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mochamamii · 3 years ago

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yandere!taeyong: no secrets.

▹ a/n : hello loves, I chose a really shitty title for this but whatever loll this is something I wrote in like a day, sometimes I write absolute filth for no reason, this is one of those times.

▹ triggers : yandere!au, detailed smut, unprotected sex + creampie, mirror sex, daddy kink but like not super heavy tho

▹ pairing : lee taeyong x chubbyfem!reader

▹ synopsis : keeping secrets from your yandere boyfriend probably isn’t the best idea...unlesss they’re lee taeyong (even then that’s risky bizness my friend.)

••

Taeyong sighed as he stared down at the text message on his phone, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white. He peered out the window of his car to glance across the street once more, staring at your apartment building.

He was parked across the street, his car parked far enough away that you wouldn’t be able to recognize his car from someone else’s.

Taeyong was immediately reminded of the lit cigarette he had in his other hand when the unflicked ash fell, slightly singeing the patch of skin on his leg where his ripped skinny jeans had left him exposed. He cursed under his breath, rolling the window down just enough to toss the still lit bud on the ground.

He was so distracted by you, more specifically, the blatant lie he had just caught you in that he completely forgot about his surroundings for a moment, causing him to let the cigarette burn almost entirely without ever flicking the ash.

You see, you and Taeyong have been dating for just a few months now. You were in that weird limbo stage where you were transitioning from casual dating to exclusivity. At least for you that’s how it was.

Taeyong had already moved past that stage months ago. He was serious about you, he was just being courteous by allowing you time to feel the same. But he was steadily growing impatient with you and all your sudden antics.

Things were going perfectly fine in the beginning. You were perfect, every bit of innocence and naivety that Taeyong wanted. You checked off all the boxes for him. And he didn’t need you to tell him that you felt the same way. Which is why it was pissing him off that you seemed to suddenly start pulling away from him slowly.

You’d begun acting strange. Avoiding him lately, whereas before you always obediently jumped at the chance to spend time with him. You also had refused to be intimate with him for a few weeks now, which wouldn’t have been a problem on it’s own. Taeyong was patient when it came to things like that and he was willing to go slow.

But in this instance Taeyong felt he had a right to be upset. Even in the few short months you’d been dating, Taeyong had managed to turn you into a full on nympho. Molding you into his perfect little sex kitten, ready to do whatever he wanted and whenever. What changed?

All of these things, amongst others, have led Taeyong to conclude that you obviously must be seeing another man. What else could it be? Things were going so well and then you suddenly changed up without any explanation.

And most recently Taeyong had caught you red handed in a lie.

He texted you earlier in the day to ask if he could come and see you. You replied back saying you had been at work. An obvious lie because Taeyong had been parked outside your house since last night, watching your front door to see if he could catch anyone coming in or out. He felt bad for stalking you, especially since he vowed to himself that he would try to be less invasive this time around.

He really liked you and didn’t want to scare you off.

So he left, giving up after nearly four hours of watching your house and not seeing anything out of the ordinary. He had only come back this afternoon in hopes that he might catch you on your lunch break. You worked nearby and it wasn’t uncommon for you to come home during this time.

He got excited when he pulled up to see your car parked out front already, the need to see you face to face building inside him. He hadn’t seen you in nearly a week, you claimed you were swamped with work and that’s why you didn’t have much time to spend with him like you normally did. Taeyong could tell you were lying to him, he had to stop himself from marching up to your apartment right then and there confronting you about your lies.

But he wanted to be sure. He needed concrete proof that he was right about what had been going on with you.

So he texted you a second time, asking if you had decided to come home for lunch today. He had seen you upstairs in your bedroom window, moving around, he knew you were home. If you texted him back with a different response he could confirm you were lying to him.

Unsurprisingly enough, you replied back, saying you were still at work and would probably be working late tonight.

He scoffed as he reread your message. Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he peered up at your bedroom window, straining his eyes to try and see what you were doing exactly.

Taeyong stayed put in the car for a while, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. He wanted to just march up there to you but he didn’t know what he’d even say.

Quite frankly, Taeyong was a little embarrassed. He wished he didn’t feel so affected by you. If it were any other girl he’d have dropped them a long time ago, deciding they weren’t worth the trouble.

But this was you we were talking about...His precious baby girl, the girl who he was actively trying to change for. He had been pegged as the crazy, overbearing, sometimes even violent boyfriend by nearly all of his ex’s.

They weren’t wrong actually. Taeyong was all of those things. But he was trying to suppress that kind of behavior just for you. He wanted you to want him too, he didn’t want to feel like he was trapping you into a relationship with him. Things were so different with you.

As angry and as hurt Taeyong was because of you lying to him, he still couldn’t bring himself to actually be angry with you. He was upset about the situation, but not at you. Honestly, once he saw you in person he wasn’t sure if he’d want to raise his voice and yell at you, or bury his head between your thick thighs.

God...it had been so long since he was inside you.

Only a week actually, but even that was too long for Taeyong.

Not wanting to sit and wrestle with his thoughts any longer Taeyong climbed out of the car. He jogged up the front steps to your door, trying to measure his breathing as he did so. He almost raised his hand to knock until he remembered you always kept a spare under a nearby potted plant.

He had to check under a few before he picked up the right one.

With your spare key now in hand, Taeyong could slip through the front door quietly. Even though during his stakeouts he never saw anyone go in or out of the house he still wondered if there was a chance you were being unfaithful. If not that, what else could it be?

Whatever it was, he was going to confront you about it today. No longer would he be left in the dark like this.

He unlocked the door, slipping in as quiet as a mouse. He pushed the door closed behind him, gently as not to alert you, wherever you were in the house. He kicked his shoes off at the door, knowing he’d be much quieter with sock clad feet instead of the heavy boots he had on previously.

Taeyong’s ears perked up as he heard you drop something on the floor upstairs. Considering the part of the ceiling he heard the noise from he guessed you were in the bathroom upstairs. Taeyong’s feet carried him up the stairs to your bedroom, the door was left open ajar already.

Carefully, he peeked through the crack to ensure you weren’t in the bedroom, even through the tiny space in the doorway Taeyong could see your figure standing in the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He pushed the door open enough to slip inside.

Taeyong stood under the arch of the doorway to your bathroom, watching you with curious eyes, your back was facing him so you were still unaware of his presence behind you, he could see you were struggling to open something.

Taeyong was about to speak up and announce himself to you until he took quick note of how your frustration turned to panic as you furiously twisted and pulled at the cap of…a pill bottle?

Now Taeyong was really curious.

With one last heave you released a large puff of air as the cap twisted off the bottle, Taeyong quickly sprung into action, taking two long strides across the expanse of the bedroom to get to where you stood in the bathroom.

He was too late though and you had already swallowed one of whatever those pills were.

“Taeyong?” You jumped, startled as Taeyong snatched one of your wrists to spin you around to face him.

Your cheeks turned red as you tried to inconspicuously hide your other hand that still held the bottle of pills behind your back.

“Give it.” Is all Taeyong said, his grip on your wrist tightening.

You shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, whenever Taeyong spoke in that demanding tone of his you’d always instantly obey and comply with whatever it was he wanted, not wanting to piss him off further.

But this time…this time you just couldn’t. You were too embarrassed, your hand felt frozen in place behind your back.

Growling, Taeyong spun you around and pushed you against the bathroom counter, pinning your arm behind your back as he retrieved the bottle of pills for himself.

You nearly toppled over because of his quick movements catching you so off guard. His firm hold on your arm pinned behind your back, catapulted you into the bathroom counter, your breasts plopping against the cool marble countertop.

Taeyong squinted his eyes to read the tiny print on the bottle, “What are these?” He asked, unfamiliar with the name of the pills.

You glanced up at him in the mirror, his jaw clenching as he tried to decipher what the long complicated name printed on the bottle meant.

It was as if you’d forgotten how to speak. Everything had happened so quickly and your mind was still taking a minute to process it all.

You had spent months trying to keep this one secret hidden from Taeyong. You went to any lengths possible if it meant protecting your secret. Even lying to him when necessary, which had become pretty frequent as of late.

All of it was catching up with you now.

Today would probably mark the end of your relationship, you were sure of it, there’s no way Taeyong would even be able to stomach the sight of you once he knows the truth. He’d probably think you were pathetic, too pathetic to be his girlfriend.

And you just couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye as your tower of lies came crashing down around you.

Your head fell, hanging shamefully as you tried to ignore Taeyong’s burning gaze.

Taeyong was growing impatient with you, wanting answers and wanting them now. His fingers tangled themselves in your hair, gripping your roots not so gently as he pulled your head back to force you to stare straight ahead, so you were looking directly at him in the mirror.

Your back arched instinctively as you stretched your body out to follow his hand, wincing slightly in pain as you did so.

“Tae…what are you doing here?-

You were cut off by Taeyong slamming his hips into your backside, pinning your own hips firmly against the counter as he trapped you under his weight. His hand in your hair moved to wrap around your throat from behind.

“I’m growing impatient with you Y/N. Tell me now and stop avoiding the question.” Taeyong said

“Tell me.”

Your eyes were slightly red, a little teary as you nervously glanced up at him once before parting your lips to speak.

Your eyes searched his black ones for approval, it’s like you were silently asking him without saying it,

Will you still want me after this?

Taeyong only softened temporarily as he took note of your reluctance, he used his free hand to rub small circles on your back to soothe you.

“T-They’re…appetite suppressants.” You answered shamefully.

Taeyong’s grip on you loosened as he listened.

“Appetite Suppressants?” He echoed, glancing down at the bottle and back at you.

Taeyong felt foolish and annoyed. You had been so secretive and sneaky lately, he was sure it was because you had another man in your life, not diet pills?

Taeyong screwed the cap of the bottle off with ease, dumping the rest of the pills down the toilet.

You had to swallow an audible groan. You had paid good money for those pills. They weren’t cheap over the counter pills, you had gone to your doctor to have them prescribe something stronger for you. Watching the pills be carelessly flushed down the toilet made you wince internally.

“You don’t need these. Stop taking them.” Taeyong demanded as he placed the empty bottle down on the counter.

“Understand?” He asked you, displeased with your lack of response.

“But…Taeyong. I need those.” You breathed softly, slowly raising up from the sink to turn around and face him.

“I need them Taeyong. I can’t just give them up, not yet, not till I’m-

“Why not?” He questioned.

Fat, ugly tears started to roll down your cheeks as you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I’m still not perfect enough for you yet.” You whispered softly.

It was hard to say it out loud but it was true. You constantly felt like a tub of lard next to Taeyong. You didn’t want to feel that way anymore. You wanted to walk beside him with pride. You couldn’t do that. Not yet at least. Not with your current body.

Taeyong really didn’t like that you were fighting him on this. You were so naturally submissive, always going out of your way to avoid conflict with people especially Taeyong, he could say almost anything and you would listen and obey to whatever he wanted or expected from you.

Mostly because it was just in your nature to be more on the submissive side, but also because you felt like you were incredibly lucky to have someone like Taeyong, who were you to be making demands?

Even when there were times that you disagreed on something and wanted to vocalize your opinion, Taeyong would whisper in your ear how much he loved you and how you just needed to let go and trust him.

Usually it worked too.

But Taeyong was in no mood to be that gentle with you, not that it would matter anyways. This is the one thing you know that you will always fight him on.

Your body.

Taeyong never entertained any conversations with you when it came to your weight and feeling insecure about your body. He waved them off as you being “silly” or something like that.

It wasn’t that Taeyong didn’t care. It’s just that he’s a yandere and has never known how to process any of his feelings in a relatively healthy way.

It’s easier for him to ignore the issue rather than confront it. He’s afraid he won’t know how to make you feel better. He doesn’t know how he can make you see the beauty that he sees.

“Don’t make me the reason that you’re desecrating your body this way.” Taeyong hissed, landing a harsh slap against your ass cheek for emphasis.

You yelped, already feeling the numb burning sensation spread across your afflicted skin.

Taeyong grabbed hold of your hair again, raising the top half of your body off the counter until your back was pressed flush up against his chest. He snaked one arm around your waist, locking you in place against him whilst the other remained tangled in your hair.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as you followed his hand to escape the painful friction at your roots.

You fell into place so naturally against Taeyong, your bodies molding together so perfectly.

Taeyong loved the way your body was so soft and squishy, he loved your thick full curves, your deliciously plump body is what had initially attracted him to you.

How could you possibly think that something already so perfect needed to be changed?

Taeyong pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, moving to nibble at your sensitive earlobe, “Darling. What’s it gonna take, hm?”

“What’s it gonna take to get you to stop obsessing over this?” Taeyong asked, his free hand beginning to roam your body.

“To stop…saying all these mean things about yourself?” Taeyong’s voice trailed as his hand slid down the length of your abdomen, his long slender fingers gliding across all of your rolls and stretch marks.

All you had on was an oversized t-shirt, Taeyong’s to be exact. One that he’d left over here before.

Seeing you in his clothes sent waves of electricity directly to the head of his cock, making him harden. He wanted you to wear his clothes all of the time, he wanted his smell to linger on your skin, letting everyone know you were his.

As much as he loved seeing you in his shirt he couldn’t wait to rip it off you.

Especially now with the way your hard nipples were poking through the thin cotton material, practically begging him to turn you around and assault them with his teeth and tongue.

He couldn’t wait.

He was going to do every dirty, lewd thing imaginable to you tonight. No part of your body would be left untouched once he was done.

He needed you to know that you’re beautiful. He had to show you just how in love with you and your body that he was. He didn’t know how to translate those feelings into words, just action.

Taeyong released his hold on your hair to be able to use both of his hands as he groped and fondled your body.

His hands moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his warm large hands through your shirt.

He kneaded them, moving to tug at your nipples through the fabric to make you mewl.

“Do you feel that baby?” Taeyong asked as he rolled his hips into your backside, his cock standing at full attention now, allowing you to easily feel his erection through his jeans.

“Do you see how badly I want you? Look at how hard I am and I’ve barely touched you.” Taeyong said , groaning as he rocked his hips against you once more. Loving the feeling of your round backside rubbing up against his cock. You were wet already and growing impatient with Taeyong’s teasing. Your clit throbbed painfully, desperately needing attention. You rutted your backside back against Taeyong, begging him to take you already.

Taeyong raised one of your legs up to rest on top of the counter, giving him perfect access to your pussy.

His shirt on you wasn’t long enough to cover the full expanse of your ass so as your leg raised up on the counter, your glistening folds were revealed to him.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? After all you’ve done, all the sneaking around and the hiding? Do you really think I should give you any relief?” Taeyong teased as he used his fingers to slide up and down your slick slit, collecting your juices on his fingers.

“Please…” You begged with a pout, pushing back against him as you felt his fingers on you.

“Aht. Aht. No moving around or I’ll have to pin you against the counter like before.” He threatened as he stopped you from grinding your hips down against his fingers.

Feeling defeated you sighed, relaxing into his touch as you tried not to think about how badly you wanted to cum.

“Don’t look away from the mirror or I’ll stop.” Taeyong warned.

You nearly turned your head away momentarily to peek at what he was doing but decided against it at the last second.

Taeyong knelt down until he was level with your pussy. His warm breath fanned your skin sending shivers down your spine.

Taeyong’s soft wet tongue licked a single stripe along your slit, stopping at your clit to give it a single kiss before enclosing his soft lips around your bundle of nerves.

Your mouth dropped open as a moan fell past your lips.

Taeyong’s tongue worked quickly, alternating between lapping at your folds and sucking on your engorged clit.

You gripped the edge of the counter for support. You wanted to pull away from him when the pleasure became too intense but he smacked your ass whenever you moved so much as an inch away.

He released your clit from his mouth with an audible popping sound as he did so. Standing back up at his full height Taeyong took pleasure in seeing the way your eyes followed him in the mirror, eagerly waiting for his next move.

Taeyong unbuckled his belt and tugged his jeans down just enough, his cock bouncing up and slapping his abdomen as he released it from the confines of his briefs. A bead of precum was leaking from his head. Taeyong teased you by rubbing the head of his cock against your folds.

“Do you want to come? Wanna come as I pound this perfect pussy of yours with my cock? I don’t think you deserve it. You’ve been a bad kitten lately haven’t you? Sneaking around, hiding things from me, saying awful things about yourself, and making me worry…” Taeyong said, resting his chin against your shoulder as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered, grinding your ass back against him.

“Are you really though?” Taeyong asked, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Yes. I’m so sorry.” You whined, growing desperate for release.

“Are you ever going to do something like this again, kitten?” He asked, slipping his hands under your shirt to roll your nipples in between his fingers.

“I won’t. I swear.”

Taeyong smirked, loving the sound of desperation in your voice.

“Do you promise? Tell daddy you promise to never do this again and he’ll give you what you want okay?”

He didn’t have to tell you twice before you were repeating over and over like a mantra, “I promise I’ll never do it again, daddy.” You fluttered your lashes at him in the mirror, hoping he’d sense your sincerity.

That was all Taeyong needed to see before backing up and sinking his cock deep into your pussy.

He groaned as your walls hungrily sucked him in, greedily accepting every inch of him.

You arched your back, raising your ass even higher in the air for him.

Taeyong was relentless in how he fucked you. His nails painfully dug into the flesh on your soft hips as he held onto them for support whilst he pounded you from behind.

“Do you hear how wet you are? This pussy is practically milking my cock.” Taeyong moaned, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

He was right. You were so wet, the obscene squelching noises your pussy was making around his cock bounced off the four walls of the bathroom.

“Taeyong…” You moaned.

He moved one hand off your hip to rest against your hand that was lying on the counter, he grabbed your hand to lace your fingers together.

“That’s right baby. Look at yourself, look at how well you’re taking my cock…such a good girl for me, my beautiful good girl.”

You could’ve come right then and there just because of how dirty the words coming from Taeyong’s mouth were.

You felt warm and happy as he praised you, calling you a good girl for taking him so well.

Taeyong continued drilling into you, never losing the rhythm he had set or the speed he was going at. He kept repeating in your ear over and over how pretty you looked and how beautiful you were.

Usually compliments like that went in one ear and out the other, you never liked to dwell on them for long because you just didn’t believe them.

But now…right here, right now. Watching yourself in the mirror as Taeyong fucked you, the faces you were making, and the way your body instinctively rolled and grinded back against him.

Even you couldn’t deny the beauty of the scene before you.

You could see him in the mirror, watching as his hands gripped and groped at your flesh, his desire and want for you evident on his face, evident in the manner at which he was thrusting deep inside you as if his life depended on it.

Thrusting with a desperation that matched yours, you needed this, to feel him inside of you, filling and stretching your walls with a subtle sweet pain.

“Taeyong, I’m gonna come.” You warned, feeling yourself clench around him.

The essence of your shared arousal started to drip down your thigh.

“Then come for me.” Taeyong answered, reaching his hand around your waist to rub your clit, propelling you further into your state of euphoria.

You rocked your hips back against him, chasing after your own orgasm.

You moved to throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder but Taeyong was quick to push your head forward, reminding you with a slap on your ass to not look away from the mirror.

“I want you to watch as you come on my cock.” Taeyong growled, determination clear in his voice as he unsheathed his cock completely from your warmth only to slam his hips back into yours.

You squealed as Taeyong angled his thrusts upward to hit your g-spot. Your eyes welled with tears, and your hand gripped the edge of the counter as you braced yourself.

It only took Taeyong a few more strokes before you were clenching around him uncontrollably, your pussy creaming on his cock. You collapsed on the counter, too tired to hold yourself up anymore. You winced a little as Taeyong continued to drill into you, the pleasure turning into a slight burn as he overstimulated you.

You wiggled your hips, trying to bring your hiked up leg down from the counter whilst also inching away from Taeyong’s thrusts.

“Stay still.” Taeyong grunted, pinching your outer thigh.

Taeyong abused your poor cunt until he was ready to fill you with his seed. He made sure he was stuffed deep inside of you when he painted your walls with his cum.

Once the two of you had caught a minute to catch your breath, Taeyong carefully pulled out of you, making a mess between your thighs as he did so. Your empty pussy was now clenching on air, inadvertently pushing Taeyong’s cum out of your hole causing it to run down your inner thighs.

Taeyong leaned down to kiss the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you came down from your high.

Finally, Taeyong pushed himself off of you to allow you to rise up from the counter. He turned you around to face him so he could properly kiss you on the lips.

“Wait, where are you going?” Taeyong asked as you kissed him before untangling your limbs from his.

“To shower?” You answered, one hand already on the nozzle of the tap to turn the shower on.

You were a sweaty, sticky mess, in desperate need of a nice long shower.

Taeyong smirked, pulling you back into his chest, “We’re still not done here.”

Your face must’ve said it all because before you got the chance to whine about being tired Taeyong was already pressing you up against the wall.

“Spread your legs again. Nice and wide for me...Daddy’s going to make sure you get all clean again…”

#nct x reader #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct smut reactions #nct yandere smut #nct yandere #yandere smut #yandere nct #chubby reader #chubby smut #chubby!reader #lee taeyong #lee taeyong smut #taeyong smut #yandere taeyong

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hanayumi · 3 years ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧-𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

— ft. mikey, chifuyu, baji, mitsuya, draken, kazutora (tr) || tiny nsfw // timeskip characs. // fem!reader

➯ re: the tiny marks you leave in their lives

framed on his desk, fogging up his window, hidden under the fluffy linens of his bedsheets — little pieces of you are everywhere.

CHIFUYU —

Clinging to your shoulders he will find his favourite sweater — the one you purloined when you giggled so sweetly and told him it might just look better on you. It does. But I like it better when it’s on the floor, he murmurs. Fuzzy wool knitted into clothing by your pretty hands and smelling insistently of him can never compare to your soft skin under his fingertips. Everything is his as much as everything is yours.

Fluffy socks, Christmas stockings, denim and corduroy jackets — shared, shared, shared. After all, what is clothing if it doesn’t remind you that you belong to him?

MITSUYA —

On his desk. Lining every counter. Cluttering every shelf. Everywhere sits a pretty picture of you, smiling and reflecting rainbows back at him (he always smiles back). No, it’s not obsessive if she’s my girlfriend. People like to tease him to hell for it but he doesn’t give a shit as long as they know you’re his. An unlocked phone and there you are again, messy hair and fading gradually into sleep with his mug of coffee cupped in your hands — a fragment of precious time snatched and immortalised by a snap of his camera. He has more pictures stockpiled somewhere, somehow.

A notification from you. What’s for dinner? His beloved is calling.

MIKEY —

In his bed that’s always too big for one, under his blankets that are fuzzy around the edges (they got stuck in the dryer once) — is where he will find you all curled up and fast asleep. It’s your territory. Your blankets live here, too (he stole ‘em). A nuzzle to your neck; a little kiss planted on the crown of your head. An overexcited man snuggling his way into your cozy cocoon. When your eyes open he’s staring right back. His limbs are entangled with yours and everything smells of you — your cleaning detergent, your bath soap and sweet, sweet roses — just how he likes it.

Closer and closer still. He keeps pressing closer so every inch of you is infused with him.

BAJI —

Your soft humming catches his attention when he stops and stares from the doorway. The fragrance of flowers permeating the living room as you water the roses. Your hips, hypnotic, swaying to a rhythm you’ve constructed yourself. A greedy look in his eyes. Him, grinning, sneaking up closer to wrap his arms around your waist, deep voice likened to a whisper floating into your eardrums — g’morning, kitten. You look like you’re having fun.

Sparkles in your eyes when you greet him back; a giggle and a loving kiss to his lips. Today there are roses sitting in the vase. The week after there will be peonies. Blues, pinks, yellows and whites — your own idea of what makes a home. He thinks home is wherever you are — wherever your form greets him with a sight for sore eyes in the mornings.

DRAKEN —

In the back of his closet, tucked away — a box with your name written somewhere on it. The date of the first time you held hands and the date of your first kiss; important milestones archived in a place that you have no idea exists. Butter-smooth sentiment and adoration that he hides right under your nose, under the pile of old clothing he no longer wears since you started bringing him shopping (albeit he goes begrudgingly). Under his tough exterior that always screams defiance and strength — reduced to softness and compliance by a stroke of your finger.

When he leaves for work he leaves your favourite scented candles burning on the mantle. He breathes in the smell — breathes in you — and hopes you won’t find the box for another few years. (He would combust on the spot.)

KAZUTORA —

When did it start? When he caught your eye in the once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence of him going back to school. When he turned himself in mere weeks later — barely enough time to get to know you. When you began sending him letters upon letters, your pretty words adorning a page and sometimes three, sometimes four, sometimes too much for a carrier pigeon to hold. The bars are thick and at night the guilt is crippling. But in the hazy morning dew there is always your letter to look forward to. Today I went shopping with Chifuyu. Today there was a cat that reminded me of you. Ah, I miss you, you write.

The outside world has not forgotten him after all. When he gets out of jail tomorrow you’ll be the first thing he sees. The first person he’ll ever reveal his whole heart to — all bloody veins and throbbing tissue and tender cartilage. So that you can run your fingers through every mottled scar and whisper at long last how much you love him. Ah, he misses you.

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loneworldgazer · 3 years ago

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when they they when when

about: things they do that fluster you (maybe idk do i look like i know you /j)

pairings: haitani brothers x reader

a/n: very short from the dusty drafts!

warnings: suggestive!

rindou

☆rindou lets you exercise with him or rather.. help him exercise. he lets you sit on his back when he does push ups or hug him like a koala or hold him down during sit ups, he loves seeing you short circuit when you look up to see his face after he hums to get your attention when you start to daydream so he snaps you out of it with a sound. it makes him give you a catty grin while he countinues to do whatever he was doing.

☆ any flowery scent soothes him, smell like lavender and he relaxes into your chest and rubs against you like a kitten being intoduced to catnip; he'll be addicted to you.

☆ rindou is a gift giver, the gifts are mostly from his fans so they range from chocolates to flowers so it kinda look likes it's a confession from him eventhough it's not. (they are)

ran

☆ ran has such pretty fingers and you found out that he's done some finger exercises and uses the right lotion and routine to have his hands feel nice and smooth, he prides himself on taking care of his hands when you tug on his hands just to hold it when you both walk elsewhere.

☆ he makes you sit on his lap whenever deciding to watch a movie and loves the way you paw on his chest when you felt like you're slipping off him and he holds on your thighs in place to bring you closer to him.

☆ when you have a hard time to sleep, he usually places a hand over your eyes when your eyes flicker open time to time and tells you to sleep over and over again. if you really can't, he'll pull you onto his hard chest and hum softly; making you feel the vibrations of his voice.

☆ ran loves spoiling you with plushies, the type to hear you like teddybears then it's half of it on your bedside or octo plushies and all of them perched on your bed like they're gonna pounce on you.

☆ it's been a habit from the start that his mom asks him that the way to greet someone (in other words advancing in romance) is to kiss them on the hand and he never fails to forget it like it's a life lesson.

haitani brothers

☆ they'll fight for you, they'll go through hell and back so you'll have a good night's rest. even if you object to their protection and say you can defend yourself, they find sneaky ways to put in their fighting effort to protect you

☆ they like walking around shirtless, the weather being hot is another thing but also teasing you when you can't stop staring at them and their tattoos is another thing. when they flex their muscles or stretch their limbs out, they hope the sight burns in your memory forever.

☆ the brothers let you steal their hoodies and it's the best feeling in the world when its snug and warm against you, they usually snatch them back without warning sometimes and almost stripped you whole-

tag tag: @lucylicious , @makimoo , @haruchyio , @fyotituti , @coconois , @gyros-cum-sock , @ashrakat-lovesbaji , @dragon-chica , @erisamorette , @crapimahuman , @kawaii-desv , @xxrwzy , @haitani-heaven, @erinhaitani, @nameless-shrimp

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Note

Please do 61 with Ransom.

61) “If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.”

Hmmm, more OTP for all you lovely hoes! You nonnies just keep lobbing em right at me.

This ended up sparking something in me and I ended up writing a full length fic about more escapades with the asshole bunch.

Tagging my babes @chrissquares @stargazingfangirl18 (I’m targeting you a little with this one Siri cuz lacrosse Ransom is def wearing Fila) @subtlebucky @egcdeath

Quick, dirty, outdoor smut!!! No minors!!!

You and Ransom had decided to meet at the park with the other couples in his little asshole group of friends.

It was finally starting to warm up some, and when the boys had brought up getting out the sticks for some lacrosse you had jumped on it. Ransom didn’t have the balls to tell you it was really just a guy thing, you looked so excited about it.

He parked the beemer at the park entrance and grinned when he saw your Volvo already there. He grabbed his sticks and the cooler full of beer from the trunk and headed towards the field where he saw the rest of you gathered.

He groaned as he drew closer and finally got a good look at you as you waved at him. You looked like a preppy dream in a polo shirt and tiny shorts, a headband around your forehead and knee high socks under your cleats.

“Hey baby!” You said giddily as you ran towards him with your stick slung over your shoulders. “Can you believe I still fit in my high school uniform?”

“I think you’re taking this a little too seriously sweetheart.” He grinned, dropping the cooler and catching you when you jumped into his arms and pressed your lips to his with a satisfied hum.

“Says the man who showed up wearing his letterman’s jacket.” You teased as you hopped down and helped him carry the cooler the rest of the way.

“Yeah? Well if you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.” He purred in your ear as you set down the cooler, wrapping his stick around your back and drawing you close.

“Ha! I’m not playing lacrosse in pants, Hugh!” You said with a shake of your head. “But keep that in mind for later. Can you believe none of the other girls brought sticks?”

“Honey, none of them play lacrosse.” He chided as he watched you stretch.

“Well then what’s the point of... oh goddamn it!” You rolled your eyes as you stood up. “This was supposed to be another boy’s outing where I sit with the other girls and get wine drunk wasn’t it? Don’t answer that! Chauvinist assholes...”

He just chuckled as he watched you mutter to yourself angrily, grabbing your extra sticks and storming off towards the other girls, gesturing wildly as you tried to go over the basics with them.

“So, the girls are playing then?” Dylan asked as he came to stand by Ransom, grabbing an IPA from the cooler and taking a gulp.

“Sure seems that way.” Ran answered as he watched you shove a stick at Lexi and make a throwing motion that she tried to emulate feebly.

“Is this gonna be another day of your girlfriend showing us all up, Drysdale?” Chaz asked as he joined the two of them, chuckling as they tried to figure out exactly what you were trying to instruct the girls on now. “Cuz I don’t think my ego can take it.”

“I dunno what to tell you man.” Ran said with a shrug, grabbing himself a beer and drinking deep. “Quit inviting us to this shit if you don’t want her to hand your ass back to you.”

“Alright douchebags, lets play some lacrosse!” You screamed at them, a massive grin splitting your face.

“I can’t decide if having her on my team or playing against her will be worse.” Logan groaned as the four men walked towards the field apprehensively.

“Alright, should we split this up by couples or what?” Dylan asked as Lexi moved to stand next to him.

“Sounds good to me.” You beamed.

“Great, so Y/N, Ran , Chaz and Brit, you guys can play together and me, Jess, Logan, and Lex will be the other team. Girls play defense.”

“Sounds good.” Ran said fast before you had a chance to start an argument, guiding you away from the center of the field quickly.

“But I play attack, babe.” You whined as he walked next to you and stopped in front of the goal.

“Yeah, I think that you playing attack might be a little too much all at once sweetie.” He said with a shrug as he moved to middle position. “Just channel that frustration babe, you’ll do great!”

You just chewed on your lip as you watched Logan and Chaz grapple for the ball. Logan won out, barreling over Chaz and spinning past Ran like a pro. You smirked as you pivoted towards him, bracing yourself as you charged each other.

He shifted his weight to spin around you and you grinned before full body checking him, ripping the stick out of his hand and helicoptering it out of his grip as you tossed him over your shoulder. You scooped the ball up and lobbed it to Ransom as you sprinted up the field. He passed it back to you when Dylan tried to take him down and you snatched it out of the air before diving around a confused looking Lexi and chucking the ball at the net, grinning when it sailed past Jess for a point.

“Goddamn it!” Dylan groaned as you jogged past him back to your position, giving Ransom a celebratory high five that he followed up with a smack on the ass as he grinned at you.

Logan was still trying to stand up as you returned to your defensive position, glaring at you as he ran a hand through his hair.

“How the fuck was that not a foul?!” He seethed at you.

“A foul?!” You shouted with an air of disdain. “Don’t be a pussy Van Doren! You bring that weak shit to my house and I’m serving it right back to you! Right babe?”

“That’s right babe!” Ran shouted back to you as he shrugged apologetically at Logan when he stalked past him.

The rest of the game went about the same, you hardly let anyone past and Logan flinched so bad every time you got near him it was easy for your team to dominate. Dylan finally called a stop after an hour, he and Logan covered in dirt and bruises from the rough play.

“That’s it, we’re done. I need a fucking drink.” He huffed as he dragged himself off the field, Lexi bouncing next to him excitedly. Apparently, one of the things you had been teaching the girls was how to hit, and she had cracked Chaz and Ransom a couple of times. You grinned and congratulated her and the other girls on a game well played as you moved to grab a porter from the cooler.

“Jesus Christ, Drysdale. That woman is a damn menace.” Logan groaned as he grabbed a bag of ice and pressed it against his ribs.

“Yeah, how the fuck do you keep up with her?” Chaz asked, shaking his head as sipped his lager. “She’s barely sweating.”

“I don’t even know man.” He said with a shrug, gasping for air as he chugged his IPA. “She’s a fucking pistol.”

“Not the word I’d use but whatever.” Logan said, annoyed at you two.

“Shut up, L, you’re just pissed she beat the shit out of you.” Dylan said with a grin. “Where you going, Ran?”

“Gotta take a leak!” Ransom lied as he jerked his head towards the trees suggestively after making eye contact with you.

“Scuse me gals, I gotta help Hugh with something.” You said around a grin after chugging the rest of your beer.

“Jesus, you two will do it anywhere, huh?” Brittney said with an eye roll.

You just shrugged at her as you jogged after Ransom towards the small clutch of pines.

Ransom grabbed you around your waist and swung you off your feet when you reached him, making you squeal before he smashed his lips against yours.

“You were amazing.” He purred as he pressed you up against a tree, running his lips up and down your throat and making you whine.

“Yeah, I’m a fucking legend babe. I told you.” You muttered around a grin. “Did you see those hits I landed?”

“Mmhm, sure did.” He mumbled, nipping at the hollow behind your ear that he knew drove you crazy as his hips ground against you.

“You ever eat a legend’s pussy, Hugh?” You teased, starting to shove his head down between your legs.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Y/N!” He whined as you forced him to his knees. “I was kinda hoping we could both get something out of this.”

“Sorry babe, middle gets whatever attack says they get.” You said with a shrug as you slid your shorts off and hooked your leg over his shoulder. “Make me come with that pretty mouth and maybe I’ll let you get your dick wet.”

“Bitch.” He murmured as he started brushing his lips over your inner thigh, no real malice in his tone as he gazed at you through his lashes.

“That’s right Hugh, I’m the fucking bitch. Now lick it.”

He ran his nose over your clothed core and inhaled deeply before shoving your panties aside. You moaned as he dragged his tongue over your slit, lapping up the evidence of your arousal before swirling his tongue through your folds.

His hands moved under your ass and tilted your hips towards his face, giving him even more access to your dripping heat. Your fingers gripped his hair painfully when he flicked his tongue over your asshole in a quick series of kitten licks before moving it in a heavy stripe back up to your clit.

You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming when he slid a finger inside you, curling it in a come hither motion at the same time he pressed his tongue against your clit. He lashed your bundle of nerves lightly as you writhed against him, your head thumping back against the tree as he slipped in a second finger.

His lips wrapped around your clit as he started fucking you with his digits, curling and twisting them inside you so he hit every spot he knew would drive you absolutely crazy. You felt him grin against you as he shook his head to bury himself deeper in your folds, groaning when he felt you clench around his fingers.

“Fuck, Ransom! I’m so close.” You panted breathlessly, grinding your pussy into his face as you neared the edge.

You felt him slide his pinky into your puckered hole, spearing past the tight ring of muscle until you felt the cool metal of his ring against your entrance and you fucking lost it.

Your thighs tried to crush his skull as you came violently, somehow managing to swallow the shriek that tried to rip out of your chest. He moaned as he ran his tongue over your pussy to collect your release as it ran over his fingers while you clenched and fluttered around him.

“How was that, champ?” He said around a wicked grin once you finally released his head, sliding his hands up your body as he stood up.

“Good... it was good.” You panted as he buried his face in your neck.

“Yeah? Good enough for you to help me out, babe?” He asked, grinding his hips into you to show you how hard he was at the same time he wrenched your polo and sports bra up to expose your breasts.

“I think we can work something out.” You murmured as he palmed your breast with one hand while the other splayed over your ass.

“What did you have in mind, sweetheart?” He hummed as his lips moved over your throat softly.

“Oh, I dunno. Something extra special for my favorite middle.” You purred, pushing him away from you a little bit so you could turn around.

“Fuck, really?” He beamed, running his hand over your ass as he pressed you into the tree.

“Really, you did such a good job, baby, you deserve a reward.” You said as you peeked are him over your shoulder. “Now fuck my ass until I come again, Hugh.”

He chuckled darkly into your hair as he slid his shorts down his legs and drew his cock out of his boxer briefs. You moaned as he ran his length through your slick before he pressed his tip against your pretty hole. The groan he let out as he speared into you made your pussy clench around nothing, fluttering as your body tried to draw him as deep as possible until he was fully sheathed in you and his hips were resting against your ass.

“Shit. Oh my god.” He hissed into your shoulder as he stilled his hips for a beat. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled as the tree bark scratched at your cheek. “Could you move? I’d like to have another orgasm sometime before noon.”

“So fucking bossy.” He groaned before sliding out of you halfway and slamming back into you, making you yelp.

You moaned as he finally started fucking you, his hips moving at a vicious pace as he bounced you against the tree. He wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed lightly as he drew you back against his chest.

“Love when you let me fuck your ass, baby.” He growled in your ear as his hips slapped against your cheeks, making you mewl as slick started leaking down your thighs from your aching pussy. “Love how wet you get and how you strangle my cock. You want my fingers in that tight little pussy?”

“Yeah.” You whined as he teased his fingers over your clit. “Need you in my pussy so bad Ran, I’m gonna come.”

He sucked your earlobe between his teeth and spanked your pussy before shoving three fingers inside you as you came with a shriek, your body arching against him as you spasmed uncontrollably.

“Jesus, you’re squeezing me so good.” He groaned as you came down, sobbing with pleasure and sagging against him. “I’m gonna fill this ass up.”

You felt his cock throbbing inside you at the same time he twisted his fingers and you screamed, your release gushing out of you and soaking his thighs as he filled you with his spend, pressing you against the tree and sinking his teeth into your shoulder as his hips jerked. He groaned into your hair as he shoved his cum deep inside you and pulled his fingers from your swollen cunt.

“Holy fuck.” He mumbled into your hair before sucking his fingers into his mouth and groaning at your taste.

“Yeah.” You murmured as you yanked your bra and shirt back down and pulled your panties back into place before bending over to slide your shorts back on. “You should’ve lettered in that.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: Not just regular assholes, preppy jock assholes!!!

#natalie answers #smut prompts #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom smut #ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #smut #eighteen and over #eighteen plus #do not interact if you are a minor

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kenganparadise · 4 years ago

Note

Heyy! May I request a smut scenario where Raian's animalistic S/o is in heat and breeds them?

OH YES THANK YOU!! I‘ve actually been working on this for a little bit then I got this request!

Warnings- Omegaverse elements, rough sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, doggy style, mating press, it gets NASTY.

Word count- 2258

I’d like to personally apologize to every person who reads this. I’m sorry for being fucking ✨G R O S S✨ and ✨H O R N Y✨

🔞WARNING NSFW AHEAD- IT GETS NASSSTY🔞

It was quite unbearable to say the least. It was almost painful between your legs. Your heat was torture, especially since your mate has been out on a mission. He wasn‘t here to help you out. Your legs were crossed tightly. The ache had spread from your core all the way through your abdomen, it just barely pricked your lungs. There was an intense throbbing. You are quite literally a bitch in heat, and you hated it.

The pulsating between your legs was enough already, you sauntered to the fridge to get a cold bottle of water. You cracked it open and brought the bottle to your lips. You gulped down as much as possible. Your eyebrows were tightly knit together. Your phone was plugged in, though it was turned completely off. You knew if you didn’t you’d call your mate and sob for him to come home. He’s somewhere unknown, you know he’d only rile you up and make things worse. Your panties and a portion of your pants were soaked with slick. It made it uncomfortable to sit or even lay down. It a little too late to take your heat suppressants. They could help alleviate some of the symptoms, however you ran out a while back and had yet run to get some more. The empty box was sitting on the stove, practically mocking you. You didn’t feel like leaving your warm home, so stuck you were to deal with your own hormones. Your whole body was sticky with sweat, you felt feverish almost. The fact that it was also the middle of summer didn’t help at all. You sauntered back to the bedroom and plopped face first into the bed. You shoved your nose Into the blankets. It didn’t help that the bed itself reeked of Raian. You couldn’t stop your body as you crawled to his side of the bed. You pressed your nose into mattress and inhaled deeply. His sent was thick, musky, pungent, and overwhelming. Your instincts kicked in harder. You pressed your face into his pillow. You wrapped your arms around it, unable to control your movements. You inhaled again and again trying to take in as much as possible, only making your heat worse. An idea springs into your head and you shoot up. You abandon his pillow, You crawl off the bed and land on the ground and scramble to dresser. You no longer have control of your body. You pull out t-shirts and hoodies, Pants, socks, jackets. You press your nose into each one. You strip off your sweat-soaked shirt and pull on Raian’s. You take off your shorts and panties and put on a pair of his boxers. You throw on one of his track suit jackets he likes to jog in. His overbearing scent is all around you, eloping your body. His disgusting sweaty scent is beautifully overwhelming. The heat between your legs is very overwhelming as well. This only managed to make things worse. You scramble back to the bed carrying a load of his clothing In your arms, as much as you can carry. Your body is moving completely on its own, you lay in the pile of blankets, pillows and Raian’s clothing. You hug Raian’s pillow to your chest again, burying your face in it. You can’t control yourself, you buck your hips forword into nothing. You squeeze your thighs together, the slick makes them slide against each other. You try to get something. You can’t get the thought of Raian out of your head. Your hand makes it’s way between your sticky legs. Your fingers are already pushing inside. Raian made it clear to you already that he wants you to bear his children. At this very moment you want that more than anything. You’d want to be swollen with his pups, you’ll give him as many as he desires. As of right now you are at your most fertile, he could easily impregnate you at this very moment. And good god does that turn you on more than it should. You know it’d turn him on too. Your hair stands on end just thinking about how that would excite Raian if he knew. You know he’s just itching to fill you up.

Unbeknownst to you, Raian is coming home early. He finished up and is eager to come home. He tried texting you... and calling you, but he got no reply. He was quite frustrated. He hated when you didn’t answer him but it was in the dead of night. You are most likely asleep. He fumbles to get the door open. When he does finally swing it open, your scent hits him. He breathes in deeply. Your pheromones fill his nostrils and penetrate deeply into his lungs. The scent of your heat alone is enough to get his blood pumping. He pauses in the door frame, then he closes the door and locks it behind him. He can practically taste you on his tongue already. You don’t hear him as he rips through your home to your bedroom like a madman. It’s not till he grabs your wrist and rips your hand away from your throbbing core. You flinch, getting surprised that he’s actually standing before you. His chest his heaving, his mouth is salivating just at the sight and smell of you, his cock is already itching to be inside you. You almost can’t believe he’s actually standing here before you. He is with you now. To anyone the sight of Raian in this very moment would be a terrifying to behold, but to you it’s something you’ll treasure. “R-Raian!” You call out his name, tears prick your eyes. You throw your arms around his torso and burry your face in his chest. You can’t believe it, he’s actually here. Raian is startled to say the least, normally he’d just tense up when you hug him, but he places a hand on your shoulder. The desire in his body grows. He grips your shoulders and pulls you away. Your hurriedly wipe the tears from your eyes. “Rai-Raian I need- I need you please!!” There’s a feral look in your eyes, its the only thing you can think about. “Fuck, babe, you want me that bad-“ “Raian!!” Your eyebrows are knit tightly together. “Just fucking hurry up!” You order him. Raian is once again taken aback, your heat must be really bad. He just chuckles and unzips then takes off his track jacket. He pushes you down on the bed, taking of his shirt before climbing on top of you. Your lips are already on his neck, biting at the skin. His hand travels to between your legs. “Holy shit, babe, you-“ “Shut the fuck up, Raian!” You’re not in the mood to hear his smart mouth. Raian just brushes you off. He kinda feels glad he doesn’t have to do any foreplay to get you all hot and bothered. You’re already wanting him desperately. You bite down on his neck again, he hisses. He kicks off his pants along with his boxers, he sits back on his heels to pull off his boxers that your wearing. He lifts them up, pulling on the waste band, before can teases you, you smack his chest lightly “Will you just fuck a baby into me already?!” You yell at him, not realizing what you’ve said. He freezes, slowly his facial features change. A wicked smile spreads across his face. You can see almost all of his sharp teeth as he laughs wickedly. “It’s about time.” He says darkly. “A baby? Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you full of my pups now, don’t cha?” Is eyes are full of a dark feral look. Before you could say anything Raian snatches your hips turning you over on your stomach. “I’ll fuck you till your nice and round! Is that what you want?! You’ll be my own personal cumdump!” He sneers in your ear. “I’m not stopping till I knock you up, bitch.” He lifts your hips off the bed, shoving a few pillows underneath them to keep them nice a propped up for him. The blunt end of his cock prods into your opening, he snaps his hips forward. Your back arches feeling his cock all the way inside of you. “Raian!” You cry out, your fists are full of the sheets beneath you. Both his hands are by your shoulders. He dips his head down, you feel his teeth sink into the flesh of your back, right by the nape of your neck. He begins a brutal pace, the sound of his hips slamming against your ass fills the room. He begins littering your back with bite marks, he sinks his teeth into whatever flesh he can find. You stuff your mouth with the blankets beneath you, trying to muffle your cries. Raian is fucking you like an animal, he’s almost feral.

Your heat most likely forced him into his own rut. You feel his hot wet tongue on your neck, he growls. “Missed you. So much.” Is all you can make out. He lifts your hips up higher. His hands are full of your ass and he pushes your hips back onto his. He trusts up to meet them. All you can do is lay limp and let him pound away into you. Your first orgasm nears, it’s going to be one of many tonight, the knot ties in your stomach. Raian’s hips hurry against yours. His pace is still brutal. You feel a sharp sting as Raian laughs. He smacks your ass again and again. You scream into the sheets. Raian’s fingers tangle in your hair, his nails digging into your scalp. He yanks you back, pulling your head out of the sheets. “Can’t hear you, Kitten! Louder!” He screams from behind you. You reply with a loud groan. Raian laughs again. His hips stutter, he pushes himself as deep as possible inside you. He grips your hips, pulling your ass flush against him. His cock sputters, the feeling of him filling you up with his seed- its a familiar one. Your womb is being filled to the brim with another of Raian’s massive loads. He lets out a guttural sound, like one an animal would make and not a human. He pulls his cock out and flips you on your back, he forces your legs apart. You feel a little disappointed feeling your orgasm being forgotten. He points your aching pussy toward him. Slowly his cum begins oozing out of your gaping pussy. He’s got a wicked, feral look in his eyes. He take his thumb, pushing his seeping seed back into your fucked out hole. He shoves his index finger inside. Every time his cum threatens to leave you, he fingers it back inside. He’s feeling quite generous in this moment, his thumb brush’s over your clit, rubbing quick tight circles. That along with his fingers knuckle-deep within you is enough to have you moaning again. His white cum coats his fingers. His refractory period is close to over, you can see his dick twitching back to life, almost ready to go again. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy. He points them toward your lips. “Suck.” He commands. You obey him. You take his fingers into your mouth and lick them clean. His cum mixed with yours is bitter, metallic, and disgusting but you love the gross taste. His cock is hard again and itching to be in your pussy once more. He’s inside you again. Rain pushes your legs against your chest. His hips pin yours down, he’s trying to get as deep as possible. His hips snap against yours in short, deep thrusts. Raian rarely ever does missionary, let alone mating press. Not only that but he’s still thumbing your clit. It must be the excitement that you’re hopefully to be pregnant, maybe its got him feeling generous. His face is inches from yours, he’s still got his signature sick smile. “Ughhh I can’t wait to breed you.” He growls as his hips quicken. “I can’t wait for everyone to see you all swollen.” He continues, that feral look has yet to disappear. “I’m gonna dump my cum in you over and over and over again, till you’re crammed full~” His thumb quickens. The knot that was once abandoned reforms. Your orgasm approaches rapidly. Raian’s nasty words along with his cock making short thrusts and the way he touches your clit is completely mind-numbing. Your face winces as the knot finally snaps. You let out a high pitched cry as your orgasm racks through your body. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your gut churns, your pussy clenches hard around Raian. Watching and feeling you cum is enough to spur on another orgasm for him. You barely feel his though your own. Slowly you come down from your high. Your legs still twitch and shake. He’s wary not to overstimulate you, you’ve got a long night ahead of you. Raian pushes off you. “Fuuuuk babe! That was hot.” He chuckles. You feel too full, Raian stuffed you up good. The look in his eyes tell you that he wants to go again. Well, At least your heat is being taken care of. You place a hand under your swollen tummy. You can already imaging it being fuller. Raian leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Now.. let’s find something to plug you up with!” Raian says as he barks out another laugh.

#Hormone more like WHOREmone amirite guys #kure raian #nasty

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sanityshorror · 3 years ago

Text

Stupid (and slightly cursed) Jason the Toymaker HCs:

(place all blame my hazy, sleep deprived, fried brain for this.)

Chocy Milk Supremacy:

Jason has a legitimate and severe addiction to fucking chocolate milk, or as he calls it, “choccy milk.” If he hears anyone ever attempting to claim or imply a better beverage exists, he actually gets really, reaaaallllly mad and will yell at them for having what he deems an atrocious opinion. The man is so goddamn serious about choccy milk supremacy that he's killed multiple of his ‘chosen ones’ after finding out they did not share his sentiments.

No but really, his choccy milk addiction is so out of control that he's licked it off both Candy and Nathan's faces multiple damn times without any warning. The man cannot control himself when it comes to choccy milk. He's also snatched it right out of anyone's hands if they had it around him.

Salt Obsession:

Jason also has a very odd obsession with salt. Anything food that eats he dumps a freaking PILE of salt on.

Nathan got a salt lamp once and caught Jason in his room licking and chewing on it when he thought Nathan wasn't home. Jason then proceeded to run out of his room... taking the salt lamp with him. 💀

It's been agreed that salt lamps are no longer allowed in the mansion.

Drunk Jason:

Jason cannot handle his liquor at all and makes very questionable choices when he drinks. To list a few examples:

on multiple occasions, he's decided it was a good idea to let Helen give him tattoos... resulting in him now having the following very unfortunate but thankfully small and easily hideable tattoos: himself but as Minecraft character; a salt shaker; the word 'kitten' in small cursive writing with a pink heart to dot the 'i'; the words 'salty redhead h0e' (Helen's [accurate] nickname for him.

Drunk Jason also decided attempting to pierce his tongue with a toothpick, by himself, in Jeff's bathroom of all places, was a good idea. This went about as well as you think it did.

after trying to keep up with EJ drinking vodka, Jason wound up going into a rabbit hole of flat earth conspiracy videos on YouTube...and was convinced for the rest of the night that the earth was actually flat. Jason is no longer allowed to drink vodka.

Secret Clothing:

He'll never admit to it but Jason actually really likes the hippie style and aesthetic.

He has a bunch of tie-dye hoodies and sweatpants that he sleeps in or wears when he's feeling lazy (with the door locked of course).

For years no one ever knew about this…until one day Candy found the clothes when they needed new clothes after spending the night in Jason's room… After, uh, [censored].

Yeah, obviously Candy decided to wear a pair of Jason's tie-dye hoodies and sweatpants. Then, in typical and predictable behavior, loudly announcing to everyone the clothes belonged to Jason and the reason that they were wearing them.

Jason wasn't amused.

Oh, also, ya know the pink heart undies we all know Jason wears? He also wears matching pink socks. Of course, he tried to keep that a secret but Candy also exposed that.

Also, Minecraft Jason:

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dostthouhavenochill · 4 years ago

Text

Performance

Rating: Gen

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Word Count: 2.6k

Characters: Alucard, Greta of Danesti, Sypha Belnades, minor OCs (mentioned)

Relationships: pre-Gretacard, Trephacard (mentioned)

Warnings: none

Summary: Alucard muses on how life has changed since the head woman of Danesti, now Belmont, and her people have settled about his home.

The clearing was relatively quiet that afternoon, with the odd settler or two roaming around, enjoying a moment’s rest after doing their part in the rebuilding effort for the day. The setting sun warmed Alucard’s skin as he sat against a large oak tree. Strong winds shook the branches above his head, sending bursts of orange and red drifting about him. He brushed errant leaves out of his basket and plucked out a dark spool to finish his mending.

Aaliya and Rahim, bless their hearts, were the most rambunctious out of all of Alucard's children. So it came as no surprise when a few hours ago, Rahim came to him with pieces of what used to be a stuffed horse, “His name is Sumac, Father!”, wailing his dark eyes out. Alucard promised to make time to mend him by the end of the day. The toy was a well-loved thing, with stains and misaligned stuffing, all evidence of a boy who took his friend everywhere he went. The horse’s reddish-brown fur was now a muddled sepia and its once cream mane and markings now gray. Alucard just about had his fill of bloody horses, but he could make an exception just this once.

He wasn’t resting alone though. After depositing lumber and stone for Solomon and his building team, Greta settled beside him. She only dozed off a short while ago, but not before giving a knowing chuckle at his project and a snark about how he was finally as used to people as people were used to him. Absolutely maniacal. He couldn’t find room to complain.

So much had changed in just these last four months. Alucard would be lying to himself if he said that it wasn’t jarring to go from months of solitude to human interaction and back again, a hellish cycle that always seemed to end with him alone. But with the settlement of the people of Danesti, now Belmont, that cycle had been broken. Funny, considering how he had been hesitant towards the idea.

Except hesitant wasn’t an accurate description. Initially, Alucard had to wrestle with his desires for both solitude and companionship. As much as he longed for the latter, Alucard wasn’t prepared for its magnitude. Saint Germain, for all his scheming, offered a reasonable solution to a suffering people. Only that reasonable solution left Alucard feeling bare and scrubbed raw, as if the entirety of the world made itself at home in his ribcage before even giving him the courtesy of undoing the frog of his cape first.

Those first nights after the battle was when the enormity of his hospitality truly began to set in. He lamented the loss of his solitude. Protection, knowledge, and safety-he would never hesitate to offer, but with so many rooms holding so many personal memories, he’d unintentionally left his soul bare to all. He remembers all but dashing ahead of Greta while showing her the food supply to hide his makeshift companions from her teasing, scrutinous gaze.

But...it was nice.

It had been so long since the halls were alive, filled with laughter and with people milling about the halls. It hardly ever seemed like he was alone now. His role as champion along with Greta’s say-so granted him a founding role in Belmont and as such was bombarded with questions daily; someone asking for aid, someone asking for instruction, someone...just asking how he’s faring that day.

From beside him, Greta, with her arms crossed, snored softly. Alucard let out an undignified chuckle. For someone who had such hasty and scathing observations about settling at Castlevania, she seems quite content.

Greta wasn’t wrong when she called the Castle cold. Alucard remembers plenty of nights alone, abandoned, shivering and craving nothing but someone, anyone, to ease his loneliness. His mother. His father. Belmont. Sypha. Anyone. But after Sumi and Taka’s betrayal, Alucard began to appreciate the aura Castlevania emanated. It’s dark, cavernous windows and ominous silhouette, looming and judging those who came across it, a warning sign to all. It stood imposingly with cautionary tales skewered at its lip. Greta was simply experiencing the emotions Castlevania intended to elicit from oncomers; the cold, fear, and danger.

Even so, after everything that’s happened, Alucard couldn’t help but feel a sense of welcome and warmth in those dark, cavernous windows.

The windows that led to the study where Adrian spent years on years learning a multitude of languages, preferring the ones with lots of “s’s” because of the way it slithered off his tongue.

The windows that led to the southwestern dining room, where an infantile Adrian nearly chomped off his mother’s finger whilst she tried to stop him from swallowing a frozen carrot he’d been teething on.

The windows that led to the science hall, where he, Sypha, and Trevor spent the last few blissful days of their union getting drunk and blasting off various spells into the ceiling to see what would happen.

Yes, there had been plenty of warmth in the Castle, even before it had been graced with the people of Danesti. Almost every room he can recall with a smile and a fond tale. He’d had to convince Greta, he thinks. He can already imagine it; the disbelief on her face when he tells her he learned to shapeshift into a dire pup in a conservatory, a room filled with foliage and beakers and sunlight and all sorts of breakable things. And he can imagine telling her that Lord Dracula himself had to call for aid from his wife when their son burst through a window and pranced about nude in the outdoor sun. He can imagine that curious wrinkle in her brows before she thinks of something, immediately says it, and rarely regrets it.

He can imagine telling her so much about his childhood. About Vlad and Lisa Țepeș. About growing up the only dhampir, to his knowledge. He can imagine telling her so much about his past and about, ahem, possibly their present; what’s changed since he met her and what’s stayed the same. The tangled but firm bundle of feelings she’s elicited from him. He’ll have to ask for her time one day, one day when she isn’t exhausted from doing the work of half a dozen persons in a few hours time and taking a well-earned break.

Alucard was broken from his musings when he saw Sypha striding up to him in the distance. In the midst of Sypha’s pregnancy, her passion and spitfire were amplified. As such, she had enough of all the side looks and loaded barbs between them all.

They had talked, Trevor and Sypha and Alucard. They talked about feelings, about abandonment and betrayal and neglect, about Trevor and Sypha’s child also calling Alucard father. About how it was almost too soon to make such a leap, feelings too raw. About sentiments that could have, perhaps should have, been properly expressed before fucking off across Europe. About regrets and pain, about trust and building it back up. It wasn’t ruined, but it was worse for wear. Nothing that some regular maintenance wouldn’t help.

Alucard almost stands to offer Sypha a hand, but she politely declines, saying that if she gets down, she won’t get back up as easily. Besides, she was only here for a quick thing. Then, she took note of the sleeping Greta, and lowered her voice, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so still before.” Alucard was inclined to agree. With her coat draped over her lap, and her head lopped to the side, Greta looked at peace. The tasks of a head woman were never-ending, it seems.

“What brings you out here, then?” Alucard asked, once he was able to drag his gaze away from Greta’s sleeping form.

“Rahim was looking for you,” she cocked her head, giving him a puzzled look. “He said that you would help him find some sumac?.” Chuckling into his chest, Alucard ties off the thread on the poor thing's left haunch and passes it up to Sypha.

“I believe I stitched together all the bits of his Sumac as best I could.” Alucard wonders if Sypha even heard him over all her soft albeit consistent cooing.

“Alucaaaard. I never knew you were so good with a needle,” she spoke as she ran her fingers lovingly through its sullied mane. “With the state of Trevor’s socks, he could learn a thing or two from you.”

And then the most terrifying thing happened; Sypha got The Look. To the casual observer, looking at the duo of Belnades and Belmont, one would think that the former was the sensible one. And they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. However, what the casual observer typically fails to notice is that Sypha, for all her grace and intellect, was at least half as crazy and twice as impulsive as Belmont himself. Arguably, she was at her worst when she got mischievous, and the only tell for that was a distinct Look; one where her impossibly large eyes sparkled and her lips twitched like a kitten holding onto a canary for a little too long.

“You knoooooow,” she began, sounding like a child all too eager to tell an adult about some fact they recently learned, a fact that they had no business knowing. “It's never too early to start preparing things for the baby-books, clothes, toys and things. Perhaps little Trefor would appreciate something personal from his Alucard. Mayhaps if you had any miniature dolls of his parents lying about,” her bright eyes squinting in mischief, “Or something like that.”

Alucard would’ve liked the earth to swallow him whole or for a wayward night creature to snatch him away into the woods. He would’ve liked a multitude of things, but he was stopped by a soft snort coming from behind him. He turned to see Greta trying and failing to suppress a smirk.

With her eyes still closed, she gave up her storybook act and said, “I’m sure sunshine here could pull something off. Yours and Trevor’s resemblance is quite striking.” Sypha howls with laughter, calming herself only after Alucard throws her a glare, all the while blush painting his...well, everything. He sighs, turning back to Greta.

“I hadn’t known you were such a fan of my needlework.”

“Well, I hadn’t intended on saying anything.” Greta barely got her last word out before Alucard rounded back, still mortified.

“Quite unlike you. I ought to be worried.” Greta cracks open an eye at that, playfully raising an eyebrow at the dhampir.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said indignantly.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression,” Greta closed her eye again, crossing her arms behind her head, “ I was merely resting my eyes.”

“And your heart rate?” Alucard bent an arm against his leg, resting his chin in his palm and gazing at her through lidded lashes. “If I had poorer hearing, I would have almost certainly mistaken you for a sleeping person.”

Greta raised a single finger. “Almost. Key word: almost.”

Rolling his eyes under closed lids, Alucard said, “You would make an excellent performer, you know.”

“I am a woman of many skills.”

“Indeed. One day, I imagine you might even be able to successfully imitate a rock.”

Greta effortlessly lands a hit against Alucard’s thigh. There’s no real force behind it. It’s the same friendly banter they’ve always shared, the same heat that fills his chest, the same stir it causes in his gut, and the same burn to the spot she touched.

“Smartass.” As she draws her hand back, the smirk on her face never drops.

Alucard, chuckling and chest warming, cocks his head back to Sypha to ask if she needs anything else from him and is surprised to see an intensity in her widened eyes. Wide as they were when they first entered the Belmont hold, large and curious and flickering as she combed through every book she could find, devouring any new information at her grasp with a thrilling quickness. Before the embarrassment at being perceived settled in his bones, Greta spoke up, this time to Sypha, making her eyes softer than usual.

“How are you and the little one today, Sypha?”

“We’re well, thank you,” Sypha takes her hand and rubs it across her slowly increasing bump, giving the head woman a pleased grin. “I see you’re taking a well-earned break.”

“Nothing wrong with a little rest,” Greta shrugs, relaxing further back against the bark. Her brows get that curious wrinkle, however, and she says, “Especially for those of us with child who’ve been running about since dawn.”

Alucard takes solace in the fact that the air around Sypha tingles ever so slightly and he is, for once, not subject to embarrassment. If Greta sensed Sypha’s chagrin, as she almost certainly did, she didn’t make it known, aside perhaps from the cute crinkle around her eyes and nose.

But Sypha recovers much faster than Alucard ever has, giving Greta a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t up and about until after the sun broke.” She then releases a long sigh. “But between Trevor, Khadijah and the other healers’ constant fretting, you’d think I was on my last legs instead of giving life.”

Mischief incarnate would do well to take note of Greta of Danesti, with a hand propped under chin, a single digit tapping her cheek, and a dangerous glint in her burnished eyes. “Foolish of them, then, to disregard the woman who battles night creatures regularly and moved an entire fucking castle as incapable of anything.”

“Foolish indeed!”

Alucard cast a sly gaze towards Greta, naughty of you to rile her up like this-Belmont is sure to get an earful later. Coy is never a word he would’ve ascribed to the head woman, but the curve of her lips and flutter of her lashes had him reconsidering.

Sypha says her goodbyes and goes to return the horse to its rightful owner. Stopping short, she looks back to Greta and says, “I don’t think you have much room to talk, however, Head Woman Greta of Danesti-now-Belmont-who-wakes-with-the-sun-and-slays-night-creatures-and-carries-lumber-and-.”

Greta ducks her head, sending the Speaker off with a wave, “Enough of that, Belnades.” She lowers her hand, her brows creasing as she says, “Thank you and be well.”

As Sypha departs, Greta settles back against the tree. With nothing to keep his hands busy, Alucard joins her in relaxing in the setting sun, hands folded in his lap. Being immortal, the dhampir never needed excessive amounts of sleep to function, per se. Perhaps he would just rest his eyes and enjoy the company.

Alucard sighs as the cool breeze passes through his hair and picks up fallen leaves, carrying them across the clearing. Then he sputters as one flies straight into his mouth. The dhampir gets no warning as Greta’s soft hands pull his hair aside, causing him to jump slightly. Her slender fingers pick out the foliage from his hair and shoulders before tossing them to the ground beneath them.

She can’t stop herself from letting out one last chuckle at Alucard’s expense. “Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do that loaf about with me, sunshine?” Her tawny eyes held still against his. Alucard arched his head back against the tree to appreciate her gaze.

“Nothing in particular springs to mind,” he doesn’t bother smothering the smirk growing on his face, “Besides, as I understand it, Khadijah has ordered you to loaf about after your mishap two nights ago.”

That earns him quite the eyeroll. “Khadijah, the worrywart, would order me to loaf about if I tripped over a stick.”

“Tripping over a mere stick?,” he lilted, “ I’d think he’d need to examine your head if that ever happened.”

Another thwack. Another burst of heat. Only this time, Alucard held fast, catching her hand before it could completely fall away. Greta startled at his reflexes, her head teasingly cocked aside as her eyes flicked from his to their joined hands. Before he lost his nerve, Alucard placed his other hand atop hers, giving it a soft squeeze and resting it in his lap. “I’m sure. I’d much rather be here than anywhere else.”

#come get y'all juice #fanfic #who did this #castlevania #gretacard #greta danesti #alucard #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #trephacard #castlevania fanfic

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flyboytracy · 4 years ago

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It’s easter! It’s the final day of Earth and Sky week! It’s Scott Tracy’s birthday! and this lil fic is about none of the above because Scott wouldn’t shut up 👌

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

It’s three in the morning when Thunderbird One begins her final approach to Tracy Island. She always lands a lot more quietly than when she launches but her pilot takes extra care to settle her back onto her launchpad beneath the pool with as little noise as possible when the world outside is dark and most of the bedroom lights are out.

Of course he knows which bedroom light belongs to whom. One room in particular is almost always dark because its occupant lives in space and Scott has to tilt his head back to say goodnight to a tiny little pinprick of light as it blinks in the skies above instead...

Another room is glowing brightly but Scott’s not too concerned because the middle of the night for them is the afternoon for a certain agent of International Rescue and he’s got no desire to walk into another conversation between the lovebirds. He’d stuck his head ‘round the door the last time he’d landed to find Gordon awake at two am and really, really wished he hadn’t. Tonight he’ll brush his fingers over that door on his way past and wonder again what happened to the little kid he used to take to the pool every weekend when dad wasn’t home. When did that tiny brown-eyed boy turn into a man ready to be a family with the woman he loves?

It was probably around the time that their dad went missing, only Scott was too occupied with trying to fill in that bottomless hole that dad left behind to notice all the tiny little cracks and crevasses that opened up too.

Thankfully Virg had always been Scott’s man on the ground since the moment Scott’s feet first left it, and he’d been there to stabilise and fill in those little fractures when Scott was too deep in his own hole to notice that others had opened up. Then he’d toss down a rope and haul Scott out before the sides could cave in and bury him forever like their m…

It’s been a long, long day. Scott’s glad to see that dad’s bedroom light is out, as is grandma’s. It hasn’t been easy for dad to readjust to life on a full sized planet but he’s making excellent progress because he wishes to be the one to walk a Lady down an aisle – if they have an aisle and either of them actually ask the other because the whole marriage and babies thing isn’t something everyone wants these days. Either way, Scott had accidentally overheard a snatch of conversation by the pool last month that’d made his eyes weirdly hot and he’d had to retreat to Thunderbird Two’s hangar to get a grip on himself.

Virg had been there but he hadn’t said a word because he hadn’t needed to. He’d drawn his big brother into a one-armed hug before pushing him in the direction of the giant vats of grease and they’d had a very calming afternoon oiling anything that squeaked on Thunderbird Two.

Scott’s surprised to see his brother’s still awake because Thunderbird Two had her own mission today which Scott wasn’t involved in but kept an eye on nonetheless. Virg was in the exo-suit for hours thus Scott’s surprised to see his room’s still aglow despite the late hour. He’ll check on his best friend after making one other stop first. Alan’s lights are on and if he’s old enough to pilot a rocket then he’s too old for a bedtime, but Scott worries anyway. Troubles weigh more in the dark and his youngest brother carries more than most teenagers his age. Dad coming back into their lives has rocked Alan’s world more than most because the rest of them are old enough to remember Kansas and the man their dad used to be before International Rescue took him from them twice.

Scott can remember when dad was just dad; that giant fella who gave him a ride to Rescue Scouts every weekend and took him to GDF airbases even when it wasn’t a bring your kids to work day. He knew the person dad was before they lost mom, whereas Alan’s far too young to remember their dad as anyone other than the Commander of International Rescue and it shows. Alan never got to lay on the roof of the jet with him as stars wheeled overhead and they talked about anything his boy had on his chest.

Instead Alan spent his formative years hearing about the legend of Jeff Tracy and Scott knows he’s kinda to blame for some of that. He built their dad up to be this unstoppable, undefeatable force inside his own mind and Alan picked up on it, as kids do. Scott didn’t even realise how tall he’d built that statue of their dad until the day after they brought him home and the reality of the situation kicked in. Scott wasn’t even sure what he’d expected; part of him had expected to be too late because who the hell could survive eight years in deep space on a ship vastly understocked for such a voyage?

Of course Jeff Tracy had survived, but the reality of that was a father who’d left his children behind and returned to find they’d grown up with Scott instead of him. It made things awkward sometimes, like when Al’ went to his oldest brother instead of their dad for advice. Whatever advice Scott gave him wouldn’t be the same advice dad gave him because Scott’s advice was based on the young man he’d raised but dad’s advice was for the little blue-eyed boy he’d left asleep in his bed on the fateful day he disappeared. Then there was the issue that his advice was based on his experiences with his four oldest boys, but out of the five of them, Alan had the most freedom to follow his own dreams and didn’t need to be told what to do with his future. He just needed to know that he’d got the support of his family behind him no matter what.

Scott might not be a fan of all of his little brother’s decisions. His friendship with a certain Mr Berrenger gives him hives, not to mention the way Alan’s newest desire to race cars across unfriendly terrain littered with hazards makes his eye twitch. However he’ll defend Alan’s right to make those decisions, and then go bother Virgil until the big guy installs VTOLs or something in Alan’s car that’ll keep him out of danger.

In the mean time, Scott treads heavily down the corridor, smiling to himself when Gordon’s light briefly flickers out. Alan’s light remains on, which surprises big brother until he looks round the door to find a couple of bodies on the floor. Virgil’s sprawled on a throne of blankets with a little brother asleep on top of him just like the old days when Al’ refused to go to sleep in case one of them went away again and never came back. For a moment he thought they’d both fallen asleep in front of the TV, but then Virgil yawned like a bear and a little figure dressed in green armour went sideways off a cliff and died in Alan’s game. Big brother couldn’t help chuckling at the bewildered “Ah,” and the slightly later “….oh.” when the game over screen appeared.

“Hey, short stuff.” Scott kept his voice down low to avoid disturbing their youngest brother as he crouched, sliding an arm beneath Alan’s bony knees and the other went around his ribs before scooping him up effortlessly. Virgil could’ve done the same anytime he wanted but he’d chosen to remain on the floor. It reminded Scott of someone perching on the very edge of their bed to avoid disturbing a kitten fast asleep in the middle of it. “I think it’s bedtime for both of you. Need a hand?”

“No. Maybe.” Virg conceded when he tried to get off the floor only to find his tired muscles wouldn’t bend far enough, “Just leave me here, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Scott just smiled and dealt with his youngest brother first, pulling off his socks and t-shirt so he wouldn’t overheat before tucking him into his actual bed. He pressed a quick kiss to that golden hair just because Alan was asleep enough for him to get away with it, and then turned his attention to the rather bigger little brother on the floor.

“C’mon, HeavyLifter2, I gotcha. Up you get.” Scott reached down for those big hands and hauled him up, not quite as easily as he could move Alan out of the way, but he’d had a lot of practise at shifting brothers over the years. Giving Gordon piggy-backs home from school when it’d been a long day and they weren’t gonna make it back before dad got in. Lifting Al’ up onto his shoulders so he could get a good view of the air displays they used to go to before International Rescue made regular things feel mundane. He’d even carried Virg home one time after he’d taken a tumble climbing down from their tree house and it’d damn near killed him to carry his not-so-little brother all the way back to the farmhouse, but there was no way he’d have ever left Virg behind, even if it was just to get help.

He’ll never leave a brother behind. Dad left them behind and it wasn’t exactly intentional but they’ll be dealing with the repercussions of that for the rest of their lives. He might be home now but it’s not easy to let go of the past eight years. It’s not easy to step back from his brothers to let their dad back in. It’s not easy to just stop worrying when it’s all Scott’s ever known.

“Hey.” Virg rumbles sleepily, all slow and soft like thunder in the distance as they trudge to his bedroom, “Stand down, Scotty. Everything’s okay.”

And Scott believes him.

#Thunderbirds Are Go #Earth&Sky2021 #day six #maybe #it was supposed to be for day 6 #but things happened lmao #anyway #have a broody scotty he's my favourite

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birdsandspades · 4 years ago

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I Get A Kick Out Of You (A Bakugou Oneshot)

-Pro hero Bakugou and you are on a mission to the past. How will they navigate a day in 1959, will they even find the guy they are after. Maybe a movie, milkshake, and some dancing will help them get to the bottom of it.

Word Count - 6,069

-As you can imagine I Get A Kick Out Of You by Frank Sinatra inspired this, and also the need to go dancing with Bakugou. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you like it!

—-

“Alright, so you two know who you’re looking for?” The chief of police handed you a manila folder, looking between you and your partner as you stepped onto the platform.

You nodded, “I’m sure someone like Cryptid will stick out in a crowd.” You looped your arm through the one next to you, pulling them closer. Your other hand pulling down your visor on your helmet.

“Let’s just get this shit over, I fucking hate traveling…” Bakugou groaned, trying to pull away from your hold as he clipped the latch closed on his own.

The chief took a step back, giving you a brief nod. “I expect you back here tomorrow, don’t be messing around. We don’t want anyone noticing you two are from the future.”

“Don’t worry, i’ll keep Bakugou in check!” You tugged him back, gloved fingers digging into his jumpsuit.

“You’ll do what?” He was jolted forward, space and time quite literally bending around him as he clung onto your arm for dear life. Everything around him moved at a dizzying pace. Life itself rewinding as he stood in the middle of it all. Buildings deconstructing, days winding back, people retracing their own steps as they moved back to their very beginnings.

All at once it stopped. Bakugou clutching your arm, fistfuls of your suit in his hands as he tried to steady the shaking in his knees. It all rushed up, breakfast. He pushed you away, throwing off his helmet as he keeled over. This always happened.

You soothed your hand over his back, cooing as you shifted the backpack off your shoulder. “Bakugou you ok?”

“No, I’m not ok. Your quirk fucking sucks!” He stood up, wiping his mouth.

You offered him a water bottle, his feverish hands snatching it before you could even utter a word.

“Well, looks like we made it ok..ish. I think we can change out of our travel suits back here before heading to the street.” You pulled out a shirt from your bag, looking around the alleyway. You were behind some kind of group of restaurant, the street just ahead. People rushed past as they went about the day. You had arrived, 1959 Boston, Massachusetts.

Bakugou had collected himself enough, leaning back against a parked pontiac. “So where is this asshole?”

“The file says somewhere in this suburban area.” You turned back to him, handing him the file. “They marked some places on the map, we spotted him in a few newspaper clippings all dated for today. So we just need to hit up every location until we see him.”

He nodded along, flipping through the pages. “So what are we staging as this time?”

Everytime you went to a new time you always had an act set up. Something to help you blend in as you went about the mission. Sometimes it was siblings, sometimes total strangers. It all depended on the mission.

“A teenage couple out on the town!” You beamed, pulling out Bakugou’s disguise.

“What the fuck is this shit!” He took the bright striped button up, nose wrinkling in disgust. “And the pants, what asshole would wear these?” He ripped the bright blue pleated slacks from your other hand.

“You will.” You layed out your own outfit on the back of the Bonneville, a knee length full cherry red skirt, and a white cotton button up. The typical fashion of a 50’s teen, you had done your research.

“This is the last time I let you pick out this shit. I should have told you to fuck off after those bellbottom pants last time!.” He complained, unlacing his boots.

“Hey! Those were amazing pants you asshole!.” You kicked off your own shoes, pulling off your socks.

“They were fucking pink y/n, baby fucking pink.” He unzipped his suit, letting it slide down his back.

“You just have no taste in fashion Bakugou.” You unzipped your own, shimmying it down your shoulders.

“Hey!” He turned around, face red as he caught sight of your exposed back.

“Turn around!” You screamed, covering yourself.

He did as asked, chuckling. “I have plenty of fashion taste.” He stepped out of the suit pants, throwing it towards the open bag.

“Yeah, whatever you say fanny pack.” You were tucking in your shirt into your skirt, feet slipping into your white kitten heels.

“Why do you always bring up that fucking fanny pack, it was one time!” He buttoned the last button on his shirt, tugging at the crotch of his pants. They were too high, sitting just under his belly button. The shirt was comfortable enough, way too bright for what he usually wore. The red, yellow, white and blue stripes ran vertically along the short sleeve, all fighting for space on the small print. “Why are these pants so fucking high up?” He pulled at the material again, turning around to complain to you. He stopped, eyes wandering over you as you smoothed over your hair. A smile tried it’s best to pull at his permanent frown, and it almost won. But you just had to talk.

“What?” You glared, brushing off your skirt.

“You look stupid.” He spat, walking over to shove his helmet into the backpack.

“Asshole, I’m putting in for a new partner when we get back.” You grabbed the bag from him, zipping it closed. You threw it in a box by a dumpster, safe until you returned.

“Yeah you always say that. But guess who’s still here.” He ruffled your hair, pushing your head away as he walked ahead of you.

You ran to catch up, eyes going wide as you stepped onto the open street. You had been almost everywhere at this point, seen almost everything. But this, this was something else. You looked down the street, cars parked along the buildings in every pastel color you could think off. Teens walked past, laughing as they enjoyed their Saturday out of school. You could hear the newest Ray Charles record playing from the store across the street, What’d I Say, an absolute classic. A group of boys ran out of the front door with penny candy in hand, pushing through a group of women waiting outside a newspaper stand next door. It was simple, quirkless.

“Hey idiot, where are we going?” Bakugou nudged you, giving you a judgement look.

“Oh, um. The first place marked is called Pam’s. It says it’s a restaurant. He was photographed outside in a picture submitted for a photo contest in the newspaper…” You turned the map over in your hand, trying to make out the lines from the line? This was all starting to look the same.

Bakugou pulled the map from your hands, folding it as he pointed down the road. “That fucking Pam’s?” He gave you an angry smile, shoving the map into his back pocket.

You returned the look, grabbing his arm. “Well let’s go smartass.” You walked together down the road towards the dinner, couples passing by. They held hands, leaning against one another as they talked. Smiles bright, love in their eyes.

You looked between Bakugou’s clenched fist and your own empty hand before scowling.

“What is that ugly face for?” He looked ahead, not sparing you a glance.

“Were supposed to be a couple, hold my hand like that.” You pointed to the couple exiting the dinner doors.

“No, we’re already here. Now fuck off.” He held the door open for you, watching as you walked under his arm.

“Two?” The lady smiled from over the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Yeah please.” You nodded.

“Follow me hun.” She lifted up the flip top, walking you both down the rows of red and white booths. She stopped at one by the back of the diner setting down two menus. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

You slid into the plush seat, Bakugou sitting across you. He took a menu, pushing the other to you as he looked over the burgers.

“What are you getting?” He looked over the top of the laminated sheet, already decided.

“I think just a shake, and maybe some of your fries…?” You set down your own, smiling innocently.

“Get your own fucking…” He was cut short, your server walking back up to the table.

“Decided yet?” She pulled out a pen and pad, looking between the two of you.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.” Bakugou handed her the menu, eyes squinting as he looked over at you.

He was daring you to say it.

“And i’ll have a strawberry shake.” You smiled at the women, handing her your own menu.

“No food?” She clicked the pen, folding the menus under her arm.

Bakugou glared your way, shaking his head.

He just wanted you to say it.

“No thank you.” You turned to face him, smirking. “I’ll just share with him.”

He sank in his seat as the waitress walked away. “You always do this shit. You’re going to eat all my fries again.”

He was right, you probably were.

You leaned over the table, rolling your eyes at the temper tantrum about to ensure. “Stop crying, we aren’t here to eat. We have to find Cryptid, so keep an eye out.

“What did he even steal again, some stupid blueprints?” Bakugou turned his head, looking over the occupied tables.

“Yeah if by some stupid blueprints you mean the one for the bomb they were planning on sticking under UA.” You greeted the couple passing by before turning back to your partner.

“That quirk eradicating thing?” He sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, the one Chisaki was making. Something like that would deviate the school.” You sat up, the waitress approaching with your order.

“Here you go honey, one cheeseburger. And a strawberry shake, two straws.” She winked your way before leaving to attend to another table.

“Two fucking straws, why would you need two straws?” Bakugou frowned at the shake, picking up his burger.

You looked behind him, cheeks heating up. The couple leaned over the table, forehead pressed together as they sipped from their shake. The same shake, two straws. You cleared your throat, pulling the glass closer. “I don’t know…”

Bakugou gave you a weird look, turning around in the booth. “That, that’s what’s got you so worked up?” He pointed a thumb towards the booth, chuckling as you sipped your shake.

“No, it’s not like we have to share the fucking thing. Eat your food and shut up…” You tried to hide the flush creeping up your skin.

“What if I want some?” He smirked, you didn’t hide it well enough.

“Then you can drink it without me attached to it…”

“Hey baby, your date here giving you trouble?” A tall man pressed his hands on the table top, eyes glued on you. His friends leaned against the bar top a few tables behind snickering.

“Oh no thank yo…” You looked across the table, Bakugou’s fingers digging into the wooden sides.

“Because if he is, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.” He leaned down, blocking your view of Bakugou’s contorting face.

“I’m fine, no thank yo…” You could see small glimpses of Bakugou’s face over the man’s shoulder darting back and forth as he tried to see around him.

“It’s a shame, I would sit with you. Maybe share that…”

Bakugou stood up, pushing past the man as he shoved himself into you. He slid the both of you further into the booth, grabbing the shake from your hands. “Fuck off, it’s my straw.” He took a drink from your shake, glaring as the man walked off.

“Hey! Don’t drink all of it!” You ripped the shake from his hands, setting it down on the far side of the table.

“I don’t see the guy, let’s just go to the next location before some other fuckwad comes over.” He frowned, throwing some money on the table.

“I want to finish this.” You frowned, picking up the shake to take a drink.

Bakugou watched you taking small sips from the straw, groaning loudly. “Jesus let me help you with that grandma.” He took the other straw, lips connecting with the plastic as his forehead brushed yours.

You could have sworn you saw a hint of pink brush his cheeks, but all thoughts of that were erased when his crimson eyes met yours.

“Stop looking at me with that ugly face…” Bakugou pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we just get going already?” He grabbed your hand, tugging you out of the booth.

You watched as he pulled you along, staring at his hand tightly wrapped around yours. Bakugou had never been one to get jealous easily. But maybe he was just playing the part well today.

“Where are we going next?”

“The next picture is of the movie theater. It’s opening night for The Mummy, they got him in the shot of the crowd lined up.” You rushed behind him, feet dragging behind you as he pulled you out of the restaurant.

“Well let’s go, I want to get this over with. These pants are riding up in places pants shouldn’t be.”

You groaned loudly, you didn’t need to know that.

You walked behind Bakugou to the theater, his hand still wrapped around your own. His pace had slowed down once you left the diner, but the tension in his shoulder reamined, tightly wound as he stomped his way across the street.

Passerbys watched in horror as he trudged up to the ticket booth. Were you in need of help, who was this gorilla of a man dragging you behind him. You apologized as he pushed through the line, angry looks following you as he aggressively shoved a bill into the ticket slot.

“Two tickets for that.” He pointed to the poster, glaring at the teller.

The man pushed the change and the tickets through the slot without another word, relaxing once Bakugou mumbled and groaned his way into the building.

“Hey hot head, you’re drawing too much attention. If you’re not careful you may set off your quirk.” You harshly whispered into his ear as he walked up to the concession stand, his hand dampening in your own.

You knew him well enough to know that the angry he got, the more prone he was to slip ups.

You pushed past him to the front of the counter. “What do you want hangry? I’ll buy it.”

Bakugou huffed, pointing to the bag of atomic fireballs.

“Can I get a bag of those, a popcorn, and a coke please.” You hand the lady at the register a few dollars as another worker prepared your snacks. “Thank you.” You took the popcorn from the counter and the soda, leaving the candy for Bakugou to grab as you walked down the hallway to the theater.

“You shouldn’t be so nice when people are bothering you F/N.” Bakugou mumbled behind you, more aggravated than mad now.

“We have a mission, I can’t just tell people to fuck off Katsuki. Trust me I would have loved to…” You added, pushing open the door.

He stared at you, shaking his head. A small smile tugging at his lips as he walked down the aisle behind you. You were something else.

You sat down a few rows back, Bakugou sitting beside you as he took the popcorn from your lap. “So we just hang out here and wait for him to show up?”

“Yeah, he came to this show. He should be here somewhere.” You took a sip of your soda, watching as the seats filled up around you.

“I don’t see him F/N.” Bakugou leaned in to whisper in your ear, the lights turning off as the movie started.

“He’s here. Just give it some time.” You leaned up against his shoulder, settling against him as you watched the movie.

Bakugou wanted to protest, you were on a mission. But letting you lay against him like this wouldn’t hurt, just for a little bit.

Soon a good portion of the movie had gone by, your popcorn bucket empty as you reached your hand inside.

“Katsuki, i’m going to get more.” You shook the empty popcorn bucket, standing up.

He nodded, eyes glued on the screen. He was enthralled.

You slid past him into the aisle way, making your way out into the theater hallways. You walked back up to the concession stand, waiting your turn as the line moved forward.

You looked over the room, doing a double take at the front door. The man turned around, the same familiar weasley features you had been looking at all day.

He made eye contact with you, eyes going wide as you stepped out of the line. He looked around before booking it out of the theater, pushing over a few men as he ran out onto the street.

You chased after him out the door, watching him run down the street towards the roller rink. “Shit.” You cursed, walking back into the theater. You rushed down the hallways, pushing the theater door open as you walked over to Bakugou.

“Katsuki, I saw Cryptid. We have to go.” You leaned over his shoulder, turning his attention away from the screen.

“You saw him?” He stood up, people yelling from behind him to sit down. He put two hands over your ears, glaring at the people behind him.

You watched him shout, unable to hear a thing through his hands. People threw popcorn, angrily yelling back from the looks on their faces. Bakugou pulled you out of the theater, people booing him as he pushed you out of the doors.

“What did you say?” You looked at him, eyes going wide. You had heard him say some vulgar things, but never anything that had warranted that kind of reaction.

“I ruined the ending.” He looked around the theater, eyes landing on you again. “Where did he go?”

“Oh! The roller rink, I chased him out of the theater and he ran down the road.” It was now your turn to pull him behind you, tugging the blonde along as you ran out of the theater and towards the roller rink.

“You chased after him. F/N you should have just come and got me.” Bakugou contested, his fingers slipping from your grip. He always had a problem with getting sweaty when he got worked up, and the thought of you running off alone after a villain was making his heart race. He laced his fingers with your, a better alternative that would keep him attached to you.

“I did come get you, but he saw me and took off. I didn’t want to lose him…” You slowed to a stop outside the roller rink doors. It was already getting dark outside, the sun starting to set behind the skyline. You would have to catch him here, if you took any longer you were going to run out of options.

You walked up to the shoe counter at the front of the building, stepping up on the platform as you waited for someone to come out.

“Hey folks, welcome in! No rollerskates tonight, we close down for dancing on Saturdays, but you’re welcome to head on in!” A younger gentleman popped his head out of the office door, pointing towards the roller floor.

“Let’s just take a look around, he may be hiding in the group.” You thanked the man, walking behind Bakugou to the crowd of teenagers below.

“I am not dancing.” He turned to you, shaking his head slowly. It was his one rule on missions, no dancing. He hated it, hated the attention. It was a useless skill and he didn’t want to waste time doing it, especially on a mission.

“Katsuki I know you hate it, but we are going to stick out just standing here. Let’s just do one song, work our way through the crowd. If we don’t see him we can leave.” You pleaded with him. The mass of people was thick, too thick to see everyone inside it. You would have to sift through them to even get to the other side of the building.

“No, i’m not saying it again. You can go find someone else to dance with you in that shit.” He folded his hands over his chest. He didn’t mean that, he would probably knock anyone who touched you’s teeth out, let alone let them hold onto you for a whole three minutes.

“Katsuki, if we don’t catch this guy we will fail this mission. Do you want to fail the mission?”

He groaned, throwing his hands up. He hated dancing, he hated seeing people touch you, he hated that look you were giving him. But he absolutely despised failing a mission, the paperwork was atrocious.

He took your hand, practically throwing you onto the dance floor as he trudged behind you. Can it just be a slow dance, something simple and easy.

The music changed, the beginning notes of In the Mood started. The mass of people opened, each couple their own space as everyone settled into the beat of the trumpets. It was swing, a form of dance he sadly knew well.

Bakugou had been cursed at birth with parents who loved more refined things in life. He from a young age was introduced to piano, male fashion, and dancing. Stupid fucking dancing. His parents made him take classes until he started at UA, they said it would help him in becoming a great hero one day. He had taken a liking to swing early on, it was something he could see himself using in his training one day.

He did in fact see a difference in his hand to hand combat skills after he got the technique down, but fuck him. He was actually going to have to use it for its original purpose.

“Do you even know how to swing?” He groaned, taking your hand.

“A little, we practiced it for fun during ballet.” You leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He had forgotten about your musical upbring, you had suffered through almost as much as he did.

“Just don’t fall on your ass…” Bakugou started to move his feet, he would take it easy for your sake.

You mirrored him, holding onto his hand tight as he swung you around.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. You couldn’t help but giggle, beaming as you danced around the hall.

He wanted to complain, but you looked so happy. It was rubbing off on him, that bubbly feeling of just being in the moment with you.

“Want to try something?” He yelled over the music, lifting his arm to twirl you.

“Yes!” You shouted, smiling as you came around.

He let go of one hand, swinging you out. He reeled you back in, his free hand coming under you back as he swung you to one side, then the other as you did a full roll over his shoulder. Your feet touched back down on the ground as he spun you out again.

You laughed, absolutely shocked. “The girls in my class were never strong enough to do that.” You took his other hand again as he chuckled.

“You’re a lot easier to dance with compared to the old hag that taught me.”

You very seldom saw this side of Bakugou, the soft side of him. The happy side. He had been assigned to you as a partner years ago because of a broadcasting incident. The poor man was always so wound up, a ball of nerves. It was only a matter of time before he punched a cameraman for getting in his face. You were a low contact hero, someone who worked behind the scenes. Hell you honestly never got recognized for what you even did. It seemed like a match made in heaven, a quiet hero looking for a partner, and a hotheaded pro looking to get out of the spotlight.

It started as a punishment, something to cool his head for a month or two. He went on a few missions with you, nothing too far back. But the anger and tension practically melted off the guy every time you went out. He liked it, the lack of pressure. No one knew who he was, no one expected anything of him. He could just be a hero, just save the day. No reports, no news casts, no civilians screaming at him.

You were his only concern, to keep you safe. You never expected him to do anything more. Before long he had asked to be assigned to you. It was a demotion honestly, he was one of the top 10 heroes after all. But most day’s it felt like he was everyone’s favorite punching bag. Not even a hero in society’s eyes, just the person they loved to hate. But you, you never did that. Sure you would argue with him, and he had to admit it was fun to have someone who was just as snappy as he was around. But you never blamed him, never accused him, never labeled him.

He was just Katsuki Bakugou to you, and maybe Ground Zero when he was being an asshole.

The song ended, everyone easing to a stop around the dance floor. A good section of the group made their way off the dance floor, breaking for water.

Bakugou looked around the room as he took a deep breath. “Now’s the best chance to find the guy.”

You nodded, the next song starting. You turned to walk off the dance floor, a warm hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Hey, where are you going? You won’t be able to see him from up there.” He pulled you back, resting a hand on your hip.

“I thought we agreed on one song?” You tilted your hand, letting your hand fall on his shoulder.

“You said it yourself, we’re going to have to work our way through the crowd.” He took a step back, swaying with the music.

You opened your mouth to protest, just smiling instead. You laid your head on his shoulder, scanning the crowd behind him. Why not kill two birds with one stone.

Bakugou did the same, leaning his head against your own. He looked for the uncommon top of silver white hair. Cryptid blended in with the people back home, but here his look was uncommon. He had gotten his name from how easily he disappeared into a crowd, almost as if he had never been there at all. But he had made the mistake of traveling too far back in time. The gene pools were smaller, more predictable. No one had bright hair, unnatural eyes, quirks.

“Hey man, what do you think you’re doing!”

You lifted your head up, turning towards the sound of commotion coming from the front shoe desk.

A man was chasing someone out the front doors, “That guy stole my wallet!”

You looked at Bakugou before running off the dance floor and out the roll rink doors. Cryptid stood across the street, his eyes locked onto yours as he took off down the alley behind him.

You tried to run after him, Bakugou grabbing your arm as a car passed by. “Do you want to get hit?” He yelled, tugging you back.

You watched the villain disappear between the rushing cars. You sighed in defeat, this guy was pretty good at this vanishing stuff.

“We can just catch him at the next location.” Bakugou frowned.

“Yeah…” You reached for his back pocket, patting only fabric. You turned him around, patting at his ass.

“Fuck F/N, stop touching my ass!” He slapped your hand away, his face growing hot.

“Katsuki, where is the map? You had it last.” You looked at him, panic growing. Without that map you had no way of knowing where he would be next in this massive city.

“I put it in my back pocket…” He patted the space, eyes widening. “When did I lose it?”

“You took it from me before me went to Pam’s…it could be anywhere…” You sat down on the side of the road, pedestrians staring as they walked past.

“Do you remember where he went next?” Bakugou sat down next to you, rubbing his temples.

“No, because someone took the map from me when I was looking at it.” You glared over at him, mood souring.

“Well fuck F/N, do you remeber anything we can use?” He complained, scowling at the empty alleyway.

“Maybe…I remember seeing something about a stolen car found on the top of the hill. It was supposed to be an extra tip just in case.”

“It’s worth a try, get up.” He offered you a hand, pulling you to your feet.

“What are you doing? We won’t be able to walk all the way there.” You followed him across the street, walking back into the alley you came from.

“We aren’t walking. Grab the bag.” Bakugou walked up to the parked pontiac, jiggling the handle.

You pulled the backpack out of the empty box you had left it in, walking over to the car.

Bakugou gave it a few more tugs, ripping the handle off of the car door. He pulled the door open, leaning under the steering wheel.

“Katsuki we can’t steal a car!” You harshly whispered, looking around for watchers.

“Why not, they are going to find one up there already, why not just leave this one too.” He connected the wires unearth, the car stuttering a few times before it started. He stood up, turning to you. “Or do you have a better idea?”

“…I guess not.” You threw your hands up, walking over to the passenger side.

Bakugou got inside the car, leaning over to unlock your own door. He pushed it open, sitting back in the driver’s seat.

You sat down, throwing the backpack in the back seat. “Do you even know how to drive one of these?”

“It’s a manual, not a spaceship.” He pressed down on the clutch and shifted to first gear, his other tapping the accelerator as the car moved forward.

This man never ceased to amaze you.

Bakugou pulled out of the alleyway and onto the street. “Where are we going?”

“Up there.” You pointed down the road, your fingers landing on the distant hill on the horizon. “It’s called a look out point I think.”

“Gross.” Bakugou’s face soured. Intimacy, disgusting.

You chuckled, leaning forward to turn on the radio. You clicked through the stations stopping a few in. “Hey, I know this song.” You looked over at the irritated blonde, rolling his eyes. It was Frank Sinatra I Get A Kick Out Of You, something you had heard in a taxi a long time ago.

Bakugou tapped his finger along on the steering wheel as he rounded the road up to the top of the mountain. It was catchy. He glanced over at you, face pressed against the window as you looked down at the city skyline. It was close to dark now, the tips of the sun barely brushing the tops of the lowest buildings. The street lights were kicking on all around the city as he drove up the dark dirt road, the soft light of parked cars peaking over the top.

He pulled into the lot at the top, parking a few open spaces down from the full rows of cars. He turned off the engine and shut off the lights, the night stars popping out one by one as your eyes adjusted to the night sky.

“Hey what does this button do?” You pressed the button on the roof back, the top clicking off as it moved back into the trunk space.

“Hey, don’t be fucking with things!” Bakugou groaned, trying to stop the top from tucking away. He looked at you, hand lowering.

The sky had opened up now, the shine of every star filled the empty space in your eyes as you stared at awe. You filled his as he sank into his seat, watching you gush over the sea of lights above the both of you.

“I’ve never seen this many. We usually never stay this late…” You laid back in your seat, counting every twinkle in the sky.

There were perks of living in such an advanced society, but there were also drawbacks. One major one being the light pollution. You had never really seen the stars, not like this. The city was too bright to see anything but the north star and the moon. But this was everything in between, the last dying breaths of the constellations above.

You reached a hand over, brushing your fingers over Bakugou’s. “Katsuki I think that one is Mars.” You pointed up, looking over at him.

“What one?” He leaned over trying to line up his site with your extended finger.

“That one.” You pointed again.

“I don’t see it.” He leaned over a bit more, shoulder brushing yours.

“That red one!” You grumbled as he leaned over you.

Bakugou rested his hand on the side of your head, leaning down to brush his lips over your own. He pressed in you, kissing you sweetly.

You tangled you fingers with his shirt as he pulled back, a smirk adorning his face.

“Hey, we’re working!” You blushed, covering your face with your hands.

“We are working.” He laughed, sitting back in his seat. He looked out the window, no sign of new cars.

“Do you think he will show up?” You sat up, looking at the row of cars.

“Maybe, we just have to wait and see.” Bakugou squinted at the movement coming from the car a few spots down before turning away.

“What’s wrong, did you see him?” You leaned over, trying to get a better look.

Bakugou threw his hand over your eyes, pushing you back into your seat.“ You don’t want to see.”

Your cheeks heated up, he was probably right.

You heard a scream come from the direction, both of your heads whipping around as you pulled his hand down.

“Hey get your hands off my girlfriend!”

You saw a man get out of the car, pulling someone else out behind him. He was in his underwear, hair messy as he threw the man on the ground.

“That’s Cryptid!” You shouted, pointing to the man trying to stand up.

The other man swung his arm, knocking the villain out in one punch. He crumpled to the ground, limp in the dirt. The other man got back into his car, starting the engine as he drove off.

Bakugou unlocked the car door getting out, you scrambled behind him as you crawled over the seat. You both walked over to the unconscious man, turning him over to see his face.

“Yeah, he’s out cold…” You touched the man’s chest, making sure he was still breathing.

“He must have seen us and tried to hide in that car.” Bakugou picked up the man by the back of his shirt, holding him like a wet cat.

“Well…that was convenient.” You walked back to the car, pulling the bag out of the back seat. “We should get him back before the chief throws a fit. It’s getting pretty late.”

You pulled out your jumpsuits, slipping it on over your clothes. You handed Bakugou his, trading him from the collar of the villain as he got dressed to leave.

“Let’s just say we did it, don’t need the chief knowing we let some highschool football player catch this idiot.” Bakugou reached out a hand, pulling you into his side.

“Looks like the mission is done.” You wrapped an arm around him, holding him close.

“Yeah.” He took the man from you, shaking his head. “Can we go home so I can stop pretending to be your teenage boyfriend, I like being your adult fiance more.” He flashed you a small smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, we still need to talk about wedding cakes tonight.” You smirked, handing him his helmet. You clicked down your visor, as he slid his on.

Bakugou groaned, “We can’t just do it in the morning?” He was jolted forward, the both of you vanishing from the hilltop parking lot.

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 5 years ago

Text

Witches Get Stitches Fanfic

Title: Witches Get Stitches

Summary: Patton’s ecstatic to take to the skies on his broom for the first time. His familiar Virgil on the other hand? Not so much.

Pairings: platonic moxiety

Word-Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Panic, Crying, Blood Mention, Injury, Implied Child Abuse, Witches, Magic Discrimination, Hurt/Comfort

I started this fic back in July and I finally finished it!! This was inspired by this wonderful piece of art by @fandergecko

The moon views the colorful city below from behind the visage of clouds. The sky guardian is at the height of her rule; the full moon. Bright and bold enough to rival the streetlights and flashing neon signs of the city. The celestial court accompanies their ruler; pinpricks of starlight that scatter across the sky.

A summer breeze lazily sweeps in. It is not in a hurry like autumn gale in the tune of students scurrying to classes. Or sharp and piercing as the stern winter draft. Nor is it graceful and airy as the spring wind. For it is summertime, a time when children frolick without homework hanging over their heads. A time for snow cones and ice-cream. A time for mischief and tomfoolery.

In the city that rests beneath the moon’s eye there is hardly a peep. One might argue it is almost as peaceful as a sleepy village. Where is the excitement? Where is the bustle and hustle? The midnight mischief?

The moon looks on in disappointment. The stars whisper amongst themselves, bored and unamused by the humans’ offerings for nighttime antics. Dark clouds creep closer to the moon, covering her almost completely.

‘Come.’ They all seem to say, ‘Let us go and find another place more worthy of our light.’

Before the clouds sweep away their queen, a loud, excited hollar halts their advance.

“WOOOHOOOO!”

“P-p-pa-pa-pa-PATTON!”

On the heels of the summer breeze, comes their midnight mischief. From the perspectives of both the heavens far above and the streets far below, it is a fast blue flash zooming through the air. Look closer, and you might realize it is only a witch with his familiar flying on his broom.

His witch robes are a gentle blue like a peaceful sunny sky. Blue knee-high socks adorn his legs, with a cute cat face where the sock cuts off at the knee. He wears the traditional witch’s hat--big and floofy in all its’ witchy glory. It is dyed a lovely indigo with splashes of yellow that are crude representations of the stars above. This of course catches the nighttime hosts’ attention. For they like many are fond of flattery.

Wavy amber hair seeps out of the witch’s hat, resting gently on his spectacles. Freckles like stars scatter across his tanned face. His blue eyes shine brightly with excitement, his mouth open agape with awe. Books and other personal belongings fly out from the witch, unnoticed in their fast descent towards the ground.

It is clear to both the moon and her faithful court that this witch is having the time of his life. His familiar, on the other hand, is a completely different story

Like for many witches depicted in fiction, his familiar takes the form of a black cat. A very terrified, very small scrawny black cat. Hackles raised, ears pinned back, pupils dilated. The familiar’s claws are embedded in the wooden grain of the broom, as he tries to stay on for dear life.

If this was a movie, this might be the moment where the freeze frame happens, stopping on a zoomed-in shot of the screeching familiar. A voice-over recording occurs, ‘Hi, that’s me, Virgil. You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation.’

Fortunately, the Moon is well aware of this pair and their history. How could she not be? It was under her watchful eye the two first met.

A sniffling young boy with two missing front teeth and band-aid covered knees. A frightened malnourished black kitten barely five weeks old. Two young children lost and alone in the cold, unforgiving dark. All the Moon and her compatriots could do was watch and provide them their dazzling light.

“It’s okay,” The boy said, smiling through the tears dribbling down his cheeks, “I know you’re scared of me but it--it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, promise.”

The black kitten was just an ordinary black kitten. It could not understand the words the boy spoke anymore than it knew the little hand reaching towards it meant no harm. Despite this, the black kitten took a step forward. The boy stayed still. The kitten took another step and then another, until it sniffed the boy’s hand. Satisfied, the kitten headbutted the hand, a tiny purr rising from its throat.

A shaky breath caught in the boy’s throat. Carefully, he petted the kitten’s matted fur. The kitten didn’t run away, didn’t try clawing or biting the hand. It kept purring, its’ eyes squinting in delight. It wasn’t scared of him anymore. Everyone was always scared of the boy, his parents included. They feared the magic running through his veins and what it could do. The boy tried his best to be friendly, to hide it away, but it was never enough for anyone. Except, apparently, a little malnourished black kitten with a mangy coat.

The black kitten let out a surprised mew as the boy hoisted him off the ground. He wrapped his pudgy arms around its frail frame and sobbed.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” The boy babbled, “I’ll--I’ll take care of you, I’ll make sure you’ll have plenty of food and we can be the best of friends--”

The black kitten once again could not comprehend these words. It did not understand why the giant, towering hairless kitten was so distressed. But it remembered how its mother purred to comfort the cries of it and its littermates. So the kitten continued purring, pressing its head into the boy’s chest. The boy was warm and most importantly just as alone and frightened as the kitten was. Clearly they should stick together for survival.

Neither knew at that moment, but the two had created a magical pact. One that bonded the two as witch and familiar. It was informal, created without the use of intricate spells and rituals, but as strong and enduring as a bond should be.

Slowly the kitten grew into not an ordinary black adult cat, but something more. A being endowed with magic and an intelligent mind of its own. As wonderful as this all is, Virgil found this at times very perplexing.

Imagine being a cat whose sole priority in life had been napping and now suddenly there are a thousand different other things to worry about. Things like possibly falling off a broom hundreds of feet up in the air. Then you might understand why Virgil wishes at times to go back to a much simpler time of existing.

This is a wish that shooting stars will never grant, for even they can see his love for his boy outweighs his frustrations of becoming more. Virgil loves his witch. He loves him enough to rake his claws across school bullies’ faces. He loves him enough to be the witch’s sole companion for years and years. He loves him enough that his sole priority in life is no longer naps but to protect and keep his witch safe.

Flying on a piece of wood? That is not safe. As much as Virgil trusts Patton, he cannot help but worry. He is no longer just a cat, no longer just Virgil, but a piece of Patton himself. He is the reflection of Patton’s magic. Something that the witch feared for so, so long. Growing up, it’d been best to hide it, to shove it away rather than embrace and understand it.

Virgil knows they’re now in a more magic-friendly town. They’re far away from judgmental parents and peers. Patton thinks it’s safer now. Virgil doesn’t. He remembers all the times Patton lost control of his magic and it hurt others, hurt himself. He remembers and fears the friendly faces of the city turning into hateful, jeering ones.

This is why he clings to the broom, heart thrashing loudly in his chest. It does not help he has a fear of heights in the slightest. Normal cats don’t worry much about heights, but again Virgil is not normal.

“This is so much fun, Virgil! I can’t believe we haven’t tried this sooner!” Patton laughs, completely oblivious to his familiar’s plight. This is his first time successfully levitating a broom, let alone knowing the thrill of riding it fast through the night sky. Yet another reason Virgil fears how high up they are. He trusts Patton, but he also knows how easy it is for a spell to go south quick.

“I--I can!” Virgil yowls, curling his tail around the broom. He snatches a quick look at the ground below, regretting it immediately. He shuts his eyes as he tries keeping a hairball down. The broom lurches to a stop and he doesn’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. They’re still levitating as high as the city skyscrapers after all.

“Aw Virgil,” Patton says, “It’s okay, we’re safe up here.”

He scratches the spot between Virgil’s furry ears and really, that is totally unfair. Virgil still retains his feline traits, and he can’t help the pleased purr that erupts from that desired spot getting scratchies. He has to fight through it and focus on what’s important; Patton.

“No it’s not, it’s not safe, not safe, Pa-pat--” Virgil says, the unnatural human words becoming garbled in his cat throat in his panic.

Patton’s wide grin vanishes completely as a small frown replaces it. He gently picks his familiar up, caressing Virgil close to his chest.

“Hey it’s okay, Virge. We’re gonna go back home now, alright? Promise I’ll let you eat all the treats you want, and we can watch Nightmare Before Christmas, okay?”

“O-okay.” Virgil agrees. It isn’t Patton agreeing never to fly again, but it does mean no more flying for tonight. They’ll be on the ground, safe once more inside Patton’s apartment.

“Cool, cool, cool,” Patton murmurs, “Now, um, de-levitate!”

Nothing happens.

“De-leviatify? No, wait, it’s crescendo!” Patton says, “Ascendo? Something latin wordy, ummm stringendo?!”

“Patton,” Virgil begins, his voice eerily calm, “Please for the love of catnip tell me that you didn’t levitate a broom without knowing how to unlevitate it.”

“Would you kill me if I told you I may have gotten so excited about flying that um I maybe kindasoratforgotaboutthatpart?” Patton says, squeaking out that last bit.

“PaTtOn.” Virgil yells, his voice doing that awful echo. It only ever happens when something bad is gonna happen. Such as Patton losing complete confidence in the spell he’s currently casting.

“AHHH DESCENDO!” Patton yells, right about the time the broom drops downwards. Patton grips onto the wooden broom with two hands, leaving Virgil to cling desperately to the witch’s robes. They’re flying fast down to the ground below, faster than they were moments ago in the sky.

“I--I can’t control it!” Patton yells, tugging at the broom, attempting to pull it upwards for a softer landing to no effect.

Virgil doesn’t say anything back, his thoughts flying faster than the speed they’re currently falling. There’s absolutely no way they can survive this. Patton is too panicked to use magic and already limited by his inexperience. They’re going to hit the cement sidewalk hard, like bugs getting squashed beneath his clawed paws. He just knows it.

What he doesn’t know is that the Moon is watching. She is always watching from her throne in the night sky. Even on nights she hides her face from the mortals below. She is the protector of the night sky. As such, she has dominion over it.

“Grant them a safe landing.” The Moon urges the Summer Breeze. They acquiesce, but like a teenager they are sullen and testy about it.

Patton’s broom evens out as the summer breeze takes hold of them. Neither Patton and Virgil realize this; they are both too busy screaming. The Summer Breeze takes pleasure in their terror. It flexes its metaphorical fingers.

“Patton, what are you doing?” Virgil cries as the broom jerks abruptly upwards. Almost at a near-vertical slant.

“It’s not me, I swear!”

Patton still can’t control the broom. An unseen force jerks it around, up and around, from side to side and doing it’s best attempt at a cha-cha. The broom flies up high, high, higher than all the skyscrapers. It comes to a sudden stop. The Moon looms overhead, chastising the Summer Breeze for its’ fun.

Meanwhile Patton is still attempting to remember the correct spell.

“Descent, wait no, DESCENTUS!” He cries out, and the broom glows bright with his magic.

His spell snatches the broom out of the Summer Breeze’s hold. Patton grips it, letting out a half-terrified half-elated yell as he regains control. The Moon and Summer Breeze watch, stunned, as the mortals they both yanked like a pair of dolls take control of their destinies.

They don’t have to watch for long. The ground quickly approaches the two mortals, ready for a harsh asphalt embrace.

“Patton!” Virgil screeches yet again, for it really is the only thing he’s capable of at this moment.

“It’s okay!” Patton reassures, a manic smile sparking his features again. A witch is only ever truly alive when performing magic. They feel purposeless without it. So even in this harrowing situation, Patton feels at ease. Although they once more fly fast towards the earth, it is from his spell. Not from a lack of confidence or meddling fates like before.

Still, it is his first time landing a broom and cement is hardly the perfect practice zone for such things. As they reach the ground, Patton pulls to a stop a moment too late. Both witch and familiar are sent tumbling down to the cruel cement.

Virgil instinctively lands on his feet. Patton’s descent is less than graceful. He skids on the ground, rolling, until he comes to a halt a few feet away. The broom is the worst off of the three. Upon impact it has splintered into three pieces, its head flying clean off the handle.

For three heartbeats there is nothing. Then Patton groans, his form slowly rising upwards. That’s enough to shake Virgil out of his stupor. He marches right up to Patton, words spitting out of his throat, “We are never doing that again. That was the stupidest, most moronic thing you’ve ever pulled, you could’ve gotten us both killed--”

Virgil stops, pupils growing wide, “Is that blood?”

“No!” Patton loudly denies, but his screwed-shut eyelids and grimace of pain betrays him. Virgil also isn’t blind. He can see the blood pouring out of Patton’s knee, soiling his knee-high kitten sock with its crimson color. It’s bad, so much worse than a mere scratch or scrape even.

“Holy shit, you’re going to die,” Virgil whispers, settling on top of Patton’s chest.

“I’m not gonna die--”

“Hey, are you two okay?!” A concerned voice shouts from afar. The two of them look up to see someone approaching them. A man, older than Patton yet too young to be his father. Perhaps in his thirties? He seemed nonthreatening with his Steven Universe shirt and pinched look of worry but Virgil knows better.

“Stay back!” Virgil hisses, hackles flaring up. He keeps his claws sheathed, not wanting to deal more harm to Patton than already dealt.

The stranger takes a few steps back, hands raised in a placating gesture. Virgil doesn’t relax a single muscle.

“Virgil,” Patton tries, silencing at the glare his familiar sends his way. Tears gather in the corner of his witch’s eyes now. So close to spilling over his freckled cheeks and down to his shirt. Patton’s knee is hurting him much more than he’s letting on.

“Listen,” The stranger says, ignoring Virgil’s yowl of disapproval, “I just want to help, promise.”

He crouches down, lifting something out of his coat pocket. A brown wiggling furry something with a long pink tail. A rat.

“Hiya babes,” The rat speaks, “The name’s Remington, Remy for short. This here tall glass of coffee is Thomas.”

“Y--you’re a witch?” Patton gasps, although if it’s from shock or pain Virgil can’t tell.

“Yup,” Remy says, seemingly confident to speak on Thomas’ behalf. He struts over to the two, ears and whiskers perked forwards. Virgil is taken aback by the gall of this rat.

“I could easily kill you, you know,” Virgil says, unable to keep this thought to himself.

The rat lets out a short squeak of laughter, “Oh honey, I’d like to see you try.”

Virgil’s tail flickers, “Don’t worry, I will--”

“Virgil.” Patton warns again, a hiss of pain escaping through clenched teeth. The rat treads closer to the affected knee. Virgil’s ears flatten, but he does not attack. He knows Patton would disapprove of that. Instead he waits, body tense and poised for action if needed.

“Oof, it looks like you’re gonna need stitches, Buttercup.”

“Stitches?” Virgil yowls.

“It’s alright, Virgil. I’m fine.” Patton says, smiling but it comes out all wrong. Like a rubber-band all stretched out and worn.

“No, you’re not. Y-you’re hurt.” Vigil rumbles, because he can feel it. Patton’s pain pulsates through their connection, like waves crashing against the shore. Magic caused this. Patton would be fine if they stayed in his apartment where it’s safe. Not out performing magic in the late hours. “Fuck, you’re hurt, and everyone’s going to hate us again--”

“Whoa,” Thomas interrupts, the first words he’s spoken since bringing out Remy, “no one is going to hate a Glistenstone student for not having proper control of their magic just yet.”

Patton shifts his gaze downward, hugging Virgil closely like a stuffed animal. Virgil, for his part, doesn’t protest. Instead he purrs into Patton’s chest in an attempt to soothe him. Glistenstone is a sore point for the both of them. For years it’d been their beacon of hope. An university solely for magic users--who sent their acceptance letters for those eligible at the age of eighteen.

Patton never received one.

“I’m afraid I’m not a Glistenstone student, sir,” Patton says with a shaky breath.

Thomas and Remy exchange a look.

“Well kid, would you like to become one?” Remy asks.

“What?!” Virgil and Patton burst out in unison, the latter with a yelp of pain.

“I, um, have connections--”

“Connections, alright, you have more than connections.” Remy inputs.

“But anyways,” Thomas continues, sending a quick look Remy’s way, “we can talk more on that later, if you’re interested. We should probably get that leg of yours checked out. Lemme help you up.”

He offers a hand towards Patton. Virgil coils himself around Patton’s shoulders, glaring distrustfully. Patton accepts the hand, leaning heavily on the older man for balance.

“I’m going to use a teleportation spell, alright?”

And with a flash, they’re gone.

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

An apartment, late at night. It’s a tiny one-room apartment cluttered with books and clothing spewed all over. The Moon peers through its sole window, watching a familiar pace in front of his witch. Patton sits on the edge of his bed, his knee all cleaned and stitched up. Silence reigns in the apartment, an uncomfortable one at that. One neither occupant can stand much longer.

“I’m sorry, Vee,” Patton says, breaking first, “I should’ve really thought before I attempted flying like that. You were right, I almost killed us both.”

Virgil swishes his tail, looking up at his witch. He can never remain upset with Patton for long. Especially when he holds back a sob, curling into himself as if expecting a blow. Any residual anger in Virgil’s veins solidifies into guilt.

“No, I’m sorry,” He says, “I--I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Patton insists, “I know you were just worried.”

“Still doesn’t make it right.”

Patton sighs, “I forgive you, can we just cuddle now?”

“If you want to, I guess.” Virgil murmurs, but it’s an act. The way he immediately purrs after wedging himself in Patton’s arms betrays him. His witch laughs, petting his silky fur.

“What...do you think?”

“Of what?”

“Glistenstone.”

Virgil’s ears twitch downwards. Thomas had given his contact info to Patton, telling him to call him in the morning if he was interested in pursuing Glistenstone.

“I...don’t know. It seems fishy to me. Like, why now? Why didn’t you get an acceptance letter before? And what type of connections does that Thomas guy have? I don’t trust it. But I also know I’m just paranoid about everything.”

“You’re not paranoid, you’re just overly cautious. I know this and I love you.” Patton says, pressing a kiss on Virgil’s forehead.

“I love you too, Pat,” Virgil hesitates, “and that’s why I think you shouldn’t let me hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back,” Patton pouts, and really how does he expect Virgil to handle this level of positivity? It’s too much for his small feline body.

“What I mean is, if you want to go for it, go for it. And if it turns out to be some sort of con, then you can just, like, hex ‘em or something.”

“Like Bart Fischley in fifth grade?” Patton asks, stifling a giggle.

“Sure.”

Patton nods measuredly, scratching that magical spot between Virgil’s ears. Really, totally unfair. Virgil leans into it, purring louder.

“Hey, do you still want to watch Nightmare before Christmas?”

“That depends...do I still get as many treats as I want?”

“Of course! But for tonight only!” Patton tells him. Virgil smirks as best he can--for it’s something he’s heard numerous times before.

The moon’s eye turns away the dingy apartment, clouds drawing a curtain over her. The summer night is slowly drawing to a close, as has the midnight mischief. The mortals she is so fond of are safe within their dwelling. For the moment, all is well.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #moxiety #thomas sanders (character)#remy sanders #kat writes

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kaurwreck · 4 years ago

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my @lgbtincomics secret gift exchange gift for @augustheart!

Thomas Blake woke from a fitful sleep begrudgingly. His mouth felt sticky, and his eyes burned as he pried them open with the enthusiasm of a man hungover, without any of the fond memories of drinking.

A glance at the ungodly hour on the decrepit, ornate grandfather clock across the room and Thomas was almost sure he hadn’t slept very much at all. He couldn’t be entirely sure because the clock, like much of the House of Secrets, operated on its own logic, but he was sure enough to feel ornery over it.

He groaned, rolled over, and curled in on himself beneath his quilt.

He waited.

He uncurled himself.

He waited.

He flipped his pillow over.

He waited.

He rolled onto his stomach.

He waited.

He kicked away the blanket, only to scramble to pull it back over his naked body because what the house lacked in charm, contemporary amenities, sense, and taste, it also lacked in insulation and Vermont winters were unforgiving.

Still, he couldn’t fall back asleep, no matter how terribly badly he wanted to be not awake.

It wasn’t just that he hadn’t slept much the night before. He felt uselessly cantankerous for several reasons, most of which revolved around the emptiness of the vast, damnable house that only felt like home when the only people he loved were around.

But Sue and Ralph were on vacation somewhere warm. Scandal, Knockout, and Liana had their own home, and their own family. Bane was likely in Gotham, snapping at the Bat’s heels again, while Dead Shot was working. The last Thomas had reached out, Jeanette, Porcelain, and Ragdoll were running some grift or another. Or they were grifting each other. One of the two. Or both.

Black Alice was… somewhere, Thomas was never sure where she went when she went away, but she certainly wasn’t with him. Once, she’d tried to explain to Thomas the finer complexities of her role as a magic user in the broader web of their universe’s structure, but Thomas didn’t much care to try and understand magic users after the messy business with Etrigan and Atlantis.

It wasn’t Thomas’s place to tell his pride where they should go and what they should do.

Even if it was January, and even if January was cold and uncomfortably liminal and empty without them.

Thomas cut his losses and rolled out of bed. He couldn’t sleep, and so he’d make himself breakfast instead, and maybe find some priceless historical or magical artifact in the House of Secrets to irreparably damage for his own spiteful amusement.

Clothes irritated his skin, but he tugged on a pair of socks to acknowledge the chill. He padded across the wood floor and opened his bedroom door, closed it, and then opened it again until it led to a hallway and not a yawning chasm, as the rooms were wont to do in the House of Secrets. It only took forty-three more minutes before he found the kitchen.

Thomas liked eggs. They were tasty, they were a valuable source of protein, and they were easy to cook. Unfortunately, they were easy to cook. He needed something to occupy him a little more fully than eggs usually could, and so he compensated by cooking each egg individually. He was frying his third egg when he heard a soft scratching from the kitchen entrance. He froze and jerked his head to the sound.

There stood Strix, in a pair of overalls. She held a notepad, which read:

‘I WANT EGGS 2’

Despite the frigid house, Thomas cracked a smile.

“Sure thing, Strix. How long have you been here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

Strix returned to her notepad. When she held it up again, it read: ‘BIG HOUSE. GOT LOST.’

Thomas nodded sagely. “It’s tricky. You get used to it though.” He glanced around himself, at the high rafters and ambiguously dated kitchen appliances. “Sort of. Never mind. Grab a seat. How do you want your eggs?”

Strix cocked her head, and Thomas huffed.

“I don’t only make scrambled eggs. I can cook them in other ways too. Fried. Basted, probably.”

Strix smiled and climbed up onto the counter next to the stove. She perched there, glanced at the pile of fried eggs Thomas had already prepared, and pointed.

“Fried it is,” Thomas said. “Good choice.”

Thomas felt warm, with Strix there. He stood over the stove and chatted with her, updating her on things while she scrawled her responses and offered her own goings on. He made more eggs than either of them could eat, because he worried that when she finished eating, she’d leave again.

He was on the last egg in the kitchen when there was a shriek.

“Oh, my god,” Liana shouted while Knockout and Scandal burst into laughter from the kitchen’s threshold. “You’re naked! Why are you naked?”

“It’s my house!” Thomas retorted defensively, although he couldn’t help his smile. He’d thought they’d be home, with their newborn baby of only three months. They looked great, for all that Thomas heard about parenthood. They looked wonderful, even.

“Oh, it’s your house now,” Scandal snorted. “Hey, there, Blake. Strix, he’s feeding you something better than just eggs, right?”

Strix, looking terribly indignant on behalf of Thomas, wrote, ‘I ASKED 4 EGGS!’

“I stand corrected,” Scandal said. “Maybe there isn’t anything better than Thomas Blake’s eggs.”

“Is there anything to eat other than eggs?” Knockout asked, breezing past Thomas and Strix to sling the door open. Thomas scratched the back of his head as she appraised the shelves, empty but for a single takeout box from three weeks prior, a bottle of horseradish, and an unidentifiable, sticky substance smeared on the shelf.

Knockout rolled her eyes, but she was grinning stupidly enough that Thomas knew she’d missed him too.

And then she touched the sticky substance, and Thomas, Liana, and Scandal shouted, “No!” in unison.

“I’m only trying to identify it!” Knockout insisted, while Liana scrambled over the kitchen island to snatch her wrist from the offending goop. There wasn’t a reality where Liana should have been able to make a former Female Fury do anything, but such was the peculiar power of love, Thomas supposed, as Liana dragged Knockout to the sink to wash her hand.

Scandal nudged Thomas with her shoulder. “We haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. Or you,” she looked pointedly at Strix who shrugged sheepishly.

‘BIZZY,’ Strix wrote.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Thomas muttered, as he shoved the burning egg around in the pan. “How’s the baby?”

Scandal rolled her eyes. “You’re not a bother. I’d be lost without you to occasionally punch around. And our kitten’s doing well; Bane’s got her for the weekend, in Santa Prisca.”

Thomas whistled. “That’s a big step. It’s got to be the first time you’ve been away from her since she was born, right?”

Scandal bit her lip and nodded. “We want them to have a relationship, and of course I trust him with her. But I got a little anxious, so my loves thought it would be a good time to be close with family while I work on letting go a little.”

Warmth blossomed in Thomas’s chest. He decided it was heartburn.

Thomas turned off the stove and made a face at Scandal. “Nah, don’t do that. I don’t think I’d like you as much if you learned to relax. Yeah, I think I’d hate you, actually. But I’m happy to keep you company, as long as you promise to stay full of piss and vinegar.”

“For you?” Scandal mused. “Always.”

He took out a few more plates and began divvying up the mountain of his and Strix’s eggs. At Liana’s insistence, they moved to the parlor, each clutching a plate of eggs. Or they tried to move to the parlor, given the mutable nature of the House. It took a few attempts at a few different doors, but when they finally found the room, the fireplace was already crackling with heat and Jeanette and Kani were lounging on the chaise.

“Well, it certainly took you long enough, darlings,” Kani purred, and Thomas felt her familiar gaze like a favorite blanket as she playfully glanced at him up and down. “Thomas, have you gotten prettier since I last saw you?”

“Yes,” Thomas said definitively, glancing behind him, towards the kitchen, as he realized they didn’t have enough plates for everyone.

“Settle, Thomas. I’m sure we’ll be gifted by your culinary prowess later, but it’s not important for now. Come, have some cheese,” Jeanette said, gesturing to a characteristically pretentious charcuterie board she must have arranged on the table between the chaise and the fireplace.

“I mean, feel free to put some pants on first,” Liana said, breezing by him to flop onto an overstuffed loveseat across from Kani and Jeanette. She plucked a piece of egg from her plate and tossed it in her mouth.

“And deprive us the view?” Kani winked. Thomas rolled his eyes with a grin he couldn’t quite repress and grabbed a throw blanket to toss around his waist.

Strix glanced about, a touch nervously, at the cozy but cramped interior of the room. Knockout noticed and left her plate with Scandal before collecting a small mountain of volumes of what must have been priceless books from a shelf set into the wall. Then, she dragged a chair over by the room’s window. She stacked the books beneath each leg of the chair, until the chair towered high enough that Strix perked up in delight. Strix scrambled up the makeshift perch and settled into it happily.

‘THANK U,’ Strix wrote.

“Of course, little owl,” Knockout replied, before finding her place on the love seat, with Scandal and Liana.

Thomas sunk into the chaise at Kani and Jeanette’s insistence, and almost immediately Jeanette was tsk’ing and fussing over his hair while Kani launched into stories from the con she and Jeanette had just finished pulling over Ragdoll.

Thomas relished that there, in that moment, within that early morning, the House of Secrets felt like home.

#lgbtincomics #augustheart #gift exchange 2020 #secret six #thomas blake #scandal savage #strix #porcelain #jeanette #knockout #liana kerzner #canon is my sandbox

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nanoland · 3 years ago

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new chapter (supernatural fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here)

Clean Hands, part 3

Crowley/Castiel/Dean Winchester, warning for violence and spn demons being spn demons

Another day, another assassination attempt.

“Congratulations, sir,” said Paula, bustling in with his coffee and daily planner. “That brings it to eight, yes? I recall your making some remark about throwing a small office party if we hit ten before the end of the month.”

Lifting the corpse off the row of retractable spikes he’d installed in his desk, Crowley grunted, “It was a joke. On the other hand, maybe it would be good for morale. Make the blighters less determined to snuff me.”

“I’ll add it to the calendar. Sir, your ten ‘o clock is waiting in the lobby. Should I send him in?”

Technically, ‘ten ‘o clock’ didn’t exist in Hell. Time didn’t exist in Hell.

But by God, it did for Paula.

Infamous among Crowley’s minions, she ruled his appointment diary with an iron fist (well – iron talons, more accurately) and kept a horseman’s pick tucked neatly under her workstation for anyone who was more than five minutes late.

She’d been the most competent corporate PA in the business when Crowley had purchased her soul in exchange for a medical breakthrough that had beaten down her cancer and allowed her those ten precious years. It would, in fact, have allowed her a normal human lifespan, if not for Crowley’s hounds.

(Her wish was among his favourites and her contract had pride of place in his trophy cabinet. She could have just said ‘cure me’; she’d dreamed bigger. Ambition! Now that was what Crowley liked to see. Very few people who sold their souls managed to leave the world a better place than they’d found it.

Truthfully, arranging the breakthrough had taken an amount of power on his part that, ordinarily, he’d have objected to. Ever since the Zuckerberg Incident of 2004, Crowley had maintained a policy against granting wishes that fundamentally altered the pace and trajectory of human scientific development. But he’d wanted her. Reliable PAs were like gold dust and they almost always went to bloody Heaven. “And for what, I ask you?” he’d said to Dean once. “How much admin is really involved in keeping people locked in a lotus-eater machine?”)

“The ten… oh, piss. It’s Alan, isn’t it? Yes, yes. Let’s get this over with. Send him in.”

Another day, another fucking workplace harassment mess to sort out. How many more sodding seminars was he going to have to host before they all got it through their heads that biting off a co-worker’s arm was not a viable long-term conflict resolution strategy?

Sigh.

It was only after four meetings and sixteen calls that Crowley remembered he’d not yet disposed of the assassin.

“I suppose I should make an example of you,” he huffed, already imagining it.

The hassle.

The bother.

Getting an apron on.

Finding the hammer.

Lugging the stupid bastard up a ladder and nailing him to the office noticeboard by his scrote.

He could always ask Paula to do it. But, bless her heart, she’d only been a demon for six years and arranging a corpse for maximum intimidation was just as much a matter of practice as talent.

As Crowley was fetching the ladder, Gwen from Legal arrived whey-faced and dogged by two dozen assistants and interns.

“Sir, it’s a catastrophe,” she wailed.

Five minutes later, Crowley was back at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Avoidable. Utterly, pathetically avoidable. All you had to do was amend the contract to state that the phrase ‘ten years’ refers solely and specifically to Earth’s orbital period, not the orbital period of the contractee.”

Gwen hung her head. “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. Finding qualified staff to manage this sort of deal is tricky. When people with, you know, science degrees and stuff die and are damned, the assholes over at the Experimental Punishments Department always snatch ‘em up first. It’s a real problem.”

“I’ll have a word with them. Ugh – alright, alright, let’s try and sort this out. How long is a Martian year?”

“The internet says six hundred and eighty-seven days.”

“Damn. Almost twice as long,” Crowley grumbled, pouring himself a drink. “What did he even want from us? He’s a billionaire. The list of things they can’t get without our help grows shorter by the day.”

“He wanted to guarantee that he’d be the first man on Mars, sir; that none of his competitors would get there before he did.”

“Wait. Hold on. The thing he wished for and the mechanism by which he’s attempting to fuck us over are one and the same? Oh, no, no, no. I’m not going to take that cheeky bollocks lying down. Get the head of Research and Development in here, now. We’re going to find out how to crash a spaceship.”

Gwen’s gaze flickered to the assassin’s corpse. “Um.”

“Fuck,” Crowley muttered.

At which point Paula tapped on the door to ask if he wanted to reschedule his next five meetings, because unless he could deal with them all in a grand total of twelve minutes, he’d be late for his call with the NRA’s chairman.

When Castiel arrived – without an appointment, as per usual, but Paula had standing instructions to let him through – he found Crowley resting his head on his desk, fantasising about being a paperweight.

“I’ve come for more sex,” he explained.

Dragging himself from despair’s depths, Crowley slurred, “T’riffic.”

He instructed his meat suit to sit up and turn on the winning smile. Unlike more reliable vehicles, possessed bodies didn’t have dashboard lights to indicate an exhausted battery; instead, it announced its displeasure by growing three new tumours.

Castiel stepped back, confused. Displeased. “You’re usually more enthusiastic than this. Why is your desk covered in diagrams of rockets? Is this a ‘new hobby’?”

Exaggerated finger quotes. Damn him to the pit, he was precious.

“Kitten, rest assured I have only two hobbies and they both dress badly.”

He expected retaliation for that. Castiel hated being reminded that Crowley regularly dallied with his favourite human. It came as a surprise, then, when the angel simply reached out and firmly gripped his shoulder, declaring, “You need to rest.”

Wings flapped. Suddenly, Crowley was standing in front of a wide, glassy lake, surrounded by dense forest, and in the distance…

“Is that Mount Fuji?”

“Indeed,” said Castiel, smiling briefly. “She’s a childhood friend. I first visited when she was little more than an unusually picturesque bump in the ground.”

There was no one around. There was nothing around. No boats on the lake, no fishermen, no families on holiday, not even the distant roar of traffic. Just them, the view, the water, and a – huh – a bright orange tent pitched nearby.

“This is where I come to relax,” Castiel informed him, opening up the zipper.

“Whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“Huh. I wasn’t aware that you…”

“That I what?”

“Owned things. Or even grasped the concept of owning things. Don’t give me that look; you’re the one who’s worn the same socks ever since you slipped into that God-bothering flesh puppet.”

Castiel sniffed. “Materialism is a disease. But I’m not a child, Crowley. For your information, in my time on Earth I have owned many things.”

Always fun to ruffle the pretty bird’s feathers. “Yeah? How many of them were hand-me-downs from the Hardy Boys?”

“Most of them,” he said, levelly. “With the exception of this tent and your ass, demon.”

A pin drop pause.

Castiel maintained unblinking eye contact for exactly twelve seconds, then turned and crawled into his neon den.

Practically vibrating with adoration, Crowley followed.

It was evident that Castiel, despite his laudable efforts to create a space for himself in a world that had no space for him, didn’t entirely grok camping.

There were no sleeping bags. Instead, the tent’s bottom was covered in duvets, dozens of them, soft and fresh as if they’d come directly from the shop – or, more accurately, Crowley suspected, someone’s washing line.

“I cured her dog’s foot infection,” Castiel said, somewhat defensively, settling into his cotton and fleece nest.

“Ah. And she was so grateful she said you could make off with all her laundry, hm?”

“She… did not say those words, precisely. But it was heavily implied.”

Thank sin this was only a meat suit. Thank sin, thank everything that Castiel couldn’t see the expression of hopeless, pitiable fondness that would have adorned Crowley’s true face at that moment.

It was a relief when Castiel, without further ado, started undressing. Crowley, copying him, took the opportunity to talk sense into himself.

Come on. Grow up. Get it together. You know what you are. More importantly, you know what he is. Ageless. Unfathomable. Demons, at the end of the day, are just distilled human nastiness, but him? He existed before humans. Before microbes. He’s nice to babies and bees and pot plants and Dean and that makes it easy to forget that… that…

Oh, yes. Remember when he came to Hell? The first time he saw Dean; the start of their epic, eternal, infuriating romance? And where were you? That’s right. You were with the others, standing there slack-jawed and helpless, like dinosaurs watching the comet hit. Like children gazing up at a mushroom cloud.

Twelve thousand. That’s how many demons he burned out of existence, without even trying. Twelve thousand.

Do you think he ever thinks about them? Do you think he even noticed?

Twelve thousand.

Do you think he knows how close you were to being one of them?

Do you think he cares?

He’s nice to babies. Bees. Pot plants. Dean. You, even, sometimes. He’s sweet. He’s got big, soft blue eyes and hair that aches to be tussled. He’s a top-tier, world-class fuck. And at any moment, for any reason, he could end you, easy as blowing away dust, and you can’t say for certain he would even remember your name in a month’s time.

“What? No,” Castiel protested when Crowley kissed him. “We’re here to rest, Crowley.”

Drawing back, Crowley leered. “That’s what you want to do, is it? Rest?”

Perpetually thirsty tart that he was, Castiel bit his lip and looked torn. “I… yes.”

Crowley pouted.

Firmer now, Castiel said, “We will rest for a while first. Then we will have sex. Is that satisfactory?”

No sooner had Crowley resignedly nodded than Castiel seized him and finished undressing him, tossing his undershirt and socks out the tent. When they were both naked, the cold air coming off the lake making Crowley shiver, Castiel burrowed into his pilfered pile and dragged the demon down with him.

“Rest first,” he ordered him. “Sex afterwards. No, no – stop that. Afterwards, I said.”

Crowley groaned and whined and fussed, but obeyed.

And bugger him gently if it wasn’t actually pleasant, very pleasant, to lie there with Castiel’s strong arms locked around his torso, toasty warm under layers of wool while, outside, the lake lapped at its bank and wind rustled through the trees. No assassins. No paperwork. No blood. Everything nice and quiet. Everything calm and clean.

Then Castiel sighed, a hot puff against the back of Crowley’s neck, and said, “You know, the thing that vexes me most about Dean is the way he…”

#supernatural #crowley #castiel #crowstiel #dean winchester #drowley #destiel #drowstiel #fanfic #my fic

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