#Tags Enhanced Safety

[peachtacular-home-health-care]

Incorporating technology into senior home care can revolutionize the way we approach healthcare. From improving communication and safety to promoting independence and quality of life, technology has the potential to transform home care for patients and caregivers alike.

[myfictionaldreams]

Safety Measures // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Extra reading: Last Hope for background context

A/N: Happy New Year, beautiful readers! I hope everyone is well and safe.

Requested by: @theatrelove3000 thank you so so much for the request and all your support with my writing. As always, you're the best!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, polyamory, ptsd, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, discussion of past abuse, domestic fluff, dom/sub undertones, cock warming, subspace (kinda), hurt/comfort, new member of the family (yay!), puppy

Words: 4.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Insomnia was an issue you’d never had to deal with before. Not when you have two of the most powerful men of all of the East Coast tiring you out and wrapped around your body to make you feel safe and content.

However, as the seconds ticked by on the clock position on the nightstand next to the bed, you’d found that your body was willing to do anything but sleep. As midnight struck, any hope that had been inkling in your thoughts was diminished. There you were, half sprawled over Steve’s naked chest, his warmth burning through your skin, with Bucky spooning around your back, sandwiching you thoroughly between the two of them, legs crisscrossed between one another.

Even in the safe embrace, your heart continued to palpate painfully in your chest with such powerful thumps you were worried it would wake one of your lovers.

It was always this day. This date. Every year, that sprung fear through your soul, with the memories of your past returning to haunt you. Before Bucky. Before Steve or either of their safety and love, you’d been involved with your family business, reigned by your sadistic brother, Enzo, who was both hateful and abusive, causing you to live a life that was not worth living at all.

For countless years, you’d simply been floating through life, doing anything your brother demanded to benefit his gang. There was no hope, love, or light in your life until the men whose arms you were wrapped tightly in found you, saved you, and showed you what life was about. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, especially with the violent and bloody end to your brother, but then readjusting to the newfound freedom had taken its toll. The anxiety from your past still haunts you to this very day.

In truth, in the first few years surrounding your brother's death anniversary, you’d celebrated the beginning of your new happiness and life. However, as you grew older and had to live through the dangers of being in the most infamous mafia gang in Brooklyn, your optimistic perspective became somewhat fragile with the realities of becoming close to losing everyone and everything you loved on multiple occasions.

So now, when this dark day loomed over your head once more, your anxiety rose along with the reminder of the horrors that you’d experience throughout your lifetime. Paranoia blossomed into something that was logically not plausible, frightened that somehow, Enzo would return and take you back to the hell hole he once kept you contained within.

These fears had been discussed with both Steve and Bucky on multiple occasions, as well as your friends, who promptly reminded you that nowhere was safer on earth than with all of them. There was 24/7 surveillance within the office and your home, guards patrolling, all armed and trained, as well as having the enhanced bodies of your boyfriends always at your side.

You were safe.

Safe.

And yet, still, there you lay. Wide awake, breaths shallow, trying to remain as quiet as possible so that you may listen to any sounds of intruders walking through your home. It is an impossible feat to do either way due to the pounding of your heartbeat without your ears, the repetitive thump and drum that increased in speed over the minutes. Your palms were becoming clammy where they were resting on Steve’s chest, a faint tremble beginning to throb through your limbs as well. You closed your fingers into a tight fist, attempting to cease the shaking whilst blowing out a long breath as the clock ticked to 00:01 am.

It was no use. You couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t just simply lay there and wait to be attacked or taken.

Carefully as you could, you attempted to climb out of your fierce hold, but due to your fragile state and the firm grip of Steve and Bucky, the movements stirred them both awake.

“Baby? Everything ok? Where are you going?” Steve asked, still half asleep but attempting to rouse himself more by rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Sorry”, you whisper into the darkness, “I just needed to use the bathroom”. The lie trembled from your lips as you clumsily searched the bedroom floor for some clothing to cover your naked body. From the smell of the shirt that you were now tugging over your head, you’d found Bucky’s t-shirt in the dark. As your eyes adjusted to remain in the darkness, you could see Bucky moving closer to Steve on the bed, his face resting on the blonde's chest, replacing where you’d been.

The sight had you smiling for a split second before a rustle of the wind against the windows drew your frightened attention back to reality. Stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, there was a stalling moment where the walls seemed to close around you. Strangling. Suffocation. The fears of your past squeezing closer.

“No”, you chastise yourself in a whisper barely audible as you take a single sweeping step towards the sink, running the cold water to splash it on your face. “Enzo is dead. Stop freaking out, you’re being ridiculous!”. Yes, you were having a conversation with yourself, but only because it was a coping mechanism before you completely lost your mind and had a panic attack.

“Get a hold of yourself!”, you continue the monologue whilst staring at your distressed reflection in the mirror. “You’re safe here in your home”. For some reason, your bottom lip began quivering with the rising emotions and the overwhelming urge to cry. Giving your body a thorough head-to-body shake and angrily wiping away the traitorous tears dripping down your cheeks, you also gave yourself stern talking.

“Either you get yourself together, or you embarrass yourself and wake up Steve and Bucky”. You wouldn’t, not when it was something as irrational as being frightened that your definitely deceased deranged brother would somehow return from the dead to steal you to a life of misery. You couldn’t stomach waking them from their slumber to see the sad puppy eyes they would give you as they told you all the things you already knew. You were safe with them; they’d never let anything bad happen.

Filling your lungs with air, you blew out a long, slow breath until your lungs were completely empty. “Right. One search of the house and back to bed”, you decided, needing to check the surroundings with the hopes it would ease your battle with anxiety and insomnia.

Upon leaving the ensuite bathroom, you were thankfully greeted by the sound of two distinctively soft snores from both men still lying together in bed. Tip-toeing past them and into the hallway, you made sure to keep the lights off with your eyes having adjusted to the darkness as you approached Steve’s office.

There were a few things that you needed from this room. Firstly, to check the security camera feeds from his laptop, showing every angle possible surrounding the house and inside the many rooms of the luxury property. The baseball bat was also hiding beneath the desk. It was one of many weapons stashed throughout your home, carefully placed by both Bucky and his bodyguard Natasha and even though a gun would be a swifter finale for any intruder, there were still more consequences if you were to shoot the firearm accidentally and hit the wrong target whereas, with a bat, you could still keep someone at arm's length and also not fatally wound a friend if they came knocking at the door.

Clutching the smooth bat in both of your trembling hands, you watched the screen, flicking between rooms and areas of the exterior of your home, not spotting a single leaf out of place. In fact, the only emotion that seemed to bloom through your chest was adoration as you stared at the bedroom video feed, noticing that Bucky was now the bigger spoon, wrapped thoroughly around Steve, whose hands were stretched out to your side of the bed, like in his unconscious state, he was still searching for you.

Guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the sight, and closed the laptop with a sigh. You knew this paranoia would fade by the time tomorrow came around. Still, it was completely illogical for you to react rationally today, so with a sigh that echoed around the office, you stood and began to search the property physically.

Holding the bat at arm's length, you peeked around corners first then swung before stepping out. You'd been trained to use all the weapons scattered throughout the house with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, even with how to strike with a baseball bat effectively.

Every shift of shadows out of the corner of your eyes and every creak of the house naturally settling or knocking with the raging winds outside had your heart racing and senses going into full alert.

One check of the house turned into four full sweeps to ensure no one was there. It was also a slow and thorough check, so by the time you were stepping carefully through the kitchen, glancing out of the back window and into the dark abyss that was your back garden. The creak of footsteps echoed from upstairs; you’d become lost and disorientated on the search, and you had neglected to check the time.

05:03 am.

A sniffle and quiet cough followed the footsteps of the man who had decided to wake earlier than most. In a rush of adrenaline and the need to not be found with a baseball bat in hand like a crazy lady in the dark, you decided to hide the weapon in one of the kitchen cupboards and quickly pretended to be preparing coffee as the sleepy steps wandered down the carpeted stairs.

Placing two cups onto the kitchen counter, you almost held your breath in anticipation for the morning grumbly welcome by whoever had woken first. Steve and Bucky both like to be awake early, much to your usual pleas for them to stay in bed.

However, as the man walked into the kitchen, not a single word was shared as he stepped up close behind you, enveloping your body in a warm and metal arm, wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you backwards until flush against a naked chest. Stubbled cheeks nuzzled into your neck as lips gently kissed the sensitive skin as you sighed, eyes closing and all tension diminishing into the floor at the feeling of finally being safe.

The two of you swayed on the spot, wrapped in the tight embrace, listening to the water in the coffee pot. One of your hand gripped onto the metal fingers, feeling the smooth material beginning to warm and match the temperature of your skin. The other hand lifted to rest on the back of his head, scratching his buzzed hair, earning a comforting moan from Bucky as he kissed your jaw.

“It’s a rare day when you’re awake before me”, Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing it. Goosebumps lined your body with the gruff tone of his early morning voice. He didn’t pester you any more about why you were awake at this time, but he did pinch the hem of your shirt. “Is it your plan to always wear my shirts so I must be topless?”

His words pulled a giggle from your lips, shaking your head as you poured the coffee into each cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

The two of you sat at the dining room table, coffee in one hand and in the other you held onto one another, admiring the night turn into the day with dawn breaking over the fences that lined the back garden. It was blissful and a welcomed distraction from the terrors beneath your surface.

Steve eventually joined, groaning about waking up alone as he kissed you, then Bucky on the back of the head. “Who knew the big grown mafia boss could be so needy?” Bucky quipped with a teasing smirk over the rip of his cup before taking another glug of the coffee.

“That’s a lot of sass for someone who will be going without any breakfast if he keeps it up”, Steve grumbles as he looks through the refrigerator to start preparing the three of you breakfast like he did on most mornings. Before Bucky could respond, Steve asked curiously, “Why is there a baseball bat in with the plates?”

Your eyes downcast to stare into your empty cup, shrugging your shoulders at the burning stares of your boyfriends. “I don’t know. Anyway, who wants a fresh coffee?”

Thankfully, nothing more was mentioned regarding the random appearance of the baseball bat as the three of you ate and prepared to head into the office. You were thankful for the distraction working in the gang gave you, especially on a stressful day like today. Although the paranoia and anxiety that had kept you awake still bubbled away beneath the surface.

On the car journey to work, even squished between Steve and Bucky in the back seats, their hands eagerly resting on the naked skin of your thighs, having pushed the dress up to have the contact. Even your bodyguard and best friend Sam, who was driving the vehicle, couldn’t ease the panic that came from every car horn that blared, the dangerously speeding vehicles that passed or just the erratic driving that was expected with other idiots on the road.

Every single disruption had you anticipating that the car you were in would be hit or stopped, and your brother would then arrive and drag you away. Of course, this didn’t happen, and as you came to work, another heavy sigh released from your body as you walked through the extensive security to get to the office.

New shipments of discreetly stolen goods had arrived, which was a welcome distraction for you, checking the quality and organising where and to whom it would be sold. This only lasted for an hour before the coldness began to creep in, and you made excuses to return to Steve and Bucky back in the office.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Bucky reminds you carefully whilst pulling your chair closer to his. You couldn’t meet his intense stare as you shifted your body under his awaiting arm so you were cuddled close to his side.

“Yep”, you respond casually, leaning into his warmth.

Bucky’s face lowered to your ear as he stroked his fingers down your arm. “And you also know you’re safe with me. With Steve. In this building or home. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Doll”.

You smile politely at him, trying to ignore the guilt that, for some reason, passed over you as you reached to take his hand that was draped over your shoulders. “I know”.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bbcky checking his phone for the 15th time in an hour. Not that you’d been counting.

Finally, he seemed to receive the notification he’d been waiting for as he suddenly sprung up from his seat, pulling his leather jacket swiftly.

A frown settled over your features as you sat forward, “where are you going?”

Bucky glanced towards Steve first before addressing your question. “I’ve just got some errands to run, nothing special. I won’t be long, Sweetheart”.

He was leaving you. On a day when you needed him most so that you felt safe, he for some reason had to go.

You stood abruptly, pushing back your chair and taking urgent steps towards him whilst nervously playing with your fingers. “You’re going to leave me on my own!”

“Who am I? The milkman?” Sam joked from where he was standing near the door, and you instantly regretted the words, having not meant them that way. What’s worse is that Steve muttered something under his breath from his desk and now you were riddled with more guilt as Bucky’s sad eyes turned to you, his hands resting heavily on your shoulders.

“I won’t be long, and maybe you’ll get a surprise later.” He tried to bring a smile to your lips, but it was worthless as you were caught between staring at Sam and Steve, trying to find the words to apologise. Bucky breathed heavily through his nose at seeing you distraught, but then his phone pinged again, so with one last kiss to your temple, he made his way to the exit.

Turning to Sam whilst awkwardly rubbing your cheek to ease the burning of embarrassment under your skin, you attempted to apologise, but Steve cut off your sentence. “I’m sorr-”.

“Baby, come here”.

Turning towards the comforting voice, you saw that Steve’s full attention was now on you. He’d moved his seat away from his desk and opened his arm, a clear sign for you to approach, which you did with rushed steps before climbing into his warm, sturdy lap. Your knees rested on either side of his thighs as your fingers caded through the curling blonde hair at the nape of his neck which you were quick to bury your face into, breathing in his calming cologne.

“I’m sorry about the comment; I didn’t mean it like that. I know I’m not alone. My head is just all over the place and-”.

“Shh, I know, baby, you don’t need to explain yourself. I know you’d rather us both be around for you today”. There it was. The one small mention and reference made by someone else that this was a day that you hated. It’s not that it needed to be spoken about as it had been clear that both of your boyfriends had been trying their hardest to be there for you today by being at your side as much as possible, constantly checking in with your emotions and making sure you ate and drank enough.

But Steve saying it out loud seemed to make it all the more real, so as you clung to him with more desperation, his arms did just the same until it felt as if there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t currently being touched by his giant frame.

“I love you, Steve, so much”, you plead to him in a tired daze, finally feeling somewhat safe now that you were crowded into his body.

“I’d do anything for you, baby girl, you know that. I love you too. Try and get some sleep; it’ll make the day go faster”.

You wanted to and knew you could if you’d let your eyes drop close, but something still wasn’t sitting right like an itch that needed to be scratched.

“Could I please make one request… sir?” you say, nerves beginning to flicker through your chest at the intimacy of the request, already starting to switch into the role of the submissive mind, especially after the fragile state you’d been in all day.

Steve seemed to straighten his posture at using the name, and his lips kissed the top of your head a few times before he responded, “Anything”.

Lifting your head away from his neck and gazing into the endlessly intense blue eyes that always looked so kindly down at you, you asked, “Please can we touch everywhere? I just want to sit and be close”.

Steve tried not to smile at the innocence and the way you couldn’t even say the words, ‘Please can I cock warm you?’ which he knew was what you were asking. Reaching between your bodies, he began to undo his belt and zipper, “You know you don’t need to ask, Sweetheart. I want you to feel comfortable”.

You could never explain to someone why you loved the thought of cock warming so much. It seemed to settle both your nerves and put you into a relaxing state. Not at all times, though. Half the time, it would just turn you into a horny, wet mess that ended with you riding the cock until at least three orgasms. But other times, such as now, you just needed to be stretched and feel as close to Steve as possible.

Lifting higher onto your knees, you moved aside your underwear and lifted the front of your dress as you manoeuvred yourself to accommodate the toe-curling length that was Steve Rogers. Through your groaning sigh, you couldn’t hear Steve’s matching noise as he made sure you were comfortable with a steading arm around your hips before shuffling his seat closer to the desk and continuing with his work and talking to Sam about an email he’d just received.

You were asleep before hearing the end of the email being read out. Your head is resting on his shoulder, hands loosely holding onto the material of his crisp navy blue shirt. You were warm, full and safe.

Hours later, as the sun began to set and the day passed, you were still drowsy, much more relaxed than you had been in the morning. You’d wake up to Steve packing his belongings and Sam saying he’d warm the car for you and Steve.

As you gathered your disorientated thoughts and tried to sit up, you noticed that Steve was very much still thoroughly hard inside of your soaked cunt. Silently, you thanked whatever super serum had been injected into him during his time in the army. You clenched at the realisation, and Steve hummed in contentment at realising you were waking up.

“Let’s get you home. Bucky’s waiting there for us”,  Steve informed quietly whilst cupping your cheek tenderly.

With the position you’d been sitting in, your legs were sore and tense, but Steve was more than happy to carry you down, even with his cock still inside. However, with the movements of his steps, it caused his length to ease in and out of your already sensitive cunt that by the time you’d made it to the car, you were clinging desperately to his shoulders as an orgasm rushed through you, pulsing between your legs.

Steve’s knees nearly buckled as he rested your frame against the side of the car, his face dropping to your neck as he breathed you in deeply. Your cunt continued to clench around his cock until he, too, joined you in euphoria with a deep grunt and a snap of his hips; warmth flooded your hole and began dripping out and onto the floor. Neither of you or his employees batted an eyelid as both of you came. 

Once in the car, you were so distracted with cleaning each other up that the idiots in other vehicles that had panicked you on the way in, didn’t remotely phase you.

Wishing Sam a good night, you and Steve walked up to your front door, hand in hand. Steve opened the front door for you, letting you walk into the living room first, where you abruptly stopped, causing the blonde to nearly knock into you.

“I promise I tried to stop him, but he’s a feral little beast!” Bucky exclaimed from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by something that could only be described as chaos.

It seemed all of the decorative pillows had been utterly destroyed as the contents of the fluff covered all of the surfaces. Not only this, but there were half-eaten shoes, and the corners of the couches and coffee table seemed to have tiny bite marks gnawed into them.

“Bucky?! What did you do?” You couldn’t even comprehend where the mess began and ended as you looked at your dishevelled boyfriend sitting on the floor. Well, he was more lying down, reaching beneath one of the couches as he began to sit up and plastered a wide, toothy grin towards you.

“Surprise!” Bucky shouts with exhausted joy as Steve sighs with a shaky laugh from behind you.

“Surprise? What kind of a surprise is my home being destroyed?” you say, gobsmacked, staring longingly at your favourite cushions ripped to shreds.

As Bucky opened his mouth to explain, a tiny yap sounded from beneath the furniture where he’d just been reaching, and suddenly, a bundle of black fur was pounding for your ankles. It took you a second to drop to your knees and gasp, reaching for the puppy.

“Careful! His teeth are viscous”, Bucky warns, trying to reach forward to grab the animal, but you beat him to it and pull the pup into your lap.

“Oh my god, look at you! Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing! Was it you that destroyed my lovely cushions? It was, wasn’t it? That’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you for everything. You're just so damn cute!” you couldn’t help but talk in a childishly high voice as you spoke to the adorable little puppy.

Thankfully, he didn’t bite you with his tiny sharp teeth and instead rolled onto his back on your legs, his paws resting in the air as he waited for a belly rub you happily gave him with carefully placed head kisses.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting a new guard dog! And what happened to the rule of not letting them into the house?” you asked Bucky as you continued to pet the pup.

Steve squatted down next to you, reaching to stroke the puppy behind his ears but then quickly retreating as the tiny sharp teeth nearly nipped his fingers. “He’s not going to be a guard dog; he’s going to be your dog”.

Your head spun with how fast you looked between your boyfriends as you screamed, “What?!”

“Yep! He’s all yours. He’s a Rottweiler and is eight weeks old. They’re known to be a protective breed and great guard dogs, so we will have him properly trained a couple of times a week for this, but we also want him to be yours”. As Bucky explained he knelt closer which earned the attention of your new puppy who watched him closely but continued to lick your fingers in between as you scratched the top of his head.

Steve rested a firm hand on your lower back as he continued, “We know how difficult today is, even with our reassurance that you are safe from Enzo”. Even just hearing his name, your whole body tightens and locks, almost forgetting to breathe until a certain puppy begins to wiggle and try and jump up your body to attempt to lick your face, having noticed the change in demeanour. “We wanted there to be someone around for you all the time, just with the chance that you could still feel safe if Bucky or I weren’t by your side. So, we are hoping this little rascal will be able to do this”, Steve says playfully, stroking along the puppy's back but quickly withdrawing when he nearly nipped again.

“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin with telling you how amazing this gift is”, you say brightly, glancing between the two men you loved most in the world.

“Don’t thank us; it’s the least we could do”, Steve mutters whilst leaning in to kiss your cheek and then standing up, beginning to grab handfuls of fluff from all the surfaces with an attempt at cleaning up the mess.

“I just want you to be happy”, Bucky whispers whilst kissing your other cheek, but then his gaze moves to the puppy, and a line forms between his brows as he frowns. “There will be some ground rules, though. No dog on the couch or in bed. We need boundaries”.

You nod your head in understanding but lean closer to whisper to the pup loud enough that Steve and Bucky could still hear. “Don’t listen to the grumpy old man. You can stay wherever you’d like!”

Bucky sighs whilst rolling his eyes and begins to help Steve with cleaning.

The three of you were sat in front of the TV watching a late-night film. The four of you were sitting on the couch as the puppy was resting in your lap, exhausted from all the playing you’d been doing and now resting as you tried to think of a name for the little guy.

“What about Winchester? That’s a good dog name, right?” you ask the boys, but mostly the dog, hoping he would react to one of the suggestions, but he hasn’t succeeded so far. You pondered some more whilst petting his little black ears. “Oh, what about Sargeant?! No… what about Rogers? No…”. You gave up trying to think of a name off the top of your head and began to scroll for suggestions online.

“Max? Brutus? Thor? Um, nope, these aren’t good. Chase? Ari? Bullet? Dodger? Bli-” Your suggestions stop as the puppy’s head tilts to look at you, seeming more awake. “What is it? Is it one of the names? Ari?” No response, “Bullet?” still no response. “Dodger?” his precious little tail began to wag as he yapped.

“Dodger? You like that name?” he barked again, attempting to climb higher up your body to lick your face as you laughed fondly.

“Dodger it is”, Steve announced from your side with a smile.

[hemlock-dreams]

Any loser facts abt Peter in your universe? I see all Spider-Man's having atleast one (Or several) moments of "The Parker's luck", like swinging and falling into the dumpster, being the Smart-but-dumb person, or doing smth cringe to the point to embarass and make them stay awake at night

And I think it would be funny as hell if he is this smart, hot, skillful, intelligent with tragic backstory but still a little bit of a loser

Hunting!Spiderman is absolutely a loser.

His biggest public embarrassment was taking on Captain America in his OG world. They were on opposite sides for some comic shenanigan reason or another, and ended up having to fight.

Captain America laid Spiderman out to fucking dry. Full on KO. He was obliterated, so completely and effectively that he legitimately had a crisis about it.

Even worse, Captain picked him up over the shoulder and took him to safety afterward. He woke up asking what time and year it was.

it was captured live on Tiktok, and mem-ed to absolute hell. Tags like #Spideryamcha and #Spideybeatdown were trending for weeks. JJ split the video into single frames and ran it on every website/article/blog of the Bugle.

Halloween was brutal. And endless stream of couple costumes, kids dressed as Captain America with spider-plushies, beach towels with Spidey's image, advertised thrown over the shoulder. God the Spotify playlist... (Beating me up/Mama Said Knock you Out/Getting Beaten Up/Lay Me/I'm a loser/Bad Day...and so on)

Now, to be clear, Spiderman has had his fair share of losses. He's not invulnerable- and to most of the masses, the power difference between Captain America and Spiderman is minimal.

But Spiderman knows better.

For reference, Captain America is an enhanced human. He's fast, strong, dexterous- and can lift up to 1200 pounds.

Spiderman can go toe-to-toe with the Hulk. Spiderman can lift up to 25 tons.

This shouldn't have been even close. And it wasn't. This is when Peter realized that having mutated muscles and superhuman strength didn't mean anything if he didn't know how to use them. Most of his rogues gallery up until that point (Rhino, Vulture, the classics-) were just dudes with souped up bodies/tech.

Captain America, highly trained and disciplined, was able to read him like a flimsy pamphlet, capitalizing on all his weaknesses to take Spidey out like yesterday's garbage.

TLDR: Spiderman got hilarious humbled on Tiktok and his rep took a hit that never totally recovered.

For new world Loser facts:

-Peter Parker is living above St. Margaret's on Weasel's charity. -Has to basically work for free for room and board -Has literally no friends or family (yet) -Can't hold a Starkphone in the right direction to save his life Stay tuned for more!

[innorogers]

Lull

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: So this is when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking.

Warning: Fluff / SMUT / MINORS DNI / 18+ / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia

You slipped through the streets like shadows, holding hands, hearts racing, eyes darting over your shoulders, every sound amplified by the silence of the night. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder – or ‘Magic Stark-Potter Thing’ as Steve was calling it – had granted you some safe time. But time was fragile, and you both knew it.

Your powers pulsed beneath your skin, guiding Steve with quiet certainty. You could feel the city’s pulse, see through the walls, and peer into the hidden corners of every alley. You led him down paths that no one else knew, invisible threads pulling you toward safety. The streets, immersed in late hours after midnight, stretched before you like the remnants of some secret map.

When you reached a narrow street swallowed by the night, you knelt down and moved a pile of old garbage cans aside, revealing a small, grimy basement window. You glanced back at Steve, and gestured for him to follow you down.

Turned out to be an underground club, and the party was just getting good.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. Neon lights painted the walls in erratic colors—electric blues and deep reds—while people shouted over the pounding music, their laughter swallowed by the deafening noise.

You exchanged a look with Steve as you pushed through the crowd. His usual composed demeanor flickered, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene while staying close behind you. You weaved through the press of bodies, brushing against strangers lost in their own worlds, music vibrating through your bones as you both made your way to the other side. It felt like a different universe—one that was wild, loud, and completely unaware of the chaos lurking outside its walls.

“I need a computer!” You raised your voice so he could hear.

“I really don’t think you’ll find one here.” He almost laughed, holding your waist and waving through the people around you as you moved forward.

“I know.” You tilted your jaw. “But that’s perfect, look.” You pointed to the computer they used as a register to take orders. “An older one, probably. I need to enter an untraceable code; our network is probably compromised, so I need to notify the only being who can’t be hacked or corrupted.”

“Really?” Now he was intrigued. “Who?”

“Vision.” You continued to scan the place as you moved through the dancing crowd. “These machines won’t work, they’re plugged into their private network. I’ll need something connected to the outside. C'mon… let’s go to another floor.” It was a huge underground bar, so you held Steve’s hand and moved to the stairs.

“I think we’ve got company.” Steve tightened his grip as he noticed some guys entering the floor. They looked like military—tense poses and sharp, alert eyes scanning the place. He looked up and saw more of them on the floor above, near the exits and moving through the whole place.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time. I think there’s some gear on me that’s making us trackable.” You hurried with him to go down, but stopped when those military men started coming from downstairs. You pulled him aside, hiding in a dark corner, but they weren’t leaving. Steve’s figure—tall, handsome, blonde—was too easy to recognize. A lot of women (and men) were looking at him with flirtatious eyes, intrigued.

You passed by corridors and stairs full of people, using your powers and his sensitive perception to navigate the space. The men didn’t notice you were there, but their eyes were everywhere.

You felt Steve’s body tense beside you, ready to attack at any moment, and the place would turn into hell if that happened. You cupped his face, pulling him closer to the wall, your eyes scanning behind him.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you…” You smirked as the men passed by, and with your hand on his neck, you kissed him deeply.

Shit. Steve’s body went rigid.

This was the worst place and the worst time, but somehow, it felt so right. He’d almost forgotten how much he needed this. The moment your lips met his, your body pressed against his, the scent of smoke and debris clinging to you from the chase. But your kiss, it grounded him—reminded him why every risk was worth it.

He kissed you in the flicker of shadows, under the flashing lights, in a dark corner of an underground club. Drunk, dancing strangers moved in their own ecstasy, oblivious to the danger. It wasn’t something he ever imagined doing, but then again, you always brought the unexpected. And again...How could you ever think he’d choose anyone else over you? Over this?

He deepened the kiss, pinning you to the wall, his tongue brushing yours, and it felt so right… you tasted like sweetness, laced with something wild, like sin and salvation entwined.

“Steve…” You broke away, eyes still on the men as they passed, and he lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist. You grinned. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

“Well…” He chuckled, voice rough. “I think it’s the perfect time for this.”

“Come on. Let’s move now that we have the chance.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before starting to move.

Taking advantage of the lack of enemies in sight, you made it to the last floor through doors and hidden passageways and arrived at what seemed to be a VIP room.

“There we go.” Your eyes locked onto a computer next to a more sophisticated bar. “That’ll do.” But as you approached, Steve’s senses sharpened, picking up the tension of a threat.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a group of men—tall, armed, and bearing the unmistakable faces of movie villains. Why do they always look like the bad guys? He sighed, slowly rolling up his sleeves. Well, it was about damn time. He had been holding back this feeling of wanting to punch someone ever since a bomb exploded near your car.

“Mmm?” You turned back and noticed the surroundings. The only guy who had been on a date at a corner table rushed out with his partner as soon as the room filled with the approaching men, circling both of you. He was even polite enough to close the door behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked at the 1, 2, 3… 15 men surrounding you.

“Gentlemen, there’s really no need for this to escalate…” You advised as the tension thickened, movements slowing to a crawl before the inevitable first strike.

“Shut up, doll. We’ll take care of you later.” Said the man who seemed to be their leader, smirking at you. “And believe me, you’ll be well attended.”

“Oh … you really shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, already sensing Steve’s fists clenching in response.

“Sir, you’re about to get the smash of your life…” You spun just in time to grab the bartender’s hand as he reached for a weapon beneath the desk, a fight breaking out behind you. “Please don’t do that.” You blinked at him. “I just need to borrow your computer, okay?”

“Um…” The bartender, startled by your strong grip, noticed the Avengers logo on your gear and quickly reconsidered. “Um… this thing runs on Windows Millennium. Like…Yikes.” He gestured at the ancient machine. “Don’t you need something, I don’t know, more modern?”

“It’ll do, thanks.” You hopped over the bar counter and began typing. “If it doesn’t send Vision a signal, it’ll at least ping him with a virus warning.”

The moment Steve moved, the air shifted.

The first punch landed with the force of a freight train, sending one of the goons crashing into a table, shattering glass and upending chairs. Chaos erupted in the room as fists and bodies collided. Steve ducked under a wild swing, his movements sharp and precise, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that left another attacker sprawled on the floor. Damn, this is so boring. A punching bag in the training room felt even heavier.

One of the armed men lunged at him with a knife, but Steve twisted to the side, catching the man’s wrist and flipping him over with ease. The crack of bones echoed as the thug hit the ground hard, and Steve was already turning, launching a swift kick into another man’s chest, sending him crashing through the VIP room’s thin partition wall.

“Babe, you got that?” He moved his head, avoiding a knife—or whatever sharp thing was coming from the back—grabbed the guy by his arm, and twisted it like a towel.

“Just a sec.” You were typing the commands as bottles clinked and tables flew across the room, the thumping bass from the club floor below barely audible over the grunts and crashes of the fight. 

“Just… okay, there.” You turned to the bartender: “Do you want me to upgrade this system for you?”

The bartender wanted to answer, but suddenly bent over as a guy was thrown and hit against the wine cellar. He covered his head and screamed, so you raised your eyebrows and took that as a no.

With only three men left standing, they hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with each other as if silently deciding who would make the first move. But that took forever, and Steve was getting bored. He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him down onto the tables, the impact scattering bottles and glasses across the floor.

Before the next guy could even react, Steve spun, delivering a swift elbow to the second man’s jaw, sending him reeling backward into a bookshelf, knocking it over with a deafening crash.

The last man, clearly outmatched, pulled out a gun in a desperate attempt to regain control. But Steve was faster. In one fluid motion, he ducked low, dodging the shot, and surged forward, ripping the gun from the man’s hand and delivering a bone-crushing punch to his gut. The man doubled over in pain, gasping for breath, before Steve finished him off with a knee to the face, leaving him crumpled on the ground.

The room was now littered with unconscious bodies, shattered glass, and overturned furniture.

“Wow…” You said in awe. “You didn’t even sweat.” You were thinking that he sweats more when he’s in bed with you.

And he laughed, thinking the same: “I’m saving that for later.”

Just as the dust was settling and Steve was wiping his hands clean, the door burst open, and Tony sauntered in, his suit gleaming in the dim light.

"Everybody freeze!" Iron man said in a mechanical voice behind his helmet, raising his hand and pointing at… nothing. Then he lowered it, noticing the room was still, filled only with men groaning in pain on the floor, while you and Steve rolled your eyes at him.

"What? I was already nearby when Vis delivered the message just three seconds ago. It's not like I'm late..." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of unconscious bodies and broken furniture, clearly unfazed by the chaos, as the team led by Maria and Sam entered the room with their weapons raised.

"Get 'em all; we need intel," Steve sighed as he walked over to you. "There’s a lot of interrogation to do." He pulled you close. "C'mon, let's go home."

It was almost sunrise when you arrived at the compound. You slept a bit in the car, and when the heroes started debating in the command room about the next steps and strategies, you stretched your body and headed to the dressing room yawning.

You needed a cold water shower to clear your mind before helping Tony and Bruce decipher all the information. Plus, you had to get out of this suit that smelled like grilled cement, ashes, and burnt fabric.

Ugh, you were a mess. You opened the locker and started unzipping the gear when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you.

Steve’s arms locked around you before you could turn. He restrained your wrists as a frenzied kiss landed on your lips, fingers laced with yours, pinning you against the wall. While holding you captive with one hand, he explored your wrists with the other.

He was burning.

The kiss deepened, and all the feelings he had been holding back since the car chase, was poured into the embrace. 

He was so turned on by everything that had happened—the adrenaline, the action, the danger, and the risks. He was impressed, and aroused, so fucking aroused.

He knew you were special, but you didn’t even blink during the chaos. 

There were explosives, drones, and the entire freaking Iron Army chasing you in a car, and you didn’t step back an inch.

This unyielding, unwavering, fierce-as-fuck version of you was driving him insane.

“Steve…?” You broke the kiss because you needed air, though you were enjoying it. “Are you okay?” Didn’t you just kind of… escape from death?

“Better than ever.” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I need you.” He said this while lowering your gear’s zipper, inhaling as your breasts sprang free from your clothes. He groaned, kneading them with desperate need.

Oh, okay… You moaned, tilting your head back when he sucked and lapped at them. Your gear was only half off as he pulled down your pants, kicked them aside, lifted your leg around his waist, and plunged into your already soaked folds.

Oh, wow. You gasped in awe as your inner walls stretched wide, completely filled by him, and your bodies slamming against the lockers.

And that’s when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking. 

Yup, what you’d been doing every night was making love. But this… 

This was Steve fucking you. And fucking you hard.

The pace was brutal, pounding with relentless intensity. He held your leg and gripped your ass to keep you in position. With one hand on your neck, forcing eye contact, he fucked you harder and harder.

His voice was hoarse and raw, groaning with lust. When he saw you bite your lip to stay quiet, he smiled and quickened his pace.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you kissed me in the nightclub…” He said, his body slamming into yours, locking you against the lockers.

“Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd…” With those images in mind, he murmured in your ear, his thrusts becoming stronger, admiring how waves of pleasure overtook you, making you pressed your leg tighter to his waist, your breath coming in silent gasps, pleading for more.

“Steve…” You could barely whisper. You couldn’t catch your breath as he pounded into you, shaking your body with the force of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his back, trying to hold back your voice, biting your lower lip so the moans wouldn’t escape. You didn’t even know if he had locked the door—someone could walk in at any moment.

But he was so hard, his pace so fast and relentless, completely out of control.

Steve never came before you did. He always made sure you were satisfied first. But this time, he cums when you finally gave in and moaned his name, his release hot and thick inside you.

Before you could even process it, he pulled out and turned you around.

Your breasts hit the lockers as his hands gripped your waist. He positioned you, and just when you were about to inhale, he was inside you again.

Fuck! This felt so good…! Steve never felt this urge, never wanted this so bad, his eyes darkening with further lust and desire, his hands pressing your waist and squeezing your bouncing ass cheek as he sees how he thrusts inside out of you. 

You are so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect for his cock, as you were tailored made for him. He was probably hard since you commanded him in the car, with that badass attitude and fierce determination, and now you were leaning there, with your elbows against the locker, your tits bouncing as he strokes, your ass cheeks marked as he squeezes and rubs them, and your folds still dripping remains of his last cum. Totally at his mercy. 

Fuck, this is hot.

He was going wild. Seeing you trying to mute what at home would be the sweetest or wildest moan, only spur him on, driving him to fuck you with greater velocity, snapping forward with greater intensity. 

“Let go, babe…” He said, snapping his hips forward. Each thrust hit that perfect spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through both of your bodies. “Let it go… Cum for me honey… Come on… I know you’re about to…”

He leaned forward, grabbed your face, and kissed you fiercely, his tongue claiming yours. His hand found your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples until they stiffened, begging for attention.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good…” His voice was a ragged, hot breath near your ear. His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continued to fuck you. 

Your moans were loader, and your clit was so sensitive, it couldn’t take more contact, Steve’s thumbs rubbed faster and stronger, and as he continues to fuck you in your spot, when he feels your walls about to clamp, he just whispers in a determined tone in your ear. “Cum, now.”

It was like he had a switch that controlled your body. Your inner walls clenched at his command, and you gave in, cumming long and hard around his cock, your body trembling. All you were making was lust sounds, mumbling his name, trying to breathe and to recover to the ecstasy that went from your clit to your mind. 

“That’s it, my love…” He smiled with satisfaction, hissing through clenched teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you into another fervent kiss.

When his lips sealed yours, the thrusts became faster and rougher, uncontrollable moans escaping as his hands roamed over your breasts. His movements were frenetic, chasing his own orgasm.

You moved with him, drunk on lust, oblivious to everything else. You felt his hands squeezing harder, his gasps becoming heavier, his cock growing bigger and stronger. Finally, he buried himself inside you, erupting and flooding your depths with a hot load of cum. His hips jerked involuntarily as the last drops spilled inside you, and he was finally satisfied.

“Oh…god… fuck, babe…” He had one hand still rubbing your tits, another pressing your clit and feeling his cum overload your folds, and his body resting in yours, covered with sweat, gear at his feet, when the extreme edge washed over him. “That…was…amazing.”

"Steve..." You panted as he pulled out and turned you around, instantly leaning into him. "I need to sit..." Your knees were weak, and your thighs hurt a little, but in a good way, a very good way.

He let out a soft laugh. "I’m so sorry..." He kissed your forehead as he lifted you onto the bench and covered you with his shirt. "Did I hurt you? Oh..." He winced at the marks on your waist and thighs, nearly bruised from his hands.

"Shit, babe... I’m sorry I got carried away." His voice softened, apologetic. "Does it hurt?" He pressed a kiss on your wrists, where he had also been holding on so tight. "Fuck... I’m sorry."

"No." You grinned and kissed him back. "It was amazing..." You leaned toward him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "I loved it. We should have more missions like this."

"As much as I’d love to..." He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, holding you close. "I hate the danger around you. But hey..." He hesitated for a moment. "About what I said earlier..."

"'Cum, now'?" You imitated his voice, and he let out a loud laugh.

"No, earlier..."

"Mmm..." You recalled your eidetic memory. "'Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd'?"

Your eyes brightened. "You wanna go back to the nightclub so we can make out?"

Steve actually considered it for a second. "We’ll talk about that later... but no, I meant what I said in the car before the Iron Army attacked us like Ultron’s possessed children."

"Yeah..." You didn’t remember. Well, no, you weren’t listening. "I was distracted by the giant bomb headed toward us, babe... I’m sorry I didn’t hear."

He leaned back, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Okay, what I was saying..." Now he was looking right at you. He cupped your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "I think it’s just been proven how deeply, madly, utterly in love I am with you. I don’t have eyes for anyone else..."

"Ohhh!" Now you connected the dots. "So we’re talking about my insecurities because you hung out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend all day?"

"She’s not..." Steve sighed, then softened his voice. "Well, there. There’s nothing for you to be insecure about. I love you. Only you. And I think I’ve proven my desire to be with you forever with the ring..."

"What?" Now you were shocked. "Wait, what?" You sat up straight. "Was the ring really... really... a ring?"

"Of course it is. What else would it be?"

"Um... you said it was a tracking device."

"It is." Steve sighed. "But eventually, when all this is over, it will be just a ring that means: you’re the love of my life, and I want to be with you forever." He smiles at your incredulous face, and holds you in his embrace, placing a kiss on your forehead: "In this life, and all the lifetimes to come. I want only you."

You stared at him, speechless, feeling the warmth of his arms around you and the weight of his words settling in. His gaze was so full of love, it made your heart race. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, but then you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his.

"Steve..." You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything." He replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just... stay with me. That’s all I need."

You smiled, your heart overflowing. "Yes." You kissed him back. "Now. Always. Forever."

"Okay, now that we’re good..." He lifted you up in his arms. "C’mon princess, let’s take a bath, we are a mess here."

Oh. You raised your eyebrows. You don’t know who he’s kidding; you both know how this was going to end.

The End but TBD :)

Continue to:

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

And that's a wrap for chapter 8! Wohoo, I'm so glad I've made it to write a complete smut!! xD I really suck at writing it in english :D So with so many wonderful writers out there, thank you for reading up to here, hope you enjoyed it :D And thanks everyone for participating in the poll last post xD Can't believe fluff won, come on some angst and then a fluff and happy ending won't hurt, right? xD

I'll see you next friday for chapter 9! Wow 9 chapters!! <3

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[vampsywrites]

III — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, A LOT of romantic tension

Word Count: 4.5k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

In the early morning light, you took Neteyam to a secluded spot in the village, away from prying eyes. Aside from being Tsahìk, your expertise in climbing with ropes and harnesses was also well-known, and you had taken it upon yourself to teach him the ropes — quite literally.

As you began the lesson, your arms gently guided him, demonstrating the proper way to tie and secure the rope over his waist and thighs. 

"Tuck this into here," you instructed, your voice soothing yet firm. "This must be tight to ensure safety. Watch."

Neteyam looked on, watching intently but his attention was elsewhere. 

Instead of fully absorbing your instructions. his eyes remained fixated on every detail of your unique appearance. From the slope of your flat nose, the curve of your lips, and the thickness of your eyelashes that accentuated your big, milky eyes. Along with this was his strange fascination with your frosty blue skin, ample and adorned with delicate ivory specks.

"Are you listening?" you check.

"Yes," he affirmed but this was far from the truth. 

In Neteyam's defense, he was listening, just not in the way you might have wanted. From the moment you met, you had been a woman of few words — reserved, and enigmatic. However, now, as you took on the role of his karyu, his teacher, Neteyam saw an opportunity to experience a different, more personal side of you. And so, he wanted to etch the sound of your voice into his memory, to savor every word that left your lips. 

Your voice had a lilt that captivated him — calm yet firm, with a low and husky undertone that was enhanced by your distinct Iuva'rian accent. Every now and then, your words would subtly slip, and your village dialect would shine through, adding an intriguing layer of depth to your teaching.

The sound of you clearing your throat snapped him out of his deep thoughts, and the Omatikayan blinked blearily, shaking his head for a few seconds to refocus his attention. Dismissing his momentary distraction, you reached out and handed him the end of the rope.

"Attach the end of the rope to this tree," you instructed, pointing to a massive pine nearby. Neteyam moved to tie a secure anchor around the trunk, ensuring it would hold firm. You then took the other end of the rope and demonstrated how to loop it through his harness, which was fashioned from sturdy leather. To your relief, Neteyam paid proper attention this time and followed your instructions to the best of his ability.

"This harness will distribute your weight. Allowing you to use your hands and legs more freely," you explained, patting the leather. "It is your lifeline."

Stepping back, your eyes ran up and down his body, assessing everything. You noticed how he hadn't secured his harness properly, the rope left uncomfortably loose. With a huff of disapproval, you settled in front of him, your focused gaze fixed on his mistake. Your hands, soft yet purposeful, moved with practiced ease as you adjusted the harness, ensuring it was secure and would hold his weight properly. 

As your fingers brushed against his lower abdomen and thighs, a surge of static energy seemed to pass between you, and a shiver ran up Neteyam's spine from the unexpected sensation. The closeness between you, the shared proximity, made his heart race, and he found himself mesmerized by every move you made.

Tilting your head up, you caught his gaze, and a lopsided frown appeared on your lips. 

"You are looking at me with those eyes again," you chided.

"What eyes?" he murmured, still dazed and lost in his admiration of you.

"You must stop staring at me," you responded with a hint of a snarl, trying to bring his focus back to the lesson.

"Can't I stare at my future mate?" he grinned smugly, tail swinging by his feet languidly.

In response, you hissed and gave him a light slap on the side of his head. "Focus. Your form is bad. Fix it."

With an amused expression, Neteyam firmly gripped the side of the rock wall and adjusted his posture, heart set on impressing you and proving his worth.

"No," you tutted, stepping back to demonstrate the proper posture. You inhaled deeply, showcasing how to engage the core muscles and tighten the abdomen.

"Stronger," you instructed, tapping at your tensed stomach to emphasize the point.

He tried to emulate your actions, sucking in air and adjusting his form, but the task proved more arduous than he anticipated. Frustration flickered across your face, and Neteyam couldn't help but feel a pang of dissatisfaction, his ego taking a hit.

Again, you moved towards him, now pressing your front against his back. As your arms encircled him, a wave of searing heat surged through his body, leaving him breathless. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as your breath brushed against the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

Your hands, warm and gentle, traced the contours of his bare, muscled skin as you adjusted his arms and sides. The intimate touch sent his mind into a whirlwind of emotions, and he struggled to focus on anything other than the intoxicating proximity between you.

Finally, once his form was proper, you stepped away to view his posture, still unaware of the effect your touch had on him.

"Good," you hummed with approval. "Keep that form as we climb."

As you prepared him to start ascending, you placed a calming hand atop his chest, noticing how his heart pounded rapidly beneath your touch. Unaware of the true reason for his flustered state, you peered up at him, thinking he might be having second thoughts about the climb.

"You are scared?" you questioned, the slightest hint of concern in your voice.

"'M not scared," his words came out in a mumble as he tried to hide the truth. "Why would I be scared?"

Huffing softly, you made one last adjustment to his form, your hands gently pressing at his hard abdomen and slapping at any awkward limb placement, an effort to help him overcome whatever uncertainties he might be facing. 

"Listen. As you climb, I'll stay below to control the rope. If you slip or lose your grip, I'll hold the rope tight to catch you," your small hands brushed up his jawline, turning his head to face you. "Trust me as I trust you."

"Got it," Neteyam nodded and began his climb. He moved upward, his hands trembling as he gripped the coarse surface of the rock, his fingers struggling to find solid handholds. Each time he tried to place his foot on a protruding edge, it slipped, sending small pebbles cascading down the cliff face. 

He took a moment to assess the rock in front of him, his eyes scanning for the best path upward. After a few deep breaths to steady himself, he made a decision and reached out, testing a small crevice with his fingertips. It seemed secure enough, so he cautiously shifted his weight and pulled himself upward.

"Ngh!" Neteyam grunted, his biceps straining as he lifted himself higher up the rock wall. Despite his efforts, his initial progress was still awkward and uncoordinated. He swung his legs around, searching for footholds, but it seemed like every attempt led to more frustration. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his face burned with both exertion and embarrassment as he struggled to find his rhythm.

He had thought it would be easy, considering how he climbed trees all the time back home, but the mountains presented a whole new challenge. They lacked branches or sturdy trunks to cling onto; instead, they were rough, wide, and open, demanding an entirely different set of skills.

"You are like a baby! You think too much!" you scolded, picking up on his indecision and observing the rigid strain in his back muscles. "Find the holdings in the rock!"

"I am trying," Neteyam replied, voice tinged with frustration. The rough terrain scratched at his skin, his arms strained as he struggled to find the right grip, and the weight of each step felt heavier with every passing moment. "It is not as easy as you say it is!"

"Look for the natural holds, the cracks, and the crevices," you advised, drawing from your own experiences scaling these heights. "Use your instincts, and trust your body. The mountain will guide you."

Neteyam nodded, but his struggles persisted, and it was evident that he was stiff, overthinking each and every step. If he continued on like this, the risk of a fall was high.

"Mawey. Take a moment to rest," you urged firmly. He obliged and halted his movements.

With the climb momentarily paused, Neteyam caught his breath and tilted his head back to take in the breathtaking view before him. The sight punched a gasp out from his chest—the vast fields stretching out like a painted canvas, the lush forests below, carpeting the landscape in vibrant greens, and the riders gracefully soaring on their ikrans high above. 

The soft caress of the gentle breeze kissed his cheeks, carrying along leaves and the scents of flora that adorned the mountain's slopes. As the wind brushed through his hair, Neteyam closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the peace and tranquility that settled over him. 

"Try again, Neteyam," you shouted up at him. "Let the rock guide you. Slow your pace and take your time; it's not a race."

Taking a deep breath, Neteyam attempted to ease his pace, allowing himself a moment to study the wall of stone before him. He faintly began to recognize the patterns and natural holds, the crevices, and folds that could be used to his advantage.

With newfound focus, he started to move more freely, trusting his instincts and allowing his body to flow with the terrain. His motions became less rigid, and he started to use the momentum of his body to propel himself upward, one confident movement at a time.

"That's it," you encouraged, an impressed smile gracing your face. "You are learning to climb. Let the mountain become an extension of yourself."

As Neteyam climbed higher, he discovered a sense of connection with the ancient stone, almost as if he and it were in sync. The initial clumsiness gave way to a familiarity he hadn't known he possessed. The wind played with his hair, and the distant calls of the mountain banshees echoed through the slopes above. Time seemed to slow as he focused solely on the present moment, the climb becoming an intimate conversation between him and the mountains.

Overlooking the village, you and Neteyam now stood at the high plateau, the world spread out below you like a vast canvas. The mountains had always been your personal sanctuary, a place where you found peace and strength, a respite away from the stress of your responsibilities. So, seeing Neteyam experience this awe-inspiring view for the first time brought a smile to your face.

You moved to sit by him, taking his hands in yours, and carefully tending to the scratches on his arms with a salve you always carried. The soothing ointment provided a gentle touch to his roughened skin, and he looked at you with a mix of gratitude and affection.

"It is rare for someone to pick things up so quickly. You are a very fast learner," you say, breaking the silence to praise him. "You also do not give up easily. You have a strong heart."

"Thank you," Neteyam replied, pride evident in his voice as he preened from your heartfelt compliments, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks.

He then turned his attention back towards the view, his eyes sparkling with wonder and captivation as he beheld the breathtaking beauty spread out before him. 

"It is like nothing I've ever seen," Neteyam marveled, his voice thick with an accent native to the forests. "Back home the sky is usually hidden by tall trees. You'd have to climb up one if you want a glimpse."

Pausing your ministrations, you leaned toward him. "Tell me more," you urged, genuinely curious. "What is it like in the forest?"

A spark ignited in Neteyam's eyes as he delved into a passionate account of his experiences in his home village. He spoke with animated enthusiasm, painting vivid pictures of the lush greenery that adorned the landscape, each vibrant flora seemingly glowing with its own bioluminescent brilliance. The rivers and cascading waterfalls he described were a source of life, teeming with an abundance of fresh fish. 

With every word, he brought to life the swift direhorses, their graceful forms racing across the terrain, and the fearsome thanators, lean and agile stalking through the night. Mixed in with that joy, there was a longing in his voice, a yearning to experience it once more.

"Do you miss it?" you asked, cutting him off gently, your keen perception sensing the ache in his heart.

"Yes," he sighed wistfully, the weight of nostalgia evident in his chest. "I really do."

You offered a comforting presence, placing a hand over his shoulder in a gesture of solace. The two of you then moved to lay on the soft grass, resting side by side in the embrace of nature. A companionable silence settled between you, hearts connected over the memories of home and the beauty of the world you both cherished.

In the midst of this peaceful moment, a question that had lingered in your mind resurfaced.

"Neteyam?" you called out, turning on your side. His ears flicked in curiosity as he looked towards you, brows raised.

"The banshee you rode a few days ago... Was she yours?" you murmured softly.

"Yes," Neteyam confirmed, a fond smile touching his lips. "Do you want to meet her?"

You nodded eagerly, and he stood up, offering you a hand. You took it, his battle-hardened palm was rough against your skin but his touch had a comforting warmth to it. With a gentle tug, he effortlessly lifted you off the ground, dragging you toward the edge of the peak.

Emitting a powerful cry, Neteyam called for his ikran, the sound echoing through the air. Moments later, the sky came alive with the powerful flapping of wings, and she arrived with a resonating squawk. Her mighty form hovered before you, and you were left breathless by the sight of her robust wings enveloped in the light. 

As she landed gracefully before you, you couldn't help but be in awe of her presence. Her eyes, filled with intelligence and a hint of curiosity, locked onto yours, and it felt as though she could see into your very soul.

Neteyam approached his ikran with a calm and composed demeanor making tsaheylu.

"This is Seze," he introduced you to her. "I have been flying with her ever since I was thirteen."

Your excitement was palpable as you gazed upon the majestic banshee before you. Your hand reached out cautiously, not wanting to startle her, as you gently stroked her strong chest and neck. The sensation of her thick, supple skin beneath your fingers sent a thrill through your entire being.

"She is beautiful," you cooed, tail swishing behind you in joy. 

"Yes. Very beautiful." Neteyam's response was soft, and though he agreed with your sentiment, it was clear that his focus wasn't on Seze. Instead, his gaze was fixed on you, and you could feel the intensity of his stare as if he was trying to memorize every detail of your being. There was something in the way he looked at you, a certain depth of emotion that couldn't be easily put into words.

A warm and shy smile graced your lips as you turned away from Neteyam, now facing back toward the vast expanse of the open sky.

"I too will show you mine," you declared. With a sharp whistle, you called for your ikran to join the encounter. 

In response to your call, your spirit sister appeared in all her glory, gliding gracefully through the air before landing near you with an air of elegance. Beaming, you watched as her wings fluttered in excitement. It had been long since you last met up with her. Your duties as Tsahìk had kept you busy for a long, long while.

"This is Ayvit. She is my spirit sister," you proudly gestured to her. Reaching for your kuru, you gently made tsaheylu, cooing affectionately at your sweet girl.

"It is nice to meet her," Neteyam said warmly as he moved to run a hand up your ikran's snout. Ayvit let out a soft chirp as if acknowledging Neteyam and his banshee, and you couldn't help but smile at the interaction between them.

"I think she likes me," he remarked, observing the gentle way Ayvit tilted her head in his direction.

"Yes, you are very likable," you replied, timidly averting your gaze to the ground.

"I am?" Neteyam grinned, his expression filled with a mix of amusement and charm. It was evident that his confidence had grown during your time together, and that paired with your newfound ease around his presence further deepened your growing relationship.

With a shake of your head, you gently nudged at his head in a playful manner. Then, turning around, you reached into Ayvit's saddle, retrieving a riding visor from the compartment. As you lifted it up, it became evident that this visor was unlike anything Neteyam was accustomed to seeing back home.

Your riding visor had an exotic design, native to your clan. It was rounder and adorned with vibrant colors and shimmering gems, a striking contrast to the simpler styles he was used to. The woven headpiece was crafted in a soft lilac hue, complementing your skin's natural blue tone. 

After slipping off your headpiece that denoted your status as Tsahìk, you placed the visor atop your head, securing it around your ears. The moment seemed to mark a shift, as you felt a sense of liberation wash over you as if you were shedding the formalities to reveal a more unburdened and personal side of yourself to Neteyam.

With practiced ease, you moved towards Ayvit, a rush of anticipation surging through your veins. You climbed onto the saddle, feeling the smooth, cool leather beneath your fingertips. Quickly, you secured yourself, making sure the bindings were tight and fastened well.

"Come," you grinned at Neteyam, tail coiling as a glint of thrill danced in your eyes. "Let's ride!"

With a whoop of exhilaration, you urged Ayvit forward, and with a powerful thrust of her wings, she propelled herself off the mountain peak. Neteyam laughed as he swiftly mounted Seze and joined you in flight. 

As you and Neteyam soared through the vast open skies, the wind tousled at your hair and caressed your cheeks, carrying the scents of the wild. The beating of Ayvit's powerful wings resonated in perfect rhythm with Seze's. 

Peals of laughter slipped from your lips, blending with the rush of air around you. Gazing at Neteyam, you couldn't help but be captivated by the joy etched on his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and a radiant, handsome smile adorned his features. 

Together, you explored the breathtaking landscapes from above, the lush forests, the winding rivers, and the towering mountains painted in hues of orange and pink by the setting sun. Ayvit and Seze seemed to revel in the thrill of the flight, each spread of their wings carrying you higher and further, as if they, too, were caught up in the strengthening of your bond.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the hues of warm sunset in the sky washed away, now bathed in the tranquil colors of twilight. With Ayvit and Seze now keeping a steady pace, you and Neteyam glided side by side, enjoying the serene, dreamlike ambiance of the atmosphere.

"We have to return soon," you called out to Neteyam. The warrior looked to you in confusion.

Guiding Ayvit to fly closer to his side, you reminded him, "I promised your brothers and sisters I would teach them how to make a healing salve. They must be waiting."

Neteyam merely hummed in response, his gaze lingering on you with a tender smile. 

"Let them wait," he spoke softly. "I want to spend more time with you."

His words stirred a delightful flutter in your chest, and you couldn't help but feel a smile creep onto your face. With a subtle click of your tongue, you urged Ayvit to turn slightly, now flying a bit farther from him.

Shifting your gaze, you couldn't help but steal secret glances at Neteyam's figure, utterly mesmerized as he skillfully guided Seze through the night sky. 

Eywa... Had he always been this handsome?

His thick, braided hair, the color of dark ink, cascaded down his broad shoulders, catching the moonlight as it whipped through the crisp air. His strong, sharp jaw and cheek exuded a rugged masculinity that contrasted beautifully with the gentleness in his eyes. Those eyes, the color of rich gold and flecked with hues of deep burgundy were windows to a soul that carried the weight of the world. 

Neteyam was both beautiful and mighty.

And he was to be yours.

Late at night, your healing hut exuded a soothing atmosphere, filled with the soft glow of torchlight and the gentle radiance of bioluminescent plants which cast a gentle, ethereal glow that bathed the room in cool colors.

Tuktirey, with her wide, curious eyes, wandered around the room in awe. She was captivated by the sight of the glowing medicinal flora adorning the walls, and her small hands reached out to explore the many trinkets that adorned your hut. With childlike wonder, she immersed herself in the enchanting environment, discovering new wonders at every turn.

Meanwhile, you and the older Sully kids gathered around a table. Guiding them step-by-step, you taught them the art of crafting a simple healing salve, constantly emphasizing its importance for treating mild injuries.

"This is called ngamut," you patiently explained, the unfamiliar dialect causing some confusion among them as they struggled to pronounce the word.

"Gamut?" Neteyam attempted, his accent thick, making an earnest effort to mimic the foreign syllables.

Shaking your head, you repeated it once more, enunciating it more clearly, "Ngamut."

"Agamut?" Neteyam toyed with you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

In response, you huffed and affectionately flicked the side of his head. 

"Ngamuutt," you emphasized, drawing out the word to help him get the pronunciation right.

"Ngamuutt," he repeated, his smile growing wider, knowing he finally got it correct. With a nod of approval, you resumed stirring the paste, your skilled hands expertly mixing the ingredients.

“You two are already acting like a mated couple,” Lo'ak teased, lazily holding his bowl of paste in one hand. The medicine in the bowl, if you could even call it that, was a sad mess of lazily torn leaves and clumsily poured syrup, hardly resembling a proper healing salve.

"Leave them be," Kiri rolled her eyes, taking the monstrosity of a paste away from Lo'ak and attempting to salvage it. "I think it's good that they are getting along well."

"We really do," Neteyam agrees, his expression soft as he peered at you. He holds your stare for a moment before turning to his siblings.

"But I have to tell you—she is a very harsh teacher. It's either her way or die," he grins.

You couldn't help but smirk at his remark. "I told you I wasn't going to baby you," you retorted, playfully flicking a bit of the messy paste towards him.

Neteyam laughed, the sound like music to your ears. "I know, I know," he replied, his grin never fading. "But I have to admit, your teaching methods are effective."

"I am aware," you replied with a smug look before swiftly snapping back into your stern demeanor. "But this flattery will get you nowhere. Come now, let me see your paste."

As you leaned over to inspect the paste Neteyam had made, he unexpectedly turned his face toward you. The sudden movement caused his lips to brush against yours, and you both froze. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Both your eyes met—milky blues locking with golden browns—as you both silently drank in each other's features.

Faintly, you could feel Neteyam's hand brushing gently against your sides, and a shiver ran up your spine from the touch of his calloused fingers against your skin. The connection between you felt electric, a tingling sensation spreading through your body.

The daze was broken as Kiri cleared her throat, interrupting the moment. Both of you snapped out of your trance, but the lingering tension between you and him remained palpable, shimmering just beneath the surface. A touch of bashfulness colored your expressions, cheeks flushed from the shared vulnerability of that brief, intimate encounter. 

Lo'ak's smug expression didn't help, fangs poking out from his lips in a teasing grin. You shot him a half-hearted glare, hoping to deter any further teasing, but it only seemed to fuel him.

"Well," he chimed, "looks like you two had quite the moment there."

"Lo'ak, your paste is going to end up poisoning someone," you snapped, trying to deflect the attention from the romantic moment. "Fix it."

Lo'ak's mouth dropped in shock, an offended expression washing over him as he began to protest. Ignoring his complaints, you quickly regained your composure and shifted your focus back to the lesson at hand.

"Neteyam, your paste is watery," you pointed out. "Add more leaves and stir it slowly to thicken it up."

The warrior nodded, still looking a little flustered as he busied himself with the medication, trying his best to focus and ignore the lingering warmth from the almost kiss. 

Throughout the lesson, glances were exchanged, small smiles were shared, and the air seemed thick with your unspoken feelings. Kiri and Lo'ak could clearly notice the change, sharing knowing looks between themselves. Despite this, they chose to respect the unspoken bond forming between you and Neteyam, allowing you both the space to navigate this new territory.

As the night wore on, you finally deemed them capable enough, and the lesson was complete. The Sullys began to gather their things, expressing gratitude for your teaching and slowly making their way out of the hut. Neteyam, however, stayed back for a moment, his intense stare lingering on you. 

Before he left, he took a step closer, and with a tender touch, ran a hand up your cheek, his rough fingers gentle against your skin. The touch of him against you sent a pulse of warmth through your body, and you leaned into the warrior's touch, savoring the tender moment. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, syulang," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of affection and anticipation.

"Tomorrow," you replied softly, caressing the back of his hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart pulsating through his veins.

As the Sully kids bid their final farewells and left your hut, you pressed your back against the woven door, trying to steady your racing heart. The soft glow of torchlight and bioluminescent plants bathed the room, mirroring the gentle pink glow that now enveloped your very being.

"I see him," you draw in a sharp breath, a hand clasping over your chest.

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

some romance is finally blooming ! it would be so bad if something happened to our couple, huh? also guys, i can't thank you enough for the comments! there are a lot of them from both my ao3 and tumblr so i get overwhelmed and don't know what to reply but just know that i appreciate it all so much! xoxoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsockmonkeys @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde @dark-mark @v4mp1rr3 @xylianasblog @piceous21 @celi-xxmoon @corpsebridenightamare @ducks118 @ok-boke @bluealiensimp @tyongluvs @theyoungeagle @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @nerdfacesposts @isnt-itstrange @smile-skxawng @eywas-heir @mochiivqi @wavesarchive @aurora-starwars @simpforramenboy@crazy4books1 @jamie-poopoo

If you can't see your blog, that means I could tag you! :(

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Werewolf!Price Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sfw, werewolf!price, mentions of gore and body horror, loose a/b/o dynamics, possessiveness, scent marking, fluff, werewolf lore sprinkled with pack 141 interactions

-A born lycan. The shift was as natural as breathing. And he quickly showed the temperment of an alpha.

-Shifts to the outsider can appear gruesome. As the wolf quite literally emerges from within, human flesh falling away like a gristly chrysalis to reveal the beast beneath. Traditionally, this shed flesh would be devoured, though it isn't commonly practiced today. The flesh disintegrates quite quickly once shed.

-This being said Price can shift in degrees, often enhancing his own claws or teeth for defensive purposes rather than shift completely. 

-No, the clothes do not magically pop back on once he's done. Shifting completely is inconvenient and typically a last resort. It's difficult to strip in the middle of a fire fight, let alone find his tac bag stark naked after it's all said and done.

-For born wolves, this shift is generally smooth and quick. For those bitten, it is this first shift that often leads to their death. Around 75% of those bitten do not have the bodily fortitude to withstand the change.

-as a born wolf, Price's enhanced senses are also perfectly integrated, and require no sensory aids for him to navigate his daily life unlike the majority of bitten wolves.

-born wolves have a tendency to remain in seclusion, within the safety and comfort of their pack. When a new alpha is born they typically either stay to take over leadership, or stake out a new territory to build their own pack.

-John was quickly ostracized when he showed little interest in either of those things. He seemed to be far more preoccupied with exploring both the world and his own strength. The military amongst the humans would do quite nicely.

-During his tours there would be fleeting encounters with other monsters, typically enemies. But a few comrades as well. Such as Nikolai, a bear shifter. The pair of lycans got along beautifully.

-Now, despite his former pack's opinions of him, John had never explicitly said he didn't want a pack, just not their version of a pack. No. John had a different idea in mind.

-Simon was the first. A strong and brutal human, who had shown an endearing gentleness in certain circumstances. Price had decided immediately that Simon would belong to him. He just needed some final paper work to build his pack task force. He had even settled on changing Simon himself, despite the risks. A bloody vampire had beaten him to it. Price was hardly angry that Simon's humanity was taken from him, just that Simon had to suffer in such a way to get there. At least Price had the pleasure of siring the newborn himself.

-Next had been Soap. A wiley thing with a blatant disregard for orders and big blue eyes that were far too pretty to be all human. Price couldn't decide if he should scruff or praise him for his cheek. But Soap had an excellent knack for mixing things that should absolutely not work, into something that would cave a warehouse in seconds. Along with a distinct aversion to touching certain metals with his bare hands. His peculiarities had earned him a nickname, and also given him away as a Fae. Price would have him too.

-Garrick followed not long after. Sharp and driven Gaz. Incredibly clever with a proud determination that blazed behind those warm brown eyes. Gaz's skills made his inner wolf purr in delight.  Another lovely thing for him to keep. Price was taken with him immediately, and had never felt more at ease than with the sergeant he had stolen in Piccadilly. 

-While he could tell from Kyle's scent that he was something Other. Price would only receive cryptic answers or riddles that only made the younger sergeant chuckle as Price failed to guess correctly. (Price would totally not make up excessively silly answers to see the sergeants pretty smile, oh no).

-It wouldn't be until they were stranded in an excessively hot desert that Gaz would reveal himself. Price had emerged from their tent to see Garrick, posted up like it was summer vacation, with a brilliant golden wing curled over his head to shade him from the sun. A long tufted tail flickering back and forth out of a small cut in his fatigues. Gaz had looked up from his book, golden slitted eyes peering over his aviators. Flashed him a toothy grin. “Wanna make another guess Cap?”

-Price has a vicious possessive streak, and he plays it incredibly carefully in the beginning of the task force. He watches his vocabulary when talking about the “team.” His pack. Perfect, strong and beautiful. All of them. Chosen carefully.  He was careful not to spook them at first, worried his possessive language would put them off.  But they are, for all intents and purposes, his.

-His possessiveness had manifested subtly at first. Scent marking them. Brushing shoulders or gentle touches as he passed them. He would even resort to smoking beside them if touching seemed out of the question. At least his smoke would soak into their clothes and hair.

-As they fell together it became less subtle. Price couldn't resist sinking his teeth into their flesh as they writhed beneath him. Suck bruises along whatever flesh he could get his mouth on. It was a pro and a con that his boys all healed so well. While his marks did not remain for long, it meant he could only mark them up sooner. 

-He loves that their scents all intermingle, really. But he can be stubbornly adamant that his scent is the most notable. Often catching Soap or Gaz to tug into his office, kissing the breath out of them, only to curtly send them back out, freshly scented and a bit dazed. It's a fair compromise considering Simon often hogs the sergeants to himself.

-Simon often seeks him out of his own volition. Coming to his office to sit quietly, work on his own reports and bask in Price's scent of spilled ink and warm honey. Or sneaking to his room in the night. Slipping off the mask to bury his nose against his throat. No biting. Just breathing. His scent a balm to the younger vampires frayed nerves. 

-Price takes an immense amount of pride in caring for his pack, and takes his job seriously in protecting and providing. Gets immensely distraught when one of his mates is hurting. Knowing no limits in showering them in comfort items and love. 

[anomaly-hivemind]

Tangled Up ☆ Naga x Reader | Kinktober Day 25

Summary:  You just wanted to camp out and explore the jungle, but apparently, something wanted to explore you as well.

Word Count: 2098

Tags: fem reader, double penetration, monster, naga,  cunnilingus, slight perversion, reader depravity, tongue fucking, face fucking, face sitting, sixty-nining, power bottom reader, bondage (in a way), creampie, vaginal and anal penetration

 I was going on a camping trip, it was going to be just me, myself, and the great outdoors all alone with nothing but trees and wildlife. My biggest dream is to find some once-in-a-lifetime thing. But for now, I just wanted to have a peaceful outing without city distractions. I had a book bag or two full of everything I could have possibly needed for half a week in the forest. 

I was hiking up the mountain, seething in personal regret that led me to be out there as if it wasn't by free will.  Maybe I should have worked out a couple of weeks in advance of this trip; maybe then I wouldn't have felt like death was wrapping its bony fingers around my legs.  Everything hurts, I would turn around if I wasn't already so far in; it would be too much work.  The better plan is to walk towards the nearest clearing and camp there for half a week. Thankfully, it wasn't that far off when I found a clearing.  It was a nice mossy ground with a bunch of trees surrounding it; I couldn't have gotten luckier. 

It takes about an hour to set up everything, and now I feel like I learned a little nap. 

…………………………………………………………………

I woke up to shuffling noises outside my tent… was it some kind of wild creature like a leopard? Or maybe it was another person? Regardless, you grabbed your machete, carefully unzipped your tent, and peered outside. Your eyes widened at what you saw. It was a naga, like straight out of fantasy novels or a movie. 

He was big, around fifteen feet from what you could see, with small, rounded black scales covering his tail and some scales scattered here and there blended nicely with his dark gray skin. There were some on his hands that reached up to his upper wrists, back, and shoulders that seemed like they might be useful for defense, but then there were others on his collarbone, cheeks, and under his eyes, that seemed… to enhance appearance. Perhaps it was a part of attracting a mate? Of course, you didn’t know for sure; after all, you weren’t a naga, and this was a whole new species! It was exactly what you were hoping for.

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at my Dutch oven over the put-out campfire curiously, which allowed me to see his scaled and pointed ears, which were previously hidden behind his medium-length honey-colored hair.

He shifts around the area of your campsite. Messing and looking at all the stuff that you left out. His jaw unhinged as he began lowering one of your overnight cameras into his mouth.

“Wait a minute, that's not food!” You said abandoning the safety of your tent and jumping out to stop him. His slitted pupils shifted over to you. Suddenly you were feeling a lot more nervous than before, You clutched your machete tighter, ready for anything to happen. Snakes only attack when feeling threatened or when hunting, based on the fact that he was about to eat your camera you guessed that he was a bit hungry, hopefully not for you. 

“A human?” He said slithering towards you. He circled around you, inspecting you curiously and you turned with him. Rule number one of dealing with creatures in the wild is to never turn or back to them. However you didn’t notice that he now had you trapped in the circle of his tail. 

“You’ve encountered humans before?” You asked for a hint of excitement in your voice and maybe a bit of fear.

“One. tried to kill me. I kill him. Then eat, not good.” He spoke, and his words caused A bit of shock in you, but you guessed it was in his nature. 

You can only hope that his disinterested taste in humans would mean that you were safe on being a meal for the large snake beast.  His bright eyes stare into what feels like your soul as he closes the circle, and his tail surrounds him. At the same speed, it takes you to blink, you are stuck in the grip of a large constrictor. You let out a groan as you try to pull away. 

“Please don’t kill me!” you whined as you looked up at the naga in hopes that you could see into what he was thinking.

“I will not kill you,”

“So, can you let go of me?” 

“No,”

“So you're not going to eat me, you’re not going to kill me… are you just curious?”

“Cu..ri..ous?”

“It means you want to know or learn about something.”

“Yes. I am curious,”

“Oh, that works out fine. I’m curious about you, too, so let's learn about each other.”

Over the next two days, you learned all about Naga and, like to say, you taught him about humans, You also learned his name, which was Ornanger. What you had been really dying to know, though, was what that naga-peen looked like. You had drawn diagrams of all his body except for his dick. And you had to know what it looked like, in the name of science of course. Oh, who were you kidding, Ornanger was too sexy for you not to hit that.

“Hey, Ornanger, I'm just gonna get right to the point I’d like to see your penis.”

“Penis?” He gives you a head tilt.

“Your reproductive organ?” 

He looks down at his slit as he moves to get the so-called penis you desire to see. You watch him as he pushes his fingers into himself; he lets out a sigh. He moves slowly and gently as it is assumingly an It was certainly a sight to see, but when not one but two cocks pushed out of the slit.

The tips were a healthy shade of purple, like a grape or a plum. They had a sweet shine to them, but the purple faded out to his regular gray skin tone. The tips were slightly pointed and a bit slanted, while the shafts themselves were long and kind of slender.

You bite your lip at the sight of the two monster rods.  You want it, want to get closer to it, and potentially even get a taste of it if you can.

“Can I feel it?”

They give a few strokes; you use both your hands to give them some needed attention in your hands; their smooth texture feels new to your senses. The precum spread over his shafts so easily. Oranajer let out a hiss as your hands slid down his cocks.

“What about you? Show me yours. Is it so different?” You were surprised by his request but you weren’t gonna argue and quickly discarded your pants and underwear. 

Ornanger looked at your front in confusion before looking and sliding between your legs for what you supposed was a better view.  He pulls you closer, giving your cunt a few sniffs, aka flicking his tongue. Testing out the new territory causes you to shiver a bit as you feel the air moving about you in such an area. 

He moved closer to it until his tongue flicked up your folds. You let out a sigh at the feeling and wiggle back into his face. Pressing yourself against him,  which he doesn't seem to mind. 

He whimpers softly into your dripping folds, not quite sure what to do next. He tries to move his tongue around experimentally, tasting you for the first time. It tastes sweet and salty, so different from anything else he's ever tried before.

He switches from being face deep in your pussy to licking up your juices. To push his tongue deep into your entrance and thrust his tongue into you, causing hushed moans to escape your lips.

  He moans back into your wet slit, savoring the sound and sensation of your pleasure. He laps up your juices greedily, letting his tongue swirl around your clit. His free hand reaches between your legs, spreading them open even wider and giving him better access to your dripping sex. 

Your eyes were on the cocks, which were twitching your immediate attention. You lean down to grab them, feeling like you should pay him back with how good his mouth feels. You put one in your mouth and stroke the other. Your fingers squeezed and twisted one cock, traveling up and down the length, spreading precum all over as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked on the other.

His precum didn’t exactly taste how you expected it to, but that wasn't exactly a bad thing. It was much more viscous in texture and had sort of a savory flavor.

You switched between the two cocks, swashing them in your mouth the best you could.  He started rocking into her face as he was eating you out. You caress his scales; that's your switch between his thrusting cocks. You feel like if you let him continue this interaction, you're gonna cum, and not have any energy to continue, and you want more. 

“Wait, wait, wait.”  You tap his scales, and he pulls away so that he can listen to what you are going to say. 

“I want to feel these inside of me.” 

Ornanger lets go of your legs, and you move to bend down.  Once you are in the right position, he grips your hips with one hand and starts to push his cock into you.  You let out a wince as you feel one going into your ass while the other is in your pussy. You do your best not to tense up so he can move more easily.

He watches you fidget and writhe against him as his thick cocks pressed against your tight holes. Ornanger wrapped his strong arms around your waist, holding you close to his muscular body. He began thrusting rhythmically, the tip of his tail coiling possessively around your legs to prevent any escape. With each thrust, your bodies collided, creating wet slapping sounds that echoed through the jungle.

He basically purrs contentedly as he feels himself sinking deeper into you, his slick cocks pushing past your entrances until they are buried deep inside you. He could feel your body tremble a little beneath him as he did so, and he couldn't help but enjoy the sight. It seemed like you were enjoying this as much as he was. He felt like he was filling you up so intently from being in both holes, feeling like they were pressed right against each other in different canals.

Ornanger slowly rocked into you; the slickness of his cocks sliding into you was such a strange feeling. They were touching you so deeply. Snaking in and out. You couldn’t help but whimper at the dual stimulation. There wasn’t a single place he wasn’t touching inside you. The stretch was magnificent. With every thrust, Ornanjer was pressing against your sweet spots, and then as he dragged his cocks out, they left you with such a feeling of euphoria just for the actions to repeat over and over again.

Your stomach was winding itself up in a tight coil. You wrapped your legs around Ornanjer’s waist, pulling him closer to your body. Compared to your hot ass body, his body had a nice low warmth to it. You could feel the sweat rolling down your body. Luckily, this wasn’t the first time ornanger had seen you sweat, so it didn’t interrupt your sexy time.

He pulls back, and you're pulling forward at the last second, causing him to shoot his monster load onto your backside and over your folds. He lets out a hiss, and you shiver a bit in the aftermath. 

“Must cum inside, mate,” He muttered, and you looked back to see he was still hard. Your eyes widened as you realized you triggered Ornanger’s need for procreation, with you being his target.  Guess the only way out of this is to satisfy him. You could feel yourself getting close. Your legs were tensing up, and your back was arching off the ground. 

“A-ah~ I’m gonna cum,” you cried out

Ornanjer groaned as he came inside you. Ropes of cum spurting into you. You moaned, feeling your holes were filled to the brim with that sweet, sticky fluid. At the same time, you also reached climax; your walls spasmed around Ornanjer, milking every last drop out of him.

“So, I don’t think I took in all the knowledge that I needed. Do you mind if we go again?”

[ms-demeanor]

Not to be rude or derailing your answer to the ask about the scorched earth post, but I do think quite genuinely that the site is becoming more openly hostile to its userbase, or at the very least its disabled userbase. While I’m not a fan of mobbing people’s personal blogs in targeted harassment campaigns, I think some people are also ignoring that staff blatantly said in a recent post that epileptic users would need to pay for ad-free to have their safety assured

I kind of don’t think that’s being ethical or user friendly, to me that sounds like they’re refusing to meet basic accessibility requests and answering with ‘pay us money to be safe’. Strobing and flashing ads aren’t just eyestraining, they can legitimately lead to serious injuries for epileptic folk, and telling people with epilepsy to just pay up or get lost is kinda… I dunno… disgusting?

So it looks like in a livestream (not on a post so far as I've been able to see) either photomatt or zingring made a glib and inappropriate response to an epileptic user asking about flashing ads and suggested that maybe they needed to pay for ad-free.

That's bad, I don't like it, and if it was supposed to be a joke it was a shitty one.

Zingring, tumblr's COO addressed that comment in a post where she said:

Buying ad-free (or gifting ad-free to someone else) is always an option, but that is not the solution (and of course, some folks simply can’t afford it). Sorry that it sounded dismissive in the session! That was not my intent.

I still think that's inappropriate (it's not that ad free isn't *the* solution, ad free shouldn't be *a* solution to accessibility), but it looks like Zingring has addressed this issue multiple times.

She got tagged in this post listing ways that tumblr could improve accessibility for photosensitive users and seems to have pretty consistently followed up; she has explained that there are rules against flashing ads that are sometimes violated by the advertisers and asks people to please report ads that break those rules so those advertisers can be blocked, has noted that there is apparently a "stop all autoplay" option in the works behind the scenes. She does also seem to take it seriously when users reach out with complaints about accessibility issues and seems to be willing to explore options.

Looking through that blog, this does not seem to be a site that is hostile to users with accessibility issues so much as, like everything else that's wrong around here, it is ridiculously understaffed so every project that someone wants to have as a priority is a project that someone else needs put on the backburner.

However, to very gently push back: how much of what you're experiencing as hostility from tumblr is actual hostility and how much of it is seeing posts like this, which suggests that tumblr is removing accessibility features because the lightbox didn't have double-tap-to-zoom on mobile for some users for a short while, claims that the blocking/flagging issue is a false flag against trans women, shared the inaccurate fearmongering post about tumblr live's ToS, and also claimed that tumblr "allowed" flashing ads that violated the in-place rules that tumblr has for advertising?

(this kind of goes with the 'nobody understands the ToS' but also nobody understands ads; tumblr does not have enough staff to look over the ads that go on their site every day, no social media company does, they rely on advertiser agreements as a sort of enhanced honor system and reports from users if the advertisers don't hold up their end of the bargain; the only way around this for any site that uses ads is to not have ads and that post is explicitly saying don't pay for tumblr because they are doing ads wrong - either they have to run ads and some bad ones are going to slip through and users will have to report them or tumblr will have to be 100% paid by the users or tumblr will go away. If you see ads that are unsafe for photosensitive users on *any* website you should report them to the site because the site almost certainly doesn't know that there's an advertiser violating the ad ToS unless someone tells them)

Generally speaking, I am actually *not* seeing worsening accessibility features, I'm seeing improvements compared to where we were five years ago - alt text on images is now built-in and devs are working hard on making tumblr more compatible with screen readers (as noted in the changes blog regularly); tumblr itself started offering different dashboard themes for users after years of complaints about contrast levels and readability; the "tiktok/twitterified" desktop dash view that everyone hates is supposed to be more readable on wider screens.

Compare this post in October of 2022 when Changes celebrated adding animations for posting (and told users those could only be disabled at an OS or browser level) with this post from July 2023 when they rolled back a feature because of an unexpected use case that could cause problems for photosensitive users.

These aren't things that I'd expect to see from a company that didn't care about accessibility, or that was openly hostile to questions around making the site more accessible.

I don't disagree with you that the comment from the stream about buying ad free was inappropriate; it absolutely was and it must have made photosensitive users feel like shit. But in the three months since that comment tumblr has been very responsive about getting flashing ads removed as soon as possible and seems to be working on more permanent fixes. I think this may be an instance of able-bodied people not realizing how shitty and dehumanizing their joke was (and it was) and taking the steps to do better.

If you don't think they're doing better, I probably can't convince you. I certainly don't think that tumblr is perfect about accessibility and I think that users need to continue pushing for improved user control of how the site displays and interacts with various devices. But compared to the kind of responses users complaints got from staff in 2018? I feel like things have improved a lot.

[lexsssu]

Sun (David Martinez)

TAGS: David/F!reader, drabble, fluff, reader-insert Ao3 ver.

“...don’t wanna get up…”

“You have to, baby. Can’t keep Uncle V and Tio Jackie waiting for you to show up”

David groaned and proceeded to rub his face further into your warm bosom, seemingly willing himself to return to the sweet embrace of dreamland. You shook your head, the corners of your lips twitching upwards as you stared down at the sleepy brunette. Remembering that this is the same boy you watched turn into a man and yet somehow still have that same boyish charm you’d fallen for growing up will bring a smile to your lips.

Considering everything he’d gone through, you’re all the more thankful that David didn’t let this harsh world snuff out the fire within him. And that it’s you he chose to share his warmth with, despite being nothing but an ordinary teen, especially compared to him.

“While I could just let you sleep in and tell them to let you take the day off, I know you’ll feel worse knowing you could’ve been there to help them with this gig but didn’t,” Running your hands through his hair, you pressed kisses to the top of his head and giggled as you hear his muffled complaints from within the safety of your chest. 

“Why do you always have to be right?”

Now that you were finally blessed with the sight of those eyes that never failed to remind you of warm, melted chocolate, the smile you sported could only widen further. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips as you greeted him a good morning, only to be pulled back the moment you tried to back away.

While you weren’t fond of putting enhancements on yourself aside from the bare minimum to function in this world, you wouldn’t have put any effort into escaping David’s grasp even if you did have any physical enhancers. 

It took a few missed calls before either of you noticed your phones ringing nonstop as your respective uncles tried checking up on both of you.

[vaguesxrrow]

Hey, I already sent one request, so here's a second (your choice which you write first!)

Can I request a Dean Winchester x werewolf! Reader who can actually control when they turn? Like they could choose to turn to benefit a case whenever they want

The only downside of a full moon is that they turn like other werewolves, but atp reader is more annoyed than anything cuz they keep accidently ruining shirt with the claws or be unable to eat a regular midnight snack bc of the teeth

HII <33 i started with this one, because you definitely got me hooked on writing for dean and now im going through a phase LMAO

dean winchester / werewolf!reader

a/n: do i rmb what werewolves from spn are like? no. did that stop me? also no. (resilience, guys!!)

cws: swearing, mild violence, injury, and blood

wc: 982

tags: gender neutral reader, humour, a splash of sabriel, reader during their full moon shift is me on my period minus the pain and crying

"y'know, babe, this would be a really great time for you to wolf out," dean muttered, turning off the safety on his gun. both of you were hiding behind a stack of barrels, trying to avoid getting your asses handed to you again. your lower back was still sore from when you had been caught by surprise by a demon, and had been flung across the room like a rag doll.

you rolled your eyes at dean's suggestion, even as your pupils changed colour to a dark amber.

dean grinned at the sight, clapping you on the shoulder in glee. "hell yeah."

you bared your fangs at him.

"woah, my bad," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "save the rage for the demons we got coming."

"then let's go," you growled, fingers elongating into claws.

dean looked at you in awe as you stepped out, the slashing of flesh sounding immediately. "can't believe i'm dating them," he whispered. usually, it would be too quiet for you to hear, but now with your enhanced hearing, it was as if he was saying it right next to your ear. you smiled fondly as the first demon advanced.

dean joined you in taking down the remaining attackers, shooting the ones you couldn't take. soon enough, black smoke filled the air and the host bodies went limp, falling to the floor as the demons deserted them.

you shifted back, sharp claws and teeth retracting with minor pain. turning back and forth was easier now - you supposed it helped a great deal that you could actually control it, unlike the other werewolves you knew. practise made perfect, and you’d had many opportunities to practise, namely when saving dean (and sam) from getting killed. of course, you still shifted against your will every full moon, although even then you still had an impressive hold on your wolf.

"you good?" dean asked you, holding out a hand. you allowed him to tuck you underneath his arm as you made the walk back to the impala. you didn't miss the way his critical gaze scanned your body, looking for any injuries.

"back is killing me, but i'm fine,” you responded. “you?"

"busted lip that hurts like a motherfucker, but nothing worse."

"mm." you smiled. "does it hurt too much to give me a kiss?"

"never." he leaned in to give you a chaste peck, chuckling when he pulled away. "uh, you got a little blood-"

you licked it away, toothy grin emerging at dean's expression. "werewolf. i don't mind a little blood." you winked.

he shrugged in acceptance. "okay. hot."

you shoved him away, both of you laughing.

⌦ ----

as the sun set and the moon peeked over the horizon, you groaned, falling dramatically against the sofa cushions. sam and dean were already sat on the couch, fight club on the tv paused at the first frame, and they shot you sympathetic yet amused looks.

"i hate full moons," you complained, reaching for a piece of popcorn. "in a few hours, i won't even be able to eat this."

sam huffed. "honestly, i'm just glad that's the biggest of our problems whenever you shift. at least you don't go psycho on us."

you looked at him reproachfully, flashing your puppy dog eyes. "but popcorn."

he threw a piece at you.

"i'll feed you when you come looking for a midnight snack," dean supplied helpfully. you looked at him lovingly and 'aww'ed, blowing a kiss. he mimed catching it and pressed it to his lips, winking playfully.

sam fake gagged, standing up. "okay, this couple stuff is getting to me. call me when you actually start the movie!"

"as if you aren't as bad with gabriel!" dean yelled after him. you cackled as sam flipped the two of you off.

⌦ ---

you stumbled down the stairs, wincing as your claws scraped against the wood of the railing, undoubtedly leaving marks. your shirt was torn - a recurring accident that happened every full moon. you cursed aloud upon realising you had worn your most comfortable sleep shirt to bed.

once you reached your desired destination - your beloved kitchen - you stared reproachfully at the fridge, which was notably harder to open with your elongated nails.

"don't punch our fridge," a voice said sleepily.

you nearly jumped dean, arms raised, before realising it was him. "jesus effing christ," you hissed. "don't sneak up on me during full moons like that!"

dean merely yawned in response, opening the fridge door for you. he grabbed out various items, listing them as he went. "what're we feeling tonight? snickers, gummies.. aw, c'mon, sammy put pretzels in the fridge again?"

you snatched the pack of gummy bears from his hand, a single claw going right through the packet so it hung lamely from your finger. you sighed, sounding long-suffering and completely done. dean snorted, taking the bag back from you and ripping it properly.

"open," he instructed, throwing a gummy into your mouth. "loving the edgy, emo look, by the way." he gestured to your torn shirt.

"shut up, dean, you know this happens every time," you grumbled, chewing your snack more aggressively. suddenly, a fang pierced your lip, a small jolt of pain going through your body. "ow, shit." you brought your hand to your mouth.

"what happened?" dean asked in concern.

you showed him the blood on your fingers incredulously. "i split my lip with my fangs! are you kidding me right now?"

he visibly relaxed, relieved it wasn't serious. "more for me, i guess." he shrugged, obnoxiously chewing a piece. "mm, this is so good."

scowling, you dabbed the cut with your T-shirt, which was already ruined, so it didn’t matter. a smirk appeared on your face as you swatted dean, attempting to steal the bag from him. "dean, when i catch you-"

he dodged, fleeing to the living room. "nope!"

"oh, fucking hell-"

[cyberwhumper]

METROPOLITAN DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY AND CORRECTIONS

CENTRAL BOOKING OFFICE

Booking Officer: Captain J. Welles

Returned: 4 results Status: Pending

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

IGNALINA, NORA

DOB: 02/04/XXXX SEX: F SPEC: H. sapiens

HEIGHT: 162cm WEIGHT: 57kg

HAIR: red EYES: blue [note: enhanced]

PREVIOUS ARRESTS:

08/27/XX02: unlawful assembly OUTCOME: Dismissed

09/05/XX02: unlawful assembly OUTCOME: Dismissed

02/12/XX05: larceny, solicitation, felony possession of narcotics OUTCOME: Convicted

INMATE RECORD:

Facility: Los Diablos Women’s Correctional Inmate ID: 81736

Sentenced: 2 years Time Served: 1 year 10 months Reason For Early Release: Unlikely to Reoffend

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

ANTONOV, DOMINIK

DOB: 05/13/XXXX SEX: M SPEC: H. sapiens

HEIGHT: 195cm WEIGHT: 140kg

HAIR: black EYES: blue

PREVIOUS ARRESTS:

[ERROR: not found. req&: expunged]

INMATE RECORD:

[ERROR: not found. req&: expunged]

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

MONTEZ, VICTORY

DOB: 08/14/XXXX SEX: M SPEC: H. sapiens teratogens

HEIGHT: 198cm WEIGHT: 110kg

HAIR: brown EYES: brown [note: enhanced]

PREVIOUS ARRESTS:

12/01/XX11: accessory to grand theft auto, reckless driving OUTCOME: Dismissed

05/15/XX12: felony possession of narcotics with intent to distribute OUTCOME: Convicted

04/11/XX13: accessory to grand theft auto, possession of contraband OUTCOME: Dismissed

08/29/XX13: DUI, reckless driving OUTCOME: Dismissed

10/03/XX13: DUI, reckless driving OUTCOME: Dismissed

07/21/XX14: felony theft, possession of contraband OUTCOME: Dismissed

INMATE RECORD:

Facility: New Hialeah County Juvenile Inmate ID: [sealed]

Sentenced: 6 months Time Served: 10 months + probation [sealed]

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

!NOTE! Inter-Office Special Instructions: FUCKING K-CLASS MUTT Handle With Extreme Caution

ENGELHART, REX

DOB: 12/30/XXXX SEX: M SPEC: H. teratogens

HEIGHT: 228cm WEIGHT: 180kg

HAIR: black EYES: yellow

PREVIOUS ARRESTS:

[ERROR: not found. req&: expunged]

INMATE RECORD:

[none]

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

[OC INDEX]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen // @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat // @burnticedlatte // @violent-ultraviolet // @limitlesstrash17 // @inspiral-rl // @coyotehusk // @mis-graves // @caffeinatedscorpio // @defire // @badluck990 // @unforgivenn //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be An Even Wider Knowledge Gap Than I Anticipated

...And actually find it really exciting that I have a reason to expand and address some comments and questions from my first post!

This is a sequel/addition to my original post, "Horses: Since There Seems To be A Knowledge Gap". I want to address more horse-related knowledge gaps, common misinformation and mistakes made by well-meaning and very skilled creators that wouldn't know otherwise unless they worked with horses directly. You should not have to work hands-on with horses to learn some of this stuff, but the fact remains that horse facts and riding knowledge is often underdiscussed and usually only shared by other people that work with/around horses. A lot of this information should be within easier reach for writers and artists, too!

Before I begin, I'd like to thank all of you that politely reached out in the comments, tags, and my DMs/asks with your thoughtful additions to details I forgot/left out/hadn't even considered, and your brave questions posed to me personally that I was more than happy to answer. I'm truly thankful to all of you who contributed with a positive energy, or that had the courage to reach out to me - the OP - with questions my first post didn't manage to help you with. I will never punish, shame, or otherwise mistreat anyone who comes to me with an earnest question or correction in good faith, anonymous or not. If you're polite to me, I will be polite to you. I will try my hardest to answer questions I may not have much experience with, but I will still do my best to research the answers so you don't have to, and tag/cite/refer you to people, books, or other knowledge sources that have more answers and experience than I do if I can't.

So, what more is there to know about writing and portraying horses? I'll just get started off the top of my head with some of the most frequent additions other tumblr horse folk have been hollerin' at me about, and with good reason, because you guys were right to point out what you did and really got me thinking!

-Spurs: My Second Take. In my original post, I voiced my personal distaste for the use of spurs in riding. Spurs, for those who don't know, were traditionally made as sharp metal pinwheels that attached to the back of riding boots for enhanced communication between the rider and the horse, much like how riding crops are used. I, personally, have had a lot of bad experiences seeing riders misuse spurs to hurt horses that I cared for as a stable hand and genuinely loved, and so I've been very shut down about the topic of spurs for many years.

Several people spoke up in defense of spurs as riding and communication tools, and I honestly believe that you guys were very on-point and made some great arguments: Spurs are only as harmful to horses as the intent the rider has in applying them, and I didn't have enough updated information about the different types of spurs that can be used nowadays that are not designed to be sharp or uncomfortable for the horse! I always grew up around traditional Cowboy-style spurs, which are sharp, stabby, star-shaped wheels, and can wound a horse and draw blood if used too aggressively. Tragically, most inexperienced and newer riders will use spurs too forcefully and wind up hurting the horse, and it's largely because new riders are inherently scared of riding, and over-rely on tools like spurs and crops rather than trust the horse to know what it's doing and be intelligent enough to know how to care for a human rider's safety.

Now, I've since learned that there are spurs with rubber wheels, blunted tips like those on the ends of safety-fencing foils, round metal bumpers instead of spurs at all, and even spurs that sport rotating metal balls that just feel (to the horse) like someone rolling a large ball-point pen over their sides, and more! So, to those of you that spoke up in tags and comments, thank you for doing so in a way that got me to open my own mind and check myself and my bad memories. You guys taught me something really cool and valuable that genuinely changed my perspective and opinions, and that's a really good thing!

-A Group Of Zombies/Unarmed Humans Can Take Down A Healthy Adult Horse. This is specifically aimed at The Walking Dead, but... yeah, you know the second episode when Rick rides a horse into the zombie-overrun Atlanta and the only way he's able to survive is when the zombies are distracted taking down and eating his obviously-jello-and-rubber horse?

Yeah, no. That is not how it would happen. At all. I think any biologists in the audience would back me up on that.

See, horses are prey animals, and they are herbivores. We're often used to thinking of herbivorous prey animals as shy, retiring, vulnerable animals that will simply keel over and die of fright when cornered by a predator. In reality, the opposite is often the case! Predatory animals tend to be much more shy, and much more cautious with their physical safety and wellbeing than prey animals tend to be, and that's usually because predators need to be able to remain uninjured and able-bodied enough to hunt again later, or else they and their babies may starve to death. Prey animals, especially herbivores, have evolved to deal with being hunted, and inherently don't need to be quite as healthy and able-bodied as a predator in order to avoid starving in the wild. Grass and leaves don't run away or try to fight back (unless it's like, poison oak or something), so an herbivore can generally recover from more environmental beatings than a predator typically can.

When cornered, horses very often only understand one thing: Murder. That's why you need horse whisperers and stable hands that know how to "gentle" a panicked horse as essential personnel at boarding and teaching ranches. While a horse can absolutely love and adore even the smallest of children and never harm them (at least intentionally - accidents happen), they can and absolutely will kill in order to defend themselves if running isn't an option. Horses can kick with up to 2,000lbs/907kg of force with their back legs. That's enough to break bones, shatter skulls, insta-kill grown men, and if you're kicked in the chest? Cause spontaneous cardiac arrest. Horses kick so hard and so fast they can literally make your heart stop from the speed and force of the impact alone: not from tissue damage. Horses will also paw and stomp with their front hooves until the Threatening Thing is effectively a mincemeat pancake, bite hard enough to take off fingers and hands, and can even cat-jump into the air off all four hooves in order to kick outward with all four legs at once. Spanish cavalry officers traditionally trained their horses to cat-jump on command in order to prevent them and their horse from being surrounded by footsoldiers in battle.

Horses will also use their body weight to roll, crush, scrape, and flatten anything or anyone that they don't want holding onto them. They will use environmental objects like trees, fences, or the corners of buildings to scrape unwanted hangers-on off into bloody smears (my mom's horse actually did this to a guy twice and he wound up in the ER with severe lacerations, bruises, splinters, and worse). Basically: a horse will use its entire body and the weight that comes with it as well as the entire world around it to fucking OBLITERATE anything they see as an unavoidable threat to their safety.

Without heavy-duty ropes, weapons, or tools, a group of adult, living, human men the size of football (the fake kind) linebackers wouldn't be able to successfully wrestle a fully-grown, panicked horse to the ground, much less a bunch of undead, mostly-decomposing zombies that only know how to bite and scratch. The horse Rick is riding on looks like it's probably a Quarterhorse, too. Quarterhorses are very sturdy, moderately-sized breeds that are also the iconic Cowboy Horse. They're tough, they're brave, they're hearty, and if they snap, they can and will kill both other animals and humans.

A horse's skin is so thick and tough that it's virtually impossible for a human to successfully bite or scratch hard enough to puncture through their outer dermal layers. As stable hands, a regular tool we use for getting mud out of a horse's hair is a literal metal wire brush that can rip open our skin if we try to use them, but the horses lean into them without even a hint of damage to their skin from doing so. There may be some tiny welts and a little bit of blood if a human tries to claw and bite at a horse, but horses do far worse to each other when they're just playing! Our fingernails and jaw muscles just aren't strong enough to do much damage to a healthy horse's skin.

-Horses aren't domestic animals.

...Yes they are. But just like other domestic animals, there can be wild populations of them that have had little or no human contact or intervention. Genetically speaking, however, horses are indeed domesticated. They're large domestic animals , but they are very much domesticated. Humans have been working alongside horses for at least 6,000 years. Domestic cats have only been domesticated for about 10,000 years. Truly wild horses in herds today, sadly, are pretty much 100% descended from domesticated horses. The recently-reintroduced-to-the-wild Przewalski's Horse is probably the closest genetic link to the original wild horses native to what are now modern Mongolia and Kazakhstan. Even the revered American Mustang is the product of domestication and planned breeding practices by both white colonists and Indigenous Americans over thousands of years, but Indigenous Americans were capable of maintaining a healthy balance between their personal horses and the essential need for herds of wild horses for the environment, too. White colonists did not understand this and intentionally stripped the North American frontier of its herds of wild horses, and are the primary reason the Mustang is only recently reappearing in wild herds in North America.

Sheep are domestic animals. Cows are domestic animals. Goats are domestic animals. Just because an animal has hooves and doesn't usually live in your house with you does not mean it isn't domesticated: You've just never had to live in an environment where they're essential to daily life or considered welcome companions, so they seem more like wild animals than cats and dogs. Hundreds of years ago, before modern building techniques created houses that could stay sustainably warm year-round, it was very normal for families to bring in cattle as large as horses and cows into their homes and sleep in the same rooms together for security and warmth, dookie and all (horse and cow poop doesn't smell as rank as dog or cat poo; they're herbivores, so it just doesn't smell as foul, and happens to make very good fuel for the fire). We don't do that anymore for health and safety reasons, and so horses, among other farmyard and "rural" domestic animals have become increasingly alienated from most people's psyches as being animals just as capable of being pets as your dog or cat.

-You can calculate how long a horse can run or work every day. This one is largely in response to some well-meaning questions I got from anons that seemed to want me to give them precise hourly work rates and mileage horses can tolerate. I was frustrated by questions like this, because it's a really cool subject to discuss, but not an easy question to answer. Horses are not machines, and "horsepower" is a unit of measurement derived from horses - not applied to them. "Horsepower" is a term used in machinery like tractors and cars. The total horsepower of your average horse is... well, 1, because that's how many horses a single horse can be without getting into some Welcome To Night Vale shit, which I'd love to do, but is a bit too far off topic for this particular post.

A horse's capacity to work or travel is heavily determined by outside factors, as well as organic factors in regards to the individual horse. How old is the horse? How heavy is it? How heavy is the rider? Is it also carrying cargo, like armor and camping supplies? Is it working on a farm and pulling a plow? If so, what quality is the soil? Has it been plowed before? Does the farmer own more than one horse? Is it hot outside? Is the horse going up and downhill? Is it fly season? Is the ground rocky? Are there burrowing animals in the area? Is there clay in the soil? Did it rain recently? How well-kept are the roads? Are there roads to use? What time of year is it- Aaaaaaah!

Ultimately, the answer is: A horse can work as long as it's willing to, and as long as its owner/handler judges is safe for the horse. A horse may be able to pull an old-fashioned plow through well-tilled soil for most of a cool morning before needing a break to cool down, eat, and rehydrate. It takes the judgment of the person commanding the horse when to call for a break or a full-stop to working for that horse by observing how tired it is (is it panting? Sweating? Slowing down? Are there any signs of strain in the hooves or legs?) or if it's in any way injured or in pain. The same applies with traveling long distances: It's up to the rider's judgment and how forgiving the environment is on the horse's body. In some cases, a riding horse may not be able to be ridden safely if the road is too treacherous or uneven for the horse to handle balancing its own weight and the rider's. In those cases, it's better for the rider to get off the horse and gently lead them through the bad terrain until it smooths out.

Also... horses can just... choose to quit. Some are quite sassy or very clear about their boundaries, and if they don't feel motivated or get too bored, they won't cooperate at all. The only way to deal with this is by letting them go do their own thing in the paddock until they decide they wanna cooperate again. Abusive people my try to whip or spur a horse into working past its limits, but humane people just let the guys take a break.

-Two adult people can ride on the same horse for a long time. GOD NO. PLEASE GOD NO. DO NOT DO THIS. PLEASE DO NOT EVER, EVER DO THIS.

Horses can only safely carry a maximum of about 30% of their total body weight on their backs without risking severe spinal damage, if not a broken spine altogether. A Thoroughbred - the iconic racing horse - typically maxes out at about 1,000lbs total in weight as an adult. Thoroughbreds are fairly tall compared to other fast, hot-blooded horses, like Arabians. That means that, at best, a perfectly healthy, not-too-old, not-too-young Thoroughbred horse would not be able to carry a total weight of more than about 450lbs, including the weight of its saddle and other tack, supplies carried by the rider, armor or other gear worn by the rider, and the impacts of gravity and the shocks of the rider's weight on the horse's back when it's moving at any speed. In the vast majority of cases, two adults cannot safely ride on the same horse for more than a very short distance before the horse enters the danger-zone for suffering severe and permanent spinal damage that can result in euthanasia. An adult carrying a baby or toddler is different, but two adults? Please don't. Please. Even if you're getting married and the owner of the super-huge pretty draft horse you're renting to take a gallant shared ride with your spouse with for pictures that reassures you it's fine, do not do it. Please just rent a carriage or pay extra for two horses. Please.

-A paddock with grass is all a horse needs to meet its nutritional needs. If that were true, horses would still be kept as pets more commonly around the world than they actually are. Unfortunately, to really thrive in the wild, horses need hundreds, if not thousands, of hectares of territory they can freely travel around in, while most paddocks are rarely larger than 10-20 acres when you're not talking about generational wealth or land. One of the reasons domestically-raised horses are almost entirely dependent on humans for food is due to the restricted spaces they're kept in. Grass only produces nutrition when the soil itself is fertile, and we humans don't necessarily have the natural ability to sense when soil is too nutrient-deprived for the plant life growing from it to be enough to provide just one horse with the vitamins and minerals they need on a daily basis to be healthy.

Another fact largely lost to history is that, back when most families had to farm to survive, farmers would store green leaves from various healthy and tasty trees and bushes in the boughs of other trees within their cattle paddocks and fields. By doing this, it kept large amounts of pests like rats from infesting the leaves, and keeping the cut branches and leaves stored within other leafy trees actually kept the greens fresher much longer than if they were stored on the ground or in a storage room. Horses would then graze from the leaves in the trees above their heads as well as the grass.

Stable hands and private owners keep rigorous dietary routines tailored to the needs of each individual horse. We're usually up and feeding the horses by dawn at the latest. The horses are usually given a few scoops of oats (not too much, because oats bloat up when they absorb liquid, and too much of that can give a horse colic), carrots and other vegetables for extra vitamins, salt licks (which are infused with extra minerals like a giant multivitamin), and even vitamin tablets/powder that goes straight into their dinner hay or alfalfa. Vets are essential for evaluating a horse's specific nutritional needs, so horses can actually get "prescriptions" for specific ingredients in their regular meals given to us from licensed large animal veterinarians, and not just a wealthy owner's best guess.

-Horses can throw up. Nope! It's not even physically possible for a horse to spit up food! That's part of why stable hands and owners have to be so careful in maintaining a regular, stable, healthy diet for their horses and keep their pastures and paddocks checked for toxic substances like poisonous plants that a horse may not know is toxic, or notice in the grass it's munching on.

Because they have such long necks and tall legs, horses need special muscles in their upper GI tracts in order to graze and drink water without constantly choking and fighting gravity. By having an esophagus that's one-way-only, as well as a muscle that clamps their stomachs shut at the top called a French Tie, horses hold down anything they swallow, even if it's enough to kill them.

-Horses are the best farm animals for a pre-industrial setting. Goodness no! Not at all! In fact, horses didn't start really replacing oxen on farms until the dawn of Draft Horses in the Victorian Era in the West. While many Eastern countries still retain the use of oxen for farming, Western European farmers fell prey to what we all dread: Peer pressure.

When Draft Horses started to appear in the scene in formal horse fancier associations, they were readily advertised as being excellent replacements for oxen (neutered male cows; so, a bull that has no balls). Oxen can be very stubborn, yet affectionate animals, and newer farmers often struggle more with handling oxen compared to horses. The Victorian Era saw a small boom in private farms, and so there became an increasing demand for "easy" farm cattle for newbie farmers to employ.

The other factor that played into horses replacing oxen in Western farming was clout. Horses are more expensive than oxen and generally seen as more prestigious to own. So, farmers often wound up "upgrading" from oxen to horses when their financial means allowed them to. The problem was that, in order to do the same amount of farm work with horses, you need more horses to replace exhausted or injured horses throughout each working day compared to how many more oxen you need to swap out throughout a day of heavy labor. But, nonetheless, horses took over for being "more trainable" and "more intelligent" than oxen (admittedly, oxen can be trickier to work with, but that does NOT mean that horses do a better job at hard field labor), and the Western oxen training industry has almost completely gone extinct.

Really, oxen do a lot better at extremely heavy jobs like tilling and plowing soil for growing crops and hauling large, heavy weights. Because oxen have cloven (two) hooves, they're a lot better at gripping the terrain and avoiding injury to their feet when they're working hard at awkward angles or on rough terrain. Oxen also pack on a lot more muscle and fat around their entire bodies, and so they have fewer vulnerable zones that can become irreparably damaged from exerting a lot of muscle power. Horses, only having a single hoof, can be rendered completely incapable of working or even running just from fracturing a hoof or stepping on a sharp object, like a nail.

-Any leg injury means instant euthanasia. No! No, no, no! There are lots of ways to treat a variety of injuries and illnesses that present in a horse's leg or foot. Especially nowadays, thanks to advances in all forms of prosthetics and 3D printing, horses are euthanized less and less for increasingly severe leg injuries courtesy of prosthetics and mobility aids! Some advances have been made so far that a horse that loses the lower portion of its leg can live a healthy life with a prosthetic!

Don't believe me?

Even in history, there have been treatments for leg and foot ailments for horses used before any talk of euthanasia is brought up. Remember: horses are often beloved service animals to people, today and a thousand years ago! Would you jump straight to euthanizing not only your best friend, but your primary mode of transport, as well as your extraordinarily-expensive ESA?

It's only in cases of severe breaks in a leg bone that injury-related euthanasia is discussed for a horse. Smaller fractures and hoof damage can actually be treated and healed, especially with modern veterinary science, and some fractures can be so successfully treated that a horse can return to riding and competing after recovering!

-Bits are cruel.

Look. There's one person that raked me over the coals in the replies for being ignorant in espousing bits as essential parts of a horse's bridle. I know who you are, and honestly, I feel the compassion you have for the animals... but you're still sipping a little much from PETA's kool-aid and did not convince me over to your side.

Yes, there are bridles that do not require bits to control a horse's head and communicate with it. Yes, there are riders that prefer them, and there are horses that can only be ridden with them due to bad experiences with bit-training or past dental problems. No, it's not cool to tut your fucking finger at me and call me ignorant when I assert that it's a very normal, standard part of tacking up and riding a horse, and the worst a bit can do is pinch the corner of a horse's lip or tongue if you are a jerk with your rein-etiquette. There are bits, just like I observed with spurs, that are specifically designed not to hurt or cause any distress to the horse, so if the person that dumped on me in the last post reads this one: Calm the fuck down and go take yourself on a walk along with your horse. Have an apple. You've clearly been in your stall too long.

As I was saying: Yes, there are different kinds of bits that are specifically designed not to harm a horse. Sometimes horses with smaller mouths or wrinklier lips (it's a thing) can have a hard time with specific bits due many of them sporting hinges where they wrap around out of the horse's mouth and connect to the bridle. This can be easily addressed by switching to a different kind of bit that's less harsh and more flexible for the sake of a horse's comfort, or getting rid of a bit altogether and swapping to bitless bridles. Ironically, I've met horses that actually stim with their bridles; they play with the bits with their tongues when they're excited before an event, kinda like they're grinding their teeth.

And yes, some horses can still have bad sensory issues with bits, and can need bitless bridles, and that's okay! The important thing about bridles in general is that they're the primary way a rider can communicate with the horse's head and show them where they want to go. As with riding, horses tend to go in the direction their heads are facing; they don't usually walk while looking sideways, but rather stand still to look sideways before turning back to the direction they want to go in to walk or run. A lot of riders are taught the phrase, "Head like a princess, hips like a whore," as a reminder to keep their hips loose and moving with the horse, but their heads focusing on where they want the horse to go, rather than looking at the scenery. Most riders, even those that are very experienced, can get distracted and accidentally put a little too much pressure on the horse's bridle and side in the direction of where they're looking, and that causes the horse to go off course, too.

-Horseshoes are incredibly painful and must be replaced only when absolutely necessary. Not at all! A horse's hoof is basically like a gigantic fingernail. While the inner core of the hoof, which is typically concave with a V shape in the middle and needs cleaning by stable hands on a regular basis to keep gunk, debris, and dangerous stuff like nails out of their feet is vulnerable to pain and injury, the rest of the hoof is literally a giant fingernail! A ferrier specializes at grooming a horse's hooves and trimming them so they don't overgrow (which can happen if they spend a lot of time on soft surfaces like grass), and many ferriers also specialize at setting and replacing horseshoes. A horseshoe specifically sits around the outer edge of a horse's hoof - specifically where a hoof is least sensitive and most likely to split or become damaged while riding and lead to infection and pain later - where the horse has no nerve endings. The nails that go into the horseshoe to hold it in place are actually very short and narrow at the tips, and only go into the solid nail a couple of inches into that same nerveless outer edge. The shortest horseshoe nails I've seen used are only 1.5 inches, or 4cm, and the largest around 2 inches, or 5cm and the worst a horse feels when a shoe is being set or replaced is a dull thudding from the tapping of the small hammer used to set the nails. A horse can literally go right back to business after their shoes are fitted, although a ferrier may recommend having them spend some quiet time in their stall for a couple of hours to really make sure the shoes are set properly and the horse is comfortable if something like a trip caused the original shoe to come off (the technical term is "casting a shoe").

My evening meds are kicking in, so I'll stop this very, very long sequel here.

As before, feel free to send me asks with more questions. I'm sure there are even more things I'm too sleepy to remember right now, and this post is running incredibly long.

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty (slow burn) romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 4.1k💠 Released: November 23

Previous | Next… | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Ok soooo, PLEASE forgive me for the long ahh wait for the next chapter I am SOOO sorry!!! Like I said in a post earlier tonight's gonna be DOUBLE CHAPTER night ok so buckle up! (The smut comes in chapter 8 which is coming out right after this one).

C.W: None

Tags: @nixalozt @lilthana @wakasaishot

↳ (Let me know via inbox or the comment section if you would also like to be tagged here for this story🩵). Enjoy guys!!

𝟕 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞

The night buzzes with excitement, and the faint hum of engines revving fills the air as a crowd unlike anything you've ever seen gathers at the underground race venue. It didn't take a genius to see this is no ordinary street race—not like the ones you'd ever see on Earth. This is Neon City's race circuit. Practically a battleground where the streets themselves became part of the danger.

A massive holographic screen hovers in the air, announcing the event along, and casting ghostly lights across the spacious subway landscape. Discreet drone cameras hover all throughout the "track" around the city. Some even hover by some of the racers, giving a sort of "behind the scenes" feel before the race starts.

"There's no rules here, no safety regulations. The only thing that matters is winning." You hear Benkei's voice snap you out of your awestruck daze as you gawk at the surroundings. You honestly can't even form a response, too busy being overstimulated and anxious to really hold any sort of conversation. Everyone and everything is so colorful and captivating. Like Times Square in New York City.

The vehicles that line up for these races are decked out with enhancements that would be literally impossible on Earth—gravity-defying jumps, reinforced vehicles built to survive brutal collisions, and offensive systems to sabotage their competition. Every racer knows the risks, but none of them seem to care. They're each addicted to the thrill, to the rush of speed, the danger, and most importantly, to the glory of being the one who comes out on top.

You stand off to the side with Wakasa's crew, your heart racing. The neon lights reflect off your eyes as you take it all in, the sights, the sounds, the intensity of it all. Honestly, it's like something out of Mario kart, minus the cute playfulness and ability to pause or retry the races. This is real life and there's absolutely no room for any of the racers to make a mistake, as it would mean risking their life.

"Hey! Love your outfit!"

You turn, surprised by the sudden compliment, and are greeted by a bright, bubbly girl with striking pink hair that cascades down her shoulders like water waves. Her eyes are an equally vibrant shade of pink, sparkling like candy gems beneath the neon lights. She literally looks like a movie character or something.

You blink, taken aback for a moment by the sheer beauty of the girl. "Thanks but...," You trail off, a smile curling your lips. "This pink going on? It's giving Valentine's Day; it's giving Barbie." You compliment.

The pink-haired girl's face lights up even more, her eyes twinkling as she giggles. "Valentine's Day? What's that?"

You laugh softly. "It's a holiday where I'm from. It's like a day of love. Pink, red, and purple. It's the colors we associate with love."

"Aww, thank you! I love it." The girl beams. "I'm Astra."

Before you can introduce yourself, another voice joins the conversation. "Don't hog all the spotlight," The second girl teases lightly, stepping forward with a playful grin. She has midnight blue hair cut into a sharp bob that frames her delicate face perfectly, her eyes an equally deep shade of blue that shimmer under the city's lights.

"I'm Nafré," She adds, flicking a strand of hair out of her face. "Love the vibe you're giving off, by the way."

You feel warmth rush through you as you smile at her. "Thanks! You look amazing too! That hair color is so pretty."

Astra grins, giving a mock bow. "Why, thank you."

The three of you share a moment of laughter, compliments bouncing back and forth like old friends as you drift away from Benkei and the others. It's actually refreshing. You hadn't really expected to make friends so quickly (or at all) in this world, let alone ones so sweet and welcoming.

"So, what brings y'all to the race?" You ask curiously, glancing between them.

"Oh, my boyfriend's racing tonight," Astra explains with a smile. "He's been readying up for this big gig for weeks, so of course, I had to come and cheer him on. I dragged Nafré along because—well, she's my best friend and all."

Nafré grinned. "Not like I had a choice. But hey, the races are fun! It's an adrenaline rush."

"I've never seen you before. Is this your first time at a race?" Astra asks.

You nod. Technically it is since you didn't really get to see the race between Jaxon and Zero. Though that was probably for the best. "Yeah actually. I'm here for Wakasa. He's racing too."

The two girls exchange a quick look at each other.

"What?" Nafré gawks, her brow raised in disbelief.

Astra adds, "Here for him as in a fan or....?"

"Here with him?" Nafré finishes.

"Uhhh, with." You chuckle awkwardly, watching as their expressions morph into a look of awe.

"Stop! Are you serious?!", Astra gawks, "Are you his girlfriend?!"

"Huh?! No no no," You shake your head, "I'm literally just here for the ride."

Nafré raises a brow, her smirk growing playful. "Ohh, here for the ride, huh?" She teases, winking suggestively.

You burst into laughter, covering your face with your hands for a moment. "Wait no! Not like that!"

Astra wasn't about to let you off the hook so easily. "Uh-huh, right," She teases, crossing her arms and giving you a knowing look. "I've literally never seen Wakasa bring a girl along to his races before, like ever. But you wanna sit here and tell me it's not like that? Yeah ok."

"Yeah I can't lie, that was a nice try. Everyone knows what it means when a guy brings a girl along to watch one of his races. Especially when he brings her to "the pit" (The Pit: The closest you can be towards the starting and finishing line in a Neon City race)." Astra chimes in, gesturing around to where you all are.

"Well...I mean—"

"It's alright girl, you don't have to make up anything. I kept things lowkey with Shin in the beginning too. I only went to one race, and it was just a beginner one." Astra grins.

"Oh yeah, by the way, which one is Shin?" You ask, your eyes scanning out towards all the racers. The girls keep on walking to get a closer look at all the racers.

"That one. He's six away from your man." She replies.

Your heart does a little unnecessary flutter when she calls Waka your man, but you quickly brush it off. You follow her pointed finger, eyes landing on a particularly tall guy with dark hair and a silver chain around his neck. He's pretty good looking, dressed fairly casual with black jeans and a white t-shirt, and he also rides a motorcycle just like Waka does.

"Okkkk! Girl, he's not bad!" You compliment, giving her an approving nod.

"Right! And to think I used to date—

"Don't even say it." Nafré cuts in, face palming.

"....Who?!" You ask cautiously. It's not like you'd even know, seeing as you're quite literally not from here.

"...Zero." She chokes out, looking down and to the side shamefully.

"Noooo! Stop!" You gasp, hovering your hands over your mouth. Of all people....

"Yeah. It-...it wasn't my best era." She chuckles awkwardly.

"Girl...." You trail off, not even sure what to say since you actually do know who that is thanks to Jaxon's race with him. "Well, you know what, you've leveled up now! Shin seems like a really nice guy!"

"He is." She gushes, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "Hey Shin!" She calls out, waving her arm to get his attention. He actually notices, instantly turning around with a wide smile, waving at her then blowing a kiss her way.

"Aaaaaw!" You and Nafré gush. It's so crazy how calm and even happy these guys seem even though they're all just moments away from engaging in a life threatening race.

You look over at Wakasa, who's standing by his bike talking to Benkei, Jaxon, and some other guy you've never seen before with a scar along his face. The reality starts to sink back in, having been swept away in the breeze of conversation between Nafré and Astra, that this is still a dangerous and potentially life threatening event. A frown replaces the previous warm smile, and your heart begins to sink with worry.

"Hey. Why don't you go talk to your man?" Nafré asks, with almost scarily perfect timing to negate the oncoming rush of anxious thoughts towards this race.

"Definitely not my man...but I was actually just thinkin' about going over to talk to him real quick before the race starts." You tell her in a low tone, then shoot her a quick "I'll be right back", breaking away from the two and heading over to where Waka and his friends are.

He notices you instantly, and you catch a glimpse of a faint softness in his eyes as you approach. "Came to see me off?" He grins.

"Yeah" You begin, nervously fiddling with your hands in front of you, "I know you've done this a lot and stuff but...this whole thing looks really dangerous, you know? So, you better be careful, ok? For real, I don't wanna see you—

"Oh Waka, please be careful!" Benkei suddenly mimics loudly, pitching his voice higher and fluttering his hands dramatically in the air, much to Jaxon's amusement.

"Nah, don't worry about me, baby. I got this." Jaxon chimes in, the two of them chuckling like idiots behind you both.

Your eyes narrow, cheeks burning up with embarrassment as the guys go on playing around. They continue their back and forth but walk away to you guys some space. You hear the other man with the scar on his face briefly ask who you are, before they completely fade out of earshot.

Waka chuckles softly, shaking his head. "See? Now you've got them goin'. But for real, don't worry. I got this."

His smirk deepens. "Besides"—he leans in slightly, lowering his voice—"I've got an undefeated record I gotta keep up. Can't let 'em ruin my streak. Not with a pretty doll like you watchin'." He hums, lightly tapping under your chin.

You shake your head, a small smile draping across your lips. "You really think racing in front of me's gonna be enough to keep you from losing?"

"Absolutely," He replies, his voice a little lower, yet equally as playful. He straightens up, leaning just close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. "And actually...I was thinkin' we should make this interesting."

"How could this possibly get more interesting?" You raise a brow, curiosity piqued.

"It ain't a real racing experience if you don't make a bet. That's how it goes around here. So how 'bout this", He says, holding your gaze with a bold intensity that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine, "If I win, you're comin' home with me to celebrate."

Your cheeks warm immediately, and you try to ignore the quickening of your pulse, as well as the multitude of very unfriendly-like imaginations of going home with him. You don't back down from his challenge though. Keeping your tone light, you raise a brow as if unaffected. "Hmm..ok, and if you lose?"

Wakasa's eyes sparkle, a dangerous glint in his lilac gaze. "I won't."

The simple, confident reply makes your heart skip, but you feign indifference once again, giving a dismissive wave. "How 'bout you just focus on winning first, before thinkin' about what's going down after, ok? Now that's a deal."

"Believe it or not I like to plan ahead." He muses playfully.

The announcer calls for all of the racers to start heading out to the starting line, and it makes your anxiety spike once again.

"Alright, make sure you keep you're eyes open." He says.

"I'll try..." You murmur nervously, giving him a small wave goodbye, watching as he heads off to his bike at the starting line.

You chew on your lip till it hurts, trying to hold back the unease gnawing at you. You want to be fully excited, you really do, but this isn't at all what you were initially expecting of a street race. This one is even crazier looking than the last one you caught a glimpse of at Sector 9. Your fingers subconsciously grip tightly around Benkei's muscular arm, holding on as if the contact would somehow ground you.

Benkei glances down, noticing your grip, and chuckles. "You're really worked up, huh?" His tone lightly teasing. "I'm tellin' you, Waka's got this. He always does."

"I know, I know." You reply, trying to sound confident, but your voice wavers heavily. You don't pull away from him, though. "It's just...this is really different, you know, from races I'm used to. The track, the traps...I don't know. We don't do races like this where I'm from."

The other friend with the scar, who's standing on the other side of Benkei chimed in. "Don't stress yourself out. He's undefeated for a reason. I'm Takeomi by the way. Me and Waka go way back."

"I'm Y/N. We kinda just met." You tell him with a shy yet pleasant smile.

"I can tell..." He says, giving Jaxon and Benkei a look. You could tell what he was silently asking them.

Is this his girl or something? What's he doing bringing her here?

Though the guys mean well, their casual confidence makes you want to scream. You know they're probably right—Wakasa's been u defeated for who knows how long, and he likely isn't about to lose his streak now—but still, the pit of dread in your stomach refuses to settle. The thought of something going wrong, of one of those other racers playing dirty, makes your chest tighten. You aren't used to feeling this way, so utterly out of control, so scared.

And then, the countdown begins.

The huge holographic screen above everyone lights up, displaying a massive number 10 in glowing neon blue. The crowd starts chanting, voices rising in unison, the excitement in the air nearly palpable.

9

Your heart starts racing, thrumming in your ears as you glance over at Wakasa. He's laser focused, his gaze locked on the track ahead, hands gripping the handlebars of his bike like he's already one with the machine.

8

The other racers revved their engines, taunting him, trying to get in his head. But Wakasa doesn't flinch even a little. His eyes remain sharp, his jaw set. He was ready.

7

"Please be careful..." You whisper, barely aware of the words leaving your own lips. Your grip on Benkei tightens, and this time, he doesn't tease you about it. He simply gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

6. 5. 4.

Your hands start to tremble slightly, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, eyes never leaving Wakasa.

3

The racers all continue revving their engines loudly, like a bunch of bulls knocking and banging against the wooden gate, eager to be freed into the ring.

2

You can feel it, the tension, the anticipation, the quiet before the storm.

1...GO!

The racers shoot forward, a rush of sound and motion that blurred into streaks of neon. Wakasa's bike left a trail of purple light as it surged ahead, weaving through the tightly packed starting line with effortless precision.

The track started deep in the subway system, a labyrinth of tunnels barely wide enough to contain the speeding vehicles. The first turn came quickly, a sharp curve to the right that forced the racers to swerve hard. Taking a turn at that speed has to be physically impossible.

You wince, squeezing your eyes closed as your breath catches. On the holographic screen above, you watch as Wakasa leans into the turn with full confidence, the purple streak behind him carving a perfect arc through the chaos.

The other racers aren't as graceful though. One clips the wall, sparks flying as their bike scrapes against the steel. Another misjudges the angle entirely, spinning out and slamming directly into a support pillar. The pit crowd roared, half cheering, half jeering.

You can't even begin to cheer. Your breath catches every time the camera cuts back to Wakasa, terrified to see a shot of him crashing or even worse. He maneuvers through the wreckage with nearly surgical precision, tilting his bike at impossible angles to dodge debris and weaving seamlessly through the narrow spaces.

"I can't, I can't, I can't...." You repeat under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen as your foot taps the ground anxiously where you stand.

The track twists again, plunging deeper into the tunnels before reaching the opening to the city. The racers were now jockeying for position, their vehicles packed tightly together as they vied for dominance. One rider, a hulking figure on a chrome-plated bike, edged closer to Wakasa, trying to box him in against the wall.

Your stomach twists in anxiety as she saw the narrow gap Wakasa had to navigate. The chrome racer leaned in aggressively, but Wakasa didn't flinch. Instead, he braked sharply, his bike tilting back slightly as he let the other racer overshoot the angle. In a flash, Wakasa swerves left, slipping past the gap and accelerating ahead, his purple streak cutting through the maze like a lightning bolt.

The pit erupted in cheers, but her hands were still trembling.

Your heart pounds as the race transitions aboveground, the vehicles bursting onto the neon-lit streets of the city. The holographic display adjusts to follow the racers as they all speed through tight alleyways and open highways, the city’s towering structures a vibrant blur in the background.

The race aboveground is even more chaotic than underground. The racers now have to contend with the unpredictable layout of the city, weaving through alleyways, highways, and pedestrian walkways. Wakasa remains ahead of most of the pack, his bike darting through tight spaces with unerring precision.

Your heart nearly stops as the screen shows one of the racers behind him deploying some kind of medium sized drone. The device zips forward, its spiked appendages whirring menacingly as it closes in on Wakasa's rear tire.

"He's cheating!" You outburst.

"Unfortunately, it's legal." Jaxon says with a huff.

But Wakasa must have sensed what was going on behind him. Without looking back, he veers sharply to the right, cutting onto another street entirely, filled with pedestrians and other drivers simply heading from home from work. The drone follows him, its mechanical limbs scraping against the walls as it tries to keep up.

The street suddenly opens up into a plaza, and Waka seizes the moment. He tilted his bike sharply, skidding in a controlled slide that sent the drone hurtling past him. It smashes into a streetlight, exploding in a shower of sparks.

The crowd erupts into cheers once again, but at this point you're barely remembering to breathe.

The race plunges back underground, this time into an abandoned maintenance tunnel that's barely wide enough for the racers. The camera switches to an overhead view, showing how the racers have to line up single file to avoid colliding with the walls.

Wakasa, now in second place, uses the tight space to his advantage. He edges closer to the lead racer, his bike nearly grazing the wall as he closed the gap. Just as the tunnel began to widen, Waka makes his move. He accelerates sharply, leaning forward until his body was almost parallel to the bike. The purple streak flares brighter as he shoots past the lead racer, his bike slipping through the narrowing gap with millimeters to spare.

Your breath hitches. He's pushing so hard, taking so many risks and doing all these crazy tricks. 

The holographic screen cut to another angle, showing the cyber-police drones beginning to close in on the racers at the back of the pack. Their blue lights flicker ominously as they hone in on their targets. One drone shoots forward, deploying a neon red energy net that ensnares a struggling racer and sends him spinning completely out of control.

Wakasa, far ahead of the chaos, seems unfazed. He maintains his lead as the track transitioned back to the streets. The camera followed him closely as he navigates a series of hairpin turns, the purple streak behind him tracing impossible angles.

Just then, a group of seven cyber-police drones turn out from between skyscrapers, attempting to cut him off from the front as two other bots catch up to him from behind, weaving through the other racers. 

"Gosh this is too much...!" You groan, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip as you clasp your now sweaty hands together. Your mind races, as if trying to think for him for a way to somehow get out of this situation. But there's no need. 

Suddenly, Waka pulls to an abrupt stop, three other racers and two cyber-police drones zooming in front of him. He immediately pulls into a quick reverse, driving backwards and sharply turning into an alleyway that he uses as a shortcut. The audience goes absolutely wild, everyone screaming and hollering in awe at the insane move he just pulled. 

"WHAT?! WAIT, HOW THE HELL?" You outburst, your jaw on the floor. The other racers all crash into the cyber-police, causing a multi-vehicle collision, including poor non-racing drivers. 

"That's Waka for you. Crazy bastard." Both Takeomi and Benkei mutter at the same time. Jaxon's expression is the same as your, completely blown away with his eyes glued to the big screen.

The final stretch of the race is a straightaway leading to a glowing finish line. Behind him, the other racers left are still jostling for his position, though all they can hope for at this point is second place. They all reenter the subway, the scenery on the big screen looking familiar as they make their way back. The sounds of their engines becoming louder with each second.

Wakasa crosses the "finish line" first, his bike slowing as the crowd erupts into roaring cheers. The purple streak fades, leaving only the faint glow of the underground lights reflecting off his bike.

You exhale a shaky breath, your body starting to relax as you realize it's finally over.

The racers who made it back all cut off their engines, instantly getting surrounded by their friends, girlfriends, and others as they dismount from their bikes or hop out of their cars.

Without thinking, your legs pull you into action, weaving through people as you run towards him. He notices you just as he dismounts from his bike, his lilac eyes lighting up at the sight of you once again.

The corners of his mouth curve into an easygoing, satisfied grin just as you barrel into him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. The drones all zoom in on the two of you, catching all kinds of angles as the holographic screen displays it for everyone to see.

But the both of you are too preoccupied to notice.

“You won, oh my gosh!” You beam, clinging to him. “That was insane—I can't even believe you! You're giving..." You trail off, struggling to find the right descriptive words, "You were out there giving...just like straight up—

Without warning, he crouches down slightly, wrapping an arm firmly around the backs of your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground and slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes or something with a mischievous looking grin on his lips.

"Hey! Wait, my skirt!" You holler, quickly using a hand to hold the back of your skirt in place just in case. Nonchalantly he heads back over to his bike parked across the finish line.

"What're you doing?! Put me down!" You laugh. The drones are all still locked in on the two of you, playing out what's happening on that jumbo screen.

"Not a chance. Bet's a bet. I won, so I'm cashin' in. " He says, smirking as he straightens up, holding you securely. He turns to face his crew, Jaxon and Benkei already bubbling up with laughter, and Takeomi simply shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

"Alright, I'm gettin' outta here, boys." He calls out, "I gotta handle somethin'."

"Take it easy on her, Waka. She's still new to your crazy lifestyle." Benkei teases, crossing his arms and grinning from ear to ear. 

"Yeah man, don't scare her off." Takeomi adds, though his teasing tone suggests he isn't at all worried about that.

"Bruh, this is so embarrassing. There's literally cameras everywhere; we're on the big screen!" You protest between laughs, though that laughter and the sparkle in your eyes betray just how much fun you're actually having.

"There's nothin' embarrassing about it. Everybody can see how pretty you are." He replies playfully, setting you down just to help you onto his bike. Then, he swings his leg over the bike and settles in front of you, the sleek black machine rumbling to life beneath you once again. You barely have time to process what's happening before Waka revvs the engine. "Hold on tight." He says, glancing back at you with a smirk.

"You and this crazy bike..." You groan, memories form your first time riding with him resurfacing as you tightening your grip around him. 

He pulls off and out of the scene, leaving the erupting cheers and drone cameras behind. 

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Yaaaasss! It always feels so good putting out another chapter😌anyways stayed tuned for chapter 8! I should have it out in like an hour or so teeheee!!

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 31: Performance Enhancers (Aphrodisiacs)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic is trying to make some performance enhancers for his teammates. In a way, he succeeds, but these effects aren’t going to be much help on the battlefield.

Tags: Aphrodisiacs, oral, experiments gone sexual, begging, overstimulation

Word Count: 3.5k

The Masterlist

It was a secret to no one that Medic experiments tended to go hand-in-hand with dubious ethics and even more questionable safety standards. The Spy head that he perpetually kept in a mini fridge was evidence enough of that. You could still remember the way you shrieked when you first opened that fridge, searching for something refreshing to sip on, only to be met with the decapitated Frenchman who immediately begged for you to kill him. However, that had been a long time ago, and you were now quite well acquainted with not only your dear doctor, but also his affinity for morbid experimentation. It was just another one of many things that attracted you to him.

What wasn’t always so attractive were the unforeseen consequences of some of these experiments. The bread monster incident was just one such occasion. One time a baby baboon pumped full of growth hormones and baby formula had gotten loose in the mess hall. Another occasion involved some horrid mix between mad science and necromancy that nearly started a zombie apocalypse. That last one just happened to occur during Halloween, so you could admire the seasonal appropriateness, if nothing else.

The invention of a truth serum was probably one of the worst happenings though. It probably wouldn’t have been too bad… if it weren’t paired with poker night. An inability to bluff and a few poorly chosen words later, what amounted to a family game night nearly escalated into a full out brawl that left at least one grown man in tears- probably Scout. Things were said that night, things that should never be repeated. The truth serum was now kept in a locked safe.

All that said, this was still probably one of the most surprising of unforeseen consequences that you had ever stumbled upon, perhaps simply due to the subtly of it. There were no explosions to be heard, no toxic fumes to air out, and not a single decapitated head or severed limb in sight. No, instead what you walked in on was a very jittery, very flushed, and very much visibly aroused Medic desperately fanning his red face with some paperwork that he had been procrastinating on for days. It was in this state that you found him, and while you had several questions, almost all of them could be summed up with a simple, ‘what the hell happened here?’

Medic was quick to explain himself, although his voice lacked the confidence it usually carried whenever he talked about his latest scientific endeavors. “I was experimenting with some performance enhancers. Just a little something to give our team more of an edge in battle.” Medic’s eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid your inquisitive gaze. It was like he was nervous or even embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable state. “It’s all quite simple, really. Increased blood flow, inducing adrenaline rushes, etcetera. These are temporary side effects of the serum that will all be worked out in the end, I assure you!”

Etcetera? Medic had just used the word ‘etcetera’ to describe one of his experiments. On any other day the mad doctor would have eagerly walked you through every tiny detail of complex chemical reactions, discussing which components caused certain effects or nullified others. For him to simply trail off like that was proof enough that these ‘simple side effects’ were affecting him far more severely than he was letting on.

“Well, it certainly is increasing blood flow,” you said, unable to resist the urge to make the most obvious quip at his expense. At least that managed to get a chuckle out of him. Medic glanced aside, looking uncharacteristically bashful.

“Ja, testing it on myself probably wasn’t my best decision,” he admitted.

You heaved an exasperated sigh, placing your head in your hands. “God damn it, Medic, imagine how badly this could have gone if this ‘blood flow’ had decided to rush anywhere else! You could have had a stroke or something.” He could probably use a few strokes of a different kind right about now, but you didn’t say that bit out loud, no matter how funny it might be.

“Well, that’s what respawn is for,” Medic said, shrugging off your concern. You rolled your eyes. Functional immortality really did put a damper on one’s sense of self preservation. “That said, would you mind assisting me, liebchen?”

“I don’t know, Medic,” you said, reluctance evident in your tone. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help him. In fact you would very much enjoy it. There was just something you had to make sure of first. “Are you even in your right mind at the moment?”

“Oh I certainly am! Nothing in the serum affects cognition,” he assured you. “And I would really appreciate your help.” He paused when a shudder ran up his spine. You couldn’t deny you loved how positively needy he looked, and then came the nail in the coffin. “ Bitte , mein liebling.”

Fuck, that tone. It corroded any lingering inhibitions you may have had. You were ready, now thoroughly reassured that a Medic was in his right mind- well, as much as a mad scientist willing to commit grand theft skeleton could be, anyway. “Alright, but let’s at least take this somewhere more comfortable,” you said, nodding towards Medic’s room, conveniently located in an offshoot room of the infirmary.

You could have sworn Medic was shaking as you led him there, directing him to sit on the bed while you dropped to your knees in front of him. He was so hard, painfully hard, evident even through the thick fabric of his jodhpurs. You made quick work of the buttons and zippers, pulling him from the confines of his briefs to feel him twitch in your hand. Your breathing quickened, but you couldn’t let yourself get too hot and bothered. You were on a mission.

Precum already leaked from Medic’s cock, dripping down the shaft. You could taste it as you took him into your mouth. His head fell back and he groaned as you began to set a steady pace, bobbing your head and keeping your lips tight around his length. You felt him throb against your tongue when you moaned around him, knowing how much he loved the vibrations it caused. With how desperate Medic was, you had expected this to be quick. However, it seemed that his stamina had increased alongside his libido.

You pulled away, giving yourself a chance to breathe more easily and letting your aching jaw rest. “You really need to be more careful with these things,” you said, once again scolding Medic for his recklessness. “I know we have respawn, but-”

Medic grabbed your hair, and you were cut off mid sentence as he pushed you back towards his cock, you gasped, grabbing onto his thighs to keep from falling forward. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, startled by the sudden forcefulness. The moment his gaze met yours the tight grip on your hair was released.

“Oh Gott, I’m sorry, liebchen!” Medic said, panicking a bit when he realized how rough he had been with no warning. Even so, that neediness still shined through as he begged you. “But please, don’t stop!”

He sounded so desperate that you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad. “Alright, I won’t stop,” you reassured him. Your voice shook, and while one may assume it was from nerves you knew deep down that it was from arousal. You hadn’t exactly minded the rougher treatment from your doctor. Once again, you tried to shake the feeling off, focusing on your task.

You picked up where you left off, working your tongue just the way he liked, distracting yourself from the stiffness beginning to settle in your neck by listening to his moans. You had never heard Medic be so vocal before. He was already a fairly loud and excitable man, whether in or out of bed, but this was definitely the loudest you had ever managed to get him to be from a simple blow job alone. You heard his voice start to break. That along with the way he twitched within your mouth signaled that he was close.

Medic pressed a hand over his mouth, but it did little to muffle the sinful noises he made when his climax overtook him. His hips twitched slightly, only going still when you placed your hands on his waist. You gripped him tightly, but not hard enough to hurt. It was just enough to let him know that he needed to control himself, or at least try to avoid thrusting down your throat without warning.

When the twitching and shuddering finally subsided you pulled away, taking in a much needed breath of air. “Fuck, that was hot,” you said, panting. There was no point in hiding how attractive you found the whole situation anymore. Medic was observant. He would have noticed anyway. So you decided to just outright ask for what you wanted. “You wouldn’t mind returning the favor, would you?”

“Of course, darling.” He chuckled, low and devious. “I’m not done with you yet.” Medic didn’t sound like he had calmed down at all. If anything, his voice seemed to growl, giving him a feral edge. Before you knew it you were thrown onto the bed, being peppered with kisses so fast it made your head spin. You squirmed under the relentless barrage of affection, barely restraining the soft moans that fell from your lips. Your hips bucked and met with a familiar hardness, but surely it couldn’t be…

You managed to steal a glance downward, and sure enough, Medic was already erect again. Apparently this serum of his shortened refractory periods as well. You pressed your thigh between his legs and he jumped, moaning softly near your ear. The sound only aroused you more. “Please, Medic,” you begged, barely above a whisper. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. You just knew that you needed to be touched soon or you would lose your mind.

He made quick work of your pants, stripping you from the waist down. His pace was so frantic that it was surprising that he didn’t simply tear the clothing from your body. You kicked your underwear off from around your ankles and it fell to the hardwood floor with a soft thud, joining the rest of the discarded coverings. You spoke his name in short gasps, it being one of the few coherent words you could say between breath stealing kisses. He made his way down your body and you shuddered as he left a trail of kisses from your neck to your inner thighs, where he even dared to nip at the tender flesh with his teeth, making you yelp.

Your legs were hoisted onto his shoulders. Medic held them there for a moment, feeling how the muscles trembled beneath his touch. Then he dove in, his tongue meeting your clit with gentle flicks. There was no tentativeness in his movements. In fact one could say he was ruthless, sucking and lapping at you, drawing moan after moan from your throat.

Medic reached down, wrapping a fist around his cock, thrusting into his own hand. He moaned against your clit, making you squirm. One of your hands held a white knuckled grip on the sheets while the other was entangled in Medic's hair, using it like reins to guide him to where it felt best. “That’s so good. Fuck, keep going, just like that!” you gasped when Medic moaned again. Your praise spurred him on and he stroked himself faster, precum slickening his grip and making it feel even better, but it wasn’t enough. What he wanted more than anything was to feel you clenching around him, so warm and wet. “Wait, stop,” you gasped suddenly, pulling back on his hair until he was looking up at you.

Everything ceased as Medic waited for you to catch your breath, his one hand awkwardly still on his dick and the other resting on your thigh. He looked a proper mess, hair disheveled, mouth agape, and lips drenched. You smiled at the sight, putting Medic at ease. He had been worried something was wrong when you stopped him.

“I was about to come,” you said, still breathing hard. “But I want you to fuck me, please. I want to come on your cock.”

It was a wonder how Medic kept himself from quite literally jumping at the opportunity. He managed to restrain his reaction to a soft “Of course, liebling,” but even then his voice and body both shook with anticipation. He rushed to undress fully, tossing his remaining clothes to the floor in a heap before kneeling on the bed between your legs. His fingers pressed against your slit, feeling just how wet you were. Hd couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to be inside of you, quickly lining up and thrusting into you with a deep groan.

Medic sank in to the hilt, going still for a moment as he took his time to savor the feeling of you. Your warmth throbbed around him, and it took all of his restraint to keep from fucking you mercilessly. He wanted to. Oh, it was impossible to describe just how badly he wanted to make a mess of you. But he knew you preferred a gradual warm up, so that was what he would give you, no matter how agonizing it was to go so slow, to be gentle. Your pleasure was worth the effort, and he knew the denial of his own desires would only make the eventual orgasm even more rewarding.

As for you, you could appreciate the tender pace for a while. However it wasn’t long before you found yourself grinding against those languid thrusts, trying to chase after more. Your hands came to rest on Medic’s shoulders, and you could immediately feel how tense he was. It was clear that he was holding back. It seemed that a little encouragement would be needed for him to show you just how good it felt to be under those powerful hips of his.

“Harder!” Your voice cracks, making you sound even more pathetic. “Medic, please!”

He met your gaze with a look of surprise. He hadn’t expected you to adjust so quickly, but then he recalled how you had reacted when he tried to push you back onto his cock earlier. Your face went red when he grabbed your hair and shoved your head down. The memory made him chuckle as he realized just what you needed. “Do you like it when I’m rough with you, liebling?” An especially hard thrust cut off any response you may have had with an utterly pitiful moan.

“Please,” you repeated a desperate plea when he went still again, giving you a chance to answer him. It was all the confirmation Medic needed to know that you were ready and willing m.

“Well, this is just perfect.” His grin was wide, almost manic in its intensity. It both frightened and excited you. “I suppose I can stop holding back.”

You were held down, Medic’s hands pinning you wrists, letting you enjoy the illusion of helplessness as he thrust into you faster and harder. You loved every minute of it, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as moans spilled from you freely. Being at his mercy as he rutted into you like a beast in heat was a feeling that you could easily get addicted to. His moans came out in low, growl like sounds that only aroused you further. It felt as if he could bite down on you at any moment, tasting and savoring you like fresh prey.

For a moment you thought you would get just that when you felt Medic bare his teeth against your ear. “So beautiful, mein braves mädchen,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his grip on your wrists tightening enough to make you whimper. “Gott, you feel so good.” He made such sweet words sound so unbridled and passionately primal. It was intoxicating to be desired so carnally, and it certainly helped drive you towards the edge.

“Medic! I’m-” You cut yourself off with a cry when Medic changed his angle ever so slightly, just enough to brush against a very good spot. Your fingers dug into the sheets as you tried to pull yourself together enough to say something coherent. “I’m close!”

“Moan louder for me.” Medic took a fistful of your hair, tugging it back until you could only look up at him. “I want to hear you scream as you come for me, mädchen.”

Oh, you screamed alright. You were certain anyone in the immediate vicinity of the infirmary would have heard you. However you couldn’t bring yourself to care as your orgasm ripped through you, muscles taut and shaking until you came down from your high, going limp beneath Medic. Not that he seemed to care, as he went on chasing his own release without pause.

That domineering visage of his was beginning to fall apart. “Oh Gott, bitte, bitte!” He was breathless, unsure as to what he was even begging for as he reached the tipping point, oblivious to your whimpering as he thrust into your overstimulated cunt. With a strangled cry he went still, burying himself within you and doubling over. You were worried that he would collapse, but thankfully Medic recovered enough to roll off of you before letting himself fall against the mattress with a sigh.

You winced slightly, even the feeling of him withdrawing sending painful jolts of overstimulation up your spine. It was like electricity dancing across your skin, every inch of your body feeling so very sensitive. After a few moments of heavy breathing you finally managed to speak. “Feeling better now?”

“Ja…” Medic was panting, his hand shaking slightly as he reached over to stroke your cheek. “For now.”

“For now?” you repeated, staring blankly at the exhausted man in front of you before asking a question that you partially dreaded the answer to. “Medic, how long is this supposed to last?”

Medic looked deep in thought for a moment, as if trying to calculate something in his head while still fighting through the post orgasmic haze that had settled over the two of you. Finally, he murmured something that you were just barely able to hear. “Six hours, at most.”

Six hours.

Six fucking hours .

The most frustrating part was you couldn’t even be indignant about the fact that it lasted that long. It was how long an average work day would be for the mercs, after all, and this whole thing had started with him trying to make a performance enhancer. Medic noticed your expression, and quickly tried to rectify the situation. “But that’s just at most! It could be less…”

You tuned him out. You had already decided what your next course of action would be, no matter the consequences. It was clear you would need some chemical enhancement of your own to get through this. “Medic, do you have any of that serum left?”

Medic looked confused, but he nodded. “It’s on the counter near the medicine cabinets.” He motioned vaguely towards the door leading to the infirmary. “I don’t see what good it will do though, given these side effects.” You had to keep yourself from once again becoming exasperated. You would have thought that even in this state Medic would at least keep such a powerful chemical in a safe place. Instead, sure enough, you poked your head out of the bedroom door to find it just lying on a nearby counter. Medic narrowed his eyes when he saw you return with the small vial of red liquid.

“This might just have a use yet,” you said, popping the cork on the vial. Before Medic could utter a word of protest, you downed the serum. The feeling as you drank the sweet yet spicy liquid was like warm bath water being pumped through your veins, disconcerting yet comforting at the same time. All the heat slowly but surely centered in your core. “There, now we’re in this together.” You closed and locked the bedroom door with a grin, shooting a glance towards Medic. Oh, he was definitely fully hard again, but this time he wasn’t even sure if it’s from the aphrodisiac or simply because he found your newly discovered ‘no-fucks-given’ attitude to be incredibly attractive.

“Liebchen. I need you to come over here and have your way with me, right now,” he practically growled, his fingers digging into the edges of the mattress.

“You are so lucky we don’t have work tomorrow,” you said, noting how your voice was already shaking with an almost primal desperation. The oversensitivity you had been feeling was replaced with a burning need. “I don’t think either of us are going to be walking much after tonight.”

Medic pulled you forward, letting you straddle him. “Gott, what did I do to deserve you, liebe?” he asked, his words dissolving into a low moan as you sank down onto his cock with surprising ease, starting to ride him slow and steady. It was going to be a very sleepless night, and you had best pray that no one would be paying any late night visits to the infirmary- for their sake.

[homesickn]

Isn't bite also touch?

Chapter one! (Weekly updates)

(Loki x Female demon!reader, eventual smut!)

Check chapter two here!

SUMMARY: Loki was saved by a demon and now the demon girl is attached to him like a cat is attached to catnip.

Is this trickery? Is this Devil lying to Loki to gift him punishment?

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (future chapters), angst, mentions of trauma, emotional manipulation, demonic creatures.

Tags: Hurt Loki, protective Loki, protective reader, grumpy Loki, fluff and angst, Grumpy/Sunshine, hurt/comfort, soft Loki at times (he's touch-starved but emotionally unstable), bubbly reader, (future) demon-sex.

Note: Hello! This is my first time writing for Loki and sharing a story of mine, English is not my first language so please be kind.

Everything has been made with lots of love, and I'll see if I add more tags as the story goes. If you like it, please let me know your thoughts!

“We caught him. We got Loki.” Steve Rogers bragged, spreading the news to the team through the tiny speaker the headphones had.

Some sighed relieved, others—specifically Tony, accompanied by Natasha, hurried to examine the cell he was going to stay at, temporarily, before being sent to receive Asgardian punishment.

Loki didn't seem even slightly defeated at the concept of staying in the cell once again, it's almost as if he's planned it, and with Loki, you could never know. He still had the smugness in his expression, but he lacked his army and scepter, so the Avengers couldn't help but be overly suspicious of his unbothered behavior.

The cell was intrinsically made to protect the external side from whatever— or whoever— was inside, a stronger, hopefully more long-lasting copy of the first that was destroyed before the official New York attack. The concept was created by S.H.I.E.L.D with the support of Stark to provide safety to everyone whenever Hulk decided to come out, and Loki knew it was still that way, but at the moment those were the special occasions in which it can be lent to any dangerous individual. 

But seeing as they had to strengthen the new cell, based on what happened to the first, Loki didn't know what the improvements of this one were.

Anyhow, none of the Avengers expected that a being was rushing to the same spot some of them were, at the same time. You hurried sneakily hoping not to be found, hiding in the shadows to find the local you were informed of.

The shadows moved with you whenever you walked, in the literal sense, and morphing to whatever shape you desired. The silence that your footsteps provided was unfamiliar to human (or enhanced humans, or alien) ears. 

When you arrived at the cell responsible for locking Loki — recently having discovered his name — you hesitated coming closer, seeing that Stark and Romanoff were there first. You chose the option of sticking to your shadows by the corner. 

“Second time you come here, and this time Banner is well-protected and miles away. Should you have a plan for this, we'll lock you again so you can see that you will always lose no matter what you try next.” Tony's voice was loud and clear, giving no room to thinking otherwise, that's what he always sounded like.

His confident tone did not manage to afflict Loki's expression, so if he did feel the impact or had a change of emotions, it was unknown to the two watching his every move.

Natasha kept a serious glare at him, one that'd inspire others to shiver until they even dare question the temperature of the room. She waited patiently to see if Loki would snap and try some escapade at any given moment.

He didn't. 

“I always have a plan, Stark. By now, you should know that. It would make our little encounters way simpler.” His velvety voice was surprisingly smooth and showed a contrast to the silence of the room, impacting them with the sophisticated and kept-together tone. Almost managing to make them shiver. 

At least Tony, not Natasha (she didn't seem to be easily intimidated). Or you, the one that's still in the shadows.

“Well, then you can calculate your plan for as long as you'd like, for as many days as it takes, 'cause you're not getting yourself out of this prison. We made sure of it.” Natasha stated, and Tony quickly nodded in response, glancing at Romanoff and having his eyes come back to Loki.

After that, you watched them leave. 

You could sense every moving thing in the huge room, your powers presented to you the incessant—and quite loud— heartbeat that was coming from Loki's chest. Blame it on yourself for being able to detect that but you silently wondered how they didn't notice.

After some more time spent in silence, you could sense Loki's nervousness increasing, it was palpable, and honestly, the atmosphere was becoming kind of pleasant to you, who decided to wait and analyze the way his emotions were changing.

Fear. Although he seemed to not want to demonstrate that, perhaps also afraid someone might be watching through the cameras.

Was nobody really going to come? 

You realized with disdain that maybe his plan involved counting on a third-party. This time he couldn't possibly understand the patterns of the cell beforehand, he also couldn't appeal to the team's distaste for each other, so a fight like the other time wouldn't be able to be induced.

Maybe he thought Thanos would come for him, seeing as he led the army of Chitauri. Maybe he thought he'd be tracked and they'd come for him again, to finish the mission.

You knew this, you knew everything that involved vulnerability. Humans were somehow unique in this matter, but Gods always carried something special within and most of the times it is related to their godlike trait of specialty. 

You get Zeus as an example: the leader of the Gods on Olympus, will always be scared of failure and being inferior, and when found in situations he sees as disrespectful his anger will always be human-like, his punishments will be tainted by an emotional and human anger. 

This is something special about the Gods we can live with, this is what makes them and their stories interesting to humans, the feelings and flaws. Semblance to humanity.

Their flaws are deeper and carry more pain than humans could possibly experience. The God of Mischief, Tricks and Lies carried a long-time pain and years of trauma for being betrayed and lied to. It was interesting to watch life be ironic and to see the flashback coming to life behind their eyes. 

To be frank, you weren't expecting him to depend on someone else to escape, it's supposed to be common nature for him by now. The distrust, the tricks any time, to be wise in the nature of misleading and manipulation. 

But anyhow, you decided to wait and check if any other noise or heartbeat would make a sound in the room.

It didn't, still just Loki. 

So you approached, still covered, protected from view by your shape-shifting shadows. 

The atmosphere was colder than you had expected once you were in front of the cell, your hands touched the armored glass. Invisible now, abandoning your shadows. You didn't know if the cold was coming from him or if they just kept the air that way. Probably both.

Loki was in the middle of the cell now, facing his bed for the night. 

His thoughts kept betraying his facial expressions, being louder than he allowed his face to show, they were a constant mess of scheming and planning different ways out, a bunch of diverse techniques for trickery with the intent of finding his freedom.

Honestly you were getting a bit of a headache, but you realized he clearly didn't know that to do. You could sense his restricted powers moving through his veins.

You touched the glass with your fingertips first, then, with your fingernails, applying a slight pressure to it. Making Loki violently flinch and turn his body back to the entrance expecting to see one of the Avengers there to taunt him. 

He saw nothing and immediately frowned due to that. Then relaxed, noticing there was nobody there and thinking it might have been something else. You wondered if he could sense you or if he thought it was an illusion.

You decided to make use of the fact he still kept his front to the entrance—where you secretly were— and once again slowly scratched the glass he was being kept in.

Loki visibly flinched once again. 

“Fine, I thought it was nothing at first but I can definitely feel someone here now. Who is it? Who's there?!” He asked out loud to the empty room.

You waited in silence, seeing his fear was quite the spectacle. It's humanly cruel to admit but the fear that comes from Gods are a treat to be felt and experienced. To you. 

You were slightly shocked he could feel your presence there, although it did answer the doubt you had before to know if he could feel your presence or not.

You were tempted to scare him further, so mischievously as you decided to be, you closed your hand to a fist and knocked on the glass. Different areas, at the same time.

He looked around dramatically quick, closed his expression after noticing this was possibly a trick. He got back in place and his eyes dared to look forward— frighteningly exactly where you are—, and crossed his arms, presenting a —also—dramatic stance.

“Very funny, really adorable. I don't enjoy playing with witches, especially ones that won't show themselves, I'll let you know. Take off the spell.”

Really? I thought he liked tricks. You guess fear changes people, you could laugh at his scaredy cat behavior some other time. 

You took off the spell and showed your human form to him, making a mental note of how he seemed to gasp when you appeared out of nowhere. You noticed the cell seemed to restrict his powers although it seemed not to erase it completely, which is a capable downfall for the team of humans, they should've checked this before.

You presented yourself in a full black uniform with a long matching cape covering your shoulders, and your hair was kept down and loosen. The most noticeable detail was the metal mask you kept covering your nose and mouth. Allowing him to stare only at your eyes, not being able to see your full face.

“Loki, Loki of Asgard.” Your voice broke the silence, your eyes seemed to shine a little brighter after pronouncing the words.

He stared at you, his eyes questioning and doubtful, multiple questions running through his mind.

“And who are you? One more of the freaks coming to teach me how to behave in midgardian society? How do you know who I am?”

“Let's humbly say that I'm here to…save you,” he couldn't help but laugh at that.

“And what's that supposed to mean? You were in silence just then for a while, you clearly want something from me, and I want to know what it is. And I wish to know who you are, or maybe…who you're probably working for.”

“One of Thanos' children?” he thought, you don't care enough to ask what it means. 

You gave him a strange look he could not decipher.

“I work for no one, only myself. You can think of me as an angel, if you want, or if you need it. But I want to help you. Your powers have drawn me to you.”

“No angel would ever assume they feel drawn to greatness or power, I can only believe you may be a witch,” he eyed you up and down again, you noticed he seemed to do it a lot. Like he was constantly trying to understand things about you.

“No, I'm no witch. But I do admire them,” you let your head down a bit, then stare at him. Allowing your hands to try and reach the glass once again.

His eyes widened even before you managed to complete the touch. He thought you were going to scratch it again.

“No, no, don't do that! Stop scratching the glass!”

“Don't worry, I'm merely touching it this time.” you reached the glass and analyzed it, your hands glowing a black flowing matter, your powers, attempting to understand what it was made of and what could be its weakness. “Someone really doesn't want you to come out, it seems. The cell is reinforced by an invisibility spell that's hiding a layer of Adamantium.” 

“I don't know what that is, but the cell wasn't built for me that's for sure.” 

“It's a special metal, possibly the second strongest metal on Earth. Maybe it was built for you, or maybe not. I could sense your powers from miles away. You're more powerful than you think you are, with more experience you could turn a prison of Adamantium into multiple pieces.” 

He seemed to get angrier at what you said. Immediately scowling at you.

“Are you claiming I'm not experienced with magic? What would you know?! I'm over a thousand years of magic experience, I'm pretty sure I can handle anything by now.”

“Then break the cage yourself.” you simply stated. “Do it then.” 

“I can't, you dim-witted creature. As you can see, my magic is restricted.” He gesticulated to the cell around him, crossed his arms and looked at you.

“I know you carry more power than the supreme sorcerer in person. Again, if you had more faith in yourself mayhaps you'd be able to break it and find your way out on your own.” Your eyes wandered to the ground, making it seem like you didn't even care much, turning around slightly as if to go away. 

“And you…you can break it?” he asked after some seconds, lowering his voice. 

You turned back, looking over the whole glass. Your body leaned a bit backwards with you, showing a bit of drama through your movements. 

Then you placed yourself exactly where you were, and straightened your posture to speak to him.

“Yes, yes I can break it for you. I'll help you.” You decided. He seemed overly suspicious of every movement you made.

Placing your hand on the glass you let yourself feel all the tingly numbness that comes with allowing your powers to overcome, then you feel the glass start shattering under your fingertips. The strength of the material was stronger than anything you were used to physically handle daily.

Surprisingly, Loki's hand started glowing a light green color and his eyes closed as if putting the same effort as you into attempting to break the glass, less than he usually would be able to but still trying. His body got closer to the glass, not actually daring to touch it yet.

Your powers together managed to crack the top of his glass cell, this was when the loud warning noise came along, ringing in your ears and making you flinch. 

Loki grew alarmed and his magic was visibly weakening as the noise took over all the place. Seeing as these were extreme measures, you started putting double the effort to break it faster.

“It would be incredibly great if you could just help me again. It was good before, it was working.” You told him to make him pay attention to you once again. “You shouldn't let your emotions get in the way like that, I can sense your desperation from here, it's distracting!” 

He looked at her in disbelief but he put his hands in front of himself again, his powers grew strongly green and the glass cracked more and more. 

“You talk about desperation but I'm not the one that's raising my voice…” He muttered in the middle of everything.

“If you helped me I wouldn't need to!”

“Didn't you say you could do everything by yourself?” 

“I'm just saying in a matter of hurry to get you out, it would be great to have your powers help me break the second most powerful metal on Earth!”

“You should thank the gods that I-”

“Well I don't! I simply DON'T thank the gods,” you said louder than before. He seemed surprised but quickly recomposed himself. “And stop attempting a threat, should the humans arrive I can let myself out easily. Be more grateful.”

“As if! For all I know you must be a witch planning on kidnapping me… But seeing as being with the midgardian costume-show is worse, I don't mind the entertainment of being kidnapped by a…“ He took a pause to look at you, and you raised an eyebrow at him, slightly tilting your head. “Uh…insane, scary witch.” 

You could feel the heat increase and the announcement that there was an escape plan happening kept ringing loudly into the ears of both you. It would be a matter of time until the Avengers could track you and come back to the room. You both turned your heads to the entrance door that was right behind you, nothing yet.

Loki watched as your eyes seemed to go completely black in an instant, hands were getting shakier both yours and Loki's, then in the blink of an eye, the glass smashed in tiny little pieces. 

Loki put his arms in front of his face due to the impact but you didn't, your hands were still glowing with darkness and gray speckles of light as the magic slowly dissolved. One of the multiple pieces of glass crossed your forehead marking a small bleeding cut, that's when you noticed you probably should have had the reaction to protect your body to the glass. You noticed a few tinier pieces made contact with your mask, making a quiet but obvious sound of ripping steel, only a little, but what a shame.

You didn't want Loki to get too suspicious of you so you didn't make it heal faster, you let it bleed a little and it's close to your left eye. 

You watch it with interest, you quite like blood, you like the reminder you can bleed.

Putting your hand to the light wound and taking a bit of the blood on your skin, you let it taint your fingers a little red.

“We should go then.” You stated as a final decision.

You noticed that the moment the glass was destroyed, Loki's eyes seemed to get a bright blue shade for an instant, they even seemed a bit lost, then they went back to the green-grayish tone. 

“Wait, we could–”

You teleported both of your ways out of there, right before the Avengers arrived. 

★

You realized your plan carried no real structure and it upset you immensely. Now you were stuck in an isolated mossed area with an alien God that appeared to be in deep distress.

“You know this is great, where in the all the Nine even are we?” He looked around at that, checking the varied tree species the place had. And turned to look at you in disbelief.

“Are we still in the United States?!” He questioned loudly once again and started walking straight ahead.

“If there wasn't such pressure on us I could have teleported us somewhere nicer. I couldn't let them be too close,” with that you followed right behind him, managing to keep your footsteps steadier to make it seem as if you know what you're doing.

“If you had waited a little before teleporting us I could have gotten the Tesseract back! If we had the Tesseract I'd manage to find somewhere to hide, very far from here… You didn't let me dictate our plan and now look where we are,”

“The Tesseract?” You asked a bit confused, then you slowly nodded as you just remembered seeing something about that. “The bright blue cube the Avengers carried with them? Is it important?” You were curious now.

“Yes, it is property of Asgard. And it should be with me. They took it from me.” He started going faster and you hurried to match his steps. 

“First of all, why? Second of all,” you paused as you tripped on the rocks. “Ugh. Second of all- I definitely should be the one on the front. Let me lead the way.” 

You certainly didn't appreciate feeling inferior.

You ran a little to go and stay in front of him, turning your back to Loki and proceeding to walk first.

The Asgardian behind you was confused by the suddenness of your actions, and stomped his foot seemingly taking your choice as insolence.

“Where are we?! What the Hel is going on?!” 

“I told you I was going to save you. I did, I took you out of that god forsaken cell, I freed you.”

“Freedom would be a solid belief if I could be by myself right now.” 

“Hey. I have been nothing but nice,” you don't know why you were defensive. “And you have yet to mention why the Tesseract should be with you. I said I can do anything, if you convince me, maybe I can bring it to you,” you said firmly and stared right at him.

That made him pause his steps for a while, you were almost near a tunnel. You paused as well.

He blinked, and looked at you before speaking.

“It's the space stone, a stone that allows you to teleport anywhere you want at any given moment. It controls space in time, and I was using it to my benefit for my plans.”

You looked down to the floor deep in thought with that. Keeping quiet for a little.

“You don't need that, you have me.”

He stared at you quietly too, you almost didn't notice how his eyes shined a little greener after your words, looking… lively, or honest.

 “You'd…move us whenever we needed?”

“Yes, of course,” you exclaimed bubbly.

Everything seemed warmer to you, noticing the Tesseract wasn't going to ruin your plans if you lacked it, your powers are useful enough for that. 

He looked at you oddly, then kept walking. Indicating with his hands that you should walk as well, silently not caring anymore if you're first. 

“I wish you would tell me who you are. The only thing I can see other than your eyes is the mask.”

“You wish for me to take off the mask?” You smiled sardonically. “Are you this curious?”

“You did call yourself an angel,” he began. Your eyes turned slightly darker at the mention, but you were looking at the floor, you kept smiling under the mask.

“I did, yes. I am one, somehow,” you lied. 

You know he can see through your lies, he chose not to comment.

The tunnel was right in front of you two now, you both kept walking. It brought nothing but humid ground with water puddles that kept announcing you in the dark, sometime or another you could hear the small noise of a bug.

Overall, it was quite cold. You thought the cold in the cell had been due to keeping the atmosphere that way, but Loki's presence felt as cold as the air around you, literally.

“Are you cold?” You asked. 

“Hm?” He was distracted analyzing his whereabouts. “No, why? Is it cold? I didn't notice.”

You hummed, you were kind of sensitive to the cold so you weren't sure if you were the one on the wrong. Maybe it was just the tunnel.

Either way, you opened your hands spreading all your fingers, absorbing as much warmth as the place could have.

You noticed Loki's fingertips growing immediately the green it gets when he uses his powers, and…oh.

He conjured you a blanket. A dark green one, that looked very soft.

“I'm a gentleman, I can't let you go cold.” he looked at you and waited for you to take it.

Still, you kept your hands growing warmer and warmer, you got both of them together and huddled a tiny speckle of… fire.

You were satisfied with that, but made it a bit bigger. Now you carried a small flame in the air among your fingers, and your entire hands were glowing red. You felt warm enough, the pyrokinesis required the warmth of your entire body. 

You didn't notice Loki's admiration right beside you, his eyes sparkling with the movements of your fingers through the air.

“You can control fire? Impressive,” he said in awe. 

“It's nothing,” your cheeks felt just as warm as your hands, you supposed you could blame it on the pyrokinesis effect. “You can still give me the blanket, put it around me or something,” you moved your shoulders trying to demonstrate.

So he did, he placed it around your shoulders. It wasn't exactly long, good because it wouldn't touch the dirty ground. Or come close to it.

As you two walked the rest of the tunnel, now feeling less cold than before, a green light flowed by your side again. Loki's hand grew a green light to help us see the dark way in front of us, the fire helped already but it's nice that he thought to add to it.

You just assumed he liked feeling useful as much as you.

Maybe you were a creature cursed to desiring greatness for eternity, however, his powers did draw you to him even further. Your eyes brighten as you look at the green surrounding his fingertips. 

He looks at you curiously, eyes changing from his hands to your face back and forth.

Both of you don't say anything. 

★

The 'Avengers' as they have recently been named, decided the world was under a giant threat again seeing as Loki had not only escaped but he did so with the help of an unknown person.

This opened possibilities for a thousand different theories. Maybe the God of Mischief had fans, but it'd be really quick enough for them to plan and manage to save him?

Plus, they knew the 'person' was powerful when checking the cameras, seeing the woman appear out of nowhere, and seeing they teleported together. At first they thought Loki was the responsible one for that, but what if he wasn't? It mainly worried them the fact that humans —if it was what saved him— do not simply have superpowers like that.

It became a S.H.I.E.L.D case the second they discovered.

“What if he has more aliens he brainwashed?” Clint asked at the table. “I don't wanna deal with these aliens any more for today, I've had enough.”

“Considering the fact you were just brainwashed by the guy, I can give you that,” Natasha answered, putting a hand on his shoulder. She looked at him more caringly afterwards when the others weren't paying attention to them. Saying quietly: “Are you okay? Don't you think it's better if you rest for now?”

“I'll have enough time to rest after we get that serial killer slash crazy alien back to the cells. Or better yet, out of this planet.” With that, he looked at the other teammates.

Tony was checking the securities and zooming in on the screens, recording to save every detail of the presented outfit, mask, all the angles of this person, anything he could get.

Thor was relentless, demanding to know any information the humans could grant him with. He didn't understand how it wasn't quicker to locate him.

For him it seemed more like a family missing thing than a mass murderer villain missing, they guessed that after all, Loki was still his brother and Thor still had such a big heart.

“If this being is more powerful than my brother is, I don't think we'll find them in these…” Thor turned and gesticulated to the cameras Stark was studying the scenes from. “What are these again?” He mumbled in a hurry, just wanting to get his point across.

“Cameras.” Steve replied.

“Cameras! Of course,” Thor said again making a dramatic case with his booming voice, “I need to check in Asgard to see if he's not there, maybe the Asgardians even know something…I don't know, I'm not sure.” He kept looking around nervously, and picking on his hands as he spoke.

“Thor, relax. We're going to find him, it's our main mission to get a hold of this freak.” Bruce replied now. “If there's one thing about our group of very strange individuals is that we don't like to fail, we're too arrogant for that.”

“Speak for yourself, I'm far from arrogant.” Tony replied clicking on another screen and bringing it closer to him, the technology making the images clearer.

Steve tries to hide a snort, and Natasha can't help but actually laugh. “Come on now, it's not time for jokes.”

“Yeah, don't make us laugh,” she says.

“Is this amusing to you, Steve?” Tony said. Looking away from the screen. “If you think I'm too arrogant-”

“I have no time for this.” Thor turned around, picking Mjolnir with extreme ease and turning it in the air. “I'll be out for a while. If you find news about my brother don't forget to look up to the sky and scream very loudly the name 'HEIMDALL', please.” He made sure to give a quiet scream to interpretate them screaming to Heimdall.

“And who's that Heimdall guy again?” Clint asked.

“The man that sees it all. The guardian of Asgard. I asked him for news regarding Loki's location, but he seems to find absolutely nothing, it's unbelievable. He said there's strong magic protecting his surroundings, or him in itself.”

“If Loki is on Asgard, make sure to send us a letter or a text message to warn us and proceed be sure to keep him there, forever, no need to bring him back.” Tony said dismissively. “We've got enough trouble as it is.”

“Well, now you're just being rude. I bet Loki didn't mean any real harm with his actions. He wasn't like that before.” Thor replied once again, and then turned to the exit to go outside. “Again, if you find anything of him, make sure to yell to the sky!”

The moment Thor left and they saw the rainbow appear through the window and make quite a loud opening, Natasha looked at them and said:

“So who's going to be the one to take the role of insane and yell at the sky?” She asked with a smile.

“Hopefully no one, his brother might be having a blast with Asgardians chicks in a pool, if they have those there. And everything will go back to normal, we'll have no need to worry,” Tony said.

“Just because that's what you'd been doing if you escaped prison doesn't mean that that's what Loki's doing right now.” Steve argued.

“Who let the popsicle speak again? I don't know about you, but other people are familiar with the concept of having sex-”

“Is this conversation really necessary, Tony?” Steve argued back.

“Well, hopefully Tony's right about not needing to worry and-”

Mary Hill entered the room before Bruce could finish the sentence, “Am I interrupting? I apologize, I hate to be the bringer of bad news…actually, no, I'm alright with that.” She said menancingly. After that, she put a laptop on the table they were meeting at.

Also, putting next to it a bunch of information resources, such as multiple other tablets and laptops containing images that are some blurry and others in perfect quality. One of them even contained an image of a woman, seemingly an ID, but they weren't sure.

“Fury was in contact with other agents that could know anything about the characteristics the unknown person had. They studied the height, the weight, the length of their hair, and other things. We tried to study the precise gender this person has but aren't so sure, so we call it Being, they weren't even sure it's human. Still, they checked the powers, the speed in which the glass was broken, everything they could through the images. Changed the angles and studied for news about it, checking specifically also the mask she wore.”

While she narrated every step of the professionals she opened one of the screens and displayed it to another device to share Fury's screen. That's when he began to talk to them, to tell the story through his side as well.

“The creature, we were looking first for witches or any enhanced human beings such as other possible soldiers like Rogers. We were both relieved and worried to see it wasn't the case, our work couldn't be granted with much, but what we found of it should be enough for now to know what we're working with.”

Hill presented a specific image on screen, one that seemed like the one on the ID, the 'woman' had her eyes wide open seeing as she had to look directly at the camera for the important exam.

The image was black and white, of course. But she had her eyes completely empty, the document was inked with white the part where her eyes should be.

“They checked for occurrences and similar characteristics on other people surrounding the same places. What we found complicated is that the situations in which people disappeared like that and appeared out of nowhere were brought up by different people in different parts of the world.” The images kept moving to present women, men and children, not much, probably just up to eight identities that they could collect from around the whole world. “But what's most interesting is that, none of these people actually exist.”

Fury stated and caused the silence of the room to grow instantly tense. They immediately found that frightening.

“Has Loki really been planning the attack on New York for that long? This must be related to him somehow. When, how-” Clint began and was interrupted by Fury again.

“These people would appear on a certain day and disappear at any moment. It was uncertain, it has no pattern, we're in doubt of our process because we can't seem to be sure just one person could be responsible for this. And we're unsure of Loki's relation to this being, at least any relation before today.”

The pictures presented could vary from news where there would be people morphing out of shadows or coming out of something slimy to become human. They weren't sure these things were related to one another but they carried similarities with the pattern of power presented in the cell earlier.

There were videos of men, women, even animals, morphing into something else. And mainly all of them had to be related to the shadows one time or another, that's all they had, they had to stick to it.

“We believe we're dealing with a shapeshifter, and even worse… We believe it's a demon.”

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

The Things We Do For Love- Part 3

Part 2

Hero began to stir, cocooned in something warm and soft. They opened their eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. They bolted upright in a large, plush bed, the memories flooding back. They were in a large, luxurious bedroom, but something was off about it. Hero got out of bed and went to the window. Bulletproof glass, with bars over-top. Hero crossed the room to the door next. Locked, of course. Hero charged their power and rammed it into the door. Hero shouted and ducked as their energy ricocheted off the door and all over the room. The whole place was fortified with some kind of powerful alloy. Hero went to try again when the door opened.

“Good morning, Hero,” Supervillain said with a grin.

Hero scowled, trying to push past Supervillain and make a run for it. Supervillain easily caught them, stopping them in their tracks.

“Still trying to escape me I see,” Supervillain mused, “you must be a slow learner.”

Hero struggled in Supervillain’s grip, but they were no match for their enhanced strength.

“Let me go!” Hero shouted.

Supervillain chuckled.

“Calm yourself, now,” Supervillain said, “you’re not leaving this place. You’re lucky I haven’t killed you.”

“Why haven’t you?” Hero demanded, “you just want to prolong my suffering or something!?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Supervillain remarked, “I’m simply honoring a request.”

As Supervillain spoke, they manhandled Hero back into the room, sitting them down on the bed.

“Villain went to great lengths to ensure your safety,” Supervillain said, “I was surprised to get their call. You’ve made them go soft, little Hero.”

Hero stared, their mouth agape.

“What?”

“Oh, still slow I see. Yes, Villain is the reason you haven’t passed away- by my hand or via your so-called superweapon. They called me in quite a frenzy asking me to save you, in exchange for their services.”

“You’re lying!” Hero said, “Villain wouldn’t do that!”

“Have you forgotten the fundamentals of heroism and villainy? You heroes will sacrifice your love to save the world, but Villain? Villain would watch the world burn if it meant you’d be warm.”

Supervillain crossed the room to the doorway.

“I’ll send them in, they’re anxious to see you,” they said, closing the door behind them, leaving Hero alone with a racing mind and brimming tears.

Part 4

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