#an inch from losing my shit and i will take the ability to Pay My Fucking Bills over the covenience of the joint family account

[kuroopaisen]

brat || gojou satoru

➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being. 

wc: 2k

warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess? 

a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows! 

You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?

Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.

The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.

“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.

“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.

Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.

“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.

“I never said that,” you mumble.

It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.

Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.

A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” he hums.

That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.

“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”

A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”

You slap his chest.

“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”

“Then stop being annoying.”

“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”

“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.

“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”

“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.

He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.

“I’m simply stating the truth.”

“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”

Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.

You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.

And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.

Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.

“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”

“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”

“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”

Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.

Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.

You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.

What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.

Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.

But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?

Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—

“Hey.”

You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.

“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.

“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”

Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.

Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.

But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.

You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?

Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.

You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.

“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”

You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.

“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.

“Satoru—”

It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.

You punch his side weakly.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.

“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.

“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.

Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.

“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.

His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.

“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).

“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”

“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”

Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.

“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.

He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.  

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.

When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.

Thank God you always have your wits about you.

“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.

He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.

Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.

You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.

But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.

Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.

Gojou represents change.

You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.

But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.

Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.

Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.

Even if he’s a little brat.

[mosswillow]

Simple Silver - Dark!Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: You’ve been given a gift, one not many Omegas get. A bracelet that when worn by an Omega changes their scent ever so slightly. All you need to do is keep the bracelet on and he can’t find you.

Warnings: 18+ adult content, dark!, ABO (no mentions of knots, heat, or rutt.), general misogyny, noncon/dubcon, smut, vaginal fingering, oral (male receiving), violence, orgasm delay/denial, kidnapping (kinda), she spits in his face in this, possessive behavior.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: This fic is a request from @leniram1890. Seriously, thank you so much. It’s everything I love to write and read and you just dropped it in my lap. Now that it’s done I want more…

by clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over the age of 18 and consent to reading mature content.

You’re infatuated with him. He stands tall, you guess at least six feet, and his smell; he smells like no Alpha you've ever encountered. There’s this look to him, unequivocally attractive but in a unique and confusing way that draws you in. His eyebrows lift slightly making his otherwise small and ordinary eyes the focal point of his face. He looks around the room with a focus and intensity that feels inhuman. You finger the small bracelet that holds your secret and walk behind him, your Omega instincts telling you to get close. You suddenly recognize where you are and what you’re doing. looking down to your hands, you stare horrified at the bracelet that was taken off without your noticing. you put it back on and sprint out of the building, not stopping until you’re behind the safety of your padlocked apartment door.

Your phone goes off and you answer, making up an excuse about food poisoning and promising to be in early the next day.

Your Alpha, it had to be him.

You’ve wondered what it would be like to meet your Alpha, if you would feel bad about hiding from them. You don’t feel bad, only upset with yourself for losing control. You almost gave up your whole life in one stupid moment.

The simple silver bracelet that sits on your wrist feels heavy and you look at it. It’s a chain that suppresses your true self and one that sets you free. It’s one you choose to wear because the alternative is a life looking over your shoulder; waiting for your Alpha to find and claim you. Your parents gave it to you the day you presented and it’s given you opportunities not many Omegas get. It changes your scent just enough to let you hide, giving you the ability to decide for yourself how you feel about your Alpha, to choose a life with him or to keep the life you’ve built for yourself.  

Your coworkers don’t waste time the next morning. One is already at your desk and two more walk up as you sit down.

“Ok, what did I miss?” you ask.

“Right when you left this scary looking Alpha started raging. Stark had to call in the avengers to get him to calm down.”

You act surprised, knitting your brows and leaning forward in fake interest.

“What happened?”

“Apparently He smelled his Omega but couldn’t find them.”

“Crazy.” you say, opening up your email and scrolling through.

Coworkers start dispercing and you let out a held breath. You get to work, having extra from the day before and lose yourself for several hours.

“That’s him.” whispers a voice and you look up at your coworker before following their eyes.

It’s him, your Alpha, and he’s walking straight toward you.

You try your best to stay focused on work and not give away the slight shaking of your hands as his scent hits your nose. He stops at your desk and you look up at his chest avoiding eye contact.

“What can I do for you mr…”

“Dr. Strange,” he pauses. “I’m sure you know what happened yesterday.”

“I don’t judge sir.”

He looks at you and leans on your desk.

“Ah, but you are judging. Spit it out then.”

You take your hands off of your keyboard and fold them over your chest.

“Omegas don’t have lives after they mate, I guess it doesn’t doesn’t feel fair to me.”

“What makes you think my Omega wouldn’t have a life?”

“You would let your Omega Work? Travel by themselves? Have their own bank account?”

He thrums his fingers on your desk.

“My Omega will have a good life, they need to know their place though. When I finally find them they won’t even be allowed to leave the house without permission.”

You bristle. “Well then, I’m glad you weren’t able to find them.”

He leans farther over your desk, his demeanor shifting into one of intimidation. You do everything you can not to cower back as his aggressive scent washes over you.

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe your Omega is hiding from you, that’s what I would do if I was an Omega.” You finally make eye contact, staring into the stormy grey abyss of his irises and he leans forward even more.

“They better not be.”

“What would you do if you found out they were?”

His fist clenches and you can’t help but push your chair back a few inches. You see Tony walking toward you from the corner of your eye and stand up, pushing your pointer finger against his forehead.

“You sir, are one of the most obnoxious people I’ve ever met, and I work for Tony Stark,” you say.

His mouth opens in surprise and he stands up.

Tony makes it to you at just the right moment. “Hey now, stop harassing my assistant. We’re not having a repeat of yesterday, thank you.”

Strange narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t say anything as he follows Tony into his office.

You walk to the back of the grocery store, picking up a pint of icecream and hurrying to pay for it. Your day was long and the only thing you can think about is a hot bath. You don’t notice him until it’s too late. His smug face takes in your slightly messy appearance as you try to pass by him.

“Dinner, I assume. Your questionable behavior before is starting to make sense.”

You stare at him unsure how to respond and he tilts his head and smirks.

“I’m insinuating, dear, that your disrespectful behavior this morning was caused by a lack of adequate nutrition.”  

You readjust your shirt and let out a huff.

“I wonder,” you pause and smile sweetly. “How much shit did you have to consume in your ‘diet’ to become such an asshole?”

You pull out a pair of earphones and stick them in your ears, turning on your heel to pay for your dinner. He grabs your arm, pulling you close and tears out your headphones with his other hand.

“I’ve never met anyone who gets under my skin so easily, why do you make me so angry?” he sneers.

“Your anger is your responsibility,” you pull away, shaking slightly and holding back tears.

You can feel his eyes watching you as you jump into a self checkout line to pay.  As soon as you reach your apartment you let the tears fall. You hate him. You hate his stupid face and egotistical personality. You hate that you react to him, that your nature makes your knees go weak when you’re around him. You hug your bracelet against your chest and let out a shaky breath. As long as the bracelet stays on you’re safe. You just need to keep it on, that’s it.

You stand in Tony’s office staring at a folder.

“Send a courier or another employee, I don’t want to do it.”

Tony raises his eyebrows in shock at your sudden and uncharacteristic outburst.

“I need someone I trust to drop them off, Is there some reason you can’t do it?”

“I just don’t get along with Dr. Strange.”

“You’re dropping off a file, not going on a date,” he quips.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you love your job. It’s just a quick trip, drop it off and you’re done. It’s been a week since you saw him last, he doesn’t know who you are or he would already have come for you. Just a quick drop off, that’s it.

“I’m sorry sir. You’re right, I’m being unprofessional. I can do it.”

He waves you out and you call an uber riding it to what Tony described only as “The Sanctum”.  

You walk in and look around the large entry room, searching for someone who can help. It’s eerily quiet and you walk up a huge set of stars, wandering and looking at various museum-like displays until you’re on the top floor. The room is dark, the only light coming from a large round window. A stranger walks up and looks at you with a surprised expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for Dr. Strange? I’m just dropping something off from Mr. Stark.”

“Ah of course, I’m Wong.” He says holding out his hand.

You reach out and take his hand and he looks at your wrist, grabbing onto your bracelet and pulling it off.

“I haven't seen one of these in a long time.” he examines the bracelet closely.

“That’s mine, give it back please.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re hiding your designation.”

“My Alpha is a cruel man, please give it back. I need it now.” you say urgently.

“Hey, nobody will hurt you here. Who is this Alpha?”

You start shaking and reach out again trying to take the bracelet back from him.

“Wong, I… Oh no, not you again,” Stephen says from an open doorway, his face turning into a scowl.

You grab the bracelet and push it on your wrist. It’s too late though, Stephens eyes widen in recognition as your scent hits him.

You bolt. You know you won’t make it out so you pull at the first door you find, slamming it closed and locking it.

The banging starts almost immediately.  “OMEGA, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!” he yells.

“Don’t do this, please. I don’t want this. I need more time. Don’t force me, please,” you cry.

Sparks start flying in a circle in front of your eyes and your Alpha is suddenly walking through a portal. You look around, seeing a second door and yanking it open. Something catches your leg and you’re pulled backwards by what looks like a glowing rope.

“You knew I was your Alpha the whole time.” he says, moving his body to sit on your middle.

You bite your tongue and glare at him.

“Answer me!” He yells, grabbing your arms and pushing them above you.

His face is only inches from your own and you spit without thinking. He lets go of your hands and sits back, wiping the wetness from his face before staring at his wet hand.

“This explains everything, catching your scent, the extreme annoyance at your lack of respect, the anger I felt at the thought of you not eating like you should.”

He grabs your shirt, ripping it down the middle and causing buttons to fly through the air. Goosebumps appear over your skin and you shiver from both fear and the cold. He flips you over roughly, pulling off your shirt all the way. His hand roams to your mating gland. He leans over and breathes in, kissing it gently.

“Fuck you,” you say through clenched teeth.

He stops and waits until you’re done shaking.

“Why aren’t you biting me?” you whisper.

“You said you wanted time.”

He stands, pulling you up with him and makes a circle with his finger, opening up a portal in front of you. His hand is on your back pushing you through and when you turn around you're alone in what looks like a bedroom. Immediately, you run and try the door, opening it and sprinting out. The breath is knocked out of you as someone promptly slams you into a wall. You start coughing as the pain radiates through your body, then you’re falling onto a soft bed in the same room as before. After a few minutes of coughing you stand and run again, trying the window this time and just like before you’re caught and pushed through a portal back to the same room. You keep trying until you’re completely out of places to run, until your energy, both emotional and physical, is depleted.

The moment you finally give up a portal opens on your right and Stephen walks through.

It would have been easier if he had just bitten and fucked you right away. Letting you run over and over just to squash your hope is even more cruel, like a sick joke where he is the only person privy to the punchline. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes down and wait for the inevitable.

He walks around you slowly and with each methodical step your anxiety grows until your knees buckle and you drop to the ground, crying into your hands. He stops and crouches in front of you, putting his finger under your chin and raising it slowly until you look him in the face. He lets go and keeps eye contact as he reaches between your legs and almost too gently runs his finger over your pussy. His eyes bore into you as his hand slowly becomes more and more noticeable above your clothes.

“I hate you.” you whisper as he pushes your legs apart.

He slides his hand into your pants and continues to rub over your clit, now making quick circles. His finger dips in your heat and you whimper involuntarily. You close your eyes as the sensations start to build and when you’re about to go over the line he stops. Your eyes shoot open and he smirks.

“It’s important you understand a few things.”

You aren’t expecting it, for him to suddenly pull his hand back and slap you across the face. You’re not prepared for the force behind his hand. How it makes your entire face sting, the pain radiating down your neck and shoulder. You grasp your cheek and bite your lip to avoid crying.

“I own you.” He slides his hand down to your pussy again.

“I own your pleasure.” He slides his hand up to your breast, pushing your bra down and pinching your nipple harshly. “And your pain.”

He backs away and crosses his arms, motioning with his head at the remaining clothes on your body. You slowly rise and remove your pants and underwear, standing in front of him fully naked.

His hand roams to your neck and he holds it gently.

“Hate me all you want.”

His hand constricts slightly around your throat.

“But don’t you dare run from me.”

His hand tightens again.

“Or hide.”

He keeps his hand on your throat and pushes you back to the bed until you’re lying on your back with him above you. His other hand reaches to your legs and taps between them gently. He puts his cheek against yours when you don’t move.

“Open Omega, and don’t you dare close those legs.”

He lets go of your neck when you relax your legs, backing away and unbuckling his pants.

“You don’t even like me,” you remark.

“I didn’t like who you were pretending to be.”

He walks over so that his sizable dick sits in front of your face.

“Suck,” he commands.

You suck on the tip without complaint and he grabs the back of your head and thrusts a few times before pulling out and patting your cheek.

“A much better use for your sharp tongue.”

You bite back a retort and look away as he positions himself in between your legs and pushes himself in with one forceful thrust. You let out a whimper and reach out your arms around him in response. He grabs your shoulders and ruts into you.

“This is where you belong Omega,” he wipes a tear from your cheek, a stark contrast to the painful pace of his thrusts.

“You.” he thrusts. “Belong,” The force starts to push you up on the bed. “ To me!”

He flips you suddenly and fucks you again from behind, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. A warm hand brushes over your mating gland and you feel his breath against your back. Stars appear before your eyes as he bites, your entire body consumed with the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure. It pushes you into an intense orgasm that leaves you shaking from the adrenaline.

“Understand?”

You nod and he slides into bed next to you and kisses between your shoulder blades. You look over at his discarded clothes, noticing the gleam of your bracelet poking out of a pocket.

“Were you serious when you said you wouldn’t let your Omega out of the house?”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve actually had a change of heart.”

He peppers kisses across your neck and back.

“You, my adventurous Omega, won’t even leave this room without me by your side.”

You try to move but he holds you close, effectively chaining you to him. You blink back a tear and shift closer to him, letting yourself relax into his arms.

“There you go, let go and accept it.”

“Never,” you say between choked sobs.

His hand roams up your body, exploring every bit.

“We’ll see.”

[80s4life]

The Thought Of Losing You

Word Count: 2,507

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: Lethal Weapon 1987 {1}

A/N: This follows sort of around the ending of the first Lethal Weapon film where both Riggs, Murtaugh, and Rianne were being tortured in separate ways. I know it sounds brutal, but trust me, it isn't that bad. AND! Happy ending! (Spent all night on this!)

Relationship: Martin Riggs x Reader

Summary: When a team is formed, Roger Murtaugh and Martin Riggs are solidified together once Y/N is added to the mix, squeezing in perfectly. Although very fiery and stubborn at heart, childish games and teasing became common place for sergeant Y/N and Martin, unable to let the other out-trash their own trash talk. But, when there is a complication during the final breakthrough of the whereabouts of the heroin-trafficking cartel, Y/N is separated from the duo. Only coming together when a kidnapping sends her in a desperate spiral trying to save the people she loves, especially Riggs.

Warnings: violent themes, kidnap, manipulation, torture, violence, language, attempted!self-surrender/suicide, 18+ audience suggested, read at own risk

Masterlist Lethal Weapon Masterlist

Prompts: #67, #68, #100 (from this list @palettes-and-prompts) & #6, #8, #17 (from this list @waiting-for-motivation)

{I do not own any of the prompts, credits to original owners above, nor do I own the gif below -> @leofromthedark}

Strolling around to the back of the supposed drug dealer's extravagant condo, Murtaugh, Riggs, and I engage in light conversation, silently noting and observing our surroundings. Stopping just near the edge of the rather expensive-looking below ground pool, Murtaugh and Riggs catch sight of two brunette women inside. Rolling my eyes, I expect Riggs to do something flirtatious, a painstakingly common reaction to almost every woman he lays eyes on. Every woman... except me. Yet, I pay no mind, Riggs' crazy nature probably too much for me to handle anyway.

Murtaugh flashes his gun, indicating to the women that he is armed. In a flash of a second, just merely after he had shown his weapon, the women duck and run from within the glass-paned wall, just in time for a man to blast a shot from behind. More specifically, the source being a shed occupying the space on the opposite side of the pool we resided on, destroying bits of its siding from the sheer distance and voracity of his attempt of subduing at least one of us.

But, we came prepared, although we were slightly taken aback, Murtaugh's swift abilities with a gun coming in handy as he lands on the drug dealer's right knee, lower thigh area. Splitting off, Murtaugh and I take either end of the pool's side, desperately trying to corral the person of interest. All the while as Riggs takes the women from in the house outside and to the nearest tree, in case of them being suspects as well, handcuffing their wrists together around the tree.

Once the task is done, Riggs hurries over to our aid, following our one, sole purpose: keeping the suspect alive for questioning.

Coming around the perimeter of the pool, Murtaugh reminds Riggs of this rule, replaying it to refresh his sometimes questionable mind. This, however, does not work in our favor as the man pulls yet another gun, this time a pistol, as Riggs had went to pull the man up.

"He's got a gun!" I scream, yet it's all in vain, as Riggs tries to act just as fast as his reflexes would've allowed, lifting the man's aimed arm as the trigger was pulled.

Yelping in surprise, I clench my teeth as the copper red liquid instantly encompasses the injured area, jerking as far away from the incident as possible.

"Y/N!" Murtaugh yells, instantly coming to my side as I go crashing to the concrete floor, catching my head and my left side as I now slowly lean into the ground below me, clutching the stinging injury to the right of my abdomen.

As Murtaugh had come to my side, Riggs took care of the suspect, unfortunately not being able to accomplish our sole purpose of being here, but overall getting rid of the threat.

"Cocksucker," he all but grunts, as he makes sure to shoot the man once more, pissed at the fact that I had gotten shot, although that fact being unbeknownst to me. "I'll call the ambulance," he all put spits out some time later, not making any attempt to check on my well being nor even making eye contact, stalking back through the side gate we had entered through.

//Some time later//

Now nestled safely and securely, I lay within the gloomy walls of the hospital, hooked up with some anesthetics and monitors, all for separate purposes. The stitches surely going to leave an awesome scar, only adding to my aggravation and exhaustion as the day finally settles and the slightest of movements constantly sending sharp pains within my whole body.

The doctors, coming in every so often, had reassured me of a discharge after the course of at least 2-4 days, only needing to ensure the proper sanitary measures are used and stitches being durable and strong without issues or tears.

Staring off at one of the four blank and colorless walls, in a daze, my ears perk up at the sound of a knock on my door, followed by Roger and Martin entering the room.

Handing me a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates, I smile at Roger as he pulls a chair beside my bed, asking, "How ya' feeling, Shortie? How're they treatin' ya' here?"

Giggling at the nickname, I respond with an, "I'm doing just as good as I can I guess. It's not so bad here either. The nurses are nice, although they're all pitiful glances and meek gestures, coming in and out as quickly as possible. I guess bullet wounds aren't their preferred cases?" I joke lightly, trying to lighten the tension in the room.

Roger catches on instantly, having caught wind on Martin's rather uncharacteristically quiet sulking in the far corner of the room. Turning to look at him briefly, he all but shrugs at me as he comes up with no response or solution to his partner's unknown issue.

Checking the time, I make up an excuse, assuming Riggs just didn't want to be here maybe? "Damn, look at the time...It's almost 9 pm guys, don't wanna be late for Trish's cooking do ya'?"

"Shit, really? Come on Riggs, you know the ass whoopin' I'm gonna get? Let's go, minus well feed you too, huh?" Murtaugh says, getting his coat and squeezing my shoulder, giving me a sympathetic look that I swipe away quickly. Riggs just gets up, side-eyeing me once quickly, but above all, ignores my presence and leaves the room. With one final look from Rog, he shuts the door, leaving me to my boredom for the remainder of my stay.

//Some time later//

Having been discharged, Roger had caught me up on the recent news, and how they had left to finish the job a day before I had gotten out of the hospital, that being yesterday evening, and it now being a full 24 hours of no communication from them.

This had struck me as odd, given that they were very advanced in their fields. Finding the whereabouts was the last big hump of every mission, the rest supposedly coming easy. This had all changed as soon as I had stepped foot onto my front porch, a not left hanging slightly within the pocket of my mailbox.

The words shocking me to the core;

"Come to xxxxxxxxxx if you want to save your partners. 8 o'clock. Sharp."

Rushing to my car, I waste no time, pulling out of the driveway and to the given destination, the time being almost too close to the deadline as I preferred it to be.

Once outside of the destination, an old, run-down warehouse stands gloomily in front of me as I slip my gun into the waistband of my jeans. Another, tucked against my ankle within my boots.

I move quietly, staying alert as I enter the warehouse quietly, instantly hit with the cries of what could only belong to Riggs, my heart wrenching. A new feeling that I instantly push aside. Following the pained screams, inching closer to the source, I catch wind of yet another's set of booming cries as well, recognizing it as Murtaugh.

With this new set of knowledge, my heart does another painful flip, as the sheer terror now courses through my veins as if it was my blood. They were the toughest men I had ever known. At least that is how I had always felt, how I feel right now, but with their pained screams, it makes me feel utterly hopeless.

Drawing my gun, I aim it before me, right beside the wall I hide on, lining it up around the corner, my full intention at being able to at least shoot down one of the three men guarding one of my teammates; their identity unknown to me at the moment with the unfortunate dimness.

Taking the shot, I hit one man, the two now swinging to guard the area, looking my direction. The man held captured, Riggs, tied to the ceiling, consistently doused in water, making the homemade shock therapy increasingly unbearable with multiple relentless blows.

"Come out now, Little Rabbit, or I pull the trigger," a booming voice commands, me now peeking out from the corner to see none other than Mr. Joshua, the man we've been after, pressing a firm gun to Riggs' limp form.

Coming out from my hiding space, Joshua motions for his goons to grab me, now taking Riggs off the hook, and into another room. The room we are led to happens to be the room Murtaugh is in, his daughter beside him, both incarcerated and handcuffed. Moving Riggs to the chair beside the pair, he is tied down just as I am, the four of us now completely helpless.

Mr. Joshua, confident and prideful of his work, moves Riggs to the center of the room, starting his interrogation, answering with beatings and threats here and there. The cause: the information given by Hunsaker on his heroin-trafficking cartel.

Just as Joshua leaves yet another powerful blow, Riggs' strength starts to run low, just watching him making me squirm in my chair, wanting nothing but to take him in my arms and drag him as far away from here as possible.

"If you have to kill one of us, kill me. Take me instead, please? Just stop! Stop all of this now," I say breathlessly, doing anything in my will to get their hands off of Riggs.

"What would I want with someone as pathetic as you?" Mr. Joshua answers bitterly.

"Information. That's all you want right? You just want details about the business, you went through all this trouble, and for what? Just to kill us in the end? I know your type. You can't get off without getting what you want, and this would've all gone to waste without it," I respond, determined now.

"So, what do you want? To strike a deal?" I nod. "So, if I let them go, you'll give me what I want?" I nod again.

"Y/N no," Riggs says, now worried about what you're going up against.

"Shut it," Joshua states strictly.

"Y/N, listen to Riggs! You can't do this!" Murtaugh adds, now borderline terrified as everyone in this room is filled with the most important people in his life, all threatened with the only thing that could take them all away: death.

"SHUT IT!" Joshua all but screams now. "Fine. I'll take you up on your little deal. However, you fuck with me, I'm killing them."

"I don't agree with you unless you cut them loose right now, and I am assured that they are out of this building," I say confidently, yet shaking with fear.

He nods his agreement, showing a security camera view from one of his computers, watching as Rianne, Roger, and Martin are all led back outside, handcuffs removed, and all moved into my car, them pulling away from the warehouse.

Pulling the computer's view away from me now, he turns to me sharply, my gaze turning upward as my arms are still strapped behind my back, behind the chair. "Now," he starts, the voice strict like a parent beginning to question a toddler, "The information. What did Hunsaker tell you?"

Taking a breath in through my nose, I exhale through my mouth as I ponder my response, "Just as much as he's told you."

With this, Mr. Joshua lets out a scream, landing a punch to the jaw, my body leaning in on the stitches. Taking notice to my sharp intake of breath from the movement, Joshua uses that to his advantage, grabbing a knife, lifting my shirt, and pressing the cool metal along the line of handiwork. The only thing keeping my skin together at the moment.

"Let's try this again, what information did you receive from Hunsaker?"

"I told you. I. Don't. Know."

"Bullshit!" He digs into the skin, smirking at the cry of agony and shaking engulf my body.

"I-I don't know anymore than you do! Please! He was killed before we got anything from him!"

"Bullshit," he answers playfully now, dragging the blade of the knife wherever he pleases now, enjoying my pleads.

As he opens up my stitched bullet wound, he goes to start at another spot, the attempt being short-lived as a bullet wound of his own goes through his skull, the source standing in the doorway alongside Murtaugh with Rianne tucked under her father's arm.

Crying now, I sigh in relief as Riggs rushes to me, cutting me loose and lifting my limp body. Carrying me to the car, we make our way to the hospital once more.

During the wait and multiple switching of rooms, Riggs stays, waiting for me, only getting up once I emerge from the exit, patched up and clean. He smirks at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, leading me to Rog's car, taking us to the only place we find comfort; his house.

//Some time later//

Getting settled in at the Murtaugh residence, Riggs and I share Rianne's room, which was so generously offered as one of the youngest decide to have a sleepover with her.

Looking over at Riggs, he looks at me, covered in open cuts and bruises, dirt and grime, and, taking a first aid kit from Rianne's desk, I make it my priority to get them fixed up.

"What are you doing?" Riggs asks, tiredly amused.

"Taking care of you, it's the least I can do," I reply determined once again.

"Awww! Someone's got a little crush on me huh?"

"Hey! When I finish patching you up, I swear to God I'm gonna kick your ass for making me worry about you," I say jokingly. Riggs replying by grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer.

Locking eyes on one another now, I couldn't help but joke once more, adding a sly, "Is this the moment that we kiss?"

Giggling, he looks down, placing his head on my chest, murmuring, "I think I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do. I mean, I've been married before, and I- I lost her and I don't wanna lose you too- I couldn't live if you go too, I-"

Grabbing his chin, I tilt his head upwards to meet my gaze, "Look at me, Riggs. Look at me. I love you."

Eyes watering, he leans in for a kiss, my hands finding way to his hair, while his pull my hips into his lap, wrapping lightly around them. After leaning back for air, we giggle once more, leaning our foreheads against one another.

"I never want to ever feel the fear of the thought of losing you again, okay? So don't be a dumbass, Dumbass."

"Yeah, yeah," Riggs answers once more, leaning in for another kiss.

[separatist-apologist]

OMG, I am the anon who asked for part 3 of Elain riling up Lucien and I literally gasped when I saw you had posted it. Completely made my day! Obviously, I am here for part 4 and smut and anything else you grace us with <3

PART 4?? This was only supposed to be one part. When will it end? In marriage?? I'm beginning to think you are all using my enjoyment of writing Eluicen smut against me.

ANYWAY this is 18+, NSFW and just BARELY edited (you know the vibes).

Lucien was losing his mind. Nothing could take the edge off what Elain had begun on Solstice. Months had passed, many of which he hadn’t seen her at all and yet she consumed his thoughts. Her smell was permanently lodged in his nostrils, her hands a ghost on his body. He’d begun avoiding Velaris in an attempt to regain some control but Lucien suspected nothing but her mouth against his own was ever going to fix what they’d started. He was just barely paying attention to Rhys and Azriel, who were droning on and onabout some minor skirmish in the human lands that had long been squashed. All he could think about what Elain, somewhere in the estate doing Cauldron knew what.

“Will you be staying this evening?” Rhys cut through Lucien’s thoughts. Lucien sighed.

“Sure. Same room?” Rhys nodded and Lucien stood to plod up towards the bedroom he typically occupied when Elain sent her arousal, bright and hot, racing down their shared bond. Lucien was hard before he managed to walk out of Rhy’s study.

Fuck this, Lucien thought privately, stalking upwards towards her bedroom. He couldn’t force her to stop but he could scare her into knocking it off. He was going to explode if she didn’t. Lucien needed relief, even if it was in the form of distance.

Lucien found Elain’s bedroom with the door shut tight but unlocked. He flung it open only to immediately regret his actions. Towel—she was in nothing but a thin towel. Her hair was damp but not wet and there was a lilac towel wrapped around her body.

“Take it off,” he demanded, kicking the door shut behind him. Elain’s smile didn’t falter like he expected it to though he hardly cared. His control was tenuous at best.

“You first,” she practically purred, crossing her arms over her chest. Lucien could see the tops of them straining against the fabric, glistening from the heat of the water she’d just climbed out of. His knees nearly buckled. If he took off his clothes he’d drive himself into her without bothering with the towel at all. He needed to keep his on.

Lucien turned abruptly, flung the door back open, and stalked out. He couldn’t. His control was a fragile thing and beneath was a beast that would surely end the fragile peace between them. He wasn’t sure he even wanted her to know just how badly he wanted her or what it meant to him to have her. For Elain, it was all a game. Who could push the other farthest, who would break first? Lucien felt weirdly broken, even with his painfully erect cock. He slammed his bedroom door shut a touch too loudly and without bothering to wait to make sure Elain hadn’t followed, he began peeling himself out of his clothes. His erection practically sprang free the minute he undid the buttons on his pants and Lucien growled when his hand wrapped around the shaft. He closed his eyes, her scent still burning around him, and stroked as he sank onto the edge of his bed. This was good, he told himself, ignoring how his blood practically begged him to go back to her. This was safe.

And then it wasn’t. His bedroom door opened quietly and Elain, wearing a silky night dress much like the one she’d worn when she climbed into his lap, slid into the room with dark, hungry eyes. She snicked the door shut, her back pressed against the wood, eyes focused on what stood between his legs. He didn’t stop though he watched her, his arousal threatening to drown him. He opened his mouth to ask if she liked what she saw, if she liked proof of what her game was doing to him when Elain asked, “Can I?”

Lucien’s entire brain stuttered to a stop. He wasn’t in control of himself, unfisting his hand from his cock and gesturing towards the appendage like this was entirely casual and no big deal at all. It wasn’t just the mating bond screaming at him; his own mind was losing its shit. Touch me, touch me, touch me—

Get yourself together! He demanded. Elain stepped forward without any hesitation, her white gown thin enough he could see her nipples outlined through the fabric. His fingers twitched as he parted his knees far enough for her to stand between them.

“Do you want me, Lucien?” She asked him softly, her words surprisingly husky.

“Yes,” he admitted, unable to pretend anymore. She was mere inches from him and unlike his demand she take off her clothes, it was he who was naked.

And then he wasn’t. She yanked the straps of the nightgown down her shoulders and let the dress pool at her feet. His jaw nearly came unhinged from his face. He surveyed her body, utterly perfect with soft curves and her pert breasts nearly bouncing in his face.

“I want you,” she murmured, stepping closer. His cock brushed up against the bare expanse of her stomach. Her words were lightning through him. He reached for her, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other back in her hair like the very first time they’d begun. Lucien swallowed hard when her eyes fluttered shut, the scent of her arousal perfuming the air around them. He pulled her closer still, until her breasts rubbed up against his chest. He was lost, taken gladly by oblivion even before their lips touched. The kiss was nice for a moment, soft and sweet, like two lovers meeting for the first time. He could almost forget they were both utterly naked. She tasted like warm sugar mingled with summer blooms swaying beneath a breeze and Lucien found the taste utterly intoxicating.

It was Elain who deepened it, her hands caressing either side of his face a moment before she yanked out the leather strap holding his hair back. She opened her mouth for him and Lucien followed, his hunger replacing his surprise. She was here, and she’d finally said she wanted him. He slid his tongue into her mouth, caressing her own, delighting in her soft moan that punctured the silence around them.

His delight was short lived. While he kissed her, Elain wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and pumped once with her soft, delicate hand. It was Lucien’s turn to moan, loud enough any passerbys would hear.

He wanted to touch her first but when her hand stroked again, her thumb brushing over the head of his cock to smear a bead of precum, Lucien would rather have died than ask her to stop. Instead, without breaking his kiss, he let his hand drift to her bare breasts still pressed up against him. He cupped one in his hand, letting his finger and thumb roll one of the rosy buds between the pads of his fingers.

She gasped into his mouth, pulling from the kiss to look down. He grabbed the back of her neck, pressing her forehead against his own so he could kiss her as he liked. Her clever hand never stopped pumping, dragging Lucien closer and closer to the edge. His hips bucked beneath her, fucking her hand without any control. She smiled softly, increasing her speed and the friction with which she held him.

“Elain, I—” He didn’t want to come on her hand, but Elain didn’t stop and Lucien lost his ability to speak when bright, burning pleasure roared through him, drowning out his better sense. He knew he was loud, knew the whole house likely heard him but he didn’t care. He panted, unable to take his eyes off his come marking her hand and wrist. Some long buried primal beast snarled with pleasure at the sight. Mate, mate, mate, the thing chanted with glee, possessive and hungry.

“You now—”

“Next time,” Elain murmured, kissing his forehead before lithely stepping out of his grasp. She was quick, clothing her pretty body while he was still a sticky, erect mess. She turned, her hand on the doorknob, and smiled at his desperation. “It’ll give you a reason to come back quicker.”

She slipped out the door, leaving Lucien to smile, suddenly happy at the idea.

He’d be back the next day.

[razorblade180-heated]

A brief rest

[Shameless smut]

There was a time and a place for everything. One of many things Jaune’s sisters had told him as he was growing. He never really understood what they meant, but he did know one thing as he walked down the halls of the Schnee Manor; his time and place wasn’t with Nora and Ren right now. Poor boy felt the tension and immediately hightailed out. Three is a crowd after all, another lesson taught to him.

“I hope those two work things out.” He thought, not paying attention as he unexpectedly got poked in the side. Jaune nearly jumped out of his skin until he realized it had been Weiss who had tried getting his attention.

The petite girl smiled at his obliviousness. She had grown super fond of it in recent days. “How’s Ren and Nora?”

“Oh you know, tense. But they seemed to be clearing the air so that’s good. I think they’ll be okay.”

The good news brought ease to Weiss. “Good, seeing those two arguing feels like it’s against the natural order of things. Kinda like with Yang and Ruby?”

“Oh yeah, how is the discussion going?”

“We’re...taking a short break. Everyone needs a moment to just, let things sink in. It’s been hard on Ruby lately.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Jaune sighed.

Weiss watched him slide is fingers through his hair as he tried to un-tense his body. “Looks like Ruby isn’t the only one who needs a moment.” A warmth can to Weiss’s face. Her gaze began to focus on her feet while her fingers rubbed the fabric of her skirt. “You know...we have like twenty minutes or so; and everyone else is doing their own thing.” Weiss looked up at him, more than a little flustered.

Jaune blushed back. “Tempting offer, but maybe we should hold-”

“I know it’s risky, and they might find out about us.” Weiss said, cutting him off. “Still...I...I just really missed you when you were gone okay?” She blurted out, her voice letting out a quiet yell of embarrassment. Their eyes locked in flustered tension. Weiss could feel her chest start to pound. “My room is...just down this all. Just saying.” She added.

What felt like an eternity but was actually several seconds was Jaune trying to wrestle with his girlfriend’s honesty; before he took her by the hand and was lead down the hall to the room in no time at all. Jaune walked in and heard the door close. Before he can even say anything, Weiss had jumped up into his arms and brought his face down into a deep and intense kiss. The young man couldn’t help but groan from the way the Snow Angel’s tongue enchanted his into being ensnared.

Weiss released him from her lip lock. “I’d kiss longer but we’re on a tight schedule here. Have me however.” She gasped, shocked by her own brashness. Weiss held on tightly as Jaune spun around and landed on the bed with his body on top of her. His teeth gently sunk into her pale neck, earning him more gasps while his hands traced up her legs to her thighs; stopping right at her entrance where he pulled the huntress’s panties to the side. He didn’t waste a second entering his middle finger in, curling it slightly to rub against the the roof of her pussy.

“Mmmmm~!” Weiss’s legs begin to fidget from Jaune’s advances. Her own hips began to betray her as they started rocking in rhythm with the finger thrusting into her. “J-Jaune~” Weiss wrapped her arms aground his back. “I know I said tight schedule, but- ah~ my panties. T-take them off...” She requested. Jaune thankfully listened, removing his finger and himself from on top of her, giving Weiss a moment to raise her hips and slide her white lace off onto one leg.

Jaune thought it best to unbuckle his own pants while she got ready “That’s pretty fancy given the situation.” He quipped.

“Well I didn’t know doomsday was gonna hit so soon.” Weiss sat up to help him out. Her hands lifted his shirt enough to see his lower stomach. A coy smile spread on her face as she started kissing bellow his navel while her hands helped his pull his pants down along with his boxers.

“Weiss...” He stuttered as he felt her lips sink lower.”

“Shhh, can’t have you go in dry now can we?” Weiss’s face turned a deep red as she wrapped her lips around Jaune’s hardening length, quivering at the way the weight and size began filling her mouth. His overwhelming scent didn’t help regain any further composure. It only made her head a bit light as she started to bob up and down slowly. This part was still extremely new for her and Weiss would be lying if she said this part didn’t always make her anxious, but it also...excited her. Weiss felt the weight of Jaune’s hand rest on her head gently as she took in half of the six inch phallus before having to go back up. It annoyed her that the entire thing was too threatening, but took pride in the symphony of moans she took from Jaune by swirling her tongue to taste all she could.

“W-Weiss! That’s...mmgh, that’s enough.” His mouth said one thing but his hands said another, gripping her hair for a bit more control. “Shit....aahh~ don’t make me cum yet. Not without you.”

Weiss felt her heart flutter. “Geez he can say embarrassing stuff like that even now!?” Her lips released him not a moment too see. Weiss watched his length throb intently. She had to fight the urge to push him over the edge right here and now. Jaune usually had a longer fuse than this from their limited experience, but they’ve been incredibly busy these last couple days. It was a safe bet to assume he never got a private moment of rest in all that time. Neither did she for that matter. Weiss didn’t want to admit but she ached for him badly. In more ways than one.

“I know I said have me however, but can I ride you?” She said, hesitant for a moment. The fluttering in her heart didn’t want to stop. Jaune took hold of her skirt and hiked it up to stomach. The sudden hit of cold air made Weiss yelp before moving her legs to each side of him so he can lift her up and reposition himself for her sit comfortably. Well, as comfortably as someone could be while riding.

“Think they’ll hear the bed rock?” Jaune said, leaning against the headrest.

“Wouldn’t care if they did. It’s just us right now.” Weiss pulled him into another feverish kiss. More feverish than the last. Any separation between their lips was hungrily sealed again and again. The frenzy of it all threatened to make Weiss lose sight of the objective. It was a good thing Jaune wasn’t so easily swept in, taking hold to steady her hips with one hand as he sat her down on his eager length. Weiss whimpered in pleasure from the sudden shock of being filled up. She put her arms over his shoulders to grip the headrest while she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“Ahh! Aaahhh! Mmmphh~” The calm and poise Weiss normally showed had been completely shattered with each pant she let out from spearing herself onto Jaune. “Gods, you feel so good~” her hips were on auto pilot. It didn’t feel like there was a place Jaune wasn’t rubbing against. Her ability to try and keep herself together only dwindled further as Jaune nipped at her ear. “Mmmmm~!!!”

Jaune could barely stand being inside of her. Every sway of her hips only invited a warm and now dripping pussy to tighten around him like a vice. “Ahh! Fuck you’re tight~ Weiss, what’s gotten into you!?” He asked between grunts.

“I...mmmph I just...” Her arms squeezed him even harder as she did her best to all but slam her hips into him, making her sweat a little. “I’m... really glad you’re safe okay!? I was worried about you.” She confessed.

Jaune could no longer sit still. Not after hearing that. “I’m glad you’re safe too.” He lustfully whispered.

Weiss felt his hands move from her waist, taking hold of her ass firmly. “Jaune? What are-” the young man slightly lifted her up with ease to the point Weiss felt his dick began exciting, before slamming her back down on it to fill her body at once. Weiss could only gasp initially until Jaune repeated the movement again and again until the pleasure hit her. “AAAAH! F- AAH! AAAAAH!”

“Sssshhh, bite down or they’ll hear.” He said, refusing to stop.

Weiss bit down on his shoulder not caring how hard she did it. Each time she was slammed down, Weiss’s voice escaped as grunts and strained breathes. The use of her hips was souly on him now as he raged inside body. Eventually her grunts turned to whimpers as he kept pumping into her, making the room echo with her soaked sex.

“S..sso...mmmph! Deeeep~” Weiss felt like she was soaring. Her own nails started to dig into the headrest as she desperately tried hanging on to this high. “Jaune~ It’s....” she had given up speaking.

Jaune whispered with voice drowned in a husky yearning, “Just let me fuck you a little longer okay?”

“....Kay....” she whispered. Never had Weiss heard that voice, or was shown this much intensity. She wasn’t sure what flipped this switch in Jaune but she hopped it wouldn’t be the last time. Her body continued to take her boyfriend’s dick. At this point, cumming together had long since been ruined. Weiss wasn’t sure if she was on her second or third wave. Hell, it might even be fourth. All she knew was another one was rising and Jaune was still fucking her intensely. To think she almost let him top made Weiss believe she dodged a bullet. This was already approaching too much.

“Thank goodness I’m not any smaller and he isn’t any bigger.”

“Weiss...where do you want it?” Jaune grunted, “I’m close!”

If wasn’t for the fact danger could arrive soon and all hands needed to be deck, Weiss could’ve easily entertained letting him give it to her inside without question. However, they had things they needed to do.

“Mouth~” Weiss shut her eyes tightly. Every muscle in her body tensed violently as another orgasm hit her. The petite girl still had enough sense to remove her teeth from his shoulder and bit down on his hoodie, muffling her scream as best she could, which wasn’t much.

Jaune bit down on his lip, pushing through Weiss’s grip on him to allow her to ride her wave as long she could before having to finally lift her off and laying her beside him. “Weiss, I’m- ah!” The girl may have been flushed and dazed, but that’s been this entire experience. Weiss didn’t miss a beat in taking Jaune back into her mouth, letting him cum in a place that wouldn’t leave any stains or potentially cause future problems.

The potent taste wasn’t anything to write home about, yet Weiss found herself moaning and doing her best to take every last drop. He had to give, blushing all the while. How dangerous. She could get used to this. Finally she swallowed everything and even clean around the tip before laying limply beside Jaune. Her head turned towards a ticking clock in the room.

“Eleven minutes. That means we have four or five more to rest. Hehehe, pretty good time.” Weiss put her hand on her forehead and let her body treasure the rest time.”

Jaune couldn’t help but watch his flushed girlfriend catch her breath. He gently lifted his hand to wipe displaced strands of hair out of face and admire her eyes. Even when tired, Weiss remained beautiful. “Need me to get you a water, or perfume?”

“I’ll get those in a moment. Thank you though.” She rolled over to lay her head on him. “Hmmm you’re warm; also more unpredictable than I expected. What got into you back there? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You said you worried about me.” He said. Jaune looked to see Weiss look at with such genuine kindness that his own words made him blush and look away. “It...really made me happy to hear that. If that makes any sense.”

Perhaps their relationship was still sinking in for him emotionally? That’s what Weiss assumed anyways. “I get it.” She said smiling. Weiss turned his head back towards her. “I feel the same. I know things are still pretty new, but I really like us, you.” She blushed, “I really like you.” The flutter in her heart finally started calm down like the rest of her body. Weiss finally felt at ease. That was until Jaune pressed his lips to her again. Getting red again, Weiss broke the kiss. “Hey!”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“You can’t just do that right now? My...I just had to sw...you know, you.” She said flustered. “Aren’t you grossed out by that?”

Jaune thought about it for a second before shrugging. “Eh, it’s not like you just had it still sitting on your tongue. Besides I like kissing. Even if it after you swallow me.”

“........” Weiss hid her fired red face by pressing it against him.

“Weiss?”

She dared not say anything. “Idiot, he’s gonna ruin me completely at this rate. Saying things like that, is too much!” Weiss’s heart began fluttering once again.

[sorryimanon]

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings/tags: heart warming fluff, language, and suggestive themes

Word count: 2.5k

In which your boyfriend takes it upon himself to pamper you on his day off.

Author’s note: some self indulgent fluff. this is a continuation of dad!bakugou and torch daughter. there will be more. enjoy :)

D/N= daughters name

-

Katsuki heavily relied on you to babysit your rambunctious four year old daughter during the days when he'd be on patrol from dusk till dawn. Very rarely would he be home before the two of you tucked yourselves in for the night, leaving him to eat the leftovers from dinner alone at the table. As sad as it is, it didn't bother you in the slightest. In fact, knowing Katsuki was keeping the crime rate of Japan low, you were more than happy to become a stay at home mom. Most of your friends tried to talk you out of it, but you were already settled after giving your two weeks notice at your low paying job. Waking up and seeing your daughter first thing in the morning is better than staring blankly at a bright screen all day behind a musty wall, running on nothing but decaf coffee, and sluggishly going to and fro like a zombie.

Ever since your daughter manifested her quirk, you’ve been trying your best to maintain her sudden outbursts while at home. The doctor prescribed it as Torch: the ability to become a human torch and ignite flames throughout your body and fingertips. For now d/n is only capable of setting herself on fire, using the flames as a barrier to protect her from any harm instead of combating. However, sometimes she'll forget to extinguish herself, having you to manually use an actual fire extinguisher on her. Burn marks would litter the outskirts of your shirts, the aftermath ash smudged on your face, and the tiny hairs on your forearms long gone after handling d/n.

Your boyfriend appreciates the way how you compose yourself around d/n, not allowing the temptation to fling the little gremlin out the window prevail, because if the roles were reversed it'd be a whole different story. Sometimes he sits back in his desk chair, after a long night of meandering around the city, and tries to remember the last time you were properly treated. Of course, Katsuki never fails to remind you day and night he loves you through his actions, some including selfish indulgence late at nights, but all in all he didn't lack being the hopeless romantic counterpart for you. He wanted you to take a break from it all, have him handle the at home duties and the slimy daughter. Leaning back against the chair with his brows furrowed slightly, he began to mentally plan out your day already.

It was a Friday when Katsuki forced himself out of the comfortable security that is your arms and walked with light feet to his daughters bedroom. Today is his day off, so he has to make sure everything goes smoothly or else he's going to have more burn marks on his office desk.

He didn't bother knocking first and saunters in the familiar space, the faint snores from d/n somehow relaxing him. Her walls were freshly painted a light shade of blue, the contrast not too saturated to peel the attention away from her posters that covered every inch of her room, all of which were pictures of his prohero colleagues. D/N had to beg for her father to purchase a Deku poster, one of which she saw don display when the both of you brought her to the mall for a quick trip. He internally cringes every time he makes eye contact with the lifeless eyes of Deku when he enters her room.

Katsuki neared his daughter and kneeled down to where his head was leveled with hers, chuckling lightly when finding a small pool of drool collecting on her cheek.

"Wake up little shit," he whispers, nudging her uncovered shoulder with his knuckles, startling her eyes to flutter open. D/n nearly gasped at the sight of her father. The covers that were wrapped snuggly around her fell at the foot of her bed when she jolted up in surprise, eyes brimming with excitement.

"It's today right? Mommy's day!" Katsuki covered her mouth with his abnormally large hand, not wanting her obnoxious voice to blow their cover.

"Yes, but you're gonna have to be quiet for daddy. Don't want to spoil the surprise for mommy, you understand ya little brat?"

Hand still attached to her mouth, d/n nodded her head feverishly, hands clenched into tiny fits. Once he thinks she's shimmered down a little, he finally removes his hand and motions her to follow him.

Meanwhile in the other room, you were still fast asleep, limbs not once switching from their position over the cozy blanket. The chill breeze from the propped window regulated your body temperature nicely, along with the beautiful songs sung by the birds that reside in the trees close by. You stirred awake momentarily, feeling the loss of a presence that's usually laying beside you during these times of slumber. Katsuki's side was empty, the indent from his body molded onto the foam mattress, leaving you to believe he woke up not that long ago.

After convincing yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, you decided to search for the missing blonde. You crack open the door to a weird combination of radio music blaring throughout the house, and the delicious smell of something cooking in grease. It's no doubt your boyfriends doing. He always likes to impress you with how skillful he is in the kitchen. He hasn't made a dish you disliked yet nor will he allow himself to do so.

Standing side by side, minus the height difference, d/n and Katsuki both were too immersed in their cooking to notice you leaning against the island counter, trying very hard to not cry instantly at the sight in front of you. Watching them interact together was definitely something you'd be treasuring for the years to come.

A rush of savory and sweetness infiltrated your senses, the scent strong enough to knock you back to sleep. As if he read your mind overnight, Katsuki took it upon himself to prepare your favorite breakfast dishes. The dinner table made for three already set by none other than d/n, who currently looked proud at her work and craftsmanship. A large vase was propped in the center, a collection of vibrant flowers stuffed to the brim, the water inside almost overflowing. Attached to one of the stems of the flowers was a tag, the handwriting sloppy and hard to decipher.

To my dumbass, love ya - K.B

You felt the delicate touch of your daughter wrapping her hand around yours, giving it a slight tug before pulling you into the kitchen again. Katsuki flicked his gaze to you now, flashing the same mischievous grin you grew to love. his hands simultaneously worked on the food while taming the animal, that is indeed your daughter, from bumping into the pan handles.

"What's all this for?" You asked, the question directly appointed to both your boyfriend and daughter.

"Oh, so I can't treat my sexy girlfriend to a good meal?" he teased while setting the burners to low, letting the food cool off before plating it. Your daughter audibly gagged at the comment and swatted Katsuki's arm.

D/N's tiny legs were faster than yours and reached the cabinet where the plates and cutlery were stored at. To her dismay, the cabinet was higher than she anticipated. trying her best to waiver down the disappointment as she climbed on the sleek marble counter top, losing her footing here and there. Katsuki caught her in time before she misplaced her footing and almost toppled onto the floor.

"May I need to remind you not to climb on the damn counter tops anymore d/n?" he scolded as he put her down before grabbing enough plates for everyone.

Pursing her lips tightly, she crossed her arms and said, "But if I'm going to be a future hero then I have to battle my way through tough obstacles!"

U.A's immense training and work studies came in handy when dealing with d/n's hard headed ideologies. It's been a stressful reoccurrence, having to constantly teach her the importance of being a hero at such a young age. Her impulsive tendencies mirrored the blondes old habit of taking action before thinking. But there was always a saying when storing away your fear and facing danger head on.

"That's true, but sometimes a little teamwork wouldn't hurt. Your father should know a thing or two about that when he was a young U.A student," you said as you patted her head.

"What'd you say shitty woman? Talking crap so early in the morning already?" a strange popping sound alerted you to turn around, only to find Katsuki flaring his flashy quirk with a glare that could splice you open.

But his alarming gaze wasn't the thing that was scaring you at the moment.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR QUIRK IN THE HOUSE! YOU'RE GONNA SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM AGAIN, IDIOT!"

-

You thought the smorgasbord of a breakfast was the last of your boyfriends romantic gestures, but you should've known better once he demanded you to change out of your sleep attire and into something to  wear outside. Not thinking twice about where he was dragging you to, including daughter, you decided to play it safe. He approved on your choice of ripped jeans, synthetic tank top, and thrown on cardigan once heading off to the car.

The car ride to the mysterious destination was short lived as your boyfriend pulled up into the driveway of his old house. Mitsuki stood waiting by the threshold of the doorway, waving her fingers sweetly to whom you can only assume was you and not her only son. She stepped off the porch once Katsuki shifted the car in park, unlocking the doors as well. His mother reached the side where d/n stayed strapped in her seat and yanked the door open.

"Ah my little princess! How have you been? I missed you so much!" She unbuckled d/n's seat belt and flattened her in a tight hug, squeezing till her eyes popped out. "I can't wait to spend the weekend with you baby girl! Are you excited to have a little fun with grandma?!"

"Calm the fuck down, you're gonna kill her if you keep squeezing!" Katsuki's voice boomed out of the window.

"Oh pipe down you little shit I'm not harming her! Also don't talk to me like that! You're old enough to treat me with some respect by now!"

"SHUT UP YOU OLD HAG! JUST TAKE THE LITTLE GREMLIN AND GO!"

After the heated exchange, Katsuki eventually calmed down and drove the two of you back to the house in complete silence. It was quite a shift in a sense of environment wise. By now d/n would be begging you to make her some pudding or pour her a cup of lemonade, then place yourselves in front of the tv watching a random kids program till evening. Tonight you lend the torch to your boyfriend, allowing whatever devious plan he conjured up to unfold.

Before you could shuffle into your shared bedroom, Katsuki placed his calloused hands onto your cramped shoulders. Merely centimeters from your ear, he laid a chaste kiss on the area beneath it, smiling at your innocent reaction to his sudden actions and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You smelt the familiar scent of caramel and men’s soap, both of which you undoubtably loved when combined.

“Suki?” Upon hearing his nickname, Katsuki quirked an eyebrow at you. “What’s with all the romantic gestures lately? Cooking my favorite breakfast, the flowers, and our daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her! It’s just nice not to worry about if she’ll set the curtains on fire again.”

You felt the vibrations of him chuckling behind you.

“Isn’t it obvious? I just want to fuck the shit out of you,” you sat paralyzed by his bluntness. his tuft hair tickled the underside of your chin, earning him an acute giggle from you. “I’m just kidding, pretty face. I figured you needed a weekend where you just relax and did nothing. Let me do all the work. That’s including getting rid of the brat.”

Shifting in his arms to where you can face him, you can now see the adoration oozing from usual heated glare of his vermillion eyes, the scowl long gone and replaced with a soften feature not so many from the outside can witness. To think this was the man you devoted yourself and love for, to allow him to bare witness anything and everything you endure. He’s a man of showing his compassion through his actions, not lousy words of affirmations that anyone could sputter out and proclaim its love. No, he reflects back everything right with the world, even when you felt the weight of it searing through your system, dragging it down with you. The same explosive blonde awaits patiently by the opening for you to enter, no matter how long it’ll take for you to accept his love. Because he’ll be there. Waiting.

And here he is waiting. In your arms to repeat those three words you made out from watching the movement of his lips.

The words leave your mouth effortlessly, the proclamation hanging in the air between you two.

“I love you too, Katsuki. Thank you so much, for everything.” Like so, you kiss the plump flesh of his lips, the same inflammation of your heart burning as before. The strong muscle of his tongue prods your entrance, practically begging by licking your bottom lip. Katsuki grabbed your chin as gentle as he could muster, titling it for a better leverage to explore your mouth in return. Your hands trailed across the defining shape of his collarbones, rubbing any part of his body so that your fingers remained busy. Both of you hum in satisfaction, relishing in the feeling of the intimate moment. To your disliking, he removes his lips from yours and hovers instead, panting from the mini-make out session seconds ago.

“I’m going to marry you some day, mark my words. So don’t act fucking stupid when I pop the question,” he hotly proclaims, not once removing those piercing red eyes from yours. That’s when you knew he wasn’t bullshitting. If there’s one thing you learned about Katsuki over the years of dating, is that he doesn’t throw out promises in the air nonchalantly without keeping them. You can vaguely hear the ominous sound of wedding bells in your ears.

“Sounds intriguing. I always wanted to see you in a suit and tie.”

“Ya know, maybe someday might be tomorrow-.”

You cut him off with a scorching peck, making his eyes widen and dilate with every given second you laid your lips onto his. “Shut up babe and ravish me already.”

A mischievous grin forms on his mouth as he links his arms around the back of your knees and hoists you over his shoulder. He erupted into fits of laughter after hearing you squeak from the abruptness. The door to your shared bedroom came into view, your boyfriend kicking it with his free foot before entering through the threshold.

“You’re in for a long night sweetheart. Now that our daughter isn’t here, I’m not holding back on anything,” he threatens as he lays you down on the comforter.

Another thing you learned from your relationship. Katsuki is always true to his word.

-

[thran-duils]

Was Ich Liebe (P.1)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark.  Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 4,301 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Author’s Note: I did not have the ability to do a one shot. As usual, this is 18+.

Intro || Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Your legs and core were burning as you ended your routine to “Walk” by Pantera. You slowly slid down the pole as it was coming to an end, ending in a deep squat at the end, ass towards the crowd.

Turning back against the lights shining at you, you crawled on your knees seductively taking bills being held out and swiping up ones that had been tossed.

The tips were good tonight. You swiped your top from the ground you had thrown off halfway through much to the pleasure of the crowd, showing off your glow in the dark skull hand pasties. Happy autumn. And you walked off, holding your cash and looking forward to switching back to six inch heels to walk around now that your set was over.

Fixing your winged eyeliner, you spotted Thor coming in through the door to the dressing room. Everyone straightened up at his presence. He came straight over to you though. “Perle room, Y/N.”

That was a private customer room. It was easier being on the stage because you were blinded from the crowd for a lot of it with the lights. One on one was harder to dissociate since they were the only other soul in the room.

“You’re picking the songs. He paid for three.”

That was always a gamble; depending on what genre the customer liked, it could go up or down hill really quick.

Thor leaned in close and whispered in your ear, “And he’s a friend of mine, so behave, you hear? Make sure he leaves satisfied. He loves ass so grind, yeah?”

A friend of his was shady no doubt. But you nodded, making eye contact through the mirror. Thor smirked before planting a kiss on your temple.

“Good set by the way.”

“Thank you,” you said as he straightened up and turned to leave you.

Shit. That meant you needed to change. Which is why you always brought an extra set of lingerie. You went to your locker and pulled out the black set.

<><><>

Since it was going to be more intimate, you chose “Was Ich Liebe” by Rammstein to start. It would allow a lot of grinding.

When you walked in, he was already sitting on the opposite of the dark room in the black light. Even in the darkness, you recognized the man. It was not hard to do so with his high standing in the mob.

Tony Stark.

He was to be treated like a high-ranking customer and you were doing to do that.

You started on the pole, circling slowly before climbing and hooking your leg to spin controlled around.

Sliding down, you crawled on all fours to him, pulling yourself up by holding onto his knees that were already spread in anticipation of you. Turning around you ground your ass into his pelvis. Leaning back your face brushed his.

“What’s your name?” he breathed into your ear. You told him your fake name and his lips tugged up at the corner briefly. “You’re real name, sweetheart.”

“That is my real name.”

He chuckled, his nose nuzzling into your neck. “If you insist so, sweetheart.”

You fell into the music, alternating between him and the pole. Your second song started, “Problem” by Natalia Kills.

You moved back to his lap. His hands ran up and down your thighs as you grinded. Which was okay until his fingers slipped past your thong, cupping your sex as you ground into him. You lost rhythm with your lap dance and his breath was hot at your ear. “Just like that, keep going. You are doing beautifully.”

Men getting handsy in the private rooms was not unusual. Especially not ones who paid like he had but you workers knew to dispel it as much as possible. Do not let them get too bold.

You had to be crafty about how you maneuvered out of the situation though. He was Thor’s friend and you knew he was powerful. You resumed grinding, and his nose brushed your neck, inhaling deeply. His fingers threatened to push in and you reacted quickly. You moved out of his lap to dip down in your dancing, forcing his hand away. You were still doing what Thor wanted, giving him a good show. Your hands gripping your ankles, you moved your ass in rhythm with the song.

Tony was not going to be deterred though. Gripping your hips firmly, he pulled you back into his lap with a rough tug. He forced your legs open again and his hand was snaking past your panties again.

As the song sang about claiming your body, Tony’s fingers slid into your pussy and you jumped away from his embrace. You stood a couple feet away, holding your arms tightly around yourself. He was frozen, looking at you expectantly.

“You… you’re not supposed to touch us. It’s against the rules,” you told him, keeping the tremor out of your voice miraculously. You knew what trouble could come from denying a man like him.

Tony brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them off slowly, tasting you. Your heart was hammering with the intense stare off he was having with you. He was handsome as all hell, but you knew he was the type of dangerous you should not have in your life.

He finally shrugged. “Noted. My apologies. I’ll behave, scouts honor.”

He beckoned you back with two fingers.

You swallowed your unease and came back, resuming. He kept his hands off of you like he vowed he was going to. Still, you spent a lot of the time on the pole during your final song “Inertia Creeps” by Massive Attack.

At the end, Tony stood up and he came up to you at the pole. You looked up at him with curiosity; men usually did not move when you left the room.

He smiled devilishly down at you and held out a couple of folded hundreds. He was giving you $200 in tips? Your eyes widened and he forced them into your hand.

Before you could react, he leaned in and caught your mouth. His lips were soft but his force was rough. You were dazed when he pulled away. He winked at you.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon, sweetheart. Thanks for the sweet dreams.”

<><><>

Next weekend you were called to the Perle room again. And again, you found Tony there. He chose the set list this time and had you starting out with “Dissolved Girl” by Massive Attack. He had enjoyed the other song so much, he wanted to see you perform more of the album in front of him.

“I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. It hasn’t worked.”

His hands came up, caressing your breasts. You turned your head and his hands loosened. He laughed, nipping at your ear.

“Right, right. The rules. Darling, do you know how hard it is to remember those around you?”

“I’ve heard that before. It doesn’t make the rules any less real,” you returned, pulling away from his embrace and sashaying back to the pole.

He was watching you hungrily as you worked yourself around the pole. There was a storm brewing in his eyes.

“How would you like to make some money outside this club?”

Dipping low, you met his eyes and saw he was serious.

“If you’re asking me to fuck you, I’m married.”

That was information you rarely gave out. But Tony seemed the type of man you needed to put a hard wall up with.

Tony gave you a wide grin. “No, not fucking. Just fun. I wanna have a night out. I just want company.”

Some of the girls did escort work like that. And since it was outside the club you got to keep everything, no tax was taking off the top. And your electricity bill was going to be higher next month since winter was coming.

You did not answer him immediately, rolling the idea around. Knees spread on the ground, dancing, you met his eyes again. He was still waiting for an answer.

Getting back up sultrily, you came to sit back in his lap. He hummed in approval as you said, “Sure. Where we going?”

<><><>

“Going to whore yourself out again?” Michael asked, his words already slurring.

You were wearing a peacoat coat over your dress but he could still it was short. He disapproved of you stripping but he always backtracked when you were able to pay the bills. And more so, bring him his favorite bottle of liquor every other night. Especially since he rarely brought any money in himself. You felt an obligation to him since you had been high school sweethearts.

“For your information, no. I’m going out with friends.”

A white lie.

“What friends? Your co-hooker friends? Glad you keep such great company. A bunch of pathetic bitches just like you, starving for validation…”

“No. Well-paying friends who want my company,” you spat without thinking, angry he was always putting you down.

He got up out of his chair and you moved quickly. The last time he had laid hands on you, you had to take a week off of work and Thor had been pissed.

Your hand was on the door handle, and you had it opened quick. He stumbled and that gave you enough time to get the door closed and move down the hallway. The elevator was not an option cause it was too slow and you took the stairwell, not missing him yelling expletives at you.

He would be passed out well before you got home.

<><><>

Your dress clung tight to your body. You looked around the restaurant, worrying that you were going to be stood up. You had been here for twenty minutes and had ordered a glass of wine.

You were halfway through it without a sign of him. This place was five star, and you did not want to do a walk of shame.

Thankfully for you, Tony sauntered in five minutes later and he slid into the booth across from you, adjusting his jacket as he did. Leaning back against the booth, he threw his arm across the back of it, relaxing back, looking at you. You had chosen the seat across the table.

“You’re punctual. That’s new.”

“Was I not supposed to be?”

“Darling. I never am. Next time let’s ride together. Reservations for 7? I’m here at 7:30 at best and they know to keep the table for me.”

The first date had not even started, and he was already talking about the next.

He suddenly noticed you had a chair and as the waiter approached. He gestured at you and said, “What’s this chair doing here? Is there supposed to be more people than can fit on this booth?”

“Uh, no, Mr. Stark. It was just put there in case someone wanted it—"

“Do you want it?” Tony asked you, interrupting.

You knew the answer he wanted. Calmly, you stood up and moved around the table to sit right up next to him. His hand lying across the back of the booth caressed your shoulder.

“No, here is fine,” you said.

“That’s what I thought. Now, let’s get you something delectable to eat to match how I know you taste. Top notch deserves the same in return.”

He winked salaciously and you blushed. This off-limits escorting was not going to last long; you could sense that. He was not a man that would be satiated with just a taste. He wanted the whole course.

And that whole course was you spread out for him whenever he so pleased.

<><><>

On the fourth date, he took the plunge.

His town car took the opposite way from your turn, and you looked at him.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere where we can enjoy each other fully.”

You opened your mouth, but Tony held a finger up to your lips, winking. There was a sinister feeling behind that wink, and you closed your lips. He smiled in approval, “You’re so well behaved, sweetheart. You’re going to be a lot of fun.”

At the hotel room, legs spread wide, Tony’s large hands held you at your waist as he drove up into you hard and quick. He was not a gentle lover.

He rocked forward quickly and in one fell swoop had managed to maneuver you to pull you with him and you ended up on top. Lining himself back up with your entrance, he plummeted back in, resuming his unforgiving pace. You cried as he held your arms tight, keeping you in place to use like his own personal toy. You were an object to him that he wanted to possess.

<><><>

Leg crossed over the other, relaxing back in the armchair, Tony demanded, “What’s her name?”

Thor told Tony your fake name without missing a beat as he worked across the desk. Tony had come here for answers and Thor would be hard pressed to give them away completely.

Tony stared at him across the table unimpressed and Thor stopped typing, noticing. He simpered, “Tony, it’s for her safety.”

“Are you afraid for her? Because of me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because her husband is a real piece of work.” He noticed the look on shocked Tony’s face, and he said, “Yeah, she wasn’t lying about that. I’m assuming she told you she was married. He might be a deadbeat, but he knows how to load a punch. If he found out she was doing more than dancing, I would be afraid for her. He’s already made her miss a couple weeks of work because of his Rambo fists when he’s gotten riled up just about the dancing. Which makes no sense to me because he barely brings money in, and she is essentially the sole breadwinner.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “And you want her to stay with that?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Seems like you did.”

Thor snorted, “No, I just know what lengths you are willing to go to get your way. And I’m not sure I want you taking this on. As your friend. It’s advice.”

“It won’t be hard. I want her, so it’ll be worth the effort,” Tony said.

<><><>

“It was nice,” you told Tony as you sat in the back of his town car when he asked you how you had enjoyed the night.

He had taken you to a high-end seafood restaurant on a large boat docked at the marina. You meant what you said; it was delicious.

“I thought you would like it,” Tony stated, scooting closer and an arm slipped around your shoulder, holding you closer.

He was staring into your eyes, and you smelled the bourbon on his breath. You no doubt reeked of alcohol yourself. There was something lurking beneath his gaze though. And you soon found out what.

“Y/N,” Tony murmured. You froze and he smiled at your shock. His fingers trailed up your arm and came to cup you under the chin. “That’s such a lovely name.”

Unable to stop yourself, you asked, “How…?”

“Money talks,” Tony informed you as his hand spread to hold you beneath the jaw, fingers trailing behind your ear. You tried to pull away but his arm around you held tight, stopping your movement. He smirked briefly, “I’m not here to hurt you, darling. Don’t ever think that. I just simply adore you. I wanted to know about you. I want to take this further.”

“Further than just the bed?”

“Yes. I want you entirely.”

His firm tone was sincere. What had you gotten yourself into?

He pressed the button, and the partition went up between the two of you and the front seat. His hand left your neck to snake up your dress. “I want to call you by your real name when I take you this time.” He kissed you roughly and his lips brushed yours as he vowed, “I’ll have you whenever and wherever.”

<><><>

Months later, you awoke in the king bed in the mountain top suite. Sneaking a peek at the bedside clock, you saw it was almost four in the morning. You needed to leave. Tossing a look at Tony, seeing he was still sleeping, you tried to unravel yourself from his embrace as gently as you could.

But it was futile.

Tony yanked you back to him as you tried to crawl out of the bed. You protested lightly and he shushed you by roughly rolling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours, growing in intensity as he woke from slumber. His leg wrapped around you, trapping you against him. His cock was already growing hard again after the short nap the two of you had taken after the last tussle in the sheets.

You tried to make space as you said, “You know if I’m going to get home the time I said I was going to, I have to leave now.”

You were hours from home. He had taken you up into the mountains for the last couple of days. You had said you were going on a work trip with your coworkers per your managers request to dance at a new club. Michael would never know. That is unless you came home at the wrong time; then he would start to get suspicious.

The last couple of days had been really nice. Tony had been kind… until tonight. He always treated you to the best and made sure you were well taken care of. But he had gotten… off when he noticed you tonight having taken a nice tone and smiled at a busboy as you dropped off dishes near the kitchen entrance that was out of your way. You had only been trying to be nice to the guy. You knew what it was like working customer service and you only wanted to make his job a little bit easier. And he was not hard on the eyes. Receiving small flirtations was harmless in your eyes and it boosted your mood. It had done just that for the guy.

But upon coming back to the room, Tony was callous, and you had to pry him out of his shell with sweet words and caresses. He had been condescending, asking you if you got off on pleasing men in front of him. When you had told him you did not know what he was talking about he had torn your dress down the front, ignoring your shocked cries at his brutal behavior, and forced you onto the bed. The tatters of the dress had been torn from you completely and he had done the same to your underwear and then forcibly removed your bra from you. He had not even waited for you to get wet before slamming up into you.

“Who gives a fuck what that good-for-nothing husband of yours thinks?” He nipped at your neck, sucking in roughly. His hands gripped and held you close.

“My face does,” you retorted, trying to unwind yourself from him. But Tony was quick, locking you back down. “Tony, please.”

You managed to unlock yourself despite his grabbing and you slid off the bed, hitting the ground, your ass hitting it roughly. He exhaled sharply, glaring down at you and you moved quickly backwards, getting to your feet unsteadily. He was already getting out of the bed, and you moved quickly, snatching up your bag. Your dress was ruined, which was no matter. You could return in your sweats and top.

Tony was on you though and his grip on your bag was tight and he yanked back, drawing you with it. You let go as you stumbled as to not lose your balance and face plant. He used his momentum to throw the bag across the room by the sliding glass door.

“Tony! Stop playing games!” you said desperately, trying to move towards where he threw it, but he stepped in your way. “You know I have to get ready! You can’t be jealous of him. You know what this is.”

“So what if I’m jealous?” Tony asked, continuing to advance towards you and you kept walking backwards. Your back hit the wall, stopping your advancement. “The thought of you with him makes me sick.”

“He’s my husband—"

Tony slammed his fist on the counter, and you jumped back against the wall, causing it to shake slightly. “Stop making fucking excuses! He’s a piece of shit and you know it! Why won’t you just accept me?”

“Tony, I do—” you tried to placate him.

“Don’t you lie to me,” he warned in a snarl. “If that were true, you would be loyal to me and me only. You know how I feel. I want you. Wholly.”

That was so unfair of him to say when you knew he was married. But you also knew better than to point that out. Not when he was this belligerent; you knew belligerent men were hardly able to be reckoned with and calmed down. No, you needed to use other facts.

“And you did, this whole weekend,” you pointed out in shaky tones.

Tony’s laugh was maniac, “’Weekend’. Yeah, that’s what I mean when I say wholly.”

You tried to dodge around him quickly to go towards your bag, but he jolted out and grabbed you around the waist, swinging you around. You kicked your legs as he dragged you. You bounced on the mattress, not fully on it but not fully off it either. You grabbed at the sheets to get leverage and you got grounded just as his hand closed around your ankle. You pulled away with ferocity, landing on the other side of the bed. Scrambling, you grabbed your bag. Tony’s arm came around you, pulling you back.

“Tony!” you cried out, your voice cracking. “Please stop!”

There was a sharp knock at the door and the two of you froze. Tony swore underneath his breath and let you go, causing you to stumble because you had been relying on him.

He snatched up his briefs and threw them on before storming towards the door as another knock came.

He opened the door a crack and sighed frustrated, “What?”

You heard Happy, “Uh, I was coming to get Y/N… it’s time to take her back? I went to bed super early so I would be ready to take her back now?”

You were relieved to hear someone with sense.

“Fuck!” Tony snapped, tossing the door open and you squeaked, still naked. You rushed towards the hall to grab your sweats and sweater out and throw those on.

When you emerged again, Happy was waiting by the door and Tony was necking the bottle of bourbon he had bought. He slammed it back down on the counter and glared at you. You went to go towards him to kiss him goodbye to try to start to smooth things over, but he held up his hand forcibly and you stopped. He took another swig without looking at you.

Hurt, you turned towards Happy, who was looking at Tony with scrutiny as well before following you out the door. You fell asleep on the car ride home and when you arrived back at your place, Tony still had not texted you.

<><><>

Clutching your duffel bag, you climbed the stairs a week later to your apartment. Tony had been clipped in his responses since Happy had taken you home. You were growing simultaneously frustrated and nervous with possessive, aggressive behavior.

Upon walking in, you saw the living room was upturned. Your blood chilled and you immediately dropped your bag, going for the switchblade in your front pocket of it. It was out as you grabbed your cell phone out of your bag.

Just as you were about to dial 911, Tony emerged from the hallway, holding up his hand. “Darling, it’s just me.”

Dropping the hand with your phone, you demanded, “’Just you’? What are you doing?”

Tony shrugged, “What I needed to do.”

You did not like the way that sounded at all. And then you noticed all the blood on his hands and on the wetness on his black jacket, which was no doubt more blood. Your hand clutched your switchblade tighter. Tony’s eyes dropped to it, and he looked back up at you.

“Sweetheart, there’s no need for that. It’s just me.”

“’Just you’? Where’s Michael?”

Tony rolled his eyes, annoyed. He turned his back and walked towards the kitchen. He flipped the switch on in there as he moved towards the sink. You moved to follow him and upon seeing more of the kitchen, you saw Carol and Rhodes were sitting at the table, having a drink.

“Where’s Michael?” you repeated.

Washing his hands in the sink now, without a care for the blood splattering, Tony told you, “I could have used a gun, but this was personal.”

The horror of what he was admitting without outright saying it was washing down on you. Your hand wavered, threatening to drop your switchblade.

“You…you…” you stammered; your chest was tight.

Tony continued rinsing the blood off of his hands, unbothered. He finished as you stood there frozen by your shock. Shaking his hands off, he wiped them on his black jeans and turned back to face you. As soon as he started to come close, you regained sense of self and your hand gripped tighter on your blade again.

Tony was not having any of that. He was quick and gripped your wrist tightly, twisting it so you cried out, dropping the blade. He held you up to the wall by your throat.

His word was law sinking around you, “No more excuses, Y/N. You’re all mine now.”

~~~

Song list to set the mood for me while writing:

Was Ich Liebe -- Rammstein Walk -- Pantera Problem -- Natalia Kills Inertia Creeps -- Massive Attack Dissolved Girl -- Massive Attack Just For Me -- Saint Jhn feat. Sza

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx

[tonystarktogo]

Last part of the time travel crack ‘verse for now (and sorry for making you all worry about the scepter, I didn’t mean it that way, it just seemed like a good cut-off point tbh):

"The scepter! Did anyone keep an eye on the scepter?"

"I assure you," Agent Agent, who looks a little singed and has a bandage wrapped around one ear, yet continues to rock the personality-free drawl that tricks people into thinking he’s not worth paying attention to, speaks up, "that the scepter is still safely in SHIELD custody, Dr. Banner."

Banner scoffs.

Rogers grimaces.

Barton winces.

And oh, all other issues aside, the vindication of this moment is glorious. Tony feels fully justified in the doubtful look he aims at the screen. You know your show sucks balls when even your own operative doesn’t buy what you’re selling.

"That’s great," Banner says in a painfully droll voice. "But I’ll feel a lot better when we hand it over to our resident Asgardian prince for safekeeping rather than put it into a secret high-security facility and hope for the best. Like the one you stored the Tesseract in took Loki what, five minutes to take over?"

Woah, talk about burn. Tony doesn’t bother muffling his snicker. Who’d have thought Banner has it in him?

[continues under the cut]

"Hang on, wouldn’t it be better—" Rogers interrupts before Fury or Coulson can come up with an excuse, which judging by their sour-slash-carefully-blank expressions isn’t as easy as they’d like it to be.

Banner raises one hand. It shouldn’t be a power move on part with his green counterpart squashing a car in his fist, isn’t even particularly aggressive but for some reason Rogers shuts up. Immediately. The bright, eerily green eyes might have something to do with it. 

"If you’re going where I think you’re going, I advise you to reconsider," Banner growls, the vocals deep enough that Romanoff reaches for the nearest weapon. "Even setting my personal issues aside, it’s not worth the risk."

Barton sighs with what sounds less like exhaustion and more like sad resignation. "Hate to say it, Cap, but he’s right. Sending the scepter off-Earth with the Tesseract is probably the safest course of action we can take right now. We can’t count on being that lucky again."

"Agent Barton," Agent Agent’s words drip with such a pointedly polite friendliness, it’s a wonder he doesn’t spear his own tongue on it. "Please desist in trying to hand off objects that pose an immediate threat to global security to an unvetted alien who, while a valued ally, is in line for the throne of a foreign world."

And wow. Tony’s not gonna win a prize for his sensitivity any time soon, but there’s some things you just don’t say to a guy who got brainwashed into doing an alien’s bidding less than forty-eight hours ago. Going by the way Romanoff has gone rigid, she agrees.

Luckily for everyone present, Barton doesn’t bat an eye at the dig. He leans forward instead, elbows placed on his tights, the picture of relaxation. As long as you ignore the expression on his face that could possibly pass for a smile. If you catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye. Through a dirty mirror. 

"Not that I’m not glad to see you alive and well, Phil, because I am. But getting my head rolled once was already one time too many and if the Tesseract is powerful enough to draw fucking aliens to it then it’s too fucking powerful for us to protect." Barton’s voice becomes progressively lower as he continues his little not-having-any-of-your-shit rant. "More people are gonna get killed over that thing. Good people. Because we don’t have the damn resources to keep it safe. So if we gotta bet on Asgard for this, then that’s what we’re gonna fucking do because to be frank with you sir I’d rather lead the hostile aliens to a world ready for interstellar warfare than my own."

Thor straightens from where he’s been fixated on Loki for the past hour or so, trying to crawl into his brother’s skull through willpower alone by the looks of it, and dips his head in Barton’s direction. "Thank you for your faith," he says gravely, as though Barton hasn’t straight up told everyone in this room he wants to use Asgard as a shield-slash-sacrificial-offering. "I hope my people will prove worthy of it."

"Should be fine." Banner shrugs with a nonchalance Tony envies. "’s long as we take care of your murderous sibling first."

Thor winces. Loki’s face loses whatever expressiveness it had left and it already was at state zero: emotions not welcome here to begin with. 

But. Tony tilts his head. Why not just call Loki by his name? Unless, of course, Banner isn’t referring to him. But how would the infamous Hulk-slash-brilliant-scientist have gotten himself wrapped up in alien family drama? And is there a form Tony can sign? Because he hates being kept out of the loop.

"Avengers!" Fury snaps before things can get any more awkward. Which, good for him, but in Tony’s fine opinion he should have taken the win and be done with it. There’s just no winning against whatever type of madness — not to mention feelings — these people are so inconsiderately spreading inside his walls. "You’re not bartering off our best chance to defend ourselves against alien invaders, have I made myself clear? That’s an order."

Rogers scoffs at the screen and damn it, Tony’s determined not to like the guy but the way he just smirks humorlessly as he stares Fury down, all aww shucks did you want the pretty, glowy thing too and well too damn bad for you makes it hard. Especially when Rogers goes that little extra mile and asks with a plain as day air of who fucking cares: "Whatever gave you the impression that this is a negotiation, Director Fury?"

It’s just too great a line to resist and Tony is only human. He makes a sharp gesture with his hand and JARVIS disconnects the call before they witness Fury pop a blood vessel. Let that be Agent’s problem for the time being.

"So," Tony states after a moment. "Besides all but declaring war on SHIELD, the organization two people in this room are officially employed by, for the record, and dealing with Reindeer Games over there, what’s the plan?"

Nervous shuffling. Awkward grins. Badly-hidden glances going back and forth. 

Perhaps most notably, nobody protests the declaring-war-on-SHIELD part. Tony would ask but frankly he’s still on his first glass of scotch — meaning way too fucking sober for whatever madness the answer to that question will undoubtedly raise. It’s a sad, sad day in the history of mankind when Tony is the voice of reason in a room filled with one-person-armies.

"What about Shawarma?" Rogers, apparently the most uncomfortable with the pressing silence, blurts out.

Tony gives that pitiful attempt to change the subject the nice try, have to admit I didn’t see that coming but you’re gonna have to give me more than that look it deserves. As it turns out though, he may have been overestimating his present company’s average ability to read a room.

"I could go for a bite," Barton pipes up, earning himself a soul-shriveling, dead-eyed, where the fuck did I go wrong with you and how have I not killed you yet stare, courtesy of Romanoff that he brushes off with admirable ease. Still not moving an inch away from her either and if Tony’s noticed the way her hand’s been edging ever closer to the knife strapped to her calf, there’s no way Barton hasn’t.

"Sounds good," Banner chimes in with a twisted amusement that makes Tony want to scratch his eyes out. "I know just to the place."

*

They do eat Shawarma together. [All of them, even Loki, because Thor insists his brother is far too thin. Considering Barton doesn’t protest and the only person Loki tries to stab with his salad fork is Thor himself, nobody comments on it.]

As if to add insult to a very long list of injuries that Tony is dying to poke and prod at, the food tastes delicious.

*

Okay so the whole antagonizing SHIELD thing wasn’t planned, but I figured in this AU there was no drawn out battle and no bomb and so there was no ‘thank fuck we’re even alive right now’ relief to take the edge of. Instead everyone is pissed off and frustrated (if for very different reasons) and not outright attacking the helicarrier right now is about all the diplomacy Steve has the patience for at this point.

[cyantomatos]

Possession

Pairing: Dave York x fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, it’s pretty much just smut, derogatory language, tied up during sex, oral(fem receiving), PinV sex

Notes: Sooo...this is a thing. Anyone who knows me knows I really don’t like Dave honestly. His eyes in the movie freak me out because they’re just empty, and I don’t like most fics for him because people use him to write some kinky shit sometimes. Basically what I’m trying to say is I was kidnapped and forced to write this. (I love y’all, it was of my own free will, but I still don’t like Murder Man)

“That was cute. Did you have fun?”

You freeze at the voice drifting out of the darkness, your back to the room while the door clicks shut. Part of you had expected this, wanted it even, the cool and controlled possessive anger in his voice. That didn’t stop a shiver from running down your spine, some dormant survival instinct screaming that you needed to get out of this room. Right. Now.

When you don’t respond, however, you hear the voice again, and this time it’s much closer than before.

“Prancing around down there like I don’t own this pussy, I mean. Giving those poor idiots any hope that they’ll ever get to touch what’s mine.” Now that he’s closer you can hear the smirk in his voice, but a smile doesn’t mean you’re safe. Sometimes it means you’re in even more danger.

Squaring your shoulders you take a deep breath, trying to gather your confidence even with him looming behind you. “Didn’t you enjoy watching?”

All you get in response is a chuckle and a hard body pressing your front against the door, one of his hands pinning your right arm behind your back. “I always enjoy watching you baby, but I enjoy reminding you who you belong to even more.”

Dave’s words distract you from his free hand snaking under the hem of your dress until his fingers are on you. A dark chuckle ghosts past your ear when his fingers slide over damp lace, and despite the fact that you’ve spent most of the night riling him up you still burn in embarrassment at how wet you already are for him. 

“Did one of those boys downstairs get you this wet?” You shake your head, not trusting your voice with how his fingers are just ghosting over your clothed pussy. His head drops down, pressing his lips almost gently just under your ear. “What got you so wet then baby?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you know you won’t get anything else from him until you admit it.

“Dave…” It comes out as a whine, which wasn’t what you meant, but you double down on the desperation and press your hips back to chase the friction of his fingers. He moves his hand away entirely and tuts quietly, lips moving across your shoulder now to nudge the strap of your dress down and off your shoulder.

“Use your words, honey, you can do it.” You let out an indignant huff, fighting right on the edge of your pride and your desire to let him absolutely wreck you. When you’d made the split second decision to flirt back with some vapid intern downstairs you’d expected to be bent over a dresser as soon as you got back to the hotel room and railed within an inch of your life. This sweet, slow dismantling of your resistance was unexpected, but you weren’t complaining.

“You...you got me this wet.” The words are quiet, your pride clinging to them still, and his answering chuckle just makes the heat between your thighs grow.

“I didn’t get you this wet baby, I’ve barely touched you all night.” You let out a whine and press your hips back again, trying to grind against where you know he has to already be hard as a rock for you, but he leans back to deny you the contact.

“I think you got all worked up thinking about how jealous you were making me. But you weren’t baby, you were trying so hard and I wasn’t jealous at all. Do you know why?” You shake your head, rapidly losing the ability to pay attention to his words in your growing need for him to just touch you dammit.

Dave’s free hand comes up to grip your chin, twisting your head towards his, his lips pressing to yours possessively for a moment despite his assurance he wasn’t jealous. When your lips part you let out another whine and chase his lips, his fingers holding you in place.

“Because you’re mine baby. I own you, I own this pussy. I wasn’t jealous because I know at the end of the day my cock is the only one that makes you feel good, and more importantly, so do you. And, by the end of the night, this whole damn building is going to hear how I make you scream and beg for this cock.” 

You’re just a puddle of arousal by the time he’s done talking, your pride finally pushed down deep to make way for desperation. Frantically you nod in response, and he smirks triumphantly. “See baby, that wasn’t so hard.”

He releases you then, assured you’ll stay where he wants you now as he crouches down to kneel behind you. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle at his quiet groan as his knees bend, resisting the urge to make a crack about him being an old man, but a quick spank is enough to have you gasping and forgetting the joke entirely.

“Don’t laugh at me or you’re not cumming tonight.” Despite the serious words you know he’s fighting a smile, but you nod obediently anyway.

You would have been rendered speechless seconds later anyway when his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, ever so slowly tugging the soaked lace down your legs to pool by your ankles. His hands travel just as slowly up the back of your legs, ensuring you’re almost shaking with need by the time they settle on your ass, keeping the skirt of your dress up around your waist.

“Dave...please…” He shushes you softly, hands tugging back to arch your back and pull your ass towards him. You feel his lips press against the inside of your thighs, working his way up to where you really want him, and he pauses with his lips pressed just under the curve of your ass. “Who does this belong to baby?”

“You, you Dave, it belongs to you.” There’s no hesitation before you gasp the words out, and before you finish his mouth is already on you. He doesn’t hesitate either, mouth devouring you like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, and you have to put forth a concentrated effort to keep your knees from buckling.

One of your hands slaps flat against the door in an effort to hold yourself up, the other sliding behind you into his hair, and he nearly growls into your pussy when your fingers tug at the slightly untamed locks. His hair is always so neatly placed, the result of nearly a half-hour of careful work every morning. By the end of the day he’s run his fingers through it enough to unsettle it though, and you love messing it even more.

He knows your body so well, knows just where to lick and bite and how to curl his fingers just right to have you a quaking mess in minutes. His one-handed grip on your waist is enough to keep you up, for now, the strength he so rarely shows on full display.

All you’re able to get out before he pushes and shoves and throws you off the edge into bliss is a strangled moan of his name before you’re cumming hard on his mouth. You’re barely able to register the pleased moan against you through the hazy fog laying over your brain, but what you can tell is his mouth isn’t stopping.

You whimper and tug weakly at the hair still in your grip, trying to get him away from your oversensitive skin, but he doesn’t stop. In seconds you’re being shoved up the slope to another release, and you quickly fall over the edge again, whimpering and squirming under the careful ministrations of his mouth.

This time when you try shoving him away he listens, rocking back to sit on his heels, and you know without looking there’s a self-satisfied smirk on Dave’s face.

“Just...just need a minute...please…” You get your answer in the form of his hand gently stroking up the back of your thigh, and you’re suddenly struck by the way you have this man on his knees for you waiting for you to be ready for his touch again. 

When you give a nod a moment later he leans forward, his tongue sliding up the inside of one soaked thigh, lips pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin between your legs, and for a moment you think he’s going to spend the rest of the night with his head buried between your legs.

It’s just a moment, however, and then he’s climbing back to his feet. His hands continue the path up your thighs and stop on your hips as he presses back against you. His lips press just under your ear again and he murmurs to you, “Do you want my cock, baby? Be a good girl and use your words, tell me what you want.”

With a breathy whimper, you nod. “Please...I need you…”

His hands are moving immediately, sliding up to drag the zipper of your dress down. He slips the remaining strap off your shoulder so it pools at your feet with your panties. 

Dave’s hand lands on your shoulder, turning you to face him in the dim light of the room. You step towards him, stepping out of the pool of fabric at your feet, trying not to shiver under his gaze. Being seen naked by him hadn’t bothered you in a while, but as his eyes rake over your naked form you’re reminded of a predator assessing his prey.

He maneuvers you over to the bed and lays you down on your front, tapping your ass to signal you to lift your hips up. A pillow slides under your hip, propping you up in the air.

“Arms behind your back, baby.” You shuffle around until you’re laying with your weight on your chest, arms behind your back. There’s a sound of fabric shuffling behind you and then Dave’s tie is wrapped around your wrists. You feel a bit like a Thanksgiving turkey, trussed up and on display as Dave steps back to admire his work.

“Wouldn’t those interns downstairs love to see this?” He’s smirking, you can hear it, and you’re doing your best not to squirm under his gaze. That’s the thing about Dave, he loves to just look at you. He loves wrecking you as well, teasing and touching and fucking until you’re more of a puddle than a person. But his favorite is putting you on display like this until you���re begging for him to just touch you.

He steps forward, one knee on the bed as he leans forward, gently running his thumb down your glistening lips. The touch draws a whine from you, and you squirm in an attempt to press back against him. Dave lets out a tut, withdrawing his hand.

“Still so needy, even after cumming twice. Should I let you have anything else, or should I leave you like that and make you watch me. That would be a proper punishment, I think, not letting you have what you’re craving.” His words draw another whine from you and a chuckle from him.

There’s a shuffling sound as he undresses behind you, the soft clinking of his belt unbuckling going straight to your pussy. You feel the leather ghost across your bare ass moments later, and Dave chuckles darkly at the sight of you whimpering and squirming at the feeling.

“Such an eager little slut. Do you want me to use my belt on you? You like it when you can’t sit down for a week after don’t you, gets your pussy so wet for me.” To emphasize the point he slides the belt down, cool leather ghosting over your wet lips, and you could cry at the feeling of just barely getting the friction you want. 

The belt lands on the bed beside you, and instead, you feel his hand slide between your legs. The embarrassment of how you’re soaking the pillow beneath you is overwhelming for a moment until you hear him groan at the feeling. “So wet for me still, do you want my cock baby?” Your answer is cut off by the feeling of him quickly sliding two fingers into your aching hole.

“Please, Dave, please…” He shushes you quietly, fingers slowly sliding in and out of you. The room is filled with the sound of your wetness with every slow thrust of his fingers, and it’s all you can do not to cry at how close it is to what you want and yet so far away.

You press your face into the bed below, hips pressing up against his fingers desperately. “Dave, please, just fuck me…” He only hums in response, sliding his fingers out and using them to spread your pussy to watch your hole clench and flutter around nothing desperately. 

“You’re so pretty when you beg, baby.” Dave’s hand slides down, slowly circling your clit with soaked fingers, and you feel tears gathering at the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming his teasing is. Your mind is fuzzy, focused only on getting him inside you, and barely even able to do that.

Suddenly his hand is gone, and you feel the bed shift with his movements. His hands grip your hips, pulling you higher up. “Do you want me to fuck you, baby?” You frantically nod and let out a desperate whimper when you feel the head of his cock rubbing against your soaked pussy.

“I’m not sure you deserve it after what you pulled downstairs.” Whatever the sound that comes out of your mouth is, it definitely isn’t words. You try to beg him, your brain forming the words to assure him you’re a good girl that deserves to be fucked, but somewhere along the way the message gets muddled and all that comes out is a keening whine and a garbled attempt at words.

His hips push forward, but instead of pushing him into you his cock slips down, sliding between your thighs, and almost the entire length of his cock slides right over your clit. He pulls back and thrusts along the same path again, grunting quietly. 

“If you can cum like this before I do baby, maybe I’ll give you my cock.” You open your mouth to protest, he knows when you’re oversensitive like this any friction on your clit is almost painful, but he thrusts forward again and all that comes out is a broken moan. 

You lose track of how long this goes on, Dave thrusting between your thighs, his grunts and quiet moans mixing with the slick sounds of his cock sliding through your wetness. You can feel your release building, the coil tightening in your belly, but you can also hear Dave’s breath stuttering and catching as his release builds as well. 

“Please...please…” You’re squirming now, trying to get the angle just right to push yourself over the edge, and he lets out a breathless chuckle above you.

“Are you getting close, baby? Do you want to cum? I know you want my cock inside you, but you have to cum first for that, and I’m getting close.” You let out a whine at his words, your breath shallow and quick as you continue to squirm beneath him.

“Please…’m close…” He must take pity on you, or maybe he wants to be inside you just as bad as you want it because you feel two of his fingers slide into you and begin quickly fucking in and out of your aching, clenching hole. Within seconds the pressure building in you breaks and you’re pushed over the edge.

You nearly scream as the pleasure washes over you, and as it is you’re not really sure what sounds you do make. All you know is when your walls finally stop rippling around his fingers you’re a boneless mess on the bed below him, your body twitching with aftershocks.

He doesn’t let you relax this time, however, and before you can beg him to wait he sheaths his entire length inside you with a strangled groan. He’s eager, the torture and teasing he’s inflicted on you affecting him just as much. Dave slides out before snapping back into you, setting a quick pace.

There’s a hand in your hair yanking your head up so your face is no longer pressed into the bed, and the words you hear are practically snarled out as his control finally breaks after so long of teasing you. “This whole building is going to hear you scream when you cum on my cock, I want them all to know who this pussy belongs to. None of them are even going to think about touching you ever again.”

You’re not sure you can even manage another orgasm after the first three wrecked you so badly, but the feeling of his cock finally filling you after so long of begging for it is promising you will. You’re so wet he barely needs to push to slide into you, and the sound of how absolutely soaked you are after his teasing fills the room.

A string of incoherent begging and pleading joins the sound of skin slapping against skin, and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. Dave is talking again, probably not aware of what he’s saying as he fucks into you, but the words are pushing you closer and closer to your release.

“You’re not going to be able to walk straight after I’m done with you.”

“I’m going to fill this pussy until you can’t move without thinking about my cock.”

“I can’t believe how easy it is to get you begging for me to fuck you, such an easy slut when there’s a cock involved.”

Dave is usually quiet when he fucks you, the only sounds he makes being quiet grunts or occasional comments on how good your pussy feels on his cock, but tonight he just keeps talking. 

You know he can feel how close you are by the way your walls grip his cock. His hands shift your hips and suddenly you’re screaming his name as his cock repeatedly slams into something devastating inside you. Seconds later you’re cumming and cumming hard, your exhausted walls clenching around his cock as he continues to hammer into you.

Through the haze of pleasure, you hear Dave grunt and thrust into you one last time, painting your walls with rope after rope of cum before he slumps over you slightly. After a moment to collect himself he slowly slides out of you, and you know he’s pausing to watch his cum leak out of your abused pussy. 

His presence behind you fades for a moment before he’s back, gently undoing the tie around your wrists and swiping a cool wet cloth between your legs. The pillow is moved, and he shifts you to your side before crawling in behind you.

Dave’s arms pull you close, and you feel his fingers gently probing your wrists to make sure his tie hadn’t left any marks. He presses soft kisses to your shoulder as his hands slide over your body, checking for marks despite the fact that he hadn’t really done anything to leave lasting marks tonight.

When he finishes, content you’re safe and whole, he tugs the hotel blanket up over your bodies. You finally find your voice, a soft smile on your face.

“If that’s the kind of reaction I get when I flirt with other men, I might have to do it more often.” You get a soft growl in response, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Careful baby, next time I might have to show them in person who you belong to.”

You groan as your walls clench around nothing at the thought, and Dave chuckles behind you. He pulled you close, wrapping his body around yours possessively, and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Get some sleep, we have a flight in the morning.”

[afictionaladventure16]

Some Kind of Miracle (Avengers x Teen!Fem!Reader) Pt. 1

Part 1 out of 3

Avengers Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts and tendencies. 

Word Count: 2,867

Author’s Note: If you have seen the episode Some Kind Of Miracle from Grey’s Anatomy, then you have an idea of how this fic will go. I kind of based it off of that episode. Since this will be in parts, if you have seen the episodes, please don’t spoil it for others! thank you! 

Also, a big thank you to @snarky--starky​ for editing this for me! 

Every mission felt the same. Not, the actual mission itself, but the feeling you had before it. The gut-wrenching nervousness usually went away after a couple of minutes, the feeling of satisfaction, easiness. That feeling when you knew everything was going to go well. You’d wake up with a smile on your face and an eagerness to start the day, to get the mission over with because you know the outcome. Well, no one ever knows the outcome, you just always had a good feeling about how an outcome would end up and so far, you’ve been right. 

Today was different. Today, you could not shake off the feeling that this mission was different. An uncertain feeling that you have never had before. Staring at yourself in the mirror, it was as if you were slowly disappearing in front of your very own eyes. A hollowness crept up within you, a darkness that you have seen before. Felt before. Darkness that once had you lying in bed for weeks on end, covering any light that tried to pull you up. This darkness came with a friend, a darker friend that you could not recognize. 

A small knock at your door drew you out of your thoughts. Bucky leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, giving you a small smile. “How are you doing, kid?” His voice was softer than it usually was when he spoke to you. Almost cautious, as if he did not want to offend you or cross a boundary. You were still learning to trust him in certain areas. 

“Fine,” you let out a soft sigh as you continued to tie up your combat boots. Bucky watched as your fingers turned white from how tightly you were holding the laces, he knew your mind was not in the right place. Especially with recent events. He needed to speak up, say something, something positive. 

His mind wandered to what Steve would do in this situation. He missed Steve, wished he was there every day, helping him with you. Bucky always had a soft spot with you, ever since the day he met you at the airport. You followed Steve everywhere and as much as Steve opposed the idea of you fighting in the fight against Stark and his team, Steve knew you would not take no as an answer. You trusted him, mostly because he listened; he cared, he was there for you, he was the parent you never had and always wanted. Now Bucky has to gain that trust, so he could be what Steve was without replacing Steve. “About your mom,” Bucky began to say. 

“Drop it,” you snarled as you gave Bucky a small glare. He crossed the invisible line, but he was too worried about you to care. 

“Y/N, we have to talk about it,” he said softly.

“We don’t actually. You want to talk about it so you won’t feel as guilty about it, but I am perfectly fine not talking about it,” you stated as you got off your bed. You grabbed your gear from the bed, before walking towards Bucky. “So, please, just drop it,” you pleaded to him before walking out the room.

Bucky followed behind, “you’re wrong,” he stated as you both walked down the stairs into the common area. “I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to feel guilty about it anymore. I want to talk about it because I care about you and-” 

“Just stop! I said to fucking drop it, so please, just drop it!” You yelled, causing the others to look over at both of you. 

Sam let out a deep sigh, knowing what you were going through. He knew that having all these eyes on you while you were in a vulnerable position was not helping. He cleared his throat before speaking, “Alright, that’s enough.” He walked over to you and Barnes, his head turned slightly to the others, “Wanda, Peter, go ahead and wait for us on the quinjet. We’ll be there in a second.” 

You crossed your arms as you watched Wanda and Peter make their way over to the elevator. Sam’s eyes never leaving you, “You don’t have to-” 

“Save it, kid,” Sam said sternly. “Look, I need you both to be buddies again for a couple of hours, you can discuss whatever matters after the mission-” 

“Sam-” Bucky began, but Sam quickly cut him off. 

“But, right now is not the time.” Sam looked directly at Bucky. Bucky gave Sam a small nod, “I need both of your minds sharp for this mission, we can not afford any miscommunication because one person is mad at the other, am I clear?” you glanced over at Bucky, he gave Sam another nod. “I said, am I clear?” You knew Sam was directing it at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you replied. 

“Now, let’s go before Peter annoys the crap out of Wanda.” Sam walked towards the elevator, you and Bucky followed. 

Once you all got on the quinjet, you avoided the empty seat next to Bucky and sat next to Peter. Peter glanced over at you before letting out a small sigh, “Everything okay?” You gave him a small nod. “Usually you only sit next to me when you are mad at Bucky,” he stated. 

“Do you ever have a weird feeling that you are just going to disappear one day?” 

Peter chuckled, he has felt it before, “Well, when the blip happened, it was as if I felt it before it affected me.” 

You shook your head, “No, I mean-” you let out a deep breath. “Do you just get a strange feeling that something bad is going to happen… like it’s the end?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, I’m Spiderman,” He quietly said. “I sense danger all the time. Aunt May likes to call it my Peter Tingle,” he chuckled as he shook his head at his Aunt’s nicknames for his super-human abilities. You remained quiet, feeling as if Peter was not understanding at all what you were trying to say, but you could not help but wonder if Peter can sense your darkness if he could sense that something was wrong; maybe the danger that lingered ahead and if he did, is he choosing to ignore it? 

The ride only lasted a couple of hours. Sam landed the quinjet a couple of miles away from the building, far enough that those inside the building would not detect either of you. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sam began to say. “Peter and Wanda will be going through the back entrance of the building. I will be dropping Y/N off on the roof-” 

“I finally get to fly,” you joked, causing Peter to stifle a laugh. 

Sam rolled his eyes before continuing, “After I drop off Y/N, I will be meeting Bucky at the front entrance. We are making sure we got every entrance of this building covered, Y/N will be our eyes and make sure no one gets out or in without us knowing.” Sam looked at his team, there were times where he still could not believe he had a team. Where he could not believe that he had a shield with so much history, a shield that he believes now holds so much more meaning. 

“Aye-aye, Captain! C-Captain, sir? O-Or is Captain Sam better?” Peter rambled on as he nervously fidgeted with his fingers. Sam raised his eyebrows at the kid, even after being on so many missions with him, the kid is still a nervous wreck. “I-I’ll just shut up.”

Sam let out a chuckle. “Sam is just fine, Peter. We’ve been over this.” Peter nods, “Alright, go ahead and head on out, it’s going to take you guys a while to get there, in the meantime me and Y/N will keep watch and once you guys are in position we will head over.” You watched as the others began to make their way over to the building, Sam stood next to you. His eyes trailing around the wooded area, looking for foreign bodies. Sam was captain now. He could not let his team get injured because he was not paying attention, but his mind trailed back to you; he also could not let his team hurt inside, emotionally because he was not paying attention. Steve would have never done that, he would not let it slide. Steve talked through it, especially to you. He took you under his wing before the blip, before he time-traveled and stayed in the past. Before Bucky took you under his own wing. Sam felt like he could understand your pain in some way, getting left behind by almost everyone that felt like a parent. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened back at the tower?” Sam glanced over at you for a second before glancing back over at the wooded area. 

“Nothing to talk about,” you mumbled. Crossing your arms and leaning against one of the trees that was only inches away from you. 

“Nothing to talk about? Y/N, you’re going to have to talk about your mot-” 

“Not my mother,” you stated, glaring at Sam. Your eyes piercing into his, he got the hint. It is a touchy subject and as much as he hated it, you are not as close to him as you are with Bucky; but you were even pushing Bucky away. 

Sam let out a deep sigh, “Alright.” 

“We’re coming up to the building,” Bucky said through the comms.

“That was fast,” Sam commented. 

“You have a boy who got bitten by a spider, a witch, and a super-soldier in your team. A couple miles is nothing to them, they can do it with ease,” you stated. You backed off the tree and checked your gear once more. The sickening feeling coming back to the pit of your stomach.

“Ready?” Sam asked as he straightened his posture. You gave him a small nod and before you knew it Sam was holding onto your waist and you were up in the sky. You looked down as you both passed trees down below. A large lake came into your view, what looked like a thin layer of ice in certain areas. That water had to be cold. Icy cold. “Whoa!” Sam exclaimed as a gust of wind slightly pushing him back causing him to lose grip of your waist, you let out a small yelp before Sam quickly grabbed your hand. “Shit,” He mumbled, “hold on, we’re almost there.” 

You were barely hanging on to Sam’s hand. Giving the lake down below one more glance, you knew it would look like an accident. Everything would come to an end… the pain, the thoughts. All would end. You glanced back up at Sam, he was so focused on getting you to the roof of the building, he would not even notice your hand slowly slipping. He would not even notice if you just simply let go. Tears began to well up in your eyes, hoping it would not hurt. It felt like forever to make the decision, but it was only a second to act upon it. You let go. 

Sam did not know what hit him, one second you were there and the next he was watching you fall into the lake. Your eyes widen as your body grew smaller and smaller until he no longer could see you and all he saw was water. “Y/N,” He yelled as he finally realized what just happened. Sam’s hand went directly to his ear as he hovered above the lake, “Y/N fell into the lake, I-I don’t know what happened, she must have slipped,” Sam began to ramble on as his eyes frantically searched for any sign of you. 

“She can swim,” Bucky reassured Sam through the comms. Sam let out a relieved sigh. 

“She can also hold her breath underwater for a long time, it’s like this secret talent of hers,” Peter added. 

“Sam, I would say wait for her to resurface, but she can swim and we can’t waste anymore time out here. Y/N will have to meet up with us later. We need to get into that building,” Bucky informed him. Sam gave the lake one last glance, Bucky was right, they could not waste any more time on this mission. 

“I’m only a minute away,” Sam informed his team before making his way back up in the air towards the building. 

You began to see the light brighter as you struggled to swim to the surface. The iciness from the water was slowly stealing the heat from your body, making every movement ten times harder. You let out a gasp of air as you resurfaced, being met by only silence. Silence which was deafening, silence that could kill. You did not want silence because it only caused damage to your mind. Tears began to well up in your eyes, “Fuck” you muttered. Abandoned by almost every parent figure in your life and now you push away those who try to get an inch close to you. Your mother’s recent death, close to the death of Steve. Mourning over a man, who you never shared DNA with but still was more of a parent than your own mother. 

Bucky knew you needed to talk about it and you knew it too. Talking got nowhere, talking felt like a waste of time and right now it felt like time was up. You slowly stopped kicking your feet back and forth against the water, your hands stopped swirling in motion to keep you afloat. Slowly letting the water devour you, the air inside your lungs, being squeezed out of you. Death isn’t supposed to hurt like this or so you thought. It will all be over soon, you thought to yourself as the light from the sun slowly began to drift away and you were soon succumbed by the familiarness of the darkness that has been lingering inside you for days, but now it controlled you physically. 

~ 

“Fuck!” Sam yelled as he walked into the empty computer room. 

“We’re too late?” Peter asked in a confused manner. 

“They were somehow notified,” Wanda began to explain. “They had enough time to delete everything and leave no trace.” 

“How could I have let this happen?” Sam gritted through his teeth. He stared into the dark screen of the computer in front of him, withholding everything inside him from smashing it with his fist. 

“Sam, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault, okay? Right now we have to figure out who our mole is before we try to find them again,” Bucky reassured Sam, placing a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam let out a soft sigh before giving him a nod. 

Peter straightened up in his position, feeling the hairs on his arms lift up. “Have you guys come in contact with Y/N yet?” Peter asked. 

“No,” Sam said softly. “She’s probably waiting for us outside.” 

“Doesn’t sound like something Y/N would do,” Bucky stated. Sam rolled his eyes at Bucky. 

“Something’s wrong,” Peter quickly said. 

Wanda gave him a confused look, “Is it your Peter Tingle?” Earning a glare from Peter. 

“I jus- ugh” Peter groaned as he held his hand up to his comm, “Y/N, you there?” Silence was met through the other end. Peter gave the others a worried look, “These are water-proof right?” 

“100 percent,” Wanda commented. 

“Y/N, doll, answer us,” Bucky tried. 

“Something’s not right,” Peter stated. Bucky knew to trust Peter’s instincts, I mean, he sensed danger after all. Without giving it a second thought Bucky ran out of the building and towards the lake. 

“Peter, I’m gonna need you to talk to that Karen girl and ask her for Y/N’s exact location!” Sam instructed Peter as they all ran out of the building. Peter frantically spoke to his A.I. eventually getting a location, but Bucky was already in the water. 

Bucky swam up for air a couple of times before swimming back down, Peter attempted to give out the location to Bucky who frantically searched the water. But Bucky spotted something at the bottom of the lake. His eyes widened as you laid lifelessly at the bottom of the lake, he swam frantically towards you, thankful that the cold could not affect him the way it affected you. Once he had your body in his arms, he wasted no time bringing you to the shore of the lake. Bucky placed your body flat on the ground, his hands on your chest as he began to do compressions. 

“I thought you said she could swim!” Sam exclaimed as he bent down to your body. 

“She can,” Bucky muttered as he continued to do CPR. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you, hoping that any second you would let out a deep breath for air, spitting out water from your mouth and everything would be alright. But as he continued, his hope slowly slipped away from him. He shook his head to himself, he was not giving up, even if you had.

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[holidaywishes]

I Can’t Always Be Perfect

  Summary: Having a sibling with a mental disability isn’t easy and can often be taxing, especially when things start to pile up at home and at work. So when things fall apart when (Y/N) tries their best to make things as close to perfect as they can, she has a bit of a breakdown.

  Warning: angst, mild language, trigger warning for mention of anxiety and emotionally abusive parents

  Author’s Note: So, I’m going through something right now. I don’t really know why I chose Willy for this, to be honest, but I felt like he might be a good one to make you feel better after you’ve had a rough time with things. He seems like the type to be able to make you laugh when you need it. This was a fic that came about because of things that have been building up for a while now and I’m lucky enough to have a few close people in my life that I can talk about these things with but sometimes, you just don’t want to burden anyone with your shit, so I wanted to put some of my personal drama and angst into a short little fic. I also want everyone and anyone to know that if there is anything they need to talk about regarding mental illness, anxiety, stressful home situations, anything, I’m here to be an ear and a metaphorical shoulder to lean on. Always. Also, I tried to keep this non-gendered so I used they so it would feel more inclusive. I’ll try to do this more in the future or use (Y/P/P) for Your Preferred Preference as I know that, even though it’s a small thing, it’s important. I love you all and I hope you enjoy this thing I wrote. Stay golden <3

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  You considered yourself a good person. Not perfect, not even exceptional, just good. You took care of things at home when your parents were at work, you cleaned up after your brother when he made a mess out of the entire house. You tried to do the right thing and tried to give back when you could, especially to causes that hit close to home, but that didn’t mean you were exempt from sometimes missing the mark and sometimes it meant taking a lot more than you had the capacity to take.

  “(Y/N)!” your mom yelled from the kitchen and you ran to see what was wrong, “What is this?!” she asked, pointing to the mess on your carpet from your brother spilling his cereal on the carpet earlier in the day

  “Carter must have.. I forgot to clean it up, I’m sorry” you whimpered

  “I’m sick and tired of coming home to a dirty house!” she shouted

  “I’m sorry” you repeated

  “We’re at work all day, me and your father, the least you could do is make sure these things are done”

  “This is just one time..” you said before squeezing your eyes shut, knowing that the words probably wouldn’t sit right with your mom

  “ONE TIME IS ENOUGH!” she yelled, “You’re not working and you’re staying here, RENT FREE, so what the hell do you have going on that you can’t clean up a mess when it’s made?!”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” you tried, speaking softly to not upset your mom anymore than she already was, “I just meant that the house is usually clean and tidy and supper is usually made when everyone gets here. Today was... a mistake and I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say”

  “DO BETTER!” she continued, snapping at you as you quickly tried to clean up the mess under her feet, “and stop being such a god damn brat!”

  “HEY!” your dad shouted as he walked in the door, “what the fuck is going on?! I can hear you all from down the street!”

  “I didn’t clean up after Carter today”

  “And she’s been home all day, just moping around because she can’t find a job I’m sure”

  “She lost her job because of the pandemic, Susan,” your dad argued, “it’s different for us. We’re both on the front lines. We can’t lose our jobs”

  “I know!” she snapped, “and she should know how lucky she is that we’re letting her stay here without paying for anything”

  “Stop it” your dad said, trying to get your mom to calm down but it didn’t work

  “Don’t you start with me” she urged

  “Can I just vacuum this? And then I’ll make supper, okay?” you tried, wanting to get away from everything

  “Fine,” your mom yelled before stepping out of the room, “but that’s not the point! This should’ve been done before we got home!”

  “She’s trying to do it now!” your dad yelled back, “let her do it!”

  “YOU KNOW WHAT?!” your mom countered, grabbing the vacuum and pushing you aside, “I’LL DO IT MYSELF!”

  “SUSAN!” your dad yelled

  “MOM! STOP!” you shouted but she didn’t listen, tuning everyone out with the buzzing of the vacuum. You looked at your dad who only shrugged and you were forced to scoff at the reaction, walking away to your room because there was nothing more you could do, only to find your brother sitting on the couch listening to everything; you rolled your eyes at his complete lack of accountability and scoffed before shaking your head and walking to your room. Your hands were shaking and your body was buzzing, you didn’t know what to do. This had been a long time coming. The fighting, the arguing, the yelling. Everyone was stressed out and stretched thin and you were doing your best to keep yourself together so no one around you would feel like they had to take care of you on top of everything else but when a text came in, you couldn’t help but start to feel the stress build up in your chest

  “Hey!” William’s text read

  “Hey” you sent back, trying to be as casual as possible

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.. My mom’s just a little stressed out. Can I text you later?”

  “Of course but are you sure you’re alright? I can come over, help out?”

  “No!” you sent back quickly, noticing the ellipses pop up and you knew you had to back track, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to come over, I just need to sort somethings out and then I’ll text you, we’ll talk. Just... later okay?”

  “Okay.” You sighed as you pushed your phone to the side, dropping your head in your hands to rub your temples; it wasn’t long before your mom barged into your room

  “Why?” was the way she chose to start. No apology, no greeting, just straight into the same argument you had before, “why didn’t you clean it up as soon as you saw it?”

  “I thought he would do it himself” you admitted

  “You saw that he tried, you couldn’t have finished?”

  “He vacuums his mess all the time,” you argued, “I thought that he’d say something or realize... I don’t know, I guess I didn’t think”

  “You know his brain doesn’t work like ours” she said, glaring at you as she stood in the doorway

  “I know,” you sighed, “I just had some errands to run this afternoon and when I saw that he spilled something, I thought that he was embarrassed to tell me and he needed a minute before he could clean it up. So I did the dishes and left the room, forgetting about the mess. Then you came home and found it”

  “That’s not an excuse”

  “I’m not trying to make up an excuse, mom!” you yelled, just once, before you settled down and composed yourself, “I’m just trying to explain what happened.”

  “You know that your brother is different and that you need to do more to help him but you’re so concerned with yourself that you can’t manage to clean up one tiny mess!”

  “Concerned with my--” you scoffed, “I do take care of this place when you’re gone. There have been so many other messes that I’ve been forced to clean up that you have no idea about -- including the many times he’s missed the toilet and peed around the toilet -- so one day, one mess not being cleaned up, does not mean that I’m so concerned with myself. This isn’t a gigantic mess that he can’t clean up, he vacuums all the time so excuse me for thinking that he would have the ability to clean up some dry cereal on the carpet!”

  “He’s your brother!” she countered, “and he’s got mental delays so you have to be able to take care of him”

  “AND WHAT HAPPENS TO ME?!” you finally snapped, “I do my best to take care of him and you and dad and make sure no one is stressed out more than they already are but I’m not a caretaker. I’m not the older sibling. He’s 10 years older than me, Mom, and sometimes I need to be able to walk away and do things that don’t require me to act like his mother!” The tears began to fall down your heated cheeks and you looked at your moms face which only seemed to shift slightly at your words, “I’m sorry that I didn’t spend every second of my day today cleaning every inch of the house to make it look that no one lives here. I’m sorry that I took a little bit of time for myself. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

  “You just have to do better” she said quietly and you shook your head, trying to hold back your tears

  “I can’t always be perfect. I can’t always do everything. I missed something today and I’m sorry that it screwed up your day. But I shouldn’t be expected to do everything!” You finally got up, grabbing your phone, and pushed passed your mom so you could escape everything

  “Don’t you dare walk away right now” she growled and you pulled your arm from her grasp, making your way to the door before finally meeting your dads stare

  “Don’t leave, (Y/N),” he pleaded, “talk to us. Talk to me.” Part of you wanted to say something, to make him feel better, but you didn’t want him to see you cry anymore than you already were, so you ignored his attempt to make you stay; grabbing your keys and jumping in the car.

xx

Willy’s P.O.V

  “Can we meet somewhere?” (Y/N) finally texted you after nearly two hours and you were quick to suggest the rink. When you got there, you found (Y/N) huddled up, head against their knees as they waited for you

  “(Y/N)?” you whispered, seeing the tears on their face when they raised their head

  “Hi...” they replied

  “What’s wrong?” you asked, rushing to their side

  “I’m just feeling like I can’t do anything right today. Like, I’m supposed to never make mistakes and I failed today”

  “Everyone makes mistakes...”

  “You don’t...” they scoffed

  “Have you kept up with my career at all?” you teased

  “Sure but,” (Y/N) faltered, “I don’t know, Willy, I just hate having this pressure on me to be perfect. Feeling like I have to be a parent to my older sibling. I know that he’s gone through a lot and that his life is hard and that it will always be harder than mine. I know that and I try, I try so hard to make his life easier and my parents lives easier. But I have given up so many opportunities to make that possible. I deferred University for two years because my parents needed me to stay home. I didn’t apply to NYU because it was too far away. I didn’t take that amazing job at Massey Hall because the hours were too flexible. I gave up my personal life, my romantic life because it was too hard to make time for my brother with all of it. I sacrificed both my High School Graduation and my University Graduation so he could feel included. I got offered an internship in London that I had to pass on because it was too far away and my family needed me here. I love him, he’s my brother and I would die before I let anything happen to him but I just get exhausted sometimes, always having to worry about him and take care of him and make things easy for everyone but me. Then, I feel bad for getting exhausted and I overcompensate and exhaust myself even further.”

  “You’re burnt out”

  “Yeah,” they sighed, “I don’t wanna be. But I can’t ask for help or get my parents to understand why, if I don’t have a job, I am so burnt out”

  “Want me to tell ‘em?” you joked

  “No.” You noticed their eyes begin to tear and you tried to be there for them as best you could, letting them rest their head on your shoulder, rubbing their hand softly, “I just... I don’t know what to do anymore. Some days everything is fine and then other days, the smallest thing sets my mom off and I feel like she hates me and that she doesn’t think I do anything or that I haven’t given up anything. Like I should always be doing more...”

  “I want to make you feel better,” you finally said, “tell me what I can do.” You waited in silence for a minute so (Y/N) could get their composure

  “This.” (Y/N) said softly, “Just be here, with me. All this stuff, it’s my problem and I have to learn how to solve it. But you being here with me right now, letting me lean on you, helps.”

  “So I have strong shoulders?” you joked and they laughed, “Is this me being your superhero?”

  “Can you not?” they said, smacking your arm before looking up at you with a smile

  “I’ll always be here to save the day” you smiled

  “Yeah, you will won’t you?” they smiled back and you kissed their forehead, staying still in the cold ice rink until both of you were ready to leave.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Do you think they would actually enjoy the modern world? Or would they want to stay in their current time period?

Hm, well, I think that may vary depending on each suitor if I’m honest! (I’ll be excluding Sebastian from this one, only because he is a modern man and I wager he would want to stay in the mansion in order to finish his thesis) 

Under a cut bc it’s a long boi:

I think for people like Arthur and Theo, for instance--who always seem to live in the fast lane--it might not really prove much of a problem. They would continue enjoying the night life and move with their busy schedules. Tl;dr: (For them? Same shit, different day)

Vincent would likely be doing just fine given how Theo often provides assistance in places where he struggles; to promote his art, to spark intrigue in the general public and benefactors. He might be a little overwhelmed by the influx of stimuli that comes with the modern era, constant noise and interaction and movement--perhaps worry that people are losing their ability to live in the moment. (Not to mention what’s being done to the environment...) There might be a learning curve/adjustment, but I think Theo would help him ease in. Plus, it would be a little easier to promote his art given the less stringent restrictions on public exhibitions. He’d still have to work for his fame, but at least the van Goghs wouldn’t have to live in constant unease in the proximity of the cutthroat academy.  Tl;dr: (Mixed feelings, but tries to stay positive about modern times)

Dazai is more familiar with this kind of life of quick turmoil and breakneck speed, if anything he falls back into his old coping mechanisms--hello writing, drinking, and smoking. An overwhelming influx of information and suffering would probably be hard for him to manage, despite how expertly he hides it. I think I would be worried he would lose himself in the dismal reality of diminished connection with other people. Yes I’m shoving him into therapy, I want him to start living for himself and taking care of himself ffs

That isn’t to say there aren’t happy possibilities for him, just that I think he really needs to heal first. I could see him very happy in a kind of writer’s circle with people he loves and trusts; less expending his energy in a desperate attempt to fill the void and please others, more cultivating his own happiness... Tl;dr: (Positive potential, but honestly part of me thinks the past quieter/simple/rural life suits him better...he still loves meme culture tho, he finds it so expansive and creative)

Isaac is in a similar boat as Dazai, I think! He has wonderful potential as a mentor and professor, and living in a world that has a little more patience and respect for genius might help encourage him to put himself out there. That being said, I think the pace of life would exhaust him though--he is very much the kind of person that prefers to keep to himself and just puzzle and tinker. Baby boy just wants to do equations, build little inventions, and read up on the recent discoveries in astrophysics (BRUH WHEN THE IMAGE OF THE BLACK HOLE CAME OUT HE FORGOT HOW TO B R E A T H E) Napoleon is the only reason he eats anything healthy or on any kind of regular schedule s m h. Tl;dr: (Not a lot changes, honestly? He was reclusive then, he still is now--he just has more toys/academic resources. If anything he might get a little too lost in his work because of it, somebody please make sure he’s eating/sleeping/socializing;;;)

Poor Jeanne is SUFFERING. Please release him from this nightmare he is begging. Jk jk, I don’t think it would be too bad for him--but I do think that he would have the aforementioned problem of too many stimuli and too much interaction. I think he would ease into it a little with Mozart’s help; he would just be awkward and wooden until he got the hang of it. Most people just find him quirky in an amusing way, and don’t think too hard about it. I’d wager he’d probably become literate at this point because of the abundance of resources and necessity to read/write (okay but imagine this baby with a little kid workbook iM GONNA CRY!!! TAKE ALL MY CRAYONS JEANNE). 

Can you imagine this mofo at a Starbucks??? Tall and stoic, dark and debonair (EVERYONE IS S W O O N I N G), and he just asks in a light tenor “can I have a mocha with eight shots of expresso” with a completely straight face. “Sir, that could kill you” “Don’t worry, I’ve been dead a long time” And he just moves to wait for his order. 11/10 cryptid I could watch an entire show just about his daily adventures

He works with Napoleon a lot given their similar skillsets. They coach kids at high schools that have fencing teams (it’s really REALLY cute bc if they’re on the younger side, Jeanne will very dramatically lose bc he wants to encourage them and the kids are delighted--but the parents are INCHES from laughing so hard they’re in tears). Otherwise, he mostly takes up gigs as a security worker/bodyguard, only really works for the money. He prefers to spend his time in ways that feel meaningful if he can, so don’t be surprised if you see him in foster homes and in social working spaces. He has an uncanny understanding about him, a kind of silence/patience that doesn’t stifle; it makes the kids/teens calm down in milliseconds. They really listen when he does talk, and he sets good and clear boundaries--he knows how to be firm when it’s required. He gives them the structure and placid grounding they’ve never had, and really pays attention to what’s important to them. Brings them little things he notices; brings flowers to the one that likes to draw, brings CDs (he is bad with technology, but they usually only have access to older/outdated stuff anyway) to the one the one that struggles to write with white noise in the house, brings little plushies to the ones that lose theirs. He’s simple but solid, and he finds a lot of meaning in helping kids overcome the similar kind of struggles he faced.  Tl;dr: (Steep learning curve, but he just sees it as all the same really--just more work to be done with the literacy requirement and adjustment to technology. Will be resistant at first, but when he gets accustomed and starts finding people who are important to him, he wouldn’t want to change anything/go back. But will admit there are some days he just wants to go to the most remote place he can access and just live there for a month with no human interaction whatsoever; people are inefficient and insufferable sometimes)

Mozart’s life honestly doesn’t change much? I feel like he would easily be able to keep composing and continue releasing his work as per usual. Given his quick capacity to schmooze and say what people want to hear when he must, he’d be more than able to network his way into success. I think the only thing he might struggle with now and again is inspiration, given the world operates on a very surface level in the modern era sometimes. Profound insight and depth are not quite as cultivated in many ways, and he can struggle to find something that just sparks motivation/novelty in his mind, makes him start composing at breakneck speed. He reads a lot and watches some TV shows/movies when he’s at really low inspiration levels, the kind of guy that sneers at Game of Thrones--but finds things like BBC’s Sherlock more passable (wants intrigue and complexity, doesn’t much enjoy the sensationalized drivel). When Arthur finds out he loves ATLA he about falls off his seat. “It’s a children’s show.” “Yes it is, with a remarkable level of depth and craftsmanship, what are you trying to say?” He begins to find a kind of rhythm in his composing, and Jeanne and Dazai often drop by with so many crazy stories he finds himself filled with music anyway LMAO Tl;dr: (Same as Isaac, really just keeps doing his thing without being impeded, and he enjoys the luxuries/conveniences of the modern era. Will be slightly resistant at first because of how alien some of the changes are, but will fall into the habits/customs slowly and surely. Fine with it, will whine a bit at the growing pains tho)

Leonardo actually canonically owns a bar, and does that really surprise anyone? He really enjoys the excitement of meeting new people and hearing about their myriad histories, the influx of cultures/languages/experiences. It’s a nice but lowkey place, people stop for a drink, listen to some good music--chat amiably and relax after a long day’s work--before heading out. There are regulars and people that just stop for that single day; tourists, vacationers, so on and so forth.

When asked, many people note a sleek black cat with sharp eyes that led them to the bar... Tl;dr: (Don’t Let the Existential Dread Set-in: The Prequel, adapts well to the modern era because of centuries of experience but also...he’s so tired...somebody please hold him I can’t watch him live like this, lord jesus)

Optimally, I see Comte filling his time with myriad pursuits; ranging from philanthropy, indulging in art/music/theatre (often a benefactor as well), and keeping track of his chirren (they may exist more independently now, but he still worries about them ;-;). Otherwise nothing much changes for him, still goes to galas and fancy gatherings, still enjoys fashion and spoiling people, still seeks to occupy himself with social interaction and care-taking--if he doesn’t have a family of his own. He’s basically just that meme that’s like DON’T LET THE EXISTENTIAL DREAD SET-IN. DON’T LET IT SET-IN!!!!!!!!! Tl;dr: (Not to repeat myself but also Don’t Let the Existential Dread Set-in: The Sequel, literally just desperately trying to fill the void please somebody help him he also just needs to be held fuck’s sake, I’m going to drag him kicking and screaming into happiness--but otherwise has no great trouble adjusting to the modern era. I feel like he would have a more minor form of what Dazai struggles with, maybe a lack of personable connection that he once had; fewer chances to be himself and relax. Also probably worried about the increasing unhappiness and turmoil building in the world in general...)

Napoleon is similar to Comte in that he often checks up on Isaac and Jeanne from time to time, and does the aforementioned fencing lessons with kids. He also takes a lot of basic security positions--for venues, concerts, museums--you name it. He dislikes the idea of sitting behind a desk a lot, so he prefers to do a lot of different things; he even cooks from time to time at the restaurants  that know him very well. One gig he particularly enjoys is battle choreography for movies/theatre! He tends to stay away from anything too historically close to his era of origin, but he has fun coming up with realistic (smaller scale) hand-to-hand combat scenarios and duels. Tl;dr: (This era doesn’t feel like too much of a change. It’s a little more intensive in terms of pace, but he manages to keep up pretty well, it just exhausts him from time to time--and he usually goes on trips or hikes to unwind when he needs to like Jeanne LOL they do not go to their happy place, they go to their high lonesome place).

Shakespeare also continues to do his drama thing, organizes troupes on tons of different levels--from community level to more intense, skilled groups that re-enact his own work. His life doesn’t change all that much beyond a new form of theatre logistics, and he adjusts to the technology fairly easily out of necessity. He’ll stop by Vincent’s place from time to time to show him recordings of his latest shows, but otherwise is almost always on the move. Tl;dr: (So long as he can keep following his greatest passion, he doesn’t really mind the changes in how theatre happens--he doesn’t have any sizable issues with the modern era.)

Ability with technology (phones mostly):

Arthur: more than capable, well-versed, loves to do everything on his phone no prob--maybe lives a little too much on his phone (Vine/TikTok/Youtube can kill his productivity RIP) also yes he has a fidget spinner on his desk, no I will not be taking any constructive criticism at this time

Theo: yes but with a lot of cursing at first, had to do it for work and now looks down on anyone that can’t keep up with him (except for Vincent)

Vincent: knows the basics, taking and sending pictures, writing things in notes for later, texting (tho sending emails is a little harder for him); he does his best but he can be slow. Really really enjoys the paint programs on his iPad for when he’s on public transit, but he starts setting alarms after he gets the hang of it (he’s missed his stops before because of it LMAO)

Leonardo: what kind of stupid question? Man knows how to pick them apart and put ‘em back together for crying out loud, uses it like a pro--comes to him naturally, and he’s the guy that keeps coming up with ways to jailbreak Apple products and thwart their money-grubbing tactics. Catch him playing Minish Cap on his emulator on the way to work, brah

Comte: just vibing, keeps up with the times easily since he’s been doing it for so long, much like Theo uses it to keep in touch with the people around him--he’s the “prefers to call instead of text” sorta guy though, he worries about losing emotional subtleties and he likes to hear people’s voices. Doesn’t do anything special on phones, more just a tool; will read/listen to podcasts/does have emulators (courtesy of Leo) and enjoys playing Pokemon when he’s bored

Jeanne: types one finger at a time, it will take a while--but he’ll get there (deleted all his contacts by accident once and Mozart was just. HOW.) He barely knows how to use a phone, and it’s a steep learning curve for him

Mozart: purely functional when it comes to his phone, refuses to rely on it beyond the necessities that only tech can do (for instance, sending emails or reading articles or uploading compositions) he still writes his music before making more polished digital copies. He will sometimes listen to pieces digitally, but prefers to play them in-person; he feels that a lot of the soul in a piece is lost despite the convenience

Dazai: you absolute fools. you baboons. why would you ever give him this kind of power. it is 3AM and he has been on a wikipedia trail spanning hours, started with Cleopatra being the seventh in her line with that name all the way to cotton candy being called “daddy’s beard” in French. please help him he hasn’t slept in years. Also probably binges anime and manga lbr. He’s the one making vine references every other second, always up to date on the memes^TM

Isaac: also mostly uses it as a tool for research and calculations; it’s a way to keep track of information. He also likes to play background music while he’s working, so he finds the device nice and convenient--plus less having to go around pestering people in-person. he does start to get interested in coding and tinkering with apps/programs eventually, too

Shakespeare: finds it a delightful little contraption, so useful because it lets him jot down ideas as they come to him quickly, and he can edit his texts much more easily with digital interfaces. also likes that performances can be recorded, because now he can analyze his staging more efficiently--it gives him a good sense of what needs to be adjusted, and encourages him to keep streamlining/try new concepts

Napoleon: likes it because he can keep in touch with people more easily, the kind of guy to drop a line before checking on a friend. he really likes to look up recipes and find out more about cooking techniques he’s never encountered before. Isaac starts making an Instagram account just to show Napoleon’s impeccable plating, and Napo gets quite the following without knowing for a while

[hobihobihoe]

Unruly - Part one

Obey me! + Mafia BTS + 0T7 au x reader                                                                

2.5k ish 

Warnings : 18+ slowwww burn ~ eventual smut ~ descriptions of blood and violence ~ cliche city ~ alsooo uhh if you care about grammar this is not 4 U cause imma dumb bitch <3

Andd ahh this is the first thing i’ve ever written so its probably kinda shit.. :)

Great. Just great. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah because you’re a good person, or at least you’re trying to be. You’d just agreed to cover Rosies shift, apparently she was sick, but what you hadn't taken into account when you’d agreed to work was that Rosie had been booked to a private venue, well I guess now you had been booked to a private venue. You hated working private venues, as a bartender people would sometimes assume you provided the drinks or that because you weren't working at your company bar you would join in with shots or maybe give them a discount as you were a lone ranger incharge of yourself and providing alcohol for the night. One thing a private venue did mean though was money, getting paid nearly twice the amount you usually did as well as hopefully generous tips from wealthy clients. But still you weren’t quite sure three times the work was worth only double the pay, but well… fuck it you’ve gotta be a good friend/colleague and well person to Rosie so you just have to suck it up.

Thankfully it was a Saturday night so you didn't have to work it after being at university all day. So you bid farewell to the library you had been pretending to study at and headed home to get changed into something more presentable because a hoodie three times your size and leggings covered in dorito dust probably wouldn't fly at this kind of event.

As you opened the door you heard the crocky meows of your little baby, Zuki. He was an all black rescue cat that you'd adopted two years ago, when you’d started university, as a companion and partly because as soon as you saw his cute little face you were screwed and had to bring him home. You bent down to stroke his head and scratch behind his ear just the way he likes, which results in him vibrating with loud purrs that soften your heart. “Okay baby I love you but I gotta go get ready” Zuki looks at you with annoyance now that you've cut his pampering session short, he's such a spoiled little brat you think to yourself, but as he follows you into your bedroom with his tail high in the air and a slight sway in his steps you can't bring yourself to care. He is just too damn cute.

Now donned in your crisp white shirt and black dress pants you tame your hair enough so that it resembles a neatish bun, you say goodbye to your fur baby and head off to your car on your way to hopefully a nice paycheque.

When you arrive you're greeted by Jae. He leads you to the bar and tells you to ask him if there's anything you need. Okay so far so good, you've just gotta make yourself familiar with any specialised drinks on the menu and the rest should be smooth sailing. About 10 minutes after you arrive a large group of men appear, they sit down on two separate sides of the long table that takes up most of the room, they then send two men from each group respectively your way. Game time you think, the man that reaches the bar first is sweating noticeably, his black hair sticking to the front of his forehead matting the hair that it encompases. “sweetheart get me 6 doubles of gentleman jack over ice and 2 dry martinis”, you smile at him, so thankful that you wouldn't have to make any cocktails. They were time consuming and required a lot of faf essentially and a lot of cleaning up, “of course sir” you say as you smile at him, he barely acknowledges you as he goes to sit at one of the stools that lined the bar. As you get to making his drinks you hear the clearing of someone's throat, you look up and realise it was the other man that you had been coming over. You nearly choke on your spit at the sight of him. His pastel pink hair is delicately framing his cherub-like face, “Miss?”, oh shit you’d zoned out, “Oh i'm so sorry I missed what you said completely '' you admitted shly, he just gave a cute little chuckle. “ Its okay angel” you started to blush at the use of such an affectionate nickname “I asked if I could have 6 manhattans and a sex on the beach” great fucking coacktails you signed internaly, “Of course sir” that earned a smirk from him, you were just being professional, shit professional you had to remind yourself to focus on making the drinks as your traitorous eyes kept lingering in the area surrounding him.

As you finish preparing each individual drink you place them on the bar so the men can take them to booths. Just as you were setting down the final cocktail you brush fingers with the pink haired man, “oh... um” you say prepared to give him an apology but as you look up and meet his eyes you seem to lose your ability to form any kind of cohesive sentence “Jimin, angel, my names Jimin” he states  “oh uh, Jimin I hope you enjoy your drinks'' you feel like a pathetic teenager again unable to talk to the pretty boy at the party. “I'm sure I will angel” he throws over his shoulder as he walks back to the group of men he’d emerged from, what was it with him saying that nickname that just made you giddy. God I really need to get out more you thought, maybe you could go out tomorrow as you wouldn't be working since you covered rosies shift, maybe then you could get some real action and should hopefully suasiate you for a bit. Ugh it's like Jimin had awoken something within you, which usually you’d be interested to explore, but considering that you were at work you were gonna just have to put his beautiful face to the back of your mind for when you got home later and could relax properly. Zesh should you feel creepy? No its not your fault that what was practically sex on legs was going about all unobtainable, thats what your imagination and your trusty vibrator were for anyway.

An hour later and you've made exactly three more drinks, wow, maybe if you stare at the champagne flute for another 10 minutes you'll unlock its secrets and it will be more interesting. Just as you were debating wiping down the bar for the hundredth time you hear chairs being pulled out and moved loudly. You look up to see that both groups of men which were previously amicably sat at the table now have guns aimed at each other. You freeze. You haven't ever seen a gun in person before and there must be well over ten now all presumably aimed and ready to fire. You dunk under the bar as you hear yelling start. You weren't able to focus on what was being said by the men, too busy trying to focus on controlling your breathing. Fuck. that sounded like a gun shot. And then another. You've lost track of how many shots you've heard, lots is the amount you settle on, maybe if you just stay behind the bar and stay quiet they'll forget you’re there and leave you alone. There is a long silence in the room, you try your best to mimic it when you notice the movement in one of the wine glasses that are stacked up behind the bar. Someone pushes the staff entrance to the bar open and strides towards you, gun in his right hand. You start to push yourself backward but are soon met with the edge of the bar, the man is dressed in all red and if it weren't for the specks of blood covering his face you would consider him unbelievably attractive. You seem to have been consumed by these thoughts because you suddenly come back into your physical reality, met with a gun now pointed only inches away from your face. You search his eyes for any kind of mercy or empathy you could try to appeal to, what shocks you is you only see a smoldering fire. You see his finger move on the trigger and close your eyes, you don't want the last thing you see to be a stranger. Just as you were going to try to think of pleasant things and the ones you cheriouish you hear a voice. “Hobi stop” Jimin said rather nonchalantly given your current situation, “Chim just let me tie up this loose end then we can get going” the other man, you guess Hobi? Sneered. Wow he just thought of killing you as an inconvenience, what a dick. “Hobi I think we could use her for something else” “what?” Hobi questioned sternly “well even Yoongi mentioned how good his drink was and we always have to get a new bartender every meeting and it would be easier if we had one who knew who we were so when this kind of shit happens again we haven't got any loose ends” Jimin points out. Hobi seems to consider this for a minute before he moves away in a different direction to Jimin, you try to follow his eye line but because of your placement on the floor you can’t see over the bar. “Joon, obviously the call is yours to make” Hobi announces. “It does seem to be a practical suggestion and Jimin must have taken a liking to her if he stopped you, so I don't see why not” the ominous voice declared. After a second of those words sinking in you realise that they have just decided to take you with them, to take you captive.

You start to shake, turning your head to meet Jimin's eye “no uh..um.no please don't take me” you sniffle “I promise I never saw anything, I won't say anything p-please just let me go home” you can barley make out your own words as they are effectively smothered by your tears and your small gasps for breath as you aren't able to regulate your breathing. Jimin elegantly slides over the bar and bends down to your height “Angel don't be so silly, you're coming with us. You should really be thanking me” he gives you a small wink. That causes a fresh wave of panic to settle over you, you know there's a fire exit further down in the bar hidden within the sinks and stock area, with the spike of adrenaline you start to run towards the exit. It looks like it's going well until you hear a loud bang, then the feeling of the side of your head being hit registers, lastly you notice your eyesight unfocusing before darkness seems to override and then suddenly, nothing.

~JIMINS POV~

“Yoongi was that really necessary?” Jimin akses with a slight frown on his face. The older man shrugs “someone had to do something” Jimin sighs and looks at Jungkook, “it will be easier if you carry her.”

~YOUR POV~

When you open your eyes again you see white, adjusting slightly, you realise your laying on a bed. You sit up and look around the room. There are 5 other beds that you can see, they are all small single beds with a chest at the end of each. You look over your surroundings for a few minutes before you remember the circumstances leading up to you being here. You touch the back of your head and wince when your fingers meet a small swollen bump. You decided you should probably try and leave, poor Zuki is probably waiting for you to fill his food bowl. Wow, you realise in this situation you think of your cat's mortality more than your own, well you guess that's what your life has amounted to. Just as you stand up the door opens. “Oh you're awake now” You look over to see the small older woman who was speaking “Umm.. where am i?” The lady gives you a small smile “You're in the maids room sweetie.” Great that's cleared up nothing, you think bitterly. “Can I talk to whoever's in charge? Please?” You think this is probably your best bet, explain to them that you just want to go hope and hopefully they'll be humane enough to agree with that. “Yes, he wanted me to come and get you anyway” She states as she turns around walking away from the doorway, you start to follow her. As you continue walking through the hallways and up the stairs of this seemingly huge mansion you notice several men standing guard with guns rested in their hands, ready at all times. You start to wonder if maybe your idea is ridiculous as you realise wherever you are and whatever you have gotten yourself involved in may be larger than the small group of men you'd seen at the bar. Your worrying is cut short as the women raises her hand and knocks at a door you have stopped outside off, a short “Come in” is what is answered from the other side of the door, the older women looks to you, “You should go in alone, i'll be waiting for you here” You look at her and then to the door “Uh... thank you?” You’re not really sure what the appropriate response is in this situation but you don't want to be rude, she gives you a short nod and smile.

Once you open the door you're faced with one of the men you'd seen before. He regards you with a very slight smile before he gestures to a chair placed in front of the desk he is sitting behind, you walk over to sit at the chair before you look at him directly. You aren't sure if the bang to the head you had received had caused temporary delusions, but as you look at him you swear you see light radiating out of him. You meet his eyes for a second before you decide they are too intimidating and look away, “You wanted to see me?” you ask meekly, deciding to for now abandon your plea for freedom. “Yes, I did, i'm not sure if you remember why we brought you here so i’ll just go over your role again” he starts “You’re going to be working as our personal bartender, this means you will joins us on outings that we deem appropriate and also make our drinks whilst we are here, at the base” he then moves his face into your eye line so that he can make eye contact “And in return of your services we’ll let you live” he finishes his small speech with a slight smile, as if he had just offered you a job and you weren't being threatened and held captive in this place. You take a few minutes to think over what he had just said, you come to the conclusion that for now faking compliance is probably the safest thing you can do until you are able to find a window to escape. “Who do you mean when you say we?” you enquire, you weren't sure if you should be questioning the leader of this organisation?, but your curiosity had won over any of the other responses you considered.

[aizawaskittenwhore]

  𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

all rights reserved ©️aizawaskittenwhore. do not copy, repost, or modify.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought. 

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising. 

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke.  “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits. 

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit. 

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his. 

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids. 

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout. 

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line. 

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass. 

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body. 

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand. 

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them. 

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.” 

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body. 

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead. 

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister. 

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

[raiseyourcups]

Cabur

Chapter One 

Pairings: Din Djarin x Original Character (eventually, maybe) Warnings: None for this chapter Word count: 2.3k Tags: Threatening remarks, very vague mention of sexual remarks  Also on A03 Masterlist

The Mandalorian sat silently as he waited for Greef Karga to pull out the pucks they both knew he had. The silence surrounding them was somehow deafening even with the rest of the cantina bustling. Karga let out an annoyed huff as he placed several pucks onto the table. “I don’t have anything interesting, just bail jumpers and a...trafficker.” 

“I’ll take them all.” The Mandalorian didn’t care to question what made Karga worried about giving him a puck for a trafficker. A bounty was a bounty. He reached forward to pull the pucks towards him when a hand slammed down onto one of the pucks before the Mandalorian could even touch it. His hand immediately went to his blaster, ready to shoot the person that was trying to take his bounties. 

“Traffickers and slavers are mine, Karga and you know that.” A feminine voice spoke from beside the Mandalorian causing him to tense up. He didn’t know how someone had managed to sneak up on him and he didn’t like it. Karga winced, his gaze on the table, before he looked back up. He hadn’t heard the cantina door open or else he would have made sure it wasn’t her that walked in. 

“Aili! I didn’t think you would be back so soon otherwise I would have saved it for you,” Karga plastered a smile on his face as he looked up at Aili. Both the Mandalorian and Aili could see how forced it was and both were annoyed by it. The only difference was that only one of them was visibly showing it. 

“Cut the shit, Karga. You just didn’t want to say no to your golden boy here,” Aili all but growled out as she nodded her head in the Mandalorian’s direction. Her hand involuntarily gripped the puck tighter in her rising anger.

“The puck is mine. Move your hand." The Mandalorian took the chance to glance over the person trying to take one of his pucks. She wasn't someone who looked like they would be a bounty hunter. She looked too...he hated to use the word delicate but he would be surprised if she even had any scars to prove her abilities. She was a lot shorter than him, standing almost as tall as him as he sat. His eyes narrowed when he saw the blood red cuirass underneath her cloak. That looked like...

Aili glared down at the Mandalorian, “We can take this outside and fight for it but just so you know, I’ll kick your ass and the puck will be mine anyway. So save both of us the time and trouble.”

He let out a scoff that was mostly hidden by his voice modulator. At the sound Aili raised an eyebrow but made no move towards her own blaster, a mistake that he would take advantage of if they did end up fighting over the puck. “Mando, I would take her offer to walk away. She took down three of my guys for looking at her the wrong way,” Karga said. He really didn’t want to clean up any more messes and he didn’t want to run the risk of losing either of his best hunters. The others in the Guild couldn’t catch nearly as many bounties as the two before him. 

“I took them down for what they were saying about their female bounties." Aili didn't elaborate nor would she have if either of them asked. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant.  The Mandalorian couldn’t find it in himself to fault her for that, he probably would have done the same thing if he had been there. Taking advantage of the fact that the Mandalorian was distracted, Aili picked up the puck and turned to leave the cantina. "I'll be back in a few days, try not to give away any more of my pucks."

Aili left the cantina before either Karga or the Mandalorian could say anything to her. She still had to gather supplies before she left the planet and another errand that needed to be done as well. Haggling with the different vendors took less time than usual but Aili wasn’t about to complain. The less time she wasted doing that, the sooner she could get out of there. 

She was getting ready to walk to her next stop when she saw the Mandalorian leave the cantina. With a muttered curse she turned on her heel to speak to a random vendor and subtly watched as he walked in the direction she had been planning to go. He paused by a curtain, glancing around the market to see if anyone was watching. His gaze seemed to linger on Aili longer than it did on anyone else and she tried to appear nonchalant as she bartered with the vendor. It looked like she was going to have to wait for him to leave now. She paid for whatever she had grabbed and made her way to her ship. He would probably be down there for a few hours which gave her plenty of time to put away her supplies and make it to where she usually hid before he came out. 

Aili stood in the shadows waiting for the Mandalorian to come out of the entrance. She was almost glad that her training had made the hours pass by easily. Almost. She still hated the training she had gone through with a burning passion. A quiet shuffle brought her out of her memories and she pressed herself further into the wall behind her, just in case. The Mandalorian walked past her hiding spot without stopping but she still waited a few minutes before she moved. 

She didn’t go in the same way he had, that entrance always had a guard stationed at the bottom of the stairs. She went around the building, glancing around to make sure no one had followed her before she jumped down the storm drain. Her feet hit the ground as soft as they could but Aili still paused for a second to see if anyone had heard her. She continued on her way quickly.

The path she followed was familiar to her now and she knew when to hide behind something to stay undetected. There weren’t that many Mandalorians on patrol at the moment but that didn’t mean she let her guard down. She had been told that she didn’t need to sneak around but it was a habit now and it was better this way. So long as there was an unknown price on her head, she wouldn’t let anyone know about the location of the Mandalorian covert. She could hear the sounds of fighting and knew the children were probably getting trained. The lack of guards on patrol made more sense now. Training took precedence over patrol every time. 

If the Armorer was surprised to see her, she didn’t make it obvious. She simply tilted her head in greeting and waited for Aili to take her usual seat before taking her own seat. “I did not expect to see you so soon, your ade are still in training.”

Aili held back a sigh knowing that it was useless to argue with the Armorer’s choice of words. She took out her extra pouch of credits, sliding it towards the other woman. The Armorer made no move to take the bag, waiting for Aili to speak.

“I had a few easy bounties, paid more than enough to have extra for the other foundlings.” Aili knew the Armorer would use most of the credits for her supposed ade but she had made sure to add more credits than usual. She didn’t know exactly how many foundlings were in the covert but she knew it couldn’t be easy to keep them all fed with only a single bounty hunter in their tribe. They were part of the same Guild and she knew that pickings were getting slimmer with every solar cycle. She stayed seated for a few more moments before standing, giving the Armorer one more nod and then she turned on her heel to go. 

She probably should have been paying attention to the quiet that had taken over the covert. Training was finished and the foundlings would be playing around now. But she had let her guard down knowing that she was safe down in the sewers.

“Ori’vod!” Several familiar voices called out. Aili spun around just in time to catch Jaesa who jumped into her arms. Shaeli was the next to wrap her arms around her waist followed by Sula. Madsin was kind enough to settle for standing in front of them, a small smile on her face. Aili let Jaesa stay in her arms for a few more seconds before placing her back onto the ground. 

“We should head to our room before the others come out,” Madsin said knowing that Aili didn’t want others to know that someone not part of their covert knew their location. Some of them were very traditional which could lead to trouble. The five of them hurried to the room that the four girls shared. Shaeli and Jaesa jumped onto their bed, large smiles on their faces as they bounced in excitement. It had been a while since Aili had been able to come down to visit them, bounties keeping her off planet more often. Once the curtain that acted as their door was tied shut Aili took the chance to look the four girls over. 

Madsin had turned 16 a few months ago and she already towered over all of them at 5’8” but she usually didn’t mention it. At some point after Aili’s last visit she had cut her hair short, the dark brown waves brushing against the top of her shoulders. Sula had shot up too, almost as tall as AIli now but still a few inches shorter. She was still letting her blonde hair grow, it was now past her shoulders but someone had given her bangs that she had pinned to the side. Shaeli’s dark, almost black, hair was the longest and pulled into two long braids that hung over her shoulders. Jaesa’s light brown hair was the curliest and always hard to tame but someone, probably Sula, had pinned it out of her face.

“Do you wanna see what we practiced today?” Shaeli asked, bouncing even more in excitement. Her and Jaesa had finally been allowed to join the training. Before they had only been given verbal instructions even though they had already learned some things in their old home. 

“Be careful,” Aili said before gesturing for the two youngest to go ahead and show her what they had learned that day. Madsin and Sula climbed onto their beds so they were out of the way. Aili watched as Shaeli and Jaesa showed off the moves they had learned in training that day, a small smile on her face. There were matching smiles on Madsin and Sula’s faces. They were the only ones who really remembered the training that they had gone through. They were all glad that the youngest ones were getting the chance to learn from people that wouldn’t purposely hurt them in the guise of teaching them. 

Aili spent more time with them than she meant to but she kept making excuses to herself to extend her visit. There were too many Mandalorians wandering around now, she felt guilty for not spending more time with them, she didn’t want to run into their bounty hunter. If she were being honest with herself they were all lies, she never really wanted to leave them behind but she couldn’t take them with her and she couldn’t become a Mandalorian. Eventually though she had to leave, she had a bounty to catch and they had to sleep. 

She tucked Shaeli and Jaesa into the bed they shared while Madsin and Sula laid down on their own beds. Thankfully the training earlier and their little demonstration had tired the youngest out and they fell asleep without fighting it. Aili let a small smile cross her face again as she brushed the curls away from Jaesa’s face. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few more seconds before letting out a sigh and getting up. Sula had already fallen asleep, or she was pretending so she didn’t have to say goodbye, but Madsin was sitting up against the wall. 

“You know the Armorer would let you stay if you asked,” Madsin said, looking at Aili with a single eyebrow raised. She understood why her sister wouldn’t swear the Creed but she didn’t understand why she couldn’t stay with them anyway. Sure there were some overly traditional members but the Armorer was open-minded. “No one would bother you if they knew you had her permission.”

Aili knew that. Had known that for a few years now and yet she couldn’t do it. She didn’t know if it was the freedom of being on her own ship or not wanting to run the risk of becoming more attached. Or maybe she had lost the ability to settle down somewhere between shooting a blaster for the first time and her first time killing someone. With one last tight smile to Madsin, Aili left their room with a heavy feeling in her chest.

The Armorer was still at her forge when Aili started to creep past and she turned from the flame to look at her. For a moment Aili thought the woman was going to say something to her but she just watched as she walked away. She could still feel the other woman’s gaze on her even when she pulled herself out of the storm drain. 

Night had fallen which made it easy for her to leave the alley without worrying about someone seeing her and she hurried to where her ship was waiting for her. Leaving Nevarro kept getting harder but she had a job to do and would keep doing it until they no longer needed her. With one last long sigh Aili got into her ship and prepared to hunt her quarry.

[f1ct1onalplaces]

New to You

a/n: Hello everyone! This fic is a reader insert and takes place in Caption America: Civil War. It follows you and your significant other, Wanda. She has no romantic interest in Vision in this fic, but I leave hints that Vis likes her. I did this because I may or may not make this a series. We’ll see. Anyway, this is gender neutral so if you see anything that assumes a specific gender please let me know. Enjoy!

Summary: You try to cheer Wanda up but end up burning something in the process and when you try again you're interrupted by an unexpected guest.

TW: little bit of violence, mention of death, language, angst, self-doubt, kissing

"Oh m'god, oh m'god, oh m'god," I say as smoke seeps out from the oven. Quickly, I grab the oven mitts, open the oven, and grab the pan of burnt brownies while my eyes water from the intoxicating fumes. I drop them on the counter before using the mitts as a fan to try and disperse the smokey air before the smoke detector picks it up.

"What the hell is going on here," I hear a thick Sokovian accent say from down the hall. I pay little attention to her chuckles as I continue to fight the smoke. My peripheral vision makes out her outline leaning against the door frame. From just that I know she's dressed in a black long sleeve, a black jacket, a skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee-high socks, chunky black heel boots, and her layered jewelry. Wanda's usual style. I give a sheepish grin and shrug as she pushes off the wall to make her way towards me.

"Babe, you know cooking isn't your best skill." I laugh.

"You don't have to tell me twice," I respond continuing to fan the gray air around us. "I just thought I could do something nice. Guess not." Wanda rolls her eyes at my obvious attempt for pity. She grabs the makeshift fans from my hands, ignoring my grumbling protests, and proceeds to do her own thing. Her hands raise as red power flows throughout the room, gathering the smoke together. Once it's all encased within her power she releases it through an open window.

"Now that wasn't so hard." She croons to me. I huff and stare at my charred brownies.

"Say's the enhanced superhuman." Footsteps thud against the concrete and stop directly behind me. Hands slip around my waist, loosely grabbing my hips as a kiss is planted to the back of my neck.

"Your also an enhanced superhuman," She says with chin resting atop my shoulder. I shrug.

"Yeah, but all I can manage to do is turn invisible and conjure healing abilities." I place all my body weight on Wanda as I lean into her. She presses another kiss to my neck.

"Yes, that may be true but that doesn't mean your useless. Y/n your a valuable member of this team, plus you train with Nat and Cap, making you pretty skilled in combat." Her attempt to cheer me up does the exact opposite when she uses the word team. Since the UN meeting in Vienna, the "team" has divided, resulting in Cap, Sam, and Bucky being made fugitives. I decide to change the subject.

"How are you?" I ask my girlfriend. I feel the movement of her shoulders slump as she lets out a sigh.

"Guilty, horrified, ashamed." She doesn't need to say why. My body turns until our eyes meet.

"It wasn't your fault." Her head shoves into the crook of my neck.

"Yes, it was. Y/n, people are dead because of me" I shake my head and run my fingers through her hair, doing my best to comfort her.

"No, it was Cap's fault. I'm not saying it was on purpose, but he froze and didn't act quick enough. You were just cleaning up his mess." Wanda groans in my shoulder before looking back at me.

"What would I do without you." I glance over at my brownies.

"Well, you definitely wouldn't have to deal with burnt food all the time." At this, she giggles, a sound that makes me weak in the knees, before resting her forehead against mine.

"But actually, what would I do." Her green eyes peer into mine and my answer is simple.

"I could ask the same thing." Wanda smiles and leans in as close as possible without our lips touching.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" Warm air caresses my face, mixing our breaths. A smile spreads

across my face and then I'm rewarded with a smile of her own.

"Of course." Her lips press to mine. I tilt my head back, gasping at the feather-light contact. Our bodies press together, desperate to fill our minds with each other, riding the presence of our ghosts. My fingers weave into her soft locks and give a light tug, pulling a sigh from her lips. Wanda leans closer to my body, hands firmly grasping my back, causing the both of us to stumble back. We both come up for air before diving back in, rougher and heavier. My skin is searing with each touch, every graze of a fingertip against my neck or her nails following the shape of my spine are coals being thrown into a furnace. Hot and smokey. Soon her lips aren't on mine but on my neck. Her teeth skim the smooth skin below my ear, followed by kisses to soothe the sensitive area. I grip the hem of her shirt to ground my buckling knees and it isn't until my back hits the wall that I realize we never stopped moving. My hands finally loosen and slip beneath her shirt, digging into her waist. I'm not sure how far we would have gone if it weren't for the explosion. Jumping back from each other we peer out the window to see fire. Instantly, Vision appears behind us.

"What is it?" I ask, still breathless from a moment ago.

"Stay here please." Vision then goes right through the glass with his strange ghost abilities.

"Cool." I mummer under my breath as we watch him shrink with distance. Wanda tilts her head with a troubled expression.

"It's probably nothing," I say, "And if it is there's nothing Vision can't handle." Her expression stays the same. Browse furrowed, her swollen lips in a line, and blank eyes that show she isn't listening to me.

"Babe," I start but it's interrupted when Wanda spins on her heels, hands in motion with a knife. The knife is ripped from its original position by magic and shoots at a man. It stops mere inches from their face once we both recognize him. Barton flicks the knife to the ground, not a flinch insight.

“Guess I should have knocked” Wanda walks up to him with me right behind.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” His elbow bends behind him grabbing an arrow.

“Disappointing my kids,” he says as he shoots one arrow to the right, spinning around and then one to the left. “I’m supposed to go water skiing.” Quickly, Barton grabs both our hands leading us out. “Cap needs our help.” He gives a tug to my arm, properly sensing my hesitation. “Come on.” I glance over at Wanda, raising my eyebrows in question. Suddenly a voice behind us speaks.

“Clint.” We all freeze. “You should not be here.” Slowly, we all turn around to see Vision, who looks as intimidating as I’ve ever seen him. My mind races to find a way to convince Vis on letting us leave and a way to do it without anything getting physical. Barton though goes a completely different route.

“Really? I retire what, for like five minutes and it all goes to shit.” My mouth makes an O shape as I watch carefully. Though Vision would never severely hurt us I can’t help but think of what he’s capable of. To be fair, I’m dating maybe the one person that can overpower Vision.

“Please consider the consequences of your actions.” Barton doesn’t even think about his response.

“Okay, there considered.” Then from the two arrows, he shot electricity comes out, holding Vision in his grasp, for the time being. “Okay, we gotta go.” Barton and I start jogging away, but it only takes seconds for us to realize Wanda isn’t following. “It’s this way.” She stands there looking down at her feet and tugging at the sleeve of her jacket.

“I’ve caused enough problems.” My heart breaks, remembering our previous conversation. We both turn back and I’m prepared to beg her to come with us. Even if she decides not to fight, just to get out of here. But, once Barton decides to speak I leave it to him to do all the talking and instead decide to grab her hand, letting her decide.

“You gotta help me, Wanda. You wanna mope you can go to high school. You wanna make amend you get off your ass.” Then it goes to hell. His face goes blank as we both look back to see Vision our of the electricity. I pull Wanda and me out of the way as Vis goes for Clint. I grab her shoulders, making her look me in the eyes.

“Wand, you have to make a decision. I don’t want you to feel pressured, but I’m going. You need to know that whatever you decide I’ll support you, but I can’t stay here and do nothing.” Her eyes are on me though I don’t think she sees me. The look that occupies her face has changed from doubtful to perfectly poised and I don’t think it was me who got to her. I finally turn my attention back to the other two and am not surprised to see Barton in a headlock.

“Clint, you can’t overpower me,” says Vision, and that’s when I realize the plan.

"I know," he pronounces, pausing to look at Wanda. "But she can." Wanda circles in front of Vision.

“Vision that’s enough, let him go, I’m leaving” Her magic is a sphere in between her hands, fingers constantly moving to keep it alive.

“I can’t let you,” he responds. Then, vision lets go of Barton As he loses control of his ghost abilities and is forced to his knees by red magic. Vision struggles to get up and the eye contact they hold leaves an ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He sinks closer and closer to the floor.

"If you do this they will never stop being afraid of you." The words come out in between breaths that betray how close he is to losing. His words cause my fists to ball up, angry at the way Vision chooses to say this to Wanda. Trying to insert fear within her bones in order to keep her locked up. The only reason my fist doesn't find a place in his face is partially due to his impenetrable skin, but mostly because of the way Wanda responds.

"I can't control their fear, only my own." She pushes her hands down and with that motion goes Vision. Vision’s shoved down multiple floors, creating giant holes throughout the compound. Once she stops the house is silent with the eagerness to escape before Vision recovers.

“Oh.” Barton looks down. “Come on, we got one more stop.” I grab Wanda's hand, tugging her away from what she just did, and peck her on the lips.

"You did the right thing, no one is going to blame you." I decide to leave out the part about how skeptical I am about everything, but I know Cap would never start something he knew was wrong. So, if he needs help that's what I'll do. She nods in understanding and kisses me again to show she's with me. Our little bubble is popped when we both catch Barton staring.

"So, you two are, umm." I let out a snicker at his helpless confusion. Wanda smiles before answering his incomplete sentence.

"Dating. Yes." This time he laughs.

"Good for you guys. I presume it's pretty new?" We start to jog our way out of the building and to a van pulled just outside the gates.

"New to you," I say elongating the last word.

"Shit," I hear as we get into the van and buckle ourselves in. "I owe Nat twenty bucks."