#more noise than signal the next few days

[vren-diagram]

Democrats could've won if both Joe and Kamala had committed ritual suicide in April. They still can.

[writefinch]

second puberty

You're a totally normal boy until one day at school you notice that your nipples just kinda itch.

It's weird and it keeps happening for like a week and you think you should tell your parents and maybe go to the doctor but school is busy and you've got a lot on your mind and one day in English class another student says "bro what's that on your shirt"

There's a tiny damp patch spreading through the navy blue fabric of your sweatshirt, right over your nipple, a pale bead welling up on the cotton. As you move you see a matching wet spot on the other side of your chest.

And the guy on the desk across suddenly shuts the fuck up because he knows what's happening to you and doesn't want to let the whole class know because that's just cruel and clumsy but he goes so quiet and looks so horrified that the people around you notice

Oh, you still try to hide it. A few students know, sure. You're being talked about, but it's just talk. You come to school in baggy clothes and tape sanitary pads over your nipples. You even wear a sports bra to flatten them down.

You collapse in gym class the next week. Mastitis. Blocked milk ducts. Swelling, redness, fever. A few more days and it would have gone septic.

Then you have to show the nurse. You're too weak to put the breast pumps on. The nurse acts like you're testing her patience. It feels more like a TSA patdown than a medical procedure.

Later, with your parents, a doctor gives you the rundown. Bovine anthropoidism. It's not a genetic disorder, though it sometimes runs in families. You're turning into a cowgirl. Its progress can be halted with a full orchiectomy, but no doctor in any decent insurance network will perform that operation on a healthy young man with no children.

Your parents are upset. Your mom is acting like it's her fault, and your dad is acting like it's your fault. They had to cancel their weekend plans to take you shopping for a breast pump.

You learn that the thick, dull haze over your mind wasn't feverishness. The mental fog is your body's signal to stop what you're doing and get milked. As soon as those ducts are full, trying to think about anything is like trying to do a math test with a stinking cold.

Your male puberty stops overnight. Those dozen wisps of hair on your chin, which you shave every five or six days, are the most you're getting. You didn't put on much muscle in high school, but you're going to lose what little you did. You're a lot hungrier all of a sudden, like you've always missed a meal. Your parents don't like that. You feel like you need an extra three hours of sleep each night. They don't like that either.

When the news gets out at school, the girls you know are mostly ok to you. The boys are weird and mean about it. Punching you in the chest to see if the rumors are true, mooing at you, making gross milkshake-slurping noises as they walk past you in the halls.

Your test scores drop a little from the stress and the distractions but it seems to have a serious knock-on effect where teachers just… don't take you seriously as a student any more. They all think cows are just dopey all the time.

They get really annoyed that you keep asking to be excused to get your breasts milked. They think it's a sign that you're distracted or just trying to avoid the lesson, openly telling you that you're distracting the whole class every time you slouch off to the nurses office.

Some boys spread a rumour that you did this to yourself deliberately. You ordered bovine hormones because you're a weird pervert. Another goes that you tried to convince another boy to start taking bovine hormones because you're gay and a creep

After that the boys bathrooms are basically unusable for you. Boys start taking their phones out and live streaming you like you're Chris Chan. One of your "friends" mentions to you, out of faithful devotion to your welfare, that you've got your own kiwifarms thread.

You delete your socials after that. The harrassment dies down and in the next school year you find that you can recover a small social circle, as long as you're careful. You even go to a couple of parties.

Your first kiss is an assault from a guy whose name you don't know, who puts a hand on your tit until he feels his palm get wet, and presses his lips to yours as you open your mouth in shock. You hadn't paid him much mind before that. You'd been stealing glances at the pretty girl he was striking out with, and he took you for easier prey.

He was right, you think.

Bovine puberty stops normal erections from happening. You only realise that you can still even get erections when another boy rests his hand on your lower back. It's really hard to figure out what your body wants. It's harder still to figure out what you want. You don't know what's your body and what's your brain and what's just you freaking out like a dumb teenager. You seem to have lost your fight response. It's all freeze or flight now whenever your hackles get up. Anger just turns to fear and timidity.

Really you're lucky. You're still probably going to college. Yeah you got harassed a lot and turned into a bit of a hermit but hey, more time to study. Your family obviously resent it and think you made a stupid mistake but they don't kick you out or anything. You aren't traumatized or anything like that.

School kinda sucks for a lot of people, you guess.

[koalapastries-writes]

SHOTS ARE SCARY!

trans ftm!formula one x male!reader

request: trans driver asking for help with their T-shot not because their scared but you do it better (they are scared) - 🐺

summary: your boyfriend is absolutely not scared of doing his own shot, he's just letting you feel included!!!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of needles and medical anxiety (sort of), mentions of the fia being annoying (franco), my first attempt at actual writing (blurbs? imagines? one-shots? i don't know what these are)

contains: charles leclerc, franco colapinto, kimi raikkonen, + oscar piastri

charles leclerc:

you were lounging on the bed while waiting for charles, your boyfriend, to finish the post-race debrief with ferrari. it didn't usually take long. even if it did, the hotels f1 drivers stayed at were ridiculously comfortable—it didn't make you eager to go back to your little apartment.

finally, you heard the beeping of the door signaling that it had been unlocked.

"hey baby!" you called out from the bed.

charles appeared around the corner with a grin. before you knew it, he'd jumped onto the bed and assumed his usual position curled up with you.

"hello." he giggled, swatting at your phone to get you to pay attention to him properly. "i forgot to do my shot this morning. wanna help me?"

you let out a half-assed indignant noise when charles swatted at your phone. almost like second nature, one of your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you kissed his forehead. "nah, i'm good tonight. you remember where it's packed?"

charles' grin faltered slightly.

it wasn't that he was scared to do his own shot. no, not at all! that would be silly.

... but, yeah, he was a lot less nervous when you did it for him.

"oh," he murmured, reluctantly sitting up by himself. charles glanced at you again with a pout. "please?"

that got your attention. it became pretty clear that your boyfriend hadn't really been asking if you wanted to help him, but if you were willing to help him. and that answer would always, always be 'yes'.

"my bad, baby, i thought you meant that protein milkshake-shot thing," you said. both of you knew it was a lie. neither of you cared. not when charles beamed at you like that. "i definitely need to help you with your t shot. for ... science?"

"for science," charles agreed.

"for science."

franco colapinto:

"amor?" your boyfriend stuck his head around the bathroom door. "do you wanna help me?"

it was his very first t shot as a formula one driver. sure, franco had been on t for a while, but he had to stop for a few months because the fia had to 'reassess whether it was appropriate' for him to take it after williams signed him. and in the few weeks he'd been off it, well ... he'd kind of built up how much the needle would hurt more than he usually got to between doses.

you looked at him in mild amusement. "are you scared, franquito?"

"... no."

"oh, alright. i'm good, then. i'll just be here reading if you need me," you answered teasingly.

it was pretty obvious—to you, at least—that franco was scared about giving himself the shot. he always was. every week he'd insist that he would do the next one by himself. but every 'next time' he'd end up asking (or begging, if you were feeling mean) you to help him.

franco groaned, emerging from the bathroom and slumping down next to you on the sofa. "porfa, mi amor, necesito tu ayuda. lo sabes."

"you know you can do it yourself, yes?" you asked softly, hearing him whine and hide his face in your shoulder. "okay, okay! i'll help you. big baby."

"i am not a baby!" franco protested halfheartedly.

"mm, yeah you are."

"yeah, i am."

kimi raikkonen:

"hey."

you looked up from the sink. kimi moved so quietly you never heard it when he woke up.

"morning, love," you murmured, kissing his cheek when he walked around the kitchen counter to stand beside you.

kimi hummed, a light pink tinting his cheeks. he was only ever like this you. and maybe seb, if he'd had enough drinks. but mostly you. "shot day."

"monday already?" you asked with an easy smile. "i picked up your refill last week. should be in the cupboard in the bathroom."

"it is," kimi confirmed, looking at you expectantly.

finishing the last dish from last night's dinner, you stacked in the drying rack and dried your hands before turning to face your boyfriend properly. "what's that look for?"

kimi frowned. to most people, anything other than unadulterated joy was pretty indistinguishable on his face. to you, however, it was easy to see the little differences in his expressions.

"why are you in the kitchen?" he asked, as if that was enough to let you know why he was frowning.

"i was doing the dishes ...?"

"but it's monday."

you paused. what could possibly be the correlation between mondays and kimi's distaste for you being in the kitchen?

and then it clicked.

"you want me to come do your shot for you?"

kimi nodded, clearly pleased with himself for getting you to understand without actually having to say it.

"you can just ask, y'know." you chuckled. "c'mon, iceman."

this time, the colour on kimi's cheeks wasn't just a tinge of pink.

oscar piastri:

"babe, have you seen my shot stuff?" oscar yelled.

the two of you had just finished moving to monaco, so everything was still a little ... messy. to be fair, with oscar, it was usually messy. now it was just more messy.

"in the cabinet under the sink!" you called back, staring at the wall of boxes you had accidentally created, which made it somewhat difficult to get to the bed. "i put that blue tape stuff on the box!"

oscar shouted back a sort of muffled noise of acknowledgement, rifling through the yet-to-be organized cabinet in search of the little bottles of testosterone and the syringes.

"aha!" he mumbled triumphantly. the supplies lined up next to the basin, oscar sat on the closed toilet lid. "okay, i'm ready!"

you gave back a half-distracted congratulations. it probably should've, but it didn't occur to you that that was oscar's way of trying to get you to help him. not that he was scared. no, he just ... wanted to spend time with you. while you were effectively stabbing him. yeah, that was it. totally not scared.

"babe?"

oscar poked his head into the bedroom to see you staring at the wall of boxes with your hands on your hips. he rolled his eyes lightheartedly and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his forehead on your back.

"um, hello?" he teased, poking your stomach playfully. "you are slacking on your boyfriend duties, mister."

you gasped over-dramatically, turning in oscar's grip to look at him with a scandalised expression. "lies! slander! dishonor on you! dishonor on your cow!"

oscar groaned with a laugh. he started subtly dragging you down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"dishonor on your cow!" oscar returned, watching the gears turn in your head and finally click into place when you saw how he'd lined up his hrt supplies for you to help him with. "see? i told you you were slacking."

you scoffed slightly and pushed him down onto the toilet seat gently. "well excuse me for trying to find a way for us to sleep tonight."

"you're excused," oscar said cheekily, pulling up the hem of his shorts so you had access to his leg.

"brat." you grabbed the sanitiser wipes and, as always, got distracted by oscar's thighs. "damn, baby."

oscar blushed. it only got deeper when you leaned down to press kisses to his inner thighs as you always did before wiping down the injection site to make sure it was clean.

"why are you still so surprised every time you see them," he grumbled. "you see them, like, all the time."

you shrugged, grinning at him as you got the syringe ready and wiped down the injection site. "what can i say? you're too hot to get used to. whenever i see any part of you you always look better than i remember."

"sap."

"yeah, whatever." you pinched his other thigh gently. "deep breath."

oscar inhaled.

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: first time doing full writing, let me know if it's awkward or something!

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @miloformula123fan

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! 🙂 i was wondering if i could request something with kento nanami spanking reader? i don’t have any specific plot in mind, it could just be straight up porn lol! with daddy kink included? thank you! 💗

mhm mhm cause nanami is just so brat tamer daddy like 😵‍💫😵‍💫

kento nanami x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), spanking, daddy kink

Another smack echoes between the walls of your bedroom when your fiancé's hand collides with your ass again. A whine follows it and you squirm a little over his thighs. You'd only gotten a few lashes so far, but Kento knew what he was doing. He knew where to hit and how hard.

"Count," he states flatly, paying your whimpers no mind.

"T-three," you stutter out.

"Good."

Again, his response comes out simple and curt. Technically it was a word of praise, but it didn't feel like one. When Kento really praised you, there was no doubt of his intention. It came out as a coo with an affectionate touch to accompany it. Right now, the only touch you got was another spank.

"Ow," you whine. Your bottom lip puffs out in a signal of your displeasure.

His own mouth remains in a thin, flat line. His palm comes down on you again, leaving your skin stinging.

"No pouting, little brat," he chides, "You were being so bad earlier it must be what you wanted."

"I wasn't being bad," you huff.

That earns you an even harder slap.

"Well you are right now because I know you know better than to talk back," he says.

In truth, you had been trying to rile your boyfriend up earlier. The two of you had been out with some of his friends. You were bored since most of the conversation didn't involve you, so you tried playing with Kento a bit. Brushing your hand over his lap beneath the table, dragging your foot up his calf, giving him your best fuck-me eyes.

"Keep it up and you won't be sitting comfortably for the next few days," he'd said to you under his breath. But you didn't heed the warning.

It reached the boiling point when his friend Satoru noticed how tense he was and cracked a little joke about it. Less than ten minutes later, he excused the two of you and practically dragged you by your arm back to the apartment.

"I'm sorry, daddy," you whimper.

"I'm sure you are now that you're being punished," he says. His hand rains down on your backside in rapid succession, striking the center hard and fast.

Your eyes screw shut, and you kick your feet at the pain. More squeaks of discomfort fall from your lips. Your thighs shift against each other too as arousal blooms in your belly. He gives your hips a rough yank to secure you in the position he wants.

"If you keep thrashing like that, I'll have to move onto something more severe. Maybe you're wanting the belt," he says, letting the threat hang in the air.

Your head hangs forward, and you make a noise that's a mix between whining and sighing.

"I'm actually really sorry, daddy. I'm sorry for back talking and being bad around your friends. I don't know what else you want me to say," you plead.

"All I want is for you to learn your lesson," he says, "How many times have I had to put you over my knee for the same reasons? You can say your sorry all you want, but you're staying like this until I feel I've gotten it through your head."

"That could be like forever," you complain.

Kento smirks a little at the remark, but he doesn't let you know it amused him. He continues to smack your ass, relishing the way you fight to keep still.

"I've learned," you mewl as your resistance comes out in little twitches. You were getting antsy now not only from your aching cheeks but also from the increasingly intense throbbing between your legs.

"That's what you said last time," he says.

"But I actually have this time," you defend, "I know I'm not supposed to be like that around your friends. I just wanted my daddy's attention."

"That's always what you want, baby, but what has daddy taught you? What's the rule?" he asks.

"I have to be patient," you whimper, "I have to wait till daddy gives me permission to touch."

"That's right," he says. He takes a break from spanking you to soothingly rub your burning skin. "I know you can be a good girl. You choose not to be. That is what I have to train out of you."

"I'm gonna be good after this. I promise," you assure.

"Are you sure? Because you know you won't get to cum for a month if you break a promise," he taunts while gently kneading your battered cheeks.

You bite your lip before revising your statement. "Ok maybe not promise, but I'll still try super hard."

"Alright, I'll accept that," he says, "Since you're so committed to being good now, only fifteen more, and I'll let you up."

"Fifteen?" you whine incredulously.

"Yes, fifteen. And I don't want to hear anything about it. I'm already being lenient with your half-promise. Don't make me change my mind," he says.

Your head hangs again and you huff, but you don't say anything. His hand spanks you first on your right cheek and then on your left. You then get a few towards the center for good measure. You count out each one like the good girl you're trying to convince him you are.

His eyes flit between your head and your backside. He can tell the pain is starting to build up for you by the way you're shifting. Your noises are getting higher pitched too. He can almost hear the tears starting to brim your waterline.

After another round of spanking, you finally whimper out the last number just as a few tears slip down your cheeks. His hand goes back to rubbing your skin a few times before he flips you over and cradles you to his chest.

"That's my girl. You took that so well," he murmurs and kisses your forehead.

"Thank you, daddy," you sniffle and look up at him with your tearful eyes.

He nods and brings his fingers up to swipe away your tears. His thumb glides down your jaw and then slips between your lips. He watches you gently suck on it for a moment before he slides it out and leans in to kiss you. When he pulls back, he looks down at you.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart. Let's just see if you can remember your lesson this time, hm?" he says softly as he boosts you to your feet and squeezes your hips, "We'll get you cleaned up and then maybe, I'll try to use my hands to help you feel better. Only if you can keep being good."

[puck-luck]

this was born out of a text exchange between me and cappy where i rewatched the "coming home" youtube video and quinn had the audacity to bend over the edge of the table like a SLUT. my message about that moment was "I HATE him for putting his leg up on the edge like this (and you know what? Bea would fuck him on the pool table fs)". Cappy replied: "also - circling back to the fucking on the pool table. yes i do think that should be included in bea’s book. love that both girls fuck their men on the pool table". then I discussed how Bea is going to ask how it was for Honey because position-wise, she wasn't super comfy "And then honey’s going to be like “bruh” and then bea will be like “aw that’s so cute of us, we fucked our guys in the same place 😊 we’re basically semen sisters” and honey is going to be so affronted". So that's what inspired this. I started having visions when I was supposed to work on my grad school essay, so I needed to write it down to get it out of my mind.

HERE! is the beaquinn pool table sex. if you want to know what's happening with honeytrev at the same time as this, you can reread days 30-33 in Chapter 5 of stg. LOVE YOU! say it back. ENJOY!

[5.1K WORDS]

Bea almost doesn’t want to leave Quinn’s bed when she hears the front door creak open, signaling the brothers’s return from Las Vegas. It’s warm in here and the pillow smells like Quinn. Her t-shirt will have to do. It’s Quinn’s old yellow Michigan t-shirt, which falls big on her but not big enough to cover her behind. The hardwood floor is cold as she makes her way out of bed and throws the sheets back into place, tiptoeing down the hall and the stairs without making the floor creak too much. Bea undoes the messy braid on the back of her head, knowing how Quinn likes it when her hair is loose for him to play with. She shakes out her hair as she creeps down the stairs, the whispers of the brothers getting louder with each step.

“Jack, the door–” Luke hisses just before the front door bangs shut.

Bea stifles a giggle by pressing her fingers over her lips, still hiding in the shadows of the staircase. 

The boys stand in almost identical poses, shoulders tense and heads ducked. They’re waiting for one of their housemates to wake up and get mad at them for making so much noise. They’re lucky– Cole’s been dead to the world since about 10:30 and Trevor went to bed around 11 after he talked with Honey. Bea doesn’t know exactly what happened, since Honey is still so unsure about this Trevor thing, with good reason, but she knows that Honey had to remind him to think before he speaks. Bea is so glad she doesn’t have that problem– Quinn loves to think before he speaks. The other boys are less thoughtful, but she’s never had to chew them out for saying something stupid.

“Close one, eh?” Jack whispers, although he’s bad at whispering, so his voice just seems softer than normal.

Bea steps out of the shadows, staying close to the wall like it’ll camouflage her bright yellow shirt. 

“Bea,” Quinn breathes out, noticing her immediately. He sets his suitcase down next to him, a smile growing on his face when he recognizes her outfit.

“You’re late,” Bea whispers, matching his grin. “You said 1:30.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, but he doesn’t seem all that sorry.

“There was a crash on 77,” Luke adds. “Pretty bad. Probably better that it happened in the middle of the night, since there weren’t as many cars on the road.”

Bea hums. “That’s sad.”

“Have you been up this whole time?” Jack asks. “It’s late.”

Bea shakes her head. “Slept a little bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack grins. “Whose bed?”

Stupid. Bea snorts, taking a few more steps until she’s in front of him. She lifts her hand and squishes his cheeks between her fingers. “Not yours,” she says. “G’night, Jacky.”

He makes a kissing noise at her, then steps back and bumps into the table in the hall. “Oops,” he mumbles. “Night, Bea.”

Luke echoes a goodnight and pats Bea on the back, holding both his and Quinn’s suitcases in his hands. The brothers squeeze past her, leaving Quinn and Bea in the dark alone.

She grins at him, bouncing a little bit on her tiptoes out of excitement. She’s missed him. Quinn smiles back, his eyes glinting in the darkness. He’s the first to step forward, sweeping her up into his arms in a tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, letting his arms push her shirt up so that he can touch the smooth expanse of her back. Bea wraps her arms over his shoulders and plays with his hair, breathing him in. He smells a little bit like airport, but the scent of his sandalwood shampoo is stronger than ever. 

“You shower this morning?” Bea asks, pinching the close-cut strands on the back of his head between her fingers. 

“God, I knew you were going to comment on that,” Quinn groans, pulling away from her. His hands rest on Bea’s waist, pinkies brushing the band of her cheeky underwear. “I was on a plane for like five hours, babe.”

Bea’s stomach twists at the pet name, her cheeks turning a little red and her mouth widening somehow further. She admires Quinn for a moment, eyes cataloging how his face looks sharper with his stubble only just growing back. Her eyes pass over the scar on his cheek. Honey only just noticed it the other night. It’s one of Bea’s favorite things about his face– tied for first with, well, everything else. 

She realizes that she’s gone too long without replying, mostly because the edges of Quinn’s lips are tilting upward in an amused way.

“Hey, winner,” Bea greets, tilting her head to kiss him hello. “Missed you.”

Quinn breathes out a tiny laugh, kissing her again like a reply. “I missed you, too. Was thinking about you the whole time.”

Bea faux-gasps. “You were thinking about me, but you didn’t even thank me in your speech?”

Quinn chuckles, a little louder this time. His thumb runs along her hip, petting the skin there. It makes Bea’s sides feel warm, like the friction is sending shocks through her body. “Oh, come on. How would that have sounded?”

“‘And thank you to Bea McLean, the best person I’ve ever met’...?” Bea teases, blinking at Quinn. “Obviously. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Quinn shakes his head, still smiling fondly. He rolls his eyes a little bit, but he concedes. “I’ll work it in next time.”

“I’m expecting it. First back-to-back Norris winner since Nicklas Lindstrom, yeah?”

“Lidstrom, baby,” Quinn corrects. He pulls Bea close again, hugging her for the second time. His hands rub up and down her back again and Bea swears that she can feel his fingerprints as he moves. “You tired?”

“I slept a little. Are you tired?”

“Had a coffee at the airport ‘cause I’m stupid,” Quinn replies. His voice turns sarcastic, overly dramatic and trying to get her sympathy. “And the boys were draining me, they’re so annoying.”

Bea pats his chest. “You love them,” she reminds him.

Quinn’s easy to break. “Yeah,” he agrees. “They’re pretty great.” He pauses, eyes flickering over her face akin to how she surveyed him earlier. “Wanna go watch a movie?”

“Movie will put me to sleep. We can play a round of pool, if you want. Keep your winning streak going,” Bea teases. 

“You just want to bend over in front of me,” Quinn bites back, laughing. His hands go to her behind, covering Bea’s cheeks with his palms. “Distract me with your panties.”

“It would be more distracting if I wasn’t wearing them,” Bea points out, wiggling back into Quinn’s touch. 

“I think you’re already distracting enough in my Michigan shirt,” Quinn says. “C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You can fill me in on the past couple days while you lose.”

He’s got that playful tone in his voice again, the one that Bea loves. It’s so domestic, the way that she and Quinn talk to each other. They’ve got a vibe about them, something that fits like a puzzle piece, but Bea is getting too far ahead of herself. It’s not even July. They’re just having fun, by her own design. So what if he calls her ‘baby’ and it makes her stomach flip-flop every time?

They’re still trying to be quiet as they head down to the basement, making sure to close the door behind them. Quinn racks the balls and Bea chooses her usual stick– she only knows which one it is because it’s got a chip about ⅓ of the way down the shaft– and starts to tell him what he missed. 

“Honey tried to ban Trevor from the store because he’s bad at being a person,” Bea starts. “I don’t know the drama, but apparently he doesn’t think.”

“Have they fucked yet?” Quinn asks, rounding the table and stationing himself to break the rack. Bea never breaks when they play. She’s not very good at hitting one ball, much less strategically breaking up a group of fifteen. “Or are they still stuck on him fingering her in the back room?”

“They’re still stuck. She likes him so much, though, she just won’t admit it,” Bea continues. She looks at the table. Quinn made one of the stripes in off of his break– 14 maybe– so he’s trying to pick his second ball now.

“She’ll get there. It’s kind of like a tree falling, isn’t it,” Quinn says. He lines up the 11-ball with the pocket and knocks it in, then purposefully bumps off the wall in a meaningless shot so that Bea has a chance. “Takes a while, but once she’s down, she’s down.”

Hmm. “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Bea tells him. “That’s smart, Q. You’re right.” She eyes the 5-ball, since it’s kind of in the way of all of the ones she wants to get to. Might as well move it. Bea crosses the table and shoots it off to the other side of the table. A problem for later.

“You can’t try to lose on purpose,” Quinn chides.

“I’m not trying to lose on purpose, I just wanted to get that one out of the way,” Bea argues back. 

Quinn rolls his eyes and sighs. “You should’ve shot at the 7.”

Bea side eyes him. “Don’t tell me what I should’ve done. Mansplainer.”

Quinn shrugs. “Just trying to help.” He focuses on his next shot. “What’d you do after we left?”

“Worked. I dragged Honey here to watch the Awards, we played Uno– I won, by the way, and I’ll school you next time we play–” Quinn interrupts her with a laugh, narrowly missing a pocket when the ball bounces off the corner edge. “I called you after you won, and then we broke out the hot tub earlier today.”

That catches Quinn’s interest. “Oh, yeah?” He asks. “You took a dip? Did Cole try anything stupid?”

Bea hears the insinuation immediately. “No, Cole and I didn’t hook up while you were gone,” she says with a tinge of fake exasperation in her voice. “I told you over the phone on Thursday, I only have sex with men who have won the James Norris trophy.”

Quinn laughs aloud, throwing his head back. “How long is that going to last?” He teases. “Just so I can know when I’m back to graciously sharing you with the other boys.”

Bea groans. When they’re alone, Quinn always flaunts how he was the first and how he’s her favorite. He gets a kick out of acting like he’s special and Bea pretends to hate it. He is special, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I can still go up to Jack’s bed now, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Bea leans over to shoot at one of her solids. It bounces off a wall and changes directions. “That’s all that happened this weekend, really. Tell me about Vegas. Lose any money?”

“Tons,” Quinn confirms, but the cheeky grin on his face tells her that he’s stretching the truth. He starts to talk about how he and his brothers snuck Luke into the casino with a well-placed bribe to the doorman and autographs for his kids. The stories from the weekend pile up as Quinn and Bea mill around the table, taking shots and sinking them in Quinn’s case, missing them in Bea’s. He tells her about the people he saw, the things he did, the interviews he had, that he got an offer to be on the cover of NHL 25 but he’s going to hold out until they let him bring Jack and Luke with him, and that he’s happy he got to see his mom and dad. He officially tells Bea that they’re coming for Fourth of July, although that surprise had already been spoiled by Trevor on Thursday. 

Quinn wins– of course. Bea wasn’t going to win this game unless he intentionally threw it, like her first time playing him. They’re past the intentional throws now. Bea goes to update the board– honor code is highly valued in this house– and Quinn pockets the rest of the balls so that everything is nice and clean for tomorrow. There’s no sense in leaving them out. She can hear Quinn sneaking up behind her.

“You look good in my shirt, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing Bea’s shoulder. “I gotta get you in Michigan gear more often.”

“You know, if they ever play Carolina again, you’ll have to pry my UNC gear from my cold, dead body,” Bea says, reaching a hand around and threading her fingers through Quinn’s hair again.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I pried the clothes off this body,” Quinn says, self-satisfied smirk evident in his voice. He turns Bea in his grip so that she’s facing him. He kisses her, more than a greeting peck this time. “You tired yet?”

Once again, Bea can see right through his question. “Not a chance. I’ve been waiting for my winner to get home.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Quinn praises, voice low. He captures Bea’s lips again, moving against her in the comfortable way that they’ve adopted in the weeks since they’ve been seeing each other. 

Bea lets Quinn lead this time, his hands guiding her closer. He’s got a palm under her shirt, resting on the small of her back, and the other cradles her face gently, like something precious. Bea knows that it’s a casual thing, but she likes to lose herself in moments like this. Quinn is just so… all-consuming. He’s like a really loud and unexpected clap of thunder, one that rumbles on for longer than you expect. His touch makes Bea jump, sometimes.

Her hands explore him a bit, like she doesn’t get to touch him all the time. The difference is that Bea finds something new every time and she never tires of getting her hands on Quinn. She knows that he tends to be insecure when it comes to his build, which comes from years of being an awkward teen with a nose that seemed too big for his face and acne that riddled his forehead, but Bea can’t imagine Quinn as anything other than perfect.

He’d be slightly more perfect if he had a bedroom to himself. 

“I feel bad kicking Luke out,” Bea whispers to Quinn when they break for air. “You guys got in so late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn replies. He brings his hands to the backs of Bea’s thighs and lifts her up, guiding her legs around his waist. “We don’t need a bed.”

Bea makes a face. “We stay fuckin’ in the bed, Q.” Lord knows she’s not against having sex in an odd place– the back of Griffin’s patrol car, for one– but she and Quinn haven’t really branched out yet. “I didn’t know you were so adventurous.”

“What can I say,” Quinn teases. “You bring something out in me. Let’s try something new.” He nips at her bottom lip, then drags his tongue against the area he bit. “It’ll be fun.”

Bea giggles. He gets so flirty and touchy, sometimes. “What are you thinking, Crazy?” She teases him right back with the nickname, bringing her index finger to the curve of his nose. It really is the perfect size and shape– so appealing. 

She’s distracted by a memory, from the second time they hooked up. Quinn had told her that he didn’t get to do everything he wanted the first time, and when she asked what he meant, he’d licked his first two fingers and slid the wet digits against the fabric of her underwear. She’d gotten much more wet when he made his way between her legs with his mouth, kissing and licking over her folds and entrance as the fabric molded to her anatomy. It was only then that he’d removed the panties and gotten his mouth on her properly– the vision often comes to her when she’s trying to sleep at home, alone. His nose had been so nice then, bumping against her clit as he’d ravished her.

Bea’s stomach grows a little warmer at the reminder. 

“I want you right here,” Quinn says, breaking her from the spell. He sits Bea down on the edge of the pool table, the cool wood of the edges pressing against her thighs while the felt of the table scrapes against the hem of her shirt. He stands between her legs and places a hand behind her head, kissing her and leaning forward so that she’ll lay back. Once Bea is laying down, flat underneath Quinn, he pushes her shirt up and takes it off. 

The felt of the table feels weird under her bare skin, but it’s not bad. The bite of the ridge of the table is worse against her thighs, but Bea doesn’t speak up about it because Quinn’s removing his shirt.

The moonlight from outside makes him seem paler than he is, but it creates a beautiful series of shadows across his body that emphasize his muscles. His arms seem like they’re bulging more, his chest has more definition, and his jawline– oh, his jawline. Bea didn’t realize just how much his long hair hid that from her.

“I like your haircut,” Bea says, not realizing how silly and belated it sounds when she’s almost entirely naked on the pool table below him. 

Quinn chuckles, smiling at her. One side of his lips lifts higher than the other, which is how she knows that he’s blushing, even when the moonlight hides it. “Thanks, baby,” he says softly, leaning down again to find her lips. His cock, still trapped by his pants, fits perfectly against the place where she wants him most. 

She grinds up against him, drawing a low moan from the back of Quinn’s throat. He placates her with kiss after kiss down her neck and between her tits, as far down as he can go while he keeps his pelvis in line with her own. He’s fiddling with his zipper with one hand, kneading Bea’s right breast with his left hand. The skin of his fingertips is a little dry, but his thumb catches her nipple just right and Bea keens, her vision getting a little darker.

“Missed me that much, hm?” Quinn teases in his low voice. “Two days I’m gone, baby, and you’re this needy? What am I going to do with you when I’m gone for a week, or two?”

Bea reaches to his hair and brings his lips to hers, to silence him. She’s beyond talking and beyond teasing. She wants him inside, like, yesterday. 

“Relax, I’m coming,” Quinn assures Bea, mumbling his words against her lips. He finally takes his hand from her breast to shove his pants and underwear down, stepping out of them so he can move better. He drags his tip through her folds, her wetness gathering along his skin. “Did you mean it?” He asks. “What you said on the phone?”

Bea pauses, wracking her brain. She said a lot of things on the phone to Quinn. She meant them all. She’s about to say yes, just so he can get on with it, but then she spots the way he’s biting his lower lip and his eyes have turned hungry. They’re trained on the place where he’s nudging his tip against her clit, slit bubbling out precum and dripping on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“What part?” Bea asks, captivated by the look on Quinn’s face. 

His eyes rise to hers and he looks positively intoxicated by whatever he’s thinking. Bea’s skin crawls a little, but not in a bad way. In an excited way– whatever Quinn’s referring to, he wants badly. Bea wants to see him give into that.

“That you’d reward me for winning,” he prompts, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips, which have parted in recognition. “By letting me fuck you bare.” His jaw clenches a bit once he says it, but Bea reads him. He’s not sure what she’ll say and he seems cautious to show his deeper thoughts on that, but his caution is betraying him anyway. Bea knows Quinn. She speaks his language, reads his tics, and understands him. He wants this.

“Norris winners get to come inside me,” Bea says, repeating the exact words that she whispered into the speaker while he stroked himself in the Las Vegas hotel bathroom. It was his tipping point, and now she understands why. “Since you won, you get to feel all of me.” Her throat seems drier than before when she swallows. Bea’s never had that before– she’s thought about it, hence why she brought it up to Quinn in the first place. It’s why she gets the shot every three months instead of relying on condoms– in case, one day, there was a man that she wanted in the most intimate way. That day is today. “Fuck me, Quinn.”

His mouth is insistent when it joins hers, tongue dragging over her own and filling the space between her lips. “Baby,” Quinn groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Preferably not right now,” Bea jokes, lifting her hips to remind him of the task at hand. 

Quinn laughs at the joke, smiling into his next kiss. “You’re so perfect,” he says. “Can’t believe I met you.”

Bea feels his words on her heart like a prick of a rose’s thorn. A little bit of herself seeps out, flooding her chest and making her eyebrows furrow with the sudden rush of emotion. “Quinn,” Bea says, feeling like she’s whining a little bit.

“Okay, okay, I won’t say it anymore,” he says, returning his focus to the space between her legs. He wastes another few seconds, entranced by his tip going through her folds, before he lines himself up and starts to shift forward. He moans quietly at the feeling, just expelling the breath from his lungs.

Bea’s surprised by the feeling too– at least, she thinks Quinn’s feeling some sort of surprise. He’s certainly relishing in the experience, trying to catalog how she feels around him with the way his eyes have drifted shut and his mouth has fallen open. She closes her eyes to do the same– and finds that it’s not that different, all in all. She just feels closer to him.

“Please, move,” Bea whispers, resting her hand on Quinn’s bicep, giving it a squeeze to prompt him. Well, that, and she wanted to feel the muscle beneath it. The moonlight had her wondering if it was really that much more defined. 

“Gimme a sec,” Quinn grits out, taking a breath. “You just feel so–” He exhales a sharp breath. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Another thorn to the chest– Bea has to breathe in deep to steel herself. This doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore.

She’s able to put that aside when Quinn starts to drag himself out of her heat, then push back in. His hair is tickling her nose with the way that his head has fallen forward in pleasure, so Bea pushes it out of the way with her palm. Quinn’s forehead has started to bead with sweat, but only barely. His eyes catch hers.

His eye contact has always made the hair on her arms stand up, increasing her pleasure tenfold. He’s so attentive to her needs, crowding into her space and touching her tits and sides in the way that makes her feel like a lighting rod gearing up for a strike. 

Quinn breaks first. “Bea,” he murmurs, dipping his head to mouth against her neck. He leaves a wet spot there, which dries in the cool, early morning air. His hand moves from her side to her thigh, spreading her legs further so that he can inch closer. He seems determined to be as close to her as he can, touching her in every way. 

“I know,” Bea replies. “Harder, Quinn. Take it. Make me come. Need you to feel my pussy when it comes on your bare cock.”

His moan is choked but loud when she says that. Quinn’s hips start to move the way she’s used to– harder, faster, determined. He’s louder like this, or maybe it’s the silence of the basement and the night that surrounds them playing tricks on Bea’s mind. It’s just– his breath is warmer and she feels like she can feel him moving in her bones. This is more.

Quinn brings his thumb to her mouth, which Bea takes greedily. She knows his moves– he wants her to get him all wet so that he can touch her somewhere she needs. She swirls her tongue around the digit, leaving as much saliva as she can on his thumb before he pulls it from her mouth with a pop. 

His hand drifts to her boobs again, finding one of her nipples and pinching it with his slick finger. He tugs a little, which prompts Bea’s spine to arch like her body is begging him to do it again. Quinn does, but he switches nipples, wiggling his hand between their bodies and taking hold of her. He kisses her again, distracting her from the mixture of pain and pleasure. All the while, he’s bucking into her desperately, displacing her on the pool table. 

Her thigh starts to spasm under his hand, twitching because she’s close. Bea wraps her arms around Quinn’s shoulders, a mirror image of the hug she gave him at the beginning of their night. He’s not the only one who wants to be close.

“Fuck, Quinn, keep going,” Bea pleads, shifting as best she can to remove the pressure of the edge of the pool table from her body. It’s a dull ache, distracting her from Quinn’s cock and the way it moves in her cunt. His tip meets the cartilage of her cervix relentlessly, turning her vision spotty with the sensation. It feels so wet with him unprotected inside of her, leaking and mixing with her own slick. 

He shifts so that he’s hovering just a few inches above her body, hands going from her thigh and her breast to both of her hips. He grips her skin, biting his lower lip to stifle his grunts. His eyes have grown focused, narrowing the way they do when he evaluates a shot on this very table or when he tries to dance between the boys on the hockey rink outside to score. He pulls her back into him, all while thrusting his hips forward, and Bea’s falling into an unfamiliar space where only Quinn has ever placed her. 

“Fuck,” Bea whines, reaching for Quinn and coming up with nothing, so she clutches at the pocket of the pool table instead. She holds the wood between her fingers, sure that she’ll either warp the table or break her fingers from the force of her grip. “‘M coming, Q.”

“Good girl,” Quinn says through his teeth, his voice gravelly. “Let me feel it.”

Bea lets out a short cry, legs still shaking beneath Quinn. The bruising pain of the edge of the table is nothing now, not when there’s a chill making its way from the depths of her stomach to the tight coil in her stomach. 

“So perfect,” Quinn says again, praising Bea as she starts to come undone on his cock.

“You,” Bea corrects, breathless and reaching for Quinn again. She finds his forearm this time, circling her fingers around his wrist. She squeezes, trying to get her point across. He can say it all he wants, but she’s going to make sure she says it back, because he is. 

Her touch sends Quinn over the edge, which only intensifies the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Bea keens lowly in the back of her throat as Quinn’s jaw drops once again, eyes falling shut as his seed flows from his cock and paints her walls. The sensation surprises Bea, much like her original reaction to his raw form, and she constricts against him by accident. That spurs Quinn on, making him choke and plaster himself against her body as his cock releases the last of his cum.

His hips twitch inside of her after he’s done and Quinn has to clear his throat and shake his head to come back to himself. Bea pets his hair through it, focused on the feeling of his freshly cut ends between her fingers. 

“You should know that I really liked that,” Quinn says first.

Bea giggles, tugging his hair. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Quinn bites the side of Bea’s neck to chastise her for teasing him. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I’m about to leak all over the pool table in your rented house if you don’t get me to a bathroom soon,” Bea replies. “Chop chop, babydoll.”

Quinn groans with the effort, but he lifts Bea from the pool table and awkwardly walks toward the basement’s bathroom, settling her on the already-lifted toilet seat– perks of living with a bunch of fucking boys, Bea thinks– and then he starts to wash his hands.

“Tired yet?” Quinn asks for a third time, looking over at Bea and grinning as he continues to rub the suds all over his hands and wrists. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Bea makes a face. “Are you trying to wash me off or something? Damn, Q, it’s been twenty seconds,” she replies instead, pretending to be offended and hurt. She doesn’t actually want to start watching a movie at 3 a.m. and Quinn should feel similarly. She wants to go to bed with him.

Quinn looks down at her vagina, very obviously, and quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I just came in you, so I feel like that’s hard to wash away.” He rinses his hands and towels them off. “So no movie?”

“Oh my God, get out of the bathroom so I can pee,” Bea exclaims, starting to laugh a bit. “You’re so weird. No movie.”

“Episode of Love Island?” Quinn asks. “Any drama I missed between Leah and Rob?”

Bea points an accusing finger at him. “I knew you enjoyed my trashy shows,” she says. “And all this time you’ve been grumbling about them.”

Quinn shrugs. “No one will believe you,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

Bea purses her lips at him. “Well, good, because that’s my thing with Cole.” Quinn acts like he’s wounded, so Bea sticks her tongue out at him. “Not everything can be about you, Q.”

“I’ll get over it,” Quinn says. “You still like me best.”

Bea matches his previous whisper. “And no one will ever believe you.”

Quinn leaves the bathroom laughing. Bea hopes he goes upstairs to get one of the good blankets for them to share when they inevitably fall asleep on the couch after Quinn turns on a movie that Bea does not see the point in watching.

The background noise does help her sleep, though, and she thinks Quinn knows that.

sigh i love beaquinn they're so dreamy best couple ever can't believe they break up at the end of the summer OOPS SORRY SPOILERS (y'all already know that, i haven't been keeping that under wraps)

[cottonlemonade]

Plan B [part 2]

word count: 1490 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

part 1 for context

Of course your staff had immediately informed you about the display from the day before when you came in the following morning. The barista even showed you a few snapshots he had taken with his phone and as much as you hated to admit it, you would have loved to have been there to see it in person. Pictures didn’t really do him justice, you thought. “Should I send those to you, manager?”, the barista asked with a knowing smirk. When you didn’t say anything but just stoically walked past him into the kitchen, you were glad when your phone buzzed a few seconds later and a small flood of pictures appeared in your chat. You cleared your throat and got to work.

Despite his regular appearances the last couple of weeks, the guy didn’t show up again the next day. Or even the day after that.

“Maybe he actually finally gave up?”, the waitress suggested with a shrug. She was counting the receipts while the barista helped you clean the espresso maker.

“I hope not. What else are we gonna do for entertainment around here?”

“How about your job.”, you suggested.

The barista let out a theatrical groan, which earned him a dish towel to the face.

At this point, a week had passed since the last time you saw the guy and although you found your thoughts wandering to his handsome smile every so often, you decided it was most likely for the better.

It was late in the evening and the café was closed for the day. The sky was gray and obviously brewing up something unpleasant so you wanted to make sure to send your team home as quickly as possible.

Soon enough, after hugs and waves goodbye, you locked the glass door from the inside and went to the kitchen to prep food for the next day.

You had just started to mash up a bowl of overripe bananas when a soft knocking made you look up and glance through the serving hatch.

The wind outside brushed past the shops with a low whistle and you could make out a very familiar shape in the dim light of the streetlamps.

More excited than you’d like to admit you made your way to the door.

“Sorry, I’m late.”, the guy’s voice was muffled through the glass.

You pointed to the Closed sign with a raised eyebrow. He put his hands together in a silent plea.

With a very big eye roll you grabbed the keys from your apron pocket and opened the door a handwidth.

“Hi.”

“Hey there.”

“I need a cake.”

“Goodbye.”, you closed the door again.

“Please!”, he called.

You shook your head and gestured to your ear to signal you couldn’t hear him.

He thought for a moment, then took out his phone and began to type something. A few seconds later he held the screen up against the glass.

Forgot to get cake for friend’s birthday.

You pulled a notepad from your belt and wrote “unfortunate” in response.

Low rumbling of thunder made you both look to the horizon. A few moments passed in which he threw you puppy dog eyes. You sighed loudly and unlocked the door again.

Not a minute too soon. With the click of the lock the first heavy raindrop hit the windowfront.

“Thank you.”, he said with a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it. But you will have to live with what’s left of the day. The ones for tomorrow still need to be decorated.”

He followed you to the counter, having the decency to look apologetic as you waved him to come along further to check out the cakes in the fridge.

He chose a white chocolate cake with strawberries and you carried it back to the front to pack it up.

“How has your last week been?”, he asked as you worked.

“Uhm, I made my best cinnamon rolls yet and finally found my TV remote. So pretty good, I’d say. How about you?”

“Not as good as yours apparently. Pretty busy. I had to do some traveling and give a bunch of presentations. Sorry I couldn’t come by to bring up that counter you keep on the blackboard.”

You closed your eyes and made an indefinable noise. You'd have to talk to your staff about the concept of discretion.

“Technically, that means I owe you at least one.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

He swaggered closer and, leaning on the counter, considered you for a moment.

You held his gaze, expecting the worst.

“Wait, I… actually forgot what I wanted to say."

You tried not to smile but were betrayed by your pursed lips.

"Gotta be honest, of all your flirting so far that has been the best one."

He gave you a half smile.

"How about you don't see it as flirting. See it as me just being extra friendly to someone extra beautiful."

You scoffed but couldn’t stop a short sort of giggle escaping your lips.

After a moment’s pause he added, now with genuine sweetness, "Go out with me. Just once. I promise it'll be fun. And really, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Where do I even start?"

"Okay. But besides that, the worst that can happen is that we realize we don't have anything in common."

You looked at him, your head slightly tilted in thought.

"Like, what are you doing tonight after work?", he suggested.

"Well, I’m meeting some friends."

"What will you be doing?”

“A museum has a science night we wanna check out.”

“Oh! Really?”, he asked excitedly, dropping his flirtatious manner completely. And sure enough this little piece of information carried you through the subject of scientific fun facts to books to hobbies and so on. The rain had lessened significantly but an hour later he was still there, sitting on a chair at the kitchen island, talking while you worked, peppering in little compliments here and there but keeping it mostly pleasantly fluffy.

When you eventually parted in front of the café, Kuroo hesitated, obviously thinking about how to say Goodbye. In the end you both settled for slightly awkward smiles and went your separate ways.

He had an extra spring in his step as he arrived at the restaurant, incredibly late but incredibly happy. His friend accepted the cake with a tipsy, somewhat off-key belt of “Happy birthday to me!” and pointed to a free seat next to Kenma.

"Someone's looking chipper.", his former setter commented and accepted a slice of birthday cake, “Why did you leave me here alone?”

“You’re hardly alone, Kenma-kun.”, the older one said vaguely, "I had to pick up the cake first. I only remembered when I was already at work."

"So… is it from that little café?"

Kuroo shrugged, but was unable to hide a grin.

His friend lifted a brow. Originally, Kuroo hadn’t meant to talk about it. About how he didn't expect you two to actually have so much in common, about how funny you were, how smart and how gorgeous you looked even after a long day at work. How you practically made him beg to get into the café at all and how easy it was to talk to you once the ice was broken. It took him a few minutes to finally stop gushing.

"Sounds like a very promising night.", Kenma said approvingly, hoping he’d finally be free of his friend’s whining about why you wouldn’t go out with him, "So you got her number, then."

Kuroo's dreamy expression fell at once. "Oh.”

The sun glistened on the streets still soaked from last night’s rain but the air smelled fresh and you hummed to yourself when you thought about the previous evening. As you unlocked the cafe’s front door you heard someone calling your name and turned around.

Your stomach dropped when you spotted Kuroo on the other side of the road, waiting to cross safely.

“Good morning.”, he said, a little out of breath but with a winning smile.

“Good morning. What brings you by so early?”

“I have a full day today so I wouldn’t be able to come by otherwise.”

You tried hard not to look too pleased.

“I was wondering, if - I mean, I forgot to - Could I have your number?”

Pretending to think about it, you opened the door.

“Do you want that on a to-go cup?”

“That would be easier to brag with.”, he said, nodding thoughtfully and stepping in behind you.

While you prepared his usual, Kuroo watched you closely and you weren’t sure if the pink in his cheeks was from his jog here or something else.

When you handed him his tea a few minutes later he stood there, looking you up and down with his cheeky grin.

You squinted in suspicion.

“You look even cuter than usual today.”

“Get out before I charge you double.”

He lifted the cup and winked. “Talk to you later.”

[littlemissaddict]

I Don't Like You - Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

This was based on a dream I had about Sam and Torrez teasing for being jealous over Bucky having a 'girlfriend' and they way of proving that I don't is a staring contest and after that I got as little carried away which you can see by the word count.

Word count: 4553 Warnings: Angst, jealousy, mentions of blood (nothing descriptive), not edited I think that's it but please let me know of anything else.

“You know I can’t make eye contact” she glares at Sam, unintentionally making eye contact with him where he sits across the table from her.

“You seem to be doing just fine now” he retorts with a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah well it’s easy to do with people I don’t like” she responds, trying not to let herself give in and laugh at his dramatics as he clutches a hand to his chest as he pitifully asks, ‘you don’t like me?’ Instead she settles on a roll of her eyes as she responds, “Not at the minute no”

“Should be easy for you then seeing as you ‘don’t like him” Torrez chimes in quoting her from just moments ago when they accused her of liking Bucky and being jealous that he has a girlfriend and their way of proving it, for her to hold eye contact with him for more than thirty seconds.

“I don’t and you two are just being childish” she huffs, knowing that there is no way she is getting out of it without doing as they ask and revealing her secret feelings for Bucky.

“We wouldn’t have to be like this if you’d just admit the crush you're harbouring on our resident super soldier” Sam pushes again.

“Resident super soldier? I thought that was Steve” she deflects, it’s a low blow to them all but she’s had enough.

“Don’t be a smart ass” Sam responds, all the light hearted foolery gone from moments before.

She sighs, giving in, “Fine let’s just get this over with” as she turns in her seat to face Bucky who has not said a word this entire time which seemed a little strange but then again it wasn’t as if said much anyway. Settling back into her seat as she still tries to feign control over the situation that has rapidly spiralled out of her control, she waits for Bucky to signal he's ready and then Sam's counting them in. 

With one final sigh she gives in and meets Bucky's eyes and as cliche as it sounds she can feel herself getting lost in the blue of them as the noise of the cafeteria seems muffled, even forgetting about Sam and Torrez watching the two of them intently. This is dangerous, she needs to pull away but then that would only confirm what they already know so she forces herself to hang in there until she's in the clear but then they breeze right through it. Neither she nor Bucky seem to hear Sam's countdown, nor when Torrez tells them they're done, it's only when Sam sticks a hand between them and interrupts their line of sight do they finally snap out of it.

She doesn't know if it's just her imagination but Bucky seems just as dazed as her as they blink the world back into focus, the noise around them resuming its original volume. “See I told you I didn't like him” she stutters out, her voice breaking as she rounds on their audience.

“No, no, nope you have just confirmed that you do if anything” Sam corrected her.

“No the bet was that I could hold eye contact if I didn't like him, I think you've had too many hits to the head and it's making you confused” she says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah but do you not feel the electricity between the two of you, I can feel it on the other side of the table” Torrez chimes in, drawing her attention from a smirking Sam, “Yeah, I uh think if I get any closer I'm literally going to get zapped” he adds with a laugh which Sam joins in on.

“You know what I don't need this” she huffs, flustered and embarrassed, avoiding looking at Bucky as she pushes her chair back and storms away from the table, ignoring the calls of her name from Sam.

In fact she avoids them for the next few days, which is a challenge since she's with them on missions but she disappears as soon as she gets the chance, not hanging around them for any longer than she has to. Until she has no choice.

“Okay intel says our target is going to be here tonight” Torrez reveals, sliding two invites across the table towards where she and Bucky stood. She didn't even need to look down at them to know it'd been some fancy party that would require them to dress the part, she'd read enough of the packet they'd been given on him to know it'd be his type of thing.

“Your job is to..”

“Let me guess we're going in undercover with some made up alias that you've managed to convince our target need to attend” she spoke, interrupting Torrez who was only trying to do his job and deliver the brief of the mission to them but the air between them was as tense now as it had been when she walked out on them last week.

“Yes and no, I'm not involved in this one” Sam reveals, his voice sounding strained as he adds, “You and Bucky are, you'll be undercover as a married couple interested in joining their enterprise”

“Married couple?” She choked out, he really had to be joking, “Surely you could have come up with something else” she added, directly her glare towards Torrez now as if she was blaming him for it.

Sam shook his head, “Our target has a certain special interest in the ladies, we need you to play into it” he explained.

“And him?” She asked, gesturing to Bucky at her side.

“He's needed because believe it or not he's more intimidating than either of us two” Sam replies motioning between himself and Torrez, “Plus he has the super soldier serum running through his veins and a metal arm, if it does go down hill you're gonna need him” he adds as if it's an afterthought but them he's sees the look on her face and knows exactly what she's going to try and argue. “He's more subtle than the wings and we can't sneak in any guns as there's a metal detector on the way in”

“Metal detector? He's got a fucking vibranium arm, how are you going to sneak that in?” She asks in disbelief and yeah she might be taking this too far but she's too far gone to even try and rein it back in.

“He's part of an experimental trial offering upgraded prosthetics to war veterans” Torrez states and finally she had no comeback as they really had thought of everything.

Her shoulders sagged, the fight went out of her as she realised that there was no way out of this, she was going to have to play nice with Bucky. “How much time do we have?” She asks.

“You'll be leaving in just under two hours” Sam confirms as he motions for Torrez to grab the bags hung on the wall opposite them, “Your outfits, you better hurry”

She stands in front of the full length mirror in the makeshift dressing room admiring the black floor length dress she'd been given. The high neckline that dropped into a deep v at the bottom of her back and the thigh high split on the right side of the dress, it had certainly been picked with care as it was sure to draw their targets attention.

And it seems Sam, Torrez and Bucky's as she met them back in the main room where Torrez had set up his surveillance equipment, ready to be their eyes and ears on the ground. Bucky moved to say something as she came to a stop in front of him, warmth flooding through her under his gaze. “Don't, let's just get this over with” she tells him, instead accepting the arm he offers her as they head out to the waiting car.

Bucky adjusts his tie as the car begins to drive, face scrunched up in discomfort as he fiddles with it. “Hey, here let me help?” She offers, sliding closer to him before he can even reply as she's seriously concerned he's going to manage to strangle himself with it from the way he's tugging on it. She reaches her hands up, sliding under the stark white collar to check the tie is not twisted before loosening the knot that rests at the base of his neck. “Better?” She asks after straightening the length of the tie and pulling her hands away from him, aware of his heavy gaze that had been on her since she slid across the leather seat to help him.

“Don't think it was wrong, just makes me feel claustrophobic wearing it” he grumbles slouching back into the seat.

“Then don't wear it” she suggests, they may be playing different parts tonight but if he can't learn to live with it then it has to go. They can't risk their target seeing through their façade just because Bucky can't cope with a tie, “dump it and undo the top few buttons, it looks hotter like that anyway” she shrugs casually as if she hadn't just hinted to Bucky that she found him hot.

He looks down at her contemplating her words and she thinks that he may just deal with it as he's dealt with worse things than a tie in his years but then his hands come up to the tie. “‘Happy wife, happy life’ that's what they say nowadays, right?” He asks as the tie falls from his neck and he focuses on undoing the top few buttons as she instructed.

“Yeah, guess so,” she replies, “doesn’t really apply to us though” she adds, feeling the need to remind him that they aren’t together so he can do what he pleases; it has nothing to do with her as long as it doesn’t compromise the mission.

They breeze through security checks, clearly having gotten Torrez’s memo about the ‘prosthetic’ and then they’re joining the party. She guides Bucky along to the bar where she flashes the server a wide smile. “I’ll have a gin and tonic and your finest whiskey please” she tells him with a wink as she hears Bucky grumble beside her.

“Do you really think now's the best time for a drink”

She smiles playfully up at him, batting her lashes as she pushes up on her toes so that she can lean into whisper into his ear. To anyone around the pair it would look like an intimate moment between lovers but really it’s just a ploy so that she can talk to him without anyone listening in, other than Sam and Torrez that is. “We need to play the part, blend in but I can get you a water if you’d prefer” she explains before pulling away, glad that he’s managed to hide his surprise at her sudden closeness.

The barman interrupts their little moment, setting the drinks down on the counter in front of them and their total. She bats her eyes yet again at Bucky who simply rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket for his wallet to pay as she reaches for her drink and takes a sip as he hands the money over. Honestly she'd feel bad having him pay if she didn't know that he'd be compensated for it once the mission was completed, besides it wasn’t her fault she had nowhere to keep any money in the dress that had been chosen for her.

“Now what?” Bucky asks and she thinks it's mainly because she took charge to begin with that he thinks she has some idea of how the night will play out.

“We wait” she states, taking another sip of her drink as she scans the room for any sign of their target yet she finds none.

Time draws on and one drink turns into another, another that she tries to nurse for as long as she can without seeming suspicious as she can't afford to lose her head. She is slightly jealous of Bucky's tolerance to alcohol but then again he does have the advantage of the super soldier serum course through his veins but she can tell he's just as on edge as she is. They've been waiting too long with no sign of the man they came here for, in fact she was just about to suggest they call it when a woman approached them.

She felt Bucky tense beside her, his automatic instincts to protect kicking in as he slid an arm around her waist which seemed to settle him for the moment. The unnamed woman addresses them, well their aliases, and informs them that she had been sent by their target and if they'd like to follow her.

Both she and Bucky felt something was off and she could only hope that Sam would be ready with back up if they needed it. Following her through the crowd towards a door at the back of the hall they were in, she led them through a maze of hallways that she struggled to keep track of until they were led into a room where stood the man they had come here for.

“Ah come in, come in” he greeted the two of them, gesturing for them to take a seat on the plush chairs in front of him. “We have lots to discuss” he beamed, nodding to the woman they still didn't know the name of as she took her exit of the room and shut the door behind her. It did nothing to ease the tension both her and Bucky felt but they were trapped with nowhere to run. “Sorry for all the secrecy tonight but as you can well imagine our work is only known to a select few so it did come as a surprise to be sought out directly” he explained turning his attention back to him.

“Yes but you were highly recommended” she spoke, hoping to clear up any suspicions he may have as she forced her body to relax into the seat.

“So you said in your enquiry” he stated as he perched on the edge of the desk in front of her with barely a glance in Buckys direction but that was to be expected. “Though I don't understand how you came to find out about our operations here” he asked, leaning forward towards her.

She repeated the name of the guy they had busted that had identified him as the head of operations and that to pull the plug on it all they would need to take him out. “We were looking to expand our opportunities and he said that you may be able to help” she answered, laying it on thick that they needed his help in hopes of appealing to his ego.

“I could but you see there is one slight problem I have, you've come to me right after his arrest, now pardon me for the accusation but as you can well understand the last thing I need is the authorities butting their nose into things” he stated, a knowing look being thrown their way. “So as a protocol I did some digging into you two only to find nothing, so now you see that was your first mistake” he smirked, pushing from the table in favour of pacing in front of them as if he hadn't just revealed that he knew that their intentions were false. “Now imagine my surprise when I found out that the former Winter Soldier and a government agent wanted to meet with me, most would have declined but not me, I have a proposal for you both” he reveals, speaking to the both of them but his eyes never leave her as he comes to a stop in front of her.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Bucky tense as he gets closer to her, ready to make a move if he even thinks about harming her but instead he reaches out a hand to cup her chin, forcing her to look at him. She rolls her eyes at how predictable his words were, “Why would we want to work for you?” She replies, her words laced with venom as she tries to pull her face from his hold.

He releases her face without complaint, “Well there’s the perks of the sale, being in charge of your own operations and,” he smirks, leaning in closer so that his mouth was by her ear, “for you sweet thing, we could work out a little something extra” he whispers before moving back to her face.

She grimaces at his words, watching as he leans into her, head angled in preparation to kiss her but she doesn’t let him get that far. She spits in his face, feeling a sense of relief as he pulls away, unable to hide his disgust as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. Though the look doesn’t last that long as his smirk returns, “Feisty, now I can see why the soldier likes you so much” he says finally turning his attention away from her and back to Bucky as if he’s just remembered he’s still in the room. When she follows his gaze, Bucky’s hands are gripping the armrest of the chair so hard that she’s surprised it’s not broken and his eyes are set hard against the man in front of them in a way she can only describe as a look to kill.

“Now of course you can say no but I’m afraid that won’t end well for either of you” he adds, almost as if it’s an afterthought as he moves away from the two of them to sit back against the desk.

Bucky speaks for the first time since they entered the room, “What makes you think it’ll end badly for us, like you said I’m the former Winter Soldier I’ve gotten out of worse than this”

The man in front of them chuckles, “Oh I’m sure you have but there’s one major difference this time you didn’t have your little girlfriend with you”

She see’s Bucky’s jaw tighten yet he doesn’t argue his words, “No but we do have back up” he counters which doesn’t even seem to phase their target.

“Oh right” he smiles, tapping his ear as he hints towards their in-ears and their contact with Sam and Torrez but now she thinks about it the two of them have been surprisingly quiet all evening. “That was your second mistake, once you entered the building they ceased to work, protocol you see” he simply shrugged.

The malfunction certainly didn’t go amiss with Sam and Torrez over in their makeshift control room, “When was the last time we heard from them?” Sam urged, one hand on the back of Torrezs' chair and the other on the table he sat at.

“Just before they entered, they must have some kind of communications blocker but we still have visual at least” he answered, bringing up on the screen the image of her and Bucky at the bar. “Doesn’t like him my ass, look at the two of them” he snickered watching her push up onto her toes to talk into Bucky’s ear, “and look at him, didn’t you say he had a girlfriend?” Torrez looks confused as he rounds on Sam.

Sam sighs, “Just a wind up to push them together but we’ve got more important things to worry about now, like whoever this is” he reminds Torrez as he points to the woman approaching the pair on screen. “Can you follow them?” Sam asks as Torrez nods, his fingers moving against the keyboard as he switches between the cameras to follow them to wherever they are being led.

He follows them through the maze of corridors, only losing sight of them when they enter the room at the end of the corridor and they can only watch helplessly when the woman leaves the room again without them. “Can you figure out where in the building they are?” Sam questions, moving around behind him.

“Why? You going in?” Torrez questions, trying to figure out how Sam could possibly sneak past the beefed up security.

“No, I’m sending in Red Wing” he replies, already having Red Wing ready and waiting for instructions. With no more questions to ask Torrez gets to work finding their location in the building within minutes and sending it to Sam.

It takes longer than Sam would like for Red Wing to find the window into the room where he can see her and Bucky seated in front of their target who has his back to the window, thankfully. It also seems that she and Bucky miss his presence as well which works out better for him by giving him the element of surprise but more importantly he can hear what's being said in the room.

“Now if you’ve made your decision because I have a party to get too”

Sam sees him move his hand to press a button, to what he assumes is connected to his goons to let them know to come in, not that Sam was willing to take that chance. Without a second thought he engaged Red Wings targeting system so as to lessen the chance of hitting the other two in the room.

At the first sound of the shattering Bucky was quick off the chair and pulling her into him so he could use his body to shield her from any stray bullets as neither of them knew what was happening, let alone that it was Sam coming to save them. The sound of the bullets drew in the guards who came running straight into the bullets and ending up as the same fate of their master. Once the bullets stopped and there were no more guards appearing did Bucky finally peek out to see none other than Red Wing hovering by the window. Moments later the sound of the fire alarm going off drew the both of them to their senses, “We have to get out of here” she urges, tugging on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky follows without complaint, taking her hand and taking off through the door and through the hallways that he’d memorised on the way here knowing that they would probably have to make a quick getaway and they couldn’t afford to get lost in the maze.

“Wait Bucky, need to get these heels off” she panted next to him, running was not her favourite thing but running in stilettos was definitely at the top of the list of least favourite things to do.

“No time” he stated, reaching for her and hoisting her up over his shoulder as she shrieked in surprise as he took off running again.

When they made it back to the main hall where guests were still evacuating, he placed her back onto her feet and led her into the crowd of people as they tried to blend in to make their way outside. Thankfully Sam had their driver waiting for them and only once they were in the safety of the car away from the chaos did they finally breathe a sigh of release.

Bucky turned to her, eyes skimming over her body, “Are you okay? No cuts, no blood?” he questioned as she looked down at her body.

“I think I’m good,” she confirmed, “you?” She added turning her attention back to him and noticing the tears in his jacket, probably from where he pulled them both to the floor covered in the broken glass but otherwise he looked unharmed.

“Don’t need to worry about me doll, I’ve been through worse” he chuckles and she doesn’t appreciate that he doesn’t seem to care for his own well being after that but that was something to discuss another time.

“Hey, thank you for protecting me back there” she says, softly leaning against his side instead of looking at him because she didn’t think she’d be able to hide her feelings from him.

Bucky wraps an arm around her, holding her close, “No need to thank me, that’s what I was there for, remember” he smiles down at her.

“I’m serious Buck, I’ve been awful to you for the past week and you haven’t done anything wrong, I’m sorry” she pouts pulling away from him so that he can see that she really does mean it, she’s just too scared to admit that she likes him.

Bucky’s face softens, “I get it, really and I don’t blame you, the others pushed you to do something you were uncomfortable with just to prove a point that didn’t need proving,” he speaks with a sad smile on his face, “I’m sorry I didn’t stop them” he adds, reaching over to cup her cheek but it all feels oddly intimate for someone who supposedly already has a girlfriend, but she blocks it out as she automatically leans into his touch.

“You don’t, not really, I don’t dislike you quite the opposite but it doesn’t really matter because you’re already taken” she sighs, finally coming to her senses and pulling away from his touch. Bucky doesn’t respond as she pulls away, her head leaning back against the headrest as she closes her eyes to block it all out. She knows it’s because she’s messed up by confessing to him and that it’s only going to make their team even more awkward than she’s already made for the past week. In fact she’s so lost in her own thoughts about maybe asking to transfer teams that she misses Bucky shifting beside her until she feels his breath against her face.

Opening her eyes she fights the urge to scream in surprise as she hadn’t expected him to be so close but she recovers just as quick, knowing that it’s Bucky, “You know I don’t actually have a girlfriend, right?” He questions, seriousness written all over his face that she believes him, “I’ve not even been looking because I’d already found her but I didn’t know she felt the same until now” he smiles as she stutters in surprise at his confession. Stutters that are silenced by the soft press of his lips against hers as he gives her the space to pull away if she wants but she doesn’t, instead she winds her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer as she presses harder against him, savouring the feeling of his lips and the knowledge that he feels the same.

They’re so lost in each other that they don’t even realise the car has stopped moving, they only realise when the car door opens and Sam’s voice sounds out of nowhere. “You don’t like him, huh?” he teases, thankful that his friends are back in one piece. 

She groans as they pull away from each other and Bucky, already having had enough of Sam, pushes his flesh hand into Sam’s face and uses that to push him away from the door so they can get out. Sam’s laughing as they get out of the car and despite his teasing, he’s happy that the two of them finally got together, even if it meant he’d have to probably break up multiple make out sessions while they’re on future missions.

[oreolemur]

Streamer's Worst Nightmare

Working as a streamer, you never showed your face. It was easy to make money having a cute virtual character impersonate you, but after losing a couple of fans, money became tight. “Guess what guys?”, you asked your audience through the stream. “I’m starting an Onlyfans!”. In the chat section you had a mixture of comments complimenting and some shaming you. “I know this may be a bad idea…but at least I’ll let you guys see my face”. Looking at the chat you began to get more supportive replies. “It’ll only be for a short time until I work something out for extra cash. I hope you all subscribe and see more of my personal interests”. Waving goodbye to your fans, you immediately shut off your webcam. “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, you sighed. 

Meanwhile, there was one fan of yours who wasn’t too happy about your decision. “An Onlyfans, huh?”, the man titled his head. “I’m not too happy to hear about that y/n”. He sat in front of his computer, lurking through your socials as he scarfed down a bunch of sweets. “I should pay a visit to her soon”. Crouching at his desk, L took drastic measures to find your location. “I will have you sooner or later, my sweet doll”.

Over the next few days, you began to feel more and more comfortable with your new line of work. “I’m making more than what I do streaming”, you beamed, staring at your financial statistics. “Maybe I should keep this up. Just for a little”. Posting pic after pic and video after video, you decided to open up your messages to give your subscribers a paid one on one chat with you. “Cum to my dm’s and have a little fun with me in private, my loves”, you say, making a vid of yourself in a pink robe. “I’ll be waiting”. 

After making your final post for the day, you spent the entire night trying to reply back to the hundreds of customers who hit your dm’s. “I didn’t know I’d get this much”. Without opening the last few that came in, you got bored. “Nothing new?”, you scoffed. “It’s all the same suggestions”. Before closing your laptop, you received another message. “This one better be good”. Opening it, your eyes widened. “Hello”, it read. “At least this one has a normal greeting”, you smiled.

Messaging the person back, you enjoyed talking to them. “Wow, it’s been 30 minutes and they haven’t asked for anything special yet”. Texting them back, you asked them this. “Are you not interested in seeing anything special tonight?”. Waiting for their reply, you suddenly hear a noise in your living room. “That must be the cat again”, you sighed. Getting up from your bed, you headed that way. “Come here baby”, you signaled your pet. Picking up the furry animal, you walked back towards your room. Seeing the notification come through, you gently put down your cat. As you read the reply, your heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”. Reading the message again, you wanted to make sure that your eyes were working correctly. “Something special? Like your cute fuzzy slippers in the front doorway”, the message read. “This can’t be happening”, you begin to panic. Texting the person back, “What fuzzy slippers? I don’t have any”.  Biting his nails, L stood in front of your bedroom door, “These ones”, he said. 

Feeling a chill go down your spine, your heart beats fast as you froze. “You do have quite an interesting taste in style, doll”. Seeing the man from the corner of your eye, you turned around slowly. “H-How did you get in?”, you asked. He approached you slowly, bending down to your level as you sat on the bed. “Don’t worry about that”, he said. L’s big eyes stared at you, taking note of all of your beautiful facial features. “You know…”, he paused. “You’re more pretty in person…and short too”. He then tried to reach for your face, but you smacked his hand away. “D-don’t touch me”, you said, scooting back. L grabbed your leg, pulling you back towards him. “I’m stronger than I look. I would hate it if you made me get physical with you, my love”, he said. 

“What do you want?”, you asked. “You”, L replied. "M-me? Why me?", you questioned. "If you're some creepy fan that has a crush on me...I won't date you". L tilts his head. "Why you? You're interesting. You interest me in ways no other human has. I want to peel you open. Analyze every inch of your brain until I know everything about you”, he chuckles. Hearing him say that creeped you out even more. L leans forward with each word. As he does so, his long black hair falls around his face, shrouding his eyes from view. "I want to get inside you”. L leans forward even more, until his face is mere inches from yours. His hair, now a tangled mess, conceals his face, but you can see the glint of curiosity and hunger in his eyes. "I want... to devour you." L whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

He tried to grab you, but you dodged it. You fell on the floor, getting up quickly to run away. The man smirked. He liked to watch people try and escape him. He always caught his prey in the end. L follows you, moving surprisingly quickly for somebody as lanky as him. "Where are you going, dear? The game was just getting interesting”. You ran into the living room, tripping over your cat's litter box. "Shit!", you yelled. You got up, heading towards the front door. L chuckled again. He really liked how you were trying to escape. It was so amusing and cute to watch you try and get away from him. L continued his pursuit, closing the ever-shrinking distance between you. "Don't you know that running away only makes me want you more, my dear? The more you resist, the more I crave to devour you”. 

You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. L was suddenly directly behind you, his lips next to your ear. "It doesn't matter. There is no escaping me at this point, darling. I'm faster. I'm stronger. I'm smarter. You will be mine." L's words send shivers down your spine. He wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling towards you to the bedroom. "Let me go!", you shouted. "Oh, you are so adorable. Trying to act so tough even though you're shaking like a leaf in my grasp. I can feel how tense you are. You know you can't get away from me, but still, you persist. It's so cute!" L continues to drag you to the bedroom, a smug smirk on his face. 

Once inside, he throws you onto the bed as he proceeds to take off his shirt. L tosses his shirt to the side, revealing his pale, lean chest. His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you. "Are you feeling vulnerable, my dear?”. You begin to cry, seeing him get closer and closer to you. "Please go away!", you begged. "Oh, but my darling, we're just getting started." L climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. As he does so, his long black hair falls forward, framing his face again. "You can't run from me. You can't hide from me. I will always find you." He leans down and whispers in your ear. "You're my obsession now”. He rubbed his hands through your hair, pulling on it as he brought your face close to his.  "Shhh... let me hear those pretty cries," L says, placing his finger on your lips. "I want to savor every sound that comes out of you. You're so enticing when you're scared. It's like I'm feasting on a delicious meal”.

He kissed your lips passionately, pushing his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He explored the inside of your mouth, slightly moaning. A trail of spit connected both of your lips and he pulled away. “Now…”, he said. “I want to see more of you”. His hand opened the slit of your robe, exposing your breasts. “Perfect”, L said. He pinned your arms above your head as he moved his way down to your tits. He stuck out his tongue, licking your sensitive nipples. “S-stop”, you said, letting out a small whimper. His hand traveled down to your waist, rubbing your bare cunt. “You have such soft skin”, he said, making a pop suction noise as his mouth latched on and off your tit. Your legs shook, feeling him massage your clit. “No”, you said, closing them, trapping his hand in between your thighs. “I don’t like uncooperative people, my dear”, he said, forcing your legs open.

L’s cock hardened inside his pants, making him blush. “My god”, he said, moving his hand away from your pussy, he had your arms pinned with one hand as the other moved to unbutton his pants. “I didn’t think I would get this excited”, he said. You laid there crying, wishing this situation was over with. You saw his dick poke out of his boxers. “Stay still”, he said, unpinning you. He pulled them down just enough so he can fuck you. With your legs still spread, L positioned himself comfortably between them. He placed his cock on your cunt, spitting on it. He rubbed himself on you, attempting to lube your dry pussy. “If you scream I will hurt you”, he said, shoving cock inside you. The size caught you off guard, making you cry even louder. “Take it out!”, you yelled. He covered your mouth, leaning into your ear. “I can tell it’s your first time, my love”, he slightly smirked. “I felt your hymen break”. His thrusts were slow as he placed kisses onto your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, leaving bruises. 

Your body started to like his touch as your cunt became used to his cock. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like it, but you liked how fucked up the situation was. “Your body is starting to relax. You don’t feel tense anymore”, L grunted. He let go of your mouth, kissing your soft lips. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. “If you keep up this good behavior…I might just let you go”. His thrusts quickened as he felt your walls tighten around him. You moaned as his pace went faster, feeling your orgasm arriving. L rested his head beside yours, moaning into your ear. “After I’m done, I’ll make sure no one else sees your body but me”.

[nobodyfamousposts]

The Hero of Paris

...so when Gabriel was in the bathroom on that train when he transformed and tried to akumatize someone...

...you think anyone could have just...I dunno, recorded it?

__________________________

Michael Donahue was the hero of Paris.

In truth, he was an American tourist. And about as American as one could get.

And AS a young American in a foreign country, he did what most Americans do: abuse his phone's camera function for anything and everything he thought was interesting and likely to get him likes on social media.

He recorded a man feeding pigeons before being run off by a police officer.

He recorded some curator at a museum telling a wild fanfic idea at the Louvre.

He recorded a bunch of people chasing after a blond haired kid and screaming at the sight of him. Which...okay, weird?

Well, he'd known Paris would be weird. But he didn't think it'd be THIS weird.

But then THAT day happened. And what he thought was perhaps the silliest…even the downright dumbest thing ended up being what made him go viral in the last way he ever expected.

Some would consider it uncouth. Most would have just politely ignored it.

But Micheal was a young American with a need to record everything.

And he was already in his seat in a train waiting for it to depart for his next travel destination...only to be delayed due to some reason that he, not being French-speaking, didn't understand.

Ultimately, that made this the perfect combination of bored and impulsive in JUST the right way to achieve a miracle.

So when he heard what sounded like shouting and insane laughter coming from the bathroom on the train, Michael—in true American fashion, decided to record it.

"Dude, some guy has taken over one of the restrooms and is yelling like crazy!"

…and for the sheer hell of it, he started livestreaming.

And his chat started to come alive.

What's going on?

"The train's held up. My French isn't that good. An 'akuma' or something?"

What's an akuma?

He looked over his shoulder.

"I dunno. But that guy in the restroom has been shouting about it a lot."

On the other side of the door, the faint sound of yelling could be heard. Most of it garbled that Michael couldn't quite make out except for a few words.

"—akuma—"

"—Ladeebuug!"

What's he shouting?

"Something about Ladybugs and noir? Is he shooting a movie or complaining of a lack of pest control? Lol."

Out of all his vids and livestreams, he hadn't expected the one about some random making a scene in a bathroom to be the one that got attention, but more people were joining the chat and he saw his numbers rise more than they ever had.

"Wow. Okay. Didn't expect to get this level of response."

He made sure to keep the camera on the bathroom door the noises were coming from rather than himself. It was what the people wanted to see apparently and it allowed better audio quality.

What was perhaps the most interesting was that he started getting comments in French.

In all caps.

With many exclamation points.

Is this real!?

HAWK MOTH!

IT'S HAWK MOTH!

WHERE IS HE?!

"Hawk Moth? What?"

Then a particularly insistent commenter named LadyWifi joined and started to spam the chat.

Où est-ce?

Où est-ce?!!

OÙ EST-CE!!!

"Wait hold on. What?"

Où

où!

WHERE?!

WHERE IS IT

OÙ

wherewherewerewhere?!!!!!!!!11!!1

He balked at the repeated demands. Given the chat seemed to be repeatedly questioning where in English, he could only presume that's what they were asking in French, too. But he had no idea why and no explanation was forthcoming! Any attempts anyone made to tell him what was going on quickly got lost in the flood of comments demanding a location.

Before he could comment further though, his thoughts were interrupted by a cry of outrage from the restroom, loud enough to ring his ears.

Silence.

Then…

"Nooroo, detransform moi."

There was a strange sound from inside. Muffled, but distinct enough. Like how sparkles should sound? Something from one of those magical girl shows his little sister watches.

A click signaled the door unlocking.

"I think he's about to come out!"

The chat was going wild. Everyone commenting. Making random names? Maybe trying to guess who the person on the other side of the door was?

Then some blond guy in glasses and a really unfashionable suit came out of the restroom.

…and his livestream promptly exploded.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 23

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can barely eat. You’re strung up in shock and shame, your stomach mulching as your nerves curdle. You only really have the toast, unable to stomach the omelet or hash that came with it. No one else seems discouraged by the day’s events.

As you wait for the cue to leave, Bucky signals to the server; a different one than before. They return with a container that Bucky offers to you. You take it, at first confused, then scrape your leftovers into it. You thank him as you close up the lid and rest it in your lap.

Finally, Steve pays the bill and you’re free to stand up. The jacket hangs heavily from your shoulders as you follow behind them through the restaurant. You watch your feet, too afraid to face the other diners. Are they judging you? Was it one of them who said something to the server?

You emerge into the sunlight and Steve’s voice buzzes in your ears. Most of the conversation at the table was nothing more than garbling to you. You just can’t make sense of any of this. You don’t know how but you know everything is going to change and that’s scary. You’ve only ever been with your mom. Now, he’s attached to her. Maybe, it means you’ll have to go.

“Over there...” Steve points, “nice spot.”

You follow the length of his arm to the little patch of grass on the other side of the lot. There’s a tree and a large stone surrounded by colourful petals. It’s a cute little space with a picnic table on the green blades.

“Just a few pictures,” Steve takes out his phone and hands it to Bucky, “this is a day we don’t wanna forget, huh, honey?”

Your mom grabs onto Steve’s hand and he almost winces. He squeezes and brings her with him across the lined tarmac. You shuffle behind them as Bucky holds the phone awkwardly. You cross the expanse of the lot and Steve brings your mother beside him to pose for a picture. You suppose they would need wedding photos even if it’s all a bit odd.

Bucky aims the lens and you hear the shuttering noise of the frames. Your mom is smiling again. It’s such a strange sight. You hug your leftovers and watch silently.

“How about we get both my girls in here?” Steve beckons to you, “a family picture.”

You blanch and furrow your brow. You look one way then the other and shrug. Bucky offers to take the leftovers, balancing it in one hand as he keeps the phone in his other. You reluctantly trod across the grass.

As you near, another waft of Steve’s cologne tickles your nose. You look down and slowly slip off his jacket and offer it up. He takes it and swiftly pulls it back on.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says and pulls you against his side, your mother against his other, his arms spread wide around you both. “Say cheese.”

You face the camera and you know the first picture is bad. You must look startled. Your vision comes into focus and you see Bucky and the phone. You make yourself smile as Steve’s hand slides down your arm and instead grips your side, just where it’s smallest.

You stand for a few more as his fingertips curl into your flesh. Finally, he’s happy with it and Bucky drops his arm. Steve drags his hand away, brushing over your skirt in a way that makes you quiver. His touch leaves a hot tingling along your side.

You take your food back from Bucky and he hands the phone to Steve. He gives you a long look after.

“You wanna ride back with me?” He asks.

You nod. You just want to go home.

“Stevie,” your mom’s hand shakes as she latches onto Steve’s arm, “how about we... drive around for a while?”

“Uh, sure,” he answers, “sounds good. You okay with getting her home?”

“Yep,” Bucky frowns, as if annoyed at the redundant question. “I think I can handle it.”

“Don’t give him a hard time,” your mom snips at you. “Just go home.”

“Come on,” Bucky’s already turning away, “let the newlyweds enjoy their marital bliss.”

You nod and quickly spin to follow him. You almost admire his indifference to it all. The way he dismisses them both. It does make you wonder though, if he’s friends with Steve, why does he seem so agitated? Maybe he’s just as confused as you.

You go to his car and he opens the door for you. You thank him as you get in. It’s a nice gesture.

You stare through the windshield as he gets in. He’s quiet as the music comes back on. He leaves it and backs out of the spot. He drives by your mom and her husband. Your parents? Your eyes meet Steve’s as he stares, his hand running down his lapel. He doesn’t look as happy any more.

You shrink back into the seat, keeping the container just off your bare legs. When you get home, you’re throwing this dress out. You doubt you’ll ever have a reason to wear it again.

🏠

Bucky drops you off at the house. Walking up, knowing it's empty, you feel eerie. Everything is out of sorts. The world has tilted on its axis overnight.

You put your leftovers in the fridge and change, stuffing the dress into the bottom of the bin. You wander through the small house. You don't know what to do with yourself. Without your mom to tell you what to do, or what you're doing wrong, you're listless.

Finally, you sit down with your table and notebook, trying to center your energy on a page. As you touch the pencil to the paper, the tip snaps. You sigh and place the pencil down in the middle crease. You stretch your fingers and close them.

You just can't be still. You sharpen the pencil and tuck it into the book, hugging it under your arm. You put your shoes in and head off without destination. You just can't be in that house alone. Not right now.

You're uneasy at first as you stroll through the streets. You watch over your shoulder for the HOA as you go around corners. You come to the little bridge behind the house with the archway wrapped in ivy.

You stop at the peak of the bridge and bend back the cover of your sketchbook. You take the pencil and eye the small pond beneath. You mimic the ripples in graphite, etching on the moss and the leaves floating, and a few tadpoles beneath the surface. You don't often do still lifes, you never much leave your room, but it's calming to be out in the world and have a focal point.

A pebble drops into the water with a plop, sending an echo of circles through it. You step back, barely saving your book from slipping over the edge. You turn to face the figure at the end of the bridge. It's a boy. Well, he's probably your age so... a man?

He's strangely familiar. Reddish brown hair, warm dark eyes, and a crooked grin. You nearly gasp as he says your name like a question.

"How..." you close up your book and back up.

"Hey, I didn't know you were still around."

"Who?"

"Peter," he smiles, "how's your grandma?"

"My..." you shake your head. "She's dead."

"I mowed her lawn?" He offers as your confusion remains sewn into your forehead.

"Oh."

"You always had your colouring books."

"Yeah," you sniff. "Am I in your way?" You flatten yourself against the railing.

"Nope," he comes up the bridge, "so... you draw?"

"Uh, yeah," you glance towards the water.

"Nice, I'm more into photography," he raises hisbhand and shows a camera in his hand, "was coming to try to catch the frog that hangs out. You seen him?"

"Mm, no," you murmur, "I should go."

"I don't mind," he says, "if you stick around."

You hesitate, the bridge creaking under your feet. You think of the empty house, of the morning wedding and the restaurant. You're in no hurry to go back to any of it. You nod and turn around, "okay." You ppen your sketch book as he comes up beside you, a foot away as he fiddles with his camera.

"Living with my Aunt May now so... maybe we'll see each other around," he says as he switches the lens, "it won't feel so lonely around here.”

[the-universal-sun]

Little Stan being scared of a thunderstorm with Ford and Fidds comforting him?

I’m going to make this based in the 80s where Fidds and Stan got Ford back after a few years. I just couldn’t think of how to involve Old Man McGucket in this. But one day I will!

BAM-CRACKLE

Came the loud noise from outside, the power in the shack going out briefly before the back up generator kicks in. Stanford hears a terrified yelp come from the living room and rushes, as calmly as he can, to the next room to check on his brother and Fiddleford. Loud noises have a tendency to scare Stan, and while Stanford trusts Fiddleford to look after him, he’s been doing so for a couple of years without him, he still needs to see that his little brother is okay when he’s like this.

The scene he came to was one of Fiddleford frantically waving around a large lump in Stan’s Teddy Bear blanket, trying to coax the lump out. Stan must’ve hid under his blanket when he heard the thunder. All in all, this was a tamer reaction than other times, he can’t hear any crying or wailing, yet.

“It’s okay, Jitter Bug, it’s just some thunder! I know it’s loud n’ all, but it can’t hurt ya! I’m here, I’ve got ya’, Stanley!” Fiddleford flutters around frantically, trying to coax Stanley from his blanket cocoon, which shivers occasionally, but otherwise makes no sound or movement. Stanford walks closer and leans down and places a hand on what he presumes is Stan’s back, rubbing it in circles softly, speaking lowly as to not frighten his brother further.

“Lee? Stanley? It’s alright. It’s just like Fidds said, we’ll protect you from the thunder, so there’s no need to be afraid,” the lump under the blanket shivers some more, but leans towards them. “Can you come out, please? We’d love to see you, I know I’m missing my Lee’s face. Hmmm?” He sees Fiddleford slowly grab the edge of the blanket and pull it up, revealing Stan to the living room. And it’s a pitiful sight indeed.

Stan is hunched over on his knees, cuddling his teddy bear and covering his ears, his eyes tightly clenched shut. He’s shaking a little, and it just brings an ache in Stanford’s heart. He knows Fiddleford feels the same by the small sad-sounding whimper he hears be released from his throat. Stan cries and lunges for Stanford when another loud clap of thunder sounds out. Ford, of course, catches his brother, holding him close and shushing his sobs, Fiddleford rubbing his back and whispering assurances in his ears.

“There, its’s okay, Lee. Your Fidds and I are here, we’ll protect you from the thunder.” Stanford kisses the crown of Stan’s head, softly shushing him.

“Ford’s right, Pumpkin Pie, ain’t gonna let anything hurt ya’, we’ll keep you safe.” Fiddleford tickles Stan’s ear with his nose, earning a wispy giggle before a quieter clap of thunder sounds.

Stan whimpers, burying his head in Ford’s shirt, nibbling on it before he catches himself. Squeezing Poindexter tighter between him and Stanford, and Ford mimics the right squeezes on his brother, keeping up a comforting pressure around him, hoping to stop any potential sobs that may crawl their way out of his brothers throat.

“How about Fidds gets my special headphones from the basement for you, and we can build a Fort in the living room. One just for the three of us.” His headphones were used to listen to radar signals coming from outer space. They may be used to listen for sounds, but when disconnected they’re adequate at muffling the sound around the wearer. Stanford gently pulled Poindexter away from Stan’s chewing mouth.

“Yeah, n’ I’ll be back in a jiffy, too,” Stanford mouths ‘Bring a Pacifier’ to Fiddleford “and we’ll make the best Fort ever, ‘kay, hun?” Stan sniffles and nods, turning his pout toward Fiddleford, one handedly attempting to sign ‘safe’. ASL was still a work in progress.

“Fiddleford will be safe, Lee. He’ll be gone for only ten minutes at the most. Now,” Stanford sits up, bringing Stan up with him, “let’s get started on our Fort. I’ll gather the pillows and blankets, can you write down a name for it? I trust that you’ll pick the best one.”

Stan, with a small smile, gathers his scattered papers and crayons, settling down facing the doorway so he can watch for Fiddleford. Stanford smiles, ruffling his brother’s hair and earning a giggle. Moses, he loves his brother. He loves how much happier Stan’s looked since he’s started regressing without shame, how light he looks. He loves how Fiddleford loves Stan, loves to care for him. Stanford loves to care for his brother, being the protector for once.

With these two and his research, Stanford’s life feels absolutely perfect.

[ghostf1ux]

5 Times Jason Saved his the Flock and 1 Time they Saved Him: Deja Vu

Day 7: Kidnapped

Words: 2.9k

TW/CWs: Not too graphic descriptions of injury

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (here) | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

-------------------------------------------------------

It was a quiet night in Gotham.

Too quiet.

Part of this was due to how cold it was, making it unlikely that many criminals were out doing criminal things, like crime.

But the other reason is that Jason is alone. Dick is off planet, Babs is somewhere in Europe for a Birds of Prey thing, Bruce is on a business trip… somewhere. Tim is off doing things with Young Justice, Damian is visiting Metropolis to have the weekend with Talia, Cass is in China, Steph is too injured to be out of bed right now, and Duke is asleep, because he's the only one in this family with a sleep schedule.

So that just leaves him (with the quiet company of Alfred in his ear should anything go wrong) to patrol the streets of his territory. That being Crime Alley, the Bowery, and the Narrows. He's well known enough that people wave at him when they see him, or occasionally strike up a conversation if he's escorting them somewhere safer.

In fact, that's what he had just finished doing when he saw the bat signal shining up into the clouds above Gotham.

He groans audibly, changing his swing trajectory to head back towards where he had parked his bike earlier that night.

“Please, please don't be an Arkham breakout,” Jason pleads under his breath, intending for the words to be only for himself.

“There are no reports of a disturbance at the Asylum,” Alfred responds calmly, the sound of quiet typing in the background a white noise in Jason’s ear. He hums in acknowledgement, turning his full attention to the road. He’d rather not wipe out going at least 70 miles per hour.

Before long, he’s pulled up to an alley near the police station and is grappling over to its rooftop. He lands soundlessly in the shadows of the doorway into the station, clearing his throat after a few moments.

“What’s the situation, Commish?” Jason asks, arms folded over his chest. The voice modulator on his half mask makes his words come out more serious than he was intending, but he’s sure his generally lax demeanor makes up for that. 

“Hood? Where’s the Bat?” Commissioner Gordon asks genuinely, only a small hint of his dislike for the crime-lord-turned-vigilante evident in his tone. Jason shrugs, straightening up.

“He’s not in town right now. Can I take a message?” He grins under his mask, tilting his head for dramatic effect. Gordon just sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“What about the other birds?” Jason raises an eyebrow at that, which he’s sure is conveyed despite the way his face is mostly obscured by both his mask and the shadow from his hood because he immediately continues with; “It’s not because I don’t trust you, I know you guys worked your shit out and you’ve stopped killing. This is just a… delicate situation.”

Jason hums. “I can be delicate when I want to.”

The commissioner lets out a tired sigh. “I’m sure you can. Just… follow me.”

With that he moves past Jason and into the building, the red-hooded vigilante following close behind with his hands shoved in his vest pockets. He unclips the hood of the cropped vest he wears off his mask and lets it rest on his back. He’s confident no one is going to take a shot at him in the middle of the police station, especially with the commissioner right next to him. Speaking of…

“Excuse me, you’re going to have to leave your weapons here.” A police officer, or rather, detective, steps bravely up to Jason, gesturing to the table they have set next to the doorway to the bullpen. Jason looks him up and down, pausing on the expression on his face. It’s somewhere just on the edge of anger and a personal vendetta.

“Do I know you?” Jason asks innocently. He knows exactly who this guy is, of course, he’s had a bone to pick with him since the whole duffel bag incident, but Jason’s never had the pleasure of being this up close and personal outside the field.

“We don’t have time for this,” Gordon cuts the detective off before he can make the situation worse.

“Yes, detective, we don’t have time for this,” Jason echoes snidely. The detective’s fists clench, but he steps aside and lets Jason through. He very graciously doesn’t shoulder check the detective on his way past. He’s been working on his people skills. He likes to think he’s improving.

“Before lighting the signal, our systems were hacked and were forced to play a livestream. We haven’t been able to triangulate its origin, but it’s been running for about fifteen minutes now. It’s…” Gordon trails off, pausing in front of the first computer he comes across, before continuing towards his office for a bit more privacy. The other officers in the room aren’t crowding, per se, but they’re definitely too close for comfort, in Jason’s opinion. Especially since he can feel their wary glances at the plentiful weapons strapped to his body.

“What do they want?” Jason’s gaze flicks around, noting the people who seem to be the most wary of his presence, the ones most likely to try some shit while his back is turned, and where all his exit points are. He already has the place memorized, has for years, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be cautious.

“They want the Mayor to resign and for police presence to stay out of middle Gotham,” Gordon answers easily. “But that’s not really the issue. It’s their leverage.”

He gestures to his own computer in his office as Jason kicks the door closed behind them. He picks up a random pen to twirl in his fingers as he walks around to the other side of the desk–

The pen snaps.

Jason freezes, staring at the screen in front of him. Laying there, curled in a bloody ball on a dirty warehouse floor, was none other than Bruce Wayne.

His father, surrounded by three shittily masked goons, one of them holding a crowbar. A bloody crowbar.

Jason flinches when the crowbar slams down on Bruce’s shoulder. The sound on the livestream is off, but he can tell by the way he jolts his arm probably just broke and he wasn’t able to hold onto the sound of pain that came with it. Jason doubts it was a scream. He’s never heard Bruce scream, definitely not in pain. Bruce doesn’t scream.

Jason remembers screaming. Not when his arm broke. But probably once his fourth rib broke, or maybe it was his femur?

But the goons, they aren’t laughing.

Not like he was.

Not like the Joker was.

Which means this isn’t the Joker, right?

He raises a hand to his communicator as he watches the stream.

“Agent A–” His voice cracks, he clears it to put on a more put-together voice. He hopes it’s convincing. He doubts it. “Get Oracle on the line.”

“She is running a Birds of Prey mission currently,” Alfred responds evenly, with barely a beat of hesitation.

“I don’t care. Get her on here.”

“Of course.”

Jason is sure he’ll feel guilty about speaking to Alfred like that later, but he gets the sense the butler has noticed something is very wrong and is willing to let it slide.

“Gordon, keep this stream up. Oracle is going to track it from your system.” He finally manages to tear his eyes away from the screen. “I’m going to Crime Alley. Don’t send anyone, I’ll handle this. You’ll get a call when it’s done.”

Unless he’s too late.

“Wait, why are you–?”

“I know what my territory’s warehouses look like,” is all Jason manages to answer with before he’s vaulting out the window and swinging back over to his bike at a speed he hasn’t needed to go in a long time. “Agent A, I need you to keep me updated on the stream.”

There’s quiet on the other end of the line, before a short gasp comes through, just barely.

“...Of course, Master Jason,” Alfred’s voice finally comes through. Quiet, tentative, but painfully level in the way that betrays his ability to hold back his emotions to a terrifying degree. “Oracle has not deigned to answer.”

“Call her again, then,” Jason nearly growls. He’s on his bike within moments and racing down the street, threading between cars at a frankly terrifying speed to every civilian on the road, and probably any member of the flock if they could see him, too. “Keep calling her until she fucking picks up.”

There’s no response beyond a hum of acknowledgement. Jason pushes his bike to go faster. Snow practically slices into the small amount of skin he has showing on his forehead and neck. It’s a decently windy night, and it started snowing sometime while he was in the station.

Fuck, he needs to go faster.

“What?!” Oracle’s voice snaps out of nowhere. The roar of his motorcycle had drowned out the click of her joining comms.

“I need you to track a stream,” Jason replies tersely.

“I’m in the middle of something, Hood. It can wait.”

“It’s Dad, Oracle!” Jason shouts. It’s not like anyone or anything but the comm in his ear can hear what he’s saying. “He’s somewhere in Gotham and I don’t know where. He’s being used as leverage for political shit and they’re–”

His voice cracks again. Phantom laughter echoes in his ear, cackling at his helplessness. His ribs, his legs, his everything aches with phantom pain from that fucking crowbar.

Backhand definitely hurt more.

“Where is everyone else?” Gordon asks after a moment of hesitation, much more worry in her voice now than there was before. Jason chokes out a laugh.

“Not in Gotham, or injured, or just not close enough to make a difference,” Jason answers. He swears under his breath when he sees a traffic jam too dense for him to weave through and takes a sharp curve into an alleyway nearby.

“This is–” Babs cuts herself off, probably having finally pulled up the stream. “This is bad.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Jason shoots back dryly. Oracle scoffs, but it’s more strained than her normal amusement at his antics. They fall into stressed, uncomfortable silence for minutes before anyone speaks again.

“They have the signal bouncing between too many towers to narrow this down quickly,” Oracle mutters under her breath.

“I know it’s somewhere near Crime Alley,” Jason offers. “But he doesn’t have time for me to search them all.”

“No, he doesn’t…” Alfred murmurs, and Jason stiffens. It was probably supposed to be just for himself, but the mic picked it up. He hesitates to ask the question that’s been burning in the back of his throat for the last… nearly ten minutes. Feels like it’s been hours.

“...How is he doing?”

There’s a heavy silence after Jason’s question. His white-knuckled grip on the handlebars tightens. He pushes the throttle to its max, uncaring of the possible consequences. Everything around him is a smeared blur of movement. He knows he should slow down. If he makes the slightest mistake, he crashes. If he crashes, there’s no one to help Bruce. Making a mistake is almost unlikely, with his track record, but he’s not infallible. It’s winter. There’s snow and ice on the road.

He pushes on anyway.

He’s not going to be too late.

He’s not going to make the same mistake Bruce did all those years ago.

His question goes unanswered for too long.

“The stream is originating from the south east side of Crime Alley, in a small warehouse tucked between a bigger one and an abandoned office building.”

Jason lets out an exhale of relief, but doesn’t dare tear his eyes from the road.

“I know where that is. Thank you, Barbie. A, call an ambulance there. Probably multiple. I’m five minutes out, max.”

“I’ll call for everyone’s immediate relocation back to Gotham,” Babs promises.

“Don’t. He’ll be fine.”

He has to be goes unsaid. I need him to be stays in a faraway, locked off part of Jason’s mind.

“Regardless, they’ll want to be there, whatever the outcome is.”

Jason doesn’t argue with her.

As he turns into the Bowery, he slows down. He's still going upwards of 100 miles per hour, but these streets are much less put together than the ones across the rest of Gotham. His saving grace is that there's one street that cuts through both the Bowery and Crime Alley, and though it's the main street, on a night like this practically no one is actually driving around. Everyone is either inside or huddled for warmth in the shadowed crevices, trying to avoid detection.

Jason is happy to know how many fewer people are out here, thanks to his efforts to clean the place up.

“Wait, something's wrong,” Oracle warns. “One of the kidnappers is on the phone. They're leaving.”

Jason growls under his breath. “Assholes won't even stick around for the beat down?”

“One of them is only partially off camera messing with something. I can't tell what they're saying.”

Damn it. 

“ETA one minute,” he snarls all but animalistically. He swings around a corner into a dim, snow-dusted alley within the bounds of Crime Alley. Following all the shortcuts he knows like the back of his hand, he makes it to the location in 43 seconds.

He doesn't even bother checking for traps or doing anything else that he would normally do in a situation like this. The voice screaming you can't be too late like he was is motivation enough to push himself past his limits. He distantly registers that awful sound of beeping between his heavy footfalls as he searches every room in the building, anxiety rising with each empty room.

He kicks a door open with enough force to completely rip it off its hinges. It skids gratingly across the floor, knocking over a tripod. He doesn't notice that, though.

All he sees is a too-still, too pale body on the ground, pooled in too much blood and being far too quiet. A distressed sound escapes him as he rushes forward, sliding to a stop beside Bruce's curled up form.

“B– Bruce?” Jason whispers, navigating around Bruce’s bruised, battered, broken limbs, finding the spot on his neck so he can feel for a pulse. The silence over comms is deafening, waiting for his deduction.

Jason lets out a strained, choked laugh of relief when he feels that telltale thump of a pulse under his fingertips. It's weak, and thready, but it's there and that's all that matters.

“He's– he's alive.” Jason works his arms under Bruce's back and legs, wincing when he receives breathy whimpers in response. He feels his arms become warm and sticky with blood, dripping down his forearms. “I know, I know B. But we gotta get you out of here. Just stay awake for me, yeah?”

Unfocused cerulean blue eyes look up at him, his brow furrowing as he tries to concentrate.

“J- Jay?” He murmurs, seemingly in disbelief at the sight of his second son. Jason grunts as he lifts Bruce up, gritting his teeth when Bruce lets out a strangled shriek.

“Yeah, old man, I'm here. Unlike someone, I got here on time,” Jason jokes, unable to stop himself from making the jab. Bruce's pained expression falls even further. A stab of guilt pierces Jason's gut, so he decides to avert his gaze and focus on getting them out.

“...’m sorry, Jaylad,” Bruce whispers. His voice is faint, just like both his heartbeat and wheezing breaths. He probably has a collapsed lung.

“Don't sweat it,” Jason grits out, shouldering his way through doors and hallways. The beeping seems to follow him, despite what he does to outrun it.

And then he's blasted by freezing Gotham air. Bruce flinches at the temperature, not dressed for the winter storm that's been brewing over the course of tonight. Jason hugs him closer to his chest, looking around for the telltale flashing lights of an ambulance.

Something screams at him to move.

He runs.

A wave of searing orange heat explodes behind him just as he gets out of the blast radius. Despite that, it still feels as though the flames are licking at his back, singeing his uniform. He uses his body to protect Bruce from the worst of it.

As swift as it was there it was gone, leaving behind the previous bone chilling cold of Gotham winter. He hunches his shoulders, jogging to where he can see those red and blue flashing lights. He ignores Bruce for his own sanity, only keeping his fingers on his wrist so he can make sure the man's heart is still beating.

The EMTs startle when Jason whips around the corner, but quickly fall into their practiced motions of first aid once Jason sets Bruce on the stretcher. He fights back initially when they try to push him away, but then remembers that he's Red Hood right now, not Jason, so he relents.

He watches, almost numbly, as the ambulance drives away with his father in tow.

“I'll be at the hospital,” Jason says flatly into his comm.

“Shall I wake Master Duke?” Alfred asks. Jason thinks about it, then shakes his head.

“No. Let him sleep. Tell him in the morning. I'll…. I'll keep you updated. With whatever they tell me.”

“Of course, sir. I'll make all the necessary calls to your siblings.”

“Thanks, Alfie.”

[familyvideostevie]

HI! Can you do a grumpy!reader x sunshine!sirius black one shot😫

absolutely. i am a grumpy!reader stan, let me tell you, because i am her. okay, here we have kind of grumpy!reader and sunshine!sirius going on their first date | 1.1k <3

You're not nervous. You're not.

It's not like it's a blind date, anyway. You know Sirius Black. Kinda. Lily's the one who set you up, coordinated it all and assured you he's keen to go on a date. You're pretty sure you've spoken to him a few times at parties, been at the pub at the same time. You know what he looks like, at least. Hair that never gets brushed, rings in his ears and nose, a smile that seems mischievous and genuinely carefree at the same time.

He's not as measured as Remus, a bit less puppy dog than James. If you'd been asked in a silly gossipy way which of the trio you'd pick, it would be him.

You just don't want to hope too hard.

Though it's taken a while, you are perfectly aware of and secure in your value and personality. You are "a fucking catch," as Marlene often says, and even if she and your other friends didn't assure you of it, you'd think so. You're prickly, sure. You're quiet in most situations, preferring to observe and go home when you've had enough. You don't laugh much, don't tell jokes. You stand at the edge of the group because that's where you prefer to be.

It's okay that you're not everyone's cup of tea. People have told you before that you should talk more, you should be more present, you should do more things. You're fine as you are and anyone who thinks otherwise isn't worth your time.

So the fact that Sirius is a few minutes late doesn't bother you that much. The bar isn't super crowded and you're sat a pretty comfortable stool snacking on the olives the bartender put out when you arrived. If he doesn't show you'll just get a drink and read the book in your bag and go home and call Lily and you know she'll lay into him.

But just as you consider it, there's a warm hand on your shoulder and you turn to find the man in question grinning at you sheepishly. His name rolls off your tongue.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "Had to take the bus and obviously it wasn't on time. Can I hug you hello?"

You appreciate him asking. Something about you tends to put people off of touch, though you don't usually mind it. "Hi, Sirius," you say, standing to give him a squeeze. He's warm and smells like tobacco and mint, like he popped one on his way over.

"Have you been here before?" He peels off his leather jacket and sits next to you, signaling for the bartender. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yes, and yes," you say. "The Sex on the Beach is quite good."

His eyebrows rise to his hairline and he grins. You keep your face neutral. "Not what I would have picked for you," he muses. "But I trust you." He asks the bartender for two.

"What would you have picked for me?" You pop an olive into your mouth.

Sirius thinks on it. "Stout pint," he says. "Or whiskey." His gaze very quickly travels the length of you as much as he can, sitting so close. "You look lovely, by the way."

That almost gets you to smile. "You do, too," you say instead. "Is that a new earring?" You reach for it without thinking but he doesn't flinch away. A gold star dangles from his right ear instead of the hoop you remember him having last time you saw him.

His grin gets impossibly bigger. How is that he can smile every second of every day? "So glad you noticed, love," he says. "It sure is. It's got a story, too. Something you might not know about me is --"

He talks and talks and talks. Your drinks come and he tells you the story and then another one and you find that you don't mind listening. It feels like Sirius is talking to you, not at you, even though it's clear he could charm a brick wall. He doesn't seem to mind that you only nod or make affirmative noises rather than chime in or laugh, answering his questions for you in just a few words. He just seems to want your attention, which he certainly has.

"And then James genuinely looked at me and said I thought they were the same thing."

The story is funny, sure, but Sirius's own laughter at his joke makes you smile. You feel it happen, feel the corners of your mouth lift and a chuckle make its way out of you.

"You have a pretty smile," Sirius says. He looks about two seconds away from poking it to see if it's real.

"Are you telling me to smile more?" you ask.

That seems to fluster him. You don't think you've seen him flustered before. He runs a hand through his unruly curls, ties them up into a half-up half-down bun thing with the hairband on his wrist. You wonder if his hair is soft.

"I, no," he stumbles. Who knew Sirius Black could stumble over his words? "I wouldn't. That's not something you say to a girl --"

You put a hand on his arm. His skin is warm, the ink that covers it smoother than you expected under your fingers. "I'm teasing, Sirius," you say.

His grin returns twice as strong. How can he flip between emotions so quickly? "You are? Oh, thank fuck."

His profanity makes your lips tug up. You take a sip of your drink and knock your knee with his.

"Hang on," he says. "If you're teasing me that means you must like me."

"What do you mean?" You genuinely want to know.

"Well," he says. "We don't really know each other, even though I've been trying to work up speaking to you at every one of Lily's parties this year, which is why she agreed to set us up, by the way, so I'd stop bothering her about it."

You want to interrupt because, what? but he keeps talking. His gaze is steady, eyes fixed on yours.

"But I get the impression that you don't let just anyone see how many sides you have."

Something in your chest is tight and warm. Is that your heart?

"Sides?" you mutter. "A cube, am I?"

He laughs. Loudly and genuinely. You don't fight the smile this time. Sirius puts his hand on your knee and leans in a little. "I'm not great with words, love," he says. "That's Remus."

"You're plenty great," you say bluntly. "And I guess you're right."

"Hmm?" He blinks a few times and you realize how long his lashes are, his eyeliner making his irises look impossibly big.

"I must like you."

Not a bad first date after all.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[poursomesunaonme]

taste you still !

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: you've been the o'hara's babysitter for quite some time; miguel thinks it's time for a raise!

wc: 4k

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself - i wrote this in two hours off two glasses of wine LMAO

cw: minors dni (pls have ur age in ur bio)!, age gap (reader is in college), drinking (clear for consent tho), pet names (sweetheart, bunny, conejita, little girl), doggy, oral (fem and male receiving), handjob, 69, biting, edging, scratching, size kink, overstim, nipple play, squirting, modified missionary, finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare!

the tv flickers idly across the room as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt.  gabriella had been asleep for a few hours.  glancing at your phone, you find it’s just past midnight.  it’s a warm, friday summer night.  a soft drizzle begins to come down outside.

classes just finished for the summer.  if it had been any other friday, you’d be out at bars tearing it up with your friends.  however, the single dad you nanny for called you in last minute.  you didn’t mind.

the moist rainy air from the outside defeats the advances of the air conditioner, and it’s beginning to get hot in the living room where you sit.  you’re thankful for wearing light clothes, as it helps with the heat beginning to settle. the warmth and the sound of the rain to help your body settle, and you begin to doze off.

you jump as the lock clicks, signaling the return of your employer.  you clear your throat and check your phone before putting it down, acting like you were watching whatever animal documentary was on the tv.  

2:26am had blinked across your screen.  the father enters the house with a quiet sigh, locking the door behind him.

“hi, mr. o’hara,” you say lightly as he hangs his coat and shakes his umbrella before putting it in a plastic bag to dry off.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says, trying to keep the noise down to keep from waking his daughter as he kicks off his shoes, too tired to care if they land strewn across the floor.

“how was your night?” 

“i need a drink.” he chuckles, his footsteps receding into the kitchen to assuage his desire.  “do you want one?”

he had never offered you a drink before.  of course, you’re of age - it was just uncommon, given your position in his family.  

“i, uh…” you stumble over your words.  “sure.  please.  it’s been a long day.”

“i hope gabriella didn’t give you much trouble.”  the crackling sound of ice breaking under an expensive scotch drifts from the kitchen.

“no, she was great.  she just… she missed you.”

the words unspoken scream that you did as well, but you ignore them.  it was delusional to think of him that way, but you couldn’t help yourself for that split second.  it was rare to spend more than ten minutes with him when you helped him out with nannying - there was no reason for you to feel such an emotion.

“yeah… i missed her too.”

some underlying meaning laces his choice of words.  the sound of his footsteps alert you to his presence before he reaches over the couch from behind you to offer you the glass.  you jump slightly, but accept it.  he sits heavily next to you, the couch creaking under his sudden weight.  you both take a heavy sip of the drink.  it slightly burns your throat, but you manage to choke it down anyway.

you’re aware of his identity, as it was necessary to be privy to such matters when taking care of his daughter.  you had detailed protocols to follow in case of such emergencies and the like, but that didn’t mean that you would ask about his mission.  you assumed the subject was off limits, and that strategy kept you in good graces with the man.  instead, he asks you about how the end of your school was, if there was any issue in securing an apartment for the next semester, mundane things and the like.

you answer all of his questions politely.  as much as you want to inquire about his missions, you refrain from doing so. he finishes his drink in no time, asking if you’d like another.  you eye your drink then finish the whole thing, handing the empty glass back to him.

you swear he mutters “good girl” under his breath.  it makes your stomach churn in a way you could have never imagined.

when he sits next to you with the drinks refreshed, it’s much closer.  you feel the heat radiating off his body.  the alcohol begins to course through your veins, and you can’t control the way your body easily gravitates toward him.  you struggle against the muffling feeling, struggle to keep control of your body that so badly wants to be pressed against his.

“oh, did i make a mistake?” he murmurs when he notices your proximity.  “want me to order you an uber?”

“no, no, mr. o’hara.” you shake off his offer.  “i’m okay.  thank you though.”

he pauses, swishing the alcohol in the glass before downing it swiftly.  “in that case, i’m gonna go shower.  you can leave if you’d like, or you can strip down naked and wait for me in bed.”

so i can finally fucking ravage you is the ending that he wishes to add, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

you’re taking a sip as he speaks, nearly spitting your drink out at his proposition.  however, you keep your composure and say nothing as he finishes his drink in one swift gulp and gets up from the couch, leaving a shivering feeling through your skin.

the second he leaves earshot, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

you’re fucked.

it’s like he knows the way you look at him in those minute moments when he leaves and returns from work. it’s like he knows that you continuously brag to your friends about how handsome he was.  it’s like he knows that you’ve said countless times that you’d jump him if you were ever given the chance.

but that was all just a silly little crush.  you never imagined that he would actually give you the opportunity.

he’d made you an offer you’d be downright stupid to refuse.

which is how you end up splayed in his bed, the cool air of the bedroom chilling your skin.  it was the obvious choice.  your chest rises and falls with anticipation.  the hopes of the man following through with his lewd offer brings on an ever-quickening heart rate.  you adjust your position again and again, hoping that each following pose will please him more than the last and help assuage the nervous feeling gnawing in your gut.

just as you chose the simple option to lay back against the pillows with your legs folded delicately together to one side, the shower turns off.  miguel doesn’t even bother drying off before he emerges from the bathroom in a dramatic billow of steam, wet gray-streaked hair tumbling into his face.  small droplets of water roll off his naked body and splatter against the floor.  the musky scent of his body wash hits your nose.  it makes you dizzy.  combined with the sight of him and the heavy alcohol rushing through your bloodstream, you’re completely susceptible to whatever plans he has in store.  you lose your breath at the sight of his tan, toned body approaching you.

“get on your hands and knees.”  the way he commands you is almost a detached sigh.  you don’t hesitate to obey, however.  without thinking, you get up from the position to poise yourself at the end of the bed in the way he ordered.  your heart speeds up, pounding against your ribcage.  this position already?  skipping to the main event?  you aren’t complaining, just surprised.

that feeling of surprise continues when you hear his knees heavily drop to the floor and his hands cup the globes of your ass and spread them apart.  the cold air hits that warm center and you gasp.  you gasp because the feeling is surprising and his lips press between your folds and you gasp because he groans so deeply at the first taste of you.

you’re fucked.

he takes no time to begin diving into every inch of your cunt.  you clutch at the bedsheets, wincing at the cold droplets from his hair running down the back of your thighs.

“mr… mr. miguel.”  you squeak, unable to muster up the brainpower to say anything else.  he works like it’s necessary for him to keep breathing, like he can’t wait to do anything else, like he’s starving, and you’re the first meal he’s come across in days.  

“is this okay?”  he finally pulls back, drawing a gasp from your lips at the cold air hitting that warm place again.  “just can’t… fuck… hold myself back.”

you make the mistake of craning your neck to meet his eyes at his panting candor.  his face just barely hovers above your ass, hands still spreading you apart.  you gulp at the sight of the shimmer of your essence on his lips.  he pants heavily, broad shoulders heaving with the force of his breath.  his eyes are gleaming, his pupils blown out with lust.  he looks fucking crazy, hair tumbling into his face.

you can feel your face heat up at the sight of him, feel your expression fall as you acknowledge again and again and again: you’re fucked.

a nod is all you can manage to urge him to continue.  you turn around and focus on the shiny silk pillows to ground yourself, bracing for the impact.

he merely grunts and dives back between your legs, splattering the last few drops remaining from his dewy skin onto you.  it takes everything in you not to collapse when he begins working with an increased fervor.  apparently, your words gave him great encouragement, as he intensified the movements, even daring to remove his lips from your folds to plant heavy, open-mouthed kisses on the backs of your thighs - and even daring to nip at the sensitive skin. 

before you know it, you sink down into the comforter, fingers whitening in a death grip on the sheets for support.  miguel doesn’t seem to notice - he’s too lost in the feeling of the increasing warmth on his tongue, of the blood rushing to where your body deems it to be.

just as you’re about to finish, he pulls back.  it draws a whimper from you, but before you can utter a word of complaint, he straightens up and begins to rub his length between the sticky wetness that welcomes him.  you whimper at the feeling, pushing your hips back against him as an invitation inside.  he wastes no time in accepting, pushing into you once he’s amply coated. 

your eyes bulge out of your head and you cry out a stilted moan as he doesn’t stop - not until he’s fully sheathed in you.  you sink down fully into the mattress, only supported by his hands when they grasp your waist to hold your lower body upright.  the beginnings of claws begin to poke into the meat of your hips.  overwhelming feelings circulate through every part of your body.  your mind begins to fog over.  you can’t differentiate the feeling from the alcohol or the pleasure; they work in tandem.

he doesn’t waist time to begin thrusting into you, more surely than he’s done anything in his life.  the rhythm is slow, but deep, and it drives you over the edge in no time.  since he left you hanging from the ministrations of his mouth, the movements of his length deep within you shove you over the precipice of pleasure.

“miguel… please, don’t stop.”  you whimper.  your eyes roll into the back of your head and you feel a great weight press into your back.  his lips appear on the shell of your ear.

“don’t hold back for me, bunny,” is the whisper.  “let go.”

you do as you're told, whimpers muffled against the mattress as you give into the pleasure, squeezing and convulsing around his length.  he licks behind your ear before nibbling on the lobe, drawing an extended moan that takes your breath away.  you can’t muster up any words - no praise, no thanks.  just incoherent sounds that express the feelings that you can’t articulate with the onslaught of pressure.

"mi conejita..."

miguel continues to rut into you like a wild animal.  his body presses flush against your back as his hips move, only going deeper and deeper as he jerks them back and forth.  there’s no relief, no breaks you get from his demanding size, from his desire to puncture you deeper and deeper until he finds his own sense of relief.

just as you finish, you think there will be a moment in the trembling of your legs that miguel will spare you.  however, you’re wrong.  the feeling of you constricting around him ignites a new passion in him, one that results in his lips meeting your neck, your shoulders, your back - one that draws his teeth into your skin.

a gasp escapes at the feeling of him nibbling on that sensitive skin, of the feeling of his hips continuing to mercilessly ram into yours.  you don’t want him to stop.  your hands clutch as the sheets, begging for some stability from the bed, but it doesn’t come.

instead, miguel’s hands wrap around your chest to pull you up as he straightens up.  his grip tigthens as you settle pressed against his sweating, heavily chest.  when you’re secured, his hands begin to move.  first and foremost, they grab your chin to face him and without hesitation, his lips crash against yours.  his fingers squeeze your jaw to pry it open and his tongue shoves down your throat.  you whimper against him.  he eats the sound whole.

his hands don’t stop once they leave your chin, trusting that your lips won’t leave his.  they reach down to pinch and pull your nipples, wander down to rub slow circles into your poor overstimulated clit.  the sound of his hips slapping against your raw skin is overwhelming, you can’t help but lean back into his chest for support, his tongue still craving the inside of your mouth.  he grunts in surprise when you start to suck his tongue desperately.  the sound simmers in his chest as he chuckles.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, little girl.”

you find yourself smiling, find yourself squeezing him as he moves inside, threatening to tear your insides apart.

“fuck,” he moans into your mouth.  “christ, you’re tight.”

you moan and whine into his mouth, and he devours those sounds as well.  the vibrations only spur him forward, only egg him on to continue ramming his hips into your body.  his fingers rub unceasingly against your increasingly sensitive clit.

“i’m gonna-” you manage to slur around his overpowering tongue and teeth.  “i’m gonna cum again.”

he groans, lowly and long.  it’s a lewd sound, one that sends all the heat from your body straight down between your legs.  it’s an encouragement, one that sends you over the edge within a split second.  you moan, legs shaking as you begin to collapse onto the bed again.  you can’t help the weakness, can’t help the fact that your legs turn to jelly as he rams into you with want and need that you can’t even begin to fathom.

you squeal as a fresh spurt of juices flow from your cunt, flow around his length, and down your inner thighs.

he swears again at the sensation of liquid beginning to run down his length, trickling down his own legs.  “shit… shit… i-i need that.  i need you to do that again.”

he pants and pulls out.  you gasp at the empty feeling, but he doesn’t give you much time to process it fully before he lays down on the bed and snatches your waist, pulling you over to align your hips with his face.  before you can utter a word of objection or acceptance, he yanks you into his face, burying himself in the warm grave of your cunt.

you throw your head back and moan weakly, tired and overstimulated from the last orgasms, but he doesn’t stop.  his ministrations are unyielding, even when you plant your hands against his hips to steady yourself.  his hard length stands in front of you, just barely out of reach of your mouth.  you can’t help yourself from drooling at the sight, of precum spilling from the tip and mixing with your juices that still dribble down the veins.

you try to move forward, but he pulls your hips back stubbornly, shoving his tongue into you.  you whimper, opting you reach your hand out to wrap around and pump his length until you can get your mouth on the impressive sight.  he slows as he realizes what you want to do.  he knows how much bigger he is than you.  he slides up the pillows to sit up, closing the distance between you and your prize until your lips suckle on the tip, drawing a hiss from him.  as if an attempt to silence the sound, his teeth sink into your asscheck.

“fuck,” you groan as the teethmarks in your skin join the bitemarks he left on your neck, back, and shoulders, still fresh and throbbing.  you attempt to shake off the feeling and start to bob your mouth up and down on his length, drooling over the musky taste of his precum when your tongue trails down the base, every vein drawn like a map under your tongue.

he doesn’t let you indulge yourself for long before he jerks your hips back against his face once more, drawing your mouth from his length with a soft pop.  you moan in indignation, attempting to lunge back to continue your work.  however, miguel’s grip on your hips, the nails beginning to dig in the muscles, successfully stops you.

instead, you pump down his shaft, hoping that you’re pleasing him as much as he’s pleasing you.  another wave of pleasure rolls over you, and you can’t help but whine at the vibration of miguel’s moans as he gulps down the juices that flow heartily from your center.  his dick twitches in your palm.

“please…” you whimper.  “please fuck me… please…”

“no” is the simple answer.  “you’re cumming on my face, mi conejita.” 

your cheeks heat at his unashamed lewdness, at how he so easily expresses his desire for you.  how long had he been feeling his way?  how long had he wanted to ravish you like this?  he seems so resigned to his desires that he just can’t help himself anymore.

he gets his wish soon enough, pulling you so far onto him that his nose dips into your entrance, triggering an explosion of pleasure within you.  he groans as your legs begin to shake around his face, as you give up on pumping his shaft because you can’t focus on anything else but not losing your mind at how good he makes you feel. 

miguel doesn’t give you a reprieve in his agenda, slapping your ass twice to signal a position change before you can even catch your breath.

“get up,” he growls, and you obey.  he pushes you down on the bed in his place - the pillows are still warm from where he sat, still damp from the juices running freely down his face and jawline to soak the sheets.  without hesitation, he grips your calves and throws them over his shoulders.  you’re completely powerless underneath him when he pushes into you fully, not waiting a split second to begin ramming into you, even deeper than before.

it’s nearly unbearable, especially when he grabs your wrists, crosses them with a single hand, and holds them over your head before his lips crash onto yours.  your moans pour into his mouth, and he takes them without a second thought, returning them with equal fervor.  each pound of his hips forces water droplets from his damp hair onto your shaking body.  the way he presses down into you, the way the weight of him presses your thighs against your chest, the stretch aching, the opening angle of your hips for him to ram deeper into your warmth… it’s too much.

tears bead at the corners of your eyes when you open them to find him watching your face, even as he’s shoving his tongue down your throat.  you feel the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile at the sight of you so weak with want, with desire.  he looks fucking feral.

he pulls back, watching your reaction as he turns his head to press sloppy kisses to your calves, nipping at the skin.  welting bumps appear under his mouth, like he’s decorating you in just the fashion he likes.  when he’s finished, his lips crash onto yours again.  he doesn’t stop, doesn’t show mercy, not even when you’re babbling for him to continue, to push you over the edge once more.

“i gotta…” he pants, finally drawing back from your lips to examine your whole body shaking against the rough motion of his hips bulldozing into you.  a single line of spit still joins your lips.  “i gotta taste you still… fuck.”

he thinks for a moment before his fingers dive between your folds, gathering an ample amount of essence before he raises them to your mouth, spreading the liquid across your lips.  you can barely function at the lewd sight, even when he presses his fingers into your mouth, leading your tongue to swish around them and lap up every last drop.  his face contorts when your lips close around his digits, sucking his digits dry.

his mouth crashes against yours, exploring every bud in your mouth with renewed fervor at the flavor of your cunt all throughout your mouth.  you realize he had let go of your hands and you use the freedom to latch your nails into his back, clawing it to ribbons.  he thrusts into you with refreshing vigor, spurred by the satisfaction of your taste, at your nails sinking into his skin, and the warm, pulsing feeling of your cunt around his length at the same time.  he doesn’t last long, doesn’t make it much more time before he moans and whimpers into your mouth, warm cum spilling into you.  he removes his mouth from your kiss bitten lips and opts to bite into your neck, so hard you’re afraid you’ll bleed - but it’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge with him.  but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s groaning against you, fucking the last bit of himself into you, slowing his hips more and more.

when he’s finally finished, you squeeze your arms around him, removing your nails from his skin, welcoming him an embrace for him to collapse into.  he accepts the invitation graciously, his full weight pressing upon you as your legs fall from their position on either side of his hips.

he sighs into your neck, into the satisfying feeling of his cum beginning to ooze from your warmth, down your ass, spilling onto the bed.  there’s a few moments of wordlessness, the only sound echoing the room is breathless panting.

“well, consider this payment for watching gabi tonight?”

you laugh at his offhanded comment that breaks the silence and press a kiss onto his heaving shoulders.

“no, i’m still expecting the same rate.”

“in this economy?  times are changing, sweetheart.”  he raises his head to meet your eyes as you laugh.  “i hear this is the new salary.  don’t tell me you’re that opposed.”

“i’m not… of course not.”  you laugh nervously.  he chuckles at the sight of you getting so flustered.  he swiftly rises, pulling out of you so fast that you barely have time to process it before he gets warm rags and towels from the bathroom.

he comes back and kisses your forehead gently, wiping the residue of the wild night from your body.  it’s a tender gesture, one that you didn’t expect from the rugged creature.  however, it’s not unwelcome.

“well, if you’d like to stick with me, i’m sure there will be some benefits in the future, if you’re willing to stay on.”  he pauses and grins.  “and it’ll be nice to have you here in bed in case i get called out in the middle of the night. you always sound so pissed at me when i call to wake you up.”  

he dries off your wet skin with a towel before letting all of the material fall to the ground, forgotten.  his body curls around you, the overwhelming size and warmth of him surrounding you.

you smirk, letting out a giggle at the continuation of the joke, heat pooling in your cheeks from the easy closeness he pursues with you.  “of course, mr. o’hara.  i don’t think anyone else could match such a wonderful deal.”

divider by: @/ffffffaatality

@dilftaroooo come n get it !

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost. likes, comments & reblogs are always appreciated !

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 10: Pride

Word Count: 998

Rating: G

Pairing: None

CW: Language

Summary: Corroded Coffin plays a gig at a fundraiser in Hawkins and Eddie understands what it's like to really make it. Part of my As You Wish universe!

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Jesus, have we ever played in front of this many people before?” Gareth asks as he shakes out his wrists to loosen them up. 

“Have we ever performed in front of kids before?” Jeff questions in response.

“Have you guys ever played in front of your own kids?” Frank follows up, being the only one in the band who doesn’t have any children yet. 

“Not like this,” Eddie says, fiddling with the knobs on an amp. 

Somewhere out in the crowd of around two hundred are Ryan and Luke, anxiously awaiting their father’s rock star moment. They’re standing somewhere with Brittany and Wayne, and more than likely, Gareth’s and Jeff’s families too. 

At first, Eddie was surprised that Brittany actually followed through on this event and didn’t invent a last minute excuse. But then it occurred to him—this is a family event, this fundraiser for the Hawkins Police Department. If she didn’t show up, then it wouldn’t look like the Munsons are the idyllic white-picket-fence family that Brittany likes to pretend they are to those who don’t know any differently. 

Brittany probably felt obligated the moment Jeff’s wife Nicole, an officer with the Hawkins PD, asked Corroded Coffin if they’d perform at the fundraiser. Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to believe she was here out of the goodness of her heart or because she wanted to see her husband play music onstage. 

“I can’t believe after all the times I had to deal with you guys as punk kids, I’m now about to introduce your band onstage.” Chief Hopper shakes his head and tosses his stub of a cigarette down on the ground, the toe of his boot digging the bud into the dirt. 

“Aw, come on, Hop,” Gareth says, letting his hand land heavily on the taller man’s shoulder. “It was just a few noise complaints when our rehearsals went on too long.”

Hopper flicks the brim of his hat up and raises his eyebrows at the drummer.

“Yeah, with you. Caught Dawson here speeding almost every other week,” the police chief says, nodding towards Frank. “And Munson…well, shit, there’s not enough time before you guys are due on stage for me to get into that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie mumbles, a small smile on his lips, “Jeff’s the golden boy. Still is.”

“That’s because his wife has a gun,” Gareth stage whispers, making Frank and Eddie laugh. 

The applause coming from the crowd out front signals that whoever was entertaining them has finished, meaning the guys are up. 

“Ready boys?” Hopper asks, looking around at the band members. Once he’s satisfied with their nods of confirmation, he heads out onto the stage to make the introduction. 

Feedback crackles before the chief’s deep voice booms over the speakers.

“Up next, we’ve got a band that’s been playing together in Hawkins for well over a decade now. You may recognize them from The Hideout or have even called into the station with a noise complaint about them.” There’s a rumble of laughter from the audience. “And one of the members is married to our very own Officer Nicole Samuels. Please welcome, Corroded Coffin.”

Hearing their band’s name being announced still gives Eddie a thrill, the blood in his veins buzzing with excitement, even after all this time. 

The moment his boots hit the stage, Eddie can hear two particular cheers above all others.

“Yeeeeeah! Corroded Coffin!”

“Yay, Daddy! Go Daddy!”

It’s by far the best welcome he’s ever gotten whilst making an entrance. 

As Eddie adjusts the microphone at the front of the stage, his eyes scan the crowd, and he sees a cluster of familiar faces. Two with extra enthusiasm make his mouth spread into a wide grin. 

Ryan is sitting on Wayne’s shoulders, small black Corroded Coffin t-shirt on, throwing his fists in the air and cheering for his father. Luke is in Brittany’s arms, squirming around like crazy as he waves to Eddie on stage. To Brittany’s credit, she’s grimacing against all the movement Luke is doing, but she’s still holding him up so he can see.

Around them are the other guys’ families, along with Steve, Nancy, Max, and Lucas. 

Eddie gives a wave to his boys as his bandmates get situated behind him. It’s impossible to wipe the smile off his face as he takes everything in: being back on stage, having a crowd of more than five, most of them actually sober, and having so many people he cares about in the audience. Especially his sons.

A surge of warmth crashes over Eddie and he can’t explain it any other way than pure happiness and pride. 

“Hello, Hawkins,” Eddie says into the mic, receiving another round of applause in response. “How we doing tonight?”

“GOOD!” 

Luke’s sweet, loud voice echoes above everyone else’s and Eddie can’t help but chuckle into the mic.

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we hope you’re ready to have some fun.”

They open with Metallica’s version of Whiskey in the Jar. It’s his boys’ favorite song of the iconic band’s because of the fun lyrics that sound like nonsense when you sing along. Eddie knew right off the bat that this is the song he wanted to kick the show off with. 

As the part of the song that the boys like comes closer, Eddie finds them in the crowd and keeps his gaze locked on them.

Yeah, musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, ha, yeah

Whack for my daddy-o

Whack for my daddy-o

There’s whiskey in the jar, oh

The joy on Ryan and Luke’s faces brings Eddie a sense of rightness that he’s never felt before. It’s like something clicked into place within him that’s been waiting all these years to find where it belongs. 

I’ve made it, Eddie thinks to himself. Fuck a record label or a world tour. They don’t mean shit when his playing draws so much joy out of his sons. Nothing can top that. 

This is what making it feels like. 

[nethhiri]

Slipping and Falling

Security Guard! Zoro x Mermaid! Reader

One Shot - Modern AU

Warnings: none

I'm really proud of this one and I think it's so stupidly cute <3

The only thing worse than a mall cop was a nighttime security guard, even worse: a nighttime security guard at an aquarium. Not even a museum. Zoro had been the daytime security guard until he dozed off one too many times, then he was demoted. His boss, Mihawk, said that if he couldn't wake up for the day shift, maybe he was more suited for the night shift. He didn't say it was a demotion, but Zoro wasn't an idiot. This was probably his last chance before they canned him.

He breezed through the doors, already 5 minutes late. He threw open the door to the small security office, apologizing and straightening his uniform. "Sorry. My stupid roommate baked my keys into a loaf of bread again." 

"That's either the weakest excuse you've had yet, or your roommate hates you." King already had his jacket on, ready to leave.

"The second one. Please don't tell Mihawk I was late." Zoro threw down some rice balls and chips from the convenience store down the street, his snack for later. 

King snatched one of the rice balls. "Deal."

"Oi!"

King gave him a peace sign and flicked him off.

Zoro let out an exasperated sigh. His shift had just started and it was already off to a terrible start. He plopped down in the shitty folding chair and threw his feet up on the flimsy desk, watching the small black and white monitors that overlooked the exhibits. Only a few couldn't be seen, one of them being the new mermaid exhibit. The tech guys hadn't come to install the camera yet. Which meant that Zoro had to walk the halls every so often, making sure everything was fine. If something happened to the mermaid, he would definitely be fired. 

He grabbed his flashlight from his belt, which also had mace and a nightstick. What the hell was he gonna do with some weak-ass pepper spray and a glorified baton? He walked through the aquarium, shining his light around the places that weren't illuminated at night. He jumped when he saw two eyes reflecting back at him. The mermaid's exhibit wasn't lit at night either. She was basically a person, she needed to sleep too. He tapped on the glass.

You covered your ears and frowned. The noise was amplified through water and it hurt your sensitive eardrums. 

"Oh shit. Sorry!" Zoro put his hands up to signal he meant no harm. "I didn't mean it." The mermaid swam up to the glass and mimicked his movements.

As far as he knew, it didn't talk. The mermaid did understand language though. He watched you copy him. Zoro did a few more poses to see if you would copy those too. He ended with making some kind of funny face, pulling his cheeks out and his lower eyelids down. Zoro was disappointed when you didn't copy that, and could swear you were laughing at him. Huh. He continued his rounds and returned to the office. The rest of the night was uneventful. 

The next few nights were more of the same. Each night when he stopped by your tank, he tried to make you laugh again, mostly to prove to himself that's what you were actually doing. Even though you didn't talk, you were obviously an intelligent creature. Tonight, he had a new game. Zoro wanted to see how smart you were. He also felt bad that you were stuck in that tank without anything to do and maybe this would be entertaining. He took three Solo cups and set them upside down on a cardboard box he brought over. Then, he showed you a piece of candy and put it under the cup. Zoro mixed up the cups slowly.

"Where is it?" Zoro watched as you pointed right away to where it was. "Nice. Ok." He grabbed the candy and backed away from the tank. It was nearly floor to ceiling. It was huge. There was a gap at the top where people went in and out to perform tank maintenance. Zoro aimed for the top and threw the candy into the tank, observing as it sank down and you swam to grab it. He laughed when you put it in your mouth and spit it out. "That's a sour one. Give it a chance." He laughed again as your face contorted with the sourness, relaxing a little as it got sweeter. You pointed at the cups. "So you liked that? Let's try faster." He went a few more rounds, giving you candy every time. Then, you disappeared, returning with three shells. You plucked a scale from your tail and stuck it to the bottom of one of the shells. You repeated his actions and looked at him expectantly. Zoro pointed at one of the shells and you turned it over, revealing no scale. "I meant that one." He pointed to the shell next to it and you flipped it. You grinned and took the scale out from under it, swimming to the top of the tank and leaning over the glass above him. Zoro caught the scale and looked at it in his hand. It was iridescent. He couldn't really say if it was blue or green or purple. It was kind of all three at once. “Thanks. I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?” Zoro flipped the scale over in his hand, watching the colors melt together as he patrolled the corridors. He wondered what else he could entertain you with. You seemed to enjoy it a great deal. He wondered if you responded like this to any of the keepers or the guests of the aquarium. 

Unfortunately, Zoro had to call out sick the next two days, some kind of stomach bug. The next time he came around to your tank, you were nowhere to be found. He was tempted to tap on the glass again, but he knew you didn’t like that. Instead, he threw some candy in, the kind he knew you liked. Zoro waited for several minutes, opening a bag of chips that he had brought with him and popping a handful into his mouth. You emerged, drawn out by the candy, after a few minutes, darting out to grab it and go back to your hiding spot.

”Oi! Where ya goin?” Zoro yelled through a mouthful of chips.

You shot him a look from around the rock you hid behind. 

“What?!” Zoro was at a loss. “Did I do something?” 

You pointed at him, then to where he stood, then behind you. 

It took him a minute to remember, but he did. “You’re mad because I wasn’t here?”

You gave him a curt nod. 

“Aw man I’m sorry. I did say I would be back, huh?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was sick. I couldn’t come to work.”

You stayed in your spot, eating the candy.

”How can I make it up to you?” Zoro would hate to piss off the only company he had during these long nights.  You coyly peeked around the corner and pointed to the chips in his hand.

“These?” Zoro held the bag out and you nodded. He couldn’t very well toss those to you. They would get soggy. He walked up the ‘employee only’ spiral staircase that went to the top of your tank. He didn’t like being up that high so he focused on looking into the water and not at the ground. 

You swam up to the rim of the tank, hands grabbing for the chips.

”Okay. Okay. You have to eat them here though or they’ll get mushy.” He handed the bag over. 

You carefully inspected the chip before biting into it, delighted by the crunch. 

Zoro hadn’t been this close to you previously. He noticed the different tones in your hair, how it flowed around you. He saw the slightly different colored speckles in your Y/E/C eyes. Your skin looked so soft and there were freckles he hadn’t noticed from behind the glass. There was a slight grin on his face as he watched you enjoy chips for the first time. You were particularly fascinated by the crunch, biting them slowly to listen to the noise they made. Zoro sat with you and took the empty bag when you were done.  “So am I forgiven?”

You looked him up and down before nodding slowly.

Zoro smiled. “Good. How about I come back with more tomorrow? Really this time.”

This time he kept his promise. Each day he brought you a new flavor. He figured out you didn’t really care for the spicy ones, probably because spice was a bit foreign to you, also explaining why human snacks were so intriguing. Maybe you would like the spice eventually. He would find you waiting at the top of the tank for your special treat. It was weird to watch you eat in silence, so he would tell you about his day or his roommate. Occasionally, he would tell you something about himself. You were a great listener since you didn’t talk. 

Several weeks passed like this. Zoro had to take a brief vacation to help his other roommate recover from eye surgery; there was a tragic accident involving a stag beetle. When he came back, Mihawk was none too pleased. King had taken over Zoro’s shift, but kept falling asleep since he was usually a day shifter. Every morning during this time, Mihawk would come in to take over and find that the snack counter had been raided. It looked like raccoons had gotten into the packages. Curiously, the cameras hadn’t picked up anything. They moved periodically, panning around. It seemed like whatever or whoever was stealing, could avoid them. Nothing else was tampered with or taken.  “Hey, shitbag. Hope you get the rat problem under control. Or Mihawk is gonna have your ass,” King slapped Zoro’s shoulder on the way out. 

“How is this my problem?! It happened on your watch!”

”And now it’s your watch.” King laughed as the door shut behind him. 

Zoro stopped at your tank, as was his routine now, and explained he didn’t have anything for you since he couldn’t get to the grocery store to restock. His eyes couldn’t be torn away from the disappointed pout that crossed your features. He was a bit ashamed to admit he really liked looking at your face. He wasn’t alone. Part of the attraction to the mermaid exhibit was your beauty. He didn’t like the idea he was the same as the people who paid to ogle you. He actually cared about your well-being. 

That night the thief struck again. Zoro didn’t see a thing. Oh, but he heard about it the next day. Mihawk lit his ass up, calling him as soon as he managed to fall asleep at home after his shift. He accused Zoro of falling asleep on the job again. That wasn't true, but it's possible that he was distracted, daydreaming perhaps. He would have conversations in his head with you. He imagined what you might sound like and how you might speak. He liked spending time with you and he wanted to know more about you, but couldn't do that if there was no way you could communicate with him. 

Zoro purposefully waited for King to leave before going in the back entrance. King would definitely taunt him over his shortcomings and he really didn't want to start the night that way. He was already in a bad mood since Mihawk woke him up just to yell at him earlier. Zoro sat heavily in his uncomfortable folding metal chair and slid down, knees pointing to opposite corners of the room, glaring at the monitors. He wasn't going to take his eyes off the screens for a second. He would get to the bottom of this just to rub it in Mihawk and King's faces that he could. 

When it came time for his nightly rounds, he checked every door and every window to make sure they were all locked. There wasn't any evidence around them that pointed to someone coming in from those potential entry points. He looked up at the air conditioning ducts. Is someone really going to go all spy movie just for some snacks? There was a noise in the direction of your tank that alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. Quickly, he ran in that direction, putting his flashlight in his mouth so he could hold his baton in one hand and his mace in the other. The large, open room came into view and he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Before he could react, he suddenly lost traction under his feet and was tumbling backwards. The last thing he remembered was hitting his head. 

His head was throbbing. Zoro groaned as he came to. Why am I wet? His entire back was wet, not damp, wet. He opened his eyes to soft light and a blurry, dark shape hovering over him. He blinked a few times, each blink making his vision clearer. A person? But there's not supposed- He pushed himself back, feeling around for his mace. 

"Who- Who are you?" He made contact with his flashlight and flicked it on, pointing it in the direction of the shadow. Red eyes flashed back as the light from the flashlight bounced off the back of your eyes, reflected to him. His eyes slid from yours, down your body, and landed on your tail. "Mermaid?" What was she doing out of the tank? 

You scooted closer, using your arms to pull you across the slick floor. 

Zoro looked at the water all over the floor and back at you. Your hair was plastered to your body where it was still wet, but he could see some parts that were fluffier and strands that were blown around lightly by the air conditioning. That made him think you had been sitting here with him for longer than a few minutes. How long had he been out for? He looked at the ceiling, which was partially made of glass, so that the mermaid could have natural light. The sky outside was the dusty purple color of early dawn. His shift would be over soon. And King would be coming to take over. King is coming! Suddenly, he was panicking. 

"We have to get you back in the water!" If King saw the mermaid like this, Zoro's ass was going to get canned. Zoro crouched in front of you, about to slip his arms under you so that he could carry you back to the water. He paused. "Oh... Um. Is it ok? Do you mind if I...?" 

You opened your arms up to reach for him.

He took that as an invitation, scooping you up bridal style. Your arms wrapped around his neck for support. Zoro didn't want to slip again, but he had to hurry to get you in the tank and all of the mess cleaned up before King got here. He jogged up the stairs to the top of the tank and gently dipped you down in the water. "Stay." He had no fucking clue how you got out, but he needed you to stay in. He zipped back down the stairs and hurriedly grabbed a mop from the janitorial closet, getting all the water dried from the floor. Zoro ran around the rest of the aquarium, making sure nothing happened while he was knocked out. Everything seemed to be fine. 

Zoro had just headed back to the security office when King came in to take over the shift. Just in time. He breathed a sigh of relief and then immediately started thinking about how the fuck you got down to where he was. Did you jump out of the tank? Crawl down the stairs? He was thinking about it until he went to sleep for the day. 

He came in early the next evening. The aquarium was still open and he went to see what your exhibit looked like when it was still open. The tank was big, but he wasn't quite convinced it was big enough for a creature like yourself. He watched as some guy banged on the glass with his hand. Zoro instantly frowned, knowing that you hated when people did that. He walked over and grabbed the man's wrist, pulling it away from the glass and thrusting it into the man's own chest. 

"Stop that." Zoro glared at the man. "She doesn't like that."

The man looked him up and down. "Who the fuck are you? Her keeper?"

"Actually, yeah. I am. So cut it out or you'll be escorted out." 

The man grumbled but didn't do it again.  

Zoro stood in front of the glass, eyes searching for you for a moment, finding you with a sweet smile on your face. You made the slightest nod in his direction, thanking him for putting an end to the horrible noise. Zoro stuck around until the people cleared out, making sure it didn't happen again. The last two people were a couple, who couldn't be bothered to stop their heavy petting after the two minute closing warning. You were staring curiously at them. He shooed them off and waved at you as he went to clock in and trade off with King.

There was some paperwork he had to take care of which delayed his usual stroll to your tank. It was about an hour past his usual stop in his loop. As he approached, he could hear shuffling and some crinkling. It stopped suddenly when his shoes make a squeak on the tile flooring. He cursed under his breath, inching forward slowly. There was the hurried sound of crunching followed by the slap of feet against the floor. 

"Stop! Thief!" Zoro yelled after the footsteps, nearly eating shit on the wet floor again. "Where the fuck is all this water coming from?" He ran down the hallway, then back up the hallway, then did a full loop, and stopped. He didn't hear the footsteps anymore. "Dammit." He snuck around more quietly on his way to get a mop. The thief had to be somewhere. He cleaned up the mess without any further sign of the intruder. Curiously, the snacks that were eaten included some of the flavors of chips he had brought you. That just meant the thief had good taste in snacks. Only two bags were eaten, so he wasn't worried about actually continuing his hunt. He could cover that up. Mihawk could shove it. All he cared about was getting to your tank. Zoro sighed. Now, he was really late. You were going to be mad at him. 

As it turned out, you weren't. Especially since Zoro had brought you something new to try. He was beginning to feel guilty. What if these foods were really bad for you? What if they made you sick? He also couldn't resist seeing the way you lit up when he came around with your nightly snack, or your pout when he pretended he forgot it, so he would continue to spoil you. Zoro climbed to his spot at the rim of the tank. You were already there waiting with your hands held out in a bowl-shape. 

"Didn't we talk about begging?" Zoro tsked at you. 

You held your hands out more demandingly and furrowed your eyebrows.

"Jeez. Okay, here you go." Zoro placed some incredibly misshapen small chocolate chip cookies in your hands. 

You gave them a curious sniff before putting all of them in your mouth at once, filling up your cheeks. 

Zoro chuckled. "You remind me of my roommate, who I had to fight off by the way, to get these to you." He averted his eyes for a moment and his cheeks turned pink. "I, um, made them myself." At the cost of shining his other roommate's work shoes for a week, he helped Zoro out with the baking. When he turned back, you were holding your hands out again and licking the crumbs from around your mouth. He grinned. "So you liked them?" 

You nodded. Reaching your hands out further. As he leaned down to put more in your hand, you caught sight of the pink in his cheeks. Reaching out curiously, you poked and pinched at his cheek. You didn't know humans could change color. 

Zoro jerked back. Not that he was afraid of you, he was just taken aback by your sudden interest in something other than food. "What? Is something on my face?" He only turned a deeper hue, cheeks burning red. 

You placed your palm against his cheek, feeling the warmth in it. Humans were a lot warmer than you thought. With the other hand, you continued to munch down cookies. You offered the last one back to him, noticing that he didn't eat any. 

Zoro wasn't aware that you knew the concept of sharing. "Thanks." He popped it into his mouth, stretching to swat a crumb out of your hair. 

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, just like those people from earlier. 

He pushed you, very gently, back. "Whoa! Hey, what are you doing?" If Zoro's cheeks were red earlier, now they were purple. "That's for- That's just for people who um-" He saw a hurt look on your face. "No, don't do that. It's okay!"  He patted your hand and explained. "You can't just do that. That's called a k-kiss and um, it's for two people that really like each other." 

But you did like him. Did he not like you? 

You still looked hurt. "Um, here, okay." Zoro knelt by the tank, getting his knees wet from where you had dripped. He held his arms out and waited until you copied him. "We're friends. So this is what friends can do. It's called a hug." He circled his arms around you, very lightly squeezing. You did it back, except you were not very gentle about it. "Oh, wow, you're a strong one huh?" Zoro let go, waiting for you to do the same. He waited some more. "You can let go now." There was a funny look in your eyes, and your smile was awfully sinister for a sweet mermaid. 

You pushed back from the edge of the tank, dangling his car keys in front of you.

Zoro felt his back pocket. "What the-?" He laughed. "You little shit." He motioned for you to come back. "Give those back!" 

You shook your head. 

"Please!" 

You looked at him expectantly. 

"I'll bring you more cookies tomorrow?"

You threw his keys back to him with surprising accuracy and he caught them in midair. 

Zoro shook his head to himself, walking back to the security office. He couldn't stop thinking about how soft your lips were.

For the next few days, nothing eventful happened. Zoro had racked up multiple weeks of doing Sandi's chores, just so he could learn to make a few more different cookies for you to try. Why was he doing all this? He told himself it was because he felt bad that you were trapped in a tank for the rest of your life. And he did feel bad about that, that part was true. Selfishly, he wanted you to like him. Tonight's batch hadn't gone well. He wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to you. Zoro hated seeing disappointment on your face. 

He was shocked when you were nonchalant about it, and a touch suspicious. Later, Zoro remembered that he stored an extra snack in his backpack and retrieved it to give to you. Again, he heard the telltale crinkling of a chip bag. This time, he would get the thief. Zoro must have startled them somehow even though he didn't make a sound because the thief took off running. He kept up this time, barely making out a shadow in the dark. As soon as he got close enough, he tackled the person, fingers brushing against bare, wet skin. What's with everything always being fucking wet!?.This person was... nude? What kind of sick pervert-? His thoughts were evaporated from his mind when he saw that it wasn't just any random naked person. It was you. "MERMAID?!" He looked down. "But there's legs and- a-and-!!!" Zoro got up faster than he'd ever moved and covered his eyes. "S-stay right there." He turned around and ran to his backpack, where he had a change of clothes for the gym. 

Zoro came back with a T-shirt and boxers, practically throwing them at you. From the top of his head to his neck was red. It turned out that your bottom half could turn into a human's, in every way. Funny, when you had a tail, your naked top half, covered by your long hair, didn't seem scandalous. With a naked bottom half, the naked top half was painfully obvious. 

"A-are you covered up?" Zoro peeked to make sure before dropping the hand over his eyes. "I'm so sorry for- for seeing and um... Sorry!" He felt bad about tackling you even though you weren't hurt. He offered you a hand to get up. Now it made sense. Every time he forgot a treat or was late in getting to you, the thief struck. It had been you all along. And the legs explained how you were able to get out of the tank, too. 

You were wobbly upon standing, as you always were when you got your legs.  You grabbed his shirt for balance as you stumbled unsteadily forward. 

Zoro gave you his arm to hold while you slowly gained control of your legs. He tried not to think about how cute you looked wearing his clothes, leading you toward the fish tunnels, where there weren't cameras. "I think you already understand, but you can never let anyone else see you like this, okay?" There was concern in his eyes. Zoro was certain they would turn you into an even bigger sideshow attraction than they already had. "And you have to stop stealing food or I'll be fired." Zoro held out the chocolate bar he had found in his backpack, yanking it back when you reached for it. "Mermaid, show me you understand." Zoro only relinquished the candy when you nodded.

Tearing into the packaging, you discarded it on the floor, holding the chocolate in your bare hands. 

"Oi! You're gonna get it everywhere." It was too late, as he saw the brown staining your hands. He sighed. "Never mind." 

You laughed at his alarm. 

"So you think it's funny, huh?" 

You nodded, popping another piece into your mouth. Your hand reached playfully to smear some on his cheek.

"Don't do that!"

You giggled again. 

He really couldn't be mad when your eyes were glittering with joy and your giggling brought a stupid grin to his face. He wiped off the chocolate and licked his finger. 

After the last bite, you looked at the mess on your hands and wiped them on your shirt, to Zoro's horror.

"Oi! What's wrong with you?! Quit that!" He grabbed your hands. "What are you? An animal?" He dragged you to the bathroom to wash your hands. 

You thought about it and nodded. 

"No! You're a person." Zoro stood behind you and guided your hands. It made sense that you had never washed your hands before. 

Watching the water made you thirsty. You bent down to drink out of the sink.

Zoro practically jumped backwards when your hips moved back against his. "H-hey. We'll get you some water. Come on." He knew you were unaware of what you were doing. It wasn't on purpose. He was ashamed at the thoughts that entered his brain at that second. Pushing them away, he grabbed your hand again and brought you to the water fountain, where he demonstrated how to use it. 

After that, he followed you as you walked through the nearby exhibits, the ones without surveillance. Zoro watched as you excitedly pointed towards some fish. You stopped in front of one of the larger tanks, putting your hands against the glass and smushing your face against it. This tank was much larger than yours because it held whale sharks. Your smile slowly fell into something more somber as you yearned to go back home. You missed the wide open ocean. 

As dawn approached, Zoro led you back to your tank, gesturing for you to go back. 

You shook your head.

"What do you mean no? You have to." Zoro hadn't seen you like this before. You weren't your normal perky, sweet self. "What's wrong?" 

Your lip quivered. You pointed to the doors and yourself. 

"You want to leave?" 

You nodded.

Zoro scratched his head. "You can't leave. I- I wish I could help you."

Tears spilled over the rims of your eyes. 

"Oh no. No. No. Don't do that." Zoro looked around as if there was someone else that could comfort you. Relenting, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him. "I'm sorry, mermaid. I really am." He felt you shake with sobs, gently sitting down with you on the floor. He ran his hand over your hair, thinking about how much of a loser he felt like. He let Mihawk and King walk all over him. Zoro hated this job. The only thing that made it tolerable was you. So why did he care so much about keeping it? Money and the ability to see you. He could find another job, but he couldn't find another you. "Mermaid, give me some time. I'll think of something. Okay?" 

You pulled your head away from him, with a sliver of hope in your red-rimmed gaze. You nodded. 

Zoro helped you out of his shirt, which you got stuck in trying to take off. He shut his eyes and turned around while you slid his boxers off and jumped back into the water. He squatted down and put his hand on your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. "Stay." He said it tenderly, but he meant it. Zoro couldn't have anyone else finding out about your secret. 

Over the next few days, Zoro thought about how he could smuggle you out. If you disappeared and he never came back, it would be pretty obvious who stole you. If you disappeared, he would be fired anyway. He put that plan on the back burner and thought about how he might be able to improve your current living situation. 

"Don't you think the mermaid should be in a bigger tank?" 

Mihawk looked over his newspaper at Zoro. "Oh so you're a marine biologist all of the sudden." He was about to leave for the night but wanted to finish his articles first. 

Zoro rolled his eyes. "No. I just think the mermaid looks kinda sad lately." 

"You won't have to look at her sad face much longer." 

"What? What's that mean?" 

Mihawk lowered his paper once more. "Oh. You haven't heard? She's being transferred to a government facility." 

"Why!?"

Zoro's boss eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you care? Have a crush?" 

"Oi! Shut up, man. A guy can't feel bad for a creature that's nearly human being imprisoned? How would you like it?"

"I think if you feel bad for imprisoned creatures, this job isn't for you." 

"Yeah you're fucking right about that." Zoro was heated. 

Mihawk threw his paper on the desk. "Because you care so much, they want her for research." Before Mihawk clocked out, he tossed over his shoulder. "Say goodbye to your little fish friend. She's leaving tomorrow." 

Zoro was sweating with this new information. Tomorrow! He hadn't come up with any kind of plan. Maybe he could ask Luffy and Sanji if they would help. No, he couldn't ask his roommates to be accomplices. He avoided you until the last remaining hour of his shift, unsure how to tell you what was happening. Seeing you cry again was going to break his heart. Hell, his heart was already breaking because he knew he had no way to save you. He couldn't break you out of here, and he certainly couldn't steal you from a government facility. 

Zoro found you in your usual spot, waiting for him. You seemed to be in better spirits, which made it harder for him to tell you. He sat on the edge of your tank, setting his backpack down. He had planned to leave right after. "Listen." He let out a deep sigh. "I don't know how to tell you this but they're moving you out of here t-tomorrow." Your face brightened and you pointed to the door. He smiled apologetically. "No... not out out. You're being transferred somewhere else." He could see your eyes get glassy. You pointed to him, then yourself, then the door. "I- I can't. There's no way." Zoro held his head in his hands and apologizing over and over again. 

You pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the tank as well, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you sat like that for some time. Zoro ran his hand through your hair, trying to memorize the way it felt before he had to say goodbye. You leaned your head on his shoulder, staring into his gray eyes. He shifted so that you could face him better. Leaning forward, you paused, as if asking permission, and Zoro didn't stop you as you pressed your lips to his again. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing you deeper into the kiss. He let out a startled noise when you bit him on the lip and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you broke the kiss and looked away bashfully. 

"No. No. It's- It's okay." Zoro's voice was low and raspy. "Do it again." 

You did as he asked, lightly biting him on the lip, and he returned the favor. You pressed your tongue into his mouth, running it alongside his own. He groaned. Now! When he was fully distracted, you tugged him into the water with you. His eyes widened in terror as you pushed him to the bottom of the tank, sucking the rest of the air out of his lungs. You broke the kiss and touched the side of his face lovingly, watching him flail as he fought to break free from your grip. You petted his hair as he had done to comfort you. Only a minute or two more before he became unconscious. It hurt you to do it, but you couldn't live like this anymore. You had waited for him, though that didn't mean you couldn't also think of a plan in case he failed. 

When King came in, not long after, he immediately noticed something wasn't right. None of the lights were on. The power was out. He rushed to the emergency generator and powered it on. All the pumps to the tanks were connected to it in case something like this happened. Without the backup power, it would only take a few hours for creatures to start dying off. With it on, some of the lights flickered back on. The generator only powered the most important electronics, not the cameras. Naturally, the first thing King did was check on the most valuable assets. While his eyes scanned your tank, trying to find you, they instead found Zoro floating at the top of the water. 

Within 15 minutes, the aquarium was swarming with first responders. In the chaos, no one noticed someone in a gym shirt and boxers run out the front doors, all their attention on Zoro. Nor did they notice the drying puddle near the main circuit breakers, located unwisely next to the mermaid's tank.  

Zoro had no fucking idea what happened. He thought it was just a nightmare until he woke up in a hospital. They said someone broke into the aquarium and stole the mermaid. They shorted out the main power so there was no security footage. It was assumed that Zoro was defending the mermaid when the attacker got the upper hand on him. Mihawk had left him a message wishing him a speedy recovery and to take his time coming back to work, in fact, maybe he shouldn't come back at all. He was cleared for discharge after a day with some antibiotics to prevent pneumonia from setting in. 

When he came back to his apartment, Sanji greeted him from the kitchen. "Hey, assface. Your girlfriend has been waiting for you for a whole day now. What the fuck is wrong with you? Making a girl as pretty as her wait? I don't even know how you managed to pull someone like her." He was half-pouting as he said this.

"Girlfriend?" Zoro didn't have a girlfriend. 

"Yeah she was in your clothes. She's your girlfriend isn't she? While you were busy laying your lazy ass in the hospital, she showed up looking for you. Well, I assumed so. She doesn't talk much." 

Zoro didn't wait for the blonde man to finish before running into his room. 

Luffy piped up from the couch, calling after him. "Tell her to quit eating all my snacks!" 

When he opened his door, you were sitting in the middle of his bed, surrounded by empty snack wrappers. His previously white shirt, now on you, was covered in orange and brown snack residue fingerprints. Your entire face lit up upon seeing him. You jumped from the bed and ran to him, throwing your arms around him and peppering kisses all over his face. 

"Oi!" He pushed you back lightly. In a quiet voice he hissed, "You drowned me!" 

You nodded happily and bounced on the balls of your feet in an excited way. You pulled him back down and rubbed your nose against his.  

The pieces gradually fell into place. "This was your plan." He grabbed your face as you nodded again. "I knew you were fucking smart." He pulled you in for a hug before kissing you. 

You pulled away, grinning. You were hyperventilating with excitement and working up courage. 

"Easy. Breathe. " Zoro could see you were trying to communicate something. "What is it?" 

"S-s-s." You furrowed your brows. 

Zoro's eyes widened. He didn't think you could speak. 

"S-stay." You pointed to yourself, soft, hopeful eyes tilted towards the green-haired man. "Stay?" 

A reassuring grin crept across his face. "Stay." He pulled you in for another hug, resting his chin on your head.