#two of you now from the saw fandom found me like “hey you draw saw” sjkfhgnmbnmgh yes i do

[jennilah]

girl help theyre recognizing me in youtube comments LMAO

[novamariestark]

Cowboy on a Segway

[A/N] this was written on my phone. There may be spelling mistakes, either due to my fat thumbs or autocorrect.

Summary: you and Madison have been alone since the start. You feel completely responsible for her safety. One day you two meet Columbus and Tallahassee. When they invite you back to their camp, you have a little drink with Tallahassee

Warnings: 🔞, piv (unprotected sex), age gap, Venice mentioned as your name but you can change it, oral, poorly written smut

Word count: 3641

Fandom: Zombieland 2: Double Tap

Pairing: Tallahassee x reader

For the past several years, the abandoned mall had been your home. You had managed to scavenge and collect enough supplies from the various small businesses tucked away within its walls to keep yourself fed and tended to during the winter months. However, your resources were now running dry, and you had come to the realization that it was time to venture outside of the mall and find some more provisions elsewhere. Despite the availability of other housing options, you had chosen to make the mall your home, with the only problem being your persistent little sister who had taken up residence in the freezer. Your living quarters were situated on a catwalk hanging down the ceiling of the mall, which provided you with an excellent view of all the shops and stores below, including the one that your sister wouldn’t leave.

You sighed as you encountered yet another zombie. This was typical for any journey outside - always a few of them that either had failed to make it to wherever they were going, or were too comfortable where they were. You had become used to the sudden adrenaline rush of preparing to face another one of the undead - a reflex that you had grown accustomed to over the years.

You raised your trusty axe, ready to defend yourself against the rotting corpse lurching towards you. In one swift motion, you brought the axe down on its head, cleaving it in two. The putrid flesh and bone crumbled under the force of your blow, leaving a mess behind. You wiped the axe clean on your pants and continued on your way, the cold air filling your lungs as you breathed.

But what if something happened to you? What would happen to your sister without you around? The thought crossed your mind, as it often did, as it was a constant and understandable fear. You felt a bit protective of your sister, and you wanted to make sure she was safe no matter what happened.

When you got back to the freezer, you found it empty. You realized you had been gone longer than expected and your heart sank with worry – had something happened to her while you were away? You scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. You quickly dropped the supplies through the door and set off to look for her.

‘What part of stay here did she not understand?’ you asked yourself aloud. Even before the world was overrun by drooling, undead freaks, you were looking after Madison. In some ways, she was like a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes off her for a second.

A scream and a gunshot caught your attention, sending your heart into an indescribable panic. You knew who had screamed and terror beyond compare had you sprinting towards the source. Your sister's safety was your sole priority and with that in mind, you cocked your own gun, ready to shoot whoever was attacking her.

The distance between you and the source closed with each step you took, until you could hear your sister's voice coming from a candle shop. You stopped behind a board when you saw a – cowboy? On a segway? ‘How tired are you?’

“Don’t mind me,” he said, putting his gun away.

You stopped outside the doorway and peered into the shop. You make your presence known to the cowboy and stand beside him to find your sister hugging a curly haired boy. A stranger. Typical.

“Maddy!”

She released her hold and turned to you, “Hey Venny, look. Humans!”

“Yes,” you said, drawing out the word longer with a sarcastic nod of your head, “That’s why they’re talking,”

“Is this your dad?” Madison asked, turning towards the curly haired kid she had just been glued to. Gesturing to the man with the Segway and cowboy hat. God you loved cowboy hats.

“For shit’s sake, slightly older, better-looking friend,” he corrected. You loved older guys too but being stuck in a mall after the world ended, didn’t give you much of a social life. In fact, the only person you’ve had contact with was your sister, and sometimes you could feel yourself losing IQ points.

'My name's Venice,' you said, introducing yourself as you held your hand out eagerly for the man to take, desperate for any kind of physical contact. He placed his big hand in yours and introduced himself.

“Tallahassee.” He replied, he nodded his hat towards curly, “Not his dad,”

“Didn't think so,” you smirked, almost unable to take your eyes away from him.

He raised his brow and turned to you, his lips forming a smirk to match yours, “Oh yeah? How?” He challenged.

You looked him up and down, “Well, you’re handsome,” you shrugged then you looked over to curly, “And he’s… well I don’t want to be rude,”

“He’s a little spit-fuck, I know, Darlin’” the nickname caused shivers to dance along your spine. He looked around the shop, “You live here?” he asked you, but your sister answered for you.

“No, Paul Blart. I live in the freezer in Pinkberry, mm-hm,” she replied with a giggle, “It keeps the zombies out. Though it is awfully chilly,”

“Ever consider... turning it off?” Tallahassee asked, even though he was sure he knew the answer.

“Couldn’t find the switch, like anywhere. I was hoping the electricity would run out.”

Curly then added something about how the dams 'keep giving us power' and Tallahassee had quipped, 'Apparently not brain power.' You couldn't help yourself, and snorted in agreement, quickly trying to hide your laughter behind your hands, lest your sister discover that you were making fun of her.

As she spins to face you, her smile fades in an instant. “l feel like you’re being super judgey. Like, I’m getting a real anti-me vibe off you.” she says, pointing at Tallahassee

“Are you?” Tallahassee retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he mimicked the stance of a teenage girl. His voice had even adopted a slightly higher pitch.

“Oh, my God. There it was again. That’s hurtful. I’m like really good at surviving,” Madison whined.

“What are you talking about? You barely leave the freezer. That’s hiding not surviving,” you told her.

 “What about food?” Curly asked, standing beside Madison, “How’d she get food?”

“How do you think?” You asked, pointing to yourself, “Door to door service,”

“I carry a can of mace with me everywhere I go,” she says, “And I can run really, really, really, really, fast. I used to do a lot of hot yoga and Soulcycle and…”

“Cardio!” Curly blurts out, stopping her annoyingly long ramble, “Sorry, I do a lot of Cardio too. It’s actually my number one rule, which is dorky,” he said, to which you nodded, with a quiet ‘yes’ falling from your lips, which apparently the hot cowboy heard, if the throaty chuckle was anything to go by, “But I’ve got a list of rules for surviving Zombieland,”

“Really? So do I!” she yelled in her annoying peppy voice

“You have rules?!” he asked, getting excited.

“Well actually, it’s mostly just ‘Stay in the Freezer.’” She said, twirling a piece of her bleached blonde hair.

“Yeah, and you can’t even follow that rule,” you grumbled.

“Oh and ‘Don’t Eat Nuts.’ ‘Cause I’m allergic. To nuts,” she added.

Curly smiles at Madison as if she charmed him, “We’ve, uh, set up camp just down the road,”

Tallahassee tries to catch Columbus’s eye, waving his arms around, mouthing ‘no’. he wouldn’t mind you coming to their camp. But your sister? No, he’d rather slam his balls repeatedly in a car door.

Curly ignored Tallahassee and continued, “At the White House, care to join?”

“The White House?! I’ve always wanted to visit the seat of government!” Tallahassee shoots Columbus a look.

Tallahassee turns on the segway and you turned towards Pinkberry where you left your supplies, “Aren’t you comin?”

“Aw dang, you noticed me trying to dump her on you,” you said in mock defeat, earning another chuckle, “I am, just getting our things,”

“I could come with you, watch your back,”

“Is it only my back you want to watch?” you asked, catching him off guard, you shrugged, muttering “Shame,” before walking off.

You walked through the hall of empty shops. The only sounds were your footsteps and the whirring of the segway.

“You know, your boy isn’t going to have any backup if he’s attacked,” you said to him as you opened the freezer door, sticking your hand in to grab the supplies, “Just one more stop,” you said before grabbing a rope that dangled from the ceiling and climbing up to your “room.”

“You lived up there?”

“Yup, so I could keep an eye on her,” you said, pointing to the yogurt shop, “Found a cool spot years ago but she wouldn’t leave. Figured if I left it turned on, she’d change her mind. She didn’t,” you explained.

“Wait, you knew you could turn it off?” he asked, you smirked and nodded.

“Why do you think she never found the switch?” You asked, pointing to a poster on the wall.

“You hid the switch?”

“Like I said, I was trying to get her out,” you shrugged. Tallahassee laughed. Although he did wonder why you didn’t just leave her and go off on your own. He guessed it was the same reason he kept Columbus around, not that he’d tell anybody, “That’s everything,” you said before climbing down the rope and jumping to the floor, “Let’s go,”

***

Soon you were at the White House. That was now, white and green. You had tuned out the list of rules that Curly was rambling on about and your sister walked beside him as if she were a golden retriever and he had a treat in his hand.

“And rule fifty-three - ‘Wet-naps.’” He said pulling some out of his back pocket. You rolled your eyes and looked to Tallahassee.

“Does he ever stop?” you asked, he shook his head as he stared at the back of his head, a murderous gaze in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you keep all this stuff in your head,”

“Thank you,”

“It’s amazing,” she said, she stopped and turned to Tallahassee causing you both to come to a stop, “You know, you’re really lucky you found someone so smart to take care of you. Most people your age get left all by themselves, and that can be so hard,”

Tallahassee closes his eyes, the vein by his temple pulsing, he punches him in the chest, “I am so lucky.” He dragged him away, “Can we have a little summit in the Oval Office?”

“You guys. I can’t believe we’re in the White House. This is soy random,”

“Will you shut up? Please?” you looked around the space and spotted a statue, “Look, go introduce yourself,”

“You know why she’s still alive, right? Zombies eat brains. She don’t got one,”

“It’s true, she’s having a conversation with one of the statues right now,” you said at the door,

“In fact, the statue is smarter than her,”

“See,” Tallahassee gestures to you, “I’m not the only one,”

“If she’s so bad, why have you put up with her for so long?” Curly asked you.

“I could ask him the same question about you,” you said nodding to Tallahassee. Curly opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t want to hear his voice anymore, so you continued,

“Maddy’s my little sister. Like it or not, I’m stuck with her,”

“Oh,” Curly said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s just she’s um you know, like really, y-you know and you’re like y-you know, like him,”

“You know I could kill you, right? Without even moving from this spot?”

Before he could respond, your sister walked in, “Could you maybe give you a tour?” she asked, she looked around the room, “Woah, this is the Oval Office. Wait, why do they call it that?”

“For the love of God, take her on a tour,” you spat out, you needed a break from her. You were starting to miss your little paradise that hovered above ground, that gave you much needed peace. A place to escape before your sister’s squeaky peppy voice forced you to put a bullet in your head.

The two rushed out the door and a hand with a glass appeared in front of your face, you took the glass and downed the alcohol in one, “Thanks, needed that,”

“I can tell,” he said pouring you some more, “It seems yours annoys you more than mine does,”

“7 years in that shithole with only Maddy, I mean I love her, she’s my sister, but God I’d have a better conversation with a poodle,” you said, downing another half glass of whiskey, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear this,” you popped the glass down and headed for the door, “I’m going to find us some rooms, far away from you guys, give you some space,”

“You don’t have to, relax, have another drink,”

And you did. Or 5.

***

You and Tallahassee were swapping stories about your 10 years of Zombieland. You were sat on a chair, and he was opposite, sprawled out on the couch, you had to stop yourself from staring as his shirt lifted up higher every time he moved, displaying his abs and v-line.

Soon you heard noises coming from above, “Oh my God,” you groaned.

“I believe that’s what she’s supposed to say,” Tallahassee pointed out.

You rolled your eyes and downed the last of your drink. You don’t know what it was that caused you to be so bold and confident, probably the whiskey, but you stood from you seat and straddled Tallahassee’s hips. You lean in close, your warm breath against his ear “When was the last time someone took care of you?” you purred.

His eyes meet yours, a hint of surprise swimming in them. He smirks, his rough hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you in closer. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he replies, his voice husky.

“I don’t?” you asked innocently. He growled and without hesitation, he swiftly pins you down, caging you beneath his powerful body, his eyes burning with raw intensity.

Tallahassee pauses for a moment, his intense gaze locked with yours, “You say the word and we’ll stop,”

“What word? I wanna avoid it,” you smirked up at him a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Tallahassee chuckled darkly before bending his head, his lips finding your neck. His hands traveled up your back, massaging and kneading the muscles there, making you arch into him further. You moaned, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he suckled a trail up your neck to your earlobe. His teeth gently nipped at it, sending a shiver down your spine.

Breathless, you look deep into his eyes, her voice dripping with desire as you plead, "Fuck me," Tallahassee groans, One hand pins yours above your head, the other travels under your shirt. His calloused fingers trace your silky-smooth skin, his touch leaving a burning trail. He undoes the button of your jeans, yanking them halfway down your thighs. Without wasting a second, he pushes your dampened panties to the side, easing a thick finger between your dripping folds. He kisses your neck and along your jawline as he thrusts two fingers expertly inside of you.

Your back arches off the couch, a strangled moan escaping your lips. Tallahassee's thumb teases your clit, circling and pressing until you're on the brink of ecstasy. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as he begins to thrust his fingers deeper inside of you. You can feel his erection pressing against your hip, hot and hard, and you ache for him to be inside of you.

He started to increase the intensity as he felt your body twitch, responding to each of his movements, “Please,” you whimper, wanting more. Practically begging for it.

Your pleas didn’t go unanswered. He placed one more kiss on your lips before sliding down your body, your eyes following his every move. He pulled your jeans down the remainder of your legs and threw them across the room. As your eyes were looking to see where they landed, you feel something warm and wet seep through you folds. Snapping your head back to him, you see his face buried between your legs. His tongue swirling around your lips as if he’s trying to mop up every last drop of your slick. You can’t help but let out a moan as he bites, licks and sucks at your little bundle of nerves. Your hips buck involuntarily causing him to rest his free hand on your stomach to keep you still.

His hand returns, sliding up your abdomen, cupping your breast and squeezing gently. He licks you one more time, tasting the sweetness that coats his tongue, before looking up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

He stands up and starts stripping himself of his clothes. You clench your legs together to get friction as his cock springs free.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice husky and rough. You nod, unable to speak, as your gaze drifts down to the thick length of him. You quickly climb off the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

He groans, his hips jerking forward as you take him in your hands. Your fingers wrap around his shaft, stroking up and down the length of him, marveling at the heat and the size. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes, his eyes watching you intently.

You look up at him as you continue to stroke him, feeling his skin slide over your palm. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, you feel like you can see straight into his soul. You lean forward, taking his cock into your mouth, feeling the velvety smoothness against your tongue. You close your lips around him, taking him as deep as you can, and begin to bob your head up and down.

His hands run through your hair, cupping your head as he watches you work him. You can feel the way he trembles, the way his hips jerk forward as you suck him deeper, the way his breath hitches in his throat. You know he's close, and you want nothing more than to feel him come in your mouth.

Pulling back, you look up at him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. His eyes are half-closed, his head tilted back, his expression one of pure bliss. You reach out, tracing a finger along his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertip. "I want to feel you inside me," you whisper, and he groans, his hips jerking forward again.

He helps you to your feet, his hands on your waist, and guides you back to the couch. You climb onto the cushions, legs spread wide, and watch as he positions himself between your thighs. He brushes a stray hair out of your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone, before leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His cock presses against your folds, and with one smooth motion, he pushes inside of you.

You gasp, feeling the stretch of his length as he fills you. He groans, his hips stuttering as he begins to thrust, the rhythm echoing in your core. His hands move to your hips, holding you steady as he takes you roughly, your body meeting his thrust for thrust. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your nails digging into the soft cushion beneath you.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense, his expression a mixture of lust and possession. His lips find your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin, leaving a sting that feels almost as good as the thrust of his hips. "You're so fucking tight," he growls, his words vibrating against your skin.

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with equal force. Your nails scrape down his back, leaving a trail of red lines on his skin. You can feel the tension building inside you, the familiar ache spreading through your core. "I'm close," you gasp, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

He groans, his hips moving faster, his cock thrusting deeper. "Cum for me," he urges, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss. You shudder, your orgasm washing over you in a wave of heat and pleasure. Your inner walls tighten around him, milking his cock as you cry out his name.

His thrusts grow jerky and rough, and you feel the warmth of his release deep inside you. He groans, his body shuddering as he empties himself, his hips still moving even as he collapses onto you, pinning you beneath his weight. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest heaving against yours.

For a moment, you're lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, feeling the weight of his body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin seared into your memory. You luxuriate in the intimacy of the moment, reveling in the way he moves against you, the way he feels inside you.

He rolls off you, collapsing to the side, still breathing heavily. You watch him, tracing a lazy finger along the lines of his chest, admiring the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders, "I don't remember it feeling that good,"

"What?"

You laugh, turning your head to look at him. "You know what I mean."

"I think you mean, round 2," he smirked.

"Oh really?" you asked, a smirk of your own painting your lips, "You think you're up for it, old man?"

He swiftly pins you down again, "I'll show you who's an old man, darlin'"

[A/N] I feel like it didn't turn out as good as i imagined.

[ryuichirou]

The mystery of the Ortho smut fic: the plot thickens

Since we’ve gotten a couple of asks about this topic, I’ll put all of them in one post.

It’s related to these two asks, by the way. I hope all the mentioned Anons find each other… Although I’m not sure if it’s possible + I’m now confused about just how many Anons we have in this particular conversation lol but hey, at least all of you are here!

Anonymous asked:

To answer the Ortho smut fic anon unfortunately no it wasn't your fic but from what I saw it was typed on discord and not ao3 so thankfully (?) it also wasn't your fic

But now I want to read an Ortho smut fic 😔

Just posting this one :)

Anonymous asked:

the anon who wrote ortho x reader smut and, yes, there is a huge lack of actual ortho x reader orz i feed from the four pixiv artists who draw yuu x ortho together with an app that translates pictures and shroudcest because Ortho looks so yummy. half of what you find in ortho x reader is him being a matchmaker for Idia, and i don't dislike Idia but oh god the flanderization. let the boy kiss his brother or kiss both his brother and me, fandom ;w; didn't he become his own person in book 6

btw all my ortho x reader is written with sharing Ortho with Idia in mind. i just can't believe in a world where Idia didn't touch the shota robot if not his flesh brother.

It really is sad that Ortho’s entire role just ends up being “someone who is a support team on the background”. Just like you said, he is his own person, and even if we don’t go to the smut territory, it’s interesting how no one seems to be interested in playing around with how he could act in a romantic setting.

(yaaay, Shroudcest found its way into the yuuships lol; I also feel like I know at least one pixiv artist that you’re talking about)

Anonymous asked:

In response to previous anon’s mention of Ortho x reader smut, I’m in the middle of Ao3’s first every Ortho x Vil fic (yeah you guessed it, it’s the OruVil/VilOrtho shipper 🤖👑).

If you want a link (as it’s a bit of a monster fic) I’ll gladly share with you and all the Ortho fans out there.

Time to combine our fangirling/fanboying and give him much deserved love!!

Yaaay, OruVil shipper Anon, hi! Please keep doing what you’re doing, this ship needs to exist on Ao3, it just has to. I’m not sure how we’ll handle this entire conversation from now on, it’s a bit chaotic, but you can still share your fic!

Anonymous asked:

I'm so disappointed I went looking through the Ortho x reader tag out of curiosity and it's all platonic

You’re in good company, Anon. I hope the situation changes soon lol

[snowflakeanimelover]

Relationship: Slenderman & Reader(enemies)

Fandom: Creepypasta

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, mention of death, murders, typical creepypasta violence/gore, lots of backstory, lots of lore

DISCLAIMER: Creepypasta belongs to their rightful owners. Nothing belongs to me but the plot, the two main characters(and extra OCS), and drawings(unless specified otherwise). The middle artwork up there in the banner does not belong to me. Found it on Pinterest. Both left and right drawings are mine(Samuela on left, Kathrine on right)

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Chapter 1(?)

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It all started about two months ago. Deaths were happening so often, it was almost driving people out of the small town. Random murders and people going missing is all it was. And it was terrifying. Some people tried to ignore the news all together just to keep themselves sane, while most paid attention to it and listened to every word. A kid going missing Monday, a random family murder Tuesday, another kid missing Wednesday, a store clerk murdered Thursday, so on and so forth.

It’s safe to say it wasn’t normal.

“It has to be him, Sam,” Jessica says with confidence. Samuela’s best friend since childhood, Jessica Markinson, has been going on about this creepy legend. She claims this man in this legend is the whole reason behind these abnormal deaths.

“Come on, Slenderman? It’s just a legend, Jess,” Sam argues back. She has a hard time believing such legends. How is it possible for a man to be practically ten feet tall and have no face? And wear a tuxedo?

“But you have to admit that it’s no coincidence, right? I mean, all these kids going missing? Legend says Slenderman kidnaps kids and young adults for their souls.” She tried to make herself creepy to scare Samuela, but the girl wasn’t having it.

Samuela runs a hand through her brown, boy-cut hair, her nose twitching slightly as she feels a sneeze coming on. “Hold on, I’m about to sneeze,” she says, acting like she’s going to do the very action.

“Pineapple!” Jessica calls out randomly, something she usually does when someone is about to sneeze. She claims it helps them not sneeze, getting their mind off of it.

Instead, it did the opposite. Samuela actually sneezes, as she was only trying to fake it. She sniffles, rubbing her nose instinctively. “Sorry, I’m allergic to your bullshit,” she says, laughing at her own joke.

Jessica frowns, but it soon turns into a smile. “Sam, I’m serious though…hey, your sister went missing for a few years back then, wasn’t she?” After she saw her best friend frown as soon as she said those words, she looked away in shame. “Um…sorry. Forgot that's a sensitive topic…” she mumbles.

Samuela shakes her head gently, knowing her best friend to forget things often and get too excited about things. “It’s….fine. I’ve been seeing a therapist, you know? She’s been helping me….speak more about it.” Jessica looked up at Samuela in promise, her eyes widening in slight excitement.

“Anyways, I don’t think it’d have anything to do with it, you know? I mean, she came back, didn’t she? If Slenderman is real, then she wouldn’t…” Samuela looks down at her feet as she walks on the sidewalk. “…She wouldn’t have come back…”

Jessica rests a hand on her best friend’s back, comforting her in a way. “I know…sorry I brought it up.”

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A long day of school had Samuela beat. After the talk with her friend, she couldn’t stop thinking about the legend, the random deaths, and…well, her older sister.

Samuela’s older sister disappeared after the death of their parents. She was left alone in the care of their aunt and uncle. And three years later, her sister came back. When she came back, she took Samuela under her care once doctors said she was stable enough. Her older sister was now her guardian.

She sat at the table, leaning back in her chair and away from her homework to take a break. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything. Her green eyes bore deeply into the textbook and notebook, her hand nervously twisting the gem stud piercing in her nose.

“Quit messing with it,” Her older sister's voice broke her concentration, and she quickly pulled her fingers away from her nose piercing. She grumbles, looking at her homework then up at her sister. Her older sister sat down at the table, a plate of food now before the two of them. “What’s got you so nervous, anyway?” She asks, taking a bite of her food. She glanced at Samuela for a split second, then focused her gaze on the paperwork in one of her hands.

Samuela now stared at her food, her thoughts being too loud to eat, somehow. “Nothing, just….” She pauses, thinking even more about her words.

When Samuela looks up, she sees the green eyes of her sister. She held a bored expression, as if she didn’t want to be there in the first place. But she knew that wasn’t it. Ever since her disappearance, and her arrival….she somehow became different. Both emotionally and…physically.

“I hear a but in that sentence, Sam.” She says.

“Kat,” she suddenly says, going for it, “remember when you said you’d answer any questions I had about the….incident….?”

Kathrine sets her utensil down, straightening in her seat a bit. This had gone serious, and she could sense it as soon as her little sister entered the house. It was tense from the beginning, since she came back home.

Either way, a promise is a promise. “Yeah, I do….what’s up, kiddo?”

Samuela felt a chuckle bubble up from her throat. It was sudden and cut short, as if she was going insane. She didn’t know why, but it was a bit funny for her to ask such a question. “Jessica…she was doing some research about these random deaths,” she starts slowly, “and she’s connecting it with this stupid legend…” Her words stop, her mind wondering how to continue.

But Kathrine knew where this was going. She slowly leaned back in her chair, preparing for the question. For him to be brought up. “What legend….?”

Samuela chuckles again, “Oh man, it’s so unbelievable she’d connect this stupid legend with these deaths. That’s Jessica for you, I guess,” Samuela mumbles, now rambling off before getting to the point. “Slenderman. Do you know anything about that legend?” She finally says, meeting her sister's eyes with such a serious expression, you’d think she was really interested in the topic.

Kathrine narrows her eyes, staring at Samuela. She felt she could uncover some secrets by doing so, but she got nothing. She wasn’t psychic, either. “Yeah, I do,” she says with a monotone voice. Kathrine could tell, though, that her sister isn’t seeing the tall man himself. Or she’d be more frightened in speaking about him. This was all just part of Samuela and Jessica’s detective games. She wanted to tell them to stop. To stop talking about him and forget about him completely. But…she figured they aren’t the only ones thinking about the so-called legend.

Kathrine suddenly puts on a smile and nods, “It’s a legend, after all. An old one at that. My friends and I made fun of it for a long time in school,” she says as she gets up, grabbing her practically full plate of dinner. “Now, eat your dinner. You need the energy for wrestling tomorrow.”

Samuela felt suspicious about her older sister's actions. This wasn’t like her. Her expression….she looked too serious about it. “What about you….?” She decides to ask instead, seeing as her sister only took a couple of bites before throwing it away.

Kathrine sets the empty plate in the sink, her back towards her sister. “I….lost my appetite.” Then, she quickly headed to her room.

As soon as Kathrine closed the door behind her and sat down on her bed, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The nervous tics started to appear as her body began to shake a little in slight fear. Trauma is what it was. But….after so long…she had already lost most of her emotions. She barely cared. Ever since she got back, she hardly even flinched when the legendary tall man was mentioned.

But now…now it was her sister getting involved. No….she won’t let her get involved.

Kathrine looks down at her arm. She pulls the sleeve of her shirt to her elbow, her fingers gently raking over the scar. The mark. A mark of a circle with an X in the middle of it.

“Over my dead body, Slenderman….”

[desolationcleo]

Coming back to this post to reblog with the above meme and seeing the end of my own tags.

Yeah. It is, isn't it. Y'all changed me. Like you wouldn't believe.

Remembering that time I drew myself and like 5 trafficblr mutuals of mine hanging out in my living room watching Limited Life with pizza. Remembering all the spam-booping in April.

💚

This one goes out to Kingdom Come by The Civil Wars and That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil. To that you get it, you understand like no one else, the same-wavelength that's made me wonder if you're me from another reality. To how I found that Ren and Lizzie fae AU, and that fic where Grian and Martyn chat about devotion, and of course Elements of an Interdimensional Prison Break. To rolling up to you with the implications of Pearl being on Evo but not appearing in the games until Last Life. To "yes I do want to hear about the animatics in your head". To seeing a Hooty pfp who's obsessed with Watcher lore and sending the link to an Owl House fansong called Eyes On You that reminds me of Last Life. To recognizing how much the Watchers would love Pearl at least in Double Life. To rescue by the Listeners, and the idea of Grian helping somehow. To Watchers controlling mobs. To where and how I first learned that PMV has a second meaning besides the MLP fandom one. To how Grian may well have thought Third Life would be his last chance ever at living as a human. To listening to Safe & Sound and imagining two Evo members who escaped, singing it to each other after Pearl goes missing sometime in between 3L and LL, trying to convince themselves and each other that they really did make it out and they won't be next, neither of them really believing it.

To the concept of Grian no longer having a physical form being a major drive for his participation in 3rd Life, wanting to feel something even if it's just pain. To the "imagine all the small things he'd never do again" thread that makes me stare into space whenever I reread it. To Grian not even knowing what he wants out of being in the Life games. To Grian and Martyn dropkicking pumpkins. To "you'll never have another chance to love them the way you do now". To a shared obsession with the concept of the Evolutionists who wound up in Third/Last Life being grieved as though they died by the ones who escaped. To the idea of Skizz trying to get help to save his friends and being recaptured for it. To Grian reflecting on the Listeners' opinions of him and if he'd even be considered someone to save in their minds. To "I'm having a day" "You and me both".

To how when I saw the void scene at the end of the Limited Life finale and I went "hey this looks familiar", and somehow didn't see a single other person bring it up in the weeks that followed, I talked about it in your inbox because I knew if there was anyone else on this webbed site who noticed, it was you.

To that drawing I did of Skizz and Pearl with the words "thought we could run forever club".

💛

This one goes out to sculk Listeners with wool cloaks and teal specks of light forming gradients on their hands. To Grian meeting the Listeners, who have a question for him. To lyrics from It Will Come Back applied to Something For The Eyes. To Martyn as Orpheus trying to rescue his Southlands friends, bring them back from the dead. To the time I sent you an ask theorizing that Gem is a Listener agent, knowing full well you'd ignore the word "agent". To sending Music Of The Fears to your TMA blog, talking about it from my TMA blog, that you never knew was me. To all the canaryblogging. To the fic title idea list we made. To the things I've seen you manage to make lore out of that I wouldn't have second-glanced. To the thread where I realized it's likely Grian did hear BigB forgiving him after all.

To Grian shielding BigB and Pearl from the eyes they can feel are Watching them, to "yeet me concepts like this all you want" leading to the sheer number of asks I've sent you with things I wanted to talk about. To Scar's pain being eaten away in his last moments by Grian. To referring to Jimmy doing missions for the Listeners as him singing. To lucid dreaming in the void between games, letting oneself briefly disconnect from the illusion and feel oneself falling just to experience something real again. To "they grieve death not because it is the end of everything but because it takes from them what should have stayed forever". To my Nosy Neighbours TMA AUs. To Grian's first meal as a Watcher being from one of his friends. To all those times where I posted something and you reblogged going feral about it.

To "desolation tags always hit" and "you really know how to make someone insane" and "all i know is desolationcleo tags now" and "i blame desolationcleo for this one" and "but i'm also insane so" "love that for us" and your tags about wanting to study my brain up close.

To that drawing I did of Martyn sitting on the Southlands walls at night, asking Jimmy what he'd do if they could escape it all.

❤️

This one goes out to a header that's an image I made based on a post of yours. To the Rescue Team theory. To dropping the link to Song Of The Hive after you finished TMA season 1. To you finding my main blog and my responding in roleplay when you indirectly ask if it's me, until I take off the hood of my cloak and confirm that yes, I'm who you're thinking of. To the songs and the poems. To first meeting by rambling about all the evidence pointing to the Watchers doing something to Pearl so they could reroll the boogeyman in Last Life. To canaryblogging at length about the Four Miners and getting the reply "how has this not blown up yet". To singing The Middle Of Nowhere together, a song I discovered when you put it on my dash that has since made it to the top 3 of my YouTube seasonal recap twice. To running up to you at once with my observation that red life Scar in season 2 meets all the requirements to be a lich. To the Hadestown lyrics. To the time you basically called me your sister. To the dream where I was back in high school and you were there and we skipped class to talk about the Life series. To "your artstyle is monchy /pos".

To the time you wrote the fansong I wished existed.

To the screaming and crying and wailing reaction images exchanged over Three, running to each other with each new chapter, ever since you came into my inbox with that fic rec. To the time I asked if anyone wanted some songs to go insane about Watcher lore to and you raised your hand at once. To two glasses of fruit juice, one for each of us.

To that drawing I did of Scar alone on the mountain with tears in his eyes, my choice of character being driven by the knowledge that the Lone Sorcerer of Magical Mountain is your blorbo supreme.

👁️

For as inactive at best and deactivated at worst that they might be, they're still here. I carry them with me everywhere I go.

Wherever they are now, we raise our cups to them.

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm being annoying by frequently posting eyesandears or that my followers will be sick of it but then I remember there's like 3 people I've bonded with because they were openly and unapologetically obsessed with watcher lore

[khonshus-stardust]

Jealousy? What Jealousy?

Pairings: Khonshu/reader (gender neutral but female bodied) Steven Grant/reader

Words: 3384

Summary: Work has had you busy but you've finally come to a break. When you awoke, you ate breakfast then sat down for some drawing. It's almost three in the afternoon when you realized how much time you've been sitting down for. Steven, one of your lovers, makes a comment about it so you get up. A special bird man appears in your apartment. Words are exchange and you came to a conclusion.

He's jealous.

Author Note: Gender-neutral but mentions of female parts. If anyone wants a male one, let me know. I don’t mind writing for anyone.

More smut with Khonshu. This one isn't that great. I found a smut prompt that I liked but struggled to use for him. This was my second attempt after throwing away about 2000 words. Might have to use it for a different fandom.

Masterlist

Ao3

A free three days of work calls you as you sat at your computer, Clip Studio Paint pulled up. Your digital drawing tablet rested in your lap, months of use clearly etched into the screen. It’s bright light not harsh with the sun’s light pouring past the curtains as you worked. Yet, your eyes burned from possible hours of staring at the device.

One singular line giving much more trouble than it should be. After what felt like the hundredth time, you gave up, hands thrown up with a groan. You take a gulp from the nearby water bottle before deciding to stand up.

In all honest, that was a horrible decision to carry out. It was morning when you had last stood up, that’s when you first sat down for the day. Now, the was  two-thirds through the sky. Only a quarter of your water had been used up during that time.

All possible joints in your legs and back popped as you stood up. The noises drawing the attention of your reading lover. Steven cringed, brows pinched as his eyes gazed at you. “Honey, I think its time to stop for awhile. You need a break,” the man stated and set down his book. The cover read something about myths. You shrugged your shoulders though, gaze returning back to your work.

He was right. A bathroom and snack break was needed. “I know. Thanks, babe.” You walked up to him and placed a kiss on his forehead. A shy smile took over his features as you start to walk away from Steven. “Need anything from the kitchen?” you called over your shoulder.

“No thank you!” he responded. You entered the kitchen and easily grabbed the Oreos from the counter. There was whoosh of wind behind you as you turned around.

There stood Khonshu in all of his glory. His crescent staff gripped in hand while he held his head high. “Hey, Khon. Whatcha up to, love?” You stopped to leaned back against the island and gaze up at the impossibly tall god.

“I wanted to ensure the idiot wasn’t screwing about,” he responded and took the needed steps to enter your personal space, skull lowered.

On the other hand, you rolled your eyes and flicked his beak. Ever time he calls Steven that stupid name, you hated and he knew that. Did Khonshu stop though? No, not fully. But he has calmed down on the name calling and sort. “Steven is fine. He’s just reading while I draw. Want to join our little group or do you have godly duties to preform?” you teased and knocked your hip into his leg. It did nothing to move him.

The moon god hummed then used his ridiculously long arms to pull you into his side. “No, I don’t have any ‘godly duties’ to worry about, Stardust. I would like to join.” You bumped into him once more before grabbing his hand and dragging him towards your room.

“Perfect. You can sit and watch from my bed!” He had to duck to enter the room but stopped when he saw Steven on the bed. “There’s plenty of room for the two of you.” You tugged him towards the furniture. He paused after his legs hit the wooden base.

You moved back to your chair with your Oreos. Out of the corner of your eyes, Steven gave Khonshu a confused expression then looked at you. All you did was smile at him.

Well, until Khonshu grabbed his nearest arm and promptly pulled him off. Your mouth dropped as you stared wildly at him. “Khonshu!” you gasped and rushed over to Steven. The poor man rubbed at his head then glared at the god. You glared at Khonshu in disbelief! “What was that, mister?”

“Only you and I are allowed on this bed. Not the idiot.” One step forward. Two steps back! He was starting to come around then he does this. What was happening?!

With an angry mother look on your face, you marched up to him. “That was extremely rude of you.” Then you paused, a sudden thought randomly coming to your brain. “Are you jealous? Is that why you’ve been acting this way lately. You know by now that I care about Steven, Marc, and Jake. “

Khonshu scoffed then shook his head. “I’m not jealous. A god does not get jealous of a mortal.” His words only solidified your thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You are jealous,” you reiterated and crossed your arms. Behind you, Steven got to his feet and called your name. Yet, you ignored him for a minute.

“I would like to speak to you. Privately,” Khonshu demanded, staff slamming against the carpet. More wind swirled around the room. After the months of him in your life, you’ve learned to not have anything free floating in your apartment. Nothing came fluttering to hit you this time.

“I agree. I think it’s time we had a talk.” You walked over to Steven and held his hands in yours. “I’m sorry, Steven. Let me talk with him and clear this, alright?” Your lips pressed against his knuckles and smiled at him.

“Love, are you sure?” he questioned, worry bubbling in his eyes.

Your hands squeezed his. “Yeah, I can handle him all by myself. It’s just Khonshu,” you jestered. Steven stared for an extra moment before nodding his head. The man was still reluctant to walk into the living room but did nevertheless; your good boy.

With a deep breath, you faced the god still in your room and raised a brow. “What do you need to get off your chest, Khon? Something is bothering you.” The god was silent though as he took a seat where Steven had originally sat. Unlike usual, you didn’t feel his gaze upon your frame. Something was really going on with him. You decided to walk up to him and stand between his parted legs. One of your hands softly touched his beak. “Tell me, lover bird. What do you want? Why do you feel jealous?”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

One moment, you were on your feet. Next, your back pressed into the bed as Khonshu towered over you. Your hands gathered into only one of his, pinned high above your head. Both of your eyes blown wide at the sudden shift.

He wasn’t one for words. Actions spoke loud for the god from the years he has lived. Which meant, instead of telling, he was going to show you.

It hit you. Khonshu has walked in when you or one of his Moon Knights were pleasing your body. Many times, he’s paused to watch, you guessed now. His gaze pinned on your frame. The latest time, Marc had to throw a pillow for him to disappear. Unfortunately, that had ruined the mood and caused the two of you to stop.

Yes, he’s jealous. He wants that same affection. He’s been starved from affection for a long time. Human or not, no one can go on living.

“I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t like it. You can do whatever you want, lover bird.” Oh, those words made the immortal before you shake. “Have your way with me.”

Khonshu takes that to heart, or what’s there for that organ. Your clothes are removed before you could call his name. But then, he stops, all excitement paused as his gaze raked down your frame. That pause caused you to worry though and whispered his name.

His skull shot up to stare at your concerned expression. He let his free hand start on your breasts, letting your nipple be pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. You softly moaned his name like a prayer and he drank it up like a thirsty man. He did it again, eating up your reactions.

It’s not his first time. Can’t be when he’s been alive for thousands of years. But it was his first time with you. You were different in his nonexistent eyes. He wants to pick you apart and find what makes you tick, what makes you moan, squirm, whine for him. It came to him though, he lacked a humanoid mouth but made up in it with his nimble fingers.

They wandered from your breasts to your labia. His pointer fingers slowly dragging around the outside and watched as your back arched with a whine. A desperate and needy whine. “You sound so pretty, Stardust,” he whispered close to your ear.

That finger inches closer to where you needed it most before ghosting over that spot. Your legs clasped together and trapped his hand between them. Khonshu chuckled and used both hands to pry them back open. “Be patient, Little Bug. I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he stated and situated himself between your legs. “Now, be a good mortal and keep them open for me.”

Your core clenched at his words. Now, that was the only thought on you mind. You wanted to be his good mortal. So, you kept you legs open and arms above your head.

He returned to letting his finger wander aimlessly around your most sensitive area. But he pitied your whines and let his pointer rest on your hidden clit. You gasped, hips jutting up at the touch. “There you go, Little Bug. Is that what you want?” he teased.

“Yes! Please, Khonshu,” you begged and whined. The god laughed lowly and applied a small amount of pressure. Your thighs threatened to close to take all you could from this position. Instead, Khonshu held your wrists in his hand like before. You accidentally bucked your hips, making his hand move against your clit. “Oh, fuck, Khon. Please.”

Time seemed to stop at that moment. Khonshu took his time to absorb your beauty before him. He’s never been like this towards a human before. But for you, he would tear down the universe to ensure your safety.

Finally, the moon god used his thumb to circle your clit while his middle finger dipped into your core. It took all of your will power not to buck your hips. Or, better yet, switch positions with him and use him. He doesn’t know this but you’ve been wanting to fuck him about a month after you’ve met him. You were good at keeping secrets hidden.

“Good, Stardust, good,” he whispered; the end of his beak right next to your ear. You let your hips thrust up again and pushed his finger deeper. His thumb pressed against your clit almost perfectly. “Are you going to cum for your god, Little Bug? Are you going to be good for me?” The praise hit you deep. You’ve been strung tight over these past few weeks with little outlets. Masturbating hadn’t been hitting that growing itch as time continued. Now, Khonshu was scratching it perfectly.

You fought against his hold on your wrist but he wouldn’t let up. A sudden need to touch him passed over you. It was quickly squashed when Khonshu slid in another finger and curled them. He stroked the spongey spot inside of you. “F-faster, Khonshu, please.” If he went faster, you would cum for him. Like the good little mortal you are.

Khonshu listened to you and quickened his movements. In returned, he received a high-pitched moan. This time, you couldn’t help as your thighs locked around his hand again. Yet, he didn’t stop or let that slow him down. He continued.

His name was cried out like a prayer. It hit you hard, cumming underneath him. Your back arching, vagina throbbing around his fingers. Once again, he didn’t stop, fingers never once slowing. They just kept that same pace.

That drove you into the depth of oversensitivity. “Khon, s-stop,” you stuttered, body on the verge of curling in on itself. The god followed your words and paused all movements. The moment he did, your body relaxed, thighs falling open.

“Are you okay, Stardust?” he questioned and used the hand that was pinning your wrists to hold your chin. You softly smile and nodded your head.  You were more than okay.

“Yeah, but I wanna see what else you can do,” you challenged with a growing smirk. If he’s willing, why not take what he offers.  Khonshu gave a quick, short noise and tilted his skull as if he wanted a better look.

His hand returned to its originally spot between your legs and rubbed over your clit once more. Your back arched, still sensitive to any touches. “Now, you’re getting a little cocky. I can show you why that’s a bad idea.”

“Nah, I think you’re still jealous of the boys,” you teased with a full-blown smirk on your face. After earlier today, you know that’s a way to push his buttons. You wanted to see how he reacted when you did it. Maybe it was different compared to when any of the boys do it, especially Marc.

Wind rushed around the room, but nothing was knocked over. “I’m not jealous!” he growled then flipped you over on your hands and knees. Yet, one of his arms wrapped around your stomach and lifted you up. Most of your weight was on your arms which shook due to the new position. He kept close to his chest, hips pressed against you. His other arm holding up his weight and yours.

A knowing object slid between your legs and caused you to glance down. A cream-colored cock rested against your pussy. Khonshu pulled his hips back then, with the help of the arm wrapped around your waist, he position the tip of his dick at your entrance. “You don’t know what I look like when I’m jealous,” he snarked then pushed all the way in.

The previous orgasm helped him bottom all the way. A heady moan escaping as one of your hands finds his wrist and held onto it. “Fuck!” you shouted, walls pulsing around him. He was big and long, so deep inside of you. The size difference always hit different in thought. But it felt good, so good in real life. You’ve been needing this for so long. It seemed like he read your mind.

As rude as he could be, Khonshu kept his hips still and used the nearest hand to gently rub circles around your clit. You moaned and tried to push against him. All you wanted him to do was fuck you into the mattress. First, he needed to move.

He laughed quiet and thrusted once, pausing afterwards. You throbbed around him causing him to groan and tighten his hold. “Show me h-how jealous you are, Khonshu,” you challenged him once more with a knowing smirk on your face.

“The idiot is right out that door, remember? He’s probably listening to you moan underneath me,” he hissed and started up a pace. With his finger playing with your clit and your pussy full, you could only answer with a moan. “He can probably hear you, Stardust.”

Your toes curled at his words. Fuck. You didn’t know why that made you react that way. It shouldn’t be hot that you wanted Steven to hear, possibly watch your god fuck you into the bed; watch the way your face contorts when he rubs against your g-spot; watch your body shake with pleasure. You felt yourself clench around Khonshu’s cock at your thoughts. It felt so dirty to think that way but gods, you wished it would happen.

“Is that what you want? You want Steven to hear you moaning for me?” You answered by clenching his cock again, unable to verbally confirm his suspicions. Not that you freely wanted to anyhow. “Mm, you do, Little Bug.” He pauses his words as if to think about the scenario. “Not tonight. Tonight, you’re with me.”

Khonshu emphasize that with a harsh thrust of his hips. Your head whipped back, mouth dropped. He whimpered something about being good for him, his little good mortal.

It wasn’t long before you felt that familiar tightening in the pit of your belly. The arm holding you up gave out. Instead, Khonshu sat back on his calves and held you against his chest. That didn’t stop him from driving his cock into you.

Now, he had a free hand to roam around your body. It slithered around your throat for a moment – a show of power – before pinching at your nipples. More curse escaped from you. The new actions only pushed you closer and closer to end. “Khonshu, please.”

“I know, Stardust. It’s okay, you can cum. Cum for your god,” he soothed and kept the same pace, never once changing the angle, speed, or harshness.

Something about him ended it all. Your hands clawed for purchase, anything to steady yourself on this nonexistent cliff. Nothing prepared you as the band inside of you snapped.

Your entire body tensed, head thrown back against his chest as he kept up the same speed. His name screamed out, loud enough to probably worry the neighbors. The float down was the best. You felt blissful, head lazing back, throat humming contently.

As your mind came back to the realm, you felt the god behind you stutter before shoving you fully on his cock. A warm stickiness dripping from your full pussy and onto the bed. “Good boy, Khonshu,” you praised the god with a hoarse voice. “You’re filling me so good.” If he wasn’t holding onto you tightly before, there was no chance for escape now; even though that wasn’t a thought on your mind.

Finally, the god collapsed onto his side, still deep inside of, not letting you go. You allowed him to hold you as close as he wanted and enjoyed the company. His hand gone from being between your thighs. “Are you trying to knock me up or something, mister?” His arm muscles tensed at your words.

“Don’t tempt me, Stardust,” he growled and nuzzled his beak between the area of your neck and shoulder. Your walls pulsed around him at his answer. Khonshu chuckled. “Unless you want that.”

“A talk for another time, lover bird. Now, could you release me, please?” you asked and wiggled against him. His hips dragged back his cock only to shove it back in. Another curse spilling from your lips. “Come on. I have to make sure I don’t get a UTI.” One of the bad things of having a female body and sex.

The god has been on this earth and around humans to know what this is. “And I would just heal you,” he said without moving an inch.

“Please, love?” you begged with pout he possibly could see.

It was silent between the two of you before he finally released you from his hold. “Fine, just don’t let Steven touch you. You’re still mine.” You sighed before dislodging yourself and standing up, legs wobbling but still of use.

There was a smirk on your face couldn’t see from this angle. You began to walk away, hips sashing. “I guess I was right, Khon. You are jealous of them,” you jestered towards him as you opened the door and turned your head back. The god moved to be on his back, beak up towards the ceiling. His knees below hung off the bed, arms spread out.

“You’re calling that jealousy? Believe me, if you can still use your legs, I’m not being jealous,” he stated with a firm, knowing tone. Your lips pressed together. Then an idea hit you.

“What about next time?” you questioned, actually wanting to know if he’s willing for another time. You hoped that this wasn’t a one and done. You loved him, more than you’re willing to admit out loud with him anywhere near you.

The god laughed, chest shaking with the motion. That caused doubt to bubble. “Next, you’ll need to take a week from work off.” Your mouth dropped at his words. “I’ll also being using that mouth of yours.”

With that, you scrambled out of the room, ignoring the red blushing look that Steven had on his face. The bathroom was your savor for the moment. Yet, thoughts of next time couldn’t stop appearing in your mind.

You hoped next time wasn’t far away.

[rax-writes]

More 》 Part Two

Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings:  Sexual intercourse, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving) [reader is a female-identifying individual with a vagina] Notes:  Part two of More  》 I cannot thank you guys enough for how well More did, and I hope that you enjoy this addition to it!  》 I honestly didn’t edit this all that extensively, so if there are any errors, please let me know. ♥

At the break of dawn the next morning, you found yourself on a loading dock for shipment containers with Sharon, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo – pretending all the while that nothing had happened between you and the latter individual. You wore a sweater with a high neckline, per Zemo’s suggestion, and interacted with him exactly the same way that you had before. He did a good job at selling the lie as well, although he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes to himself, frequently staring at you for far longer than he should have, that dark, hungry look in his eyes returning if his gaze lingered for too long.

“All right, he’s in there,” Sharon announced, stopping in the middle of the massive metal boxes. “Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel, but hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

You accepted one of the earpieces she offered, getting it into place as she walked off. When the four of you entered the container, you found that it was empty, and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.

“Hey, Sharon, you sure this is the right one?” Sam inquired incredulously. “It’s completely empty.”

“Positive. It has to be.”

You entered the container, the other three right behind you, and closed your eyes as they looked around.

“He’s here. I can hear his thoughts,” you announced, then began to pick the doctor’s brain further. “Push against the back wall. There’s a secret passageway.”

Zemo did as you bade him, and sure enough, the wall moved backwards a bit, to allow him to open the hidden door. He shot you a curt nod of approval, then stepped back to allow Sam to enter first, and the rest of you followed suit.

Music filled the air, a swanky song you didn’t recognize, as you stalked through the laboratory, your gun aimed dead ahead and eyes peeled.

“Follow me,” you whispered, taking the lead as you easily navigated to the physical source of Dr. Nagel’s thoughts. When you saw him, his back was to you, slouched over whatever he was working on as he hummed along to the tune. Sam silently walked over and removed the needle from the record that played the music, and Nagel turned around slowly, fear written all over his face.

“Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab,” Nagel commanded, as if he was in any position to give orders. He began to walk toward the exit, but you stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand flat against his bony chest.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. Not until you tell us what we need to know,” you informed him without speaking, your voice infiltrating his mind. Nagel let out a frightened gasp as he looked behind him, apparently thinking that may be the source of the voice, before his eyes landed on you.

“You,” he whispered, his voice a mix of confusion, fear, and awe as you met his gaze with harsh eyes. “You – you spoke to me, in my head. How did you do that?”

“She can read your mind, and she can also control it. So, I’d advise you to answer our questions, before she forces you to,” Sam threatened, then watched as Nagel took note of Bucky across the room. “And you know who he is, right?” He then grabbed Nagel by the arm and turned him to face Zemo. “This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right?” He dragged Nagel to the nearest wall, shoving him against it as his back collided with the metal grate. “You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you better become conversational real quick.”

“How ‘bout a counter proposal? Make me a better offer, and I’ll talk,” Nagel proposed.

“Guys, we have company,” Sharon’s voice stated through the earpiece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!”

Bucky grabbed Nagel by his shirt and dragged him over to a chair, forcing him down roughly before pointing his gun at Nagel’s head, finger on the trigger. He still didn’t look terribly interested in talking, so you lowered your weapon and narrowed your eyes at him, and used your abilities to insight sheer, unadulterated fear in his mind. His eyes widened and he visibly paled as his mind wreaked havoc on itself, instilling a very pure, very powerful terror within him.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk! Just stop it!”

You ended the onslaught of panic, and raised your gun once again, as your three companions eyed you with curiosity, unsure of what exactly you’d just done to him. But there would be time for an explanation later.

Nagel explained how he formulated the super soldier serum, and you all listened intently to his little tale. That was when you heard it. Like the crack of a twig in an otherwise silent forest, yet making no audible sound at all, you heard it.

“I must kill him.”

You looked over at Zemo as nonchalantly as possible, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d picked up on his decision. The two of you shared tense eye contact for several beats, and you knew that you must make a choice. Allow Zemo to end this man’s life, and end the possibility of additional serums being created, or warn Sam and Bucky of his intentions?

“You know the damage unchecked Super Soldiers can cause. He is dangerous; he must be stopped.”

Zemo spoke directly to you in his mind, and you took the opportunity to dig deeper, searching for any sign that he was going to betray you, Sam, and Bucky. When you found none, you sighed quietly as you made your choice, and returned your attention to Nagel. Out of your peripheral, you saw Zemo begin perusing the room, feeling underneath tables in the lab in search of a secluded weapon.

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky inquired, and when Nagel hesitated, he pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple, prompting an answer of no. “Now what?”

Sharon ran into the room then, announcing, “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo took her distraction as an opportunity to draw his gun and shoot Nagel in the chest, straight through his heart. Sam tackled Zemo, and Sharon took the gun from his hand, whispering, “What did you do?”

The very next moment, the entire place exploded, erupting into flames as you, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon hit the deck, although Zemo was nowhere to be found when you groaned in pain and looked around the room from your position on the floor. Bucky pulled you to your feet, then Sharon, then Sam, as the four of you exited the container before it could explode from all the chemicals and fire in Nagel’s lab. You didn’t quite make it, as a gas-fueled explosion went off just as you exited the container, but you were far enough away from it that it merely blew your hair forward. Once outside, the adrenaline wore off just enough that you felt a blinding pain in your torso, and looked down to see blood quickly soaking through your sweater.

“Bucky,” you called out, and he turned quickly, a frown forming on his face when he saw your injury. You lifted your shirt to reveal a thin, jagged, three-inch long sliver of metal embedded in the center of your abdomen. Sam turned to bark orders at the two of you, but his face fell as he saw the blood.

Sharon made quick work of removing the metal, which was thankfully only about an inch or less in width, so it wasn’t at all deadly. Truthfully, it wasn't that bad of an injury, but god was it bleeding like hell. Bucky yanked off his jacket and handed it to you, instructing you to apply pressure to the wound and stick close to him. Your three companions shot at the bounty hunters that were approaching, and you did your best to fire a few shots yourself, your other hand pressing the jacket firmly against your injury. Sam shot you a disapproving look and told you to focus on yourself, but you ignored him.

While Sam and Bucky began bickering about who should have followed whose orders, there was yet another deafening explosion nearby. You looked in that direction to see Zemo with some sort of mask on, jumping down from atop some storage containers, before leaping over some metal piping and dodging past a man to evade his bullets, then grabbing him by the collar to use him as a human shield. He fired multiple rounds at the nearby bounty hunters, before releasing his grip on the first man and kicking him away, then shot him too. He looked at you through the flames, and you didn’t have to read his mind to know how exhilarated he felt, being truly back in action after spending years in a cell.

If asked, you’d chalk it up to the blood loss, but… goddamn, he looked hot kicking ass like that.

“Go,” Bucky ordered, helping you up and wrapping an arm around your waist to steady and guide you as the four of you made a break for it. Eventually, you reached an open storage container, and Sam helped you into it as Bucky fended off the last few bounty hunters.

When Bucky burst through the back of the container with his vibranium arm, you heard tires screech and an engine rev, before Zemo pulled up in a sports car.

“Supercharged,” he stated with the faintest smile. Christ, he was just a little bit of a goofball, wasn’t he?

“You’re going back to jail,” Sam said angrily, then turned to you. “And you were supposed to tell us if he was going to screw us over.”

“Nagel shouldn’t have been kept alive. I know you don’t like it, but it is the truth,” you reasoned.

“He didn’t have to die though, dammit! He could have just gone to jail, locked up for the rest of his life!”

“Oh, yes, just like Zemo? The man standing five feet from us, very much not in jail?” you countered, and he frowned, knowing you had a point. “Once word got out that Nagel knew how to recreate the serum, every power hungry individual and group in the world would be trying to find a way to either break him out or ask him about it. And I’m sure he would have told anyone for the right price. Even if the serum didn’t fall into the hands of the wrong people, even if a seemingly good-natured country like America were to get ahold of it, it could still be used for evil. They clearly don’t have the best moral compass, considering the asshole they gave Captain America’s shield to.”

“Alright, yeah, you’ve made your point,” Sam grumbled. “But I still think we should take Zemo back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo interjected.

“He’s right, we need him. And there’s three of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on,” Bucky said, pulling open the door of the car before turning around to help you into the vehicle. Only then did Zemo notice the blood on your hands and sweater, and Bucky’s blazer pressed against your torso.

“What happened to her?” Zemo inquired, sitting up to help you sit behind him, and frowning when you grimaced as you maneuvered into your seat, careful not to get any blood on the lovely cream interior. The car didn’t belong to any of you, but it was so beautiful that you hated to harm it.

“Stray shard of metal during the explosion in Nagel’s container,” you explained, grimacing a little as you leaned your head against the headrest behind you, eyes closed as you willed the pain to subside.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be. Probably just needs a few stitches, then I’ll be good as new,” you assured him, shooting him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn’t seem to buy before he removed his trenchcoat and laid it on top of you.

“You look cold,” he muttered, then turned back around in his seat to face the steering wheel.

“Fine, but if you try that shit again…” Sam told Zemo as he climbed into the car.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zemo responded, and you didn’t have to check his thoughts to know that that was a complete lie.

Sharon bid you all goodbye, and Sam thanked her for her help before sliding down into his seat.

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam asked Bucky.

“No,” he deadpanned, causing you to chuckle under your breath, which earned you a glare from Sam.

The drive back to the airport was mostly silent, which you were thankful for, as you didn’t really have the energy for talking. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but you’d still lost enough and exerted yourself enough that you were feeling fatigued. Zemo parked the car on the landing strip, a short distance from his jet, and was quick to exit the vehicle to help you out. You thought you were doing quite well, until you actually stood up outside the car, and the exhaustion combined with some wooziness from the blood loss made your knees buckle. You would have fallen if Zemo hadn’t lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“Let us get you aboard the plane, and I will dress your wound,” he said, then stooped to scoop you up into his arms bridal-style, and began carrying you toward the jet. Sam and Bucky eyed him curiously, but said nothing. Admittedly, you were too flustered by the close proximity and his gentleness toward you to say anything yourself. You looked over his shoulder, admiring his stolen vehicle one last time.

In Sokovian, you stated with a smile, “I’d like one of those by the way, the Pontiac.”

“Whatever your heart desires,” he responded calmly, matching your Sokovian. As he approached Oeznik, who stood beside the steps of the jet, he continued in that language as he instructed the butler, “Have that car, or one exactly like it, delivered to Berlin as soon as possible, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Zemo laid you down gently on the couch inside the plane, Sam and Bucky following close behind. Once inside, Oeznik brought Zemo the first aid kit, a needle, and some stitching. Both of the other men offered to do it themselves, but Zemo insisted that he could do a better job than both of them combined. In a manner much unlike the night before, Zemo lifted your shirt to have access to the wound, and set to work. Bucky let you hold his hand as Zemo cleaned the area and did the stitches, while you forced yourself to breathe evenly and ignore the pain of the antiseptic and the needle. A mere fifteen minutes later, you were all patched up, and Zemo was helping you up and sending you to the washroom with a change of clothes.

“You’re gettin’ real sweet on her, Zemo,” you heard Sam note, his tone suspicious. “You better watch yourself, man. Step out of line with her and we won’t hesitate to end you.”

“Understood,” Zemo replied nonchalantly, then you could hear him open a book and take a sip of his champagne. For your own amusement, you took a peek into his mind, and found that he was thinking, “Too late.”

You smiled to yourself as you undressed, carefully removing the blood-soaked sweater and placing it in a trash bag. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you first noticed the hickeys from last night, then the miscellaneous cuts scattered across your skin from the various explosions, and the gauze taped over your wound. The hickeys caused your smile to widen further, and you donned the plain black t-shirt of Zemo’s and his loose gray sweatpants before rejoining them in the lounge. His eyes darkened in that way as his gaze raked up and down your body, clearly enjoying the sight of you in his clothing, but he quickly returned his attention to Sam.

“She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggested, then leaned back in his seat. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face-to-face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.”

A few hours later, Bucky and Sam had fallen asleep after reclining their chairs and dimming the lights, as you laid on the couch, halfway asleep yourself despite the book in your hands. Once their near-identical snores had filled the cabin for several minutes, Zemo stood from his seat and came to crouch down beside your head. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I must admit, I was very concerned when I saw all the blood on your shirt. I have only just found you, my Sokovian beauty. I would prefer to draw out having the privilege of being acquainted with you for as long as possible, but I cannot do that if you get killed.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” you teased, and he smiled softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of my injury earlier.” He said nothing in response, simply smiled a bit wider and kissed you again, longer this time, but still far shorter and far less intimately than you’d have preferred. You both had to take the others into consideration, even despite their snores, because you were quite certain they’d put a bullet between Zemo’s eyes and send you home immediately if they learned just how “sweet on you” the man truly was. He stood and fetched a blanket from an overhead cabinet before laying it over you, then pressed his lips to your forehead, and returned to his seat.

“Goodnight, Liebling,” Zemo said softly, flicking off the last light in the cabin as he settled back into his seat.

“Goodnight, Baron.”

—————

Riga was somehow comparably chaotic to Madripoor, in terms of the events that transpired there.

Shortly after you arrived at Zemo’s estate, Bucky returned from his "walk" to declare that the Wakandans were there to take Zemo, although he bought some time. In all honesty, you were only half-ass listening to him, because Zemo had exited the bathroom with wet hair and a purple robe that revealed half his chest. He caught you staring and shot you a subtle wink while Sam and Bucky were talking, and you rolled your eyes in return.

Next stop was a refugee camp, where you, Bucky, and Sam searched in vain to get any information on Danya Madani. Zemo somehow managed to accomplish the task, albeit in the creepiest way possible, which you teased him relentlessly for on the walk back to his flat. When he revealed that the girl he'd spoken to told him the time and location of the funeral, but refused to tell any of you, Bucky was quick to anger, snatching the teacup from Zemo’s hand and throwing it against the wall. Sam talked him down before you grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him gently toward the door.

"Come on, let's take a walk. I saw a little farmer's market down the road; let's go have a snack and explore a little, yeah?" you asked, your tone calm and soothing to contrast the rage that swarmed in his mind, and Bucky nodded gravely to you as he let you lead him. When you glanced back into the flat as you closed the door behind you, you saw that Zemo was wearing a frown, and a quick peek at his thoughts informed you that he was pouting a bit, wishing you'd have just sent Bucky off and stayed with him. You rolled your eyes internally, then accompanied Bucky to the market, where the two of you ate some plums and took a little walk. When the two of you returned to the flat, Zemo announced that it was time to head to the funeral.

"Did you enjoy your little excursion with James?" Zemo inquired in Sokovian, a tinge of spite in his voice. "Did you relieve his tension?"

"It wouldn't be any of your business if I did," you shot back, also in Sokovian. The disdain on his face disappeared quickly, and you added, "But no, we just took a walk and had some food, as I said we would. Jealousy does not suit you, Baron."

Zemo's voice took on a gentler tone, the Sokovian dripping from his tongue like honey as he said, "My apologies, darling. You are just so magnificent that I want you all to myself; the thought of you with another man is enviable."

"Don’t apologize. Just end it."

He nodded, and before either of you could say anything else, that asshole John Walker showed up, along with his partner. They demanded that Sam and Bucky no longer keep them in the dark, but ultimately, Walker conceded to follow Zemo, and allow Sam the opportunity to talk to Karli alone. As Sam walked off, Walker grabbed Zemo forcefully and handcuffed him to some kind of metal contraption on the wall.

"Aggressive. But I get it," Zemo quipped. He turned to you, and in Sokovian, said, "Once I get out of these, perhaps we could use them to our advantage later this evening."

"Zip it, Zemo."

Unsurprisingly, Walker betrayed his agreement with Sam, barging in on the memorial before Sam's allotted time was up.

"Uh-uh. No, no, no, no. This is a bad idea."

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight," Bucky responded calmly.

"Don’t do that. Don't patronize me."

"Then do not behave so childishly," you retorted, and Bucky elbowed you while Walker shot you an icy glare. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky cut him off, aiming to divert the subject before Walker pushed you any further.

"He knows what he's doing."

Walker was silent for a moment more, before he grabbed the shield – which shouldn't be in his possession in the first place – and marched toward the door. "I'm goin' in."

Bucky stopped him, but after Walker guilt-tripped him, Bucky stepped to the side to allow him to pass. You groaned in exasperation the second Walker walked off.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"It was either that, or you and me fight Walker and Battlescar – or whatever his stupid code name is. I'm already on probation, and I helped the guy that split up the Avengers break out of prison. I really don't need ‘beat the shit out of the new Cap’ added to my list of wrongdoings," Bucky said, running a hand through his hair before clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go find Sam."

As Bucky jogged off in the direction Walker had gone, you followed while grumbling, "My preference would have been the latter, but no, why would anyone ask for my opinion? I'm just the pet mind reader."

When the two of you caught up to Walker and Hoskins, the former was thrown into a table by Karli, and she ran off. Bucky chased after her, and you took another route to try to intercept her, to no avail. You caught up with Sam and Bucky a few minutes later, out of breath as Sam commented that the building was like a maze, and you wholeheartedly agreed. By the time the three of you found the others, Karli was gone, Walker was just standing there, and Zemo was out cold on the floor.

Walker and Hoskins stated that they were going to search for Karli, and ran off. Bucky threw Zemo over his shoulder like a damn ragdoll, and the three of you trudged back to Zemo’s flat, a little worn out and a little defeated. Once there, Bucky threw him down on the couch, and Zemo bounced limply atop the cushions, still unconscious. Sam began working on his laptop, and Bucky went on yet another walk, while you searched for the first aid kit.

Zemo looked surprisingly peaceful and non-threatening as he laid there, appearing to be asleep. You kneeled beside his head and lightly applied some antiseptic on the cut left by Cap's shield, right at the top of his hairline, and you found yourself admiring him. He had soft features for a man so dark inside; soft chestnut brown hair, adorable nose, slight bit of stubble across his gentle jawline and neck. You began dabbing the antiseptic again, still lost in your own thoughts when he awoke very suddenly, grabbing your wrist in a fierce grip out of reflex. Zemo's eyes were wide when he first opened them, but upon seeing you, he visibly relaxed and released his grip on you.

"Apologies," he whispered, then groaned softly when he felt the pain in his head. You stood silently and retrieved a rag from the drawer beside the sink, wetting it with cold water, then filled a glass with some ice and brandy and returned, handing both items to Zemo. He thanked you very sincerely, then laid the rag over his forehead and eyes, and held the glass atop his chest.

You were grateful that Sam hadn't noticed you doting on him, too focused on his laptop, because he'd have definitely asked you about it, and you didn't even have an answer for yourself. It wasn't like there was any need or obligation for you to tend to him like that, and yet you did without even thinking. As you took a seat opposite Zemo on the couch, you told yourself that it was merely payback for how he assisted you with your own injury the day before, and left it at that.

It wasn't long before Walker and his partner showed up again, demanding to place Zemo under arrest. You, Sam, and Zemo all stood when he burst through the doors, all silently conglomerating to one side of the room. Walker had the gall to threaten Sam, and it had your fingers twitching on the gun in your thigh holster in rage. Before anything could come of that, the Wakandans Bucky had mentioned showed up, and when Walker tried talking down to them before placing a hand on one's shoulder, melee ensued.

You leaned on the bar with one arm, watching in amusement as Walker got his ass handed to him. Zemo seemed to be in the same boat, observing without expression as he passed you his drink, and you took a couple of sips before returning it.

"We should do something," Sam said to you and Bucky.

"Looking strong, John!"

"Yes, excellent form! Top notch," you added. "Really showing them the prowess of the new Captain America!"

"Bucky…" Sam chided, prompting Bucky to finally intervene. Sam looked to you, and you held your hands up in defense.

"I am not fighting the goddamn Dora Milaje. I don't feel like dying today – especially not for the sake of helping John Walker."

Sam sighed before joining the fight himself, and that was when Zemo’s hand enveloped yours, silently tugging you towards the bathroom. You opened your mouth to say "Is this really the time for a quickie?" but he held a finger to his lips, effectively silencing you. Once he had successfully guided you into the bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him, and shoved the tub to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

"Come with me," Zemo said simply, and you scoffed.

"I'm not abandoning Sam and Bucky. My place is here."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, your assignment is to keep an eye on me. Although I'd rather not have to, I will overpower you if I must, because I will be leaving now. So, it is technically your job to follow me, and it would behoove you to simply follow your comrades’ orders without an unnecessary scuffle."

The man really didn't miss a beat, did he? Sam and Bucky had, in fact, assigned you to watch Zemo. Although it was implied that that was everyone's task, they had specifically delegated the role to you. So, it was a matter of whether or not you could take Zemo in a fight, and although you secretly hoped he'd go easy on you, you knew that his own self-preservation was his chief concern.

"Fine," you grumbled, not missing the smile on his face as you shoved past him and jumped down into the tunnel.

Your joints ached in protest of your actions, but you ignored it. He was right behind you, not even bothering to cover the passageway back up before taking off in one of the three directions that the tunnel led to. You were right behind him, and it wasn't long before the sounds of the scuffle faded away. Roughly five minutes later, you reached the end, and he pushed aside the manhole above you and climbed out. Zemo took your hands and helped you out as well, before replacing the manhole while you surveyed the area. It was a city street, but they all looked the same in Riga, so you had no idea where you were.

"Come on," Zemo said, lacing his fingers with yours as you ran down the street. He took a few turns and ended up in the town square, where he led you into a hotel. As you entered the lobby, he explained, "We'll stay here for a few hours, essentially hiding in plain sight, to allow the Dora Milaje and Walker time to leave and search for me elsewhere."

You nodded, and as you approached the front desk, Zemo wrapped his arm snugly around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Do you have any availability for the night?" Zemo inquired, then smiled lovingly at you. "It is our wedding day, and my beautiful bride simply cannot wait until we reach our honeymoon destination to get her hands on me."

You sent Zemo a quick glare, but the man at the desk didn't notice. He chuckled and nodded, saying something about "What a happy couple" as he booked the room for you. Zemo ignored your pointed look and kissed your temple, thanking the man and paying for the room before leading you in the direction of the room. As soon as you were out of earshot of the desk clerk, you glowered at Zemo once again, although his arm remained around your waist until you reached the room. Not that you minded, really.

"'Beautiful bride'? 'Honeymoon'? Really?"

"Yes," Zemo replied calmly, unlocking the door and opening it for you. As you walked past him, he elaborated, "If Walker comes looking for me, he'll be asking for a former SHIELD agent and a criminal. If the gentleman at the desk is convinced we're a happy newlywed couple, he won't even think to mention us to Walker."

It didn't take more than half a second to find his genuine answer in his mind. "How smoothly and effortlessly you lie, Zemo. You simply wanted to touch me again, so you came up with a convenient excuse."

Zemo licked his lips subtly, before shrugging with a small smile, wordlessly saying 'you got me there.'

"We need to get back to Sam and Bucky once Walker and the Dora Milaje are gone, but there's no foolproof way to go about it," you began pacing the room, as Zemo remained fixed beside the wall. "If I text Sam or Bucky, Walker will know they got a message, and they're both the worst liars I've ever met. God knows we don't need the Dora having any idea about where you are, you wouldn't last a full minute before they drove a spear through your chest. We also can't wait around too long, because then Sam and Bucky might leave Riga, and —"

You were still pacing and mid-sentence when Zemo suddenly grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. His other hand rested on the curve of your waist, pulling you against his chest. The surprise of the act and subsequent warm feeling in your stomach absolutely obliterated all other thoughts from your mind, and all you could focus on was him.

At some point, you regained your senses, albeit still in a haze. You pressed your palms to his shoulders and shoved him a few inches back, and he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes and lust-blown pupils.

“We – we need to focus on Sam and Bucky,” you managed to stammer out, but Zemo simply cupped your cheek and stroked the side of your face with his thumb.

“Is that truly what you want to be focusing on, Schatz?” Zemo inquired, his voice low, taking on even more of a gravely tone than usual. It flooded your veins with heat and desire, and you found your eyes fluttering closed as he bent down to pepper your neck with kisses. “Or would you rather simply wait out Walker and the Dora Milaje here, with me? Allowing me to touch you, taste you, in all the ways I know you crave?”

The final shred of your sanity left the building when he gently bit down on your neck, at the point where it met your shoulder, and you found yourself releasing a breathy moan and melting into his touch. Zemo wasted no time in kissing you once again, lips fast and insistent on yours, one hand on the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other on the nape of your neck once again. His body leaned into yours as he kissed you with fervor, and your hands longingly grasped the front of his sweater. Eventually, Zemo abruptly spun you around to press your back against the wall that had previously been behind him, and he hiked one of your legs up onto his hip, gripping it under your thigh. His other hand slowly moved from the back of your neck to the front, fingers curling deliciously around your throat as he applied a little pressure, earning another airy moan from you.

As if on reflex, his hips bucked up into you, and the friction left you mewling. Just like last time, it seemed to be your noises that set Zemo off, as he released a low growl from the back of his throat and dropped your leg to tear your shirt off while you took the hint and kicked off your shoes. He undid the fasten on your jeans with lightning speed, and yanked them – along with your panties – down past your hips so you could kick them both off. Next went your bra, which was flung god knows where in the room, and Zemo took a small step back to admire you.

It only lasted for a split second, because you then grabbed the straps he wore around his shoulders and used them to pull him in and kiss him again. Zemo’s hands glided slowly, sensually down your shoulders, your back, then came to rest upon your ass, grabbing it fiercely with both hands. His hands trailed further down, to the undersides of your thighs, before he lifted you with surprising ease and carried you over to the bed at the center of the room. Zemo threw you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, gaze locked on your chest as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, but you were quick to sit upright and pull him back in by the shoulder straps. You removed them then, as well as his turtleneck and belt buckle, and he was cooperative in removing his own boots and slacks, leaving him in his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric there.

When you reached out to remove his briefs, Zemo pushed you to lay down by your shoulder, and knelt down at the edge of the bed, opening your legs at the knee with a harsh grip. You didn’t even have time to blink before he dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit before moving to your clit as your head fell back onto the mattress and your eyes fluttered closed. He focused primarily on your clit, occasionally lapping at your folds, but always returning his attention to that bundle of nerves. Gasps and moans were already falling for your lips, but when his middle finger and ring finger entered the fray, you found yourself crying out his name and tangling your fingers in his hair.

That delectable little growl of his escaped him once more, and you felt the vibrations of it against you, which warranted another moan, and Zemo’s fingers began delving in and out of your core at a steadfast pace. When he began curling them upwards, rubbing them against that sweet spot deep inside you, you were a goner. He wanted more of your beautiful sounds of pleasure, wanted to see you become more and more undone for him. You only lasted a couple minutes longer, growing progressively louder and more unhinged with each passing second. You were then launched over the edge, one hand tugging on his chestnut tresses and the other gripping the comforter of the bed, crying out his name amongst various explicatives.

When your eyes opened again, Zemo was standing, kicking off his boxers as he made eye contact with you while he sucked his fingers clean of you. He had set his wallet on the bedside table in the midst of your pacing, so he retrieved it and pulled a condom from one of the compartments. You sat up and snatched it from him, quickly tearing it open and rolling it down over his length. The sensation caused a sigh to leave his lips, before murmuring, "Eager, are we, Kätzchen?"

Electing to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed with you, wordlessly instructing him to lay down by pressing your hands on his chest. Zemo got the message with ease, happily complying as you straddled him. The sight of you sinking down on his clock, your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself, caused him to groan in pleasure. Far too eager to spend an abundant amount of time adjusting to him, you began moving, rocking your hips back and forth at a resolute pace, savoring the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Zemo's hands rested on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin as he helped you keep your rhythm, while he gazed up at you as if you were a goddess in the flesh, his jaw hanging open slightly and hair disheveled.

By the time you were approaching your second orgasm, Zemo could tell, from the faltering of your hips as they strove to increase their speed, and from the way your nails raked down his chest each time you used his length inside you to hit that special spot there. He began thrusting up into you, eager to feel you come on his cock. You unintentionally caught a passing glance at his thoughts, and learned that it seemed that he always wanted more of you, needed more of you, to the point that he questioned if you had toyed with his mind somehow. You were about to inform him that no, you had not done anything to his mind, when he trusted particularly hard and deep up into you and his fingertips dug deliciously hard into your hips at the same time, and all sensual thoughts left your mind as you met your release a second time.

Still shaking slightly and moaning breathlessly, Zemo flipped you over onto your back, lifted your calf up onto his hip and held it there, and began pistoning in and out of you at a desperate, unforgiving pace. When your eyes fluttered open, you found that he was practically snarling above you, teeth bared in concentration and an intense fire in his eyes. It reminded you that his softness toward you did not change the fact that he was a criminal mastermind and former kill squad leader, who had done a great many terrible things. Yet the thought only made you want him even more, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a heated, haphazard kiss.

Zemo thrust in and out of you like a man on a mission, the sound of his pelvis colliding with yours filling the room, before he pulled out of you long enough to flip you onto your chest, face in the pillows and ass in the air, then resumed his pace. The new angle felt incredible, and it didn't take long before you were moaning into the pillows, fists clenched around the duvet. In the blink of an eye, Zemo grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you upright, your back flush against his chest.

"Do not hide your beautiful noises from me, Liebling. I want to hear you," Zemo commanded, and you moaned in response, both as a confirmation of his words and as a natural reaction to the low, gravely tone his voice took on. His hand moved to encase your neck, tilting your head back even further so he could trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, before biting down on your shoulder, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "Now tell me, Kätzchen: who makes you feel this good?"

"You," you choked out, groaning in pleasure when his fingers tightened their grip on your throat.

"Me, what?"

"You, Baron," you corrected, and Zemo hummed in approval, kissing you quickly in praise. He gave your neck another squeeze before throwing you back down onto the mattress, his hands on your hips as he returned his focus to fucking the very soul out of you.

As his hips began to stutter into yours and soft moans began falling from his lips, signaling he was approaching his end, Zemo reached around your body to begin expertly rubbing your clit, desperate for you to finish in unison. The way your walls fluttered around him let him know that he was on the right track, so he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit, careful to maintain the angle he was thrusting at. As you fell apart beneath him a third and final time, your scream of "Baron!" and your core clenching around him like the most luxurious vice, Zemo found himself crying out your name in accompaniment with a low, guttural moan, spilling himself into the condom.

Zemo didn't move for a moment, hands still clutching your hips, albeit with a looser grip now, as he fought to catch his breath. Still panting, he slowly removed himself from you, falling into a sweaty heap beside you. Breathing heavily yourself, you leaned over to kiss him ��� far slower this time, both of you reveling in post-coitus bliss. He affectionately brushed your hair away from your face, as it had been stuck to your forehead from perspiration, before stroking your cheek with his thumb.

A brief eternity later, Zemo stood and headed to the restroom, no doubt disposing of the condom, before returning in one of the hotel’s white bathrobes and holding a cold rag. He flopped down onto the mattress, placing the towel over his forehead and eyes as he had earlier in his flat.

“Apologies, Schatz. As enjoyable as that was, it certainly did not help my migraine,” Zemo explained, blindly reaching out to grab your hand and bring it to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You murmured a dismissive ‘you’re fine’ before heading to the washroom yourself, hopping into the shower and allowing the burning temperature of the water to ease the ache in practically all your muscles – some of it from fighting, some of it from fucking – although you suspected that the ache in your thighs, from being so tense throughout the multiple orgasms, wasn’t going away anytime soon. Thankfully, Zemo truly had done a marvelous job on your stitches, and the wound was already healing up nicely. By the time you finished your shower, the steam had clouded the room and coated the mirrors with condensation, but you felt more relaxed than you had in days. Donning a bathrobe yourself, you exited the bathroom, and situated yourself in the chair beside the floor-to-ceiling window on the wall of the room. Zemo was snoring softly, and the quiet tranquility of the room and the comfort of your seat sent you into a cat nap of your own, your head falling back against the chair as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were entirely unsure how long you had slept, but when you awoke, Zemo was sitting with his back resting against the headboard, reading a random book he’d found in the room’s nightstand. He looked up at you long enough to flash you a small smile, before returning to the book. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, then sat up straighter in the chair and gazed out the window beside you. You hadn’t noticed, but the room had a lovely view of the town square.

A few minutes after you began observing the city below, your eyebrows practically shot up into your hairline as you saw none other than the bastard himself, John Walker, chasing one of the Flag Smashers before hitting him with the shield, sending the man flying into the statue at the center of the square. Each member of the bustling crowd stopped dead in their tracks, watching the scene unfold before them, as this new Captain America placed his foot on the man’s chest, pinning him against the stairs of the statue, as the man screamed, “It wasn’t me!”

The chair you were sitting in clattered to the floor as you stood bolt upright, a shuddering gasp escaping you and your hand flying to your mouth as you watched Walker raise the shield high above his head, a completely unhinged look upon his face. Zemo was at your side in an instant, his hands on your upper arms as he stood behind you, a worried expression on his face, wondering what could have caused you such distress. Before he had the chance to ask, Zemo’s eye caught the scene below, and you both watched in shock and horror as John Walker drove the shield into the Flag Smasher’s chest, again and again and again, until the man just laid there – bloodied, bludgeoned, and unmoving. Dead, at the hands of the new Captain America.

—————

@henrysmorgan​ @clints-lucky-arrow​ @therenlover

[angryschnauzer]

Distraction

Summary: As a junior CIA agent you are added to a mission to help with scientific analysis, but when half the team are hospitalised you have to suddenly become a hands on field agent, alongside August Walker and Will Shaw. When the final part of the mission at a tropical plant glass house has an unexpected side affect, you have to work as a team to survive the night.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader x Will Shaw Fandoms: Mission Impossible: Fallout (Movie), The Cold Light of Day (Movie), Henry Cavill - Actor.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Sex Pollen, Threesome, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Blowjob, Cum Play, Double Penetration, Anal Sex.

A/N: This is my first time writing the Sex Pollen trope, so i hope you like it. Fic is unbeta’d; only the finest free range organic typos for me. I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you will then get an alert when i post something new.

Back catalogue can be found on AO3 Link Here, or you can follow my facebook page HERE.

 Distraction

 If there had been someone narrating a movie of this mission, the first line would have been ‘it was a simple mission’. However, they would have been lying. The mission was far from simple, it was convoluted, complicated, and the team fucking hated each other.

 The team were scheduled to arrive via two flights, from opposite directions of the globe as not to arouse suspicions that a large team would do if anyone was picked up on facial recognition. You had been brought on board because of your scientific and tech background, and as the team were tasked with retrieving the formula for the most dangerous biological weapon in the world, you were the one that would check they had the right thumb drive before the mission was able to be called a success. There would be multiple extraction points, numerous undercover assignments that would all lead to the final extraction at the gala dinner.

 That was the plan. What actually happened was the half of the team coming in from Dallas ended up with severe food poisoning and were currently being hospitalised in a local treatment facility. That left just your half of the team, and the senior agent now in charge was none too happy about it;

 “I’ve got a fucking chemistry nerd and a number cruncher for a hands on mission that requires multiple scenes where infiltration and distraction are needed, and neither of you have any fucking field work!”

 August Walker hated everyone and made sure he did everything he could so that everyone hated him in return. The other member of the team quietly ground his teeth, Walker never once let him forget that he came into this agency completely by accident following a rogue faction and a situation that started with the death of his CIA Agent father, and resulted in smashing up half of Madrid’s traffic in a 24 hour long series of car chases;

 “I was a stockbroker, and i didn’t hear anyone complaining when i discovered the currency discrepancies that found us the targets insider trading”

 Will Shaw was so similar yet so different to Walker it was startling, you even thought they looked similar enough to be long lost brothers, but never dared to mention it.

 The hotel suite had all the facilities you needed to set up a small command post, with enough counter space to set up the laptops and work-stations, whilst not getting under each other's feet. However it was still small enough for the two men to continually bicker and make snide remarks at each other, and you had to push the earpiece of your surveillance equipment closer to your ear to hear, finally you heard what you needed to, holding your hand up and clicking your fingers at the two men who immediately silenced and crossed the room;

 “They’re going to be at the MMA Gym in thirty minutes”

 “Okay” Walker huffed; “We need to extract the codes from his device that will give us access for the holding location. You and Shaw take the gym and cause the distraction, i’ll get the codes”

 Will shook his head;

 “Not gonna work”

 “It's not?” you were surprised

 “The gym is men only, the only women are administration and janitorial”

 “That’s fucking antiquated” August spat out in disgust.

 You had to hide the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth, that August Walker of all people would be an advocate for equal rights, but nonetheless started to prepare for the first distraction.

 -

 Walker and Shaw had entered the building separately but within 5 minutes of each other, signing in under false names and keeping it simple and silent as they started training on the weights and cardio machines in the gym. You had already entered through the basement deliveries door which you’d been able to pick the lock of, finding a staff uniform t-shirt in the storeroom and pulling it on over your top. You could hear both men through their hidden comms, and within a couple of minutes pretending to sort out a cleaning kart that you knew the morning crew had finished with, you heard the code word that the target had entered the weights room.

 Seconds later you were tentatively pushing the door to the locker room open, calling out;

 “Housekeeping!”

 You had no idea if they called themselves housekeeping or janitorial staff or whatever, but when you didn’t get a reply you quickly entered the room and did what needed to be done. 

 Through your ear piece you could hear the first stage of the distraction starting, with your two fellow agents starting to challenge the other to out lift each other, and from the muffled background noise you could tell that they were drawing a crowd of onlookers.

 Tapping your comms you alerted Walker and Shaw that you’d been successful, and that it was time for them to leave. But as you got no response you quickly made your way out of the locker room through the other exit, only to find yourself in a glass walled corridor, the gym on the other side of the glass. What surprised you however was that there was now a huge crowd of spectators as they watched your two agents try to pull out more reps on the bicep curl machine. Scowling you grabbed a cloth and bottle of spray cleaner and squirted the glass, glaring at the two of them before they finally saw you;

 “Its time to go, dumbasses. Finish the contest. I’ll be in the car in the street behind the building”

 -

 Pushing through the door of the hotel suite you scrunched your nose as Will pushed past you, August not far behind;

 “You two need a shower… did you really need to get that sweaty?”

 “Well… you wanted the distraction to look convincing, didn’t you?” Will shot back, stripping his t-shirt off, already halfway to the bathroom.

 A quiet cough behind you drew your attention away from Will’s sculpted back muscles;

 “When you’re done staring at Shaw…”

 “I...I wasn’t stare…”

 “Whatever sweetheart, either way; you two need to change”

 Looking down at your outfit you pulled at the gym t-shirt;

 “Yeah, i can just find a utility shirt or something…”

 “No, you’re front of house with me. Will’s taking the extraction of the thumb drive”

 “But...I didn’t bring an outfit…”

 August nodded to a pile of bags in the corner of the room from the agents that hadn’t made it to the mission but their luggage had;

 “So check Marianne’s, she is about the same size as you. Either way its you and me sweetheart, now get dolled up, you can’t go to a gala looking like that”

 -

 Twenty minutes later you took a deep breath; you’d found Marianne’s bag and had found that although she was a similar size to you, it was one size smaller. She also had a completely different taste and style to makeup and you were now way out of your comfort zone. The red lipstick however seemed to work, a touch of gold bronzing powder across your shoulders and chest made the red silk dress really work for you. Adjusting the straps so they sat over the top of your bra, the pretty floral pattern hopefully not too noticeably jarring against the sultry silk. Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the small dressing room and came face to face with Will;

 “Oh hey” he looked you up and down before clearing his throat; “Looks good”

 “Yeah?” you smoothed the dress down over your stomach

 “I mean… the bra kinda takes away from the look… but yeah, it looks really good”

 “I...I didn’t have anything suitable for a gala, this is Marianne’s… from her bag…”

 Will stood in front of you, reaching his hand around your back and with a quick snap of his fingers he’d unfastened your bra;

 “It really will look better without the bra… trust me…”

 Without another word he turned and crossed the room, pulling his tie from his bag, fastening it as August emerged from the other room;

 “Agent. Bra off, now”

 Shimmying the offending garment down your arms you pulled it out of your dress as he crossed the room;

 “I don’t see why…”

 “Because the people at this gala have got so much money they flaunt what they’ve got. You’ve got to fit in” He held his finger out and you hooked it over the protruding digit.

 “We’d better get going… the gala is about to start”

 With a nod August grabbed the keys to the BMW you’d been assigned and tossed them to Will; he was taking on the role of Driver and Bodyguard to your’s and August’s ‘couple’, the three of you filed out of the room and into the elevator.

 The ride down the highrise hotel was slow, and you could feel both men’s eyes on you as they stood behind you, before the doors finally opened to the basement parking. You struggled to keep up with them as they strode out with their long legs, the heels of your stiletto sandals clicking on the cement. Finally as you reached the car you were surprised as August opened the door for you, not uttering a word as he watched you climb in before he rounded the car and slid into the back seat beside you.

 You’d barely had time to fasten your seatbelt before Will was peeling out of the hotel parking with a squeal of tyres and you were heading to your destination.

 “Panties, off” August’s words surprised you

 “W-WHAT?!”

 “Panties. Take them off”

 “Agent Walker…”

 “They dig into the meat of your hips and take the attention away from the sexiness of the dress. You need to fit in tonight”

 “B-b-but…” you attempted to stall, but without another word August pulled your knees towards him and slid his hands beneath your dress. He grasped the thin elastic straps that ran over your hips and pulled hard, snapping the fragile pieces of fabric and pulling the now ruined undergarments. Glancing at Will he had a brief smirk on his face but quickly looked away, concentrating on the road ahead. 

 -

 The gala was amazing, and it was hard not to get absorbed into the evening as if you were a real guest. You could hear everything through the hidden comms units in your ears, and apart from the occasional grunt as Will silently passed the guards as he made his way further into the underground chambers that ran below the massive glasshouse the gala was in, it seemed to all be going exactly to plan. The host had announced for everyone to celebrate, and you had found yourselves being swept onto the dancefloor, and suddenly you were in August’s arms as he held you close, the music thankfully loud enough to drown out your conversation from the ears of others;

 “Do you think he’s getting on ok?”

 “He’d say if he wasn’t” August assured you as he moved in time to the music, his hand on your lower back pulling you closer to his body. At that very moment you both heard a guttural cry through the comms, your eyes wide in panic as he grabbed your hand and you quickly made your way through the crowd;

 “Shaw, come in… are you ok?”

 You heard gurgling on the comms and watched as August pulled out his phone and activated the trackers that you all wore, the two of you coming up together on screen, but the third - Will’s - showing as on the level below and not moving.

 -

 The stairs had been hell in your heels, eventually you’d kicked them off and had run barefoot behind August, chasing him around corners and along corridors, before he’d finally come to a halt in front of a sealed door, his phone showing that Will was in the room behind it.

 “Stand back”

 You took a couple of steps back and watched as August kicked the door, the deafening bang as it broke from its hinges and splintered in was immediately forgotten as a sudden rush of air came out of the room, covering him in a dusting of strange grey-pinkish powder. He fell to the floor coughing and you rushed to his side;

 “Check on Shaw! I’m fine!”

 Quickly entering the room you looked around, finally seeing Will laying on the floor, he too was covered in the powder. Kneeling at his side you checked his pulse, relieved to find one as he opened his eyes and groaned.

 “What happened? Are you ok?”

 “Stop fussing, i’m fine… we gotta get out of here. Security will be on their way…”

 At that moment August appeared at your side;

 “Did you get it?”

 “Yeah, i got it”

 Will held out the thumb drive and pushed it into your hand as August pulled him to his feet, and they attempted to dust themselves off as the three of you staggered down the hallway and out of the fire exit.

 -

 Pushing into the hotel room, both Will and August had already shed the majority of their clothing, now dressed in just their smart dress pants and under shirts, still coughing from the dust cloud that lingered in their airways. You’d run the briefest of tests with the tiny blood monitor that you’d kept in the car to ensure it wasn’t a known nerve agent or poison before you’d even left the extraction point, thankfully the results being negative, but both men needed to wash off whatever it was as soon as possible. But first, you needed a proper sample;

 “Agent Shaw, i need to take some blood, hair and saliva, run it through the test software, to see if whatever it was has synthesised into your bloodstream” you nodded to the small scientific station you’d set up at the end of the table, the case having contained tiny gadgets that amounted to a microscope, a mass spectrometer, and other testing equipment… the whole point of why you in particular had been placed on this mission.

 A minute later you’d collected the samples, trying hard not to get flustered as Will had stood in front of you bare chested and in just his underwear, heat radiating from his body;

 “So what do you think it is?”

 “I have no idea”

 “Well i’m burning up, i need to take a shower”

 Quickly loading the samples into the rapid mass spectrometer you turned to Agent Walker to check his vitals and let out a tiny squeak of surprise when you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed in just his underwear. His chest was flushed and he had a sheen of sweat over his entire body;

 “I guess i’m next?”

 Pressing your hand to his forehead you could feel he was burning up;

 “I’m going to check your temperature first”

 Quickly using the thermal reader you could see that his core temp was heading towards fever;

 “I’m going to take the samples then as soon as Will is out of the shower you need to get in there”

 “Yes Ma’am” he chuckled, closing his eyes as you pushed your fingers through his hair to pluck a sample strand. The powder had caught in the strands and it was only as you combed your fingers through the dark locks did you realise he had soft curls. As you tried to separate them he let out a groan as you stroked his scalp. He swayed a little even though he was sitting down, and before you could do anything his hands were on your hips to steady himself, the heat almost searing through the silk of your dress. 

 Finally having got all the samples you needed you reluctantly pulled away, not saying a word as he simply flopped back onto the bed with a smirk on his face. You busied yourself preparing the test samples from Agent Walker, the machine finishing with Shaw’s. You were vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and the men moving around the room, before the shower was on again and you presumed it was August in there.

 Peering at the saliva samples through the microscope you frowned, the particles present completely organic and very familiar.

 “So what is the diagnosis Doc?”

 Will’s voice surprised you, and as you jumped and turned your eyes went wide when you saw he was in just a towel, tied low on his waist as he drank from a bottle of water.

 “Y-You don’t want to put some clothes on?”

 He looked down at himself, almost surprised to find he was only wearing a towel and shrugged;

 “No point, the way i’m burning up i’ll be naked soon” he nodded to the screen; “So?”

 Turning your attention back to the screen you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry;

 “Well… it seems organic, spores of some kind. Its hard to tell what they are from, but their chemical make-up is unique. The only time i’ve seen anything similar is in isolated microclimates that are cut off from the rest of nature… there was this one… in a volcano… a pollen from a plant that grew in tropical climates…” you trailed off as you sensed another presence now flanking your other side, glancing away from the microscope, taking in the sight of August in an identical outfit to Will, his broad expanse of chest at eye level as he bent down to look into the microscope.

 “Hmmn… so, how’s it gonna affect us? The gala was in a fucking giant greenhouse; you saw the plants they were growing there, some of them were 20ft tall and looked like they’d come from another planet. Do we need to pop an antihistamine or something, what’s it gonna do?”

 Standing you quickly slid out from between the two barely dressed men, checking the mass spectrometer and frowning;

 “It seems to be elevating your testosterone levels…” you peered at the saliva results; “...and pheromones… your bodies are heating up where your body is fighting against the pollen, its affecting all your hormones...”

 “Pheromones…” Will mused; “... that’s the sex hormones, right?”

 “Urrr…” you faltered, looking up at the two men who were now looking at you like hungry wolves.

 August stepped closer;

 “Sweetheart, i think you’d better get yourself tested too…” he paused, his finger hooking beneath the thin strap of your dress, making you acutely aware you were completely naked beneath it; “... cos’ i could smell you from across the room… and you smell so sweet right now…”

 You went to take a step back, only to bump into the hard expanse of Will’s naked chest, his hand curling around your arm;

 “C’mon, lets get you tested…”

 You were suddenly putty in their hands, your head swimming and it was only then that you realised you were burning up. It felt like you had a core of lava within you, and the only thing you could liken it to was a hot flash, your body flushed with heat. You recalled the time you’d overheard a much older agent talking to her friends, unaware you had been in the room and she’d spilled the beans on how she would recover from an episode and calm her hormones down... with the help of her husband.

 As your head had been swirling, Will had taken your blood sample and had loaded it into the mass spectrometer, having watched as you’d shown him before the mission. But you could barely concentrate;

 “I...I know how to counteract the affects of the pollen…” you panted out, unsteady on your feet as you swayed and August caught you in his arms

 “Oh yes?”

 “En… Endorphins… they counteract… they burn off the pheromones…”

 You felt hot breath on the back of your neck as Will pressed against you;

 “I’m not a scientist, but i know how to create endorphins…” 

 His lips made contact with your neck and you turned to jelly, your head resting against his shoulder and your eyelids drooping, barely open, yet you had enough of your senses to be aware of August in front of you, pulling the straps of your dress down your arms, you pliable in his hands as he stripped you of your only remaining garment, pressing his lips to your over heated skin as went as the silk pooled at your feet;

 “So beautiful…”

 “Absolutely” Will agreed from behind, his lips grazing over your jawline as his arms reached around you and cupped your tender breasts; “We need to work as a team to get through this… what are the hazards of hot flashes then Doc?”

 “Y-Y-You can over heat your brain… your heart could give out…”

 “Uh-huh… and endorphins will help stop this?” August enquired, his breath hot on your naked chest

 “Y-yeah…”

 That was the last word spoken for a very long time. From that point on the only sounds in the room were hums of pleasure combined with the carnal soundtrack of three bodies moving towards the inevitable. By the time you got to the bed both men had lost their towels, hard naked bodies pressed against your soft curves, sculpted hard muscle available everywhere you touched, and oh did you touch… and caress and stroke, the second you’d reciprocated their affections they had softened to your touch, sighs of pleasure as your fingertips gave them just the slightest relief.

 You found yourself sandwiched between the two men on the soft covers of the king-size bed, each taking turns to capture your lips for searing kisses, each having their own unique talent and style with their tongues. When you were deep in August’s embrace you felt Will move down the bed, his hands pulling your legs apart before he pressed kisses up your inner thighs and his mouth made contact with your soaked folds. The cry of pleasure that erupted from your mouth broke the kiss, yet August didn’t seem to mind as your hand had found its way to being wrapped around his weeping shaft, tugging him sloppily as you struggled to concentrate;

 “That’s it Sweetheart, you don’t need to be gentle… i like it rough…”

 You tried to answer, but Will’s tongue had found your soaked entrance as his hand curled around your thigh and sought out your clit, the pleasure he was giving you was too intense to allow you to form coherent words. August claimed your lips again for another searing kiss, humming his appreciation as you worked your hand over his heated flesh.

 Before you knew it you were coming hard, your orgasm tearing through your body as you ground your core against Will’s face, his eyes sparkling from between your thighs, and as you were floating on the high of the afterglow you could feel the two men moving you, adjusting you to suit their needs.

 On all fours on the bed you were faced with August’s dick, opening your mouth instinctively to take him deep, the heavy weight on your tongue a welcome feeling. Saliva spilled from the corners of your mouth as you struggled to stretch around his girth. At the same time you felt Will’s powerful thighs pressing against the back of your own, the velvet touch of his bulbous crown pressing to your still trembling hole before with a grunt he thrust into your soft body.

 There were only grunts and gasps of pleasure, the two men rocking your body between them as they defiled you in the basest of ways, but that you were eager to participate in, the mixing of pheromones in the room removing your inhibitions, knowing that it was an act of survival. You could feel your body climbing again, your orgasm imminent. You felt the first salty tang of August’s seed on your tongue, the tensing of his muscles as his body prepared to release into the welcome warmth of your mouth. His massive hand cupped your chin and pulled your head up to look him in the eye as he finally reached his peak, grunting curses as he pumped thick ropes over your tongue, raining praise upon you as you swallowed everything he gave you. 

 August fell back onto the pillows, but before you could let gravity take hold of you too Will wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you upright until you were pressed against his chest, his hips thrusting as he filled you so deliciously from behind. Through lust soaked gaze you watched August watching the pair of you as you fucked in front of him, his eyes travelling down your heated body until he was watching where your bodies were joined, how Will’s thick cock stretched you out so well.

 “Get your finger on her clit Shaw, i wanna watch you make her come undone”

 Doing as the senior agent instructed, Will snaked a hand down your stomach, rubbing tight firm circles against your sensitive bud as he continued to fill you, until you were shaking, hanging onto the precipice of pleasure and that final flick of his finger was enough to set off another orgasm. 

 The vice-like grip of your velvet walls was the final trigger for Will, and with a sin filled groan he pushed in one last time and you could feel him spilling deep inside you.

 Finally he pulled out, carefully setting you down onto the soft bedcovers. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the burning deep in your body seemed to be sated. You felt the men moving around the bed, a large hand cupping the back of your neck before lifting you from the bed a little;

 “Drink…”

 Opening your eyes, you watched as August lifted a water bottle to your lips, making sure you gulped down the chilled water before pulling away;

 “How… how are you guys feeling?”

 He turned and sat on the bed beside you, his finger trailing down your neck and between your breasts, and only then could you see the sheen as his skin glistened with sweat, a droplet running down his abdomen to where his cock stood hard and proud from a thatch of dark curls;

 “Not… not quite done yet…”

 Gently pushing you back down onto the bed he tossed the empty bottle aside before crawling atop of you, capturing your mouth with his as you felt the nudge of his hardened dick breach your body, his wide expanse of chest pressing you to the bed. He didn’t start out gentle and it only got rougher, ploughing into your body as he sought to relieve the effects of the pollen coursing through his veins like fire, burning within him until all that was left was red hot embers of passion. Your body writhed beneath him, begging for more, eagerly taking whatever he could give.

 He hit spots you didn’t know existed, your back arching with pleasure as he filled you, your hardened nipples almost too sensitive from his chest hair roughly rubbing against them, the stimulation almost too much until the levy broke and you came hard, your fingers digging into his back to leave dark welts, the pain his trigger for the final thrust as he pumped you full of his seed. 

 Finally he rolled off you, laying at your side as your chests heaved, struggling to catch your breath when you felt another hand grasp at your wrist;

 “Babe… please… i need you…”

 Looking to Will you saw a pained look on his face as he sat partially propped up against the pillows, his chest soaked and his dick standing hard and proud;

 “Please…” he begged.

 Somehow you found the energy to move, your body still shaking but yet you straddled his lap, pushing his sweat soaked curls from his face;

 “It’s going to be ok Will, i’ll take care of you… its ok…”

 You sank down onto his waiting body, taking him where August had been only a minute before, the comingled seed lubricating you as this new angle found yet more pleasure points that had remained undiscovered until then. Wills hands moved to your hips, his grip tight as he gritted his teeth and moved you on his lap, rocking you to ride him like a rodeo stallion. Sweat dripped down your body, rivulets running between your breasts as you threw your head back and basked in the flood of pleasure chemicals soaking your brain. The haze of lust clouding time and space as you came to another orgasm, Will filling you with another load of his thick cum, your cries of pleasure finally ebbing away as you collapsed on his heaving chest, his hands stroking your back whilst your bodies stayed joined.

 A pair of strong arms lifted you off of Will and set you down on the mattress, August’s dark smile haunting over you as he parted your legs and kissed down your thigh, before with a smirk he bit the soft flesh. It wasn’t enough to break the skin but the pleasure pain receptors in your mind were immediately set off again, and you knew that even if you couldn’t see the mark you’d feel it for days to come. He lifted your legs and parted them, his face at your centre, yet where his tongue ended up you let out a squeak of surprise as he circled your back entrance. 

 “Oh, OH… August…”

 “Mmmnnfff” was all that could be heard as he pushed his tongue at your asshole, his thumb pressing against your clit as he worked you open, your body deceiving you as a fierce orgasm washed over you almost immediately. When he pulled away he had a smug look on his face;

 “Thought as much… hold tight…”

 He quickly disappeared to the bathroom, before returning with a small bottle in his hand. Pouring some of the liquid contained within on his fingers, he worked the oil over your skin before pushing his thick finger into your ass, eagerly praising you as he worked your body until you were ready.

 “Walker… hurry up and fuck her… i’m burning up here, i need another round…” Will gasped out as August moved you.

 “C’mere then Shaw, we’re never gonna get this out of our systems if we have to wait to take turns…”

 Even through the haze of the pollen Will immediately got what August was saying, the pair of them pulling you from the bed before Will took you into his arms;

 “Jump…”

 With a surprising amount of strength Will pulled you up, your legs hooked over his forearms as he angled his hips to push his dick back into your cum soaked cunt, letting gravity help as he sank deep. Just as you thought you were about to overbalance a hard chest pressed against your back, August stooping behind you as he took his iron hard dick in hand and sought out purchase on your ass;

 “Gonna take this as slow as i can Sweetheart…”

 Slow didn’t seem slow enough, and you cursed Newton and the laws of physics as the same forces that had pulled you down onto Will did the same with August, leaving you gasping for air as you were filled in both holes. The boys held you up, in place and still whilst they resisted ravaging your body, fighting against the pollen until they could no longer hold back and they unleashed their raw power upon your body. Fucking you in tandem with the thinnest of walls separating themselves inside you, they defiled your body as you begged for more; harder, deeper, faster. It was never enough.

 -

 The night ebbed away into the mists of time, each sex act more depraved than the last, the three of you driving the deadly force of the pollen from your bodies in an endless battle of lust.

The last thing you recalled was the sun rising as the two men stood before your kneeling body, spraying your face and breasts with a final load before sleep finally claimed your sated body.

 -

 Bright light streamed in the window and you winced as your head pounded. A deep voice could be heard but you weren’t listening. A warm body beside you shifted and a large warm hand pressed to your aching abdomen, soothing the overworked muscles. A soft pair of lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and the lack of moustache told you it was Will that was spooning you.

 “C’mon Agents, rise and shine” August barked from the bathroom doorway, packing his things; “Got a flight to catch in two hours, debriefing in twelve”

 -

 Closing the file you nodded at your superiors, their approval of a good job done ringing praises in your ears as the debriefing ended, people pushing their chairs out and making small talk as they were dismissed for the weekend and a well deserved rest.

 Walking to the elevator you didn’t make eye contact, trying hard not to wince as your thighs rubbed together and you felt the bite that August had given you, wanting to avoid any probing questions. You’d skimmed over a lot in your report, mainly the sex-pollen induced orgy that had taken place, but as the thumb drive with the vital data on had been recovered no-one was concentrating on the part between the retrieval and the debriefing.

 The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and absentmindedly you stepped in, looking out of the glass windows as you were only partially aware of just a few other passengers. It was only when you realised you were flanked on both sides did you look up and see that August and Will were either side of you. 

 With a smirk August handed you a file;

 “This wasn’t needed for the debriefing”

 You flicked it open and saw that it was the mobile test data from the hotel room;

 “Yes, probably for the best” you agreed, your throat dry.

 As you held the pages Will pointed to a trio of lines towards the bottom. For a moment you stared at the numbers before you recognised what they meant;

 “That’s our results…”

 You felt August’s breath hot on your ear as he whispered;

 “Look at yours…”

 You saw the readings of Will and August’s blood count, of the pheromone saturation… then you saw yours;

 “But… but that can’t be right…”

 “You know that equipment better than anyone else… when has it ever been wrong?”

 The elevator reached the Lobby and everyone filed out, August and Will stopping and nodding to the bar across the street;

 “We’ll be catching a drink or two… you’re welcome to join us once you’ve taken in the test data…”

 You nodded, speechless, staring at the data in black and white. It couldn’t be wrong; it was never wrong. It was clear as day.

 You hadn’t been infected by the pollen.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hey Quil!

There's literally so much to say here my dude. Like-I just physically cannot put into words as to how much I love what you do for this fandom.

I have never in my life, met such an incredibly talented creator like you. /gen

The way that you can put words down on a page is so elegant, it's a talent that is just simply unfathomable to me. You just kind of suck me in with your writing--I have to clear a time to read the next chapter of the wings au because of how deeply you're able to weave your words to pull me into the narrative.

The world that you've built in your head, and the ideas that you churn out onto the page are so very incredible. And that's not just about writing either.

Seriously!! When I found out you could draw my reaction was pretty much. Well I guess it's over now, Quil's over here, hoarding all of the talent and stylistic choices of writing and art. /lh

I remember vividly when I first saw the wings AU. I was actually on my phone, at school, in the hallway (no shame apparently) and I saw Shattered Upside Down on the list of things. And I read the description and I sat there for a minute and I went.

Huh. That seems kind of weird. And I clicked off of it.

Can I just say!!! How funny that is!! Like I think I've been this invested in two fics ever, and my first reaction to seeing this was "eh I'll pass" ?!?!?!

Past Tobi this is literally right up your ally. It is dystopianizing + dragonifying your kotlc. Why the fuck would you want to pass on it????

Anyway, it was only three days later that I came around and gave it a shot (after seeing the one chapter and the word count.) And let me tell you. I knew I was hooked.

I knew it.

I remember so well sitting in the dark, on vacation, excitedly stimming on my bed after the fourth chapter came out. I had the Wiggles from a story!!! This had never happened before. I'd gotten squirmy yes, but I had to stand up!!! Because whew this story was really fucking good!!!!!

And Quil. Quil I cannot tell you how much the wings AU means to me. Like as a story but as an idea as a whole. And ik we're getting to the ah ha moment, and I know this means that it's ending, and while I'm so sad to see it go I'm also really excited to see how you write a conclusion to this.

Anyway if you want to see my shitty doodles of the wings AU from like...omg over a year now. (Quil it's been over a year since I drew those) just let me know.

Anyway, enough talking about my lord and savior (Shattered Upside Down) /hj

Thank you so very much for inspiring and writing every day. You're honestly such a cool human being, and it's been so fun getting to see you create on here <33

Oh my gosh this is so incredibly kind of you I'm at a loss of where to start to try and articulate back how much this means to me and how much I appreciate it.

Hearing that my words just kinda suck you in because of how I weave my stories makes me laugh a little because it feels wildly out of proportion with my writing approach. I think I've said this before, but I basically don't edit like at all. Everything you read is what I first wrote; it is the first draft. So you saying is both greatly appreciated and also amusing because I'm just winging it

And thank you for the compliments on my drawing, as well! You're not the first person to say that (discovering I could draw later on), which is wild because there was a time in the fandom where I was foremost considered a fanartist compared to...whatever I am now.

I love that you clicked off the wings au because if I am being 100% honest...I probably would do the exact same thing. I think if I saw the wings au out in the wild, I wouldn't read it. I'd go "huh, I don't really like aus, and this is too long" and just move on. Because it's true! I don't really like aus (they're great! just not for me most of the time) or long fics, so if it wasn't my story I'd absolutely skip right past it without a second thought.

I'm incredibly flattered to hear you were hooked, like that is such an amazing thing to hear as a writer than someone is that invested in your story--and giving you the wiggles!! You are giving me the wiggles right now as I'm reading through this just in awe. I'm thrilled you think the story is good because it's truly expanded beyond what I ever thought it would be, which is terrifying, but also so excited to watch (I say as if I'm not writing it). And I can't believe you were reading it on vacation like please enjoy your vacation the wings au can wait

Tobi. I cannot explain to you how much it means to me that the wings au means something to you. I started this story purely self-indulgently after I started mindlessly associating characters with wings, making the joke "well no fandom is complete without a wings au" to cover up how invested I was getting in such a "silly" concept. Like really? A wings au? Could it get any more basic?

And while the story is starting to come to a close (there's a lot left to write but like timeline wise...we're getting there), I really hope that I can live up to the rest of the au and the expectations. I've known what I wanted the final message, the final hurrah to be since I started; it's all been working towards that, but I don't know exactly how we'll get there or what shape it will take.

I'm both terrified and ecstatic to see what the wings au will become and I just hope I can do it justice.

Also I would absolutely love to see any doodles you're comfortable sharing. Seeing art of the wings au always makes my day and I'm incredibly honored that my story inspired you to create something.

Thank you so much for everything you've said, I don't know how to explain my appreciation for this. I hope to continue creating things and sharing them and having fun with everyone here for as long as possible, so thank you for being so receptive and encouraging about it all, this seriously made my day <33

[maryellencarter]

Memed from @thisbluespirit : "Share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media, in no particular order, then tag ten people."

Do I even have ten blorbos? Surely I must. I don't have handy gifs of most of them, I don't think. How far back in my fannish history am I going to wind up going here?

1: Jigen Daisuke, from Lupin III. I've told this story in a few different places, but about six or seven years ago -- I think it must have been 2015 because some of the promotional material from Part 4 looks awfully familiar -- VirusQ was reblogging an assortment of Lupin stuff. Now, VQ and I have *extremely* similar taste in sharpshooters. I saw about a five-second clip from Jigen's Gravestone, the bit where Jigen is explaining to Lupin why he lost the first quick-draw duel in that movie (I'm pretty sure it was the Japanese subbed version but it could have been English with dubtitles, I know the audio was written down because like fuck would I have remembered Jigen's name six years later if it wasn't), and I said to myself, "If I see *any* more of this man I am going to have a new hyperfixation, and I do not have the spoons for that right now," and I blocked the Lupin III tag on Tumblr for the next six years.

Then, late last year, Leia asked me "hey would you buy me an action figure for Christmas if I asked", and she linked me a figure of one Goemon Ishikawa XIII, whom I had never heard of in my life. But I clicked through to the Amazon listing, and you know how those have the long stringy search-engine titles, so it was something like "Banpresto Goemon Ishikawa XIII Lupin III", and I was like "I know that name, Lupin III" and I had a feeling as of impending fate. (Not to be melodramatic, but I really did. I have a habit of putting off many visual medias until the stars align, and sometimes they actually do align and it's a very particular feeling.) And then I scrolled down to "other people also bought" and went I KNOW THAT SKRUNKLY ASS MOTHERFUCKER ^_^ and then I very cautiously made noises (not to get Leia's hopes up too far) indicating that I would be amenable to being shown the thing, and then she did, and now I've seen 95% of it and we're in the middle of publishing a 50k novel about it :D

(Also I've dragged at least two other people into it after me. The First is one *hell* of a gateway drug. XD)

2: Wes Janson, from about ten seconds of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, and also four tie-in novels by Aaron Allston from the '90s. If you've seen ESB, you presumably remember the scene on Hoth where they use the snowspeeder tow cables to wrap around the AT-AT's legs and knock it down. Wes is the gunner who actually makes the shot that anchors the tow cable to the AT-AT's foot. This is his entire existence on film. However, because Star Wars, his personality and backstory was greatly expanded in the tie-in novels (and some comics which I read much later and so only regard when they happen to add important details like the existence of socks in the GFFA). He became Rogue Squadron's class clown with some underlying survivor's guilt and PTSD that presents *really* similarly to mine, plus the ability as a trainer to turn a ragtag band of misfit pilots into a found family -- an ability which his friend and boss Wedge Antilles weaponizes as the premise of the Wraith Squadron trilogy, because Wedge never saw a character trait he didn't think tactically about.

I first read the tie-in novels in 2007 or thereabouts, while being extremely isolated and struggling with undiagnosed PTSD, ongoing emotional abuse, and an assortment of other mental health bullshit, and latched onto Wes *hard*. I've wandered in and out of the fandom several times over the years; I originally wanted to grow up to be Wes but didn't think that was possible. When it occurs to me to think about it, I'm still quite thoroughly confused that I've not only grown up to be him but have also managed to acquire my very own Hobbie Klivian. (That's the guy in the background of Princess Leia's briefing scene on Hoth who says "Two fighters against a Star Destroyer?" In the comics and at least one of the novels, he's Wes's BFF, wingmate, and partner in crime. He's laconic, sarcastic, pessimistic, and has up to three prosthetic limbs and possibly a prosthetic dick, depending on which parts of canon you accept and which ones you think are an editing error, a stupid throwaway line, etc. Star Wars! *jazz hands* Hobbie is a massive troll, but quiet enough that people usually notice the much more flamboyant Wes first.)

Did I mention Wes is also a sharpshooter? For some reason, I have a *type*, and very little about it is physical appearance -- I think "sharpshooter with a soft spot for people who need help, probably has PTSD, also a knack for unexpectedly wise insights possibly delivered in a rusty baritone" is probably gonna be at least half the guys on this list.

3: Zaeed Massani. Case in point. Zaeed is a DLC character from Mass Effect 2, voiced by the late and greatly lamented Robin Sachs, who was an absolutely amazing voice actor (possibly better known as the recurring chaos sorcerer Ethan Rayne in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the main villain whose name is escaping me in GalaxyQuest, although there's something wrong with the mike setup or the ADR in GalaxyQuest so you don't really get the full effect of his amazing vocal range). Uh. Where was I? Right. Zaeed is yet another sharpshooter, a merc in his forties or fifties -- Mass Effect continuity being what it is, he has at least two wildly contradictory backstory timelines. Point is, twenty-odd years ago as of ME2, he founded a mercenary group which became very large and successful, and his co-founder double-crossed him and shot him in the face at point-blank range. Being made primarily of steel wool and hatred, Zaeed survived this with only the loss of an eye, which you'd think would be a problem for a sharpshooter, but nope, he's still one of the best there is at what he does.

As of ME2, Zaeed has been trying for twenty years to find and get revenge on the man who double-crossed him. Being a DLC character, he has a nice compact little story where you can either help him get his revenge -- having to let a factory's worth of trapped workers burn to death in order to do so, because video games -- or save the trapped workers but let the enemy get away. When I first played ME2 on a severely underclocked computer, I had planned to take the "Paragon" route where you save the workers (me being me, I had read a walkthrough of the mission beforehand), but there's a puzzle minigame you have to solve to open the door to that route, and my computer lagged too much to get through the minigame, so I had to take the "Renegade" route where you take a quicker path through the burning factory, help Zaeed get his revenge, but have to listen to the distant screams of the dying factory workers the whole time.

I've since played both routes, but Robin Sachs absolutely *nailed* the voice acting, the script was fantastic as well ("Don't you call that a goddamn grudge!" hits me really hard for personal reasons), and I always wind up going Renegade because... well. Depictions of PTSD mostly have a tendency to trigger my own PTSD (it's complicated), but some of them land just right. Plus, listening to him tell the story about Jessie, his first gun that ge finally had to retire a couple of years before ME2... god, he absolutely breaks my damn heart every time.

Actually, I should probably tell the story about Jessie, too. It's this weird recursive piece of causality. So, okay, when I was very first getting into Mass Effect 3 multiplayer, this would have been in early 2013. There used to be these weekend challenges where you competed to get a certain number of points with certain weapons, or killing certain enemies, or whatever. I hadn't played any of the singleplayer games yet, didn't know any of the characters, I was just messing around in what is still objectively the best co-op shooter multiplayer ever created. Early March 2013, it was announced that one of the voice actors had just died and there was going to be a memorial weekend challenge, so many kill points with this specific gun and so many with this specific power. Well, I didn't have any kit with the required power (it took me literally another year to finally unlock one), but I had the gun because it's one of the five starter guns you unlock on your first multiplayer login. So I'm always down for a memorial event like that, so I did what I could. Didn't get very far that weekend, but I did find that I liked the gun -- a basic shooter game assault rifle, very "spray and pray" style (which was about all I could do on this extremely laggy underpowered computer), kind of a peashooter as far as damage per bullet but with a really big clip and easy to aim.

So then I carried this gun as my default for quite a long time, and of course anytime people were talking about their favorite guns in the game they just had nothing good to say about it (because, gamers being gamers, there are like two or three guns that are really best suited to the highest difficulty level, and this gun really is only suited to the lowest difficulty but that's what I played). So then when I finally got around to playing singleplayer, and I got to Mass Effect 2... even before you do Zaeed's DLC mission, as soon as you recruit him, you can go and talk to him about various items scattered around his room, get some war stories and characterization out of him. And one of those items was his first gun, which he named Jessie, which was this same model of starter assault rifle. He spoke so fondly about it that a big part of why I initially latched onto him is that I'd finally found someone else (even though a fictional character) who appreciated this gun. Which, of course, I only appreciated so much because of the memorial weekend challenge for Robin Sachs, where we had to use Zaeed's gun.

Damn, now I want to play Mass Effect again. I take Zaeed everywhere in ME2, every mission that you get to choose a squadmate on (there are some where you can only take required squadmates). Because squadmates don't have bullet/power travel time but the player character does, and because my computer was so laggy, telling Zaeed to shoot a particular enemy off me was often the only way I stayed alive.

Am I gonna be able to fit ten blorbos in a single tumblr post at this rate? Fuck if I know.

4: Wolverine / Logan, from the X-Men (comics and various assorted animated shows, I've never gotten into the live action X-Men stuff). Not a sharpshooter, for once. ^_^ So back in 2004, Spider-Man 2 (the Tobey Maguire one with Alfred Molina as Doc Ock) came out, and somebody recommended it to my mother, who became absolutely obsessed with all things Spidey. So a friend of hers was taping the '90s Spider-Man animated TV show off cable at the time, and I wound up getting assigned the rather drudging work of cutting the commercials out of said show using some video editing software we had for reasons, so we could burn it to DVD-R without having to sit through a bunch of ads. I still owned that set of homemade DVDs until I lost all my most treasured stuff a few years back, actually, but it's on Disney+ now, so there's that.

Point is, the '90s Spider-Man cartoon did a crossover two-parter with the '90s X-Men cartoon, and I *really* have a thing for those growly baritones, okay? So I wound up finding the bulk black-and-white "Essential X-Men" reprints of Chris Claremont's run at the library -- they had volumes two and three, which turned out to be the perfect introduction for me, covering most of John Byrne's run as artist (including the classic Dark Phoenix Saga, which literally every X-Men adaptation apparently has to cover at some point) and all of Dave Cockrum's second run, and more to the point, covering the most pivotal part of Wolverine's character development from a feral hypothetically-teenage asshole with no known name to something pretty much approximating his "standard" characterization in the years since. As an autistic tortellini dealing with constant forced overstimulation and unpredictable meltdowns, I really latched onto the portrayal of Logan's struggle to control his "berserker rage" meltdowns caused by his enhanced senses.

Of course, Herself was always terrified of anything that she feared might get me in touch with my violent side, and for good damn reason -- both my parents strongly deserved to have me snap and kill them, and I'm convinced that she at least knew it. (I have not, for the record, killed anyone irl. Yet. You never know.) She forbade me to read X-Men comics, I attempted to set An Boundary on my eighteenth birthday by telling her I would respect her rules and not bring them into her house but I was an adult who needed to make my own moral decisions and I would continue to read them at the library, and she very conveniently started the Remodel of Doom a few months later which kept me 100% isolated and under her control for the next five years as well as permanently ruining my health... but also forced me to spend most of my waking hours at the library because the house where I was living didn't have running water or, uh, installed toilets for a lot of that timeframe, which meant I found a compilation of "40 Years of X-Men" on CD-ROM at the library and read *the entire fucking thing*.

With that kind of isolation and that kind of input, I wound up developing a headmate version of Logan, who helped me massively with surviving and getting out of that whole situation. He very, very rarely shows up anymore, which is a really good sign, because it means I haven't been in that kind of a survival situation in... several years at least. I still think of him as my big brother, though (which is from a whole other situation I may have mentioned where my sisters and I had this incredibly complicated multi-crossover found family storyline going on... it says a lot about our general situation that the one who insisted no abuse was happening and I couldn't even use the term "a bad situation" about my experiences, was also the most heavily involved in creating a world where none of us had any interaction with our RL bio-parents.)

(My name in that storyline was Estel, which is Sindarin for "hope". On the nose much? ^_^ Logan still calls me Essie, which nobody else who's still in my life does. I've tried on a royal fuckton of names over the years. If I was going to change my legal name again, I'd probably take the last name Logan. Unless I made it my middle name and chose something that's not a first name for my last name -- my current legal name consists of three names that can all be first names, and the confusion it causes at doctor's offices is a pain in the ass.)

... that's only four blorbos, but I am out of spoons. I'm pretty sure the other six would fit the pattern as well. Let's see if I can at least make the rest of the list, if not say anything about them.

5: Adam Cartwright, from Bonanza. The original reason I wanted a hat, before Logan even entered the scene. Another sharpshooter, soft-spoken, mechanically minded (I have been known to say that my type is guys you'd want around to help you rebuild after an apocalypse, specifically a lot of them have engineering and/or childcare skills), and -- man, I don't know if it holds up, I don't even know where the hell I'd watch it since my VHS tapes are long gone, but I loved the hell out of early Bonanza back in the day. It hit the same kind of "eye-opening social justice for an extraordinarily sheltered tortellini" buttons as Howard Pease's 1930s YA mystery novels. The very first episode I ever saw was about the ways USian society treats felons after their jail sentences are up -- I can still hear the guest star saying bitterly, "They say you do your time and you pay your price, but don't you believe it!"

6: Richard Dean Anderson as MacGyver and Jack O'Neill, which are two very different characters but I'll put that down as a twofer.

7: Gandalf, because he is a delightful bitchy-ass troll. We read The Hobbit and LOTR out loud as a family when I was ten, which was possibly the best thing that ever happened to me as a kid, and I was hooked right from "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I like it or not, or that you feel good this morning, or that it is a morning to be good on?" (I am still *insanely* proud that, with no other spoilers than the fact that the blurb for ROTK in the back of The Hobbit mentioned Gandalf, I recognized him on his return as Gandalf the White at the same moment Aragorn does and for the same reason -- his "laughing long and softly" there is distinctive, he does it in that first conversation with Bilbo in The Hobbit as well (at least I think it's the first conversation, I have my one-volume of LOTR but I don't own The Hobbit currently).

8: Does Marvel count as one fandom? Seems like it's supposed to, these days, but I'm gonna put down Venom as well. I named my hat after him. Well, *I* didn't, exactly -- my sister had a brown cowboy hat of which the brand name was Eddy, so when I got my black cowboy hat, he was promptly named Venom. I didn't mind, because in the '90s Spider-Man cartoon, Venom is voiced by Hank Azaria nomming on all the available scenery and then some, and I do love me some good scenery-chewing. Also Eddie Brock is just kind of a dork in any incarnation, and depending on your version and timeframe, he's also very much the Catholic guilt superhero, which you can see why that grabbed me.

Anyway, then Herself decided my hat was in fact a symbiote and wouldn't sit next to him in church (another reason I wanted a hat was for taking it off in church purposes, because when that's about the only way you can express masculinity as a very suppressed trans tortoise, you do what you can). Well, she always said she didn't actually believe he was a symbiote, but in a defensive sort of way, and she really wouldn't sit next to him. So that's why my hat has pronouns. That and the fact that he was basically my only remotely physical companion during the Remodel of Doom. Have you ever had to figure out the logistics of crying on a hat's shoulder? I have. Much of my hat-wearing experience lends itself well to writing Jigen, but I'm not so sure about that bit.

(Technically I retired Venom-the-hat earlier this year, he has a spot on the closet shelf now, but the new hat seems to be inheriting the pronouns. Nearly twenty years of habit doesn't go away easy. The new one doesn't seem to have a name for now, presumably because I have other friends.)

9: Merryweather from Sleeping Beauty? Man, I am either running out of blorbos or not thinking of some. Merryweather was partly a color coding thing -- my birth name was a variant of Mary and my next sister's was a variant of Rose, so whenever there were things like toothbrushes to divvy up, I got the blue one and she got the red or pink one. Suited me just fine, not being the pink-coded one after she came along. Anyway, so in Sleeping Beauty, obviously Flora was "her" fairy and Merryweather was mine, but Merryweather is also very relatable -- the most aggressive of the three fairies, the one who it's implied does all the chores for the sixteen years Aurora is growing up, and also she's just a little cutie.

10: Dr McCoy, from Star Trek: The Original Series. My space doctor. *The* space doctor by whom all others are measured. I could do a whole essay if I wasn't so tired. Best space doctor.

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[otonymous]

Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard).  Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes:  My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom!  I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it.  This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea.  That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

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“Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard!  Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog.  And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh.  There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?!  WHAT THE HELL?!”  

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize.  And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep.  And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate.  The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!”  You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade.  “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it.  You were sleepwalking.  You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to.  My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL!  Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay?  We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye.  So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods.  But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon.  He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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

The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions.  And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.  

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.  

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course.  That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual?  Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG!  You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight!  It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol.  Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon:  Hey!  He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate!  Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon.  Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.  

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place?  Was there something wrong with his room?  I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her.  I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏  She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair.  Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.  

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer.  The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with.  And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.  

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop.  Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared.  Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre.  But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave.  Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel?  I just want to help—”  You reach for his arm.  He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE!  I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me.  This has never happened before.  I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been.  I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough.  The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission.  Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?!  I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t.  I don’t mind, Beel.  I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide.  And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive.  I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back.  I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh.  You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam.  And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage.  The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious.  All the time.  And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses.  I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”  

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form.  But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.  

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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Cheddar.  Pickles.  Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want.  I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well.  Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog.  Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel.  Better than fine, actually.  I feel fantastic!”  You smile, moving to sit up in bed.  The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features.  “I’m glad.  I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back.  You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”  

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites.  “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too.  Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself.  “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

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Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[tarlos-spain]

Flufftober Day 4

Prompt: Supporting silly hobbies

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/ TK Strand

Summary: "Since when do you go to the gym yourself? But I've never gotten you to go running with me in the mornings."

Carlos had spent a whole week working, had barely had time to spend at home and had almost feared that his children had become teenagers without realizing it. TK had taken a few days off to be with the kids so they wouldn't miss their parents (so much).

He would arrive at night, the kids would sleep and he would leave early the next day because the police all over the city was on alert for a group of criminals on the run. When he was finally able to spend a whole day at home, instead of taking the opportunity to do nothing and lie on the couch, he set about doing the laundry that TK hadn't done.

TK hated laundry.

There was everything, children's uniforms with unknown stains, a couple of TK's uniforms, and then all sorts of different clothes.

He also found one of his husband's uniforms that he had never seen before. White and it was the large version of the one Gwyn had for the gym he was going to for mixed martial arts.

The original invitation had been from the Vega twins who had invited her to the Strand-Reyes twins. Gabriela had been unimpressed by the punching bags, the punching on the pads, and the kicking and weapons exercises. Gwyn on the other hand had spent the rest of the day talking about them.

A day later he was already on the tatami, with his new uniform and his first belt.

Finding himself in his adult uniform, Carlos was surprised.

He put it in the washing machine, cleaned the kitchen, prepared a special dinner for the whole family and finally sat quietly on the couch waiting for TK to arrive from work, Gwen from the gym and Gabriela from her drawing class. The former was arriving with Owen and the latter with her grandmother.

TK was the first to arrive, Carlos jumped over the back of the couch, hugged him tightly and planted a kiss on his lips that took his breath away.

"Hey, we're going to have to spend more time apart..." TK said and wrapped his arms around Carlos' waist.

"Don't even think about taking a longer shift than usual, I need you always close tiger."

"Like how close?" TK kissed him again.

"A lot and changing the subject. can you tell me what that martial arts uniform I saw in the laundry basket?"

TK blushed. "Ah, yes, hadn't I told you?"

"Tell me what?" Carlos tugged him over and led him to the couch, sat on the backrest and rested his finger on his husband's chest. "Is this some kind of surprise for the bedroom, because the truth is I have other fantasies, do I have to tell you about them?"

TK burst out laughing.

"Let's see, if you want me to wear it to bed tonight, I have no problem, but I know you like me better in a paramedic uniform. Besides this uniform is my new uniform for the gym."

"Since when do you go to the gym yourself? But I've never gotten you to go running with me in the mornings."

TK shrugged.

"Well, Saturday I was with Gwyn at the gym, it was father-son day and well, I guess I was just curious."

Carlos opened those wide, bit his lip and stared at him expecting him to burst out laughing, but TK was looking at him seriously. "Are you serious, do you now go to your daughter's gym where people spend the day beating each other up to get and try to give some?"

"You say that like you don't trust me."

Again Carlos bit his lip, put a finger on his cheek, moved his face from side to side looking for a bruise or two and feared he hadn't noticed he had a black eye. But apparently there was nothing unusual.

"After all the times you've finished the hospital, after being shot, kidnapped and after the hypothermia, I assure you I'm afraid of what might happen if you get kicked too hard... no, I'd rather not think about it."

TK rested his head on his husband's chest and heard him laugh. Carlos kissed his forehead. "I want to do it for Gwyn. You should have seen her little face when I put her uniform on in front of her for the first time."

"Promise me you'll be careful, I don't want the hospital to call because they've... no better not think about it, just avoid waking up in the ER but have fun."

The door of the house opened, and the two twins were arriving at the same time with their grandparents, Tomi came out of his room where he was studying and hugged them. Carlos rested his head on TK's shoulder and the paramedic wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Does that mean I have to go to drawing class with Gabi now?" Carlos said quietly to his husband.

"Have you learned to draw?"

"No."

"Then don't worry and I promise not to end up with a new concussion."

"Hmmm, TK, one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack."

[x-childish-x]

Hi- may I ask for a Bucky x girlfriend reader. He has been away on mission for a long time, so when James finally reunites with his lover - things gets heated and rough rather quickly! But he can help himself getting a guilt-trip afterwards in the shower, seeing all the marks and bruises he has caused and branded her body with...

Guilty Pleasure

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: SMUT!, NSFW, slight pain kink, some manhandling, explicit unprotected sex, sad/guilty Bucky

Word Count: 1,556

A/N: Hello! First, thank you for this request! I'm sorry it's quite long, but I feel like it's definitely worth it!! I really hope you enjoy this and that it's what you wanted. Feedback is always appreciated!

Summary: Things quickly get steamy when Bucky returns from a long mission, but he's later ridden with guilt from the results of your pleasure. 

(gif not mine!)

You were the only thing on Bucky's mind. He didn't care about anything but getting back to you. Steve was flying the Quinjet home, and Bucky was truly beginning to get annoyed at his best friend for not flying faster, even though Steve was going full speed. Steve barely had time to lower the back before Bucky was out of the plane and quickly walking to your room.

He ignored Tony telling him he needed to do a debriefing before going to you. Steve smiled, telling Tony to leave him be. After all, Steve and he had been on that damn mission for just over three weeks. And now, as Bucky bound down the hall towards your shared room, he found himself considering the idea of never going on another mission.

Your face lit up the moment the door to your room opened, and without a second thought, you flew off your bed and slammed into Bucky's chest, "Bucky!"

Bucky smiled, squeezing you tightly, "Hey doll!"

You pulled back, crashing your lips onto Bucky's as he lifted you off the ground, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He smiled into the kiss, deepening it as he stepped further into the room, locking the door behind him. You pulled back, slightly out of breath, and connected your foreheads.

"Someone's eager," Bucky teased, walking towards your bed.

You frowned playfully, "Don't tease me. I've missed you."

"Don't worry, doll," Bucky smirked, laying you down, "There won't be much teasing at all. I've missed you far too much to spend time teasing you."

It didn't take long for Bucky to strip you both of your clothes. His kisses were almost as hot and needy as his touch. Sloppy kisses and bites being placed all over your neck and chest. Bucky kept to his promise. He had missed you far too much to consider teasing you much at all, and he'd missed you far too much to even consider how rough he was being. 

You didn't mind though. Bucky was manhandling you just enough that it wasn't unbearable, and the idea of him being this desperate and needy for you turned you on like you couldn't imagine. He slammed into you quite quickly, hardly giving you time to adjust to his massive size before he began to thrust into you. Your moans filled the entire room as he set his pace, his hands gripping your waist incredibly tight, the slight pain only adding to your pleasure.

Bucky's grunts and groans combine with your moans as his thrusts become animalistic. At this point, your sure that everyone knows exactly what you two are doing, especially with the headboard slamming into the wall the way it is. Bucky's grip on your hips tightens, and you whimper in pleasure at the feeling of Bucky fucking you into your bed. 

The super-soldier's head drops to your shoulder as he nips at it, his grunts getting louder as you cry, "Feels s'good Buck!"

He groans at your words, his metal arm coming to grip your throat lightly, his flesh hand shifting to grab your left leg and hoist it up over his shoulder. The new angle elicits a string of curse words from your mouth as Bucky's pace somehow quickens, his flesh hand returning to grip your hip. 

"Fuck, you're taking my cock so well, doll," Bucky groans, nipping your collarbone, "S'well. Missed you too much... way too much."

Your whines go a higher pitch as you grip Bucky's shoulders tightly, "'M gonna cum."

Bucky nods. He knows already. He can feel you clenching around him, and before he can even tell you to cum, your clenching even tighter around his cock. Your orgasm slams into you, your legs shaking slightly as Bucky fucks you through your high. Despite his efforts, it'd been three weeks, and your clenching is too much as Bucky shoots his load into you, his metal hand leaving your throat and reaching to squeeze your thigh that's still rest on his shoulder.

"Fuck," Bucky curses, his head shifting from the right side of your chest to the left side, nipping that side of your collarbone. He laughs softly as he lets down your leg, his metal arm releasing your throat, "We should probably shower now."

A giggle escaped your lips as you nodded, Bucky kissing his way from your collarbone up to your lips. You smiled as he pulled out, suppressing a soft groan as he did so. You allowed Bucky to help you up and usher you towards your bathroom. He started the shower, getting the water warm before you two slipped in. 

You hummed contently at the warm feeling, knowing that no words needed to be said as Bucky grabbed the soap. Showers together were routine for you two, so you stood patiently as Bucky washed your back before gently turning you by your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let Bucky's hands glide over your body, lathering you in soap. Bucky smile at your reaction, finally taking his eyes off your face to admire your body. Or should he say, what was left of it? 

Bucky looked over your body, his eyes immediately noticing the spots on your waist and hips where bruises were quickly forming, bruises in the shapes of his hands. He noticed a similar bruise forming on the thigh he'd hoisted over his shoulder, and even various spots along your chest and collarbones had bruises forming from him biting too hard. However, what broke Bucky was the faint bruises forming around your neck. He stumbled in the shower, soap dropping from his hands as he stumbled out, desperate to give you distance from him.

Your eyes flew open at the sudden commotion, just barely seeing Bucky fleeing the bathroom with a towel around his waist. You called for him repeatedly, but he ignored you, trying to dry himself as fast as possible. You were quick to rinse and get out, wrapping a towel around your body.

When you entered your bedroom, you saw Bucky yanking on a shirt and heading towards the door, making fear spike in your chest, "James Buchanan Barnes, you will not leave me alone in this damn room again," Bucky froze at the crack in your voice. He knew if he turned around, he'd see you on the verge of tears, "I don't know what I did wrong but don't leave me alone again."

"What you did wrong!?" Bucky snapped, spinning around, "This isn't what you did. It's what I did! Look at yourself! Have you even looked in the mirror? Seen the way I... the way I scarred you, hurt you."

Bucky watched intently as your eyebrows scrunched, and you slowly turned towards the mirror in your room, opening the towel to examine your body. He waited for your face to contort into disgust, for you to turn around and scream at him to leave, but it never came. You simply examined your body before wrapping your towel back around you and turning to Bucky.

"Buck... baby, they're just bruises," You spoke softly, walking towards him.

Fear spiked within Bucky, and he quickly stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet slightly as he slammed into your door. He shook his head rapidly, making you freeze as tears rose within his eyes. The room fell silent as Bucky's chest heaved with each breath he took, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

"I hurt you," Bucky croaked out, "I scarred you with... with those marks, those bruises that you should never have."

"Buck," You whispered, "You didn't hurt me. It felt good. We were just caught up in the moment."

"No, no, no," Bucky cried softly, his head dropping to the floor, "Don't try to justify this, don't try to make this okay."

"You didn't mean it!" You huffed, closing the distance between you and Bucky, "You didn't mean it, Buck. I'm not mad at you. I'm not even the slightest bit upset. In fact, I'm kind of happy. I can't wait to make Sam and Steve uncomfortable with all these hickies."

A giggle left your lips, and Bucky had to fight off a smile at his favorite sound. Slowly, you cupped his cheek, drawing his gaze to you. You gently wiped away the tears, leaning up to kiss Bucky's nose with a smile.

"I love you so much, Bucky. Please don't feel guilty over something so small."

"What if I do it again?" Bucky whimpered, his cerulean orbs locking on yours, "What if I really hurt you one time?"

"Buck... baby... you won't hurt me. I trust you more than anyone, and if you went too far, I would tell you. Besides that, though, you would know if you were going too far, and I trust that you would stop."

A small smile came to Bucky's lips as he took in the fact that you were still soaking wet, wrapped in only your towel with a slight shiver, "How'd I get so lucky?"

"How did I get so lucky?" You countered, "I love you so much, Bucky."

"I love you more, doll," Bucky kissed your forehead before a smirk came over his face, "You really think we can make Steve and Sam uncomfortable with those hickies?"

"Oh definitely, Steve will wish they never found him in the ice."

[aotimagines]

Hey! I love everything you guys write. I’ve been following since like 2016? 2017? Lol, and I never get sick of it. Your character writing is just so on-point! :) I wanted to ask for headcannons or a scenario (whichever you feel more inspired to write!) for Eren and his s/o. What would their relationship look like transitioning from the early Survey Corp years to now? It also breaks my heart seeing how he’s changed, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on this and how it’d play out :,)

Wow, anon! I’m speechless, tbh. Mod Spookzz and I created this blog back in 2016. It was a time when a lot of snk blogs weren’t active with the exception of two or three. To know that you’ve stuck with us for this long really means a lot. Thank-you so much! I’ve...thought about this, a lot. Like, a lot. There may be some projecting in here based on my own OC, but this is genuinely what I think would happen. I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day, btw! My gift to everyone is...angst. Again. I’m sorry, lmao. MANGA SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. Also, fun fact, but this post is our 666th post, lmao.

CANON RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS: 

✩ I know the recent fandom interpretation of Eren is that he’s some charming, charismatic fuckboi, but that is...not him. At all. Not that there’s anything wrong with fanon interpretation, ofc, but Eren is...lmao.

☾ Eren doesn’t know anything about romance, period. He canonically ignores Reiner, Jean, and Armin when they are praising girls and shows zero romantic interest in just about everyone. 

✩ He’s preoccupied with other things, you know? His mind doesn’t really wander to romance often, so his s/o probably started out as his friend. 

☾ Like, it’s hard not to fall for Eren’s idealism. He’s a super passionate speaker and has some really inspiring thoughts and ideas. He’s not stupid--not by a long shot--and this magnetism draws his s/o to him like a moth to a flame. 

✩ His s/o probably realizes that their friendship and admiration for Eren has shifted into something romantic with all the ensuing drama that happens during their first trial expedition in the Survey Corps. The fear of losing Eren again really hits home and they are at a complete loss. 

☾ They wouldn’t want to ruin their friendship, so they would keep the feelings locked away for a long time. 

✩ Truthfully speaking, I can’t see Eren and any s/o getting together until the events between the four-year time skip. 

☾ Yes, Eren is worried about what he saw the day he touched Historia’s hand and often wonders about whether or not the future he peeked into is set-in-stone. 

✩ It changes his disposition. The bright, energetic, blunt boy that his s/o once knew is gone. Eren is quiet and often lost in his own thoughts; it’s not like him. So, they would cling to his side, trying to figure out what was wrong with him and what was bothering him. 

☾ How no one else doesn’t notice the change in Eren is beyond me. I’d imagine that his s/o is so aware of it that it becomes almost painful to see how withdrawn Eren has become. 

✩ Eren almost comes clean to them numerous times, but doesn’t want to put that burden on their shoulders. By the time he’s around eighteen, he realizes that he’s in love with his s/o. They are a constant in his life--always helping him and trying to distract him by taking his mind off things. It’s the only time Eren feels normal and he comes to crave their attention just as much as they do his.

☾ He confesses to his s/o beneath the stars on a night where they half-dragged him out of bed to see a meteor shower. When he finally gets to kiss them, Eren feels alive for the first time in almost three years. Everything seems perfect and he becomes scared to let go of their hand in fear that his happiness he’s found could slip between the cracks of his fingers at any moment. 

✩ Which is what happens. No matter how happy Eren is to simply be by his s/o’s side, the realization that the future he saw would come true no matter what he did makes Eren realize that being with him would only hurt his s/o down the line.

☾ As much as it kills him on the inside, he’d break up with them. They’d be in tears and ask why and the only thing Eren can think to say is that he isn’t in love with them, anymore. They are both broken hearted, but Eren knows this decision would save their life. He would never fathom asking them to go along with the Rumbling idea and loves them too much to be selfish.  

✩ The next few months are painful. It’s obvious to just about everyone, Eren’s s/o included, that he broke up with them for some unknown reason. Despite being broken up, Eren and his s/o still meet up and spend time with one another. Even though he broke up with them, Eren can’t stay away. 

☾ When Eren escapes to Marley, his s/o is crushed and wants answers so bad. Even though they trust Eren, his actions become hard to justify when he kills innocent people just to keep Paradis safe. 

✩ In canon, Eren and his s/o wouldn’t have a happy ending. It makes me so sad to think about, but...maybe in another life, they’d have a chance at happiness. 

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Would Never Hurt You

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning/s: injury, violence, blood

Word Count: 2,169

Request:  Can I just send this as a fic request....? Perhaps with a request for a little angst...? 🥺

You were surprised to see Dean when you poked your head into the weapons room, the loud noises waking you much earlier than you would have liked, but still, you weren’t complaining that he was back early.

He didn’t notice you at first as you stood leaning against the door frame. “Knock knock,” you said, rapping your knuckles on the door a couple of times to get his attention, smiling as he paused and turned to face you, a gun in either hand from the box he had been rifling through.

“Hey,” he blinked, clearly not expecting you to be there, “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“I wasn’t,” you laughed softly as he looked around at the mess he’d made, realising that he’d woken you up with all his moving around.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, putting the guns in his hands down. He looked awkward, like he was unsure what to do with himself as he stood in the room, looking almost out of place.

“What are you doing?” You asked curiously, glancing around at the sheer amount of opened box and weapons strewn about in the room. “What do you need all those for? And at this hour? Why didn’t you come to bed?”

Annoyance seemed to flash across his face, “you’re asking a lot of questions,” he commented, not answering any of them.

“I’m just curious,” you replied, feeling the need to get a little defensive at his unnecessarily snappy attitude, “weren’t you on a hunt with Sam? What happened with the shifted?”

“Oh, yeah, killed it,” he answered, clearing his throat as his eyes darted away from you slightly. Okay, what was going on? You were the one who’d been woken up early, and you hadn’t had any coffee yet, so why was he the one in a mood?

“Yeah?” You tried, hoping he’d elaborate a bit. He still hadn’t told you why he needed more weapons if they’d killed the shifter, and where was Sam? There was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Yeah, that’s what I just said,” he snapped, practically growling at you as you straightened up, shocked at the tone he was taking with you. He didn’t seem to notice, or care, turning back to the box he’d been going through.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” You asked again after a moment, DDean slamming the box lid down as soon as you’d asked it, looking back at you in frustration. 

“I-” he began, the force of the slam not only making you jump, but making what looked like a knuckle duster fall down from the shelf nearby as it rattled. 

Instinctively, Dean caught it, realising his mistake a second later as he gasped in pain, letting it go as it clattered to the ground. 

“Dean-” You went to check if he was okay, taking one step forward and then freezing in your tracks. That’s when you saw it, the burn marks on his hand where the knuckle duster had just been. The silver knuckle duster. 

“You’re not Dean,” you realised with a gasp.

 Your instincts kicked in quickly as Dean, or rather, the shifter, grabbed the nearest weapon to him, any pretence of pretending to be the man you loved gone as he snarled at you. 

You were already turning on your heels as he lunged for you, pulling the door shut behind you with a slam and running as quickly as you could, very much defenseless right now. 

You needed a weapon, and you’d just locked him in there with an arsenal.

Turning sharply into the nearest corridor you collided with the wall, kicking off your slippers so you could move quicker just as you heard a door behind you slam open and fast footsteps begin to approach. 

Where could you go? You could try to get to the kitchen, but you had no idea what weapons the shifter had taken with him when he started chasing after you, you’d probably be bringing a knife to a gun fight. 

Dean’s room was the closest now, you barefeet slapping against the cold floor as you kept your pace, the sound of the shifters echoing footsteps sounding through the empty bunker. 

“Y/N!” He yelled in Dean’s voice, so very much not Dean as you stumbled slightly. You knew the bunker like the back of your hand, but so did Dean, which meant so did the shifter. 

This fact became all too apparent as the sound of his footsteps began to recede, lulling you into a bit of a false sense of security as you slowed your own pace, still moving but a little breathless as you turned another corner, only to find yourself face to face with the monster. 

He grinned when you stumbled to a hault, realisation dawning on you that he’d gone another way around, kicking yourself for not considering the possibility. He did have Dean’s mind afterall.

You were so close to Dean’s room, if you could just make it... He’d have taken his gun, obviously, but you knew where he kept his backup knife, his silver knife. 

There was a moment where you both stood still, neither of you moving before a spell seemed to break and he charged at you, barely managing to turn on your heels and make it a few steps away before you felt a hand unceremoniously grab the back of your night gown, tugging you back harshly and sending you crashing to the floor.

He all but pounced on you as you kicked up, winding him slightly as you rolled over and tried to stand. He was only slightly inconvenienced though, a rough hand grabbing you leg and pulling you back to the ground towards him as you tried and failed to claw at the ground for something to hold on to.

A predator and its prey.

He flipped you back over and pulled a knife out from his belt, the look in his eyes and his weapon of choice telling you that he had every intention to take his time killing you.

You barely had time to react as he began to bring the knife down, the look of enjoyment on his face made a million times more haunting by the fact that it was painted onto your boyfriend’s face. 

A knee to the groin was always the best bet, whatever the species, followed by a well aimed strike to the face and knife missed it’s mark, barely. The pain as it sliced through your side was excruciating, and deep, but it wasn’t life-threatening, yet. 

Another shove and he stumbled back, clearly not expecting you to put up this much of a fight, a fact which you probably blamed on the fluffy bunny slippers he’d seen you sporting earlier. 

Step one was to get up.

You shuffled back on your butt and hands a little before turning and pushing yourself to you feet, meeting the hand that grabbed your wrist with a quick punch to the face, feeling bone crunch beneath your fist. 

Step two was run.

You certainly didn’t need any incentive, using whatever strength you had left to propel yourself forward, somehow surprising steady given the gash in your side. It was going to be hell once the adreneline wore off.

Step three was hide.

Dean’s door was just there, you could make it... And you did, pushing the door shut with a slam and locking it with slippy, blood covered fingers. It wouldn’t hold on its own though, so you shoved a unit in front of it with all your might.

“Bitch!” You heard the shifter snarl as it tried the handle, shoving the door with all its might as the unit shook. Mercifully, it held. This was the Men of Letters’ bunker afterall.

Step four was call Dean and Sam.

You made your way to the other side of Dean’s bed, shaky fingers tearing open his draw and pulling out one of his many phones, dialing the number you knew by heart and sending up a silent prayer that someone picked up.

They didn’t.

It went straight to voice mail. “Dean- Dean, it’s me, you need to get back, the shifter-” you looked down at the blood soaking your night gown and dripping down your leg, “-please hurry.”

Step five, most importantly, was survive.

You put the phone back and went to his bed, pulling the silver knife out from under his mattress along with one of his shirts, getting as comfortable as you could on the floor against the unit and applying as much pressure you could to your wound, other hand wrapped tightly around the knife as the banging continued. 

Right now, there was nothing else you could do. You just hoped Sam and Dean got back before the shifter found a way in, or you bled out.

-

You didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since the banging had subsided, but now you could hear yelling, faint at first but getting louder as more footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door, tensing in anticipation and wincing at the pain that flared again in your side. 

It was Sam and Dean, you realised, or at least, their voices, was it actually them? Or just more shifters? 

If it was them, they must have just gotten back, they’d probably seen the blood on the floor...

“Y/N?!” Dean’s voice boomed, angry and concerned as he banged on the door, “Y/N, oh god baby are you in there?!” 

“Dean-” You heard Sam try to console his brother, “maybe we have the wrong room, maybe-”

“Y/N!” Dean yelled again with strained despiration, ignoring Sam as he pounded harder. 

You gripped the knife in your hand tighter, pulling yourself shakily to your feet. The shifter hadn’t sounded like this, he’d been cold, cruel, there was emotion in Dean’s voice you didn’t think even it could mimick. Maybe it was a trap, you doubted it, but even if it was, you wouldn’t last forever in that room.

So slowly but surely, you shoved the unit to one side, hearing Dean pause on the other side as the boys waited to see who emerged from behind the door. It opened slowly, and nervously, taking a big step back and raising your knife when you felt hands push it from the other side.

“Y/N,” Dean sighed with relief. He tried to rush to you but you leveled your knife, not wanting him to take another step closer. Not until you were sure. 

His face when from one of joy and relief, to one of confusion, to finally one of concern as he caught sight of the blood, and the way you were clutching your side, fire flashing in his eyes. 

“Are you, you?” You asked him, wanting desperately to fall into his arms but still being too scared of what would happen if you were wrong, if this wasn’t Dean. 

“What?” He replied, not really listening as he took in your wound and pale complexion.

“Are, you, you?” You repeated, slower this time as he took in the silver blade you were wielding with an iron grip. It all clicked then.

“I- yes, Y/N it’s me, it’s me and Sam,” his eyes were soft, raising his hands to show you he didn’t mean any harm as he glanced back at his brother, who kept his distance to give you some space but put his gun away to show you the same. “The shifter, he was here?”

You swallowed tightly and nodded. “He looked like you- he-” you looked down at your injury subconsciously.

Dean clenched his jaw, “he hurt you, that son of a bitch-” he practically growled, “when I get my hands on him-” 

“Dean,” Sam warned, noticing how you flinched at the way his voice rose.

He focused his attention back on you immediately. “Y/N, look at me Y/N” he said softly, his voice catching a little as he made you meet his eyes, “I would never hurt you, you have to know that.”

It was all too much for you now, the knife feel like a tonne weight in your hand as you arm began to shake, letting it go as it clattered to the ground and collapsing with a sob. 

Dean caught you instantly, you arms instinctively wrapping around him as he held you, one hand gripping you tightly as the other stroked your hair. “It’s okay, shh, it’s okay, I got you, I got you...”

Dean looked to his younger brother, “I’ll go get the med kit,” Sam said knowingly, turning on his heals and hurrying. 

“Come on,” Dean muttered gently, moving one hand under your legs and picking you up with ease, “let’s go make sure you’re alright.”

“The shifter-” you began but he shook his head.

“-can wait, you’re more important right now,” he told you lovingly. 

“But we’ll get him?” You double-checked, feeling Dean’s muscles tense at the question.

“We’ll get him,” he promised, and a little part of you almost felt sorry for him.