#they probably stand above that but come on

[kateschi]

don't make it weird

synopsis: you fix things. he breaks things. somehow, this feels like the beginning of a very complicated maintenance schedule.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!support!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i CAN'T with this man i love him

the door slams open hard enough to rattle the tools hanging on the wall.

you don’t look up right away.

mostly because you’re elbow-deep in the exposed wiring of a damaged support item, but also because you’ve worked in this repair shop long enough to recognize the type.

heavy boots thud against the worn floor. there’s the distinct scent of burnt fabric, metal, and something sharper—nitroglycerin.

it’s a pro hero. and a pissed-off one, by the sound of it.

“oi.”

you sigh, wiping your forehead with the back of your wrist before finally glancing up.

and there he is—bakugou katsuki, standing in the middle of your shop like he owns the place, shoulders squared, posture tense.

he’s still in his full hero gear, minus the gauntlets, which he holds in one hand.

they’re charred, the inner mechanisms partially exposed, the reinforced metal plating dented in places you’re not sure should even be possible.

he shoves them onto the counter with a thud, red eyes locked onto yours.

“can you fix ‘em?”

you lean back against your workbench, wiping grease-streaked hands on your coveralls as you take him in fully.

he’s scowling like someone just insulted his entire bloodline, arms tense, jaw set. there’s a thin cut just above his brow, a smear of soot along his cheekbone.

you doubt he even noticed.

you, on the other hand, are just exhausted.

“you’re bakugou, right?”

his eye twitches. “obviously.”

“then you should know your gauntlets aren’t exactly easy to repair.” you tilt your head, dragging your fingers over the jagged edges of the damage. “who worked on ‘em before?”

bakugou crosses his arms. “support team at my agency.”

“uh-huh. and they kicked you out, didn’t they?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw, which is all the confirmation you need.

you exhale sharply through your nose, finally pulling his gloves toward you for a closer look. the weight is familiar in your hands, but the extent of the damage isn’t something you see every day.

“gonna take a while,” you tell him, rolling your shoulders before reaching for your tools. “come back in a few days.”

bakugou scoffs, a sharp, irritated sound. “the hell kinda shop is this? don’t you people do rush orders?”

“I do if I like the customer.” you flash a too-sweet smile, tapping a finger against the metal casing. “you’re not there yet.”

his scowl deepens, fingers twitching at his sides. for a second, you think he’s going to argue, but then he just clicks his tongue and turns on his heel.

the door slams behind him.

you shrug and get to work.

two days later, the bell above the shop door jingles violently, more from force than necessity. the entrance swings open with enough momentum that it nearly slams against the wall.

you don’t bother looking up because you already know who it is.

heavy bootsteps echo across the floor, purposeful and impatient.

the smell of burnt fabric and faint nitroglycerin lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of oil and metal shavings.

you keep your eyes on your workbench.

“shop’s closed,” you say, voice even, fingers steady as you adjust the wiring on a half-repaired gauntlet.

“don’t care.”

of course he doesn’t.

you finally glance up, finding bakugou katsuki standing in the middle of your shop like he owns the place. his gauntlets—still charred, still in desperate need of repair—hang at his sides.

his eyes are locked onto you.

you nod toward the stool in the corner. “sit there and shut up.”

he grumbles something under his breath—probably about your damn attitude—but he listens, dropping onto the stool with a barely contained huff.

you feel him before you see him. it’s like sitting next to a live wire.

he’s not a man built for stillness, and it shows—the way his fingers drum impatiently against his thigh, the restless flex of his arms, the slight bounce of his knee.

minutes stretch between you, the only sounds filling the room being the quiet hum of machines and the precise clicks of your tools.

then—

“how the hell did you end up doin’ this anyway?”

you pause, fingers tightening around a wrench before shifting slightly to glance at him over your shoulder.

“you mean fixing broken things for stubborn heroes?”

his eye twitches. “s’not what I meant.”

a lazy shrug. “I like making things. always have. didn’t wanna be a hero, but I still wanted to help.”

bakugou hums lowly, head tilting slightly, like he’s actually thinking about it.

which is impressive, considering patience isn’t exactly his strong suit.

another stretch of silence follows, longer this time.

then—

“they done?”

you click your tongue. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

the words spill out before your brain catches up.

and the moment they do—

you freeze.

across the room, bakugou stiffens like a live grenade, head snapping toward you so fast you half expect to hear a crack. his eyes widen, flickering with something unreadable—shock, maybe? amusement?

you’re not looking close enough to find out.

you clear your throat, face heating. “I meant your gloves are cute. functional. whatever.”

a slow shift.

his lips curve, the corners twitching upward into something dangerous, something smug.

“you think I’m cute?”

“no.”

he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, amusement flickering behind his eyes. “you just said—”

“I said the gloves—”

“uh-huh.”

“shut up.”

his smirk widens, but—for once—he doesn’t push further.

and when you finally hand over his gloves, he flexes his fingers, testing the fit, and grunts.

“not bad.”

which, coming from him, might as well be high praise.

he keeps coming back after that.

sometimes his gauntlets are actually broken. other times, you’re almost positive he just finds an excuse to show up.

a busted strap here, a dent there—things that a hero like him could fix himself if he really wanted to. but he doesn’t. instead, he plants himself in your shop, arms crossed, shoulders squared like he belongs there.

you don’t call him out on it.

mostly because it’s kind of nice having him around.

not that you’d admit it.

one afternoon, he leans against your counter, his weight making it creak slightly under him.

his arms are crossed, biceps straining against the fabric of his black tee, and his gaze is unreadable—steady, but not as sharp as usual.

like he’s thinking too much about something.

“oi.” his voice cuts through the quiet hum of your workspace. “you ever take breaks?”

you blink up at him from behind the goggles perched on your head, adjusting the strap absentmindedly. “what?”

“you’re always here.” his brows pull together slightly, a crease forming between them. he looks almost… annoyed. “you ever get out?”

you snort, grabbing a screwdriver and turning back to your work. “and do what? go on a date?”

there’s a pause.

a long one.

the air shifts, charged in a way that makes your fingers tighten around the tool in your hand.

you frown, glancing up just in time to catch the way his jaw clenches.

his gaze flickers across your face, something unreadable swirling in his red eyes before he schools his expression again.

“…you got a problem with that?”

you arch a brow, waiting, watching. “you got a problem if I do?”

his scowl deepens, and his weight shifts slightly, like he’s uncomfortable. his fingers flex against his bicep, a sign of irritation—or hesitation, maybe.

“no. just figured you’d be too busy fixin’ shit for idiots heroes.”

you tilt your head, smirking slightly. “so you admit you’re an idiot?”

he clicks his tongue, sharp and quick. “I am not one of them. plus, that ain’t the damn point.”

“then what is the point, bakugou?”

his gaze snaps back to yours.

there’s something behind his eyes now—determined, stubborn, a little reckless. his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something, but he hesitates, just for a fraction of a second.

and then—

“you got plans tonight?”

your brain short-circuits.

you open your mouth, then close it, blinking. “you asking me on a date?”

he exhales sharply, like he’s already regretting this, like you’re the one making things complicated. “I’m askin’ if you wanna grab dinner. don’t make it weird.”

you stare at him for a second, screwdriver still clutched in your hand, the weight of his words settling in the small space between you.

it’s not exactly romantic.

but, somehow, it’s so him.

your lips twitch, amusement bubbling up despite the way your heart has decided to trip over itself. “alright, dynamight. you’re paying.”

bakugou scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s something almost…relieved in the way his shoulders relax a fraction. “yeah, yeah. hurry up.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[princesssmars]

thinking of this escape the butch vi fanart. a Lot.

nsfw. fem!reader. roleplaying + rough sex. very light degradation mixed with praise. also inspired by that dbd clip of ghostface and the survivor under him...yeah. penetrative strap-on sex (r!receiving). recorded sex.

wc : 1.954

"come on pretty girl, you said you wanted this, right? so go on and smile for the camera."

like every other story, the erotic memory of your girlfriend pounding you into your carpet actually had a rather sweet beginning.

see, you were a fan of horror movies. slashers, body horror, psychological, just name it and you've probably watched it. most of your friends found it odd, always declining when you'd invite them to catch a late night showing of a new flick.

oh but not your vi. whenever you were absolutely dying to see the hottest new horror in theaters, you knew it'd only take a phone call and playful begging for her to pull up on her motorcycle and whisk you away to the big screen.

you couldn't ask for a girlfriend who understood your passion better. but maybe this time you were...a little too passionate.

it really started when the next big slasher hit theaters, a solid hit with the at first glance simple plot of a psychotic butcher chasing down. a group of college kids who mistakenly stumbled into his shop. everywhere you went people were raving about it, gassing up the style, the characters, the gore, saying it'd be one of the next greats. so of course you wanted to be there opening weekend comfy in a reclining seat with an overpriced popcorn in one hand and a way too big soda in the other.

so of course luck would have it that you randomly fell sick that weekend, stuck in bed with a crazy fever. then the weekend after that a giant storm left you no choice but to cancel your plans, then next week your car had troubles-

safe to say, you were incredibly thankful that theaters quickly gave up on films and sent them to streaming. while you were upset you wouldn't get the full theater experience, when vi recommended an at home movie night date you couldn't pass it up.

and so there you were, snuggled in a comfy pajama set with a bowl of popcorn on your coffee table as you curled up into the side of your butch. you loved the movie, but most of all you loved the killer. a simple yet oh so intimidating design, you admired the bloodied butcher as it dropped a meat cleaver into another unlucky victim.

"jesus, those reviews weren't kidding." vi whispered under her breath, eyes wide and face bright from the colors of the screen.

you gently jabbed your elbow into her side, "aww, don't tell me your scared, baby."

"oh you wish. this movie is great, i've already got my next halloween costume down."

it was...inexplicable, the reaction you had. it was almost like your brain short circuited, rebooting until the only thing you could seen in your mind was vi, your sweet strong and incredibly built girlfriend standing above you in the same costume on screen.

okay, maybe it was explainable - it made you horny. but to be fair, you were shocked at it yourself. you'd heard of some girls thirsting over numerous masked and sinister killers in horror, but you'd never felt any such attraction.

but now your imaging vi in that way, able to see her chasing you down so clearly it makes your heart race.

and of course she noticed, because your love noticed everything about you. her eyes drifted across your face, noticing how your wide eyes were tracked on the screen like it was your job, how you licked and bit your lips and took in stuttered breaths.

and oh, did she revel in it.

she didn't bring it up again until that yearly costume party was creeping around the corner, and she tried not to laugh when you not so suavely suggested that you might as well dress up as the final girl from the movie, for consistency purposes of course.

she also had to hide her smugness seeing your reaction to her stepping out in the costume for the first time. she could see your eyes trailing over her bar arms, the fake (and edible, for reasons) blood decorating her skin and the brown leather apron that stretched across her torso. if she didn't have a plan for you that night, she would have said screw the party and taken you on the couch at the drop of her plastic meat cleaver. but of course, good things come to those who wait.

but waiting doesn't mean behaving. she acted properly during the first few hours of the party, posing for pictures with your mutual friends and taking delight in eating the themed goodies laid out. but it wasn't long until she started to tease, coming up behind you and wrapping you in her arms, biting her lip when she could subtly feel you relaxing in her arms before trying to push yourself back into her.

it got to the point where she just had to take pity on you, with only a few more touches and hidden squeezes bringing out your clinginess as you practically glued yourself to her side, arms wrapped around her bicep as you stared up at her with those eyes you just knew she couldn't resist.

as soon as you stepped into the doorway of your house she was on you, hands squared on your shoulders as she pushed you into the wall behind you, her hips pushing into yours in just the right way that you swore you'd lose your mind.

"oooh, someone's eager huh? y'know, i had a feeling you were always into roleplay, but i couldn't imagine this -"

"vi, c'mon, please. just, j-just -" you whined, half out of arousal and half out of embarrassment at being so.

"just what, huh pretty? tell me what you want and ill give it to you."

you bite your lip, eyes darting to the side as you debated on if you were really ready to go that far. but then one of her gloved hands is coming up to your face, a finger pulling your lip out of your hold. its only when you see her blue eyes zero in on a spot beneath your face that you know she left a trail of the fake blood, both of your breaths hitching in your throats.

"do you...do you still have that camcorder in your closet?"

"oh my god, oh my god, 'h my...god!"

you don't register the woman above you loud laughing at your moans, nor do you pick up on the handheld camera still recording every reaction om your face. all you can focus on is the absolutely debilitating pressure in your cunt, your girlfriend's strap down right splitting you open as she fucks you almost like she hates you. the thought sends a shiver down your spine, drawing out more mewls that are muffled by the plush of your rug when your head plops onto the ground before one of her hands is wrapping in your hair and tugging you up, not wanting to miss even a second of you.

"god damn, who knew i'd get this pretty little slut alll to myself tonight, huh?" she grunts, a yellow glove digging into the dip of your back to make you arch even more for her, to take everything she's giving you.

like you had a choice. not that you really want one, anyway.

"aww, poor baby keeps drifting out of it. maybe i should take pity on her and stop -"

her fake pouting rings in your brain and is followed by her hips slowing down, her strap starting to slip out of you before you thrust yourself back into her, letting out a moan do loud if you weren't so far gone you'd be mortified, but at the moment you cant find it in yourself to care.

"n-no! no no no no please don't stop, 'can take it, promise." you intermittently thrust your hips back as you whine, even looking back and up at her and trying your best at the puppy eyes she seems to always do so well, eager to do anything if it means she'll keep fucking you.

and when you gaze up at her looking like that, big round eyes complemented by ruined makeup, your kissed and bitten tits hanging out of your costume top right in the view of the camera, not to mention the slightest glimpse of her strap peeking out from the end of the curve of your ass, how on earth could she even think of not giving in to you?

most of the time she would drag this out, edge you until you were begging and crying for her just to brush a hand over your thigh. but maybe tonight she'll go easy on you, just because she's feeling nice.

so she sets the camcorder a the perfect angle on the table, grips both of your hips in her palms, and starts to absolutely wreck your world.

she truly cant wait for when she'll be watching this footage back over with you later, how you'll groan and push at her out of embarrassment when you witness just how desperate you are in this moment, meeting each one of her thrusts with a vigor she hasn't yet seen and moaning so loudly she's sure you'll be receiving a message from your landlord in the morning.

and she knows in the future you'll be pestering her too, because just in the crack of the constant plaplaplap! of your hips and the gorgeous ass noises slipping from between your lips she can hear herself, too, strained little grunts and cut off growls of "so perfect, so damn perfect for me," and "takin it so well, god, knew you wouldn't run from this-"

her hand yet again comes up to you, only this time wrapping around your neck to arch you even further back for her to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, cold fake blood smearing over your mouths. it's only when you blink up at her and see her smiling while licking the blood off of her lips that you cum, sight going white as you clamp down so hard on to her strap she struggles to keep fucking you through it as she carries both of you through your shared moments of bliss.

its a sweet silence as you both come down from your highs, your body relaxing into the carpet before she gently slips the toy from inside you and off of her hips, quickly turns off the camcorder and maneuvers you both on to the couch, pulling a blanket over you as you settle into the softness of her chest.

vi is the first to break the silence, pressing a plethora of sweet kisses to your head, "so, how did you like it?"

"ugh, don't make me answer, you already know." you groan, digging your head into her shoulder in a pitiful attempt to escape her teasing.

"cmonnn, wont make fun of you, i promise. i wouldn't mind doing this again, y'know."

"...seriously?"

"hell yeah, that was...a lot more fun than i expected. maybe next time i could...i dont know, chas you through the woods or something. just an idea."

of course you notice just how quickly she came up with the idea, and of course she notices how your breath hitches the same way hers does.

[puck-luck]

Happy 1 year!!!! I can't believe it's been a year already wowee, which also means I've been reading your fics for 10 months-ish, and that's insane to me (I don't remember when I started following tho, may have been around late July or early August). BUT IT'S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR!!

I'd like to order a mocha with peppermint (best friends to lovers) and cinnamon (size difference) for Luke Hughes??? (lmao whats new)

I ask the same thing every time I know, I'm sorry I just love a good size kink/difference😭

we r in it for the long haul, meg. i am so appreciative of your continued friendship, love, and support <3 i am always happy to write luke with a size kink for you :)

note: this is mocha ish because it's their first time being like this? i'm realizing it's kind of hard to make every requested mocha super deep and meaningful so they're all going to be meaningful in different ways, big and small :))

“Come on,” Luke hisses. His brothers and friends have mostly abandoned the bonfire in the backyard, thinking they spotted a deer near the water and chased after it. He grabs your hand and pulls you toward the house. “Come on, come on.”

You laugh. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere they won’t find us,” Luke plots in a low voice. You make your way inside the house, then go to Luke’s secret hidden spot– the pantry. It’s a very well-kept, entirely classified spot.

At least, it is when Luke hinges the lock that he installed.

He snickers, nose scrunched up as he towers above you. He bends into your space as you giggle with him. 

You and Luke have been having a lot more moments like these since he invited you to the lakehouse for two weeks this summer. It was hard the first couple of days, since you hadn’t met Luke’s brothers or his friends yet. They’re busy and they don’t really visit Michigan that often during the school year, so you and Luke have had plenty of time to get close. You consider him to be your best friend and he says that you’re his, but he makes you swear not to tell Dylan or his brothers. 

“What should we do now that we escaped the boys?” you whisper. Your back is against the food-lined shelves and Luke is in front of you. The pantry is nearly dark, save for the slats on the door that allow some light to shine in, and you’re in the mood to do something completely crazy. It probably has something to do with the thrill of sneaking away without getting caught and hiding in close quarters with someone who you know so well. 

If you’re not mistaken, Luke’s eyes flicker to your lips for a split second. His gaze comes back to yours, but you caught him. His giggle grows quiet, then stops altogether. His lips part imperceptibly, a quick inhale making his throat bob like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. He stares at you, then his vision dips again.

You’re not sure if you can believe what you’re seeing. “Luke…?” you trail off, tilting your head to the side. 

“I…” Luke starts. He closes the gap between you slightly, hand coming up to the shelf above your head and resting there. He shakes his head and leaves his trance. “Sorry, I, uh… lost my train of thought. What was the question?”

A smile tugs at your lips involuntarily. “I asked what we should do,” you repeat. You look up at Luke, who is still leaning over you, and your hands twitch with the urge to tug him closer and have his body blanket yours. It’s just crazy enough for the adrenaline running through your veins. You hadn’t put much effort into thinking about Luke like that before, or wondering what it would be like to kiss him, trying to prioritize your friendship. In this cramped space with Luke’s heat radiating off his body and permeating your space, you find yourself following Luke’s lead and letting your line of sight slip to his lips. 

The curve of his Cupid’s bow is so severe. It’s cartoonish almost, how it rises and dips and rises again. With him standing over you like this, you want nothing more than to rise on your tiptoes and tug him down to your level and take that lip between yours. 

When you look into Luke’s eyes again, you can see a slight battle raging. He’s stuck between knowing that you just looked at his lips with purpose, the same way he looked at yours, and not wanting to mess things up between you. You know that’s how he’s feeling because you’re feeling similarly, although you’re more leaning towards the “fuck it” option.

“Can I…” Luke murmurs. His mouth forms the question more than it actually verbalizes it and since you’re staring again, you see the yearning there. 

“Luke,” you whisper, tilting your chin up to make it easier for him to meet you there. 

The first kiss is sweet. It’s soft. Luke brings a hand to your waist like you’re something that will break at his gentle touch. 

It’s you who deepens it, who is the first to part their lips and invite the other in for more. It’s you who relishes in the way you’re almost straining to reach Luke’s mouth. You’re the one who touches his curls and has him bend even further down if he wants to keep kissing you– which he does. 

Like a pair of addicts, it’s impossible to break from the kiss. Now that you’ve started, you just can’t stop kissing each other.

Luke brings his palms to the backs of your thighs and lifts you, your legs automatically looping around his waist. He pushes you against the back wall of the pantry, where there are no shelves to get in your way, and he continues to kiss you. His tongue dances along your lips, testing the waters and seeing if it���s okay to take this next step, and you moan and open your mouth further to grant permission. 

You don’t realize how Luke is rutting against you until he breaks the kiss and leaves a wet, open-mouthed trail down the side of your neck, finally biting over your pulse point and panting over your skin. When you do, you suddenly can feel that he isn’t just big height-wise– his cock might split you apart if you ever get the chance to lay in his bed and take it. You’re salivating at the thought, but distracted by Luke’s broken groan. 

The next realization is how wet you are, then how titillating it is when Luke’s bulge catches on the seam of your jean shorts. 

Your hands fly into his hair and fingers weave through the curls. “Lukey,” you whimper, arching your back off the wall and pushing into his grinding hips.

 “Sorry, I just–” Luke apologizes breathlessly, voice higher than it usually is.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you admonish with a frown, tugging his hair until he lifts his head to look at you. “Don’t.”

“Okay,” Luke agrees. His cheekbones are flush and red and it’s so cute, even in the dark you cal tell, that he’s blushing. His lips brush against yours from mere proximity and you take it upon yourself to seal them together again and taste his desperation.

The only time you part now is for a hushed whisper here and there, a bit of praise or compliment leaving you or a curse and plead leaving Luke. You’re really saying the same things back and forth– “So good, Luke, oh my God,” and “Hm, fuck, you feel so good, gonna come”– but the difference in your tones is what sets them apart. 

You’ve just released a “please, Luke, I want to feel you,” when the door of the pantry rattles and Luke freezes. He’s completely blocking your body with his, so if the tiny lock he installed doesn’t hold up, no one will be able to see you. Another thrill passes through you– he’s so big. Imagine all the possibilities…

Though, there’s no avoiding what you’re doing when the boy breaking into the pantry realizes Luke is in there, or when Luke stumbles over his words trying to explain how you “felt tired and went to bed.” The friend at the door just laughs and says “Sure, man,” before walking away.

Luke is blushing again and he hides in your neck, too embarrassed to continue. That’s okay, though. You’ve still got a few more days at the house and your first time seeing Luke come should probably be in the light, right? And maybe not in a cramped pantry where anyone could hear you…

[exbotmallow]

one day i hope the others will realise that green actually has no leader, and tr!bad only plays into it because everyone else has already put him into that position. if everyone saw tr!pangi that way they'd probably send him, because green thinks they'll only respect whatever authority they perceive. and hopefully on that day they'll also realise that green really are individuals who only vow to understand each other, not that every effort they do is a joint effort.

[green + 99% bbh-centric, really, reallllyyy, like ridiculously long analysis post]

[now with added side commentary for the commentary im already making LMAO]

[no genuinely this is so long i just have so much to say and i just spew it here instead of making friends LMAO im so sorry]

[no like genuinely this is a warning its so long like 20 paragraphs its sad SKJDFHDJKS]

today was not green's moment — it was tr!owens.

that matters cause it was tr!owens attemt to cement his legacy. and yes, he had support in that through green, but it was just tr!owen's moment. yet, for some (mostly understandable from yellow's perspective) reason, everyone wants to kill tr!bad, cause tr!bad is "green leader" and these were the actions of "green faction" — despite the fact that tr!bad tried to make it clear he was warning tr!foolish (and was silently willing to step in, even if they didnt know that bit) — and "he" made this decision cause they percieved it that way.

green have blatantly said that they have no leader, and that all individuals support each other but are responsible for all their own actions individually, but yet have been met with nothing but sarcastic "okay's" and being told that they simply dont want to take accountability. tr!bad being told he is a cruel leader who manipulated people into being under him, and to the rest, they're told that they are working under someone cruel on purpose, refusing to see his evil or deciding to be evil on purpose. ¹

the reality is, first tr!pangi saw tr!bad all alone and did him that kindness of not letting him be alone, because even someone who is wrong or scary doesn't deserve isolation. the rest trickled in — all for their own reasons, whether it was because of tr!bad offering to help them grow strong and stable or because of previous experiences surrounding monarchy, or feeling supposed disingenuous feeling from yellow, or otherwise. even joining because they preferred chaos and saw comfort in a faction they wouldn't judge them for it and would even back them up if they wanted.

now, while green may have come together to support each other, they also are honest with esch other in a way that yellow doesn't understand. they are upfront about the fact that they won't support EVERYTHING they do, and are honest about being willing to not only refrain from supporting each other, but willing to lie, deceive, and even kill each other. yellow can't and likely never will understand this, because they all come from a place of favouring kindness above neutrality or even understanding a need for malice or safety from a place of fear. when everything can be nice and sunshine and rainbows if everyone works just a little harder for it, it's hard to understand why someone who perhaps is even peaceful might want to hide behind someone who is scary, or receive help from someone who might make you do something perhaps a little cruel. ²

green are united in knowing that they are inherently bad, scared, or willing to make a few bad decisions if it keeps them safe. they're united in being individuals and owning that. they are a faction in which everyone accepts that they will do different things and will not always agree. green are NOT united in all their decisions. they are simply united in understanding that they are stronger together.

it's also, perhaps, difficult to believe that they have no leader when tr!bad steps up for leader meetings, stands up as the scary back-up for the faction, strategizes with the faction, keeps everyone in the loop, and provides so many resources for the faction. that's very interesting when the leaders of the other factions are not doing anything remotely like it. they stand as a unifying figure, but they don't do all of these things (only some) for their factions like tr!bad does. not saying that he is a better leader — cause again, he's not their leader — but that hes simply a strong, smart member and the only reason they've dubbed him leader when they really have no governing body.

yeah, tr!bad is typically the one recruiting members, but not because he's the leader. he's actually typically the deal breaker — he will lie to you, he will make it obvious, he will be blunt that of the faction, he is the worst. and that he will be the unfortunate face of the faction. that's his kindness to the newbies. he'll let them know that the pacifist tr!lukey, or the pretty and silly walls of green base, or the materials so generously shared with others even outside the faction, are not what heads the factions image. that whatever tr!bad does, no matter the intentions, will be framed with the worst intent behind them the others can think of tr!bad doing.

—

and tr!bad providing is simply cause he has the most resources, more than he has any need for. he's willing to be helpful, to see others grow strong, and to be the fuel for the chaos or games around him. yeah, he sometimes asks something of people who aren't in his faction, but it's the price he's giving for what he's offering. it's often assumed that anything he gives anyone comes with a price, because it's his nature, and he's like that. but, as much as he might whine or complain about it, or try to use it to his advantage at some point, the only time he makes deals is when he expressly hears or says the word "deal." even a contract with the keepers isn't a deal. he just always can get resources easily and is willing to share when he feels like it. ³

tr!pangi is probably closer to a leader than tr!bad, in my opinion. i know that sounds crazy but hear me out. he's the one who checks in with each the members the most. he's also there strategising, planning out his cards to make the moves he wants to make. he always informs others of the moves he's gonna make, and he even got green allied with the new orange faction. okay, he's a bit busy with yaoi but tbh who isn't in this server — anyways — and he makes sure people who need things have them, even if everyone on green is basically self-sufficeint. tr!pangi has taught several of the skills he got from ls to the green members to help keep themselves safe, and is also willing to be scary back-up for whoever he can. he has the most positive relations outide the green faction than any other member, and also always makes sure to keep everyone in the loop when it concerns everyone.

tr!pangi has 20 evil exes BUT is well respected not only cause he's strong, but because he is civil and kind and people actually note this, even though he associates with and also engages in chaotic behavior just like, if more mellowed down than, tr!bad.

tr!lukey is present for everything he can be, but he's very much +9 charisma, -13 health. he's well-spoken, if not a bit sassy, in the heat of the moment, but otherwise isn't very strong or convincing. him being a little pitiful is actually quite charming to everyone, and that saves him a lot of trouble, but he isn't all innocent himself, with a history he can't remember and not-all-good intentions (though they usually stem from caring about his not-all-good teammates, or his loving friends even if the cost is a little steep). it's no surprise he's seen as expressly not tue leader, when he doesn't quite get seen as leader material in the first place. I feel he'd be good at high-stakes negotiations if he had all the info he needed, but again, green only sends one person for all the meeting cause they percieved that only one person will be seen that way by the rest of them: tr!bad.

tr!tubbo and tr!krow get away a bit more with their individuality because they don't really appear often or at the same time as tr!bad, but yellow certainly looks at them as an example of tr!bad being a "bad leader" cause he has little/no control over them. (again, hes not their leader, but honestly i don't even think they care that he's seen that way — if no one understands, they don't.) ⁴

tr!hannah is a woman. slaaayyyy. (im gonna be real she doesn't log on much, so theres not much i can say about her character, BUT from the little she's been on, i believe she'd stand with them — if maybe be a bit conflicted — but also have fun.)

over all, being individuals means a lot to green. they trust each other. theres not much they could do to break that because they know that are not only less than perfect, but actively straying away from it with every decision they make. they would rather count on each other than count their mistakes and strive for near perfection or to be as good as they can, because they know that almost nothing will break them apart besides choosing to leave of their own volition. and having that security means more to them than having a soft sort of family, cause its stronger.

in a way, green are a family, but instead of all living in the same house, eating the same food and drinking the same water, they live around the world like a network, and where one line cuts off, it's always attatched to another to keep working. yellow, from greens perspective, seems to be rooted in being yellow. the king, the royal architect, the archmage — of yellow. to green, it must seems that when all of it relies on being yellow, if you make a mistake to big, or go somewhere yellow dont want you to go... what do you have left after that?

tr!owen is the prime example in this — he said and did things yellow didn't agree with and lost everything, under the guise of being a spy. he technically, in the end, didn't get to be anything. not green, cause he was a spy for yellow, and not yellow cause they banished him with what they considered a pointless task that would keep him away. not even purple — the designation for people with no faction. at least green accepted a contract with him and he had support. cause green understands being the individual, having a goal, the need to do bad things, even if he wasn't one of green's.

im in no way expecting yellow to get it. they don't have to. that's the point! that's the whole reason they're yellow and not green. cause their customs work for them. they are amazing. a safe place for each other. a family. a shoulder to lean on. comfort and home. but on the off chance they get it one day, it would be amazing for them to all see how similar they are. how alike in nature everyone is. they're not denying that they're cruel because, honestly, they're not. its funny to say to rile people up and some of the ways they think can be questionable, but they have so many amazing similarities to green. they have a figure they can rely on for material needs, they have a figure they can rely on for political needs, they can all, at risk, seek out each other for emotional talks and chats if they so choose. they hang out for fun, they laugh and sing and dance together. they have quiet moment where knowing each other are present is all that matters.

and i'm not saying green has nothing to work on. they are all antagonistic or villains or making bad decisions. they have all done things they regret or didnt want to do knowing how they would feel about it. they've all sacrificed more than they've had for things that weren't worth it. but a little understanding goes a long way, and hopefully, something everybody has to fight against will bring then a little closer together, even if they don't always agree on everything.

¹ [thats probably one of the reasons they lack/lost respect from green, to be honest. they have a lot of perceptions, and they have to be right even when they're wrong, only cause they're a united front. of course, not all their perceptions are wrong, but in terms of a lot of facts about green, they are — so green, in turn, to make their perceptions, which is only fair to them.]

—

² [and frankly, this is why i love the separate factions, and i think they would've organically formed this way either way. either as teams or villages or whatever, all thats different is they have the distinct colors on their names tbh. it's seperate cultures naturally forming in a land that connected by nothing but dirt, rock, flora and fauna — in real life, over time they'd probably have separate languages in a few thousand years, if they didnt actively create one themselves]

—

³ [nothing to do with the realm but more so cc!bad himself: i would love to see him play a secondary, much kinder character besides !bad. cc!bad plays genuine kindness very well (with experience, of course xD) and when he puts softness into his character, even subtly, it always melts my heart. perhaps !halo, who is just a regular yet skilled guy trying his hardest. i would still like to see !halo suffer, but only for the angst, and so it feels better when he succeeds, like the way i love it when !bad succeeds cause i wanna see him suffer, hehe. (perhaps even just a time where he pretends to be someone else, but lets someone who knows him know its, to be silly >:3) extremely indulgent idea and won't happen, but would make a good premise for a one-off ir a fic, perhaps.]

—

⁴ [I CARE RAAAHHHH. my blog, grrrr. ROO ROO ROO BARK. LMAO]

[enigmaris]

Potential Order in which the BatFam each discover the truth:

1) Alfred: asked danny on the first day when they were alone why he didnt want to see Batman. Danny told him that batman had sent him to wayne manor and he was doing what he was told. Alfred, knowing how emotionally stunted bruce is, immediately divined what must have happened, said nothing to the others.

2) Jason: in an attempt to get Danny to open up told him that he shouldnt be afraid to speak with Batman since Jason met him when he tried to carjack the batmobile, there couldnt be a worse first impression. Danny laughed and said "when i first met him, i punched him. All he did was tell me my form was off' Jason knows intimately what happens to adoption bait kids who stand up to Batman, and decides that whatever is causing Danny to avoid batman is justified. He also tells no one.

3) Duke: immediately clocks Danny as a meta. Finds a moment to tell Danny that he doesnt need to worry about Batman having problems with metas since Signal is a meta. Danny, still oblivious, told Duke "he was so judgemental though". Duke who had to go through hours upon hours of intense questioning about his own abilites and, like Jason, decides the rift was caused by Batman. Tells no one, he won't out a fellow meta like that.

Dick: He figures it out over time, like above said, he has the most experience with Bruce's whole... deal. He spends time with Danny and sees how low his self esteem is. Dick has seen this song and dance before, knows all the steps by heart. Batman found another broken kid and tried to fix them without talking. Dick only tells Damian to make the kid stop threatening Danny.

Damian: He doesn't believe dick. Takes another week to come to the same conclusion because Danny notices Damian's stalking and tells him that he understands and that anyone wouldn't trust a random good for nothing homeless teenager.

Cass: would have figured it out first but she was in Hong Kong. She vibe checks Danny upon meeting him. Immediately susses the situation. Tells Steph and Oracle.

Steph: got told by Cass. Laughed, decided the chaos was too good to end and told no one.

Oracle: got told by Cass, she had had her suspicions but hadnt been able to come to the manor herself yet to confirm them.

Tim: Doesnt figure it out. Too busy hacking government servers and making deranged boards with yarn and newspaper clippings ( a la the pepe silvia meme)

Bruce: doesnt figure it out. Has an aneurysm. Alfred finally takes pity on him and gives him a hint. Bruce is then faced with the realization that to save the world he may have to communicate directly and honestly with someone about their emotions. Decides all hope may be lost.

Danny: has multiple 2+2=fish moments during his stay. He doesn't clock anything because he is too deep in his own head about the mess his life has become. Bruce tries to reveal the truth, Danny misunderstands. Bruce wonders why Danny still isn't talking. Jason forces Danny to the cave because he knows B is too stupid for this. Danny asks if all billionaires have creepy basements. Tim doesn't look up from his detective board and mumbles 'yeah probably' and then passes out.

Truly a family of the greatest detectives of all time.

DpxDc The Ultimate Enemy AU:

When danny goes to the future chasing after his evil future self, he runs into Batman, the only surviving member of the Justice League. The hero helps him track down Vlad and discover what happened. Before Danny goes back in time to stop the dark timeline, Batman stops him.

Batman gives him a code phrase and tells him that if things dont work out, if he cant save his family or if he needs help in his own time he should go to Bruce Wayne and tell him the code and the man will help him.

Batman with years of experience when it comes to his deranged teenaged vigilante children assumes that Danny will know that Batman just shared his secret identity. After all, all of his kids would have put it together with ease.

Unfortunately for Batman, Danny is not one of his detective kids. Danny assumes that Bruce Wayne is a friend of Batman's. He goes back to his past and manages to defeat Dan and Clockwork saves his family. He never forgets the code Batman gave him.

Fast forward a couple years, Danny is on the run, he needs help. He does what Batman told him to do and goes to Bruce Wayne. He gives the man the code and is immediately taken to Wayne Manor for some medical care.

Danny doesnt want to tell Wayne about his ghost half. When the man asks him why he was hurt and how he can help, Danny said he needed a place to stay and that Batman said that Bruce would help him. Danny begs Bruce not to tell anyone he is here, not even Batman. He needs a safe place to hide.

The code Danny gave? A batman original that means "this is a trusted part of the bat family who comes from a doomed timeline, do whatever they say"

But Danny doesnt know Bruce is Batman????

So like, from Bruce's perspective, this beat-up kid shows up from out of nowhere and gives him a code phrase that basically sets the entire bat fam on red alert. Because this kid just came back in time from a doomed world right?

But the Batman of that time didn't reveal his identity. So surely there must be a reason for that? Bruce has to trust the version of himself that lived that failed timeline, which means he can't reveal his identity.

But no. There was no reason. Batman just did that thing he always does where when talking to a dark haired, blue eyed teenage hero he just doesn't finish his sentences and assumes they understand him perfectly.

They almost never do, at least not at first, and he never, ever learns.

Shenanigans, as always, ensue.

[0tivez]

and there was only one sleeping bag

synopsis: you're sent on a mission with levi. once nighttime arrives, you realize you've forgotten your sleeping bag. will you be too proud and sleep on the ground in freezing cold or accept levi's offer to share the sleeping bag?

characters: levi

warnings: afab reader, tight space, unprotected sex, handjob (giving and receiving), mdni

wc: 2k

note: yes it's been literal years, yes it's out of nowhere. but tbh i needed this more than you guys probably will enjoy it. maybe not my best work but give this hag a chance, i haven't written ANYTHING in years. also yeah sorry about that.

<- navigation

you let the cold soil embrace your feet. you feel all your tiredness leave your body and flow into the ground, as the heat of the bonfire levi has set leave soft, familiar kisses on your bare face. it’s been a long day of riding around the forest for a preliminary investigation for titans before the expedition begins once more, hoping it’d decrease casualties. erwin has assigned his two best soldiers for a daytime exploration, levi and you. you should have been back to the main camp by now, but two 15 meters had other plans. if only you weren’t caught by surprise, it would be child’s play, but you were. eliminating smaller threats, you were ready to return back when two fuckers appeared out of nowhere and attacked you. thankfully, you had managed to survive with minimal damage. as much as you wished you could travel back during the night when it’s the safest, you were too worn out to continue without some rest. so, you planned to rest for a few hours before heading back while it was still dark.

levi was wandering around the forest to look for dry branches while you let the heat relax your muscles. you hear levi coming back with a bunch of wood in his arms.

“we should have been on the move. i should feed you to any titans we’ll see tomorrow.” he nags. his tone is always serious, yet so un-intimidating to you. you stop taking his threats seriously when you receive them everyday.

“aah, you probably won’t have a hard time. i probably taste better than you anyway” you respond. levi clicks his tongue in response, you can feel his face go sour without even looking at him.

“we should sleep. the fire should scare wild animals away.”

“no night shifts? i thought you weren’t tired.”

levi scrunches his nose and furrows his brows. “i’m not going to spend four hours staring into the fire. i’ll try to sleep a little too.” you shake your shoulders in response.

levi turns around and approaches his horse as you take off your jacket and lay it on the ground. levi stands above you with a shocked face.

“what the hell are you doing?”

you look at him, confused. “making my bed.” only then you see the green bag in his hands. “what’s that?”

“it’s my sleeping bag, dumbass. where’s yours?” right, sleeping bag. the warm, cozy bag you sleep in. the one that’s resting in your tent back at the main camp.

levi sighs before you can even say a word. he hands the bag to you. “what kind of a soldier are you? take mine, i’ll sleep on the ground.”

you take offence immediately at levi’s mean remark. “it was supposed to be a daytime mission! i didn’t want to carry too much weight. and i don’t want your stupid bag. i’ll sleep on the ground.”

“tch. you’ll freeze to death. stop being annoying, take the bag.”

you throw the bag at him and turn your back against the bonfire and lay on the ground. levi’s not surprised at your stubbornness, he also knew you’d be shivering before he even fell asleep.

and you did.

levi saw your body trembling on the ground, he knew you’d be too proud to admit being wrong.

“just come here. sleeping together will make us both warmer.”

you humph and get up. levi has unzipped his bag and opened it to let you in. only then you realize, he’s half naked. you only see his pale skin and chiseled abs before turning around and letting a tiny scream out in shock.

“what the hell, you perv? why the fuck are you naked?”

levi sighs. “to increase heat circulation inside. you should take off your clothes if you want to get warmer too.”

“the hell? i’m not getting undressed you freak!”

“god, i won’t look. stop being annoying and get inside or i’ll just sleep here by myself.”

you stomp your feet on the ground in annoyance and quickly unbutton your shirt and get rid of your pants. you find levi with his eyes closed waiting for you to enter his bed. so you do. you snuggle inside the bag and zip it.

your cold back gets in contact with levi’s warm, bare chest. the space is too tight for things to not be erotic. it’s just, undeniable. you can feel every curve of his abs on your back, and you can’t help but notice how perfectly your ass is positioned in front of his bulge. you’re sure levi is aware of it too, but tries not to show it.

the awkwardness only increases once you and levi realize that his arm’s stationed in a weird position. he mumbles something you can’t make out and drops his arm down. his right arm is now wrapped around your waist. the sudden touch of his skin on your waist sends shivers down your spine. all the blood rushes to your cheeks, you can’t help but feel aroused by this sudden situation.

you turn your head to glance at levi. to your surprise he’s not asleep, not even pretending to be asleep. he simply has his brows furrowed, looking directly onto your face. your eyes meet for a second, before both of you move as if on command, directly against each other.

levi’s hot lips press upon your shivering lips. levi sucks in all the coldness out of you. his kiss is enough to send shivers down your spine. you feel the heat rise from below, slowly creeping up your spine. levi’s hand that’s wrapped around your waist tightens its grip. he’s gently kneading the soft skin around your torso before crawling up on your chest. you try to breathe in between kisses. it feels like levi’s on a mission to choke you out with his lips. he shows his incredible stamina once more, he hasn’t broken the kiss for a moment, and you’re a breathless loser.

you hold levi’s hand on your body and guide it on your boobs and under your bra, allowing him inside somewhere you never thought you would. levi’s fingertips play around your nipples as he bites your lower lip, sending too many signals to your body all at once. you free your right hand and grab levi’s face, pushing it further into yours. levi’s hand explores all over your breasts; kneading them and tracing around them as if he was trying to picture it in his mind. and god, you don’t even know how much levi wishes he could bury his face on your chest right now. because he can’t suckle on your nipple, he compensates with your soft lips instead. he sucks on your lower lip that has gotten wet and slippery from his sloppy kisses. he tugs, bites, and sucks on your lips. he’s too drunk on you to realize how much your soft moans have aroused him, he’s too focused on pleasuring himself with your lips.

you can feel his erection grow bigger on your back, fighting for you to play with it. you trace your hand down his body from behind your back down to his underwear. you play around the edge of his boxers as he continues to mark your lips. it’s the first time you hear him moan once you slip your hand inside his boxers and palm his erection. you let his cock fill your cold hands. his dick pulsates on your hand with the sudden touch of coldness. you can feel his eagerness, and how much he was offended at how easily you made him moan. you got a glimpse of his sly smirk on his face before he quickly sent his hand down your underwear as well. you rub his cock up and down as he takes his slender fingers down your wet folds. he nuzzles on your neck and sucks on the soft spot right down your jaw. he puts his wet fingers on your clit and starts circling around it, teasing you to beg for more. you don’t beg nor response, only let your fingers continue rubbing his cock. except this time, you let your fingers wait a little longer on his tip, which you figured out was his sensitive spot once he moaned with your first touch. levi instinctively bites your neck in frustration, and accepts his defeat. he starts applying pressure on your clit before rubbing circles on it. you feel the numbing pleasure wash over you.

it doesn’t take longer than seconds before levi whispers “fuck it” with a raspy and furious voice. he frees his throbbing dick and quickly moves your panties to the side. his pebbled sweat drops on your naked shoulder, yet it doesn’t bother you. you were now gasping for the cold air that once almost killed you.

levi lets out a low moan as he enters his tip. the tight space gives you very little room to move around, you have nothing else to do other than take it, take him. levi slips his cock inside with a swift motion without trouble. his masterful fingers have already prepared your hole for him. levi sighs out of relief and lets your warm, wet cunt welcome him. he enjoys the sight of you squirming next to him, waiting desperately for you to move. your eyes are shut close, eyes filled with tears, forehead covered in sweat, and lips agape with lust. he takes the sight in.

he thrusts his hips in the confined space. even though his movements are limited, he hits the spot too well. you scream in pleasure, so much that levi is almost scared he hurt you. he hastily moves again before you moan “more, levi, please” that drives him mad. he pushes his hips steadily, every move so powerful and effective. he pushes his thumb on your clit and starts playing with it. bolts of shock travel through your body, the pleasure almost too unbearable. his cock stretches your walls every time he enters you. your soft skin slaps against his balls with every thrust, the mumbled slapping sound echoing through the silent forest. the only other noise that fills the void is your desperate moans that call for his name. “levi, levi, levi…” his name never sounded better.

levi once again locks his lips with yours. he’s working all around you. your body is locked with his, you are under his control fully. his unreal stamina weakens you. you grow weaker as he continues to drill into you. you make sure to stay conscious enough to savor his low moans on your lips, a mission too hard for you at this moment.

your body is at its breaking point, and levi knows it. he knows you’re close, but he won’t let you cum until he’s ready too. he can feel your body as if it was his, or at least you think. he measures every movement; it’s almost like he can also feel when you’re close because that’s when he breaks his pace. that’s when the numbing feel in your chest dies down a little, only a little before levi picks it up again. he plays around with your body. he chases after you, he tries to catch up to you.

“levi, please” you beg him, and the sight of you drives him to the edge. you lay beneath him, face turned against him, your nails digging on his biceps to control yourself, cheeks wet from tears and sweat. you almost look like a painting, so beautiful and delicate.

levi doesn’t hold himself back as he made you do. he lets you clench around his cock with all your power before breaking apart under him. he empties himself inside you with a low moan that harmonizes with yours. you both crumble under the lustful touch of the other, fingers traveling around your bodies still.

your body finally falls limp. you’re gasping for air, almost as if you had just left a battle. levi releases hot breaths on your skin as his head falls on your neck. his soft lips touch your neck as he speaks again in a low and ordering voice as usual.

“i might have to reconsider feeding you to the titans.”

i missed levi so much i love him so much aot is still the most goated anime of all time ong and levi HHRRRAGAGGGHHH WOOF WOOF BARK BARK

[cyanideandink]

❥ 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐟.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you get to clean up after another one of mark's alternate selves. only here's the thing. he isn't done, and you seem to be his new plaything. the one catch? you can't keep your mouth shut or your ego in check. there's only one way to fix that...

warnings: f!reader. mohawk!reader. lensless!Mark. dubious consent (probably?). minor blood and injury. canon typical violence. size kink. man handling. p in v. creampie (if that’s a warning).

WC: 6.5k

I didn’t edit this shit amazingly well so sorry if there’s any mistakes

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈

Blood scattered throughout the Guardians Headquarters messily, like a beautiful painting, completely in ruins. The walls were cracked and littered with debris and the lifeless bodies of the reformed Guardians. Red stained the once-pristine halls, and the air was heavy with the acrid stench of sweat and decay. The silence was deafening - a stark contrast to the disaster that unfolded here for what seemed like forever ago.

She stood amidst the devastation, her body battered and bloody, but she had a job to do. A duty to everyone who had perished here. She was the only one left - the only one who had survived the massacre.

Well, except for him.

The variant leaned casually against a shattered column, his suit shredded and covered in the remnants of her colleagues, the lenses from his mask evidently missing. His eyes fixated on her, hollow and predatory, and his posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if he were waiting for a friend outside a coffee shop rather than standing in the middle of a crime scene. His lips curled into an unsettling grin as he noticed her.

"You're still kicking, huh? Sweet, I thought this was gonna to be a one-sided celebration," he said, his tone bright and conversational, like he was welcoming a dear friend.

He pushed himself off the column, stretching his arms above his head with an overdone yawn. He glanced down at the display of corpses, most unrecognizable, huffing an unsatisfied breath, "Y'know, this always happens, I always end up dismembering them too quickly. I can't ever enjoy the fight."

Rolling his eyes, he shoved a familiar cape adorning corpse aside, making her clench her jaw as she witnessed him desecrate the corpse of her former friend and coworker.

His sharp eyes locked onto her again, tongue sliding out to sample the blood from his split lip. He smirked, his tone turning playful. "But you? You've actually got that look in your eyes. Like you're actually gonna try."

She clenched her fists, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of the fallen Guardians pressed down on her, their sacrifice fueling her resolve, but also the audacity of this Mark had her reeling. She couldn't let their death be in vain, and she couldn't sit there and let him disrespect her any longer.

"Are you almost done with your bullshit monologue or manifesto?"

"Woah, watch the attitude. I was just trying to be friendly." He blinked, caught off guard by her response as he took a step closer. "But hey, I like that. You've got guts."

This guy was fucking insane and annoying. He didn't know how to close his mouth, and so you did him a favor. "Yeah, well I have been contemplating what your own would look like with the others." As he neared her, in an instant her fist connected with his jaw, making his head snap to the side. He stumbled back a step, more from surprise than pain.

"Ooh, not bad! Not bad at all," He giddily rubbed his chin as he grinned at her, his eyes flickering over excitedly. "I knew you had it in you."

He cracked his neck, his grin never wavering. "Come on, hero. Entertain me. And hey, if you make me laugh, I might even let you live. No promises, though." He lunged forward, faster than her brain could process, and he grabbed her, pressing into her arms, grip like a vice as his fingers dug into her flesh.

Grimacing, she quickly latched onto him, biting into his shoulder with a force that made him yelp, causing him to drop her on the ground. He hissed, glaring at her, a smile dancing on his lips as he sent a fist to her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air as he leaned down. "You fight real dirty. I can get behind that." He sent a knee to her ribcage, a sickening crunch echoing, her organs shaking from the impact.

"God, do you ever shut the fuck up?" She groaned, digging an elbow into his own stomach, using the leverage to send her own bloodied flesh into his, blood splattering against her spandex suit.

As she beat him into the ground, he suddenly snatched her wrist. "I am gonna be honest, as hard as I am right now and as attractive as you are, I am gonna have to ask that you to stay away from the face...but really I'm not asking."

Another sharp blow to the head landed on her painfully, and as she coughed up another pint of blood her gaze flitted up at Mark, shiny streaming tears cascading down her face. "You look real good like that, though I am disappointed in the lack of noise." He pouted at her, bottom lip protruding out as he feigned a look of innocence.

"I get I've got a pair of boobs but you'd think it would take more to get a man off," Scoffing, she went to strike him again, but he ceased her movement.

He found her interesting. Frustrating and yet so deeply intriguing. "I can get a pair of tits anywhere, but this? Pure entertainment and a display of debauchery and beauty in one?" He whistled.

He reached out, to which you retaliated, making him glare slightly. "Oh, are you sensitive?" He mocked, twisting her wrist as he leaned close, swiping a tongue along her cheek. As much as she wanted to maim the man in front of her, she knew this may not play out for her like most of her missions did.

"I am so out of your league, you freakshow masochist." And that very quip sealed your fate.

• ────••✦♥︎✦••──── •

Lensless quickly has her caged, one hand tightly gripping the collar of her suit, the other placed firm on the wall beside her head. His knee slots into the empty space between her legs to trap her further, and he pulls her off the wall, dragging her roughly by her collar until she's closer to his face.

All she can do is sit there, limp and bruised, unable to move as he has her cornered. The impact of her back hitting the wall made her eyes shut voluntarily, a sick wave of pleasure crawling in just as she opened them slowly.

His tone managed to still sound amused and nothing less of threatening when he spoke this time. "I don't know why you think it's smart to mouth off to the person who can snap your neck in a split second, but clearly, you don't get what that means."

She retaliates, "I don't need to be told what to do by you, asshole."

"Apparently, you do. You fail to understand the fact that I have the upper hand here, get it? If I was in your situation, I would shut my pretty mouth up and be a good little pet. But I guess you just don't get it." Lensless's eyes narrow slightly, his smile unnerving as his fist tightens on her collar. He keeps a level and airy tone. "You're my bitch. If I tell you to bend and break, then you're gonna fucking bend and break."

It's increasingly difficult to speak with her collar choking her, Lensless practically holding her up by it, but she still manages to spit out, "I am nobody's bitch."

"You really don't get it, do you? I guess I have to spell it out," Lensless scoffs with a grin, "You're just a human girl, a girl with a bratty fucking attitude and a dirty little mouth. You should appreciate the fact you're still alive right now."

That phrase in particular, just a girl - the way he says it is laced with so much animosity, chewed up and spat from his lips, like he hates having to even say the words. Like it’s something about her, about this world, he absolutely, wholeheartedly despises.

Her hands reach for his, grabbing at his knuckles, at where he grips your suit, but to no avail; he refuses to let up. His thigh slides further upwards until she’s sat between it, and she can start to feel the slightest amount of friction between her legs.

She counters, “Well, aren’t you sweet? This is what you call kind? Beating the fuck out of me, destroying my planet, and talking down to me like I’m some kind of animal?”

“The way I’m treating you is all you deserve. I could kill you right now, but I’m generous enough to let you live your pathetic fucking life. If you knew what’s good for you, if you were at all smart, you’d ditch the attitude and be on the ground, licking the blood off my boots.”

“No,” She shakes her head, and despite her situation, even though it would seem like he has the advantage here, she still has a way of weaving her way underneath his skin. “Angstrom tells you what to do, and dogs like you always do as they’re told.”

“Angstrom told me I could put any of you down if you hinder or get in the way of my orders. If you think your insignificant life means anything to us, you’re dead wrong.”

“Put me down, hm?” She cocked an eyebrow, a dry laugh escaping her mouth, “You don’t have the fucking balls.”

Lensless taunts, grinning wide. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so.”

After she utters those words, everything happens in a matter of seconds.

The grip on her collar flexes before he twists, still holding onto her. He roughly flings her away from the wall, with enough force that she stumbles and falls on her ass. Managing to push herself up, Lensless standing over and watching, allowing her to shakily stand on her feet. She doesn’t have the time to prepare to fight, though, because the second she’s got her bearings, the only thing she sees is him cracking his knuckles before his fist connects with her face.

Fuck, he hit her hard. So hard she falls back again, until she’s on the ground. She feels blood welling at her split lip, and she tastes it on her tongue, where she accidentally hit down. The concrete is icy cold against her skin; it feels good, almost, helping to soothe the stinging throughout her body.

She didn’t expect him to hit her like that…though, in hindsight, she should’ve seen it coming. Slowly, her senses start to return, the pain beginning to fade, but her daze completely shatters when she feels Lensless’s foot come down on her face.

He steps on her head with what feels like his full weight, grinding her cheek under his foot like she’s a doormat.

Although her state doesn’t make it easy, she’s still able to see him in the corner of her vision; his expression patronizing, as if he’s looking down at something far lesser, an insect, a pet.

“You didn’t put up much of a fight, did you?” He taunts, his eyes examining her. “Only a few hits take you out after all this? Maybe you aren’t as fun as I thought.”

She ignores him. “Get your foot off my fucking face.”

Lensless leans his head down a little. He’s silent, and in the corner of her eye, she sees the way his jaw flexes.

This is what it’s like to lose against him, to find herself beneath him, obedient. However, the most pitiful position she’s been in since she met him also happens to be the most exciting.

The thrill from before: she can feel it now, even stronger. In reality, it never truly went away. She’s annoyed, but her heart pounds in her rib cage. Her head feels fuzzy and light, fogging up and obscuring her vision, making it hard to think clearly or rationally.

She should be done, really done with this. The attitude, the fight, the bloodshed. A boot to her face should be the final straw. But should means nothing to her. Since when has she done what’s correct, what she should be doing?

She said it herself. He isn’t going to kill her. The heart-racing thrill; she wants more, she can take more.

There’s a little smile tugging at her own lips when she speaks again, and she hopes Lensless can’t hear it in her voice. “Angstrom told you not to fight me, did he not? Wonder what he’s gonna say when he finds out you went directly against orders.”

“Do you want another thrashing, maybe you are a little masochistic?”

“Tch. You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, sure.” He licks the blood from his busted lip, letting a sigh out. “What’s your point?”

Her point? Her point is he’s infuriating, deplorable, the most insufferable and despicable person she’s ever had the misfortune of having to deal with. And yet, he’s the most captivating person you’ve ever encountered.

No one has put her in her place quite like this before. Nobody has ever made her feel this overpowered, this pathetic. There’s something exciting about Lensless Mark being the first.

There’s a thrill in the feeling of being conquered by him, by having the power shifted away. And there’s excitement in the feeling of getting closer to him, when his hands were on her, when his mouth was just inches from hers.

There’s a certain dizziness to the way he smells, to the way he effortlessly roars over her, to how physically strong she knows he is, even though he holds himself back. The low, honeyed lull of his voice goes right between her legs every single time he talks.

Maybe she wants to break him just as much as she wants to be broken. The idea of getting closer to him is absolutely alluring.

“You wanna know what my point is? Do you?” She taunts, finally breaking the silence between the two of them.

Lensless fiddles with his suit, causing the material to snap back against his skin. He replies simply, without any elaboration: “Nope.”

“My point is I think you’re compensating for something.”

Lensless snorts, “Really? You were silent for so long, and that’s the best you can come up with? Man.”

“I’m not saying it ‘cause it’s an insult I’m saying it ‘cause it’s fucking true,” She huffed, speaking through gritted teeth. She’s looking right up at him now, her glare evident. Lensless stares back with amusement and a hint of interest.

She continues, “Guys like you only act this way because they’re compensating for what they don’t have. Did it make you feel good? To beat me bloody? Why don’t you toss me around a little more, it might make you feel even better.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to if you would’ve just listened…as fun as it was.”

“This isn’t about teaching a lesson. This is about you wanting to take your anger out on a poor superhero.”

“You run your mouth way too much for your own good. For a ‘poor superhero’ you were acting real cocky earlier. What happened to that? Now look at you.” He jabbed.

Then, Lensless Mark leans over, resting his weight on his knee. In a quieter tone, he says, “So, are you going to be good and quiet, or should I shut you up myself?”

She eyes him up and down, barely able to keep her guard up. “Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Are you compensating for something? Or not?”

He scoffs, “Are we really still on this bullshit?”

“The fact that you won’t tell me means I’m right. You’re probably a virgin, getting all bitchy with me cause you’re mad no women will ever pay you any attention.”

He rolls his eyes, tensing up slightly, “Watch it.”

But she doesn’t. “Is it fun to be Angstrom’s measly little dog? I’m sure they keep you on a tight leash, never allowing you any fun. I bet you spend all your time killing for others, doing errands for that bastard, hoping someday you’re gonna get what he promised. I’m sure that-“

She cut herself off with a sharp intake of breath when she felt Lensless wrap a hand around her throat. The pressure is only slight, but it’s enough to bruise. He digs his nails in, enough to send thin rivulets of blood trickling down her neck.

Her own blood has been spilled so many times, but this time she felt high.

Lensless exhales deeply, rolling his shoulders back to relieve some of the tension there, before he finally speaks.

“Why don’t you say what you said again? To my face this time.”

The irritation and anger she felt from him earlier have all but disappeared, replaced by the smooth, playful tone she’s become more than familiar with. She can hear his breathing, soft and controlled. She can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

Once again, the balance has shifted, but not in a way either of them expected.

She answered, “I said you’re a mutt. And not a very good one.”

“And? What else?”

“And that you have a small dick.”

Lensless taunts, voice teasing, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh?” She huffed out a dry laugh, “Is that an offer?”

He scoffs, eyes narrowing with a smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t think I know your game? Do you think I’m stupid?”

He’s caught onto her, hasn’t he?

A sheepish grin tugs at the corners of your cheeks. “Sure, I think you’re quite smart. I just think you’d gain more experiencing the other things of life.”

Lensless keeps a hold on her chin, gripping tighter. The pad of his thumb brushes over her bottom lip, where the blood is nearly dried. She’s got all over, and his hand is cold, causing her to shiver.

He continues, voice low, “How do you imagine all of this playing out? Acting like a brat isn’t going to get you anywhere.” His eyes flicker down to the shallow wounds all over her body, a stream of blood that is fresh still lingers, threatening to drip down. Then, his gaze flicks back to her face, resting on her lips. “All you did was end up getting hurt.”

“I don’t think it’s what I want. I think it’s what you want.”

“You’re projecting.”

She can’t help but chuckle at that. “Isn’t it hard? It has to be difficult, following someone else’s orders, never having the opportunity to take what you want. Why don’t you be selfish for a change?” She taunted.

His touch, eerily delicate and light, a perfect juxtaposition to his next words. “What’s difficult is having to deal with you. I should kill you quickly.”

Something in him snapped. “I think you want me to bend you over and fuck you over the corpses of your friends, yeah? Is that what you want?” He gripped her tight, pulling her in until she’s able to press her lips to his neck.

Whatever he was hoping to say dies out when she squeezes him. He sighs deeply, sliding down the wall slightly, hips subtly shifting to give her better access.

She palms his dick; he’s so warm there, throbbing under her touch, so much that he can feel his cock pulse through the fabric.

She squeezes harder and he can feel precum dribble out, getting his dick messy, his boxers filthy.

She presses a long, lingering kiss to his collar, admiring the blood smeared against his skin, up and down his neck, the yellow of his suit marked with a vivid bloodstain.

“Wow, you’re so hard,” She teased, “Is this just from me kissing you? I had no idea you wanted me this badly.”

The only thing he can manage to mutter into your ear is a quiet, forceless, “Quit.”

“Why should I?” And Lensless swallows hard to clear his throat.

“I should be killing you.” He murmurs.

“Oh?” She smirked. “So that’s what you want, you want me to stop?”

Abruptly, she took her hand away, his cock ached even more, suddenly feeling terribly confined.

“Fucking,” Lensless growled, hand squeezing her neck. “What I want right now is for you to shut up.”

“Hah, is that so? And how are you gonna do that? Are you gonna shut my mouth with—“ Her hand returned to grasp him, stroking the shape of his cock through his pants, and Lensless let out a groan. “—this?”

The second she began palming him again it was like she ignited something within him. The last of his resolve had wavered, his need for her reaching its limit. His breath started to quicken and he grabbed her side with a tight grip, testing the stretch of her suit. His lips hovered over her neck, breath warm, and he finally says what she’s been waiting to hear.

“Yeah, you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you?” His voice is low and sultry, laced with a hint of annoyance. “Bet you’re dying to have my cock down your throat. As if you even deserve it, considering the way you’ve acted.”

A soft whimper escaped her mouth before she could stop it, and she swore she could hear him huff the faintest chuckle. He ran his hand down her lower back until he met the curve of her ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

Her eyelids flutter, and he mutters into her neck, “You’re awfully quiet now.”

It’s difficult to formulate a sentence when his hands are all over her, but she manages to hesitantly ask, “And…And if I say that I do? If I say I’d like that?”

Lensless presses his lips to cut, placing a kiss so unexpectedly soft and gentle it sends her reeling. His fingers thread up through the base of her scalp, sending a shiver down her spine. He answers, “I’m not sure if you’ve earned it, honestly. You’d be lucky if I gave you that. The most you deserve is my boot to grind down on.”

She’s not even thinking before she babbles, “I deserve it, I do. I…please.”

“Oh you’re so greedy,” He hums, muttering breathlessly between his lips against her neck.

“I like it when you beg for me, it’s fitting for a pet like you. Why don’t you beg a bit more, then maybe I’ll consider it.”

This may be the first time she’s ever listened to his orders, but the second she’s realizes that, pleas are already falling from her mouth and she can’t do anything to stop them.

“Mark, please.” She whines, and it’s the first time she’s said his name like this, too. The way she says it so desperately, like she really does need him - Lensless Mark feels his heart skip a beat in his chest, and his dick pulsed under her hand. “I really want it. Don’t be mean.”

“No,” He scolds, his eyes narrowing, and he leans in, speaking softly, lips centimeters from hers, “If you want it so bad, then ask properly. Tell me what you want nicely.”

She hesitated for a moment, listening to the heavy breaths — hers and his — as they echoed around the alley. Only for a second, though, because she knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

Finally, she stammers, "I want your cock, Mark," She gulped, Lensless's breath hitches, and then, you continue, "I want it in my mouth, want you down my throat."

"Fuck, you think you can take it?" He muttered breathlessly, taking a step back from her. He eyes her up and down briefly. "Get on your knees, then."

He held the back of her head, coaxing her to her knees. He mentally cursed at himself for being lenient with her after her mean streak. But right now he really didn't care about anything but the sensation of her lips around him.

And when he sees the way she obediently sinks down to her knees iin front of him, hands promptly fiddling with with his lower half; it makes his head feel hazy, clouded with a certain sense of pleasure and pain.

She stared up at him for a moment, and Lensless chides, "What are you waiting for? You're not bitching out, are you? You're the one who wanted this."

She shook her head and replied, "I'm not. I'd never. And I won't change my mind."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

The outline of his cock is even more noticeable now in his suit, thick and heavy where it sits on his thigh. There's a bit of wetness seeping through the material, from where his precum has dripped out and soddened it.

He's so fucking hard — she can't help but tease, "See, I knew you wanted this too."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" He snaps, eyebrows furrowing, "God, such a pain. Why don't you put that pretty mouth of yours to use, show me it's good for more than just complaining."

"Oh? You think it's pretty?"

He seems to falter for a moment. "It's-" He interrupts himself with a shuddery gasp when he feels her tongue pressed against his clothed cock, breathing hot air that he can feel even through the spandex.

Freeing him, she stared in awe. It's thick, pale, with a slight curve to it — it’s so damn pretty that she nearly drools at the sight. Lensless grabs her face with a free hand just as she wraps her hand around the base of his dick, stroking him to a lazy rhythm.

He shifts his hips so his cock can lay against her cheek, admiring the way it dwarfed her face, a half-hearted chuckle escaping his lops. His brings his thumb to the tip of his cock while her loose palm continued to pump him. A faint, wet sound echos in her ears as he rubs circles over the slit, gathering the precum that leaked. He presses his thumb to her mouth, and when her lips parted he shoved it in, smearing it over her tongue.

Lensless presses the tip of his cock to her lips and she feels it throb hard when she kisses it. Once she took him into her mouth, slowly bobbing her head down on him, throat adjusting, Lensless gulped and praised, "Atta girl..keep taking it just like that. Don't worry about your teeth grazing."

God, if being scolded by him made her feel high, then being praised by him made her feel ascended.

She swirls her tongue around him. His whole body shivers, and he leans back further against the wall to support himself. Her head felt fuzzy and she whimpered weakly around his cock. Lensless presses down on the back of her head with one hand.

He takes a deep inahle before mumbling, "Oh that's it, baby," the pet name slipping before he even registers it. The tip of her nose nudged his pelvis and he held her in place, watching the way she struggled to take him, muffled gags sending vibrations down his length.

"Finally quiet. Good." He hummed breathlessly, and he wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Her eyes flickered around as he slid out of her mouth suddenly, and his voice interrupted her wandering gaze quickly. "Look at me," he commands, "Don't look anywhere else, I want you focused on me."

She offered a shallow nod, and he forced her back down on him, inching his cock further into her mouth. Even though it is difficult to breathe, he tastes good. She began to match his pace, bobbing her head in tune with his movements, swallowing him up as best as she could manage.

It's messy, wet tears coating your cheeks, spit dribbling from the corners of your lips. His dick leaks warm precum down her throat. The shaft glistens from her drool each time she pulls back, smeared a diluted red from what remained of her bloodied lips.

"So pretty when you cry for me." His breathing sped up, his pace growing rougher, until he's fucking her mouth relentlessly, rolling his hips in an attempt to get even closer. "F-Fuck, I'm gonna—“ He cuts himself off with a loud moan, grip tightening in her hair, his head tossed back. She swallowed every drop, and when he is sure he is spent, he slumps against the wall.

He pulled her up, palm still holding her side as he switched positions with her. His hand fumbled with her suit, sliding it all the way down. His fingertips are nimble, and his palms callused, but his touch is ecstasy. His lips pressed hard against hers, groping her through her bra, making her groan into his mouth.

Lensless's hand slowly slides down, feeling the curves of her body. One of his hands settles on her waist, the other placed on the small of her back. Lensless guides her until she is arched to fit perfectly under him; his tall frame is leant almost completely over hers, his hips pressed up flush to her ass.

Wrapping his arms under her stomach to pull her closer, the stiff outline of his cock rubbed up against her ass. He cupped her pussy in his hand, feeling the warmth. He tore the fabric straight off of her.

Lensless lets out a deep sigh of relief as he eases inside, pushing past the initial tight ring of her cunt, stretching her barely around the tip of his cock.

Without a second thought, desperate pleas continuously fall from her lips, "Please, please, please."

It's warm, wet, tight, especially from this angle. Lensless’s breath hitches the second he's pressed in, and as his cock slowly fills her, the pleasure starting to build up again, he clumsily grabs her chin, pulling her in until her lips come crashing onto his.

He notices the way she began to buckle, his arms around her middle holding her up tighter, closer to himself. His other hand wrapped around her throat, enough to bruise, make her head floaty and high, nerves going numb.

In a tone that's deep, smooth, intense, Lensless muttered into her ear, "That's a good girl."

Then, he rewards her, sliding himself into her slowly, stretching her out around his thick length. His knuckles tense, fingers tightening around her neck. Through heavy eyelids, his gaze flickers down; Lensless watches, vision hazy and blurred at edges as the shaft of his cock is buried deeper and deeper inside. He is so wrapped up in the sight that he almost doesn't hear when she begs for more.

And he does; he groans when he's sheathed himself all the way in, down to the hilt, roughly but slowly rocking his hips. He's so deep; she can feel his cock in her stomach, throbbing to a dull rhythm. His hips are shoved deft to her ass, his warm, bare, sweat and blood soaked skin pressed against hers.

Lensless takes a moment to catch his breath. She takes him perfectly, just as well as he imagined - no, better. She felt so good around him, squeezing him tightly when he nestles in deeper, sucking him back in greedily when he tries to pull out. Perhaps if he knew from the start she would feel this good, he would not have wasted so much time; he'd have her bent over for him the minute she arrived.

She felt his warm breath on her ear, his quiet voice, genuine and strained, "You feel so, so good."

Speeding up his rhythm, Lensless fucks into you with shallow thrusts, each movement rough but slightly mindful as he feels her try to adjust to the stretch of him. He gives her neck one more squeeze as he shoves his cock in, sending blood rushing to her head, before he drags his hand over her stomach. With the heel of his palm, he presses down, adding more pressure, and she can't help but call out his name.

"Mark," She managed, voice threatening to break at the end.

"You want more? So greedy, you want me to fuck you harder, yeah?" Lensless interrupts, saying exactly what was on her mind.

His hands grip her bare sides, fingers tightening, palms warm. He starts fucking her like he really means it, burying his cock in over and over. His hips hit her ass, bouncing off the enclosed walls of the alley. She can hear him in her ear, his gasps for air, hushed curses, little moans of ecstasy he's unable to contain, and she's practically biting her tongue to shut herself up.

Her hands tighten, grabbing uselessly at the wall, fingertips scraping the surface. Lensless suddenly grabs her by the chin, roughly jerking her head upwards, and she hears him mumble something that sounds like, "Open."

She takes the hint, opening her mouth wide, and while he is still fucking her, rutting his hips to a desperate fervor, Lensless messilu spits - The glob drips from his tongue, a string of drool mixed with blood, a total mess of his saliva. When it falls into her mouth she gulps, and Lensless groans, his dick throbbing at the sight, at the way she eagerly swallows down his blood and spit.

He slides completely out, and when he thrusts in again, that's when they hear it — A disgustingly wet noise, so loud, the echo seeming to fill the entire alley.

Heat rises to her cheeks, and a low chuckle falls from Lensless's mouth. "So fucking wet..." He taunts, "You're so loud. God, what am I going to do with you?"

He keeps his palm deft to her mouth as he begins rutting into her harder again, burying his face into her neck to stifle his noise. He fucks her faster, harder, pushing his fill weight into every thrust. His pace grows ragged as he chases his own pleasure, hand shifting, thumb pressing to her lips, urging her to part them. And when she does, he's shoving his thumb into her mouth, pressing it to her tongue, mumbling the command: "Suck on it."

She does as she's told, lips closing around his thumb as she sucks eagerly, moans muffled, quiet. Lensless feels himself start to lose control, his edge growing closer.

He groans, "Shit, I can't—I’m close—“ He thinks he can hold out, but when she starts whimpering around his finger, shiftinger her weight on her heels as her ass presses into him, urging him to fuck her even deeper, he's pressing his lips to her throat, "You want my cum?"

"Yeah, yeah, I want it-"

"F-Fuck...you gonna ask for it nicely?"

"Uh huh," She's stammering, nodding her head feverishly, Lensless fucking her to a desperate pace. "Please, I want your cum, Mark, please."

He moans into her mouth as he kisses her, his tongue swirling around hers, her hands fisted in his collar to drag him in even closer. He buries his cock in deeper, all the way, and it's so much, too much — His dick is so sensitive he can hardly stand it, and it's so damn messy when he thrusts in, the shaft smeared with his cum, her pussy dripping with her own arousal. He pulls his lips away from hers to gasp for breath, starting to fuck her to a steady rhythm, as best he can handle. 

His head is cloudy, all his limbs feel light, and when he buries himself in the tight warmth of her cunt, he finds himself drowning in the feeling. “You feel so good, so amazing—” She’s so warm, so close, and there's so much pleasure. So much, so much, so much, and, God, he's going to lose his fucking mind. 

Her hand holds the back of his head, fingers threading through his soft hair. When he suddenly thrusts into her hard, she whimpers, gripping close to the scalp, sending tingles down his neck and over his shoulders. “You take me so well, you know that?”

Lensless can feel sweat dripping from his brow, can hear the wet squelch of his cock fucking into her soaked cunt. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, baby? Tell me what you want, I wanna make you cum.”

She nods and babble without a second thought, “Mhm, please.”

He gasps “Oh my God…” His pace growing faster, less contained. It's hard for him to breathe, even harder for him to think, but the way she says his name is so amazing, so perfect, all he knows is that he needs to hear her say it again. 

Lensless grips her waist tighter, tight enough she’s sure his grip will bruise. He commands breathlessly, "Want you to say my name again. Tell me who's fucking you so good right now." 

His voice is all it takes to have her oblige: She chants his name, over and over again, telling him. Each time it falls from her lips, his heart skips a beat, his dick throbs and holy shit — He needs to give her his cum, he needs to finish with her, more than he thinks he's needed anything in this goddamn world. 

With each thrust in, he's hitting that perfect sweet spot deep in her core, pushing her to the edge. She feels it coming, her breath starting to quicken, her muscles starting to tense, the pleasure boiling and boiling and —

Her eyes screw shut, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum…" 

"Yeah, h-hah, I'm close too," Her high approaches with a rush of adrenaline and waves of pleasure, and just before she falls to pieces, just as she’s reaching her peak, Lensless’s deep and smooth voice mutters instructions that push her right over the edge. 

“Cum for me. Get my dick nice and wet, pretty girl.”

She’s falling apart for him then, her whole body tensing, her hands clamoring at his back, grabbing fistfuls of his suit, her cunt throbbing around his dick; she buries her head into his shoulder to stifle her noise, but Lensless can still hear her moans, her wobbly chants of his name. Mark, Mark, Mark — Over and over again, so fucking desperate, so pretty, and all for him. 

Lensless presses a firm hand to the back of her head, holding her there, close to himself. He fucks her clumsily, his hips beginning to stutter, and when he feels her cum on him, squeezing like a vice around his cock, he can't hold himself back from riding the same high. 

He shoves himself in deep, fucking her shallowly through his orgasm, his cock spilling inside, filling her with the last of his cum. He gasps out her name as he finishes, incoherent strings of curses and gasps alongside it. His vision goes white, his hands tremble as he holds onto her sides, and his whole body shudders before his muscles relax. 

Time appears frozen in place for a few short moments. She began to catch her breath, her heart rate slowing down, the high she was feeling starting to fade. Once exhaustion hits her limbs, her body slump. His breath feels warm on her cheek as he exhales shallow gasps. Her eyelids feel heavy, sleepy, the warmth of his body held close to hers just amplifying the feeling.

“So, you’re not gonna kill me, then?”

“I don’t know…I think I need more convincing..maybe you could demonstrate for me again, just like this.”

“You’re sick.”

“Am I?”

“Completely.”

[dreamdragonkadia]

Can I please have a Percy Jackson x soulmate reader who is also a child of Hera fic, specifically where they have each other's name on their wrist. Only if you're up to it, no pressure.

I’m full-on rolling with the adopted child of Hera route for this because of that post I made a hot minute ago (iykyk). This was such a fun piece to write, so thank you for requesting it! p.jackson x hera!reader

When the name first bloomed across your wrist in curling, ink-dark script, it hadn’t been you who noticed it.

It had been your mother.

One moment you were sitting at the marble dining table in her private quarters on Olympus, struggling to write an essay on the Greek pantheon for your mortal school (ironic), and the next, Hera had audibly gasped.

A real, actual gasp.

You’d looked up, blinking, only to find the Queen of the Gods frozen in place, her eyes locked on your left wrist. Then she was moving, uncharacteristically overly gentle, taking your hand like it was something sacred.

There, nestled in the soft skin just above your pulse point, was a name.

Perseus Jackson.

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, the goddess of marriage and family turning the wrist like it was a prophecy, her thumb brushing over the name as if to test its permanence.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

“If he hurts you,” she murmured, a glint of something ancient flashing behind her irises, “I’ll hand-deliver his soul to my brother’s realm.”

 It wasn’t exactly the most reassuring threat of maternal love, but you appreciated the sentiment. Mostly.

And for a while, that name was all you had. Just a reminder inked into your skin, a small tether to someone you’d never met. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might run into him—this Perseus Jackson—at Camp Half-Blood.

Until Silena Beauregard clocked your wrist.

You’d only just arrived at camp for the summer, backpack slung over one shoulder, when she swept you into a circle of flower crowns and idle gossip under the shade of the strawberry fields.

“I forgot,” Silena said with a little smile, reaching out to fix one of the daisies in your crown. “You haven’t been around long enough to meet Cabin Three’s one and only.”

You blinked. “Poseidon’s kid?”

“Mhmm.”

You tilted your head, adjusting the crown she placed on you. “Mom’s complained about him a few times… what was his name? Perce? Perrie?”

Silena actually giggled. “It’s Percy. And he’s kind of impossible to forget once you meet him.”

You shrugged. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably has a sea salt ego and some tragic backstory. Don’t they all?”

That had been that for most of the day.

Between trying to nap in spots no one would bother you—your top pick was currently the roof of the Big House—and settling into Cabin Two, you managed to mostly avoid conversation. Hera’s cabin was more or less a shrine to symmetry and order, with marble floors so polished you could see your reflection in them. It was always sealed up tight unless you were there to unlock it with your presence alone. A little dramatic, but hey. Apples don’t fall far from immortal trees.

What you didn’t expect was to look up from organizing your few bags and see a shadow fall across the open door.

A boy was peeking inside, standing on the front step like he wasn’t sure if knocking would offend someone—or if the building itself might strike him down for the attempt.

Honestly, you didn’t blame him. Most campers had only ever seen Hera’s cabin from the outside—closed doors, golden torchlight flickering behind frosted windows, impossible to enter unless Hera deemed it so. And now? The doors were open, and you were there.

He looked… hesitant.

Dark hair a little damp like he’d just come from the lake, an orange Camp Half-Blood tee clinging to him, and sea-green eyes that immediately locked onto yours the second you moved.

You stared right back, unimpressed.

“Lost?” you asked, not moving from where you sat, legs crossed on your bed, unwrapping a granola bar you hadn’t even wanted until now.

He blinked, then stepped back a little. “No. I mean—no. I was just, uh… curious.”

Your brows rose.

“I’ve never seen this place open before,” he added quickly. “Didn’t mean to, like, spy. Or intrude. Sorry.”

You took a bite of your granola bar and chewed, slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You always peek into cabins you’ve never been invited into? Or is this just a special treat for the day?”

His lips twitched. “You always this hostile, or is it just your charming way of saying hello?”

You finally moved to stand, brushing off your hands. “Depends. You always interrupt people mid-snack?”

His grin broke through then—lopsided, boyish, annoyingly cute. “Only the important ones.”

You waved the boy in. “Take a look around, I highly doubt you ever will again, son of Poseidon.”

He blinked, visibly startled. “How’d you—”

“Please. You think I don’t know what my mom complains about?” You gave a light shrug and tilted your head, studying him like he was a curious painting. “You and your dad share the same eyes.”

Then you added, almost as an afterthought, “Yours are prettier, though.”

That stopped him cold. His mouth opened a little—like he was ready to fire back a flirt or a quip—but the words didn’t quite land. Instead, his gaze flicked downward.

To your wrist.

Your sleeve had ridden up just slightly when you’d waved him in. Just enough to see it—faint against your skin, the edges delicate and familiar.

He froze.

“You—” he started, but it came out rough, like his throat had dried mid-word.

You paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “What?”

He shook his head like he was trying to reboot. “It’s nothing. I just—” His words trailed again, and he swallowed. “Can I ask you something kind of… stupid?”

You crossed your arms, instinctively defensive. “You really are making it difficult not to insult you with a question like that.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was still staring—less at you now and more through you, like something in the air had shifted and he was the only one who could hear the change.

Then, without another word, he turned his arm over and tugged his wristband down.

There it was.

Your name.

Etched across his skin like it had always been there. Like the universe had quietly stitched it into his fate and only now pulled back the curtain to show it off.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Your eyes dropped to the name inked on his wrist, and then—slowly, too slowly—you looked down at your own.

Your heart gave one single, staggering beat.

Perseus Jackson.

The name that had been on your skin for years, barely noticed, barely thought about. Something that had always felt like background noise—until now, when it matched his voice. His face. His everything.

Everything in your chest stilled.

“...Oh,” you whispered. It wasn’t eloquent. Wasn’t poised or godly. Just a breath of realization. A shockwave in syllable form.

Percy was watching you like you might bolt. Like you were a frightened deer, and he wasn’t sure whether to reach out or stay frozen.

“I—I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said quickly, voice cracking just slightly. “I didn’t even know if it was you until just now. I mean, I hoped, but I didn’t— I wasn’t gonna say anything unless you—”

You raised a hand, and he shut up instantly.

Not because you were angry.

But because you looked stunned.

Shellshocked. Like the floor had dropped out from beneath you and you were still trying to figure out which way was up.

“You’re serious,” you said quietly, your gaze locked on the mark on his wrist. “It’s not some weird Camp prank or cosmic joke?”

Percy snorted, a little breathless. “I wouldn’t exactly joke about this to the daughter of Hera. I like living.”

You didn’t say anything for a second. The name on your wrist suddenly felt heavier than it ever had—less like a mark, more like a tether. A bond.

Fated.

“Did you… always know?” you asked, voice small despite yourself.

He shook his head. “Nah. Mine showed up when I was twelve. Thought it was some mistake. Or a curse. Then I met your mom.”

You flinched.

“She didn’t say it was you, just… glared at me. Said I’d figure it out. Someday.” He looked down at his wrist again, his fingers brushing your name. “Guess this is someday.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Gods, she’s going to love this.”

“Yeah,” he said, with all the dread of a man facing imminent doom. “Can’t wait for that meet-the-mother moment.”

And for the first time since everything had started spinning, you let out a soft, startled laugh.

Because, of course.

This was your soulmate.

Your mother’s least favorite demigod.

Figures.

[writinginatree]

Together 2

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran/Reader, Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson

Summary: Bodhi and you cross the parapet, and you finally get to meet his cousin.

Part 1

In the end, you do tell your parents about your intention to join the Riders Quadrant. You just can't leave without saying goodbye, no matter how tempting it is.

Their reaction is about as bad as you expected, angry shouts still ringing in your ears as you slip out of the house. You refuse to let it get you down. Rage as they might, they can't stop you. Your pack is already stored safe under Bodhi's bed; you'll sleep there with him like you've done so many times, and in the morning, you'll turn your backs on this town for good.

It will be a year before you'll be allowed to write or receive letters, and by then, your parents will hopefully have calmed down. If they're still mad after that long — well, fuck 'em. As long as you have Bodhi, you don't need anyone else.

The staircase with it's lack of railing is too narrow to stand next to each other, so Bodhi goes first. You hold hands the whole way up, dreading the moment you'll have to let go. If crossing the Parapet holding hands were possible, you would, but alas, you'll have to content yourselves with crossing one after the other.

"Nervous?" Bodhi whispers, turning around to face you as you wait in line.

"A little."

"Your balance is great," he reassures you. "Just do it like we practiced and you'll be fine."

"Oh, I meant about meeting your family once we're inside," you joke. "I'm not worried about the balance beam of death. Like, at all."

"Right." Bodhi cracks a smile, but it's a bit strained. He's nervous too, even if he doesn't show it. "Well, you don't need to worry about that, either. I told you, they'll adore you."

The line moves up, and Bodhi takes the next stair backwards so he can keep looking at you.

Standing still again, he pulls you into a hug. One stair above you, he's tall enough to rest his chin on top of your head, a fact he takes full advantage of.

You rest your head against his chest, basking in this moment of peace before you step into the unknown. His heartbeat is fast against your ear, almost in sync with your own, a steady drum filling you with strength.

"You're not getting second thoughts, are you?" Bodhi mumbles after a few seconds.

"Never. I'll go anywhere with you, no matter how dangerous or scary."

"Good. Because if you turned back now, I'd probably follow you, and then we would have a problem."

After giving his name to the rider on top the turret, Bodhi turns to kiss you. You ignore the snickers and stares from riders and other candidates alike, used to the fact that he can never separate from you — even for just a couple minutes — without a kiss. You wouldn't have it any differently.

"See you on the other side."

Before you can do more than nod, he already turns and steps out onto the parapet.

Irrational fear makes it hard to breathe as you watch him. It comes as a relief when, once he's made it a third of the way, it's your turn to follow. Spreading your arms for balance, you walk out over the ravine with small, measured steps, keeping your eyes on Bodhi's distant form to avoid looking down.

Glancing back over his shoulder to see you behind him, he slows down so you can catch up to him, and you reach the other side with only a few steps separating you. The second your feet hit the courtyard, Bodhi's hand is back in yours.

You grin at each other.

"That wasn't so bad."

You huff a laugh. "No, but I'm still glad we only have to do it once."

Stepping away from the opening in the wall, Bodhi's eyes scan the crowd of older cadets. Searching for familiar faces, no doubt.

You feel him trembling with nerves, every second that passes without catching sight of his cousin or friends making him more anxious. Your own heart races in sympathy, hand squeezing his as your gaze darts around too, hoping to catch sight of someone with a rebellion relic.

Just when you start to fear the tension will tear Bodhi apart, a fierce looking man with a relic that reaches all the way up his neck emerges from the crowd, striding toward to two of you with purpose. Though you've never seen him before, it's not hard to guess who he is: Bodhi's cousin — Xaden Riorson. He's a little taller than Bodhi, the angles of his face sharper and his hair straighter, but the small differences between them only emphasize how similar they look overall. If you didn't know better, you might have thought them brothers.

Bodhi lets out a heavy breath of relief, tugging you forward to meet the older boy halfway.

The cousin's stoic expression cracks for a second when he puts a hand on Bodhi's shoulder in greeting, fondness flashing on his face before he quickly masks it again. There's no room for softness in this hostile environment for the marked ones, it seems.

Bodhi must know it, too. He looks a little disappointed at not getting a hug, but silently accepts the unspoken boundary.

He'd briefly dropped your hand to greet Xaden, but now he takes it again, tugging you close to his side as he introduces you to his cousin.

Xaden's gaze turns calculating when it falls on you, studying you with such intensity your scalp tingles. It feels like he's trying to look through you. You half expect a What are your intentions with my little cousin-speech, but it doesn't come.

"Nice to meet you," you venture to say when he doesn't say anything.

"You too," he stiffly replies after a moment of hesitation, looking like he doesn't think it's nice at all.

You don't take it personally. After all, Bodhi had warned you in advance that his cousin isn't much of a people person. And if you were in his shoes, you probably would distrust anyone you don't know, either. You appreciate that at least he's not being outright hostile.

After a moment of awkward silence, Xaden addresses Bodhi again. "I already made sure you'll be put in my squad—"

"Both of us," Bodhi interrupts. "Put both of us in your squad. Please."

His cousin looks like he wants to argue, but Bodhi puts on that pout you can never say no to, and clearly, Xaden isn't immune to it either.

"Fine," he sighs. "I'll see what I can do. But I hope you two realize that there's no time for romance if you want to survive in this place. We're preparing for war, not going on a picnic trip."

Bodhi barely keeps from rolling his eyes. "Yes, Xaden. We know. We've prepared for this."

You nod, even as you can't help but wonder if you really are prepared well enough to make it here. You don't know what it's actually like living in this place, but Xaden is making it sound like it'll be harder than whatever you've imagined.

Bodhi has been preparing for this for years, so he'll be fine, but while you did sometimes join him for sparring and agility exercises, that had only been for fun. You hadn't taken it seriously until mere weeks ago, when you'd started thinking about coming with him. Now you worry if you'll be able to keep up with the other cadets, most of whom have probably been training to join the quadrant since they were kids. That class you've heard about where cadets have to fight each other will certainly be... interesting.

"Good. I'd hate for you to get yourself killed because you're distracted," Xaden says with a pointed glance at you.

Bodhi lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist instead, pulling you even closer, as if you weren't standing shoulder against shoulder already.

His cousin's eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything else, clearly getting the message — no criticizing your relationship, at least not in front of you. That's more kindness than your parents have shown Bodhi, always nagging about their distaste for him as if he couldn't hear whenever you brought him over.

Before Xaden can turn away to see to the squad arrangement, Bodhi asks, "Hey, is Garrick—"

"He's fine. On watch duty right now, but I'm sure he'll come say hi later."

Pressed against Bodhi as you are, you feel the breath of relief he lets out. "Good. I'm really fucking glad you guys are okay, Xaden."

Xaden allows himself a brief smile and claps Bodhi on the shoulder, muttering something in Tyrrish that you don't understand. Switching back to the common language, he adds, "I'll catch you up on the last year later. In the meantime, keep your head down and don't die."

"Alright. I can do that."

Xaden nods and walks off, toward some other older cadets.

When you're sure he's out of earshot, you turn to Bodhi and say, only half-joking, "You didn't mention how intimidating he is when you told me about him."

"He can be nice when he wants to," Bodhi assures you with a wistful smile. "But he's certainly hardened in the last year."

For a few minutes you stand in silence, watching as more new cadets step off the parapet. Your unease grows with every person you see. They all look stronger, better prepared than you. You don't regret coming here — you meant it when you told Bodhi you'll happily follow him wherever — but you're starting to think you underestimated how much of a challenge survival in the Riders Quadrant will be.

Bodhi nudges you. "What's on your mind?"

"Just... realizing this might be harder than I thought. I was so focused on not wanting to be separated from you I never considered having me here could be a hindrance."

Bodhi frowns, and you automatically lean in to kiss away the crease between his brows.

"Nonsense," he says when you pull back, still frowning. "This is about what Xaden said, isn't it?"

"Partly. I guess I'm just worried I won't be able to keep up 'cause I haven't been training for this nearly as long as you and everyone else."

The frown deepens. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," you say, taking his hand. "But that's the thing. You shouldn't have to look out for me on top of handling yourself. If I can't hold my own I'll distract you, just like Xaden said."

"Oh, fuck that. He was just being an ass. We're a team, baby. If you need help with something, I'll help you, and if I need help, you'll help me. Don't give me that look — when it comes to academics there's definitely some classes where you'll do better than me, and you know it. Besides, you're not as bad a fighter as you think you are. A little extra practice and you'll keep up just fine."

"Are you sure? I just—" You sigh. "I don't want to drag you down."

You don't notice you've been chewing your lip until Bodhi lifts the hand not holding yours to your mouth and smoothes his thumb over it to make you stop.

"You won't," he says. "We can do this. Together, just like we planned."

You nod, breathing more easily. He's right. That was the whole point of this — to face the dangers of the Riders Quadrant together. You could have chosen an easier path, joined another quadrant and contented yourself with only seeing him occasionally, but you didn't. All or nothing, you'd said, and you stand by that. It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it. Bodhi is worth it.

"Okay. Thanks, Bodhi. For never getting annoyed at my stupid anxiety."

He smiles and pecks your lips. "No need to thank me. I get it. And I'll always reassure you however much you need."

[anunkindncss]

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 || 𝟐,𝟎𝟎𝟎+ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆

I was going to write something cool and composed, but let’s be real—I'm currently screaming into the void with gratitude and a feral little tear in my eye. Because somehow, this messy, chaotic, emotionally wounded, occasionally unhinged muse hoard of mine has reached 2,000 followers on this indie corner of the internet, and I honestly don’t know whether to cry, yell, or just start throwing confetti.

So instead: thank you. To the mutuals who’ve stayed. To the new folks who took a chance. To the silent lurkers who reblog my nonsense in the dead of night. To the people who write with me, plot with me, send memes, share playlists, and let our muses be soft, sharp, stupid, spicy, sad, or all of the above—this blog wouldn’t be what it is without you.

I’ve laughed with you. I’ve screamed in your DMs. I’ve fallen in love with the way you write your characters with so much heart and intention. If you’ve ever interacted with me, know this: you’re part of this madness. You’re part of the reason I’m still here, still writing, still healing, still dreaming in little scenes and threads that make this world a little brighter.

💀💬 this isn’t just a blog. It’s a found family of feral muses, shitposts, late-night angst, and soft moments in between. And every one of you? You’re stuck with me now.

Here’s to 2,000 and the chaos still to come. Here’s to you. 🖤

#𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 People I am honored to mutually have interactions with who are definitely my top 5 faves and you should follow as well:

@frcshkills: I think Skye is probably one of the most inventive, creative, wonderful writers I've ever interacted with and continuously supplies me with angst, emotions, and a beautiful ship that never goes out of style (cue the taylor swift music). Genuine 10/10 content.

@greatcstarcher: It's no secret I love Lumi with my whole heart, I'll shout this into any void you might find and I will viciously defend her to the teeth because she's my goob. I wouldn't still be on this blog without her.

@essentiamortis We just started writing together and have developed a ship I am now absolutely feral for because my boy deserves a happy fucking moment in his for shit life but I will consistently stand by the fact that this well thought out incredibly well developed character deserves all the wonderful nods and recognition.

@musingmemories L will one day tire of me tagging her and she'll smother me through discord but until then I will tell you all that her writing stands alone as some of the most beautiful writing I have ever seen on tumblr. 10/10 would recommend, but urge you to guard your feelings, she's out to hurt you.

@bornofthedawn because you absolutely need to write with this freaking diamond of a disney character personified because it'll have you over the flipping moon. Please. Just take my word for it.

NOW, honorable mentions: @thieved @blckfckinmsk @watsonjackpot @lookedinfinite @lupiinee @thechosengryffindor @bccksmarts @vulpuslunae @andrewbrenner @evcryopeneye @taleswritten @belovedblossoms @retriibutions @therelentless @katarinawilliams

[feyhunter78]

The Hunt (But Fun)

Description: Rewrite old memories, make them positive, make them fun. Natalie and Travis will try their best and maybe win a prize. (AKA the making out against a tree I promised)

It’s an Easter egg hunt, meant for the whole family, brightly colored plastic eggs hidden throughout the trees on Travis’ grandparents’ property. There’s so many people here, but she guesses that makes sense, apparently Travis’ grandma has like five siblings. It’s supposed to be fun, even the adults play, and Reyna tells them it’s alright if it’s too much for them, if it brings up bad memories. But Marco—who Natalie thinks is still a little wild despite what Travis said—and his wife Lisa tell them that the family gets really competitive. Reyna is probably trying to psych them out. She doesn’t believe them, but it does make her laugh.

It snowed the night before, not super rare but not the norm for this time of year, and Natalie smiles at the sight. They’ve decided, her and Travis since everyone searches in pairs of two, that they’re going to try to use the egg hunt as a way to “reframe” the sight of woods. Reframe the feeling of running through snow, everything that goes into a hunt. They’re going to try to have fun, to make good memories.

So, now they stand at the starting line, taking stock of the other members of Travis’ family, discussing strategy.

“So, who’s our biggest competition here?” She asks, zipping her jacket up, watching as everyone pairs off.

Travis tucks a loose piece of hair beneath the band around her forehead like he did back then, eyeing the others over her shoulder. “Simon and Cami are fast, but my mom and cousin Gabriel play dirty. If you hear them saying one of them is hurt, ignore it, they fake an injury, and someone falls for it every year.”

“Got it, what about Marco and Lisa?” She nods to the pair a little ways down, who are doing some kind of secret handshake.

He tugs the collar of her jacket up. “They usually hang back and see who’s winning, then try to see if they can trail them, but I’m not worried, they won’t be able to keep up with us.”

“And the kids?” She eyes the gaggle of children milling about, all of various ages.

“The kids know there’s a smaller egg hunt in the backyard for them afterwards, this is just to tire them out, so they don’t run wild during lunch.” He says, squeezing her shoulders before turning towards the woods.

He has their basket in his hand, and she almost laughs at how stark the contrast is between his dark colored jacket and the pastel ribbon covered wicker basket.

“So, no need to go easy on them, then?” She asks, itching to run, her shoulder feeling too light, the weight of the gun missing.

“I think we can sweep this and watch from the porch as the losers come trailing back.” Travis says, falling into the same stance as before, back when they hunted to survive, smiling wolfishly.

She laughs, returning his smile, senses sharpening as she breathes out and focuses. “Let’s do it then.”

The air horn sounds, Mara holding it above her head, watching with an almost fanatical glee as everyone races into the woods like a Roman emperor at the coliseum.

“She can’t participate in the egg hunt anymore, so she lives vicariously through us.” Travis explains, catching her line of sight before jerking his head towards the woods. “Come on, huntress, let’s show them how it’s done.”

She’s silent as she moves, Travis a few steps behind, the woods filled with crunching snow, shouts of excitement and people rustling through the undergrowth. It’s almost too easy, a couple of months hasn’t dulled her eyesight, and the Easter eggs are much easier to spot than woodland prey. She darts forward and pulls another egg from the roots of a tree, tossing it back to Travis.

They continue to wind their way through, pausing every so often to listen, communicating wordlessly, a thrill running through her with each egg they find. She feels alive again, the brisk air filling her lungs, adrenaline pumping through her veins. They come upon a clearing, and they hover at the edge of it, hidden within the treeline. A medium-sized plastic egg sis in the center on a tree stump, pastel purple glitter sparkling in the light.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know they were bringing that back.” Travis whispers, his breath fogging in the air.

“What is it?”

“Bonus egg, whoever gets it first, gets first slice of my Great Aunt Cassie’s chocolate pie, it’s really good like Godiva or something.”

“Well, let’s get it, then.” She smiles, scanning the clearing. She fucking loves Godiva.

At the opposite edge of the clearing, she sees Simon and Cami, their blue jackets like a signal fire. Cami heads for the egg.

“Shit Nat go.” Travis urges, taking a step back to give her space.

She bolts into the clearing, eyes on the egg, outer field of vision registering Cami as she draws closer. It doesn’t matter if Cami is fast, she’s not as fast as her, it’s always been her claim to fame, she’s the fastest on the team, fastest in the wilderness and here on open terrain? Easy as pie, the pie she's going to devour when they get back.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Cami yells, eyes wide with surprise still at least ten feet from the stump as Natalie swoops in and grabs the egg, pivoting and running back into the trees a few feet from where she exited.

Travis is already waiting, and he holds out the basket. She drops the egg in, and they keep moving, stalking through the trees as he counts the eggs in their basket. “We just need two more.”

The last egg is up in a tree and Natalie holds the basket while Travis pulls himself up, scaling the branches with ease.

“What’s in these anyways?” She asks, shaking one of the eggs.

“Jellybeans, other types of candies, maybe coins or cash?” He answers, dropping down beside her, brows furrowed like he can’t understand why she’s asking that question. “Like every Easter egg is, for probably as long as it’s been a commercial holiday?”

She can’t remember the last time her family celebrated Easter, but she’s pretty sure whenever they did the eggs were empty. Her face burns, and she looks at the snow dusted dirt, handing him the basket back. “Oh, I thought that was just in movies or whatever.”

“Don’t let my Abuela hear that, or you’re going to have to do the kids’ egg hunt too.” He laughs, holding their final egg up to the light. “Yeah, this one has jellybeans in it.”

She presses her lips together, feeling stupid for feeling embarrassed, but she can’t help it. Sometimes she can forget that Travis had such a different, better childhood than her. But then there’s times like this, and it's so blatantly obvious she feels like there’s a neon sign on her forehead blinking poor and parents didn’t care. “Can I have some?”

He gives her a look, soft and tender, noticing her curling in on herself because damnit she can never actually hide from him, and pops it open, showing her the brightly colored candy inside. “Yeah, Nat, of course. Have them all.”

She tries them individually then all at once, the saccharine sweetness of them making her teeth hurt.

“Are they any good?” He asks, popping a few in his mouth from a different egg.

“They’re really sweet.” She says, her nose crinkling involuntarily.

“That’s the issue with them, can’t have too many in one sitting. Oh, this one has chocolate in it. Want a kiss?” He offers her a Hersey kiss wrapped in pink foil.

She knows he means the chocolate, obviously, but she takes the opportunity anyways, grabs the front of his jacket, and kisses him.

His arms go around her, the basket thudding into the snow, as he pulls her closer, his lips parting beneath hers, the taste of jellybeans on their tongues. He backs up until she has him pressed against the tree, his hands burning through her clothing as his fingers take root in the back of her jacket.

“Can I have another?” She asks when they part for air, her lipgloss smeared on his lips.

“Yes, fuck yes.” He tangles his fingers in her hair, bringing them back together his lips warm against hers, heat radiating throughout her body.

“You’re so sweet.” She says, hands inching up, seeking the warmth of his skin.

“It’s the jellybeans.”

She pulls back to look at him, fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck. “No, it’s just you, Travis. You’re sweet, you’re always so sweet to me.”

He blushes, blushes, and it makes her almost giddy. “Nat…come on, how can I not be sweet to you? You’re my girl.”

Now it’s her turn to blush. “Shut up.”

His hands settle at her hips, still warm like a radiator. “I mean, it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, don’t be stupid.” She says, undercutting any potential harshness in her tone—because she knows she can sound harsh even when she doesn’t mean it—with a featherlight kiss to the corner of his lips.

He smiles and leans his head back against the tree, just basking in it all they way she does when she wakes up and his arm is still slung over her waist. She takes the opportunity to press her lips to his pulse point, trailing down slowly, biting back a smile when his grip on her hips tightens, and his breath catches. “N-Nat.”

She hums in response, trailing back up, careful not to leave any marks until she reaches his lips, looking up at him through her lashes, sliding one hand from his neck to cup his cheek. “Yes?”

“That’s so unfair, you can’t just look at me like that.” He groans even as he smiles down at her.

She bats her eyelashes the way Jackie taught her to years ago when they were both drunk at some lame party. “Like what, Trav?”

“You know.” He says, using his strength to flip them, his hand cradling her head, his lips ghosting over hers as he gives her a look that is definitely inappropriate for a Sunday morning at his grandparents’ place.

She’s always thought his eyes were beautiful, ever shifting shades of brown from the intoxicating hues of sunlight whisky to the depths of fresh soil primed and tiled in order for new life to grow. They’re what caught her attention when they first met and ever since then she’s been ensnared by them, fascinated by the spark within them, embers flickering like a low burn in a fire pit, or fireflies in summer skies.

She tilts her head, brushing her thumb over his lips. “Do I?”

He chuckles breathily, burying his fingers in her hair then crashes his lips to hers, body pressing hers further into the tree trunk, devouring her, heated lips and sugar sweet tongue taking her under.

She clings to his jacket, hand on his cheek going to his hair, a quiet sigh escaping her when he attaches his lips to her throat, pressing searing kisses to the sensitive skin. “Trav-Travis be careful, you can’t leave a mark, they’ll see.”

He flashes her a smile that makes her knees weak, as he unzips her jacket revealing the slightly low-cut blouse she wore underneath before he tugs it down further.  “Guess I just have to go lower then.”

Her breath hitches, when he dips his head, the ends of his hair ticking her skin, and she bites her bottom lip. “You’re lucky, you’re cute.”

He nips at the exposed flesh in lieu of a response, and she bites harder on her lip trying to stay quiet, her grip on his hair tightening. Excitement flares through her as he mouths at the skin, the cool air in direct contrast to the heat of his lips, the sting of his teeth. She probably should tell him hickeys don’t require teeth, but she learned long ago they both like it better this way.

“You’re so pretty, Nat, and so soft.” He says, kissing his way back up to the hollow of her throat. “And you smell nice, too.”

He sucks at the spot where her neck and clavicle meet, and her words come out breathless. “Thanks, new perfume.”

“Keep using it.”

“Okay.”

His hand skates up her side, and he smiles, she loves it when he smiles. “Thanks for coming to this with me.”

She’s got a bit of whiplash from the subject change, but she tries to clear her head, blinking a few times. “Yeah, of course.”

He kisses her again, slowly, deeply, sweetly, holding her like she’s made of glass, and she wants more, nipping at his bottom lip to covey her silent need.

A twig snaps a few feet to their right, and they freeze, senses on high alert. After a few seconds when there’s no other disturbances, they break apart, Travis grabbing the basket, Natalie leading the way as she readjusts her clothing, zipping her jacket back up.

They reemerge at the starting line, holding hands, and Mara smiles when she sees them. “Looks like we have our winners.”

“Travis told me there’s a pie we get first crack at?”

Mara takes the basket from Travis. “Yes, you’ll have to wait until everyone is back, though.”

Daniel, Travis’ granddad, leads them inside, seating them on one of the couches in front of the fireplace. He’s a quiet man but kind, he and Travis have the same nose.

Simon and Cami come in a bit later, the others trailing behind them, and Cami’s eyes narrow when she sees Natalie. “Natalie, what is Reyna feeding you? You were like a speed demon or something.”

“She was a star soccer player, Camilla.” Mara reminds her, unveiling the pie Natalie has been waiting for since she snatched up the bonus egg.

Cami shakes her head but laughs. “Fair, fair, but next year we’re going to beat you two.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Travis says, slinging an arm over Natalie’s shoulders. “Nat and I are the dream team.”

Marco ruffles Travis’ hair as he passes by to warm his hands by the fire. “Look at our little Travilito, all this confidence now that he’s got himself a girlfriend.”

Travis pushes his hands away. “Screw off.”

Natalie stifles a snicker, sliding from beneath Travis’ arm to take a plate from Mara mouthwatering as she digs her fork into the chocolate pie, a dollop of whip cream near the crust. It’s delicious, melting on her tongue, rich and sweet. Yeah, she’d be down to do this again next year.

[hollow-lime-green]

What are your thoughts on/the reasoning behind sub Satoru in FIYM?

aye aye captain i shall yap about this

obligatory: this a subjective interpretation, these are character choices i am making because i think they are compelling and explore themes that i like. probably don't psychoanalyze real life people through their sexual preferences.

okay, time to psychoanalyze gojo satoru through his sexual preferences -

so, something i have seen and heard is that powerful people are subs. 'power' here can mean any type of power, but generally this is connected to a person's societal position. this is maybe somewhat true (here's one study on s/m specifically - note the diff between men and women, i think this makes sense due to m/f social positionality, but clearly there's a lot of nuance and variance here), but it's certainly not a definitive relationship. but whether it is or is not generally true, i think it's a very interesting way to frame characters.

d/s is about control. so what do our characters want out of 'control'? who wants to be in control, and why? in the case of powerful people being submissive, I see it as both a release (from responsibility, from expectation) and a taboo (acting improper, doing the forbidden). on the flipside, with weaker people being dominant, it's a catharsis (getting reparations/payback against the power structure) and also a taboo (daring to step out of line/wield power).

Why is Satoru a Sub?

gojo satoru is a submissive for all of the above reasons. his position in the gojo clan, the responsibility that comes with it, and the expectation that he is a distant, untouchable god - is something he resents. he goes against this directly by being brash and irreverent. he shows a lot of aggression (socially, also combat wise) and energy, but this is not a real substitute for closeness.

and of course, as an adult -

what satoru wants is an equal - someone to share the burden with, someone on his level, someone he can trust. geto is certainly that, in canon. geto is the only one he trusts to truly watch his back. later, he'll trust people like shoko and yuta with contingency plans. he trusts nanami and kusakabe to look after the kids, and he trusts the kids to prevail after he's done his part (or at least, he's made peace with the fact that he's done all he can for them).

but there is never anyone else who stands beside him.

now, to go a little further, I think that what satoru actually wants is someone he can defer to.

not only can he share the load with suguru, he can also take a step back and give it entirely to suguru. and he can do this because suguru is not only strong, he has very strong principles. the focus on suguru's philosophy in Hidden Inventory - to me - is an indicator that satoru really wanted suguru to be 'the strongest', so that suguru could lead and he could follow.

now, unfortunately, suguru got The Trauma and found a way to justify genocide, so satoru had to nope out of that. but that's my read of canon: gojo satoru has been forced into a role of ultimate authority since birth, and he desperately wants out.

(this is a big driver of the jujutsu clan politics side plot in FIYM as well)

one other thing i'll add on the physical side of things - satoru's oversensitivity could really go either way. either he wants to have very precise control over what he is feeling to prevent overstimulation (dom leaning), or (the road we are taking) he wants someone else to push his body beyond his instinctive limits (sub leaning).

Bonus: Why is Satoru a M?

in 2sorcs ch 13, I do also veeeeeery briefly gloss over my Gojo Satoru is a Masochist headcanon. this is because he is a freak with a battle boner. and also something something Six Eyes - touch starved - seeking stimulation even if it's not necessarily pleasure. being hurt is another taboo for him, first because he's the strongest and second because of infinity.

Bonus: Why is Suguru a Dom?

actually, he's not. (in FIYM)

suguru is a switch. (in FIYM x2). lettuce 🥬 return to the concept:

...with weaker people being dominant, it's a catharsis (getting reparations/payback against the power structure) and also a taboo (daring to step out of line/wield power)...

suguru is extremely societally weak in FIYM. his past is extremely bleak (homeless, abused, cut off connections to family), and his present is extremely precarious (no clan backing, controversial technique). so if you followed this, then suguru lends himself to being a dom, yes.

however, this only really makes sense when the weak person is domming a strong person. and in terms of the physical power dynamic between satoru and suguru, satoru is not the stronger one. physically, due to the six eyes and satoru's lack of experience, suguru sees satoru as extremely vulnerable, so there's no societal/positional catharsis. he's extremely worried about overstepping satoru's boundaries (which satoru doesn't even want to set, which makes suguru worry even more).

obviously, with suguru's past, he cares a lot about consent. but even when it is given, he's worried that satoru doesn't actually know his limits, and won't know when to say no because of his inexperience and his overenthusiasm/wanting to please suguru.

(and satoru is also worried about this from his end, because he is worried about the societal power difference between them (the uncertainty principle) making suguru go along with things even if he doesn't want them (2sorcs ch 14)).

anyway, all this to say - suguru is not particularly compelled to dom satoru - he is a switch. he is filling the role that satoru is asking for, but he would also be perfectly happy to give control to satoru as well. i don't think that FIYM suguru would trust anyone else enough to be a sub, but with satoru, he knows that he's not in any real danger of being emotionally/sexually abused/manipulated, so he's down.

actually, we will see a little bit of dom satoru later in FIYM. here is the tiniest of snips as your reward, kind anon (and anyone else who made it to the end) - thank you for letting me yap.

[localwebslingers]

Board members at Oscorp realistically probably could be terrorized forever, and may even be one of the few groups of people Peter would say likely deserved the treatment. The whole group was made up of both literal and figurative vampires, and not the kind that always seemed to believe in basic decency. Forever was a realistic possibility and ideally, Harry would not be the one in charge of keeping them in some sense of line for the majority of that time. Both because he shouldn't have to, and Peter would take it as a personal offence if they kept his boyfriend working just so they behaved for even close to that long.

Not that he wasn't above going in and terrorizing them himself, but it would probably go over worse if he did.

"Honestly it's kind of a perfect pass time to do if you think about it." Peter offered then, getting a couple of more bites of food down before continuing, "Some of them might have read or watched a ton of other stuff sure, so maybe the stands they have are really high," he could absolutely see some vampires being the obnoxious type of critics that looked down on nearly everything produced, "but not only do you'd get to read or watch all the new stuff that's coming out, and actually have the time for it, but then review it to other people. With blogs now it's literally getting to just be excited about stuff with other people who are equally excited about the same thing. What's not to like about that?"

|| @inhcritance ||

An eternity of work felt more like an eternal punishment than like it might ever be a gift, for all that eternity was something Harry was very much avoiding looking at, lest it all dawned on him. But its effects were far-reaching, when he no longer needed to sleep and sustenance came in the form of blood. And yet, it was hard to be too downcast about it all when he was there, and when he could at last be close to Peter and be comfortable about, and the teasing no longer came with the caution or the doubts Harry had held at first. "Maybe only a little longer." He hummed. "I cannot be terrorizing them forever, I keep hoping at some point it will all sink in." He considered. "But for now, there is too much I can still do by breathing down on their necks." He hummed. "No matter how tempting it is to make that blog."

Or work on reviews of some kind, or merely on catching up what his work would not let him.

"It does bring the question of how many critics are indeed vampires." He still considered. "It might be a large percentage, and we might have never found out." Which was an outlandish, playful theory. "They might even be leading double lives."

@localwebslingers

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

Do you think Crowley told Aziraphale that Gabriel literally told him to stfu and die?

I suspect he didn’t. Cause it just seems like a thing he‘d want to spare his Angel from. On the other hand Aziraphale might not care? Given all the stuff Gabriel and the others probably threw at him throughout his time in heaven.

However it went, imagine the rage Crowley must be in while Gabriel (who was mean to Aziraphale probably throughout their whole existence) casually strolls around the bookshop and says things like You ever feel like everything would be better if you were just near that one particular person.

The goddamn audacity.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about a house. the house is sentient but not in a way i would typically recognize. it would view me as both a part of itself (similar to how an animal is a part of its ecosystem) and also something inherently lesser (like how an owner views its pet). i can't communicate with it in any meaningful way. i can't even tell when it's paying attention to me if it doesn't try to draw my attention. it can manipulate whatever is inside of itself except me, which would give me a sort of edge if it ever viewed me as a threat, but since it doesn't it sees it in more of a "awww look at your little claws" way.

[orcelito]

When you get this ask you have to answer with 5 of your fave songs, and then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers!!

Awwww thank u !!

In terms of Absolute Favorite songs... I think the #1 spot still belongs to Capricorn by Xan Griffin

Even after Years, it still hits something deep in my heart. I have cried to this song before, which is saying something for me. It's just... really special to me.

Hard as Fuck to give a ranking for another 4, so here are 4 songs from some of my favorite artists

Non-exhaustive list. Idk if these could be counted as my top favorite songs Ever, but that's such an arbitrary classification and can change depending on mood/general state of being/etc. So here r just a lot of songs that I love very much from some of my favorite artists. Yes.