#where instead of them finding out through a pt test

[ethan-acfan]

Guys I have this scenario in my head when Deku is first starting to like bulk up and get a ton of muscle but he still hides it under his hoodies and stuff, and no one really finds out he is getting stronger until one day during P.E or something, he just blows through all the pt tests and everyone is like "huh?" Cuz mind you, this kid always came in like dead last in these tests even though they don't have quirk usage, and now he's in the top 3 in class behind Bakugo?? And he's not even phased????? So some of the guys are like crowding around him sorta fake hyping him up, like pretending to be happy while also throwing in a few jabs about how he must've bribed the teacher, until one of the kids claps him on the shoulder and just feels pure muscle and is like "wtf??? When did that happen?????"

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 3

Part 2

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1664

The next morning when Damian woke up everyone was much more prepared to deal with his inevitable attack. The restraint on his ankle and Alfred the cat still napping on him helped deal with most of the initall anger that radiated off him though. The goal right now was to convince Damian that he had been de-aged, and all he needed to do was stay with them until the magic wore off. 

The topic of Danyal would come later, for now they needed to focus on Damian. 

Everyone had also prepared an item to show Damian to prove to him that they were telling the truth about his current situation. Alfred was first and had brought him a cup of tea the exact way the young boy preferred when he had first joined them at the manor. Duke showed Damian his school yearbook, and had marked which pages had an older Damian in them. Jason rummaged through the art room and pulled out a few old sketchbooks. 

Those had done well enough to calm the baby assassin down so that Bruce was able to explain the details to the young Damian. Which only served to make him think that instead of this being a test from his grandfather it was actually a scheme to draw him away from his birthright as one of the heirs to the demon head. 

To help further convince him Tim printed out the first DNA test they had done with Damian; making sure to note that the dates on these can’t be altered. Then Dick had showed him photos of him dressed in his Robin costume. What was strange though is that Damian didn’t look pridefully at the photos, only confused. 

Finally it was Bruce’s turn and no one was surprised when it turned out to be a family photo album. It was filled with photos of everyone from the last few years. Pictures of both big and small moments that the family had gone through. What was surprising though is when Damian practically exploded with rage with every page he turned. 

“Chum, is something wro-” Bruce tries to start once he sees how affected the photo album is making him. Only for said book to be launched at his head before he can finish speaking. 

“Get out!” Damian snarls as his eyes dart to everyone around the room as he repeats his words, “Get out!” 

“I told you this wasn’t going to work.” 

“Not now, Jason.” 

Dick makes an obvious move of wanting to comfort Damian, but is clearly holding himself back knowing that his succor would only make things worse. “Dami…” 

“You do not have the right to call me that,” Damian's breath starts to speed up with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “The only one that will ever be allowed to use that name has apparently been long absent from my life. So I will repeat myself only once more; get out.” 

No one makes any move to leave at first and it isn’t until Tim clears his throat as well as putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder does the others finally move. It takes both Duke and Tim to get Bruce out of the room, and Jason ends up having to practically drag Dick out. 

“Why did you pull me away from him! He was clearly on the verge of a breakdown based around the fact that Danyal, his twin, never came here with him! Damian needs someone to be with him right now!” Dick angrily breaks out of Jason's hold on him. 

Jason, immediately matching Dick’s tone retorts, “Since when has that kid ever liked having family much less strangers comfort him? Cause newsflash Dickiebird that what we are to him right now, nothing but strangers who are trying to act way too familiar with him. The only thing your sympathy will do right now is just make things worse!” 

“I’m not going to let my currently 6 year old baby brother mourn a death by himself!”

“We don’t actually know if Danyal is dead or not right now. Just that he didn’t arrive with Damian at the manor 4 years ago.” Tim interjects before any more arguing between the two can continue. “For all we know Ra’s could have sent one twin away to here while keeping the other involved with the league.” 

“Wouldn’t have Damian said something by now if that was the case? He obviously cared a lot for Danyal.” Duke honestly doesn’t know what the right decision is right now, but he’s more inclined to agree with Jason right now. 

Tim runs a hand through his hair in thought, “14 year old Damian, maybe. The Damian that first arrived at the manor four years ago, no way. Especially if he was told explicitly not to say anything. That little brat was still deep in the league mindset, and would have done anything Talia or Ra’s said.”

“Wouldn’t have Ra’s already used Danyal against Bruce though? He’s had plenty of opportunities to use the knowledge of a second child to get B to do practically anything for him. What possible scenario would he be saving that information for?” Dick at this point seems to have calmed down. He’s still obviously wanting to be with Damian, but also knows that Jason is right about how his presence wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment. 

Jason instead of offering any answers to Dick’s questions turns to direct his lingering anger at Bruce, “You’re being awfully fucking quiet right now B, what do you have to say about all this?”

“... I think it’s time to call Talia. I wanted to wait and give Damian the chance to explain himself before doing so, but if the league does still have Danyal we need to start planning his rescue as soon as possible.” 

After asking the boys to keep an eye on Damian, and to check in on him every once in a while without distressing him more Bruce headed upstairs towards his office. Once there he silently stares at the phone in his hand. 

It had been devastating to learn that he had a son, and missed out on so much of his life. Bruce had been angry at Talia, furious even, especially when she had raised Damian to be a child assassin. To learn that she had done this not once but twice shattered him. Even more so when he thinks about how his second son might still be a part of that life when he could have been living here with him instead. 

The alternative to that thought though, the unfortunate more likely option, is that Danyal is dead. 

That he had failed yet another child. 

Bruce presses the number and puts the phone to ear. With each unanswered ring he sees flashes of what could have been if both boys had arrived that day. What was Danyal even like? Was he similar to Damian, or was he the complete opposite? 

“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise hearing from you.”

“I know about Danyal.” Bruce leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Today has already been exhausting, and he knows that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. “What happened to him?” 

The amount of silence that follows tells him that for maybe the first time he has truly shocked Talia with his words. Eventually though she answered, sorrow clear as day in her voice, “How much do you know?” 

“I’d rather you tell me what you know right now.” 

“Danyal died two weeks before Damian was sent to live with you.”

There it was, the hard truth. A child that he was never given the chance to hold, to meet, and to love was dead. Bruce had nothing to hold onto from a child that died way too young. 

“My Father and Damian are the only ones that truly know what happened in that room; I didn’t even know at the time that he had pulled the two of them from their afternoon studies.” She continues softly, “By the time I reached them Danyal was gone. I imagine Ra’s wanted to make an example out of him because he had put his body into the pits … only he never came back out. The pits had even taken his body with them.” 

“Did you never question what happened to him?” 

“Ra’s told me it was none of my concern when I questioned him, and he forbade Damian from telling me himself. He had all evidence of Danyal erased after that; he only exists now in the memory of those who knew him.” 

“Would you have ever told me about him?”

“No.” 

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t do anything more than acknowledging her response before hanging up, and putting the phone down. He wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, and he had more important things to focus on right than interrogating Talia. It seems they’re all just going to have to wait for Damian to learn what happened to Danyal anyway. 

For now though he needs to go back downstairs and make sure they haven’t exploded into chaos due to his absence, but as he exits his office he makes a quiet promise to himself and Danyal. “Even in death you will be a part of this family; I’m so sorry you will never get the chance to know just how much they already love you.” 

Once he reaches the batcave once more he sees Tim and Duke at the computer, Jason laid back with his feet on the center table, and Dick leaning by the med bay door. All of them though stop what they’re doing and look towards him as he enters; waiting for him to tell them what has become of the brother they’ve never met. 

“Danyal is dead.” It hurts to watch his sons lose what little hope they had that maybe by the end of this their brother would be coming home. 

[missarchive]

cognitive dissonance pt 1 - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ part two

who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: fluff, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dry humping, fingering

word count: 5k

a/n: scheduled post as i am away at a new years music festival with my friends :] i will be back with you all in a few days <3

The first time you saw Spencer Reid was during a lecture hall mix-up in your second week at the university. You had rushed in, clutching your notebook and hoping to secure a spot before the professor started, only to find yourself in a room filled with students much older than you. At the center of it all, there he was—leaning casually against the podium, flipping through a worn-out book with an intensity that made the rest of the world blur around him.

He wasn’t the professor, but he might as well have been. His sharp, confident voice cut through the murmurs as he corrected an older man’s calculation on the whiteboard with such precision that the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You’d learned his name that day from the whispers: Spencer Reid. The prodigy. The genius with more degrees than anyone knew what to do with.

From then on, he became a background character in your university life—a distant figure who seemed too brilliant, too out of reach, to exist in the same world as you. You heard the rumors, the awe-filled anecdotes: he’d started college as a child prodigy, aced every test like it was nothing, and was now juggling multiple Ph.D. programs.

Your own academic pursuits felt mundane in comparison. Sure, you worked hard, but you struggled. Like now, for instance, staring at the red marks slashing through your latest assignment—a problem set for your advanced statistics class.

“You’ve got potential, but you’re missing the fundamentals,” your professor said when you approached him after class, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I’m assigning you a tutor.”

“A tutor?” you echoed, your stomach dropping. Group study sessions were bad enough; working one-on-one with someone felt like an invitation for them to witness your shortcomings up close.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a knowing smile. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ve paired you with one of the best.”

You didn’t know what to expect as you walked into the library that afternoon, clutching your notes so tightly your knuckles turned white. The email from your professor had given you nothing but a time and a name: Spencer Reid.

Your heart raced as you reached the designated table tucked into a quiet corner of the library. There he was, surrounded by open books and a tower of index cards, his familiar mop of brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled something into a notebook. He looked up when you approached, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze in place.

“You’re here for tutoring?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected, though no less confident.

You nodded quickly, struggling to find your words. “Y-yeah, I’m… I’m Y/N. My professor said you’d be helping me with stats?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for you to sit. “Let’s get started, then.”

As you settled into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another universe—one where Spencer Reid wasn’t just the untouchable genius you’d admired from afar but someone real, someone tangible, someone who, for the first time, was looking directly at you.

You weren’t sure what you expected Spencer Reid’s tutoring style to be, but it certainly wasn’t this. You’d assumed he might be aloof, perhaps brisk, throwing around jargon you’d struggle to keep up with. Instead, he was patient—meticulously breaking down concepts into manageable pieces while his pen skated effortlessly across his notebook.

Not that you could focus on much of it.

His presence was… distracting. The way his long fingers tapped thoughtfully against the edge of the table, the faint crease between his brows when he explained something particularly tricky, the way his lips pursed as he considered your answer before gently redirecting you to the correct one. All of it sent your mind spiraling into a whirlwind of thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics.

“Does that make sense?” Spencer asked, tilting his head as his hazel eyes searched yours.

You blinked, realizing too late that you hadn’t heard a single word of his explanation. Heat rushed to your face as you fumbled for a response. “Um, yeah! Totally. Makes sense.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “Really? Then can you explain why we divide by the square root of the sample size in this calculation?”

Panic flared in your chest. “Oh, uh… because it… balances the equation?” you ventured weakly.

Spencer set his pen down, leaning back slightly as he studied you. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like he could see straight through the flustered exterior you were so desperately trying to hold together. And, knowing Spencer Reid, he probably could.

“You’re nervous,” he said, not unkindly, but with the clinical precision of someone stating a fact.

Your breath hitched. “What? No, I’m fine!” you lied, your voice raising an octave.

He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “A lot of people feel overwhelmed during one-on-one tutoring. It’s a different kind of pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sincerity in his tone stopped you. He wasn’t mocking you or trying to make you feel small. If anything, he seemed… concerned.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he continued, his voice almost soothing now. “Because if you’re too focused on feeling self-conscious, it’s going to be harder for you to process the material.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. Spencer smiled—a small, reassuring curve of his lips—and slid his notebook closer to you.

“Let’s try this,” he said, switching tactics. “Instead of diving into the calculations right away, let’s talk about what you’re struggling with conceptually. No pressure, no judgment. Just a conversation.”

That did help, marginally. His calm demeanor and methodical approach were like a balm to your frazzled nerves. But every now and then, he’d catch you staring at him for a beat too long, your mind wandering to thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics. Each time, his gaze would flicker with amusement, like he knew exactly what was going through your head but was too polite to say anything.

By the time the session ended, your brain felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge—not just from the math but from the sheer effort of keeping yourself together in his presence. As you packed up your things, Spencer handed you a few pages of handwritten notes.

“These should help,” he said, his voice still as calm and steady as ever. “And if you have questions before our next session, feel free to email me.”

You nodded, clutching the notes like a lifeline. “Thanks. I’ll, um… I’ll do that.”

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and curious. And though you were mortified at how obvious your flustered state had been, a tiny part of you couldn’t help but hope he didn’t mind.

You were determined to be better this time. You’d spent hours poring over the notes Spencer had given you, even rewatching a few recorded lectures for good measure. If you couldn’t control the embarrassing way your brain short-circuited around him, the least you could do was come prepared.

But as you approached the table in the library’s corner and saw him already seated, legs crossed, pen twirling lazily between his fingers, you realized preparation could only take you so far. He looked up as you neared, his hazel eyes lighting up briefly in acknowledgment.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice sounding far too breathy for your liking.

“Hi,” he replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he motioned for you to sit. “Ready to dive in?”

You nodded quickly, lowering yourself into the chair and flipping open your notebook. Spencer wasted no time launching into a review of last session’s material, but as he began sketching out a new problem, you felt your focus slipping again.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Who could concentrate with him looking like that? His hair was slightly messier than last time, a few stray curls brushing against his forehead. He chewed absentmindedly on the cap of his pen as he thought, the motion inexplicably captivating. And when he leaned forward to jot down a formula, the faint scent of his cologne hit you, warm and woodsy, leaving your thoughts spiraling once more.

“Did you catch that?” Spencer’s voice cut through your haze. You blinked, realizing you’d been staring—again.

“S-sorry. What?” you stammered, gripping your pen like it might anchor you to reality.

His lips quirked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I was asking if you understood why we’re using a t-distribution here instead of a z-distribution.”

“Oh! Uh… yes?” you said uncertainly.

Spencer chuckled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “You’re lying.”

Your stomach dropped, and you immediately ducked your head, cheeks flaming. “I’m not lying,” you mumbled.

“You are,” he said, and though his tone was light, there was an unmistakable confidence in his words. “Your body language gave it away. You looked down and shifted in your chair when you answered, which is a pretty common tell.”

You groaned softly, mortified. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why we’re using it.”

“See? That’s progress.” He grinned, and you could swear there was a hint of mischief in his expression. “But I can’t help noticing that your attention seems… elsewhere.”

Your head snapped up at that, your wide eyes meeting his. “What? No! I’m paying attention.”

Spencer tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. “Really? Then why do you keep staring at me?”

Your heart practically stopped. “I’m not—I wasn’t—I mean—” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a flustered mess, and his grin only grew more pronounced.

“It’s fine,” he said smoothly, cutting off your babbling. “I just couldn’t help but notice. You’ve been doing it since last session.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I wasn’t staring,” you lied weakly.

His gaze held yours, unwavering and far too knowing. “You were,” he countered, his voice low and teasing now. “But I’m curious—why?”

“I wasn’t—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were only digging the hole deeper. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “About the statistics, or something else?”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “The statistics,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and almost smug. “If you say so.”

He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table, and you felt the air shift between you. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softer now, “it’s not a bad thing. People observe things they find interesting.”

The words hung in the air, and you swore your pulse echoed in your ears. You couldn’t tell if he was being matter-of-fact or if there was a deeper implication in his statement, but the knowing glint in his eyes kept you from relaxing.

“Let’s try again,” he said after a beat, tapping his pen against the notebook and effortlessly shifting the conversation back to math. But the playful smirk that lingered on his face for the rest of the session made it clear: he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

When you arrived at your usual table in the library, Spencer was already there, meticulously arranging his materials. His long fingers smoothed out the corner of a page in his notebook, and he glanced up as you approached, offering a small smile that made your stomach flutter despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, sliding into your seat.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice warm and low. “Ready to tackle some more statistics?”

You nodded, pulling out your notebook and pen. He scooted his chair slightly closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that you could feel the faintest brush of his knee against yours under the table. You froze for a moment, unsure if it was intentional, but Spencer didn’t react.

“Okay,” he began, leaning toward you to sketch out a problem. As he wrote, his shoulder nudged yours lightly. The contact was brief, but it left your skin tingling.

“Let’s start with this,” he said, his pen gliding smoothly across the page. “We’re calculating confidence intervals today. Do you remember the formula from last time?”

You stared at the problem, willing yourself to focus, but the warmth of his proximity made it difficult. “Uh… I think so?”

“Let me jog your memory,” he said. His hand moved toward your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours as he adjusted it to face him. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“Sorry,” he said casually, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “Didn’t mean to invade your space.”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied quickly, your voice higher than usual. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that the contact had been accidental. But then he leaned even closer, his arm grazing yours as he explained the formula.

“See how the standard error fits into this part?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. It was impossible to concentrate with the way his sleeve brushed against yours, the subtle movement sending a ripple of awareness through you.

“Let’s work through this part together,” Spencer continued, his tone patient. He slid his hand over the notebook, his fingers brushing against yours again as he pointed to a specific number. The touch lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, but his expression remained neutral, as though he hadn’t noticed.

You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if you were imagining things. Either way, the warmth radiating from him was making your thoughts hazy.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you.

“Yeah! Totally fine,” you said quickly, though your face felt like it was on fire.

He smiled, his expression soft but unreadable. “Good. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

You nodded, gripping your pen tightly to ground yourself. But Spencer didn’t make it easy. Every time he reached for the notebook or gestured toward your notes, his hand would brush against yours. Once, he leaned forward to grab a pen, his shoulder pressing lightly into yours for a moment that felt both casual and deliberate.

By the time the session was over, your nerves were shot. Spencer handed you a fresh set of notes, his fingers grazing yours yet again as he passed them over.

“These should help,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “You’re doing better than you think, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, clutching the notes to your chest.

“Same time next week?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

You nodded, too flustered to say much else. As you walked away, you replayed the session in your mind, questioning every subtle touch, every quiet moment of proximity. Was it intentional, or were you imagining things?

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell—and that you didn’t really mind either way.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to have Spencer tutor you at your place. The library felt safer somehow, more neutral. But when he’d suggested it—citing the possibility of fewer distractions—you’d found yourself nodding without a second thought.

Now, as you sat across from him at your small dining table, you were second-guessing every decision that had led to this moment.

“Nice place,” Spencer said as he set his bag down and took in the cozy, slightly cluttered room. His eyes lingered on a stack of books by the couch. “Suits you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, fidgeting with your pen. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company, so it’s kind of messy.”

He gave you a small smile, his gaze warm and easy. “It’s fine. Ready to get started?”

You nodded, grateful for the excuse to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that Spencer Reid, in all his impossibly distracting glory, was sitting in your home.

For the first few minutes, you managed to keep things professional. Spencer explained a complex concept with his usual precision, and you actually managed to follow along. But then he leaned closer, pointing out a detail in your notes, and you felt that now-familiar flutter in your chest.

“You’ve got the right idea,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just need to be more precise here.”

He tapped the edge of the page, his hand brushing yours in the process. The contact was brief but enough to make your breath hitch.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing up at you with those impossibly perceptive eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you.

Spencer’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the table. It felt so casual, so natural, that you couldn’t decide if it was intentional.

For a while, he kept his focus on the notes, but his proximity seemed to grow with each passing moment. The air between you felt charged, like static electricity, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“So,” Spencer said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and studying you with an intensity that made your pulse race, “how are you finding these sessions so far?”

“They’re good,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Really helpful.”

“Helpful,” he repeated, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “You sure about that?”

“Of course,” you replied, glancing up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours, and the weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear. “You seem… distracted sometimes.”

“I’m not distracted,” you said defensively, though the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise.

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped slightly, the teasing edge unmistakable. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you’ve been paying more attention to me than the math.”

Your stomach flipped, and you looked down, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s not true,” you muttered.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers grazing yours as he took the pen from your hand. The movement was slow, deliberate, and it left your skin buzzing.

“Relax,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just helping.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice shaky.

“Yes?” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest of moments.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Spencer’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, the touch lingered, deliberate and unmistakable. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and steady.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself leaning ever so slightly toward him, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a slow, careful movement, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hand resting lightly on yours as he tilted his head. The kiss, when it came, was soft and tentative, like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, your heart pounding as you let yourself get lost in the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“Still distracted?” he asked, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words hung in the air. You couldn’t decide if the heat coursing through you was from the kiss or the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever encountered.

“Very,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened slightly, but it wasn’t the smug grin you expected. It was softer, almost tender, though his eyes still carried that flicker of mischief.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost inviting.

You nodded, your breath catching as he stood and motioned toward the couch in the living room. You followed him, your nerves on edge but your body moving of its own accord.

The moment you sat down, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band. Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, as though giving you one last chance to stop him, before leaning in again.

This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips met yours with more certainty, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as the kiss grew more fervent.

Spencer shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his free hand settled on your waist. The pressure was light, grounding, but it sent a shiver down your spine all the same. His thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against your side, and the simple motion made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to angle the kiss more deeply. He responded immediately, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. The world outside your apartment ceased to exist, leaving only the heat of his body and the intoxicating pull of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s forehead rested lightly against yours, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“I think,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than usual, “we’ve officially crossed into not studying territory.”

You laughed softly, your hands still clutching the front of his shirt. “You think?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers lingered on your waist, and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re full of surprises, you know,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Me?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who—”

Before you could finish, he kissed you again, effectively silencing any protest. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. You sighed against his lips, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you gave in to the moment.

Spencer’s hands, steady but careful, slid down from your waist to rest on your hips. He shifted closer, and you felt the subtle press of his body against yours, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his knee nudged between your legs, your breath hitched, the pressure sparking a warmth that spread through you like wildfire.

You froze for half a second, unsure if the movement had been intentional, but Spencer didn’t pull back. Instead, his lips moved against yours with more intent, and his hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, guiding you just enough for the tension between you to crackle and deepen.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders more tightly as you let yourself lean into him.

Encouraged by your response, Spencer deepened the kiss, his knee pressing more firmly between your thighs. The sensation was maddeningly slow, his movements deliberate and measured as though he was testing every reaction. You gasped softly, and he swallowed the sound with a small, satisfied hum.

His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your ribs just beneath the hem of your shirt. The touch was gentle, but the heat of his palms against your skin left you trembling.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I’m going to ask you a question from one of our sessions. If you get it right, I’ll keep going. If you don’t…” His hands stilled against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk growing. “Well, I’ll have to stop.”

Your mouth went dry. Was he serious? The challenge in his eyes told you he absolutely was.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice shaky with anticipation and a tinge of frustration.

“Hm?” he prompted, his hands sliding down slightly but remaining just beneath your shirt, a silent reminder of what was at stake. “What’s the formula for calculating a confidence interval?”

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to recall the formula you’d seen so many times in your notes. But all you could focus on was the way his fingers were still, waiting, as though they held the key to your ability to think.

“Um,” you began, your voice faltering. “It’s, uh, the mean… plus or minus… the critical value?”

Spencer’s smirk widened, his head tilting slightly as though he was considering your answer. “Close,” he said, his hands retreating slightly. “But not quite. Want to try again?”

“No, wait!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing as you tried to focus. “The mean plus or minus the critical value times the standard error?”

He hummed softly, his fingers resuming their slow circles. “There it is,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “See? You can focus when you want to.”

Your heart pounded as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the underside of your bra. The sensation was enough to make your breath hitch, but you barely had time to react before he spoke again.

“Next question,” he said, his tone taking on a slightly firmer edge. “What’s the first step in solving a regression problem?”

Your brain felt like it had been set on fire. How were you supposed to remember academic concepts when his hands were touching you like this?

“I—I think…” you stammered, biting your lip as you tried to focus. “The first step is… identifying the variables?”

Spencer’s brow lifted, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. “Good,” he said, his hands sliding back down to your waist. “But don’t forget to check your assumptions first. Details matter.”

You let out a soft whine of frustration, but the sound turned into a gasp as his knee pressed gently between your legs again, reigniting the fire building in your core.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he spoke. “But I think you can do better.”

The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve crumbling under the weight of his attention.

“What’s the difference between Type I and Type II errors?” he asked, his tone almost clinical despite the heat radiating from him.

“Type I is… rejecting a true null hypothesis,” you managed, your voice shaky. “And Type II is failing to reject a false one.”

Spencer grinned, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Excellent,” he said softly. “You’re such a quick learner when you try.”

The praise made your heart race, warmth blooming in your chest as his words sank in. You barely had a chance to respond before his hand slid lower, resting on the bare skin just above the waistband of your pants.

“You deserve a reward,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A reward?” you managed, your voice breathless and unsteady.

He chuckled softly, his lips moving to your neck, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. “For all your hard work,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers toying with the elastic of your waistband. “Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”

Your only response was a soft, shaky nod, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Good girl,” he said, the words barely above a whisper, but they sent a jolt through your entire body.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his touch deliberate and teasing as he traced the edge of your panties. He paused for a moment, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with certainty.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped lower, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your panties to find your most sensitive spot. The first touch was light, almost experimental, but it was enough to make you gasp softly, your body arching into him.

“That’s it,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “You’re doing so well.”

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to leave you trembling in his grasp. His other hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could capture your lips in another searing kiss.

The contrast between his steady, controlled movements and the growing intensity of his kisses was intoxicating, leaving you completely at his mercy. He broke the kiss just long enough to study your face, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a surprising tenderness.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

The praise made your cheeks flush, but before you could respond, his fingers pressed more firmly against you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So responsive. So perfect.”

His words and touch combined left you completely undone, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. All you could do was cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist: @opheliahotchner

[keelt9]

TICK TACK

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t know but yeah, I see Oscar on leading for a while… plus I’m optimistic for the championship.

Should I post part 2? Pt. 2😏

She didn’t mean to fail the last exam, forcing her to sentence her subject and the last semester of her career. Still, there she is sitting as she taps the wooden floor with her best friend giving her all the support she could.

“I still don’t get it.” Gema said seeing down where the last group of students are answering the exam as the other two groups remind up there of the auditorium, waiting.

That’s how Doctor Thurpin works, you fail a test and if you want it back that grade, he gladly will wait for you the next weekend, literally weekend because he, quote, likes the Sunday for a good and refreshing replacement of exam.

“You are so good at this. How do you fail?” Gema sentences looking around the people who are tired and impatient for Mr. Thurpin, started to grade.

Y/N tosses her hair in desperation.

“I DON’T!” The room full of shh as the eagle eyes of Mr. Truphin makes her scream in silence. “It was the GP of Bahrain, I stayed awake until 4 in the morning and I woke up at 7 am.”

She scoffs, still hard to believe how life is playing tricks with her. “At that hour the exam begins, I fall asleep.”

Running and with different shoes, she arrived at a closed classroom hoping for mercy but Mr. Thurpin only pointed to his watch through the windows before waving his hand.

“Talking with Oscar, huh?” 

For Gema it is still hard to believe, if three years ago someone told her on a random day she found the one and only Oscar Pastri coming out of the bedroom on the 4th floor of their dormitory as her best friend grabbing his hand, she would call them crazy.

Until her eyes witness. Gema left the dormitory that weekend to spend a few days with her family, Y/N told her she had a lot of homework so she will be staying, she forgot to mention her homework, which is called Oscar Piastri.

Almost a heart attack after, she discovers that weekend her best friend made official the relationship with a boy she met on a casual day, last summer, as she helps her mother in the store they had next to the beach. 

“I wish. Actually, I was waiting for his call.” She smiles, lighting up the screen of his phone. “But the press conferences kept him busy.”

A photo of Oscar with his first trophy, the first win.  

“By the way, thanks for changing my flight.” Y/N said to tangle her arm with her best friend. 

She was supposed to be in the airport taking a flight to Saudi Arabia for the grand prix, instead of waiting for a grade.

Gema takes another gummy. “No worries, I call it good persuasion and family contacts.”

The ringing of the bells announce the end of the exam of the third group, finally Mr. Thurpin will begin to grade under the anxious eyes of his students. 

Taking his damn time like he actually doesn't know every answer.

“I'm freaking out.” Y/N whine seeing another text of Oscar.

 >I couldn't find you! Dinner later?

She doesn't mean to lie to him, however for Oscar she arrived in Saudi Arabia time, early in the morning. 

Watching the free practice and the race from the stands where she said prefers to, otherwise she would freak out hearing him with a lot of numbers and letters on the big screens.

Of course Oscar adapts her choice to the VIP zone, in the stands but in a zone he's able to see her every time he goes down from the car.

But, this Grand Prix is an overwhelming step of what he's capable of doing and he's hungry for the victory. And she doesn't want him being distracted for anything else, of course less for her.

Gema didn't need to read it, the way she hissed as her phone started to spin between her fingers is all she needed for knowing Y/N lied about something.

“He doesn't know, huh?” Gema asks as they hear another person being called for the note.

Y/N let her head down, shaking it. “The race is the most important thing, he must be focused on that.”

Gema has seen how Oscar looks at her, she is essential for him, to be in an important race it’s pure fuel to him.

“You'll be there, don't worry.” Y/N sees her. “Or we can find a way to get you there.”

Gema winks at her.

Oscar is nervous, it's late at night and his message, still with no response, he's not that toxic but it's strange.

The time difference isn't helpful sometimes but she replies no matter the time, this time seems to be the exception.

“All good?” Lando asks as they walk inside of the hotel after dinner together.

Oscar's eyes aren't stuck to his phone but his hand does.

Oscar moves his head around searching among the few people in the lobby.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Oscar asks as Lando smiles seeing his friend so over the clouds.

His non expressive face changes into a breezy smile and bright eyes every time he's with her.

“That clingy, huh?” Lando teases him as he scoffs.

“I haven't seen her, and she hasn't replied, I'm a little worried.” Oscar sees his screen but nothing, just her picture.

Last year, she was in the middle of the paddock doing homework before the qualy, notebook on her lap and headphones over as she heard all the indications to Oscar, she jokes with him saying it’s her favorite playlist. He owes the photo to one of his engineers.

Ok, for Lando that's weird too. Yeah, she isn't the most searched wag of the paddock but she's nice and lovely plus hates to worry Oscar.

Lando thinks for a second, who could find out something, but he doesn't have a clue.

“If you call her?” The lethal eyes of Oscar is the sign of how stupid his question is.

He already called her…right to the voicemail after the third beep.

The elevator doors open even though he is willing to wait for her; he also knows must sleep early. 

Dragging his feets to the room he gets ready to go inside of the bed with discomfort all the time.

When his phone rings, Y/N is calling.

“Ba…” Oscar begins but she doesn't let him talk.

“I'm sorry, I lied to you.” She hears anger as the audible sound of wheels against the floor calls for his attention. “I… fuck, I couldn't take the plane on time, and the one I had scheduled is cancel…”

Is not hard to imagine her furious sitting next to her suitcase tired as she keeps looking at the screen where the flight status doesn't change at all.

“Are you alright?” The question of Oscar makes her eyes watery, this isn't exactly she refuses to call him, he will say something that makes her want to cry.

Oscar hears the sniff through the call, wanting badly to hold her but he simply can’t. 

After a detailed description of what happened Oscar understood the reason for her silence.

“Love, I already told you if you had more important things to do next day, it’s ok, you don’t need to watch the race.” Oscar said sitting on the bed feeling useless for not being able to do something. 

She’s seeing the planes leaving and arriving from the big crystal walls. “Are you trying to get me more mad?” 

The same times, she told him that she can’t be with him at every race. She likes to think watching the race is the minimum she can do for him, in a way to be with him even in the distance.

“It’s my fault, ok? You know I don’t have trouble with waking up the next day… This time my alarm doesn’t work as it should.” She slipped on the floor one more time. “I’m sorry I can be with you tomorrow.”

“Can you do one thing for me instead?” Oscar smiles at himself. 

Y/N chuckles. “Without a question.”

“Go home, sleep, you probably need it and watch the race tomorrow as you eat something delicious.” She feels her heart squeeze as his tenedernes. “I’ll make sure to fly as soon as I finish everything here. George wouldn't mind giving me a ride.” 

She giggles seeing the same status of her flight: cancel.

“I’m…” 

Oscar shakes his head and cuts her. “One more apology and I swear to you I’m going to be stressed for tomorrow.”

 “NO!” She feels shy when multiple eyes land on her sitting on the floor. “Sleep, and focus on the race, that’s all you need to do.” She breathes in and resigns herself to missing the race. “I’ll be watching you ok?”

Oscar smiles and nods. “I know.”

Y/N plays with the zip of her suitcase. “I love you.” Oscar definitely knows how to comfort her. 

“I love you too, I know we’ll be celebrating you at the top… You’re a monster on track Oscar, believe it.” 

Oscar closes his eyes, seeing the charm he always carries with him, next to the bed.

In the drivers parade he keeps focus, he talks with some pilots but his mind is control and focus, he knows having Max at his side in the first position it’s always a beating risk, still he’s not afraid.

Getting inside of the room, he changes his clothes in calmness, when a knock on the door distracts him. 

Tom, his engineer, appears in the room. “Oscar, let’s go.” 

Oscar nods, watching one last time their photo with a pair of tape at the four corners. 

“She couldn’t come huh?”  Tom knows who Y/N is, he must know the girl who is being so discreet about their relationship, still so unbothered each time she needs to show Oscar how much he cares about him.

“Sometimes I hate the commercial flights!” He shouts in whisper touching the photo before walking to the garage. 

With the last indications of the team Oscar goes inside of the car taking mental notes of the telemetry and the indication of the team.

“Ok, Oscar, radio check.” He hears once he’s inside of the car.

“Copy.” He answers, making sure all inside it’s all right.

“Ok Oscar, before we start we want to run one last test.” Oscar sees in front where all the engineers are but any of them turn around, one last test in the last minutes? “We call it missed assistance.”

Oscar scoff. “Is it legal?”

“It’s a valid test with no virtual witness.” Oscar is more intrigued, but they don't ask him more questions.

“Radio check.” Her voice put in alert all the senses of Oscar scanning over and over the garage in the front part.

He giggles. “Copy.” 

“That advance is technology, huh?” Oscar is sure she never imagined how much he loves her rambling. “Talking through my phone to the helmet of an F1 driver.”

Oscar let his head back under the cheeky eyes of his team. “Not any formula one driver.”

“Right! Sure, I forgot to specify.” She laughs. “Oscar Pastri helmet, which will result in my boyfriend, it's an out of world experience.”

Oscar laughs, at the other side of the garage Lando is shaking his head before going inside of the car, you don’t have to question yourself who is calling him. 

“Now, Tom told me to be short.” She cleared her throat. “Drive safe, focus and it’s useless to say but stay calm, and the most important thing…”

“Have fun.” Even though he refuses to bring that feeling he wishes she could be there to hear those words as she is resting among his arms and her arms around his neck. 

“NO.” She raises her voice. “Win that race!” 

Oscar laughs harder this time. Even Zak can hear him, looking at Tom who has a proud smile on his face. 

“I’m joking.” She stops laughing too. “Have fun, ok?”

“God! I wish you were here.” Oscar whispered.

Before Tom interrupts them. “Ok, baby doves, it’s time, one last word Y/N please.”

“I love you.” Who said it first doesn't even care, the important thing is the last words they heard from each other.

[dadsbongos]

dog and rabbit

9.5 k words / summary - When your party is locked into a stuck trap, you and Laios are the only ones who can bare each other. You both want to be consumed, one literally, and know that only the other can fulfill your desire.

warnings - reader with she/her pronouns, cannibalism as a metaphor for love/cannibalistic thoughts and imagery, fully romantic but no upfront confession, allusions to spoilers but everyone should be safe to read, reader has ego issues and parental issues, laios and reader are both FREAKS, starvation as a plot device

~~~

pt 1 - dog eat rabbit

Mama’s hands are crusted with drying mud, dirt flakes up her bare arms as she smooths a lumpy plot. She’s knelt down, across from her is Papa, and beside Papa is his dog -- tail wagging and mouth dangling open to pant, pant, pant. Between them all is the small rectangular grave Mama just finished pampering. A thin stick sits up straight from the head of the filled hole. You stand at the other end, staring at Papa’s dog with ambivalence.

You wanted to sanitize her vibrant scratches and swelling bite marks, and you wanted her scrapes to get infected. You hoped she would recover to her yippy self soon, and you prayed the mounting limp from her front right paw was permanent. You’d be devastated if she died of her injuries, and you’d find the death to be just.

She’s terrible.

You mock up a world where she was the one eaten instead.

She’s your sole best friend now.

You hope she’s full, no longer at risk of starving to illness.

“Sit, girl,” Papa beckons, a calloused, wrinkled finger directed towards the gaping spot by your mother’s side, “Be respectful. You wanted this memorial, now be part of it.”

“I didn’t want- !“

As if sensing your following words, Mama hisses a sharp shush, then pats the ground beside her. Papa raises a brow at you, testing. Sunlight burns your back, and you spontaneously decide the shaded spot by your mother is more appealing (entirely unrelated to your parents’ demands).

Now, you are face to face with your new best friend because she is your real best friend’s murderer. You hate her. You love her. You want her to feel every shred and tear and pierce she inflicted upon your bunny.

“Darling,” Mama coos, fingers dancing up your shoulder and through your hair, uncaring for how she ruins the strands, “be realistic. A simple marsh rabbit was never going to survive out here.”

“He followed the river out for a reason,” you murmur, now looking down from the big, remorseful, wet eyes of Papa’s dog, “We were meant to be best friends.”

“You’re not a baby anymore,” Papa snaps, rising onto his feet, he glares at you. He glares at you with deep lines retracing their places in his forehead, and his hands clench so hard they shake, until they suddenly go lax. He waves both hands out, shaking them free of all tension as he sighs and turns and prattles down towards the ocean.

His dog follows, slower than she used to with a pause and caution fresh to her gait, licking his hand as he pulls free his fishing pole from the sand. Mama pats down your back and mutters apologies.

You rise shortly after and whistle the dog back into your small shelter, knowing how her wounds will burn should she follow your father into the lapping sea water. She licks your face and you pet around the open scratches from this morning.

You dream that night of what would happen if you let her wander into the ocean.

You wake up with an incredible sense of guilt.

…

“I’m so tired,” Marcille dregs her weight onto your back, causing you to stumble under the sudden hefty addition, “We should stop soon!”

“Agreed,” Chilchuck huffs, stretching his arms out in front of him.

“How about you?” Laois coils at the waist to glance back at you, brows raised high, “Packs wearing you down?”

“No!” you howl defensively, hands wriggling deeper into the leather of Chilchuck’s waterskin when Marcille moans in protest to your denial, “But! If everyone is tired then we should settle down, probably. I think.”

“I think so, too,” Laios nods, deferring to Senshi -- the pair murmuring about which of the dark archways lining the dungeon hall leads to a safe rest stop.

Your party finally piles into an off-room, Marcille still slouched against your back to send you both careening towards the far left end of the cellar.

“Hmm,” Chilchuck points up towards a series of holes in the cobbled archway, “It looks like this room’s rigged to lock us inside. So be careful to not step on this tile, it’ll activate the- !”

Senshi grunts over the sudden sinking in his left side, foot slid over the edge of the stone Chilchuck’s index finger is aimed at, “Whoops.”

A scream escapes the half-foot, Chilchuck narrowly rolling out of the way of downcoming spears. Pointed ends stab towards the cobblestone floor, tips scraping rock, effectively trapping your lot into the cellar.

“Eek!” you scream, both hands pawing at Laios’ arm, “We’re gonna die in here!”

“Shut up, we’re not gonna die in here,” Chilchuck groaned, rising to his knee to inspect the lock attached to the middlemost bar, “I’ll get it open in the morning. If anything, it might help keep us secured overnight, so I can’t be mad.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” you ask, Marcille nodding in backup to your question.

“It’s a pretty simple lock, so it shouldn’t cause me too much grief in the morning.”

Laios nods, stepping back carefully to avoid jangling you off his arm as he sets out his sleeping bag. You stand over him now, hands splayed gently across his back as he flattens his mat, “If you’re gonna stay by me, could you help me get my armor off?”

If anyone except Laios were to ask, you’d probably take offense to the wording -- but it was Laios, and you know Laios well enough to know he’d never want to hurt your feelings.

So you nod, despite the fact he cannot see you, “Of course!”

Neither you or Laios is certain when physical contact became so normal between you, only that now it's strange for Laios to remove his heavy plating without you. So he tries to suck up every opportunity he can now, requesting your assistance whenever the party stocks into a room with a door to keep out ambushers.

“Hey,” Marcille beckons from across the room, already having set out both your mats, “I thought you’d be by me tonight.”

“I will be! Just… helping…” you return focus to Laios, giddily undoing the leather straps of your leader’s grieves before rushing off his pauldrons.

“Thanks again,” he works off the clasps on his arms, slinking free from each piece with a noisy series of clunks and thuds.

“I love helping,” you rationalize quickly, face alight with glee as you wait for Laios to set aside his gorget. Once given a go-ahead nod, you eagerly grasp the lip of his cuirass by the waist and tip upwards. While you’re not lying about your natural proclivity to be helpful, you’re also not terribly against feeling the broadness of Laios’ body up close.

You blame it on admiration.

You admire how he can move so smoothly in such heavy pieces. You admire how despite the both of you being tall-men, he’s managed to occupy the stature to a fuller extent than you. He’s not just big because of his race, but he’s got real discipline to continuously train and hone his combat skills. His muscles are as aesthetically pleasing as they are a sign of his dedication.

In a weird way, you think every monster to be eaten by him should be honored.

Ironically, that night you dream of the party’s first encounter with monsters you couldn’t eat: Orcs.

…

“First ones to die are the ones with the weapons!”

“Aah!” you shriek, immediately releasing your daggers so the blades crash by your knees with a faint tink, tink, tink, “I’m unarmed! Please don’t kill me!”

“Have a backbone!” Chilchuck shouts at you, though beads of sweat are pouring down his face as well.

“I don’t wanna die, Chilchuck!” you cry, sniffling.

“I don’t either, you know?” he hisses in your ear.

Your eyes are too clogged by waterworks to make out the following dispute between Senshi and the Orcs. Now hugging a pair of onions to your chest for support rather than your teensy needlepoint daggers.

“Them veggies be something you grew, I guess?” despite the lilt in his tone, you don’t take the Orc Chief’s tone as a question, “We’re on a supply run lookin’ for food. ‘Preciate if you’d share them with us.”

“Sure, be happy to. What you got to trade for them?” Senshi must be crazy to expect a trade with big, hungry Orcs with big, shiny weapons surrounding you all.

“No trade. Tribe’s desperate, we barely got up to this floor alive. You’ve been a good friend and I hate to do this, but… hand over everything you got. Right now.”

You fumble the onions between your arms, then shirking off the carrots tangled in your bag’s side pockets. Senshi glares at you through his peripherals, grumbling quietly for you to pick the crops back up before returning to his parley with the Orcs.

Unfortunately, your obvious compliance earns you no favor compared to your comrades.

“Coward,” Marcille thunks her head against the cabbage in her hands, “Coward!”

“I was scared!” you wish you had your forfeited onions back, even if only to provide something to cling to. The space between your arms feels so glaringly empty it makes your racing heart swerve to overdrive.

“Everyone was!” Chilchuck glares up at you, then toward Senshi, “Except that idiot.”

“Be nice,” you knot your fingers together, only to watch them unravel again as your group is herded towards the Orcs’ makeshift camp. Then, you look to Senshi for backup, “Besides, they were getting thrown out if we couldn’t trade, right? What’s the harm?”

Senshi shakes his head at you disapprovingly, and it oddly cuts deeper than when your father would do the same, “You need to stand your ground, that’s the difference.”

“Don’t antagonize her,” Laios jumps in, voice level in spite of the agitated pinch in his brow, “You all know she hates pain.”

“Who doesn’t, dumbass?!” Chilchuck grits, quickly hushing himself, “None of us want to suffer.”

With admittedly no comeback, even with all your prayers that he’d clunk one together, Laios shrugs, and -- as if sensing your dilemma -- sticks out his bicep for you to hug to your chest.

…

You woke up feeling despondent, gloomily rolling up your area and preparing for the day’s adventure while Senshi made breakfast. And as much as you wish Laios’ curiosity could inspire any excitement within yourself to try the lumpy larvae porridge from cellar-dwelling insects, you’re really not craving any.

“Hey!” but there the blonde is, calling to you and restlessly patting the floor beside him, “Come on, it’s almost ready!”

With weak, frizzly resolve, you conceded in an instant. Just as instantly, you regret it.

Faint, tangy iron clings to the gum of your mouth. A sourness washing over your palette soon after. Your lips press tightly before your tongue lolls out and you’re scraping the harsh edge of your spoon down your flesh, “Blehhh…!”

“Seriously?” Chilchuck sighs, though not withholding his own scrunched face, “You’re acting like a kid.”

“It’s gross!” you whine, bowl clattering between your legs, “It hurts my mouth!”

“Really?” Laios leans in from your left, his chest, while still unguarded, crushes against your shoulder, pointing down into your bowl with his own spoon, “Mind if I have yours?”

“Be my guest,” you slide the bowl his way, then squishing the tip of your tongue into your top gums, “I think it burnt a dent in my mouth.”

Chilchuck groans this time, loud and abrasive, eyes narrowed at you, “It’s not even that bad.”

“You’ve been brainwashed! Monster guts are monster guts, and this time their stomach acid burned my mouth!” you look to your right, at the elf contently munching on Senshi’s cooking, “Right, Marcille?!”

(Senshi’s rebuttal of, “Ain’t no guts in this.” goes unnoticed)

“Hm?” she withers under your pointed stare, shoulders shriveling towards her chest, “I mean, yeah, it is weird…” then she lifts her bowl level to her face, dodging your gaze, “But I don’t think it's burned my mouth.”

“Maybe I’m allergic,” you drivel, focus flitting to Laios’s hands as he grabs your serving to dig in -- even licking the excess off your abandoned utensil, “If I’m allergic I might die…”

“Or you’re just crazy,” Chilchuck intervenes.

“Be nice to me!” you cry, raising a fist as if to strike the man over your fire. You’d never, you don’t have the courage.

Laios nods, “Be nice.”

“You’ll be hungry later,” Senshi chastises, “Eating is the privilege of the living. You’re squanderin’ it.”

“We’ll have lunch later,” you curl your knees to your chest, binding them with both arms tight around your thighs, “I can wait.”

“Who says we’ll find anything worth eating?” you doubt Chilchuck cares about either your stomach or Senshi’s cooking, you instead boldly assume he just wants to keep lecturing you.

“We will!” you lay your head against Laios’ shoulder, peeking up at the man through your lashes, “Right, Laios? We’ll find food again today.”

“I mean, yeah,” he blinks down at you cluelessly, “Deeper we go down, the more we’re bound to find!”

“See! We’ll find food!”

“It’s too early to be fighting…” Marcille frowns, eyes flicking from you to Chilchuck, and back to you.

Chilchuck retires his own bowl and grossly wipes his mouth off with his arm before scooching to the door, waving off whatever retort could follow.

Senshi takes both yours and Laios’ bowls once both are emptied before turning to you, “You may want to dig into the spare snacks in your bag anyway. Ain’t good to start the day on an empty stomach.”

His sudden warmth inspires a molten ooze in your own chest, you shyly nod before muttering, “Sorry for calling your cooking gross… it isn’t, actually. I liked- !”

“Larvae pods can’t be for everyone,” he cuts you off with a speedy recovery, “More for the people that do enjoy it.”

“Thanks for sharing!” Laios claps your back, trying to be friendly and only rattling your balance.

Senshi and Laios begin packing up as you spindle onto your hands and knees to crawl the couple of paces towards your bag. Creeping a hand under the flap to dig for treats, your whole body spiking with goosebumps and raised hairs when you distinctly miss any indentation of rations in your palm. You prattle forward another two knees-worth and unlatch the golden clasp to dig through your bag.

“Oh, no…” you mutter, movements growing more agitated the longer you go without finding food, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

“You okay?”

You jump back, clenching both hands over your heart and nodding rapidly, “Yeah, fine! No worries here, Laios!”

“Sounds good!” he backs away to continue assisting Senshi.

“No!” suddenly, Chilchuck’s voice stabs through the room, “No, no, no, no, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Marcille rushes over, clutching Ambrosia between unsteady palms.

Thankfully the party’s attention pivots to the screaming lockpick and you get the grace of pretending there’s absolutely more food left for your group. No problems here!

“It’s jammed!” Chilchuck wrangles the silver bars, then latching onto the boxy lock itself as if to choke all life from the metal, “How am I supposed to pick a lock if the lock isn’t sufficient quality?!”

Or, apparently, you cannot pretend. At least not for long because a problem arose on the opposite side of the cell.

“You can get us out though, right?” Marcille’s grip on Ambrosia loosens, even calm enough to lay the staff against a wall.

“Of course, I can. Who do I look like?” Chilchuck scoffs.

Silently, you beseech Chilchuck’s expertise surpasses this lock’s apparent lack thereof.

“So, how’s the door?”

.

.

.

“Still not open!”

“I thought you were a specialist on these things, Chilchuck.”

All fiddling and knocking ceases in an instant, Chilchuck now staring dead-eyed at Laios for his unwelcomed quip.

“So scary,” Laios whispers beneath his breath, then turning towards you with a subtle downturn of his lips, “What’d I do?”

Hugging yours and Chilchuck’s bags closer to your chest with a stilted shrug, you reply, “I guess he didn’t appreciate the input.”

“I thought- “

Chilchuck’s icy stare kills your leader’s words in his throat.

“Well, we still have leftovers, so we aren’t in trouble of starving for awhile,” you fabricate, digging a hand through your bag to aid your illusion of ease, “When we do run out, I have a plan! So don’t worry about going hungry.”

“Hm?” Laios quirks a brow at your uneven grin.

Before he can prod for more direction, Marcille’s popping back and relieved groan creak through the room. She arches up from her recline on the ground, gold tresses fluttering out around her head. With more huffing and moaning, she flips onto her stomach and stablizing onto her elbows to stare at Chilchuck’s twiddling. Poking and striking various chords and rods within the lock’s bottom hole, you can hear Chilchuck’s frustrated swears in both common and native tongue (though the longer he goes without success, the more obscure and foreign his curses sound).

You’d hate to see Chilchuck face more defeat than he’s already bore. Few hours have passed since waking to find yourselves locked in the dungeon cellar. Chilchuck will soon be considering blood sacrifices made from all four of you, you fear.

“You know, it’s been awhile since I could wash my hair… would be nice if we were out so I could take care of that,” Marcille grins, already knowing the response she’ll pull talking like that.

“Marci, be quiet…!” you whine anxiously, eyes narrowing on Chilchuck’s back.

The man slowly turns his head to narrow his eyes at Marcille, “Huh?” she shrugs coyly, curling a finger into framing strands of her long hair, Chilchuck laughs. Rage thinly veiled by (obviously forced) lightheartedness, “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Guys!” you wail, “Please!”

Senshi sighs through his nose, murmuring about kids bickering as he polishes the knife you only see used for cooking.

Tense silence descends upon your group once again.

Turning to the blonde at your side, you murmur, “I’m more worried about how to keep from getting bored. I feel like boredom is when everyone starts hating each other…”

Laios straightens up at your concern, twisting noisily through his personal bag to drag out a leather bound journal, “I could show you my notes about monsters! They’re pretty long so it’ll take awhile, perfect way to kill time while Chil’ gets us out!”

Nodding, you lean into his side, watching intently as he recites each tidbit and offbeat scribble as if by heart. You notice that none of the writing is as softened by print or recognizable as what’s scrawled in his guide on edible monsters. You don’t think this book has been exposed to the party yet, and that thought is patently delightful. That you are so dependable to Laios he’s willing to show off something born from his raw passion.

“It was something I teased when I was by myself,” he confesses, cheeks glowing rosy at the vulnerability of it all, “When I started wondering about the integrity of the Gourmet Guide, it inspired me to make a real guide. So, even though I’m sad the author probably never ate the monsters they wrote about, I can still honor the passion it gave me.”

“Wow,” you turn onto your hip and cradle his arm against yours. Perhaps overly casually, you sling a leg over one of his and rest your head against his shoulder, his chill shirt icing the heat on your own cheek (his simmering skin beneath quickly reheats it), “You’re really cool, Laios.”

Marcille’s side-eye goes unacknowledged when you say that.

“Seriously?” you’re easily distracted from everyone else when Laios is grinning so brightly at you, “You think so?”

“Mhm!”

“You’re really cool, too,” he wishes he could say more, but your pretty face so close to his is strangling his bravery.

That night, you have the strangest dream.

…

A lion of gold fur and pearly wings looms over you, globs of His drool hanging and dribbling onto your forehead. Temptation to reach up and comb your fingers through His mane rushes through you -- but you cannot move. Limbs bogged by a weight unseen, and then there is a dog.

Big black eyes pour down on you, front paws plastered at each side of your waist to hold himself up. Pointed teeth peek through its panting snout -- bloodthirsty growls verberating low through its body. You blink and the dog is different. Yipping like a friend, tail wagging at the sight of you, it licks your cheek. You blink and the dog is gone, replaced with a fellow tall-man. Armor removed and shirt hanging low, you can make out his collarbones and the dip down towards his chest -- if you dare to stare straight down then you could make out the handles of his hips.

Blood stains the seams between his teeth, chin glistening with crimson gush. Faintly, you can make out the sensation of lips puckered around your fingers; sucking and nibbling at your nail beds. Chilchuck, Marcille, Senshi. They all seem so at ease, faces completely lax similar to those of nursing kittens.

Laios’ lips press into your neck, hot and cold clashing when he introduces teeth. You can’t even feel the pain as he digs in -- instead, you feel just as calm as your friends look.

You feel serene.

Marcille snaps a finger bone like it's a carrot between her molars. Chilchuck and Senshi lave the spilling blood from her cheeks. They can’t get enough of you. Laios burrows his arms beneath your waist, pressing your body closer into his as he desperately tongues your flesh down his throat.

Hungrily and contently, they swallow you down. Every morsel.

You feel most loved.

…

You woke up feeling grateful.

Chilchuck has not yet gotten your party free. As the day progresses, you feel that gratitude leaking over the floor. It curdles in the open air and soaks into the bottom of Marcille and Laios’ shoes as they ask you to unlock your food pouch.

Cheerful, expectant faces haunt you from above. Marcille, of course, has nothing but patience for you, but the killer is Laios. Obviously. Laios, who so, so fervently and imperatively trusts you so, so wholeheartedly is your biggest problem in this fiasco. He always looks at you like you could never do anything wrong, and you’ve never hated it until now.

Wide, twinkly amber eyes drill into you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had to dig into the rations, I don’t even remember what’s all in there.”

Marcille nods in agreement, excitement at the prospect of eating obvious in the drool pooling in the corners of her mouth, “Right? It’ll be nice to have something non-monster related, at least.”

“You think so?” Laios pouts, “I thought you were warming up to eating monsters.”

“It's still not my first choice!”

In the midst of their spat, your attention is split between trying to conjure a plausible reason to deny them; and manifesting a destiny where they forgot why they approached you.

By the time Marcille’s tummy croaks through the cramped room, neither has come to fruition. She cups the pouch of her stomach, embarrassed at its echoing rumble.

“Jeez, thought I was hungry…” Chilchuck teases from his post at the door.

“Hey! That was a totally reasonable sound for how long it's been since we ate. And who’s to say that was even me? It could’ve been Laios!”

“It wasn’t,” Senshi adds.

“Definitely wasn’t,” Chilchuck’s sly grin cracks upon the sound of his own gut joining the conversation.

“Ha!” Marcille’s joy is usually able to cleanse your dreary moods, but usually you’re not keeping such a destructive secret.

Usually, you don’t freeze yourself in place like it’ll prevent your party from noticing you’re still alive -- all to avoid them asking the same question from minutes ago,

“So, can you open up the food pack?”

You are not so lucky.

Laios has asked you again.

Rare is it for you to refuse him, because rarer it is for him to ask something outrageous or impossible (or impossibly outrageous) of you. This is the one in a billion chance that you must turn him down. But how can you when he’s looking at you so kindly?

A frazzled, puny No trapped in the back of your desiccate throat when suddenly Senshi says it for you.

“Best to save our rations so we can eat right before we leave.”

Senshi’s trust in you makes you somehow more nauseous. Marcille’s downtrodden agreement makes that stacked nausea triple. Laios curling up beside you to keep you company makes you so electrified you’re certain to be hiccuping bile soon.

(you don’t end up puking, thankfully)

That night, you dreamt of the time you and Laios met.

…

He’s really beautiful, it's the first thing you notice about him. Too beautiful to be a dungeon crawler, Laios’ face is more befitting of royalty. To be praised and swooned over and kissed.

“It’ll be less pay than, well, our swordsman or mage.”

You think his thoughtfulness makes him more beautiful.

Strangely, you feel the need to comfort him. Overcompensate the mediocrity of such a position simply so he doesn’t feel guilty hiring you (because in the back of your head is the fear that if he feels guilty, he simply won’t take you on).

“That’s fine! I don’t mind at all, as long as I get any money I couldn’t care less.”

You just want a house. You just don’t want to suffer.

“Alright, then, looks like we have a carrier,” Laios looked to Falin, the girl nodding with a cheery smile.

You just want to be as close to the beautiful, shining, gnashing sun as possible.

…

You woke up feeling thirsty.

You’d twisted over to dig out your watersack when you found that your entire pack was missing. Ice spilled across your entire body at the sight, a swelling, obnoxious anxiety aching through your nervous system. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and you could hear the blood pumping through your ears.

Slowly, your head swivels around the room, until you find your pack in the arms of another -- who is now settled across the room rather than beside you.

Peculiarly close to Senshi’s pseudo-camp, Marcille is scratching your bag tightly to her chest.

“Marci,” you call, dredging the boys’ curiosity towards you. You don’t know if she’s taken the liberty of looking inside, “Give that back…”

She does not, merely hugging the leather tighter. Such desperation clues you that she’s most likely just as oblivious about the bag’s contents as everyone else is. Her stomach rumbles loudly, you swallow dryly and wet your lips to beg.

“Marci, please!”

The elf hisses back, not unlike a pestered kitty, and clutches your pack tighter to her chest. She glares through her lashes, kicking her legs out when Laios reaches to take your bag back.

Senshi shakes his head and rises from his own spot in the corner. Marcille’s gaze hones in on the dwarf instantly, and she whirls around to face the wall -- now caging your bag to her chest.

“Marci,” you retry weakly, “please, hoarding isn’t- !”

She silences you with another shortburst glare over her shoulder, “Who said I was hoarding?” she ‘hmph’s and shakes her head, “How do I know you won’t just eat it all as soon as I’m not looking?! Huh?! You’ve gone the longest without food after all!”

You gasp at the accusation, then sparing a glance up at Laios to see if he’s buying her tale, “How could you say that? I always share! It’s everyone’s food!”

“Marcille,” Senshi commands cooly, standing at your side, “you should know that isn’t like her. We all share our food so nobody goes hungry. To intentionally starve others is just cruel.”

“Exactly!” you plea, shakily reaching out only to yank your hands back to your chest when she snaps at your fingers with full teeth, “Just give it back, please?!”

Laios frowns, visibly uncertain how to bring you and Marcille back to the giddy lounging gals you were mere days ago, “Marcille, you two are friends -- if you know she’s never stolen before, why would she start now?”

Marcille sharply redirects her stare into the corner, shrugging and clutching the pouch tighter.

Chilchuck bangs his forehead into the door, “Children.”

“Marcille…” you whimper, hot in the face and barely believing you’re even telling the truth right now. You’re delirious with dehydration and hunger and skepticism that you’re being honest, making it hard to see straight. Elf and tall-man faces blur together, Senshi is blotted out by the black dots in the corners of your vision, and Chilchuck is a mere speck. Far, far away. You feel far, far away. Like you could die, like you’re dreaming, and oh as the words come out of your mouth you’re actually hoping that you are dreaming, “it’s empty.”

Every head snaps to you. All dizziness snaps into hyperawareness. At minimum it's two degrees colder than it used to be, you can hear the sound of your own breathing, and the smell of mold rots away every other scent in the room.

You shrink into yourself and barely scrounge the courage to keep from curling into a rocking ball of apologies. Your disbelief doubles when you realize you’re still looking Marcille in the face -- eye to devastated eye.

“It’s empty?”

“It’s empty…”

Senshi steps back from your side, you want to dig your nails into his ankles and drag him back. You don’t. Laios retreats as well and you selfishly wish he’d just pierce you with his sword, if only to end this humiliation and regret. Now that everyone’s staring at you, you realize you probably should’ve said something from the start.

“I thought maybe Chilchuck would’ve gotten us out by now… I didn’t think we’d still be here…” you try to reason.

The harsh clatter and clang of Chilchuck’s picks against the ground draws your attention, he’s got both hands knotted into fists. His face drawn in a slant, as if he’s silently asking you to repeat yourself. As if he didn’t quite catch that.

“Then it's my fault?” he swiftly dodges the arm Senshi puts out as a blockade, now in your face and far more threatening than usual, “You’re saying it’s my fault your pack is empty?”

“No! Just- !”

“So why even mention that?!” he huffs, “Why even say my name?”

“I just thought that once we were out we’d find more food and then it wouldn’t be a problem!”

“So you still wanted to lie to us?”

“I never said that! You’re putting words in my mouth! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“Your plan was to intentionally hide the truth -- that’s lying!”

“No! It’s just hiding!”

Chilchuck screams, raw with frustration and unbridled by cumbersome words. He covers his face with both hands as if he’s in pain just to look upon you.

“I’m sorry!” you plea, now turning to Laios with weak sobs bubbling right beneath your skin. Your face feels as though it's been scorched with dragon’s fire, though your eyes are flooded wet, “I just didn’t want everyone to be scared. I would’ve told you once we were out! Promise!”

Laios always liked being close to you the best, including Falin. In the wake of her disappearance, his inclination towards your presence has only magnified. You engage his interest in monsters, you’re forward and blatant with your compassion, and your skin on his is always so soothing. Laios doesn’t guess if you’re genuine, he knows you are. He imagines that’s why when you touch him it’s so warm and calming whereas others’ makes him itch.

Your soul itself must be as sweet as the bottom innard of an ivy tentacle.

“I know,” Laios nods, smiling thinly, “I know you would’ve.”

If you say you thought it was for the best, then you really must have, and he can’t berate you for having a heart.

You return his grin threefold, overtly thrilled he’s believed in you, yet again.

“You’re kidding!” Chilchuck shouts, now tugging sharply at his hair in frustration, his face red, “Laios, how can you let her get away with this?!”

Marcille shoves your pack into your face, standing over your toppled form. She looks like she hates you.

Now you’re the one cradling a food-barren bag to your chest. Laios assists you to your feet, prying your bag from your arms with gentle fingers to settle it along the wall. It sags, giving way to its empty stomach and collapsing over itself, folding into halves.

Marcille inhales deeply, mouth popping open to speak, but it's your resident half-foot’s voice that cuts through the air.

“Why are you here?” Chilchuck grumbles, glaring up at you.

His sudden venom stuns you into silence. Chilchuck’s face round with a specifically unfamiliar malice. Through his wired irritation at mimics and tentacles, he has never looked so particularly irked. So vexed. He looks like he detests your very face.

“I need money…” you murmur, curling into yourself the longer his terrible stare goes, “Just like you…”

“No. You’re not just like me, we’re not alike,” he’s unnecessarily defensive at your claim, “I’m useful. I work. You don’t do anything. Why are you here?” he lowers his voice, but you can’t mistake the change for any sense of relief, “There’s lots of things you could do for money.”

“Chilchuck!” Marcille wails, eyes wide -- snapped from their previous disdain and now fraught with shock and dread, her hands hover at her chest as if she could physically slice, rearrange, and mend the tension, “Don’t say that!”

“Be nice,” you wring your hands, “Be nice to me,” you frown, “I didn’t want to work a hard job, and being a carrier pays well enough. Then, uh, then I thought maybe I could be useful if I died… I could be like a meat shield, and then when I die you could eat me. You know, if you ever got stuck down here… like now.”

Chilchuck guffaws, jaw dropping and brows furrowing in distraught, “Eat you?! You thought we would eat you?!”

“I wouldn’t be offended,” shrugging, you crane your head down before subtly ticking sideways towards Laios, “You’ve never eaten human, right? I’m sure it’d be interesting.”

“How could you say that?!” Marcille buds in, once again on the offense. Senshi lingers in the back of your party, beneath the shaded hood of his helmet his gaze is steely. Determinately opposed to your very ideals. He’s eerily quiet, as if complying with Chilchuck and Marcille’s side will mistakenly motivate your own. That, or he’s so horrified none of his nerve endings will respond to his brain.

Laios does not refute your claim.

He swallows roughly, eyes darting to the floor.

“Everyone,” still staring at the ground, Laios steps between your group’s semi-circle, “Enough fighting,” his voice is quiet, too, but not calm. Ragged and soft, exasperated, “Please, stop fighting.”

A sturdy markdown of your offer never escapes his lips, though.

You nod slowly, “I’m sorry for being so useless. I thought I was doing something good…”

“You do,” Laios takes you by the shoulder, spinning you the other way towards your lone mat. His voice grows quieter, by the echo you can tell he’s talking to the others now, “Don’t antagonize her.”

Your sleeping bag is cold, it ruffles stiffly everytime you move. The fluffed material beneath your head fares no better, frost biting your cheek and lapping your splayed, exposed eyeballs. Tears prick as both eyes crisp dry -- cooled droplets dripping across your cheeks. Sorrow mixes with the salt, you thought you were doing good.

Perhaps by volunteering yourself to be used to the very last shred of meat, you could be more treasured. Cowardice outweighed by willingly absorbing the worst of your party’s instincts. By this method, you are more desired.

So you thought, but you’ve been rejected.

Squealing with protest, your sleeping bag retches around shivery shoulders as you smush your quivering lips into the material of your mat.

“These past couple of days have been hard on you, huh?” Laios unrolls his own sleeping bag beside yours. You flinch at the unwelcomed rumble of his voice, unfortunately he continues, “I get it. Everyone’s on-edge,” his comforting words fail to reach you, he slips into his bag, staring at you, “I hope you’re not sleeping yet… That’d make this kind of pointless…”

“Laios.”

“There you are,” he sighs, relieved, and you cannot imagine why. You don’t think there’s anything to be relieved about as long as you’re around, sucking up space and precious resources.

“Laios,” you call, “We should just do it. Right here.”

“Huh?”

You twist your head to peek over your shoulder, chilled tears drying tracks into your cheeks, confirming each of your friends is tucked and slumbering on the other side of the room. Surely, none of them would hear so long as you didn’t fight back; and you’re certain you won’t. Laios isn’t the type to make you suffer. He knows you hate suffering. He isn’t sadistic, after all, the only pleasure he takes in killing is the follow-up: eating.

“You want to, right?” you usually wouldn’t be so daring as to make the suggestion on your own, but food supply has dwindled too drastically by now. Everyone else can maintain their delusion all they want, but you know Laios is not one to deny himself, “Laios, you want to?”

He inhales sharply, molten amber eyes blazing through your face -- faint candlelight shines against his irises and bounces back the lump of your silhouette. Stubbornly, he says nothing -- neither nodding or shaking his head. Instead, he lies still, as if bitten by a Cockatrice.

“We can do it right now. They’re all asleep.”

Laios sneaks a hand through the neckhole of his sleeping bag, arm slithering out to soothe the pad of his thumb over your cheek. Silently, he appreciates the roundness of your face, the slope of your neck.

He does want to sink his teeth in, but this feels stranger than consuming monsters. It stretches far past the walking mushrooms or slimes on the top level; the problematic nature of your proposal even surpasses Chilchuck’s humanoid debate. You’re not a mere humanoid -- you’re human. Another tall-man. Your muscle composition is just the same as his -- your skeletons indecipherable from one another.

It shouldn’t be difficult to decide, Laios knows that much. He shouldn’t have to think about it. He shouldn’t shut down every time you mention it.

Despite that, he does -- he considers how the flesh of another tall-man would roll between his molars. Would the meat be salty? Or savory? How much fat should he trim -- or should he boil it all down just to save?

But aside from that, the reason he wants to mark your neck is not those taboo urges. Completely unrelated, in fact.

Laios’ fingers trail from your pulse point, curving along your exposed shoulder and dipping beneath your bag to dig blunt nails into your arm.

“No,” he squeezes your shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture, “Not you,” his hand retracts, coiling back to his chest, “I don’t want to eat you.”

“We’ll all die…” you frown, eyes of an iridescent sunshine sheen maintain their hold on you, “It’s better for one to go rather than the rest of the party, right? I can be useful like that…”

“I don’t want to eat you.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” his eyes flutter shut, brows pinching towards the middle of his face. And he cares not for what that may say about him as a leader. He’d giddily offer up the entire party to be found by corpse retrievers before gobbling you down.

“But then why keep me around? I don’t do anything special like Chilchuck or Marcille. I can’t cook or fight like Senshi. And I’m nothing like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” he tucks his chin by his chest, still avoiding your stare, “I prefer you as you. I’m glad we know each other, I don’t care if you feel useless because you’re not. Just having you around makes me feel more alive. More excited to explore the dungeon, even before Falin got taken. I feel like I need you around more than before. Since Shuro said he hated me… I guess it’s been tougher to trust that I’m not annoying everyone. With you, though, I don’t even have to question it. Outside the dungeon, too, when we’re in town. It’s nice to be around you the most.”

His eyes are clenched tighter and tighter the longer his spiel goes on -- he cannot bear to look you in the eyes while guts and bile spew from his lips. His cheeks are red, raw from self-imposed exposure.

“Do you mean that?” you ask quietly, eyes so wide in shock he’s forced to meet them as he opens his own, “Am I useful to you, just because I’m me?”

He hums, nodding softly. Crude emotion overwhelms you at the admission; confusion and disbelief and desire tangle in your stomach, loose tendrils flapping up into your gullet and knotting around your uvula until you spit up a meek,

“Can I sleep with you?” as if he would refuse you, you tack on, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Wordlessly, Laios unzips his sleeping bag -- you crawl out from your own to invade his space. His body is soft yet firm against your back, and he makes a clear effort in keeping his breaths shallow. You can see the worsening red tint of his cheeks, even in the wavering candlelight.

Laios’ body goes limp once you’re settled beside him. Selfishly, you press into his lax form -- exhaustion and hunger making your head light. You’re not concretely sure you’re conscious right now. Maybe this is your final dream before you are culled by starvation.

Your stomach grumbles, and Laios pouts at the sound. Bringing one hand over his own abdomen, Laios edges his fingers around his ribcage. He can feel the bone’s impression. He hasn’t been able to feel the protrusion since splitting from the traveling caravan with Falin. He’s unaccustomed to starving himself, he’s unsure how much longer he can hold himself together. You, however, pay no mind to the sound.

You don’t so much as crimp into yourself.

“It’s kinda weird,” you muse suddenly, turning in Laios’ bag so your chest is pressed to his. Oddly, for all its intimate implications, the contact feels natural, “I hate suffering more than anything else, but I can’t bring myself to regret giving you my breakfast a couple days ago. Even though the suffering that nasty junk gave me was a lot better than how I feel right now.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Laios’ arms wrap around you, tucking you even closer to him and forcing your legs to mingle with his, “Eating is the best thing you could do for your body.”

“I’m happier you got to eat than I would’ve been after eating it. Besides,” you cant your head up, chin digging into the center of his thick chest -- looking up at Laios, “I prefer sleeping to nourish my body.”

“As soon as we’re out, you’ll have the most delicious meal we can make in the dungeon.”

He hugs you tighter.

You don’t dream that night. But Laios does.

pt 2 - rabbit eat dog

Laios’ cheeks sting in the frosty air, forearms and knees stubbornly tingling through the puffer of his red long-sleeve. Attempting to make out the space even five inches before his face is impossible through the thick, icy fog, but he knows the way. His feet pivot in perfect tune to each divot and roll of the plains.

He’s grown up here. Ran over these lands since he could lift one leg over the other, though now he is alone. Wandering with only the intent to find, and even then he is alone. Laios never feels more alone than when he is in a room full of people, at least in solitude he cannot be ridiculed or judged. Cowardly as it may seem to run from his problems, Laios chases relief -- where exactly that is, he’s unsure. His relief comes in forms that move, much more inconvenient than ale or tobacco but also much more divine. Moving sister, moving moon, moving monsters.

A cursory, confirming glance up gives sight to the real moon hanging above Laios -- a pale face beaming down to give light, only to be choked out by this unabating fog. Fond for night, Laios feels eased by the celestial. Nighttime, childishly, is something he’s always associated with terrible creatures in the bowls of dungeons. Besides that, is how quiet the house becomes past sundown, when the only conscious soul is his. Sometimes his sister stood up with him, too, and that was nice.

Nice, still, is the other moon’s presence. One less large and pale. One that walked at his side.

A soft glow scourges through the plumes of gray, encouraging Laios to quicken his pace. Warmth blooms across his frosted extremities, thawing stiff joints until suddenly he’s too hot beneath his puffer. Stripping the material, he’s left to sweat in a simple pullover shirt as he begins stumbling towards the glow.

Fog clears, drifting apart seamlessly.

Laios trips abruptly, seemingly over his own footing, before tumbling to his knees, hands scraping on hidden rocks and dirt clots. His eyes water from the intense sear of light painting the ground.

“Hey.”

Laios, against better intuition, feels a bizarre sense of calm wash over him at the voice’s intrusion. Perhaps specifically because of whose voice calls to him.

You loom over his huddled frame, just as bright and welcoming as the moon, and just as pretty too. Prettier, he corrects.

“Hi,” he returns your greeting lamely, rising slowly to a stand.

“You look hungry.”

Recently, Laios has discovered that even after a hearty meal his appetite is not quite satiated. During the brief moments where his mind can wander, he spends it contemplating what he could be eating in that moment. Well, that when he’s not thinking about you. While his stomach is not a bottomless pit ever unfilled, more often than not he’s adopting the attitude of well, i could eat. Not quite greed, not quite temperance. He’ll take what is offered and be gracious.

So, yes, in short, Laios supposes he is always hungry. Admitting that to you is particularly embarrassing, however, because you never seem hungry. Even when your stomach sings with starvation, your discomfort is completely invisible.

He used to assume it was your resilience -- a sign of your courage, to continue adventuring regardless of your terror.

(now, he’s starting to think differently, with your fresh disposition of raw nerves and desperation to be enjoyed)

“You’re hungrier, right?”

“Not really.”

“Oh…” he’s unsure how to respond. Trapped to stare at you while you stare back.

These parts of the fields are entirely unfamiliar to Laios.

“You should be hungry,” he tries to reason.

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Just a feeling, really.”

“What should I eat?” you frown, inching closer.

“Whatever you want,” he answers honestly. Laios believes in free will, but in some strange, completely unintelligible way, he thinks you deserve the most free will. He thinks you should do whatever you want, whenever you want, and he’s left confused how you don’t feel the same.

(feasibly in light of the night’s cannibal-themed fight) You suddenly suggest, “What about you?”

Laios freezes at that, all fire radiating from you icing over in an instant. Gaze sinking to his feet. Could he realistically agree to that? End his life to feed you? Does his devotion stretch so far?

Laios would hate to (permanently) die… but he would hate more for you to (permanently) die before him.

He dodges your question with one of his own, “Would you still like me if I was a monster?”

When he’s feeling distinctly indulgent, Laios flashes into long past fantasies of becoming a tri-headed beast.

And if he were to become one, would you gaze upon him just as kindly? Would Laios still be Laios to you?

His eyes follow each twinge in your face as you think, brows scrunching and bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Eventually you nod, slow and measured, “Yes. I would.”

Laios believes that, honestly. You would have to. You’re just that amazing. So, he should be amazing in equal measure -- or more, he should aim to impress you with his greatness.

So, yes. If you really wanted to. He could feed you with himself.

…

You wake up feeling unrefreshed.

Senshi, Marcille, and Chilchuck continue to bar themselves across the room from you. Laios freely travels from one end to the other despite your party’s annoyance with him. Grumbling stomachs echo from each person in the group now, and you wonder if maybe you should circumvent Laios’ rejection to feed your friends anyway. To make up for your various mistakes and blunders. It's only right.

You stare at Chilchuck’s back -- his arms no longer flailing with movement, hands instead paused around the box lock itself. He’s glaring at the mechanism, you think he’s hoping nobody notices his lack of effort. Marcille and Senshi are murmuring amongst themselves, casting wry glances your way every other sentence. Perhaps they’re discussing potential ways to make you suffer when they finally gut you.

You wouldn’t fight back, you know you wouldn’t. For the good of the pack’s survival, you’ll let them feast upon you.

(it does not once cross your mind that they could be talking about how to best convince you you’re wrong for writing your own consumption off so easily)

Laios sits at your back. Not moving. Not touching. Watching.

Your eyes drift from Chilchuck’s petrified frame to the floor, then to one cobbled block slightly lower than the others. About an inch below level, but not sunken in completely: the stone Senshi stepped on.

“Senshi?” you call.

No response.

“Hey, Senshi?”

He’s staring at you, but his eyes are hard to make out beneath his helmet. You shift upon your knees despite Laios’ soft bleat of disapproval. Marcille now stares as well, eyes much easier to spot when they’re wide with worry.

“I think this stone is…” you shove the step with your meager might and it budges a mere centimeter.

Laios’ hand overlaps yours, pushing down as well. The stone thuds loudly, and Chilchuck suddenly jumps back as the spears clink and shoot into the holed ground. He rockets back up to fuddle the lock, this time it clicks and pops open first try.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Chilchuck kicks up at the retreating bars in vain. He whirls around to see you and Laios hunched over the stone and sighs, silently passing you both to collect his bags and exit.

Senshi and Marcille follow example.

Laios unlatches from your back, and you miss his warmth more immediately than you thought you would.

“I think I should leave the party.”

“Why?” he frowns so genuinely, you’d be unable to buy his cluelessness if you hadn’t known him for so long.

“They don’t like me anymore,” you settle both hands in your lap, plucking at the skin around your nails, “They know I’m useless.”

“So?” his tone is soft, so opposite to his callous start, “I want you here more than anybody. I’m happy to have people I trust and who are good at their work, but I think if you didn’t come with us back into the dungeon, it’d be another thing I’m always thinking of instead of what’s in front of me. And nobody gets my fascination with monsters like you do.”

“Senshi does…”

“I like you more than I like Senshi.”

“Why?”

Laios opens his mouth, teeth white and glistening in the soft flicker glow of dancing orange candle flame. You await his bite. He closes his mouth. You wish you were so confident to pry it wide and press yourself into his cheeks. You wish he’d just eat you whole. Spare no mind to how the others thought of it. If they won’t accept you bones and all, then you’ll continue to long for Laios. You can do that easily. You’ve been an expert in the matter since you joined his group.

“Nobody else will take me, Laios,” you greedily grasp him by the shoulder, “I’m being so selfish, but I need you to- !”

He slaps your hand away, reaching over your offending hands to snag you by your own shoulders, “I don’t want to hear that, you shouldn’t talk like that! You deserve to live, and eat, just like everyone else! We’re friends as much as we are party members, right? They wouldn’t stick around if they weren’t. Your friends wouldn’t want you to be eaten either.”

You glance at the archway, none of the three others are visible, “Is that why they were mad?”

“I can’t speak for them, but you should be up front about how you feel. Talk to them before leaving,” he lowers his head, “If you’re planning to leave still, anyway. Though, I really hope you stay.”

Laios is too afraid to say he’ll beg, if it would enrich the offer. The mere idea of your face twisting angrily or an annoyed rejection slipping past your lips kills him. With both you and Falin gone, Laios would feel a sense of estrangement he hasn’t since his army days. Loneliness amplifying until it's unable to be ignored. The grief and confusion of your loss would muddy the remaining friendly faces in his party -- the taste of monsters would even be dulled. Humiliation would rattle his sense of self everytime he remembered that you’re not even dead, just drifted away.

He’d never survive without you, but he refuses to steal your entire life that mercilessly so he pretends he could.

“If we all just talk to each other, then nobody has to get hurt,” Laios’ hands lower to yours, he squeezes gently while avoiding your eyes, choosing to study the way you lean into his touch, “I don’t want you to go. And I don’t want them to be hurt.”

“Okay,” you rise onto unsteady feet.

Laios separates from you to begin stowing away both your belongings while you squirm into the hallway in front of your party. They shuffle awkwardly, with only Senshi capable of meeting your eyes. Yet he stands the furthest from you.

“I- “ the words dance over your tongue, you thought you were prepared to say them. You’ll leave. You’ll leave. You’ll leave. But you can’t. The words trip and fall and tumble back into your throat before you surrender, “I don’t want to leave the party, but I am sorry for lying. I know I don’t do much, but I love adventuring with everyone. Really, I only- !”

“We were stressed,” Marcille steps forward, releasing one hand from Ambrosia to lay on your hand, “I don’t think it’d be easy on anyone to say the leftovers were actually gone. Especially when you knew that’s what we were relying on to not starve.”

Senshi nods slowly, “We weren’t expectin’ you to run off as apology. You’re young, you make mistakes.”

Marcille elbows your party’s half-foot.

Chilchuck sighs, shaking his hands out at his sides in the way your father used to, “I’m sorry. For calling you useless. I get why you lied, I probably would’ve done the same thing in your position to keep the party from freaking out. But, please,” his usually (deceptively) friendly and pleasant face has morphed into one of weary, a grown man concerned for a child, “Never say anything like that again. We don’t want you dead, let alone to eat your body. You have to plan to stay alive with everyone else, otherwise what’s the point of even joining the party?”

“Right. Sorry,” you blurt, increasingly ashamed of your suggestion earlier.

Their rejection stems not from disgust, then, but love.

They don’t want to eat you because to them you shouldn’t even die.

What a strange conclusion to now be forced to draw. You’re not sure how to swallow it, every time you try it rushes back up. Your friends’ concerned faces give you the determination to keep trying, though.

Laios barrels through the doorway -- redressed in his armor with the remaining bags slung over his shoulders, grinning broadly, “Looks like we can start walking again.”

Much to everyone’s chagrin, the trek towards the next floor begins on an empty stomach. When you reach up for the packs you usually carry, Laios jerks them from your grasp, you whine quietly, “Hey, that’s my job!”

“I know,” he shrugs the bags around his broad frame to fit them more comfortably, “but you haven’t eaten longer than me, and you didn’t sleep very well last night. So let me.”

His strides quicken until he’s by Senshi, you watch him point towards you and Senshi hums thoughtfully.

Your stomach rolls with hunger, and the sting makes you reach out for Laios. You slip your arms around one of his and cradle his elbow into your gut, reducing the ache with a different digging sensation. Laios leans towards you to make the work easier, all while continuing his conversation with Senshi about what the most delicious dungeon meal they could make you would be.

~~~

i like relationships where they dont understand each other but want to try anyway :3

i also love writing readers that are insane and fundamentally insufferable, but still loved

[lostpiewrites]

Bofurin Boys as Bfs (pt.2) 💫

Ft : Mitsuki Kiryu , Kaji Ren , Umemiya Hajime

a/n: this is the part 2. if you want to read , the part 1 is here. it has some slight manga spoilers of the latest chapters. But i hope you enjoyy... (art credit for : _sakuraharuka._ on insta).

Mitsuki Kiryu

This man is the perfect bestie bf. He knows what to wear. So you as his gf go to him more than you go to your girl besties. He dresses you like a runway model without even trying because he himself dresses like that too. Goes out for shopping with you , picks clothing to you according to your taste and body shape and gives you detailed opinions on what to combine together. Wears matching outfits with you but in a subtle way , like matching colors or designs etc. (Mans is bf goals confirmed)

He has long hair and a baby face so he KNOWS about bodycare. With him your skin is glowing and your hair is more voluminous , more beautiful and longer than it has ever been. He tries out face masks or beauty products and does skincare with you as a date. If you ever want to go into a spa or just a simple waxing/laser session , he comes with you without further questions.

He has lots of piercings. So if you ever were to get one, he knows where does it hurt , how to keep it clean without getting infected etc. Would pick your earrings and jewelry for you. Would even get you to a professional skin type test to find out if you are a gold girl or a silver girl.

He has an older sister so he knows about female body. Not only about periods but monthly phases too and helps you through them emotionally. But would tease you when you get touchy with him more than normal and say sth like "sbd is ovulating i see ? 😏"

Would have matching phonecases with you. 100% , without a single doubt.

Would start playing a videogame/ rp game to bond with you more. and get addicted to it later on

Defends you like a guardian angel if you have a shitty family. Whether its financially or emotionally , he tries to become your safe space so you can build your independence and cut contacts with them later on. (I believe its canon because in the manga we have seen the way he scolds his elder sister)

Kaji Ren

He is a fighter , a monstrous one at that. So if you are dating him , it means that you are already used to it. A coward girl is not meant for him and he respects your bravery. 100% fell in love with you when you saw him lose his temper and instead of running away in fear , you came to him to patch up his wounds and hug him to calm him down.

He always carries his headphones around his neck. If you were to forget yours or they run out of battery , he offers his. Says he can handle people's shit for a few hours. Spoiler : definitely can't , gets overwhelmed too easily but you are worth the try in his opinion.

He also always carries around at least 5 lollipops so if you get upset , crave sth sweet on the go or experience a low blood sugar in a sudden ; he carefully unwraps and gives one to you.

He is always there for you when it matters. He is quiet but his presence speaks volumes when you need him the most. You could yap , cry or complain about anything and he is over there listening to you with his full attention.

He doesn't talk much. He doesn't even hear much , let alone talking. He has music blasting in his ears 24/7 and ripping his eardrums. But when you are around him to ground him back to the Earth , he takes it off and hangs it over his neck. Also he takes it off because he worries if you were to say sth to him but he didn't hear it.

He once said "Things are quiet in my mind when you are around". And that brought tears into your eyes because coming from him , that is the BEST compliment you could ever get.

Makes playlists sent directly from HEAVEN. This man has an immaculate music taste and you can't convince me otherwise. Because come on , who could say that a man who listens music 24/7 to keep himself sane enough doesn't know the best songs out there ? Has a different playlist for every different activity. And gifts you a new one on your birthday.

Not only that but he also has an insane amount of musical background knowledge. Like you are listening to an edit where the music is a masterpiece but the poster decided to be a dck and didn't write it's name on anywhere of the post , he just hears it and goes "x song by y artist , posted by z person on Youtube and the slowed version for edits". Or you can ask him about sth that you deem to be totally unknown , sth like tibetan throat singing , but he recommends a few names right on top of his mind.

I also think it's canon that he listens to ASMR a lot because it calms his mind down and helps him sleep after a long day of fights.

Umemiya Hajime

This man is a respected and loved leader of a school of gang members. So you date him , you have about 300 boys under your command. Especially one that is named Sugishita (lol). They are always at your beck and call because you are like a mom in their eyes. Esp if you cook for them , bring them water/drinks and patch up their wounds. You get out of home alone at midnight safely and happily knowing that you don't have to worry about anything with these guys having your back.

We all know Umemiya LOVES gardening. So if you ever to show a slight interest in it ,he deadass kneels down and proposes right then and there. Also grows vegetables and fruits and proudly presents them to you with a content smile because he wants you to eat healthy. How can you reject him ? You can't.

He cuddles with you on the hammock that he has at the rooftop of his school. Also stargazes with you on cloudless nights at the same exact spot.

Dating with him also made you grow closer with Kotoha , his honored sister. She is a mature, funny and easy-going person , one that you are happy you are friends with. Also she gives you free omelette rices just because she likes seeing Umemiya happy even tho she acts like she doesn't care. That's her way of thanking.

Also after you started dating Umemiya, Hiragi started drinking less pills for his stomach , only because he doesn't have to deal with Umemiya anymore. You are a goddess , an angel in his eyes and he will forever be grateful for you. He comes over and reports everything to you instead of him. You laugh at him avoiding your bf and his shenanigans but happily go over to your bf and give him the deets about the latest fight first years had with KEEL.

[little-glitter-kitten]

I Think The Apple's Rotten Right To The Core Pt 8

Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?

(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)

TW: Pseudo-incest, dub-con, somnophilia, sexting, semi-public sex, possessive Caleb, Obsessed Caleb, Yandere Caleb.

NOTE: Sorry this took so long but after getting sick, my laptop breaking and then getting sick again, I redid the entire chapter to make sure it was worth the wait!

YOUR POV:

You couldn't help the moans that spilled past your lips, feeling his large and calloused hands slide over your ass. You felt almost drunk from the lust overriding any rational thoughts. Your hands bunch up the sheets beside your head as his hands continue to explore and massage.

Catching you off guard, his fingers firmly slide between your ass cheeks and down over your clothed pussy, nearly making your legs give out from under you.

"Oh, you must be pent up if that's all it takes to bring you to your knees." Caleb laughs darkly before doing it again and inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. "Fuck, your wet."

Calebs fingers traced the outline of the panties on your hips before he dug his fingers under, dragging them down your legs and out from under your feet. You couldn't tell where he put them but you felt confident that they were going straight into his pocket.

His hands came back to grip either side of your ass, hiss thumbs tracing the lines of your labia, gently spreading them as he did so. You lust filled brain got the better of you and being so sick of waiting you thrust yourself back.

'SLAP'

A warm pain radiated up the outside of your right thigh. "Patience..." He tsked. "is a valuable lesson that your going to be learning tonight."

"Please touch me." You whined before you felt his hand in your hair, pulling you off the bed to stand.

His hard cock ground against the small of your back. "I don't think you have the rights to be making demands here, darling."

He whispered hotly in your ear. "Sure, I could take you right now and I know you'd let me, but where's the punishment in that?"

You tried not to huff in displeasure. You forgot this was a lesson for your attitude earlier and you knew better than anyone else just how stubborn Caleb could be.

Suddenly, you were spun around, picked up and deposited on the bed so fast it made your head spin. He leaned his head down to yours, stopping short of his lips meeting yours. His breath fanned across your lips.

You both sat there frozen, as if both fighting internal conflicts, knowing that once this line was crossed there was no way either one of you were going to be able to come back from it

'But...' You rationalised 'boundaries had already been crossed. What's the harm in adding one more to the list?'

"Caleb, ple..." Your begging was cut off when he pushed his lips against yours. You were pushed down against the bed, his lips never leaving yours as his hands intertwined with yours and pinned them to the bed.

The kiss was not chaste, it was firey, blinding and possessive. Caleb didn't test the waters, instead he plunged his tongue into your mouth, immediately finding your own and twirling it against his. Your breath caught in your throat in the intensity and you had no choice but to give in with a whimper and a moan.

Your legs immediately wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer until he was grinding his clothed cock against your bare pussy.

"Trying to distract me?" He panted, nipping his way down your neck.

"Maybe." Your replied, breathlessly. "Is it working?"

His tongue traced top of your dress along the swell of your breasts. "Unfortunately for you, you're going to have to try harder than that." His hands came up to push the top of your dress under your breasts, a growl leaving his throat at the sight of your erect nipples, begging for his attention.

He wasted no time dipping his head and roughly sucking a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud before he clenched his teeth around it and pulled. You hissed, the stretch of it bordering the line between pleasurable and painful. With a wet smack, your nipple was released, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he stared down at you before turning his attention to your other breast.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets by your head as your arched your back, as if you were trying to push your nipples further into his cruel, warm mouth. Unfortunately, however, you weren't getting friction where you so desperately craved. Caleb, despite being in a seemingly animalistic state, still remained concious enough to keep himself from rubbing into you, giving you what you so desperately craved.

"Please..." You groaned as he once again pulled your nipple between his lips

A wet 'pop' sounded as he released it and gave a small chuckle. "I honestly did not expect you to resort to begging so quickly."

"Please." You say again, almost whining now.

"Did you forget every other word in your vocabulary?" He huffs a laugh, slowly kissing his way down your stomach.

The sound of your heavy breathing and his wet kisses sounded loudly in the quiet room and only served to further your arousal.

As he mouth reached just above your mons pubis, you couldn't help the smile that broke across your face.

Slowly his arms shifted under your thighs to throw your legs over his shoulder.

'Finally!'

You were sorely disappointed, however, when the touch you had been craving never came. Looking down, you saw Caleb staring directly at your most intimate area, his mouth open as he stared in silent reverie. A blush overtook you, making your face heat up and forcing you to close your eyes.

"Caleb, please!" You threw your head back in frustration. "I've been waiting for over twenty minutes, just..."

His sharp scoff cut you off. "I've been waiting over twelve years, pip, so don't you dare talk to me about waiting." Caleb pursed his lips blew a cold rush over your wet labia, teasing you. "Let me savour this moment and consider this part of your punishment."

Slowly, he leaned in. The tip of his tongue gliding from the bottom of one lip to the side of your clit before he repeated the process on the other side.

You bit you lip, well aware that begging wasn't going to get you anywhere.

Caleb looked up, his amethyst eyes boring into yours and as though taking pity on you, the flat of his tongue finally met your entrance before licking upwards. As his tongue reached your clit, you could no longer focus, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your tense body relaxed into the bed.

"Oh my God." You sighed with a smile. "Thank you."

You heard him laugh, his warm breath fanning against your pussy. "I must say, being thanked for this is a first for me." A quick open mouth kiss against your pussy, your lips catching between his as he gave them a small suck. "But I wouldn't be thanking me just yet."

The tip of his tongue darting out to tickle against the opening, flicking quickly back and forth before pushing into the entrance. The bridge of his nose came to rest firmly against your clit, moving slightly with every lap and thrust of his tongue.

While the pace was slow, you could feel that familiar fluttering in the pit of your stomach begin. Abruptly, before you even had the chance to give yourself over to the sensation, he stopped, looking up at you with a smirk.

"What the fuck?" You growl between clenched teeth, shifting yourself up onto you elbows to get a look at the shit-eating grin he wore.

"Something wrong?" He pressed a light kiss to the thigh currently resting on his shoulder as his fingertips traced your hips.

"Y..yes!" You sputter in disbelief of the nerve on this man. "I want to..." You were unable to finish the sentence, your face heating up in embarrassment.

"Want to what?" He gave you thigh a small nip. "Say it."

"I want to fucking come!" You spit, having had enough of his stupid little game.

"Fine." He shrugged. "But you should be careful what you wish for."

Suddenly, the invisible weight of his evol crushed your upper body, pinning your top half to the bed. Any protest you had prepared died on the tip of your tongue as you felt his thumbs spread your pussy and his lips firmly attached directly to your clit.

Your hips would have shot off the bed if it hadn't been for the strong arms pinning you down.

His tongue lashed against the tiny bundle of nerves as he simultaneously sucked. Your thighs clenched involuntarily around his head, the sensation too much to bear.

"Stop..." You pant, holding back squeals. "It's too much."

Your pleas only seemed to spur him on further as he began to moan, the vibrations of it adding to the already overwhelming sensation.

What started off as butterflies had turned into a boiling hot coil, threatening to snap. Unable to hold back, you gave a sob as you felt something inside burst. Your orgasm didn't simply wash over you like any other one you had before, it was ripped out of you.

Your bucking hips suddenly stilled as you felt spurts of liquid shooting from you, running over the globes of your ass. You couldn't move, the sensation was so startling that you had seeminly froze. You both simultaneously wanted to get away and wanted to push yourself further onto his tongue.

Abruptly, Caleb lifted his head, your hips dropping back to the bed in relief of the respite he was giving you.

"Crying already?"

You blinked down at him, confused. As you finally got your mental capacity back, that's when you noticed it. The tell-tale wet tracks on your cheeks that signalled you had been crying.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He chuckled, leaning over you to drag his tongue across your wet cheeks and moaned. "Even your tears are delicious."

Your felt his hand snakes it's way between your bodies, his fingertips dragging across your stomach and to your core. Going to stop his hands with your own from touching the still sensitive area, you realise that he still had your hands pinned with his evol. You scrunched your eyes shut as his fingers found your clit and rubbed. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't even close your legs, his hips firmly slotted between your preventing your legs from closing.

"Shhhh, don't fight it." He crooned, one finger dipping further down to find your entrance. "You asked for this, yeah?"

Shakily, you nod. "It's just sensitive."

"I know, baby, I know." His finger slowly dipping into your wet heat. "But that's what gonna make this feel even better."

Slowly, he began pushing his middle finger back and forth, dipping further into you on each stroke until it was completely inside you.

"Fuck you're tight." He hissed, looking down between your bodies to where he was finger fucking you at a leisurely pace. "But you can take another one, can't you baby?"

You nodded your head vigorously. As good as it felt with his thick finger you just needed a little more.

Immediately, his ring finger joined his middle, pumping steadily in and out of your body.

Lulled into a false sense of security, you had just begun to relax when his thumb suddenly pressed firmly into your clit and his fingers began pumping at an almost punishing pace.

"Ah..."

Your clit still being sensitive and his fingers working quickly over you g-spot had your next orgasm quickly approaching and clamping down on his fingers.

"Stop fightin' it." He groaned, his face pinched as if he were in pain as he keept up his relentless pace. "Let it go."

Following his instructions, you did your best to relax as the wave crashed over you. Your thighs shaking against his hips as you were pulled into that mind numbing state of bliss.

"Caleb!" You said, your voice sounding frantic as you realised he wasn't letting up.

"I know you have more in you." His fingers not stopping or slowing. "Give it to me."

Almost subconsciously, your shaking feet came up to uselessly push at his hips, desperate to get him off you for a moment of reprieve.

Another, even bigger orgasm came barrelling down upon you, making your whole body convulse with its power.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as your body gave in, warm liquid spraying out between the harsh thrusts of his fingers.

"That's it, soak the fucking bed." The loud wet sounds echoed around the room only adding to your intense state of arousal.

Your moans had turns to sobs and then a sigh of relief when you felt him pulls his fingers out of you.

You felt his press a gentle kiss to your cheek before he realised his evol hold on you and lift himself up to sit back on his knees.

You opened your eyes to see him smirking down at you.

"Well, that's was a good warm up, huh?"

You almost choked. "Warm up?"

You watched as he hopped off the bed and began removing his clothes.

"Did you really think I was finished with you?" He snorted, bending to remove his black boxer briefs.

A snarky retort died on your tongue as you watched him stand back up, his thick erect cock now visible. His red tip leaked with pre-cum as he began to fist his cock slowly.

Climbing back on to the bed and hovering over you, you gasped when you felt the slick, hard member come to rest against your stomach.

"Originally, for your punishment, I was just going to work you into a frenzy and then not let you come." He told you non-chalantly as if discussing the weather. "But after you begged so beautifully, I decided to go with a bit of over stimulation instead." He admitted, reaching down to rub the weeping tip against your overworked clit.

You bit your lip.

'He's gonna kill me.' You whimpered internally.

"I hope you're ready."

You nodded your consent.

'He may kill me. But what a way to go' You thought.

Sliding the tip further down, it notched against your entrance. Bit by bit, he pushed further and further in, groaning with every millimetre.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, doing your best to keep still. Soon, the head of his cock breached your entrance, making you gasp.

"It's okay, baby." He said, wrapping his arms under your shoulders to hold you closer. "Just a bit more."

Thrust by thrust, he slowly sunk himself deeper, almost making you jump with every drag of the head over your g-spot.

Once he was buried completely to the hilt, he let out the breath he had been holding. Leaning down his lips tenderly met yours, his tongue gliding softly alongside your own.

Eventually, he pulled away, looking down into your eyes, seemingly searching for any hesitation. Realising there was no trace of hesitation in your face, he pulled your legs up, resting your knees against your chest and gave a quick, deep thrust.

"Oh...fuck." You hissed, screwing your eyes shut.

"Can't take Gēge's cock?" His words dripped with feigned sympathy. "Is it too much already for my little pipsqueak?"

You shook your head, too stubborn to admit just how much a simple thrust had affected you.

"If you say so..." And with that he began pounding brutally. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust and stealing the breath from your lungs.

He was already big, but this angle made him feel impossibly large inside of you. You had to fight the urge to jerk away each time he bottomed out, the feeling blurring the lines between pleasure and pain.

The tip of his cock dragged deliciously over your g-spot eith each thrust, making the feet you had resting on his shoulders twitch violently.

"Didn't think this tight little pussy could handle it." He grunted, his eyes screwed shut tightly. "Takin' it so good for your Gēge."

You could feel the pleasure building, each sweet sting of his deep thrusts sending you careening even further toward the precipice.

"Caleb, I-I'm gonna..."

Quickly, his hand shot between your bodies to rub your clit.

"That's it, baby." He grunted between thrusts. "Take me with you."

With that, you were sent spiralling over the edge. Your thighs shook as your rode wave after wave. Caleb's thrust grew eratic at the feeling of you clamping down so tightly on his cock, his orgasm clearly not far behind your own.

With one, two, three more deep thrusts, he threw his head back, a choked groan escaping his lips as his hips stuttered. You felt his cock twitch and the quick spurts of warm come flood your body before his thrusts slowly died down.

His head fell forward to rest his forhead against yours, a dopey smirk on his face as he panted heavily, fighting for breath.

"Fuck, that was..." you trailed off as you continued panting from your climax.

Caleb let out a soft chuckle. "I agree." Slowly, he dropped your legs from his shoulders and slid his cock from you but continued holding on as if he were afraid to let you go.

As you lie with Caleb beside you, holding each other and basking in the afterglow, you couldn't help but wonder what this would mean for the two of you.

You had no idea what was going to happen next but you knew this was NOT the last time. Both of you were in too deep now for this to be over and as much as it should have worried you, you couldn't help the sly grin that spread across your face.

Tags: @aloverofhotmenrealorfiction @mcdepressed290 @kokonut-nutm @3fluffyfoxyxx @alyyylog

[ms-fade]

hi can i order a part 2 of yandere Uzui's request where the Reader sucks his Nipples.

Eliciting delicious moans from Him, What would be the reaction of his three wives to this?

Nips are nips. Pt.2

Characters: Yandere Tengen, Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru x reader.

This is honestly not reactions but more of a short drabble about it. Hope this is okay💗 Love this story so request more if you want it.

Warnings: Nipple sucking, idk what you call these type of kinks I just like boobs, male type receiving, Clingy actions, slight fighting over the reader, hinted reader likes one of them more.

The thing was that you always stared at their chest no matter who it was and you couldn’t get the thought of them off your pretty little head. Hinatsuru is were you laid your head on mostly to suck on her nipples at any time, like a baby to it’s mother. Then it was suma who couldn’t be happier so you took turns between your wives. Honestly it’s normal them just reading a book while your mouth wraps around them. But you did look at tengens and wondered what it would be like to love his breasts just as much as the girls. You never tested it out before because there was never a chances to ask or it never came up but it was always in the back of your mind.

But today you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of his bare chest with his robe draped down, leaving it almost falling down. “Like what you see?” Of course he noticed you staring at him easily, he was a hashira and it was his job to know his surroundings. You blushed and nodded, he chuckled and then appeared in front of you. His frame towering over you “I see you staring at me so much just like the others,” he took your hands and pushed the fabric aside so you could feel his toned chest. His perky nipple felt sweet underneath your finger tips, “Don’t be shy, darling. You can suck on them~”

The girls came home shortly afterwards from the market with bags filling their hands and they got confused when you and tengen didn’t came to help since you both always did. Their voices filled the house to call your names which got no reply, so they made their way to the bedroom. Until small grunts echoed through the hallway and they knew it was tengen. Makio opened the door angrily thinking you two were having fun without them but she didn’t see what she thought. You laying on tengens chest with you legs wrapped around him and fully clothed. Tengen had his robe off and his head leaned back with his mouth open, his hand in your hair keeping you still in his nipple.

Suma squealed happily and clapped her hands, Hinatsuru was also pleased to see you so comfortable and relaxed. Now, two things can go down with Makio. One; if she haven’t experienced you sucking on her tits then she would be annoyed that she was truly the last one. Second: If she has she wouldn’t really care but find it cute like all the others.

“Didn’t know you’d enjoy it this much.” Hinatsuru said in a low teasing voice and careful to not startle you. Tengen opened his eyes and looked back at the girls faces that held amusement, “Our darling is truly amazing. They have skill but are still tender and soft, can’t imagine what it feels like for all of you.” He looked down and brushed over your head while you just hummed and laid still. “I want in!” Suma rushed over to the bed and grabbed ahold of you.

“Be careful.” Makio shouted and rushed behind her and tugged her away from you. “It’s my turn.” Makio tried to reason. Suma screamed back and tried to undo her clothing but tengen stopped them both. “You both need to quite down loves.” Of course they stopped for a minute. But if Makio didn’t have a turn she would try and rip you away from tengen and persuade you to her breasts instead. Which would leave them all three fighting. Hinatsuru watched with a smile on her face at her loves fight over you, their precious baby.

Because deep down she knew that all she had to do was take off her shirt and you’d be all over her.

[aphelionwrotes11]

Hello people! :)

PT 1

Anakin!spiderman x reader

CW: descriptions of violence, light stalking, slow burn, enemies to lovers, pining, fluff, reader bullies anakin (hes into it), nerd anakin, academic rivals, banter, lemme know if I’m missing anything.

The reason he’s called Anakin parker instead of Skywalker will be revealed later >:D

As per usual ignore any and all spelling and grammar errors. Sorryyyy

WC: 4.7k

Another day in the quiet campus library hitting the books. Not exactly how you had planned on spending your early twenties. In the Ivy League school of your choice, New York City, studying fat old books so that you can excel in yet another midterm, and for what? Anakin Parker. That’s what. Your academic rival and determined thorn in your side.

You and Mary wandered through the seemingly endless shelves of books, fifteen minutes had passed and you still hadn’t managed to find the quantum theory textbook you needed to study. The two of you had gone through the STEM section twice, her fingers grazing the shelf as you studied the titles.

”Any luck?” Mary asks, grimacing as she pulls back her fingers to find them coated in dust. “Ugh, where could this dumb book be, dude? Like.. literally no one comes back here.” She whispers, glaring at the tall shelves.

You sigh, “no clue. It should be somewhere around here.” Your eyes narrow at the shelf in front of you, the library is ordered alphabetically, the book in theory should be right here.

“Guess someone got to it before you.. wonder who that could be.” Mary sighed, rolling her eyes.

You know who she’s referring to. You moved here two years ago and there has only been one guy that’s given you any trouble.

“No. He wouldn’t have. There’s no way he could know there’s gonna be a quantum theory section on professor Harvey’s test.” You whisper to yourself. “The TA told me himself that no one else knows.” You emphasize, Carl had swore up and down that not another soul knew what he had told you.

“Yeaaah, not gonna lie though, who knows how many people he actually told. It’s not like nobody else has a spare twenty to slip him for some test tips, girl.” Mary replied casually. “And if you’re willing to go that far then you know damn well he would be too, he’s like the only one on your level.”

”How would he even know to bribe the TA, Mary? Carl is literally never around for lectures, nobody in Harvey’s class even knows hes got a TA.” You reply, exasperated. Now that you think about it, he was quite quick to snatch that twenty from your fingers. It was too easy to get anything out of him to actually trust his promises of exclusivity.

Mary shrugs, “I dunno, he’s got his ways.” She sighs, “I swear he’s got sixth sense or something.”

”Yeah a sixth sense for how to be an absolute nuisance.” You grumble.

Mary chuckles quietly, turning the corner before coming to a halt. “Well, you’ve got that right.” She says with a smirk, pointing to something.

You furrow your brows, coming up behind her and following her finger to a stack of books, your book included, resting beside none other than Anakin Parker.

“Fuck.” You mumble, rubbing your hand down your face.

“Want me to talk to him?” She smiles.

”no, no, Ive got it.”

”Alright.” She shrugs, “I’ll be over here, lemme know if you need me to put him in his place.” She says with an evil grin.

“Okay psycho.” You giggle as she wanders toward the history section.

The sigh you release is heavy as you walk towards an inevitable headache.

You half expect to surprise him, given how engrossed he seems to be in the material he’s studying, but as if sensing you near he straightens and turns to you with wide eyes.

”Hey.” He says with a cool smile, a halfhearted attempt at nonchalantness.

You frown, “Hi.” Glancing over at his stack of books. “Do you need the whole library or do you think I could borrow one of those?” You say, pointing to his stack.

He looks back, “depends on which one it is.” He smirks boyishly, his lips curling over his teeth. You wonder for a moment if he’s had them whitened.

You give him a sour look. “The quantum theory textbook.”

He raises his brow and pulls the book from the middle, turning it over, “huh, really? Didn’t know you had an interest in quantum theory.” He says with clear faux surprise.

“Yeah, suddenly decided I just can’t live without it. So can you hand it over? I only need it for the hour.” You reply flatly.

He sucks his teeth, “eh.. I dunno. Thanks to you I actually just remembered that I was supposed to be reading this, so I don’t think I can give it up. Maybe some other time.” He grins. And again, your vision zones in on his mouth. His stupid mouth.

You shoot him a glare and he swallows thickly, glancing away as if he’s nervous.

“Listen, I don’t know how, but I know you KNOW there’s going to be a quantum theory part in Harveys test. And I also know that your nerdy ass has probably read that book from cover to cover. So please, do me this one favor.” You grit. Only two hours until Harvey’s exam, you picked the worst time to cram.

He stares at the book in his hands, not daring to look at you. “Well.. this is actually the only one I haven’t read yet.” He gives you a crooked smile.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Really?”

He nods. “Yes, really.” He flattens his lips

you suck in a breath. He’s obviously lying, but you have no idea why. “Well what can we do then? Cuz I need to study and I really don’t have the time for this. Can we just take turns every thirty minutes or something?”

he raises his brows, “That doesn’t sound like it would be very productive.” He glances at you and the chair beside him. “Um… How about we just study together?”

You drop your shoulders, clearly disappointed at his proposition.

he frowns, nearly a pout, “not really any better options at the moment.”

You want to say he could just give you the book and miss a few points for once in his life, if at all, god only knows how much home research hes probably already doing about quantum theory and whatever else.

you sigh, he flinches as you toss your bag on the ground beside him and settle into the open chair.

“Guess not.” You reply.

He shuffles in his seat as if making space for you even though there’s enough distance to keep you comfortable. You glance at him expectantly, his hands still clutching the book to his chest.

You jut your head at the table, “Well? Can we get started?” You sound more impatient than you intended.

“Uh- yeah- well, do you wanna get setup first?” He asks, his brows furrowed and face tight, like hes afraid you’ll blow up at him or something.

You click your tongue, your cheeks twinging pink. “Right, yeah.” You say reaching for your bag. He waits patiently for you to lay out your materials before opening the book to a specific chapter.

“Is this what we’re meant to be studying?” You ask.

“Uh- yeah I think so.” He seems fidgety, you give him a look but don’t bother to ask why.

Time goes by fairly quick after that, the two of you sit side by side writing fervently. He clearly finishes his notes before you but always waits to turn the page. You don’t comment, but you do notice it. A quiet act of helpfulness. He seems to make it a point to press the end of his pencil to certain paragraphs that he deems important. If you weren’t so helpless when it came to this type of science you would ignore his cues to help you, but you decide to put your pride away just this once. And besides, if he notices you taking extra care in writing the notes on what hes pointing out he doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t even make a face, aside from the occasional smile when you lean in to read his notes.

Your phone pings, and that seems to pull the both of you out of whatever state you were in. He looks at you with raised brows and quickly glances down at his watch.

“Shit- uh, its 2:30, we gotta go!” He whispers, jumping up and all but shoving his stuff into his bag with surprising swiftness.

You jump up too, and rather gracelessly begin shoving your things into your bag. He helps a bit, gathers pencils and strewn about papers before passing them to you.

He throws a sideways glance at his stack of books before looking back at his watch.

“No time..” he looks to you, “we’ll have to come back for them.”

”right, okay, lets go!” You reply in a frenzy, herding him towards the door. Professor Harvey’s classroom is across campus. On a normal day it would take you twenty minutes to get there from the library.

Anakin walks ahead of you with haste, glancing back occasionally to see that you're still behind him. By the time the two of you are halfway there, you’re already out of breath and the distance between you and him is growing.

“Damnit, slow down!” You cry, you don’t even know why. It’s not like the two of you have to get there together. Hell, he could already be there by now if he left you behind.

He slows and turns to you, he doesn’t even look tired. “Come on, we’re almost there!”

You groan but his steps don’t falter, you lightly jog up to him, grabbing onto his elbow.

“How are you so fast?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer, but he looks down at where your hand is on him, and his expression is unreadable. You pull away as if you’d been scorched.

“Oh- sorry.” You mumble, struggling to speak and keep up with him.

“No- it’s-“ he cuts himself off, staring at your arm. “Here.”

He reaches for you and loops your arm with his before picking up the pace, you hadn’t even noticed that you two slowed down before. Now, he was practically dragging you.

“What the hell, Anakin!” You panted.

He’s throws you an empathetic smile, giving your arm a small tug. “You got this, we’ll make it.” He looks at his watch and sucks in a breath. “Gotta pick up the pace a bit.”

“Fuck- okay.” You groan.

What a sight it is, the two of you arm in arm jogging across campus. Well, you’re running, hes jogging. You’re too breathless to feel humiliated, you probably look a mess. Hair strewn about, cheeks red, panic etched over your features. By the time you’ve reached the building and Anakin whispers the time being 2:37, you’re hit with enough adrenaline to propel yourself up the two flights of stairs at his side.

You both reach the door with a minute to spare, you’re sucking in air like its drowning you and he looks as fresh as ever.

“Ugh- god.” You whimper, putting a hand to your chest to calm your racing heart, you notice him staring at you in awe.

“What?” You ask breathlessly. He cheeks redden, like hes surprised he got caught.

“Uh- nothing, you alright?” He asks with a worried smile.

“Just peachy.” You reply sarcastically, attempting to fix yourself. You straighten your shirt and move your hair.

“Ready?” You ask him, he’s got a faraway look.

“Uh, yeah.” He pauses, reaching up and hesitating when you furrow your brows at him.

“Sorry- uh- sorry.” He says quietly, reaching up and fixing a piece of your hair.

“Thanks.” You say softly as he nods and pulls open the door for you.

The exam goes relatively well. You notice anakin, more than once, turning to look at you from his spot in the first three rows. You simply catch the movement of his head in your peripherals the first two times, too focused on your exam to bother looking up. But by the third time you look up and raise your brows, he whips around as soon as you catch his gaze.

He finishes his exam first, your eyes follow him as he practically scurries out into the hall. You follow shortly after, giving Harvey a small nod on your way out.

You aren’t sure why you’re so surprised to find him waiting outside, leaning against the wall opposite to the door. He perks up as you walk towards him. He opens his mouth to speak-

”Wow, what am I chopped liver?” A sarcastic voice rings from the right.

The both of you jump, looking to find Mary with her brow raised and arms crossed.

You smile, “I didn’t know you were waiting-“ your smile falters, “Oh my god. I totally forgot you in the library, I’m so sorry.” You cross the distance to her side, giving her a pout as she glares at you. Her expression fades into a grin, “Well, how are you gonna make it up to me?” She asks sweetly.

“Actually, It was my fault. We got caught up in studying and had to get to class-“ Anakin started.

Mary groaned exaggeratedly, rolling her eyes for good measure.

“Fine, how are you gonna make it up to me then?” She snaps.

Anakin pauses, looking between you and her. “Well.. I could take you both out for lunch.” He suggests.

“What, you haven’t had enough time with her yet? Gotta take her out for lunch and make more moves on her?” Mary quizzes, you withhold a laugh.

Anakin flushes red, his brows furrow. “That- I wasn’t-“ he clears his throat, “you said you wanted paid back- and- I haven’t made any..” he pauses, looking away, “moves on her. We were only studying.” He mumbles.

“Oh yeah? How about when you two were skipping arm in arm to class? Surprised you didn’t cream your pants when she grabbed you.” Mary laughs, and you stare at her mortified.

“WHAT!” You cry.

Anakin's mouth gapes open, “I- what-“ he sputters.

Mary doubles over, laughing so hard it looks like it hurts. You can’t help but to laugh along with her, your stomach hurting from the force of your giggle fit. Anakin just stares at the both of you with mild horror.

”Cream my pants?” He whispers to himself. That makes it worse, tears stream down your cheeks, Mary slaps your shoulder as she cackles, the both of you losing balance.

“Oh my god-“ you try to say between cackles.

“Mary- you-“ You wheeze, “Bitch.”

She sucks in a breath and stands straight. “Yeah I’m hungry now, you can get us lunch.” She looks at her phone. “More like early dinner, but whatever.”

You feel a bit bad for Anakin after you’ve recovered from your giggle fit. At this point you’re quite used to their antics. Mary and Anakin went to high school together, their rivalry has always been in good fun and has apparently existed long before you came into the picture. As the three of you walk towards the decided sandwich shop on campus, Mary asks how the exam went and chatters about what she was up to when you forgot she existed. You glance back at Anakin to find he’s already looking at you, you give him a small smile and he gives you one back, his cheeks still twinged red from earlier humiliation.

True to his word, Anakin buys you both early dinner sandwiches, as well as one for himself. You all settle in the corner of the shop by the window.

“Hey, pretty sure you’ve paid me back, you can go now.” Mary says with a shooing motion.

”Yeah, you wish. I’m staying right here.” His usual well meaning sarcasm has finally returned. Your shoulders relax, you hadn’t even noticed they were tense.

“Kay, whatever.” Mary replies. “Hey, I don’t blame you, you wanna hang with the champ. Bet you’re hoping her smarts will rub off on you.” Mary adds, bumping your shoulder with hers. You shake your head and giggle.

”Yeah, I guess so. Doesn’t seem like her smarts have rubbed off on you any.” He quips.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m doing very well in my classes.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises a brow.

“Okay maybe I’m not top of the fuckin score board like the both of you, but I make do.” She growls.

“The both of us can’t be top of the scoreboard.” You comment.

“Well we all know you’re number one, beautiful.” Mary says to you with a saccharine grin.

Anakin scoffs, “we’ll see once the exam scores are posted.” He smirks at you.

And there it is, in just one afternoon you had completely forgotten your own rivalry with him, how could you forget just how much he pisses you off. When you graduated high school, you hadn’t expected to do so well in university. Your own passion shocks you at times. And at the very bottom of your list of things you expected to happen, was to have an academic rival. When you first met Anakin, he was a lot more cocky. You had chalked up his recent kindness towards you as having earned his respect, you’ve held your own in this little competition of skill. But now the stakes have risen, because there’s always a prize, which has become more than just keeping your ego intact.

You frown and shoot him a glare, he shuffles in his seat.

“Right. Guess we will.” You grit.

Mary, noticing the sudden tension, quickly changes the subject.

“Soo. Anakin.. got your eyes on new internships?” She asks with raised brows. You already know why she’s asking, the prize. What you and Anakin are both after. She’s hoping he’s trying for something new.

he sighs, he has the courtesy to look sorry. “No. Still trying for the Oscorp position.”

She sucks in a breath and looks to you quickly. Her nervousness makes you bristle.

“Well. May the smartest one win.” You reply tightly, and he nods.

This competition, whats it all for? The prize? An internship at oscorp working in one of the best labs money could buy. There’s only one opening and its reserved for the highest scorer in this round of exams. The realization that you had spent the day with the one person you’re competing against for something that will change your life makes you shift in your seat. Thats what its always been about. But now that the deadline is so close, it feels a lot more real.

The three of you finish your sandwiches in silence.

“Well, we better head out, don’t wanna miss the bus.” Mary finally says after a few long minutes of tense silence.

Anakin finally meets your gaze, he looks like a kicked puppy. “I can walk you to the bus stop-“ your glare cuts him short.

“No thanks. See you later, Anakin.” You say as you rise from your seat.

Mary and you part ways once she gets off at her stop. You’ve still got another three stops till you’ll be on your block. Plenty of time to overthink your bitterness.

For the life of you, you really can’t decipher why the internship is such a soft spot. Do you really doubt yourself that much? After all this time of the both of you head to head, suddenly you fear you don’t have a winning shot. You fidget with your fingers and glance out the city bus window. Today was a really bad day for your exam nerves to kick in. The first day of midterms, you’ve still got five more to take. All the grades will be posted on the following Monday. Your stomach feels as if its twisting in on itself. Why were you so relaxed today? It’s like you just forgot what the stakes were. Did you pay extra attention to the questions? Did you recheck your answers? Did you really get it all? Your brain whirs as you try to think of any possible slip up you could’ve made.

You’re still reeling from the fact that you were so distracted today as you get off the bus and begin your trek to your apartment. You’re relatively certain you did well on the exam, but you still can’t believe how easy time seems to slip away when you’re around Anakin. Did he do that on purpose? Usually he doesn’t hesitate to remind you of the stakes. So why was he so helpful? God, all it does is piss you off.

You’re too caught up in your thinking to catch the sound of footsteps behind you. Your brows furrow as you suddenly come to. It’s dark, you're still a good five minute walk from your apartment building, the street is empty, and whoever is behind you has been steadily getting closer and closer. You curse your distractible mind.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You try to calm yourself, to hide your bunching shoulders, slow your breath and listen. The steps behind you grow closer, you pick up the pace just a smidge and they do too, that’s what sends you into a frenzy.

You break into a sprint, the feet behind you do as well. You race down the dark street, the corner light in front of you seems miles away. There’s a small alleyway coming up, you contemplate taking your chances on it.

When you turn your head you find your assailant to be hot on your tail, that makes up your mind. You whip to the left into the narrow alleyway and begin shouting, kicking down trash cans behind you. When you turn the corner, you find a dead end.

You turn, your assailant stands at the end after he turns the corner, a wicked grin on his face.

“Help me!” You scream. How cliche is this? The damsel backs herself into a corner. I mean seriously, running into an alleyway? Classic movie drama. Except this isn’t a movie, this is real life. And you are now alone in an alleyway with a scary dude who could easily overpower you.

he starts pacing towards you, mumbling incoherencies under his breath. You brace yourself, try to remember any self defense you’ve ever happened across. Go for the throat, the eyes, the nuts. Scratch him, get his DNA under your fingernails. God help you, fight like a madwoman. Thats what you remind yourself as you let out a final scream once he gets close.

you stupidly squeeze your eyes closed as he lifts his arm, a natural reaction you suppose, but the impact never comes. There’s a thud, you open your eyes. Evil guy is attached to the wall to your right, covered in what looks to be webs.

“Spider-Man?” You mumble, eyes wide.

”The one and only.” Says a voice beside you, loud, playful.

You whip around, there he stands. Tall, muscular, sporting a suit you’ve seen so many times. On the news, the paper, the internet, now here right in front of you.

He obviously notices your shock, he waves a hand in front of your face and you snap your mouth shut, you hadn’t even noticed it was open.

“You alright, ma’am?” He asked, his voice a gentle timbre, much softer than it was before.

You nod. “I’m not- hurt.” You sputter. “Just shaken up.” He nods thoughtfully.

“Would you like me to take you home? I can deal with this guy after. He’ll still be here.” He jokes, jutting his head to the man attached to the wall.

you blink, once, twice. “Take me home?” You repeat quizzically.

”sure. Would you like to walk or,” he points to the rooftop above, “swing.”

Spider-Man just saved you and now hes asking if he can take you for the joyride of your life.

you look up at the rooftop, and back at him. “Will you go slow?” You ask softly.

“Course I will. I’m sure you're scared enough.” He replies, he almost sounds excited.

“Promise?” You ask thoughtlessly.

He falters at that, nodding his head. “Promise.” He whispers.

He reaches towards you, you give him a look of apprehension.

“Can’t exactly swing without holding onto you, angel.” He chuckles.

You practically melt, your hesitance dripping away from you. You step close to him and place your hands on his sturdy shoulders as he pulls you into his body with one arm.

“Hold on tight, spider monkey.” You can practically hear the smile in his voice.

The quote snaps you out of your daze.

”Twilight?” You question, a smile gracing your lips.

“What? It’s a good movie.” He shrugs, and before you can even respond, he shoots a web to a nearby building and you are suddenly in the air.

You shriek, moulding yourself into him.

”Jesus Christ!” You scream as the two of you continue to ascend at an alarming speed.

“Slow down- slow down- slow down-“ you cry, burying your head into his neck, his hold on your waist tightens.

“Hey, easy, easy. I’ve got you.” He says softly. The movement stops, you’re clearly somewhere very high.

“Look at this.” He whispers.

You shakily lift your head from his neck and your breath stalls in your lungs. The two of you are hanging from a large building, so close to the top you can see the railing, but that’s not what caught your eye. The city, from this view, its beautiful. Thousands of dazzling lights, buildings, life everywhere. The wind whips through your hair.

“Do you get to see this every night?” You ask him, meeting his gaze. The eyes of his mask narrow, you suppose it must be from him smiling.

“Mhm, just about.” He says.

“It’s amazing.” You whisper.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, until the warmth of his body is no longer enough to subdue the cold breeze, the chill set deep in your bones causes you to shiver.

“Better get you home now, it’s late.” He says, swinging down.

You guide him to your apartment building, the ride down much smoother than the ride up.

He drops down on the ground in front of your building, setting you down and making sure you’ve got your footing. When his arm unravels from your waist, you nearly gasp at how much colder you get.

You look at him, still breathless.

“You okay?” He asks once again. And you grin as you nod.

“Thank you, Spider-Man.” You say softly.

He clears his throat. “Of course, just doing my job.” He straightens up, like he’s posing or something, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I better head in.” You say, and he nods.

“Right. Have a good night ma’am. And uh- I guess if you ever need help again, just scream.” He says, backing away.

“You think you’ll be able to hear me?” You ask playfully.

He halts. “Yeah. I’ll hear you.” He says it like a promise, and just as sudden as he had appeared, he was gone.

Your bones were practically jelly by the time you melted into your bed. As you drifted into sleep a smile crept onto your lips.

Abrupt ending!! Sorryyyy anyways hello everyone I’ve returned. Dedicated to @chocolatepeanuttraveler happy late Christmas and late birthday. I LOVE YOUUUUU, im gonna edit later don’t worry guys. Mwah xoxo

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

WIP word game

WIP word game I was wildly tagged by @loni4ever. I'll tag a few people at the bottom, but if you want to play, definitely have fun with it!

The game: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of your word.

My word was SUPER.

From What if we're unmade when the stars fade, a Loki/Logan one-shot that I need to get back to eventually and is inspired by a piece of Loki art by @scottxlogan:

“Sure, says the guy currently draggin’ my old ass out on a mission that’s more important than say, my sleepin’ in and gettin’ to watch the game.” He removed the cap off the beer and before he could set it down anywhere, a small trashcan appeared that didn’t move around. After he dropped the cap into it, Logan expected to hear the tap of metal against what appeared to be plastic, but there was no noise at all. In fact, when he looked inside, the cap wasn’t there. It had vanished to wherever Loki’s magic sent things. “And what did you say to those guys?”

“The birds? I asked them if they’d seen someone I’m looking for. He’ll have a potential lead on who took the Norn Stones,” Loki answered and finally reached into the ice chest only to pull out a bottle with no label and a stopper at the top. He pushed it open with his thumb and took a healthy swallow, all while keeping the boat steady in the air. Logan leveled his steel blue gaze at the prince, his own beer paused at his lips. “And did they know anything?” he found himself asking and mentally kicked himself for engaging Loki more than he had to. It was a little interesting, though, to hear the Trickster speaking bird language, and given his comfort around animals over people some of the time, Logan was pretty impressed to see how respectfully this asshole treated the little winged guys. Of course, Logan being a drinking man, he eyed the deep blue bottle that Loki drank from, and his nose picked up the sweet smell of honey with that back hint of yeast, so he knew it was mead. There was more to it, though; something fruity – fruit, obviously, but he couldn’t quite make it out. “They told me where to find Eitri, and that’s who we need to see,” Loki replied and caught Logan’s almost lusty stare at his bottle. “It’s melomel,” he stated, “that is mead that’s been fermented with fruit. Apple juice, to be precise, instead of water added to the honey. Technically, I think it’s referred to as a ‘cyser’, but the Ljossalfar added almonds and a hint of cinnamon to the fermentation process.”

---

From Hemispheres Pt 3 (Roll the Bones), Chapter 2 (Sometimes the winner takes nothing), Loki/Tony (eventually), partly Loki + Tony, partly Loki + Steve:

“Until later, Anthony. See to your business while I see to following the suggestions of JARVIS and Agent Simmons. To the bath I must go,” Loki said without disguising his fondness for both the AI and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists who’d stopped treating him like a villain the moment he’d let loose with some of his more colorful seiðr when they asked to run tests on it to see how well they could analyze it. “Yeah, definitely later, Mischief,” Tony vowed and watched Loki’s back as he moved up the hall toward his place. He stepped back and leaned into the wall while the doors closed, his head tilted back, eyes closed while he tried to figure out how to go forward.

* Steve stared at the closed door, as if he was somehow Superman and could see right through it to get the answers he came looking for now that he was nervous about asking for them. Several times, he lifted his hand, and each time, he lowered it again, rubbing his palm on his jean-clad thigh. Fuck this was stupid.

“Loki, Captain Rogers is standing outside your door. I believe he wishes to speak to you but for some reason hasn’t been able to knock,” JARVIS spoke to Loki inside his apartment. It was just as well this interruption of his rest came when it did, as Loki had been re-reading the same sentence of his book for the last half hour, his eyes blurring over the text. He tucked the bookmark between the pages and closed the book, setting it gently on the coffee table beside his half-drunk cup of tea, the rest now cold and unappealing. Slowly, he swiveled his body around until he was sitting upright, his feet sinking into the plush carpet that felt a little like walking on a cloud, and Loki pushed himself up. “Thank you, JARVIS. I’ll put the Captain out of his misery and see what he wants,” Loki said to the AI as he padded across the livingroom. He stood at the door for a moment, picturing Steve outside, probably practicing a whole new litany of complaints and lectures he wanted to throw at the prince. Steve had hours since they’d all finished their reports to S.H.I.E.L.D. and went their own ways from the field office back to the tower, and that was plenty of time to come up with new insults or ways to dress him down. Exhaling slowly, Loki opened the door to find Steve there, as JARVIS told him, his fist raised to knock. “Oh. Loki, hi,” Steve groped for his bearings, the surprise as clear as his blue eyes. “I hope I’m not disturbing your rest. You were pretty banged up out there.” Loki met Steve’s gaze, and he could practically smell how nervous he was, not to mention his eyes darted from Loki’s to the hall then down to his sneakered feet and back up again.

---

From Wantons light of Heart, Pt 3. Scott Summers/Tony Stark

Pushing himself back on his knees, Scott twisted to pull one of his shoes off, followed by the other, tossing them onto the floor. He tugged their socks off and discarded them as well before turning back to undo Tony’s pants.

“Probably an hour or two tops. Should give us enough time to make good on all those dirty promises we made over text throughout the week,” Scott answered as Tony sat up to push his shirt off.

The inventor’s deft fingers made fast work of the button and zipper of Scott’s jeans, and even though there was no major rush, neither of them finished undressing slow. Even before the last of their clothes hit the floor, Scott and Tony tangled into each other, their mouths locked together, tongues remembering the flavors of each other from the previous weekend, as if the whole span of a week hadn’t separated them. Scott pushed Tony down until he was lying with his head sunken into the double-stacked pillows, and he leaned down to kiss his way from Tony’s stomach, up along his chest, tonguing each nipple until they were hard before finally supping kisses from his mouth as he settled across his hips.

“Plenty of time,” Tony muttered against Scott’s lips and grazed his hands over his bare skin, relearning his lover’s body after a week away from it. He groaned into the kisses when he felt Scott press into his hands, eager for his touch. As they went along in this new relationship, Tony felt they would have to work out mid-week dates or something just so they could do more than talk or jerk off together over video chat. He’d figure out a way to make it sustainable – to make it so that they didn’t reach combustion point before the next time they saw one another.

---

From What happens in Vegas, Pt 2 Like a river flows surely to the sea; Loki/Justin Hammer

Everyone glanced over to see Sam mimicking the age old gesture of sex by poking the index finger of one hand through the thumb-meets-index finger of the other. Several sets of eyes widened at the blatant inquiry, especially with Morgan at the table, though none needed to worry since the six year old was too busy in her own personal food coma – and playing a game on her own little Stark device – to really pay attention to the filthy suggestion being presented. Of course, Justin nearly choked on his last sip of coffee while Loki appeared confused as to what the gesture meant. “Sam, you can’t just ask that,” Bruce groaned, dropping his napkin on his empty plate as he spared a glance at Thor to see if the big brother was appalled or protective. But Thor looked just as bewildered as Loki. “I don’t even understand what he’s asking,” Loki blurted out and gestured at the table until all the dishes disappeared, only to be stacked back in the cabinets where they belonged, cleaned and dried by the miracle of magic. “Never getting tired of you doing that, Reindeer Games,” Tony muttered while he reached over to wipe Morgan’s jam-sticky mouth with a napkin dipped into a glass of water. “As always, Anthony, my seiðr is at your disposal, even for the most mundane of chores,” Loki retorted and laughed when Tony flicked water at him. Sam looked between Loki and Thor and forgot that they hadn’t learned everything about Earth even if they’d been visiting for centuries or even since they’d come to reside here most of the time. “Loki and I aren’t…there yet, Sam,” Justin finally supplied and darted a glance at his boyfriend, “we haven’t even technically gone out on our first date yet.” “And why is that, Hammer?” Thor asked, trying hard nod to be the menacing big brother who finally had been making up for centuries past by being more protective than the bag of dicks he’d been accused of being once Loki had learned that particular turn of phrase from Tony.

---

Also from Hemispheres Pt 3, Chapter 2, but an earlier scene:

“Right right…sorry, J,” Tony apologized and stilled his hand. “JARVIS, too, treats Loki like one of us more than you assholes do.” “Thank you for remembering me, sir,” came the gentle sarcasm of his AI. About that time, Hulk’s footsteps pounded the street right up to Loki’s boots and then stopped. Still prone, Loki squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his teeth as that minor earthquake shook him everywhere that he hurt currently. He finally exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto and attempted to look up again. At least, now, the Hulk’s massive form was blocking the glare of sun off the windows, so he didn’t feel blinded for the moment. “You really don’t have to say anything, Anthony. I know they hate me. If I had a way to time travel them to the place where I was tortured before coming to Earth to let them witness it themselves, it still wouldn’t be enough to convince them otherwise,” Loki gentled in Tony’s direction. This only made Tony glare harder at Steve, Natasha, and Clint until the latter two walked away toward the quinjet, perhaps even looking a little chastised for now. “Loki, none of us condone torture,” Steve started then looked shocked when Loki managed a very broken and wet laugh before it turned into an even wetter cough. He set a hand onto Loki’s shoulder carefully, not liking the sound. “Forgive me, Captain, but I believe one of the terms on your planet is bullshit? You have two master assassins on your team, and while I don’t begrudge them their pasts or what they’ve had to do in the line of their work, I will remind you that at least one of them is very proficient at torture,” he corrected and tilted his head to make sure he met Steve’s eyes. “You know what I mean, Loki,” Steve grumbled, feeling the heat creep up his neck to the sides of his face at being called out on his own comment. “If we saw you being tortured, any of us would’ve stopped it from happening and gotten you the help you needed. We just didn’t know at the time of your arrival, and…”

---

Tagging: @scottxlogan, @stormxpadme, @kleenexwoman, @fohatic, @soliloquent-stark, @carsonian, @meidui and anyone else who wants to play.

Your word is: MAGIC

[slut4thebroken]

Assorted characters x stalker!reader hcs - pt. 2

Part 1

(Jason Todd, Jonathan Crane, Jackson Rippner, Spencer Reid, Stiles Stilinski, Bucky Barnes)

Jason Todd - You don’t ever confront him. He actually figures it out on his own. You were following him, walking half a block behind him, wondering where he was going. He suddenly turned a corner and you rushed to speed up to make sure you wouldn’t lose him. When you rounded the corner, a hand was gripping your neck tight enough to make you wheeze and pushing you against the wall. You clawed at his arm, already feeling lightheaded from the pressure, and once he got a good look at you, he seemed to realize who you were— the girl he helped a few weeks ago. He asked why you were following him and what you knew as you gasped for air, trying (not really though…) to remove his hand from your neck while squeezing your thighs together. He suddenly removed his hand and you took in a huge breath, then started coughing. Your relief didn’t last long though. Cold metal on your neck made you stiffen and you looked down, finding a knife against your skin. “You better start answering me or things are going to get a lot worse for you.” He warned, but that only made you want to do the opposite. You wanted to test him— see what he’d do to you once he snapped. When you couldn’t speak, he dug the knife into your skin a little harder and you let out a low moan, making him freeze. “Of course you’re getting off on this- fuckin hell.” He muttered, making you blush. “That why you’ve been following me, sweetheart?” He cooed mockingly. His gaze trailed over your flushed face and you bit your lip as you waited. “Still can’t talk?” He asked, giving you one last chance. “Fine. But let’s put that mouth to good use, yeah?” He forced you down onto your knees, the rough gravel making you wish you had worn pants instead of a skirt. He dragged the knife over your cheek as you got to work on freeing his cock. A sharp sting on your cheek made you gasp and you brought your hand up, feeling a small bead of blood leaving the wound. You looked up at him and he put the knife on your chin to tilt your head up even more. “I’m not a very patient man so I’d move a little faster if I were you.”

Jonathan Crane - One night you followed him excitedly, he was deviating from his normal schedule so this must have something to do with his alter ego. Since it was night and there weren’t many people out, you made sure to really keep your distance. When you rounded a corner, gas was being sprayed in your face, making you cough and sputter as you felt your heart start to beat faster in your chest. Your body grew sweaty and shaky, your breathing shallow. You felt hands on you, making you scream louder, then a hand was being placed over your mouth as you were dragged somewhere. Your brain couldn’t focus on the details, not with the fear response you were undergoing that was starting to manifest into actual hallucinations. After a while you eventually passed out, the stress being too much on your body, and woke up a few hours later on the floor in a dark building. You couldn’t see much, but suddenly a hand was gripping your hair from behind you and pulling you up into a sitting position. “Why are you following me?” The voice modulator in the mask made the question sound even more menacing and your body started trembling again. When you didn’t answer, he forced you around to face him and grabbed your cheeks to make sure you were looking at him. Through the mask you could see icy blue eyes that you’d recognize anywhere after staring at them for half a semester. “Professor..” You said breathily, a small smile forming on your lips. You knew he liked you just as much as you liked him. When you said that, he recoiled away from you with a sharp “What?” You explained that ever since you found out he was the newest villain terrorizing Gotham, you wondered if he’d want to use you for his experiments. You wondered what he’d do to you when you were incapacitated by fear, unable to fight back or protest. When you told him that you wished you had woken up with a sore cunt, you knew he was blushing under the mask, but he quickly recovered. “Aren’t you a depraved little thing… Is that why you’ve been stalking me? You want your professor to take advantage of you?” When you nodded eagerly he scoffed and stood up. “And what makes you think I’d be interested in a desperate fucking whore, huh?” You whined and looked away, biting your lip to keep from moaning. “My standards aren’t that low, sweetheart.” He condescended and you couldn’t keep the sounds down anymore. You pleaded— for what? You weren’t sure— and grabbed onto his pants leg, getting up onto your knees. You begged him for a chance, telling him that you’re not a desperate whore, not unless he wants you to be of course. “Don’t lie to yourself.” He scoffed. “I’ll give you what you want and in return I just want one thing.” “Anything,” You begged. “You.” You didn’t have time to ask him to clarify before gas was invading your senses again and he was pawing at your clothes, eagerly ripping them off your body, leaving them in tattered shreds on the floor.

Jackson Rippner - The only reason he found out was because you told him. You brought your hand gun to keep control of the situation, and that worked for a while… until you went up to his room. The second the door softly clicked shut, he was grabbing your hand and bending it backwards, making you cry out and loosen your grip until he managed to take the gun from you. “Stupid fucking slut thinks she can bring a little toy and get whatever she wants? I’m going to make you regret ever meeting me.” He growled, then proceeded to do the opposite. He fucked you so hard— so good— you knew you were ruined for any other man now. Nothing would ever compare to the way he held the gun against your temple and “forced” you to suck him off or the way he pushed you down deeper on his cock even though you were choking and gagging and crying. But most of all, nothing would ever compare to the way he fucked you— hard and rough, words blending praise and degradation seamlessly, making you beg him to spare your life as his cock rammed into your abused hole relentlessly.

Spencer Reid - He was able to figure out that you were following him. You’re his student and the first time he noticed you outside the classroom, he assumed it was just coincidence. But after the fourth time, when he would watch you try to act nonchalant like you really were just there for yourself and not because you were watching him, he knew his suspicions were correct. So one day after class he told you to stay behind for a minute. Your whole face flushed as your head raced with thoughts of what this could be about. What you didn’t expect though, when he brought you to his office then closed and locked the door, was for him to call you out. He told you about how he knew you were stalking him, then asked why. When you stammered out a pathetic response, he only got crueler. He called you stupid and needy and desperate, making your cunt fucking throb. When you whined, he let out a sharp laugh “of course you fucking like that” he said, making your blush darken. His punishment for your wanton behavior was far worse than any of your fantasies and you left his office with a bruised ass— that’s not even being dramatic, it was literally black and blue. The next day, his eyes were trained on you for the majority of the class, watching the way you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat.

Stiles Stilinski - (this one is giving Neil and violet in watching the detectives lol) (also this got so long but I don’t feel like editing it to make it shorter) The only reason Stiles found out was because of a stupid mistake. He was talking to you, asking about the homework since none of his friends were in the class you both shared, and it turned into a normal conversation. You were trying to focus on his words and not his lips or his fingers as they played with his flannel and because you were so flustered, you slipped up. You said something that you shouldn’t have known and he picked up on that instantly. “How do you know…” He asked, growing increasingly concerned. “H- oh my god… Do you spy on me?” He whispered, almost horrified. “That depends on how you define spying…” You said with faux innocence. “Oh my god- you spy on me! Why do you spy on me??” He exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few students. You grabbed his flannel and dragged him down the hall to the janitors closet, then shoved him inside. You told him how spying makes it sound so juvenile and your infatuation was anything but— which made him blush. When he called you creepy and rambled on for at least five minutes about how that was a complete invasion of privacy, your heart started to sink. You weren’t doing it out of creepiness... But then he started talking about how he didn’t understand why you’d want to spy on him of all people. Which you thought was stupid. He’s probably the most interesting person you’ve ever met— he blushed when you said that. Almost as if the stars aligned, you were paired together for a project. His recent discovery of your… infatuation, almost intrigued him. Honestly it felt like he was on the verge of a full blown adhd induced hyperfixation on you. When you showed up at his house with all of the materials you needed, he opened the door, then his jaw went slack at the sight of your low cut top. You spent the night laughing at his jokes, listening to his rants, inching closer to him, but he only seemed to notice when you placed your hand on his thigh. “W-what are you doing?” He squeaked, making you smile. “Nothing.” You shrugged innocently. “Wait..” He started when you slowly dragged your hand up his leg. “I can make you feel so good, Stiles. Please, will you let me?” He groaned and closed his eyes in response. Your hand reached the top of his thigh, but you stopped so that your finger was just barely brushing his crotch— his bulge. He opened his eyes and stared at you as you waited for permission, batting your eyelashes at him. “Have you ever watched me jerk off?” He asked suddenly and you almost choked on your spit from surprise. “No…” You muttered, almost sounding disappointed. “Go sit on the chair.” You tentatively stood up and walked over to his desk chair, watching as he pushed the books and papers aside to lay down. When he started unbuttoning his pants, you stiffened. “What are you doing?” You asked, staring at him with furrowed brows, your cunt starting to ache. “Stiles,” You whined, getting to your feet, but you quickly dropped back down when his voice lowered and he ordered you to ‘sit the fuck down.’ “You should be grateful I’m not making you watch from outside.” He said harshly as he took his cock in his hand and stroked slowly. Your mouth went dry and you subconsciously leaned forward in the chair, wanting more. Everytime you tried to get up though, he told you to sit down and threatened to make you leave, saying that he’d close all of the blinds and finish alone. And everytime you’d whine, but sit back down. He came on his stomach and you ached to lick it up, but he grabbed a tissue from his nightstand and wiped it up before tucking himself back in his pants. When he called you back over, you thought he was finally going to give you what you wanted, but he made you sit down and continue working on the project with him, completely ignoring the way you were whining and squirming.

Bucky Barnes - The way Bucky found out was probably the most humiliating way possible. He knocked on your door one night, asking if he could come in to talk to you about something. You eagerly agreed, wondering what he might say. He asked if you knew about his past, what he was made into. You answered honestly, not sure where he was going with this. Then he asked if you knew what the serum did. You, again, said “yes, it made you stronger.” He agreed and your confusion remained until he said that there was more. “It didn’t just give me enhanced strength, I have enhanced senses too.” Oh… You weren’t sure what he was trying to say though, which you voiced to him. “It means that I can hear your heartbeat from another room… I can smell your cunt when you start acting like a bitch in heat any time you’re around me for longer than five minutes.” He growled, making your eyes widen. He practically bullied you relentlessly about it, but the most humiliating part was when he pointed out how he could smell you right now. He could smell how needy your “pathetic fucking cunt” was getting just from his words. He said that he could practically taste it— that’s how wet you were. And when you tried to deny it, he forced a hand down your pants to find out for himself, laughing loudly when his fingers swiped through your obvious arousal, making your whole face turn red as your hips bucked forward from the contact. “So fucking wet.” He muttered, almost disgusted. But you could see the tent in his pants.

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Lack of Engagement Pt. 1: Ancient Rite

[Rain learns his actions (rubbing a giant metal dick) have consequences (marriage). The RainDrop series y'all doomed yourselves to in the poll... with some mild tweaking.] Below the cut.

It starts with a rumor among the siblings.

Something Rain isn't ordinarily interested in -rumors, or the siblings to be honest- but with a heatwave keeping them all locked down inside the abbey, and a desire to avoid doomscrolling on his phone, again, for the third day in a row... he'd indulged in a healthy bit of eavesdropping, hoping to hear something juicy, and instead learned of a curious addition to the abbey's art collection.

A giant statue of a penis.

Not the first one in the church's possession, but, according to the siblings -and this is the part that amused Rain the most and nearly drove the ghoul to tears- if you rubbed the head while linking hands with your lover, the devil himself would appear and give his blessing for you to be wed.

Rain thinks it's the funniest shit he's ever heard, or maybe it's just the heat fucking with his better sense of judgement, but it's either grab a friend and give a handjob to a statue or go back to lurking in Swiss' likes on his social media pages playing, "When will I find softcore porn?" and honestly, as much as he likes seeing the multi-ghoul be horny on main, he knows a fiery little demon who would get a kick out of something like this.

He considers texting Dew about the statue, but the idea of missing the look on the hybrid's face when he hears the words, "Giant Dick" is not something he can readily pass up.

Ultimately, it isn't that hard to find him either, Dew stays in one of two places when it's hot as balls outside; The abbey's indoor pool -which Rain knows he can't be in, because EVERYONE is in there right now, and Dew likes it all to himself- or the library.

It's surprising to hear, unless you've met the man himself, but Dew is an avid reader in his downtime.

In fact, in the time that he's resided in the abbey, he's read about a solid third of the books in the library, and has donated quite a few from his own collection over the years.

His room would be overflowing with them if he hadn't purged so many in the last year or so... to make more room for new ones.

Rain is sure it's partly to spite Mountain for having so many plants in their dorm, taking up every available surface that Dew hasn't claimed outright, but neither of them complains when a new fern or book on said fern appears in their room.

They work oddly well together as roommates in that sense.

Their space feels like an even mixture of the both of them, not like when Rain had been stuck rooming with Aether for a year and a half...

If you want to test the strength and boundaries of a friendship, listen to your best friend destroy your shared bathroom after eating two week old meatloaf from the back of the fridge and see how you feel.

Bless him, Aeth's a great guy, Rain loves him like a brother, but goddamn there were times where Rain wanted to throttle him.

You live and you learn.

Stepping through the heavy wooden doors leading into the library -locked in place to avoid another... unfortunate squishing incident- Rain scans the nearly empty room for signs of life, but a cursory perusal of the patrons has him coming up short one white haired, pointed eared devil... which can only mean one thing.

"He's up in the loft." a helpful voice informs him, and when Rain glances over, he sees the librarian sat back in his chair at the front desk, gesturing upwards with his chin for emphasis before returning to his crossword puzzle.

Rain isn't sure whether the man knew he was looking for Dew because of his appearance -having forgone his glamour- or if he simply looked like he wasn't there to study, like the siblings he sees sequestered in a far corner, pouring over a large tome and muttering in tones just above a whisper, but he thanks him anyway and heads for the first set of stairs up to the library's second floor.

There are three tiers to the abbey's library; The first floor, where the siblings of sin attend lectures and study various texts to learn their secrets -or, as he has seen quite a few doing, taking online classes to learn skills that will take them to careers beyond the church-, the second floor where all of the more adult books are kept to avoid any of the young wards of the abbey getting their hands on them, and the third floor, which is barely bigger than your standard storage closet, the loft.

The loft was built well before Rain's time on the surface, and had been meant to be a private office for Sister Imperator, but age and a desire to remain close to the papas had resulted in her room being moved to the first floor instead, and the room itself had fallen into disuse, and thus, when the library underwent a much needed renovation, so, too, did the room upstairs.

That being said, very few of the siblings bother trekking up that far in the library to read, and the narrow, ladder like steps leading up to it are a turn off for most wanting to ascend with an armload of books, but Dew manages it just fine somehow.

Walking with purpose, Rain debates calling up to the ghoul, but remembers that shouting in a library isn't exactly smiled upon, and he can feel the librarian's gaze upon him the moment his mouth opens a bit too quickly.

Thinking better of his initial impulse, Rain instead ascends the ladder and pokes his head up out of the hole in the floor, half expecting to see Dew surrounded by a mountain of books, but what meets his eyes first is, well, Dew's eyes.

He barely contains a yelp as he comes nose to nose with the other ghoul, who's crouched on at the top of the ladder, arms crossed.

"...Hello." he greets, watching Rain compose himself.

"Hi-" Rain starts, "-do you wanna go touch a dick with me?"

"What-"

.

.

.

"-in the merciful fuck is this gorgeous thing doing in a place like this??" Dew cackles, rounding the giant bronze dong, "They sculpted veins and everything! How'd you even find out about this being here, Rainy??"

"The siblings were blabbing about it earlier, and I needed to see it for myself. Had to bring a friend, of course, because apparently it's not just a giant dick-" Rain says, wiggling his fingers, "-it's a magical giant dick, ooo~"

Dew snorts and steps back from the dick, which is, hilariously, just a bit taller than him.

"So what's it do?" he asks, casually leaning on the statue, which stays rooted in place thanks to the flared out base at the bottom, "Aside from looking like some kind of absurdly sized dildo?"

"According to the siblings, if you rub it-" Rain and Dew share a giggle at that, "-if you rub it while holding hands with your lover, Satan himself shows up and, boom, you're married."

"To Satan? Or each other?" Dew questions, seeking clarification, "Also why would the lord of Hell deign to marry two mortals together? It's such a weird concept to begin with, like one of the romance novels I read with the sisters in our book club last year..."

"You're in a book club?" Rain raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head, "Anyway, I just wanted to see if there's any credence to what the siblings were yapping about, and so far it checks out; I mean, I'm standing in front of a giant dick... and a bronze statue of a penis."

"Oi." Dew swats at him halfheartedly, "Jerk."

Rain stretches his arms and cracks his fists dramatically, "I intend to."

"You're an idiot..." the other huffs, sounding almost fond, "So why'd you bring me along?"

"Well, you know it takes two..." Rain smirks, "...and plus, we can find out if it's actually magic or not. You and I aren't a couple though, so it would probably be a net zero in terms of results, but it'd still make for a funny story though, and I know the others would be jealous that we got to the giant dick first..."

"Swiss is gonna be so mad when he finds out we found it before him." Dew agrees, nodding, "Okay, I'll bite."

"You really shouldn't use your teeth for something like this, it's a sensitive area." Rain teases, then extends his hand to Dew, "Wanna rub one out with me?"

Dew scoffs and links his hand with Rain's.

"Sure, why not? Worst case scenario, someone's gonna jump out with a camera and go, 'HA!' so might as well get the show on the road."

Approaching the statue together this time, the pair slaps their free hands down on the head and, with another fit on laughter successfully held in by the virtue of NOT making eye contact with each other -"Don't look at me during." Dew whispers, almost breaking Rain's concentration- ...nothing happens.

"Well, that was kind of lackluster." Rain comments, letting his hand drop down at his side, "I was hoping it would at least, like, glow or something, but-"

"Hear me out." Dew says suddenly, turning to Rain, "What if we... told the dick we're a couple?"

"Huh?"

"Magic and shit is all about intent, yeah? But it's also about respect, sort of." Dew explains, "We're not being serious enough about all of this, so the dick is... being a dick."

"Okay..." Rain draws his mouth into a line and gives the statue a thoughtful look before turning back to Dew, "You wanna try tricking the dick?"

"I want to trick the dick... for science." he says, holding his index finger up like a nerd emphasize his point, "Just to see if it actually works."

Rain sets his hand back on the dick, his other hand still holding onto Dew's, "And if it does work? What then? What do you think magical penis marriage entails?"

"You're the one who asked me to come." Dew points out, placing his hand back on the statue, "You tell me, shark nuts."

A pause.

"Do sharks even have nuts?" he wonders aloud, and Rain smirks, "What?"

"I mean, I do." he says and Dew rolls his eyes, "I thought you would know a lot about sharks seeing as you have that big ass marine biology textbook I gave you for your birthday last year."

"Hey, I do, I-"

Before Dew can finish, the ground begins to shake beneath their feet and the two find themselves clinging to one another to stay upright.

"What the fuck?!" Dew shouts, holding onto Rain for dear life, "Earthquake?!"

Rain stumbles forward, taking Dew with him a few steps before regaining his footing, "It's been a bit since we've had one this intense... We should get under cover before shit starts falling down!"

However, just as the duo is about the slide under a nearby table, the shaking stops and-

"...Uh, Rain, does the dick look... bigger to you?"

Rain makes a face.

"This isn't the time to-Oh my fucking god it is."

Standing nearly twice as tall as it was before, the bronze statue now looks over the both of them, its mighty girth casting a shadow from where it now blocks the light coming in from the windows.

An eerie glow emanates from the tip, which is now leaking... something.

Rain hopes it's just water.

"I think-" Dew starts, than yelps, "Ow!"

"What's wr-Ouch!" Rain winces as the skin around his ring finger begins to burn, strange runes scratching into his flesh, "What the fuck..."

"Thou hast attempted to invoke the ancient rites dishonestly, and are justly punished." a voice as loud as thunder booms, "May these binds remind you daily of your new found commitment... to each other."

And then, before either of them have the time to process what has happened, the ground shakes once more, and the statue... recedes.

Rain stares at the now flaccid statue, at the puddle of mystery liquid on the floor, and the markings on his ring finger.

"...Rain."

"...Yes, Dew?"

"...What the fuck."

.

.

.

In spite of the odd, borderline drug trippy experience with the dick, somehow, some way, the pair manages to put it from their minds by the evening.

The more they try to dwell on it, the hazier and more dreamlike the situation becomes, until it becomes just another nagging feeling that they forgot something important... and then, by midnight, it's as if nothing happened at all.

Rain's memory of overhearing the rumor is replaced with him scrolling on his phone in bed, and Dew's brings him back to the library, to the book he'd left sitting on the beanbag chair he finds himself slouching into now.

Absentmindedly, Rain fidgets with the silver band on his ring finger, plainer than anything he'd buy for himself, but, for some reason, it feels too... special... to want to take it off.

Dew does similarly with the gold band on his own hand, never one to wear jewelry like this, he slides it down his finger and feels a pang of... something... in his chest that makes him slot it back into place, feeling almost guilty for trying to remove it in the first place.

Overall, nothing feels different to either of them, but when Dew goes to his room and is met with a confused, half awake Mountain mumbling something along the lines of, "Did you leave something behind?" he can't help but ask what the tall man means.

"You must really be tired..." Mountain yawns, "You and Rain are in the room across the hall, remember? C'mon, let's get you back to your husband."

"My what now-"

At the same time, Rain finds himself staring at his phone screen, having remembered taking a picture of an interesting bird the day before, he'd wanted to find and edit the photo before posting it online, but now he's...

"Rain!" Dew calls to him in a panic, entering the room and all but slamming the door shut, "Mountain said-"

"-you may now kiss the groom."

Rain's eye twitches as he looks up from the video he'd found, "...Dew?"

"...Yeah, Rain?"

"...What the fuck."

What the fuck indeed.

[plzravagemethxxx]

BLOODLUST pt. 2

BLOODLUST Masterlist

Part One Part Three

"Fine. Fine." Y/N raised her hands in surrender. "But I'm only consenting to reconnaissance. We go in, collect information, and we get out."

KF and Robin exchanged giddy smiles.

Then Robin turned to Y/N, a sly gleam in his eyes. "Ready to be whelmed?"

The fire is still burning bright when the four of them arrive at Cadmus.

The fire brigade was busily attempting to put out what flames still remained, as well as trying to rescue the scientists and workers who were in the building.

"STAY PUT," a firefighter ordered through a megaphone. "WE WILL GET YOU OUT!"

That was the last thing Y/N heard them say before suddenly the ground shook with the weight of a loud explosion from within the laboratory. She saw the impact blow two of the men in lab coats out the window and into the air.

"KF, go!" she shouted, and she didn't need to tell him twice.

In a blink of an eye, Kid Flash raced towards Cadmus and ran up the steep face of the building, catching the poor scientists before they could meet an untimely demise. His momentum led him to speeding up to the roof, where he deposited the scientists before he tripped and fell.

"Shoot!" he managed to yelp, before quickly finding purchase on the windowsill. "Oh, thank god."

"It's what's-his-name!" one of the firefighters exclaimed. "Eh... Flash Boy!"

Robin snorted.

"It's KID FLASH!" KF grumbled. "Why is that so hard?"

"He's soooo smooth, isn't he?" Robin mused as he, Aqualad, and Bloodlust ran up to the building.

"Shut it, Rob," Bloodlust snarked. She grabbed her knife and sliced her palms and the soles of her feet. Then she lunged up at the side of the building. "STICK!" Her hands and feet stuck strongly to the concrete, and she began to climb up like a spider towards KF. "Hold on, buddy."

"Yep!" KF replied. "Kinda all I can do at the moment!"

In a couple seconds, Bloodlust crossed the building and arrived just before KF's grip could falter completely. She grabbed his wrist, and he clung to her arm fast, and she hauled the two of them into Cadmus through the open window.

"Must they always run ahead?" Aqualad muttered as he watched. He sighed. "We need a plan—"

But then he turned, and found Robin, too, had disappeared from his side. Instead, he saw the youngest of them all running up the fire truck ladder before grabbing onto an unused hose and using it like a rope to swing himself into the window as well.

Aqualad sighed. "Of course."

He hurried over to the fire trucks, right beside the firefighters still trying to hose down the fire.

"I need to borrow that!" he quickly warned, before he pulled his two Atlantean weapons from their sheaths and redirected the water from the hose to propel himself into the air, up to the roof, where the two scientists remained. "Step aboard. Now."

The men didn't hesitate. Aqualad landed first, as he set foot on the windowsill his friends had entered through, then lowered the scientists down the ground.

"Finally," Bloodlust called as Aqualad entered the building.

"I appreciate the help," he sarcastically replied.

"Hey, you handled it!" Robin protested, typing away at one of the computers he'd opened. "Besides. We're here to investigate. Poetic justice, remember?"

"Yeah," Y/N noted. "Investigate. KF," she added sternly, leveling the redhead with a look as he made shadow puppets using the light of Robin's screen.

"Sorry, sorry," Kid Flash mused in a very unapologetic tone. He glanced back to see Bloodlust was no longer looking, then resumed his shenanigans with a silent snicker.

"Robin," Bloodlust called, "found anything?"

"No, not much yet," the Boy Wonder replied. "Check some of the physical files and stuff, might be something there."

"Got it." She marched over to another desk and plucked the papers off of it, struggling to read the contents in the minimal light. She found notes on different DNA samples the lab had been given, most likely via ancestry tests and the like. One paper had, in bold red letters at the bottom, PATERNITY TEST NEGATIVE. Y/N set that paper aside and kept looking.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar ding! of an elevator, and frowned. She looked up to see Aqualad had gone off, and KF was following, and so she did the same.

She found the two boys standing at the mouth of a hall leading to an elevator shaft.

"There was something in the..." Aqualad muttered.

KF frowned. "Elevators should be locked down."

"Well, this one isn't," Bloodlust replied, stalking over to it. She heard Robin's footsteps as he followed. "That's suspicious. Rob, is this what I think it is?"

"This is wrong," he agreed, pulling up his holographic screen to search his archives for a confirmation. "Thought so. This is a high-speed express elevator. It doesn't belong in a two-story building!"

"Unless the building isn't just two stories," Bloodlust realized. She touched the doors and frowned. "Aqualad, you said you saw something enter the elevator?"

"Something that also doesn't belong here," he said.

He stepped up to the doors and gestured for Bloodlust to step aside. When she did, he placed his hands on the gap between the doors and pried them open with a shout.

The rest of them clambered beside him and gazed down at the elevator shaft. It stretched downwards for far longer than a supposed small-scale genetics laboratory should require.

"And that's why they need an express elevator," Robin quipped.

He pulled his grappling hook launcher out of his pocket and fired it into the ceiling of the shaft. Then he leapt into the shaft and continued to fall and fall until his line eventually came to an end at just around a floor labeled SB 25.

"I'm at the end of my rope," he muttered, a soft shock in his tone as he swung over to the door of the elevator. He quickly sidestepped until he found a decent spot to sit, then produced his screens again.

Aqualad came down next, followed by Bloodlust and then Kid Flash.

"I knew something was off with this place," Bloodlust hissed, touching the cold metal of the door again. "Not only is this an express elevator; these doors are heavily reinforced. They're probably not indestructible, but most definitely bulletproof. And I can feel it vibrating. Robin, these have tech behind them. Passcodes."

"On it," the Boy Wonder replied. "Bypassing security... there. Go."

Aqualad didn't miss a beat. He tore these doors open too, then the four of them slipped inside quickly. They found themselves, wide-eyed, in another enormous hallway. The lights were a deep red, the walls and ceiling and floor a murky black. Panel upon panel of black metal ran down the hall, giving the room a strange aura about it.

"Welcome to Project Cadmus," Robin announced.

Kid Flash wasted no time in rushing again. Aqualad tried to grab him to stop him, but the boy was far too fast. He sped ahead, only to severely underestimate his speed and fail to smoothly as he neared the end of the hall. He tripped and skidded across the floor, grunting in pain.

And then there was a thud. A heavy, scarily close weight dropping beside him, and KF opened his eyes as a strange, elephant-sized creature lifted its foot and began to lower it right over him.

Luckily, as per his powers, KF was more than fast enough to get out of the way of the herd of... creatures? As he stepped back and rejoined his friends, who were now in the hall with him, he struggled to understand what he was looking at.

The creatures were enormous. They had gravelly gray skin with strange red markings and pale underbellies and curved tusks emerging from the sides of their fanged mouths. Their eyes were a deep red and their faces seemed curved in permanent snarls. Bloodlust swore one of them met her gaze as it passed. They roared and blew steam from their nostrils, the heat so intense it was nearly disorienting.

"What are those?" Bloodlust asked in a hushed whisper, only for her eyes to then catch a glimpse of yet another anomaly. "Huh?!"

Seated in a sort of crouched position on the top of the monster was a tiny creature with beady red eyes and markings to match the bigger creature over its own cool gray skin. There were hard-looking lumps on their knees and curved appendages coming from the sides of its face. As the monsters passed, the tiny creature's horns began to glow a bright red.

Y/N's heart skipped such a long beat it might as well have stopped. There was this strange sensation in her body as she met the goblin-creature's gaze; a tingling which started at the top of her head and trickled pleasantly down to the tips of her bare toes. She was always aware of the blood in her body thanks to her metahuman powers but suddenly her understanding of it all was... heightened? Was that the right word? She was hyperaware of the beat of her heart, of the rush of her bloodflow, of the—

"BLOOD!"

Y/N jumped. "What?!"

Kid Flash was standing right next to her, his hand on her shoulder, a concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You sorta zoned out for a second."

"I..." Y/N took a shaky breath, then frowned. Why was her breathing so heavy now? "Sorry, I just... I don't know." She put her hand to her chest. "My heart feels like it's going supersonic right now. It... it must be the shock, I guess."

Robin didn't look convinced. "Doubtful. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Bloodlust assured him. "I'm okay. Um. What were those?"

Aqualad shook his head. "We do not know. But this is proof that Batman, Black Canary, and you were right. Cadmus is keeping far too many secrets."

"Well?" Robin prompted. "We're here now. Might as well uncover a couple more."

Y/N frowned. "Robin, I said only reconnaissance."

"C'mon!" KF protested. "Blood, we're already here. We can't exactly leave now! You can't say you're not curious."

This is a bad idea, Y/N noted. She glanced at her friends' faces, their looks of hope for her to agree with them (even in Aqualad's gaze, surprisingly). But I am intrigued by all of this. What were those things? Can we find that out? And not be caught by our mentors?

"Fine," she amended, waving KF away from her face. "Fine, fine. But if things go south, I'm calling Arrow."

"What?!" KF demanded.

"Hey, better him than Bats, right?" Y/N reminded him. "And he can help keep Canary from killing me."

"It's a deal," Robin said, cutting off Kid Flash before he could get annoyed. "If stuff hits the fan, you can call GA."

"Good." Y/N nodded. "Now. Where do we start?"

They were shocked upon opening the first vault, which really didn't bode well.

Robin found a bit of difficulty in hacking open the vault, which he was initially frustrated by.

"That's a first," he grumbled. "Hold on."

There was no need to hold on, however, because he managed to crack the code five seconds later. With a satisfying click and hiss, the vault doors slid opened.

"Okay..." Robin muttered, looking into the vault. "I am officially whelmed."

Inside the vault was column after column of cylinder-shaped semi-transparent containment chambers. Within each chamber was yet another unidentifiable organism with similar characteristics to the giants and gremlins from earlier. At the center of the room was an energy of sorts; a buzzing, bright blue ball of something, flashing rapidly as it drew power the containment chambers.

"They're... they're living batteries," Bloodlust realized.

Kid Flash marched up closer to the chambers. "This is how they hide this massive underground facility from the world! The real Cadmus isn't on the grid! It generates its own power with these... things." He placed his hands on his hips. "It must be what they're bred for."

Aqualad turned to Bloodlust. "You were right, my friend. They truly live up to the legend of their name."

Bloodlust nodded silently.

"So Cadmus creates new life," Robin noted. He marched up to the blue sphere of power, to the little control panel at the base of the structure, and connected his own monitor to the controls. "Let's find out why."

Y/N saddled up beside Robin and read his screen over his shoulder. Her eyes fell on paragraph after paragraph of scientific terminology and lab reports.

"They call them Genomorphs," Robin narrated. "Whoa! Look at the stats on these things!" He tapped on the image of the giant creatures from earlier, opening up a window with a characteristic breakdown of the organism. "Super strength, telepathy, razor claws—these things are living weapons!"

"They're engineering an army," KF muttered. "But for who?"

"Wait." Robin leaned forward and tapped on one of the files. "There's some other stuff. Project Kr and... ugh." He shook his head. "The file's triple encrypted. I can't—"

"DON'T MOVE!"

The four of them whirled around at the sudden shout, eyes wide and hands clenched into fists. Rushing towards them, a group of growling Genomorphs at his heels and shoulder, was... was that Guardian?!

"Wait!" he shouted, stopping dead in his tracks as he scanned the faces of the teenagers. Recognition flashed in his eyes. "Robin? Aqualad? Kid Flash? Bloodlust?"

"Hey, at least he got your name right," Robin teased KF before he continued trying to hack into the files.

"I know you," Aqualad spoke up. "Guardian. A hero."

"I do my best," Guardian humbly said.

"What are you doing down here?" Bloodlust demanded. "And why've you got those Genomorphs with you?"

"I'm Chief of Security," Guardian explained. "You're all trespassing. But we can call the Justice League, figure this out."

"You think the League is going to approve of you breeding weapons?!" KF fired back.

"Weapons?" Guardian questioned. "What're you... what am I..."

But he was cut off as the Genomorph on his shoulder turned to him, its horns glowing red. Y/N, too, staggered back, suddenly overcome with a strange urge; although, to do what, she was unsure.

Guardian pressed a hand to his head, groaning in discomfort. But then he opened his eyes again, a glimmer of determination in his eyes, and he looked back at the protégés. "Take them down hard! No mercy!"

Bloodlust was the first to act. She slipped her knife from its sheath and slashed at her palms, allowing the stray drops of her blood to fall.

"SMOKE!" she ordered, and her blood erupted into billowing red smoke.

Robin was quick to take advantage and produced his grappling hook launcher again. He fired it up onto the support beams overhead, then leapt up, allowing the wire to carry him to brief safety.

The Genomorphs advanced, slashing through the smoke and snarling; but their vision was obscured. Bloodlust took full control of the smoke and concentrated it around the eyes of the Genomorphs, blinding them but allowing her and her friends full visibility.

One came too close for comfort, and she lunged at the monster, letting the blood on her palms touch its skin.

"BURN!"

Instantly, the Genomorph let out a high-pitched, agonized shriek as its flesh began to burn and boil. It fell to the ground, and Y/N moved on to the next enemy combatant until she heard the electric crackling of Aqualad's weapons and followed the sound. She saw him knock down Guardian, and she ran alongside him and KF to escape the vault.

They booked it as fast as they could, staying out of reach of the Genomorphs by just a hair. Alarms began to blare, sending waves of pain through Bloodlust's head, but she kept sprinting until she found Robin, busily hacking away at the elevator. KF ran ahead, seemingly scolding him, until the elevator door opened and they rushed inside. Bloodlust quickly followed.

"You couldn't wait for us?" she panted, turning to Robin with a glare.

"You made it!" Robin grinned. "No need to complain!"

The growling of the Genomorphs grew closer, and Y/N looked up and yelped, pushing herself against the side of the elevator just in time to allow Aqualad to jump into the shaft. The doors shut behind him, trapping them inside.

"Okay, good," Bloodlust sighed. She stood and dusted herself off, then commanded her hands to heal. "Now, we leave."

But the floor level display continued to increase. They were going deeper into the sublevels.

"We're headed down?" Aqualad demanded.

"Dude!" KF turned to Robin. "Out is up!"

"Excuse me?" Robin frowned. "Project Kr? It's down, on sublevel 52."

"This is out of control," Aqualad protested. "Perhaps... perhaps we should contact the League."

"On it," Bloodlust began, but before she could reach her communications device, Robin grabbed her wrist. She leveled him with a wide-eyed glare. "Explain yourself or I will cut off your hand, Robin."

"Look, Blood, I think you're going to want to see this stuff," he implored. "Trust me."

"You promised that I could call Arrow!" Y/N reminded him. "Make good on your word!"

But then the elevator dinged open, and soon Y/N was too shocked by what she saw to even remember to call Oliver.

The hall—if it could even be called that—was strange, red, and flesh-like in appearance. Glowing blue pustule-esque structures jutted out from the wall, emanating ominous light.

"What is this place?" Bloodlust whispered.

Robin ran ahead.

"No!" Bloodlust reached for him, but he was already too far. "No, I don't like this at all, guys."

"Well, we are already here," KF tried to convince her, before quickly shutting up because Bloodlust gave him such a cold look he turned away. He elected to run after Robin.

Aqualad sighed heavily. "I will go with them. If you wish to stay back, that is your decision."

Y/N wanted to fall to her knees and kiss his feet in thanks. She hated this feeling of being here. The air was thicker, the walls looked alive, it was unnatural, unreal in all the worst ways.

But then Robin's words came back to her:

Look, Blood, I think you're going to want to see this stuff. Trust me.

"N-no." Bloodlust swallowed her nerves. "I'll come with you."

Aqualad hesitated. Then he offered her a gentle smile, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"That is quite brave of you, my friend," he assured her.

Y/N nodded. "Thanks."

[itsbubbleteataro]

The Radio Host and The Reporter (pt 3)

Parings: Human!Alastor x Human!fem!Reader

Warnings; Alastor being Alastor, murder, gore,

Part two Part four

NOT PROOF READ

When the sun rose the next day you were filled with excitement. Keeping your blinds open to ensure you would wake up with the sun you stepped out of bed. You stretched as you stood up, yawning as you exited the room. You started to make some coffee as you threw together a breakfast of eggs and bacon.

Playing your breakfast and taking your coffee you take a seat on your chair looking over your notepad figuring out how to word your next article. Taking bites and sips here and there you pick up your pen, enjoying a morning of silence while you make some corrections.

After finishing up your coffee and breakfast, you go ahead and put your dishes in the sink, rolling up the sleeves of your white silk nightgown before starting on your dishes.

Cleaning out your mug, pans, and plates you put them away, raising to your toes to place away the items that are located on higher shelves. Taking a step back you close your wooden cabinets.

Brushing off your nightgown, you run fingers through your hair, finding it to be too messy for your liking. You head over to your closet, placing a hand on your cheek in thought. As much as you would love to go out and gather more information, she does need to set to work on actually writing the article out instead of having strewn about notes.

Walking back to your table you scoop up the notebook, placing it on your desk next to your typewriter. You had purchased the typewriter not long after you had your first article published, in fear that your father would end up reading the original papers and figure out it was you all along.

Walking back to your closet you pull out a nice looking dress and lay it on your bed. You then pull a matching coat and hat out and walk towards your coat hanger by the door, hanging them up so you could grab them before you left. You return to your closet and grab a pair of tights and placing them next to your bed.

You walk into your bathroom, you go ahead and start the shower water, wanting to be fresh as possible before your date. You flush red at the thought.

"Oh get a grip girl! Why are you doing so much! He's just helping you out as a friend, I'm sure there's nothing more to it"

You shake your head and puff out your cheeks with a huff. You go ahead and strip yourself of your nightgown, throwing it into your bin of laundry for you do at a later date. Extending a hand to test the water before you go ahead and step inside, quickly washing your hair and body before stepping out after shutting the water off. You wrap your hair up in a towel and wrap yourself up in a bathrobe.

You walk back to the living room, knowing that you're the only one in the home, there's no reason for you to have to dress any more conservative. You turn the radio on just loud enough for you to hear it in your room while you work.

You flick through the channels, subconsciously landing it on station that Alastor works. Deciding you like the music that plays you go ahead and sit down at your desk in your room, beginning to write away on your typewriter.

Meanwhile at the radio station where Alastor works, he found his thoughts too occupied as he looked down at his script. He had about a half hour before he had to go on air and yet his thoughts were filled by you.

The way you had kept up with him on the dance floor the night before, the way you smiled. How your eyes reflected in the low lighting on the speakeasy. The shadows interest in swing music. The way you always had your hair up in a neat updo fitting ever so snugly under your hat fitting in with the trends. The way your laughter filled the room, your bright smile. The way you blushed when he kissed your hand, all of it filled his mind.

He could not make heads or tails of why he was thinking of you, nor of the way his heart seemed to beat faster around you. Alastor couldn't tell if he liked the feeling or hated the feeling. So far it seemed to be more akin to the feeling of a hunt. Ah yes a hunt. He had gone on one last night. It had been a good one as well.

He had used the heart to make a wonderful gumbo, even using some of the liver as well. Yes the feeling in his chest whenever he thought of you was that of a hunt. Something of adrenaline. Perhaps after taking you out on the town this afternoon the feeling would fade, surely it had too.

Meanwhile you finally looked up from your work, seeing that the sun had moved sighed. You had been working on your writing for a few hours now. Getting up from your seat you unwrap your hair from the towel and strip yourself of your soft bathrobe in order to get ready.

You pulled your stockings on first followed by your undergarments. You turned your vanity to go ahead and get your hair and makeup done. Your hair was pulled up into a faux bob and your makeup was done similar to it was when you had gone out, minus the bright red lipstick. Turning back to your bed you tug on your dress.

You can feel butterflies forming in your stomach at the thought of the time ticking closer to when Alastor would pick you up. You gently pat your cheeks.

"Oh don't get yourself in a tizzy girl just close your head(1). Just because you think he's the cat's pajamas(2) don't mean you can go around carrying a torch(3) for him! Oh pull yourself together! It's just nerves, nothing else"

You go to pull your shoes on, a pair of casual boots with a slight heel on them. As if on que, a knock rings off your door. Scrambling to your feet you pull your door open to a smiling Alastor. Returning his smile you pull on your coat and place ur hat on your head and head out with him.

"My what a wonderful day for a stroll, wouldn't you agree Cher?"

Asked Alastor as he took a look over at you. He quickly looked away, feeling heat rising past his neck. Again that feeling worked its way into his heart. Again he just told himself it was something akin to the adrenaline he feels when he hunts. Yes surely that was it. Surely he was incapable of loving a woman other than his mother he reasoned. Surely that was the reason his heart was beating wildly in his chest, not because you looked so beautiful, so innocent as you smiled up at him. Surely he wasn't admiring the way your eyes seemed to scan the area as if you were a newshawk(4) on the hunt for the next story.

Yes he told himself it was just nerves or adrenaline. Surely it would fade after the afternoon together. Surely it had to right? It would he told himself as he looked down at you, having looped your arms together strolling down the lane. He didn't miss the way your eyes lit up when spotted something you liked. Or how you would stop to smell the flowers as the two of you strolled through the park.

Yet in all of his observations about you and the area, he failed to notice how fast the time seemed to pass, only really noticing after you had pointed out how low the sun had started to set and that you were getting hungry.

Without a second thought he lead you to his favorite restaurant. It's nothing too special, but the way your eyes light up as you scan the menu for items you like just seems to do something to him.

He ordered his usual, venison steak while you ordered a serving of jambalaya. He made a mental note of how your eyes shone as you took your ur first bite. He felt a new emotion burning in his chest. He wanted it to be his cooking that made your eyes sparkle, not some random chef's cooking.

He quickly turned down to his meal, cutting into it and taking a bite. What was that? What was that thought that entered his head. He's never had such thoughts before and that says a lot considering his well, hobby.

What was this new emotion? It wasn't like the feeling he had chalked up to adrenaline and nerves, it was more ugly feeling. Gods he was driving himself up the wall(5) trying to figure out the emotion.

You noticed how he seemed to be glaring at his food.

"Is everything okay Alastor? What's eating at you?(6)"

You asked, placing your spoon down and folding your hands in your lap. Tilting your head you watched as Alastor looked up to meet your gaze, his eyes softening away from the gaze to an emotion you haven't quite learned to read yet.

"Right as rain my dear, just thinking about some trouble makers at work is all"

Alastor fibbed smoothly. You nodded taking his answer much to his enjoyment. He figured he would simply ask his mother when he saw her the next day as being wrapped in his thoughts was starting to diminish the quality of the date.

The two of you finished up your meals, and had a short argument over who would pay. Alastor won of course, saying he was the one who had asked you to join him this evening, on top of being ever the gentleman. After Alastor had paid he escorted you to your humble home.

"My dear I very much enjoyed myself on this fine evening. It would do me a great pleasure if you would accompany me on another one later on"

Alastor asked as you had your back to your door. You quickly nodded your head accepting his offer before bowing your head and unlocking your door and closing it behind you.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest, still you denied that you had any sort of feelings for him. Yet you couldn't deny the heat that rose to your cheeks when he had asked, or the way your heart had nearly tumbled out of your chest during dinner when his gaze had softened when he looked at you.

Taking your hat, coat and shoes off you scurry to your bedroom, changing into a silk white nightgown before taking your hair out and flopping onto your bed. Your thoughts swirled through your head. The way his hazel eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his hazel skin made him look oh so handsome in the lighting of the sunset. The way his pin straight was starting to return its naturally curly state by the time he had walked you home.

You groaned, rolling on to your side. You had other things to worry about, you had another article in the works, one that was almost done on top of that. It was a huge one, about all the recent missing people, suspecting a killer may be on the lose. You had to shift your focus away from the sweet lovesick thoughts of Alastor over to your work. You had to think of something for your next work. You got up from your bed and walked over to your notebook, scribbling down the name of a radio host who just happened to be Alastor's co-worker.

He was on your list to investigate and over dinner Alastor did say that there was trouble in his station. Surely it wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

As Alastor turned away from your door to start his walk back to his cabin on the edge of the bayou, his thoughts swirled. He stared at the ground infront of him as his feet carried him. The troublesome feeling hadn't left him. Instead the feeling seemed to grow. His control on his shadow slipped, causing it to break away and stop, its head turning towards your home.

He stoped when he felt his shadow wasn't with him. He looked at it, taking in the soft smile it had spread across its face as it looked at your home. He shook his head, his shadow snapping back into place. He had to control it for a little bit longer. Just until he got home, then he could let it run lose.

What in the world was this feeling? The way it made his neck and cheeks burn when you flashed him a gentle smile? The way your eyes looked at him with such concern for his well being when you asked if he was alright or when you had wished him safety the first time he walked you home. He was torn between wanting to capture that look in your eyes forever and never wanting to see you worry so ever again.

He pushed open his cabin door and shut it behind him, releasing his shadow letting it run wild. He feeling wasn't adrenaline he quickly ruled out. Again he'd have to speak with his mother about it. She was the only person in the whole world he trusted with such information on himself. His shadow stayed by the door, its lovesick grin never leaving its form as Alastor made his way to his bathroom to freshen up before bed.

He stepped out of his shower, his hair returning to its natural curly shape. He changed into his sleepwear, his shadow comming along. Thoughts of you swimming through his head as he laid down to rest. He supposes he may not mind the thoughts, as long as they don't interfere with his hunts or his work. He rolled over to his side, placing his glasses away on his nightstand before drifting asleep.

The next day after work, he went straight to his mother's home. The two sat on her couch, sipping hot tea. He explained his feelings, something that he had always struggled with while his mother's grin grew wider with each word he spoke.

"Well Alastor, if you were to ask me, I'd say what you are feeling towards the dame(6) would be love"

Alastor did a spit take, coughing, as his mother pat his back and gave a hearty love. She was overjoyed, her son finally finding love, something she was beginning to think was impossible.

"As soon as you start courting her I would love to meet her!"

"Mother"

Alastor wined. He relented, agreeing anyways as it was his mother. When he returned to his home he formed a plan, his shadow excited for the new changes coming into his life, even if its master hated change.

Many a date later, the two of you were sitting at a more fancy restaurant, the two of you dressed accordingly. As you cut into your steak, Alastor asked a question that would change the direction of your very life.

He took your hand after you had placed down your knife. Rubbing his thumb over your knuckles you looked up at him, swearing you could see red dusting his cheeks.

"Mon Cher, there's something I can deny no longer. I would like your permission to court you if you would be so kind"

You set your fork down as you gave your response,

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

"Close your head" - shut your mouth

"Cats pajamas" - slag for thinking someone's cool

"Carrying a torch" - to have feelings for someone

"Newshawk" - reporter

"Driving up the wall" - going crazy

"Dame" - a woman

[clarenecessities]

why toyguru's an idiot pt. 2

Okay, let's try this again. This is the second part of my little breakdown of the situation, and I'm actually going to lead with a video I reference midway through bc like... well, it's a good video. No sense burying it under a readmore. It's about 40 minutes, but it's got very concrete examples of just how much copyright infringement we've all been committing like, daily.

This is the part where I addressed some of the arguments I saw while picking fights in YouTube comment sections, like a well-adjusted adult does. Mostly the common ones, but a few special exceptions. Looking at this now I think I may have been a little too vague in some of my answers, but Part Three is shaping up to be a fucking doozy so I guess that'll be remedied eventually.

Alright, before I get into the YouTube Comments Arguments section I wanna go over a couple other things I found that I (still not a lawyer) think show precedent for Scott's use being infringement rather than fair use. Haven't looked into too many individual cases yet, but I've been flipping through Title 17 and I've found a few interesting caveats which may or may not be supported by the cases I haven't gotten around to reading yet (guess we'll see). Let's start with Brammer v. Violent Hues Productions, LLC No. 18-1763 (4th Cir. Apr. 26, 2019). A film festival, Violent Hues, used a photograph by Russell Brammer which showed the Adams Morgan neighborhood in DC. Brammer reached out to ask for compensation, and while Violent Hues removed the infringing content from their website, they refused to compensate the plaintiff.

The court found the first factor, the purpose and character of the use, weighed against fair use because the use was not transformative. Unlike technological or documentary uses that involve contextual change, Violent Hues used the photograph precisely for its content, that is, to depict Adams Morgan. Although Violent Hues claimed that its use provided film festival attendees with “information” regarding Adams Morgan, this use “would not be hindered if it had to comply with Brammer’s copyright.” Further, using the photograph to illustrate a website promoting a for-profit festival without paying for a license was commercial use. In addition, because the defendant, at best, acted negligently, the panel rejected the district court’s finding that Violent Hues’ use was in “good faith.” - Copyright Office Index's summary of the case

Scott's use of Ethan's (and, remember, others') images, as I outlined in my first post, is not transformative in any way. While he may be offering commentary, it is not on the photographs themselves, and the purpose of the pictures he uses is the same as the photographers' (at least in Ethan's case)—an artistic, clear, and aesthetically pleasing depiction of the figures. As Violent Hues claimed its use of the picture provided "information", Scott's representative claimed that the "images used are instrumental in illustrating these subjects more effectively", which would be a function even less hindered by complying with copyright. In a parallel to Brammer v. Violent Hues, the pictures were instead being used to illustrate a channel promoting a for-profit company. I concur with the court's finding that negligence is incompatible with good faith, because the only 'good faith' argument to be made is directly laid out in 17 U.S.C. § 504(2) (bear with me), and Scott did not have reasonable cause to believe that his usage was protected. He made assumptions, didn't question them, and then told his subscribers he was totally protected, like a ninny. Further,

[...] the court concluded that “the copying here fails the ‘ultimate test’ of fair use: Violent Hues’ online display of Brammer’s photo does not serve the interest of copyright law.” Indeed, while some content “sharing” online may be fair, “If the ordinary commercial use of stock photography constituted fair use, professional photographers would have little financial incentive to produce their work.” - still the Copyright Office IndexWhich is a heck of a mic drop, if you ask me, but I'd like to return briefly to Scott's unreasonable belief in his protected usage. See, 17 U.S.C. § 504(2) imposes limits on the penalties of such infringement, specifically that if an "infringer was not aware and had no reason to believe that his or her acts constituted an infringement of copyright" then they pay less per infringement. So should Scott be aware, or have reason to believe that his acts constituted copyright infringement?

I'd argue that any reasonable person, when accused of a crime—especially a malum prohibitum situation, where there may be statutes you're unfamiliar with—would and should look inwards and say, "wait, I'm innocent, right?" and then try to prove it. Scott's not a 'lay down and die' kind of dude, he's been fighting these accusations the whole time, often to his own detriment, but did he actually do any research? He clearly googled "Fair Use Doctrine", if his little "YOUTUBERS BEWARE!" video is any indication, but frankly I don't believe he made any effort to understand Fair Use beyond, at most, seeing 'education' in there and seizing upon it as his excuse retroactively. There are oodles and oodles of articles, videos, essays, so much out there breaking it down into easily digestible formats that Scott either didn't consume or didn't comprehend, and certainly didn't have anyone explain to him. Actually, a brief aside—I found a pretty solid YouTube video breaking Fair Use down that I recommend to anybody who prefers videos to text. Its information on YouTube's strike system and the CASE act are slightly out of date, as it was published about 4 years ago, but it's examples of Fair Use are spot on [[refer to beginning of post or click here]]

I mean heck, in his latest counterclaim he explicitly refers to 17 U.S. Code § 107. Or, sorry, to "applicable provisions of the DMCA, including the Fair Use Doctrine under Section 107 of the Copyright Act", never mind that the DMCA doesn't even amend § 107. But this, beyond his earlier references to the 'fair use doctrine', proves he has direct knowledge of § 107's text, and should therefore know his argument for its application is flimsier than a house of cards. He has, once again, shot his own argument in the foot, and 17 U.S.C. § 504(2) doesn't play around. But he wants to talk about provisions of the DMCA? Let's talk about provisions of the DMCA. Now, while flipping through 17 U.S.C. I stumbled upon (okay, sought out) 17 U.S. Code § 1202(b)(1), which covers the removal or alteration of "Copyright Management Information" (hereafter CMI) that can be used to identify the copyright holder. It's kinda poorly defined, but 17 U.S. Code § 1202(c)(7) includes under the definition of CMI "Identifying numbers or symbols referring to such information or links to such information." which I think applies pretty indisputably to watermarks, but as I've said (and will keep saying so that nobody gets complacent), I'm not a lawyer. I'm just a vindictive little nerd with internet access and a love of research. I don't actually know that this would be admissible before the CCB, despite being part of Title 17, but statutory damages for §1202 violations are $2,500-$250,000 per violation. So with 48 removed/obscured watermarks just as of Ethan's initial blog post, that's $120,000 minimum, more than 4 times the max damages allowed by the CCB (which is capped at 30k). 17 U.S.C. § 504(2), which I mentioned above, provides that any infringement is subject to $750-$30,000 per instance, and if willful infringement is found it bumps the max up to $150,000 per instance. So if we once again limit it to Ethan's initial findings (81 of his photos), that's an additional $60,750-$12,150,000. Twelve million dollars, dude. Now I don't think any judge in their right mind would award that, or frankly that Ethan would seek that much in the first place, but when I say Ethan could come down on Scott a lot harder I fuckin' mean it. Scott is out here complaining that he's being blackmailed and harassed? It could be so much worse for him. And you know what? I think that's a good point to segue into the arguments I saw out in the YouTube trenches, and why I think those arguments are weak and/or dumb. ARGUMENT:Ethan is being petty. How could you take someone's YouTube channel over some pictures of toys? COUNTERARGUMENT: I'm being petty. Ethan is protecting his copyright. Nobody seems to appreciate that a valid copyright claim is a courtesy, a notice to the infringing party that they're violating copyright law. It's more like a cease and desist than the death sentence people seem to believe it to be. Let's take a moment to define some terms. Per YouTube Help:

A copyright claim refers to either a copyright removal request or a Content ID claim, which are 2 different ways to assert copyright ownership on YouTube. [...] If any copyright owner finds their copyright-protected content on YouTube without their authorization, they can submit a copyright removal request, also known as a "takedown notice" or simply a "takedown". It is a legal request to remove content from YouTube due to alleged copyright infringement. [...] When your content is removed due to a copyright removal request, a copyright strike is applied to your channel.

This ties into another argument, "Submitting three strikes at a time is a dick move" or something to that effect. Ethan, as a copyright owner, cannot apply a strike. All he can do is submit a claim. If ContentID finds a match to its database, it's a strike. If the accused does not contest the claim, it's a strike. Strikes expire after 90 days, and after your first one you have to complete a little training course on copyright, which I assume Scott did after his first strike for using copyrighted music, but I guess that didn't stick. You get three strikes, and then, you're out. This comes with an important caveat:

If your channel is part of the YouTube Partner Program, you're eligible for a 7 day courtesy period. After 3 copyright strikes, you'll have 7 additional days to act before your channel is disabled. During this period, your copyright strikes won’t expire and you can't upload new videos. Your channel will remain live and you can access it to seek a resolution for your strikes. If you submit a counter notification, your channel won't be disabled while the counter notification is unresolved. If the counter notification is resolved in your favor, or the claim is retracted, your channel won't be impacted.

The reason Scott's channel was initially deleted is because he failed to log into his YouTube account for (at least) ten days to dispute the claims. After it was returned to him, he tried to wriggle out of changing anything & jumped on the defamation train, so Ethan filed more claims, we entered the purgatorial 'courtesy period', and we've stayed there to this day.

ARGUMENT: YouTube dismissed 101 claims as invalid, so there was no infringement. COUNTERARGUMENT: That is very obviously not how any of this works. YouTube is not a court of law, does not have lawyers reviewing each individual copyright claim, and has always been extremely up front about these facts. Here's another place Scott has shot his ability to plead ignorance in the foot. In one of his community posts, he said, "I and my attorney firmly believe all of my videos are protected by Section 512(g)". That is, and I can't stress this enough, the section which allows YouTube to take his content down without liability. He keeps saying YouTube has a "guilty until proven innocent" policy, but they're acting pursuant to the section which he cites. YouTube is subject to the provisions of the DMCA, right? So what does that mean? Essentially, so long as YouTube complies with the DMCA's rules, they're in a "safe harbor" where they cannot be held liable for the activity of their users. If some guy uploads the entire Disney catalog one day, YouTube can't be sued for copyright infringement, because they've provided a method for copyright holders to issue immediate takedowns, a sort of stopgap to allow holders time to bring court proceedings against infringing parties. Furthermore, there was a little case (well, a series of cases merged into one Big case) called Viacom International Inc. v. YouTube, Inc. which precipitated the development of ContentID. By adding their copyrighted material to the ContentID database, copyright holders can protect against the unauthorized upload of their material. The catch, of course, is that ContentID is primarily for catching infringing videos and songs, and does very little to protect against small-time infringements like lifting photos off the internet for your YouTube videos. YouTube found no copyright infringement because ContentID doesn't have all of Ethan's photos uploaded. Why would it? Literally why would it. But Scott seems to be under the impression that YouTube manually reviewed these claims, or would ever in a million years accept liability for declaring something infringement or not. Or at least, so he'd have us believe. All you have to do to defeat a copyright claim/avoid a strike is swear under penalty of perjury that there was a mistake or misidentification. That's it. That's all. And Scott, believing there was a mistake and that his work was totally fair use, so swore. So YouTube accepted the counterclaims, and told Ethan if he wanted the content taken down again, he'd need to take it to court. It's not a judgment by YouTube, and it in no way exonerates Scott. ARGUMENT: Ethan doesn't even own the copyright for these photos. They're protected IPs, they belong to (Company)! COUNTERARGUMENT: This is probably the most common argument I saw, which Scott didn't help by repeating ad nauseam. Someone called it "the same as NFTs" which… astounds me on multiple levels. Somebody else said "A copyright is a piece of paper giving someone ownership over an intangible through government offices." which is both really specific and really wrong. There isn't necessarily a piece of paper, and the copyrighted work doesn't have to be intangible. Like dude, what? If I do an oil painting, you're telling me I can't copyright it because it exists in the physical plane? Yeesh. But hey, enough kicking around. Let's take a trip to the third edition of the Compendium of U.S. Copyright Office Practices, which is the "governing administrative manual for registration and recordations issued by the U.S. Copyright Office on or after" January 28th, 2021. (Please believe me when I say you want me to use the short form citation on the quotes from this).

As with all copyrighted works, a photograph must have a sufficient amount of creative expression to be eligible for registration. The creativity in a photograph may include the photographer’s artistic choices in creating the image, such as the selection of the subject matter, the lighting, any positioning of subjects, the selection of camera lens, the placement of the camera, the angle of the image, and the timing of the image. Example: The Office receives ten applications, one from each member of a local photography club. All of the photographs depict the Washington Monument and all of them were taken on the same afternoon. Although some of the photographs are remarkably similar in perspective, the registration specialist will register all of the claims, because each photographer selected the angle and positioning of his or her photograph, among other creative choices. - Compendium (Third) § 909.1

Compendium (Third) § 909.2 goes on to clarify that the subject matter of the photograph need not be copyrightable itself, although more in the sense of 'you can't copyright a mountain, but you can copyright your picture of it'. And it stands to reason, doesn't it? A photographer owns the photos they take and develop, not the subject matter, so only the usage has the potential to infringe copyright, barring extenuating circumstances.

The only area where this gets thorny is in the commercialization of photographs. Let's consider Gaylord v. United States, 595 F.3d 1364 (Fed. Cir. 2010), concerning the Post Office turning a photo of a copyrighted Korean War monument into a stamp. They altered the colors and added snow, but the court found it insufficiently transformative to outweigh the commercial gain (over $17 million dollars) and the fact that the sculpture and stamp served a common purpose: honoring Korean War veterans. On the other hand, there's Mattel Inc. v. Walking Mountain Prods., 353 F.3d 792 (9th Cir. 2003), which was about toy photography specifically (we know her!). The defendant, Thomas Forsythe, took a bunch of pictures of (generally nude) barbies in compromising positions with kitchen appliances and food, as a commentary on society's objectification of women. He sold prints, and publicly displayed the works in galleries and a few shows—ultimately he made $3,659 (though Mattel investigators comprised half of his total sales) off the series.

The "purpose and character of use" factor in the fair use inquiry asks "to what extent the new work is transformative" and does not simply "supplant" the original work and whether the work's purpose was for- or not-for-profit. Campbell, 510 U.S. at 579, 584, 114 S.Ct. 1164. A work must add "something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message." Id. at 579, 114 S.Ct. 1164. [...] In assessing whether Forsythe's photographs parody Barbie, Mattel urges us to ignore context — both the social context of Forsythe's work and the actual context in which Mattel's copyrighted works are placed in Forsythe's photographs. However, "In parody, as in news reporting, context is everything." Id. at 588, 114 S.Ct. 1164 (citations omitted). We conclude that Forsythe's work may reasonably be perceived as a parody of Barbie.

Which is to say, so long as your use is Fair Use, you can take pictures of copyrighted and trademarked IP.

And, as you may recall, Ethan's pictures are part of his reviews. So even if we were to suppose that (Toy Company)'s copyright superseded Ethan's as the photographer, and his works were ruled insufficiently transformative (which would be very difficult to prove without contradicting decades of law and centuries of common-law), there's a precedent for findings of Fair Use in such cases, even against giants like Mattel. Trademark is a stronger disincentive for the sale of toy photographs, but so long as you aren't attempting to benefit financially from an association with the trademark holder or their product, you're probably fine. I don't have citations for this bit because I haven't done any research into trademark law beyond the Wikipedia page, 'cause it doesn't really feel applicable to any of this, and it's a stupid argument for other reasons. ARGUMENT: Retroblasting is behind this!/Ethan must be a fan of Retroblasting! COUNTERARGUMENT: So many people blamed this on Retroblasting, a guy I'd never heard of, that I actually looked him up and watched his video on Scott. Wasn't crazy about it, myself. Didn't do much to materially support his claims and (sorry) he's got a terrible reading voice. I have no idea why so many folks seem so convinced that he orchestrated this somehow, let alone how he would have done so. By messaging Ethan and telling him "Hey, Toyguru stole your pictures"? Ethan says it was a real life friend that tipped him off, and I believe it, but why does it even matter? The point is that Scott stole his pictures. I'm still considering hitting up some of the other folks he's stolen from, as a professional courtesy. Are they gonna claim I'm an agent of Retroblasting? Is the Copyright Office itself an agent of Retroblasting, for writing and managing copyright law in the first place? Nobody had to orchestrate anything, man. Scott used people's work without credit or permission, and while he got away with it for a long time, he could hardly do it forever. ARGUMENT (direct quote): just because it originated from his website doesn't mean it as his copyright violated. I informed Scott on multiple occasions he was in violation of The LEGO Group's Fair Use Policy by displaying his logo on a minifig. See below:

We can't allow the use of LEGO copyright materials such as brand names, logos and trademarks like the 2x4 brick or the LEGO minifigure for commercial purposes such as promotional campaigns, marketing and PR. This also applies to items such as building instructions and parts. For more details, see our Fair Play policy.

So, every single video that opened with the pirate ship, displaying the minifig not in the background, but displaying his brand logo prominently. This is a copyright infringement. COUNTERARGUMENT: Uh oh! This one's 100% true! 😬 Perhaps I was too hasty in suggesting he do stop motion with his LEGOsona to avoid further infringement. He couldn't have just used a spadille torso?? They must make those. He made like three toys of himself, why did he go with the LEGOsona? ARGUMENT (direct quote): I know squat about this takedown, but looking at The Figure in Question's site he has his logo on his pics and pretty clearly states that his pics aren't to be used without permission of attribution. Is it really that hard to ask for permission? It's probably less work that cropping the pics to remove Ethan's info. COUNTERARGUMENT: It's definitely less work than cropping the pics to remove Ethan's info. A one-time, "hey man, do you mind if I use your photos in my videos?" could not have gone astray, and including a credit that just links back to FiQ takes about 8 seconds. I timed myself doing it just now, it is precisely 8 seconds. Now. To wrap up I'd like to address a few things Scott himself said that weren't part of a specific argument but were materially incorrect enough that I think they merit correction.

"There is also a thing called the doctrine of fair use, which is why none of the claims made by it--by this particular person were found to be in violation by YouTube's standards. Fair use is what allows YouTube creators to do things like this [plays copyrighted clip from Austin powers without commentary] or like this [shows a screenshot of Fox News, including photos] I just took a snapshot from a news site this morning, like literally just whatever was on the top. You can do that! It's called fair use, you're allowed to show images from online and videos, as long as it is within the fair use doctrine." -Scott in his "YOUTUBERS BEWARE!" video

Those examples aren't even kind of within the fair use doctrine <3 hope this helps In one of his community posts:

Once again Ethan Wilson from figureinquestion.com has put false copyright strikes against my channel. All images I use are approved by the Fair Use Doctrine and the Digital Millennium Act and my videos are all educational in nature. I have had 101/104 of his false claims dismissed so far because it is all in legal fair use, but the final 3 are still "undecided/under review" which is what is keeping me from posting new videos.

As I've said, the fair use doctrine can't "approve" anything. The DMCA—wait, he forgot the 'Copyright'. The "DMA" cannot "approve" anything. His videos' educational quality is, at best, subjective, and as we addressed above YouTube's dismissal of claims was simply because he submitted a counterclaim in the first place, not because it was all "in legal fair use". Here's another community post:

To Ethan Wilson who has put 104 claims against my channel for copyright infringement, please know I never intentionally used any of your images. If your images were used inadvertently, it is only because they were nice images I liked with no idea they could potentially be yours.

You can't accidentally upload a picture to a video program. Like sure, maybe you grabbed it while dragging a bunch of pictures, but that means you failed in your duty as a videographer to ensure you had the rights to all images, and you applied effects/transitions. The images were absolutely used intentionally, and their quality—far from the compressed thumbnails displayed on Google Images—indicates that he downloaded them directly from the source: Ethan's blog. He could perhaps claim he downloaded them from someone else that had already appropriated Ethan's work, but A. you can track that kinda thing on someone's hardware, so it wouldn't hold up in court, and B. that would just demonstrate further negligence! What part of 'watermark' does he not understand?

All of this work will now be erased forever in a few hours because I may or may not have inadvertently used an image you believe is your copyright. [...] All you need to do is ask and I will gladly edit out the 5 seconds of my video you have a legal copyright to with documentation.

Scott does this thing where he like… okay, look at his language here. "May or may not", "inadvertently", "an image you believe is your copyright". It's like he read a blurb about the passive voice and only retained 30% of it. He writes like a marketing agent and it makes my skin crawl. "All you need to do is ask" and then shoehorning in "[that] you have a legal copyright to" and "with documentation" to make himself seem so reasonable and like he just needs one little thing. Bah. There's no legal argument associated with this part, it just irritates me. If you're gonna lie to my face, at least do it well.

Finally, please note that while this channel is for educational and humor purposes, 80% of my consultant clients have come from them finding one of my videos and then reaching out to my via SpectorCreative.com for my consulting business. Without my channel I will lose out on my main source of marketing for my company and my living. Losing this channel will be like losing 80% of my income all due to three videos with a still image nd my narration that lasts less than 10 seconds on screen.

Back to factual stuff. He's contradicted his later representation's message, that his channel is strictly educational ("humor" isn't covered under fair use) and further underlined his financial dependence on the use of others' work. In conclusion: Scott's really bad at pretending to be smart, and maybe people in YouTube comment sections aren't the ideal of the advocatus diaboli I had hoped for. It turns out mostly they're kinda dumb. Darn.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 12

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: okay soooo many. Violence, quite a bit of it actually, and then later it gets so nasty; oral (m & f receiving), double v penetration, mad dirty talk, praise kink goin craaaazy, double creampie, dumbification kind of- I think that's all of them but idk they fuck and it's filthy basically

Genre: maybe a little angst i think, lots of smut, even more fluff

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

"Did you find her?" Steve asks.

"Fucking hell." She breathes out.

"What? What does that mean?" Steve frowns.

"How quickly can your people get ready to move because we need to go now."

"They're ready. Been on standby for your go ahead all night." Steve says.

"Good. This is the go ahead. I know where she is." Wanda says.

~*~*~

A glance at the clock tells you it's after nine. The clock is analog and there are no windows on this floor so while you're pretty sure it's morning, there's a chance it's been a whole day and it's night again. You sit cross legged on the bed, facing the clear wall, trying to come up with a plan of action. Your eyes narrow when you notice two shadows on the floor. People are walking this way. You gasp when you realize who one of them is and walk over to the glass wall.

"Bruce!" You yell banging on the plexiglass to make sure you get his attention. He jumps and turns to you, eyes the size of saucers when he sees you.

"Y/n? Oh my God." Bruce walks right up to the glass.

"What did you do?!" You ask.z

"Me? I- I had nothing to do with this I swear. I didn't know you were here! I swear." He shakes his head frantically.

"There were six people that knew what I was Bruce SIX and you were the first to find out. You kept a file on me like I was one of your little projects! How much do you wanna bet that stupid file is how I got here in the first place?"

"All I ever did was run a blood test and jot down some observations." He says defensively.

"All you ever did was run a blood test? On your girlfriend. Without her permission! Do you realize how not okay that is?!"

"I'm sorry! Look, I never wanted anything to happen to you. I will- find out who's responsible for this and get you out of here I swear."

"If you plan to help you'd better do it quickly because I can guarantee hell will be on your doorstep soon." You say.

"What's your tag?" Bruce asks you.

"Excuse me?"

"The uh- identification they gave you. Instead of your name. He would've given you an identification number, we use them for, ya know." Bruce's words trail off.

"Say it Bruce. Don't be shy. This is your work. I'm an experiment here."

"Look did he tell you your tag or not?"

"89273. I think." You say.

"You think? You need to be sure."

"I heard it once Bruce. Excuse me if I haven't committed to fucking memory yet." You roll your eyes.

"Y/n." He sighs.

"That's it. I'm sure." You nod.

"I need the letters."

"What?"

"The letters at the beginning. That's the part that makes it unique.  Everyone here uses a different letter combination to keep our work organized. It'll help me figure it out."

"AZM." You say. Bruce mutters something that you can't exactly hear through the glass, but his face gives him away anyhow. "What is it? Why did you just get all pale?" You ask him.

"Nothing! Just- hang tight. I will- figure this out and get you out of here."

"Not like I can go anywhere in the meantime." You mutter. "Bruce!" You call before he can get far. He runs back over to your cell.

"Yes?"

"If I find out you're more involved in this than you are letting on, I will rip you to shreds in every sense of the word." You say. Bruce nods and dashes off. A few minutes later the camera in the back corner pops out from the wall and the whirring of its mechanics makes you turn around to face it.

"Good morning subject AZM89273." The same voice from before rings through the room. So, it is morning, just like you thought.

"You know, that arbitrary combination of letters and numbers is so many more syllables than just saying my name. I'm sure this is supposed to be some sort of display of your power in this situation but it really just seems like you're giving yourself more work." You say.

"That's funny I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter."

"Yes well if we all stuck to doing explicitly what was asked of us I wouldn't be here so, we can't always have it our way now can we?" You roll your eyes.

"We will begin round two of testing in one hour and fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting! Not like I can go anywhere on my own." You say with a lazy shrug. The camera disappears back behind its panel in the wall and you're once again left with your own thoughts and plans.

~*~*~

"Wanda where exactly are we?" Bucky asks when the trio pulls up to the address she gave. She'd rushed them into action when she located you, giving an address to the driver with a group of their, Wanda calls them minions, following in other vehicles.

"Bruce's lab." She says walking towards the door quickly.

"Bruce as in y/n's ex Bruce?" Steve places a hand on her shoulder.

"Wanda hang on we don't have a plan." Bucky says.

"Yes as in y/n's ex. And the plan is to get in there, get her out, and maybe break a neck or two in the process." Wanda says.

"You didn't want to mention in advance that y/n's ex was responsible for this?" Steve asks.

"It makes sense." Bucky scoffs.

"I didn't say he was responsible because I don't know if he is. As far as I know he's not the only person that works here. It could be someone else that uses the space." Wanda says.

"Wilson." Steve looks over his shoulder to call towards the group that's waiting for instructions. Sam walks over to the three of them quickly.

"What's the plan?" He asks.

"Surround the building and find every entrance. I want the whole place covered. The primary goal is extraction. If you find y/n, she is your top priority other than that nobody gets in or out of this lab until she's safe and the bastards who did this are in front of me and Bucky is that understood?" Steve says.

"Crystal clear." Sam nods.

"No, wait. I will prioritize finding y/n. Your guys should focus on locking the place down so the culprit doesn't make a run for it." Wanda says. Bucky and Steve exchange a look and a slight nod.

"Fine. Focus on keeping everyone inside. If you find y/n in the process she still takes precedents but in the meanwhile don't let anyone get out of there until we've got who we need." Bucky says.

"On it." Sam returns to the group and starts giving out directions while Wanda stays with Steve and Bucky to discuss their own strategy.

~*~*~

Fifteen minutes to go before they move you again. Time drags so slowly in this room of blank white walls. Assuming they sedate you again, you'll have to wait until they're wheeling you back to this room to make a break for it. If you're lucky like last time, you'll wake up before they make it here and you should have no problem getting by a couple of scientists.

CODE BLACK; INTRUDER ALERT; INITIATING LOCKDOWN

The blaring alarm and sudden flashing red lights coax you quickly to your feet. Perhaps you should be alarmed by the sudden alert and angry red flashes considering you're trapped in a room, but you'd bet money the security breach in question is here for you and you're the only person whose safety is guaranteed.

"Uh- Don't know if anyone is listening to me or not but in case you are, I'm pretty sure that warning code of yours, means your time is up and you should start running. Or don't, it'll make everyone's life easier. You can't really escape this." You say loud enough that you should be heard even over the repetitive warning.

"Y/n!" You spin around at the sudden call of your name. Wanda's magicked a hole in the plexiglass wall of your cell.

"Wanda? Wait a second did you bring the calvary here?" You ask stepping through the hole into the hall with her.

"You sent me an SOS did you expect me to do nothing with it? Of course I did, you have the mob basically at your disposal." She says hugging you tightly.

"I know, I just didn't think you'd be here with them." You say with a small chuckle.

"Oh please they're just the muscle on this mission. I'm the one that found you." She scoffs. "Come on, your boyfriends went looking for the culprit. I'm sure they're waiting for you." She says draping her arm across your shoulders. The two of you head further into the facility, every so often passing frantic scientists being corralled by Steve and Bucky's men.

"I don't think all of these people were involved in this ya know." You say to Wanda.

"I'm sure they weren't but Steve and Bucky said no one's allowed out until they find the right people. Better safe than sorry." She shrugs.

"Yeah I guess so. There were three guys that kidnapped me, I didn't hear them all talk so assuming none of them are the guy orchestrating this there could be anywhere from 4 to 7 people involved, based on who I've seen or interacted with. There could be others of course. There have been some periods of unconsciousness on my end so-" You rattle off.

"Don't worry. I'm sure between your boyfriends and their minions they'll find out the exact number and their identities in no time." Wanda says. Eventually, you find Bucky and Steve, their backs are to you and Bucky's got someone pushed up against the wall. You rush up to them when you realize it's Bruce they're shaking down.

"Bruce." You say. Steve and Bucky turn to you and Steve has you in his arms not a second later. He's mumbling about you being okay and blaming himself and Bucky for this all happening (somehow), between kisses atop your head.

"Thank God you found her Wanda." Bucky says. As much as he wants to hug you he's not about to let Bruce go.

"Steve I'm alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, you can let me go." You mumble into his chest. It takes a few seconds before he unwinds his arms.

"Are you hurt? Do you need anything? I am so sorry princess. This should never have happened. I-"

"I'm okay Stevie. As far as I know all my parts and pieces are exactly where they're meant to be. You can stop doting and blaming yourself. That doesn't even make any sense." You say.

"We're just- so relieved to see you." Steve sighs.

"Right back at you." You say turning your attention to Bruce. "Are you going to tell me who's responsible for this Bruce, because I think you've known since you saw me a few hours ago and I couldn't push it then but now, your life is in- technically in his hands but whatever you tell me will determine if I let him kill you or not so choose your next words very carefully." You say.

"Wait a second it's not Bruce that locked you up?" Bucky glares at him.

"Not directly, I don't think so but I have a strong feeling he knows who did." You say.

"Y/n, please." Bruce chokes out.

"I need a name, Bruce. A name." You say.

"Dr. Gekko. Colin Gekko." Bruce relents.

"Describe him." You say.

"Brown hair, green eyes, tall and pale. He's got a birthmark on his neck." Bruce rushes the description out breathlessly.

"Drop him Bucky." You say. Bucky lets Bruce go and Bruce hunches over struggling to catch his breath. Steve is already on the phone before you can say anything.

"Clint, we need to find a Colin Gekko. Brown hair, birthmark on his neck, tall and pale with green eyes. If you can find a photo- yes, make sure everyone knows. He is the target." Steve says into his cell phone.

"We should start looking too." Wanda tells you. You nod in agreement.

"Y/n, wait." Bruce says before you've even started to walk away. He holds out a flash drive to you that you look at with confusion. "It's everything we have, on you. What Colin was doing, my- initial file. I've wiped them all from our servers but... I thought you'd wanna have the information." He explains. You take the thumb drive from him.

"Thanks." You mutter.

"I was so looking forward to finally having a reason to break his bones." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"You can break Colin's bones when we find him." You say. "I bet he's still in whatever observation room he was using to watch me."

"End of the hall." Bruce yells after you all. Following his suggestion, the four of you head down the hall towards the observation room. Bucky kicks the door in before you even try to open it. Chances are this Colin guy tried to barricade himself in there anyway. Sure enough, when the door flies off its hinges one scrawny looking green eyed man, birthmark on his neck and all, turns to look at you all with fear on his face. Steve grabs him before he can make a move, holding his arms behind his back.

"So you're the one behind all of this." You cross your arms.

"I should rip your head off your shoulders." Bucky glares. You hold up a hand to stop him from moving towards the cowering scientist.

"I want an explanation." You say.

"You want an explanation? You broke his heart and one of the greatest scientists I've ever known couldn't do his work." Colin grits out.

"So- Bruce, put you up to this?" Wanda frowns.

"No." He scoffs.

"Sorry, let me see if I can piece this together. My boyfriend, lies to me for months, so I break up with him, well within my rights and you kidnap me to run experiments in hopes that you'll- what? Fix him? Get brownie points? Maybe a promotion?" You ask.

"I've been here for years, always flying under the radar, I thought for sure you, the bitch who ruined him-" he stops to groan when Steve tightens his hold on him in response to his vulgarity towards you.

"Watch your mouth." Steve warns shoving Colin to his knees.

"I deserve to be a head scientist here." Colin says.

"Aw, well now you'll be a dead scientist. Broke the code of ethics and all, only to wind up with nothing." You shrug. "Not even a pat on the back from your 'so-called' idol who, by the way, totally gave you away for us to find you."

"Wait I- I don't wanna die." He shakes his head.

"Oh. Maybe you should've thought about that before you kidnapped me. Word of advice, don't target someone with mob ties if you like living."

"You know, if you keep him alive you could teach him a lesson he won't forget." Bucky mutters quietly. You look over your shoulder at him and consider his suggestion.

"Do you have a knife?" You ask.

"Yes." Bucky pulls out a blade and hands it to you immediately.

"Wait a second what do you need a knife for?" Steve asks. You squat in front of Colin and grab his wrist, placing his hand flat on the ground between you. With the knife in hand, you start to sing as you jab the knife between the gaps in his fingers.

"You have all your fingers. The knife goes chop chop chop, and since you were not careful, I'm gonna take some off." You slam the knife down severing the two middle fingers on his right hand and the scream he lets out his piercing. Steve's eyes look like they're about to fall out of their sockets and Bucky's currently trying hard not to let it show how much he enjoyed watching you do that.

"Y/n!" Wanda gasps.

"What?! He kidnapped me! I coulda killed him, taking two fingers is letting him off very easy!" You say.

"Honestly the little song was a cute touch. Clever." She nods.

"Right?! Thought it'd make it a little more fun." You link your arm through hers turning to leave Colin wailing on the floor.

"Hang on." Bucky says. He walks over to Colin and grabs him by the top of his head, pulling him up onto his knees. Bucky shoves his thumb into one of Colin's eyes, sending him into another screaming fit. "Leave town. Because if we ever see you again. I'll take the other eye." Bucky says menacingly, letting go of his hair. Colin crumples to the ground again as Bucky cleans his finger with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Let's go." Bucky says, a hand on your back guiding you out of the room and subsequently Wanda, while Steve walks behind you, discussing something with Sam.

"So what happens now?" Wanda asks.

"We take you home." Steve says.

"I meant with Colin." She frowns.

"He'll probably get out of town thanks to Bucky's threat."

"How did you guys find me anyway?"

"Wanda came to us." Bucky says.

"She interrupted a meeting and nearly got shot in the process." Steve says.

"I mean, I didn't know they were in a meeting until I got there. Besides, I was too busy being angry about you getting kidnapped despite their insistence on security watching you." Wanda says.

"Well I'm safe now." You shrug.

"We want you to see our medic." Bucky says.

"What?"

"We don't know what that sick bastard could have done to you and we think it would be best to have you looked over just in case." Steve explains.

"Alright. Fine, but you stay the whole time." You say.

"Deal." He nods. "Wanda we'll drop you at your apartment first and bring y/n back later, okay?" Steve says.

"Sure whatever." She shrugs. The rest of the drive to Wanda's apartment is quiet, Wanda hugs you tightly before getting out once you arrive. After dropping her off, the three of you head to Bucky and Steve's penthouse apartment where the medic is already waiting for you apparently. She's quick, but thorough in her examination, checking superficial things like your reflexes and vision asking several questions, taking samples of your blood, and whatnot. When she leaves, you let out a deep breath finally feeling comfortable.

"How're you doing princess?" Steve asks sitting beside you to rub his hand in circles on your back. Bucky sits on your other side with a hand on your knee comfortingly.

"I'm... alright- it's just been, a day- or a couple of days. I don't really know how long it's been actually." You frown.

"It was only one night. Wanda was up til morning trying to find you and we headed out as soon as she got you." Steve explains.

"Oh- well that explains why it's only after 1 pm." You mutter.

"This- may not be the best time to say this but I'd like it to be known that the little knife game you played with that guy, was very... impressive." Bucky says.

"Thank you, although I think it's fine to say that now because it like just happened." You chuckle.

"Seriously Buck?!" Steve rolls his eyes.

"What?!" Bucky says.

"Am I missing something?" You look between the two of them.

"Don't 'what' me!" Steve scoffs.

"Oh come on, there's nothing wrong with what I said you're the one being weird about it!" Bucky says.

"Okay, definitely missing something." You nod.

"I'm being weird about it?! Because I know what you meant by that! Don't play dumb."

"Hello!" You shout and they both look at you immediately.

"Yes princess?" Steve says at the same time Bucky says,

"Yes sunshine?"

"Hi, can you let me in on this weird psychic conversation you're having?" You ask.

"If Bucky was 'impressed' with your little knife trick it was not because of this head up here." Steve says tapping his fingers on his temple.

"What-?" You frown.

"He thinks it was hot." He rolls his eyes.

"Ohhh! You could've just said that. Either of you." You laugh.

"You were just kidnapped, now is not the time to be thinking with our- lower appendage." Steve frowns.

"Come on pal you're telling me it didn't stir something in you seeing her do that?" Bucky asks, grabbing your hand.

"I'm fine Stevie, I- being turned on is a much more positive reaction to me chopping someone's fingers off than I would've expected." You shrug.

"Wait you're- you're okay with it?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's better than you being freaked out by it." You say.

"Definitely not freaked out." Bucky mutters kissing up your shoulder. You relax against his ministrations, enjoying the way his lips feel on your skin.

"That's a relief." You chuckle breathily.

"Buck-" Steve starts to roll his eyes but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you, kissing him to stop whatever scolding he was about to give Bucky.

"Alright pal now that she's given you the green light, fess up. I know you better than anyone else, don't pretend you weren't thinking about bending her over when she took that loser's fingers like that." Bucky says, he's stopped littering your throat with kisses to taunt Steve, but his thumb is stroking the back of your neck as he speaks. Steve pulls away from your kiss to answer him.

"I was thinking about what an absolutely perfect queen she'll make." Steve says.

"Won't she?" Bucky smirks.

"Oh flattery like that will get you everywhere." You say with a small giggle.

"Right now I'm hoping it'll get us inside of you." Bucky says.

"Now that's a wish I'm only too happy to grant." You hum.

"Yeah?" He smirks.

"Absolutely." You match his cheeky smile with one of your own.

"Come here, pretty girl." Bucky hoists you off of the couch into a bridal carry. Steve kisses you once more before Bucky carries you up to their bedroom with Steve behind you. When Bucky tosses you onto the bed, Steve immediately pulls you into another kiss.

"Are you sure you wanna do this now princess? You know you can always tell us to stop if-"

"Steve stop talking!" You huff out, cutting him off. He blinks at you with a frown on his face.

"Y/n." Bucky's eyebrows knit together at your sharpness.

"I've had a very shitty 15 hours and I don't want to think about it anymore. Please. I am going to be okay just- distract me." You explain with a sigh.

"Happy to sunshine but, don't forget we love you. Sometimes we'll worry." Bucky says softly.

"I know. You can worry all you want- later. But right now I need my mind on something else." You say. Bucky nods and tugs your pants and underwear off in one go. His lips trail kisses starting at one knee and working up but he skips the place you need him most to repeat the trail up the other leg. The moment Bucky's tongue swipes through your slick folds, Steve drowns your moans with a kiss so fierce you can't breathe. Bucky wraps his lips around your clit, licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves. Your hips thrust up against his ministrations and one of his arms comes up to lay heavy across your waist, holding you down.

"Steady doll. Gotta stay still for me." He grumbles between your legs. When two of his thick fingers slide into your entrance and curl upwards you're forced to break away from Steve's kiss, your head thrown back at the feeling of his digits working you open. Steve uses the moment to take your shirt off and unhook your bra, turning his attention to your newly exposed skin. He litters your chest with blooms of red while his fingers toy with your hardened nipples. Between the two sets of hands and lips, your head is spinning with pleasure and you can feel your release building quickly.

"G-guys I'm- fuck, oh my god. I'm gonna-" you struggle to pant out a full thought with their overwhelming touch.

"You gonna cum for us princess? Go ahead baby, you know how much we love it when you fall apart." Steve coaxes, taking your earlobe between his teeth. Your back arches as your orgasm hits, as if his words were the key to a door that wouldn't open on its own. "Good girl." Steve hums when you take in a shuddering breath.

"You taste so fucking good sunshine." Bucky mutters kissing up your abdomen.

"You tell me every time." You chuckle.

"You disagreeing with me?" He quirks an eyebrow at you making you laugh harder. "Steve? Second opinion?" Bucky turns to Steve.

"I think I need a fresh taste test before I weigh in." Steve nods, effectively ending your giggle fit as he and Bucky shift accordingly, Steve kneeling between your legs and Bucky moving onto the bed beside you.

"Wait, Bucky stand up. I wanna blow you." You tell him. He lets out a groan.

"You don't have to tell me twice." He says standing up and shoving his pants down his legs quickly. Steve huffs out a laugh before diving into your heat. Your mouth drops open with a moan as his tongue laps at your pussy. When it comes to most things, Bucky and Steve have very different styles of approach, between your legs though, both men devour you like their final meal- you sometimes wonder if they discuss what they do to you to determine what works best, but you only allow yourself a second to relish in Steve's tongue as Bucky is standing at attention beside you. You take Bucky into your mouth, bobbing your head along his length eagerly. Bucky's head falls back with a groan as you work him.

"Fuck, feels so good doll." He mutters. Just then, Steve wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly making you moan around Bucky. Your hips jerk when Steve slides two fingers into you and you struggle to keep sucking Bucky's dick as Steve pulls you towards another orgasm.

"Let go for me baby." Steve mutters against you, tongue lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You have to pull off of Bucky entirely when your release hits this time around, your body spasming uncontrollably.

"That's it doll, so pretty." Bucky hums, stroking your hair soothingly as he sits on the edge of the bed beside you.

"Gotta say, tastes better every time." Steve nods and you let out a breathless chuckle.

"You two, are ridiculous." You shake your head.

"How ya feeling sunshine?" Bucky asks.

"Good. Ready for y'all to fuck me." You say.

"Someone's insatiable." He laughs positioning himself against the headboard and lifting you onto his lap.

"Yeah and whose fault is that?" You wink. Bucky rolls his eyes but there's a smile on his face that keeps yours in place. At least until Bucky shifts you again, positioning himself at your entrance and pulling you down on him. You let out a shuddering moan as you adjust to the sudden intrusion, Bucky groaning at the way your walls pulse around him.

"Are you implying that we're responsible for this?" Steve laughs kissing your shoulder.

"Absolutely. You spoil me. I have expectations now." You say.

"Expectations, huh?" Bucky smirks, settling his hands on your hips.

"Obviously." You nod.

"Obviously." Steve scoffs. "Well Buck, let's keep those expectations high, aye."

"Was thinking the same thing." Bucky winks over your shoulder. He shifts below you, before lifting you up to bring you back down against him as he thrusts up. You cry out as Bucky takes you like that, fucking up into you and forcing you down on him. He keeps it up for several minutes before stopping, at which point you're reeling from pleasure. "Alright sunshine, we're gonna try something. Stop us if it gets too much." Bucky tells you. You should probably ask what the thing is but you're too busy trying to catch your breath so you just nod as Bucky pulls you forward to lie against his chest. Steve shifts behind you, his hands grabbing your hips firmly. You gasp and jolt slightly when you feel the head of Steve's dick poking at your already stuffed pussy.

"Wait a second there's no way you'll both fit." You say.

"Yeah we will, just relax for us baby." Bucky kisses your temple.

"Stop us if you need to princess but I think you can take it. You are perfect for us after all." Steve says rocking forward slowly, working himself in beside Bucky. You focus hard on breathing through the definitely too intense stretch of them both. When Steve eventually bottoms out, the two of them hold incredibly still, kissing reachable parts of your skin as they allow you to adjust. After a few moments, you start to squirm against them.

"Move. Please." You breathe out. They take a second to get leverage and then both of them are thrusting into you harshly. They sort out their rhythm almost immediately and all you can do is moan as Bucky and Steve fuck you together.

"Knew you could take us both. Such a good girl for us." Steve huffs out between thrusts, his breath hot in your ear. You whimper out an incoherent response.

"Aw Steve I think she's gone a bit cockdrunk on us." Bucky taunts, taking in the way your eyes are glazing over.

"Think so? Good. She wanted not to think anymore after all." Steve says. You can hear them, but their conversation falls to your ears muted, so overwhelmed that you're struggling to process anything other than the drag of their dicks along your walls.

"F-fuck I, I'm gonna- oh god." Your whiny pant isn't even a complete thought, but it's the best you're able to get out so blissed out from the way Steve and Bucky fuck you.

"Gonna cum for us sweetheart? Gonna soak our fucking dicks like a good girl?" Bucky coos at you mockingly.

"Please. Please. Please. please please please please." Your broken pleas are the only response you can offer teetering so close to the edge you can practically taste it.

"Go ahead princess, cum on our dicks, show us how good we fuck you baby." Steve says, kissing your neck. Their words along with their pace send you over the edge with a cry of their names into an orgasm so strong it's blinding. You're shaking so hard they have to tighten their hold on you as they chase their own ends. It doesn't take long for them to spill into you either, Bucky first with an expletive on his lips and Steve right after with a long moan that sends shivers down your spine. Between the two of them it's too much and you can feel their release leaking out of you. For a few moments nobody moves, it's still and silent aside from heavy breathing. Steve pulls out first and you whine when he does. "We gotta get you cleaned up princess." Steve says in response to your protesting grumble while Bucky soothes you with kisses all over your face. You watch as he walks into the bathroom and you can faintly hear the tub running. After some time, how long? Who knows, Steve returns.

"Alright sunshine. We're gonna get in the bath now." Bucky tells you. You don't have the energy to argue but you do whine again when he, with Steve's help, lifts you off of him to carry you to the bathroom. The plus side of this is when Bucky does place you in their too big jacuzzi bathtub the water is so warm you practically melt into it. Steve and Bucky take their time washing you up, gentle hands and a soft washcloth glide over your skin like it's the only thing that matters to them as they whisper promises of love and adoration and you swear you've never felt safer than in this moment.

It's incredible how what started as an anonymous gift at the mall/two overly complimentary strangers ended with you here. You're not sure loved is a strong enough word to describe how they make you feel.

***

Part 12/12

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