#sure numbers came before it but the idea that they gave you powers the higher they got flipped my brains creative switch all the way on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reids-rendering-reality · 4 years ago

Text

Guys My Age

Summary: Y/N is the newest addition to the BAU team and Spencer appears to have taken a special liking towards her. The only problem is, he thinks he’s too old for her. However, that’s all about to change when they share a hotel room.

(A/N: I’m such a sucker for the hotel room trope so I combined it with two of my other favourite ideas: Spencer being older than the reader and catching her doing yoga)

Type: fluff + a sexual innuendo or two

Warnings: dirty thoughts, insecurity about age, age gap, anxiety, yoga?

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I pulled the handle of my satchel over my shoulder as I sighed. It was a very long day in a small rural town somewhere deep in Alabama. Everyone else had gone back to their hotel room, besides Hotch and I. There was just something about this case I couldn’t get out of my mind. The feeling of being so close to the final piece of the puzzle, as if it were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t grip it. Yet I had to let it go for the night and get some rest. The much needed REM sleep could give me an entirely new perspective on this problem to me tomorrow. At least that’s what I hoped.

On the walk to the hotel room I was getting increasingly nervous, the more rooms I passed in the hallway. This small hotel did not have enough rooms to accommodate the whole team separately. They only had four rooms for the seven of us. JJ and Emily had immediately paired up, just like Rossi and Morgan. And Hotch being the team leader took the single room. Leaving me with our newest and youngest member, Y/N.

It’s not like I didn’t like her. That’s not what it was at all. Just, she made me a little bit nervous. She was so beautiful that sometimes I couldn’t get out any words around her. And that says a lot because I always have something to say. But as cheesy as it sounds, in some moments there is not a single fact that I can recall.

But the elephant in the room demands to be heard. She is younger than I am. And that by a lot. By exactly ten years and three months. That appears to be a lot. I don’t really know why, but that bothers me. We are both adults, but because of social conventions at our age, I feel as though it is inappropriate. Yet if I were 60 and she were 50 or I was 80 and she was 70, no one would even blink at the gap. Yet because we are young it matters. I feel sad when I think about it because I like her a lot. And when we talk I don’t notice the age gap. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it wasn’t even there at all.

What surprised me as I was having these thoughts and neared the room was the fact that I actually considered asking her out. Since Maeve I have not been on a single date. And who said she would even be interested in anything beyond a casual friendship or even colleagueship with me? That’s not even considering the amount of courage it would require for me to tell her. But it’s not like that would be a fruitful endeavour.

And that was the last thought I had before I reached the door to room 179. A prime number. Prime numbers would be my lucky numbers if there were such a thing.

As I rummaged around my pockets and satchel for the key card I noticed the sound of music coming through the door.

“Gotta thank him he’s the reason

That I’ll find what I’m looking for.”

I heard a woman sing over the sound of an electric guitar. I still hadn’t found my key card.

“Guys my age don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me.”

My movements stopped when my brain registered the lyrics. Guys my age…?

“Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good.”

My breath hitched and I gulped, key card in hand. Did she mean that? Could it be possible that she would be interested in someone ten years older than her? The feeling of hope was beginning to form in my brain, scenarios of what could be clouding my vision. But they were quickly pushed aside by a dark storm of self-doubt. Because most people don’t listen to lyrics as closely. The lyrics to a song don’t mean anything to them. Did they mean anything to her?

I realised I had been standing in front of the door for way too long and gathered all my confidence to go inside. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. After closing the door behind me and tucking away the key card into my bag I turned around for the first time.

There she was. In the middle of the room in front of the two twin beds on a yoga mat. Her front leg was bent as she stretched her back. She was only dressed in skin tight pants and a matching bra that complimented the way her body was contorted. The soft light from the night lamp next to one of the beds made her skin glisten just noticeably as if it were glowing. I could feel my eyes widen as I my brain finally added up the pieces of what I was seeing.

“Oh, hi Spence!” she said gleefully turning her head towards mine, “I was feeling a little tense after sitting in that conference room all day. I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t even bother to attempt to talk, I could feel how dry my throat was and how my lips would not listen to any command I would’ve given it. So I just shook my head and pulled my eyes away from her as she moved her upper body towards the floor, holding herself up by her ellbows. I walked towards the beds in her general direction trying not to notice how gorgeous her ass looked now that her body was turned away from me. That I even had that thought surprised me and caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. I was thankful that she couldn’t see my face in that moment as I loosened up my tie. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, my attention drifted back to the song.

“Don't know how to love me good

So I'm never going back”

There was nothing in that moment that could keep me sane. My wildest dreams could have not come up with this scenario. It felt utterly unreal.

As the song ended I saw her change positions again from my peripheral vision.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said while turning the music down.

I noticed panic begin to fill my brain. She wanted to have a conversation.

“I um- it’s been kind of a long day,” I said and cleared my throat, while deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to turn around towards her.

“Have you been at the station the whole time? You must be exhausted,” she responded and continued when I didn’t answer, “I thought you could show me that show you’ve been gushing about.”

How was this real life? My brain began to lose control of my executive functions as my body turned around to face her. She was now sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, her hands wrapped around her feet as she looked up at me. The low-cut top she was wearing gave me a perfect sight into the curves of her-

I dared not continue that line of thought, already flustered enough as it is.

“Really? You’d be interested in watching that?” I said and blinked.

Her lips spread into a smile, twinkling her eyes, “Yeah, of course. The way you described it makes me really curious.”

“We could watch an episode or two before going to sleep, if you want.”

I just had to take this chance. Even if I could only begin to have a friendship with her, I wanted to be close to her because for some odd reason, I couldn’t bear to admire her from afar.

So not long after, I was setting up the odd hotel room tv to watch the show. It took me the entirety of her taking a shower so that I was only standing back up when she was walking out of the small bathroom in a white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She smiled up at me as she walked past me, her hand brushing my arm so casually that I questioned whether it actually happened.

I hesitated again before sitting down on the bed. Was she going to get dressed in front of me? Because no matter how much my amygdala wanted me to see that, my frontal cortex wasn’t going to allow it. I forced myself to look through my satchel in an attempt to find a distraction as I waited for her next move. But luckily, she didn’t tempt my brain too much into overdrive.

I felt as if there was a higher power not willing to spare me for the night when she came out of the bathroom a second time, now something someone might call dressed. She was in a loose light coloured satin pyjama set that showed off her legs perfectly. And as if that were not enough to torture me for the night, she joined me on my twin bed with her bag of chips.

“I hope that’s okay with you, then we can share snacks,” she said so innocently that I almost believed it. But I could still hear the song ringing in my ears and I noticed her eyes take a short glance down at my lips as she said it. I was almost convinced that I wasn’t imagining things.

What really sealed the deal was that I noticed her scoot a tiny bit closer to me every once in a while. At first I could only feel the warmth she radiated, but after about 30 minutes I felt the bare skin of her arm against mine. My breath quickened, which I was sure she had noticed.

I knew the episode off by heart. Which was to my advantage because then my brain could run in a speed that I could barely follow. I tried my hardest to calm down a little bit, which was hard when I could feel the movement of her body as a whole-hearted laugh filled her throat.

“Y/N,” I whispered with all my courage. It was so low that I almost thought she wouldn’t hear it, but she turned her head towards me her eyes following a few seconds after.

Her eyes met mine and it was like I could feel my neurons firing electrical signals throughout my entire body. And just like that, in one swift movement she had grabbed my face by the back of my head and pulled me into her lips.

That was the first time that night that my muscles began to relax as I eased into the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine. It was as though I was beginning to lose myself in the kiss, all insecurities about her feelings towards me or my inexperience gone.

When she ultimately pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, we were both panting gently. My whole body felt warm with the feeling of her breath on my skin and her hands still in my hair. I didn’t dare open my eyes, still afraid that I would wake up from this idyllical dream.

We both didn’t know what to say as we pulled away further and looked at each other. I wanted to say something, to let her know how I felt, but once again, my brain did not follow my commands.

“Did you know when you kiss someone for the first time it causes your dopamine levels to increase for a short period of time? It also makes your heart rate and the oxygen supply to your brain to raise,” I heard my voice say in something between a whisper and my normal talking voice.

“For the first time, huh?” she grinned a little at me.

I reached for her hand and gently took it in mine. I moved her palm over my shirt to the centre of my chest. I could feel my heart race through her hands and I know she could feel it too. She looked up into my eyes again with a look on her face that told me all I needed to know.

861 notes · View notes

existslikepristin · 3 years ago

Text

Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

#red velvet smut #snsd smut #girls generation smut #joy #sunny

156 notes · View notes

absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Part 3! Starring Mini Mammon and Mini Asmo!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Underground Tomb special Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 4

MC names:

Lucifer’s kid=L!MC | Mammon’s kid=M!MC | Asmo’s kid=A!MC

Why did bad things happen to good people? Well... Lucifer being a good person is up to interpretation. He hadn’t done anything too heinous recently, his instruments of torture were collecting dust for goodness sake! So why oh why was he staring down two half demon children who looked suspiciously like two of his brothers?

The first kid to step forward was Mammon’s without a doubt, but their general demeanour was very different from their father’s. Perhaps their other parent had done a good job-

“What the fuck was that?!”

Never mind. The kid had Mammon’s pottymouth.

The other child surveyed the scene with a nervousness that their suspected parent never possessed. The kid’s gaze fell on Lucifer, their eyes began to glow ever so slightly. “Uh-um...” the kid cleared their throat. “Someone explain what’s going on!”

Was this child seriously trying to use manipulation powers on Lucifer? He almost laughed at the mere idea of someone trying. The child didn’t even seem to be aware that they were doing it. When their question was met with blank stares, they instantly shrank back and practically hid behind the first half demon. Despite the severe self-esteem difference, this kid was Asmodeus’.

Lucifer’s own child cleared their throat and smiled. “Welcome to the Devildom!”

The Uncle That Looks Like he Has his Shit Together but he Leaves the Reunion Drunk off his Rocker (Lucifer)

Ah shit here we go again-

Okay- okay. Normally he’d scold L!MC for taking Diavolo’s line, but Dia had recovered from his shock and was now gushing over the new exchange students like an excited puppy.

“Okay... L!MC you’re going to need to share your room.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Unless Belphie is willing to give up the attic as a nap spot-”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“You’re sharing your room.”

RAD was buzzing with gossip for the entire first month of the second attempt at the exchange program. The threats of being eaten were once again stamped out very quickly.

(Special thanks to L!MC for being a good bodyguard)

Now, Lucifer didn’t exactly know what to expect when it came to the child of his favourite brother. Mammon was a dumbass, but this kid... this kid...

Was smart.

For the first time in Lucifer’s very long life he felt compelled to place someone in a higher echelon than himself.

Mammon’s child managed to successfully budget that dumpster fire of a house. On the first fucking day. Not only that. This kid managed to skim FIVE THOUSAND GRIMM OFF THE TOP AND THE BUDGET STILL WORKED! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT-

Lucifer and Mammon thanked whatever spirit was watching over them because they truly believed their financial woes were over.

Shame that M!MC also spent their money on dumb stuff they didn’t need. Like father like child.

It’s no secret that Lucifer does have a bit of a soft spot for Asmo, I mean, who doesn’t love Asmo? But A!MC was a blessing sent right from the Celestial Realm.

They were just... too sweet. Way too sweet. Lucifer was actively getting cavities just being near them.

Anyone who bothered A!MC and M!MC during the first month ended up getting... uh... suspended.

(We can assume the threat of suspension would have extended to those who bothered L!MC but all the lesser demons were already terrified of them.)

Normally when Lucifer called someone into his study it was to lecture them for at least four hours and then send them to their rooms, but he was having quite the difficult time actually being upset with M!MC and A!MC.

A!MC looked close to tears and M!MC just stared right back at Lucifer with little to no fear in their eyes.

“Starting a fight during the first week of school is not how I expected the exchange students to behave.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, and prepared to continue the lecture, when he heard a sniffle. There wasn’t enough Demonus in the entire Devildom...

“I-I’m s—sorry...” A!MC sniffled, quickly wiping at their eyes. “Th-they were being r-really scary and we did-didn’t know what else to do...”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“I threw them out of the window.” M!MC huffed. “They were bein’ a dick.”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“That um...” A!MC mumbled. “That’s not all... I may have... told them to stick their head in a toilet first...”

“You made them stick their head in a toilet,” Lucifer turned to M!MC. “And then you threw them out of a window?”

“Yes.” M!MC and A!MC replied. Lucifer downed the rest of his glass of Demonus and debated whether or not it would be a show of weakness to slam his forehead into the desk in front of the children.

Lucifer looked between the two for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “It’s my job to deal with threats to the exchange students, not yours.” Lucifer stood in front of the two, he rested his hands on their heads and gave them a quick pat, before knocking their heads together. “Next time someone bothers you, tell me. If I hear even a whisper of you two getting into another fight, I’m hanging you from the ceiling. Is that clear?”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other, then back at Lucifer and nodded. “Yes sir!”

“Good.” Lucifer removed his hand from their heads. “Now shoo.”

Flying lessons for the two of them went way quicker than it did for L!MC, mainly because L!MC was a way better teacher.

As much as Lucifer loved his newly found niblings, he couldn’t show it too much. Outward softness was reserved for L!MC and L!MC only. M!MC and A!MC were stuck with silent acts of affection.

Every once and a while a little present or two would end up in M!MC or A!MC’s possession. Some ice cream money for M!MC when they blew their part of the budget on fancy sunglasses, a multiplayer video game that the three half-demons could play together, new shoes when A!MC accidentally ruined their’s...

He’s a good uncle. A scary uncle. But a good uncle. ^_^

(Don’t tell him I said that, I’m still in trouble for advertising Mammon’s escape Go Fund Me and I don’t want to have to write the rest of this HC hanging upside down.)

He’s Not Like the Other Dads, he’s a Cool Dad! (Mammon)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (Fear)

He’s a dad?! HE’S TO YOUNG TO BE A DAD! Hang on- he’s over five thousand years old...

Oh would you look at that! His kid pulled out a calculator.

...his annual income? Uh... why do you- HEY! WHAT’S WITH THAT FACE?!

M!MC puffed out their cheek as they continued to add the ever growing list of numbers into the calculator. Mammon was trying to get a peak at what they were calculating. M!MC suddenly looked up and practically lit up the room with their smile. Aw, their fangs were growing in!

They had a devilishly charming smile, just like their pop! A real chip off the old block! It almost brought a tear to Mammon’s eye and he actually felt compelled to give this kid all the money he had on him. Maybe even his Rolex too!

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed,” M!MC said sweetly. “My... dad.”

“Yep! That’s uh... that’s me!” Mammon awkwardly ruffled his kid’s hair, the kid laughed good naturedly.

M!MC’s sweet as honey smile flipped from elated to malicious in a manner of nanoseconds. “You owe over thirteen years of child support. Dad.”

Everyone say thank you to Lucifer and Diavolo for getting M!MC to compromise and not try and sue their father.

If you thought Mammon spoiled L!MC you’ve got another thing coming. Mammon’s wallet never stood a chance against his kid.

Poor Goldie, press F to pay respects.

Mammon also tried to teach A!MC and M!MC to drive, M!MC has no regard for their safety, the safety of others, or the laws of the road, buuuuuuuut they manage to get the car back with no dents and no property damage bills are being delivered to the house sooooo...

A!MC can drive fine... it’s just that they adhere to literally every law known to demonkind, which means neither Mammon or Asmo are allowed to open up the sunroof and do that movie thing where they pop their heads out and yell something. ITS NOT SAFE!

Our beloved dummy also tried to teach his kid how to play poker, with... limited success.

“Aw, come on kiddo.” Mammon smirked, flicking his kid on the nose. “Your poker face is awful, I can also see your cards from here.”

M!MC growled and held their cards closer to their face. “My poker face is fine!” It was in fact, not fine.

Mammon scratched his head and thought for a moment. Was he sure that this kid was his? I mean, they weren’t good at poker, had terrible luck in blackjack and roulette, and could barely understand the rules of craps. Craps! While he was lamenting the loss of possible gambling winnings, an idea hit Mammon at a thousand miles an hour.

“Hey kid, you’re damn good at math like your great and amazin’ father, have you ever thought about learnin’ how to count cards?”

Fancy outfits on, hair done (sorta), car ready, the two were off to the casino after quite the intense training montage. It appeared that casinos in the Devildom allowed children inside... Diavolo should really fix that.

“Okay M!MC, you remember what to do, right?”

“Yes. Remember the signal, and if someone catches on, deny deny deny.”

Mammon gave his kid a slap on the back. “Damn straight! You got this, bud.”

As the night dragged on, M!MC and Mammon had made their weight in money, paper money, they had made a SHIT ton is what I’m saying. Tragically, neither the Avatar of Greed or his child had any sense to leave before their luck crashed like the Stock Market in 1929.

They were both Icarus, and they were playing chicken with the sun... and by 3 am they were also playing chicken with security.

“GO GO GO!” Mammon shouted as he and M!MC sprinted towards the car, the night’s winnings in hand.

“I think I lost a shoe!” M!MC gasped as they scrambled into the car, security on their heels.

“I’ll buy you new shoes JUST PUT ON YOUR SEATBELT!”

Re-enacting every Fast and the Furious movie in twenty minutes was how that lovely night of father/child bonding should have ended... until they got home and realized they were locked out.

“The window to my room!” M!MC whispered, pointing up at their window. “It’s usually unlocked, we can climb up to get to it.”

“Good idea!”

M!MC tucked the bag full of their precious money under their arm and began the climb to their window, their father close behind. They had almost made it, they were so close, M!MC could literally touch the window-

The window swung open and the smiling faces of L!MC and A!MC greeted them.

“Oh my, it looks like we have some delinquents breaking curfew~.” L!MC cooed, resting their head on their hand.

“You shouldn’t be gambling this late! A-and your accessories don’t match!” A!MC huffed.

“Oi! L!MC, A!MC! What are ya doin’ up this late! It’s not good for ya!” Mammon whisper-yelled.

“My sleep schedule should be the least of your concerns right now, right A!MC?” L!MC elbowed A!MC, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep! Those who break curfew are hung from the ceiling by their toes.” A!MC shuddered.

M!MC rolled their eyes and stuck out their hand. “Come on L!MC! Let us in! You should listen to your older cousin!”

Upon hearing M!MC pull the older cousin card L!MC smiled deviously, grabbing both of M!MC’s hands. “Of course, dear cousin.” They leaned in. “Long live the king!”

L!MC shoved M!MC downward, Mammon caught them, but lost his own grip and they both lost hold of the money, which fell out of the bag and onto the ground like snow. Paper snow...

Oh well, at least Mammon and M!MC landed in some of the bushes...

“Ya know,” Mammon said as the money fell around them. “I’ve had dreams where this has happened.”

“Wow,” M!MC smiled. “Me too!”

Yep. This was his kid alright.

Not all his father/kid time revolved around money, it also revolved around both of them trying to avoid horror movie night without making it look like they were chickening out.

“Okay, I’ll fake a medical emergency!”

“Kid, no! They’ll never believe that!”

Since A!MC had their father’s eye for fashion and none of the judgemental comments, the kid became Mammon’s unofficial style coach.

“U-um... I hate to say it but those shoes don’t match with the rest of the outfit, the silhouette is confusing...”

“What’re ya talkin’ about? I look fantastic!”

“Are you blind? You look like a thrift store threw up on you.”

“Who invited you, Asmo?!”

“I’m here to support A!MC! You’re doing great by the way, sweetie!”

He may have cried a little when M!MC was able to fly without help... sniffle... they grow up so fast...

Oh- oh fuck they both crashed into the tree-

Oh My God he Actually Showed Up?! (Levi)

That... that couldn’t be real life! A shut-in’s worst nightmare! More people he needed to talk to!

Considering Mammon and Asmo’s track record with taking care of his things, Levi was incredibly hesitant to invite the two to binge anime with him and L!MC.

It seemed that the two normies inherited their fathers’s level of respect for closed doors. What I’m saying is the two crashed anime night.

“I have never seen such bullshit before.”

M!MC’s hands were stuffed in about five pairs of socks each, effectively turning their hands into useless nubs.

“You be quiet! This is to make sure that you don’t take any of my things and try and sell them on Akuzon!” Levi hissed, turning back to make sure his figurines were safe from the mini Mammon. A!MC was standing awkwardly next to L!MC, who was sitting in Levi’s gaming chair reading manga.

“So what are we going to watch..?” A!MC piped up. “I haven’t really watched much anime but I did watch Digimon...”

“I was more of a Beyblade kid.” M!MC hit their sock-stumps together to make a thumping noise.

Levi looked like he was ready to have a stroke. “L-listen! Those are gateway anime! You two need to watch proper anime! Non-dubbed anime!”

A!MC let out a shriek and stared at their reflection in a very shiny looking gundam figurine. “Have I been wearing off colour lip gloss the entire day?! O-oh no... I’m a mess!”

Levi let out a strangled wail and snatched the gundam out of A!MC’s hands. “D-don’t touch that! It’s worth more than a house!”

“It is?!” M!MC perked up and tried to wrestle their way out of their sock-gloves.

“Don’t make me stick you in a straight jacket...” Levi growled. He turned to L!MC with a pleading look on his face. “Please make them stop...”

L!MC grinned deviously and closed their book. “Of course I’ll help you, if we watch season two of The Promised Neverland.”

Levi shrieked and nearly pulled out his hair then and there. “It’s manga divergent! MANGA DIVERGENT! THEY SKIPPED SO MANY ARCS!”

M!MC and A!MC continued to wreak both purposeful and accidental havoc on Levi’s room, he was just about ready to summon Lotan then and there when L!MC shrugged.

“The ball’s in your court, Levi.” L!MC leaned back in the chair and resumed reading their manga.

Levi’s willpower shattered the moment he heard something fall off one of his cabinets. “WE CAN WATCH WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST MAKE THEM STOOOOOP!”

Quick as a flash, L!MC was out of the chair and had both M!MC and A!MC by the ears.

“HEY!” L!MC growled. “STOP ACTING LIKE IDIOTS OR SO HELP ME GRANDFATHER YOU TWO WON’T LIVE TO SEE GRADUATION!”

M!MC and A!MC became the most well behaved children in the Devildom after that... and L!MC and Levi got to watch their anime in peace.

Okay, Levi wasn’t heartless, he loved his lame normie niblings. They were just very very loud...

Though, M!MC was very good at finding merch for way lower prices... and A!MC actually really liked some of the anime they watched... Maybe they weren’t so bad.

M!MC’s attempts to budget that financial dumpster fire of an otaku was not going well, at least until M!MC convinced Lucifer to dangle concert tickets in front of Levi like a carrot on a stick until he agreed to do his best to stay within the monthly budget.

Levi had learned his lesson from L!MC’s flying lessons and steered clear of them, but luck was not on his side. The ONE time he willingly stepped outside of the house...

Both M!MC and A!MC crashed right into him.

The Uncle With the Cat You Never See and Aren’t Really Allowed to Pet. (Satan)

Oh fuck him sideways the house was going to be so much louder... Say goodbye to his quiet reading time...

On the bright side, the look of pure disbelief and exhaustion on Lucifer’s face gave Satan the biggest rush of serotonin he’d ever had in his life.

To be honest, he got on well with Asmo, and he... well it’s Mammon.

Could have been worse.

Could have been ANOTHER child of Lucifer.

“So... who do you think did it?” M!MC asked as the opening to the fourth episode of the murder documentary they were watching began. “I think it was the sister.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” Satan asked.

M!MC shrugged. “Chick’s shifty.”

“I um... I think they disappeared on their own accord.” A!MC murmured. “I mean, so far it seemed the two’s home lives sucked...”

“Good theory.” Satan nodded to himself. “But both of you are wrong, it was very clearly the mother and the neighbour.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” L!MC asked, imitating Satan’s voice. Detective Toe Beans was sprawled out on their lap.

Satan glowered at L!MC and leaned over to scratch Bean behind the ears. “The step-mother and neighbour are backing up each other’s alibis and they have a motive, access to a possible murder weapon, and a way of disposing of the corpses.”

L!MC rolled their eyes. “That’s a load of crap. It was just the step-mother. The mother had the motive, she and the father were on the outs, she wanted the father’s inheritance all to herself so she got rid of his kids.”

“How many more episodes of this are there?” M!MC asked. “This seems like a really dragged out way of just saying: I don’t know.”

“Sh! They’re explaining possible corpse disposal methods!” Satan hissed.

The four of them traded theories until the documentary series eventually ended with an unsatisfying ‘we dunno’.

“This is such shit...” M!MC muttered. “How have they managed to fill eight episodes with all these leads and evidence and the case is still unsolved?!”

“It’s because everyone involved was incompetent and stupid.” Satan sighed.

“You know,” L!MC smirked. “With all the true crime stuff the four of us watch, we could create the perfect crime.”

“We really could.” M!MC nodded in agreement.

“Using A!MC’s powers no one would suspect us...” Satan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Uh...” A!MC shifted uncomfortably. “On an unrelated note... I’m going to go...”

As A!MC scampered out of the room, L!MC turned to Satan and M!MC.

“There’s always the one weak person in the group who’s not down with murder.”

“A sad truth.”

“Hang on I thought we were talking about theft or something-”

Satan and M!MC are surprising study buddies, hell, they even help Mammon study. Or... it’s more accurate to say that they try to help Mammon study.

A!MC is good company, they’re quiet when they read, unlike most people in the house who felt the need to provide commentary on every single event that occurs in the book.

After proving to be quite useless in L!MC’s flight lessons, he just reminded the two new half demons to wear protective padding.

The Hot Single Dad That’s In Every Romcom That Features a Child (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (excitement)

Oh... his... father... HE WAS A DILF NOW-

He practically vaulted out of his seat to coo and fuss over his new found hellspawn, they were just SO CUTE!

Their wings were just like his! So adorable! Oh and those little horns! They were so cute Asmo just might have combusted then and there.

Of course, he couldn’t combust without finding out which of his flings had made such an adorably shy mini-him.

“Ah! I remember that party!” Asmo squee-ed as he looked at a picture of A!MC’s parent. “They looked so hot in that outfit I swear I was completely-”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer grumbled. “That’s a child in front of you.”

“Oh! Right! Mind if I call your ren, A!MC?” Asmo asked, ruffling their kid’s hair. “I want to see if they remember me fondly!”

As Asmo chattered with A!MC’s parent about just how adorable and perfect their kid turned out, Asmo leaned over to A!MC to ask a question.

“A!MC, I know this is sudden but how do you feel about getting a sib-”

“ASMODEUS IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I WILL FEED YOU TO CERBERUS!”

“Tsk. Rude.”

It’s safe to say Asmo adores his kid. I mean, they’re 50% him, how could he not.

He didn’t exactly have experience with the whole... being a big part of his kids’s life thing. Sure he held the unofficial record for most kids but that was because effective birth control hadn’t been invented at the time when he was allowed to run rampant in the human world, not because he was an A+ dad.

None of that mattered! He was going to be a 10/10 dad to A!MC!

They were so shy... so... mouse-like...

“Um... dad?” A!MC awkwardly twiddled there thumbs as they stood in the doorway to their father’s room. The sweet smell of whatever essential oil was being spread with the diffuser did next to nothing to calm the poor half-demon’s nerves.

Asmo popped his head out of his walk-in closet with a sparkling smile. “Yes, child of mine?”

“I um, just wanted to ask...” A!MC was desperately trying to stave off an oncoming stutter-spiral. “H-h-how- *ahem* how do- ugh...”

A!MC steeled their face and straightened their posture.

“How do I be confident like you?!” They blurted that out a little too loud for comfort, but Asmo’s near-immediate joy quashed any embarrassment A!MC was feeling.

“You want to be like little ol’ me?” Asmo gushed, clearly trying to hide just how flattered he was. “Well, of course you do! Your dad’s got your back. So first what we’re going to do-”

The Avatar of Lust had done the stereotypical early 2000s movie makeover many times before, but never with so much enthusiasm. His kid’s style was fine, it wasn’t a lack of pizazz either, it was the lack of confidence in the pizazz.

“Okay, now stand up straight.”

A!MC straightened their back as much as they could.

“Perfect! Chin up, shoulders back, and there you go!”

A!MC didn’t look too different on account that Asmo felt like their fashion sense was perfect, but dear not-old dad coached MC on a new walk, better posture, and Asmo filled their arms with about seven boxes of self-care supplies.

“What’s all this for?” A!MC asked, shifting the weight of the boxes slightly so they could actually see their dad.

“That, A!MC, is all the stuff you need to have confidence.” Asmo explained. “It’s not required of course, but it sure does help.”

“I’m not sure I follow...”

“Oh sweetie, it’s simple really. When you take care of yourself, you feel better, and when you feel better, you look better, and when you look better and feel better, your confidence skyrockets!” Asmo shifted some of the boxes A!MC was carrying around so they could stand up straighter and not be held down by the weight of the self-care arsenal. “Good posture stops your back from hurting, dressing decently helps you feel better about your appearance, as does taking care of your skin, aaaaaand all this will culminate in you being your best!”

A!MC still looked a bit skeptical, but they nodded anyway.

“Remember MC!” Asmo said as he led MC back to their room to help them sort their new stuff. “Confidence in yourself doesn’t happen overnight, so don’t let Mammon try and sell you a fix-all potion because it’s just boiled Gatorade.”

“O-okay- wait did you just say-”

“Yes, boiled Gatorade.” Asmo shuddered. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Dear uncle Asmo? A financial dumpster fire?! It’s more likely than you’d think.

Sure, Asmo’s got a job and makes his own money, but Geez Louise... one demon does not need that much hand cream! Or that many questionable Akuzon packages that everyone is too afraid to touch...

M!MC had their work cut out for them is what I’m trying to say.

Of course... once M!MC realized what a lost cause getting Asmo to stop with the obsessive bath bomb purchases was and a few too many insults were thrown at M!MC’s dear dad... some of Asmo’s things went uh... “missing”

But would you look at that! No one went over-budget!

Even though their dads have a fierce party related rivalry, A!MC and M!MC get along great. It’s very wholesome.

The Uncle That Helps You Pester Whoever is in Charge of the Food at the Family Reunion About Dessert (Beel)

Yay! More kids :)

Do you think any of them know how to cook? No? Okay... :(

Beel adores his new niblings with all his heart and soul, and Belphie’s out of the attic and is able to meet them with everyone else this time! Yay!

I didn’t mention this in the other parts- but Beel totally gave L!MC piggyback rides whenever they asked, but now that two more kids have arrived... it’s now a fight to be tall.

But yea- kids like uncle Beel. Strong contender for favourite uncle.

“Do you think this is right?” A!MC asked as they fiddled with the settings on the stovetop.

“No clue. Do we put the cheese on while the meat is cooking or do we wait until after?” M!MC asked, they flipped through multiple cheeseburger recipes on their DDD, their frustration growing. “Hang on- do we have a deep fryer?”

A!MC rummaged around the cupboards and shelves for a good fifteen minutes and came back empty handed. “No, but I’ve seen videos of people making fries without a deep fryer, I think we just need to heat up vegetable oil and drop the potatoes in.”

After setting up the make-shift deep fryer, the two cousins carefully dropped the first fry into the oil, then screamed like banshees when some oil splashed close to their hands.

“Did you get burned?!” M!MC asked, A!MC shook their head.

“No, you?”

“Nah...” M!MC eyed the oil warily. “We should do this one at a time to be safe...”

It was an awkward process, grab potato, place potato, scream, make sure no one is burned, repeat. As... decent as the process was, with both of them manning the deep fryer, no one was manning the patties that were now completely charred.

“What’s going on in here? It smells like Solomon’s cooking.” Beel poked his head into the kitchen and saw two very upset children and the world’s messiest kitchen.

“We’re failures. That’s all...” M!MC murmured.

“We wanted to make lunch for all of us and we ruined it...” A!MC added.

Beel’s heart was set to explode then and there- but his stomach growled. “You tried your best, don’t feel too bad. Let’s get cheeseburgers somewhere else with Belphie.”

M!MC and A!MC nodded enthusiastically as the three of them left the destroyed kitchen behind them.

After Beel had to sling a sleeping Belphie over his shoulder, the now four of them were halfway out the door before they heard L!MC scream bloody murder.

“YOU IDIOTS COME BACK HERE AND CLEAN THIS MESS UP RIGHT NOW!”

M!MC and A!MC made eye contact, then sprinted out the door. “CHEESEBURGERS FIRST!”

A!MC and M!MC probably go to all of Beel’s games like the little super fans they are. Beel is very grateful for the support! :D

Flying lessons? Nnnnnot again. He’s here for moral support and moral support only. And to catch the two babs when they inevitably fall.

The Uncle Who Was Like... Really Racist the Last Time You Saw Him But He’s Not Anymore (Belphie)

So he uh... he didn’t try and kill these two. That already gave the two newbies a better first impression than what he gave to L!MC.

The Anti Lucifer league ALSO grew, just by one member though. A!MC was very easily persuaded to snitch on whatever prank the group concocted.

The attic nap club gained two new members, but Belphie still had to deal with wings hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’d usually return the favour with a swat from his tail.

“M!MC I swear I will throw you out of the window if you kick me again.” Belphie murmured, mashing his face into his pillow.

“Mmmph.” M!MC threw a pillow in Belphie’s direction.

“Quit whining, Belphie.” L!MC huffed. “You’re doing better than me.”

A!MC had attached themselves to L!MC like a sloth to a tree and would not let go or stop drooling. Ah schadenfreude, the best feeling in the galaxy...

“Stop with that look.” L!MC hissed, Belphie snickered. “I’m telling you to quit it because you’ll wake up Beel, and Beel is solving your M!MC problem.”

Belphie turned to see Beel practically crush M!MC into a bone breaking hug in his sleep.

“Should we do something about that?” L!MC yawned.

Belphie smirked his little douchebag smirk. “Eh, let them stew for a few more minutes.”

“Help me...” M!MC rasped.

Out of the three, A!MC is probably the best nap buddy, they bring in their own pillows and don’t hog the blankets.

Belphie is once again at the forefront for taking videos of the flying lessons, at least till M!MC accidentally broke Belphie’s DDD.

Just a friendly reminder, the sleepy cow man would kill for these kids.

Look at them funny and no one will find your body.

Okay! That’s part 3 done! I had to cut Belphie’s and Satan’s short because of post limit stuff, but the stuff with the side characters is coming soon! Also, Mammon would like me to inform all those who donated to his Go Fund Me that you will NOT be getting your money back, he has a kid to deck out in full Gucci now, he needs the cash!

343 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

unfair, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, ft. yoongi

summary: Min Yoongi lived a simple life, alone in his apartment with his dog, Holly. Then he (and his dick) noticed his next-door neighbor. And her boyfriend. But nothing was going to come out of that. They weren’t trying to seduce him... right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (jk/you); pining/slow burn; overheard smut; smut (fem reader, threesome, m and f-receiving oral); lil fluff; starts off with Yoongi’s POV, then changes to yours when it gets... fun. ;)

Min Yoongi had a problem. A problem most men probably had, but not a problem he was used to. He wasn’t a thirsty kind of guy. For most of his life, he really didn’t care about sexual shit. He had fallen in love, sure, but that was the gradual feeling, the kind that grew slowly but surely, and ultimately burned out when the girls would basically tell him he was boring as fuck. Which he knew he wasn’t. He was just… really garbage at being romantic.

Of course, he was older now, so he had some idea of romance and showing affection, not for his sake but for the sake of loving someone. Even if he was bad at it, the whole point was to try. To be honest, he hadn’t actually put that theory into practice yet, but that was what he had concluded after his last break-up. But now he had a problem.

It was not fucking fair how fucking hot his next-door neighbor was.

It just wasn’t. To whatever higher power was up there, what the actual fuck? Why do this to him, Min Yoongi, of all people? He was a kind boy. A good soul. He didn’t need to step out of his apartment to walk his dog Holly to see his next-door neighbor in a sports bra and leggings wiping her brow with a towel after her morning run. A little sweaty, cheeks flushed, skin glistening. Holy fuck. To top off that banging body, she looked up at him and gave him a confident smile and a polite nod before going into her apartment. Not even embarrassed.

Fuck. Now he had to walk his dog with a hard-on. Great.

To make it even worse, he was pretty sure she was taken. A guy would come around and they would leave together, probably to go on dates. Usually he was in sweats and a bucket hat but this time Yoongi saw him in slacks and a dress shirt.

And, oh, holy hell.

Of course, the guy was fucking handsome as fuck. Nice broad shoulders and muscular arms. Cute face with a mischievous smile and nose scrunch when he laughed. A sweet, tiny mole underneath his lower lip and another on his cheek. Neat black hair swept to one side, begging to have hands running through those strands. Round, brown doe eyes. Thighs could probably crush him and Yoongi would be happy about it. And then she came out of her apartment in her tight black dress and heels, sliding into the guy’s arms so easily and giving him a kiss. The dress showed off her nice round ass and juicy, squeezable thighs.

It was all fucking terrible for Yoongi.

“Ooh, you’re looking pretty for me today, love.”

“Wow, Jungkook, contain yourself for one second so we can at least eat first.”

“I’m ready to eat something, that’s for sure.”

He was not creeping; he was collecting a package outside his door. That was it. He was not the least bit interested in what was going on next to him.

Holly raced out of his apartment, his tiny fluffy brown butt bouncing as he rushed to the people, barking excitedly. Yoongi nearly dropped his package in surprise, shoving it under his arm and rushing over.

“Holly, no! I’m so sorry–”

The guy, Jungkook, laughed as he crouched down, barking back at Holly playfully.

“Aren’t you cute? What’s your name, little one?”

His next-door neighbor smiled at him. Yoongi was ready to crawl into a hole in embarrassment. Not only was he looking frumpy as fuck in a stained white t-shirt and black sweats, but he was also struggling to wrangle Holly with a large box under his arm. To top it off, Jungkook was not making it any easier by chasing Holly around. Yoongi’s black hair was messy and unbrushed, long enough to almost cover his eyes. He was basically a hobo compared to these two.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, he’s a bit–”

“It’s okay.”

He froze up. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

He swallowed. “H-Holly.” Oh shit. He accidentally looked at her chest. Why did she have such pretty collarbones? She seemed not to notice. Instead she looked over to Jungkook who was wrestling with Holly on the floor and rubbing his belly.

“He’s really cute,” she said with a smile. “You don’t mind if Jungkook plays with him a little, do you?”

“N-no,” Yoongi mumbled, biting his lip. She had plump, shapely lips stained red.

She held her hand out. “I only moved in last month.” He placed her hand in hers. She had a nice, firm handshake. She was telling him her name and he was imagining her hand wrapped around his cock. He needed to get a grip.

“Min Yoongi,” he said robotically. What are social skills? Yoongi didn’t remember any of them at the moment.

“That’s Jeon Jungkook,” she was saying, pointing to the young man on the floor. Holly was licking his hands excitedly. Yoongi noticed a small heart tattooed onto Jungkook’s right hand. Fuck. He had nice hands too. His cock was waking up. Oh fuck.

“Come on, Holly, we have to go now.”

“Aww,” Jungkook whined. Why the fuck was this guy so fucking cute? Please have mercy. Jungkook waved to Holly with a smile. “See you later, Holly!”

Yoongi bowed awkwardly and scurried back into his apartment, Holly bounding in behind him as he shut the door. He barely even squeaked out a goodbye. He didn’t have a chance because – yup, now he had a giant boner.

Holly wagged his tail and barked up at Yoongi, who sighed and shook his head.

His brother asked to take Holly for a while. It was fine with Yoongi; his older brother was going camping with his wife and Holly loved being outdoors. Actually, he invited Yoongi, but Yoongi knew he wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of guy and suggested Holly to go instead. Holly loved Yoongi’s brother – maybe even more than Yoongi himself, the traitor. To be honest, if his brother decided to have kids soon, Yoongi had always said it would be a good idea for Holly to grow up with them. Dogs were an essential part of childhood, after all.

That’s why Yoongi was sitting alone in his apartment, reading, with no dog noises around him to distract him. It was nice, quiet, and serene.

Or it would be, if it wasn’t for his next-door neighbor literally fucking up a storm.

Instead, Yoongi was seething at the shared wall next to him as he was very clearly hearing someone getting banged. Which was fine, because people were allowed to do what they wanted. Yoongi didn’t care. Except he did kind of care, because he was absolutely sure it was Jungkook fucking the daylights out of his hot-as-fuck next door neighbor. It was also upsetting because his dick was suddenly awake and saying hello as if he had been called to attention.

But, nope, it was just Yoongi sitting alone glaring at the wall that separated him and giving the two of them a piece of his mind.

Or his meat.

He frowned and made a face. He didn’t have thoughts like that. No, not him, Min Yoongi. He was pure, he definitely did not have any naughty thoughts, nope, not a single o–

A particularly lustful moan of Jungkook’s name cut though his thoughts.

Was he sitting at the chair closest to the wall? Maybe. Well, he was. Could he just move to his kitchen and not hear anything? Yes. Was he going to move?

No.

What number was this anyway? Did Jungkook have the stamina of a horse or something? Not that Yoongi cared, mind you. He certainly did not. It was interesting to think about, that’s all. And then he heard something he thought he would never, ever hear.

“Oh, fuck, Yoooongi!”

Um, what? Did he hear that correctly? Yoongi sat up, raising an eyebrow at the wall. It must have been his imagination, surely, because the sound of skin on skin was not stopping. There was no way she had said the wrong name by accident, right? And Jungkook wouldn’t just let her blurt some other guy’s name out for no reason, right?

He glared at the wall suspiciously, as if it could answer.

Eventually the sounds died down, which was a relief. Hours went by and all Yoongi could think about was her saying his name. There was no way she accidentally said his name while getting fucked by Jungkook. Making that kind of mistake was unforgivable. He ended up ordering take out because to be honest he couldn’t really concentrate on cooking. Yoongi frowned as his doorbell pinged, walking to the door automatically. He must have manifested his thoughts or something like that. He placed his hand on the knob and opened it. It was his imagination, surely–

“Hey, did you order delivery? The person accidentally dropped it off at our door.”

Yoongi almost fell over.

His next-door neighbor blinked at him as he struggled to find his words. She was wearing a big baggy white t-shirt that clung to her body. No pants. The bag was in front of her chest. He could barely see the light pink of her panties.

“Ah, it wasn’t the other door. Is it his?”

Jungkook bounded over, black hair messy, his doe-like eyes wide with curiosity. Grey t-shirt, gray sweatpants. Tattoos going up his right arm. Yoongi nearly had a heart attack seeing his muscular arms.

“Uh, ah–yes, it’s mine, sorry–”

She smiled and held it out to him.

“Here you go.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his head – she wasn’t wearing a bra, holy shit – and he nearly dropped the bag if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s quick reflexes placing his hand at the bottom of the bag.

“Whoa, careful there.”

Thankfully his arm was now blocking her tits so Yoongi snatched the bag and bowed profusely, mumbling apologies.

“Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said brightly. “Enjoy your meal.”

She waved and Yoongi finally looked up, seeing her body turned away from him. Oh, whew. Then he looked up to their faces.

And found both of them smirking at him before they went back into her apartment.

“They’re fucking with me, Hoseok!”

“Calm down, hyung. I think you’re thinking about it too much.”

That’s what his best friend Jung Hoseok told him over dinner. Yoongi was having none of it.

“How can I be over-thinking it when they’re smirking at me at my front door?”

Hoseok winced. “I don’t know, maybe you imagined it. Why would your next-door neighbor and her boyfriend do something like that?”

“I don’t know, it’s not bad, it’s just–”

“Wait, you like it?”

“… I didn’t–”

Hoseok had burst out laughing like a lunatic.

The laughter rang in Yoongi’s ears as he stood at his front door, silently fuming. He shouldn’t have told Hoseok. But who was he supposed to tell? He wasn’t that close with many of his friends, after all. And Hoseok didn’t end up being mean about it in the end. Yoongi rubbed his forehead, shoving his hair under his black cap. Ah, it was probably just an empty hope after all. He was over-thinking it. Only an absolute loon would think that his next-door neighbor and her boyfriend wanted to have a threesome with him.

“Yoongi?”

He jumped, jerking away from his door suddenly. She stared at him, lip quivering, a worried look on her face. Cropped pink sweatshirt and leggings. Whew, at least she was clothed.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Is this a bad time?”

“I wasn’t scared,” he said automatically. “Only surprised.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, what was it?”

“Oh, I just…” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, fluffing her hair. Fuck. Stop being cute. “I don’t mean to pry, but I haven’t seen you walk Holly lately. I was wondering if he was okay?”

Oh. Right. His dog. “Ah, Holly is with my brother right now. He’s fine. We sort of have shared custody of him since we all grew up together,” Yoongi added with an awkward smile. Ack. Social skills, what even are they?

“Oh, that’s a relief!” She placed a hand on her chest and smiled. “I’m sorry if I was being too nosy.”

He waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Who wouldn’t notice? You always looked so happy walking him.” He was pretty sure his heart was going to burst if she kept smiling at him like that. “You’re so cute when you smile.”

“Ah…” Hang on, what? His cheeks began to warm.

“You must love dogs.”

Right. His dog. He chuckled. “I don’t usually, but somehow Holly made his way into my heart.”

She looked rueful. “I’m jealous of him.”

What?

“It must be difficult to win your heart.”

Was she… flirting with him?

She smiled innocently at him but those eyes were giving him a different story. The mischievous sparkle made his response die in his throat. He stared at her for a good minute.

“What… about Jungkook?”

“What about me?”

Yoongi felt his entire body freeze. He was caught. Shit, shit, shit.

Jungkook brushed past him ever-so-slightly, hand lingering on Yoongi’s jacket-covered arm before he hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead. She smiled up at him. Jungkook grinned at her and turned back to Yoongi with a bright bunny-like smile.

“Hey.”

Yoongi looked away quickly, realizing he was observing much too closely. “Er, hello.”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

He swallowed and looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Her lips curved into a sly smile.

“If you’re ever feeling up to it, we would love you to come over sometime.”

Jungkook grinned. “Any time!”

Oh, fuck. Jungkook’s hands were on her waist, sliding down slowly. Tongue in his teeth as she leaned against his chest with that foxy smile. Yoongi opened his mouth, but the only sound he made was an awkward croak. He coughed and looked away.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Yoongi hastily fumbled with the door lock and ran into his apartment, praying that neither of them could see his blushing face and his massive hard-on.

“They said you could come over any time. You are not crazy. You are just being nice.”

Yoongi stood in front of his next door-neighbor’s door like a zombie, clutching one bottle of red wine and a bottle of whiskey for dear life. He had contemplated his outfit three times before deciding that a long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans, and ripped gray denim jacket was not trying too hard. But just to be sure, he wore his nicer black boxer briefs and not the ones with holes in them.

Just…

In case.

“They don’t want to fuck you. They’re being nice.”

The door suddenly opened.

Yoongi’s eyes went wide. He sputtered. “A-ah!”

Oh my god.

Was it even possible for a woman to be this pretty? Decked in a floaty, red dress with a delicate bow around her neck and fluffy white slippers, his next-door neighbor seemed surprised to see him. The fabric floated down and clung to her curves, dipping inward in between her legs. Her eyebrows raised in surprise and her plump lips curved into a small ‘o’.

“Yoongi! I wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes! Jungkook told me he just arrived.”

“I’m here, darling.”

Jungkook’s deep voice purred behind Yoongi. The older man nearly jumped and turned to see Jungkook right behind him – how long had he been there? Black t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black sneakers. Jungkook’s lips curved into a mischievous smile and he leaned over Yoongi, his chest brushing against Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi felt his heartbeat skyrocket at the sudden closeness until he realized Jungkook was kissing his girlfriend on the forehead, patting her head gently.

“Fancy for a just watching a movie,” Jungkook teased. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I just bought this dress! I can wear whatever I want.”

“Yes, you can, and you look cute in it too.”

Yoongi would have been paying attention except he suddenly felt Jungkook’s hand against his back, sliding slightly downwards. He froze, breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t that he was starved for intimacy or anything. Okay, maybe he was a little bit, but, shit, what was he supposed to do with two very obviously hot as fuck people were seducing him? Ignore it?

No, he most certainly was not.

Yoongi stumbled, nerves rattling him. He felt strong arms hold him straight.

“Oh, sorry, did you trip?” Jungkook asked, worry laced in his voice.

“Ack, where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

He felt Jungkook push him lightly. Yoongi swallowed and stepped inside the apartment, still clutching the two bottles of alcohol for dear life. He was afraid that if he let go, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from… uh. Things. Breathe deep, Min Yoongi. You are not fifteen.

“These… are for you.”

He held out the two bottles to her. She tilted her head as she read the labels, taking them from him. It took all of Yoongi’s power not to grab her tits.

“Oh, thank you! Look, Jungkook, he bought red wine, your favorite!”

Jungkook bounded past him excitedly and took the bottle from her. “Ah, yesss! All for me!”

Yoongi blinked. “You don’t drink?”

She tapped the whiskey bottle. “I do. Just not wine.”

Watching a movie? Yeah, right.

How was Yoongi supposed to watch anything at all? One look at Jungkook in his loose black t-shirt and, fuck, he was reminded the guy’s entire right arm was tattooed. Holy shit. And her? Wrapped so nicely in floaty red fabric with that bow around her neck. It meant the dress had a deep neckline and he could see the curve of her cleavage, the plushness of her breasts.

Fuck this movie. Yoongi literally had no idea what was on the screen at this point.

She leaned against Jungkook as he sipped his wine. Every so often, she poured herself a shot of whiskey and drank it. Like… what? Granted, it wasn’t very much, but he had never seen a woman just… do that. She would smile and settle back onto the couch, into the curve of Jungkook’s arm. His tattooed arm. Jungkook would then drape it around her again, fingertips almost touching her breast. All this, happening within ten inches of Yoongi, who was sitting on her right side.

He didn’t know what number he was on now. Yoongi wasn’t a lightweight but he couldn’t calm his nerves either. Nerves or growing lust?

Both.

Yoongi looked away and stared at the screen. He didn’t know what he was looking at. All he could think about was faceplanting into those tits and Jungkook’s hands all over him. Or her sitting on his face as Jungkook sucked him off. Or, her sitting on Jungkook’s face and him sucking Jungkook off–

“Yoongi.”

He nearly flung his glass in surprise but she reached over and took it from him. Her breasts brushed against his arm and Yoongi stiffened, trying to keep his face neutral.

“I think you need to slow down. Are you okay?” she said worriedly, placing the whiskey glass on the coffee table.

“No.” He shook his head quickly and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

Jungkook and her stared at him.

Yoongi raised a hand and took a deep breath. “Er… I am getting this feeling,” he said awkwardly.

She tilted her head. “Hm?”

“It’s nothing.”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no. If you’re not comfortable, then we understand. You should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

No, that’s not really what I want. I want to fuck, damnnit!

“Ah…” Yoongi swallowed at the sudden attention placed on him. “It’s not that.” He was a straightforward person. He didn’t know how to make it sound metaphorical or pretty. “You two have a very strong… presence.”

She frowned slightly. “Is that bad for you?”

“N-no. It’s, er… attractive.”

Oh shit. He said it.

“Ah, I meant–” Yoongi coughed, looking away quickly. “The other day… I thought I heard my name… But it must have been a mistake, right?” He laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say such–”

A softness pressed against him. Yoongi wasn’t wearing his jacket, only his long-sleeved white shirt. He froze. The softness slid up his arm. He could feel the weight of her body against him. His brain was turning into mush. Oh god, oh god, oh god…

“You heard me?” The words purred against his neck, hot and heavy.

He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Yoongi tried to collect his words, fumbling through them.

“N-not on purpose…”

“You want me to say your name again? So you can hear it in person?”

The weight lifted. Slowly, Yoongi turned his head. His eyes trailed up her legs, to the floaty red fabric, to her waist, then up her chest to her face. She smiled slyly at him. Strong hands, one tattooed, one not, slid up her sides, grasping the bottom ties that held the bow together. Jungkook’s mischievous face popped up from behind her head. Yoongi just stared at them, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like a surprised kitten.

The bow teased apart, slowly. Jungkook’s hands slid inside the fabric, pushing it away. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. Jungkook cupped her breasts gently, rubbing his palms over them. She was wearing heart shaped pasties to cover her nipples. Yoongi was aware that he could run right now. He could have just stood up and walked out and that weirdness would have been over. Except, well…

His hand lifted. Yoongi hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes.

She smirked and wrapped her fingers around his. His heart thumped loudly in his ribcage as she led him to her chest.

“You can take it off, if you want,” she said gently.

Yoongi swallowed as his fingertips touched her breast. Oh, so soft. He hooked a nail underneath the sticky material and pulled lightly. Nothing. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Little harder, Yoongi.”

His name was a soft purr. Yoongi bit his lower lip and yanked a little harder. It came off in his hand. He blinked rapidly in surprise, hoping he didn’t hurt her. His second thought was…

Holy shit, her nipple.

It was prominent, sticking straight out at him. It would have been visible through the fabric of the dress due to its size. Thinking about that was arousing him. Yoongi felt as if his whole face was heating up. He vaguely registered Jungkook peeling off the second one and dropping it on the coffee table. Now there were two – great math there, Yoongi, he scolded himself – and he sat like a statue, unable to comprehend that this was real.

Jungkook pushed her breasts together, trapping her nipples between his index and middle finger. He rolled them slowly. Yoongi watched in fascination as her eyes slid closed and her head tipped back, a breathy moan dripping from her lips. Jungkook squeezed and kneaded her breasts, nose buried in her neck as he inhaled deeply, murmuring her name. Her eyelids fluttered.

“A-ah… Yoongi…”

There was no wall blocking his view now. It was real.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. He was still too afraid to touch.

“Y-yes?”

Her hand came up and stroked his cheek softly. He leaned into her touch, hungry. Her thumb pressed against his lips.

“Wanna kiss you.”

He cursed his bad habit of chewing on his lips, but leaned forward delicately. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, who was watching him with amusement. He wanted to ask. Are you sure? Jungkook seemed to understand and he nodded, smile turning gentler at Yoongi’s nervousness.

His eyes found hers again. Her lips parted. She led him to her face, closing her eyes slowly as her lips touched his. So soft, so gentle. It wasn’t the kiss he expected from his daydreams. It was warm and calm, soothing his nerves. His hands came up to cup her cheeks as the kiss deepened, tongue dancing against tongue. Everything just felt so soft. So lovely.

He felt Jungkook take his hands and slide them down. Yoongi gasped into her mouth as his palms touched her nipples. She moaned at his touch, nipping at his lower lip as he squeezed them, rolling her nipples with his thumb. They were just the right measure of hardness and softness. Her hands found his jeans and she pulled him closer by the waist, his body against hers.

“Yoongi-ssi…”

It wasn’t her voice. It was Jungkook’s, leaning forward and pushing up his shirt, running his hands over his skin. Yoongi gasped, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It was so obvious that Jungkook was more muscular and stronger than he was. But she held him close, kissing his jaw and neck. Jungkook’s face came into view, small smile dancing on his lips.

“I can call you that, right? Even though you’re my hyung?”

At this point, Yoongi didn’t even remember what honorifics were. “Whatever you want,” he muttered breathlessly. Jungkook chuckled and leaned forward, placing his lips on his. Oh, yes. More passionate, intense. Yoongi felt himself moan into Jungkook’s mouth and the younger man sucked on his tongue, hands along his back, pressing him into her.

It took a moment to untangle slightly. Breathing hard, Yoongi found himself looking into two pairs of lustful eyes.

“What do you want to do, Yoongi?”

Seducing Min Yoongi hadn’t been easy. There had been moments where you wondered if you had gone too far, or if Jungkook had teased him a little too much. It had been a long, carefully laid out plan. In fact, Jungkook almost gave up in the middle at one point and tried to convince you that he should hump him to get the message across. It had been a little difficult. But it was all worth it.

Because now you two managed to get Yoongi in the bedroom, flat on his back, your pussy in his face and Jungkook’s mouth on his cock. And oh, fuck, his fucking tongue. It had taken some more fondling and kisses to make Yoongi say it.

“Could I… eat you out while Jungkook sucks me off? Is that too much or–”

You grinded your hips into Yoongi’s face, sucking in a breath as Jungkook’s head bobbed up and down on Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook naked was already enough to make you wet. His muscular back, that ass, his tattooed arm, and his forearms flexing as he held Yoongi’s hips down. Could he suck dick as well as you? No, but he had a pretty good idea considering you were excellent at it. Watching Yoongi’s cock slide in and out of his mouth was a delicious sight. Yoongi’s tongue lapping at your clit had you dripping into his mouth. Somehow, he had just the right amount of pressure and roughness as he stroked you to climax, nails digging into your thighs.

You moaned in satisfaction, panting Yoongi’s name. Jungkook’s brown eyes flickered up to you and he made a muffled noise as he witnessed you playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling on them lightly. You saw his hips jerk, humping the bed. You grinned. Teasing Jungkook was fun.

Yoongi tapped your leg and you got up, concerned. But he was clutching the sheets, gasping, head thrown back as he groaned, shoving his crotch into Jungkook’s face. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gripped Yoongi’s hips, swallowing nosily as Yoongi’s entire body shuddered.

“F-fuck!”

You smiled as Jungkook sucked him dry, slowly rubbing his tongue around Yoongi’s cock as he cleaned him up. Yoongi did not seem like he was expecting this at all and moaned loudly, probably a little too loud. Jungkook dipping his head slowly, down, down, until the sensitive head hit the back of his throat. Yoongi’s face scrunched up, slipping into a moan as Jungkook slowly pulled back, Yoongi’s cock popping out of his lips.

Jungkook grinned. “Did I do good?”

You smiled. “Of course, my love.”

Yoongi squinted at him. “How the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

Jungkook pointed to you. “From the best.”

You smiled and Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Can I try something?” Jungkook asked, tugging on your arm.

You nodded. “What is it?”

Jungkook pulled you to him and kissed you, smiling against your lips. He readjusted you to be on top of Yoongi, your back to his chest. Yoongi made a disgruntled noise, but you rubbed your ass against his still sensitive cock, making him gasp. His hands wrapped around you. Yoongi had pretty hands, the kind of hands that made you pause the first time you saw him, the kind of hands you dreamed about touching you, the kind of hands that made your body melt. You were a bit disappointed that you couldn’t see Yoongi’s handsome face in his position but Jungkook was lifting your legs now, setting them on his shoulders. The condom was already on.

Jungkook smirked.

Was this man really going to expose your favorite position right now?

“Jung–fuuuuuck!”

His cock slid into you, slow and deep and hard. You yelped, feeling Yoongi grab your breasts and knead them. You liked this position for several reasons – one, Jungkook had you basically trapped under his body, and, two, Jungkook had power and gravity on his side. Thus, he could fuck you hard and deep at the same time, absolutely ruining you. And watch your face while he was doing it.

“Jungkook, ah, so deep,” you moaned, leaning against Yoongi’s chest as he pinched your nipples. Your pussy clenched, squeezing Jungkook’s cock inside you.

“That’s how you like it,” he drawled, rolling his hips into you, making his cock throb. You whimpered, looking deep into Jungkook’s eyes. Yoongi pinched your nipples and you whined as Jungkook thrust into your leisurely, burying himself in your folds.

“Whose idea was it to scream Yoongi’s name while we were fucking, hm?” Jungkook teased, fucking with such force that your ass bounced against Yoongi’s dick each time. You could feel him getting hard as your ass rubbed against it.

“M-mine,” you reply, earning you a slightly harder pace.

“So naughty,” Jungkook purred, licking his lips. “You wanted Yoongi so bad, didn’t you, love?”

You could only moan as Jungkook began to fuck you harder. Yoongi’s cock was smearing pre-cum all over you. You tried to desperately rub your ass against his cock, feeling it throb underneath you. It wetly slapped your ass every time Jungkook bounced you up and down.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grunted, kissing your neck. “Fuck, you two are seriously not fair.”

“Yoongi, ah, Jungkook…”

Yoongi rolled your nipples against his fingers and pinched them. You cried out, pussy clenching as your orgasm hit you, so overflowed with stimulation that you could barely think. Jungkook gritted his teeth, maintaining his pace as they worked you up again, Yoongi’s fingers rolling your nipples and Jungkook fucking you deep. It was an absolute mess of your own cum dripping down and Yoongi’s pre-cum mixing with it. The head of Yoongi’s hard cock was rubbing against your ass. You could watch Jungkook thrusting in and out of you, shiny and glistening.

“Ah, fuuuuck!”

You moaned as you came again, thick juices gushing down and coating Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook shuddered at your pussy tightening around him. You felt Yoongi’s hips shudder as he sucked in a breath sharply, groaning at the sensitivity as he came on your ass and up your thigh, splattering onto Jungkook’s legs.

Jungkook grinned triumphantly before fucking you even harder. It didn’t take long before he hissed, cock jerking inside you as he came, your name dragged out in a long moan. His jaw clenched, hips thrusting a little to get the last drops out of his softening cock.

After a moment, he pulled out, leaving you panting and sore in Yoongi’s arms. He got up to clean himself off, looking for a towel. Yoongi buried his face in your neck. You could feel his warm cheeks.

“Sorry about the bed,” he mumbled.

You reached back and petted his hair, breathing his name. You rubbed your ass against him and Yoongi stiffened. It made you grin.

“Stay the night, Yoongi.”

He nuzzled your hair even though he grumbled a bit.

“F-fine.”

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut

680 notes · View notes

nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years ago

Text

The Chick with the Red Magic (W.M.)

Warnings: None? Maybe some swearing?

Word Count: 1.4k

It’s a typical New York night. The old apartment buildings tower over you, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air from where an old man is perched on his fire escape. There aren’t many people around, and those who do dare to wander the streets this late, stick to themselves. You look up at the dark sky as you walk, and you can’t help but wish that the stars were visible through the city pollution.

It had been a long day. First, you had several hours of classes. You were in your third year of college at NYU, working toward your degree in criminal justice. The plan was to become a detective here in New York. Hey, it might not have been a very detailed plan, but at least you had one. After classes, you went to the gym with your friend, Henry, from school. Then you had an 8-hour shift as an EMT. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement.

You pass a particularly dark alley as you near your favorite coffee shop一 not that they were open this late at night. After you’ve passed the alley, you hear some strange sounds coming from it. Muffled grunts and low thuds fill the thick air. You follow your gut as you quietly ditch your bag on the ground and creep into the alley. You spot a brunette surrounded by four men. You fail to notice the red tendrils floating through the air around them. One man notices you and when he comes for you, you knock him unconscious with a hard punch to the jaw. Your face scrunches up in pain as you grab your wrist and shake your hand一 that always hurts a lot less in training. The other three men are thrown against the brick wall by the red hue, which you finally take notice of, and you instinctively take a step back. The mysterious woman’s eyes snap to yours as she finally notices your presence. You hold her gaze and fight the urge to hightail it out of there.

“Who are you? What was that?” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel.

“Um, I一 you don’t recognize me?” She steps closer and you shake your head with furrowed eyebrows, confused at her question.

“Should I?” “I- I guess not. I’m Wanda. I swear you’re safe. What you just saw... well, I can’t really explain it. But I’m with the good guys, I promise.”

“Yeah, right, okay. Would you even know if you were a bad guy?” You did your best to sound skeptical, but in all honesty, this woman had somehow already gained your trust. Maybe you wouldn’t make such a great detective, after all.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Well, thank you for the help, Y/N.”

“Yeah...I’m pretty sure you didn’t need it,” you deadpan, gesturing to the pile of unconscious bodies further down the alley.

“You should probably go now before my boss gets here, unless you wanna end up in questioning and debriefing all night.”

‘Questioning? Debriefing? I know damn well this girl ain’t a cop’ you think to yourself.

“This is all very mysterious, Wanda, you know that?”

She breathed out a laugh. “I’m aware.”

“Will I see you again? I’d like to solve the mystery, if you’ll give me a chance.” You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but something about her thick accent and her kind green eyes makes you want to talk to her for hours.

“What’s your full name?”

“Um, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Then, yes. I will find you again, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Okay, now I’m concerned for my safety.”

A wide grin spread across her lips as she said, “No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I probably should be. Uh, goodnight, Wanda.”

“Goodnight.”

Three loud knocks disrupt the peaceful silence that had previously settled in your apartment. You set down the textbook in your hands and rise from the couch. You pull the door open, confused when you see a beautiful redhead standing on the other side. Her face displays no emotion and she scans your figure from head to toe. You tilt your head in a questioning manner, debating whether you were about to get stabbed or converted.

“Um, can I help you? Are you alright,” you ask her, cautious of why a random woman would show up at your door.

“So you seriously don’t know who I am? Or Wanda,” she asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, I一 what? You know Wanda?”

“You know who the Avengers are?”

You nod your head in affirmation. “Yeah. Team of superheroes. Everyone knows about them,” you reply plainly. You had nothing against them, you just didn’t really care. Why is this lady asking about the Avengers? You should definitely reconsider becoming a detective.

“I take it you’ve never paid much attention to them?”

“Not really. What does this have to do with Wanda? Who are you?”

“I’m Natasha. Wanda and I are Avengers.”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds. “Bullshit.” She nods her head with a small smirk on her face. “Huh,” you say, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Mhm. I came here to scope you out, see if you’d be a threat to Wanda, but you seem entirely harmless, so here’s her number,” she said, handing you a slip of paper.

“Um, thanks, I一 wait, I’m not harmless! I can be very harmful! When I wanna be…”

“Yeah, sure. She told me all about the punch. Very harmful,” she teased before patting your upper arm and walking away down the hall.

You barely wasted ten minutes before calling Wanda.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Wanda. Or should I call you ‘My Great Avenger’,” you tease over the phone.

“Oh, God, please don’t. It’s good to hear from you Y/N.”

“It’s good to hear from you, too. I was beginning to worry that I had been hallucinating. So you really sent your friend to make sure I was safe for you to be around?”

“Ugh, I didn’t ask her to do that. She insisted when I told her about what happened. I only wanted her to find you一”

“Oh, so you told your friends about me? I’m honored.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

“Well, I’m a junior at NYU, I work as an EMT, and, apparently, I’m very trusting because I ran into this chick with red magic the other day and I literally gave her my full name on the spot and everything,” you joke.

“That definitely wasn’t very safe thinking on your part. I’m glad that you blindly trusted some weird girl with powers, though. It probably made her night,” she says, playing along.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say she’s weird. Different, maybe, but normal is boring. And you should see her, she’s really pretty. She’s got the kindest eyes and the most amazing smile that could outshine the North Star.” She’s silent and you wish that you could see her face, hoping that maybe you’d put a smile on it. “Although her friend is kind of intimidating. I’m pretty sure she could kill me without batting an eye,” you continue.

“Yikes, not the scary best friend. You definitely don’t want to piss her off.”

“Definitely not. So, what do you think? Should I ask this girl out on a date?” “The chick with the red magic or her scary best friend?”

“The chick with the red magic, of course.”

“I think...you should. Maybe you could take her out this Friday?”

“Maybe to dinner? Something real casual, so I can get to know her outside of a stuck-up, annoying rich-people-restaurant?”

“I think she’d love that. Maybe you could pick her up at seven?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea. I can’t wait to see her.”

“She can’t wait, either.”

“Wait, just to be clear, you know I’m talking about you, right? Like, this was me asking you out? ‘Cause that would be awkward if you didn’t and I’m gonna need your address to pick you up-”

She cuts off your nervous rambling with a laugh and says, “Yes, I’m aware. I’ll text you the address in a bit. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Right, cool. Bye, Wanda.” You hang up the phone with a huge smile and jump around in a celebratory dance, already planning Friday’s date.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader

146 notes · View notes

systlinsideblog · 3 years ago

Text

Part 7

The fall of the great walled city of Turia came on a day shimmering with heat, but with storm clouds building on the horizion, looming heavy as they built into great mounds over the prairies. The air smelled of the promise of rain; that was good, Systlin thought. A good heavy rain later would wash the blood off the streets.

Turia’s towers glittered white in the sun. The walls were high and proud and in excellent repair; the warriors manning the top of it were said to be skilled. Everyone she’d spoken to had told her the same; Turia was home to a million and a half people. Turia was the jewel of the prairies, the Ar of the South. Turia was home to marvelous markets and one could find any luxury one wished there. The people of Turia were grand and wealthy and proud, and though they loved luxury their fighting men were excellent.

Its walls were high and thick. Its wells were deep and never ran dry. There were food stores to outlast the greatest of sieges. The nine gates were thick and strong and guarded zealously; while attackers died at the walls, the people of Turia would relax in their bath houses and dine on delicacies and laugh.

Turia was splendid. Turia was rich. Turia had been sieged many times, but never once had Turia fallen.

Systlin rolled her neck and shoulders, cracking any tension out.

She remembered Myr. Turia reminded her strongly of it. Myr too had been rich, and strong, and undefeated. Myr as well had thought itself safe behind tall, thick walls and strong gates, guarded by skilled fighters. Myr as well had laughed at the army camped on the plains before it. The walls of Myr had famously been bound in Power, power laid so deeply and thickly by generation after generation of Myrish earth witches that there had been more power than stone to the walls. Breakers before her, born to the desert, had tested those walls. Breakers before her had exhausted themselves against them and failed and died.

She had tried herself against them anyway. She had not failed. There was a hundred foot gap in the walls of Myr now, named for her. “The Mitraka’s Gate,” they called it. The legend of how she’d brought down the famously unbreakable walls of Myr had spread north to the Skyfire reaches and south to Sielauk before she’d even left the deserts.

Turia’s walls were not as high or thick as Myr’s, and they were not spelled for protection. Against a Breaker of the least power they’d be useless, and Systlin was the strongest Breaker ever to live. She eyed the warriors on top of them, still out of bowshot, and for a moment felt a flash of pity for them.

It was gone quickly. She wondered how many of those proud men had women chained to their beds. A million and a half people, but that number did not, she knew, count slaves. Counting slaves, it was said that the number was at least twice that, and likely higher.

Foicatch was watching her. He had not been at Myr when it fell, but he had been there since. He’d ridden through the Mitraka’s Gate. He knew, of course, that she was remembering.

“Been a bit,” He said at last, as they waited for Myr to send out its famous tharlarion cavalry, and honestly though she found herself growing fond of the kaiila the Wagon Peoples rode and could admit that the vicious reptilian tharlarion were impressive, she wished she had a good, normal horse. “Since we had a real battle before us.”

“Hmmm.” She agreed. The last time, indeed, they’d been fighting a mad god and his creatures. She’d killed a god, in that battle. Killed one god and threatened another. “Do try not to die. I’d hate to have to find a new royal consort.”

A snort. “I’ve no intention of dying today. I want to see you on the throne of that city.” A pause. “I’ve always had rather a fantasy, actually, of you on the throne of freshly conquered city, and me on my knees…”

Oh. Well. That did sound interesting. She gave him an appraising look. “Have you? You could have said something.”

“Well. It’s always been so busy when we’re breaching a stronghold, and things were all happening so fast at the time. You were so intent; I wasn’t sure you’d take it well.” A shrug. “Early days of us and all. By the time I knew better, you had the North in line again, and when we fought the Fallen One there weren’t many strongholds to breach or thrones to make use of.”

That was fair. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She said thoughtfully, even as the great gates ground slowly open and ranks of fighting men on those two-legged sharp-toothed reptilian beasts began to file out. She eyed the gleaming lances they carried disapprovingly; those were, of course, going to be the first thing she did away with once things got going.

Using her power in pitched battles was risky; she did not like doing it to kill. Not more than needed. But shattering some lances was no issue at all.

He grinned, that familiar and beloved flash of white teeth against that dark beard. “Oh, excellent.” He shot the enemy cavalry a look, and then looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. She nodded once. He leaned over, and she leaned to meet him; they exchanged a kiss, brief but sweet, and he peeled his kaiila away and headed to take command of the left flank.

She looked back over the prairie. There were several thousand riders now, forming ranks. A few men wearing particularly gleaming armor with extra gold leaf seemed to be conferring in a huddle; she waited.

“Ubara?” Dina said softly, from her side. “Ubara, should we…” There was nervousness in her voice.

“Not yet.” Systlin was the veteran of many battles of this scale; Myr was much larger than Turia, and that had been only the first city she’d taken. Dina was not. Even in a seasoned warrior, nerves before battle were normal, but Dina had taken up a spear only a year and a half past. She’d fought and killed, but the other tribes and towns and cities they’d taken were nothing on the scale of Turia. “They’ll send someone to talk, like all the others have. I’ll either kill him or send him back, like all the other times. I’ll break their lances; that will be the signal to charge.”

She looked to her side. Dina’s face was drawn tight. Systlin remembered that Dina, before slave chains, had once been a free woman, and had been born in Turia.

“You have a father, don’t you?” Systlin said, more softly.

“I do.” She whispered. “He never took a slave. He loved my mother, a Free Companion, and never took a slave; he has mourned her since her death. He is of the baker’s caste, as was my mother. He makes sweet rolls and gives them to children, and the best bread and pastries. I do not brag; he was famous in the city, and rich women and men came to buy from us. He and my brothers and I worked hard and were proud of our work.” She paused a moment. “I do not know if my brothers have taken slaves. And if they have…” Another, longer pause, and she looked away. “If they have, I will not beg mercy for them, but I will mourn what they might have been had their minds not been poisoned.”

Systlin thought of her own brother, dead so young. Of laughing and competing and playing with him, of the friendly fighting between close siblings. Of his smile and his laugh, and his sharp wit. She wondered, if her place and Dina’s had been switched, if she could have watched him killed for slaving and rape.

She probably could have. She knew it in the deepest place in her heart, where she worried sometimes at her own coldness. She probably would have done it with her own hands, at that. She’d executed her uncle and aunt with her own hands, in that battle to bring the warring lords tearing the North to bloody scraps to heel. But she was a famously hard and coldhearted bitch when it came to matters of justice, as any noble in the North of Ellinon would tell. “The Iron Bitch”, she knew they called her behind her back. “The Iron Bitch with the frozen heart.”

She’d have done it, yes. But she’d have mourned intensely after, for what might have been.

Dina was loyal and dear to her, a good friend. But if her brothers were rapists and slavers, Systlin knew that even if Dina begged, she would not grant mercy unless the offended girls asked it. It ran counter to everything in her to do so.

Goddess of Justice. The Lady’s voice whispered in her head.

Fuck off, she thought in return. I’ve shit to do.

“We can hope,” she said. “That they take after your father. And we’re not here to loot; if your father is in his shop and not with the fighting men, he’s quite safe.”

That seemed to ease Dina slightly. The woman was still used to the Gorean idea of war, where taking a city meant sacking it utterly, looting and burning and slaving. No army under Systlin’s command would ever fight so, though. She’d kill the soldiers responsible with her bare hands.

“Baker’s caste,” Dina said. “Do not fight, not unless they must. They will not be on the walls. Those on the walls and on the field here are warrior caste.”

Systlin would have to investigate this caste system more thoroughly. She did not like the idea on principle, but it seemed a force of social stability that most Goreans were very attached to. From what she’d gathered there were provisions for moving through castes if one wished. However, she’d heard that some, such as weavers and spinners, were considered ‘low caste’.

Systlin had attempted such tasks before; her mother was fond of spinning and weaving, though she was Queen Mother and needed never touch a spindle if she didn’t wish. After fifteen minutes spent at it, Systlin had come to the conclusion that the work that went into cloth was absurdly complicated and skilled, and had never touched a spindle since. She did, however, have a reputation for never haggling when it came to buying cloth or paying her seamstresses.

Low caste her arse. The idea of any of the most essential tasks…potters, farmers, fishermen, herders…being lower than any others raised her hackles. Perhaps the idea of low or high caste could go…

Across the grassland, a small party of men, led by one of the men in gleaming gold-chased armor began to ride towards them. Systlin put aside other concerns and nodded once to Dina, who nodded back and went to lead the right flank.

Her kaiila could sense that battle was coming, and shifted under her, tossing her head in eagerness. Systlin held her steady, and waited.

They headed, of course, for Foicatch. Systlin sighed and rolled her eyes, and nudged her kaiila forward. The creature sprang forward in that long, loping predator stride, and she headed them off in moments. They glared at her, all hostile intent. She regarded them in what was probably a dismissive manner, but so far as she was concerned these men were already dead. They were nothing that she had not seen on this world already, in the smaller towns that lay outside Turia. She’d killed a thousand like them since coming here.

“You know full well that I lead this army.” She said bluntly. “You’ve heard the stories.” She sighed. “It makes me curious…”

“Stories of trickery and nonsense about sorcery.” The man with the glittering armor said loftily. “A few villages might fall to some unnatural woman, but this is Turia. We will not be afraid of a tribe of women who think themselves the equals of men.”

“…As I was saying,” Systlin raised her voice slightly. “It makes me curious as to the full degree which you, meaning men on this world, are capable of deluding yourselves. I’ve been halfway through conquering towns and tribes and the men would still be telling me that I couldn’t hope to carry through, because I was but a woman.” She shook her head. “Almost sad, really. I’ve an army of twenty five thousand camped before your gates. I know you have heard the stories of how I’ve conquered cities across the prairies and brought all the tribes of the Wagon People under my rule. I am Ubara-Sana of the plains, by my own hand, and I’ve crushed every force sent against me. And yet here you are, still claiming the same old tired thing.”

She looked him in the eyes. “This is the part where, if you are smart, you will confer with your people and you will open the gates, lay down your arms, and have a chance to survive this.”

He scoffed. Entirely predictably. “This is Turia, woman. The plainsfolk may not have been able to humble you, but Turia will. We’ve ten thousand cavalry, and that is not counting the fighting men on foot. You and your slave girls with swords can batter yourselves to ribbons against us, and we’ll put collars on those of you not killed.” A slow, lewd smile, because apparently he felt he hadn’t dug his own grave deep enough. “Maybe I’ll put mine on you, woman, and teach you to obey a master’s word.”

“Well.” Systlin shrugged. “I did give you a chance.”

She’d learned knife throwing from Stellead, but the Arms Master of the Bloodguard had been dubious of its effectiveness and the instruction had only been basic. It was at the Iron Mountain, under the tutelage of the master assassins of the Master of Knives, that she’d learned how to properly throw a knife.

She’d killed the Master of Knives, of course. He’d taken the contract on her father, and sent out one of his Shadow Hands to kill a king. She’d killed the Brother of Shadow who’d wielded the knife, as well, and many others besides. The Iron Mountain stood empty now, the bones of those she’d killed gathering dust in the halls.

Her knife took the golden-armored warrior through the eye. He looked quite shocked as he slid from the saddle and fell. His men started in rage, and went for their lances.

Systlin smiled at them. Her power rose, a cold sweep through her bones, tingling under her skin. She raised her hand, and flicked her fingers negligently at them, mostly for show.

Their lances shattered into splinters. So did at least five thousand other lances of the leading ranks of the famed thalarion cavalry of Turia.

A great confused sound went up, and thalarion shied at the strange scent of Power in the air, sharp as ozone. And as fighting men scrambled for their secondary weapons, Systlin’s forces charged.

Ice took the first man before her just under the chin. She didn’t quite behead him as her coal-black kaiila shot past, but slashed the big artery on his neck open. Blood pumped, and the sound he made as he fell was a terrible gurgle.

She wheeled her mount and ducked the frantic sweep of a sword. The riders were startled, off balance, and that was death when facing a warrior of her caliber. Her kaiila darted in and took the throat of one of the slower High Thalarions, tearing it open. The beast went down, and its rider with it. Systlin kneed the sides of her kaiila and it leapt; the final warrior managed to parry her first blow, a slicing cut at his neck.

She twisted her wrist, reversed the grip on Ice’s hilt with a little twist and clever movement of her fingers that Stellead had made her practice ten thousand times, and drove it into his chest under his ribs. Drew it back with a sharp jerk as she wheeled her kaiila again, and flipped it back around in her hand. She did not have to think about the motion; she had not missed the catch on the twist since she had been a child training under Arms Master Stellead.

Then her kaiila was running, and she pushed it hard for a few paces until she regained her place leading the center. Lances glittered to either side of her, and she felt a fierce pride in the women she’d trained.

She eyed the gates of Turia, behind the regrouping lines of thalarion cavalry. Arrows arched from behind, as her mounted archers began picking off the front ranks of the Turian forces as they came into range.

Arrows returned, from on top of the walls, and one bounced off of her wraithen-scale armor. She lashed out with her power, still simmering under her skin, and five hundred bows shattered. Cries of dismay went up a second time.

She eyed the great gates of Turia, even as her kaiila gathered itself to leap and the first of her lance-fighters neared the front lines of the Turian cavalry. She eyed them for a half a second before she hit the front lines of the Turians, and she Broke them.

The great gates of Turia, and fifty feet of the wall to either side, crumbled into splinters and sand. There was a great cry of horror and dismay from the city, and cries of “UBARA! UBARA!” from her own warriors, delighted.

And then her front line was smashing into the Turian cavalry, and there was no more time for thought.

The Turians were skilled, but they were off balance, had lost the advantage of their long lances, and had not truly been expecting a proper fight. Systlin and her best lancers hit them like a hammer, and pierced deep into the ranks before the Turians quite knew it was happening. The Turians were down to swords now, and only a few of the rear ranks still had lances. Systlin’s riders had long lances with reach, and their kaiila were faster and more nimble than the high thalarion the Turians rode.

And, of course, they had her.

Systlin was no stranger to mounted combat. She’d ridden with the tribes of the desert at Sura’s side for years, and was as deft a hand at mounted combat as any Rider. She’d never have been accepted, otherwise.

It felt, she had to admit, as she turned a sword aside with Ice and flicked the sword around, down, and up, taking off the man’s sword hand at the wrist, very good to be at it again. The man screamed, but she was past him. A lance glanced off of her armor, and she wheeled her kaiila. The beast snapped, catching a leg, and tore the man off of his mount. His thalarion turned and went for her mount, but her kaiila shook its head and was leaping away before it could do any damage.

Systlin fought with all the skill and speed and cunning she had. She fought viciously, the whole time willing that her army would not fail now, would not quail because this battle was larger and closer-fought than any before. She willed it, imagining that she could throw wide her arms and take under her shadow all of her proud free mounted warriors, and through sheer will alone keep them fighting.

And she did what she had always done, in battle. She led on the front line, and fought like nothing the Turians had ever seen before. Men rose before her and men fell; she was past Power now, and killed with pure hard-won skill and naked steel. She cut faces, necks, torsos, limbs. Ice’s blue-tinged blade was purple with blood, and blood spattered her all over. She killed, and killed, with all the skill of those long hours of training and decades more of fighting for her life. She fought, and killed, her blood sang with it.

You were never made for peace. The Lady’s words. It was true; she knew it was true. She loved battle, though she knew it spoke of her basically coldhearted and vicious nature that she did. She was a warrior born and trained and blooded, and she was at home on the killing field.

She’d fought three wars, leading from the front. She’d won each, and the sight of her at the forefront of her warriors, in her element, bloody and screaming and bringing death with her, was absolute horror to the men of Gor.

The sight that horrified the men of Turia stiffened the spines of her warriors, and to the endless horror of the men of Turia, the former slave girls, now screaming warriors with lances and swords, cut into them with a fury they’d never seen.

With her at their front, her mounted warriors smashed the Turian lines apart, just as the left flank led by Foicatch drove hard at the gap left at the rear, pushing the cavalry of Turia away from the broken gates and cutting them off from retreat into the city. Foicatch himself set himself in the middle of the smashed gate, and Systlin caught glimpses of him engaged in fierce close fighting now and then as foot soldiers pressed forward from the city to try and relieve the cavalry she was driving like a herd of sheep across the prairies before Turia.

But the fighting men of Turia were skilled, and proud, and they began to regroup. Men were shouting orders, and the remaining lances managed to form up defensive lines. The fighting grew vicious, even after Systlin Broke more lances, and their advance ground to a crawl. Their armies were nearly matched; Systlin’s warrior women had better armor and better reach, but the Turian fighting men had more experience, and it began to show as they got their feet under them. Systlin’s troops fought like mad wildcats, and she was so proud; they were still winning forward, inch by inch, but she was not about to spend more lives than she had to.

The Turians began to press back, and her advance ground to a halt. Systlin smiled, because she heard the galloping of the kaiila, and knew.

Dina’s mounted archers swept past, and the women turned on their kaiilas with those short but powerful recurve bows of wood and bosk horn. Strings slid from thumb rings, and three thousand arrows hammered home through that light leather armor that the men of this world favored. The kaiilas wheeled, and the women turned again, as they’d practiced a thousand times, sitting backwards on their mounts. Strings sang again, and arrows flew as thick as rain.

Turians died. Systlin yelled and plunged forward again, and to shouts of “UBARA! UBARA! WHIP-BURNER! CHAIN-STRIKER!” her warriors followed.

The Turians had nowhere to retreat from Dina’s archers, except back onto the lances of Systlin’s mounted spear-women. No rescue came from Turia; Foicatch was stacking the bodies of fighting men four deep in the ruin of the shattered gates.

The fighting outside the city drug out a big longer; it took time to slaughter ten thousand cavalry and their mounts. But caught between Dina’s wheeling mounted archers and their storm of arrows and the lances of Systlin’s cavalry and Systlin’s own sword, they were cut to bits.

It was then that Systlin regrouped her lancers and led them to the shattered gates, where the foot soldiers of Turia were approaching more cautiously than before. The shattered gates themselves were a charnel house; fighting men and women both lay dead alongside wounded and dead and shrieking kaiila, and blood was red over the stones of the road and the rubble of the gates and walls. Foicatch and his warriors held, and the fighting men of Turia seemed reluctant to approach within reach of Foicatch’s sword.

They parted to let Systlin through, and her lancers flowed around to guard the sides of the ranks of warriors.

Systlin joined Foicatch at the front lines. She must look a terrible sight; she was head to toe blood and mud, the colors of her wraithen armor dulled under the coating. Foicatch’s own set of wraithen scale armor was similarly filthy. There was a cut high on his temple, a glancing blow that was not serious but bleeding freely. Even as she joined him she felt a trickle of Power as he flicked droplets of blood away from his eyes.

A lull in the fighting; the soldiers of Turia drew back, appalled at the sight. Foicatch eyed her, gaze flicking head to toe to check her for injuries. She gave him a slight reassuring shake of her head, doing the same to him. The cut on his temple seemed to be the worst of it. She turned to eye the soldiers before them.

“Your cavalry,” Systlin informed the fighting men before them. “Are dead. My throat slitters are making short work of any survivors this very moment. You did not hear the offer I made before, I think, so I will make it one more time. Lay your weapons down now, and you may find mercy. I will not give you another chance.”

Not one fighting man moved, save for the one who yelled in defiance, pulled a knife from his boot, and hurled it at her head.

It was a good throw, she thought, as she twisted her head to the side even as his hand swept up with the blade. It was a good throw. Had she not been taught by Stellead and the Shadow Hands of the Iron Mountain, it might have struck home. As it was, it simply scraped her cheekbone in passing; a shallow cut that would heal quickly and cleanly.

Answer enough, she supposed. Foicatch was already moving, and fell on the knife-thrower with a single-minded viciousness that was poetry to see. Systlin was moving almost as quickly, and that was where the battle in the city began.

It was nasty work. Street by street, driving the fighting men before them. Many of the freed slaves in Systlin’s forces had been from Turia, and as planned they now took the lead. As Systlin had suspected, their knowledge of the city was invaluable; meeting places and baths where warriors gathered were found out. Attacks from small alleys were anticipated. Cobbles went slick with blood. A nasty dagger opened a long cut into Systlin’s left forearm, and some of the slick blood under their boots and the kaiila’s paws was her own. She bound it with a strip torn from her own shirt, cinching the knot tight with her teeth, and pressed on.

Turia was a city of millions; it took hours to work their way through, even with the size of her army. It was late afternoon when at last she realized that any warriors found out were fleeing rather than fighting, and being quickly ridden down by archers. Systlin stopped, at last, sitting high on her kaiila, and knew that she was Ubara of Turia, and by extension all of the plains in truth, by right of conquest.

Dina was staying close now, guiding them through the streets. She saw the same realization dawn on Dina’s face; Foicatch was already smiling that grim satisfied smile she remembered well.

“Take me to the throne of Turia.” Systlin said, and Dina did.

The first drops of the storm hit the bloody dust and thunder growled low when the reached the great palace of Turia. It was in a vast central building, half law chambers and half a throne hall. It was all in the same white stone that the city seemed to favor, with a great dome over the hall where the Thrones of Turia sat. They were very fine; there was, Systlin was sure, wood somewhere under the silver and inlaid semiprecious stones, but it was difficult to make out. She left footprints of blood and mud across the spotless tiled floors.

She’d made instructions clear before the first spear was lifted; her warriors knew what to do. One part of being a leader, her father had said long ago. Is finding competent people that you trust, and then trusting them to do their jobs without your having to hang over their shoulder.

He’d been right. Her people were competent, and she did trust them. So while she waited for her warriors to ferret out the various guild and caste leaders and other important persons, Systlin ascended the nine steps to the dais…it was gorgeously carpeted, and inlaid with ivory and gold…and sat herself down in the larger throne, the throne of the Ubar of Turia.

Foicatch eyed her. There was an answering warm pulse that went down her spine and pooled insistently between her legs; there was nothing like battle to get the blood up. But…She raised her eyebrows back at him. “Not yet.” She said, somewhat reluctantly, and motioned with her chin at the smaller throne, the throne where traditionally the Ubara sat. “Not quite yet. It’s not properly conquered until I explain things to the important people, is it?”

“I suppose not.” But his eyes were lingering on her lips, and slid down over the length of her legs and the curve of her hip even so. She could feel the heat of it, and dearly wished to answer it.

But it was about at that point that people…some of them bedraggled, some begging and pleading, some silent and apparently numbly shocked into silence, all led by her fierce and triumphant warrior women, began to file into the great throne chamber. All were drenched; Systlin could hear rain rattling against the roof now, and thunder rumbling quite often.

They stared. Systlin knew what she must look like. She sat, and waited. Her shoulder ached; she’d been slammed into a wall at one point, and probably had a spectacular bruise. Her arm where she’d been cut stung. Her muscles burned from exertion; she’d been fighting on and off for hours. The cut on her cheek had scabbed, and pulled when she moved or spoke.

None of it mattered. Victory was pounding in her veins along the adrenaline. Even now, she knew, her warriors were removing chains from slaves; she could taste it on the air, and it was as sweet as honeyed wine.

Goddess of justice and war.

She ignored the voice of the Lady whispering.

Dina was conferring with the other women native to Turia. They looked fearsome; all were armored and armed and bloody. Most of the blood, to Systlin’s immense pride, was not their own. They had wounds, true, but most were not serious, and every warrior will earn scars. They were standing and moving and speaking with a new edge of confidence that had not been there even this morning, and Systlin knew why.

Stories would be told of this, she knew. Stories would be told, and the warriors who’d fought with her to take Turia would be legend in their own right. And they knew it as well; had proved something to themselves that could never be taken away.

Yes, these warrior women would say, years from now. Yes, of course I know of the Fall of Turia. I was there. I fought at the Ubara’s side. There would be looks then, as awed as any Systlin herself had ever received, and she knew in her bones how the legends would be told in decades to come.

Dina of Turia, who led the Ubara’s archers and broke the Turian cavalry with the Ubara.

Sabra of Turia, the first of all who had her chains struck off, who rode with her lance at the Ubara’s side, in her honor guard, and who fought so fiercely that none could stand before her. Never in the battle for the city did she leave the Ubara’s side, and she walked through blood ankle-deep that day.

Hula of Turia, Doreen of Turia, Hireena of the Tuchuks. Tamra of Ar…

The list went on and on, and pride was a bright warmth in her chest.

Dina said something to Sabra, who nodded and turned to cross the hall and climb the steps. Systlin remembered that first day; Sabra clutching, terrified, at her sleeve. There was little trace of the frightened and beaten slave girl now; Sabra was one of her best with a spear, and she wore thick bosk-hide armor sewn with metal plates. Her arms and shoulders were strong, and her blonde hair braided tightly back. There was blood and mud crusted in it, and a vicious bruise showing around one eye. Her nose had been broken at some point, and hastily reset,. The dried blood from it was still on her chin. She was smiling a smile of victory.

“Ubara sana.” She said. “The guild leaders, councilors, and other important leaders of the city are assembled.”

“Thank you, Sabra.” Systlin smiled back, just as fierce. “And well fought. Fierce as a she-panther.”

The grin widened. “Thank you, Ubara-sana!”

“I told you,” Systlin said, still smiling. “You doubted me, but here you stand. When I secure the treasury, you are to take as much as you can carry, as a mark of my esteem. I name you now to my personal guard, for as long as you desire the post, but you must promise to tell me if you ever wish to leave. You were the first to have her chains thrown off, and I’ve no wish to ever bind you with others.”

Sabra blinked rapidly, and Systlin realized that she was blinking back tears. “I will, Ubara sana.” She said. “But I do not think that day will come.”

“Well. If it does, let me know. And I’ve another duty for you; you were the first to take up weapons, even before Dina. If you will, once things settle more in a few days, go among the women of Turia and tell them your story. And if any of them wish it, bring them to me, and help me train them as warriors, as you trained yourself.”

A light like fever lit in Sabra’s eyes. “Ubara sana,” she whispered. “You honor me, and I will do this.”

“You won your honor yourself, with your own hands and by your own actions.” Systlin said. “I merely handed you the tools to do so. Bring them all forward, then.”

Foicatch, she realized, was staring at her with an intensity that was scorching.

“You will never have any idea,” he breathed, very quietly, as her warriors herded the frightened rich and powerful of the city to the base of the raised dais the thrones sat upon, “the effect you have on people. What it’s like to see, from the outside.”

“Hush.” She murmured back, just as softly. “You’re biased.”

“I am. But I’m also right. Every woman in your forces would have followed you to the death this morning, but after this they’d follow you past it as well.”

“Hmm.” She allowed, but it was a pleased sound. “I try only to be what they deserve.”

“Yes.” He said. “Yes, and that’s why.”

She eyed the small crowd at the foot of the dais. They were frightened and soaked from the storm, bedraggled and sullen.

“Foicatch, darling.” She said. “Our guests appear to be soaked. Could you give them a hand?”

He made an agreeable sound and lifted a hand. She tasted Power on the back of her tounge, ozone and burnt cinnamon.

There were gasps and screams as the water streamed and spiraled off of the huddled leaders of Turia. Foicatch pulled it into a hovering globe above his hand, and then rather negligently flicked it aside. It splashed to the tiles, leaving the people in the crowd quite dry.

Dina clicked her tounge against her teeth. “Are you all sorcerers, on your world?” A year and a half of following Systlin, one of the strongest fire witches and the strongest Breaker ever to live, had rubbed the novelty off of seeing Power worked.

“Not all of us.” Systlin lifted a shoulder. “But a good many.”

“My mother’s a stronger water witch than me,” Foicatch said absently. “I’ve only half her gift.”

“Wait until you see him really angry,” Systlin said. “And see him tear the water from a man’s blood.”

“I have.” That was Hireena, herding the Turians forward. Her voice was low, and she looked at Foicatch with deep respect. “At the gates, as we fought.”

“Did you?” She said, with interest. Systlin had seen it done before. It had been….compelling. Hmmmm.

Later. Later. More important things first.

“Turia.” She said, her voice clear. “I greet you.”

Furious, frightened faces looked up at her. Mutters went around. Systlin remembered well what she’d been told.

“I greet you,” she said. “As Ubara Sana of the plains, won by my own hand. But of course, you are Turian, and the power in Turia lies with the merchants.”

“It is so.” One veiled woman said. She was looking up curiously; her robes were of exquisitely fine silks, and embroidered with gold. Pearls hung from the edges of her sleeves, and crystal beads glittered across her gown.

“That,” said Systlin. “May change. I understand, of course, that you’ve already well established trade routes, and I’ve no wish to interfere with them. But I am Ubara Sana now, and the old laws will change. You may have heard that, on the plains, slave chains have been outlawed, and all slaves freed. It is true, and as of this moment by my decree every slave in Turia is freed.”

There was a roar of arguments and shouting and disapproving noises.

“…cannot simply…”

“…My business is slaves! How am I to…”

“…an outrage!...”

Systlin waited them out, patient. As she did, another of the Turian women jogged in through the great door; the rain had washed away most of the mud and blood, but she was limping, a strip of cloth bound around one thigh. She murmured something to Dina, who nodded once and took the nine steps up to the dais two at a time.

“There is a problem.” Dina said. “Saphrar, a wealthy merchant, one of the leaders of the Merchant’s Caste in the city. He’s a fortified compound, and has walled himself up with his mercenary forces.”

“Tell everyone to pull back.” Systlin said at once. “Keep an eye on the compound; let no one escape. After I finish here, I’ll come and tend to his gates myself.”

Dina smiled thinly, and went back down, murmured this to the other woman. The other woman grinned like a wolf, and hurried out, swift despite her wounded leg.

“Have you all finished?” Systlin raised her voice above the crowd.

“I will contract with the Guild of Assassins for this!” A man with thick dark hair and wearing gold and white robes said furiously. He had a hand raised and was shaking a finger at the sky. “I’ll have your head in my vault. I swear it on the Priest-Kings! “

“I take it that you deal in slaves,” Systlin said dryly.

“I do! It is an honorable trade, and I have been dealing in slave meat for…”

Systlin nodded at Dina, who moved quickly. Her knife gleamed, and the man’s throat opened ear to ear. A gurgle, and a red rush of blood, and utter shocked silence.

“Slavery,” Systlin said mildly. “Is one of the greatest crimes, and slavers are condemned to death. Those who procure and deal in slaves for their own wealth are doubly damned. Throw his body to the kaiila; they must be hungry after the fight. What was his name?”

Silence.

“I asked,” Systlin said, voice going cold. “For his name. I expect an answer.”

Another moment of silence dragged out, and then…“Kazrak.” The veiled woman who’d spoken before said. “Kazrak of the Merchant Caste. His mansion is next to mine, and his warehouse is in the low streets, near the slave market.”

“Did he have a Free Companion, any children?”

“Both.”

“Then half of his estate shall go to them, and they shall maintain their home. The other half of his assets are forfeit, and will be redistributed between his slaves, who are now free.” Systlin raised an eyebrow. “Might I have your name?”

“Aphris.” Said the woman. “Of the Merchant Caste. I deal in silks and wine, not people.” She shot a somewhat vicious look at the dead Kazrak, as he was dragged off, leaving a smear of red on the tiles. “And he was cruel, and it does my heart good to see justice done him. I take it then that we, the free women of Turia, are not to be put in slave chains?”

“Bloody pits, no.” Systlin said, repulsed.

“I did not think so.” Aphris said, cool and collected, a point of calm in the angry and terrified crowd. “But many freewomen feared the worst. It is, after all, how war has been done on Gor for a very long time. You can understand the worry.”

It was a reasonable worry, Systlin supposed. “Of course. But have no fear, no hand will be raised against you. You are free, and will remain free. Aside from that, by my laws it will be punishable by death if anyone, from anywhere, ever attempted to enslave you, and I would hunt that man down and kill him for daring to put chains on one of my subjects.”

There were many free women in the crowd, and at the words there was sort of a sigh that ran through them, and a sense of some great tension lifted. The men looked startled. Systlin gestured, taking in the concealing robes all of the free women wore.

“It is no longer required,” she continued. “That you wear full Robes of Concealment in public. A free woman may dress as she likes and go where she likes. If you feel more comfortable in your robes, of course, then you are welcome to wear them, but it is not required. If you choose to set them aside and experience difficulty from anyone, you may make a formal complaint and the matter will be dealt with. I will make people and resources available to deal with such matters.”

A murmur. More looks of outrage from the men.

“Many,” Aphris said. “Will welcome this. But for myself, Ubara, I think I will choose to wear the robes, at least for some time longer.”

“Of course.” Systlin inclined her head. “And I am afraid, of course, that Turia will be judged.”

“Judged?” One man snapped. “Like you judged Kazrak?”

“Yes. Precisely how I judged Kazrak.” Systlin smiled unpleasantly. “There are three great crimes; the murder of an innocent who has done no harm, the rape of another, and enslaving another. The penalty for all three is death.”

Silence. Dead, horrified silence. And then,

“You cannot mean,” another man said, carefully. “That every man who held a slave will be killed.”

“No.” Systlin shook her head. Sighs of relief, but she continued. “Because some slaves, for whatever reason, beg mercy for those who held them. It will be up to any slaves you hold what your fate is. But,” and she grinned again, more horribly. “If a single slave you’ve held and raped chooses death for you, I will put a knife in her hand and hold you down myself for the sentence.”

“What.”

“You cannot mean…”

“Not all…”

“All.” Systlin said, merciless. “Every man in Turia. If a freewoman held male slaves…I’m told it happens…then her life is forfeit as well. I will not abide it. Have no fear; I will establish many courts to see to it. It will take us months to work through the city, but it will be done. And those of you who are guilty, I will hang your bones from the white walls as a warning.”

“You,” Said one man, who had until then been silent, staring angry daggers at her from the front of the crowd. His robes, she noted, were the finest in the room, and edged in purple. “Are mad.”

“Not the first time I’ve been called that.” Systlin said easily. She looked him over, matching up features with descriptions. “Phanius Turmus, I presume?”

“Ubar of Turia.” He confirmed, chin high. “You are defiling my throne, woman.”

“You were.” She shook her head. “But you lost. You’re simply Phanius now, and you’ll be judged with the rest.”

“I think that perhaps I shall contract with the Assassin’s Caste for your head.” He didn’t flinch or break eye contact. “Your head would look well in my vaults, I agree with Kazrak.”

“Oh, please do. I ought to make their acquaintance. It’s been some time since I trained with the assassins of my own world, and tore their master’s throat out with my knife. So yes please, do. It would be an exciting challenge.”

Foicatch sighed resignedly. “Really, love?”

Phanius was giving her a stare of pure and utter horror. “What are you?” He almost whispered. “What terrible hell did you crawl from, to plague us? Have you no respect for those of high caste?”

“My mother would be terribly offended by calling her a ‘terrible hell’.” She made steady eye contact with each person in her horrified and enraptured audience. “The terrible hell is her sister, who taught me to fight. And no. Every caste. From low to high. All will be judged the same. If any have offended in these ways, I will see justice done upon them. No one is exempt.”

“You’ll kill thousands!” One man cried. “Tens of thousands!”

“Oh,” Systlin said, cold as steel in winter. “Hundreds of thousands, I expect.”

“You cannot…”

“Poor choice of words.” Foicatch sighed again. “I could have warned you; there’s no better way to get her to do something than to tell her, earnestly, that she can’t.”

Systlin stood, and let Power rise. Not the terrible cold of Breaking, but her other gift, hot and furious and wild. Fire bloomed around her for a moment, and was gone too quickly to set fire to her clothes. But it had the desired effect. Silence fell. Horrified silence.

“I am not bargaining with you.” She said softly. “I am not suggesting. I am not your old Ubar. I stand here by right of conquest. I breached your walls and killed my way to this throne, and I am going to kill a great deal many more before I am through. The merchants and caste-masters are not ruling Turia any longer; I am.”

She moved a step down, drawing closer to them. “To put this in terms you understand, which I gathered from women you had kidnapped from a world not yours and forced into slavery; you had best get used to this new way, or you will die. I am telling you how things now are. You can flee the city, if you wish, but I will not stop here and I will find you. Be it when I take Ar, or Ko-Ro-Ba, or any other city, I will come. I am going to end slavery on this world, and I fully expect to do it at the point of a sword. I am Ubara Sana of the plains. I rule this city now. These are the great crimes that will be punished, and how they will be punished. This matter is not open for negotiation. If you dislike these words, you are free to take them up with any of the twenty thousand of my soldiers in your city. They’ll be thrilled to discuss them, I am sure.” She descended another step. “Until the courts are established and judging begins, no one is to leave the city. I control the entirety of the plains and other bands of my warriors have seized trade routes. I have the wealth of Turia at my disposal; you will not go hungry. And now, you are free to return to your homes; I have things yet to do tonight. One of you has decided to fight tooth and nail; I’m off to crack him out of his nutshell. Dismissed.”

She swept past, not looking back, and felt their eyes on her back as she went.

57 notes · View notes

sehunniepotwrites · 4 years ago

Text

AS YOU WISH | J.JH | TWO

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan, lee taeyong, johnny suh WORD COUNT. 2k

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling, a lifetime of pain

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

You had all the magic in the world at the tips of your fingers but what was the point of it all? None of your spells or incantations as a genie would bring Yuno back to you. Even a genie had their limitations— there were rules and regulations to follow and Rowena made sure you understood them perfectly.

As a genie, you were bound to your lamp unless your master called for you or wished for your freedom. The only other way for you to escape the curse was if Yuno was able to find you, become your last master, and set you free with a lover’s kiss. The situation itself sounded impossible but one could still hope in the good of people. You never wanted to lose hope in the hearts of humans but as time went on, your own heart hardened by witnessing the complete selfishness of others.

The rules you had to relay to your masters were simple. They were given two choices: to have one wish granted with endless possibilities until the end of their lives or have three restrictive wishes granted. As much as you wanted someone to wish you free, they never did, too blinded by their own wants.

Every master who had found you throughout your years picked the option of having one wish granted. With each desire fulfilled, you lost faith in the human race and were completely disgusted at their actions.

You were not able to kill, bring anyone back from the dead, or force anyone to fall in love with another person and yet, your masters found ways to come close to having these wishes granted. Those were the people you remembered most.

One of those masters was named Taeyong. He was a young man, his lithe body filled with ambition. He strived for fame and fortune and refused any other light but the spotlight. He found you in his grandfather’s belongings after his kin passed and kept you to satisfy his selfish needs.

His one wish was to remain the richest bachelor in the world and to never run out of money. Taeyong spent frivolously with you by his side, your powers robbing those with higher numbers then him.

Taeyong remained on top of the world but at the cost of stealing what really belonged to others.

Another master you had met along the way was the handsome Youngho, a businessman who had no time for socializing. He was always nose deep into his work, calling you out at random times to keep him company. He never wished for anything; he just wanted to have someone with him.

Youngho said he liked having you around and he was glad he found you. He described you as a guiding light that kept him on the path and you almost fell for his charms. Your hardening heart softened and you found yourself falling for the lonely businessman with the sharp eyes and kind smile.

“Thank you,” Youngho said one day as you sat beside him, his head curled on your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“For what?” you asked.

“For being there for me when no one else was,” he replied and you felt the flutters in your stomach. It had been centuries since you had last seen your prince but the Yuno-sized hole in your heart was slowly being filled with Youngho.

But just as you let your guard down and your heart grew soft, something happened. Youngho fell in love with another— someone who wasn’t you. The pain you felt was excruciating and you had to grin and bear it as he asked you for an endless supply of the most powerful love potion in the universe.

You had no choice but to give it to Youngho and watch him as he poured the substance into another’s cup every time they started to slip from the man’s grasp. The potion itself did not mimic the feeling of love itself, it simply gave the consumer a case of strong infatuation aimed towards the giver.

It was then you decided to hate humans and their extreme selfishness. The only people you refused to hate were Yuno and Minhyung— but they, much like the love in your heart, were long gone.

Reincarnations, you quickly discovered, were real. You could not count how many times one of your former masters found you in their new lifetime. Seeing Youngho reincarnated did not shock you one bit. He was named Johnny in this life and no matter how many smiles he flashed your way, you refused to reciprocate the action.

All humans are selfish, you repeated the mantra in your head. Do not trust anyone.

You could not fall for his dazzling smile again. You refused to. The only person that belonged in your heart was Prince Yuno.

Similar to his last life, Johnny was a workaholic. He was a businessman with almost no time on his hands but the male still made time for his friends. You heard the voices of his closest colleagues often as Johnny brought you everywhere, your lamp tucked into his bag. He kept you hidden, a secret for only him to enjoy for the rest of his days.

Some of the voices were oddly similar to ones you had heard before and how you wanted to laugh. You heard Taeyong’s voice once; how funny was it that all your former masters met in this life? With a roll of your eyes, you remembered a saying Yuno would often iterate: “You attract what you are.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish. That’s what all humans were.

There was a day Johnny had his other colleagues over for a late night drink. He hid your lamp in plain sight, the object acting as a paperweight on his coffee table as his friends gathered around the living room.

“If you could have one wish granted, what would it be?” Johnny posed the question, taking a sip of his drink. He reiterated the rules you gave him and you scoffed; the man couldn’t decide on what to wish for so he turned to his friends for ideas.

“Fame, naturally,” Taeyong’s reincarnation replied and you chuckled bitterly from inside your cage. He never changed. “I want people to remember my name.”

“Of course you would ask for that, you narcissist,” Johnny laughed, the others chiming in as well. They took turns around the room and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at each request.

Johnny posed the idea of forever staying on top, no matter the means.

“So, let’s say someone takes the number one spot, would you do whatever it takes to snatch it away from them?” A new voice muttered. It sounded awfully familiar and it made your heart lurch forward.

“Yeah,” you heard Johnny reply nonchalantly.

“Even if it led to hurting them?” the deep voice asked again. Tears welled up in your eyes and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Since killing them isn’t an option, hurting them until they’re on the brink of being ruined, why the hell not?” Johnny pushed. His other friends agreed with him but that one achingly familiar voice openly opposed his companion’s choice.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? Some people spend years working their way up to the top and I think they deserve to stay up there,” he retaliated.

“Jeffery, isn’t that a bit naive to say in the business world?” Johnny asked, a bit of edge in his voice. “It’s a dog eat dog world out there. You can’t rely on goodness and hard work to get you through everything.”

“But doing that, stepping on the underdog— it isn’t right,” the man named Jeffery said. “They’ll suffer. I don’t know, I just feel like it’s always been my duty to assist those below us and help them thrive.”

Why did Jeffery’s words sound like something you had heard before?

As the men continued their discussion, a memory from long ago came to mind. Yuno’s face during your second meeting came to mind, his handsome features wrinkled as he expressed his disappointment in Rowena’s actions: “What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right. They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

Bless the stars, you had found him.

Yuno. Your Yuno

The tears began to fall as you sobbed. He was right there with you, in the same room. You closed your eyes and listened for his voice again and placed your hand on the wall of your lamp. You were facing the direction Yuno’s voice was coming from and a smile broke out on your lips. The action of smiling felt weird to experience, seeing as how long it had been since you last grinned this widely.

After how many years of not having him by your side, your prince was finally there with you. If only you could let yourself out of your lamp.

“Hey, what is that?” Jeffery asked.

“What’s what?” Johnny replied, a bit confused.

The conversation shifted as your hand remained on the wall. They were no longer talking about wishes; instead, they were talking about you, or rather, your lamp.

“I’ve never seen that before, John; is it new?” Jeffery pushed. You felt a warmth radiating against the golden walls, a warmth similar to Yuno’s loving touch. This was it, you thought. The reunion you had been waiting for.

It grew hotter and hotter, your heart was about to burst. Electricity was flooding through your veins and a dizzying spell reached your head.

Just a little bit more, my prince. A little bit more, you said to yourself, your hand clasping against your lips as sobs of joy began to escape.

“No!” Johnny shouted. “Don’t touch that!”

Just as quickly that warmth surrounded you, it was snatched away with the same amount of speed. It disappeared, the walls now cold as your lamp shook. The sudden action jolted you across your space, causing you to hit your head on a surface.

“Sorry, John!” Jeffery said, “I was just curious.”

The mood in the room shifted and so did the mood inside your lamp.

“I think you all should go.”

“Wait, just because I tried to touch your thing?” Jeffery fought back. “It can’t be that serious, can it?”

Not liking the sudden shift, the other colleagues obeyed Johnny’s request.

“It is that serious and I think you should leave.”

“No!” you screamed from your cage, now banging on the walls. Johnny felt your actions, the lamp shaking as you continued to hit the surface. “No, no, no, no, no! Please!”

Please, you begged miserably. Using a bit of your magic that would surely cost you a bit of your health, you willed yourself to peek through spout and there he was, still as beautiful as ever.

His name might have been Jeffery in that life but he was still your Yuno. He stood there, looking just as princely as he did in the past. His blazer was draped over his shoulder with a tie loosened around his neck and white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His eyebrows were furrowed and a frown hid the dimples you loved so much.

Oh, how much you wanted to escape and turn that frown upside down. To kiss the downward curl away like you had back in the days when you were together.

“Go, Jeff,” Johnny’s voice hardened, almost challenging the younger. Jeffery took one more glance at the lamp behind his hand and you caught his eye.

You watched as he did a double take with a look of confusion before a flash of pain took over his face. That expression of discomfort went away as the man shook his head. He dragged a hand over his immaculate face, stealing your one last glance at his beauty from you, as he unwillingly put on his shoes.

“Fuck, fine,” Jeffery said before taking his leave, his back turned from you. You bit on your lip as another sob escaped you.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t leave me alone again.

He promised to always find you. Why couldn’t he find you this time around?

Yuno was so close yet so far.

How much more of this pain could a genie like you take?

Why was the universe set on keeping you apart?

Why couldn’t you finally have the only thing you wanted?

Why couldn’t your wish come true?

author’s note. hello, my genie lovers! this is the second part of three or four. i’m still working on the last part-- it’s a really slow process but i’m getting there! be patient with me, please! i would love to hear feedback from everyone! any thoughts on the rules she has to follow? her masters? her unwavering love for Yuno? uwu

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee @johtenrecs

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct x reader #nct fic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun angst #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #as you wish

154 notes · View notes

silkling · 3 years ago

Text

And Birdie Makes Three

Earth was a magnet for anything Cybertronian. Wheeljack would swear by that for the rest of his life. He’d only intended to visit Earth for a few days. Help Team Prime kick some ‘Con tailpipe, catch up with Bulkhead, have fun messing with the Doc-bot. Yet, here he was, roped into some sort of recon/retrieval mission. This wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun time. But, he had offered to help when he’d come to this little mudball, so he supposed he couldn’t complain too much.

Apparently, Ratchet had caught a Cybertronian signal headed for some remote Earth desert. From what he’d been able to tell, the good doctor had said that the signal was strange. It wasn’t the type of signal that would come off of a proper ship, so it was something else, something smaller. Personally, Wheeljack didn’t care what it was. All he cared about was the second part of the report: that the signal indicated another bot was on board whatever vessel was set to crash planet-side.

So, Prime had sent Bulkhead and the little scout to check it out, and asked Wheeljack if he’d be up for going along. How could he have said no? Besides, if it turned out to be a fight then of course he’d want to be there! Unfortunately for him, a fight was not to be had. The ground bridge had malfunctioned and dropped them a few miles off, and they’d had to drive the rest of the way to the predicted crash site. When they’d finally arrived, the vessel, which Wheeljack could now see was an escape pod, had already crashed. Apparently, whoever had been inside had also already been greeted by ‘Cons, because the terrain around the pod spoke of a rather violent battle.

The sand was soaked with energon, and the ground was strewn with vehicon and eradicon bodies. A large, thin piece of metal from the pod had been ripped off and used as a makeshift weapon; Wheeljack could see how, whoever had been in that pod, they had used to to gouge and hack at several of the dead drones. A few paces away, the offending piece of metal was stuck through an eradicon’s face. Beyond that, many of the bodies looked like they’d been killed by some sort of blaster or gun. Many more looked like something had ripped at their throats and left them to bleed out. A few were missing their helms altogether. Nearby, what had once been a large rock formation was now rubble, and the largest surviving boulder had deep gouge marks in the stone. On a few of the corpses, the edges of the escape pod, and the boulder, Wheeljack could see faint blue paint transfers.

“Primus,” Bulkhead said. “Whoever was in that pod, they sure did a lot of damage. Think the ‘Cons got them?”

Wheeljack crossed his arms, optics narrowed. Something about this was….eerily familiar. But from where? “Maybe.” he said after a moment. “Doubt it though.”

“Yeah? How do you figure that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

“Uh, guys?” Bumblebee beeped. “Hate to break this up, but you know what this means, right?”

Bulkhead blinked. “What do you mean, Bee?”

“If the ‘Cons came to get this bot, and the bot reacted like this to them,” he answered, gesturing at the scene around them. “Then whoever was in that pod is probably one of ours.”

Wheeljack perked up. “You known, kid, I think you’re right.” he grinned. Oh, now this was going to be fun.

He wondered who it was. The Terror Twins? Maybe, but the pod looked like it’d be cramped for two. Jazz? This was definitely within his ability to pull off, but something this violent wasn’t really his style. Ironhide? He definitely had the skill set to pull off carnage like this, and he would actually commit such a level of violence if he was pushed far enough. Pits, it could be a lot of mechs. It could even be one of the femmes! There was no real way to tell. Wheeljack did want to meet them and shake their hand, though. This level of chaos and destruction was honestly impressive.

“Alright.” Bulkhead spoke up. “So it’s one of ours. But the question now is, where are they?”

Oh, he just had to ruin to mood with his pertinent questions, didn’t he?

“There’s no way to tell.” Bumblebee beeped. “We just have to wait and see if more clues pop up, I guess. I hope we find them soon, though.”

That, Wheeljack could agree with.

——————————

Bulkhead was distracted. Miko knew the other humans couldn’t pick up on it, but Bulk was her best friend and she knew him. So when she said he was distracted, she meant it. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t like he wasn’t doing his job, or was getting in trouble in the field because of his distraction, but it was definitely affecting his life at base. He was so…quiet. Ever since that mission in the desert, where they’d come back without the mystery bot, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything he did with her. Miko was starting to get very annoyed with it, actually.

Which meant it was time to get to the root of the problem. And, luckily for her, no one was in the secondary chamber of the base today, which she and Bulkhead had taken over to use to practice their music when they got kicked out of the main room. Which meant now was the perfect time to brooch the subject with her giant metal pal.

“Hey, Bulk!”

He startled at her call, blue eyes darting down to fix on her. “Miko? Do you need something?”

“Yeah!” she put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been distracted ever since the desert. What’s the deal, big guy?”

He blinked slowly, then sighed. “That obvious?”

“Just to me!” she said cheerily, clambering up to perch on his knee. “So, what’s the deal? Spill!”

“It’s something Wheeljack said. At crash site, there was, uh, a lot of carnage.” he said. She could tell he was picking his words carefully to avoid going into too much detail. That was no fun! “And, well, Jackie mentioned some of the damage looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out from where. And he’s right. It was familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well,” Miko kicked her legs. “You guys said it was probably a ‘Bot, right?” At his nod, she continued. “Then maybe it’s familiar cause it’s the damage caused by a specific ‘Bot?”

Bulkhead made a noise of frustration. “We kind of figured that. But that’s the problem. We just don’t know who.”

“So, you know they’re a ‘Bot, and the damage they did was really familiar to you and Wheeljack, but you can’t figure out which ‘Bot and from where the damage is familiar?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“Hmmm…” Miko tapped her chin. “Yeah, okay. Now I see why you’re distracted.”

He chuckled, lightly tapping her head with a finger. “Thanks anyway, Miko.”

“Yeah yeah, no problem.” she said, distracted herself now. Now she was lost in thought, and over the same conundrum as Bulkhead!

Just who was this mystery Autobot?

——————————

The day had started out peaceful. Frankly, Wheeljack had been bored. Which was why he was quite thrilled with where it had gone, in the end. Ratchet had found an energon mine, and Optimus had asked him, Bulkhead, and Arcee to go check it out and collect what they could. They’d come, and they’d managed to get quite a bit of energon piled up by the time the action had started.

There has been the sound of a ground bridge, and then Breakdown had stepped out from it, followed by a gaggle of vehicons and eradicons. And then, of course, the clash began. Breakdown had gone straight for Bulkhead, and that left Wheeljack and Arcee to take on the drones. For a while, he’d let his processor blank, his frame moving on reflexes alone as he struck down an ‘Con who came into range of his blades. He didn’t notice anything around him as he fought, his swords cutting through armor and limbs and throats alike.

When he next looked up, Bulkhead had backed Breakdown into a corner. So much so that the former Wrecker had been forced to call for a ground bridge and retreat. But, of course, these were Decepticons they were dealing with, so nothing could ever be easy. Less than a minute after Breakdown had been forced to flee, another ground bridge opened and spilled out a horde of vehicons and eradicons.

“Scrap.” Wheeljack hissed.

This wasn’t good. True, the drones are easy to take down, but in large enough numbers they started to wear a mech down. They’d probably get out of this fine, but it’d be cutting it close. Arcee gave a fierce cry as she dove back into the fray, and Wheeljack exchanged a nod with Bulkhead before both Wreckers joined her. Working together, they managed to thin the horde down until there were few left.

And that, of course, was when things went wrong. Arcee had gotten too close to the edge of a nearby cliff edge, and one lucky shot her her stumbling back and over. Bulkhead reacted quickly, lunging forward and shooting out his wrecking ball for his teammate to catch. Wheeljack, meanwhile, roared and lunged forward to take out the rest of the vehicons so they couldn’t offline his friend while the big green lug was distracted.

Too late, he realized he’d forgotten about the eradicons in flight above him. In fact, he didn’t even realize they’d been there until he heard the sound of blades rapidly slicing through the air and the snarl of a powerful engine. Then there was the sound of blaster fire, and eradicons dropped to the ground around him.

Before he could look up or turn around, Wheeljack heard the sound of a transformation sequence above him, and then a heavy metal form dropped to the earth at his back. He whirled around, bringing his blades to bare, ready to slice the helm off whatever ‘Con had tried get the drop on him.

He froze, his swords mere micrometers from slicing into the throat of the offending bot, and then he slid his battle mask aside and grinned fiercely.

“Well well well, look what the turbo-fox dragged in!”

——————————

Will was not having a good day. The higher ups were getting uppity about the ‘Bots. About Wheeljack in particular, actually. They kept throwing a fit that the Wrecker wasn’t a permanent addition to Team Prime, and that he came and left as he pleased. Apparently, their displeasure was rooted in the fact that having another Autobot on the team more permanently might make them end their war a little earlier. The pencil pushers up in Washington just didn’t understand that matters were a little more complicated than that. Of course, they also refused to listen when he tried to explain that he, nor they, had any say over how the alien military handled its individual soldiers. And when Wheeljack kept leaving, they kept getting angry. Then they took that irritation out on him. Hence, he wasn’t having a good day.

He had come down to the Autobot’s base to talk to Prime about some of their more recent missions. Including the one in the desert. None of the bots had actually cleaned up the mess left behind there, and some humans had recently stumbled across it. It had been….fun, to explain that away. So, he was here to remind Prime to be a bit more careful about leaving messes on battlefields where humans might stumble across it. Will had also been ordered to try and convince Wheeljack to stay, though he wasn’t holding his breath on that one.

As he leaned against the railing, talking with Prime, he heard noise from Ratchet’s direction. The medic was talking to someone, probably one of the bots who were out, and then he was opening the ground bridge. Arcee, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack came through, carrying cubes of energon, and they set it all in the corner. When Ratchet went to turn off the ground bridge, Bulkhead stopped him.

“Just a second, Ratchet. We have a guest coming in.” he said, seeming cheerful.

“A guest?” Prime spoke up, frowning.

“Yep!” Wheeljack grinned. “He’s one of ours! It’s the ‘Bot from the escape pods!” he gestured at the ground bridge, and all eyes turned to it.

Will heard the metallic sound of Cybertronian footsteps, and then a form appeared, silhouetted against the light of the ground bridge. The bot walked forward, and as the ground bridge powered off Will got his first good look at Earth’s newest Autobot.

“Optimus, everyone, this is Whirl.” Bulkhead said, grinning. “He’s a Wrecker, like me and Jackie.”

Whirl certainly looked like he’d fit in as an elite soldier. The blue Autobot was tall, with digitigrade legs, and pincer-like claws in place of hands. His arms were a little odd, and Will was quick to realize he seemed to have some sort of rotors in each arm. His most startling feature, however, was his head. He had a cylindrical head, and no face to speak of. Instead, he had a singular, large golden eye set into the center of his head. He also had thin, sharp protrusions coming off his back, which Will swore looked like helicopter blades. Hell, even the bot’s feet were strange, looking like someone had bound the front claws of a bird’s talons and left the back claw alone.

For a second, the Autobot base was silent. Then Nakadai broke it.

“Another Wrecker?” she gasped, racing down the stairs of the entertainment nook and running up to the new bot. “That’s so cool! You look awesome! It’s really great to meet another bot, especially another Wrecker like Bulk and Wheeljack! Your claws look sharp, I bet you can do a lot of damage with them! Tell me, how many ‘Cons have you taken on with them?” she asked, excited.

Whirl startled, blinking down at her. “Oh, hey.” he spoke. “You’re one of those little organics. I didn’t know you guys kept some of the locals around.” he said, directing the last statement at Bulkhead.

“We don’t.” the green bot replied. “These guys are…a special case.”

Whirl shrugged, then turned back to the excited human at his feet. “Fine by me.” he chirped, crouching down. “Hiya!” he greeted Nakadai. “You’re very energetic! I like that!”

Nakadai cackled, clearly thrilled that the large bot was matching her energy. “I’m Miko!” she thrust her hand out.

Whirl blinked again, and then his eye was curving into a thin arch that Will swore was his approximation of a smile. “Oooh, I’ve seen this with you lot!” God, the new guy sounded giddy. “It’s how you say hello!”

Whirl held out his own hand, letting Nakadai grasp the tip of a single claw in hand before waving his hand up and down slightly. She laughed, her whole body pulled along with the movement, and let go once he stopped. Once she was stable on her feet, he reached out and very carefully tapped the tip of one claw against the top of her head.

“I like you!” he announced. “Any tiny organic brave enough to run up to the Whirlybird gets an okay in my book!”

Wheeljack laughed, walking over to his former teammate as the blue bot stood back up. He slapped Whirl’s back with a grin. “Well that’s good, because the humans are kinda a fixture here, so if you wanna stay you gotta get used to them!”

Whirl responded to the slap by punching his claws against Wheeljack’s shoulder. “Rough as always, Wheelie?” he said, the edge of a growl under his voice.

“No!” Bulkhead cut in before Wheeljack could respond. “No brawls in here.” he scolded.

Both the other bots pouted. Or, well, Will thought Whirl was pouting. It was hard to tell. “You’re no fun.” they said together.

Off to the side, Prime made a sound that Will knew to be the Cybertronian equivalent of clearing his throat. “Whirl.”

Immediately, that odd head snapped in his direction. Prime continued. “I am pleased that you have safely found your way to us. I must ask, however. How did you come to find yourself on Earth?”

“Is that what this fun little mudball is called?” Whirl made an odd clicking noise. “Neat.”

“Whirl.” Prime prompted again.

“Right.” he said. “See, I was actually a few star systems over. Had my own ship, ‘cept I crashed it. Managed to make it on my own, but then the ‘Cons found me. Was running low on fuel and not in the best shape, so they managed to nab me. Took me to this big ship, I think they were planning on sending me to old Megatron cause of our history.” Here, he waved his hand and clicked his claws in a gesture Will could only call dismissive. “Managed to get out, and I hijacked an escape pod. Next thing I know, I’m crashing on this planet and waking up to a ‘Con welcome party! I dealt with them, of course, and then went to figure out where I was! I scanned a new alt-mode, then lay low and tried to figure out the whole deal with Cybertronians here. Then I stumbled on Bulky and Wheelie, and here I am!” he finished, throwing his arms up partway as if in celebration.

Prime blinked, clearly trying to sort through the information. “…you have history with Megatron?”

“Unfortunately! Megzy hates me! I’m positive he wants to see me die very painfully!”

Will really didn’t understand how he could say that so cheerfully.

“I…see.” Prime clearly did not. Nonetheless, he continued. “You have had a long journey to come here, Whirl. I regret to inform you that Megatron is also on this planet, but if you would care to stay and join the fight then my team will welcome you.”

Whirl blinked, lifting a claw to tap at his chin. Did he have a chin? Hell if Will knew.

“Megzy’s here, eh? Well, it’s not like I was trying to avoid him anyway.” Whirl shrugged, then his eye curved in that grinning arch again. “What the Pit, I’m in! I’d be happy to join your little crew, Prime!” he chirped, his arm coming up to snap a salute.

Except as he did, it caused the armor plates under his arm to shift and reveal a wound leaking energon near his armpit. The blue of the energon was similar enough to his paint that it hadn’t been noticed in the excitement, but now as a drop of it fell to the ground, the wound was definitely noticed.

Ratchet in particular was honed in on it. “You’re injured?” he demanded, taking a step towards the new arrival. “Why didn’t you say anything? Let me take a look at that, I can repair it.” he grunted.

Whirl stepped away from the medic, his eye narrowing. “You’re a medic, yeah? I’ve heard a lot about the famous Ratchet.”

“Yes, I’m a medic.” Ratchet snapped. “Now stay still and let me look at you!” He made to get closer.

“No need, Doc! Just point me in the direction of the medical stuff and I can take care of it! I’ve treated myself plenty of times before!” Whirl said cheerily.

“Oh no you will not!” Ratchet growled, reaching for the other bot.

Whirl made an odd noise then, one that made every bot in the base go still and stare at him. His engine seemed to snarl, and his armor shifted and flared, making him look significantly larger. The rotors in his arms spun to life, a high pitched humming filling the silence. His eye focused on Ratchet, the protrusions at his back twitching.

Slowly, Ratchet backed off, raising his hands and taking a few steps away. He pointed down the hall to where the makeshift medbay had been set up. “Down that way.” he said calmly.

After a beat of silence, Whirl relaxed, the harsh glow of his eye fading as he nodded and trotted off. Once he was gone, Will spoke up.

“What in the name of Sam Hill was that?”

“A threat display.” Arcee supplied helpfully.

“Threat display?! Are you saying he threatened Ratchet? Prime, did you just invite a bot onto your team who’s a danger to the people here?” Will demanded.

“No!” Bulkhead yelped. “It’s not like that! Ratchet pushed too far.”

“How?!”

“I did.” Ratchet agreed. “He was clearly uncomfortable around me. I should have backed off when he first gave signs of discomfort.”

“He still threatened you!” Will yelled.

“I would like to know why as well, Bulkhead.” Prime said seriously.

“Whirl’s not a danger to anyone here.” Wheeljack said, sounding dead serious.

“Then what was that?” Wil demanded.

“Whirl…doesn’t really like medics.” Bulkhead said, sounding hesitant. “I think he might even have a fear of ‘em.”

“What? Why?”

Wheeljack snorted. “You all saw him. Why do you think?”

Will didn’t know what that meant. But there was silence for a moment, and it seemed like the other bots did know what that meant.

“Oh.” Ratchet was quiet. “That’s….yes. I should have predicted that.” he sounded almost faint.

“I see.” Prime murmured, tone somber.

“Oh, Pits. I didn’t even think of that.” Arcee seemed deeply uncomfortable.

In the corner, Bumblebee beeped something and shifted, refusing to look at anyone.

Will exchanged a look with the kids, who were clearly as confused as he was. Then he turned back to the bots. “Prime! What’s the deal?”

“It is not my place to say, Agent Fowler.” he said grimly. “I do apologize for causing confusion, but that information is Whirl’s alone to share.”

“But he’s not a threat?” Will said carefully. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he was smart. He could read between the lines. Whatever Whirl’s deal with medics was, it was related to some sort of trauma. He wouldn’t pry, he knew better.

“No, he is not.”

“Then I guess I should go inform the powers that be that there’s a new bot in town.” Will sighed, stepping back and heading to the elevator.

Oh, this was going to be fun to explain to higher ups, he could tell already.

—————————-

Whirl found the makeshift medbay easily. After that, it didn’t take him long to weld the gash under his arm. He used a rag to mop up the mess of energon on his armor, then tossed it aside and looked around. He couldn’t help but feel out of place. He’d seen the rest of Prime’s team. They were all Normal, were all Good and Unbroken. Whirl…wasn’t. He was Wrong, was Shattered and Twisted and Bad. But he had to keep going, didn’t he? It wasn’t like there was much else he could do. Not with the War raging on.

The copter bot sighed, his optic shuttering as he sagged where he stood. He was tired, okay? He’d been fighting for so long. He’d left the Aerial Corps because he hadn’t wanted to fight, he hadn’t wanted his life to be defined by violence. He’d been Good and Whole, back then. Back when he’d still had his hands and his shop and his watches and clocks. Back before the Senate stole it all from him.

The memory of his loss burned through him, white-hot and raging. His engine snarled, and before he realized what he was doing he raked his claws along the wall, drawing deep gouges into the metal. He stared at the damage, his engine growling with pent up aggression. He had to fight. It was all he knew. Ever since he’d lost his watches, all he’d known was violence, violence, and more violence. Now, it was the only language he knew, the only thing he understood. He lived and breathed violence, and with every passing day the storm raging in his helm grew worse.

Whirl wasn’t sane. He was well aware of that fact. But what was he supposed to do about it? There were no psychologists, not among the Autobots or Decepticons. Even if there were, he wouldn’t go. His thoughts were his own. He wasn’t about to bare his spark to some soft little processor-doctor in the vain hope it might help. It wouldn’t. He knew that. Medics, of the psychiatric kind or otherwise, never wanted to help him. Even when they had to treat him to save his life, it was always the bare minimum he needed before they kicked him out of their medbay. Medics weren’t good. Not to him, never for him.

He stared at the damaged wall for another beat, then turned his helm away and walked out of the room. He stopped, surprised when his exit was met with the sight of Bulkhead. Immediately, he forced his EM field to project cheer and humor, forcing down the exhaustion and melancholy that he knew had been wrapped in it before. No one could know. Everyone already knew ol’ Whirlybird was insane and prone to fits of violence. He wouldn’t let them know how bad off his processor actually was. It would make his end goal for the end of the War easier to get away with. He didn’t want to be helped. “Help” was usually just another excuse other bots used to hurt him anyway.

“Bulky!” Whirl chirped. “Fancy meeting you here! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Don’t tell me the Prime asked you to escort little ol’ me?”

Bulkhead seemed mildly confused but mostly amused. “You’re still the same Whirl, aren’t you?” he grinned. “No, but Jackie and I got one of the spare rooms here set up for you. It’s only got a berth in it right now, but if you’re staying on Team Prime you’ll need your own space.”

Whirl blinked, cocking his helm. His winglets fluttered at his back. “Awe!” he cooed. “You shouldn’t have! I’m flattered!”

He chuckled, then gestured with one large hand. “This way. I’ll show you were it is. Optimus said you can rest and regain your strength for the rest of the day, but tomorrow he’d like to talk to you and explain our situation here.”

Whirl set off to follow the big green bot as he walked off. “Fine by me! It’ll be nice to recharge in a berth again! Lemme tell ya, the ground on this mudball isn’t comfortable at all!” he complained. “I made the mistake of recharging in some of that organic plant matter once, and I’m still picking out organic bits from my seams!”

Bulkhead chuckled, grinning over his shoulder. “Yeah, Earth can be pretty messy sometimes. It’s a pretty neat planet, though. I think you’ll like it, especially the humans!”

“Well, if the rest of the tinies are anything like that Miko one, then I probably will!”

“Miko’s a class all on her own.” Primus bless him, Bulkhead seemed proud of that. “She’s my ward. Optimus assigned her and the other two children to three of us when they accidentally discovered our secret.”

“Awe, you’re like a proud creator. That’s adorable, Bulky.”

“Wha-no!” he sputtered, field flaring with embarrassment. “It’s not like that! I just take care of her while she’s here! She’s a good kid.”

“You’re not helping your case, buddy.”

Bulkhead groaned, coming to a stop in front of a door. “Oh, just shut it, Whirl.” Despite the harsh words, there was no true anger in his voice. “Anyway, this is your room. I’m going to go join the others. You’re free to do what you want.” he said, then spun on his heel and hurried off, likely to escape further teasing.

Whirl stared after him in amusement, then opened the door and slipped in, letting it slide shut behind him. As Bulkhead had said, there was only a berth in the room, but he could add to it as time went on. Besides, right now he only needed the berth anyway. He padded over to it, and let himself fall face-first into it. He kicked his legs and flopped around to get his whole body into the berth, then rolled and twisted until he’d gotten himself wrapped in the mesh blanket that had been left on it.

He was tired. He’d been traveling for a long time without proper recharge. He could deal with the things to come in the morning. Right now, he just wanted rest. Whirl sighed, optic slipping shut as he relaxed. In the silence of the room, he let his processor wander, slipping from thought to thought until recharge took him.

And as day turned to night and and rest of the base bedded down, Whirl slept on, dreaming dreams of all the things he had been, and all the things he could be.

———————————————————————————————————

So, I don’t really have an excuse for this. I like Whirl. He was fun in Cyberverse, and when I realized he existed in other media I got excited. Full disclosure, I didn’t read the comics. But! I do know a bit about him from other sources. So this was my interpretation of Alligned Continuity Whirl. Idk if I’ll continue this. I might, it was all very self-indulgent.

But, anyway, let me know what you think! I hope y’all liked it. Whirl is fun to write. He’s going to be a horrible influence on Miko, just know that in advance.

Until next time, folks!

121 notes · View notes

g-on-ef · 4 years ago

Note

Blitz decides to take up Strikers offer because frankly, he’s confused. For the first time, someone has gave him respect, and treated him like an equal. Is this what life could be like for him? He can feel the chemistry between himself and Striker, it’s different than the transactional fucks with Stolas.

He leaves a note for M and M and Loona, explaining everything, that he’ll be gone for a while, because he has things he has to work out. Honestly, Blitz thinks they won’t even miss him.

Blitz leaves with Striker that night, with Strikers tail curled round Blitz’s hip.

A/N: saw an opportunity to turn this into a mini fic and I did ^^ characters might be slight oc

Blazing red eyes met emerald green ones.

It was so tempting to say yes to give in to Strikers words and join him and his crusade.

His words screaming in his head, drowning out every other thought and reason as to why he shouldn't agree to Strikers plan.

But why not? After all Striker was right Stolas saw him as a plaything and treated him like he was lower than the Prince.

Blitz would never admit it but Stolas's words cut him deep.

Reminding him how he's only an imp, always sexualizing him, talking down on him, making him feel like all he's good for is a good fuck.

Not to mention how that while he agree to be his bodyguard he realized what a fool he was, Stolas could have easily defended himself and his daughter and yet he invited him and his employees and all that it got them was Blitz being reminded of the awful time he spend there, Moxxie and Millie getting hurt and that cheap ass robo clown reminding him yet again how everyone feels about him.

But if agree to join him ... What would happen to Moxxie and Millie ??? His precious Loony ??? He doubts that Striker would let them join them, what will he do without them?

"Well Blitz?"

Blitz felt like he was drowning in his thoughts and Strikers voice was able to pull him out from the very depts of his mind.

"What's your answer?" His tail wrapped itself around Blitz's waist and pulled him closer to Strikers body.

Blitz placed his hands on Striker's chest, their eyes never leaving each other.

However Striker placed his hands down and backed away a little leaving enough room for Blitz to breath and not feel like he was being corner into giving the answer Striker wants to hear.

His tail however remain wrapped around his waist.

Blitz looked away as his hand began to pet Striker's tail the cowboy began to purr making Blitz smile a little, his smile however fell as he thought about the situation they are in.

"I...I don't know," there he said it, he wasn't sure if he should agree to this or not. While the idea was tempting he wasn't sure if he could do it, if he was the one to help Striker to fight along side with him. Sure they tied in the games but does that even mean anything? Is he qualify to stand beside Striker.

After all Blitz maybe a good assassin but he wasn't that good.

Than again his insecurities sure were screaming loudly today reminding him that he'll never be good enough.

He felt a gloved hand under his chin, lifting his head, making him look Striker in the eyes.

"What do you mean?" His voice was soft, not annoyed or angry nor demanding but soft as if he was going at Blitzs pace.

Blitz gulped. This was another thing about Striker that Blitz admire.

The patience he had with him.

Blitz wasn't a fool he knew he could be a bit to much but the short time he and Striker spent together Striker showed him he genuinely liked Blitz and his company.

Last night definitely proved how much Striker loved Blitzs company.

Shaking his thoughts from straying he focus on the question he asked.

"I can't abandon M&M or Loony they're my family,"

H expected him to say something rude about them, find some way to manipulate him into turning his back against his employees.

Striker looked at Blitz and could see how vulnerable he was being, how sacred he was of something awful happening to him after saying no. Not only that but he could see his insecurities clear as day.

They were slowly rising up from whatever cage Blitz had them locked in, could see how they were giving him doubts reminding him of all the lies that everyone has ever told him until they became his version of the truth.

He can't help but wonder exactly what Goiesha and others before that pompous asshole did to him to make him scared to say no. Or feel like he wasn't good enough. Striker vow to hunt them all and kill them.

Striker pulled Blitz closer to him wrapping his hands around Blitz he hugged the smaller imp.

He could feel Blitz body freezing and the contact and not knowing what to do.

Striker ignored that and instead kissed the top of his head.

"I hate being being a weak ass bitch but for you I'll be one Blitz, if you want a better life for them then getting rid of Goiesha and the rest of the overlords is our best bet, I may fuck around wit Moxxie but even I can see how much you care for him and Mildred. Not to mention how much you love your daughter. I won't force you to say yes but think about it okay?"

He tighten his arms around him.

"You have so much untapped potential, don't let fucktards like Goeshia make you think otherwise.

He pulled back from Blitz his tail gave him one last squeeze before uncoiling itself from his body he gave Blitz one last smile before giving him a piece of paper.

"my number if and when you're ready to join me,"

Striker left him alone before he was out of the room. Leaving Blitz alone with his thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blitz packed his things away Striker was gone, neither Millie nor her parents knew where he went they were however mad he left them without a warning.

Blitz packed his things away, last night he barely got any sleep hell he was ready to just off himself so that he could sleep.

Last night all he could think about was Striker and how the other imp made him feel.

It wasn't just mutual respect it was the fact that he was attracted to the other imp their fuck before the games was the best fuck Blitz had.

Not only that but he trusted Striker enough to bottom and he rarely did that.

He remembers how Striker made him feel, challenged, appreciated, cared for, Striker was bringing so many feelings out of Blitz he never knew he had.

Not to mentioned that Striker made him question everything he knew.

Striker referring him as a plaything to Stolas cut deep, not because it was Strikers intentions but because how true they were.

Not to mention it didn't matter how far Blitz got he was still a lowly imp who only existed to obey orders from those higher than him.

Him giving into Stolas's demands proved that.

Sure he could use that he gets to keep the book and only has to visit him during the full moon but that didn't change the fact that he was basically Stolas's bitch.

Loo Loo Land and The Harvest Moon Festival were perfect examples of him doing whatever Stolas said just because he got paid or he was wear down until he gave in.

Striker ... Striker did the one thing no one has ever done for him ... he gave him a choice ... he asked him to join him; not once did he try to force Blitz to say yes or kept pushing till h gave in.

Even now he was giving him the choice to say yes or no.

He could've done so many things to force him to say yes instead he gave him space didn't push for more than what Blitz was willing to share nor did he manipulate the situation into his favor he just respect Blitz and left him be.

Blitz wonder if he should give into temptation, say yes and see how far he could go and the extent of his power.

Looking at Millie, Moxxie, and Loona ... he wonder how they would feel if he left.

He secretly wonders if they would even care that he's gone.

Loona didn't really care for him and Moxxie was only there because of Millie and we'll Millie loves killing so he wonders if she even cares about him or just loves that she gets to kill humans.

Fitzorallys words cut deep because it was a question he always tried to avoid asking himself because he knew deep down no one did.

He wasn't stupid, he knows he can be a bit much, overbearing and annoying so will they even miss him?

He takes a deep breath and shoves that question deep within his subconscious, just another query that he will avoid as much as he can.

"Sir are you okay?"

Blitz lifted his head and looked at his fam- employees

He could see them eyeing him carefully wondering what was wrong with their boss.

"Yeah Moxxie everything is fine,"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Three weeks later

Striker open the door before he could even knock.

The cowboy IMP wasnt wearing his hat which made him look sexier than with it on.

"You came,"

"Yeah ... I did ... I'm in,"

Striker nodded his head he grabbed Blitz's bag and jerk his head a movement that told him to follow him to wear Bombproof was.

Blitz followed him. After much deliberation Blitz decided to follow Striker. He couldn't give a good reason as to why he wanted to join him.

Perhaps it could be do to his words, or maybe because he genuinely like Striker and wanted to see how far their relationship could go there many reasons as to why he decided to join Striker but he did know one thing for sure

He knew that if he wanted to make it to the top he'll need to stop serving bitter sinners and partner up with Striker and kill the unkillable. Make them pay for all the shit they put him and IMPs and hellhounds through.

Striker was right if he wanted his employees to have a good life he'll need to change the system

He already left a note to M&M as well as Loona he told them that he would be gone for a few weeks as he had somethings to figure out.

He of course before meeting or contacting Striker, Blitz met up wit Stolas told him that he can have him for a whole day to do whatever Stolas wanted the only thing he asked was for him to give Millie, Moxxie, and Loona 2.5 million dollars each that way they'll at least have money and not worry about anything for the time being.

Worst day of his fucking life but it was worth it. Stolas of course wanted to know why Blitz demanded for such a thing.

Blitz just gave him the finger threw his book in his face and left.

Striker put his bags over Bombproof before his hands grabbed Blitz's waist and hoisted him up placed him on Bombfires back.

Striker got on his hellhorse with ease.

He felt Striker's lips on his forehead before Striker's tail wrapped itself around his waist pulling Blitz closer to him.

"You won't regret this,"

Blitz smiled at Striker before cupping his face leaning forward he kissed Striker the two shared a soft passionate kiss

The two pulled back giving each other soft smiles. Blitz curled up on Striker's chest letting out soft purrs as Striker ordered Bombfire to move.

Blitz for the first time in weeks slept peacefully while Striker brought the smaller imp closer to his body his tail tightening itself around his waist not once did it let go of his beloved.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Imma be honest with y'all ... It was not supposed to be this long ... Oh well tell me what you guys think ^^

#blitzo helluva boss #helluva striker #blitzo x striker #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #answers asked #anon #anonymous #ficlet

106 notes · View notes

lilyofthesword-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Make or Break (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki and the reader are paired up for a mission to sneak into a newly discovered Hydra facility. If they are successful, S.H.I.E.L.D. may promote the reader to allow them on a larger variety of missions.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 6,831

Warnings/Disclaimers: Some cursing, violence, mentions of blood and injury

A/N: I lied on the word count when I posted the excerpt. I touched the text again trying to review for the millionth time.

Masterlist

Leaning back in your seat, you perused the tablet holding the mission information for the fourteenth time. It was supposed to be quick and simple, but it didn’t mean you should be any less prepared. Sneak into the newly discovered HYDRA base, download the data, extract the target and get back to headquarters in one piece. You’re only worry was who S.H.I.E.L.D. paired you with to complete this mission, the god who neglected to attend the briefing. You had worked with Black Widow and Hawkeye before, but that was it. You were a lower-level field agent whose clearance did not allow for you to go on the bigger missions with the other Avengers. No teaming up with super humans, gods or tech wizards for you. Or so you thought.

Your superiors thought it was a great idea for you to tag along with Loki this time. He had been a tentative Avenger for about five years now and was trusted enough to go on solo missions. Even though he could do this mission perfectly well on his own, you knew exactly why you were there. It was a test. You had worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few years and were due for a promotion soon, but one you had to prove you were ready for. If everything went well, your ranking would be elevated and you’d be going on the higher priority missions. Loki had unwittingly become the key to success. The rumors were he was notoriously hard to work with, and if a person could successfully complete a mission with him, they were ready to be promoted. However, that rarely happened. Most of the agents Loki had been teamed with wound up either leaving for good or asking for a desk job, regardless of how successful they were.

You lowered the tablet as Loki strode with the grace and confidence of a panther onto the Quinjet. Instead of picking a seat, he came to a halt in front of you. Straining your neck, you kept your gaze up and locked with his. You may have been sitting but the man had no right being so tall. He was absolutely trying to intimidate you, to break you in that moment. You wondered if all the talk about him being difficult were true. Despite both of you working at S.H.I.E.L.D., you had only met in passing. You can’t exactly get a good read on someone’s personality when the only time you see them is at the other end of the hall. The most you two had ever done was a quick nod of acknowledgment before going back to work.

“Agent,” he finally spoke, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Loki,” you nodded like usual.

He took the seat across from you without breaking eye contact. You desperately wanted to return to your tablet. He was turning you into a nervous wreck, but you would not let him know that. Letting your stubbornness win, you kept up the staring contest that could have lasted an eternity. It was only when the Quinjet lifted off that he nodded back, a book appearing with a green shimmer in his hand to steal his attention away from you. Quietly letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you returned to the mission information.

The Quinjet touched down a ways from the HYDRA base in a forest clearing. For the sake of stealth, you had to go on foot for the rest. Reaching the edge of the forest, you and Loki scoped out the area containing what looked like an abandoned building. You knew better though. Your intel suggested there were a handful of basement levels where the HYDRA operatives were working. It also didn’t help that they had tiny, mostly well-concealed cameras around the building. That was the first hurdle.

Crouching in the grass behind the trees, you pulled open one of the pouches on your utility belt for the device you were going to need. Connecting it to the main wiring for the outside cameras would allow you to fake the feed so it would playback only recent footage, preventing their security from seeing you enter. All they could possibly notice is a slight flicker on their screens when the connection was made. With the device in hand and powered up, you looked to Loki. Surely he had seen these before working with the other agents. With a tilt of his head, motioned for you to keep quiet and close. He waved his hands over to two of you, a green mist shrouding you and tingling your face momentarily, and was on the move, stepping out into the clearing.

You tailed Loki as closely as possible without stepping on his heels. He had used some sort of invisibility charm to conceal you both, but you had no idea what kind of distance from him was allowed to keep it working. Reaching the building, you followed Loki around the perimeter until you found the mounted box that acted as the juncture for camera wirings. Running from the bottom of the box into the ground was the main wiring casing. You placed your device on the PVC casing and held it in place as it cut through the tube. When it finished, you pressed the button to lock it in place and waited for it to attach to the right wires, the device flashing green briefly when it finished. Thank the gods for Stark and his technology making things easier.

Locating a side door, Loki opened it a sliver to peer inside before ushering you to slide inside. Once you two were in, he gently pulled the door shut. Unsurprisingly, the area was like an empty warehouse and yet oddly clean. Had the building truly been abandoned, dust and cobwebs would have adorned the tall, industrial shelving and its contents. Slinking through the aisles, you managed to find the elevator with stairs nearby leading to the lower levels. You both silently agreed on the stairs.

Basement floor one was fairly sparse, but still held a few HYDRA agents on patrol. What you needed was probably down a couple of levels for security reasons. It was on the third basement level where things were getting more interesting. There still weren’t many people on this floor, but there was more variety. Men in officer uniforms and lab coats occupied these halls. Loki led the way under the subpar lighting for the next phase. You needed to find a terminal where you could plug in the flash-drive you were assigned and run the program for data extraction.

Spotting one near a large set of imposing doors, you tapped Loki’s arm to point him in the right direction. His reaction was somehow both predictable and surprising. He snapped his head around with an incredulous look on his face like how dare you touch him. Arching an eyebrow, you challenged him and pointed to the terminal console. A touch of tension rippled away from his shoulders as he huffed softly, leading you in the new direction. At the terminal, you inserted the drive and typed in the commands to run the program. As you waited for it to finish, you searched for information on the target’s location. All you had received in briefing and the mission files was the person’s name was Timothy Lawrence. Hopefully, that would be enough to find him in the database.

As you were scanning through anything that could be relevant, you were suddenly snatched away, shoved against the unforgiving metal wall and chest-to-chest with Loki. You were about to protest when you heard footsteps clopping in your direction. Making yourself as small as possible, you flattened yourself against the wall which allowed for Loki to bring himself closer. Although you were still invisible, it was only a visual trick. Sound or touch would shatter the illusion. A scientist and guard rounded the corner, not paying heed to the console, and passed through the doors next to it.

Relaxing slightly when the doors swished shut, you ducked under Loki’s arm to return to the console. You found a list of test subjects, and sifted through the test subject numbers until you stumbled on the one that was close.

Subject: 604

Initials: T.H.L.

Sex: Male

Age: 6

Location: 409

None of the other initials had fully matched the name you were given, so the chances this was the target were slightly more favorable. You closed out your search and the data extraction finished about thirty seconds later. Swiping and tucking the flash drive away safely, you nodded to Loki who immediately headed back to the stairs and brought you down to the fourth basement floor.

While creeping around the lower level to locate the correct room, dread gurgled in your stomach. You had heard of HYDRA’s child experiments, but actually being in its presence was entirely different. The kid was only six. What the hell were they doing to him and why? And did S.H.I.E.L.D. know how old the target was and not divulge that information to you? Wouldn’t that be important? You had to shake your head to bring yourself out of your self-made rabbit hole. Those questions could be answered later. You needed to focus on finding the kid and getting him out.

Loki stopped suddenly, you almost running into him. He gave you a pointed look and rolled his eyes. You had reached your destination. You pressed the button to the side of the door, allowing it to slide open. The room was filled with computers, some life monitoring systems. Those were alongside a table where an unconscious, small boy was strapped down. Loki closed the door and with a snap of his fingers, cancelled the invisibility charm as you made your way to check on the kid. His little eyes shot open upon hearing Loki, pupils dilating with fear and panic.

“Shhh... It’s alright,” you cooed softly, holding your palms out in front of you. “We’re getting you out of here.”

The little boy stilled, confusion transitioning to tentative understanding. That was until he saw Loki. A strangled squeak barely breached his throat. He struggled against his restraints, looking like he wanted to phase through the table to get away. You turned to Loki who held his hands up and backed away, the hurt clearly evident on his face.

“Hey, look at me.” You reached for the boy slowly, but his eyes were still focused on Loki. You cupped his face between your hands. “He’s with me.”

His eyes darted back to you, still scared out of his mind.

“Timothy, right?”

He nodded with tears threatening to soak his face.

“He’s working with the Avengers now. He’s here to help.” You brushed his matted hair away from his sweat slicked forehead. “We are getting you out of here. You’ll be safe, okay?”

He nodded again with a sniffle. You looked back at Loki and waved him over. Making himself as non threatening as he could manage, he stepped to the other side of the table. You two worked on undoing the padded restraints. Once free, you helped Timothy sit up, his arms shaking like a leaf in the wind. How long had he been kept like this? He could barely support the upper half of his body. If if arms were this bad, you didn’t even want to know how badly his legs atrophied.

“Here.” You spun around so your back was facing the table. “I’ll carry you.”

Loki strode over to help Timothy drape his arms over your shoulders and kept him in position as you hooked your arms under his legs to hold him up. Ready to be back on the move, Loki placed his invisibility charm over the three of you. He led you back through the compound only stopping to keep you all from running into HYDRA agents. It wasn’t until you had reached the stairs on the third floor when the alarms went off. You and Loki looked at each other momentarily before booking it. Between the sirens and pounding feet, it’s not like you needed to worry about being quiet anymore.

Dodging various agents sprinting up and down the stairs, you made it to the ground floor which was now filled with armed guards to prevent your escape. Thankfully, they still could not see you, but you needed to get past them to reach any of the doors. Loki pulled you to the side behind some shelving, cloning himself in the process. His now visible clone teleported near the guards who proceeded to fire at it. The distraction allowed you to sneak back out the side door, but the door slamming shut did not go unnoticed. You were almost into the forest when the agents funneled out of the building, showering you with bullets.

With the illusion broken, Loki slowed to place himself in between you and the agents, raising a barrier to stop the bullets. Timothy clung to your suit as tightly as his little hands could, his whimpers barely audible over the gunfire and shouting. The Quinjet was just becoming visible through the trees and brush.

Stumbling once or twice, you glanced back to try to catch his attention. “We’re almost there, Buddy,” you huffed. “Just keep holding on.”

He nodded as he shoved his face in your shoulder. The ramp to the Quinjet lowered as you reached the clearing. Not waiting for it to lock in place, you hopped onto the ledge with Loki hot on your heels. While you settled Timothy into a seat, Loki closed the ramp and informed the pilot to lift off. The cacophony of bullets pinging the jet like clanging pots and pans grew quieter as you took off for home.

You let out a sigh of relief and slumped in your seat, an arm wrapped around Timothy who had curled into your side. The older sibling in you, a roll that had been ripped from you all too early in life, took over as you gingerly carding your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. Being so focused on the kid, you almost missed Loki giving you an appraising look. He was standing near the cockpit, watching you two curiously. With a sudden furrow of his brow, he strode over and knelt next to you.

“You’re injured,” he stated before you could get a word out about his strange behavior.

“What’re you talking about?” You looked down to find a small trail of blood originating from your left calf. That was when you finally felt it. The adrenaline-fueled chase must have fogged up your brain enough for you to not notice you had been shot.

Loki lifted your leg to get a better look, you hissing in pain as he did. You did your best not to squirm so you wouldn’t wake Timothy from his well-deserved rest. Your free hand gripped the edge of the seat. Had you not been wearing gloves, Loki would have seen your knuckles turn white.

Materializing one of his knives, he carefully cut and removed the offending pants leg that blocked his attempt to tend to your wound. “I will need to remove the bullet,” he said, returning to his feet to grab the first-aid supplies.

Grimacing at the thought, you shook your head. “Let’s just throw some antiseptic on it and wrap it. The bullet can wait until we get back.”

“Tch. Stubborn mortal,” he scoffed. “It will only be worse for you if we do that.”

He returned to your side with the supplies. He paused to look up at you and then Timothy. Placing a glowing green palm on the boy’s forehead, he muttered something in an unrecognizable language.

“There. Now he won’t be disturbed for the next few hours.”

Without giving you a chance to protest further, he cleaned your wound before starting on the bullet. Luckily, for both of you, it was not too deep. You still tore off a glove to bite down on in an attempt to not focus on the pain, but it could have been worse. Loki was surprisingly gentle throughout the whole ordeal. Although, you couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t just use his magic. Had he exhausted his abilities having used them for most of the mission?

A light squeeze to your knee brought you back to reality. Loki had finished wrapping your leg and proceeded to sit himself on the other side of Timothy. You tried to stay awake to keep an eye on the peaceful boy in case he woke up. After several times of you catching Loki watching you and Timothy, you gave up and allowed sleep to overtake you.

Timothy stirred when the Quinjet touched down, your arm still around his tiny frame. Moving to stand and prepare to leave, you felt his fingers dig into your suit, not ready to part from you just yet. Instead, you pulled him into your lap and stood to carry him out, ignoring the leg that caused a slight limp in your gait. As if on cue, his limbs wrapped around you like a spider monkey. Meeting you as you exited the jet was a medical team. A nurse swept in to take Timothy with them to the med bay, but Loki placed himself in front of you. The nurse stepped back fearfully bumping into one of her teammates. The crew looked at a loss of what to do until Agent Hill stepped through the doors.

Sighing, she motioned you inside. “Let’s get him to the medical wing.”

What an odd locomotive you all made moving down the halls. Hill was in lead with you following directly behind her. Loki stayed close to you, a hand ghosting your back between your shoulder blades. The medics were in last as they tried to keep up without getting too close to Loki. Timothy shifted in your arms like he was trying to get more comfortable. Rubbing his back, you pressed forward. What you weren’t able to see was that he kept peering up at Loki with the smallest, shyest possible smile.

Finally reaching the room the medical team was going to perform a checkup on the kid, you set him down on the bed, but he still wasn’t ready to let go. You were able to pull away just enough to see his face. He didn’t seem quite as scared but it was clear he was not fond of the medics. While some wore scrubs, the rest had lab coats that were too similar to the HYDRA scientists.

“They aren’t here to hurt you,” you smiled softly. “They just want to make sure you’re not hurt or sick, okay?”

He released his grip on you and folded his hands in his lap, allowing you to take a step back.

“Would you feel better if we stayed in the room?”

Looking between you and Loki who was currently behind you, he nodded vigorously. You smiled back and moved to lean against the far wall, close enough to see you but not enough to crowd the medics. Loki looked thoughtfully at Timothy who stared back at him with hopeful eyes before joining you.

A couple weeks later, you were at your station, rummaging through emails. You found one about Timmy, as he preferred to be called, being transferred at the end of the month to another facility where other children rescued from HYDRA were residing. At least he would be with kids his own age. Through the tests the medical team had run, it turns out Timmy was enhanced. HYDRA had taken him and his family, but left only him alive when they learned the rest of his family held no mutations. S.H.I.E.L.D. would not divulge to you what his abilities were, but considering how quickly he bonded with you and Loki, you were at least allowed to contact and visit him every so often, something you planned to work into your schedule.

You closed out your emails upon hearing approaching footsteps. Agent Hill was speed walking towards you with a folder in hand.

“Good morning, Agent,” she greeted you with an infectious smirk, holding the folder out to you.

“Good morning, Agent Hill.” You took the folder and checked the paperwork inside. Holding back a squeal, you hugged the folder to your chest. “Really?!”

“Congratulations!”

You bit your lip to contain your excitement. “I wasn’t really expecting this, especially so soon.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be telling you this but...” She sidled up next to you, lowering her voice. “I did read Loki’s report. The partner review section is usually filled with snarky comments and insults. Your’s was different. It was glowing compared to past reports.”

You tilted your head at her in confusion. There was plenty for him to complain about. You were not perfect. Your skills as a field agent were slightly above average, nothing to write home about. There was a lot you could do better.

“There was only one word.”

Arching an eyebrow, you nodded for her to continue.

“Tolerable.”

That was a glowing review?! You had to stop yourself from laughing. You really did not want to know what he wrote about the others.

After the mini-gossip session, Agent Hill left you to continue her other tasks. With a slight bounce in your step, you headed to the break room for some coffee. You were later than usual, but everyone on this floor was usually pretty good about making sure the coffee pot was never left empty. Opening an overhead cupboard, you groaned to yourself. All the mugs were on the higher shelving. Where were the ones that were normally lower? You weren’t sure you could reach even if you stood on your toes, but damned if you weren’t going to try anyways.

“Having trouble, Agent?” a low voice queried from behind startling you.

About to lose your balance, you tried to put yourself back fully on your feet but overcompensated and fell backwards instead. A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders, preventing you from hitting the ground. You righted yourself and spun on your heel to face the trickster.

“Thanks, Loki...”

“You’re quite welcome, Agent.” The way he emphasized “agent” made you nervous. You weren’t sure if it was in a good or bad way.

He reached past you into the cupboard. Grabbing a couple of mugs, he offered you one with a sly smile. “Is this what you needed?”

Of course he could reach with no problems. You cleared your throat as you took one from him. “Y-yes. Thank you.”

Turning back around to face the counter, you started to pour coffee into your mug. Loki slid in next to you and turned on the electric kettle. You caught him watching you from your peripheral vision as you moved to the fridge for creamer. Having added just the right amount, you leaned your back on the counter. You take a sip, the mug a barrier to hide part of your face.

“So... What brings you here?”

He motioned to the tea bag he had pulled from the container on the counter.

You rolled your eyes. “Is that all?” This floor wasn’t even the normal floor he visited. What was he up to?

“Yes, Little Agent,” he smirked. “This break room is much quieter than the one normally inhabited by the beloved Avengers.”

Snickering, you took another sip. “Right, right.”

Knowing he had been caught, he shifted his focus on the water just starting to boil.

You pushed yourself away from the counter. “Well, I need to get back to work. See you around?”

“Indeed, Agent.”

Timmy flew into your arms as you knelt near the ramp of the Quinjet. “You’re going to come visit, right?”

“Promise,” you reassured him with a grin. How this kid managed to bounce back so quickly was beyond you, but seeing him this happy brought a spark of warmth to your chest. This was one of the reasons you joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

He let go and peered around you sheepishly. “Mr. Loki?”

Looking over your shoulder, the mischievous god was leaning back near the door preferring to watch from a distance. He ducked his head to hide the light smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Turning away so Loki couldn’t see, you smiled at their interaction. Who knew Loki could be a softie.

An agent appeared at the top of the ramp, ready to bring Timmy onboard.

“Be good for them, okay?” You ruffled his hair and stood up.

He nodded and hugged you one more time before running off to the agent. He turned back before the ramp closed, giving you and Loki a wave goodbye. With the Quinjet taking off, you spun on your heel and made your way to the door.

“You are much too kind.”

You hand paused on the door handle. “I’m sorry?”

Loki faced you, a scrutinizing look in his eyes. “You are too kind for this line of work.”

“I can handle it, Loki. I have my reasons for being here,” you scoffed, arms folded across your chest.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” He smirked at you and opened the door for you to enter first. “It’s rather refreshing.”

This god really knew how to flip an emotional switch. You just shook your head and proceeded inside, deciding it was better to not stand around argue with him. There was a new mission briefing for the two of you to attend, and you were not about to let him make you late.

Fury kept pairing you and Loki for missions. Sometimes another field agent or Avenger would tag along for support, but for the most part it was just you two. Most of the missions involved as much stealth as possible, but combat was inevitable in some cases. Loki might as well have glued himself to you during those moments. He never left you when a fight broke out, going so far as to stand between you and the shots fired in your direction. Guess he found a little more than “tolerable”.

Even outside of the missions you wound up spending time together. With the promotion, your work station had been moved to the same floor as the Avengers which meant you also shared the break room and training facilities. While Loki never showed up at your workstation, he did “happen” to come across you everywhere else, usually sticking to the background when others were around.

“You know, Loki, stalking someone generally involves the stalker not being in plain sight,” you teased, using a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. Training with Nat, as she nearly demanded you to call her, was intense but absolutely worth it. You attributed the recent mission successes to her as you may not have survived with out her guidance.

“Tch. I would not consider it ‘stalking,’ merely watching your back,” he scowled, clearly not amused.

“Calm down, Mischief. I’m only joking,” you grinned, nudging past him out the door. “But seriously, you don’t need to constantly ‘watch my back’. We’re at S.H.I.E.L.D., not on a mission.”

Following you, he taunted, “Then, I suppose you would prefer to be left alone. I see how it is.” He feigned being hurt by your words.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” you deadpanned.

His pace quickened until he spun in front of you, forcing you to a halt. “Then, my little agent, what do you mean?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in a moment of silence. For whatever reason, he had taken to calling you that a few months ago. You were oddly okay with it, possibly even liked it though you were not ready to admit that just yet.

“What I mean is...” You took a step closer, now mere inches away, heart thundering in your chest. “You are allowed to talk to me when there are other people nearby.”

He leaned in, pushing how far this little standoff was going to go. “So I have your permission now? Thank you so much.”

“You never needed it.” Gods, you were so close now. You could have just gotten it over with and kissed him, but the thought of his reaction stopped you. Loki could be so hard to read. You couldn’t take anything at face value. It would not surprise you if he were messing with you now. But you could always try to catch him off guard...

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” you smirked and stepped around him. “I would like to get cleaned up for my date tonight.”

With that, you darted into the locker room, leaving the trickster frozen in the hall, mouth agape.

“He does like you,” Timmy said sporadically yet nonchalantly as he kicked the ball to you.

“‘He’ who?” You kicked the ball in the air towards him.

“Mr. Loki.”

You rolled your eyes at his “no duh” tone. “Maybe as a coworker.”

“Nooo!” He bounced the ball off his head, letting it then hit the ground to be forgotten. “I mean ‘like like’.”

You were about to scoff but thought back to earlier in the day. Loki’s reaction to your comment could lead someone to believe that, but that certainly was not enough proof. And, no. You were not on an actual date, but a date is a kind of planned event, and you had planned to visit Timmy. Loki would probably see through your partial lie eventually, but you at least had him in that moment.

“Now what makes you say that?”

“He always talks about you when he’s here.”

So Mischief does visit him... Imagining Loki running around this playground with Timmy was kind of cute.

“I’ll bet it’s nothing good,” you joked.

Timmy shook his head, not understanding your jest. “It’s how nice you are. He said that you’re one of the only people here who isn’t mean to him.”

Well, that was kind of true. Just because he had been with the Avengers for so long did not mean everyone was going to be friendly with him. New York was a factor but his current demeanor towards “Midgardians” was enough to turn most people away.

“That doesn’t mean he... ‘like like’s me,” you grimaced. Speaking like this made you feel like you were in high school again.

“But he told me-” He clapped his hands over his mouth.

“Told you what?”

He shook his head, his hair slinging wildly.

“Timmy...” you warned.

“But I promised him I wouldn’t tell,” he admitted through his hands.

Knowing how important promises can be for children, you sighed, “Okay, okay. I won’t push it anymore.”

Relief flooded his tiny face as he relaxed. Looking up at the pinks and oranges seeping into the sky like paint with too much water, you pouted. “Alright, Buddy. Looks like we need to head inside.”

Timmy mirrored your pout, but ran to you and clutched your hand as you led him into the building.

Well, this was going to be a boring mission. You were going solo this time. Loki was with his brother off-world, so that meant you had no one but the pilot to chat with. Admittedly, Loki was quite the conversationalist when he wanted to be. It kept the trips to and from locations from growing stagnant, something you very much appreciated. Plus, you just liked hearing his alluring voice, even when he teased you just to see how flustered you would get. You were a little surprised with how much you missed him being around.

At least this was supposed to be quick. The newly-found HYDRA facility was about three hours away. Get in. Snag data. Go home. Intel showed it was small without many people there. Should be easy enough. But... Nothing is ever goes as smoothly as it should.

Glancing out the window as the Quinjet was landing, you noticed how close you were to the facility. In fact, you were a lot closer than you should have been.

“Sir?” You left your seat to confront the pilot. “What’s this about? This is a stealth mission. You’re going to give away-”

You had to jump back to avoid a punch. The pilot had left the controls to take care of you, gun in hand. Is this guy serious right now?! There was no way you were going to give this guy a chance to shoot you. You ducked low, charging him and rammed yourself at his stomach, elbow aimed for his solar plexus. With the wind knocked out of him, he stumbled backwards, grasping at anything that would keep him upright. Taking the opening, you used a seat near you as leverage to jump high enough to wrap your legs around his neck, using the momentum and gravity to swing yourself around to slam him into the ground (a nice little trick Nat so graciously taught you). The force to the metal flooring was enough to leave him unconscious.

Scrambling up, you formulated a quick plan in your head: Take off, secure this asshole and comm headquarters. You made the executive decision to end the mission early. If this guy was a double agent, then whoever was in the facility knew you were coming. You were making your way to the cockpit when you felt something sharp pierce your neck. Immediately, you yanked out what you found to be a dart, spinning around to see where it came from. At some point in your fight, the Quinjet had touched down and the ramp lowered. With your vision growing alarmingly blurry, you could barely make out the armed guards before everything faded black.

Your head was throbbing when you opened your eyes again. The room was dark with a cold, uninviting floor and thick metal bars in front. You tried to sit up, hoping the small change would alleviate your headache but failed. Your captors had secured your hands behind your back, rather tightly to be honest. The restraints were harshly cutting into your wrists while making it as awkward as possible to do anything from your position. Trying again, the muscles in your side seized up and your ribs screamed in agony, a groan falling from your throat.

“Oh look, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is awake.”

You flinched not having heard the footsteps leading to your cell. You kept your head on the concrete floor as you looked up at the dark figure leaning on the opposite side of the bars.

“Now,” he started as he unlocked the door and let himself in. “I am going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer them.” He nudged you with his foot. “Understand?”

Clenching your jaw, you pointedly looked away from him. Like hell. He just chuckled. The gritty sound reverberated off the walls.

“How cute. Your stubbornness won’t last long here.” The man began circling you slowly. “I know you are one of the agents who stole Subject 604.”

“You mean one of the agents who rescued a boy named Timmy,” you spat, earning you a hard blow to your back.

Hissing through your teeth, you rolled onto your stomach to relieve the pain of your bruising backside, but a foot pulled you back onto your side.

“Quite rude of you to interrupt,” he growled, moving to stand in front of you. “Now, all I want to know is where you have taken my test subject.”

“Hah,” you barked. “Like I’ll help some monster running experiments on children.”

A kick to your ribs and you curled in on yourself, coughing up the blood trying to take refuge in your lungs. He ripped you from the floor by your hair when a deafening alarm suddenly blared in the facility.

“You want a monster? Then, a monster you will have,” his hissed in your face before throwing you back down and leaving you in your cell to rot. You knew he’d be back later to finish what he started.

Biting back a pained moan, you pushed your head into the concrete floor, but the cold did little to soothe your pain. The alarm made sure of that, the tone causing your ears to faintly ring. You scooted yourself backwards against the wall and used it to help sit yourself upright. With that little bit of success, you rewarded yourself by closing your eyes and leaning against the wall. Now maybe you could think a little better so you could figure out a plan to get the hell out of there.

A low, familiar voice called your name, startling you to open your eyes. Had you blacked out again?

“By the Norns, you’re are alive,” a second booming voiced sounded off.

Maybe you were hallucinating. They weren’t supposed to be here. “Wha- Loki? Thor?”

Loki picked the lock open with his seiðr and rushed to you to release your bonds. “Let us leave this place, my little agent.” He spoke just loud enough for you to hear him over the alarms that were still roaring.

Gingerly scooping you into his arms, he strode back to Thor who was holding back the HYDRA agents who found you all there. He looked back at you and Loki over his shoulder. “Let’s go!” He threw his hammer down the hall, hitting the agents and forming a path.

Between Thor’s hammer and Loki’s seiðr, it didn’t take long for you all to convene with Captain America and Nat and make it to their Quinjet. The one you had taken for your mission was probably long gone. With everyone onboard, the pilot took off and navigated for headquarters.

Loki sat you down in a seat, giving you a once over to see where you were hurt with Nat giving her input. You probably had a concussion, cracked ribs and definitely a plethora of bruises. The best they could do at the moment was keep you comfortable without agitating the damage.

In one swift move, Loki picked you back up and placed you in his lap as he sat, holding you to his chest. Leaning into the embrace, you nuzzled up to him, too tired to notice the knowing looks earned from the rest of the team.

“I thought you were off-world,” you struggled to say, your voice barely breaking a whisper. Exhaustion was creeping up your limbs.

He rested a cheek on top of your head. “We were. We came back as soon as we learned you were missing. I thought I had lost you.”

Your mind grew foggy, slurring your words. “Nope... Not gettin’ rid of me so eas’ly...”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now sleep, my little agent.”

Traipsing through the jungle gym, you followed Timmy who was making his way to the monkey bars. He boldly hopped off the platform and latched onto one of the bars. As he swung himself forward, catching the next bar, you reached out for the closest one.

“Should you really be doing that, Dove?”

Loki was suddenly on the ground next to you.

“What? It’s just monkey bars.”

“You’ve only been out of the Med Bay for a week,” he deadpanned.

Huffing, you sat down on the platform, knowing you would not win this argument. “Fine. But you’re helping me down.”

He was already in front of you, ready to pull you into his arms. “With pleasure,” he smirked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You slid into his embrace and wrapped your arms around his neck. He just held you like that, staring into your eyes. You smiled and pressed your forehead to his. Although he thought it was cute, Loki had a better idea. He tilted his head and captured your lips instead which you all too willingly encouraged.

“Come on, you guys! It’s gonna get dark soon,” Timmy yelled to you, wanting you to follow him to the next jungle gym section.

With the moment shattered, Loki set you down and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead. You intertwined your fingers with his, pulling him along in Timmy’s direction. Both of you walked alongside the jungle gym and watched the ecstatic boy as he navigated the various obstacles.

“You know,” you began teasingly, leaning on Loki who hummed in response. “I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for rescuing me.”

“No... No, I don’t think you did,” he smirked mischievously.

You squeezed the hand you were holding. “What can I do to show my appreciation for your valiant efforts?”

“Hmm...” He looked at you with mock contemplation. “How about... You, my little agent, join me for dinner tonight?”

You nodded in agreement. “I’d love that.”

#loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x you #marvel #marvel avengers #the avengers #s.h.i.e.l.d.#loki imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki friggason #loki oneshot

256 notes · View notes

wornoutmouse · 3 years ago

Text

@midoriyaprofessionalslut

I can't even begin to describe the ask I received so I'm just going to leave screenshots😅😅

Also in the new mha season, I thought Tsu was being petty when she called Mineta Grape-Juice and Shoji Tentacle. But nope, those are their hero names.

Side note: I feel like when Mineta gets old and knows how to work his quirk better, he'll be able to control if they stick or not.

Slight racism, usual smut.

NOT PROOF READ SO LET ME KNOW IF U SEE SOMETHING

If you imagine Mineta as in the picture above and with a mature voice, this is more enjoyable. Or you can imagine someone else entirely.. Cause even as someone who's tolerant to Mineta I can't imagine him getting any hoes much less smashing (at least not on top). It would be like watching a chiwawa top a mastiff.

"This is some bullshit." You shuffle through various papers on your desk, each containing the receipts of Pro-Hero Grapejuice's celebratory purchases. Most of it was random appliances that could in no way be used on a day-to-day basis, but there were others….a shiver goes down your spine, there were others that were just downright perverted. "What even is a nub tickler?"

Being an accountant was something you were good at, the numbers came easy and it was interesting to see the income and ways of business that different people in power displayed. Planning meetings and getting the occasional phone call made everything a breeze, but it wasn't what you wanted to do. Or in better words, this was not whom you wanted to work for. Even being number 6 causes the workload to be higher than should be physically possible in the hero world. That's one of the reasons you never gave praise to the rankings because no matter how low in the chain, a hero’s work is always taxing.

Shifting in your seat you look at the analog clock on your desk. 3:45, you were supposed to come to work at 5:30 which means you once again have no time to sleep. Having these late nights had increased 10 fold whenever Mineta went up in rank even by a little. His way of celebrating was spending his money carelessly and leaving you to fix the balance. Though you supposed it may be your fault for never objecting when he barged in your office showing his trinkets as well as leaving his credit card.

"Yeah, it's time to go." You muttered as you read the words, "Dwarf Cow in the left lot of Wisconsin."

The next hour, you take a detour from your office for the first time in months. Heading down the hall you watch the walls go from the pale greys to deep purple and violet splotches splattered along the wall before it inevitably melds into solid purple walls as you get closer to the front door of his office.

Hesitantly you knock on the door and wait until a muffled "Come in." Rings through the thick wood. The room itself was just as flamboyant as the walls leading to it. A beautiful fuchsia carpet on the floor made you realize that calling in your two weeks would have been better than walking into the Willy-Wonka factory that was this office. Various spherical decorations hung from the chandelier, and even something as simple as the legs of his desk was made up of crystal spheres.

The man himself sat perfectly balanced on a large purple ball most likely of his own creation, meanwhile, various children sat around him slipping and sliding on smaller balls in an attempt to copy him. "Ah, here is my beautiful assistant!" The compliment made you cringe as you fiddled with the end of the sleep-wrinkled white blouse you had worn for 2 days straight. "Can we talk sir? It is important." Mineta raised an eyebrow at your formal speech before shrugging.

In an extravagant display of balance, Mineta does a handstand on the ball with one hand before flipping to the other side. "Well kids it's time for me to get done as a hero’s job is never over and blah blah blah the gift shop is giving out free plushies and you can keep your ball." The teacher does her best to usher out her students and the sound of childish screams resound down the hallway even though the door was shut. "How can I help you Y/n?" Mineta offers you his ball to sit on and you reluctantly take the offer as you grate in multiple directions in order to stay afloat.

Mineta watches you with hidden interest as he interlocks his hands underneath his chin. "I didn't know you even knew my name?" Mineta Laughs exposing his annoyingly perfect teeth. It was hard to associate this face to the pictures you see when you search for his early years. "Of course I know your name, I stole your nameplate off your desk 2 months ago." Ah, so that's where it went "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

You sighed, "I would like to put in my two weeks." Mineta goes slack-jawed before composing himself "Why?" Mineta looked at you earnestly, completely confused on why you'd want to abandon your post as his secretary- I mean assistant. "Working for you has become a hassle with your lack of financial maturity." Mineta mock shivers, "Oo big words, me no likey." Mineta hops onto his desk as if he weighed nothing more than paper and squats in front of you, "How about this, you don't quit and instead help me learn how to...how did you say it? Be financially mature." You lean back in your chair unconvinced that he was taking this seriously.

With the final nail ready to be hit, Mineta adds, "How about I give you a raise of 10 percent and a promotion?" You stand up in your chair with an eager grin, "That sounds great!" Mineta smirks to himself but you did not pay any mind to it. "Great, how about we discuss this over food, dinner date?" Your internal celebration screeches to a halt, " Dinner Date-" Mineta looks at you shocked, "Dinner date? Great idea, why didn't I think of it myself!?" A firm hand slides you towards the door as Mineta starts a complimentary speech giving you no room to object, "This is why I need you, you're so smart, I wish I was like you, tomorrow at 11?" You sputter trying to slip past his arms, "11 but I-?!" Mineta loudly gasps again, "There you go doing it again I'm so lucky to have you, tomorrow at 11 my treat!"

The door is shut in your face and the sound of the lock clicking seals your fate. What did you get into?

Cut to 4 years later and you are still not sure of that answer. Simply being bis accountant you had a glimpse of his perverted tendencies, but as his girlfriend, it was further exposed to depths you never could have found yourself imagining. You shuffle papers in the printing room as you do your best to ignore the faint tingling sensation in between your legs. Yet another whim you found yourself following on Mineta’s behalf despite the ever-present fear of being caught. The vibrator comes to life before going back down as quickly as it came. You toss a middle finger to the camera in the top corner of the room knowing he was watching.

"Miss L/n, can I ask you something?" You slap your arm down to your side in embarrassment. I hope he didn't see that. Your coworker walks up to you holding a small stack of papers. "Yes, how can I help you?" The man shows you various forms as he talks, for once you were thankful for Mineta not embarrassing you in front of others. "Oh I see where you went wrong, this right here would be a 20% increase, not 18%." The man applauded you and graciously wrote down your explanation. "Thank you so much, my name is Kaminari by the way."

"Ah hello, Kaminari, and no worries I'm always glad to help!" You turn back as your papers finally scan through but can't help notice Kaminari lingering. "Say Y/n?" You open your mouth to respond only to close it again as the vibratory comes back to life strongly. "Hmmm?!" Kaminari peers at you, your reaction was strange but he couldn't figure out why. "Um, never mind, have a nice day Miss. Y/n, maybe we can get together over coffee or something?” You shrug turning away from Kaminari in fear of your eyes rolling up. The man sways from foot to foot awkwardly before leaving the printing room.

Snapping out of your personal flashback, you look over at your fiance signing autographs for his adoring and objectively feminine fan base. While it was extremely unnerving how unknowingly close they were to your home, you weren't resentful of their gushing.

Your engagement and your overall relationship had not been made public in fear of your personal life being exploited by paparazzi. That doesn't mean, however, the next thing you witness doesn't get your blood boiling.

A girl, no older than maybe 22 waltzes up to Mineta with the confidence of Muhammad Ali in a ring match. Her raven black hair fell flawlessly down her back with not a single split end. Almond eyes decorated with precise coal blink rapidly to draw attention to her seemingly natural eyelashes. With 4 inch wedges. a black halter top, and cuffed jean shorts, it was clear she was someone on a mission. She effortlessly pushes past the nearby fans as they stop to quack at her rivaling beauty. A smirk draws itself with her soft pink lips as she hears people muttering around and about her.

"Wow she's so pretty"

"They would look good together just look at them."

"Ugh, such an attention whore, not giving the rest of us a chance!"

"I bet a 20 she's his type."

"Is she famous?"

The chatter comes to a close as the girl hands Mineta a notebook, "Can you sign right here?" Mineta flips open the book and his eyes widen a fraction before he puts on his heroic voice, "Wow it looks like you got all of Japan's heroes in this book!" The girl smiles as she watches Mineta scratch his signature, "Don't be afraid to leave your number in there too Mr. Minoru." Mineta pauses at the statement for continuing his elaborate handwriting, "I don't think that would be very plus ultra of me so I'm gonna have to pass." Smug pride fills your chest as you watch the annoyance cross the girl's face.

Mineta finishes signing and hands her back her book, she, in turn, forces a small piece of paper in his hand before holding his chin and kissing him. At that moment nothing else mattered but beating that bitches ass as you yanked her black hair and dragged her to the ground. "This ain’t Wattpad bitch get your hands off of him!!" You turn to Mineta making him flinch with a sharp glare as you yank her hair again, hopefully pulling a few strands out. "You just gonna let her kiss you and not do anything!?" Mineta stretched his hands towards you cautiously, "Y/n calm down, if you would have given me a chance I would have settled it-" "No, settle it now!"

Your rage is diminished by the judgmental looks coming from the fans and you realize your brazen display was out of order.

"Who is she"

"I think she's the secretary l, so why is she so mad"

"Delusional just cause you're with him all the time doesn't mean you're together"

"I hope he fires her."

"This is why we shouldn't let them in Japan"

The girl whose hair you have in a chokehold stands up unbalanced before pushing your hands from her hair. Satisfied at the disheveled look of her previously perfect strands, you turn to walk back to Mineta, your anger having been sated, "Black Bitch." You turn around and go charging towards the girl again grinning when she flinches. Your rampage is stopped as Mineta wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, "Sorry for the disturbance, we deeply apologize!"

It's almost comical how your mouth spews vulgarity that would make a sailor blush as Mineta drags you behind your apartment building. He ushers you through the back door leading to the washroom, "I can't believe she'd do that in front of me, and you let her!" Mineta shuts the door quietly, leaning his ear against it to listen out for any lingering fans. You sit on top of a washer still ranting as your blood cools down. "The nerve of some of these people is outrageous, even if she doesn't know about us that is still sexual harassment!"

Mineta doesn't look at you and instead peeks through the blinds lining the washroom windows. "I think they are gone, come on." The two of you sneak out the door and walk at a moderate speed all the way back to your front door. In hindsight, you knew that causing a scene like that was a bold move on your part. If anyone was recording the whole ordeal you knew Mineta’s name and possibly yours would be in the headlines by later this evening.

As the last one entering, you lock the door behind you, forehead scrunched together with apprehension. "Mineta I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. I just saw her touching you and saw red." You face away from the door with an earnest look on your face. Mineta has a cheeky look on his face that can only mean trouble. Despite your similar slim build and height, Mineta easily corners you against the door. "I know exactly what got into you." Mineta’s pointer finger taps your nose. "Jealousy."

You sighed, putting your head down nodding, "Yeah, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just-" "shhh." Mineta lips your head back up with a hand under your chin. "It's fine Y/n. It's not like I expected a perfect little cocksleeve like you to be okay with sharing." You stare blinkingly at Mineta. 'Oh, he's in one of those moods huh?' As expected from such a fiend like Mineta, he was quite possibly hard the whole time he was watching you beat that girl's ass, and for some reason that irked you even more. “Mineta I’m being serious.” The words leaving your mouth did not phase Mineta, he holds your hips and pulls you close to him in order for you to feel his bulge.

“Oh come on, after seeing you be so possessive for me, how can you not expect me to be a lil turned on?” Mineta’s hands circle your ass before slapping it, “Made me feel special.” Rolling your eyes you lean into the lingering kisses he begins to leave on your shoulder. His grip tightens as he shuffles you to the nearest surface. “Makes me feel all giddy inside to know that you do this only for me and no one else.” Minoru unbuttons your dress pants and removes your belt, “But doing that in front of all those people was stupid.” A shiver travels up your arms from the feeling of lips caressing your ear. Mineta dips his hand into your cotton panties and immediately draws attention to your clit.

“Look at me, Mineta Minoru with a girl like you that would fight for me. Who would have thought?” You ball your fists on the table, hanging your head low. “You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?” Mineta slips his other hand beneath your blouse to cup your breasts. Short l rub down your slit collecting your slick. The feeling was warm and buzzing just underneath your skin, the bastard was well trained on how to slowly but surely bring your pleasure to its peak and hold you there. Your muscles begin to feel more and more like jelly, you sigh “Oh God..” Mineta pushed his body further on yours, rutting against your body. Up until now, his other hand was simply resting on your skin but once impatience overcame him, he used it to pull down your pants.

“You know this will be in articles tomorrow right?” Two fingers curl inside of you making you squeal, “Y-Yes!” Something hard and slick smacks against your bare ass as Mineta removes the bottom half of his hero costume. “So how are you going to compensate me for what I’ll have to deal with tomorrow?” You turn your head to the back with a small pout on your face, “She shouldn’t have touched you.” Mineta coyly smiles before pressing your head down against the table. “You should have let me handle it.”

Mineta was an average of 5 inches in length with conservative girth. But so far he’s been the only man that really added proof that size doesn’t matter. Mineta pulls away from you and leans down to riffle through his pants. You hear a crisp pop of a cap being opened and a slick splatter is heard afterward. A shaky breath leaves Mineta’s lips as he lubes his cock up. Penetrating is a struggle at first, the longer it takes for him to push it in the more both of you become frustrated until he finally pulls your waist back against himself. “S-So good!” The pleasure causes his childhood lisp to slip through as he waits for you to acclimate to the stretch.

You shift your feet when Mineta refrains from moving. "Tsk, you really don't understand the meaning of patience do you?" Your hands suddenly become cool to the touch as Mineta covers them with medium sized spheres temporarily gluing you to the table. "Mineta this isn't fair! Please just a little bit to the left!" Now having you helpless Mineta puts one hand on your back while stroking the base of his cock. "It's not about being fair, it is about teaching a sneaky brat like you to know their place." Mineta begins to move but it's not right, he needs to go more to the left, "Mineta what are you even talking about!?!"

A sigh leaves Mineta's lips, "Don't think I forgot about that slick shit you tried to pull with Kaminari." Mineta watches your ad shake and bounce everytime your hips meet. Your arms twitch and pull at themselves wanting to find purchase on the flat surface. Groans leave your lips as Mineta comes closer to hitting your spot, "Slick shit?! Y-You're the one that wanted to do that stupid little piano in the first place!" You couldn't see it but Mineta had a deep seated glare on his face. He loops his fingers underneath his yellow scarf and rolls it around long ways.

"I'm really tierd of your mouth. What you think because I let you beat that girl out their I'll let you beat me?" The middle of the scarf is put in your mouth and your head is pulled back by it. Mineta holds both ends of the scarf to slam into your cunt. "Just a greedy little bitch aren't you?" You scream into the cloth as Minetas cock finally hits your spot just right. The constant pulling on the corner of your mouth burned everytime the fabric rubbed against the sensitive flesh. Your feet rise to your toes in a fruitless attempt at getting a break from the pleasure. Mineta holds his scarf in one hand and pushes down your waist. "Didnt you want this? Don't run from it now."

Your pussy squelched around his cock the faster he went making you go cross eyed. "Fuck you feel so damn good. The table rattled and scraped across the floor with every thrust. "oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Your nails scraped the table as you closed your fist, had you had claws it would have been a whole different story. You beared down on his cock, trying, begging to feel more inside of your walls as he moved faster. Suddenly your argument fel worth it.

Mineta knew many things about himself. He knew his birthday, he knew where he was in life, and he knew he had come 6 minutes ago and was bordering hysteria as he pumped his overestimated cock into your wet heat. Each drag made years collect in his eyes. Tiny whimpers left his lips and his hands squeezed your sides harder and hard. "So fucking warm. Squeezing down on my dick like that."

He bowed his head and rested on your back, kissing the sweaty skin as he pushed through the painful pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mineta slaps your ass before pulling out and shoving his fingers inside your pussy. "Cum for me, Y/n. That's it cum on my hands." Mineta's fingers were the only thing that never really grew on him. They were relatively short but thick so even three of them were able to stretch your hole the way you needed.

"Y-Yes, right there shit!" Your cum drips down his arm soiling the fabric there as you squint around him, "That's it give it to me." Mineta buried his face in your pussy licking you clean like a man starved. It wasn't until you whined did he stop and pull his fingers out.

Luckily for you, his spheres were just about coming close to their time constraint. You stand up rubbing your wrists and drinking some water Mineta brings you. A snort captures your attention and Mineta holds up his phone, "Not even an hour." Writing in thick bold words read.

"Obsessive Secretary Snaps on Camera!"

You snort, "I'm the obsessive one huh?" It was going to be a long day tomorrow

53 notes · View notes