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metalbuckaroo · 3 years ago

Note

Okay so I’m a sucker for protective/possessive moments with Bucky so I was thinking something like either dbf! Bucky or biker! Bucky knows the reader’s ex wasn’t great and while they are on a date or something, he sees the reader’s ex harassing her and the ex gets a little physical (nothing super serious)?? Maybe the reader goes to get them concessions or goes to the bathroom and that’s when her ex sees her and tries to like corner her and get her back?? Idk you can have fun with it I’m not picky. Also congrats on almost hitting 1k followers!! :) xx

Diner

Summary: a night meant for just Bucky and his girl doesn't go as planned

Warnings: gross, toxic ex, unwanted attention, lil angsty, lil fluffy, lil smutty, cursing.

AU: Biker!Bucky x F!Reader

AN: Since I've done so much dbf bucky the past couple days and haven't done biker bucky in a hot minute I chose biker, and this also may be a little peak into a new biker!bucky series I've been planning out for awhile.

MASTERLIST

Gif not mine

Bucky patted at his pockets, shifting around in his seat to feel his back ones. "I forgot my wallet in the truck." He sighed, going to stand from the booth.

"I'll go get it, just sit back down." You said, giving him a soft smile. He didn't argue, just nodded and leaned back into the seat. "It's in the glove compartment."

Going to the single cab truck that was parked a few spots down from the front door of the diner, you pulled the creaky door open, the dome light flicking on to light the dark space.

Bucky kept everything but gloves in the compartment. Unopened packs of cigarettes, extra lighters, gas receipts; the gloves usually stayed on his hands or in his back pocket.

You quickly grabbed the brown leather wallet and shut the truck door, seeing the waitress walking towards the table Bucky was at through the large windows.

"Hey, you. Been awhile." You froze from the familiar voice talking behind you, not taking your hand from the door. "Hi, Jason." You mumbled, glancing at him when you went to walk back towards the entrance of the diner.

He walked closer, blocking your path and making you back towards the truck again. "How have you been? Heard you moved away but, here you are."

You cleared your throat and looked to the windows where Bucky was sat, looking down at his gloved hands. "I'm, uh, here with my boyfriend. So, if you'll just let me-"

Jason blocked you from going around him, holding his arm out so you couldn't pass. "Boyfriend? Please, hun. No other man could want you after I had you."

Your blood went cold, skin crawling from his words. "Well, you can tell him that. I'm sure he'll appreciate it." You spat, pushing pass him.

Bucky looked out just in time to see Jason grab your wrist and jerk you back towards him. The action making him push out of the booth and shove the glass door open.

"Get the fuck off, Jason." You seethed, trying to pull your arm from his bruising grip. "That's such a pretty dress, though. You never wore dresses when we were together. Let's try again." He said with faux innocence. "You never let me."

A gentle, yet grounding touch to your sides from behind eased your nerves; Bucky's gruff voice filling your ears. "I don't like people touching what's mine. Especially my girl."

Jason sneered at him, releasing your wrist. "Your girl? You let her out in a dress like that?" He scoffed. Bucky pulled you closer to his front, trying to put as much space between you and the man as he could. "Most know better than to touch or even look at her. Now, move." Bucky's voice was chillingly calm as he glowered at the shorter man.

"Must not have fucked her yet, she's ruined. All because of me." Jason said with a low chuckle. "Get in the truck, cherry." Bucky said, his tone softer towards you as he urged you to walk away. "Buck-"

The hard look he gave made you shut up and walk around to the driverside, jumping slightly when Jason was shoved into the side of the truck's bed.

You looked over you shoulder to see the much larger brunette stalking towards him, expression on his face that would make anyone with some sense slither away in cowardice. "I don't know who you think you ruined, but it's not her. I suggest you stay as far away from her as possible, she's mine and I don't share."

You scooted to the passenger side and cranked the handle to roll the window down, poking your head out to look at Bucky. "Buck, please. Can we just go somewhere else?" You pleaded, wanting out of the situation as quick as possible.

Bucky backed away, glaring at Jason for a moment before turning around. "Yeah, better listen to your whore. It's all she ever w-" Jason was cut off by a swift right hook knocking him to his knees.

"Dumb fucking bastard, that's not how you talk about a lady." Bucky spat through gritted teeth, looking down at the man who was holding his bleeding nose. "Anything but a fucking lady. Let her out in a dress like that and she'll cheat on you with the first guy who gives her a compliment."

Kneeling in front of Jason, Bucky cocked his head to the side. "I know how to take care of my girl, unlike filth like you." He spat through gritted teeth.

"Bucky Barnes, truck, now." You ordered, Bucky standing and looking at you, a softer look to his face as he made his way to his side of the truck.

"Sorry, baby." He mumbled, shoving the keys in the ignition before tugging you to the middle seat.

Tonight was suppose to be a night without club and bar talk, and jackets. Just you and Bucky, at a small diner just outside town. Now, Bucky felt like it was ruined and could tell you were still stressed by the way you fiddled with the glove on his hand.

"Want it off." You huffed, getting a nod from Bucky who took the velcro strap between his teeth and pulled it; taking his hand from the wheel just long enough to tug it off.

His warm hand went back to your thigh, thumb pressing soothing circles into the skin. "We're taking the back way home." He exhaled, his grip on the steering wheel not letting up.

You looked over at his stern expression, knowing exactly why he wanted to take the back way home. The reason making you squeeze your thighs together.

"I shouldn't have let you go get it. I'm sorry." Bucky mumbled, giving your thigh a light squeeze. "You don't have to say sorry for every little thing." You said, shaking your head at him.

His jaw clenched, the way your ex had looked at you replaying in his mind. It made his stomach churn.

The truck was suddenly pulled to the side of the dark road and jammed into park. "C'mere, wanna talk to you." He said, pulling the lever to tilt the steering wheel as high as it could go. "You can talk to me from here."

"No, I need you to listen to me fully. Come here." His tone had a demanding edge to it as you shifted around to straddle his lap.

Leaning his head back against the headrest, Bucky took a slow, deep breath, hands on the outsides of your thighs. "I don't want you listening to a damn thing he said. Got me?"

You nodded, toying with one of the buttons on his shirt. "What he says doesn't matter. I've got you, Sarge." You said softly, fingers moving to wrap around his dog tags. "Hm, that's how you wanna play?" He chuckled, hands gliding further up your thighs.

"Maybe." You shrugged. A gasp passed through your lips when the thin fabric of your underwear was ripped at the sides. "You gotta quit doing that, won't have any left."

"If you'd quit wearin' 'em, I wouldn't have to rip 'em."

You lifted your hips long enough for him to shuffle his pants down enough to free his erection, lips engulfing yours as your fingers carded into his thick hair.

Bucky's thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as he pulled away. "Want you to make yourself feel good. Alright, baby? Do whatever takes your mind off of it, I'm all yours and you're all mine." He purred, both of your chests heaving from the kiss as his metal hand lifted your hips. "Right?"

You nodded, biting back a whimper from the stretch he caused when you lowered onto him. His hand held your jaw, pulling your face closer so he could nudge your nose with his. "Say it, sugar. I wanna hear it."

You popped open the buttons on his shirt, gliding your hands up his muscular abdomen and chest before leaning to his ear. "All yours, Sarge."

A low groan pulled from his chest, you lips ghosting across his scruffy jaw. "There's my girl." He cooed, hands guiding your hips in a grind.

"So tight and wet for me. Take me so perfectly." He groaned, rolling his hips up into yours as you bounced as much as you could in the cramped space.

"Fuck, James" you panted, already feeling the pressure building in your lower stomach with each movement. "Already, cherry? I knew I was good but damn- can feel you milking me."

Bucky moved his thumb to press sloppy circles to your clit, your fingers digging into the skin of his chest as warmth took over; making him groan and snap his hips up.

You felt the muscles of his abdomen tense before he let out a low groan, rolling his hips into yours through both of your highs.

Thick arms wrapped around you and held you close, Bucky's lips brushing your shoulder and stubble scratching your skin. "I'll always take care of you, sugar."

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #biker!au #biker au #biker!bucky smut #biker!bucky fluff #biker!bucky angst

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swtki · 4 years ago

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Anonymous said:

Heyy! Can you do a Cedricxfem!reader smut? Where the reader get stood up at the Yule ball and Cedric heart breaks since he has been in love with the reader for quite some time. And then they do the nasty you know thank you

A/N: Okay so basically...I am a stupid fucking Cedric simp,,,,and since I got home today, and my course work is fairly light for this week (no promises) my requests are open and I will try to get as much out as I can this week before my birthday! Jan 24th and you will get an about me post. ALSO, thanks for 700 (now 710 no brag) followers! I love you guys! Ok onto the fic!.

moodboard

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, SAPPY CEDRIC, BAD WORDS OH GOD OH FUCK

(Y/N) stood in front of her full length mirror in her dormitory room, admiring the fabric hugging her hips. Very rarely did she ever get to see herself like this, never mind other people. Her hand reached up to move a stray strand of hair back into place, a minor detail that although she doubt mattered, she could not refrain from. It was the night of the Yule ball, a night that the girls in her year wanted perfection more than ever, (Y/n) not excluded.

It would not be unheard of, however it would be rather embarrassing to show up un-courted. Nobody to dance with, nobody to share a moment in the moonlight with. That’s why when Miles Dane asked her to the ball, she did not hesitate to say yes.

To be quite honest, the two seventh years had never really talked. Though, they did have potions together. Surely, she would get to know him while sharing a dance, and she had to admit that he was quite charming and handsome. A tall Ravenclaw boy, lankly in the most perfect way, his skin a medium tone that glowed in the sunlight, so the carriages weren’t out of the question either.

The clock on the wall read six fifty, there was no sign of Miles, only (Y/N) and her twiddling thumbs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt him even, but above all, she wanted to believe he was coming. Everything was going to be perfect. It should all be perfect.

Inside the hall, Cedric Diggory, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, was pretending to be interested. The mundane conversation between Cho, his date who he now was sure didn’t even remember who she came with, and another seventh year girl droned on. Despite the banging of the loud music into his ear, Cedrics head was silent. Bored. Without saying anything, he slipped away from the table, creeping into the corridor for a breath of fresh air.

The cold December air hit Cedrics face with a refreshing feeling, the pressures of being a Tri-Wizard champion melted off of his shoulders. Though, he didn’t like to admit it, he sometimes questioned if this path was right for him. Would it have been better if he had stayed put, never scratched his name upon the parchment? He knew that he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. Cedrics tall, lean body slumped against the stone wall. All was quiet around him, a welcomed environment. Then, he heard the faintest gasp, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed out, wiping the small bead of sorrow that had escaped from her eye. She knew Miles was not coming. A dark figure leaning over her crouched body interrupted her racing mind. Instinctually, she looked up from her knees.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Cedric said in a soft voice.

“Nothing..nothing is wrong Diggory.” She avoided eye contact. Cedric and (Y/N) had been friends in years prior, particularly in third year. But as time drew on, their paths separated, effectively making them strangers to one another. He had gone on to be a hearthrob who was wanted by every girl, while she had focused on her studies and the go-to for casual sex.

“You know, we may not have sat together for three years, but don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying?” He squatted on the cement next to her, becoming eye level. “Now, what are you doing out here? You look so gorgeous, I’m sure your bloke in there is missing you.” His hand gestured behind him to the large archway leaking a bright tune.

“Yeah, thats the thing,” she drew a sharp breath in, tilting her head up, “My bloke never fucking showed up. Look at me, all dressed up and no one to dance with.” Her eyes closed, painting a small smile in an attempt to conceal her pain.

“Oh...I see.” Cedric stood up and offered his hand to the girl below him. “Well, let me fix that for you.” She rolled her eyes, but happily accepted.

Opting to stay where they were, the two swayed in each others arms. The warmth of Cedrics arms comforted the girl, soothing her in a way Cedric had not soothed her in years.

“Didn’t you come with a date?” she asked, her head on his chest.

“Yeah, shes inside. She lost interest with me I’m afraid.” Cedric made a small chuckle that made her bite her lip. “You know...I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m a little surprised, I thought you would always hate boys. Cooties was it?” He teased, resting his chin on her head.

“Oh fuck off. For the record, I did like boys. I liked you, Cedric. I still do.” He pulled away from her figure slightly, his eyes searching over her face. Then without any hesitation, he collided his lips to hers.

Shocked at first, she froze. But within a second, her hands were cradling his face. The kiss was deep, full of years worth of emotion. His grip tightened on her waist. Time stood still for the pair, it felt like hours before Cedric pulled away.

“Do you want to go to my dorm?” He said, panting.

“Won’t people notice if you run off?? You’re like a celebrity around here, Ced.” She grinned up at him. Cedrics face took a more serious appearance, but his manor became relaxed.

“Fuck ‘em.” His large hand grasped hers, leading the way to his dormitory.

(Y/N) sat on the soft mattress, her body stiff and unsure. Cedric fumbled around, locking the door, playing suave. He stood a mere three feet from her, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Did you want to just chat because...Cedric, I can do far more than chat with you.” She gave him a seductive look, making the boy swallow hard.

“Well I... I mean trust me, the way you look sitting on my bed is amazing, and I’m all for it. But the question is, are you - I mean do you want to? With me?” A rose blush creeped upon the Hufflepuff boys face, making (Y/N) giggle.

“Come here, Ced.” She beckoned him over to her with her finger. He happily obliged, walking over to sit next to her. But before he could sit, she put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his place. “Stand...I want you to stand while I sit. Is it okay if I..?” she gestured to the growing errection inside his trousers.

“Fuck...please darling.” She bit her lip and started undoing his pants, enjoying the sight before her eyes. She stroked his cock, admiring the way his eyes scrunched up when she ran her thumb over the tip. Smiling, she leaned over and put it in her mouth. His soft moans filled the room as he ran his slender fingers through her soft hair. All of the sudden, he yanked her off, pushing her on her back.

“My turn, love.” Cedrics mouth started leaving sloppy kisses around her mouth, trailing down to her neck while his left hand massaged her tit over her dress. Her elbows pressed into the bed, pushing her up.

“Wait, lets get these off, yeah?” Cedric kissed her, then unzipped her dress, fumbling to strip himself as quickly as he could. Once she was left in just her knickers, he continued where he had left off. He traveled until he got to her covered pussy, looking up at her to see if he could continue. She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

Cedrics left hand pushed apart her legs, letting him get a proper look at how she felt about him. His other hand yanked off her knickers, little did Y/N know how mental simple white cotton undies made Cedric. Without hesitation, his mouth started attacking her sensitive clit. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever felt with her previous fucks, because this pleasure was dedicated with love. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a wanton moan escaping from her throat. This encouraged him to suck on her clit, and then to Y/Ns delight, inserted two fingers. Filthy moans filled the room as her cunt felt so pleasured in a way she had never felt.

“Fuck thats so fucking...oh my god Ced.” He moved his fingers at a faster speed, attacking her clit simultaneously. Eyes rolling back into her head, a pure groan of pleasure filled Cedrics ears as she bucked her hips, reaching a climax unlike any other.

Cedric stood, climbed on the bed, then looked at her.

“Do you want to..keep going or?” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“yes but..I wanna be on top” His heart beat faster, his erection becoming somehow even harder. He laid down on his bed, allowing her to swing a leg over his hips. Y/N grabbed his member and ran it through her folds, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Then she sunk her body onto his, both of them in seventh heaven.

Her hips started rocking against his, making his cock hit all the right parts inside her. Cedric was in love with the sight before him, his eyes looking at her like she was a goddess. Her hand reached down, rubbing her clit, maximizing her pleasure. It wasn't long until her next orgasm washed over her, making Cedric even more eager to put himself to use. When she was back off her high, he brought her down to him, chest to chest. Thrusting up into her was the best feeling he could have imagined, it went on for minutes, both of them feeling amazing.

Y/N leaned over into his ear to whisper,

“Please cum inside me, Ced. Please, I want you to use me and leave my body stained with your cum.” Cedric, finding out that now he had a thing for cumming inside her, sped up. His hips clashed with her arse as his climax grew closer and closer.

Cedrics eyes rolled into his head, his body releasing his cum into hers. His legs shook a bit, he had just had the best orgasm he had ever had. The girl on top of him rolled over, now laying beside him. Both of them sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #robert pattinson smut #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader

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kelieah · 4 years ago

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going on dates with arvin russell

request (summary): anon: I read one of your head cannons for Arvin the other day and loved it!! Could you do one with a drive-in movie theater where they get a little steamy or another one where they go dancing maybe the reader is shy about dancing and Arvin’s all sweet about it? I just love both date ideas and so much could happen! You don’t have to do either, I know it’s vague but I’m here for just about anything:)

anon: Hey Arvin x reader fluff just going on a date

word count: 1.7k

warnings: fluff fluff luff, lil bit of suggestive content

a/n: ugh the idea of going on a date w arvin fking russell during the 50s? yes pls,, and thank you sm doll! decided to do multiple dates bc yes. also yes i decided to make this a head canon bc im too lazy / busy to write out a whole ass fic, but this is still going to be a long ass head canon so ennnjooooyy i hope ehbejsf

main masterlist | arvin russell masterlist

when you first met arvin you never thought of him as a romantic guy

but oh you were so wrong

so wrong

your first date with arvin was nothing what you’d expect to be

i mean

it’s not like you expected arvin to show up with two cans of beer and a carton of cigarettes

but you didn’t expect him to go all out either

you remember your first date with that damn boy like it was yesterday

he showed up to your house with a bunch of flowers

you could tell he picked them out from the park or something

but it was the thought that counted and it warmed your heart

god what a sight he was

all doe-eyed

face still mean as hell though

and pretty too of course

you liked to call him pretty boy and he called you stupid

anyway

his eyebrows were a bit furrowed and knitted together

but the look in his eye and the small smile on his lips

enough to make any girl swoon

“hey,” he said briefly, pushing out the poor yet lovely flowers in his hands

some were fully bloomed, bright yet dull

some lopping over

some dead

even a little bit of dirt and roots hanging from the end

but you could tell he tried

he tied a bit of woven rope around it all to keep it together

before you could speak he interrupted

“i– i know girls like flowers. but i couldn’t get you em fancy ones from the store cus. yanno. m’ sorry doll, but this is all i could get,” he held them out again and you gladly took them

“there’s no need to apologize, i love these arvin. thank you,” you smiled and leaned close towards him, kissing his cheek

his cheeks were instantly dusted with pink at your affectionate gesture

“y’ of course. my pleasure. well, uhm. if you’re ready, my car’s parked a bit down the road, cause you said your parents?” he trailed off, glancing behind you.

you nodded and giggled softly

“yea, they usually don’t like it when boys come over. but i don’t give a fuck,” you whispered the last part and sent him a wink

god he loved it when you cursed

he found it kinda hot he told you

he flushed and looked away, chuckling

“well alright, do you want me to wait in my car?” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking back at you

“yep, i’ll be out ina jiffy,” you said, about to turn the other way and put the flowers in a vase

“wait,” he coughed while taking a step forward

“yeah, arvin?” you turned back towards him

“you look real pretty,” he complimented you

it was then your turn to blush

“why thank—” before you said anything he turned around and walked off to your car

you always found him such an interesting fella

you giggled to yourself and retreated back into your home

he first took you on a long drive

which honestly scared you a bit

“you sure you’re not taking me somewhere to kill me?” you muttered and looked around

nothing but trees and road was in sight

“i think,” he replied blankly, one hand on the wheel while the other was on his thigh casually

you blushed at the sight

you weren’t sure why you found it attractive

but you sure did

“how reassuring,” you teased, catching a smirk beginning to curl at the end of his lips

he eventually found a spot and parked on to a hill, that looked over knockemstiff

the sun was setting and the town was dark

it looked absolutely beautiful

he got out of the car and soon opened your door, holding out his hand

you jokingly froze and looked at him suspiciously

“you sure y’ not gonna kill—”

before you could finish your sentence he pulled your arm towards him, holding you close

you let out a squeal and looked at him with a flushed expression

“no, i’d never. you hear me dumb one?” he cupped the side of your face

you blushed and nodded into his touch

“m’ only teasing. jeez.”

he chuckled and pulled you carefully toward the front of his car

“gimme a minute,” he walked off towards the back of his car

you smiled and leaned against his car, looking out at the stunning scenery in front of you

soon arvin came out with a picnic basket

he’d hear you before the both of you went on a date that you loved picnics

so of course, he had to take you on a picnic

it was so sweet

a basket full of sandwiches, pop, and some cheap snacks he managed to buy

with change, he scrounged all over his room, place, and car

the both of you shared your first kiss that night

“i’d genuinely never met a girl like you,” he murmured, looking down at you as lied across his lap

“well i sure as hell never met a boy like you,” you whispered and looked back up at him

you both leaned closer and closer towards each other’s faces

and then pure

bliss

your lips fit perfectly on his

his floppy hair that was surprisingly not hidden underneath a cap fell onto your face

he held your face so gently and you held onto his shirt like you were going to fall

you both kissed the night away

he’d never put so much effort into dates before

most of his past dates were sexual, but he didn’t tell you that until later

the more dates you two had, the better they got

now this one date you took him on

you don’t know how you did it

but you managed to get the poor boy to go rollerskating with you

and lord

was it a great laugh for you

as soon as the two of you rolled out into the arena

arvin was wobbling all of the place

you had multiple fits of giggles and laugh

“how the hell!” he grunted and continuously slipped

eventually having to hold onto the railing

“honey, you just glide y’ feet,” you snickered and held his hand

“yeah no shit. it’s like m’ a goddamn baby again learning how to fucking walk,” he muttered frustratingly underneath his breath

“awe you poor poor baby,” you teased and squeezed his hand. “just watch me lover, look at me feet. move with me, ready?”

he nodded and stared at you closely

you began to move your feet slowly, watching him as he watched you

“yes! see you’re getting there, slowly. yep. wow arvin, didn’t think ya had it in y—”

course

before you could even finish your praise

he let out a loud yelp while slipping, bringing you down in the process

you landed on his chest

he let out a grunt, holding you up before you could hurt yourself more

you both looked at each other in disbelief and burst out in laughter

it was moments like these where the both of you truly enjoyed each other’s presence

some dates were steamier than the other

the two of you were supposed to be watching the movie

while in his car and snacking

but of course y’all couldn’t keep your hands of each of other

his hand was already up your skirt

caressing your skin

while your tongues pressed against each other

your hand tangled in his hair

you felt his finger brush against your lower area and you gasped in response

yeah you and arvin had made out before

but it’s never gotten farther than that

so lil touches like that surprised you

“oh m’ sorry baby doll. did you not like that?” he pulled his hand away immediately

he cupped your face with his other hand and looked at you with pure concern

you blushed and shook your head

“no i liked it. i’m just scared, but you can continue. please?” you leaned into his touch

“okay, i got you,” he smirked slightly and pushed his hand back under your skirt

let’s just say

you saw fireworks for the first time that night

and not any typical fireworks

as the weeks went on

you and arvin were inseparable

everyday was a date and the both of you couldn’t be happier

one day he really surprised you

he got you and him tickets to some dinner and dance

“ain’t no way, you, arvin russell got these,” you looked down at the tickets in your hand

“gee thanks darlin’, but yes. i did get these, for us,” he stuffed his hands in pockets and looked down at the ground sheepishly

you let out a loud squeal that scared the hell out of him

you jumped into his arms and crushed his bones while hugging him

he laughed softly and held you up, spinning you around

honestly, you thought the two of you would just go for the food

for some reason you didn’t think he’d like the dancing

but oh were you wrong

again

“c’ mon beautiful,” he begged and dragged your hand toward the dance floor

“i don’t know about dancing baby, you know me,” you whined and hesitantly followed

“oh yes i do know you y/n. and i know i got you tied around my finger. so you know damn well you’re going to dance with me right now,” he said lowly underneath his breath, leaning close toward your face

his hot breath fanning your skin and sending chills throughout your face

cocky motherfucker

you huffed and glared up at him, “yea i know, i know.”

“okay perfect, follow my lead gorgeous,” he placed his hands around your hips while he brought your arms to snake around his neck

“n-now what?” you said awkwardly, your body still a bit stiff

usually he’d hate to do this in such a crowd but since you were there with him

he felt like it was just you and him

all alone

that’s always how you made him felt

like it was you and him against the world

“i got you. alright? just move with me, it’s just you and me. don’t focus on nobody but us,” he murmured softly and began to sway

you smiled timidly and swayed along with him

you kept your eyes on your shoes, afraid to step on him

“don’t worry about that, just look at me angel,” he reassured

you sighed and looked back up at him, “mk. since when did you dance?”

“mama taught me when i was a kid, she’d dance with me,” he confessed sheepishly

your eyes softened

“i love you,” you nuzzled your nose against his

his heart hammered in his chest at those three goddamn words

“shit,” he mumbled as his cheeks burned red

“w- what?” you said a bit panicked, about to pull back

he pulled your body closer and embraced you while pressing his lips against yours

you complied and kissed him back, smiling against his lips

he moved back and placed his forehead against yours, “i love you a lot more, flower.”

and right then and there

you just knew you were the luckiest girl in the world

to be able to be with someone like him

to be able to go on dates like these with arvin russell

taglist + inbox link under the cut! thanks for reading ツ

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

Our Song

At the last show of his tour, Kells invites you on stage for a duet, but it turns into a bit more than that.

Request: “Can you do one where the reader and Colson both are music artist. I know you're doing this with "The Thing We Can't Tell Pete about. But with this one they have been dating for a while and while they are in the middle of the song Colson decides to announce they're dating and gives her a kiss in front of the crowd, and the reader is just in shock. However it ends it up to you. Love ya!!!!!!!!”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: implied smut/ mentions of sex, cursing

A/N: So, I used my own lyrics in here because why not (sue me I guess)

Word Count: 2326

The last two months had been absolute hell on Earth. Yes, you loved your job. Recording your third studio album was exciting but being busy all the time was exhausting. On top of that, your boyfriend being off on tour meant you hadn’t seen him in person in two months, which was driving you even more insane.

It also meant you hadn’t had sex in almost two months.

You’d called each other every night, even if you were both drunk off your asses or faded beyond belief. It had become your routine; get home from the studio, grab something to eat, then hop into the bath and facetime your blond boyfriend.

Tonight, was no exception, but the energy on the call was different. Colson was coming home tomorrow. Granted, he would be going straight to the venue for his concert, but he’d be here.

“You’re still coming tomorrow, right princess?” He asked, a joint hanging from his lips.

You smiled, nodding, “I haven’t seen you in two months. If I’m not there, you should assume I’m dead.”

He chuckled, “good.” He hesitated before continuing, “I was thinking you could perform with me. We haven’t performed White Sea in like a year.”

You bit your lip at the thought of performing with him again. He was right, after you’d finished live performance promo for the song, neither of you had performed it together. “Yeah, I’m down.”

The song was the first one you’d written together; it was actually the whole reason you’d met. “You don’t think people will get suspicious though? I mean, people are already catching on. I feel like performing it out of the blue would add fire to the flames.”

He thought about it, the wheels turning in his head. “I think it’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not exactly a secret.”

You nodded, “I know, we’ve just never really talked about telling people.” The last two words came out softer than you had intended.

Colson and you had been together for a year and still hadn’t officially told anyone outside of your closest circles. You liked the privacy, and getting the media involved always caused problems. So, you kept it to yourself. People saw you out together, but nothing had been confirmed.

Colson left the conversation there, not having a good answer. You had both agreed a long time ago that if people figured it out or someone slipped up and told you would be okay with it, and you would. You just didn’t think it was a big deal if people knew or not.

He started talking about his day on tour, the crowd he’d played to tonight. You told him about the song you were working on. Eventually he got called away by the boys.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” He smiled at you through your phone.

You smiled, “You better. I-“ You almost slipped up. Almost said those three words so casually. But you’d caught yourself. “I can’t wait.” You covered.

He gave you a small wave before your screen went back, the sound of the line disconnecting ringing through your bathroom. You put your phone on the floor next to the tub, leaning your head back and sighing.

You don’t know why it worried you so much. You knew you loved him, and you were pretty sure he loved you too. There was just something about saying out loud that scared the hell out of you.

The next day was amazing. As soon as he texted you that he’d gotten to the venue, you were rushing to meet him there. When you stepped into the green room where he was, he ran up to you and grabbed you by your waist. Your arms went around his neck, legs around his as he lifted you up, burying his face into your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled into your skin. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, holding him closely.

“I missed you too.” You whispered. He lifted his head up and pressed a deep kiss to your lips as your feet came down to touch the floor again. His lips were so familiar, it felt like the world had shifted back into place when you felt them on yours.

He pulled away, forehead and nose still pressed against yours. Your hands travelled from his neck to his shoulders, rubbing the fabric of his t-shirt. “I didn’t think I was gonna survive another night without you.” You said with a slight giggle, making him laugh.

“Well now you don’t have to worry about that.” He said, pressing a peck to your lips.

Before you could pull him back to your lips, your moment was interrupted. “We get it, you guys are cute. Whatever. Can we get hugs from our favorite girl?” Irv joked, pulling your attention to the group of guys near the couches in the room.

One of the things you loved most about being with Colson was how accepting his friends were of you. Slim and you had bonded over your love of music production and mixing, Baze had taught you some more complicated bass riffs, and Rook was your designated adventure buddy (after Colson, of course). You felt lucky that your boyfriend’s family had taken you in as one of their own.

You ran over to them, giving each of the guys a hug. When you hugged Ashleigh, she whispered in your ear, “don’t ever leave me alone with these lunatics again.” You both giggled at that, leaving the boys confused.

After messing around backstage for a while and catching up with your friends (mostly from the comfort of Colson’s lap), it was time for the guys to perform. You set up your spot side-stage with Ash, Irv, and Andre, excited to see the set.

Before he went on, Colson came over to you and pulled you in for a very giddy kiss. Pre-show Colson was your favorite Colson, except for maybe post-show Colson, only because he was so excitable. Every time you sat show side, he demanded you give him a good luck kiss. No matter who was watching.

Watching him was magical, in fact watching all the boys was magical. The way their passion showed through the music and the performance was something that not many other artists could perfect. You felt like you’d never match their level of performing.

When Colson brought out his acoustic guitar and two bar stools, you were a bit taken aback. Normally his shows were so high energy that he never wanted to sit down, even during the slower songs. It wasn’t really his style.

“I wanted to bring out a very special guest today to help slow this down a bit.” He said to the crowd as they screamed. “I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, but I figured today would be the perfect time to do it.”

He looked over at you, a smile on his face. It finally registered in his mind that he was talking about your song. Luckily, you’d had ears put in at the beginning of the show, so that wasn’t an issue. One of the venue’s techs handed you a microphone and signaled you to go on stage.

Once you came in view of the audience they erupted into another round of cheers, making you smile. Colson met you halfway and pulled you in for a sweaty hug. He led you over to the chairs, letting you sit down while he adjusted his mic stand. “For those of you who don’t know, not that there should be anyone who doesn’t know who this is, but just in case, this is Y/S/N. We wrote this song a little over a year ago today.”

You smiled as he started to strum the familiar intro, the lights dimming just a little bit.

Drownin’ in empty space.

You started singing.

Don’t even know my name

Feels like you’re miles away

Close my eyes, see your face

It’s okay

Rook brought the drum beat in as Colson smiled at you, his verse starting

Yeah

I was drownin’ in this darkness

Feeling like I was so heartless

All these drugs makin things harder

They tried to turn me to a martyr

You loved watching him party on stage, but you loved watching this side of him, too. Completely stripped down and raw. Hearing him rap the words you wrote together made your heart flutter, even if you’d written them so long ago.

I can’t handle shit I’m just a man

I tried to tell ‘em, they don’t understand

Riptide’s pulling me away from land

I couldn’t stand till you reached out your hand

And now I can.

The rest of the music came in, the sounds mixing as you began the chorus.

Drownin’ in empty space

Don’t even my name

Feels like you’re miles away

Close my eyes, see your face

The key raised.

Out on the open sea

Feel your eyes watching me

Wanted to fall asleep

Now I believe.

The music kept playing, but Colson’s rap didn’t enter like it was supposed to. Instead, he just looked at you, a fond smile on his face. You tilted your head, questioning him, but he just placed his guitar on the ground and kept looking at you.

“I just want to let everyone here know, that today is my one-year anniversary with this amazing woman right here.” He said into the mic, causing the audience to burst into screams. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening.

He caught your expression and laughed but kept going. “It wasn’t a secret that we’ve been together, but we’ve been quiet about it. But I mean, like, fuck that shit. When you’re in love you should tell everyone, right?”

You smiled at him, your heart picking up speed. “And Y/N I am so fucking in love with you.”

You looked down, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks and the idiotic grin you were sporting. You had never expected this from him. “Like, seriously, this past year has been the best year of my life. Even when we aren’t together you are the one thing that I look forward to the most, every day. You are one of the best things in my life, and I want everyone to know that.”

During his little monologue he had walked over to your chair and pulled you up into his arms. You nuzzled your face into his bare chest, making him laugh. He pulled the microphone away from you both so it wouldn’t pick up your conversation.

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly and you complied. “I love you.”

You had tears in your eyes as you studied his perfect features, “I love you, too.” You whispered. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while I just…”

“I know, princess.” He smiled, leaning down and pressing your lips together in a sweet, passionate kiss. The audience erupted in applause, cheers, and awes. “Are you gonna say anything?” He asked once you’d pulled away, motioning to the audience with a smile on his face. You shook your head, burying it back in his chest and laughing. He spoke into the microphone, “she got all shy now.”

The crowd laughed with him, shouting supportive comments at you both. “But she said she loves me too so that’s all that matters.” He continued, earning even more cheers.

After the show, Colson came backstage and immediately attached his lips to yours, hands holding you close. You pulled him into one of the unused dressing rooms, mouths never leaving each other. He hoisted you onto the counter, standing in between your legs, and leaned your back against the mirror.

Finally, he released your lips from his, making you whine. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about all this, but after last night I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. And you just looked so pretty out there that I-“ You cut him off with a kiss, lips moving together slowly.

He chuckled as you pulled away. “Colson, I loved it. I was hella embarrassed because the first time you told me you loved me was in front of thousands of people, but I loved it. And I love you.”

He smiled, pressing a peck to your lips. “How much do you love me?” He asked, slyly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing something was up. “Depends on your next statement.”

A laugh fell from his mouth as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small rectangular box. “Because I really hope it’s a lot.”

“What are you doing?” You asked him, giggling.

He lifted the lid off of the box to reveal a key with your first initial painted on one side and a C on the other. “You don’t have to, but if you wanted to maybe think about moving in with me, now you have a key.” He smiled as you took the metal in your hands.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, lips open in shock. “So, you’re asking me to move in with you?” You confirmed.

“Only if you want to. But yes.”

You smiled, looking back down to the key and then up to his face before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. Your arms went around his neck and his hands went to your waist. “Of course, I want to, dummy.” You giggled and reconnected your lips.

“We’re supposed to go out and celebrate the last night of tour tonight, you’re gonna come, right?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“You act like I don’t wanna be around you.” You pushed his chest playfully. “But we might be a couple minutes late.” You smirk.

Colson raised an eyebrow, “oh yeah? And why is that?”

Instead of responding you just giggled and pulled him back into a kiss.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson imagine

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zukump3 · 4 years ago

Text

fixated ✰ s. aizawa

aizawa takes interest after you, but he doesn’t really know how to go about it.

genre: fluff, some smut in the second part! fem!reader

warnings: two parter!! aizawa has a CRUSHHHH, he pins after you heavily, counselor!reader. zawa used to have a thing with ms joke, black!reader

a/n: this idea was super cute so i had to write it. i hope you guys like it!!

requested: yes!!

part 2 (coming soon)

Aizawa has never been one for dating. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a relationship.

Back in high school, when he sat in the very desks his students sat in, he was often teased at by Mic about getting a partner. The hero tried to set him up on dates, give random people his number and all types of other methods, but Aizawa was just never interested. No one really caught his attention that way... until Fukukado came along.

She was everything he despised. She was loud, she talked too much, and she never took anything serious. But somehow she made her way into his cold heart and he indulged in her.

He enjoyed his time with her. Underneath all that goofiness she was a sweet woman who cared deeply for her job and her students. Aizawa felt emotions he had never felt with her, and was a bit peeved when they split. However, they remained friends. Since then, he hasn’t bothered dating with anyone.

“Have you seen the new counselor?!” Aizawa opened one eye to see Kaminari and Sero gushing as they entered the class. “She’s sooo hot. And she’s foreign!”

“Doesn’t she speak English and Japanese fluently though? She’s smart and attractive, jeez.” Sero huffed, and Aizawa furrowed his brow, zipping down his zipper on his yellow sleeping bag.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Miss L/N!” They both yelled, making Aizawa blink. “She’s our new counselor. She said parents were complaining that the students mental health wasn’t being cared about enough, so U.A hired her. She’s from America too.”

“America.” Aizawa groaned. He already had an image in his own eyes—a stereotypically one, but oh well. You probably had blonde hair and blue eyes. There was probably nothing special about you at all. His students weren’t as used to foreigners, so of course they would find you attractive.

Throughout the entire day he kept hearing his students chatter about you. About how kind you were, how pretty your voice sounded, how you looked so unique. He was getting peeved—why was everyone so hung up on you?

He carried the thought with him until the end of the day, when he headed down the hall to what seemed to be your room, just as you were leaving.

And—wow. He really understood why everyone was talking about you.

You weren’t blonde haired, blue eyed at all. Your hair was in a fluffy afro, like Mina’s but kinkier. You had the most supple brown skin and dark eyes that lit up when they caught his. His eyes widened a bit at just how radiating you seemed, your multi colored lips raising into a smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa! I’m L/N,” you spoke, your hand pushing out to shake his. He shook your hand silently, noting at how warm your palm was against his cold one. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your students!”

“You’ve met them?” he asked, voice deep with shock.

“Ahh, well, they kind of pranked me earlier,” you said sheepishly. “They came banging on my door and said there was a fire, and that I needed to leave as soon as I could. But then they said they were just joking when I was about to jump out my window,” you laughed, shaking your head. “They’re pretty goofy huh?”

Aizawa couldn’t help but note at how good your Japanese was. He knew English and Japanese were two different languages—you must’ve been pretty smart and hardworking to learn it.

“Well, I have to go do paperwork at my apartment-hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” you smiled once again. Aizawa only nodded and then you were off, with his eyes burning into your back.

His fists clenched. You were much more attractive than he originally imagined. But he wasn’t going to indulge—he knew that would only end badly.

Right?

The next day, Aizawa heard the same chatter about you. And the next. And the next. He didn’t see you again until about a week later, when he saw you chatting with Midnight and Mic in the lunch line. He cringed—the two were notorious for gossiping and he really hoped they weren’t telling you anything stupid.

“And then I—aye yo, Zawa! Good afternoon! Have you met L/N?!” Mic screamed, and Aizawa’s eyes went to meet yours ago. Your hair was styled differently to the point where he could see your eyes better, and it framed your face so nicely. You waved at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“We were just talking about our high school days~” Midnight’s voice rang out. “American high school is reaaaally different from Japanese high school, according to L/N.”

“The students here are really well behaved, especially in Aizawa’s class,” you smiled at him. “You’re doing a damn good job with them. They’re some of the most charming students I’ve seen! The ones in American high school can be really rude and nasty... I haven’t experienced any of that here. It’s nice.”

Aizawa breathed shakily. Thank god his students weren’t embarrassing him.

“L/N here’s got a degree in psychology and all that mental stuff!” Mic yelled once again as you all moved down the lunch line. “She understands da brain! We really needed someone like her here, with all the breakdowns our students have!”

Aizawa huffed. Teachers, too.

“I’m here for everyone,” you spoke. “Students, teachers, even the Recovery Girl if she’s got a lot on her mind. I’m just here to help everybody as much as I can.”

“Aizawa needs some of that help fo sure!” Mic yelled, smiling so hard all of his long, white teeth showed. “Motherheffa never talks to anyone about his feelings, keeps em balled up! That’s not healthy!”

Aizawa’s ears turned red. “No, I don’t need-“

“I’ll help ya!” you offered, moving so your body was right next to his. He couldn’t help but inhale your scent—it was strong and sweet, something he’d never smelled before. “Don’t worry—whatever we discuss in my room stays in my room. It’s something I pledged to do when I became a therapist.”

Aizawa laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I really don’t-“

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna have a session immediately, no worries,” you shrugged. “But I’m here whenever you need me. I have more work to do later, but I’ll see you guys later!”

And then you were off, with Aizawa’s eyes still on your back.

“You’re staring pretty hard Aizawa,” Midnight raised perfectly done eyebrows. “She’s pretty—I would stare too.”

“Be quiet.” He spluttered, his ears still red as he made his way back to his classroom to eat.

Another week had passed of Aizawa admiring you from afar. You always came into work with a smile on your face, greeting students with handshakes and hugs—the hugs threw him off a bit, but Kaminari told him it was an “American thing.” He didn’t know how much he would daydream about it until he started to long for hugs from you, thinking of how your arms would wrap around his middle before class.

He wasn’t obsessed with you, no, but rather infatuated. You were intelligent and easy to approach, and your appearance matched your personality. He was attracted to you but due to him not having a relationship in years and also not having the best social skills, he had no idea how to approach you. He didn’t even know much about you. His students knew you more than he did and you were his age! It made no sense.

Time after time during the third week of you being here he tried to talk to you. During lunch, when Midnight and Mic would force you all to sit together, he would want to open his mouth but he couldn’t. He’d come by your room to start conversations after school but the most he’d say was “have a good evening, L/N.” and leave you alone. He even found your social media and took a quick look through your pictures—leaving your page when he saw you in a bikini, his cheeks red.

By the time the fourth week came around, his students and his work buddies were noticing his changes in behavior. He was getting distracted much more than before and whenever someone would mention your name he’d go scarily silent and look deep in thought. It wasn’t until Mina chatted with the rest of the Bakusquad that his students actually began to do something about it.

“Miss L/N!” you heard Jirou’s voice rang out from your doorway, with some other students from Class 1-A coming in behind you. “Good evening~”

“Good evening Jirou! Hey everyone,” you smiled warmly at the students that were entering your classroom, confused as how many of them were coming in. “What’s up...?”

You had formed a pretty close relationship with the class of 1-A during your short time here. You had sessions with most of them and got to know their personalities and feelings pretty well—even Bakugo, who was closed up and rude at first, but eventually shed a few tears in your room.

“Mr. Aizawa said he needed your help with planning lessons today—he said he’s asked everyone else and they’re all busy,” Mina told you, and your brows furrowed in confusion. Aizawa needs help from... you? That was odd. “He needs you to come by as soon as possible!”

“Oh! Well, alright,” you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stood up and grabbed your phone. “Thanks for telling me—you all get to your dorms and don’t cause too much noise okay?”

You heard rings of “yes, miss l/n’s” as everyone left your room and you locked it behind you. You started to make your way to Aizawa’s classroom, your palms a little sweaty against your notebook. You hadn’t talked to Aizawa in a while and it was weird that he had requested your help, but you didn’t mind getting closer to him. Truthfully, he had been on your mind a lot the past few days—you found him pretty attractive despite his quiet demeanor. Although, you were a new teacher, and didn’t want to be involved with anyone too early in your school year.

Aizawa jumps a bit when he hears sudden loud knocks on your door, and sees your face come into view. “Good evening, Aizawa. You needed my help?”

“Huh?” Aizawa asked, his face twisted in confusion.

“Jirou and Mina came by and said you needed my help with lesson planning—I’m not the best with planning stuff to teach but I don’t mind offering my assistance,” you offered him your normal, gentle smile. “So where do we start?”

Mina and Jirou? Ugh. Of course they would tell you that.

“Um-um-well,” he stuttered, his face already starting to heat up. “I just need a new quirk training game... yeah. That’s why I need help with.” Fuck. He hoped that sounded believable.

“Okay!” you nodded, suddenly taking a seat that was in the corner of the room and sitting right. Next. To. Him. He had to clench his fists to keep his cool, not used to such an attractive woman being so close to him at all. “Where should we start?”

He spent two hours with you discussing new games to play with his students that would also train their quirks, and those were some of the best two hours of his life.

He so enjoyed the time he spent with you. You were so easygoing and natural to talk to—he didn’t feel awkward or nervous talking to you which is what he feared he would feel in the first place. He cracked more smiles with you in the span of two hours than he did the whole week.

“You can’t just make them play dodgeball with their quirks! They’ll get hurt!”

“We have a Recovery Girl for a reason.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, smirking at the glare he got from you.

“Still! You know some of them—Bakugo—are going to take out their anger on other students,” you huffed.

“But it’ll be fun to watch?”

You were quiet for a moment, but inevitably started smirking along with him. “...you’re right. It will be.”

Together, the both of you planned for Class 1-A dodgeball, with you and Aizawa as the referees. You two even planned to go by the outfits together—and now he was out at a sporting store with you, looking for a fucking black and white striped shirt. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’ve never worn one of these before—you think I’ll look cute in it?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows repeatedly and he couldn’t help but chuckle gently at your antics. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you will F/N,” he told you, not even noticing his slip up until a few moments later. “I—I meant-“

“So we’re on second base huhhhh? Don’t worry, I’ve accidentally called you Shota a few times to Mic and Midnight. I’m not used to calling people by their last names, we don’t do that in America.”

“You talk about me?” Aizawa couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the fact.

“What?! Of course not, no.” you quickly shook your head, and he grinned at the flustered look on your face. “The only thing I tell them about is how you need more sleep. Your brain doesn’t function correctly on a small amount of sleep.”

“My brain doesn’t function correctly at all.”

“Wrong. You’re pretty smart, Aizawa. Pretty understanding too,” you hummed, you two walking through the aisles so you could get whistles. “Your students are always telling me how much you care about them, even though you don’t show it. They really appreciate you you know?”

He was expressionless, but his heart did warm a little bit at your words. “I know.”

You two bought the items and soon enough you were back at the school. You got out of his car, sending him a wave and a quick goodbye before heading to your own car, and Aizawa let out the longest sigh of his life.

“Shit.”

#bnha x poc!reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fic #bnha fic #aizawa #shoto aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa x black!reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fic #aizawa fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #aizawa fluff

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raith-way · 3 years ago

Text

Fandom: Marvel / MCU

Fic: Traversing The Multiverse

Pairing: Mac Rowe/Steve Rogers

Kiss Prompt 22: …in a rush of adrenaline

Requested By: @asirensrage

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

Mission Complete

Mac felt her body move with each heaved breath, shoulders shifted under the thick uniform she was wearing, and her senses were in overload. At her feet, a man groaned and caused her to kick out instinctively. Aimed at the temple, with just enough force to knock him into unconsciousness without killing him. He was the last one, everything else around her was quiet with the exception of her loud breathing, and now it was time to—

“What the—whoa!” Mac spun around as a hand touched her shoulder, fingers light through the thick material, and she immediately had a hand raised to point a finger at a very surprised expression. “You can’t just go around grabbing people like that!”

“Sorry, I called your name,” Steve quickly explained. She’d learned, right off the bat, that this Steve was unfailingly honest. If he said that he’d been calling her name, he’d been calling her name. She probably just hadn’t been able to hear him under her pulse thundering in her ears or her loud labored breathing. So she let the finger of accusation fall and propped her hands on her hips. She let her head tip back so that she could keep looking up at Steve, who was also decked out in his superhero uniform. (Thankfully, their similar uniforms were both dark in color and didn’t contain any kind of brightly colored spandex. Thank Hemsworth for small mercies.) Steve was standing similarly, hands perched on his hips like a mother getting ready to scold someone, and he was looking curiously down at her like he had a question but didn’t know how to ask it. He got that look around her fairly often.

“What’s with the face? Why are you looking at me like that?” She knew that if she didn’t ask something first, they’d spend the next hour (possibly only several minutes) just standing here and staring at each other.

“You’re smiling,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. She’d been smiling since she stopped moving and realized that everyone in the immediate vicinity was down for the count. She thought she might have even managed to hold the smile through her surprise and alarm when Steve first got her attention, but she’d been a little distracted by the extra shot of adrenaline to be absolutely sure.

“We just took out a Hydra base! Just the two of us! Took ‘em all out!” She held her arms out, to indicate the entirety of the building that they had infiltrated that was now filled with Hydra agents that they had taken down, but Steve still wasn’t smiling. If anything, his expression darkened. His brow was even starting to do that thing, where it furrowed whenever he got down on himself and broody, and she did not have time for that today. Not in the middle of her celebration.

“We still have to—” Steve’s eyes widened to an almost comical degree as she slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting off whatever logical and depressing thing he was about to say, and she shuffled closer on her tiptoes without removing her bare hand from his mouth. (Huh. Captain America was getting a little bit of a five o’clock shadow. Kinda went against that perfection thing she was always prepared for when she looked at him.)

“You and I found this base, got into it undetected, and neutralized every agent without either of us being injured in any kind of way.” Under the bare skin of her palm, she could feel Steve’s lips shifting. Could feel his cheek twitching beneath her fingers. He was starting to smile, so she let her hand slip down to grip his shoulder. Holding onto him helped to keep her steady as she continued to balance on her toes, close enough to see the different blues of his eyes.

“We did make a pretty good team,” Steve said and smiled fully. Lips slightly parted to show a flash of teeth, dimples denting his cheeks and adding some color to his face, and his eyes looked so much brighter when he smiled. (That could possibly be her projecting, but damn if the dude didn’t have sparkling Disney eyes whenever he was actually happy about something.)

“We made an amazing team! We totally crushed them!” The energy from the fight was still buzzing in her veins, making her feel light and a little invincible, and she had to know what Steve’s smile felt like. She used both hands to grip his shoulders and pull herself up a little higher, and Steve was still smiling when her lips pressed against his. Their smiles matched, lips brushing and holding, and she tipped up more to brush their noses together before lowering herself back down. “You were amazing, I was amazing, we were—”

Steve’s arms curled around her as he pressed into her, bending her backwards just the smallest amount as his lips molded to hers, and oh. This was what it was like to kiss Steve. His hold on her was secure, felt like she was floating as her spine curved over his arm, and she reached up to sink one hand into his thick sweaty hair. (Because Steve wasn’t perfect, except for maybe the way he kissed. That was kinda perfect. Okay, totally perfect.) He mapped her mouth like he was committing it to memory, and a quiet sound built in her throat as she clutched at him and opened for him. Before pulling away, he smeared wet kisses across her sensitive lips and in a line to her chin. He tried to pull back completely, but the grip she had on his hair and the shoulder of his suit wouldn’t allow him to go too far. She could still feel the warmth of his breath, see where she had darkened and slicked his lips, and her fingers flexed with the need to pull him back to her.

“Was that, uh, was that okay? I know I should have asked first—”

“To be fair, I did kiss you first,” she quickly interrupted. Because Steve was a good guy, and he’d never forgive himself if he thought he’d done something wrong. (Even though she had been the one to kiss him first.) He relaxed some at her words, but he was still holding her at an angle like he wasn’t in any kind of hurry to move. “I also, just for the record, wouldn’t be completely opposed to that happening again. In the future. Or now. I wouldn’t be opposed to it happening either of those times, just so you know.”

“I can kiss you?” He looked confused now, and she much preferred this little furrow in his brow. The one that said he was confused but also hopeful, and she let go of his shoulder so that she could smooth her fingertips across his brow.

“Yes, please, I would like that very much.” Steve smiled again, so bright and with dimples, and she started to strain upwards. “Now, please.”

“Right, yeah, o—” Whatever else he wanted to say was smothered between their lips, broken off with hints of teeth and soft tongues, and she clung to him as they learned each other. Officially, best mission ever.

#oc: mac rowe #fic: traversing the multiverse #mac rowe x steve rogers #otp: it's always me and you #marvel #mcu #steve rogers x ofc #kiss prompts #thanks for the ask!!#this is totally your fault #i had so much fun writing them together #that they became endgame #i think they're adorable

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thosewickedlovelies · 4 years ago

Text

When Missions Go Right

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x afab!Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: After Frankie makes everyone believe he was killed during a mission, hours later you're still shaken from the reveal that it had been a ruse. You can't stand the idea that he might have never known how you felt about him, so later that evening, you go and check on him.

Tags: SMUT; minimal angst despite the summary lol; unprotected PinV sex (pls wrap it up irl); oral (f receiving); they briefly drink alcohol but are not drunk; swearing

Word count: 6,794 lmfao

A/N: Reader’s nickname is Mosquito- I wanted a nickname and my brain got stuck on this one once I thought of it sorry. It’s explained :)

---

You sit in your hut at your team's temporary camp in the jungle, fidgeting. You don't know why you’re so torn- there’s nothing weird about checking on a teammate after a stressful mission, and you and your boys had done it for each other countless times before. This time is different, though. This time had shaken you more than any other incident, after you thought Frankie had- No. You exhale.

Just thinking of him emerging after the mission that day, appearing when you thought he was lost, causes another swell of emotion to rise in you, hot tears filling your eyes. You clap your hands over your mouth, force yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. Frankie had looked so surprised at everyone's reaction to his reappearance: stunned, relieved tears and a five-person hug that had pulled everyone to the ground in a tangle, with himself at the center. You don't know what he had expected. His impromptu plan hadn't been ideal, sure, but it had made their mission a success, and he was alive.

You smile a little at the memory. The quiet relief on Frankie's face, how soft and vulnerable he looked surrounded by affection, dust and sweat in his hair. Your smile fades at the remembrance of what had happened next. After everyone had untangled and straightened up, Santiago held out Frankie's hat to him, retrieved from where it had fallen during their dogpile. Frankie had secured it on his head, smiling cautiously at his friend. Then Santiago had punched him in the face.

“Don't you ever do that again!” Santi's voice had cracked. In the split second before he turned and strode away, you caught a glimpse of his eyes, turbulent and red-rimmed with emotion. Frankie, holding his jaw, had stared after him in shock. The Miller boys offered reassurance: “He'll be okay, Catfish. You guys are close. He was just upset.”

“We all were,” you added, stepping closer. Frankie's attention had focused on you for the first time since his return. Apprehension in his eyes, guilt and worry clearly visible on his face. You didn't let yourself think about what those dark eyes did to you as you flung yourself at him, hugging him fiercely. It was only partly to hide your face that you buried it in his neck. Santiago’s outburst echoed your own anger at Frankie’s deception, at him making you believe he was dead- but now was not the time to deal with it.

You had made no effort to stop the tears as you breathed in Frankie's scent, muddled with sweat and gunmetal. His arms wrapped around you carefully, one hand cradling the back of your head. Holding each other the way you were, his voice seemed to rumble through you, low and warm. “Hey, Mos. Thought you were gonna punch me too there for a sec.”

Memories flooded through you at the sensation- all the other times the two of you had been this close. Dancing to sultry music in some club, both of you too tired to pretend to mind lying pressed together in a cramped tent-

You exhaled, shoving the memories aside. Now was also not the time for that particular train of thought or its familiar destination.

Pulling back, you gave him a watery smile. “Nah, I think Pope did enough damage.”

You kissed him lightly on the cheek Santiago had just punched. Frankie's eyes were wide when you looked up at him, but you ignored the fluttering in your chest and turned your soft look into a glare. “But you'll get what's coming to you after that stunt.” His bulletproof vest was hard under your finger as you jabbed it into his chest.

You hardly held up the glare for a minute before it cracked, and Frankie chuckled in relief. “Whatever you say, Mosquito. Let's just get out of here.”

Skirting the edge of your team's small camp, you pause to scan for anyone else moving around in the dark. Briefly you find yourself distracted by the brightness of the full moon above, the beauty of the starry sky this far from any major towns. The remote location of this mission was why you were all still in camp tonight, instead of blowing off steam at some local watering hole. Usually some booze was brought along anyway, so you could unwind around the campfire, but you suppose things are a bit tense for that after today. Secretly, you're glad. You don't want to have to compete with everyone else for Frankie's attention tonight.

Now, you blink rapidly to clear the tears from your eyes. Taking a final deep breath, you stand. You had done enough crying since then; it was time for a different kind of release.

Mosquito. Sneaking around in the night like this, you're reminded of your nickname's origins. After a particularly successful mission, Santiago had been raving over your skills of infiltration. “...hitting 'em before they even knew they were there! Bam!” Crowing with laughter, their victory relaxing him as much as the booze.

“Like a mosquito,” Frankie had murmured, just barely peeking out from under the brim of his cap. The bugs had been particularly bad in that region, but the look in Frankie's eyes was anything but. Gleaming with admiration in the dim bar light, a knowing amusement quirking his mouth into a smile- because Santiago's jaw had dropped. “Mosquito! Yes! ‘Fish, you're a genius!” Before Frankie could stop him, his friend had stolen his hat, ruffled his hair, and planted a kiss on his head with a smack.

You laughed as Frankie snatched his cap back. Santiago lifted his beer and spoke ceremoniously. “From this moment on, you will be known as: Mosquito.”

“Here, here,” Benny and Will had enthused, holding up their own bottles.

You shook your head, but there was no arguing with it. You clinked the neck of your beer with Pope's. “Mosquito it is.” The conversation drifted then, but you had looked at Frankie meaningfully. You lifted your bottle almost imperceptibly in acknowledgment. You're still not sure if the blush on his cheeks was from your appreciation, or Santi's smooch.

A buzzing near your ear reminds you that there are also bugs in your current environment, and that you've been standing here long enough. Certain there is no one around to see, you slip around the side of Frankie's hut to where a camo-patterned blanket hangs as a door. You knock lightly on the wood beside it. “Catfish? It's me,” you call softly. “Can I come in?”

There's a rustle and the sound of a throat clearing. “Yeah.”

You push aside the blanket just enough to step beyond it. It falls back into place behind you with a swish, and you blink as your eyes adjust. Contrary to the cool moonlight falling outside, the hut is lit only by a lantern sitting on the nightstand. In the dim, warm orangish glow, the figure perched on the edge of the bed is a study of shadows. You catch your breath as Frankie lifts his head.

Frankie “Catfish” Morales epitomizes the phrase “it's always the quiet ones”. But what he doesn't say out loud, you can always read in his eyes. Endlessly expressive, occasionally accompanied by an eyebrow raised to varying heights, they never fail to draw you in.

“Hey, ‘Squito. Come to take your shot?”

Your brow furrows. That wasn't what you expected. The guys only called you ‘squito' or ‘skeeter’ when they wanted to needle you. Buying time, you cast your eyes around the small space. A few square feet at the foot of the bed where Frankie had dumped some gear; the single bed that Frankie sits on, three feet in front of you; and the nightstand at the head of the bed, a surprisingly homey feature. On it sits the lantern, Frankie's dog tags, and- ah- a tall bottle filled with golden liquid.

“Only if that's tequila I see,” you reply.

Frankie looks caught off-guard for a beat. Then a huff of laughter escapes him. “Make yourself at home.”

So saying, he pushes himself backwards on the bed, loosely crossing his legs in front him and resting his head against the wall. His eyes drift shut.

You snatch the bottle up with one hand and use the other to maneuver onto the bed next to him, mirroring his position. Consciously, you make sure your knees touch. Despite your earlier anger and whatever Frankie seemed to be thinking now, you want him to know you're here for him. His leg hair prickles against your skin, pleasant and familiar and warm.

"How many have you had?"

"Just two."

“Easy catch-up, then.” You remove the shot glass resting upside down on top of the bottle, fill it up, and knock it back. You can't help but shudder as it goes down, warmth settling in your belly.

You turn your head to find Frankie's eyes open and fixed on you. You swallow reflexively at how close your faces suddenly are, how depthless his eyes look in the lamplight.

“How's the tequila?”

You blink, barely registering his words.

He nods down to the bottle resting on your knee. “It's a new kind.” His low, raspy voice, normally comforting, now feels like it's sliding along your bones, setting them alight and turning them to liquid all at once.

You blink several more times and resist the urge to clear your throat. You glance down at the bottle. The label looks vaguely familiar, but not as much as it would if it were a brand he or Santi normally bought. And you would know; you've drank with them both countless times, enough to know their preferences.

“It's good,” you say. You offer it back to him.

He takes it, moving at a leisurely pace as he unscrews the cap. You watch the deftness of his hands, your gaze traveling up his arms- perhaps not as defined as Santiago's or Benny's, but just as capable of holding you tight. The lantern's glow gleams on his brown skin, the line of his throat as he tips his head back.

Your gaze catches on the strands of hair that drift along his brow. Usually they're tucked beneath his cap, even after-hours- an easy target for teasing amongst the guys. But tonight they're free, and you wonder at how soft they look. If Frankie would let you touch them, the tiny curls at his temple.

One eyebrow raises into your line of sight, interrupting your train of thought, and you realize he's caught you staring. Flushing, you wordlessly take the bottle back from him and sling another shot, before setting it down on the bed next to you.

After a beat of hesitation, you lean your head on his shoulder. “What's wrong, Catfish?”

You can feel him struggling to decide what to say. “Benny and Will caught me by the campfire. Scolded me for pulling such an idiotic stunt. You know the drill.”

“But then they slapped you on the back for it working out so well, right?” That's how their “scoldings” usually went.

“Yeah. Just not until after a solid helping of guilt. And I still haven't spoken to Santiago.”

You sigh. How could he not understand? You reach out and take his right hand in your left, entwining your fingers and pulling them toward you. Both of you happen to be wearing old, standard-issue PT shorts as pajamas; short enough for Frankie's hand to be resting on bare skin where you hold it against your leg.

“Frankie.” He seems reluctant to look you in the eye. “Hey,” you say, softer this time. He lifts his gaze. “It was an idiotic stunt. Brilliant, and it worked, but…” Frankie looks like he's bracing for a blow. “We thought we lost you, Frankie. How could we not be messed up by that?”

For that had been part of what made his plan so risky. Frankie hadn't counted on his team being so upset and distracted by his apparent loss that they could have been caught for real.

Seeming agitated, Frankie runs a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I heard it all earlier.”

You wonder if Benny and Will had mentioned, if they had noticed, just how uprooted you had felt. You and Santiago both; their unflappable teammates, nearly unhinged.

You wait until he looks at you again. All traces of moisture seem to have evaporated from your mouth. “I thought I lost you, Frankie,” you whisper.

He remains still as this realization unfolds, unfurling like a flower in the sun. Revealing in crystal clarity what you had both been carefully stepping around for months. Longer. His eyes rove over your face as if searching for any possibility of a joke, a catch; his breathing quickens as his gaze flickers over the rest of you, taking in your knees pressed together and your hands entwined above them.

He reaches out with his free hand and slowly, delicately cradles your face. His skin is callused where his thumb strokes your cheek. Slowly, as if this was a dream he didn't want to wake from, he dips his head toward you until he is only a breath away.

“That's never gonna happen, Mos.” The words hang in the space between you for a heartbeat, an eternity. Frankie's gaze drops to your mouth for an instant; you feel the glance zip through you with a physical certainty. One of you must lean forward, or both of you- but in the next moment, without any movement you're aware of, your lips meet.

If either of you had been unsure earlier, you weren't now. Frankie kisses you like you're the air he needs to breathe; your free hand clutches a fistful of his t-shirt in an effort to pull him even closer.

His lips are improbably soft compared to his pilots' hands. You lightly run your tongue along them and his mouth opens for you, warm and welcoming. Frankie lets out a muffled groan as he tastes you, his hand shifting back to grip the nape of your neck. A needy sound scrapes the back of your throat at the feeling, the discovery of how much you trust his hands there, and fuck, you realize- you’re in even deeper than you thought.

But as suddenly as it had started, it stops. Frankie pulls back just far enough for the two of you to look at each other. Your ragged breathing mingles in the space between you. A breeze outside ripples the bottom of the blanket-door, the cool air a welcome contrast to your heated skin.

Through the overwhelming desire hazing your thoughts, you realize you're still holding hands. You glance down your lap and laugh a little, easing some of the tension. Squeezing his hand, you look back up at him. He's smiling too, despite the fact that his torso is still twisted toward you, straining to be close to you.

“Are you...okay?” you venture.

“Never better,” he answers, almost absently. He disentangles your hands to rest his flat on your bare thigh, his thumb stroking the skin, and you close your eyes at the touch. That such a small motion could wash through your whole body, make you hollow with want...when you open your eyes again, Frankie is looking at you with such intensity it steals your breath. “I just want to be sure that you're okay. With this. Us.”

Gently holding his hand in place against your thigh, you shift your bottom half so it aligns with the top half of you, facing him. Tentatively, you rest your hands on Frankie's leg so as to still be touching him. “This isn't just about today, you know? What happened today may have...triggered it, but this isn't a new feeling. I want you, Frankie. I care about you.” You look him in the eye at the last sentence, praying you've said the right thing.

But oh, have you- because Frankie looks like he wants to devour you whole. “Fuck,” he growls, and surges into you, his mouth crashing into yours. He wraps an arm around your waist, bending you backward while hauling you against his body, which now kneels over yours.

Instinctively you throw your arms around him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you above the mattress. Heat surges through you at such a blatant demonstration of Frankie's strength, especially as his lips continue to move along your jaw and his teeth tug on your earlobe. “No more words,” he rasps, and that's all the warning you get before he's crawling the rest of the way up the bed, one arm holding you to him the entire time. Your feet scramble to help propel yourself along with him.

You've felt tantalizing brushes of Frankie’s muscles before, and now his every motion introduces the same tortuously brief sensations. When he finally lowers you to the bed his body chases yours, pressing himself into you, and you both groan aloud, finally able to give into the desire to sink into each other.

There's a dull thud and the sound of liquid sloshing as the tequila bottle is knocked off the bed, but Frankie seems to have only one thing on his mind. He is everywhere at once while you writhe beneath him; his teeth sink into your shoulder as he sucks possessive marks there, his hands span your hips and slide up your skin in a way that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you gasp, and he hums, dark and approving, from where his nose is tracing patterns down your belly.

“I like you saying my name, querida.” His breath is hot on your skin as he presses kisses up your ribs, steadily rucking up your shirt. He's probably already guessed that you aren't wearing a bra: you never do when the team is officially off-duty, a question that was once asked and quickly settled the first time it came up, in a camp much like this one.

You spare a thought as to if you should feel self-conscious that you're also not wearing underwear. After spending so much time sweating in jungles, you like to let things breathe when you can. You didn't plan for this to be happening tonight.

But then you imagine Frankie's reaction when he discovers your single bottom layer, and you decide not to worry.

You're lured out of your thoughts by Frankie's voice, coaxing, asking: “Take this off for me, dulzura?”

Barely a glance down at his beseeching eyes has you moving with impossible eagerness. You half sit up to oblige him, thinking that you would do just about anything with him sounding like that. His voice as rough as his hands and just as tangible against your skin, just as capable of inciting the slickness between your thighs.

You pull your shirt over your head, arching your back a little more than strictly necessary for him. Your nipples harden as they're exposed to the air, exposed to him- because Frankie is staring, his lips parting like he's already imagining them being on you.

You give in to the urge to plunge your hands into his hair, running the soft strands between your fingers and then tugging, reminding him that he can do more than imagine. His eyes snap to your face and you have half a second to register their wicked gleam before he's on you. His hands grace your breasts first, callused fingers as capable directing your body as they are his machines. You wonder if it's the tequila or his touch that has your head spinning so- his mouth warms you better than any liquor, and the slide of his tongue on your nipples makes you cry out.

Your hands scrabble at him during his ministrations, determined to wreck him as thoroughly as he’s wrecking you. You roll your hips into his thigh, wedged between your own, but any thoughts beyond repeating that single motion fly out of your head when you feel the hard length of his arousal. You rake your nails down his back- gently at first- but the guttural noise he makes when you do convinces you to do it again, harder. He shudders above you, and when you continue downward to squeeze his ass, he exhales shakily.

“Fuck me, querida.” Frankie sits up, his weight pinning your legs, rendering you unable to continue tormenting him.

“That’s the idea,” you say cheekily, before your jaw falls slack at the sight of him yanking his shirt over his head by the neck. He chuckles at the look on your face.

“You were saying something, Mosquito?” he quips, bending down to kiss you again. You both gasp at the sensation of your bare skin meeting. His kiss is searing, claiming, and you can’t get enough. How had you not given in to this before now? Every inch of him, every sound he makes, is familiar- you’ve gotten used to catching glimpses of him out in the field; you’ve heard him spill endearments and sweet sounds in your ear on the dance floor after one too many rounds (no matter that neither of you ever brought it up the next morning). But now, with the world tilted sideways and all your senses tuned to him at once- every sensation is utterly new, and you want them all.

You want Frankie to feel them too; you wrap your arms around him, caressing newly exposed skin as he sighs into your mouth. Your hands slip beneath his shorts to stroke the divots of his hip bones, but before you can reach for the maddening hardness between them he stops you, tearing his mouth from yours with a snarl.

“Not yet, dulzura,” he says. You've never seen his eyes so hooded with lust, the meaningful smirk playing on his lips. “Ladies first.”

Fuck, you’ve never been so turned on in your life. You whimper helplessly as his hands and mouth descend to the waistband of your shorts. Just barely coherent, you lift your hips so he can slide them off- and watch the smugness vanish from his expression.

“You’re not wearing- were you?” Frankie looks dumbfounded, his voice hoarse.

You almost laugh. As if you’d had a chance to slip off your panties without him seeing since you arrived? “I wasn’t, no. It’s an occasional habit.” It’s your turn smirk at him, broadly, as his expression immediately goes hazy, imagining the implications of that.

You squirm a little where you lie, your shorts pulled down just enough to reveal your sex. Laying there mostly naked, your bottom half restrained, you can already feel tension coiling in your core. Frankie’s attention focuses again at your movement. Everything feels hypersensitive against your skin: the thin sheets beneath you, Frankie’s knuckles on your thighs where he still grips your shorts. Even his gaze as he drags it down your body, coming to rest on where he’s just exposed.

He tugs your shorts down and over your feet. Sliding his hands back up you slowly, he eases your legs apart, pressing kisses as he goes. Each one warm and deliberate, soft and slightly ticklish from his facial hair. As he reaches the apex of your thighs his tongue traces hot lines toward where you want him- teasing, warning. He breathes your name, and your eyes meet.

You’ve been watching him make his way up your body, enthralled by the sight. You never imagined that sex with Frankie would be like this (to the point that you let yourself imagine sex with Frankie at all)- equal parts silly and smoldering, with an aura of reverence around the whole thing, like neither of you ever dreamed this would really happen. Now he refocuses on what’s closer to him: you, soaked by the evidence of just how much you want him. He circles your entrance with one thumb, testing, and spreads the wetness up to your clit. You gasp and buck your hips as he continues this circuit, back and forth, for several seconds.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan in a higher pitch, an unspoken plea for more.

In the time it takes you to register the satisfied smile and promising glint in his eyes, he’s lowered his head and licked a long, hot line directly up your center. Then he hooks his thumbs into you, spreading you open, and does it again.

“Fuck!” you swear and pant and grip the mattress as Frankie’s tongue works you, like nobody you’ve ever been with. You feel pinned down with the way he holds you open and you love it, like you’re for his pleasure and not the other way around. Like he could do this all night but oh, you’d never last that long. You have to remind yourself not to moan so loud as he sucks on your clit; the thin wooden walls of this hut feel too small for the feeling overtaking you as Frankie licks into you, fucking you with his tongue.

Thin walls, thin walls- “Frankie!” you cry desperately, all the muscles in your body contracting as his mouth brings you to the edge-

“Yes, querida please, let go for me,” he urges, and his rough, low voice combined with his mouth latching back onto you is all it takes for you to come, hips rearing, your body shuddering under him as pleasure pulses through you. With eager, steady strokes of his tongue, Frankie draws out your orgasm like he’s the one who never wants it to end.

As the high gradually passes, you move one hand to rest in his hair. “Stop,” you say weakly. You tug gently, but otherwise don’t move from where you lie with your eyes closed, still catching your breath.

You hear him chuckle; you don’t even want to think about how smug he probably looks. Frankie presses a last kiss to your inner thigh and then crawls up your body, pressing his still-clothed hips into yours.

“Is that all you can take, Mosquito?” he teases.

Instinctively you lift your hips to meet him- and your eyes fly open as his cock lines up with your center. Frankie lets out possibly the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard, a cut-off, huffing groan, and his eyes flutter shut as his face contorts.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, and the feel of his length (because it is a length, you think dizzily) pressing at your entrance, even encased in shorts, jolts you right back to life, thrumming with want. Your lips curve into a smile. “If that’s your reaction while you still have pants on, Catfish, I’m not sure you can take much more,” you drawl.

He grumbles something unintelligible in Spanish, lowering his head to nip at your neck. His hardness slides against you deliberately as you giggle and then gasp. When one large hand grips your hip you whimper, and Frankie’s husky voice sounds in your ear. “Those are the sounds I want to be hearing right now, dulzura.”

His commanding tone makes you flush with need, and you whimper again, wondering how this man could possibly give you so much bliss and still have you aching for more. You tug at his shorts. “Take these off.”

“Oh, you’re giving the orders now, huh?” Frankie raises an eyebrow, but slides off the bed to oblige. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband, and you suddenly find it hard to focus on anything else.

“Well, I can’t let you have all the fun,” you say, your mouth forming the words while all your attention is on his hips, the incremental amounts of skin being revealed as he slowly draws down his shorts.

Your mouth goes dry as the proud length of him springs free, his shorts finally falling to the floor. His cock looks just as long as it felt pressed against you, the tip gleaming with moisture, and you feel yourself clench at the thought of taking him inside you. You run your eyes back up him, following the trail of hair to the dusting over his chest, the span of his shoulders. Lost in your admiration of his beautiful, soft, strong body, you’re almost startled when you hear him speak.

“Like what you see?” Frankie’s gruff voice draws your attention back to his face. You feel a pang of surprise at the trepidation there, and you wonder what that eyebrow means this time. Is he...shy?

A smile fights to bloom on your face, but you hold it back, just for a moment. “Oh, do I,” you purr, shifting smoothly to stand in front of him. The wooden floor beneath your bare feet is rough but not splintery. He watches you move, lust darkening his gaze as he rakes it over you again.

“Francisco Morales,” you say. Your grin flowers fully across your face then, and you try to channel every ounce of suppressed affection you ever felt as you aim it at him.

A shy smile flickers across his face as he absorbs your affection; he has the gall to look almost surprised by it. Your exasperating, wonderful man. Thinking about everything that led you here makes your eyes feel hot again; the idea that he might have been gone without you ever telling him, showing him, what he really means to you.

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, burrowing your face into his chest. Frankie stifles a gasp as your hips press into him, but returns the gesture, understanding. He strokes your hair with one hand.

“It’s okay, querida. I’m here. I’ll always be here,” he vows softly.

You tilt your head up at his declaration, blinking watery eyes. He gently catches your chin and lowers his lips to yours. You sigh-moan into his kiss, letting it melt your worries away, stretching up on your toes to meet it equally. Frankie’s tongue is hot in your mouth as it intensifies; your knees feel weak. Finally you tear away from him with a gasp, breathing heavily.

“You okay, Mos?” Frankie’s hand rests on the back of your neck again. After that kiss, it makes it even more difficult to think clearly, but you’re more okay than you’ve ever been.

“Never better.” With a smile, you echo his words from earlier. Your hands wander down the muscles of his back, coming to settle on his now bare ass. You look at him from under your lashes and bite your lip.

He answers your look with an equally sensual smile, his hands caressing down your spine to mirror your position. Thick fingers massage your rear before gripping firmly, fitting your hips to his. Your eyes flutter shut. Frankie’s body slots against your own perfectly, all its curves and contours molding to yours like pieces of a puzzle box sliding smoothly into place, holding something secret and wonderful within.

All the nerves in your body zero in on the hard length pressed between you. Frankie’s cock burns with heat, and you can feel every ridge and vein where it rasps against your skin.

“Dulzura,” Frankie says, his mustache tickling your ear. “How do you feel about taking this back to the bed?”

You giggle and nod your consent, eyes shining. Frankie groans in relief and bundles you backward. Your back hits the mattress and he climbs atop you, your limbs tangling, kissing and caressing with mounting fervor. Your back arches and a breathy cry scrapes free as his cock drags through your sensitive folds. Frankie lets out a guttural moan at the feeling, clutching at you like he can’t get close enough.

“Frankie...’Fish,” you gasp, through the chaos of your thoughts. You have just enough willpower to pull back and meet his gaze. “Flip us over?”

Desire flares in his eyes. In a blurringly quick move, he spins you, and then you’re atop him, the base of his cock nestled against your sex. Frankie groans again at the sensation, seeming beyond words. He palms your thighs, your breasts. You feel short of breath, consumed by the need sweeping through you.

You wrap your hand around Frankie’s cock, stroking firmly. He makes a choked sound and his hips buck up from the bed.

“Mos,” he grits out. “Please.”

All you can do is nod. Rising up on your knees slightly, you position yourself over him, grasping his cock and running the tip of him through your wetness. Thighs trembling, you line him up at your entrance.

Frankie reaches for your free hand and entwines your fingers, prompting you to look up and meet his gaze. His hand squeezes yours in a wordless question.

Your heart swells, and you feel impossibly fond as you smile at him. Your Frankie. Even as far gone as you both are, he’s checking on you. Making you feel safe. In answer, you lower yourself down onto him.

The effect is swift and immediate. Your moans are loud enough to wake the stars; you forget everything but each other’s pleasure, the absolute euphoric rightness of this feeling.

Then you clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. “Shhh!” you remind him giddily.

Frankie looks utterly gone, his lips parted, awe and adoration on his face. The hair on his forehead is damp with sweat. “Move for me, querida,” he says, and the strained, pleading rasp in his voice shoots heat straight to your core.

You set a steady rhythm on him, your eyes fluttering shut as Frankie’s cock fills you, stretches you so deliciously you can already feel a familiar pressure building. The sinful ease with which he slides in and out of you is a testament to just how wet you are. His fingers stroke and squeeze your flesh in time with his vocal gasps, and when they brush your cheek, you open your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mumble. You’ve always thought Frankie was beautiful, but this…the muscles in his arms flex and pull through your movements. The intensity in his dark eyes as they drink in every inch of you, like he still can’t believe this happening. The restraint he’s showing, letting you set the pace, is evident in the tension you can feel in his body beneath you. It makes you grind your hips down, squeeze him, wanting to push past his cautiousness.

Frankie chokes back a shout at your change in rhythm, throwing his head back and exposing the length of his neck. Immediately you lean down to trace it with your tongue, relishing the taste of salt on his skin. He swears.

He grasps the back of your neck for the third time that night, and you whimper, ecstasy thrilling down your spine. “Please, Frankie,” you breathe, not even knowing what you’re asking for.

“Yes,” he answers roughly. He kisses you and then tugs you back upright. This time he thrusts up into you, hard, and the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the air. You cry out, needy and desperate, and Frankie growls in approval.

“Fuck, yes, Mos. Want to hear you, want you to feel good…” his praise stutters, some of it in Spanish now as his pace quickens.

Only Frankie could make you feel this good, and you make sure he knows it. He grips your hips firmly enough to bruise, but you don’t care; you want it, want him to mark you. Claim you, so there will never be any question about it again. You are his, completely.

“Frankie, my Frankie..” Pleas and praise tumble from your lips.

“Fuck, yeah.” Maybe he likes the idea of being yours, too, because he moans loudly in response. His palm splays against your side, slides across your skin until his thumb presses down on your clit.

Your nerves jolt. Fuck, you’re gonna come. Frankie’s thrusts speed up- had you said that out loud? Your breathing quickens; you can feel the tension rising in you as surely as a cresting wave.

“Mos,” Frankie gasps. “Can I..?” His eyes flicker to where your bodies connect.

You understand his meaning and your eyes widen. “Yes!” And the idea of him spilling himself inside you, the sudden force of his thrusts, the pressure of his thumb- the wave breaks.

Blinding pleasure crashes through you, a roaring in your ears muffling everything else. Distantly you feel yourself shake and keen; your walls pulse around Frankie’s cock, and then a new heat fills you as his hips slam into yours and stay there, buried deep. He groans, long and low in his throat.

There’s a moment of stillness as you both recover, the only sound your heaving breaths. Feeling wobbly, you topple forward, catching yourself with your palms on Frankie’s chest. You let out a soft groan as aftershocks ebb though you, every nerve singing.

“...Mos,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes still closed.

“Mm,” you manage, words still beyond your abilities.

“That was fucking amazing,” he breathes out the words on a sigh. He releases your hips to cover your hands with his. His eyes open. “You’re fucking amazing,” he says with more strength.

You can feel yourself blush. “Frankie...” You duck your head.

“Uh-uh, dulzura,” he scolds. He tips your chin back up. “You know I’ve always thought that about you.” He holds your gaze, his clear-eyed certainty so unlike the careful distance he kept before.

You lean down and press a kiss to his heart before snuggling into him, nose against his neck. He’s still inside you, softening slowly, and you savor the intimacy and connectedness of it. “I know,” you respond. “I’m just sorry I never did anything about it.”

Frankie strokes a soothing hand along your back. The air is close and humid after your exertions, and your skin is faintly damp with sweat. “Nothing to be sorry for. I never did anything either,” he points out.

You chuckle, a bit nervously. “Well, we’ve done something now.”

You can feel his laugh rumble through his chest, comforting, like the reverse of a cat purring on your lap. “No kidding.”

You wait, sensing he has more to say.

“Querida,” he prompts softly. You lift your head to look at him. His hair is a mess, all sweat-damp curls, and though his face is serious, his eyes are as soft as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart squeezes.

“I care about you too. You know our lives are crazy, and dangerous, so I was scared to say anything. Scared you didn’t feel the same. But...I can’t go back to you not knowing. I’m all in, Mos. If you want this, so do I.”

Frankie’s face is open, vulnerable. How could he possibly imagine that you’d want to go back? You shake your head at him. “Well, there’s no way I can top that speech, ‘Fish.” It feels like he’s holding his breath. You level an exasperated, affectionate look at him. “Of course I want this. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Before you’re even done speaking he’s kissing you, his lips and tongue saying what words cannot. As it deepens you shift forward, and Frankie’s cock slips out of you, causing you both to flinch and then laugh. His face crinkles adorably, and the moment makes you indescribably happy- the kind of contentment that comes from realizing you know exactly what you want. And right now, it’s this perfect, effortless bond you have with Frankie.

He gives you a shy smile. You lay your head down on his chest, overcome by a wave of satisfied tiredness. Idly you trace shapes across his abdomen with a finger while you speak. “You know, Catfish, your chest is much comfier than my bed. Mind if just I sleep here?”

He chuckles, and you think hearing Frankie’s laugh through his chest might be your new favorite sound. His arms, still wrapped around you, squeeze you lightly. “Please; stay.” He reaches out and clicks off the lantern. Despite the darkness, you get the feeling that both of you are still thinking, absorbing everything that just happened, but gradually your thoughts lull towards sleep.

Until Frankie’s voice slides through the dark: “I can’t believe you weren’t wearing underwear.”

---

A/N: Thank you for reading!! This is the first fic I’ve ever written, pls be nice. Fun fact, I originally intended for this to be a Frankie x Reader x Santi fic, but then decided I was getting too into the Frankie x Reader feels to do that. HOWEVER, if anyone is interested and even if no one asks lol, I might still write a threesome AU of this scenario

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fic #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #baby's first fic!!

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dancingazaleas · 4 years ago

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bertholdt hoover | mc donald’s

HELPLPPPP i love he 🥺 i love he so much

sorry if this was trash :-(( i was rlly sleepy when i wrote this. pls enjoy

warnings/notes: cursing, modern au, highschool au, bertholdt, reiner, marcel, and reader are seniors, porco is a junior, reader is marcel’s twin, bert is ambidextrous (my headcanon), hard pining, bert’s a music prodigy, female reader

when you meet him, it was at your house on a friday night.

porco and marcel had decided to have their obnoxious and messy friend group over at the house while your parents were away for the weekend doing god knows what.

you were just annoyed that your mom said their friends could come over.

it wasn’t that they were inheritaly bad people, it was just that they were overly loud and, somehow, always forgot to pick up their shit before they left. you’d always get your ass chewed out by your mom for it too.

you also hated going downstairs whenever they were there. if marcel or porco caught even a glimpse of you, they would pester you to play a round of super smash bros and wii sports with them and the group. whenever the two of them started to pester, usually reiner would join in until you would cave. reiner was annoying when it game to game nights.

so, you sat upstairs in your room trying to go to sleep and drown out their laughter and yelling, but you couldn’t. they were too fucking loud.

you texted both porco and marcel angrily, telling them ‘shut your fucking mouths i cant fucking sleep’. you concluded that they were too distracted to notice your texts when they continued to yell and laugh. you scoffed and decided that you’d just try to scroll through social media and rant to ymir over text.

30 minutes had passed and the group downstairs showed no signs of quieting down and you were starting to get hungry. so with a sigh, you made your way downstairs towards your kitchen with the intention of finding pizza flavored goldfish in mind.

you were glad you weren’t noticed when you passed by the living room, that meant no pizza flavored goldfish. you opened the door to the pantry only to find cereal, protein powder and bars, porco and marcel’s chips, and the food your mom and dad ate.

this meant they had used your food for this get together. you groaned loudly and slammed the door to the pantry shut. the echo of it immediately silenced the large group in the living room, which held your next homicide victims.

you stomped into the room, irritation written all over your face as you looked at your brothers, who were hugging each other in fear.

“first, you ignore my texts asking you to shut your big fucking mouths. then, you decided death when you chose to serve your friends my food.” the two teenage boys nodded wearily.

with a battle scream, you jumped over the coffee table and on top of them on the leather couch, fists swinging. they shrieked in fear, scrambling under your weight to get away as everyone else in the room laughed at the scene.

you sat on porco’s back, the main offender, and held his head up by digging your thumbs into the bones of his eyebrows.

“porco, if you want me off of your’s and marcel’s ass in the next week; you better drive me to fucking mc donald’s, get me food, and pay for it!!! deal?!” you shouted at him, kicking away the hand that was reaching around to shove you away.

he slammed him palm onto the couch two times, “okay, okay!!! deal!! now get your ass off of me!!!”

you let go of his face and got off of him, but not without giving him a hard slap to the side of the head.

reiner hooted and clapped his large hands together, “another wrestling victory for (name)!!!”

everyone laughed a little, and you did a little bow before plopping down next to pieck, a college student you met in junior year while she was a senior who you were actually quite close with.

“how do you always manage to get your ass kicked by (name) everytime we come here,” zeke, another friend you’d met in junior year while he was in his senior year, snickered at the misery of porco.

“ha ha,” porco gave a monotone laugh, “leave me alone old man.”

“porco, where’s my mc donalds,” you sang and watched marcel roll his eyes a little.

“(name), it’s 11 o’clock at night. i’m not going to get you fucking mc donalds,” porco snapped but cowered away when you made the slight movement of getting up onto your feet.

“bertholdt’ll drive ‘em!” reiner piped up and everyone turned to said bert.

you felt yourself getting flustered when you took a look at bertholdt. he was tall and lean guy cowering in the corner of your couch with dark red cheeks as he stared back at you. his hair was a dark brown and he had the prettiest light jade colored eyes with a hooked nose right between them.

“oh...,” you were stunned, which was a uncommon occurrence, and felt like it was just you and him, “yeah... i’m down. i don’t think we’ve met before.”

bertholdt gave a shy nod and stood up for the couch, and you noticed just how tall he was. before you could make a step towards him however, porco jumped to his feet and got between you.

“nope! changed my mind! get in the tr—,” you shoved him back onto the couch next to marcel, who had a small and gentle smile.

“bert’s gonna get some,” pieck teased with a giggle as she poked at your sides from her seat.

you laughed bashfully and slapped her hands away, telling bertholdt that you were ready to leave when he was. pieck seized her attacks when you followed after bertholdt when he made his way to your front door.

“don’t forget to use protection,” annie shouted nonchalantly, the whole room bursting into laughter.

after that, both you and bertholdt hurried to get out of the house and into his car.

which led you to now, sitting in the parking lot of the sketchy and dingy mc donald’s eating and talking.

“wait, so when reiner...,” you chew while laughing, “told you marcel had a twin, you thought it was a prank?”

bertholdt chuckles shyly and nods, “yeah. i just.. i never saw you around cause no one pointed you out when we were at school. reiner would do stuff like that ever since we were kids.”

you shake your head with a smile, “so, why’d you decide to transfer to titan high just a couple weeks ago?”

bertholdt thinks for a second, “better music program. reiner mentioned something about it to me once, so then i did my own research. titan has multiple opportunities for their students to get a chance at getting scholarships to prestigious universities for fine arts by competing. also, all my friends are here.”

your heart swells as the way bertholdt eyes shine as he speaks of the music program, so much that you forget to answer for a second.

“oh! so, what instrument do you play?”

“uhm... i play the cello, violin, viola, double bass,” he pauses, “i’m learning the harp, piano, lyre, and the guitar.”

you gape at him, “so you’re a prodigy?!”

he blushes and gives a small shrug, “i’ve never really considered myself as such... but i guess by definition i am.”

“th-then why the hell are you going to titan high?!”

“i still wanted to be a normal kid. my dad put me in public schools with decent music programs so i could still play. my favorites are the piano and the cello.”

“hold out your hand for a second,” you request, to which he obliges.

you take it into your own hand, eyes scanning over the palm of his massive hand. his fingers are worn and he has a writer’s bump on his middle finger despite it being his left hand. he has a bandaid on his pinky finger and the tips of his fingers are a flushed red as well as his knuckles. his nails are perfectly even and trimmed and you notice a scar on his thenar stretching to his radial longtitude crease. you run the tip of your finger over the scar, ignoring how bertholdt flinches at the contact.

bertholdt’s blushing and he feels like he’s going to pass out on the spot. the only other girls he’s been this close to were pieck, annie and his friend ymir, who all have girlfriends.

but then bertholdt feels the soft skin of your lips gently kissing at the scar on his hand with your eyes closed. his heart races and it feels like it’s beating out of his chest.

bert’s pretty sure he can see black dots in his vision.

you look him in the eyes now, “i know we haven’t known each other for that long, but you’re really beautiful, bert.”

bertholdt flushed cheeks turn pale as he faints.

#bertholdt fubar #bertholdt x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin manga #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #snk #snk bertholdt #snk fanfiction

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korpuskat · 4 years ago

Text

Cinnamon Burn [Dabi/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror]

Rating: Mature Word Count: 5,296 Summary: An incredibly drunk Dabi hits on you and things get a little out of hand- emotionally and physically. Contains: angst, self-depreciation, whiskey dick, drunken shenanigans,

Gender and Sex-neutral Reader Insert

Mild Dubcon warning (both parties are inebriated), mild emeto warning

=====

“Don’t let him overdo it, you don’t know what he gets like.” Himiko warns you- or perhaps she meant to direct it to Kurogiri, the only person actually making drinks. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, her mouth hanging open. You’re almost certain she’s only had one shot- something a deep scarlet that made her squeal in appreciation- but she leans hard on the bar’s counter and gestures vaguely with a knife, “He gets all waaa, waa, I’m Dabi,” She breaks off laughing and you can’t help but grin, even if her impression was terrible.

“The brat’s already wasted.” Dabi complains. You think it’s meant to be scathing, but it comes across as playful- like he’s too amused at Himiko’s frankly pathetic tolerance to really be annoyed at her equally pathetic impersonation. “Should get her home before she’s passed out here.”

“Whaaaat?” She squeals, stumbles forward until she’s hanging off your shoulders, one hand raised towards Dabi. “We’ve slept here before, what’s the big deal?”

“Cause Shigaraki’s drinking too for once, not going off to play with his games.” Dabi tips his glass towards your leader. Across the bar Shigaraki stiffens immediately, his sneer plainly visible with Father moved up a few inches so he can join you in drinking, already expecting the insult that’s coming. “Best leave before he remembers he’s never touched a-”

You smack Dabi’s arm, hiss out a shocked but not unamused, “Dabi!”

He turns towards you, pretends to rub at where the back of your hand has so obviously bruised him. “You’re drunker than you look, maybe you should be the one going home.”

“Thought you all wanted to celebrate a good mission, but here I am stuck with this.” Shigaraki spits, his free hand already raising towards his neck. “Everyone else is already gone, she’s drunk,” His head tips towards Himiko, who giggles too loud, “He’s an asshole,”

Dabi grins into his drink. “Nothing to do with the alcohol on that one.”

“And you,” Shigaraki turns towards you, his nails scraping across pale skin. “You’re not even drinking.”

“I’ve had a drink!” You protest, show off your long empty cup. Even you can admit it’s a shitty attempt to get them off your back.

“Nah, I agree with Crusty on this one.” Dabi says, taking your glass with too much dexterity for someone who’s at least three shots into the night.

“Fuck off.” Shigaraki turns on his heel and marches through the curtain, “Get the fuck out of my bar.”

Dabi sniggers, flaunts your empty glass again, urging Kurogiri to fill it again with whatever sweet concoction he’d made before. “C’mon Giri, give ‘em another drink.”

Foggy hands don’t move, his head still half-turned towards the curtain where Shigaraki had left. His voice rumbles out, “I don’t think that’s-”

“I’m fine, really, Kurogiri. Don’t mind him.” You wave your hand at Dabi’s scowl, choosing to ignore it and nodding towards Himiko- who was already falling asleep, halfway drooling on your shirt. “You mind sending this one home? Don’t think anyone’s at the safehouse in Kashikuu.”

Kurogiri hesitates, eyes up Dabi with a golden, measuring glance before audibly sighing. He crosses from behind the bar, gently taking her off your shoulder- you’re still not quite sure how his misty hands support weight, but he guides her into a dark, swirling portal. Himiko mumbles something as she goes and you wave at her, wish her a good night.

And just like that, you’re alone with him.

Dabi wastes no time. As soon as Kurogiri has stepped through, his knee comes up on the stool, boosting himself up and over the bar. He reaches with one arm, stretches as far as he can to grab some hidden bottle from behind the counter. “You’re no fun.” He complains, already pouring whatever he’s snatched into his cup- and then into your empty glass as well. “One more drink, then you can go be fucking boring somewhere else.”

You snort, “Wow, really persuasive.” He sets the drink before you- and before you can even pick it up, Dabi’s throwing his head back, the amber liquid disappearing behind scarred lips. “Slow down. What even is this?” You give the glass a sniff- cinnamon washes over your senses, makes you recoil and blink.

“Fireball.” He says, his voice gone low and rough from the alcohol. He doesn’t even hesitate, already pouring himself another shot. “And you’re too slow.”

You should’ve guessed with how many cartons of cigarettes he’d blow through on a mission what he was like with alcohol. “Fucking hell, Dabi.” You swallow down half the glass, throat burning- but you can’t tell if it’s the cinnamon or the alcohol.

“Just ‘cause you can’t handle a good time doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.” He lifts the shot glass, before looking over your shoulder. All you hear in turn is a heavy, echoing sigh. Dabi’s gaze turns to you, not bothering to watch Kurogiri return to his place behind the counter. He throws the drink back, not breaking eye contact as he rasps out, “Come on.”

He’s out of his seat before you realize what he’s doing. Right up next to you, he takes your glass and presses it to your lips. “Live a little.”

You shouldn’t. He’s clearly drunk and determined to seek trouble- and with everyone else gone, he’s got no options left but to make it himself. But he’s also right. The mission was pulled off perfectly, not a single hitch- you deserved a little fun. How often did you really get to enjoy Dabi’s company?

So you lay your fingers over Dabi’s on the glass and open your mouth. His mouth parts in a smirk so haughty that pulls at his staples. “Yeah, just like that…” You swallow, pinch your eyes and huff through the burn- bask in his quiet, rumbling praise. Dabi takes the glass, sets it too hard on the counter behind you, and grabs at your hands. “Get up.”

“What, why?” You cough.

“I want to see you dance.” He tugs again, and you’re sure he could force you out of the seat if he actually wanted to. But he wants you to want to.

You sputter, “No way, you’re way too drunk. Besides, I can’t dance.”

He laughs, loose and easy, “Now I really want you.” He steps closer, eases you off the cushioned seat. You don’t fight him. As he pulls away he grabs the still open bottle from the counter with his left hand, holding it by the plastic stem. Upright you watch as his steps waver, a little unsure of his balance.

“No, no, Dabi, come on…” You resist him weakly, embarrassment making your cheeks heat, but still let him drag you over towards the open space in front of the door. “There’s no music!” You complain, “I’m not nearly wasted enough to dance without music playing.”

He lifts his chin, pulls you close. “I’ll give you that. Hey, Kurogiri, you got any music?” You can only sigh, press your free hand against his chest.

“No, we had no reason to install speakers.” Glass squeaks as Kurogiri cleans it and you look over your shoulder to shoot him an apologetic look. You can’t read his amorphous face- his only response is the tightening of his drifting golden eyes.

“Guess we’ll have to rain check our dance.” You’re almost sad, if you’re entirely honest- you’ve never seen Dabi this relaxed, but it feels wrong, somehow. This feeling has been building up too long to finally acknowledge whatever does exist between you while he’s inebriated.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.” Dabi practically purrs, “What about this…” He trails off- and begins to hum. You can’t even place the tune, doubt it’s even a real song, the alcohol too heavy in his mind for him to think of anything other than the same few notes over and over again, winding in a up-beat melody. And with him holding your hand, he begins to dance.

You can’t help but laugh, the pink hue over his cheeks, his off-key humming in place of music, the off-balance way he moves, feet falling heavy where he means to be smooth. Maybe it’s the Fireball talking, but when he spins you, you let him, twirling at the end of his arm- and before you can really think, you’re joining him. Bobbing along with the made-up song that’s getting more and more erratic, unable to keep up with his own melody.

He shifts his weight back and forth, pulling you along with him as he circles the open space, wrapping your arm up into another spin- and catching you halfway through to pull your back flush to his chest. His warmth seeps through his shirt, but if it’s from his quirk or the alcohol you can’t tell- but it’s definitely the alcohol that strips off his inhibitions, lets him shamelessly grind up against your ass.

All at once you’re breathless, heat winding through your body- and you can’t help but push back against him. He sighs, half chuckling as his other arm crosses over your hips, still holding the bottle of Fireball. It pokes at your stomach, but the pressure gives you more friction so you can’t bring yourself to complain. He turns you both, spinning away from the bar as he backs off, lets you turn again to face him. He sways to his own tune, raises the bottle up. You watch, completely enraptured, as his lips wrap around the plastic rim and he drinks. Beads of amber escape between the edge of his mouth and the first staple, run down his chin, wavering side to side as they jump over the thick scars there. His throat bobs as he swallows- and lowers the jug again.

Your throat compulsively swallows with him, mouth suddenly dry. “You’re so drunk…” You laugh, airy and soft.

And something dark sparks in his eyes. He smiles without teeth, lips pressed tight- and he guides you to walk back and back- until he’s dropping your hand, coming to grab your chin and meet your mouth in a hasty, messy kiss. You gasp- and let yourself close your eyes, melt into his warm touch. It’s been so long coming and yet you never expected it all to finally boil over now.

Nor do you expect as soon as you let his tongue- unbearably hot and pierced twice- into your mouth is the sudden rush of liquid that follows. Cinnamon. Fireball.

You sputter, but Dabi only laughs, presses his hips against you again as you struggle to swallow down the drink he’s kissed to you. Your throat burns, but you let him lick into your mouth again, tasting nothing but his drink of choice. His piercings click against your teeth, but you can’t seem to mind with how his tongue rubs against yours. His hips roll against you again, his thigh pressed between your legs- and the meager pressure has you shuddering against his chest.

“You must be the drunk one,” He says, pulling away and fuck, with each word his mouth is practically steaming, puffs of air slipping between the staples in his cheeks. Something shifts in his voice. “If you’re finally letting me kiss you.”

Your face tightens, tries to decipher the change- but settle on pressing one palm against his chest. “You’re way too drunk for this.” You hesitate, then add “So am I.”

“Cause you’d give me a second look sober?” Bitterness. He steps away, his warm grasp gone from your skin, the room going cold.

You swallow thickly, try to fight the pleasant buzz in your head to follow his thoughts. You don’t have to try for long; Dabi steps back again, but the Fireball has shot his balance. He wobbles, foot not quite where he expected it to be. His arms fly out to balance himself, whiskey sloshing in its bottle and you don’t even have to think before you’re closing the distance, slotting yourself up against his side and taking his weight. “Careful,” You say, ignoring the growl from Dabi’s chest. “You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah? You gonna take me to bed, tuck me in?” He hisses, “Or are you too drunk for that, too?”

Exasperated, completely lost by the sudden shift in his mood, you spit back, “Gladly.” You nod towards Kurogiri- and fuck, Kurogiri’s been standing there through all of this, dutifully cleaning the glasses left over by the League’s short night of celebration and ignoring your inebriated nonsense. “Do you mind? I don’t… know where everyone else ended up, what safehouses are left.”

“Got my own place,” Dabi huffs. You blink, look up to him. You misheard him right? You knew Twice and Spinner had their own places to lay low, but as far as you knew- “Just open the portal.”

Gold eyes linger on you, even as the black fog slips over the edge of the counter, spreading wide. Off to the side you can still make out Kurogiri’s featureless face. “Are you quite sure?”

His worry is touching, but with Dabi so wasted he’s having trouble standing, surely you can handle yourself if he does get rowdy. “Yeah,” You say, wobble towards the opening. “You can close it after us, I’m sure it’ll be a while before he’s out.”

Dabi raises his free arm, waving the bottle he’s still holding. Fireball sloshes as he speaks, “I’m taking this.”

You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips. Not bothering to wait for a reply, you step through into the darkness. On the other side, you’re in some apartment. You blink, look around- because damn, it’s actually in pretty good shape for a squatter’s hole. The furniture is pretty retro, but aside from some light dust on some untouched shelving, it’s practically pristine. You have to rely on Dabi’s lead as he stumbles- veering off to the right as you struggle to keep him walking straight. The arm that wraps around you holds tighter as he sways, unsteady.

He leads you through a doorway tight enough that you can’t stay beside him- letting him walk through first then lean on the doorframe as you follow. Dabi takes the moment to take another big swallow of the whiskey to which you side-eye him, but at this point you’re not sure how much more damage it can really do.

“Holy shit.” You laugh as you realize he’s made it to the bedroom. "Holding out on us." The room has a nice, big bed with rumpled sheets and soft-looking pillows. The pillowcases don’t match the blanket and you wonder if he’s swiped them from somewhere else. You ease him onto the mattress, which groans and dips with his weight. You open your mouth to ask if he needs water or something, if you could leave him painkillers for tomorrow-

Plastic thuds against the floor, ringing as the bottle spins upright-

And Dabi’s hands grab your thighs. He pulls you forward, traps you between his legs- angles your mouth down. He bites at your lips with abandon, keeps you pressed close even as his hands waver, get lost over your body. You can’t help yourself, the alcohol has made you too loose, too pleased with his touch. You kiss back, lean into his touch.

His lips leave yours, nipping at your jawline- and your head tips back of its own volition, giving him permission to continue down your neck. “Come on,” He pleads between wet, sloppy kisses. “Just once, it’ll be worth it.” A groan slips from your throat as he meets your collarbones, teeth clamping over the thin skin there. So quiet you almost don’t hear him: “Don’t even have to look at me.”

What? You push at his chest, careful of his staples, trying to make any room between your bodies, any room to think- “Dabi?”

He doesn’t let you. One hand- warm, much too warm- presses at the back of your head, pulls you down to meet his mouth again. The hand still at your ass squeezes, makes you gasp- and Dabi’s tongue once more slides into your mouth. Hot and cinnamon-flavored, you can’t help but melt into his touch again, let one hand run over the length of his neck, feel over the rippling texture of his scars. He stiffens as you touch him, leaning back, away from you- but settles for pulling you along with him by the hands on your neck and butt.

The motion makes your head spin even with the meager amount you’d had- frankly you’re not sure how Dabi’s still functioning enough to keep his mouth moving against yours, even if his kisses are messy and not quite centered on your lips. You should really stop, stop rubbing your tongue against his, stop sliding the tip between the two hard edges of his barbells- but the hand on your ass slides up to your hip and rocks you down against him. Friction between your legs makes you sigh, closing your eyes and surrendering as his mouth again travels to your neck. His breath is hot, makes your skin erupt into sweat as he guides your hips to keep on working against him. You’re painfully needy- the warmth inside you has been building for too long, the minuscule pressure from Dabi’s strong thigh shouldn’t have you mewling and pliant, but you’re relaxing even more into his too-warm touch.

It’s not fair, you shouldn’t be coming undone with hardly any alcohol in your head while he’s practically unwavering. It’s hard to coordinate your hand worming between your bodies, even harder to remember how to undo his belt while his teeth scrape along your pulse. The click of metal is all you need to hear before you’re ripping at his jeans, ignoring the throaty laugh and the taunting “Can’t wait?” that rolls off his lips with far too much ease. You want to shut him up. Make him moan just like you, come undone with your touch--

and as your fingers slide under the elastic, your mind halts. Dabi keeps on nipping at your throat, sucking a dark mark while his hands try to keep your body sliding on his thigh- completely unaware. “Dabi?” You start, unsure what to say.

“Yeah, doll?” He hums against your skin, keeps you struggling to think straight. You bite your lip, squeeze softly between his legs- and Dabi goes completely still. His panting quiets, keeps his face hidden as the silence stretches on. A single huff of a laugh, exasperated, tired- “Fuck.” and another one follows. His dark hair waves at the corner of your eye as he shakes his head. He falls back flat onto the bed, arms limp at his sides. The heat and bravado in his voice has drained away, leaving something strange and foreign. Hollow. “Pathetic.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, raising one hand up to rub at his face, the skin stretching, pulling at his staples as he laughs emptily. “It’s fucking pathetic isn’t it? God damn fucking whiskey dick.” He laughs and it makes your chest ache. “Fucking finally get your attention and I can’t even get it up.”

“It happens, it’s okay,” You say, withdrawing your hand to rub soothing strokes over a patch of unscarred skin on his chest. “Just gotta sleep it off.”

“Bullshit.” He stops, stares up at the ceiling. In the darkness you watch as his brow knits, cerulean eyes dancing back and forth as he thinks. And then they settle down against the edge of his scars, staring at you. You blink once, can’t quite read what he’s thinking- before he’s grabbing you around your waist and flipping you over.

If falling forward made your world spin, this leaves you clutching desperately to Dabi’s coat as your vision swims- and his mouth is burning as his lips wrap around your earlobe. You shudder under him and he’s rumbling low in your ear, “Come on… I’ve waited so long,” his hand slots between your legs, “I want to watch you cum.”

It’s a fight to keep your legs from spreading, to stop your hands from shaking as they press weakly against his shoulders. “Dabi, stop…” He huffs against your ear, stilling as you speak. “You’re way too drunk, we can try again another time…”

Dabi raises himself up- and for the first time in what feels like hours there’s finally any space between you. And you wish there wasn’t; cerulean has turned ice-cold, withdrawn as he rolls himself onto his back. “Sure. Another time.” He repeats, twisting your words until they sound sinister. “If you’re so disgusted by me then just get out.”

disgusted.

The word rings in your head, the gears turning despite the heady liquor urging your mind to just stop. Ever so slowly you turn your head, peering at Dabi. Perhaps he’d look disinterested if you didn’t know him, if you didn’t see the tightness in his jaw, how his scarred throat ripples as he swallows compulsively. How his last batch of face-grabbing has torn at his scars. Your chest aches- the patch of scar tissue below his eye has curled back, strains against the staples. Blood runs along the edge, beading around each metal bar before running in one long streak down just in front of his ear where it meets up with the next line of his scars.

Alcohol still fuzzes your decision making- and with one wavering hand you reach for him. His blood is warm and sticky, smearing over your fingers as you touch his cheek. His head tips, but you can’t read his expression in the shadows. Your mouth feels numb from his hot kisses, “You’re bleeding.” You say, already kicking yourself.

You recognize the scowl that warps his face, so you swallow and work your way up onto one elbow. You have no idea what you’re doing, but you reach over and cup his far cheek. In the darkness you feel his eyelashes flutter against your palm as he closes his eyes. “Dabi,” You say quietly, draw him to look to you. Only when you find the tiniest slit of blue under his dark lashes do you continue. “You’re not disgusting.” His lip is already twitching to speak, so you press your thumb over it. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

His lower lip rubs rough against the pad of your thumb. “You’re here because of the Fireball. You’ll go crawling back to the bar as soon as you sober up.”

“I doubt it.” You let a wry smile stretch over your lips, surrender to the remaining Fireball in your veins. “How about I stay here ‘till we’re both sober, and then when I still want to suck your soul out of your dick in the morning-” Dabi snorts, can’t help how the corners of his mouth rise a fraction of an inch- “we can talk about it.” You wait for a moment, give him a chance to tell you to get the fuck out again, but it doesn’t come. “That sound okay?”

“You just want my nice bed.” He says, the playful deflection back in his voice. It’s nice, familiar after the unpleasant rawness of the night.

You laugh, “Oh, absolutely.” It is true- your own crashpad’s mattress was the first thing you could find on ebay but was still only a half-step above a mattress left on a street corner. “Sit up.”

He obeys with unsteady arms, muttering a little “Not how I imagined this going.” as you push his thick jacket off his arms, careful to not pull any more staples. You leave his shirt alone, but slide off the bed to yank at the ties to his boots. With the haze of alcohol still making your fingers loose, you give up halfway through and just pull them off his feet. He smirks as you get him to lift his hips and you work his jeans down his thighs, revealing more patchwork skin before you peel them off.

Freed of all uncomfortable clothing, Dabi immediately turns around on the mattress, pushing himself back and sinking under the covers, claiming the gray pillow as his own. The apartment is so damn nice, he doesn’t even disturb a layer of dust as he pats the blanket, summoning you over. You bite your lip, look to your own pants. You’re not quite drunk enough to pretend sleeping in these would be comfortable either- you earn yourself a brow raise as you fumble with your button for a moment before dropping your pants into the pile of his clothes.

“Don’t say anything.” You warn him as you slide into the bed with him. Already the blanket is warm, cozy. He grins wider.

“I didn’t say anything, doll.”

“Shut up.”

You weren’t sure how this would work before, but now it feels easy. He raises one arm, pushes it under the dark blue pillow and lets you curl up, flush with his side. Your exposed thighs meet his- makes your skin tingle, feeling his staples, the hairless skin of his scars. Heat rises in your cheeks and you dare to look up to him- your heart pounds in your chest.

His eyes, half-lidded and soft, are focused on you. Fingertips land on your arm, running up your skin, jumping from your shoulder to the curve of your jaw. His thumb strokes over your cheek, blunt nail dragging softly. This close you watch as his mouth tightens as though he’s about to speak- but his mismatched lips part and he sighs.

The spiced scent of the whiskey washes over you- and as he leans down you meet him halfway, let the taste of cinnamon cover your tongue. It’s slow, unhurried- his mouth lingering over yours between kisses and you let yourself savor each moment of his closeness. He meets your lips again- tipping your chin until the staples below his lips press against you, the coolness of the metal in contrast to his warm breath making you shiver. Your hands ghost up his sides, sneaking under his shirt to slide along the lines of his scars, over the shapes of muscles and ribs. Dabi withdraws then, but doesn’t go far. His hand again tips your face how he wants, forcing your chin down until he can reach your forehead. The kiss he lays there makes your eyes flutter closed.

Tension eases out of him by inches, occasionally interrupted by the drift of his fingers on your skin, brushing over your cheeks, over the back of your neck, tangling into your hair. The scratch of his nails over your scalp makes you hum in contentment and Dabi’s mouth quirks up as his eyes close again. In his warmth, it’s easy to relax, to nose closer to him until your face is tucked up against him and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you to sleep.

A wretched taste coats your teeth and no matter how much your tongue- which is uncomfortably thick and dry- rubs across your mouth, it lingers. You swallow and force your eyes open- only to groan. Vision blurred, you blink over and over to try and force some wetness to gather again. It takes a minute to remember where the fuck you were- but with the heat radiating from your side, the memories return quickly.

In the night you’d kicked the blanket half-off, revealing your bare leg from under the black fabric. With the warmth that’s still trapped by the blanket and the dampness of sweat that gathers along your neck and back, you can probably imagine why. Yet, you’re still side by side with him. He’s pushed the blanket down around his waist while his shirt has ridden up, revealing a twisting line of scars and staples that dips near his navel before winding off under the white of his rumpled shirt.

You grin, reach over and touch him- and he’s just as warm as expected. His healthy skin is taut, covering the muscles of his abdomen and as your fingers slide over his stomach, those muscles clench, twitch-

His hand catches yours and he groans- face twisting into a grimace.

“Sorry,” Your voice comes out rough with your dry throat. “Thought you were asleep.”

“Hung over.” If your voice was rough, his is in absolute tatters, deep and gravelly and caught in his throat. His hand releases yours to come up and lay over his face- which now you can see is pale and sickly, making his scars look even more purple. His fingers touch his cheek, pick at the blood that has dried from last night, peeling and sticking around his staples.

“Need water?” You ask, already beginning to scoot away from him- figure you’ll share a glass with him no matter how he answers.

“That eager to get away from me?” His reply rumbles. Without the fog of alcohol in his veins, he actually sounds teasing. Playful. Blue eyes burn into you through his dark lashes. You think you know better now.

So you come back to him, lean over him with one arm pressed to his pillows- the hand that had been on his face graces your hips. When you lean down, his chin lifts, meets you halfway. It’s simple, not the demanding kisses from last night- hardly more than your lips sliding over his. You break away just enough to rub your nose against his, feel the cool metal of his triple studs as you speak, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You don’t give him a chance to reply, pressing a quick peck to his half-open mouth and scooting off the bed. You don’t, however, miss the dazed look that tracks your body as you slide off the bed, nor the pleasantly surprised huff that follows. Dabi eases himself up onto his elbows to watch you as you make your way to the doorway, looking each way down the hallway there, unsure where the kitchen is. You turn back to ask- “Where’s-?”

And watch as Dabi scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes in the middle of the room, knocks over still-open the Fireball, as he dashes towards a cracked door- “Dabi?” Alarms set off in your head as you move to follow-- until the telltale sound of Dabi being sick echoes out of the bathroom.

Of course. You turn your back to him, give him a little privacy as he heaves and grab the Fireball and your clothes before the pool of amber alcohol can reach them. The strong smell of cinnamon makes your lip curl, your stomach flipping in protest, so you leave your clothes on the bed and take the offending bottle with you as you explore the little apartment.

Once you’re back in the room you’d teleported into last night, you spot the kitchen. You leave the bottle on the counter, pushing it as far into the corner as you can, then grab a spare rag left out. In the bathroom, Dabi’s heaving has been replaced by the running of the sink- the rush of water occasionally interrupted by what you suspected was his cupped hands or mouth. You peak in as you drop the rag on the floor and are rewarded with the sight of Dabi bent over the sink, forehead pressed to the metal faucet, one hand scooping water to pour onto the back of his neck. The collar of his shirt has turned transparent, clinging to his back.

“Still glad you stayed?” The tiled bathroom makes his voice echo strangely.

You think about it, mop up the Fireball with your foot. “Yeah.” His head turns, one blue eye peeking out at you from behind dark hair. You grin. “Really glad I kissed you before that, though.”

#Dabi #dabi x reader #Dabi x gn reader #Dabi x you #dabi x y/n #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero imagines #dabi fic #dabi fanfic #dabi imagine #gender neutral mc #gender neutral imagine #mha dabi #bnha dabi #kat talks #alcohol

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catracorner962 · 4 years ago

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Karaoke

I promise I can write something that’s pure fluff. See?!

In the newly renovated Fright Zone, the gang is having a party. Catra and Glimmer duet Shaggy. Catra has a surprise. --- AJ Michalka has a phenomenal voice and covers "Warriors" on the SheRa soundtrack. She does this in character as Catra and even says "Hey Adora," at the end, what else did you expect me to do with that except come up with an excuse for Catra to sing this for Adora? I'm sure this has been done before this is just my take. Also whenever I hear "Wasn't Me," or "Angel," by Shaggy I imagine Glimmer and Catra getting drunk and singing it.

Adora brought a hand to her nose, trying to cover her snorting laughter. Besider her Bow swayed in time to the music. Light flashed from above blue and pink.

“HA!!”

Adora couldn’t stop herself, exploding into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling the cocktail in her hand. Nearly sending pink liquid all over her white pants and halter top.

On the stage, her girlfriend and her best friend sang like they hadn’t a care in the world.

“How could I forget that I had given her an extra key? All this time she was standing there she never took her eyes off me!”

Glimmer sang into the mic, her purple leather skirt sparkling in the stage lights.

“Wooow! Yeah Glimmer!” Bow cheered, he took another sip of his beer. More delicately then anyone else around them and probably the only one with a modicum of sobriety left. All around them people sang along, swaying and trying to dance.

“To be a true player you have to know how to play!” Catra sang, winking at Adora from her place on the stage. Her hair had grown out again in the year after the war. Already falling just beyond her shoulders. Adora took a sip of her drink to conceal the blush rising in her cheeks.

“ To be a true player you have to know how to play, if she stay a night, convince her stay a day, Never admit to a word when she say. And if she claim, ah, you tell her, "Baby, no way"

“But she caught me on the counter!” Glimmer’s voice cracked but she kept going,

“It wasn’t me!” Catra leaned forward into the mic.

“Saw me banging on the sofa!” Glimmer laughed, leaning in to meet Catra halfway.

“It wasn’t me!”

“I even had her in the shower!”

“They’re not bad,” Bow admitted whispering in Adora’s ear. The blonde nodded, pulling a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Catra had convinced her to wear it down for once.

“Saw the marks on my shoulder!” Glimmer and Catra sang in unison. Catra unsheathed her claws in flash, winking again, this time a little more suggestively at her girlfriend in the audience. Cheers erupted throughout the bar, an eager welcome Adora thought, her chest warming. To have Catra greeted with rounds of applause rather than boos and hisses and threats.

“ Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. I had tried to keep her from what she was about to see, why should she believe me when I told her it wasn't me.”

Glimmer and Catra belted through the mic. It was all Adora could do not to transform into Shera. Just the sight of seeing Catra in the limelight, black pants held up by suspenders, her white shirt open just a tad too loose. She took a swig of her whisky mid chorus and continued to sing.

“I have to hand it to Scorpia and Perfuma; they've really done wonders with the Fright Zone,” Bow mused. He clapped along to the music and finished his drink.

“They sure have!” Adora answered, finally turning her attention from the stage. “Glad they were able to renovate the place into a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance Mermista’s groan could be heard, Adora turned. Seahawk and the water princess sat at one of the tables, the pirate’s eyes wide with amazement at the flaming martini set down before him.

“Should I….?” Adora made a b-line towards their table. Mermista flunk out her hand, a spray of water dousing the flames.

“Just drink it,” she groaned to Seahawk’s evident dismay. Adora bit back a grin. It had been awhile since they’d been able to just kickback and relax, indulge even. Post-war meant bringing magic to all the galaxy. Which meant traveling around, squashing the last of Prime’s brotherhood. Plus meetings after meetings and much needed reconciliation between Catra, Entrapta, Wrong Hordak, Scorpia and everyone else. It had been trying and difficult and the work was far from finished. But tonight, tonight was a chance to simply let loose.

“Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. How could I forget that I had, given her an extra key, All this time she was standing there, she never took her eyes off me!!” Glimmer and Catra finished in unison. Again cheers lifted from the crowd. Glimmer bowed, losing her balance until Catra caught her by the arm to steady her and they made their way down the stage.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Scorpia’s face nearly matched the color of her claws. “That was..I don’t think I understood half those words! But uhh next, next...we have...Perfuma! Who I’ve been told is going to do an...an interpretive dance called Ode to Rain, so that will be….uhh….fantastic.” Scorpia laughed nervously but clapped all the same while Perfuma seemingly floated up the stage.

“Hey!” Glimmer greeted Adora with a hug and Bow with a kiss.

“You were great!” Bow put his arm around her waist. “Who knew you and Catra could duet so well together!”

Glimmer laughed, full and hearty, accepting a glass of sparkling wine from Bow.

“Where is Catra?” Adora looked around the crowd. “I thought she came down with you?”

“She said she had to get ready for something,” Glimmer shrugged.

Adora nodded, trying to quell the bubble of anxiety that threatened to rise.

Catra would be fine, she can be left alone. She’s not a child. She’s perfectly capable.

Bodies pressed against Adora in the maylay of the crowd. Talking and drinking and laughing. The lights flashed all around them. Dizzying.

There’s so many people here….what if...there could be….threats. Some clone we forgot?

Someone wanting to take Catra down?

Adora forced herself to breathe, gripping her glass tight.

“Adora, you alright?” Glimmer touched her arm.

“Yes!” She smiled automatically, “I’m great!” She took a breath, eyes flicking upward as Perfuma left the stage.

Still no sign of Catra.

“It’s just...I worry sometimes...I worry about leaving Catra alone sometimes...what if there’s…”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when a cool light drifted across the crowd from above to the stage.

“Adora….you might want to…” Glimmer pointed. Adora followed her gaze, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Silhouetted against the limelight a lone figure stood before the mic. The outline of someone wearing a tight fitting black dress that fanned out toward the bottom. Catra’s tail swished nervously behind her, ears flicking. She stepped forward, the high slit of her dress revealing one leg as she moved. The light illuminating her freckled face, mismatched eyes gleaming.

“Oh my….” Adora took the last sip of her drink. Beside her bow gasped. Even Glimmer’s eyes stared wide with shock. The hub-bub of the crowd died instantly, everyone holding their breath. Even Emily and Entrapta, who were observing in the corner, fell silent.

Catra’s shaky inhale of breath sounded through the mic throughout the bar. Adora waited, stunned. Taking in her girlfriend, the deep V of her dress, the way she shifted her weight. Then finally, after a mini-eternity, Catra’s eyes slipped close and her voice drifted out:

“We're warriors, unstoppable. We feel the evil coming, and shadows all around.”

She sang low and haunting, each word a melodic whisper. Goosebumps rose on Adora’s skin.

“Danger surrounds us, but won't bring us down. We're on the edge of greatness, turning darkness to liiightt,”

Her voice undulated and moved like the waves, the crowd beginning to hum. She opened her eyes, gold and blue sparkling in the light. Catra’s gaze looked through the throngs of people finally meeting Adora’s. The blonde felt her knees shake, she passed her glass to Glimmer without looking away. Catra smiled,

“We're right beside you, ready to fight. We must be strong! And we must be brave! We gotta find every bit of strength that we have and never let it go!”

“Wooo!! Yaaaah!!!” People exclaimed, clapping. Catra’s smile widened, she took the mic from it’s stand, now walking across the stage, tall and proud and brimming with pride. Adora’s cheeks ached, beaming with a smile. She too clapped along.

“We're bound to this struggle, with mighty sword and flame, we'll never fail you, when you call our name.”

She turned, again meeting Adora’s radiant face across the audience. Their eyes met, though Adora could hardly see her through a fog of tears pressing against her eyes. Her heart expanded so fast and full she thought it would explode. Catra too grinned with confidence, revealing pointed fangs. Her eyes dazzled, shoulders lifting as she sang, not once looking away from Adora.

“Together we'll be heroes, joining forces as one. Strong as the steel we carry, we rise like a su...uu...uu...un!”

She hit the note perfectly, the whole bar erupting into ecstatic joy.

“Yeah Horde Scum!” Glimmer fist pumped at the air, jumping up and down. Off to the side of the stage, Perfuma pat Scorpia on the shoulder through her tears.

“That’s my wildcat!”

Catra sang through another round of the chorus, parading back and forth. People reached out from below towards her, laughing and whooping.

“Cause we're warriors, we are unstoppable,nothing's gonna get in our way. We're gonna win in the end….”

Catra sang through the last chorus, coming to stand gracefully before the microphone stand once more.

“We're gonna reach inside, still together and fight and never let it go. We must be strong…” She finished with a flourishing whisper. Looking at Adora from her poised position stage, she blinked, slowly, her own voice cracking with emotion.

“Hey Adora.”

Tears streamed down Adora’s face, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel herself glowing, transforming, this time brought on by pride and admiration for Catra. Catra who only sang in secret, in dark places, until now. Catra who had always deserved every bit of attention and affection and praise but never got it, until now. Catra who was so guarded who never let herself betray emotion or vulnerability, until now.

There was a white flash, people gasped, and Adora didn’t need to look down at herself to know she’d become Shera.

Catra climbed down from the stage with Scorpia’s assistance and made her way Adora, people parting for her instantly, cheering and clapping.

“Catra! Y...you! You’re…”

Catra’s lips cut off the rest of her sentence, pressing in a full deep kiss, nearly melting against Adora, well, Shera’s chest. Adora put her arms around her girlfriend holding her close, one hand to the small of her back. She had to control herself in public after all, though it was hard to do with her girlfriend looking so...so ravishingly gorgeous, so happy and exuberant. A new round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I knew you could sing,” she breathed, breaking the kiss only to press her forehead against Catra’s which required her to lean down a little more in this form. “But not...l...like that.”

Catra laughed, holding Adora’s hand to her face and leaning into her touch. The ruckus of people seemingly disappearing. The only thing that mattered, the center of her universe was already right in front of her.

“I love you,” Catra whispered.

“I love you too, so much.” Adora pulled her in for another kiss, the cheers escalating around them.

Catra rolled her eyes only to be shoved by Glimmer’s arms around her waist.

“Catra, where was that voice when we were singing?! I need to up my game!”

“That...that was beautiful Catra!” Bow wiped his eyes with his yellow jacket. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Alright, alright Sparkles,” she pulled away from Adora’s hold. “Next time we do Angel by Shaggy I’ll be sure to really sing it with pathos, yeah? And take it easy Arrow Boy your gonna get snot all over your jacket.”

Glimmer only rolled her eyes but gave Catra a kiss on the cheek.

“Well next rounds on me Wildcat!” Scorpia announced happily clapping Catra across the back gently. This time Catra didn’t stiffen or bristle at the touch but smirked. A testament to how far she’d come in such a short time. Adora could hardly contain her emotion.

“You may regret that Scorp.”

The night continued on, Catra changed back into more comfortable pants and dress-shirt. Rogeilo sang...well..grunt roared some prolonged ballad that no one but Lonnie understood. Mermista and Seahawk performed no less than seven shanties. A curtin was set on fire by the third one. Frosta entertained with a series of impressive ice sculptures and Double Trouble, dramatic as they were, impressions that left everyone’s sides sore from laughter. Scorpia closed out the evening, singing a rendition of “Beautiful,” by Christina Aguilera that had everyone, even Catra in tears by the end. Though Catra swore her eyes were she only irritated by the bright lights.

Adora put her arms around Catra from behind, still having advantage of being in her Shera form. Muscular arms holding her girlfriend close in the dark of the crowd while Scorpia, sang her last few notes. Catra swayed in tandem, tail going around her girlfriend’s leg, she leaned her back against Shera’s broad torso and hummed. Adora planted a kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. The mark of the Heart of Etheria glowing against her chest. In the mass of folks and the company of friends, lights glowing and Catra content in her arms, sniffled happily through tears of joy.

They had indeed won in the end.

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slutsofren · 4 years ago

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Danger Days Chapter 2: Kill All Your Friends

missed chapter 1? read here!

summary: things get thrown for a bit a loop at the dam when two strangers appear, revealing to be Joel, Tommy's younger brother and a young girl. their presence makes things a little tense but soon gets heated as danger follows them to thr power plant.

word count: 3,352

read on ao3 here

warnings: slight cursing, guns and well, canon-typical murder, hunter attack

notes: does anybody else look at joel and just wanna,,,, punch him in the face with kisses? just because he deserves it? no? only me?

Humid. It was always fucking humid. The lot of you have been out at the dam for nearly a week with little to be shown as progress. Things in Jackson were doing fine, wonderful even, and then the power went out. Turns out one of the turbines busted, it’s taken you and the whole group working day and night to repair it.

You leaned against the wall, taking in the greenery that was slowly encompassing the whole hydroelectric dam. It was rather beautiful. You glanced over to David, one of the few engineers from the old world, was hunched over the table mumbling softly to himself looking over a rather poorly drawn map of the turbines, trying to figure out what was going wrong. Then glanced to the far side of the courtyard where Tommy and Maria were, both engrossed in some tense conversation.

Whatever they were whisper-arguing about wasn’t going to be any of your business… until Maria finds you later on to vent at least. A little push off the wall and you grabbed your rifle before swinging it onto your back, groaning that your little break was probably over by now. Today you had guard duty. How fun.

You approached the duo, hoping to simmer down whatever was going on between them, likely both were stressed beyond hell for the turbine to come back on. Maria saw you first and put her hand on her face, rubbing away some tension. She said your name and pulled you into a half hug and you didn’t miss the small thanks she whispered in your ear for interrupting.

“Goin’ back on duty, want me to keep near the front gate?”

Maria nodded, “Sounds good. I’ll follow you in a minute.”

Tommy looked at you and gave you a friendly smile. Although you were casual friends with the man long before you met Maria, he knows where your loyalties lie but also knows you have his back on the field. When you first arrived at Jackson, bloodied and bruised, Maria didn’t trust you as far as she could have tossed you, but as things go, you both wormed into the others hearts through sheer sarcasm and your ‘take no shit’ attitude.

That’s when Tommy knew he was fucked being the only person between the two of you.

You left and went to go to your post, fanning out the jean jacket you were wearing to help relieve the humidity on your skin. The entrance to the hydroelectric dam was hellbent on attracting unwanted attention. For the near week you’ve been out here you had two bandit attacks, not to mention the ones back at Jackson, causing you to feel even stickier.

You found a spot up top the entrance to keep an eye out through the scope of your rifle, not noticing anything for another couple of hours, Maria not even coming by to her post. Just as you were going to call your shift, you noticed some slight movement across the concrete jungle of the remains of the power plant.

And some more movement.

Then more.

You grabbed your radio and phoned in, “Activity to the east. Two spotted.” The radio clicked and produced static until another click sounded.

Maria called back, “Eyes.”

“Noted. Out.”

With that, you knew exactly what to do. Everybody did. When it came down to it, nobody really did want a gunfight. When the code ‘eyes’ is spoken, it means shut up and watch. If the people pass, they go on their merry way. If they don’t, well, they typically don’t leave alive if they so much as hint at being a threat.

It’s unfortunate this is the way life is now but who are you to fight the changing tides.

You peek through your scope again, watching a dark haired man and a smaller woman work their way through the maze, figuring out how to cross the water. You took your eyes off the scope and began to watch them without the tool until they both began pushing at the gate. You grumble, “Contact made.”

Maria pops in behind you on your left and together you two and two more of the on duty guards on the other end of the gate point your rifles at the duo, revealing yourselves. The man doesn’t take notice until the girl points a gun at your companions then you and he backs off the entrance.

“Don’t even think about drawing your weapon! Tell the girl to drop hers. Now,” Maria shouts besides you.

The man backs up a couple steps, sticking his hand out to the girl, “Ellie, so as the lady says.”

She looks at him and puts her arms up in surrender, “Okay.”

Maria, still holding her rifle at the two strangers, says to the man, “Please tell me you're lost.”

“We didn’t know the place was occupied, we’re just trying to make our way through,” he points through the gate.

“Through to where?”

Then a deep voice picks up, “They're alright.”

You and Maria look away from the two down to the voice, seeing Tommy approaching the gate. “What, you know these people,” Maria asks him.

“I know him,” Tommy grumbles as he opens the gate, “He’s my goddamn brother.”

Oh.

You’d heard stories of the man before, of Joel Miller. From what Tommy has said before you recalled that the man was a bit of a brute, shut off from everybody after losing his daughter. He was a hunter and did some goddamned awful things in this world but quite frankly, who hasn’t? You know you have in the past to ensure your survival. It was something Tommy hated that his brother participated in but you couldn’t blame him, not after the shit you’ve seen and done.

Joel looked at his brother and his shoulders slumped, “Tommy.”

“Holy shit,” he said and moved past the safety of the gates and went straight to Joel, wrapping his arms around him.

“How you doin’, baby brother?”

Maria shot you a look that clearly stated she didn’t trust the man, despite being her brother-in-law, she heard the same stories you did. The man was a hunter, a murderer, even a smuggler. The very kind of people that don’t bode well with Jackson. With a sigh, you both put down your rifles and headed down to the gate to meet Joel and the girl, Ellie. She walked right up to the two men and you could faintly hear Tommy say, “You got fuckin’ old.”

“Easy - it’s gonna happen to you too,” Joel quipped.

Tommy took a step back, you watched how he shuffled on his feet and introduced Maria. “Be nice to her, she sorta runs things around here.”

“Ma’am.” Joel nods his head towards her. “Thanks for not blowing my head off.”

You roll your eyes at this from where you’re watching this all unfold, internally gagging at Joel’s whole ‘southern charm’ bit. Although he should be more grateful to you for not shooting him. Maria looks at Tommy beside her, “Would’ve been embarrassing, considering you’re my brother-in-law.”

An amused smile immediately hits your lips as you watch Joel try to absorb that information. He looks between the couple a few times before Tommy says, “We all gotta get wrangled up at some point.”

Maria turns to you and you lose the smile as she extends a hand for you to approach. “And this here is my second in command,” introducing you to Joel by giving him your first name and he nods his head, both of you deciding to not say a word to each other, silently sizing the other up. His eyes don’t leave yours but for a brief moment you swear his eyes flash down your body and back up as he lets out a low huff.

Oh, it’s on old man, you think.

Maria chuckles, noticing whatever the hell is happening between you two, and she turns towards the girl. “Ellie, right? What brings you through here?”

Ellie looks towards Joel for guidance, “Uh… it’s kind of a long story.”

Tommy immediately notices all the other eyes and ears watching this interaction unfold and puts his hand on Maria’s back, picking up the clear signal for some privacy. “Why don’t we bring ‘em inside?”

“Yeah, you hungry,” she asks Ellie.

“Starving,” the girl groans. You smile a bit, feeling pretty amused at this whole thing. From the stories you’ve been told about Joel it seemed very unlikely he’d be traveling with a companion, much less a child.

Tommy steps aside as you walk back through the gate first, Maria and Ellie behind you. “False alarm. They're friendlies,” you shout, walking further in the power plant leading the group. You take a quick glance around at the other scouts on shift, watching them watch the newcomers. Everybody was on edge, everybody was wary. The fact Tommy and Maria were letting some strangers in, in the midst of repairing an essential component to Jackson functioning properly, was not going past anybody.

You can hear Maria as she explains the stares and the heavily armed posts to Joel somewhere behind you, “We’ve been dealing with raids. Lots of bandits in this area.”

“It’s been quiet for a few days,” Tommy adds on, explaining why they answered at the gate so aggressively, as if it was any consolation of almost killing his brother and the girl.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I’d find you in Jackson.”

“Been trying to bring the plant back to life,” Tommy explains.

This time you chime in, “We had it working before, but one of the turbines went south about a week ago. Been tryin’ to fix it up.”

Tommy adjusts his rifle on his shoulder. “We have electricity Joel… had. We’ll get it running again.”

Ellie runs past you, approaching a few of the horses. “No way! You guys have horses.”

“We got a whole lot of ‘em,” Tommy tells her. You watch as she puts her hand on the brown and white one, petting it softly.

Beside the horse is Cherry, one of the few horse wranglers in Jackson, she was kind and sweet, pretty young too all things considered. She was tall and bulky from years of shoving heavy loads of hay, sometimes you’d wonder what it’d be like to get tossed around by her. She’s kind of notorious for winning hand-to-hand combat scenarios in the training hall. Not that you ever went.

Cherry tells Ellie about the horse and they get to talking about the animal. You also hear Charlie over your shoulder asking Tommy for help with one of the iron shoes on another horse. You take a few steps back then marching towards the warehouse, settling against the wall next to Earl and he gives you a brief nod acknowledging you. He’s sweet, you think, you’ve never spoken to him much but you recall he’s one of the maintenance men around Jackson. Thankfully he’s the silent type and you don’t have to try and make polite small talk with him.

As you both lean against the wall quietly, you begin watching both Ellie and Joel and how they’re assessing the environment. Ellie seems very excited petting the horse and talking to Cherry but Joel looks on edge, mirroring everyone else. He catches you staring and looks away slowly, now watching Ellie talk to Cherry about going riding later on.

Maria and Tommy make their way towards you and you push off, walking up the stairs and opening the door, you faintly hear Maria talk to Earl about heading back to Jackson. The door creaks open and you let Tommy, Joel, Ellie, then Maria into the warehouse until both your and Maria’s radios crackle. “Maria, we’re in the control room. Steve’s about to start it back up. Do you wanna come check it out?”

Maria sighs and mumbles back to you, “I’d rather eat with Ellie.”

You stifle a bit of a laugh at her candor in front of the others and Tommy interjects, “It’s my turn anyway. I’ll go.”

Joel then volunteers to go with his brother, telling Ellie to go with you and Maria but not before flashing you a look that says something akin to ‘try something and I’ll hunt you’.

Before Ellie could protest, Maria pulls her along. “C’mon, Ellie. Let’s give the boys some space.”

The three of you are relatively quiet leading back to the office room where the food was. Ellie kept looking over her shoulder, likely for Joel. You started wondering how he came across her, doubting any possibility she was his daughter. Tommy would have known if that were the case.

You gave a look over at Ellie, now seeing her a little closer. She looks slightly gaunt, likely hasn’t eaten in a few days you suspect which worries you a bit. No kid should have to go without.

“When was the last time you ate,” you ask her.

She ponders for a moment, “Before we got here I was pretty sure that the next squirrel I saw I was gonna eat.”

You and Maria raised your eyebrows at her admission before gently laughing as you reached the room. Maria pulls out some jars of fruit and a container of jerky from underneath and hands it to her, “Here, eat some of this. We have better options back in Jackson but while we don’t have a full service kitchen out here, this is the best we got.”

“That’s okay! I’ll eat almost anything at this point,” she openly admits. You take notice in how expressive she is, likely warming up to you and Maria now.

The three of you get to talking, making idle chatter over a few opened mason jars and a hefty supply of jerky. The more you talk with Ellie, the more you grow to like her. She’s got a mouth of a sailor and sarcasm that’d turn any old man running.

Wonder if she’s annoyed the hell out of Joel, you muse. Now you sit, chewing on fruit and imagining how easy it’d be to get under his skin. You’re torn out of your thoughts when the lights suddenly turn on, “Thank the damned stars! I’m ready to get out of here. Everybody is driving me up the wall.”

Maria throws a loose grape at you, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

“Anytime,” you wink.

“How long have you two known each other,” Ellie asks you both.

You pop a piece of fruit in your mouth, “Just two years. She was already married to Tommy when I arrived.”

“Can’t believe you’re married to his brother,” Ellie groans. “Joel is such a grump, can’t imagine how the other one is.”

Maria nods and smiles, still eating some of the peaches. “Oh, trust me. Some days I want to strangle him. Didn’t expect to ever meet Joel, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“I couldn’t recognize him, not even by that photo,” you say mindlessly, reaching for your canteen and drinking water.

Ellie picks her head up a little more, “Photo? What photo?”

Maria gets up from her seat and walks to one of the duffle bags in the other room, she searches around before she pulls out a photo and when she returns, hands it to Ellie. She gestures to you, “Her and Tommy went down to Texas about a year ago, he wanted to see what was left of his and Joel’s old life and scavenge what they could.”

“We didn’t find much,” you continue, “Tommy didn’t think he’d ever see his brother again, it was like his way of saying goodbye so he took this photo of him and a couple others.”

“Who’s the girl,” Ellie asks looking at the picture.

“Sarah.” You shift in your seat, not feeling entirely comfortable with this conversation anymore.

Maria finishes your sentence, “She was his daughter. She didn’t survive very long after the outbreak.”

Before you could try to steer the conversation in another direction, a loud siren echoed through the hall as shouts filled the warehouse.

“Bandits,” someone shouted as gunshots rang out.

You stand up and push Ellie behind you, looking for your rifle. It was too far away, tucked under one of the abandoned desks. “Fuck,” you shout as you see a handful of hunters enter the room.

Drawing the two handguns strapped to your thighs, you begin to take shots at them, not exactly hitting them where it was vital but enough to make them stumble and drop. Maria grabs you by the shoulder, “Let’s go!”

You retreat backwards into the closed off manager-type office and from the corner of your eye you see a man rise from the other side of a broken window and take aim at Ellie behind you. You whipped around and shoved against her with an ‘oof’ just as you hear something whizz past you and hit the wall above the two of you.

Hovering above Ellie, you keep her head down with your right hand, abandoning the gun beside her as you and Maria take alternating shots at the invaders. “Move, Ellie,” you tell her, lifting yourself up to give her room to maneuver into the office while shielding her.

Maria shuffles into the room after you and the girl, “There’s more coming in. We can’t take all of them.”

“Shit, okay,” you look around frantically. You were running low on bullets now, the rest of your spare ammunition was left in your backpack. In an entirely different area. Your eyes searched around the small room and you got Maria’s attention, together you pulled a nearby table into the office, barricading yourselves.

“Under the table, now,” she yells at Ellie then looks at you.“Guess we’ll have to wait for the men to save us,” she says a little bitterly.

Together, the three of you hid. Waiting for the echo of bullets to cease after what feels like a lifetime.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar voice of Tommy yelling and a gruff one responding, likely his brother. You released the breath you had been holding onto as the last gunshot rang out. Between you and Maria, Ellie had her hands over her ears and she slowly lowered them until jumping up and shouting “They’re all dead!”

Maria rose to her feet as Tommy and her called out for each other, “The kid’s with us!” She jumps out the shattered window and runs to her husband as they check over each other.

You help Ellie out the office room the same way and Joel looks over her the same way as she recalls the attack. “Joel, oh, man…,” Ellie begins talking so fast that she’s out of breath. “They were coming in from every direction and they were both like ‘we gotta run’ and so we dove over these tables and this huge guy blasts in with a shotgun-”

“Slow down, slow down. Listen-,” Joel cuts her off. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eye, “Hey, hey, are you hurt?”

“No!” She looks at you, “She protected me!”

Joel follows her gaze and you look him in the eye, cocking an eyebrow at him.

You’re not really competitive, you don’t really like attention either, but there was something about Joel fuckin’ Miller that really got to you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be mindful of everything, maybe it was the way his eyes roamed over your body, maybe it was the fact he was unfortunately making you squirm where you stood as his hardened glare seemed to see right through you, asking you to try him.

Whatever it was, his hardened stare made you quiver ever so slightly. You took a few very mindful steps away from the man, walking towards Maria and Tommy when you caught the tail end of whatever he was saying to your best friend, “- to talk.”

It seemed like that was not what Maria wanted to hear as her already pale face grew paler and her signature scowl etched back across her face.

#joel (the last of us)#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller / reader #joel tlou x reader insert #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #danger days fic #joel tlou x reader #asher's writing

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years ago

Conversation

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Introduction & Ch.1

"I have normal human fears and frailties, despite my faith."

"I’m terrified I won’t be there when they need me, that I won’t be able to give fully of myself to save them when the time comes. And the price of my failure, for them, would be too high."

"It was like nothing else mattered, nothing else could fill my eyes like the sight of him."

"Now, of course, I realize I was in shock at the time clammy skin, disorientation, that sort of thing."

"That night misted over my senses; even now, it seems more like a vivid dream than anything else."

"I had to watch. I couldn’t turn away."

"That night, I saw I had to protect him. He needed me, and it’s just as simple as that."

"Let’s just say what I know has come in handy."

"The best folks give the most of whatever they can."

"Think about it — would you like to go through childbirth every nine months from age 14 to 50?"

"We’re human beings, dammit!"

"I’ll always do anything I can to help, even if I’m royally pissed; I don’t expect thanks or money, either. But it would be nice to get some respect."

"I'm not alone in saying that I hate being patronized."

"Give an inch, they’ll take a mile" is what some of them think about us."

"The rhetoric a lot of them use sounds like the same crap bigots give when trying to “justify” why women and minorities shouldn’t have equal rights."

"Just once, I’d like to feel like an equal, a partner in all this."

"Ever think about how hard things would be without us?"

"I see by your scowl that doesn’t satisfy you."

"Think of it as normal family responsibilities, magnified a thousand times."

"It’s practically medieval!"

"I mean, it looks like such fun to turn into a wolf."

"There are connections like you wouldn’t believe. Completely outside the law, these people can get dirt on the opposition, perform b&e without leaving a trace and provide muscle no other boss can beat. All they ask is some capital, some boltholes and a little legal cover. Sweetest deal in the world!"

"What do I think about it? Imagine what it’d be like for someone to call you and say you’d missed out on a million dollars because you got one wrong number on the lottery ticket."

"Some are too caught up in the things of humans —chasing after money to have what advertisers insist they can’t do without, living their soap-opera lives and not seeing what the world is really all about. I pity them."

"There is sweeter revenge than death."

"I laugh with joy thinking how your heart will burst should you ever have to face him in battle."

"It’s a great honor to be who I am, who we are. But it’s scary, too."

"Families can quarrel, snarl and cut one another to the quick, but in times of trouble, they’ll stick together."

"God, Allah, Gaia, the Great Spirit or whoever gave us this job, so we have to do the best we can with it."

"Blood also fetters our lives in hatred as well as love, I’m afraid to say."

"I’m not saying this is a fact, but if she was abused, it might explain some things."

"I’m sorry, I can’t quite imagine a moment of sensual passion with someone I don’t love, much less hardly know!"

"In other words, it’s the connections that’re vital, not the money or the mileage."

"Many have wealth, but not all; lineage, not money, is most important."

"That’s a heavy price to pay in a harsh world."

"Self-sacrifice is also important."

"Sacrifice comes in terms of emotional costs, too."

"It’d be pretty stupid for me to become a gun-toting mercenary, for example."

"To put a positive spin on all this, I guess I’d say it’s nice to be needed."

"I admit I don’t really understand what it is or when it’ll be, but many’s the Irish tale where a small oversight wreaked terrible disaster."

"So I got online and made a few phone calls and tried to get the “truth” in as many forms as I could."

"The word “family” has come to mean a lot more things than the 1950s concept of mommy, daddy and two perfect children."

"Raising children is no bed of roses, either."

"Kids love to test their parents and see just how far they can push and still get away with it."

"There’s no way this could be easy."

"Some days, I have to bite my tongue, and that does get old."

"I was just too stupid and blind to see it."

"I always felt like I was split, alone, part of something I couldn’t name."

"Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love slowly lose her mind."

"There are some, well, bimbos."

"You know, the ones that like to control CEOs and topple careers."

"Here, try a piece of this chicken gizzard. I get ’em real cheap down at the butcher shop. No one else seems to want these extra parts. I grill ’em with a little barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Delicious! Thanksgiving’s always the best time, though. Then there’s turkey necks for the takin’!"

"Our families are pretty big, and we figure even the most distant cousin or friend of a friend’s part of the group."

"I’m sure you know, working with people all the time, how far thanks and a friendly smile go when you’re dead on your feet. It’s like the sun’s come out on a cloudy day."

"I mean, some of that stuff is long outdated!"

"It’s more a matter of belief and pureness of spirit, if you ask me."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"We’re steadfast and steady, yet vibrant and alive, warriors, artists, writers, musicians beyond compare."

"I don’t know if we can save them, but we won’t give up."

"To be tested and accepted by the greatest warriors in the world — no greater honor can we ask for."

"Think of us as the tiny little parts that hold a machine together. Maybe it could function without us, but not without a lot of wear and tear on the system. You get my drift."

"If leader seems weak, I test him. He shows strength, I stop."

"They’re the ones who are causing all the problems by rebelling against the people in charge. They need to settle down and just be content with what they’ve got, if you want my opinion."

"Why should I worry? It’s a clear day. Traffic’s light, but walking’s fine. You get to see where you’re going. I’ll hit a little town ’fore dark and trade a song or story for some food and a piece of floor."

"Revolutions are intolerable and inexcusable."

"The aristocracy attained their positions for a reason, for only the most worthy were chosen to lead, after all. If the

lower classes overthrow the aristocrats, anarchy is the sure result. One need only look at history; Can the Russians truly say their lot improved after they murdered the Romanovs?"

"History has always been a beloved subject to me."

"I pity those souls, displaced by fortune, who are ignorant of their heritage. How can one know who he is without knowing where he comes from? A man — or woman — is the sum of all who came before."

"Money is not the issue; many great families lost their fortunes, yet retain their nobility."

"It’s a poor teacher who doesn’t learn from her student; in this way, the knowledge of both increases."

"Dreams, of course, are the pathways of our souls; here rest our secret desires, fears and hopes."

"You doubt me. You don’t speak against me, but I can see your heart is dubious."

"There’s no greater glory than to serve the destiny of the universe."

"The lacerations looked exactly like the work of sharp teeth, deep into his flesh."

"I won’t go s’far as to say there’s undying loyalty, but we do have a lot of respect for each other."

"Were I as capable as my ancestors, I’d kill you now and never spare a second thought."

"No atonement can replace those lost children."

"Thus far, we have been lucky, but it’s just a matter of time before someone we don’t want sneaks in. It’s not that I want to close ranks by any means; I just wish we paid a little closer attention to who came in from the cold."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you think we’re a dime a dozen. I’d like to believe we’re a little more special than most."

"We’ve built too much for a rotten apple to spoil it all."

"I don’t believe this guy; it seems almost too perfect to be true!"

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #Werewolf the Apocalypse #wta #World Of Darkness #owod #kinfolk

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degeneratekitten · 4 years ago

Text

The reeducation of a King

!!!WARNING!!! Read the tags before continuing. If any of the tags upset you then you probably wont like it when it happens in the story.

This story was one of the first asks I got, I started it, but never finished, so here we go.

The woman in front of you looked incredibly tired. She had bags under her eyes, her skin was pale, and she looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Truthfully you had yet to even inform her that the King Lamia she had rescued off the street was classified more as a hunting type bitty. She’d been under the assumption, like many people who came to you with rescues, that all bitties could be kept like pets.

“So he’s gotten possessive of you, and he started trying to control your life?” You questioned making sure that you’d gotten her story straight.

“Yes!” She sighed, looking almost on the verge of tears. “I had to slip tranquilizers in his food so I could come here! He goes absolutely berserk if I leave his sight for even a moment, and he refuses to let me decide where we go!” She cried, soundly more and more like an abused spouse than a distraught pet owner. To be fair, this was an abusive relationship, one you would be more than willing to remedy. “He also always tries to tell me what kind of underwear I should wear and gets mad when I don't wear them!”

“That's very troubling.” You nodded, before inquiring about an important question. “How was it that he got so much control over you?”

The woman opened her mouth to answer only to snap her mouth shut again in a frown. She didn't seem to have an answer.

“I… I can't remember…” She mused, before continuing. “I guess I didn't realize it at first, but over time he just got worse and worse, and somehow he convinced me that it would all be ok if I did this, or that. He started getting threatening, baring his teeth whenever I even suggested doing something he didn't want. I was afraid he’d somehow escape his cage at night and kill me, so I just did what he wanted. I figured this was just a part of rescuing bitties. It wasn't until last week when he started to demand I stop seeing my mother that I realized how weird everything was. He’s a pet, not a boyfriend, and I won’t be controlled by a pet!” She stated, seeming to come to a firm resolution in her own mind.

You nodded at her. “I see, so I think I know how this all started. “ You smiled, giving the woman a look that seemed to calm her down.

“What?” She asked, fully invested in what you were going to say.

“You see, bitties are separated into two different types, ones that are pets, and others that are meant for more, violent situations. Lamia’s with venom are generally meant to be either guards, or exterminators. Your King is the former. His breed was designed to protect an owner, staying vigilant for all threats both physical and mental. Where this all went wrong is because your King was born and bred in the wild, where a lot of the original designs and personalities of bitties have changed.” The woman looked incredibly interested in what you were saying. Fully invested and curious, you loved customers like this.

“So his idea of protection involves being controlling?” She asked just waiting for you to elaborate.

“Yes and no. His ideas about protection are skewed more in favor of breeding. If he has a partner he has to hide them away so they can't get taken by another bitty or human. He has to provide everything for them then, food, shelter, warmth, stimulation, everything. The problem with a lot of bitties in recent generations is that their predisposition to be reliant on humans still applies even when they’re experiencing sexual urges. They expect and crave for their human owners to satisfy them sexually alongside everything else.” You watched as the woman's face twisted in disgust.

“Wait, so you’re saying that hes trying to fuck me?” She yelled, grossed out and shivered slightly.

“In short, yes, he wants to fuck you.” You deadpanned watching as the woman hugged herself.

“That's so messed up!” She exclaimed, which made you chuckle.

“I agree, but magic is weird, and magical constructs with origins like bitties are even weirder. But anyways, there is a way to fix this. A way to uncross his wires so to say, and make him desire other bitties rather than you. Which in turn should ease a lot of the behavior towards you. After I do that he should be more receptive to my traditional training in learning how to act more in line with the original king lamia’s.” You finished, watching as relief seemed to wash over the woman.

“So what needs to be done to uncross those wires?” She asked, to which you chuckled.

“Get him a mate.” You stated watching as the woman seemed to balk a little at how simple your answer was.

“Wait! It's that simple?! I could have done that myself.” She asked sitting up straight, shocked and a little giddy at the prospect. You laughed with her.

“Well, kind of, unfortunately if you get involved in the process and give him a new mate, he’d take it as a sign that he needs to fight the other bitty to mate with you. It’s better to let a third party do the introduction.”

“Oh… Well, if it gets him to stop wanting to fuck me I’m more than willing.” She smiled, seeming to realize that a huge weight was being lifted from her shoulder.

“So when can we start?” She added, looking at you with hope.

“Well first we have to pick out a new mate.”

-----

You’d gone over potential mates and your rates with the woman for the rest of the visit. You’d mentioned that a cherry would probably be best for the King, as they were incredibly meek and in need of the amount of attention that this particular King was ready to give, plus they weren't lamia so the chance of breeding while already small, was nearly impossible. The woman was excited over the idea, as she wanted a pet who was easier to cuddle with as opposed to her King who she had to keep far away from her sleeping arrangements.

You’d made sure to explain fully to her why although she had the best of intentions, King’s were not traditionally pets, and she needed to treat him accordingly. She could keep him as part of her family and give him a better home off the streets, but she needed to be careful not to let him take charge of her life anymore as next time he probably would kill her. She ended up taking this to heart, nodding her head as you led her to the door.

“I’ll make sure I read more on how I’m supposed to handle him.” She promised, leaving in her car. You’d set a date for that weekend to go and pick up the King, you needed a few days to get a suitable cherry and set up an area in which you could do everything that needed to be done.

---

Meeting the King in question, Moriarty, as he had aptly named himself, was an occasion that was sure to be violent. You had a thick jumpsuit on, with extra layers covering your arms and legs, combat boots your husband had bought you just for these situations, and heavy duty handling gloves on so he couldn’t bite you. You had some safety goggles on as well in case he tried to spit at you, and even your neck was covered by a long collar from your jumpsuit. You didn't take any chances with violent venomous lamia’s especially ones who had reason to believe that you were a threat. You’d nearly lost your brother that way when he’d insisted on trying to calm a venomous lamia without gear. He’d been in the hospital for two weeks and aptly served as yet another reminder that protection bitties were not to be taken lightly.

Your husband was dressed beside you in a similar getup, and he had insisted on taking at least one Squadron bitty with the two of you, said bitty was currently standing at military attention waiting for you to give him orders. He wore camo like most squadron bitties, with a black shirt, ripped off sleeves, a pair of smaller dog tags and miniature combat boots and a knife. He didn't have his ecto flesh summoned so his outfit was a little baggy. His dark green eyelights were focused on you, while his arms were situated behind his back.

You had planned to use magic if things got too bad, but it was always good to have a backup plan.

Squadrons were very similar to Edgies in terms of vocabulary and humor, the only real difference being that they were never overtly hostile to anyone outside of combat. They made dirty jokes all the time and cursed like sailors, but never called you cunt or assface unless they were set out to kill you.

“I’ll need you to stay outside until we give you a signal.” You said to the bitty, watching as he gave a toothsome grin and saluted you in response.

“Just gimmie da signal an I’ll rip em up ma'am.” He replied, forgoing his usual vulgar vocabulary in lieu of a more respectful tone. He gave you a nod as well to tell you not to worry about him and you turned towards your husband with a pleased expression.

“You said this is your best one so far? I’m impressed! He didn't even cuss at me!” You praised watching your husband's face light up.

“Yeah, he used to cuss more than the others but I straightened him out real quick, nothing a little friendly competition couldn't solve.”

Chuckling you turned your attention back towards the door again, and steeling yourself for the worst you knocked on the door. Hopefully she’d managed to tranquilize her king.

“Hello! We’re here today for Miss Shelby! We’re here to pick up the package like we discussed yesterday.

“*GASP* MOTHER! HOW DARE YOU! I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO OUTSIDE! YOU DISOBEYED ME!” You heard the loud, unmistakable shriek of the problematic bitty then a mumble in response before there was a loud crash and the shriek of a woman. Worried that maybe the King had gotten more violent, you tested the doorknob, relieved to find it unlocked.

“Hello, Miss Shelby! I’m coming in!” You shouted, before bursting into the home.

What you saw caused adrenaline to surge through you.

The king in question was wrapped tightly around Shelby’s arm, hood spread out,tail swishing agitated, and teeth bared. He was on the verge of attacking.

Looking at Shelby you could tell how nervous, how terrified she was as she stared at the King’s teeth. You noticed that a plate of noodles lay shattered on the floor.

“Oh thank god.” Shelby breathed out, relieved to see you.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! BARGING IN HERE! MOTHER TELL THEM TO LEAVE!” The king hissed, moving itself so he was partially wrapped around Shelby’s neck, he had placed himself right next to Shelby’s ear with his teeth still bared and from what you could tell, his fangs were already secreting venom. He was very ready to bite.

“M-m-m-mori! She’s a guest, I invited her over for dinner!” Shelby tried to explain, earning herself a shriek in the ear.

“I DIDN'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR THAT! WE AREN'T ACCEPTING COMPANY! TELL HER TO LEAVE!” Moriarty screeched, tail seeming to tighten around her neck.

Shelby moved to try and loosen the tail only to earn a menacing hiss from the king, your eyes widened a bit as you tried to think of the best course of action.

Moving towards her would probably cause him to tighten his grip, talking could yield good results but with how agitated he was it would probably only buy you time before he bit her. Maybe if you challenged him he would take the bait, but you couldn't do that if you wanted him to respond to you in training.

Suddenly you were incredibly glad that your husband had insisted on bringing a squadron bitty. The king would probably never see it again, and it would leave you in a neutral position from which to train the king.

You clicked your tongue at the king, not making any sudden movement, he hissed at the sound, and seemed to be hyper focused on you, before its attention snapped to the door, as a bulked up squadron bitty stormed in.

“The fuck is this cunt ordering ya round for!?” The squadron bitty bellowed, he was still minimal size, but you yourself knew better than to underestimate him.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS! LEAVE MY TERRITORY AT ONCE INSOLENT CRETIN!” The King hissed, attention snapping to the other bitty.

Shaking your head, you looked at the little squadron bitty and gave a firm order. “Nothing crazy.” You stated, watching as he frowned in displeasure.

“Fuckin fine. Yer not a lot a fun are ya.” He stated as he stepped forward, chest puffing out as he readied himself for a fight.

“FIGHT ME BITCH!” He screeched out simply at the king, using the most direct way in which to challenge the king.

Taking the bait immediately, the King slithered down in front of his owner, hood spread, and fangs dripping poison. You took a step back, and whispered at Shelby to slowly back away.

There wasn't much of a fight, the King lunged and ended up shot by a tranquilizer as the Squadron bitty jumped out of the way for your husband to get a clear shot of the King’s hood.

You’d had these instant magic tranquilizers well before the pure bite incident, but they simply did not work on large bitties, they were meant for smaller bitties, and were tested extensively to work instantly said bitties.

There was no need for an actual fight, and really the simplest solutions were generally the best. You nodded at the Squadron bitty, as he immediately made to restrain the King bitty and brought him over to you, where you put a special muzzle on its skull. After which the squadron dragged it by the tail to a pre-prepared cage.

Having completed your business, you turned towards Shelby, noticing how shocked she seemed. It wasn't uncommon, people tended to be shocked when the people, or “pets” in this instance, that had been tormenting them were taken down. You took the lead, grabbing a shock blanket that you had also, prepared ahead of time and wrapping it around her.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” You asked, as you secretly examined her for any bites or cuts. Luckily the only injuries she had were bruises from where the king had squeezed her arm too tightly.

Shelby nodded dumbly at you, before grabbing her phone and scanning her finger to unlock it. “Could you… Call my mother… I was too scared to have her over before.” She said, then plopping down in a nearby seat.

You nodded at her. “I’ll wait with you until she gets here.” You said, before pressing the call button on the phone.

---

The very first step in rehabilitating the King wasn’t to immediately jump into training. It was a little different from that. You’d brought your client over after she’d calmed down in order for her to pick out one of the Cherries you’d set aside for the King. You’d set aside 5 of them, not that it really made much of a difference as they were all crying at the prospect of meeting someone new. Most bitties were identical, luckily there were” some notable differences between these cherries, mutations weren’t always bad.

The customer came in, and almost immediately grimaced at the crying Cherries. You’d warned her that they were high maintenance pets, but also assured her that with a King around a lot of the more intolerable aspects would almost certainly be enjoyed by the King.

She did however warm up to the Cherries after a little play time, and after finding out that one of the Cherries enjoyed eating literally ANYTHING, she picked that one in a heartbeat. She stated that she loved cooking new things and someone to enjoy new things with was something she struggled with.

After that she bonded for a short while, she left, she had wanted to hear the cherry say “mommy” before leaving but you insisted that that was a TERRIBLE idea.

After she left, you shoved a heat inducing gummy down a screaming Cherries throat and quite literally threw him into the pen with the King. If you heard hysterical pleas for help, and screams to “shut up slut.” You ignored them, that would sort itself out naturally.

---

You monitored the situation between the King and Cherry loosely. It went exactly as you expected it to. The King violently fucked the Cherry, while the Cherry simultaneously cried for more and pleaded for it to stop at the same time.

By the end of the week long fuck fest there were no more pleas for stopping, only begging for more. Until finally, the King had firmly marked the Cherry as its own, and was holding it close and whispering as sweet of compliments as it could muster. The Cherry was crying, as usual, but at the offer of food it had accepted the King as its mate.

You waited another week, allowing the King to thoroughly fuss over the Cherry and fuck away its excess of aggression, before entering the pen. You entered with food, eyeing the King to make sure he didn't pounce. He has significantly calmed down, instead of hissing and threatening he stared at you warily while he held his wide eyed mate close. You set the food down, and nodded.

“I see you enjoy the mate I’ve prepared for you.” You stated, watching as the King’s head tilted to the side as he questioned the implications of that statement.

You left before he could question you. Letting the tranquilizers in the food take effect before you went to collect your newest project.

---

The King awoke in a cage alone while a hysterical Cherry cried as it reached out to him from a cage opposite of him.

You didn't have gloves on as you opened the cage of the Cherry, and you would never admit to smiling at the reaction of the King as you roughly handled the Cherry.

“RELEASSSSSSE MY MATE AT ONCE INSSSSSOLENT HUMAN!” He hissed, utterly incensed at the handling of his new mate. You shook your head, and placed the Cherry on a table, he cowered into your hand, hiding his face as he reached for his mate, but at the same time he still recognized you as a human to trust, you’d bottle fed him after all.

“Ppp-please I want to be with Mori.” He pleaded with you hugging your thumb as his tears colored the edge of his sockets.

You replied softly. “I know, but we have to correct some of his behavior first.” You replied as you shook him off.

He landed on his behind, more tears welling up in his eyes. Before you grabbed a shock collar, and placed it around the neck of the Cherry.

“What’s this’ moAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!” You wasted absolutely no time in shocking the Cherry, watching as its tears pooled on the table, and pissed soaked down its bare legs. The king had thoroughly destroyed any clothing that had been on the Cherry in its vigor. You could make out the small cuts on its form, the first few days had been incredibly rough in terms of sex, not enough to kill the Cherry, but certainly enough that you wondered why it wasnt terrified of the King.

The Cherry flopped on the table, while you looked at the King who’s hood was spread as he hissed, spit and thrashed about in his cage. It was bolted down so there was no way for him to tip it, but it was still quite the sight.

Nodding in satisfaction you placed the sobbing Cherry back in his cage across from the King, where he reached out desperately towards the Cherry intent on comfort, even if that wasn’t his strong suit.

“RELEASSSSE ME AT ONCCCCE! I MUSST COMFORT MY MATE!” He screeched at the same time trying to thrash his tail to strike out at you.

“No comfort will come to your Cherry until we have fixed your behaviors.” You hummed, as you pulled on thick arm coverings and gloves. You approached the King’s cage and unlatched it, grasping around the King’s throat as he attempted to bite your outstretched hand through the gloves. A calculated move in order to direct him as you pleased.

You wrestled with the King for a while, rolling your eyes and smashing him against the table as he refused to loosen his bite. The King went limp for just a moment while you strapped him to the table with special restraints. His skull wasn't even cracked as you’d gone easy on him, it also helped that his breed was tougher than the pet variety.

Being strapped down by his neck made the king easier to handle, even when he snapped out of his daze and began to thrash again, this time though without the threat of fangs. It was easy for you to pin down his tail and arms down long enough to strap them to the table.

This was all just a show of force, to prove that she could do whatever she wanted to his mate, and he could do nothing about it. She needed him as violent as possible in response to threats to his mate, she needed him to stall in relation to his street taught values, if only so she could delete them.

You finished strapping him to the table, and picked up the remote to your mini shock collar, pausing for a moment and wondering if you should maybe start with pulling teeth first. However you needed a far more compliant King than you had currently, and it helped that the Cherry’s cries were beginning to grate on your nerves.

Looking over at the Cherry you sighed, it was still crying, smelly and pitiful as it cowered in the corner furthest from you and the King, too petrified of the violence to move. You waved the button in front of the king who hissed at the sight.

“DO NOT HARM MY MATE YOU WORTHLESSSSSS HUMAN!” He screeched, as you shook your head and pressed the button. As expected the sight of his mate in pain sent him into a frenzy, he spit, while you mocked him for his inability to do anything. You approached the cage of the Cherry intent on subduing the King in the most effective way possible.

“NOOOOOOO!” The King continued to screech. While the Cherry recovered from the shock cowered and begged for you not to hurt him. Of course, that wouldn't happen.

You carefully took the soiled Cherry out of his cage once more, and placed him next to the King, the King seemed to calm as the Cherry strained for its mate. You let them reunite for a moment, if only to grab a bitty sized dental gag and pry the King's mouth open. Once successful, despite the Cherry’s begging. You once more picked up the Cherry, and placed his hand into the King’s mouth, before carefully pricking him with the King’s fangs.

The unholy screech of the King was nothing like the ones before. His venom was incredibly effective, and on a creature as small as the Cherry its effect was seen immediately.

Pale faced and beginning to flush redder than normal, the Cherries tears became more frantic. He blubbered the same as normal as he tried to free himself from your grasp. Plopping him next to the King you pressed the button of the shock collar again and held. Looking the King straight in the eyes as it began to cry red tears. There was no understanding past the dental gag. But you knew well enough what was going on. A sinister smile graced your lips as you turned away from the king, taking the Cherry with you as you left the room. As far as the King knew, his mate was dead, dead by its own hand.

---

You returned shortly, having cured the Cherry from the King’s venom and stalled it in order to erase its memory of the training. Standard practice for once a bitty had been fully trained, the training would remain while the memory did not, no risk of blabbing to customers who really had no idea what was happening. It was necessary as while you trained the King the Cherry would bond with its new mother.

The King was still sobbing as you returned, and you used the lack of struggle to your advantage.

“It's a shame he had to die because of you.” You egged on, watching as the King seemed to deflate even further. You took that moment to put on your gloves and remove the restraints. The King didn't attack, and your smile was as venomous as the King as you removed the dental gag.

“WHY?” The King asked, and you couldn't help but chuckle, as you started to stroke its head soothingly, as you spit out harsh words. “That's because you are a bad bitty. A horrible protector.” The king flinched at that but immediately you turned it around. “But still so brave, and handsome.” Of course, the contrary information stilled the King, stalling him, and allowing you to reach for his AI, and stroke it. His eyelights buzzed a little, as you wiped away his need to monopolize his mate, his “charges.” There was of course more work to be done, but he would be too grief stricken to struggle. Just the way you needed him. You supposed it was about time to pull out some teeth.

---

By the time your bitty behavioral therapy was done, the King was a model example of a protection bitty. He was still a horribly bossy creature, but he no longer insisted on isolating his charges or displayed sexual desires outside of for his mate. He focused entirely on “protecting” and only grew violent when there was sufficient threat.

Meanwhile, the Cherry had not stopped crying for his mate until he met his new mother. He was of course still sad, but as most pet variety bitties are ought to do, the introduction of a new mommy or daddy tends to cheer them up instantly. Which was good, as the Chery, newly dubbed Sebastian, had sufficient time to bond with his new mother without the interference of a mate. The client learned easily to care for a Cherry, while also undergoing coaching from the rancher in order to be an effective King owner.

On the day that the King was to return to his owners care. The owner had been nervous, she had lost confidence in owning bitties, and while Sebastian had helped, it still did not erase the nervousness she felt even after 2 months.

“I’m not sure about taking him back.” She stated, holding the Cherry close to her heart, he was as usual, teary eyed, but at the words of his owner, he burst into hysterics.

“Nooo!!! Mommy please I want Mori back! Please let me see Mori!” He begged, rubbing his snot covered face into her shirt. The owner seemed to deflate at this, and sighed, rubbing her Cherries back in reassurance. While you marveled at the fact that he was still suffering from some sort of stockholm syndrome.

“We’ll just have to see for now.” She said, and looked at you for reassurance.

“You really don't have to worry.” You replied, voice chipper. “He’s nothing like he was before, you’ll be safer with him now than you would be without. He’s a model King, the perfect guard for any home.” You made your way towards the back noting the wariness of your client, but you stood by what you said, Moriarty was a model King, with all the coaching you’d given Shelby there was no reason to worry anymore.

Making your way into the back you spotted Moriarty in his enclosure, he was sunning himself as you approached. There was no sign of pulled teeth, skinned tails, or broken bones anywhere on him, and he only flinched slightly at the sound of your voice.

“Your mothers ready to see you now.” You sang watching the King light up and practically shoot to your outstretched arm. He curled himself around your arm, vibrating with anticipation at the prospect of seeing his mother again. You hummed in satisfaction as you made your way back to where Shelby was waiting.

The Cherry fell to the floor as he threw himself out of his mothers arms, he fell with a thwack, chanting Mori as he ran to you. The King very nearly pounced at the Cherry, he had tears in his eyes and seemed shocked and elated to see his mate. Although the Cherry's supposed ‘death’ had been erased from his mind he still had thought his mate dead, thus the tears. Before he could rush to his mate you held your hand up. “Stop.” You commanded, preventing the King who was practically vibrating from going to his mate. He was restless and voiced his immense displeasure. “YOU MUST LET ME GO SEE IF MY MATE IS HARMED!” He practically screeched into your ear, but still stayed still, causing Shelby’s eyes to widen in shock. She would have never imagined that the previously unruly and violent King would become so obedient, even if he was still incredibly bossy.

The Cherry at your feet practically hugged your leg as he cried and pleaded for his mate to come to him, you stopped walking forward before your punted him across the room, and smiled warmly at Shelby even as Moriarty squirmed on your shoulders as he looked between his mate and his mother, frustration growing as he stayed put, as you were gesturing for him to.

The cries of the Cherry became background noise as you spoke to Shelby. “As you can see, he’s fully trained now. All you need to do is handle him like I taught you and he’ll respond appropriately.”

“YOU MUST LET ME DOWN NOW!” The king snapped, as he crossed his arms, still waiting for permission. Nothing could change his bossy tone, but he still could be trained to behave.

Your customer sputtered for a bit, before she seemed to snap out of it. “Oh… Um… Yes… Come here.” She said, and gestured with her hands as you’d taught her for her previously unruly King to come.

The response was instant, he practically lept from your arm, disregarding the Cherry, albeit patting him on the head as he passed, and basically leapt into the outstretched hand that his ‘mother’ had out for him. He practically purred at the contact with his ‘mother’, nuzzling her arm affectionately as he hugged her arm, shocking her while at the same time earning a smile.

“I AM VERY CROSS WITH YOU MOTHER! YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU!” The King stated, holding on firmly to his mothers arms as he stared longingly at the crying Cherry that was running and trying to climb up his mothers leg.

“I can see that.” She answered, smile wide and tears coloring the side of her eyes.

“NOW I MUST INSIST THAT WE COMFORT MY MATE!” He screeched, looking down at Sebastian with longing. Which in turn caused his owner to laugh and reach down to pick up the crying Cherry.

“There we go, the whole family’s together, Sebastian, Moriarty and mommy!” She cried, sniffling as Moriarty kissed the forehead of his crying mate.

“Thank you so much!” She cried, as she walked over to you and shook your hand. “I can’t believe how much he’s changed! Thank you! I can’t thank you enough!”

Grinning ear to ear, you replied. “Really, it was my pleasure.”

#bitty abuse #bitty torture #Psychological Abuse #psychological torture #king lamia #cherry bitty #shock collar #bitty rape #stockholm syndrome #memory manipulation #abusive realtionships

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! So think you could do something along the line of Steve finding Billy breaking down (writers choice as to why) somewhere random Billy thought he'd be alone for awhile and Billy is all teeth towards him before Steve coaxes him enough to let him in on why he's so upset. Maybe first kiss? Or just some angst and comfort

Billy was crashing through the woods, didn’t know where he was, where he was going, barely even knew which way was up at this point.

He was driving, trying to find somewhere, anywhere, had gotten out of his car to stumble through the woods.

He heard a branch snap, went still.

“Hello?”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve Harrington, of all people, stepped out from behind a tree, a wooden baseball bat dropping from where he had it, up and ready. It was that fucking nailed bat Max had threatened his dick with.

“What’s with the weapon?” Billy flexed his hands. A fight wouldn’t be so bad right now. He knows he can take Harrington.

“You’re not the worst thing I’ve seen in these woods.” His eyes looked hollow, empty.

“The fuck you goin’ on about?” Billy could feel his skin itching, his arms shaking.

“Nothing that concerns you, Hargrove.” They stared each other down.

And then Steve stepped closer, holding out the bat.

“You’re giving that to me?” Steve nodded. Billy took it, checking the grip.

“Hit that tree.” Billy looked at him.

“What?”

“You obviously want to hit something, and I’d love to not get the shit beaten outta me again, so, tree.” Billy looked at the bat.

“You gonna be pissed if I break it?”

“Nah. I got like, three of ‘em.” Billy adjusted his stance, holding the bat just like Neil had taught him.

He swung, tree bark splitting and flying into the air when he wrenched the nails out.

He hit it again. And again. And again.

He only figured out he was crying when his vision started swimming, didn’t sop hitting the tree.

He didn’t stop as the bat splintered, as the nails bent and chunks of tree flew off.

And then the bat cracked, split entirely in half.

Billy felt the same.

He threw the piece he was still holding to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

And then there was a warm hand on his shoulder.

Billy whipped around, pushing Steve back from him.

His eyes were wide, and he nearly stumbled over a root.

“What the fuck?”

“Stay the fuck away from me, Harrington!” His blood was pounding in his ears.

“You got two options. Option one: you pound my face in like I can tell you want to. You end up feeling shitty about yourself and I move on. Or, option two: You come eat dinner with me.”

Billy deflated.

“Wh-why?”

“’Cause I’m lonely and got more chicken than I could possibly eat. Besides, you’re in my backyard.” He turned, stepping expertly over a few branches, turning to Billy. “Coming?”

Billy’s not entirely sure why he followed.

The woods opened up to the back of a huge house, a fucking in ground pool right there in front of it.

Because of course Harrington had a giant house with a heated pool.

He led Billy inside the sliding glass door, into the immaculate living room, through to the surgically clean kitchen.

“You live in a model home or some shit?” Steve gave him a tight smile.

“Pretty much.” there was a bucket of KFC on the counter. Steve got two plates from the cabinet, a couple forks, the bucket of chicken. He gestured for Billy to grab the back of sides and Billy stole a few cloth napkins from the neat pile.

Steve led him downstairs to a cozy looking rec room, plopping himself in front of the couch.

“Your parents home?” Billy didn’t want to think about crying in front of him earlier.

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“Not for a week and six days then.” Steve was building himself a plate.

“Must be nice.”

“Used to be.” Billy didn’t know what that meant.

No parents was always a positive.

“What do you mean?” Steve gave him an odd look.

“If I tell you, will you tell me why you were being angry in the woods?”

“Probably not.” Steve shrugged, picking up the television remote.

He put on Indiana Jones.

“Oh, yes. I love this movie.” He scoot forward in his seat, taking way too big a bite of chicken.

It was cute.

Billy mentally kicked himself, tried to stop staring.

It was quiet as they watched the movie, eating the too much food.

“I didn’t know I was in your yard.” Steve looked up at him, a little dazed from pulling his attention away from Indiana.

“I mean, glad I found you. Before anything else did.”

“Anything?” Steve went pale.

“Bears. There’s bears. Here. I saw one. Once.” Billy nodded slowly, one eyebrow raised.

“Bears?”

“Bears.” He watched the movie for a little while longer.

“I just gotta get out sometimes. Be somewhere not in my house. Used to go to the beach, but, uh, no beaches here.” Steve sat up a little straighter.

“We’ve got beaches!” Billy gave him a look. “Well, obviously not ocean beaches, but we’ve got, just come with me.”

He left the t.v. on as he raced up the stairs, running up them on all fours like a little kid.

Billy very fastidiously did not melt at the sight.

Steve was tugging on a jacket, grabbing his keys, and was out the door as Billy rounded the corner.

He didn’t know where Steve was driving him to, but Steve had obviously been there a lot. All the turns were well practiced, and he slid right into a parking spot, the lines too faded to see in the dark.

Billy squinted when he got out of the car.

There were other cars lined up in the other spots, a few spaces left between each car.

Steve led him down a little hill.

“Absolutely pathetic.” Billy could see the water in the moonlight. “This is not a beach.”

“Closest you’re gonna get in Hawkins.” Steve was smiling, all proud of himself.

“Just another reason to fucking hate it here.” Billy flopped down on the shore.

It wasn’t even proper sand, more like, a bunch of pebbles. Steve sat next to him.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of those.”

“It’s worse when you’ve lived somewhere else.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

“No way. I’d bet my right nut you’ve never even left the state.”

“That’s unfortunate to your right nut then, because I went to Chicago once with my dad.” Billy tossed his head back, let his laugh ring out over the water.

“Real world traveler, over here.” Steve shushed his yells, laughing as he did.

“Billy, be quiet, there’s people fucking.”

“Yeah, I kinda put two and two together there, Steve-o.” Steve rolled his eyes. “So you brought me to make out point, then?”

“Lovers’ Lake.”

“Even worse.” Steve huffed a laugh at him. Billy looked out over the water, up at the stars.

There were a lot out here. He could even see the milky way.

“If my dad knew some boy took me out to a place called Lovers’ Lake,” he trailed off.

“Yeah, mine too.” He put on a deep voice, puffing out his chest. “Harringtons aren’t queers, Steven.” Billy looked at him.

“Are Harringtons queers?” His calf was twitching, needed to get his energy out somehow.

“One is.” Steve’s voice was quiet, Billy almost didn’t catch it over the lapping of the water at the shore. “What about the Hargroves?”

“One is.”

Steve smiled at him.

“Maybe they should get together sometime.”

“Yeah, they could go to Lovers’ Lake and make out like a couple a’ dumbasses begging to get caught.” Steve laughed.

“One of ‘em has a big empty house. Gets lonely a lot.”

“The other one doesn’t like bein’ home much.”

“Sounds like they’re a pretty good match.”

“They just might be.” They were leaning into one another, Billy could feel Steve’s breath against his face, could smell his rich boy cologne.

“One of them would really like to be kissed right now,” Steve breathed against his lips.

Billy took his face in both hands, planting a soft kiss to his lips.

It didn’t last long, just something sweet for them to treasure tonight.

“I should probably go home soon.”

“I can drive you to your car, if you want.” Steve stood up, dusting off his ass, holding out a hand for Billy.

They held hands back to Steve’s car. Billy felt like a lovesick idiot.

Maybe he was, just a little bit.

Steve idled next to Billy’s car.

“So, same time tomorrow?”

“Let’s skip the breakdown though, yeah? Don’t think I can do ‘em back to back like that.”

“Then let’s also skip the whole finding you in the scary woods behind my house, too. Just use the front door.”

“You gonna let me pick the movie.” Steve gave him a sharp look.

“You got a problem with Indiana Jones? ‘Cause I don’t think this thing between us can go any further if you do.” Billy laughed. He felt so much fucking lighter after this evening, felt like he could go back, face his dad with a smile.

“No problem, just wanted to watch somethin’ scary.” Steve made a face.

“Not really a scary movie person.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Then crawl into my lap and be all cute and scared.” Steve’s went all big. “I literally just handed that one to you.”

“Well then you better bring somethin’ horrifying, if this is just a horny ploy.”

“You’ll be scared right outta your pants.” Steve laughed at him, pushing him towards the open door.

“Go away. I don’t like you anymore.”

“See you tomorrow, Stever.”

“Yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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