#“must you try to split me in half both ways you fucking animal”

[prismatoxic]

for whatever it's worth i already have extensive headcanons for inter-species breeding between half-foots and tall-men and also a name for the chilaios baby (they have a son, it's chilchuck's first ever boy, his trans ass feels weirdly validated about his genes spitting one out finally)

[potentialguybodyswaps]

HBO Titians Superboy and Beast Boy Bodyswap part 1

“Dam superboy really is shredded huh” I said to myself feeling my stolen chest… well not really stolen but more like forcibly given…

See after superboy and lex Luther had been

poisoned by this witch (lex Luther was already dead by the time superboy fell ill) the titians had me morph into a virus so I could enter his blood and try to fight off that of something there was no cure for. It had to be me, I was the only chance to do anything medically for superboy on the inside, I mean after all he was the son of Superman, the man of steel. nothing we have would be able to cut into his skin, and if we use kryptinite to soften him up, the magical poison could have just spread faster resulting in his death

The team was worried that if I became an organism that small I might not be able to get out of his blood stream or if I lost control and changed sizes inside of him, it’d kill us both.

But what choice did I have, do nothing and let superboy die? Or risk both our lives to save him? Well I wasn’t gonna let one of my best friends die, so I shrunk down into a tube, and let them inject me though his airway (basically like a nasal spray)

Once inside of him I made my way around microscopically for hours, destroying bit by bit of the poison untill I got the signal that he would be fine

Now getting back out was a bit tricky, even if they could tell exactly where I was in his body and inject a needle to pull me out, there would be no needle…… they kind of have a habit of liking to break in half when you try to insert them inside of someone that’s as hard as steel…

So I decided best course of action is to go out the way I came in, though the lungs, once in the lungs I morphed into a fly, his immune system didn’t exactly like that, or maybe I just ticked his lungs haha, cause I was immediately blown out with the force of a hurricane, lucky I didn’t go splat hitting, well any object on the way out… to be fair the moment I saw light (despite me flying at hundreds of miles an hour, out his system in a split second) I started to remorph into myself, so they probs helped with not going splat, when I hit the floor.

“Gar, are you ok?” Asked knightwing (our team leader)

“Yay, just hurt a bit after getting blown out going Mach Jesus” I said weakly

“ well thanks to you, superboy is gonna be fine, we’re glad we didn’t lose ether of you, we had our doubts, but you did it, you saved the day gar, go get some rest, you’ve earned it” knightwing said patting me on the shoulder

“Ow that hurts dick” I said wincing

“Okay well goodnight gang ima go sleep for like 12 hours, come get me when we have a mission/ ready to hunt down that witch again” I said already half asleep dragging myself along the walks to my room and bed

That night I had some of the weirdest dreams, I dreamed that I was superboy, but I knew that I was me still on the inside, but I couldn’t control my transformations, like I’d focus on transforming and it was like I could just feel time slow down, nothing would happen

I woke up 10 hours after I saved superboy, I was in my bed and I could feel the torn clothes around “oh no, I must have been sleep transforming again” I thought to myself

“Am I still transformed? I feel bigger, and full of energy, and this is coming from the guy that everyone clearly knows has adhd, and spends most of his time as a lion or other big enemies helping take down the bad guys” I thought to myself

I swung myself around to sit up on my bad, and opened my eyes to look at myself, “nope still human” I thought to myself “that’s good”

I yawned as I got up and started stretching. but i could still feel the breeze from tearing my clothing in my sleep

I opened my eyes again and looked down just to scream

“Ahhhhhh why am I so big, I’m not even green, so this definitely isn’t a animal transformation” I said trying to remain calm

I ran to the mirror but was there in less than a micro second, “what the fuck” I said catching myself on the sink careful not to break it with my impact

I looked up into the mirror and lost it, “i-I-im superboy” I said feeling my face

“Oh man this is so crazy, I have to go tell dick, or even raven, she’d know what to do, this must be a side effect of the magic that was in his blood or something

Oh man, it’s gonna be weird having 2 super boy’s on the team “ I said still checking myself out in the mirror

So far I’ve been very careful not to look at superboy’s dick but if I’m stuck looking like him, I mean it’s only a matter of time right?

I decided before I go confront the team, I guess I should go shower first, typically when I have dreams like these where I transform in them, I kinda sweat a lot…

I stepped into the shower and started washing my hair, and eventually the time came to scrub my body.

I looked down and gasped, “dude, I know superboy is a clone but what possible need could superboy need a super dick for, like this thing is huge” I thought to myself as I began stroking it

Unfortunately for me, and superboy I guess, it doesn’t feel as good as it did when I was still me, I was probably stroking it for close to 40 minutes before I was even close to cumming, “dam” I thought to myself “if it takes me this long to even get close to cumming, superboy could probably fuck someone to death”

After that thought I started laughing to myself, “ man besides the whole lack of sensitivity down there, this might not be to bad of a problem, I mean after all who wouldn’t wanna fuck superboy right?”

At that point starfire came running into the bathroom yelling my name “Beast boy, I know your probably wanting to get acquainted with your new body but nows not the time”

“What do you mean” I said “I’m super boy”

“ no your not, super boy is in your body that’s still in the medical room, we’ve already cleared him for combat, come on I know it’s you gar, we gotta go, we got a new lead on that witch, she’ll have the answers to how this happened”

“B-b-but star are you sure, like I haven’t even had this body for like 2 hours yet, I don’t know how to use his powers” I said with a look of confusion

“Funny, superboy said the same thing… Just punch hard, come on we gotta go NOW gar.”

#edit this post originally had nudity in it of some guy that looked like the superboy actor but tumblr blocked it…

Guess a more explicit version will have to wait till I make a patreon haha

200 followers and I’ll start making explicit versions on patreon ?

[moved2usagiiboo]

Daydreaming

Def; Daydreaming is the stream of consciousness that detaches from current, external tasks when attention drifts to a more personal and internal direction. 

Synonyms; Trance, fantasy, Hallucination

Chifuyu x fem!reader

Minors DNI, thank you.

You were stunning, enticing, gorgeous. You were a angel sent down from heaven with the job of blessing young men's hearts. You shined bright like the rays on a sunny day.

You were his everything and yet you weren't his. As a matter of fact, he barely knew anything about you but you have him wrapped around your delicate finger. He was whipped.

Chifuyu met you one day, when he had been tasked with a mid-day coffee run for him and his co-worker. He walked into the café, the smell of coffee and pastries engulfed his noise, it was a small cat café not too far from where he worked. Nothing more than a five minute walk, Chifuyu heard cats meow and purred as they rubbed against his pants.

He bent down rubbing the head of the nearest cat to him, he lifted the cat up cradling it as he walked towards the menu.

"Hi! Welcome to Neko-Sama, what can I get for you today." You beamed at him from behind the counter with the softest smile. Your voice rung in his ears like a soft melody, your smile made heat rush to his face in an instant.

You had your hair in pigtails with pink and white cat ears, and a frilly maid costume draped over your body. You shuffled your body feeling Chifuyu's eyes look you up and down eyeing your attire.

You were adorable.

You stared at the man with cat like eyes, you catched your eyes with his before turning away and giving an awkward cough to clear the air.

"Wow, Tuba doesn't really like anybody..." You drifted off, "Much less let people hold her, you must be a great guy!"

"Tuba?" He questioned earning a small meow from the ginger cat that was in his arms nuzzling his head on his arm. "O-Oh! Well, I do work with animals, that's probably why." He chuckles softly petting the cat.

"That's amazing, I got this job here to work with animals. I adore cats, they're just so cute." You practically squealed, "Sorry! M'rambling" You looked down with a slight your ears slightly red from embarrassment.

The only thing that ran through Chifuyu's head was how adorable you were. Would it be weird if he asked for your number? You both just met, but he can't help but want to know more about you.

"N-No, no, not at all. Honestly, I thought it was cute..." He says the last part ever so softly, tightening his grip on the cat due to nervousness. The cat bites Chifuyu's hand in response jumping out of his arms, "Oh.. Guess I pissed him off." You both laughed at the cat as you watched him lick himself in spite.

For a split second you both lock eyes, you turn your head down to the iPad on the counter before beaming a smile at him.

"So! What can I get for you today?"

Ever since then Chifuyu has found reasons to make his way to the café. His co-worker caught onto him leaving work to bring back coffee and various snacks, one day he asked him about it.

"I like the coffee." He plainly replied, he would repeat this phrase over and over not only to those who asked about his constant ventures to the café but to convince himself that it wasn't because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face.

Totally not because he hopes that his constant visits would bring upon something. Something more than small talk as you prepared his drink, he convinced himself that he didn't want to be the reason you smile everyday.

You weren't running through his mind, he couldn't be in love with a girl be barely knows.

But the way you blush when he gives you small compliments, it's just too cute to ignore.

Over the course of a few months you and the man got closer, you learn his name and he yours. You were both around the same age, 23, you still being in college working towards your degree and him owning a animal shop.

One day, on a cold winter evening Chifuyu found himself at the café once again. So far he has been to Neko-Sama almost everyday. Naturally, being the animal person he is, he has created a bond with the cats there. Especially Tuna.

Tuna meows the loudest whenever Chifuyu is in the establishment, that's when you begin to prepare his drink. His order changes with the season, as any good barista does, you remember his orders for each season.

Being that it's winter you prepare his drink, a medium peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. You found it cute how a grown man would order such a cute drink.

"Good evening Chifuyu-san." You smiled placing his drink at his regular table. He takes off his coat setting it down on the seat next to him.

"I told you to drop the formalities, we're the same age Y/n." He sighs, softly thanking you for preparing his drink. He blows the steam away before taking a sip.

"I can't help it, you just seem so much older " You giggle before sitting next to him on the booth couch.

"Should I call you Fuyu' from now on?" You tapped your chin with a hum pretending to think.

"Do what you want, dummy Y/n." He mutters, hoping you're unaware of the burn on the tip of his ears.

Tuna jumped his way onto the seat laying on Chifuyu's coat, his purrs nothing more than a background sound as you and Chifuyu indulge in a conversation.

"And look at this, the new cat is so playful," Chifuyu chuckles pulling his phone out, "Look, she basically destroyed this toy we gave her." He shows you pictures of the cat along with the aftermath of her playtime. You giggle as he swiped through his phone.

This wasn't your fault. You could barely see the screen because of the glare from the lights, you shift your body closer to him. Chifuyu freezes as he feels your clothed breasts push up against him as you stare at his screen unaware of your actions.

"You okay?" You ask staring at his face, cupping it with your hands. His whole body locked up at your touch, his face was bright red with sweat heading down the side of his temple. "You're burning up!" You half screen putting the back of your hand on his forehead, "Are you sick?" You frantically ask while gripping the man's face.

"M'fine.. Just" He trails off, looking at your glistening lips, "Dizzy...."

"Fuyu, you idiot. You need to go home when you don't feel well..." You sighed, "Come on let me walk you home, my shift is over anyways."

Chifuyu waited outside feeling dizzy off of your touch, his head throbbed and his heart pounded. Maybe he was sick.

"Sorry it took so long, Tuna didn't want to go in his cage..." You sigh locking up, you looked at Chifuyu and worry spread across your face. Chifuyu's chest heaved up and down heavily, he looked out of breath as if he ran a marathon.

You quickly take off your scarf and wrapped it around his neck, he softly gasped at the sudden action.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" You lock arms with him and following him as he walked to his apartment. You missed the way his face got brighter as he smelt your scent on the scarf. You said your goodbyes telling him to take medicine and get a good night's rest.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped down on his way to the shower feeling lightheaded, after his shower he took his medicine like you told him to, he wasted no time getting into his bed not before grabbing your scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He ignored the cries of his cat as he tried to drift off to sleep trying to forget the throbbing pain in his head.

ミ❣️That night he couldn't sleep, maybe it was the throbbing pain in his head or the nauseous feeling he'd get everytime he would shift his body.

ミ❣️Or possible it was the fact that everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch.

ミ❣️Your hands were soft, oh so plush.

ミ❣️And your lips, the way they glistened due to the lip gloss you would constantly put on for worry your lips would dry out.

ミ❣️He couldn't forget your whines and pouts when he would call you, "dummy y/n" a nickname you acquired after spraining your ankle slipping while trying to give Tuna a bath.

ミ❣️The way you would stick out your bottom lip, your eyes would shine as if you were about to cry when he had to leave early...

ミ❣️You were adorable, his perfect little angel.

ミ❣️He drifts off daydreaming about every aspect of you that he loves, its a innocent little crush.

ミ❣️He begins to drift off about the way you dress, those pink cat ears that jingle everytime you move. That slutty maid costume that barely covered your ass. Those adorable stripped thigh highs that covered your thighs, pushing up the fat to the uncovered part of your upper thighs.

ミ❣️He nuzzled his flushed face into the scarf engulfing his nose in your sweet scent. It smelt like the fragrance you would constantly wear...

ミ❣️What was it again?

ミ❣️Fuck, he can't think straight trying to remember the name of your perfume makes his head hurt.

ミ❣️But thinking about how you would bend down he would get a full view of your plush cheeks made his cock hurt.

ミ❣️The way you would shake and sway your hips with each step you took.

ミ❣️He isn't in the right headspace, his mind has drifted away from his body. He's long gone, he lost all control of his actions.

ミ❣️Chifuyu is needy, the thoughts go right to his cock. His length twitched with every memory of you.

ミ❣️When did he pull his pants down to his knees?

ミ❣️When did his breath become broken and eratic?

ミ❣️He doesn't know how he ended feeling his dick through his underwear, how he began to fist his dick, all curled up in a ball, trying to release.

ミ❣️His other hand pulling the scarf closer to his nose to take deep inhales.

ミ❣️Chifuyu's voice becomes audible as soft groans leave his mouth.

ミ❣️Nothing more than pre-cum dripped from the tip of his angry cock as he aggressively jerked his hand up and down the length of his shaft, gripping it harder trying to get friction.

ミ❣️He just needed to cum.

ミ❣️It wasn't working. He spat in his hand, rolling into his back. He pr sses his thumb onto his tip. He hissed in pain as a electric jolt shot through his body.

ミ❣️His proud cock standing tall as he moved his hand up and down while simultaneously slightly thrusting his hips upwards. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when it just.. wasn't working.

It wasnt you

ミ❣️Chifuyu pulled his pillow from his head, shifting his position once more, laying back on his side, putting his cock onto the surface of the pillow. He slowly humped his pillow, grinding his dick into the pillow.

ミ❣️He found himself wondering what you were doing right now, if at night you played with yourself.

ミ❣️No, no, not that. He wondered how well you would take him, if you'd scream his name, begging him to go faster, calling him all sorts of names,

ミ❣️Daddy

ミ❣️Master

ミ❣️ They would sound so pretty coming out of your mouth

ミ❣️As he claimed your pussy as his spraying your insides with his cum.

ミ❣️Nah, you were too innocent for that... You were the type of girl to blush when somebody accidentally touches your hand of gives you a compliment.

ミ❣️If anything you would fail to understand why your core was heating up, desperate to feel something inside you but not understanding the meaning.

ミ❣️That's it, you'd come to him crying asking for him to help you feel better.

ミ❣️He groaned at the thought of him placing his hand around your throat while tongue fucking your mouth. You would struggle to kiss back as he roughly explored your mouth with his tongue. Your knees would buckle from the pleasure. He would pick you up, holding the back of your knees, gently grinding his hard cock against your sex.

ミ❣️He would treat you like a princess.

ミ❣️Laying on your back as you hurried to take your soaking panties off, your slick juices leaving a single string that was attached to your panties, proof that you were wetting your undergarments like a dirty slut.

ミ❣️Your face would be red as you shamelessly tell him in the softest tone.

ミ❣️"Want you so bad Fuyu'"

ミ❣️Fuck, his thrusts became more erratic, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on his pillow.

ミ❣️Yeah, you'd call him by his nickname as you begged him to claim you, ruin you.

ミ❣️He imagine him sinking his fingers, he'd start with one not wanting to hurt you. Your tight untouched cunt tightly squeezing his finger. You would already be a moaning mess, Fuyu was talking all your firsts.

ミ❣️Your slightly loosened sex would take in another finger. You would try your best to muffle your slutty moans as he fingers your soaking pussy. You'd cover your mouth with your hand as his finger curled inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl and eyes widen.

ミ❣️You'd moan his name, begging him to stop. It felt weird, felt too good, something was coming.

ミ❣️He'd give you your first orgasm with his fingers, you had drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, your face was red. You were already so fucked out on his fingers.

ミ❣️He felt his cock twitch with these thoughts. He mindlessly began to fuck his pillow into the mattress, his body now on top of the pillow as he grinded on top of the pillow.

ミ❣️He'd have you suck on his fingers tasting yourself as he began to eat you out. His tongue slipping in and out of your slit, naughty slurping sounds emitted from the room as he throat fucked you with his digits that were once in your pussy. His nose would occasionally hit your lip causing you to arch your back pushing his tongue deeper inside you.

ミ❣️You love being eaten out huh? Love it when daddy fucks you with his tongue. Such a dirty little thing.

ミ❣️All the dirty things he could think of seeps from his mouth, while eating you out. He'd bring you to another orgasm with ease.

ミ❣️"Y/n, fuck, m'gonna cum" Chifuyu grunted out in a out of breath voice, he felt his cock spurt out his cum into his pillow, yet he wasn't satisfied.

ミ❣️He leaned back onto his shins, his knees pressing into the bed as he lifted the pillow up, slipping his cock into the pillow cover.

ミ❣️He wasn't done yet, your pussy would be twitching, eager to take his cock. You eyes would be begging him to fuck you into the mattress.

ミ❣️"Gonna fuck my princess dumb." He muttered out to nobody as he thrusted upwards into the pillow. His thrusts were shameless and aggressive as he pounded his pillow like a dog in heat.

ミ❣️His moans were loud as he muttered filthy things about you.

ミ❣️He would slip his cock into you, kissing away the tears from your eyes.

ミ❣️His cock was just too big, his dumb baby couldn't take it. The stretch hurt. Daddy made it fit though. Daddy will make you feel so good. Pretty girl.

ミ❣️He'd let you adjust waiting for you to give him the okay, he would start of slow, giving you small thrusts to get you used to the size of him. Deep passionate thrusts that said how much he loved you.

ミ❣️You would have the most beautiful moans and whines, he could listen to them all day. He would kiss you and your body till it bruised.

ミ❣️You'd beg him to fuck you, he would do just that. Slamming his hips into yours causing you to scream out his nickname, one of his hands would be on your thigh squeezing it oh so tight getting a good grip for when he pulls his cock out and slams your bodies into each other, fucking you senseless. While the other kept your mouth busy, occasionally taking his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you deeply bruising your lips with his.

He'd watch your every expression.

ミ❣️"Your pussy was made for me, look how well you're taking it. Doing so good"

ミ❣️Your eyes would cross as your tongue rolled out, you'd pants and beg for him to slow down. You didn't really want that, no, not when he was making you feel this good. The way you would arch your back, grind your hips into his, wrap your arms around his neck and grip his hair as you moaned louder with each thrust told him everything he needed to know.

ミ❣️You wanted more, you're greedy aren't you?

ミ❣️"My pretty little cocksleeve"

ミ❣️Chifuyu felt himself getting closer to his high, but he wanted to cum with you.

ミ❣️No, you weren't here.

ミ❣️His hand would make it to your clit giving it a soft slap before his thumb rubbed it in circles. You'd start cursing because of how good it felt. Telling him you wanted more, how you were about to cum, how much you wanted him to cum in you.

ミ❣️You would adore it, he knows it. You'd be such a cum hungry slut for him, no matter when or where you'd want him to cum in your tight pussy.

ミ❣️"Fuck, fuck— so good, Y/n— yer' pussy so good" Chifuyu cursed out as he imagined you creaming his cock the same time as he slammed his dick in you once more before spraying your insides white with his cum. Your body would shake as you had your final orgasm feeling so full.

ミ❣️"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!" Chifuyu cursed out realizing what he just did, he felt a wave of guilt as he felt his dick go limp after fucking his pillow to the thought of you like a madman.

ミ❣️He rushed into the shower, almost falling off his bed in a panic mode. He tried to wash it off, tried to wash off the sin of moaning your name while he fucked his pillow like some highschool horn dog.

ミ❣️He hoped you'd forgive him, he prayed you would.. You couldn't ever find out what he did, you'd label him as a pervert.

ミ❣️Maybe he was one.

ミ❣️He couldn't look himself in the mirror, too ashamed to face himself.

ミ❣️Chifuyu threw the pillow away before curling back in bed chanting soft apologies to nobody. He'd wrap his body in his blanket nuzzling his face back into your scarf as he drifting off final able to sleep.

ミ❣️The next morning you didn't understand why Chifuyu refused to make eye contact with you...

It was supposed to be a short drabble.... 500 works max 🤧🔫 anywaysssss

@baji-kuns hope you liked it 🙄 #Chifuyu'sAHoe

[littlefreya]

Bark at the Moon

Summary: Walter always comes to you when he needs a hard release. Tonight he seems to need it more than ever.

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Female Reader 

Word count: 2K (WTF it was supposed to be a drabble)

Warnings: 18+, sex, lycanthropy, supernatural themes, no strings attached, vaginal fingering, oral performed on female, primal play (slight biting and scratching), cockwarming, slight denial, angst, fluff and romance.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: Not me naming my AUs after Ozzy Osbourne songs/albums. Following my post from October I am trying to follow up. This one-shot is also inspired by A Company of Wolves and @fishcustardandclintbarton​ moodboard. Many thanks to my beta and muse and dear friend @agniavateira​ for all the help. 

Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed 🖤

Title: Bark at the Moon

Muddy Timberlands dragged across the worn doormat as the large detective sought to rid himself of the dirt caking his soles. Black and soft, the dark mane of curls hung loosely above his forehead, a pale blue sheen cascading over each ringlet that concealed his face while he kicked his feet like an unruly child.

An instinct within pressed you to reach a wandering hand and entwine your fingers between those healthy locks. But ironically, touching Walter screamed ‘taboo,’ as if he wasn't going to finish wet and messy inside you anyway. 

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been here. 

"Rough evening?" you murmured, taking a long whiff of air. Traces of coffee drifted from his breath, mingling with the brisk November chill that wafted over your face.  

It's not that you didn't enjoy his company; it's just that Walter left you with nothing but bitemarks, bruises, and dirty sheets. A foreigner to this country even after all these years, Walter was much like the salty rocks from the islands that bred him: hardened and crude, yet smooth at the edge where the water licked the stone. Some evenings he wouldn't even speak; the moment his boots made it past the doorway, all civilised manners flew out the window, luring the beast to wander. Shredding your outfit, he’d fuck you to tears, shaking you the way a canine carnivore stuns its prey and then unload himself into you until you ached and begged him to stop.

Once stripped off his uniform, the sullen cop was no different than the deviants he shoved behind iron bars. Little did it matter, you loved him enough for the two of you, and though you knew you were a toy to pass the time, he always crawled back to you with that deprived agonised sparkle staining his gaze. 

After what seemed like an endless battle between his shoes and the bristly rug, he finally paused and slowly lifted his chin. Marine-blue irises peered below thick brows, and a red rim of weariness perfected his customary scowl. 

"Yeah," he drawled with indifference, "got any beer?"  

Observing him for a moment, you studied the sharp ridges of his furrowed brow and nodded, turning to let him in. Despite his heavy frame, he followed with lithe stillness, stepping into your house without making a sound while you advanced to the kitchen. 

Whatever happened tonight must have left another dent in the coarse material that made this man. You often mused on the things he must have seen and found out it’s better not to ask. 

You reached for the fridge when his arm wrapped around your waist by surprise and snatched you back, hauling you flushed against his broad chest. Briefly, he nuzzled your nape, his parted lips huffing hot against your skin. His breath carried the pained melody of a sad longing animal, an ache so great it seeped through the pores of your skin and infected you with his grief. 

You weren’t afraid of the beast but felt sorry for it.

“I need to feel you,” Walter rasped, a timbre of plea in his baritone. Palm swiping greedily at your breast and his cock hard and hungry, he ground his hips at the cleft of your ass. Like the black, shaggy dog that he was, he sniffed the air and then rubbed himself further against your jeans, seducing the wanton animal within you to come out of its hiding. 

“You want me too, I can smell it, I can smell your cunt.” 

Where was the lie?

With a guttural growl, he turned you to face him, skilful hands already making tatters of your clothes and his fangs nipping your throat. Caged in his grasp, you hissed and shuddered out of fear and lust. A part of you was always frightened that one night Walter will pierce an artery by mistake at the heat of the moment whilst another, more archaic urge, called for the sweet passion that was your Thanatos.

Succumbing to both urges, you forced his cable-knit sweater off, exposing his muscular, beefy torso and splaying your hands down his flexing pecs to feel the soft, dark fur that covered his chest and belly. Everything about Walter was large and charged with virility, twisting your moral compass and making any argument weak in his presence. Staring at the bulge in his trousers, you gnawed your bottom lip, giving to the pang of hunger that shot through your clenching core while your wicked fingers began to fumble with the clasp of his belt. 

With a low roar rumbling in his chest, he scrutinised you as if this was a trial, his eyes flashing, anticipating you to reach and grab his large cock. 

“Fuck…” his sonorous voice caressed your ears. He quickly slid his hand down your trousers, grabbing a handful of your ass before gliding his fingers to feel between your engorged petals. 

A tempest of moans unfurled from your clenching throats once you squeezed his shaft in your palm, choking around the veins adorning the meaty girth.

“You are always so wet for me, always so ready,” he uttered and licked your cheek. 

“Walter, please!” 

At your plea, his fingers slipped deep inside your burning cavern. Back and forth, he probed your little slit, spreading thick wetness across your mound and further up your virginal ass to taunt you. 

Before you met Walter you vowed that you’ll never be into that kind of debauchery. But whenever the bulbous crown of his cock accidentally teased your puckered hole, the only thing you could muster to think of was how much you wanted him to fill every empty inch within you.  

Long, nimble fingers dug deep, parting your sealed walls asunder in an endeavour to find the small heap of pleasure that regressed you to savagery. You were nothing but an instrument of pleasure, gyrating to the melody he composed by the rhythm of his thrusts, following every note. He made you shudder, made the earth below split in half and all the while, he held back and watched. A sick mist of curiosity hovered over the frigid ocean that was his glance, mindful of how logic and reason drained from your face, leaving you utterly incoherent and primal. 

Just as he was.

He crooned at your whimpers and nodded at the desperation dripping from your gaze. Hips swaying, you wriggled against his hand in a frustrated attempt to reach for the tendrils of ecstasy that loomed inches from your grasp.

“You want to come, love?” he asked, almost patronising. His brow lifted, and his eyes flared with what you could only describe as pity.

“Yes! Please! Please make me come!” 

His fingers tore from your sleek with a sudden haul, leaving you a trembling, outraged mess. Yet you had no time to curse him for denying your pleasure. Moving faster than your thoughts, Walter stripped your trousers and slammed you rear onto the counter. Kneeling between your spread legs, his strong hands gripped your thighs and dragged your cunt into his bearded jaw.

“Fuck!” 

His mouth wrapped around you in a lover’s embrace, his silky tongue plunging between your lips to savour the honeyed nectar that dripped from your tightening core. Thoroughly devouring your cunt, Walter hummed. Raw, unfiltered, and unbound, he laved every inch within as if he was dining at Olympus and feasting on ambrosia for the first time. Arching back, you dared to entangle your fingers in his curls and ride his bristly face until you succumbed to the furious, quaking bliss that spasmed within your womb and consumed you into rapturous euphoria. 

Engulfed in a veil of blissful darkness, you continued wailing, heaving, and slumping on the counter. Puny jitters of aftershock trod upon your throbbing flesh while Walter finished his feast with languid laps of his tongue.

Once you blinked your eyes open, Walter stood straight between your legs, now fully naked, peering at you quietly. His eyes were aglow with all the conundrums he could never speak. Still hazy from your ecstasy, you stared back with awe, drinking each taut bulging muscle and worshipping the feral, beastlike entity that he was. Not even the scars on his body could steal away his unspoken pride. 

Reaching a hand for his imposing cock, he crept closer and glared straight into your soul as he pressed himself into your tight little entrance. A loud groan thundered through your kitchen as he pushed in, erupting into the most melodic war cry which never failed to astound you once he penetrated you. Still clenched from your orgasm, you gritted your teeth and whimpered in pain, not quite ready to have all of him at once. Yet Walter wasn’t keen on stopping and continued delving deeper and deeper, despite your nails tearing fresh new trails of blood down his shoulders.

“Wait!” you pleaded, yelping when he suddenly bottomed out inside you.

An arduous gasp tore from his lips, and his forehead dropped on your shoulder. Stilling inside you, he breathed in the mien of a wild creature, trying to regain his composure for a brief moment as he timed his assault. Fingers etched below your thighs, he pulled you up with ease and carried you through the apartment whilst still buried inside you.

Confused by his actions, you hung your arms around his thick neck and clung to his body, welcoming the soft brush of his hide against your naked breasts. 

Soon, you found yourself on your bed with him seated beneath you while your legs enveloped his wide waist. Nestled between your cinching walls, his cock throbbed full of rage, desperate for the unbridled friction that Walter forbade as he refused to move. Milking every drop of his self-control, he vigorously fought to dominate his desire. 

With his shaft pulsating hot and buried completely within your womb, your previous orgasm felt like a distant dream and a fresh new need soon awoke, begging your body to writhe on top of him and take what you were promised by force. But Walter was in no rush to unmake any part of you just yet. Securing one arm around the small of your back while the other held your jaw, he made you stare directly into his eyes. 

Bare more than ever, he allowed you to glimpse through the cracks that creased his beautiful blue eyes, showing you the pure terror harbouring the heart of darkness that lived within him. 

Perhaps, a part of him desired you to break and cast him away from you, to say ‘nevermore.’

Mercy softened your face instead. 

Enamoured and embroiled with curiosity, you allowed yourself to roam freely, gliding both your eyes and fingertips to descend the delectable plains of his body. Tender and careful, you stroked a soothing touch over the elevated scar tissue the way one pets a wounded creature, your gentle caress painting over the large claw mark that marked him years ago and left him cursed.

Walter followed the movement of your hand. His chest sinking with a low roar, his cock twitched and swelled inside your protesting canal while he remained immobilised and kept himself sheltered in the warmth of your sanctuary.

“Last night,” he finally spoke, his voice soft yet drenched with hesitation while his eyes dropped to stare into nothing for a shy moment. “Last night, when I turned... I… killed someone…” 

Your heart clenched in anguish along with the seams of your cunt. All the hurt that flowed in Walter’s blood now mingled into yours, ascending your body from the spot where you were coupled. 

What you wanted most of all was not to run. No. You desired to suck the poison tainting his veins and swallow it instead, unable to bring yourself to do anything but love him more than you did earlier. 

Spreading your legs further to each side of his hips, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him. Nails biting into his muscular back you clutched him tightly, making a firm statement of your unwillingness to spite him for his actions. 

Because, even a beast needs to be protected and cared for. 

* Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall * Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

[stratiotis-nth]

The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so…rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

[bibliocratic]

clear the area jonmartin, post-MAG200 content warnings in the tags

They earn their ending. A happy-ever-after beyond the gaze of any eyes.

Jon endures his abdication. This world has no Archivists, has need of none, the thankless crown of Knowing finally unburdened from his shoulders. The blood washes off Martin’s hands with soap and scrubbing and scalding water. They live.

The end. In conclusion. Fin.

-

Jon’s new scar, the packaging of his skin split ragged from collarbone to sternum, fades like sun-caught paint. A maw of red pursing to a gummy primrose pink, settling into a rough cartography of white.

The first few months are hard. Brimstone flare-up silences and ice-pick shouting, open-handed forgiveness and closed-fist weeping. They drain themselves to husks with anger and worry and grief until there is enough space for better things to grow there in their stead. Jon’s nightmares were a nightly stormfront to bear, sweated sheets and dawn fanfares of panic and dread, but he is learning now, with the space for his ribs to expand, that it is ok for them to breathe here.

Jon digs up the garden with a rusty trowel until it is a bumpy canvas of mulch and soil, dirt tucked under his fingernails and decorated with smudges up to his elbows. He hums while he irons their shirts in front of the television, thoughtless and senseless with tune.

Martin has tried to, but the sound goes down the wrong way.

-

Martin is happy.

-

It isn’t the sight as such, that might sit as a film over his vision to tinge his waking sepia. The reddest thing they own is a terracotta plant plot brimming with raggedy thyme that lives a precarious cliff-top existence on the kitchen windowsill. He observes Jon’s face in all its variations, even pained – when he snags splinters in his fingers, when he stubs his toe on the stone front step and swears damnation – and his response is sympathy tempered by admonishment.

It’s not the sensation, not really, that might tremble on his skin. Martin’s palms tend to dryness inside their homely bubble of creaky central heating, hemmed in by boisterous coastal winds. He handles bread knives and butter knives and steak knives and carving knives without the muscle memory of other blades, and he thinks he might be getting pretty handy with his oven experimentation.

It’s the sound. It wakes him, the noise lingering like the echo of a slap.

The slick punch of metal into muscle. A tooth-bared, tense-jawed gasp.

Resurfacing to shocked consciousness, he would be seized by a frenzy, to know, to check. His scattering hand scrabbling for the lamp with such force he hit it off the nightstand to roll in a giddy clatter, throwing off the covers to rapidly pollute both of them with the outside air. Jon would be rocked from sleep, groggy, panicked, and Martin’s words would not come, a train of thought trying to race full steam where no one had laid tracks, so it would be just the two of them, exhausted and upset and amping the other up in misery.

Now, upon his rousing, Martin knows not to turn on the light. He does not check. The aftermath of punch-gasp curls in his ear, and he inhale-exhale-inhales with the ferocity of mantra, and clamps the threatened tears in the clench of his teeth.

He does not wake Jon.

-

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh, you know me. Like a log.”

-

He is happy. He is. Why wouldn’t he be?

--

Jon rumbles like a rusty mechanism with snoring whenever he drops off on his back, and he mumbles accusatory when Martin coaxes him to his side. Martin finds black hairs on his pillowcase, in the shower plug. Jon is a vista of experience since the Eye left him, who gets hungry and tired and grumpy and drunk and silly and fed-up and giggly. Jon searches him out with the surety of magnets, and loves him, loves him, loves him. He seals kisses to Martin’s new landscape of extensive scars. Their disagreements, when they surface, are as meaningful and lasting as stones skipped on water.

Martin wanted this. He wants this. The rhythms of domesticity fading to foam on an untroubled shore.

He is out of practise with happiness, that’s all. It doesn’t come to him like breathing. He needs to till the earth of it, shelter its seeds from a thousand circling crows until it bears harvest.

He just has to try harder.

-

Night-time.

An episode or two of something simple, Jon nodding off like a capsizing ship before the credits. Encouraging him up in grousing, unwilling increments, rubbing out the nettle sting of pins and needles up his own arm. Check the locks, the light switches. Brush teeth. Pyjamas. Put his phone to charge, read until Jon succumbs to sleep. Click the light off, pushing Jon onto his side so his mouth doesn’t dry. Jon squirming around like a fastidious octopus until he has at least half his limbs hooked over Martin.

The dark creating shadow play. In the absence, Martin colouring in the gaps with lurid shades of disaster.

A creak – the rattle of a door downstairs, an intruder unfastening the back door, transferring their weight upon the staircase. A unfamiliar scent – the recollection of smoke-stench in his nostrils, the acrid promise of gas, the ferrous pungency of blood. The rain will flood their house to drown them. The wind will blow their roof in. Jon hooks his leg around Martin, the skin void of hair where Daisy’s mouth had almost torn it off, and all he can envision is the ways this could be destroyed as he watches.

Bundle Jon close. Ignore the rain, the itch at the bottom of his stomach, the queasy roil of his fear. Drift into unkind sleep populated with its garden of earthly terrors.

-

Martin is… not happy. Not exactly. And that’s fine. It’s fine.

-

Jon is happy.

-

Jon, rubbing at the compression lines around his hips, the accusatory splay of the top button refusing to budge closed:

“I can’t fit into my jeans.”

Martin enfolds him from behind, planting his palms over the slight paunch of Jon’s stomach, filled out through sensible eating and small indulgences and a hunger that will never be ravenous but has restored its human qualities.

“Hmm. It’s a good look on you. Healthier.”

“Or it’s middle age.”

“Or it’s eating things that aren’t tea and meal-deal sandwiches.”

“Or other people’s terror.”

“Oh yes, you’re right, I completely forgot about your subsistence diet of eldritch and unbidden horrors in a luscious wholegrain wrap, forgive me.”

Jon laughs at that. The sound has not yet lost its novelty for either of them.

He shifts, turns, his arms a buoy around Martin’s stomach.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Must be all the clean air,” Martin quips. “All that healthy living.”

-

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

When his heart has wound down from the pace of its gallop, he extricates himself from Jon’s grip. It is a laborious task to find the places where they’ve joined in the night and pull them apart, like separating fabric snagged on rosebushes.

He gets some water from the cold tap in the kitchen. Sits heavily on the sofa, the room cossetted by the gloom.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

His hands shake.

He doesn’t go back to bed.

-

He isn’t happy, but he could grow to be. He could. He could. He just isn’t trying hard enough.

-

Some days, he feels like he’s waiting for the ice to give under them.

Check the passers-by as they walk. Anyone familiar, any teeth filed too sharp, anything animal or blood-shot, any eyes that glance too deep.

Check the oven. The gas knobs are angled to off but a leak is not impossible in a house this old, their alarm might malfunction, they might fall asleep and some spark from a plug socket could catch and incite a conflagration.  

Check the window latches. The opening wide enough for a body to squirm through, the claws of a Hunter marring the sill. Wriggling infestations that invade through the letter box, the keyhole, the gap under the door where the wind can whistle through.

Check. Check. Check.

-

Jon is happy. Jon has a job, work friends, a hundred small luxuries that he has struggled to earn. Jon is happy, so why can’t he be? He went through so much less, the blood washed off easily with soap, what the fuck does he have to cry over –

-

Martin has always crafted his masks from scrap, tongue out in concentration, piecing things together in low light, a make-do-and-mend of his own devising. His early efforts, the paper mâché and glue easily cracked before he learned to shore up his constructions. He has a small collection garnered over years.

The quiet-voiced, muffled-stepped, muted-smiled creation of a Good Son.

The zipped-mouth, no-refusals-no-complaints-yes-of-course-how-high earnestness of the Good Employee, the desperation sanded off the edges so no one could see.

The I’ll-get-the-first-round friendliness, the open-handed, open-hearted, too-naïve Good Colleague.

This new mask forms in increments, in the same way a rising mound of dirt marks the extent of a grave being dug.

He doesn’t mean to. It’s just he’s better at not talking about things. He always has been. And it is an ugly, easy comfort, to slip back into bad habits.

And Jon is happy.

All the things Martin does not wish to permit the light to touch he compresses inside like shaken soda. The rot in him deepens structural, the places where he papers over moulds and fungal speckles with the distraction of their new life. His smile parades simple, contented, cheeky, teasing, and there is a meticulous artistry in each. He sketches interest, paints joy, manufactures irritation out of the clay of nothingness that he allows himself to feel instead of the overwhelming rush of everything else.

I love you, his mouth murmurs, laughs, sighs, groans, and that at least is always true.

The mask of a Good Partner slips on tailor-made.

-

They find their nine-to-fives. Jon’s job is uneventful, boring, and nowhere near an Archive. He works in a registry office for the council, filing and organising and he’s cheerfully lied on his CV in order to get it. He gets the bus and texts Martin grumpy faces and GIFs summarising his mood when he gets suck in the commute or some idiot parks in a bus lane, he has a couple of colleagues he likes and a greater number that he tolerates, he gets a hot chocolate from this universe’s overpriced multinational chain on his lunch hour. When he gets home, he complains with delight at the mundanity of his dissatisfactions, regales Martin with tales of meagre drama.

Martin gets a cleaning job at a school. It is monotonous, dull and safe. Martin loses track of the time easily, quagmired in his musings. The children are wary of him and his visible scarring but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. The teachers are friendly enough, as well as the other cleaning staff, but he does not make friends. They’ll have to move anyway, if anything finds them here, if the Fears emerge again.

Martin tries not to feel like he’s waiting.

-

He wants to have a good night’s sleep.

-

“I’ll have breakfast at the school, don’t worry.”

“There were some leftovers from the canteen, so I’m kind of full.”

“It was one of the teacher’s birthdays, you know, Denise? Heh, might have had a bit too much cake. I’ll pop this in the fridge for later though, it’ll keep till tomorrow.”

“I’m just not that hungry tonight, Jon.”

-

He feels sharper when he doesn’t eat. It is uncomfortable, a scratched-out, hollowing sensation, but things focus more. He can control nothing else but this, and it feels good, to have this mastery over himself when so much is beyond him.

He drops down notches on his belt and tells Jon it’s all the walking he’s doing.

-

The world continues to happen to them. He goes to the cinema with Jon and picks at popcorn and encourages Jon’s outraged opinion. He meets Jon’s mildly interesting work friends and plays nice and excels at small talk, and he drinks half a cider that he nurses over the evening because it’s making his head fuggy. His body communicates its sharpness to him and he gains grim satisfaction from ignoring it. He goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep and goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep.

Martin does his best at living, and his mask doesn’t slip.

-

“You seem tired,” Jon pries his words out carefully, picking them out of his teeth as one would scraps. “Is… is everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure it is. Why?”

“…  you seem a bit down today. Recently. Is anything… is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I’ve just been working too hard. Been a while since I had to do double-shifts, heh, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you’re sure?”

Jon shifts to a different position where he’s sat on the sofa, his legs tucking up under him. Martin endures his questioning gaze with practise.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

Martin delivers a hand-crafted smile that’s gilded heavily with guilelessness and reassurance. He watches as Jon believes him and hates himself.

-

“You know… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can – you know you can talk to me, Martin?”

Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s chest at the point where a knife once sunk in, and doesn’t reply.

-

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

Jon has twisted over onto his back again, rattling like a chain-smoker’s cough with his snoring. They were quiet that evening, tangled up in their own thoughts, but there is none of that distance in sleep. During the night, Jon’s wormed himself out of the covers with a single-minded determination, his restless legs squashing the duvet to the bottom of the bed on his side, encouraging Martin’s to follow suit.

He’s shirtless, his top chucked off to pile unceremoniously on the floor. The temperature is ripe with a burgeoning summer heat, and Jon tosses and complains if he’s overwarm, and Martin didn’t think he’d get to feel the drudgery of another lived summer. He’s shirtless, and the room is palled in sweltering dark that softens the vague shapes of the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the knickknacks of the life they’re building together. He’s shirtless, and Martin cannot see where the scar is, the only scar of Jon’s he has ever thought ugly, but he knows it is there. That he put it there. That he could just as easily be waking up alone.

His body pains him to live in it. His stomach tight and bottomed out empty.

He is so so tired.

Martin’s heartbeat does not slow down. His chest constricting, and he swallows, a sharp sound hiccupping in his throat. He stifles it with a forceful sniff but more come as a painful spasming wave, and he has to sit up if any air is to dribble into his lungs.

He should get up. He has to get up, do this in the bathroom, doubled-over the sink, stifling his weakness where it cannot be witnessed. He cannot do this here.

Punch. Gasp.

His burning face is soaked as he bunches up his sleeves against his reddening eyes. A calming exhale drains out shaky, moulds itself into another loud sob. He plants his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes closed, and this will pass, he’s fine, this will pass…

“Martin?”

I’m sorry to wake you, he thinks to say. It’s nothing, go back to sleep, stop looking at me Jon, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, it’s nothing…

His shoulders start to shake.

“Martin?” Jon repeats slowly. And the ice creaks and cracks and Martin gasps and then it breaks, and the force of his damned-up grief is tidal, catastrophic and he sobs into his hands.

“It’s… it’s alright – it’s… it was a nightmare, that’s all, ‘s alright…”

“It’s not!” Martin bubbles out, the words mashed to a wail in his hands. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll ruin this…”

“Hey.” Jon brings his arm around Martin and he buries his head in the bony crook of his shoulder because he does not want to meet Jon’s eyes. “What do you mean? Martin?”

Jon rubs at his back. Martin’s body betrays him in a hundred ways as it collapses around him. His weeping wrings him out, dry-mouthed and headachy and trembling when he subsides into shivery breaths.

“Talk to me,” Jon says. “Please.”

“You’re so happy,” Martin sniffs out. “I-I want you to be happy, god, o-of course I do. Things are, they’re good, they’re good and we won, s-s-so why does it feel like I’m still holding my breath? I-I go to bed and I’m frightened of every noise, and I wake up and I’m terrified that someone somehow could take this all away, and I can’t sleep, and I-I’m tired, Jon, I’m tired of holding my breath, and it’s all – it’s all so much a-a-a-and I can’t – ”

“Oh, Martin – ”

His words fail him then. Jon holds him up and his arms do not loosen.

“We-we’re going to fix this,” Jon says after a long while. “I promise you, together, we’ll – we’ll talk to someone. You aren’t alone in this. Together, alright, we’ll do this together. We’ve survived – everything else, we can get through this too.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Martin says, too drained to avoid honesty.

“…Maybe not yet,” Jon says after a pause. “That’s OK. I can wait.”

I’m sorry, Martin attempts to say but Jon presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jon says. He strokes Martin’s sweat-soaked hair.

“… Can we talk? Tomorrow? You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I’d like to be there for you, if you want me. If you’ll let me.”

Martin nods because he doesn’t trust his gummed-up throat. Jon takes that as an answer.

Dawn comes in slowly enough but they see it in together.

[helliontherapscallion]

Magnum Opus (Adrenaline Junkie Part 7)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2,451

(A/N): our dear little (y/n) needed a break from the angst, so I gave them one : )

You were finally done with the prototype for your prosthetic. It took blood, sweat, and tears and hours upon hours to get the measurements precisely right, but you were finally done. You were one step closer to freedom and you were ecstatic. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

Sprinting up the stairs with your pride and joy closed and wrapped in a sheet, you made a beeline for the front door passing Philza in the process. You heard him ask you something, but you were already darting past him through the door and outside. Before long, you were at the top of the cliff you designated as your test site. 

The cliff was perfect for gliding. It towered over the ground at a perfect height for you to gain air resistance in time and overlooked a vast, empty field that stretched as far as the eye could see. A few herds of chickens and cows were scattered here and there, but if you were careful you could probably steer away. Probably. If you hit a cow, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? 

Sliding on the prosthetic was a little bit of a struggle. You had to awkwardly twist your body around and uncomfortably reach for your upper back to fasten the leather belts securely around your nub, but you would get faster at it once you put it on more. Smiling in satisfaction when it was on, you tested out the abduction and adduction capabilities of the iron joints by pulling on the string you attached to the ends of each joint. The wing opened and closed with ease.

Now, the only thing you had to test out was if it worked or not. You backed up to the point of the cliff where it started to slope down and took a few deep breaths. Here goes nothing.

You broke into a sprint towards the edge of the cliff. The precipice was coming nearer and nearer, there’s no backing out now, you had to follow through if you wanted a successful flight. If you killed yourself in the name of innovation, then so be it. 

When you bunched up the muscles in your legs to jump out as far as you could, you pulled the rope that extends your wing and firmly pulled it taut. You wobbled in the air slightly before you stabilized yourself. The air was flowing freely past you as you glide through the warm summer air. 

You started to laugh loudly in triumph as you soared through the air. For the first time in almost one and a half years, you felt truly free. You felt infinite even like nothing could drag you down. Time around you seemed to slow down as you relished the feeling of freedom and being emancipated from your life on the ground. The warm air rustling through the base of your feathers on your left wing felt like heaven. 

Unfortunately, what goes up must come down. You were getting closer and closer to the ground, so you had to land. You extended your legs under you and your feet made contact with the grass below you. Your momentum made you take a few swift steps forward, but overall, you landed safely. 

Cackling, you jumped up and down in place and repeatedly punched the air. Your wing fluttered happily rustling the strands of grass around you with strong gusts of air.

“YES YES YES YES I FUCKING DID IT!”

“I’M BRILLIANT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

The nearby herds of animals scurried away from you, their peaceful grazing interrupted by your excited shouting. Normally you would’ve felt bad for them, but you didn’t care; your invention worked! You had to show your family, they had to see this.

Philza was startled by the front door bursting open and banging against the wall. Your loud voice booming through the silence of the house. There goes his quiet day.

“DAADDDDD, WILBUR, TECHNO, TOMMY COME HERE I FUCKING DID IT! I! FUCKING! FIGURED! IT! OUUUUTTTT!”

You heard footsteps running towards you as Philza ran down the hallways and into your field of vision. His startled wide eyes scanned your form. Your face was split in a wide grin and your eyes were impossibly wide as they regarded him. Your entire body was practically vibrating like you were barely keeping your excitement and elation at bay. Your wing was flittering rapidly behind you.

But what caught his eye was the leather attached to your back where your other wing was supposed to be. It was the exact same size as your left wing.

“I-Is that…?”

You giggled uncontrollably in glee. “Yes! Oh, I need to show you how it works!”

You grabbed his hand and drug him to the couch with a surprising amount of strength. Plopping him down, you began spewing and gesturing wildly towards your newest invention.

“Ok ok ok, so this is just a prototype of course, but I was inspired by a bat’s wings with the leather and the general structure. I made the joints and the structural support rods out of thin iron so that it doesn’t weigh it down or make any drag. I can open and close it with this,” you pulled the rope and the wing opened, “and I have a hole for my wing to go into and it’s secured by belts and it even lets me glide and ohmygoddadisntitamazing?”

Philza looked at you with disbelief as you rattled on about how your invention works. How exactly did you make this without him noticing that you were making it? Where did you learn how to work with leather? When you were done, he looked at you with a smile.

“It’s fantastic hun. But how do you know that it lets you glide?”

You paused and gave him a sheepish smile. “About that… I may have, kinda… sorta, jumpedoffacliff.”

“You what? Do you understand how dangerous that was?”

You felt a burning anger flare up from deep inside of you. You just found out that you could somewhat fly again and he has the audacity to not care. “Yes, but how was I supposed to know if it worked or not? It’s not like I have anyone with the same sized wing as I do. The measurements had to be exact. One wrong measurement would make you crash! But that’s not the important part, I can fly again! Don’t you care about that?”

His eyes softened. “Of course I do, (y/n). It’s amazing that you can fly again but I’m just worried about how you tested it out. What if it didn’t work? You could’ve died again, (y/n).”

You felt your eye twitch. “Dad, life is all about risk. If you don’t take a risk every now and then, you’re just… standing still! What kind of life is that?”

He held your heated glare with sad, desperate eyes. “I… I just can’t lose you again, (y/n). Promise me that I won’t lose you again. That you won’t do reckless things like this anymore.”

Oh.

You let your stance relax and your left wing tucked itself back in. Walking over to him, you sat next to him, wrapping your left wing around him in an awkward kind of side hug. Fiddling with your thumbs, you replied softly. “You aren’t going to lose me again anytime soon, that I can promise you, but I can’t promise that I won’t do reckless things. Like I said, life is all about risks. You have to take them if you wanna move on. I wanna move on with my life, I’m sick of being stuck in one place.”

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly as he sighed. There was no convincing you when you were like this. He’s learned that trying to steer you in another direction is like Sisyphus finally reaching the top of the mountain only to have the massive stone roll back down again. Getting you to agree was something that went against your motives just wasn’t going to happen. 

“...Do you want to move out?”

“What? Nonononono, I don’t want to move out yet. I just meant that I was tired of not moving on with life after that thing took my wing.”

He gave a watery chuckle. “Good, I wouldn’t have anybody to make me breakfast in the mornings or split wood with me if you moved out.” 

He twisted his upper body towards you and pulled you into a warm hug. “I’m not leaving anytime soon. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

You two stayed like that for a while before he pulled back and gestured for you to turn around. You obliged and he got a closer look at your prosthetic, opening and closing it with the rope.

“...This is just a prototype. I’m still trying to figure out a way to automatically move the wing without having to pull the rope.”

He hummed in thought. “Have you thought about using redstone?”

“Yeah, but everything’s just too… bulky. I might have to make a tiny sensor so that it receives impulses from my muscles and moves when I want it to. That’s gonna take me a long time.”

“I’m sure that you’ll figure it out soon, you’re creative. Probably the most innovative of your generation… I’m proud of you, ya know. You’ve grown up and overcome so much in such a short amount of time.” He said genuinely.

You felt your face heat up and a small smile shaped your lips. You loved it when people praised you for your achievements, especially your dad. It warmed your heart to hear that he’s still proud of you, even if you’re almost an adult now. 

He clapped a hand on your shoulder and started to walk to the door.

“...Where are you going?”

He looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “We are gonna go find your brothers so we can show them how amazing you are.”

Your eyes lit up and your previous excitement returned tenfold. Laughing boisterously, you grabbed his hand and started sprinting, dragging him behind you. He laughed with you as he kept up with you with ease. 

You two ran until you hit the forest where Tommy was with Tubbo at the goat hybrid’s bee farm. They looked at you with alarm as you both almost crashed into one of the hives. Bees buzzed around peacefully, completely contradicting the energy you and Philza had. 

“Tommy, Tubbo, you have to follow us!”

They glanced at each other. “Why-”

You shushed them. “No questions! I have something to show you!”

You turned on your heel and started to sprint towards the woods where you can hear the soft strumming of a guitar. 

“WIILLBURRRRR”

His head poked out from behind a large tree trunk. “What could you possibly want? I’m practicing.”

“No time to explain, follow me.”

You once again ran away towards the shooting range Techno was in. Currently, he was working on his aim with a crossbow. 

“Techno!”

He jumped and accidentally pressed the trigger, making the arrow completely miss the target by several feet. He lightly glared at you. “(Y/n), don’t do that. I could’ve sho-”

“Sorry Tech, but you’re coming with me. I have something to show you.”

Like you did with Tommy and Wilbur, you darted off without letting him respond. In no time, you and your family reached the cliff. At the top, you turned towards them with a slightly crazed grin and sparkling eyes. They looked extremely confused as to why they were up there.

“I bet you’re all wondering why I’ve brought you here today. Well boys, I present to you,” you paused for dramatic effect, “my magnum opus!”

You yanked the rope and your leather wing extended with a glorious fwoosh. You watched as their jaws dropped and they looked at you with differing expressions. Philza looked at you with beaming pride, Techno and Wilbur looked at you with complete surprise, Tubbo smiled widely at you, and Tommy was speechless.

Grinning wider, you pointed out all the intricacies of your invention. They all listened attentively, absorbing every single detail you explained. They were fascinated with the idea of using prosthetics. 

You smirked. “Now, I’m sure you all would like a live demonstration. Step aside.”

You turned around and started walking towards where you started your take off earlier. You steeled your nerves and broke into a sprint. Once again jumping off the cliff and pulling your wing open, you heard your family gasp as you wobbled in the air slightly before you steadied yourself and began gliding. Their horrified gasps and shouts quickly turned into cheering as you glided away from them. 

As you were midair, you heard the flutter of feathers behind you as Philza appeared in your peripheral vision. He was grinning widely at you as his giant wings flapped to keep him next to you. You grinned back and in that moment, everything felt right. You would always have your family to support you.

You landed safely on the ground with a few steps and Philza followed suit, pulling you into a soft winged hug. You squeezed him back with vigor.

“(Y/n),” he whispered. “I am so, so proud of you, my little inventor.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as you hugged him tighter. You could hear your brothers and Tubbo (whom you considered your pseudo brother at this point with how often he hangs around the house) running towards you two. It would be a minute or two until they reached you. Until then, you just wanted to stay in your dad’s loving embrace. 

“OI DAD DON’T HOG THEM!”

You were ripped away from Philza’s comforting embrace and pulled into Tommy’s chest. He squeezed you in a bone crushing hug and started to spin you around.

“(Y/N) THAT WAS SO FUCKING COOL! THE WAY YOU FLEW WITHOUT BOTH WINGS HOLY SHIT THAT WAS POG!”

He let you go and you were given a congratulatory pat on the back and wide smile from Tubbo, who wasn’t quite accustomed to you yet. Techno smiled at you with pride and rustled your hair and Wilbur swung his arm around your shoulders, leading you back towards the house. “Well, I say this calls for a celebration.”

The feathers on your wing fluffed up proudly at the praise. “I’m down, but first could one of you help me take this off? It hurts after a while of wearing it.”

The rest of the night was illuminated with laughter and joy, the house booming with life. This was another moment where you felt infinite in the universe, surrounded by the people you hold dearest.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado

[bleep-bleep-richie]

part one

part two

He's not panicking.

Just because he knows Eddie had court at 9am and they had plans to talk at lunch, and it's now 7pm and he still hasn't called.

Nope, definitely not panicking.

He isn't pacing the apartment either. No, he's just taking a leisurely stroll back and forth across his living room. There's just nothing good on TV. He isn't panicking, there's no reason to panic.

He had texted him at 1 and, after getting no answer, again at 5. He picks his phone up where he'd thrown it not even five minutes ago face down on the couch. He swipes his way to his messages.

Nothing.

He clicks "💖Edwardo💖" and scrolls through their messages from the last couple days. He sighs and clicks the text box.

Hey, I'm gonna stay up until I hear from you, so call me whenever.

He sends it and throws the phone to the side, collapsing against the back of his sofa. He picks up his laptop, clicks on the video chat app, and stares at the stupid picture Eddie had chosen as his icon. The edge of his mouth lifts in spite of the sick churning in his stomach. "Eddie fucking Kaspbrak," he mumbles with a shake of his head. He's still looking at Eddie's picture when he starts to doze off.

He has no idea how much time has gone by when he's woken up by the sound of a call coming through his computer. His vision's blurry, he pushes his glasses back up on his face, and sees Eddie's smile way too close to the camera. He accepts the call. "What the fuck, man?"

"Richie!" Eddie cries. "Did I wake you? You said you were staying up."

Richie stretches and yawns before picking the laptop up and putting it on his coffee table. "Guess I fell asleep." He narrows his eyes. "Where are you?"

"Out! With Matt!"

Richie wants to ask who the hell Matt is but the camera is on the guy before he gets the chance.

"Look, Matt, it's my boyfriend," he hears Eddie say, "the guy I was telling you about!"

Richie has a moment of disconnect. "Uh," he says cleverly.

Matt leans closer. "Wait, holy shit, you really are Richie Tozier." He grins. "When Eddie said he was dating a celebrity, I didn't believe him."

"Fuck you!"

"Uh, hi?" Richie says. He's still reeling from 'boyfriend' and 'dating.' "Sorry, who are you again?"

Eddie turns the phone back, his face swims into view unsteadily. "My new manager! I hired him last week, he's gonna manage the New York branch when I leave."

"Okay, you're screaming."

"I'm celebrating!" he yells, raising a glass. He knocks it back and drains it to prove his point.

It's loud, Richie can hear the sounds of other people talking and laughing. He guesses they're in a bar. "Can you go outside or something? I can barely hear you."

Eddie's nodding as he gets to his feet. "Shit, yeah, sorry," he says when he swallows. "Matt, I'll be right back."

"Take your time, boss. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tozier!"

Richie makes a face. "Did he just call me Mister Tozier?"

Eddie laughs. He leans against the cool bricks of the building once he gets outside. "Yeah, he's like that."

"So," Richie starts after a beat, "how'd it go?"

"Oh! We found a place!"

"A place?"

"Yeah, an office building," Eddie replies excitedly. "Matt found it on the computer. And! He put up an ad for people to email me their resumes. It was so much easier than I was making it, big shocker there, right."

Richie tilts his head for a second. "That's fantastic, Eds, but what about court?"

"Oh, oh! Richie!" Eddie's smile splits his face. "She signed the papers! She dropped everything she was asking for, a share in the company, all the alimony. She told me on the way out it's because she's already engaged, and all I could think was 'that poor schmuck." He laughs, open and cheerful. Richie doesn't know if he's ever seen him so happy.

"Wow, that's awesome. Congratulations."

Something in his voice must give him away. Eddie's eyes soften and his smile fades. "Oh, Rich, I'm so sorry. I was supposed to call. I was just so excited to get everything done, we worked right through lunch. I'm booking a flight to LA tomorrow. Richie, we're going to he together before the end of the week." His eyes are so bright and happy, Richie wants to drown himself in them.

"That's- Wow, Eds, that's amazing." He pauses. "You're amazing." Eddie's eyes start to water and Richie figures he must be way drunker than he's letting on. "Wait, how are you video chatting from your phone?"

Eddie blinks. "Oh, there's an app for it."

"Yes, I know there's an app for it. How in the hell did you know there was an app for it? The only app you have on your phone is a calculator."

"Matt downloaded it for me. I saw your text and mentioned I needed to call you, so he showed me how to do it."

"That's great," Richie says flatly. "Matt's great."

"Yeah, he really is a whiz at the technology stuff."

"That's what happens when you hire a 20 year old."

"He's 25." He considers Richie a moment. "Wait, what was that?"

"What was what?"

Eddie eyes him. "That tone was hostile and, like, jealous. Are you-"

"I'm definitely not jealous."

Eddie's eyes widen. "You're lying! That's your lying face!"

"I have a lying face?" Richie asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You do, and you're making it right now. Why would you be jealous of Matt?"

"I'm not!" he protests. He sighs. "I dunno, man, it's just like, the most important day of your life and that's who you're celebrating with."

"Richie," Eddie says. His voice is gentle, like trying to coax a wild animal into a cage. It makes Richie want to punch a wall at how ridiculously easy it is for Eddie to turn him to mush. "I would rather celebrate with you than anyone in the world. But, baby, you're not here."

Richie's mind short circuits so hard over the word 'baby' that it takes him a full 30 seconds to process the rest of that sentence. He scoffs a laugh, completely humorless. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

Eddie's face crumbles and he looks down and away from the camera, like he's ashamed. Like Richie is embarrassing him.

He instantly feels like a jackass. "I'm sorry, Eds, I'm not trying to rain on your parade. I was just worried, when you didn't call."

"I said I was sorry. I got busy."

"I texted you three times," Richie replies. He feels like a petulant housewife who spent all day cooking a dinner that her husband never came home to eat. He guesses that's exactly how he sounds, too.

Eddie turns his sad eyes on Richie. "I didn't even look at my phone until like fifteen minutes ago. I called as soon as I saw them."

"I know, I know." He shakes his head. "'I'm sorry, 'm being a dick."

Eddie smirks. "Imagine that."

Richie breathes out his nose and wills himself not to be angry. Always understanding, never upset. Always with a joke but never with a complaint. How he's been all year, all his life with Eddie, if he's honest with himself. Never too emotional or serious, just in case it overwhelms. "I'll let you get back. Just let me know when you book your flight, I'll clean the guest room."

"The guest room?" Eddie's face falls. "I have to sleep in my own room? You're that mad that I forgot to call?"

"No, it's not- I just didn't want to assume-"

"Or is it because I'm out with Matt?" Eddie continues like Richie hadn't even spoken. "Because I barely even know him, Rich. I was just in a good mood and we both needed to eat. It doesn't- I don't know if he's even gay."

Richie feels green. "He's cute," he says neutrally. "He's there. You're drunk."

"Richie."

He shakes his head, rubs his palms against the denim on his knees. "I know, I know. I'm being stupid because I miss you and I missed today and I- I'm sorry."

Eddie eyes go big and wistful. "I would never- Rich, I've spent the entire time since I've met him waxing poetic about you. Besides business shit, you're the only thing we've talked about. He's probably getting sick of it, honestly."

The sudden leap of his stomach makes him want to puke. "It's okay, Eds, you don't have to-"

"Richie," Eddie cuts him off. He pulls the phone closer to his face. "Richie, I'm crazy about you. You know, sometimes-" He laughs, blushes, glances away for a second. Richie wants to look at him forever. "Somtimes after we hang up, I jerk off to the memory of the sound of your voice. It's kind of pathetic. I'm completely gone on you, is the point I'm making."

"I-" he stops himself. He'd sworn at least a hundred times over the passed year that he wasn't going to say it until Eddie is in front of him. And he's going to keep that promise. "You're- you're everything, sweetheart. I- You know how I feel about you, don't you, Eddie?"

Eddie's smile is blinding. "Yeah, I think you waiting on me for almost a year while I got my shit together is a pretty big clue."

Richie grins back.

"I have to go settle the tab," Eddie says after a moment.

"You could call me," Richie tells him, "when you get back to your room. Jerk off to my actual voice, instead of the memory. I could say something worth jerking off to."

Pink rises on Eddie's cheekbones and flushes down onto his neck, right where Richie wants to bite him. "Thanks, now I have to go back in there at half mast."

"Oh, you are so very welcome. No need to thank me. The pleasure's all mine, really." The sad thing is, he isn't lying. Nothing gets him going faster than the mere idea that Eddie wants him. The evidence of it, the confession, has him rock hard in his pants already.

"You're insufferable."

"Insatiable, Edward. The word is insatiable."

Eddie rolls his eyes with a chuckle. "I'm going to call you in 45 minutes," he promises.

Richie nods. "I'll have my script ready. The never ending list of things I'd do to corrupt the pure and innocent Eddie Kaspbrak."

"Insufferable!" He pauses, still smiling even though he's griping. "45 minutes."

"I'll be here, Eds." He flushes with the honesty of it. "I'll always be here."

[oneofthosesimps]

Hey, just wanted to say that I love your fic “the Animal in Him”! Hope there will be a part two soon, but no pressure! Have a great day!

The Animal in Him (Part Two)

pairing: levi x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 1790

summary: after levi got you all dirty, it's time he got you clean again, but your asshole is just too tempting

warnings: anal, rough sex, dirtytalk, swearing, semi-public sex, sub x dom, double penetration (fingers and dick)

authors note: every time i write another story about levi, it feels like i'm coming home. i love this man, best husbando forever and i wish he would do all these things to me. anyway, i hope you like part 2 of "The Animal in Him" (and i'm glad you like the fanfic so much <3)

all credits to the artist of this pic:

unfortunately i do not know who it is from

-----

"Spread them wider, pet".

You moan softly as your hands dig deeper into the fat of your butt and you spread your ass cheeks. The warm water puddles on your back and runs along your curves. Single drops make their way through the mounds you're pulling apart, mixing with the rest of Levi's juice still running out of your asshole.

"Mmm, that looks so good," Levi murmurs behind you, licking his lips. You look down over your shoulders at him. Crouching behind you, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, he eyes the most intimate corners of your body, surveying the rest of his work from a moment ago. His silver eyes sparkle up at you before one of his fingers finds its way to your little hole. Goosebumps overtake your body as he gently massages the brim and you bite your lip to stifle your moan. You lean your head back against the cold tiles and press your cheek against them. A long moan comes from between your lips as his finger penetrates you, starting at the first knuckle and then continuing. "Still stretched so nice for me, pet". Your tight walls twitch at his words, causing Levi to moan as well, "Fuck." His finger strokes along your insides, pushing his remaining cum deep inside you again. With an ease he slides a second finger to the other. Your legs start to shake and you try to hold onto the wall so you don't collapse. With slow movements, Levi fucks your asshole, occasionally spreading his fingers to massage your core. His hard cock drips at the sight of it and he swallows hard.

"Please ... Please fuck me." His fingers inside you feel so incredibly good, but you need more pressure. Your cunt is still swollen from the fuck a moment ago and your clit is begging for touch so your body can finally come. Your limbs tingle and your lower body throbs uncomfortably. The desire to finally be filled by him again grows and makes your head buzz.

"So you want me to fuck you, huh? Such a good pet," at these words he pulls out of you, making you moan. His big body straightens up behind you and your back pushes through. You claw into the wet wall beneath you as you present your ass to him. His eyes meet yours briefly and you see how dark they have become again. His pupils have exploded like they did earlier in the stall, making him look animalistic. His fat cock stands from him and twitches slightly, the head glistening like a pearl. He grips it and steps closer to you, rubbing along between the lips of your cunt and smearing your juice.

Just as he is about to enter you, the door to the men's washroom opens. You freeze in your movements and look at him in shock. You freeze in your movements and look at him in shock. Actually, Levi's plan had been to finish with you before the rest of the cadets got back from training, but someone threw a wrench in his works. He strains, trying to make out who it is over the splashing of your shower water, to tell them to fuck off. He meets your gaze and panic overcomes you as a smirk settles on his lips. It's convenient, of course. Footsteps move across the tiles before the curtain of the booth next to you is pulled closed and the water starts up there.

Levi leans over to you and puts his lips to your ears, "Guess who this is." A soft laugh comes from him before he pushes forward at the sound of the other shower and penetrates you, splitting you open. Your cunt sucks him up greedily and it feels like he's being sucked forward. You whimper softly and squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck, how can you be so tight again?" You press your hand over your mouth and moan into it as he digs forward, finally arriving at your cervix. He fits into you so perfectly, as always, as if he was made to fuck you. His thick cock fills you completely, each of his veins laying perfectly into the spongy structure inside you, and as he moves, his heavy, full balls slap against your clit at just the right angle. Each thrust from him, leaves you jerking up and moaning. Your voice and soft whimpers mix with the splashing of the shower water, forming a symphony in his ears. His big hands grip your waist to keep you in place in front of him and he increases his speed and strength. Inwardly, you hope the neighbour next door doesn't hear. Fortunately, he starts humming softly, which further overshadows your noises.

Each of Levi's thrusts is deep and hits every spot with relish. He fucks you against the cold tile wall while the blonde man showers on the other side. A knot slowly builds in your stomach and you shamelessly press against him to create more friction.

All at once, the nice feeling is gone and the familiar emptiness spreads through you. Just as you're about to complain, you feel a pressure on your asshole. Levi's cock presses into that hole, stretching it open nicely as well. "You didn't really think I wasn't going to fuck it again. Especially with Erwin on the other side of this wall," he moans in your ear, clawing into your flesh. "Fuck, it feels so good. I regret that we didn't do this sooner." His balls tighten and he clenches his teeth. So nice and tight, he's about to cum again. The still unfamiliar feeling spreads back inside you. The mixture of pleasure and the uncomfortable feeling of having to relieve form a diabolical mix that leaves your cunt dripping with envy.

"Please fuck my other hole again. Please fuck my pussy," you whisper under him, squirming back and forth. Tears form in your eyes. You desperately need to cum, your body is driving you crazy. But Levi wouldn't dream of letting your asshole go. Instead, he bends over your back and lets one of his hands wander between your legs. His long fingers find your warm hole and he presses three of his fingers into you at once. You moan loudly and roll your eyes. They dig deep into your skull as Levi finds a good rhythm to fuck both of your holes at the same time.

"Mmm, you like it when I fuck your cunt at the same time?" he murmurs behind you, watching the change in your face. Wrinkles form between your closed eyes as saliva runs from your slightly parted lips. The sight makes him moan and he hopes Erwin heard him. He presses deeper into you, "You're so dirty, no shower will help."

Your legs soften and you drop all your weight against the now warm shower wall. Again, a knot appears in your lower stomach area. The feeling of being filled like this is sinful. The stretching of your asshole blends beautifully with the massaging of your soft walls by his fingers. They keep pressing against the point below your navel and you lose your last connection to the earth.

"What were you thinking just now when we came back and my cum was squeezing out of you with every move you made?" vibrates Levi's dark voice behind you. His jaw tenses as he worships you like you're his goddess. He has to pull himself together hard to keep from cumming at the sight of you and the sounds you make because of him. "The others must have seen what a whore you are". You get a little louder at the word and squirm under him again. Once more, you hope that the shower drowns out your noises and that no one hears you. "How I wish I had told Erwin that your asshole was filled to the top with my cum. He probably would have wanted to fuck you anyway and you probably would have still let him." That thought drives you crazy. The knot inside you tightens and tightens, and the tears that have been pooling in the corners of your eyes begin to roll down your cheeks. They mix with the wetness of the water wetting your body. "Maybe I should just tell him now".

"No, you shouldn't?" you whisper, your lips trembling, your voice shaking.

"What is that supposed to be, a question?" He hit the nail on the head. In truth, you would never let Erwin touch you, but the thought brings you closer and closer to your climax. Again, your walls tighten, making Levi curse, "Fuck, tighten up even more, pet. Your walls are milking me at the thought of him shooting his cum to mine. You like that thought?" You moan under him and sob, "Should we just pull the curtain away and go to him? Should I show him what a good whore you are?"

"I'm so close to cumming, Levi." He ignores your statement and your crying and a brutal thrust hits the inside of your ass, "Look at me, pet."

Your tired body starts to move and you turn so that your eyes meet. Both of your holes flutter as you see his half-closed eyes. Deep black hits your soul and you seem to lose yourself in him. Fittingly, his dark strands spread wildly across his forehead, water dripping down from some of the tips and hitting your body. A deep sound comes from his throat as he feels your insides pulsing, "Come".

With that little word, your body explodes beneath him. He clings to your petite body beneath him and fucks you for as long as he can, through your orgasm before your hot body brings him to release as well. His cock pumps itself empty in your asshole and fills it to the brim again. Your bodies work against each other. Your voice is way too loud and Levi purposely pulls your hand away from your mouth so you can echo around the room. The humming in the booth next to you stops, but you can't stop screaming your head off. Again and again Levi's name resounds through the washroom and it fires him with pride to make you come like this next to his commander. This continues until you come down from your high. Levi pulls out of you and takes you in his arms, slithering down the wet tiles with you like this before you sit on the floor. His full lips settle on yours for a brief moment before moving to your jaw, "I'm looking forward to the next time Erwin looks at your ass." If that's the consequence, so are you.

[heli0s-writes]

It Is Knowing*

HI THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. It’s been a wonderful ride. Here’s the last part of Bag of Tricks. It’s tender and smutty and stupid. All mistakes are my own.

Please stop reading if you are not over 18!

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

He’s terrified.

Suddenly he’s looking at you one way, and then in a flash, the same dumb grin you always give him— the crooked one on the cusp of an ill joke— turns bright white.

It goes brilliant like star fire and during a storm inside a standard-issued cabin hideout, Bucky thinks he must be losing his mind.

And maybe he’s been losing it for a few weeks now, but he’s done a great job dodging the reality of your confession so far. Doesn’t matter what you mumbled—cracked out on exhaustion and sleep-talking��because in the end, you’re his friend and you love him the same way you love everyone else: annoyingly. Nothing’s changed about that.

He hazards another glimpse.

“Help?” You ask from the table, angrily scratching out blocks of an attempted crossword puzzle.

Do it in pencil, he tried to warn earlier, but you only called him chickenshit because you’re—yep—annoying.  

“Foudre,” Bucky says carefully and you perk up at the sound of his voice. “It’s a… six-letter French word for thunder.” He clears his throat, gesturing toward the window splattered with rain.

“Oh-ho-ho,” you snort, “Smart boy, aren’t ya? FOO-DRUH.” An incredible bastardization of the term, and you sing around a chewed-up pen cap between your teeth. “My name’s Smart-Boy-Bucky and I know French, Russian, and Updog.”

“What the hell is Updog?”

Your face steels.

“Nothing much, how ‘bout you?”

And instead of going over there to kick your ass, all he can do is stare wordlessly as you break into a laugh—his entire body electric like a live wire.

-

He keeps telling himself there are only a few days before someone drops in to collect. He just needs a little bit of distance, some time alone to clear his head and get over this—thing.

But his brain feels like it’s melting while he waits, his stomach is probably developing an ulcer, and his heart is so fast and fierce that he can almost see the pulse in his sternum throbbing errantly.

Too many things are wrong. You’re his friend— and Bucky wants to throttle himself a little bit for ever letting you be his friend. You’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass and he doesn’t like that at all. You cry over animals and when he gets hurt because you’re an insufferable drama queen, too. He hates that. He does.

The sound of something enormous slamming on the ground makes him dash into the shared bedroom and—oh god, Bucky thinks he’s going to throw up.

First, the mattresses are on the floor.

Second, you’re. wearing. that. stupid. shirt.

The blue one. The one he used to love, hated for a bit, came back around to wearing, and now—yep, he officially hates it again.

“I think you’re too tall for the bunk.” You’re pushing the beds together, unaware of his clenched fists. “So if we sleep diagonally your feet won’t hang off—and can you believe it—” you point to the hem of cerulean brushing against your skin, “I packed three raincoats and no pajamas.”

At the sight of your creeping smile, Bucky loses it.

“Why are you going through my stuff?!” He shouts, gripping the doorframe with enough force to take the molding clear off. “Why are you touching my shit!?” And he probably sounds insane, flying off the handle like this, but he’s got a million grievances against you and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Mind your own fucking business!” He’s still unloading, unreasonably frantic at the sight of that terrible color hanging from your shoulders.

Bewildered, you plop down clumsily on your knees, gawking like a deer in the headlights.

Your bare legs, your fingertips on your thighs, the thin sleeves oversized and loose on your forearms, that smear of toothpaste on the collar, the hollow of your throat taut from holding your breath—it makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you dizzy.

It makes him want to touch you. It makes him want you.

He’s sick. He’s dying. He’s so, so fucked.

“What…” Bucky quietly trails off, gasping helplessly as realization sinks in, “…what the hell is wrong with you...”

“Me?!” You shriek back, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m over here worried about your crusty feet hanging off at night and you just swing in and take a dump on me?”

Bucky groans, miserable and guilty. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “Shit. I’m—I don’t know.”

“Eat my ass, dude!” you sneer, already tucked under the blankets. “I’m going to sleep. Turn off the fucking light you’re going to stand there looking like a dumbass.”

A feeble sigh as Bucky pushes his hands into his face, gripping his hair, pulling his own head back until he’s glaring at the ceiling, listening to the patter on the roof.

“You’re the dumbass,” he whispers.

You’re the dumbass with the emotional regulation problem. The idiot with the temper. The head full of sawdust. But, if it only took three careless words from your blundering mouth to make Bucky fall entirely apart, you must be right after all. He is the dumbass.

He feels split open like the sky—torn up completely, unable to make out anything in his own turbulence.

Fuck.

The sheets shift until he hears them slide off. Then, a pattern of bare feet across hardwood. He must look disastrous in the doorway, bent out of shape in uncharacteristic disarray.

“What is going on with you?” You find his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrists, tugging until they peel off his wretched face. “Why are you so upset? I wear your clothes all the time; I’m always in your stuff.”

He chuckles defeatedly because you really are always in his space. Throwing yourself into in his room. Eating chips in his bed. Squirreling away in his brain. Everywhere. Always.

Bucky presses his lips into a thin line, grimacing as he looks at you. Wordless and vulnerable, he can feel his brow sinking lower, throat narrowing around a swallow as he attempts to fix himself. A stutter falls out, then another, crackling syllables like surfacing thunder but never quite forming a sentence.

The earth groans, shaking the cabin and his precarious soul.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like—”

And then, under a streak of lightning, recognition splits across your face.

“Don’t,” he pleads to the silence, “Don’t say it.”

The seconds stretch into horrible eons of slow passing time. You tilt your head this way and that, eyes going from his face to his hands, limp at his side with your own fingers still grasping on.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you say gently, “You’re—my best friend.”

Bucky shuts his eyes. “I know. I’m not trying—"

“Bucky,” you interrupt, faster now. “Bucky,” suddenly elated and laughing. “Bucky—shut up.”

And then the entire room bursts into flames. Your lips are searing hot against his— plump and eager, leaving scorching trails everywhere they touch, and Bucky burns up like a solar flare trying to catch his breath.

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, kissing him again. His cheeks, his jaw, his chin. “A real idiot.”

He’s terrified and dizzy, fumbling with a million possible outcomes and failing painfully each time. Relationships never quite work out for him; he’s dated a few girls and liked them a lot, too, but they’ve never turned out how he wanted them to. And this one—this one, he really can’t fuck up.

He’s got a bad track record, and with you, never knowing is much better than losing.

“Hey, you’re going crazy in there. I can hear it.” A sweet smile as your lips hover over his. The sweetest your face as ever looked. “Stop thinking, Bucky. Kiss me.”

Your lashes are so long and pretty. The dip of your cupid’s bow, a shape he adores. Even the tiny scar on your neck and the way your hair moves— wispy strands framing your face. Sounds of happiness tumbling out, hand firmly inside of his.

“It’s just me.” Joyful. Comfortable. “You know me.”

Your eyes glimmer—a familiar color calling him home.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do.”

Steve was the more competent linguist in their old days. Rolling French r’s, dropping ending consonants, silky smooth in pronunciation. Bucky’s tongue had always been more supplant to the Eastern European languages but, he knows enough of French—remembers enough from the war to recognize this:

Coup de foudre.

It’s the thing romantics exalt, the thing that half-strikes him now. The thunderbolt.

Love at first sight, even though it’s not quite first sight at all.

It’s not infatuated or starry-eyed. Not blind. Not feeling.

It is knowing.

And yeah, Bucky watches the way you pull him to the floor, euphoric and aglow, Jesus H. Christ, he knows.

This is it for him: your chaos, your entropy, your impulse. Your lack of personal space and foresight and good fucking sense. But—your kindness, too. Your care. Your heart.

Calm and patient as you settle down into his lap, the warm weight of you seems to be the only thing keeping him on earth.

“Can I touch you?” You ask shyly.

His voice is barely audible, hands unsure of where to rest, heart swollen in his throat.

Bucky flushes, and in the split second of your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, he tells himself do it, you coward, just fucking do it—and god help him, he does.

He presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collar and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs and instinctively pulling everything off.

You’re both surprised and excited, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too.

His shirt gets flung behind your back. Both pants disappear somewhere else. One hand goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

Bucky stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

He feels perfect in your hands. A silly grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and glide yourself over his length, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Bucky begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s unquestionably powerless.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Buck.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Bucky holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second--"

Using the position you’re already in, he lifts you up and brings you back down, a bit at a time until you’re landing on his hand with a gasp. He uses his fist as a stopper, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Thor?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a hook up. One time—and he���s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Bucky wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking on top, tipping him backward into the cushions, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Bucky, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck. 

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Bucky could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

-

It’s rougher in the morning. In the shower, soaking together. Faster.

On the couch, next. With him asking you to put your hand here, move your leg there.

He wants to learn everything you like, too.

You eagerly change positions, giggling when your knee slips and you pitch forward onto his chest. The two of you take a moment to compose yourselves, pinching each other, kissing in-between. He commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you. The way everything moves easy and wonderful, sometimes lazy, sometimes harried, but always fun.

Yelping when you bite too hard. Biting you back even harder. Positions neither of you have surprisingly tried before, but why not start?

Cursing. So much cursing. A lot of it good—fuck me, yes, more, don’t stop—but truthfully, most of it stays about the same.

Barnes, you got a juicy ass.

Will you shut up!

And he never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or if maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Bucky’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the front door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Sam swings it open and Bucky is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” Sam hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Sam!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a sweater, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Bucky is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers again, “Oh… my god.” He sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” he hisses, before screaming, “Oh hell no! I’m here picking y’all asses up. Landed the damn jet like two miles away, walked my happy ass through the rain— you butt-ass-naked in here—” He stands ram-rod straight, hands on his hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on y’all.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Sam!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m wet! And well— you wet too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Sam snickers, high-fiving himself before crossing his arms, “Really though, believe me when I say this for everybody who’s ever met you two: finally. Now get y’all freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Barnes’ dick.”

You pat him on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Sam dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Bucky locks the door to a now silent cabin, damp with sweat and the smell of earth. It’s torrential still, two days bucketing and the ground is so wet mud goes up to his ankles. Luckily, and he wants to laugh at that, you packed two extra raincoats.

Thunderclaps shake the very ground he stands on. Bucky turns to look at you, marveling when electricity bounces off your eyes, lighting up your face. He reaches over.

A squeeze to your hand that says I’m yours.

One more, tighter. I love you.

You slot your fingers between his. I know.

You smile at the next streak in the sky. Me too.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

31 from the touch list? Please?

31 (touches). doing a pinky swear

((prompt list here - still accepting!!))

u didn't request any ships/characters specifically so here's Magnus n Lucretia (platonic)

--

It was five days back into a new cycle and Lucretia still wasn't talking to him, which Magnus was trying to accept. Last year hadn't been great for any of them, he was sure, but it was specifically terrible for Magnus, Barry, and Lucretia. There hadn't been any humans on that plane but there had been a council. The world was full of strange and mysterious oddities that the council set out to study. Being freshly new and odd, the council had taken it upon themselves to-

Study was putting it lightly.

Barry had been taken first, under the prose that the council just wanted to speak to him, privately. The "private meeting" went on for much longer than they had agreed upon and when they had gone to look for Barry, he hadn't been there.

Davenport had made Lucretia and Magnus promise not to leave the ship. They did so, Magnus less willing than Lucretia, and well-

Magnus was usually good at following orders. But there were lives at stake. Humans weren't the only ones being hurt by the council and the breaking point for him had been seeing a dog-like creature dragged into the research center, as Davenport made him stand back and out of the way.

He tried sneaking out in the middle of the night, but Lucretia had caught up with him. They argued for a bit about Davenport's rule and then set out together, to go find Barry. Lucretia had made Magnus promise- promise, wholeheartedly- that he wouldn't do anything rash. Magnus agreed, knowing how he was, and without the intent to actually follow through.

He had sort of... broken that promise upon seeing what was going on inside the research center. Even now, thinking about it made him sick. He felt guilty, after re-gen, for breaking his word, but even more guilty upon the realization that his actions had lead Lucretia to death for the first time ever.

That's probably why she wasn't talking, thinking logically about it. Taako and Lup had told him the story of what happened after (once they were done mobbing Barry, that is). It had been a grizzly sight and they had even convinced Davenport to let them burn down the facility once they rescued everyone inside. The sadness of missing a revolution was outmatched by the stinging regret he felt every time he saw Lucretia.

"Just- talk to her," Lup groaned, head in her hands, after Magnus had come to her for the fifth time to talk about it. She swept the papers she had been working on aside and turned to face him.

"Look, Mags, both of you are, putting it nicely, stubborn little shits- don't give me that look, you know you are. The rest of us are, too, that's why we're not perma-dead yet. But babe, you can't just let it lie. It's just gonna end with you two crying at each other and then getting over it. C'mon dude."

"But," Magnus started. Lup rolled her eyes.

"Lucy's like a sister to you, yeah?" Lup asked and Magnus nodded, frowning. "Okay, then take it from me, someone who has a terrible, horrible brother, whom I love very dearly. This fight, or whatever, isn't helping anyone. Communication is key when it comes to any relationship, even platonic ones. Stop being so scared that she's mad at you and start being scared that you might lose your friendship if you don't do anything."

"Right," Magnus said, a little more determined. "Okay, yeah. Thank you."

"Uh-huh," Lup said, turning back to his papers. "If you see Barry on your way tell him that, uh- the experiment we started earlier is going well."

"Is that code for something?" Magnus asked, watching the way Lup's face split into a sly grin.

"Not that I'll tell," she said, winking.

--

It took until that night for Magnus to properly work up the courage to talk to Lucretia, which made him feel stupid. He could run into a swarm of the Hunger feeling nothing but excitement, but the idea of talking with Lucretia about what had happened last cycle made him feel almost sick to his stomach.

In the end, he knocked on Lucretia's door half an hour before dinner. There was a shuffle from inside and then the door opened a bit and Lucretia peaked out. She didn't look surprised to see him there. If anything, she looked just about as nervous as Magnus felt.

"Alright," Lucretia said. "Come in."

She opened the door wider and beckoned Magnus inside. He had been in here before, of course. There was a slowly filling bookshelf of her journals, and journals she had yet to use. Her sheets were a dark, royal blue, from a fabric shop from a few cycles back. There was an easel in the corner and a bucket full of different types of paints and art... things... Magnus wasn't very well versed in any of it.

She pulled the chair out from her desk and let him sit, sitting on top of the desk herself. They stared.

"Taako said-" she started, at the same time he said,

"Lup-"

She grinned at him sheepishly. It made Magnus feel a lot better to know she had gotten advice, too. She gestured at him, letting him go first.

"I went to Lup," he began, "because I didn't know exactly how to- to fix this, but she just said to talk to you, and let it come out, so, uh. I'm sorry, I guess. No, I mean- I am sorry, I just- I'm not good at thinking through things and you got hurt because of it. You died because I rushed into something and I should have thought about that. I should have kept you in mind, but when I saw all those creatures getting hurt, and thought about what must have happened to Barry, I- couldn't help myself. I'm sorry you died because of it. Because- of because of me."

Lucretia was silent for a few moments, hands resting in her lap. He had been avoiding her eye during his speech, but when he was done, he looked up at her.

"I'm not angry because I died," she said. "I'm angry because you broke your promise."

"I- what?"

"I don't care that I died!" Lucretia said loudly, slamming her hand on the desk. "It fucking- yes, yeah, it hurt, but it hurt that you promised me you wouldn't rush in, and then you did! If you're going to be rash, you need to tell me outright- that's what got us killed, Magnus! That you didn't trust me enough to tell me what you were thinking!"

"I trust you!" Magnus said, but Lucretia shook her head. She was looking a little teary.

"Did you promise with the intention of actually keeping your word?" she asked, and when Magnus couldn't respond (because, no, he hadn't been planning to be "rash" about it), she turned away from him and said, "that's what I thought."

"They were hurting the animals and people they had there," Magnus said, finally, voice wet and hurt. "I couldn't just... let them do that. I couldn't, Lucretia."

"I know," she said, taking a deep breath. "I know. I just- just as appalled you was, trust me. We could have gotten out alive, though, I think. If you had taken the time to think about what to do with me. Like Lup and Taako did, when they broke everyone out after we died."

Something uncomfortable was rooted in Magnus's chest and it was that she was right- she was a hundred percent right. He had the tendency to act instead of think and had been like that before the Starblaster mission. It was fitting for a twenty-two-year-old, fresh into the real world, but- fuck. He wasn't twenty-two, anymore, not really.

He saw the pain in Lucretia's eyes and realized she wasn't twenty anymore, either. Not like they were when they started.

"You're right," Magnus said, nodding. "I broke my promise, willingly, and it was stupid of me. I can't promise things like that right off the back because I'm realizing I still have a lot of growing left to do. It's- weird, I think. Being so young with so much knowledge. I don't feel like I'm living up to the age I actually am."

Lucretia nodded, slowly, and looked into his eyes. He could see the tears in them.

"I shouldn't have made you promise something so drastic for you," Lucretia said.

"Maybe not," Magnus shrugged. "But there is something I can say- I can promise, I mean. Look, pinky swear, so you know I'm not lying."

He held out his pinky. Lucretia took it apprehensively in her own, a small smile sneaking back onto her face.

"I promise I'm gonna try to grow up," he swore and Lucretia snorted. "Seriously- maybe not like, uh, like I'm still gonna be childish as fuck, don't doubt that, but- I'm gonna try to think things through more. Think of the consequences to my actions."

He shook their pinky's, a bit violently. Lucretia took her hand back, looking at him appraisingly.

"I'll hold you to that," she said.

"Please do," Magnus said.

[grade1sorcerer]

Three Minutes

pairing: bakugou x reader

warnings: SMUT NSFW, spanking, exhibitionism, dumbification, degradation, hint of praise, dub-con, masochism, humiliation, spit, swearing, edging

authors note: this is my first fic so please don’t judge too hard, feel free to leave any suggestions :)

Three minutes was all it took for you to read Katsuki’s text. Three minutes for you to stumble towards his dorm. Three minutes until you were underneath him while he basked in your beauty in the moonlight. The light hit your body in all the perfect places, Katsuki captivated as he stared hungrily at your lips.

“A little birdie told me you were flirting with that damn icy-hot today.” He growled as he nibbled on your ear, making you twitch in arousal. You love seeing him get worked up over this, giving you a sense of power as you smirked. “So what if I was?”

“I don’t like sharing dumbass, you’re mine. That icy-hot bastard can’t fuck you like I do. He can’t stretch you wide and fill you up like me,” he spat, the words words so lewd but oh so arousing.

He violently flipped you over as your laid on your stomach and wiftly took off your pants and panties.  You felt a sting on your ass and before you knew it, Katsuki was spanking them until there were visible hand marks. The last slap made you slightly moan and you frowned into the pillow.

“Tch. you must really like it when I slap your ass huh?” He laughed as he pushed his growing erection onto you. “Dirty slut,”

That made your face heat up as you pushed your face even more into the pillow to stop Katsuki from noticing.

“Alright let me get to the point, I called that icy-hot bastard over for a special treat.”

“You’re inviting him over for a threesome?” You gasped, snapping your head towards Bakugou as he balanced himself above you with his arms. This would be so embarrassing if he joined. Would it be considered cheating? Katsuki hates him. As if on cue, the door opens revealing a tired-looking todoroki.

“Yes Bakugou? What seems to be the pro-“ He cuts himself off as he notices you under Bakugou, half-nude. “S-Sorry am I interrupting?” He stuttered, face red as he tried to look away while gripping the door handle tight.

“No dumbass, sit the fuck down.” Katsuki instructed and Todoroki complied hesitantly. “I need you here so I can teach this whore to set her fantasies straight.”

What could this possibly mean?

You wondered for a split second until it clicked into your head. “Oh shit.” you muttered, cursing yourself for even talking to your hot-headed boyfriend today.

“You’re gonna watch me fuck this dirty slut until she tells- even better, begs for me to set her straight. Until i’m the only person on her mind.” Bakugou chuckles, exposing his evil side grin.

Todoroki gulps as he looks at your figure. It shouldn’t happen but he’s oddly aroused seeing Bakugou top you.

Bakugou turned you over again and burned a hole in your favourite shirt.

“HEY” you yelled, but we’re ignored after he saw your breasts. You watched him hungrily bite your bra straps, pushing it down until all was left was your exposed breasts. Quickly grabbing one, he watched your nipple harden as he breathed on the nub. “Ooh, your nipples already hard for me baby? Can’t fucking control yourself huh?” He grunted as he latched onto one, circling around it with his tongue. You let out a breathy moan giving him the green light to play with the other one with his fingers.

Your legs are squirming underneath him, and you already begin to feel yourself get wet. You can’t help it, but here you are trying to contain your moans which sound more like whimpers, as he laps up his saliva onto your nipples. “Ka-Katsuki” you groan arching your back.

“Gonna cum already huh? You’re so fucking sensitive, cumming at the slightest touch? Tch, you’re a needy bitch aren’t you?” He slurred, in between his kisses in your breasts. “Can’t have you doing that baby.”

He picked himself up and looked towards Todoroki who had a visible erection and smirked. “You’re enjoying me pleasure this filthy whore huh.” Todoroki could only nod with eagerness.

Todoroki wanted Bakugou to do that to him, HE wanted bakugou to make him feel good like what he was doing to you.

Katsuki removed his pants and boxers, revealing his cock. You had forgotten how big he was, and he took pride in watching you gasp at the size. “A dumb little slut like you wants a taste? You want this fat cock to fuck your mouth in hopes it makes you less braindead?” He mocked as he stroked himself before roughly entering your mouth. He groaned in pleasure and thrusted himself in and out of you, giving small grunts of approval. What he felt was ecstacy, as you sucked on the tip and played with his balls simultaneously. “D-Dumbass, you do it so g-good” He moaned as he threw his head back in pleasure.

You could feel his thrusts get sloppier as you continued sucking his cock, giving the impression that he was gonna cum. Oh boy it was hot watching him struggle to keep his composure as he gripped your hair tightly. “Baby- dumbass, I’m gonna cum s-soon.” He let out a breathy sigh. It was a matter of seconds before he jolted his hips forward and came in your mouth. You didn’t hesitate and licked up all of his milk and as he continued to catch his breath. Katsuki made his way up and clashed his lips with yours.

Todoroki sat their in awe, pants wet from the pre-cum. This man was so sexually frustrated, it wasn’t even funny. He unzipped them, pulling his cock out and grabbed the pillow that was placed next to him on the couch, and slowly started humping it. He made sure to contain his small whimpers as he relieved some of the tension. It made him so aroused watching you make out with him, the way your lips softly made love with the man of your dreams.

“This was the only praise you’ll get idiot,” Katuski bellowed as he pulled away, his eyes paying attention to your soaked panties. Pulling them off, he stared hungrily at your pussy. “Look at you being such a filthy bitch for me. Your dirty fucking pussy is so wet, I can drown in it” He grumbled as he blew on your clit.

“Katsuki, that’s so lewd” You whined, flustered from the degrading. You moaned in pleasure as he rubbed your clit with his fingers, coated with his saliva. What made you even wetter was when Katsuki spat on your pussy and spread it with his tongue. He circled your clit as you squirmed under him, humping the air. Once your moans became more prominent he added two fingers in, without giving you time to adjust. He plunged them in and out at a fast-pace making you scream in satisfaction.

Todoroki watched as Bakugou abused your pussy, devouring you like a feral animal. His thrusts increased and felt himself chasing his orgasm. “Ah- yes... r-right there,” he whispered as he came onto the cushion.

You felt so good, and he did it so fucking well. You didn’t care if he was talking down to you, because to be honest it was so much more arousing to you. “B-baby, I’m g-gonna c-cum” You stuttered while your moans filled the room. “You cum when I say so, got it dumbass? Your dirty cunt has no right to cum unless I say so. I’m going to get you so close and then stop because I know you fucking love it.” You gulped in agreement as he stretched your legs open.

“You only think with your pussy huh? Maybe the next time I fuck you will be the day you get a brain,” He retorted. He rubbed his hard cock as you laid there breathless and slid it against your entrance. You moaned and twitched at the touch. Without giving you any warning, he shoved his thick cock into you, stretching you so wide it had you seeing stars. “K-Katsuki, s-stop, w-wait!” You screamed as he pounded into you. His length hitting your cervix caused a shiver down your spine.

Todoroki was rubbing himself again, except fully exposing his cock. The way Bakugou pounded into you, made his cock throb. HE wanted to be in your position, HE wanted to feel Bakugou’s length.

Three minutes, Katuski had you crying from the continuous pleasure, your mascara running down your face as he choked you while pounding into your sweet pussy. “Dumb slut,” He growled, each time a little louder as you tried to rub your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to cum so bad. You wanted to be filled with Katsuki’s cum. You wanted to be his cocksleeve.

“Stop being so fucking loud, you dumb whore,” He grunted as he continued to pound into you. You felt your orgasm coming, but you had to be quiet. Each time you made a small noice, Katsuki spat on you telling you to shut the fuck up. You were so goddamn close to cumming, you couldn’t even see clear at this point, your legs were numb, the only thing you could think about was cumming.

“You wanna cum so damn bad huh? Cum for me then, you dirty bitch,” You grinded against him a little harder and finally came on his dick. “K-Katsuki, Ah” you groaned as you laid there feeling on cloud 9. “D-Dumbass, y-your pussy feels so g-good!” He managed to let out before he caught up to his own orgasm and came in your hole.

Todoroki was so close too, watching you both lazily make out and clean each other up with your mouths. Before he knew it, he was cumming hard onto his pants and the pillow.

“Looks like we gotta take care of you next time, you damn icy-hot.”

[worfs-fabulous-hair]

Should I start adding spoiler warnings on these posts ? I didn't fully realize that I'm probably spoiling episodes for people until today so I might start putting that at the top of the posts.

Onto the episodes.

Series I'm currently on : TOS

Episodes watched: 01x15- 01x17

Episode names:

Shore Leave

The Galileo Seven

The Squire of Gothos

Thoughts:

Shore leave

Kirk was so accepting of the massage he was getting when he thought it was Spock giving it to him.

So it's the Alice in wonderland episode

Slowly zooms in on a rock that starts levitating with a conveniently placed loaded gun. That rock is going to shoot someone

Yells out someone's name in the middle of no where to see if they reply even though they both have communicators

Random shooting starts , turns out to be sulu who found a gun and decided it would be the best idea would be to just start shooting it at random

Random man shows up and starts fist fighting the captain and laughing manically

An officer is assault by someone and sulu follows them to try to apprehend them , everyone keeps splitting up even though it would probably be better if they stayed together .

A woman shows up and I'm assuming she is or looks like one of Jim's old lovers ??

At what point do they decide that something is really fucked up and go back to the ship ?

Like they already know about the shit that happened on Talos IV why haven't any of them been more suspicious of this planet being like that

I too get distracted by princess dresses I find in the forest

Oh shit a tiger

Samurai jumps up out of trapped door and starts attacking sulu , this seems slightly racist

That knights horse is walking so strangely

Bones has been stabbed by the knight

Everything is wax figures , everything

Another crew man is dead

Bones' body is gone

Jim is blindly running through the forest after the guy who fist fought him before

What is it with Kirk constantly wrestling men and getting his clothes half torn off

Was this guy like kirk's school bully ?

Also , " sleep as long as you'd like, I like watching you sleep jimmy boy " starts aggressively licking his lips

Bones was never dead he was just getting bitches

Rich people chuckles

So paramount plus started playing the animated series for some reason and it took me until the end of the first episode to realize that and that, that wasn't just a promotional episode thing for the animated series you know how shows do shit like that if there is two series for the same franchise going on at the same time.

The other episodes are under the cut

The Galileo Seven

A group of the ships crew go to investigate a space anomaly and get stranded

The shuttle is the Galileo Seven by the way that's where the name of the episode comes from

Some guy on the ship is really smug about this

These guys barely fit on the ship when standing up

The guy is a commissioner and has a stick up his ass

"3 of us will have to stay behind if we want to leave this planet to get back to the ship " so 3 people are probably going to die by the end of this episode

Oof there goes person number 1

The crew members are mad at Spock that dead person is dead , even though he definitely was not the person who went " hey go up that foggy mountain "

Everyone gets left behind , there's no more fuel

They fight giant monkey men

Montgomery " let's do some dangerous experimental shit " Scott

60s animal costumes will always be funny

Also person number 2 has died

Spock after finding a dead body :

Giant monkey man attacks shuttle , the crew is mad at Spock for not slaughtering all of the monkey men hours earlier

They electrocute the monkey man

" we've been attacked by the creatures several times now I don't think going outside for burial is the best idea" " man fuck you "

The ship has to leave the shuttle behind or else the commissioner will take over the ship

They got the shuttle into the sky , but used up most of their fuel leaving

They got saved

The fog machine guys must have been out here having a blast

Everyone is fucking with Spock for doing something illogical

"your a stubborn man " " yes sir "

More rich people chuckles

The Squire of Gothos

Sulu and Kirk just disappeared it's supposed to be wtf sort of thing but the way it happened was so funny

" Talleyho "

Why do star fleet officers immediately split up like this is a Scooby Doo episode everytime they get into a brand new place they know nothing about

Villainous medieval piano playing

This guy just sits at his window and looks in a telescope taking notes on earth

But like only know like 1600s shit

I should keep count on the amount of protagonists this show has that have magic and / or telepathic ( or telekinetic) powers

This guy reminds me of a very specific villain from a cartoon I watched as a kid but I don't remember who or what show their from

WOMEN

He teleports himself on the ship , and is threatening Spock for " taking you all away from me "

Rapey vibes but in the I won't acknowledge them because I act like a gentleman so that can't be true sort of way

Bones is going ham on that meal

Glove slap to announce a duel

Hamilton fanboy

This guy's immediate assumption upon learning of Spock is that there is such a close romantic relationship between Jim and Spock that if he threatens Spock, Jim will immediately do what he says and he's right.

The planet was a ship and is now following the enterprise

" murder is supposed to be fun where do you get the fun in hanging me "

The hunt of Jim Kirk for murder gets interrupted by mummy and daddy

This is the best possible ending to this episode I love it , cause it just turns out that he is a baby god that told his parents he was doing homework when he was just fucking with some humans

[shxnnxnchxmbxrs]

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

Katniss thinks Peeta is cheating on her. Pregnancy is fun, huh?

—————

She smells that smell again. It hangs solemnly in the air, mocking her with its presence. It’s perfume.

And it’s not hers.

There’s no need to jump to conclusions, she tells herself. There’s a multitude of different reasons why her husband might be fucking another woman behind her back.

Okay, so she’s already leapt.

Still, there must be a perfectly logical reason behind it. Peeta would never cheat on her, she’s certain. Well, she thinks she’s certain. Now she’s thinking and she’s not that certain at all.

She didn’t think Cato would cheat, but then again that was her simply ignoring her instincts and ignoring the red flags. Looking back, he’d definitely been cheating from the very start and not even trying to hide it.

Douchebag.

But she’d cried in Peeta’s arms that night she found out, and he kissed her so gently, so gently that she felt reborn. The look in his eyes was as if she personally torn out his heart and stamped on it. She imagined her own looked the very same now, finding out the horrors her husband had been up to behind her back.

She knows she’s overreacting, but the vile smell of the rose perfume makes her want to gag all the same. It smells familiar, but she can’t quite place it. That’s when she spots a long, blonde hair on the kitchen worktop. It’s far too long to be Peeta’s, and far too fair to be her own.

This is disastrous. Not only is her darling husband cheating on her, it’s with someone she vaguely knows. And she’s probably a gorgeous blonde too.

Narrows it down, she thinks as she bitterly takes a sip of tea, trying to imagine who the hot blonde could be. It could be Glimmer. In fact, it’s definitely Glimmer. She has long legs, curves where she’s supposed to, and she’s not six months pregnant. She runs a hand over her swollen stomach and is hit with instant nausea that she hasn’t felt in over three months. Glimmer sounds about right.

The front door clicks.

“Hey, I’m back!” Her husband, if she can even call him that, calls from the hallway.

“Hi.”

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look on his face disgusts her. He seems genuinely interested in her well being. Like he fucking cared when he was fucking whoever the fuck she was against the fucking kitchen counter.

“Yes.”

“Don’t believe you. Try again, this time with a smile, please?”

She turns to scowl at him, raising her lips into a faint, sardonic smile. His brow knits together in confusion as he bends down to take off his left shoe. He moves past her slightly to put the shopping bag he held in his hand onto the kitchen counter.

His blonde bimbo probably had her perfect, not pregnant body pressed up against that. Lovely. She’d never eat again.

“Are you okay though, darling?” Don’t call me darling, you adulterer.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?” She scowls, but he takes it as a joke and when he laughs lightly it only infuriates her further.

“It’s not funny Peeta, I know what you’ve been doing!”

“Oh do you now?” He teases. Why can’t he understand that she’s being totally serious?

“I mean it, Peeta, run off to Glimmer and then see if I give a shit! I don’t want to hear excuses just get out of my sight before I poke your eyes out!”

That made him take notice.

“Glimmer?”

“Yes! I figured it out! Thought you could hide it from your dumb and stupid wife, did you? Well, you’d have gotten away with it for a lot longer if she’d not left her ratty hair in the kitchen!”

She huffed and tried to catch her breath. She had never quite seen Peeta so gobsmacked, standing there blinking at her as if she was an exhibit in the museum, or an animal in a zoo.

“Katniss, I haven’t seen her since she left my office building a year before we got together.”

“Oh, so you’ve been sleeping with her for the entire six years we’ve been together then. Hmmm. Is that what you’re telling me?”

He blinks at her dumbly. She almost thinks that she’s gotten it wrong, he can’t possibly have been that much of an arsehole. But then he smirks and she realises she’s hit the nail on the head.

“Oh yeah that’s what’s been going on...” No need for sarcasm you snarky prick, “Katniss, don’t be stupid, I’m in love with you!”

“I’m not being stupid, I’ve just put all the clues together and it makes sense!” He raises an eyebrow at her, and she takes that as her cue to explain, “The rose perfume, we both know it’s not mine I hate the smell of roses, and there was a long blonde hair in the kitchen. Fuck her on my dining table, did we?”

“Katniss, the last time I fucked anyone on our dining table was when that happened!” He points to her stomach, a smug smirk plastered to his face. He knows he’s getting a rise out of her, and he’s even enjoying it. Cheating bastard.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t, babe. Really that plausible I could cheat on you, huh?” He’s moved closer towards her, she thinks he looks slightly wounded by her accusations, but she doesn’t care. She’s right. And she knows it.

“Plausible if it’s true. And it’s true. I know it’s true I worked it out.”

“Someone tell Mystery Incorporated that you’re after their jobs. Sorry Scoob!” He smirks again and she has to fight the urge to not slap it right off of his smug little face.

“It’s not funny.”

“Seems pretty funny to me.” He replies, before adding, “and I’d have gotten away with it if it was for you meddling kids,” under his breath, in the hopes she would only half head him.

Her hearing, it turns out, is impeccable.

“Aha! So you admit it!”

“Katniss, I was just quoting Scooby Doo.”

“No, you just admitted it. So where did you do it then? The kitchen? The bathroom? OUR bedroom? Oh my god, have I slept in our bed after she’s been in there!” She was rambling, as she would when she was nervous. Of course she was fucking nervous, she’d never accused her husband of cheating on her before.

“Will you just calm down?”

Uh oh.

“Katniss, please just calm down and let me actually explain what’s going on so that I can prove to you that I have eyes for no one else. I’ll even prove it to you against the dining table if you want. Just please, calm down and let me talk to you properly.”

Fuck. Now he’d done it.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”

She launched towards him, arms flailing, but he easily grabbed her by both wrists. As she struggled against his iron grip, he swiftly spun her around and pressed her against the closed door, her arms pinned above her head by one hand whilst the other roamed to her waist.

“Don’t touch me.” She protested weakly, already leaning into his hand as he began to caress her jaw gently.

“Are you going to let me explain, or do you want to carry on spitting bullshit theories?”

His voice was low and hoarse and as he whispered into her ear, she felt a tingle jolt happily down her spine.

“It’s not bullshit if I can prove it.”

She was so close to his face now, she could see into his eyes. They were staring at her intently, dark and intense. For a split second she saw a flash of pain cross his pupils, but it was so faint she must have been imagining if.

“I hardly think that Effie’s hair and perfume prove that I’m sleeping with a girl I haven’t seen in seven years.”

“Effie?”

He was lying. Why would her Aunt Effie be here when she wasn’t at home herself?

“So now you want to listen?” And as she nodded he explained in a low voice, still holding her pinned to the door.

“She wanted to do a baby shower for you, darling. But, you know what Effie is like, so that meant it had to be a complete surprise. Which you’ve now ruined by the way, so you best act surprised when it happens.”

She turned to look at him for the first time in a few minutes, and her cheeks flush, embarrassed she could ever think such a thing about her wonderful baker boy. Because truly, that sounded more plausible. Her Aunt Effie was always throwing surprise parties, much to her Uncle Haymitch’s dismay.

She’d been an idiot. It was almost as if Peeta could read into her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’d be feeling pretty stupid if I was you too. But, seen as though I’m a nice husband and all that, I’ll let you off and we can put it down to the baby hormones. Sound like a deal?”

She nodded quickly, and turned away from him again. Her arms were starting to ache from the position he had them in and she wiggled her wrist.

“One more thing. I would never do that to you, you know that, right?” The dark, playful tone has vanished, and he was looking at her so sweetly.

“Yes...”

“You don’t sound too convinced. How can I prove it to you?”

She shot him a look, one she had done some many times before, and he complied just as he had all of those times. He kissed her neck gently, and slowly began to move up towards her jaw. He still hadn’t released her wrists, but she no longer cared.

“Peeta, I’m so sorry.”

“Katniss, there’s no need to apologise. If I was carrying a human inside of me I’d definitely be a bit crazy sometimes. Plus, I don’t mind you being angry at me sometimes.”

“I’ll get angry with you more often then.” She smiled her first genuine smile of the afternoon.

“Good. It’s hot. And the make up sex is always incredible!”

[hairycooterlips69]

Service with a Smile

Howdy y’all, I had a wild hair up my ass to write a fanfic. It’s my first one, be gentle 😅 I’m obsessed with Hawks so I hope I do him proud. Also I was gonna name it Kentucky Fried Fuckin but i don’t wanna be ganked by the Colonel so... Takami Keigo x Fem!Reader

word count : 4k

[ (nsfw 18+) ]  

Warnings: edging, fingering, soft dom/sub, oral sex, nipple play, anal play, choking, unprotected sex

yuhh, get into it~

_______________________________________________

Tonight’s shift couldn’t get any worse.

As you glance at your watch, you internally groan after realizing that you had been on your feet for the last 8 hours stuck behind a cash register. Between some brat spilling juice not once, but twice, on the floor you mopped, a woman berating you for not having any more barbeque sauce, and your closing partner quitting the night before, you were at your wit’s end. Working at a fried chicken shop wasn’t the most glamourous place of employment, but it paid the bills and your quirk did come in handy. Your empathic quirk allowed you to ease the negative emotions of others with the cost of others’ emotions somewhat rubbing off on you. While customers left satisfied and in good spirits, most nights you were left feeling exhausted and impatient. Well at least there’s only 5 minutes until close, you contemplate, mentally preparing yourself to clean and lock up the store.

Lost in thoughts, you hear a soft jingling and the thudding of boots against the tiled floor. “Heyo~, are you guys still open?” The first thing you notice about this customer is his ruby-red wings. Upon further inspection, you see that he is wearing a black body suit, beige pants, and a fur-trimmed coat accessorized with protective glasses and headgear, along with some pompous, feathery hairstyle. You felt as if this person was familiar. I mean, how could you not recognize a guy with massive birdlike appendages? You must have seen him somewhere, maybe around the city or at a bar. Or maybe you’ve seen him at the park, or maybe at the –

“Uh, hello. Earth to Y/N. Sorry for coming in so late, but I’ve been patrolling the area tonight and it seemed like this place was still open. I get pretty hungry around this time. Will you be able to serve me?” You snap back to reality, your cheeks tinged in embarrassment. “How do you know my name? D-do I know you?” you stammer. “Well, I read your nametag. But if you want to get to know me, you most certainly can, kid.” he quipped cheekily. What an ass. Your embarrassment quickly turned into annoyance, but you swallowed your pride and politely responded “yes sir, we are still open. How can I help you?” “Sir? I like that. Well, you can start me off with a four-piece meal and a soda, and after I’m done eating you can help me by giving me your number.” You audibly gasp, astounded at the audacity of this honey-haired jerk. Without a word, you quickly turned on your heels to put together the combo and get away from this man.

He must have noticed how upset you were as you placed his food on the counter rather abruptly. His expression softened from a cocky grin to a repentant half-smile. “I apologize if I’ve offended you. It’s just that I get pretty bored protecting the city and lurking on top of buildings. It’s nice to have some human contact, even if it’s teasing the cutie working at a fried chicken shop.” If you weren’t already flustered before, your face blushed crimson red yet again. Without the arrogance, you notice that this stranger was cherubically handsome, donning bushy blonde eyebrows, golden, catlike eyes, and the beginnings of scruffy facial hair. He must have been around your age or maybe a couple years older. You could tell that he was in almost, if not completely, perfect physical shape by the way his body suit hugged his chest. You hated to admit it, but his flirting was actually coaxing you out of your previously terrible mood. You manually willed yourself to reply, retorting “yeah, well don’t vigilantes like you have anything better to do than harassing a stranger while at work?” “Ouch, kid. A vigilante? Try number-two Pro Hero. I guess that’s what I get for coming in so late and giving you a tough time. I go by Hawks, but the name is Takami Keigo. But, I prefer if you call me yours for the evening.” At this point you couldn’t help but laugh at his boldness. After catching your breath, you responded “Alright Big Bird, enjoy your meal. Just please don’t leave too much of a mess, I already have to wait for you to finish so I can clean up and get the hell out of here.” For a split second, you saw his face twitch in an unreadable manner before his switching back to seasoned professionality. “Ah, of course. I won’t be too long. Thank you again y/n for the food. I’m sure it will be delicious.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the table and sat down, wings folding flat to his back as he prepared to dig in. You watched him as he removed his gloves, finger by finger. You couldn’t help but notice how long and graceful they were. Carefully, he teared apart slivers of each piece of chicken before bringing the greasy bits to his mouth. As he prepared his food, he would often glance up at you only to avoid your eyes and look back down at his food. What was with those looks he keeps giving me? It was almost like I angered him, or got offended by what I said, you mused to yourself. I’ll just activate my quirk. That way if he’s pissed, I can smooth things over. I don’t need to be bitched at by the manager again. With slight concentration, you activated your quirk. Suddenly you could feel what he felt – hunger. Besides this, there was another feeling. Similar to hunger, combined with a dull, growing ache. It almost felt like – yearning? Or something more? Once realizing the feeling, you quickly ducked your head. This bastard was aroused! You felt conflicted. He must be feeling confused by what I said to him, but also… I think he enjoyed it? You begin to feel a warming sensation in your midsection. Damnit, I think he is aroused. I’m starting to feel it too. Why would a Pro Hero be interested in someone who’s been covered in grease and sweat all day? You start to feel a little self-conscious at this point. There was no way that he couldn’t smell all the herbs and spices permeating off your overworked body. I smell like the deep fryer and I’m starting to thirst over some big-shot hero. I need to distract myself. “Hey, Hawks? If it’s alright with you, I’m gonna start cleaning up a bit.”

Hawks barely glanced at you as he responded “sure kid, do what you need to do. Don’t stop on my account.” You grabbed a rag and started to wipe down the tables with practiced ease. You closed on most nights and were able to get the store tidied up within 30 minutes or so. This night was different though, and you were somewhat nervous doing your nightly tasks as Hawks observed your work. When your back was turned, you could still sense eyes on you along with the steadily growing ache emitting from the Pro Hero and your own growing desire welling from within your body. Shit, the fact that he’s turned on right now is insane. I guess it is a compliment, he’s hot as hell. I actually kind of like it, you admitted to yourself. This realization combined with your quirk stirred up your own desire of being touched, and the growing warmth of arousal spread through your body like a slow burn. The more you attempted to distract yourself by sweeping the floor and wiping down tables, the deeper this yearning grew. Your watch indicated that it was definitely past the time you normally locked up and left. Fuck, I’m super turned on. What’s with him? And what’s up with me? You decide that you would quash this feeling right then and there. “Hey Hawks, are you okay? Cuz it’s getting late and I-“

As you turned around, you saw the Pro Hero had been standing a few feet behind you, wings fluttering rhythmically to the beat of his pulse. “You know, no one’s ever insulted me like that before and yeah, kid, it was cute, but it was also incredibly rude.” Before you could react, Hawks reached up and grazed the left side of your face with his right hand. “Now, how are you going to make it up to me?”

“I, uh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just-“

“Just what?”

“I can feel you. I mean, I can feel what you feel, that’s my quirk and obviously you didn’t know that but I’m sensing that you’re-“

“You can sense how I feel, at this moment? Tell me, kid. Let’s see how accurate that quirk of yours is.”

“Well, um… earlier after I called you Big Bird and I got a vibe that you were annoyed but also intrigued? Also, uh – when you were eating and I was cleaning up, I kind of got the feeling that you were interested… in that way.”

“’That way?’ And what way would that be?”

You could tell that Hawks took pleasure in watching you squirm and shade brighter than his pinions. “That way. You know, an… intimate sort of feeling.”

You flinched, expecting Hawks to jerk his hand away from you and walk off in disgust. Instead, a sly, borderline wicked grin began to spread across his face. “Now that’s an impressive quirk. What if I told you that you were correct in that I am turned on by you? In fact, the more I watch you, the more I want to touch every single part of your body and own that delicious ass of yours.” He stepped closer, inches away from you, and began to trail his hand from your cheek down to the nape of your neck. You barely registered Hawks’ wings spreading out and almost immersing the two of you. “You can feel what I feel, right? So that can only mean that you want me almost as badly as I want you. If you let me, I’ll be more than happy to satisfy us both.” Hawks must have misread the look of disbelief slapped across your face. He backtracked, “Was that too far, kid?”

“N-no. Keep going. I want this.”

You had barely finished your sentence when the pro hero lunged forward, pushing his lips against your own with the urgency of a rabid animal. You quickly returned his kiss with equal hunger, pressing back against the soft, inviting landscape of his mouth. Lip-locked and frenzied, you felt him slowly run his hands down the side of your body and onto your hips, grasping them so intensely you felt his nails dig into your skin sending small shocks of pleasure directly to your core. You unconsciously leaned your hips toward, your body responding to the sensation building within your intimacy. You felt the pressure of Hawks’ reciprocating excitement against your leg as he moaned at the growing constraint between his manhood and his uniform.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re up for this? Because I can’t hold back much longer. I would cut my wings off just to flip you onto that counter and ram the shit out of you until you beg me to stop making you cum.”

“Hawks-“

“Call me Keigo, fuck. Call me Keigo, I want to hear you scream my name at the top of your lungs.”

“Keigo, shut the hell up and do what you said. Please just fuck me already.”

He practically flung you across the store, wrapping you up in a tight, muscular embrace with his vibrant, elongated wings beating erratically. Hawks placed you on the counter rather gently, attaching himself to your mouth again. You could feel his tongue softly graze your bottom lip in an attempt to explore you. Ever so slightly, your lips parted to meet his tongue in a battle for dominance. Hawks eventually overpowered you, and you could slightly taste the remnants of his meal as he ran his tongue vertically against the sinew of your cheeks. While Hawks commanded your mouth, you used your knee to tease and stimulate his aching member, pre-cum threatening to bleed through his pants. “Hrrnh, y/n. My cock is practically begging for you,” he groaned. You responded, “for someone who wants to fuck me senseless, you sure are taking your sweet ass time.”

Charged by your smart remark, he pulled away from your lips to focus on his next mission: undressing you before you could even open your mouth to land some other sarcastic comment. With surprising dexterity, he peeled off your shirt and pants while you worked on unclasping your bra. Keigo paused to admire your bare chest. “God y/n, as if you weren’t already looking like a five-course meal. I just might have to devour you until there’s nothing left.” Before you could come up with another response, Hawks enveloped his eager mouth to your right nipple while reaching to attend to your left bud. He began to suck rhythmically as if attuned to your wildly beating heart, lazily switching from massaging your left nipple between his graceful fingers to rubbing it in a clockwise fashion. You groaned animalistically into his ear, clenching your vaginal muscles and grinding your heat against the corner of the counter in desperation.

“Keigo, stop fucking teasing me. Please do something, you’re driving me crazy.”

Obliging, Hawks abandoned your left nipple to pull your drenched panties to one side of your private area. “Jeez, kid, you’re practically drooling down there. I wonder how wet for me you’ll get once I stick my fingers inside that pretty pussy.” Something about the snarky comment sent you over the edge. It was as if something inside your brain snapped, and the need to control this bird-brained asshole overtook you. Oh, I’m gonna give this fucker a show, you mused. You grabbed Keigo’s wrist and shoved it directly inside your clenched hole, violently abusing his fingers akin to a human dildo to escalate your pleasure. Hawks’ mouth practically dropped to the floor, his gaze shifting frantically from you using him as your fuck toy to the canvas of your naked body.

“Holy fuck, kid. That’s so goddamn hot. You really are such a slut, fucking yourself with my own hand. God, y/n. I want to be inside you so fucking bad.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you huffed. “Now take off your clothes while you watch me play with myself.”

You grabbed his wrist again to remove his fingers, replacing them with your own to appease the gnawing desire. “Don’t look away from me, Keigo. Make direct eye contact, or I’ll kick your ass out of here with nothing but a pulsating cock and a hope for a wet dream about me.” Hawks quickly stripped down to his boxers, awaiting eagerly for your next demand. You could see the evident staining where the fabric was constricting his shaft. “Such an obedient pigeon,” you purred. “Now stroke your cock slowly like the good little bird boy you are.” His right hand began to slip down the band of his tightening boxers. “Ah-ah-ah, I said to take off your clothes. I didn’t say you could take it out and touch it. Now I’ll allow you to jerk it outside of your boxers.”

“Fuck, kid. Who the hell are you talking to like that? I don’t like that bratty ass attitude you have. I may just have to sh-”

You interrupted his monologue to jump off the counter and engulf his clothed manhood as deeply as your throat would allow. Even as it threatened to touch the back of your esophagus, you could see that you weren’t able to completely fill it with your mouth. You worked quickly to moisten his stiff cock. He moaned and grabbed the base of your head as you proceeded to bob back and forth, driving him insane by your refusal to let him be in charge.

“You filthy whore. If you’re gonna suck me off at least do it properly.” Hawks was growing feral with desire to feel your slobbery mouth on the skin of his member. “I guess you have been a good birdie. Here, I’ll make this easier for you.” You removed him from your mouth long enough to yank down his underwear and return to his massive source of heat. You grabbed Keigo’s cockhead and placed it strategically between your lips, outlining the contours of your mouth and using his wetness as a lipliner. “Fuuuck, you are so good, so good to me baby bird,” he whimpered pathetically before taking him inside your mouth once again. You continued to pleasure him with an absurd amount of oral pressure and saliva which began to leak out the corners of your lips. After a couple minutes of sucking him off, you felt him start to quiver. “Ungh, y/n. I’m about to cum.”

You immediately pulled away. There was no way in hell Hawks was going to come in the store and take up your time without getting you off. “It’s my turn now Keigo. You talked all that shit and now I want to see what you can do. I doubt you’ll be able to get me to cum.” As you planned, this lit a fire under Takami’s ass to drill you harder than an army sergeant. Without a word, Hawks yanked you up from the roots of your hair, shredded off your panties, and proceeded to flip you on top of the counter with your dripping cunt exposed in the air.

“You’ll regret you said that. You’re about to sing my name until your pussy screams and it’ll be music to my ears. I’m gonna make you my dirty little songbird bitch.”

Your heart was racing as you were sprawled out on the counter, your most intimate parts displayed for Hawks’ viewing. You began to turn your head to face him when you felt a strong grip on the base of your scalp again. “I didn’t say you could look at me. Now turn back around or I’ll leave you with a sopping cunt and a hope for a wet dream,” Hawks mimicked. You regretted being so saucy with him before; he now had the upper hand but at the same time, you felt a wicked delight at what was in store. You could feel him tracing the outer folds of your womanhood meticulously and painfully slow before sliding upwards to reach the sensitive skin on your asshole. You involuntarily twitched as he touched this spot, not used to this area being so vulnerable. “It looks like I found your weak spot, baby bird. I think it’s time to show you what happens to bratty bitches who talk so impolitely to me.” You heard a soft whoosh from behind you, similar to a sailing dart. You gasped in shock as you felt the tip of a feather tickling your rim as two fingers began to penetrate the saturation built up in your twinging cunt. Hawks continued this assault as he began to fist his own member using the slick he swiped from your saturated hole, picking up speed to pump synchronously with his digits. “Shit, y/n. I can’t hold out much longer, your slutty pussy is soaking my hand. I want to feel how wet you are. Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fill you with my cum?”

“Keigo, PLEASE! Please fuck me, I can’t take this anymore, ahh-. I’m begging you, I want you to stuff me with your fat cock.”  

Hawks countered your begging by shoving his length into your sopping cavern. You cried out with a mixture of surprise and pain as he began to pump into you with determination. You could feel your walls clamp down on his manhood as he massaged your insides. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but to moan, your mind succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure you felt in your overheating pussy. Hawks felt like absolute nirvana, reaching parts of you that had not been touched in a very long time. He continued his strides in an exaggerated manner, ensuring that you felt every single inch of him from the base all the way to his engorged cockhead. Your wails of satisfaction began to match the reverberation of Keigo’s swollen balls slapping against your perineum, applauding the unification of two strangers and their primitive needs.  “I told you, baby bird. I knew my cock would drive you insane. Who’s your owner now? Tell me, huh? I want you to say it, to scream it at the top of your lungs. Who’s fucking up this tight cunt, yeah? Who’s filling this slutty little hole of yours, songbird?”

“You are, Keigo, fuck. Fuck the shit out of me, please. Keep ramming my pussy, baby. I’m you-” He cut off your anguished whines by shoving his fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste your own slick mixed with the flavors of his earlier meal. “Y/N, you sure are talkative for someone who can barely handle a cock inside her. Is papa bird too big for you to handle?”

“Hu-hrd-rr!”

“What was that, filthy girl? You’re mumbling.”

Hawks began to hammer into you, his breathing becoming ragged; the way you took such brutal pounding threatened to buckle his knees. He took his fingers out of your mouth so you could scream “I said, HARDER, you bastard!” You couldn’t help but to whine as he continued to fill your ears with lewd comments and grunts, his rhythm beginning to slightly falter with each clench as he fought to reach your cervix. You attempted to regain regularity in your breathing to no avail.

“Aah, aah, fuck Keigo. This is your pussy, don’t stop. Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Shit baby bird, you’re so fucking tight it hurts. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you with all my seed. You’re gonna be begging for my cock from now on out and I’ll make sure to give it to you every night. Now cum for me, baby. Sing me a song, songbird. I wanna hear you fucking say whose cock is claiming your pussy!” The screech you let out was inhumane, your legs shaking savagely as a deep, almost painful orgasm rippled from your center. The lilt of your voice sent Hawks into a frenzy, his thrusts becoming unstable and jolting as he moaned your name. You saw Hawks’ eyes begin to glaze over and saw your opportunity to attack. You turned to reach for his throat and pressed firmly with your thumb and index finger with just enough pressure to surprise him, cutting him off mid-groan. “Awhk, f-feels sh-so good. Almost th-there.” You wrapped your legs around Takami’s hips and squeezed as tightly as possible, leaving the pro hero no choice but to release himself inside you, hips bucking as his load emptied in rivets.  

“Ahh shit, y/n. I meant to pull out. I should’ve asked you first.” He sighed as he slowly removed himself from you. You both watched his fatigued member leave your orifice covered in the combination of juices. “Well normally when people order food here, they don’t end up balls deep in me so…” you retorted. Hawks chuckled, a dash of pink beginning to spread on his cheeks. “Well pro heroes don’t normally meet such gorgeous and smart-ass chicks working at fried chicken shops.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. You weren’t immune to his charm, and you were wondering what just transpired. Hawks searched for a clean towel and began to wipe you off, erasing evidence of the night’s events. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you offered as you both began to redress yourselves. You hoped deeply you would see him again someday, even if it was just to order food. Hawks planted a soft kiss on your cheek, then asked “when’s your next day off, y/n?” You sighed lightly, “I actually have the next day off. Thank All Might, I’m exhausted.”

Hawks smiled, ruffled your hair, and replied “hope you’re not too exhausted. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to take you out on a proper date. I know this great little place that sells the best chicken.”  

[piceuscelus]

oops have some more fucktoy ciri verse, this time with branding! sooo the usual noncon, body mod via hot iron branding, mind control, sex slavery, underage, daddy kink, any of the usual warnings on the verse i’ve forgotten,

also on ao3!

It’s Lambert who suggests it, one day while Vesemir is fiddling with the old brands still sitting in the armory, from the days when Kaer Morhen had herds of cattle and other livestock. 

“We should mark her,” he says. “Permanently.”

“With what?” Eskel asks, before he looks over to Vesemir. “Those?”

Lambert nods, then shrugs. “Or others, we have what we need to make more, don’t we?”

Eskel hums. “What do you think, Geralt?”

He hums right back, thinking for a moment. Ciri is in the dining room currently, entertaining Coën; he can just hear the sounds of skin slapping skin and Ciri whimpering desperately, half-pained. He thinks about all that smooth, blemish-free skin they all love to bruise and mark, and the idea of something permanent….

“Yes,” he nods. “Yeah, we should.”

– – – – – 

They decide to use one of the old Kaer Morhen brands, specifically the one they used on the bitches marked for breeding, but also make some new ones, too. The process of making the new brands takes about two weeks, and meanwhile they get all of the use out of Ciri they possibly can.

Sure, her pain isn’t of much concern, but they don’t want to deal with any of the brands getting infected.

The night before they plan to brand her, they put her up on the bench after dinner. She’s eager for it, even without any of the usual potions, squirming against the bonds as she’s tied and begging prettily to be used.

“We’ll use you, little slut, be patient,” Lambert snaps when she asks for him specifically, and Coën follows the words up with a harsh slap to Ciri’s backside, leaving a livid red handprint. Tears spring to her eyes but she doesn’t beg any further, just makes a weak, wanting little noise, still squirming against her ties. 

“Be good, Ciri,” Geralt orders, and she makes another meek little noise.

“I will, Daddy, I’ll be good, sorry,” she says softly, and he reaches over to pet over her hair in approval.

Lambert finishes up with getting her strapped to the bench, and his hand joins Geralt’s in her hair, but he grips harshly and pulls, making the tears spill over. “Needy little brat,” he hisses. “Beg me to fuck your throat.”

“Please fuck my throat, sir,” Ciri gasps immediately, still with tears streaking down her face as Lambert doesn’t relent on the grip in her hair. Geralt – and the others – settle back into their seats to watch. “Please, want your cock so badly, please give it to me – I’ll be good, please fuck my throat, sir, please?”

Lambert huffs. “Not half bad,” he says, about as close to praising Ciri as he ever gets, and finally lets go of her hair. She doesn’t drop her head, though, just opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, practically a welcome mat, and that makes Lambert laugh. 

“Nasty little whore, you really are desperate for it, already drooling.” He pulls his cock out of his breeches and rubs the head of it over her tongue, laughing again when she makes a needy noise and tries to surge forward to suck at him. It’s futile, with the straps keeping her immobile on the bench, but it’s fun to watch her struggle, and Lambert lets her try for several minutes, just teasing her with rubbing his cockhead over her tongue, her lips.

Eventually, though, he gets bored with that and steps forward, rolling his hips so his cock pops right into Ciri’s throat. She chokes and gags violently, the bench rattling with how hard she convulses; Lambert just groans.

“Gods, yeah, just like that, keep your throat nice and tight,” he mutters, rocking his hips.

It doesn’t take long for Ciri to turn red, and then near purple, and only when her head starts to wobble does Lambert pull back enough to let her breathe properly.

“Thank you, sir,” she chokes out around heaving gasps, “please, please want your cock again, thank you, please fuck my throat – ”

Lambert just grunts and fucks back into her mouth. At this point, Geralt has pulled his cock out of his breeches to stroke, and so has Eskel. After a bit longer of listening to her gag and convulse, though, apparently Coën is tired of waiting; he steps up, breeches already gone, and sets to fucking his cock into her ass. He never preps her, not after that first time, just uses a ton of lube – according to him, it’s the only way she’s tight enough to enjoy. Ciri sobs when he says it, but begs for him to fuck her sore every time.

Ciri screams, at least the best she can around Lambert’s cock in her throat; Coën and Lambert just laugh and keep moving. Geralt has to swallow back a flood of drool at the thought of how sore and used she’ll be tomorrow, how loud she’ll scream and cry when they brand her – how pretty she’ll sound when he makes her come with each brand.

They spend the rest of the night fucking her, until all of her holes are gaping and she’s cross-eyed, nearly unconscious from the amount of times she’s been fucked straight through several orgasms in a row. She’s still drooling and mumbling thanks and pleas when they plug her up to keep their cum inside and put her to bed.

– – – – –

The next morning, Vesemir is the one to get her out of bed and take her down to the dungeons. She goes obediently and without question, as usual, and Geralt tries to ignore the way his cock throbs at the wide-eyed, trusting look she gives all of them when they crowd into the room with her.

“Arms up,” he orders, and she puts her arms up immediately, looking up at him when he comes near. He can’t resist kissing her, petting a hand down her front to feel the way her belly is still bulging from their cum and the plugs. She hisses, tears welling up at the shifting, but just bites her lip and looks at him, arms still held in the air.

“Good girl,” he praises, and she beams. He steps aside to grab the chains that Vesemir already set up, and pulls her wrists up a little further to lock them into the manacles. It leaves her balanced on her tiptoes, wobbling a little, and he swats at her ass just to see her flail and hear her squeak.

Eskel gets her feet chained, leaving her entirely suspended with her legs spread. She looks a little afraid, at that point, but when Geralt pets over her hair and whispers, “Be a good girl,” in her ear, she nods.

“I will, Daddy,” she says, and then, when Lambert snorts, “I will, sir, I’ll be good.”

“Mhm,” Lambert nods, intentionally doubting. Geralt chuckles when Ciri huffs, but when she opens her mouth to protest he stops her with a mean pinch and twist to her nipples.

She cries out and thrashes for a split second before settling when he lets go. “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

Eskel steps up to her front, so she’s essentially pinned between he and Geralt, and puts a hand over her cunt, making her gasp. 

“You’ll get a reward if you are,” he promises, and from the way Ciri shudders and her head lolls, he presses at the pugs keeping her stuffed.

“Yes, sir, thank you sir, please, I’ll be good.”

The two of them step away, Geralt with one last nipping kiss to Ciri’s throat and Eskel with a mean flick to her already-swollen clit, and Vesemir lights the fire in the makeshift oven he built in the corner. He goes first, once the original breeding bitch iron is hot, stepping in front of Ciri and, ignoring her frightened squeaking, carefully pressing the metal just above her cunt, right over her womb.

She screeches, shrill and piercing, and Eskel is quick with Axii. 

“Come.”

She screams again, pleasure this time as she gushes all over the floor. “Th-thank you,” she stammers when she’s done and Vesemir has pulled the brand away, leaving an angry red burn that clearly marks her as one of Kaer Morhen’s breeding bitches.

Geralt spares a momentary thought to getting some hunting dogs again, just so they can let the mutts knot Ciri, but pushes it aside for later. 

Coën and Lambert go next, both at the same time, marking her inner thighs on each side. Her entire body jerks and convulses with the pain, but Eskel’s Axii is strong, and when he orders her to come again, she does with a reedy whine, panting like some kind of overtaxed animal. 

Since Eskel is maintaining the Axii, Geralt goes after Coën and Lambert. His brand is the biggest of them, though none of them are particularly large.

“Look at me, Ciri,” he orders, and she does, eyes hazy but on him, mouth open and spilling drool and a little blood where she must have bitten her cheek or tongue. “You’re mine, aren’t you? And ours.”

“Yes, yes,” she slurs, nodding. “Yours, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” 

He presses his brand right below her throat, on her collar and just slightly between her perky tits. Her voice gives out on the scream she gives at the pain of it, but she’s whispering a hoarse, “Thank you,” before Eskel even makes her come.

When the Axii drops, she sobs, thrashing in the chains, but Geralt puts her under again quickly, making soothing noises.

“You feel so good, don’t you, Ciri?” he asks. “Everything feels so good.”

He watches as his will overtakes her own, her face falling slack, and his cock throbs. He’ll have to take care of himself until all their brands are healed, but that’s fine. She sleeps in his room; he’ll be able to look at her, and see the brands when he changes her bandages, and hear her sweet, hurt little noises. It’ll be plenty of fodder for him to jerk off to – and besides, he can feed her his cum off of his fingers without risking her healing.

Eskel is last, and he circles around to her back, placing his brand just above her ass. Thanks to Geralt’s control, she comes without even being ordered, feeling even intense pain as pleasure now, and he’s not the only one who groans desperately about it.

“Good girl,” he praises, carefully holding her up as Lambert and Vesemir unshackle her. “Such a perfect little toy, Ciri, and all ours.”

“Y-yours,” she slurs, voice shattered, and passes out.

also in the work on ao3!