#yet which you keep dragging along like dead weight

[minotaurblood]

i was wondering where the complete and utter university-related suicidal despair was since it's been surprisingly mild, considering. there it is! just had to wait for art history classes to start a week later than my other ones

[oreo-creampie]

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢; “𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭” & “𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! brat!reader, outdoor sex, teacher/student, soft knife play (no cutting or blood), sanemi is rude af but still soft spot for you he will deny having, light praise (he can't help it you're gorgeous babe), light spanking

Laying flat on the spongy moss with only your hands-free. Sanemi sits on your thighs, with a firm grasp on your hair, holding a knife to your neck. The submissive position is more of a turn-on than it should be. Clouding your thoughts with lewd fantasy.

He lightly drags the knife across your neck. "You're dead I win!" You moan, sucking in a shaky breath. You're about to explain yourself when Sanemi drags the knife's tip down your side.

He grinds his cock on your squishy cheeks. "You're wriggling so much, moaning like a bitch in heat underneath me." He pulls away, keeping your thighs pinned and slapping your ass.

You speak with your pussy, "Fuck me at knifepoint, use my cunt as your reward for winning. I can take it any way you want, need your cock." Heating floods your body, biting into your bottom lip. He drags the tip of the knife along the curve of your butt cheek.

Sanemi slips the tip of the blade underneath your tight shorts. "Wouldn't that be a reward for you too?" He slices your shorts off. "Do you think you deserve this? After your piss-poor sparring job." Ripping your shorts off the rest of the way.

You furrow your brows, huffing, "I worked hard training! I'm getting better! Maybe a little encouragement to work harder would be a better way of teaching." You freeze when Sanemi glides the tip slowly between your wet lips.

He scoffs, "No panties for your beautiful wet slutty cunt?" He turns the blade flat, rubbing your clit. "Should have expected that from a perverted brat." Your hot cunt clenches from the cool metal.

One quick move from Sanemi is all it would take. But the utter trust you have in the man pinning you down prevents you from being scared.

You smirk. "Fuck it outta me then." Sanemi pulls the knife away, and seconds later he groans,

"You're lucky you taste so fuckin' good. I have something to do after this. "I want you naked on my bed with your legs open for me to bury my frustrations. We'll see who outlasts who." He moves to the side, rolling you over onto your back.

He stands up, pushing his baggy pants down. Your soaking wet cunt throbbing at the glorious sight of Sanemi standing naked in the light of the setting sun. His veiny, thick hard cock is wet with pre-cum.

"Your cock versus my sass might become my new favorite fight. But who knows you might not know how to use your fat cock." You spread your leg when Sanemi kneels in front of you. He grabs his cock, smacking your plush lips and fat clit.

Sanemi lines himself up, parting your wet lips, and nudging your clenching hole. "Right now, I don't give a fuck if you cum. If you cum, you cum, if you don't, not my problem." He grabs your left thigh, pinning it to your side with his weight.

He uses his strength Sanemi roughly ruts his hips forward into your tight soaking cunt. "I can see the beautiful face you make when cumming later tonight. Because I know you're going to want more." Your body jolts, your cunt clenching, Sanemi trembles above you, groaning,

"This isn't a reward for you. It's mine for having to put up with your annoying ass all damn day." Sanemi's pace is steady, yet harsh.

His cock head hitting your spongy cervix. "Shit you feel too damn good, going to make me cum too fast." Your sink your nails into his forearm, splaying your fingers on his sculpted abs. Which flexes beneath your palm with every quick, rough thrust.

You whine, "Fuck! Fuck!" You're scrambling to comprehend the intense, mind-breaking pleasure. Your toes curl from the delicious burn of your tight unprepared cunt stretching for his, fat cock.

He grabs the knife, slicing through your compressional top. "Scream louder for me, princess let the whole damn forest know you're getting fucked." Lightly pressing the knife's tip to your chin, Sanemi kisses your forehead.

"Say red I'll stop, take you to mine, and clean you up." He leans back, dragging the knife down your neck, over your collarbone. "You're doing so good taking my fat cock in your poor little cunt."

strawberry brat all works

[mychlapci]

Thinking about Pharma stuffed full of mer Tarn's eggs again aughhhhh /dead

His frame feels so heavy and clumsy. Flight frames are almost never meant to carry any extra weight or bulk on them. He has to waddle with his hand on his swollen belly, and even then he can really only walk a few steps. It's embarrassing.

I don't know what he tells his coworkers?? Maybe he frames it as an accident. The monster dragged him in, obviously, as you can see on the security footage. Its not like he went and fragged the thing. Clearly. So maybe they take pity on him (still embarrassing) and give him some concessions at work. Which honestly sucks cos he WANTS to work. He doesn't want to be laying here. Useless.

Somehow he convinces the team to let him run his own medical scans. He would rather keep track of his gestation himself. He scans those eggs to keep track of what monstrosities are growing inside him. Maybe there's something wrong with him, but along with the disgust that comes with seeing the scans is also a distinct shiver that goes down his spinal struts. The overloads thay were wrung out of his frame as he was stuffed full of those eggs still echo in his processor.

He runs his servo over his rounded belly and then gently applies some pressure. As the armour plates shift, he can just vaguely feel the smaller bumps of each egg. The pressure pushes against his plugged up valve and he squirms slightly. Being full of eggs certainly shouldn't be arousing him... but the pressure on his array is doing something to him.

It's purely out of curiosity- obviously- as he pulls his pedes up onto the examination berth, clicks his panels open, and gently runs his digits over his valve. He prods at the soft substance plugging his valve port, wiggling when that pressure against his full forge sends another wave of pleasure up his struts. He watches the scans as he prods at it again, watching the round shapes of the eggs shift around slightly.

His digits graze over his node next, making him roll his hips and pinch his node. The weird pressure on his valve has his node already engorged and sensitive.

It's a shame his valve is plugged. He could use some lubricant.

He brings his digits to his intake and sucks. A finger on either side of his glossa as he licks and covers them with oral solvent. It'll have to do.

Those wet digits come back to his twitching node soon after. He doesn't... usually self service much, let alone with just his node, but he immediately takes to rubbing his fingers over the nub, clenching his denta as he bucks his hips against his servo. It must be the weird pressure from all the eggs. The heat blooms from his array and up towards his torso.

It's stupid how he groans and pants and rolls his hips against his own servo, practically scrubbing over his node with his digits.

When the overload hits him, his joints and actuators stutter, but he continues to rub jerky circles around his node. His frame screams at him to shutter his optics, but he forces them open, vision locked on the scanner screen, watching the eggs shift and squish slightly inside of him as his gestation tank clenches and shudders in pleasure.

His servo eventually slows as he comes down from the overload, his hips stuttering and array too sensitive to keep touching. He lets out a sigh and flops onto his back, laying on the cold berth. His optics wander back to the screen. The eggs still sit perfectly in his forge.

hgrhh... god. What really gets me is that the plug Tarn left in him is so thick that Pharma can’t even lubricate through it. When his valve tries to get wet, the plug just absorbs it and he’s left with a hot yet dry pussy... It just makes him more desperate... This whole pregnancy is just fully messing with his brain.

[moon-is-a-cryptid]

Like dynamite

⭐️pairing: Bakugou katsuki x F!Reader

⭐️CW: fluffy, mentions of pregnancy from another fic

⭐️Type and A/N: adult au!, kinda a ‘when they met’ of Lavender and honey, same stuff as the reader has tattoos and piercings

Dividers used brought to you by: @cafekitsune 🥰(they have really cute dividers check them out 😩)

Katsuki walked with Kirishima on their normal patrol, his usual scowl seemed angrier than usual. Kirishima being the one to blame for that “Come on Kats you need to put yourself out there! Go on a date for once would ya?” Kirishima elbowed Katsuki making Katsuki huff. He had never been one for romance and hadn’t really thought about it until Kirishima had brought it up earlier in the week, how Katsuki needed to find someone to keep him out of the office so much. To which Katsuki brushed off saying he wasn't interested. But in all reality, it started to set in for Katsuki, especially when he came home to a dead quiet house only to lay lonely in his bed wishing he had someone there to hold, talk about his day with and eat dinner with.

These thoughts stewed in Katsukis brain as Kirishima continued on listing potential dates for Katsuki when in the distance Kirishima and Katsuki hear music and cheering. Looking at each other quizzically Kirishima asks “was there an event we were unaware of?” “not that i know of” Katsuki gruffs out “lets go check it out to be safe” Kirishima b-lined towards the noise Katsuki not far behind him.

What they come to is a crowd of people in the middle of the park with a pretty decent opening in the middle “What the hell is this? A mosh pit?” katsuki whispered to Kirishima, who only shrugged in response. They stood there in the crowd until the music starts playing again and someone speaks out “This one is a request since we have pro heroes dynamite and RedRiot In the crowd today” The song Dynamite by BTS playing over the speakers no movement is made until you make your way to the middle and start to dance the choreographed routine, people slowly made their way to join you but katsuki was only watching you move to the beat. Wearing one of his brand Dynamite workout tank tops and some workout shorts, the tank top shows off your colorful yet dull from fading tattooed arms and your hair is braided back showing off your pierced-up ears and gauges and a little gauntlet tattoo behind your ear. You donned snakebites, a bride piercing and an eyebrow piercing all orange spike from your skin. Katsuki was stunned by you as you took charge of the dance and mouthed along to the words. Kirishima placed his hand on Katuskis's shoulder “seems i dont have to set up a blind date for you Huh?” Kirishima snickered into his ear making Katsuki turn towards him with a glare as the music died down and cheers ensued.

You make your way through the crowd to your bag and water bottle as you sit down to take a few gulps and play on your phone, the sunlight that was beaming on you soon turns to shadows as Katsuki approaches. You smile up at him “hey Dynamite and RedRiot! You two enjoy the show?” you say wiping away sweat from your forehead. “Yeah we did! Whats your name? We might want some entertainment at the agency for an office party!” Kirishima smiles his signature toothy grin. “Y/n L/n but please just call me Y/n” you stand up taking your bag and bottle “i don’t usually do show for money but if you need some lessons id be no charge for our Pro’s” you nod to the Crowd cheering on a new dance “this is all for fun, I run a dance studio over on the main drag through town” Katsuki steps in “you got a card or something so we can contact you some time, im sure the sidekicks would enjoy some dancing lessons” his voice different from what you had heard on TV and through articles, he was calmer but the shifting of weight from one leg to another let on he was nervous about something. “Oh well i dont have any business card but-” you pulled out a pen and grabbed Katsukis arm, scribbling down on his Bicep he watched as a pink flush spread across your cheeks “here is my personal number, feel free to text me at any time, im usually up at most hours” you smiled letting go of his arm. Katsuki looked down at the number before pulling out his phone to place it in his contacts. “Well im sure you two need to be back on patrol. Ill be looking for your messaged” You waved and turned to make your way towards the main drag. Kirishima waves you off as Katsuki is typing away on his phone “i think you may have scored man” Kirishima turns towards Katsuki as they continue on their patrol.

Later in the evening, you're shutting off the lights to your studio at 9:30 pm as the last of your dance groups leave when a ‘ping’ goes off from your phone giving it a glace

Unknown:

Hey. its katsuki

You responded with a simple hey, as the texts went on you two texted throughout the days, meet ups for coffee and walks in the park included. Little did you know that those days spend texting would lead to you one day making Lavender Honey bread at 1 am, while carrying the first son of katsuki Bakugou.

Tag list 🏷️: @meggsngrits

Masterlist📝

Should I do a date scenario with this? I think this little ‘Katsuki has an alternative styled wife’ series thing I’ve got going on is fun 🥰

[blackjackkent]

Moving past the weird terrifying door, we fought some more of Ethel's playthings controlled by weird masks. (We had the option to loot and, presumably, wear these, but that seems like a terrible idea.)

One of them, somewhat depressingly, was carrying this:

Yeah, I don't think that worked out very well. :(

This was followed by a fun little obstacle course around a bunch of noxious gasses which cost everyone a bunch of HP, but finally we've made it to the "Ancient Abode" - and look who it is!

Whoohoo, we found her, and she's not dead! (Yet, anyway.)

Ethel, needless to say, is NOT happy we're here.

"you come to my home, interfere in my business, and now have the gall to face me in the heart of my lair? You petulant bollocks. I'll rip your spine out your arsehole! I'll use your blood to spice my stew! I'll keep you alive until I've sucked the marrow from your bones! And then I'll bring you back and do it all over again!"

Hector, show us how you feel about this.

Damn right.

This turned out to be a bit of an annoying battle. Ethel had the ability to disguise and duplicate herself and used it several times, and there was an additional threat for a while of Mayrina's cage burning and getting dropped into a pit. But we whittled her down.

She tried to make a deal with the group (specifically Karlach, who happened to get the conversation for some reason), offering an ability score increase in return for letting her go with Mayrina and her unborn child.

Obviously Karlach (and everyone else) was not letting that happen, so we finished her off.

Mayrina...surprisingly, does not seem particularly grateful for this effort on her behalf.

"You bastard! You ruined it - you ruined everything!"

Hector, covered in blood, soot, acid burns, and a general air of exhaustion, just stares at her and slow blinks for a few moments. "This is an interesting way of thanking me," he finally says.

"You want thanks?" Mayrina screeches. "A slap is all you deserve! Ethel was going to bring my husband back. Back from the dead! And now I'll never see him again - because of you."

Ah.

Hector frowns. "Hags don't work for free. What did you promise her?"

"This." Mayrina looks down at her swollen belly. She's very far along; her back is hunched with the weight of it. There's a sort of mad desperation in her eyes. "Just a bit longer and my child would have been born. And all this - all this would have been over."

Hector swallows. Selune's grace...what a terrible bargain. He has certainly had no shortage of naive mistakes himself, out here in the world away from the monastery, but even he can see that this could not possibly have ended well. "With hags, nothing is ever over," he says bluntly.

"This was the best chance I had, for me *and* my baby," Mayrina insists. "Auntie Ethel promised to give this child a good life - teach them magic, even! More than I could have done."

Hector feels a surge of compassion for the young woman. Clearly she felt trapped in her existing situation - husband dead, left to raise a child alone in what must have been less than affluent circumstances. The hag's promises must have sounded quite enticing. But there was also no doubt they were false. "Is that what Ethel told you?"

Mayrina just stares at him for a long moment. "She said I'd make a bad mother. I-- I think she was right." She turns away, beginning to stalk deeper into the cave. "Now I'll have to drag Connor's coffin all the way home. It's the only way this child will ever meet their father. I hope you're happy."

----

Hector watches her walk away and sags wearily, running a hand down his face. "Did I do the wrong thing?" he asks, not really expecting an answer.

"You 'n I both know that hag would have done terrors 'n worse to her," Karlach grunts matter-of-factly. "Better this way." A pause. "You're all right, Soldier. We had to stop her. Wouldn't be you - wouldn't be us - if we left her to that fate."

Hector takes this in for a long moment, then forces himself to straighten up, squaring his shoulders. "Yes. Yes, you're right, of course. Of course."

"Besides," Gale adds darkly, "she's not that creature's only victim. There are a lot of souls that will be able to move on to some more verdant pasture because she's dead. And I think we can all agree that's a worthwhile outcome."

[nixalegos]

A Lordly Disagreement

Somewhere on Val

The brazier was fed another limb, a sacrifice that let the enchanted bowl flare anew with hellish green life saving heat, a respite against the numbness trying to kill the hooded man. There was ironically, no shortage of fuel to burn on the icy hellscape. One merely needed to crack the still frozen prisons of invaders past and pry it off the corpse inside.

Even the chill of Icecrown, in the darkest deepest graves would have seemed sweltering in comparison to the nearly absolute zero the Sin'dorei warlock trundled. Every step between those barely maintained bowls a killing ground. Even a handful of seconds too long, a weakness in the ice, a slip of footing would doom him.

Corpses' of once heroes, prey, and even a few illidari lingered like statues in the canyon in which he pulled himself forward. Down, past the sightlines what few reinforced strongholds above held bickering generals and would be inquisitors, trapped while the Legion recoiled from the staggering loss of Argus and their Titans. No way to leave, and with nothing left to conquer.

He was not here to see any of them. Down along the basin of a chasm too wide to really block the wind, to the yawning cave entry he'd travelled across worlds and risked becoming a popsicle for.

The cavern blocked the wind, but it did little to prevent the killing cold. More ice blocks containing dead mortals and lesser demons alike had been pulled inside the demons lair, dragged perhaps, as scraps along the caverns floor made clear. Kept as trophies, and grim warnings both.

With near frozen hands, he reached back, unslinging a rifle like contraption that wasn't one, and made his way deeper inside while checking the engineering gadgets 'ready' panel still glowed green. At least within the cavern, it was only a matter of freezing in a few minutes, instead of seconds. He barely had that.

The acknowledgement of his arrival was a thundering cavern shaking charge from the dark. The furious annihilan boasting a club, spiked like a shado-pan legbreaker, only twice the size of the man it was being swung at. Even if the demon missed, the trampling weight of the immense destroyer would have smeared him across the ice.

Club and belly both crashed down to the sound of ice and ground shattering and cracking, and the musical note of bones splintering yes, and yet, there was no sensation of heat tickling the underbelly of the beast, no last warm sprays of blood. No kill.

The demon turned to the sound of a voice, where one of its past and frozen trophies was suddenly NOT there, as the tiny insignificant intruder vented the aetheric discharge of the strange gun it must of used moments before being clobbered.

"TRIGMIMIN!" The mortal said as loud as it could, and this, gave the Pit Lord pause from simply turning and charging again. He'd never heard a mortal use its name before. Just screams. "I've come to bargain!" To which the demon snarled and swung its terrible club down in frustrations, demolishing what had been left of the shattered corpse.

"You mock me. Bargain? You have nothing to offer." It said, studying the little hooded thing now curiously. It had time to play with its next meal. "I know you were forced into these wastes, living in squalor while those in the strongholds above call you the shamed. I barely had to trade the inquisitors for that fact, it was considered too commonly known." The mortal taunted.

The Pit Lord snarled and bellowed as it charged again, its bulk crushing a stalagmite and another frozen trophy with its bulk as the warlock once more swapblastered his position with that of the dead.

"You long for conflict, but you're stuck here, frustrated, alone, expected to freeze and rot as your power is wasted keeping the braziers here lit. I can change that." The soon to be SMEAR suggested.

"I will never be BOUND!" The demon said in fury. The AUDACITY to think HE could be bound like some imp! The demon reared back, letting his full weight crash down, and his legs spread like a runner taking its mark, a sure sign he was about to charge again. The demon's mouth twisted into a devious grin, let him use his little trick for the third time, there was only a handful of corpses left, as soon as he charged, he'd simply FLING his club at the one not obscured by the bulk of his charge.

"Would you rather be bound to this tomb then, than be the only Pit Lord on Val being fed tribute?"

The bulk of him carried by its four legs in a leaping push off that dug furrows into the caverns floor, his arms swinging the club back and FLUNG its terrible weapon and cudgel towards the rightmost ice statue. Stand still, run, or swap, the warlock was dead in the pit lords gambi- The impact of his own club to his chest blew the triumphant war bellow from its lungs. So unexpected in fact, it tripped over its own front feet, and its head impacted the wall of its own cavern as it crashed and skidded.

The warlock had swapped with the flung club, careened into the ice block with momentum equalizing between himself and the flung, but it was far less a damaging impact than being pulverized and bludgeoned, the swapblaster rifle crushed between the warlocks armor and the impact with the ice. He'd tossed the now ruined pieces away and struggled much like the brute did against the wall.

"Why be SHAMED when you could be the Usurer of Val?" The warlock said as he pushed himself up and away from the ice, only managing to slip once on his shaking limbs.

Trigmimin snarled, head still reeling from the utter blunder of his charge, pushing the club off his own cracked armor plate. "Usurer?" It said, at last listening while its head still buzzed from the blossoming pain.

"The ethereals of the Nether use slivers of the soul as currency." "Bah, those wrapped nothings. You can't pay me in slivers." It said as it recovered to its full height. "Plated in titanium and chromium. Full coinage. You keep the soul. You keep the metal those above use for their fortresses, melt it, make it your own, barter it."

"In exchange for what." The demon said with a low hungry voice.

"When I need your might swung, you swing. Not bound, appeased. Let the others hear that you alone are being paid for. You alone can dole out payment and make good on wagers. You alone are getting to whet their weapon with blood that isn't frozen." The warlock said as rolled his shoulders.

"You would play Kingmaker." The Pit Lord said.

"Mannaroth is dead. Why not be paid to take their throne?"

"And in exchange, I need merely avail myself to the joy of battle?" The Pit Lord asked.

Nixalegos smiled up at the terrible beast. "We need merely work out the details."

[aristocratic-otter]

Hello, Y'all. Thank you, @bookish-bogwitch, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @erzbethluna, @hushed-chorus, @artsyunderstudy, @stardustasincocaine, @cutestkilla, @nightimedreamersghost, @whogaveyoupermission, @ileadacharmedlife, @larkral, @facewithoutheart, @confused-bi-queer, @palimpsessed, @johnwgrey, @moodandmist for the tags on Today and Sunday. I've read some of y'all's work, but not all of it yet, I'm sorry😥.

I normally require myself to read everyone's amazing posts before I post my own, but I just found out I've been exposed to COVID, I'm feeling a little symptom-y (all in my head? Maybe), and I've been dying to share a bit of my new WIP, but I'm too tired to keep reading tonight. I promise, I'll get to reading and commenting on all of y'all's lovely work!

It's tentatively titled 'The Fall of Simon Snow', but that's very tentative, as I think there may already be a fic in fandom called that. But oh well, I've got plenty of writing to do before I have to decide.

The premise is that the War starts at the beginning of that winter break in CO, so chapter 61 never happens, and the old families launch their offensive during that scene in the white chapel in CO. Before the bit I'm sharing, our three heroes have been magically knocked out by invading old family representatives just after the Mage is killed.

The old families are not inclined to be charitable to Simon.

Beginning under the cut for length:

Baz

Simon’s magic is flowing out from him in thick, nauseating waves. The Humdrum is absorbing most of it; the boy is flickering in and out of existence beneath Simon’s hands, which have a death grip on the Humdrum’s shoulders. Bunce has fallen to her knees beside me, clutching her stomach. I struggle to get to Simon, but I can’t force my legs to move. 

~~*~~

I wake up, head throbbing, in the backseat of Fiona’s MG. I’m disoriented. Did…did all of that happen? Where’s Simon? And Penelope? How did I get here? Is everyone else dead?

“Where’s Simon?” I force out through trembling lips. 

Fiona startles and turns to look at me, and I wince, because she takes her hands entirely off of the steering wheel to do so. She takes in my state and then shakes her head. “Where’s Simon?” I repeat, with greater force. 

Fiona turns her back to me again and, to my relief, puts her hands back on the steering wheel. “Not your concern, nor mine, boyo,” she says tightly. 

“Fuck that!” I snarl. “What’s going on?”

“I’m taking you home, Basil. And that’s all you need to know right now.”

“The hell you are,” I mutter. She’s got the MG’s top down. She’s always got the top down. I think she likes how dramatic it makes her look, with her hair flowing behind her like a black flag with a white stripe. I glance over the side and calculate my chances. As per usual, she’s traveling above the speed limit. But the road we're on is gravel, so she’s exercising some caution—probably only crunching along at 40 miles an hour. 

I know I’ll survive the fall. I just want to be prepared for how much it’s going to hurt. 

I gather my courage, and then slip my seatbelt buckle free and vault over the side of the car like a gymnast jumping over the pommel horse. I hit the ground and hear an unpleasant crack from my ankle, and then momentum tumbles me over.

Once I stop somersaulting, I drag myself grimly to my feet. I barely notice the screeching of brakes behind me as I test my ankle to see if it will hold my weight. It will, barely. I set off running…well, limping. 

The last thing I hear is Fiona’s voice, shouting, “Rockabye Baby!”

Simon

Cold. 

I can’t remember the last time I felt cold.

Wait…yes I can. Sixth year. Baz’s forged note and the snow demons. That was cold. 

This is colder.

Tags and hellos and wishing you all a healthy Wednesday, @angelsfalling16, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @basiltonbutliketheherb, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @fight-surrender, @foolofabookwyrm-activated, @giishu, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @frjsti, @krisrix, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @technetiumai, @tea-brigade, @urban-sith, @whatevertheweather, @yellobb-old, @yeonjunenby

[v4mpyrebat]

Love From The Other Side - Chapter 1

Hey VT fandom I know you’ve been hungry, so I decided to start writing again. If you like Billion Year War, multiverse theory, space and time travel and lots of making side characters important than this is just the fic for you!

Fic is located under the cut, but if you’d prefer I’ve also posted it on AO3, and I’d appreciate if you reblogged or gave some kudos! ENJOY!

The night was dark and unforgiving, as the sand that blew through the wind dusted the air and tainted the oxygen. Not as if the oxygen wasn’t already toxic, though by now those whose lungs hadn’t adapted had been long dead and gone. One gets used to the constant scratchy feeling in the back of their throat, as breathing feels 5 pounds heavier than it once did in one’s memory.

A figure stood lonesome at the end of a street, the handkerchief wrapped around their face doing little to stop the coarse, dry feeling in their mouth, serving more as to disguise their identity. The only sound they dared utter was to clear their throat, a congested rumble that sounded almost painful if done too often. A knife remained in their hand, which rested actively at their side, the grip tight and unwavering. Their clothes hung loosely on their body – looking about as unkempt as anyone else did in this environment — with tattered fabric that was stained with different hues of brown and deep auburn.

Their breathing was shallow yet heavy at the same time as if every intake of oxygen was more exhaustive than the last. They stumbled forward, the grip on the blade in their hand tightening as each slow and calculated step was taken. Continuing down the road, they neglected to look at their surroundings as their eyes locked onto something down from the end of the road. The rest of the scenery was irrelevant anyways, as once you’ve seen the same dilapidated and burnt-out city buildings about a thousand times, it loses any luster one could possibly ever have held for it.

The road was missing chunks of asphalt and full of potholes. As the figure dragged his feet along the pavement, the being of interest began to rear its ugly head as it awoke from its slumber.

Under the figure’s handkerchief mask, an unseen grin parted the lips of the future assailant’s mouth, revealing the sharp, grotesque, and uncared-for teeth hidden under the forgiving fabric that covered their face. The angry whirring as the tripod scrambled up off the ground was music to the figure’s ears, as the creature’s gangly legs stomped and dug into the sand in order to support itself.  

The canon apparatus held under the abdomen of the tripod fired up, shooting rapidly at the figure's feet. This was a game to them, a tango to be danced as the figure gained speed towards the creature, running in a zig-zag motion to avoid the free fire of the attack quickly. Under the ear-bleeding vocalizations and ballistic shockwave that filled the areas was the eerie sound of the figure’s laugh. This was funny to them.

Oh, but the humorous part was yet to come, as once the figure had approached the tripod, they dashed to its left side, grabbing hold of its leg as they began to hoister themselves up. Making sure to avoid the sharp thorned parts of its limb, the person dodged the fire of the creature’s canon and ignored the loud howls of dismay erupted from the tripod. Hoisting themselves up, the figure positioned their feet strategically as they climbed up the long appendage, using the entirety of their upper body strength whilst doing so – somehow also managing to keep their knife in hand as well.

The tripod staggered from the weight of the human on its leg, its body moving in panicked ways as its canon fired in every direction with no particular target. This person knew what they were doing, easily overwhelming the simple alien as they were much easier to deal with when not only caught off guard but when on their lonesome.

Here came the tricky part – sliding off the leg and in a swift movement, the figure launched itself up onto the creature's “head”, their grip faltering for barely a moment before they were able to latch on. They held onto the tripod’s top, fingers having a tight grip on the underside of the hard carapace shell that protected the brain of the alien. Despite being about 40 feet in the air, the person had absolutely no fear, swinging forward using the momentum of the thrashing creature in order to pull themselves in front of the creature's head, hanging over the side of its exoskeleton.

With nothing but a smile, the figure took the knife held so tightly within their grip and raised it up in their arm, a guttural, inaudible laugh exiting their body as the weapon was slammed down into the exposed sensitive area of the tripod’s head, slicing right through any protective layers and splitting right into its brain. Yellow blood sprayed rapidly, splashing into the figure's face as they slammed the knife down a few more times for good measure. Afterward, they grabbed back hold of the carapace and pulled themselves back onto the hard area, keeping their body stable as the tripod screeched its ear-grating and painful final yelps.

The tripod’s three legs began to give out from under itself, shaking and bending in ways it was not developed for. They cracked and snapped like sticks and caused the entire body of the alien to shake before two of them fully broke off, causing the back side of the tripod to begin its fast plunge toward the unforgiving asphalt below.

In its dying moment, the guns of the monster fired like the last active neurons of a brain that have yet to fully give out. As the head of the beast fell through the air, the figure braced themselves for the eventual impact, the smile never leaving their face as they anticipated the familiar feeling – this was something they’d done countless times.

As the tripod hit the ground, sand rose around them in a storm cloud of dust, and the shock of the slam reverberated throughout the entire figure’s body and rattled their bones, sending a deep ache up their spinal cord and into their head.

The figure then flipped onto their back, breathing heavily as they relished in the feeling, allowing themselves to melt into the hard shell under their back. Yet, their ecstasy was short-lived, interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, followed directly by the cock of a gun.

“You’ve had your fun,” The figure didn’t even half to crane his neck up to know who was addressing them, the mature, grating, and whiney lisp-laced voice was enough to clue him in.

“Aww, five more minutes?” They whined in return, not even bothering to glance at the man as he stared dreamily up into the desolate sky.

Spencer was kind enough to walk into his field of vision, being even kinder and pointing a pistol right at him, the weapon rattling as it was directed at his forehead. “Enough, Ghost.”

Though addressing him directly, Spencer’s voice slightly wavered with the utterance of the name, as if he himself wasn’t entirely sure if that was who he was talking to.

“And if I don’t?” Ghost lifted his head, glaring sharply at the man above him.

Spencer scoffed, holding his gun steady as he used his free hand to rummage through the pockets of his thick brown trench coat, and once he located the item he was searching for, there was a moment of hesitation as he wrapped his fingers around said object, unbeknownst to Ghost.

“Well, I have something I believe you’ll want.”

[weministertomonsters]

Vampires (Daenyel & Renaya) x human female reader - Part 2

  You have an idea, but you're not liking what you have to do. Despite Daenyel saying everyone was dead, if miraculously one of your attackers isn't fully dead yet, you may have a source of blood at your disposal. But you're not going up the hill without some kind of weapon.

    Luckily, you know that Ms. Renaya always keeps a knife on her person. You brush your hand along her leg, searching for a knife strap. She doesn't react to your touch, which means she's really out of it. You find it on her thigh, and brush her dress up to grab the dagger sheathed there, wincing at the cuts which are sluggishly healing on her skin.

    Then, you pick yourself up and totter up the hill, blinking to try and clear your blurry vision. You approach Ms. Renaya's car cautiously. It's so mangled that you have no idea how she and Daenyel made it out alive. Her bodyguards weren't so lucky. One of them is hardly more than a pulp with one intact arm. The clan tattoo on his wrist is the only thing that identifies him as one of yours.

    You clamp a hand over your mouth and hastily turn away. The other bodyguard is riddled with bullet holes. From the hole in his skull, it looks like he died pretty quickly. Other dead bodies are piled around. Most of them have been killed vampire-style with slashed necks or gutted bodies or ripped limbs, a violent retaliation. There's nothing that makes a vampire more feral than a threat to their safety. You do your best not to look too closely. You skirt around the smoking car and hear a groan.

    You find a man under a chunky piece of metal that must have come from the car. He looks like he's pretty much in one piece, just stuck. Broken legs, maybe? You push against the metal and the man hollers in pain, his eyes flying open. You ignore him, shoving and pushing until the metal rolls off. One of his legs is broken, and bone jutting out of his shin. His feet are mushy patties in his boots. Blood has soaked into the ground around his flattened boots and it takes everything in you not to vomit.

    "I can do this," you tell yourself, crouching beside him.

    The man seems to guess what you're planning on doing because he groans through harsh breaths,

    "I'd rather die!"

    He snatches the dagger from you, intending on slitting his throat. You wrestle it away from him, crying out as a sharp edge slices across your palm. You slap him, distracting him enough to yank the dagger away and hold it out of reach.

    "You knew what could happen when you signed the contract, just like I did," you snap breathlessly. "I am sorry that it has to end like this for you, but I don't have much of a choice."

    You stand up and grab his arms. He struggles, but there's not much he can do but kick his ruined feet and shout curses as you drag him down the hill.

    "They are just using you! Once you're no longer useful to them, they'll drain you and throw you into an unmarked grave with the others," he babbles.

    "It's not such a big deal," you scoff, spitting a hank of your windblown hair out of your mouth. "Humans use each other all the time. And just like humans, not all vampires are like that."

    "It is in their nature," he groans. "Only The Order can save us from our inevitable doom."

    "What Order?" You ask sharply, but the man realizes he's said too much and presses his lips together, and refuses to say anything else.

    Finally, you reach your employer and her clan brother. Daenyel looks like he's worse off, so you drag your human blood bag toward him. The man weeps in terror. You have to stand over Daenyel and use your weight to yank the piece of wood out of his chest. It retracts with a sickening squelch, and Daenyel's eyes flicker open, ruby red and hungry.    

    You back away, and grab the man's arm. He's muttering some kind of prayer under his breath. You can't do this. The dagger shakes in your grip and your eyes blur with tears. Before you have to do it, however, Daenyel is shoving you out of the way and practically falling into the man, sinking his fangs into his neck.

    You look away and crawl over to your employer. Even now she looks beautiful. Your hand is already bleeding, so you brush it on your jeans and once it is as clean as it's going to get, you press it against her mouth, wincing as the pressure aggravates your injury and causes it to start bleeding again. You startle as she wakes up, eyes fluttering open. Unlike Daenyel, she doesn't go feral at the taste of blood.

    Her hand comes up and holds yours as her cold tongue laps delicately at the injury. With her other hand, she pulls you on top of her. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel it happening again as you accidentally fall into a trance-like state.

    You're acutely aware of her jutting hipbones pressing against yours, the soft press of her stomach, and the rise of her breasts as she breaths. Your head droops, bringing your face closer to her. Her eyes are stunning and you can't look away. At some point, she stopped feeding, probably when her saliva healed your wound. She's still holding your hand and her breath is an iron-scented flutter against your cheek. Her eyebrows draw together and she's about to ask you something when Daenyel's shadow falls over the two of you.

    The worst of his injury has healed into a pulsing partially closed wound, but he still needs blood. So does Ms. Renaya.

    "Dawn is coming," he says. "We must find shelter."

    Ms. Renaya sits up, letting your hand go.

    "Yes," she agrees. "We will discuss what to do later."

    "Should I go and get help? I can make it into town," you offer.

    "No, pet," Ms. Renaya says. "The walk is long and you may meet danger along the way. I'm not willing to risk that."

    "You care much for this mortal," Daenyel says, shaking out his dreadlocks so they fall over his shoulders.

    He lost the rubberband at some point.

    Ms. Renaya brushes past her brother. "Leave your speculations for a time when we won't be in imminent danger of burning," she says.

    The three of you make it up the hill and into the trees. You keep glancing nervously at your watch, but the two vampires don't need watches to sense the coming dawn. Their unease shows in every twitch in their step, every sweep of their eyes. It's a miracle that you find something that resembles a cave that is deep enough to protect a vampire from the sun. It's just enough. Ms. Renaya hesitates.

    "Brother, it would be good if we hunt before bedding down for the night," she says.

    Daenyel's fangs flash as he grins. "You used to hate it so when I would hunt so close to the sunrise."

    "This is different," Ms. Renaya snaps. "We cannot wake and drain Miss Pierce. Contrary to what you are thinking, she is very valuable to me."

    Daenyel looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. You look away and promptly trip on a tree root.

    "Sorry," you mumble. "You two can go ahead and hunt. I'll be waiting here."

    The two vampires move so fast that they almost seem to disappear into the trees. You glance at your watch one last time and walk into the cave. It's too small for you to stand properly, so you crouch and brush away loose twigs and rocks so that at least the floor is clean of debris. You settle cross-legged and pick nervously at the dried flakes of blood on your hands, trying not to think too much. A few minutes later the crack of a twig has you startled and you hold your breath and pray that it's not a random person, or worse, a hunter.

    "It's just us, Miss Pierce," Ms. Renaya calls out as she steps out of the trees.

    Daenyel follows her, dressed in nothing but his jeans, having discarded his tattered shirt. They both look a bit cleaner like they found a stream and washed off the worst of the carnage. Ms. Renaya is holding a bottle of water. It must have been left behind by a hiker and she filled it.

    "For you to wash your hands," she explains, handing it to you.

    "Thanks," you murmur gratefully.

    You crouch in the entrance and do just that. You're tempted to drink some of it, but you know you won't be here for too long, so you can hold out. When you turn, the vampires have squeezed themselves in as far as they can go. Ms. Renaya has braided her hair against her shoulder and Daenyel is lying on his side, spooning her. She, in turn, pats the ground in front of her.

    "Come, Miss Pierce. You wouldn't want to spoil your sleep cycle. Not after you put so much effort into changing it."

    You crawl over but hesitate to lie down.

    "Shouldn't I keep watch?"

    "My familiar will do that," Ms. Renaya says.

    "Gertrude is here?" You question, glancing at the mouth of the cave to see if you can spot the raven, but you don't.

    "Put your back to me," Ms. Renaya instructs.

    You lie down with your back against her, wincing at how uncomfortable the ground is. She pulls you closer, so you become the third spoon. You're not sure what to think about that. Ms. Renaya has always been nice to you but in a strictly professional way. The closest she has been was when she held your hair back at a party when you had too much to drink and disgraced yourself in front of the vampire elders.

    Now her breath tickles the back of your neck and her hand rests lightly on your hip. It's confusing but comforting. After everything that's happened today, comfort is a welcome feeling. Despite the less-than-comfortable sleeping arrangement, you end up dozing off.

    You wake up before either vampire because you have to pee. The sun is setting and the sky is awash with a golden-pink hue. You and Ms. Renaya have been using Daenyel's outstretched arm as a pillow. Your lips twitch in a smile and you ease away and stumble out of the cave, wincing as your body aches. Sleeping on the floor does that. Once you've relieved yourself, you come back to the cave to find both vampires stirring.

     Ms. Renaya arches her back, stretching. Daenyel grunts and presses his nose against the back of her neck, taking in her scent. Her lips curve into a smile and she elbows him away. It makes you wonder exactly what kind of relationship they have. He's her clan brother, but she never mentioned him until yesternight. Ms. Renaya's eyes open and she looks at you. You wince at being caught staring.

    "Hey," you say.

    Ms. Renaya smiles, but it's the smile she uses when she's suspicious of something or someone. She crawls up to you, and the left strap of her dress slips down on her arm, loosening the dress enough to show the curve of one of her breasts in the dimness of the cave. Suddenly, you can't breathe.

    "I believe you are right, Daenyel. My ghoul entrances all too easily," she said, leaning back on her heels. "Miss Pierce."

    "Yes?" You clear your throat and look up at her face.

    "Is it about time to strengthen our bond?" She asks. "Has it been three months already?"

    "More or less," you agree. "But I think you should wait until we get back-"

    The vampiress doesn't heed you as she lifts her wrist to her mouth and bites down. "I have enough blood to spare," she says. "Drink."

    There's no use arguing now. You press your lips to her offered wrist. You're used to the slightly sweet metallic taste by now and your stomach remains settled as you gingerly swallow. Small mercies. Ms. Renaya leans forward again, to test the bond. It's like a pressure in your brain, an uncomfortable hum of energy. And between your legs, you ache. You're flaming hot right now and there's no way to disguise how fast your heart is beating. Ms. Renaya's cool fingertips grab your chin.

    "Are you alright, Miss Pierce?"

    Daenyel scoots over, and you don't like the gleam in his eye very much. He grabs your hair and tilts your head to the side, with enough force to make you gasp.

    "Smell her," he says.

    Ms. Renaya leans forward, her hair tickling your neck and shoulder.

    "Oh my," she says. "Miss Pierce?"

    "Sorry," you grimace. "I... I can't help it."

    In the darkness, you can barely make out the uncharacteristic smirk on her face. She doesn't look angry. She looks pleased.

    "What a delightful surprise, brother. Who would have thought I would find a human so receptive?"

    Her sharp nails trace dangerously delicious patterns on your thighs. Your breath catches as her nails tease over your inner thighs.

    "W-what are you doing?" You gasp.

    "Right now, you can forget I'm your employer, Miss Pierce," Ms. Renaya says calmly. "It has been too long since I indulged myself."

    Daenyel laughs behind you, pulling you against his back.

    "Are you afraid, Miss Pierce?" He purrs.

    "No," you admit, and it's not a lie.

[dimidiom]

okay okay so i watched the new alien movie with my family last night (ive only seen the first movie all the way through and seen a majority of the second one and thats pretty much all ive seen of the franchise SO) and i thought it was pretty good.

BUT, i have opinions on the end of the movie and more specifically the final monster, and ive been rotating ideas in my head all day so i need to get it out so im not just continuously ranting about this to myself. so im putting all of that under a read more cause i have a lot to say and want to avoid spoilers for people who havent seen the movie yet (note i only watched the movie once, and i would be the first to admit i have a bad memory so i might be misremembering things) (and i also cant remember any of their names, and i cant be assed rn to look them up lmao)

(also note, i havent read any of this over,so theres probably spelling errors and me repeating myself. i just needed to get this out of my head)

i havent really seen anyone elses opinion on the final monster guy but tbh,,,, i hated it?? like i understand the whole scary idea of 'it looked human, but something was off' (and thats just a trope i personally dislike for no reason lmao) but i feel like if youre making that be what makes your monster scary, give it a new spin? like, i literally missed the first major scare with that monster because i turned to make a joke to my sibling ('oh its a person!') i hate that the design was just a tall gangly pale human that you cant see the eyes of, because ive feel like thats something thats been done SOOOO many times before and ive gotten desencitised to it

and just,,, that coming after the heavy hitters of the facehuggers and the xenomorph was just a huge let down! (i will admit that showing the tail getting longer in each shot, was pretty cool) having a tall gangly pale man being the main monster just isnt scary anymore,, you could have done something original and something super new and scary. youre showing THAT right after the fucking xenomorph?? as the final monster??? its scary cause its tall and its eyes are shadowed over??

my whole thought was if they just leaned into the horror of pregnancy, it could have been so cool??? or something along those lines??? like take notes from RE8!! the baby!! in the doll ladies house!! that shit was discusting and terrifying and awesome! instead of having the monster be an adult male, have it be a scary babyyyy

or like take notes from the boss lady(?) from the second chapter of fate!! have the movie play out the same way, but have the main character hear the other lady screaming from off screen and then have her rush over, and gasp shes not in the cryopod! and have th mc panic and look around, but then sees her friend, seemingly perfectly fine, holding a baby in her arms.

theres some really cool ideas that come from the idea of the umbilical cord not being cut. like with the idea of the lady seemingly perfectly normal holding her baby, and that (those two combined) being the new monster. your still very human looking friend, and the monster that shes now attached to. thats not your friend anymore.

the horror of the idea of a monster wearing the face of a friend you couldnt save thats now hunting you down. her baby, the idea of which got the both of you so happy and excited just a few hours earlier, (who shes still connected to, still holding in her arms) being the monster that also ended up corrupting her that now is hunting you

or even if you decided that you wanted to keep the tall pale man as your new monster, give it a new introduction!!! imagine the first time we see it. it just failed a stealth attack against the mc because its still attached to the dead weight of its mom that its dragging behind it via the cord. and then we can have a visual scene where we can see the monster evaluate the situation (failed a stealth attack) find the problem (not stealthy, dragging dead weight behind it that i has no control over, no way to make it useful) and then find a solution (cutting the cord itself, or for a more visceral scene, destroying the body). so we can see it thinking and rationalizing and making a plan and following through. (and its casual disregard of humanity. of its own mother)

just like,,, fear of pregnancy, of childbirth, of babies. i feel like babies, as something to be scared of, should be used more in horror. that'd be cool.

or like,,,, change the ending up,,, have the movie do the same kind of twist the first alien movie did. introduce the audience to a character, audience assumes that character is the main character, and then at some point, kill that character and have a new character become the mc!!!!! like keep the final three people alive at the end of the movie, but do a twist where the mc dies and the other lady has to find a way out! have her not inject the prometheus fire thing, but have it be known that she lost time in that ship, so something could have happened to her, and play around with the idea of her having new trauma about having that baby. like dont say anything outright in the movie, but like, have it end with her not knowing what she wants to do now thats shed not fearing for her life. does she now have fears about something alien growing inside of her, fears of something mutating the baby? give her complicated feelings on what she want to do with that baby. like,,, would she even want to go through with giving birth after literally seeing a baby alien burst out of the chest of her friend. complicated feelings of 'maybe she didnt get away from romulus scott free, and somehow her baby was affect by it'

theres a post ive seen floating around tumbr about horror movies reflecting common fears at the time,,, playing around with pregnancy being the main horror in a movie,,,, isnt a bad idea,,,,,

[snow-system-wol]

It's been about a week since everyone returned from Ultima Thule.

It'll take... time for things to be more like they used to.

(heavy whump, h/c. No detailed S'ria trauma refs.)

Ao3

Things don't make sense as they happen to you. But they don't have to, not in Ultima Thule, not where your own panic can warp reality.

You can not say where you were a moment ago, only that it is different now. Your next step doesn't land on cracked dead earth, like you expect, but on carpeting. A draft chills you to the bone and you look up in complete confusion – the abyss behind you still exists, but in front of you are fractured floorboards leading into a familiar hall.

You don't want to keep walking, but you are… looking for someone, are you not? Yes, you desperately need to find them.

Each step back into that place is dreadful and searching seems to avail you naught – every door you try may as well be set dressing, just part of the wall. The temperature continues to drop, now as cold as it was during that one time that the ceruleum heating failed for bells on end during a long storm.

By now, you've been walking for long enough, along twists and turns, that you know for absolute certain that the space no longer reflects truthful memories. It could hardly have been this large and complex of a building, even if it may have felt as such when you were small.

You also do not feel…alone in here, and your footsteps grow hasty. There is something malevolent in this space, and if Meteion is to be believed, you may have created it yourself.

You are growing tired of walking, trying so hard to break into a jog and yet never moving faster, when the hall suddenly ends with a single door in front of it. You recognize it immediately. You will not enter, no, not willingly.

But a presence lingers directly behind you, closer and closer, and you still feel that panic that you need to find someone, so you open the bedroom door and slip inside.

There is nothing. Quite literally – just a darkness that stretches in all directions. You slam the door shut against whatever has been stalking you and step deeper into this space.

Only a few steps in, you see him – G'raha. He watches you, unmoving, the barely visible shape of a dark bird perched on his shoulder. Not a single sound leaves your mouth as you try to scream for him to come back to you. The corruption engulfs him before you can get any closer.

Unlike the others, he does not simply vanish and grant a glimmer of hope. Something must have been done wrong this time, because the darkness dissipates and reveals a battered and broken body instead of empty space and a tangible spread of magic. There is no crystal this time, only blood.

Your knees give out, even as you try to stagger towards him. Menphina can – you can't feel her right now, but she'll wake up and she can fix him – you just need to get to his side –

A hand closes on the back of your jacket collar and yanks hard enough to sprawl you out on your back, head smacking into the not-ground of this space. Once your vision clears, you look up and your stomach lurches to recognize the face.

He's dead, nothing in this place is real, you know that. You fairly redecorated His bedroom walls with arterial spray, you remember it too clearly now to doubt. He is absolutely dead. Not real. You know not whether you spoke or simply broadcasted your thoughts, but a lilting reply echoes around you. 

“But G'raha, he was real, wasn't he? By your side this whole time until you lost him.”

That…that sounds right, G'raha had come to Ultima Thule with you, that was no trick – which meant –

You try to sit up, to see if that body is still there, to drag yourself to him. Instead, you find yourself struggling against the weight of a boot on your chest. Please, you just need to see G'raha –

Your eyes focus on the ends of long blonde hair, not there a moment prior. Your master hadn't…had hair like that. The pressure on your ribs increases, bones creaking, and even as you refuse to look up to confirm, the following spill of words does it for you. Zenos has ever had a recognizable voice.

You don't know whether Zenos is haunting you as a hopeless memory, or actually has come to Ultima Thule in search of you, but you don't want to know what happens next, you don't want to know what happens next –

 

Your throat is raw, cutting off your screaming into a coughing fit as you bolt upright. You immediately regret it so badly as you hunch over yourself in agony. It hurts, but past the pitiful sounds you are making, you can hear G'raha's voice – and the sheer relief of that is overwhelming.

The sudden glow washing over the room is bright enough that you clench your eyes shut against it. It is only the radiating warmth in your chest that makes you realize what he is doing. The pain starts to fade from something that steals your breath away to simply a steady ache. He gently urges you to stop trying to fold yourself in half and lie back down. It helps a lot, with it so much easier to draw breath.

“Wha–.” Your voice comes out as a dull croak. “Oh godsdammit, not again.”

“You are safe, I promise – untense and allow me to finish healing.”

You're awake enough now to know that you are safe without being told. Now it is more so the guilt that plagues you.

After the first few nights of waking up absolutely everyone in the building and G'raha rushing to your side, he had simply begun sleeping in your room and casting silencing wards. While that is better, you are still waking him up.

(And making him do difficult magic immediately, no less.)

The glow dies down and you finally crack your eyes open to focus on G'raha in the dark.

“How is the pain?”

You take a slow breath, not able to fully fill your lungs. “It's bearable now, thank you.”

He looks at you, horribly worried, and you so badly wish you could sleep through the night without sabotaging your recovery. You keep curling up tightly or moving too fast in your panic, and then G'raha gently tries to heal new microfractures in weakly repaired bone – it's been like this all week.

You had listened to the important bits, when you were conscious enough for them to explain the extent of your lingering injuries. Your ribs fared none too well and would need time to finish the job that magic had begun – time that only increases whenever your night terrors make you forget yourself. You were already warned that they may pain you for months or years after healing, so ideally it would be best to at least actually let them heal in the first place instead of doing things that hurt them.

And the shortness of breath – in the gift that truly kept on giving, evidently the damage Zenos had done when stabbing you over a year ago in Rhalgr's Reach means that you are stuck at higher risk of that lung failing again in response to future injuries. Of course, the blunt force damage you'd taken during this last fight was more than enough to cause a repeat incident.

(They'd also said that your right leg may… not ever quite be the same again, but you are content to ignore that piece of information for the time being and focus on being able to breathe. You can still walk on it, after all, even if not too far without help.)

You let out a slow shuddering breath. “Fuck. I'm sorry. You should rest.”

“You need not apologize for this – it is not your fault. I wish you were not suffering, but I shall stay by your side as long as you'll have me. Would it be incorrect of me to say that I…cherish these moments when we are both awake afterwards, in an odd way? We are both alive.”

You nodded. “I understand. I don't want to…ask too much, but waking up to see you safe and here is a relief. Especially…especially w-when…”. You stifle the hitch in your breath and try to push the images out of your head.

His eyes softened. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

You fix your eyes on the ceiling. Garlemald – G'raha's corpse – Master – Zenos – the cracking of bones. “No, I can't, I can't – not right now.”

“‘Tis alright, shh, you do not have to.” He reaches up to card his hand through your hair, so slowly that you could've stopped him any time. You lean into his hand instead.

You soften your voice, trying to recapture some of your lost sleepiness. “Stay up here.”

His hand pauses in your hair. “Are you certain? You know my sleeping accommodations are perfectly comfortable.”

“Surely not as good for your back as a mattress, though?” You reach to find his free hand and twine your fingers together. “If you're comfortable with it, I'm saying it's okay.”

With his hand in yours, it is easier to drift back towards sleep – a familiar scent and warm body that is reassuringly alive.

Yes, you are safe in this time, He and Zenos have both died under Fray's watchful gaze, and G'raha breathes steadily by your side.

[briitcedes]

only one bed - jude bellingham.

word count: 1.6k

summary: the age old “there’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling” trope.

masterlist

The day had been a rare calm one out on a private beach you’d found somewhere along the coast of Spain while looking for a vacation spot with your friends, the sun had shined all day without cloud in sight, and the lack of wind combined with the hot weather had made it impossible to stay out of the water for long. Even though the day had been one of the most relaxed ones you had had the fortune of enjoying in a while, a whole day in the ocean would take its toll on anyone, hence why you were now basically dragging your feet back to your shared villa to turn in for the night. 

You had your shoes in your hands, feeling the now cold sand make contact with your bare feet, your hair salty and your eyes red from the water. Some of your friends were walking in front of you, all absolutely exhausted, causing them to stumble and trip over everything. Some others were walking behind you, whispering to each other and giggling under their breath, with Jude walking right beside you. You were both walking while sharing a peaceful moment of comfortable silence after a day full of annoying each other, though it seemed keeping quiet was a hard thing for him to do when he was deliriously tired, given that he’d tried to spark a conversation every five steps you took.

You had left everything in the villa neatly placed before you left this morning, already imagining how tiring it would be to tidy everything up when you got back, as you could barely keep your eyes open. However, it seemed like the universe had other plans, because as soon as you all arrived in one piece to the gorgeous house you had rented for your holiday, and after various failed attempts at opening the door, one of your friends collapsed on the couch, which probably wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t accidentally rented a villa with a missing bed, causing the couch to be your designated room for the entire vacation. You tried nudging them and waking them up, but it was a lost cost given the fact that they had instantly passed out, and you weren’t strong enough to move their dead weight.

Jude chuckled as soon as he saw you standing next to the couch looking like a kicked puppy. “Don’t look so sad.” He chuckled. “You can come sleep in our room.” he offered. 

It was a fair offer, given that he shared a room with your friend currently sleeping on the couch, and their bed would be free. However, after a week of sleeping in the same spot, you  dreaded having to get used to sleeping on a different surface, not to mention in the same room as Jude. You really didn’t have enough energy to argue with him right now, though, and instead you just settled for giving a smile that you hoped conveyed everything you would say to him in that moment if you weren’t so exhausted. Judging by the way he flashed you one of his own in return, you guessed it probably did.

“Thanks.” You whispered as he opened the door to the relatively big room. No one close to you was asleep yet, and you had no reason to be lowering your voice, but something in the atmosphere and his closeness to you as he held the door open caused your voice to come out in a hushed tone. 

As soon as you stepped into his room and heard him shut the door behind you, you wanted to start crying out of frustration. Or exhaustion — probably both, you weren’t sure. Bottom line is that you wanted to start crying. Your friend’s bed in which you were supposed to crash, was a mess. The suitcase was open in top of the bed and their clothes were everywhere but inside of it, the bed sheet on top of it looked like it hadn’t been changed since you’d arrived, there was a leftover plate of food on the floor next to the bed and you were sure you could see a pair of shoes peeking out from under the sheets.

Jude chuckled from his side of the room.

“Guess you don’t want to be sleeping in there.” He said, his features contouring into a grimace while looking at you over his shirtless shoulder as he changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in.

“It beats the floor.” You shrugged, and it was true. You knew for a fact none of you had bothered cleaning the floors during your stay, and you were scared you were gonna fall through it and end up in the middle of the ocean. An irrational thought, of course, but one that your anxiety considered very possible anyway given that you weren’t used to staying in houses so close to the ocean. 

“I mean, we can always share the bed.” Jude suggested, and you shook your head, you thought you were already being too much of a bother, and you didn’t think your body could handle a whole night of sleeping next to him. “Oh, come on. It’s not that big of a deal, we've both shared beds with most of thrm before.” he insisted, walking closer to you until he was crouching down to look into your eyes that were trying to focus on anything but his brown ones.

“Are you sure?” You asked, finally looking up at him and being shocked by how good his eyes looked under the moonlight. He nodded with a smile and when you gave in, you could’ve sworn you saw him try to hide a smile while standing up and holding his hand out to you.

Once you had gotten dressed into your pajamas and said your goodnights, you climbed into bed on the opposite side of him, while you both made a point of sleeping as far away from each other as possible, to the point where you were almost falling off the bed. You didn’t care though, you were exhausted and just wanted to sleep, so that’s exactly what you did.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was how heavy your chest felt. You got worried for a moment, your brain starting to think that somehow you had fallen through the floor and you were drowning, before you glanced down and saw Jude’s head resting right under your chin and on top of your chest, both of his arms safely wrapped around your body as his soft breaths made contact with your skin, causing goosebumps to make their way through your body and your heartbeat to speed up. You ignored the butterflies having him laying against you caused in your stomach, and instead admired the sight in front of you.

You stared at his face and admired every single feature in it; his long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his soft lips slightly parted as he breathed through them, and his curved nose upon which you were delicately tracing your index finger up and down. His nose subconsciously scrunched up at the contact and you let out a soft laugh at how cute he looked, moving your right hand from his nose and placing it on his hair instead, starting to twirl his curls in your fingers while you kept your other hand on his face and caressed his cheek, feeling your heart melt at the sight of his relaxed features.

Soon enough, however, you noticed how the right side of you body started to go numb from being under him and having him pressed to your side for such a long time. As much as you hated to disrupt the peaceful state he was in and your own private selfish view of his face, you shook him awake. He let out a groan and nuzzled closer to you, if that was even possible, and you felt your heart flip inside you at the movement. 

“Sorry for the bother, mister, but my whole body is going numb. You aren’t exactly light, you know?” You teased.

In one swift motion, Jude turned you both around, still keeping his arms wrapped around you but this time you were the one whose head was placed on his chest. Your heart was already beating at an inhuman pace when he started to trace patterns across your arm with his thumb and you felt your body tense up once you started thinking about how he was conscious now and definitely aware of what he was doing. Jude must have felt this because he spoke with a sigh afterwards.

“I always imagined our first morning waking up together would involve less clothing, but this is still pretty good.” He said and you slapped his chest, feeling your cheeks burning up. “Just relax, please?” he asked, looking down at you. “I can’t sleep when your thoughts are so loud.” He concluded, moving to place a kiss on the crown of your head before laying back down.

You smiled softly and nuzzled closer to him, inhaling his scent resting your head above his shirt. You returned his kiss by placing one of your own against his chest where his shirt opened up and allowed a little bit of skin to poke through, relaxing against him once again once you felt his quiet laugh come from above you in the form of a huff of air.

Feeling his thumb still drawing patterns in your arms, you decided a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt, and he would still be there when you woke up.

[clareguilty]

Arthur Morgan/reader, desperate sex

Here is my second fic for kinktober! The next should be up on Wdnesday <3

Arthur Morgan/fem!reader | desperate sex, dominant Arthur Mentions of death and injury, mild angst. I made the cowboy cry. Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2000

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice demanded as you rode up the trail to camp.

“It’s just me, Bill,” you called back, tipping your tattered hat.

“What the hell?!” He blinked and rubbed his eyes like he couldn’t believe you were right in front of him. “You’re alive?”

You grinned, opening your arms wide. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He watched dumbfounded as you rode the rest of the way up to Horseshoe Overlook. You had been gone more than a few days, and your worst fear was that the gang would have packed up and left. The job had gone terribly -- so terribly you had been stranded and lost with no way back -- which was a good reason for the gang to move on to somewhere where the law didn’t know their faces.

But everything was exactly the same. People milled about, scrubbing or packing or chopping. Dutch’s gramophone played on, louder than a dynamite blast and seemingly never ending.

“What in god’s name?” Hosea took one look at you, bruised and battered and covered in every inch of wilderness you had hiked through trying to get back to camp.

“Glad to see y’all are still here.” You groaned in pain as you slid out of the saddle, smacking your ‘borrowed’ horse on the rump and pointing her back to the road. “Go on, girl. Find your way back home.”

The horse slowly headed back the way it came. Hosea was staring at you.

“I know,” you frowned. “I look terrible.”

“No,” Hosea waved his hand, shaking his head. “It’s not that -- though you do look like shit. We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

It was your turn to look taken aback. “Dead? You gave up on me that quick?”

“Sweetheart.” He gripped your arm as if he was still trying to convince himself you were real. “You fell off a bridge. Those rapids… the rocks…” he trailed off.

You grimaced. “It certainly wasn’t my best performance.”

“There wasn’t any time to go back and look for you, but we weren’t even sure we would have found a body.” He looked ashamed. “We failed you.”

“No,” you took his hands in yours, squeezing. “You did what you had to do. I couldn’t bear it if you had lost someone trying to come back for me.”

Sean was walking by, bottle in hand. He did a double take when he saw you standing there, glanced at his bottle, and then back at you. “You mean Dutch gave that long fancy speech for nothing? You had better not die again.”

You laughed and shot him a wink. “I don’t plan on it.”

Sean seemed satisfied with that response. “Your man’s been a right mess since we lost you. Hopefully he quits moping around all the time now.”

“Arthur?” you glanced around. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

Sean shrugged. “Probably the same place he’s been for a week now.”

You turned to Hosea, desperate. “Where?”

“He’s been at his wagon mostly. I didn’t want him going out in the state he’s been in.”

His words only made you more worried. You had finally made it back to camp. All you had been able to think about -- the only thing on your mind as you clawed your way out that ravine and stumbled through the woods -- was that you had to get back to him. You couldn’t leave him. “Is he hurt? Did something happen?”

Hosea didn’t get the chance to answer. Whispers of your arrival back at camp must have spread fast, because Mary-Beth was dragging Arthur by the arm to where you and Hosea were standing.

“Arthur.” You were running -- as fast as you could move with all your injuries and exhaustion. He finally saw you, freezing in place and staring in disbelief.

You slammed into his chest, flinging your arms around him.

He hesitated before returning your embrace, leaning in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. The two of you stood there for a long while as you sniffled into his chest. Arthur held you tightly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Isn’t this sweet,” a familiar booming voice rang out. “Glad to see you alive and well, dear.” You didn’t even turn to look at Dutch. Not when Arthur was clinging to you.

The ground disappeared beneath your feet and you found yourself hoisted over Arthur’s shoulder. The crowd that had gathered around the two of you dispersed as he stalked across camp. The world flipped right side up again as Arthur sat you on his horse, swinging into the saddle behind you and taking off at a full gallop.

You made it to Valentine in record time. The ride was harsh and agitated your injuries, but you didn’t mind with Arthur at your back. He helped you down to the ground and practically carried you inside the hotel, slamming the door open. “A room for me and my wife, please,” he demanded.

The hotel clerk handed over the key. You clung to Arthur the whole way up the stairs, nuzzling against him and just glad to be near him again.

The lock clicked behind you and Arthur… changed. His embrace became more insistent. His eyes darkened. The edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees and Arthur laid you down. It was gentle, but he pressed you into the bed, climbing over you. “Where are you hurt?” he asked.

“It’s not too bad-” you tried to play it off.

He cut you off. “Where. Are. You. Hurt.”

It was terrifying, but thrilling. You shivered under his intense gaze. “My hip,” you grabbed one of his hands and gently lay his palm over your hip. “Makes walking and riding hard.”

He nodded. Clearly waiting for you to continue. “My back is pretty messed up, and my shoulder.”

He noticed the rips and tears in your shirt. All the places you had scraped or torn. His hands went to the buttons, lifting you carefully so he could get you out of the sleeves.

Your trousers were next, slowly pulled down over your hips. When you winced in pain, Arthur stopped to kiss you, cradling your face in his hands.

He stripped you down. His expression was pained as he took in the full extent of your injuries. You had fallen off of the rail bridge and gotten swept into the freezing rapids. The current slammed you into the rocks and swept you down the ravine before you washed up on the bank of the river. From there, it had been a grueling process of making your way out of the ravine and through the woods.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you reassured him. Glancing down, you got a good look at just what he saw. “It does look pretty bad, though,” you frowned.

Arthur’s expression was hard to read. You wondered if he was disgusted by you. It would take a long time to heal, and you knew he might not want to look at you while you were so beat up and battered.

He nearly collapsed on top of you. Luckily, he knew to brace his weight. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breaths ragged.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he gasped. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “I’m still here,” you promised. “Busted and bruised to hell, but I’m not gone yet, honey.”

He kissed his way along his jaw until he found your lips. It was perfect. You had missed him so much, so worried you would never make it back to him. But now you were here in his arms and kissing him. 

“I love you,” you said as soon as you caught your breath.

“I love you so much, darling.” He hovered his hands just above your skin, too scared to touch you.

You placed your hands over his and guided it to where you weren’t scraped or bruised. “Touch  me,” you begged.

He sighed as soon as he felt your skin against his palms, as if he just needed to know you were really there.

“I need you,” you tried to pull him against you, attempting to slot your hips together. “Please, Arthur.”

He hesitated. You could see the desire in his eyes, how badly he needed you, needed to feel you. But he didn’t want to hurt me. You would have to convince him.

“Arthur,” you grabbed the waistband of his pants. “I fell off a bridge and climbed out of a ravine and walked across half the damn state. I want you to fuck me, and I don’t care if it hurts.”

He seemed dazed, but lust clearly won out as you tried to slide your hand under his shirt. He was undressed in seconds, kissing his way over your neck and unable to keep his hands off you.

The pain was bearable, and you were too distracted with the warmth of Arthur’s skin under your hands. You couldn’t get enough of him, so glad to be near to him after all of those cold nights in the wild. 

He was impatient, desperate. He wanted all of you at once, and he didn’t know where to start. Now that you had given permission, he wasn’t afraid to take what he needed. And take he did. He sucked a mark into your collarbone before kissing down to your chest. You gasped as his lips found your breasts, teeth scraping along the skin.

“Please,” you rocked your hips.

He got the message, gently pressing your thighs apart so he could stroke your clit. It felt so good. The stretch when he slipped two fingers inside made you cry out. You sighed and pulled him closer, winding your fingers in his hair as he pulled moans and gasps from your lips.

“That’s it,” he said. “Good girl. I wanna hear you.” He doubled his efforts, determined to make you come around his fingers.

You pulled him up for a searing kiss, biting his lip as you came. “Fuck me,” you breathed.

He was just as needy, cock hard and aching against your hips. He grabbed your less injured leg and hooked it around his hip, dragging his cock against your slit. The teasing was going to drive you mad, but luckily he was just as impatient. He sank into you with one slow motion.

He hissed a curse against your skin, lost in the feeling of you around his cock. “God, darling. Need you so bad.”

He didn’t even try to start slow, setting a quick, frantic pace as soon as he began to move. His fingers dug into the bruises on your skin, but you didn’t mind the pain. It only reminded you that Arthur was there, that you had made it home to him.

You were so close, clinging to each other so desperately. You couldn’t imagine what Arthur had been through the past several days. He had truly believed you were gone, he had been in mourning. While you were focused on not getting eaten by wildlife, he was grieving your death.

It made sense why he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, why he sighed so deeply every time his hips met yours. The way he drank the taste of your lips as if he could never get his fill. You gave him everything you could.

The two of you went three rounds that night, fighting through your exhaustion in a desire to be close to one another. You fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, curled together on the rickety hotel bed.

“I can’t stop seeing it,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off you. “The sight of you falling off that bridge, the way you just disappeared. It’s kept me awake every night.”

You can see it. The dark circles under his eyes, how haggard and underfed he looks. You can only imagine how broken up he must have been.

“Not tonight,” you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You have me here, safe and sound.”

[earlgreydream]

time for us.

| loki x reader | angst | fluff |

anon requested. loki has been working a lot lately and hasn’t really had anytime for the reader and he completely forgets about their anniversary and she doesn’t tell him for a couple of days but then he snaps at her and they have a huge argument

a/n: this doesn’t have any spoilers for the show— just mention that Loki works for the TVA (which isn’t canon at the time of me writing this)

You loathed Loki’s new job, working for the Time Variance Authority.

Ever since Loki began at the TVA, they’d managed to occupy nearly all of his time and energy, leaving little to none left for you. Your relationship was strong, but only a few weeks of work had put a strain on the two of you.

He’d become more short tempered, and easily agitated. You tried to be patient, but little things seemed to antagonize you, and soon every small thing was becoming huge.

Above all, you hated to fight with Loki. You bottled up your frustration, shoving them down inside of you and keeping them hidden and locked away. Your limited time with Loki was precious, and you didn’t want to poison it with your annoyance. However, it was doing damage that you hadn’t yet comprehended, building a pressurized weapon that was bound to explode.

It took weeks, but the explosion came.

.

Loki had been so caught up in work that he missed your anniversary. It had escaped his mind entirely, passing like any other day. He was distracted by variants running wild, and the need to please his new boss. He felt responsible for things that were going wrong, and he had put your relationship on the backburner.

You’d been certain he’d take you out during the night, or at least do something to acknowledge the anniversary of your love, but you’d been dead wrong. You waited at home as hours passed, and when his normal arrival time had long passed, the pain in your chest grew until your entire body was throbbing with hurt.

You took your makeup off, along with the pretty dress you wore-- the green one that your husband adored.

Loki had stayed late at work, taking overtime and showing up just before ten. You were so hurt you could hardly speak, but Loki’s mind was too muddled with work to even notice. You were already in bed when he returned home, and he’d kissed your forehead and gone to sleep with less than five words leaving his lips.

You laid awake in bed that night, staring at the wall. You should have told Loki you were angry, said something then and at least gotten it in the open. But you shoved it down with everything else— every other hurt and grievance and annoyance that poisoned you.

.

“Can you set that down, please?” You asked, four days later. You tried to keep your tone even, but you were impatient. The bite in your words was all you could do to keep from tearing the file from his delicate hands.

Loki was in the kitchen, his face buried in a variant case file. He was supposed to be helping you make dinner, but you were dismissed and cast aside once again as his work outshined you.

“I’m working, Y/N! It’s important. Don’t you want me to get paid so you can have your pretty things?” Loki snapped, shocking you.

“No!” You screamed, slamming the cabinet door shut.

He stared at you, turquoise eyes wide in shock at your outburst. He dropped the file on the counter, a harsh glare adorning his stunning face.

“No, Loki! I don’t fucking care about the pretty things. I don’t even know that I care about YOU!” The words were coming out before you could stop them.

“You don’t care about me?! All I ever do is for you!” Loki met your anger, matching your energy and only fueling the fire of rage that was building in your stomach.

“You’re such a selfish liar! You don’t give a fuck about me, Loki! You’re in a relationship with your bullshit job, you don’t give a damn about me! All of your time and your energy... and fuck, even your kindness goes to the stupid fucking TVA!! There’s nothing left for me, and I don’t want your scraps!” You shoved him back when he took a step toward you.

“I’m selfish? You’re needy and dramatic! You’re a spoiled brat, acting out when not every ounce of my attention is being given to you. What, you’re mad that I didn’t help you make this salad? Grow up, Y/N!” Loki’s hateful words poured out, tasting like acid in his mouth.

“No! I’m mad that you forgot our anniversary and that you haven’t seen how much you’ve hurt me!” Tears burned as they streamed down your face, blurring your vision that was bleeding at the edges.

Loki’s lips parted, and realization suddenly crossed his features. He took a step back, recognizing his anger had spiraled out of control, and that your anger was justified.

“I didn’t mean it… I do care about you, I just want you to care about me.” Your voice broke, and shaky hands went to your mouth, stifling a sob. Guilt swelled in Loki’s chest as he saw you fall apart, unable to bear the weight of your anger.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten. Please, my love, forgive me,” Loki’s tone softened, and he knelt down to his knees before you.

He didn’t care about the messy floors ruining his perfect suit, nothing mattered to him then except for you.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just miss you,” you were weeping, unable to hold the sobs at bay.

“It’s okay, scream and cry if you need to, but know I love you more than anything and I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Loki gently pulled you forward, closing his arms around you. His forehead rested against your stomach, and you laid your hands on top of his head.

“I know. I know,” you stammered in shaky breaths. Your fingers trembled as you dragged them through his hair, overwhelmed with every emotion that washed over you all at once.

.

You got home from work, a couple of days after your fight. You had both apologized, easing the tension over. Loki hadn’t stopped apologizing, even when you promised him it was okay. It had been better since-- you weren’t keeping secrets or harboring anger, and you felt exceedingly better in the aftermath of your fight.

You walked into your master suite, considering a hot bath or a shower after your day. You were lost in your thoughts as you kicked your shoes off, before turning to the bed. A dress was laid out on the end of the bed, glittery heels and jewelry in a box beside it. Loki wasn’t home, but a note was attached, telling you to get dressed and he’d meet you.

You smiled, lifting the black cocktail dress. You changed, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. Your day at work had been long, and you didn’t know what Loki had in store for you, but you were excited.

The lock clicked open on the door, signaling the arrival of your husband. You stepped into the foyer to greet him, met with Loki in an all-black suit. A grin spread across his expression as he noticed you, making warmth bloom in your chest.

“You look-” you both started at the same time.

You smiled and tilted your head, letting him speak.

“You look beautiful,” Loki spoke softly before giving you a kiss.

“Thank you. You look sharp. What’s the occasion, what are we doing?”

“I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I thought we could celebrate us tonight.”

You broke into a grin, nodding excitedly.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it.”

“Of course. Let me set my things down,” he kissed your cheek and stepped into your master, cleaning up and dropping his bag.

.

You were driven to a fancy restaurant, one hand in Loki’s as the other smoothed over the wheel of his black sports car. He dropped the keys with a valet, and you were escorted to a table in the back of the place.

“Wine, Mrs. Laufeyson?”

“Please,” you nodded, and the waiter poured you a glass of sparkling pink moscato.

“I’ve gotten us a suite at the resort in the city. I have a bag packed for you in the car, I thought we could enjoy a weekend away. You deserve it,” Loki brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“You’re spoiling me,” you giggled, sipping your wine.

“As I should be.”

Elaborate French dishes were brought out on gorgeous plates, looking like something from a food blog. It tasted divine, and Loki told you some history about the dish from some time he was living or traveling in Paris. You listened to his animated stories, thinking about how you were so in love with him. 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Loki laughed softly, spooning sorbet into your mouth.

“Because I love you. And you’re charming and cute when you get excited,” you confessed with a grin. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry about everything,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay. We’re past it. Time moves forward for us.”

Loki nodded, leaning forward and smearing a kiss over your temple before retrieving your car from the valet.

“To the hotel?” he asked, sliding his hands over your hips and kissing your neck as you waited.

“Okay,” you giggled, squirming in his arms. 

He squeezed your bum, making you gasp before opening the door for you, helping you into the passenger seat. 

When you arrived at the hotel, there was a bouquet of roses on the table, and candles burning around. He kissed the back of your head, setting your bag down for you.

“Let me make this up to you,” his voice was deep as he unzipped your dress.

“Please,” you smiled, turning in his arms and pulling him into a heated kiss. 

[drxwsyni]

show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you. 

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons. 

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black. 

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Not on my boat

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst helping Sam fix his boat, during the midst of its progression, Bucky corners you within the old Wilson heirloom, leaving your friend and future captain, rather disgusted in the both of you.

Warnings | tfatws spoilers, mentions of death, some angst, smut, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bit of choking, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Hearing the waves crash against the side of the boat brought a smile upon your face, as you felt the breeze brush against your face. It was peaceful, fixing something rather than leaving it broken in order to save lives. If you weren’t swarmed with the government on your tail about how you were not allowed to use your powers, you’d be living out a free and happy life with the man you loved.

You were enduring a break from your assistance on the old Wilson vessel, your legs plodded around its platform, as you surveyed every piece that was in progress. Soon it would be in tip top shape, and when Sam and Bucky’s relationship was on par with that, that was when the two of you had planned to leave. There were plenty of things the two of you had to make up for before you could reside in peace; one of those things was that list of his.

It was a ledger of the amends that he had to make, a reminder of all the lives that had either taunted his own, or he had stolen from whilst he was not himself. James did not deserve the grievance that he was pardoned with, he was struggling, that much was clear. He had lost Steve, and then he was forced to watch as the shield had been handed off to some wanna be cap. To say he had been furious at Sam was a deep understatement, but as said, he was making amends.

Sam was a good man, you had learnt that much from the time that you had spent avenging to him. You had yet to tell him, but you weren’t planning on going back to that life after Karli was stopped, you wanted to continue working in the small shot bar slash grill, where Bucky and Youri would visit during your hours for lunch, and remain in that partition of worlds. Having Bucky and normalcy was a fine balance, which was a deep seated structure that you deeply needed.

If you did not have that then you were sure you’d explode, and hurt someone, or break something. That was no longer your duty, the fighting that you had spent most of your life giving into was coming to an end, and you were more than fine with that. A civilian life sounded good enough, and something that you could definitely settle for, though, you weren’t sure that Bucky would do the same, you hoped that he would.

That gleam in his eye was far too noticeable every time that he looked at that star striped shield. It had brought him much pain, but it had been there in the corner of his sight everywhere he had went. And now, Sam Wilson, the man that his best friend had entrusted with it, finally accepted the mantle, holding it in his firm grasp, ready to become the next captain to walk the earth, and both you and him knew that he would do far better than Walker could.

He was already a hero, he’d been fighting the Sam foes as Steve for some time, that was enough to know that he was ready. His hesitancy had been understandable, more so after listening to Isiah, though, it was nice to see Sam take his own path on this one. There were pictures of his younger self assembled upon the wooden walls, he was with his sister Sarah. She seemed like a nice woman, a part of you wished that you get to know her better, but she wasn’t a buyer into the whole superhero get advantages agenda, and nor were you.

From what you could tell, Sam had his advantage right here; his family. Sarah was supportive of him, always aiding him necessary, whilst she simultaneously raised to young boys, that looked admirably up to their uncle, and feeding the kids that they went to school with because their parents had no intention to. If you could, you’d buy a replica of her life, her head was above water, although the boat almost wasn’t.

The boat. It was an heirloom, something that you did not have of your own family. Everyone was gone, the only person you had was Bucky, and thinking of him caused a light chuckle to fall from your lips, he made you endlessly happy. But neither of you could have the picture perfect life, and that was why the pair of you worked, you were each well aware of the restrictions that taunted you both, and had both been down dark roads on more than one occasion.

Things were turning brighter though, as the sun glared through the old glass, casting luminosity to stroke the high points of your face. A gently creak had your head diverting to the door way, where no other than James Barnes was leant up against, his metal arm pressed to the frame as he adoringly swept his oceanic pools over your form, slowly stepping closer.

“What are you thinking about doll?” He asked you, his tone genuine, as you sighed from his words, rubbing your eyelid as you felt a small itch. You puffed your cheeks, as you placed your hands on the super soldier’s waist, rubbing small and vigilant circles through his grey shirt.

“Too much.” It was an honest answer, everything was rattling around like pins in your mind, sinking in and letting loose to their own will. They could not be organised, they would only tumble about again, until the box was empty, though, for now, you had nowhere else to put them.

“Sarah said we could spend the night.” At his words, you hummed, taking note once more of how generous the woman indeed was. “We get the couch, so you best be on your best behaviour baby girl, nothing dirty goes on inside.” A small smirk crept its way onto his handsome face as you gasped at his spoken intention, lightly hitting the vibranium of his arm.

“Why do you blame me for not keeping it in my pants?” You interrogated him, glaring up at the man with a furrow between your brows. “You’re the one that corners me, a lot like this actually, so that you can get your own way and fuck m- oh, that’s exactly what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” You scoffed, crossing your arms and stepping away due to the man’s hormonal impulses. “Why am in not surprised?” You asked yourself, shaking your head at the behaviour of your partner.

“Hey, I’m doing us both a favour. Sex in someone else’s house is not exactly appreciated, and there’s kids, that i would rather not risk getting caught by.” He moved towards you, grabbing an ass cheek in each hand, as he pulled you closer by his grip. “At least then, there’s a chance I can survive the night, without being woken up by you sucking me off, or riding me.”

He was pushing your buttons, and he far well knew that, almost too well. It was his technique to get you riled up, that way, there’d be no dismissal of his current proposal, though, you continued to wear that adorable frown that he loved so much, and so, he gave your ass another firm squeeze, causing you to gasp against his chest. “Fucking on their dead parents’ boat isn’t exactly respectful either.”

“We’re helping fix it, may as well take our break on board, let loose a little, release all that’s clouding your mind.” He shrugged, knowing that his words were tempting you into complying with his lustrous whim, and so, to put another step in to helping his cause, he stepped back, reaching behind him to pull his shirt over the back of his neck, leaving his muscular torso bare, and free for your eyes to roam.

“That’s not fair.” You whined at him, not stopping yourself as you moved closer, and smoothed your hands down his stomach. “You’re such a tease Barnes, why couldn’t you have just fingered me in the public bathroom and waited until tomorrow?” A groan slipped from your mouth, as you peppered kisses over his warm flesh, tasting the sweat on his skin as your tongue swiped over the ridges of his six pack.

“Where would the fun have been in that?” He watched you roll your eyes, but continue to work your way down to his navel, stroking his v line with your fingertips. “We’ve had sex on a plane, might as well add a boat to the list.” Bucky remarked, groaning as you put your weight down onto your knees, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, as you palmed him through the denim of his jeans.

He could feel his cock stirring beneath the material, wanting more, eager to breach the layers that were keeping your tongue from rotating around him. But he remained still, as you swept your hair out from your face, the noise of your pulling down his zipper audible, as you sent him a naughty grin. The man above you licked his lips, breathing a sigh of relief when you tugged his jeans and boxers down, his erection swiftly bouncing up, the leaking tip pointing rudely at your face.

With a quick hand, you grasped his length, rubbing over his veins as you pumped him, spreading the moisture of his precum over his rigid skin, aiding you in your movements. As you proceeded to jerk him within your grip, your mouth moved forwards, your breath fanning over his balls before your tongue slipped out to stroke them, swiping up the droopy skin, as you suckled one into your mouth, contently moaning from the flavour of his skin.

Your eyes had shut as Bucky opened his own, watching you through a hooded gaze as you happily assisted his genitals, sending him into a crusade of pleasure as you used your well adversed skill set upon him. Your bottom lip ran up his shaft, slowly dragging along his reddened skin, until your reached the tip, your hands fleeing down to fondle with his sack, as your mouth stuffed itself full of his cock.

“Baby girl.” He breathed, his chest feeling tight as he stood there, practically naked aboard your friend’s boat. James gritted his teeth, watching as you effortlessly bobbed your head up and down half of him, lazily grinning as gagging sounds eventually emitted from your throat as you had him down the back of your throat, saliva slipping down your chin as you shook your head from side to side with him choking you with his dick.

Though he worried not for your struggle, not as you moaned against him, your lashes fluttering though your eyes were shut. He reached his vibranium hand down, stroking the side of your face with the cool metal, a high whine whistling it’s way out of your nose. Your spare hand reached up, cupping it against you, as you hollowed your cheeks, steadily breathing your nostrils.

A light frown covered your face as you focused on smoothing your tongue on his underside, causing Bucky to throw back his head, his stomach sternly clenching as he felt his balls twitch; and then, before he could fathom it, he was filling your mouth, cumming down your throat, as he pulled out, the last of his seed falling upon your tongue as he manhandled himself, feeling sensitive as he watched you fumble your tongue around your mouth, swallowing the mix of your spittle and his cum.

“Taste so fucking good.” You spoke, laughing lightly as you stared up and saw his dazed expression. Bucky pulled you up, his hand cupping your ass again, as he backed you up against the dash, your back lightly hitting against the window as he pulled at your shorts, whisking then down your legs, rubbing you through your underwear. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting himself as he located your clit, your arms grabbing at his shoulders to push him down, to which he complied.

His noises echoed through your mouth, as he pressed kissed along the top of your thighs, his fingers surpassing the seams of your panties, swiping at your entrance, until his prodding ceased, and he sunk his middle finger into your pussy, feeling you clench around him instantaneously. His teeth bit into your skin, emitting a squeal out of you as you harshly tugged his hair, making him rut his loose cock against nothing but the air.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your skin, as his vibranium snapped the sides of your underwear, letting the damp material fall to the floor, as he licked circles around your clit with his tongue, pulley airy sounds of pleasure of of your lungs. He slipped in another finger, his nose being pressed against your mound as you tugged him even closer, feeling as though you were almost there. Then you came, his fingers quickly exiting you as his tongue plunged in your entrance, cleaning up all your juices.

“Need you to fuck me Buck, please honey”. The man stood, stroking his hard cock as he teased your entrance. He swiped it through your slit a couple of times, before slapping his head against your clit, making your mewl against his lips, as you licked your essence from around his mouth. “James...” His cocky demeanour returned, as he watched you glance down at his cock, pressing your lips together in desire.

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck me on the boat.” He sneered dominantly, gripping your throat with his vibranium fist, giving it a tough squeeze, finding it endlessly hot as needy tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. Your lips pouted as you sputtered to speak, but you were just so hungry for him. “Guess I’m just gonna have to take pity on you doll, aren’t I?”

With that,he wedged his way through your folds, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out, gently releasing your throat to paw at your tits through your shirt. “Move baby, move.” You mumbled, your head feeling dizzy as your nails dug into the back of his neck, pulling him closer so that you could place tender and supple kisses across the front of his shoulders.

And so, he began to thrust into you, keeping a grip on your hips as he raised your leg around his waist, driving into you deeper, your head tiredly lulling as you chanted his name in soft and delirious pants. “So damn tight angel.” The soldier muttered, biting down onto your chin as he kissed his way up to your lips, abusing the swollen flesh a little more. The kisses were sloppy and downright needy, his vibranium hand held your chin up so that it would tip in rhythm with his movements, making access to the inside of your mouth easier.

“Buck.” You mumbled against his lips as your eyes rolled, your own hand circling your clit as you jutted against his exceeding administrations, one hand crawling up into his scalp as you let our small screams. You were indefinitely close, and as Bucky swerved his head around your own, moving his lips to nip at your earlobe, you came, coating his cock in your wetness, as he continued to hit his hips against your own.

It wasn’t long until he followed after, your clumsy hands trailing down to roll his balls in your palms being the last thing to push him over the edge. Bucky remained standing between your legs, each of your heads resting over each other’s shoulders as you felt each other, eyes closed, and smelling how the aroma of your sex wafted around you, like a personalised perfume.

“Hell no.” And the peace was broke, as Sam’s voice broke it. He had his hands on his hips as he shifted his gaze away from the two of you, unimpressed by what had happened. “The two of you get a break and you - not on my boat!” He practically screeched like a falcon at the pair of you, his arms flailing about like a bird’s flapping wings.

Although he was maddened, it didn’t settle well with you. You were too far out of it to acknowledge what he must have thought about the on deck dick that you had gotten, you were too lost in Bucky, the feeling of him still inside of you, and the falling of his cum out from beneath you both. “You know what, I’m outta here.” Sam left, quite glad to do so.

“You alright doll face?” Bucky asked as he pulled out, making you wince from the feeling of emptiness. You nodded as he reached for your underwear , leaving them be when he registered he had torn them, and instead opted to picking up just you’d shorts, pulling them onto your legs, redressing himself afterwards.

“I love you Buck.” You smiled tiredly, humming as he pecked your lips a few more times, combing his hands through your sex hair, as he returned the facial expression, seemingly calm. It looked good on him, the pair of you had momentarily forgotten your traumas, and it was bliss.

“Love you too darling.” He pecked your nose, staring lovingly into your eyes as he helped you down, and abled you with support to stand. “Unfortunately I think our breaks over beautiful.” He spoke, his hand upon your waist as the pair of you walked from the scene, going to fetch a bottle of water from Sarah, whom you hoped had not learn of your oversea adventure .