#if you split them up i will blow up this entire building

[pyotrkochetkov]

Martin Nečas and Andrei Svechnikov meet for the first time

[teaboot]

How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican

In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.

For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely

Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.

also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out

And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.

Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted

To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments

But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar

And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries

But I'm rambling.

We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.

And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)

There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool

And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.

And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been

My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.

If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here

But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can

So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:

"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."

[fluffypotatey]

okay so:

the year is 2021. the month is june. the new season of hermitcraft, season 8, has just started, and everything is great! the hermits are all messing around, having fun, building insane things within the first week of the server being active, and generally having a good time. everyone's collected themselves into little factions, pranking each other, and it's all the fun, lighthearted, mostly-vanilla content hermitcraft is known for.

and then the split between minecraft versions 1.18 and 1.19 is announced. the delay of new terrain, and especially of new mobs like the warden, considerably disrupt several of the hermits' plans. but it's fine, they'll figure something out, they're professionals, and it mostly goes unnoticed.

about two weeks later, on november 9th, grian turns to mumbo jumbo in one of his episodes, and asks the famous question that would seal hermitcraft season 8's fate:

"mumbo, is the moon... big?"

suddenly, the fans panic. they search back through videos and streams, and realize that the moon had been abnormally large and stuck in a full-moon phase since october 30th. the Moon Big event has begun.

this is where the roleplay really starts. once the moon's size has been brought up, the hermits start a weird combination of scrambling to figure out why the moon's growing, and how to stop it- but also of ignoring it, hoping it won't be a problem, hoping someone else will deal with it. the moon keeps getting bigger, more hermits start realizing it's going on, and a creeping sense of dread starts to grow. but it's fine. it's fine, right? they do little plotlines like this all the time. they'll figure something out, the moon will go back to normal, and we'll laugh about it when this is all over. it's fine.

and then, blocks start flying away. just floating up out of the ground, and falling right back down! like for a moment, a square meter chunk of dirt has decided it's a ballerina and leaped out of the ground! but it's fine, right? the blocks are coming back. no lasting harm is done. they're going to fix it all... right?

the moon gets bigger. it's growing every day- local hermit weirdguy joe hills measures it every stream. the blocks start flying higher. gravity starts getting... weird, with players getting the slow falling effect at random, and being lifted off of the earth themselves. the players form cults and rituals and whatnot to try and appease the moon, convince it to leave them alone, making plans to escape. nothing works. things keep getting worse, and the moon keeps getting bigger. but it'll be fine. these storylines never leave lasting harm, or at least they never have before. they'll be fine.

and then the blocks stop coming back, just floating into the sky forever. the players have the slow falling effect more than they don't now. the moon is now so big it's visible even during the day, and fills the entire sky at night. they start planning their escapes in earnest, and say their goodbyes. some hermits jump into a void hole in the overworld (it was the centerpiece of their village). some flee to the End, some to the nether, some just fly with elytras and hope they can get far enough away in time. one brave hermit, tango, flies himself to the moon in a futile attempt to blow the whole thing up before it can crash.

but in the end, the moon crashes into the server, and everything they'd built was destroyed. and the whole time, there'd been nothing any of them could've done. season eight was over, a full six months before anyone had expected it to end, and season nine wouldn't start until about three months later. and im still not okay about it.

(here's a cool animatic of the moon's crash! honestly i dont think you need too much hermitcraft knowledge to get the gist)

(also the moon crash happened on the day before my birthday lmao.)

….

holy shit

[triptuckers]

discoveries - remy lebeau

Request: yes! "Your writing for gambit is so good omg 😭❤️ single handedly feeding me rn!! I was wondering if you would write Gambit with a S/O that has one huge tattoo? Lol I got a sea serpent tattoo last year that crawls up from my arm and onto my chest and it’s my absolute pride and joy!! I’m so curious what Remy’s reaction would be to that 👁️👁️" Pairing: remy lebeau x x-men!reader (reader has the ability to manipulate plants and tree roots and use them as shields/weapons) Summary: when you get hurt during a mission and remy takes care of you, he finds out about your tattoo Warnings: mentions of fighting, violence, injuries (reader gets injured), blood, dizziness, tattoo's, angst Word count: 1.6K A/N: anon getting this request made me realise yes I do need a new tattoo (I'm literally broke and unemployed). enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

being part of the x-men meant you always had to be ready. even if you were spending a cozy afternoon with remy in one of the gardens of the mansion. apparently the newest set of power hungry villains didn't care if you had the day off.

it's how you find yourself - after complaining about it a great deal - strapped in on the jet less than twenty minutes after you got all but hauled inside the mansion by beast.

remy is sitting next to you, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, hands tucked behind his head.

'don't fret, chéri, we'll be in and out in no time.' says remy.

even though you had been dating for a short while now, it still made you blush when remy called you nicknames. and he knew it. he's smirking at you now, noticing your reddened cheeks.

'that's what you said last time, and we were there for an entire day cleaning up messes.' you say.

remy merely shrugs. 'I've got a good feeling about this one.'

'alright you lovebirds, can we focus? I'm taking her down.' says scott from the front of the jet.

once you all get out of the jet to assess the situation, you can feel remy's presence next to you.

'bet I can take out more than you, chéri.' he whispers in your ear.

'you're on.' you say.

you and remy are instructed by scott to take care of the villains on the ground while the others get the people trapped in the surrounding buildings to safety.

as the team splits up, you and remy run towards a small group of people who randomly shooting around, creating panic and chaos.

at first, you thought they were just low level criminals, but then you notice the kinds of guns they carry.

'remy!' you yell.

you're quick to manipulate the soil, making tree roots shoot up from the ground that knock remy out of the way but gently lower him to the ground behind a few upturned cars.

'that's sentinel tech.' you say once you catch up with him.

'merde.' he says, shaking his head. 'how do they always get their hands on that? ready to take them out?'

'let's go.' you say, flexing your fingers and making the soil beneath your feet rumble slightly.

remy winks at you before taking off.

the two of you work together to get take out the group currently focusing all of their fire on you. as long as the others got all the people in the buildings to safety, they could point their guns at you all they like.

you and remy move quickly through and around the group with practised ease. while you're focusing on the fight, you can hear remy make witty remarks.

'hey, chéri!' you hear him call.

as you crush a guy's windpipe by wrapping roots around his neck, you quickly shoot him a glance.

'I'm up to seven!' he says, holding up one of his cards, which is a seven of hearts.

'get your head out of the counting, remy!' you say, dodging a blow from your next attacker.

'you got less than gambit?' you hear him say somewhere in the distance.

'I got nine!' you shout.

you hear him curse, then you hear two short explosions before remy appears in your line of sight with a smirk on his face, holding up a card with the number ten on it.

'showoff.' you say, but you smile.

remy winks at you before taking off after a few men who had the sense to run away.

as you follow him, you fail to notice one guy wasn't entirely knocked out. you're too late to notice him. he quickly gets close to you and slashes a knife through your side.

you yell out in pain as your knees threaten to give up on you. you quickly turn around to throw a sharp wooden dagger at him, but your aim is off.

from the corner of you eye, you see a flash of purple and moments later a sharp card hits your attacker square in the forehead, making him crumble to the ground.

you distantly hear someone yell your name as you sway on your feet, a wave of dizziness taking over you. you blindly reach out for something to steady you when your hands find something warm and solid.

remy has caught you in his arms. he's worriedly looking down at you, then notices your side.

'oh, merde...' he says, gently prodding your side.

you suck in a sharp breath at the wave of pain spreading from your ribs. as a reflex, you tighten your hold on remy's arms.

'j'excuse, chéri, hold on, gambit's gonna take care of you.' he says.

before he can say anything else, a shot narrowly misses him. remy quickly throws a handful of cards with his free hand that isn't holding you up.

'cyclops!' he yells. 'I need backup! we got one man down!'

you can hear remy's voice both above you and in your earpiece. you hear scott's answer as remy reaches down to pick you up.

as another sharp burst of pain shoots through your body, you glance down. one of your sides is soaked in blood. the knife had ripped a large gash through your uniform.

you frown at it, you loved your uniform. and now it's ruined. you look up to remy, who is holding you into his arms as he runs toward the jet. he's talking to you, but it's like you can't understand him. you close your eyes to fight off the dizziness, but remy lightly taps your cheek.

'non, mon amour, you can't close your eyes. keep them open for remy, yeah?' he says.

mon amour. that's a new one.

you weakly nod at him.

you see a flash of red as scott runs past you.

'beast!' says remy. 'we got medical supplies on the yet?'

'yes!' comes beast's instant reply. you reach up to take the earpiece out, the sound is too loud and harsh to bear. you're so comfortable in remy's arms, who is trying the best to keep you steady as he runs to the jet as fast as he can.

you hear remy talk to beast as he enters the jet and gently lowers you onto a chair. he reclines the chair so you're more comfortable.

'I'll be right back, chéri.' he says with a kiss to your forehead.

you can hear him rummage around somewhere behind you as you're fighting to keep your eyes open. the pain in your side had shrunk down to a dull ache, but you could tell blood was still coming out of the wound.

remy comes back, carrying a bag of medical supplies with him.

'this ain't gonna be pretty.' he says as he moves closer to you.

'just get it over with.' you say.

'you just keep talking to me, yeah?'

'sure.'

'bien. here we go.'

remy reaches into the bag and gets out a pair of fabric scissors. he hesitates briefly. the two of you hadn't been dating for very long. not much had happened besides the occasional make out session. you'd seen remy without a shirt when you would play basketball with the team, but remy had never seen you without a shirt. suddenly it all felt too quickly.

'it's okay, love.' you say, bringing him out of his hesitation. 'I trust you.'

he nods at you before carefully cutting your uniform off of you. when he has cut away the biggest part of the top half of your uniform, his eyes fall to your body.

not the wound, but rather the other side.

a tattooed serpent that slithers from your rib cage over your shoulder and disappears into the sleeve remy hadn't cut off.

instead of checking the wound, remy trails his fingers softly over your tattoo. you watch as his eyes follow the pattern of ink. you would have thought you were shy and nervous to be sitting here shirtless with remy. but you loved your tattoo. the design is beautiful, and it means a lot to you.

'so that's what you've been hiding beneath that suit of yours.' he murmurs.

'you like it?' you say softly. while you loved your tattoo, there had been different kinds of reactions from people who saw it.

'chéri... it's beautiful.' says remy, soothing your worries.

'I almost feel bad for having to cover it up.' says remy, reaching out to get out the medical supplies.

'don't worry, you'll get to look at it plenty after I've healed.' you say.

'really?'

'yeah, of course. if you'd still have me with a giant scar on my side.'

'I'm with you til the end, mon amour. now let's get you fixed up.' says remy, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 'in the meantime, tell me the story how you got it, hm? need you to stay awake for me.'

'alright.' you say softly, and you start telling the story of how you got the tattoo as remy works on cleaning the wound and bandaging you up.

when he wraps the binding around your chest, you can tell his hands linger on your tattoo, tracing its outlines.

you close your eyes and lean back as remy secures the bandage. you feel how he lightly taps your forehead, then presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

'all done, chéri.' he says.

his voice sounds close, and when you open your eyes, you see his face right in front of you.

you smile tiredly at him. 'can I sleep now?'

remy smiles back at you. 'oui, mon amour.'

'stay here?'

'always.'

you feel how remy gently traces your tattoo again as you drift off to sleep.

A/N:thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[bengiyo]

Hello 👋

All of your favorite horniest sex scenes?

Hello! I've been busy, so this has taken forever to get to!

I don't always need the guys to bounce around on each other and gyrate enthusiastically for it to out as horny. Oftentimes, I find myself more drawn in by the building desire between the characters, and the explicit acknowledgement of release. I like when the sex feels like it's also revealing something to us about the characters. I've highlighted many of these before, but it's fun to revisit.

Ghost Host, Ghost House Episode 4 Couch Scene

I will never get over this scene, and especially the director's cut of it. These guys knew they liked each other almost instantly, and it was so rewarding to see them reach a place where they could express that. Bonus points for discussing the logistics of gay sex.

This show has been on Gaga and YouTube for a while, but it's also now available on Viki!

La Pluie Episode 6 Floor Scene and Episode 7 Bed Scene

I liked this scene so much that I wrote about it. Again, there's a lot of anticipation between these two, and you can tell how far it's built up because Patts has to dial it back down when Saengtai wants to stop. It's especially important to me because Saengtai does blow Patts in the next episode. If you're on iQIYI, there's an extended cut of that at the end of the video lists.

Mood Indigo: The Post-Funeral Scene

These two are so horrible for each other, but damn are their sex scenes compelling. Theirs are the kinds of scenes only possible between two people you know can never work long term. I was so glad that we got back to Haruhiko in Playback, and the first thing he did was blow Rio in a car. If you haven't seen the Novelist, and you're itching for hornier BL, it's right there.

The End of the World With You "You're Soaked"

From the same team as The Novelsit, we got to experience baby's first fuckboy in this incredible show. Again, I love when we get scenes with couples who aren't ready to work, because they're allowed to have raunchier sex. They get to amp the intensity of the physicality because they need to give a reason why someone was so caught up and missed the warning signs. I actually love the car scene later as a more romantic intimacy scene, but we're focusing on horny here.

Jack o' Frost Birthday Sex

A common theme here with the Japanese offerings is that people are allowed to have more interesting sex scenes right before they split. This is true even in Jack o' Frost. We get a really great oner from the leads that precedes their breakup and Ritsu's accident. I think this might be my favorite of this list because the actors have to build the entire scene together since there aren't any cuts.

Gameboys 2 Bed Scene

Cairo and Gav are one of my favorite pandemic couples we got on screen, and I was quite relieved for them when they finally got to have this moment. We also confirmed they switch, and I love that.

Wedding Plan: Namnuea Showing Off His Stamina

No list for me would be complete without including them. I really loved seeing two gay men go at it after clearing out all of their misunderstandings. They had already had sad goodbye sex. It was thrilling to see them having enthusiastic, athletic sex. This also leads directly to one of my favorite emotional payoffs for a closeted character of all time.

Kiseki: Dear to Me Reunion

The second couple stole this show, but damn if I didn't love the way these two played out sex across multiple years between their characters. These two really suffered, and I really love the way Taro Lin and Hsu Kai captured the changes between these two as Bai Zong Yi grew and matured. This really was a solid sex scene.

Love Class 2: Sungmin and Joo Hyuk

I just really wanna thank them for reassuring me that if Korea wanted to, they could deliver.

Sleep With Me Jeans Scene

I am not a lesbian, but I share their beliefs. This scene was so good. I loved that these two, who have different kinds of disabilities, were able to have a very fun sex scene. I really like when it's clear both characters want to be there.

Only Friends: Boston and Top in the Car

Despite my eventual disdain for this show, I was impressed with Neo and Force for giving this incredibly selfish sex scene between their characters. This entire scene is about injured egos, and it's a standout scene from this show. We won't discuss the rest of the show here.

Thanks for the ask!

[grandline-fics]

Hi there! I really like your writings and I wanted to request about strawhat crew reactions to over power reader, (if its too much you can just do the monster trio reaction) even better when they didn't think the reader would be so strong. you can make the scenarios however you like! thank you and stay safe muach ❤

DESCRIPTION: You’re so much stronger than they thought

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

WORDS: 1,274

A/N:  Thank you for the request and hopefully you like what I came up with for this. I tried to make each scenario different so hopefully it works.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LUFFY

Luffy glared as he raced through the headquarters of their current enemy. He had dropped his guard for a moment and in that time the entire crew had been split up into fights by the different henchmen. While he had every confidence in the strength of the others and knew they would win, he couldn’t help but worry for you. You were newer to the crew but in that time, Luffy couldn’t help but feel more protective and aware of you compared to how he felt of the others. He knew that being a pirate was a dangerous life and in a way that was part of the fun of it all but he just didn’t want to see you hurt. 

It didn’t help his worrying to see that your opponent was the Boss’ right hand man, someone Luffy could sense was just as dangerous as the Boss. He’d done all he could to end his fight as fast as he could but it was hard to stay focussed and not put himself at risk. Luffy stumbled slightly as he ran through the building, feeling one injury in particular throb painfully. After he rescued you he would track down Chopper and get patched up. At least that had been the plan. 

Around him the building began to rumble as the sound of distant impacts drew closer and louder. Luffy slid to a halt just as the wall to his side burst into pieces and a body slammed against the floor in a bloodied heap. Luffy tilted his head to the side and lightly rolled the person over, eyebrows raising in surprise to see the henchman he’d been worried would hurt you lying in front of him. Had Sanji or Zoro finished their fight and helped you? 

No that didn’t seem right. None of the injuries matched his crewmate’s handiwork. This was different but he knew whoever was behind it was strong. Behind him he heard someone approach and he turned to see you slowly climbing from the holes in the wall. You’d been ready to land another blow to your opponent just incase your last attack hadn’t done the trick. You were glad to see that he was defeated but you were surprised to see Luffy there. “Hey, Luffy. You finished your fight too?” You asked with a smile while dusting yourself off from the debris. “Come on, we should find the others and get out of here.” Luffy looked over your slightly bruised and cut body and grinned happily. It seemed you could look after yourself just fine. 

ZORO

“What the hell is this?” Zoro asked as he sheathed his swords and stepped towards where you were sitting in the middle of a destroyed battlefield, your opponents and rubble cast around. You looked up from your spot to smile in greeting to the swordsman before looking around at what you’d done. “You took them all out?” He asked, unable to keep the surprise and slight disappointment from his tone. 

“Well I was going to leave half for you but I got bored of waiting and I could only toy with them for so long.” You told him with a light shrug while trying not to feel too guilty about your actions. You honestly hadn’t intended to do it all on your own. When you and Zoro had teamed up to deal with the enemy on this side of the base you hadn’t expected him to get lost the second you took your eyes off of him. You weren’t too worried about his wandering, knowing he’d get to where he was meant to eventually. Zoro looked at you silently, taking in your relaxed words. 

You hadn’t been on the crew for very long and any previous fights they’d been involved in you hadn’t really stood out to him. Yes you dealt with your opponent but he hadn’t seen you do anything on this scale before and part of him wished he had seen you go all out like this first hand.  For one thing you looked completely unharmed, maybe a scratch or two but nothing ultimately serious or painful. For another he could see by the destruction around you both and the injuries on the unconscious group you were clearly powerful. He couldn’t help but scowl and drop his hands back to his swords, he really wanted to find someone to fight, he’d been looking forward to this. You watched Zoro and lightly bit your lower lip as you fought a smile. 

“Were you hoping to protect me from the enemy?” You teased lightly, deciding to try and distract him from his annoyance at not getting to fight. As expected he tensed and looked at you in disbelief. “That’s so sweet! I promise the next enemy we find you can have them all to yourself and I’ll be your swooning ‘damsel in distress’ okay?” You asked with a grin that grew when he lightly shoved your shoulder. 

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s not like that.” He muttered, looking away from your face as you laughed. “Besides you can’t ‘let me’ have the next enemy. I’ll cut them down before you even know they’re there.” Zoro declared while scratching the back of his neck, now sensing just how dangerous you were going to be both on and off the battlefield. 

“Sounds like a fun challenge, Zoro.” you grinned.

SANJI

Sanji stood in shock as he stared out from the railing of the Sunny. Where a line of Marine ships had once been with the intent on blocking their path and taking them down was now reduced to destroyed hulls, floating rigging and debris as the officers on board clambered to stay afloat or make the attempt to swim for dry land. Every Marine no longer paid them any mind as the Sunny sailed away from them. It had been over in a matter of minutes and you were the one responsible. 

When the ships had first appeared you’d asked Luffy to throw you over and you would take care of things. You’d just joined the crew and dealing with the annoyance of a Marine blockade seemed like the fair thing to do to earn your keep. Sanji and a couple of others were about to protest, about to say that it wasn’t down to just you to deal with them but Luffy being the impulsive Captain that he was believed in you and tossed you through the air without a second thought. His faith in your was quickly proven when you destroyed the ships in your way like it was as easy as swatting an insect. When the last vessel had crumbled, Luffy stretched his arm across to pull you back to them.

While it was a positive to have another strong member on the crew, Sanji hadn’t been prepared to see just how powerful you were. He cleared his mind from the shock and approached with his usual flirtatious smile on his lips. When he’d first met you he’d been taken by how attractive you were and now that he’d seen how physically strong and capable you were, he was already falling harder for you. “That was a wonderful sight! How lucky we are that you’ve joined our crew because if you were to leave us now, I’d be like those ships back there; completely broken.” He grinned at you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the overly sweet and somewhat cheesy declaration from the cook, knowing that his heart was in the right place. You looked up at Sanji with a bright smile. “Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

[mechanicalpiper]

Hey so I know your busy doing important things (And hearts out for whatever your doing) but I just had another idea come to mind that maybe you could put in a catalog for the future!

"Villain has just been defeated in a long battle by Hero and has decided to try a bit of seduction to win the day. However, Hero is Touch Starved to hell and back and cries at the slightest nice touch/caress"

Bonus points for some heart clenching fluff

Yours truly!

Cooper

You ever procrastinate so hard you start and finish an entirely different project?

By FAR the sappiest and most hurt/comfort-y I've done and was stupidly fun to write. Enjoy :3

Snippet #8

The sounds of strike after strike rang out through the empty city street.

Hero and Villain were once more locked in a tense brawl- nothing new, of course. It had become second nature to them by now- when you spend almost every other day scrapping with the same person for years, it's not hard to get used to it. Hell, with how familiar the two had gotten with each other's fighting styles by now, it was easy for either of them to just let their mind wander while they brawled if they just weren't feeling too up to it that day.

Hero was certainly having one of those days.

They semi-consciously blocked Villain's strikes and threw blows back, less like they were brawling for the safety of the city and more like they were doing a boring day job. An entirely different focus was on their mind... one that had stuck around for a while now. A thought? A worry? A feeling, or the lack of one? Hero couldn't tell by now.

They quickly ducked out of the way just in time as Villain threw a kick at their head, knocking them out of their train of thought and back into full consciousness.

Yeah, fuck, they were fighting Villain. Almost forgot.

Villain certainly took notice of their sudden attention. "Oh, THERE you are. C'mon, can't you at least focus? It's so much less fun when you zone out like that."

"Whuh-? Pff, fun? I'm here to stop you from committing murder, not for a little playdate." Hero grumbled back at their rival, still not fully back at attention.

"Hm. Certainly not the attitude from our first battle. Losing your touch, maybe?" Villain taunted back.

"You wish."

"I don't think I need to. You seem to be dulling just fine without help."

"Still sharper than you. I was winning without paying attention! You couldn't beat my subconscious, how do you expect to beat the rest of me?" As Hero shot back, a tiny smile began to form on their face. Wow, it's been a while since they've bantered in combat like this... it felt nice to just speak with someone, even if that someone was Villain, of all people.

"PFFFF. Winning? The only reason you're not bleeding out on the concrete right now is because I'm having fun with this. I spared you there, y'know~" Villain taunted, a confident grin on their face.

"Yeah, riiiight. How about you actually do something threatening before making simple empty thr-"

Hero was cut off by a sudden feeling- they brought a forearm up to block a strike from Villain, but instead of the expected punch, they felt a grab.

A... grab?

Hero froze in place for the slightest moment.

It was only a split second, but it felt like ages, as if their brain was desperately trying to to cling onto the brief moment. The slightest sensation.

Villain's touch was soft.

Yet, despite everything, the moment was still over far too quickly. Hero hardly even considered why Villain would go for a grab in the moment- by the time they processed the fact it was an attack, it was far too late.

Villain turned around to throw Hero against the concrete wall of the building behind them.

They let out a yelp of pain as they slammed backwards into the wall. After the touch, the motion of being thrown, the hard hit... Hero was far too disoriented to get back into action, let alone stay balanced. Unable to stand up, they just slid down against the wall with a small groan of pain until they found themself at a sitting position, defeated.

Villain let out a small, cocky giggle, stepping closer to Hero to look down at them.

Hero, while still rather disoriented, looked up to see Villain towering over them. ...Wow.

"Is that 'threatening' enough for you, sweetie~?" Villain taunted once more, looking down at the defeated Hero with cocky confidence. God, they loved the feeling of the weakened Hero looking up at them. Always felt nice to win against them.

Hero was already ignoring the pain.

Their brain latched onto that one word- one Villain didn't so much as emphasize saying, like it was nothing special.

Sweetie??

A pet name. A pet name??? Villain called them a pet name??? Sure, they've heard of it being used for taunting before, and really never thought much of it, but- but something about it felt so, so different. When was the last time they were acknowledged like that? Was there a last time? Why did just being acknowledged feel so good? Fuck, they shouldn't like this, they were beat up and lying against a wall with their arch nemesis towering over them, taunting them, but- but not k-killing them? It shouldn't feel... c-comforting, should it?...

...'Sweetheart'...

Villain just looked down at Hero, their cocky expression switched to mild confusion. They certainly didn't react like they were in much pain... Hero's face wasn't that red before, was it?

"Hm. Losing focus agai-"

Hero shook their head 'no' almost instantly, cutting Villain off in mild surprise. They were definitely paying attention, alright, but...

Villain slightly cocked their head at Hero, thinking for a moment. The pause was only a second or two, though. They were quick to get back to teasing, assuming they were simply overthinking a weird reaction.

"Hmmm~" they muttered, crouching down to get level with their defeated rival, keeping that same smug, satisfied look.

"See? I could've taken you out like that aaany time I wanted~"

Hero looked off to the side, as if trying to hide from the other's gaze- Villain's confidence only grew seeing the embarrassment they wanted out of Hero.

At least, what they saw as embarrassment. While that certainly was an aspect of it... it wasn't why Hero's attention diverted like that. Their thoughts weren't the feelings of humiliation and defeat Villain assumed.

An entirely different focus was on their mind.

A thought?

A worry?

A feeling, or the lack of one?

It could be any of them. It could depend on the circumstance. It could technically fall under every one of them, with the right logic.

Hero didn't know nor care.

All they knew is what it felt like right now.

It's a fear.

A fear of this. This emotion.

The first time in memory they've felt so... acknowledged, so strangely comfy- the only time they could have this feeling was when their nemesis was using it to taunt them. The only thing they were ever really seen or known for is their protection of the city. The Agency was obviously impersonal and corporate, other Heroes saw them as an antisocial business partner, the citizens of course only liked them for the protection, and they had nobody else outside of that despite their years of previous efforts.

The only value others saw in them was the tangible benefit they provided. The only value they saw in themself was just that. They so, so badly wanted this feeling of comfort, but they so, so deeply believed they didn't deserve it.

Believed the only way they could ever be worth loving is when it was a punishment like this.

All Villain saw was Hero looking off to the side. Zoning out again? They mumbled something to themself, leaning down just a little more.

Hero didn't always used to do that. It had them worried, honestly. It only began somewhat recently, but it was absolutely constant.

Villain felt bad. Yeah, their public motive was always money or power or whatever evil plot they had for the week would accomplish, and while those certainty were good benefits, they weren't the reason they did it.

They did it for Hero.

They weren't joking when they said they were messing with them for fun earlier. It started as just a want to fight, but the second they came across Hero, they couldn't keep themself away. At first it was simply their fighting style being fun, as Villain justified it to themself. Then the wit in their banter was more entertaining than others. Then they provided the biggest challenge. Then... well, Villain couldn't deny a sense of warmth when they were around Hero.

They had so much personality, so much energy, but as time passed it felt like they got less so. Villain was almost scared to watch it. Not because it was more fun to fight them, but rather... well, they had to admit to themself they just didn't want to see Hero so thoroughly unhappy. So sapped of life.

Villain took one hand and gently swooped it under Hero's chin, turning their head back to face them and lifting their chin a little. Hero flinched a little, but didn't pull back.

"Hey. Pay attention, sweetie."

Hero's breathing got slightly quicker. Shallower. Starting off subtle, it ramped up.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, hOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT.

The feeling of Villain's hand was the best thing they'd ever felt. In their life. They didn't know anything could be this soft, any temperature could be this comforting and warm, that any grip could be so firm yet gentle, that any gaze could be so powerful yet soft- they were completely hyperventilating, tears welling in their eyes. They didn't want to trust it, but they wanted the comfort too badly to treat this rationally. They'd never felt anything so unbelievably wonderful. They wanted it so, so bad.

Villain couldn't stop themself from gasping. They certainly weren't expecting that reaction, but seeing Hero just break down like that, they were absolutely overcome with the heat of the moment need to just... protect them. Comfort them.

Only a moment later, the two simultaneously fell into an impulsive hug.

Villain squeezed Hero tightly against them as Hero buried their face in Villain's shoulder. Hero completely stopped thinking about their doubts- only one thing mattered right now, and that was Villain. It was so unbelievably comfy, warm, happy, soft, safe... years of built up serotonin was flooding out all at once, and it only got better as Villain brought one hand up from the hug to run it through Hero's hair.

They'd never been this much of an absolute mess. They'd never been this happy in their life.

Villain just continued holding Hero tight.

Minutes passed. Neither wanted the moment to end.

But finally, after what felt like years, Hero's breathing finally began to get deeper again. Villain let out a relived sigh, though didn't quite let go yet, allowing Hero's tears to dry and breathing to fully steady. Villain stayed patient as Hero got calmer and calmer until their desperate squeeze against Villain finally relaxed.

Hero felt the safest they ever had, and Villain couldn't be happier. The idea that they were rivals didn't even cross either of their minds- it just felt so right.

"...How're you feeling?"

Hero answered in a quiet, vulnerable, satisfied whisper, more emotion in their voice than Villain had ever heard.

"...n-needed this."

For the first time in ages, an entirely new focus was on Hero's mind.

A thought?

A worry?

A feeling?

They were certainly leaning towards it being a feeling.

That feeling was love.

[familyvideostevie]

october eighteenth

day eighteen: james potter somehow, you end up in the flat of the guy across the street who walks around naked in front of the window all the time | 18+, mdni, a bit of accidental voyeurism?, some exhibitionism, smut, fem!reader | 4k detailed content warnings: fem!reader, hooking up w a stranger, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, a little rough but not really

Having a bicycle is convenient and also annoying as fuck. It gets you where you need to go but you don’t really have room for it in in your flat, so you chain it up outside with the other bikes on the block. When the weather is going to be bad you lug it indoors and keep it in the hall so it won’t rust too badly.

And apparantly it’s going to storm tonight, which you remind yourself over and over throughout the day. But even still, you manage to forget about the bike until you hear the rumble of thunder after work. You run down your steps in hastily shoved-on sneakers and no coat, spilling onto the sidewalk and making a beeline for the rack, lock key in hand. The October sky is a dark, menacing color, the sun practically gone, and you hurry to twist open the lock and tug your bike free and —

It won’t budge.

“What the fuck?” you mutter. You tug a few more times but it doesn’t slide out. It looks like there’s a chord wrapped around the body of it and…the bike next to it is chained to it. The idiot who locked up their bike locked yours, too. “Are you fucking serious?” you say to the empty street.

You really should just go inside. But you don’t want to leave it out here and ruin the seat and now you’re pissed. So you wait. You hope whoever owns this stupid bike will come down the lane and you can yell at them and go inside, but the wind just blows and you shiver without your coat and maybe no one is coming.

Thunder booms again and you’re about to give up when the door to the building directly across from yours flies open and out walks —

Oh fuck. It’s your naked neighbor.

Here’s the thing. Your street really isn’t that wide and it’s all walk-up townhomes split into flats. And yours is on the second floor and has a gorgeous window that looks out onto the street and the entire time you’ve lived there, the guy in the second floor flat on the other side of the lane has never gotten curtains. He has an equally large window and he walks around naked all the time.

You’ve seen him many times and you bet the entire neighborhood has, too. He’s gorgeous, tall and lean with glasses constantly perched on his nose even when he’s not wearing anything else. The dark, messy hair on his head is…pretty much the same as what he’s got down below. You don’t mean to look, you really don’t, but the man fucking walks around his living room with no pants on most evenings when you’re watching TV. He’s practically in your direct line of sight.

And now he’s walking towards you. Fully clothed. Not in a hurry, either.

You’re a big girl. You can do this. He probably has no idea who you are. “Oi!” you yell. “Is this yours?”

He picks up the pace when he sees you pointing to the bike. “Yeah?”

“You locked it to mine!”

He looks a bit surprised. “Oh,” he says. “Did I really? Sorry, that’s incredibly dumb of me.” He does sound genuinely apologetic.

“Yeah, it is,” you say. You’re cold and it’s going to start raining any second. You try to maintain your composure as you finally see him up close. He’s got a nice voice, which is annoying, and lovely eyes. He’s so handsome up close you have to swallow a laugh when you realize you’ve already seen his cock. This is absurd.

“Uh, let me free you, then.” He undoes the lock and you tug your bike free just as the first raindrops fall.

You turn around and head back to the door to your building without another glance at naked neighbor. “Thanks, bye!” you call.

But then you get to the door of your building and reach in your pocket and…you don’t have your keys. Well, you have the one to your flat, but not to the front fucking door. You’ve got your phone and maybe you can call your downstairs neighbor? Wait, no, she works night shifts and she’s already left. Are you seriously stuck out here in the rain? The very thing you were avoiding with this whole venture?

“Fuck!” you yell. This whole thing is so fucking stupid.

“You okay?” You whip around to see naked neighbor unmoved from the bike rack. His shoulders show the drops of rain.

“I left my keys inside,” you say. “Automatic lock.” The reasoning betrays the fact that you live alone, no flatmate or boyfriend, or anything.

He winces in sympathy. The rain picks up. Fuck, it’s cold.

“Fuck, indeed,” he says. He looks back at his door and then at you. “Look, I promise I’m not a murderer or anything, I’ve lived here for three years and you can call one of my mates to verify, but do you want to come to mine? Just until the rain stops or you can get ahold of someone to let you in?”

You know he’s not a murderer because you would have have seen evidence of it by now. You’ve seen the mates he says you can call, two tall boys and sometimes some girls, as they come over to play video games or for drinks. You think he plays some kind of sport with them because he showers most nights when he gets home and then walks around naked.

God, now you’re sounding like a serial killer.

“Fuck it,” you mutter. “Sure!” He looks a bit surprised but jerks his head at his door and you both haul your bikes as fast as you can into his building.

The entryway is a narrow hall with a staircase up. “You can leave it down here,” he says, resting his bike against the wall. “Horace is on holiday so we can block the path.”

He leads you up the stairs. “I’m James, by the way,” he offers. Finally, a name to the…body. “Like I said, I’ve lived here for a few years.”

“Me too,” you say. You tell him your name. You try not to stare at his ass too much.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “Sorry about the bike, honestly. And the rain.”

Your agitation is simmering but you’re cold and wet and your bike is wet anyway after all that and you wish you were in your own flat so you could have dinner and watch it rain but you’re here. And this stupid handsome man — James — looks just as good with clothes on as he does naked and you can’t stop thinking about how he walks around with his dick out all the time and you can never tell him you’ve seen.

“Who chains their bike to someone else’s?” you say once you reach the landing. Both of you are dripping a bit.

James laughs. God, even his laugh is nice. Some people really have it all, don’t they? “I wasn’t paying attention, I guess.”

Idiot.

He unlocks his door and you drip your way through it and see the big window immedietly. Not a curtain or blind in sight.

“Let me get you a towel, neighbor.”

He toes off his shoes so you do the same as he pads down the hall to some room. You look around. Posters, photos, not much decor. He for sure doesn’t have a girlfriend, based on this flat.

James returns with a large towel which you take and sling around yourself, wringing your hair out as best you can. You shiver. He puts the kettle on, a towel draped across his shoulders. “How do you take your tea?”

You tell him as you wander closer to the window. You can see your flat pretty much perfectly. Your couch, your TV, your kitchen. You left the light on. You wonder if you’ve ever walked around naked in your flat. No, but almost certainly in a towel. Does James recognize you? Has he ever looked?

You shiver again, but it has nothing to do with the rain. You wish you could get out of these wet clothes. Wait, what? No, you’re in a stranger’s apartment. Your clothes stay on.

“Blimey,” James mutters. You turn and find him watching you. “Nasty out there.” Oh, he’s watching the rain. Obviously. Why would he be looking at you?

“Yep.”

“You can stay as long as you need, but what’s your plan to get back in?”

You sigh. Standing in the middle of his living room feels awkward so you sit on one of his barstools, instead. “I don’t know,” you admit. “The girl downstairs works nights, so I can’t call her. I could call the building guy but he’s a bit…strange.”

James perks up. He’s got incredibly long lashes. “Is it that old dude? With long hair and scary teeth?” He makes a face and brings his hands to his mouth like pincers.

You laugh. “Yes, that’s him.”

“He does this building, too. Nasty bloke.”

“He is! One time he told me that my sink kept leaking because I used it too much and that I should wash my dishes less.”

James laughs again. He seems like a guy who laughs a lot. “Classic.” He slides you your tea and you wrap your hands around it for warmth.

“Which unit is yours?” he asks lightly.

“Um,” you say. “It’s just across from you. The one with the light on? That’s me.” He looks over your shoulder and his face does something funny before he looks back at you.

“Hm,” he says. “Nice place.” He rubs the back of his neck. You do not look at how his arm flexes. “Just by chance, what’s your wifi network?”

You sit up straighter and tell him. Weird question, but okay.

He winces. “Right, so it’s yours I’ve been using for a month since mine went out.”

“You what?”

James rubs his eyes. “I keep forgetting to call to have it fixed!”

The agitation you felt when you realized your bike was tied to his returns. “You’re the reason why I can’t bloody watch anything! The signal keeps getting interrupted!”

“You should put a password on it,” he mutters.

“And you should put up some fucking curtains instead of flashing the whole neighborhood!” It’s out before you realize what you’ve said. James’s eyes go wide and you snap your mouth shut. Fuck.

He blinks behind his glasses. “I guess I do walk around, uh, unclothed a lot.”

“Yes,” you hiss. You take a too-big sip of your tea and start coughing. Why does your entire body feel hot? You were shivering just a second ago.

James hurries around the counter to pat you on the back. His touch makes your skin tingle and — oh, fuck. Your nipples are hard. Why didn’t you put on a fucking bra before you ran outside? This shirt is thin as fuck and wet.

“Woah,” he says. “You okay?” You catch your breath and grit out a yes. He removes his hand and his eyes travel up and down your body very quickly, though they linger on your chest. You pull the towel tighter around yourself.

“Sorry,” he says.

“For me choking on your tea?”

“No.” He rubs the back of his neck again. It seems like a nervous tell. “For the, uh, flashing.” Your eyes go to his crotch. He’s in grey sweatpants and you can…see the outline of his cock perfectly.

Oh my god, you think. This is really happening to me.

“Um, it’s fine,” you say without thinking. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh?”

“Wait, fuck, no, I —”

James takes a step back into your space. “You…don’t mind? Does that mean you’ve seen something good?” His tone has changed from the flirty banter to something deeper, something a bit more intense.

Your shirt is damp and you’re locked out of your flat for god knows how long and James is hot. So, fuck it. You deserve a little fun.

“I might have,” you say, meeting his gaze and puffing out your chest a little, pulling the towel away. His pupils dilate. “I think I need a closer look to be sure.”

He licks his lips and then walks away from you and sits on the couch, flicking off the overhead lights as he goes. It’s now dark in the flat aside from an occasional flash of lightning. You’d forgotten it was raining entirely.

Even though he started it, he looks surprised when you follow and drop to your knees in front of him.

“Here?” he says. “I was going to snog you first and then take you to my bedroom. Which has curtains.”

You palm the outline of his cock through his sweatpants and he hisses.

“Here is fine,” you say. “We can snog later. I want that closer look, first.”

“Blimey.” He runs a hand through his hair, already looking a bit wrecked. “In front of the window?”

You nod and he lifts his hips and kicks off his sweatpants. He’s got no underwear underneath. “It’s dark in here.” In truth, it kind of turns you on to imagine someone watching you two right now. Your thighs clench as you study him. His cock is thicker than you’d thought, his dark hair a riot at the base. His balls hang heavy, his tip leaking a little, well on his way to being what you’re sure is painfully hard.

You spit in your hand and wrap your palm around him, stroking him root to tip. James groans and tilts his head back. You brush your thumb over the slit at the head and scoot forward on your knees so you’re closer. Thank god he’s got a nice rug.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

You look up at him. Lightning flashes and his gaze is steady even as his breath hitches. Without answering, you run your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, tracing his most prominent vein. “Results are promising.”

Then you really go for it. You start with the tip, knowing you won’t be able to take all of him, at least not for very long. You use your tongue to trace the mushroom shape of his head, jerking the rest of him as you work. You pop off with a wet sound and run your tongue up the length of him a few times.

James’s hand winds in your hair but doesn’t tug too hard, doesn’t force you. It’s like he’s anchoring himself. You make sure to pay attention to his balls, too, sucking on them, which makes him moan loudly over the rain.

“Fuck,” he says. “God, just like that.”

Your hand strokes what you can’t fit but you want to try to take all of him at least once. He sees what you’re doing. “Are you sure? Gonna take all of me in that mouth?” You’re sure as hell going to try.

You go as far as you can and feel him hit the back of your throat. You gag a few times, struggling to breathe, before pulling off.

“Can you do that again?” he asks. His thumb presses into the corner of your mouth. “Look so pretty like that.”

This is your favorite part of blowing someone. You might be the one on your knees, doing the work, but it’s James who is at your mercy. So you do it again. Spit runs down the sides of your mouth and you feel tears in your eyes, but the sound he releases makes you feel powerful.

His hips jerk, which takes you by surprise, and you move back with a pop. “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” he says. He wipes the corners of your eyes with his thumbs.

“It’s okay,” you say, voice rough. You could blow him for ages just for the look on his face. You expected him to be a bit more vocal, a bit more aggressive, but maybe he’s holding back.

“This is nice,” he says. He brushes hair from your face. “You sucking my cock, and all.” It’s a filthy thing to say but he sounds genuine as he says it. “And you look gorgeous doing it.” His words go straight between your legs. “But I really want to fuck you. Can I fuck you?”

You nod. “Yes,” you say. “Yes, yes, please.” James stands, his cock fully at attention and slick with your spit. He pulls you up, too, holding you close enough that you feel him hot and hard against your stomach. His hands frame your face and then he’s kissing you, not at all sweetly, but dirty and messy right away. It’s all teeth and tongue and spit as he licks into your mouth. You moan into it and he walks you backwards. You grip his elbows for balance but trust that he’ll get you where you need to go.

He doesn’t stop until the backs of your knees hit a bed and you fall backwards with an oof.

James is already tugging off his shirt and then he’s entirely naked. As beautiful, maybe even more so than you remember from seeing him through the window. The light on in the bedroom means you can see him even better, the definition of his muscles, the dark of his hair. You flop back on the bed and take a breath. From this angle you can see his window — and sure enough, he’s got curtains that cover it.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he growls. You sit up and pull off your shirt and he genuinely sighs when he sees your breasts. You lift your hips to get off your pants and underwear and he lunges into action to help you, tugging them off your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor. You shuffle back on the bed and he settles on top of you, bracing himself with one arm as he leans down to kiss you again.

This kiss is slower, deeper than before. He takes his time with you and you let him. Your skin on his feels incredible, warm and welcome but your arousal is throbbing between your legs. He hasn’t touched you yet.

“James,” you pant. “James.”

His lips trail down your neck, nibbling as he goes, one thumb circling your nipple.

“Hmm?”

“I need—”

“Ah,” he says, pulling up. His eyes are entirely dark now, glasses askew. “Poor girl,” he coos. “I’ve left you wanting, haven’t I?”

Now this is more how you expected him to behave. You nod a bit too eagerly.

He keeps his face over yours so he can watch your reaction but he drags one hand down your body, caressing everything as he goes until he reaches your inner thigh.

“If I knew you were watching me,” he rasps, fingers ghosting over your cunt. You squirm, bucking your hips. “I’d have put on a show.”

“I wasn’t — oh — watching,” you protest. He drags his fingers through your folds and presses his thumb to your clit.

“Sure,” he purrs. “You can from now on, if you like.” He drags his tongue up your neck. “Watch me and know I’m thinking of this.” He circles your clit and your legs fall open even more. “This sweet, wet cunt. God, love, you’re soaked.”

You are. James sounds pleased with himself.

“Don’t tease,” you grind out.

“Me? Tease?” Without warning he pushes two fingers into you, which stretches you deliciously but it’s not enough.

“James,” you whine.

“What, baby?” He sounds ragged even though you’re the one getting finger fucked.

“Less foreplay, more fucking.”

His eyebrows touch his sweaty hairline. “You sure?” he says. He pulls his fingers away and grabs your hip. “I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but —”

“I can take it,” you assure him. You feel a bit touched that he wants to make sure you’re ready, that he can go from dirty talk to concern in a second.

He holds your gaze for a second. “Okay,” he says, finally. He moves off of you to open his nightstand drawer. You take some deep breaths. You’re so turned on you might combust. James finds a condom and puts it on as you watch. He settles back between your legs, spreading them a little more. And then he just looks.

“James, what are you doing?” Your entire body feels hot, feverish almost. You need him to fuck you, now.

He’s smirking. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “You’ve just got such a pretty cunt.”

He’s might not be a murderer but you think he might kill you just the same. He lines himself up, leaning over you again so close your chests brush.

“Is this okay?” he asks. The position is a but more intimate than you’d expected for a hook up. You thought he’d fuck you from behind over the kitchen counter, or something, but you’re a little too desperate to care at this point.

“Yes,” you hiss, canting your hips. And just like that, he’s back to smirking. He runs his cock through your folds a few times and then presses into you, eyes on your face to watch for any wince. But he needn’t worry — you were right about being able to take it. The stretch is delicious as he keeps going, every inch of him pressing into your walls until he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, baby.”

He lets you settle for a few moments. You press your knees into his hips. “Move, James,” you gasp. “Move.”

James slides out halfway before thrusting back in. His pace becomes steady but it’s not enough.

“Harder, James, I—”

The rain is background noise, the thunder barely registering over the smack of your flesh and your combined panting.

“Harder?” He snaps his hips and you groan. “If you say so.”

And then he pulls out. You whine, coming up to your elbows to see where he’s gone but he’s off the bed entirely, standing at the edge. He tugs you to the edge by your hips, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it up into the air onto his shoulder. He presses your other knee towards your chest and then his cock is back inside you and he’s absolutely pounding into you.

The angle is delicious and all you can say is a series of broken yeses.

“Yes, yes, yes, James, oh my god, yes—”

“Better?” he pants.

You can barely reply. “Oh god,” you gasp.

“God, you feel so good—”

He’s hitting the right spot every time, the curve of his cock dragging as he thrusts, his balls smacking against you.

James looks gorgeous like this. He’s glowing, hair sweaty and chest glistening, his muscles rippling from effort, his glasses…on?

“I’m blind as fuck, love,” he says, grunting your name, “and I want to see you come on my cock.”

You didn’t realize you said it out loud. You fist the sheets with one hand and circle your clit messily with the other.

“James, I’m—”

“Me too,” he pants. “Me too. God, you’re so tight, you feel so good—”

“James, James, James—”

He’s everywhere. Inside you, hands on your legs, his name in your mouth. You reach for him and manage to circle his wrist with one hand. He picks up the pace somehow and you snap, back arching off the bed and cunt spasming around him. Your mouth is opened in a silent scream as the waves of pleasure run through you, your nails digging into his skin as you hold on for dear life.

James’s thrusts get sloppy and he pounds into you once, twice, three times, and then shudders, your name a broken moan from his throat. He releases your legs and bends at the waist, hands on either side of your head. His cock is still inside of you as he kisses you sweetly and sloppy.

You wrap your legs around his waist and catch your breath.

“Nice work, neighbor,” he says against your cheek.

Laughter bubbles out of you. “We should do this more often.” You clench around him because you can and he hisses.

“Give a guy a few minutes to recover, love,” he chuckles. “Then I’m all yours.”

Maybe it’s alright if you don’t get back into your flat until the morning.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[nico-the-newt]

Enemies to Lovers - Ellie Williams x reader

summary: you and Ellie had hated each other the moment you stepped foot in Jackson. Others disagree.

warnings: swearing, Ellie's a bit of a dick, mentions guns

You could honestly say that you had no idea how it happened. One moment you were scanning through the old, abandoned supermarket with Jesse for supplies, laughing at something stupid he had said. And suddenly, in an instance, you found yourself being ambushed by a hoard of runners.

Patrol had started off as it usually did when you were grouped with Dina, Jesse and Ellie. The four of you were walking down the old, dirt road to the abandoned supermarket that Maria had assigned you to patrol. As usual, Jesse and Dina were being coupley and affectionate - arms wrapped around each other, hands linked, noses bumping, as you and Ellie grumpily walked beside them, shooting each other looks and making snide remarks. The pair of you had had a strained relationship since your arrival in Jackson two years before. You thought she was rude and cocky. She thought you were obnoxious and demanding. In fact, the pair of you despised each other so much you weren’t even aware that you were very similar - personality-wise.

You still cursed Jesse for forcing you on patrol with Ellie. He and Dina had some sort of weird idea that you and Ellie secretly liked each other, enemies to lovers, as Dina put it. You had laughed in their faces.

“Not if she was the last person in the world,” you had scoffed, but that did not change their minds in the slightest.

When you finally arrived at the old building, you were extremely tired and grumpy. Ellie had spent the first ten minutes of the walk complaining about how late you had been that morning (she had arrived twenty minutes early to patrol just to give you a hard time), which sparked an argument that lasted for the rest of the trip. You could tell Dina and Jesse were completely  over the pair of you and it secretly made you pleased to prove them wrong.

“Jeez, look at this place,” Ellie sighed in admiration when you entered the supermarket. You couldn’t deny that you shared her admiration. There was something so beautiful about the place being covered in vines and sunlight streaming in through a big hole in the roof, lighting up the entire store. You wouldn’t let that be known though.

“‘Jeez, look at this place’” you imitated in an annoying voice that sounded nothing like Ellie.

“Hey, what’s your fucking problem, man!” Ellie exclaimed, storming towards you.

“You are-!”

“Okay!” Dina called, coming between you and Ellie before the shoving and arguing began again. “This place is pretty big - why don’t we pair up and split off. Ellie and I’ll look on this side, you guys look on that side.”

Ellie shot a scowl at you, which you gladly returned, but you followed Dina’s orders nonetheless and trailed off after Jesse.

“You and Ellie need to chill,” he said, after a period of companionable silence.

“Ellie needs to stop being an asshole,” you grumbled, causing Jesse to let out a laugh.

“You’re just as much of an asshole as she is,” he chuckled, shaking his head  in amusement and slipping a bottle of disinfectant he had found into his bag.

“No one is as big of an asshole as Ellie is,” you said pointedly. “Except maybe you~”

“Oof, low blow,” Jesse grinned, placing a hand over his chest in mocked hurt. “However will I get over that one?"

“Please, you’ll get over it,” you had laughed, finally starting to feel at ease for the first time that day. Unfortunately, the feeling had left as soon as it came due to a loud crash coming from the loading dock behind you.

“The fuck was that?” You muttered, instantly grabbing your gun and pointing it in the direction of the loading dock.

“Dunno,” Jesse hissed, drawing his gun too. When there was no other noise after a few minutes, you both slowly started edging your way towards where the original sound had come from. You practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. A cold bead of sweat dripped down the back of your neck and you almost found yourself holding your breath. However, the anticipation was all for nothing, as when you had poked your head around the corner, there was nothing there but old, dusty boxes and a rusty hand truck.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, a frown crossing your brow. “Weird.”

You stepped back towards Jesse, unaware of the runner that had been coming up behind you until its hands were grasping your shoulders and it was trying to bite your neck off. You didn’t even have enough time to be scared as several gunshots went off and caused our ears to ring like crazy and your vision to fog over.

“Come on!”

Jesse grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the area and back into reality. It was only when you could hear again and actually heard the screams and groans, along with the sound of rabid footsteps behind you, that you finally found control of your legs once more and began to run. Jesse and you crashed through a door and into a small office at the back of the store. Jesse pressed his body up against the door and you quickly copied, as there was nothing to barricade the door with. This is how I die. We’re gonna die. You couldn’t stop these morbid thoughts from bouncing around in your brain as you used all your body weight and strength to push against the door, despite the fact that the strength of the infected easily overpowered you and the door had begun to come off its hinges. You were certain they were about to break the door down completely, and was preparing for the worst, when you suddenly heard a series of gunshots outside, followed by some grunt and yells, and finally, silence. The pressure you had been fighting off against the door had stopped, though you and Jesse remained pressed against it for a few minutes - neither of you sure if it was actually safe. It was only when you heard Dina anxiously yell for the both of you that you realised it was over and cautiously moved back from the door - just in time for her to practically kick the door down and throw herself at Jesse when she realised you were both still alive. You closed your eyes and leaned back against the desk to catch your breath, completely oblivious to Ellie’s presence looming towards you at speed. It was only when she practically shoved you over and cupped your face to see you for herself that your eyes flew open and you stared at her, confused but not disliking the feeling of her hands on your face.

“You fucking idiot!” She exclaimed, letting go of your face and wrapping you in a hug. You were surprised at the contact but didn’t care and hugged her back, simply grateful to be alive and not bitten. And that Ellie was hugging you

“It’s okay. It’s over,” you sighed, rubbing her back comfortingly and raising your middle finger towards Jesse and Dina when you saw them smirking at the pair of you.

“Enemies to lovers,” Dina mouthed with a smug smile.

Part 2 can be found here:

[k-nayee]

Dusk Till Dawn JJK

wc: 2.5k a/n: Song Inspiration: Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

Your chest heaved as you sprinted alongside Yuji, the chaos of Shibuya shaking the building around you.

The sound of curses and distant screams was muted, the only thing driving you forward being the desperate pounding of your heart.

Every step you took was filled with the nauseating fear of being too late.

And then you saw it.

Nanami.

Your heart stopped, dread freezing your veins.

There just a few feet ahead, you spotted him—his tall figure slumped, his once-immaculate suit burned and tattered.

Mahito's grotesque hand rested against his back, and in that instant, the world around you seemed to fall away.

The battle—the roars of curses, shouts of sorcerers, crashing debris—all of it became drowned out by the thundering pulse in your ears.

“Kento!” you screamed, voice cracking with desperation as your body surged forward.

But it was too far. You were too far.

His gaze shifted from Yuji, and for a fraction of a second, his weary eyes found yours.

Time slowed.

No—it wasn't just your imagination. Your cursed technique activated, a reaction so instinctive and desperate, that you barely registered it happening.

The world around you stilled even more as if caught in a slow-motion reel.

It was your family’s technique, passed down through generations: Temporal Shift; allowing you to manipulate time enough to switch places with someone in the midst of an attack—taking their place, absorbing the blow.

You could feel the familiar tug of your cursed energy rippling through your veins, gathering strength as it coiled, ready to launch you forward.

You could save him. You could—

Tears welled in your eyes. You couldn’t breathe, the weight of the moment crashing down on you.

Even shaken your resolve remained steadfast, though you weren’t sure if it was from determination or the sheer hopelessness of the situation.

Nanami's eyes widened in horror, the shock clear on his face as the cursed energy around him seemed to flicker.

He knew what you were about to do. But there was no time to protest.

No time for words.

Your lips pulled into a trembling, broken smile. There was no need for goodbyes. This was your choice.

You had always been willing to protect him—no matter the cost.

And so, with a soft breath, you whispered the word that sealed your fate.

“Switch.”

Chin up and shoulders squared, you saunter toward Nanami and Haibara’s table.

“Oh Nanami-kun~” you call his name, and for a split second you thought you saw him tense. 

You put on your best shy expression, shifting your weight from foot to foot and batting your lashes.

He looks up with a blank expression blank.

“I was wondering if you’d um...help me study for the upcoming test?” you ask, your voice softer than usual, practically dripping with sweetness.

Nanami blinked at you, clearly not expecting the request. But before he could answer you heard a loud whisper from behind you.

“Why is she acting like this?!” Gojo practically hissed, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “She never asks us for help like that!”

“Yeah, she’s never this cute when she’s begging us for anything,” Geto chimed in,  voice equally obnoxious.

Your eye twitched, fists balling up at your sides.

“You two are ruining my chance!” spinning around, you land two solid punches on both of their heads with a satisfying thud.

“Ow!” Gojo whined, rubbing the side of his head with an exaggerated pout. “What was that for?!”

“We were just trying to help,” Geto added, wincing slightly as his grin remained in place.

You glared at them both. “You two never get this treatment because you don’t deserve it!” you snapped before turning back to Nanami.

Clearing your throat you give your most charming smile. “So would you help me? Please?”

He blinked at you, expression still impassive. “No.”

“Well that was disappointing.” You sigh deeply as your shoulders slump in defeat. Quickly shrugging it off with a playful pout, you wave a hand at Gojo and Geto. “Let’s go losers.”

Gojo raised a finger ready to protest. "Actually we wanted to stay—"

You didn’t let him finish.

With a swift move you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out of his seat, ignoring his indignant squawks of protest as you choked him slightly in the process. “Nope. You’re coming with me.”

Geto quickly raised his hands in surrender and followed after you with a laugh smile. “No complaints from me, I’m good.”

You pause at the door, glancing back at Nanami one last time. “I’ll try again when you’re in a better mood Nanami~”

You flash him a weak smile before looking over at Haibara, who had been silently observing the whole ordeal. “Oh, and hey Haibara! Sorry I didn’t say hi earlier.”

Haibara just smiled, waving your apology away with a casual gesture. “Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your budding relationship anyway.”

Both you and Nanami froze.

Heat rushed to your face as Nanami’s head snapped toward Haibara. “What are you—”

“Wait—really?!” You practically shouted, heart leaping in your chest as you stepped forward. “He talks about me?!”

Haibara, realizing his mistake, stammered nervously under Nanami’s murderous gaze. “Uh I mean—well—n-not exactly! I might have been mistaken! Haha, I don’t know what I’m talking about...”

But it was too late. The damage had been done. You were already too far gone, completely starry-eyed and grinning from ear to ear.

Practically floating on air, you offer a faint farewell as you continue to drag Gojo, still ignoring his pleas for mercy as he weakly flail to escape your grip.

“Now why do you let her do that?” Geto mused with a raised eyebrow as the Limitless Curse user struggled in vain. “You could just turn on Infinity.”

“Because she’d just hit me harder,” Gojo whined as you tugged him through the door.

You paid them no mind, your thoughts too consumed with Haibara’s words.

Nanami talked about you. Even if it was just a small passing comment, it was enough to keep your heart racing for the rest of the day.

You were so going to try again later.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The mission had seemed simple at first—just another exorcism in a quiet town far removed from the chaos of Tokyo.

It had been long and tiring, but it seems the curse that had been terrorizing the area was finally dealt with. 

You, Nanami, and Haibara stood amidst the rubble of what had once been a bustling street.

Now all that remained was to clean up. Though your mind was already on other things.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, chatting with Gojo about the snack run you two had planned after the mission. “No no trust me, Gojo. They have the best dorayaki in the area. You just need to—”

“Focus,” Nanami’s stern voice cut through your conversation. He gave you a withering glance, his usual look of disapproval that came whenever you let your guard down.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh come on Nami-kun. We already took care of the curse. Why so serious?”

He didn’t answer but his brow furrowed, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting.

Typical Nanami—always so on edge, never allowing himself even a moment of ease.

You give him a playful glance, but before you could say anything else something flickered in your peripheral vision.

Your face contorted in a flash of confusion, then fear. Your instincts screamed and a cold sweat broke across your skin.

Haibara noticed the shift in your expression first. “Hey what’s—”

You didn’t even have time to finish your sentence before the Grade 1 curse ambushed.

It came out of nowhere, its grotesque form twisting in the shadows, lunging at Haibara with deadly intent.

His brown eyes widened in shock, too slow to react as the curse’s blow landed upside his head with a sickening slash, knocking him down with a thud.

“Haibara!” Nanami yelled in panic.

Your heart lurched as you saw the curse’s next attack winding up, its malevolent energy aimed straight at the fallen sorcerer.

There wasn’t time to think—only time to act.

"Switch!" you shouted, your cursed technique roaring to life.

In an instant you felt the familiar pull of energy shift between you and Haibara.

The world seemed to blur for a heartbeat, and then the curse’s attack struck you instead.

The force of the blow hit your side, white-hot pain searing through your body as you absorbed the impact.

You collapsed, the wind knocked out of you, but at least Haibara was out of danger.

"Dammit!" Nanami’s curse technique activated in a flash, slicing clean through the air as he moved to exorcise the curse.

His strikes were shar and precise, fueled by barely restrained fury as he tore into the creature.

Haibara, regaining his balance, joined him, and together they finished off the curse.

You lay on the ground, clutching your side where blood oozed from the gash.

“Are you okay?!” Haibara rushed over to you, his voice trembling with panic.

His face was pale and you could see the terror in his brown eyes—terror that, if it weren’t for your intervention, he would have been the one lying in your place.

Nanami appeared at your other side, his face set in a hard line, though his hands shook slightly as he reached out to check your wound.

“I’m fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, wincing as they tried to help you up.

“Fine?” Nanami’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made you falter. “You call this fine?”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Back in the infirmary, the antiseptic smell hung in the air as Shoko patched you up before leaving to tend others.

You were sore but relatively lucky—your cursed technique had softened the blow, though the pain still pulsed dully through your body.

Haibara sat at a chair nearby, his face still pale as he absentmindedly touched the new scar that ran along his jawline.

Nanami remained standing with an unreadable expression.

Gojo and Geto had stopped by to check on you earlier, their usual banter lightening the mood as Gojo teased you about how reckless you always were.

“What luck you have,” he’d said grinning, “being able to switch places like that. Almost unfair.”

They’d left soon after, leaving just you, Nanami, and Haibara.

Suddenly He spoke, voice soft and shaky. “Today was...a wake-up call.”

You look up in confusion. “Haibara?”

He glanced between you and Nanami, his lips pressing into a tight line before he exhaled deeply.

“If ____ hadn’t been there, I would’ve...” His voice cracked and he swallowed. “I’m stepping away from the Jujutsu world.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. Haibara was always the cheerful one, the one who saw the good in things.

For him to step away...it was serious.

 Haibara stood slowly, walking over to your bedside with his head low.

When he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours his eyes were filled with unshed tears.

He give a deep bow, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you...for saving me. I owe you my life.”

You wave off his gratitude, trying to play it cool despite the lump forming in your throat. “You don’t owe me anything. Just...don’t forget about us okay?”

Haibara’s expression softened, and to your surprise, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The gesture was affectionate, almost like a farewell. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Nanami may seem cold... but he’s a softy. Talks about you a lot.”

You blink in shock as heat rushed to your face. Haibara gave you a pointed look, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You tried to hold back a grin but it was impossible.

Chuckling softly, he turns to Nanami, offering a firm handshake and a brief hug.

With one last nod Haibara left, leaving you and Nanami in the quiet of the infirmary.

For a long moment neither you nor Nanami said a word. The silence between you was heavy.

You absentmindedly pick at the blanket on your lap, trying to think of something—anything, to break the tension.

“So...” You forced a weird smile. “Nice weather we’ve been having this week huh?”

Nanami’s eyes darkened. 

"How could you be so...so irresponsible?" His voice was low, trembling with barely-contained anger.

Your smile faltered. "Wait...what?"

Nanami’s fists clenched at his sides as he took a step closer, his brows furrowed.

"You weren’t even supposed to be on that mission in the first place. You—" His voice strained as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "You put yourself in danger. You could have—"

You sat up, your frown deepening. "It was a good thing I was there. Everything turned out fine didn’t it? Plus if I hadn’t bee—”

“What if you died?!” He cut you off, his frustration boiling over as he stared at you with wide teary eyes.

You fell silent, mouth half-open, the words dying in your throat.

“What if you didn’t make it in time? What if Haibara died? Or you?” His usually neat hair was disheveled as if he was barely holding it together.

Nanami took a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as he continued. “I—I wouldn’t have been able to...”

The room seemed to still, his words hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest.

You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t realized just how deeply it had affected him.

Without thinking you reach out and grab his hand, your fingers intertwining with his.

He look at you in shock, his wide hazel eyes filled with vulnerability.

Before he could say anything your other hand gently cradle his face as you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away, his face was a deep shade of red, his lips trembling in disbelief.

“Stop worrying so much Nami-kun,” you offer him a gentle smile and tilt your head playfully. “You’ll never be alone. I’m right here babes.”

With a wink, you lift his hand and wrap your pinky around his. "From dusk till dawn yeah?"

Nanami’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you.

Slowly, his hand tightened around yours, eyes softening as the tension began to melt away.

"Yeah," he whispered. "From dusk till dawn."

One second you were standing several feet away, your feet skidding on the rubble-strewn ground, and the next—

You were there.

In his place.

Mahito's hand was now on you, the twisted grin on the curse's face shifting as he blinked in mild surprise.

The sickening energy from his Idle Transfiguration seeped into your skin, and in that split second, you felt the inevitability of it all.

But you didn’t look at Mahito.

Nanami stood frozen just a few feet away, his eyes wide with disbelief. The realization hit him like a punch:

No your eyes were still on Nanami, who stood frozen where you had been just moments before.

Burns of his half-obliterated body was nothing compared to the raw horror that filled his chest now.

The world was moving again—too fast, too harsh—and yet you held on to this fleeting moment to simply smile.

For him, you’d smile one last time.

And then—pain.

“Well...that was the wrong person,” Mahito mused, his grin widening. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mock innocence. “Oops. Oh well.”

[peachesofteal]

Picture

Same pairing as "I got you". When I first wrote these, I also wrote a hefty chunk of an entire Simon Riley series that just ended up sitting in my drafts. I've been editing it slowly and now it's being uploaded.

Simon Riley/female reader Part of the Sassy series - 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnancy, pregnant reader, blow job, praise kink, blood, violence, injury, PTSD, anxiety, trust issues. Simon is bad at feelings. Soap is a good friend. POV switches. Soap gives Simon a picture.

There’s a gun in your nightstand. You don’t use it, ever. You don’t need it, haven’t needed it, haven’t touched it. You think, after the baby comes, you’ll put it away for good. Bury it in a locked box somewhere beneath a pile of boxes in the basement.

Speaking of boxes, you’re standing in a sea of them. Different boxes for different parts of the crib, dresser, and little bookshelf. The old recliner you used to have downstairs is up here now, nestled in the corner next to where you think you’re going to put the crib. It’s not a rocking chair, but it will have to do. It’s a sage green, the soft hue calming to your nerves, which you think helps the baby. Your baby, who the internet says is the size of a banana and can hear your heartbeat, who likes to kick you in your ribs at all hours of the night. You rub your palm over your belly as you shift your weight, staring down at the instructions for the wood paneling of the bookcase. You’re rotating the shiny paper in your hand, trying to understand which piece fits to which when your doorbell rings.

You frown. You weren’t expecting anyone. You didn’t really have friends, anyone who would visit.

Your mind wanders to the gun for a split second, but you shake it off. You’re home. You’re not in danger. There is nothing to fear. The mantra grounds you, solidifies you enough that you make your way down the stairs and peek through the peephole in the door.

When you see Soap’s face on the other side, you can practically feel your blood pressure drop.

“Hey, Johnny.” You say in greeting, face apprehensive. He lights up when you open the door, and then freezes like you’ve shot him.

“Sassafras.” He whispers in disbelief. You sigh, and step to the side.

“By yourself?” Soap stares at you like you’re nuts. You nod.

“Yeah… not like I could get in contact. Not like I wanted to, either.” He grimaces.

“So, he has no idea, you’re having his kid… you’re five months pregnant, and he doesn’t know.” You scoff.

“You make it sound like I’m helpless.” He looks from you to the pile of furniture pieces on the ground at your feet, and then to the screwdriver in his hand.

“You’re not helpless, lass.” He says softly, eyes sympathetic as they glance over your belly. “But this is a lot, for anyone to do alone.”

Later, you and Johnny sit on your back porch. He sips a beer; you drink a decaf iced tea. Bugs chirp in the grass of your little yard, the yellow glow of the string lights that you managed to get up twinkle above your heads.

“So, what’re you havin’?”

“It’s a boy.” You whisper, smile on your lips. You remembered when the doctor told you, remembered everything you felt when she said those three words. You were so… angry. How dare the universe give you a boy? How dare it give you the reminder, the carbon copy of a ghost.

Now, you’re not angry so much anymore. Only sometimes when you think about how he forced you away. How he ruined your rep with Price just to get rid of you. How he held you the last time, body pressed to yours, nose smashed against your cheek.

You’re not angry when you think about the baby. His son. Yours. You love him, already. You knew you loved him the day you decided you were going to keep him. He was your baby. Yours to love. To protect. You weren’t going to let the memories of his dad get in that way of that. You weren’t going to let yourself be haunted.

Johnny stays for a few days, sleeps on the couch. He helps you build the crib, and the dresser, and the bookshelf. You two spend the time catching up, reminiscing about the time you spent together, tromping halfway around the world.

“Trauma bonded.” You joke with an elbow to his stomach, on the good side. Not the side that he took the piece of shrapnel to that shredded his abdomen.

“Never thanked you that day. Saved my life.” 

“You saved mine too. We’re even.” 

When he says goodbye, you give him an ultrasound picture. You have a ton, at least six tacked to your fridge. You watch his eyes get a little misty, and you laugh.

“Come on Johnny. It’s just a picture.”

“Yeah. Of yours… and LT’s… kid.” He practically chokes on the last word, and you roll your eyes.

“Come back and see us, okay? Little guy will need an uncle.” His lips part and the he swallows before hectically nodding, sputtering promises about coming to visit as much as he can. He gives you a cell number, his, to call if you need anything or want to talk.

“Can’t imagine you’ll be available too often.” There’s no way. The 141 has a no contact rule, no communication. It’s for their safety, and everyone else’s. You both know this. He rubs his neck with a frown.

“Yah lass. But I’m still here if you need anything.” He gives you another hug before tucking the picture into a pocket and stepping off your front stoop.

If you had known what he was going to do with it, you would have never given it to him.

Simon parks two blocks away, worn print of a black blob in his hands. The edges are starting to fray, the two pieces peeling away from each other from overuse, being held too much. He’s been holding this picture in an iron grip for over a month, pulling it out from the pocket in his vest to stare at it until he forces himself to look away.

He remembers the night he got it, the night everything shifted, when the world tilted on its axis.

“LT.” Johnny had called to him that day, sought him out immediately after he got back. He didn’t want to see Johnny, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He knew where he went. He knew he had wanted to visit you; see how you were doing.

See if you were okay. After what he did.

“I need her gone.” He had told Price, voice full of conviction. You were a distraction. A liability. Sure, you had every right to be there, but he didn’t care. He had seniority and he couldn’t think clearly. Couldn’t work. You were everywhere, in his mind, on his skin. He felt like he needed you. He tried to break himself of it at first, tried to cast you out. Disappeared on you without a word, hoping you’d give up on him. But after the bombing, the one that almost killed Johnny, and almost killed you, he couldn’t do it anymore. He could still hear the buzz of the comms, the dead silence echoing back to him when he called for you, over and over. It played on repeat in his nightmares. It dredged up old memories, reopened the scars in his mind of other losses, terrible losses that he’d never escape.

“Ghost.” Johnny’s voice was sharp, urgent. Like he sounds when something’s gone wrong. “LT, stop. I needa talk to ya.” Simon turns, stomach full of dread. He can’t place the expression on Johnny’s face. It’s grim, sure. But there’s something underneath that’s gleeful, excited. It puts him on edge, and he grunts.

“What?” There’s something in Johnny’s hand, a folded piece of paper, and he thrusts it into his chest. “What’s this?” It’s a picture of a blob with some dates at the top. There’s a name too, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Your son.” 

Simon doesn’t remember a lot after that. He remembers finding a chair to slump over in, remembers staring at the ultrasound picture for a long time. Long enough that the sun went down, Johnny’s voice filtering in and out of his ears as he fought the rising panic in his chest. “- she’s doing okay but seems tired. She was trying to put the nursery together when I showed up-“  Nursery. A Nursery, like where a baby sleeps. A baby. His baby. His kid. Your kid. You were having his kid. “and she gets sick in the mornings, I could hear her throwing up from the couch but other than that she says she’s got it handled. I think-“ You were having his baby. You were making him a…. father. His mind stumbled over the word. Buried memories of his own father fought to rise to the surface, and vomit tried to crawl up his mouth. His lungs felt like they were drowning in concrete. His ears were suddenly ringing. “Ghost?” Johnny reached for his shoulder, and he pushed him away, harder than he needed to. “Whoa. Hey, LT.” 

“Johnny. Shut the hell up.” 

He spent the next month with the picture tucked close to his chest. He pulls it out at night, or when he’s sitting in the same spot for an extended period of time, waiting. He stares at the image, trying to work out if those are toes, or fingers, or a face. He wonders if you’re okay, if you’re taking care of yourself, if you need him. He stares at your name printed at the top, the name that he didn’t know, until now. The one you never wanted to give him, and he never understood why.

“You don’t show me your face.” you countered him one night after he made you come until you lost count, and he glowered in response, lips still wet with the taste of your cunt. The truth was, he wanted to show you his face. Wanted to take you away from the god-awful city the 141 was working through, hide you away somewhere safe and show you his face, let you memorize it the way he memorized yours.

He realized, with a carnivorous pit opening in his stomach, since he knew your name now, he could find you.

And if he could find you, others might be able to, too.

He parked two blocks away because he didn’t want to spook you. He didn’t think you’d take too kindly to a stranger pulling into your driveway at night, and he figured you’d take less kindly if that stranger was him. So, he walks. He walks down your street, eyes cataloging every house on the block, every car. Which houses have soccer nets and toys in the yard. What the speed limit was. When the last time the street had been paved or had its potholes patched. He listens to how many dogs are barking, how many engines are starting or already running. He distracts himself with it, the awareness, until he’s stepping up onto your stoop, hand hovering above your doorbell.

When you open the door, your mouth goes slack, and you stare at him like you’re seeing a ghost. He swallows, throat dry, words jammed behind his tongue. You look… off. Different. Sick. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, and you seem exhausted.

“Simon.” You say, voice half a whisper. He’s about to say hi, say sorry, say ‘can I come in?’ when he looks the rest of you over quickly and sees your belly for the first time. It’s swollen behind a sweatshirt that’s just a little bit too big, and he watches as your hand moves to rest on top of it protectively.

“Sass.” He croaks. You sigh.

“Want to come in?”

You’re dreaming of a memory. You know you are. You remember, this, this night, like it just happened yesterday. You’re on your knees, crowded against Ghost in a shitty dive bar bathroom. The music is thumping loudly through the walls, the floor sticking to your boots. 

“Thas’ it.” He mumbles, hand folding over your hair as you rock back and forth. Your mouth is stuffed full of him, lips stretched and cracked, drool dripping down your chin. So full, you can’t even flatten your tongue against your molars, but you think he likes the scrape by the way he groans every time he touches the back of your throat. “Bloody hell, Sass.” His fingers flexed against your scalp, and you feel the muscles is his legs tightening. He’s close, you can feel it, so you swallow him deeper until your eyes are leaking tears and he’s panting harshly. “That’s a good girl, just like that, so-“ He floods your throat with his come, salt and sweet and metallic filling your senses as it spills down into your stomach. He pulls you up to standing, pushing your back against the wall while he tucks himself back into his pants, and you’re about to tease him for being so quick off the mark when a fist pounds against the door, Soap’s voice on the other side. 

“We got a hit.” 

“Now?” you whisper, and Ghost shrugs. The 141 has been here for three weeks, tailing some small fish arms dealer, waiting for him to meet with his big fish buyer. He rights his mask, calloused fingers coming forward to adjust the collar of your shirt. 

“You keep your eyes open for me, yeah?” His touch traces along your cheek, and there’s something wild running beneath the surface of his skin, something you can just barely see. You nod quickly. 

“Yeah, Simon. I’ll keep em open.” 

The dream shifts. You’re sprinting down the street behind little fish, after he got spooked and tried to take off. He ran in your direction. You were the only option.

“Northwest!” you spit into your comms, rapidly changing direction as he does. He turns left, and then right, and then left until you’re in an outdoor market, turning in a circle as you realize you lost sight of him.

“Sassy, report.” Price calls and you swallow against your heaving breaths.

“Lost him. I’m at… don’t know. Don’t have coordinates. Some outdoor market.”

“Roger. Make your way east, we’ll scoop you.” You sigh in relief. You were a bomb tech, not a sprinter, and certainly not a stealth operator. You give another cursory glance around before turning to leave.

That’s when the shots ring out. Small pings that turn into loud screams as people run in every direction. Inwardly, you groan, and find yourself wishing you were still on the sticky bathroom floor with Simon’s cock in your mouth. Instead, you’re out here, out of breath, dodging bullets.

You duck behind a stall to pull your gun free.

“I’m taking fire.” You speak into the comms, fidgeting with your gun as you hunch over.

“Repeat.” It’s Ghost. His voice is tense, strung tight.

“Taking-“ bullets whiz by you and you pause, but keep the line open. “fire. They’re on top of one of these buildings.” It’s radio silence for a few seconds as you crawl along the stalls, low to the ground. There’s an alley a good hundred feet away, and you definitely could make it.

“Hold your position, Sass.” 

“Affirmative.” You sprint for the gap between buildings, pinning close to the wall and settling into a crouch, finger light on the trigger. You want to ask why you’re holding, but the answer comes when you hear responding fire, echo for echo against whoever’s on the roof. Price calls for you, seeking your location, and you answer quickly.

Two minutes later, Ghost is kneeling in front of you, gripping your tac vest and shoving you behind the blockade that is his body. He leads you out of the alley, steps slow and sure, confident…  until you hear a pop, and then a shout. 

The dream shifts, again. You’re standing in the med tent with your arms crossed while he’s getting a slug dug out of his shoulder, eyes tight behind the mask. He’s saying something to you, but the words are mush coming out of his mouth, slurred together and off beat. The medic gives him a nod when he leaves, and you release a breath

“I’m alright, Sass. It’s nothin’. C’mere.” A big hand finds yours. More words, jumbled nonsense. 

A doorbell rings from behind you, towards the front of the med tent and you frown. 

A doorbell. 

Your eyes open and you sit up in bed, curling over your ever-present bump that seems to get in the way of everything right now. You had heard a doorbell, right? You pull the ratty old sweatshirt over your body and creep down the stairs to check the door. It’s ten o’clock at night, for Christ’s sake. Who could it be? 

Fucking. Soap. You curse the Scot in your head. No good, piece of shit, sweetheart John MacTavish and his bleeding heart of gold, god damn him, you’re gonna- 

Simon clears his throat behind you, from where he stands, his massive body shifting uncomfortably in your living room. You close your eyes and try to breathe through your nose. Anxiety builds in your stomach, fear prickling along your scalp. What does he want? A dark thought shudders through you, the realization that if Simon Riley wanted, he could take your son. He could wait you out, disappear with him, and never be seen again. Two ghosts.

“Simon-“

“Were you gonna tell me, Sass?” He has the gall to sound put out, indignant, and you take another deep breath to calm yourself.

“That’s a joke, right?” You turn, face pinched with irritation. “You know, maybe I could have told you, if you hadn’t gotten me fired, if you hadn’t gone and destroyed my credibility with Price.”

“You went on bloody leave, and your credibility is not destroyed.”

“Yeah, sure.” You roll your eyes and then take a second to look at him, closely. His massive legs are straining in a pair of jeans, black sweatshirt with a hood pulled over his head and the infamous balaclava. He’s not wearing the paint, which surprises you, but you keep it to yourself. He looks good, and your hormones rush in your blood.

You don’t care. Just deliver the speech and give him what he wants. The out. 

“How-“ he starts but you cut him off. He’s not in control here, you are. 

“Am I? Or how far along am I?” He says nothing. “I’m okay. And I’m just over six months.” Your hand strokes your belly almost subconsciously, trying to settle the incessant kicking. He tracks you with his eyes, watching your palm move back and forth. You sigh. “Do you want to sit?” You motion to the couch, and he nods, slowly, lowering himself down next to you, posture rigid and stiff. He looks so uncomfortable, you almost laugh. “Look, Ghost-“

“Simon.” Simon. His accent is thick when he corrects you, and something tightens in your heart.

“Simon, you don’t have to do this. We don’t need anything from you. You’re off the hook.” His head snaps from the clenched fists that sit in his lap to your face. “I can do this. You don’t even have to be on the birth certificate. I have it all handled.” Lie. You’re lying to him, straight to his face, but he doesn’t know that. You don’t want him to know that you don’t have it handled. That you could be on bedrest in a matter of weeks, that you’re sick all the time and your PTSD is lingering in the back of your mind like a monster, waiting for you, watching for the moment you break so it can devour you whole.

“Who’s we?” his question snaps you out of your spiral.

“What?”

“You said ‘we don’t need anything from you’, who’s we? Is there someone else?” The words cut. They’re sharp, expectant, and he takes another look around the house. You know he’s already catalogued it, already looked for signs of another, checked to see if anything was amiss.  For a moment, you’re tempted to tell him there is someone else in your life, someone else in your bed. Someone holding your hand at all the appointments, someone rubbing your back as you chuck your entire stomach into the toilet every morning.

“N-no. It’s just me and-“

“Our son.” He finishes for you, and you close your eyes again against the swell of anger.

“My son.” You snap and if possible, his body gets even more tense. Your skin crawls under the sweatshirt and you stand abruptly, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “He’s my son, my baby. You haven’t been here; you have no right to just waltz in here like nothing’s wrong or like you have some claim to him.”

“I put him in ya, Sass. He’s my kid too.” Your breath catches in your throat. His entitlement burns in your blood, and you want to lash out. You have half a mind to hit him, strike him as hard as you can in hopes that maybe he’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

“You screwed me, Ghost.” You hiss his call sign, reverting back to it, distancing yourself from the man behind the mask. “I don’t know why you’re even here. You used me, then you treated me like trash and kicked me to the curb. Don’t pretend like you care now.” He stands from the couch, fingers raking down his thighs. You take a step back immediately.

“I wronged you. I know you hate me, but we should talk about-“

“Don’t. Just, let’s not do this, okay? We’re fine without you. We’re okay on our own. You don’t have to be here.” Silence fills the air between you two, and you curl your fingers into fists before you turn on your heel and stalk into the kitchen. Your hands are shaking, and you lean against the countertop to steady yourself, head spinning when you close your eyes. Why is he doing this? The floor creaks beneath his steps, and he turns the corner into the kitchen, coming to stand in front of you. He dwarfs you, and the size difference that used to thrill you now fills you with anxiety. You were going to have to give birth to his baby, after all. His giant, 94% percentile “large for gestational age” baby, as your doctor called it. He huffs a breath, and you glance up at him, noticing the furrow of his brow, the tense lines of his muscles. He looks nervous. 

“I- I’d like… I want to show you something.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he reaches for the bottom of the balaclava, peeling it up his neck before pulling free of it completely. Your brain short circuits. What, did he just… what? Your mouth drops open in shock as you stare. You can feel your heartrate increasing, and you blink in disbelief. He’s so… handsome. Handsome in a way you weren’t expecting. Not soft but, gentle in a way that surprises you. Strong nose, small scar on his cheek.

“Simon.” You whisper. He takes a hesitant step towards you, and then another when you don’t move away. He says your name, your real name. Not Sass, and you freeze where you stand. He knows your name. 

“It’s on the ultrasound.” He murmurs. He’s still standing so close to you, you can smell him, can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“Simon-“

“I’m mad for ya. Always have been. If you give me a chance, I’d-“

“Stop.” You cut him off before he can say anything else, before he can wear you down even more. “I… this… it’s complicated and… it’s late. I’m tired.” Cop out. You weren’t mentally prepared for this. You had hoped you would never have to have this conversation, you assumed you’d never see him again.

“Okay.” You breathe a sigh of relief when he relents so easily. Simon was used to executing and resulting, immediately and favorably. “I’m staying close.” Your sigh of relief catches in your chest. Fuck. “I’ll come by… tomorrow.” It’s not a request, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Okay.” You agree. You can button this up tomorrow. You can figure out what he wants and then send him on his way, get rid of him. You’re not giving into him, into whatever this is, so easily, just because he took the mask off. You can-

“Sass.” His hand is reaching towards your belly, and he’s watching you with an almost hopeful, longing expression. It’s hard to tell, because you’ve only ever been able to see his eyes. Now, the eyes that you were so used to interpreting on their own had suddenly become much more complex. “Can I?”

“Um. Uh… sure.” You’re treading into dangerous territory here, but you can’t find it in yourself to refuse him. Our son. His words from earlier echo in your mind. His palm presses to your skin, resting softly against the swell, thumb stroking into your sweatshirt. There’s a kick, a soft one, right near his hand, and you watch his face change, the mystery and wonder encompassing it sparking pesky hormone tears behind your eyes. Oh no. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. You try to hold them back, but it’s useless. You’re staring at his face, his whole, unguarded, unmasked face while he feels his son kick for the first time.

It's too much. You step back.

He clears his throat.

“Right. Well, tomorrow then.”

The next fic in this series is here.

[andromeda3116]

going back and rereading order of the stick from the beginning, and like. god, the first 250 comics or so are just. not good. they don't fully suck, but they are so generic. and so early-2000s. but once you get to azure city and start to get the lore, it's like.... okay. we might be onto something here. and then the battle for azure city starts and it's like... shit, we're definitely onto something here.

and then you get to don't split the party, and while it's got its weak points, you hit the soul splice arc with v, and it's like. holy fuck this is good. how the fuck. this was a gag-a-day comic strip about a dnd adventure, how did it come to this? the fact that that arc is all about how one of the good guys descends into madness -- using characteristics that were originally one-off jokes -- and ultimately ends up committing the most Evil act in the entire story, and it's completely in-character, and then has them reach the very bottom, hit their "what you are in the dark" moment, and go back, thus seeding the possibility of their redemption --

shit.

and then it only gets better from there. everything past don't split the party is phenomenal storytelling, world-building, and characterization, and we're coming up on the final battle, and i'm just like -- there are several shoes that are still waiting to drop, and i legitimately cannot tell how this is going to end. i mean, the oracle said that elan would have a happy ending, which means that the world isn't going to be destroyed, and he wouldn't be happy if he, haley, or roy died, so probably at least those three are going to make it, but beyond that...?

this started off as a mediocre early-aughts dnd-based stick-figure comic and turned into a legitimately incredible fantasy tale

shit, and this isn't even starting on redcloak, especially if you read the prequel story, start of darkness. like, he is the poster-child for the sunk-costs fallacy, but at this point, what will it take to convince him to turn on xykon? he loathes the lich, is using him for his own purposes, but he truly believes that he needs xykon to accomplish his goals. but the good guys need him to turn on xykon! they need him to join them, or else all of this is for nothing!

i feel weird recommending it to people because it's like. the first 250 or so comics are mediocre at best, but you can't skip them. early on, there's a lot of casual sexism and a lot of casual homophobia, as was normal at the time this was published. it starts off simplistic, making a lot of cheap dnd jokes. it doesn't start to get impressive until the army shows up at azure city around strip 415, but after that, it will start to blow your fucking socks off.

but you can't skip the first 400 strips! you have to read it from the start! and you'll read them going "is this really what you're recommending?" and i'm like YES!!!!!! just wait for it! the payoff is so fucking worth it!!!

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 6)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Peeta is down by the river, camouflaged in the rocks after Cato slashed his leg and left him for dead.

“Ah ha ha,” Chaff smiles when he spots Haymitch with an entire pitcher of rum. “So this is how the Capitol treats it’s favorites.”

“Had to steal it off the cart.” Haymitch chuckles allowing his friend to slip in between him and Y/N.

“Steady now.” Y/N teases, a hand to his back until he’s seated.

Chaff knocks her shoulder with his own, “what’s the matter, baby?”

Y/N has nothing but love for her husband’s best friend. However they are two peas in a pod and when they get together…there goes all the liquor. Back home in twelve, Haymitch has been known to have a drink or two, still able to enjoy his wife and children. This place brings it all back, the horrible things he’s done, everything he failed to do. If he wasn’t drunk, he’d surely lose his mind.

“I wanna send Peeta medicine,” Y/N explains.

“Sponsors leaving you high and dry? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Not the sponsors, Haymitch made him a deal.”

“Who am I to disrespect this poor boy’s dying wish?” Haymitch quirks a brow.

“And his wish is to-”

“No parachutes. Save Katniss.”

“Katniss,” Chaff drawls.

Two of their tributes have formed an alliance. Rue and Katniss hatching a plan to blow up the career’s stash; lightning fires to draw them away.

“This green stuff is gonna smoke like crazy, as soon as it’s lit, move on to the next one.” The girl on fire warns.

“Ok,” Rue agrees, “we need some kind of signal; in case one of us gets held up.”

“Like what?”

“Here, watch this.” Rue lets out a tiny melody, which the birds rings back.

“Mockingjays.” Katniss realizes, “that’s brilliant.”

“We use them back home to signal the time.” Rue says, shifting the backpack on her shoulder. “If we hear that, it means we’re ok and we’ll be back real soon.”

“We’re gonna be ok,” Katniss pulls her in for a hug, running a hand over her hair. “Hey, I’ll see you for supper.”

————————————————————————

For once in her life Y/N is grateful for the Capitol broadcasting the action only, in the viewing room. A split screen between Rue lighting the fires, the careers chasing smoke and Katniss making her way to the cornucopia.

Clove and the others leave a single boy behind to keep watch. As the red haired tribute from five lily pads around explosives to steal food, the watchman catches her in his peripheral. Taking off after her into the woods.

Katniss lines up her shot, missing the corner of the apple net by just a hair. She takes a step closer, a few calming breathes later the tip of her arrow pierces the bag and out tumble all of the apples.

She’s blown back by the force of it.

“Oooh,” Chaff winces.

After a moment Katniss gets her bearings, heading back to Rue.

The boy keeping watch pays the price, Cato snaps his neck before giving him a chance to explain.

Rue is well on her way to light the last fire when she hears the explosion. Katniss did it. Then the trap set by the careers falls, she tripped the wire, a weighted net.

“Shit.” Y/N covers her mouth. Katniss…please hurry.

“Come on, Rue,” Chaff says, under his breath. “Work your way out.” He coaches, as if she can hear him. She does try, just like he taught her, but the net is too heavy.

When Katniss finds the final fire unlit, she whistles their signal.

“Get her out.” Haymitch rocks back slightly in his seat.

“Get her out.”

“Get her out.

“Get her out!”

The people of the viewing room echo. Y/N turns her head as the room builds to a collective chant.

“Get her out. Get her out. Get her out.”

It isn’t unheard of for spectators to voice their call to action. Though they are more concerned with the entertainment value than the life of the child.

When Katniss gets no response, she races toward the pile of sticks and leaves meant to start the last fire. Still no Rue.

“Katniss! Katniss, help.” Rue calls from beneath the net.

Katniss cuts her loose, Rue safe in her arms. “I’m here, you’re safe.”

The viewing room cheers are short lived. Marvel sends his spear flying, only to be met with Katniss’ arrow. When the cameras pan back to Rue…the damage is clear and irreversible.

Y/N excuses herself. She cannot watch, she cannot pretend, she cannot breathe. Scrambling into the nearest private room with the curtains drawn. Pushing them back with little care before realizing that it is occupied.

“You look ill, dear.” The Capitol woman gasps. “Come, sit down.”

“I’m so sorry to barge in like this.” Y/N apologizes, it’s not anyone she knows.

“Never you mind that, the pleasure is mine. Let me get you a drink.” The woman begins waving down a waiter.

Y/N grabs the ice bucket, “can I throw up in here?” Doesn’t matter, it’s coming up.

“Oh my stars, you poor thing.” She fans the victor as best she can, while continuing to wave one hand out of the privacy curtain. “Must be something you ate.”

“What can I get for you?” The waiter asks.

“Some water, to start and a fresh ice bucket.”

“Yes, right away.”

The woman takes great pleasure in ‘nursing’ Y/N back to health. With water and something close to a bland cracker.

These people are not inherently bad, Y/N realized that years ago. Conditioned in their belief and out of touch, but they are not evil. I don’t hate them…I hate what they do.

It’s not long before Haymitch is tearing back curtains to find her. Letting out a sigh of relief when he does.

“Haymitch, what a pleasure.” The woman holds out a hand.

“Great to meet you, love the dress.” He kisses the top of her hand, using it to guide her toward the exit, “give us a minute, will you?”

“But of course.” The woman is awestruck. The victors of district twelve, in her private room! Hailing over everyone who is anyone. Mouthing, “they’re in there,” motioning toward the fabric that separates them.

“I need you to listen to me.” Haymitch whispers, kneeling in front of Y/N. Wiping away any remnants of vomit and tears.

Y/N nods.

“Katniss gave that little girl a proper send off, you know as well as I do, the gamemakers and Snow aren’t happy about it.” She created a martyr.

Again she nods.

“I’m gonna talk to Crane, see what I can do for damage control.” Keep Katniss alive.

“Ok." Don’t let them kill Katniss.

“We’re gonna get you a mint and then I need you to walk out of here like nothing is wrong. Can you do that?” He tips her chin up, holding her gaze.

There is worry in his eyes, guilt and sadness. Her husband is afraid and he needs her. “Yes.”

“Good,” Haymitch gives her a reassuring smile, taking her into his arms.

————————————————————————

Katniss receives a parachute of bread a while later. After the silence is louder than the cannons and the artificial sun has set.

Haymitch is still negotiating, Y/N figures he must’ve sent it. Until she sees the note attached, from district eleven.

Y/N makes her way over to Seeder, sitting alone in the opposite corner.

“It was for Rue,” she older woman explains before Y/N can get a word out. “My district spent days scrounging up the money, the sponsors finally came through. We had enough to send some for Thresh too.”

“You could’ve sent him both.”

“My people wanted Katniss to have it.” Seeder informs her.

“I know she…appreciates their generosity very much.”

The answer is dry, rehearsed. Y/N is young and still does not understand. “I knew a girl once, she was kind and brave. She played the games and never let them play her. For the first time, I thought there might not be a victor. Because she was lying there, bleeding out and her partner was there, bleeding out…nobody was killing anybody,” she pauses. “Haymitch had to fight like hell to get you out of that one, they wanted your family-”

Dead. “I know,” Y/N stares down at her hands.

“I saw something that day, and I see it in her.” Seeder motions toward Katniss on the screen. “A good, genuine person with heart. They tried to snuff it out of you, beat it out of you; but I still see you. You hold onto your heart and you never let anyone take it from you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N blinks back tears.

“Attention, tributes, attention. The previous rules allowing only a single victor have been…suspended. Two victors may be crowned, so long as they both originate from the same district.”

All hope is not lost.

Part 7

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme

[cavernfullofexistentialdread]

Focalors’ thought process when coming up with Furina (…And Neuvillete’s subsequent freeback)

+Bonus: Little Headcanons for FocaFuri’s designs, thank you to @that-boleyn-boy for sharing this Doomed Yuri with me (Remind me to NEVER draw their full designs this took legit the entire day)

Headcanons/Designs explained under the cut (Not beta-read lol)

I was initially disappointed with Focalors’ design. Don’t get me wrong; it’s very Genshin and VERY old era Archon. But I was honestly expecting more??

Her design really pales in comparison when it comes to Furina, and although I think it’s intentional for narrative reasons; that doesn’t mean I won’t Yassify her myself

I gave her cuffs to match Furina, faded her fingertips to make her appear less human, modified her top just tiny bit, and gave her a coral coronas (the Greek headpiece). Also her hair is modeled after an Axolotl’s fins

I also gave them both matching earrings for silly goofy reasons!! Their eyes no longer match up and the dark side is always on the side of the earrings. Also they both have moles/beauty marks now on opposite sides of their mouths because it’s cute

Not much was changed about Furina’s because OH MY GOD HER DESIGN. But I did give her cape clasps to connect the sides of her suits, and a waterfall ribbon on her hat.

Furina is about three inches taller (+2 inch shoes) and has an overall lankier build. Focalor is fuller and is forever stuck at 5’2, just generally less stick twink coded. Also yes, Foca did in fact give Furina bigger tits. But she is still flat AF compared to everyone else

Don’t let the height trick you though, the split happened when Focalors got all top energy and Furina got all the bottom energy

Thank you for all your feedback, truly, @atlasvulcandar ALSO, Focalor doesn’t have eye bags, her eyelids are naturally like that. It happened with the split, Furina got all the vitality and blood so her under eye is a lot warmer.

(++Bonus) Focalor actually has similar ears to Neuvillette, “non-human elf like”. Furina’s is much less prominent in it’s pointyness, but occasionally when the wind blows people can see it.

[savemeafruitjuice]

Tickletober Day 17- Raspberries

This is a Rise fic! Maaaybe was self-induglent.. just a little. (It's just Leo being bullied, really)

@smiley-star Lee Leo :)

Lee: Leo

Ler: Mikey

TW!: SWEARING!

Leo bounced his leg on his bed, tapping his fingers on his arm. He had felt jittery today, like he had drank three cups of coffee, even though he had been forced to cut down after staying up for almost a full week straight sometime last month.

To be fair, Donnie did that all the time, but Raph just wouldn't let another brother with that degree of a bad sleep-schedule slide.

The blue-themed turtle sighed, instead tracing over the lines of his palm. The slightly tingly sensation calmed him down a bit, until that same feeling returned in his stomach. After a second, the slider realized what it was. A lee-mood.

The turtle groaned quietly, choosing to ignore it for the time being. Everyone was tired, having had a crazy run-in with some mutants last night, and no one would want to deal with whatever he wanted. It wasn't a priority.. it could wait..

"LEO!"

He flinched, body pausing before turning around on his bed to face the doorway. It was Mikey's voice, which was weird, considering the youngest would usually greet everyone at their own doors. "Yeah? What is it?" He listened for a response, but none came. "WHAT?!"

"COME HERE!"

Leo sighed, tightening the drawstring on his hoodie to hide his face, which was probably flushed from his newfound.. mood. He left his room, feet shuffling on the ground as he made his way to the source of the voice. Walking across the lair, he immediately paused at the entrance of his brother's room.

Mikey was sitting on the floor, arms crossed over his chest. Next to him was a paint splatter, covering the majority of what looked like the youngest's most recent artwork. "Aw, Mike.. your painting.. are you okay?"

The box turtle shook his head, pressing his arms harder around himself. "No! All day, no one has wanted to hang out, and was asleep for the entire morning! I had to eat breakfast by myself, so I went to paint to feel better, but then I spilled a bunch of stupid red everywhere!"

Frustrated tears were building up in the smaller's eyes. Leo quickly went to sit down next to him, holding his arms out to comfort him. Mikey sniffled, flopping into the elder's hold. "I'm so sorry, we didn't mean to leave you alone like that-"

"No.." the younger interrupted, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "It's not any of your fault.. I'm just.. overwhelmed." Leo nodded, squeezing him into a hug. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Mikey nodded. "I just have a lot of energy built up.. could I.. uhm-" he paused, the elder nudging him to continue. "try tickling you..?"

The question was so quiet, Leo was almost convinced he had made it up, but the words rang clear in his mind. "Oh! Uh- sure, Mikey." A smile crept onto his face. It was weird how his lee-moods always seemed to sync up with his brothers, but that wasn't his concern right now.

Mikey smiled back, although it was a little shyer than the slider's. He hugged his brother tight, mumbling a "thanks" before reaches for his hips, latching onto them gently. "Just tell me if it's too much."

Leo squawked, arms jolting down, though he didn't push his little brother away. "DEHEheal!" The box turtle pinched at the joint for a few seconds, then carefully pushed on the taller's plastron to lay him down, sitting on his thighs. Mikey giggled, then rolled up the blue cloth of his hoodie. Leo only had a split second to realize what was going on, watching his brother's head lower, before being plunged into a fit of loud laughter. "HAHAHAH! AAHAH! MIKEHEY!"

"Whahat? I thought you agreed?" Mikey smiled, blowing another raspberry against his belly. "I can stop if you want." The slider bucked, whining at the offer. "NAHAH! Heheh, nohoHOHO! IHI-AHAH! IHIhit's SNRT- OHOHOKAHAay!"

The younger smiled. "Alright then, hang in there, Lee~" He took a deep breath, eyes gleaming mischievously at the anticipation on the elder's face.

Leo's eyes had squeezed shut, blushing at the nickname, only for them to shoot open wider than before at the horrible tickly feeling on the side of his ribs. "HAAAH AHAH! MIHIKEHEHEEEY, NOHOT THEHERE! HAHAHAHAHAH!" His arms shot out to push at the younger's head, but the other just pushed his hoodie higher up, taking his arms with it.

When Leo opened his eyes, he learned that the clothing article had been pushed over his face as well, and he was trapped in a sea of blue as Mikey blew raspberry after raspberry on his plastron. He kicked and squirmed, trying to sit up to stop the tickling, soon lost in his own laughter as his thighs were lightly scribbled on.

"FUHUHU-AHAH! SNRT- IHI CAHAHAN'T SEHEHEE! IHI-AAHAHAHAHAHAH! SNRT- NAHAHAH, PLEHAHAHA!"

The orange-themed turtle cooed, scooting down on his knees which effectively stopped the moving from those limbs. Instead, the slider's hips bucked, and he once again tried to pull his arms out of his sleeves, too overcome with ticklishness to escape.

"Y'know, I think I want to try something.. Of course, if you're willing." There were a couple seconds before the elder had processed the question, the turtle trying to suck in as much air as he could when the fingers at his legs stopped moving. "WHAHaha- SNRT- WhahaHAHat is ihit?.."

Mikey's grin was that of pure evil.

"Oh, I was just wondering how much a raspberry on your thigh would tickle.."

"Euhuhughhh bohohoy.."

-----

Errm I may end up doing a part two to this? Possibly later in the month, or maybe a fic later on. We'll see I guess. Have a great day!

[thlayli-ra]

A Sinner at Heart

AO3 Version Here

Characters - LA Knight, Nick Aldis

Pairing - LA Knight/Nick Aldis

AU - Valetverse (created by Syreina)

Rating - Mature (18+ only!)

Warnings - Valets and Dominants, Sub/Dom Undertones, Flirting, Male Slash, Stripping, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, No Prep, Sex for Favours

Words - ~4,500 words

Background Info - In a world where women no longer exist, society is split into two; dominants (the ruling class) and valets (who possess the 'inualidus chromosome' that allows them to bear children). Stripped of basic human rights, valets are expected to be entirely subservient to the dominants that claim them and few are prized higher than the valets of the WWE.

Summary - LA Knight knows exactly what he wants - and he's not afraid to stoop to one of his old tricks to get it!

For @stripeydani - Enjoy! 😘

     LA Knight was a valet on a mission. He knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how he was going to get it. 

     It just meant bending his newfound morals a little bit. Fall back on one of his old tricks. A well-tried-and-tested trick, it should be pointed out.

     Making his way through the backstage area, he strode up to Nick Aldis' office door and lingered there a second or two. This wasn't a time for barging in and making demands. Men like Aldis preferred things done a certain way, a professional way. Which was why he'd planned it all out in advance, down to the finest detail. 

     He'd called Aldis' PA to make the appointment days ago, early in the afternoon to avoid any undesirables butting in on his time and had made sure he arrived early. As temped as he'd been to strut in wearing only his gear, he'd opted for a more conservative look - his signature vest, yellow shirt (with the sleeves cut off, of course - he was going for modest here, not prudish!) and, to finish off the look, the tightest pair of jeans he owned. 

     The denim was practically creaking against his pert, round ass as he checked himself over one last time. Neatly trimmed hair and beard? Check! A thin dusting of baby oil on his exposed arms (just enough to make him glisten without looking like a walking GI Joe doll)? Check! And, most important of all, his sunglasses, to hide the greatest weapon in his arsenal, his big baby blues, until he needed to unleash them with a dramatic flourish.

     Check and double check!

     He was ready! And judging from the hands on his watch, he was right on time.

     He rapped his knuckles against the door and after a beat, a deep voice beckoned him inside. 

     'Mr Aldis?' Knight enquired politely as he stepped into the office, closing the door carefully behind him.

     The Smackdown general manager glanced up from his paperwork, looking as dashing as ever in his three-piece suit with his neatly coiffured hair and five o' clock shadow on his chin. 'Thought we already talked about this, Eli,' he said, getting up from his desk to offer his hand to the valet, showcasing his impressive size. Tall and broad, a classic dominant build. Knight liked them big. 'Call me Nick.'

     'And I thought we already talked about how it's LA now,' Knight replied with a cheeky grin, accepting the dominant's hand and giving it a firm shake. He wasn't offended by the mistake - the pair had known each other for years, from back when they'd both worked in the indies and went by different names. Sometimes, even Knight's own husband, Bobby Lashley, called him by his old moniker in bed, probably because his little infatuation with the boastful valet had started back then. But Knight didn't care; so long as it was his name he cried out as he came.

     The GM gave a small laugh. 'Of course, my apologies. Please, take a seat.' He motioned to the chair but Knight instead chose to perch himself on the edge of the GM's desk. Either the dominant didn't notice or didn't mind as he settled back into his desk chair. 'How can I help you today... LA?'

     The valet took note of the way Nick put emphasis on his name. It sent shivers down his spine. He'd always been a sucker for an accent. Scottish, especially. There was something extra filthy about his ex Drew's rugged intonation between the sheets. Same with Joe Hendry, one of the few valets he'd fooled around with, with his softer but no less robust dialect, the thought of which made him weak at the knees.

     But English... oh, he appreciated an English accent! Especially those that filled every word with bewitching charm. Like Lord Regal. Like Wade Barrett.

     Like Nick Aldis!

     'I think you already know why I'm here?' Knight said, smiling sweetly at the GM.

     Nick lowered his head with a sigh and tapped the butt of his fountain pen against his desk. 'If you're looking for Logan Paul then he's not here tonight.'

     'Well, well, what a surprise!' Knight scoffed. 'What's he doin' this time? Filming another stupid video? Tiring out some washed-up old-timer in the boxing ring? Losing to a four year old in the World Tiddlywinks Championships?' Nick looked away to hide the mirth on his face. 'You know, over on the red brand, they've got Sami Zayn defending that IC title week-in-and-week-out against some of the biggest, most dangerous dominants on the roster. Our Undisputed Champion, Cody Rhodes, is here for every taping and every live show and every PLE and all the press in between.'

     Nick gave a nod, seeing Knight's point. Because for once, he had a point! Now, he only had to add himself into the equation.

     'And you've got a guy like me turning up, putting my body on the line, practically breaking myself in half on ladders then showing up for work on Friday. Doesn't matter that I'm all banged up, doesn't matter I've got bruises on my pretty face, I'm here. Not swaggering in whenever I damn well feel like it, like our so-called 'US Champion'. You ask me, he's more a BS Champion.'

     'Clever,' Nick teased. 'How long did it take you to come up with that one?'

     'Rolled off my tongue right now as a matter of fact,' Knight replied, smugly. The GM was taking the bait nicely but Knight was in no rush to hook him in just yet. Where was the fun in that?  'Look, I've already chased this dummy around the block, even went as far as going to his damn house and enjoyed a little dip in his pool-'

     'Yes, and we spoke about that,' Nick cut in, his tone a warning for the valet.

     'Well if I can't go knocking on his door again then what must I do to get this dummy in the ring? I've been in Elimination Chambers and King of the Ring tournaments and Money in the Bank matches, I beat AJ Styles one-two-three at Wrestlemania, hell, I've gone toe-to-toe with the Head of the Table himself, Roman Reigns and came within a whisker of becoming the Undisputed WWE Champion so what else?' 

     Knight shuffled around the desk until he was sat on Nick's side, directly facing the dominant who was reclining back in his desk chair. Without a hint of subtlety, the GM's eyes travelled down to ogle Knight between his open legs, his generous bulge straining against the tight denim. That's it. Have a good look. You play your cards right you might even get more intimately acquainted.

     'You want me to go out there tonight and have another triple threat match for the number one contendership? Then fine, if you all need me to prove myself again, I've got my gear with me. Just let me go put on my boots and trunks and I'll-

     'Will you be wearing anything under those little red trunks of yours this time?' Nick's eyes sparkled cheekily up at the valet, who couldn't help but cough out a hearty laugh, a wide grin breaking his lips.

     Oh, this is just too damn easy! 

     Leaning closer, Knight peeked over the rim of his sunglasses. 'You saw that, huh?'

     'Everybody saw it!' Nick quirked his eyebrows.

     'Did you like it?' The grin travelled up Knight's cheek. 'Like how baby-smooth I keep myself down there?'

     Nick said nothing but kept his mischievous eyes on the valet.

     'Hey, you're in charge. You wanna see me rolled up like a pretzel while my opponent get all handsy with my smalls, you just gotta make the call.'

     Nick cleared his throat and sat up straight, pretending to get back to work. 'Friendly reminder that this is a family show LA, so keep the family jewels covered up in the future.'

     'Sure thing,' Knight said. He wasn't fooled by the sudden lack of interest; the dominant just wanted to remind Knight that he was the one in charge here. And hey, if he needed his ego massaged, then Knight was more than happy to oil up his hands. 'Is this appropriate enough, Boss?'

     'Is what appropriate enough?' Nick asked, scribbling away on his paperwork. 

     'What I'm wearing right now?' Knight nudged his knee in closer towards the GM, encroaching on the form he was trying to fill. The question hung in the air. The hand holding the fountain pen stopped, frozen in space.

     But Knight could see Nick's eyes lingering on his beefy thigh, admiring every curve and groove. The valet stayed silent and waited, letting the mouse make the next move.

     Slowly, Nick's hand slinked its way across the desktop towards the offending limb. Scaling the hard face of his knee, the hand smoothed its way up and up, fingers splayed, eventually coming to halt at the peak of Knight's inner thigh, his pinkie finger wedging itself into the groove at his pelvis to nuzzle against his bulge. The valet took in a small, shuddering gasp. A beautifully executed piece of acting that worked perfectly to please the GM.

     'Lashley-'

     'We have an agreement. He can keep this wild mare but he can't tame me. I've got to run free.'

     Nick wasn't looking at him. Both his eyes and hands were too occupied with the prize waiting for them between the valet's legs.

     'What is it you're wanting here, exactly LA?'

     'A shot at the US title,' Knight said with ease, 'at Summerslam.' 

     The dominant gave a nod of his head, considering the demand. 'Go lock the door.'

     Knight twisted around to spy the office door, taking the opportunity to push out his chest and shoulders. 'Already got it on my way in.'

     Nick huffed a laugh. 'You were rather sure of getting your own way, weren't you?'

     'I always do,' the valet tilted his chin back, arrogantly.

     'Take your shirt off!'

     'Yes, Boss.'

     Shucking off his vest and muscle tee, Knight tossed them to the floor by which time, Nick had put down his pen and pushed back his desk-chair. Hooking a hand under each of Knight's thighs, he coaxed the valet down onto his lap and admired the tanned, chiselled muscle on display. Stroking a hand over one Herculean pec and up his collarbone, he  smoothed along a broad shoulder then up the side of the valet's strong neck, teasing Knight's bearded cheek with the back of his fingers. A fingertip caught the bridge of Knight's sunglasses and eased them down his nose slightly, revealing the pretty blues underneath.

     'Want them off, Boss?' Knight asked.

     'No.'

     The hand grabbed Knight's bristled chin and pulled him close, locking their lips together. Their tongues sloppily clashed, swirling around to explore the deepest crevices of each other's mouths, all while Nick kept a firm grip on Knight's jaw. 

     Even when they finally pulled back for a breath, each man's chests starting to heave a little heavier, that strong hand refused to let go. Ensuring that those slivers of sea breeze watched the GM as his other hand went to his throat to loosen the knot of his tie and undo the top button of his shirt. Knight drew in his bottom lip, following the hand as it trailed down to unfasten the buttons of Nick's waistcoat next, lightly pushing the fine fabric apart. The hand on his chin angled down, leading its captive audience to witness the dominant unbuckling his leather belt.

     But there, the game stopped. 

     Knight realised it was his turn. 

     He moved his hands towards Nick's waist and unfastened the final button and zipper on his suit pants, digging one hand in to release the GM's dick, already semi-hard and keen. The thumb on Knight's chin stroked back and forth tantalisingly.

     'Well...?' Nick asked, cocking an eyebrow at the valet.

     'I think I can help with that, Boss.' One hand wrapped around the dominant's shaft, the other coerced his legs apart so that he could slip down between them. Once positioned on his knees, Knight shuffled in close, rolling his tongue over his lips to moisten him. Right before he took it into his mouth, he pumped his hand up the entire length, squeezing right at the tip until the blood pooled and turned the skin a delicious dark red.

     Nick growled when the valet engulfed the entire head into his mouth in one gulp, craning his neck back in the early throes of pleasure when lips tightened around the sensitive skin and began to suck. Knight's soft, wet tongue entered the fray, slurping up the underside of his cock, teasing the bump where his foreskin crinkled against his shaft. 

     'Hmmph!' the dominant's fist flew up to his mouth but didn't stifle the grunt in time, as Knight's tongue swirled around his cock head. The cheeky tip honed in on the eye, drawing circles around it before attacking, boring its way in. The GM's chin shot up, lips pulling back in a barely controlled snarl. 

     From down below, Knight gazed up over the rim of his sunglasses, eyes sparkling with wickedness. Man, oh man, did he enjoy watching these big, brutish men fall apart like a cheap condom under his power. And he'd barely even touched the guy yet. While he continued teasing the head, he used one free hand to stroke up and down the barrel in slow, tight motions while the other fondled his balls, each sensation hitting a sweet spot for the GM as evidenced by the swelling implement between Knight's hollow cheeks.

     Pumping his fist all the way to the base, the valet went for seconds, swallowing more of the dominant down. In his peripheral vision, he could see both sets of Nick's fingernails digging into the leather arms of his desk-chair and felt a pang of indignation that he was not the recipient of those talons. Claw my shoulders, claw my back, grab me by my hair! Come on, you're a dominant. Live up to it!

     He retaliated by sucking. Hard and slow. Taking in more and more until he could feel it prod the back of his throat. Fortunately by now, Knight was a master of his gag reflex and opened his throat up to welcome the rest of the dominant in, guzzling him down until his nose nestled in the course brown hair at the base of his dick.

     He looked up again. Nick was looking right at him. Mouth agape, cheeks flushed, a bead of sweat started to slide down his glistening brow. Whose game is it now? Knight inwardly chuckled, as he gazed up over his sunglasses which were pressed tight into the crook of Nick's thighs, poking into the soft flesh on either side while his blue eyes shimmered with all the wonder of a disciple admiring their saint.

     Knight gave a wink. And hummed.

     Nick tossed his head back, a deep, throaty whine spitting through his gritted teeth. 

     Knight kept moving, pulling back to let the rock solid cock slip from his mouth then ramming it back in again, all while his fingers kneaded Nick's balls and his sunglasses prodded into his inner thigh. Each thrust and pull and squeeze and prong released a barrage of fresh curses and indecipherable noises from the GM's lips. His fingernails started to shred through the leather on the arms of his chair.

     The jealousy became too much and Knight grabbed one of the offending hands and clamped it down on his head, hissing when they twisted into his dark curls harshly. A pleasant sting. The dominant's other hand moved on its own accord to snake around the back of Knight's head, brushing back and forth along the feathery bristles where he had newly shorn it. 

     The pressure in Knight's mouth was becoming too much. The GM was about to burst his load any second, disappointing the valet who was having far too much fun. 

     Fortunately, the dominant had other plans. The hand in Knight's hair gripped tightly, yanking him back and eventually off of his painfully throbbing dick with a loud, wet pop. The valet's wet chin was grabbed again and jerked skyward, two pairs of glazed eyes tried to focus on one another through the haze.

     'No...' the Englishman slurred out breathlessly. 'Up.'

     Knight's legs were weak, wobbling at the knees but he managed to struggle up to his feet. Desperate fingers pawed at the waistband of his super tight jeans, practically tearing the denim off of his thick thighs. 

     Nick hitched a breath, spying the special treat Knight had hidden for him under his pants.

     He wasn't wearing any underwear!

     'Oops! Guess I didn't learn my lesson from last time, Boss,' he said coyly, thrusting his hips forward to emphasise the meaty appendage between his legs, already a deep pink and starting to swell. Dipping his head, Knight peeked over the rim of his sunglasses, feigning all the innocence of a young valet on his claiming night. 'You gonna punish me?' 

     The loaded question hung in the air, charging the atmosphere.

     Until Nick answered with a growl. Snaring the valet in his mighty grip, he dragged him back onto his lap. Lathering up his fingers with the mess of pre-cum and spit from his cock, he slid them under Knight when the valet interrupted him.

     'Only good boys get prepped,' he smirked, 'and I aint a good boy.'

     The GM stared viciously at the valet, heaving breaths whistling through his teeth. 'No. I suppose you're not!'

     The fingers quickly forgot their mission and instead latched onto Knight's flanks, smearing their mess onto his hip. Together, they lifted the valet up until his dry hole lined with Nick's sopping wet dick. Knight pushed down hard, trying to break the seal quickly. He was certain he'd lubricated the GM enough for it to slip right in but it still met plenty of resistance, making him wince loudly at the burn, feeling every inch as it widened him up.

     But damn! Did it feel good! 

     Bobby never fucked him raw. Said it was for the valet's own welfare, (although really, it was probably because the dominant didn't feel comfortable doing it) but there was something about the intensity and the pain that made it all seem so... nasty! Like he was committing a cardinal sin. 

     He may have been a changed man now, on a mission of redemption to alter his selfish ways and make amends for every wrong he had caused in the past. Yet, underneath all that self-improvement and character reform...

     ... he was still a sinner at heart!

     Nick began to buck his hips and thrust in deeper, grinning like a jackal at every sweet whimper it tore from the valet's throat. 'Is that punishment enough?' he asked right before punching his way in rougher, keeping an iron grip on Knight's hips so that he couldn't pull away as he drove himself in right to the hilt.

     Knight gritted his teeth at the sting before letting out an obnoxious scoff. 'Don't think I've learnt my lesson yet, Boss.' 

     'Well, we can't have that now, can we?'

     The thrusting turned more rhythmic, pumping more than thrusting and now that Knight was acclimatising, he started to relax. Pushing back against the dominant's hips, his eyes rolled into the back of his head whenever he felt Nick's cock hitting his g-spot, grinding against that large bundle of nerves that spat out sparks of ecstasy at every touch. His lower jaw went limp and he began to moan and groan with growing pleasure.

     'Enjoying yourself?'

     'How can you tell?' Knight could barely open his heavy eyes, squeezing himself as close as he could against Nick's hot groin.

     'You're being very noisy,' Nick said, in that same professional manner he used for contract briefings, only a little breathier than usual. 'I knew you were loud in the ring but didn't realise it was this bad out of it.'

     'Afraid someone might hear?' Knight smirked. The GM answered with a stern look. 'Hey, you wanna shut me up, you know how.'

     Nick grabbed Knight by the back of his head and smashed their mouths together. Knight's sunglasses clanked as the bridge of their noses collided. Clamping his lips over Knight's loudmouth, he gagged him with his tongue, shoving it in between his teeth, stifling the needy groan that thrummed from the valet's throat. 

     As their mouths tangled above, their hips merged below, working together in perfect harmony to wring every ounce of pleasure from them both. Knight had completely opened up, the thin lube of his earlier spit adding some ease to the motion. Nick kept hitting that marvellous piece of him deep inside but every sound Knight made was muffled by his boss' lips. 

     Soon, even the GM began to break his own rules. Ravaged noises rumbled from his own throat. If Knight could smile through the intense kissing, he would be beaming from ear-to-ear. The pace picked up, getting frantic. He struggled to keep up, his thighs throbbing as he bounced up and down on Nick's lap. The kissing degenerated into open mouth panting, both men's breaths fogging the other's cheek. Sparkles of bright colours like fireworks began to burst behind Knight's closed eyes. 

     Nick came first, spilling his seed, wet and hot inside of the valet. The feel of it oozing down his back passage, and the strangled snarl that accompanied it, was enough to spiral Knight into his own climax. He only had a chance to yelp for a second before his mouth was covered again, every one of his unchecked wails smothered by the GM's lips sealed against his own.

     Only once he'd finally finished, did Nick let him go, tugging on his swollen, deep-pink lips with his teeth before slumping back into his desk chair and swallowing air down like a starved waif.

     From up above, Knight was a wretched, crumpled shade of the 'modest' valet he'd walked in as. Clothes gone, hair dishevelled, his sunglasses slanted lop-sided on the bridge of his nose. His hazy blue eyes never wavered from the GM, bushy brows high as his shoulders rose and fell.

     'Well...?' he uttered, mirroring Nick's earlier question.

     The GM creaked open one glazed eye and cleared his throat. Sitting back up, he reached around the valet for a tissue from the box on his desk and nonchalantly wiped at the mess left from Knight's orgasm on his pants and shirt. Without asking, Knight grabbed a tissue for himself but it was swiftly snatched away by Nick who then used it to tenderly clean the valet's cock. 'I think I can help you with that.'

     'With my dick or with my US Title match?'

     Nick said nothing, only continued to mop up his temporary lover between the legs until he was satisfied. Finally looking up to catch the curious blue eyes staring back at him, he reached over to right his wonky sunglasses. 'Come back here after the show starts. I will have one of the guys type up a contract for you and leave it on my desk for you to pick up.' 

     'Sounds good,' Knight nodded with approval. 'Will it have Logan Dumbass' signature on it too?'

     'That,' Nick pushed the valet's sunglasses back up to the top of his nose with his index finger, 'is your mission.'

     Knight drew in a breath. Mulling it over. 

     'Leave it with me.'

     'You're the man for the job.' Pulling a comb from his inside pocket, Nick ran it through Knight's slightly damp curls, teasing them back off his sweaty forehead. Once he was satisfied that he'd smartened the valet enough, he grasped him by the chin, gentler than before and pulled him in for a parting kiss. 'The words you're looking for, by the way, are 'thank' and 'you'.'

     'Right back at ya!' Knight parried.

     Nick smiled softly, pecking the valet on the lips. 'Thank you.'

     'And thank you, Boss.' He tipped his head to the side cheekily. 'Will you be here later when I come to pick it up?'

     'Unfortunately not,' Nick replied, smoothing his hands over the valet's naked thighs and down his muscular chest, 'but you can knock on my door any time.'

     As promised, when Knight popped into Nick's office after Smackdown started, he found a contract for a US title match against Logan Paul at Summerslam waiting for him. He decided to waste no time and searched for a pen, grinning filthily as he picked up the fountain pen he'd made Nick abandon earlier, and signed his name on the dotted line. Now, he just needed to get the other. 

     He would think of a way. He always got what he wanted. Always!

     Heading back outside, he found a slew of others waiting in line to see Nick, among them those two vain buffoons, Pretty Deadly. 'Hey dummies, he aint here!' he informed them then walked away before the carnage hit. Striding down the hallway, he admired his prize while Bobby's voice echoed between his ears.

     'Just... don't do anything stupid when I'm not there, like, I dunno, sleep with the boss.'

     Knight was sure he meant Hunter though. Pretty sure...

     Instead, he focused on the contract in his hand, almost feeling something radioactive emitting from it. Something exciting! He deserved this, he had earned it, with his blood, his tears and his sweat - a whole lot of sweat! And come Summerslam, he would have his hand raised and that gold around his waist then there would be no more doubt who's game this is, with everybody saying-

     The lights flickered.

     Knight looked up but by the time his wide blue eyes found the light source it had returned to normal. He let out a stuttered breath, balling his fist up tight.

     'Yeah, thought I'd be seeing you,' he snarled under his breath, glancing around him for any other tell-tale signs. 'Knew as soon as I saw that mess you made on Raw that you'd be showing your ugly, rubber face over here.' Nothing. Everybody was going about their business, as if they hadn't noticed. 

     'Well, here's the deal, Howdy,' Knight went on. 'I don't give a damn if you're back. I don't give a damn if you've got a bunch of cross-eyed halfwits running around in masks doing your bidding. I aint never gonna belong to you again. You come gunning for me, you ain't tangling with the same guy you were before. I'm ready for you, and I'm gonna do what I should have done the last time you tried to lock me in your damn cage.

     'I'm gonna put you down. For good!

     'But, for now,' he gazed lovingly at his contract, 'I've got bigger fish to fry. YEAH!'