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comfy-whumpee · 2 years ago

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Birdhouse: Left Behind

@neuro-whump, @rosesareviolentlyread, @whumper-in-training, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpsday, @firewheeesky, @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

End of the Roman’s Rescue arc! BBU. Previous piece here.

Tyler wasn’t there on the first day. He took it off, booked it ages ago, figuring he’d have a hangover and need to sleep it off before January kicked in. He was lying in bed at home, blinds closed and covers up to his chin, staring at the ceiling.

January blues, they called it, but this was something else. He hadn’t gone out last night. Hadn’t done anything but sit awake in front of the TV. He’d eaten takeout and watched the quiz show and the variety act and the fireworks. He’d watched the commercials too. He’d stayed up for the ancient sitcom reruns. He’d stayed up until the room stank of greasy pizza and his back ached from being in one place for hours. He’d crawled to bed without brushing his teeth or even changing. It wasn’t like he’d gotten dressed.

He almost didn’t even pick up. If Charlie was calling him, he had a real excuse not to pick up today. Even if he’d be in the shit for not helping when it could have been urgent, it wasn’t like he could be in more trouble.

But really, if he was honest, that was why he had to take it. If he was going to chicken out and not do anything for Roman, he could at least not abandon the poor guy.

“Hey Charlie,” he said, wincing at the sound of his voice. He hadn’t talked to anyone since his mom went home on Boxing Day and he sounded like he’d been gargling gravel.

“I need you to come in.”

“It’s my day off--”

“Let me rephrase. The cops need you to come in.”

“Oh shit.” He clambered out of bed, hunting for his work clothes in the clean laundry pile. “What happened?”

There was a heavy pause. Then Charlie said, slowly, “You’ll find out when you get here.”

Tyler made it to the office in twenty-five minutes. Not all the way, though. He was stopped outside the doorway, after riding up from reception. There was police tape over the door. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step back.”

“I’m Tyler, I work here,” he said absently. The office looked normal from the part he could see. Clean and bright, with some guy milling around in a hazmat-looking suit.

“Can I see some ID?”

“Uh, yeah,” he tore his eyes away, “yeah, sure. Here.” He flips his wallet open and lets the cop take note of who he is. “Alright, Mr Schatz. I’m going to let them know you’re here, and then we can get you caught up.

Caught up. So everyone else knew what it was about. They’d all been here, of course. He nodded numbly and stared at the hazmat guy until someone came and took him by the elbow. “Mr Schatz. Come and join us in the security office.”

They went downstairs Tyler looked as he was led and saw the regular security guy was standing outside the elevators, hands in his pockets. There must be a real thing happening if he wasn’t involved or even trying to be. Something serious was going on.

The office was cramped with two other officers and the four others. Charlie was the only one who acknowledged Tyler with a tense nod. Joel glared at the wall, Dillon sat on one of the desk chairs looking tired, and Phil hovered nervously against the wall.

“Mr Schatz, thank you for joining us. When was the last time you were in this building?”

Tyler glanced at Charlie. “Uh, before Christmas. Twenty-second.”

“And do you recognise any of these women?”

He looked. There were six ID-looking pictures on a tablet screen in the officer’s hands. He glanced over them. “Uh, number three, that’s Macy, our cleaner. I don’t recognise any of the others.”

He wanted to ask what this was about, but between the nerves in the room and the abrupt interrogation, he figured it was better to keep his mouth shut. Don’t say anything to incriminate himself, just cooperate.

“I see. When was the last time you saw Roman?”

“Uh.” Roman? Oh god, had something happened to him? “S-Same day, twenty-second. Is he okay?” He looked to Charlie, to Dillon, hoping one of them had taken him home after all. “What happened?”

“Your colleagues came into work this morning to find him absent,” the cop finally explained, fixing him with a stare. “We believe he has been stolen.”

Of course. Roman wouldn’t leave. He’d said that so many times. He wanted to be here. He’d refused to be saved. Tyler was distantly aware of his face burning. “Fuck. Uh. When?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know that yet. So far, the only person we know visited the business was your cleaner.” Hard, dark eyes. “We’ll be taking statements today.”

Tyler looked again to the others. He’d gone to college with these guys. The assholes wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Charlie had told them, told the cops, that it was him. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“It’ll just be a few questions, Mr Schatz.”

Yeah, no. That look, that silence. He needed a fucking lawyer, and he needed a cup of coffee, and he needed ten minutes alone to cry, because Roman was absolutely fucking gone and--

“Was there - any sign of a struggle?”

“Not that we have seen so far.”

…and he’d left on purpose. Not with Tyler. With the cleaner. Or on his own. Or something, without ever saying that he would. All this time he’d been debating whether he could abandon Roman, but the choice hadn’t been his to make. Roman had abandoned him.

He knew what he had to do.

“Fuck,” he said again. “Fuck!” He turned away, slamming his hand into the wall, knuckles cracked against the paint. “Fucking asshole! After everything I, everything we did for him.” He took a breath, feeling the emotions swell up, pushing against him like an overinflated balloon. “Fuck!” he shouted, and the volume jarred something loose. His face was bright red, he knew. His voice was cracking. He pushed his fists into his eyes. “I’m so stupid.”

“Take a seat, Mr Schatz,” the cop said, voice cuttingly calm. We’ll be with you when we’re ready.”

Yeah. Yeah, whatever. Tyler sat down in the other chair and threw a hand over his eyes. Roman might have lied about wanting to stay, but he’d suspected that. If someone had given Tyler the chance to leave, he certainly wouldn’t say no to that and he worked here for real. It hurt to be left behind, that was all. It hurt to be alone. It hurt to be even more isolated than before. It really fucking sucked to be a suspect.

But the more angry he seemed at Roman for leaving, the easier it would be to excuse the sympathising he’d done before. He could shout and swear and punch things if that was what it took. His old man had always gotten away with it.

He was going to quit this job. He knew that right now. No matter how it looked, he needed to get away from this. He’d find somewhere established, that didn’t buy pets for secretaries, and maybe they’d even have real lunches and not work overtime and get weekends off and all of the other stupid start-up shit he had to do.

Fuck these assholes, sitting around like they didn’t all think he did it, not looking at him when it was their fault Roman ran. He didn’t want to be here when the shit went down. They’d tank without him, but they’d probably tank with him too. He didn’t want to be on the sinking ship. He’d go somewhere where he could work under a director, and get a 401k, and be stable.

Maybe he’d find somewhere that was cool with gays.

Maybe he’d figure out how to donate to some pet lib thing.

That evening, he logged into his throwaway account for the first time since Charlie had sent him home.

holepunch6409: is he safe?

She took three hours to reply.

BritBird03: Safe. Delete this account info from your phone and clear browser data. Good luck.

He followed her instructions, and went a step further. He uninstalled Reddit, and downloaded Grindr.

#bbu #whump #pet whump #emotional whump #are they real cops or bbu goons? who knows #my fic #roman #tyler #the birdhouse #dehumanisation

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esmealux · 2 years ago

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Pizza.

Takes place in my roommates au.

“Oh, good, there you are!” Lucifer smiles at her as she comes up from her room. “The pizzas just got here. Or pizze as they say in- wait… where are you going?” His cheerful face falls into a frown as he takes her in. All dressed up with a clutch in her hand, car keys dangling from her fingers.

Chloe looks at the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and the wine glasses waiting to be filled, to the TV, all set-up and ready to play a movie.

Guilt sinks like a heavy stone to her stomach.

“I’m going out with Dan,” she reminds him, looking down at her keys.

Lucifer’s shoulders slump, his confusion turning into obvious, heart-wrenching disappointment. Chloe knows he tries to hide it, but it doesn’t matter; she knows him too well.

“Oh. Right,” he says. “I forgot.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say, although she doesn’t know why. She’s got no reason to apologise for spending the evening with her boyfriend. So why does she feel like she has to?

“It’s all right,” he tries to assure her, but it’s not that convincing. Not when he looks like that, eyes sad and small, lips barely forming a smile.

“We’ll do it another time?” she offers.

His lips twitch just a fraction upwards, but it looks forced. Fake. “Yes. Another time.”

She tries to give him a reassuring smile and nods to the steaming pizzas on the counter. “Will you save me some?”

He smiles, for real this time, although it’s got a melancholic edge to it. “Of course.” He looks down his suit and brushes some invisible lint off his shirt. “You know I’m not that big of a fan, anyway.”

Chloe presses her lips together around a smile, her chest aching with a memory. Of the first time they had pizza together, one of the very first nights she stayed here. She’d just ordered some for herself, thinking Lucifer was eating out (or eating someone out), but then he’d been home, and she’d insisted they share it. He’d been disdainful at first, of how messy and greasy it was, watching her eat with an almost appalled look on his face. She’d asked him if he’d really never had pizza before, to which he’d replied, Yes, but never like that. Then he’d pulled out a fork and knife (from God knows where, because they didn’t have a kitchen then) and Chloe had almost laughed directly into his face. Of course, he’d eat pizza with cutlery. At least until the point she’d made enough fun of him that he’d tried to eat it like a normal person… and then—to Chloe’s amusement and Lucifer’s horror—immediately gotten sauce and cheese on his suit.

So yes, she knows he’s not a big fan of pizza. And yet, he’d still ordered pizza for them tonight. They have pizza pretty often, actually. Or at least… they used to.

Before she left, and came back. Before she started spending her evenings with someone else.

As irony would have it, the place Dan has chosen for them is a small, Italian-inspired eatery. Close to work, because he’s coming directly from there, and he’s practical like that. He orders a pizza. Chloe doesn’t. It’s greasy with cheese and pepperoni and not very Italian. It doesn’t seem to bother him.

He just eats it, like a normal person.

#one-word prompt #prompt by sox #deckerstar #roommates au #chloe decker #lucifer mornigstar #deckerstar fic

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scuttling · 3 years ago

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101

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Aaron Hotchner/Haley Brooks Word Count: 1962 Tags: No cheating, Angst, Allusions to sex, Foyet arc, Episode related 5x09 “100” Summary: In an alternate universe, “100” has a happy ending—just not for you. A/N: I'm back in the saddle... it may be a pony I'm riding, but still!

Link to A03 or read below!

It starts with a knock on your door, two months after Foyet’s attack. Haley and Jack are under protection, location unknown, and Hotch has never felt more alone.

He doesn’t tell you this, of course, never admits to anyone when he’s struggling, but when you open the door, you can see it in his eyes: usually sharp and warm, they are solemn, colder, almost unseeing. Like he hasn’t felt a thing since they left Virginia.

You invite him in for a drink. Why wouldn’t you? He is your friend, after all.

At first, he won’t talk, just strolls around your living room and focuses on your art, your knicknacks, your bookshelf and desk. Eventually, he takes a seat on your sofa, rests his beer on his knee until the condensation leaves a ring on his jeans. You try to make conversation, start with small talk, then work talk, and finally just spit out the words on the tip of your tongue: “Why here? Why me?”

Morgan gives better advice. JJ has kinder eyes. Prentiss makes him laugh. You can’t for the life of you figure out why he came to your door, to seek comfort in you.

Well. You may have an idea.

It happened during the spring, on the way back from the courthouse; you’d given depositions, just the two of you, and when you left to head back to the office the sun was shining, the air cool, cherry blossoms in full bloom. Hotch smiled, a small, private thing, and then said you should take a lunchtime detour. It was the first time you’d seen him smile in a while; you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree.

The city was bustling with people, baby-faced men in too-long trousers, serious-looking women in tailored skirts with sneakers on their feet. You felt light like the breeze blowing through the fragrant trees, and Hotch guided you to a food truck, bought two slices of greasy pizza the size of your head; he laughed when you struggled with the floppy crust, then reached out to fold the slice in half for you. “Like this, if you don’t want to wear it.”

You felt the atmosphere change in that moment, and you looked up to see if he felt it too, but his phone rang and the happy haze was lifted, replaced with terse words and the promise of a long flight. He licked pepperoni grease off his fingers and fished his keys out of his pocket, and you hadn’t thought of that moment since then.

“Why me?” you ask again, in the present, in your living room, and he shrugs, looks into your eyes like he’s willing you to back down and let him stay silent. You don’t.

“Why anyone else?”

After that, he starts talking, and once he starts talking it’s like he can’t stop. He tells you about meeting Haley, loving her, losing her; about his parents and his brother; about his scars, mental and physical; about Jack. One thing leads to another, a brush of fingers to an embrace to a kiss to the kind of sex that feels great while you’re having it and then sort of awful when you’re done.

It’s not that you didn’t want him, or he didn’t want you—you were both very willing and eager participants—but something’s missing afterward. You can tell he’s unhappy… disappointed, maybe, like he thought he’d feel less lonely after being with you and it didn’t quite meet his expectations.

You’re a little disappointed, too, though you’re not sure why.

That doesn’t stop it from happening again, and again, and again over the course of a couple months. It’s easy (for you), it's harmless (for him), and it’s comfortable, after a while, for the both of you. It scratches an itch without letting you get too close to something real, and after all he’s been through, you think it’s possible that’s for the best.

You do what you can to be what he needs, opening your door to him when he steps down as unit chief, when his face to face with Karl Arnold leaves him so angry he can’t stop shaking until you’re standing in the shower, scrubbing sandalwood shampoo through his hair. He’s there for you, too, holds you tightly when your own demons get the best of you, pushes plates of food in front of you when you’re running on coffee and stubbornness and not much else.

It’s nice. It’s… it is what it is. You love him because you can’t help it; he loves you because he thinks he’s supposed to, you’re pretty sure.

Then comes Foyet.

You are under no impression that you’ve fixed Hotch, healed him, helped him move on. Too many nights have passed where you woke up for a glass of water to find him poring over that case file, looking at the photo of the man who took his whole life away from him.

And even after all of those sleepless nights, all that searching, Foyet kills Kassmeyer. He finds Haley and Jack.

He wins.

“Fairfax County.”

Garcia’s voice rings in your ears, and you’re so glad you’re standing next to Hotch when Anderson drops off the car, because he has vengeance burning in his eyes.

“Let me,” you say softly, reaching out for him as he storms toward the driver’s side door, and when he pulls away from you, you grab his arm, hard. “We don’t even know where we’re going yet. You’re more useful if you can think straight. Let me.” Your eyes lock, and you shake him, just a little, so he’ll snap out of it and you can get on with this whole rescue sequence.

He grits his teeth, but stalks around to the passenger side, and you jump in and hope like hell you make it in time to save them.

Hotch calls Foyet, because of course he does. You’re of the mind that radio silence might buy you some time, but he’s fired up and you can’t blame him. You’ve been in situations yourself where all your training and good sense flies out the window when you’re faced with losing someone you love. You get it.

“If you touch her…”

“Be gentle, like I was with you?”

Foyet’s voice grates on your nerves, but never more so than when he says that, when he talks about what he did to Hotch like it was nothing. Like he didn’t tear him apart from the inside out. Like he didn’t all but ruin the man you love.

You tune them out, driving while they talk, hoping for more direction from your team, or hints from Foyet, anything, when you see Hotch stiffen up out of the corner of your eye.

“Aaron? I really gotta go.”

“My house,” Hotch says when the call ends, and you make the turn that will take you to his apartment. He clears his throat, shakes his head. “Our house. Where I lived with Haley.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, before making a very sudden, very unsafe maneuver so you can head in the direction of the Hotchner home. You’d been there once, marveled at the size of it, how secure it was, with a gated driveway and everything.

You figure none of that really matters now.

He gets a call from Morgan; the team figured it out too, and SWAT is on the way. You’ll probably beat them, just barely, but you know there’s no use in telling Hotch that you should wait for backup. You’re his only backup now, and it feels poetic, almost like the last couple of months were all leading up to this moment where you could finally help him be whole again. Where you could, just maybe, help him win.

“No, Sam is fine,” Hotch is saying when you tune in next; until now you’ve been laser focused on getting to that house, and you know Hotch himself couldn’t go any faster.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up, Because you're a liar?”

“Don't listen to him, Haley.”

“I have Sam's service phone right here. They sent out a mass text about his death. You can take a look if you want.” Hotch swallows hard, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“He’s just trying to scare you, Haley,” you say because Hotch can’t seem to form words. Foyet perks up at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Or is that why your marriage broke up? Did you know Aaron has a girlfriend, Mrs. Hotchner?”

“I’m no one. I just work with Hotch. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m no one.” You look over out of the corner of your eye, expecting—or maybe hoping—to see that the words pain him, just a little. It’s clear, though, that his pain is for her. His focus is on her. “Tell her, Hotch.”

He takes a deep breath, in and out.

“She’s no one. It’s only you. It’s always you.”

He’s telIing the truth, not just saying what he thinks Haley or Foyet want to hear; it both hurts and doesn’t. Strangely, it reminds you of the time you fostered a German Shepherd puppy until the rescue found her a new home: you loved that ball of fluff, hated to see her go, but deep down you knew it was for the best.

You’re a midway rest stop, not the destination. You’re the point B between points A and C.

“Aw, isn’t that sweet.”

Bittersweet, you think as you pull into the drive, put the car in park, and jump out of your car without bothering to close the door.

Hotch storms past you, rushes Foyet like his family’s life doesn’t hang in the balance. Maybe he doesn’t feel that right now. Maybe it’s just round two of Hotchner vs Foyet; maybe he thinks nothing will happen to them now that he’s there.

You’re not so certain. The moment you get a clear shot, you take it, and he falls to the ground, dead. You’re fairly certain Hotch would have beaten him to death with his bare hands if you hadn’t done the damage first, and Haley doesn’t need to see that.

Jack isn’t in the room.

Hotch runs to Haley and hugs her while you crouch down to check Foyet’s pulse; it tells you what you already knew, that he’s gone, finally, no longer a threat; the rest of your team files in just in time to see you stand, with blood on your hand that you wipe on the thigh of your pants. Hotch says something to JJ about going upstairs, and she goes while he presses his forehead to Haley’s, kisses her on the nose and the cheeks and the lips.

When JJ returns, carrying Jack, all of the Hotchners are crying, holding each other close; Jack is in the middle of them, at the center of a group hug you can tell they were all afraid they’d never know again.

It’s heartwarming. And heartbreaking. You give Morgan your statement and then walk out of the house as if in slow motion; you wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and just nod at Rossi when he asks if you need a ride home.

It ends with a knock on your door. Hotch is grateful. He loves you. But he's sorry. He’s got a second chance, and he can’t lose them again. You understand, and wish him well, and try your best not to look over at him anymore when you’re seated on the jet, try not to think of his shampoo or his touch or the weight of him at your back on the nights you couldn’t sleep.

Hotch and Haley get remarried; they invite you to the wedding.

You go. Why wouldn’t you? He is your friend, after all.

Taglist 🤍 @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @dadbodhotch11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @thinking-bucky @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921 @hxtchncr @ssahotchnerxx @vintagesubmariner @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @hotchnerxo @ashhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x haley brooks

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monster-cock69 · 2 years ago

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little angel

Moodboard made by me and AO3 link here

Pairings: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Tags: Omegaverse, age play

Warnings: Underaged sex

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

The house was stupidly large.

In the middle of a culdesac, it was far enough into Long Island that there wasn’t much noise but close enough to the city that a commute wasn’t too much of a hassle. The living room felt bigger than his and May’s entire apartment, the kitchen looked straight out of a magazine, and in addition to the master bedroom he’d share with Tony, he had a whole playroom to himself.

And the playroom looked like a wet dream.

Entire shelves were filled with toys, there was a reading in one corner, a bed shaped like a spaceship across from it, and a round nesting couch against the wall to his left.

Then, when he looked at the little table to the right, he saw the Millenium Falcon lego set sitting unopened on the table, begging to be assembled.

Turning to the alpha behind him, he threw his arms around his neck, “Holy shit Mr. Tony, can we build it?”

Tony laughed softly, unable to hide his grin, “Of course, we can build it, babe.”

It was easy to sit down next to each other and start assembling the set. They’d gotten familiar with the way they moved. Tony would call out instructions every once in a while, and they’d work on parts of the whole before joining them together. The set was too big to build in one sitting, but he hoped they’d be able to come back to it sometime.

“I think it’s time to get you fed,” Tony said once they’d made some progress. Peter wanted to protest but held back. There was no reason to press boundaries this soon, and he was a little hungry from missing lunch.

Waiting for them on the kitchen table was a box of pizza, and Peter sat on Tony’s lap to eat.

The alpha gave him a long look while he got comfortable – wiggling around told him why. Tony’s length was hard, pressing into him and the scent of barely controlled arousal was thick in his nose.

It went ignored for the most part as they ate. After their bellies were full and greasy hands wiped clean by napkins, a hand snaked into the waistband of his sweats again.

He’d been hard since scenting the alpha’s arousal and was eager to feel those thick fingers inside of him again.

But he couldn’t tear his mind from the feeling of the alpha’s cock pressing against him and felt empty at the thought of only getting fingers again.

Decision made, he swung his legs around and grasped Tony’s shoulders to steady himself.

Being face to face with the alpha made everything seem so much more real.

He’d gone home with this man – this mob boss. And, when his heat hit in a month and a half, he’d be mating this man.

He was looking at the person he’d be spending the rest of his life with – if it all went to plan – and he really wanted to fuck him.

Peter initiated the kiss, and Tony was gentle in a way he hadn’t expected him to be. His lips were just as soft as he’d imagined, and under the light taste of pizza was a hint of the cigarette he’d had in the car.

“I’m not taking your virginity here,” Tony stood up abruptly, holding Peter up by a grip on his thighs.

Peter didn’t stop kissing him. His lips made their way up Tony’s jaw, behind his ear, and at last back down to his neck where he pressed gentle kisses to his scent glands. He wouldn’t get to bite Tony there until his heat hit, but he felt inexplicapbly drawn to that spot on his neck.

The attention made his scent bloom like a flower feeling the sun for the first time. It was a strong, heady thing that encompassed Peter entirely.

He rocked into Tony as much as possible from their position, cock almost painfully hard and hole dripping wet.

Small pleas were falling from his lips, fruitlessly trying to make Tony get through the long halls faster.

“It’s okay, I’ll knot you, baby, I promise, can’t fucking wait,” the words falling from Tony’s lips only made Peter feel emptier. He was aching inside in a way that he knew no toy could sate.

Everything from the past few days had boiled over, all of the not-quite sated arousal making him feel like he was on fire.

Tony’s hands were firm where they gripped his ass, and he sucked a hickey into the skin behind the alpha’s ear while he walked.

When they got to the room Tony dropped him unceremoniously onto the bed, sending him bouncing into a mound of pillows.

They stripped carelessly, clothes getting thrown every which way. Peter was the first to finish, cock bouncing against his stomach. As Tony finished undoing the buttons on his shirt, Peter trailed a hand down his torso and past his cock. His fingers thrust inside, and the sound of Tony’s belt hitting the floor reverberated through the room.

“None of that now,” he scolded gently as he crawled onto the bed – nude at last, “you don’t touch yourself when I’m here to do it.”

A firm yet gentle hand pulled his fingers from his cunt. Tony sucked the fingers into his mouth eagerly, groaning at the taste of Peter’s slick.

Emboldened, Peter reached down and grabbed the alpha’s cock for the first time. It was hot to the touch and thick enough that Peter almost couldn’t wrap his hand around it. He thumbed the bit of precum that was beading at the head, swiping back and forth in fascination. The scent of Tony’s lust was mouthwatering and infinitely better than what had been on the scent patch.

“I need it,” he confessed, wanting to taste the alpha nearly as bad as he needed to feel him inside.

Tony soothed him with a low rumble, moving to push Peter flat on his back with one hand and grasping the base of his length with another.

The feeling of Tony’s cock entering him had him clenching on the intrusion.

He started a fast pace and kept it, hurling Peter toward orgasm at a rate he didn’t think possible. He was whining and pleading to cum, for Tony’s knot. Above him, Tony was chanting praises into his neck between kisses.

Tony’s breath started stuttering as the knot started to inflate. The increase in pressure made Peter see stars and he came with a shout.

The knot locked as his orgasm crested over him.

Carefully, they shifted so Tony was on his back, Peter’s limp form draped over him.

Tony was speaking, soft words that Peter was too close to sleep to understand. His fingers played with the thick hair on the alpha’s chest. It was damp with sweat and a sign that they’d both need a shower.

A shrill ringing made Peter jolt from his position. The knot tugged painfully inside him, and Tony tried to settle him with one hand and reached for his phone with the other.

“It’s just Stevie baby,” Tony answered the call with one hand and shifted it to another to pull a cigarette between his lips.

“You’ll probably meet him soon," he told Peter as smoke fell from his lips, "here, say ‘hi’ to him.”

He huffed, eyes growing heavy now that the ringing had stopped, “Hi Mr. Steve.”

Thankfully, he took the phone off of speaker and let Peter go back to his state of near sleep. The alpha’s voice was low and soothing, and he kept rubbing a hand on his side.

By the time the phone call finished, he was completely asleep.

#nff #nff starker #belle writes #little angel #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #avengers #starker #spiderman #iron man #omegaverse

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dollslayer · 4 years ago

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Charity Case

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: You loathe Bucky Barnes and his cocky attitude but you find yourself doing him a favor. Is he really as insufferable as he seems?

W/C: 3,830

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, uhhh kissing, that's it!

A/N: Here it is! My entry for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k challenge!! My quote was "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (in bold). I love the Heathers so I'm excited!! Hopefully I did this prompt justice. As always, if you liked it please reblog/comment! Cheers! I do not consent to my work being reposted/translated on any platform.

Main Masterlist

____

Steve was running late again. You try not to chew your nails off in frustration but he’s definitely testing you. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’s late to meet you. When he hasn’t been late he’s cancelled all together. Always with a half-ass apology of ‘Bucky needs me’. As if.

You’ve been friends with Steve since your freshman year creative writing class when the only open seat was next to him. Ever since that first day you two had been close. But not as close as him and Bucky. Childhood friends attending university together, thicker than thieves.

You always felt like Bucky was maybe a little jealous of the friendship you and Steve have. Maybe you’re a little jealous too but you’re almost positive Bucky is more jealous of you than you are of him but that’s beside the point. On top of his jealousy Bucky was just annoying. He had a girlfriend but he was always flirting with every girl he met, yourself included. Not to mention he was cocky as all hell.

Steve vouches for his character, swears that it’s all an act and he’s actually very sensitive underneath but you don’t buy it for a second. If you were his girlfriend you’d have dumped him a long time ago.

You don’t have time to dwell on your annoyance too much because Steve is rushing through the doors of the coffee shop. He looks around for you and when he finally finds you the look on his face is relieved. As he gets closer it’s clear that he’d been running to get to you in time. He’s sweaty and a little out of breath and if you weren’t so annoyed with him you’d have found it endearing that he ran here.

“There you are,” he huffs out, “I’m so sorry, I was with Bucky and I lost track of time.”

You purse your lips and hand him a napkin which he takes with a gracious nod before wiping the sweat from his brow. You hand him the iced coffee you’d ordered for him too. The ice is slightly melted from sitting there but he looks so refreshed to be drinking it.

“Figures” is all you say with a huff. If he hadn’t been doing it so often you would’ve been a little kinder about it but you were just irked.

“Seriously, I’m sorry. Nat just dumped him, he's been having a hard time” Steve explained.

“Is it because he flirts with anything that moves?” You scoff.

Steve scoffs in return “He does not! He’s just… outgoing. But no, they had their own problems.” You raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay the flirting had something to do with it but there’s a lot going on there.”

“Whatever, let’s just study for this exam while we can”.

____

You and Steve spent the next two hours cramming for your midterm together. Things were going well and you’d nearly forgotten that you were mad at Steve in the first place. Nearly.

You were so deep into your notecards that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. A voice that could grate on only your nerves. A voice that if it didn’t belong to such a bastard, might even be kinda sexy. The voice breaks your focus completely when it calls out.

“Hey, Steve, are you done already or what? Oh hey, what’s up, beautiful?”

You set your notecards down on the table maybe a little harder than you should. You shoot Steve a glare because you thought it would just be the two of you. Really? You cut in before Steve can answer his friend.

“No, Bucky, he’s not. Can we help you?”

He smirks, giving you his full attention. He knows he has you now, knows you took the bait and he’s goaded you to the point of backtalk. He pulls up a chair to the table and wedges himself tightly between you and Steve. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor as he scoots closer to you rings in your ears and makes you cringe. You look at Steve again only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“Well, sweetheart, me and Stevie boy here have plans later. Gonna do some gaming and order a pizza, really embracing the bachelor lifestyle.” He raised his eyebrows at this and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I heard Nat dumped your ass, actually, is that true?” You asked with a fake sweetness.

“Why, you interested?” He rebuffed.

You bristled at his quick response and muttered your annoyance under your breath. You chose not to respond. Instead you decided to address Steve.

“Steve, I didn’t realize that you had plans”

“Oh… yeah, loose plans…” He answered distractedly while pretending to be reading a text on his phone.

You decide to call it a day. You were getting seriously fed up with Steve’s passive behavior in all of this. Thankfully you didn’t have much to pack up, so once you slung your backpack over your shoulder you looked up at the pair to bid them goodnight.

“Well, Steve, this was… enlightening. Bucky, eat it. Goodnight fellas, have fun with your ‘bachelor lifestyle’” You said with air quotes. Turning on your heel you left before either could respond.

____

You had left the coffee shop that evening pretty upset with Steve. Of course it’s fine for him to have other friends but lately it was like he only cared about Bucky and all of your plans took a backseat to theirs. You decided you weren’t going to be the one to text Steve first, since he was being a bad friend. He could be the one to initiate plans.

He did just that when he caught you in the hallway after your midterm a week later. He jogged up to you once again and tugged on your sleeve to get you to stop.

“Hey, how do you think you did? Bet those notecards paid off, right?” He half-joked. He looked sheepish. Nervous almost. You figured it was because of what happened last time you met.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ! I’ve never been so grateful for little pieces of paper.” You scoffed. You decided to keep it light between you. You were still upset with him but his tone leads you to believe he was gonna apologize.

“Right?” He laughs nervously, “So listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately… Maybe we could get something to eat at Nick’s?”

Nick’s was the local greasy spoon on campus and they had the best breakfast food you’d ever had. You eyed him suspiciously but accepted.

“Alright, but you’re buying. And there better not be any visitors!” You add as you bound down the hall ahead of him. He knows you mean Bucky and he’s not worried because Bucky won’t be showing up today. He’s more nervous about what he has to ask you.

____

You’re sipping on pop as you play with your straw wrapper. You look up at Steve and notice he’s fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What’s up? Why are you so twitchy?” You question him.

“Me? I’m not twitchy! I was just thinking that’s all” He quickly defends himself.

“Well that was the last midterm of the semester for both of us, I think it’s safe to say you can relax.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Steve concedes quietly.

You and Steve eat in near silence, neither of you mind though because it’s comfortable. You worked on your hashbrowns when you looked up and noticed that Steve had barely touched his food. He was still fidgety, he looked nervous.

“Hey, you’ve hardly eaten anything, what’s the matter?”

He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught. Or like he’s about to come clean about something.

“Look, I wanted to say sorry I know I haven’t been the best friend lately with everything going on with Bucky. He really is having a hard time since the breakup y’know… he’s lonely”

“Right” You laughed, “I’m sure he’s soo lonely.” You rolled your eyes and picked up your fork.

“No really, he just needed a friend to be there. I think he does need to get back out there though.”

“With how smooth he thinks he is, I'm sure he’ll have a date by the end of the night. I wouldn’t worry about it, Stevie.” You responded.

“I’m serious! As much of a player as he comes off he needs to be with someone he already knows. He’s actually really sensitive.” You interrupted with another laugh. There were many choice words you’d use to describe Bucky Barnes but ‘sensitive’ is not one of them.

“But anyway, I was...kinda hoping you’d do me a favor…” Steve trails off.

Based on the conversation you just had you’re cautious. You eye him warily but motion for him to continue.

“Well, like I said Buck’s having a hard time and he needs to get back out there but he doesn’t feel comfortable hooking up with a stranger. I was thinking maybe.. You guys should hang out?”

Steve refused to look at you as he finished the question. The look on your face was a look of confusion and shock.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?” you asked in disbelief. “I mean seriously, I’m nice but not that nice.”

“Look-”

“No!” You cut him off, “You know I can’t stand that prick. Also why would I want to put myself on the long list of women he’s probably tried to fuck? I don’t buy this whole ‘sensitive’ thing for a minute.”

“I’m serious, Nat kinda crushed his heart when she left. He acts cocky but it’s a front. I just think he needs to see someone to get it out of his system. You’ve got more in common than you think. Just hang out with him once. Don’t think of it like a date, just a really really big favor. Please?” Steve begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You. Owe. Me. So. Much”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Really. But I’m not gonna bang him. Hard no on that” you said.

“Yeah, yeah of course! No problem! I’ll give Bucky your number!” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand. His hands were kidna clammy but you let him.

“Seriously, thank you. I know you think he’s some jerk but I promise he’s a good guy.” Steve adds, “A-and don’t think of it as like a date, even, y'know? I think honestly he could just use another friend. Think of how good it could be if we could all hang together some time?”

You shook your head and chuckled at his optimism while you stabbed another bite of your meal.

____

‘What’s up, sweetface?’ Gross.

‘Okay, sorry. Hi, how are you?’ Better.

‘I’m alright, you?’

‘Good. Steve tells me you’re a huge trivia nerd. Wanna go to Sally’s tn?’

‘It’s a date’ Shit. Didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. Quick- say something that will deflect before he responds!

‘And since it’s a date you’re paying’ That’ll have to do.

‘Ugh fine. Here’s hoping you’re a cheap date at least. I’ll meet you there at 9’

____

What do you wear for a date with someone that you despise? It’s just bar trivia so it’s nothing special but somehow the jeans and flannel you’ve been wearing all day don’t feel like they make the cut. You rip your closet apart trying to find something before you settle on black skinny jeans and your favorite sweater with some boots. Casual but not too casual.

You spend the whole walk there dreading the night ahead of you. Knowing that you wouldn’t even have Steve as a buffer between you made the whole evening seem daunting. At least you had trivia to distract you. You decide to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt tonight for Steve’s sake. You try to remember Steve’s insistence that Bucky’s a good guy and you have a lot in common. We’ll see about that.

When you arrive at the bar you find Bucky already waiting for you at a high-top table with two PBRs and a shot of brown liquid. Please don’t let that be whiskey. He sees you coming and smiles that damn-his-good-looks smile at you while patting the open chair next to him. The closer you get you even see that he got the whiteboard already for trivia.

“Please tell me that’s not Jameson or Fireball” you greet him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Better - it’s Jack. Sorry, doll, but I already opened the tab. This is what we’re drinking” He nudges one of the shots closer to you and motions for you to pick it up. “Come on, we gotta start the night off right, bottoms up!”

Before you can gag at the thought of drinking whiskey you grab the glass and face him. You both knock your shots on the table before clinking them together and swallowing them in one go. You grimace at the taste and feel the warmth flow all the way down your throat. You quickly take a sip of your beer to rid yourself of the taste.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re grossed out.” Bucky coos at you.

You’re embarrassed and annoyed but it goes away quickly.

“Shut up, Barnes”

You give him a light shove and he pretends like he’s about to fall off his stool, making you laugh. For someone that’s only ever annoyed you he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of being likeable when it’s just the two of you.

“You ready for me to carry you through some trivia?” You joked.

“Hey, now! I know...stuff” he concluded.

“Mmhmmm, I’m sure you do. Don’t worry, I’ll answer the questions and you just sit there and look pretty” you reach over to pat his face lightly with a wink.

Bucky grumbles before taking another sip of his beer.

You settle in for a long night when the host announces the first round is starting.

____

You managed to steal the first round without breaking a sweat, second round was a little rocky until it came down to you and one other couple. You knew the third round would be tricky but the way Bucky was cheering you on you were determined. To no one’s surprise Bucky had been completely useless so far but to his credit he was trying. At least he was a supportive teammate.

Things were going well until the third round was announced: Old School Videogames. You didn’t know shit about old school videogames. Or regular videogames. The extent of your video game knowledge started and ended with Mario Kart.

When the third round was announced though Bucky hit the table in excitement and cheered.

“Woo! Fuck yeah!” He pats you on the shoulder, “I got this, don’t worry. I so fuckin’ got this!”

He was a few drinks deep but he was so confident and he was your only hope so you went with it. He looked like a little kid the way he was practically giddy.

“You had better! There’s some serious prize money riding on this round.” You said in warning.

“No, no. You don’t understand that I’ve GOT this. Your turn to look pretty, not that it’s gonna be all that hard for you, sweetface” Bucky grinned at you over his beer as he took another sip.

Your cheeks felt heated and you tried your best to hide it by taking another drink yourself. Bucky’s flirting has never worked until now. Must be the alcohol.

“Shut up, Barnes” you mumble.

“Y’keep saying that but what I really think you mean is ‘I love you, Bucky you’re so strong and handsome~’” He imitated in a high pitched feminine voice.

You shoved him for real and before you could say anything else the third round was starting.

____

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he had this. He had won the round in a clean sweep and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Who knew this man harbored so much videogame trivia? When the host handed you the prize money he just waggled his eyebrows as if to say See?

“I gotta hand it to you, Barnes, I had no idea you had that much videgame wisdom rolling around up there. The only videogame I ever play is Mariokart so I’d be toast without you.”

“Mariokart? That’s it?? No problem, doll. It was nice to contribute.” He chuckles at that.

You divvied the money up and handed him his half.

“Guess I’m not such a cheap date afterall, huh?”

He chuckled as he took his half from you.

“I’m gonna go pay the tab with our winnings, I’ll be back”

You picked up your phone while you waited for him to find some missed texts from Steve.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘Are you guys doing okay?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything so I’m assuming you haven’t killed each other. Have fun, text if you need a ride home.’

You almost rolled your eyes at Steve’s insistence but found yourself smiling instead. You’d text him back when you got home.

Bucky was walking up to you once more and you smiled at him slightly.

“You said you’re good at Mariokart?”

“I didn’t say I was good at Mariokart, I said that I played it. Why?”

“Well I was thinkin’ maybe we could go back to mine and I could whoop your butt”

You weren’t going to say yes but now he was goading you and you took the bait without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re on, Barnes. You’re so, so on.”

His smile grew wider when he heard your response. With that he placed his hand on your lower back and ushered you out of the bar.

____

You played two tournament cups worth of Mariokart and Bucky had indeed whooped your butt. You don’t know why you were surprised, with how much gaming he and Steve do it’s no surprise he’s a natural. You still had fun though. Just when you were about to propose a third round Bucky got up and headed to the kitchen without a word.

He came back with two glasses of water and handed you one. He sat down on the floor next to you and you set down your controller.

“Here, drink up.”

You were taken aback a bit by the kind gesture but accepted the glass just the same.

“Thank you, I might regret saying this but, you’re not so bad when you’re not being insufferable, Barnes”. You told him

He smiled and shook his head as he drank his water.

“Thanks, I guess”

“How come you can’t be like this all the time? When it’s just the two of us you’re so kind and you’re even… I don’t know, funny maybe. Why do you get all cocky whenever else I see you?”

He looked down into his glass at your comment and you watched his brows crease in thought.

“I don’t know, it just sort of… happens, whenever I’m around other people I don’t know that well. I don’t mean to be a dick or anything but it’s like I can’t help myself. People expect me to be a certain way and I can’t help but fall into it sometimes. Nat hated that about me, it’s part of the reason why she dumped me, actually”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry about the breakup, too. I know you guys were together for a while.” Bucky only shrugged at this and downed the rest of his water.

“It is what it is. I’m ready to be over it, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I gotta say, you’re not so bad either when you’re not getting all defensive and in my face. You’re actually pretty funny”

Your turn to become flustered at a personal analysis.

“Thanks, I guess I don’t mean to be so defensive either, it's just my response to most other people. I feel myself slip into it and it can’t be helped.” You explained.

Bucky nods at you, not knowing entirely what to say in response.

“I like spending time with you” He says leaning closer to you.

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of what you feel knowing his face is so close to yours.

“I… like spending time with you too. You’re not what I thought.”

“Me neither,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

With that he leans his head closer to yours and you feel yourself close your eyes and move your lips to slant perfectly into his. You’re kissing Bucky Barnes. The Bucky Barnes you can’t stand. That Bucky Barnes. You’ve decided that his tongue feels too good in your mouth to care now.

His hands come to frame your face and bring you in closer. His hands are warm and calloused but they feel like comfort. You can’t help but to melt. You moan into his mouth and it seems to spur him on. He pulls you into his lap and you let out a noise of surprise that’s muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your hands come to caress his sides and you take your time feeling every muscle and ridge. Your hands idly make their way under the hem of his shirt and his skin is just as smooth as you’d expect. He sighs into your mouth and it takes all of your strength not to fall apart right there. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and have to pull away for air. When you do you rest your forehead against his and the only sound is both of your breathing.

You finally brave a look at him and he has the softest smile on his lips.

“Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to get so carried away but I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.”

This catches you off guard.

“You have? Wait, did you like me? But you flirt with everyone!” You explain.

“With you, I flirt with you. You just can’t stand me” he laughs out, “Nat dumped me for a couple reasons but that’s one of them she told me I needed to get my priorities straight and I gotta say, I’m thankin’ her for sayin’ it ‘cause she was right.”

You don’t know what to say or what to make of any of this. All you know is that you want to kiss him again, so you do. You grab him by the collar and pull him into you again. He lets out a startled noise but kisses you back all the same.

You don’t care what you used to think of Bucky Barnes and you don’t care about what’ll happen after today. Right now all you care about is feeling him in sync with you for the first time. You could live in this moment forever but right now will have to do.

#quotemeonit6kchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #college AU #college!bucky x reader #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel one shot #bucky barnes imagine #enemies to lovers

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chubbology · 4 years ago

Text

The Munchies

prompt: a stoner feedee's girlfriend uses him to test out new edibles and deals with his munchies

Remmy returned home from visiting relatives on the last day of December, and he was very glad to be back. They’d fed him well and his pants were tight, but all the small talk and bad vibes had been as much of a drag as usual.

He opened the door to his apartment and breathed in a familiar, potent scent.

“Baby!” Brianna ran from the kitchen and tackled him.

“Happy almost New Year! Wanna hear my resolution? Baking and getting baked. Check it out.”

She brought him over to the counter, where she was almost done filling up three containers of what Remmy had no doubt were various edibles. He ignored the kitchen mess.

“I’m liking what I see,” Remmy laughed.

She preened and then pinched his love handle. “I bet you do."

"These aren’t your typical brownies, though," she said. "This is gourmet.” She kissed her fingertips in a muah.

The first container was full of moist shortbread, the second with a kind of apple crumble dish that looked divine. Last but not least, the third had a jumble of what like peanut butter cups.

“Try something!” Brianna gushed. She seemed to be a little floaty already. “You’re gonna be my new taste tester. I think I could really be good at this. Make some cash, too.”

So Remmy tried one of the peanut butter cups. His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Bri, these are incredible.” He ate another.

“Take it easy. Two should get you stoned. So says the recipe anyway.” Brianna rubbed his pudgy forearm as he eyed the rest in the container, biting the inside of his lip. “Hey. If you’re just hungry, I can fix that. You wanna eat?”

“I’m starving,” Remmy said. A lie, since he’d had a big lunch before driving back. But he could eat.

“Okay, I’ll get you something! Pay day was Monday. Let’s splurge. What do you want?”

McDonalds, Remmy’s mind supplied easily, in an almost salacious tone. His relatives thought they were too good for McDonalds, and now his body thrummed with the desire to just get a truckload of those greasy combos and revel in the guilt and satisfaction of eating every last unhealthy bite.

Then again. Brianna probably wasn’t okay to drive right now, he didn’t feel like getting back in the car, and the scale told him he’d hit 240 recently, “Let’s just order in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

That night, as they ignored the idiots on television bringing in the New Year, the two of them picked at the apple crumble - which tasted as brilliant as Remmy had suspected - and lounged around, enjoying their high. Brianna barely touched her Chinese takeout, and Remmy ate all of his. Then hers. Then he started grazing the kitchen for more food.

Over the course of the next week, the two of them finished off the rest of what she made, plus some more recipes that turned out delicious. Brianna got a pleasant high every time, and Remmy enjoyed the edibles, too, although his experience was slightly different. It was just—

He just—

He got hungry. Munchies but on unholy overdrive. Cranked to eleven and a half. With every high, Remmy became a little more overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food he felt compelled to pack away, savory and sweet. Takeout and fast food and quarts of ice cream. Nuts and fruits, too. Jar of peanut butter here. Tub of icing there. He’d never been very active, so it came as no surprise when his clothes began stretching over his chest and belly and thighs and ass. He popped a button getting dressed one morning and couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. He hadn’t realized it would happen so quickly, his body converting all the calories into flab. Flab that padded him out chubbier than he already was, and then more on top of that. In the mirror, he started to look big.

Brianna seemed unfazed by her boyfriend’s growing girth. She took to her baking resolution with as much gusto as she did anything that interested her, and even into March, April, and May, she was selling the edibles well and raked in money that almost made her day job obsolete. Remmy was constantly praised for being “the bestest taste tester ever” and enjoyed a steady stream of free highs to balance out the lows of spending most of his time working his IT job from home.

Working, gaming, watching old movies. Remmy already stayed sitting most of the day, but as he gained weight, gained a lot, filling out his desk chair to its limits, crumbs becoming his constant companion, he felt even less like standing up. His weight climbed to 280, 290, 300.

June, July, and August passed uneventfully, and pretty happily, too. Brianna stopped asking him what food he wanted from the grocery store and just bought him things. Bought him things she knew he’d eat when he got high, things that made his ass spread wider on the couch, his arms round out like sausages, his pudgy chest start to really droop. The scale said 320, 330, 340.

Remmy gave up trying to gain control of the new appetite Brianna’s heavenly edibles seemed to install in him irrevocably. When he craved, he ate, and he ate. And like a dam breaking, his body surged with so much excess fat he began spilling out of even his newest clothes.

He was a little ashamed, sure. But quite a few of his relatives were fat, so they couldn't talk, and it felt like sweet revenge to embarrass his irritating parents by becoming so overweight. As for everyday life, well, he just moved around from room to room slower, wore the same stretchy clothes a lot, and that was it. Remmy did mention his weight in passing sometimes to gauge Brianna’s feelings about it, but Brianna only ever giggled, called him cute, and passed him her venti sugary monstrosity of a coffee concoction, which he thoughtlessly sucked down to the dregs, ingesting a thousand-plus calories just like that. This made her eyes sparkle, huge and utterly endeared.

“Like a piggy,” she said, thumbing his fat cheek. “Always willing to eat.”

In bed, she made it clear she liked him the way he was, and was becoming. And it wasn’t long before Remmy realized he was into how big he was becoming, too.

They continued like this. Getting high together and watching movies and making out and snacking. Well, Brianna snacked. Remmy feasted. Gorged himself, to put it precisely, with Brianna’s enthusiastic help. “You look good soft,” she’d tell him, playing with belly fat that his stretchiest t-shirts couldn’t cover anymore.

Remmy would swallow another bite of a snickers and spread his huge thighs a little, with effort. “You call it soft, but I’m the one who gets tired moving from the office to the kitchen.” I’m so heavy, he wanted to say. God, I’m so heavy.

“Just move your computer to the kitchen then,” she said. “Duh.”

It was a seed planted that came to fruition a month later - when Remmy’s food cravings became unmanageable and his weight climbed past 360 - that he felt he would simply be more productive during his day job if his breaks to get food from the kitchen were shorter.

By November, whether he was high or not, Remmy was grazing all day, everyday. What Brianna got from the store became insufficient, and he started a habit of ordering take out most days. In big portions. His scale creaked at 375. When Brianna wasn’t home, he sometimes ate takeout on the scale to see if the number would rise.

On Remmy’s birthday in early December, Brianna made a fresh batch of his favorites again: the peanut butter cup edibles. After ordering pizza for delivery, she got in the shower, and Remmy scarfed down three of the big cups as soon as they cooled. Then he waited, leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, belly hanging, feet hurting. He didn’t want to go to the effort of sitting on the couch and getting back up again when he could just stay in the kitchen, where he knew he’d end up anyway.

He scratched his supple underbelly. Found a pack of Twizzlers and started eating those.

Soon enough, his breathing slowed as he felt the high slowly come over him. And, as expected, his whole body immediately began to tingle for satiation. Fattening food sung to him from the pantry and fridge and freezer all at once, and it was all going to make him so huge and heavy he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own wide feet, but he wanted it anyway.

He didn’t care if he was pushing 390 now. He’d blown up, yeah. Inflated from a thick guy to obese and waddling. At this point, he was so pumped so big with blubber that he couldn’t twitch without jiggling, but so what? He was hungry. Being high made him want to consume, and so he did. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

Remmy opened the fridge and took out his birthday cake, which Brianna must have stuck in there after getting home from work. He couldn’t wait to eat it properly. There was no way he could wait until after the pizza came. Besides, it was his birthday. Remmy took off the plastic lid of the round, triple chocolate cake and felt his nerves light up with anticipation. He was going to eat it all, and there was no stopping him.

He found a knife and cut himself a slice three times the size any reasonable person would take. Desperate to get the goodness into his mouth without delay, he skipped a fork and bit right into the gooey, dense cake and mouse and fudge. God, Brianna was so perfect for getting him the unhealthiest cake imaginable. She knew he didn’t care if he was ten pounds heavier tomorrow, if his fat ass ripped his sweatpants open, if he ate so much he couldn’t haul himself to bed—she knew he needed this.

He ate slice after slice, and it was mostly gone when Brianna got out of the shower, looking sexier than usual in her matching purple lingerie. She’d gotten chubbier with so much junk food in the apartment, and fat clung to her in all the right places. But her pudge was a far cry from his angry-red stretch marks and neck rolls. Hell, his moobs had grown bigger than her tits.

She found him in the kitchen, eating and holding his drooping belly, and she rubbed his back, cooing at him when he apologized.

“It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait all night. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Remmy said, but all he could think about was getting his next bite. As she watched him, he tried to hold out. Tried to prove he could stop eating for two seconds. Three seconds, four - his resolve broke and he crammed the rest of a slice into his mouth and chewed, choking back a moan.

“You get the munchies so bad, don’t you?” Brianna grinned and leaned against his belly, patting and cupping his weighty breasts in the way she knew pleased him. “Let’s get you sat down. I’ll bring you what you need. Just sit and relax and watch whatever you want.” They moved to the couch and Remmy sat, the cushions wheezing, his thighs and belly quivering. Brianna tucked the remainder of the cake into his pudgy hands. “Don’t worry about a mess. It’s your birthday. And there’s more where that came from.” She winked. “I just needed to keep this cake refrigerated because it’s fancy. There’s a whole sheet cake on top of the fridge that’s cheap and huge. Covered in icing. Perfect for munchies.”

Remmy could only feel a wave of relief at this news. There would be more cake. And after that, there’d still be more junk in the cabinets. There was pizza coming. His high was just right. Brianna turned on the television to his favorite show and he settled further back into the cushions, feeling his second chin swell out and engulf his first. Everything was just right. He was lucky to have Brianna and food. So much food.

A year later, around the same time, Remmy skipped his usual trip to see his relatives for the holidays. At 520 pounds, it was simply too much effort to move.

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #female feeder #male gainer #named

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joonie-beanie · 4 years ago

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The Demon Brothers + College AU + (Cliche?) First Meetings

So an anon sent me the above ask, and it may have gotten a little out of hand ;;;

I also kind of switched it up and made it college instead. Hopefully the meetings I came up with are still somewhat cliche! Or, at the very least, cute lol

Lucifer:

You’re running late for class on the first day of the semester and he holds the elevator door open for you when he sees the desperate look on your face, and how you’re making a dash for the closing doors.

“Thank you,” you breathe out as you try to get ahold of yourself, hoping that the tall, handsome male beside you doesn’t see or hear the way you’re struggling for air. (It’s 8am, okay? Your body isn’t ready to be running so early.)

“Which floor do you need?” he asks, smiling politely. You respond “four”, and he hums to himself while hitting the button.

When he doesn’t press a different button, you assume he’s heading to the same floor.

“Thanks, by the way,” you say, flashing him a small smile. “You really saved my ass.”

“No thanks needed,” he responds, gaze shifting to look at the small screen above the door. The second floor moves past with a quiet beep. Silence falls for a couple of seconds.

“May I ask what class you’re heading to?”

“Ah, it’s a psychology lab,” you respond, laughing to yourself after a beat. You pull your phone from your pocket, trying to find the screenshot you’d taken of your schedule. “I signed up for this one because Rate My Professor said the TA is hot.”

“Oh? Is that so?” You’re not paying attention, so you don’t see the smirk that tugs at his lips.

The next moment, the elevator stops and the two of you step out together. You exit first, flashing the male one last smile before you turn your attention to your phone, double checking the room number. Lucifer brushes past you without saying a word, and you don’t realize that you’re headed in the same direction until you glance up, and find him holding the classroom door open for you.

“After you,” he says, and while you’re confused, you dip your head in thanks and make your way in. Since you’re one of the last ones in the classroom, you get stuck sitting in the front row.

As you unpack your things, Lucifer steps to the head of the room and sets his computer bag down onto the desk.

“Good morning, class,” he says, his gaze shifting to you when you look up and see that it’s him who is speaking--a vibrant blush rising to your face as you recall what you’d told him in the elevator.

“My name is Lucifer, and I will be the TA for this lab.”

Mammon:

You’re in the large, open eating area at the campus student union when he bumps into you.

Instantly, the greasy, cheesy pizza on your tray jumps up and lands on the front of your shirt. You freeze in shock, wide eyes glancing down as the personal pizza slides down your chest before flopping back onto the tray.

“Oi, watch where you’re going,” a voice says behind you, and you slowly turn around to face the apparently dumbass man who doesn’t even have the sensibility to apologize to you.

Despite that fact that he sounds pompous, you can’t deny that his styled white hair, and pierced ears are kind of charming.

“You backed into me,” you tell him, attempting to keep your calm. You almost lose it when you see his eyes rake down to your chest, staring at the likely un-washable stain on the fabric. He stares much too long, and you’re just about to curse at him when he speaks up again.

“Uhhh...,” he raises a hand to sheepishly rub at his neck, and when you look closely, you see that a blush has spread across his face. “Y-ya know what, maybe it is my fault...can I, um, buy ya another pizza?”

You blink, surprised at the sudden turn around in his attitude.

“That would be nice,” you say honestly, and suddenly he’s smiling, hopping back into the pizza line, which is right beside where the two of you had collided.

“I-If ya want, I’ll lend you my jacket because of, ya know, your shirt,” he says, motioning to your obviously ruined top. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“You’d give a stranger your jacket?”

“Well...I’m kind of hoping that you’ll have lunch with me, and we won’t be strangers for long,” he mumbles, gaze shying away. “Or, ya know, that I can get your number at least.”

“You’re really pushing it,” you tell him with a laugh, and you can see his feathers ruffle. He’s obviously embarrassed at you calling out his flirting. “But...maybe we can eat lunch together. Since you’re paying.”

He blinks, shocked at your words, but soon breaks into a smile. Self-satisfied, he continues grinning stupidly even as the cashier calls him up. However, when he pulls out his wallet, swipes his card, and it comes back denied...

“Uhh...can you pay this time? I PROMISE I’ll pay you back.”

You sigh, and debate throttling him.

Levi:

You sit next to him in a lecture hall, and can’t help but notice that the background on his laptop is Sailor Moon.

When you reach down to dig a notebook out of your bag, you also see the number of anime and video game pins decorating the front of his backpack.

While you don’t tend to talk to strangers, you can’t help but say something.

“Hey, um,” you start, catching his attention. He freezes, amber eyes shifting to look at you--wide with surprise. You smile, doing your best to come off as casual, and friendly. “I noticed all the pins on your backpack. Do you like anime? I started watching Demon Slayer the other week, and I’m in love with it.”

“I...you...,” his surprise shifts to wonder as he regards you. The slightest blush rises on his cheeks. “You watch anime???”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Is that so weird?”

“N-no, I guess not,” he mumbles, his hands fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie. You wonder if you’ve made a mistake by talking to him, since he seems so shy--

“Do you play video games too??” he breaks you out of your thoughts as he scoots forward, eyes sparkling. He’s whispering hurriedly, eyes briefly straying to glance at the time on his laptop. “I recently started playing Doki Doki Literature club, and it’s crazy. I love RPG games, and Indie games too--like IB, and Mad Father. Witches House is also good. Of course, I’ll give pretty much any video game a chance, but--”

At that moment, the professor steps up and addresses the class. Levi’s words cut off, and his blush deepens as he suddenly realizes that he’d gone on a mini fanboy rant. However, you just smile at him, hoping that you come off reassuring, and turn to your notebook.

During the lecture, you’re too busy taking notes to notice the way he sneaks glances your way. And when the class finally ends, and you move to repack your belongings, you look up to find him staring at you.

“Is something on your mind?” you ask him.

“I...um...I-I was wondering if I could get your contact info. You know...f-for class stuff, and maybe, if..if you wanted to, we could also talk more about anime…?”

“Sure!” you say, and he blinks, apparently shocked by your willingness. The two of you proceed to exchange emails and phone numbers, and by the time you arrive at your next class 15 minutes later, 6 new text messages (about anime, video games, and the like) from Levi are lighting up your phone screen.

Satan:

He’s volunteering at the library when you approach him, desperate for help finding a textbook you need to scan for a class. You’ve looked everywhere, but still can’t find it.

“You do realize that this code is indicating that this textbook is online, right? Not physically in the library?” he asks you, a bit of amusement swimming in his eyes when he hands your phone back to you--the screen open to an email your professor had sent a few days before.

You feel heat rise on your cheeks. “Ah, nope. Did not realize...”

“It happens often, actually. I’m sorry for teasing, I shouldn’t have” he says, smiling at you. “If you want, you can come around the desk, and I’ll show you how to access the textbook online. That way, you won’t be confused next time.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, scooting your way around the desk. Satan pulls up a spare chair beside him, and your knee accidentally knocks against his as you take a seat.

“Here, you just have to search for it in the library portal,” he says, and you attentively watch as he guides you through the online website. However, when he starts going off into a spiel on all of the other cool resources and books available to students online, your attention strays.

You notice the copy of Jane Eyre open on the desk beside the computer.

“Are you reading a book that’s assigned in high school AP Lit?”

He blinks in confusion, but immediately goes on the defense when he notices where you’re looking.

“Hey, Jane Eyre is a classic. And the help desk is far too slow some days. I need something to keep me busy.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s fair,” you respond, smiling. You move to grab your bag--pressing to your feet. “I can’t blame you either, considering I actually enjoyed reading it once upon a time. The Great Gatsby was probably my next favorite.”

“Personally, out of all the high school literature, I enjoyed Fahrenheit 451,” he responds, grinning when he sees the disgruntled look on your face at hearing the name of the book.

“Really?? I still have no idea what it was about.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You turn to look at him, and find him regarding you with interest.

Satan smiles.

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

Asmo:

Asmo is working a booth about safe sex in the student union when you approach, hoping to get free condoms (or maybe even donate to support the organization, considering it’s a good cause).

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” he says, smiling at you as you survey the goodies and pamphlets laid out on the table. He comes off as a little flirty, but mostly friendly, and well intentioned. “Are you here to buy one of our prettily shaped chocolates?”

He motions to the cup full of vagina-shaped chocolates on a stick. Your eyebrows raise. Huh.

“Well, that’s not why I stopped, but I may need to buy one now,” you laugh, making him smile. Asmo leans forward onto his elbows, his eyes twinkling up at you.

“Are you here for the condoms then? If so, feel free to take a handful. We have a ton prepared. People on this campus fuck like bunnies, honestly.”

You laugh. “Oh? Well, good on you guys for protecting all of the precious, needy students.”

He nods sagely, moving to gather you a few of the wrapped condoms, along with some educational reading material. “Can’t have a bunch of students getting diseases, or pregnant. Sex should be fun and safe. Always! And if it’s not both, then find someone else to fuck.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, smiling as he hands you your free goodies. Your eyes stray back to the vagina chocolates. “How much for one of those?”

“5 dollars,” he says, reaching over to grab one. “Pricey, I know, but the money goes to a good cause.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you laugh, pulling a 5 from your wallet. The two of you exchange items, and you pocket the chocolate. You flash him one last smile, intending to walk away, but he pipes up before you get too far.

“By the way, we’re having a class on BDSM safety tonight~” You pause at his words, turning to face him, and he grins at the look of interest plain on your face. “In case you’re interested.”

“Are you...implying something?” you ask, posing a hand on your hip as you turn to face him. He cocks his head to the side innocently.

“I would never~ But you’ve left a good impression in the two minutes we’ve known each other, and I’m the one teaching the class, so~ I’d be thrilled to see you there.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised, but amused as well. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, you turn on your heel and head to class. But you definitely end up attending the class that night.

Beel:

You meet during a 1-credit, weekend Yoga class. He puts his mat down next to yours, and you can’t help but stare at his biceps, and triceps, and...wow he’s really built.

Aside from that, though, he looks pretty concerned.

“Have you never done yoga before?” you ask him, smiling politely. Having caught his attention, he turns to look at you--the same adorable frown pulling at his lips.

“No...I like to work out, but I’ve never done yoga...I’m not very flexible.” You watch him as he demonstrations by sticking his legs out and trying to touch his toes. His fingertips only reach halfway down his calves.

“It’s okay!” you tell him. “I’m pretty new to yoga too! And this is just an intro course, so I wouldn’t worry. Most of the grade comes from knowing technical terms, and I’ve heard this instructor is really nice.”

At that, he finally smiles--relieved to hear you say so.

“I’m Beel, by the way,” he says.

“Y/N,” you respond, but before the two of you get the chance to talk more, the instructor arrives. You then spend the next few hours smiling to yourself as you watch Beel struggle to get into poses. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re getting humor out of his situation.

“Did you not eat today?” you ask him when lunch finally rolls around, flopping back against your mat. He shakes his head, rummaging around in his bag. You can hear his stomach growling.

“I had an extra large breakfast since I knew I would be burning calories, but I’m starving now…” He pulls an entire sub from his bag, and when you catch a peek at the inside, you realize that the entire backpack is stuffed with only food. Holy shit.

But...you suppose he does need to eat a lot, if he works out a lot.

“I’m gonna grab a soda, and I’ll be back,” you say quietly, assuming that you’ll be eating lunch together, since he’s already turning to face your mat.

“Okay,” he says with a smile, and you smile back at him, excited to get to know him more. However, before you can even get a step away, you’re tripping over your backpack

The world spins, and you hold your arms in front of you--expecting to eat shit--but you don’t meet the floor. Two arms curl beneath you and your body rolls--your ass landing between folded legs.

You blink in surprise, blushing when you glance up and find that it’s none other than Beel who is holding you. Concern is written on his face. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that you’re currently occupying his lap.

“Are you okay?” he asks, not moving to release you, and oh boy you think your heart may beat straight out of your chest.

Belphie:

You meet him in the library computer lab at 11:48pm, on the last day of finals.

You trudge into the computer lab, bordering on going blind. You’ve spent the last 6 hours writing out your term paper, and had felt pretty fucking proud when you’d finished with a whole 30 minutes to spare, but just as you’d gone to submit the paper online, your apartment wi-fi had cut out

Of course.

So, you pop a squat at one of the many computers--not even realizing that someone else is in the lab until you hear a quiet snore.

Immediately, you’re pausing, standing to glance around the room. A few computers down, sitting parallel to you, is a dark haired male, with his head down on the keyboard.

Honestly, you debate not waking him. He probably needs the rest, but as a fellow student, and considering it’s the last day of finals? You can’t just leave him be in good conscience.

“Hey, uh, dude?” you call out, glancing at him from over the row of computers. He doesn’t stir. “Heyyyy~ It’s almost midnight,” you say a bit louder. “I don’t know if you’re writing something, but you better submit it.”

Finally, he stirs.

“Aw, fuck,” you hear him grumble, and he lifts his head up--his tired gaze turning to look at you. He sighs. “Thanks. You probably just saved my ass.”

“No worries,” you respond, laughing a little. You sit back down in your seat, and put in your credentials....only for the computer to indicate that you’ve put in the wrong password.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, deadpanning, and try another password. Then another, and another. None of them work, and you don’t have enough time left to change it.

“I’m gonna fucking jump off the roof,” you deadpan, holding your face in your hands. Belphie chuckles.

“Something wrong?”

“I guess I don’t know my computer password, so I can’t log in and submit my paper.” You say, glancing up. This time, it’s Belphie who is glancing over the row of monitors at you, eyebrow raised.

“You can come use mine. I just submitted my paper. Just log into the school site with your ID.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you sigh, and Belphie scoots his chair over as you walk around the aisle to meet him. Again, he laughs.

“Eye for an eye.”

“That’s...you use that phrase with enemies,” you tell him, unable to help the smile that spreads across your face. He blinks, and then groans.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m still asleep. Just...forget I said that.”

“Actually, I think I’ll remember it forever,” you respond, and he grins, his eyes shifting to look at the keyboard as you type out your password.

“Okay, OppaiLover69 exclamation point.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, and when you see the shit-eating look at his face, you debate throwing hands. He’s lucky he’s cute.

#om!#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #lucifer #mammon #levi #leviathan #satan #asmo #asmodeus #beel #beelzebub #belphie #belphegor #I was gonna do the undateables in the same post #but my brain is dead atm #so

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procrastinatingnerd · 3 years ago

Text

Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I��d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

#osemanverse #i was born for this #iwbft #bicci #angel rahimi #jimmy kaga ricci #lister bird #juliet schwartz #bliss lai

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 3 years ago

Note

How about some Venom vore prompts?Preferably the anti-hero Venom from the recent movie. I can just imagine Eddie having to scold Venom for eating yet ANOTHER delivery boy, or something pec vore related sounds neat!

I really gotta get around to watching superhero movies. Venom is definitely high on that list, but I think I can cobble together enough to write this.

In reality, one could say it was E.ddie's fault that this happened. He knew that V.enom was hungry and needed something to eat, but he'd been too damn tired from a long night of work to actually make anything. Ordering pizza had seemed like a great idea. But E.ddie had underestimated just how tired he was, and as soon as he'd laid down on his couch to wait for that thirty minute deliver, he was out like a light. He hadn't even woke up when the doorbell rang, or when the door opened, or when the delivery guy was screaming and the wet sounds of slurping and gulping filled the room. When he finally did wake up was when V.enom belched right in his ear and he saw that his usually pudgy stomach was now a bloated, squirming mess. He sighs, too tired still to bother scolding the symbiote. At this rate, the pizza place is going to stop sending people to his apartment. He glances over at the table where V.enom had sat the pizza box. "...well, can't let it go to waste..." Hopefully the delivery guy doesn't mind the greasy pizza rain he was about to get. E.ddie suspects it'd be the least of his concerns anyway.

It was a bit harder to control V.enom when he was the one piloting the body. being a nagging voice in the back of his head will only get things so far. They'd just taken down some punks--nothing too dangerous. One had a knife and another had an unloaded gun, but they were taken down fairly quickly. Much better than some other things they've had to deal with before. But E.ddie recognized the growling noise V.enom made as he grabbed one of the punks off the ground. "V.enom, don't," E.ddie warns, hoping his tone would be enough. "We...are hungry, E.ddie," V.enom snarls back. "You are not swallowing some jerks who were just trying to act tough!" E.ddie replies with a raised voice. V.enom seems to contemplate that for a moment before a wide grin splits along his face. "Alright." E.ddie never liked that grin. It always meant V.enom was being a smartass. A sure enough, the kid in the monster's hand was shoved face first against smooth, black pecs and sank between them almost effortlessly. E.ddie could only sigh internally as V.enom packed the punk away with a few tight flexes, then repeated the process on the other two. As the last pair of feet slipped under the surface, the symbiote's chest was bulging heavily with three men packed away inside. "Much better," V.enom hisses happily. And he didn't even have to swallow.

V.enom let loose a thick belch, lazily thumping his chest a few times. Gang fights might be annoying to most, but for V.enom, it was just a buffet begging to be snacked on. And he was more than happy to stuff himself silly on them. Plenty went down the tank, filling out his round gut to an immense size. He'd also sent plenty flexing between his pecs, bulging out his meaty chest nicely as it worked on grinding them down. He even got a bit playful and stuffed a few up either armpit, letting them stew in his musk as they bulge out his biceps. All-in-all, he'd had a damn good day of fighting and eating. E.ddie had complained the whole time, though, and it was getting annoying, so V.enom was going to get a bit of...playful revenge. Relaxing in an alleyway, he suddenly reliquished control back to E.ddie again, leaving the human sitting on the ground with his body stuffed full of wriggling prey. E.ddie couldn't even get a word of complaint out with how much he was belching and groaning now. But V.enom wasn't that cruel, of course, as two black tendrils begin to lovingly rub the sides of the human's gut. He always loved giving a stuffed E.ddie some attention.

#v.ore #male vore #gay vore #mlm vore #m/m vore #vore prompts #male voer prompts #oral vore #pec vore #pit vore #digestion #fatal vore #venomvore #eddiebrockvore #ask

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preciousthingsareprecious · 4 years ago

Text

In Line at the Prize Counter

So this fic was originally intended to be part of Dick and Damian week, but life intervened and I didn’t end up finishing it anywhere near on time. That said, I found it too much fun to write and didn’t want it to live forever in WIP form. So, I hope you all enjoy this adventure featuring one Very Done Damian as he’s forced to rescue Dick from a Bomp n’ Stomp.

Characters: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne

Words: 4,965

Summary: When Dick Grayson is kidnapped, Robin is the only one who really believes he's being held at the Bomp n' Stomp entertainment center. So he rolls up his sleeves, and heads into the dreaded building to rescue his brother from the likes of ball pits, twisted slides, and yes even go karts.

AO3 Link

Of all the places in the world Damian Wayne expected to walk into, a Bomp n’ Stomp was not one of them. In fact, he had argued viciously against ever entering the indoor playscape when his brother had suggested they spend a Saturday there.

To make matters worse, in an attempt to convince Damian of it’s legitimacy, Richard had called it an arcade.

An arcade .

The nerve of the man to sully that term by applying it to this ball pit filled, gum ridden, dirty carpeted, sticky establishment. A true arcade, like Shelly’s JoyCon, home of Cheese Viking, would never allow it’s door handles to leave a strangely greasy film on Damian’s gloves as he moved his search from a back room back out into the main area.

The inside smelled of old pizza, spilled soda, and that strange almost chalky scent of fog machines. It was, in a word, disgusting. Damian felt a pull at the bottom of his boot every few steps, like the carpet was coated in something sticky. He wrinkled his nose.

No, this was nothing like his favorite arcade.

Granted. It was also closed for renovations, with the promise of things like all new games, flooring, and yes even door handles. Still, Damian thought nothing could quite erase the smell of greasy pizza. That was a scent that stuck.

He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about greasy pizza and continue working on why he was truly here. Some odious criminal had thought it a good idea to kidnap Richard on his way into Gotham.

It would not be stood for. Not someone snatching his brother. Nor holding him up in a place as terrible as this. To top things off, whoever had taken Richard had deprived both he and Damian of a perfectly excellent evening that should have been spent at the Observatory.

Damian sniffed and picked his way past skee ball games, an overly large wheel with inane words like “Double Prize Winner!!” in bold peeling letters on it, and the playscapes namesake, a Bomp n’ Stomp game.

At the Bomp n’ Stomp, he stopped to peer down at the curious game. It was obviously broken. The machine was little more than a garishly painted box with various holes covering the top. Out of one peeked a chipped plastic facsimile of a mole. Hanging off the machine were two objects strung on cords that looked ready to snap at any moment. The first was a toy hammer, it’s fabric ripped and leaking stuffing, the other a boot attached to a stick.

“Tt.” Damian discounted it and looked back up.

Whoever thought a game designed around attacking moles was a good idea surly must be a criminal.

He’d neared the end of the ‘arcade’ portion of the building and was entering a larger more open space. The carpet changed from soiled red to blue spotted tile. At the change, the ceiling rose at least a second story above him, towering high enough to fit a series of large structures.

To one side of this new area rested a climbing wall. It, out of everything Damian had seen so far, actually looked interesting. Even from here he could see portions that might make for a mild challenge in climbing.

Next there was a multistory play set filled with slides, jungle gyms, large netted areas he supposed children were expected to crawl through, and so many tunnels it would put most professional guinea pig enclosures to shame. A sign outside the entrance indicated that somewhere towards the center of the structure rested a huge ball pit.

Damian really, truly, hoped Richard had not been placed within that. If the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp was sticky and dirty, the ball pit must be truly foul. He could not even imagine what had happened within it or what--he grimaced-- fluids could have coated the orbs.

He turned to the last attraction, a small go kart area. Perhaps the climbing wall was not the only redeeming quality to the establishment. Provided of course that the carts actually moved quickly.

So far, he had seen no hint of Richard. His brother had not been hidden behind a garishly colored game, and he did not seem to be dangling from the climbing wall. After a brief examination (and admiration of the engines on the small cars) Damian determined that his brother was either being held in one of the staff areas indicated by the back wall or-- He glanced at the huge play place.

After a moment’s hesitation, Damian squared his shoulders. As detestable as it would be to crawl around in there, he would do it if it meant rescuing Richard from being trapped inside. He could not imagine being held within the structure longer than a few minutes. It would be torture indeed.

The truly strange thing about his investigation so far had been that no one had attempted to stop him. There were no guards at the front, nor the back, and the building was empty of signs of life. The power was on, with some games sluggishly lit or playing bites of music, but Damian had not seen anyone besides himself.

He considered this as he made his way to the entrance to the play structure. He knew for a fact that Richard was here, even if Father did not.

Damian pushed the plastic draping away from the domed entrance and stepped inside the structure. He was surrounded by net, his feet no longer on solid ground, but pressed into some kind of foam. Ahead of him was a rope ladder that looked designed to be as unstable as possible. He sighed and began to climb.

Of the three possible locations Richard could have been taken to the Bomp n’ Stomp had been deemed least likely by his Father due to the fact that it was not altogether abandoned. While, over the weekend no one would be inside, the possibility of a worker coming in was high enough Father had assumed any capable kidnapper would discount it.

The other two locations, an empty ice cream parlor, and an abandoned junk yard, had been deemed higher priorities and dangers. But something had told Damian that the Bomp n’ Stomp was the right location, and he had argued that it should be checked out.

So while his family was split between the other two locations, Father had reluctantly allowed Damian to check out his hunch, promising to meet up with him after they'd cleared their own locations.

The ladder exited onto a platform made entirely of the netting Damian had seen from outside the playhouse structure. Tentative, he pressed a hand into the thick black cording, and when it gave less than he’d assumed it would, he climbed atop it.

Balance was a tricky thing on the strange floor, and Damian could not help but think the League would benefit from installing something of the kind in one of their training rooms. It turned a normal floor into something to be treaded on with care or risk getting a toe caught between the net. If he was unlucky he might end up tumbling to the ground or twisting his ankle. Damian couldn’t imagine it filled with children.

He was keeping his ears open for any sounds of either Richard or the kidnappers. From the letter and accompanying picture Father had received there were at least three men holding Richard, but there were sure to be more.

Father had immediately identified the men as being part of a relatively new gang in Gotham. Their motive was both money and an attempt at scaring Bruce Wayne into cooperating with them in the future.

Damian scoffed at their foolishness as he hopped off one platform and onto another. His eyes went wide as, instead of the net he’d grown used to, the floor rolled under his feet.

He bit back a yelp as his feet slipped forward, and he went tumbling, hands pinwheeling out beside him in an attempt to catch his balance. He stumbled back, then forward, then one leg was in the air, followed by the other and Damian was staring up at the faded yellow ceiling of the play place.

For a moment, he lay there blinking up at it. Wondering about the strange flatness, and remembering this thing had another level above him. If someone was above him, would he see imprints of feet? Sections weighed down by a kid stepping over it?

It did not matter. What did, was finding Richard and escaping this cursed place.

Damian felt the floor under him, and realized it was not a single solid piece, but four cylinders that each rolled on their own. Whoever had designed this place was a madman. Putting a trap like this in a place where anyone could fall could only spell injury on a normal day.

He grunted, and carefully pushed himself up, moving off the shifting section and onto firm foam again. Well, not quite firm. It sagged with every step Damian took, but it was far better than the rolling part or the net.

The next hurdle came when Damian reached the tunnels. He had seen them of course, out looking up at all this. Plastic, colored brightly, sometimes one segment a different color altogether than the last, little windows dotting the sides. But he had hoped he’d find Richard before having to crawl through one.

He crouched and stepped inside. After a few moments he realized he was going to have to actually crawl. He wrinkled his nose as he pressed palm to plastic and began moving. At one point his palm stuck and after a moment, he pulled it up to reveal gum pressed into the green of his glove. Richard had better be thankful for what Damian was putting himself through to rescue him.

The space was tight, and as a defensible position it was terrible. If a fight took place within the tubes it would not be good. Even Damian, as small as he was, would have a hard time maneuvering within them. He’d have a better chance of winning a fight in some of the Batcave’s tighter spaces.

They were also impossible to be silent in. Every inch forward created squeaking or creaking or the echoing sound of a knee hitting against plastic with a series of thumps that were anything but rhythmic. Any chance of silently finding his brother was dashed a minute after he entered them.

Once Damian realized that, he no longer bothered trying to move slowly through. Instead he hurried, around turns, down dips, and up tiny plastic hills. He was thankful for the extra padding over his knees and the leather of his gloves. If not for them he was certain his palms would be red and irritated and his knees bruised.

Damian was in such a hurry to get through the tunnels that he missed the slide. One moment his hand was pressed into plastic, the next it fell into nothing. His momentum was such that he’d assumed it was another dip, a temporary fall.

But no.

His next hand hit nothing, with the other was still in air, and then Damian found himself staring down the tube of a slide, and hurtling down it face first. It twisted, and turned, and at one point his chin caught on a portion of the plastic that was raised. Damian winced, feeling the plastic scratch his skin, sure he’d be wiping blood away if he ever exited this terrible contraption.

At last, he burst out. He got one good look at a space enclosed by netting and more slide exits before he saw what was below him. To his growing horror, the ball pit waited. Staring at the pit in bullet time Damian decided this whole place was ridiculous. A death trap made for children . Even Nygma could not come up with something so fiendish.

Nothing Damian could do would stop his crash. Balls of yellow, red, blue, and green exploded around him, bursting up and into the air even as his trajectory took him down, deep into the pit. He was drowning, and yet not.

After a moment he realized he’d stopped moving. The balls around him had coalesced into a kind of solid form that still allowed him to move. It took some work, but eventually Damian righted himself and managed to semi-swim upward, kicking off against the ground before shooting back up. And at last, his head popped out into clear air.

“Robin!?” The surprised voice came from his left.

Damian shifted, careful not to sink again, “Richard!” he cried, then corrected himself, he was in uniform and Richard was a civilian. Even here, the kidnappers might be watching.

“Mr. Grayson, I am here to rescue you.”

Richard actually snorted, an aborted version of what would have been a startled laugh. He was half buried in the ball pit himself. His torso and head above the sea of color. Rope was tied around what Damian could see of his chest, presumably holding his arms back, but otherwise he looked fine.

It was a miracle Damian hadn’t plowed right into his brother during his wild exit from the slide. He’d landed a foot or so away from him, close to the middle of the pit. The problem was, figuring out how to get both himself and Richard out.

Damian glanced around the enclosed space holding the pit. He counted four slides at various sides of the netting, and two rope ladders leading up. One to another tunnel, and the other to what looked like a real ledge.

“So, Mr. Robin , what’s the plan?” Richard asked, his tone far too delighted with their situation.

A scowl crossed Damian’s face, “Do not patronize me. It is your fault we are in this mess at all. Do you know how unsanitary this all is? From the pit to those cursed tunnels. Even the door was sticky.”

Richard gave him a patient smile, “But it’s not all bad right?”

“Tt. It has been horrendous. I do not know how you have survived.” Damian said, and began wading over to his brother’s side.

It was difficult to push through the pit, but he found that thankfully, the closer he got to an edge, the higher the ground under him was. It went from almost nonexistent, to high enough he could stand on his toes beside Richard. It was not ideal, but at least he was no longer at risk of being swallowed whole.

“There has to be at least one redeeming quality about this place.” Richard continued, “Even Robin must have liked something the old Bomp n’ Stomp has to offer. Maybe one of the games?”

“Nothing.” Damian answered, defiant even as he thought of the go karts and climbing wall, “Especially not the games. This place is childish, Richard. Childish and demeaning, and even you would not stoop so low as to drag me here.” he ranted, forgetting that he was Robin with a civilian and not Damian and his brother.

His brother’s smile was full of delight now, “You protest too much. I bet at least one thing caught your eye.”

“I said nothing.” Damian declared again, and sending balls flying, “Now come on, we do not have time to waste speaking of such moronic things.”

Richard cleared his throat, “Uh, Robin, aren’t you forgetting about something?”

Damian turned to see his brother shrug, plastic balls rolling away from him, and Damian caught sight of the ropes still binding his brother.

Fire lit hit his cheeks. He swallowed down the embarrassment and moved again to hastily slice at the ropes holding Richard’s arms to his sides. Even in his rush, he slowed as the blade neared his brother, the night would only be worse if he accidentally hurt him.

The ropes fell away easily, and soon Richard was massaging his wrists and stretching his arms up into the sky, “That feels great, thanks, Baby Bat.”

Damian ignored the nickname, and Richard’s attempt to reach out and ruffle his hair. He ducked and turned towards the ladder by the platform, “Come along, I would like to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Richard hummed, “Yeah, I have no idea when those guys will be back, so haste is probably a good thing. Unless you already took them out?”

“The building was empty when I entered.”

Damian scrambled out of the pit and up onto the ladder. He climbed up, only to realize Richard had not followed him. When he turned to frown at his brother, he could see the man had stopped at the ladder, his eyes focused on the rungs.

“Richard?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. I’ve been sitting there a while, my arms and legs are tingly and just waking up.”

“What else is wrong.” Damian did not ask, but demanded the answer.

His brother shrugged, “I might have sprained my ankle when they tossed me in?”

Damian nodded, assessing the situation.

“Can you climb?”

If it were Damian in Richard’s shoes, he’d power through the ache, but he did not wish to press his brother into doing something he couldn’t. He could support Richard as they moved, and they could utilize a slide to exit this structure, but if he could not climb, getting him out of the pit might prove challenging.

Richard nodded, “I think so.”

He placed his hands on the rungs and started up. It was not an overly high ladder, but even so, Richard made it a few rungs before he paused wincing.

“Here.” Damian said.

He knelt down and reached out for his brother, “I will pull you up.”

Richard gave him a look that could only be described as incredulous. Damian glared at him in return.

“I can handle lifting you a short distance. Push off with your good foot and let us get this over with.”

After another moment of hesitation, Richard reached up and took one of Damian’s hands. His other, he kept pressed to the bars for leverage. Damian pulled as Richard pushed himself up. Below him the ladder wiggled a threat. However, he managed to grab hold of Damian’s other hand with a tight squeeze.

Richard was heavy, but together and with another awkward step onto the ladder, Damian managed to help drag him up. For a moment, they sat together looking at each other.

“Well.” Richard said, “I guess we should keep going?”

Damian nodded, “Indeed. I believe there is a slide exit in that direction.” he waved in the general area he remembered seeing one. At least he hoped it was there. His internal map of the structure felt a little turned around after his dive into the ball pit.

He helped his brother up, and they began moving through the rest of the structure. Damian stuck close to Richard, who insisted he didn’t need to lean on him yet. Still, he kept one eye on his brother, ready to assist if he showed the slightest sign of wavering.

They reached another area where solid panels switched to a rolled floor and Damian threw an arm out to stop their progress.

“Careful, that part can be deceptive.” he said, pointing down at them, “Allow me to walk you over them, so you do not injure your ankle further.”

Richard had an odd look on his face, a smile that seemed as if it hid another emotion, but Damian wasn’t going to worry about his brother’s reaction to his protectiveness. He always seemed to blow things like that out of proportion anyway.

They traversed the trap easily, and had just about reached the slide when a question that had been bugging Damian burst to the surface.

“Why were you in that ball pit? Surely there was an easier place to hold you.”

“Apparently, I talk too much.” Richard chuckled, “In truth, I was seeing if I could irritate them into letting me go.”

Damian couldn’t stop a surprised laugh at that, “It does not seem to have worked.”

Richard shrugged, “It was worth a try, it’s worked in the past.”

At last they reached the slide.

“I will go down first, so I can look for trouble and assist you if you have any problems.”

This time, Damian’s trip down a slide was a controlled one. It was a not altogether unpleasant experience sliding at a quick speed, and turning round and round in a spiral.

He couldn’t help but think back to watching Father, back when the man had lost his memory, playing with children on a large playground. A pang of want, not as strong as then, lodged in his chest. He tried to swallow it back as he popped out. Landing on his feet before he hurried forward to get out of the way.

Damian turned his attention away from lost memories and onto the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp’s interior. His eyes ran from the go karts, paused at the entrance to the arcade portion, and moved over to the climbing wall on the far side of the room. Still empty.

“You may come down, it is clear.” he called up the slide. His voice echoed slightly up the plastic tube, sounding a little hollow and odd.

“Yeah!” Richard cried, his voice bouncing loudly down to Damian.

He could hear his brother swish and bump down the slide as he traversed it, the plastic rumbling as he reached the end. When he came out, he stopped himself with his hands at the exit, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, grinning.

“I don’t care how much you hate these places, we’re coming back.” he declared.

Damian rolled his eyes.

Before he could respond, there was the sound of metal on concrete. He spun on his heel and turned as a large metal door labeled Staff Only rolled up to reveal four very angry looking men carrying guns. By some stroke of luck, they hadn’t noticed Dick or Robin yet.

“We’re leaving now.” Damian said, grabbing Richard’s hand.

He made to run back towards the exit, but Richard yelped, his hand staying behind Damian. He froze, and turned on his brother, eyes looking over him. Richard was wincing and Damian remembered the man’s ankle. It must be worse than he’d let on.

Damian cast his eyes around him for something to get them out of there safely. He stopped when he saw the go karts.

“Can you make it there?” He pointed at them.

Richard’s eyes lit up, “Yes. That’s a big yes.”

Just in case, Damian hooked an arm around Richard’s waist to help support him, and together they hurried at a not quite run for the go karts. Just as Damian was helping Richard over the barrier separating them from the karts he heard an angry yell.

He glanced up to see the men running towards them, a cacophony of voices yelling at them to stop. Damian knew they had moments before the shooting started. He shoved Richard into the nearest kart that had two seats, and ran around to fiddle with the exposed engine. His earlier examination had been brief, but enough to tell him that the karts had safety measures equipped to limit their speed. That would not do.

His fingers were fast and clever, even working on an engine he’d never worked with before. It was moments and he was throwing himself into the open chair. Thankfully, a key was in the ignition and Damian had the kart roaring to life after a moment.

Just as he revved the engine, the gunfire started.

Damian threw the kart to the side, thankful the area the karts were in was somewhat open, and made a large loop, letting the cart pick up speed as he moved.

“Robin--” Richard’s voice was a question, “Just what’s the plan here?”

They were roaring towards the plastic partitions they’d only just hopped over. Damian was confident they were flimsy enough to ram, especially at the speed they were going.

He grinned, “We are going through them. I would suggest ducking. I do not wish for you to get shot while we escape.”

“Damian,” his brother hissed, “There’s an opening to the outside behind us.”

“To an enclosed area. The walls are high there, we would be trapped. This is our best option.” He'd seen the area when entering the Bomp n' Stomp earlier.

Even as he spoke they were nearing the path of no return. The kart raced towards the partition, the men racing towards them. Damian pressed his foot harder against the pedal and then the pointed front of the go kart was slamming through the short plastic partition, breaking apart the multiple pieces that kept it together and sending them flying.

Damian could not help but grin as one piece caught a kidnapper in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He wove the kart through the remaining three as they yelled and one of them got off a shot. The bullet pinged off the side of the kart.

“Whohoo!” Richard cheered as they blew past the last man and sped through the building.

Damian pulled them back into the part of the building filled with various small games. The kart shook as it shifted from tile to carpet. The sound it made changing from a flat rumble to something more muffled. At the bump, Richard winced again. Damian frowned.

“We will be exiting soon.” Damian said by way of comfort.

He could hear the rumble of feet behind him, and even the sound of another go kart having been started. Damian snorted, unless they’d modified it, he and Richard still had the advantage. To make sure, he glanced behind him.

There was only one kart chasing them down, another two seater, with both seats filled. Unfortunately for them, it did seem to be running quickly. Damian swore as it began closing the distance between them. He threw himself back against the seat as the man who wasn’t driving leveled a gun at them and fired.

The bullet sped past them by a wide margin, but the danger was still there.

“Hold on.” he told his brother and pulled the cart around one of the games, twisting through the maze of Jurassic Park simulators and skee ball machines hoping they’d shake their pursuers.

“He’s still there.” Richard said, now taking Damian’s place in watching their backs.

“Lean back, you’ll get shot.” Damian hissed, “We need only make it out the front doors.”

Richard followed his lead, just in time as more shots rang out around them. Damian caught sight of Richard's worried expression out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t have time to turn to him. He kept the cart moving forward, dodging games left and right.

At last, the doors were in front of them. Damian prayed the cart would trigger the door’s automatic response. As they sped closer and closer he started to wonder what it would be like to just plow through those too.

Then they swung open and Damian and Dick burst through.

Behind them, Damian could still hear the squeal of the pursuing kart. That didn’t matter however, as Damian’s eyes lit on the Batmobile. Father was already out, Red Robin beside him. It took them a moment to understand the extent of the chaos Damian had dragged outside, but soon they were moving too.

Damian pulled the kart around them, and heard the distinctive pop pop of something exploding. The men in the kart behind them yelled with surprise, and the sound of the kart cut off with a sudden deafness.

Feeling safe, Damian pulled his foot off the gas, slowing his own kart and turning it to drive closer to Father’s car so Richard would not have to limp far.

Turned now, they could see the other kart coated in foam. One of Drake’s newest experiments, and a successful one at that.

As they stopped, Damian grinned over at Richard, “See. As I said, we only needed to make it outside.”

Richard was grinning, and Damian found himself relieved to realize his brother was fine. Their mad dash did not seem to have resulted in his injury.

They sat in the kart as Batman and Red Robin took care of the two men in the other kart, and then moved inside to deal with the other two goons.

Damian leaned his arms on the steering wheel and gave Richard a small smile.

Richard, leaned forward to mirror him, elbow bumping against Damian’s, “Admit it, you had fun coming through there to rescue me.”

Damian considered the thought for a moment, “Never.”

“Ha! I knew you did.” Richard sat up, delighted.

“I said nothing of the like.”

“But your face did.”

“The go karts were acceptable.” Damian admitted.

Richard reached out and tugged Damian into a half hug, “Good, we’ll do go karts when we come back, and try the rock climbing wall. And I’ll win you enough tickets to get one of those giant stuffed bears.”

“Father could buy me one for less than it would take you to get those tickets.” Damian pointed out.

“That,” Richard said sternly, “is not the point. It will be a thank you, for the rescue and one of the most exciting nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Damian snorted, but leaned a little closer into his brother’s side. Watching as Batman and Red Robin led the remaining two men out of the building.

“I can accept that. I will allow you to bring me back to the Bomp ‘n Stomp when they reopen. Even if the doors are still sticky.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Batfamily #fanfiction #humor #fluff #this one's just fluffy you guys #kidnapping #rescue #Damian is out of his depth but that's not stopping him #Dick is having a Great Time #Precious Posts

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Note

I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on the other day and instantly got me into my Zach feels. Something about it was so him - the mood, the 90s, the flannel. The line “rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my bed” in particular sticks with me. If you have time, can I get a little nugget of Zach? Fluff or smut, or fluff with a wee kernel or smut? I love your writing.

Right so as discussed you didn’t ask for a multichapter fic but as I’ve got 4 chapters so far LET’S DO THIS

So many shoutouts for this so here goes:

THANKYOU @kindablackenedsuperhero for this STUNNING BANNER.

THANKYOU @thestrawberry-thief for US library advice

THANKYOU @heatherbel for the beta and UK library advice

THANKYOU @knittingqueen13 for the encouragement

THANKYOU @pedropascallion for the library clerk advice!

THANKYOU @disgruntledspacedad and @alienprincesspoop for screaming with me about this fic.

Chapter One

Warnings: Scenes of assault, attempted sexual assault ~ Words: 1380

Pairing: Zach Wellison x OFC Martha Song

Walk with your keys in your hand and keep a key between each finger.

Watch your shadows and reflections - a split second’s notice is better than none.

If they take you and put you in the trunk, kick out the headlights.

These are all things girls are taught from a young age. Things I knew, almost unconsciously. Things that were smart.

But did knowing these things stop me from taking a shortcut through the park after the sun had set?

No, they did not.

I had my hand in my pocket, around the keys. I did not have headphones on - needed to hear if someone was approaching.

Usually, I did all the safe things at night. Walked in the road if it was appropriate, so someone would have to come out from the pavements and buildings to grab me. Stuck to well lit areas.

But, well, I was tired, and hungry for the Chinese takeout leftovers in my fridge, could already taste the sticky pork ribs in my mind, and I took the lazy, unsafe shortcut.

I’m sure the media would have blamed me for what happened next.

I heard them before I saw them. I turned slightly. Two guys, one wearing a beanie, another with his hood up.

It wasn’t even seven pm, but in January the sun set earlier, and darkness had descended, filling up all the corners that daylight usually illuminated.

I quickened my pace. I’m sure they’re just coming off shift.

“Hey, babe,” one of them called.

I glanced around. No one else in the vicinity, and the park spread flat enough for me to see. A single streetlight ahead beckoned and I headed for it, the bag of books from work on my back slowing me down.

I thought about ditching it, but: books. I value books more than anything. I couldn’t sacrifice them even for my own benefit.

“Not gonna stop and talk?” the other one called.

They’re just cat-callers, nothing to worry about.

It was just shy of seven in the evening - where the fuck was everyone? LA should have been busy, was always bustling, but I had somehow chosen the one time where this section of the popular park was empty.

“Come on baby, spare a little sugar?” the first one called. Their steps got closer. The second one was snickering and I felt the little mouse of fear skitter down my spine.

I clenched my keys tighter. Shouldn’t have taken the shortcut.

The streetlight got closer, and I watched it, saw the first guy’s shadow with a hair’s breadth of notice. I spun as he reached me, the keys poking out between my fingers, but I was scared and all my punch did was piss him off.

“Pretty girl,” he half wheezed as he grabbed for me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

I struggled. Under the streetlamp I caught a glimpse of the first guy’s face, straggly mousy brown beard, cold eyes. The pit of my stomach fell.

“Let me.” Guy two was at my back, hands on my waist. He smelled of alcohol and something like old food, and bile rose up in my throat. “Loosen up, baby, we only wanna make you feel good.”

I tried to shout, but the noise died on my tongue. Fear had clutched itself around my body and the muscles weren’t responding. My keys fell from my fist.

Help, I thought. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the first guy slid his hand down my body.

No, no, no.

Then suddenly a rush of adrenaline hit my veins - come on, what would Katniss Everdeen do? - and I shoved my knee up into guy one’s groin. Not as hard as I wanted to, but he cried out, a litany of swear words falling from his lips. I kicked out, but guy two was stronger, and had an arm around my throat before I could move.

“Come on now. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled, his sour breath licking at my cheek.

By then guy one had recovered, his face caught in a snarl, white skin pasty under the streetlight. I felt like I was in a sort of backwards ballet, a dystopian dance where there was no way I could make the right moves.

“Hey, assholes.”

The new voice, deep, with a bit of Texas drawl, made me turn.

A man, mostly in shadow, a large duffel bag by his feet, wielded what looked like a big section of industrial metal pipe.

Guy two huffed out a laugh. “Oh look, it’s the little soldier boy and he brought a new toy with him.”

“Let her go, man,” the stranger called out, taking a step closer.

Guy one had recovered from my knee to his dick. “Or you’ll do what?” He grabbed for me again, but he was distracted by my would-be rescuer, so I took the opportunity to knee him again, but this time, like I meant it, like my life depended on it.

He buckled, and the release meant I could drive my elbow back into guy two’s kidneys. He was stronger, through, and he tightened his arm around my throat. I grabbed for his wrist, scrabbling, barely noticing the stranger moving out of my sight.

“Duck!” He yelled, and I summoned all my strength to yank my head down.

In a moment, a loud thunk confirmed my suspicions, the sound of metal on flesh and bone, and guy two toppled like a tree.

Breathless, I turned to scoop up my keys, and stared at my knight in - dirty jeans. He was panting, his arms still holding the pipe up.

“You okay?” he asked, and I saw him clearly under the streetlamp, the glow picking out the gold in his brown-sugar hair. A patchy beard, more stubble than anything, hugged his well defined jaw. His eyes were soft, kind, the deep brown of hot cocoa.

“I am thanks to you.”

Below him, guy one writhed on the floor and, feeling too angry to think, I stomped on the part of him closest to me, his hand.

He cried out and I couldn’t have cared less.

“You wanna call the cops?” the stranger asked, but his tone was wary. As if I might have been just as likely to call the law about him as the attackers.

I thought it over. I’d likely be raked over the coals for having the audacity to walk alone at night (as if anytime after sundown could be counted as night) and my attackers would get a wrist slap. If that.

“Nah.” But I stomped on guy one’s wrist again for good measure.

He whined.

“C’mon,” Brown Eyes said. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the park.” He set the pipe on his shoulder and crossed over to the waiting duffle bag. It was the size of his torso. I took in his weathered, unshaven appearance, and wondered if the canvas fabric contained his every worldly possession.

I checked behind me, but the stranger was quick to reassure. “They won’t be back for a couple days.”

“You’ve… seen them before?”

He ducked his head, and in the glow from a nearby streetlamp I saw a faint flush of rose on his cheeks. “I’m... here a lot.”

He’s homeless. But of course I didn’t say it out loud.

We reached the edge of the park. People milled about, some queueing outside a deli popular for its pizza sold by the cheesy, greasy slice.

I didn’t miss the way the stranger’s head jerked up towards the scent of pizza.

How long since he’d eaten?

“Want some pizza?” I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, but I am?”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Did you come to my defence just now because you felt sorry for me? Oh look, there’s a woman of colour being attacked, gosh I feel sorry for her-”

“No, of course not, what the-” then he huffed out a laugh. “Touchė.”

“It’s just pizza. And a thank-you. I’m Martha.” I held out a hand.

He looked down at my outstretched palm for a second, as if surprised that I wanted to touch him. Then he shook my hand, his own large, warm, callused. “Zach.”

***********

Tagging: @thegreenkid @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @littlemissthistle @havenforafrazzledmind @myheart-pedro @john-in-the-sky-with-paul @idreamofboobear @rae-gar-targaryen @miulola @abuttoncalledsmalls @buttercup-bee @strangelittlenobody @qseomilk @jazzelsaur @songsformonkeys @mourningbirds1 @pajamasecrets @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @skdubbs @nelba @badassbaker @nelba @f0rever15elf @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylittlelonelyappreciation @theravenreads @filthybookworm @aeryntheofficial @toomanystoriessolittletime @lannister-slings-and-arrows (Zach Pit) and @absurdthirst might like this <3

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kimnjss · 4 years ago

Text

ruining his shirt | reaction

NAMJOON

Sat around the TV with his friends, even with the amount of sitting space in Taehyung's living room, you were quick to get yourself comfortable in Namjoon's lap. He didn't mind, of course. Wrapped his arms around you and held your body close to his chest as the plot of the movie played out in front of you.

Movie nights were a common occurrence within your friend group. Always held at Taehyung's house because he had the largest television. It was Joon who had started the trend of bringing their girlfriend's along, turning their guys night into something fun for all of you to do together.

Yoongi is coming out of the kitchen, two boxes of pizza in either hand while Hoseok follows behind him with the other two. The lids being pulled back to reveal the cheesy goodness inside. Mouth watering at the sight, you don't hesitate to reach forward. Grabbing out two pieces, one for you and the an snuggled into your back.

Joon is taking the slice with a mumbled, “Thanks,” eyes glued to the screen as an argument builds between the main characters. You're unbelievably comfortable in his arms, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

It's the unexpected slap on the screen that has your body jumping, a small gasp falling from your lips. Namjoon is jumping too, but not for the same reason as you. Your sudden movement had a greasy glob of cheesy sliding from the top of your pizza onto your boyfriend's stomach.

Neither of you move for a full minute, staring at the pepperoni staining his otherwise white shirt. A look of annoyance on his face but it doesn't last long, fading into a soft smile the moment he's acting sight of the apologetic pout forming on your lips.

“I'm sorry, baby.” You're scrambling to get a napkin to clean up your mess, only to be stopped by the gentle palm on your leg. “Don't worry about it, love.” He's taking the napkin from your hand to finish the job, before pressing a few soft kisses to your forehead. “All better,”

His arm is back around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Easily settling back into the relaxed mode he was in before the spill. With you in his arms, his ruined shit was the last thing on his mind.

JIN

Jin was rather spontaneous when it came to your relationship. Hardly ever called you up to plan a date ahead of time, more often than not you were getting a call a few hours before he was showing up at your front door. If you were lucky.

Most days, you loved that about hm. Never knowing when he'd be showing up at your door with his pouty lips claiming how he couldn't stop thinking about you so he just had to rush right over. Never once would you hesitate to invite him in, more excited than the last when you got a chance to hang out with him.

Today was different, though. Not to say you didn't want to see him – you always wanted to see him. But today was one of the extremely rare occasions where he had set up a date with you. Wanted to take you out for lunch after you finished your exams, knowing how hard you've been working the past few weeks.

He had told you about this at the beginning of the week and you should've had it imprinted in your mind, but with everything else you had clouding your mind – your lunch date unfortunately took the back seat.

So imagine your shock when Jin's name is lighting up your phone. A one line message letting you know he's on his way to pick you up. It's in that moment that it's all rushing back and you're springing out of bed to get ready. You're still wearing his shirt that you mindlessly threw on after your shower as you rummage through your makeup bag. Desperate not to look like you've spent the entire morning in bed scrolling through Twitter.

Caution to spills is the least of your worries as you rush to get pretty. Seokjin's shirt seems to catch everything that misses your face and even more when you're startling at the sound o the doorbell. Only a courtesy because he knows our door code. He's walking in just as you're tying your hair into a proper ponytail.

Eyes rolling playfully at the sight of you only half ready. He's pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, eyes fining yours in the mirror and dropping to the stains on your shirt. “I was looking for that shirt the other day,”

You're taking the moment to look down at the top, noticing for the first time the mess you've made of it. But when you're catching Jin's gaze, he looks the least bit upset. “I'm sure it'll wash right out,” He's sinking onto your bed with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Don't worry about it,” Long arms stretching over his head before he's laying back on the bed. “It's your shirt now anyway,” Such a simple sentence, one that he probably didn't think too much about. But it has a large smile lifting your cheeks.

YOONGI

Another late night spent in the studio, with you pestering Yoongi to eat something more than the bag of chips that he had opened on his desk. You're met with an eye roll and a huff, his eyes staying focused on the computer screen in front of him.

He didn't even budge when you're were bringing in his favorite meal, announcing it loudly while wafting the delicious scent in his direction. Somehow, you manage to fight your way into his lap. Lifting up a mouthful and holding it out to him. Barely paying attention, but unable to resist is jaw is dropping open and you're pushing the food into his mouth.

The timing is off at one point, he's opening his mouth just a bit too late and you're not looking so the hot noodles are landing on his clean beige top. He's registering the heat on his stomach, brow furrowing before he's looking down at the mess you've made. He's annoyed, you can tell because he was trash at hiding it. Although he didn't want to take it out on you, it didn't take a genius to know that he felt some type of way of you ruining his shirt.

Yoongi doesn't bring it up again, but you saw the look on his face when he had to toss the garment away – not being able to get the stain out. And the way his face lights up when you're surprising him on his day off. A black shopping bag in hand with the bold 'FG' printed on the side. The exact shirt you had ruined days before neatly folded inside.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile grows, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to tug you closer to him. He's pressing a dozen kisses to your forehead, before he's pulling back to pull the shirt he's currently wearing off replacing it with his new one.

Your heart swells when he's thanking you with that gummy smile, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

HOSEOK

Both Jin and Jungkook came rushing into the room covered head to toe in paint. Laughing loudly and pulling your attention from your phone to them. A paintball fight they were having outside is what has them dripping paint on to the living room floor. Only in for a second, so Jungkook can get a drink of water.

“What are you doing?” Had just been re-watching Catfish from season one, trying to waste time until Hoseok was coming back home.

He's inviting you to come to and play with them and you're hopping up with very little hesitation. Rushing to follow the two of them outside, not even thinking to change the clothes you're wearing.

Instead, you're jumping right into playing with them. Running around the yard and laughing as paint splatters onto your legs and arms... and clothes. The free you of end up collapsing with laughter on to the grass, breathing heavily from all the running you've been doing.

Not even the slam of the car door in the driveway has you jolting up, Jimin's voice hitting your ears as he's exiting the car. Taehyung is a few steps behind him and your boyfriend after that. They're walking to see what you're up to.

Urging yourself to stand, you're moving to tackle your boyfriend in a hug but he's stopping you before you can reach him. Eyes dropping to the stained shirt on your body. “Is that my shirt?” It's the first time that you're taking a moment to look down at the shirt that you've got on.

Only now remembering how you had slipped into his white grocery bag top today after your shower. Had planned to change into your own clothes sometime later that day, but never got around to it. And now the white was splattered in rainbow paint.

“Oh, baby. I'm so...” You can tell just from the look on his face that he's not pleased. Can't even blame him for being upset, you had been careless. “It's acrylic paint... it'll come right out,” Jungkook is stepping in, attempting to ease the awkward tension that grows.

It's a stupid thing to be mad about, so arguing isn't on his mind at all. He's simply sighing, running his fingers through his hair before mumbling out, “Just wash it, I guess.” He doesn't say anything else, taking one last look at his stained shirt before leaving to enter the house.

JIMIN

With his lips pressed to your ear, his breathy moans fan over skin. Hidden from the rest of the party goers, he's trying his best to stay quiet. But it's extremely hard with your hand in his pants, stroking him to his end.

Jimin has a tight grip on your hips, desperately trying to keep himself grounded somehow. You had been eyeing him from across the room since he showed up at this party, didn't miss your chance with going up to him. Flirting the best way you knew how until the two of you were dancing unbelievably close on the dance floor.

And as it does, one thing led to another leading up til now. Huddled together in a dark corner with your hand down his pants and his lips on your neck. “Fuck, I'm so close...” His voice has your skin prickling with goosebumps.

The alcohol that cruises through your veins being drown out with the feeling of intoxication you get from being around him. Feeling of him surrounding you with his sweet scent. It's no secret to you, or any of your friends the crush you had on this boy. The obvious flirting that took place between the two of you enough to raise a few eyebrows, but was never surprising.

Jimin's hips seem to mindlessly move with the strokes of your hand. Shuddering when you're running the pad of your thumb over the head of it. It's not long before his hushed moans become desperate whines against your ear. His grip on your hips tightening as the arousal rakes through his body, creating a stiffness in his legs.

He's grunting out your name just moments before he's releasing, with your hand out of the way his cum is staining the bottom of his black shirt with white. Teeth scrape against your skin as he comes down, eyes screwed shut.

You're not pulling your hand from his body until he's completely winded down. Breathing heavily against your skin. His gaze dropping when you're moving your hand from his body, catching sight of the wet marks on his shirt. The sight has his cheeks burning red and you can't hold back from teasing him.

“See the big mess you made?” He's letting out a breathy chuckle, leaning down only to capture your lips with his. Jimin kisses you slowly for a moment, allowing his tongue to twist and push with yours before he's pulling back.

Butterflies rise in your belly at the sight of the sultry grin on his face. Only getting worse with the words that follow. “Should I make a mess of you too, then?”

TAEHYUNG

An impromptu barbecue with Tae and his closest friends is the best way to spend a summer night in your opinion. Night swimming with Yoongi before racing Jungkook to the table with the plan of loading up your plates in mind.

Sandwiched between Taehyung and Namjoon, the three of you hanging on to every word coming out of Hoseok's mouth, the story of Jimin trying ad failing to get some girls attention holding the attention of everyone at the table. Except for Jimin who acts like you're all sitting in silence.

Taehyung has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding your body snuggled close into the side. Only releasing you when Jin is coming to the table with a second tray of food. But once he's picked out all he wants to eat, he's pulling you close again.

Days like this were definitely on the top of your list. Being able to be with hi, relax with him made you happy. Your relationship with Taehyung was... interesting to say the least. Not one hundred together, but one thousand percent exclusive. It was like the two of you had this mutual understanding of the lines you shouldn't cross and never even tried to.

From the way he treated and acted around you, it didn't take a lot of thinking to put together the fact that he had feelings for you. And you had feelings for him too, just neither of you have made the move to make things official, so they just stayed the way they were.

Hoseok's story is coming to a close, the conversation shifting on to Jungkook and the plans that he was supposed to keep open tomorrow. You're no longer listening, just simply enjoying yourself in your man's strawberry scented embrace, mentally bouncing from conversation to conversation as you settle in his hold.

So wrapped up i your own thoughts, you're not paying as much attention as you should when you're setting your drink back on the table. The cup set perfectly on the edge that it's teetering the moment you're letting go, toppling over and landing in Taehyung's lap. Dirtying his pretty sky blue top with red fruit juice.

“Oh, shit! I'm sorry!” Scrambling to grab some napkins, but Taehyung is quick to stop to you. Barely jumped when the liquid was sweeping through the fabric. Soft lips stretching into an easy smile as he reaches for the edge of his shirt. In one swift movement, he's pulling it up and over his head. Tossing it away without a second thought.

You're being pulled back into his side immediately after he's refilling your cup. Slipping back into the conversation that he had been in before as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place.

And for some reason, you can't help but smile. Finding yourself relaxing back into his side stupid feelings growing for him. Times ten.

JUNGKOOK

“Kookie,” Jungkook is looking up confused at your sheepish tone, eyebrows furrowed when he sees the way you're standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom. You look like a child on their way to confess to breaking their mom's favorite vase. And in a sense you were.

Your boyfriend was real meticulous when it came to doing the laundry, separated the clothes in three different loads to avoid any bleeding. You, on the other hand didn't really care for the difference. “What happened, baby?” He's sitting up, eyes landing on the balled up shirt you have clutched in your hands.

His favorite gray Carhartt t-shirt blotchy with bleach stains. Extending your hand, you're holding the ruined shirt in his direction. “I tried to do the laundry...” He had been so busy lately, all you wanted you do was take one thing off his plate. “I don't know what went wrong...”

“This is not a white shirt, Yn.” Jungkook is taking the shirt from your hands, spreading it out to fully inspect the damage you've done. His brows creasing and a frustrated pout forming on his lips. “Baby, you can't put bleach..”

Catching sight of the look on his face has a defeated sigh falling from his lips. Setting the shirt aside, Jungkook is lifting his arms to reach for you. Gently pulling you where he sits on the bed.” Lets just have me do the laundry from now on, okay?”

“I just wanted to help... you always do it,” He's shushing you with a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, brushing the hair back on your forehead so he can get a better look at your face. Pushing a smile onto his lips, he's telling you that it's okay – even though you know he's a bit bummed by the fact you've ruined his favorite shirt.

No matter how many times he insists that he doesn't care, you're still ordering the exact shirt that you've ruined. A couple sizes too big, knowing how much he enjoyed clothes that were big on him. He kisses you the moment you're walking through the doors, enclosing you into his warm embrace.

Hidden behind your back is the shirt you bought and his fingers are catching it as his hands roam your body. The soft giggles that leave your lips are breaking the kiss, forcing him to peak at what you have hidden behind your back. “Is that a gift for me?” His brows are lifting with his inquiry, grinning at the nod of your head.

Jungkook is pressing a kiss to your puckered lips, at the same time his arms are snaking around to tug the the shirt from your grasp. Pulling back from your lips with one final kiss, before he's lifting the shirt into his view. “Shut up, baby. You got this for me?”

“I know you were bummed about me ruining the first one,” He's happy about the shirt, of course. Appreciated the fact that you went out and replaced it. But at the height of that, he was happiest that he had you.

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p2

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Part One // Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She posted part two yesterday and just posted part three! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

“Oh, God,” Derek cries as soon as he’s rushed over to sit next to Spencer, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “baby, I was so worried. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you come back to me but I just couldn’t do it. I had to get Pen to track your phone in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Der,” Spencer says, pulling away and blinking tearily at the anxiety mixed with relief written across his boyfriend’s face. Guilt floods his stomach as he thinks about the terror he’s just put Derek through: the exact same feeling he’s been lamenting over Derek inflicting upon him. How is he any better? If anything, he’s only worse; Derek does what he does to serve others, Spencer’s been nothing but selfish all evening.

“No, baby,” Derek protests, lifting a hand to his face and brushing away a falling tear, “you don’t need to apologise, just… talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer doesn’t waste any time in agreeing. It’s the least his boyfriend deserves. “Can we go home? I want to eat that Thai food in bed while I tell you. I’ve already cried one too many times in a church for the day”

Derek chuckles at that. “Of course, pretty boy. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He takes Spencer’s hand gently and leads him towards the exit, and when Spencer turns back briefly before walking out of the building, he doesn’t miss the smiling priest lingering near the altar.

⭐️

Derek doesn’t let go of his hand the whole drive home, clinging tightly even on the elevator up to their apartment, and it only serves to make Spencer feel guiltier. How had this not clicked earlier? He never stopped to think about the worry his boyfriend was going through back home, only prioritising himself and his own selfish feelings.

He starts to wonder whether he should actually tell Derek after all. His boyfriend is so endlessly kind and selfless and wonderful and Spencer wants to point out his one flaw? After he’s left him panicked and concerned for his well being all evening?

He anxiously gnaws on his bottom lip as Derek tucks him into bed, seemingly oblivious to his distress as he kisses his head gently before making light work of reheating the take out he’d ordered earlier. Spencer’s stomach spins and turns with anxiety as he burrows himself under the covers, desperate to hide from all that’s to come, unable to escape the helter-skelter of emotions consuming his mind.

Soon enough, Derek makes his way into the bedroom, turning off the main light in favour of their various cosy lamps and flicks on the TV, setting it on reruns of Fawlty Towers with the volume turned down before arranging the takeout on trays before finally slipping under the duvet himself.

“Baby, I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on,” Derek says softly, turning Spencer’s chin to face him and gazing imploringly into his eyes, “that poor lip of yours will be bitten off by the morning. But I want you to know you can trust me with whatever this is. I promise that there is no problem, no issue, no stressor that we couldn’t overcome together. Me and you, we’re a dream team, aren’t we? We can solve this, but not if you’re not completely honest with me.”

Damn it, now Spencer’s going to feel guilty no matter what path he chooses. He either lies and breaks Derek’s trust, or he tells the truth and breaks his heart.

But the priest’s words from earlier flash through his mind, and he takes a deep breath, knowing what he has to do. “I’m scared,” he admits, tentatively. It feels like a good place to start.

“Okay,” Derek replies soothingly, eyebrows knitted in concern as his thumb traces the side of Spencer’s face. “What are you scared of, Spence?”

“I’m scared… I’m scared of losing you,” he whispers, casting his eyes downward.

He feels Derek tense next to him, but he doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s confused or something worse. “Baby boy, you have to understand that you’re it for me, I’m never going anywhere—”

“No,” Spencer interrupts, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, “not like that. I know you love me, I’ve never doubted that for a second. I’m scared of losing you to something worse than another person. I’m scared of losing you to a gunshot, a stab wound, a bomb blast. I’m scared of losing you to the job, Derek.”

“Oh.” His thumb falters in its soothing movements against Spencer’s cheek before it retracts completely.

“You’re a hero, Der,” he says tearily, not bothering to try and fight them this time, “you’re an inspiration. You’re strong and powerful and the kindest, most selfless man I’ve ever met, but I— I’m gonna need you to start being a little more selfish.”

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Remember back in 2007 when that woman was trapped in her car with a bomb under her seat? You stayed right next to her the whole time, even though you knew that if that bomb went off, it was taking you with it. Because in that moment, looking after that woman was all that mattered.”

Derek nods hesitantly, his brows knit even tighter.

“Well, I could deal with that. I accepted it. We were newly in a relationship, and I knew the kind of man you were when I started dating you. I didn’t think you’d give that up for me so soon. But, Derek, it’s been seven years now. We’ve been together for almost a decade, and you’re still the same man. You run headlong into danger with no regard for how it will affect you. And I love your selflessness and generosity, I really do, but I need you to know how that makes me feel.

“It makes me feel like I’m not important to you, Der.”

“Oh, baby, no,” Derek says, distraught as he wraps Spencer in a tight, urgent hug, hand flying to run his fingers through his curls.

“But, no, it does, Derek. Because it feels like one of these days, you won’t be as lucky as you always have been, and I’ll be alone again. You’re all I have, and I can’t lose you, I just can’t.” The tears are joined by heaving, desperate sobs as he cries into Derek’s shoulder, both of them holding onto one another with clawing fingers, impossibly close as emotions fill the room.

When Spencer finally calms down enough, he pulls away to find Derek’s eyes red and his cheeks wet, too. “I— I had no idea you felt like this, baby boy,” he says earnestly, looking deeply into his eyes as his devastated emotions play across his open expression. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were anything less than the most important person in the whole world to me, because you are, Spencer.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers sadly. “You didn’t know.”

“No, but I do now. I never stopped to think how this was affecting you, and I’m so deeply sorry for that.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as they fall against one another, both accepting that the Thai is going to go cold again and they’ll probably end up with a greasy 2am pizza instead.

“It’s because of my dad,” Derek admits eventually, breaking the silence. “When I watched him bleed out in front of me, I swore I would never let that happen to another person. I would never let another person die on my watch, not unless I was going down with them. And that was an easy principle to live by when I was a cop, it translated well to the FBI, and it worked great when I was single. But now… I have you. And you’re more important than a promise I made to myself when I was ten.

“The thing is, though, that I don’t know how to override an instinct that I’ve built and enforced for my entire career. Spencer, you’re everything to me, and you’re more important than this, but I… I don’t know how to change.”

Another tear slides down Spencer’s tired, puffy face at Derek’s words, mostly because they were exactly what he was expecting. The only reason he’s kept this to himself for so long is because he knew that no possible resolution could make this okay.

“It’s okay, Der,” he says sadly, “I get it—”

“I think I should leave the BAU.”

Spencer sits bolt upright at that, turning to his boyfriend with shock written in every line of his face. “What?”

“Listen, I’m 43. I’ve been on the job for twenty-one years, and I’m getting tired, Spencer. I was planning to bring this up at a much better moment, but I’ve just finished that house on the Mount Pleasant border, and I think we should move in there. I’m ready for a quieter life, Spencer. I want to do things that make me happy, focus on the future of our family, me, you, and Clooney — kids, too, if we decide that’s the way we want to go — and leave this life revolving around death and crime and the bad in the world behind.”

“You’re serious?” Spencer asks, completely in disbelief as he stares at Derek like he’s grown an extra head. This was never a possibility he considered. Not even a little bit.

“I am,” Derek promises. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and this just seals the deal, really. I don’t want you to be feeling this scared all the time, especially not if it’s set off even by a couple of bruised ribs. Diving in front of a bullet when wearing a vest is hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done.”

Derek chuckles but Spencer just smiles sadly at just how true that statement is. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’d love to focus on the property business full time, renovate more houses and really make a career out of it. Build a proper business, live in the suburbs, be happy and safe and alive with the love of my life for as long as possible,” Derek says, eyes warm and serious as he brushes his hand against Spencer’s face again. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

Spencer’s heart melts and he presses into Derek’s side, burying in as close as he can get. The tears that leak from his eyes this time are at least happy ones. “If you leave,” he says, after considering it for a moment, “I think I want to leave, too.”

“Really? You don’t have to, Spencer. You can stay at the BAU if you want to.”

“I know. But I’ve given over a third of my life to this job, and it’s given me all it can, I think. Before Gideon recruited me, I always thought I’d end up teaching, and I always knew I’d love it. Researching and teaching others what I’ve found out for a living sounds like a dream, and the thought of coming home to you, knowing that you’re safe every night as we sit down for dinner and chat about our normal, civilian lives… well, it’s everything I didn’t know I’d been longing for.”

A kind of peace that Spencer hasn’t felt in years settles over his chest as he basks in the thought of a safe and happy future with Derek, one not plagued by the trauma they’ve faced willingly for far too vast proportions of their lives, and he knows it’s the right decision.

“Wow,” Derek says, and woven in with the shock in his voice is relief, clear as day, “we’re leaving the BAU.”

“We’re leaving the BAU.”

Spencer eventually packs the Thai away and orders an extra large pepperoni pizza for delivery, letting Derek rest in bed as he takes over the beavering around. Fawlty Towers continues to play across the TV screen throughout the course of the night, Spencer resting his head on the top of Derek’s chest, careful to avoid his injuries. In that moment, with his favourite TV show playing, and an empty pizza box on the floor of their bedroom, cuddled up safely with the man he knows he’s going to spend forever with, Spencer thanks a God he’s not sure he believes in that Derek, right now, is soft, happy, and most importantly, his.

Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

— Please, let him be happy.

If you haven't already - check out Emily's post, and give some love to the original poem source here!

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic@strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #cm fic #moreid #moreid angst #moreid fluff #moreid fic #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #spencer reid/derek morgan #my writing

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 5 years ago

Text

Every Breath You Take - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki has been stalking you for weeks, and you have no idea why. One night, he decides to claim what is his.

Characters: Loki x female reader

Words: ~6300

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit language, stalking, dub-con and/or non-con smut (depending where you draw the line between those), breaking and entering, choking/breath play, fear kink, power dynamics, humiliation, praise kink, basically Loki being a dominant mother fucker

Author’s Note: Major song inspiration for this is “Every Breath You Take” by Devil + Winter. Yes, I know it’s a remake of an older song, but I looove that specific cover so much.

This might officially be my favorite oneshot I’ve written thus far, so I hope y’all enjoy!

Every Breath You Take

Glancing at the clock, you puffed out a breath at the late hour. It might be Friday, but you had refused to leave the office until all weekly projects were completed by their deadline, as well as a few extras that you wanted to finish ahead of schedule. You had snagged a government job, and there was no way in hell that you were going to slack off or cause anyone to second guess whether you were the most qualified choice.

Sending off an email to your supervisor with the attached completed work, you gave a triumphant grin before logging out of the computer system, grabbing your purse, and hightailing it for the elevators. Thoughts of a long, hot bath followed by curling up on the couch with delivery pizza and a sappy movie were beckoning, and after a week full of working early mornings and even later evenings, you deserved it.

Exiting the elevator and crossing the lobby, you waved and said goodnight to the evening security guard. He was unsurprised to see you leaving so late and wished you a good weekend. The sun had set hours ago, but the street was still semi-lit from the city lights, sections of darkness broken by circles of lamp light, car headlights, and the muted glow of lit windows.

And yet, he still managed to hide within the shadows.

You wouldn’t have even noticed, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been an unfailing constant lately. Each time you exited the office, even if it was just to run down the street to the nearest food truck, he was there. Standing right across the street from your work building, intense stare fixed in your direction, tonight was no exception.

The first time it had happened, you had been sure you were hallucinating. Especially because no one else seemed to notice the tall figure, pedestrians passing by with no acknowledgement. It was as if he didn’t allow anyone to see him. Just you.

Habit made you glance across the street again, and sure enough, the shadowed outline of his lean form was still waiting between the patches of light. It was as if he had molded them to his own benefit, wrapping the night around himself so that only the inhuman flicker of his eyes glinted at you out of the darkness.

Loki, the God of Mischief, had been silently stalking you for weeks. And you had absolutely no idea why.

Starting down the street, you felt his presence as a prickle on the back of your neck. He was there as you walked a block over to the bus stop, and it was only when you were safely on board and in a seat that the sensation disappeared. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, knowing he was gone. The reprieve was short-lived, since you also knew that he’d already be there when you got home.

Sure enough, once the bus exited the city and stopped near your block, the sensation of being followed returned. You walked quickly up the front path of your suburban home, hands shaking slightly as they fit the key into the front door. He never came too close, never followed you across the threshold, but the idea that he could made your mouth run dry. Once you were inside with the door closed and deadbolted, you went around double checking all the windows and the back door. Yep, still locked.

Peeking out between the blinds in the living room, your eyes scanned the moonlit yard, looking for movement. You didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, lurking. For the millionth time you contemplated reporting him, but also for the millionth time you had no idea who exactly to tell. It wasn’t like you were highly-ranked enough to have Mr. Fury or the Avengers on speed dial. And the police would think you were having a mental break, since it seemed as though Loki could cloak himself from being noticed, even when in the middle of a crowd.

You had just started working for S.H.I.E.L.D a couple of months ago, as a low-level data interpreter. To say you were at the bottom of the totem pole was accurate, but you were prepared to work hard to elevate yourself within the organization. Sure, you’d never be an actual agent or spy, but there were upper level positions within your department that would one day have your name on them. You weren’t about to jeopardize those possibilities by creating waves while still in your probationary period, especially since you doubted your by-the-book, no-nonsense supervisor would do anything other than laugh in your face if you tried to tell him that a friggin god had chosen to follow you around. Hell, even your own family would probably assume you were overworked and delusional.

Which meant that you were stuck dealing with the issue of Loki yourself...and so far your grand master plan had been trying to ignore him in the fervent hopes that he would get bored and leave you alone.

Though he was impossible to totally ignore, you had made some progress with not lying in bed awake all night, staring at the ceiling and fearing the moment he’d decide to come inside the house. You still did this for about half of the night, but hey, progress. When he had shown no interest in crossing that boundary, you wondered if you were supposed to feel more terrified at his lack of intent, or safe with the knowledge that he was lurking around the house like your own personal security system.

And while you had at first been too scared to leave the office for lunch knowing he was out there, after a week of huddling in your cubicle you had been furious with yourself. It had been a piss-poor day anyways, and you had barely made it to an 8am meeting on time thanks to forgetting to set your alarm the night before (probably because you had been too busy stressing over the god lurking outside). Deciding that enough was enough, you had walked outside with head held high, ready to march down the street to the nearby deli. He had been there, of course he had, piercing gaze immediately zeroed in on you the moment you exited the building’s doors.

Lack of sleep and frustration making you feel bold, you had actually stopped and glared black at him. It was the first time you had been assertive enough to acknowledge him without any visible fear, and you were damn proud of yourself.

That pride had quickly turned to ash when the corners of his mouth curved slowly upwards, lips parting to showcase a sadistic smirk that caused your heart to drop into your ass, legs doing a 180 and practically sprinting you back into the building. Turns out you hadn’t been that hungry, after all. You had left the office for lunch a few times since then, but always kept your eyes pointed down at the sidewalk, never daring to nonverbally challenge him again.

Now, after checking for the umpteenth time that all the blinds were closed, you went through with your evening plans, the hot bath relaxing tense muscles and greasy pizza filling your soul as much as your stomach. And when you crawled into bed a few hours later and drifted off to sleep, you almost forgot about the powerful god who was stalking your every move. Almost…

~ ~ ~

Startling awake a few hours later, you sat up in bed and grabbed for the bedside lamp, flicking it on. Eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, you scanned the room with a pounding heart, relief washing over you at seeing that the corners were empty. It was just a dream, you soothed. It wasn’t real…

Said dream had been filled with flashing green eyes, lips twisted into a cruel grin, and a large, powerful form pinning you to the bed.

Licking bone-dry lips, you got out of bed and headed down to the kitchen for a glass of water. You didn’t turn on any other lights, both because you knew the layout of the house well enough to navigate it in the dark, and in hopes that your movement wouldn’t alert a certain visitor who might still be in the vicinity.

The microwave clock showed that it was a little after 3am, which meant you had only gotten a couple hours of sleep before the raven-haired god had once again disrupted your life. There were enough windows with moonlight streaming in through the blinds that you had no trouble navigating the kitchen. Not wanting to open the fridge and risk him seeing the light, you grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and went over to the sink, glancing out the small window above it but seeing only an empty yard.

The glass was half full when you felt every hair on your body stand up in warning. All those blinds had been shut earlier. You had checked them multiple times before going to bed. Your eyes flew back up, breath catching in your throat at the sight. Only seconds ago the view of the yard had been empty, but now…

Loki was standing mere feet away, on the other side of the glass. Moonlight lit up his features, the pale unblemished skin giving off an eerie glow as his emerald eyes burned into you through what, suddenly, felt like a pathetic excuse of a barrier. Shock and fear made your suddenly shaky fingers loosen their grip on the fragile water glass, causing it to fall into the sink and shatter. The noise was like a gunshot to your frozen state; you jumped and screamed in alarm before realizing the sound wasn’t from the window. Eyes jerked down to the sink, where pieces of glass lay scattered and sparkling in the dim moonlight. When you looked back up again, Loki was gone.

Suddenly, a wave of anger flowed through you, heating your blood and overtaking the fear long enough for you to make what, looking back, was a really fucking stupid decision.

You were so done with his shit, done with living in constant hypervigilance and fear because some god had decided to play with you like a bug in a jar. Without allowing yourself to fully process the stupidity of what you were about to do, you went over to the back door, opened it, and stormed out onto the porch.

Breath puffing with adrenaline, you glanced to your right, where Loki had previously been standing. Instead, there was only empty air. This served to piss you off more, as it was obvious that he was just toying with you. Well, you were done with the games.

“Listen up, asshole!” you shrieked at the empty yard. “I don’t know what your problem is, but-” you cut off abruptly as logic finally caught up to anger. Your brain was frantically waving a big, red ‘this is a really stupid idea’ sign and telling you to get back inside.

The flames of rage quickly fizzled out, replaced by an icy wave of fear when the asshole in question suddenly appeared in the middle of the yard, seemingly out of thin air. He stood silent and still as the night, all-black Asgardian clothing molded to his tall and proud form so that he blended in with the shadows.

You felt, more than saw, his eyes trail slowly down over your body, expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. You were suddenly very aware that you were only wearing a lavender tank top and grey sleep shorts, bare toes curling against the cool wood of the porch. The sheer vulnerability of your situation kicked-started the flight response, and you took a slow step backwards, not wanting to lose sight of what your survival instinct classified as a wild and unpredictable predator.

The plan failed instantly when Loki burst forward, black cape fluttering out around his form as he strode across the yard. You weren’t sure if he looked more like a fallen angel or avenging demon, but the effect was enough to jolt your body into motion as you turned and sprinted for the still-open back door.

Crossing the threshold, you felt a small spark of relief, thinking how he never came inside, that you just needed to get the door closed and…

He hit the wood with such force that you were thrown into the kitchen, stumbling back against the opposite wall when he stepped inside. His gaze zeroed in on you as he lifted one booted foot and kicked the door shut.

The loud slam made you jump, vocal cords suddenly coming back online as you opened your mouth to scream. He moved so fast that you didn’t even have time to consider fleeing, his hand cutting off the scream before it even left your throat. He slammed you into the wall, his palm so large that it covered the entire bottom half of your face and effectively cut off your oxygen. His other arm caged you in, palm flat against the wall right beside your head, making you feel utterly trapped. Eyes widening with terror, you clawed at his hand, fighting to breathe. You might as well have been an insect trying to stop an incoming shoe with all the difference your struggles made.

“You will be silent. Attempt to scream again, and I will choke the life out of you. Understood?”

His low, dark voice made you shiver with fear, but you were so desperate for air that you would agree to almost anything at this point, and so nodded frantically up at him. His eyes narrowed for a few moments, as if assessing your reliability, before sliding his hand down so that it lightly encircled your throat and anchored you to the wall.

Gasping in blessed oxygen, you panted up at him with heaving breaths, eyes shifting back and forth as you tried, and failed, to come up with an escape plan. If you thought he had been intimidating from a distance these past few weeks, it was nothing compared to the vision of him up close. He practically buzzed with power as his lean, muscular frame towered over you, the ebony-clad chest and shoulders blocking any view of the kitchen and back door. The fingers at your throat flexed slightly in silent warning, as if he could read your thoughts and was reminding you that escape was futile.

You looked up at him, still in shock and trying to process the fact that a literal god was in your kitchen. And not just any god, but one who had terrorized your city, made a crowd kneel at his feet, and declared his intent to rule the planet. His arrogance was legendary, his powers terrifying. And you were so, so fucked.

Glancing up, you took in his face, semi-shadowed in the moonlit kitchen. Flawless porcelain skin showcased features sharp enough to cut glass, your eyes scanning over his sternly clenched jaw and lips pressed into a tight grimace. They gave off a coldness that sent a shiver down your spine, but then you looked up past his straight, regal nose and found the blazing heat of his gaze. He was watching you intently, those cruel lips curving up the slightest bit at your obvious perusal.

Horrified to have been caught staring, your eyes quickly lowered, taking in the expensive fabric that covered his tall, powerful body. You felt him bend down, every muscle tensed in fearful anticipation when his face stopped right beside your own. You could practically feel the effort he made to reign in his strength, the capability for violence coiled tightly right below the surface of his skin. Still too scared to lift your eyes, you heard as he slowly inhaled through his nose before exhaling through his mouth, so that warm breath ghosted over the side of your neck and caused goosebumps to erupt across your flesh.

Holy crap, had he just sniffed you?!

He gave a dark chuckle at the noticeable shudder that ran through your body in response to his actions. The hand at your throat moved up to tightly grip your chin, tipping it upwards until your eyes fluttered up as well and were ensnared by his gaze.

He was taking you in, noting your eyes dilated with fear and mouth slightly parted as your chest heaved to take in panicked breaths. He seemed to catalog all of your reactions with a piercing intelligence, as if storing away the knowledge for later.

“Do you fear me, human?”

The low, rumbled words shouldn’t have been enticing, but you’d be lying to deny the stirring low in your gut that resulted from his voice whispering in your ear. It actually took a few seconds for the question itself to filter through your brain. Unable to nod with his fingers still gripping your chin, you instead gave a soft, breathy, “Yes,” which caused him to smirk.

“Good girl.”

Okay, now that definitely caused a reaction, your body heating up at the mixture of fear and praise he provided. Dear god, what is wrong with you?! Scream, fight, do something!

As if he could read the thoughts in your gaze, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah ah, little one. You’re not getting away until I allow it.”

Attempting one last ounce of bravery, you asked in a pleading voice, “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes lit up, as if he were impressed that you dared to question his motives. The fingers at your chin loosened slightly, his eyes watching as he moved a thumb slowly back and forth across your lower lip.

“This planet is exceedingly uninspiring, and I have found humans to be particularly boring. So I had to obtain entertainment in one form or another, didn’t I?”

Well that sure wasn’t the answer you had been expecting. All the weeks of following you around, scaring you to within an inch of your life as you tried to figure out what reasons he had for singling you out, and it was all because he was bored?

You were grateful to feel a spark of anger return at his callous response and utter disregard for what he had put you through these past weeks. Looking back later, you’d think that he had verbally poked at you on purpose, had wanted you to showcase a bit more fight to add to his entertainment of the situation.

Through gritted teeth, you said, “If we’re so boring, then why waste your time following me around?”

His fingers trailed back down over your throat, and for a moment you thought that your words had been a fatal mistake, that this was when he decided you weren’t worth the trouble and strangled you. Instead, his fingers flitted over the pulse in your neck, pausing there as if to measure its beating, before gliding further down and across your delicate collarbone.

“I said humans were boring.” The tips of his long, cool fingers slid underneath the right strap of your tank top, pushing it towards your shoulder. “I didn’t say that you were boring.”

Shocked into silence, you felt the fabric being dragged down over your arm, the neckline lowering with it so that the top swells of your breasts were visible. You felt like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s crosshairs, too scared to move outside the involuntary trembling that started in your knees and traveled up the length of your legs and torso.

“Please,” you whispered, staring up at him helplessly, beseeching him to let you go. Wanting this to all just be a dream in which he would suddenly disappear and you would wake up in your warm bed.

“Begging already?” he taunted. “But we’ve barely begun.”

With that, he grabbed the neckline of the tank top and yanked, the fabric no match for his inhuman strength as he literally tore it from your body. The cool air hitting your bare nipples was what thrust you into action, as you reached up to shove against his shoulders with all your might, hoping to make him stumble back long enough so that you could dart to the side and make a run for it.

Instead, you might as well have pushed against a stone wall, even the adrenaline-laced strength not making him retreat so much as an inch. The only reaction your action caused was him to huff out a dark laugh of amusement before he flung the tatters of the tank top to the side and leered down at your exposed flesh.

You watched, wide-eyed, as a large and surprisingly warm palm cupped your breast, testing the weight of it. The whimper that left your throat was purely out of fear, you told yourself, and had nothing to do with the sensation of him pinching your nipple between two of those slender and graceful, yet powerfully masculine, fingers.

“What delightful noises you make, pet. I’m eager to learn how many others I can wring from your lips.”

Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. The whole situation was too surreal, too overwhelming. Your brain couldn’t compute all the mixed signals it was getting from the rest of your body. Thighs trembled with fear and the desire to run, but your traitorous nipples were hard as stone, and not just from the chilly air.

Loki noticed as well, of course he did. He was a master of lies, and of reading them in others, so there was no way your body was going to fool him. A pleased look lit up his eyes, and the emerald blaze was too much, causing your own to squeeze tightly shut when he leaned in close.

The words were whispered from mere inches away, and they brought with them a pang of arousal that shocked you to the core. “Don’t fight it, girl. You were made to be ruled, to be owned. And I’m going to make you mine.”

You gave a little sob in response, but didn’t argue, didn’t struggle. Not even when the hand at your breast continued its pleasurable torment while his other hand left the wall to trail down over your ribs and waist until it met the top of your sleep shorts. The tips of his fingers hooked inside the fabric, and with one graceful movement he shoved both shorts and panties down over your hips, so that they fell in a pile at your feet and left your body completely bare.

“Step out of them,” he commanded, fingers dancing softly along your hip bone.

Frozen with indecision, your breath came in audible gasps as the mixture of fear, anxiety, and burgeoning desire made your head spin. The headstrong and independent mentality that was so self-ingrained insisted that you fight him to the very end. But there was another part of you, a hidden and previously unknown part, that wanted to do as he said. Wanted to give in and submit.

Before you could find out which side would win, the hand at your breasts leapt back up to your throat, the movement so quick that you barely had time to register it before your oxygen was cut off. Eyes flew back open in panic, but before you could even attempt to struggle, the long fingers of his other hand caught and held your wrists tightly together, effectively trapping you once again.

His face lowered directly in front of your own, his straight, white teeth bared as he snarled, “I said step. Out. Of. Them.”

At this point, you’d do just about anything he asked if it meant being able to breathe, and so obediently lifted first one foot and then the other out of the shorts and underwear. He used his own booted foot to shove the fabric so that it slid across the floor off to the side, but didn’t yet let up his grip on your throat.

Your vision was growing spotty from lack of oxygen as you choked and squirmed in his grip. He looked delighted at this, his gaze dropping down to watch your body’s involuntary twists and jerks before lifting back to your face.

“You’re a willful little human, I’ll give you that. But from now on, when I give an order, I expect you to obey. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded desperately, and when that didn’t seem to satisfy him, sputtered out a barely audible, “Yes”.

“Sorry, pet, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again.”

Certain you were about to pass out, you put all remaining energy into gurgling out another attempt of the word. It must’ve been enough, because he whispered ‘good girl’ at the same time his grip loosened, allowing you to cough and gag as your lungs frantically filled with air.

His hand stayed in place this time, splayed across your throat in silent warning, as his other palm released your wrists, coasted down the front of your body and, without any hesitation, delved between your thighs. When you tried to close them, he used his own leg to wedge yours back open, pressing his erection into your hip and making it clear where this was heading.

Those cruel yet seductive fingertips ran along your slit before dipping into the humiliatingly apparent wetness and spreading it up to your clit. He gave a hum of male satisfaction at your pleasured gasp, exploring your body in a way that made both shame and desire heat your skin. The tip of his finger teased at your wet opening, barely dipping inside. Your hips bucked, and you didn’t know whether it was an attempt to get away or move closer.

His voice was more raspy than before, when he asked in a condescending tone, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, my pretty little girl?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the way your pussy clenched onto the tip of his finger when he called you ‘his’, but judging by his groan, he had.

Slow, achingly slow, he pushed his finger inside you, the long digit reaching places that your own hands never could. Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, baring your throat to him, as desire officially overtook the will to escape.

“Yes, that’s it,” he cooed, the thumb of his other hand tracing over the rapid pulse that beat in the side of your throat. “Show how you belong to me.”

His words should’ve scared you, and they did in a far-off and hazy kind of way, but you were more focused on how he was pushing a second finger inside you. He rubbed them with knowledgeable precision against the sensitive front wall, making you cry out when they found your g-spot. And when his thumb also started rubbing quick little circles on your clit, you decided that maybe belonging to him wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

He continued that way, relentless, his breaths coming in heavy puffs against your cheek as he finger fucked you roughly until the tension between your thighs coiled into a tight spring of need. Whimpering, you dimly realized that your hands were grasping desperately at his arms and your thighs had fallen open wide of their own accord.

“There you go, pet. Take your pleasure, be a good little girl.” The hand at your throat tightened slightly, just enough to make you have to work a bit harder to draw breath. “And then, I’m going to fuck you...and I’m not going to be gentle about it.”

The orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly, and it was unlike any you had previously experienced. The combination of his praise and threat, along with the motions of both his hands, sent your body soaring. Your cries were hoarse and strained from his grip at your throat, and your legs shook as you came all over his hand, his eyes flaring down at you with delight as your body convulsed against him.

He removed the hand from between your thighs, lifting his wet fingers to your lips and ordering you to open them. Still drunk off the orgasm, you did so without hesitation.

“Suck them clean. Taste your own desperation,” he purred, teeth nipping sharply at your ear as he ground his hips against you.

Once he was satisfied with your work, he removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop before reaching down to his crotch and starting to undo the fabric. You watched in silent awe as he removed just enough of the unearthly clothing to release his thick cock, the head a dark red and already glistening with precum. Despite your recent orgasm, you still felt a bit of apprehension, knowing it was going to be a tight fit. He gave it a few firm strokes with his fist before he grabbed your hips and twirled you around so that you were facing the wall, his feet pushing your legs open even wider, spreading you out for him.

It felt so taboo, his still fully-dressed, muscular body pressing into your naked back, his bare erection bobbing between your spread thighs. He was so tall that when the hand at your throat pushed upward, forcing your head to tip back until your face was parallel with the ceiling, he was able to lean down over you and make eye contact. You tried to look away, but his fingers pressed into your windpipe in retaliation.

“Eyes on me, girl. I want to see that little look of pain in your eyes when I press into you.”

Your eyes widened at that, causing him to chuckle. The tip of his cock notched at your opening, but he didn’t press forward, drawing out the tension of the moment.

“Who do you belong to?” he taunted.

Licking your lips with both anticipation and nervousness, you whispered, “You.”

He made a deep, approving noise in his throat. “Yes. Say it. Say my name.”

“Loki,” you answered with a cry, as he started to press his cock forward, your body twisting as it struggled to adjust to the wide head.

“No no, don’t tense up,” he hissed. “Take it. Take it all.”

With that, he pushed inside you with one long, slow thrust. You felt the slight burn as your body stretched to accommodate every thick inch. It must’ve shown in your face, because his lips curled into a smirk at the same time as he groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back.

“Mmm, you suffer so beautifully for me. Look at you, taking all of my cock like a good little girl.”

The bastard knew what his words did to you, panting out a chuckle when he felt you involuntarily clench around him in response. Your hands were braced against the wall, back arched as he grasped your throat and hip with his hands and impaled you on his cock. You felt so full, so utterly overtaken when he ground his hips into your ass, as if to see just how deep he could go.

He withdrew slowly before thrusting back in, quick and harsh, causing you to cry out with the sharp pleasure-pain. He did it again, pulling his hips back agonizingly slow until the tip of his cock was resting at your entrance. He paused for a moment before pushing back inside, as if to recreate that initial claiming thrust. After doing this about half a dozen times, he stopped teasing and set up a steady and deep rhythm, each thrust sending sparks throughout your entire body.

Your eyes had started to flutter shut, but his hand cutting off your air caused them to reopen and focus up at him, his chiseled features hovering over you in the dim light, gaze searing down into your own. This time, you didn’t panic, didn’t tug at his arm, just stared up at him with desire-glazed eyes and let him do as he wished. You could practically feel his approval of your surrender, his fingers loosening long enough for you to draw a few breaths before tightening again.

“You’re so pretty like this, surrendering to me,” he growled through bared teeth, once again letting up on your throat so that you could gasp in air and let it out with a moan. “Every breath you take is mine. Every gasp from your lips, every flutter of your pulse...it’s because I allow it. And now, I’m going to fill up this cunt and claim it as mine.”

Your whimper was cut off as his hand tightened once more, hips picking up the pace as he thrust brutally into you, his balls smacking your clit and fingers pressing so deeply into your hip that you knew there would be bruises to match the ones at your throat. The edges of your vision were starting to become fuzzy when he let up for the last time, his hand lowering from your neck to run over your breasts, tweaking the nipples until you whined before continuing downward.

When his fingertips zeroed in on your clit, you let out a pleading noise which, under other circumstances, would’ve made you ashamed at how needy it sounded. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for, but you did know that he was the only one who could give it to you. The harsh bite of his cock dragging against your sensitive inner walls combined with the fast and skilled movements of his fingers drove you up to the edge, forehead dropping to the wall as you moaned uncontrollably, his answering grunts sending shivers through you.

The hand gripping your hip came up to wrap in your hair, pulling your head back so that you were once again looking up at him, and you couldn’t help but think that he was one of the most glorious creatures you had ever seen. His features looked as wrecked as you felt, cords in his neck standing out with stark relief in his pale, moonlit skin as his jaw clenched tightly, eyes focused unwaveringly on you. It was one of the most intensely intimate moments of your life, his piercing gaze breaking you wide open with nowhere to hide.

You started shaking uncontrollably, body balanced right on the knife’s edge of pleasure and wanting so badly to fall over into the abyss. His lips twisted knowingly as your pussy started to flutter around his cock.

“Yes, that’s it. Come for me.” The hand between your legs pressed in harder, moved faster. “Come for your god.”

As if the words were the final push your body needed, the orgasm flowed through you. It wasn’t as volatile a punch as the first one; instead, it drowned you in waves of blissfully intense pleasure that drew soft cries from your lips, the sound mingling with his own strangled groan. Leaning down, hand still fisted in your hair, he bit into your shoulder as he came. You felt his warm cum filling you as he did just as he promised, and claimed you as his.

Mind floating from the high of your orgasm and body trembling with little aftershocks, you felt his hips slow then still, his mouth moving from your shoulder to lick a trail of sweat that was running down the side of your neck. Whimpering, you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into his, grinding onto the softening cock that was still buried deep.

He hummed with approval, his hands running up over your sides, tracing your body with possession for a few long moments as both of your bodies calmed. Taking your earlobe gently between his teeth, he whispered, “You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose. Is that clear, kitten?”

Part of you wanted to deny him, wanted to find the strength to fight back, now that the orgasmic stupor was starting to lift. Instead, your body responded of its own accord, head nodding with submission.

His lips pressed softly to your temple, making you gasp at the gentle touch. You realized dazedly that it was the first kiss he’d given you all night.

“Good girl.”

The words were said a moment before his body moved away, his cock slipping wetly from your body. The cool air hitting your back made you immediately miss his body heat. You turned around, unsure what to do or say next…

But he was gone.

The back door was slightly ajar from him disappearing into the night, leaving you standing there, naked and shivering, his cum starting to trickle down the inside of your thigh. Grabbing your shorts and panties, you put them on before finding the tatters of your tank top and holding it to the front of your chest. Walking over to the door, you closed it with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the empty kitchen.

You went around to the windows and re-closed the blinds, stopping at the last one to glance out into the yard. It was empty, completely undisturbed, but you knew he hadn’t gone far...and that he wouldn’t be gone for long.

Leaving the broken glass in the sink to deal with in the morning, you grabbed another one, filled it with water, and headed for the staircase. As you tucked back into bed, body already sore in places that made your skin heat with the memory, you thought back over his final words.

You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose.

You wondered when he’d return to make good on his promise...and as you drifted off to sleep, tried to ignore the dark part of you that hoped it would be soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Afterword: This is meant to be only a one shot. I know, I know, I left it very open-ended. But I like to leave something to the imagination, so y’all can create your own fantasy idea of what might happen to “you” next ;)

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