#crawling out of my awful hole in the ground to drop this in the tag before keeling over and Dying

[beeapocalypse]

houstons got like. three friends on facebook its just dallas chains and a cousin he hasnt talked to for five years

[brutal-nemesis]

Getting Tortured by a Ghost 😳

If you remember the tags on this post, you know what’s about to go down :)

Character Picrews

Ingredients: spooky ghost shenanigans, implied mistreatment of mental hospital patients (really just funky spooky messed up mental hospital stuff), tooth pulling, temporary paralyzation, noncon stripping/clothes change, needles

Honestly, Finn didn’t mind the dare. He’d never scared easily, and he was actually excited to get to spend the night exploring the abandoned mental hospital. The multiple reports of hauntings didn’t faze him; all that stuff was bogus. He was more afraid of getting caught trespassing than he was of creaking doors and gusts of wind. 

The place absolutely had the look of a generic haunted building, hallways filled with abandoned, dusty objects and rooms cluttered with debris. He wandered around, his bright flashlight making it easy to see in the dark building. He was on the second floor now, walking down a long hallway lined with doors. On a whim, he opened one and stepped inside.

The room must have been for examination or something of the sort. There was a padded chair sort of like you’d see at the dentist in the center of the room, with cabinets and shelves lining the walls. Finn looked inside a few and wasn’t surprised to see rusty tools intended for...something medical. He assumed. Turning around, he looked at the chair again. You know what, it would be a good spot for one of the selfies he was supposed to take every hour or so to prove he’d stayed the whole night. Shrugging off his bag, he used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the thick layer of dust off of the chair. 

When it was about as clean as it was going to get, Finn plopped down and pulled out his phone. After finding a good angle that showed off the room, too, he put on his most confident smirk and took the picture. He briefly glanced at the photo to make sure it was good and went to put his phone back in his pocket. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to miss his pocket completely and ended up dropping his phone on the ground. Signing, he bent over the edge of the chair to pick it up, but while doing this, he noticed something...odd.

There were strips of leather dangling from the edges of the chair. They had holes, like a belt would. But what were they...Finn jumped up out of the chair, backing away from it in horror. Now that he looked at them, those were definitely for...for…strapping someone down. To think that people, very sick people, but people nonetheless, had been restrained here was...frightening. Not because that magically meant that their ghosts were going to manifest, but because something awful had happened here. He collected his belongings quickly, wanting to get away from the unsettling chair. 

But right as he was about to start walking out, the door slammed closed. All on its own.

No, no, there was an explanation, it was drafty in here, the doors in his house had done that sometimes if he had a window open or something. He’d be able to open it just fine, reach for the handle, twist, and pull...pull…pull...

Why wasn’t it opening it’s like it was bolted shut from the other side but these doors didn’t have those kind of locks at least he thought so maybe they did and he didn’t notice and it had locked by accident he’d be fine someone would come looking for him in the morning he’d be fi-

Behind him, the lights flickered on. Lights that weren’t supposed to be working because this building hadn’t had power in decades. He had to be dreaming at this point, there was no way this was real, maybe there was some weird gas leaking in somewhere and he was hallucinating because this can’t be real this can’t be real. But, to be sure the light wasn’t really on...

Finn stifled a cry of surprise as he saw the room behind him. It had become completely spotless, everything in fantastic repair, gleaming metal tools laid out on the countertops, the chair no longer losing stuffing. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, no it was the woman standing next to the chair, dressed as a nurse with a clipboard in her hand, smiling at him warmly.

“Good evening, Mr. Waltersson. Won’t you please sit down?” 

“How do you know my-you’re not real.” Finn gripped his flashlight tightly to keep his hands from shaking as he backed up into the door. “You’re not real and I’m not sitting in that fucking chair.”

“Now, now, that won’t do, Mr. Waltersson,” the nurse tutted. “You need to sit down so we can get started on your treatment.”

“I don’t need treatment I’m not a patient here and this place is abandoned and this isn’t real.” 

“Those delusions of yours will need to be corrected,” the nurse muttered as she wrote on her clipboard. “And you,” she looked up, pointing at him, “need to sit down.”

And in that instant, Finn found himself sitting in that infernal chair. He tried to get up, run away, anything, but he found he couldn’t move a muscle. “Wh-what the fuck let me go-”

“Patient resisted treatment and had to be restrained,” The nurse said as she wrote, waving a hand towards the chair. Finn looked on in horror as the leather straps rose up all by themselves and slowly started to encircle him. He commanded his body to move, to squirm, to get away before it was too late, but it stayed impossibly still. He could only watch as the straps slowly tightened around him, first his ankles, then his thighs, then his wrists, and then his chest. He felt a final one slither over his forehead, and right after it had tightened, he found he could move again. He struggled and squirmed desperately, but the straps wouldn’t give. He was trapped.

“There we go. Now let’s get you changed and the treatment can start.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear.

“You can’t-you can’t do this to me this isn’t real-”

“Isn’t it?” She was looking right at him, and for the first time he saw her eyes, or lack thereof, gaping coal black voids that bored right into him. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly Finn’s clothes were gone, replaced with a flimsy hospital gown. He shivered in the sudden chill, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

“What the fu-give me my clothes back!” 

“We wouldn’t want to get blood on them, now would we?”

“Blood-you can’t hurt me you’re not real!” Finn wasn’t sure if he was protesting or trying to reassure himself at this point, but it didn’t matter, because this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He’d snap out of it soon, he was sure of it, because she was going to try to hurt him and it wouldn’t work because you can’t feel pain in dreams, as real as the leather straps and hospital gown felt, they weren’t real, they weren’t, and he was going to wake up from this awful nightmare soon.

“Let’s begin the treatment, shall we?” The woman pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and Finn flinched at the snap they made. “You need to make peace with reality, Mr. Waltersson, and this will help you with that.” She waved a finger, and a scalpel levitated off the counter and started to approach Finn’s arm. He tried his best to remain calm, reminding himself that she couldn’t hurt him because this was all just in his head.

The cold tip of the scalpel pressed into the flesh of his arm, fuck it felt so real, and as it started to move downwards, slicing into him, he couldn’t help but gasp at the pain because there was pain it was real this was real but no no it couldn’t be there’s no such thing as ghosts but how, how else could this be happening to him? The scalpel made multiple cuts in his arm, each one burning more than the last.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Waltersson? Ready to accept reality yet?” The nurse leaned over him, a deceptively warm smile on her face.

“This isn’t-just because this hurts doesn’t mean it’s real. I-I could have been injured some other way and my brain is trying to justify it because there’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “It looks like you’ll need something more...intense. But before that…” she reached out to touch him, but her hand passed right through, filling the area with an unbearable cold. She laughed darkly and sat right on top of his lap, passing through him but not the chair. All he ended up feeling was a horrible icy chill and a slight pressure. 

“Get off of me. Real nurses don’t do this, anyway,” Finn growled, trying to disguise his fear and discomfort.

“The rules stopped applying to me a long time ago, Mr. Waltersson. In fact, I don’t know if they ever did.” Finn’s skin crawled as her gloved hand traced up along his body, leaving a trail of icy cold in its wake. It settled around his throat, the cold and pressure making it slightly difficult for him to breathe. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. But I suppose that makes it more fun for me. I’ve always liked the feisty ones.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear. If this woman was a ghost, had she...had she treated patients like this? The thought terrified him more than his current, very much not-real predicament did. 

At least, until he saw a pair of pliers floating towards him, the nurse smiling at him as they did. “Open wide.” He clamped his mouth shut tightly, fruitlessly trying to turn his head away. She sighed, and he soon felt the pliers pinch his nose shut, making it impossible for him to breathe. Finn held out for as long as he could, but eventually he caved, opening his mouth and gulping in air to relieve his burning lungs. The pliers wormed into his mouth, clamping one of his lower molars in their jaws.

All the while, the nurse watched him with a sick smile on her face, her aura of warm professionalism starting to disappear. Finn whined, hyperventilating as the pliers began to yank at his tooth. He’d needed to have a tooth pulled as a kid, so the intense pressure was familiar, but the accompanying pain was something horribly, horribly new. It exploded in his mouth when the tooth finally came out, and he felt tears leak from his eyes. This...this was far too intense to be anything but reality. The ghost laughed maniacally, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his own cries. 

When he had started to calm down, she leaned in, her face right in front of his. “Well, Mr. Waltersson, do you understand now?”

“I-I understand that you’re a sadistic bitch,” Finn said as blood dripped from his mouth. He tried to spit it in her face, but it passed right through and ended up all over the gown. She just smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. The fear behind your bravado is all too obvious.” She stood and waved a hand, summoning a bottle from one of the cabinets. “Let’s get you taken care of, then.” The bottle unscrewed itself and dumped part of its contents on Finn’s injured arm. The wounds lit up with a horrible, stinging pain, and he fought the urge to scream. He tried to stay as still as possible as a bandage wound around his arm, just wanting to get this nightmare over with. 

His resolve faltered as a syringe floated into view, already filled with...something.

“W-wait no what the fuck is in that thing don’t you dare-”

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s just a sedative. Come and play with me again, won’t you, Finnegan?” She placed her hand in his as the needle slid into the crook of his elbow, injecting its contents into his veins.

“I abso...lutely...will…not…” he gasped as he slid into unconsciousness.

Finn jolted awake what felt like seconds later, so startled to find himself still in the chair that he fell out of it. He stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, his mind racing. That...that hadn’t fucking happened, had it? He was back in his own clothes, thank God, but his arm and lower jaw were in a suspicious amount of pain. He reached with his tongue, and...his tooth was gone. He stood and carefully pulled off his hoodie to find his arm bloodied and bandaged. So then...that was all real, the pain and the chair and the straps and the pliers and the ghost nurse and her horribly empty eyes.

A terrible thought formed in the back of his mind. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands, going to the photo app. There, in the selfie he took right before everything went to shit...it was faint, but there was definitely someone standing behind him. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, it was the photo that was taken after it. 

It was of him, lying in the chair, still restrained and wearing the bloodied hospital gown, very much unconscious.

He finally let himself scream.

Tags because y’all said 👀👀: @spookyboywhump @befuddled-calico-whump

[here4theheartbreak]

Lazy Dog Mornings

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Hoseok x Jimin x Jungkook x Taehyung Genre: smut, PWP Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3.1k

Tags: smut, PWP, puppy play, dirty talk, rough sex, knotting cock rings, discussion of breeding, D/s relationship, oral sex, anal sex, barebacking, bottom Park Jimin, puppy Park Jimin, switch Jeon Jungkook, puppy Jeon Jungkook, top Taehyung, top Hoseok, 

Summary: Taehyung brings Jimin to spend a lazy Saturday with Hoseok and Jungkook for a puppy play date.

A/N: The first of 2021′s Kinktober fics! Due to time constraints with real life, I will not be doing all 31 days for Kinktober. There are 18 fics listed at the moment for this month’s official Kinktober, scattered from today to the 31st. Between these fics I will be publishing the rest of Moonlight as I am able, so I recommend turning on notifications or AO3 notifications if you’re interested, since my normal Monday’s only posting schedule will be gone at least for the remainder of this month. Hope you enjoy! 

“Long time no see,” Hoseok rose, hugging Taehyung. 

“Right, it’s been weeks. How’ve you two been?” Taehyung asked. Jimin slipped in behind him, smiling sheepishly at Hoseok. 

“We’ve been good,” Hoseok said. He reached out, tugging Jimin’s collar. “You’re okay, you can go play. Jungkookie is in the living room. Make sure he puts his collar on if he’s gonna play with you.”

Jimin grinned broadly and rushed into the living room, forgetting to drop onto his hands and knees. Taehyung chuckled. “He’s been asking to come see Jungkook for ages.”

“He lost his phone,” Hoseok said, rolling his eyes. He laughed as he did. “We’re getting him a new one, but that’s why he’s not talked to Jimin.”

“How’s he been adjusting to the more permanent lifestyle?” Taehyung asked as they walked into the living room. 

“Not too bad. We still keep it pretty casual, especially because he does still wanna have a regular job, all that. But on weekends like this, well – aside from a video game I know a pup would never be able to play…” He tousled Jungkook’s hair as he passed. Jungkook smiled up at him sheepishly, holding his game controller a little closer to his chest. “He’s enjoying it.”

“Oh!” Taehyung patted Jimin. “Get comfy, pet – you’re safe here.”

“Can I?” Jimin asked. Taehyung nodded. 

“Me too?” Jungkook chirped. 

“Of course.” Hoseok handed him his collar. “You want a drink, Taehyung?”

“Something light,” Taehyung said. He followed Hoseok to the kitchen. “You know, I got Jimin the neatest new toy.”

“Oh?”

“I think Jungkook might really enjoy it.”

Hoseok nodded as he dug in the fridge. He passed Taehyung a bottle of yellow alcohol. “It’s sweet,” he assured him. He reached up and grabbed a bowl, as well as a stainless-steel dog bowl, and two more bottles of the alcohol. 

The two had met at a munch nearly seven years ago. Taehyung was fresh to the scene, while Hoseok had been playing a few more years. They became fast friends, sharing tips and learning new things together. It wasn’t until five years ago that they stumbled across Jimin and Jungkook, two young men in a very similar situation, at a much, and rather new to the scene. The four formed a friendship that shifted very easily and organically into something much deeper; Jimin finding Taehyung’s close age a comfort and seeking him as a more permanent partner, and Jungkook preferring the firm hand of an elder to take care of his needs. The rest, as they say, was history. Even now, years later, they rarely played outside of their loose quad, and puppy play had become the shining key in their relationship, Jimin and Jungkook taking to it instantly.

When they returned to the living room, Jungkook and Jimin had gotten themselves far more comfortable. Their clothing was in a pile nearby and they were lounging on Jungkook’s blanket on the floor, each wearing their collars and preferred tails. Jungkook’s was a sleek, whiplike black one, as well as a pair of soft, folded velveteen ears, and Jimin’s was a curly-q one, fluffy and big, dyed in a variety of bright colors. His ears were bright yellow and white, one that stood straight up, the other flopped down, with the same fluffy fur as his tail. They were both watching the television intently, some sports program Jungkook must have found. 

Hoseok crouched, pouring one bottle into each bowl. He snapped, getting their attention. “For you guys.”

Jungkook grinned and made a small noise of appreciation, rolling over and crawling to the bowl. 

Jimin yapped, pouting at Jungkook, who’s movement had disturbing his head rest. He stayed on his back for a moment before rolling to trot to his bowl as well. Hoseok smiled softly, watching the two for a minute before leaning back on the couch, sipping his drink. Taehyung moved closer to him, brushing a hand lightly over his thigh. 

“We really need to make time to hang out more often,” Taehyung commented. 

“Hm… We do.” Hoseok leaned over, his lips grazing Taehyung’s jaw. “Oh, you smell amazing.”

“A new cologne, Jiminie got it for my birthday.”

“It’s splendid. Tell me,” Hoseok set his bottle down and slid his hand up Taehyung’s thigh, squeezing firmly. “How’s work been going?”

Taehyung sighed, leaning into Hoseok. “Same old, same old,” he mumbled breathily. “My boss is sort of a jerk but I’m making due… I’m up for a promotion next month.”

“Congrats. You’ll finally be out from under his thumb if you get it.”

“Mm, that’s the hope; I’ll be his equal. I’ll have some more flexible time too, which will be nice.”

“Come visit us more often,” Hoseok suggested, beginning to press gentle kisses along Taehyung’s jaw. 

“I’d like to. Playdates for the pups at least.”

“Oh, of course… That’s the only reason,” Hoseok teased. He shifted, meeting Taehyung’s mouth in a gentle kiss. It deepened easily, their hands sliding over one another’s bodies. Taehyung shifted his hand under Hoseok’s shirt, pinching his nipple hard enough to make Hoseok hiss. 

“Tease,” he growled, nipping Taehyung’s bottom lip.

“No… Foreplay,” Taehyung promised. He moved over, nudging Hoseok’s shirt out of the way to suck a bruise onto the firm muscle of his collarbone. Hoseok moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut. He reached out, palming Taehyung’s cock gently through his jeans, savoring the feel of it stiffening even through the thick fabric. 

His eyes fluttered open and glanced down at their pups on the floor, chuckling. 

“I think someone’s in a humpy mood,” he teased, nudging Taehyung.

Taehyung pulled away from his neck looked over to see. Jimin had mounted Jungkook and was lazily thrusting into his mouth.

“Jimin!” Taehyung hissed. 

Jimin jumped down, doing his best to look guilty and remorseful with his cock hard and wet between his thighs. Jungkook, on the other hand, pouted. He trotted up to Hoseok and rested his chin on his knees, whining softly.  

Hoseok smiled, stroking his hair. 

“Aw, I’m okay with having a breeding session if you are, Taehyungie,” Hoseok said. 

Jungkook wiggled his butt, looking expectantly at Taehyung. 

Taehyung chuckled, reaching out and tugging Jungkook’s ear playfully. “You’re really too cute for your own good. Fine. But you mount him. Minie is in trouble for coming too fast earlier this week and isn’t allowed to fuck anything.”

Jimin whined softly, spinning himself in a small circle before play bowing to Taehyung in apology. 

“Oh! Wanna try out the new toy?” Taehyung offered, pulling it out. It looked like a leather cock ring, dyed a vibrant, ruddy red. It was thick – two strips of leather at the top and bottom of the ring, connected by a thinner strip of leather that would rest at the top and underside of the cock when attached. In the middle, where the open space was, was what looked like a piece of a thick condom. Attached to the ring was a rubber tube that ran back and attached to a little hand pump coming from where the ring attached to where it connected behind the balls.

“It’s a knotting cock ring. He can pump it up when he’s coming and knot him, just like a real pup.”

Hoseok grunted in approval. “I would love to see that. Let him put it on you, Kookie.”

Jungkook nodded. He went up on his knees and set his hands on either side of Taehyung’s knees. Taehyung leaned down, attaching the cock ring to him. As he did, Jungkook snuffled over his neck and licked him, earning a laugh. Taehyung tousled his hair and flicked his cock gently.

“Go on, breed my Minie. Make sure he howls for you like a good boy,” he cooed.

Jungkook rushed back over, tackling Jimin down. The two began to wrestle around, kissing and biting at each other’s necks and mouths. 

“Is he well lubed?” Hoseok asked, palming himself through his jeans as he watched the two.

“Oh yeah, I added a lot before we came, just in case you or Jungkook wanted to use him.” Taehyung reached out, palming Hoseok himself. “Wanna fuck my mouth while we watch?”

“No, I think I’m gonna get some puppy kisses after they get going, do you mind if I use Jimin?”

“By all means… Can I breed Jungkook?”

“Please do - he’s been itching for a new cock in his hole lately.”

Jimin yelped, drawing their attention to the two on the floor. Jungkook had him pinned on his stomach, teeth digging hard into his shoulder. He’d nudged the tail plug out of the way, using the strap around Jimin’s middle to keep it on. He was rutting away, trying to sink his cock in without hands. 

“That’s a good boy,” Taehyung cooed. “You breed him. Show him who’s the boss.”

Jungkook barked and shifted, yelping himself when his cock finally plunged into Jimin’s slick asshole. 

Jimin screamed, jerking under him as Jungkook began to fuck into him, not giving him a chance to ease into it. 

Hoseok swore softly. He sank to the ground, undoing his jeans and sliding close to Jimin. 

“Come on, Minie. Be a good dog and play with a bone.” He taunted. He fisted Jimin’s hair and pulled his head up. Jimin’s cheeks were mottled, his eyes already glazed in pleasure and Jungkook used his ass. 

Hoseok slapped his cock over Jimin’s wet, plush lips. “Come on, puppy. Be good.”

Jimin whined low in his throat. He stuck his tongue out, drooling over Hoseok’s cock before letting it slide into his mouth. Hoseok moaned happily, holding his head. “Oh, good doggie,” he groaned. 

“That mouth is phenomenal, isn’t it?” Taehyung asked, crawling onto the floor with Hoseok. His own cock was pulled from his pants, wet with his own spit as he stroked himself.

“Amazing, you’ve done wonders training him, Taehyung,” Hoseok panted, fucking up into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin whimpered and groaned, his throat making small, wet gulping noises each time Hoseok’s cock penetrated it. 

“Want me to suck it?” Hoseok offered, looking at Taehyung’s cock pointedly.

“Nope, I was just getting ready. Is Kookie’s hole ready?”

Jungkook barked sharply, his grin wide enough to show most of his teeth. Hoseok laughed. 

“There’s your answer.” 

Taehyung chuckled. He pulled his pants off and went over behind Jungkook. He pulled the plug out, sliding two fingers in instead. “Oh, good boy. Ready to get filled up, huh?” 

Jungkook grumbled happily, wiggling his ass as much as he could still humping Jimin. 

“That’s it, hump my boy,” Taehyung coaxed. “Minie needs a nice thick load from a puppy like you this week, remind him what a good little breeding boy he is.”

Jungkook growled. He laid over Jimin, panting and huffing in his ear. 

Jimin moaned as well as he could, his voice cut off when Hoseok pumped his cock back into his mouth. He held his head down, eyes rolling back. “He’s gotten so much better at deep throating,” Hoseok panted.

Taehyung slid his cock slowly into Jungkook, sighing contentedly at the tight squeeze. Jungkook yipped, his body giving a pleasant little shudder. Taehyung went still, almost all the way inside Jungkook. He let his hands rest on his hips gently. Each time Jungkook thrusted into Jimin, he pulled slightly off Taehyung’s cock, and the pull out pushed him firmly back onto him. Jungkook groaned deep in his throat.

“Good boy,” Taehyung praised, stroking his sweat slicked back. “Harder you fuck my pup, the more cock you get, you’re learning.” 

Jungkook barked. He leaned down, licking a stripe up Jimin’s neck before nipping his ear and growling deep down. He began to move faster, slamming into Jimin hard enough to jerk him forward ever so slightly. The movement made him take Hoseok’s cock a little deeper as well, his shoulders jerking when he gagged on his cock. 

Jungkook picked up the hand pump, squeezing it a few times. Jimin whined, pushing his ass back further as the knot began to swell. It wasn’t enough to lock yet, slipping in and out of his ass with a slick pop. 

“Has he taken it before?” Hoseok panted, shifting to fuck up into Jimin’s mouth. 

“Not yet,” Taehyung said. He laid over Jungkook, his own hips now working to pound deep into his ass on each thrust. “He’s knotted me with it, and it felt amazing, but he’s not had a pup to give it to him.”

Hoseok moaned softly at that. “Hear that, Kookie,” he cooed, stroking Jungkook’s hair. “Gonna be the first to knot Minie’s tight little hole. How proud you should be. Give it to him good, pet… Make him howl for you.”

Jungkook barked sharply, choking back a moan. He shifted, driving his hips harder and faster into Jimin’s ass. 

Jimin shouted around Hoseok’s cock, his tears sliding down his cheeks. Hoseok looked at him, giving a thumbs up in question. Jimin nodded as well as he could, wrapping his lips tightly around Hoseok’s cock and sucking hard even as he gagged.

Jungkook began to pant more erratically, his hips working wildly. He snarled huffed and whined, biting down on Jimin’s shoulder lightly. He grabbed the pump, squeezing it each time he thrust forward. 

Finally, Jimin yelped and Jungkook went still, spinning his hips in tiny little circles. He leaned his head back, mouth open as his body jerked gently with the force of Taehyung’s thrusts. 

“That’s a good boy,” Taehyung purred, holding Jungkook’s hips. “You breeding my boy? Hm? Filling my pup full?”

Jungkook let his tongue hang out, his eyes going a little unfocused. The sight was stunning. 

Hoseok swore softly. He shifted and thrusted hard and fast into Jimin’s mouth. He could feel drool dribbling down his cock as Jimin struggled to take him. 

“Relax, Minie,” he panted. “Just let me in, I’ll give you a yummy treat, just let it happen, oh, fuck—” Hoseok gritted his teeth. He drove his cock into Jimin’s mouth, feeling his throat clench and convulse around his tip. He held his head, his cock spurting ropes of come. 

Hoseok released Jimin’s head, letting him pull back. Drool and come spilled from his mouth and over his chin and he coughed and gagged. He went back immediately, lapping at Hoseok’s cock to clean it. Hoseok smiled softly, stroking his hair. “Such a good boy,” he cooed. 

Jungkook grunted, baring his teeth as Taehyung pounded into him, his nails biting into Jungkook’s hips. 

Taehyung shuddered, his thrusts breaking their rhythm as he neared his orgasm. He tossed his head back, grunting as he came, still driving into Jungkook’s ass as he did. Jungkook grinned broadly, looking back at Taehyung and barking once sharply. 

“Yeah, I know… Good boy,” Taehyung panted, patting his ass. 

“I think Minie needs to come still,” Hoseok worried, leaning down to stroke Jimin’s cock, leaking and hard.

“Aw, you didn’t come from being bred?” Taehyung asked. 

Jimin shook his head in something resembling a no and whined, thrusting forward into Hoseok’s hand as much as he could still tied to Jungkook’s cock. 

“I’ll milk him,” Hoseok offered. He kissed Jimin’s cheek and forehead gently. Letting go of Jimin’s cock for a moment, he swiped his hand through the come and spit from their earlier activities still on Jimin’s face, using it to ease his hand as he began to stroke Jimin with a firm, sure grip.

“Come on, pup – let it out. We gotta get you to come or you’ll get pent up, won’t we?” He coaxed, his voice soft and soothing. 

“Such a good boy, Minie,” Taehyung added, reaching out to stroke Jimin’s back. “Didn’t come without permission, you’re getting so good at that. You have permission now, puppy – you can come any time you need.”

“He is a good boy,” Hoseok agreed. Jimin smiled crookedly, letting his tongue hang out even as his eyelids fluttered. “Holding his come until we’re ready to milk it out of him. Taking Kookie’s knot all the way, taking me without so much as a complaint or a nip. You’re such a good boy, Minie.” Hoseok stroked his cheek gently, his hand working fast along the length of his cock. 

Jungkook snuffled against Jimin’s ear, whining and woofing softly. He licked a stripe up his cheek and Jimin turned his head, meeting Jungkook’s mouth in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth. 

Jimin broke the kiss to hiss, his hips twitching wildly. 

“That’s it,” Taehyung coaxed. “Let it come. Come for Hobi, Minie.” Taehyung slowly pulled his softened cock from Jungkook’s ass, slipping the tail plug back in. Jungkook let the air from the knot, pulling himself free. He crouched down, sliding his tongue deep into Jimin’s gaping hole to catch the come as it dribbled out.

Jimin groaned at that, thrusting back against Jungkook’s tongue. His eyes rolled back a little, mouth hanging open. 

“Come on, such a good boy, come for me, Minie, come on, let it all out.” Hoseok praised.

Jimin yipped, his entire body shuddering. Jungkook leaned up and pushed his tail plug back in, biting his ass playfully. Jimin’s cock jerked in Hoseok’s hand and began to spurt ropes of come onto his hand and the floor. 

“Oh, good boy,” both Taehyung and Hoseok praised as Hoseok milked his orgasm from him. When he could get no more, Hoseok pulled his hand back and both Jimin and Jungkook went forward, licking the come from it. They shared another messy kiss afterward, nipping each other’s mouths.

Hoseok settled back onto the couch, wiping his hand free of saliva and come, and tucking himself back into his jeans.

“That was very needed,” Taehyung said, slumping on the couch after putting himself away. 

“Most definitely,” Hoseok agreed, watching the two cuddle on the floor. “You boys wanna get a bath?” He offered. “After we can all take a nice nap together and then go out to dinner?”

Jimin and Jungkook untangled themselves from each other and rushed up to the two, wagging their tails as fast as they could manage. 

Taehyung laughed brightly. “Guess that’s a yes.”

The two rose and led Jimin and Jungkook down to the bathroom. Deciding it was far easier, they got the others up on their feet and showered two by two, sharing gentle kisses and touches as they passed. 

After their showers, Jungkook and Jimin were permitted to remove their plugs, leaving their ears and collars on. Hoseok let Taehyung borrow a pair of sleeping pants, and all four curled up on Hoseok and Jungkook’s bed. It was a tight fit, not that they minded; the closeness was comforting for Jimin and Jungkook after playtime, and Taehyung and Hoseok were happy to give them all they needed. They knew they weren’t in the most traditional relationship, but it didn’t bother them. They were happy, and they found joy in the small things. That was what really mattered. 

[yeojaa]

wait !!!! find her jk with that prompt the other anon sent!!! can u plssss that’s literally something find her jk would actually do🥺🥺🥺🥺

[ read finders keep hers ]

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  idiots in love.  like, that’s all there is to say.  angst central, my dude.  wc.  2.4k.  author note.  i meant to make this short and end with some tender lovemaking but...  i cannot be trusted near a keyboard so you get this word vomit instead.  xoxo!

You love Jeon Jungkook.  Have, you think, since before you knew what the word love meant.

(Maybe since you were children and you’d still stood a chance against him, bursting with pride from a job well done, young enough that your parents’ kind words felt better than anything in the world.  Before he’d turned into the president of the Casanova Club and he’d just been your and your brother’s best friend.  Little Jeon with the unbelievably big eyes, always so curious about everything.

Or maybe since your tenth grade White Day, when he’d bought you your favourite candies and pressed them unceremoniously into your hands, too many to hold so they fall to dirt and tumble around you.  He’d stooped to snatch them all up, shoving them into the pockets of your coat.  “Because we’re best friends or whatever,”  he’d said with this toothy, silly smile.

More likely during university.  That time you’d maybe (read: very) foolishly made out, liquor fueling the tangle of your limbs and how utterly good he felt within them, a nectarine dream in his brand new G Wagon.  You’d thought he’d laugh in your face, mumble something about no, we can’t - which he had - but he’d also taken you home, tucked you in and climbed in beside your inebriated self.

Definitely once you’d started seeing each other, spending more time in his bed than anywhere else.  It’d been nearly impossible to separate head from heart, falling deeper and deeper into the Jungkook-shaped black hole that seemed to eclipse everything else.  You’d fallen head over stupid heels, leaving bits of yourself hidden among his things.  Your lip balm in his trouser pocket, perfume on the collar of his favourite turtleneck, shape of your mouth alongside monogrammed initials. 

You hadn’t meant to.

Love him, that is.  It’d simply happened in between all the laughter, the eye rolls, the smiles.  Threaded between each action and cemented by the thud of your heart, beat into the ground like a drum.)

Sometimes, though, you don’t like him.  Oftentimes, in fact. 

You and Jungkook are as different as can be.  

You’re in business development at a tech firm;  he’s the technically unemployed son of a real estate mogul.  You invest most of your money;  he spends his as if it’ll never run out (which it likely won’t).  You grew up with an older brother;  he’s got two younger sisters.  You drink to celebrate, to wind down;  he drinks to prove a point.  You believe in love - have to, looking at your parents and feeling how you do about him;  he knows it exists but up until recently, had zero interest in it.

You wonder still, seated at the table with your group of friends and their partners, whether that still rings true.  (Deep down, you know it doesn’t. You know he loves you, wants you in a way he’s never wanted anyone else before, but your brain is a fickle thing, playing tricks when it shouldn’t.) 

Would he be happier without you?  Better off without you? 

Your thoughts mock you - just as he does, roguish smile turning his entire expression into sunshine.  Inescapable, all-encompassing, so blinding it’s almost hard to look at.  Trained on the girl he’s chatting up at the bar.  

This is what Jungkook does.  What he’s always done.  You should be used to it, really.  The man’s charm is always turned up to eleven, always in full effect even when he doesn’t mean it to be.  It’s simply part of who he is- young and rich and devastatingly, heartbreakingly handsome. 

Still, you can’t help the emotion that swells somewhere deep in your stomach, jostles the meal you’ve just had and turns your insides into a sea of nausea.  You know when he’s just being friendly and you know when he’s flirting.  It’s a terribly thin line but one you recognise, intimately familiar with the two sides of his personality.  

Right now, he’s flirting.  Doing that thing he does, one arm folded on the counter top, unblemished hand resting somewhere along his hip, silver of his rings acting as a beacon beneath the dim restaurant lights.  His other hand slots itself into the pocket of his coated jeans, tattoos thrown into stark contrast against his skin and the black of the denim.  There’s that smile of his, more a smirk but sunny, radiant, beautiful.  It lights up his entire face, steeping his expression in something warm.  The dimple in his cheek winks with each laugh - you can only imagine the one on the other side does the same, cut deeply into his skin.

Don’t be mad, you tell yourself.  He’s your Jungkook, bad habits and all.  

You love him.  You love him.  You love him.

If he notices your stoicism, he doesn’t comment on it.  Doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay or what’s up.  Barely even speaks to you, save to toss his arm around your shoulder and tug you close, practically tug you into his lap while his friends share stories of their week.

It’s your usual Friday night dinner.  Something you’ve done with this ragtag group for as long as you’ve known them.  An excuse to go out and drink and eat some damn good (and often free) food. 

You wish you could enjoy it like you normally do.  Instead, you’re preoccupied by the way a perfume that isn’t yours lingers on his collar - seeps beneath the fabric and marks him up like a possession.  It’s too sweet - cloying sugar apples and coconut - nothing like your usual earthy wisteria and dewy rose.  It stings your nose when you inhale too deeply, nestled into the familiar shape of Jungkook’s frame, settled between the vertebrae you know best.

You hardly notice when he does speak to you, rousing you from thought you can’t quite place any longer.

“Ready to head home?”

The rest of your friends are going about their business, slipping their coats on and exchanging ideas for plans the following morning.  (Saturday brunch is a very popular thing, though it tends to lean late lunch versus true breakfast-brunch.)

You nod and slip from beneath your lover’s arm, plucking your purse up as you rise.  You’re ready to get out of here, ready to scrub away the melancholy that lingers like a thin film across your skin.  

He must have realised sometime between your silence in the car and your lacklustre kisses in the elevator.  You think he must, as he nearly slams the front door of his penthouse shut, kicks off his Chelsea boots and lets them tumble together just off the welcome mat.  (Not the reaction you’d expected, but you’ve learnt to never expect anything from him.  As much as he might be your best friend, Jeon Jungkook plays by his own set of rules.)

He doesn’t wait for you to undo your own shoes, carefully undoing the straps of your Jimmy Choos and setting them where they belong before you follow the sound of his footsteps.

When you find him, he’s stripping off his jacket and tossing it haphazardly across the back of his desk chair, keys and wallet and phone dropped none-too-gently upon wood.  He says nothing even as he crosses to his closet, steps inside and slips off each piece of jewellery:  assorted rings and his Rolex - everything but the bracelet you’d gotten him for graduation.  

His belt goes next, set back within the confines of its velvet lined drawer.  Through the hole goes the button of his jeans, down goes the zipper, and then he’s in nothing but his vaguely sheer dress shirt, boxer-briefs, and silly printed socks (yellow bananas on black fabric, for reasons), looking every inch the adonis he is. 

You still haven’t said a word, carefully hanging your dress in the small space you’ve carved out for yourself.  You don’t really know what to say - how to approach his apparent frustration when you don’t know where it comes from.

Is he upset with you?  Had you, somewhere along the line of your own sadness, done something to upset him?

You’re running through all the scenarios, lost in thought, when his voice breaks the quiet.  Snaps forth and hits its mark - a perfect shot.  “Seriously?”  There’s a fickle quality to his tone, a pettiness that you recognise when he hasn’t gotten his way, when he’s not quite sure what to say but knows he wants to have something.  (It doesn’t come out often with you, but you’re intimately familiar with it still.  His I-want-to-fight voice.)

“Pardon?”  You’re not expecting him so close, close enough to reach you but far enough that you can tell he’s purposely put this distance between you.  It feels strange - further apart than it is.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

You blink.  Once, twice, three times.  When you speak, it’s full of confusion, paired with your brows gathering in a little knot of bewilderment.  “Anything about what?”

“What happened at dinner.”  

He sounds so utterly deadpan, you can’t help but laugh, a sound of disbelief rather than amusement.  

“You mean you flirting with that girl?”  Even saying the words feels awful, makes you want to crawl into bed and forget about it all.

Jungkook, on the other hand, looks like you’ve just handed him the answers to all of life’s questions.  His entire face rearranges, all the pieces matching back up to form a proper puzzle.  There’s a certain smugness to it now, caught in the round of his cheek and how it ticks higher with his grin.  “So you did notice!  I fucking knew it.”

“Of course I did.”  You want to be appalled.  Know you should be.  (But it’s Jungkook and you love him.)  “Kind of hard not to.”  

He’s the devil in disguise, snapping you to him with a flex of his arms, hands curled around your waist.  It’s clear he’s pleased, absolutely tickled pink that you’d fallen for his silly little trick.  “Gotta keep you on your toes,”  he croons, eyes twinkling, mouth wobbling with the strain of keeping his laughter hidden. 

He expects you to agree - maybe roll your eyes and pat his cheek, laughs along with him and give him some sort of shit about how he’s an idiot - and visibly starts when you push yourself away, two palms flat against his chest. 

“Sure.”

One word.  Nothing like he’d imagined.

“Baby?”  You’ve made it two steps - two whole steps, which is two too many to Jungkook - when he’s pulling you back, trapping you against his chest with his arms looped around your shoulders.  “Where you going?”  He’s kissing along your shoulder, trailing warmth everywhere he touches. 

He still smells like that girl’s perfume.

“Can you get off me, please?”  You’re more polite than you normally are, working hard to keep calm when he only tightens his grip.  Of course he thinks you’re kidding, thinks you’re pouting and playing just like he had when you’d returned home.

When you repeat yourself - a little harder, a little quieter - he seems to realise how wrong he’s read the situation.

“Angel—”  You’re swept around, left to stare into the neat white of his shirt as he peers down at you, waits for you to meet his eyes.  You don’t, staunchly focused on the buttons of his Oxford, how they strain over his broad chest.  “Baby.”  Now he’s the one full of reprimand, disapproval colouring the single word that’s normally so sweet.

“What?”  It’s just as bratty as he was earlier but somehow worse, touched blue.

“What’s wrong?”  Jungkook seems genuinely perplexed, concerned and maybe, just a tiny bit frustrated.  He’s not used to you lashing out like this, soft and yet unyielding, hidden behind a door he’s fumbling with the keys to.

“You.”

“—me?”

You’re not one to throw out things you don’t mean, carefully picking and choosing your words.  It’s something you’ve always done - far more responsible than your idiot best friend who’s never had to worry about a thing in his life.  

The line of his mouth dips, pulls into a frown as he studies you and tries to crack open the windows to gain some insight.  It doesn’t work well;  he’s faced with a stone wall.

“Why’re you mad?” 

You want to laugh.  Do, actually, so short and abrupt it’s more of a scoff.  “What’s wrong with me?”  You’d pull away if you could. (Realistically, you could, but you’ve always been too soft for him.)  “You spent almost all of dinner flirting with someone else.”

“Yeah— to make you jealous.”  As if that makes it better.  As if that doesn’t tear a giant hole right in the centre of your chest, launches your poor heart out of the airlock to fend for itself in the emptiness of his expression.  

You don’t know why it feels worse to hear it out loud.  You’d figured as much. 

(Jungkook had done this in the past, though always jokingly.  He’d rarely been invested enough in a girl to go to such lengths but you’d seen it once or twice.  Always the age old adage of wanting what you can’t have.)

You wish you could separate the then from the now.  Remind yourself that he does care, that this is his twisted, stupid way of showing his affection - of keeping you around.  (You know he’s just as vulnerable as you - maybe more, sometimes - but he shows it poorly.  Pushes you away when he tries to pull you in.)

Tears are welling, spilling across your lashes faster than you can yank them back.  Something about being an angry crier.  

“Good job,”  you mean to snap, to make him feel how you do.  (Small - so very, very small.)  Instead, it’s terribly quiet.  A whisper that gets lost to the cotton poplin.  “Now I’m jealous.”  And miserable and insecure.  All things you usually aren’t, that only Jeon Jungkook manages to bring out in you.

“Baby,”  he tries again, crushing you to his chest, jut of his chin resting atop your head.  His hugs had always been your favourite - swallowing you whole, making you feel safe - but it’s too much now, a prison cell rather than your familiar bed.  “I’m sorry.”  He’s kissing again, stamping his affection into the dark of your hair, brushing over and over with the soft of his lips, his rounded adorable nose,  “I thought—”

You know what he thought.  Know where he’d been coming from (a place of immaturity, a gilded golden room with Jeon Jungkook stamped across the door) but it doesn’t make it any better.

Doesn’t make it hurt any less.

[kshira]

hq boys & dates :･ﾟ

+ atsumu miya, yu nishinoya, koshi sugawara & kōtarō bokuto

ღ ◟ t/w| cursing

atsumu miya → laser tag

-he takes his dates with you seriously, and has them planned months beforehand.

-has countdown apps telling him the months, weeks, days and even seconds left before his dates with you.

-on this particular date, he’s banging at your door at six am pulling you from bed “babe get up, yer gonna be late for our date!!”

-“atsumu the place doesn’t even open till noon, my god.”

-he wants to get there first, at six am.

-while you two are waiting for the door to open he’s yanking you through it, again he’s very serious

-atsumu is competitive so you know what’s going to happen next

-vietnam war flashbacks start, and you can see him in the back just hopping around sniping literal children

-at one point he’s army crawling on the dirty ass ground, and you just look down and you’re like “dude you have candy stuck to you.”

-he gets super confused and thinks he’s on the losing team, so the circus music that plays in his head on loop has intensified and he starts yelling at you “to get your shit together”

-once the victory has been set atsumu puts his super sweaty arm around your shoulder “let’s do this again, it was fun!”

-“yes atsumu it was fun, let’s ignore the crying children in the background and panic workers wondering why there are holes in the wall and get ice cream”

yu nishinoya → playground

-his dates are always sporadic, he always calls when you’ve just got home and about to relax and then he’s calling you while he’s outside of your house asking you if you want to go to a playground.

-while he’s pulling up he hasn’t even put the car in park before he’s hauling ass to the swings, you have to just kinda reach over and yank it in park

-*cue to him eating shit on the way to the swings, and just kinda brushes hisself off and continues on*

-he’s gonna swing as high as he can before jumping off and landing that jump and honestly it was amazing

-you can’t keep your eyes on him because the man stays on one thing for five seconds before he’s on to the next

-last thing is the monkey bars, yes those monkey bars

-he jumps up on them and starts doing flips and shit (honestly i’ve never played on monkey bars so just bare with me)

-he’s going to be showing off before he just flips off of it and doesn’t move so you run over to him in panic because he’s lying still and groaning

-“oh my god, noya are you okay? bones!! oh my god i see bones!”

-he’s pulling out his wallet and you’re like oh thank god his information and insurance

-ha sike, he pulls out a stamped card with holes punched in it “it’ll be my fifth ER visit so this one is free, ready for our next adventure??”

koshi sugawara → putt-putt

-he probably saw it on the internet a day before and it was bring one person the other is free.

- i just see him as a money saver. but like in a sexy way.

-he’s very professional about this, so you get your own club and no sharing also you’re going to be completely quiet while he hits this signature suga hit okay.

-but when you hit?

-oh, he’s ripping you the entire time, “honey i know you can hit better than that!” and the famous “well if you insist let me show you how to do it”

-he’ll wrap his arms around you and put his mouth close to your ear and whisper sweet little praises while he shows you how to properly hit it

-but it goes like two feet

-and he’s going to count that as a hit

-he’s lowkey pissing you off with his counts that you are fucking up so bad

-so now you’re on the last hole and you’re like you know what fuck it and you yeet that motherfucker

-and it’s going to go in for a ball in one!

-yeah no, it ricochet right for his face

-“oh honey i guess that’s one hit!” you say dropping the mic club.

kotaro bokuto → axe throwing

-he calls you that night and casually brings it up

-“me and you? with objects that can kill me? and you’re going to be throwing them? oh my god this is a dream come true bokuto.”

-no but really he comes picks you up and he’s so excited

-you two get there and he is amazed to have the axe in his hand

-you’ve thrown multiple and he’s still staring down at it in awe

-when he finally throws it, you just flinch at the soul crunching sound it makes

-but honestly he’s really good

-okay except for the one he did with his eye closed and the workers had to pull it from the ceiling

-he is the hype train with you

-every throw you make whether it’s good or bad he’s yelling “that’s my girl! everybody stop what you’re doing and watch this beautiful women throw this!” and you’re like “bokuto stop” but really feed me more

-he’ll watch you so intensely every time you throw it and his eyes gleam so bright when you turn to him after you threw it

-he gets a little cocky at the end though and you have to stop him from throwing with both hands

-“come on bokuto let’s go get food now” you tell him while you two are about to get in his car

-“is that an axe?? did you take that with you??” you yell at him while he’s swishing it around the air about to get in the car

-“well yeah duh, i got to have a souvenir for our awesome date.” he says grinning while driving away from the place and steering with axe in hand

[twokinkybeans]

Daddy Ain’t So Tough [Starker]

Summary: Sometimes, the word Daddy doesn't necessarily mean you're the one in charge. Or: In which Peter and Tony explore their new little fantasies. Warnings/tags: Nff, smut, incest play/kink, daddy kink, daddy!Tony, bottom!Tony, sub!Tony, top!Peter, dom!Peter, restraints / light bondage, begging & teasing. Notes: HI DEARS! This idea has been in my head for quite a while now and I am so excited that I finally wrote it! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS CAREFULLY. There's some kinks in there not everyone might enjoy. If you do like it, please do continue :) :) <3 And thank y'all for your neverending support! -Kim

Read here on AO3!!

-

“Daddy,” Peter giggles as he straddles Tony’s hips. He trails his fingers down the man’s gorgeous chest. It’s everything Peter could’ve ever dreamed about- even if he hadn’t done it consciously so. The arc reactor is fascinating to him, as are the scars scattered around it. Obviously, the hard lines of the man’s abs are very welcome too. God, he looks so handsome and strong.

“Peter, fuck-” Tony mutters under his breath. Peter simply smirks and he lowers his full weight onto the man’s crotch, causing Tony’s lips to part in a silent gasp. Yeah. Handsome, strong, and entirely Peter’s

It’s only very recently that they made this, eh, discovery. It’s a weird power shift. Contradictory, even. Yet, the shared pleasure shortcircuits their minds more than they’ve ever experienced before. Nothing’s ever been missing, but this? This is a whole new layer Peter aches to delve into.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good, Daddy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be ruined by me?” “Yes, baby boy,” Tony lets out a breathy moan. “I’m so ready for you.” The older man tugs on his restraints in a desperate attempt to lay his hands on the striking, youthful body on top of him. With his 22 years old, Peter is absolutely breathtaking. Strong, ripped muscles to hold him down as no one else ever had. His legs tremble at the mere thought. “Petey- please.”

“Mmmmmh- that’s more like it.” Peter puts his hands down right next to Tony’s head and leans in to kiss the man’s warm lips. Peter moans when Tony is eager enough to immediately take a chance and suck Peter’s lower lip into his mouth. His cock twitches against Tony’s stomach and a hot surge of arousal courses right through him. Fuck. Fuck. Tony - ever-in-control-I’ll-handle-this-myself-Tony - is the neediest sub Peter ever imagined possible. “Nu-uh, Daddy, don’t get ahead of yourself now-” Peter murmurs and pulls back, smirking at Tony’s subconscious attempt to sneak in one more chaste kiss. Peter sits up straight, his hands finding their way to Tony’s hard chest again. His fingertips brush past the man’s soft nipples, earning him a loud groan. “So hot,” Peter whispers gently. He scoots down a little, now sitting on the man’s thighs, and he leans in again. “Bet you’ve been thinking about my dick in your ass all day, uh?” He sucks Tony’s right nipple into his mouth. No longer soft, nor gentle, but sucking harshly. Tony’s hips buck up wildly.  “God-fucking-” “Now, now,” Peter laughs, letting go of the nipple and hovering over the left one. Still awfully untouched. “Didn’t think you’d be this filthy when you raised me.”

There. He did it. He crossed the line again.

Peter looks up and swallows, checking quickly if Tony’s still up for- well… This. Tony’s cheeks flush a bright red and he bites down his bottom lip. He stares right back at Peter- also checking up on the younger boy. They’re still treading new grounds, new fantasies, something neither of them dares to admit out loud just yet. “Well? Did you think you’d be laying here, legs spread wide, for me? What would people think uh?” “Peter-” “Well?” “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck.” Tony babbles, his fingers trembling as he clenches them together. Tony is aware that he has to cue Peter to go on. That he wants in fact pretend to be Peter’s actual Daddy. It’s so hard to say it, though. It’s so awfully wrong and yet his dick aches with want. Peter looks down at him, eyes dark and expectant- waiting for a sign.

“If I raised you so well,” he breathes shakingly, “-then why aren’t your fucking your old man just yet?” Peter scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at him. His eyes are twinkling though, teasing and cunning and Tony whimpers quietly.  “You need it that bad, eh?” “Yes. Baby yes.” 

After that everything turns hazy for Peter. He growls low in his throat and crawls even further down, kneeling in between Tony’s legs and spreading them apart until the tip of his cock brushes against Tony’s already slick and prepped hole.  “All those times you punished me,” Peter rushes out, not knowing where the words come from but they feel so right. “Now you ain’t so tough.” “Just take me, kid.”

Peter doesn’t waste a damn second and he pushes inside without remorse, replacing the heat his fingers had been at a few minutes before. Tony’s eyes screw shut and Peter relishes in the feeling of this handsome, powerful man becoming such a proud bottom underneath his touch. He digs his fingers into Tony’s thighs, lifting his boyfriend’s legs up until they’re wrapped around his waist. God, Tony’s so warm and soft and tight and Peter bites back a pathetic whimper as he inches forward even more- the new position allowing him to slide in deeper.  “Call me that again,” Peter groans demandingly. “Wanna hear you lose it for me.” He draws back slightly, now gripping at Tony’s round ass and pushes in again with such force that Tony shifts upwards in the sheets. Peter’s still holding back, not using all his Spider powers, but some. Enough to make Tony’s eyes roll back. “Please, please kiddo, fuck your Daddy.” This time, Peter can’t help the high-pitched noise escaping his throat. He thrusts forward harsh- again and again and again. His movements accompanied by the loud and suspicious creaking of his small single bed and Tony’s choked off moans as pleasure washes over his lover’s face. Peter’s cock almost hurts with how badly he wants to release himself. Fill up the man’s ass with his cum. He wants to claim him, take charge.

Every single drag back and forth has him see stars. Peter’s breath hitches in his throat and he ignores the light burn at his knees where it creates friction with the sheets. It only makes him more feral. More possessive. More… In charge. Nothing else matters right now. All that matters is the sweet melody of Peter’s name falling from Tony’s lips over and over again. The burning pit deep in his stomach grows higher and bigger- warning Peter he’s going tip over that very edge soon. “Daddy, f- ah! Look at you, legs spread wide for your own blood. Fucking filthy, and you even like it- don’t you?” Peter chokes out. “Does it feel good knowing that you no longer own me?” “K-kid-” “Not anymore, not anymore. Tony.” 

Peter reaches down and curls his fingers around the thick, hot shaft of Tony’s cock. He squeezes, wants to drag his hand down and- “Aaah! P-Peter! Fuck don’t stop don’t stop dont-” Tony’s words turn into an incomprehensible string of syllables as white-hot come rains down onto his own chest. Peter watches in awe how the man’s face contorts with pleasure and a hint of blissful shame. His tight hole clenches around Peter’s still aching cock- and every fiber of his being wants to enjoy the same overwhelming euphoria. He quickly scans Tony’s face once, not sensing a hint of discomfort as he speeds up his thrusts. Not in the slightest. “Peter yes please fuck me through it. Show your Daddy how it’s done.”

Peter whines and drops his head forward. Curls stick to his forward where a sheen of sweat had gathered. He’s gonna burst. He can’t hold it back. Not even if he wanted to. His primal instincts have taken full charge of his body and he pounds into the slick heat beneath him until finally, his mind blanks out when filthily sweet sensations shake him to his core. He spills inside of Tony, feels how his cum mixes with the now warm lube. How Tony clenches around him to not lose a single fucking drop.  Peter lets out a shaky laugh, in complete wonderment of how good this can feel. How much better this is than his own hand ever had been. And when finally, after what seems to be infinity, his eyes flutter open; he’s met with the deep, loving brown eyes of the man he’s been able to call his lover for the past three and a half years. 

“Peter,” Tony whispers, body limp and soft and spent. Arching into Peter’s warmth. Peter cracks a smile and carefully lets go of Tony’s legs, leaning down to cover the man’s body with his own. Their legs tangle together while Peter’s cock softens inside of the man. He doesn’t care it’ll make a mess. Peter hums quietly and grabs his blanket to pull it on top of them.  “Tony,” Peter whispers back. Tony smiles, suddenly shy. A feature that will always leave Peter amazed. “Was that too much?” Peter asks. Not out of insecurity, but because he wants to gauge how his boyfriend has experienced it. Tony chuckles, turning his gaze sideways. “No.” He pauses and shakes his head. “That was… Perfect.” “Yes,” Peter agrees. His hands gently massaging their way up Tony’s arms to undo the restraints. “I really, really, liked it too.” “The whole kid thing hit home, uh?” “Fuck yes,” Peter grins. “It’s so… You. But also a good different. It makes it feel natural even when it’s play.” “Agreed.”

Tony groans when he finally lowers his arms now that he is no longer tied to the headboard. His arms wrap around Peter’s shoulders, gently caressing him. Peter smiles, his cock now slipping out of Tony fully, and he nuzzles his face against the man’s neck to nib at the skin there. “You sore?” “If I say yes, will you treat me with a back rub and hot chocolate later?” “Of course,” Peter teases along. Tony beams and nods. “Yes. Very, very sore.” “Turn around then.” “Yes, kid.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Teeth

Tags:  @salamancialilypad  @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee  @ashintheairlikesnow   @haro-whumps   @moose-teeth @vickytokio​ @yet-another-heathen​ @orchidscript

@finder-of-rings

Chapter 5

CW: detailed description of intense stab wound pain (to the arm), fighting for their lives against giant spider, it as a pronoun in a very brief flashback, blood, powering through pain,

Sahars blood thrummed in his ears like drums heralding disaster.

Adrenalin spiked blood rushed through his veins.

His muscles twitched.

Every fiber of his being buzzed electric.

With feet barely connecting to the soft forest ground, Sahar felt trapped in the worst kind of flight.

The kind that had driven him through dark alleyways, reduced to prey running from its predators in a cage the size of a city.

He’d sworn to never forget the lesson he’d learned, back then. When the little boy he’d saved had ratted him out and sicked a seething horde of citizens onto him.

It had been a warm night back then, too. Like and unlike today in so many ways. 

Only that today, he knew how to fight. To defend himself. He was no longer a scrawny eight year old, trying to save a neighborhood kid from some angry teens, mouth running a mile a minute, words tumbling from his tongue, trying to sooth, to deascalet. But words hadn’t been enough, between them and their rage against a world that had banished them behind fences, trapped them in Berlin's slum. Words had done nothing against their butterfly knife. And it had sunk into his arm as they stabbed him, sliced through skin and muscle and planted a searing pain under his skin. His mutation had gone off, outside the safety of his mothers apartment and for all the world to see. What had followed, had been pure terror. 

That night had never stopped breathing down his neck, lurking around dark street corners or whispering from beyond his locked bedroom door.

Get it! I saw it dive behind a dumpster! Up the street, the little pest ran into the carpentry. Fuck, fuck we lost it. No wait! There, there it is. It jumped into the river! Then let it drown. Or drift outside the city. It’ll die there anyway.

Haunted, wide eyes flitted over the trees, nearly expecting a hate and fire spewing crowd to break out from between them at any moment.

Bitter fire taste burned on his tongue.

Sahars foot caught on a branch and he slammed into a flower stem. Hard enough to jostle him out of his vicious memory storm.

A painful dull throb pulsed through his shoulder. Nothing compared to a knife buried in his right arm, but enough to let his consciousness snap back into the here and now. Back into his shuddering body. Back between giant leaves and flower petals that rustled in the warm evening breeze. 

Sucking in a shaking breath, Sahar felt the axe’s weight in his hand. Heavy as the burden of his conscience. His panic subsided, morphed into something akin to stubborn righteousness.

No.

No matter what had happened back then, he’d done the right thing in saving that boy. And he would do the right thing now!

Even if it meant the whole village would find out. Even if Charlotte would hate him.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he turned his back on them. If he’d let them die while he hid like a coward.  

Not if he could do anything about it.

“You you you can do this. You’re no no no damn child anymore.”

You have an axe now.

An axe to slay an insect. The idea was hysterical, really.

An axe to turn a monster into a hero, maybe?

He ignored that small hopeful whisper, shoved it back deep inside the hole it had crawled out of and ran.

 Sahar nearly lost his balance as he dodged a branch, speeding down a mossy root right towards the clearings edge.

Children’s screams, shrill with terror, echoed from below, cutting through the forest’s silence like a rusty knife. They were so loud Sahar nearly missed it in between the first seconds of shock and his thunderous heartbeat.

This rattling, bone chilling hiss, biting and burying itself deep into one’s very core.

Every hair on Sahar’s body stood. Electrified with fear.

Could it be?

His chest crashed into a thick vine of ivy before he could react or bring his feet to a halt on his race down the slippery root.

Grabbing blindly for the vine, somersaulting thoughts scattering every which way, Sahar caught  himself somehow, avoiding a fall down the rocky hillside and meeting certain death as a graceless heap of flailing limbs.

Chest rose and fell with every shuddering breath. He allowed himself to just hang there, hidden within the thick ivy leaves, fighting to get his shaking legs back under control.

The axe’s handle threatened to slip from his clammy fingers and Sahar gripped on tighter, forcing himself to peer through the thick foliage.

A few feet under him, it’s pulsing hairy abdomen turned his way, it stood.

A giant wolf spider.

Its jaws rubbed together in endless agitation, creating this god awful noise.

Sahar wished he could scrub it off his skin.  His fingers twitched, rubbing frantically over the smooth wooden handle, as he stared and stared and stared.

Charlotte and the children had encircled the beast somehow, yelling and throwing whatever they could find on the clearing’s rocky ground at it in a desperate attempt to confuse it, keep it from attacking.

So far it seemed to work.

Whenever the beast's eyes looked onto someone, the kids from behind it would hurl stones and mushrooms at its back, forcing the spider’s attention onto themselves.

Its long thorny legs crashed into the ground, kicking dirt and gravel everywhere in its furios thrashing.

That’s when Sahar saw it. Its eyes. He hadn’t noticed at first, between all the movement and blue luminescent mushroom pulp dripping of its body.  But one of the spider’s eyes was missing.

The head hunter’s spider!

The controlling device, still rammed deep into its ugly head, had stopped blinking.

The machines malfunctioning must hurt. 

No wonder that thing is all over the place.

This was Sahars chance. Hurting, distracted and one eye short, the spider shouldn’t notice him. Not if he came down from above.

Clutching the Axe in both sweaty hands he raised it far above his head. And jumped.

Air rushed past his ears. A storm of raging blood roaring from inside, crashing through his head and drowning his every thought.

There was only gravity left.

Gravity pulling on his limbs, drawing him down faster and faster towards inevitable eight legged death.

But he fell too fast for all the thoughts and fears of disaster to possibly catch up to him. Utterly focused, for the first time in his life, every other thought, the fabric of reality itself ground to a halt.

The only thing still moving were the flexing muscles in his arms and the spider. Abdomen pulsing with its erratic heartbeat. If he could hit that, split the soft flesh there and spill all its blood and guts on the rocky earth, everyone else would live.

The muscles of Sahar’s stomach pulled tight, transforming his body into a bowstring ready to launch.

The children’s surprised shrieks faded to background noise. His biceps bulged, feet drawing closer, his whole body readying for impact.

When suddenly, a pebble, small like a penny, came free from the sole of his heavy work boots. And dropped. Hitting the spider mere seconds before he would. But for vicious instinct carved from hard moving flesh, seconds were more than enough.

The world narrowed to a flash of glistening lidless eyes and pain as a leg, heavy like a tree trunk, bashed him into the hillside. Sahar’s spine lit up in agony. Pain spread through his arm like wildfire. It took everything in him to keep it from exploding.

Just let it. Let it. Don’t waste your time holding back!

No! No no no no, I can’t.

I’m scared.

“Sahar!”

Charlotte’s shriek cut through the storm of his mind, a lighthouse siren guiding all his scattered thoughts in one direction. His eyes snapped open, met midnight black teeth, sharp like daggers and dripping poison. The creature towered over him. Its liquefied promise of pain dripped to the ground.

Sahar’s body felt heavy, a disconnected breathing stone, teetered to the hard earth.

“Sahar! For fucks sake move!”

His limbs had forgotten how to obey his commands. A silent scream existing solely behind clenched teeth. The neurons in his head all failed to fire.

My Axe? It’s gone!

His eyes dropped from the spiders clicking jaws, searching frantically between its thorny legs. As if that thing would do him any good now.

Not against this seething monstrosity.

Dirt danced under its body, swirling up with every shuddering gusts of hot air exhaled through the breathing holes along its abdomen, so hidden under its body Sahar would have missed them if he wasn’t practically cowering under that thing.

He could see children’s legs storming off to safety, scattering and disappearing in between bushes and behind mushrooms. Their bluish glow grew stronger with every second of fading daylight.

Good.

At least he had been able to save them, before-

“I said. Move!”

Charlotte charged at the spider, pale fingers wrapped around the Axe in a death grip. Debris crunched under her shoes, flying every which way.

The weapon swung back into a wide arc, twisting her whole body with the force of her attack.

There was a visceral sort of grace to her, in that moment, in the flexing of her muscles, in the way her soft pink lips twisted back into a snarl, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth.

She was fury incarnate.

Her conviction alone seemed enough to strike that beast down.

It jerked its abdomen high into the air, stubby spinnerets twitching, the only warning before it fired. A wave of white glistening silk erupted from its silk glands, hardening as it flew towards Charlotte. The force of the impact knocked her backwards and she crashed down, fighting for balance on one knee.

Only her head and right arm remained spared from the silvery, hardening restrains that bound her to the ground.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

The Axe’s blade barely left a dent in the silk as Charlotte struggled to cut herself free one handed.

Terror held Sahar’s heart captive, had it flutter and beat with all its might, trying to escape anxiety’s iron grip.

He watched in horror as the spider turned towards Charlotte, its remaining seven eyes flashing green in the mushroom’s glow.

Its mighty body tensed, a barely there tremble rippling through pulp splattered legs. The hiss of slowly opening jaws rung over the clearing, shrill like funeral bells.

“No!”

Finally, Sahars legs moved. Launching him forward with the force of a slingshot projectile. 

A gust of breath brushed his left shoulder, warm and surreally alive, as he dived past the spider's abdomen and dashed towards its mouth.

Its hairs tickled the crown of Sahar’s head.

Poison slicked fangs flashed in the last rays of dying daylight as massive jaws moved. Opened. Struck down. 

A tooth burrowed deep into Sahars right arm, slicing skin and muscle like a glowing knife would butter. He felt something hard crack and splinter inside him, felt the resistance and inevitable give of his bones as the fang pierced through.

Excruciating agony exploded in his arm, threatened to devour him whole.

His body’s torment broke free with a deafening crack.

The cells of his right arm crystalized. Growing muscles twisted and hardened into an impenetrable shield, crushing the fang still buried deeply in his flesh into a hundred pieces.

Venom welled from Sahars wound, dripped down solid skin, unable to pass the armor of mutated flesh.

He could feel the pressure of the spider’s tooth stump against the wound as it bared down.

New waves of pain welled up, crashed through him like a storm flood, drowning every other sensation, every thought.

Unrelenting jaws squeezed tighter still and tears trickled over Sahar’s cheeks, down his nose, falling to the dusty ground like raindrops.

The other fang graced his ribs. Threatened to break skin. 

Oh god. Oh please no.

Conjuring every last remnant of strength hidden in his muscles, Sahars pushed back. The spider’s cool hairy flesh gave under the press of his elbow, the tiniest bit, and its fang pulled back.

He hadn’t thought it possible for this pain to climb higher still, but here it was, whisking him away to a dimension composed solely of suffering.

The scream tearing from his throat didn’t sound like his own. But he could feel it, as it clawed its way out, bursting past his lips in raw desperation.

“Sahar?” The whisper of a voice found its way through the pain filled fog his existence had been reduced to and he forced his eyes open. Whimpering.

When had he even closed them?

Charlotte’s pale freckled face hovered centimeters from his. Splatters of blood trickled down the birthmark of her left cheek and dried in the copper curls of her bangs.

A faint, shuddering part of Sahar realized that this blood was his own.

Her eyes were blown wide and the blue of her irises danced in the surrounding bloodshot white of them. 

“What have you done? Oh god what have you done?” There were tears, imprisoned in the tremble of her voice.

I don’t know. My body just moved.

The words were nothing but a whisper in his head, unable to escape a body shuddering and hurting and trapped on the brink of collapse.

He knew how it felt to lose control, over his senses, his mutation, his emotions but nothing had ever felt like this. He’d never felt as disconnected, as betrayed from his own flesh as the moment his knees gave out and he crashed to the ground. The fangs tip tore through his linen shirt, soaking the fabric with poison.

Screwing his eyes shut in terror filled anticipation, Sahar didn’t see Charlotte’s face morph into a ferocious scowl. All bared teeth and fierce determination.

The Axe’s wooden handle splintered under short sharp nails and fury as she swung it, with the strength of 17 years’ worth of hard work living in her muscles.

The spider’s left jaw split with the sickening tearing of flesh.

Sahar’s red blood mixed with the spider’s blue in the dirt as it gushed from the wound and dripped down the Axe.

The spider’s nearly dismembered mandible flapped uselessly from side to side as it sprung back, unsure if to retreat or attack.

With the pressure of its jaws gone, Sahar collapsed onto the blood soiled earth. A few dirt grains danced in the gusts of his labored breaths and the tears Charlotte had so desperately tried to hold on to burst free without restraint The spider webs still held her to the ground as she began to frantically claw at the silken sticky mess, desperate to break free.

Sahars tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he rasped, “Hey. Hey hey hey ‘s fine….. fine now. Let… let me-”

Words failed him, all washed away by a new wave of hot boiling pain as he willed his mutilated, mutated arm to move, despite every fiber of his being wailing protest. Sharp pointy fingertips dug into the silk and tore it apart like a clawed animal clumsily disemboweling its prey. A howling hissing one at that.

He wanted nothing more than to get out of here and for this unbearable pain to finally, blessedly end.

Oh god please just make it stop.

Charlotte’s free hand found its way into Sahars brown unruly hair and scratched over his scalp in slow soothing circles. He leaned into the touch, this something-other-than-all-consuming-pain-feeling and whined softly.

“Shh shhh. Almost done. It’s almost over.”

He continued to rip the silk to shreds until Charlotte was finally freed. She shot up, dragging Sahar with her. He howled in agony.

Hunted blue eyes darted back to the spider, cowering low on the ground. Its seven eyes stared back, glowing in the mushrooms light.

“We have to move, Sahar. That thing‘s not done with us.”

He willed his shaking legs to stumble alongside Charlotte, when a shot rang over the clearing. Loud like a thunderclap announcing a storm.

Flinching hard enough to make him cry out Sahar witnessed the spider collapse. A thick metal stud pierced through its head, painting abstract patterns of dull blue blood and glowing mushroom pulp over its twitching body.

The ferocious predator transformed into a corpse bleeding starlight.

[minimicrofics]

Not So Super

Fandom: DC Pairing: Clark Kent (Superman) & Mxyzptlk Summary: Mxy decides to have some fun with his pal Superman.

Warning/tags: Anal, tiny!superman, Tiny man, Giant man, aware,magic, jacking off

…

It had been a rather peaceful day in Metropolis. The people were going about their day like normal and everything was calm.  Clark Kent was among those people going about their day. Working at the Daily Planet meant he got to be made alert as soon as something newsworthy or something needing Superman showed up.

So far nothing needing him OR Superman had popped up so of course, he was doing his natural job. Doing a coffee run for some of the other reporters. Leaving the coffee shop Clark stopped as he watched people run away in terror. Turning just a bit, Clark saw an entire skyscraper turn into a giant cardboard box while a man and woman had been turned into a pair of dolls. There was only one explanation for this.

“Aw! It’s so good to be back!”

Mxyzptlk.

Clark watched as the extra-dimensional man levitated off the ground and continued to zap everything and everyone in sight. He had dealt with Mxy before when he tried to get his cousin Kara to be ‘his’, luckily they had gotten rid of him. 

However, somehow he returned.

Letting the coffee drop from his hands, Clark grabbed at his shirt and pulled it open to reveal the house of el symbol on his chest. Using his superspeed he quickly zoomed off returning dressed in only his superman suit. He was quick to get many of the civilians out of the area so they wouldn’t end up changed like the others before returning to the imp.

“Mxyzptlk! I don’t know what you’re doing here or how you got back but you need to stop this right now!”

“Ah, superman! I was wondering when I would get to see you again! I hoped ‘playing’ with your city would lure you out. Glad to see I was right!”

“Well, here I am! Now I’ll send you back to where you belong!”

With that Clark kicked himself off of the ground and flew towards Mxy with his arms stretched out in front of him. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy fight and would have to trick Mxy into saying his name backward but he’ll knock him out first so he can at least stop the chaos for a bit.

“Oh, not so fast tights.” Mxy lifted his hand and Clark froze in the air. No matter how hard he tried to move he couldn’t.  “I told you before you got rid of me last time I would have fun with you when I returned and I intend to deliver on that promise.”

The imp snapped his fingers and Clark felt a surge of energy flow through him. Clark felt himself growing weaker and weaker. The Kryptonian began feeling dizzy as the world spun around him and he seemed to be falling. Everything was going so fast and before Clark knew it he had blacked out.

Clark opened his eyes and felt something soft both beneath him AND on top of him. It was a sturdy yet soft fabric that seemed familiar to him. He tried to use his x-ray vision to see through the fabric but couldn’t. It was then that Clark saw he was also naked.

“W-what happened? Where are my clothes?” Then Clark remembered. Mxy. “Oh no.”

Crawling through wherever he was, he finally got a glimpse of light. Once he exited through the hole, Clark was blinded by the light. Once he had regained his focus, Clark’s eyes went wide at the sight before him.

Metropolis was always huge, but now it was enormous! The skyscrapers were even taller than they had ever been before. Then Clark’s eyes settled on him. Mxyzptlk. The imp was now the size of a giant grinning down on him. Clark knew then what had happened, what Mxy had done to him. Clark had been shrunk.

Mxy squatted down to get closer to the shrunken superhero. “Aw look at that. You’re so adorable like this.” He used his finger to poke and prod at the tiny Kryptonian.

“Stop it! Grow me back right this instant!” Clark cried out. It only made Mxy laugh as he heard just how high pitched Clark’s voice was now.

“Oh, now THAT’S adorable.”

Mxy’s hand reached out going to grab Clark and the man tried to fly away. However, when he tried to take off, Clark was stuck on the ground. 

“Aw, what’s the matter? Superman can’t fly?” With that Mxy’s hand grabbed Clark and lifted the man up. He tried using his super strength to escape from the imps grasp but no matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to get the hand to budge. “Oh, I forgot! I also might have weakened your powers so much it’s like you don’t have them. Surprise!”

Clark wasn’t sure what to do. Without his powers what COULD he do?

“W-what are you going to do now?” Clark squeaked out.

“Like I said earlier.” The imp’s wicked grin grew wider. “Have fun with you.”

Wiggling his fingers, Mxy transported himself and Clark. Clark watched as the open streets of Metropolis morphed and changed into a bedroom, which he recognized as his own.

“I say, Superman...you sure do have good digs.”

“Don’t touch anything!” Clark shouted while trying to escape the grip he was trapped in.

“Oh, I’ll touch whatever I want thank you.” He let his giant finger rub over Clark’s shrunken cock. “Honestly I thought Superman would have a much larger cock...bigger than my finger at least.”

“Oh, I’ll show you something bi-ugh!” Clark couldn’t help but moan as he felt Mxy’s fingers rubbing his cock even more. It was almost like he was giving a handjob. “Uugghh. W-why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you are one of the most beautiful specimens I’ve ever seen and I think you’d make a wonderful toy.”

With a snap of his fingers, Mxy’s clothes disappeared leaving him naked and Clark lost his breath at the size of him. Mxy’s cock was almost triple the size of his whole body now! Jumping onto the bed, the imp ran his tongue over Clark who flinched away as much as he could.

“There. All lathered up for your new home.”

“W-what?” Clark was disgusted by being slobbered but what did Mxy mean about a new home?

Before he even tried asking, Clark got his answer by Mxy lowering him down and spreading his legs. Clark watches as Mxy’s hill sized cheeks spread to show his hole. Clark’s new home.

“No! NO! NO! LET ME GO! STOP THIS NOW!” Mxy chuckled and felt himself growing hard by the tiny hero crying out. He continued to push him closer and closer to his entrance. “STOP! STO-” 

And then it was quiet.

 The dimension jumper moaned out in ecstasy as he felt the tiny man push into his tight hole, squirming around like a vibrator. He grabbed his fast hardening cock and began to jack off as he watched videos of him changing people and shrinking superman. He always did find it hot and kind of a turn on using his powers. The entire time Clark was stuck and struggling inside of him.

As Mxy reached his climax he shot his load coating the ceiling of the room. “Ah fuck! Oh boy...that felt good. I’m definitely keeping you as my toy Superman, or should I say….SUPERTOY!”

Clark knew he wouldn’t be returned to normal any time soon...if he ever would be.

[zigtheeortega]

unrequited [part 3]

✿ pairing: bryce x mc

✿ word count: 6327

✿ warnings: innuendos, mention of drugs

✿ author’s note: well, this took a lot longer to finish than i expected (lmaooo). i kind of lost interest in open heart after seeing how horribly characters were sidelined, including my fav surgeon. i’ve worked on this on and off since april after i posted part 2, so this is like 4 ish months in the making. this series means the absolute world to me because it was the first time i was really confident in my writing. not as confident in the conclusion, but it’s been weighing on me for months, so i felt obligated to finish it! i hope you all enjoy it!

added my tags to the end bc there’s quite a few, so i’m sorry if i tagged you and you didn’t want to be – i’m going off of who asked to be tagged/asked for a part 3 months ago!

[read part 1 and part 2 here]

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

She slumped into the seat in the deserted waiting room, her joints popping as she stretched, her deep sigh echoing off of the tile. She was exhausted.

She could usually push through the worst of her shifts, but fatigue settled into her bones, a lethargy she’d never experienced entrapping her like a net, and she couldn’t fight her way out of it this time.

“Hey, Spence. What’s wrong?”

She glanced at the door, expecting to see his arm pressed against the frame of the door, slouched casually like he hadn’t a care in the world. Instead, Bryce was unusually close to her, standing right next to her chair, like he’d appeared out of nowhere.

“I’m just so… tired. It feels like I’m trying to sprint underwater right now and I don’t know why. I can’t explain it,” she watched him, gauging his reaction, but something was off.

“C’mon, I think I know exactly what you need right now,” his smile was Bryce’s, but the familiar twinkle of mischief and flirtiness in his eye wasn’t there.

He turned wordlessly, walking out of the door and down the hallway, which was a lot longer than she’d remembered.

She shook it off and trailed behind him, heart beating soundly in her chest. Was he bringing her to the on call room? To the supply closet? Maybe to an unattended office?

“So, where are you taking me?” She asked playfully, reaching out to link her finger in his, but she fell short, even though he was right in front of her.

He either didn’t hear her, or ignored her, walking straight ahead at the same pace. “Bryce, did you hear me?”

He didn’t pick up his pace, but she fell behind, trying to keep up, – to no avail. She looked down, thinking maybe – crazily – that she’d stepped into cement, slowing her pace to a crawl, or something else that was explainable.

But she was fine.

She pushed herself harder as she fell farther and farther back, Bryce’s stride never breaking.

She pumped her arms, leaning forward, trying desperately to swim through the thick atmosphere, practically pedaling against the ground to gain some type of momentum.

“Bryce? Bryce! Hello?” She yelled, as his figure got smaller and smaller, the hall literally stretching to accommodate the distance between them.

She watched as the wall space stretched, new door frames popping up, the number of rooms multiplying by the second.

He turned back for the first time as she clawed her way towards him, making no progress. “You gotta try a little harder for me, Spence.”

He smiled, not sinisterly, but just wide enough, lacking just the right amount of his effortless charm, that she got chills.

She jolted awake, the sound of her alarm interrupting her R.E.M. She snatched her phone off the dresser and tapped her screen, met with a brief silence before the distant noise of traffic – engines rumbling, and horns blaring below – filled her room.

She sat up, panting, her back slick with cooled sweat, the thin fabric of her top clinging to her skin. She breathed deeply, calming her quick pulse, until a muffled sound broke her concentration.

Her phone laid face down on her comforter, slivers of light peeking out of the sides. She flipped it, and her eyes widened in horror after reading Bryce’s name at the top of the screen, but even more so after watching the numbers tick higher and higher.

It wasn’t an alarm – he’d called her at 3 a.m.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you okay? You picked up but I didn’t hear anything besides heavy breathing.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just woke me up.”

“Right. Sorry.” He was silent long enough that she almost asked if he’d muted her. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“About what? You’re freaking me out a little bit,” she laughed once, but it came out as a scoff, and she kicked herself internally.

She didn’t want him to think she was mad. If anything, she’d been craving any time she could get with him.

They’d maintained a semblance of normality after the party, speaking to each other in the hallways, hanging out in groups, but they never unpacked their past conversation further.

She knew she’d said some profoundly batshit things while she was drunk, and vaguely remembered professing her feelings to him, but he never brought it up.

When she surprised the group with tickets to a music festival, she had ulterior motives. She wanted to get him as alone as she could in a sea of thousands. She wanted to make things right. But because Bryce was wholly intoxicating, she couldn’t do anything but live in their moment, the tough conversations – though inevitable – a million miles away.

They danced, they kissed, and she was enraptured by him. The way her hand fit into his own, the way his warm palm felt against her lower back, the way the cool tones of the stage lights bounced off of his bronzed skin, the way the smooth bass of his voice sounded as his full lips were nearly pressed against her ear, the way his smile was just crooked enough to be a smoulder and a smirk at the same time, and it was insufferable, but she adored it… Everything about Bryce was everything she’d ever wanted.

And she thought she was close to getting it back. She thought that’d be the end of it. They made up, and they could move forward. She wanted him, and he wanted her, finally.

But nothing came of it. He never avoided her, but he never stayed around long enough for her to bring up the night of the party.

The seed of hope in her chest blossomed, budding slowly every instance they spent enough time together to make it feel like when they were interns, the exhilarating sensation of hooking up freely a nostalgia she craved. She’d worked up enough courage to treat her situation dramatically – like in a movie – showing up at his apartment, wine in hand, ready to have make up sex and lay it all on the table while they were both sober.

The hope bloomed, coming to fruition when she surprised him, only to find that he’d been hiding his personal problems. It explained why he’d been avoiding her, she thought.

Bryce Lahela was a prideful bastard – one who couldn’t admit he needed a lifesaver until he was already sinking. He was in over his head, drowning underneath the pressure of fostering his kid sister, whom he had virtually no relationship with, all the while balancing residency – as well as… whatever was happening between them.

When she planned to spend her whole life making it up to him, she wasn’t bluffing. So when she saw the opportunity to salvage and strengthen the siblings’ relationship with something as simple as cooking pasta, she dove in headfirst, hand outstretched, eagerly pulling him to safety.

“Keiki’s gone,” he sighed, and she could feel his anxiety and overwhelming dread through that one deep breath.

“Gone? What do you mean ‘gone’? Did she go back to Maui?” She asked frantically, throwing her covers back, and began pacing the room.

“For all I know, she could be at the airport or across state lines by now,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve thrown her a going away party or something. Or at least given her a card,” she huffed, kicking at a dirty shirt she’d left on the ground.

“Well, it was kind of, uh, sudden.”

“That implies that it was out of nowhere. So she just bolted? Unprovoked?”

“I mean, it was a little provoked.” He said under his breath, just above a whisper.

“Bryce… what are you not telling me?” She asked, uneasy. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear his answer.

“We got into a fight –”

“And she ran away.” She finished for him.

“... And she ran away.” He said.

She could sense his shame through the phone, his voice getting weaker with every word. She slipped out from under the covers, and tiptoed to her closet, throwing on the first shirt and pair of pants she touched.

“You can explain why later, but right now we need to go find her. We can meet at the subway stop closest to your place. You can start by retracing her steps. Are there any corner stores she liked? Maybe a skate park? She seems like she’d be into that kind of stuff –”

“Spence.”

“Yeah?” “You don’t have to help me. I know things have been kind of weird lately. Don’t feel obligated to help me. This is my fuck up, not yours.”

“We can talk about ‘us’ later, Bryce. Even if we were on bad terms, you know I’d drop anything to help you and Keiki. I know you don’t have anyone to lean on.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath that she could barely hear over the slight static of the phone. “Thank you.” “You can thank me after we find her.”

––––

As soon as she stepped off the subway, Spencer hit a near sprint, trying to get to their designated meeting spot. The Boston weather was as unforgiving as ever, the chilled wind stinging her cheeks.

She ran towards the hole in the wall pizza joint that Keiki had told her about offhandedly the night they’d cooked together.

As soon as she saw Bryce’s form, she slowed to a jog, nearly breathless, both by the physical exertion and how awful he looked. His features mirrored the one she’d seen in the supply closet, his defeated expression a painful memory she’d worked hard to bury.

She’d never seen him cry before, but from the way his red-rimmed eyes nearly sagged, nose rubbed raw, lips tight, she felt emotionally spared by not being there whilst the tears fell.

“Bryce?”

“Hey, Spencer,” He smiled weakly, sniffling and rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Did you go inside and ask the owners if she stopped by?” “Yeah, they said she was here an hour ago. She stopped for a slice but didn’t stay long,” he said, shaking his head as he pulled his phone from his pocket, before tapping on his screen.

“Okay, that’s great news! She couldn’t have gotten far,” she said, before swivelling back towards where she came from. “C’mon, I hope you have your monthly pass. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Where to next?” He joked, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“First thing’s first, did you check to see if her location was on?”

“She never had it on in the first place. I guess she thought I’d show up and embarrass her or something,” he shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

They stepped onto the dingy subway car, nearly empty except for one other person who was slumped over in their seat, asleep.

“I doubt it. She has a soft spot for you, Bry,” she sat down, readjusting her loose sweatpants before doing so.

“If she did, then she doesn’t anymore. I think I really fucked up this time,” he said, more to himself than her.

He ended it there, so she decided to nudge him a little. “You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if I had some context.”

“No, no, I… want to. I trust you,” he glanced over to her, holding her eye for the first time that night. He inched his hand over to hers, cautiously, debating, she thought, before settling on rubbing his thumb up and down her pinky finger.

The dying bud in her chest bloomed once again, warmth spreading throughout her limbs at his touch, his soft gesture quenching the thirst her heart so desperately pined for. 

She blinked, eyes trained on his mouth, unable to tear her gaze away from his lips. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was good at hiding it.

“I said and did some things I shouldn’t have. Some things that might’ve reminded her of our parents,” he started.

She waited for him to continue, watching his chest shake as he tried to find the words between the deep breaths he took to calm himself.

“She’s taking after me, and I don’t like it. Not me, like Dr. Lahela, one of the best surgeons this world has ever seen –” a hint of a smirk curled the corner of his lip – “but like the rebellious, angry, reckless teen Bryce who just wanted… attention. From anyone.”

“So… why don’t you give her that?”

He blew out a sharp huff of air. “I don’t get her. And I’m trying really hard to. But there’s only so many hours in the day, and I don't think she felt like I was trying hard enough.”

“You got wrapped up in work like your parents did, huh?” She asked softly, placing her other hand on top of his, quietly lacing her fingers through his.

“Yeah,” he said, remorseful. “I just wish I could’ve kept my fucking mouth shut for once –”

“Hey, hey, stop that. You can feel as guilty as you want after we find her, but we have to stay positive right now,” she said, a bit sternly, covering his hand with her own, gripping it tightly.

He watched her face, searching for something. Maybe a crack in her sincerity? Ulterior motives? She wasn’t sure if he trusted people or not, and it perplexed her to think about it – she’d known Bryce for over a year and couldn’t name a single person that she knew he definitively trusted.

“Thanks, Spence. I really mean it,” he said finally, a little more relaxed than he was seconds before.

He checked his phone every couple of seconds, clicking the lock screen to check the time, before locking it again, just to repeat the cycle incessantly.

“Can I be honest about something?” He asked, staring straight ahead, brows furrowed.

“Of course.”

“I… ignored her. Just like they ignored me when I started acting out. I…” He shook his head. “I said I’d never be like them.”

“You aren’t, Bryce,” she affirmed, rubbing his shoulder blade in soft circles. “The fact that you’re out here searching for her says so much about who you are.”

“It doesn’t say enough.”

“What do you mean?” “Running away from home means nothing if I’m not better than them. Thousands of miles of distance and I turned out just like them,” he scoffed. “The fucking cycle repeats itself.”

“Bryce…” she shifted her body, facing him completely, while he stared ahead, not meeting her eye.

“Just because you’re not good with coping with all of this doesn’t mean you’re a bad brother.”

He turned towards her finally, attentive.

“Yeah, you tend to bottle things up until they blow up, but you didn’t ask for this. You’re not her parent – you’re her brother, first and foremost. You can’t put those expectations on yourself because you’re not them. You’re doing the best you can as her brother, not her parent.”

She laced her fingers over his, squeezing the hand she’d been holding. “You can’t fault yourself for making mistakes. This is new territory for you. You’re learning and she is, too.”

The doors opened in front of them, the only indicator that they’d made it to the next stop. They were both so engrossed that they hadn’t noticed.

“We should probably get out here,” she said, standing. She didn’t check to see if he followed suit, missing the way he watched her as he walked behind her.

They clopped up the stairs again, Spencer shivering despite her cozy getup.

“Do you want my headband?” He asked, digging into his pocket. “It’s really warm.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” she took it, pulling the thick band over her hair, snug against her ears, but comfortable.

“No problem,” he said, watching her adjust it, his eyes trained on the way she pursed her lips when she couldn’t get all of her hairs to lay down just right.

“We can split up,” she started, pointing down the main street across from the subway. “I’ll check the restaurants that are open down this way, and you can go the opposite way. I’ll text you when I head back –”

“I don’t want you walking alone, Spence,” he said, shutting her down immediately.

“We’re gonna cover more ground if we split up. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me,” she shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t handle the idea of you getting hurt while helping me look for my sister. Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft.

“Fine,” she sighed.

They checked a handful of diners, breakfast places, and even a bar, but with no luck. Even when Bryce flashed a photo from Keiki’s Instagram, no one’s eyes lit up in recognition.

He looked more and more defeated with each subway stop, his posture slumping, his lips set in a thin line.

She could feel herself deflating as well, but she couldn’t bear to show him she was quickly losing hope, too. No one was going to support Bryce the way he needed, except for her.

“Let’s stop by that skatepark. If she’s not there, there’s bound to be someone who’s seen her,” Spencer nodded resolutely, absentmindedly grasping Bryce’s hand and tugging him towards the stop.

“It’s no use,” he whispered, and she whipped around at the sound of his voice, his body grounded, like his feet were nailed to the ground.

“What’s no use?”

“This,” he gestured with both hands, tugging his chilled hands from her grip. “She doesn’t want to be in Boston. It’s my fault she hasn’t adjusted. I haven’t exactly been the best welcoming committee.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Bryce, she could care less where you live. She came here for you.”

His brows furrowed, his face contorting, his features scrunching like he was in physical pain. When he covered his face with his hand, without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him down to rest his face in the crook of her shoulder.

She whispered words of affirmation in his ear as he sobbed into her jacket, and she rubbed small soothing circles, doing her best to comfort him.

He’d never been this vulnerable in front of her. It was hard to decipher how he felt about things going wrong, his killer smile usually a convincing mask.

He pulled away after a while, his tear streaked face glimmering in the light. “Sorry. That was embarrassing,” he laughed shakily, flashing his teeth, just on the cusp of being a signature Bryce smile.

“Oh, shut up. I’ve cried in front of you before –”

“And it was embarrassing,” he teased, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A laugh bubbled from her before she could stop it. A body aching, chest heaving, breath stealing guttural laugh that shook her to her core because of how unexpected it was. That type of joy was nearly lost on her. It was so foreign compared to the past couple weeks, and it felt good.

He cackled with her, more so at the involuntary snort that ripped from her nose, less at his not-so-subtle roast. He grasped at his chest with one hand, gasping for air. “God, I’d willingly do appendectomies for a month straight if I could get a video of that snort. I’d snap everybody.”

Her eyes widened, his words triggering a memory.

“Oh my god,” she smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. She quickly opened her phone, navigating to the app she needed. “What? Is it bad?”

“No, I just realized she added me on Snapchat, so her location might be on,” she smiled to herself, opening up the geolocation map, seeing Keiki’s Bitmoji pop up – in the city. “Oh my god, Bryce, she’s still in Boston! Look, it’s her!” She hugged her phone to her chest. “She’s a couple of stops down but not that far away from us.”

He watched her with a confused expression, a little hurt, almost.

“What’s wrong?”

“... She never added me on Snap,” he nearly pouted.

She cackled again, covering her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking – real laughter. Another fleeting moment of pure joy was the eye of the storm, and she gladly basked in it. 

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” His mouth lifted at the corner, a knowing smile forming.

“Well, I got her phone number and snap in case she wanted me to show her around Boston, y’know, if you were busy,” she said between breaths, still coming down from her fit. “Or if she ever got tired of you,” she teased, the feeling of normality settling between them like there wasn’t a massive elephant in the room.

“How could you ever get tired of this face, though? I’m adorable,” he grinned, flashing her favorite 1000-watt smile that made her stomach flutter. “Nah, but really. Thank you. I don’t really know where I’d be right now without you.”

His eyes softened, the debonair facade parting just long enough for her to see what was undoubtedly her favorite side of him.

He laid his hand on her jaw, the warmth of his palm comforting, a striking contrast to the nipping cold of the night air. Both his touch and the temperature differences elicited a reflexive shiver from her, goosebumps raising on her arms underneath her jacket.

Part of her wanted to admit she’d shuddered solely because of his warm skin, because she didn’t want to inflate his ego – but there was no denying it. A single touch from Bryce was all it took to make her putty in his hands.

His gaze flickered to her lips, and he stretched his thumb to lightly drag the pad of it over her bottom lip, parted in awe. “Spencer…”

The tension thickened, their anticipation making it difficult to breathe. God, there was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to grab his face and taste him again. As much as she wanted to kiss him, it wasn’t right.

“Bryce,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering as she watched his tongue flick out to wet his lips. “You can kiss me after we find her.”

––––

The skatepark was nearly empty, the streetlights casting long shadows from the ramps onto the concrete.

“You’re sure she’s here?” He asked, wispy streams leaving his mouth as he spoke.

“Unless she dropped her phone here, she should be close by,” she nodded towards where a few scraggly teenagers were standing around, pungent smoke in the air.

“Keiki shouldn’t be out here with those dumbasses smoking weed out in the open like that,” he huffed, eyeing them as they walked towards the back, the grassy area coming into focus.

“Relax. I doubt she’s out here to smoke. You say that like you didn’t smoke too,” she raised a brow at him, challenging.

He pursed his lips. “Oh, so it’s like that.”

“What? You can’t go all dad mode and expect me not to play devil’s advocate,” she quipped, shrugging.

Before he could form a retort, Bryce held her arm back, stopping her in her tracks.

On the steps leading down to the grass, sat Keiki, headphones in her ears, tapping her foot as she dug into a bag of chips, crunching loudly.

Bryce looked absolutely helpless, like he had no clue what to do next – so Spencer stepped forward without a second thought, trying her best not to startle her.

When she was in her line of sight, Keiki’s eyes bulged from her head, and she nearly choked on her soda. “Jesus fucking christ, you scared me,” she coughed into the crook of her elbow. “What are you doing here? Did he tell you I left?” “I was worried about you,” Spencer said, evading the last question, trying to play it cool. Keiki hadn’t noticed Bryce at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, but how’d you find me?” She popped a chip in her mouth.

“If you wanna be harder to find, you gotta try a little harder than that,” she said, plopping down on the concrete stair next to her. “Snap maps.”

“I wasn’t trying to go off the grid or whatever. I just wanted some space. It’s no big deal,” Keiki huffed, scooting away from Spencer.

“Maybe so, but you can’t leave after a fight with no explanation. You’re too young to be out here alone this late.”

“You act like I haven’t been through worse,” she muttered.

“I know you have. But you can’t just walk out like that. Bryce is all you’ve got out here.”

“Oh, so you didn’t come alone,” she rolled her eyes. “He begged you to come, didn’t he? Did he not feel like coming himself? Did he have work or something?”

Spencer winced at Keiki’s tone of voice, simultaneously laced with seething rage and hurt. “No, he’s here. You need to talk it out.”

She set her mouth into a thin line, whipping her head around to gaze up at the top of the stairs, flipping him off.. “Go away.”

She gently grasped her wrist, pulling her hand down. “Please, Keiki. There’s a lot of things he won’t say to you, but I’ve heard them. If he didn’t regret what he said to you, I wouldn’t be helping him,” she pleaded, squeezing her wrist comfortingly.

Keiki glanced away, then back to her eyes, then back to the ground, unable to hold her gaze. “Okay.”

Spencer stood up, motioning for Bryce to come towards her. He met her halfway down the stairs, his gaze soft and admiring. “I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she smiled, reaching out to rub a hand against his arm. “Go work things out with your sister.”

He leaned in, surprising her with a soft peck on the corner of her upturned lips. “Thanks.” He winked and took the rest of the stairs two at a time, a spring in his step.

She watched as he bent down to sit next to her hunched form, nearly dwarfing her. Over the next twenty minutes, she focused on their backs, heads bobbing as they discussed and argued. They gradually relaxed, Kekei’s body unfurling from her condensed form, Bryce draping an arm on the step behind her.

And when they arose to walk towards Spencer’s place at the top of the stairs, they were both laughing, flashing the same grin.

God they were so similar – and didn’t even know it.

“I’m gonna wait over there while you two makeout,” Keiki grimaced, frowning as soon as her joke dawned on her. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Glad you’re back,” she called, but she was already throwing up a peace sign, back turned, probably not registering what she’d said.

The second they were alone, the nerves hit, the heat of his body next to hers already stifling. While she debated whether or not to meet his eye, he spoke.

“You wanna cash in on that kiss now?”

She glanced up, breath hitching in her throat when she realized how close his face was to her own. Her half lidded gaze was trained on his bottom lip, caught between his teeth. As soon as a quiet “yes” fell from her lips, he captured them in a searing kiss.

For a few blissful moments, the only sound between them were their soft sighs of contentment. She couldn’t remember if Bryce always kissed like this – so passionate and so enthusiastic, yet so cool, so suave.

Every methodical movement of his jaw was so practiced, so refined, she felt like underneath the flickering streetlight, in Bryce’s strong grip, she was the one he operated on, her chest reopened, her heart exposed. Everything she had to give was laid out on the metaphorical operating table, and as cheesy as it sounded, there was a chance he could save her.

The kiss was a reawakening for her. She knew what she had to do. She’d never been more sure of anything before.

She pulled back, their noses touching, as she whispered four words she knew he wouldn’t expect to hear. Maybe he’d forgotten what he asked her the moment it left his lips, but she was determined to mend what she’d broken.

“Ask me to choose.”

“Huh?” He panted, running a thumb across her jawline.

“Just ask me.”

“What do you choose?” He laughed, clearly confused.

“You. Always,” she breathed, tugging him forward by the collar of his jacket, sealing her promise with a kiss.

––––

On the ride home, Spencer sat cuddled up next to him, their fingers tightly wound – like they were afraid if the other let go, it wouldn’t be real. 

“Did I say anything… big to you while I was drunk?” She asked, breaking the silence.

Bryce chuckled softly, trying not to wake a sleeping Keiki, curled up next to him, somehow lulled to sleep by the loud, aggressive music blaring from her headphones.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Shit, I really thought I’d made that up,” she shook her head, covering her face with her other hand.

“Nah, you definitely dropped a bomb on me that night.”

“Bryce,” she whined. “Can’t you just tell me? I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Glad I’ve got you hot and bothered,” he grinned, teasing. “Well… you said, and I quote ‘I think I love you’.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she turned, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Did I really?” “I said it back.”

She looked up from her place against his shoulder, mouth agape as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Do you think or do you know?” She whispered, unsure if she wanted the answer.

“After tonight, I’m more sure than I ever have been,” he shook his head. “Probably more sure of this than anything else in my life right now.”

He used his free hand to cup her face, kissing her lips tenderly. She couldn’t remember a time he’d kissed her with that much care.

“So are you gonna say it first, or am I gonna have to?” He murmured against her lips, earning a surprised laugh from her.

“I’ve done a lot of your dirty work tonight,” she joked.

“Not the kind of dirty I’d prefer, but I’ll give you the credit you deserve,” he laughed as she swatted his chest. He pulled back, holding her gaze with no ounce of fear in his deep brown eyes.

“I love you, Spencer,” he said, his voice taking the most candid tone she’d heard from him.

“I love you, too, Bryce. I always have,” she said, feeling her throat constrict, voice cracking. “I should’ve told you sooner how I felt.”

“I think it happened at the right time. I wanted a lot from you when I didn’t even have my own shit together,” he shrugged, still cupping her face in his calloused palm. “I couldn’t even give what I wanted to receive, ya know?”

“Wow… that’s profound,” she said, in all seriousness.

“Oh, you’re making fun of the meathead for being smart now, huh?” He cackled. Keiki didn’t even stir next to him, despite his booming laugh reverberating throughout the empty car.

“No, no, I’m serious. That’s the most self reflection I’ve ever heard from you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my mistakes.”

“Me, too. But… we can work through that stuff if you want to talk it out,” she offered, cuddling up to him for warmth again.

“Is therapy your side hustle or something, Spence? Is there something you need to tell me?” He teased, tickling her ribs with his freehand.

She let out an ear piercing shriek, completely caught off guard. “Bryce! Stop it! Please,” she said between laughs, noting the way he smoothly slid his arm around her waist, so that when he stopped, they were closer than before.

“Can you two shut up? I’m trying to sleep,” Keiki grumbled, taking them out of their moment.

“Oh, so you’re exhausted from scaring the shit out of me. By all means, get your beauty sleep,” he said, taking the headband Spencer borrowed from him, slingshotting it directly at Keiki’s forehead.

“That’s it!” Keiki shouted, leaping up on the bench and grabbing Bryce in a headlock, scuffling with him while he most definitely let her win.

Spencer was thankful their car was empty as chaos ensued but she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the fight in front of her – they’d never done typical sibling things like that before. They were robbed of normality from such a young age, and a playful fight was a step in the right direction.

“Uncle, uncle!” Bryce called out convincingly, winking at Spencer. Keiki’s fingers were tangled in his hair, one of his arms trapped in the crook of her elbow. He swatted at her face, trying to get her to let him go.

“We don’t have any uncles,” Keiki said, chomping down on his hand.

“Ow! You little shit – I need these for work –” He hissed.

“Yeah, you didn’t think I was gonna go for the kill? Serves you right for underestimating me,” she huffed, hopping off of him and back into her spot on the bench.

“I won’t do that again,” he smiled softly, reaching over to tousle her hair.

The doors slid open, startling them all.

“I’ll go ahead so you can talk to your girlfriend. Bye, Spence,” Keiki said, waving, strutting out towards the stairs without a second glance.

Her heart swelled at the younger Lahela sibling’s use of the nickname Bryce coined for her.

“So…” She said, as they stepped out into the chill night air for the last time, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the tops of the buildings. “What do we do now?”

“What, after this thrilling conclusion to our months of back and forth?”

“Bryce,” she rolled her eyes, barely holding back a smile. “We barely even talked any of this out. I mean like… where do we go from here?”

“As far as I’m concerned, we’re clean slating it.”

“You don’t wanna talk about that stuff at the party? Or in the supply closet?” She winced. “Maybe when we wanna tackle that, but as of right now, I’m just happy to have you all to myself,” he grinned, snaking his arms around her hips, leaning in to press another kiss on her bottom lip.

“You don’t know how fucking badly I wanna bring you back home right now,” he murmured against her lips.

She groaned, lacing her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. “God, me too.”

“Soon as I spend some time with Keiki and can get some time set aside for us, I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he smirked, eliciting a shudder from her.

“I guess we’re dating now, huh?” She raised her brows, quirking her mouth to the side. “Don’t tell your roommates yet, please. I wanna see how long it takes them to put two and two together,” he said, a mischievous look in his eye.

“As long as you don’t tell yours,” she teased.

“Keiki’s definitely gonna notice we’re a thing if you keep showing up and leaving with wobbly legs,” he said, and raised a brow at her.

“Shit, you’re really flirty today,” she giggled, her face flushing because of both the Boston air and his innuendos.

“I’m making up for lost time, baby,” he grinned, pulling her in for what seemed like the hundredth kiss that night, but it felt just as incredible as their first supply closet makeout.

Although they had to part ways that night, both of them were rejuvenated in a way they hadn’t been in months – since they were noncommittally hooking up, secretly hoping the other made some kind of move to solidify what was between them.

And although it took way too fucking long for her to come around, Spencer was finally giving him what he deserved. Every single part of her. No distractions, no restraints, no excuses.

Every quip, every embrace, every kiss they shared that night nourished the flora of her heart, quenching her desperate thirst for his validation like a gentle summer rain, and she basked in it, head upturned like a silent thank you to the universe for giving her the chance to mend what she’d broken.

The vines that’d once had her heart in a constricting hold made way for the blossoming flowers; they’d both never forget their past mistakes, passion-fueled arguments, or the pain they’d endured at the hands of each other, but amidst those heated moments, amidst the beautiful disaster, their garden of love budded, a harmonious existence.

––––

tags: @beccadavenport ; @senatorraines ; @felix-hauville ; @messofakind ; @violinet ; @hudush ; @altairadtaz ; @agentdumortain ; @drsobemoji ; @levineseth ; @omgjasminesimone ; @lahellacute ; @doctorsurferbro ; @eleanorbloom ; @tarajoyful ; @bobbysmckenzie ; @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy 

[cinebration]

Choose Where (Victor Zsasz x Reader) [Part 6]

This idea originated sometime during a video of Chris Messina dancing.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Tagged: @im-just-one-of-the-avengers​, @strangeaddiction1306​, @vaaalexandra​

Warnings: violence, blood, language

Gif Source: rafikecoyote

It didn’t matter if they were small and intimate or classy and refined—you were always uncomfortable at parties. Maybe because when you were growing up, your father used you at parties to pick pockets and distract the hosts. Or because you had never been invited to any.

Either way, when Roman announced a party early in the year, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You tried to beg out of it, but he insisted.

“And make sure you buy something classy,” he told you.

Nothing he had ever said to you had made you want to pummel his face as much that statement did. Swallowing your rage, however, you took some of the leftover bonus money you had given yourself for all your hard work as his CFO—you had filed paperwork, because you were tired of still being called an accountant—and went to one of those fancy shops you never even bothered looking at.

You walked out with a modest black dress, the material sleek. Silver threading crawled up the right side of the dress above a mild slit that stopped mid-thigh. When you put it on, you could see the scar on your collarbone distinctly.

You arrived at the party thirty minutes after the start time. Roman had rented out a venue so he wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of dressing up the club. A vaulted ceiling with tasteful chandeliers hanging down like dew droplets soared above you as you stepped into the ballroom. Circular tables encircled a large, rectangular dance floor on which several couples already swayed to music. A big band played on an elevated stage at the back of the room.

Awed, your unease momentarily subdued, you wove among the tables, looking for a seat. There were no name cards, leaving you to decide where to sit.

You didn’t get a chance.

Someone made a strangled sound behind you. You spun around to find Zsasz staring at you, lips parted in surprise.

“What?” you asked.

He reached out and touched the threading running down your side, tracing it with his fingers. “It’s like a beautiful scar-piece,” he breathed.

You snorted at the pun and looked down at where his hand pressed against the material. “Yeah, if I had to be scarred that much, it would be nice if it were patterned.”

He looked up suddenly, staring intently into your face. Shocked by his intensity, you deflected, “If you’re going to keep your hand on my waist, we might as well dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Then…let go.”

He frowned, his hand tightening. His thumb traced over one of the embroidered curls. “Fine. I’ll dance.”

Leading you out to the dance floor, he did his best with the dance posture. You struggled not to laugh. To keep his hand on the pattern, he had inadvertently established himself as the female partner. You decided to keep it in your back pocket for a rainy day.

He pulled you close, enough for him to feel the sleek material against his frame. He wore a white silk shirt of his own under a black blazer. You had to give Roman one credit: He knew how to dress his man.

In your heels, you were eye-level with Zsasz. You hadn’t noticed before just how short he was, though 5’9” wasn’t that short, you admitted. It occurred to you that the only times you had been this close to him, he had been cutting you up. You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“Will Sionis be jealous if he sees us?” you heard yourself ask.

Zsasz tensed for a moment, then relaxed. “It’s a party.”

It wasn’t an answer, but you let it be. Instead, you studied the scars lined up along his neck.

“You did all of these, didn’t you?” you asked quietly. You brushed your finger over them to clarify.

He shivered beneath the touch. “Yes.”

“What for?”

The soft jazz horn trilled behind you as you both swayed past the stage.

“They’re for each kill,” he answered. He dragged a finger across the scar on your clavicle, leaving a trail of burning nerve endings.

“You were a touchy child, weren’t you?”

“What do you mean ‘touchy’?”

You laughed at the hard note in his voice. “Like, you had to touch everything.”

His lips peeled away from his teeth. “Yeah, I did.”

“I can tell.”

“Zsasz!”

Zsasz stilled but didn’t let go, glancing over his shoulder. On the other side of the room, Roman waved him down.

“Your master calls,” you muttered.

He relinquished you, backing away. You hadn’t realized how warm he had kept you until his body no longer pressed against yours. His hand was the last to leave you, fingers dragging over the threading. With something akin to regret, he slunk away.

You slipped out of the venue after dinner and Roman’s self-congratulatory speech. Zsasz had circled back to you once or twice, sometimes passing by just to run his palm down your side. When you realized you had stopped minding the contact, you knew it was time to leave.

Outside, the frigid night air chilled you to the bone. You stepped up to the curb, looking for a taxi.

Footsteps sounded quickly to your right. Before you could see them fully, the hooded figure snatched at your clutch.

“Fuck off,” you shouted, yanking back without thinking, refusing to relinquish it.

He pulled hard, forcing you against him. Thrashing against his chest, you slammed your heel down. It met skin and bone, gouging out his shin and sinking into his foot.

He screamed.

Shoving him away, you staggered a step back, readying yourself to kick him again.

“You bitch—”

His eyes went wide as he flew backward. Zsasz threw him to the ground with a roar, immediately dropping down on top of him. He punched the man in the face, smashing his nose with a sickening crunch.

You watched with an uneasy detachment as Zsasz pummeled your assailant. It wasn’t until you saw the knife flash in the darkness that you snapped awake.

“Stop.”

The man shrieked as the blade bit into his cheek.

“Stop!”

You seized Zsasz’s arm, pulling it away from the man. Zsasz glared at you, wild-eyed with fury. You pulled again, trying to drag him off.

“Let him go,” you pleaded. “He just wanted my money.”

Victor snarled as the man whimpered, gurgling on his own blood.

“Victor,” you implored.

The sound of his name drew his attention. He was breathing heavily, shaking with adrenaline.

“He’s learned his lesson.” You tugged on his arm again, slowly pulling him away. “He didn’t hurt me.”

The man struggled to get to his feet. You tightened your grip on Zsasz as he watched the man stumble away.

“I shouldn’t have walked out here alone,” you said, more to yourself than to Zsasz. “I could’ve called a cab and waited inside.”

“I’m taking you home,” Zsasz growled, pocketing his knife.

“I can get—”

“I’m driving.”

Taking you by the wrist, he led you back to the venue and barked for the valet. The valet scrambled to bring the car around front. Zsasz snatched the keys from him as you slipped into the passenger’s seat.

The silence in the car was deafening. It weighed down on you as Zsasz’s palpable anger radiated off his body to your left.

“I’m fine, Victor,” you assured him, unsure of what else to say.

He shook his head, knuckling down on the steering wheel. He didn’t say a single word the whole ride. You fidgeted in your seat, infected by his agitation.

When he pulled up to your apartment, he threw the gear into park and stared out the window.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reaching for the door.

He grabbed your wrist, stilling you. “You’re okay?”

“It scared me,” you admitted slowly. “It always does.”

He looked at you sharply. “This has happened before?”

You blew out a sigh, glanced out the window at your apartment complex. “I’m always afraid.” It’s part of being a woman, you wanted to say, but you knew he wouldn’t understand. Instead, you added, “I’m always alone. That makes people think I’m easy prey.”

His hand tightened on your wrist, but you pulled it free anyway. “I would’ve been okay, but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t glad you showed up.”

He blinked. You realized that when he wasn’t hopped up on sadistic glee, his eyes were like those of a deer.

Climbing out of the car, you retreated to your apartment, hoping that Zsasz wouldn’t track down your assailant and kill him.

Then again, if he did, at least you wouldn’t have to see it.

[thelostandforgottenangel]

Nightmare AU: Part 1 - Escaping the Ward

@under-the-scarlet-reign88 @fyreball66 @betelgeusessonajblog @blossom-skies @narwals14 @bluesakurablossom​ @kokokatsworld​ @midnightrebel669​ @lonelyheart-clubband​ @missbeautyandherbeast​​ @midnight-chocolate-turtle​​ @myheyheyheystuff​ @nikitaboeve​​ @mistyroselove​​ @waterstar2016​​ @nights-legacy​​ @janna-the-breaker​​ @missmagellanic​​ @darksaphire2002​​ @aurora-the-kunoichi​​ @moonlightflower21​​ @queendice98​​ @infintyfandoms @ravn-87​​ @bmntgirl​​ @vixie-chan233 

I will apologize ahead of time! My dreams are very fucked up sometimes and well - this might be a bit jumpy or unclear but for typing it in the middle of a panic attack after finally waking up from this I am just happy I survived this dream *Sighs* It was a bit traumatic so everyone enjoy

Also sorry it took forever for me to post kinda took forever to locate the folder a moved by accident with trying to keep up with kids

Place: New York City, Sack's Institute, Lab D6

Time: 5 a.m.

The small girl looked out past the corner before slipping out into the empty hallway, trying hard to be quiet so as not to draw attention to her. 

A grimy duffle bag was kept tucked under one arm and cradled close to her body while making several soothing sounds under every breath she took to keep her precious cargo quiet as she cried for the loss hanging heavily on her heart

If they wanted to live to see freedom, if she wanted to give the babies a chance to see something besides stone walls and bars the young girl would not be able to break down 

She did not have time or the privilege to stop just yet; her mourning had to be pushed to the back burner.

Still, the tears fell in silent streams while sneaking down the destroyed hallways of the only place she had ever known as home.

After what felt like an eternity of tests that had been run on her exhausted body the night before, she realized there was no more time to waste 

As night had fallen across the city none of them could sleep knowing something was wrong; the atmosphere in the building was wrong. The screams echoing down the halls had each of them nervous to close their eyes even for a moment.

The younger three finally took comfort she would stay awake curled up on her lap as she bounced the babies waited patiently until all the kids were asleep.

Gradually getting to her feet once she was confident the kids were out cold and safe in their nest, the small female turned to slip out through the wall at the back. 

Sneaking around outside wasn't too hard since it seemed quiet tonight, sticking to the dark cast onto the ground of the storm clouded morning until she finally made it to the garage.

There were no guards posted near the yard this early; most were probably at the meeting for the new specimen she had been hearing whispers about for days from the guards meaning she had a lucky break while starting the closest vehicle

It was a slight struggle figuring out how to get it to move but did what she could remember seeing the guards; finally backing one of the trucks just off the edge of the cameras after hitting the building and rolling forward once more, giving only enough room they could get in without being noticed

Now her plot was in motion; she was going to get away from this place if it was the last thing she did. 

Having been here for a few years after her family had sold her into the endless lapse of torture and testing they ran daily were more then enough motivation to make anyone want to run, and if she was going; there was no way she was leaving this place empty-handed

The girl was planning on getting out as many subjects as she could; once she was sure it was safe, she had ducked back under the overgrowth, squeezing through the hole that led outside from their cell only to find when she got through the hidden shaft the kids were gone from their nest 

They had been there when she left, now she worried they were hurting them and rushed out the now open cells to find the babies, not caring for her own life once she was out the cell door.

Entering the silent intersecting hallway made it very clear this was not a typical day within the prison.

The building she had known as her home was in ruins.

Paper files and the medical carts had been thrown about in whatever had ripped throughs rampage.

Noticing too late red gore pooled around the bodies that were being left in whatever had gotten outs murderous path, almost tripping over one as the lights flickered.

 On any other day, there would have been screams of pain from the experiments, the low buzzing of those awful machines; instead, dead silence had thickened the air so much oxygen no longer seemed to exist around her

The closer she got to the labs, the more blood seemed to be smeared over the walls or splattered across the floor from the victims that had tried to run, making it clear whatever had done this found her it had no humanity left and; if located she would be joining the dead at her feet

That only narrowed the list to everything in the building over the age of ten. No big deal!

She finally heard something but not what she wanted; the screech of a terrified woman in front of her made the girl dropped down behind a wall breathing slow as she pressed herself flat just wanting to absorb into the wall as whoever it was bolted past her only seconds later yelling for help, a large black silhouette followed and seemed to be gaining until the screams were cut off

Something akin to fear kept her there until she forced herself to take a breath before pushing her body up - then kept running, praying whatever it was did not hear her leave.

After being sure nothing was there inside the laboratory where she had been tortured since day one stepping forward inspecting the area before getting to the cages. 

This was still done in complete silence, hurriedly searching in a panic, pleading to an unearthly entity willing to listen to the discarded pleas that she was not too late before relief hit her

A sweet little face was at the front of one cage almost instantly “Daenery!” the smiling face through the bars was a welcome sight even as the girl rolled her eyes at the nickname the children had given her 

Since the subject tags were what they were known as she grew used to it, but in secret, they had given each other names to not become like the forgotten. 

It was a way to remember one another if they died-

The thin boy was squinting to see her better as soon as she grabbed his hand that reached between the bars, she knew even though they had messed up his eyes to the point he was close to being completely blind, the boy was still scanning the area watching her back

The mutant held tight to her arm as she jerked the door 

breaking the wrecked joints that looked to have barely held up to whatever was trying to get in after him.

He scrambled out the second she had it open, wrapping the little boy in a tight hug; her voice stayed low promising him it was going to be okay when she saw how scared he was.

He was a few years younger then her and still knew not to make any noise when usually, he was a chatterbox if scared or nervous but in the labs; they had never heard him speak once, their captors thinking the child was mute like a few of the other kids

They had two options here, and even at this age they both knew it was either: they got caught and locked back up in the cells or they would be killed 

Neither was an option.

His big honey brown eyes had started to look around them when she handed him his broken goggles to better his vision but blocked him from looking with her hands whispering under her breath so softly she was not sure he heard her “Eyes stay here – do not look away from me no matter what understand brainiac?” she waited until he finally nodded holding tight to her baggy shirt with his thin fingers while searching holding him close to keep the boy from seeing what she could

It took some time, but eventually, she found another cage still closed with a small form inside lying in a motionless heap with his back to her as she forced the grate open, snapping the lock then reaching in to flip him over; the girl started patting his sliced cheek even if it did her no good

The second boy was a bit bigger then the child she had just freed but still relatively small and looked to be heavily sedated; indicating when they came to take all of the children, he had put up a hell of a fight “Hey hothead… come on, I got you kiddo” the dulled golden eyes shifted a bit just to looked through her, she gathering him up in her arms whispering he would be okay a third child crawled into her view wondering if he had been on the tables when everything went down; like usual he just seemed way too calm “Fearless… oh thank god” happy to see him alive, both hugged him tight for a long moment; finally feeling him squeezing back when it dawned on the kid who was holding him

The third oldest tried to tell her what had happened, how the guards had come in to find she was gone then attempted to take them before she returned thinking one of the night guards had grabbed her but was silenced as she waved her hand consoling him quietly to sound hopeful that it was almost over

She could hear something outside looking up at the same time as the eldest boy grabbing them and pulling the three to hide until the noises were gone.

Her heart was heavy in only locating three of the seven lives she had been assigned no matter how much the girl searched the destroyed lab; knowing they were the last of fifty kids who had been punished for not raising to the expectation of the bosses at the final evaluation seeing the other cages were empty or had been ripped open violently

The only evidence someone had been in there were a few claw marks and streaks with blood.

They might be all that was left-

The last cage on the wall held a small baby – one of the two she had been searching for was long expired after what they had done while she wasn't there to protect the children, the guilt reduced the young girl into a sobbing mess

Gathering the children in the broken state took a minute while trying to pull herself together, hard as it was; there was nothing she could do for her baby sister except keep her promise; carefully wrapping the tiny body in a cloth forming a sling to tie the bundle to her

With the help of both boy's she got the second child upon her back, he was almost too heavy for her to carry they would never get anywhere dragging him down the halls "Stay close and no sounds" she got two slow nods before heading down the corridor hurrying past the breeding room hearing screams from within as something ripped through the room

Reaching the main floor for the building; they all skid to a stop when the girl held up one hand, at first it was just an uneasy feeling until heavy footsteps could be heard coming from somewhere in front of them, immediately pushing both behind the welcome desk before it saw them 

Kneeling to the ground; she somehow managed to keep the two boys focus on her as she waited for it to leave 

A deep growl shook the air right behind them almost pulling a whimper from the youngest before her hand was over his mouth, drawing him close as the other kid shifted silently to protect his back, just waiting until it either found them or took off in the direction they had just come from each of them letting out a shaky sigh when it did the latter moments later grabbing both making a run for it before anything else stumbled across the group

They could not stop moving even if when the thinner male started breathing hard, fighting to keep up as his body started to give in to exhaustion.

Realizing he could no longer keep up made the oldest stop checking for danger as he took him on his back then kept running, staying on her heels the best he could.

She swore she smiled upon getting them to the safe room unseen and undetected handing the keycard she stole off so they could all run in without being seen locking the door behind them 

As soon as she had covered up the boys with a blanket and placed the baby in a small crate, she pleaded for them to stay on the couch and rest; finding a first aid kit she started cleaning the deep cuts that now marred the second boys face, bandaging it to keep any infections from forming

Waiting would be hard; but once the sky grew dark enough for them to get out unseen she would tell them to run for it, there would be no looking back; they would have to be fast and keep going even if they lost someone

Leaving would mean getting out of the city for good and being they could probably not survive for long without food given they made it out - she had to find sustenance to hold them until they reached a safe place to stop

After dumping out boxes to carry everything in she started to gather supplies to run them; breaking the vending machines open, stuffing any food or drinks in sacks and boxes while feeding the kids at the same time letting them indulge in the sweets they were never allowed to have, placing each container close to the door to be taken out 

She felt a slight tug on her gown as she let a few tears fall for her babies looking over to find Leo at her side nuzzling her cheek as she cracked the tiniest bit; that was when the eldest told her the fate of the youngest boy, how they had left his in the far cell as bait after taking the rest of them

They had put one of her babies out there unprotected to draw away the creatures to save their hides even though it looked to have not worked in their favor.

There was no thinking it through, yes it was a stupid move but she just knew he was still alive; leaving him in-charge she made sure they understood that they were not to move from that room before the girl slipped out from the sanctuary of the break room making sure the door latched before taking off towards the cells 

That was the only reason she was out there now- 

If there was even a small chance he was still alive; she had to save him 

Every little sound had her paranoid jumping at anything

Turning one corner only to dropping back instantly, she slipped under a desk as someone came running down the hallway holding her breath when something followed them seconds later, hearing the horrid screams and crunch of braking bones left her trembling and not moving until she was sure it was safe

when she finally crawled back out she had to avoid stepping in the fresh streaks of blood heading back in the direction it had come being so quiet when she noticed it was feeding in the open

They were multiplying in numbers from the looks of things making it harder to not worry she would never make it to the cell or back for the others

She took a slow deep breath waiting until it was distracted before shooting across her steps inaudible as she bolted silently getting down the next hall in no time, her hands shaking when she ducked into the cage just before something passed staying there for what felt like a lifetime hearing it slow then continue on its way, slipping out she went to the furthest enclosure seeing the puddles of blood on the floor 

She was near screaming when she saw a something move in one tiny nest; shooting forward she found the small curled up bundle safe and sleeping soundly under several blankets where they must have left him as if nothing was wrong, gathering him close to her chest she started kissing his cheeks whispering so softly as he yawned then dosed right back off ever the heavy sleeper as always “I’m sorry – I am sorry I didn’t find you sooner Sunshine – but it's okay now I- I’m going to get you out of here”

She may have been too late to save her six-month-old baby sister but she had managed to get to him; finding her bag where she left it she noiselessly dumping out the collection of treasures that it held before making a nest with a blanket placing the four-year-old inside with his torn up bear somewhat happy he was so small even for his age zipping it up leaving a tiny opening to let air in and out before heading down the passageways  

The darkness could hide anything and everything in that moment her body staying low to the floor as a growling came from the left stopping only long enough to be sure it wasn’t coming in her direction before peeking around the corner seeing the figure was halfway inside the room towards the middle of the offices bolting immediately careful to avoid any small objects that could give away the child’s presence 

All the training they put her through; all of them through didn’t seem like much of a burden now, even if the overseers had nearly killed her and the kids each day until they knew each and every torturous lesson by heart

The shadows were her friends, never trust anyone besides the ones in your group, protect the young at all cost, the silence of mouth and body was the key to living, and you screw up once no matter how small; you died-

If only the grown-ups had learned those lessons, they might have survived the attack

Her pale ice blue eyes searching everywhere unsure if anything else had escaped when the cells opened after the alarms started moments after entering her cell; as she made it to the halfway point all the girl was praying for was the slayers were still in the runs out on the yard and not roaming free looking for an easy meal

It was a bit of a journey, but relief flooded her body upon finally making it to the door when she heard a whimpered cry. 

Being locked up there; experiments were trained to not have fear raised to not know safety or the luxury of a secure home yet fear still welled up thinking the tiny life she had grabbed from enclosures was waking up immediately she started to make the soothing sounds again as she peaked in only to realize it wasn’t the child she had just saved 

He was gone to the world - probably dreaming some kind of sweet innocent imagination with kittens and candy in a field of flowers and stuffed animals

Looking to the left as the sound came again she saw her friend Arya cowering down a hallway waving her to hurry and follow her but the girl wouldn’t move leaned on the wall as if something was keeping her cornered

Arya wasn’t one to cower she wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone; coming from a powerful family who ran part of the city after leaving India at one point, she had been raised to be completely independent, of course, that had been before the chemical attack 

She was from money so the woman always dressed nicely; lots of colorful fabrics to her intricate silk dresses, golden chains, and jewelry adorned her hands, her long black hair shined it seemed no matter how little light and her honey tanned skin was something to marvel at coming from somebody who rarely saw the light of day other then through the bars of a small window if she could climb high enough

She had worked there for a little over a year as an apprentice under the superior but was still a kid for being sixteen; sometimes, on her breaks between the experiments, she had come to the containment cells to play with the babies and give food to the caregivers who were never old enough to request simple supplies from the guards but considered mature enough to care for the younger collections

Better than being a breeder, way better than being one of the carriers in any book

She had to be the strongest woman she had ever met yet right then - she looked petrified, her eyes darting from side to side like she didn’t see the small figure, slowly weighing the options and looked behind her being sure nobody had found them the girl slowly left the door her fingers brushing its smooth cold surface scurrying fast towards the woman something in her gut telling her this was wrong but she needed to get to her

She might be the only one who could get her out with the set she had gathered 

She called out under her breath continuing to remain hidden until she could tell the coast was clear, slowly inching out into the light calling out again a bit louder gaining the woman’s attention but when she looked at her she saw something wasn’t right in her eyes swallowing hard as dread settle in her gut knowing she had just ignored several of the rules that had been beaten into her system for years

The woman’s body drooped as she stood up when the girl stumbled back before a small smile lifted the pale lips of her friend, the brown eyes shifted to white and her tan skin took on a sickly gray color as she screeched out a horrid wail

She was a carrier- they had gotten her like all the others

Spinning on her heels the child rushed back down the hall as fast as she could; hearing the thing behind her closing in she made the next mistake of looking back and seeing it was getting closer, realizing now she would never make it to that door but knowing the boys were in there waiting for her screamed she had to unless she wanted them to die right here 

Reaching for her hip she grabbed the heavy firearm she had stolen from one of the guards bodies when she had entered the building through the vent hatch 

Having only wielded one in tactical training she had seen it used on many of the older test subjects that had gotten out of hand if they survived the slayers in the hunting grounds and knew if used right it could hurt anything-

It could kill if needed. 

The young girl didn’t even hesitate when she turned to pull the trigger shooting what used to be Arya between the eyes seeing her friend hit the floor motionless 

Panting and shaking she only turned as she heard the howling bouncing off the walls getting to the door as the body started after her again having gotten on its feet 

The door lock disengaged with the swipe of the keycard slamming the door fast behind her before two heavyweights slammed into it before looking down into her duffle as something squirmed around

The youngest of the boys gave a small cry making her shush him while laughing to herself unable at that moment to believe she had just outrun two creatures while turning to check on the older three before seeing several scientists in the room – and her kids gone 

The gun was loaded and aimed before they could move; growling under her breath not letting them close to her “WHERE ARE THEY!?!” one of the males had started towards her before she fired

It was at this moment she found a fun fact and untold part of the humans who kept them as guinea pigs, they didn’t get up when she shot them, an intern that had hurt her several times tried to grab her having been standing behind by the wall but he didn’t count on her strength

The men never did when it came to her small stature but add in her protective mommy gene of the kid's she loved she threw him to the floor showing no mercy in putting him down hence leaving an older woman and two girls who had to be in their early adultage standing closer to the walls, looking around her wild eyes landed on the three trembling boys along with an older male she had never seen in her time there but it was clear he had been made a pet

Only the higher-ups were allowed to have them

The guy defiantly looked older and was quite clearly not entirely human given the larger size, the white hair, coal-black eyes, and the twitch of furry ears also gave her a clue; also meaning he had to be 

significant if he had not been killed when he reached of age, like most mutants, once you hit the rebellious stage; you were put down for their entertainment unless you were useful 

and usually, that usefulness wasn’t held for long

Being the only one with a gun gave her the upper hand moving forward two of the women in lab coats moved huddling to the side as she checked the kids over; the second oldest was now awake and very much aware of his surroundings growling at the women his nose bleeding from being struck but had stayed protectively in front of the other two boys

Jillian; or rather the blood queen as she had heard the older woman called by the older experiments was somebody the girl knew well and probably the one who had hit the growling boy seeing as his wild eyes hadn’t left her, the wife to one of the higher-ups she had tormented her many times in the darkroom and it was clear by her stance she still thought she had control over the subjects ordering the small girl to give her the weapon

All it got was her holding it higher as the boys pulled the baby from her bag keeping the youngest protectively in the middle of them as the girl drew back the slide; not wavering in her stance to keep her away until she backed down not too happy a freak was defying her orders

She didn’t show it but she was freaking out knowing there was no way to safely get out with the woman and her assistants in the way; going out that door would possibly result in one of them probably shutting her out either without the supplies or the kids, they couldn’t go back the other way without being ripped limb from limb 

Slowly reaching down, she set to undoing the collar around the teenager's neck hoping he wasn’t loyal to the woman; letting it drop to the smooth tiles giving him a small reassuring look before she was tending to the kids once more

Her hand was instantly lifting the darkest of the fours little chin looking him over, taking notice he was going to have a black eye; ripping her tattered gown the girl took great care in gently wiping the blood from his cut face, her cold hands cradling his cheek looking up to see the hard gaze he was giving her, it only made a smile break the corner of her lips knowing the look was not for him being angry towards her it was just the only expression he knew at this age 

This life hadn’t shown him how to smile but getting out had the hopes of that changing soon

Kissing his head the younger mutant shifted nuzzled into her arms, clinging tightly to the female; something he never did around the others nestling into her soft chest while mumbling roughly under his breath they thought she was dead, his voice was so low she was the only one who heard it making reassurances spew from her lips

She wouldn’t die when they needed her

She had to get them out of there and soon this place wasn’t safe at all looking back seeing one of the women knowing she was much kinder when nobody was around understanding kindness wasn’t accepted in this world but it made them trust her a bit more then they were comfortable with 

She had been nuzzling the boys assuring them it was all going to be okay when the male growled threateningly, attempting to push her behind him only to yelp as he was struck with a long stick being rectified for daring to snarl at his master, the girl stiffened pushing the kids back as the elder grabbed her by the hair yanking her away from them trying to grasp for the weapon

The pained cry that left the girl as she tried to escape resulted in the older woman getting her hand cut by the quiet boy looking over finding something she had not seen until now, yet he had to have been holding it the whole time 

A scalpel with a towel wrapped around the broken end he was clutching in his grasp; going for the most damage to make the woman drop their guardian 

the stick she had been clutching swiped at him catching him across the eye hearing the quiet boy yell out in pain; lowering to the ground holding his face as the teen yanked him back a bit too late

The distraction gave the young girl a chance to move even as she was almost grabbed again, feeling the hand tangling in her hair as she started to fall back made her lift the heavy pistol firing without ever looking up than hearing the pained scream as the boys grabbed onto her

The evil woman went down her leg bleeding from the bullet wound, but before another sound could leave her lips the wolf kid was on her; his now sharpened fangs sunk into her open neck, snarling like a wild animal ripping into pray as she screeched for help making the girl scramble keeping the boys from looking as he tore into his master staying over her until the woman stopped moving permanently 

The cold black eyes slowly came up until they were on the silver-haired girl as blood marred his jaws dripping to the floor in thick streams from his now soaked face; none of the children moved as she pushed them behind her when he moved forward, her breath gone from her lungs realizing what she hadn’t before losing her grip on the gun as her hands shook finding a small hand clutching hers the second the metal hit the floor

He was part slayer 

The male sat back down where he had been before not even remotely phased by his actions or bothered by her sudden fear of him leaning in he started nudging her shoulder much like a dog wanting pets and licking her cheek but didn’t speak as he leaned on her making her swallow down the terror gently placing her hand on his head rubbing behind his ears before looking back as the baby boy crawled over them to lay in the males lap giggling as he played with the fluffy tail that wrapped around his hip

If the youngest trusted him it was a sign they could relax her little sunshine had a great choice of characters but she was still on edge; having never been this close to one of the executioners and not almost been ripped apart picking up a shredded cloth she had dropped cleaning his face as he laid his head in her hands licking at her fingers 

Both of the women still standing there looked pale, the blond must have been new and not used to the carnage or had to be a lab tech in the lower building floors, but the other knew; she had seen it been forced to watch it as the young ones were tortured or killed during experiments moving slowly towards the door looking in the two heavily stocked creates of any food the female child could find her eyes lingering on the tiny bundle before starting towards the kids 

The gun barely stop her from approaching as she kneeled carefully pushing it to the side; shushing them as she looked over the six lives knowing what needed to be done before glancing at the other woman making up her mind “We have to go – run as far as we can before that door gives” 

“We will never make it out of the city on foot! Beth; that is suicide we’ll be killed-” the other woman tried to speak up but was quickly silenced as her colleague got to her feet 

Running over to the cabinets unlocking them with her key and pulling everything out “Chelsea; if we stay here we will die either by whatever they unleashed from the lab in that meeting or the boss when he realizes they escaped – I really don’t want to die..." placing it all on the counters in front of her; tossing the boxes on the floor after accumulating anything of use making smaller care packs that would reduce their load then stuffing it in a backpack after pulling out a change of clothes instructing the girl to put them on "Look we get the kids out, nobody will know it was us Everyone here is dead, we aren’t on the clock… we can finally get away from here and away from him-”

Weighing the options for a second longer realizing her friend was right again; the blond finally nodded moving over towards the huddled up kids giving them the blankets and picking up the duffle before helping the other woman pack up medical supplies, stuffing both of their computers in her side pack grabbing anything worth taking including the deceased woman's bag before sneaking over to the door barely pushing it open to look out noticing the outside was clear and that a vehicle was right there 

“We need to get all of this in the truck – Kids go last” the risk of going out now was higher given it was still light out but since she had parked the truck almost against the building it was going to be easy to load the stuff without being seen

“Beth – what if they got outside?”

That had been the whole reason for waiting until nightfall for the girl; in the darkness, she could hide easily but in daylight, she had no chance in hell “We have to take that risk – look just pop one door carefully, it will block you from being seen by the yard the metal door will cover your other side” once the supplies were ready to go the other woman was there helping climbing in the back she pulled it in further as Chelsea placed it in the van peaking around the door whenever she heard a noise being sure nobody had arrived to clear the building before finally placing the last create inside the back “Get the kids I’ll start the engine”

Looking behind her she noticed the kids waiting together; the girl keeping them in front of her after bandaging up the wound over the oldest mutants eye grateful it was just a fleshwound as the teenage boy staying a few feet back watching the metal door tensely; the youngest was clinging onto the eldest boy who scooped him up once she was waving him forward picking both up with ease pointing for him to get in a seat 

The girl shooed the other two forward just as something hit the door behind them hard, bending the metal in almost too easily the teen pushing them forward fast to load the kids in quicker

The youngest female crawled forward when she was shoved inside the van roughly, getting the kids strapped in after placing the cardboard casket beside her before hearing a feral snarl near the back looking out the tinted window seeing a huge fur-covered form before panic filled the woman’s face when a large clawed hand grabbed the side of the door trying to force it forward as she held it tight crying out in fear

“Get her in now!” she moved to help just as the teenager went to pull the woman inside only to see her yanked from his grasp and ripped under the side door having to grab him so he wouldn’t be pulled out too.

The agonizing screams as she begged for help echoed around them before hearing the slayer ripping into her, cringing at the gut-twisting sounds the wolf boy slammed the door before whatever was outside could come back just as the metal door in the room came crashing inward

A horrid screech shook the air before something smashed into the back door yelling for the woman Beth to drive before the truck was peeling out of the institution.

None of them dared to look back, keeping their heads down as she crashed through the gates speeding away from their prison into the barren streets rushing to now escape New York. 

She looked to the kids who instantly reached for her as sunlight flashed into the cab, her eyes momentarily closing from not being used to the brightness that met them.

When she looked back up the half slayer boy was crawling forward. favoring his right arm that was bleeding from several deep scratch marks

Ultimately he had managed to tear his eyes from the massacre on the streets; it was made clear the creatures had gotten out into the city.

She tried to shift going to assess his wounds yet he just curled into her lap as she sat on the floor between the seats so she could see each of the boys.

The last thing she remembered was warmth surrounding her as she leaned on a seat, instantly too tired to hold her head up any longer, then feeling one of the kids petting her hair as passing out

  Let me know what you think and when posted Part two will fill in the blanks and introduce you to the new creepy world!

[here4theheartbreak]

AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: Kim Namjoon x Park Jimin ✩ Genre(s): Smut, PWP

✩ Rating: Explicit ✩ Tags: PWP, Smut, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Dancer!Jimin, Bottom Jimin, Top Namjoon, Bareback, Established Relationship, Creative Sexual Positions

✩ Summary: Namjoon’s distracted, and Jimin wants attention.

✩ A/N: Written for @softjeon​ who requested #9 from my prompt list: “I didn’t realize you were so flexible.” with Minjoon. 

✩ Word Count: ~1.8k

Jimin groaned and flopped his entire body on the floor of the practice room.

“What is it?” Namjoon asked, barely glancing up from his notebook. He’d folded himself into the corner under the guise of watching Jimin work on his dance routine, but he was neck deep in new lyrics, if he was being entirely honest.

“I’ve been trying to seduce you for thirty minutes and you haven’t even looked up at me,” Jimin whined.

Namjoon looked up, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Jimin. I’ve had my head in my writing.”

“But you came here to watch me practice. I limbered up for you and everything. You missed me doing the splits!”

Namjoon gaped. “I did?” He asked, his face serious. He set his notebook aside and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I was rude. Please. Dance for me?”

“I’m too tired now,” Jimin said, sitting up. He pouted at Namjoon, his lips puffing out in the cutest way.

Namjoon crawled forward, kissing the pout he adored so much. “I really am sorry. How can I make it better?”

“I’m kinda… stiff. From dancing. You could give me a massage. Or…” Jimin’s pout grew into another all too familiar expression; a smirk that Namjoon meant only trouble.

“Or?” He pressed.

“You know.”

“Do I though?” Namjoon teased. He reached out, sliding his hand up Jimin’s bare leg until he reached the hem of his shorts. Jimin spread his legs, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth playfully. He nodded slowly.

“Hm… Can that door be locked?” Namjoon nudged his head toward the entrance of the room. Jimin nodded, scrambling up. He hurried over and locked the door, rushing back to Namjoon.

“Do you have—”

“Bag,” Jimin said. He went over to where his bag was near the wall, digging in it. Before he could rise, Namjoon stepped up to him, pressing his crotch hard against Jimin’s ass and placing a hand on his back.

“How about just like this?” He growled.

Jimin’s breath left in a huff. He looked back over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be mad about it.” He handed the tube back to Namjoon and braced his hands on the wall. Namjoon pushed Jimin’s shorts down, squeezing his warm, perky ass.

“Fuck, it’s been a few weeks hasn’t it?”

Jimin nodded. “I had to pleasure myself yesterday,” he lamented.

“Aw, you poor baby,” Namjoon teased. He slapped Jimin’s ass, earning a squawk. “I’ll make it up to you. Relax for me.”

Jimin nodded, letting his head hang down. Namjoon squirted the lube into his hand, spreading it over Jimin’s hole.

He hissed. “Cold.” “Sorry baby, I’ll warm it up for you quick.” He massaged his hole as he spoke, earning a soft moan.

“Please hurry,” Jimin whined, twisting his hips back. Namjoon laughed.

“I’ve barely started.”

“It’s been too long,” Jimin complained. “I can take it.”

“Oh yeah?” Namjoon palmed himself through his jeans. “My pretty dancer gonna let me in?” He pressed his finger into Jimin’s ass, crooking it against his prostate. The sound Jimin made was absolutely erotic, his hips jerking.

Namjoon worked quickly, opening Jimin up just enough so the penetration wouldn’t hurt him. He dropped his jeans, glancing over at the mirror. The two looked absolutely obscene; Jimin’s shirt was hiked up around his shoulders, his shorts around his ankles. Namjoon’s jeans were bunched around his ankles, his cock jutting out red and angry. “Jimin—” He whispered.

“I’m ready,” Jimin said.

He slicked his cock with an ample amount of lube and spread Jimin open before lining up and pushing in. Jimin whined at the back of his throat. His back curved beautifully, sweat pooling in the divot of his spine.

Much to Namjoon’s surprise, as he pushed as deep as he could get, Jimin began to move, gently lowering himself down the wall. His ass shifted around Namjoon’s cock, clenching and squeezing as he bent his body down. He grabbed his calves.

“Move,” he whispered.

Namjoon pulled out gently and pushed back in, gasping. He grabbed Jimin’s hips. Jimin’s ass was unrelentingly tight in this position, every muscle in his body taut to maintain his position. Namjoon looked to the mirror a few feet from them, his cock throbbing. Jimin was bent entirely in two, one hand on the ground, one wrapped around his leg.

“Harder,” Jimin whined.

“Are you sure? Your balance—“ Namjoon’s worries were choked off when Jimin clenched around him, snapping his hips back.

“I’m fine,” Jimin promised, meeting Namjoon’s gaze in the mirror.

Namjoon set his hands on Jimin’s ass, squeezing before pulling back and driving forward. Jimin moaned, nodding. “Again, please!”

Namjoon obeyed, unable to resist the tight squeeze of Jimin’s body any longer, even if he’d wanted to. He began to pump his cock into Jimin deep and steady, shifting to hold his hips as he did.

Jimin slowly lifted his upper half, his soft cries of pleasure egging Namjoon on. Namjoon Held right as Jimin braved his hands against the wall, now just bent over at the waist.

Jimin reached back, grabbing one of Namjoon’s hands and moving it up to the swell of his ass. He looked back, lips wet and parted.

“Fuck my ass, hyung,” he groaned.

Namjoon swore, speeding up his thrusts. As he did, he brought his hand down hard on Jimin’s ass twice, watching it jiggle and pink up where he’d struck. Jimin cried out sharply, his rim clenching around Namjoon almost painfully tight.

“Don’t stop—“ He gasped when Namjoon spanked him a third time.

Namjoon felt Jimin shift as he fucked into him, and gasped when he saw what the other was doing.

“Jimin—“

“Shh... Just keep fucking me,” Jimin whined. He lifted his right leg slowly back, twisting his body and using the wall to balance with his hands.

Inch by inch, he moved his leg up Namjoon’s body, stopping only when it was near his head.

Namjoon looked at the mirror, biting back a whimper. Jimin was doing the splits on his cock, braced on the wall and balanced on one foot.

“Jimin—“

“I’m nice and open for you, hyung,” Jimin whined, his cock twitching and dribbling precome. “Fuck me... Use me, please.”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t realize you were so flexible,” Namjoon grumbled. He wrapped one arm around Jimin’s waist to help him balance, sliding the other up his lifted leg. He kissed it gently where it rested on his shoulder, and began to pound into him.

The sensation was entirely unique; Jimin’s body was both loosened and tight, fluttering around his cock as he thrusted. Jimin’s legs were shaking, and Namjoon worried for a moment he’d fall, but he still seemed steady.

Each inward thrust had Jimin’s cock dribbling onto the floor, the angle rubbing nearly directly over his sensitive prostate.

Namjoon reached out, brushing his hand over Jimin’s tip, only to have his hand smacked away.

“No,” Jimin whined, “I can come on your cock like this, just keep fucking me— Hard, please— I need it deep.”

Namjoon swore under his breath. He certainly wouldn’t disappoint his lover. He held Jimin’s hips in a bruising grip and fucked into him, the wet, slick sounds of his lubed ass and their bodies striking echoed through the practice room. Jimin screamed brokenly, his ass squeezing Namjoon’s cock. He reached back with one hand, grabbing his ankle and holding his leg up. He moved more upright, bracing one hand on the wall. The small shift allowed Namjoon to see more, the way Jimin’s ass was opening for his cock, the tight stretch of his smooth skin.

“Stay like that,” Namjoon demanded, his teeth gritted.

Jimin looked back at him, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Yeah, like what you see, Namjoonie-hyung?” He cooed, crying out when Namjoon slammed into him. “Like seeing me folded up like your fuck doll?”

“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” Namjoon growled, but his cock throbbed. Jimin giggled.

“That’s it, huh? I’m nice and flexible like some pretty fuck doll— Oh! You can just fold me up however it’s tightest—“ He hissed and shuddered, “And use me until you f— Fuck, hyung—“ Jimin sobbed as Namjoon picked up the intensity of his thrusts. “Until you fill one of my holes with your come!” He finally stuttered out.

Namjoon bared his teeth, shaking his sweat damp bangs from his eyes. He held tight to Jimin, using his body. Jimin began to shudder harder, his cock throbbing. This was it, he knew Jimin’s body well enough.

“The difference,” Namjoon growled as Jimin struggled to hold off his climax, “is my flexible little fuck doll screams so pretty... And comes so nice when I’m using his tight hole. That’s my favorite part, Jiminie. Come on my cock baby. Come while I’m fucking you just like you like, doll.”

Jimin screamed his name, his entire body tensing and releasing a few times. His cock throbbed as it spilled ropes of come in messy arcs onto the wood floor.

Namjoon swore under his breath. He continued to fuck Jimin through his orgasm, reaching down to press on the base of his cock, desperate to keep his own orgasm at bay. Just until...

Jimin’s body began to relax, his cock beginning to soften. He whimpered as Namjoon continued to pump into his sensitive hole, looking back at him.

“Please—“

Namjoon nodded. He let go of his cock and slammed in hard enough that Jimin nearly lost his balance, held up mostly by Namjoon’s arms around his waist.

Namjoon grunted his name as he reached his own climax, his stomach knotting almost painfully tight before releasing. His balls throbbed, sending arcs of pleasure through every part of his body, and spilling his hot release deep into Jimin.

Only when his cock began to soften and slip out of Jimin’s used ass did he move, stepping back just a little. Jimin groaned tiredly, reaching back to hold his leg up. He flexed his ass, and Namjoon’s come oozed forward, dribbling down his bare, sweat shiny thigh. Jimin giggled.

“Am I a messy doll now?”

Namjoon smirked. He reached out, gathering the come on his finger before pushing it into Jimin’s gaped rim. “Very messy.”

Jimin let his leg down and stood with Namjoon’s help, stumbling a little. Namjoon held onto him, pressing kisses to his shoulder and cheek.

“Wow, my legs are like jello,” Jimin complained.

“I’m not surprised... You looked so fucking sexy like that, baby.”

“Yeah?” Jimin beamed at the praise. “I’ll do it again for you soon.”

“Not too much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. We should shower.”

“Come to the locker room and wash up with me?” Jimin asked softly.

Namjoon nodded. He pulled his pants up, wiping sweat from his brow. Jimin grabbed a cloth from his bag, swiping his own face. Namjoon helped him pull his shorts back up, kissing along his neck.

“You’re my world, Minie.”

Jimin smiled softly, leaning back on Namjoon. “I’d better be. I couldn’t bear it if you looked at another man like this.” He met Namjoon’s adoring gaze in the mirror.

“Never. Let’s clean up and go home. I’ll give you that massage while we watch some tv.”

Jimin beamed. “Deal.”

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Part Nine)

You join Roger in Montreux as Queen prepare to record their next album, and spend time exploring the city... and each other.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Filth, daddy kink, STRICTLY 18+ Notes: I forgot about this. Sorry. If you like this fic, please reblog it!

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​​​; @sarahgurl09​​​; @sunshine112​; @biscuit-barrel​; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove​; @jhoemazzellhoe​; @justgivemethekeys​; @qweenly​; @picturepowderinabottle​

You and Roger sat in the back of the car in stunned silence. You had your nosed pressed up against the glass, admiring the view of Lac Leman. 

Roger admired you admiring the view. 

From the snowy peaks of the alps on the French side, to the cobbled streets and cosy bars in Lausanne, Vevey and Clarens, you were positively enthralled on the journey from Geneva Airport to Montreux. 

You and Roger didn’t even have to make proper, joined up conversation. All he had to do was listen to your awe struck outbursts, pointing out yet another feature he had probably seen many times before on his way to Mountain Studios. Every now and again, he’d give your fingers a supportive squeeze, letting you know that he heard you.

There was something about Montreux alone; above all the other towns you passed on your journey. Something magical. Something that you just couldn’t put your finger on. It made your fears disappear and your worries drift away; home felt like a distant memory. It soothed you with blue skies, and sprawling lake views, and mediterranean-looking buildings with pastel facades and ornate balconies. 

“We’re almost there.”

You turned to Roger, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This is more beautiful than you said.”

“We should go exploring later,” he said, brushing his fingers over your thigh. “There’s a lot of nice little bars and restaurants here. We’ll be staying a block away from the studio. Right about… here,” he said nodding towards a block of bright yellow apartments with stacks of generous balconies. To your right, they offered sprawling lake views against a backdrops of snow-tipped mountains. To your left, you had to crane your neck just to spy the top of the densely-populated hillside.

“Oh,” you sighed, admiring the building and all its exquisite views, “it’s stunning.”

“They really are. You can’t beat a bottle of wine and watching the sun set from up there.”

“It’s perfect for it,” you said, getting out of the car and opening the boot, much to your chauffeur’s dismay. “It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you told him, carting your luggage out and on to the pavement.

“She’s got it,” Roger laughed, taking his own suitcases. “Thank you.”

Standing at the door to the building, you and Roger exchanged excited glances and bolstering sighs, before linking your fingers together. Wandering into the lobby, the atmosphere struck you. It looked and smelled like money and excess and opulence, with shiny slate grey flooring and clean white walls. There were no chandeliers or gold trims. It was a modern kind of rich. A sickening, classy kind of rich. That you actually kind of liked. 

A petite, brunette receptionist greeted you both: “Bonjour Monsieur Taylor. Et Madame.”

“Bonjour, Gaudine,” Roger said, wandering over to the desk. “Do you have my key?”

“Oui – voila!” she said, handing Roger the key. “We’ve cleaned the apartment and it’s ready for your stay. We have put champagne in your fridge and done a bit of shopping so that you have everything you need. If you need anything, just call.”

“Merci beaucoup, Gaudine,” Roger smiled, placing his hand at the small of your back and leading you towards the lift.

You pressed the button and the door slid open in a moment of slick convenience. When the pair of you got inside, you slumped against opposite sides of the compartment, swapping wild grins. You could tell from the way Roger’s eyes devoured every detail of your body that he was dreaming up everything he was going to do to you once you got to the flat. 

Roger chewed his lip. His breath laboured. Pinpricks of desire seared from his chest to his cheeks, flushing him a delightful shade of pink. As the lift ascended, so did his need and his lust. And when the door finally pinged open, he grabbed your arm and hauled you down the corridor towards the flat. 

Discarding your bags at the door, you pounced on him, sending his back flying against the wall.

But he was swift to take control, turning around and hiking your thighs up around his waist making you cling to him for dear life. “You didn’t put your knickers back on, did you?” he purred in your ear. 

You were too busy undoing his jeans to answer him; his cock already stood at attention, thick, intimidating and ready to slip into the next available hole.

“You dirty girl.” Slipping his cock through your pink, swollen folds, Roger pushed into you. 

Feverish and urgent, you ground your hips against his grasp as you gasped at being filled so deliciously again. The sharp, snappy rhythm he settled into made you clench around him.

“What are you Kitten?” Roger growled.

In the throes of delirium, you couldn’t find the words to respond to him. You could only bear to focus on his cock, pumping away at you. In deep, wet passes, he bottomed out inside you time and time again. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, and his neck, and his hair to find something to cling on to to steady yourself. But he was all the support you needed with his body pressed tight against you. He was all over you.

His chin nestled into your neck, biting down on your skin, rougher and more ravenously with each thrust. “Touch yourself for me, Kitten,” he growled in your ear. “I want to feel that tight  cunt of yours milking my cock when you come.”

If those words of his were enough to shoot sparks of bliss straight between your legs, then god knows what your fingers coupling with his efforts might do to you, you thought as you mindlessly started to draw circles over your clit. An almighty whine escaped you. So loud that you prayed the walls were thick enough to stop the neighbours hearing. And then another. And another. You had to fight to stifle them on Roger’s neck as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through your aching body as you tried to stay clinging to Roger. Quiet whimpers, of “yes Daddy,” or, “right there, Daddy,” were absorbed by the collar of his shirt. And that only made his movements more purposeful as you writhed uncontrollably.

“Good girl,” he coaxed. “Come for me, Kitten. Come for Daddy.”

You frantically rubbed and rubbed until your cunt milked Roger’s cock for every drop of cum he could fill you with.

Roger had to prop you up until you caught your breath and regained some semblance of control.

“You alright, darling?” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Yes, Daddy–Roger! Sorry,” you sighed, smoothing down your dress and clenching your thighs together.

Roger shook his head with a smirk. “We’ll be having more of than now we’re out here. And I love it when you get all awkward on me, Kitten,” he said, fixing your hair for you. “The bathroom’s  there on your right. Clean yourself up and I’ll show you the rest of the flat.”

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, sauntering through to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and eyed yourself in the mirror with a jolt of horror. Had you really walked through Geneva airport with your hair sticking up in all directions and your mascara caked underneath your eyes? Or the buttons on your dress all askew and misaligned? And those mysterious stains at the back? You clearly hadn’t done as good a job of cleaning yourself up on the plane as you thought you had. And why didn’t Roger tell you? “Fuck,” you laughed to yourself, dragging out a tuft of tissues and bending over the sink to get a better view of your misplaced makeup.

You swiped the tissues underneath your eyes, smearing the thick black gunk off your face. And then you turned your attention towards the rest of your body. Flying had a habit of drying out your skin and making you feel like the grossest thing on two legs; you could practically feel the slurry of germs that crawled all over your body.

In the corner of the room, by the back window that looked out on to the alpine view, stood a sparkling red bath tub. It called out to you, promising that you could be clean in no time.

“Roger!” you shouted.

You heard shuffling coming from outside the bathroom door. “Yes, Kitten?”

“Can you go through my bags and get me something nice to wear and my wash bag please?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Thanks,” you said, flicking off the lock on the door. Setting about throwing off your dress and your bra, you leaned over the tub and put the tap on, sending water cascading into it. Above the tub, there were columns of black and white shelves, stocked with all the expensive looking lotions and potions anyone could ever need. You saw one interesting looking jar, like something out of a sweet shop, bearing the label, ‘pine and patchouli bath salts.’ That would do. You grabbed the bottle and dumped a capful into the boiling hot water. And then went back to eying up the rest of Roger’s accoutrements.

It turned out he was a big fan of lavender and sage, too; you grabbed the soap and the lotion, not caring if they matched your bath salts. And then the bubble bath. How could you forget that? Throwing a generous splodge into the water, you looked down, like a witch admiring her brew, as the bubbles doubled.

“I see you’ve found my spa stash,” a voice from behind you chuckled.

You turned to find Roger laying out towels and a set of pyjamas on the bench at the bathroom door. 

“Sorry, I  needed something after that flight. I haven’t forgotten what you told me about what Steven Tyler gets up to in that plane.”

“Those salts are fantastic when my shoulders are acting up,” he commented with a nod towards the sweetie bottle.

“Do you want to join me, Daddy?” you asked. You felt emboldened again, running your hands up Roger’s chest, making sure you squeezed his aching shoulders. They were still tense, but surely not out of sexual frustration, you thought to yourself. 

“Could do with a quick dunk,” Roger shrugged. He watched as your fingers unfastened the buttons on his shirt one by one. His voice shook from the contact. “Why don’t I get that lovely bottle of champagne from the fridge?”

“Be quick,” you warned, giving him a pat on his bare chest. “I’m not done with you yet, Daddy.”

Roger moved faster than you had ever seen him go, taking him all of thirty seconds to pluck the bottle of champagne from the fridge and locate a couple of glasses in the kitchen, before he returned to find you already sitting comfortably in the tub, stretching out your legs under a blanket of soft, heady bubbles. 

“Do you want to do the honours, Kitten?” he asked, handing you the bottle.

“Don’t mind if I do, Daddy,” you purred, taking it from his grasp. You watched with your hand wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle as Roger shuffled out of the rest of his clothes, sporting the beginnings of yet another hard on, and stepped into the tub in front of you. You flicked your eyes to his as you bit your lip, sending a visible shiver through him. That raging confidence you had in the beginning was back with a vengeance and nothing was going to stop you from making your time in Montreux as memorable, and as debauched, as you could. “Ready, Daddy?”

Roger woke up in a pile of white silk sheets. The sheer curtain billowed into the room in smoky swathes in time to the cool lakeside breeze, wafting wisps for freshly brewed coffee into the room. He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to take in the sight of the empty room. You were nowhere to be seen. The culprit for all of his aches and pains, bestowed upon him the night before, was gone. “Darling?” he groaned, sitting upright and scratching his chest. His head pounded and his vision hadn’t quite acclimatised to seeing daylight. “You there?”

Shuffling came from the balcony, then you peeked into the room. Only half of your body was visible to him, as you leaned against the door frame. 

“Good morning, Daddy.”

Roger’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. The thoughts of everything you got up to on your first night together in Montreux raced through his brain so vividly that his hips got the message straight away. He tilted his head back and eyed you through his lashes as you stepped into the room. “Good morning, Kitten,” he purred.

Perching at the end of the bed, you dragged a hand up Roger’s leg over the sheets. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Sore,” he laughed, giving his shoulder a rub.

You pouted and pondered. “Let me get you a lovely big cup of coffee and I’ll help you work out all those aches and pains,” you said, continuing to massage Roger’s leg.

“That sounds lovely, darling, thank you.”

You wandered back through to the balcony and poured Roger some coffee. So enthralled by your surroundings, the cup almost overflowed. From the way the mid morning sun shimmered over the lake to the snowy peaks of the mountains. This was heaven. And it felt a million miles away from home – and Ibiza. You relished that feeling of giddy optimism as you carried the cup back through to the bedroom to find that Roger was missing.

“Where are you, Roggie?” you called, peering out into the hall.

“Brushing my teeth,” Roger responded through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat so he could speak more clearly. “And making myself more presentable for you, my love.”

“Don’t be too long,” you grinned, settling down among the covers.

When he arrived back at the bedroom, he hobbled towards you, clutching his aching hip, and pressing at the small of his back. His hair was mussed and messy, and he wore nothing but a short, silk, tiger print robe. And his circular glasses sat daintily perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from eagerly patting the space beside you and thrusting the cup of coffee into his hands to get started on the fun part of your morning. 

You slunk behind him, wrapping your legs around his body and pressing your chest to his back, dragging the fine layer of material from his body. It slipped down his arms, leaving his top half completely naked under your touch. 

Tension radiated from Roger’s body as he sank another mouthful of rich, black coffee to stifle his nerves. 

Your fingertips pressed against either side of his back, where his shoulders met his neck and he moaned in bliss. “Sore there?” you asked.

“Mmm, I’m really showing my age, aren’t I?” he laughed.

“Lucky for you, I think there’s something about senior citizens I find particularly alluring,” you joked, working at the knots on his shoulders.

“Fat wallets?”

“Well, I mean, it helps. But fat something else,” you replied.

“God you’re filthy.”

“It’s your fault,” you said, rubbing his back extra hard to make him squeal.

Roger’s voice faltered, coming down from the bolt of pain, quickly succeeded by the loosening of one of the pressure points on his back. “Oh, why’s that?” he asked.

“I used to be an angel before I met you. And now? All I care about is private jets, champagne and getting shagged anywhere, anytime. How’s that for a change.”

Roger leaned back against you, pinning you between himself and the headboard as he looked up at you with his big tired doe eyes. “Well, for what it’s worth, I quite like the new you, Kitten.”

“Is that right?” you laughed, tickling your fingernails over his chest. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Much much better. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”

“And what’s on our agenda for today?”

“I was hoping I could show you around,” he smiled. “We’ve got a whole day before everyone else gets here. And we won’t have a moment to ourselves afterwards.” Then his voice descended into a naughty, mischievous whisper: “So I was hoping, if you’ll let me, we could make the most of it and be absolute heathens for the rest of the day.”

You placed a long, drawn out kiss to the top of Roger’s head and squeezed him tightly. “That sounds absolutely perfect. Especially the part about us being heathens. That suits us down to a tee, don’t you think, Daddy?”

“It really does, Kitten.”

“Well, I’m going to go and get myself ready,” you explained, untying the front of Roger’s robe to reveal his cock, resting against his stomach. Hard and fully erect. “And you can take care of that.”

“Can’t you do it for me?” Roger pouted. “That mouth of yours looks awfully tempting.”

“I’ll tell you what,” you began, “why don’t I let you know when you’re allowed to take care of it? See how long you last?”

“Oh you’re cruel,” he sighed, watching you slip off the bed and wander over to the wardrobe.

Searching through your clothes to find the optimal outfit to tease Roger in, you glanced over your shoulder. He was still sitting there, looking down at his cock, wondering whether he’d risk disobeying you. “I wonder what you’re like when you’re all needy,” you pondered.

“And what happens if I get myself off anyway?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Daddy. You’re right – I can be very, very cruel.”

Dressed and ready to face the day, you and Roger stepped out into the August sunshine. Midday wasn’t far around the corner and the sun bathed the promenade in a brilliant orange glow. Arm in arm, the pair of you strolled down towards the shimmering blue lake.

You turned your head as you walked, catching the smug grin plastered on Roger’s features. Moving closer to him, you purred in his ear. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself there, Roggie.”

“I’m out in my favourite town with the woman of my dreams. Why wouldn’t I be pleased with myself?” His voice was hushed, but jovial.

“I think you’ve been naughty, Daddy,” you whispered, leading Roger along the promenade towards the marketplace. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked without so much as a flicker of fear or apprehension.

You chuckled, continuing to walk as your eyes darted from the revellers to the ornate facades on the lakefront buildings, letting the scenery brush against your sense of awareness, but never fully grasping it. Until, between a restaurant and a hotel, a cobbled alleyway caught your eye. You veered off your tranquil course, leading Roger towards the main road and away from the lake. “You’re going to be very sorry you disobeyed me once today’s over,” you cooed. The alleyway seemed to stretch up to the sky, spurring off into labyrinthine offshoots even darker and quieter than the next. Losing your breath about half way up the cobbled hill, you tugged Roger into an offshoot, pressing him against the wall. “You’re going to be so, so sorry, Daddy.”

Roger raised his eyebrows and scowled. “Just you try it, sweetheart.”

Palming at the bulge in Roger’s jeans with one hand, you pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and looked up at Roger.

He just let it happen. It was all he could do, staring up at the clear blue sky and chuckling to himself. In his mind, he had everything to be pleased about; he had earned himself a free handjob – maybe more if he played his cards right. But that was all he wanted. 

The bustle of the promenade wasn’t far out of earshot and if he allowed you to allow him get too carried away, you risked being found out for the pair of perverts you really were. And he couldn’t let that happen.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Undoing Roger’s jeans, you took his cock out; thick, hard and begging for your attention. Eyeing him up for any sign that he might be enjoying this, you pumped your hand over his length, gathering pace until you could hear each moist pass in your quiet alcove.

Roger sighed, jerking his hips into your grasp when your thumb brushed over the swollen tip. “Fuck,” he hissed, his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

“Enjoying this, Daddy?”

“Oh god, yes, Kitten. Keep going. Be quick.”

An evil flicker bolted through your eyes as you grinned up at him, relishing how worked up he became at nothing at all. “I’m gonna have to use my mouth. I know how much you love that,” you teased, sinking down on to your knees. The cobblestones were uncomfortable at best, but you’d only be in that position for a few minutes. And it’d be worth it, you thought, lapping at the underside of his shaft in lazy, wet strokes, groaning for effect. You felt the muscles in his thighs twinge when you grabbed them to steady yourself. And then his fingers, snaked their way through your hair. He wanted you to take him. To give him what he wanted there and then. But you were in control of this. Moving away from his cock with a pop of your lips and a clear thread of saliva tethering you to him, you got off your knees and wiped your chin.

Roger whined like a wounded animal. “You can’t  leave me like this, Kitten!”

“Oh, but I can, Daddy. You didn’t do as you were told this morning,” you scolded, wandering back down the cobbled alleyway, leaving him scrambling to catch up.

“But,” Roger protested, shoving his engorged member back into his jeans, “it’s so fucking obvious. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. “Where to next?”

Roger’s mouth hung open for a moment, looking around. “We could take a boat to Chateau de Chillon?”

“Is it nice?” you asked, turning to him and placing your hand over your eyes to shield them from the rays.

“It’s gorgeous,” he blustered, leaning in to your ear. “Lots of places for you to finish sucking my cock without getting caught.”

“Whether or not you get to finish is up to me today, remember?” you scolded. “Now which way to the boats?”

Roger paled at how direct you were. How easily you took control. And how you somehow managed to turn his legs to mush with even the slightest telling off. He looked left and he looked right, and then he pointed to a jetty three blocks away. “It’s this way.”

You grabbed Roger’s arm and set off towards the small jetty of tourist boats, bobbing away in the water.

Roger’s efforts to conceal his raging hard-on didn’t go unnoticed by you. He attempted to walk behind you, hoping your handbag would hide his crotch. Then he tried grasping at the hem on his shirt, tugging it down only for it to ride up again. You could tell he was getting flustered, eager to sit down and finally cover the tent in his jeans by crossing his arms protectively over his front. In fact, when you boarded the shabby boat, you swore he had never looked so relieved.

You and Roger sat in silence on opposite sides, exchanging lustful glances the whole way there. Every so often, your gaze trailed down to his crotch, which he so desperately kept covered beneath his hands. You licked your lips and bit them for effect just so you could see your boyfriend squirm in front of a boat full of tourists.

All in all, the journey only took ten minutes but in Roger’s mind, it felt like an eternity. He didn’t care where, or how you did it, all he needed was release. He mentally kicked himself for disobeying you that morning.

Stepping off the boat and on to the wooden jetty, Roger practically dragged you in the direction of the ticket booth, paying for both of your tickets. 

“Where to first, Daddy?” you asked innocently.

Roger scanned the courtyard for the one entrance he knew he could count on. His eyes lit up when he found it. “I know just the place, Kitten,” he said excitedly, striding on ahead of you.

You snorted at his eagerness as he took two steep stone steps at a time, descending into the dark bowels of the castle into a deserted cellar.

Roger paused, glancing around. “Let’s go this way,” he ordered, jabbing his finger into the darkness ahead of you both.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet so you can finish me off.”

“No chance,” you jibed.

Roger stopped dead and pushed you against the wall. In the darkness you could just about make out his shoulders rising and falling. “Why don’t we play a game then, darling?” he said, running his hand over your throat so tantalisingly it went straight to your core.

“I love games,” you mocked.

“First one to come today gets a punishment,” he purred, hiking up the hem of your dress. “I wonder how long you’ll last. Oh,” he paused, palming at your slit. “No knickers and a short little dress? I think you’re really trying to tease me.”

That submissive streak inside you simmered away under the surface. “I didn’t think I’d need them,” you sighed, spreading your legs for him. “Seeing how hard you get for me just gets me so wet. I’d have soaked right through them.”

Roger chuckled, and kissed your neck, lulling you into a false sense of security.

It made you wonder when the catch would come. You always suspected Roger had a sadistic streak in him, and you always wondered what it’d be like to push the limits of his happy-go-lucky nature. Maybe today was that day? 

But he was so gentle, so careful. Caressing that sweet spot between your legs with feather light touches that earned stifled, breathless moans from you. Never once did his fingers move with any kind of intent, other than to draw you out for as long as possible. And he clearly adored it.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours as he continued to tease you until his fingers were completely coated in your slick. “I think you like this, Kitten,” he whispered.

“I really do, Daddy.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll let you come if you put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“You’re going to need to try harder,” you sassed.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said in a wicked tone.

Before you could choke out another sassy retort, Roger slipped two fingers inside you, curling them up against that one spot guaranteed to make you squeal his name. Then another finger joined them, stretching you out with squelching wet strokes that cut through the dark, quiet cellar. His fingers fucked you, while his thumb circled your clit in firm motions that ratcheted up the tension in your legs with every single round. “Tell me again how I need to try harder, Kitten?”

You grasped and clawed at his shoulders for stability in the throes of pure ecstasy. “Oh god, not here Daddy!”

Roger chuckled, burying his face against your neck to get better access to all the sensitive skin to drag his teeth over. “That’s what you get for teasing me, Kitten,” he whispered, his breath falling in hot feathery wisps on your skin. “Now, you can finish me here and now, or I can make you come and give you a nice punishment when we get back to the flat tonight.”

“I swear I’ll finish you,” you panted. “Please.”

Roger smirked, removing his fingers from your cunt, leaving them saturated. He pressed them to your lips. “Suck them clean,” he commanded, popping them into your mouth before your brain could register what was going on. “Hopefully this’ll teach you not to get mouthy with me.”

You hummed, wrapping your lips around each finger as he pumped them in and out of your mouth until they were all clean, wishing they were still buried in your dripping snatch. You swore your thighs were a mess by that point. But it didn’t matter. You had to let Roger believe that he was getting exactly what he wanted from you – it was all part of the plan.

You grabbed his hand and started wandering ahead, but Roger stayed firmly rooted to the spot. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“We need to find some privacy, Roger. We can’t  do that right here,” you whispered.

“Can’t we?” Roger smirked, nodding towards a short wall in the dark recesses of the cellar. “Pretty sure that’s private enough.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. If it beat any more violently, it might have burst right out. You walked slowly behind the wall and got to your knees for the second time that day as Roger joined you, hastily tugging down his zipper and pulling out his cock.

Roger wasn’t planning on playing nice. Grabbing the back of your hair with one hand, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he looked down and smirked. “Now, be a good girl and open that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Before you knew it, he had bottomed out; the tip pushing at the back of your throat. You gagged and spluttered and fumbled for something to steady yourself. You clung to Roger’s thighs for dear life. The pace he had set for you was utterly blistering. The kind of face fucking that instantly sent mascara cascading down your cheeks, and great, long strings of saliva dripping from your chin and on to your chest. The sounds of you gagging on his cock alone were disgustingly lewd; even concealed behind the tiny wall, if a rogue tourist happened upon the cellar, they’d hear the pair of you and know straight away what you were getting up to.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you Kitten?” he sighed, thrusting into your mouth with reckless abandon and no consideration for the state of your hair, or your makeup. “I love girls who do as they’re told.”

The words pouring from his mouth were sheer filth and it went straight to your cunt. You  couldn’t resist reaching down to get yourself off.

But then, Roger tugged you off his cock. Right before any kind of pleasure registered in your brain.

“I didn’t say you could come, did I, Kitten?” he scolded.

You were still panting, trying to suck some air into your lungs, relishing the brief reprieve he offered from his onslaught. Your brain was so cloudy that words weren’t on the agenda.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” he purred with a sadistic edge. “You get to play with that tight   little cunt of yours, and I get to come wherever I like. How does that sound?”

“Sounds reasonable,” you sighed with a delirious smile, your hand returning to your torture, tense cunt. But Roger’s grip on the back of your head pulled your gaze right back up to him.

“There’s one other thing, though, Kitten. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed.

“Wherever I decide to come, you’re not allowed to clean it off until we’ve walked around the entire castle. So you better hope that mouth of yours pleases me, or it’ll be going on that beautiful face of yours.”

You moaned  hearing those words. Was he really serious? 

You didn’t care. You continued to play with yourself, dutifully opening your mouth to take his cock again.

“Can you imagine what everyone would think if they saw you with spunk dripping down your face, darling?” He groaned; he seemed to know the exact things to say to have you teetering on the edge in seconds flat. “Or maybe I could  fuck you. You love feeling it drip down those thighs, don’t you, Kitten?”

Now that was an idea, you thought. Your eyes popped open with enthusiasm as you gave an approving mewl.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Kitten?” he taunted, his cock hellbent on making your jaw ache. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Of course you couldn’t manage that. Words were impossible when you were gagged by that thick rod of his stuck down your throat. But that didn’t stop you trying, gurgling a comical, “Fuck me please Daddy,” through the unrelenting mouthful.

“So cute,” he teased. “I didn’t quite catch that, Kitten.”

“Oh my god,” you gurgled again, “please fuck me Daddy.”

Roger laughed, yanking you off his cock. He spoke to you like you were a gorgeous little simpleton – slowly, annunciating every syllable. “English, please, Kitten. Tell me again.”

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your hand working overtime between your thighs. 

Then, panic set in. Roger wasn’t focusing on you anymore. Instead, he was busy looking around as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans and offered you a hand up.

Your stomach dropped with disappointment.

You quickly wiped the drool off your chin, and power walked out of the cellar and on to the next exhibit in the castle, red face and both of you so frustrated by each other’s teasing that you might have exploded just from walking and holding hands in awkward silence. “Where to next?” you asked him.

“Maybe we should try the armoury?” he sighed. “Might be a bit less busy.”

Clamouring up several flights of stone and wooden steps, you and Roger were horrified to find that the jewel in the crown of Montreux’s most famed tourist attractions in peak season was completely packed. Small children ran amuck in the armoury, enjoying the view and playing around with the wooden toy canons.

It was a sight that could’ve made you and Roger cry.

“Right! Back on the boat,” Roger ordered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans and bolting down the wooden steps towards the courtyard.

You struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the stony path towards the jetty to catch the next boat back to Montreux.

“I can’t fucking believe that,” Roger complained. “I was so fucking ready to …”

“Shag my brains out?” you laughed.

Roger’s features changed from bitter frustration to mild agreement, and even, a small meek smile. “Yeah.”

“Where to next,” you began, draping your arm over his shoulder, “Daddy?”

He flicked his eyes over to you and with a devilish smirk, he made his suggestion. “There’s a really good bar on the promenade. And I don’t think they’d bat an eyelid about people shagging in their toilets.”

You laughed, slapping his chest as the boat set sail. You were so ready to give up on the game you were playing. “Haven’t we had enough near misses today?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Roger began, stepping on to the boat, “I thought we were doing the whole public sex thing now, because my girlfriend’s just realised she’s a bit of a freak!”

You plonked yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I am, but sometimes, you  have to make it about the soft stuff, you know?”

Roger raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I’m kidding! Where is this bar you were talking about? It better be good!”

“Drinks are on me, Kitten,” he said softly, patting your thigh.

You and Roger burst into the opulent bathroom at Funky Claude’s with the verve and roguish impatience of a pair of horny teenagers. You giggled, casting an eye over the decadent restroom to make sure no one was there, before bundling Roger into a stall.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you laughed, hiking your dress up around your hips and planting your hands firmly against the wall at the back of the cubicle. 

“Me neither,” Roger responded. This was followed by the hasty unzipping of his jeans, for the third and hopefully final time that day. He spat on his fingers and dragged them over your cunt, still sensitive and glistening invitingly from the torture Roger had bestowed upon you at the castle. 

You groaned as Roger eased into you. The way he stretched you tight around his girth and stilled for just a split second made you eagerly clench around him. It didn’t do much. But that was ok. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when he finally began to move in tedious passes, every back and forth filled the tiny bathroom stall with slick sounds that would have given the game away, should someone have wandered in while you were mid rut. 

Roger’s hips snapped into you with a jagged, purposeful intent, that made you curse and brace harder against the wall in front of you. He clung to your waist with his chest firmly glued to your back, hunching over you like an animal. “Such a tight  cunt,” he moaned against your neck. “Touch it for me. Touch your cunt for me, Kitten.”

Those words made your entire body shudder with need. “You do it, Daddy,” you whined.

He chuckled and wrapped one hand around your throat. His free hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out the sensitive little nub he had taken so much pleasure in teasing so harshly before.

Your nails clawed at the wall as another wave ripped through your body. You cursed, loud and unchecked as Roger did his best to bring you to the edge as fast as possible.

But then, you heard the gentle swish of the swing doors to the bathroom. You and Roger stopped dead. His hand moved from your neck to your mouth and his lips pressed to your ear again. “Shhh,” he said, moving his cock painfully slow in. And out.

You blinked and looked around, as if somehow it would make your ears work a bit better in an attempt to track the person’s movements in the stall next to yours. You could hear them shuffle their jeans down. And you heard the stream of urine whizzing out of their bladder. And then their zipper. And a flush. And the taps.

All while Roger continued to fuck you so slowly it made you ache.

Nothing could prepare you for when the hand dryer roared to life. He moved at double the pace as when you were alone, pounding you like he was in heat; his fingers doing the same on your clit until your body convulsed and a loud, pleasure dripping moan escaped you, masked by your fellow bathroom goer drying their hands off after taking a piss.

When they finally left, Roger gave three sharp thrusts, punctuated by guttural grunts with his teeth planted in your shoulder. You could feel him dripping out of you as the pair of you stood there in silence, sandwiched together in your post romp comedown.

“Fuck,” you giggled, making his seed ooze down your thighs as you turned to him. “Can you believe we almost got caught?” Your cheeks burned with humiliation. “Do you think they realised?”

Roger shrugged, tucking his cock back into his tight blue jeans. “It was your idea, Kitten,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “And I for one, actually liked it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you quipped, balling up a wad of toilet paper.

Roger leaned back against the cubicle door and watched, mesmerised as you cleaned yourself up in front of him. Even for you, this was a new level of personal space invasion. 

“Staying for drinks?” he asked casually.

You got up and flushed the toilet then turned to him with a wide grin. “Do you think the people out there realised the two of us just blasted in and shagged in their toilets?”

“It probably happens more than you might think,” he shrugged. He turned and unbolted the door, throwing a glance back at you over his shoulder. “You finish titivating yourself and I’ll get them in. They’ve got a great cocktail menu.”

“Will do,” you sighed, following him out of the cubicle and wandering over to the mirror. Mascara was caked around your lashline from Roger’s earlier efforts at putting your mouth to good use and your lipstick was smudged, leaving only your lipliner intact. Not only that but the blistering August sun had made your foundation cling to all those tiny lines on your face that you didn’t want to admit you had. You opened your bag and fished out your make up to try and fix the damage. Your hair would require a bit more effort. Roger loved it messy, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to bear being seen in a fancy place like this with a raging crow’s nest atop your head. And you weren’t even sure you packed a brush. Snapping the emergency hair tie you wore on your wrist, you reckoned that desperate times called for desperate measures, and scooped your hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to god that Roger wouldn’t get the wrong idea and get another boner for you to take care of tonight. Then you swiped on some lipstick, blended out your mascara and your foundation and blotted on some powder to take the shine off. It never ceased to amaze you the wonders that five minutes in a quiet bathroom could do as you puckered up your lips to blot the excess rouge off. You topped it all off with some perfume and you were good to go.

Roger waited patiently at the bar, seductively sucking an olive from a cocktail stick and eyeing the cocktail menu from over the frames of his glasses. His shirt sat askew and his hair stuck up in all directions, but somehow he fitted right in with the opulence of a place like this. You could  tell he was a big deal. Sometimes, it took your breath away and made the butterflies resurface all over again, remembering that he was yours and no one else’s.

His eyes lit up when he saw you wander over to him from across the crowded room. Like two strangers on an awkward first date, unsure of how to approach each other. But pleased they had found themselves in the same place at the same time.

For some reason, putting one foot in front of the other was much more troublesome in this situation. Not from a day of wandering around Montreux, but from sheer nerves. Feeling your chest burn, you noticed all eyes in the room were on you; you ran your fingers through your ponytail, smoothed down your dress, and sucked your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them. Your heart thudded, wondering what exactly was wrong with you. Why were these people staring?

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a dump like this?” Roger smirked when you finally reached him.

“Fella done me wrong,” you joked, hoisting yourself up on the stool next to him. You stole an olive from the dish in front of him, and elbowed his side.

Roger scanned the room at the people who stared at you. Not looking at you, he smiled. “You’re a real head turner, darling.”

“That’s probably you…” you paused, thinking of your next move. 

Why not go with it? 

This was the perfect backdrop to the most perfect date you could imagine. Admiring Roger in the glow from the low-hanging lamps over the bar, you asked him your burning question. “Would you like some company for the night?”

Roger turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. He slapped his hand on your thigh and said, “Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, beautiful.” 

He was playing along.

You scooted closer to him, peering over his shoulder to read the menu in his hands, laughing quietly at the names. “I like the sound of a ‘Money,’” you said, pointing to the page.

“I’m loving this ‘Let’s Dance’ one,” Roger replied. “You know, darling, I’m actually friends with Bowie.”

You knew this. You had seen David’s number pop up on Roger’s phone on numerous occasions, and the comments they’d leave on each others’ Instagram posts. But for the sake of going along with your perfect first date, you widened your eyes in shock. Over played, hammy, fake shock. “Really? What’s he like?”

“Oh he’s great. Peculiar guy. Cracking wardrobe.”

“So are you famous or something?” you pressed, beaming at him.

The bartender ducked between you and Roger – he looked like something out of a 1920’s speakeasy, complete with black armband, suspenders and a moustache. “Monsieur Taylor – que désirez-vous?”

Roger stumbled for a moment, with an um and an ah and then, in perfect French he ordered. “Je voudrais un Money, et pour la dame, une Let’s Dance s’il vous plait.”

“D’accord Monsieur.”

Something about Roger speaking French went straight to your legs; or rather, the spot between them. “You haven’t answered my question,” you prodded, looking visibly flustered by Roger’s linguistic prowess, and squeezing your thighs together for good measure.

“You could say that, darling,” he said, shovelling a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I’m the drummer in a rock band.”

“Oh so you’re a rockstar?” you cooed. “Will I have heard of you?”

“I don’t know, darling. Ever heard of Queen? We’re kind of a big deal,” he boasted in a charmingly modest fashion.

“So that’s where I’ve seen you!” you said with wide eyes. “Personally, I’ve always thought they were kind of shit.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead he did that thing he usually did, where he desperately moved his lips as his usually sharp and nimble brain played a game of catchup. It lasted a few awkward seconds where all you wanted to do was to break character and yell ‘kidding’ at him. But eventually, he changed the subject. “What brings you to Montreux, darling?” he asked, resting his head against his hand as he leaned on the bar and gazed adoringly at you.

“Just some bloke, really,” you sighed.

“Really? And here was me thinking I had a chance,” he pouted. “What’s your man like?”

You lowered your eyebrows and flashed him a smile that made him instantly wish he had never even asked that question. “Well,” you hummed, “he’s lovely. I met him on Tinder, and if you ask me, he’s far too old to be on there. But anyway, I let all that slide. Gave him a chance.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because he’s everything I could ever want. Shorter than I thought from his pictures, though. Still tall enough. Handsome. Great dress sense. He’s surprisingly intelligent, considering how beautiful he is. And, here’s the kicker. He has the most devilish, vile sense of humour I’ve ever encountered.”

“He sounds like a catch,” Roger sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He is. I’ve only been with him a short while and he’s completely changed my life for the better. I’m so much more confident because of him. But anyway, why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him and shuffling in your seat.

“A woman.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s the polar opposite of my ex wife and the kind of woman I should’ve married. So sensible and carefree at the same time. And she really makes me want to be better, you know? I never felt like I could have a life with my ex wife. But this girl. God, she’s got me thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ve missed the boat with all the settling down business. I hope not. Because she’s all I want.”

“And yet you’re in a fancy bar, buying a strange girl a very overpriced drink?” you asked with a wink.

“I think we’ve met before,” he sighed, closing his eyes ever so slightly.

“I think so too,” you said.

Roger turned his gaze towards the bartender, watching him as he made your drinks. You could barely hear the sounds that came out of his mouth. But his lips sure as hell looked like they were saying something important. 

Like: “I love you.”

>> NEXT >>

[jaeyleo]

"i'll never let anyone else hurt you" with anti and johnny? 👀👀 (sorry johnny in advance askgdhjgfgj)

tws: fire, those creepy tendrils anti has

also i’m tagging @beerecordings just this once cos i feel like you might appreciate some strong boy johhny so. yeah!

aLSO i changes the quote a little i hope that’s ok!!

———

There’s a fire in him somewhere.

It burns bright and loud, raging through forest and eating the dead leaves and branches, licking at the dirt it crawls upon and screaming as its light clashes with the light of the moon and stars.

It burns thick and horrible, leaving havoc in its path. It burns, forever dangerous, seeking the corrupted blood of a fallen star the skies once called King.

Jonathan races through the trees and forest, scraping his skin against the barks as he rushes past them. His hands burn with a crimson light, and those scarlet glowing eyes cast warm shadows against his blue mask. He can feel the fire trailing behind him, and the fingertips of the smokey tendrils kiss his clothes as try to grasp at his limbs.

Horrible laughter fills the space around him and he bares his teeth, running faster. It echoes in his brain, bouncing off the walls of his mind like a rubber ball against cement.

Eventually one of the tendrils grasps his ankle, pulling hard against his leg and dragging him to the ground. His body hits the dirt with a loud thud as the air is let out of his lungs. It’s even harder to breathe now.

The tendril scrambles up his leg with spider fingers, calling more to grab his wrists and drag him down into the fire he himself created. Jonathan screams and screams, feeling the frost bitten touch of this awful magic. One comes sneaking up his stomach and chest, crawling inside his mouth and hushing him immediately. He stops thrashing, stops screaming, stops fighting, even as the flames he summoned in his wake crackle and wail as they eat the dead things around them. They do not hurt his skin when he goes through them.

He shakes as he is dragged through the woods, trying to breathe deep with the tendril lodged inside his throat. He knows that if he fights Pseudo’s magic, it will move up inside his head. Make a home. Use his veins as a space for slumber. He doesn’t want the parasite.

Once through the flames, he comes out the other side of the forest. Here Pseudo stands, with those tendrils coming out of his body like legs of a spider. Everywhere. Bending and twisting and shifting, whispering little lies and loves to the world around them.

“Haven’t I taught you not to run, Skat?” Pseudo says, as the boy is slowly brought to him. He still shakes, whimpering here and there as he feels the little tendrils move and giggle.

The one in his mouth his withdrawn, allowing John to scream in anger and pain from the freezing grips of the magic against his skin. “I fucking hate you!!” he cries. “Why are you here! What do you want from me, Anti?!!”

Antavriel smiles looking up at the forest flames. “That.” he replies. “I want that.”

Jonathan thrashes against the tendril hands, with their freakish long arms and their wrists made of twig. He summons more fire to fill his space.

Anti screams, dropping to his knees and the hands begin to shake as the fire eats them alive. He sends the tendril back to the boy’s throat, this time, letting it suffocate him. The fire stops, and Jonathan begins to trash and convulse and wail as he feels it reach all the way through his esophagus, like a million spiders inside his throat, all making a web. Just threading, threading, threading. Suffocating, sufffering. Shh.

“You’re mine, Jonathan.” Anti seethes, standing up and staring at his prey as it fights. “You’re mine! Nothing else will hurt you but me. Nothing.”

Jonathan explodes with power, screaming with a voice once trapped, bursting with flames all around him. They turn the tendrils into nothing, and begin to feast upon their attacker. Their Pseudo.

Slowly the Knight stands, watching the flames draw ebony blood. Anti screams and screams, thrashing as he is held down by a Knight’s magic. A Knight’s magic, made to defend, made to honor, made to kill the corrupted stars the skies once called King.

“You, will leave me the fuck alone.” the Knight spits. “You’ll leave my Uncles alone, you’ll leave my friends alone, you’ll leave the fucking dirt on my shoes alone.”

Jonathan sees a hole in Anti’s chest, where the fire has drawn what little light the King has left. It waits for the command to kill. To kill the King. The corruption. The parasite. The monster.

It waits, but Jonathan calls it back. Silent, the fire obeys.

“I’ll kill you, Anti. I’ll fucking kill you. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

[clownistyping]

The Neverending Story, 4

Really dived into reader's past with this one. Hope you enjoy uwu.

First

Previous

Next

Cover by @laneygthememequeen

Beetlejuice stands in the living room, scanning the room he sees that the walls are empty. No sign of a personal life. Just empty shelves and dusty side tables. 

"Jeez, they really are boring." He mumbled and took off his damp coat, hanging it on the back of a chair. He inspected the room more, opening and closing drawers. Pocketing some change he knew you could do without. 

Walking down the hallway he passed a single door, but suddenly he felt his spine shiver. Looking back at the door he raised a brow. Grabbing the handle, it didn’t budge. Turning his finger to a key he unlocked and opened the door, it led to stairs that go up, walking up the stairs he reached the attic floor. 

Scanning the premise he smirked, box on top of box. Each box had written a different decade or country. 

“Jack pot.” 

He ripped open a nearby box deemed ‘Japan, edo period’, packing peanuts came flying. In the box was a scroll and a sheathed katana. “Ooo” he opened the scroll, its calligraphy ink was disappearing. Setting it down he unsheathed the katana, he looked at his reflection in it and smiled. 

“Hello handsome.” he smirked and dug deeper into the box. Pulling out another scroll he opened it to reveal an ancient illustration. A samurai stood with his sword and next to him was a figure who covered their face with a fan. The eyes resembles yours and he chuckled, on the bottom was written ‘The immortal and a samurai.’ 

Searching more boxes he found more strange objects; antique photos of you with strangers, vintage objects that had your initials carved in it. From what he’s seen the attic held all evidence of your immortal existence. By the twelfth box he was sweating, there’s still tons more to go. 

“Damn (Y/N), you really are an immortal.” He mumbled with a frown, compared to you he’s pretty pathetic. You’ve been everywhere twice but act as though you’ve lived a simple life. Not saying he’s jealous but his eyes are turning a lil green. 

Beetlejuice was covered in packing peanuts by the end of his exploration, but still he felt unsatisfied. Scanning the room again he noticed behind a pile of books and boxes was a doorknob. 

“How many rooms you got?” He crawled over to the door, knocked the boxes out of the way he grabbed the handle. It didn’t budge. 

“What are you hiding, (Y/N)?” He whispered and peaked in the key hole, the room was dark but he saw a small shine from a chain. Beetlejuice used his key finger and unlocked the small door, crawling into the room. The ceiling squished his hair and he couldn’t go to the left or right, this room definitely wasn’t built for his shape. 

Blindly he searched the small room and found a small chest, wrapped in chains. Pulling the box out of the room with him he groaned. Feeling his back he grumbled that he’s getting too old for this. 

Staring down at the box he tapped it, putting his ear against it, he heard something move inside. He raised a brow, what the hell is in this thing? He tugged the chains but again it didn’t budge, with a sigh he used his finger key to unlock the chains. The chains fell with a loud drop, and he panicked. Looking at the stairs he bit his lip, ‘Please don’t come up please don’t come up.’ It was quiet. 

Looking back at the chest, he slowly opened the chest’s lid. Light beamed from inside and his dark eyes widened, “Holy shit.” he whispered. 

In the chest held a dagger, on the handle was carved ‘Immortal Blade’. It sat on top of a soft velvet pillow. “So this is where you keep your toys?” He smirked and went to grab the blade but once his finger grazed it, he was shocked. 

“Aw fuck!” He yelped holding onto his now tingly hand. 

“Beetlejuice?! Where are you?!” You yelled from downstairs. 

Beetlejuice panicked and suddenly the chest’s lid slammed shut and locked. 

“Oh come on..” he tried to open it again but the chest rumbled in response. Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and he stood. Trying to hid the chest in packing peanuts, it failed only a few stuck on it. 

“What do you think you’re doing up here?” You glared at the demon who whimpered in response. 

“Uh..spring cleaning?” He laughed nervously as you walked closer to him, your eyes dark. You looked down at the chest behind him and your upper lip raised. 

"You bastard." You growled and lunged towards him, effectively knocking him down over the chest. You sat on his stomach glaring down at him. 

"The attic was locked for a reason!" You yelled and grabbed him by his tie. 

"Look at this mess you made!" You directed over to the crowd of packing peanuts. Beetlejuice chuckled nervously.

"Damn ya sexy when ya pissed" he winked and you cringed, getting off of his chest. Looking down at the chest you sighed. 

"Did you open it?" You asked as you squatted to check the chest. With a small laugh he nodded. 

"Kinda? It closed itself though." He said and sat up. 

"What is that thing anyways? A cool knife to stab your enemies?" He asked and you sighed. 

"Not exactly." You opened the chest and took out the dagger. 

"It's the immortal blade. Created by the first ever immortal, made to kill other immortals." You pointed the dagger at him, "Only immortals can handle the blade." 

"Ever used it?" He asked but then blinked "wait there's more of ya?" 

You nodded "lots more of immortals, but only two daggers." You stayed quiet for a second. 

"I've only used it once." You whispered but he still heard you. You tighten your grip on the handle as you remember a memory from centuries ago. 

Rough panting was heard from the dark alleyway, you yelped as a knife was thrusted towards you. The candles street light flickered in the dark, the cobblestone streets were covered in blood. It's the Victorian era, and you're being attacked by a bloodthirsty immortal. 

"Fuck!" You dodged the dagger with your hand but it managed to slice your hand. Blood splattered onto the man who held the dagger. 

"I will be the only one!" He screeched and lunged at you again, the dagger scratched against your shoulder and you punched the man in the face. 

"Stop it! What's wrong with you!?" You seethed in pain, the man held his bloody nose. 

"You are inferior! I will be the only immortal!" He panted and ran towards you, swiping the knife you dodged and he ran past you. You managed to kick his knees in and he collapsed onto the ground. 

Stepping onto his back you heard a crack, snatching the dagger you were panting as your blood dripped onto him. The man groaned under you, trying to grab your ankle you kick his head. He groans again and you look down at the blade. 

"What is this?" The man coughed up blood onto the cobblestone. 

"The immortal blade." He mumbled and you lifted him by his shirt, leaning him against the wall. 

"It can only." He coughed again "kill immortals" he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer. 

"Immortals like you." Your eyes widened. 

"How did you know that?!" You asked and put the dagger against his neck, he chuckled. 

"You've left your mark everywhere, for centuries I've seen you everywhere." He continued. 

"You're foolish, leaving evidence of your existence in every country. I'm surprised you weren't killed earlier." He spat his rotten blood in your face and you cringed. 

"I will never be found." You seethed as you sliced the man's neck open with the blade. 

Shivering as you held the blade you looked up at the demon, who in return smiled at you. 

"Flashback?" He chuckled and you looked away in embarrassment. 

"Just get out of my attic…" 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

TAG LIST

@if-youd-be-my-soft-fuzzy-man @dunununun @theannonomusgamblerpt2 @laneygthememequeen @zelda2248 @anamoshigirl @obsessed-librarian @randomfanders-blog @holy-fucking-shit @juni-berries @rallsa @ladylensveracity @lokischesthair @vivienex13 @ah-callie @1-rosewiththorns @apocalypseillustrate @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @westiefromtheeast @buggbeverage

[crewhonk]

Of The Line (7)

REBLOG THIS CHAPTER TO STAY ON THE TAG LIST!!!!

Summary: The team take to Sokovia, and everything begins to unravel for YN

Warnings: fluff, everything that comes with fights, minor character death, YN and Steve make plans for a future they may never have, Gio and YN are badass, Pietro is a darling flirt

Words: 3K (she lied like a liar)

Songs: Seven Nation Army-- white stripes, Survivor (2we remix), what’s up danger-- blackway, m.A.A.d city-- Kendrick Lamar

AN: PLEASE, PLEASE COMMENT AND LIKE AND REBLOG OUR WORK! We’re getting a little discouraged due to the recent lack of notes on this series!

Till The End Masterlist / Of The Line Masterlist

________________________________________

The water dripped from the ceiling onto the stone floors of the basement, and YN’s skin erupted with goosebumps at the chill of the dungeon. Her, Giovanna and Bruce were walking down the stairs looking for Natasha desperately— the plan was simple. Help her dad find Natasha, make sure they got to safety and then return to the mainland to help the team fight Ultron. 

“Natasha!” YN shouted into the empty room. Giovanna mimicked her call and it was only when her dad called for Nat that she responded.

“Guys?” She called out and they all sprinted towards the sound. Natasha was locked into an actual cell, bars and all, and YN and Giovanna rushed to them, clutching them in their hands and helping Natasha to her feet. She seemed tired but overall relatively healthy. 

“You okay?” Giovanna almost sobbed, reaching through a gap in the bars and pulling her closer. YN did so too, needing her other best friend close after all the worry of her being kidnapped. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She whispered, voice raspy.

“The team's in the city, it's about to light up,” YN informed her and Natasha clenched her jaw, rolled her shoulders and nodded. “Civilians are being evacuated as we speak and Dad’s gonna take you out of here to safety.”

“Job's not finished.” 

“You guys could help with the evacuation, but dad can't be in a fight near civilians. And you've done plenty. Your fight is over.” YN reassured and Natasha dropped her head in relief. 

“I’m so tired. Did you find a key anywhere?”

“Yeah, I did.” Bruce piped up and YN and Giovanna squealed and ran when he held up a gun the size of his torso. He blasted the lock away and YN bumped his shoulder. 

“I knew you were just as crazy as I was.”

“Where do you think you got it from?”

____________________

The sky was falling. Literally, rocks were falling on them and dust was in their eyes and YN needed an inhaler because she just couldn’t breathe. Giovanna had summoned her suit and was protecting the other three as well as she could, but it didn’t stop a few rocks from striking any of them in the head or shoulder. 

“We gotta move.” She grunted as a rather large slab of cement broke over her shoulders. 

YN turned to her dad whose eyes were darting around anxiously. “You’re not gonna turn green?” She asked. She could feel her own skin start filling with gamma ad=nd the muscles in her body begin to grow— she didn’t know how he did it. They came upon a cavern int their search for a flight of stairs, and they ran put to the edge of a hole to see if there was any way out. 

“I've got a compelling reason not to lose my cool.” He looked down at his baby girl and she smiled fondly. 

"I adore you.” She whispered, cupping his cheek and ignoring the way her heart was beating in her throat. “But I need the other guy.”

And with that, she shoved her own father over the edge and turned her eyes away from the hole, not needing to see her fathers body hit the ground. That didn’t, however, brace her for the sound of him landing and then a dull, confused roar echoing in their ears. 

There was the sound of two dustbin lid-sized feet hitting the ground and YN turned to see The Big Guy grinning down at her. She smiled despite herself— whenever Big Guy decided to show his face to her, he was almost as threatening to her as a golden retriever was. 

“Hey, bud.” She forced a smile on her face and he smiled back, not realizing that YN’s was very much fake. 

“Let’s go be heroes.” She said, taking Giovanna’s free hand (the other was already holding on to Natasha) and blasted off through the glass ceiling. 

______________

Natasha was dropped off as soon as they hit the flying city— not having much will or practice to be hanging from Giovanna as she flew one hundred kilometres an hour through the air. Giovanna took YN to one of the back streets— a place of the town that seemed to be mostly populated by the robot minions, and dropped YN on the ground. 

“Do we know how to shut them down?” YN asked, pulled a gun from her thigh holster and shooting an incoming droid in the neck, blowing it apart. “Like that, I guess.” She hummed. 

“Steve said we had to take out all of them so He didn’t get away,” Giovanna grunted as she blasted through ten more robots.

“He does realise only like, three of us can fly, right?” YN jumped off of a wrecked car and onto the back of a flying robot, tearing its head off with her bare hands. She crashed back to the ground and held her bleeding fingers to her chest. 

“Yeah, but he also realizes we’re too stubborn to let that stop us.” Giovanna replied, motioning for her to turn her comm systems to the main channel. YN did and was immediately greeted with a grunt from Steve. Giovanna laughed loudly at the expression on YN’s face. 

“Happy you could join the party.” Steve gasped. There was the sound of crunching metal and then him huffing out another breath of air. 

“You really do have skewed versions of what a party is, don’t you?” Natasha replied. 

“Awe, family reunion! This is cute.” YN cooed playfully, reloading her pistol and firing three more times. There was a crash of a door and an arrow barely skimmed the tip of YN’s nose and plunged into the eye socket of a robot crawling its way towards her. Her head whipped around to see Clint join them from a building to their left. 

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing, will you?” YN shouted, heart racing fast in her chest. Clint shrugged and knocked another arrow. 

“I never miss, you know that.” He smiled.

“You did that one time—“ Giovanna teased above them, landing on a car a few feet away and firing at a hoard of droids. 

“Yeah it was one time, and I was blackout drunk. Can we not bring that up? Nat okay?”

“Natasha is stubborn and more of a fighter than any of us will ever be,” YN replied, half sarcastic. 

“She’s still fighting isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Just as she spoke, thirty more droids flew down on them, firing their blasters and Giovanna covered YN’s body just in time to shield her from a small incoming missile. They were both thrown back against an already partially crushed car, and YN swore she could feel her ribs crack at the impact. 

“Christ.” YN gasped once the air filled her lungs again. She shrunk down as Giovanna soared up once more, and when she went to grab more ammunition, her hand clasped on her empty belt. 

“Uh— guys, I’m out already,” YN said into her comms to no avail— the team was already overwhelmed themselves. “Okay, fine, I’ll do this myself.” She whined and pulled her Widow batons from her thighs and turned them on— the thrum of electricity making the hair on her arms stand on end. 

“Well,” Giovanna grunted as she was thrown hard into the ground, creating a 5 foot 3 crater around her body. “I’m officially overwhelmed.”

Just as YN was about to attack one of the droids with a fancy stick, one of the building doors crashed open and they were surrounded by an odd red mist. It wrapped around their limbs gently, protecting them as it also tore the robots limb from limb— arms and legs and torsos flying every which way. 

YN turned to see Wanda storm out, her eyes glowing red and a determined snarl on her face. She manipulated the red mist easily, and YN was filled with an immediate sense of relief as she stood and watched the forty-some robots die in front of their eyes. 

“Have I ever told you that it’s great to meet you?” YN asked as she walked closer. The girl, instead of smirking and saying something that would probably come out of her brother's mouth, frowned and stood in front of her sheepishly. 

“I am sorry I got into your head like that. That was not fair play.” And YN’s heart swelled at her words. She threw her arm around the teenage girl's shoulder and gave her a comforting one-armed hug. 

“It’s all good. There’s no room for fair play when you feel like your life is in danger.” YN smiled softly and Wanda held her chin higher than she was. 

“Sorry to interrupt the sap fest,” Giovanna sighed as she stumbled over to the pair. “But this isn’t a movie, we don’t have time to have ‘feeling talks’ right now. Let’s go play dirty, yeah?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Clint joined them, then— pressing one finger to his ear and calling the team. “All clear on the East side of the city.”

“We are not clear!” Steve sounded like he was in pain, and there was a grunt from him. YN looked frantically to Giovanna who seemed to understand and reached out her hand, ready to take off to drop YN off to help Steve. “We are very not clear!”

“On our way, Cap.” YN rushed and gripped Giovanna’s arm just in time for her to be scooped up into someone’s arms. She looked up and saw Pietro smiling down at her, his silver hair haloed by the hot sun above him and a twinkle in his eyes that suggested they were not in any sort of battle at all. 

“Climb on, Monkey.” He said to Wanda and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let’s go save your Captain.” And then he sped off. 

____________________

She was dropped off on the opposite end of the city too quickly, and Pietro let her down slowly, making sure she got her footing right before letting her go. YN smiled briefly at him before running and sliding on her knees to stick her head in a bush and throw up at the G’s they had seemed to pull in his haste to move quickly. 

“We are never doing that again— wait, have you gotten shot already?” YN panted as she looked disbelievingly at Pietro's bleeding arm. She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, using the torn piece fo fabric to wipe the corners of YN’s mouth. 

“You will get used to it.” He winked, and he looked down at his shoulder— the wound no more than a mere scratch now. “And it didn’t hurt that much. Not as much as your punch.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Maximoff.” YN smiled and scoped the edge of the city for Steve and Natasha. 

“I have a few places in mind.” He murmured before running off and leaving YN a breathless, red mess in the middle of the street. Wanda walked up beside her and nudged her. 

“I have never seen someone give Piet a run for his money in the flirting department. They always turn bright red and blubber words until he loses interest.” She smiled and watched the blue blur that was her brother run back and forth across the plaza in front of them. YN could only huff out a self-satisfied breath and begin jogging to the nearest crashing commotion. 

________________

“Captain! Steve!” YN coughed through the dust where her tracker said he was. He could hear cries of pain and worried voices of the locals muttering not far and she yelped when he came hurtling out of the smoke— not seeing her and not stopping quite in time. He caught her forearms as she was sent spiralling backwards and pulled her to him, making sure she was free of wounds before letting her go. He let out a surprised huff when she curled her arms around his neck and buried her face in the spot behind his ear. 

“I’m happy you’re alive.” She whispered before pulling back. He was grateful his face was so dirty that she was unable to see his blush on his face. God, she made him feel like he was fourteen again trying to even get close to making eye contact with Marriette O’Connell in ninth grade. 

“I’m happy you’re alive, too.” He replied, seemingly awestruck. Instead of saying just how happy he was to see her, there was a scream from the distance and he pulled away, speaking once more into his comms. 

“Guys, we’re leading the civilians to the town hall. Try to meet us there.” She took Wanda’s hand and pulled her along after Steve who was stumbling through the debris of fallen buildings. 

Giovanna, Natasha and Clint were there already, and Natasha raised her eyebrows at the sight of Wanda wearing her favourite red jacket. 

“That’s my jacket.” She commented and Wanda shifted nervously. 

“She’s with us,” Steve replied.

“Still doesn’t explain the jacket.”

“There are still civilians hiding in the buildings.” Wanda was not looking at any of them, but at the buildings around them, her eyes glowing that familiar red. 

“The airs getting thin,” YN panted, leaning against one of the pillars holding the building up. “If we go much higher, we’re going to start dropping like flies.”

“Okay,” Steve said, anxiety in his voice at YN’s expression of discomfort. He looked at Wanda. “Get them here, Barton, cover her six.”

“And what do we do?” Giovanna asked. 

“We fight robots.” He replied, and YN nodded breathlessly as Natasha handed her a few magazines of ammunition. 

“Thank you.” She whispered and steeled herself before pushing off the pillar, stumbling a little and catching herself. 

“Fight robots?” Pietro appeared seemingly out of thin air, handing Steve a disconnected metal arm and walking over to YN. He looked her up and down as if looking for any injury since she left him and nodded once he found she was just slightly breathless from the altitude. 

“Take it easy, Sweet Girl.” He hummed and brushed her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered slightly and she straightened up to her full height. 

“No promises.” She replied, forcing a charming smile on her face. He mirrored it and patted her shoulder twice. 

“That is my girl.” He swaggered back to Steve whose jaw was clenched and whose eyes were filled with nothing but loathing. “We fight robots today, yeah?” He asked before jetting off once more. Steve bristled in his wake and without sparing YN a single glance, took off into the battle once more. 

_______________________

The battle went about the same— fists through metal breastplates and broken knuckles and tired grunts. YN, Natasha and Steve all held down the east side of the town hall without too much struggle and when there was a slight reprieve from the crashing of vibranium, YN and Natasha leaned against a car, trying their best to catch their breath. 

The altitude was taking its toll on the girls, and they were dizzy and short of breath to the point that fighting for more than thirty seconds rendered them almost useless. 

Natasha was joined shortly by Steve who looked out over the tops of the clouds and sighed. “The next wave's gonna hit any minute. What have you got, Stark?”

“Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear.” Tony sounded anxious— this was nothing more than a plan to abandon their work, and if Tony of all people was planning on cutting something like this short than there may have been no other solution. YN walked over to Steve and Natasha took his other side, joining him. 

“I asked for a solution, not an escape plan,” Steve replied, voice short. YN put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, making him look at her. Immediately, the tension left his shoulders when he saw her wide, sad eyes. 

“This is the solution, Stevie. We both know this rock isn’t going to come down pretty— the less damage Tony can do, the better.” She murmured and he shook his head stubbornly, making YN roll her eyes. 

“Cap, these people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock—“ Natasha started but Steve cut her off with a hard glare. 

“Not 'til everyone's safe.”

Natasha could have snarled out of frustration. “Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There's no math there!” She half-shouted, and YN peeked around Steve’s shoulder, nodding her head and telling Natasha that it was time for her to give the pair some alone time. Natasha glowered at Steve before turning and stomping away.

“I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it.” He said to YN, voice softer and lacking the Captain gusto. YN sighed, and threw all caution to the wind, taking off her glove and shucking off his own before wrapping her hand around his, intertwining their fingers and making his breath stutter in his chest. 

“She didn’t say we should leave it, Steve.” She whispered loud enough for him to hear over the wind. He blinked, and a flash of fear crossed his face. 

“No, YN. I can’t— you’re so young you have such a life to live.” He said, turning to her. She smiled sadly and shook her head. Her free hand reached up to wipe away some blood dripping from a gash on his cheekbone. 

Without looking away from him, she smiled and her eyes filled with tears, they flickered down to his lips once before going back to his crystal blue ones. “There are worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?” She sighed and despite his heartbreaking in his chest, he felt his stomach flip. 

“There’s so much you have to see.” His voice cracked and she let a few tears trail their paths through the dirt on her face. 

“Tell me about them.” 

“The Alps.” He replied immediately. “Not the Swiss ones, the French ones. In the summer. It gets so hot there but the breeze coming off the mountains is the most refreshing thing. I’d show you everywhere me and Bucky went and I would tell you stories about the things we did. You would have liked Bucky— you both have the exact same temperament and nerdiness about you.” He tried to crack a smile but it just came off as a painful grimace. 

She choked out a half-laugh and stepped closer. “I think I would like to take you to Peru. The mountains there are gorgeous and we could have lunch at Machu Picchu. Take a picnic or something and feed the Alpacas even though you’re really not supposed to. Dad took me there when I was ten— we saved a lot of lives there.”

He hummed and his free hand cupped the side of her neck, tracing over the line of her jaw and hovering over a bruise swelling there. 

“You picked a place, and I picked a place. Where’s one place you haven’t been to, yet?” He whispered. 

“I haven’t been to Athens, yet. Gio went last year alone because I that pneumonia.” She said, and he chuckled. 

“You’re like a baby when you’re sick. But yeah, I haven’t been to Athens. Maybe we can make our own memories and stories.”

“I would like that,” YN whispered, more tears falling from her eyes. He ducked his head and just as his nose was about to touch her own, there was crackling over their comm system ad a deep voice echoed in their ears. 

“How about I give you the chance to actually do those things and keep it out of everyone's head?” Nick Fury’s voice echoed and Steve jumped away just in time to watch as the largest airbase they had ever seen fly into sight. 

“Fury, you son of a bitch.” Steve cursed, half annoyed that his moment with YN was interrupted but relieved neither of them was going to die. Pietro popped up beside the two of them and Steve made to take a side step further away from YN, remembering how much she had been flirting with the boy only half an hour before. 

“Oooh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury joked and YN could have cried at the right of flying lifeboats coming to land on the edge of the city. 

“This is SHIELD?” Pietro wondered in awe. 

“This is what SHIELD's supposed to be.” YN and Steve echoed, in equal amazement. 

“This is not so bad.”

"Let's load 'em up.”

______________________

Evacuating the city was easy enough— the citizens all wanted to get the hell out so it was only a matter of dividing the people into groups of 200 and then making sure nobody was trampled. They were all called tot he cathedral in the centre of the city soon after, and fighting the robots all together in order to protect the drill was epic in its own mind, despite neither Tony, YN or Giovanna had time or breath to make witty, sarcastic comments as they worked with the rest of the team to deplete Ultron’s bodies. 

Then, Giovanna, Vision, Thor, and Tony all put their full blast onto Ultron before Bruce had punted him no less than a mile away. 

“We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you.” Steve gasped as he watched anyone who could fly take off after the robots. YN nodded. 

“I’ll stay with you, then.” She said and he looked at her. His expression was one of annoyance, protectiveness and amusement. 

“You will get your ass onto one of those lifeboats or else—“

“Or else what?”

“Just to it, Banner,” Steve commanded and YN rolled her eyes, turning and going to walk away before facing him once more. She pulled him into a hug, and kissed the side of his neck adoringly, and he flushed red and buried his face into the side of her head. 

“Come back safe, Steve,” YN whispered into his ear and he allowed the shiver he would have repressed under any other circumstance to shake his spine. 

“I will always come back to you, YN.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

_____________________

“Dad!” YN shouted as she hopped out of the back of the racer Clint and Natasha had found. He was in a park, tearing the slide in two when she found him, and he looked at her and growled, throwing the plastic the ground and stepping on it so it lay flat against the gravel.  

She put his extra clothes on a bench she passed and walked over to her dad, hands out. He looked at her, and Big Guy seemed to recognize her. He stepped forward and YN smiled encouragingly. 

“You did amazing things, today Dad. You were a hero. How about you shrink down for a bit and when we get home I’ll make some cheesecake? We can eat the whole thing in the lab if you want.” YN started talking and she could see the green fling from Hulks skin. 

“And you can even wear your cartoon T-Shirts and I won’t even tease you about it? Maybe I can wear one and we can match, okay?” YN continued, and just as she held out her hand to wrap around one of his fingers, there was the sound of gunfire, a splitting pain at the spot just above her kidney and then black.

______________________

YN woke up the sound of steady beeping— slow, but steady. The room she was in was filled with sunlight— she could see it through her closed eyelids, and someone was playing the most recent Tame Impala album. There was the smell of flowers, floating around, but the scent wasn’t strong enough to cover up the equally strong scent of cleaner and antiseptic. 

She grunted and lolled her head to the side to find a freshly showered, tired-looking Giovanna. 

“You look like shit.” YN’s voice was raspy and Giovanna’s head shot up so fast YN was surprised she didn’t sway in her seat. 

“You’re alive!” She whisper-shouted, voice thick with emotion. Giovanna immediately stood from her pouty chair she was sitting in by the open window and motioned for YN to move over so she could sit by her hips, facing her. There was a hint of dread in her face, and YN’s monitor picked up. 

“What happened.” YN deadpanned and Giovanna dropped her gaze nervously. “Who died?”

“YN I’m so sorry—“ Giovanna whispered, and YN’s heart monitor beeped louder. She tried to push herself onto her elbows, but she had been out so long her muscles were weak with exhaustion.

“Who. Died.”

“Pietro. He died saving Clint and this kid.” Giovanna’s voice was barely audible but YN heard it as if the girl had screamed the words. 

“No. No, no, no, no, no— he can’t— he couldn’t. No.” YN found herself finding it harder and harder to breathe, and it looked like Giovanna was biting her tongue to stop more bad news from spilling out. 

“I’m so sorry, YN— Dios mío.” She whispered as she pressed an oxygen mask to YN’s face. She waited thirty seconds before pulling it away.

“Something else happened.” YN gasped, pressing the oxygen to her face again, and Giovanna started crying. She leaned over YN’s body and pressed her face to her chest.

“YN, please— I don’t—“ Giovanna whimpered and YN lay frozen, making no move to comfort her like she would have normally— the dread in her body seemed to paralyze her bones. 

“What, Gio?”

“Your dad— he’s. He’s missing. There hasn’t been any contact with him for a week. We had to keep you sedated so your gunshots and ribs would heal faster, but we couldn’t— YN no, you can’t get up—“

“I need to find him. Only I can find him. He must be— he has to be so scared and only I can find him and calm him down.” YN rushed, pulling censors off of her chest and arms and tearing out IV’s.

“YN no, he’s gone. There’s no trace of him on the planet.” Giovanna rushed around and pushed YN back, making her weakened body tumble back onto the bed. 

“Dad’s gone?” YN whimpered, and Giovanna’s heart broke as how small her best friend looked. Instead of replying, Giovanna pulled YN to her and let the girl cry big, heaving sobs into her stomach for hours. Only until YN’s voice disappeared and she swayed in her seat was Giovanna able to push her back to the bed and pull the blankets around her chin. 

“I’m so sorry, Bubs.”

______________________

It was another two weeks later YN was released on all basis— her wound had healed perfectly, and while it still shattered her that both Pietro and her father had disappeared from her life, YN continued to repress the fears that her dream had surfaced. Giovanna wouldn’t leave her. Steve wouldn’t leave her. She could place the rest of her bets on them— she had lost the bet on her father, but two-thirds were still pretty good odds, right?

Outside of the compound, Steve and Tony were walking. 

“I will miss you, Tony.” Steve clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder and Tony nodded, looking out to the window where YN and Giovanna had their arms wrapped around the other, watching from YN’s physical therapy session. Tony wouldn’t be gone long, and the girls would be able to visit him anytime they wished— it was Steve and Natasha he wouldn’t be seeing for a while— they both had work to do. 

"Yeah? Well, it's time for me to tap out. Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book and build Pepper and Giovanna a farm, hope nobody blows it up.” Tony turned back to Steve and smiled wistfully. Steve raised his eyebrows.

“The simple life,” Steve commented, and Tony huffed a laugh. 

“You'll get there one day,” Tony replied, jutting his chin in the direction of the compound. Steve followed the motion and his eyes set on YN who had yet to let the sadness in her eyes leave since she woke up. 

“I don't know, family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out.” Steve sighed, turning away from the woman of his dreams and back to Tony who rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“I see the way you look at my niece, Rogers.” Tony’s voice was hard. “It’s okay to not want all that domestic life with nobody else but one person.”

Steve was quiet and he dared a brief glance put to YN and Giovanna who were starting to turn back into the gym— YN using crutches and Giovanna hovering closely. 

“She’s good. She’s too good for someone like me— I’ve done things that would make her horrified to even know me.” He sighed. “She’s so young, too— and I don’t want her to have to settle early enough for what I want in life.”

Tony rubbed his eyes but remained patient. 

“Rogers, you are the best man I’ve ever met besides myself. And she truly doesn’t want anyone else but the man who is too stubborn to admit that you are both perfect for each other. Fuck the rules, Steve. Be a little selfish.”

Steve chuckled despite the irritation growing in his chest. “There are rules for a reason, Tony. Maybe it’s just best for everyone if they’re followed.” 

Tony began to climb into his car, and he poked his head out to lower his glasses and glared at Steve. “Everyone but the two people who it doesn’t, right?”

“I’ll keep in touch, Tony.”

“Take care of my girls, Rogers! Or you’ll have me to answer to!” Tony yelled as he pressed his foot to the gas pedal, and Steve only shook his head and watched Tony drive off until he turned the bend and disappeared from sight.

____________________

Taglist (must reblog at least three chapters, send an ask to be added): buckybarneshairpullingkink / staringmoony / through-the-crevices / highladyofasgard / @i-am-always-famished / @filia-sapientiae / @somekryptonitewriting / @fashionlive15 / @godlymissbalor / @fanfictionjunkie1112 / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @songforhema / @army-crawl-andersen / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @shynara51 / @deathofmissjackson / @a–1–1–3 / @liffydaze / @shymarvelfannanni / @freakpotterfan / @callie-bear15 / @sunflower-borhap-boys / @criedwolfwritings/ @vxidnik / @captainomad / @lazinessisalliknow / jjlevin / @gwlaxygirl / liaswhorable / @notyourtypicalrose / @madlymadzzz