#I need some of those goggles…

[smellroy]

Noticed these goggles around Tozer’s neck but can’t remember a scene with him wearing them

[darlingamidala]

man, i’m watching AotC and it just occurred to me that Palpatine could have arranged for Anakin and Padme to be reunited at literally any point during the ten years since TPM, but since he didn’t, that means he probably would have been deliberately preventing them from running into each other

[threeunrelateddescriptors]

Applying lots of body lotion to the area also helps slide tiny embedded fibers out and helps keep them from re-embedding before your next shower.

We need to stop engineering blatantly stupid materials

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[daydreamerdrew]

The Bill Everett Archives vol. 2, reprinting a story from Amazing Mystery Funnies (1939) #3

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[misswynters]

Getting married to ekko

short drabble

requested by anon

There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.

In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasn’t traditional, it couldn’t be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.

Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his best—a patched-up jacket you’d once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.

Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. “Alright, settle down!” he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. “We’re here for somethin’ special tonight. None of your usual fightin’ or stealin’, this is about family.”

The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekko’s gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Scar cleared his throat dramatically. “Now, I ain’t exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when you’ve got love, right?” The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. “So, let’s get to it. You two got somethin’ to say?”

Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. “I never thought I’d get to have somethin’ like this,” he began. “Not here, You—you’ve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. You’re my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when it’s too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll always fight for us.”

You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words you’d wanted to say fought to escape. “Aww!,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, there’s beauty worth fighting for. You’ve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. I’m yours, forever.”

The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. “Hold on, hold on! We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring he’d made.

It wasn’t like any ring you’d ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the band—tiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekko’s work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.

“You made this?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.

“Course I did,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “Nothing else felt good enough for you.”

Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s it! You’re officially stuck with each other.”

Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.

The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.

Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Might be?”

“Okay, fine. Is the best day,” he admitted, his grin softening.

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. “Hey,” he said, his tone still soft. “Can’t believe we are official married now!”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Unreal that i can officially call you my husband.”

For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.

note. if there’s any mistakes let me know!

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugō Katsuki: Engineer

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.5k, fluff, a little violence.

• Being a talented inventor meant your skills were sought by many (both good and bad), but then you catch the attention of Dynamight.

Warnings: Cursing, violence, mention of weapons, post time skip.

>>>>——————————>

"You can't be serious Bakugō-san."

The pro snapped to his trusty assistant, raising an expectant brow when replying like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You said they're the best. That's who I want for my agency."

"Yes but—"

"But nothing! Do you know where I can find them?"

"Everyone who has tried has been refused. Their infamous talent has been sought by heroes, big companies, and even villainous characters... All of whom failed to hire them."

"’Cause I haven't asked yet."

"Bakugō-san, I know there's no convincing you otherwise but, I'd recommend having other options available at least."

True to his assistants' warnings, you were no easy recruit, all his efforts at communication were futile. Emails? Calls? Letters? You hadn't replied to any of his professional outreach methods and he suspected this was a common occurrence for you.

Fine then, he'd turn up the heat. Your workshop address wasn't a secret to those with connections and Bakugō wasn't one to give up without a fight. Literally, if need be.

———

It was a perplexing thing in the middle of nowhere, your workshop. A metal-like building heavily lined with obscure defensive weaponry as well as having access to your own personal scrapyard it seemed. But it was yours. A rumoured mechanical talent for crafting hero gear and inventions, one that drew attention from far and wide. However you were content in your independence, it was less hassle this way you'd hoped.

Alas, the confident banging on the metal entrance doors with conviction was far from unusual.

"I told ya, I don't—" You paused once sliding open the door and taking a look at your visitor, lifting your goggles and shifting to a smile. "Haven't seen you at my door before."

"Since ya didn't answer my calls or mail, I don't have a choice." The man seethed through gritted teeth, trying to be more 'accommodating' like advised.

"Oh? Which one are you again?" Your gaze flicked to a pile of (some charred) letters in a nearby bin, smile growing more smug by the second.

"Bakugō Katsuki. You might know me as Dynamight though."

"Yeah you're fun. I like you." You smirked proudly, honesty and bemusement present. "The way you yell at people resonates with me."

The man rolled his eyes with scoffing sound, choosing not to say anything rambunctious enough to have you slam the door in his face - still, he was surprised when you welcomed him in.

"Tch. S'pose you know why I'm here then."

"You, and many others. Had Lemillion here last month, least he bought me a welcome basket with cake and such." You joked, easing the caution the blonde seemed to be upholding around you with his natural personality showing.

"Tch, ain't gonna get you none of that crap unless you start working with me. I did bring something useful though because I'm better than the other extras you've dealt with." He held out a bag, one you quizzically explored to find a peculiar item to win one over with.

"A spanner...?"

It wasn't just a spanner, it was one of the newest, top of the grade, multi tool sets crafted by one of the big brands. Thoughtful. Very thoughtful actually...

"I appreciate it, but I can't accept something this expensive. Especially when I'm going to decline your offer."

"S'fine. It's a gift, but if you feel that guilty about it then you can fix my gauntlets." Bakugō justified rather abruptly, shoving the bag into your arms to ensure you took it.

"Alright. That sounds fair."

"I'll grab 'em from my car, get your shit ready."

That afternoon, you sat beside Katsuki as he talked you through the technicalities of his weaponry whilst you worked on them together. All the while diverting onto conversation tangents and making drinks mid way, he demonstrated his quirk - tiny sparkles of explosive lighting up his hand.

"They're pretty, your explosions."

"They’re deadly— I don't— shut up nerd!" He dismissed you briskly, turning away with an irritated growl.

———

Fixing his gear would be the first and last time you'd see Bakugō in person you assumed, considering you declined his job proposition and all.

So when you received another bout of rapid banging on metal the following week, you were surprised to find a smirking Dynamight rather than another recruiter.

"Shocked to see me or something?"

"Well I— yeah. Figured you'd take my refusal and go."

"Nah you did a good job with my gauntlets, wanted to see what else you're up to." Dynamight flexed his wrist for example, openly pleased with his gauntlets but seemed more so by your genuine reaction.

"Oh really?" You sounded truly perplexed, but also excited to share your work with someone. "Sure, I'll show you my latest ideas!"

Bakugō stayed a while, a couple of hours discussing applications for your inventions and inquiring as to whether there were any materials you were unable to obtain recently. Then it moved on to his occupation, his agency, and then to trivial matters such as popular restaurants around town.

“So, wanna join my agency yet?” The blonde threw over his shoulder on his way out of the door.

“No Dynamight, but thank you for asking and visiting.”

“Fine nerd. I’ll be back then.”

Now you didn’t believe that for a second when he slammed the door behind him, and you felt like he’d only asked for the sake of it - fully expecting you to say no. However, if he did decide to visit again, you wouldn’t be mad about it you concluded.

———

Unfortunately, your next set of individuals weren’t so welcomed. You’d seen them multiple times previously, each visit coming with its increase of pressure to work exclusively for them. A dealer who specialised in exporting weaponry to villains on the black market, they had both the money and power to pose either a threat or a reward. Except, your constant refusals had only fuelled their growing impatience which led them crashing down your door tonight with violence in their wake.

"C'mon (L/n), I came here personally just to hire you. We'll certainly pay you well enough~" The dealer slammed you into the wall, digits digging so deeply into your neck you barely managed a disgruntled wretch.

"I'll neve— ever work— for you assholes!"

"Too bad, the consequence for that is death y’know." You were slung across the floor, a gasp for breath futile when he aimed his pistol at your heart. "Want to reconsider yet?"

"Fuck you."

The gun safety clicked off, one of the henchman's quirks keeping you painfully immobile. If these were your final moments you were furious you hadn't completed your latest invention, maybe a little irritated you hadn't hit the code red before you were taken over by a damn quirk. You avoided pledging alliances to avoid this bullshit! You didn't work for any competitors, you weren't in the line of fire for sharing information, but now you can't even refuse work without getting caught in a crime web?! Society and talent is a sh—

Then an ear splitting bang echoed in the facility, dust clouds and debris forcing through the room like a tidal wave, leaving two intruders knocked out and the remainder covering their faces and yelling confused curses. That's when you saw sparks of light, a familiar explosion you had the privilege of seeing in person only once before.

He came back.

"That's why they call me Great Explosion Murder God!" He grinned menacingly, teeth bared like a predator with a dangerous glint in those crimson eyes. Sparks and smoke danced around him, the hero lowering both his stance and voice when he spoke what sounded like a protective threat.

"Now get away from my agency's' new engineer."

Oddly you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you'd narrowed that down to the whole situation being an absolute bombshell. You watched as Dynamight immobilised them effortlessly, the quirk being lifted allowing you to utilise your inventions - mechanised laser snipers pointed at the foreheads of your unwanted company, all programmed to fire with a snap of your fingers.

"Couldn't have done that sooner nerd?" The hero shot back to you tauntingly, but you didn’t miss how his gaze flared up at the sight of bruising on your neck when he’d scanned you for injury.

"Then you'd be out of a job, hero."

It took no longer than ten minutes for the authorities to arrive, during that time Dynamight had retrieved any information he’d wanted. As well as issuing basic first aid to you contrastingly softly in comparison to the deathly interrogation the dealer experienced.

You’d be taken to hospital for a check of course, (Bakugō personally walking you to your escort since he couldn’t drive you himself right now) but before you bid farewell you had a burning question.

"When can I start?"

"Hah?" Came his classic recall, snapping to you with a look of angry curiosity.

"You called me your engineer, I was wondering when that begins." Your voice was quieter now, but upon realising Katsuki seemed a little embarrassed with hand rubbing his neck and honest answer spilled.

"It's your choice, but I figured saying that would get others off your back when word gets around. You'd be left in peace for a while to continue your work."

"And if I want to work with you, when would you want me at the agency?

"All the time." Just as quickly as he spoke, he realised his lack of hesitance, awkwardly huffing and rephrasing all in one. "I'll send over a contract, you can move stuff into the lab if you like the terms."

"Then I look forward to working with you, boss." Gladly, you held out your hand to him, pleased smirk plastered on your features.

"Call me Katsuki." He shook your hand, victorious grin in play. "And the pleasure’s all mine."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[remmys]

🎃 TFTOBER 2024 !!

Hey there!! I really wanted to participate in an October prompt list, but seeing as I've been really hooked on TF2 for this entire year, I figured it would be fun to do a TF2 themed list!!

If you participate, feel free to tag your posts w/ #tftober !!! I'd love to see what other people do <3 This list should be perfectly doable for any medium (art, writing, sfm, etc!)

Below the cut is a list of all the prompts with some extra flavor text/ideas! Things are kept vague in a typical drawing prompt fashion

DAY 1 - Main

Who's your main? Who do you play most often?

DAY 2 - Hats!

It's not called a glorified hat simulator for nothing! There's plenty of cosmetics at your fingertips in the game!

DAY 3 - Relationships

Everyone knows someone. Whether it's a family member, a friend, a lover, or even an arch nemesis!

DAY 4 - Pyrovision

Put on the goggles and take a look at things with a new perspective!

DAY 5 - Battlefield

Probably where a mercenary spends most of their time

DAY 6 - On Break

Battles don't rage on forever. You've gotta take a break eventually

DAY 7 - Offense

The front lines. The moving force

DAY 8 - Defense

The back lines. Makes sure nobody gets too far

DAY 9 - Support

Everything in between! Perhaps even the foundations of some teams

DAY 10 - Teamwork

It's not called TEAM Fortress for nothing, right?

DAY 11 - Fem Fortress

Happy Friday! Give some love to the girls!

DAY 12 - Free Space

Draw, write, or SFM to your heart's content! Do whatever you'd like!

DAY 13 - Respawn

Nobody stays dead.

DAY 14 - Capture the Flag

That briefcase isn't going to steal itself!

DAY 15 - Backstab

Should've checked behind you.

DAY 16 - Mann vs Machine

Guns and bullets or nuts and bolts? Who knows what could be running through those metallic minds...

DAY 17 - Expiration Date

Teleportation and bread. What else can I say?

DAY 18 - Headcannons

Think a little deeper. What do you just know has got to be true about the mercenaries?

DAY 19 - At home

Everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a home.

DAY 20 - Headshot

Looks like you stood a little bit too still.

DAY 21 - Alternate Universe

Emesis Blue? Lil' Pootis? A universe where the mercenaries are all alligators? The world is your oyster.

DAY 22 - Australium

A divine and valued substance rarer than gold

DAY 23 - Administrator

There's more to a war than just the fighters

DAY 24 - Pets

Some people have a soft spot for certain animals. Others choose to keep theirs around 24/7.

DAY 25 - Injury

An inevitability of war

DAY 26 - Control Points

A constant back and fourth

DAY 27 - Comics

Ink, panels, and pages. A story through words and pictures.

DAY 28 - Custom Class

Is nine really enough to cover everyone needed in a war? Probably not!

DAY 29 - Ubercharge

A miracle of medicine

DAY 30 - Sentry

Sometimes the best way to get good aim is to not be the one aiming

DAY 31 - Scream Fortress

Happy Halloween! Scream out to your heart's content and enjoy the spooks of the night!

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Five Minutes - L.L.

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not Proofread, Smut, Oblivious!Reader, Reader in Denial, Horny!Loki, Loki's use of magic, Intern!Reader, Dubcon (if you squint), Threesome (technically), Mutual Pining

Wordcount: 2,009

Summary: Loki has it bad for you. Having recently graduated from college, Tony Stark recruited you to work for him in his lab. A certain tall, dark and mysterious god takes a quick liking to you. He loves teasing you, and it's very clear that he wants you. To everyone but you, of course. Loki begins to use his magic to strip you of your defenses, but how will you respond?

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this little imagine I wrote up! As always, thank you all for your support on all of my other stories, I appreciate every single one of you! Without further ado, some fresh Loki smut.

The Avengers compound amazed you. There was so much to see, and Tony Stark had become somewhat of a father figure for you. He was very encouraging and for the most part, you were enjoying your start at the tower. You felt like the Avengers were like your family now. Natasha, Thor, and Steve were all like older siblings to you. Thor's brother Loki, however, had made several advances towards you. You always felt that he was teasing or that he wouldn't be interested in someone like you. You were a mere mortal, and although you were intelligent, Loki was a god.

However, he was a god who knew what and who he wanted. And he had his eyes set on you. The team didn't completely trust Loki yet. So, whenever they found themselves on a mission and you were stuck working in the lab, Loki always seemed to make his way up there to see you. On a typical day, he was always hiding in the library. But whenever you were in the lab alone, he was there to find you. Today was one of those days.

Loki also loved to comment on your lab gear, as he thought it was adorable. Your goggles, lab coat, your face shield. It was just simply adorable. So, when he spotted you in the lab, doing some experiments, he internally grinned. He opened up the glass door leading inside, and immediately you glanced up at him. "Oh darling, why can't you just be mine already?" You giggled, but avoided the question. "Loki, how many times have I told you that you need to be in proper lab attire to be in the lab? It is far too danger-" Loki shushed you by placing his index finger over your lips.

"And how many times have I told you I'm a god, love?" You glared up into his eyes. "That doesn't mean you're immortal from chemical burns, Loki."

"Aren't you bored up here?" He asked you suddenly. "No, thank you for asking. I'm quite entertained by what I'm doing here."

"So that means you don't want me to tear those clothes off of you?" Loki proposed. "I- I- um-" You stuttered, clearly flustered by his question. He shushed you again with his index finger. You blushed, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm working."

"You can't just take a little fifteen minute break?" He pondered. You went to speak, before he spoke again. "Actually, we both know it'd turn into much longer than that." He winked, and your cheeks turned into an even deeper red hue.

"Okay, doll. I'll leave you be. For now..." The god left your presence, and suddenly you felt a longing in your chest for him. You did like Loki. A lot. But you felt that his teasing you must be completely silly and only due to the fact that he was completely and entirely out of your league.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

The next time you saw Loki was when the Avengers returned from their mission later that day. Tony called a post-mission meeting in the team room to talk about strengths and weaknesses of the team and how improvements could be made.

You sat down with your cup of water, ready to talk with everyone about how the mission had gone. Everyone was alive, so the conversation was promising. In addition, no one ended up in the medical wing of the tower. Therefore, the meeting was to take place in the conference room in mere minutes. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, yourself, Loki, and several others sat among a large table.

Tony began with an overview of the mission, and although you tried your best to pay attention, you couldn't help but zone out unexpectedly several different times. You went for your glass of water, taking a small sip.

However, Loki had other plans. He formulated that a combination of your white blouse and water would be a delightfully - nearly lethal - one. With a flick of his hand, the water slipped out of the glass and onto the fabric that now coated your chest. The fabric that once hung loose, complimenting the shape of your breasts now completely surrounded them, and Loki loved the sight. You cursed to yourself, then got up and retreated to your room to change. Everyone understood why.

Loki, being his mischievous self, created a clone of himself to watch upon the meeting, while the other followed you to your bedroom.

"Darling, are you alright?" Loki knocked on your door with little to no hesitation. "Yes, Loki! I'm alright. Thank you for asking. Just getting changed!" In an instant, Loki transported himself into your room. Your white, lacy bra exposed to him, along with your tight black pencil skirt leaving little to the imagination. You gasped.

"I wouldn't mind helping you get undressed..." Loki spoke, shocking you. Your heart started to beat faster and faster. "I- um- we have a meeting to attend, Loki." Although you had always sensed Loki's teasing towards you, it was always your understanding that all it was was teasing. Nothing more. But this - this was different. He was standing in front of you now, seeing more than most men ever had. Recognizing just how much you were exposed to the god, you attempted to fold your arms across your chest, which he immediately pulled back down to the side.

"Don't hide yourself from me, darling." Loki's voice was soft, yet stern. You gazed up at him, your innocent doe eyes doing more to him than you could ever imagine. Loki felt himself hardening more, if at all possible. "Let's make a deal, Y/N L/N. If I can get your precious mortal form to cum in 5 minutes or less, then you become mine."

You stood still for a moment, like a deer in headlights, completely shocked from his words. If you were honest, you had no idea that Loki even knew your last name. "I- I-" you started, unable to pursue words any longer. "Do we have a deal?" Loki spoke, more confidently than ever. "What do you mean I become yours?" You almost snapped at him, suddenly becoming somewhat agitated by the pressure of Loki's presence. "Your delicious physical form will be mine, your mind, your heart, all of it."

"So a slave?" "No, not a slave. I worship you too much. I just want you." You looked perplexed for a moment. "But why?" "Darling, shh. Your questions are terribly incessant. So, do we have a deal?"

"I would like to adjust the terms slightly. If - and I mean if - you can make me cum in 5 minutes, you can take me out on a date. Being a piece of property just really does not appeal to me in the slightest." In all honesty, you did not anticipate Loki taking your bid for a mere date. "Darling, I do not view you as property, not at all. However, I will accept your offer for this 'date.'"

And with that, Loki placed his lips firmly on yours. Slightly in shock, you pulled away for a mere moment. "Ah ah ah, we need a timer." You pulled out your phone, setting a timer for 5 minutes. He planted a kiss on you once more, wasting absolutely no time stripping you of your skirt, bra, and panties. 4m 53s.

He pushed you onto the bed, magically ridding himself of his own clothes as well. With the snap of his fingers, his clothes were removed, the green dust dissolved and they quickly dissipated, revealing his brilliant body underneath. 4m 47s. 

His cock stood at attention, its length prominent. Certainly larger than you had taken previously. You had begun to doubt the possibility of Loki even being able to fit inside of you. Before you could question it further, you felt Loki’s heated breath on your labia, his fingers parting it slightly so he could coax forward your clitoris towards his tongue. 

He brought his mouth to sit around your clit, suckling lightly as he got you warmed up. Similarly, he brought his fingers to massage your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. Suddenly, a magical green aura flashed, and a second Loki was upon you, taking your lips in his, twisting his tongue amongst yours, and almost most importantly, bringing your wrists up to hold in restraint above your head. 4m 32s. 

Your heat became considerably wetter, especially now that there were two Lokis playing with you. You moaned, which was mostly absorbed by Loki’s mouth, which was still toying with yours. You felt your nipples get pinched, at this point you weren’t sure by which Loki. You just knew pleasure, and that you were writhing with it, overwhelmingly so. 

You felt a teasing finger prod your entrance, almost beckoning you forward to beg for Loki’s member. However, you were distracted enough by the gentle kisses that were being placed on your lips, that you didn’t want to pull away from aside from the ever so slight breath that was needed for your pleasure to continue. Loki’s tongue continued to swirl around your clit teasingly, as your canal spasmed around his finger. 4m 15s.

You felt Loki’s lips release from yours, while you still felt the pressure from the other Loki lower. You let out a brief moan, making eye contact with the Loki above. “Good girl. Let me hear your beautiful sounds, darling.” 3m 57s. 

“You’re quite wet down here, my love. How would you like to feel your God inside of you?” The other Loki spoke from below, while simultaneously continuing to play with your clit and inside of you. You nodded feverishly, desperate to feel more than just Loki’s fingers in you. “Say it, my love.” “Please, Loki. Please.” 

“With pleasure, darling.” 3m 28s. The other Loki who was kissing you disappeared into green dust, as the first stood up. “I prefer this part to be more intimate, just the two of us.” 

Suddenly, Loki’s tip prodded against your opening, he took his time swirling around it before gently pressing inwards. You let out a moan as his tip entered you, pressing against your walls. His girth was certainly more than anyone you had been with previously. He is a god, after all. “Fuck,” you cursed. 

Loki tsked. “Be a good girl for me” he slid inside of you with a sudden movement, fully penetrating you. 2m 45s. 

“Oh my god” you moaned. “That’s right, your god.” 2m 22s. 

Loki brought your legs to his shoulders, thrusting steadily inside of you as he kissed your lips. You had never felt this much pleasure in your life. You groaned out as Loki released your lips from his. “Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“So, so good” you moaned, his pulsating inside of you more and more consistent, more intense with every stroke. “You’re so good for me, love.” 

Your legs shaking with pleasure as Loki continued his persistent pounding of your canal. 1m 57s.

“I’m-” you stuttered, Loki hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath as warmth built inside of your stomach. “You’re what, darling?” Loki questioned teasingly, knowing you barely had it in you to answer. 1m 34s. 

“I’m gonna- oh my god.” 

“You’re gonna what, love?”

“Cu-cum.” 

“Cum with me, darling. Now.” 1m 2s. 

You felt Loki’s hot fluids coat your insides, as your pleasure brought you to the most incredible orgasm of your life. Loki, staying inside of you, brought his mouth to yours to continue his delicate, yet intense, displays of affection. “Looks like I got about a minute to spare, my lady. So when’s that date?” 

Loki slid out of you, landing next to you on the bed where he could snuggle in close to you.

“Well, let’s count out today, I won’t be able to walk until at least tomorrow.” Loki placed kisses on your cheek and jawline as he held you close. 

“We’ll stay here until then, my love.”

[taleeater]

Heavy Sleeper

I wrote like half of this at 3am 6 months ago and finally decided to finish it 😅

Generation: Bayverse, 2003, 2007 TMNT

TMNT Donatello x Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Warnings: illness, fainting, fever, IV

Tags: angst, fluff, illness

Summary: You overworked yourself past exhaustion helping Donnie with a new project. Not that you minded. Or noticed, until it was too late.

Word Count: 3229

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It has been a long night. …..and a long morning. You had been spending the last few days with Donnie occupied in the lab, helping him with some of the smaller, more detailed work on his new security device. While you were busy soldering pathways onto extra small microchips at the workbench, Donnie was typing away creating the programming at his computer. It required a high level of focus. Which, honestly, you usually didn’t have. However, this project had all your attention, and you had been happily hyper focused on designing the little golden pathways on those tiny green wafer boards for almost 3 days straight.

Donnie was extremely grateful for your help. But he was suspicious how his energetic little dove was being so quiet and still while they worked. The thought came to him a few times that he should go check on you again, but he was equally engrossed in his own project and kept getting sucked back into the work.

Your trick was: caffeine. You had discovered in college that if you drank caffeine on an empty stomach, you could stay extra focused for hours on end. Obviously, this wasn’t good for your health. Or your stomach. But usually you would finish whatever project it was you were laser focused on within the day, so the strain on your body wouldn’t last that long.

This was lasting very long. Very very long. And you had no idea of the passage of time. There was no sun peeking through curtains to inform you that you had worked through the night, or disgruntled roommate checking in to wonder why you hadn’t emerged all day. Donnie’s brothers were very well used to his overworking tendencies, so they paid it no mind he was only coming out for coffee and pop tarts. What they didn’t realize was that you were still in the lair, all assuming you had gone home after the first night. So none had thought to go in to check on the lab.

Here lies the dilemma. It had been maybe 64 hours since you had slept or properly consumed anything besides coffee and a singular package of pop tarts, frequently forgetting about the pile of snacks Donnie kept leaving on your desk. Your back was stiff, muscles sore, and your throat was starting to feel incredibly dry. But all your attention being on finishing your project meant all your physical awareness was finely tuned out.

Except that little tickle in the back of your throat.

It started maybe 5…. 6 hours ago. It was a little bothersome, making you clear your throat and drink a little more coffee to soothe it. But it kept coming back. The tickle started to become a little painful, and clearing your throat turned into small dry coughs. You were drinking more and more coffee to try and wash down the feeling or maybe chase away the dehydration. Your lips started to feel dry, then your eyes, joining in with your uncomfortably dry throat. By the time evening rolled around, your chest was burning terribly, and a migraine had started to thrum with your pulse. Having finished your pot of coffee maybe 2 hours ago and hadn’t bothered to go make more, you were thinking you just needed to get more to drink.

You took a small pause in your welding to push up your goggles and wipe at your dry eyes, when suddenly your vision blurred. For a second, you suddenly found your body lurching to the side off your chair before you caught yourself on the side of the desk.

‘Huh… that was weird. Maybe I’m just tired. I’ll go make more coffee.’

Donnie had been bringing you refills whenever he had gotten up to make more, but you had finished your pot twice as fast as usual. You moved to the side of your chair to stand, and your feet touched the ground with your full weight. To your surprise, your knees almost buckled underneath you, and blackness started to creep in the edges of your vision.

Your body felt weak, and your muscles ached. Keeping a death grip on the edge of the table, you took a slow step towards Donnie’s part of the lab, then another. You blinked rapidly to try and chase away the encroaching darkness creeping in your vision, but too soon your eyesight went dark, and it felt like your brain was shutting down. Internally, you were panicking and fighting to stay conscious, but all you could manage was weakly calling out for Donnie before you blacked out. You didn’t even feel yourself hit the ground.

Donnie, on the other side of the lab, had pulled away from his computer moments before to rub a hand down over his face. This line of code was driving him crazy and he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. He briefly heard the scrape of (y/n) pushing their chair away from the table, and expected to hear your footsteps head past him to the small bathroom in the back of the lab. He took a moment to flag this line of code- again, for further meddling later. The genius turtle had to admit he was reaching his limits on staying awake and figured it was time he took himself and (y/n) to bed.

But where was (y/n)? They hadn’t come in to greet him yet. Were they just adjusting their chair? That was when he heard it.

“d….don nie…” your voice called out weakly, strained, and barely above a whisper before he heard a light thud from the other room. Had you dropped something? He quickly pulled himself to stand and made his way to the other room to check on what it was you needed.

There. On the floor. You laid still and unmoving on your side against the cold floor.

“(Y/N)!!!!” Donnie exclaimed. Startled, he rushed to your side and dropped down beside you, pulling you into his lap. “(Y/n)! (Y/N)!!!!” He shook you slightly trying to rouse your attention, but your eyes were closed and your body fully limp in his arms. Unresponsive. Quickly, he felt for your pulse, sighing when he found it, but worried by the heightened pace. Donnie scooped you up into his arms and quickly carried you towards the med bay across the lair.

He made his way out of his lab and passed the living room where Mikey and Leo were watching a movie on the TV, and Raph was making a sandwich in the kitchen.

“Huh? Donnie? Is that (y/n)? I didn’t see them come in… are they asleep??” Leo asked when he saw Donnie rush out holding you in his arms.

“No time. (Y/n) fainted in the lab.” Donnie rushed out and speed walked through the clear plastic panels into the med bay, ignoring the startled ‘WHAT’ echoed by Leo and Mikey, and what sounded like Raph choking on his sandwich.

He laid you out gently on the padded white exam table, 3 sizes too big for you, and rushed around the drawers and cabinets. He acquired a stethoscope, thermometer, blood pressure pump, and various other tools to properly check your health and brought them over to the table beside you just as his brothers rushed in.

“ANGELCAKES ARE YOU OKAY??? Ow-“ Mikey rushed in pushing past Leo and Raph and dramatically ran to your side before Raph smacked the back of his head.

“Mikey, chill out. Give ‘em some room.” Raph growled out, trying to pull his dramatic little brother back while Leo stepped forward.

“Donnie, what happened to (y/n)?”

Donnie was now wearing the stethoscope and had the end pressed to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing strained.

“Hmm… heart palpitations… lungs… crackling sound… that can’t be good.” Donnie was muttering notes under his breath, reaching up to place his hand over your forehead. He found a scorching hot fever and his heart sank. Only then did he turn to Leo. “We… we’ve been working in the lab the past few days… pretty intensely….” Donnie winched. “In hindsight, we did not take as many breaks as we should have. It appears (y/n) has collapsed from exhaustion.” Donnie’s eyes went downcast. He looked equally tired, but guilt was weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“They’ve been here all along?? We thought they went home days ago. Aren’t they usually the one making sure you’re eating and taking breaks to sleep?” The shock in Leo’s voice was clear. You were usually so doting with Donnie, cooking his favorite foods and dragging him off to bed with you to make sure he was well taken care of when he got too involved in his work. It appears this time the tables were turned. “They were helping you with a project? Have they been eating enough?” Leo pressed.

That seemed to have caught Donnie’s attention and he suddenly turned back to continue his check on you. “Yes, I’ve been bringing them snacks whenever I’d get up for coffee. They must’ve been weakened from lack of rest and dehydration…. I’m going to check their blood pressure.” Donnie wrapped the cuff around your arm, and started to inflate it when you started to stir.

“Huh… that doesn’t look good.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a deep breath. The bright lights making you wince and shut your eyes again. You moved to bring a hand up to your face but was surprised to feel the tug of something around your arm.

“Mmh? Donnie…? What time is it…” You stretched, confused as to why your body ached so much. Why was he looming over you? And his room was never this bright or cold.

“(Y/n)! Thank goodness… Darling, when was the last time you ate?” Donnie held your shaky hand in his and gently stroked his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hm…? The uh…. Pop tarts you gave me…”

Donnie sighed in relief, remembering he had brought you a package of pop tarts to set on your desk just that afternoon.

“Right after we took a nap together.”

Then Donnie blanched.

“Sweetheart… our last nap together was almost 3 days ago. What happened to the snacks I was leaving on your desk…?” He asked, trying to be hopeful. They had disappeared each time he had returned, so he assumed you had eaten them.

“3 days…? Oh…. Um… they were in the way, so I moved them to the bench for later…. I must’ve forgotten about them.”

Leo slapped a hand over his face. He was realizing you and his brother had more in common than he thought.

“Mikey, can you please go make some soup? Raph, please let dad know that (y/n) will be staying over for the next few days.” Mikey did a mock salute and rushed to the kitchen to make some light chicken noodle soup and Raph left to find Master Splinter in his plant room. Leo went to grab some clean blankets and a spare pillow from their storage room.

Your breathing was labored in the now quiet room. You turned your head to the side to rest against the cool pillow as you gazed up at Donnie with your shiny dazed eyes, cheeks flushed and red. “I almost finished the motherboard… just gotta… add the red and yellow wires…” You trailed off as your eyes slid shut. They burned with exhaustion and the light was hurting your head.

Donnie leaned in close and cupped your cheek gently, and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. His brow furrowed with worry, but his eyes were soft with adoration. “You did an amazing job. I’ll finish it up later, you just get some rest. Okay?” His thumb stroked your cheek.

“Mh hm… don’t forget the… polyimide adhesive tape…’s under my jacket…” You mumbled as you easily slipped into sleep.

Donnie smiled at you. He loves you. He loves that you taught yourself engineering to help him out with his workload. But right now he was regretting it, seeing the heavy bags under your eyes as you slept soundly. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.

When you learned that it was difficult for him and his brothers to do the delicate work of designing circuit boards for their tech, he was surprised you immediately showed interest in learning. He admittedly didn’t take you very seriously at first. But then you started joining him in the lab on long nights to study books you had checked out from the library on basic engineering, he taught you how to assemble his tech and how to solder and weld the machines together into things that would help them on patrol and repair things around the lair. He still remembers the first thing you’d ever made. The poorly soldered little metal band he wore around his right pinky finger.

Leo came back in with the blankets in tow. “Should we move them to your bed?” He asked Donnie.

“Not yet, I need to set them up with an IV to get some fluids in them first. I suspect they’re very dehydrated, on top of the general exhaustion.” Donnie was swaying in place. He looked exhausted, and Leo felt worry for you and his brother. It had been a long time since you last let him overwork himself to this extent. He blamed himself for not checking in on his brother sooner.

”Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll set up (y/n)’s IV and keep an eye on them.”

”But (y/n)….”

”-Would want you to rest.” Leo finished with a knowing smile.

Donnie sighed and looked you over. Leo unfolded the blanket and draped it over you so you wouldn’t get cold. Donnie fussed with bringing the edge right up under your chin and fixed your hair. He didn’t want to leave you in here, but he knew Leo was right. He wouldn’t be much use to you if both of you collapsed from exhaustion, so he relented.

”Wake me up if you need anything.” Donnie stood up on shaky legs.

”Uh huh.” Leo put his hands on Donnie’s shoulders and led him out of the med bay.

”And I mean anything-“

“Of course Donnie, now go to bed.” Leo pushed him out in the direction of their bedrooms. Raph and Mikey in the kitchen watched as Donnie trudged and swayed towards his bedroom, and disappeared into the darkness swinging his door shut.

“Duuude. Do I gotta start hiding the coffee again?” Mikey said from where he was chopping veggies for your soup.

Leo pointed at Mikey, “No more caffeine for those two for a month!”

Raph grunted a laugh.

Leo had set up your IV, just like Donnie had taught him. After an hour and a half, your body had absorbed most of the fluids, so Leo felt satisfied enough to wake you up. He shook your shoulder a bit to wake you up. You were deep asleep. The soup at your bedside that Mikey had brought in had cooled to a safe temperature, so he wanted to make sure you ate something hearty before he sent you back to bed.

”Mmh?” You finally started to stir.

”(Y/n), wake up. You’ve got to eat something.” Leo coaxed.

Your eyes fluttered open and immediately winced at the bright light. Leo stood over you to shield your eyes from the overhead light as you adjusted.

“Where’s Donnie?” You asked a bit dazed, looking around. The tickle in your throat was now a scratchy and irritated pain. You coughed hard into your fist.

”He went to bed. Here, Mikey made you some soup. It should still be warm enough.” Once you had sat up he handed you the bowl.

“Try and eat as much of it as you can, so you can take your medicine.”

You hummed in response, stifling another cough. You balanced the soup in your lap and slowly ate, spooning the warm chicken stock and veggies into your mouth. It soothed your throat, and with a few more bites you felt less shaky. You ate slowly, but you managed to finish almost the entire bowl.

Leo looked pleased and handed you your meds to swallow. Mikey poked his head in through the door to check on you as well.

”How’s angelcakes feeling?”

You paused a long moment as you sipped at a glass of water.

“Better.” You croaked. You still felt absolutely dreadful, but, “the soup helped. Thank you Mikey.”

The orange ninja beamed. Raph also peaked in over his little brother’s shoulder.

Leo looked back to you and took the bowl and spoon from your lap. He checked your IV pack and saw that most of it was gone. Your eyes looked heavy again as your body begged for more rest.

”I think it’s time you got some more sleep.” Leo mothered you. He tried to lift the edge of the blanket to cover you as you lay down but your hand stopped him.

Your red rimmed eyes were distant, and you cleared your throat as you found your words. “….Can I go to Donnie’s room? Please?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile at the innocent request. “Sure thing. Come on-“ You sat back up and Leo removed your IV. He motioned for you to adjust yourself, and Leo wrapped you up like a burrito in the blanket before scooping you up and carried you out of the med bay.

Mikey chuckled and rushed over to open Donnie’s door for you and his brother.

”Special delivery!!” He called into the darkness of Donnie’s room. A groan echoed out as the exhausted purple turtle was woken up. Leo carried you in and Donnie scooted over to make room for you to be deposited on his bed.

”Thanks Leo… hey babe…” Donnie greeted you sleepily, sitting up in bed as he received you and untangled you from the blanket.

Leo quietly walked out of the room to give you two privacy, and shoved Mikey’s face out of the way so he could close the heavy metal door behind him.

You stifled a cough, and reached out for Donnie in the darkness. The purple turtle dipped down into your embrace, and smooched your flushed red cheek. His arms slid up your back, and he pulled you flush against him in a warm embrace. He patted around for the edge of the blanket, before pulling it up and covering the both of you. He sighed deeply as he relaxed again against the pillows with you wrapped up in his arms.

”Thanks for helping me….. but please don’t ever do that again.” He mumbled against the crown of your head.

”Do what?” You asked, already half asleep.

”Collapse.”

You hummed a little laugh and snuggled in impossibly closer.

”I’ll do my best…”

Donnie pressed another quick kiss to your head, and you both quickly slipped back asleep.

The End :]

[fiuworks]

so......i didnt expect this post to get as much traction as it did so in celebration of 1k notes (YOU LOT ARE INSANE) some content that i found just as funny that cant be left in the reblogs

@r-u-living did not think i would ever be drawing sopping wet jarchivist but this was too funny not to draw

@cheeto-flavoured-pasta i giggled so loudly

@no-tengo-ojos i raise you: my-boyfreind-stayed-up-all-night-cutting-apart-swimming-goggles-and-now-i-have-to-go-to-the-beach-like-this jonathan sims (he cannot win)

@whitenessgreynessdarkness laikabug get out of the rain you're going to get ill and die laikabug no noo noooo (i need to stop drinking pina coladas and then opening tumblr it has results)

and now some reblogs that made me giggle that i didnt draw:

honored that you're giggling over my content while your teeth are so vulnerable

u guys feed my ego sm its insane ily all

HAVEYOU SEEN THOSE GIANT BASINS THEY USE TO BATHE DOGS IN DOG SALONS. yeah

no

reposting this one AGAIN. this was UNCALLED FOR (loved it havent stopped thinking about it)

anyway thanks for thinking im funny yall its been the highlight of my week truly

[leighsartworks216]

Search and Rescue

Zayne x gn!Reader

I swear one day I'll write another Zayne fic that has absolutely nothing medical in it at all

Warnings: hurt/comfort, some angst, blizzards/snowstorms, blood, injury, minor character death, self-sacrifice, hypothermia, dialogue heavy, established relationship

Word Count: 3,333 (I did this on purpose >:3)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

When the weather reports come in, so too do the calls for you and Zayne. Jenna needs you on duty to help anybody who gets trapped in the oncoming blizzard, and Zayne needs to be at the hospital to help emergency patients and those sheltering from the storm.

It’s hours before the storm is supposed to roll in when you begin getting ready. Zayne helps you find heavy-duty waterproof gloves and don enough layers to keep you moderately warm while you work. You pack Zayne emergency snacks and drinks. He tucks one of the protein bars into your coat pocket.

The tension of the danger that lies ahead is palpable. Rescue missions aren’t unusual for either of you, but keeping up with communication and the unpredictable nature of what could happen will make things very tricky, very fast.

You hold his hand as he drives to the hospital. The Alpha Team will be setting up base there to account for the high influx of patients. The perimeter will reach a few blocks. Whether you stay within it remains to be seen.

It would be hypocritical of him to tell you not to risk your life for the sake of another, more so than his usual hypocrisy when it comes to taking care of himself, so he doesn’t say that. Instead, he tells you, “Don’t be reckless.”

You smile. “I won’t be,” you promise.

Both of you know it’s a lie, whether you intend for it to be or not. You’ve always thrown yourself into danger at the drop of a hat. Now, as a Hunter, the danger keeps growing, and you still charge head-first into it.

He squeezes your hand.

The hospital bustles with preparations. Gurneys are lined along the halls, prepared to be filled once the last of the rooms fill up. Nurses are preparing stations to provide food, drinks, and blankets to anybody who needs it. Doctors offer contingency plans for a million different hypotheticals while dictating what patients should go where.

Jenna and your team help where they can. Nero is setting up a communication station that should make it possible to keep in touch during the storm. Tara is helping to set up Hunter Watches with emergency beacons, just in case anything does happen.

The storm is mere hours away.

Zayne removes his scarf and wraps it around you. You smile up at him reassuringly as he tucks the ends into your jacket. “Stay in contact.”

“I will. Every step, the team will know about it.”

He smiles slightly. “Good.” Not one for PDA, he nods to you, a silent wish of good luck and a quiet plea to come back to him in one piece. You return it, wishing him the same and promising to make it back even if it kills you.

And then he’s with the other doctors, preparing for the worst.

You jog over to your team. Tara beams at you, taking your wrist and setting up the beacon. Jenna debriefs you on what you need to do. Nero double checks that your comms will work.

It feels like no time has passed at all before the trouble begins.

-

Your snowmobile cuts over the snow piled on top of the blacktop. Tire tracks are quickly covered up or blown away. Cars sit parked on the side of the road or haphazardly abandoned right in the middle. The wind bites at your face like sharp teeth made of ice. The scarf around your mouth and nose prevents it from stealing your breath. Goggles protect your eyes, though the snow steals your visibility. Your hands have already started to go numb, but you press on.

The GPS on the snowmobile is glitching and useless with the storm blocking its signal. You have to rely on your knowledge of the area and Jenna’s voice in your ear directing you. There was a distress call sent in from a nearby park. It’s out of the set perimeter, but you’re the closest person available to help.

“The victim has a road flare available to them. Tell me when you’re in the area.”

“I’m almost at the entrance. I’ll go in on foot.”

“Careful. Don’t lose your way. Do you have anything to act as a marker?”

You pull up at the familiar iron gates of the park. You and Zayne come here for picnics when you have days off, so you know it pretty well by now. You dismount and try to find anything to use as a tether or beacon, but you just don’t have the resources. “I don’t.”

Jenna sighs. You really are her most reckless Hunter. “Call out the direction of the flare. Use it to retrace your steps back.”

“Understood.” You pull the scarf tighter around your ears as you head into the park. The snow is powdery beneath your feet, covering up your boots with every step. When you glance behind, your footprints are already gone. “Tell them to light the flare.”

Wind whips around, kicking up snow into your face and sneaking into your many layers. Once you get back, Jenna will send out another Hunter while you warm up and help at base. Just a few more minutes in the cold, and you can rest. The prospect urges you to keep pushing on, even as the damp begins collecting in your socks.

A faint pink glow pierces the haze. The light is diffused so much you almost miss it. “Spotted. North west from the entrance.”

The park feels like a deserted tundra the deeper in you go. You can’t see the iron fence that blocks it in, only the trees scattered around, barren or otherwise full of pine needles. You try to name what kind of tree they are, to help you on your way back.

On the left, a sycamore.

On the right, a pine tree.

Feet feel like miles, dragging on as the cold begins to seep in.

The glow of the flare disappears just ahead of you. Through the snow, you see the vague outline of a person. You pull down your scarf, exposing your mouth to the incoming agony of chapped lips, and cup your hands.

“HEY!” you shout. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

A muffled reply is swept away in the blizzard. With a bolstered resolve, you block the wind with your arm and push onwards. It isn’t much longer before the silhouette begins to clear.

Your watch beeps with a Metaflux warning. You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the horrific sight.

A Wanderer, some sort of knave, hunches over a body. A thin blanket flutters around the corpse, obscuring the figure. Red snow melts around them. The Wanderer’s arm is coated in the same red, seemingly fascinated with the spent flare as it prods it out of the victim’s hand.

“There’s a Wanderer,” you say through the comm. The creature’s head snaps up to you. You fumble for your gun, too tucked away to get to easily. It charges, blade-arms raised.

-

“Can you hear me?” Jenna tries again. It’s all static. Nero frantically tries reconnecting the link, but to no avail. “Have they lit their beacon yet?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, not yet.”

Tara gasps softly, hands covering her mouth as she stares at the holographic map. A red error warns of the lack of a signal, waiting for any sort of input to track. “What are we going to do?”

Jenna taps her finger on her arm.

Zayne helps someone in from outside. The snow gusts after them until the doors are pushed shut, chilling the lobby. He notices the red glow from the corner of his eye. His heart plummets to his stomach.

Trying to keep a level head, he passes the minorly injured person to a nurse, and rushes over. “What happened?” he demands.

Jenna looks at him from the corner of her eye, before fully turning to face him. “You’re close with Y/N, aren’t you?”

He nods. It only confirms his suspicions: something happened to you.

“They were answering a distress call when their line went dead. We believe they were attacked by a Wanderer, though the amount or type is unclear. They haven’t lit their beacon yet-”

“Captain!” Tara cries. “They lit it!”

She turns back to the map. The red error is gone, replaced with a blinking yellow icon. Zayne leans forward, reading the road labels.

“Do you have another snowmobile?” he asks.

“I can’t send a civilian into this storm.”

“I have extensive experience with search and rescue missions like this, Captain. And I know the area well. Along with my Evol, I should be able to retrieve them with little trouble.” He’s already buttoning his coat as he speaks, tucking his glasses away for safekeeping.

Jenna smirks. “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”

His ears are tinted pink as he looks away. You really are a bad influence on him.

“Here.” She grabs a bracelet-like device and wraps it around his wrist. “This way we’ll be able to track you through the storm.” Then she hands him a small earpiece. “Keep in touch. There’s another snowmobile outside.”

-

The storm hasn’t gotten any better by the time he reaches the park.

His cheeks are red from the cold, eyes bleary from the wind, and anxiety grips his heart like a vise. He parks his snowmobile beside yours. Snow has thoroughly covered the seat and skis.

He announces his arrival to your team. They lead him in the direction of your distress beacon.

The wind is deafening. The most recent weather reports predict that the storm will die down in a couple hours, but that’s far too long to wait for you to survive through.

Snow collects on his jacket as he blocks his face. The snow on the ground almost reaches his mid-calf, making movement difficult. But he powers through. He must. The thought of you dying out here, slow and alone, chills him to the bone even more than the blizzard, even more than his Evol. He refuses to let that happen.

A plastic wrapper, half-buried in the snow, catches his attention. He kneels down to look at it. The familiar colors and branding of the protein bar he stuffed in your pocket greets him. If this is yours, it means you’re alive enough to eat.

He shoves it into his pocket and keeps going.

“The map says they’re nearby,” your captain says through his earpiece several minutes later. He leans against a sycamore tree for cover. “Directly ahead of you.”

He shoves off and continues trudging forward. A dark shape under the snow 10 feet away catches his attention. His chest is tight as he drops down and begins uncovering it. It feels like his heart has stopped completely when he reveals the back of your coat.

He calls your name, digging his arms underneath your body to lift you and rest you against his chest. He bites the finger of his glove to pull it off. Your skin is ice cold as he feels for a pulse…

It takes nearly a minute before he feels the faint beat of your heart. He assesses you for any injuries. It doesn’t take long to find one.

Across your stomach is a long slash. Your clothes are torn, revealing ice-bitten skin and the jagged edges of your wound. When he looks, he can see a long trail in the snow, already being filled in. He can just imagine the agony you must have been in, trying to crawl through the snow back to safety. Eating your protein bar for a boost of energy, just to keep going.

He slips his glove back on and cradles you tightly to his chest as he stands and heads back the way he came.

“I found them. I’m heading back now.”

He’s back at the sycamore tree when your watch beeps. A glowing ring appears around your wrist, red with warning. He hears the Wanderer’s cry on the other side of the tree.

He quickly kneels down, supporting your body in his lap and cradling you with one arm, while the other calls ice to his hand. His face is set, eyes sharp. The second the creature rounds the trunk, he’s hurling ice at its chest.

Memories of fighting Wanderers in the mountains, of losing his friend, burn in his chest. Zayne fights with unyielding determination to get you home.

-

It’s warm. Almost too warm. Memories of playing outside in the snow as a child, only to come in and have burning sensations on your fingers and face, drift lazily through your mind.

There’s a weight on top of you. It’s too hot.

Lifting your arms feels like a monumental task. Trying to shove the blanket off is even harder. You’re panting before you’ve even uncovered your chest.

It’s suddenly pulled off of you, uncovering your legs from the burdensome heat. The cooler air of the room sends goosebumps all down your arms.

“Don’t move too much.”

Your head lolls to the side. Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. You’re so tired. You try to speak, but it comes out as garbled nonsense.

“Shh. You’re on a lot of pain medication right now.” Something soft touches your forehead. You stop fighting to keep your eyes open. “Get some sleep.”

You dream of building snowmen and drinking hot cocoa.

The next time you come to, your whole body aches. Your muscles scream in agony with every little twitch. The worst of it comes from your belly; a persistent sting that brings immediate tears to your eyes. You gasp and whimper as your hand tries searching for the source of your pain.

Something grabs your hand and pulls it away, holding it tenderly to the side. “Does it hurt?”

You whimper again, nodding pathetically.

“Okay. It’s okay. Give it a minute. It’ll go away soon.”

You try forcing your eyes open again. They don’t feel as heavy now. You can start to make out Zayne’s dark hair, the focus on his face as he makes adjustments to the equipment you’re hooked up to.

Slowly, the pain ebbs into a dull ache. He turns his attention back to you.

“Feel better?”

You nod again slightly. He smiles softly, but it looks like he’s struggling with it.

“Mhnn, what happened?” you slur.

He squeezes your hand gently, running his thumb over the bandages wrapped around your fingers.. The skin underneath is dry and cracked from the cold and the self-destruction of your crawling, but your blood runs warm underneath. “What do you remember?” he asks instead.

You blink, frowning with concentration. You remember the blizzard. Getting ready with Zayne in the morning. Meeting your team in the hospital. A dozen or so back-and-forth rescues. And then…

The barren trees appear in your mind through a haze. Dark red against melting snow. Fabric flapping wildly in the wind.

“The Wanderer…”

Zayne nods slowly. “Your comms went down. Your team couldn’t contact you at all.”

“Yeah, it…” You subconsciously reach for your ear, as though trying to find the earpiece. “It knocked it off when I dodged away.”

“And then you set off your beacon.”

A timid look comes over your face. He sighs, already knowing what you’re going to say. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I fought it off first. My gun was hard to reach, but-”

“So you waited until it was dead to alert anybody else to your struggle, even though it could have killed you before you ever got the chance.” It wasn’t a question. You can’t meet his eyes. Even after promising him to be careful, to stay in contact with your team at all times, you still put your life in unnecessary danger.

“‘M sorry…”

He sighs.

You look at him again, studying his attire. It’s buttoned all the way to his neck. His tie is crooked. “What happened after that?”

“Your captain gave me what I needed to rescue you myself,” he starts. You cut him off with wide eyes.

“She let you go on your own?”

He grins wryly, but the pinch in his brow shows just how strained it is. “You’re a terrible influence on me, you know that?”

You grin, too. You nod for him to continue.

A darkness covers his eyes. Bright hazel dimmed by the emotions that were still warring within him, battling with the relief that you’re still alive. “I found you buried in the snow,” he murmurs. “You were barely alive. The Wanderer didn’t hit anything vital, but you’d still lost a lot of blood. Paired with the frostbite… It’s a miracle you still have your extremities.

“I rushed you back to the hospital. We immediately began treating you with a heated IV. Once you were stable, we started you on a blood transfusion and treated your wound.” He nods to your stomach where your pain still lingers.

You look down at yourself. The blanket is still pulled off of you, folded off to the side. The snap-front gown they put you in allows for easy access to your stomach. You can see the bandages through a couple of the snaps.

Your eyes slowly trail to your connected hands. Your fingers are individually wrapped. His warmth seeps in through the bandages. But there’s something else…

You carefully pry your hand from his so yours is on top. He lets you, watching your movements for any discomfort. Your fingers glide over the faded scars of his hand, up to his sleeve. He pulls away when you push back the cuff, but you’ve already seen the glimpse of a bandage wrapped around his arm.

“You’re hurt, too.”

“It’s superficial.”

“Since when has that mattered to you?” you tease.

He glares at you, but there’s hardly any venom behind it. He looks away, readjusting his sleeve all the while. “More Wanderers appeared after I found you. A couple scratches here and there, but nothing serious,” he dismisses.

You seek out his hand again. There’s a quirk to your lip, one that belies the mischief in your actions, yet he gives himself to you anyway. You trace up the same pattern as before and struggle to undo the button of his sleeve. He undoes it for you. You’re unrelenting at the best of times; it’s easier not to fight it. He even lifts it up slightly, fully revealing the wrap around his wrist and forearm. The soft gauze padding can be seen through the thin material, outlining where the injury really is.

“Some couple we are,” you murmur. “We get hurt and we deny it with our every breath.”

He huffs a laugh. “Two self-sacrificing fools.”

You hum with a nod, continuing to trace over his injury. The mirth begins to drain from your face. “I’m sorry… For not calling for help sooner. For letting you get dragged into the mess I created.”

“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit, my love,” he whispers reassuringly as he slides his fingers up your wrist until he’s holding your hand again. He brings your bandaged knuckles to his lips. You watch the way his lips curve against your minor wounds. “I will always come to your aid, by my own choice, whether you created the ‘mess’ or not.”

“I love you,” you whisper in return.

He kisses your knuckles again. “The feeling is mutual.”

You pinch his chin playfully. He chuckles. “Get some rest. I’ll get something for you to eat.”

He lowers your hand back to the bed and stands up. His fingers work nimbly to button his sleeve and fix it once more. You catch his hand before he can turn to leave. He looks down at you attentively. You could ask him for the stars and he’d pluck every single one from the sky to give to you. You smile sweetly up at him, that familiar glint in your eye giving your tricks away.

“Does the hospital serve hot chocolate?”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover

[qqueenofhades]

I think the Aaron Sorkin fic people are writing about the convention to be extremely silly. It's going to be Biden. And if Biden's health takes a downturn and he feels the need to step down its going tk be Harris. This fantasy where we skip over her to whip up two random white guys(or like maaaybe Witmer) and somehow cruise to victory instead of fragmenting the party months before the election is simply not going to happen.

Look, I'm just saying, I got an email from the Biden campaign this morning where they seemed pretty darn happy with the actual (i.e. not-bloviating media) results of the debate: $38 million raised in 4 days ($30 million from individual small-dollar donors), 10K new volunteers in a week, 3x surge in campaign volunteers for battleground states, essentially no change or even a modest boost in the polls. So I think at this point, we can cautiously conclude the following things:

The debate looked bad for Biden, perhaps, but doesn't seem to have hurt him nearly as much the incredibly bad-faith BIDEN NEEDS TO STEP DOWN NOW takes being pumped out by the NYT and its other compatriots would suggest. Especially when these same media outlets have been gleefully sabotaging Biden at every turn for years already and whose fake-sanctimonious hand-wringing "for the good of the nation" pieces honestly should get them dropped into Superhell for Bad Journalists;

Biden went to Raleigh NC right after the debate and gave a fiery rally speech that was very well received. Now, I don't know why we didn't have that Biden at the debate, but it was the same night and there clearly was not any "cOgnItiVe dEcLinE" happening there (also Biden has a stutter and has for literally his entire life, and had a cold on debate night, so it was just an unfortunate confluence of factors)

There are very few actually undecided voters in this election (once again: HOW???) and those who tuned into the debate were largely already convinced of which candidate they were voting for and this didn't do much to change their minds. Just like, you know, pretty much every other debate in the history of presidential elections.

Ordinary voters, and not mainstream media outlets with BIDEN IZ BAD goggles clamped over their eyes, were able to see Trump's insane Gish gallops, lies, and full-blown dementia; this isn't going to get any better for him when he's already lost 20%-25% of GOP voters in every state primary and still is going to be sentenced in his criminal trial;

The D.C. political elite screaming about how Biden should step down (FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION) and leave the Democrats to start from scratch with some Star Chamber-selected candidate with no money and no incumbency record and no organization apparatus and a divided party are either fucking weapons grade morons or working secretly for Trump, because that IS in fact the best way to lose the election;

Such speculation seems to fall chiefly on Gavin Newsom, who (to his credit) has shut down any and all suggestion that he should try to step in and take the place of an incumbent who has won every state primary with 90% or more, because he's remotely sane and understands that this year is too important to fuck around with;

I've somehow never seen any suggestion that Biden should step aside for the duly elected (brown, female) Vice President, because everyone seems to think some Young Miraculous White Guy is coming and/or should step in;

All this while SCOTUS is clearly so confident of Trump getting back in that it's willing to grant him Absolute God King status pre- and post-emptively;

Yes, Biden needs to up his game before the next debate (though that's on Fox News iirc, blargh), but I think it's far enough post-debate that we can say it was bad but did not sink him, and if anything, reinforced the fact to many ordinary, non-brainwormed voters that Biden is old (which has been the number one chief theme of news coverage for four years and is no surprise to anyone) but is a decent and principled man doing a good job, while Trump is an absolute gibbering insane orange shitmonger fascist. I don't think he did himself any favors in that regard.

....anyway. The point is, do not be fucking insane people, Biden is not going to step down and frankly shouldn't, don't read the NYT (as noted, they've openly admitted to sabotaging him for personal ego reasons so I don't know why the hell anyone would listen to what they have to say about him), this is still an eminently winnable election, and let's go get those motherfucking fascists. I want Trump in jail and all of SCOTUS and the MAGAGOP fucking crying over it because they fucking suck. Let's go.

[sexlapis]

# the D word

꩜ nanami x gn!reader

ns4w, daddy kink, penetrative s e x, praise, fluff, crack, undisclosed kinks, the tiniest bit of angst, petnames

⤷ synopsis : nanami accidentally reveals his “secret” kink.

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i love a good daddy kink fic #sorrynosorry

masterlists

*

the first time that word slips from his lips, you don’t even think he realises.

it had been a tiring, stressful day for nanami and unfortunately, those types of days are not uncommon in his line of work.

some days are better than others. some days he is here, with you and present even after a bad day but other times…he can be gone for months.

luckily, it wasn’t one of those days.

while you finished off preparing dinner, nanami rests on the couch, head lolling back into the headrest. his noticeable tie is long gone, along with his suit coat and goggles. the top few buttons of his blue shirt are undone, the sleeves of it rolled up to his elbows, revealing the pale expanse of his trimmed forearms.

you walk into the living room, where he is. “nanami, dinners ready. let’s go eat!”

nanami grunts, eyes closed and not making any viable efforts to join you or to eat.

you tilt your head, sympathy in your eyes. maybe he has a headache or just wants to sleep. i’ll leave him the leftovers for work.

“_____,” nanami drawls out, sounding like he’s minutes away from passing out, “_____, c’mere, come sit for a second, hm..”

“hm? oh…ken, are you okay?” you move closer to him, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, “maybe you should go to bed.”

“no. yes. no. i’m fine,” nanami huffs, running a hand down his face before patting his lap, “just c’mere, come sit. come sit on daddy’s lap.”

any thoughts in your head, any words you were to utter, any movements you were to make instantly come to an abrupt halt.

uhm…what?

daddy?

your jaw may as well be plonk on the floor.

now, you and nanami’s sex life is not boring or unsatisfactory in the slightest, the exact opposite in fact. you and nanami were happy with what you had. but you most definitely did not peg him to be the type who likes to be called…that word.

did you like that word though? growing up, you had always thought it was a bit strange hearing your friends call the guys they found attractive a term that one would use for their father. for you, it wasn’t even a question or even a thought. you simply and absolutely were not a fan. it wasn’t for you…or so you thought.

that word. nanami said it so easily, so readily, like he didn’t even think about what he was referring to himself as, like he did it every day of his life.

the way in which he said it, in a weary, gentle groan, urging you to sit on his lap, so unfazed like he knew you would say yes to his request as if he has ever called himself “daddy”.

it makes the pit of your stomach alight with unexpected desire. all because of one word.

so you decide to indulge him (and maybe, secretly, yourself too).

you shuffle the short distance to nanami, carefully sitting yourself right in the middle of his lap and curling your knees up on his thigh, you cheek now smushed against his shirt. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost sends you to sleep.

he hums, content when he rings his arms around you body like vines and prods his nuzzles the top of your head, breathing heavily and letting his eyes close.

“this is all i needed…”

the next day, all is forgotten.

*

the next time he said it, the sun had just about risen over the clouds on a lazy weekend.

sweat slides between the gravitating bodies of you and nanami, luminary, golden light shining over the two of you. only the sound of skin coming together and the sounds of soft, tired pleasure were all that could be heard in the room.

nanami embraces you closely as you move on top of him languidly, not in a rush at all but already so, so close to reaching your peaks.

he groans, loud and deep. nanami is more vocal in the morning you’ve noticed, all drowsy and vulnerable and pliant. blonde strands of hair stick to his forehead as rouge washes over his neck and cheeks.

“hmfp…fuck…oh shit,” nanami’s hands finds your rippling ass, groping gently and pulling it, exposing you most intimate areas to the chill of the morn, “i’m cumming. fuck, i’m cumming. you’re gonna make daddy cum.”

it embarrasses you. how quickly your eyes roll into the back of your head when he calls himself that damn name again.

you don’t stop and the unhurried circling of your hips around nanami’s cock as you, quite literally, ride out your high has him clutching onto your waist whilst he releases himself inside of you, jerking himself upwards and holding you in place, ensuring you take it all.

languorous rolls of the hips turn into soft grinds as you milk him for all he’s worth. he’s jelly in your hold, moaning quietly and long eyelashes fluttering.

“god…” you chime, lifting yourself up and off his manhood, making him hiss at the cold. white drips out of you, dripping onto nanami’s lower torso.

the next few moments are still after he moves you lay next to him, still regaining your breath and coming back to earth. you peer to your left and that his eyes are closed.

probably going to fall back asleep…

you kiss his sweaty shoulder, “it’s okay baby, you can go to sleep.

nanami whines, breathes out and he…sleeps once again.

no mention of that either.

*

later on in the day, rain patters against the clear window. you and nanami sit closely on the couch, a book in your hand and a very loved kindle in his. he wears his nerdy reading glasses and a cream-coloured sweater, looking all cosy, homey and domestic.

…your mind is not on the book in front of you. not in the slightest.

daddy… just when i think i’ve got him all figured out…

to you, it’s odd. i mean, it would be odd to anyone if their partner began referring to themselves as “daddy” out of the blue, right? why not discuss it with you first? what if it was a turn-off and you didn’t even like it? then again, nanami has not heard any complaints from your mouth. you’re not even sure you have any complaints about his quite generous use of the word.

i think it’s starting to grow on me.

you should just ask him. but what if he’s embarrassed?

well he should’ve thought about that and discussed it with me?

what if it’s awkward?

well not all conversations in a relationship are going to be comfortable.

what if he just shuts down and gives me the silent treatment?

well, maybe-

“since when you do you have a daddy kink?”

nanami chokes on his own spit, coughing before he sputters, staring at you like he should be the one that’s shocked, “wh-what?!”

“don’t play dumb! are we just gonna pretend that you haven’t been calling yourself da- the “D” word recently?” you whisper-shout the last part, feeling heat rise on your face, “where did that even come from?”

“alright, alright i-,” he sighs, “listen i…i’ve-i’ve liked.. it for a while now. it was just-,” he sighs again, looking to the floor, “embarrassing.”

“…oh nanami…” you cuddle up to him, moving his hand away from his now red face, kissing the back of his hand, “you’re so silly. you don’t have to be embarrassed. loads of people like those things…a heads up would’ve been appreciated though…”

“right. sorry.”

you shrug it off, “nah, it’s fine. i actually think it suits you. “daddy” huh?”

“oh, jesus christ.” nanami presses his eyes together, rethinking his life choices.

“oh no, don’t backtrack now. you brought this upon yourself this time…you do have a lot of…”daddy” qualities to be honest,” you genuinely begin to ponder, “you’re caring, kinda fatherly, dominant, you even carry me to bed sometimes and pick out my clothes and -”

“please-”

“what is it? is daddy getting shy? you weren't shy last night.”

nanami might as well melt into the ground as you snicker in his face. you are having far too much fun with this.

“are you done?”

“yes, daddy.”

“eugh.”

you giggle some more and really, nanami does see the humour in this. a stoic man too embarrassed to tell his partner about his little kink? that is silly.

“but seriously, it’s fine. i kinda like it!”

“yes, i got that impression.”

you smack his bicep. “not too much. just tell me next time, yeah? i don’t want to be having sex and then next thing i know you’re calling me “master” or something, that would be crazy.”

“…yeah… that would be crazy…”

“…”

“…”

“nanami? what-”

*

< thank u for reading ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა >

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.

if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3

/p

(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O

Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.

—————————-

Engineer:

- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.

- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.

- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.

- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.

- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.’ This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.

- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.

- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”

- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.

- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)

- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.

- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?

- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!

- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!