleaming in your eye. You’d had enough of this stupid no nut November thing, deciding once and for all the test his resolve. “What are you doing…?” He asked suspiciously when you clambered onto the bed, throwing your leg over his own and sitting just above his knees on his outstretched legs.

“Oh nothing…” You bit your bottom lip alluringly, his eyes watching your hands as they slowly peeled down his jogging bottoms. “Lift your hips like a good boy yeah?” You winked, his hips lifting automatically to your order. You pulled his joggers down, his boxers coming down with them. His hard cock sprang up to his t-shirt, your eyes zoning in on it like a predator hunting its prey. You pushed his t-shirt up, exposing his defined abs and smirking as a bead of pre-cum oozed from the tip onto his stomach.

“Hey…don’t touch that penis missy.” He spoke with a dominating tone, you giggled, raising an eyebrow challengingly at him.

“Or what?”

“Or I lose no nut November!” He gulped, sighing and leaning his head back onto the soft pillow of your bed. “Fine. Touch it.”

“Yay!” You gripped his cock at the base, pulling it so it stood upright. Your touch took his breath away, a week proving to be too long for the absence of having his dick touched in a sexual manner. This is what he’d been craving since the he’d decided to take on this stupid challenge, and he knew he couldn’t last out long. You held eye contact with him, leaning down to rest the head of his cock on your bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.” He wasn’t used to this amount of dominance from you, it causing a firework of pleasure to burst inside his stomach.

“Suck my cock baby girl, make me cum.” You poked your tongue out, kitten licking another drop of pre-cum that spilled. The bitter taste didn’t bother you, and you actually enjoyed giving your boyfriend blowjobs, knowing a lot of your friends had different opinions on giving head. “Hurry.” His own dominance shone through, challenging your own and giving you the sensation of needing to comply to him. You fluttered your eyelashes at him, taking the head of his cock between your lips and sucking gently. “Oh fuck.” He wanted to bend his knees, but you were caging them underneath your body, restricting his movement. His fingers found their way into your hair, gripping at it gently. Without any warning, you took all of his hard length into your mouth, sucking harshly and bobbing your head up and down in perfect rhythm. Puffs of air left his parted lips as he tried to cope with the pleasure coursing through his cock, his toes curling in response.

You pulled off to wipe at your mouth, spit forming in the corners of your lips. You leaned forward, placing soft kisses on his abs and slowly trailing them back down to his red, leaking cock awaiting the presence of your warm mouth. You take him back in your mouth, making sure to stare into his soul as your drag your lips down his shaft and back up against tauntingly, letting your lips leave the tip with a pop. You use your hand to pump him fast, biting your bottom lip as his stomach starts to flex. He whimpered, squirming on the bed before letting out a loud grunt, his grip on your hair tugging harshly as he came. You’d opened your mouth in perfect time, white ribbons coating your tongue and lips.

“Fuck you look hot covered in my cum.” He panted, watching as you closed your mouth and made a point to lick your lips provocatively in front of him. “You’re a dirty girl.” He spoke lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught his breath. You let go of his cock, letting it flop to the side without cause. “Also, fuck you! I was doing great at no nut November and you just had to ruin it didn’t you!” After the bliss of his orgasm wore off, he sat up, pushing you onto your back against the bed. You squeaked in surprise, suddenly the ceiling being all you could see until Jaemin came into your view, his body hovering over your own.

“Punish me then.” Winking at him to rile him up, you trailed a hand over your own body, squeezing your boob over your clothes and grinning cheekily at him. “Do your worst.”

“You’re in for a long night baby girl.” He smirked his famous smirk at you, immediately diving in to suck at the crook of you neck. 

No Nut November: Na Jaemin - Fail.

(A/N: Hello! Thank you so much to everyone whose liked/reblogged/commented and messaged me about this series. It’s been a wild ride and I’m overwhelmed from the love its gotten! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you thought of the series as a whole and whether you’d like me to do Destroy Dick December!)

[roughentumble]

I would like to hear.. your silence of the lambs series opinions......

series as in, the new clarice tv show that's out? haven't watched it yet. series as in, those old movies that feature anthony hopkins as hannibal lecter? surely!

fair warning, i probably dont have anything new to say that hasnt been said before, considering these are all long since classics, and my thoughts might be a little disjointed.

it's difficult to sum up opinions about it on the whole, since the movie quality honestly varies so wildly, and as i recall basically every single movie had a different director lol. also like, there's definitely a reason silence of the lambs stood out as The hannibal movie that got talked about and went into The Annals Of Film History n' all that. there's something about jodie foster's performance that's particularly electric(though that could be nostalgia talking, i suppose)

the opportunities she had, as an actress, to really show emotion on her face, like the claustrophobic close-ups we got were really intimate and interesting, added to the sense we were getting into her head. that HANNIBAL was getting into her head. i've already used the word intimate, but really, the long drawn out conversations/monologues between her and hannibal are just that-- intimate. you have to have stellar performances to pull off that much dialogue, and shots that intensely focused, where a face takes up so much of the screen. but it works! because hopkins and foster are fantastic actors, and jonathen demme is a good director.

there's a reason a lot of people didn't like the switch to julianne moore, and i would say it isnt entirely moore's fault. ridley scott, for one, is simply a different director with different ideas of shot composition, which changes how the character feels pretty drastically when the style so heavily informed your feelings for her. but also, in general, the film just kind of approaches clarice from a different angle, which is pretty bumpy territory to go into on the tail of switching your lead actress. not only is moore just really different from foster, but we've gone from this kind of invasive intimacy with hannibal probing her in confined spaces, to her being on the chase. in particular what sticks out to me is a chase sequence where she's trying to find hannibal in a crowded mall.(i think it was a mall?? its been a minute since i last watched the film haha) despite how the crowd might lead to a sense of claustrophobia, these are wide open shots with lots of spinning and movement, no time for introspective face journies. it's a chase in a totally different sense than before, and that i think is major difference in tone. which isn't to say it's a bad choice, or a loss, or that it's worse, just that it's fundamentally very different material that moore was given fo work with. of course her performance differed from fosters!

i still think jodie foster did it better, but some folks were too hard on julianne moore. if anything, hold beef with the writers and new director for pivoting tonally(although, dont do that either, i think it was an interesting shift. the scene with her and hannibal, where hannibal fries up that dude's brain was SO GOOD, i loved loved loved the return to a twisted sense of intimacy for that scene, and a few others, and that sense of return wouldn't have hit the same were the whole movie to follow the same tone as demme's work.)

also quick sidebar, when i watched hannibal(the movie from 2001) i was BLOWN AWAY by realizing, in retrospect, just how absolutely perfectly micheal pitt nailed the role of mason verger in hannibal(the tv show). vocally, he sounded almost identicle to the og performance, WHAT!!! major props, i love micheal pitt. so cool

manhunter 1987 or whatever year it came out is garbage and we dont talk about it. it was physically painful to watch. my poor mother made us stop watching hannibal movies for the rest of the day because it literally put her in physical pain. it's so 80s i want to vomit. do not recommend.

red dragon was pretty good, and if you entered the series of films armed only with knowledge of hannibal nbc, gave some really fascinating context to some of the events therein. edward norton's performance was fine-- didn't blow my mind, but i do love to watch him on screen. anthony hopkins' portrayal of a free hannibal, on the run, who still can't help but taunt the police and stick his nose into investigations was shockingly compelling, despite how much of a cliche trope that's become in recent years. can't say i recall anything interesting to say about the directing, but it certainly doesnt hold the same intimacy of the previous films-- but then again, we've lost the intimate character of clarice, swapping her out for graham(who simply isnt as close, or interesting, or compelling, when he isnt on nbc and shaking like a wet chihuahua)

hannibal rising, the last film in the series, was very very very bad. BUT, unlike manhunter 198whatever, it managed to be fun about it! lots of very goofy deaths and things to make you roll your eyes, stupid character motivations and odd acting choices. but it seems aware, on some level, that it's the last and the silliest of the entries into this particular film series, which earns it some good will. whether or not its worth a watch comes down to how much you're willing to consume everything with the name hannibal on it, and whether you can abide by a hannibal that isnt played by sir anthony hopkins.

OK. ok. we're getting to the end of my thoughts here, kids. i prommy.

it's also, despite every single part of it that i enjoy and that brings me joy, almost unforgivably racist and transphobic. the weird exotification and obsession with asia(and japan in particular), especially when none of those elements felt important or relevant to the story was consistently shocking, and consistently present in essentially every single hannibal movie, ESPECIALLY ones that dealt with his childhood. it didn't ever feel like a natural part of the story, where they happened include people from another culture or anything, it felt like the author's fetish. i never truly understood how these reoccuring themes and symbols were meant to tie in with the rest of the story, even after an entire film set in the past, showiing hannibal's childhood and how he came to live with a japanese woman. it was weird! it was uncomfortable! it was bad! even hannibal nbc couldnt make it not weird. i'd love a hannibal movie with a japanese person in it who WASNT treated really, really, really weird. but i dont think i will ever get that.

and like. wrt transphobia-- do i even need to say it? buffalo bill's been talked to death. we all know the issue there.

if a japanese person, or a trans woman, came to me and said "shawn, everyone says its a classic, but i cant bring myself to watch [insert hannibal movie here]" i would not blame them. it isnt the whole movie, but its enough to feel real bad, scoob.

its not enough to make me fall out of love with silence of the lambs, or hate hannibal(the film, god thats a confusing name), or even hate the film series, but its something that deserves tl be talked about. i've heard lots of discussion on the transphobia, but basically none on the racism, which is a real shame. sometimes it feels like no one else even noticed it, and it really leaves me floundering, because its like-- its RIGHT THERE and its so weird and bad. thomas harris, what the fuck

OKAY I THINK THATS ALL MY THOUGHTS FOR NOW?????? i could maybe come up with more, *shrugs*, but i'd need more time at least.

summary:: very problematic, and not because he eats people. but overall some of the films are fantastic, and silence of the lambs does hold a special place in my heart. and even if i didnt like it nearly as much, i'll defend hannibal(the film with julianne moore) till im blue in the face, because even if it didnt quite capture lightening in a bottle it still brought some interesting things to the table. decent enough movie series with enough variation in film tone and quality to make watching them all in a row enjoyable, because it keeps things from getting stale. (could probably have done with SOME consistency tho, lol, they were really flying by the seat of their pants. they had hopkins and that was IT, only thing that carried over from production to production lol)

[robbyrobinson]

CTHULHU MYTHOS X THE OWL HOUSE CROSSOVER: The Gods Awaken: Pt. III

It was shortly after Boscha’s expulsion from Hexside that things relatively returned to normal if there was ever such a thing considering it was the Boiling Isles. Luz and her friends were in the library in Amity’s personal section.  

“Are you totally sure that you are fine, Willow?” Luz asked.  

“Of course. Just still kind of jolted from how mad Boscha was; it’s like she was being serious with her threat.”

Amity tapped her fingers in thought unsure of what to say next. While Willow did insist that she was doing fine, she could detect a small trace of fear from the tone of her voice. If push came to shove, she would have to track Boscha down to confront her about her behavior.

“Something still doesn’t rub me the right way,” Gus announced.  

“Yes, Gus?” Luz said.  

“What was that with that whole my Amity thing?”  

They scratched their heads and turned their attention to Amity. Amity was still weighing her options, but she could sense that she was being watched. She slowly looked up from her seat. She had a frown plastered on her face.  

“Oh, that,” she said, “I didn’t hear her say that.”  

The group unanimously rolled their eyes clearly not buying what she insisted. Amity sighed heavily in defeat. “Well, remember how my parents told me to end my friendship with Willow?”  

Willow and Luz frowned from the displeasure of the thought. Amity noticed this and tilted her head. It was apparent that this would be an unfavorable discussion and she secretly wished that they would talk her out of further elaborating. When she saw that they did not back down, she continued.  

“Boscha was to be one of my friends as recommended by my parents. Boscha...was the absolute worst.”  

“But Boscha is mean,” Amity whined to her parents. It was a recurrent complaint that they had heard. She had said the same thing over and over until they eventually mentally memorized it.

“Remember Amity,” Odalia said, her voice stern, “if you do not comply, we will have it arranged that your friend’s chances at attending Hexside are slim to none.”  

Amity gritted her teeth. She hated how she had no power over her parents and always succumbed to carrying out their will as twisted as it was. She was escorted out of her home and rode with her parents.

Boscha’s house was deep within the town of Bonesborough where the mountains surrounding it were made from large bone structures. Amity did sometimes travel into the square of the town, and was never intimidated by the sights of the medieval architectures. But now, she felt her throat close up.  

Much like the other residents of the town, Boscha’s house was situated alongside the two, gargantuan arms decorating the already macabre town. It was towards the bottom base of the arms. Amity and her parents stepped out and stood in front of the house. Boscha’s house was made of a combination of wood and stone. The most striking figure of the house, however, was its architecture. Multitudes of eyes of varying sizes were scattered throughout every orifice. Amity looked up at her parents again, but they were indifferent with the design of the house.  

“Well, here we are,” Odalia announced.  

Amity took a few more passing glances at the house. She looked at her parents with begging eyes hoping that it would elicit whatever emotion that was buried down within them. Before she could say anything else, her father was already at the door. On the door’s frame was a small, wrinkled hand holding the hinge within its grasp. He lifted it and struck it against the plate.  

Klunk. Klunk. Klunk.  

A monotonous tone rung out and echoed through the walls of the house. The Blight parents stood there propped against the door with Amity a short distance from them. After waiting a minute, they heard a rustling in the house.  

“Titan give me strength,” droned a voice.

The door swung open nearly knocking Amity’s father out. They were met by a three-eyed woman with bags under her eyes. Her hair was in a disarray and disheveled. She grumbled to herself, some of her words clearly being inappropriate to the young Amity’s ears, but were roughly inaudible. In her hand, she held a mug of apple blood which she took a deep swig of.  

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance again,” Odalia smiled. She held out her hand to the mother of the three-eyed girl. The mother rubbed her bottom eyes and shook Odalia’s hand.  

“I take it that you brought your daughter here for the arranged playdate?”  

Odalia nodded. “Yes; I am hoping that your daughter takes my sweet Amity under her wing and teach her the ropes.”  

“Oh, right, right. I can assure you that she can do so.”  

“Where is she anyway?” Amity’s father asked.  

“In her room like a good girl; feel free to escort Amity.”  

He did as he was told holding onto Amity’s hand and made his way to the stairs. Amity, ever so defiant, pressed her feet down as hard as they could go. She wiggled her wrist in rapid succession hoping that would be the final nail in her father’s coffin. But he was undeterred and waited for his daughter to tire herself out. Amity’s strength weakened, and with no other option lest she furthered her father’s wrath, Amity gave in and accompanied her father up the stairs.  

They neared the last step towards the three-eyed girl’s room and stopped there. Thoughts of breaking away at the last minute while her father was distracted filled her mind but she knew it would be foolish to test her father like that.  

“Father, please don’t make me do this.”  

He sighed. “Believe me, dear, I would rather you continue to play with that other girl, but I have too much on my plate to deal with.”  

This perked his daughter’s ears. “But, but why?”  

“I have nothing but disgust for the way that her father is so...unapproachable, but he is a business partner all the same.” He rubbed his eyes before speaking again. “Besides, your mother would probably incinerate me if I said no to her.”  

Amity frowned in disgust at how spineless her father was when it came with pleasing his wife, but she saw that she was thoroughly defeated. Amity nodded in an understanding fashion and knocked on the door. She waited for a few seconds before knocking again.  

“GAH!! Mom, I told you to buzz off!” a shrill voice yelled.  

Amity backed away from the door. The door opened revealing what seemed at first to be a miniature sized replica of the three-eyed woman who opened the door for them. She wore a black shirt and pants that had the illusion of sloppily being put on presumably at the last minute. Messy wads of black polish were on her fingers. She was likely improperly trying to paint her nails as well but was less than adequate with it.  

“Oh, you’re that Blight kid my mom had been talking about.”

Amity nodded awkwardly to confirm her suspicions. Her room was a total mess: clothes in large mounds on the floor making it less walkable; food was littered and potentially became sentient, thinking beings. From what little she could make out; Amity could see a purple scroll on Boscha’s bed. She stared at it a bit before speaking again.  

“So...you use Penstragram?”  

Boscha scoffed. “Yeah, and what of it?”  

“Well, I was contemplating on getting one myself.”  

Boscha crossed her arms. “And why are you telling me this?”  

Amity shrugged. “I...I guess because you could teach me how to use it? Maybe?”  

Boscha sighed whilst relaxing her arms. “Oh, Titan, you are pathetic, aren’t you?”  

Amity looked down dejected. Boscha had all three of her eyes closed, but she opened the one that was close to her forehead. “I guess I can teach you.”  

Amity nodded again. She wasn’t really looking for any assistance, nor was she seriously contemplating on getting a Penstagram account, but at the least she did get the boulder moving. Boscha knelt down and pulled something from underneath it.  

“Boscha, what is tha-”  

She nearly fell on her words when she saw Boscha slip a small plush toy. It had spikes wedged deeply into it, some were sticking from the sides. Amity was unable to make out what the toy was supposed to be because from the looks of it, Boscha had stabbed it into an unrecognizable mess. Boscha looked at her in curiosity.

“What? I do this to relieve stress.”  

Amity gulped loudly. A nervous smile spread across her face.

[certifiedskywalker]

Academic Misgivings (Part One) - Peter Parker

Here it is! Part One!  Remember this is a Rivals-To-Lovers, slow burn story with a Fem!reader. This also takes place after Homecoming and before Endgame. FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED!

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemy either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you.  He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Blood was pounding in your ears, heart thundering in your chest as if spurred to life by some angered beast. The sensation of tingling nerves as your hand seemingly hovered, magnetically drawn, over the buzzer. Adrenaline drove you through the thrill as Mr. Harrington’s monotone voice echoed in your skull. The question floated in your mind, seeking its own answers locked away between the neurons of your brain.

With a snap of synapse your whole being jolted. Your palm slammed on the buzzer so hard that the light within shuddered a violent red. Mr. Harrington’s brown eyes widened in shock at the sound but her quickly composed himself.

“Midtown?”

“What is the Fibonacci Spiral.”

“Correct!” Mr. Harrington rang a little bell and turned his back to you. Finally, you allowed yourself to breathe, although it felt more like a wild gasp of air.

“Figures,” you heard someone grumble behind you, but you were too caught up in rolling off the high of affirmation. The mounting joy was building like the apprehension of riders on a roller coasters first crest of a large hill.

“Great job, Y/N. You’ll be heading the B team in Chicago.” And there was the stomach sinking drop. No cheers filled your ears, only disappointed thoughts barraged your mind.

“The B team? Doesn’t my improvement push me up to the A team?” The rest of the academic decathlon team fell silent at your question. You didn’t have to turn around to know that all eyes were on you. Almost all eyes.

“Well we already have Mr. Parker leading A team. We need to keep our heaviest hitters spread out through the sets of questions.” Your hands curled into tight fists. It would take you and ‘Mr. Parker’ to even out the intellect on B team. You opened your mouth to say exactly that when the school library doors flew wide. A red faced, panting, Peter Parker had decided to show up. Now, all eyes were on you as you loomed over the table.

“So, so sorry, this won’t happen again, I promise,” Peter said, his bright eyes shifting from you to Mr. Harrington. The man peered at him through his thick rimmed glasses with an almost fatherly expression. Peter, like a scolded child, dropped his backpack next to the others and found an empty seat on the other table, opposite you.

“It better not,” despite the veiled threat, Mr. Harrington’s voice was soft. “We need you in Chicago Peter. You’re our secret weapon.” If it weren’t for Peter’s awkward laugh, everyone could have heard your eyes rolling in their sockets. Ever since you were both young, Peter Parker had never failed to show you up. If he wasn’t deemed superior under the circumstances, then you were put on an equal footing that always set you more on edge than his overwhelming victories.

For instance, there was the first grade summer reading program. The program itself was not, in name a contest; but as soon as the plump librarian dotted on the fact that you and Peter were ‘neck and neck’ with the amount of books you had both read, you drove yourself to collect on a phantom prize. At the end-of-summer reading palooza party hosted by the public library, the final count was drawn in a tie. You and Peter had read a grand total of 42 books a piece, a hefty sum for a couple of seven year olds.

Then there was the infamous war forged on the third grade front of Mrs. Davis’ classroom. The lovely lady taught science, arguably your favorite subject and Peter’s realm of fascination. Mrs. Davis had both you and Peter in her fifth hour class and would often call on either of you to run errands for her before lunch period. The battle to be her teacher’s pet was intense between you and Peter. It was only in fourth grade did you both learn that being a teacher’s pet was the worst thing anyone could be, ever. Nevertheless, the seeds of animosity had sprouted that year and sixth grade only serves to nourish the growth.

The second year of middle school had not only stirred up the beginnings of puberty but also supplied an outlet for your budding hostility towards your academic rival. You weren’t one for physical education, much preferring a good book than a good jog, but dodge-ball was a godsend. Peter was as lanky as a stick bug, making him a smaller target but that also meant he couldn’t throw very far either. The dodge-ball intramural championship gave you your very first win against district-wide admiration of Peter Parker.

Despite how tall and suddenly handsome Peter had gotten over Summer break, your jealousy towards him remained. The flames were only stoked when girls would, happily, go up to talk to him, compliment him. Burning with envy, for which party, that you were unsure of, you finally talked to Peter. All years past, your competition to outdo each other had been silent. Not a word had passed between you before seventh grade and it only served to anger you further.

Peter was kind. So kind that he made you feel like your bitter rivalry had been one sided. Further fueled, you competed against him in a school hosted trivia night. However, the fates seemed to be against your thirst for conquest because you and Peter ended up on the same team. Granted, that team had won, but between you and Peter, no winner was named.

This fervent yet unspoken clash continued to grow as you both entered high-school. Freshman year had consisted of fighting to see which one of you would join the academic decathlon team first. Peter had made the A team and you the B team. The results presented a persistent conflict between you and the boy genius that had followed up to the current Junior year. Was it childish? Perhaps. Were you ever going to admit that? No.

The sound of a loud practice buzzer went off, breaking you out of your reflection.  When you looked up at the table opposite, your jaw clenched. Of course it had been Peter to answer the question. His friend, Ned, clapped him on the shoulders and you felt your own tense up.

“Correct, as always, Mr. Parker.” Mr. Harrington changed the score on the board and you felt your skin crawl. Peter was always the star pupil, no matter how well you performed in his absence. “Alright next question. Hypertrichosis is colloquially known by this name…”

The meat of your palm stung when it impacted with the buzzer. “What is Werewolf Syndrome.”

“Correct!”

You smiled smugly, reclining back in the uncomfortable chairs that, on some vile whim, the school board had deemed perfect for the campus library. Ready to gauge Peter’s disappointment in himself, you spared a glance his way. You found his brown eyes on you, lips offered you half of a smile. You wanted to gag. The role of team player had never suited you, but Peter worn it well like the clothes on his back.

“Well, that ties up our practice scores!” Your head seemed to spin out of your control as you snapped your gaze to the white, erase marker board Mr. Harrington was holding up. Just once, that was all you wanted, to win. “That gives me the opportunity to talk about the trip to Chicago.”

A chorus of limited cheers and apprehensive stares flooded the room. MJ finally looked up from her book at the news of the field trip. Some of the team was still reeling from their last one. Washington had been a great victory if you ignored how they almost died afterwards.

“It’s gonna be fun guys!” A cheerful cry from Betty, a lovely blonde sophomore. She hadn’t been on the trip to Washington. Flash, how was sitting beside you, let out a snicker at the younger girl’s optimism.

“That’s right, thank you, Betty,” Mr. Harrington continued, “sadly, due to budget cuts, we will be taking a smaller bus this time. Pack lightly and tell your parents that you will be safe. Everyone signed the waivers, yes?” Most of the team spoke up in response. “Great. Now remember, meet at the front doors at five fifty-five. We’ll be leaving the school at six.”

“So much for the healthy, professionally recommended eight hours of sleep,” MJ remarked, bringing a smile to your lips. You had never had a long conversation with her, but from what experiences you did have with MJ, you took her to be the wittiest person you had ever met. Much to your amusement, that same wit had a tiring effect on Mr. Harrington who, after MJ’s critique, promptly dismissed the team.

You stood swiftly and began to gather your things. The team had a bad habit of stacking bags on top of one another, so it took a moment for you to find you backpack. Once you dug it out of the stack of bags, you spun on your heel and nearly fell face-first into Peter.

“Oh, s-”

“Watch it, Parker,” you snap before the blush on your cheeks became too visible. he warmth from his body had dulled the flames of embarrassment for a moment before you had realized how close you were to him. You didn’t give Peter a chance to reply as you pushed past him. Luckily, it seemed that no one had noticed the dusting of pink along your face.

The white-hot soreness was put to rest by the crisp afternoon breeze of New York. While Midtown School of Science and Technology wasn’t in the heart of the city, it was close enough to the bay where, every now and then, a gentle breeze would carry off from the water. Such a gust was especially felt after school when the sun was no longer at its peak. The receding sunshine made for a cool walk home.

You adjusted the straps of your bag more securely over your shoulders, hoping to keep your mind off of the moment before. Any interaction with Peter had the innate gift of setting you on edge. You clenched your jaw as you walked, the grinding of your teeth drowning out the pestering thoughts of him. However the one sound that wasn’t overshadowed was the quick pattering of feet on the length of sidewalk behind you.

“Y/N! Wait up!’ You turned your head for a brief moment and, after recognizing the figure chasing after you, you picked up your pace. “Y/N!”

“Not now, Flash, I have stuff to do!” You felt a hand grab your wrist and you stopped in place. Glaring at your peer, you yanked your hand away.

“It will only take a moment.” Teeth gritted, you stared at him.

“It better be worth it.”

Flash gave you a startlingly smug grin as you followed him into a nearby coffee shop. He ordered some absurdly complicated mocha-cappuccino concoction before you both found a secluded table. If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have enjoyed the shop. It was painted a calming sea-blue and littered with antiques of all sorts. The interior gave off a relaxed aura that was brutally interrupted when Flash sat in front of you as he stirred an alarming amount of sugar in his already frothy drink.

“Alright, I have a proposition for you,” Flash said, placing his coffee stirrer on a napkin. 

“A proposition? What are you, a mob boss?”

“Nah,” Flash said coolly as he waved his hand in dismissal, “just a boss in general.” You had to keep yourself from gagging as he continued. “It’s clear to me, everyone really, that you’re not Peter Parker’s biggest fan.”

You let out an amused huff. “Really? You’ve noticed?”

“Neither am I,” Flash said, having ignored your remark. “Which is why I extend an olive branch to you.”

“What does this olive branch entail?” You leaned forward with a quirked brow, eyeing Flash. He had your attention.

“You want to be on A team, as do I. No one can move up with Peter sitting there with his other nerd friends. With the right manner of,” Flash leaned close to whisper, “sabotage, we can both get what we want.”

“Sabotage?” You leaned back in your seat, eyes skirted the features of the weasel before you. What Flash was selling was enticing, but the idea of stooping to his level was wholly unappealing. Or perhaps it was the prospect of playing dirty that appalled you, the risk of actually hurting Peter maybe. You shook your head. “Not interested.”

“Hold on, hold on, you haven’t heard my plan yet,” Flashed raised his hands to calm you, keep you listening. “One of us would befrien-”

“Really, not interested Flash,” you interrupted as you stood up from your seat. “I don’t need to ‘sabotage’ him, I’m better than him.”

“Judging by your stable and steady position on the B team, it seems like you might not be.” Rage, pure, unadulterated rage flooded your body and turned your sight red. You turned to glare at Flash before you stomped out of the coffee shop.

You didn’t need him, you thought as the cool air hit your face once more, don’t need anyone. For you entire life, you had been going it alone so what was something more? You would show Flash and, hopefully, Peter. That leading spot on the A team was going to be yours.

“Y/N, hold on! I’m sorry, but please, listen!” You kept walking and, when he realized he was being ignored, Flash hurried to your side. “If you don’t to sabotage him, can we at least train together? If we’re like really good maybe the city can organize for us to meet Spiderman or even Iron Man! He gave that internship to Parker of all people so maybe-”

“What is it with you and Spiderman?” You countered, hoping to get off the road of this conversation with a well-worn detour.

“I dunno, he’s just….he’s like really cool! Did I ever tell you about the time at Homecoming he took my car?! It was-”

“You told everyone about that,” you grumbled, clearly annoyed. “Why don’t you find someone that doesn’t know that story, yeah?”

You took advantage of his silence and darted quickly down the block. Flash’s strength of talking when no one wanted him to was also his greatest weakness. One that could be easily exploited if you were in need of a getaway. Home was just a few more blocks down.

As you rounded a corner, you nearly ran into a couple walking by. The man’s arm was lazily slung over the woman’s shoulder, who smiled so brightly it was almost like she had been paid to do it. The couple exchanged giggles as you passed by and your heart sank. It had been normal for you to be so painfully focused on the academic side of your life that you had neglected almost every other facet of it. That included romance.

Peter and his ridiculously large brain and his shy little smile took up far too much of your time for you to have even entertained a relationship. Books and trivia apps were your closest friends. Your family was a different story altogether. From the moment Peter Parker walked into your life, everything had changed. You imagined his life had changed too.

As you walked, a shadow fluttered over the length of sidewalk before you. Ever so curious, you looked up to see a man swinging from building to building; Spiderman, specifically. He was hard to miss with the bright red suit and flailing limbs, spindly like his name sake. The powered man looked just as you remembered him from the first time you had seen him. Up close, he had looked more like a boy than man as he safely loaded you and the rest of the team in the elevator inside the Washington Monument on solid ground.

It all felt like a distant memory as the apartment complex you called home came into sight. Everything that last year had felt clean and safe, perfectly juxtaposed to life now. Spiraled out of control, you had once said to your mother. She hadn’t responded and you knew that she wouldn’t. You climbed the steps, as the elevator was out of order, all the way to the eighth story.

By the time you had unlocked the door, your feet ached for respite. As you kicked off your shoes, the sound of them as they hit the floor echoed in through the apartment. There was no carry-over bustle from the streets. The exposed brick bore no life in the form of family portraits. No one was home except for you and your thoughts; as usual.

You woke the next morning at five. Luckily, before you had fallen asleep, you had enough foresight to pack for the Chicago trip. Textbooks to read during the drive, clothes for the three day stay, and your favorite green sweatshirt already thrown over your loose t-shirt. From the last trip, you had learned to wear comfy clothes for long bus drives. The twelve hours from the school to Chicago was the perfect excuse to dress lazily.

From the near-empty fridge, you grabbed snacks and bottled water for the road. Already, the idea of competing with the highest ranked schools in The Windy City made your stomach churn. With the twisting nerves, you decided to skip breakfast. A poor choice, you soon realized as you lugged your bag down the seemingly endless flights of stairs.

By the time five fifty-five rolled around, you were sweaty from the trek from your home to the school. Mr. Harrington looked exhausted but the ever spry young Literature teacher, Ms. Lauren, chattered away to the team as they boarded the small bus.

“Ok kids, I know you’re tired, but put your bags in the back of the bus so we can easily unpack it when we get to the hotel.” You wondered if Ms. Lauren happened to be a morning person or if the large, travel mug of coffee held tight in her hands had anything to do with her wide smile.

Once your bag was stacked with the rest, you settled in a seat towards the front. MJ’s mass of curls popped up in a seat nearby, her sneaker-clad feet hung out in the aisle. Ned and Betty, the blonde sophomore, idly chatted, talking about the last time they had been up so early. Late, as usual, Peter Parker made his way on the bus.

“You’re lucky this wasn’t practice, peebag,” Flash sneered when Peter walked past him. The skinny boy dragged a suitcase behind him, one of the front pockets unzipped showed a type of red workout shirt. Or at least you assumed as much, judging by the look of the material.

“Hi Peter,” Ned greeted loudly, making you crane your neck to glare in their direction. It was much too early for pleasantries.

“Hey, Ned,” Peter said quietly as he added his bag to the pile. He gave Betty a nod of greeting before working his way back to the front of the bus. He stopped beside MJ’s seat, just in front of you. “Can I?”

MJ only glared in response, her legs remained sprawled lengthwise along the seat. Peter sighed and turned to look for any other empty seat. As he did, the rather crabby looking bus driver had slammed the bus door shut. The small bus jolted and Peter gripped the edge of your seat tightly, as he kept from falling.

“Is this seat taken?” Peter asked you, his tried looking brown eyes met your gaze in earnest. You stared back at him, mouth parted as your mind tried to register what was happening. It seemed that Fate was against you once more.

“Sit down kid!” The gravelly voiced of the bus driver reached your ears and pulled you back to the present. Locked eyes tore away from Peter’s as you moved. You scooted down the bus seat until your side was pressed up against the window. Peter said a soft ‘thank you’ but you were much too peeved to reply. You hoped that if you pressed your cheek against the cool surface of the window that the blush that had burned into your skin would fade. No such luck.

However, what it did cool, was your heated thoughts. A dull ache that had plagued you since you had wakened vanished. Finally at some sort of ease, you allowed yourself to close your already hooded eyes. You felt warmth as you drifted off to sleep, a safety you hadn’t had in a long time.

Whether it was the jolt or the sunlight filtering through the slightly grimy bus window that woke you, you were unsure. All you knew was that you were comfortable. Slowly, your eyes opened as you cringed against the rising sun. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since you had left, but tiredness still seeped into your bones.

It was when the sounds of snickering filled yours ears that you awoke fully. The telltale sound of a phone’s digital camera shutters clicked off and you were thrown into a frenzy of embarrassment as you realized why you were so comfortable in the first place. As if his body had burned you, you pulled your head away from Peter’s shoulder. You narrowly avoided knocking skulls thanks to an alarming quick reaction on Peter’s part.

“What?!” Your shout caused the growing crowd around you and Peter to scurry off.

“Ar-Are you okay?” Peter’s soft brown eyes met yours and held the utmost, disgusting amount of concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The bus jus-just jolted,” you grumbled in reply. Peter nodded but you knew that he knew it was a lie. You had never been quite good at lying.

“Oh, o-okay,” Peter murmured before he fumbled with his phone. You rested the side of your face against the window once more and watched other cars race by. Silently you hoped that the movement would keep you awake. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed Peter as he attempted to untangle his earbuds. He gave up halfway through and put the small speakers in his ears. The cover art on his lockscreen read ‘Bastille’ in bold white font. Of course he had good taste in music too, you thought bitterly.

The twelve hour drive dwindled down to it’s final hours, marked but the periodic buzzing of Peter’s phone on his lap. After it went off three times in a row you looked at in annoyance and hoped Peter would take the hint. The notification was a text from MJ with nondescript emojis, including the squirt gun one. Peter didn’t seem to have noticed your glare and happily responded to the messages.

You let out an audible groan at the sight of his smile. The boyish, upwards quirk of his lips was nothing short of adorable and it physically pained you. Not only was Peter Parker smart and seemingly kind, but he was cute too. As well, at least from what you assumed from the messages, taken by one of the smartest girls in school. It simply wasn’t fair.

“Is Pissbag Parker annoying you?” Flash’s voice crept up from the seat behind you and made you jump slightly in your seat. Before you replied, Peter plucked out an earbud.

“Is everything okay?”

“You being too loud? Y/N here doesn’t seem to happy.” Flash’s taunts seemed to frighten Peter as he looked to you.

“N-No I’ve been quiet this whole time,” he stammered. Flash rolled his eyes and opened his mouth with a readied retort. You took the pause and stepped in.

“Peter’s been fine, Flash. A more agreeable bus partner than you are to John.” You gestured over to the skinny, black-haired boy Flash was sat beside. “Why don’t you be quiet?”

“Alright,” Flash said as he sat back down in his seat. You groaned again and turned back, only to have locked eyes with Peter once more.

“What? He was being annoying,” you said, justifying your rudeness.

“Y-yeah, n-no it’s jus-” Peter was cut off by a buzz. His phone lit up in his hand. Another message from MJ. You bit the inside of your cheek to quell the jealousy, but your envy spilled out before you could stop it.

“You better answer that,” you snapped before you settled back against the window. You let out a huff and hoped silently that the next few hours of the drive would go by quickly. It was torture, being sat next to Peter Parker and knowing full well just how more complete he was than you. Or, maybe it was the fact he was complete without you.

What do you think, my friends?? I hope you liked the first installment! I promise this story picks up, it’s a slow burn, like I said!

[peterparkerstarker]

Kinktober Day 19: Filming (Starker)

Cw: Starker, Camming/sex work, age difference, daddy kink, orgasm denial

@readysetstarker @jwolf18791 @warathena418 @pray4meireadstarker @thotticusmaxximus @mvrphyblooms @morgoona-stark @silkystark @untold-royalty @pollyparrot8 @sthefystarkersworld @katzenbaby1 @another-starker-hoe @tony-is-my-daddy @mystarkershame @plsstopgivingpetertrauma @hoeforthegays @lonleystarker @awesomeimportantfan @friendlyneighborhoodlosxr @hpspazz @starker-obsessions @starkershomelife @tightaroundthewebslinger @animefan1998-love @peterpissparker @starkercandy @loki-helmet @petecake @starkercrossedlovers @nerdylocksandthethreebears @thirstyhoe4yoongi @starker-reader @starkerissemiok @tomhollabel @momobaby227 @dragonskittysblog @sleepy-and-depressed

“Alright baby, you ready?” Tony asked Peter, kissing down his neck. The boy grinned and waved at the camera, eyes catching sight of the laptop set up just off screen. The viewers were pouring in now, eager for their first special Q&A camming session.

They’d had fans commenting for months, asking them to do one, but they’d never taken it seriously, until last cam session one of their regulars had offered triple his usual payment for them to just sit and talk on camera with the viewers, and others had jumped on the idea, offering extra money just to make it happen. Their Irondady & Spidertwink camming channel had grown exponentially in the past year, so they figured it was a good time to thank the loyal fans they’d acquired.

Peter was perched on Tony’s lap, in his typical iron grey collar and nothing else. Tony was far more clothed, in slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and collar undone. They’d discovered early on that this resonated well with their viewers, so they tended not to stray too far from this.

Peter smiled sweetly once more, and finally spoke, “Hey guys, we’re so excited to have you all here for this session. As most of you know, we’ve gotten a lot of requests to do a Question and Answer session, so we’re finally making this happen. We wanna give a huge thank you to the fans who made this possible, CaptainHandsome for suggesting it last session, and Winterwolf and Falconer for matching the Captain’s generous financial donation offers.” He looked so innocent, so small and young compared to the lascivious older man.

Just as Peter was done speaking Tony thrust up into him, revealing that he was unzipped and had actually been inside Peter this whole time, and said, “Just like I’m gonna make a generous donation into this hungry boy’s ass today,” with a filthy wink, and their money tracker bumped up suddenly, accompanied with a whirlwind of surprised comments.

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes, “Just cause you’re my Daddy doesn’t mean it’s okay to make awful dad jokes like that.”

Tony just laughed and replied, “I’d certainly hope your actual dad wouldn’t make jokes about fucking you,” with another roll of his hips that left Peter gasping.

Peter blushed, even after two years of fucking on camera for strangers, he genuinely got shy sometimes, and it was part of why fans loved them.

Once he collected himself well enough to read the laptop, Peter cleared his throat, and said, “So, I’m gonna let CaptainHandsome ask the first question, he wants to know how Irondaddy and I met.”

Tony started in, explaining that Spidertwink had been his intern at an engineering job. After one too many late nights alone in the lab, and some drinks after a really tough night, suddenly it was all they could do to not fuck on sight. Peter laughed and talked about the time they did fuck during work hours and nearly got caught by another intern.

“Suffice it to say, once his internship ended we decided to find more ways to keep working together. I’m just lucky this one won’t get me in trouble with HR, since neither of us work there anymore,” Tony finished explaining, grasping onto Peter’s half hard cock and stroking him lazily.

They kept answering questions, with Tony thrusting up into Peter whenever he felt like it, using him as a gorgeous little cockwarmer. Their viewers kept commenting on how much they clearly loved each other, and it made Peter happy to see that their fans genuinely seemed to like their relationship.

About 20 minutes in, a new viewer recommended that they make a game out of teasing Peter: Tony would thrust into him and stroke his now leaking cock while Peter tried in earnest to answer questions without getting distracted by the older man pounding into his ass or the hand pumping his own aching cock. Tony had howled with laughter and immediately agreed.

Peter had done well for the first three questions, thankfully they were easy ones. They were 21 years apart in age, his favorite author was Jane Austen, and yes he was an engineering major in his senior year of college.

But then things got complicated. Tony took it upon himself to start playing with one of Peter’s nipples, pinching and rolling it in his fingers, which left him gasping for air.

He stuttered out an answer, “Th-the most I’ve ever come was when--oh fuck, when we spent an hour edging me and I swear I probably came at least, oh, oh my god, at least three times. I didn’t know that was even possible, as a guy, but Irondaddy insists I-i must have super stamina or something…” Peter’s eyes rolled back as Tony jutted up against his prostate and he tried in vain to not lose control. On screen the money poured in, the fans were clearly loving this and whatever little part of Peter that was still able to think felt so proud of the effect he was having on them.

Tony snickered and gave the camera a sly look. “What do you all think? Did our little Spidertwink get too distracted?” Peter blushed cherry red as the fans responded with a chorus of messages, all saying yes. “I think it’s only fair then, that the highest bidder gets to choose his punishment then, within reason of course,” Tony winked again.

A flurry of messages popped up on the chat screen, but to no one’s surprise, CaptainHandsome outbid everyone by a long shot. Peter tried to hide his face in embarrassment as he saw the punishment suggestion, “Orgasm denial: prostate milking/overstimulation.” But his cock, which was still in full view of the camera, showed another story, twitching and leaking at the idea.

Tony thanked their loyal fan with another cocky smirk, and suddenly grabbed Peter by the collar, pounding into him from behind at a brutal pace. He’d been playful and easygoing compared to this, and it about made Peter cry from how much he could suddenly feel. It was warm and wet and too much at once, and he was crying, sobbing from how much he suddenly needed release.

But Tony had stopped stroking his cock, instead biting down hard on his neck and sucking, licking, lapping at the tender skin. Peter cried out, mewling and desperate to come, so close, so goddamn close.

Tony gripped two firm fingers in a circle at the base of his aching red cock, effectively killing any ability for Peter to come, as Tony himself came, spilling deep into him with a low grunt that rippled through his chest. Peter was speechless, unable to make a sound even as he sobbed from overstimulation. Too much, it was too much. But he wanted it so bad. Needed this. He could feel the cum leaking out of him around Tony’s cock, and it made him shiver, head spinning and skin practically on fire. He was panting still, and he felt dizzy emptiness as Tony pulled out.

Tony caressed his cheek, his chest, down his sides, turning Peter’s head to kiss at his temple and whisper in his ear. “You did so good for me, baby boy, so good for them. Look how happy you made them,” he insisted. He angled them so Peter could better see the computer screen.

Holy shit, they’d made triple what they normally did.

Peter gave the camera a sleepy, blissed out smile and thanked them all for watching. He still desperately needed to come, but they’d save that for later, once they were alone and he’d had time to come down from the intense sensations still buzzing across his skin. Tony kissed him once more, and then bid the viewers goodbye as well.

It had been an incredibly successful evening and they’d made a ridiculous amount of money.

Totally worth not being allowed to come, Peter thought hazily, as Tony cleaned him off and wrapped him in the bed covers. “Our best night in a long time,” he whispered, and Tony agreed.

[inforapound]

Ease The Dawn Part 2, Chapter 1

A/N - Fun chapter to write. Its rare Ivar is not in his element. 

Warnings - historical inaccurate use of profanity, explicit talk of sex. 

Words - 1,800 

The meeting had droned on nearly an hour longer than necessary. Distracted for most of it, Ivar still gave the vague impression that he would entertain his advisor's recommendations. Of course, he would not. He would do what he had decided before the show of a gathering even started. After all, he was the King of Kattegat.

The room cleared and Hvitserk was last to rise from his seat making his way past Ivar toward the door.

"I need woman advice," Ivar said over his shoulder. Discomfort obvious in his posture.

"I am the man for the job." Hvitserk slapped his hand down on Ivar's shoulder.

"Do not touch me." Ivar spat.

Returning to his seat, Hvitserk pulled it forward to face his brother, a little closer than they had been previously sitting. It had been years since Ivar had spoken to him about anything unnecessary or not relating to strategy or battles or the army. And, one could hardly describe it as speaking. Ivar gave Hvitserk commands. For the most part, he followed them. It was simply easier, and he had made his choices long ago. As foolish as it had been. Nodding his head, Hvitserk was set. He was going to provide his brother the best and most earnest council he could.

Swallowing with difficulty, Ivar shifted in his seat, looking like he might about-face and leave.

"It is about Aethelswith." He swallowed again, looking into his cup. "Obviously." His eyes shot up to meet Hvitserk's. "I worry that I think about her too much. Far too much. And," he hesitated, "that I am crazed."

Nodding in understanding, Hvitserk inhaled loudly through his nose.

"Ivar," he exhaled, "this is natural. You care very much for her."

"I am sick with thoughts of her body," Ivar rushed, running a hand over his tight braids.

"She is a beautiful woman. It is also natural." Pressing his lips into a flat smile, Hvitserk took a long pull from his cup.

"Since bedding her, I can barely think of anything else."

Air rushed out from Hvitserk's nose and he coughed, spurting ale out onto the floor between his legs. "You fucked her?" His eyes were wide with shock.

Ivar grinned at his reaction. Boyish pride breaking through over his discomfort talking on such a personal topic.

"This is amazing. No wonder you cannot stop thinking of her." Hvitserk smiled genuinely pleased. "Congratulations, little brother. Ubbe would be so proud."

Ivar's expression dimmed at the mention of their older brother, but he said nothing.

"Did it start at the camp?" Hvitserk asked.

"No, not until we returned here. Well, we were together there but not together, together.... with our whole bodies together, until we returned here."

Pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Hvitserk prevented himself from laughing at his little brother's dithering.

"All that time sleeping close to her in that tent." He raised one eyebrow, "Gods Ivar, you must have been in love."

"We are in love!" Ivar snapped but simmered quickly. Running his tongue back and forth over his lower lip, he fiddled with the cup in his hand. "At first it was once every several days." Ivar eyed Hvitserk as if assessing whether it was safe to continue.

With a slight bow of the head, Hvitserk indicated he was following.

"I was not able to.... more than that. Then it became every couple of nights and now it is every night and it still does not feel like enough. I think of nothing else!"

Hvitserk closed his eyes a moment, flaring his nostrils as he breathed out. "Ivar, I think about it throughout the day. Constantly. I have thought about it several times since you started talking."

"Do not dare think of my woman like that," Ivar seethed through gritted teeth, pointing his finger toward his brother.

"Easy," Hvitserk held his free hand up. "I have my own women to worry about. I was speaking in general terms."

Forcing out a long breath, Ivar shook his head at his own thoughts. "I do not have to even touch her or feel her hands on me, and I am aroused. She walked passed where I sat in the hall yesterday and just the shape of her body and the way she moved had me straining in my pants." Shaking his head, he looked down, fidgeting with a stitch on the seam of his cuff. "I felt unprepared." He looked back up to Hvitserk. "I never understood why you and the others chased woman so much, but I am starting to see."

"You have never experienced anything like this before?" Hvitserk asked, understanding that for Ivar, physical attraction and function were different than for himself and his brothers.

"I have admired woman's appearances before, obviously no one as beautiful as Aethelswith, but I have certainly never been an insane person over it. And now," Ivar leaned forward in his chair, "I find myself inflamed even when I wake."

Hvitserk grinned.

"Are you mocking me? Is this funny?" Ivar snapped.

"I swear to you brother, I am not mocking you. It is not funny and I am not laughing." Hvitserk, steadied his face knowing Ivar was being sincere. "Are you saying that you wake up with a hard cock?"

"Yes!" he hissed.

"Great!" Hvitserk declared, throwing a hand into the air. "Use it."

Huffing, Ivar ran his hand, again, over his tight braids, shifting his eyes to look around the room. He looked back to Hvitserk.

"But she is sleeping, and I wake early. There is so much that I am responsible for now." He sighed loudly.

"Brother, I think all that is happening is wonderful. Healthy even. She was destined for you. She has sparked your virility. Embrace it. Enjoy it. Wake her up with your hard cock. This is something all men go through in their lives." Hvitserk paused choosing his next words with care. "It just took the right woman to kindle this desire in you. I went through this when I was seventeen. I was never in love with anyone like you are with Aethelswith, but I was a mad man for women. I would stick it in anyone who let me. Even some who wouldn't."

"But the images, Hvitserk. They are intrusive. I cannot concentrate and I must be sharp. I am King."

"Okay, okay. Describe these images and I will tell you if they sound normal and what to do." Sitting back in his chair, Hvitserk crossed one leg over the other, ready to council.

Nodding, Ivar looked focussed.

"I just have to close my eyes and I see flashes of her sweet mouth or her delicate throat, her beautiful tummy. How she kisses me. Gods!" he exclaimed. "I hear her whimpers in my head. The way she calls my name. It kills me. It kills me," he paused to take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "How her round breasts bounce when we are moving together...you know.... vigorously. And her legs. They are so smooth," he growled under his breath, adjusting in his seat. "And what is between them, brother, I would say it rivals Valhalla. It does. It must."

"We are going to need another drink," Hvitserk uttered softly, his eyes round and his mind fixated on Ivar's description.

Snapping to, Hvitserk grabbed the jug of ale on the nearby table, filling their cups roughly. Sitting back down, he gulped half the cup and paused, holding a finger up to indicate he needed another moment. Finishing his drink, he set it down on the armrest of his chair and cleared his throat loudly.

"I see that this is new and not yet totally comfortable. I assure you, Ivar, there is nothing wrong with you. You are not a crazed person. This aspect of your union with Aethelswith is recent and very exciting. Shit, it sounds very exciting. Things will settle though. I assure you. Enjoy these thrilling days with your woman. It may even result in a child."

"Nothing would make me happier," Ivar murmured, looking down at the floor.

"She has a husband...."

"HAD!" Ivar barked, snapping out of his thoughts. "She no longer has a husband. I will be her husband."

"Okay, I understand," Hvitserk said obsequiously. "Is she...ahhh... versed?"

"Not at all. I was essentially her first," Ivar said in a serious tone.

"I see. So, you are learning and experimenting with what you like? Yes?"

"In a way," Ivar answered, clearly uncertain.

Stifling a smile, the image of Ivar as a young boy flashed through Hvitserk's mind. Long before the family crumbled and Ivar hardened. This conversation, for certain, would be held in his heart for the rest of his life.

"Two nights ago," Ivar continued, "Aethelswith came to bed and she was smiling and playing coy. She had spent the afternoon with that slave friend of hers picking berries. She said that this thrall had told her about things to try. She kissed me something fierce that night. Smacked my hands away anytime I tried to grab her. Slid her mouth and tongue down my chest, biting my nipples and then went down....further down." Ivar's eyes widened. "She took me in her mouth, brother!" he exasperated, his eyes bright with excitement. "I have heard the men talk of such things but to experience it was something else. I felt touched by the Gods." Breathing in deeply, he slowly exhaled again. "She had me worked up and as I was finishing in her mouth, she pulled my balls and it felt like a snap of lightning shot down my cock. Then, she drank my seed!" Ivar leaned back in his chair looking flushed and satisfied from reliving the experience in his mind.

"Well," Hvitserk looked stunned, his brows lifted. "That sounds..." he rubbed his hand over his face and back up and over his tied hair, "I think ....you need to marry this girl."

"I will make her my queen. I already call her my wife but it must be official. Very soon," he answered in a stern voice. But..." he hesitated. "Okay, here is my next question," he sat forward in his chair. "How do I make it last..."

"Longer?" Hvitserk cut in.

Ivar nodded.

"That will come with practice and slowing down at the right times. Changing positions. Do you want to know my trick?"

Nodding, Ivar titled forward and Hvitserk looked around in a dramatic way, ensuring no one was privy to their conversation.

"Just as I am about to spill and I start to feel that twitch," he paused to exaggerate the suspense, "I picture your face, Ivar."

"Fuck off!" Ivar yelled breaking into a genuine laugh.

Chuckling, Hvitserk's laugh simmered into a sweet smile. "Ivar, here is a question for you? Who is Aethelswith's slave friend?"

.

 @yanii-the-hippie @youbloodymadgenius @lol-haha-joke @fangirl-nonsense @ceridwenofwales @medievalfangirl @naaladareia @flowers-in-your-hayr @equalstrashflavoredtrash @geekandbooknerd @readsalot73 @tephi101 @jaydelesley4 @whenimaunicorn @silly-bullshit-collector

 MASTERLIST

[thewayofthetrashcompactor]

Rating: M Tags: Lingerie, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Retail, Corsetry Chapter: 1/4 Summary: Rey's part-time job at Holdo's lingerie botique is going surprisingly well. She may not be an expert, but Poe's there to sweet-talk the customers, and it helps pay her bills. But one particular tall, dark-haired customer catches her eye while he's looking at corsets, and she's about to learn a whole new meaning of customer service.

This chapter was initially inspired by @aionimica‘s gorgeous art of Kylo in a corset. It's a gem of the fandom, cannot recommend enough.

This was originally written for @lingeriewarsweek last year, finally getting it onto ao3!

read on ao3

Rey sighs as she leans over on the sale counter. Mondays are always slow at the boutique, today especially so. Just a handful of people have come in since she'd started her shift after finishing her morning classes, and most of those only stayed to browse the racks of expensive lingerie. Now, the mall is nearly closing. Only a couple customers still linger: a giggly pair of girls, who’ll probably end up with a skimpy set of panties and a bra for one of them, and a tall, broad man with dark hair who'd been at the back looking through corsets, likely for his girlfriend. Lucky girl. She'd heard Poe offer to help him earlier, but he'd declined quickly.

She glances at the clock. Fifteen more minutes. The mall's usual announcement echoes outside, and the girls come up with their purchase. A strappy black set, a little more daring and expensive than she'd expected, likely due to her coworker’s influence. She's yet to see a customer that Poe can't charm. The owner, Amilyn, with her quiet poise and knowing eyes, is the only one she's witnessed his efforts fall flat on; even Rey has found herself blushing at his flirting before. She checks the girls out with a cheery smile, then waits to see if the man will emerge. She checks the clock again. Ten minutes. Leaving the register for a bit, she heads back to check on him.

The back half of the store is surprisingly empty, even of Poe, who's likely off getting a head start on his closing tasks. She frowns and goes to check the fitting rooms. The room at the end is closed, and she walks over to knock at the door.

“Sir? The mall is closing in five minutes -- “

She's not sure if the door wasn't fastened or her knock was enough to jar the bar out of position, but the door swings open in front of her, and her jaw drops.

Working at a lingerie store, she's long ceased to be bothered by people's bodies. People of all sizes and shapes come through the store, and even if Amilyn, Paige, and Poe do most of the fitting help, she's still seen enough to make her used to the sight of strangers in next to nothing, especially with the more risque options they offer. She's been up close and personal with plenty of attractive men and women (even if that luck doesn't extend to her dating life). This man, however, takes her breath away.

He's tall, almost a head taller than her, which is no mean feat in her experience, and his outfit only emphasizes that, along with the sheer breadth of him. He'd been dressed in a fitted suit when he came in, clearly expensive and for the kind of job that could afford it. He still wears most of it now, shiny leather shoes, which she now realizes are boots, going up past his ankles and clinging to muscular calves. Dark, tight slacks, and a matching jacket hanging off wide shoulders, even though the shirt underneath has been removed. She can see clearly now that he hadn't been looking for something for a girlfriend or other partner, at least not directly. He has on a dark corset, leather stretched tight around his chest, the lines of the boning leading her eyes from where the garment hugs his hips and waist, the vee at the bottom accenting the seam of his pants, up the long stretch of his body, to where his brown, peaked nipples are just visible, teasing over the edge of the corset. His built pectorals are left bare. Rey swallows thickly. By the time her gaze reaches his face, framed by ridiculously lush black waves, bright red stains his cheeks, and she feels herself flushing in response.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean…” She draws herself up and makes a valiant attempt at professionalism. “Do you need any help?” That suggestion immediately brings thoughts of her peeling him out of the corset, running her hands over his pale skin as its freed from the clinging material, and her blush grows in intensity. “I mean-”

“I'll be out in a moment?” he says in a slightly strangled tone.

She nods and looks down at her feet. “Great. Great! I'll be at the counter to check you out.”

Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she returns to her post. She spends the time waiting for him looking out into the mall, trying not to think too much about him taking the corset off, and willing her blush to go down.

He emerges from the fitting rooms a short while later, shirt regrettably back on, corset tucked under his arm. His cheeks are still pink, and when he leans over to put the corset on the counter, she sees the tips of his ears match where they peak from his beautiful hair.

“Will this be all?” she asks, sticking to the comfort of the script.

He raises an eyebrow at her. She flushes and scans the tag, then clears her throat. “I'm sorry about earlier; I didn't mean to barge in like that. You, um. This suits you really well. Good choice.” She knows she's turning red again, and he is too.

“Um. Thanks.”

“Your partner is very lucky,” she adds, cursing herself even as she says it.

“Oh, um, no. Just for me. Just to… enjoy it.”

She nods and tries to suppress the thrill in her chest at that information as she wraps the corset in tissue and puts in a bag. She gives him his total and he scans his card.

“I usually do this online,” he says, maybe trying to explain his discomfort. “But the fit…”

She nods understandingly. “That's always hard.” Then, with a sudden stroke of inspiration, “This looks like it fit… really well, we could order in other things in your size if you wanted to try them on here? You could get a better variety, and you can make sure they work for you before you commit.”

He looks at her in surprise and then nods slowly. “That would be -- nice. Thank you…?”

“Rey,” she says quickly. “Is there anything you'd like to order now, Mr. …?”

“Ben. Just Ben." He looks back at the store. “I didn't really think about that. Was kind of surprised you had anything to fit me, to be honest.” He considers for a moment. “Maybe something lighter?” He looks down at himself. “Most of my stuff is darker, could probably use some variety.” There's a hint of self depreciation in his voice. She nods, already pulling up the catalogue.

“Anything in particular you're looking for? Corsets, underwear, harnesses?”

He shifts on his feet, not quite meeting her eyes. “Um, any of those really. If you have anything you'd recommend?”

Her eyes grow wide. She can think of plenty of things she'd like to see him in. And he's letting her choose? “I can put together a small selection for you to see what you'd like?” she suggests.

“That'd be great,” he says, and she bites her lip, already imagining the possibilities.

“Okay, I'll put that together for you,” she says breathlessly. “It'll take a week or so for the order to get in, would you like to leave your number and I--we will call you when it's here?”

He pulls out a business card and hands it to her. “Cell, please.” She takes the card and adds the note, then adds his name when she notices the one on the card is “Kylo Ren".

“Thank you so much… Ben.”

He flashes a quick, odd sort of smile. “Thank you, Rey. I, er, look forward to hearing from you.” He finally takes the bag she's passed over to him and turns to leave, but not without a last backward glance. She knows she's smiling like an idiot, but she can't much care as Ben gives her that smiling press of his lips over his shoulder as he leaves. Even if this is probably not exactly how Amilyn would recommend getting new customers.

When he's out of sight, Rey turns back to the computer. She's got work to do.

[dailybestiary]

Patch Has Issues: Dungeon #2

Issue: Dungeon #2

Date: November/December 1986 (Pretty sure my Christmas haul that year was full of dope toys from The Transformers movie/show.)

The Cover:

(Use of cover for review purposes only and should not be taken as a challenge to status. Credit and copyright remain with their respective holders.)

Ah, Clyde Caldwell. He, Larry Elmore, Jeff Easley, and last issue’s Keith Parkinson were the mainstays of TSR’s amazing stable of artists. I have a soft spot for Caldwell. He did the covers for the D&D Gazetteer series, which means his work emblazoned some of my absolute favorite books from my middle school years. (At the time I had the whole series except the two island books, GAZ 4 & GAZ 9 (which I’ve since collected), plus the Dawn of the Emperors box set. My favorites, for the record, were GAZ 3, 5, 10, and 13. I...may like elves...a little too much.) And even as I sit here, other covers demand to be named. The very first Dragonlance adventure, the iconic Dragons of Despair? The Finder’s Stone trilogy? The first Ravenloft box? Dragon #147? Yep, he did those covers too. He was amazing.

But hoo-boy, we also have to talk about the not-amazing parts. Once Caldwell settled on a way of doing things, that’s how he did them. Points for consistency, but man, he had tropes. Even his tropes had tropes. He had a way of painting dragon’s wings. He had a way of painting swords and boots. He had a way of painting jewelry, and belts and coins—ovals upon ovals upon ovals.

And his way of painting women was with as few clothes as possible. Everything I said about Parkinson last entry? Yeah, that goes double for Caldwell. He never paints pants when a thong will do. His take on the reserved and regal Goldmoon—thighs as long as a dwarf and bronzed buttcheeks exposed—reportedly left Margaret Weis in tears. Magic-users (God, I hate that term) famously couldn’t use armor in D&D and AD&D, but Caldwell’s sorceresses pretty much stick to gauze just to be safe. And the Finder’s Stone trilogy I mentioned above? Yeah, the authors of Azure Bonds took one look at Caldwell’s cover art and literally had to come up with in-text reasons why the heroine Alias—one of the most surly woman sellswords in existence—would wear armor with a Caldwell boob hole.

Don’t get me wrong, I love cheesecake as much as the next dude. (Actually that’s not true; I came up in the grunge ’90s—our version of cheesecake was an Olympia brunette in three layers of thrift store sweaters reading Sandman while eating a cheesecake. Hell, that’s still my jam.) But context matters. The sorceress from “White Magic,” Dragon #147’s cover, may barely be wearing a negligee, but she’s also in the seat of her power and probably magically warded to the hilt—she can wear whatever she damn wants; it’s her tower. So no complaints there. But this cover’s pirate queen Porky Piggin’ it seems like an unwise choice. (The friction burns alone from clambering around the rigging…)

It’s clear from reading The Art of the Dragonlance Saga that TSR was trying to turn the ship around when it came to portrayals of women in fantasy, however slowly. And in Caldwell’s defense and to his credit, he definitely delivered women with agency—in nearly every image, they are nearly always doing something active and essential. They just tend to be doing it half-dressed.

Which is all a way of saying I dig this cover—the explosion, the churning sea (even if it does more look like snow drifts than waves), the sailors all running to the rail to look—but yeah, that pirate captain needs to put on some damn pants.

The Adventures: Before we get started, I have to note that though we’re only an issue in, already the magazine feels more noticeably like the work of editor Roger Moore. This is 100% a guess, but it really feels to me like Dungeon #1 was made of adventures that the Dragon office already had laying around, whereas Dungeon #2 was composed of adventures that Roger Moore and the new Dungeon team had more of a hand in sifting through. (He also has an assistant editor this time in Robin Jenkins, which had to have helped.) Even the cartography looks better. Again, I have zero confirmation of this, but the feeling is strong.

“The Titan’s Dream” by W. Todo Todorsky, AD&D, Levels 5–9

PCs visiting an oracle accidentally walk right into a titan’s dream and must solve some conundrums to escape. What an awesome concept this is! (Spoilers for “Best Concept” section below.) It’s a shame I don’t like this more.

First of all, dreamworld adventures are really hard to do well. And for them to work, there usually need to be real stakes—and not just “If you die in the dream, you die in real life!”—and/or a real connection to the PCs in your campaign. The latter, especially, is really hard to pull off in a published adventure; typically it’s only achieved through tactics that critics deride as railroading. (For instance, @wesschneider’s excellent In Search of Sanity does a great job of connecting the characters to their dream adventures...but it does that by a) forging the connection at 1st level, and b) pretty strongly dictating how the adventure begins and how the characters are affiliated. It works, but that’s high-wire-act adventure writing.)

Being a magazine adventure, “The Titan’s Dream” doesn’t have that luxury—it’s got to be for a general audience and work for most campaigns. That unfortunately means the default “Why” of the adventure—a lord with a child, a wedding, and an alliance at stake hires the PCs to chat with a wise titan—is little more than that: a default.

On top of that...I cannot get excited about anything Greek mythology-related. To me, just the fact I’m seeing it is a red flag.

Look, Greek mythology is why I got into this hobby. Hell, it’s why I got into fiction, period. (For some reason I somehow decided I had no use for fiction books targeted to my age, with the exception of Beverly Cleary. Then in 4th(?) grade, I got a copy of Alice Low’s Greek Gods and Heroes, and the rest is history.) But Greek mythology is often the only mythology anyone knows. When people think polytheism, that’s where most people’s minds go. Which is why, if you ever played D&D in the ’80s, I pretty much guarantee your first deity was from that pantheon. (In my first game, my first-level cleric pretty much met Ares and got bitch-slapped by him, because that’s what 4th-grade DMs do.)

So to me, putting Greek deities or titans in your adventure is the equivalent of putting dudes riding sandworms into your desert adventures—you can do it, but you better blow me away, because that is ground so well trod it’s mud. And this one doesn’t do the job.

The format is three dreams, each with five scenes. Parties will move randomly—a mechanic meant to represent dream logic (or lack thereof)—through these scenes, until all the scenes from one dream have been resolved. This is actually kind of fascinating, and I wonder how it would play at the table—I have a feeling observant players will dig it, but others may find the mechanism’s charm wears off quickly, especially if they have difficulty solving the scenes or get frustrated with the achronicity of events. I also like that every scene has a number of possible resolutions, so the PCs aren’t locked into achieving a single specific objective like they were stuck in a computer game.

But...I can’t shake the feeling of weak planning and execution (or even laziness?) that stayed with me throughout the adventure. Like, okay, the first adventure is a cyclops encounter out of the Odyssey. Cool! But then...why does the Titan follow it up with pseudo-Norse/Arthurian encounter? Did the Odyssey not hold the author’s attention? (Nor the Iliad, the Aeneid, or Metamorphosis? Really?) And then why is the third dream “drawn from the realm of pure fairy tale”? Like, were you out of pantheons? Horus didn’t return your calls? Or be more specific—why not German fairy tales, or Danish, or French Court, or Elizabethan? It feels like a class project where one group was on point, one group got the assignment a little wrong, and one didn’t even try.

Again, it’s not even that this adventure is bad—I honestly can’t tell if it is or not; I’m sure a lot of its success is determined at the table. And I could totally see throwing this at a party if I was out of inspiration that week or we needed a low-stakes breather before our next big arc. But the instant I think about it for more than a second, it all falls apart for me.

Have any of you tried this one? Let me know what you thought. And for a similar exploration into dream logic/fairy tale scenarios, I recommend Crystal Frasier’s The Harrowing for Pathfinder.

“In The Dwarven King’s Court” by Willie Walsh, AD&D, Levels 3–5

Willie Walsh is a name we’re going to see a lot more in issues to come—he’s a legendarily prolific Dungeon contributor, delivering quality, typically low-level, and often light-hearted or humorous adventurers issue after issue after issue. His first entry is a mystery with a time limit: A dwarf king is supposed to make a gift of a ceremonial sword to seal a treaty, but the sword has vanished. Brought to the king’s court courtesy of a dream, adventurers must find the sword and the surprising identity of the culprit before the rival power’s delegation arrives.

At first I was going to ding this adventure for its “What, even more dreams this issue?” hook...but here’s the thing with Walsh—never judge his modules until you reach the final page. Nearly every time I’m tempted to dismiss one of his sillier or more random adventure elements, it turns out that it makes sense and works just fine. In this case, the cause of the dream is haunt connected to the mystery, and I feel dumb for being all judgy.

So anyway, the PCs are given leave to search for the stolen object and the thief, but of course it turns out there is a whole lot of light-fingeredness going around. As Bryce (see below) puts it, “It’s like a Poirot mystery: everyone has something to hide.” This castle has as much upstairs-downstairs drama as any British farce, with nearly every NPC having either a fun personality and/or a fun secret (and with the major players illustrated by some equally fun portraits) that should make them memorable friends and foils for PCs to interact with. Not to mention the actual culprit is definitely a twist that will be hard explaining to the king...

GMs should be ready to adjust on the fly, though—a) it’s a lot of characters to juggle, and b) since the PCs are 3rd–5th level, the right spells or some lucky secret door searches could prematurely end the adventure as written. You may want to have some last-minute showdowns, betrayals, or other political intrigue outlined and in your back pocket if what’s on the page resolves too quickly.

Overall though, I’m a big fan of this adventure, and look forward to the rest of Walsh’s output. Also, given the dwarven focus and the geography of the land, this adventure could be a very nice sequel to last issue’s “Assault on Eddistone Point.”

“Caermor” by Nigel D. Findley, AD&D, Levels 2–4

Look at this author’s list of writing credits! Findley was amazingly prolific, and his work was pretty high-quality across the board, as far as I know. I particularly loved the original Draconomicon, one of the first and only 2e AD&D books I ever bought as a kid. I also loved his “Ecology of the Gibbering Mouther” from the excellent Dragon #160, and some of his Spelljammer supplements are currently sitting upstairs in my to-read pile, recently purchased but as yet shamefully untouched.

Now look at his age at the time of his death. Life is not always fair or kind.

(Speaking of unkind, man is the bio in this issue unfortunate in retrospect: “[H]e write for DRAGON® Magazine, enjoys windsurfing, plays in a jazz band, and manages a computer software company in the little time he has left.” As Archer would say, “Phrasing!”)

Anyway, this adventure is simple: An otherworldly force has been murdering the locals. The locals have pinned the blame on a handsome bard from out of town, and their own prejudices and general obstinacy are sure to get in the way of the investigation—that is, if the true culprits, some devil-worshipping culprits and and an abishai devil, don’t get in the way first.

All in all, this is a tight, well-written adventure, so I don’t have much to say about it, other than that if you like the idea of sending your party to help out some young lovers and save some faux-Scots/Yorkshiremen too stubborn to save themselves (and maybe slip in a valuable lesson about prejudice and xenophobia as well), this is the adventure for you.

One thing that does jump out to a contemporary reader, though, is the comically overpowered nature of the baddie pulling the strings in this adventure: Baalphegor, Princess of Hell (emphasis mine). Overpowered, you-won’t-really-fight-this-NPC happens with a lot of low-level adventures, when the writers want a story more epic than characters at the table can handle or are trying to plot the seeds for future evils. But still, any princess of Hell would already be a bit much...but an 18-Hit Dice, “supra-genius”, the Princess of Hell? Like, what the f—er, I mean, Hell?

If you use the adventure as written, the only way to have Baalphegor’s presence make sense is to eventually reveal that the area is an epicenter of some major badness. (Maybe that explains the lost nation of evil dwarves in the adventure background.) For a good model on how to seed early adventures in this matter, Dungeon’s Age of Worms Adventure Path and Pathfinder Adventure Path’s Rise of the Runelords AP, both from Paizo, are exemplars of small-town disturbances that eventually have world-shaking implications.

It’s also fascinating in retrospect to note Ed Greenwood’s massive impact in the hobby. Any article that appears in Dragon has the sheen of being at least semi-official, but it’s clear that Greenwood’s content was a cut above even that. In this case, an NPC from a three-year-old article of his is not just treated as canon, but also supplies the mastermind behind the adventure! It’s no surprise that in the following year his home campaign, the Forgotten Realms, would soon become AD&D’s newest and then its default setting.

Two final thoughts: 1) There’s some fascinating anti-dwarf prejudice in this article. Nearly every mention of dwarves paints them as exceptionally greedy and/or villains. And 2) how did one even begin to balance adventures in those days? This adventure is for “4–8 characters of 2nd–4th level.” There are a lot of difference at the extreme ends of those power scales…

“The Keep at Koralgesh,” by Robert Giacomozzi & Jonathan Simmons, D&D, Levels 1–3

One of the problems of BECMI D&D being known as “basic D&D” is that writers often assumed the players to be basic (that is, younger/new) as well. Which probably accounts for some of the early suggestions to the DM we get at the beginning of this adventure—like some pretty patronizing advice along the lines of not immediately announcing to PCs what the pluses are on their magical swords.

Fortunately, after that the article settles down and gives us Dungeon’s first real D&D adventure. In fact, not just real, but massive: 20 full pages of content—nearly half the issue! It’s a fully fledged dungeon crawl that has the PCs taking advantage of the summer solstice to open a shrine door that will lead them inside a long-ruined keep said to hold great treasure.

Now, I imagine in the coming installments it’s going to seem to many of you like I’m grading D&D adventures on a curve, because of my love for the system and the Known World/Mystara. That’s a fair accusation, but a better way to consider it is that I’m reviewing D&D adventures for what they are—adventures from a separate system, with a more limited rules system and palette of options than AD&D. You don’t go to a performance of Balinese shadow puppetry and compare it against Andrew Lloyd Webber; you look at it for what it achieves in its own medium. Since they appear side-by-side in the same magazine, comparison is going to be inevitable, but that’s with the understanding that AD&D was the kid coloring with the 64-crayon box of Crayola, while D&D was getting by with just eight.

On its own terms then, “The Keep of Korgalesh” is a decent, if not superlative, success. I love that it’s practically module-length and that we get three complete levels—a far cry from the previous issue’s side-trek-at-best, “The Elven Home.” We also get two new monsters, which absolutely fills my inner BECMI D&D player with glee. And I like that what starts as a dungeon crawl/fetch quest evolves into a “kill the big bad thing” and “find out what really happened to this city.”

There are issues, though. If the whole city was destroyed, getting to see some of it besides the keep would have been nice. Some of the ecology for the dungeon inhabitants is questionable. There pretty much wasn’t a single pool or fountain in this era of D&D adventure design that wasn’t magical, and this adventure was no exception. One of the new monster’s names makes no sense except that “tyranna” and “abyss” are cool words (I mean, I guess you could read that as “tyrant of the depths,” but still…) And there are painfully obvious borrowings from other works, especially Tolkien—a door that only opens at solstice, a lake monster, an orc with a split personality that is clearly a Gollum homage, etc.

What this adventure really needs is stakes—just something to give it a bit more oomph beyond the dungeon crawl. (Finding a blacksmith’s lost hammer is the hook offered in the adventure but it’s pretty flimsy.) Perhaps the PCs are some of Kor’s last worshippers, and clearing out the dangers here and resanctifying his temple is one of their first steps toward returning him to prominence. Maybe the PCs’ grandparents were involved in the city’s demise and restoring Koralgesh will restore the families’ honor. Or you could keep it simple and have a band of pirates or a rival adventuring group also trying to clean out the keep, turning it into a race (with the tyrannabyss causing the scales of fate to wobble at appropriately cinematic moments).

So the final analysis is this is a decent dungeon crawl upon which you can build a good adventure. The real reward of this module isn’t treasure; it’s finding out just what happened to Koralgesh. But for that to matter, it needs to tie into the PCs’ pasts, futures, or both.

BONUS CONTENT FOR KNOWN WORLD/MYSTARA NERDS: Kor is almost certainly a local name for the sun god Ixion. The chaotic deity Tram is probably a local version of Alphaks, though Atzanteotl is another strong candidate, especially since deceit was key to the pirates’ success. Koralgesh could be located somewhere on the Isle of Dawn, the northern coast of Davania, or an Ierendi/Minrothad Isle that those nations haven’t made it a priority to rebuild.

Best Read: “Caermor.” Nigel D. Findley was a pro.

Best Adventure I Could Actually Run with Minimal Prep: “The Keep at Koralgesh,” as a well-written, straight-ahead dungeon crawl. Every other adventure here relies on a pretty strong handle of very mobile NPCs and their motivations, or a Titan’s dream mechanics.

Best Concept: “The Titan’s Dream,” as noted above. It’s a great idea very worth exploring, even if I wasn’t about the execution we got in this case.

Best Monster: This was actually a monster-light issue. Despite some awesome art for the tyrannabyss, I have to go with the epadrazzil, a scaly ape from a two-dimensional plane of existence that has to be summoned via a painting. All of those details are just so wonderfully and weirdly specific it has to win. (Extra points for anyone who noticed the thoul—a classic D&D monster (though it did make its way into AD&D’s Mystara setting) born from a typo.)

Best NPC: Since this is a role-playing-heavy issue, there are a bunch of contenders, and the final verdict will go to whoever your party sparks to at the table. Obviously King Baradon the Wise should get the nod for [spoiler-y reasons], but I also really like the opportunity the executioner Tarfa offers, thanks to his incriminating goblet and how it might bring the PCs to the attention of a far-off assassin’s guild at just the right level.

Best Map: All together the maps from “The Keep at Koralgesh” form an extremely appealing whole. But for best single map I have to go for the palace of Mount Diadem—that is a bangin’ dwarven demesne.

Best Thing Worth Stealing: Jim Holloway’s illustrations of dwarves. Good dwarf, gnome, and halfling art is hard to find, and even the good stuff often leans stereotypical. While Holloway’s art is often humorous—I have a feeling he and Roger Moore jibed really well, though that’s totally a guess based purely on what assignments he got handed—his dwarves, especially in this issue, are fresh, specific, and unique. You could identify them by their silhouettes alone—always the sign of good character art. If you need an image of a dwarf NPC to show the players, “In the Dwarven King’s Court” is a great first stop.

Worst Aged: Female thong pirates on magazine covers. Also using the actual names of actual mental illnesses in game materials.

What Bryce Thinks: “This seems to be a stronger issue than #1, although half of the adventures are … unusual.”

Bryce actually almost likes “The Titan’s Dream,” confirming my loathing of it. He in turn loathes “In the Court of the Dwarven King.” Like me, though, he is pro-”Caermor” and sees potential in “The Keep at Koralgesh.” (Also credit where it’s due: I might have missed the condescension at the start if he hadn’t called it out.)

So, Is It Worth It?: If you’re a Clyde Caldwell fan, this issue might be worth searching out in print. So much of Caldwell’s work from this era was dictated by product needs, cropped and boxed up in ads, or shrunk down to fit on a paperback cover. So to get this cover in full magazine size, with only the masthead tucked up top to get in the way—that could be well worth a few bucks to you.

Also, if you’re BECMI/Rules Cyclopedia-era D&D fan (or know someone who is), again, this one might be worth having in print. “The Keep at Koralgesh” is a legit, proper BECMI D&D adventure, spanning 20 whole pages and with two new monsters to boot. I would have practically have cried if someone had given 7th-grade me this.

Beyond that you can probably just rely on the PDF. But both “Caermor” and “In the Dwarven King’s Court” have strong bones worth putting some modern muscle and skin on.

Random Thoughts:

The Caldwell cover painting was also used for the Blackmoor module DA4 The Duchy of Ten. PS: I’m not trying to tell you what to do or anything, but if you do happen to run across a physical copy of The Duchy of Ten or and of the DA modules, holla at ya boy over here.

Since this is our second issue, we now have a “Letters” column. Turns out Dungeon had been announced in Dragon #111 with a really detailed set of writer’s guidelines; most of the correspondence is questions re: those. In the process of answering, we get some surprisingly frank talk about payment. The $900 for a cover seemed low until I converted it to 2018 dollars, and ~$2,000 does seem right to my ignorant eye. I then made the mistake of converting my current salary to 1986 dollars and felt a lot worse about myself and what I’ve achieved.

Apologies this took so long to post. I had the issue read by early October and most of this review written with the next week or two after...but then I got involved in dealing with a 4.5 week hospitalization and aftermath...and then a second still-ongoing hospitalization...and even though I only had about four paragraphs left I just couldn’t find time to put a bow on it.

Notable Ads: The gold Immortals Rules box for D&D. (I also still don’t have that one yet, and Christmas is coming. Just saying, guys, if you happen to find one in your attic.) ;-) Also an ad for subscribing to Dungeon itself, starring “my war dinosaur, Boo-Boo.” No, really.

Over in Dragon: Beneath a glorious cover, Roger Moore is the new editor of Dragon #115, three authors (including Vince Garcia, who I like a lot) share credit on a massive six articles about fantasy thieves, a famous article proposing that clerics get the weapons of their deity (people were still talking about it in the “Forum” column when I was buying my first issues two years later), and a look at harps from the Forgotten Realms (notable because behind the scenes Ed Greenwood’s home setting was being developed for the AD&D game for launch in 1987.) A photographic cover and a 3-D sailing ship are served up in Dragon #116, along with maritime adventures, more Ed Greenwood (rogue stones), and articles for ELFQUEST, Marvel Super Heroes (Crossfire’s gang), and FASA’s Dr. Who game (looking at all six(!) doctors). (Incidentally, I had an Irish babysitter around this time who first mentioned Dr. Who to me—I wish I’d explored more but I was too young to understand what I’d been offered.)

PS: Yes, I’ve heard about the upcoming Tumblr ban. It is a terrible idea that will affect way too many of my readers. It shouldn’t affect me much (and I have all my monster entries backed up at the original site), but I will keep you posted as I learn more, particularly if I find you, my readers, packing up and going elsewhere.

[mydearestreaderfanfics]

Viral (Pidge x Reader) 2/4 YouTube AU

Warnings: None, I think

Word Count: 2,251

Prompt/Request: None

Summary: Continuation of Livestream Mishaps. After a messy meeting, Pidge and the reader become friends. After a visit from Lance, the reader realizes that their feelings may be more than platonic. Misunderstandings and hilarity ensue.

Author: Mod Alex

Chpt. 1

As promised you led Pidge to a quaint little coffee shop you frequented. The cafe wasn’t particularly well-known and had bookshelves lining several walls on both of the floors. Since the last time you’d been there, they seem to have added a few more plush antique armchairs and couches, all adorned with eclectic throw pillows. You turned to an awestruck Pidge with a smug grin. “You like?” “How have I never been here?” You laughed softly. “Not many people know about this place since it doesn’t look like much from the street. That’s part of the reason I like it so much.” While you loved your fans, sometimes you just wanted to go somewhere where there wasn’t many people and the people who did go there had no idea who you were. “I get what you mean.” “Besides that, they’ve got great coffee. What were you wanting?” She glanced up at the board displaying the menu. “Vienna roast?” Surprise spread across your features, you hadn’t taken her for a dark roast drinker. That surprise was quickly replaced with a smile, somehow it was endearing. “Great!” “Thanks, I’ll go get us a table.” “Sounds good!” When you got to the register, you order both your drinks along with a slice of tiramisu to share with Pidge. You hoped she liked it. “Your total is $8.82. By the way, you and your girlfriend look absolutely adorable together.” You handed the barista your credit card, blushing brightly. “She isn’t- I mean we aren't-” “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I just figured.” “Don’t worry about it.” You smiled sheepishly, glancing back to see where Pidge had sat. Did you two really make a cute couple? Your fans and now the barista seemed to think so. No. You shouldn’t even be thinking that you had just met her after all. “Name?” For a second you were wondering why the barista wanted to know Pidge’s name, then you realized, with a fair deal of embarrassment, that she was asking for your name for the order. “(Y/N).” “Thanks! We’ll call your name so you can pick up your order.”

You walked back to the table, strategically balancing both coffees and the tiramisu on your arms. Taking her coffee, Pidge offered her thanks. “I wasn’t sure if you'd eaten or not. Either way, they have really good tiramisu; I thought you might want to split it?” She nods. “Sure that sounds good.” You make idle chat over coffee, swapping editing tips and talking about how you started making videos and what you did besides videos. Eventually, the conversation shifted to your personal lives. “Yeah, Lance and I are actually friends, we met back in high school. A lot of people think we’ve dated, but he just came from a really affectionate household, besides he’s like my brother.” You laugh, remembering the weekends spent with Lance’s large family. “That’s the same way it is with Hunk and me. It’s crazy to think our friends have been friends and never bothered to introduce us.” “I know right? Although I won’t lie, it does feel like I’ve known you forever.” “I was thinking the same thing actually.” A baby grandfather clock rang from within the cafe interrupting your conversation. “Is it already that late?! I am so sorry, I have to go.” “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry too, I must’ve lost track of time. Let me walk you to your car?” “Scooter actually, but sure.”

When you got home that night, you crawled into bed, the events of the day going through your mind like a slideshow. Had the most dramatic series of events really taken place within the past 48 hours? It felt hard to believe. You felt restless and giddy. Despite how terrible this morning had been, you were happy to have met Pidge. Curiosity and restlessness spurred you to grab your phone and see what exactly the content of PidgeonPlays was. The large 6:00 flashed in fluorescent blue as your alarm went off. You barely heard it over your uncontained laugh. Oh no. You really hadn’t meant to binge watch. You tried to rationalize it. Her videos were lengthy and you obviously had to finish the series once you started it. You couldn’t just watch as she began playing Papo & Yo and not watch to see the conclusion. She was witty, clever, and had a knack for incorporating dry humor into her videos. You couldn’t wait to see her newest upload. The very one that she had left your coffee date- er coffee hangout for. You sighed, you couldn’t go back to sleep now, you had promised you’d help Lance with a video today. Might as well get ready. You put on a pot of coffee before hopping in the shower with hopes of it waking you up a little. The no sleep was really starting to creep in. By the time you were out of the shower, dressed, and on your second cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang. Only one ridiculous friend of yours was known to do this. Lance. “It’s open!” Lance strode into your kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I figured you were sleeping still.” “Hey! That happened one time and it was only because you had me go to a con with you and then an after-party afterward. It’s your fault if you think about it.” You stuck your tongue out childishly making Lance laugh. “Fine, I guess not all of us are blessed with the grace to be an early riser like me.” You nearly spit out your coffee from laughing. “Grace? You? Sure Lancy-pants. Whatever you gotta tell yourself.” He threw a piece of his toast (stolen from your pantry might you add) at you before pulling your laptop up. He clicked open the internet, your laptop directing him to YouTube: your homepage. “Oh-ho-ho. What do we have here?” “What are you going on about?” “Maybe the fans knew more than you wanted to let on.” “Lance, seriously, stop being cryptic, what are you talking about?” He turned the computer so the screen was facing you. Much to your embarrassment, PidgeonPlays filled up more than half of your recommended videos. “It’s not like that, it’s just um. Well, you see, she um, I mean we- She’s just a really good youtuber and since we met I just wanted to see what her channel was about. Hah, yeah.” Lance gave you an ‘I-don't-believe-you’ look. “You wouldn’t have this recommends if you were just checking her channel out.” He did finger quotations for emphasis. You went red with chagrin. “She’s funny, okay? We just met anyway.” He laughed again, though, he thankfully decided to drop the topic in favor of starting to record.

“Okay, so you have to play the catty instructor. She was super mean, so do your best Lotor impression.” “You got it, boss.” You flipped your hair and did your best sneer making Lance burst into a fit of giggles. “Perfect! Just like that.” Two hours later, you had finally filmed all the material needed for Lance’s ‘How I Became an Aerial Silk Performer’ skit video. There was plenty of editing to be done still, and you figured he would likely post the bloopers in a separate video in a few days. “Alright, so now you can get out of my house right?” You both knew you were joking. “I thought you enjoyed having me over, I’m hurt, (Y/N).” “Oh shush, I guess you can stay.” Your phone pinged. It was a text from an unknown number. Hesitantly you opened up the message.

Unknown Number Hey, this is Pidge. I got your number from Lance. I hear you watched my videos. [emoji of Pidge laughing smugly]

You What? Nope, never seen your videos before. Never. Not one

Pidge If you say so. [emoji of Pidge winking]

That’s it, Lance was a deadman. “Lance! You told Pidge I binged her videos?!” The guilty party lifted his hands in surrender. “She thought it was sweet. Here look.” He passed his phone to you. The messages in question were all there, as he had said.

Lance hey! #5

Pidge What do you want Lance?

Lance you know (y/n), right? she likes your videos she says it’s for research but i don’t buy it

Pidge Really?

Lance have i ever lied to you before?

Pidge Yes. I just messaged her. You were telling the truth?

Lance i told you [exaggerated frown emoji]

Pidge That’s kind of sweet. Did they like the videos?

Lance [smug emoji x3]

Pidge Nevermind!

You handed the phone back to Lance, a slight blush dusting over your features. “You suck.” “Aww, you’re blushing.” “Shush or I’ll tell Allura that you’re basically in love with her.” “You wouldn’t dare.” You gave him a pointed look and he frowned. “Fine. Blackmailing is not a good look on you just so you know.” You shrugged. “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” “If you two do get together, I will be expecting a thank you.” “I said shush!” Your blush had worsened considerably.

A week had gone by since then and while you still didn’t appreciate Lance interfering like that, you were thankful to have Pidge’s number. You two had been talking every day since then. Mostly about nothing too particularly important.

Pidge Hey!

You Oh hey

Pidge I have some bad news

You Oh no! What happened? Are you okay?

Pidge Just take a look for yourself [link to tumblr page]

Worried, you clicked on the link. At first, you felt relieved, it wasn’t a picture of Pidge’s leg in a cast or any other horrible scenario your brain had conjured up. Instead, it was a picture of you and Pidge at the coffee shop from the other day. You weren’t sure why the image had distressed Pidge until you saw the caption. ‘Looks like PidgeonPlays and OneUpGames are closer than they want us to think ;)’ Oh no, indeed. Why couldn’t you just live in peace? Clicking back to your messages, you typed a hasty response.

You Oh no

Pidge I know! They just don’t quit, do they?

You I’m sorry This is all my fault

Pidge No. You didn't’ set this up. I just don’t know what to do.

You I don’t know

Pidge’s text bubble popped up and went away a handful of times, effectively putting you on the brink of an anxiety attack. Finally, her message popped up.

Pidge What if we did a collab?

You You think that would help? Wouldn’t it just make them assume worse than they are now???

Pidge Well yes. But not if we do this right. It should be a four player game. And the commentary would explain everything better.

You Can’t get worse than it already is, I guess

You and Pidge got Lance and Hunk to join you. While their channel’s had nothing to do with gaming, they did enjoy playing games and were more than willing to help you both out. You sent out a tweet letting people know that you were doing a collab and would be going live on YouNow in a couple of minutes. The four of you were getting hooked up to the streaming platform while waiting for the time you posted to roll around. You really hoped this would work.

“What’s up multiplayers?! (Y/N) here with some special guests.” “Hey! Hey! LanceALot here!” “Hi, guys. I’m here too!” “It’s me again, rovers.” “Now that the guests have introduced themselves, let’s play.” Between scrambling through a digital kitchen, the four of you banted. “Pidge, you’re burning the burger!” “It’s not my fault, we were supposed to trade stations like two minutes ago, Lance.” “Uh, hey guys. The kitchen is on fire…” “Hold on, I have the fire extinguisher. Move, move, move!” You ended the round with two stars. “Before we keep going, let’s check out the audience’s messages.

FirstMultiplayer: asdfghjfddusb this is the collab of my dreams!!! roundtableknight: can you guys turn the music down we can’t hear you talking SinnamonRoll: I didn’t know you played games, Hunk :O Katie Kate: did you guys see the picture on tumblr? shhhh753: Yes. :( My poor OneUpLanceALot shipper heart is broken. PidgeonGamesfangirl: I SAW IT!! i’M THRIVING!!

You turned down the volume of the music as requested and read the messages out loud. “Wow, guys. We aren’t dating, (y/n) just bought me coffee to apologize for the misunderstanding.” “Haha yeah. Because some of you can’t seem to drop it. Pidge is a great person, but we are just friends. I promise. And to answer some of you, no Lance and I am not dating either. I am a single pringle for the time being, okay.” Hunk laughed at your expression. “We have time for one more round before we have to go. Let’s do a super difficult one,” Lance interjected before you could read any more comments. “SOunds good! Let’s do this!” You failed miserably and had a few good laughs before finally ending the stream.

That night after the stream, you looked through the comments. Several fans were disappointed while others held onto the hopes of you secretly dating Pidge. You sighed. Their persistence was not making your growing feelings for Pidge any easier to bury away. She wanted to be friends. That's it. You should want the same, right? But no, your stupid heart had to go and fall for the damn mystery girl.

[still-we-go-pumpkins]

An amazing fan tribute to Weiki. Unique facts compilation 👌🎃

I've just found the post on DeviantArt. As great Weiki fan also, I can confirm that he's really that marvelous just as the author describes him. This will make you feel warm and will set smile on your face as well as you will check Helloween vids/lives while exploring this facts. So, here we go.

Further credits : SamWeiki

100 Reasons I love Michael Weikath

Possible – scratch that, definite – Fangirling ahead (I tried to keep it to a minimum and I probably failed)

1. He has the most gorgeous blue eyes. [right off, I told you – Fangirling]

2. The songs he writes are so unique and AMAZING. Most of them mean quite a lot to me, as well. I’ve always been drawn to them. They just have a certain special quality to them that I love.

3. He wrote “Keeper of the Seven Keys” for cryin’ out loud!

4. His “thanks” section in the Unarmed booklet.

5. He’d pick Judas Priest over Iron Maiden in an instant.

6. The way he sometimes answers questions. For instance, he was asked about what fans could expect from The Dark Ride and his response was: “Well....hmmmm you can expect that it will be standing in stores and it’s very likely you can buy it when you find it there! hahahahahaha apart from that I don’t know if it’s going to say anything but you can go there and buy it, listen to it, and use it, because it’s a CD and it usually makes a lot of sound if you put it into a CD player......but probably doesn't work if you put it into a toaster.....hahahahahaha.”

7. If he wasn’t a musician, he says his life would be dedicated to cartoons.

8. He dedicated the Hammond version of “Burning Sun” to the great Jon Lord.

9. He’s an artist. His little skull and pumpkin drawing is beautiful.

10. He makes the best faces in concerts.

11. I love watching him in the High Live video, especially during “Steel Tormentor”. [I did not just say that]

12. He made the frog noises at the end of “Nothing to Say”.

13. So many people have blamed him for things over the years, when he did nothing wrong, just because they feel it's easier to blame him. I experience that quite a lot and have for several years, so I understand what it's like but he seems a lot stronger than me about it, as it's very hard for me to get over a lot of that stuff. He's sort of my hero about that because it seems like he hasn't let that really stop him.

14. How he totally told off that Phantom guy. His responses were awesome.

15. A part of “Do You Know What You Are Fighting For” is Deep Purple’s “Stormbringer” backwards. There’s actually a lot of Deep Purple in that song. Makes me love it even more – both songs.

16. He played on Uli Kusch’s cover of “Eyes of the World” from the Rainbow tribute album and he played all the guitar on that song. “Yeah I played on Eyes Of The World. So I did all of the guitar work on it. Uli told me that he did not expect me to have the guitar work as close to the original song as I had it.”

17. The seven pronged star on the cover of 7 Sinners was his idea. And what a damn fine idea it was because it makes a freaking sweet album cover! It was a lot of fun for me to draw, as well.

18. When writing “LAVDATE DOMINVM”, he called upon his old Latin lessons from school and actually got to work with his old Latin teacher on the lyrics. Weiki hadn’t worked with Latin for a bit, so he had to relearn a few things and he even managed to correct something his teacher had written.

19. His response to what animal he would be: “A lion, 'cause I could be lyin' round lazy and have my food brought to me by other people.”

20. Helloween would not be Helloween without him, plus Markus and Andi wouldn’t let him quit in 2000/2001.

21. He drew the logo and original pumpkin.

22. How beautiful the lyrics to “Windmill” are. Example:

"Don't feel alone and depressed

Someone will come, at last

To soothe your storming mind

To keep it away from the evil storms."

23. You can clearly hear the man singing in “White Christmas” and he’s the most fun to listen to.

24. “Introduction” never fails to make me laugh very loudly, especially the lyrics to “Rock n’ Roll All Day”.

25. He likes Spinal Tap.

26. The way he sang “Gorgar will eat you” in the Keeper Legacy interviews.

27. He was asked what his motto in life was and his response was: Be as friendly as it comes; have fun, make money and spend it on charity to help people. ~Sei so freundlich wie es geht; Spaß haben, viel Geld verdienen und es für wohltätige Zwecke ausgeben, um Leuten zu helfen~ (it was originally in German)

28. His black and white outfits in the ‘80s and ‘90s, especially those awesome star-printed pants.

29. The entire story of the Keeper of the Seven Keys and Master of the Rings.

30. The Jacuzzi scene in the Keeper Legacy Road movie.

31. He likes Aphrodite’s Child, Nektar, and Camel. He’s cool.

32. I really don’t think I’ve heard him say anything bad about anyone.

33. The moment when he switched his guitar off and “played” a solo after he was introduced in The Legacy concert.

34. “All right… That’s enough! Now, I want to hear Dani’s drum solo!” *rapid fire – BLAMBLAMBLAM!* The first time I watched the “Smoke On the Water” bit from Hellish Rock, I nearly fell to the floor laughing.

35. About the time Pink Bubbles Go Ape came out, in an interview, Michael Kiske said something about they weren’t Metal, they didn’t do that “Heavy Metal” thing and Weiki says, “I thought we were Heavy Metal”. And Michi completely just stopped talking for a second.

36. The way Weiki messed around with Michi and Roland during the interview mentioned above.

37. How much fun he looked like he was having in the “Kids of the Century” video.

38. Every time he dances around on stage.

39. His love for Gibson Les Pauls.

40. He was reading “A Hat Full of Sky” and even recommended it.

41. He says that his writing “Keeper of the Seven Keys” kept him alive and he considers it a major turning point in his life to have come up with the idea for it.

42. The hairspray scene in the Hellish Rock road movie.

43. He actually got involved with the DJ game when they were in Japan (Keeper Legacy road movie) – the whole arcade scene was great.

44. The way he just looks at a camera sometimes and doesn’t say a word – he just starts making faces and looking off in different directions. He can be funny without saying a single word.

45. His guitar solo in “Back On the Ground”.

46. He played most of the guitar on the Better Than Raw album.

47. Weikath Syndrome is the coolest thing to catch.

48. During the German Top 6 video (1993), he was drinking a Capri Sun. I think it may have even been Wild Cherry.

49. A Gibson Les Paul looks absolutely perfect on him. I also love the way he holds the guitar.

50. How his hair has always been shoulder length (at least) since the late ‘80s (and beautiful).

51. He thinks of the younger viewers/fans.

52. All the love for him in the Hellbook.

53. I don’t how much of the lyrics to “Dreambound” he wrote, but he has a credit on that song and OH MY GOD, is it flipping incredible! I must make special mention to how amazing “the Saints” is, too.

54. He wanted to talk to Michael Kiske when they met at a festival in 2012/2013, so they could try and work things out a little.

55. He wanted “Livin’ Ain’t No Crime” to be a single.

56. His song “Number One” and how uplifting and positive the lyrics are, especially the chorus.

57. When they were on the Ferris wheel, they didn’t start REALLY laughing until Weiki did.

58. How he introduces himself as “de Michael Weikath of Helloween” and he even got Dani to do it with him.

59. He contributed a guitar solo to the German Rock Project’s “Let Love Conquer the World” (the long Metal version) but went all incognito with it and is credited as “a member of the Seventh Key”.

60. The fact that he wanted a flute in “Raise the Noise” and it sounds totally awesome!

61. The sexy witch on the cover of Better Than Raw was Weiki’s idea.

62. His makeshift rocking chair.

63. His spoken part of the Dezperadoz song “First Blood” (and “Echoes of Eternity”, too).

64. How funny was in the two Nuremberg interviews from the ‘80s that are on YouTube.

1987 – He lights a cigarette, he passes it Ingo, Ingo passes it back, and Weiki passes it back to him. Ingo then proceeds to throw it on the ground and Weiki attempts to lightly hit him but only manages to hit his hair. xD

1988 – The FUNNY one! He was so frickin’ funny in that one. I won’t give away the end of it if you’ve never seen it, but it involves a balloon and a cigarette. (by the way, Michael Weikath takes his sunglasses off and puts them back on 13 times, 10 of which are in the first three minutes).

65. After an interviewer thanks him for being there, “Ja, that’s not so much I can do about it, because somebody put me on this Earth and I went out of my mother and suddenly I was there and now I have to deal with this crap.”

66. During the Indianapolis Hell On Wheels concert, during “Halloween”, Michi passes the mic over to Weiki and Weiki does the “I’ll show you power and glory” part. Michi then makes a disgruntled face at him and rubs the mic with his shirt, causing Weiki to make a face back at him!

67. Also from the same Hell On Wheels concert, during “A Tale That Wasn’t Right”, he was stepping on the skeleton and making Ingo laugh.

68. Speaking of “A Tale That Wasn’t Right”, that song is incredible and very powerful.

69. He let the other members of the band help out on “Mission Motherland”. That song is very quickly becoming my favorite song of theirs.

70. His backing vocals in the “Sea of Fears” demo.

71. All of his little pins that he wears: the pumpkin, the W, the stars…

72. This comment he made about the Hellbook: “With the hardcover you can better smash your naughty brother... and you can with the regular as well, just maybe not as effective.” I have actually made that joke to my brother before. xD

73. Someone at a meet-n-greet in 2008 showed the band an old picture of the guys, which they all signed. It was an old picture. Kai was stunned, Markus laughed his ass off, and Michael actually said he remembered where it was taken and when. The picture was taken in 1986, so that is kind of impressive.

74. He helped me become a big fan of Deep Purple. Yes, I will admit to only becoming a major Deep Purple fan after becoming a Helloween fan - and it was all because of Weiki. And now I'm really happy because I never realized how awesome Deep Purple is. Same thing with Wishbone Ash.

75. He’s given me several phrases to use whenever applicable.

- “Impressive, isn’t it?”

- “You have to listen with your ears.”

- “It’s nice, cold, windy, sunny weather.” (which pretty much describes Florida in the winter sometimes)

76. He can still sing with a cigarette in his mouth and not drop the cigarette.

77. The intro to “Halloween”. I’m not sure if he played it on the original recording, but when he plays it live… OH MY GOD.

78. His guitar solo in “First Time”.

79. He’s fun to watch in the “When the Sinner” video when he’s shown, especially when he’s playing those power chords in the beginning (even though he played no guitar on the song) and the part in the saloon.

80. How amazing “Les Hambourgeois Walkways” is.

81. He’s written a couple songs that he has dedicated to groups of fans ~ “LAVDATE DOMINVM” for the Latin speaking fans, and “Born on Judgment Day” for the people of Brazil.

82. How he’s so easily able to make Sascha laugh behind the camera.

More here 💜

[nyaacatboy]

Fate’s Door, Chapter 4: A Day In The Life Of Patton

Masterpost/Chapter 3/Chapter 5

If it weren’t for the kids, Patton would have left Archdale as soon as he’d turned fourteen and finished his schooling. Some days, he would even entertain the thought of jumping out the window and traveling to the sea, or the mountains. Yet he couldn’t bear to leave the younger orphans. The caretakers were apathetic at worst and brutally violent at best, and Patton at least knew how to bandage cuts and give kind words. He could keep the brutality of the institution from leaving too deep of an imprint.

Of course, they treated him much worse than the younger ones he cared for. Officially, Patton was listed as “Apprentice Caretaker,” but in reality his job was doing everything the older caretakers didn’t wish to do. Playing with the children, teaching them actual life skills, making sure everyone got enough to eat, kissing them goodnight, and any chores they found unpleasant. This treatment wasn’t the worst of it, however. The worst woke him up every morning and said farewell at night.

“Pamela! Pamela, it’s time to wake up dear.” The elderly woman lightly rapped on Patton’s door. “Come on, you’ve got to help prepare breakfast.”

Patton’s self-cut hair was still in a bird’s nest when he threw on his clothes and opened the door. “For the last time, it’s Patton. Times change.” They had this exchange every morning, yet they both refused to budge on their positions. Ever since Patton had found out that being a guy born in a girl’s body was a real thing, he’d insisted that everyone use his preferred name and pronouns. There were many sacrifices he made, but being himself wasn’t one of them.

Unfortunately, not everyone was a fan of self-expression. The caretaker kept talking.“Don’t be silly, dear. Your parents named you Pamela, don’t change it. You don’t want to toss aside the last thing your parents gave you?” Patton had long since figured out that the old woman who supposedly headed the institute was blind to more things than cataracts blocked from her view. “Besides, I don’t know why you insist on being called ‘he’ all the time. You’ve got such a motherly instinct!”

“It’s because I identify as male. And I care about other people because I’m empathetic, not because of instinct.” Heck, he’d even chosen the name “Patton” because it was related to the word “paternal.” Since basically forever, he’d wanted to be a dad in some way. Patton started making oatmeal, tossing in brown sugar while the woman aimlessly stood next to him.

“You really should grow your hair out. That’s such an unladylike style. What a shame, you’re so pretty.” Patton pretended that he was alone in the kitchen, and that he was about to go feed well-cared-for children their morning feast. He didn’t dignify her statement with a reply.

Patton carried the pot out to the children, who looked sullen and tired. He spooned oatmeal into everyone’s bowl, asking little questions about their morning and the weather to every kid. Their fatigued faces brightened slightly when he talked to them, and even more so when they dug into their breakfasts.

“So, what are we doing today?” Patton asked. Usually the caretakers told the children the day’s events first thing in the morning, and he didn’t want to get left in the dark.

A little girl opened her mouth to tell him, but the severe caretaker at the end of the table cut her off. Patton knew this woman, she’d started working here a few years ago, and was not a fan of children in the slightest.

“The children will be attending lessons, and in between lessons they will be learning how to clean up after themselves, something that has been quite the issue lately,” she said.  

Oh dear. Children with cleaning supplies. That wouldn’t end well, and Patton figured he would end up cleaning up the worst of it. At least he got a break to walk around town this afternoon, something to look forward to. “How is everyone doing with classes?” he asked, trying to diffuse the cold attitude the caretaker had brought to the room. Patton wasn’t allowed in the room when they did lessons, so he always liked to know how those things were going.

“I don’t understand science,” Angel, one of the younger ones, said.

Morgan adjusted her wireframe glasses. “I’m doing well with economics for now, but it’s always off and on.”

“I’m sure you guys can figure it out. Angel, you’re brilliant, you’ll soar above those challenges with your wings.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Angel replied, smiling slightly. The rest of the table groaned. They were all too accustomed to Patton’s relentless puns.

“And Morgan, they’re just numbers. They can’t have too many problems, they don’t even have brains. You’ll get it” Patton was trying to carefully diffuse most of the tension from the room, and for now he was succeeding.

Morgan rolled her eyes and resumed eating her oatmeal. Nona piped up. “I’m doing well in pretty much everything, but I wish we could do more field trips.”

This prompted a discussion about their last trip to the North River, remembering studying small organisms under the microscope and goofing off in the shallow areas. Patton enjoyed the conversation, but remembering refusing to go into the water because he didn’t want to show his body brought his cheery manner down a notch.

His mood plummeted further when one of the maids motioned for him to leave the dining room. Apparently, he had to wash the windows and guide some prospective parents this morning. Washing the windows was hard physical labor, but it was at least a distraction from thinking about the kids doing their lessons and not getting the guidance they needed. He focused on getting bird poop off of the windows to their bedrooms instead.

The windows were nearly done when someone called for him to come in. Patton dropped down from his stepladder and carried his window-washing supplies with him to the entrance. He pushed them into a closet, smoothed out his shirt, and cleaned the grime off of his pants. “I’m ready. When are they coming?”

The eldest of the caretakers tsked at him. “No, dear, you’re not even dressed properly. Here, you’d best wear this, and put your hair under this cap. I don’t know how you can stand having it so short!” She handed him a bundle of clothes.

Patton lifted up the top piece of clothing. “A dress? Can’t I just wear a nice pair of pants or something?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a young lady, act like it!”

He got dressed, and obediently tucked his hair into the cap. Knowing full well that he’d likely get asked to take them off, Patton put on his glasses. They always made him feel more masculine, no matter what got him down. He didn’t absolutely need to wear them, but they did make things a little clearer.

Thankfully, no one mentioned his glasses. He led the prospective parents around and patiently listened to their questions while the caretakers ran off to do who knows what. He lied through his teeth about the treatment of the children there, knowing that people only adopted poorly-treated orphans out of pity. The children deserved better than pity parents. They asked all the right questions, and even thanked him for the tour. Patton was almost sad to see them go. He’d recommended that they adopt Angel, because the little bean deserved parents as good as they would be, and their positive dispositions would only help the little dude.

Materializing out of nowhere, the caretakers returned. “What great friends they are. They must have such a great connection in order to raise children together,” one mentioned.

Patton distinctly recalled that the two women had been holding hands the entire time. “I think they were more than friends. They held hands the whole time,” he mentioned, knowing full well that the caretakers wouldn’t get it.  

In the interest of his sanity, Patton tuned out their replies until they told him what he would be doing that afternoon. It was more chores, he had to mow the lawn and clean the kitchen. Patton dressed in what he’d been wearing this morning, then got to work, daydreaming about what he’d do with his free period. He had decided on going to the bookstore and taking a walk in the park once he was done with the kitchen, and now he was onto the lawn. The lawnmower cut neat lines in the grass, and Patton thought about his future.

In all honesty, Patton had no clue what he’d do with himself once he was eighteen and couldn’t stay with the institute and care for the kids anymore. There were certain things he refused to do, like work in a factory running machines. He had vague ideas: helping the kingdom (in general), being happy, making friends his own age, and distancing him from this institute as soon as possible. Nothing solid, despite the harebrained schemes he’d dreamed up when particularly bored that ended with him the hero of the city and with every caretaker mysteriously dead or missing. Also the perfect body, and a hot boyfriend.

Well, he was done with the lawn, and it was four o’clock, so Patton left the lawnmower where it was and set out into the heart of town. He bought a cookie from a small bakery, then walked around the park and pet every dog he met. It’s the little things in life. The bookstore was his next destination, Patton planned on buying a book or two for himself and some picture/elementary level books with his meager allowance. Morgan had been begging for some famous author’s new release, so he had to get that.

Logan, the apprentice at the bookstore, greeted Patton on his way in. Logan and Patton were no more than acquaintances(although Patton would totally date him), but Patton could tell something was definitely off about him. Usually, the Logan was a bit friendlier and less...awkward. With hopes that Logan would just come out and tell Patton what was bothering him, Patton puttered around the store, picking up all the books he wanted. It was strangely empty, but after a day’s worth of chores, Patton didn’t really care.

At the checkout, Patton decided to make a little small talk. Perhaps it would brighten up Logan’s day.

“Not much of a crowd here. Did the comedy books put people in stitches?” he teased, carefully gauging Logan’s reaction.

“No, it’s not that. Technically, we’re supposed to be closed, but you usually drop in some time from four to six, so I opened it as soon as I saw you coming in. I have something I think you might be interested, no, concerned about, no, find sad-I have something you might like to see.”

“What?” Patton asked. What was Logan going on about?

“Uh, I think you’d best read it for yourself.” Logan slid a piece of parchment over to Patton across the counter.

TAGS: @fanficptsd