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hhawks · 2 years

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GUNPOWDER EMPIRES.

✰ starring: roy mustang x fem!reader ✰ synopsis: after the war against ishval, your trauma catches up to you. the only way to leave it all behind is to bring the central command to its knees. ✰ content: descriptions of war, killing (nondescript), mentioned staging suicide, trauma, slight ptsd, descriptions of arson and setting fire to government property, the amestris government is shit and roy mustang is love ✰ warnings: gunplay, fearplay, temperature play (since roy uses fire<3), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight babytrapping, watersports. i am horny for this man. ✰ word count: 10.5k of unedited, unbetaed horny. i did not plan for it to be this long ✰ a/n: THIS IS SO LATE I'M SO SORRY but this is a part of @cyancherub's back from the dead collab <3 thank you for letting me join sweetheart i'm sorry i'm so late

amestris’ centre city is cold at night.

you think maybe the skyline is pretty enough from up here, the wind whistling and the nearest intelligent life miles away from you. you think maybe the distance can distract you from the pressing weight of your thoughts, the responsibilities you shoulder.

being a state alchemist isn’t easy. you knew this when they approached you, when you took the tests, when you so rigorously trained yourself day and night to become one. but none of that prepared you for this. none of that prepared you for the heavy heart you carry, that sags in your chest and pours out of your sternum. no one could have warned you of the nightmares and the shadows that haunt you.

haven’t you found yourself here before? on this very rooftop, watching the lights flicker. surrounded by the world and yet, so alone in the thick of it. you work, you eat, you sleep. is there more of a life beyond that? should there be?

somewhere in the distance, you hear a bell toll, signaling midnight. it echoes in the distance, soft and dulled once it reaches you, like the gentle lull of a white cap against the shore. you breathe in, the cold night air stinging your nose. you need to go.

“goodbye,” you whisper. to the city, to the government you had sworn yourself to, the people you gave your life to protect. you say goodbye to the life you had lived up to now.

and as you leave, you think of him.

you say your goodbyes to him too.

your first day in central command, donning the blue shoulder mark with gold insignia, you walked alone into the hallways. you were placed under mustang for care, just to be safe, to guide you along the idiosyncrasies of this outrageous position. “what’s your schtick?” he asked you on your first day.

“my schtick?”

“you know. what makes you special? what’s your research on?”

“oh,” you chuckled nervously. “well it’s a little bit of everything.”

he offered you a cup of tea. you refused. “c’mon. don’t be shy. tell me.”

“no i’m— i specialise in imitating people’s power. like, your flame alchemy, or tucker’s chimeras.” you crossed your legs in your chair. “it’s really a little bit of everything.”

“couldn’t find something you liked so you came after all of us, huh?” he laughed, pouring his own cup of tea.

“it’s still very… in the works,” you giggled. “i’m gonna need some help.”

“i got your back,” he promised, soft and gentle. almost genuine.

roy mustang was a charmer. you’d heard of him way before your alchemist exam, along the grapevine twisting through the streets of amestris. manipulative, sure. lazy, of course. you watched him then, kicking his feet up on his oak desk, not even minding the paperwork spread across the surface. “tell me about yourself.”

“i started practising alchemy with my fath—”

“about yourself, not your alchemy.”

you were taken aback for a second, the sour taste of surprise on the tip of your tongue. “not—” you stopped short. when has anyone ever asked you about anything but your alchemy? “i’m from rush valley.”

“really?” he cracked a small grin. “i’ve never been. tell me about it.”

and so you did, telling him about the town’s centre that saw the rise of a lot of shops, unique cuisine. the rocky cliffs that loom over the land, and how you’d lived just a little out of the way, out of the city centre. “and coming to central city, it’s been…”

“weird?” mustang finished for you. “loud? busy?”

“all of those things,” you breathed, but still searching for the right word to grace your tongue. “but also, promising.”

the ishvalan civil war was easy on nobody. king bradley’s order #3066 had state alchemists doled out like weapons on the front line of ishval. you never wanted to; no one did. but it was an ultimatum; work for the fürher and steal millions of innocent lives, or lose your own. (you would have picked the latter. you should have.)

“you can’t say no,” roy told you, hands met in an uneasy camaraderie in front of him, placed squarely on his large oak table. “i’m sorry, major.”

“you call me major like you aren’t in the same rank,” you laughed, trying to ease the tension between the two of you. the knowledge, the impending judgement of the two of you hung like a stench between you, pregnant with silence, thick with nervousness. it clogged up your throat and stings your nose, and you could tell by the waver in roy’s voice that he felt the same.

“you are still my subordinate.” he chuckled, leaning back slightly. you both wondered in what world you’ll ever be able to relax again.

the clock ticked, seconds falling away. you’d been in this room, his office so much that you started to see parts of you in it; an extra cloak you’d left on your last visit, your favourite pen in his mug-turned-pen-holder, little sticky notes you’d left him, asking can i have my pen back? and please give me back my pen. and STOP STEALING MY PENS.

“will you be okay?” he asked, his voice softer now. like he was treading on water, on eggshells to see how you would respond. you look at him, curious black meeting your gaze, and you have to smile. have to brave through your own inhibition. because you rely on each other, you and roy. it was silly, it was naive to think that he thought of you as any more than a pesky colleague, a friend to waste time with. but sitting here, in the thick of your arriving judgement, divine intervention, you couldn’t help but want to lean over. plant a kiss on the bridge of his nose, tell him, i’ll be okay. we’ll be okay.

but you couldn’t. because roy mustang is roy mustang, serial flirt and untouchable. he was regal and elegant and everything anyone could wish to be. but beyond all of that he was your friend—your superior, someone who put his life on the line for you and his friends time and time again. you had a debt to him you could never repay, and admitting your feelings would only worsen the burden of it. so you sat where you were, and watched the crease in his brow deepen. watched him from afar as you always had.

“we’ll be fine, roy.” you assured him.

“we’ll be fine,” he agreed. “but they won’t.”

the morning of the extermination came, and you stood, surrounded by ash and debris and the echoes of screaming children. you could barely recognise the town anymore, bloodshed and tears twisting through the veins of the place. the ground beneath you shakes, and you couldn’t let yourself look at the destruction you were contributing to. the pleas, the looks on their faces before you knocked them to dust.

somewhere behind you, roy was thinking the exact same thing. one meticulated snap after another. a power promised to serve and protect, exploited to kill and conquer.

you ended the war. the state alchemists ended the war. but at what cost?

“the hero of ishval,” roy gnashed his teeth together, the two gilded stars added to his shoulder marks glinting in the reflection of the fluorescent light. “that’s what they’re calling me.”

his skill and notoriety earned him that title. his dedication to his service, his passion to go above and beyond for his state. but you watched him crumble to dust when you returned to amestris. watched him cry. the hero of ishval, reduced to a little boy who just wanted to be told good job.

“i know,” you whispered, soft and delicate against his skin.

“i killed those people,” he continued. “and they’re calling me a hero.”

fucked up, wasn’t it? amestris’ best soldiers, choking back tears as they were awarded for their valiant efforts, for their skill and magnitude. for causing irreparable damage to a town that never meant harm. for killing innocent lives. for being a part of a system that exploited their men and women, using them as weapons when they had promised to protect.

you held roy and he held you. for a few hours you sat like that, a fragile man refusing to cry, and you, trying to hold it up for him to rely on you. but the moment he reached up to you, lips next to your ear, and whispered, “you’re allowed to cry, major.”, you felt the unfamiliar pinprick of tears welling up behind your eyelids, the sting in your nose.

“i didn’t want to do that,” you whimpered. “i didn’t want to—”

“i know, i know,” he hushed you softly, rubbing your back. your mind subconsciously drifted to the locked latch on his office door, for fear anyone would come in and witness a primitive moment between two friends, trauma-ridden and guilt-stricken, holding one another like the world burnt down around them. and perhaps it did. the world you’d once known.

because the ishvalan civil war changed people. the ishvalan civil war changed you.

you tried to leave, tried to resign from service but they didn’t let you.

“you’re too valuable to us as an alchemist, major,” general grand had set his foot down. “unfortunately, we cannot accept your resignation.”

you clenched your fist, your jaw locking. “yes, sir.” you grunted through your teeth, eyeing mustang who, lingering by the doorway, avoided your gaze. it was not said, but you can hear it in grand’s smile.

run away, and we will find you.

and so it was settled; you would kill yourself to run away.

the plan is simple. set it on fire, and die.

of course, you don’t actually die. you leave your badge and uniform and shoulder marks there next to a mutilated, burnt corpse surrounded by raging fire, and you escape. you run from amestris, from the burden of knowing you killed innocent people.

you’d watched mustang’s fire alchemy enough to understand the mechanics of it. you knew that riza’s tattoo held the secrets to her father’s research, and mustang had, at her insistence, scorched sections of it off after he mastered it, but you’d seen enough that you could replicate it with fine little flaws that would go unnoticed to the naked eye.

and so you’ll use that. throwing mustang under the bus wasn’t your intention. you didn’t mean for him to be your scapegoat, but seeing how much time you’ve spent with him, his alchemy is the one you know best. that you could replicate without major implications or fuck ups. and so you will, because you have nothing left to lose.

the alleyway is narrow, dim-lit by the glowing orange fluorescent of the streetlamp that looms over you. little puddles of water ripple along the surface as you splash through them, the sair stuffy and damp. you have to get to the central library; you’d been there many times previously, roaming hallways and narrow aisles, picking up documents for your superiors, doing research for your yearly report. the place, while still well-secured and protected, is still the least patrolled of the central government buildings.

you slip your hood up over your head, pulling your mask up. you give yourself one more chance to back out, to step away and go home. what are you doing? all this, all the trouble you’d been through over the years, all the friends you’d made, the work you put it; are you finally ready to throw it all away?

yes. you are.

you pad softly towards the back of the library, the shrubbery and dark green shadows hide the cans of kerosene that you’d left here in preparation. you pull on your gloves— a makeshift version of mustang’s— and pick up one of the cans. you had no doubts in the nature of your alchemy; you knew you could start a fire. but the precision, the power, the strength to keep it going as long as needed, that was a skill that only mustang had mastered.

it drools from the spout along the little pasture at the back of the building, and you’re careful to follow the plan you’d drawn out in your head, memorising the schedules, the paths of the patrolling officers. stepping cautiously as you come up to one of the half open windows you had left open in a room that went mostly unused, setting the can down before hoisting your legs over the sill, sliding inside.

you reach over, grabbing the can and pulling it up into your embrace. you huff a small breath, slow and hesitant, looking up at the rows and rows of bookshelves that line the walls.

just this room, you think. whatever is in here, people could miss it. hopefully the guards patrolling the library would find the room before the fire spreads too much, and by then, you’d be long gone. the stench of kerosene has stained your hands, but you pay it no mind as you begin to soak the old wooden bookshelves in pale yellow. you should, in theory, have time— the patrolling officer on duty should still be on the other side of the building.

when you’re done, you’re out of breath. the kerosene fumes are getting to you; you need out, and out quickly. you let the can clatter to the floor, testing out your flame alchemy on your right hand. the can hits the floor with a loud thud, and you shrug it off. no one should be near enough to hear, you think. right?

god hates you. god is watching and praying on your downfall, because at that very moment you hear approaching footsteps and you freeze in your tracks. “is there someone in here?” comes a muffled voice through the door, low, commanding, familiar.

the smell of the kerosene has to be obvious, wafting through the bottom of the door. you need to go; now. but the voice comes again, “hello?” and a shiver trickles down your spine.

it’s roy.

what the fuck is he doing here? you know state alchemists are sometimes called in to fill in for patrollers who call in sick or are posted elsewhere, a little placeholder before they find a new regular. but you didn’t know— you thought they only asked majors, nothing above the lowest rank of alchemy. here you are, staging the scene for your fake suicide and here comes your superior, the only man you’ve trusted in your life, ruining months of planning, weeks of preparation.

go away. go away.

“i know there’s someone in here.”

go away. please, go away.

“the fuck— is that…”

the handle of the door jiggles, and you think. stay, explain and risk him selling you out to the central command, and spending the rest of your sorry life in central prison? or leave now, leave the kerosene and the soaked bookshelves to be found and your meticulous planning, obtaining and memorising routines and schedule, all for naught? when would you have another chance like this?

as quiet as you can, you snap your fingers together. just a small flame would do, anything to just get the fire started. but your trembling hands fail you, the leather of the gloves slipping past each other without enough friction for the gases to instantaneously react and pop. the door swings open, and it’s too late to escape.

“major?” roy looks at you, and you force yourself to meet his gaze.

“colonel,” you greet him, your voice threatening to shake. your throat squeezes.

the look in his eyes is devastating. the softness against onyx glass, both confusion and understanding mixing in a melting pot of empathy. “major, what are you doing here?”

you watch him closely. note the holster on his hip, his quivering, hesitant hands. he stands at the doorway, slouched slightly. “i could ask you the same thing,” you whisper.

the smell, the can lying at your feet, the slow, steady drip of excess kerosene. if he pieces it together now, he doesn’t show it. you’re frozen where you stand, your hands behind you shaking too much to attempt to snap, posture poised to escape by foot. “don’t tell me you were about to do what i think you’re about to do, major.” he says so softly, calmly it makes you angry. how dare he patronise you at a time like this. please, just be angry. yell, scream shout. you wish he would give you a reason to fight.

but instead he’s taking his hand off the holster on his hip, holding them up in faux surrender, and steps closer to you.

“roy,” you voice wavers, and you curse it. “leave.”

“i can’t do that,” he whispers back.

you need to distract him. you need to get your fire going, or somehow get him to start it. why won’t your fire work? how could it fail you now, after months of practice? how do you distract him? your eyes dart around the dim-lit room, searching for a way out. an escape. something to throw at him and run.

“major,” he begins. “i know it’s hard. we’re all in the same boat as you.”

“shut up,” you hiss, “you don’t know anything.”

he shrugs, dropping his arms. “you think i don’t know anything? you think i wasn’t there killing those people next to you?”

you bite your tongue. it’s unfair of you to take out this anger on roy. unfair of you to invalidate his own experience when you fought side by side. distract him. distract him.

“don’t do this, major.” he reaches for you, gloved hand outstretched. distract him. “don’t do this. you have so much amazing potential as an alchemist, and you’re sweet and funny and all the other alchemists love you.” roy pauses for a second, weighing the words on his tongue. distract him, distract him and set it ablaze. “...i—”

you don’t let him finish. you take the last step forward, closing the gap between the two of you and pushing your lips onto his, sealing his words in his mouth. he’s taken aback, stumbling slightly with a slight squeak of surprise, before his eyes flutter shut. he relaxes into your unwelcome welcome kiss, and your mind’s reeling a mile a minute. you’d always wondered what roy’s lips felt like, the soft breath against your skin. you never thought he’d feel this soft.

now. now. now. your hands move wildly behind your back, taking this welcome distraction to finally produce your flames but your wrist is met with sudden resistance, a warm grip wrapping around you. “i’m not stupid, major,” roy breathes against your lips. but you’re looking at each other now, eyes glimmering, and he’s the one who presses his lips back to yours, hands wrapped around your wrists, slipping off your gloves. “be a good girl now.”

ruined. ruined. ruined. you push him off of you, glowering at him with a retort on the tip of your tongue, but you watch him light your gloves on fire, evaporating within seconds, dull ash flittering to the ground. “fuck you,” you hiss. “i fucking hate you.”

“you don’t mean that,” he murmurs, eyes shimmering, backing you into the corner. your hip hits the corner of a desk, piles and piles of folders scattered against the surface. you yelp softly, but roy swallows your noises, cupping your cheeks in his big, leather-clad palms and kissing you softly. he's touching you, handling you with such affection, such mirth and adoration in his eyes. you'd never imagine in any lifetime that you'd be right here, inches away from his lips."do you mean that?"

no. no, you don't, and it becomes an ache in your throat; a fire to be sated, to be extinguished with his lips on yours. but you're so angry, so frustrated that all your plans have been for naught, putting a fierceness behind your kisses. it's gnashing teeth and biting lips, ragged breathing. fuck you, you think, curving into the swell of his jaw. fuck you. let me die. but none of it escapes past your lips. not when your pinned dead to his gaze, like a small flame behind the dark of his eyes. kindling, splintering fire.

"that's my girl," roy breathes, a small shudder leaving his lips. the smell of kerosene becomes familiar to you, the burning in your nostrils nothing more than a sting now. "up. get up."

"fuck you," you say again, but comply. there has to be some kind of nicotine, some kind of drug in his spit because you need him to kiss you. some kind of fire in his fingertips, because for a second you'd forgotten the whole reason you were in this room. all you can think about is how much you crave his touch. "fuck you."

he hoists you by your hips, up onto the table, shoving the contents to the floor. your breathing hitches and you pull him in by his collar, mashing your lips together. it's messy, clumsy, graceless, but neither of you care. all you can think about is the way he's gripping the sides of the table, almost shaking with the amount of force he has to reign in. you arch along with one another, lips wet and soft and warm.

"roy," you whisper, intonating like a whine, and you fucking hate yourself for giving in so easy. for listening to the ache in your tummy, the pull of his weight on you. maybe, your mind tries to scramble, the only part still rational. maybe you can still distract him.

you curse the body that has betrayed you, but when his hands come up to your thighs, spreading them with little grace, and he says, "i know darlin'. i know." you can’t seem to find it in you to push him away. can’t find it in you to disobey him.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper. his hair is soft, smooth, jet black as you run your fingers through it, tugging at the roots. he lets out a small groan, breathy and airy and you relish in it.

you ruined everything. everything.

it doesn't help for you to repeat these things in your head. it doesn't, because all it does is make you want him more, to kiss him and to conquer his battles. to prove him wrong, to show him what a disservice he did upon himself trying to stop you now. you need to make him want you, need you. you need to string him out, and cut him off.

and so you keep kissing him. kiss him until you're breathless, your voice lost in his throat, his spit dripping down yours. you're pulling him, more and more, over you that you collapse together against the large oak desk. you're spilling out of his hands and he's overflowing yours, the lewd sounds your mouth filling the gaps of air between you. "major," he breathes. "god, how long have you been wanting this?"

years. forever. ever since i met you. "i don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you spit at him, tugging him by the lapels of his jacket, hovering over your quivering body. "shut up and kiss me."

"yeah?" he taunts you. "want me to kiss you here, in the middle of your little arson case? want me to be nice to you when you were about to burn a building down? maybe you are a little stupid," he flicks your head. "you don't get to tell me what to do here, sweetheart."

you almost whine. almost thrash in his arms, almost throw a tantrum when he moves away from you, refusing the chase of your lips. "nuh uh," he continues. "you've been a very, very bad little girl."

the situation is ridiculous. what is his point in doing this, in taking away from you the only thing you've ever been brave enough to see through? he straightens up, gazing down at your figure sprawled against the dark oak table, glistening in the moonlight.

"you're beautiful," he whispers, dragging his fingers over your exposed skin. his touch lingers, raising goosebumps in his wake, and you shudder. ""what are you thinking about?"

the slick in between my legs. your hands on my skin. "how to set this shitty place on fire," you lie, gnashing your teeth together. "how much i want you to get off me."

roy chuckles, running a knuckle between your thighs. "are you sure that's what you're thinking about?" his skin makes contact with your heat through the layers of your uniform, and you keen. "something tells me otherwise."

you try to move, try to reach for his lapels or his coat or anything for some kind of leverage against him, to pull him down. but he stops you, gripping both wrists in one large palm.

"don't even think about it, major." he breathes against the skin of your thigh. "maybe i need to teach you a little lesson, hm?"

how did you even get here? in all the ways you'd imagined that this night would end, you'd never imagined this happening. not pinned under colonel roy mustang, his hands gripping yours above your head, some kind of tension palpable enough that you can hardly wade through it.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this," he chuckles. "always wondered what you'd look like fuckin' powerless under me. never thought you'd be so fuckin' pretty, yeah?"

how much i've thought about this. your eyes snap up to meet his, a look of confusion crossing your features. "you— what?"

"don't pretend like you don't know, major," his fingers trace the seam of your pants, directly along your cunt. "you know what i'm talking about."

"no, i fuckin' don't," your retort catches you off guard, a small huff of breath exhaled through your lips in the shape of those words. "you—"

"and i know," roy's hands, skilled and gloved, shift to the buckle of your uniform pants. "that you've wanted this too. haven't you?"

you look at him. you don't know what you look like, and frankly you're scared you'd be humiliated if you did. because your eyes, rimmed with desperation, some sort of sick want to be held and told, good job, i'm proud of you, peer up at him innocently.

"answer me."

"yes." it's out of your mouth before you can stop it, but you don't bother hiding it. "yes, yes."

roy mustang undoes the buckle of your pants so swiftly you make it a mental note to ask him why he's so skilled at removing women's buckles, but it's lost to you the moment the stiff, starchy material falls away. the air is cold and his palms are so hot, burning you with every simmering touch he graces your unmarked skin.

it's almost ridiculous, the way he shimmies your pants down your legs. "c'mon, help me out a little here, sweetheart." he grunts, and you help him, lift your hips up just a little to let him in just a little more. it slides off with regrettable ease, and you're left pantsless in a cold room.

so thank god his lips are immediately on yours, because you suck the warmth right out of him that way. you take, take, take, your freezing fingertips to his burning ones and you keep taking until it hurts, until you're dizzy with heat. roy warms you up so nicely, snaking his arms behind your back and pulling you close to him, a tight embrace that you can't even begin to count how much years since you've felt.

"baby," he whispers, and the pet name makes you shiver, your core quivering. "tell me. do you think you've been a good girl these days?"

you look at him, kiss drunk, his lips swollen and red and so kissable. "no," you answer truthfully. "i've been far from it."

he gasps mockingly, kissing your forehead. "maybe you aren't that much of an airhead, baby,"

you flush furiously. on any other day, in any other circumstance you would have retorted, shot back with a comment of your own, but you can't. you don't know why. you're sunk, surrounded by waters, tossing you every which way, shallow enough to keep you alive, but deep enough that you could barely reach out of the water, call for help. you've sunken deep into this headspace, and you do what roy has never seen you do.

you whine. and you beg.

"need to feel you," you whisper. it's ridiculous, the rational part of your brain yells, but you can't seem to reconcile your thoughts to your actions, your words. "roy, roy."

"you think you deserve it?" he tuts, another finger rubbing a circle through the thin fabric of your panties, and you buck into his hands, pushing back for more, more. "i don't think you do. i don't think you deserve anything."

that makes you livid. it makes you flush, your cunt ache. "you're terrible," you spit. "if you won't make me cum, let me do it myself."

"i didn't say i wasn't gonna let you cum," he grins, pearly whites flashing fluorescent at you. "i just said i don't think you deserve me touching you just yet."

he bends down now, nosing against the damp spot on the centre of your panties, trailing soft kisses against the skin of your inner thighs, the junction for your legs meet your body, the sensitive skin between your legs and where you need him most. "what do you think, baby?" he whispers, peering up at you from between your legs. "do you think you deserve this?" he licks a stripe along the wet spot, and you clench, the ghostly feeling of his tongue against you brushing you against the wall of your orgasm.

"roy," is all you can manage.

"i asked you a question, major." he sticks his tongue out, pressing it flat against the crotch of your panties, the warmth and heat of his mouth making you gush even more slick. god, he's such a fucking tease, hands behind his back and refusing to touch you even as you buck your hips forward to meet his mouth. "answer."

"no," you almost sob. "no, i don't deserve it."

he smiles. wolfish, sinister. "that's right." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. "you don't deserve this. i'm so fuckin' nice to give this to you, right? say yes."

"yes."

"yes, who?"

you look down at him, and he peers back at you, curious, demanding. you rake your hazy mind, trying to think whether he had mentioned something in passing to you, whether you keep the notes he's written for you. but nothing comes to mind. daddy? master? colonel?

what finds fruition on your tongue is, yes, sir.

roy mustang groans. groans, guttural and horrendously sexy, against the clothed dampness of your pussy. "sir, huh?" he teases you. "you like when your superior fucks you?"

another question. another, "yes, sir."

you can see the way it makes him flush, the tips of his ears turning red as he listens to you. "good girl," he grunts, licking another fat stripe up against the seam of your panties. "good fuckin' girl."

the feeling of his tongue on you, couples with the hands that slowly, slowly slither up from your calves to your knees to your thighs, to burn you alive. you can't help but whine, humping back against the ridge of his nose, the feeling of his tongue. "sir, sir," you whine. "wanna— wanna feel you."

you're gonna be the death of me, he thinks, looking up at you with an obsidian gaze. "want to feel me, baby?" he asks, slipping a single finger under the elastic of your panties. "want me to get rid of this stupid piece of cotton?" you nod frantically, your hands clutching the ridges at the head of the desk, vision blurry. "then beg."

when roy makes a command to you, you never hesitate to abide by it. never hesitate to drop what you're doing to join him for a meeting, or come with him for lunch. you hand him your pens when he asks for one. you do what he tells you, like a good subordinate. so now, it's in your very nature to obey him completely. "please, please sir. take off my panties, please."

"more."

"roy, fuck, please. please, pleasepleaseplease."

he looks at you, some kind of sick, twisted pity in his eyes. your voice, hoarse and strained, pitching upwards in a plea, it melts him. he, untouchable, invincible, reared to his knees. roy mustang kisses you once, twice, sweet spit slick on your lips. “good girl,” he whispers, and his fingertips dig underneath the flimsy cotton of your panties.

plain white, stretching over the curve of your hips and ass, a pretty pink little bow in the centre of the elastic. “pretty,” he whispers, almost mesmerising. “pretty little thing.”

he keeps his promises. always does. he tugs, once harsh, one more time gentle, and your hips lift intrinsically, the cotton falling away, down your hips to your thighs, revealing to him your slick pussy, cunt glistening with wet. he chokes back a groan, but his eyes never leave the string of slick that connects your skin to your panties. his eyes grow impossibly darker, gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“you’ve been keeping this pussy away from me, huh?” he taunts, pulling your panties further down so it dangles by your ankles, before slipping them off completely, tucking it into his pocket. “years of fuckin’ teasing me, hiding this princess cunt away from me.”

you mewl. “shut up,” you moan, swivelling your hips to back up closer to him. “you— you never wanted me.”

“lies. fuckin’ lies.” he seethes, hunching over you. “look at you. you think i never wanted you? you’re irresistible, fucking insatiable. kept you around hoping one day you’ll cave.” he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “and i’m fucking glad i waited.”

the words make you shiver. make you arch your back to chase more of him, desperate for some kind, any kind of touch.

“be patient,” he huffs, drawing patterns into the plush flesh of your thighs. “you want this, huh? tell me. tell me you’ve always wanted me.” it’s a command but the way his voice pitches upwards, it finishes like a plea. tell me you want this too, he begs. tell me i wasn’t the only one who wanted this.

“yes,” you answer, breathy. “i want— always wanted this,” his hands, warm, so warm, fit like a glove along the curve of your hips, the divots where your torso melds into your legs. “roy, wanted you.”

he groans. “you’re such a bad girl,” you can hear something moving, clunking like metallic, but you can’t keep your eyes open long enough to see, to understand. “need to teach you a lesson, yeah? say yes.”

“yes,” you gasp. “yes sir.”

“bad fucking slut, begging for her superior to fuck her dumb. aren’t you?” his voice is getting frantic, and you feel him moving against you desperately, his hips pressing to your bare, uncovered cunt. his pants, thick and rough, drag along your clit and you stutter out a whine before you feel it.

the hardening bulge in his pants. the painful, excruciating fruition of his desire, prodding against your pussy. fuck. fuck. you want it, need it, more than anything else you’d ever thought about.

“answer me, slut.”

“yes!” you wail, desperate, clinging on to his jacket. it’s infuriating, humiliating that you’re naked waist down, your suit and jacket haphazard on your torso while he’s still picture perfect, kept and clean other than the desperate tent in his pants.

“close your eyes, major,” he commands you, and you frown, mouth open and poised to question him, but you’re met with a stern tap on your cheek and harsh words. “i said, close your eyes.”

you blink back at him, still defiant.

something in his jaw shifts and you don’t see it happening, but his fingers come up to your collarbones, clad in leather and warm. they wrap around your throat, and he gives you a tight squeeze. you gasp, your throat bobbing under the sternness of his hands. “i’m not going to repeat myself, major.”

you can’t retort, not without your voice cutting out, your dignity wavering, so you let your eyes flutter shut. your hands coming down to grasp at his arm, not quite pulling him off, more a kind of grounding, centering yourself as shapes and colours spin behind your eyelids. your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing as he just squeezes harder, and then suddenly lets go.

you stutter through a cough, a gasp, but force your eyes to remain closed. you don’t dare disobey him now, not as you feel him move against you, warm leather tracing down your thighs and lifting up, up, up to expose your bare pussy to the cold air. “s-sir,” you whimper.

“shhhh,” he hushes you, and from the sound of his voice, the vibrations against your core, you can tell where he is; close to your pussy, right above it maybe. it proves right when you feel his tongue, warm, wet, soft run up along the slit of your pussy. you whine, a full body shudder rippling through you, crawling under your skin. “stay.”

the low timbre of his voice convinces you to listen, and stay. stay as he drags his tongue, tantalising, torturous against your cunt, lapping up any of your gush and slick. you can’t see anything, all your trust embedded in the man in front of you as he holds your thighs open, lips right up against your pussy.

roy pauses for a while, the warmth of his tongue and fingers and draping presence leaving you cold for a second before you hear a bit of shuffling, a bit of rustling, shifting. “be good now,” he murmurs. “okay?”

and that’s when you feel it. cold metal, warming up as he drags it up, down along your slick. your eyes shoot open when it dawns upon you what exactly is pressing into your warm skin, a broken gasp tearing through your throat. his gun, his hands on the handle, nowhere near the trigger, guiding the tip against the slit of your cunt. “r-roy—”

“i said, be good,” he grunts, other hand returning to wrap around your throat. “i said i was gonna teach you a lesson, didn’t i?”

you can’t help but clench, can’t help but let your jaw drop open as the barrel rubs against your clit. “oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter through the constriction of your throat. why aren’t you scared? the feeling of the gun against your pussy does nothing to terrify you, but all to arouse you. it’s insane, the chill of the metal material pressing up against your welcoming slit, your pussy subconsciously gushing as it rubs again, and again, and again against the wet of your cunt and pushes in, your back arching into him as his gun fucks you.

“you like my gun?” his voice is rough, scratching against your ear drums. he lowers himself, his thumb and index finger tightening against the pretty column of your throat. “you do, don’t you? don’t even know if i have my safety on, baby. i’m sure i turned it on, but—” but you cut him off with a mewl, and you can see the quick second of confusion on his face.

“ah,” he says when he gets it, the frown in his forehead smoothing out. “you like the danger. you like that i could just—” he mimics the sound of a trigger and a shot, “— don’t you? tell me you like it.”

the oblong shape of the barrel fucks your walls strangely, warming up quickly bathed in the syrupy slick of your pussy. “i-i like it,” you whisper, barely audible over the schlick, schlick sound that your pussy makes every time he works the barrel into your tight pussy. you’re so debauched you can’t gather enough willpower to buck your hips down to meet the rhythm of his thrusts, just letting him stretch you open with the round tip of the gun. “h-haa,” you whimper, throat squeezing with the force of his hand.

“good. good girl.” he breathes, shoving the gun deeper in. it’s humiliating, the way it hurts, the way that doesn’t even deter you from wanting more. the metal is solid, stiff, unyielding, unlike a normal cock. it doesn’t meld to the shape of your walls, or give way, but insteads stretches you out and open and begging for more. “taking it like such a good girl. learning your lesson, hm?”

“shut up,” you hiss at him, trying to keep your eyes open, but they refuse. so you glare at him through hooded eyes, keeping them in focus, trying so hard to stop them from rolling back into your head.

he tuts. gives you one last shove, the barrel of the gun pressed up against your sweet spot, and you fall apart, legs giving out and eyes rolling back. it’s all too much and yet not enough to cum; but just as you’re about to beg for more, just a little more, he pulls it out of you.

roy relishes in the look you give him, part shock, part disgust, but most of all, annoyance. “roy—” you begin, but you don’t get to finish.

“i was just calling you a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to loom over you. he brings his hand, gun in grip, up to your face, and presses the slick barrel to the seam of your lips, globs of clear and white coating the black polish of the gun. “you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?” he presses harder, and your lips part subconsciously, letting the warm metal slide into your mouth. you groan at the sour, sweet taste of you on your tongue, and drop your jaw to make way for the smooth surface of the gun. “suck. clean it up. lick it till it’s spotless.”

you frown at him, but he responds by shoving it further in, and you gag around the barrel. “i said, suck.”

like a cock, like his cock, you bob your head up and down the shaft of the gun barrel, taking all of it down your throat. you taste yourself, along with the tanginess of warm metal, melting together in your mouth, metallic and sour and disgusting, and yet you can’t seem to disobey. can’t seem to stop, or falter. because to you, right now, disobeying roy is so much more terrifying than the gun in your mouth.

and he’s looking at you, really looking at you, a cross between some kind of admirer and a predator, wanting to consume you whole but savour it, mesmerise the curves of your body as he tears it apart. love as consumption, love as violence.

“wanna fuck you on my cock,” he hisses, pulling the gun out of your mouth. “gonna let me? let me into your little princess cunt?”

your lips part in a soft gasp as he drags the bulge of his pants along your bare clit. “yes,” you answer, eyes fluttering shut. “please?”

roy looms over you, his figure hulking and dark. he tips your chin up with a single finger, his gaze so intensely sharp you feel it penetrating through your lungs, scuttling between your ribs. and then he goes soft, dips his head down to press his lips to yours ever so sweetly, groaning the tangy taste of yourself on your tongue.

“give you what you want,” he grunts as he pulls away, hands unbuckling his belt, shucking it down just enough to free his cock. “gonna give my girl what she wants.”

his girl. if there was still any fight left in you after the last ten minutes it’s completely withered away now, the words burning through your torso and flicking out at the tip of your cunt. “your girl?” you ask, dazedly.

“my girl,” he repeats, pulling out his cock. your breath hitches as he lets it free, springing up thick and fat, a pretty shade of pink. the tip of it is bruisingly red, oozing precum in globs of pearly white, and he steps closer to you, scooping you into his arms. “my best girl.”

a whine climbs through your throat and tears out of your mouth. best girl. you aren’t, could never be, not with the lingering scent of kerosene in the room, almost forgotten in your haze to feel him moving inside of you. you aren’t good, nowhere near the best. but in this dingy, dim-lit room, your panties tucked in his pocket, your superior’s cock bumping clumsily against your slick covered folds, he’s convinced you're the best girl in the world.

“let me in,” he all but begs, pushing closer. your hand slithers down two where you are about to meet, angling his cock for him. his hands are busy, one braced on the table, supporting himself, and the other wrapped around your back, keeping you close. “let me in, okay?”

the tip of his cock is excruciating. it’s fat, mushroom tip bludgeoning into the small slit of your pussy. you both groan, his forehead falling forward to press against yours as you work his tip into your cunt. “roy,” you whine, mewl, claw at his shoulders.

“i know, baby,” he grits his teeth, hand slipping to guide your hips further forward, tipping your back against the table. “open up for me— shit. you’re fucking tight.”

your back against the table, your legs hitched up against the edge, he manages to slip himself further into your tight heat, some kind of eminence in the way you both shudder and moan at the feeling of him stretching you out. “you’re so big,” you manage through muffled whimpers. your hands reach out for him, almost like you’re trying to grab him. “come— c’mere. roy. come—”

and he does, leaning over you and letting you wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. he chuckles. “just wanted to be near me, is that it princess?”

you whine an affirmative, and he places a wet kiss on your forehead. “are you all the way in?” you ask, eyes barely open enough to glance down to see for yourself.

“no,” the word makes your pussy clench tighter. he’s already nudging against the sweet spot of your gummy walls, already burning at the stretch of his cock in your pussy and he’s not even all the way in? you try valiantly to peer down where you are connected, where your poor, abused pussy is stretched out around the middle of his cock. “a bit more to go, okay?”

you nod, and he pushes, so fucking slow and steady until all of him is inside you, until you can feel him nudging against something deeper, sensitive. it feels like you’re suffocating, like you’re stuffed full of his cock; and you are. you are, stuffed to the brim, bursting at the seams. one move and you’re collapsing, falling apart, legs instinctively knocking together as you cry out.

“stop that,” roy snaps, and you feel a quick sear of heat against your thigh. just a small pinch of flame, enough to bring you back to your senses. “keep them spread. got it?”

“y-yes,” you answer shakily.

“yes who?”

your pussy tightens and he hisses, tapping your cheek with enough force that your neck whips to the side. “yes sir, yes sir,” you babble unconsciously. he flashes you a grin, a cheshire smile that you fell so infatuated with, and now it’s here in front of you, balls deep in your pussy. crazy how life turns out, you barely manage to think before he’s rearing back and slamming into your pussy again.

it’s calculated, the way he’s fucking into you, the tip of his cock ramming into your sweet spot again and again and again. he’s hammering at it, the cruel man, rutting in glee at the way you’re falling apart beneath him. your eyes are rolling back and hardly focused, glazed over with a sheen of ecstasy, and your jaw loose. he’s forcing small blabbers and whines and whimpers out of you with every malicious slam of his hips.

they’re earth-shattering. you’ve been fucked before, had men and women alike vy for your attention, but none have ever come close to the way roy mustang is fucking you right now. he’s so careful, so precise with the way he’s treating you, words soft and mellow, completely contradicting the rough, borderline torturous movement of his hips. “that’s my good fucking girl,” he whispers in your ear. “just lying there and taking it, huh?”

you feel something pressed to the side of your head. when your eyes come back into focus you glance to your left; the sheen of the metal gun greets you. the barrel pointed at the side of your head, roy’s fingers dangerously close to the trigger.

“go on,” he murmurs. “keep fucking my cock.”

you don’t dare disobey. his hips still slightly, continuing a shallow thrust every so often. you whine but oblige, backing your hips down to meet his hips. “sir, sir,” you whimper, tears springing into your eyes.

he tuts. “don’t you dare complain,” he hisses, shoving the tip of the gun harder against your temple. “keep fucking my cock or i’ll pull it.”

you know he’s bluffing. the safety’s on, and he would never pull the trigger on a colleague, on a friend. but it freezes in your heart, a small hand wrapped in ice twisting around your ribcage and squeezing. the thought of it terrifies you, but more than that it arouses you. the laying down of your life in his hands, trusting him not to pull it. it excites you, sends a reckoning through your bones. so you do what you’ve always done for roy mustang, and that’s obey.

you’re pathetic, hips dragging uselessly up and down against his cock. he’s nice enough not to sneer at you, pathetic pussy half decent at swallowing his cock, because you’re so goddamn tight, so goddamn beautiful. half of him wants to drop the mean demeanour, just shower you in as much affection as he can. but the other, more rational part of him knows; you need to be taught a lesson.

“that’s it,” he smiles. “my little arsonist finally doing something good for once. think i fucked the lesson into you yet? think you can be a good girl now?” he takes you by surprise and shoves himself inside you down to the hilt, watching the way your tits jiggle under your uniform, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. “or do i have to cum in you, leave a little reminder?”

you shudder at his words, eyes going wide. god, god, he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, saying what you’ve always imagined him to say. suddenly, you’re begging again. words muffled, eyes glassy with tears. “cum in me,” you beg. “cum inside, knock me up, please.”

“yeah?” he muses. “need a constant reminder of how to be a good girl? a little life time punishment, give you a little baby? maybe that way you'll have to stay with me,” he’s growing restless too now, thrusts messy. “god, you know i’ll give it to you. c’mon. beg for it.”

you look up at him through the tinted glass of your tears. crystalline pearls running down your face as you beg, “please, plea— holy fuck, yes, right there! roy, roy please knock me up, please cum inside!” you’re not even caring, not even half awake to realise that your own orgasm is creeping up on you. the tightness in your abdomen, the sudden urge to—

“i need—” you gasp when you realise. “i need to go.”

“go?” he slurs, pussydrunk on your sloppy, gooey pussy. “go where, baby?”

“no,” you shake your head vehemently, taking the palm that holds the gun in both of yours, the gun clattering to the table as you guide him to your navel. “i have to go.”

his eyebrows pinch for a second before he realises. “you need to go.” he looks down now, at his hand hovering above your navel, your palms so much smaller in comparison to his. roy looks back up at you, something malicious flickering in his eyes before you feel his hand cover your tummy, and pushing.

the gasp that bubbles past your lips is criminal. the way your body reacts is almost primal, bucking into his arms, back arching. “roy, roy, stop—”

“hold it, okay?” he whispers, pushing a little harder. the pressure is insane, dizzying to you. “don’t you dare piss on me.”

“roy—”

“wrong name, baby.”

“sir,” you almost squeal, the combined force of his heavy thrusts and the pressure on your navel impossible to tolerate. you’re trying to reconcile your senses, trying to hold it as much as you can but it’s no use. “i have to, i have to go.”

“gonna piss on me?” he’s rough now, slamming his hips into you with a lewd slapping sound of his pelvis against your ass. “gonna wet yourself like a little untrained puppy? i thought you were my good fuckin’ girl.”

“it hurts,” you whimper. “can’t hold it, can’t.”

“just a little more,” he coos at you, relishing in the way your face pinches, genuine desperation painting your cheeks. “just hold it a little more, okay? you can do that, can’t you?”

you want to shake your head no. but if there’s anything that you’ve learnt tonight it’s to obey roy mustang. so you do, holding as he continues the torture on your cunt. his hand leaves your navel, coming down instead to toy with your puffy clit, sore and neglected. you bite your lip, muffling the whimpers that threaten to betray you as he rubs a slow, torturous circle against you.

“hold. it.” he says one more time, and you can’t listen, can’t obey. not with his fingers speeding up, rubbing your clit with precise movements. not with his cock buried inside of you, pressing against spots you never even knew anyone could reach, before pulling back and slamming into you at a pace that makes you dizzy. all of it, all of it is so much.

and when you cum, you cum hard.

the pressure on your bladder releases as you cum, your stream gushing out as your cunt tightens around his cock. a loud moan claws through your throat, head tipping back as he fucks you through it, the wetness and sloppiness additional lube to ease the chase of his own high. it’s messy, wet, disgusting; and roy’s looking at you like you hung the moon.

“pissed all over me,” he snarks, and you can only whimper, the aftershocks of your orgasm still catching up to you. your mind’s a haze, clouded over with the wet, warm feeling of liquid pooling under your ass, on his pants, all over the both of you. “couldn’t even listen to simple instruction.”

“i tried,” you beg. “please— i’m sorry.”

sorry. that’s new. that’s something he’d never heard from you. an apology, and a genuine one at that; or as genuine as a post-cumming apology can be, with his fat cock still inside you. it rears something in his head, a flame igniting. “i’m gonna fuck you now,” he whispers. “gonna use you ‘til i cum inside you. wanted me to knock you up, right?” he pants, head dropping to rest against yours. “tell me again. tell me where you want it.”

“inside,” you breathe, your mouth hanging open. he pants into your mouth and you want to swallow him whole. “want your cum i’side.”

“gonna give it to you,” he whimpers. he’s close, so close.

“sir,” you whisper. “roy.”

“yeah?” he strains.

“i—” you begin, but it gets caught in your throat, with a particularly strong thrust into you, pushing past the limits you didn't even know could be reached. your words are swallowed by his kiss, a desperate press of his lips to yours as he reaches, chases, grasps his orgasm. and it’s you, wrapping your legs around him and sighing, that push him over the edge.

it’s blinding, the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you as he cums. his cum is warm, thick, and you can feel it filling you up slowly. “oh my god,” you whimper. “yes, yes.”

“take it,” he grunts, shoving himself further into you. “take it, take it.” and don’t waste a drop, he can’t find the tongue to say.

you hold each other as you come down from your high, breathing and panting heavily. your foreheads are pressed against one another, and it’s like now that his balls are emptied in your womb, all sense and sensibility come flooding back. his brain’s finally the one in charge, and yet he doesn’t want to leave.

but despite himself, he has to. for his job, his country. “baby,” he whispers softly, after a few minutes. “what were you doing here?”

you don’t want to answer. you wish, wish to whatever deity is looking down upon you now will show you mercy, swallow you whole into the ground. but nothing changes, and he’s just looking and you and looking at you. you don’t know how to answer.

“were you,” he begins. “going to set it on fire?”

“just this room,” you promise quickly, sitting up to grab at the lapels of his coat. “leave my uniform and shoulder marks, produce a corpse.” he looks at you, pity stirring in his dark eyes. “run away.”

from you.

“i can’t, roy,” you beg him to understand. to acknowledge you beyond pity, but as a person. “i can’t serve as an alchemist anymore. not when i have blood on my hands.”

“you don’t—”

“i do,” you plead. “i took an oath to protect and i ended up killing.”

“for the sake of amestris.”

“for the sake of the führer,” you bludgeon on. “for whatever stupid reason he had to attack that innocent town. they didn’t have to die, roy,” you’re on the verge of tears, and he drops everything to hold you now, scoop you into his big, big arms. “i want— marcoh left, so many others resigned, why can’t i?”

you grieve for a life lived disillusioned, a state that promised you success and made you kill for it. you grieve for a hand that has touched blood, spilled blood. you grieve not only for who you were before this, but who roy was, who the other state alchemists were. you grieve for the people you were forced to eradicate, a city turned to dust in just days. the ishval civil war changed you, changed everyone, and you needed out.

roy holds you as you cry, lets a few of his own tears fall as he listens to you. the wreckedness of your voice, the hoarse throat; roy never believed in higher powers, but he calls on them now to keep you safe, to keep you healthy and strong, and to never let you cry these crystalline tears ever again.

“go,” he whispers. “i’ll handle the rest.”

you still. look up at him. “what?”

“i said, go.” he can’t look you in the eye, focusing instead on his gloved hand, and what he was about to do. “promise me you’ll be safe.”

divine intervention. a way out. an escape. “you…”

“major,” he begins. “it was a pleasure serving with you.”

roy turns to look at you one last time, onyx eyes soft and mellow, brimming with glassy tears. you can see the way his lip trembles, aches to feel yours one last time. “likewise,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. “it was a pleasure, colonel.”

he watches in silence as you hop off the table, leaving your uniform and your marks on the ground, amidst the puddle of kerosene on the other side of the room. watches as you soak them up, and look at him. “you don’t have to,” you start, your voice wavering.

“it’ll happen anyway,” he laughs, but there’s a hesitance, a reluctance behind it. “i said it once, i’ll say it again. i got your back.”

you give him a watery smile. “thank you, roy.” there’s a moment of silence, a beat passing between the two of you. you know time is not, has never been, on your side, and it doesn’t let up, not even in this moment. your goodbyes have to be quick.

so you take a small step forward towards his unmoving figure, and reach up on your tiptoes. he doesnt move, just holds his breath, and you kiss him. sweet, genuine, melting. your lips are soft, bruised a little from your previous interaction, but he savours it all anyway. the way you gasp when he kisses you back, planting his hands against the small of your back to bring you closer. the sway of your body in his arms. the way you hands slip into the divots of his coat, clutching it like a lifeline. he drinks it all in, and knows this is the last time he will see you, kiss you, touch you.

i love you, he wants to whisper, desperately, clinging onto you. i love you, i love you, i love you.

but he doesn’t. he lets his lips and his hands speak those words, flood out of his fingertips like waves crashing upon a shore. don’t leave me, please.

but you do. you have to. your mind’s made up, and when you part, he can see the hesitance on your face fade. “i'm sorry,” you whisper. "goodbye."

and before he can whisper goodbye back, before he can convince you to stay one more moment, you twist out of his grip and climb out the way you came from. you don’t stop to look back. you don’t stop, and before long, you’re a shadow in a sea of static, blending in with the night.

behind you, central library roars to life. more than just the room you’d doused in kerosene, you’re sure. the size of the fire is terrifying to witness, plumes of smoke rising to the sky. you can hear the shouts of agony, of worry, the sound of the city waking up to its newest accident. but you’re long gone.

amestris has crumbled before you. life long dreams shattered, the pursuit of happiness ending in the path to disillusion.

there’s a piece of paper in his coat pocket. roy pulls it out, words illuminated by the bright flames.

eastern desert.

a sudden knowing. another door open. he smiles.

he tosses the paper into the fire.

#reposting bc it didn't show up in tags last night lmfao #still on break just wanted to post this #roy mustang x reader #roy mustang #roy mustang smut #roy mustang x you #fmab smut #writing tag #tw.gunplay #tw.watersports #tw.babytrapping

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andiitom · 3 years

Text

WARNING: use of swear words

note: for my curly cuties 💙

LUCIFER

He claims to know everything about humanity and their trends but he a damn lie he hasn't been up stairs in a 1000 years.

He’s always making snarky comments to mc about their hair being “unkempt” so when mc came home with BAGS full of hair products he had to make his opinion known.

“Are these things that necessary, Mc? Look at my hair all I use is water and shampoo”

“Is that why it looks like dog fur?” oop-

For the longest time he thought Mammon let his hair do whatever and thought he was just buying things just to spend money again.

But after watching mc do their hair he can admire mc's effort they put into doing their hair.

So one day Mc comes back to HOL a basket full of hair stuff, they really meant just to get Night Motomuni Hair Cream but got anything but that.

They went up to Lucifer as Mammon disappeared on them while they were out

"Yo Luci, Mams ditched me come help?"

Didn't try attempt to hide his smirk, "Oh but of course mc"

He was a bit overwhelmed when they dumped the contents of the bag on the counter.

Lowkey gives the best head massages. He had mc falling asleep in the sink.

Then they got to the detangling part and mc thought they mama was bad. He had that GRIP on their head.

"LUCIFER!"

"I'm not even doing it that hard"

Mc swears the got a bald spot now because of him.

Yo but when Mammon came home he was cracking up when he saw the amount of hair Lucifer 'combed' out.

"HAHA I don told you not to go to him! he snatched the shit outta ya head huh?"

"He aint have to do me like that..."

MAMMON

Now that's a black king right here

I'm tired of people saying the only things Mammon's good ar is eat hot chip and lie.

He's traumatized by Lucifer heavy handed ass so he started silk pressing his hair.

Was elated when he heard mc was looking hair product recommendations.

"Of course the GREAT MAMMON will help!"

He was scared the first time mc let him help. Like I said Lucifer put the fear of their father into him.

"Mams you can be a bit rougher."

After every pass-through of the comb he'd kiss the top of their head.

He a real one as he goes out and buys mc a bunch of bonnets and durags.

Mammon even goes out of the way to ask if Simeon and Diavolo want to join. cuz lord knows Simeon got them dead ends and Dia got that heat damage.

LEVITHAN

First mistake was going to Levi it was whole a struggle. When he came back to he was first date type nervous.

Got flashbacks to Lucifer when did their hair when he dry comb them lol.

"BOY!"

"🥺"

Instead of using the metal comb he used a blow out brush while it was on the highest setting. Mc almost killed him.

Purposely yanks mc hair just for them to yell at him, but stops when they threatened to go to someone else.

On the other note he be doing the hell out of mc's hair, like who's hair is he parting? Whomst edges do he be laying?

Always putting mc's hair into anime inspired looks from Sailor Moon to Goku

Also all the Ruri-chan hair clips he got mc, and he got a nose bleed when you wore the devil horn clips Asmo go for them as a joke.

Mc almost died when he called a bonnet a 'bedtime hat'

Then when he learned how to braid he had mc done in about 40 mins. I swear it's them gamer hands be hittin different.

SATAN

Like father like son, he always has something to say.

"All you need is water mc"

Then he stared reading up on the different types of hair and now he's around every corner telling them how to care for their OWN hair.

"I noticed you used hair oil this morning Mc. You know they only way your hair down."

"Hm.. you seem to be doing something wrong Mc your hair is prickly it should be soft."

So when it came to wash day everyone was busy except for Satan...

When they offhandedly asked he had the biggest grin of his face.

It was mostly mc doing the work with Satan nagging that they was doing it wrong.

"Here mc let me do it"

Then he tried to brush from their scalp and promptly broke the poor comb.

"It's obviously your hair! you need to keep up on brushing it out."

Mc was contemplated what type of sentence they'll get if they killed an avatar of sin

After the disastrous wash day Satan put his pride aside and went and asked Mammon on what he did wrong.

Yo his reaction when he learned that he was the wrong one.

So when the next wash day came.

"Your hair looks dry Mc I can tell you didn't oil your hair" boy why I outta-

He for some reason good at finger waves.

ASMODEUS

Many might think he was the best person to go to, he doesn't know squat. The only experience he has with curly hair is Mammon, and that's only when mammon needs help pressing it.

He never really seen anyone around the Devildom with curly hair but he's willing to learn.

He's made an extensive list on all the products they use so when the two go shopping they'll make a stop by the beauty supply store.

"But it's so expensive Asmo"

"Why not thought? Lady Bootiyay only restocks every 100 years!"

"Hm that you mention it"

Loves doing intricate hairstyles mostly for the devilgram

"Say cheese mc! #myhardwork #Washday"

Always sealing your stuff and blaming it on Beel, mc knows he's lying because they can smell their moroccan oil shampoo

Buys durags and bonnets of pictures only and will through a fit if he catches you wearing them for any other reason.

"Mc you're stressing me out! your hair is frizzy and we got plans"

BEELZEBUB

When he destroyed mc's wall during is pudding tantrum he ate all of their hair creams.

"WHO STOLE MY HAIR MAYO!?"

"...That wasn't for making sandwiches?

Mc has to hold themselves back when they catch him using their hair oils for atual cooking

Mc has to keep him infront of them at all times when he helps them wash their hair. why? as stated above.

Has come close to eating mc on occasion.

"But you smell so good!"

He loves getting them silk scarfs especially ones that match his hair color.

BELPHEGOR

"Why did I ask Belphie of all people" is the thought going through mc mind rn.

Thought he was trying to kill them again cause he fell asleep while holding their head under the faucet.

Mc asked him if he could put the hot comb on the stove for them and when they came to get it found him sleeping on the stove with the comb in his hand.

Mc has banned him from helping them cuz everytime he helps it always ends with them getting hurt.

He also a stealer of bonnets when it's mc turn to do the laundry they can normally find 5 ro 20 of their missing bonnets.

#obey me!#obey me brothers #obey me fluff #shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #📋🍭#📋#🍭

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mar-iiposa · 3 years

Text

prompt: the boys somehow get into a tickle fight with their crush (not s/o yet), and when they ask "what's the magic word?" when asked to stop, the reader confesses their feeling for them and soon realizes afterwards

a/n: didn't know if you wanted this as a story or headcanon, so I'm turning this into a headcanon if that's alright ! also, I love this headcanon, it's so cute :')

warnings: none, just some fluff and a small innuendo !

Leonardo

you're on your phone, lying on leo's bed, peacefully scrolling through your app, pinterest.

you back and feet were really killing you.

leo needed to meditate a bit after some patrol. he and raph had gotten into a heated 'discussion' while roaming across rooftops above ground, he didn't care for the arguments that sometimes ensued between the brothers.

your eyes flicker up at him and offer a closed-mouth smile, "you alright?"

leonardo gives you a silent nod, elbows on his knees after sitting on the navy blue comforter, once he hung up his katanas to the wall.

"what are you looking through?" he peeks over at your phone's screen. you're staring back at your phone, eyes glued to the device.

"oh, I dunno. just some pins I think are nice. you know, pictures for fashion ideas, decor, skateboarding, whatever I like on here."

"any ideas for hanging out with your favorite person?"

you grin at him, "I haven't thought about that yet."

"well I've got ideas on 'how to entertain your best friend.'"

"really, huh?"

"yeah, this for example." he snatches the phone from the grip of your hand, tossing it to the other end of the bed and out of your nearest reach, confusing you.

until you get the memo when he starts to attack your sides, throwing you into a frenzy of giggles.

"le- leo! stop, I'm not kiddi—OH MY GOD!"

he's got a pleased smile all over his face right now, grinning as his fingers moved against your ribs.

although he would have enjoyed much different scenarios of holding you by your waist, this was his favorite by far, even so that you're just platonic friends as of right now.

"ple- PLEASE let go! let me go!"

decided on teasing you further, he leaned down to the side of your face, just beside your ear, having you pinned down under him,

"what's the magic word, princess?"

you're distracted by his hands trailing up and jumping towards your neck, you're squirming at the fun yet painful sensation.

"I love you! let me go!"

the leader's hands stop at your request, so you think. but really, it was the confession that made him quit the playful act.

"alright. I'll be over there, in the Hashi, so."

you smiled at him, the corners your e/c eyes crinkled, "okay."

"okay."

wait a fucking minute--

Raphael

okay so,,

he really loves to tickle you.

like, he REALLY fucking loves to tickle you.

currently, you're trying your best to fall asleep and take a nap. It's been a rough, stressful day enough, and you needed to wind down for a good forty minutes.

"can't sleep?"

you shook your head from side-to-side, opening one eye to look over at raph.

"yeah, can't."

there's a small minute of pure silence, and to your frustration, raphael notices the sour expression crossing you.

and out of completely nowhere, you feel his touch on you.

you spend no time in jolting up from the couch, yelping immediately.

"raph! sto- sto- hAH! sto-OP I-IT!"

"you said you couldn't sleep. so I'm doin ya a favor."

this fucker is trying to make you tired.

"I didn't a-ask for a- ! RAPH!"

he's totally grinning down at you, with a playful glint in his eyes.

HE JUST WILL NOT STOP.

"what's the magic word, doll?"

"I luh- H AH! I LOVE yo-HU!"

he smiled in complete awe now, though, he kept on going. even if you just confessed your love to him, he had no mercy at all.

"oka- oka-HEY! I'M GONNA PISS MYSELF!"

after a good while after hearing that, he quickly pulls his hands away from you.

you catch your breath, panting to yourself.

"did I make ya tired now?"

"yeah, will that be the only time though?" you playfully wink.

Donatello

both of you are in his lab. you're totally bored.

although at times you were a science type of person, you could get bored very easily.

or distracted.

like now.

you get up from your seat behind donnie, touching some of the past projects he had previously worked on before.

"don't touch that please, hon."

you were bored. incredulously bored. But even though you listened to him and obeyed him as your dear, best friend,

you didn't give a fuck right now.

you're his friend. it was sort of your job to bug and joke around with him.

you continue touching some of his belongings, still trying to be careful with objects you knew could be potentially harmful to you and the others.

"I wonder what this thing doe--"

"I told you to stop touching things, y/n."

without warning, you felt the tips of his fingers rake across your sides at a fast pace. you wriggle in his grasp, leaning forward.

you roar into multiple fits of laughter, your face growing a hot, bright red.

"oh m- Donnie! Don- Donni-! I'll stop, I'll sto--! HAHA! PLEASE!"

he's amused now, seeing you this way. why hadn't he tickled you this much before?

"will you stop touching my things then? hm?"

"y-yES!"

"what's the magic word, y/n?"

"I don--! I dunno- HAH!"

"oh, yes you do."

"I lo-! I love you!? I'm so- soh- soRRY!"

he picks you up, setting you back down onto your seat.

the realization hit you. fast.

"you do, really?"

he has the biggest shit-eating, nerdy grin on his face right now.

Michelangelo

literal master of tickling.

seriously, he loves to do such tickle attacks on you when least expected.

but he never expected you to return them.

currently playing with a video game with his custom (cred to donnie) controllers, his tongue lazily stuck out, while his baby blue eyes glued to the screen, deep in focus.

"mikey? mikeyyyy!"

he doesn't respond, only acknowledging the game right now.

instead of his best friend.

you're about to leave when, suddenly, you get the greatest idea of all ideas.

no, you're not going to unplug the console.

quietly as you can be, you tip-toed behind him, his rough shell facing you.

you barely jump on him from behind, hands going to the crook of his neck, and your fingers start doing their thing.

he nearly throws the controller towards the wall, erupting into fits of giggles and laughter.

and without a second thought, mikey grabs you, switching to hover above you.

now it's his turn to tickle you.

so you're the new one dying of laughter.

"really, dudette? you thought you could outsmart me?!"

he loves seeing your smile while wiggling under his hold on you.

"mikEY! MICHAEL!"

hearing the use of the name "michael", he starts to tickle you even more.

"say the words!"

"n-! no-HOH!"

"sayy it!"

"I lov-! love you!"

"you love me? as a friend?"

he stopped tickling you instantly. and you sit up straight away.

you are as red as raph's own mask.

"uhm-"

"I love you too."

he's wiggling his "brows" at you, and you groan in annoyance.

you really did love this idiot.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Laisse tomber les filles 11

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon, possible untagged elements..

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Thank;s for all your patience on this series.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You just wanted it to be over. The suffocating silence had you paralysed against the seat as the two men roiled in mutual loathing. Lee kept a hand on the wheel as his other kept wandering close to your skirt. You were embarrassed at his lack of shame.

Then it started. The whole seat shook with each kick of Andre’s feet against the back as he stomped the leather like a child. Lee jolted and gripped the wheel with both hands as he glared at the rear view mirror. He growled and cleared his throat.

“Boy, you don’t want to do this,” he snarled, “right now, you got one maybe two charges. I don’t care how rich your daddy is, I can have you at the station for months if I wanna.”

“Blah, blah, blah, you’re just small time, buddy,” Andre hissed, “gettin’ your kicks with college girls. It’s you who should be sitting back here--”

“And what were you doin’, boy? Houndin’ the girl across campus like ya do,” Lee retorted, “I’m tellin’ you one last time to shut your mouth.”

“Lee, please,” you murmured, “I just… please, just let him go and we can… um, be alone.”

“Oh yeah, she sounds real excited for your fat ass,” Andre chuckled.

“Andre,” you turned to peek over the seat, “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help…” Andre jutted out his jaw and looked out the window, “...slut.”

The silence pervaded the car again. Lee’s breath gristled in his throat but he said nothing at his cheek twitched. You sat back and hugged yourself as you watched the road through the windshield. The tension strangled you and you just rocked as you wished for it all to be over. You wanted to go back to your dorm and hide under your covers.

The way ahead grew darker and while you weren’t familiar with much beyond the campus, it didn’t seem to be the way to the station. You glanced over at Lee and fidgeted. Trees rose around you and the land plateaued before a long bridge that stretched over a loudly flowing river.

Lee slowed and killed the engine. A shiver crept up your spine as you got a bad feeling in your stomach. You watched him climb out as his weight shook the car. You held your breath, time slowing as you held your breath and watched him open Andre’s door. It was the younger man’s huffs that brought you back to reality.

The sheriff dragged him out and they struggled as you pushed yourself across the seat and got out on the driver’s side. Lee fought with Andre as he angled him around to the railing of the bridge. You followed and saw the dark shadows of the crashing river as it dipped down into a dam.

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed onto Lee as he turned Andre to face the water, “what are you doing?”

“Now, honey, you go back to the car, you don’ need to be out here,” he elbowed you away, “I’m just teaching the boy a lesson.”

“Lee, please, let’s go--”

“Go back to the car now, dammit, woman,” he snapped and you flinched at his tone.

“Fucking pig,” Andre spat, “oh, I’m so afraid--”

“Uh huh,” Lee grumbled and bent and grabbed Andre’s legs. He thrust him up and over the rail, dangling him there as his cuffed arms bent awkwardly behind him, “y’aint scared, I see.”

“Hey, hey, let me up,” Andre demanded, “you fucking pyscho.”

“Now I just want you to think about how you talk to authority, boy,” Lee taunted, “lots more I could do than close you in a cell for the night and give a meal to tide ya over, don’t ya think?”

“You’re fucked,” Andre swore, “get me up.”

“I got no problem lettin’ you up, I just wanna hear it,” Lee snickered.

“Here what?”

“Here you beg,” Lee sneered, “just like this girl’s gonna be beggin’ for me and not you--”

“Lee,” you uttered in shock.

“Honey, now, I won’t tell ya again--”

Lee stumbled back and his arms flew out as he tried to catch himself. You heard Andre scream and ran up to watch him plummet down into the depths, legs flailing and crashing with a terrible splash. You gasped and covered your mouth as he dissipated into the black waves.

“Shit,” Lee grumbled as he stood and came up next to you, “I told ya go back in the car, distractin’ me like that.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed, “ain’t ya a good girl? You know how to listen, don’t ya?”

“Andre,” you tried to shrug the sheriff away, “is he--”

“Even if his head still in one piece, he got them hands tied,” Lee tutted, “goddamn accident like that, tragic thing.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you hang him--”

You were stunned as Lee shot his hand up to grip your chin. He forced your mouth closed and pushed you against the rail as he closed you in with his size. He glared at you in the shadow of his headlights, “what are you sayin’, girl? You talkin’ back to me?”

“Please--”

He pressed his finger to your lips and shushed you, “please, nothing, honey. This is your fault. That boy be back on his feet if you weren’t out her naggin’ me. You aint my wife yet.”

“Lee--”

“Sir,” he corrected you and poked his finger into your mouth, “now, they gon find that boy and they’ll call me and I’ll make sure they don’t get a whiff of us. You know kids, into weird things these days, always where they don’t belong.”

You blinked at him as your eyes glossed and pushed another finger into your mouth and hummed, “well, looks like we can get on with our date, honey pie.”

📚

It wasn’t until the lights of the city blurred your tears that you realised you were crying. You were horrified by the man beside you and yourself. You kept seeing Andre falling, hearing his scream, hearing the sharp splash against the water. You imagined the way his bones would’ve cracked and his lungs would fill as he was helpless to escape the flow of the river.

When the car stopped, you winced and Lee grabbed your hand as it balled tightly in your lap. He pried your fingers open and laced his between them.

“Honey pie, I’m sorry I spoke to ya like that,” he purred, “it was only… I was worried for ya. I didn’t want ya to see all that. Just tryna protect you and all that.”

“Can you take me home--”

“Home? Is that small room really a home, honey?” he shifted closer to your on the street and caressed your cheek, “you seen my home, our home. I wanna share it with you.”

“I got school,” you wisped weakly as he let go of your hand and slid his arm over your shoulders, “I can’t--”

“What you learnin’ in that school? You don’t need none of it. History? You can read at home.”

“But I… worked so hard. I wanna learn--”

“Let’s not talk about this right now, honey pie,” he cradled your chin, “it’s been a long night.”

You looked down, too hollow to argue. You didn’t want to marry him, at least you didn’t think you did. You still had another three years of school at the end of the semester and you enjoyed your classes. You might be alone but you weren’t lonely.

“So, you read some?” he asked as his thumb tapped on your chin.

“Yes,” you said quietly, “a little.”

“That first chapter,” he said as he pressed your lip down, “you wanna try some of that?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped. You looked out the window and realised that you didn’t know where you were. You could push him away and climb out but you wouldn’t know where to go from there. And you couldn’t do all that. You were trapped.

“Sure,” you replied and kept from sobbing, there was no other answer he would accept.

“Alright,” he pulled away and stretched his arms across the seat, “like I said, honey, you take the lead.”

You gaped at him and felt his gaze in the dim. The headlights were off and you heard the distant sound of tires. You were all alone in the heart of the metropolis. You rubbed your hands together as you hesitated.

“Your mouth, honey pie,” he breathed, “I been thinking about it all day.”

You remembered the opening scene in the book, the explicit descriptions of the sloppy mess of the act. You inhaled deeply and told yourself not to be you, be the woman in the book, be Delilah, the temptress.

You reached for Lee’s fly before you could snap back to doubt and fear. You tugged at his belt clumsily as your hands shook and you pushed down his zipper. You felt him harden beneath his pants as you did and you sucked in a lungful of air.

Your lips quivered as he groaned and tilted his hips. You pushed his fly open and reached into his briefs. You gripped him and gasped.

“That’s all for you, honey pie,” he purred, “see what you do to me?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t find your voice in your tight throat. You licked your lips and braced yourself for what you were about to do. You’d come this far, there was no turning back.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #laisse tomber les filles #the devil all the time #au #college au

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tatney · 3 years

Text

saw first time viewing livewatch thoughts

* adam is so transgender <3

* oh so the quality of my ill eagle copy isn’t that bad it’s just that the lights were off lol

* his name is lawrence gordon. he’s a DOCTOR

* mr elwes sir please stop mumbling my autistic ears cannot hear your

* MR FAULKNER STANHEIGHT IS A WHOWERE. WHY DID YOU SHOW HIM YOUR TIT

* aha lawrence is t posing :)

* adam. my widdle boy

* lawrence telling him to take his shirt off 👀

* GSMSHSKWYKSBSKSUWLHD JOHN IS SUCH A BITCH

* I KNOW EVERYONE IN THE FANDOM CALLS ADAM PATHETIC BUT GOD

* john mulaney hmm gross!.jpeg

* okay but i WOULD have checked under the toilet lid first. the things you’ll do for an older man 😔

* these two are so bad at playing catch. the kids who didn’t run the mile representation

* if i could see cary elwes’ eyebrows better i’d find him s*xier

* JOHN KRAMER I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF. I HATE THIS MAN I CANNOT STAND THIS MAN

* so the editing really IS like that huh

* yes he IS a murderer you stupid son of a bitch. there is no “technically” about it you fucking idiot

* we’ve got two bitches from lost my beloved :)

* THAT’S THE PRESIDENT FROM THE BLACKLIST TOO

* all of sing’s clothes are too big for him. small man :)

* MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY MANDY

* PLEASE GOD I LOVE HER I LOVE HER SO FUCKING MUCH I’LL CRY

* i knew that the editing was like THAT but not that MUCH ya know goddamn

* oh a giallo style shot. lov that <3

* MISS SHAWNEE SMITH DESERVES EVERY AWARD ACTUALLY

* motherfucker on his liddol tricycle

* i would piss on that fucking puppet

* futurama they must learn our peaceful ways by force.jpeg

* that’s just john’s vibe

* i wonder how much of saw inspired the batman arkham games thinking emoji

* how am i only half an hour way through

* tbh i want this kid’s duvet not kidding

* girl you in DANGER

* and i want that big snake :)

* HE’S NOT PLAYING THIS LITTLE PIGGY. NOT IN A MOVIE WHEREIN PEOPLE DON PIG MASKS BC THEIR REPRESENT REBIRTH AND PEOPLE ARE CONTINUOUSLY CUTTING THEIR FEET OFF. MR WHANNEL I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH YOU

* “she’s beautiful” he’s taking about the dog BSBNSYSLAYSLSBLSU

* “where’s the. uh lucky wife” and you mean to tell me that adam isn’t a homosexual when he looks at lawrence like that while saying this line

* “i’m always missing from the photos” oh sir i’ve been on saw tumblr just you wait for the dramatic irony to hit just you WAIT

* oh god i though jigsaw wrote a slur in there good GOD

* very billy from black christmas vibes, harold finch from person of interest :)

* excuse me mr tapp but who’s amy and why do you have her starbucks order

* OOOOOOOHHHH FUNKY TRANSITION

* james wan you are such a KING

* “who said anything about a warrant?” sir that’s illegal

* sir that’s breaking and entering

* sir that’s a LOT of paperwork that you won’t be able to complete bc you’ll be dead soon but STILL

* did jigsaw plan on lawrence wearing blue or was that a funny coincidence lol

* john’s wearing his bathrobe

* HIS ASSASSINS CREED BATHROBE HOLY SHIT

* ooh slidey door. wonder if there’ll be more of those later on teehee hoo hoo

* somebody show tapp the “that’s not your depression bed; that’s your nest omega” tiktok and see if that does anything

* “what do you want me to do? i’m on a leash” DOGBOY ADAM DOGBOY ADAM DOGBOY ADAM

* “you wanna put something in this room in your mouth?” “YES!!!!!!” are these lines from fanfiction verbatim

* adam you’re so fuckin stupid why would you spy on a man but keep the flash of your camera on

* OOOOOOOOOOH IT’S THE CINEMATIC PIG CARPARK SCENE

* “whatEVER” “i’m dealing with a juvenile.....” this is what happens when you have a sugar baby lawrence

* INFAMOUS ADAM GENDER SMOKING FAKE DEATH BREAKDANCE SCENE LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO

* little dogboy twink photographers have me in a perpetual chokehold they really do

* i mean he’ll waste a lot of film but. okay i guess this is a horror movie after all gsmshsksynbsmahsp

* BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR GAY LITTLE PUPPET WITH MY BAT

* oh adam really is serving jonathan byers teas with the baseball bat and the camera as weapons. fuck

* cary elwes posh little accent coming THROUGH

* adam doesn’t make sense as cis man. he just doesn’t look at that man he’s so transgender

* ok but lawrence’s “mistress” is GORGEOUS actually omg

* i’m still gonna say that he’s gay tho. u can’t take that away form me lol

* adam’s wrists are so LIMP holy shit

* lawrence gordon classist moments

* mr elwes please control your accent sir i’m struggling not to laugh

* ok ally’s a girlboss then !

* michael emerson my beloved. when you try to be evil you have all the menace of a disgruntled bunny rabbit

* “lawrence get up! i need you!” now when you fuckers told me these two were gay you didn’t say THIS gay

* at least ally and diana are ok :)

* ok my headcanon is that lawrence is originally from england but was moved to america as a kid bc i need in contextual reasons for all of the accent slips that i can’t take seriously

* ADAM GIRLBOSS MOMENT

* “don’t worry i’ll bring someone back i promise” YOU LYING TRICK ASS MOTHERFUCKER I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF /j /affectionate

* at least john’s got that ARCH

* IT’S THE SCENE IT’S THE SCENE

* god that movie fucked. that movies fucked SO hard good god no wonder gay people love it

* ok i think that ill league gull copy broke my laptop lol

#BRO I’M SWEATING THAT WAS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT YEA #gonna try to fix my laptop now lol <33 #saw #adam faulkner stanheight #lawrence gordon #john kramer #amanda young #zep hindle #david tapp #steven sing #alison gordon #diana gordon #chainshipping #mine #long post #ns/fw #i haven’t gif a clue what half of this says but <3 #*got i haven’t GOT a clue #if you got this far. i am high-fiving you and interlocking our fingers <3

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jayankles · 3 years

Text

The Culmination: Endgame

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2362

Summary: Y/N doesn’t feel so good and it’s not like her to not answer the phone to Sebastian. He was right to send over Josie, Y/N’s friend, over to find out what’s wrong.

Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut, Fluff

Written for: @anyfandomangstbingo | @anyfandomfluffbingo | @anyfandomgoesbingo

Squares Filled: Sick fic | first time | “I really don’t like doing this over the phone”

A/N - Blake Lively is not a representation of the reader; it’s just for the dress. And the other beautiful woman is exactly who I pictured for Josie.

Feedback is gold and appreciated

Of course, you were sick today. The day that Sebastian had told you that he was to take a day at the gym then spend it with Don. You knew that when you woke up this morning it wasn’t going to be a good day, the cold sheets a little foreshadowing of how your day would have gone. The little guttural feeling you had punching you in the gut right now, it had you on the floor, bent over the toilet seat with your head in the bowl.

You felt awful. Unable to move, unless it was your throat spasming. Definitely the worst day so far, you couldn’t move and when you finally were able to move at all you felt like a robot. Not a good look.

You decided that it was time to head back to bed, none of your food would stay down so you made yourself a bottle of water and stumbled into bed with a bucket in your hand, ready to put the bucket on the floor beside your bed.

Pulling at the covers, you curled up under them and took a swig of your drink. Tears rolled down your face as you felt the pain grow stronger, you rubbed your stomach in hopes it would make you feel better; it didn’t.

All you could do was pray that you would fall asleep to not feel this pain anymore. Sleep evaded you. The pain is all there is that you feel. You threw up another three times before you finally succumbed to the pleasures of sleep. Rattling of keys had been the object that had drawn you out of your few moments of slumber. You didn’t dare move though, there was no point, you couldn’t move anyway.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?” It took you a minute to realise that it was your friend, Josie, shouting your name in hopes of finding you. “Y/N, Whe- There you are. What are you still doing in bed? Oh...”

She looked as if she sighed out a breath of relief before she retracted, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. Inhaling the stench of the room, she quickly ran out of there, returning with air freshener, spraying it around you to make her feel better.

“You need a bath, babe. Stay here and I’ll run you one. Of course you’re going to stay here, you poor thing.” Josie rambled, you stopped her before she could go on for another hour.

“Jo, pour some lavender in there. Love you.”

Freshly out of the bath after thirty minutes, you were wrapped up in Sebastian’s bathrobe, a reminder that he was home as it still smelt like him. “I hate feeling like this. It sucks. But I feel better already.”

Josie softly smiled at you, pity in her eyes. “Must have been that nap you took but I know it sucks. Could you imagine Seb with this kinda illness, though? It would be 100% worse just because it’s man flu.”

“Thank you for being here.” You said, taking a seat on the couch. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seb called, said he tried texting and video chatting you but you wouldn’t pick up. I guess he was right to have me come over and check on you.”

“He’s such a cutie.” You groaned as you walked, the bath only slightly relieving some of the pain.

“I know. It makes me wanna barf… not like you, though. That shit is nasty, no, thank you, ma’am.” She tutted through a pinched nose, reminding of just how gross you felt and smelt not even a mere hour ago.

“You’re a pleasure as always, Jo. Always so kind to me, when I feel like shit. Thank you.”

She shrugged knowingly, a smirk on her face as she reached forward for the remote, finding a music channel and turning it down a little so it faded into the background becoming nothing but white noise. “So do you know what brought this on? Eat some bad food?”

“I don’t think so, otherwise Seb would feel the same way right?”

“Well you aren’t pooping as well as being sick so this isn’t a viral or bacterial thing. You’re not burning up? No severe migraines?” She asked and you only had one answer.

“Nope. And no, my appendix hasn’t burst because I’ve already had it out.” You said, becoming tired again as you let out a yawn.

“Well, I think I might need to slip out for a little bit.”

“Why? Where are you going? I thought you were going to take care of me?”

“I am. I’m just gonna head to the store and grab you some stuff to make tomato soup. I’ll be twenty minutes tops.” Josie was true to her word, never taking more than the twenty minutes she promised. Putting the bag of groceries on the counter, Josie pulls out the contents, revealing the ingredients she offered to get for you but you could tell that there was something else in the bag.

“What’s in there?”

Josie was fidgety, her fingers twiddling together. “I need you to keep an open mind because I think I know why you’re grossly throwing up.”

“Hit me. I wanna know how I can feel better right now.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re sitting down because…” She paused, making a face that she knew you weren’t going to like. “Because I think you’re pregnant.” her face unchanging as she pulled out the pregnancy test.

Then it hit you.

No.No.No. Fuck!

Hands dancing.

Tongues twining.

Passion blooming.

It was everything you could have asked for when he was away but now that Sebastian was back, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. You covered every area of the apartment possible.

Oh crap.

“Fuck!”

“Yes you did.” Josie laughed at her own joke, the reaction not quite the same on your end.

“Oh god, Sebastian is going to kill me. He’s never going to want to talk to me. Why was I so stupid? Oh, I’m never gonna hear from him again. I’ll be kicked out. I’ll be a single mother. I’m gonna have to live with you and if I have this baby, you’re gonna hate me, then you’re gonna kick me out too. ”

Josie scoffed at you, helping you scurf back your hair away from your face, making you look into her wide eyes. “First of all, chill. I gotchu, you know I gotchu forever. Sebastian isn’t like that, but if he is you will never see him again and that is a promise and maybe a little bit of a threat. He’ll deserve it if he hurts you so. Just be my alibi if anything ever happens. Just go take the test. Negative? You’re just sick. Positive? You call Sebastian and you talk to him like an adult.”

“Why are you always right? Don’t you ever get sick of it?” You huffed before you smiled at her, squeezing at her hand after taking the small handful of the pregnancy test boxes back to the bathroom.

Five minutes passed and you were holding the peed on sticks in your hand, four out of five of them being positive. “I think I need to call Sebastian, and a doctor.”

After making an appointment with the doctor, you took a deep breath and pressed the button to call Sebastian. He picks up the call pretty quickly and you are not surprised.

“Y/N! Finally! Are you okay? What happened?”

“Hey bubba. I’m fine, just a little sickness. But I really don’t like doing this over the phone. When are you coming home. We need to talk.”

Two months later.

It was the night of the premiere of Avengers: Endgame and you couldn’t be more thrilled for the success that the Marvel Franchise had. It was 10 years of absolute lovable craziness. Thank you, Stan Lee.

You had no idea that you would be here on the aptly coloured, purple carpet with Sebastian after all you would have thought that you would still be with him after the whole pregnancy fiasco but the two of you were able to talk things through. Things were thrown, voices were raised, and tears were shed but still after all of that, Sebastian made the executive decision to calm the two of you down. The stress was no good for anyone at this point. You were both going to be parents; it’s what was established.

The two of you walked hand in hand, palms sweating as the cameras flashed, and photographers called out to each and every star that was involved in the production of Endgame. The culmination of the whole franchise was just so surreal, the fact that it was ending with a bang both made you swell with pride but it also made you a tad emotional because this collection of amazing characters wouldn’t continue but the legacy they left would. And that was what mattered.

“Sebastian! Y/N! Over here!” You heard from one of the interviewers, looking beautiful in her outfit, Sebastian rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, you were going to be okay. He was right there with you and you had done this a few times before. He was there for you.

“Hi.” “Hello. You and Sebastian answered at the same time, making the interviewer laugh.

“Wait, I remember you. I bought you a soup in a thermos and Tom gave you his jacket. I see we got lucky with good weather today, huh?” You said, smiling at her.

“Yes. You remember me?!” The woman turned to the camera looking right into the lens of it. “Guys, I’m fangirling so hard right now. Ah!”

Once the woman got her fangirling out of the way, she moved onto the interview, trying to get any information that she could before the movie premiered. Sebastian took over that one, telling her that there was no way that they were allowed to say anything about the movie other than he was dust.

“Now we’ve got that movie non gossip out of the way. Are you okay to talk freely about your pregnancy?”

You looked to Sebastian, it was his decision just as much as it was yours, you knew that Sebastian wanted to keep his private life separate from his professional acting career. “It’s okay, honey. Go ahead.”

“I think you’re good to go.”

“Thank you. I must say that you do look stunning in that dress.” She gushed, you thanked her, hiding your face a little. You loved this dress, the nude under layer and the little white and purple flowers that scattered across your dress, your bump barely visible through your dress.

“How far along are you?”

“Well, we’re in the first week of the second trimester. So I’m a little more confident when telling you that.”

“That’s amazing. Was the pregnancy planned at all?”

You made a face, sucking in a little air, looking to Sebastian for a little light to be shed on the situation. “Not at all. It was Y/N’s friend that actually realised that her morning sickness wasn’t her having the flu. She felt absolutely awful that morning, it was enough to know that it was bad when I tried to call her and I didn’t get an answer.

“We had our issues, you know, we didn’t know what to do, we're new at this. But I think that it’s important to know that you don’t abandon your family.” Sebastian softly smiled at you, subconsciously putting a hand on your slowly growing stomach. “I guess that is what this franchise is about though, right? It’s about family and- and looking out for one another. Everybody’s got a somebody here and I love that.”

“And Thanos, fucks it all up and snaps his goddamn fingers.” The three of you and the cameraman began to laugh at your little outburst about the mad, purple titan. “God, I can’t wait for the premiere tonight but I’m scared. For everybody. But especially for me, you know, I’m an emotional person anyway, add a hormonal woman to the mix and a whole lot of angst. Get my ice cream and tissues ready, because I’m coming for you, Thanos.”

“I heard that!”

“Love you, Josh. For the record, Josh is a nice guy, the character he plays is a big old sack of balls and I have no idea how he does it so convincingly.” Lovingly, you made eyes at Seb. “But it’s just like my Sebastian, a dark hydra assassin but in reality he’s a big ball of sunshine and goofiness. And I love him for it.”

“This is- this is what gets me.” The interviewer leaned in a little as Sebastian’s voice dropped to a slight whisper. “I know that she is going to be the best mom for our child because Y/N loves everything and everyone and that is a great quality to have but she’s also caring and matches my goofy side but her sass outweighs mine of course, no one can beat that.”

“Aww, he’s making me cry already. Seb,” you whined. “My makeup.”

“Well that's it folks.” The woman spoke, telling the audience that this was one of the cutest interviews that she had ever taken, that she could die happy and quickly saying congratulations before the two of you were whisked away to walk the carpet again and pose for pictures.

“You’re way too good to me, you know that right?” You said to Seb as you admired the sky blue suit he was wearing over his plain white tee. “I never even got to tell them that this baby will have the hottest dad in the world as well as the sweetest man. Thank you for being my baby daddy.”

Unbeknownst to you, the cameras had caught every single moment the two of you shared. The kisses you shared together, were now shared with the world, all over social media. At this point you didn’t care, you only cared about the man in front of you and the baby growing in your stomach. And this god damn movie!

Feedback is gold and appreciated

#anyfandomgoesbingo #anyfandomangstbingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x pregnant!reader #sebastian x pregnant!reader #mcu fic #rpf fic #sebastian stan fic #sebastian x reader fluff #queue you!#jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 2 years

Text

The Demons are Reminiscing ft. their just as unhinged Human

I actually went through “In Search of a Smile” the funniest part is that this was their first day at RAD where they killed someone

also @13daze hope you like it and this turned out to be more of simple sharing stories about the bad shit the Brothers and Mc did

Also also this 1142 Words long and ‘’ is for thoughts

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

‘Wonder where they are?’ I was walking through the House of Lamentation ‘I haven´t even seen one of them the entire day.’ I looked I through some rooms ‘Usually I would appreciate such a peaceful day but it can only mean trouble when they are so quiet.’

but just as I approached the Living Room I heard Mammon “’member when Beel ate that one Demon because he was annoying? Ya should have seen his buddies face!” “Well yeah I was pretty hungry.” I heard laughter at this

‘So they are just talking about old stories? that´s good.’ but just as I was about to turn around

“Ah Mc didn´t see you there.” of course Lucifer could see me ‘Or rather hear me.’

“Hey was just curious where you guys where hiding. Normally something happens when I can´t fin you.”

“Ah Mc where you finally worried about me~? I knew it would only take a little while before my Charm would get you” I laughed a little about Asmo´s remark “Nah just didn´t want to be the only one in trouble.”

I saw Asmo pout at this “We were just talking about old memories Mc, would you like to join us?” ‘Lucifer telling me to join them in a talk? Wow that´s rare.’ I smiled a little “Sure let´s see what you old guys have to say.” I sat besides Asmo

“Old?! Mc take that back!” Asmo was shaking me “No way you guys are old!” I started laughing “Mc… you´re so mean…” Asmo was doing crocodile tears again I grinned a bit ‘Pff! He knows they don´t work and he should have done a lot more if he wanted to be playful.’

“So what were you guys talking about anyway Lucifer?” I looked at him “As I said Mc we were talking about some of our Memories, you aren´t a squirmish Human right? Some of them can be quiet gruesome.”

I laughed “Believe me some simple stories won´t get me.” Lucifer looked at me “I hope you won´t regret this” he cleared his throat ti get the attention of his Brothers “Alright let me start.”

he needed a moment to think but soon started to smirk ‘If that´s how Lucifer looks now I already feel bad for that guy’ “I remember one of the latest meal of Cerberus.” I saw some of the Brothers look a bit interest “A Demon who taught he could go against Diavolo actually…” he looked at me

“He was opposed to the Exchange Program as well Mc.” I noticed some of the Brothers looking at me now ‘What do they want? Do they think I´ll react or something?’

“Huh really? Lucky he ended up as a snack for Cerberus! Who knows what I could have done” I laughed a bit but I also noticed Satan shake his head

“You´re hopeless Mc you know that right?” I grinned “Aww! And I thought this was all part of my charm.” this caused the others to laugh

“Mc this wasn´t even anything bad.” Satan looked at me “Do you want to know what happened to the Demon that tripped you?” I looked at Satan “You mean the one I was about to skin alive?” He seemed a bit surprised at my answer “I didn´t think you would remember.”

“Now thinking about it your plan of skinning them Alive would have been a lot cleaner, I couldn´t get the smell of burning flesh out of my clothes for a month.”

I felt Asmo tug on my shirt “This reminds me what we did to this group of Succubi & Incubi that insulted you” he hugged me and had to stop myself from laughing “Yeah! This was so funny when they noticed that this “weak little Human” as they called me easily ripped them to pieces!” Asmo pouted “Hey! I charmed them so they wouldn´t run away so where is my praise?” I hugged him “If I remember correctly you didn´t help me because you refused to get your clothes dirty.”

he looked annoyed “Of course I wouldn´t touch them! I just got them and didn´t even get the chance to take pictures!”

Mammon seemed annoyed that me and Asmo are so cuddly “Hey! Asmo back off will ya!” Asmo just ignored him “Oi!” he tried to get between us but Belphie interrupted “Hey Mc?” I looked at him “You should come sit with us.” I looked at Asmo for a moment surprisingly he let me go to sit between the Twins “So? Anything you two want?” Belphie smiled “Nah just wanted to annoy Mammon a bit.” Mammon looked insulted at this “Hey! What did I even do? And Mc how dare you go against me?!” I laughed “Mammon if you would just ask you know I would hug you.” he started to blush at this but didn´t say anything else

the next one who said anything was Levi ‘Wait was Levi the entire time here? Now I feel bad that I didn´t even notice him.’ I looked a bit upset at this but no one paid attention to me

“I have a story but I think I already told Mc?” I needed a moment to think but then- “Oh! Do you mean the one where you lost in a fan contest?” Levi smiled “I knew you wouldn´t forget Mc!” the others seemed intrigued “So what was this about?” Satan was the one to ask

“It wasn´t anything impressive lol! All I did was summon Lotan and flooded the convention center.”

Belphie leans his head on my shoulder guess he´s getting bored but this also cause Mammon to get pouty again “Oi! Mc you probably want to hear what the Great Mammon did last week right? Right?!” I had to hold myself from laughing ‘Yeah he totally isn´t desperate for praise.’ and before I could even say anything “Ya know there was this Demon that tried to trick me! And guess what I did Mc!?” I looked at Mammon ‘I know I shouldn´t give in but…’ I smiled “No idea Mammon.” he looked happy at this “Well the Great Mammon!-”

Mammon´s screaming cause Belphie to shortly wake up “Yesterday I tore a Demon in such small pieces no one was able to find them because they woke me up.” and he fell asleep again Mammon looks at him like he just insulted him ‘Guess this was that.’

Beel was actually last “I ate a fourth of the population of the Devildom once.” this caused the Brothers to quiet down a bit ‘Guess someone I have jump start the conversation now~’ I had a grin that they should already tell that I´m up to no good

“Wonder how you can stomach Demon Beel I recently tried Demon flesh and it doesn´t really taste well.” this caused the Brothers to look at me

“WHAT!?”

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mademoiselle-swan · 3 years

Text

KFC

The Constellation

Izuku stashes his goggles into one of the inner pockets of his trench coat and replaces them with a pair of stylish glasses, smirking slyly. “So… Compress, huh?”

Necchan nods. “He showed up at one of my heists two weeks ago and has been flirting with me every time we see each other ever since. You’ve got to like a man with that kind of confidence. It turns me on even now.” Izuku grimaces, he really did not need to know that. His auntie shot him a stern look. “Izuku, if you tell anyone about this, you can kiss that bike you want so much goodbye. Am I understood?”

Izuku bites the inside to stop himself from laughing at her flustered state. “Yes auntie.”

“Good boy.” Nemuri ruffles his hair and joins Compress who is walking a few feet ahead in the alley they’re in, looking over her shoulder at him and Miko. “I’m craving some fried chicken right now. Do you two mind picking up some takeout for everyone?”

“Not at all!” Chirps Miko, shaking a bit of goo off her foot as she pulls a shirt over her head. “Right Mind-nii?”

Donning a beanie, Izuku shrugs lazily as he pulls out a compact mirror and checks if his makeup still covers his freckles and if all of his hair is tucked into his hat, still high on adrenaline from his first successful heist. “Yeah, sure. Why not? I'm starving anyways.”

He barely has enough time to slip a chirurgical mask onto his face before Miko drags him towards the closest fast-food joint. Once there his best friend pushes the door open and strides towards the counter where she proceeds to rattle off their order with practiced efficiency.

Leaving her to it, Izuku glances around, spotting what seems to be the place’s only other customer. They’re sitting in a corner, practically swamped in a thick floor length jacket. It’s kind of strange because the temperature tonight, while chilly, is not nearly bad enough to require that kind of coat. However he can clearly spot the shivering wracking the person’s body so maybe they have some kind of ice or cold related quirk that has a side effect of making them constantly cold? Anyways, they’re also wearing a beanie and currently staring forlornly at the last piece of fried chicken in the cardboard box in front of them.

On a whim he turns back to the counter and cuts in, ordering an extra box of fried chicken.

It doesn’t take long for the food to be ready and as they head for the door, he strides over to the only occupied booth in the fast-food restaurant and plonks the extra box of fried chicken on the table. “Here. Have this. You look like you need it.”

Then they look up in shock, and he freaks out internally because he recognizes those eyes and holy shit it’s Hawks!

It’s Hawks! The number three hero! He just offered chicken to the number three hero!

He offers the man an awkward smile even though the man can’t possibly see it because he’s wearing a mask, panics some more, and runs out the door.

Miko glances at him, raising a brow as she adjusts her grip in the bags of takeout she’s holding. “What was that about?”

Izuku is hard pressed to stop the hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat. “I just gave Hawks some free KFC.”

“What?”

“I just gave the number three hero a free box of fried chicken.” He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before straightening his beanie. “Kami what the fuck is wrong with me? What if he recognized me? What if he took offence and is currently hunting me down to kill me–”

A hand ruffles his hair, displacing his hat again, and he scowls only to freeze when he hears a familiar chuckle, one he’s heard a thousand times on TV.

“Thanks for the chicken, kid.” Hawks drawls, amusement practically dripping from his tone as he bites down on a piece of said chicken.

“Shouldn’t you be more partial to raw meat?” He blurts out in an attempt to fight his embarrassment.

“Uh… what?”

“It’s just that generally mutant quirks based on birds of prey eat raw meat, like the Emblem Hero : Eagle from America, or the Snow Hero : Knightowl from Canada.”

Hawks rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Err, no I don’t eat raw meat. Sorry to disappoint, kid.”

He eyes the hero sceptically. “Really? Are you sure you’ve never felt the urge to eat some? Just think, is it because you don’t want to or because you’re not allowed to, that you don’t eat it?”

The fierce wing quirk user seems at loss for words and he takes his chance to hightail out of here.

Miko shoots him an exasperated look.

“Really, Zu-nii?”

He resolutely ignores the blush creeping up his neck and shoves her gently. “Shut up, Mi-nee.”

@felicityroth

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honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

Extra Hands [ Ivar x Reader, Ivar/Hvitserk Platonic ] VD7

❛ pairing | ivar/hvitserk, ivar x reader

❛ type | drabble for @youbloodymadgenius ‘s 1k event that I’m so, totally, late for. i’m so sorry that i’ve been slow, cat. i’ve been in a strange funk. other requests filled: you’ve never had a Valentine’s date and right, like you could do so much better. / You bet your ass I could.

❛ summary | hvitserk knows when his brother is nervous.

❛ tags | implied first date, modern ivar

“I dunno why you’re making all of these. Is that a homemade box?”

Hvitserk picked the chocolate chunks out of Ivar’s drab vanilla cookie mix. It was the first time that he had tried this particular recipe. It was a painfully simple recipe of chocolate chip cookies, but that was the point. He made a note to use sea salt to give it some life. Who, after all, disliked chocolate chip cookies? Ivar gripped the wheels of his wheelchair, scooting himself around the kitchen.

“Bro, this is a fuckin’ homemade box!”

“Stop eating the dark chocolate,” Ivar lurched up, smacking his elder brother’s knuckles. Hvitserk sneaks his fingers back in to take three morsels back with him. “You’ll throw off the proportions.”

“So what? It’s just for us, right?”

“As if I would put this much effort into something for my brothers.” Ivar oils an ice cream scoop. He digs into the dough, scooping pieces that were-- of course, the perfect size. “It is for my woman.”

Hvitserk about chokes on his chocolate morsels.

“A girl?!”

“Yes, a woman, Hvitserk.”

But you’ve never had a bitch for Valentine’s!”

“Don’t call her that,” Ivar bobs his head toward Hvitserk in a nod. He spent the better part of the afternoon in preparation for his date this evening. It was his first-- with a mother like his-- it had been previously impossible to date. But the ever-growing litany of questions that Hvitserk had for him began to pile up.

“I gotta see this. Is she hot?” Hvitserk laughed, bouncing up and down in the question. “That why you’re making so many fuckin’ cookies? Chocolate chip cookies, thumbprint cookies, sugar cookies. Sweetheart, you can’t buy the necessities of life--err dick-- with cookies.”

“Don’t Burton me. Why don’t you go fuck another one of your failed film students and leave me alone?” Ivar bit out. It was easier with his help, no doubt, but this was something he did with the express intention of seeing your smile. It had been years. Years that he spent changing your mind about dating your boss. He wasn’t about to ruin this now.

Hvitserk swept the cookie sheet from the granite countertop and eased it into the oven. Ivar’s mind swims in the vast lake of his mind, wondering exactly how he could make sure that nothing went awry. It was, after all, his first date.

“I just wanna see what she’s like. I mean, when have you brought a girl home? Suddenly you open up this publishing company, and bam, pussy.”

Ivar looks at the other steaming cookies. They would have to cool first. His kitchen was perfumed with the scent of vanilla, almond, and delicious brown butter from the oven. Ivar eyes Hvitserk sharply, reaching for the glittery homemade box. “She’s not just pussy. She’s--”

“Look at you being all romantic and shit.”

“You are annoying me.”

Sometimes, he wished he was an only child—most days. Today was one of them. His hands trembled around the box of delicate cookies. His brother’s expression was hooded for a moment before Hvitserk took the handles of his wheelchair, dragging him out of the room with nothing more but Ivar’s booming complaint. Hvitserk knew how much he hated it when he did this. It was like a mother dragging a child by the braids!

“I’ll come check them fuckin’ cookies, don’ worry. What’re you gonna wear?”

They come to a stop in Ivar’s room. He looks toward his crutches, settled on the wall, and decides to reach for them so that he could stand. Hvitserk rustles in his closet. He had a wealth of handsome suits-- it happened when you needed to impress a good author or attend an important meeting-- but they all seemed wrong. His practiced expression melts off his face. He thought it all through: the date, the dinner simmering on the stove, but when it came to himself. He dropped his eyes to the floor before returning Hvitserk’s look.

“That suit, I suppose.”

“That shit is ugly,” Hvitserk returns.

“Right, like you could do so much better,” Ivar hisses.

“Bet your ass I could. You gotta wear something hot. You want her to fuck you, right?”

“I told you--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Not jus’ some pussy. But you wanna fuck, don’t you?”

He would be lying if he said he didn’t. Something hot ends up being some black slacks that contrast against a burgundy button-up and a tight, black vest. He feels more exposed than he has in a while when Hvitserk comes back from taking out his last batch of cookies. He likes it-- and he hates it.

“That’s hot,” Hvitserk clapped. Ivar runs his finger under the rolled-up sleeves, noting how they formed to his muscles. “No way she doesn’t fuck you.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“It’s Valentine’s day,” he told him. “It has to be about that.”

His phone trills. What he hates, but truly hates, is Hvitserk’s nosiness. He lurches toward it before Ivar could even move. He produces Ivar a decent nod. “She’s beautiful,” he flicks the phone at Ivar on his way out of the room. “Has a pretty smile, too.”

His heart pounded in leaps in his chest. You must be here; already. He’s not yet put the cookies in the box. He makes his way toward the front door with the bundle of flowers against his chest, cognizant of the sound of a scratching spatula dragging across his cookie sheet.

Well, Hvitserk is good for something.

Ivar isn’t sure of what the etiquette for Valentine’s Day is, but he could hardly care, knocking the door open to let you in. You slip in beside him, drawing your fingers over the v of his waistcoat.

“Is this new?” you asked. “It looks… amazing.”

Hvitserk, of course, is skittering somewhere inside. Ivar can hear the stifled giggle marked by the painfully unapologetic, I told you I could do better. You draw your head toward the inside, peeling the edge of your mask off. You roll your ruby red lipstick in, then out, and smile at him once again.

“Is someone inside?”

“Sadly,” he sighs as he hands you the flowers under his arm. “That is my brother Hvitserk. I don’t expect him to stay in the kitchen long.”

Ivar lingers on the word stay. You laugh, drawing the flowers up to inspect them more carefully. It’s a full bouquet of romantic red roses: painfully cliche, but painfully Ivar. They are his favourite shade.

“He’s kicking me out of my own kitchen,” Hvitserk calls back. You make your way into the house, drawing the bottom of your skirt lower: if you could manage such a thing. It wasn’t necessarily short: but the slit on the side of your leg was something Ivar knew Hvitserk would point out later.

Evidence, he’d shout. Evidence of nothing, Ivar would say back.

Your fingers graze Ivar’s free hand, clipping around the corner where Hvitserk stood with cookie crumbling in between his fingers. Ivar’s forehead creases, the anger bubbling up in his stomach into a roiling boil. At that moment you snatch Ivar’s hand, lacing your fingers together, and throwing cool water to the boil.

“You must be her,” Hvitserk mumbles. “Ivar’s first date.”

“First date? Really?” He’d kill him. He’d kill him, he’d drag him out to sea, throw his body over to the bottom of the pond and-- you lean up, planting a kiss at his jawline. “I like being the first.”

“Yes. This is my older brother Hvitserk. He likes to eat anything he can get his grubby little fingers on. Including things that I did not make for him,” Ivar returns. He leans against the cabinet and slams his crutch on the countertop. At times his brother can be overbearing. Today, like most days, Hvitserk needed his company. Unlike most days, Hvitserk doesn’t have the patience.

“Why don’t you,” he rubs his twirls his hand in a spin. “...fuck off, Hvitserk?”

“Ivar.”

“Don’ worry about it. He’s just all wound up because he’s brought me home a girl to meet.” He wiped his chocolates fingers over his basketball shorts and extended his hand out— “Name's Hvitserk.”

“I heard,” you smiled, bringing the hand not cupping Ivar’s hand to squeeze his bicep. “You’re Ivar’s lit agent?”

“One of them.”

“Ain’t that like— sexual harassment?” Hvitserk folds his hand back in, quickly catching on that you’re not a touchy type. At least, not with him. Fair enough.

“Why don’t you take a bottle of wine to your room, Hvitserk?” Ivar grumbles.

“Ain’t that for your date?”

“We don’t need it,” you shout.

“Huh. Well if you insist.” At last, he folds, taking the bottle and a stolen plate of food with a bounce. Although he doesn’t say anything— he has that dopey smile. He waits until the door slams behind Hvitserk to exhale an apology. Ivar began to think that he would never leave.

“I made those cookies for you.”

Your lips curl into a smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Hvitserk hollers something from the back room about having helped— and you pat his chest. His cheeks pinken as he looks over the dinner he’s made and the cookies he baked. His nosy Hvitserk— always killing his mood.

“Take me to your room.”

“Hm?” he asks. “You’re not hungry?”

“Not for pasta.”

Oh. For once, Hvitserk was right.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan

#vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #modern ivar x reader #vikings/reader

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thelreads · 3 years

Text

Alright, yesterday was my day off from work, and I pretty much blacked-out lmao but that`s okay, because although I had to work today, I did absolute jack-shit all day long and so I have more than enough energy to do a chapter, so, let us begin! Last time the Ending had arrived for Endeavor, and unfortunately Natsuo got caught on the cross-fire. Time to see what ending awaits for the people involved, on Chapter 251: Just one week

...

Huh... I wonder...

Alright, interesting, the villain seems to be aware that Endeavor isn`t allowed to kill no matter what, which, being honest, it is a bit of problem for heroes, but I understand the need for it. Well, it`s not like it stopped a few of them from trying, right All Might?

I`ll be need to mention again how, in my opinion at least, the Nomus don`t count as killing, because being honest they aren`t exactly alive anymore. AfO already killed them a long time ago, they are really puppets at best, and so, Endeavor just “destroyed” that Nomu, but again that wouldn`t exactly stop this nutjob from his plan, would it? Rhetorical question, of course it wouldn`t.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #reading #manga #liveblog #bnha liveblog #BNHAC251

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feralthoughtdump · 3 years

Text

Arsonist’s Lullaby

Part One: Kiss With A Fist

Part Two: Only Angel

Bucky and his Angel’s relationship grow closer.

Word Count: 6.8K

CW: violence, Bucky and his nightmares, John Walker being an ass, a little bit of fluff, smut, brief shower sex, Bucky steps on the reader with his boots, spitting, choking, spanking, Bucky using his metal arm, crying, FATWS ep. 3&4 spoilers

The cold air of the cargo container was strange, given that they were in a southeast Asian island. It sent a chill down Angel’s spine. Like something would go very wrong. They survey the empty space, searching for Nagel.

Sharon was certain Nagel was here, but there was no sight of him.

But Angel could hear the slight vibrations of music coming from… somewhere.

She approaches the back of the container and feels around the rough metal wall.

“Hey, I think he may be in here.” She beckons them over.

Pressing a gloved hand onto the metal, she pushed, revealing a small laboratory in front of them.

“You three go ahead.” She mutters. “I’ll keep an eye out with Sharon.”

Before they can say anything, she strides out of the container.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Sharon crosses her arms as the door closes. “I know them well. They can hold their own.”

“Oh, I know.” Angel chuckles.

“Bucky likes to call you Angel, huh. Seems like you two bonded pretty quickly.”

She gives Sharon a humored look as they stroll around the dock.

“I thought psychopaths couldn’t form bonds.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

Their eyes dart all over the place, looking for any oncoming bounty hunters.

“How’d you get my photo anyways?”

“Heavy analysis of CCTV footage, a few phone calls, and a lot of digging. The photo was shit quality, but it was enough for me to go off of.”

“Was it enough to catch me?”

“I guess so. Then Zemo blew up the UN so we tabled the case.”

“Interesting. Maybe that UN bombing was a blessing in disguise. Saved me a life sentence in a high-security prison.”

They turned a corner.

“You wouldn’t have gone to jail. MI6 would’ve given you a job instead.”

“Hmph. I’d rather die than be a servant.”

From the corner of her eye, Angel spots a passing black shadow.

“Guys,” she presses a finger onto her earpiece. “Someone’s here.”

A gunshot rings out from the container and the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Sharon gives her a knowing look and they turn the safety off of their guns.

“Here.” Angel whispers, handing Sharon a knife. “It’ll come in handy.”

Three bounty hunters transverse on them and they open fire, taking them down one by one.

“We don’t have much time, hurry up!” Sharon yells into the earpiece.

A bounty hunter wraps their arms around Angel and she grabs a knife, jamming it into their arm.

Adrenaline floods her system, dialing her senses up to ten. A swift roundhouse kick sends another hunter tumbling to the ground.

From behind her, she hears Sam and Bucky yelling and she runs towards them.

“It’s in every action movie!” She hears Sam yell.

If her life wasn’t on the line, she would’ve laughed.

“You okay?” She pants.

“No! We’re not!” Sam yells. “Zemo shot Nagel!”

“What? Where is he?”

Her question was answered when a container set fire and exploded. She spots Zemo standing atop another, donning a purple mask. Before she can point him out, he sprints away.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Gunshots ring from her right and Bucky wraps a protective arm around her. In her peripheral she sees a bounty hunter riding towards her on a motorcycle, guns blazing. She quickly wriggles out of Bucky’s grasp and sends a knife into the tire, throwing the hunter off of the vehicle and into the fire.

“Good aim.” He says, mouth agape in surprise.

“You just threw that dude into a fire!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, well, he was going to kill us.”

They continue to run through the maze of crates, turning corner after corner, dodging bullet after bullet.

As much as he hates to admit it, the sight of Angel in action, when her violence wasn’t directed towards him, sends a rush through his system.

Zemo speeds towards them in a convertible, signaling them to get in. Sam jumps in the passenger seat while Bucky and Angel sit in the back.

Her pupils are blown wide and Bucky swears he can feel the electricity radiating off of her. Without stopping to calm down, he grabs her face in his hand and presses a passionate kiss on her lips.

His heart skips a beat when she kisses him back, and in the corner of his eye, he spots Sharon giving either him or Angel, a thumbs up.

…

Bucky makes it a habit to call her Angel all the time. He likes the way it slips off his tongue. He likes the way her eyes seem to glimmer when he calls her that. It’s as if the more he calls her Angel, she seems to glow more and more.

He calls her Angel when they board the jet on the way to Latvia.

He calls her Angel when she sits down to change the gauze on her thigh.

He calls her Angel when they get to the Riga safe house.

The more time he spends with her, the more he notices the little things about her. He notices how her tongue sticks out a little when she does her eye makeup.

He notices how her head would bop along to music in her earbuds

He notices how she’ll curl up on the couch, tucking her knees close to her body, while she sketches.

He notices how she’ll mutter curses in different languages. Mandarin, French, Russian, Spanish just to name a few.

He notices how she took off her jewelry when she showers with the exception of a gold chain. A gold chain with a dangling pendant. A pendant of a little angel.

He notices how she uses apple cinnamon body wash. It made her smell warm. It made her smell like home.

She gets along with Sam. Even Zemo.

She talks about philosophy with Zemo and when she converses with Sam, they talk about music.

She’s a force to be reckoned with. Fiery. Just like Selby had said. A firebird.

And despite her cool, hardened front, there was a gentleness to her.

The jet had touched down in Latvia late and night and they collectively decided to get a good night’s rest before finding Karli.

He had woken up from a nightmare. Reliving the memory of killing Yori’s son.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but he padded over to Angel, reading Anna Karenina. Glasses perched on her nose, hair loose and resting past her shoulders.

She looks up at him.

“Nightmare?”

Bucky nods, tears pricking are his eyes.

She places the book on the floor and stretches out on the couch.

“Come here.” She whispers arms open wider

She let him lay his head on her chest, nose pressed against her sternum. With gentle hands, she runs her fingers through his hair, slowing his rapid heartbeat.

The serum had made his hearing sharper and from his position between her breasts, he could hear the soft thumping of her heart. It calmed him.

“Can you sing to me?” He mumbles.

The hand playing with his hair stops.

“Sing to you?” She asks.

“Mhm.”

“I-“ she pauses “I don’t really-“

“Please.” He begs.

She’s quiet, just calmly stroking his hair, then she sighs.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything. Just… please, I want you to sing for me.”

She ponders for a moment before she parts her lips, voice shaky and quiet.

When I was a child, I heard voices

Some would sing and some would scream

You soon find you have few choices

I learned the voices died with me

He closes his eyes and noses at her sternum.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

The song is unfamiliar. He didn’t listen to music all that much anymore. And even when he listens to music, it was mostly from the 40s.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

Her voice, still soft and quiet, is haunting. The way it wraps around the lyrics, warms his heart. He breathes in the smell of her apple cinnamon body wash.

When I was 16, my senses fooled me

Thought gasoline was on my clothes

I knew that something would always rule me

I knew the scent was mine alone

He loves the way he can feel her chest move up and down. The way her voice sounds so rich with his ear pressed against her chest, the music echoing within her ribs.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

He reaches his hand to play with the angel pendant on her necklace. Finger running over the grooves.

When I was a man I thought it ended

When I knew love's perfect ache

But my peace has always depended

On all the ashes in my wake

As he drifts off to sleep, he can hear the last lines of the song lingering on her lips. The images from war. The torture he endured, the people he’s killed, the amends he has yet to make, all temporarily fade from his mind.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

And for the first time since Steve left, Bucky was able to sleep without disturbance.

…

“You have a lovely voice.”

Angel was pulled from her sleep when she hears Zemo’s voice.

She glares at him and places a finger on her lips, shushing him. Bucky was still lying on top of her, still asleep and she didn’t want to wake him.

“My apologies.” He smiles.

“Were you watching us last night?” She interrogates quietly.

“No, but I do have a keen sense of hearing. I heard you singing to James.”

She turns her head to meet his eyes.

“He had a nightmare. It was the least I could do for him.”

“Understandable.” He nods. “My son used to have nightmares and my wife’s voice was the only thing that could put him to sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles sympathetically. “About your family, I mean. I know you lost them a while ago.”

Her hand combs through Bucky’s hair.

“I understand how vengeance and anger overtook you. You needed your revenge. But don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt who? James?”

“Yes.” Her voice darkens. “If you lay a finger on him, I won’t hesitate to bury you.”

Zemo sighs.

“I have no intention of harming him. I see the way you look at him. It’s the same look I used to give my wife. You care for him dearly and given your line of work, I know you’d do anything to avenge the people who harm the ones you love.” He walks towards her and offers her a cookie. Angel takes it with a wary hand.

“You’ve got anything else you want to say?”

“I do have a question about that song. I knew that something would always rule me.” He quotes. “Was that about yourself, or James?”

She narrows her eyes.

“It was just a song.”

“Yet it implies that something will always have power, control, over the songwriter.” He tilts his head.

“What are you implying, Baron?”

“It’s not an implication. It’s an observation. You two share a common trait. For James, it’s his past. His time as the Winter Soldier looms over him. As for you, you seem to have this, how do I say it, a compulsion to kill. It will always stick to you.”

“Baron, I suggest you pick your next words very carefully.”

Bucky stirs and she lifts her hand from his head.

“Mmm. Good morning.” He mumbles, voice rough and heavy.

“Good morning to you too sleepyhead.” She coos, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” He hums.

She gives Zemo a look that says ‘get out.’

Zemo gives her a smirk and walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

Bucky opens his eyes and Angel can feel her heart melt. He balances himself on his arm to press a kiss to her nose.

“You look cute with bed head.” He chuckles. “So pretty. I could just eat you up.”

“You look quite pretty when you sleep.” She giggles and rubs her nose against his.

He places his head back on her chest and they lie there for a while, listening to the sounds of the city.

Finally, she sighs.

“Alright, Bucky, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He whines and wraps his arms around her.

“No, stay.”

“Bucky,” she says sternly, “I have to wash my hair, let go.”

With a huff, he sits up and lets her get off of the couch. As she stands she turns around spotting Bucky, arms crossed and a pout on his face.

“I never said you couldn’t join.”

Bucky jumps up and runs to her. He places his hands on her waist and turns her around, pressing a kiss to her lips. She links her fingers with his and he follows behind her towards the bathroom.

While they wait for the water to heat up, she reaches into her bag to pull out bottles of product.

He spots the shimmering bottle of apple cinnamon body wash and smiles.

“Apple cinnamon body wash.” He notes.

“Mhm. It's inexpensive but it smells nice.”

“It does.”

She places her hand under the stream of water and gets a feel for the temperature. The water is hot, just how she likes it. Her hands pull the t-shirt over her head and then her cotton underwear.

Bucky waits for her to step into the shower before he strips down and joins her.

A content smile crosses her face when the hot water hits her body but her peace is broken when she hears Bucky yelp.

“Why is the water so hot?”

“I like it hot.” She turns to face him and playfully pokes at his navel. “It’s relaxing.”

“You’re going to boil me alive.” He grumbles.

“If you don’t like the hot water,” She bluntly states, “then get out.”

She shampoos her hair, letting the bubbles froth around her fingers, and then she pours a bit into her hand and reaches up to massage it into Bucky’s hair.

He runs a metal finger down her sternum, collecting a bit of the bubbles that run down her body. When his finger reaches her scar, his touch lingers.

Seeing the guilt in his eyes, Angel places a finger underneath his chin and has him look into her eyes instead.

“Don’t.” She murmurs. “You’ll only torture yourself reminiscing on the past.” She pulls him under the stream, letting the water wash away the shampoo in their hair.

She’s got a meticulous shower routine, one that she likes to perform herself, yet she’s okay with Bucky standing next to her. When she combs the conditioner through her hair, she does the same for Bucky, knowing it would soften his hair even more and make it smell like vanilla and pomegranate.

She places a bit of the apple cinnamon body wash in her hands and rubs it onto his body. Her hands pay extra attention to the scar on his shoulder.

“It’s got vitamin E in it. Helps with scars.”

Bucky turns her around, making her face away from him.

She can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but she hums with relaxation when she feels his strong hands rub the body wash into her skin.

“You’ve got some knots in your shoulders.” He notes.

“I’m aware of that.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I am.”

When the water washes away the body wash, the shower is filled with the scent of apple cinnamon.

She’s surprised when she feels a kiss on the back of her shoulder but nevertheless, she enjoys it.

Bucky presses another kiss in the center of her shoulders and kisses her along the line of her back. He sinks to his knees and places a kiss onto the dimples of her back.

“Buck, what are you doing?” She smirks, turning around.

“I just wanna love on you.” He murmurs against her skin. “Can I?”

She blinks owlishly, then slowly nods her head.

“Y-yeah” she breathes.

Bucky places a kiss on her scar and runs his tongue over it, sending a fire through her.

“Open your legs for me, doll.”

She shyly parts her legs and Bucky smiles up at her.

He grabs her waist, hoisting her knees over his shoulders, pressing her back against the wall.

She lets out gaspy whines when he kisses and nips at her thighs, letting his stubble rub against the sensitive skin.

“Bucky,” she whimpers “we- we’re going to waste water.”

“Don’t worry about that, doll.” He murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good.”

He licks a stripe up her folds, causing her to gasp. She grabs onto his hair, pulling him closer.

“So sweet, baby. You taste so sweet.”

She doesn’t reply. She couldn’t. Not when he was making her feel so good.

She slaps her other hand onto the wall, trying to hold herself up. Bucky tightens his grip on her and leans in closer, continuously licking into her, making her head spin.

She tries to say something, tell him she’s close, tell him she’s going to cum quicker than she thought, but the only sounds that leave her mouth are breathy moans.

When he pulls away, she whines. He gives her a cocky grin.

“Wanna cum?”

She vigorously nods her head.

“That’s a shame.” He lets go of her legs, almost dropping her onto the tile, and wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. “We’ve got a big day ahead.” His tone is teasing, almost mean. “I’ll let you cum later.”

She’s left on the edge, and she’s angry. No, not angry. Frustrated. Frustrated and desperate.

“You’re mean.” She grumbles, shutting off the water.

“If you give me attitude, I won’t let you cum at all.” He chuckles.

She pushes him away and wraps a towel around her body.

“I don’t need you to cum anyways.” She grumbles under her breath.

As she walks away, he grabs her by the back of her neck and pulls her into his chest.

“If I were you,” He lowers his lips to her ear, “I’d behave. Now,” he releases his grip and gives her ass a smack. “Get dressed, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

She digs through her duffel to find a simple red jumpsuit. The neckline is low enough to be teasing, but it had enough support and pockets to be practical.

“Sounds like someone had a good morning.”

She turns around, a big grin stretching across her face when she sees Sam.

“Sam! Good morning!” She cheers.

“No need to good morning me when I woke up to the sound of fucking.” he grumbles, annoyance in his voice.

She chuckles as she buttons the front of her jumpsuit.

“So, Bucky tells me we have a lot going on today. What’s on the itinerary?”

“Hopefully, we can track down Karli and convince her to stop. At least that’s my plan.”

“Sounds good.”

He grabs his jacket from the chair. “I’m headed out to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”

“I’m okay.” She smiles at him. “Thanks for asking.”

Sam reaches the door and turns around.

“One more thing, you’ve got a great voice.”

“Was I that loud or did no one sleep at all last night?”

Sam chuckles.

“I think after the past few days, it’s hard for anyone to get a good night's sleep.” He looks down, fiddling with his fingers. “What you did… what you did for Bucky in Madripoor, when we were undercover…”

“What did I do?” She asks curiously.

“When Zemo had him go all Winter Soldier, you fought alongside him, you got to that first guy before Bucky did.”

Angel is quiet. She says nothing, looking down at her hands and picking at her cuticles.

“He might not say this to your face, but I’ve been around him long enough to know that he’s thankful. And so am I.”

She doesn’t know what to say. What would she even say?

“I can see now why he likes calling you Angel.”

With that, the door closes.

She walks over to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets. The shelves were fairly empty, mostly just tins of cookies and candy, and a box of cherry blossom tea. She huffs in frustration when her fingers brush over the tin of candy, barely moving it.

“Need some help, doll?”

Bucky grabs the tin and places it on the counter.

Her frustration is reignited at the sight of him in a tight, black t-shirt. She wants him to bend her over, fuck her until she sobs.

But she knows he won’t give her that.

Before she can grab it, Bucky holds it above his head.

“You’re evil.” She mutters. “Come on, give me it.”

“Nope!” He smirks.

“Go fu-“

She yelps when Bucky loops his thumb through the belt loop of her jumpsuit and pulls her close to him.

“Remember what I told you? Watch your language.”

“Give me the candy or you’re not getting head for a week.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he hands her the box.

“Thank you.”

She presses a kiss to his nose and walks away with the box.

She knows what Bucky’s doing. He’s riling her up, teasing her.

But two can play that game.

She sits up on the counter and opens the tin.

Turkish Delight. Candy she used to eat as a child.

He’s staring at her. She can feel it. Her fingers pluck a candy from the box and hold it up.

“Want one?”

Bucky walks over to her and wedges himself between her thighs.

“Sure.”

She unwraps the candy and places a finger on his chin, beckoning him to open his mouth.

Her fingers place the treat on his tongue.

“Sweet, isn’t it?”

He kisses her and she can taste the sugar on his lips.

“Almost as sweet as you.”

She grabs another and hops off of the counter, humored by Bucky’s frustrated look.

“Sam probably wants everyone ready by the time he gets back. So, I don’t know.” She eyes him up and down, ready to drool at the sight of his arms. “Get dressed.”

“Oh doll, I’m already dressed.” He chuckles.

“Good. Then help me out.” Her fingers deftly unbutton the top of her jumpsuit, exposing her black sports bra. She reaches for her harness and shoves it in Bucky’s hands. “Buckle me in.”

…

Sex was the last thing on her mind when she’s face to face with the new Captain America.

“Karli Morganthau is too dangerous for you to be pulling this shit.” He yells.

Angel rolls her eyes at the sight of John Walker.

“How’d you find us now?” Bucky replies, voice full of annoyance.

“You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

Angel’s seen his face in the news. Lemar, the better of America’s new dynamic duo.

“No more keeping us in the dark, and you can tell us why you broke him” John points to Zemo “out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky answers.

“That is an unbelievable explanation! And who the hell are you?” He points to Angel.

“I’m a friend.” She grumbles, eyes narrowed.

“You have no business being here. And whatever you’re wearing, all you’re going to do is draw attention.”

“And your little Mr. America getup isn’t?”

“Why don’t you go back to working in European intelligence or whatever it is you do.”

“You better watch your mouth, Mr. Walker.” She snarls. “Is that really how you speak to a lady?”

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupts their feud.

“Well, where?”

“All we know is,” Sam answers, “It’s a memorial. We’ll intercept her there.”

“That means civilians, high risk of casualties.” Lemar states.

“Alright good.” John schemes. “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.”

“Not a good idea, John.” Angel retorts. He halts in his steps and turns to her.

“You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into. This is an American situation.”

She leans in until she’s staring into his eyes. Rage broils inside of her.

“Let me tell you something John, I don’t care about your medals of honor. I don’t care that you’re wearing that red and blue suit. So I’ll tell you this once, and only once. If you dare speak to me like this again, I won’t hesitate to-“

Bucky pulls her back, giving her a stern look.

“Hey,” he rubs her shoulder, trying to settle her anger. “He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, so she’s your little girlfriend huh?”

Angel presses the tip of her knife against his chin and backs him into a wall.

“You stay out of Bucky’s business.” She seethes.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

This time, both Sam and Bucky had to pull her away, but she keeps her murderous glare trained on him.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes. Keep your little psycho under control.” John spits.

“Hey, don’t speak to her like that,” Sam demands. “Just because you don’t know her doesn’t give you an excuse to be rude.”

“Either you show her some respect,” Bucky says “or all of the help we have to offer is off of the table.”

Sam nods in agreement and eventually so does Zemo, who adds a small shrug.

“I wasn't actually going to kill him.” She mutters under her breath.

“We know.” Sam pulls her into a side hug. He directs his words back to John. “I want to talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.”

“Look, the person closest to her died. She’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her, it’s now.”

“What?” John halts in his steps. “No, wait stop. We are way past reasoning with her.”

“Sam,” Lemar states. “If you walk in there cold, you could die.”

“But if you walk in guns blazing, you could have the blood of hundreds of civilians on your hands.” Angel folds her arms. “Besides, if things go wrong, I’m trained in mixed martial arts.”

“You think a black belt will save you from a super-soldier?”

Angel snorts.

“It has before.”

Bucky looks down and stifles a laugh.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam argues with John. “This is in my wheelhouse.”

They’re all silent, staring daggers at each other.

“John,” Lemar breaks the silence “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” He gives Angel a kind smile. “And I think we give this girl a chance to show us what she’s got.”

“Thank you.” She smiles back.

“I’m sure this can all come to an agreeable conclusion.” Zemo points forward. “My associate is just up ahead.”

They watch as Zemo approaches a young girl, handing her some money. She beckons them to follow her down a cobblestone path, into a building, and through the boiler room.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” John states while handcuffing Zemo to a pipe. “Then we’re doing things my way.”

While they wait, Angel spends her time playing with her butterfly knife, spinning the handle around her fingers.

“How do you not cut yourself doing that?” Lemar asks.

She spins the knife closed.

“I have before, it’s just about practice and being careful. Here, I’ll show you.”

Bucky observes Angel showing off her knife tricks to Lemar.

Despite the stressful situation, he still felt a pang of possessiveness. She was his Angel. He gave her that name and when she said she’d accepted it. In a way, she was his and he was hers.

“What’s your name? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

He hears Lemar ask.

Angel giggles.

“It’s Artemis. Like the goddess.”

Artemis. It’s fitting, Bucky thinks. The goddess of the hunt.

“That’s really cool. Let me guess, your parents were huge mythology fans?”

“You can say that.” She chuckles.

His eyes narrow when she smiles at Lemar.

Their conversation continues and Bucky’s jealousy burns brighter when she places her fingers on the fabric of Lemar’s suit, giving him a comment on how she’s got an eye for fashion and how nice the fabric was. From his position by the door, he sees her turn to him and give him a wink.

Bucky scowls. That little minx.

John crosses his arms and stares daggers into her.

“What exactly do you do, anyway?” He scoffs. “Are you some kind of spy?”

Angel raises a brow.

“I’m not a spy. I’m just a problem solver.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John shakes his head and secures the shield on his arm. “Nevermind. I’m going in.”

“Oh, come on John, it’s only been eight minutes.”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not-” Angel sighs and turns away, focusing her attention on pulling her hair back.

Bucky stops him before John can get through the doorway.

“It must be so easy for you.” John’s voice is full of malice. “All that serum running through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Bucky can see Angel slowly shake her head, telling him not to give in to John’s words. But he can’t. He’s already done so much harm. He’s responsible for the deaths of so many people, he can’t let Sam become another.

So, he lets John walk past him, Lemar following along.

Angel runs up to him.

“Bucky, why’d you do that?”

“I can’t… I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing him.”

She sighs and places a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I understand.” Her lips land a gentle kiss on his nose. “But don’t let his words get to you. Now,” She grins and lightly smacks his ass. “Go make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.”

With one final kiss, Bucky runs off.

She turns around to see the handcuffs dangling from the pole. Her blood runs cold. Zemo escaped and who knows what he’ll do.

She runs through the halls, boots quietly slapping on the concrete floors. From her left, she hears a series of loud gunshots and crunching glass.

Her feet lightly tread next to the walls, ears picking up every little sound.

She jumps, heartbeat pounding when the thump of a body falling to the ground meets her ears.

Did Zemo kill someone? Was it Karli? Another Flag-Smasher?

She runs through the door closest to her. From behind a table, she spots John staring at a small vial. A small vial of the serum. Before she can say anything, he runs away.

As she quietly walks into the room, she spots Zemo, lying on the ground, unconscious. No one else was here.

She crouches down next to him and gently shakes his shoulder.

“Baron? Zemo? Come on, wake up.”

He doesn’t move.

She picks up his wrist, pressing her pointer and middle fingers on the vein. A sigh of relief passes her lips at the feeling of a pulse.

Her hands shake his shoulder again, this time, with more vigor.

“Zemo!” She shouts.

His eyes snap open and he groans in pain.

“You passed out Baron.”

“I’m aware.” He grumbles. “John Walker threw the shield at me.”

“Of course he did.”

She offers him a hand and helps him stand up.

“Can you walk?” She asks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

The two make their way through the city until they reach Zemo’s apartment. Sam was already there, typing away on his computer.

Angel wets a towel in the kitchen and hands it to Zemo.

“Go, lie down. Put this over your eyes.”

She walks down the hall towards Bucky’s room. With a tired sigh, she removes her shoes, jumpsuit, and harness.

Her eyes close as she lies on the bed in her underwear. The sports bra felt much too tight but she didn’t care. She was tired. Her morning sexual frustration had caught up to her but she didn’t feel like doing anything about it.

Even though it was only seven in the evening, she just wanted to sleep.

Right when she’s drifting off to sleep, the slam of the bedroom door jolts her awake.

Bucky is standing in front of her, arms crossed, eyes filled with rage.

“Get off the bed.” He snarls.

She laughs and rolls over onto her stomach.

“No. If sex is what you want, let’s do it on the bed.”

She hears a sigh behind her and her eyes widen when she feels Bucky’s hands wrap around her ankles.

“Buck, what are you-”

Her words come to a halt when he pulls her off of the bed and onto her knees.

“You wanted me to fuck you?” He seethes. “Fuck you rough until you can’t speak?”

“That was the plan.” She smirks.

He twists a hand in her hair and pulls her head back. Her breath is shallow as she looks up, meeting Bucky’s angry eyes.

He’s mad. At the entire Karli situation, and maybe with her. But his anger towards her, she assumes, is fiery, lustful anger. Anger that she can have a lot of fun with.

“If you had let me cum earlier,” She snaps, “ maybe I wouldn’t have been such a brat.”

She rubs her thighs together, trying to alleviate the arousal burning through her. A whine leaves her lips when he kicks her legs apart.

He tightens his grip on her hair.

“You really need to learn some respect.”

Bucky places the toe of his boot on her back and pushes her face down onto the floor. She doesn’t resist, giving in to his dominance.

“Aww, look at you,” he mocks, “You were so bold earlier, my Angel. Where did that fire go?”

Her heart swells. He’s no longer calling her Angel. He’s called her his Angel. She was his.

Footsteps echo around her and she takes a shaky breath when his black boots come into view.

“Look at me, doll. I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

His voice is commanding, authoritative. It drew her in, made her head spin.

She looks up at him with wide eyes as he bends down on a knee.

“Were you trying to rile me up? Trying to make me angry?”

She nods.

Bucky roughly grabs her chin, cold metal digging into her cheeks.

“Use your words.”

“Y-yes Sergeant.” She squeaks.

He stares down at her, anger and lust in his eyes.

“Open your mouth.”

Her lips part and Bucky spits, letting his saliva pool on her tongue.

His fingers press on her chin, closing her mouth. She swallows, heat burning in her tummy.

“So now, you want to be a good girl, huh?”

He picks her up by her neck and shoves her face into the soft mattress. His fingers loop around the elastic waistband of her panties and pull, the fabric digging into her cunt.

“Yes, I’m your good girl.” She whines. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

He leans in close, his warm breath brushing over her ear.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rears his metal hand against her ass, leaving a red handprint of her skin.

A choked breath leaves her lips. She relishes in the pain and gives him a cocky smile.

“Is that all you got Sarge?”

He lands another hard smack, this time on her thigh. A whimper escapes her lips.

“Oh, you’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

He shifts his hand on her neck, wrapping it around the front of her neck. She squeezes at the sides, slowing the circulation of blood to her head.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the hand on her throat stops the words from leaving her lips.

The clinking of his belt buckle sends a wave of lust through her.

She was finally getting what she wanted.

His hand on her neck is released and she takes in a sharp breath.

He pulls her panties down her legs and throws them to the side.

She gasps at the feeling of cold metal rubbing between her folds. Her fingers dig into the sheets, grabbing at the fabric.

“You’re practically dripping.” He muses, “Who knew you were such a masochist?”

“Only for you.” She keens.

“Only for me? Not for anyone else?”

“Yes! Yes! Only you!”

Bucky hums and lands another smack on her ass. She yelps and tears threaten to spill from her eyes.

He shoves two fingers inside of her and she gasps at the cool feeling of the metal.

She squirms around as he twists his fingers, pressing against that spot inside of her.

Hunger swarms her brain. She wanted, no, needed more.

What he’s doing is sadistic, she thinks. Constantly bringing her to the edge, but never letting her tip over.

He lets his thumb press against her clit and the tears she’s been trying to hold back spill over. She lets out a quiet sob into the sheets but Bucky doesn’t stop his movements.

“I need more.” She quietly whimpers.

“You think you have the right to beg?” He asks nonchalantly. “After that little show?”

“I’m sorry.” She cries.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she turns her head, letting her cheek rest on the bedsheets. When she glances up, she can see Bucky’s amused smirk.

She feels the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance and she holds her breath.

“Oh doll,” he coos, thumbing away her tears, “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

A sudden thrust of his hips buries his cock inside of her. Bucky clamps his hand over her lips, muffling her desperate cries.

“Shh, shh,” He whispers gently. “It’s okay, love. Be a good girl and take it.”

He starts moving, his hips slowly thrusting into her. The fire inside of her burns, hotter and hotter. Her head is reeling as she feels herself come closer to her impending orgasm. Despite how rough he is with her, she feels safe. Safe with him. She feels safe enough to fall into submission, open and pliant for him.

Her sobs against his hand become louder, more intense and he bends down to nip at her neck.

“Are you gonna cum, angel? Cum all over my cock?”

She nods, eyes squeezed shut.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He asks.

“No,” she mumbles against his hand. “But I want to.”

He brushes his fingers down the length of her back and she shivers.

“You wanna cum, doll? Ask nicely.”

He releases his hand and grabs her hip, pulling her deeper onto his cock.

“Please.” She gasps. “Please, let me cum!”

“You have to do better than that.”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you! I’ll never flirt with anyone again! Just please! Please, I wanna cum.”

He picks up his pace, and she finds it harder to stave off her orgasm.

“So polite.” He hums, “But not yet.”

She lets out a pathetic sob.

“Please.” She whimpers.

“Be patient. You’ll get to cum soon.”

Her breaths are shallow as she tries to keep herself from cumming. She bites down on her lower lip but the pain does little to help.

Relief washes over her when Bucky speaks again.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. Come on angel, cum for me.”

Her teeth bite down on the sheets as she’s hurtles over the edge, her orgasm sending shockwaves through her body.

As her chest heaves and her mind becomes foggy, she can barely feel Bucky pull out and releases him cum on her back.

She lies there, upper half sprawled over the mattress, a dopey smile on her face. A hum of pleasure slips past her lips when Bucky wipes his cum away with a warm washcloth.

“You okay, doll?” He asks.

She nods her head.

The bed shifts as he sits on the bed and pulls her towards him.

“Come on,” He lies down and pulls her close to him. He noses at the back of her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

The sun was about to set, bathing their bodies in a golden glow. He runs his metal fingers over her bicep, cooling down her heated skin.

She’s tired, so tired. Yet she’s happy. The first time in a long time that she’s actually felt happy.

“Bucky?” She asks in a fucked out daze.

“Yes my angel?”

A moment of silence passes.

“You’re the only one who’s made me feel human.”

...

Once again, tysm @sojournmichael for reading over my little snippets of writing!

#bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #bucky fanfic

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