#so fun digging in the crates this week

[cinamun]

On This Day In TFA - March 22nd

7 years ago today Indya finally secured the bag at the tip top of San MyShuno and is faced with a potentially life-altering choice...

Fun Fact: That Penthouse was in the Spire Apartments in Uptown which is an area described in the game as "home to the rich, powerful and slightly odd". The owner of that penthouse was definitely all three....

[inseobts]

Midnight Snack

luffy x gn!reader

he gets hungry at night so you both go steal some snacks

words count: 1.2k

tags: fluffy, sfw, soft, gender neutral

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The gentle sway of the ship rocked you awake. It's the middle of the night, and the sky above is studded with thousands of stars. The moonlight filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the room you share with Luffy. The air is cool, but your body is warm under the blanket.

But there's something you didn't anticipate... Luffy’s stomach grumbling loudly.

You turn to your side, blinking through the darkness. Luffy is sprawled out next to you, his back against the pillow, but he's restless. You can feel him shifting beside you, his body twitching. Then, another loud growl.

“Luffy” you whisper, nudging him “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

Luffy’s eyes flutter open, squinting as he stares at you, his face lit by the soft glow of the moon. He lets out a long yawn, stretching his arms above his head before blinking at you, clearly still groggy.

“Hungry,” he mumbles, rubbing his belly dramatically, as if the sheer force of his grumbling stomach could somehow shake the walls. “Really, really hungry.”

You groan softly, your mind still trying to wake up “It’s the middle of the night, Luffy.”

“So?” He grins, as if the time of day, or night, rather, means nothing when it comes to food “I want a snack.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes “What kind of snack are we talking about? We’ve already gone through the whole kitchen twice this week. Sanji’s gonna murder us if we do it again.”

Luffy grins even wider, turning toward you with an almost childlike gleam in his eyes “That’s the fun part! We won’t wake him up. We’ll sneak a snack!”

You blink at him, unable to stop a small laugh from escaping “You really are impossible.”

“Well, you love me for it” Luffy says, his voice a little too proud as he bounces up in bed. He pats his lap with a mischievous look “Come on, let’s find the perfect snack!”

You rub your eyes, reluctantly sitting up “What kind of midnight snack is perfect, anyway?”

Luffy shrugs, still grinning “One that makes me feel full, and one that makes my stomach stop growling.”

That… was probably as good of an answer as you were going to get from him.

You smile, rolling your eyes fondly at him “Alright, alright. I’ll go with you, but this better be quick. We need to get back before the others wake up.”

Luffy stands up, his enthusiasm now fully evident, and pulls you by the hand “We’ll be fast! C’mon, I know just the place!”

The night air hits you as soon as you step outside, cold but fresh, and the ship is unusually still, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the hull making the night seem peaceful. You follow Luffy down the stairs, both of you trying to be as quiet as possible, though that’s easier said than done when Luffy’s practically bounding from step to step.

“Shh!” You whisper, grabbing his arm to slow him down “We need to be quiet. We’re sneaking, remember?”

Luffy shrugs, his grin never faltering “I’m always quiet when I want to be!”

You can’t argue with that logic, so you simply shake your head and follow him to the kitchen.

As you reach the door, Luffy quickly pushes it open, but you stop him just before entering “Wait. Remember, no ingredients! Not unless we want Sanji to skin us alive.”

Luffy pouts “Aww, but meat…”

“We’re not eating Sanji’s food!” you whisper harshly, but then your mind clicks “Maybe there’s something else we can find.”

Luffy tilts his head, looking at you like you just suggested you go on a treasure hunt “Like what?”

You scan the kitchen, trying to think quickly “Uh… fruits! There might be something hidden away.”

Luffy’s eyes light up “Fruits! Yeah! Let’s find the best fruit!”

You both start rummaging through the small storage area, chuckling to yourselves as you dig through crates of apples, bananas, and even the occasional coconut. But nothing seems to satisfy your cravings.

“Wait, what’s that?” Luffy suddenly exclaims, his eyes locking onto something in the far corner of the kitchen. He runs over to the shelf and pulls out a small jar “Aha! Pudding!”

You stare at the jar in his hands “Luffy, that’s a jar of pudding.”

“Perfect snack!” Luffy says proudly, popping the lid off and sniffing it. He then dips his finger in and takes a big lick “Mmmm! Delicious!”

You stare at him, blinking “You’re eating pudding straight from the jar with your finger?”

Luffy shrugs, totally unfazed “Why not? It’s good! Wanna try some?”

Before you can protest, he sticks his finger in the jar and brings it toward your mouth.

“Luffy!” you laugh, swatting his hand away, though you’re unable to suppress your smile.

“Oh come on, just a little bit!” He gives you his best pouty face, the one that always gets to you.

You roll your eyes but can’t help yourself as you lean forward, letting him feed you a small scoop of pudding from the jar. You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“See?” Luffy says triumphantly “I knew you’d love it!”

You wipe your mouth, laughing “I swear, you’ll eat anything, won’t you?”

“Anything that’s yummy” he replies with a cheeky grin.

You chuckle again, and then, for a moment, the two of you just look at each other, the jar of pudding forgotten between you. It’s so simple, sitting together in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, just enjoying each other’s company.

“I’m glad we’re doing this” you say softly, leaning against him.

Luffy grins wide, putting his arm around your shoulder “Of course! There’s no one else I’d rather sneak snacks with.”

You smile, feeling your heart flutter a little at the sweetness of his words.

“Well, as long as we don’t wake anyone up” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He pulls you closer, a wide, mischievous grin on his face “Well… maybe we should wake them up. I can always go for more pudding.”

You laugh, shaking your head “You really are impossible.”

But as Luffy leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, you realize that, impossible or not, this was the kind of adventure you loved. Even if it involved sneaking around in the middle of the night for a perfect snack.

[bowieandqueen11]

Distraction / Dracule Mihawk Imagine

Request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Mihawk x Reader that’s kinda enemies to lovers. I’m super in love with the whole ‘they hate each other but their constant bickering is bordering on blatant flirting’. Thank you so much ^~^

Babes you are so right!! This is so sweet oh my goodness!! :) Sorry if this is really OOC, its my first time writing for Mihawk!

This was fun to write, but it took me a while - so if you liked it, or if you want a follow on, please leave a comment!

Warning: a little strong language, mentions of knives!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @bangnyfes.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

The exhale that left your nose at the sound of his voice would have been squally enough to shatter stone.

It had only been a meagre three days of uninterrupted peace before the cursed Dracule Mihawk arrived. Three. Days. True, your Captain and your fellow Red Haired Pirates had spent most of the hours here celebrating: emptying your dwindling crate supplies of poor Lucky Roux's lamb legs, unloading all the bottles of sweet liquor graciously donated to Shanks (or wily guerdoned by a female admirer off the coast of Syrup Village), and dripping every bottle dry until half the crew was splayed out on hammocks, and the other half was link-armed dancing underneath the endless ocean of drifting stars.

'For someone who's supposed to be a lookout, your observational skills are... well, decidedly more lacking than a sea cow's.'

As much as you loved Shanks, sometimes you wanted to grab his shoulders and give him a hard shake, trying to wipe that shrewd smile off his face. You hadn't even been granted any time to properly wake up; you had flung your arm over your squinting eyes, desperately trying to figure out why there was a looming shadow growing on the edge of your vision. Turned out, that as soon as that blasted coffin-shaped cruiser had come cruising past the white shores of Shank's base island, the man had nearly tripped over his feet to come leer over you like a grinning meerkat.

Look out duty? He had put you on look out duty!? With the brutish, blazing sun scorching across your bedraggled head? With the salty spray of the spring sea stretching its foamy fingers up across the shore and chilling your feet on this dusty, forgotten pocket of the East Blue? With the infuriating, pestering, testing, teasing Dracule Mihawk? Part of you was exasperated: you had been hoping for at least a week of recuperation before Shanks sailed off again for Yukiryu Island. Another part of you was dissatisfied that it had taken the swordsman so long to show up.

You hum in response as Mihawk's lengthening shadow shudders across your eyelids; feeling the cool chill that followed the flick of his coat around his boots, you don't even bother to open your eye and glare at the man. Instead, you dig your heels further down into the wet grains: legs stretched out and arms crossed tightly around your chest, lounging against the cragged edge of mossy crevice behind your back.

'I noticed you', you reply after a moment of pregnant silence. You fidget, trying your best not to give away the fact that your back was starting to ache from staying so *nonchalantly* perched in this position; to not give the man any ammunition. It really, really did not help your pride that his piercing eyes seemed to be mocking you with the way they glance obviously down the curved outline of your spine. Casting it away as vicarious embarrassment, Mihawk is almost ashamed with the burning realisation that his eyes had been trained over the years to be almost painfully conscious of your every miniscule mannerism.

'I just didn't think it was the effort to open my eyes', you sigh, tilting your head back towards the sun-strengthened field of bright blue swaying across the far yonder. 'There's no threat nearby. Unless-', you beckon your hand out towards the tapering shoreline, 'you count some of the cockles Beckman might stand on with his bare feet.'

'That's why the Captain's always wearing sandals!', you hear echo out from the mouth of the cave looming to your right, followed by the teetering sound of uproarious laughter. Despite the noise of your rancorous crewmates, Mihaw's golden eyes never waver: their piercing intensity focused solely on the edge of your irises as you finally, with a displeased twist of your lips, blink your gaze over to settle firmly on his own.

'I passed at least three Marine vessels during my jaunt over to your little...shack.' The swordsman's head cocks in your direction: his voice is low. Guarded. Unwavering. But you're getting to him. You know you're getting to him. Trying to wash down the waves of heat that begin to flood your vexed cheeks, you curse yourself for being able to read even his most minute idiosyncracies: the way his left eyebrow raises almost a tenth of an inch when he's struck by mild amusement.

'Shack? Shack!' You kick your bare foot off the slippery edge of the lapped rock and take a step out onto the gorge of beach stretching between you and Mihawk, swinging your arms out by your sides. 'Why Dracule, can't you see this is the last refuge of the East Blue - you dare scorn an abode teeming with luxury, good-will, and free booze!'

Another exuberant cheer rings out from Lucky Roux, as the unmistakable sound of two tankards slamming together, followed by a faint slosh and cry of outrage from Yasopp follow in quick procession.

The only hint that Mihawk has heard them is the slight narrowing of his eyes.

'It's not your fault, Hawk-Eyes.' You try to stifle your facetious smirk, instead placing your back against the rock again and fidgeting as if settling back for another snooze. Tipping the edge of your straw hat down to cover your eyes, you duck your chin into your neck and close your eyes, knowing the blatant disregard for Dracule would drive him mad.

'Suppose your eye sight isn't quite what it used to be, considering your advanced age and all.'

The clamour of your crew drowns in your ears by the pause that follows; too obdurate to flick an eye open and observe Mihawk's indignant reaction, you instead allow the sound of out-of-tune shanty singing to be replaced with the almost still whisper of the waves. Of the slight hiss of the balled sun, as it throws down its rays and coats you in nothing but the icy tendrils of Mihawk's obstinate silhouette. Of his sharp suspire twanging in your ear, as his pointed footsteps shift the earthen grains guarding you from his propinquity.

Of his gravelly voice, nearly making you knock the hat off your head as it suddenly flows past your ear.

The sunlight floods your eyes when they finally open, until you can barely see Mihawk: just the flaxen outline of his being as he comes floating up towards you: phantom like, and yet more imposing and colossal than the threat of a thousand Marine ships protruding their helms your way.

'Enough with the pleasantries. I believe I have something that may be of interest to you.'

He reaches into the inner lining of his coat, withdrawing a rolled up piece of parchment. Although you're intrigued, all you dare to do is look inquisitively between Mihawk's outreaching hand, and distrustfully back to his unwavering stare.

Wow, he really was close. You could almost see your reflection in the immaculately polished glaze of Yoru, still strapped on his back; as it turned out, that back just happened to be jutting your way. Mihawk's spine is almost completely arching over your reclining torso, almost blotting out the fringes of the sun, his head bowing as if observing rather flighty prey. Realising you're still stubborn as always: far too headstrong to trust him, or to place your fingers anywhere that could cause you to come into contact with his skin, he sighs and unrolls the treasure map with a flick of his wrist.

You did your best to hold back your snort. Really, you did.

'What, exactly, do you think the Captain will want with a scrappy looking, filth covered, mud covered, blood covered-'

'I didn't say Shanks. I said you. Although your Captain may have been a valiant opponent many years ago, he's now half the man he used to be. '

You chew the inside of your lip, finally rolling on the balls of your feet and coming to a full stand in front of the swordsman; Mihawk, almost unconsciously, straightens his own spine in return.

'You find me valiant, ey?'

He pierces you with the most grating stare he can muster.

'I find you wanting.'

The tang of salt seething off the bubbling sea could do nothing to burn away the fizzling want and joint annoyance banging against your ribcage, nor could the cool pinch of the jagged stone distract you from how restless you were feeling with Mihawk leaning so close.

'I bet I could find this treasure before you with my eyes blindfolded and my hands tied behind my back.'

The tangy breeze curls the strands of hair loosened behind his right ear, and by all the wishes in the world did you want so badly to tuck it back into place.

'Careful now, turtle.' He takes another step forward, effectively pinning you between the cove wall and his rigid chest. For the first time since your injudicious acquaintance with the warlord, you could feel it beat... no, feel it slam almost erratically. It seemed to jolt so ferociously against his pec, if he weren't restraining himself from taking another step forward and diminishing you completely, you would have been able to feel it against the unbuttoned cotton of your shirt. 'You've been spending far too much time around Shanks. We wouldn't want to step on that shell and have it crack.'

'You want to go out searching for treasure... you? With a map that looks like it's been pulled out of a goldfish's behind.'

He takes that final step forward, and as the buckle of his belt hits against the top of your groin, you find your obstinate bearing falter far faster than you were proud to admit.

'I find myself bored, and you may provide a fleeting distraction.'

The trimmed hair coating his jaw feels warm as it glides across the side of your cheek, but you still can't help but tremble. His voice: gruff and warm as it rumbles a devastating gale across the side of your nose nearly makes your breath hitch. Nearly. But just the mere thought: the mere tremble of your pulse point as you tried to swallow back down your pride as its slippery tendrils latched and slithered its way up the back of your throat was enough to give the game away.

Your thighs tremble as his leg slid up against between your calves, and you gave yourself away completely.

Mihawk's lips turn up at the edges, and the bastard had the audacity to pin your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Imperturbed, as if unsnarling a feeble swallow's wings clipped by a wild springe, the man looming over your torso raises your face. Closer and closer and closer: his unbreaking gaze almost unnerving. Almost. If it hadn't been for that glint of delight festering in the corner of his swirls.

'Why bother, then?', you swallow thickly. 'If it's not a challenge.'

'I may find it fun.' His hand drops down to your collar bone: his grip firm, resolute, surprisingly warm as his fingertips constrict at the feel of your bare skin.

'No, really', you manage to pant out between laboured breaths, shaking your head out to try and stop yourself from becoming distracted by the racy feeling beginning to ball in the pit of your stomach.

He was playing you, you thought, biting down on your tongue and pretending the pressure of his thumb pad faintly pressing down on the strip of skin just above your left breast wasn't making you go lightheaded. He was toying with you. Snap out of it!

'Tell me the truth, and I'll do it. Why are you really here?'

'Perhaps I just like to see you squirm, like a little rabbit...', his hand rises from his side to slide up the inside of your wrist almost painstakingly slowly, his words dying out once he's encircled the bone with his vice-like grip. The next utterance is caught only by your ear as a whisper in the wind. 'Caught in my snare.'

Although he doesn't cut off your airway - he would never do anything to outright cause you physical harm - the finger still resting on collar bone crawls across your throat. His finger nails scratch like pinpricks from sharpened knives as he claws over your pulse point, before running the side of his finger back underneath your chin.

He looks almost... contemplative, as his eyes dart furtively down to linger over the top seam of your lip.

It's the first time, during all your years of solicitous enmity, that you had ever seen him distracted.

Using the opportunity, you manage to break free of his trance - of his hold on you. Grabbing onto his sleeve, you tug him towards you with all the force shaking through your burning body, appreciating the slight widening of his eyes in surprise as you slam his back against the wall of rock. You press yourself against the taut, constricting muscles of his abdomen, holding one hand firmly against his waist. The other snakes around to pin his wrist against the scrap of trouser by his hip, every cell in your bodies ablaze as he flexes his fingers. They curl into a ball over his fist, dangerously close to brushing across the back of your hand.

He could move you, of course. If he wanted to, he could flick you off him like a stray piece of sand, dusting you off as if you weighed as much as a handful of pebbles.

But he gave it away. God, how hard he had been trying not to: how hard he was trying to stop his body from flushing an increasingly paler shade of white at how mortified he was. How infuriated he was. How ensnared he was.

He didn't move. He gave himself away completely.

All he did was tilt his head back, and half-smiled expectantly at the sound of your dagger being sheathed from its thigh-scabbard; he was intrigued by the way you jutted its tip just below his Adam's apple, tilting his face to meet the steel.

'Don't forget, I still owe you for that time on the Nammu Isles.'

He tuts, eyes shining dangerously in the glare. 'Are you talking about the time I saved your pathetic life?'

You jut your chin forward, imposing your face against his own. 'I mean the time you took my bounty. You better stop talking, oh mighty warlord of the sea, before I shave that pretty little moustache off hair by hair.'

For a moment, there's nothing but the rhythmic brush of his breath against the pursed lines of your full lips: the odd jolt of the tip of his nose hitting against your own as he observes like with the intensity and rigidness of a man possessed.

Without breaking eye contact, he makes as if to lean forward and kiss you, but instead butts his elbow into your stomach and uses your doubled-over state to swipe the knife out of your fingers.

'You may have that back, if you win.' He toys with it, almost looking teasing as he tucks the small blade into his breast pocket.

'I'll take your sword, too.' You wipe your hand across your mouth before placing your palms on your knees, smiling up at the swordsman. You would be damned, if after all this time, you would give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered he made you.

He bows his head, trying in vain to hide his amusement. He does, however, slap at the hand that's tentatively reaching behind his back, subtly trying to latch on to the hilt of jaded Yoru.

'Of course, if you win. Such a shame that you never stood a chance.'

'I look forward to wielding that sword', you hum in a sing-song tone as you creak your back up again, placing one hand on your hip and your other pointer finger ostentatiously on your chin. Raising your eyes to the sky, you pretend to think deeply as watch two seagulls squawk, stream and tumble past each other, darting through the streaming white clouds. 'I bet I could make some delicious Aburaage with it.'

'And if I win, I look forward to taking that awful hat from you.'

Looking on in disbelief, Shanks shakes his head and tilts back to face the rest of his slack-jaw, gobsmacked crew.

'Right, bets on boys. Which of our beloved numbskulls will be the first to make a move?'

'I mean, he couldn't be more obvious!', Yasopp chimes in, fiddling some loose berries out of his trouser pockets and slamming down into his Captain's awaiting hands. 'I bet he drew that map himself!'

Benn Beckman rolls his eyes, but joins in with the circling chorus of laughter as Shanks slaps his arm against his back. 'It is the fourth time this month he's shown up with a map for Y/n.'

'Well, no matter what happens-', Shanks replies, squatting down onto his hammock again and distractedly counting through the coins he's collected, 'we have to be thankful to Y/n! After all, all proceeds and winnings will be going towards restocking our drink supplies!'

[babybatscreationsv2]

Silk and Gold

Marvel | Starker

When a train robbery goes wrong, Peter takes the blame a man's death. Weeks pass while Peter hides out from Sheriff Stane and his men, but eventually it becomes clear that he'll never be able to go home unless he can get them off his back. Anthony Stark is notorious in the crime world and getting Peter out of trouble would be child's play for him, but he doesn't just give things like that away for free. Gold and silk mean little to a man who can take whatever he wants.

Rating: Explicit

Prompt fill for anon

Warning and tags below

Warnings/tags: romnoncon/coercion, humiliation, pain kink, first time, rough sex, face slapping, breed kink, size kink, minor character death, western AU

They knew the dynamite would give them away, they just didn't know how quickly the sheriff and his men would be on them. It took longer than Peter expected for the train to stop even as it crashed. It continued to skid an impressive distance, tearing apart the ground beneath it. Peter and his posse cheered as it finally came to a stop beside the blasted tracks. It was gonna cost the rail company a pretty penny to replace all of this. After they refused to hire Peter on for so many months and left him hungry and lost, he reckoned they deserved the trouble it got them.

Harry went right for the cargo while MJ went to fish the stunned conductor from the wreckage. He was banged up good, but alive. She tied his arms to his back and marched him away from the train in case it blew. Peter figured it was good for Harry to bring his wife along for jobs like this. Kept him righteous.

He joined his friend in the cargo car. Harry has the biggest smile on his face.

"Look at this! Nothing but fine jewelry and look!" He held up a sheer white scarf. "Silk all the way from China. Do you know what this is worth?"

"Hope it's worth as much as gold since that's what you promised me." Peter looked around the crates. They were chest high and stuffed to the brim with goods.

Harry scoffed and tossed him something. Peter caught it in his hands. The gold gleamed in the low sunlight. "A pocket watch? What's the point in making something like that out of gold?"

Harry laughed. "What you gotta learn, Pete, is that the people who have gold want to show it off. Leaving it in a vault for folk like us to break in and steal? Where's the fun in that? No, they want everyone to see what they've got and writhe with jealousy."

"Writhe?"

"Yeah it's like... squirming in pain. Writhe."

Peter nodded. He pushed open another crate and started digging in. Scarfs, skirts, watches, and necklaces all were stuffed into his bag. Then they heard MJ call.

"It's the sheriff! They're on us!" she shrieked.

They both jumped and ran to the door. Sure enough five horses were barreling their way. Peter looked for his own and found it far out of reach. If he whistled it would only reach him as the sheriff did. They might even shoot her down.

MJ appeared at the back of the train car, sitting atop her and Harry's horse. He climbed on behind her.

"Come on, Pete!" He offered his hand.

Peter looked at the horse, then back at the sheriff. She could handle the weight if only for a mile or two. They just needed to get away. He grabbed Harry's hand and jumped up behind him. He clung to his friend's chest as they both leaned in.

Bullets pinged off the metal of the train. Harry took out his gun and fired back.

"Don't hit them!" MJ warned.

"I'm not, I'm not," Harry soothed. "Just tryin' to keep them back."

"It's not working," she huffed.

Peter clenched his jaw. They were too heavy. The mare wasn't strong enough. The longer they drew this out, the weaker she would be. If he let go now, she might have enough in her for them to get away.

So he let go.

"Pete!" Harry called. He reached back for him, but Peter slipped back right off the horse's rear. Harry screamed his name.

Peter hit the ground and rolled as best as he could, but the angle was wrong and he still twisted his ankle. At least nothing felt broken. He sprinted for the nearby hills.

MJ turned the horse around. Peter waved her off, silently begging her to go. They'd follow the easier the target. Or better yet, they might split up. Either way, that horse was fast and she knew this area well. They'd be okay.

Peter could just make out her frustrated huff as Harry convinced her to go.

He kept running. A bullet struck the ground not far from his hip, but he didn't look back. There were two behind him, maybe three. They were gaining fast, aiming for his legs. But they didn't reach him before he reached the hills.

"Peter Parker! We know that's you, boy!" The sheriff called across the distance. "Stop now before this gets ugly!"

His anxious stomach didn't care for that idea, but he kept running anyway, right into the old mine shaft. It had been abandoned for only a few years now. The place was overrun with snakes and the miners had left after the third death. He couldn't be sure if they would follow him inside or that they wouldn't try to stake him out, but he couldn't outrun a horse.

The mine sloped down, blocking out the light from above. Peter slowed to a quick walk until finally he couldn't see past the end of his nose and he stopped. He squatted down in the dark and felt around in the dirt. His hands found the cold metal of an old mine cart. Careful not to make a sound, he crawled behind it.

"Parker!" the sheriff called as he reached the entrance. He heard one of the horses whinny.

"Careful, Sheriff. There's snakes in there. Horses can tell," one of his men said.

"The only snake in there is Peter Parker," he huffed. "And I ain't leavin without him."

Peter jumped as a loud sound came from not too far away. He felt the slightest tremble in the ground.

"What the hell?" someone said.

"Down there! The base of the mountain is smoking!"

"That damned Osborn. He set off an avalanche!" the sheriff said.

"What about the others? They could have killed them. They could need our help."

"Dammit!" They were quiet for a moment. "Alright. You stay here and wait for the boy to come out. We'll go and check it out. Do not leave until you have him. Ya hear?"

"Yes, sir."

Two horses galloped away. It was silent. Then he heard feet shuffling in the dirt and an irritated huff. Peter leaned his head back against the cart. No one seemed keen on following himself at least. He could rest for a few minutes. He hoped the others were okay. They'd probably done that for him. Too bad it would be for nothing if he couldn't get away.

He couldn't see any deeper into the shaft. There was only the light behind and slightly above him. He could feel a breeze coming up from below. Somewhere down there must have been a second entrance, but it was too dark to see and he'd never been that deep.

"Come on out already! We already know how this ends!" the man at the entrance hollered. "Either you get bit down there or you come crawling out and we drag you down to the jailhouse."

Peter didn't respond.

"Unless you've been bit already..."

He just breathed. Thinking. There had to be a way out of this. He'd done this plenty of times before. There was only one of them. The only problem was that Peter didn't have a gun. He didn't like the things. It seemed wrong to kill a man so impersonally. Killing shouldn't be easy. Not that he wanted to kill anyone.

He got an idea.

"Alright, you win!" he called up. "I'm coming out! Just don't shoot!"

"Why the change of heart?" he called back suspiciously.

"I heard something moving down there. I don't know what it is, but better a jail cell then a rattler!"

"Yeah? Come on out then."

Peter stood and shuffled his feet around in the dirt. After a moment he cried out.

"My foot! It's stuck! I stepped in a hole or something!"

"That ain't my problem. You got yourself in there."

"Please! There's something in here! I can't move!"

The man sighed. "Dammit... you better not be pullin’ my leg."

Peter stayed hidden behind the cart as he heard him approach. "Thank you! You're a good man!"

"Yeah yeah- holy hell..." the man stopped. Peter's heart sank as he heard it. A rattle.

"Aw fuck! You tricked me! You damned bastard! When I get ahold of you I'm gonna put on between your eyes and push right into the bottom of this mine. Stane won't know what happened to ya!"

"Shut up!" Peter hissed. "You're gonna piss it off. I didn't know it was there, okay? I was bluffing."

"You're a liar and a coward, Peter Parker!" The rattling stopped. The man took a step and it started up again. "To hell with this."

Peter flinched at the sound of a gunshot. There were two more. Then the man screamed. Peter closed his eyes. The gun shots stopped, but the screaming continued.

He peeked around the cart. He couldn't see much, just a shadow of something squirming. Slowly, he came out of his hiding place.

"You alright?" he asked.

The man sobbed.

Peter approached slowly. There was no rattling. No signs of any snakes. As he came close, he could see that the man was pale in the face. He clutched at his chest. There was a lot of blood. The thing had bit him multiple times on the legs and hands. As he came close, the man collapsed. He was still breathing, but he needed a doctor.

He could hear horses in the distance. There was no time for sympathy. Stane would find him and take care of him surely. He had to worry about himself for now. He'd be okay.

Peter ran from the mine. Behind him he heard the tell tale rattle, but nothing bit at his ankles. Lucky.

He found the deputy's horse a few paces from the mine. It must have balked when it heard the snake. It didn't mind Peter climbing onto its back and let him ride it back toward town. He rode for a while, sometimes doubling back, leaving a mess of tracks in the dry soil. Then he rode off into the pastures.

He managed to hide out for a few days before someone spotted him and sent Stane after him. He couldn't go back to MJ's farm while Stane was looking for him, so he left town altogether. Only to find that the next town over had already been alerted about the train robbery. And not just the robbery, but the dead deputy, too. Sheriff Stane blamed him. Despite the obvious snake bites and the fact that Peter was far from a snake charmer, he was still wanted for murder. Everyone was looking for him and once he was caught, he'd be hanged. He had nowhere to run.

The golden pocket watch bought him a room and some food and the silence of a gruff old man who didn't seem to care who he was or what he was up to. Then he was on the run again. But he couldn't run forever.

That's how he ended up back home. He kept his head down. The brim of his hat shaded his face. His heart pounded. He'd heard word that the sheriff and his crew were out dealing with bandits down by the mill outside of town. Even if someone recognized him and wanted to turn him in, they couldn't. So long as no one wanted to take the law into their own hands. But it wasn't as if he'd hurt anyone.

He'd hear whispers in his travels about a man thought of as a king among criminals. He'd never met Anthony Stark in person, but he was notorious in his town. Despite being a gangster, the law looked the other way when it came to Stark. If only because he owned the only brothel for miles around. Others swore he'd saved all sorts of criminals from fates as grim as the noose. Appealing to Stark might just be his only chance.

Peter entered through the swinging doors. Inside seemed nothing more than a dimly lit saloon. A woman tended the bar. She was beautiful with a face caked in paints and powders and her hair done up in curls that fell around her round face. She smiled kindly as he entered.

"Can I help you, mister?" she asked sweetly.

Across the room, a man played a soft and soothing tune on the piano. A patron was asleep with his head down on a table and four empty bottles beside his head. Peter approached the bar.

"Yes, ma'am, I hope so. I'm looking for Mr. Stark."

Her smile fell. Her eyes ran over him coldly. "A boy like you?" she tsked. "What'd he rope you into?"

Peter shook his head. "Nothing like that, ma'am. I just need his help."

She laughed bitterly. "Oh sure. I suppose you just need him to help you patch your momma's fencing." She rolled her eyes. "It ain't none of my business. I work up front so I ain't gotta know."

With her hands on the bar she looked at a door at the back of the room. "Let me just see if he's available, alright kid?"

"Thank ya, ma'am." Peter nodded his head politely. He leaned against the bar as she walked away. His heart raced. Sure, he was a criminal himself but that was largely out of necessity. He'd tried doing things the honest way. Stark was different. They said his father had been a gangster and his father before him. They were criminals before they'd even crossed the pond.

The woman returned to the bar. "He says he'll see you, but don't waste his time," she sighed. "He's been awful bored lately. Mind you don't piss him off. He'll take great pleasure in making you regret it. He might cure his boredom using you for target practice."

"Thanks." Peter swallowed, doing his best to shove his anxiety down with it. He walked past the bar and into the next room.

It was a large bedroom. As big as MJ's whole house. One massive bed sat against one wall along with a desk and a wardrobe. On the other side of the room was a couple of sofas in front of a fireplace. A man sat in a chair facing the door. On the table beside him was a book and a glass of whiskey with little more than a drop left at the bottom.

"Mr. Stark?"

"That's me," the man said. He crossed one leg over the other. His jaw rested against his knuckles as he examined him.

"It's nice to meet you, sir. My name's Peter Parker." He stepped forward and offered his hand, but the man didn't move so he let it fall.

"I know. Who else would be so desperate as to come to me?" He smiled. "I'm awful scary, ain't I?"

Peter smiled back. "You seem decent to me, sir. I hear you're someone to admire."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir. They say you're brilliant. But I didn't come here just to flatter you, sir." Peter opened up his bag. He froze as Stark pointed his gun at him. "I'm not armed, I swear."

"You just show me what you got, nice and slowly."

Peter nodded. Shaking, he pulled a silk scarf from the bag. "See? I took a few things from that train a couple weeks back. It's all yours if you help me."

"You did an awful lot more than rob a train. They say that deputy died quite a slow, awful, death. A bit of silk can't get you out of the pinch you're in."

"I know that. There's plenty more. I went and buried it, but I'll show you where if you promise to help me. Please, sir."

Stark didn't look impressed, but he put his gun away. His eyes seemed to roam Peter's body. Perhaps he was bored already.

"Listen, I have tons more silk, just like this one. And jewelry, too. Diamonds and gold, a pearl necklace..."

Stark rose from his seat and walked towards him, one heavy step at a time, as Peter babbled. His voice trailed off as they were nose to nose. Stark lifted his hand slowly like you might around a stray animal. His fingers dragged up his throat and up to hold his chin. With the other hand, he took the hat from his head and tossed it onto the bed.

"Baby, I don't want your jewels," he purred.

Peter swallowed. "Then what..." He shivered as he realized. He couldn't mean that could he? But those eyes, those dark and dilated pupils. The way he looked at him with more hunger than he'd ever seen in a man before. Tony's lips curled into a lazy grin as he watched his face.

His hand slid along his jaw to the back of his neck. Peter stood frozen in place as Stark leaned in and pressed their lips together. He'd always heard it was bad etiquette to kiss a whore. It's too intimate. Save it for your wife, they say. He understood why now. Stark kissed like he was savoring the taste of him as if he were the finest wine or the juiciest cut of meat. His lips felt so unexpectedly plump and so enticingly warm. Then they parted so slightly and the tip of his tongue teased the seam of his lips. Peter sighed, longing and deep. Pleasure flowed like whiskey through his blood. It made him feel warm and hazy and found himself reaching for him, kissing him back with a hand on his waist.

When realized what he was doing, where he was, and why. He pushed him back, taking a step back, himself.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he gasped, panic jolting through him. "I can't- I-"

"Do you want my help or not?" He looked at him, both eyebrows raised. His face was flushed. "I hate to ask twice."

Peter swallowed. He straightened his back. "No, sir. I'm sorry. I'll find some other way."

"Think you can bribe Stane with those pretty silks of yours? He can just take them off your corpse when they're done hanging you, sweetheart."

He took another step back. His heart pounded in his ears. "I'm sorry," he said again. Then he backed out the door. He ran through the bar and back outside.

The afternoon sun blazed against his face. He was still holding the scarf in one hand and people were staring. He stuffed it into his bag and hurried down the street. He had to find somewhere to hide for the night, get out of town in the morning. Maybe he'd be better off heading east. He could use the jewelry to buy a train ticket. He was mapping it all out in his mind, putting a new plan together when someone pulled a sack right over his head.

Peter lashed out, swinging his fists, but someone grabbed him around the middle.

"Just you hold still," they laughed.

"You ain't goin nowhere!" said another. They dragged him, kicking and fighting, down the dirt road. He couldn't see, but he felt it when his feet hit the wooden deck. They dragged him inside, out of the sun and into somewhere stuffy.

"Let me go!" he screamed.

"Alright, here ya go," someone mocked. He heard metal clanking. Someone yanked his bag off his shoulders and over his head. Then they shoved him.

He fell face first, catching himself on his hands and spraining his wrist. He yanked the sack off of his head and turned around to see three men slamming the cell door. They turned the key in the lock.

"You've got a lot of nerve comin' 'round here, Parker," one of them jeered. He looked scruffy and his clothes were spotted with sweat stains.

"Don't you know how much Stane is offering for ya? We're all takin’ our retirement tomorrow," another one said. This one had sun dark skin that was still peeling beneath his eyes. They didn't look any different than your average working men. They had a lot to gain from a bounty. He'd been an idiot to come into town.

"I didn't kill anyone! You're hanging an innocent man," Peter tried.

"That's too bad. We get paid either way. Doesn't matter what the sheriff does with ya."

"Are you sure?" One of the guys said. "What if he's really innocent?"

Another guy laughed. "Yeah, right. He'd say anything to get himself out of there."

The door opened and in walked Obadiah Stane. He smirked when he saw Peter in the cell.

"Nice work, fellas. Go and talk to Beck about your payment."

They hurried off without so much as a look back at Peter. Then it was just the two of them alone.

"Thought you'd got away with it did ya, Parker?"

"I didn't kill him. You know I didn't. You have to. You saw what that snake did to him."

Stane looked surprised, but Peter didn't buy it. "Snake? No, you hacked him up like the lunatic you are and dumped the pieces in the bottom of that mine."

"You can't do this! I'll tell the judge everything!"

"What judge?" Stane chuckled. "Don't ya know he's out of town? Been gone a week now already. Won't be back for a month or two. And I ain't waitin' that long. Not when I've got such a cruel, sadistic, killer on my hands." His lips spread into a wide, cruel grin. Then he burst into laughter so strong that he held his belly.

"Someone's gotta pay for this, kid. I ain't sorry that it's you. All you and those Osborns do is cause trouble. Only I can't bother them can I? The town'd have a fit if I messed with Norman's son. You, though, nobody will miss."

Peter swallowed. He was right. He should have thought about that back at the train. Not that he would ever willingly throw Harry to the wolves, but maybe they could have come up with a better plan. "What about the goods? All the jewels and silk that I took? I'll tell you where I hid them if you let me go."

Stane turned around and walked to the desk. He picked up Peter's bag and rifled through it. "There's more out there somewhere, that it?"

"I buried it."

Stane looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Now what would you do a thing like that for, son?"

"I'm not just gonna walk around with valuables like that on my person. I'm not an idiot."

"Aren't you just?" Stane chuckled. He patted the bag. "This'll do just fine. It's a steal for me either way. I get to hang the bastard that killed a dear friend and I get a couple of prizes."

"I didn't kill him, Stane!"

The sheriff shrugged. "It was your fault he was in that damned mine, wasn't it? Sounds to me like you killed him."

Peter clenched his teeth. There was nothing he could say and nothing he could do. He sat down on the bench against the wall. Stane left him alone. He kicked his feet up on the desk and took to reading the paper. He wasn't sure how he fell asleep, but a while later, he woke to the feeling of being watched.

The sun was low, now. Dawn or dusk, he wasn't sure, but it was dark. Stane wasn't at his desk, but someone else was looming outside his cell.

"Come to say I told you so?" Peter asked. He sat up on the bench and rubbed the sleep from his face.

Stark smirked. He leaned against the bars. "I didn't come to talk." He held up the key to Peter's cell.

Peter jumped up and ran to the door. "You're getting me out?"

"That depends on you, doesn't it? I know I said I hate to ask twice, but it's a damn shame to let such a pretty thing go without a fight."

Peter paled. He couldn't believe he was still asking, but dammit if he wasn't desperate enough now.

"What do you say, pretty boy?" Tony reached through the bars to pet the side of his face. Two fingers traced the shape of his lips. He had a curious look in his eyes. Peter watched him with a racing heart. Then those fingers pushed past his lips. He didn't know why, but he allowed it. He shivered when he tasted them on his tongue. They pushed back into his throat and Peter swallowed.

"Are you gonna be a good whore for me?" Tony whispered. He thought about telling him no, but the threat of the noose made his blood run cold. He'd do anything and he hated himself for it, but he would. Peter nodded, fingers still between his lips. "Yeah, you are. Look at you."

He took his fingers from his mouth. Peter swayed, off balance by the sudden movement. Tony unlocked the cell and stepped inside. Peter felt cornered as he approached.

"You ever been with a man, Pete?" Peter shook his head. Tony smiled. "Good. I like to play teacher."

Peter backed into the wall as Tony came closer. His fingers touched his lips again. "You seem like a smart kid. I bet you already know what a whore uses this for."

Peter's face grew hot. "Go on, sweetheart. What's it for?" His fingers brushed over his lips, tracing them in circles. Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. The back of Tony's hand battered the side of his face. A startled cry escaped him. His whole body tensed for a fight, but Tony grabbed him by the throat. Peter glared as Tony pried open his jaw and forced his fingers inside, stretching his mouth around four of them.

"What's this fucking hole for, Pete? Huh?"

Peter struggled. He tried to tell him to stop, but his mouth was stretched to its limit as Tony tried to fit his hand in wrist deep. He held it back as long as he could, but two of Tony's fingers brushed the back of his throat and he choked. Tony slapped him again.

"Come on, you're a smart boy." He jerked his arm back and forth like he was fucking his mouth with his fingers. His face was a mess of spit. As he tried to escape, Tony's hand left his neck to grab him by the hair instead. It was much more effective at keeping him still, forcing him to submit. When he stopped struggling, he realized it was much easier if he relaxed. He blinked back tears and looked at the man's face.

"That's a good boy," Tony cooed. "Tell me."

"For..." Peter tried to speak around Tony's hand. Smirking, Tony pulled his fingers out of his mouth and held his chin.

"For sucking your cock, sir."

"Very good," Tony purred. "You're gonna be a good student, aren't ya? You gonna make me proud?"

Peter blushed as he realized the man was waiting for an answer. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"What was that?" Tony barely tapped his cheek, but Peter still flinched.

"Yes, sir," he said louder.

"Good boy. So where should you be?"

Peter's eyes widened, then they flicked to the floor. It wasn't that he'd thought he was joking, but if he had to go through with it, well, he hadn't counted on being an active participant in his own violation.

He slid down the wall to his knees. He stared firmly at Tony's thighs, hands refusing to move.

"Are you waiting for permission? We're well past that, cock sucker."

Peter pressed his lips together and swallowed down the insult. He focused straight ahead, pushing any singular thought to the back of his mind as he unhooked the man's belt. He slid it through the loops and unzipped his pants. Shame heated his skin, but still he wrapped his hand around Tony's cock and pulled it free, sliding his pants down just enough. He just had to get through this. Then he would be free. He started to pump his cock in his hand, breathing steadily, refusing to react. He could go back to Harry and MJ and finally take them up on that offer to be their farm hand. Even if it was a hand out. It was better than this.

Tony's hand connected with his face again. This time Peter glared up at him, body gone stiff on instinct. Tony grabbed him by the hair, capturing both of his wrists in one hand when he reached for his arm. He shook him, hair tugging at his scalp.

"You're here with me, kid. I don't want any glassy eyed 'close your eyes and dream of London' bullshit, you got me? If you're gonna do it, do it right."

"Sorry, sir," Peter cried. Tony let go of him. He was shaken. The fight fled his system leaving him docile, even tamed.

"Try again," Tony ordered.

Peter tried again, this time focusing on what he was doing. Shame twisted in his stomach like coiling snakes.

"That's much better," Tony praised. He ran his fingers through Peter's hair. "Open up, now."

He let Tony pull him in as he parted his lips. His cock was bigger than he'd thought, forcing him to open wider to take the head into his mouth. He shivered as the salty taste touched his tongue. At least it didn't taste too bad. He focused again before Stark could get mad at him again. He licked all around the head and traced the ridges with his tongue. He wasn't sure he was doing it right, but if he did a decent job, this could be over quicker. He tried sucking on it and running his tongue down the length. None of this seemed to get much of a reaction until he looked up. Their eyes met and he felt it as Tony's cock throbbed against his tongue. His hand tightened just a bit in his hair and he pushed into his mouth just a little bit more.

"Such a pretty thing," Tony sighed. With one hand he pet Peter's cheek. "You want to please me don't you? I can tell."

There was something to his words that made him blush. He tried taking more of him into his mouth, moving up and down his length, all while gazing up at him. It was embarrassing, but Stark seemed to enjoy it. He watched him with those dark, hungry eyes. Rich sighs and moans left his lips. Peter kept going, undeniably proud of himself as he puzzled out what the man liked. He didn't hate it. The friction, the fullness, it felt good. And he liked getting such reactions out of a man so powerful. A man with countless whores at his disposal, no less.

Tony grabbed his hair and stopped him. "Keep your mouth open," he ordered. Then he trust his hips, fucking into his mouth as if it were a cunt. Embarrassment burned even hotter under his skin. It was one thing to suck a man off, but it was another to have his mouth as if he wasn't even attached to it. But he sat, still and obedient, mouth hanging open. Drool ran over his chin and he ignored it. Tony's cock, forced open his throat, drawing obscene noises out of him, but only seemed to make Tony moan, so he didn't protest. He thought for sure the man was close to the edge, for sure it was almost over. And then he stopped and released him.

"Strip and get on the bed."

Peter stared at him for a moment as he tried to decipher what he was being asked. He wiped the drool off his face and stood. He yanked the laces on his boots and kicked them off. Then hesitantly, he started to unbutton his shirt until Tony smacked his hand.

"No. You can't please a man like that, sweetheart. You gotta work a little harder. Go slowly."

Face burning, Peter unbuttoned his shirt while Tony watched. "Good. Now let it roll off your shoulders. There now you can pull it off your arms."

Peter swallowed. The way he looked at him, at his body, felt violating. Almost more so than the way he'd brutalized his throat. He grabbed the back of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, going slowly in hopes of avoiding any more criticism. Right or wrong, Tony allowed it. He stood ogling Peter's toned chest down to his abdomen. His tongue slipped out, running over his bottom lip as he admired his narrow hips.

"Keep going."

He couldn't look at Tony, but he couldn't pretend he hated his eyes on him either. Coerced though he might be, the guy was still handsome, still powerful, still kissed as if he would devour him. He wanted that again.

Peter unhooked his belt and pulled it slowly through the loops. He unbuttoned his jeans and slowly dragged them down to his knees before he let them drop and pushed them aside along with his socks. Then he stood, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear. Bravely, he looked up and met Tony's eye before he pulled them down and added them to the mess on the floor.

It startled him how fast Tony moved and how violently he grabbed him. His fingers dug into his arms and his neck. Their mouths latched together. His back hit the wall, but he didn't care. Tony was kissing him, making him gasp for breath, making him moan when their tongues brushed together. He pressed in closer, pushing Peter harder into the wall. His thigh was against Peter's groin and as he moved, Peter whined, his cock hard and overstimulated by the rough texture of his still open jeans. His hand squeezed his throat. Peter felt like he was melting. There wasn't a thought in his head beyond wanting more.

When Tony stopped, Peter ached for him. "Get on the bench," he ordered. He let Peter go and took a step back. He watched him with predatory eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Peter swallowed. He slowly stepped to the side as he might startle a wild animal. He found the bench and bent over it, bracing himself on his arms. His heart raced. Surely it couldn't be that bad.

"Oh no, baby boy," Tony chuckled. "This is your first time. Lay on your back."

Face burning, Peter turned around and laid back on the hard wood. The bench wasn't long enough to stretch his legs out, forcing him to bend his knees. The embarrassment could have killed him. Tony looked down at him, ogling his body while he stroked his cock. He'd coated it in some kind of lubricant at least. It made a vulgar wet sound as he touched himself. Still it looked huge from this angle. Like it might truly break him in half.

"That's a good boy. I want to make this special for you, sweetheart. Just like a honeymoon." He stepped in between his legs and knelt on the bench. There was barely enough room for the both of them. Tony hiked one of his legs up and put it over his shoulder. Peter's hands went up to cover his face, but Tony pulled them back down.

"None of that. Can't have my beautiful bride hiding away." He winked.

A retort came to his tongue. Then Tony started to push his cock inside him and all Peter could get out of his mouth was, "Ah ah ah," he was split open.

Tony bent and captured his lips. Peter let him have whatever he wanted, following him in the kiss, entirely submissive to his whims. As easily as if he'd flipped a switch, he felt like he had no resistance left. He didn't know if it was the pain or the pleasure that had overwhelmed him, but he was done for.

Tony moaned against his mouth. "You like that don't you? I knew you would. I've got an eye for boys who need to be bred."

"Hurts," Peter gasped.

Tony chuckled. "Does it? Does it hurt, sweetheart? Or does it feel like the best fucking thing that's ever happened to you?" He moved his hip, just a fraction, but Peter wailed. It was good. It was so good. It burned and he felt stretched open and humiliated, but it felt so good. Blindingly good.

His cock just kept going deeper all while Peter could do nothing but moan in pain and pleasure. If you'd asked him, he would have sworn it was in his stomach.

"Look at that," Tony mused. "You're just the right size." He smacked his hips against Peter's ass. His eyes rolled back in his head and for a moment he saw spots. Peter gasped as his cock was touched. The shock of it made him half sit up, moving the cock inside him and melting his brain once again. Tony pushed him back down with a hand on his chest.

"Just relax, pretty boy. You're my playing thing now. I can touch whatever I want. Can't I?"

Peter stared up at him dumbly, words a million miles away. Tony's eyebrow twitched and he knew what was coming but he couldn't move to stop it. His hand struck his cheek. It brought him back to life, if only a little.

"Yes, sir," Peter gasped.

"Yes, sir, what?"

"You can... touch whatever you want... sir."

"That's a good boy." He leaned in closer, folding Peter in half. Peter's eyes widened and his lips fell open as he felt his cock go even deeper. It really hurt now and somehow he loved it. Somehow he wanted more. His fingers dug into the sides of Tony's jeans as he tried to pull him closer.

"You want to be full," he teased. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm gonna fill you up right." His hand wrapped around his throat again. Then he started to move his hips. Peter didn't let go of his jeans though his grip was loose. That cock moving inside him was everything he didn't know he'd ever wanted. Whatever Tony wanted, he could have it as long as he kept fucking him. He'd take up walking on all fours and barking like a dog if he asked him to.

"You've got tears in your eyes, Pete. Did you find god hanging off my cock?" he teased. "You love it, don't you?"

"Yes," Peter gasped, only now, no shame followed the admission. He couldn't feel anything but pleasure. Greedy with it, he reached out and pulled Tony in for another kiss. He felt him grin against his mouth before giving him what he was asking for.

After a moment he stopped and grabbed Peter's wrist, pulling his hand away and pinning it beside his head. He grabbed Peter's hip with the other hand, holding him down as he fucked him hard, as deeply as he could get. Each thrust of his hips made him gasp, the sound of his own voice pitched higher each time, pleasure growing. He barely touched himself before he came, crying out, the sound echoing off the brick walls.

"That's my good boy," Tony purred. "You learn quickly don't you?" He moaned. He moved his hips faster now. It hurt as the pleasure of his orgasm faded, but just like the pain of his cock all the way in his stomach, it felt incredible. He only wanted more.

Peter whimpered, crying like an injured puppy, entirely shameless. He still wanted more. He needed it.

"That must hurt by now," Tony commented. "Don't tell me you like that, too."

Peter chewed his bottom lip. He didn't meet his eyes. Tony grabbed him by the hair, pushing his cock all the way in and holding him there like a fish on a hook.

"Tell me," he growled. He pulled so hard that his eyes watered.

"I liked it," Peter gasped. "I like the pain, sir."

Tony pulled harder and Peter moaned. "Fuck," Tony gasped. He let go of his hair to hold both of his hips. He fucked him like he wanted to snap his spine while all Peter could do was hold on. He slowed only enough to speak.

"Tell me you want me to breed you. Beg me for it."

Peter licked his dry lips. "Please, sir... breed me please," embarrassment broke his voice. "Please, Mr. Stark. I need it, sir." He wrapped his legs around the man's waist, caging him in. Moaning, Tony fucked him deep and finally came. Peter's eyes widened as he realized he could feel it. It was hot and wet and deep in his gut. He moaned and his own cock throbbed, begging for more. He stroked himself while Tony came inside him. When Tony realized what he was doing, he grinned lazily.

"What a little whore," he teased. "Keep going, sweetheart. Make yourself cum for me. Getting bred was more than you could handle, huh? Fucking cock hole." He grabbed him by the hair again and Peter moaned, cumming hard, his whole body shivering. He melted into a limp puddle beneath him.

Tony gave him another kiss. He almost wanted to cry as clarity returned to him. What the hell had he just done?

Peter cleared his throat. "Am I free now, sir? You'll get me out?"

Tony smiled. "Oh, you're free from the noose. I'll make Stane drop the charges against you."

Peter eyed him suspiciously. "What else do you want from me?"

"You're not finished with your end, Pete," he said as if speaking to a child. "That was just the trial run, sweetheart. I'm gonna take you somewhere nice and private for the real thing."

[buff-muffin]

A list of more things that happened in my childhood that totally fucking happened for the ASL brothers:

While they act all grown up and cool they still play games like tag and hide and seek, and usually Luffy being the youngest sucked at it. But once, he snuck into a crate in Dadan’s hut and they spent HOURS looking for him and each time Ace and Sabo left the hut frustrated he would poke his head out and giggle. The bandits were trying so hard not to give it away and Dadan was seconds away from bursting out with laughter.

Oh you can not convince me these fuckers didn’t go sledding all year round. We do know it snows on their home island. But they’re not gonna let the WEATHER tell them when they can and can’t sled. Luffy probably whined and whined till they grabbed some cardboard from the grey terminal found the steepest grassy hill and barrelled themselves straight down it. There were many face plants, grass stains, blood and broken cardboard but they certainly sledded.

I can’t help but think they still went swimming even if Luffy couldn’t, maybe they found something that floats well enough that he can join them in the deep end. But I can totally see them jumping off a certain cliff into the river trying to do flips and screaming. One of them also definitely belly flopped and had to lay still while the other two laughed their asses off. The amount of attempted drownings in those waters would be alarming

On the same topic as cardboard sledding I feel like they would also make other things out of the materials of the grey terminal. Like they found a perfectly good tire wheel and decided that’s their toy for the day. They got Luffy to climb in the centre and rolled him down a hill till he screamed and crashed into a tree. He did throw up but it was still funny. Maybe they made the dingiest saddest excuse for a go-kart to roll down those hills. Either way Luffy was the test dummy and always crashes.

These boys totally just had a day where they decided to just. Dig a hole. Luffy probably started it, Ace and Sabo said that’s stupid but after lunch they found themselves joining. They didn’t know why. It just looked fun. In the end they made a huge pit and not bothered to fill it back in Sabo turned it into a pitfall trap. They had fallen into their own trap too.

They spent a week fighting over a stump. Ace stood on it once and said something and all of a sudden Luffy and Sabo wanted it. It was king of the castle war until Ace and Sabo gave in cause it was suddenly ‘boring.’ they found a cooler stump.

[randomwriter5000]

The Chimera: Part Four

Pairing: Nicodeme Savoy x OC (Can be read as Nicodeme Savoy x Reader) Warnings: Accuracies and inaccuracies about the 1920s, use of Google Translate, Inaccuracies about gambling, and General sadness. Word Count: 3,763

Summary: The California Chimera. Born with a genetic abnormality causing her face to be split down the middle. Not only an oddity, but a source of fear for many as she is a notorious gun for hire across the United States. After a near death experience and the death of most of her family, Chimera now goes to the bustling town of St. Louis on a job. Used to other cats eyes looking at her in disgust and fear a new reaction catches her eye. A pair of cats that look at her with curiosity and wonder. One of them being Nicodeme Savoy. Could she be biting off more than she can chew with the Louisianan?

Part Four: Good Luck?

Summary: Perhaps it is time to have fun and ask questions.

“Goddammit!” Chimera heaved a large case into her blue car. “Why is gin so heavy?” She muttered to herself, attempting to regain the air in her lungs.  

Two weeks had passed since Nico got stabbed. Despite the expectation that she would have left St. Louis after that, Mr. Sweet gave her job after job. This was abnormal, yet Chimera couldn’t pass up easy money. Digging up a grave or two, getting some alcohol, and driving it back wasn’t too hard for the gun for hire. However, in Chimera’s head, this would be her last job unless Mr. Sweet gave her a contract.

In The Brothers of Peril, a gun for hire could be taken under a contract if the company owner wanted that person to work for them for an extended period. However, they tended to be hard to get because higher-ups of The Brothers of Peril had to approve the gun for higher working for that specific company. Other reasons for the contracts being hard to get included the higher-ups not wanting their members to be stuck or having a conflict of interest.

Closing the door, Chimera looked at the grave before tossing the shovel into the passenger side. Turning on the engine, she drove onto the dirt road. Before long, The Maribel Hotel was in the distance. Instead of the fancy front entrance of the hotel, Chimera drove her car into the alley and then into the back entrance. As her cars’ headlights came into view, a couple of other cats turned to look. Unbrothered, she pulled up beside them, turned off the engine, and exited the car.

The tallest had a cigarette in his mouth as he motioned for the other two to gather the cases from her car. “What did you get this time?”

“Three graves. Giving a total of 50 Bottles of gin and 20 bottles of Vodka,” She brushed off some gathered dirt on her pant legs. “Where’s my payment?” Her eyes narrowed as her money wasn’t in their hands like the past couple of weeks.

“Mr. Sweet has it,” The older grey cat dropped the cigarette to the ground before snuffing it out. “He wants to talk to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“Ask him that,” The cat shrugged, pulling out a crate of gin.

Taking a breath, Chimera walked up the concrete steps and took the back way to get to the luxurious office of Mr. Sweet. After a single knock, she was let in. With the quick glace she could take, she noted a piece of thick paper on the desk and a stack of cash. Cautiously walking into the chilling room, she sat down across from the golden cat. Taking the money into her paws, she counted the bills, ensuring she was paid correctly.

“How did it go?”

“Great until I didn’t see my money in your guy’s hands. What did you want to talk about?” Her eyes briefly glanced at the paper, seeing a familiar signature. Setting down the money, she looked at the form and saw the signature ‘Glen Balsamo.’ “When did you contact my brother?”

“The paperwork came in today,” He explained, lighting his cigar. “I’d like to offer you a year contract to work for me exclusively.” He pulled out a fountain pen from his coat pocket.

Her eyes narrowed at the contract as she read it over. The rules and specifications were simple and in line with the Brothers of Peril, yet she had numerous questions.  “You understand that you are buying my loyalty for a duration, correct?”

“Correct,” He nodded.

Her head tilted. “That means I will leave when you can’t afford me.” Mr. Sweet nodded once again. “What is your game? You have plenty of skilled fighters; Mordecai and Nico are some of them. Why would you pick someone who is part of the BP? And why did you pick me?”

“You are an unsuspecting force. You have multiple skills that my men don’t have. You speak four languages, have no problems with killing, and your reputation precedes you.” He motioned towards her.

Her ears twitched as her oddly colored eyes narrowed. “I feel there is more to that.”

Mr. Sweet smiled, tapping the cigar. “Does it really matter if I’m paying you?

“No, however, I’m allowed to do my due diligence,” She shot, looking over the contract again for any loopholes.

The contract was fair, and her brothers’ signatures boosted the legitimacy of the contract. “So, what is your answer?”

Reaching into her coat, she slowly pulled out her own fountain pen. Looking over the paper, she signed on the dotted line. “What is my next assignment?”

“Could you have at least given me a heads-up Glen?” Chimera hissed into the payphone. “You got me a good deal, sure, but what if I wanted to go somewhere else?”

On the other end, Glen sighed, rubbing his dark brown tabby fur. “Remember I called Yaya last week? Telling you to call me as soon as possible?”

‘Dammit,’ Chimera cursed internally. “I got busy-“ She was quickly cut off.

“Look, John told me how you want to go after the Red Snake,” He began. “He is in Canada. He isn’t coming back for a while.”

“That son of a-“

“He is looking out for you,” Her brothers' voice broke. “I can’t have a repeat of what he did to our family. You remember how you almost died in my arms?”

Her paw rubbed her shoulder unconsciously. “Glen, I was there when he killed Nick and Ben. You don’t have to remind me. I want justice. I want him to beg for his life when I stab him in the lung,” Fury and tears built in the cats’ eyes.  

“I can’t lose you!” The desperation and sadness in the cats’ voice sounded through the phone like an alarm, causing the female cats' ears to go flat against her head. “You’ve been pulling away. Everyone sees it. I know you will go rogue if you’re given the opportunity.” Her brother's voice broke even more as she could feel the tears pouring down her cheeks. “Please just stay there in St. Louis until we devise a plan. I promise we will get revenge on Mom and Dad's graves, just not now.”

Feeling her own tears run down her face, she sobbed, falling onto the phone booth floor.  “Please don’t cry,” Glen gave a tearful laugh. “I’d hate for people to see the mighty Chimera crying.”

“I’m sure they would also be surprised to see the Wraith crying too,” Chimera retorted, wiping her tears, then looked down at her feet.

A silence grew between the siblings. “I know these couple years have been rough. I miss them more than any words can express, but life continues on, and they wouldn’t want to see you like this,” His voice cracked. “They would want to see the girl who found joy in life despite being serious in the business. I’m not saying we need to forget about them, but we must carry on for them.”

She nodded to the phone as her tail curled around her for comfort. “Is that the same speech you gave at the funeral?” She laughed along with Glen.

“Sometimes we need to hear things twice,” He retorted as some shuffling was heard on his end. “Isn’t it midnight in St. Louis?” Glen shot.

“Isn’t it one in the morning in New York?” She retorted.

“God, you are a little shit,” He chuckled. “I love you little sister,”

“I love you too,” Chimera tearfully smiled as she hung up the phone.

Pushing herself from the phone booth floor, Chimera walked out into the crisp Missouri air and sat on the curb. The chill of the air ran through her fur as her eyes stared down at her boots. Occasionally picking and rubbing at the scuffs on the leather. The logic in her head was in a heated battle with the looming storm cloud of revenge. However, she knew that her brother was right. If she died, she would leave her last brother alone because of her selfish desires. There was also no guarantee she could find The Red Snake if she went alone. Then, the scary question snuck in.

What if she felt no change when he died? What if that looming cloud lingered? What if it never went away?Sighing, Chimera wiped the last bits of her salty tears stinging her eyes. Looking up at the night sky decorated with its crescent moon and shining stars, she took a deep breath.

“What am I supposed to do?” She muttered, looking up at the sky, only for everything to stay in place. Chimera looked down at the asphalt and laughed. “What the hell am I doing?”

“Sittin’ outside,” A voice spoke. With her knife in hand and fur flared, Chimera spun around fast enough to give anyone whiplash. Only for Nico to come into her vision

A cackling laugh escaped Nico as he walked forward. “Da hell, Cher? I thought dat you couldn’t be snuck up on?” His charming smile reluctantly made the cat relax.

The oddly colored flared fur of the cat went down as she turned back to stare out into the road. “I am normal, believe it or not,” She answered, putting her knife back into her coat. “What are you doing out here?”

“Gettin’ some fresh air,” He walked beside the cat that continued to look out to the street, occasionally picking at her boot. “Gets quite stuffy in there,” He motioned to the hotel.

“I can imagine,” Chimera answered, watching him light a cigarette underneath the street lamp. “What did you hear?”

Chuckling, Nico looked down at the shorter cat. “Worried I overheared somethin’?”

“If you did, I’d have to kill you,” She smiled playfully.

“I’d love to see dat, Cher,” He smiled, puffing the cigarette. “Nothin’ much ‘xpect you talkin’ to yourself,”

Her eyes narrowed, not feeling any lie buried within the answer. “I guess I don’t have to kill you then,” She huffed, getting up from the stiff concrete. “I should get going before I fall asleep in the frigid cold,” She stretched out her arms as she walked towards the alleyway.

“Let me ask one thing, Cher,” Looking over her shoulder, Chimera waited as she watched Nico lean on the street pole. “Can I buy you a drink? Jus’ one.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “Still haven’t gotten your eyes checked, huh?” Her whole body turned to face him, showing off the soft smile that overtook her face. Looking at the doors, she shrugged to herself. “You mind getting me some vodka, Nico?”

His smile spread into a smirk, pushing himself from the light pole. “Not at all, cher,” He motioned for her to follow into the hotel and the speakeasy below.

Walking towards the elegantly decorated marigold doors, they were quickly opened to Nico and Chimera as they strode right in. Despite coming into the speakeasy on her first day upon arriving in St Louis, she never looked around much. Now, she could finally take in the decor and the multiple gambling tables. Then, there was the music that played on the stage. Jazz flowed through the speakeasy while the illicit alcohol encouraged the cats to spend at the tables. Despite her gazing, she followed Nico to the bar.

Instantly, she could see a bottle of clear vodka on the shelf. “Can I get some vodka?” She pointed at the fresh bottle, calling her name.

“Sure can,” The friendly bartender smiled, taking out a glass, ice, a bottle of vodka, and juices. “What juice do you-“

“None,” She answered quickly, taking the glass and waiting for him to pour.

“Just the vodka?” The bartender looked at her with a confused expression. “No ice?”

“None,” She started at the glass filled with the potent liquid. “Thank you,”

Nico ordered his bourbon and paid while Chimera turned to face the sea of people. Bringing the glass to her lips, she tipped her head back and downed the whole drink.  Her eyes closed before letting out a peaceful sigh as her long, thin tail curled happily. The pure alcohol was already flooding her veins and brain.

“Happy cher?” Her ear twitched as she could feel Nicos' presence beside her.

Opening her eyes, she saw the taller cat with his drink while giving her another. “I only drink as a reward for a completed job,” She explained, taking the vodka. “It always tastes better when someone else pays.”

Nico grinned as he leaned on the column. “I’ll buy you plenty more then,” He flirted.

She looked at his relaxed body and leaned back on the column. “Then you’re going to be paying for a lot then,” She hinted, watching him tilt his head. “I’m staying here for a year, so you’ll see more of me and many more completed jobs.”

“It still is a pleasure to be seein’ ya more,” Nico purred.

Shaking her head, she turned to the sea of people. “Not sure if it will be a pleasure for everyone else,” She motioned to a couple patrons looking at her in fear. “People with good eyes usually react that way,” A teasing tone could be heard in her voice.

Nico looked over to where she motioned and shrugged. “Or they see somethin’ they can’t control.”

Curious, her head tilted as she played with the rim of her still-filled glass. “Never heard a compliment like that. Let alone a compliment about this,” She referred to her split. “You are really something else, Mr. Savoy.”

“Makin’ me feel old. What happened to Nico, Cher?”

Shrugging, the cat tilted her head back, downing the drink. “Habit, I guess. People who bought me drinks were usually older,” She handed the glass to a waiter walking around the ballroom. “I guess you are older than me now that I think of it.”

His eyes narrowed before taking one last gulp from his own drink. “How old am I?”

“Twenty-seven,” She answered without hesitation. “You were born late July 1900 in New Orleans, Louisiana.”

“The hell…” His eyes widened as he waved at the bartender. “You really do yer’ research.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” She answered as a waiter placed another shot glass into her paws.

Another drink also reached the grey tomcat. “How old are you then?” He asked.

She smiled, picking at a chip in the third shot glass. “Guess,” She raised her drink up confidently.

He stared, watching her mischievous smile. “23”

The cat choked on the alcohol in the back of her throat, and her fur spiked as she coughed. “Damn,” She coughed up the last of the alcohol. “How did you figure that one out?”

Nico laughed as he gave a shrug. “Justa’ guess, cher.”

“Damn,” Chimera laughed, wiping her mouth. “Well, I guess you’re not completely right. Once my birthday passes, then I will be 24.”

“When’s dat?” He handed off his empty glass to the waiter. “Want another?”

“No, I’ve had enough,” She raised her paw. “As for my birthday… you guessed my age. I think you can guess my birthday.”

A silence came over the pair as Nico took out a package of cigarettes and joined Chimera in her people-watching. The occasional banter between the two would lead to the two laughing as if they were old friends. However, the banter usually ended with Chimera playfully rolling her eyes at Nico’s flirting and shooting him down. Then, a particular cat caught her eye. It was Seraphine at the blackjack table, seemingly reminding her of something.

“Since I will probably be working with you more, can I ask you something?” Chimera looked up at Nico, who nodded, taking the cigarette from his mouth. “Why did you try to touch my split when we first met?”

Nico blew out the smoke into already smoke-filled air. “Luck,”

“Do you also believe that have nine lives?”  He looked down at her perplexed, only for Chimera to return to her people-watching. “You’re from Louisiana. My grandma told me how a religion down there believes I’m good luck, or at least good to be around.”

Turning back to the sea of cats, Nico nodded. “It’s true.”

“Really?” She looked up at him in surprise. “I thought she was trying to make me feel better. I guess I’m swimming in compliments today,” She jested, pushing herself off the column. “Well, I’m going to take my leave. Thank you for the drinks.”

“Yer’ not even goin’ gamble, cher?” He gestured to the tables. “We can put that good luck to the test.”

Looking towards the blackjack tables, she shook her head. “I’m not good luck,” A familiar pain ran down her back, making her rub her shoulder. “Far from it, actually.”

“Worried yer’ gonna lose?” She could already feel the smirk across his face.

“Oh no,” She laughed, facing the taller cat. “I just don’t make bets I can’t win,”

 “So, yer afraid to lose.” He tempted the shorter cat as he walked past Chimera and toward the numerous tables

Her eyes followed the tomcat as he strode over and sat at the blackjack table beside his sister. Taking one step towards the exit, she stalled, hearing cats laugh. Seraphine had seemed to win the large pile in the middle of the table. The doorway was wide open, yet she turned on her heel and walked over to the blackjack table. Her ears twitched as she took a seat beside two other players. The looks of nervousness were evident as she gave money to the dealer.

Seraphine looked up and watched Chimera gather her chips from the dealer. “Y’finally decided to play with us, cher?” The excitement was evident in her voice.

“You can thank your brother for that,” She retorted as Nico smiled playfully, rolling a chip in his paws.

“First time playing Madam?” The dealer asked.

She shook her head. “No,”

After everyone got their chips, she leaned back in the chair and observed with one paw on her chips and the other rubbing her lips. The dealer started to hand out the cards to the six cats at the table. Her brain started using probability to figure out what the dealer had. As if an invisible mouse jumped onto the table, Chimerias’ eyes darted around the table.

The dance of winning, losing, small, and bug bets lasted an hour. Chimera only made small bets, only ever losing a dollar every so often. In contrast, the Savoy siblings were heavy hitters. After several small bets and finally doubling her money, she instantly pushed all her chips forward.

“Goin’ all in, cher?” Nico pointed out how most of her chips were on the green table.

Chimera shrugged, waiting for the dealer to draw their cards. She had a 20, and based on everyone else hands, no one could beat hers. Her body relaxed as she watched the dealer reveal their number 23, over 21, meaning she had won.

The dealer collected the chips and slid them to the female cat. “You’re quite lucky,” The dealer smiled as Chimera rolled her eyes at the compliment.

Nico chuckled as he nudged his sister. “Not lucky,” Chimeras’ eyes narrowed as she growled, collecting the chips before getting up from the table. “I’m going to cash out.”

Counting the chips in her arms as she walked to the checkout, the recognizable accent was behind her. “Told ya’” She turned to see Nico with a smile across his face. While Seraphine gathered her winnings.

“What?” She asked, walking up to a cat to cash out.

“You are good luck,” He answered, leaning against the wall, watching Seraphine walk over with her winnings.

Rolling her eyes, she glared at Nico. “Your sister won a bit. Luck had nothing to do with it,” She thanked the woman as she gave her money. “You can somewhat predict people’s hands if you just count the cards.”

Nico smiled, watching his sister go to the other cat to cash out. “Yer’ sneaky, but dat don’t work every time.” He countered.

Her eyes narrowed at the unrelenting tomcat. “Okay, fine, I have a tiny bit of luck. Happy?”

“Dats a good thin’ cher,” Seraphine said with a laugh, with the cash in hand. “Especially in dis business,” She leaned on the column with her brother.

Counting the bills, Chimera shook her head. “Depends on your definition of luck,” She countered, looking up at the siblings before glancing at her watch. It was past midnight. “Merci pour cette soirée amusante. {1} However, I should get going. I have to talk to someone,” Running her paw through her messy hair, she looked towards the doorway.

“Quite late out for meetin’ someone, ain’t it?” Nico teased.

Chimera looked at the tomcat with a baffled expression. “Nico, do you remember how I knocked you on the floor of an alleyway?”

He playfully shrugged. “Remind me?”

“Well,” Chimera walked over with her hands visible, having no weapons. “You are quite handsome. It would be a shame to bruise up this face,” She reached up to brush the side of his face.

“Well-“ Nico was immediately cut off by Chimera wrapping her leg around his and pushing him, effectively tripping him.

“I think I won,” Chimera looked down at the shocked tomcat with a smirk. “And that wasn’t luck, that-”

“Unprofessional.” The deadpan voice had her look over her shoulder to see Mordecai. “Do you not realize how dirty that carpet is?”

Chimera laughed as she offered Nico a hand. “No, please tell me,” Chimera sighed as she pulled Nico up from the ‘unhygienic’ floor. “Can I talk to you through? We are working together tomorrow, and I’d like to have a plan,” She glided over to the tuxedo cat, who gave her a raised eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” His green eyes narrowed at her. “You’re working with those two.”

Turning her head, she could see the siblings smile. “I am-?”

“If you are going to flirt openly in public, at least go to another area,” Mordecai waved her off, walking past the smaller cat towards Asa Sweets' office. “Don’t be imprudent.”

“Once you stop being impassive,” Chimeria countered.

The tuxedo only rolled his eyes before walking away into the crowd of cats, continuing to gamble and drink the night away. “Well,” Chimeria turned to face the siblings with smirks displayed on their faces. “Should I assume the plan for tomorrow is no plan?”

Nico chuckled. “Dats part of da fun, cher”

{1} Thank you for a fun evening

[risegamefreaks]

🎮 “Seaside Escape” or How I Got Emotionally Attached to a Virtual Beach Resort

🏝️ Welcome to Seaside Escape: Where the Puzzle is Emotional Commitment

Hey, it's Cody—gamedev by day, chaos-bringer by night. When I’m not debugging spaghetti code or surviving off black coffee and energy drinks, I do the only sane thing: I play more games. And this week? I found myself sinking way too deep into a sunny little puzzle game called Seaside Escape.

If you think this is just another beachy “match-three-and-chill” title, think again. This one comes with drama, makeovers, hotel renovations, and a suspiciously high chance of me yelling “WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT, MADDIE?!” at my phone.

🧩 The Puzzle Gameplay Loop – Addictive, Smooth, & Just Chaotic Enough

Let’s get this straight: the puzzle games part of Seaside Escape is tight. It’s your classic match-3 mechanic, with slick animations, exploding combos, and those sneaky little blockers that make you question your life decisions.

You match seashells, starfish, umbrellas—classic beach stuff. Then there’s sand to dig through, crates to smash, and the occasional seagull-feather-shaped level that feels oddly personal. Every puzzle earns you stars, which you then use to unlock story bits, renovate buildings, or tell some snooty hotel manager that his palm trees are crooked.

It's relaxing in the way organizing your sock drawer is relaxing—until you realize your socks are secretly sabotaging you.

🏖️ The Setting – Florida Dream or Simulation of My Backyard?

Okay. As a Florida native, I feel obligated to say this: Seaside Escape really nailed the vibe. You've got the turquoise water, sun-bleached docks, bungalows that definitely aren't hurricane-proof, and the kind of weather that makes you want to grill shrimp at 9 a.m.

It’s like someone turned my actual neighborhood into a puzzle game, minus the mosquito swarms and unpredictable sinkholes. And hey, there’s something magical about escaping to a virtual beach when you're already technically at a real one. That’s peak gamer logic.

🎭 Characters – Maddie, I Love You, But You Are a Mess

You play alongside a bunch of quirky, over-the-top characters. Maddie, your best friend and the game’s renovation queen, is the kind of person who says “I’ve got this!” right before blowing up the budget on neon pool furniture.

Then there’s the mysterious hotel owner, a rival manager with a clipboard complex, and that one character who just exists to be shady and throw side-eyes during cutscenes. The drama is light, fun, and just cheesy enough to keep you invested.

And yes, I’ve had arguments with my screen. That’s how you know it’s working.

🛠️ Renovations – HGTV with Puzzles and Less Screaming

One of Seaside Escape’s juiciest features is the design and renovation system. You earn puzzle stars, then use them to repaint walls, replace furniture, and restore a resort that was clearly abandoned by a team of caffeinated flamingos.

What I didn’t expect? Actually caring about which chair went where. Like, suddenly I'm a coastal interior design expert yelling “You can’t mix coral and teal, this is a seaside tragedy!”

It’s oddly satisfying. Also, it lets you fix your mess-ups. So unlike real life, you can take back that ugly wallpaper choice.

🔁 Daily Tasks, Events, and Other Ways to Avoid Responsibilities

The game’s loaded with events, side challenges, and seasonal themes. There’s always something going on—a fishing festival, a beach cook-off, or some kind of coconut emergency. It keeps the experience fresh and gives you that “just one more level” mentality that turns a five-minute break into a forty-five-minute commitment and a cold cup of coffee.

You can also join clubs and flex your score on leaderboards, if you’re into that sort of competitive sunshine energy. (I am. I regret nothing.)

⚙️ Performance – Smooth Sailing on the Puzzle Ship

On my beat-up Android dev phone and my pristine gaming tablet, Seaside Escape ran like a dream. No crashes, no lag, and only one suspicious ad placement for beach umbrellas that made me question how well Google knows my backyard.

The UI is bright and intuitive, and the puzzle difficulty scales well. You’ll breeze through the early levels and then suddenly find yourself sweating over a level with 18 moves and 32 crates. It escalates like a reality show argument.

🎯 Final Thoughts: Sand, Sass, and Surprisingly Good Puzzles

So here's the deal. If you're into puzzle games with flair, Seaside Escape is a full-package beach bonanza. It’s got snappy match-3 action, juicy beach drama, and enough renovation satisfaction to make you feel like a sandy Bob the Builder.

It doesn’t take itself too seriously—and neither do I. But under the pastel umbrellas and feel-good music is a game that’s finely tuned to keep you playing and laughing without feeling grindy.

Will it change your life? No. Will it brighten your Tuesday afternoon and convince you to buy a pineapple-shaped chair for your backyard? Maybe.

Catch me on the sand, starfish in one hand, phone in the other. Until next time—stay weird, stay clickable, and don’t let Maddie pick the tile colors.

🕶️✌️ — Cody from Florida, still arguing with a digital beach towel

[heart-of-copper-dog-training]

Party Prep for Excited Dogs

So you’ve got an excited dog and you’ve also got an exciting party! What can we do to prepare our pups for a good time for all? While we can’t guarantee anything, nor control everything, we can do some things to help set ourselves and our dogs up for success.

*Remember: if you have a reactive/fearful dog, they should not be involved in a party setting unless your trainer or veterinarian behaviorist has approved it for practice in a controlled environment

*If your dog inhales anything and everything that falls onto the ground, consider muzzle training in advance to prevent any dangerous “treats” your dog might find. Be sure to introduce it in a safe, stress free and positive manner if you plan to use it as a “vacuum preventative”.

Weeks before the party:

If needed, consult your veterinarian for possible calming medication to help your pup with overstimulation. Only you and your veterinarian can know if this is the right choice for you and your pups. Follow your veterinarian’s advice and instruction on how and when to administer any medicines to your dogs.

Look up some fun enrichment for you and your dogs: And practice in advance so they know what the game is. There’s plenty of great ideas online for fun things to do with your dog. And every dog has different games that they find as a favorite. It might be a flirt pole, playing “cups” with food, digging a hole, finding toys, a game of tug, shredding paper, it doesn’t matter what it is as long as your dog enjoys it and it is safe for both of you.

Practice expectations with your pups with good choices! Rewarding all paws on the floor, ignoring jumping, work on being calm in the house even with distractions. You can find helpful videos online with reward based, force free trainers to show you how to improve your dog’s manners in advance, or hire a trainer of your very own to work one on one with you and your dog.

Prepare a safe space for your dog. Whether that’s a crate, a bed, a kennel, another room or that corner in the kitchen over there, set up a place to retreat. Make sure it is going to be withdrawn enough to give space for overwhelmed pups but also within sight of the action if your pup is one of those “I wanna see but not get involved” type of pups. It should be comfortable and good things only should happen here. You can feed them here, give treats to reward calm behavior, put their favorite toys, a comfortable bed, etc. It is of utmost importance that this is a place of peace and happiness for your pup.

Dog proof your party: Think about what all is going to be involved in this party and what you need to be wary of. Anything toxic to the dogs needs to be planned to be far out of reach of the dogs and any children who might unknowingly like to “treat” the cute pup with something dangerous. Decorations need to be considered as well! We don’t want your dog eating anything that can cause a blockage or tie up their intestines, so prep yourself and be informed on your dog’s tendencies under stress and what they might go for if tempted. You can even go so far as to not have anything that might unintentionally harm your dog available at the party if you’re concerned about accidents. But if you have the “dangerous goods” (chocolate, beer, almonds, raisins, etc), you can take extra care to inform your guests if they are not aware, make little notes (no cake for Copper, it will make him sick!) to remind them while at the party, and be ready to be your own Roomba just in case.

Dog proof the kids: Be aware of what age and how many children will be at your party. Children can be overwhelming and scary for dogs, so you are your dog’s only advocate. You can educate them in advance (through their parents as well if needed) and post reminder signs for the kids on what is and is not acceptable behavior around a dog. And make sure those dog safe spaces are not to be intruded upon by children! If your dog is up for it, give the children safe and effective ways to interact with your dog, such as playing “touch” or “fetch” or just tossing a few treats their way. This is a great teaching moment for both children and your dog: the children will learn how to appropriately interact with dogs and the dog will learn that they will have an advocate for when they ask for help. Remember, informing them and posting signs only goes so far: some children will try anyway if not supervised and that can lead to a nasty/scary incident for everyone involved. Dogs and children should never be unsupervised regardless of the dog, the child, or the relationship between them.

Dog proof your guests: We all know that one person who “loves all dogs” and will break all your boundaries and good choice training. Explain in advance what is expected for your human friends when interacting with your dogs. Set your dogs up for success by monitoring their interactions with your friends/family and rewarding any good choices. Be ready to separate your dog if your dog is showing signs of stress, EVEN if that person really loves your dog and has all the best intentions in the world, it can be overwhelming. The last thing we want is for either your dog or your guest to have a bad interaction due to good intentions.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help: If you’ve got a few good adult friends who know what you’ve been working on with the dogs, or are just really good at supervising children, ask them to help you manage the party. It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a friend group to have a safe doggy party. If you’re truly concerned, you can even hire a dog sitter/trainer/walker to be the one person who’s job it is to be in charge of your dog. Or, if you feel your dog will not handle the big party, you can have your dog go to a sitter or a friend/family member’s house to sit out this time, and maybe try again at another date. Not everyone enjoys a big party, and dogs can be the same way.

Day of the Party:

Enrichment and Exercise! Ensure your dog’s needs have been met in advance of any guests arriving. Take your dog on an extra long walk, a run, bike ride etc to get some energy out. Alternatively, play some fun nose work games in the house. Take time (5 to 10 minutes) out of each hour leading up to the party to have a small training/enrichment session with your dog. Don’t over exercise your dog if they are not physically ready for it, but a few extra minutes on a walk can mean the difference between hyper dog and relaxed dog. But don’t underestimate the power of enrichment and the nose! Pull out those enrichment games you played earlier and do at least one of them for a few minutes each hour leading up to the party.

If possible, trickle in the guests: It’s easier for dogs to adjust to one person at a time than an entire slew of people suddenly joining in. Don’t worry if this isn’t going to work for you; you can manage your dog by ensuring you are there for them if they start to get overwhelmed. You can even use a leash to help set them up for success if needed, being sure to have your treats ready for every good choice they make. If you do use a leash, be sure the leash stays slack as much as possible. The last thing we want is for your dog to associate “lots of people” with “leash is tight and uncomfortable”.

Keep your eyes open: Be ready to intervene for your dog’s safety and comfort. Anything can happen at a party and you are your dog’s Guardian, so be ready to play that role as needed.

Take a play break: If you can, take a few minutes during the party (depending on how long it lasts) to separate your dog into a different space and do a little enrichment/play. Just like before, keep it short and fun. It is a party, after all. We want our dogs to have fun, too, right?

Be Kind to yourself and to your dog: Mistakes will happen and undesirable behavior will probably be practiced some. You can’t control everything, no matter how much you try. As long as no one is injured, there is no behavior that is unforgivable. You may have to roll your training back post party to work on some of it but it can be worked on. A small set back is not the end of the world and you should not treat it as such.

After the Party:

Give yourself a High Paw: You did it. You survived the party with your excited pup. That’s not an easy task for you or your dog, so you should be proud of how well you and your pup did (despite any mistakes that may have occurred).

Time for a break: Once the guests have left and the clean up is done, you and your dog are probably ready to just sit down and relax. Your dog is likely emotionally spent and will want some down time. Encourage and allow your dog to take some time to themselves to relax and decompress. This can take anywhere from a few hours to a few days, so if they seem off in the next few days of training sessions/walks, make it easier for them and go for shorter, less intense walks and easier training that they are already really good at.

Take Notes: Notice what DID work and what DIDN’T work for you and your dog. Think about new strategies you can use for management of guests, and what needs to be polished in your dog’s manners. You can discuss this with any guests if they brought up behaviors you were unaware of, and bring this to your trainer or just research techniques on your own through reward based, force free trainer videos available free online. No one thing works for every dog, so you may have found what you thought would work for yours failed miserably and needs to be reworked.

Roll back to Kindergarten: If your dog managed to practice some undesired behaviors, it’s time to roll back to an easier level and reestablish what they knew (and forgot in the excitement of the party). Make sure they are done with their respite period and ready to tackle your challenges again. They will likely pick up what you’re asking much quicker, as they have learned it before.

[hotwings0203]

Bully!Dabi pt. 3

Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap

Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette

“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.

He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?

No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.

Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…

“Baaaabbyyyyy”

It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.

You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.

It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.

You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.

It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.

A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.

“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”

His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.

You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.

“Y/N”

“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”

But you don’t miss him.

What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.

All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.

You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.

You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.

It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,

“Found you”

Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.

“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”

You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.

“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.

Everything about him is toxic.

“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”

He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.

He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”

His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.

After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.

“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.

“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.

To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?

Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.

See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.

So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.

Except for now.

Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?

He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.

It angers him.

Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?

Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?

Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.

Anything for his precious little girl.

And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.

“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”

“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.

He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”

Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.

“Dabi, no, no please!”

You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.

As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.

You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.

He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.

“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.

He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.

“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“

“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.

“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.

He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.

“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”

You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.

“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”

You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”

He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”

You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.

“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”

You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.

He smiles at your compliance.

“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.

The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.

You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.

Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.

You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.

“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.

A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.

At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.

The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.

Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.

But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.

“A-are we done?” You sniffle.

He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.

His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.

“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah? How thankful are you?”

You still at that.

He starts to unbuckle his belt.

You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.

“Dabi-“

“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”

The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.

He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.

You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.

He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.

Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.

You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.

The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.

It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.

The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.

You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.

“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.

“Wait, go slowly-“

“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.

He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.

You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.

He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.

You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.

You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.

“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”

“Good.”

You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”

“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”

He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.

“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.

The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”

You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.

All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.

“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.

He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.

It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.

“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”

You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore

[qlala]

Every time you casually mention in your tags another coldflash wip that you have started writing years ago and might not finish...like ever, I swear I break out in a cold sweat. Because is it just like GRRM's writing pace, or...? Is there an option where I give you some money and you allow me to read through your drafts? 🤣🤣🤣

On a more serious note, it always makes my day when I get the notification that you've posted a new fic. And each time I re-read some of your stories it hits me just how special your writing is. I rarely get this feeling while reading fanfiction, so thank you so much for this ♥️

addjsjfjd unfortunately it is not a GRRM writing pace situation and is instead a “70 hr/week job” situation, so i don’t have a lot of time for writing! because of that i tend to do it for enjoyment first and publishing second, so i hop from project to project based on what’s fun to write in that moment!

a lot of times that’s a new idea, sometimes it’s digging up an old idea i never finished, and then occasionally i finally hold my nose to the grindstone and make myself finish something kicking and screaming (because i love sharing fic! it’s like interactive storytelling where i go “what if these guys did this?” and other people can comment like “wow what if they DID do that?”)

but i DO feel bad for always chatting about stuff that’s not even in the publishing pipe, so here, have a red string of fate coldflash snippet that’s been abandoned in my drafts for a while! this is one of my favorites at the moment <3

Len never thought much about his string, only ever had to try to put it out of his mind when the occasional pluck came down the invisible line late at night. So he was unprepared for what lay ahead when he was leading the Rogues in a cursory scrap with Team Flash, pointing the cold gun at Cisco with a grin. Both of them knew it was a feint—he wouldn’t fire until Barry got between them with that cold-resistant tripolymer of his.

Cisco made a grab for the gun anyway, his glasses flickering to life with a blue glow. Len was ready to dodge him, but Cisco only got halfway through his lunge and then froze as suddenly as if Len had hit him with a blast after all. He stared at the gun, then looked behind Len, then back at the gun. His mouth was agape, and Len frowned as he watched him fumble to pull his glasses off.

“Somewhere else you need to be?” he asked, slightly testily, as Cisco’s wide eyes tracked over his shoulder again. He hefted the gun pointedly, but Cisco only looked at it and laughed, a strangled, hysterical sound.

“Oh, my god. Tell me you know,” he said, and then scrubbed a hand over his forehead, looking abruptly overwhelmed. “Tell me he just… You don’t. Oh my god. You don’t know.”

Len scowled. “Not one of your better distractions, Cisco.”

To his bewilderment, Cisco turned his back to him, walked to the pile of crates nearby, and sat down heavily. Len stared at him. Had someone hit him in the head during the fight? He enforced a firm no-contact rule against the members of Team Flash without enhanced healing, but clearly someone needed a reminder.

Cisco only sighed at his bemused look, and patted the crate next to him.

Len gave him one last look of confusion, then turned his back on him to rejoin the fight. 

It was all but over. Barry had noticed the oddity of what was happening between him and Cisco and pulled up short. He was still just long enough for Peek-a-Boo to get the jump on him, and she stepped smoothly into place to trip him as he jumped into action again.

The resulting crash was a big enough distraction that Len signaled for Shawna to take the loot and go, which she did with obvious relish. From there, it was just a matter of staging a strategic retreat, and getting clear before Team Goodie-Two-Shoes realized the art was already gone.

He’d just gotten his bike snarling into life when Wally West appeared in front of him in full Kid Flash regalia, looking bemused. “Uh. Hey, Cold. This is…weird, but, Cisco needs to talk to you?”

“Sweet of him. But I don't think I'll be—”

“Uh, no. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound like a question.”

Len knew he didn't have time to unholster the cold gun, but he reached for it anyway on principle. 

A few seconds of unpleasant whiplash later, STAR Labs snapped-dragged into place around him, and Wally made the wise decision to be halfway across the Cortex by the time Len got his bearings. 

Barry blew in with Cisco a moment later, but he pulled up short when he saw him.

“Snart?” 

He pulled back his cowl—an absent, stupid show of trust—and then looked at him with his head cocked, hair wild. The familiarity of it had Len brushing aside the errant glimmer of fondness it kindled in his chest.

He had a line ready, the antagonism between them as worn and easy as that old STAR Labs shirt Barry favored in his down time.

But Cisco stepped between them, Vibe gloves and goggles both lit up, and the grimace on his face wasn’t promising.

“This is gonna feel a little violating,” Cisco said. He reached his hand into the open air at about waist height, closed his fist around nothing, and pulled.

Leonard had spent his life learning to have complete control over his movements; control was what he did. But nothing, nothing could’ve kept him from staggering when he felt the pull. His string hand was yanked forward, harder than any of the light plucks he’d ever felt on the other side of the line, and he staggered forward after it, caught utterly off balance.

Across the room, Barry’s arm jerked up at the same time, and he took three stumbling steps towards the center of the room before steadying himself.

Leonard had been ready to pull the cold gun on Cisco for the stunt, humiliation flashing up the back of his neck and transmuting just as quickly into anger, but his thoughts spun out as the implications of Barry’s shocked, coltish stumble began to register.

He raised his eyes to Barry’s. It took Barry a moment to meet his gaze, expression wide-eyed and betrayed where he was looking at Cisco, looking as violated as Len felt. But finally, the thought must have caught up to him, because he glanced at Len, a brief sympathetic frown before returning his attention to Cisco, and then he went rigid.

The green eyes that met Len’s were wide and too full of shock to read any of the emotions that might’ve been behind it.

“You do both wear gloves a lot.”

Leonard started guiltily, the way he’d never done when actually caught mid-heist.

Cisco was regarding them curiously, head tilted with academic interest. “Still,” he continued, “Three years. You’d think you would’ve touched at least—“

“Cisco,” Iris cut him off, quietly, without even looking toward him. For all her wide-eyed alarm, she was looking at Barry with a sort of alert empathy, watching carefully for a sign of how to react to… this. Leonard was having a hard time saying it, even in his mind. The words were lodged somewhere impossible and refused to surface.

The pieces fit together, but the final result was incomprehensible.

Piece one: Cisco, thanks to whatever Vibe powers he possessed, could see people’s strings. Touch them, even.

Piece two: Standing exactly midway between himself and Barry, Cisco had put out a hand and yanked on Len’s string. Leonard tabbed this one in his mind; he needed to remember to ice Cisco’s hand off for it later.

Piece three: When Cisco had pulled on his string, he’d obviously pulled on Barry’s as well.

Barry, who had one hand wrapped around his other wrist and looked like he might plan on phasing straight through the floor rather than even look in Len’s direction.

[rocorambles]

Let's Give It A Try

Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Mafia AU, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Use of Sir, Dirty Talk, Degradation

Summary: Dating a man like Bokuto Koutarou goes against every moral code you’ve learned growing up, but love has a funny way of going against the grain.

Bokuto exhales, sighing as he leans broad shoulders against the rough exterior of the building behind him, cigarette smoke floating in tendrils in front of him. He prides himself on the strength and health of his body, but when he gets in one of his moods after a particularly strenuous week, he can’t help but rely on the way the nicotine mellows out the stress of his job. Closing his eyes, he lets the muffled beat of the music inside the club reverberate through his chest, letting himself let go just a tiny bit. Foolish maybe, considering just how many people want him dead, but he allows himself a moment of lax judgement while on his turf, literally on the ground he owns, surrounded by his men both in and out of the club, under the watchful blue eyes of his right hand man.

Everything will be just fine.

And suddenly everything’s a little bit more than just fine as his curiosity peeks, sharp owl-like eyes scanning you as you come stumbling out of the club, taking deep ragged breaths, completely unaware of your surroundings as you greedily inhale the fresh night air.

He has to bite back the sharp grin that threatens to stretch across his face at your adorable jump and squeak when you finally straighten up and take inventory of who’s around you, quivering like a little mouse when you meet his intense golden gaze. There’s something different about you and he can tell with just a quick glance at you that this isn’t your usual joint, taking in your considerably conservative and casual outfit for the area’s most popular nightclub, the nervous ticks and almost bashful way you curl in on yourself, unused to the hungry look he continues to direct at you.

It takes some coaxing and he almost feels bad at how he swears he can hear your frightened and unsure heartbeat pounding your chest as he approaches you. But his talons are out, wide eyes too curious and intrigued by the prey that’s caught his attention to just let you go off on your merry way. He croons at how you stutter, tripping over your words in your nervousness, licking his own lips for a different reason when he sees your pink muscle dart out to wet your dry ones.

But he can feel his wings furl out to their full span, can feel himself prepare to lunge at you when he finds out that his sweet little mouse came all by herself, trying to get over your recent breakup by having some fun, maybe even finding someone to…

This time he does laugh when you embarrassedly trail off, ending your anxious ramblings, before pinning you down with a wild grin that makes your chest tighten.

“I can be that someone.”

There’s something about the man that leaves you on edge. You can’t deny the fact that he’s handsome, in a wild rugged way that reminds you of a predator. But there’s something...intense about him, something in his eyes, something in his presence, something in his aura that makes you shiver, keeping your suddenly heavy feet rooted to their spot. Not that you’d get very far if he was intent on doing you harm you ascertain as you stare at the muscular and toned figure in front of you.

Yet despite all that, you can’t help but believe that he really does mean you no harm. Maybe it’s what you want to believe. A last hope and faith that not all men are scum like your ex is. Desperate to believe that there are decent men out there, that you can find happiness and maybe even love one day. So going against every ounce of self-defense and common sense that’s been instilled in you all your life, you take this stranger’s hand and let him guide you away, finding comfort in his warm, calloused grip.

Even if you do end up dead after all this, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right decision, your problem more than solved as any thoughts of your ex (and anything else really) fly out your head as soon as you’re dragged into an alarmingly luxurious apartment. He really is more animal than man and you cry out as teeth harshly dig into your neck, possessively and hungrily marking every inch of you, lips greedily wrapping around perky nipples and sucking with a force that makes your eyes roll and your nails dig into his thick biceps. But that only seems to egg him on more and you vaguely wonder if you’re going to cum before he can even get to the main course, body already overwhelmed with arousal and desire as he touches you everywhere except where you need him most.

You’re positively dripping by the time he does make it between your legs, too high strung to even be embarrassed, letting out a high pitched whine instead when he teasingly blows on your sopping wet entrance, pressing your thighs apart, leaving you on full display. And you swear you black out purely from relief when a hot wet tongue finally licks a long line up your slit. So on edge already, it only takes a few flicks and lapping of your aroused clit to have you careening off that pleasurable cliff and you sob, body thrashing and convulsing as you ride out your orgasm while lips and tongue continue to work you over.

You blearily blink as you finally regain control of your body, expecting the man between your legs to take the hint as you try to sit up on your elbows. But you scream, instantly collapsing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets besides you as two thick fingers suddenly slip inside of you, beginning a relentless pace right from the start, hot tongue still lapping and licking at your sensitive clit. It’s too much, too soon and you writhe, body trying to pry yourself away from the torturous pleasure, but also aching for another release as the coil in you is wound tight. Not that Bokuto leaves you much choice as he easily keeps you pinned down, your legs no match for the strength of his arms and upper body as he continues to feast on you, your pretty cries and screams music to his ears, your delicious juices intoxicating. And before you even realize it, you’re forced to your second peak, creaming and clamping down on the digits still stuffed inside of you, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Surely it’s over and you tell yourself that you’ll just close your eyes for a brief moment, a few seconds at most before paying him back with a blowjob, handjob, whatever he wants in return. Except your companion has very different plans on exactly how you’ll return the favor and your eyes shoot open, pathetic pleading noises spilling past your lips as you feel something hard and thick press against your entrance. But then he’s shoving inside of you, cock splitting your spent hole in two, and your mind blanks, unable to resist, unable to enjoy, only able to take and feel as it drags against your walls, going deeper and deeper.

And that’s how you pass out, one of the last clear memories you have before your mind fades to darkness, exhaustion and bliss rendering you useless as you’re ruthlessly fucked into and used by the man above you as he chases his own end, head empty except for mindless thoughts of cock, cock, cock.

There’s a few more one night flings after that and you try and convince yourself that it’s just that, nothing more, ignoring the pang in your heart when Bokuto sends you a sad face via text when he wakes up to an empty bed, ignoring the guilt resting heavy on your shoulders when you accidentally sleep in longer than you meant to and have to pry yourself from a pouting face and gentle grip on your wrist as gold eyes plead for you to stay.

But Bokuto Koutarou always gets what he wants and you find it harder to wriggle out from his strong arms as the sun’s rays filter through the windows, you find it harder to not sit down at his dining table and stay for a piping hot cup of coffee, you find it harder not to wake up and nuzzle closer to his body, cuddling and sweetly talking with him more than a casual relationship warrants.

And you find it impossible to not say yes when he asks you to officially go out with him one lazy morning as he cradles you in his arms.

Dating Bokuto is an adventure unlike any you’ve been on before and it’s so easy to be swept along in his enthusiasm and energy, giggling like children in one moment before you’re being pounced on in the next, gold eyes darkening in raw hunger and lust. Bokuto is an enigma that you wonder if you’ll ever truly understand, so easily shifting from a cheerful goofball to a dangerous predator and back again. But you don’t mind, finding the multi-faceted personality one of his strong suits...until it isn’t anymore.

You’d always had a feeling that Bokuto was hiding something from you, some things not quite adding up, the outgoing man strangely reticent about certain topics, especially regarding his work life and where his money comes from. But you had chalked it up to your sweet boyfriend being humble, not wanting to delve too much into his enormous wealth, because he must have enormous wealth from the penthouse apartment he lives in, the extravagant vacations he whisks you away on, the luxury gifts he bestows upon you without blinking an eye. And you’re correct, just not in the way you had imagined and you tearily and accusationally glare at him when you accidentally come across the hidden switch in the back of his closet, door opening and revealing crates and crates of a white powdery substance.

You want him to laugh it off like he always does, tell you some bullshit about it being for some prank he’s going to pull on Akaashi or Konoha, that it’s not what you think it is. But he doesn’t and the two of you just silently stare at each other, the pieces connecting all too clearly even without a word being said. And you leave, betrayal and hurt digging their claws into you as you leave behind a man who you thought you had known, who you had loved, but who you realize maybe you don’t really know at all.

It feels eerily familiar, a sense of deja vu flooding you when you take hesitant steps into another nightclub in the area, desperate for another distraction, another fling to fuck you free from thoughts of gold eyes and a muscular body. You tell yourself that there’s nothing similar about the solid build of the stranger you’re grinding up against, that the similarity in appearance is just coincidence as the two of you stumble to his apartment. But then lips and hands are all over you, too gentle, too soft, treating you like glass, words too cautious. Everything’s wrong, wrong, wrong and when he begins a slow careful pace, fucking you like he’s making love, so different from the way a certain man would have broken you down to pieces only to build you back up, you shove him off, uncaring of how rude you’re being.

That night when you return to your own bed, you sob in frustration, toys, dildos, vibrators scattered around you as you seek any relief you can get, looking for even the slightest mimicry of Bokuto’s touch, trying to remember what he sounds like, what he feels like. But memory and imagination can only get you so far, can never live up to the real thing, and you scream into your pillow as an unsatisfying orgasm ripples through you, the realization that Bokuto has ruined your body for anyone else, even yourself, sinking into you.

It’s absolute stupidity to be with someone just for great sex. Absolutely ridiculous. What decent human would go crawling back to their drug-dealing ex just for his good dick game? God knows what other shady underground shit Bokuto’s up to and you know it runs much deeper than a single room full of cocaine.

But maybe you’re not a decent human. Maybe that’s why you still can’t stop thinking of him despite how you try and hold out, despite the multiple flings, nights, and even entire weekends you spend with yourself in bed, spending far too much on sex toys, pussy and clit throbbing, fingers and hands aching from constantly bending to be inside yourself. Yet for all that, you’re never satisfied, every weak orgasm, every disappointing touch from another man only making your need for Bokuto even more pronounced, until you finally break. And a month later you call Bokuto, a scrambled frantic call over the phone with a dildo shoved deep inside you, a vibrator buzzing on your clit, tears streaming down your face when they do nothing to take away the yearning inside of you, begging and pleading for him to come and help you.

It’s humiliating how even just the sight of him skyrockets your arousal to levels you haven’t felt since the two of you dated and you whimper as he casually leans in your doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, gold eyes raking over your sweating nude figure that’s writhing on top of rumpled bed sheets.

“This is a good look for a desperate slut like you. Couldn’t cum without me? No one, not even your little toys could make you feel good? Maybe I should just leave, just like how you left me. Leave you high and dry. Well I guess maybe not that dry.”

You pant, wide blown out eyes watching as he slowly approaches you, face heating when he bends down to peer at your dripping cunt, mockingly whistling at how you pretty hole is no different than a leaking faucet, inner thighs drenched in your arousal.

“Koutarou, please-”

You scream as fingers harshly twist at your nipples, eyes rolling to the back of your head as just that brutal touch is enough to bring you over the edge you had been hovering around for so long, body convulsing, a dopey grin making its way onto your lips when you finally feel the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.

“Fuck, you came from just that? Who the fuck said you could cum? Who the fuck said you could use my name? Sluts like you don’t deserve to say my name. You know what to address me as.”

You wail, pain melding with the pleasure as he shoves your vibrator away, alternating between pinching and slapping your already overstimulated clit as he enunciates every word he snarls at you, a feral grin stretching across his face at your barely coherent babbles of “sir” and “sorry”.

The constriction in his own pants is painful and he’s quick to strip waist down, slowly palming his aching erection. It takes everything in him to hold back, to not just shove balls deep inside of you in one strong thrust, your absence affecting him just as badly. But that’s not what this is about. This is about making a point, reminding you just how wrong you were for leaving him without a single word, rebuilding what the two of you once had. And as ravenous as he is, he takes his time, willing himself to slow down and rediscover every inch of you, painstakingly exploring your body once again, re-memorizing every sensitive part of you that elicits a little gasp, a tiny mewl.

And he doesn’t stop, pulling the dildo inside of you completely out, using his teeth, tongue, and finger to bring you to the edge over and over again, always backing away just when you’re about to fall off that pleasurable cliff once more, diving back in like a man starved just when you think you have a shaky grasp on your senses. Only when you’re full out sobbing broken cries of his title, a litany of “please, please, please” escaping you does he move on and he groans at how perfectly your legs wrap around his back, urging him inside you as his cock finally makes contact with your gushing cunt, your hands weakly pawing at him in a silent plea for more.

But again he stops, bringing a thumb to wipe away your tears as you begin to wail anew, frustration and denial tearing you to shreds, instinctively leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheekbone.

“Tell me who’s the only one who can make you feel good. Who’s the only one who can pleasure you?”

And as you scream his name, he finally slams inside of you, relentlessly pounding in and out of you, gold eyes hungrily taking in how wrecked you look, how broken you look, all because of him, only for him.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to tumble together over that edge, not when both of you are beyond pent up, absence making your hearts grow fonder and your bodies desperate for each other. And you can’t help the content warm surge inside of you when you feel hot thick liquid fill your insides, your body lax and useless in post-coital bliss, heart and mind eager for Bokuto to collapse beside you and pull you into his toned chest like he always does.

Except there is no familiar weight beside you and your head shakes side to side, drool trickling down your face when Bokuto’s softening cock is suddenly replaced by four fingers brutally thrusting in and out of you, curling just right along your still quivering walls.

“We still have a long way to go, little mouse. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t know how many times you’re forced over the edge after that, consciousness fading in and out as he assaults your cunt with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You even vaguely remember waking up once to a dildo in your ass, Bokuto pounding into your cum-filled pussy, your body more stretched than it’s been in a long time. They all blur together, only tied together by the delirious pleasure that numbs everything else until you’re succumbing to darkness one last time as yet another body shaking orgasm rips through you.

It’s the scent of fresh coffee and bacon that awakens you and you blearily open your eyes, only to immediately wince as soon as you try to move, your body feeling like it had been rammed into by a truck (although you suppose that imagery isn’t too far off from what actually transpired). Sinking back into the plush pillow and mattress, you close your eyes, wondering what’s your next move. Force your aching body out of bed and confront the inevitable, already somewhat dreading having to face Bokuto now that your mind isn’t clouded with lust? Go back to sleep and pray that he’s gone when you wake up again, like a coward?

But Bokuto doesn’t leave you a choice and you shyly cover yourself with the blanket when he comes bounding into the room, a heaping plate of food and a cup of the delicious caffeinated beverage in his hands, heart fluttering when you see the warm and affectionate grin on his face as he approaches you, carefully placing everything on the nightstand before tenderly pecking your forehead and murmuring good morning.

You try to say something, anything, words getting stuck in your throat, but you’re shushed as the coffee mug is carefully placed in your hands, Bokuto’s soothing voice urging you to eat and recover first. And you gladly take the excuse, hunger and thirst from last night’s endurance marathon finally making itself known as you devour everything. But there’s only so long you can avoid the inevitable and with belly full and feeling more yourself, you listen as he gently grabs your hand, letting him entwine his fingers with yours as he tells you everything.

Who he is. What he does. Exactly how he’s affiliated with the Fukurodani Syndicate.

None of it is surprising, a lot of it what you had surmised and guessed yourself. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow knowing just how much he had kept from you, how much he had been planning on keeping from you for who knows how long. At least it’s all out in the open now though, no secrets left between the two of you, and there’s a pause as he continues to rub his thumb on the back of your hand.

“I won’t sugar coat who I am and what my life is. I don’t expect you to come running back with open arms. But if you’re willing to give it a try, I swear that there’ll never be any more secrets, that I’ll protect you, that I’ll love you. I’ll be the damn best boyfriend there ever is.”

You almost giggle at how childish the last sentence is, hope churning in your stomach when you see how genuine and passionate he is, fondness flowing through you when you recognize the man you had fallen in love with beyond the dirt on his hands. And you know it’s arguably foolish, goes against every moral code you’ve grown up with, but love never does seem to follow set equations and rules and you bring that hand to your lips, affectionately kissing your clasped fingers as you meet gold eyes.

“Let’s give it a try.”

[smallbirdbigcoat]

hi!! im yr srs santa ❄️, not sure if my last message went thru so im attempting 2 attach it again! hope u hade a good christmas 🍻 this was fun! i havent heard that lemon demon album so ill have to check it out, thanks!! omg that is so cool!! thats so literally sick id love to see yr favorite page or pages. i journal too mines mostly articles & pictures i cut from magazines n poems it’s literally so fun n i did notice my mental health getting better as i did it too LOL i would say my main hobby either “crate digging” on spotify or playing guitar. probably guitar cuz i do that a ton LOL but i also love finding rlly awesome music thats not really well known cuz it honestly doesnt take too much work just some time. abt maybe two or 3 weeks ago i found this band called speed glue & shinki & they’re fantastic!! i also write poetry frequently … i like to keep busy LOL 2day i bring you a song ive been listening to on repeat! https://open.spotify.com/track/3vTehy2tTrXyEeOieYFEAd

hello!!!! it was rly fun! hope u had a good christmas as well :)

here r some of my fave pictures from my journal:

this is a drawing i did of a statue of circe that’s at the art gallery in melbourne and i was very proud of it

here’s a little self portrait i did bc i rly liked the outfit i had on at the time

these r some more little doodles i have done in sketchbooks and pasted them in that i’m happy w :) feat phoebe bridgers + bruce springsteen lyrics

and some cool stuff that i’ve found or been given, some little affirmation things someone gave me at a crystal shop, a handwritten receipt from a second hand shop and an actual physical ticket from a museum.

(i hope this is formatted correctly when i post it bc i’m doing it on mobile and the images keep moving all over the place lmao)

i’d love to be able to find cool underground music on spotify but i’ve not rly been that successful in the past! tell me your secrets!! i do watch a lot of rage which is an Australian music video program that showcases a lot of indie and alternative artists as well as a lot of local australian bands so i’ve gotten a lot of cool music from there. jenny destroys records by billiam, lexapro by voiid and end of the line by civic are some songs i’ve been listening to a lot recently bc of rage if u r interested.

applause is rly cool!! it reminds me of a song that could be playing in a fight scene of a movie, like a song that you’d wanna smash things up to. i like it

[itsthestutterforme]

Not As It Seems 1/2 (Vincenzo)

Summary: Y/N and Vincenzo grew up in the Mafia. You owed him for saving your ass on a mission gone wrong. It's always been that way between you two. You save his hide, he saves yours. He wants you to stay undercover and find your way into Babel Pharmaceuticals as an extra pair of eyes to find out who the CEO of Babel was. But as normal, mission does not go as planned.

Pairings: Vincenzo x reader (platonic), Joon woo (romantic)

--

Given, you Vincenzo did save your ass big time the last mission you were on but the magnitude of this favor was worth three small ones. Regardless, you are a woman of my word. You were about a month in you cover when you caught the eye of Jang Han seo.

You started as a tech at his floor but once he found out that you loved to play ice hockey and spicy foods, he fell head first in love with you. It did not take much for him to fall for you, which was actually heart breaking. You treated him with respect and kindness, something that he wasn't used to by anyone.

The first date was at a spicy ramen shop where you talked all night until the shop was closed. The second date was at his condo where we watched the live ice hockey game while you ate spicy kimchi. By the third date, you were comfortable being around one another. You ended the date with a long, much needed hug.

In the Mafia, you weren't used to affection and Jang Han seok was verbally and physically abused by his mother and brother. You held each other for at least a minute straight. You can still remember him burying his face into your neck as you wrap your arms around his medium build.

His hands rested respectfully on your upper back and shoulder blades. When you finally pulled away, you both bowed and said thank you. You bowed at the same time, hitting each other in the head.

You chuckle in rememberance of that date. Jang Han seo was truly a good guy. He wasn't capable of doing the horrific things Cassano was telling me about. He didn't have the heart for it, so there has to be someone else calling the shots. Someone close enough to be whispering commands into Han seo's ear. You just have to figure out who.

You knock on the door and wait for a while, winging you purse side to side as you waited. You furrowed your brows when you Han seo doesn't open the door. "Han seo?" You call from outside and still no answer. It wasn't until you heard a gun shot that you kicked the door down and tumbled inside.

You take out your knife and round the corner until you saw Han seo crouching down on the floor in front of his gun. You look around for the threat but didnt see any. "Han seo?" You say, tucking away your knife. You kneel down next to him and his body jolts upwards. "What!" "Honey, what happened?"

"I ca- I can't tell you." "Why not?" "Because I can't! You're an outsider and he'll kill me." "Who?" "He ruins everything he touches." He says, running a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, but we can't see each other anymore. " "What? What is this about? Who says we can't be together?"

"Me, I say I can't. Just go!" He yells, making you wince. His eyes were red and puffy, he's clearly been cryibg. You hold his face in your hands and press a warm kiss to his forehead. "You know where to find me." You say before silently stand up and leaving. Closing the door, you let out a shaky breath.

You knew this was bound to happen but you got too caught up in the moments with Han seo. But at least now you can distance yourself and find a different approach on finding who the real CEO is. You walk towards your car and say to yourself to keep it together but as you as you hop in, tears fell on your cheeks.

"Damn it, Y/N. Pull yourself together." You say between sobs. You turn on the car and throw it into drive before pulling out of his driveway. You always made fun of those who fell in love while they were undercover, and now you feel like a hipocrite. You pull into your driveway to see Joon woo with a crate of rice wine.

You roll your eyes and tried your best to dry your tears but your eyes still gave it away. "How did you hear so fast?" You ask, getting out of your car. "My brother and I are close, and he really cared about you." "Well he sure has a way of showing it," you say, wiping away more tears.

"Come on, let's drink away our sorrows." He says and you genty take the crate into your hands. "Awe, where's yours?" You tease. He chuckles whole heatedly and says, "That's cute." "You can wait in the living room. I have to take a shower first." "Sure thing,"

Later that week, Joon woo has been stopping over your house every Friday night to check in on you. You were actually starting to get used to it. Today was Friday and he didn't come. You waited until 11 pm to go over his house and check in on him. You knock on the door and Joon woo opens it with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You fix your eyes on his face but there was a deep temptation to look elsewhere. "Y/N, hi," "Have you no manners? If you make plans with someone and can't make it, you can at least call." "I didn't know that it would urk you this bad. I'm sorry." You cross your arms and roll your eyes. "I was in the middle of shower, did you want to join me?"

"Excuse me?" "You seem a little tense." He leans his body arm against the door frame and his towel dips a little. "What if I am?" "Oh, I have a few things in mind." He says, his eyes slowly scanning your body. He leans forward and lift your chin up to plant a firm, possessive kiss on your lips.

You collapse onto his chest and he pulls you inside his loft. He closes the door before pushing you against it, his hands attached to your waist as he kisses your neck. Leaning you head against the door, he dips his head into your breasts and slides his hand into your shorts.

You gasp softly as he curls his fingers into your folds. Slowly pumping his fingers, you can feel his gaze on you. "Such a pretty girl. Can't wait for feel you clenching around my dick." He says, making you whimper.

"Move faster, please." You beg and it took him less than a second to speed up his movements. You dig your nails into his back and you spread you legs to give him more access.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks some of your juices off. "What happened?" You say breathlessly. "You're not loud enough." He kneels down on the ground and pulls down you shorts to your ankles.

You step out of them and he says, "Look at that beautiful pussy of yours, baby." You two lock eyes as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and slowly licks the stripe.

Your hands find his hair and tug on it softly as he sinks his tongue and pumps it in out of your pussy. You moan loudly when he pumps two fingers in you and applies pressure to your clit with his tongue.

The more he rolls his tongue, the stronger the build up in your stomach was. Your clit grew sensitive under his touch and your tried to pull away from him.

He scratch your thighs harshly and you yelp out. His fingers curl into a g spot and you slam your hand against the door. "Oh God," you chant until your felt apart under his tongue. He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive clit, making your breaths turn heavy.

"Joon, please! I'm so close!" You yell out. He rolls tongue against you and softly sucked repeatedly. Soon after, you fell apart again and you legs bucked. You fell to the ground and he catches your abdomen. He cups your cheeks and pressed a firm kiss on your lips. Your juices rubbed from his lips to yours as he invades your mouth.

You were breathless as he pulls away from your lips. He lifts you into his arms and stands up effortlessly. He lips were attached to yours the entire trip up the stairs and to his bedroom. You pull away to take off your shirt and unclip your bra.

You hear his towel drop and you buck your hips in anticipation. He lowers your body and slowly pushes his member into you.

You throw you head back and he sucks on the base of your neck. He bucks his hips and your wraps your legs around his waist to pulls him further into you. Rolling your hips to match his thrusts, he says, "Fuck, Y/N." Still buried inside of you, he lays you on the bed. He brings your legs over his shoulder and yells escape your lips with his heavy thrusts.

He lifts his hand and you links your fingers with his as he rails you into the bed. Your eyes are snapped shut as your walls flutter around his member. You bury you face into his shoulder as your rub your throat raw from yelling. "Look at me, " he commands.

You pull away from his shoulder and look into his eyes. "There's my pretty girl." He leans his forehead against yours as he slows his thrusts to chase his euphoria. You reach yours soon after and he pulls out of you. "Top me," "What?" You look at him through hooded eyes.

"I want you to see how beautiful you look on top," "I don't have enough strength for that, Joon." "Yes you do. Just one more time and I'll let you rest for the rest of the night." He lays on his back and you instruct him to sit up against the bed frame. He does so and doesn't break eye contact.

You softly pump his member in your hand until he's fully erected and sink yourself on him. You plant your foot on either side of his lap and rock your hips back and forth. His moans makes your pussy wet and sink further on him. You lean forward and bite on his lower lip. "Fuck, you keep doing that and I'll have my way with you for the entire night."

He arches his back as you scratch up his back. You roll your hips a little faster and his body goes rigid as his second wave of euphoria washed over him. You slide off of his lap and lay down on your stomach. You tuck your arms under the pillow as you lay on it. Joon lays on his side and draws circles on your back.

He waits until you were asleep but you were quite unconscious when he says, "I knew it was the right call to make Han seo break up with you."

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 5

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: canon rewrite, slow burn, canon-typical violence, sexual harassment/unwanted sexual advances, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When you’re caught in a firefight with a bounty hunter and the Crest is damaged, you and Mando stop on Tatooine to find a job. A shadow of your past catches up with you. Notes: Sorry not sorry for making Toro even worse than he already is. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @theflightytemptressadventure @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After leaving Sorgan, you and Mando chose a second “backwater skughole” several systems away as your next destination. Mando set the nav, and the automated voice of the computer informed you that the trip would take almost five days. The thought of spending five days confined to the Crest was not appealing, but you knew it was important to keep your stops as remote as possible.

Time was a functionally meaningless concept in space anyways, hours and days bleeding together. Without the usual environmental cues to govern your circadian rhythm, you had to rely on a schedule to maintain some semblance of normalcy, keeping alarms on your chrono to remind you when to sleep. Mando, on the other hand, seemed so completely accustomed to this slippery sense of time that he needed no reminders; this was natural for him.

If you hadn’t already seen some of his skin, you might actually think he was a droid. Aside from his hard metal exterior, the most compelling piece of evidence to support this theory was the fact that he didn’t seem to need much sleep. He disappeared into his bunk for maybe four or five hours a day, plus twenty minutes here or there to eat. You suspected he settled into a half-asleep, half-awake hibernation mode when he sat in the pilot’s seat for hours at a time without moving. Once, he jolted so violently when the child sneezed that he had to catch him by his collar before he slid off his knee.

His relationship with the kid, though, was achingly, heartwarmingly, vulnerably human.

You lived for the glimpses of their bond—the way Mando would remove a single pauldron so he could rest the child’s head on his shoulder to lull him to sleep, whispering to him as he swayed gently. When the kid was restless and energetic from being cooped up, Mando would roll the little silver sphere from a control in the cockpit along the floor of the hull for him to chase. For a generally impatient man, his patience for the child seemed almost inexhaustible; he would hold him and pat his back endlessly while he wailed his way through particularly bad tantrums.

You collected these precious moments and held them close to your heart, unwittingly creating a catalog of comfort that you’d return to later. They weren’t necessarily your moments to claim, as a visitor in their world, but you treasured them nonetheless.

***

You were out of colored contacts. You could only wear each pair continuously for a month, and your current pair was due to be switched out any day. The morning you threw them away, Mando stopped you as you passed him in the hull with a light hand on your shoulder. The kid was tucked in his other arm.

He stepped in front of you, just inches away from your chest, tilting his helmet down to look at you. You looked up to meet his gaze, puzzled. He cocked his head, a silent question.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the color of his eyes.

You held your breath, unsure of what he was going to do.

He said nothing but brought his gloved hand up to your face, running this thumb along the crest of your cheek—so lightly, the leather was barely touching you. The tender gesture brought goose bumps to your arms, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

The kid reached up a tiny hand toward your other cheek, mirroring Mando’s movement. He babbled quietly, breaking the tense silence. You flicked your eyes down to watch him but remained still, not wanting to disrupt the spell of the moment. The baby wiggled his fingers and whined when he realized he couldn’t reach you. You smiled.

You looked back up into Mando’s visor. You wanted so badly to reach out and touch him back, to pull him closer, but you let fear keep you rooted to the spot.

To your astonishment, he dipped his helmet, as if he was going to lean his forehead against yours. He was inches from your face—you could see your surprise reflected in his visor and hear his steady breathing through the modulator. But Mando seemed to change his mind mid-gesture, and the moment was over before you knew it. He straightened, dropped his hand, nodded stiffly, and stepped past you. The child let out a frustrated cry in protest.

Without the kid’s lingering whines, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

Little by little, you were revealing your real self to the Mandalorian, placing your safety in his hands. This would have been harder to stomach if you weren’t getting pieces of him in return. Spending this much time in such close quarters with someone—even someone as closed off as Mando—was enough to get to know them fairly well.

For instance, you weren’t quite fluent, but you were getting really good at reading his body language. He relied on his armor to mask his intentions with strangers, and he wasn’t accustomed to people spending extended amounts of time with him—time to learn his patterns and tells. Over time, it became apparent just how many minute things there were to unpack: subtle tensions in his back and shoulders, clenching of his fists, tapping of his fingers, the lean in his hips, audible inhales or exhales, the tilt of his helmet. Plus, there were nuanced flavors of each movement: a sassy head tilt, an angry head tilt, a confused head tilt. Soon enough, you’d be able to create a dictionary of the Mandalorian’s body language. 

It was strange to think that you’d only been with him for a few weeks, and you might be the only person in the galaxy who could read him so well.

Something else you’d come to learn about Mando was that he was very particular about where his things were kept. This made sense—he’d clearly been living alone for years, if not decades. Of course someone with such a nomadic, unsettled lifestyle would want to carefully control what little in his environment that he could, but his compulsive organization was next level.

You came to this conclusion after you scooted his toothbrush and toothpaste over just slightly in the med cabinet to make a space for yours. The next morning, you opened the cabinet to find his things exactly where they had been before you’d moved them. You looked down to see that yours were sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, waiting to fall to the floor at the first sign of turbulence. Seriously?

That inspired you to devise a fun game—well, it was fun for you. You were pretty sure Mando hated it, though to his credit, he didn’t say anything about it for several days. Every day, you’d move one of his items just slightly to see if he’d notice and move it back. So far, he’d caught every tiny adjustment. He even reoriented his bar of soap when you moved it so it sat slightly off-kilter in its dish in the shower. He hadn’t even showered yet that day.

After three days, he finally cracked.

He was digging through a storage compartment, huffing dramatically though his modulator as he searched for something.

“I can’t imagine you’ve lost something,” you said, from where you were sitting on a crate sharing a ration pack with the kid, who was perched on your lap. “Not with how terrifyingly organized you are.”

“Yeah, well, that was only true before you started moving my stuff around.” 

You grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“I was wondering when you were going to stop,” he huffed, but you detected the lightest trace of amusement in his tone.

“I haven’t actually moved anything,” you laughed. “Just... adjusted.”

He harrumphed, still digging around in the box.

The kid chittered and reached toward your hand for more food. You gave him another piece.

“If you let me leave my toothbrush and toothpaste in the med cabinet, I’ll stop.”

He looked up. “That’s it?”

“I’m a reasonable woman.”

“Deal.”

When you went to brush your teeth that night, one of the three shelves in the med cabinet had been completely cleared for you.

As you slowly began to insinuate yourself into Mando and the kid’s life, the guilt of not telling him about the bounty on your head started to weigh heavier on your mind. He deserved to know, but you couldn’t imagine him letting you stay if he found out. Why would he assume any extra risk? I’ll tell him soon. We probably won’t be together much longer anyways.

***

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

The unfamiliar voice of the bounty hunter echoed over the com in the cockpit. A ship was hot on your tail, landing several shots that rattled the Crest violently. The child, who was strapped into the seat beside you, seemed to enjoy the excitement of the chase, arms raised and giggling. Mando maneuvered the Crest quickly and deftly, so the pursuer was suddenly directly in front of the viewport.

“That’s my line,” he said dramatically, as he pulled the trigger and obliterated the ship in his sights.

Despite the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest, you couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh at that. 

The chase had been short-lived, but the hunter had managed to inflict some serious damage. Alarms beeped and warning lights flashed along the console.

“Losing fuel,” said Mando. He was working hastily, his hands flying from one control to the next. He was trying to address several warning alarms at once.

“You work on that. I got this,” you said, unbuckling.

You stood next to him, attending to the controls in front of you.

“What are—Don’t do that,” he said, “Stop. I need to—”

He didn’t finish his sentence when he realized you were doing exactly what needed to be done to stabilize the ship.

“I thought you said you worked in programming.”

“I did. Mostly avionics.”

The second thruster sputtered and died. The cockpit went dark. All of the usual mechanical sounds that the ship made whirred to a halt. Mando turned in surprise, looking around. He clicked a few buttons. Nothing happened.

The child giggled from his seat.

“I’ll get it.” You walked to the back of the cockpit and wrenched open a panel to do a manual reset of the controls. Some of the lights came back on. Mando flicked several switches, and the displays came alive.

Together, you got the ship in good enough shape to limp to a nearby planet. Luckily, you were already close to Tatooine. The Razor Crest rattled alarmingly as it cleared the atmosphere, and Mando landed the ship with an unceremonious clunk in a bay in Mos Eisley.

Mando left the now sleeping baby in his bunk, despite your objections. That never works. He walked down the ramp to haggle with the mechanic.

Peli was a gruff woman, sassy and straightforward. You liked her right away. Mando deserved the sass Peli dished out, considering he had begun their interaction by shooting at her pit droids when they tried to approach the Crest.

He really hates droids.

You and Mando headed to the cantina to inquire about work. As soon as the ship went dead, you’d both known you’d need to pull a job to pay to fix the damage because there was no way the Crest was making it to your destination in its current state.

You trailed a few steps behind him, watching the intimidating way he stalked down the sandy street, his cape billowing behind him. He seemed less scary now that you knew he secretly had a sense of humor and an occasional flair for the dramatic. And that he once let you sleep on his shoulder. And tied your shoe for you.

When you entered the cantina, you shivered from the abrupt change in temperature. Outside the twin suns beat down; inside the dark cantina, it was cool.

Mando strode up to the bar. You followed him, taking in your surroundings.

“Hey, droid. I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.”

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” replied the droid in a stilted voice.

“It doesn’t have to be Guild work,” you clarified.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation,” said the droid, continuing to wipe down the surface of the bar with a rag.

“Think again, tin can,” interrupted a smug voice behind you. You and Mando turned.

A young man, his legs propped brazenly on the table in front of him, continued, “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends.” He gestured to the seats across from him.

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican. Come on, relax.” He beckoned for you to join him again.

You and Mando exchanged a look and walked over to where he was seated.

Toro swung his legs off the table and slapped a bounty puck down in front of him as you slid into the booth and Mando followed.

“Picked up this bounty punk before I left the Mid Rim,” Toro explained. The hazy image of a woman with dark hair hovered over the puck. “Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she’s been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Toro had thick brown hair and dark eyes, a boyish face despite the scruff of five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He couldn’t be older than 25.

“I’ve heard the name,” said Mando.

You nodded beside him. Fennec Shand was a legend. Having been chased by enough hunters, you were familiar with the big players.

“Yeah, well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she’s headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” He shrugged.

This kid clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

“Well, good luck with that,” said Mando, standing up. You stayed where you were, relaxed against the back of the booth.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Toro looked from Mando to you, confused.

“How long you been with the Guild?” asked Mando.

“Long enough,” Toro spat unconvincingly.

“Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise.”

Mando looked at you and jerked his head to signal that it was time to go. He started to walk away. You stayed seated, saying nothing.

Toro looked at you, pleading. You nodded toward Mando: “You’ll have to convince him.”

Toro scrambled after him. Mando turned to face him, and Toro had to look up to meet his visor.

“This is my first job,” he admitted in a strained voice. “You guys can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can’t do it alone.”

Mando looked to you. You smiled knowingly, and he let out a sigh and nodded.

The man cannot say no to someone who needs help.

Toro was visibly relieved.

“Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” instructed Mando, holding out a hand.

Toro’s shoulders pulled together. Someone doesn’t want to let go of the fob.

Without any warning, he smashed the fob on the wall. It sparked.

Mando gave Toro his angry head tilt.

“Don’t worry, got it all memorized,” assured Toro, tapping a finger on his temple.

“Half an hour,” growled Mando.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, guys,” Toro said triumphantly, turning to look at you.

Mando pushed past Toro and walked back to the booth, leaning down toward you. “I am not that predictable,” he muttered in a low, irritated voice.

“You really are,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll meet you at the hangar in 20. I want real food.”

He nodded and left.

Toro looked very pleased with himself, grinning at you.

“You better go track down those bikes,” you reminded him, gesturing for a droid to come take your order.

Toro ignored your advice. Instead, he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl and slid back into the booth across from you.

“You know what? I have an even better idea. Me and you can take Fennec ourselves. You look like a girl who can handle herself. Let’s ditch that rusty bucket right now and do this together. Fewer people to split the reward.” His eyes sparkled.

Is he fucking serious?

You already weren’t a huge fan of Toro and his cocky attitude, but the minute he called you “girl” like that, your regard for him plummeted. What little patience you had for this kid was wearing thin.

“Not interested.”

The droid came over, and you placed your order.

Toro, still looking at you expectantly, scooted around the table to sit next to you, and you moved in the opposite direction to maintain the distance between you.

“Mando is old, you know? I don’t know if you can tell, but I can. That’s an old man under that shiny armor. You look like you need someone younger to keep up with you.” He winked conspiratorially, as if the two of you were sharing a mutual joke.

You watched him through narrowed eyes, a sour feeling settling in your stomach.

He was clearly terrible at reading people because he responded to your disgusted look by reaching over to run a heavy hand along the inside of your thigh. He barely made it an inch past your knee when you ripped his hand off your leg, tightening your fingers around his wrist until your nails dug into his skin.

“Touch me again and lose a hand,” you spat at him, releasing him and pushing up from the table. You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of the blade at your hip.

“Whoa, whoa! I was just being friendly, sweetheart,” he said loudly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He looked around at the other patrons as if seeking outside confirmation that you were the one who was being unreasonable in this situation.

“You should leave.”

“I was obviously kidding about ditching Mando,” said Toro, shaking his head. “You really need to lighten up.” He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.

You spared him a biting response, fixing him with a glare instead.

“I’ll go find those bikes.” He stood to leave, purposefully brushing past your shoulder as he went.

***

After finishing your meal, you stalked out of the cantina and back to the terminal to find Mando.

He was sitting at the top of the ramp of the Crest fiddling with an open control panel in the wall. He looked up to nod at you when he heard you approach.

“I don’t like that kid, Mando. I don’t trust him. I don’t think we should do this.” You stopped in front of him and put your hands on your hips.

“I know. He’s inexperienced, but he’s harmless.”

“No, that’s what I’m saying—he’s not harmless.”

“What did he say to you?” Mando continued working on the open control panel, only vaguely listening to you.

“He tried to talk me into ditching you and teaming up with him, so we didn’t have to split the reward three ways... He also hit on me.” You added the last part as an afterthought and grimaced at the memory of his gross hand on your thigh.

His head snapped up to look at you. “He—what?”

You looked at him, waiting for him to verbalize a more coherent question. You weren’t sure which part of what you’d shared horrified him the most.

“I—what—uh, yeah, I know... I don’t trust him either,” he continued, “but there are two of us and only one of him. We need the credits—and we’ll get the full reward, like he agreed, whether he likes it or not. We’re not going to find many other jobs here, and I don’t think he’s smart enough to pull anything.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. Toro doesn’t seem capable of critical thinking, let alone concocting and carrying out an elaborate scheme. The bounty was too high and other jobs too scarce to resist.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him. Let’s just finish this job quickly, and then you, me, and the kid can move on.”

“Okay,” you agreed, reluctantly. The way he emphasized the fact that you and him and the kid were a team was an obvious attempt to quell your worries. And it did. Mostly. It was a little startling how well he knew you already.

“Where’s the baby?” you asked, suddenly realizing the door to his bunk was open, and it was empty.

“He left the ship, and Peli found him. She agreed to take care of him while we do this job.”

Again, here he is, trusting a complete stranger.

“I told you he never stays put,” you scowled.

“Don’t worry, Peli already gave me an earful about how much I don’t know about kids.” He sounded defeated, so you decided not to pile on.

“You’re doing a good job, you know. The kid really loves you.”

He seemed surprised by your sincerity, his shoulders pulling back slightly. “I’m not, but thanks.”

It hurt your heart a little to hear him say that. 

***

When you left the terminal fifteen minutes later, Toro was outside, leaning against one of two speeder bikes with a cocky smile on his face.

Peli, who was holding the kid and arguing with Mando about payment, stood in the doorway to see you off. You caught the curious look that Toro gave the baby in Peli’s arms.

“Hey, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh? I could only track down two. You guys will have to share,” Toro said.

You and Mando looked at each other. Mando started to inspect the bike closest to you. Before he could beat you to it, you threw a leg over the speeder bike and sat down at the front of the seat.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked you.

“Driving,” you said, shrugging and reaching into your bag. You pulled on a pair of googles and wrapped a scarf around your nose and mouth. You secured your bag on the back of the bike.

When you noticed that Mando had made no move to join you, you looked at him and tipped your head back toward the seat behind you. “Let’s go.”

You could tell by the resigned drop in his shoulders that he knew it would be more work to try to convince you to scoot back than was worth it. He climbed on the speeder behind you, crowding you forward and reaching his long arms around you to grab the controls.

“Nope. Nice try,” you said, slapping his gloved hands away and grasping the controls yourself.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your middle. You hoped he didn’t notice the goose bumps that appeared on your neck when he touched you. It was way too warm out under the two blazing suns to explain them away.

You jerked your wrists down and leaned forward to take off across the open sand, not waiting for Toro to mount his speeder.

“What the hell??” he yelled after you.

He caught up after a few moments.

After awhile, you let yourself relax back against Mando’s chest, and you smiled to yourself when he tightened his arms around you. 

The suns slipped lower in the sky as you coasted over the shifting surface of the Dune Sea.

***

You and Toro slowed your bikes to a halt when Mando released your waist to hold up a fist.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“Look. Up ahead,” The rasp of Mando’s modulator in your ear and the concurrent rumble in his chest made you shiver, so you hastily hopped off the bike.

Mando stayed seated while you and Toro each pulled out a set of binocs to scan the landscape. Neither of you had the heightened vision that Mando’s helmet afforded him.

Through your binocs, you spotted two Tusken raiders standing beside two very hairy Banthas a short distance ahead. You lowered your binocs and scanned the immediate area.

“Tusken raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” spat Toro, who was still watching them through his binocs.

You stepped back toward the bike as two Tuskens crested the hill you were on. Mando reached out a hand to grab your wrist, squeezing gently. You looked at him, and he nodded reassuringly.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals,” Mando said coolly, turning back to Toro. “Everyone else is just trespassing.”

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” Toro remarked.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” asked Mando.

You grinned. There’s that flair for the dramatic.

Toro turned, and the two Tuskens screeched at him. You laughed at the way Toro positively jumped. Mando stood, raising a calming hand toward Toro, and told him to relax. You followed him as he approached the Tuskens and started gesturing to them, clearly proficient in their sign-based language.

Mando’s hands moved smoothly though deft, controlled movements. You looked down and bit your lip, trying to focus on twisting the toe of your boot back and forth in the sand to prevent your mind from wandering somewhere less appropriate.

“What are you doing?” Toro asked Mando.

“Negotiating.”

The Tuskens signed back to Mando.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“We need passage across their land.”

“What did you think he meant by “negotiating”?” you said, raising your eyebrows at Toro.

“Let me see your binocs,” said Mando, holding out a hand to Toro.

“Why?”

Mando said nothing but kept his hand out, waiting. The two suns, now low in the sky, reflected brightly off his helmet. Toro handed them over begrudgingly, and Mando tossed them to the Tuskens. The Tuskens looked satisfied with their payment.

“He—hey! What? Those were brand new!” stuttered Toro in surprise.

“Yeah? They were.” Mando stalked away and remounted the speeder bike. You followed him.

And there’s that sense of humor. It’s sassy.

“You couldn’t have taken hers instead?” Toro asked, nodding at you.

“Nope,” said Mando.

You smiled sweetly at Toro as Mando scooted back in the seat and let you climb on in front of him.

***

The next time you stopped more abruptly. Mando raised his fist and barked, “Get down!”

You and Mando sprang off your bike in unison and crouched down. Toro, struggling to keep up with what was happening, fumbled with his goggles before following suit.

The three of you made your way to the edge of the dune in front of you, staying low. You set yourselves up on your stomachs at the top of the rise. Not far below, a dewback trudged forward slowly with what looked like a dead rider trailing after it, a rein wrapped around the figure’s limp ankle.

“Is that her? Is that the target?” asked Toro.

“I don’t know... I’ll go.” He looked at you to say, “You two cover me.”

You nodded.

He looked at Toro to emphasize, “Stay down.”

You and Toro pulled out your blasters. Mando ran hurriedly down the dune, his own blaster drawn. He approached the dewback slowly with a reassuring, “Whoa, whoa.”

Mando flipped over the prone body.

“So, is it her? Is she dead?” yelled Toro.

Mando turned, “It’s another bounty hunter.”

Toro turned to look at you. “He’s not planning to keep all that stuff for himself, right? I at least want that blaster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you shut up for one second?”

He gave you a disbelieving look. You ignored him and focused your attention back on Mando.

Mando started to rise, turning suddenly to yell, “GET DOWN!” as blaster fire hit his pauldron, knocking him to the ground.

“Mando!” you yelled.

He scrambled back to his feet and broke into a run. He crested the hill as a second shot screamed after him. Again, it hit him in the beskar, sound reverberating off the metal. He threw himself down with a grunt, rolling towards you in a shower of sand.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get hit, right?” You reached out towards him.

“Yeah, it hit me in the beskar. And at that range, the beskar held up.” He sounded winded.

“What happened?” asked Toro, as Mando set himself back up on the crest of the hill, lying between you and Toro.

“Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot.”

“Fennec,” you said. Mando nodded.

“Did you see where the shot came from?” he asked you.

“Yeah, from that ridge.” You pointed.

“Okay, we’re gonna wait until dark.”

“Well, what if she escapes?” asked Toro from where he was resting on his elbows on the other side of Mando.

“She’s got a good position,” you said. “She’s not moving.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mando. “She’ll wait for us to make the first move.”

Mando rolled over and stood only part of the way up, offering a hand down to you. You grasped it and got to your feet. You both hunched low to keep yourselves behind the protective swell of the dune.

“We’re gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando said to Toro.

You followed Mando back to the bikes.

“Be extra careful. I don’t like you being out here with no beskar,” he said to you, more quietly.

“I will.” 

Your stomach clenched at the way Mando’s voice warmed when he was talking only to you. He spoke to Toro in a clipped tone, like he was scolding an unruly kid. He spoke to you like an equal, a partner. You couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started talking to you this way, but it had shifted recently. It was a tone you’d heard him use with the kid and with Omera. Something that felt a lot like hope sparked in your chest at this realization.

He slumped down against your speeder bike and reached up to pull you down next to him. You leaned back against the bike next to him, your body flush with his, and let your cheek fall against his shoulder.

After a few moments, you could hear a light snore rasping through his modulator. Apparently this man can fall asleep anywhere.

Eventually, you fell into a light sleep, not trusting Toro enough to sleep deeply.

***

You woke to Toro saying, “Time to ride, guys.”

“Come on, wake up!”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. It was dark out; the last lavender traces of the sunset were disappearing along the horizon. Mando was still beside you, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Look at him, asleep on the job. I told you he was an old man,” leered Toro.

You felt the cadence of Mando’s breathing shift beside you.

“You’re right. He’s ancient—basically dead already,” you quipped, patting Mando on the knee to signal that you knew he was awake.

Toro couldn’t tell if you were mocking him or joking with him, so he just looked at you, slack-jawed, trying to parse it out.

“Not quite,” Mando said, jabbing you in the ribs lightly with his elbow. Toro started at Mando’s words.

You stood, this time extending a hand down to help Mando up. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else—he weighed way more with that armor on than you could ever lift. Nonetheless, he took your hand as he hauled himself to his feet.

“We’re going to ride as fast as we can towards those rocks,” explained Mando, pointing to where Fennec was presumably perched.

“That’s your plan?” scoffed Toro. “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem remember the amazing plan that you came up with?” you sniped, raising your hands in disbelief.

Mando snickered, a short rasp through the modulator, and in answer to Toro’s question, he tossed a small item his way then handed something to you.

“They’re flash charges. You two will alternate shots. It’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed, and we got a chance.”

You looked down at the charge in your hand, noting the button that would set it off.

“A chance?!” blurted Toro.

You bit back a scathing retort, turning back to your bike.

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” replied Mando, tipping his helmet at Toro.

Mando stepped close to you, lowering his voice. “Let me sit in front this time. In case she manages to make any shots.”

You nodded in agreement, appreciating his protective nature.

You mounted the bike behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, the charge grasped tightly in your right hand. Mando wrenched his wrists down, and your speeder bike took off, with Toro in your wake.

Mando pushed the bike as fast as it could possibly go, launching it over the swells of sand. You gripped him tighter, and the wind whipped the edges of his cape against your legs.

Apparently Fennec spotted you easily from her vantage point on the cliff because she started her assault immediately, firing at Toro’s speeder first.

Mando reached one hand down for a moment to squeeze your arm, and you understood. Holding his waist tightly with your left arm, you reached your right one up into the air to set off the charge. It went off with a screech. Even through your closed eyelids, you registered the blinding flash of light.

Fennec recovered fairly quickly. She resumed firing only moments after the light dissipated. Mando weaved the bike in a serpentine pattern to avoid the shots.

He turned to Toro and yelled, “NOW!”

Toro let off a charge. Another searing light rippled across the landscape.

After a moment, Fennec fired again, her aim becoming more precise as you drew closer to the cliff. This time, she didn’t miss. A direct shot screamed across the sand and hit the front of your speeder bike. You let go of Mando in the jolt of the impact, and you both flew over the top of the bike and landed in the sand.

Ouch.

Toro zoomed past, looking back for only a second. You didn’t like how easily he left you both behind, but logically, you knew that someone needed to get to Fennec as soon as possible.

You stayed prone on the sand, lifting just your head to see where Mando had fallen a few feet ahead of you. You were relieved when he sprang to his feet and ran back towards you. Without any warning, he lowered himself down over you to protect you from any more incoming fire. He braced himself on his elbows and knees so his body was pressed against yours, but he wasn’t crushing you with the combined weight of his body and armor.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice right behind your ear.

“Yeah.” Your face was pressed against the warm sand. “You?”

“Good. You got the charge?”

You handed it up to him. Luckily, you’d managed to hold onto it during the impact. Mando fumbled for a moment, then lifted an arm to set it off.

After the searing light faded and the dark blanket of night returned, another blaster shot landed in the sand a few feet from your head. Mando edged forward and rested his helmet on the sand above your head. You were completely shielded.

“Thanks,” you muttered up to him, slightly self-conscious that this purely protective position was affecting you so much, a slow heat coiling tight in your stomach. His whole body was flush with yours, his breath heavy and fast in your ear, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his armored chest against your back. The places where he wasn’t covered by beskar pressed warmly against you. Think about anything else.

A shot pinged off his back. Mando tensed and grunted at the impact. You gritted your teeth and focused on burying your fingers in the sand, definitely not thinking about what other things might draw similar sounds from him.

“Alright, I think Toro got to her. Let’s go, but stay behind me,” Mando rasped in your ear, squeezing your shoulder with a gloved hand.

You nodded beneath him, stifling the shiver that was threatening to run up your spine. Think about anything else.

He rolled off you, and you both got to your feet. You breathed a sigh of relief and positioned yourself at his back, both of you drawing your blasters. In the dark, you could see red streaks of blaster fire on the cliff where Fennec had been perched.

“We gotta run,” you yelled, pushing him forward. “Toro wont be able to take her alone, Mando!”

You stayed close behind him, a hand on his lower back, so he knew you were with him.

When you reached the foot of the cliff, you could hear Toro’s groans and Fennec’s grunts, but you couldn’t see them. You and Mando scrambled up the sandy incline that was littered with boulders and crested the cliff right as Fennec wrestled Toro to the ground.

“Nice distraction,” said Mando, training his blaster on Fennec. She reluctantly released Toro from her hold and put her hands up in defeat. You waited, partially concealed behind Mando until you knew she was restrained.

Toro grunted in pain as he stood up slowly.

“Cuff yourself,” Mando ordered Fennec, tossing the cuffs in front of her.

“A Mandalorian. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind.” She stood. “Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn’t go so well there, but it looks like you got off easy.”

Fuck, just how much has she heard about what went down on Nevarro?

Fennec smiled even wider when you stepped out from behind Mando. There was no avoiding her now. Sure enough, recognition flickered in her eyes.

Uh oh.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t my favorite bounty,” she drawled, and before you could react, your name—your real name—fell from her lips. “You lead me all over the damn galaxy, sweetheart.”

***

Chapter 6

[philtstone]

I know you've done a few Bucky and the spider-kids, so maybe Sam and the spider-kids? (for the 3-sentence, I mean)

continuation of the convoluted “sam and bucky open up an underground bar and accidentally adopt a bunch of teen superheroes” post-apocalyptic au that i may never properly write but sure am having fun thinking incoherently about

Peter swings by later in the afternoon. He's here to pick up the AP bio workbook Joaquin dug out of an abandoned Barnes and Noble in the lower city, and to talk shop with Sam.

"Can't figure it out," says Peter. "Just something off. Me and Miles went on a scouting trip topside, got nothing. I think aliens are attacking."

Peter's a steadier twenty-year-old than he was a teenager, with the quiet emotional intelligence to match. He was high-strung and fidgety when he first ran into them, about two weeks after shit hit the fan. Still can't sit still for longer than a second -- Sam's seen that bottle flip about twelve times in the last five minutes -- but when he talks, he talks with a tired, belligerent thread of compassion that Sam understands, someplace deep in his heart.

"That'll be just what we need," Sam says. He digs an ancient bottle of one of those Costco Starbucks Frap things out of the desk and hands it to him. His mom always had a policy -- someone comes over, you give 'em something sweet to drink. They're out of Sarah's limited supply of sweet tea, so this is the next best thing.

Running low on fossilized Frap though, too.

"How's it lookin' up there?"

"Aw. You know. Same-old-same-old."

"Enforcers everywhere, huh?"

"We followed a few of them down here," Peter says, leaning against the window frame and flipping the bottle over in one hand. The dirty neon of the undercity outside the window filters in and colours his dull blue hoodie. He doesn't wear his suit anymore -- just like Sam's hidden the Shield away under the cellar door, behind that big crate of expired Guinness -- but Sam can see the remnants of it in the fingerless gloves covering his knuckles, and the combination of old athletic tights with tougher cargo short material. "This place is crazy to navigate, for the record. No idea whose idea it was pattern it after frickin' LA. But don't worry, nothing about you guys yet. I think all the nice people like you too much to talk and the jerks are a little scared of you."

"We're not scary," Sam says. It's not really a lie. Their vibe is more, do not fuck with us, which wasn't so much a conscientious effort as it was a natural extension of Sam's weariness and Bucky's nonchalant ability to bend Kevlar-plated car doors in half.

"Sam's a little scary," Bucky says. He's on the futon across the room, looking over AJ's spelling worksheet -- a task Sam delegated to Sarah, which Sarah apparently delegated to him. Sam thinks she's upstairs, talking to Ms. Trudy from next door about the old engine parts she brought around for them to fix.

"How's Miles?" Sam asks, instead of acknowledging the continued baseline misery of their situation.

"I mean, he's good."

"He figured out how to reach his parents?"

"Yeah," says Peter. "Found bits of an old Quinjet topside last week. Managed to rig it by the Boonies near Mr. Boyega's place. The thing's so ancient it literally can't get tracked."

"He better be playin' it safe, with all these comings and goings."

"Aw, c'mon, Cap. Miles knows what he's doing."

"Of course he does," Bucky says, from the futon. "He's from Brooklyn."

Sam says, looking over,

"You figured out how many es aqueous has yet?"

"Fuck off, Sam, I ask you for help one time."

He turns back to Peter. "Your folks okay?"

"You know how it is," Peter says.

Sam leans back in his efforts to unearth the AP textbook -- it's for Miles -- and says,

"Yeah? You're still seein' that girlfriend of yours though, right?"

"MJ," Bucky offers from the couch. "Keeper."

"Thank you, people whose opinion on this I definitely wanted."

The kid's blushing. Good, Sam thinks. Getting the shit embarrassed out of you by adults is a healthy, normal activity.

They need more of that around here.

"You gonna take her someplace nice this weekend?"

"Sure," Peter says, rolling his eyes. "The shady drug deal happening at the end of our street by the millionth neon sign. Maybe the creepy Cold War-esque water plant by the bridge."

"You could use the back room here," Sam says. "Like a hotel." He turns to Bucky. "They could use the back room."

"Good room. Nice bed," Bucky agrees, solemn-faced.

"It'll be real romantic. We got Sam Cooke on Kamala's old laptop."

Peter groans. He swings upside down so that his hoodie flops over his arms.

"You know, I really didn't think my twenties would involve living in a military dystopia and getting dating advice from like, the local weird uncles."

"Get your feet off our nice clean ceiling," Sam says. "And uncles makes me sound old."

"You are old," Bucky says.

"You are a literal historical artifact."

He hands Peter the textbook.

"Go do something fun," Sam insists.

He thinks Peter notices the shift in tone. They're all a littler desperate, here, but it's not desperation, not exactly. Sam watches as Peter ducks his head down, and he does nod, once, before swinging back out.

[memeadonna]

Mind Over Monster

I wrote this for a friend, so if you're reading this: Hi RJ!

You and the Bakusquad (plus Shinsou and Jirou, because it is a crime to exclude them) survived the zombie apocalypse, and now roam around hunting down the remaining monsters and rescuing survivors. But you feel like everyone except you has a place in your little group. When someone in your group makes a potentially fatal mistake, you set out to prove yourself. But the question remains: did you ever even need to in the first place?

You kept your eyes closed as you listened, searching in the murmurs around you for something unquiet and unorganized. That was how you would know if there was danger. The mist had long since retreated, but the wind carried it to places where it would rest and collect and re-emerge, using the dead to do its bidding. “Anything?” you jumped and opened your eyes to see one of your companions balancing precariously on the roof of your car.

Kaminari Denki never stopped smiling, no matter what. And considering he was the only reason that you were able to drive this electric car anywhere at all, he was one of your team’s most valuable members. You… also didn’t need to know that he was eye-fucking you right now, but it wasn’t like he could help it. There’s only so much you can turn off in the human mind, and despite your best efforts you usually ended up reading too much into things. It was nice to know that all of your companions thought you were attractive, at least.

This had all started with an accident. An unknown person had been born with some sort of zombification quirk that turned people into mindless zombies forced to do the user’s bidding if they inhaled a mist the user secreted. That person had been killed in a violent car accident that had sent them over the edge of a bridge and plummeting to the dark, angry waters below. As they bled out, their quirk had somehow activated. Maybe it was their way of saying that they did not want to die. Mist had billowed up around them, and within a few hours everybody in that prefecture had been infected by the quirk. The infection had spread across the country and then the world within a few weeks, and now, a year later, this was all that remained. The creatures had never been meant to exist this long, so eventually they began to mutate as well. They gained the ability to infect other creatures through bites, or even absorb body parts and (in the cases of the rare bigger monsters) whole people.

You and your companions had been training to become heroes, but when society had collapsed your goals had changed to survival. Now you travelled around acting like vigilantes, tracking down reported cases of those creatures and protecting civilians. Your class had split off into three groups (as had your grade’s class B), and everybody in your squadron had a purpose.

Bakugou Katsuki was obviously your firepower. He was also your self-appointed leader, and was great at barking orders. Kirishima Eijirou was your muscle – the creatures couldn’t infect him with whatever virus they had (or absorb him, though many had tried), and usually he and Bakugou did most of the heavy lifting when it came to the fighting. Ashido Mina and Sero Hanta were both masters at setting traps or helping with evacuation efforts, and they were also both charismatic and cheerful and kept your group in high spirits. Shinsou Hitoshi could almost always control the monsters to some degree, and even if he couldn’t, he was also adept with his capture weapon and could easily change gears mid-battle. Kiyoka Jirou could detect the monsters moving from miles away, and the speakers on her hero costume were both useful in battle and in evacuation efforts.

Jirou and Shinsou both basically rendered you redundant. Your quirk was a mind reading/telepathy quirk that allowed you to locate monsters (they couldn’t suppress their subconscious thoughts, so it was easier to read their minds), but the more of them there were the more useless you became. You already tended to get lost in your thoughts, but with all of these thoughts swirling around you…

“Hey!” Denki snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Are you okay? Any monsters nearby?”

“Sorry,” you smiled up at him. “No, I don’t hear anything. Should be safe to stop here and recharge.” You hopped off the roof and went to go help pitch your tents.

While you loved the electric vehicle you had looted, it could only go so far with one charge, and it took a lot out of Denki to keep it working, especially considering he couldn’t just charge out of outlets anymore. That meant the group had to stop and make camp in the middle of the day and let him charge up the car. Despite being electric, it wasn’t exactly the most efficient car in the world.

At least it had lots of storage space. That meant you had lots of useful weapons and supplies for killing the zombies. That was no easy task.

The largest beast you had encountered so far had been around eight feet tall and had taken over the corpses of about six people and several dozen animals. These beasts weren’t usually able to use the quirks of the people they had absorbed, but some creatures were anomalies. The one you were hunting now was supposed to be one of those anomalies, and had apparently retained a teleportation quirk, making it tricky to catch. You supposed you could be a little more useful in this case.

“Hey! Stop standing there being useless and start a fire!” Bakugou dumped some of the wood Kirishima had just chopped into your arms, and you struggled to hold all of its weight. He laughed at you as you dropped a piece of the firewood and caught it with your foot. Mina came to your rescue and told Bakugou off with a laugh as you hopped off towards the fire pit. Even he thought you were useless. Especially he. Him. Whatever.

Shinsou used his capture weapon to lift the wood back into your arms, and you smiled at him. He understood you in a way nobody else did, and maybe it was because you both had mind-related quirks, but you found camaraderie in the fact that people tended to be driven away from you or mistrust you. Who would want to be friends with someone that could tell exactly what they were thinking, or with one verbal response could make them do literally anything?

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded as you knelt by the makeshift fire pit and started to stack the wood. “I’m fine, Shinsou,” you replied. “Just a bit of teasing.”

He walked over to the trunk and returned with a box of kindling. He balled up some of the paper and lit it when you were done. You couldn’t even do this small task without help. How useless did they really think you were?

You stood and looked around for somewhere else to help. Mina, Sero, and Kirishima had already set up the tent, Denki was charging the car, and Bakugou was digging around for something in the trunk. Shinsou walked over to go help him, and as you were about to check if Jirou needed anything you were grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground.

“Gotcha!” Kirishima purred into your ear, pretending to bite into your shoulder as he tickled you. You cried out in involuntary laughter, and kicked and flailed in his arms.

“Hey, put me down!” you tugged at the hands around your waist, and he finally listened to you, only for him to turn you around and pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

He pulled away and tilted your face up by the chin. “No more sad face, okay?” he asked softly. “Cheer up.”

Before you could respond, Bakugou started yelling again. “What useless fucker packed up the supplies?” He shouted, and if you weren’t used to that shout you would have probably flinched at the rough tone in his voice.

“Me and Mina!” Denki looked up from his charging duties. “Why?”

“You forgot our fucking food,” Bakugou growled. “Both crates full of food are missing! Seriously? Even people as inept as Y/n and Sero remember to bring the fucking food when it’s their turn to pack up!”

“Calm down Bakugou!” Sero stepped forward. “Is there any way you just missed it?”

Bakugou’s words washed over you like glass in your heart. You had heard them before – he was always calling you a dumbass, or a burden, and while he was that way with everybody, and they just shrugged it off, you just… never could. Bakugou had one of the most guarded minds you had ever seen, and regularly called you a Voyeur if he caught you staring at him for too long. You hadn’t purposefully read his thoughts very much, but his brain seemed to be full of those harsh words and nicknames. It would have been easier if you knew he didn’t mean them.

While your group argued (Jirou, Mina, and Denki were all screaming at Bakugou while Kirishima and Sero tried to break it up, and Shinsou watched with a tired expression), you snuck around to the back of the truck to retrieve a few weapons. You grabbed a small handgun (Yaomomo made you lots of supplies every time she saw you), and a few rounds of ammo. You also grabbed a metal baseball bat for good measure (better safe than sorry), and one of Bakugou’s mini grenades just out of spite. When you returned to camp with dinner in hand, you were planning on detonating it just to scare the bejesus out of him. You wondered if they would still be arguing when you got back.

Maybe they wouldn’t even notice you leaving?

Nobody stopped you as you set off across the field towards the woods. Nobody even spared you a second thought as their restless minds grew more and more distant. You relaxed as you realized you were alone, and hummed quietly to yourself as you crept through the woods looking for dinner.

The birds were singing, and the trees rustled softly in the wind as you wandered farther and farther away from camp. The small stream you crossed was probably where Jirou had collected water earlier, and just for the hell of it you decided to climb up the waterfall. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, but it was about a thirty-foot climb and it looked like fun. Once you were at the top, you followed the river upstream and searched for any thirsty wildlife.

Being the useless party member was boring. No matter what your companions did, you never seemed to be able to see the value in your own contributions. You were able to broadcast messages across large groups of people all at once, which made you invaluable both in evacuation efforts, and when planning strategies. Your range was somewhat limited unless you really pushed your quirk (if you were scared enough the words and pictures could travel up to five kilometers), but the ability to detect thoughts had less limits. Some people (like Bakugou) naturally suppressed thoughts, while others (like Kaminari) did not. It was easy to tell when the monsters were nearby because they could not repress their thoughts whatsoever. Even less than Kaminari. Everything blurred together in one big, overwhelming jumbled mess, and if there were a lot of them you were easily overwhelmed.

People you could deal with. You had grown up in a big city and gone to school in large classes, you knew what people were like. You could be in crowds with hundreds of voices and be unbothered, purely because it was all background noise. It wasn’t meant to be heard.

Sometimes, the monsters knew you could hear them. Sometimes they wanted you to hear.

You were dragged out of your train of thought as you caught sight of dinner. Drinking at the river was a boar, a yearling probably weighing about 45lbs. It hadn’t noticed you yet, and as you aimed your gun for it, careful not to make a noise, it didn’t stir.

A shot through the eye was all it took, and the animal dropped dead. You grinned to yourself as you approached it, and carefully picked it up and slung it over your shoulder. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Bakugou’s face when he realized just how useful you really were. You carried the boar back downstream, humming one of Jirou’s punk songs to yourself.

“Blood,” was the first thought that filled your head, and it made you halt in your tracks. It was so sudden, and so strong that it had startled you. You looked back the way you came and noticed that about two hundred yards away a figure crouched over where you had killed the boar, and as it uncurled its body vertebrae by vertebrae you felt terror grip your heart.

You were alone. Nobody was going to come save you. You were out of range.

The creature had a massive rack of antlers on its head – it had clearly been feeding off of the local wildlife to make it big and strong. Big and strong it was – towering at probably twelve feet tall with a lanky and deceptively fast body. Its mind was full of violent thoughts, and you heard each and every one. As you noticed it, it also noticed you. You heard its thoughts as they ricocheted around a brain that should not have had the capability to think, and as the word “Need!” filled your mind, it lunged for you.

You screamed in terror, and your quirk activated without your permission, sending the horrifying image of this thing leaping and bounding through the air towards you out in all directions. The image of itself halted it in its tracks, but it quickly shook the feeling off. You dropped your boar and aimed your handgun. The rounds did nothing, and the creature picked up speed again, unhinging its jaw and letting out a shriek so loud your ears rang. You fired into its open mouth, once more discharging an image of its maw. That also gave the creature pause, and as your handgun clicked out of ammunition, you reached for your bat and your grenade. Its eyes were so cold as it watched you change your stance, and you swallowed hard as you noticed tiny hands protruding from its chest. Those hands had once belonged to a child, and that made you angry.

Noticing the pattern, you started to send it random pictures and see what it reacted to. It seemed to recognize itself, so you started sending it pictures of its parts – deer, boar, birds, and eventually people. It kept coming at you, but it seemed almost dazed as it avoided your bat. You grinned to yourself as you assaulted it with more images and increasingly complex thoughts, not caring how you swung your bat. You landed a blow and it shrieked in pain. You then assaulted it again, sending it emotions and increasingly complex feelings. You recited math equations, explained how to start a fire, and told it about yourself in the blink of an eye, still swinging your bat. It connected with the skull-like head and broke the bone apart.

It felt anger now, you could sense it, and it wanted you dead. You kept bashing, overwhelming it psychologically. Then, all at once, you backed off. It shrieked at you as it retreated too, which gave you just enough time to chuck your grenade into its open mouth. You hit the deck as the grenade detonated, and the creature’s throat exploded outwards. As it fell to its knees, folding its long legs under itself, you stood once more. You then raised your bat high and dealt the killing blow to its head, scattering brains everywhere. You kept bashing for another thirty seconds for good measure, until all of the thoughts were gone, and the forest was once again quiet. You panted hard in the silence, and as you once more heard thoughts you gave the creature’s head another few bashes, even though you knew it couldn’t possibly have been the source.

By the time you registered the explosions behind you Bakugou was already sprinting towards you, yelling incoherently. Before you could get a word in, he was blasting the creature’s dead body with all he had. He then turned to you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, one so tight that your back popped.

“Bakugou?” you asked in alarm, and he just held you tighter.

“Don’t fucking wander away, dumbass!” he pulled away to growl into your face, eyebrows knit. “We thought we’d lost you.”

The thoughts dancing around his head made you almost shiver. “Thank god they’re safe,” and a thousand variations of that hit you all at once, along with feelings of guilt and fear and pride as he took the time to appreciate the beast you had killed.

Sero was next to arrive, having scaled the waterfall in record time. He swung through the trees towards you, clumsy and graceless. His head was also filled with panic and then joy and then wonder as Bakugou let you go and Sero had his hug.

Jirou and Kirishima clamoured over the waterfall, Mina and Kaminari (who for once, wasn’t smiling) hot on their heels. You were pulled into several more group hugs, and as Shinsou approached even he wrapped you in his arms.

“Why the fuck did you go off on your own?” Bakugou yelled.

“We needed food,” you replied. “So, I hunted a boar, which we can’t eat anymore because this thing showed up.” you gave its carcass a kick. You then walked over to the boar cadaver, which was covered in goo and chunks of brain, and based its head in. You did not want this thing coming back in a new form. Either thing.

“Don’t wander off like that!” Kirishima stressed. “You could have gotten killed! If Bakugou hadn’t been here to kill that thing for you-”

“I killed it,” you cut him off, resting the bat over your shoulder and trying not to sound smug. “Apparently it’s not invulnerable to my quirk. I figured out how to use it. Guess I’m not so useless after all, even if I did ruin dinner. Sorry guys.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows twitched. “Who the fuck said you were useless?” he demanded.

“You did,” you replied. “Earlier today.”

“I told you to stop being useless. There’s a difference,” he grabbed you by the shoulders. “Listen to me. You are not useless. You don’t have to run off on your own and nearly fucking get killed to prove that, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think that’s what we wanted from you.”

Holy shit. Did Bakugou just apologize? To you? Were you dreaming?

He pulled you into another hug. “Don’t run off again, okay, dumbass?” he asked softly.

“Okay,” you smiled softly. “I can promise that.”

“Good,” he growled. “And we found the food crates. Turns out that Shitty Hair over here-” Bakugou punched Kirishima in the shoulder, “-put them away in the tent.”

Kaminari sobbed loudly, interrupting the moment. “Denki, don’t cry!” you were hugging him in an instant, and he clung tightly to you like you would just disappear if he didn’t anchor you. “I’m here, and I’m safe. I promise.”

“It’s not that!” he wailed. “We could have had bacon!”