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arlana-likes-to-write · 8 months ago

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Medusa

Summary: When Fury calls you into his office, you expected to be in trouble not to be offered a spot on the team with the Avengers. Unfortunately, you have a secret you want no one to know about.

Relationships: Avenger x reader (platonic)

Warnings: implied sexual assault, reader is a mutant (similar powers to Mystic), memory loss, mention of death, protective Avengers, fluff, small amount of angst

Medusa tattoo is often interpreted as representing strength, power, and female empowerment. More specifically, some people get a medusa tattoo to indicate that they are a survivor of sexual violence and to symbolize their own empowerment

You thought you were getting fired when Fury called you into his office. You racked your brain for any possibilities that could have led you here. All your mission reports were completed and handed in. You passed your certifications with flying colors. Maybe that dipshit agent reported you. What was his name? Tom? His hand drifted a little too low for your liking during training, and you punched him in the dick. Maria didn’t even bat an eye as he rolled around the ground in pain. “Why do you look nervous?” The director asked.

“Am I in trouble, sir?” You questioned. He folded his hands and rested them on his desk.

“Did you do something that would warrant you being in trouble?” You shrugged. The man rolled his one good eye and pointed to the chair. You sat down, a knot still formed in your stomach. “The Avengers have a mission, and I think your skill sets would be helpful.” He handed you a mission report. You opened it and glanced at it. There wasn’t a lot to go on. The Avengers were looking to get into a HYDRA base that was continuing experiments on misguided individuals. The problem was they needed to find out where the facility was located.

“In 3 days, there will be a party in DC where a few suspected HYDRA personnel will be there,” Fury explained. You looked at the man, still confused about why he believed you were the right agent for the job. “The team has someone in custody invited to the party.” There it was. You closed the file and handed it back to him.

“Do they know?” The question was burning on your tongue since he said you would be joining the team.

“Do you think I’d tell them?” The man looked offended. He was the only one that knew of the scars that covered your body. “No, they only know of your skills as an agent.”

“Nick,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. You were the only one that called him that. He took on a father role when he found you. Instead of turning you in, he adopted you.

“Jr,” he rounded his desk to stand before you. “I wouldn’t have suggested you if you weren’t ready.” You looked at him. His one good eye softened slightly.

“When do I leave?” A smile formed on the man’s usually stoic face.

“As soon as possible. Maria is waiting for you at the compound.” You smiled; at least you would have a familiar face there. “You got this kid.”

“There she is!” Maria was quick to rush over to you and bring you into a hug. You saw Natasha walk over to you behind her shoulder. “The big man finally let you join the big leagues, uh, jr?” You rolled your eyes. Maria always liked to tease that you were Fury’s only soft spot. Hell, you were her soft spot, too. Once the agent released you from the bone-crushing hug, you faced the Black Widow.

“Natasha,” she offered her hand, and you shook it. Of course, you knew who she was. “Maria has not stopped talking about you.” You glanced at the agent, but she shrugged her shoulders. “She called you, Jr.,” the Black Widow slowly said. Are your parents agents?” Maria snorted but covered it up with a cough.

“Technically, yes,” you said. The redhead gave you a look for you to continue. “The director adopted me when I was 14.” Natasha’s eyes widened, and her head snapped to look at Maria. The agent cringed slightly. You knew the duo were dancing around being in a relationship- many SHIELD agents talked about it. “It was need to know,” you said. “He didn’t want certain people to find out.” It was understandable. The man had a long list of enemies. Maria put her arm around your shoulders.

“The team is waiting to meet you,” she said. “Are you ready to show them what you can do?” You weren’t 100% sure if you were.

“This is the agent the pirate wanted us to bring onto the team,” Tony said as you entered the meeting room. There was an empty seat next to Wanda; you took it with a smile. “She’s a kid.”

“So is Peter, and you let him on the team,” Maria defended.

“I’d be carefully talking about Fury,” Natasha smirked. “You are looking at his kid.” The billionaire’s jaw dropped. You shrugged.

“I didn’t know he had it in him to reproduce,” the comment got him a quick smack to the back of the head by Rhodey. You cringed even though he adopted you, the idea- Nope. Not happening.

“Ignore him,” Steve said. “We are excited to have you on the team.” You smiled at the blonde super-solider.

“Director Fury was unclear on what you could provide for this mission,” Vision said. You made eye contact with Maria, who winked at you. “Can you provide some insight?”

“I’m enhanced,” you said. “I spent time with Charles Xavier to get it under control.”

“Can you show us what you can do?” Sam questioned. You smiled and nodded.

“Maria, pick one of them,” the agent smirked and pointed to Steve. Sighing, you stood up and walked over to the super soldier. He rolled back in his chair away from the table. All you did was hold out your hand. “It won’t hurt.”

“Will it hurt you?” he countered. His statement made you frown. That was different. No one ever asked how your abilities affected you. You shook your head. It never hurt, but it left you disoriented. Steve hesitated but connected his hand with yours. Nothing happened, and you dropped his hand. Then you changed.

You remembered a time before Fury sent you off to Xavier. Every time you grabbed onto someone’s hand, you changed. Now, you can control it and only use your powers when you want to.

No matter how many times you did this, you found it fascinating. You saw the world differently each time. Now, with the super soldier senses, the world seemed sharper. Steve was taller and stronger than you. It felt strange being him.

“Holy fuck.”

“Language,” you said in Steve’s voice. The color was drained from the man’s face as he saw himself in front of him. You looked at Maria with a slight nod, and she knew what you were asking for. She’s seen your powers with Fury.

“Jr, what program did Steve enter to receive the serum?”

“Project Rebirth. I was the only recipient of the serum developed by Abraham Erskine,” you answered. That was an easy question. An answer was easily found in his file or at the museum.

“What are we looking at here?” Rhodey asked. You looked back at Steve.

“Ask me something personal,” you spoke in your voice. He stared at you before his eyes landed on the soldier across from him.

“The fight where I first met Bucky, why did I pick a fight with them?” You smiled.

“They demanded a fee for crossing Tenth Avenue,” you wink before changing back. You watched as your skin bubbled, and then it stopped. “The director said you have someone in custody attending a party you need information from. I can get you that information.” Watching people learn what you could do was always interesting—a range of emotions passed through their faces- amazement, fear, worry.

“How long does it last?” Natasha questioned. She was looking at you with fear even though she masked it well.

“As long as I want it to,” you sat back down. “In 15 minutes, once I stop using it, all your thoughts, memories, and secrets leave my head.” You saw everyone relax.

“How did you get this ability?” You shrugged at Wanda’s question.

“I don’t know,” you traced the groves off the wood. “Not even the director knows. I guess it will forever be a mystery.”

Living and training with the Avengers challenged you. They pushed you harder in training, and you felt yourself growing stronger every day. However, they challenged you to be more social. You were an introvert by nature, afraid to gain the trust of those around you. Your mind might not remember what you were put through, but your body told a different story. Scars covered your body, which was then covered with tattoos.

The team was used to seeing you train in a long-sleeve shirt, never a tank top or sports bra like Natasha or Wanda. No matter how much sweat dripped down your back, you stayed in the long-sleeve shirt. It only came off when you were in the shower or the comfort of your room. They never asked, never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. They provided you with an extra bottle of water or a hug if you wanted one.

Early on, you also learned they were highly protective over you since you were the youngest full-time member. Even at the HYDRA party, that went well, and you retrieved the information they fused over you. To your surprise, they kept you on the team and didn’t send you back to SHIELD with Fury’s permission. You were enjoying your time with them, your secrets trapped away until they came tumbling out.

You thought you were in the clear. The rest of the team watched a movie, and you told everyone you were too tired. However, you left your room and headed to the training area. All you wanted to do was work up a sweat and then go to bed. So you punched at the sandbag, only wearing a sports bra and sweatpants—the rock music you played in your ears blocked out the world around you. You focused on how your knuckles ached at each punch and the beating of your heart behind your ribs. You loved training. It was a simple reminder that you were alive.

It happens on instinct. You felt a hand on your shoulder and grabbed it, flipping whoever it was over and onto their back. The culprit was Sam. You pulled your headphones out of your ears and heard the pained groan the man let out. “Fuck, Sam, you can’t sneak up on me.” You knelt in front of him. “What hurts? Do you want me to get Bruce? How many fingers am I holding up?” He groaned again.

“The only thing that hurts is my pride,” he sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “I like your tattoos. I didn’t know you had any.” You sat down as your hand shook. You were so caught up on making sure he was okay that you forgot about the little clothes you were wearing. He saw them, all of them. Did he know what they meant? “Hey, jr, are you okay? You’re shaking.” You snapped out of it.

“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” you chuckled. He rolled his eyes and reassured you that he was fine. “But wait, aren’t you guys watching a movie? Why are you here?”

“We are watching a movie, and I suggested we have ice cream,” which was no surprise. The world’s mightiest heroes had the worst diets and the craziest sweet tooth. “I drew the short stick of finding you to see if you want any.” Sam stood up and rubbed his butt. “And my ass took one for the team.” You took his outstretched hand he offered you and helped you up. “So, do you want ice cream?”

“No, I’m good.” You wanted to get some air. He frowned.

“Are you sure? You never say no to ice cream. I’m not upset about what happened. We can keep it between us. Please.” You hated how easily it was for him to make you smile.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you began to unwrap your hands. “Have a good night, Sam.” You threw the tap in the trash can on your way out.

“Did she want any?” Natasha looked away from her bowl to see Sam without you. He shook his head. “The more of us!” Tony cheered. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Did you know Jr. has tattoos?” She heard Maria drop her spoon in the bowl, and the agent looked confused.

“How many?” Bucky asked. Sam was constructing his ice cream bowl. He topped it with whipped cream before he answered.

“Her entire right arm is covered. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but on her back was a portrait of Medusa.” Natasha’s stomach dropped. The ice cream she was eating no longer tasted sweet. It was bitter, and it made her stomach turn.

“Medusa?” Wanda questioned. “Are you sure?” Sam chuckled.

“Kind of hard to miss. It’s massive with all the snakes and shit. A little creepy if you ask me.”

“Why would she get a Medusa tattoo?” Rhodey asked. But Natasha knew. It seemed Wanda and Maria knew as well. The three girls dropped their bowls on the nearest surface and left the group. Each one ignored the shots of their names.

“FRIDAY, where is Jr?”

Your feet skimmed the water below. The cold summer air caused goosebumps to form on your arm. You had no reason to wear a jacket once you left the training area. If Sam knew everyone else was going to find out. “Hey, Jr,” Maria’s voice made you smile. “Can we join you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. Maria sat on your right and Wanda on your left. Natasha took the empty spot next to Maria. “They guys didn’t want to join you on a midnight walk.” You tried to joke.

“They are eating their weight in ice cream,” you heard the smile in Natasha’s voice. “I also don’t think they know what it means.” Right. The tattoo of Medusa is on your back, and her Roman story is detailed on your arm. Medusa was a devoted follower of Minerva. She left offerings and offerings to the goddess but was never acknowledged by her. Then, another god wanted her attention: Neptune. The god rapped Medusa in Minerva’s temple, and in revenge, the goddess turned Medusa’s beautiful head of hair into snakes.

“I don’t remember getting the tattoos,” you broke the silence. “I don’t remember much of my life before Nick found me.”

“He found you when you were 14, right?” Wanda questioned. You nodded.

“He says I had them when he found me,” you shivered and soon felt the jacket Maria was wearing around your shoulders. “He was in Ukraine, outside of Lviv, for a mission or something, when he found me in a field surrounded by dead bodies,” you played with the sleeves of the jacket. “We think they are the ones that hurt me. Nick took me in without hesitation. He saved my life,” you sighed, placing your head on Wanda’s shoulder. “I kept them hidden, not wanting people to question or bring attention to them.”

“You don’t have to hide them around us,” Maria said, slowly taking your hand in hers. “You can if you want, but we will never judge or hurt you like they did.”

“I could help you find answers if you ever want to know the truth,” Honestly, the truth scared you. You were already so broken. What if it broke you even more? “You are not broken,” Wanda whispered. It was hard for you to believe that.

“Sometimes I get flashes of what happened to me. Mostly in the form of nightmares. I’m not sure what’s worse than my body knows something bad happened to me, but my mind doesn’t remember it.”

“I think that you had to endure the pain, which is the worst,” Natasha spoke softly. You looked at the Black Widow, who was staring at the water. It was rare that her voice was that soft.

“Do you ever wonder why it was you?” you asked her. You watched her body shake as she exhaled. Maria placed her hand on Natasha’s thigh.

“All the time, but you’ll go mad thinking about the what ifs,” she glanced at you with a smile. “I’ve learned rather painfully that hiding away what happened or pretending it never happened hurts more in the long run.” The redhead placed her hand on top of Maria’s. “You aren’t broken, weak, or lesser because of what they did to you. You are stronger because you are still here despite all of it.” It was like she was telling you these things but reminding herself. You nodded and found yourself looking back at the water. The world was unfair, cruel, and twisted. These women, whom you grew to admire, knew the pain you experienced in some way and the story behind the tattoos that covered your body. How many others experienced it as well?

Hurried footsteps forced you to stand up and turn around. It was Bucky, and you were surprised by the force that he had hugged you, almost sending you into the water. Bucky was never known for his physical affection. He showed that he cared in much smaller ways, with a small smile and a cup of hot chocolate when you had nightmares. Even in training, he ensured your stance was correct and that you were training at your best. Now you weren’t sure if you could go a day without a hug from him. He was warm and strong, and you felt safe. “Do you know who did it?” Your body tensed.

“They are dead, Buck.”

“Good,” he kissed the top of your head. “I’d go Winter Solider on their asses for you, doll.” You laughed and shook your head. “Also, sorry about this.” Before you could question his meaning, he picked you up and threw you into the water. You breached the surface with a gasp.

“What the-”

“Cannonball,” you heard Tony yell. It was the only warning you got as the billionaire ran down the dock and jumped into the water. The splash wet those on the edge, and you heard Natasha yell at him. He resurfaced and shook the water.

“I am sorry, darling,” you watched Vision pick up Wanda.

“Vis, no! No!” But it was useless. The android dropped her into the water next. You laughed, the sound echoing into the night. Bucky smiled, gave you a salute, and jumped in. One by one, the team entered the water by either being thrown in or jumping themselves.

A massive water fight broke out, and FRIDAY brightened the surrounding area so everyone could see. You weren’t sure how long the team was in the water, but you were the last one floating on your back. “Hey, Jr,” you looked at Natasha. A towel was wrapped around her shoulders. “We are having smores. Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” you swam over to the dock and pulled yourself up. Natasha put her arm around you.

“I’m proud of you.” You smiled.

“I’m proud of you too.” Yes, the world was evil, cruel, and dark, but your family made it a little brighter.

#avengers x reader #nick fury x reader #maria hill x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bucky barens x reader

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nasuversekinkmeme · 11 months ago

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Weekly Roundup: Prompts

FSN

Illya/Rin, Comedy. Illyasviel experiences her own happy ending, a well deserved story in her book after a long and straining war. (if the pairing doesnt work then any other female character like artoria works? rin is best girl)

smut, Luvia/Rin, BDSM, dirty talk. Luvia has a tendency to tease Rin, saying all sorts of obscene things to her in an attempt to humiliate her. Embarrassing Rin was becoming a normal occurrence and Luvia was set on making the best out of her favorite pastime; toying with the object of her affections. [Bdsm/light bdsm, ropes? Clocktower shenanigans]

smut, Gilgamesh/Saber, "Only I can love her in all her destruction" (aka Gilgamesh somehow travels to Camelot and manages to corrupt Saber ala her Lion King persona [but still looking like her usual self]) +There's cunnilingus under the Round Table ++If Gil treats Saber's body count as dirty talk

The Gorgon sisters tend to Medusa as her transformation into full monster groes ever closer, accepting this as well as their ultimate fate together one last time

Fate/Samurai Remnant

Iori overstimulating Saber (don't worry, they're into it)

Rogue Saber watches as Iori, Rider, and Yui disappear through a portal to join Saber. Suddenly, he feels a burst of anger and longing and tries to join them only to be too late. Comfort from other servants if the writer would like.

FGO

Chaldean staff deserve more content, they also survivor and work hard

smut, Mephistopheles uses Afterimage to gangbang virgin!reader. Bonus points for Mephistopheles having a rapid weight gain kink, and EXTRA bonus points for (this part is the most important) genderfluid Mephistopheles

You have a Mastersona? Cool! What would happen if that Mastersona had a Shirou-Archer moment? What would drive the “Archersona”? How would the Mastersona react?

smut, Raikou pegs Lancelot. You can make it hard or gentle, plot or no plot, add on whatever flavor you want.

Crossover

(my brain has never been in crossover mode before, FGO x FFXIV) Fujimaru Ritsuka summons Fray Myste, who takes one look at the Last Master of Humanity and realizes they seriously need the conscience of a Dark Knight. "Serve, Save, Slave, Slay."

Bakugou Katsuki somehow got summoned as an Avenger for dumb reasons....

#weekly roundup

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fantastic-nonsense · 2 years ago

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For everyone who wants the explanation:

DC and Marvel Comics start doing variant covers in 1986, creating an inflationary industry bubble where speculators buy variants in the hopes of selling them later for boatloads of money.

The speculation bubble pops in the mid-90s, causing mass industry upheaval and the closure of several comic companies.

Marvel nearly declares bankruptcy in 1996. As part of the company's (successful) effort to save itself, it sells the adaptation rights for its most successful characters (Spider-man, the Fantastic Four, and the X-Men) to Sony and 20th Century Fox.

As a result, when Marvel is finally in a place to do its own movies, they only have adaptational access to the Avengers, several b-listers like Iron Man and Captain America, and a bunch of Marvel’s relatively non-profitable characters.

Disney buys Marvel in 2009 after the success of Iron Man and creates the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Disney hires Joss Whedon to helm Avengers (2012), which is a critical and commercial hit and launches the MCU into a global success story.

Whedon is re-hired to direct Avengers: Age of Ultron, which introduces Wanda and Pietro Maximoff (Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver). Due to Fox still owning the rights to the X-Men, Wanda and Pietro’s origins are changed. They’re introduced as non-mutant characters whose powers originate because of human experimentation with the Infinity Stone.

As part of the company’s attempt to draw in new comic readers by creating synergy between the MCU and the comics, Marvel retcons Wanda and Pietro Maximoff’s origins in the comics so that they are no longer Magneto’s children. This is incredibly unpopular with existing comic readers and doesn’t seem to draw in new readers, but the creative choice stands. This kickstarts a variety of changes (some small, some large) to various characters to align their comic depictions more closely with the MCU.

Because Disney does not own the adaptational rights to the X-Men and can't refer to 'mutants' in the MCU, they start pushing the Inhumans, a group largely associated with the Fantastic Four, over mutants in the comics in an attempt to create a viable alternative to the X-Men.

In the comics, Kamala Khan is introduced as an Inhuman and the new Ms. Marvel in 2014. She becomes one of Marvel’s major “legacy hero introduction” success stories. Critically, she's also the only major Inhuman besides Medusa and Daisy Johnson/Quake to actually gain any sort of traction with the public despite the Inhumans existing since the 1960s.

The Inhumans are introduced into the MCU via the Agents of SHIELD tv show in 2015. The MCU attempts to give them their own spin-off in 2017, which is a critical and commericial failure and is cancelled after one season.

The MCU debuts a Captain Marvel movie starring Carol Danvers in 2019. It’s a success, leading Kevin Feige to greenlight a sequel.

The MCU’s next movie, Avengers: Endgame, sets up a status quo that is conducive to introducing several younger legacy characters such as Kamala Khan.

Simultaneously, in the comics the X-Men and Marvel’s mutants enter “The Krakoan Era,” where all the mutants separate themselves from humanity, move to a sentient island called Krakoa, and create their own nation. This era has included the resurrection of several formerly dead mutant characters via the “Resurrection Protocols.” All mutants are functionally immortal at this point.

Disney buys 20th Century Fox in 2019. After the sale is completed, they gain back adaptational rights to the Fantastic Four and, more relevantly, the X-Men (and thus all of Marvel’s mutant characters).

When the MCU Ms. Marvel show comes out in 2022, Kamala Khan’s background is changed to make her a mutant, capitalizing on Disney’s new rights to the X-Men and making her the first mutant introduced into the MCU.

In 2023, Kamala Khan is randomly murdered in a Spider-man comic for shock value. Fans speculate that this is happening so Marvel can resurrect her on Krakoa and retcon her background, making her a mutant to create synergy with her MCU depiction and fold her into the X-books.

...also variant covers are once again alive and well and so is the speculation market (for both variant covers and major comic events like character introductions and deaths), meaning that her death is also probably partially fuelled by an attempt to appeal to that market. The comic industry has learned nothing from the 90s and we are all suffering for it.

I'm so tired

#kamala khan #ms. marvel #marvel fanwank #again: I'm so tired #long post #queue

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greatvintagetoys · 1 year ago

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Lockjaw and the Pet Avengers #1 CGC 9.6

Lockjaw and the Pet Avengers #1 is a comic book issue published by Marvel Comics in 2009. It is the first issue of a limited series that features a team of animal companions from the Marvel Universe embarking on a unique adventure. In Lockjaw and the Pet Avengers #1, written by Chris Eliopoulos with art by Ig Guara, Lockjaw, the teleporting dog and loyal companion of the Inhuman royal family, takes center stage. Lockjaw discovers that the powerful Infinity Gems have been scattered across the Marvel Universe, and he is determined to retrieve them. To accomplish this task, Lockjaw assembles a team of animal superheroes, known as the Pet Avengers. The team consists of Throg (a frog with the powers of Thor's enchanted hammer), Lockheed (a dragon associated with the X-Men's Kitty Pryde), Redwing (the falcon companion of the Falcon), Hairball (a feline with superhuman agility), and Ms. Lion (a small dog often seen with Aunt May Parker). In this first issue, Lockjaw recruits each member of the Pet Avengers and explains their mission to them. The team sets off on a quest to locate and retrieve the Infinity Gems before they fall into the wrong hands. Along the way, they encounter various obstacles and challenges, showcasing their unique abilities and personalities. Lockjaw and the Pet Avengers was praised for its lighthearted and adventurous tone, providing an entertaining and charming story that appealed to readers of all ages. The limited series ran for four issues and proved to be a fun and unique addition to the Marvel Universe, celebrating the bond between animals and their superhero owners.

Lockjaw and the Pet Avengers #1 CGC 9.6 CLICK HERE TO SEE ALL OF OUR AVAILABLE ITEMS WHO IS LOCKJAW? And what is his backstory? Lockjaw is a fictional character in the Marvel Comics universe. He is a giant, superpowered dog and a member of the Inhuman royal family. Created by writer Stan Lee and artist Jack Kirby, Lockjaw made his first appearance in Fantastic Four #45 in 1965. Lockjaw is an Inhuman, a race of genetically enhanced beings with various superhuman abilities. His primary power is teleportation, allowing him to instantly transport himself and others across vast distances. Lockjaw has a unique tuning fork-shaped antenna on his forehead, which activates his teleportation abilities when struck. In addition to teleportation, Lockjaw possesses enhanced strength, durability, and senses. He is highly intelligent and can understand and communicate with humans through a limited form of telepathy. Lockjaw is known for his loyalty, gentle nature, and his close bond with the Inhuman royal family, particularly with Black Bolt, Medusa, and Crystal. Lockjaw has appeared in numerous Marvel comics over the years, often serving as a companion and protector to the Inhumans. He has also made appearances in various animated adaptations and video games. Lockjaw's popularity has led to his own limited series, such as "Lockjaw and the Pet Avengers," where he teams up with other animal companions from the Marvel Universe on adventures. Lockjaw's unique abilities, endearing personality, and iconic design have made him a beloved character among Marvel fans, and he continues to be a fan-favorite member of the Inhuman royal family. Read the full article

#LockjawandthePetAvengers1 #LockjawandthePetAvengers1cgc #LockjawandthePetAvengers1graded #petavengers

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americancowgirl19 · 4 years ago

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Perfectly Beautiful

Summary: You’re one of the daughters of Medusa and you’re an Avenger. Someone you least expected makes you feel truly beautiful.

Warnings: None

Reader: Female Reader. Medusa’s Daughter.

Pairings: Loki x Medusa’s Daughter Reader

Word Count: 1,326

A/n: Enjoy!

Masterlist - Either Way (Sequel)

“Y/n... Why is Tony a statue?” Steve asks, coming into the kitchen where you’re peacefully sipping on coffee flipping through your favorite magazine. His eyes are glued on the statue of Tony. The billionaire is frozen in mid motion as if he were waving his hands while ranting.

“He wanted to try out his new glasses. He’s been trying to find a way to deflect my ability and has thus far been failing,” You explain, not taking your eyes off the page you had just turned too.

“And why is he still a stature?” Steve wonders.

“I didn’t feel like being interrogated about my abilities nor listening to his complaints about why he glasses won’t work,” You tell him. “I wanted a couple minutes of peace,”

“And how long has he been like this?”

“Three hours,” You respond, unapologetically. Steve bites back an amused smile and clears his throat.

“Mind releasing him? I need to talk to him about a mission,” Steve says, leaning against a nearby wall. You sigh dramatically.

“If I must...” You mutter standing up.

“Thank you,” Steve says but you merely wave him off. You walk up to Tony’s concrete statue and take a moment to savor the peace before kissing his stone lips. You step back and watch the statue turn into a man. Tony gasps in a breath when the transition completes.

“That was... rude,” Tony says. You wink at him and return to your seat. Before Tony could go off on a tangent, Steve pulls him away. You smile, shake your head and return to your book. You only get a few sentences in before you sense that you’re not alone.

You’re eyes glance up from the page and notice the god of mischief staring at you. His gaze is calculating and curious. You arch an eyebrow, silently wondering what questions are running through his head.

“Are you able to turn anything into stone?” Loki wonders, walking further into the kitchen. The Asgardian has been aiding the Avengers for a few months. While he’s been on multiple missions and such, there are some who are hesitant to call him an Avenger. Thor vouched for him, told the group that he hadn’t been in the right mindset during New York but few believed him. However, the god of mischief was proving to be useful and a good ally.

“Anything with eyes and a soul,” You told him. “Those with blindness are tricky for me,” You explain. You weren’t Medusa, just her daughter. You had inherited most of her abilities but you were still your own person and there was a difference between the two of you. You mother is mainly reptilian while your mainly human.

“And you can reverse the effects?” Loki questions.

“With a kiss,” You smirk slyly. “Very cliché if you ask me but I didn’t make the rules,” You shrug. The edge of Loki’s mouth lifts just a smudge. You find yourself briefly wondering what he would look like smiling broadly, even laughing obnoxiously like his brother. You wondered what he looked like without the weight of the world on his shoulders, a truly care free god of mischief.

“And your hair?” Loki asks, moving even closer. You stare at him for a moment, wondering where he was going with this.

You and your mother shared many things. You both had the same eyes, the same skin tone, and the same texture of hair. Texture of hair as in snakes. However, while your mother had so many snake in her hair you couldn’t care to count them all you only had about a dozen of them.

They’re live snakes. You can hear their thoughts in your mind. You can feel their fatigue and their anxiousness. You can see through their eyes and smell through their noses.

While the snakes are a part of you and you love them all dearly, they made many people uncomfortable. You’ve felt like an outcast your entire life, even when you’ve been apart of the Avengers for a few years. You knew your teammates cared about you, they’d protect you just as fiercely as the others. However, that didn’t stop the staring nor the obvious discomfort they felt whilst looking at them.

You’re not ashamed of your snakes, at least that’s what you tell yourself. You love your snakes but you feel self-conscious about the stares and the judgement. So, in order to avoid such things, you cover the snakes. You wrap them in a comfortable scarf and hide them unless your in your room or somewhere alone.

“What about it?” You question, Loki. The god moves until he’s right beside you.

“I can hear them, I can see them moving around,” Loki tells you. “Why do you hide them?” You stare into his eyes, not looking away as he takes a seat beside you. He moves the chair to the point where you’re legs are pressed together.

“There’s a few Ophidiophobic’s on the team,” You explain. He frowns his eyebrows. “People who are afraid of snakes,” You clarify.

“So, you hide yourself to make others comfortable?” He asks. You slowly nod. “Which leaves you uncomfortable,” He continues.

“At least their not staring or avoiding me,” You whisper. Loki’s lips press together. You’re eyes dart to his hand as he slowly raises it.

“Well, I am not an ophidiophobic,” He says, his voice low and tender. Your body tenses as he touches the wrap covering your snakes. The rustling under the fabric becomes more frantic as the snakes feed off of your anxiety. You wanted to stop Loki but you don’t. You just watch as he slowly unravels the scarf freeing the snakes.

You’re eyes downcast to the floor as you feel his eyes taking in the image of you. It’s the first time he’s seen you without the scarf. You didn’t want to see the same look in his eyes as everyone else.

It’s only a couple of minutes of silence. The only sound is the sound of your snakes hissing and slithering around. After a few moments, a blue hand gently cups your chin and raises your head.

You gasp softly when you look into the red eyes of Loki. You observe the blueness of his skin and how different yet similar he looks. His hand moves from your chin to your cheek. His knuckles brush against your skin lightly.

“Beautiful,” He whispers. You notice the snakes closest to his hand slither forward and rub against his skin. Loki smiles, watching them fondly.

“They like you,” I whisper, his eyes returning to mine.

“Don’t hide from me,” He pleads. “Your beauty is in your difference from the others. Should they stare then they should stare in jealousy that they will never posses the beauty you do,”

“I have reptiles for hair,” You laugh sadly.

“You have the softest skin and the most beautiful eyes and the most unique hair,” Loki tells you. “It is an honor to be able to look upon them,” He says, his eyes going back to the snakes that seemed to be entirely entranced with him. “Everything about you is magnificent, it is a shame you feel as if you should hide such beauty from the world... It truly is dimmer without your smile,”

“Since when did you go from Mr. I’m Going to Conquer the Earth to Mr. I’m Going to Woo the Snake Girl?” You ask, trying to break up the seriousness with some humor.

“Since I became hopeful that the Snake Girl could look at me as I look at her,” Loki whispers. “You’re so beautiful, love. I would be honored if you would allow me to spend time with you and convince you of that fact,”

“Do you know what you’re getting into?” You whisper.

“Hopefully a relationship with the most beautiful Avenger,” Loki smirks, winking at you. You smile, letting out a small laugh.

“Who woulda thought you’d be a flirt?”

#loki x reader #loki #loki odison x reader #x fem!reader #female!reader #avengers #x avengers!reader #medusa #medusa!reader #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Thor Odinson #Odinson

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ussgallifrey · 3 years ago

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(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder [MasterList]

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren't entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Greek mythology, language, long fic, slow burn, superhero!Reader.

✦ Word Count: ~415 - 550k

✦ Story Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Face Claims: Part One || Part Two

Saints, Feints ↬ Minerva / Just a Girl / Young God ↫ - Ch. 01: Agent Seven - Ch. 02: On Thin Ice - Ch. 03: The Retreat

Couldn't Hold Me Back ↬ Seven Nation Army / Fight Like a Girl / Glory and Gore / Centuries ↫ - Ch. 04: Coulson in Kolkata - Ch. 05: Reunions - Ch. 06: Shattered Illusions - Ch. 07: Double O Seven - Ch. 08: Assemble - Ch. 09: Seeing Double - Ch. 10: Parting of Ways

In The Age of Icons ↬ Start a War / Feel Something / Silvertongue / Immortals ↫ - Ch. 11: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot - Ch. 12: Matter of Trust - Ch. 13: A Wanted Man - Ch. 14: Allied Assistance - Ch. 15: The Causeway - Ch. 16: Welcome to Olympus - Ch. 17: In The Arena - Ch. 18: A New Mission Begins

And You Decided This ↬ Hide & Seek / Northern Lights / The Archer / Ophelia / Medusa / Golden / Style / I'm With You ↫ - Ch. 19: On The River Vistula - Ch. 20: Legends and Legions - Ch. 21: A Party to Remember - Ch. 22: Breaking and Entering - Ch. 23: Abominations - Ch. 24: Going Off-Grid - Ch. 25: Safety in Numbers - Ch. 26: Sokovia - Ch. 27: Moving On

In Search of Your Glory ↬ The Last of the Real Ones / Sunlight / Athena / King and Lionheart / The Night We Met ↫ - Ch. 28: A Sense of Normalcy- Ch. 29: Ultimate Ultimatums - Ch. 30: Between the Crosshairs - Ch. 31: When Faced with a Choice - Ch. 32: Arrest of an Icon - Ch. 33: Devil in Hell - Ch. 34: Broken Bonds - Ch. 35: No Trust - Ch. 36: Where Loyalty Goes to Die

The Future's In Our Hands ↬ Dear Fellow Traveler / She Lit a Fire / Like I Can / Foreigner's God / Things We Lost in the Fire ↫ - Ch. 37: Diverging Lines - Ch. 38: This Is No Man - Ch. 39: A Train to Knowhere - Ch. 40: Crash Landing - Ch. 41: Charge - Ch. 42: The Cost - Ch. 43: Adrift - Ch. 44: Ill Tidings - Ch. 45: The Council

A Sinner Like Me ↬ Hello My Old Heart / Never Let Me Go / I Found / I Need My Girl / Broken / Heavenly / Angela / Battle Born / Hold My Girl / Constellations / Electric Love ↫ - Ch. 46: Royal Responsibilities - Ch. 47: Crenzalon IV - Ch. 48: Long Overdue - Ch. 49: Star-Bound - Ch. 50: A Promise

'Til The Day's End ↬ Bird Song / Infinity / Glitter & Gold / In Our Bedroom After the War / Spark ↫ - Ch. 51: Just Visiting - Ch. 52: Stranger Than Fiction - Ch. 53: Come Together - Ch. 54: Planning For The End of The World - Ch. 55: Down The Rabbit Hole - Ch. 56: Whatever It Takes

Last Updated: August 7, 2024

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fan fic #my fic #series: shameless wonder

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years ago

Note

Hello beautiful, remember me? The one who asked for bubbles baths? i loved that so much !? I was wondering if I could ask for the reactions of the same Tolkien characters if the reader dies this time (oh aangst continuing on from with i n n their relationship from the buble baths ). If not it's all good in da hood. 🥰

Dearest anon, you did a 180 here, huh? I, of course, remember you...🥰🥰🥰

-> Link to the original (happy, fluffy, cracky) ask

That was a hard one for me, I won't lie...

so @kibleedibleedoo, here's my very soft angst, nothing too extreme.

@medusas-hairband, @eunoiaastralwings, here's the second (much darker) part of the ask you were so good to help me with lol

Words: 3,3k

Characters: Thorin x reader, Dwalin x reader, Elu Thingol x reader, Caranthir x reader, Ulmo x reader

Warnings: slight angst, character death, reference to injury and illness

Disclaimer: Not only do I not know the characters very well, but I also am NOT an angst writer, so please be kind and lenient!

Ficlets under the cut ⬇️

Thorin

“Don’t…” the king huffed, his usually so strong voice wavering like the flickering candle-light painting scenes of a world to come onto the bleak walls of your small chamber.

“You cannot command death, Thorin,” you smiled softly; the wounds sustained in a skirmish with roving Orcs were too deep even for his skilled healers, and all the gold in Arda would not buy you a single second more than was allotted to you by fate.

“I refuse,” he bellowed, despair turning his eyes as dark as the night sky, “I object! I am the king and I forbid you to die!”

In his eyes, you could read how desperately he tried to convince himself of his delusion as his hands closed tenderly around your upper arms. You could see him move, but your skin had already grown too cold and numb to really feel the touch you had always enjoyed so.

“Be strong,” you wheezed and coughed faintly, “be brave! I will wait for you beyond the veil.”

“It should have…I should have…” he stammered, the frenzy of his helpless, powerless panic clear in the way his fingers clenched and unclenched in irregular intervals.

You had led the life of a warrior by the side of your king, and you had nothing to regret now that you died a hero’s death in the chambers you had shared with the one they called ‘Oakenshield’ still.

“You cannot yield,” he barked but the softness of his massive palm against your brow – cold and clammy with a sheen of sweat – belied his superficial fury, “I do not know how to go on without you.”

“I…” breathing became increasingly hard, “I loved you best. You, the people, the kingdom.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath that sounded like the wind rattling a broken window and tasted like blood and mud.

“Honour me by taking care of these.”

When he nodded solemnly, you added: “In that order, Thorin!”

He would be devastated, you knew, for he was a dwarf of a possessive, jealous nature when it came to his personal treasures, and he was loath to even consider losing them.

At the same time, his strength of mind and willpower were unparalleled, and he would not be alone and forsaken in his grief; you had to trust that his sister and his friends would find a way to tease that ancient fire back into roaring flame.

“I shall hunt them down and make them suffer,” he promised then, his eyes flashing like his sword and swirling with light and colour like the Arkenstone, “you will be avenged.”

“I love you,” you whispered; your lips felt stiff and cold around the words that suddenly seemed too big and unwieldy to speak, but he had heard you utter this truth – in whispers and ecstatic screams – often enough to understand it in his heart even when his ears could barely make out the garbled sounds.

“Farewell, Thorin,” you mouthed; there was no pain now, only peace, and the air held the crisp aroma of pine needles and fresh summer wind.

“You disobedient wretch,” Thorin sobbed in a choked voice, “how I have loved you. I wish I could have kept the dangers creeping in the darkness at bay to preserve your light…”

He might have said many things beyond that, but blessed silence blanketed your senses now and the last and only thing you clutched to your stuttering heart as you departed this life of sorrow and love was the memory of his sad, beautiful smile as his eyes met yours for the final time.

Dwalin

It was so cold, you thought hazily, it was so terribly cold, and night had fallen so fast.

“Don’t move,” Dwalin – beloved, sturdy, reliable Dwalin – grumbled as his heavy, broad hand settled on your shoulder, “I’ll take you home…in a minute.”

You could feel the warm wetness under you congeal into a lake of cool, sticky jelly; it had been your own fault, reckless and daring, you had challenged him to a rock-climbing expedition from which you would, in all likelihood, never return.

Had it been the fell shadow swooping down on you or a moment of inattention – distracted by the rolling muscles under his worn tunic – for which you were to blame?

Either way, your hand had slipped, and you had fallen – long and deep – until your body was shattered on a rocky outcropping; you had lost consciousness then for you knew not how long, until Dwalin – soaking wet with transpiration and panting heavily – had appeared, his hands bloody and torn from his hasty, heedless descent.

His eyes flitted over you with dizzying speed, never resting on one particular part of your form for too long, and his reticence to even catalogue your injuries or treat them, beyond the tunic he had spread over you to stave off the biting chill of the night air, made you understand that they were beyond repair.

As you tried to speak, your tongue was stuck against the dry palate of your mouth and so you merely groaned; the pain – flowing like fire through your veins – made you feel as if you were spinning wildly in an abyss of flame and whipping chains.

“In a minute,” he repeated, stroking your hair tenderly while tears – opaque with sweat and dirt – rolled noiselessly down his bearded cheeks, “no doubt, the princes will come looking for us! They’ll help me bring you back home.”

It had been hours, you remembered blurrily, you had been hiking to this remote area for hours; it was highly improbable that anyone would search for you before morning light, and even then, it was outright unlikely that they’d find you. Cowering hidden on the small ledge only barely perceptible from the steep slopes of the mountain, you were all but invisible and definitely unreachable to whatever rescue party potentially sent out for you.

“I’m here,” he babbled on, and his voice sounded like the gravel under his heavy boots as he scooted closer to you, effectively shielding you by hunching around you like a wild beast protecting its fallen mate. Maybe, that was exactly what you were.

Again and again, you tried to speak or move, desperate to tell him not to worry, but it seemed that your earthly shell had already assumed the position of burial – still and rigid – no matter how frantically you attempted to shatter the broken cocoon stifling your thoughts into silence.

I love you, you thought, don’t cry, but no sound breached your stiff, numb lips.

“Oh, you’ll be alright,” Dwalin whispered, “but there will be no more rock-climbing!”

There wouldn’t, you well knew that, there would be no more winter walks either, or late nights in a tavern laughing about bad jokes while drinking watered-down ales. Gone and lost were the nights spent in his strong arms, his tender kisses weaving an ephemeral garment of love and starlight around your limbs; your memories blurred into a blinding light that cleaved your hazy mind like Dwalin’s axes could hew through wood and flesh alike.

It pained you that a single moment – so brief and so irrelevant in the big picture of your life together – would deprive you of the love, deep and enduring as the mountain you were perishing on, of that noble dwarven warrior weeping by your side.

The broken, flashing throbs of anger and hurt rattling around your immobile body like shards of glass in a broken crate or snowflakes drifting in a winter storm abated into dull fatigue as the moments ticked by; you were no longer feeling cold, you were merely tired.

“In a minute,” Dwalin said a third time, but his voice sounded muffled and far away now; you were not even given the chance to say goodbye or to release him from that minute that would stretch on endlessly until it had devoured the rest of his life.

Hours, minutes, seconds became meaningless as they contracted and settled into your frozen flesh heavily.

The last thought you could cobble together before the darkness gaped open and engulfed you was ‘good night’ because – even now – ‘farewell’ was a thing too dreadful to even think.

Elu Thingol

“You cannot be serious,” Elu Thingol – who had the world at his feet and the threads of centuries wrapped around his long fingers – gasped as he saw you, shivering and weak, stretched out like a ghost on the soft sheets of your bed furnishings, “this is ridiculous.”

Death was a concept that was strange and distasteful to him; he, who had travelled beyond the confines of the world known to you and who trusted that he’d find himself in those sacred lands once more, could not fathom the bleak truth of someone vanishing like a candle snuffed out by a gust of wind.

“Don’t struggle,” you said quietly as if it was him and not you battling the shadows creeping in, eager to devour your flesh and bone and turn them into ash and dust.

You felt for him; unable to truly die, Elu Thingol – Elwë, the timeless – was the cracked vessel of the poison following the sting: grief.

It was his fate – whether this was a curse or benediction only Eru knew – to be the living, breathing, eternal memorial of those who had been whisked away to places beyond his reach.

Long was his memory and deep was his pain, and you hated yourself for adding to the agony that choked and dimmed the light of his eyes.

“We could heal you,” he grunted, but he knew very well that all his healers had already exhausted their powers; all they had done though was to prolong your suffering as the rot overtaking your body was only ever stayed but never eradicated.

“When the world is remade,” you murmured, “we shall be together once more; until then, I bid you farewell, esteemed king, cherished protector, and beloved soul.”

“Don’t,” he cried out – all the power in his blood rushing to the surface in what looked to you like a flash of blinding light – as he lifted you into his arms, “don’t leave me! Will all I’ve ever cherished be torn from me?”

Looking up into his beautiful face, radiant with a light he had managed to find where it had no reason to be, you had to concede that it must have been unbearably hard to be impervious to sickness and hurt on the surface while your soul was in the throes of deep agony.

“Remember me,” you choked out, “and the frailty of life, beauty, and love.”

A part of you knew that he would not heed your words; it was in his nature to hold on too tightly and squeeze whatever blessing was resting in his hands through his clenched fingers until he found his palms empty and smeared with the blood of what he had so tried to save.

He was glorious and – after the gnawing ailment had robbed you of nearly all the light you had ever possessed yourself – you were convinced that it would be his radiance that greeted you at the end of the long tunnel from which you would emerge – renewed and hale – at long last.

“Do not mourn me,” you went on, forcing your voice to be the trembling violin that accompanied your inevitable departure, “don’t let it make you bitter. Live as you were always supposed to and be brave in the face of seemingly impossibly daunting challenges.”

Your numb fingers clawed themselves into his long, silver hair as your head drooped weakly against his chest; life was draining out of you to pool – unheeded and shimmering – at his hallowed feet. The earth would drink up your essence and make new flowers bloom in his protected realm; the thought of staying with him – in all the manifold fragments and moods of your soul – comforted you now that the fatal moment had come.

“I beg you,” Thingol whispered as his arms tightened around the hollow shell that had once been a body flourishing with brimming, thrumming, invincible life.

As was his destiny, his pleas came too late and would bear no fruit though, and your serene slipping away was marred by a tinge of bitter regret as your last smile broke midway, leaving Thingol with the sharp-edged shards of loss and the biting knowledge that he had been robbed.

Caranthir

“You will not come back,” you whispered, touching a hesitant hand to that handsome face you had loved so well, “and we shall not meet again in this life.”

“I shall,” Caranthir hissed sharply, but – in his eyes – you could clearly discern that he dreaded himself the moment his fate – and that Oath that bound his soul in unbreakable chains – would overtake him.

Before he could say anything else, you lifted your other hand to stay his words of love and promise.

“They are your brothers, and you owe them allegiance,” you said gently, pressing a kiss onto the white-knuckled hand now clasped tightly around your own as if to keep you by his side, “I know the forces that drive you; they have ever been the shadow on my every sunny day and the starless void swirling in my night sky.”

You sighed; you had not been granted the gift of foresight and yet, you knew with appalling certainty that this would be the last time you laid eyes upon the angry, helpless flush covering the unbearably handsome face of your beloved Lord with these eyes.

“I am bound to you,” you went on, trying to comfort him, “and your crimes are mine.”

“You shall not be judged for my trespasses,” he roared, his hands scrabbling frantically across your pleated robes now to find purchase, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d fight the Valar themselves for your sake if it came down to it.

“Are you telling me that your wicked cunning knows boundaries, Moryo? Are you insinuating that you would be unable to find me when your destiny is finally full wrought?”

He pondered in brooding silence for a few seconds; the fierce frown and the pinched lips only made him more statuesquely beautiful, and your heart clenched in silent longing.

“They might keep you from me as punishment for what we are about to do…” he then whispered and the weariness weighing down his tone cut through you like a blade.

“You’ve gone down a path sketched out by another’s hand for too long to turn back now, beloved,” you smiled wistfully, “and I promise that I’ll be waiting at the end of it.”

Taking his pale hands into your own and brushing your lips against his in a last effort to stem the tide of his persuasive speech, you pulled him into a tight embrace, unable to find words that would counteract the spell his love had cast upon you.

“Let me go join the widows and mothers; we both know that even the sons of Fëanor cannot outrun, outsmart, or outman fate! Have you ever come home from battle and not found me waiting?”

“No,” he admitted, his eyes darkening into the shade of empty, bleak doom spreading on the horizon of your shared life.

“Different as our paths may be – mine being one of dignified fading and yours leading through fire and blood – I truly have faith that they’ll lead to the same place in the end. The day has broken, love, and it is time to go.”

One last passionate, desperate kiss later, he got up and dressed in sullen silence.

“Until we meet again,” he rasped, his hand tight around the pommel of his sword.

“Until we meet again,” you echoed, “ride to – if not a glorious – at least a valiant conclusion to this wretched chapter in a never-ending story.”

“You are leaving,” he smiled with a sadness that was always lingering just beneath the surface, “and – whatever is to come – I shall not be afeared for I am eager to return to your arms.”

With him gone, you sunk back against the pillows still holding the echo of his scent and closed your eyes, giving yourself over to the cold but welcome embrace of death.

Ulmo

“This is the way things go,” you sighed, sitting by the shore that had been your home for so many years, “and I am unafraid.”

A soft smile passed over your face; you had spent too many afternoons in Ulmo’s company to dread what was to come for you had faith – having seen one of the great Powers with your own unworthy eyes – and you accepted your mortal fate unconditionally.

“I will not give you up!”

The gurgling words whispering like the wings of unseen seabirds sounded strangely petulant for a being who knew everything and had nothing to fear.

“Where I go, you cannot follow me,” you laughed but your voice was diluted in the insistent howling of the wind; you knew that you were dying, you had felt the darkness creep into your bones and slowly paint your body from the inside out until you were naught but a shadow of your former self.

Dark swaths of otherworldly wrath gathered ominously – the tears of which you’d never feel on your wilted face – and, despite the chill of the grey afternoon, you wanted your last moments to take place here.

Reclining onto the moss covering the sharp rocks, you looked up into the sky – swirling with those clouds in the shape of all you had ever loved and admired – and made your peace with leaving this world behind forevermore.

“You will not leave,” the same ethereal voice – pebbles clicking in the stream of a jauntily leaping river – replied adamantly, “I won’t let you!”

Your head turned slowly as something cold started prickling in the palm of your outstretched hand.

“Do you remember?” He was mourning already, you realised, his tone deep and hollow like the unexplored abyss in which he reigned supreme.

Your fingers – thin and brittle like twigs drifting on the ocean – twitched as you saw the tiny, pristine bubbles popping merrily in your worn palm. Only now did you hear the angry crashing of the waves against the cliffs; Ulmo had whipped the ocean into a frenzy, lathering plants and swirling up soil to create a semblance of the stupid soap bubbles you had shown him long years ago.

What devastation would follow for the fishermen and farmers? The thought but caressed your mind, a shadow of guilt for the shared grief for one as inconsequential as you.

“I do remember,” you croaked; your limbs felt heavy and numb with cold and fatigue, but you tried to hold on to this last conversation a little longer.

“Will you do me one last favour?”

“Anything!” You had nothing to lose anymore; where you were headed, your riches, your pride, your very existence would be forfeit.

“Give yourself over to me,” he prompted softly and – as impossible as it seemed – warm water embraced you as soon as you had managed a faint nod, lifting you up as if you were as fragile and ephemeral as the dying foam in your hand.

Which you were, at least to him.

Dying, you cared not to which place you’d be whisked away; you had been blessed with experiences so extraordinary in life that you would have accepted an eternity of dull nothingness as counterbalance.

Sweet calm washed over you, drowning you in memories of bliss, before oblivion cradled you in her warm arms as you felt the weight of the world be muffled by a heavy wall of water that swallowed you eagerly.

“You shouldn’t have,” a foreign, enchantingly melodious voice drifted into your now quickly fading conscience while you sunk ever downwards.

“A grave is a grave,” your lifelong friend replied quietly and then, warm, wet sand was heaped upon your unfeeling body like a blanket of tender love.

So, there we are, tiny angst and dead readers...

I have tried my best to do as many different reasons and ways and reactions as I could think of; I hope you like this, dearest anon...

Other than that, I hope you all enjoyed this venture into unusual territory and - if so - I'd love you forever if you could comment/reblog.

Thank you so much!!!

Lots of love from me <3

#fanfiction #request #ask #IDNMT answers #the hobbit #the silmarillion #silm #hobbit #Thorin #dwalin #elu thingol #caranthir #ulmo #x reader #i hope you like this anon #TW: death #angst #hurt no comfort

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

🪴🔮 Masterlist 🗡🪷

Marvel

The Last Chthonian: Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 . Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16 , Part 17 , Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

The Medusa of Hydra: Bucky x Reader, Matt Murdock x Reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6

Nemesis: Origins: Loki x Reader

Prologue, Part 1 , Part 2

Gods and Monsters: Moon Knight, Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader

Part 1 , Part 2

Rise and Shine Brown Eyes: Frank Castle x Wife!Reader

Preferences

Avengers/Marvel Preference: When you get sick

X-Men

Charles x Reader, Erik x Reader, Logan x Reader

Avengers Chatroom

Nicknames

The Culprit

What the Hair

A Film

Imagines/One Shot

Tony Stark: His experiment goes berserk on you

Stranger Things

Crimson and Clover: Eddie Munson x Reader

Part 1 , Part 2

Twilight

Jasper Hale

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6, Part 7

Star Wars

Pale Rider: Din Dijarin x Reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

Grishaverse

With Fire and Blood, and the Darkness in Between: General Kirigan x Targaryen!Reader

Part 1 , Part 2

Call of Duty

Wild Horses (Simon “Ghost” Riley and other characters x Doctor!Reader)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

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cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 1 year ago

Note

How about Medusa and Gorgon with love prompt 36? Medusa and Gorgon deserve more love.

I agree upon that, Medusa and Gorgon best snek's!

Fair warning, things got a tad steamier that my usual style for Gorgon, nothing too NSFW but there are... implications.

NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

Medusa

You hated it when Medusa talked bad about herself.

Especially when she was having a good day.

Very few things made you more angry than seeing such a wonderful, beautiful, and brilliant woman talk down to herself.

And for some reason, today was when you finally had enough of it.

And so, without thinking about how she could easily splat you against the wall with a flick of her wrist, you grabbed her by the chin.

And then you kissed her.

Full on the lips, no holds barred.

You wanted her to know just how she made you feel, and just what you thought about her always talking bad about herself.

And Medusa loved it, she was enraptured as you kissed her, it was something she had wondered if you would do, and she could confidently say that the real thing was far better than her dreams.

Though she was still surprised, after all, who would want someone as big as-

“That’s enough of that, I already know what you're thinking right now, and if you really want an answer, I do, I’m someone who wants you just as you, no one else. Medusa, I am so in love with you, and I can’t stand when you talk down to yourself.”

It took a moment for Medusa to register those words and their meanings.

You… loved her? Why?

“It’s because you are perfect, you’re smart, cool, sassy, and funny you’re also hopeless and a giant nerd and really, really, not used to talking to regular people, and I love you, I love all of you.”

Gorgon

The monster of the shapeless isles had no idea what mania over took you to make you worship her like a Goddess.

You offered her the first pick of every meal, the first warm bath with water you drew for the express purpose of bathing her, The finest clothing you could give her, the most wonderful and strange devices from this modern world.

And books, as many books as she could read and more.

Did you not know the value these things had?

And why did you waste them on her?

She would demand an explanation from you, and she expected only the truth, lest Gorgon decided to unleash the burning pain of the emotions throbbing in her chest upon you.

And so, that night, she “Asked” you what all of these gifts and tributes were for.

Also, by asked I mean she forced you up against the wall and looked you in the eyes as she demanded.

“Human! Why do you worship a monster like me as a Goddess? Answer me now before I rend you limb from limb!”

During the time it took you to formulate an answer Gorgon reveled in the emotions that shot across your face, emotions that she decided were hers the moment she saw them.

“T-to begin with it was because you needed to pass as a regular person but after that…” you trailed off, a pretty red on your face.

“Well? I haven’t got all night human, and the more you test my patience the more I feel like I will exact the repayment for your tribute upon you by force.” Gorgon threatened you without thought, not entirely sure what she meant by “repayment” though more than a few rather raunchy ideas were floating through her head.

“I-it was because I got a crush on you! T-t-then it became… more than… a… harmless… little… crush… I fell so in love with you it hurt to be away from you, even knowing you would never reciprocate!” you answered to Gorgon honestly in fear for your own life, but quite unsure if this was any better.

Still, at least you would die with a clear conscience.

You dared to look up at Gorgon who looked… confused?

The two of you stood like that for a moment, then it all began to go down hill, or uphill depending upon your perspective.

Gorgon raised her hand to your face, slowly, torturously slow.

“Oh human, you really, really, shouldn’t have said that~!” Gorgon whispered darkly into your ear, her hair serving as a curtain to sever the world around the two of you.

You swallowed deeply, so this was it, dying at the hands of such a beautiful woman, there were worse ways to go.

“Because now… you. Are. allllllllll. Mine~ My wonderful love. First things first though. It’s time for you to receive your repayment for your tribute, I do hope your body can keep up." The beautiful monster continued to whisper as her other hand drug itself up your leg, up your stomach, up your chest and up your throat before resting on the opposite side of where her other hand sat.

You got the feeling you would wake up very, very tired tomorrow.

#fgo x yn #gorgon x reader #medusa avenger x reader #medusa rider x reader #medusa avenger #medusa x reader #medusa rider #fate grand order x reader #fate grand order #fate series #fate go #fgo fate grand order #fate x reader #fate

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221bshrlocked · 4 years ago

Text

Show Me Your True Colors

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 14092 (I swear this was supposed to be a short oneshot but it got out of hand. I'm so so sorry.)

Warnings: 28% smut, 72% plot. Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Oral (male and female receiving). Fingering and Squirting due to overstimulation. Some dom/sub elements but not full-on. Creampie. Rough handling (e.g. hair-pulling, spanking, hand-binding, some more hair-pulling). I think that's all?!

Inspired by these posts [x] [x] and by this lovely artist. Thanks @danniburgh for humoring me with my thots.

A/N: I came back from my temporary hiatus to post this because I couldn't wait. And now I shall return to my little corner again. Sorry guys these school/administrative issues are taking longer to deal with so I'm for the most part still away. This is not beta'd. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments please and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy. And you can add yourself to the taglist here.

It’s such a different atmosphere, from what he remembers at least. It’s been so long since he stepped foot on a university campus, and he can’t help but smile at the spectrum of personalities all around him. While some students lounge underneath the trees and on the grass, others ran hastily to their courses. Those were probably freshmen.

As he makes his way through the campus, he has to look at his phone numerous times to figure out where exactly he was going. That’s definitely one thing he didn’t miss about being in school, the fact that he was shit in directions and how he almost always got lost during the beginning of each semester.

When he does finally find the art history department, he silences his phone and heads to the first office he can find.

“Good afternoon, my name is Nicola. How can I help you?”

“Hi Nicola, I’m here to see Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you could direct me to her office please?” Marcus smiles as he unbuttons his suit jacket, not realizing that his FBI tag was now visible to the world.

“She’s currently in one of her lectures, you could-” Marcus follows Nicola’s line of sight when she grows quiet and groans when he sees that she noticed his FBI tag.

“Please, she’s not in trouble. I am part of the FBI Art Crime Team, and I’m actually coming to ask if we could get her professional opinion on an artifact. Just need her to consult on something.” He smiles at Nicola and waits for her expression to relax before he continues.

“Do you mind telling me which lecture hall she’s in?”

“Y-yes, she’s in H140. Make a right at the door and it’s the hall all the way at the end.”

“Thank you Nicola, have a good day.” Marcus nods at her before he buttons his jacket again to avoid any suspicious, terrified looks as he makes his way to the lecture hall. He walks quietly, avoiding the students walking past him as they exit the rooms. When he reaches the door, he turns the knob slowly to not make any noise, hoping that he wasn’t being too disruptive once he walks in. As he shuts it behind him and looks around, his eyes almost fall out of their sockets.

There are at least 250, maybe 300 students filling the seats of the room. He awkwardly smiles when some students look to the side and see him standing at the foot of the door. He quickly takes a seat and says nothing as the students return their attention to the large projected screen. Marcus hears what he assumes is your voice through the large speakers but he can’t place your position. As he looks at the projected images, he finally catches you through his peripheral vision as you step off the railing near the exit doors at the front of the room.

“Because of this association with the gods, many amulets used to ward off the evil eye include depictions of mythological figures and deities who are almost, if not always, female. To the Greeks and Romans, the most common fascinations with an evil eye were women in any shape or form. They were thought to have the most powerful and harmful gaze that might kill if eye contact was established. That’s basically me telling you to never look me in the eye or else I will curse the cow of your second cousin twice removed.” Laughter reverberates off the walls at your joke and only grows louder when you whisper, “just kidding...or am I?” Marcus can’t help but smile at your jokes, watching with fascination as you move up and down the stairs of one side of the lecture hall once you continue to speak.

“Now, I know what some of you are thinking...isn’t that a bit sexist? Well, to the ancients, no. And to us, it’s kind of a meh thing. I know that doesn’t sound very feminist of me but it all comes down to the culture and the ancient practices that carried over. Just remember that it wasn’t because they were women, it was because they were thought to be powerful...a glass half-full kinda thing.” Marcus watches you closely as you maintain your focus on the students before you switch the slide and stand in the middle of the stairway with your back towards the projector.

“So, we find goddesses such as Erinnyes or the Furies associated with the evil eye because of their avenging nature. Their heads were covered in serpents and their eyes were always bloodshot and one of the Furies by the name of Megaera was considered in late antiquity as the personification of envy and whose eyes were the most envious and deadly of all the Furies. She was described by poets as baskanon omma pherousa...bearing the evil eye. Naturally, many children in late antiquity constantly wore amulets of stone galactite to protect them from the eyes of Megaera, and sometimes even wore necklaces with her face on it to counteract the evil eye of someone else and have her curse the ones who tried to harm them. Basically, the ancients were playing a game of tag with the evil eye.” You descend the stairs and walk to the other side of the hall, and Marcus feels his chest tighten with how much confidence you exude, not just through your words but with how you carry yourself as well.

“Perhaps the most famous of these dangerous women is Medusa who was one of the Gorgones in Greek mythology. The Gorgones were one of many female beings such as the Harpies, the Erinnyes, the Graiae, and the Keres, who were said to be grim-faced, and who held horrible looks. Briefly, the story tells of how she was one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth and later became hateful-looking by Athena as punishment for being raped by Poseidon in the middle of the huntress’ temple. Her hair became serpents and she was so furious that anyone who would look at her would turn into stone...at least that is the version you will hear from the “all-knowing” male scholars within this field. But, and I know I’m going on a rant here, if you’re like me, you’re more likely to argue that Athena pretended to hate Medusa. The serpents were no punishment! The goddess looked at the poor woman and gave her a weapon to use against men because unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything to avenge her...not only because she didn’t get along with Poseidon but also because he was a god as well. Anyway, back to Medusa’s amazing power which I would love to have so I could use it whenever I’m talking to some professors in this department...don’t quote me on that.” Again, Marcus chuckles at your side commentary and notices how calm and enjoyable the atmosphere of the lecture is. If only he had professors like you when he was in university.

“Even after she was decapitated by Perseus, her powers were very much alive and it is said that Athena placed Medusa’s image on her shield, once Perseus returned it, in order to use it when she hunted. This suggests that depictions of her severed head held apotropaic power and like earlier, one could use a creature who held the power of the evil eye against another being who is said to use the evil eye. Following this principle of similia similibus, it is not surprising that most of the amulets found in Greece and Rome contained illustrations of Medusa’s decapitated head on them. What was once the possessor of the evil eye became a protective symbol against the very same thing.” Just as you are about to continue with the next image, an alarm goes off and Marcus frowns in shock at how inconsiderate it was that phones weren’t silenced. But his surprise only heightens when he sees you running down the steps to your desk and picking up the phone sitting in the middle of the table.

“Ahhhh man, we were just about to get to the cavalier. That’s okay. Remember, the second response is due first thing on Friday. If you can’t turn it in during class, shoot me an email and we can work something out with my TAs. Go forth my clever spawns!” Marcus stands up and glues himself to the wall when he sees students emptying the lecture hall, his eyes on your form at the front of the class. He hopes you don’t leave out of the front exit and begins to make his way to you through the multitude of undergrads leaving. When he reaches your desk, he stands to the side until you finish chatting with one of the students and begins to collect your work.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Please, it’s just Y/N. Who are you and how can I help you today?” You almost do a double take when you look up from your bag and see the man standing in front of you. To say that you were starstruck by the man in front of you would have been the understatement of the century.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike,” he holds out his FBI tag for you and watches as you raise an eyebrow at him before you swing your bag across your shoulders and motion for him to follow you out of the hall.

“I would like to put it on record that I do not, in fact, wish to turn any of my colleagues to stone.” You joke, and Marcus senses that you are perhaps nervous at seeing his tag.

“Believe me, I would like to do that to some of mine as well...but no, not why I’m here.” Marcus clips the tag below his jacket as he walks with you.

“May I ask what I have done that caught the FBI’s attention?” You walk ahead of him, and ask him if it was okay for him to head over to your office with you.

“I’m with the FBI Art Crime Team and I’m here on a request. We would like to consult you on an open investigation and I came here to ask what your availability is.” Marcus follows you up the stairs, barely forcing his eyes to remain on your feet instead of elsewhere.

“Oh, me? That’s...wow. Of all the things I thought I would accomplish in my life, that’s definitely not one of them. May I ask what it is you need my opinion on?” You push open the doorway of the staircase and point at your office across the quiet hall.

“Unfortunately, there is a lot of paperwork you need to fill out before we get to work so I can’t disclose anything about the case until you sign in.” Marcus steps into the office behind you and watches as you set your things down before you move to your desk. He can’t help but feel his muscles loosen at the sight of the bookshelves across your room.

“This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to me all year long so yes, hundred percent. I’m available for the rest of the day today as well as tomorrow and Friday after lecture which ends at the same time as today’s.” You beam up at him as you take two books out of your bag and replace them with a folder that was sitting in the middle of your desk. Marcus looks at you quizzically, marveling at how much easier this was going. He genuinely thought he was going to meet with someone who was probably a bit proud and perhaps as much of an asshole as his previous professors but you were so much different than anyone he’s ever met within this field.

“Are you sure? I understand if you need to take a week or two-”

“No please, you’ll be saving me from faculty lunches and two seminars by colleagues that I genuinely cannot fucking stand- oh, sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to-” You swing your leather bag around your shoulder again and shut the blinds of the windows before you walk to the door.

“Please, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Marcus chuckles at the excitement rolling off of you and bites his lower lip when he watches you quickly fix your hair.

“I might need to have lunch on the way to your office though if that’s okay?” You take a plastic container out of your bag and smile sheepishly at him as you lock your door.

“Wow...is your bag bigger on the inside or something? And, yeah fine by me.” He pushes his hands into his pockets again and walks next to you, a little corner in his heart gradually filling with hope letting him know that he should be cautious. He didn’t want a repeat of last time.

You both chat briefly on your way to headquarters and Marcus apologizes every time he looks over and sees you struggling with your food. By the time you make it to the building, Marcus can tell you are a bit nervous and he assures you once more that this was merely a consultation.

“Wait how did you even find me?” You take your jacket off along with everything in your pockets, laying them down near your bag as they go through the scanner. Marcus passes through with his badge and waits for you on the other side, picking up your things as you put your jacket back on.

“I made some calls and a friend suggested to get in touch with you because of your expertise.”

“Oh now we’re getting somewhere. You have a Greek artifact don’t you?” Marcus halts in his steps and looks over to you as he shuts his eyes in irritation. He should have watched what he said.

“S-sorry I couldn’t help it. I’ll stop until I fill out whatever paperwork you have for me.” You take your things from him and walk quietly as he leads you to the elevators.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s not personal, it’s just-”

“Business I know. I know. I’m so used to watching this kind of stuff in movies that I tend to forget it’s all fake and you’re...the real deal.” You hope he doesn’t see the way your eyes trail over his taller form, silently cursing yourself when you meet his eyes and notice how he’s already staring at you with a smile.

“Sorry.” You apologize again and look straight ahead, hands tightening around the leather strap when you realize that he’s still looking at you.

Marcus fists the hands in his pockets to prevent himself from saying anything else that might make you uncomfortable, and he looks at the increasing numbers as they reach his floor. A loud ring signals your arrival and Marcus stretches out his hand so you could walk ahead of him. You wait until he tells you where to go and say nothing when he stops for a second and whispers something to another agent.

When you arrive at his office, you stand to the side and wait for him to tell you what to do.

“What’re you doing all the way over there? Come here.” Marcus calls you over to his desk and smiles, hoping to put you a little at ease. You step towards him and set your stuff on the floor as you sit opposite him on one of the two chairs. He pulls out a couple of files and sets them in front of you in four different piles.

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” You chuckle nervously as you take out a pen from your bag.

“I know, I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. These are the building rules and your signature is basically you telling us you’ll abide by all of them.”

“I don’t know any of them.” You respond immediately, and rub harshly at the pen between your fingers.

“I’ll be with you at all times so you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile throws you off guard and you nod before you sign the highlighted areas.

“And these are you swearing that you will tell no one of whatever you see, hear, do, etc. within the building.” You nod and sign through the stapled paperwork before sliding them his way.

“We’re almost done. These two are like the second pile but they have to do with this case specifically. And they extend to outside the premises, meaning that if I or another agent on the case tells you anything that has to do with your work here today while we’re grabbing coffee from across the street, you can’t say it to a living soul.” Marcus points at the four highlighted boxes and tells you to sign the date next to them as well.

“So I can say it to my dead cousin?” You ask as you sign the two papers and hand them to him, unable to hold your laughter when he shakes his head as he pushes the last pile towards you.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Can’t help it.”

“And finally, these are you swearing that whatever you tell us today, be it an opinion, a fact, or anything else, is the absolute truth. Basically, you’re not fucking with us.” You raise an eyebrow at his choice in words and he shrugs his shoulders as he motions for the empty spaces again. When you’re done, Marcus collects all the files and places them in a folder before he unlocks his desk and pushes them inside.

“I don’t ever want to see my signature again.” You whisper as he leads you out of the office towards a conference room. He holds the door for you and nods ahead, waiting for you to step in before he shuts the door behind him and turns around. You try to ignore the hand pushing on your lower back as you walk in and spot three gentlemen and one woman standing towards the end of the long table.

“Wow, that was quick.” The female agent is first to speak and you say nothing as Marcus introduces you to them.

“Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”

“Of course. This is very exciting for me so I’m happy to help in any way.” You shake her hand and stand to the side as Marcus motions for you to sit down.

“This is Lydia, Ethan, Henry, and Noah.” Marcus points to each member of his team as he pulls out a chair next to you and sits down.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You nod towards them and look at the folder that Lydia hands to you. Marcus says something as you flip open the folder but you can’t respond, eyes almost falling out of their sockets as you take in the large image on the page. You look up at Marcus and everyone else before you return your attention to the picture.

“You recognize what this is then?” Ethan breaks the silence and watches as you move through the pages quickly.

“Umm, that seems like an oversimplification but yes.” You continue to study the images in front of you for another few minutes before you set them down and look up at Marcus.

“Some explanation would really help me out right now.” You tap softly on the papers, and your mind conjures up the wildest possible stories behind the images currently displayed in front of you.

“Oh right yes. We received a tip from the Smithsonian’s acquisitions department about a man trying to sell them this artifact for three million dollars,” Marcus notices your eyes widen but he continues, “but they’re not sure if it’s stolen or not. And he refuses to cooperate.”

“Which is where you come in. Have you seen anything like this before and if so, where?” Lydia stares at you as you return your attention to the pictures again.

“And the Smithsonian can’t confirm this?”

“Far from it. Marcus here is just afraid they’ll eventually get greedy and do anything to get their hands on it.” You look next to you and watch a faint blush take over the agent’s handsome features.

“I mean I don’t blame you. There are a bunch of real assholes in this field.” You laugh when he gives Lydia a ‘told you’ look.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you if I don’t see the actual pendant.” You shut the folder and push it away from you.

“That might be a problem.” Henry takes his glasses off and proceeds to clean them as he looks at his co-workers.

“Why? Do you not have it anymore?” Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of the FBI losing such an object.

“Oh no we have it. Our guy is afraid we’ll switch it out with a fake so he refuses to hand it to us unless he’s in the same room.”

“That’s funny. Is there a rule that says I can’t look at it while this man is in the room?” You ask Marcus and he can’t help but notice how giddy you’re being all of a sudden. Your excitement is almost palpable and he wills himself to focus on the question and not how you bite your lower lip as you wait for him.

“I mean…”

“You’re all going to be in the room aren’t you?” You cut him off before he says anything and when they all nod, you turn to Marcus once more and wait for his response.

“I guess it’s fine.” Marcus reluctantly answers before he asks Ethan and Noah to bring the man from the interrogation room he’s been in for the past couple of hours. Lydia and Henry let you in on more details and Marcus watches as you furrow your eyebrows in focus, occasionally cutting them off to ask them a question.

Fifteen minutes later and a knock on the door breaks you out of your haze. You look up just as Ethan and Noah walk in with a man in front of them. You say nothing as they bring him to your side of the room and set him down across from you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t steal it. I found it!” Your ears perk at his comment but you say nothing as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at you.

“May I see it?” You ask before anyone else says anything and the man continues to stare at you before he ignores your question.

“Please, I’m just here to confirm your story. I know for a fact there isn’t a museum out there that has this.” You notice the hardened expression on Henry’s face but he says nothing. A few long moments pass by and the man shifts to take something out of the inside his jacket. You inhale deeply and watch as he unwraps the cloth before he places the small pendant on the table in front of you.

“May I?” You ask again and if Marcus didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just trying to put the man at ease. If you were nervous around five FBI agents and you did nothing wrong, then his little thief must have been scared shitless.

When the man nods, you bring out a pair of gloves from your handbag and put them on, forcing yourself to remain calm as you pick up the pendant.

“What a beautiful work of art you are baby. Red jasper, my favorite!” Your excited words break the silence and you look up at the man in front of you with a smile, feeling your hands sweat when he slowly returns the expression.

Got you.

“Greek is marvelous...crystal clear, grammatically correct, unique placement.” It’s as silent as a cemetery and Marcus watches you closely as you narrow your eyes and adjust the stone under the light. If he wasn’t dealing with a criminal and a potentially stolen artifact, he would have told you how beautiful you looked when you were deep in the middle of a task.

“Hmm, what is this 6th century-ish spell? Oh my bad, no no no, I tend to mix them up sometimes. It’s definitely a 7th century formula.” You make an awkward face and watch as Lydia shakes her head at your little mix up.

“Now, let’s see what you got on the other side sweetheart.” You carefully turn the amulet around in the palm of your hand and barely hold back from gasping dramatically.

“My god...what a goddamn sight...oh oops sorry, that was probably blasphemous. A perfectly etched crucifixion...cross with 4 sides, with a plaque at the top...and of course, can’t forget the clothed Christ. The detail on this is truly unlike anything I’ve ever seen, down to the ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare’ around the figure. Where did you say you found it again?” You casually ask as you continue to inspect the stone, almost laughing when the man responds immediately to your question.

“Mount Athos.” Marcus turns to his team in shock. You’d managed to get the information out of him so easily while they spent an entire day trying to get him to say anything. It was a little funny how at ease the man seemed now, leaning forward towards you as you flipped the stone around.

“Ohh the hub of Eastern monasteries. Boy is this the most valuable artifact I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at then.” You set it down on the cloth and wrap it up before taking your gloves off and leaning back on the chair.

“See, told you its one of a kind. No one’s ever found anything like it before.” The man beams at you before he takes the object and puts it back in his jacket.

“Oh yeah it’s one of a kind alright...because it’s the most fake amulet I’ve ever had the misfortune of examining. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this disappointed in my life. And here I thought another one of these was out there. Did you even bother to do any research on this?” You frown at him and cross your arms in irritation, completely missing Marcus’ reaction and how he turns to Lydia to confirm that yes, you just said that it was a fake artifact.

“W-what?”

“I’d love to know where you got the red jasper because you could have fooled me with that. Let’s break this down shall we? The Greek is perfect, too perfect if I’m being honest. You never have grammatically correct syntax etched on a magical amulet, let alone proper diction. Oh and you should have probably used Classical Greek instead of modern Greek, like were you even trying? Really bad move to use a 7th century formula with a non-altered 6th century spell. The formula didn’t even exist yet!” You tilt your head to the side and watch as the man in front of you begins to fidget. His smile is replaced with a shocked expression and you watch as it slowly becomes angry.

Marcus was speechless. He never saw this coming and was looking at you with a mixture of awe and surprise at the turn of events. He could only stare at you as he took in your energy, the same confidence and intelligence he saw earlier in the day when he walked into your lecture.

“As for the back, you never get 4-sided crosses with these, only three, and the head of Christ makes up the fourth which you don’t actually see because of his head. No plaque, too detailed and non-existent in protection spells. Christ is always nude on magical amulets by the way...yes it’s weird, but it’s a fucking amulet and he was just some extra deity. And finally, never, ever, write out ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare.’ You write the acronym IXOYE.” You flip open the folder that was in front of you and grab a sharpie from Marcus’ file, circling the first letter of each Greek word and holding it up as if he was one of your students and you were trying to lecture him.

“Don’t even get me started on your provenance. Mount Athos? I mean for fuck’s sake, Constanza would have been a better option. At least we actually found amulets out there. How much was he asking for this?” You turn to Marcus and completely miss the starstruck eyes he’s giving you. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he finally realizes that you asked him a question.

“Uhhh 3 mil.”

“Oh boy...yeah, this is worth jack shit. Wouldn’t even do it’s intended job if you actually wore it as a protection pendant.” You watch as the man’s expression changes from anger to outrage and you barely have any time to push away your chair and hide behind Marcus before the man tries to jump on top of the table towards you. It takes Ethan and Noah approximately five seconds to tackle him down before they take him out of the room. You watch as they reach for the amulet in his pocket and give it to Henry just as they push him out.

You’re still coming down from the adrenaline rush when Marcus turns around and asks you if you are alright. As soon as you see the gun in his hands, your hold on his jacket tightens and you gulp nervously when you meet his eyes. He apologizes quickly once he sees where you’re looking and quickly puts the gun back in its holster.

“You okay?” Marcus holds your wrist and rubs his thumb over your pulse point until you begin to relax. You fix your jacket and take a deep breath before you meet his eyes, almost gasping when you see how dark and oddly calming they are.

“Didn’t think a consultation would get this exciting but uhh, yeah I’m good. I think.” You try to laugh it off but looking at the object in Henry’s hand makes you realize that the last five minutes did really happen and you actually managed to piss off someone to the point where he tried to attack you.

“And we were worried it was stolen…” Lydia shakes her head when she takes the amulet and swirls it around in her hand.

“I might be wrong but I think you should try to find out who made it, especially because of the red jasper. This came real close to a fake. And you should also try to date it as well...there might be more of these out there.” You smile when Lydia agrees and collects the folders on the table, thanking you on her way out.

“My pleasure...apart from that last bit.” You laugh it off and watch as she exits the conference room with Henry.

“So…” You turn to Marcus and whisper a quick thank you when he hands you your bag.

“So, this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to consult on this case. I- I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened. It’s not always like this, I promise. The exciting stuff usually happens when we find guys like him in abandoned warehouses.” Marcus continues to word vomit as he leads you back to his office.

“It’s okay really. My advisor always warned me about this.”

“About working with the FBI?”

“No no, about rambling so much that I piss off someone to the point where they try to kill me.” You’re taken aback by Marcus’ laugh and can’t help but giggle along with him as he leans back in his chair and continues to laugh.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t work with us again?” There’s something in his voice that doesn’t ease the butterflies in your stomach and you place your hand on your chest dramatically as you bat your eyes at him.

“Why Agent Pike, are you trying to recruit me to the FBI?” You ask sarcastically and watch as he shrugs his shoulders before shutting off his computer and standing up.

“Just a consult here and there, should we meet another Greco-Roman artifact? Or...a fake one I guess.” You swallow the lump in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you and hope that you’re not misreading any signs.

“Can I take you out to dinner? As a thank you and an apology for putting your life in danger?” Marcus is reluctant to ask but he takes the leap of faith and hopes that you wouldn’t reject him.

“I- actually...in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll do well in public after that whole thing.” You gesture towards the outside offices, and Marcus nods in disappointment and contemplates on whether he should ask you to dinner some other time. You never give him a chance to follow-up though.

“How about take-out at my place?” You stand up and smile when you see his eyes beam with excitement as he fixes his tie and motions towards the door.

“Lead the way doctor.” You flush under the title and walk ahead so he doesn’t notice the obvious effect he’s having on you. You glance at Marcus every now and then as you make your way out of the building and towards his car.

You chat about random things as he drives through the busy streets, and you feel your heart skip a beat when he says something scandalous about your favorite Impressionist artwork, not because of the comment but because of the way he winks at you as he slides his hand to your thighs and nudges them to let you know he was just joking. You hope that Marcus asks for your number by the end of the night, maybe even invite you to dinner again, because if you’re being honest, it’s been a while since you met a decent guy and he’s been checking all of your boxes all day long.

Kind. Intelligent. Hard-working. Funny. And of course, attractive. There was something about the way he smiles and you kept on replaying the moment he hid you behind him and continued to ask if you were alright.

“What do you mean you don’t like Bal du moulin de la Galette? It’s one of the most magnificent paintings out there. Best of Renoir’s if you ask me.” You unlock the door and switch on the lights, throwing your coat and bag on the wall before telling Marcus to make himself at him. He takes his jacket off and hangs it as well, turning around to continue his argument.

“Listen, I’m just not a crowd kind of guy. I’m more of a Paris Street, Rainy Day man okay so-”

“Why am I not surprised by that?” You laugh as you bring him a cup of water, hoping you were being subtle as you continued to check out the gun resting in his holster. Shaking your head, you take your phone out again and tell him that it’ll take you a few minutes to order pizza since neither of you can make up your mind.

Marcus looks around when you walk away to place the order, his eyes taking in the three bookshelves behind your couch. It’s almost as if the office space wasn’t enough so you had to make more room for all of your textbooks and novels. Maybe it was the other way around…

He takes a sip of water and glances to the side, instantly choking on the liquid when his eyes zero in on the three watercolor paintings hanging above your television. Marcus blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things. He approaches the wall and looks between the three artworks, unable to tear his gaze away. He notices new details every time he focuses on a different corner of each painting, and his pants suddenly feel uncomfortable when he shifts closer.

“Pizza will be here in thirty-ish minutes and-” You almost drop the phone when Marcus jumps back and almost trips over his own feet. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” When you walk closer and see the blush creeping down his neck, you can’t help but giggle and glance at your paintings, almost as if you were taunting him into commenting on your choice in decoration.

“These are...interesting.” Marcus avoids looking at them when you stand next to him, merely pointing to the side as he looks at you.

“Oh no...here we go. I know what that means. You don’t like them?” You tilt your head to the side and hold back from smiling when he takes a long sip of water before he sets down the glass.

“N-no no, that’s not...I didn’t mean- I just...it’s a bold choice.” His stutter makes you laugh even harder and you apologize when his blush deepens. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s always really funny when people come over because I get all kinds of reactions but you’re definitely the first guy that doesn’t call me a slut because I have pornographic paintings hanging in my living room.”

“Why not? The Dutch lords and the Italian merchants did it, why can’t you?” Marcus is almost offended by the remark and he forgets all about the awkwardness of the paintings when he sees you nod aggressively in agreement.

“Exactly!? Why is a guy allowed to hang an Odalisque in his home but I can’t hang some BDSM scenes?” You take the glass from the table and ask him if he wants more. Marcus shakes his head and quickly attempts to fix himself through his pants before you return.

“So you like them then?” You lounge on one chair and wait for Marcus to sit on the couch before you ask him.

“It’s a different aesthetic I think, and it somehow goes well with your bookshelves. Something about textbooks and nude paintings depicting sex just goes together...can’t explain how. And kudos to the artist too! The brushstrokes, the layering, the complementary colors...the scenes and positions are so natural. They’re perfect combinations. Did you pick them or did you commission them?”

“Oh I commissioned two of them. The third was just too good to not order. I’ll ask you this then, which ones do you think I commissioned?” Marcus glances to the canvases again and grows quiet for a few moments, his eyes switching from one painting to another before he meets your gaze.

“I think you commissioned the two on the left.”

“Why?” You try to hide how impressed you are by how he correctly figured you out, almost cringing when the question leaves your mouth before you could stop yourself. As much as you enjoy where this conversation was going, you really hope this wouldn’t lead to some misogynistic response on his part. Just as Marcus is about to respond, the doorbell rings and you tell him you’ll be right back.

Marcus thanks the heavens that the pizza arrives because he isn’t sure how he could respond to that question without accidentally giving his train of thoughts away. When you come back with plates and napkins, Marcus thanks you and proceeds to separate the pizza slices.

“It was the closest I could get to owning something that resembled the area I study.” You say through chewing and Marcus furrows his eyebrows, silently asking you to elaborate on your comment.

“Nudity I mean. I can’t afford sculptures so I settled with these.”

“They are beautiful. And the positions are-” Marcus stops abruptly when he realizes that his inner monologue just rolled off of his tongue.

“Go on, what were you going to say?”

“I- uh, I just think that the positions are intimate. And they become more intimate the longer you look at them.” He chews faster when you nod and take another slice of pizza.

“You have a favorite?” You ask and pretend you aren’t paying attention to every single word he says. You get the sense that he has a lot to say about the paintings but is choosing to hold back so you don’t get the wrong idea about why he is having dinner with you in your apartment after only knowing you for a few hours.

“Definitely the middle one.” His answer surprises you, especially because the one on the right has handcuffs and you genuinely thought he’d be into that because of his line of work.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh...I- this might sound weird but I think the scene is intense and- and close? Private? I’m not sure what it is I’m trying to say but the fact that she’s completely nude except for the panties around her thighs while he’s fully clothed and is focusing on her pleasure is- it’s intimate. And the hand on her back is a mixture of dominance and care, like he’s letting her know that she has his undivided attention but she has to behave for him.” You’re not sure when exactly you stopped eating and you clear your throat when you realize that Marcus was looking at you to gauge your reaction.

“Y-yeah that...ahuh.” Something about the way he says the word ‘behave’ twists your insides and you immediately stand up and head to the kitchen, whispering something about needing to wash down the food with something. Marcus eats quietly and hopes he hasn’t just made things even more awkward. When you come back and hand him a glass of red wine, Marcus relaxes and continues to eat.

“Have you ever drawn something like this?” You shake your head as you take a sip of the wine, laying against the back of the couch and crossing your legs.

“I wish. Human anatomy is so fascinating I think. I sometimes get this adrenaline rush when I look at the far right one and I tell myself that I’ll sketch all the risque and open positions I can think of but then I remember how long it would take me to finish one piece and I- I don’t have time for that sadly.”

“You can always start out with simpler ones? Maybe solo pieces, and move up from there.” Marcus mirrors you and sits back with the wine glass in his hand.

“Yeah, but I just love this kind of genre so much. It needs to be passionate, and sexy and out there you know.” Marcus smiles at the energetic response, feeling much more relaxed now that he’s had a cup of wine and found chatting about your choice in decoration less awkward.

“I get you. It’s why that lifestyle is interesting to so many people. The whole dynamic, whether we’re talking about the figures in the scene or actual partners, is based on that trust. You- you have to create that sense of trust and comfort for the scene to be enjoyable...pleasurable. It’s not as easy as some think it to be. As a Dom, you have to be aware of your partner at all times and the effect you have on them. And the same goes for a Sub too. You need to ensure that your Dom knows how much trust you put in them and the level of dedication that’s going into the scene. Both parties are depending on each other and it’s- it’s amazing.” Marcus smiles when he notices the intensity swimming in your eyes and he gives you a few seconds to collect your bearings before he asks his next question.

“Would you draw something as intimate as that?” He breaks the silence and watches your train of thought come and go.

“Would you?” You throw the question right back at him, holding in a breath when you see him lean forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I would...but only if I have the right model.” Marcus doesn’t know where all of this is coming from but he can’t find it in himself to break whatever bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You’re silent for a few moments, long enough for Marcus to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s crossed the line.

But then you’re smiling at him mischievously, chugging down the rest of the wine before standing up and heading towards the hallway.

“I have an easel and some 16x20 papers lying around...I hope you don’t mind working with chalk.” You throw back at him before you walk down the hallway and Marcus has to give himself a quick pep talk before he follows you. He slowly makes his way into your bedroom and stands at the doorstep until you allow him to come in.

“I think the lighting is best in this corner but you’ll be the one working so sit wherever you prefer.” You bring over a chair and set it in front of the easel before you grab the large box of supplies and pull out all the chalk sticks that you have. Marcus nods in silence as he pushes the easel closer to your bed and begins to choose which of the chalk sticks he wants. There is a variety of shapes and sizes, and he’s not sure if he should start out bold or if he should ease himself into this. It’s been a while since he’s drawn a model and he really doesn’t want to screw up, especially because it is you.

Marcus is so busy preparing his workstation that he doesn’t notice you stripping off your clothes. You keep your eyes on him and find the little scrunch he does with his eyebrows when he focuses on something endearing. Taking a deep breath, you take off your bra and panties before laying on the bed and getting in a comfortable position. Your movements are minimal, and you stretch out your legs in wait for him. You fight the part of you that’s yelling at you to cover yourself and keep your focus on him to gauge his reaction.

“Pose however you want and we can work on the postures once we-” The words die in his throat as soon as he looks up from the easel and sees your state of dress, or lack thereof. The thick chalk stick he’s holding between his fingers snaps in half and breaks the blanket of silence that fell on the room. He visibly gulps and doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes trail down your form slowly before they return to look into your dilated ones. Marcus knows for a fact that the image of your heaving chest and hardened nipples will forever be etched in his mind.

“I- uhh, are you...c-comfortable?” He hates how much he’s stuttering and you smile at him when you notice how he is focusing on the wall behind you and not you.

You look around for a few moments, grabbing a couple of pillows and placing them behind your back before you stretch out one leg and bend the other one to your chest. Marcus almost chokes on his breath when he sees how open you are being with him but he says nothing and turns his attention to the blank piece of paper underneath his hand.

“I’m ready.” Your voice brings him out of his stupor and he nods briefly as he tries to reason with himself. He cannot draw you unless he looks at you. But he is well aware of the hardening predicament he’s currently suffering from and he’s sure you probably noticed by now the effect you were having on him.

“I won’t tell you how to do your job Agent, but artists usually have to look at the models they’re drawing to...you know, draw them.” Marcus rolls his eyes at the teasing remark, briefly glancing at you with a raised eyebrow before he begins to softly outline the shape of your shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants and he tries his hardest to not squirm too much in his seat. But every time his eyes move towards your nude form laying not five feet away from him, he silently curses himself and pretends he’s fine and that he isn’t imagining pushing you down and shoving his tongue deep into your wet cunt.

“Are you usually this quiet when you’re sketching, Agent Pike?” Something about the way you’re addressing him makes him clench his jaw tightly and he unintentionally whispers a little louder than he intends in response.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your giggles let him know that you heard his remark and he is sure his face is growing a deeper shade of red but he shrugs his shoulders and ignores your obvious amusement. Marcus swallows the lump in his throat as he shifts his focus below your neck, parting his lips when he notices the tilt of your head from his peripheral vision as he ceases all movement and continues to stare at your chest.

“Oh sorry, is my arm in the way,” you lower your arms and move them behind you to support your weight, never breaking eye contact with him as you rock your bent leg back and forth and give him a full view of your most intimate parts.

Marcus is almost shaking in his seat at the sight of your breasts, unaware that he’s harshly rubbing the chalk stick with his thumb the more your leg sways to the side and reveals the outer folds of your pussy.

“P-perfect, thank you.” He whispers and returns to the sheet in front of him, biting into his lower lip as he rolls the chalk across and sketches the curves of your breasts. For a moment, he forgets what he is doing and narrows his eyes at the shapes in front of him before he smudges the black material across to shade in the skin. He looks back and forth for a couple of minutes until he’s happy with the shading of your body.

You marvel at how he’s managing to keep it together for this long when all you can think about is begging for him to fuck you into the mattress. You thought it would be easy for him to break but ever the gentleman, he takes the task seriously and tries his hardest to not dwell on your skin for longer than necessary.

A thought comes through your mind and you smile to yourself as you shift your bent leg to the side and move the other one until it falls from the side of the bed. You stare at him and hope this is what finally does the trick. And you don’t have to wait for too long because the next time Marcus looks at you, he takes a double-take and doesn’t bother to hide how he’s only focusing on the skin between your thighs.

“I thought it would be easier for you, you know. Easier access and everything.” You’re not sure what you’re going on about but you can tell that it’s taking every ounce of control in his body to not pounce on you. You hold your breath when Marcus stands up and meets your eyes, and you think this is it. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But then he’s freeing the paper from the easel and moving towards you, his expression never once giving his plan away. You gulp when he kneels at the foot of your bed and sets the paper between your thighs.

“You’re right, easier access,” Marcus says as he brings the chalk down on the paper and sketches your thighs, not bothering for propriety as his eyes zero in on your slit. You know you’re wet and you can feel slick easing down your folds but you don’t move a muscle, watching him as he expertly outlines your skin before he rubs the chalk with his thumb to shade the area again.

“It’s not quite how I want it…” His remark makes you shiver and you’re about to beg him to forgo the sketch when he leans forward and nudges your legs apart, perhaps a little carelessly, before he collects your arousal with his middle finger and swipes it across your folds. You’re shocked by the turn of events and barely hold back from moaning as he dips the clean finger into your pussy and rubs your walls for a few more seconds, his soft brown eyes turning dangerous as pushes his finger a little deeper and bites his lower lip when he feels you clenching around him. Marcus turns his attention back to you, his jaw tensing when he sees sheer bliss etched on your expression. Your little gasps are music to his ears and just as he feels your hips moving against him, he pulls his hand away.

You watch him like a hawk as he inspects his finger, gasping when he smudges at the chalk on the sketch to create darker shades around your center.

“Hmm, that’s more like it.” Marcus turns to you and smirks when he sees your parted lips turn into a frown.

“Do you not like it?” He feigns ignorance and raises an eyebrow when your frown deepens as you move back into your pillows. You lean back but continue to hold his gaze as you part your thighs and lazily stroke your cunt. Marcus slowly puts down the paper and chalk onto the floor and stands up just as you begin to pinch your nipples.

“Please…” Your whispered plea shoots straight to his cock and he laughs when it turns into a whine once he makes his way to the bathroom in your room. He says nothing as he quickly washes his hands and dries them before moving back and standing next to your bed.

You don’t stop touching yourself, hoping the needy sight of you is all the push he needs to take what he wants.

“What’s your safeword doctor?” Marcus keeps his hands in his pockets as he trails his eyes down your shivering body. He’s itching to touch you but he remains still and waits for confirmation that you do, in fact, want this as much as him. A part of him knows that the two of you should probably slow down and perhaps discuss whatever this is before you go any further. But it feels right being here with you. And he doesn’t want to give it up just yet.

“J-Jasper.” Your voice breaks when you see the hunger swimming in his eyes and you shift to the center of your bed as Marcus kicks off his shoes before taking off his socks.

“Hmm.” Marcus hums as he takes off the holster from his belt and quietly places the gun on your nightstand. When he turns back and sees you watching the gun and increasing your movements, he groans down at you before walking around the bed.

“Maybe another time baby...when you and I are a little more acquainted with each other.” You flush at the implications behind his words and nod at him. You watch as he begins to roll up his sleeves and your anticipation grows with each inch of skin he reveals.

“You look so pretty sweetheart, all needy and desperate for my touch. Do you want to cum baby?” Marcus asks teasingly and you nod frantically as you begin to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Nuh uh, use your words. I’ll let it go this time but from now on, you use your words if you want something from me.” His tone is less gentle and your inner walls spasm at the thought of hearing that same commanding voice telling you to get on your knees for him.

“S-sorry yes...yes please. I- I want to cum, please.” Marcus smiles in amusement as he steps closer to the bed until his knees touch the mattress.

“Good girl. Now, if you really want to cum, then you better come here and suck me off. Be a good girl for me and show me what that sweet fucking mouth of yours can do.” His chest puffs out proudly when he sees how quickly you’re moving to please him. You lay on your stomach and palm him through his pants, moaning along with him when you find him hard and ready for you.

“May I undress you?”

“Go on sweetheart, take what you want.” Marcus caresses your cheek as you excitedly unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn’t dare look away as you shove his pants down his thighs before leaning forward and nuzzling your nose into the bulge of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck baby, are you trying to kill me?” You giggle and shake your head in response, purposely rubbing his length with your nose just before you feel his fingers combing through your hair and tugging on it.

“Remember sweetheart...bad girls don’t get to cum. Stop your teasing before I shove my cock down your throat.” Marcus pulls on your hair harshly and groans when he sees you smiling up at him.

“Is that a promise Agent Pike?” You know you’re pushing his buttons and don’t hold back from gasping his name as he rolls you onto your back and aggressively pushes his boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock. He’s not really a vain man but seeing you lick your lips and inch closer to him as you stare at his hard dick makes him just a little cocky.

“Go on baby, open your mouth. Part those pretty fucking lips for me.” Marcus pats your lips softly and shivers when you respond to him right before you shut your eyes and wait for him to give you his cock.

“Yes sir.”

His knees buckle for a second the moment you take his tip into your mouth and suck on it. Marcus is torn between throwing his head back to enjoy the softness of your mouth and keeping his eyes on you as you suck on his cock. He leans forward and bites his cheek when you relax your throat and take more of his cock down your throat.

“P-part your legs for me baby please. Let me- oh fuck, your mouth is made of magic sweetheart. Let me- let me see how wet that pretty cunt is.” Marcus is already breathing heavily and he furrows his eyebrows in focus, not wanting to end this night early. You swallow around him a few times and hum when you feel his hand cupping your breasts while the other rests around your throat.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you try to take him down as deep as possible just as you part your thighs and begin to play with your pussy. Marcus groans and swears above you as you work him expertly and he can’t hold back from pushing the palm of his hand a little harder on your throat. He can feel his cock passing across your pharynx and moans your name over and over again when he looks down and sees drool rolling down your cheeks.

“Ahh fuck oh god, s-sweetheart you’re a fucking dream. W-where have you been all my life?” Marcus continues to kneed at your tits, but when he gets a little irritated when he sees your fingers rubbing your clit. Without warning, he leans forward as far as he can and slaps your hand away, replacing it with his own and biting his cheek when he finds you soaking.

“Shit baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” You hum around him and twitch in surprise when you feel two of his thick fingers pushing past your wet folds and into your cunt. You’re already so close to coming from his teasing and you whimper when he nudges your thighs apart aggressively.

“Keep those legs open for me baby. Shit, the smell of you is fucking intoxicating. Fuck, that it’s, get on your hands and knees for me.” Marcus moves away and silences you with one look when you start to whine and reach for his cock.

“Unless you want to call it a night, you’ll get on your fucking hands and knees for me. Shit baby I’ve wanted to shove my tongue in that pussy as soon as you stripped for me.” He never breaks eye contact as he kicks away his pants and briefs before he makes quick work of his shirt. You quickly turn around and bite into your wrist as you get on all fours and try to look at him through your elbow. You reach down and ease two fingers into your cunt as you take in his broad shoulders and lean form. You swear his muscles flex the longer you stare at him and when you finally look at him, you’re a little embarrassed at being caught openly ogling him.

“Look at you, like a bitch in heat.” Regret rolls off of him as soon as he registers what he just said. An apology is on the tip of his tongue but then you’re arching your back and shifting closer to him, giving him a show as you curve your knuckles to try and hit that sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh aren’t you the prettiest sweetheart in the world.” You moan his name when he caresses your back and kneels behind you, laying soft kisses across your back as he palms and lightly smacks your ass. Marcus removes your hand away slowly but not before licking your fingers and humming around them as the taste of you fills his mouth.

“Marcus please...I- I need you inside me.”

“What do you need from me? You want my tongue and fingers? Or do you think this cunt is ready to take my cock?” Marcus nips at your skin and pushes a hand on your lower back when you try and move away from him.

“W-whatever you want...just- need to feel you inside me. I don’t care, please. Oh fuck...please.” You squeal when Marcus spreads your cheeks apart and spits on your slit right before licking across your cunt. You fist your hands into the sheets and bite down on your wrist when you feel his nose nudge at your entrance as his tongue flicks your engorged clit.

“Good answer sweetheart,” you hear him whisper just as he kisses across your folds and dips his tongue into your core. You’re already shaking with need and rock back against him, hoping he’d end your agony and give you his fingers as well. Marcus is losing his mind and he tries his hardest to focus on pleasuring you. But it’s so hard to hold back when you’re whimpering at his touch and shoving your pussy in his face to get more friction.

“Stop moving,” Marcus growls against you, and you cry out his name when his palms land on your ass cheeks three consecutive times before he rubs the reddening skin.

“Oh god, your tongue feels so good Marcus. D-don’t stop, please. I want to cum, l-let me cum. You’re so fucking- ahh s-shit.” You think you feel him smile against you as he pushes two fingers into your pussy but you can’t be sure because you suddenly feel full. Fuck, and it’s only his fingers.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He slowly parts you with his fingers and groans when he feels you squeezing his fingers. When you try to move against him again, Marcus slithers his hand across your back and grabs your neck, pushing your face into the bed as he leans over to whisper in your ears.

“You’re being such a bad girl tonight. I won’t give you another warning baby. Move again and I won’t fuck you.” You shiver when you hear his hoarse voice on your ears, grasping the pillows as hard as you can when he pushes his fingers as deep as possible and curls his knuckles.

“N-no please...I’m s-sorry- ahh gahd I’ll stop. I’ll stop.” Marcus is pleased with the effect he’s clearly having on you and almost gives in. But he wants you to cum before he takes you. From the looks of it, you aren’t looking for anything gentle, and with how hard he is, has been for the entire day, he doesn’t have the self-control to be anything but rough.

“Good girl...sweet fucking girl.” You force yourself to remain immobile as you feel him reaching deeper and applying more pressure on your spongy walls. The hand on your neck moves to your back and massages your heated skin. It takes you a while to realize that he’s reenacting the paintings in your living room and the thought shakes you to your core. Before you can even warn him, you feel a familiar pressure growing in the depths of your stomach and your heart hammers in your chest as you lose yourself to the sudden swelling sensation. You gasp his name over and over again as you cum around his fingers, and Marcus fists his hand in your hair when he feels you shuddering beneath him.

He’s shocked at how quickly you unravel at his ministrations and he doesn’t look away as he brushes his thumb against your clit and watches your body fight to not move away from him.

“M-Marcus wait- I...too much.” You can barely form a coherent sentence, let alone a thought, and you bite into the sheets when you feel his scruff scratch your skin deliciously as he licks off your juices.

“Use your safeword sweetheart and I’ll stop. But you came without asking so now I have to punish you...fuck, you taste as good as you smell baby, shit, maybe even better.” Marcus slows down but continues to move his digits across your tightening walls and when you say nothing, he sits up and twists his hand, waiting for your breathing to slow down before he begins to fuck you with his fingers.

“Oh oh f-fuck I- Marcus M-Marcus oh god...yes please fuck ahh I- I’m…” You try to warn him but he doesn’t slow down once, continuing his assault on your abused cunt until he feels you tightening around him again.

“Beg!”

“Can I- oh god, can I cum? Please fuck, I- I can’t s-stah ahh fuck.” You reach around and dig your nails into the hand fisting in your hair. You try to warn him again of what’s about to happen but he doesn’t give you a chance, picking up the pace just as he curves his digits and rubs at your sensitive spot.

“Drench me baby.” It’s all you need to fall over the edge again and your vision whites out as you convulse around him. Marcus smiles proudly when you listen to his command but his expression changes to one of awe when he feels you gush around his hand and wet his arm and thighs. He doesn’t stop once, completely captivated by the sight of your juices flowing around him so easily. When you try to move up the bed, Marcus lets go of your neck and pushes down on your lower back to keep you still. The damp spot beneath you is growing and something primal takes over Marcus. He wants nothing more than to soak the entire bed.

But he snaps out of his haze when you cry out his name and beg him to slow down. He looks at you as he gradually comes to a halt but keeps his fingers in your pussy. Marcus massages your muscles as he eases his wet fingers out of you and carefully maneuvers you until you’re laying on your back. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness and almost jump away when you feel his tongue passing across the skin of your thighs. When you finally have enough mind to look at him, you’re taken aback by the sheer bliss written on his face as he closes his eyes and cleans you up. Your eyes widen in horror and embarrassment when you look at his glistening skin and you call for him shyly to grab his attention.

“I-I’m so sorry...I- I’ve never-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and the fact that I’m the first to make you squirt...best feedback I’ve ever gotten.” Marcus cuts you off as he licks at his forearm and fingers before he sits up behind you. You find his gaze much more intense than before and you hide behind your arm to avoid it.

“Marcus, stop.” He laughs at your sudden shyness and leans over to pull your arms away from your face.

“Please baby, don’t hide from me. Please.” You feel exposed underneath him and it’s a stupid thought considering what the two of you have been doing so far. But something about the way he’s staring at you with those deep, brown, soulful eyes makes you want to hide under the sheets. But instead, you take his hand and pull him close until he’s flush against you.

“K-kiss me.” You watch as his expression intensifies just as he leans forward and molds his lips with yours. You expected him to be rough but the way he parts his lips and allows you access to his mouth leaves you breathless. His scruff and mustache heighten the sensation and you instantly shove your tongue in his mouth when he melts against you. You hum when you finally taste yourself on his tongue and Marcus growls as the kiss grows more desperate. Just as you run out of breath, Marcus pulls away and holds back from smiling when you chase after him.

“Sweetheart, c-can I have you?” You’re amazed by how he’s still asking you if you want to do this even after the events of the past hour or so.

“Yes, please.” You respond as you push him off to resume your previous position again. Marcus feels his cock harden at the sight of you on your knees for him. But the moment shatters into a million pieces when he looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms.

“Fuck.” He hisses and begins to move away when he feels your hands reach for his thighs to stop him.

“What? What is it?”

“I- I didn’t think this would...I don’t have any condoms baby.” You stare at him for a few seconds before you break the silence and hope he doesn’t think any less of you. “I was tested after the last time and I’m clear. A-are you?” Marcus pins you with his eyes as he nods along. “I’m clean too...and, it’s been a while.” He hates to admit that last bit but he wants you to know that this, whatever it is, is serious.

“Same.” Your answer surprises him and he’s about to ask how that’s possible but forgets the question when you shift closer to him and dig your nails into his thighs to grab his attention.

“Fuck me.” The vulgar request sounds so pure rolling off of your tongue and Marcus pushes your knees wide open and settles between them. You continue to stare at him with hunger in your eyes as he strokes his cock a few times before he slides it across your wet slit. You’re already so sensitive from earlier but you can’t care less because you’ve only wanted to feel him inside you for the better half of the day. Marcus bites his lower lip and grasps your hips with one hand as he positions himself against your entrance and slowly pushes past your wet folds. He feels your walls already clenching around him and he hesitates for a moment as he moves his hands across your back to try and get you to loosen up.

“F-fuck...relax sweetheart. Relax for me please. I- I don’t- oh god, h-how are you this tight?” Your walls flutter around him when his hoarse, almost pained voice sounds through the room. “You’re doing so good baby, taking my cock in that pretty little cunt. Fuck, that’s it. Let me in sweetheart...could make you feel so good. Shit, that’s it.” Marcus cooes above you as he feels you slowly sucking him in. You sigh heavily when he finally sheathes himself completely inside you and it’s not until a few moments later that you realize he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Marcus, m-move. Fuck, just- move.” Your impatient groans make him twitch inside you and the two of you hiss when his hips jut forward at your gasped requests. His hands hold onto you a little harshly, squeezing the skin of your hips and making you giddy at the thought of seeing those bruises the following day.

“Just wait...please baby I- I don’t want to hurt you. You feel so fucking good around me and- and I...oh fuck, f-fuck...squeezing the shit out of me. Please I-”

“Fuck. Me.” You turn your head around enough to look at him and find the sight of his sweaty forehead and furrowed eyebrows intoxicating. He can sense your eyes on him and reluctantly looks down at you when you pronounce those two words, watching as you pierce him with a harsh gaze as you roll your hips against him.

“I- are you…”

“Fucking please...take what you want.” The desperate tone of your voice breaks him and he pulls away until the tip of his cock is nudged in between your folds before he snaps his hips forward aggressively.

You shut your eyes and cry into your pillows as Marcus lets go and pounds into you. He’s no longer trying to hold back and you feel proud of the effect you have on him. Thinking back to the past hour, you realize that Marcus was going out of his way to control himself and not hurt you. But with every brush of his cock against your inner walls, with every groaned swear word and whispered affirmation, you can’t help but beg for him to fuck you harder. To take you like a crazed man. Because now that you’ve had a taste of what he’s capable of, you don’t want him to ease up on you.

“Shit baby, you’re perfect. Fucking perfect. Your cunt is begging for my cock sweetheart. Can you feel how deep I am? How deep this tight pussy is sucking me in?” Marcus nudges your knees a little farther apart as he plunges into you over and over again. You’re a moaning mess beneath him and as you try to reach back to hold onto his hands, Marcus lets go of your hips and grabs your wrists, using them as leverage to fuck you deeper.

You scream his name as his thrusts become relentless, the resonating sound of skin against skin reminding you of how sore you were going to feel for the rest of the week. You can’t really pay attention to what he’s saying anymore, choosing to focus on the way his dick fills you up completely and hits your special spot with precision. The thought of knowing that you’re at this man’s mercy and that he’s using you like he owns you makes you shudder and Marcus doesn’t realize you’re coming around him until he feels a pressure push out of you. He looks down and watches your cunt gushes on his cock and thighs again, the sight somehow even prettier the second time than the first.

He waits until you’re no longer convulsing in his arms before he thrusts his cock back into your pussy. Marcus leans down and wraps his arms around your front to bring you flush against his chest. Marcus brushes your hair aside and nuzzles into your neck as he begins to roll his hips against your ass, trying to drive his cock into you even further without hurting you. You reach around and pull on his hair when he bites on the juncture of your neck.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart.” The confession feels more intimate than anything he’s said to you thus far and you throw your head back and smile when his hands roam your front and settle on your navel.

“Marcus...please.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll give you anything. Tell me...oh god, I- I’m so close.” Marcus kisses across your shoulder as one hand cups your breasts while the other descends to your clit. He feels you convulse around him but he doesn’t move his hand away, wanting to feel you cum one last time around his cock.

“I- I need you to cum for me...cum inside me. Fill me up baby...wanna feel you so deep inside me. Make a mess of my cunt. Please.”

“C-can you give me another?” He’s breathless, his pace faltering when he feels your walls squeeze around him tightly with every pass of his cock against your heated core.

‘I- I don’t think I can...too much baby.”

“Please, for me. Cum for me o-one last time...oh god, I’m close sweetheart. B-but I wanna cum with you. Please oh fuck- oh god, I- I’m fucking coming.” He growls into the crook of your neck as he rubs at your clit harshly, crying your name like a prayer as he feels you milk him dry. His thrusts are desperate and you pull on his hair harder than you intend when you feel his cum fill you up. Marcus can barely breathe as he shoots his seed deep in your pussy and feels you pulse around him. He continues to buck against you, the caveman mindset telling him to breed you and fill you up until you can’t take it anymore.

He stays motionless for a few minutes before he finally registers that you probably need to rest. As carefully as possible, Marcus pulls out and cradles your body against him as he lays you on your back. He looks down at you and smiles when he sees the mess he’s made between your thighs. He tries to get off the bed to bring you a cup of water and grab a wet towel when you reach out and pull him by his wrist.

“I need to clean you up sweetheart.” He tries to reason with you but you shake your head and pull harder on his hand so he could sit next to you.

“No just- come here. I need you. Please.” Marcus doesn’t have to be told twice. He lays down next to you and kisses your forehead when you cuddle into his arms. He draws circles on your shoulder and back when he feels your fingers play with his chest hair.

“Are you alright baby?” Marcus asks and pulls his head back when you hum a soft ‘yes.’ He searches your expression for any sign of discomfort, and when he finds none, he rests his head back again and lets you explore his skin.

“Hmm...did you know that hair was used in some ancient spells to ensure that the desired outcome occurred?” You break the silence after a while and Marcus furrows his eyebrows at you when you look up from his chest and meet his face.

“Uhh should I be worried Y/N?” He asks almost immediately and laughs when you panic and try to retract what you just said.

“Oh god sorry that- I didn’t mean...Jesus, I still need to work on my bedside manner.”

“I was kidding sweetheart. I actually enjoy listening to people talking about their interests, it’s a little calming. And no, I didn’t know that. What kind of spells are we talking about here?” You’re surprised by his response but say nothing and continue to follow the soft trail of hairs down his chest.

“Well, there are lots of curses that didn’t need hair but it was better if they were added...for efficacy and such. But the most common spells that required little curls like these were love spells, which technically are also curses but it sounds better when you say that it’s just a spell.”

“Are you trying to tell me something doctor?” Marcus can’t help but tease you again and he snorts when you sit up on your elbow and try to justify what you just said. He pulls you back into his arms and brushes your hair aside to take a better look at you.

“Oh no no, I just- I tend to think about this stuff at random times. Sorry. I swear I’m too much of a wimp to actually try anything. You never know if the desired outcome has any side effects...”

“No need to apologize baby. Besides, I don’t think you’ll ever need love magic with me.” The admission is out before he can stop himself and he cringes at himself, hoping that you don’t misunderstand him.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Agent Pike?” The hint of amusement in your tone lets him know that you didn’t mind teasing him back and he blinks a few times at the ceiling before he turns to gaze into your eyes.

“Well, you’re doing fine on your own being this amazing human being. You’re mesmerizing when you’re lecturing, you’re confident in your skills and knowledge, your intelligence is- I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface with the case today. And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen...we could work a bit on your art choices but-”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder and try to slither away from him but he’s too quick and wraps his arms around you before you can get off the bed.

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding...your art choices are the cherry on top.” Marcus nudges your nose with his and leans down to kiss you. He smiles when you moan beneath him. But the kiss is cut short when you push him away suddenly and narrow your eyes at him.

“You never told me how you knew which ones I commissioned.”

“Ugh no please, you’re going to think I’m a pervert.” Marcus falls back on the bed and tries to hide behind his arms.

“Oh yeah?” You slowly trail your hand down his stomach and wrap it around his cock. It’s all Marcus needs to lower his arm and look down to where you’re touching him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back when you lean forward and nip at his jaw.

“B-baby fuck...oh god, please. I- I need a few more minutes and-”

“Tell me, please.” You cut him off with a bite to the shoulder, giggling when he thrusts up into your loose hold to get more friction.

“I- I was picturing the two of us...fuck, re-reenacting those scenes and those two jumped out more...more than the third.” He can barely speak through the haze you’ve put him in, and moans your name when you reach down and fondle his balls just as you whisper in his ears.

“How scandalous of you Agent Pike!”

“Sweetheart, please.” Marcus whines for you, the arm around your back pulling you flush to him and giving him perfect access to your breasts. He wraps his lips around one nipple and softly sucks on it as you continue to stroke his cock.

“Hmm, I like the sound of you begging...baby. Tell me, do you by any chance have your handcuffs on you?” The question catches him off guard, and he pulls away to look at you, finding a different kind of fire dancing behind your eyes.

“Fuck…I- uhh, they’re in the car. W-wait where are you going?” Marcus regrets his answer as soon as you let go of him and jump off of the bed. He watches as you run to the bathroom without answering him, only to return a few seconds later with bright red handcuffs clanking between your fingers.

“To get my own set Agent. Like you said, you and I need to get acquainted.” You unlock them as you walk back to the bed and straddle his thighs. Marcus looks at you with adoration and softly nods at you when you silently ask him if you could cuff him to the headboard of your bed.

“I’m yours sweetheart, take what you want.”

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@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @fan-of-encouragement @evelynseventyr

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike/reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal #yall don't understand how much I love this fucking character #he's literally the softest #and he deserves the world #ugh #anyway

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