#almost claustrophobic like my room is already small but i just keep getting more shit and nowhere to put it

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 36 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

"Where's Dane?"

"He was right behind us," Freya says, worry edging her tone.

"Had to give Erickson a shove. Fool panicked when he saw that smaller tunnel."

"I didn't think I'd fit," Erickson snaps.

"I thought I'd get stuck in the damn thing."

"Stuck in the..."

Horror floods my gut.

The tunnel had been claustrophobically small but I'd had enough room to wriggle through with little trouble.

I'm a slender guy, though.

Erickson's slightly bigger than me but Dane...

"Oh, shit. He's stuck."

With fear seizing my throat, I take a gulp of air and dive beneath the surface again, hoping against hope that I can still find the entrance to the tunnel and that I'm not too late.

A few meters down I find the bottom and shine my flashlight over the rough gravel and stone.

Through my blurry vision, I can hardly see more than vague shapes and shadows but by a stroke of luck the entrance is obvious.

Like a drain in a sink, it's a black circle gaping at the bottom of the pool.

I balk at the sight of it but my fear can't be anything compared to what Dane must be feeling... if he's even still conscious.

Entering the tunnel head first, I swim down at a steep angle.

About two meters in, the tunnel flattens out to the bottom of the u-shape we'd come through.

The narrowest part of the tunnel was right at the bottom of this and that's where I spot Dane.

He's wedged fast, one arm forward and one pinned back.

He's still struggling and looks up at my light as I approach.

Agony twists his face and streaks of blood discolor the water where he'd already scraped himself raw in his desperation to get free.

I reach for his hand and grab hold, trying to pull him loose but I have no leverage and he doesn't budge an inch.

Upside down, with my legs in the tunnel behind me, I have nothing to push or pull against and merely tug ineffectively at his hand.

He knows it's no use and as our eyes meet through our blurry underwater vision, the look on his face changes.

Agony gives way to an almost peaceful calm and he stops struggling.

His lips form my name and then he releases his breath.

The bubbles escape in a cloud, sticking to the tunnel's roof as they skitter away in little silvery globs of spent life.

Dane's grip loses its strength, his body goes limp and his dread-locks float free around his face.

I scream and my own breath escapes to join his as I tug on his arm in a futile effort to free him.

My lungs burn but the pain in my chest is more than physical.

It feels as if my heart is being crushed and torn apart within the cage of my ribs.

The primal instinct to survive is telling me to let him go and swim for the surface but I can't... I won't leave him.

Shutting my eyes, I feel the sort of peace I'd seen on Dane's face spread through me and my fear and pain dissolve.

If this is where we end, we'll end together.

Just as the darkness closes in on my mind, something else closes on my ankle with a startlingly strong grip.

My eyes snap open and I just have time to clamp my hand around Dane's wrist before I'm yanked violently from behind.

My grip on Dane slips but I refuse to let go.

Another sharp tug and another and then, with one final yank, I feel his shoulder dislocate and he comes free.

With the need for air searing my lungs like white hot fire, we're dragged from the tunnel and into the open water of the pool.

I can just make out Freya's form, gesturing at me to let go and swim for the surface.

As she takes hold of Dane, I successfully command my oxygen-starved brain to obey.

Breaking into the air once more, I cough and gasp, floundering as the last of my strength fails me.

A hand grips the collar of my shirt and flips me over to lie on my back, keeping my head above water and through the fog of confusion clouding my brain, I see Erickson dragging me to shore.

Meanwhile, Freya hauls Dane onto the stony bank and begins CPR.

Pinching his nose shut, she breathes air into his lungs, then compresses his sternum rhythmically on a count to five.

She repeats this and repeats it again, all the while swearing at him under her breath.

"Don't you go dying on me now, you son of a bitch," she hisses.

"Breathe, damn it."

By the fifth round of this, my breathless gasps have turned to sobs of despair and the beginnings of a black hole open in my heart.

Then, just as I'm about to fall into it, Dane seizes, vomits water, and draws a deep, ragged breath.

"Oh, thank fuck," Freya swears, sagging with relief and rubs Dane's chest as he coughs.

She rolls him to the side, thumping a hand on his back to clear the last remnants of liquid from his lungs and then helps him to sit up, mindful of his dislocated shoulder and the places where he'd scraped himself raw.

Much less carefully, I throw myself into his arms and hold on tight, wracked by shivers and shaking with sobs.

Gradually, I become aware that Dane's rough coughs have subsided and that instead he mumbles reassurances as he holds me with his good arm.

I lift myself to look at him.

"You okay?" he whispers.

I choke on a laugh and drink in the sight of him... his amber eyes, the dark lashes clumped with water, the hard line of his jaw and the softness of his lips.

"I am if you are."

"I will be, thanks to you. You saved my life, Julian."

"Actually, Freya saved both of us," I point out weakly and he smiles.

"Yeah but you came back for me."

"You know I'll always come for you," I whisper through a watery smile and then the tears win again as our mouths meet in a rough, desperate kiss.

I cling to him... to his warmth and scent and strength... to everything that, for a nightmare moment, I thought I had lost.

"Okay, okay," Freya says, intervening gently.

"Y'all need oxygen, remember? And I need to get that shoulder back in place before it heals wrong."

Dane continues to kiss me for a few moments longer, anyway, his lips brushing mine with a caress and a soft exchange of breath, both of us needing the contact and reassurance almost as much as we need air.

Finally, he draws back with a sigh and a wince of pain.

Beckoning to Freya, he taps his dislocated shoulder.

"All right. Make it quick."

She rolls her eyes.

"You know I will. Erickson, gimme your belt."

Erickson frowns.

"Why?"

"Cuz mine's Italian leather and yours looks cheap, and because I said so," she snaps.

Scowling, he obeys.

She folds the belt in half and holds it towards Dane's mouth.

"Bite down."

He shakes his head, grimacing at the belt.

"Just do it," Freya huffs.

"If you'd all stop being difficult we could get this over with. Now open your damn mouth."

She might not be an Alpha but she gets results like one.

Dane opens his mouth and she places the belt between his teeth.

He bites down, features twisting with disgust, while Freya grasps his arm and braces her foot against his chest.

"Okay, on three. Ready?"

He nods.

"One."

With a sharp, twisting motion, she pulls hard, popping his shoulder joint back into place.

Dane's muffled groan of pain contains a sound that any lesser man 'myself included' would have released as a scream.

Breathing hard, he spits out Ericsson's belt and tosses it back to him.

Dane's canine teeth have lengthened noticeably and Erickson examines the new set of holes in the leather with wide eyes but threads it back through his belt loops without complaint.

As Freya moves aside, I stroke Dane's damp brow as he lets his head drop back and shuts his eyes.

"Any better?" I ask.

"Hmm... hurts less already," he mumbles.

"Muscle and ligaments heal fast," Freya says, watching with her hands on her hips.

"And Dane's the fastest healer I know."

"I thought I lost you," I whisper, pushing a sodden loc away from his face.

He opens a bloodshot eye a crack and looks at me.

"I thought so, too, for a minute."

My breath catches.

"I'm sorry, Dane. You were right. This was a crazy idea, and way too dangerous. I should have listened to you."

"Nah," he coughs, clearing some lingering liquid from his lungs and squeezes the back of my neck.

"If I was right about anything, it was letting you take the lead. If I'd insisted on going first, I'd have taken the wrong tunnel or got stuck and blocked the way. Either way we'd all be dead."

I search his eyes.

"When I passed out after the reading... I know how you felt, now. Don't do that again, okay?"

He laughs and then coughs.

"Hey, that's my line. But if you won't, I won't. Deal?"

"Deal," I say.

"As happy as I am that we're all alive," Freya says,

"I don't think we should hang around celebrating much longer. How about it, Juju? Anything look familiar?"

[dirt-grub]

Oh boy... today I clean my room...... pray for me y’all the Garbage just might consume me

[creativefiend19]

A Pynch ‘first time’ fic list

For the Anon who asked for it * clears throat * a whole year ago on Valentine’s Day. 

First times - of various sorts - necessarily mean M or E rated fics, so I’m not specifying for each.

Everything’s 2020 or earlier, and mostly one (or sometimes two) shots, in no particular order after the cut (as always feel free to add your recs).

*

sun came out of nowhere like a bar fight by liquidsky

“Christ, Adam, fucking do something already,” Ronan says, a clear attempt at getting rid of any discomfort.

Adam grins, “Eager, are we?”

*

Feels Like the First Time by FalseCamaro (Gandalfgirl579)

"Never done this before." Ronan glances up, catching Adam's eyes when he asks, "You?"

"Only with girls." When Ronan makes a particularly unflattering gagging noise, Adam rolls his eyes, though he can do nothing to fight back his smile.

*

the place to lose your fears by gaewaren (shadowhunterxhunter)

Gansey's voice was low and soothing. "Is he pressuring you?"

"Holy shit, Gansey." Ronan's face was in his hands and he was seconds away from punching the two-hundred dollar custom made coffee table.

"I'm being serious!"

"And I'm going to dropkick you!"

*

caught up in your heartstrings by softambrollins

In which Ronan is very distracting, Gansey is an oblivious idiot, and Adam is not freaking out at all. (Bonus: Blue abiding no bullshit and Noah being all-knowing.)

*

Expansion by gonergone

The thing was, Ronan had never actually thought that the thing with Adam was an actual thing. Missing scenes around the events of the third book.

*

You Will Always Be Enough by Becky_J_1022

Ronan can't dream and can't stay in the apartment, and Gansey sends Adam along with him to keep him out of trouble. Adam does not do a very good job.

Alternate summary: Ronan yells at Adam, Adam yells at Ronan, and Adam decides the best way to resolve this is to kiss Ronan. There are feelings and they spill everywhere. The Barns is involved.

*

from when I wake the want is by solitarydreaming

Adam doesn't want to talk about sex, so it looks like they'll never be having any.

*

Declarations by Again_n_Again

Adam and Ronan have just started "dating" ...is that what they're doing? They kiss a lot, but that's all. Ronan makes a declaration, and Adam does't know how to respond right away. He knows he doesn't want to ruin this new and fragile thing between them, but is he ready to jump in fully?

*

a little more touch my body by softambrollins

The room feels too small, almost claustrophobic, but Ronan makes every room feel like that. He's always painfully, viscerally aware of him, his body, every single movement and gesture and subtle shift in expression, even when he's not touching him or looking at him like that or about to take all his clothes off.

*

and baby when you kiss me there's nothing else by fanscribbles

Honestly, they don't mean to get off in Gansey's car. Alas, that is what happens.

*

Hold On to Me as We Go by basicallymonsters

It’s like they’re enjoying some fantastic beginners luck, but they don’t actually know how the game is played...

Revised relationships come from the settling dust of unmaking, and Ronan and Adam try to find a balance between grief and joy, love and sex, friendship and occasional hand kissing. They navigate first times and promises and a feeling like magic - even when they're forest-less and wide awake.

(Pre-epilogue)

*

as we fall we sing by asael

Adam wants more, he’s only beginning to understand this aching hunger inside him for someone who will be willing to touch him, will want to touch him, will reach out when he doesn’t quite know what to do.

*

Honey & Caramel by Pigzxo

Adam & Ronan's first time.

*

say my name and i'll lie in the sound by oftirnanog

It’s almost too much, Ronan splayed out in front of him, all hard lines and sharp angles, his fingers trailing up and down Adam’s ribs like he’s something to be treated with care, not fragile, but deserving of softness.

Or the first time Ronan and Adam have anal sex. That's it. It's just smut. Fluff and smut and awkward boys with awkward feelings. Adam POV.

*

[cheesus-doodles]

The Flag We Serve Under: Chapter 1 (Rewrite)

Yandere Azur Lane

Masterlist

‎

cw: female pronouns, workplace harrassment

Finally a rewrite i can like :) for my azur lane fams out there, hope yall enjoy! chapter 2 shouldn't be too far off! also if you see this, come join my discord! would love to have more people to rant with about azur lane :D

‎

“How could you make such a basic mistake?!” Despite your attempts to steal your nerves against what you knew was coming since you had been recalled, the ear-ringing bang as your commanding officer slammed both open palms into his abused, groaning table had you jump a few inches. “You stupid bitch, I’ve already told you a million times! It’s form number 48B not 84B! Do you want to get me in trouble?!”

If there was a hell on this mortal plane, you were sure without a doubt that it would right here; in this dark, dingy, suffocating concrete coffin your superior called an office. You didn’t believe in gods - how could you, having spent most of your earlier life cowering in fear of these higher beings humanity called Sirens that once terrorized the seas - but if there were any supposed divine beings out there, they sure as hell didn’t give two shits about you.

You didn’t need to bite back the ‘yes’ that would have been already leaping off the tongue of any braver soul, your voice instead hitching in the back of your throat like a wad of gum you couldn’t spit out. “I- I-”

“Shut up!” The stack of forms was all but hurled at you, and it would have smacked you in the face if you had not dodged in time, though the edge of the binder still clipped the side of your head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses!”

It felt like hours, not the minutes since you had been summoned back to this dreaded room, being entombed in this place, the clock ticking uncaringly on even as the older man heaved in anger and exertion, pausing in his rant for the umpteenth time to catch his breath. With safety being such a top priority at the Azur Lane headquarters, there was no telling if it was day or night - windows did present more security risk to the head honchos of this circus, yet it only made the gloomy atmosphere feel more depressing. 

Enough. You've had enough, you wearily thought. Maybe it was really time to call it a day and lay down the coat; your mind wandering to all the possibilities should you ever manage to muster the courage to call it quits. Perhaps you would set up a small bakery or cafe, and spend your days among the happy, comforting smell of pastries in the oven. The rest of your captain’s furious words washed over you like waves lapping up against the hull of a ship, with just the occasional one strong enough to cut through your daydreams. “…stupid, incompetent…ships are slacking-”

Those few words were enough to pull you straight back to reality and stir the last bit of indignation you still had left in you. Sure there was not much you could do to stop him from insulting you as much as he liked, but to pull your subordinates into this as well? As if they weren’t the ones bearing the full brunt of keeping humanity safe, as if they weren’t already putting in their best? 

You straightened. That was a line too far. Yet as if history was repeating itself, before you could gather whatever your self-respect and dignity that still clung on like a dying petal, you were unceremoniously dismissed with a wave of your officer’s hand. “The next time you are called in here, it’ll be to turn over your badge.”

Defeated, your exhausted form instantly deflated, the determination leaving you like an exhale of hot air, and you turned to shuffle out of the claustrophobic room, the angry mutters about useless women in uniform following you as you closed the thick, steel door with nay a click. His last words that drifted out after you - almost resentful mumbles about how humanity was supposed to simply entrust the safety of the world to commanders like you - was especially stinging.

Maybe that parting threat was more of a sign; you were never made for a job like this. You should have taken up that offer.

The atmosphere of the equally miserable corridor outside was thankfully a one-eighty, the narrow enclosed alley bustling with Azur Lane staff of every rank and job making their way to destinations unknown in a graceful two-way flow of people. At least there with the hum and drum that came with such a crowd, those harsh words would have been lost in the chatter; you didn’t need to worry about any pitying eyes or fake sympathy thrown in your direction. You allowed yourself to be drifted along by the rest, only pausing for a brief moment in an empty enclave to wipe harshly at your eyes with the sleeve of your uniform, harshly willing away the tears that threatened to well - you did try your best, you told yourself, even if it didn’t always show. Giving your all for a job you never wanted, pouring your heart and soul into this thankless job for naught, yet all you received was another scolding, another threat to tear away everything you worked so hard for. Or maybe on second thought, just hold back the floodgates for a few more minutes. A few more minutes till you could get somewhere more private.

Stepping out into the harsh light of the afternoon sun, you winced at the sudden change in brightness that blinded your sensitive eyes, though the lack of warmth that the height of the day usually brought was especially notable, the ocean breeze whipping in over open water somehow making the already cold day seem colder. What a horrible day it had been.

“Commander~”

You didn’t stop for the familiar voice calling out, your hastily thrown up walls caving as soon as the fresh air filled your lungs - hot tears that you could no longer suppress stinging at reddening eyes as they burned a trail down your cheeks. Your walking pace only increased, pristinely polished boots trudging across grass and mud without a care as you strided towards the docks as quickly as your legs could carry you. But alas, even the half-run wasn’t fast enough.

One yank, and you toppled backwards into that pair of tan arms that you had grown accustomed to. “Com-man-der.” And you would have had a one way trip to kiss the ground if not for the lean yet muscular body that blocked your way, long white hair tied up into two messy ponytails flopping down into your view as a face leaned over to cast a shadow over yours. Half-lidded ruby eyes meant yours in a curious lilt. “Why are you trying to run from me? Come, lie down with me on the grass for a bit.” 

Damn. There went your hope of escaping back to Base Command with one of your fleet’s less nosy ships (where you could have a good cry in private even) - you could see Indianapolis had her ship manifested and ready to sail. But the guilt had already begun to seep into the base of your gut even before that thought had finished crossing your mind: Alabama wasn’t being nosy. She was just showing concern, like you did for all those under your command.

“Thank you, Alabama, but I need to start heading back to base. Work calls.” Forcing a painful grimace on your face that you hoped could pass as a smile, you knew that despite the fact that you could barely hold your gaze to hers for longer than a mere second, there was no doubt that the other didn’t - couldn’t - miss your bloodshot eyes and nose, or the tear tracks down your cheeks that glistened ever so gently in the sunlight.

Alabama frowned, her usual tired red eyes instantly sharpening as she carefully studied your face, but you were thankful when she didn’t bring up your crestfallen expression. One strong hand slipped around your arm, and you were being tugged in the direction of the dock, the hustle and bustle of the crowd fading into the rustle of wind and leaves as the two of you made your way to the sea. And amidst the small fleet of ships you recognise as the one you commanded, the tower of her own manifested ship peeked out from where it had been previously hidden behind a horizon of trees.

“Sail with me,” came her simple request. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny her, not Alabama who had been there with you, for you, from the start; not the first ship you ever had the opportunity and honor to have under your command. The request of a friend. 

Allowing her to pull you up the gangplank, stepping back onto the worn wooden deck once more was a dose of nostalgia: the wooden deck roughened at the edges by the cruel seas and bleached by the uncaring sun, the creak and groan of metal under your feet, the gentle lapping of waves many meters below. It was almost exactly as you had remembered on that fateful day Alabama first joined your fleet and had taken you out into the infinite frontier that was the vast ocean, only to be hit with another round of nostalgia when Alabama led you down familiar steel corridors towards what you knew was the small makeshift office you once called your second home. You rarely had time to sail anymore with the growing workload and the rumors of deteriorating relations within Azur Lane - and there was nothing more you missed than this.

The thick steel door swung open at the lightest touch to reveal an entirely unchanged room. “I can’t believe you kept all this junk,” you chuckled, finger tracing the worn surface of the simple desk tucked away neatly in the corner where it always had been. 

“It’s not junk,” she insisted back. It was obvious that Alabama had been keeping this place straightened and tidied even in your time away, with not a speck of dust to be found even on the panes of the window that your desk faced, the carpet as plush and fresh as the first day you stepped onboard.

Turning to face the tanned girl waiting patiently by the door as you reminisced about better days, you stretched out your hand to accept your briefcase which had been up till now swinging lazily from her hand. You didn’t even remember handing that brown leather bag over. “Thank you, Alabama,” you repeated, though your voice was barely a whisper.

A nod, Alabama pulling you into a hug, soft and warm. “Make sure you come to my room tonight to cuddle. I can’t sleep otherwise.”

A laugh, the first of the day - cheery and free - slipped your lips, your sea legs keeping you steady as the ship under you lurched, pulling away from port towards the infinite blue ocean that met equally clear skies far out at the horizon. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The door shut quietly behind Alabama as you retrieved your belongings from your bag, sorting out the various paperwork into separate stacks before dropping into a cushioned chair. It was too late for you to turn back now, no matter how tough the job becomes; looking back, you probably should have never applied for that stupid position to begin with. A tinge of regret at the loss of an optimism from your now weary eyes that you’ve misplaced along the way - how could you have known that a paper-pusher position promising a comfortable life would have turned into this? But you don’t think you would have changed your decision if you ever turned back the clock. 

And you did love the open sea so very much.

‎

‎

The light thuds of boots against wooden decking broke the tranquil sound of waves breaking, luring Alabama out from her thoughts and musing. The sun had long given way to the star-filled night sky, the never-ending twinkling celestial map that had once guided navigators home, though getting lost was the least of the battleship girl’s worries. 

Being part of a small fleet made it easy to identify the others by just the weight of their gait, and as expected, Baltimore’s voice cut through the quiet night air. “No threats in the vicinity, Alabama. Helena’s taking the next watch.” Reaching where the white-haired girl looked out over the endless sea, Baltimore leaned back against the rail guards, short brown hair tossed every which way in the harsh wind that whipped across the deck, her riggings parting out of the way smoothly despite them being as long as she is tall. 

A pause, before the tomboyish heavy cruiser spoke again almost hesitantly. “Commander’s office lights are still on. It’s getting late.”

Ruby eyes met yellow ones. “He made her cry.”

All Baltimore replied with was a word weary sigh, throwing her head back into the sharp ocean breeze. 

“I know that look,” Alabama’s tone was flat, emotionless. “She was thinking of leaving, again.”

It was common knowledge among the tight knit ring of girls that made up your fleet the mental and emotional thrashing you took every time you were summoned to the Azur Lane Headquarters. Despite the higher ups knowing that you were one of the rare few who was able to connect with girls like them on a level no one else could, that could see past their riggings and their weapons and their sole purpose to fight Sirens for the humanity they carried within. Despite being the only thing standing between humanity’s future and ruin.

The flash of anger subsided back into tired, half-lidded eyes as quickly as it appeared, Alabama’s unusually quiet voice - just barely audible over the sound of waves crashing against the hull of her ship if not for the wind that whipped her resolution over - was unnerving to say the least. “I’ll kill him.” And that was a promise, not a threat.

It was rare to see the youngest of the South Dakota sisters flare her temper in the slightest, but Baltimore knew better to question the other’s protectiveness over you; not that she wouldn’t brutally maim in your name. But she still clearly remembered that incident where one of the staff had not only loudly slighted you in Alabama’s presence, but leered about your ass. The result was far from pretty, what with the shipgirls’ inhuman strength - Baltimore wondered if that poor soul ever learnt to walk again. 

“And I’ll help,” Baltimore quipped, earning herself a small smirk before the joking tone turned serious once more. “But she will need a larger fleet first.”

Indeed - you needed enough ships on your side first before they could make a move. Ships who were willing to stand up for you, to protect you at all costs, to massacre and cut down any who dared to lay a finger, nay a dirty breath, on you. The ship underneath their feet seemed to groaned in agreement, the massive artillery guns overhead almost shivering in anticipation of the spilling of blood. The two finally turned to make their way back towards your office, their blue and white jackets flapping in the turbulent winds of an incoming storm. “I’ll still be the first she oaths.”

That was a confident statement, Baltimore mused. “Goes without saying, Alabama.”

One day all those bastards would get the slow, torturous hell they deserve at the end of her scythe and canons, Alabama thought. But for now, as the steel door swung open once more to reveal you - head now tucked neatly into the crook of your elbow fast sleep among your piles of papers, rumpled uniform lifted to show more skin that you usually care to - for now, she had to take care of you.

After all, a world without you wasn’t one worth living in.

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

[forlornmelody]

Resurrection Day

Rating: M (just a lot of angst, really. Character death, some graphic violence, and an afterglow moment)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Jayrose, RedArse, 

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:   The Outlaws have always had a funny relationship with death, but when one of their own dies, they try to rise from their mistakes.

Note:  Idk if this is a fic, or more my headcanons strung together. Enjoy? 

-*-*

“Do you ever regret it?” 

Jason only half-hears her, his eyelids heavy, and his body so relaxed with release that he might never move again. “Mm?” he mumbles, pulling his body through quicksand so he can lay on his side and face her. 

Rose’s skin still glistens in the evening light, her hair mussed, and her face flushed. Her voice still throaty from moaning and screaming that Jason’s too busy reliving those last straining moments he almost doesn’t hear her again. “Do you ever regret...coming back?”

Pushing himself onto his elbows, Jason gazes down at her with a crooked grin. “To Gotham? Only when Bruce breathes down my neck.”

Snorting, Rose stretches one arm above her head, and her chest rises towards him in a way that makes him suck in his breath. Focus. She won’t meet his eyes, and her lips keep forming words she doesn't speak. “No, I mean. Do you regret being brought back?” The warmth in Jason’s belly turns to ice. 

It’s all too easy to remember that god-awful laugh, and the red haze in his vision, and the blood in his eyes. The searing pain of each blow, and the ache every time he tries to breathe. The numbness that settles in when he reaches the door and finds it locked--when he hears the egg timer on Joker’s signature bomb. 

Remembering what came after is harder. Running out of air. So much water, but it’s thicker than water, and he can’t get to the surface fast enough. Screaming. So much screaming. Is he screaming? Everyone’s trying to kill him. He can’t get out. He can’t get out. He can’t.

“Jason?” Rose only says his name when she’s worried. She squeezes his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin until his vision clears. “Shit. Sorry.” Sighing in frustration, she looks away. “Didn’t mean to bring all that back.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Jason tries to get his breathing under control like his shrink taught him, but it’s easier said than done, and he fears the moment lost by the time he does. He tries to turn it into a joke, to lighten the mood. “That’s like asking if I regret being alive.” Jason huffs a laugh, but it falls flat. 

Rose bites her lip so hard Jason half-expects it to bleed. She looks up at him as if she’s confessing to murder. Sorry, Asshole, I fucked up again. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “I was there, you know.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “At the Lazarus Pit?” And there he is, again. Drowning. 

“Yeah.” She swallows, and the next part comes out thick. “I was the one who told Ra’s Al Ghul where to find your body. He let me watch, as a thank you.”

Nowhere in that haze of memory does Jason recall seeing Rose, and that it is a whole new betrayal. “Where?” He sucks in a breath. “When?”

“Guess you weren’t happy to see me.” She snorts. “You tried to kill me. Well. Everyone, really. But you were fixated on me.” Rose looks at him, finally. “Thaila had to pull you off me before I stopped self-healing altogether.”

“And then you...left?” He’s angry, as if he has any right to be. Jason probably would’ve done the same given the circumstances. 

Rose nods. “And the All-Caste offered to take you in, fix you right up. Guess it worked.” A small smile sneaks onto her lips. But it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

One of Jason’s first clear memories of that time--a lonely night in his cell in The Chamber of All. Wondering what happened to her. If she had died right along with him and hadn’t been brought back. Being so angry when he got back to Gotham and she apparently had a life of her own. His memories of her, after, are a little less clear. But the distant look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know. 

----

“Dude, don’t be so hard on her.” Roy polishes off yet another hot dog, licking his fingers. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jason kicks his heels against the edge of the rooftop. He reaches for one of the polish sausages, but his stomach gurgles in protest. Maybe not, then. 

“You’ve no idea what she went through to get you back.” He turns to look at him, with those hazel eyes lingering on Jason in a way that always leaves him feeling, well, naked. Which shouldn’t be an issue right? Roy’s seen him naked plenty of times after a mission. There’s only one shower, and that apartment has one tiny ass water heater. Showering together only makes sense? At least there’s room for the both of them, just barely. It often turns into a game of Twister mixed with hot yoga. And like, there’s never been any problem, yeah? 

But sometimes the way Jason catches Roy staring at him. Makes him wonder. 

If he wants to stare back.

Just every once in a while. 

“Like what?” They really shouldn’t have bought the entire foodcart’s stock so the Old Man Gerasimos “Jerry” Angelos could head home early. This is way too much food, even with Roy’s bottomless stomach. 

“Maybe you should ask her sometime.” 

“Nah, I’m good.” Jason licks his fingers. “It’s easier to not talk about it at all.”

Roy laughs. “Ah, just like how you don’t talk about stuff with anyone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason gives him a playful look, but the look on Roy’s face stops him short. 

Roy doesn’t answer. He reaches over instead, wiping the mustard that got caught on the side of his mouth. His fingers are so unbelievably warm, like he’s made of fire and not skin. And Jason aches when he pulls away abruptly. 

“I uh, I just remembered that my laundry’s sitting in the washer. Probably stinks already.” Roy rushes off, not even bothering to wipe his fingers on a napkin. 

“It always stinks, Harper!” Jason roars after him, but his friend has already shut the door. 

Roy dies two days later.

------

“Would you be angry if I--we brought Roy back?” They’re on a rooftop, They’ve been waiting here for hours for Valentino’s men to show, and still nothing. Not all the Tuesday tacos in the world can make the night any less stale. Rose is on her fifth one when she gets philosophical.

Jason snorts. “You say that like it’s possible.”

Rose doesn’t say anything, and that’s what scares him.

“It’s not,” he says, louder.

“Why not?” She wipes quac from the corner of her mouth, staring at the rooftop across the street as if Roy’s gonna pop out of the skylight any second. “We brought you back.”

She can’t be serious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Rose.”

Rose deadpans at him, her lips tight and firm. “I don’t?”

Jason thinks back to the first time he found her. Her right arm bent backward, her left cradling a wound that had bled out next to her. How her eyes stared out at nothing. Someone had pressed the mute button on the universe, except for the thud of his own heart. He should call someone. Bruce, 911, anyone, but his hands won’t move.  “Right, sorry.” 

It’s a terrible idea, they both know that, but the thought keeps eating away at him. Every time Jason lets his mind wander, it wanders to Roy--his crooked smile, his careless lean--the clumsiness that shouldn’t belong to a world-class archer, but it does. The headquarters seems so empty without Roy in it--so cavernous yet so claustrophobic like it’s going to eat Jason alive. 

-----

Three days later Rose is roundhouse kicking a punching bag when Jason finds her. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit.”

 Rose stumbles, missing the bag completely and tumbling to the floor. “The fuck, Jason!” For someone who sees the future, Rose certainly didn’t hear this coming. 

Jason helps her up. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit. I don’t want Roy going through what I did.” He meets her eyes. “What we did.” 

Rose nods, still breathless and annoyed in a way that makes him want to smother her with kisses. “You got another idea?” Jason swallows, squeezing the hand he’s still holding. “Jason?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know your HLA markers, would you?”

“My what?”

----

 Rose hates going to the doctor. It’s rarely a problem--her regeneration usually prevents her from getting sick, and her injuries hardly last long enough. But she’s been around enough mad scientists that she practically glares holes into the nurse when he brings out the needle. 

“Don’t kill him and maybe I’ll give you a lollipop afterward.” Jason elbows her other arm.

“A lollipop is not what I want to be sucking right now,” Rose fires back, looking at him instead of the needle. She relaxes slightly, and Jason kisses her, brushing her hair behind her ear.

The nurse coughs. “Alright. Easy in--and done.”

Rose swallows, taking in a deep breath. “Finally.” She closes her eyes, then stands up, rushing for the door.

Jason pauses in the doorframe, looking back at the nurse. “Uh, keep us posted.”

“We’ll call.”

----

It’s a stupid idea. The morgue doesn’t even understand why Jason Todd, adopted son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne wants to keep Roy Harper’s body in their freezer, especially when Oliver Queen seems to want it cremated as soon as possible. Bribing the owner doesn’t even work--not with Queen’s fortune also in play. So, Rose concocts some dumbass story about Harper’s biological family coming in from out of town. It’s so crazy that both Queen and the mortician fall for it. 

Both Jason and Rose hold their breath when his phone rings. And Rose, and her fucking precognition, hugs him tight and fucking squeals before the nurse even says it “It’s a match.”

---

“Nervous?” Jason sits next to her, squeezing her hand as the scientist hooks the catheter tube to a vein in Roy’s chest. Jason has a hard time looking at his body, so he focuses on Rose instead. 

“Fucking terrified.” Rose laughs humorously. 

“Trust me, if they try anything I’ll shoot them myself.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

-----

Rose isn’t sure what’s more surprising, the gleam in Roy’s eyes like he just woke up from a nap, or the desperate kiss Jason gives him when he takes his first breath. Or maybe it’s not surprising at all. She should have known from the way Roy always seemed to be in Jason’s thoughts--he always had a convincing lie, and maybe Rose wanted to believe him. Maybe she should feel angry--betrayed, even, but all she feels is relief.

Finally, Jason remembers they’re not alone, and he breaks off from sucking Roy’s face, his face as red as Roy’s hair. 

Roy, on other hand, is not surprised at all. “Missed me that much, huh?”

[itsallmightbitch]

Stitches (Part Three)

Lol, did my last post say 12,000 words? I meant 15,000. Shit son, apparently All Might smut is way too much fun to write.

Pairing: Villain!All Might x Reader

Rating: Um... what’s higher than Explicit? Super Explicit?

Warnings: Oh fuck, like... all the smut. All of it. Described in ALL of the detail. 

Word Count: 15,740. Jesus.

Summary: After finding out that All Might protected you from the sick affections of a dangerous villain, there’s nothing left to do but to give in to all those pesky feelings.

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

His back was to you when you entered, his wide shoulders taking up a hell of a lot of room in your usually spacious kitchen. He didn’t turn to look at you, though you knew he’d heard your footsteps. You bit your lip and stared at him for a moment before striding forwards and, much like a person who put their hand in a tiger’s cage, you laid your own in the centre of his back.

 To your surprise, he didn’t turn around and bite it off. No- instead, his body reacted to your touch, muscles tightening and his breath leaving him in a shaky exhale.

 “Hey, look I’m sorry. I should have left it-”

 “He was gonna goddamn rape you, kitten,” All Might bit out abruptly and your hand froze against him, like all the air had been sucked out of the room and not in a good way. He still wasn’t looking at you and you didn’t know why. Why he was so dismissive of the feelings that he clearly had.

 For- for you.

 You swallowed.

 “How you even got involved with that filthy cunt, I’ll never know,” he growled, shaking his head and you heard a creaking groan as he squeezed down on your counter tops- white knuckled. You didn’t dare attempt to save them for fear it might be you next.

 Suddenly, there was a light breeze and he was on you- his hand fisted in the front of your top and you were being lifted into the air.

 “Hey!” You squeaked pathetically as your feet left the ground, one hand wrapping over the top of his wrist.

You weren’t airborne for long though, as he twirled around and set you ass first on the counter he’d been seconds from destroying. Then he was standing between your thighs, arms enclosing you and his palms flat against the wall behind your head.

 The thick, corded muscles in his biceps tightened under his skin, bulging.

 Hot damn, that horny little voice in your head purred.

 Your body sang out at the contact, thighs coming up tight around his hips without even being told to.

 He wasn’t finished talking, even though the electricity crackling in the air was becoming impossible to ignore. Your gaze dipped to his lips and the corner of them quirked, attempting not to react to the way you let him do as he pleased and even seemed to like it.

 “Shigaraki called me. Told me that word was getting around that Scissorhands had his eye on another girl. Couldn’t stop talking about this pretty little thing that he was gonna have his way with. Absolutely enamoured with her…” he said and his voice turned harsh. “And everyone knows when he gets that way, some helpless man or woman is gonna end up dead.”

 You flinched when he spat out the word in disgust and his eyes softened just the slightest at the fear that flitted over your face. You didn’t need him to spell it out for you.  

 Suddenly, All Might’s fingers came out of nowhere, trailing along your cheek and then down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

 He touched you like he was touching glass and you leaned into it, desperate for more than he was currently giving.

 He didn’t give affection like that freely. You took what you could, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. His thumb trailed a line over your cheekbone and he took a moment to study you before he continued.

 Your body was on fire.

 A girl could get used to being looked at like that.

 “I asked him why the hell I should give a damn about anything that fuckin’ creep was up to. None of my business right?” he snorted, the irony not lost on him seeing as it had turned into his business incredibly quickly. “I’m not the cops, sweetheart, understand?” he ducked his head to look you in the eye and you nodded firmly. “And, I’m no goddamn hero either.”

 Oh, you begged to differ- despite the fact that you would never, ever voice that out loud.

 His hand trailed back up to your face and he tugged you closer, all feral intensity and heat. Your head swam and your arms came up to lock around his neck. His face was inches from yours and you longed to pull him in to your lips but he wasn’t finished talking and there would be no moving him until he was done.

 “But then,” he laughed darkly, almost incredulously. “Shigaraki said your fuckin’ name.”

 Ice crept down your spine at the timbre of his voice and that primal instinct to run in the face of danger was screaming out at you in the back of your mind. But you stayed put, trapped in the iron cage of his arms with your legs folded around his hips. The rational part of you knew, just… knew, that he wasn’t going to lose his temper.

 The tension in the room was leading somewhere far different.

 “Your name,” he said and to your surprise, a shudder ran along his spine. You could do nothing but stare at him in awe.

 “I didn’t want you to bother you with it-” you choked out but got no further when he slammed his lips to yours, bruising and hard. You gasped into the kiss and his tongue invaded your mouth with force, like he’d been desperate to get back to you since you’d stopped kissing him earlier.

 He kissed you for a long time, taking in every little gasp and moan like a man starved. Like he was making sure that you were really here.

 You could barely move under the weight of him pressing against you but instead of feeling claustrophobic, it was almost comforting. He was hot and hard between your legs and you felt an overwhelming eagerness to get this ride moving.

 All Might tore his mouth away suddenly, breathing hard and you whined, trying to follow his lips.

 But instead of ravishing you then and there like you’d hoped that he would, he leaned in to your face- eyes hard like diamond and his words a low, animalistic snarl that sent a wave of both fear and arousal pulsing between your legs.

 “I ripped his fucking head off for even thinking about you like that,” he said, eyes boring hard into yours.

 Your heart hammered in your chest, attempting to break free of your ribcage.

 With an air of finality to the statement, his hands on your waist hoisted your pliant body into his arms and you clung to him, your face buried against his neck. You didn’t need to be able to see to know he was carrying you to your bedroom.

 You laid hot, open mouthed kisses along his throat and rolled your body against his.

 The fingers against your back pressed harder and you were just a little proud at how much he seemed to enjoy your touch. The most powerful man in Japan- hell, in the world- sighed under your fingertips like he desired nothing more but to skip the walk to the bedroom and just fuck you right there on the carpet in the hallway.

 But he stumbled inside eventually, kicking your door shut behind him so you wouldn’t be watched by small, curious eyes.

 You were tossed inelegantly into the centre of your bed, breathless and already missing the heat of him.

 “All Might…” you said, voice thick in your throat as he stood at the edge of the bed. His chest was heaving, eyes wild as they traced a line along your body. You suddenly felt a little intimidated by the sheer size of him. “Um, you do remember your promise right?”

 The question came out a lot softer than you meant it to. Almost shyly. His eyes snapped to yours, lip curling.

 He didn’t answer, so you elaborated.

 “Ya know, not to break your doctor?”

 You finished with a squeak when one knee pressed experimentally onto the mattress and it creaked in protest, dipping under the weight of all that muscle. It didn’t deter him though. He added the other and you both paused for a second.

 “Or her mattress,” you grinned cheekily, lopsided smile causing his eyebrow to raise. You didn’t know if he liked you teasing him or if he was just relieved that he wasn’t going to have to fuck you on the floor, but the tension in his frame abated a little and the smirk he returned was almost a smile of his own.

 Yours widened and you crooked your finger at him.

 Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and away you went again- pulled between his legs with no effort and honestly, you should be annoyed over how he was just moving you around like his own personal doll- but the look he was giving you from above was enough for you to keep your opinions to yourself.

 “Oh kitten, don’t you worry. Daddy doesn’t forget his promises,” he cooed, his massive hand splaying over your stomach. Your brain basically shorted out and you forgot basic math and your fifth birthday party.

 It took you a moment to choke out a response.

 “Oh come on, you big pervert! You know it weirds me out when you say shit like that,” you protested weakly, unable to really concentrate on telling lies when his hand slid up to cup your breast over your shirt. You choked out a moan instead, all soft and pathetic and he laughed at you.

 Of course he knew you were bullshitting him. He’d felt the way your stomach muscles had quivered and tightened when he’d called himself ‘daddy’.

 Fuck, when had that even become a kink!?

 “You gonna keep telling yourself that?” he asked, and his forefinger and thumb pinched your straining nipple and tugged. It was just hard enough to straddle the line of pleasure and pain but it still made your inner muscles clench down on nothing in desperation.

 You had a feeling that pain and pleasure went hand in hand with him. Maybe not on purpose, but anyone that big was just prone to it.

 “Hmm, did I ever mention that you have great tits?” he asked airily, like he wasn’t currently cupping a handful of one and interrupting your thoughts. His other hand was stroking a line down your side, almost soothingly but to you it was anything but.

 His touch was lighting a fire in your belly and you really wanted him to quit being all handsy with you and get on with it.

 “All the bloody time,” you said pointedly, your fingers finding purchase on his wrist but not to push his hand away. Instead you urged him to palm your breast harder and he pushed them together and up, breathing a low happy sound in the back of his throat.

 He stared at you like he was about to worship you and hell, what did you even do with that information aside from lay back and write the words ‘ENTER’ and ‘HERE’ on your thighs?

 Where did you put that permanent marker, anyway?

 Coherent thought went bye bye again when he moved his hands away to push your flimsy t-shirt up. You gladly obliged. You sort of owed him seeing as you’d been ogling him for most of the night at this point. It was only fair.

 He let out an appreciative sigh at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your bra and it only took him a second to undo it- thank you, inventor of the front clasp, you thought happily. His groan was almost a growl as he indulged himself, sliding both hands along your ribcage until he was cupping handfuls of your tits and sweeping his thumbs over your taut nipples.

 “Well, Daddy has a new favourite thing,” he said, then leered at your surprised expression. “What?”

 “You always told me you were an ass man,” you pointed out, as though he wasn’t fondling your breasts and looking at them like he was about to write a fucking sonnet.

 “Times change, baby girl,” he laughed lewdly, tongue running over his canines. “Oh yeah,” he eyed them as though sizing them up. “I’m definitely gonna fuck them.” He pushed them together again and the sensation was sending sparks bouncing across your skin.

 “Oh, it’s just what every woman wants to hear,” you countered, your damsel in distress voice coming out as you dramatically whipped a hand to your forehead and pretended to swoon. He grinned, showing off his perfect teeth. Dipping over you, he kissed you like the goddamn world was about to end.

 All deep and languid, letting you wrap yourself around him and press your bare breasts against his chest. He nudged you and moved until his hips rested between your thighs instead of vice versa, pushing forward and grinding the length of his cock against you.

 Oh now that was a feeling you were familiar with. How you’d missed it.

 You were breathless when you broke away, arms tight around his neck and when he went to pull back, you refused to let him go. You didn’t want him to stop kissing you like he was about to go to war and not come back. Like a starving man.

 “Fuck sake, you even turn me on when you’re being a sarcastic little bitch,” he growled breathlessly, then laved a hot line across your jaw and settled on your pulse point. “S’ a shame you want me to go all soft and slow on you, kitten,” he said, distaste evident in his voice. “I’d love the chance to fuck that attitude of yours right out of you.”

 Who said he wouldn’t get the chance eventually, you thought, amused by the way his big talk earlier had come back to bite him in the ass.

 Ooh, biting…

 Biting could be involved.

 You flashed him a smug grin of your own, nipping along his jaw and knowing full well that he could pull away and take you however he damn well pleased. But the important thing was… he didn’t. He stayed encased in your arms, indulging your more romantic side- despite complaining about it the entire time. It was time to bring out the big guns.

 “Hmm, I thought Daddy didn’t break his promises?” you sighed, all breathy and aroused and despite the slight weirdness you felt saying that, it was well worth it for the look on his face. His eyes widened and his jaw went slack, staring at you as though you’d just asked him to shake hands with Endeavor. You really loved it when you managed to catch him off guard.

 It took a moment for what you said to sink in but when it did…

 “Fuck me,” he groaned and buried his face in your shoulder, biting and licking patterns that had you arching up from the bed as heat flooded through you. He planted an open mouthed kiss over a nipple, then sucked hard and your head pressed back into the covers hard, almost choking on your own breath.

 There was no doubt about it, the man had an amazing mouth and you could hardly wait to have him stare up at you from between your legs.

 If anything, it would shut him up for a few minutes.

 Nipping and sucking until you were a sensitive mess, he moved across to your neglected breast, leaving the other pink and wet from his mouth. He seemed like he was in no rush to get to main event, content to take his time on your chest. He dragged the flat of his tongue across your peak before his teeth scraped against it, tugging, teasing and drawing your hips up against him when you cried out.

 You’d always assumed that he would be a ‘taker’ not a ‘giver’. How wrong you were, you scolded yourself.

 Eventually, he became impatient too and bunched the top of your pajama pants down, signalling you to raise your hips.

 Some small, insecure part of you tensed up as he dragged the pants down your legs and off, taking your panties with them.

 You expected him to dive right back in but when had he ever done anything expected of him?

 The answer was never.

 Instead of absolutely ravishing you, he stood slightly hunched over at the foot of your bed, just drinking in the sight of you naked before him. Feeling far too exposed under his hungry gaze, you squeezed your thighs together and shot him a somewhat uncomfortable look that he chose to ignore.

 “My eyes are up here, you know,” you said, swallowing against the tide of insecurity as his heated gaze danced a slow path over your naked body. It was like he wanted to memorise every inch of you, and the intensity silenced any other sarcastic comments you were about to make.

 “M’not looking at your eyes, doll,” he snorted and then his hands reached for your closed knees. “You not gonna let me enjoy this? Huh?”

 Fingers digging into them, he pried your legs apart and you couldn’t really do much to stop him, just relenting and feeling dizzy from all the blood rushing to your head. It was a good thing you were already on your back.

 “Goddamn, kitten,” he murmured, eyes fixed between your legs. He let out a low, pleased noise as he stared at the slick arousal that had been coating the inside of your thighs ever since you’d climbed into his lap earlier.

 “This all for me?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer. The asshole just wanted you to say it. He trailed his hand along the inside of your thigh, coating his thumb in your wetness and getting dangerously close to your aching pussy. You wanted to buck forward, have him touch you for the briefest of moments but you managed to get a hold of yourself before you did.

 “Yeah,” you breathed shakily as he brought his thumb to his lips and sucked on it, eyes closing briefly as though he was enraptured by the taste. “Just for you.”

 You saw his cock twitch violently against the fabric of his pants and when he was done licking his thumb clean, he went back for more. His finger trailed over your pussy ever so softly and you shivered, your hips bucking in want of more but he didn’t repeat the motion, bringing his finger to your lips instead of his.

 He observed you, amusement dancing over his face when your eyes snapped up to meet his.

 The whole thing was so intense that you barely hesitated, meeting his silent challenge and clearly surprising him- if the way his eyebrows rose suddenly was any indication. His expression quickly changed to one of satisfaction as you pulled his finger into your mouth and wrapped your tongue around it.

 The taste of your own arousal wasn’t exactly familiar but it wasn’t repulsive either and so you sucked his finger clean and just to show him that you were no pushover, you bit him playfully.

 He beamed at you, pleased by your boldness.

 “Such a good girl,” he cooed, tugging you up for another gut twisting kiss. You melted, the praise going to your head. “Gettin’ so wet for me. I knew you would.”

 “Who says I’ve been thinking about you?” you teased against his lips and then let out a laugh when he shot you an incredulous, irritated look. Hopefully you hadn’t offended him too much, you thought wickedly. As if anyone else could even hold a candle to him.

“You’re not going to huff with me are you?” you asked, nuzzling a kiss against the corner of his mouth, nose brushing his. “Because I’m pretty sure that would be a crime.”

 “What part of Number One Villain do you not understand?” he grunted. For a moment, when he didn’t move to kiss you again, you worried that you actually had annoyed him. But then-

 “Then again, I suppose I’m not that fuckin’ mean.”

 Without warning, he shoved his knee between your legs and pushed them apart again and you keened when he slid one long, thick finger inside of you. The surprise of the sudden intrusion made you jump but his other hand held you steadfastly to the mattress. He laughed at your expression, clearly enjoying taking you by surprise like that.

 The fucking asshole.

 “Now, who were you thinking about again?” he asked, voice dangerously low and your traitorous muscles fluttered and shook around his finger, your body way ahead of your brain. If this was the sweet stretch you felt with just one finger, what the hell would his cock be like?

 You tightened your grip around his neck, breathing heavily again.

 “You didn’t think to warn a girl?” you scowled at him, attempting to be annoyed even though your body was far more receptive to him. You felt your inner muscles clench again, pleased to finally have him inside.

 You assumed that he would give you a second to adjust.

 He clearly assumed differently.

 He pulled his finger out and then pushed back inside, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs along with any other complaint that you’d had to say. To your annoyance, instead of calling him a prick, you whined instead- because apparently the pleasure centre of your brain was now running the show.

 Oh well. You could chew him out later for… oh, whatever it had been that had annoyed you.

 You could feel the arousal dripping out of you, making a mess of his hand. He didn’t seem to care though, just crooking his finger instead to accentuate the little wet noises he was drawing from your body. The slip and slide of him was addictive and you pressed your hips down, needing more.

 “You gonna answer me, kitten? Or should I just stop?” he asked, slowing the thrusting motion of his hand suddenly. You managed to make a noise of protest, well aware that he wouldn’t continue until he was satisfied. This is what you got for being a smart ass.

 “You, for fuck sake! I’ve been thinking about you,” you managed to choke out and it seemed to appease him- thank God. He hummed and continued what he’d been doing, a little more self assured now than before. His eyes watched your face, drinking in the expressions you were making.

 “Christ, look at you. Soaking and needy and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he murmured and if it was awe in his voice that you heard, you didn’t point it out for fear that he would stop again.

 Thankfully, he seemed to have no intention of it.

 Your nails dug into his back sharply when he added another finger without warning.

 “Fuck!” you rasped, your throat hoarse already from the sounds he was causing you to make. Two fingers was definitely towing the line of pain but the sweet flood of endorphins every time he slid back inside you was worth it. He scissored his fingers, widening you until it suddenly became too unbearable to handle and you reached down, pushing at his forearm to make him stop. It was all well and good preparing you but he kind of needed to slow down or there’d be nothing left to prepare.

 “Ah! Stop, stop,” you managed to choke out.

 To your relief, he paused- still inside you up to the second knuckle of his hand. You relaxed back into the bed, chest heaving and your pussy throbbing in both relief and protest.

 He raised an eyebrow at you in question, fingers still buried but unmoving.

 “Sorry,” you said, sucking in a breath. “It’s just, um- been a while.”

 Definitely not a lie. Between his erratic visits and all the work you’d been bombarded with over the past few months, you’d barely had time to get yourself off let alone find someone else to do it. Besides, there was always that pesky voice in the back of your head that whispered that no-one would ever live up to him.

 You were about to find out if that voice was right, or full of shit.

 “Trying to get you ready, kitten,” he rumbled, sweeping his thumb across your clit. You shivered, thighs tightening. “Otherwise I’ll end up hurting you for real and that might ruin our plans for later.” He sounded almost soft in that moment, concerned about your well being and your stomach swooped low in response to the concern he was displaying.

 What more could you ask for in a man, anyway? Well, murderous, villainous tendencies aside.

 It took you a moment to nod, your body more than ready to continue now with the circles he was pressing against your clit. Tight, fast little movements with the pad of his thumb that made you shiver. The knot in your stomach was winding tighter and tighter despite the mild discomfort and you knew that you would come if he continued like that.

 “I can take it. I can. Please keep going,” you mewled and your voice even sounded pathetic to you but you didn’t care.

 “Please keep going, what?” he said, his fingers starting to pump again, agonisingly slowly.

 You knew what he wanted to hear and all your reservations from earlier swiftly vanished.

 “Daddy,” you whined out, knowing full well you didn’t have the energy to deny him. You just wanted to come and you needed him to get you there. “Don’t stop, Daddy,” you begged again and his deep, feral groan of pleasure was like music to your ears.

 “You’ll be the fucking death of me, kitten,” he said, rocking his hand into you and with every thrust, he widened his fingers just a little more. He was trying his best to prepare you for the absolute monster between his legs. It would almost have been sweet of him if you weren’t currently such a mess of slick arousal and sweat because of him.

 You came with his name on your lips, muscles clamping around his fingers tightly as your body shook. It was like you’d touched a live wire, everything going taut for a few seconds before you slumped back into the sheets- breathing heavily and twitching with a wave of aftershocks.

 Oh damn, you managed to think.

 Looking up at him and seeing the look of sheer arousal on his face, you expected him to simply just gather you up and fuck the remaining energy right out of your body. You certainly didn’t have the willpower to resist as things stood.

 Jesus, it was hard enough remembering your own name.

 Instead, he pulled out of your embrace and slid his fingers out of you as well- leaving you feeling empty and sore. You made a noise that could have been a protest or that could have been relief but you doubted you could answer if asked.

 Without warning, he was gone from where he’d been hovering over you and for a moment, your orgasm fogged brain couldn’t quite comprehend the speed that he’d vanished at.

 Where the fuck had he gone?

 “Um, All Might?” you asked blearily, lifting your head to search for him- before all ability to form words left you and you gasped sharply, hips leaving the bed in a wave of overwhelming sensation. Well, at least now you knew where he was.

 A moment later he was holding your hips in his hands to stop you from bucking again and repeating the motion that had almost sent you through the roof.

 His thick, hot tongue dipped inside you before he flattened it and dragged it though your come and up, over your sensitive clit. Your eyes crossed in a very unsexy way and you were suddenly glad that he was focusing all of his attention on your throbbing pussy because this was not your best game face.

 Not that you could help it.

 You’d always wondered if he’d be good in bed. Despite those frustrated nights where you argued with him, hated him- or pretended to anyway, it had forever been in the back of your mind.

 The answer was apparently- really, fucking good.

 Your hands, which up until now had been fisted tight in the sheets below, reached out so you could bury your fingers deep in his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. He didn’t seem to mind- the only indication that he’d even noticed was the tightening of his fingers on your soft hips.

 You were going to have fingerprints there tomorrow. Reminders of him taking what he wanted from your body.

 Reminders of his mouth, covering your clit like he was a man starved and the groan he let out vibrated through you hard enough to made you shake. He lapped at the new wetness that seeped out of you, seemingly endless, and used it- mixing with his saliva to make you slippery and soaking.

 It was a sensation that you would have squirmed at had you been in the right frame of mind.

 But right now, that coupled with the slide of his tongue and the way his nose would bump against your clit only served to turn you into a whining, sobbing mess. You hiccuped his name, breath catching when his teeth lightly grazed you. His tongue parted you again and pressed inside and the fingers you had in his hair curled again.

 How the hell could he even get that deep?

 Fuck, who cares- it felt phenomenal.

 He was gripping your ass now, feasting on you like a man starved with both finesse and a sort of frenzied eagerness- like he’d thought of having you like this before a thousand times. He didn’t seem to care about the obscene noises that your body was making and so you stopped caring about them as well. They only seemed to entice him more, like he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

 Pointing his tongue he pressed it sharply upwards, catching your clit and applying the briefest of pressure- but it was enough to send a pulsing wave of pleasure through you.

 You jerked hard in his hands, fingers gripping his hair hard enough to hurt even him and you felt him grin against the inside of your thigh before he pressed a kiss there.

 More kisses followed and you swiftly realised that he was teasing you, waiting for you to ask him to continue.

 “Do that again,” you pleaded breathlessly and when you glanced down after a few moments of him not complying, you saw his usual smirk directed right back at you. That self-assured, prideful expression that you’d love to wipe off of his face. He raised himself up an inch or two on his forearms, finally letting your hips go.

 Your body sank into the sheets, exhausted but still craving the pleasure that he was currently withholding.

 “Now, I thought we’d talked about this,” he said smoothly, as though he wasn’t concerned if he continued or not. Like it didn’t even bother him. His nonchalance infuriated you to your very core. Here you were, stripped bare and exposed and he was toying with you for his own personal amusement. If only he wasn’t so damn good at it, you might have protested. “That’s not how you get me to do something, is it?”

 “Oh come on,” you groaned, pressing your head back in irritation. He was really going to make you do this again? How could he be so obsessed with hearing you talk when all he ever did was try to shut you up?

 “Too chicken. I knew it,” he taunted, nipping his teeth against your thigh. One palm smoothed up over your hip, then flattened over your stomach.

 You bit back the pleasant sigh that had threatened to slip out at the touch, stewing in a silent fury instead.

 Chicken!? You!?

 You would fucking show him who was chicken. Without warning, you sat up swiftly- almost headbutting him. You must have caught him off guard because he didn’t even try to push you back down with his hand- even though he would have had no trouble. Without even contemplating if it would piss him off or not, you gripped his chin, much like he had been doing to you all night.

 His eyes went comically wide as you brought your face close to his.

 “Do that again, Daddy. Please,” you said, in a voice you didn’t think you’d ever actually used before. Or known you could use. If he wanted you to talk dirty to him then you were going to bite the goddamn bullet and make the idiot happy.

 You didn’t actually expect it to send him into a frenzy- but hey, more orgasms for you.

 You hit the bed with a thump and suddenly, his thumbs were spreading you apart and his mouth was on you again. This was different than before though. Less languid. No more taking his time to tease the orgasm out of you. No. All Might was on a fucking mission.

 He growled against you and then rolled his tongue across your clit like you’d asked.

 Your eyes threatened to roll back.

 Maybe they did. You didn’t fucking know. You were busy focusing on the absolute animal between your thighs and trying not to pass out.

 Clearly you didn’t have a clue what you’d been asking him for. Mindlessly, you draped your legs over his shoulders- your heels digging into his back as you attempted to pull him closer. One hand fisted in the sheets as your back arched up and away from the bed, mouth slack as all reasoning and ability to form words left you.

 Someone was making noises worthy of a damn good porno and- oh. That was you.

 “All Might, please. Please, oh fuck,” you babbled mindlessly, screwing your eyes shut in some feeble attempt to keep it together. Like you could even try. You moaned, high pitched and pathetic, swivelling your hips under the constant attack of his tongue- desperate for him to bring you over the edge.

 Then, he rumbled something and you almost didn’t even hear him, considering your ears were ringing with your own gasps and you were on the very verge of coming. You almost ignored it, dismissed it… but…

 You only just registered what he’d said before he went back to flicking your clit from side to side quickly. Fuck, even your bullet didn’t move that- fast! You bucked, spasming softly and looking down at him over your breasts. You expected him to be focused on the task but his eyes watched you instead of what he was doing.

 You wondered if he was waiting for you to do as he’d just said or whether he was just watching the bounce of your tits.

 Probably both.

 But you weren’t going to pass up the chance he’d just given you. He could be called All Might, Daddy, whatever the fuck else later. Right now-

 “Toshi!” you cried, hips canting upwards from the bed as his tongue filled you again. At the sound of an age old nickname- one he hadn’t let anyone call him in years, he yanked you down hard with his massive arm slung across you to keep you still and went to fucking town.

 Blearily, you wondered just how many tongues he actually had.

 Six? Seven? Fuck-

 Said tongue curled inside you and you felt the pressure building out of nowhere, the same pressure that you could usually sense long before it happened. You didn’t even get a chance to warn him before you were coming again, for the second time in twenty minutes.

 You felt warm liquid spill from you without warning as your orgasm wrecked you and heard him grunt in what sounded like surprise. But then his mouth was back on you and he was helping you ride the wave right until the end.

 Past the end.

 The overwhelming sensation was suddenly far too much, your clit throbbing and pleading for a reprieve. You finally gasped and found the strength to push his head away, clamping your thighs together in some vain attempt to slow the pulsing. Your breathing stuttered, eyes shut tight as you attempted to come down from your high.

 Okay. Good had been a total understatement.

 When you finally managed to open your eyes again, All Might was staring you down with a dark, hungry expression on his face.

 His, um, very wet face.

 Every molecule in your body squirmed with embarrassment and you felt your face heat up before you could do anything to stop it. You probably should have warned him but, in your defence, you’d never actually done that with someone else.

 You were as surprised as him.

 “Yeah, um… sorry about that,” you muttered, gesturing to him without looking him in the eye. “I… don’t do that very often. And you know, never with someone…else,” you trailed off, clearing your throat.

 He made a noise in response and you glanced up to find him grinning, shark like and looking pleased with himself. Your embarrassment lessened a lot because he clearly hadn’t minded.

 “What are you sorry about? M’I the first guy to make you squirt doll?” he asked teasingly, his voice a delectable rumble that seemed to find it’s way right between your legs again. You clenched around nothing, abdomen quivering without your say so. How could you possibly be ready to go again!?

 His grin widened, like he was going to devour you but you answered him before he could.

 “I guess you get a gold star,” you said and relaxed backwards.

 Before you could stop yourself, you were giggling into your hands, hiding your face from him. Of course he hadn’t minded. Christ, if he wasn’t the most wanted criminal in the entire universe you would gladly drag him home to meet your folks.

 Not only was he pretty much a walking, talking sex God, but he’d coaxed two orgasms out of you with barely any effort. Coupled with the fact that he’d let you call him Toshi… Well, you might have to stop talking for a while in case you fucking proposed.

 You covered your face with your hands, still laughing as you felt him press a kiss to the inside of your knee.

 “Well shit. She’s broken,” he snorted. “I was hoping you’d hold out a little longer.”

 Scrubbing your face, you lifted your head to look at him. He was resting his chin on your stomach now, grinning at you in that teasing way he did sometimes. The one that made your heart feel funny in your chest. His hair was a mess and you reached out to smooth down the kinks you’d made.

 “Hey, once I get feeling back in my legs-” you warned, nudging his head to the side with your hand.

 “Who says I’m gonna let up for that long?”

 Now there was a promise you wanted him to keep. But for now…

 “There’s a towel in the en-suite, Romeo,” you managed to say, pointing him in the direction of your little adjoining bathroom. He glanced towards it, taking your hint.

 Suddenly, he was gone and the lack of his weight caused the bed to rise. You bounced a little, worried mildly if these springs would actually hold up under any real action. He reappeared from your en-suite, scrubbing the proffered towel over his face.

 You finally took a moment to really look over him, drinking in every little move he made. The way the muscles in his arms tightened and relaxed as he moved, slicking his hair back from his face to try and control the mess you’d been making of it.

 The steady rise and fall of his chest, no-where near as erratic and pumped up as yours was yet but hard enough to let you know that he was just as aroused. His shoulders, all broad and powerful and bloody Hell was it even hotter in here suddenly or was that just you?

 That little happy trail of blond hair that led under his tenting pants was what called to you the most though. You wanted to trace your tongue down it.

 He noticed you watching him from the corner of his eye and waggled his thick eyebrows at you when you managed to pull your eyes away.

 “What, now you’ve got me where you want me, you think you can just ogle me?” he asked, throwing the towel at your head. You laughed, catching it out of the air but it quickly fell from your fingers when he started undoing the knot that currently held his pants up. “Tit for tat, sweetheart?” he asked, knowing full well what your answer was.

 The smooth material found no purchase on him once the knot was undone and they slid down, only catching very briefly on the head of his cock.

 Then there was nothing in the way. No pants. No towel. Just him, in all of his thick, veiny glory.

 Holy mother of God.

 You almost drooled out loud. Was that thing even fucking legal?

 You’d felt him earlier sure and even seen the outline of him enough to have a rough guess as to what he looked like but neither of those things had adequately prepared you for this.

 He postured and preened under your slack jawed appreciation, before striding forward towards the bed. The monster bobbed as he walked as if to fucking say hello- like he was the third person in the room and you felt yourself get all swollen and gooey at the mere thought of licking him from base to tip.

 Yep. That thought had most definitely climbed to number one on your to do list.

 You managed to swing yourself up onto your knees as he approached, holding your hand out to stop him climbing onto the bed like he intended. He quirked an eyebrow at you, cocking his head to one side and surveying your expression for any signs that you might be about to pull the plug and leave him with a serious case of blue balls.

 Like you would.

 “You’re not getting on this bed until I’ve sucked your cock,” you said as confidently as you could. It seemed to work, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a leer. He splayed his hands as if to say, ‘come and get me if you dare’ and how were you supposed to back down from a challenged like that?

 You had no idea where the overwhelming desire to suddenly have your mouth on him had come from, but it was right there, driving you to grip the base of him and tug him forward gently. He chuckled, following your lead with no complaints.

 Damn, where did you even start?

 A prominent vein ran long the length of him, so you dipped your head and traced the point of your tongue along it- much like he’d done to your clit when he was making you see stars earlier. You could feel the burn of his eyes on the top of your head but you were undeterred from your mission, following the line of the vein back down to the base again.

 Despite how stoic and above all this mindless pleasure he tried to remain though, he couldn’t hide it when he twitched involuntarily under your fingers. Pleased that he wasn’t as untouchable as he thought he was, you hid a grin by flattening your tongue along the underside of him coating him in saliva from your hand to just under the head.

 Fingers trailing upwards, you gripped him somewhere in the middle and tugged his foreskin back- giving you a perfectly mouthwatering view of the shiny, dark pink head of his cock.

 A thick bead of precum escaped from the slit and oozed downwards. You didn’t even have to think before you were catching it on your tongue. More followed and for a few moments, you continued the lazy lapping motion to taste as much as you could.

 Under your free hand that rested on his thigh, you felt his muscles tighten every time you made those little breathy sounds of enjoyment.

 “You enjoying that, kitten?” he asked all pleased with himself. You let your gaze flick up, meeting his eyes just as your pressed a searing, open mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock. His jaw clenched, cockiness falling away as he grunted out an obscenity.

 “Mmm hmm,” you confirmed, just as pleased with yourself for getting a reaction out of him. He wasn’t the only one who could play games.

 “Yeah you are,” he said, sounding almost proud. Of what, you didn’t know but you would take it anyway. You swirled your tongue across the head again and heard his breath catch. “My good fuckin’ girl,” he continued and you felt a sweet, tight burn begin in the tops of your thighs. Despite your protests, his filthy mouth really turned you on. “Rub it over your lips, sweetheart- get them nice and shiny for me.”

 You did as he asked, sliding the hot, dark tip over your lips and coating them in the never ending precum flowing from him.

 “Just like that, fuck,” his head fell back, tendons tensing in his neck.

 The whole time you had been trailing your tongue over him, you had been working up the courage to actually get your mouth around him too. All Might was, if you did say so yourself, a very well proportioned man.

 Not just intimidatingly long, but also thick around as well and you could almost feel the tendons in your jaw protesting already.

 But, mama didn’t raise no quitter.

 Finally working up the nerve and relaxing your mouth as much as you could, you parted your lips over the head of his cock and pressed forward. He exhaled a long, low sound of appreciation that honestly, made the effort worth it. You inhaled deeply through your nostrils, soldiering on until you couldn’t physically take any more of him without choking.

 Although… he would probably enjoy that.

 But you weren’t about to start deep-throating him right away. You had to save a little bit of mystery for the next time after all.

 Glancing up, you saw his abdomen twitch with pleasure and you would have grinned had your mouth not been full. You hadn’t done this in quite a while and never with someone who could literally break your jaw if he decided to jerk his hips. Granted, you wouldn’t mind seeing him get all whiny and lose a little of that constant control he seemed to maintain.

 Thankfully, despite the tension in his shoulders All Might was the very picture of restraint, like he knew that any quick movements would probably leave you with no teeth.

 Might put a dampener on the night if he had to take you to A&E.

 Still, all those old tricks you knew of came rushing back. You weren’t above pulling a few of your moves out, especially seeing as he’d almost blown your head off earlier with his own mouth. You refused to slack off.

 So you hollowed your cheeks as hard as you physically could with so much of him filling your mouth and then drew back up slowly, moaning in satisfaction as you did. Just like sucking on an ice pop. You rolled your wrist at the same time- determined to draw a reaction out of him.

 You weren’t disappointed.

 He drew in a sharp hiss of air between clenched teeth and his massive hand curled into the hair on the back of your head. Wanting more, you repeated the motion again and felt his fingers tighten then relax, tighten, relax. With every bob of your head, every smooth lap of your tongue on him, he let a little more of his tight control go.

 “Ah! Fuck,” he grunted, head falling back and you finally released him with an obscenely wet pop.

 Giving your mouth a break for a moment, you used the combination of saliva and precum- now flowing freely- to lubricate your hand and slowly, teasingly, began to jerk him off. It was almost fascinating, the pull and drag of his foreskin and the way he pulsed under your fingertips.

 He rubbed his palm through your hair, tugging gently and winding his fingers through it- like he was playing with it, encouraging you.

 You licked a long stroke from base to tip, nuzzling at him, practically making love to his cock with your mouth.

 So far, your free hand had been switching between fondling his balls and stroking along his thigh. Smirking slyly while he was otherwise engaged, you tested the waters a little bit. It wouldn’t hurt, after all. Making sure you were distracting him suitably by sucking the head of him into your hot mouth again, you let your fingers play further between his legs.

 Across his perineum, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time.

 His lips quirked in a savage smirk when he realised just what you were trying to do.

 “Where do you think that hand is going, doll?” he chuckled deeply, but he didn’t seem too perturbed by your sudden brave exploration. You shrugged and hummed something nonsensical- although you did have a mouthful of him at the time. Speaking was sort of out of the question.

 You tried to look as innocent as possible but there was no way he was falling for that.

 “Gotta buy a man dinner before you play with his ass,” he waggled his eyebrows and you had to pull away, leaving a string of drool connecting your lips and his cock. But you were laughing all the same at the thought of All Might getting uptight about something at last.

 “I technically bought dinner last week,” you told him, your voice husky and your face aching- but desperately wanting more. You slid your fingers forward further but didn’t get where you were going because he suddenly swept down and lifted you into his arms. You let out a childish giggle, and pouted at him when he brought you up to eye level. “You’re no fun.”

 “Look at you, finally gettin’ all kinky on me,” he muttered, eyes tracing your features and then settling on your swollen, shiny lips. It was apparent that he couldn’t resist from the way he lunged forward, one hand on the back of your neck to stop you escaping.

 Not that you would want to. He didn’t seem to mind that your lips were still sticky with his cum because he plundered your mouth almost wantonly, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while he did.

 He drew your bottom lip between his teeth, biting it softly, tugging on it and then releasing it.

 Your face was impossibly close to his and the urge was just too much when he released you. Without really thinking about it, you ducked your head and nuzzled your nose against his. A smile broke your lips and you gently cupped the back of his head. He was unmoving under your fingers but you didn’t really need him to move, too caught up in the softness of the moment.

 Body humming from two orgasms and the taste of him still on your tongue was making you bold- affectionate even.

 When a big, muscular arm wrapped around your waist you knew that he was, albeit tentatively, accepting you getting all sweet on him. For a now anyway.

 You took what you could get.

 Spearing your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, you trailed soft, lazy kisses over his throat, his jaw, his lips. Wherever you could reach, supported by the steel band of muscle against your back and your thighs caught on his hips.

 Eventually though, the unprecedented affection seemed to become too much for him and he pulled away.

 But his smirk wasn’t as sharp as it usually was, nor were his eyes as hard. He said nothing about your little detour and instead, pulled you back to his mouth- rough and passionate again. You found it hard to mind because the aching desire was even more desperate to be quenched.

 Two thick fingers trailed through your pussy and you quivered in delight, sighing.

 “Hmm, think you’re up for the challenge now kitten?” he murmured, before sucking his fingers into his mouth and turning your brain into putty.

 “You think you can handle me?” you grinned salaciously, even if the false bravado behind your words was just that. So false. This was going to be a rough ride and you were starting to wonder if you were actually as prepared as you’d thought.

 He didn’t throw you down on the bed and ravage you though, like you thought he would.

 Instead, he set you down and sat on the bed- which creaked in protest- and moved himself back until he was sitting with his back to your headboard. You watched him go, mouth watering and body yearning to follow. How did a guy as big as him move so gracefully anyway?

 He was like a big cat. All, thick powerful muscle but with practised, self assured movement.

 When he was comfortable, he gestured to his lap invitingly and who were you to refuse an invitation like that?

 He reclined, looking the very picture of nonchalance, lazing with one arm slung above his head and the other palming across his cock- which rested thick and hard against his toned stomach. A fresh wave of arousal and heat crashed over you and like a moth to flame, you went to him.

 You crawled on all fours along his body until you were face to face with him, finally finding yourself in the same position you’d been in at the start of all of this, only with far fewer clothes. Well, for you at least.

 How could one man look so sinful and yet so beautiful at the same time?

 Your fingers traced the line of his cheekbone, examining his features in a way you never had before.

 This villain, scourge of the earth who struck fear into the hearts of the most powerful heroes- how, you wondered, how could he be so gentle with you? He could break you apart, physically, mentally. Do whatever he wanted with you. But he didn’t.

 For all the badness in him, something light threatened to shine through despite his desperate efforts to keep it away.  

 You didn’t get any more time to ponder the mystery of him though. His big hands came to grip your waist and then he was helping you rise up. You allowed him to guide you, anticipation mixing with apprehension.

 The blunt head of his cock prodded you, then slipped between the lips of your pussy. He made a happy sound, like he enjoyed the heat and the wetness he found there and you couldn’t help but stare at him intensely.

 He noticed you, matching your look with a fiery gaze.

 “Don’t tense up,” he said warningly, giving you a pointed look as though you were going to disobey him. You understood that he was telling you something that would possibly lessen the pain but all you could do was nod dumbly, throat too tight with nerves to answer.

 He seemed appeased though.

 He let go of your waist, one hand going to your hip and the other slipping between you both to grip the thick base of his cock.

 You kind of wished you could see him do it. Maybe later, you would ask him to give you your own personal show. Your mouth watered suddenly at the thought.

 The head of his cock slid between your lips, once, then twice, as he coated himself in the arousal that was steadily dripping out of you. You attempted to relax as much as you possibly could, but you knew it wouldn’t be enough. It was hard to relax when something that fucking big was threatening to rip you in half.

 Then he was pressing in and his other hand was pulling you down onto him with an agonising slowness.

 Jesus fuck, you thought blindly.

 You inhaled sharply as his head stretched you far more than you thought it would. Your mouth fell open in a silent, pained gasp. Sucking in another breath, you forced yourself to not tense up- aware that it would only make things worse.

 Tears burned sharply in the corners of your eyes.

 Clearly that damned tongue of his had wiped all sense from your idiot brain, seeing as you’d quite willingly gotten this far.

 You panted softly, digging your fingernails into his shoulders in an attempt to calm yourself and bypass the overwhelming stretch. He exhaled through his nose, eyes concentrated on where he was sliding slowly inside you at long last. He didn’t notice when you drew blood from him with your nails. Either that or he didn’t care.

 He showed no signs of letting up or stopping, despite the clear struggle you were going through.

 You were a little grateful that he was powering through. If he stopped now then you might chicken out from attempting it again and to be honest, you didn’t want to stop. Past this pain was the sweet bliss of having him inside you- a bliss that you’d often fantasised about.

 “Ah!” you hiccuped, high pitched and pained as the head of his cock finally slipped inside you with the feeling of a ‘pop’. Despite your attempts not to do it, you accidentally tensed up like he’d told you not to. “Ow, motherfucker!” The words were said through gritted teeth, a tear escaping down your cheek when you squeezed your eyes shut and his gaze snapped to your face, feeling the hard protest of your muscles.

 “I told you not to fucking tense up,” he said, exasperated and shaking his head at your disobedience. You shot a watery eyed a glare at him.

 “Listen, jack ass,” you snapped. “How about we put something the size of a goddamn baseball bat into your vagina? See how well you take it!” you swallowed, still breathing hard but lucid enough to be sarcastic. Good, at least you hadn’t lost all of your brain function. He huffed a sharp laugh, not bothered by your bitchiness.

 “You wanna stop then?” he asked, surprising you.

 “No,” you muttered, petulantly. “… Just- just gimme a second.”

 He grunted out his agreement and when you finally looked at his face you saw red staining his cheeks and his chest rising and falling quickly. Looks like you weren’t the only one affected in all of this. It gave you a tiny thrill that being inside you, even a little bit, was drawing a reaction out of him.

 “At least you’re enjoying yourself,” you managed.

 “Guess I’m impressed, is all,” he smirked, tonguing the inside of his cheek and letting his gaze roam over you. He tweaked your nipples, gliding his hands over your breasts and then down to your trembling thighs. “Didn’t think you’d be able to take it the first time around.”

 Frowning at him and his lack of faith in you, you jabbed him in the chest with one finger.

 “I’m no pushover,” you informed him and as if to prove your point, you chanced a quick, experimental squeeze of your muscles around his cock. He let out a sharp, choked moan of surprise, eyebrow quirking at your sudden boldness. You did it again and found that, although the sting ebbed and flowed, it wasn’t as bad as it was when you’d started.

 “You good now, sweet cheeks?” he grinned, clearly ready to get on with the main event.

 “Giddy up, cowboy,” you said, challenge in your voice and confidence flooding through you. You would keep up with him if it fucking killed you- a determination to make him proud pulsing through you and while you would normally ignore such a base instinct, the urge to fuck him until you both couldn’t walk was louder than anything else now.

 He snorted and then wasted no time in tugging you down further, keeping his eyes locked on the sight of his cock slowly being swallowed by your cunt.

 Inch by inch, he disappeared inside of you and with every new milestone reached, your body shook and protested and trembled. Thank God you’d already come twice. Without foreplay this would have been absolutely impossible.

 By the time you were halfway there, your breathing had steadied and you had loosened your death grip on him bit by bit.

 It no longer hurt like a bitch. There was an edge to the stretch, yeah, but now that it was consistent your body was becoming used to it.

 Never before had you felt this mindnumbingly, satisfyingly full. Your collection of dildos, the ones you’d thought were pretty big when you’d bought them, were almost pathetic in comparison to him. They definitely hadn’t prepared you for this.

 As you sank down, feeling more confident that the pain wasn’t about to overwhelm you, you slid your hands down to his chest and felt your mouth go slack when you finally stopped the descent. A groan caught in your chest, stuttered and choked.

 You rolled your head back, relaxing now that the hard part was over.

 “Well, look at you,” All Might purred out and you convulsed around him at the sound of his voice. He grinned at you, obviously enjoying the sight of your red cheeks and the heaving of your chest, which was making your tits bounce ever so slightly. “You’re taking Daddy’s cock so well.”

 Your stomach clenched when he said that. His calloused hand trailed across your belly then down and he thumbed a circle over your clit when he dipped it between your legs. He slid two fingers either side of where his cock was joined with you.

 You shivered as a pleasurable throb broke through the sustained discomfort at long last. That was fucking nice and you wanted more.

 To his credit, he gave you a few long moments to adjust to the intrusion- not prompting you to move and seeming content to just study you, impaled on his cock as you were. You took the few seconds of reprieve to lean against his chest. Another few moments and you were brave enough to attempt a few experimental, shallow bounces on him that made him hiss out a swear word.

 “Fucking hell,” he said. “You’re tight as a fuckin’ virgin, darling. Feels like you’re strangling my cock.”

 With your new found confidence, you shot him a cheeky smile.

 “You wanna stop?” you parroted his question and to your delight, he laughed and pulled you forward against him. The movement pulled you higher off of him but thankfully, it didn’t jostle you too much and slowly, but surely, you sank back down with a satisfied sigh.

 “This thing should come with a warning label,” you informed him breathlessly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes followed the movement, his thumb coming up to draw a line across your lip.

 “S’that right?” he said and then waggled his eyebrows at you. You choked out a pathetically girly giggle and it seemed to bolster him. He really did enjoy having an audience. “License to thrill?”

 You groaned, and not from pleasure.

 “God, you’re so fucking cheesy sometimes, it’s embarrassing,” you said, pushing his head to one side. “License to thri- I mean, honestly,” you balked.

 He didn’t seem particularly perturbed by your petty insults, especially when you followed them up by leaning in to plant a hot kiss on his lips. He returned it, fingers winding around the back of your neck.

 You loved it when he was goofy. It happened so rarely and it turned you on like nothing else.

 His kisses were far too good, you decided as his tongue ran across yours and teased your mouth until you were a panting mess of horny. Rising up slowly, you found that you couldn’t quite tear your lips away from his, letting him nibble your bottom lip and then suck on it. Your thighs trembled as you sank back down and you shuddered from the heat of pleasure that coiled inside you and snaked along your limbs.

 He moaned into your mouth and the sound spurred you on.

 Moments later, you rolled your hips and just sort of- went for it.

 Pride welled up in your chest as you did. Not only had you sucked it up and probably broken the world record for actually taking his cock but it was you, you, that was currently putting that look on his face. That heated, contented look as his gaze caressed you from your tits to where he was sinking in and out of you.

 So far, he was keeping to his promise of slow and hard.

 You pulled in a breathy noise, pitched higher than normal as you squeezed experimentally around him. To your delight, he answered you with a guttural groan- and then to your surprise, his hands came up from your hips where he’d been setting the easy pace.

 One splayed across your back and the other… cupped your cheek?

 Oh, nice, you thought warmly.

 Then, quite unexpectedly, he tugged your face close and your forehead met his.

 Oh fuck. It should be a crime to look at someone that fucking intensely. Butterflies exploded inside you and something unnamed and previously quiet, reared it’s head and roared.

 Your eyes went wide but anything you had to say about it was swiftly cut off by the sudden jerk of his hips, sending him forcefully back inside you. You jumped under his hand, crying out in both surprise and pleasure. You hadn’t exactly expected that to feel good but the stretch of your pussy was turning sweeter as you became used to his girth.

 His breathing had turned heavy without you noticing but when you finally did, you managed a grin at him, swivelling your hips sensually and rising up a little further with each bounce.

 It was erotic, the slap of your thighs against his and the feeling of tightness winding in your stomach. He sighed out your name in pleasure and it was like music to your ears.

 “Does Daddy like that?” you asked, all breathy and cocky.

 His lip curled in a leer that both aroused and worried you, mainly because it meant that he was up to something-

 He thrust upwards again and anything else you might have had to add, caught in your throat.

 “Oh holy shit,” you managed after a moment- because unlike before when he’d seemed content to let you set the pace, his thrusts continued, harder and faster than you’d thought you could take. That’s what you got for being full of yourself apparently. Oh the tragedy, you mused headily as your body became pliant and loose under his sudden show of dominance.

The hand that had been on your cheek dropped away to your breast, cupping it and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged lazily, just enough to make you whine for more.

 “You have no idea how much I like it, sweetheart,” he growled out, his mouth finding your neck suddenly. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, you know that? Ever since you chewed me out for breaking in and called me an asshole,” he snickered, red hot kisses searing your throat between every word. “My little firecracker, s’what you are.”

 You felt the nip of his teeth, then felt him grin wickedly against your neck. You knew what he was thinking before he did. Alarmed, you managed to say-

 “Toshinori, don’t you dare-”

 But it was too late and he effectively shut you up with another hard thrust just as you were slipping back down onto him. He met you halfway and your brain fucking rattled in your head from the force of it, pleasure shooting like electricity through your veins. You managed a garbled noise that wasn’t even close to words- let alone a protest.

 While he distracted you with mindless pleasure- not that you were complaining- he sucked a bruising hickey into your skin where everyone could see it. His way of marking his territory, you supposed.

 You should probably be mad about it, but some little primal part of you drowned deliriously in the knowledge that he clearly wanted everyone to know who you belonged to.

 You could complain later, your decided, finding a delicious rhythm now and not wanting to let it go for the sake of scolding him.

 Satisfied that he’d marked you appropriately, All Might lazed back against the headboard and seemed content to just watch you bounce steadily on his cock. His eyes followed every movement, every twitch, every roll of your hips. He rumbled out an encouraging word or two whenever you managed to take a little more of him and seemed fascinated by the slick wetness you left over his shaft.

 His fingers came up to play with the hickey he’d left on your neck intermittently, as though he was making sure it was still there.

 You could feel arousal dripping out of you, making your descent easier each time and pulling wet sounds from you with every thrust.

 You rested your hand on his stomach, giving you extra leverage to continue as your legs began to shake with the effort. How he could keep so much composure was beyond you, although, you could see the cracks beginning to form in his perfectly crafted expression.

 The darkening of his gaze, the way his lips parted and is tongue snuck out to wet them. The corded muscle of his neck twitching, the flare of his nostrils and the clench of his jaw every few seconds told you that you weren’t alone in the heady, sweet pleasure.

 Tugging his hand up from where he’d been idly toying with your breasts, you slid one of his fingers between your lips and met his eyes. They seemed to blacken dangerously but when had you ever heeded a warning from him? You laved your tongue over the pad of his finger, moaning and reaching up to cup your breasts in lieu of his hands doing it.

 You tugged on your nipples, riding him with exaggerated rolls of your hips like you were going for the fucking Porn Star of the Year award- all while moaning obscenely around his finger.

 Suddenly, your world tilted and you felt dreadfully empty as he pulled out of you completely.

 “Toshi!” you protested with a shriek.

 You were flying backwards and your back hit the mattress with a sudden muffled thump- knocking the air out of you. Then, much like he had been earlier in your kitchen, All Might was fucking on you in seconds- almost smothering you with his muscular form. His eyes were wild and he snarled into your neck, nipping and biting.

 One hand gripped your thigh to tug it up over his hip, roughly.

 All you could really do was comply under his sudden assault, hooking both legs where he wordlessly instructed you to, locking your ankles over his lower back. The head of his cock nudged your clit and you suddenly found yourself stuffed full again when he thrust back inside you without warning. Thankfully, riding him for so long had adequately prepared you for the sudden intrusion.

 Your back arched, a half halting scream filling the room, surprise mixed with pleasure.

 But- but- oh holy shit, you weren’t complaining seconds later when he rocked his hips and slid deeper, almost to the hilt. This new position was making it easier for him to hit different angles and fuck, you hoped and prayed you weren’t going cross eyed because you had very little control of your body’s reactions right now.

 All you could do was lie there and accept that he was very much in charge.

 You dragged your fingernails down his muscular back, feeling the tension in his shoulders as he ploughed you into your bed without mercy- thrusting with hard, measured strokes that kept you pushing steadily towards another orgasm.

 “Goddamn, fucking tease,” he growled, teeth bared in a dangerous snarl that looked almost animalistic.

 The knot in your stomach unwound at lightening speed, surprising both of you.

 You bucked and whined and generally made it known that your orgasm had hit you like a truck. If the downstairs neighbours hadn’t heard anything so far, they’d have heard that. He clearly wasn’t unaffected by it, his fingers grasping onto your headboard.

 Distantly, you heard a groaning crack but you ignored it, drowning in too much pleasure to care what it was.

 He pulled out of you fully after a moment and you felt another flood of come follow him, your muscles taut and your hands scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders. He swore, sounding wrecked by the fact that he’d made you squirt a second time in one night.

 You were equally as impressed but lacked the actual diction to say anything about it.

 Feeling horribly empty all of a sudden, you whined needily.

 “Come back,” you begged pathetically, reaching for him. He lunged forward, the base of his come soaked cock in his fist to steady it and then pushed back inside of you again in one long stroke. Your eyes rolled back and your weak sob of pleasure was cut off by his mouth covering yours.

 The intensity of the pulsating pleasure between your legs was almost too much to handle, but the thought of it stopping- of him not being inside you any more- was somehow even more unbearable.

 He kissed you wantonly, his tongue imitating the push and pull of his cock and when you pulled back to breathe, you heard the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard before.

 All Might- no- Toshinori whined for you and followed, seeking your mouth again.

 You obliged, victorious. Your muscles fluttered around the shaft of his cock and a vein was dragging across your g-spot with every thrust.

 His hand covered your ass, squeezing one cheek with a brutal grip that was sure to leave a mark. He seemed to be unravelling quickly now, his thrusts losing their regular rhythm. You managed to roll your hips upwards, meeting him halfway.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, trailing sloppy, open mouthed kisses across your neck and chest and the wet heat of his mouth was blissful. “Where?” he asked suddenly and you looked at him stupidly, brain turned to mush and pretty much unable to comprehend anything other than the rapid pulsing of his hips against your thighs.

 Oh you would have so many bruises tomorrow.

 “Huh?” you asked, you voice hoarse and choked as he brushed a thumb over your clit out of nowhere.

 “Gonna come, sweetheart,” he managed an amused smile, nipping at your jaw with sharp canines. “Where d’ya want it?”

 Honestly, it was out of your mouth before you could even think about it. You were on the pill- you knew that much in your foggy ass brain and you also knew that you didn’t want him to stop. Not now. You were rapidly approaching orgasm number four and you knew that if he came inside you, it would push you over the edge so hard you might just shatter.

 Gripping his hips, you tugged him deeper and he cocked his head at you, hair falling over his eyes from where you’d been gripping it before.

 The surprise on his face was stark and you managed a triumphant smile.

 “Inside,” you said, all weak and exhausted but determined all the same. During the exchange, his hips hadn’t stopped or slowed, keeping up the powerful pace. But as soon as you said that, they stuttered and his rhythm slipped completely.

 “Christ,” he groaned and you saw the arm supporting his weight flex, muscles bulging and you had to admit it was a glorious sight to behold. His other hand found your hip and tugged you up to meet his quick, desperate thrusts. “You’re fuckin’ amazing kitten,” he groaned and you knew that this was most honest thing you might ever hear from him.

 Your body responded to his praise, shaking and trembling with the force of his thrusts.

 “You too- God, you too,” you muttered, mindless words of affection spilling out of you. You cried out, body jackknifing when he shifted and the angle changed suddenly. Oh God, that was good. So good. You drew your tongue up and across his throat before kissing him hotly. “I’m so glad- so glad you came back to me Toshi.”

 “You- ugh,” he grunted, his voice hitting a higher pitch that warned you he was close. You tensed in anticipation, desperate to see him unravel on top of you. “You gettin’ all sweet on me baby?” he laughed but there was something else under that bravado that made your heart skip a beat.

 He actually wanted to know.

 “Always- fuck- always been sweet on you,” you said. “Just you!” You cried out, hands sliding along his sweat soaked back, wanting him closer. “Toshi!”

 His body tensed suddenly and then he was coming, exploding inside you and coating you with hot, sticky warmth. You moaned, the feeling of him tensing in your arms and his hot, laboured groan of your name, more than enough to push you over the edge again.

 You pulsed in waves around his cock, breath hitching and nails raking across his shoulders, your final orgasm knocking all of the energy out of you at last.

 He panted, hips bucking as he filled you- still very much in the throes of his own orgasm. He bit down on your shoulder, muffling his swearing and growling as you twitched. Just how much- holy shit!

 Your eyes widened as he pulled out of you swiftly, leaving a messy trail of mixed come dribbling out of your abused pussy. He gripped the base of his cock and just- kept- going.

 Warm, thick come splashed in lines across your stomach and your muscles spasmed again at the sight of his cock, twitching and spurting and generally making a mess of you.

 Eventually, it tapered off and he let go, slamming his hand into the bed beside your head and fisting the sheets in his fingers. His breathing was heavy, almost feral as he attempted to come down from the high of his orgasm. You could still feel the combined come flooding out onto the ruined bedspread below.

 You wanted to press your thighs together but his hips were still between them and his cock rested against your stomach, thick and hot and slick.

 It took you both a moment to get your breath back and you saw him glance down at you when you shifted at long last, wriggling out from under him. You didn’t make it far, when his big hand circled your wrist and tugged you back underneath the sweltering heat of his body.

 “Where d’ya think you’re going, kitten?” he asked lowly, eyes flashing.

 You tutted, patting his cheek fondly to reassure him that you weren’t exactly running away.

 It wasn’t as though you could. These legs were out of commission, clearly.

 “Unless your brain short circuited or something, I’m covered in come thanks to you. I’m going to get cleaned up,” you informed him, flashing him a grin. To your surprise, he rumbled out a deep, low laugh and ducked his face to yours. He kissed you, long and slow and toe-curling, enough to practically melt you into the mattress again.

 You flopped back, now content to just stay here forever.

 “Stay,” he ordered and slipped away from you, leaving you in a messy heap on the bed.

 Oh, these sheets would have to go. Absolutely ruined, you thought mildly as the water in the bathroom began to run. Maybe Toshinori would carry you to the shower, seeing as your legs felt like jelly.

 You didn’t need to ask him though. He returned with a washcloth, wrung out with warm water and before you could say a word, he pressed it against your pussy. It was the most intimate thing you’d ever done- with any man, let alone the most prolific and feared villain in the world. Yet, here he was, cleaning you up after absolutely mind blowing sex.

 He glanced up at you, noting your awed, slack mouthed staring.

 He rolled his eyes.

 “I might be a jack ass, sweetheart, but I still have manners,” he informed you gruffly, rubbing softly between your legs to clean you up. You lay there and let him work, the cloth cooling rapidly and feeling wonderful on your heated, sweaty skin.

 He ran it over your abused thighs and then your stomach, wiping away the result of his orgasm with a stoic expression, and ignoring the giant fucking heart eyes you were sending in his direction. They could all say what they wanted about him. This villain. This man.

 They didn’t know him like you knew him.

 When he seemed satisfied that you were both clean, he helped you sit up and then crouched at the end of your bed- looking a little awkward for the first time ever. The tension was suddenly palpable between you, neither one of you knowing quite what to say to follow such a class act.

 He reached out, hooking a finger under your chin and lifting your face to his.

 “You want me to leave, kitten?” he asked huskily and your heart dropped hard like a stone.

 “What!? No!,” you said, before swallowing back your panic and steadying your voice. “I- I’d like it more if you stayed, I guess.”

 You slid your fingers over his wrist, then up to weave your fingers between his, examining the stark size difference between your hands. He watched your face all the while, eyes dark and unreadable.

 After a moment of silence, he said, “Alright then.”

 At long last, your eyes fell on his chest and your lips quirked, a smile spreading over your face. Reaching out and being careful not to touch them, you ghosted your fingertips over the red gash that had been the beginning of everything.

 To you, anyway.

 What he felt on the matter was still unclear, but his fingers laced with yours was promising.

 “Hey, they held up,” you said proudly, satisfied in the knowledge that despite the fact that you’d just ridden one of your patients, you were still pretty damn handy with a needle. And hey, doctor-patient relations were at an all time fucking high, let’s face it.

 “S’more than I can say for your headboard kitten,” he answered and, frowning at the strange answer, you turned your head. Your face dropped it’s lackadaisical, high expression.

 “Oh for fuck sake All Might!”

 That had been the creaking noise you’d heard earlier. You’d completely forgotten about it- busy being fucked into oblivion.

 He cackled wickedly and you didn’t get to properly survey the mangled, crushed frame of your headboard- because he was tackling you to the bed and laughing evilly into your neck. You’d thought that for once, a whole day would go by without him breaking something but… well, you couldn’t really blame him all that much right?

 It had been partially your fault.

 You snorted a laugh at last and he pressed your joined hands into the sheets above your head. Suddenly, you realised that he wasn’t laughing any more, staring at you instead with a deep intensity- the same kind he’d unleashed on you when he’d pulled your forehead to his.

 Much like then, butterflies came to life in your stomach, rendering you somewhat uncomfortable under the searching of his eyes. As expected, you defaulted to dumb humour in a lame attempt to hide your feelings.

 “What, do I have come on my face or something?”

 His lips quirked.

 “Not yet.”

 You tutted, making a noise halfway between amusement and annoyance.

 “No but for real, why are you looking at me like that? Not that I’m complaining or anything… A girl could get used to being looked at like that you know-” your babbling was abruptly cut off when his lips found yours in a soft, almost lazy kiss. The fire was still simmering inside you and you melted into it, your free arm coming up to wind around his neck.

 When he pulled back, he squeezed your hand- knowingly or not and you sighed in contentment.

 “What the fuck have you done to me, doll?” he asked, cocking his head at you. You didn’t have an answer for him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to-” he bit off the last sentence, looking irritated, almost angry at himself for saying too much. When those shadowed, piercing blue eyes met your again, you found that for once, you didn’t know what to fucking say either.

 There was so, so much that you wanted to.

 Me too? Thank you? I’m terrified every time I look at your stupid face because it makes me feel actual feelings?

 “Get attached?” you said instead, settling on the least crazy of all your other options and he looked away, up towards your hands- fingers still laced together much like your bodies had been. Still were, really.

 A muscle in his jaw ticked hard and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek to remind him that with you, judgement was a hard thing to come by.

 You kind of got it, anyway, being in the same boat and all. You weren’t exactly supposed to get attached to the most wanted man in the world. You weren’t supposed to be able to look past all of the bad parts, the violence and the anger and the crushing self loathing. You were never meant to have seen the man underneath, let alone feel anything for him.

 Having sex with him was like removing that last, invisible barrier that kept all these complicated, messy emotions in check. There was nothing to hide from each other now.

 You were falling for him. Hard. It both terrified and excited you in ways that you’d never felt before.

 He was having a whole fucking emotional rollercoaster of his own, it seemed.

 “Something like that, yeah,” he hedged, thumb sweeping across the back of your hand. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him and his eyebrow raised.

 “So, it’s exactly like that. Don’t be pedantic.”

 “Don’t be pedanti- are you fucking serious?” he spluttered, looking pissed off at your nonchalance. There was nothing like riling him up to get all of those emotions loose, after all. “I’m trying to be… Ah! I don’t fuckin’ know. What’s the word for stupid, emotional and weak?”

 “Heartfelt?”

 “Yeah. That’s the one,” he grunted, but he was half smiling when he said it. His face fell to your neck and whether it was to hide his expression or just to kiss your throat, you didn’t know.

 Apparently he was as useless as you were when it came to emotions.

 With your free hand, you traced patterns across the broad expanse of his shoulders. You didn’t want to push him- barely knew what to say yourself. He shifted his weight to the side after a moment, so that he wouldn’t crush you, settling heavily into the mattress beside you on his stomach.

 Wordlessly, he lifted his arm and you moved underneath it, curling against his side.

 “I kind of like it… you being attached,” you said honestly after a long, contemplative moment. Your fingers toyed with the hair on the back of his head and you didn’t expect him to answer you really. His hand brushed across your stomach.

 Laying there, relaxing in the afterglow, it was easy for sleep to tug at you despite the all encompassing ache you could feel.

 So, you almost jumped when he finally did speak.

 “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and grumpy and irritated as he always was. “I kinda like it too.”

 You smiled, twisting your head to press a kiss to his temple. He said nothing else and neither did you, simply letting the stroke of his fingers lull you away to blissful slumber.

 There was so much to say, so many things to work through and cope with and stress over- but, not right now. Right now, he was here in your arms and he wasn’t All Might. He wasn’t the monster the world condemned and feared- painted as a mindless beast to the masses.

 He was just Toshinori.

 And he was yours.

[isitbussinjanelle]

Raya and the princesses (This is a modern AU)

“Alright, follow me you two.”

A storm trooper leads Namaari, and Raya threw the business of ‘Oh My Disney!’. With Raya and Namaari being the newest Disney princesses, they now had to accompany the other prior princesses in their dressing room for online Disney events. For Raya, this experience was out of this world. With the song ‘Let it Go’ playing in the background while Star Wars ships zoom across the sky along with dumbo, she was overwhelmingly excited. She felt like a kid in a Candy store.

For Namaari however, this was something she struggled to find enjoying. Namaari loves peace and quiet when she has it and will often spend her time reading a book or reading a Fang legend to a bunch of Fang children when she doesn’t have sparring sessions or piles and piles of Fang documents and contracts to sign. Namaari followed alongside the storm trooper while keeping her hands very close to her sides to avoid touching one of the happy square-headed people roaming around. Namaari also happened to be claustrophobic, so this wasn’t helping whatsoever. But when Namaari took one glance at Raya beaming with enjoyment and her eyes glowing, she decided that maybe enjoying her time there wouldn’t be terrible.

“OMG NAMI!!” Raya yelped. Nami was one of Raya’s many nicknames for the fang princess.

“What? What is it?” Namaari said frantically.

“It’s THE buzz light year! THE BUZZ LIGHT YEAR NAMI! Can we please go say hi? I wanna give him my best impression of himself,” Raya said with pleading eyes.

With Namaari being Namaari, she obviously couldn’t say no, because its Raya for Christ sake.

“Ofco-,”

“No. You both are already late for preparation for the ‘Which Disney princess are you’ quizlet. Let’s go.” Barked the storm trooper. Damn, who spit in your congee? Raya wondered.

Raya looked back at Namaari with a, can you believe this asshat, Kind of look. Pursed her lips and rose her shoulders in a, it is what it is, kind of look. Namaari and Raya were great at reading each other like this. They did it all the time when they had fights.

After a few more stops with Raya’s stalling, and more of the storm troopers eyerolling (which you couldn’t tell because of his helmet but it was obvious), they eventually made it too the ‘cast members only’ section. There they found Nick wild, Grumpy the dwarf, tinker bell, and hei hei.

“Ahh ha ha, so these must be the new princesses,” Nick walks towards the trio of the storm trooper and the Kumandran princesses. His words trail off as he looks at them both up and down.

“I gotta ask- no poofy dresses? Whats that all about?” Nick asks, direction his attention towards raya, then Namaari.

“Nah, dresses make it way harder to beat Nami at sparring,” Raya responds as she shifts her wight to her right leg and crosses her arms in a cool way.

“Please- like you’ve ever beaten be binturi,” Namaari blushes and mimics rayas arm cross. Nick gags at the mini flirting session.

“well, gotta hand it to ya princess- I think I like you more without the dress. I guess I owe Flash 10 bucks.” Nick says as he sticks a lollipop in his mouth and puts his shades on and walks away.

“Did a fox just try and flirt with me?” Raya laughed. Namaari was a little mad that anyone except her would talk to Raya flirtatiously, but brushed it off.

“You two are running short on time. You, go through that door, and you through that one.” The storm trooper points at two doors that are directly across the hall from each other. Namaari and Raya find this odd, especially because they’re both princesses- shouldn’t they be in the same room?

Namaari goes off through her door while Raya is ushered by the Storm trooper to go through hers.

“What an ass.” Raya mumbled to herself.

The Moment Raya looks up, she is bombarded with the smell of perfume, and sweet sounds of angelic singing. Raya looks around at the beautifully designed room. She stares over at the other women in the room, primping each other’s hair or mingling amongst themselves. She straightens her hat. She saw one princess playing jump rope with two others. But the jump rope was…hair? Raya was confused. Raya begins to “walk” over too where the other princesses are but struggles to actually move her legs because she’s not great with people. Especially because she hasn’t had much interaction with them for 6 years. She starts rehearsing in her head good things to say to someone, like compliments, and asking, “How’s the weather today?”. Small talk. Raya hated the concept.

She eventually builds up the courage to stop standing in her own embarrassment and walk over to the princess area but fails as she lands back first on the floor. She slipped in something.

The princesses immediately notice this because Raya was quite dramatic about her fall when she did. She groaned in agony as a beautiful princess rushed towards her.

“Oh! Are you okay? I am truly sorry. Raja must have peed on the floor again. Bad kitty!” The princess scolds her giant cat- tiger that lays on the long blue couch. He cocks his head in confusion when he heard his name. He ignores her and licks his left paw.

“OMG. Are you the new princess? Guys! She’s the new princess!” Another princess rushes over. This girl has wet curly hair with a black and white pig by her side. All of the other princesses file in over Raya. They all begin to clap whilst a princess begins to sing angelically in celebration.

“FINALLY! I’ve been waiting for another badass warrior chick to show up. Sick sword girl! Where’d you get it” A girl with short straight black hair grabs raya by the arm and walks with her around the room.

“oh- thanks! It belongs to my Ba.” Raya says as the puts one arm behind her head in nervousness.

“Whats a Ba-“ A princess with long read hair and rosy cheeks asks with a head cock. She’s cut off by the next princess.

“Holy crap! How are you’re arms so muscly??” One of the princesses asks as she squishes raya’s biceps, which makes her highly uncomfortable. Raya begins to back away from the large crowd of girls- which was a mistake.

“Um- yeah I guess so…you should see My girlfr-“ Raya is cut off when she trips over something on the ground and lands on something warm and fury- Raja.

Raja growls and purrs at raya, but then begins to lick her because he senses her fear. Raya leaps up.

“Gah! Don’t hurt me orange serlot!” Raya exclaims as the goes into the sideways feat position on the ground.

“Raja, play nice!” Jasmine says. Raya couldn’t tell it was here as she was rolled up for the sake of her life.

“What’s a serlo-“The same princess from earlier who asked what a Ba was asked. Shes interrupted once more once an unexpected guest makes an appearance.

“Ride Like the wind ya big fur-bug!” A girl with curly red hair flys’ around the room on- Tuk Tuk? He was here! Meredith nocks over a bunch of chairs and startles Raja.

“Fur-bug? TUK TUK!” Raya gets up in relief to finally see a familiar face- a face with a big wet nose. Tuk Tuk stops rolling and galops over to Raya, much to Meredith’s disappointment. All of the other princesses share an “aww” as Raya nuzzles Tuk Tuk with her nose.

“Boo! I was having fun ey? He sure is quite a ride tho. Ought to give the lad that.” Meredith said as she shoulders bumped Aurora. Aurora clears her throat and steps away from Meredith slightly.

“Glad to see you bud!” Raya said. All of the other princesses gather around Raya and tuktuk, who are still near the door. She never got to get fully settled in after being bombarded with questions and perfume.

“Now lady’s, I think it’s about time we all gave the new gal a proper introduction.” Tiana says with her hands on her hips, gesturing her statement towards Mulan and Cinderella, who were the main ones who asked Raya questions. They both giggle in agreement.

All of the princesses introduce themselves and show raya their power if they have one, or just tell her about their past and how they became royalty. Raya listens to each of them in awe but gets distracted during a few of the short speeches only to be wondering how Namaari was doing in the other room. She hoped Namaari was okay. They last few minutes mostly consisted of years and uh-huhs from Raya’s side as she listened to all of the princesses’ backstories. After a while, the very last princess told Raya about her backstory.

“And that’s how I saved the world with my good friend Maui, shape shifter, demigod of the wind and- “Moana goes on but gets cut off.

“Okay but for real, for once just say Maui and drop the formalities.” Anna groaned with impatience as she twirled her red strands of hair.

“Hey, I gotta give my man his credit. Put some respect on his name, you know?” Moana says all hyped up. Mulan screams “PERIOD” from across the room as she sharpens her sword. Pocahontas rolls her eyes at the childish ness.

“Period is so old now Mulan- no one says it anymore,” Pocahontas says.

“You right you right… SHEEEEEEESH” Mulan says as she connects two fingers to the crease of her forearm. She bits her lips and widens her leg stance. Moana dies of laughter at this.

“Maui does that all the time and its so fricking annoying,” Moana says. Raya laughs at all of this; she felt like she almost found her place. Raya loved making others laugh and enjoyed doing it in the form of 10-year-old boy humor. She was glad that these girls matched her energy.

“Guy’s, were kinda getting off track- New girl. How did you become a Disney princess? Who’s your prince? Or were you already born into nobility?” Tiana asks as she brushed Rapunzel’s long gold strands.

Raya pursed her lips. She hated speaking in front of large crowds. She was never the best at presenting school projects in her child days and doesn’t enjoy it now either. One of the many reasons why she is in no hurry to become Chief of Heart. Raya suddenly notices all eyes on her. Oh shit, they actually want me to speak? Fuck no-

“Um…” Raya starts. “Well, I guess I was born into nobility. My father is chief of my homeland Heart, a land in Kumandra,” she said nervously as she looked down and played with dead skin on her finger.

“And as for a prince- I don’t have one? I have a girlfriend named Namaari whos’ a princess of Fang, another land in Kumandra…” Raya noticed all of the princesses staring at her in awe and interest. Even belle put down her book once the Heart land princess mention a female love interest.

“Yeah…We kind of went from enemies to lovers. She sorts of stabbed me in the back when we were kids and caused our world to face 6 years of apocalypse,” Raya Gained some confidence s=once she realized her audience was enjoying her story. “But eventually I had to realize that maybe putting my faith in Namaari was the only thing that could save us. Kumandra. When the druun, which was the cause of the apocalypse, was closing in on me, Namaari, a baby named Noi, A buff winter soldier named Tong, and one hell of a cook named Boun, I decided that the only way to get us out of there was to use the one thing sisu wanted us to do; trust each other. I put my faith in Namaari, and she came through. And she has ever since.”

Raya finished. She looked around to see the other princesses gathers around her on their stomachs with their chins on their hands like little preschoolers.

“Woah.” They all said.

“Damn girl! That’s some powerful shit!” Mulan said as the rapped an arm around Raya’s shoulder in approval. Mulan was slightly taller that Raya, about Namaari’s height. Raya smiled sweetly as the other princesses Hollard in agreement.

“So how did you find all of these people? Noi, Tong, all of them?” Jasmine asked. She was sitting on her magic carpet with Raja purring by her side.

“Oh! I kinda scooped them up with me along the way. You see, I had to travel to each of the four kingdoms, Fang, Talon, Spine, and Tail to get these gem pieces that would save the world. I found Boun in Tail- He was my getaway driver-“

“From whom? Were the druun chasing you?” Elsa asked eagerly.

“Namaari. Namaari was chasing after me because…Actually, I had no idea why. Before she was chasing me, I had just gotten a Gem piece from Tail. Namaari showed up out of no where all of a sudden and mention something about the dragon scroll that I stole from Fang, which was useless to her which makes me wonder why she needed it; She was also holding my hair pin which is also kinda odd- “

“I KNOW WHY! SHE LOVED YOU RAYA WERE YOU BLIND? WHY ELSE WOULD SHE KEEP YOUR HAIR PIN THINGY?” Belle jumped up in excitement. She felt like this was some kind of good book.’

“Nah, it wasn’t love. I think Namaari wanted to get RIPPED TONIGHT-“Mulan shouted as the fake flexed her arms.

“RIP THAT PUSSY AYYEE!” Moana moved her arms and hips to copy the Tiktok trend. Aurora pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned at the immaturity. Raya was Hot red and covered her face to hide it- did Namaari actually like her at the time? I guess it would make sense, seeing as how Namaari always called her Dep la, which meant strangely beautiful.

“Ladies! Let her finish!” Tiana snapped. Raya could tell that Tiana was the mom of the group.

“Anywas, after I found Boun in Tail, I picked up baby noi in Talon, where she conned me- she faked cried so she could steal my gem piece,” Raya shook her head in laughter at the memory.

“That baby new what was up.” Pocahontas chimed in.

“I eventually caught her and her gang of Ongis and helped her earn some honest loot by helping me get the gem piece from the chief of Talon.” Raya concluded.

“We took Noi with us and went to spine, where tong captured me and sisu, and the gem pieces. Tuk tuk, Boun, Noi and the Ongis thankfully came to our rescue, but that was exactly when Namaari showed up in spine.” Raya said.

“Yes! More Namaari moments! Did you guys kiss?” Moana asked eagerly.

“Oh, they totally did more than that moana.” Mulan said with her eyebrows quirked and her arms crossed.

“Shut up! We didn’t do anything! She actually beat my ass.” Raya should choose better wording.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” All of the princesses squealed, except for Meredith, who was busy trying to stop tuk tuk from eating cold beignets Tiana had made so they could go on another joyride.

“NO WAY. NO WAY. YALL DID? SHE DID? PERIOD NAMAARI AHHHH YESSSS!!” Mulan was jumping on the couch in happiness. Raya was blushing so hard that she had steam coming out of her ears.

“Uh, g-guys? If “Beat my ass” means what I think it means, then I think Eric might have beaten mine last night…” Ariel said with a blush. Mulan, moana and Pocahontas had their jaws wide open. Cinderella had her hand over her mouth to try and hold back her laugh.

“ARIEL! YOU NAUGHTY GIRL! I DIDN’T KNOW ERIC HAD IT LIKE THAT! WAS IT GOOD THOUGH?” Moana asked loudly, hoping eric would hear from across the hall. Ariel nodded. Ariel was known at the innocent one of the groups, so this was a huge shock to everyone.

“Same Ariel! Naveen gave it to me good last night if you know what I’m saying…” Tiana said as she poked her lips out. Moana and Mulan couldn’t help but squeal. Raya was on the ground dying laughing with Pocahontas at what Tiana said.

For the next few minutes, the girls all went on rants about their sex life, except for the ones with know love interest. They laughed a whole lot that day. Raya felt lightheaded the entire time she was there due to laughing.

Eventually, the girls decided to settle down and all watch the Lion king. Mulan made the popcorn, while Belle gathered the drinks. Raya had never seen the lion king before because this was her first time actually watching a movie with friends. The movie was great, but the loud commentary about the movie made by mostly moana and Mulan was even better, and the other princess agreed to this with laughter. During the Hakuna Matata scene, Mulan played Timone, and Moana was Pumba, while Raya tried her best to copy Simba’s lines for the mini skit.

“WHEN HE WAS A YOUNG WART HOG,” Mulan sang badly.

“WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WART HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGG!” Moana sang worse, which made the other princesses laugh.

The other princess enjoyed this. Raya didn’t that much, because she had to eat jello and pretend it was the bug Simba ate in the movie.

“WHAT IS THIS TEXTURE?” Raya shouted with a mouth full of goo. Jasmine died laughing from Raya’s response, along with Aurora.

“EAT IT YOU PUSSY!” Mulan shouted, breaking character.

All of the girls got emotional during the, can you Feel the Love tonight song. The all sang in harmony, except for raya because she didn’t know the song. Raya did however cry during the scene where Simba and Scar fought on pride rock and Simba almost died multiple times.

“NO NOT SIMBA!” Raya shouted at the screen.

“Don’t worry, he lives.” Meredith shouted from across the room, still trying to get tuk tuk up.

Raya Couldn’t help but enjoy the time she had they’re with the princesses. She felt at home. Obviously not like Kumandra, for that will always be her home, but she felt like she found her people. Namaari usually tool Raya’s jokes to seriously, or just pinched her the bridge of her nose and chuckle when Raya mad 10-yearold boy humor. Raya was just finally glad to find some girls who were wild like her.

After the movie ended, the girls clapped and cheered.

“Hey, didn’t when have a Disney princess quizlet to attend?” Elsa asked. Everyone else shrugged and ignored it. They actually didn’t have anything to attend, because as we know, ralph broke the internet, so nobody was able to go online and take the quiz.

“Quick question for you Raya- Is Boun Single, I mean, a man that can cook; that’s what I need” Moana said as she pointed to nothing.

“Preach.” Mulan commented.

“MOANA BOUN IS 10- DID I KNOW MENTION THAT?!” Raya said. All of the other girls busted out laughing.

“…I mean…A six year age difference is that-“

“MOANA OF MOTONUI!” Tiana shouted as she threw a pillow at moana. The other girls couldn’t help but laugh. Raya was going to have a fun time with these girls.

Credit: @gioistrying

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 13 - MASK

major tw! // panic attack scene, cursing, mild verbal abuse

----

Natasha's grip on me was firm and her gaze on the back of my head was unwavering. My feet moved before me, heading towards whatever direction she shoved me to. She put me in handcuffs the moment she laid her hands on me, but frankly, I don't blame her.

"You punch a bag full of iron everyday or something?" I quipped, taking yet another turn with her less than gentle push.

"What?"

"Your grip. It's not exactly a wonderful experience."

"Huh." I could basically hear the eye-roll in her voice, "No, just a bag of linoleum. It's lighter."

Thrown aback by her quick retort, I snickered delightfully. Who knew Natasha Romanoff could make me laugh a little?

"Well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"Look at you, quoting Nietzsche." Her grip on me grew tighter. "Then maybe you won't mind if I do this, right? Doubt it'll kill you."

I winced, barely, but it was there and I had a feeling she noticed it. "I wish it would."

We stopped before a dark blue door, and she punched in a code at the keypad attached to the wall beside it before pressing a big red button. I heard a click sound and Natasha pushed the door ajar.

I stared at the room before me. It looked like...well, a room.

"What? No cell for me?"

She raised an eyebrow interrogatively and sighed, "Your cell is unfortunately under repair. Sorry, but you'll have to make yourself at home here now, Your Majesty."

I smirked, "Eh, I guess I'll make do. It's not too shabby."

She led me inside and locked the door behind us. I looked around almost automatically, scanning the area. The room was a little small, but it wasn't claustrophobic. There was a single bed attached to the floor by the corner with white sheets and a white pillow over it, a chair also attached to the floor and another door that left me no clue of what it would open to...a closet maybe?

No windows. No vents.

"You're not going to find it." Natasha's voice cut through the silence, slicing through it heavily like a blunt knife. "Your escape."

I looked over my shoulder to see her standing with her arms crossed, "I wasn't looking for an escape."

"Thought you were done with lying?" I sensed the beguilement in her tone.

I shook my head slightly, "I was just wondering why you brought me to this...room."

"This isn't a room. It's a cell."

A cell? This comfortable? "Ha-ha. You're hilarious."

"Yeah, I am. But I wasn't making a joke, this is a cell."

Holy shit, S.H.I.E.L.D must be flowing with money and extreme stupidity for them to keep their prisoners this comfortable. "Where I come from, we don't give the bad guys cells that look like these."

I saw her shrug out of the corner of my eye. "It depends on who's the bad guy we're talking about. Plus, we rarely have to put anyone in these cells." She didn't have to say it for me to know what she meant. They don't bring back prisoners.

"Well, yippee, it's my lucky day." I deadpanned.

Natasha had been staring at me the whole time. I turned to face her fully, daring her to make eye-contact. But the redhead continued to stare, unaffected.

"Hydra left quite the dent. Turned half of this building inside out."

"Sounds like em'."

"Your cell took a big hit. They blew a hole right through it, through the walls."

I froze. Did they know I was supposed to be there? Did he...come here to kill me?

On sight?

"They were looking for you, I assume."

My gaze dropped from her eyes to the floor, staring at my blood-covered shoes. Why is it that every time I think about him I cower in fear like a fool? I'm far from a coward. I hate the fact that even just the thought of that...monster, puts me in distress. I feel like a child again, and not the woman I am now.

Natasha was observing me, prompting me to answer with the intensity of her gaze. But I didn't have any answers to give.

"Sit down."

I looked up at her, only to find her pointing at the metal chair in the corner.

"Sit." She repeated, and I followed without question. I had no upper-hand here, and I didn't really want to have it. As soon as I landed my ass on the chair, she gripped my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. What is it with this woman and eye-contact?

"If you try anything at all, I won't hesitate to kill you. You know that." She emphasised the last part. "You said you wanna stay alive? Then don't do anything stupid."

I nodded once, lips pursed. She proceeded to walk behind me to free me from my handcuffs.

Time seemed to slow down as I thought of a hundred different ways to knock her out right now. Maybe it wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't impossible. I could jump up and kick her in the face, or maybe toss myself backwards and grab her gun from her holster, shoot her from behind. I could kick her legs from below her and smother her with the pillow, or use my handcuffs to choke her to death. Or I could just throw a really, really good punch.

But she was right. I wanted to stay alive.

So, I sat still.

She uncuffed me and as soon as she did, she grabbed me by the elbow and ushered me to the mysterious door. She entered in a code at a keypad beside it, much like before, and pushed the door open to reveal a small bathroom.

"Go. Take a shower. There's a change of clothes ready for you on the counter."

I stared, dumbfounded. "I've only just agreed to work with you guys just a few minutes ago and you're already trusting me to take a shower without trying anything?"

She shrugged, "There's nothing useful in there. No sharp objects, no vents large enough anyone to fit through and the mirror isn't breakable glass. You try to escape, alarms will blare out and the oxygen in there will be cut-off immediately. So, either you die in there by suffocating, or you die when I come in and shoot you in the head. I don't trust you, but I do trust our system."

Figures. Stark Tech.

"FRIDAY's monitoring you too, thermal sensors. Now, go. Before I make you."

She didn't have to tell me a third time.

As expected, she locked the door behind me as soon as I went in. I stepped out of my bloody shoes and I stripped down my bloody clothes. It's funny how spent my whole life on this job, surrounded with nothing but murder and gore and yet I still get tired of seeing blood on myself every time. As if I could avoid it.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror–true to Natasha's word, it was far from fragile–and I ran my fingers across my face and through my hair. I had blood, bruises and dust all over me, like I've always had all my life. But I didn't recognise the woman in the mirror. She wasn't me.

But who was I really?

I've kept on this appearance for too long. It was a disguise that was growing old. It felt like a mask that was slowly melting onto my face, and it was asphyxiating me, burning the skin underneath it.

I've never worn a disguise for this long. This wasn't me. This was Lisa. Or was it Yvonne? Katya, Mila, Eve? I felt an odd sensation taking me under, almost like I was drowning. I felt myself tearing up, but I couldn't feel anything but...panic. Rising in my chest, expanding like a balloon. This was a familiar feeling, a problem I've had for far too long, but I never really knew how to solve it.

And then it all started to sink in, and it was like my body decided to finally register the pain that had built up over the last few days. But my mind wasn't along for the ride. I was hurt all over but mentally, I was numb. Or was it too much for me to handle?

The same question kept burning at the back of my head and it was all I could do not to scream and pull my hair out.

Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?

I wanted to sink to the ground and pull my knees to my chest until my brain stopped screaming at me, but I couldn't afford to have a mental breakdown in a S.H.I.E.L.D bathroom made for prisoners. It wasn't exactly like I had all the time in the world.

I ran the back of my hand over my cheeks, wiping the tears that I hadn't even cared to realise were falling. God, I looked like a helpless, pathetic thing. Felt like one too.

I stepped into the shower, turning the knob to the coldest setting and let it flow over me, desperately hoping it would wash everything including the pain away.

Am I not as strong as I was before? I've gone through so much to keep myself alive and away from them. From him. Had it all been for nothing? I've thrown myself at the hands of a secondary enemy. It was a desperate decision, but a necessary one.

But was it really? Was it worth it?

I shook my head, splashing more cold water to my face. I couldn't lose my mind right now. Not when I've already put my guard down. Why do I feel so helpless? Why do I feel like I'm making the wrong decision? Why do I feel like I'm slowly falling apart, piece-by-piece, and I don't even realise it's happening to me? Why do I feel like...a failure?

Please, God, please...don't let me lose my mind.

———

"Have you lost your mind?"

A click of a gun. The stomping of his boots.

"I was only trying to do what you told me to do."

A pair of furious eyes, always the same blue ones. They're always either angry, stoic or blank.

"You are not supposed to fail. I did not tell you to fail."

The mission wasn't supposed to go the way it did. The plan went askew but I completed the job, I checked off my requirements. What did I do wrong?

"I didn't fail."

He slammed his fist onto the table next to us, growling. I shouldn't have said that.

"You shot one of them in the shoulder. Did you miss your aim, agent?"

Fuck. "No, I did not sir."

"So, you did it on purpose?"

I messed up. I messed up. "I...I was-"

"You were careless." He sneered, eyes boring into me as I quickly averted my gaze to the floor. "You were negligent. You left someone alive."

I didn't dare move a muscle. He turned around, his back facing me.

"The order was 'to leave no trace'. You did exactly the opposite. Hydra does not stand for failure."

"I understand, sir. But please-"

He whipped his head around to stare at me. His movements were always so robotic, just like his voice. It was always unnerving. The look in his eyes sent a chill down my spine, and it took everything in me not to scream and make a dash for the door.

"Why."

I gulped. "Why?"

"Why did you not shoot him in the head?"

I shut my eyes, blinking furiously at the memory. It was a reckless decision, one that was idiotic and inadequate. He begged me for his life. 'Wife and 2 kids' he said. I don't know why I did it. I don't understand why I let myself do it. I acted like a spineless fool.

"He wanted mercy." I whispered, knowing that it was going to cost me.

"Mercy?" He uttered the words like they were foreign, the two syllables coming out of his mouth with complete and utter disgust. "Mer-cy?"

I nodded once. "I understand I made the wrong decision."

He seemed to process it in his head for a while. Then after only a second or two, he straightened his back and broadened his shoulders. There it was again, the robotic movements.

I watched in horror as he turned around and announced to the room, walking away with his boots stomping under him, a noise I've always dreaded ever since I met him.

"It seems you are not fit yet for missions, agent. Take her to her cell. I will report this immediately."

The cell? No, no, no...not the cell. Please. "Sir. I apologise for my misbehaviour, sir. I'll do better on my next mission, just, please don't put me back in my cell."

He didn't turn around. I never expected him to, every time this happened. But my voice had a mind of it's own and it always seemed to escape me. How could I expect for him to show me mercy if he condemned me for it?

I wanted to scream and kick and cry. I didn't want to go back to my cell. I couldn't. I fought against the arms that bound themselves around me, dragging me to hell. "Please! I promise. I won't fail next time. It was a mistake-"

"You should shut up." The agent man-handling me muttered under his breath.

The agent was right. The soldier didn't appreciate begging. I should shut up, but I couldn't stand the thought of being back in there. I let out a guttural scream. "Sir. Sir, please!"

He didn't look back, never did. I watched helplessly as he shut the door behind him. The glint of his metal arm was the last thing that blinded me before the darkness did.

[fireinmywoods]

You've mentioned before that Bones pretty much never calls Jim anything but "Jim." Do you think it's significant that at his birthday party, Bones has everyone toast to "Captain James T. Kirk," and not to "Jim"?

Well, he’s not “Jim” to all those folks, is he?

Sure, during informal downtime like this or a Meaningful Moment while on duty, one of the captain’s inner circle might occasionally call him by his given name - but Leonard knows at the party that he’s speaking to a room full of people who look at James Tiberius Kirk and see their captain first.

Oh, granted, he’s their much adored captain: the captain who traded his life for theirs, the captain they’d gladly follow into hell because he’s proven that he has what it takes to get them out the other side. Any one of the people in that room would jump in front of a phaser blast for him. (In fact, Uhura effectively did just that earlier in the movie.) They admire him; they trust him with their lives; they are fiercely devoted to him. They love him, each in their own way - the senior crew especially - and they know that he loves them in return.

But none of them love Jim the way Leonard does.

They couldn’t if they wanted to, because none of them know Jim like Leonard does. The crew has been through a whole hell of a lot with their revered captain, but Leonard is the one who’s seen him at his worst, at his weirdest, at his lowest and loneliest and most unguarded. He alone has scraped Jim off bar floors and put him to bed on the couch under his granny’s quilt to sleep it off and been awoken the next morning by the melodious sound of hangover puking in the head. He alone has stuck steadfastly by Jim’s side since the day he met the already disreputable bar brawler on the shuttle, took in the busted face and the bloodstained shirt and the small empty smile that didn’t reach those absurdly blue eyes, and decided they were two of a kind. He alone devoted himself to Jim long before that was a popular or even justifiable thing to do, before Jim had proven himself to Starfleet or his peers, before it became unmistakably clear that Jim Kirk was going to Be Somebody.

Leonard loves Jim in a different way than his fellow crew members do, shares a different kind of bond with him, and he’s a touch protective of that love and that bond. I wrote recently that Jim mostly refers to Leonard as Dr. McCoy to the rest of the crew because Bones isn’t really for anyone else. Well, the same holds true in the other direction. Leonard sees only Jim when he looks at him, always, no matter the situation, but he’s not necessarily eager to share him with the rest of the class. The crew can have Captain James T. Kirk, so long as Leonard never loses Jim.

+

Consider this: Jim’s birthday isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone on the Enterprise knows that Jim was born the same day as his father’s famously heroic sacrifice, the same day as an historic event they literally study at the Academy. Every idiot in Starfleet knows that date, at least in the abstract. But Leonard is the only one who understands Jim’s complex relationship with his father’s memory, because Leonard is the only one Jim’s ever been willing to open up to about it. So it’s Leonard who makes a point of acknowledging Jim’s birthday even though he knows from all their years of shared history that Jim would have him ignore it, and it’s Leonard to whom Jim ruminates on what it means for him to be turning 30, and it’s Leonard who says to him: “You spent all this time trying to be George Kirk, and now you’re wondering just what it means to be Jim.”

Leonard cares more than anyone else on the crew about Jim finding the answer to that question, because it’s always been Jim he’s concerned with first and foremost. He’d follow him anywhere - hell, death itself, or even (shudder) New Vulcan - not so much because he trusts him as a captain, but because he wants to be where Jim is. If Jim were to decide to leave the great Captain Kirk behind and instead take on the role of a vice-admiral or an Academy instructor or a goddamn pig farmer, Leonard would be right behind him, grumbling the whole way and death-glaring anyone who suggested he didn’t actually have to follow Jim’s lead if he was so aggrieved about it.

Not that that’s likely to happen any time soon. Jim is an outstanding starship captain: it’s a role perfectly suited to his strengths and passions, and (outside of the odd existential crisis) it’s deeply fulfilling and gives him both the community and the sense of purpose he’s been chasing his whole life. Leonard understands that even better than Jim does; thus the party. But at the end of the day, captaincy is only a role, a means to an end, and Leonard is far more devoted to the man than to the chair. He just wants Jim to be happy - and to be happy, he just wants Jim.

+

I want to be clear that in no way am I seeking to devalue the relationships Jim has with all the other folks at the party. The Enterprise crew is a textbook case of found family, and Jim and Leonard both have incredibly rich and meaningful relationships with many other people. And at the end of the day, they are a family which exists because they are a crew, because they’re stuck with each other for (at minimum) five long, crazy, claustrophobic years, because they have been through no end of shit together, because their bonds and sense of shared identity are what keep them alive and sane and kicking ass as the very finest crew in the Fleet.

And, like many families, they will change, grow, and scatter over the years. Alone or in pairs, crew members will take promotions, accept new assignments, or retire from active starship duty. Many of them will prioritize remaining with these people on this ship for as long as they can, but eventually even Captain Kirk himself will leave the command chair, and life and duty for his hundreds of former crew will go on. The core group will almost certainly come back together occasionally, professionally and otherwise, but in the times between, their bonds be stretched across lightyears, a little muted and faded by the immediacy of daily life. Everyone is the hero of their own story, after all, and those stories will take them through new places and new adventures and new relationships and, yes, new families too.

Jim and Leonard are a different kind of family. They became that for each other long before they came onboard the Enterprise, and the essence of their relationship is unaffected by pesky details of rank or mission. Leonard will never accept reassignment or seek advancement if it means going somewhere without Jim. He’s a doctor, not a ladder-climber, and he’s never been especially passionate about Starfleet or its mandate. He’ll stay on the Enterprise as long as Jim does, and when Jim leaves, he’ll follow him wherever he goes next. Simple as that.

(I have a...complicated...relationship with the comics, but I’d be remiss not to note here that of all Jim’s tight-knit and loyal crew, Leonard is the one who ships out with him on the Endeavour in the Boldly Go comics - even taking a demotion to do so - not long after the birthday party in question.)

+

You may have noticed that I haven’t even touched on the capital-L Love aspect of things. The birthday party is pre-paradigm shift, by my reckoning, and I honestly believe that all of the above holds true whether or not you imagine that they are inevitably headed toward romance. Leonard and Jim’s relationship is just different in AOS. Their friendship is older and deeper and more exclusive than in the original timeline. They’ve grown together in every way, become more integral to each other’s sense of self. They are simply different people than their TOS counterparts, Jim especially, and I’d argue that Jim being a different person has made Leonard a different person along the way.

But, as I so often say, that’s a post for another day.

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Unfortunately it happened

A short story about two of my ocs that I've been writing for a while, please read the trigger warnings carefully before proceeding to the story.

Genre: magical realism with hints of psychological horror.

Word count: 4293 words.

Tw: Abuse, domestic abuse, past abuse, ptsd, hallucinations, claustrophobic scenes, blood, glass shards, mild sexual scene, possible sexual assault, disrespecting the boundaries of an autistic child, abandonment issues.

If there are any more possible trigger warnings that I didn't write, please let me know.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The thick warm blood irregularly dripped onto the rotting floor as Theodore tried to wrestle out the large glass shard that was lodged deep in his skull. He knew that pulling it out would only cause him to bleed more, but he had no other choice, his body just wouldn't heal around it. It's not like he could even go to a hospital. They ask questions there. Too many questions. He hissed in pain, fingers slipping over the smooth, wet surface, making the job ten times harder than what it already was.

Fear and pain overwhelmed his senses to the point where he couldn't even hear the squeaks of the wooden planks that normally annoyed him to no end. He only noticed that someone was in the small room with him when a pair of tiny pale feet stopped right infront of him.

"Stay back baby, there's glass on the floor." He let his hand fall down, the stubborn shard finally dislodged from his forehead, "Go back to your room, I'm okay." The obvious lie slipped through his blooded lips like smooth butter, if there was something Theodore excelled exceptionally at, it was lying with confidence so great that you would believe him over your very own eyes.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran asked meekly, shoulders tense and lips pouty, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his favourite shirt violently enough to tear the delicate embroidery his dad had spend countless hours on.

Theodore lifted his head, his tired eyes taking in the heart wrenching sight of the boy he grew to call his son. Fran's whole body was trembling, his small fingers red and bruised from unconsciously fighting with the thread, his nose was swollen, the skin around his eyes was puffy. It was clear as day that the little boy had been crying for a while now.... probably since the fight started.

"Franny," Theo started softly, "I'm alright now. It's over, okay? Just go to your room, I'll follow you in a bit. Promise."

But the little vampire didn't budge, his cold feet planted firmly on the floor, lips forming a thin line accompanied by a deep frown barely hidden by loose white curls. Theodore sighed, he wanted so badly to hold his son's hands and carry him back to his room like he did every night before, but he was scared if he'd moved even an inch more he'd tear his shirt even further, revealing more bruises and cuts, subsequently traumatizing the boy more. So he stayed put.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran repeated.

"Baby you know I-"

"WHY DON'T YOU STOP HIM?!"

The abrupt outburst took Theodore by surprise, making him flinch back on the bed. His wide blue eyes were chaotic as they searched the smaller one's face for any ounce of sympathy. It was silly, really, to be looking for such emotions in a clearly overwhelmed and traumatized kid, but Theo couldn't help himself, couldn't help the fear that was eating away at him, one angry word at a time.

"I know you can, Teddy. You used to stand up to daddy! And he was a VAMPIRE!" Fran said with a bit of pride in his voice, "You know what? I think we should go back to living with him! Maybe Elliot is waiting for us there! And the-"

"Elliot left. He isn't waiting for us anywhere, he doesn't want us anymore." Theodore shrunk back to himself when he noticed the amount of venom in his voice, "Besides Franny, you know I'll never let him hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you." He tried giving the most reassuring smile he could muster with the dull ache in his bruised cheeks.

Fran was silent for a long, dreadful second before hot tears raced down his face, "You can't even protect yourself..."

That sentence was like a punch to the gut. He never thought about the consequences that their constant fighting had on his son. He thought, no, he made himself believe that as long as Fran was in no immediate physical danger, everything was okay. It almost frightened him just how much he was willing to ignore and sweep under the rug just to let himself feel like a good father.

"I don't feel safe here... I'm scared." Fran sniffled, "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and-and find you dead!" It was getting harder for the little vampire to speak as the tears kept flowing, "Or.. or  that you would... would just leave me here like Elliot did... or.. or yo-" violent sobs wrecked his body, forbidding him from finishing his sentence.

Theodore was lost. He promised Rouge and Elliot.. fuck those two, he promised himself that he would give Fran the best life possible, and yet here he is... shaking and wailing helplessly... He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. But what? What could he do?

What would dad have done? Dad wouldn't let himself be in this fucking situation. But if he was ... what would he have done?? Theodore's hands were now shaking uncontrollably as he tried to think of an answer. He would've pulled me close. Held me tight in his arms and told me that he'll keep me safe no matter what. That everything will be okay. Yes. Yes... that's what he would've done.

And so he reached forward, taking the now bloodied tiny hands in his and pulling Fran into his arms, holding the sobbing boy as tight as he could.

But the truth is. What his father would've done is vastly different that what Theodore should've done. Because in that moment of pure loss and desperation, he forgot one crucial detail... Fran can't handle being touched. Especially not being hugged.

Fran yanked himself backwards with powers unnatural to him, his body was sent flying until he hit the floor with a loud thud that almost made Theodore's heart stop, but to the boy, anything was better then being held like that.

"Franny... I'm so sorry... I forgo-" Before he could finish his sentence, the vampire was on his feet and running out the room. His loud footsteps quickly fading into nothingness before the deafening slam of a door shook the old house to it's core.

Theodore let himself fall back on the bed, sending small dust particles flying all over him and irritating his allergies. He quickly placed a hand over his nose to stop himself from inhaling any of that dust, he can't afford having his brains ooze out his wounds if he sneezed.

His eyes closed before he could decide otherwise. It's okay... it will be okay.. he'd probably gone to bed now, I should do that too. Tomorrow will be different, it will be better, I'll make some scrambled eggs and bacon.. wait no, Fran is a vegetarian you idiot, he doesn't eat that shit!... fuck. I can make uh... grilled cheese sandwiches.. yeah he'll surely like that....

But deep down Theodore knew that he isn't a kid that can go to bed when he is tired or in pain anymore, he is an adult now, with a kid of his own and all the responsibilities that come with it..

The obnoxious sound of the sports channel blaring from the living room and the rhythmic pouring of rain on the window along with phantom barking of a distant dog were like a hammer smashing into Theodore's head over and over again. Every little sound was cranked up to a hundred, even his own heartbeating was agonizing.

He forced his body to sit back up, becoming face to face with the long mirror nailed to the wall which seemed to be closing in on him. Theodore instinctively pushed himself backwards until his back hit the cold wall as the room began fold in on itself until the mirror was nearly touching his feet. He wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to ground himself as his claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing quickened to a painful degree.

He forced his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the walls that were now touching every inch of him. And his thoughts drifted back to the only place they could... Is it possible Franny is scared like this now? He feels unsafe.. he said that himself.. I can't just leave him alone in his room until the next sunset... that's not what dad would've done.. that's..that's what mom did... leave me alone and ignore me when I needed her most then pretend nothing happened the next day... that's what I was going to do...

The thought made his eyes shoot open only to be faced with her image in the mirror, blue eyes staring down at him with familiar disappointment. His blood boiled. He is becoming her! Repeating the cycle of neglectful abuse and torment until noone survives. In a moment of blind rage he balled his fist and swiftly moved to shatter the mirror and all the pain it was causing, but he found himself slammed to the floor, bloody knuckles causing a dent in it... it seems as tho the wall was still as far away as it always had been.

He stayed there for a moment, tears pouring down unapologetically as he tried to compose himself. He soon found enough willpower to stand up, but before he could take a step forward, sharp pain shot up straight to his head, forcing him to grab onto the nearest wall for balance.

Once the pain dulled down enough for him to be able to open his eyes, he looked down at the apparent source, only to see that his right ankle had doubled in size, blue and swollen as if there was a tennis ball underneath the skin. He rested the back of his head on the window, feeling the cold droplets of rain leaking through and falling on his cheeks.

He sighed, he would heal, he always did. But it would take time, and unlike Silas, this fucker never cared for him after beating him up. Theodore chuckled to himself, never in a million years did he think he would use Silas as a positive example for anything, goes to show just how low his life had sunk.

Nevertheless, he needs to persist, not for himself but for the little vampire that depended on him.

He thought about taking a quick shower to wash off all the blood, but something told him not to, to just check on Fran as soon as possible, and Theodore's gut feeling had never failed him before, so he always followed it, even if he knew that his son was safe in his bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Theo had spent all his money on. He smiled, remembering how Franny's eyes twinkled when he first saw the bee pattern on it. Oh how he wishes he would see him this happy every second of every day.

Still smiling, he managed to take off the ripped shirt without aggravating his injuries too much. He held the black tee in his hands, staring at the bright neon pink "Angel♡" written on it in a metal font with the white signature of the singer along the neck.

He got this shirt 2 years back when he went to the live performance, Angel wasn't even the main performer back then, they were merely the opening act. Given how small they were, they didn't have a signing booth, it was actually pure luck that Theodore managed to meet them outside while they were waiting for a taxi.

And he thought that Rouge was tall! Angel was at least eight feet, to the point where he felt like a little cat after cranking his neck up so high just to be able to see their face, and what a truly terrifying face it was! Almost nightmarish with their black bug eyes and their long pointy teeth! But they were nice, maybe a bit blunt and lacking a social filter, but after being with Fran for a while, Theodore got used to unwanted comments... wait.. Fran... now THAT is what he was here to do!

He immediately put his favourite shirt down on a nearby wooden chair, promising to fix the rip the moment he can carry something as delicate as a needle without his hands shaking and dropping it, he threw on an oversized sweater that used to belong to Elliot, a pair of ghost patterned pyjama pants and made his way to the corridor.

Theodore was still grabbing onto the walls as he limbed his way to the door covered in stickers, it was slightly ajar which was strange considering that Fran had slammed it, but with how rusted the hinges are, anything is possible. He slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dark room, noticing how the moonlight softly illuminated the blanket-covered lump on the bed.

He should be happy? Maybe relieved? But instead, all he could feel is the bile rising to his throat, and he just couldn't tell why, perhaps he was just anxious about the impending talk. Yes. It must be that.

Theodore slowly stepped toward the small bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on it. "Hey Franny..." no answer, "It's me Teddy," again, nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his aching neck, "listen I came here to apologise, and I... are you asleep??" He pulled down the blanket only to see that it was only a group of plushies in the vague shape of a kid.

Adrenaline shot through his body making him forget all about his pain and injuries as he quickly opened the closet, looked under the bed, tore the covers from the bed. Yet.... Fran is nowhere to be seen.

"FRAN!" Theodore yelled at the top of his lungs, "FRAAAANN!" He stood aimlessly in the little room filled with the missing boy's trinkets and drawings, his breath so fast he could hear it as he impatiently waited for an answer, "Baby where are you?!"

He could feel the little plushies staring at him, knowing where his baby is but not telling him, they don't want Fran to go back to being with such a horrible father. Theodore grabbed his son's favourite one, a large fluffy bee he had won for him during a passing carnival. He forcefully held it, his fingers smearing the blood all over the bright yellow as he shook it back and forth in the air.

"Where is he goddamn it! Where is he?" He screamed over and over again at the defenseless bee.

To anyone passing by, this seems like complete and utter madness, a father interrogating a stuffed animal instead of searching the whole house for his missing son? But to Theodore in the moment, it made sense. These plushies were the closest to the little vampire, they know his secrets and feelings more than Theo ever apparently did. So it must be obvious that they would be the ones knowing where his precious baby would be.

"I know you know! So just tell me!" His voice broke as a pained sob took over him, making him hold onto the door handle as his knees seemed to buckle under him. "I'll make it better... I swear.."

"He went out you crazy bitch!" The familiar gruff voice came from the living room, it was naturally loud enough to drown out everything else, even the news channel. Or perhaps that was just Theodore's mind only focusing on what matters to him, whichever case it was, he heard it loud and clear.

"What?" He whispered, soft and almost silent; like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He was painfully aware of this, too; the fact that he is just. Sitting. There. Like a useless piece of shit. His brain screamed at him to 'MOVE IT YOU FUCKER! MOVE!' But his body was almost paralyzed, unable to do anything, not even blink.

It may have taken mere seconds to get up and be in the living room, but it felt like years. Years of him being useless and worthless.

He ran down the short corridor.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And with every step, the corridor seemed to stretch further and further, the end feeling more like a mirage as countless doors strung on the walls. Screams were erupting from behind them, defeaning and terrifying. A minute of thinking would've made him recognize the voice as Fran's, and this was one of the many instances where he regretted ever doing that. Theodore shut his eyes, covering his ears with his hands and just ran forward like a fish in the deep dark ocean where the sun can't reach.

"What do you mean?" His voice was erratic when he finally made it to the living room, gripping the worn down sofa that his "boyfriend" was sitting calmly on, as if a kid isn't out in the dark and rain all on his own.

"He's just breathing some air after all that shit you caused!" The man turned to look at him, "You think I didn't hear all that? Well news flash baby, I have ears."

His absolute nonchalance about the whole thing was irritating Theodore to no end, and Theodore wore his emotions on his sleeves. His eyes darkened dangerously as he almost felt himself growl, but he had to control himself as that would definitely get him another beer bottle to the head.

The man chuckled softly, putting his large hand on top of Theodore's much tinier one, "You're too worried about him, Francis is-"

"Fran." He corrected in a low, deep voice.

"Whatever, same thing. Point is, he is a little man now! If he wants to go out and calm his nerves after you wrecked them, then let him!" He smiled, trying to pull the shorter man towards him, but he didn't budge. "Listen baby, you need to give him some time to work out his emotions, stop getting in his business you little helicopter!"

The man pulled again, this time successfully getting the half dissociated Theodore around the sofa and onto his lap. When he said it like that.... it almost made sense. Fran isn't eight and he really was hurt by all that Theo had done tonight and most nights before that, he does need some time to process all that. Or maybe that was just his way of feeling less guilty, believing that this is just a natural reaction rather than face the fact that his son's terrible immune system won't handle the cold and rain.

"That's right baby," the man held Theodore close, and like a moth to flame he leaned into it, craving any sort of affection and sympathy, "calm down now," his rough hands gently petted Theo's curls which were now matted with a mixture of blood, bear and sweat, "it's all okay," He moved his hand down, moving over Theodore's back in slow and rhythmic circles. "Daddy's here," testing his luck, the man moved his hand further down and gripped Theodore's buttocks firmly.

This sent reality crushing down on the poor man, this isn't okay. Nothing about a frail and sickly eleven year old kid being alone outside in the raining night in a place surrounded with dangerous wildlife is okay. No matter how hard he wants to shake the guilt off. How hard he wants to lean into this rare moment of gentleness. He can't. Not when his son is all alone. Not in a million years.

Theodore placed his hands on his boyfriend's large chest and pushed himself off his lap, getting to his feet as quickly as he can without losing his balance and running to the door as if he is a prisoner that just found the keys.

"Well fuck you too slut! I never wanted your trashy ass anyway! Go get eaten by wolves! You and your annoying ass kid!"

But Theodore had already made it outside and started the long process of running around aimlessly and yelling Fran's name at the top of his lungs. After thoroughly running through the front yard, he took a deep freezing breath and made his way into the surrounding woods where the fading moonlight didn't reach.

He quickly lit up the lighter, the rain putting out the flame before he could do anything, so he bent down, wrapping his body around it like a deer would to her fawn, and tried lighting it up again. The small flame persisted long enough for it to turn blue and be transferred onto Theodore's palm.

He extended the demonic flame infront of his face, making his eyes twinkle with otherworldly lights, he was hoping that animals would find it's strange color intimidating rather than inviting, and that Fran would recognize it as his and find him. Clearly too much faith in a silly little flame, even if it is magical in nature.

Theodore's feet got sliced and bruised by the rocks and thorns on the ground, but nevertheless he persisted, his dark fingers gripping the ancient trunks for dear life, not caring about the skin being scratched and peeled off if them.

He opened his mouth to yell for his boy, "Fraaan.." he coughed, hoping that his voice would come back, "Fra.... fuck me." His voice was gone, almost completely after the endless screaming and yelling he did this night, both while searching for Fran and the big fuckin fight that had happened before.

With no voice to speak of, Theodore felt... weak. He couldn't yell for Fran and the hope that the boy would see the flame on his own and follow it is... statistically very low. He was defeated. He failed himself, his father, Fran... everyone that can be failed.

He made his way out of the forest, he had already searched the surrounding area on foot. He had the small tiny twinkle of hope that Fran had made his way back home alone, that he really was just breathing some air. That he is now safe and cuddled underneath the blanket. Safe. And sound.

Theodore stood infront of the closed door. Body shaking from the cold rain and pain, he stood there for a while, just letting the tears silently fall down, not daring to go inside and face the truth.

"Teddy?" A small familiar voice echoed in his head, making him smile a little. He had been first given that nickname by his mom, but now that Franny used to call him that, it no longer feels... humiliating. It feels warm and comfortable, it feels like a purpose and having someone that depends on you and trusts you.

"Teddy!" The small voice came again, this time angrier, like a tiny kitten's hiss.

Is it possible that this.. isn't in Theodore's head? That Fran was actually yelling for him?

He tore his eyes away from the door and looked around, and sure enough, he easily spotted the head of white fluffy hair struggling to get out of under his boyfriend's car.

Theodore rushed to help his son get out without being scratched or injured, he held the boy's tiny hands and pulled slowly, stopping to fluff down his shirt to make the sliding easier. Once his bottom was out, his short legs were an easy task.

"Thank gawd! I thought I was gonna be stuck under there forever! Or that that bastard was gonna drive tomorrow and I'll become tomato paste!" The little boy was flailing his arms around as he spoke, finally settling for a dramatic break as while saying "tomato paste!"

He tried keeping himself composed, he really did, slowly stroked his son's curls, but quickly enough Theodore crumbled. Exhaustion, pain and all that worry that he was barely holding, finally broke him. He hid his face behind his hands as he cried uncontrollably. His drenched shoulders shaking with each painful sob.

"Teddy?" Fran asked worriedly, his soft voice kept quiet as if Theodore was a rabbit that he didn't want to scare off. "Why are you crying?"

It might seem like a stupid question given the circumstances, and if it was anyone else, Theodore would've given them the deathglare. But he knew that Franny genuinely couldn't understand the consequences of actions, wether they were his own or others. So he simply sniffled and smiled as bright as he could, resuming to fluff up his baby's hair.

Fran's face scrunched up as if he had tasted a lemon, his soft features all grouping in the middle of his face. But he didn't mind this, not really, he just found it fun to do this face because he doesn't get to often. And Theodore knows this, they spoke about this before... before this..  him.

"I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeep." Fran whined while pouting, earning him an honest chuckle from his dad.

Theodore opened his arms as his son jumped up, landing perfectly on his waiting shoulder. Fran swung his feet, accidentally hitting his father's chest a few times, not too many times tho as he was doing his absolute best to avoid it. But that swinging was making it harder for Theo to safely stand up, but he made do and made his way back indoors carrying his son like a sack of potatoes, which is the only way Franny likes to be held.

Deep in his mind, Theodore knew that this won't be the end of this abusive relationship, he was too dependent, too afraid of being abandoned and left alone to leave. But the cracks were only becoming more and more prominent, and hell was knocking on their door.

[ladywinterwitch]

On Va Voir

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: During a mission you unexpectedly find a new kink: Steve speaking french.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it tf up), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, language kink (?), a bit of a dom fight between the reader and Steve, 18 + so if you’re under that age you shouldn’t be reading this. You’ve been warned.

Word Count: 3205 

A/n: Just rewatched for the 34868 time  the winter soldier and I’ve never noticed before HOW MUCH of a turn on is Steve speaking french. So yeah, enjoy a bit of smutty Rogers. Also, this is pretty much no plot and total filth.

                                                  (Gif not mine)

You were on a mission with Steve, Natasha, Sam and Bucky. You had been paired with Bucky, while Sam was with Nat and Steve was alone, although you were constantly in contact with your auricular. -We’re inside the ship, front. What’s your position?- Bucky says with a gun in each hand. You followed behind him, with two guns of your own. -We’re in the control room. Working on the informations.- Sam responds. -Steve?- Bucky tries.

-I’m on the roof. And I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. How long have you got?- he asks. -Like, ten minutes, at least. This computer’s older than both of you.- Natasha responds and you can feel the smirk on her voice. You press your lips tightly to not chuckle, Bucky notices and shakes his head.

-Ah, very funny Romanoff.- the blonde sasses back.

-She got you there, oldies.- Sam commented. Bucky grunted with a ‘shut up’. After a few moments you realize that there’s no one in your area, so you lower your guns.

-We should come to you, Steve. We got nothing to do here anyways.- you say, looking at your partner that was still, but didn’t completely put off his guard. -Don’t worry doll, I got it.- but then you hear a gun shot, and glare at Bucky with wide eyes. He looks at you and starts to run. -We’re coming, pal, hold on.- he speaks while running. You both get out to the open and then come up the stairs to the roof.

When you arrive, you see a couple of men already on the ground, and Steve facing another alone. They are one in front of the other and he’s talking. You don’t hear what he says, but you hear Steve response. He drops the shield at his side and then removes his helmet, his hair a little messy. He has the slightest smirk on his face while he speaks. -On va voir.- you hear from the speaker. 'Lets see’. And in that moment something in your stomach shifts. You can’t really place what or why, but you just know that you feel a little too hot in your leather catsuit all of a sudden.

The two start to fight, but it doesn’t take long for the avenger to take him down. You glance at Bucky, who’s just leaning againts the door, with his arms crossed, guns slipped into the belt at his sides. A little knowing smirk playing on his lips. -Jerk.- he says amused. You turn around and see Steve that kicks his shield, making it jump back to his wrist. -Okay guys we have everything. We’ll meet at the quinjet.- Sam says. You clear your throat and look away. -Copy that.- you croak. - You all go back to the avengers tower safely and Tony decides to throw a party. Why? Cause he’s Tony. He didn’t really need a valid reason. So here you were, the day after, finding yourself in front of your full lenght mirror, in your matching blue lacy lingerie, fixing your wavy loose hair and your red lipstick. Normally at this time, especially after a mission, you would’ve all been lazy somewhere, but obviously your teammate couldn’t wait one more day to give you a wild night. Missions usually had as a consequence jet lag, a few bruises to heal, business to take care of and stuff to analyze, so it wasn’t exactly the perfect timing, but fortunately you were able to sleep like a baby the night prior. A particualr help came, indirectly, from Steve which helped your love-me session to end quickly and kick you out to sleep.

You should’ve felt ashamed for that, but honestly you were pretty sure you were not the only one in the world to get off at the thought of the broad and handsome Captain America. The only small detail was that you were his teammate and friend. You had a huge crush on him, but you feel more like a friend vibe from him and that’s okay. It sure avoids problems at work.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that phrase that Steve said in french the day before. It turned you on to no end. You didn’t know why, but the way he said it, with that smugness, his hair all messy and shit. It was just so sexy to you. In any case, the crush was your dirty little secret. Well, not exactly, considering that both Bucky and Natasha had figured out by themselves and Wanda just happened to be reading your mind in the wrong moment. But you trusted them, even if them teasing you about it whenever they had the occasion was beyond embarassing.

You slid into your tight, red bodycon . It was plain, above the knee and had a low cut sweetheart neckline. It was strapless and it hugged your body perfectly. It wasn’t much in your style, but you felt bold that night, also you may or may not wanted to find someone to get laid.

You gave yourself one last look before going down with the elevator. Your black heels were already starting to bother you. You weren’t really a type for parties, but you did it just for the team. And a good drink, yeah. You arrived at the floor and when you stepped out you saw that there were a lot of people, but it wasn’t Tony’s worst. You looked around and saw Sam, Rhodie, Clint and Natasha at the bar, Wanda, Vision, Thor and Maria at the couches, Tony and Pepper talking with a couple of people, and then in a corner near the big window wall, Steve and Bucky.

They were both handsome. Bucky was wearing a grey shirt and Steve a deep blue one. They both had the first few buttons undone and were holding a beer and laughing. The blonde turned his head and saw you. His smile dropped and his gaze wandered on your body, from head to toe. You looked away, kinda embarrassed that you had been caught looking, but a few moments later the two man came to you.

-Y/n! You look great.- Bucky greeted you with a hug. You laughed and hugged him back. -Doesn’t she, Stevie?- he said in a slyly. The captain didn’t took his gaze away from you. -She always does.- he responds with a low tone that made you heat up. -Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.- you motioned at the two in front of you.

-Hey doll, care for a drink? We could go to the bar and -the brunette started, but Steve stepped closer. -Sam wants to talk to you, I’ll accompany her.- he says with a small smile. You smiled back and Bucky frowned. -Since when that bird man wants to breathe my same air?- Steve shoot at him a glare and he raised his eyebrows.

-Ooh, yeah, about the.. Uhm.. The mission…- he tries to save himself. Steve relaxes and Bucky starts to walk away. -Alright, catch up with you guys later.- he gives you a thumbs up. Steve looks at you and offers his arm. -Shall we get that drink?- he smirks making you melt. You smile widely and take his offer. -We very much shall.-

-

You soon were joined by the rest of the group and were having fun at the bar. You noticed that Steve never took his gaze off you, but you weren’t certain, considering the amount of alcohol that you ingested. You felt a little claustrophobic at one point so you excused yourself getting up. -Want me to come with you?- Nat asked. You shook your head. -I’m fine babe, just need a little air.- you walked between the people reaching the big balcony.

You went closer to the glass barrier and propped your elbows on the edge, looking at New York City by night. You closed your eyes, breathing deep. -Did you really drank that much?- you open your eyes suddenly, turning back to the voice. Steve was just a few feet away, hands in his pants’ pockets. He was looking at you with a little smile. You mirrored his expression, turning back to the view. The glass door was closed and you were alone.

-Not really. I’m just a little dizzy, and I needed some fresh air, that’s all.- you responded. There were some moments of silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. You felt him getting closeer to you, almost too close. So close that you could feel his breath on your neck. -You look so beautiful tonight..- he whispered raising one hand and resting it on your hip. Your breath hitched.

-Maybe it’s the alcohol, even though we both know I can’t really get drunk, or maybe its the way Bucky flirted before, or the way you looked so flustered yesterday on the mission..- he started to caress your waist gently. You were slowly melting under his touch, his hand so warm in stark contrast with the chilly air. You had goosbumps. -But I just can’t ignore how I feel anymore.- he turned you to face him slowly. You locked eyes. -I’ve never wanted someone so bad in my life, and I think that you want me, too.- he paused. You didn’t know what to say. You were completely taken aback by his confession.

-But if I’m wrong, I’m gonna step back right now and I’m gonna stay away.- he continued, with a little of uncertainty. You widened your eyes, laying your hand on his chest. -No- you said quickly. -I do. I want you. God, I want you so bad.- in that moment he grabbed your cheeks with his hands and started to kiss you. It was hungry, fast and messy. You almost didn’t even realize that he placed you against the wall, away from the view of the people. You grabbed his hair with one hand and his shirt in the other.

-I wanna fuck you right now, I don’t care if everyone sees, the team, the other people.- he said kissing your neck. -Steve.. Please- you moaned. He looked at you with the best bedroom eyes he could give. -Please what, baby?- he cooed.

-I need you, please. Let’s.. Let’s go to the bedroom, please I can’t take it anymore- he nodded and you quickly went inside, careful to not be seen by the team you reached the elevator and pressed to your private floor.

You had to keep your cool because you weren’t alone, but when you arrived you ran like teenagers, giggling towards his room. He opened the door and then slammed it shut. You pushed him on the bed and he let himself fall, resting on his elbows while he watches you like you were his prey. What he didn’t know was that joke’s on him.

You stood right in front of him, a smirk playing on your lips, an equally predatory gaze in your eyes. You reached to your side, unzipping the red dress slowly, letting it pool around your heels. You stepped out of the dress, bending to pick it up and in the meantime giving Steve a perfect view of your ass. -Fuck baby girl, blue is definitely your color.- he groaned. You chuckled straddling his lap. His warm hands were on your body in no time, pulling you flush against him kissing you. It wasn’t sweet, at all. It was full of passion, all teeth and tongue and soft bites.

At some point he reached behind your back to unclasp your blue lacy bra, then tossing the garment in some part of the room. He didn’t lose time and quickly attacked one of your breasts with his mouth, while he touched the other with his hand.

-Eager, captain?- you let out a noise that was a mixture between a moan and a laugh. He released your nipple from his mouth locking eyes.

-Excuse me if I can’t resist my urge to worship the goddess in front, oh well actually, on me.- he said smugly making you laugh. You gave him a push on the chest to make him lay down.

-Sweet talker.- you tease him, trailing his neck and jawline with wet kisses. He chuckles a little, his hands travelling on your sides, back and ass.

-What? You think I’m just, saying it? It’s true, y/n. You are stunning.- he says sincerly, making you look at him for a second. You smile and place a sweet kiss on his lips.

-Well, thank you.- you respond and you’re caught off guard when he grabs you by the hips and flips your position, so now he was hovering you. You gasped for the surprise.

-And now I’m gonna show exactly how much I want you.- he smirked and started to pepper your belly and hip bones with open mouthed kisses, and at the same time he slipped off your panties, letting them fall on the ground. And now you were stark naked and totally at his mercy. You moaned and with all the strenght you could find you stopped him. He gave you a confused look.

-First, I think you’re not playing fairly there, captain. Then, I’m gonna tell you exactly what I want. Strip.- you order and he licks his lips, his cerulean, and now glassy, eyes were eating you up. He got up, standing on his knees, and started to unbutton his blue shirt, while you took care of his belt and zip. He took off his pants and boxers in one move.

-Happy now?- he asked amused, resuming his work with his mouth, this time he started from your ankle, going up as he went. You peeked at his hard lenght, tip already glistening with precum and angry red.

-Can say so.- you murmured, laying on your back and enjoying the show of Steve between your legs. Your breath started to hitch when he got closer to your center, but as the teasing bastard that he his, he stopped.

-C'mon Steve, baby, I need you.- you say, throwing out of the window yor dignity. -What do you need? Tell me sweetheart.- he murmurs against your thigh, looking at you. -I’d quite like you to speak French between my legs, captain.- you smirk, biting your lip. His expression was priceless.

-Fuck yes- he groaned spreading your legsmore in front of him. He then smiled mischievously. -Alors c'est ce qui vous a tous énervé hier, uh?- So that’s what got you all flustered yesterday, uh?, his tone was a mixture of teasing and realization. He licked a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit anthat made you almost scream, instead you opted for grabbing his blonde hair with one hand and the snow-white like sheets.

-Can’t really blame me. With your cute messy hair, showing off like that..- you responded mewling, your eyes closed and your head leaned back. He chucked sending vibrations trough your whole body. You clenched instinctively. -Yeah, 'cause I’m good at what I do doesn’t mean that I was showing off, chéri.- a particularly harsh suck on your bundle of nerves got your back arching off the bed and moaning loudly -Steve- 

-Tu aimes ça, chérie?- You like that baby? you moaned when you heard him speak French again.

-Yes, God, Steve right there- you answer struggling to not grind onto his face. He adds two fingers and that knocks the air out of your lungs.

-Tu es si doux. Si mouillé, est-ce tout pour moi, chérie? Mmh cette jolie petite chatte, tout à moi pour jouer- You’re so sweet. So wet, is it all for me baby? This pretty little pussy, all mine to play with. He kept talking in between licks and open mouthed kisses on your clit, his long and thick fingers pumping directrly on your sweet spot.

-Fuck. I..I can’t take it anymore, please..- you pulled his hair slightly and he growled, the vibrations went straight to your core and you felt the coil in your belly tighten. You started to gasp. -You’re close aren’t you? Come on baby, I’ve got you, let go honey- he hummed, back to english, speeding up a little his fingers. With that you came. Hard. You screamed his name arching your back of the bed, the sheets out of place because of your pulling.

He rode you thorough your orgasm, and when he felt you calm down a bit he extracted his fingers, licking them clean. You could’ve cum again just by watching him. But instead, you rose up and pulled him to you, kissing him. You hummed when you felt your taste on his tongue. Your hand reached out to stroke his cock, now even harder than before. He choked out a moan on your mouth. -Baby girl I need to be inside you- you nodded and he replaced your hand with his, stroking his cock a few times, he lined himself with your entrance and entered you with a sharp thrust that took both your breaths away.

-Fuck y/n, baby, you feel so good around me- he hid his face in your neck and you circled his shoulders with your arms. -Please move- you gasped and he complied, starting to move faster. After a while he took your leg putting it on his hip, reaching a deeper spot inside you.

-Oh, Fuck. Yeah, right..ah, right there baby.-you gasped, your nails scratching his strong shoulders. You started to feel his breath getting erratic.

-So beautiful- he murmured in your ear and you felt yourself melt a bit more. -Baby ’m gonna come, I’m so close. Are you with me?- you said kissing him on the lips, the cheek, the jaw.

-Right behind you, love.- the pet name made your heart flutter, but you soon forgot about it when he stated to pick up pace again, then adding his fingers on your clit, and that was it. You orgasmed for the second time that night and he followed a few thrusts later with a loud moan and your name spilling from his plump lips. He ride out both of your releases and then planted his forehead against yours.

-It’s okay, baby.- you murmured scratching the nape of his neck lightly, while he calmed his breath, making him hum approvingly. You looked at his parted lips and closed eyes, his blissed out expression making you smile. A few seconds later he opened his blue pools, smiling back quite shyly. -Hi.- you said softly. -Hi sweetheart.- he responded fondly, caressing your cheek. You stayed there for a while.

Then he got up and cleaned you both with a warm and damp wash cloth, bringing it back to the bathroom then he came back to bed with you. -I don’t really wanna deal with the team tomorrow.- you said with your head on his chest. Your fingers tracing imaginary patterns on his torso, him petting your hair delicately. -Me neither. But even if we don’t say anything they’re gonna find out anyway. We kind of disappeared and never came back.- he chuckled and you laughed with him. -Let’s just enjoy this, for now.- you responded. -Yeah. Everything else can wait.- he kissed your head.

Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated ;)

[scripts4dreamers]

Bedside Manner

AN: Lockdown is always hellish but it does leave you a lot of time to think. Characters: Marcus Arguello Pairing(s): Marcus x reader Spoiler(s): None Warning(s): Swearing, unhealthy coping mechanism (Smoking/drinking)

 Prompt: this post I saw from @write-it-motherfuckers

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

When the monks rushed in and started pulling people out of class, you weren’t sure if you were terrified or relieved. On one hand, you could hear the fight happening in the corridors, the sound of Saya and Maria yelling at one another, kids cheering something on, and you were scared of what they might do to one another if no one intervened. On the other, the school itself getting involved was almost never a good sign and, as a staff slammed into your back, ushering you forward, you couldn’t help the rising tide of panic in your chest. The corridors were packed with students being pushed and shoved towards their rooms and you searched through the chaos, without much hope, for a familiar face.

“Y/N!” You heard someone call, “Y/N!”

“Marcus?” You shouted back, turning in the direction of the voice, “Marcus where are you?”

“I’m here!” He shouted, closer now.

The kids next to you pushed and shuffled forward, blocking your view and, no matter how much you twisted and turned, you couldn’t see past flashes of navy blazers and anonymous patches of skin. It was horribly claustrophobic but, just as the panic started to get too much, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and caught sight of a familiar mess of brown curls.

“Got you,” Marcus assured, still several people behind you, “shit Y/N/N I thought-shit, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Maria and Saya?” You asked.

Marcus shook his head, “I’ll explain later. What’re the monks doing?”

You opened your mouth to explain but, before you could, Master Lin did it for you.

“Everybody back to your rooms,” Master Lin’s voice boomed, “We’re officially in lockdown.”

Marcus’ eyes widened. The monk at your back shoved you hard, forcing you forward and through the first available door. You stumbled in, tripping over a backpack on the floor, and just managed to catch yourself before you fell. From behind you you could hear Marcus being pushed into the room and, beyond that, just for a second, the sounds of your fellow students yelling and complaining before the door to your room slammed shut and you heard the lock click into place. Your heart sank and you swore under your breath, turning to face Marcus, who was tugging uselessly on the door handle.

“It’ll be locked from the outside,” you told him, “always is during lockdown.”

Marcus Arguello was almost a friend of yours. Almost. You liked him well enough. He was smart and funny and caring, he was friends with all of your friends, he was helpful and interesting, he respected boundaries and he always knew how to get a smile out of you. All in all, he was an incredible person, but that was kind of the problem; you liked him a lot. Too much. Since his first day at King’s, Marcus had done nothing but make you smile and blush and generally make an idiot out of yourself at every available opportunity, which, at this particular high school, wasn’t just embarrassing, it was dangerous. Trouble followed him like a lovesick puppy, putting your life at risk more than once but, no matter how many times you told yourself to just forget him and move on, you couldn’t. You just kept coming back, every time. You wanted to believe that some part of you was distancing itself from Marcus and that that was why you were hesitant to call him a friend but, if you were honest, you just weren’t keen on lying to yourself. You were in too deep, he meant too much to you.

He sighed, “Fuck.”

You hummed in agreement, trying to hide how nervous the idea of being stuck in a room with Marcus made you feel. There wasn’t much else to say about lockdown anyway. They didn’t happen often, but this was by no means your first, and you knew there was no real point in fighting it.

“This is bullshit,” Marchus continued, “they’re not really just gonna keep us locked in here, are they?”

“Yup,” you answered, collapsing onto the bed and picking up a book, “no leaving except two bathroom breaks a day and meal times. You might as well get comfortable.”

“This isn’t even my room,” Marcus complained, “what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“No, it’s my room,” you explained, gesturing to the other twin sized bed, “you could start by sitting down and telling me what the hell is going on.”

Ever since that trip to Vegas, where everything had gone so horribly wrong, things had been different. Marcus had been different. He was more somber, vacillating between being on edge and being extremely happy and relaxed. He was stressed, of course, you all were but there would be moments when you would look up and catch him just watching you and then, when he saw you looking, he would just smile a bit, like he was sad about something. It always made something in your chest pinch. What made the situation worse was that, outside of those moments, he’d been distant with you. More distant than what was usual for Marcus. As far as you could tell, he was avoiding you in class, sitting next to Petra or Lex at lunch and just generally keeping you at arm’s length. You hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks. You wanted to be indifferent to it but, in reality, it had hurt more than you wanted it to and you wanted an explanation.

He wasn’t smiling at you now. If anything, you noted as Marcus folded himself onto the floor with his back against your roommate’s bed and buried his head in his hands, he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days and it was wearing on him. That thing near your heart pinched again and you cursed your own selfishness. Marcus had obviously been dealing with a lot, more than the rest of you combined probably, and all you could do was think about your bruised ego. Typical. Cautiously you swung yourself upright, sitting cross legged on your mattress to face your friend.

“Marcus, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” he answered, his voice thick with exhaustion, “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine Y/N/N, don’t worry about it.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief but didn’t push, knowing he’d open up in his own time.

‘How long do you think we’ll be in here?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Until Lin gets what he wants, I guess.”

“What if-” he paused, “what if he doesn’t though? What happens then?”

You leant forward, “What’s going on, Marcus?” you asked gently, “You can tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Before you’d even finished the question he was shaking his head, “No. No, Y/N/N trust me, you can’t help with this.”

“I can try,” you argued, giving him a small smile, “I’m pretty smart, you know?”

For a second it looked like Marcus wanted to cry. His eyes watered up and you had to fight the instinct to reach down and pull him into a hug.

“Yeah, I know that.” he said softly, sniffing and wiping his eyes to force back the tears, “Okay, Y/N, I’ll tell you.”

Satisfied, you leant back on your bed, waiting expectantly while Marcus collected his thoughts. He sighed again, running his hand through his already messed up hair. His dark eyes darted around your room, taking in every inch of the place like he’d never seen a dorm before. It made you feel strangely unsettled.

“This really your room?” he asked, pulling out a cigarette and sliding it between his lips, “It’s nice.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, it’s my room and you,” you started, leaning forward and pulling the cig out of his mouth, “can’t smoke in here.”

“Wha-really?” Marcus complained, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

His hands were fidgety, which meant he was nervous.

“Yes, really, Now stop deflecting and tell me why I’m stuck in my room with no one but you for company, and why you look like you haven’t slept in a month, will you?”

He met your eye and you felt, more than saw, his resistance crumble.

“Well, I should probably start with how I blew up my old roommate at the boy’s home,” Marcus started, leaning back against the bed, “and why he wants to kill me for it.”

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

When Marcus finally fell silent you were shocked. You felt like a tidal wave of information had just knocked you over and you were just drowning in it all. How had so much been happening without your knowledge? Some things you’d known about, of course, like Maria killing Chico and Billy killing his dad but, all this other stuff? Chester and El Diablo? Maria killing Yukio? Juan going after Saya in the middle of the hallway?

“Jesus Christ,” you said.

Marcus snorted, “You can say that again.”

You reached behind your bed and pulled out a bottle of vodka that was still mostly full, left over from some house party or another that you’d managed to smuggle in. In one fluid motion, before you could think better of it, you twisted the cap off and took a deep swig, sloshing a little bit on your uniform by accident. The alcohol burned like fire on the way down and you grimaced as you passed the bottle to Marcus.

“Thank fuck,” said, accepting the bottle gratefully, “Y/N, you’re an angel, if you ever need anything-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smiled, “shut up and drink, Arguello.”

“If I must,” he joked with a melodramatic sigh, taking a massive gulp.

As he drank, you watched Marcus as inconspicuously as you could. He seemed lighter now, like the act of opening up to you had taken a huge weight off his shoulders. You still weren’t exactly sure how you felt about it all. Were you confused? Angry? Terrified? Did you wish he’d never said anything? Were you happy he’d trusted you? You didn’t know, probably a little bit of all of it but, despite the craziness and confusion, you were glad you’d been able to help, even if it was just by listening. Talking to Marcus had always been one of your favorite things to do and, sadly this was the most genuine conversation you’d had with one another since Vegas. It was nice, in a weird, messed up sort of way.

“Is this why you’ve been so off with me lately?” you eventually asked, “You were trying to keep this all a secret?”

Marcus grimaced, whether from the alcohol or embarrassment you weren’t sure, and passed the bottle back.

“I’ve always been shit at lying to you and, yeah, I wanted to keep you out of it,” he admitted, “I thought if I just waited long enough everything would just sort of die down.”

“But it hasn’t?”

“But it hasn’t,” he agreed.

“So, we’re all basically fucked.” you said simply.

“Unless I can get to Saya, convince her not to gut Maria and explain what happened before anyone else does, yeah.”

“Well,” you sighed, pushing yourself up onto your feet and sliding your secret stash of contraband from its hiding place in the ceiling, “you know, whatever happens I’ll fight by your side when the time comes,” you said, avoiding his eye, “but for now, since this might be one of our last chances, we might as well enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Marcus looked up at the contraband and smiled, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

Blood rose to your cheeks and you broke his gaze, tossing a bag of cheetos at him, “Shut up.” you said fondly, “And don’t ever keep me in the dark like that again.”

The teasing glint in Marcus’ eyes softened and he reached out to catch your hand, forcing you to look back at him from where he sat on the floor.

“Never.” he promised.

You passed the first few hours of lockdown in a bubble of serenity. While you lay on your bed reading and listening to music, Marcus doodled in his journal all the while maintaining an easy conversation with you. You avoided the hard topics, focussing instead on music and comic books and which teachers you thought would win in a fight as you passed the bottle of vodka back and forth. It felt good, easy even, joking with one another like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. And maybe it hadn’t, you reasoned to yourself, maybe this is how it had always been at King’s; a little bit messy, a little bit terrifying but better than what your life had been before. Maybe this was enough, maybe this was the trade off you made when you agreed to go to a school for assassins and, maybe, you could be okay with that.

At some point Marcus had moved and was now leaning up against your bed instead of your roommates so that you could play with his hair while he drew. It was something you’d discovered that he liked entirely by accident, sitting on the roof together one night when he was still fairly new at King’s. Back then he’d been so touch starved that he’d almost cried the first time he felt your fingers carding through his hair and you’d wondered, not for the first time, what exactly had happened in that boy’s home to make him so afraid. You’d never do it in public of course, people would get the wrong idea and pick on you both if you did but, in private, you’d gotten used to just reaching out and twirling one of his curls around your finger whenever you wanted. As you gently let your fingers scrape against his scalp you could hear Marcus' pencil as it scratched against the paper, and you fought the urge to lean forward and see what he was drawing. Journals were private shit, you reminded yourself, if Marcus wanted to show you what he was doing, he would.

“What’re you reading?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence you’d fallen into.

“The color purple,” you replied, “my mom sent it to me.”

“I didn’t know you and your mom were close like that,” Marcus said, a note of confusion in his voice, “in fact,” he stopped drawing suddenly and twisted his head to look at you, “I don’t really know anything about your family.”

You shrugged, “There’s not much to know, really. My parents are smugglers and I’m at King’s, end of story.”

“End of story? Just like that?” he retorted, “Come on Y/N/N, you know everything about me and I know almost nothing about you. Tell me something.”

“That’s ‘cause you are a chronic oversharer and a terrible judge of character,” you teased, ruffling his hair and returning to your book. Marcus sighed, all melodrama and betrayal and you could feel his eyes burning a hole through The Color Purple. You swore loudly and sat up, “Fine, whatever, you win,” you conceded, “what do you want to know?”

“Yes!” he sighed, laughing at his own cleverness before continuing, “Okay, do you have any siblings?”

“I had an older sister, she died when I was eight and we’re not going to talk about it,” you answered, “next.”

“Favorite colour?”

“Blue or grey.”

“Where were you born?”

“In a tiny little city you’ve never heard of,” you said.

“Have you ever been arrested?” Marcus pressed on.

“Twice, have you?”

“Never,” he replied.

“Okay square,” you joked, “my turn. What’s your biggest fear?”

“Jesus, alright,” Marcus laughed, reaching for the vodka, “if we’re going there we both need to be like 15% less sober.”

You snatched the bottle back, “How about this, for every question we choose to answer we get to drink. If we pass on a question then the other person gets to ask two more which we then can’t pass on, agreed?”

“A drinking game version of twenty questions? What are we, seven?” Marcus complained, but he shook your hand anyway, “Agreed.”

“Good, so back to my question,” you started, “what, Marcus Lopez Arguello, is your biggest fear?”

Marcus looked at you for a long moment, like he was sizing you up and, instinctively, you fought back the urge to shiver under the weight of his stare. He was, of course, incredibly handsome; the sort of handsome that you couldn’t help but notice, even when you were trying not to, but that wasn’t what made it so difficult to meet his eye. No, what made it difficult was that, despite what he thought, Marcus really knew you. He saw past all the bullshit showboating, all the carefully constructed facades. Every single defense mechanism you had was worthless against him because, at the end of the day, you didn’t really want to keep Marcus out. If anything you wanted him closer and, when he looked at you like that, you felt like he might see right through you, into that secret part of your heart that you kept hidden. So you did what any self respecting coward would do; you looked away. Marcus sighed and reached for the bottle.

“Dying without really having lived,” he admitted, taking a swig from the bottle, “and dying alone I guess. You?”

You wrinkled your nose, “Pass.”

“What?” Marcus laughed incredulously, “You can’t pass! I just bared my soul to you and you’re just gonna opt out? Boooooo! Booooooo Y/N!”

“Fine,” you laughed, “fine I’ll tell you. I uh-I’m afraid that I’ll never find somewhere to belong. Like maybe I’m just always gonna feel like an outsider wherever I am until I die, maybe even after that.”

“You belong with us,” Marcus said, “with me and Billy and Petra and the others.”

You shook your head and drank deep, wincing at the vodka’s burn, “Nah, I don’t. Not really at least, not like you and Billy. I’m sure they all like me just fine but, at the end of the day, I’m nobody’s reason for being there, you know?” Marcus looked thoughtful but, just as he opened his mouth to answer, you cut him off, desperate to avoid hearing whatever kind, pitying lie he’d come up with, “Anyway moving on, it’s your turn Arguello. Hit me with your best question, I’m an open book.”

You traded questions back and forth like that for quite some time, laughing and joking and drinking as you did. Marcus was ruthless in his honesty, laying himself bare in front of you and refusing to pass on even a single question. You passed on many. Not all of them were deep and personal, some were funny or nonsensical, but enough were deep and personal that, by the time the alcohol had started to really kick in, you were feeling a little raw. It was like Marcus was desperate to wrap himself up in his own honesty, clinging to every shred of emotional intimacy he could find like it was a lifeline and flinging himself ever deeper into his own vulnerability. Usually you would have pulled back so fast at the idea of being that open that you’d have given yourself whiplash but now, with the alcohol making you feel warm and light, and Marcus smiling at you like there was nowhere else in the world that he would rather be, you revelled in it. There was a sort of tension building too, not exactly something but almost something….very nearly something, and part of you was just excited to see what it was. Marcus laughed at something you said, you didn’t even remember what, and the sound made you so happy that you actually had to stop and catch your breath. He was still leaning against your bed but now his back was to the cupboard next to your headrest so that he could face you while you talked. Unfortunately this also meant that you could study his face more conveniently, mapping every dip and curve and scar like he might vanish if you looked away. Dangerous territory, a voice in your head whispered, sharp turns up ahead.

“Shhh, stop, it’s my turn,” Marcus asserted, still breathless from laughing, “Okay, no shhh-Y/N-listen, here’s my question; have you ever been in love?”

Dangerous territory! Your brain shouted, Abort, abort, abort, abo-

“Nope,” you answered, which felt like a lie even though it technically wasn’t, “have you?”

“Is that your question?” he asked, which some small part of your brain noted was strange since, up until now, you’d both been answering every question.

“No! Well-yes-but I have a different, better question so just answer this one anyway.” you said, pushing the thought away and looking down at Marcus expectantly.

He held your gaze for a second longer, took a deep, deep drink and nodded before saying, like it physically pained him, “I’m in love now.”

Your heart stuttered and dropped into your stomach like a stone, but you kept your face neutral, “Saya?”

Marcus gave you a wry smile that hinged on sadness, “Is that your question?”

You blushed and shook your head, trying to recapture the fun, carefree energy you’d had just moments before. Somehow, your drunk brain noted, you’d made Marcus sad. Or he had made himself sad. Or the question had made him sad, maybe? It was confusing and thinking about it made your chest feel tight so you just pushed forward.

“No, here’s my question-are you ready? It’s a good one-here it is; what is your most precious recent memory and why?”

Marcus frowned, “Most precious memory? What does that mean? Do you mean my best memory?”

You shook your head, “See, that’s why it’s so good; a precious memory is like a good memory, only more. It’s a memory you play over and over in your head whenever things get tough because something important happened there, something you didn’t realize was happening when you were in it. So you have to keep remembering it, you know?” you explained, “So you can figure out what happened and why it was so important.” you continued, “And I say recent because, well, we’ve talked about our families a lot, and the people we’ve lost, but we’re on our own now, and we’ve gotta start making new precious memories.”

“Oh,” Marcus said softly.

“It’s good right?” you continued, distantly aware that Marcus was looking sad again, “Like mine is that day that I tried to stop Viktor from stealing that girl’s kit kat.”

“You mean when he and his goons beat you to a pulp?” he asked dubiously.

“Almost to a pulp,” you corrected, “but while he was wailing on me, the girl got away. I knew when I went in that Vic would beat the shit out of me, but I did it anyway and it worked. It was the day I realised that the choices I make can have some positive effect on the world, so long as I’m willing to take the consequences of them.” you finished, shifting so that your head was resting on your hand, “So, what’s yours and why?”

Marcus shook his head and took another sip from the vodka bottle, “You’re killing me here, Y/N/N. Pass.”

Your jaw dropped, “What!?! NO! You never pass on questions, that’s like your thing.”

“Yeah well I’m passing on this one so just-” he waved his hand, shooing away your berating, “ask me something else.”

“Fine,” you sighed, mulling over the possibilities in your head for a moment, “okay well, since you apparently are in love and I’ve never been in love, what does it feel like?”

“Hmm?”

You met his eye, “Being in love,” you clarified, “what does it feel like?”

In the dim light of your dorm room it was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure you saw Marcus flush deep red.

“It-uh-” he started, fiddling with his hands, “it’s kind of hard to describe.”

“Try,” you encouraged softly, mesmerized by the shift in his demeanour.

“Well I-” Marcus cleared his throat, “for a long while I wasn’t sure it actually was love. I thought maybe it was just general teen stupidness you know? You want what you can’t have, projecting onto someone you admire, that sort of crap but then one day-after Vegas actually-it just,” he shrugged, “changed.” you listened intently as every word burrowed itself into the small secret part of your heart like a knife, and he continued, “Suddenly everything made sense. It’s like my whole damn life was leading me to that moment, like maybe this was why all the shitty stuff happened, so that I could be here, feeling like this.” he explained simply, keeping his gaze focused on his hands, “And now it’s fucking crazy ‘cause all this shit’s going on and all I can think about is keeping-is not losing this. My heart feels like it’s gonna explode half the time, like it’s too damn big for my body and it hurts but it’s a good hurt, like stretching a stiff muscle. I’m not even really worried for myself anymore, but I’m so fucking scared that something I say or do is gonna come back and mess everything up and-” he shook his head, his voice quivering, “and I’m terrified, but I also don’t ever want this feeling to go away. It’s scary having someone hold your heart like this but, at the same time, I think not feeling like this, now that I know what it’s like, would hurt a million times more.” he finished, tensing his jaw and fidgeting like he was nervous, “Sorry, bit of a rambling answer. I owe you another one, don’t I?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you answered, snapping yourself back into focus. It felt like the air itself was heavy with tension now, like all the things you wanted to say were swirling around your head, invisible but always present because you knew that feeling. You knew it all too well and for him to feel that way, to talk that passionately about someone else...you just couldn’t take it. “Okay for my second question;” you continued, “tell me your most precious memory and why.”

This time all the blood leached out of Marcus’ face, like he was becoming a ghost right before your eyes. You felt mean, it was a total bastardisation of the rules and you knew it but there was a little voice in the back of your mind telling you that this was the only question you wanted answered, that this was what you needed to know.

“That’s so against the rules.” Marcus tried, lightening the atmosphere considerably.

“No it’s not,” you argued, “it’s a dick move for sure but there was nothing specifically forbidding it in our original agreement.”

“You suuuuuuuck,” Marcus whined, leaning into your arm where it hung off the bed.

Instinctively you threaded your fingers through his hair, playing with the soft curls like you always did. You felt Marcus arch up into your touch, humming with pleasure as you scraped your fingers through the baby hairs on the back of his neck. He shivered, but the tension slipped out of his muscles and he relaxed with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked softly.

“I really do,” you replied.

“Okay then” he breathed, “honestly, it’s that time on the way back from Vegas when everyone else had gone into the gas station for food, and it was just you and me in the backseat of Willie’s car.” he continued, “You had your hair pinned back and I was telling you some story about my childhood while we waited. You had a red sweater on, and bright blue nails. It was dark out, but the lights from the gas station were shining around your head like a halo.”

“I remember,” you told him, your voice hardly louder than a whisper, “but why? Why that memory?”

Marcus looked up, his dark eyes filed to the brim with the kind of vulnerable sincerity that made you feel breathless and afraid. Slowly, as though he were approaching an injured animal, he reached up and pulled your fingers from his hair and held your palm in both of his. You were frozen, like a deer in headlights, but you still felt the shiver as it ran up your spine at his touch.

“It was the first time I saw you smile, for real, since we’d arrived in Vegas,” he explained, studying your hand, “up until then I was pretty sure I was never gonna see it again but,” he shook his head and shrugged, “I made some awful joke about wishing I’d known then what I knew now and...you laughed. You really laughed and you rested your forehead on my shoulder and-boom-just like that...I knew.”

“Knew what?” you asked, half terrified of the answer.

Marcus gave you that smile, that sad little smile he’d been shooting you for weeks, the one that made your heart hurt just to look at and, before he even said anything, you were already shaking your head.

“Don’t make me say it Y/N,” he whispered, “surely by now you know?”

“No.” you said, pulling your hand away and leaning back, “No, you don’t. You can’t, Marcus.”

“Y/N/N-”

“No, you don’t understand,” you insisted, “it’s not possible. You aren’t-you don’t think of me that way. No one does, I’m not like that. I’m not lovable like you are.”

“Like I-?” Marcus started, following you up and sitting gingerly on your bed, “Y/N you’re infinitely lovable.”

“No I’m not!” You asserted, sure that this had to be some sort of trick, some sort of sick joke, “Who could love me? Who could possibly be fucked up and unlucky enough to love me?”

“I could!” Marcus promised, “I do, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Marcus, you’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way about,” you admitted, “please don’t joke.”

His answering smile was gentle and understanding, like he saw the pain you were in, like he understood. You couldn’t hope for this, you had never let yourself believe for even a second that-

“It’s not a joke, Y/N,” he promised, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to meet his gaze, “I’m just-I’m in love with you. You were wrong, you’ve never been an outsider, you’ve always belonged with me.”

You searched his eyes, his dark, beautiful eyes, for some trace of deceit, some hint that this was too good to be true and that he was waiting to take it away from you, but found none. Maybe he was right, a small, hopeful voice in your mind chimed in, maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe just this once, you didn’t need to be afraid, maybe you could let yourself want this, want him.

Because looking back, it made sense, didn’t it? All those things you’d written off; months of secret smiles and gentle touches, of seeking one another out when you didn’t need to, this was what they were leading up to. As you looked, Marcus blushed, his cheeks flushing a pale shade of pink as you both realised, for the first time, how close you were, how open and vulnerable you were to each other in that moment.

“Y/N/N,” he started softly, “Y/N/N I don’t want to be an asshole or anything but-” he let out a breathy laugh, “but I really want to kiss you right now. Would it be alright if-”

You were kissing him before he could even finish his sentence.

[stevesharrlngtons]

“I was hoping for a little sympathy, maybe.” with Roman please :)

sorry for the delay )): and sorry if this kinda sucks!!

You knew his moping was justified. That his pain was warranted and expected. Having your DNA picked apart and ripped from your body was no doubt excruciating and exhausting. You just wished there was something you or anyone could do to alleviate some of the agony he was in. You were doing your best, but you still felt like you were lacking at this problem that was far out of your element.

Roman was never one to keep his grievances to himself, or to let anyone live in peace while he was uncomfortable. But ever since Pryce’s procedures began to rid him of his upirism, Roman had been a nightmare. He was angry and whining and tired and brittle and sad and needy. He wanted you attached to his side until his skin felt like it was rippling around on his bones, in which case he wouldn’t let you in the same room as him, as to not feel more claustrophobic than he already felt. 

On the days that Roman would go under Pryce’s needles for another treatments, you would spend the entire morning ordering Anna and Conway around to make sure there wasn’t anything that could possibly make Roman uncomfortable or irate. You were a dictator, barking orders and anxiously pacing while you waited for a call from The Tower informing you it was time to retrieve Roman. 

After his first treatment, Roman had driven himself home and almost wrapped his Jaguar around a tree. He had left the keys in the ignition and the door wide open before he mindlessly walked to the house in a daze. You had thrown enough of a fit when he was finally home safe that Roman agreed to let you drive him after he had finished with a new treatment. 

After you had him safely packaged in your car, Roman would usually sleep the entire way home, his cheek pressed against the cool window as you darted your eyes between him and the road. Terrified that if you didn’t look over to him every few moments, his breath would stop fogging the glass or his thin pale skin would split and crumble from the abuse it had taken. 

Two days ago you had finished your new macabre routine of readying the house for Roman’s return and driving him home in a worried stupor. You had put him to bed under satin sheets and mink blankets and a large glass of water and saltines on the nightstand. You had monitored him and stroked his sweat matted hair as he trembled and cried. You had snuggled close to him and kissed his frail skin and spoon fed him soup until his body collapsed from trauma and exhaustion. 

Now, 48 hours later, Roman was almost back to his old self. He still complained and griped and swore and was mostly unpleasant to everyone except you, but that was on par for normal Roman behavior. What wasn’t normal Roman behavior was to be out of bed on a Saturday before eleven A.M., which was why you felt a pang of worry when you rolled over and were greeted by a flurry of cold covers instead of the warm weight of your boyfriend. 

You sprang up from the pillows and searched for your phone to check the time, and sure enough, it was just after nine. Anxiety filled your gut as you pushed away your blankets in search for Roman. Sure, he had seemed to have recovered from the latest treatment as he usually did, but your mind couldn’t stop spinning with what if’s.

What if he had been hiding symptoms from you? What if he woke up this morning, and felt fatally wrong? What if he was slowly taking his dying breaths somewhere in the house while you slept soundly? What if? What if? What if?

You called his name, went from room to room in search of him, when you suddenly heard his voice coming from downstairs. 

You gripped the handrail tightly as you went down the staircase in search of him. You found him sitting in an armchair in the living room, a cloth pressed to one ear and his cell pressed to the other. His back is to you and you can see how rigid his shoulders are through the thin cotton of his shirt. 

“Roman,” You say, trying to gain his attention. 

He turns to you for a moment and unwraps one finger from his hold on his phone to wave at you, telling you to wait. 

“What happened? Who are you talking to?” You continue, blatantly ignoring his previous gesture. 

You walk closer to him as Roman once again holds up his finger for you. 

“Put me on fucking hold one more time Pyrce and I swear to God, you’ll regret it!” He barks.

You round the chair to stand in front of him. You can now see the prominent dark circles that haloed his eyes and his colorless lips and cheeks. He was alive, but clearly not well. 

Your heart broke as a small tut came from your lips. You sink to the floor in front of the arm chair and take to giving his calves and thighs a lazy massage. 

“No, you fucking listen to me -- no, I shouldn’t have to! You’re the doctor here. Fucking fix me!” Roman shouts into the receiver and you press a chaste kiss to his pajama covered knee. 

From your position on the floor, you watch as Roman listens to something Pryce says and scoffs loudly, “Green oozing goo is normal? Because it sure as shit doesn’t feel normal! -- I don’t care if this has never been done before, find a way to stop the weird puss and bile that is coming out of me.” 

And he hangs up. Roman gives a heady sigh as he tosses his phone onto the couch and collapses deeper into the chair. You glance up at the cloth that is still pressed against Roman’s ear and cringe as you see it is tinged with light green wetness. 

You continue your massage up his thighs until you settle your hands on either side of his hips and rest your chin on his lap, “What’s going on, baby?” 

“Just in fucking pain while gross green liquid comes out of me. Nothin’ new, apparently.” He says, sarcastic and dejected. 

“And there’s nothing Pryce can do?” You ask, but you are pretty sure you already know the answer. 

“Nope. The bastard keeps telling me it’s normal and there is nothing he can do...fucker.” 

You hold back a chuckle and kiss his belly instead, “At least it seems like it’s working, right? That’s a positive?”

“I guess, just, fuck! I hate this, I hate the treatments and Pryce. I don’t know why I called him in the first place,” Roman replies, moving his free hand to fiddle with the ends of your hair. 

“It’s good you called, I’m glad you did. I want you to call your doctor when you think something is wrong.” 

Roman’s face screws up in disgust, “Don’t call him my doctor, it makes our relationship sound far more amicable and intimate than it is.” 

“Fine. Your mad scientist? The Dr. Frankenstein to your monster?” You joke and Roman glares down at you. 

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.” Roman tugs a little at a strand of your hair he was busying himself playing with. 

“What are you in the mood for, then?” 

“I don’t know, I was hoping for a little sympathy, maybe. If not from Pyrce, then from you.” He grumbles petulantly. 

“Hey, I am an outpouring sympathy machine for you, baby. I know this process is weird and tough and painful, all I want to do is help. So, tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” You thumbs sneak beneath his sleep shirt to find his hip bones to gently stroke. 

“I don’t know what I want,” Roman pouts, his voice a borderline whine. 

“Want some options?” You ask, perking up slightly from his lap.

He just nods. The treatments were incredibly draining for Roman, both physically and emotionally. While his body physically recovered within a few days, the emotional wounds would linger and refuse to blister for upwards of a week. So, during the period following his procedure, he needed all the emotional support he could garner from you. That included letting him scream and vent to you, or sob and shake in your embrace, or just have you decide exactly what he wanted because his brain just couldn’t surmise what he truly wanted. 

“A: We go back to bed and just watch TV for a while. B: We stay down here and order some breakfast from that diner on 3rd. C: I call Troy and see if he has an Vicodin to help with your pain.” 

Roman mulls over your list of multiple choice before he speaks, “Can I choose that we go back upstairs, order breakfast from the diner on 3rd and I call Troy about Vicodin and pot for us?” 

You grin up at him, “Ah, yes. Secret option D, that sounds good.” 

Roman gives you a soft smile before you push up from the ground.

“Let’s get back to bed, handsome.” You wiggle your outstretched fingers for him to take, which he does easily. 

You pull him up from the chair and Roman moves to wrap his arm around your shoulders, your fingers still clasped together. He presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, one that takes several moments to complete, one where he inhales your scent and relishes in your feeling, one where he whispers I love you. 

With his lips against your hair, you felt a rush of contentment knowing that even your small gestures could work to make this strange time for Roman a little better. That’s all you really wanted, even if you knew you couldn’t find the magic saulve to fix everything. Maybe you would one day, but for now, snuggles, pancakes and painkillers would have to do.

“I love you, too.” You reply as you help your ailing love up the stairs to start your relaxed day. 

does this even make sense??? i don’t know!! i just wanted to write and post this request bc i felt bad that i had let it sit so long lol sorry if it seems scattered or weird??????? but idk, if you did like it, i’d love to hear from you <3 (:

[dreamsequencer-whump]

@let-the-whump-commence I wrote it!

What is it with this team and having things collapse on them?

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

"Ronon, Rodney, you found anything yet?" John asked over the comms.

"I'm sure if they had, they would have said something," Teyla commented.

Sure enough, the reply came from Ronon: "Just rocks and more rocks. Honestly, I don't think there's anything here."

"Yes, well, I definitely picked up an energy signature consistent with a ZPM, and it's definitely in this cave. We just have to keep going," Rodney replied.

John and Teyla were standing guard at the mouth of a cave. Sensors had picked up an energy signature that seemed to indicate there was a ZPM in that cave, and of course they could always use more of those. So Ronon and Rodney had gone in to look for it.

Suddenly, Ronon cursed, and there was an ominous rumbling sound from within the cave.

"Guys? What's goin' on in there?"

More rumbling, then a series of loud crashes, and then Rodney came running out of the cave. Alone.

"What happened? Are you alright? Where's Ronon?" John asked, not leaving enough time between questions for Rodney to answer.

"The whole damn place caved in on us," Rodney said breathlessly. "I'm fine. Ronon, he- I think he saved my life. He pushed me out of the way just before it happened."

"Where is he, Rodney?"

"He didn't... he didn't make it out."

Shit.

"Ronon, can you hear me?" he asked over the comms.

An agonizingly long pause, and then, "I have good news and bad news."

John let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It's good to hear your voice, buddy. Tell me this news of yours."

"Well, the good news is, I found the ZPM. Bad news is, it's not in the cave, but under it. And... so am I, now. There's some kinda room down here."

"I don't suppose there's any chance you could climb out?"

"I could, if the way out wasn't blocked."

"Okay, then just... stay where you are, I'm coming to get you."

"I couldn't go anywhere if I tried. But... I'm not sure that's a good idea. Place is probably pretty unstable, and I don't want you trapped down here with me, or worse."

"Ronon is correct," said Teyla, seeing that John was about to protest. "It would be unwise to risk going in."

"Well, then what are we supposed to do?"

"One of us should go back to Atlantis for help," she suggested.

"Yeah... yeah, that's a good idea. You head back and get help, Rodney and I'll stay here."

She nodded, turning and heading back in the direction of the gate.

"Ronon? Listen, Teyla's heading back to Atlantis, she's gonna get help. So, uh... just sit tight, okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm not hurt," Ronon said, but his voice sounded strained.

"Ronon... if you're injured, just tell me."

"I'm not," Ronon snapped.

"Okay, okay. Sorry I asked."

For a while, they just sat and waited. Then, Ronon started to grow agitated.

John could tell, because he could hear him pacing. And breathing. Breathing heavily, like there was something wrong.

"Ronon, you didn't lie to me earlier, did you?"

"No," Ronon growled. "I'm not hurt."

John believed him. He didn't sound like he was in pain. He sounded... scared. But of what?

'I don't like small spaces.'

Of course.

"Ronon... are you claustrophobic?"

No response, aside from a low growl. Of course he wasn't gonna answer that, especially if the answer was yes.

The conversation had Rodney's attention by now. "Listen, if you are, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, I'm actually a bit claustrophobic myself, it's not- it doesn't make you weak or anything."

Ronon made a noise that almost sounded like laughter. "Yes, because that makes me feel so much better. I'm not ashamed. I just know how the world works. Fears and phobias, that's shit that can be used against you. Best to keep it secret."

"Ooo-kay. That's some emotional baggage you should probably try to unpack at some point."

Another growl from Ronon and a pointed glare from John shut Rodney up.

"Listen, buddy, we're gonna get you outta there," John attempted to reassure him. "Teyla went for help, remember?"

"I know. I just-" He cut himself off with a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like he was trying not to cry. "I just wish help would hurry."

Silence, for a moment, then Ronon spoke again. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"It's- it's getting hard to breathe."

Those words sent a surge of panic through John before he remembered the situation. He's claustrophobic and panicking, not dying. "Alright, I think you're having a panic attack. Just... okay, this would be easier if I were there with you, but you gotta try to breathe with me, okay?" He took slow, deep breaths, exaggerated so that hopefully Ronon could hear him.

Ronon, the absolute last person he'd ever expected to find himself walking through a panic attack. Logically, he knew Ronon wasn't fearless, and even from what little John knew about his past, he knew it would be nothing short of a miracle if he didn't have some sort of PTSD. But he still seemed so... untouchable. Unbreakable. Maybe he was just private enough about his issues that no one else had noticed.

At least he seemed to be breathing again, and had apparently returned to pacing.

"I'm gonna shoot my way out," he announced suddenly, fully pulling John from his thoughts.

"No. Ronon, do not do that. You said it yourself, the place is unstable, that could just make your situation worse."

"John, I- I can't stay here much longer. I need out, I- I need- I gotta get out of here, please, you gotta get me out of here." He kept repeating himself. He was spiraling.

"Hey. Ronon. Listen to me, okay? Just focus on my voice. We will get you out. I promise."

"I can't- John, it's happening again, I can't breathe."

"Yes you can. You did it before, you can. Hey, have you ever had a panic attack before today?"

"Y-yeah... a few times."

"And you got through it every time. I'm sure it felt like you couldn't, like it would never end, but you could, and it did. This time is no different." He wanted so badly to be down there with him, to help him through this in person. But this was the best he could do.

Then, suddenly, he was right beside Ronon. Aboard the Daedalus? Rodney had also been beamed aboard, and looked as confused as John felt.

"We were already en route to Atlantis, and heard that you guys had gotten into a bit of trouble," Caldwell explained. "Seemed like nothing a beam-out couldn't fix, so I offered to come by and get you."

"Well, thanks for that."

John moved to Ronon's side as the taller man stumbled. He looked pretty shaky, and John put an arm around him. "You alright?" he asked softly.

"I'll be fine." Ronon held up the ZPM triumphantly. "And I got this."

John had almost forgotten that was what they'd gone in for. "Good job, buddy." He looked Ronon over. He was shaking slightly, and a bit banged up, but nothing too serious; he really hadn't been lying earlier.

Rodney also came to stand at Ronon's side. "How're you feeling?"

"I've been better... mostly, I just want to get home."

John nodded. "Then let's go home."

[jcmorrigan]

What movie or tv show scared you the most?

OH HEEHEEHEEEEEE MY TIME HAS COME

I think this was probably the sign I was meant to be a horror fan, because I'm gonna talk about two movies here and neither one is a standard horror film. Now, I avoided horror films like the plague, but I now realize that's because of my aversion to jumpscares and gore, which have very little to do with actual scary stuff. I feared actual horror imagery as a small child, but basically once I read Coraline it all just turned around because that book gave me nightmares but I actually WANTED those nightmares and kept going back to the book. So what are the movies I just COULD NOT contend with?

First up, I have found that a lot of people have said this one, but really and truly, fuck Chicken Run.

I was...maybe ten when I watched it. Signed up for a goofy claymation adventure. What did I get? First of all, a whole lot of bleak color palette that warned me that this was not going to be a happy story. We are then shown the stakes right away: our entire main cast lives in a dystopian prison and if they do not find a way to escape, they will die. One DOES die. This is where a lot of people say they noped out right away, but actually, the execution of the dinner chicken in the first scene was tame for me compared to what would come next.

The pie machine. It's assembled, it's talked about, and eventually our two leads fall into it in a way that is designed to be fatal. Look, there are a ton of horror tropes in this scene alone. I haven't seen it SINCE THE ONE AIRING and I can still vividly tell you a lot of this. And if I walked into a horror film and asked for this, I'd come out super satisfied, but I was not expecting horror from this. First of all, I remember vividly the shot where you're looking from Ginger's POV falling down the shaft and the divider comes up to shunt her into the "meat" line. It's incredibly claustrophobic and you just get this almost jumpscare reminder that the character through whose eyes you see is regarded as nothing more than meat to be consumed. There is then an array of blades designed for close calls, and dough that essentially glues the lead characters down to a conveyor belt so they have to helplessly watch the death machines that are coming. Sticky stuff that roots you to one spot; that's another thing that just REALLY unnerves me and I love it if I'm reading CreepyPasta but I was not reading CreepyPasta; I was watching a children's film. The leads escape certain death by jamming the gravy system, causing the machine to overload on pressure, and here I feel like I should've been relieved that they escaped but instead I was the most unsettled of all when the pressure meter started climbing. I don't know if this film *gave* me a phobia of industrial accidents or if it just awakened what was already in my OCD little brain, but suffice to say that after this movie, I was hyper-aware of my own fear of things like hissing steam, rising pressure meters, and being in a room where large metal things were clanking. (I'm since over it; I've been exposed to it in enough things.)

Now, I was no quitter. I should have just noped out. But I didn't. I continued to traumatize myself. The next part of the film until the climax I don't remember so well - it wasn't as traumatizing - EXCEPT for the part where Ginger finds and rebuilds Rocky's circus poster. And now, as an adult, I can see how that was kinda supposed to be funny, like, "The goddamn chicken padded his résumé and the way they found this out was a circus poster." But little me was invested in these chickens, I wanted them to be happy, and what I saw was basically their death notice being signed with that scrap of paper with a cannon on it. I FELT that in my bones.

STILL NOT HAVING THE GOOD SENSE TO JUST EJECT THE TAPE ALREADY, I proceeded to the climax, in which what happens to Tweedy might be one of the most fucking awful things I've seen ever? Pinned upside-down in a superheated, confined space with rising liquid from below as the pressure meter starts climbing again. And her husband arrives just in time to see her like this but not in time to actually stop the explosion. Thank God it didn't actually kill her because even though I was already traumatized, that would've absolutely made it worse.

Thing is, ever since this movie scared the absolute shit out of me - and was probably the cause of the weird stomachaches I had for A WEEK after - I've kinda had this thing about reclaiming the scary parts and stomping on them while laughing maniacally. I feel like every time I've done a crossover project, there's been a temptation to write in an arc where the mains go up against THE PIE MACHINE and fucking win. And also there's whump with tons of comfort in my version to mitigate it all. I haven't done any such thing for TBTC...YET. But I know what I must do. I know who must destroy the machine and the Tweedys along with it. Buckle your seatbelts.

My final word before I move on is that as I ascend into adulthood, I think that for the most part, a rewatch of this film wouldn't traumatize me so badly. It'd still be gross and creepy in a way I think shouldn't be sent to children without warning, but I could deal with the imagery, maybe enjoy using it as whump fuel even more, maybe my horror side would really get into the peril this time. But the one thing I've realized is that this premise is fucked EVEN MORE if you're a grown-up, because as a child, you're sympathizing with the chickens. You want them to get free of this death camp environment. But as an adult, you start to realize that all Tweedy wanted to do was be a chicken farmer who sold pie, and her supposedly nonsentient animals ganged up on her in a display of unheard-of intellect among farm stock. This would then lead to her undergoing at least one near-death fate. Think about being a farmer in our world and the animals you keep GANG UP ON YOU LIKE PEOPLE because you're killing them for food. No thank you, no THANK you.

But surely this was a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. Surely, after this...after so many other people agreed with me; "Fuck Chicken Run"...no animation studio would ever pull shit like this again.

I had hoped that was the case until Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.

This is one I don't actually see lambasted as often. Maybe because the Chicken Run trauma crew grew thicker skins before this movie. I only sort of did. Maybe because no one ever actually invested in this film, having already predicted how much it would be garbage from the dumb humor in the trailers. Oh, but not me. I was a fool. Also my family picked it for a movie night so my fate was sealed anyway.

The original book is actually pretty frightening on its own. Food falls from the sky in such great numbers that it starts to destroy the world. Okay, that's terrifying. But kind of in the alluring way. I would keep coming back to the one page about the giant pancake on the school because the way it was drawn unsettled me so, with something huge and immovable blocking off the way to a building that usually has hundreds of innocent children inside. The film built on this and made it a thousand times worse.

Let's start with the goddamn Spray-On Shoe. Our main character is a mad scientist (but the good kind, apparently) whose list of bumbling failed experiments dates back to when he was a child and invented a spray you could put on your feet to coat them in shoes. He then gets laughed at because he didn't engineer a way to get the shoes off, and runs home in humiliation. Guys, the teasing/bullying factor is...not the most worrying thing about this story. There's a throwaway line about how Flint wears THE SAME SHOES into adulthood because to that day they simply cannot be removed. This seems like an incredibly urgent medical problem? Having your feet encased in the same rubber for years? The same rubber as when you're a kid? I just found myself thinking "What if my shoes never came off one day" and that terrifies me, okay? It's stupid and it's silly and it scares me. Even more than that, though, is the canonization of a polymer in this universe that can be sprayed on sticky and will literally never break no matter what you do to it, because that goes back to the pie machine dough principle. Being glued to a surface permanently is inherently terrifying and we'll go over this later because this is not the last fuckin time the glue shoes get brought up.

Flint invents a food-spewing machine. It ends up in the sky. He rides his popularity as it rains larger and larger food down upon the town and also the world. Most of this film up until the climax is unsettling but not AWFUL. Where it starts to go to shit is when Flint realizes his machine is too dangerous and shuts it off, only for the town's local greedy politician to switch it back on into an apocalyptic mode. So can we start with "Local town finds out its elected official is willing to sabotage their well-being in order to capitalize on the fame of a disaster-causing object?". Like, the whole film would've been solved so much sooner if there hadn't been a saboteur in the works - not a fun campy villain, mind you, but a saboteur who exists to drive the plot to the scary place. But I guess we need that narrative tension to justify having a film in the first place, so fine, I'll ride it out.

The main crew saddles up to fly out to the machine, which is now encased in a FLESH LABYRINTH of food, and...I'm just gonna rapid-fire the shit that happens at this part:

-The food turns sentient in order to defend itself. The cute animal sidekick brutally dismembers an army of gummy bears that is fully sentient and rips them apart to devour them.

-We enter the flesh labyrinth and it's exactly as much a horror RPG setting as you think it is.

-Now sentient cooked chickens besiege the party. The comic relief character is consumed by one, only to kill it from the inside and decide to WEAR ITS SKIN in what is seen as his defining character arc's conclusion. Wearing the skin of a dead monster allows him to forge his new identity.

-One of our party has to go back because of a tight passage lined with her deadly allergen, causing her to undergo anaphylaxis after an accidental mild nick. In the flesh labyrinth.

-The entire horrific journey is instantly INVALIDATED when it turns out that instead of the kill code for the machine, all Flint has is a file of a cat video. Which he finds out as the town is about to be obliterated off the face of the earth.

-So he solves it by jamming the works with the spray-on shoe and DID I NOT JUST GO OVER HOW HORRIFIC INDUSTRIAL EXPLOSIONS ARE IN KIDS' MOVIES? DID I NOT? ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN? Anyway it's canonical proof that NOTHING can break the shoe glue and I should be happy for the town and happy that there's no more flesh labyrinth of living meat but instead I'm just terrified because of the door we have opened. We have imparted the existence of an indestructible sticky polymer upon the world.

-It's later seen used in a credits sequence to repair damaged houses. Which, first of all, given its flexible nature, is fuckin stupid. It won't serve as an actual wall. Second, that got me thinking about construction accidents involving the fuckin shoe glue. If that stuff gets dripped on a person's face -

-So then cue me sitting awake in bed later thinking wide-eyed about Cloudy with a Chance of Fucking Meatballs and realizing that this compound that is essentially a chemical weapon in the making is now in the hands of the mayor who deliberately caused an apocalyptic event over the town because he wanted the food rain. And THAT'S not going to lead to pretty circumstances.

I think you'll see that a lot of my fears with these two movies is "THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!" and I think that just shows how my mind works and why I'm drawn to fanfic so much. I'm all about diving into a universe, exploring its corners, analyzing it to death.

And with the industrial horror stuff, I kinda wanna bring it around to two other films that actually really subverted my expectations and made it fun. 102 Dalmatians was a fave of mine through middle school, but I remember when the climax took us to a big ol' factory and I got plumb nervous. After the usual blades and ovens of horror, the fact that it concludes with Cruella basically wearing a cake and a lengthy montage of the dogs kicking toppings onto her is just one of the most wholesome imageries. She survived the thing and now you get to watch her be decorated Lisa Frank style by her victims who are more interested in humiliation than murder, and I love that.

But maybe more prevalent is that I'm well aware that if certain filmography or plot points had been handled in different ways, The Boxtrolls might've actually frightened the ever-loving fuck out of me what with all the industrial stuff and medical horror, but I just...felt like that film was holding my hand the whole way through going "It's okay." The industrial stuff was framed in a way that was just campy enough and yet also taken seriously. Putting a really charismatic villain - ACTUAL VILLAIN, NOT CHICKEN FARMER OR CORRUPT POLITICIAN SABOTEUR - at the wheel was just such a mitigating factor that it gelled the whole thing together and I ended up LOVING what was done with giant machines and garbage crushers and explosions. And as for the medical body horror, I really appreciate how it was so baked in that Snatcher did that to himself - that everyone, EVERYONE warned him "Do not do this, you will probably die, I'm serious, bad fucking idea" up to the point of Eggs trying to plead him during an anaphylaxis attack, one last time, DO NOT continue down this path, we can find a way to heal you psychologically and get you some self-fulfillment. And Snatcher fully chooses hubris over the many, many opportunities offered him to be able to step down onto a safer path and that removes the fear and pulls it more into a tragedy for the villain. Not at all the same thing as "Sam the reporter is trying to save the world and doing her best until a fixture of the landscape accidentally sends her into anaphylaxis."

(Oh, and by the way, can I just - when I do see CWACOM brought up these days, it's always in the context of "This is the one movie where the guy tells the girl it's okay to look nerdy!". Well, no, not the way I remember it. The way I remember it, Sam basically tells Flint "I used to have really tacky style but have since changed it up of my own volition" and Flint is just like "NOOOOO YOU NEED TO WEAR GLASSES AND A SCRUNCHIE. I WANT A HOT NERD GIRL." This could've been pulled off right with some more introspection into female beauty standards, even in a tongue-in-cheek way, but right now it really looks like Sam just wanted to make herself more glam for a new image and Flint bullied her into regressing her style. Which I've also realized meant he bullied her into dressing more like she did as a teenager and normally I think that kind of shit is just "You're overthinking it" but since it's CWACOM and I spelled it out on paper like that, I'm just now realizing how that can be seen as pretty...icky.)

The one saving grace of CWACOM is that I was older by that time, and so it didn't affect me as hard as Chicken Run. But I still hold it dearly to my heart as one of the MOST DISTURBING movies I know, and by "dearly" I mean "fuck this movie, really and truly." I want to extend my thanks to 102D and Boxtrolls for giving me industrial-horror-based climaxes that were actually really comfortable, and again, probably what drove both of these was the fact that we had a campy diva villain in the lead for the potential scary stuff to surround and radiate off. Not a fuckin...ordinary chicken farmer who is just trying to make bank but is somehow passed as a Nazi allegory for trying to live her life as a farmer? I dunno, maybe if I rewatched that film I'd see she has a thirst for human blood too, and if I could fix fic Chicken Run my first order of business would be to give her a thirst for human blood instead of/in addition to chickens.

Anyway. Fuck both these films, EXCEPT for the fact that traumatizing scenarios can always be recast as whump material, and the next time I wanna do some crossover aftercare from a physically and psychologically damaging mission, I have a pie machine and a flesh labyrinth to exploit. REALLY HEAVY ON THAT AFTERCARE COMFORT THOUGH!