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potatoes-is-are-food · 4 years ago

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Demon Shit

Okay so this is based very heavily off a dream I had so reader is a little more specific than usual so keep in mine “you” are small in this. There is also gonna be a part 2 because the dream didn’t end here! Anyways thank you guys for 300+ followers I really appreciate you!!

| NSFW

“Here, put this in the circle,” the witch said, eyeing you like she still didn’t trust you despite the fact you’d been helping her with this ritual for two days already. You did as instructed, placing the jar of roots in the chalk circle on the ground.

“Okay, now you wait here, stand here,” she moved you into the circle,“and I’ll be right outside. Whatever you do, don’t talk to it. Just wait for me.” She stared you down intensely before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving you in the dark with only a few candles flickering around the room to provide light.

You waited for a while, trying not to fidget and feeling very uncomfortable in the dress she’d had you wear. It was a thin material meant for a summer day, and the cold aura of the room chilled you to the bone, making you shiver and shuffle your bare feet.

Suddenly the air started to shift, and you felt a warm breeze despite there being no doors or windows open in the room. Several candles blew out, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Fear gripped your chest, your heart thumping hard in your ribcage.

Something was breathing in front of you. Right in front of you. Tentatively, you reached a hand out in front of your face. Only a few centimeters away you made contact with ...skin. You flinched, immediately bringing your hands to your chest and wringing them together nervously.

The door creaked open slowly, and your new “friend” stepped back in, letting the light from the hallway flood into the small room.

“Good, good. Now just stay there. Don’t talk to him. Just stand there and I’ll be right back, I have to get the last piece. Don’t talk to him.” She pointed a bony finger at you, jerking it forward a little for her last sentence. You nodded, still a little too shaken to speak just yet. With a nod, she was gone, leaving the door open this time to give you some light.

Nervously your eyes darted to the floor and slowly started to work up the creature’s form. It was supposed to be a demon for her to bargain with, a horrifying mass of ungodly limbs and dread. But it looked like a man. His skin was discolored in patches that were stapled to what looked like normal skin.

When you reached his face your breath caught in your throat. He was handsome, even with the weird skin and staples. His cyan eyes drew you in, without realizing it you were leaning against him slightly, your chest touching his as you tried to look more closely into those hypnotic eyes.

His warmth was just shocking enough to snap you out of it, and you leaned back off your toes, not even realizing you’d been standing on them. You looked at his blank expression and gently brought a hand up to it, grazing a single finger against his warm cheek.

You circled around him, taking in the sight of his naked body. You’d been too scared before, but with him so still he scared you much less. His muscles were rigid when you touched them, as though he were constantly flexing. Your eyes trailed the staples on his chest before venturing lower.

His flaccid cock hung heavily against him, and with a slightly more flustered disposition you turned your attention to his thighs, stroking along his skin. As you rounded to see his backside your hand trailed along his hip, following the discolored skin around as you looked over his back’s taught muscles and the curve of his ass.

When you reached his front again, you gave his cheek a light poke. No response. You felt like he could see you, though. The thought made you nervous. The woman had told you to only wear the ritual dress, and it was just a thin white dress that went a little past your knees and made you look deceptively innocent.

Warmth radiating your cheeks, you poked at him some more. His shoulder, bicep, face again. Nothing. You waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Can you even talk?” You mused, blinking up at his blank face.

His eyes locked onto you. The woman’s voice telling you not to talk to him flashed through your mind followed by a string of curses.

“Of course I can talk, little mouse,” the sound of his voice made your heart feel like it would leap out of your throat and run away. You wanted to scream but felt it die before it even reached your chest. You stared up at him with wide eyes, tears already starting to form.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. The demon’s eyes moved up and down your form, his forked tongue sweeping over his lip. You trembled, feeling your head getting lighter and lighter.

“You must be the sacrifice,” he shrugged, scooping you into his arms just as your knees buckled. “You’re no virgin, but I don’t care. You’re mine now, y/n,” He brought you close and his long tongue licked a strip up your neck, making you gasp.

“H-how-” you stared up at him, shaking violently.

“Demon shit. Don’t worry about it,” he stepped out of the circle and suddenly everything aside from him was cold again, making you shiver and curl against his chest. He chuckled and rolled his shoulders a bit, clothing appearing over his body.

You were so busy staring you didn’t notice the figure staring in the doorway until the witch screamed. She fell back, trying to crawl away as the demon calmly stepped towards her.

“I told you not to talk to it you fucking idiot!” She screeched, kicking and trying to back up further as she hit the wall. You felt the hand under your knees flex and her neck snapped, her body falling limply to the floor, face still twisted in fear.

You wanted to scream. Try to run or at least struggle, but you were rooted to the spot. No sound would come.

“Dumb hag,” he spit, the fluid hitting her skirt and immediately setting her corpse on fire. Walking down the hall and out the door, he looked down at your scared expression.

“Should’ve known better than to use a dumb little thing like you for a sacrifice,” his tongue flicked over your cheek, “You didn’t even know you were being sacrificed, huh? Just a sweet little lamb too stupid to know it’s being prepared for the slaughter,” Your face burned at his words and you stared at your hands, not wanting to make eye contact with him while your face was hot and you had tears and his spit on your cheeks.

“Hey,” he called, and you looked up at him without thinking, immediately feeling lost and drowsy in his stare, “Sleep,” he commanded, and your body went limp against him as his order overtook your exhausted body.

When your eyes finally fluttered open you just saw hazy light, like a rainy day. You squinted and sat up, blinking a few times as everything came into focus. You were facing an open window, sheer curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. The sky was overcast, and there didn’t seem to be anything outside for a long ways.

Looking around the room you noticed you were on a plush bed in a nicely furnished room. Everything looked really old, though. Like it hadn’t been touched for decades before now yet without the dust that would accompany that. You stretched and stood, heading for one of the two doors. The first lead to a bathroom, so you closed it and headed for the other one, only to find it locked.

You awkwardly paced around for a minute, debating if you’d break a leg if you jumped out the window from this height.

“Um... Mr. Demon?” You called against the door that wouldn’t open. You chewed on your lip anxiously, waiting for a response. You didn’t get one. You paced for another minute, shivering when the breeze picked up and deciding to close the window and get warm under the blankets on the large bed.

You drifted off for a second, rolling over to get more comfortable and coming face to face with the demon. A startled yelp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and he laughed softly and ruffled your hair a bit.

“W-where am I?” You asked, sliding back away from him a little.

“A house,” he answered smugly, giving you a bored expression. You frowned at him. “Don’t worry about it, doll. You’re safe. If I were gonna hurt you or eat you I’d have done it by now,” his tongue dragged slowly over his bottom lip, “although I’m debating that second thing,”

You felt all the blood in your body rush into your face and you pulled the blankets tighter against you. The corner of his mouth dragged up as he closed the distance between you, slinging an arm over your huddled form.

“You heard me earlier, little sacrifice, you’re mine. The ritual might have gotten fucked up, but you were still sacrificed to me. You couldn’t escape me if you wanted to, and I know you don’t,” his face came closer and closer until his lips were almost touching, “I can feel what you’re feeling. I know you’re scared and confused, but that’s not all,” his lips barely brushed yours as he spoke, “you’re aroused.”

Your mouth fell open before you could stop it, silently begging for his kiss and leaning into his surprisingly gentle touches as he coaxed you closer. His warm hands trailed along your soft body underneath him, palming at your breasts and thighs and any other available flesh. His long, forked tongue twisted around yours and flicked all along the insides of your mouth as you moaned against him.

“So docile, so sweet,” he muttered, trailing his lips down past your jaw and planting scalding kisses to your neck and collar bone. He tugged gently at the neckline of your dress, leaning back a bit to toy with it for a second.

“That bitch really tried to fuck you over,” he laughed, “You wouldn’t have stood a chance in this,” he gathered the flimsy material in both fists and ripped it apart easily, exposing your skin to the cool air and making you gasp. He yanked the fabric away, flinging it to some forgotten corner of the room before pouncing on you again, groping directly at your skin now as you writhed under him.

“Dabi,” he said, lips hovering against the skin of your breast. You held onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself as he started to lick and suckle at your skin.

“What?” You gasped, feeling his sharp teeth nip at you.

“My name. Scream it,” his body snaked down yours until he was lying with his face resting on your upper thigh, centimeters from your core. His hands rubbed soothingly along your thighs and hips as he kissed along your skin, inching closer to your cunt and teasing you with his unnaturally hot breath.

“Please,” you trembled, reaching out for his hand, which he let you hold, intertwining your fingers together.

“Please what?” He teased, giving you a toothy grin so you could see his sharp fangs.

“Please, Dabi,” you said softly, nervously starting to squirm under his predatory gaze. He gave your thigh another short kiss,

“Good girl,” he didn’t waste time, immediately latching onto your drooling cunt and lapping at your clit, using his forked tongue to squeeze and toy with your sensitive nub.

You arched your back, but his hand that wasn’t your stress ball forced you back down onto the bed as he worked his tongue expertly along every spot that made you scream. It hadn’t even been two minutes when you came undone on his mouth, calling his name loudly and gripping his hand as tight as you could. His mouth didn’t move, and he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you for what felt like hours.

You called his name, cried, tried to pull his hair, but you came again and again as he overstimulated you so much your orgasms started blending together. When he finally pulled away, you were twitching and unable to form words as he crawled up over you, kissing and licking the tears from your face.

“Good girl,” he cooed, letting you cling to him, “good little sacrifice,” he smirked as he said “sacrifice,” reminding you of your place as his possession.

Once your shaky breathing had mostly calmed down, he kissed you deeply, and you only just noticed his appearing clothes act was also a disappearing one. Your hands gripped his shoulders, moving along his bare chest and feeling more staples there. Your mouth welcomed his tongue, and you sighed pleasantly against his lips at the intrusion, feeling his wet muscle slide along the insides of your cheek and lap at your tongue.

His warm hands groped your breasts gently at first, kneading them for a bit before pinching your nipples hard and making you squeak against him. You felt his teeth as he smirked against your lips, his hands slipping under your body and flipping you onto your stomach with ease. He pulled you up by your hips, forcing your ass up as his other hand pushed your head down into the pillows, making you whimper softly.

He let his hips rest against the curve of your ass, and you felt something heavy and hot settle between your cheeks. Too heavy. Too hot. You started to squirm a little, and suddenly a harsh slap came down on your soft skin, making you cry out.

“Be good and take it,” he lined himself up with your soaked entrance, pushing forward slowly, “that’s it, little mouse,” he groaned, bottoming out and gently rocking his hips a few times. The sting was minimal from how wet you were, but you’d never felt so full.

Suddenly he pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back in with force that had you seeing stars and made your eyes roll back into your head. His fingers gently tangled in your hair before gripping roughly and yanking back as he pounded into your tight heat. He pulled your back to his chest, biting and sucking at your neck as he abused your pussy, one hand holding your hips in a bruising grip and the other holding you to him with your hair.

You gripped at any part of him you could reach, trying to hold on as he used you thoroughly, feeling him hitting your cervix as he snapped his hips against you. The hand on your hip slid forward to toy with your puffy clit, making you whine as he built your orgasm back up.

He sank his teeth deep into the skin of your neck as you came on his cock, blood dripping down your chest as you cried out, clenching as he slid his hand into yours in an attempt at comfort as he marked you, hips still rocking against you and dragging himself against your spasming walls. Tears spilled down your face, dripping and mixing with the blood flowing along your body as you felt yourself getting close again already.

“Gonna be hot, little sacrifice,” he groaned huskily in your ear, hips slapping against you faster. It already felt too hot inside you, the thought of how hot his cum would be had you reeling, getting closer to your own end.

He leaned forward with you, pressing you into the mattress as he rested on top of you, rutting into you harder and harder. You felt him throb inside you before streams of inhumanly hot cum flooded your walls, the feeling combined with his ministrations to your clit had you following suit, creaming around him with a sob as he slowed to a stop, pressed tightly against you to release everything he had inside. It was so hot, and there was so much of it, the sticky feeling of it sloshing around inside and spilling around your thighs and cunt had your eyes rolling back into your head as you came again. Or maybe it extended the last one, you couldn’t really tell anymore.

You completely collapsed under him, going limp as you panted, covered in sweat, tears, cum, and blood. There were spots in your vision and you lost consciousness for a few seconds, groaning softly at even the thought of moving your broken body.

“Come on, sweetness,” Dabi’s hands gently peeled you up, letting your unmoving form rest against him as he took you up into his arms, heading into the bathroom. Everything was pretty fuzzy but you ended up settled against him in a warm bath as he gently scrubbed his trail of destruction off your skin. His softness after being so rough with you had your head spinning, making you cling to him as your only source of comfort.

“Mmmm, so sweet,” he said against your hair, running his fingers through the wet tresses. “All mine now, little sacrifice,” he ran his thumb gently over the bite he’d given you, making you wince. “The ritual getting messed up had me a little nervous, there. I had to bite you like that within twelve hours to keep you,” you turned to look at him with wide eyes and he smirked down at you.

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, still staying close to him if only so he’d stay gentle.

“If the ritual doesn’t finish, the sacrifice is void. But if I can stake my claim on it before twelve hours pass I can keep it anyway. I think it’s supposed to give you a fair shot at escape,” he shrugged, “not like that would’ve happened either way,” he gave you a wink, making blood rush into your face.

“And you,” he continued, “dumb, sweet little thing, are definitely something I want to keep.” He gave the underside of your chin a tap, and you leaned up to him so he could kiss you.

After a while, he got you both out, opening the locked door out of the room and settling you into a bed in a different room of the old house, sliding in beside you and letting you cling to him as you’d been doing for several hours now. He’d made pants appear on him at some point, but you were still naked, shivering against him as he brought you to his chest.

“What happens now?” you asked, snuggled against his warmth.

“Now, you sleep for a few hours. Then we get out of this pocket dimension and summon a friend of mine. You’ll get to help with that.”

“Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Demon shit. Now go to sleep.” He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, and you closed your eyes obediently, almost immediately falling asleep.

@soup-forthesoul @vermeilies @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shigraki

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha dabi #bnha dabi #my hero academia dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya todoroki #demon dabi #demon shit

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sugako · 4 years ago

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after class

ta!suga x f!reader cw: 18+ mdni, college au, alcohol consumption mention (not during the main plot), dubcon (bc of power imbalance & suga coming on VERY strong), oral (giving), facefucking, public sex (no one sees), teasing (receiving), blink once & u miss it degradation, fingering (receiving), quickie/rough sex, unprotected sex wc: 2.5k+ a/n: here is my wee lit ta suga brainrot ,, boy do i hate academia but wow do i like writing shit in a college setting

It was just a literature class, an enjoyable one at that. Yet, every time you walked through the door, the dull thump of your heart sped up. Hovering nearby, he was almost always there, not that you really minded. Maybe your mind was clouded with romantic thoughts because of the room - it was in the oldest part of campus and it showed with the cozy wooden walls and a stained chalkboard at the front of the room.

The nostalgia encouraged by the soft, warm light that streamed through the windows only made your longing more intense. He looked like you imagined a tricky mythical being to look, all sweet and inviting on the outside while fierce and feral inwardly. About a week into class he revealed his true self when reviewing - or rather tearing into - everyone's essays.

You noticed his eyes first. They way they lingered on you when he stepped in to lecture, flitted around your face and down your body, lit up when he went on a tangent about a theme he particularly enjoyed. Even though your mind sometimes wandered, everything was still outwardly appropriate. You called him by his last name like he asked, he called on you appropriately, answered your emails and graded your papers just like anyone else's.

One mistake-filled Friday night you made the mistake of following your friends to the nearest bar, and there he was. Face flushed with happy tears in his eyes he stood up at the bar with some of his friends. When his eyes fell on you the gears slowly turning in his head were visible.

He rushed over, chest pressed tightly against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you and ushered you up the counter.

“So good to see you!” He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You knew it was wrong, you tried so hard to tell yourself it was wrong, but he wasn’t much older than you and you weren’t in class now so what difference did it make, you reasoned. Besides, he was drunk and you had a drink in you already and he smelled so nice… “...too, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Huh?” You barely heard him over the roar of the crowd around you and the music vibrating off the walls.

“Heh, nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m gonna buy you a shot, you deserve it after that last essay. Very well thought out.” Being overly crisp in his words to achieve some kind of comedic affect you assumed. He leaned slightly into the counter, bringing you with him, and quickly ordered. Within minutes the bartender had placed the clear shots before you. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, clinking his small glass against yours, sending half of his shot onto the floor.

It burned like always, but you held back your reaction, lips barely pursing as you set the glass back down.

“Thanks,” you started, unraveling yourself from his warm body, “I gotta get back to my friends, but it was nice seeing you.” You said softly, some little part not wanting to leave him.

Suga held you out by your waist and nodded once. “Good to know you can take rough things so well, go on then.” He says with a little push.

His words confusingly haunt you for a moment before you realize he’s talking about the ‘rough’ shot you just took, even if the wording was crude. The rest of the night you agonize over what he meant. “Good to know you can take rough things.” But by next Monday, it’s as if it never happened. He carries on in class like normal and so do you, until a week later.

He’s handing back quiz scores at the end of class, conveniently leaving you until last. The way he sped through lecture today, there’s about ten minutes left and, with no professor around this day to stop him, he dismisses everyone early. Except you.

“Can you actually stay behind a few minutes? I just want to talk about your answers.” When fear flashes across your eyes, he chuckles easily just like he was back at the bar and your heartbeat only speeds up. “Nothing bad, I’m just interested in your answers.” In tense silence, the two of you stand, waiting until the last student has made their way out.

“So which question-”

“Actually, I think there’s a better way for you to improve your score.” He grins devilishly, getting up from his spot beside you to fully close the door. Suddenly the room feels very stuffy and you’re very aware of everything around you. It makes your stomach turn, you’re not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way, but you weather through and take a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m comfortable with the score I got.”

“I know, I know, you did very well.” He soothes while he makes his way back over just to lean precariously against the very tiny desk attached beside you. “It’s just… I know you try so hard, you pay attention to me more than anyone in this class. I think you deserve extra credit just for that.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” You struggle out, trying to find the words. Brain racing, you have no clue what to make of the situation. It seems like he has everything planned out, scripted, and you’re just blindly following along like a lost, little lamb.

“You know, I notice how you blush and smile sometimes when I lecture, and you take notes just so well while I’m speaking. I mean it’s very cute, don’t get me wrong, but you pay even better attention to me than you do your own professor.” He scoffs.

The way your chest is rising and falling is visible now, you’re sure he can see it through the thin material of your little sundress. “Sorry, you’re just always so excited I guess I get caught up, but umm… are you sure there isn’t another class coming in, I jus-”

“No,” he says sternly, “there’s not another class in this room for hours. But why be worried about something like that?” Suga asks with a small, knowing smile.

“I-I, uh, well I don’t know, I just thought… just making sure I g-guess.” You sputter out, quivering voice betraying yourself.

“What did you think I meant?” He asks evenly, the smile slipping from his features. Like a fish gasping for air, your mouth bobs open and shut, struggling to find the words or maybe a lie, but he doesn’t let you. He closes the tight space between the two of you with a short kiss that you immediately sigh into.

Pleased with your relaxed reaction, he pulls away almost at once, dropping your quiz from his hands onto the floor in between you. Mind spinning, you’ve barely registered the kiss before you’re crouching down to pick up the paper.

“Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.” He says plainly, placing a hand over your shoulder.

“No problem,” you begin while you start to rise, only to be stopped by his tightening grip on you.

“Sorry, you just look so pretty down there.” He coos, taking his hand away when you relax onto your knees and place the papers back down. You don’t know what to think, especially with his noticeable bulge so directly within eyesight. You want to be here, you can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt in that brief moment or what lies beneath his pants, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty. The sound of a zipper snaps you back to the reality where you’re on your knees in front of your TA.

“I, um…”

“You can do whatever you want right now, sweetheart.” The nickname he gave you at the bar makes heat surge through your veins. “But I want you to know if you chose to stay here and to touch me, I’m not gonna hold back, mmkay?”

Taking a deep, swallowing breath you nod quickly, fingers grappling at the pale blue waistband of his boxer briefs. “I understand,” you whisper out, “I want you.”

“Okay, princess, don’t say I didn’t-” His big talk is cut off when you mouth over him through the soft fabric, licking over the tiny wet stain he’s produced. “Oh,” he chuckles meanly, “so hungry for my cock, huh?”

Nodding deftly, you tug down on the waistband, letting his length slap against his clothed abdomen. He’s pretty, neatly trimmed, and pale but with a pretty, pink tip that makes you clench around nothing. The way his thighs are tensed under his slacks, you know he’s holding back, and you don’t want to make him wait any longer.

At a careful pace, you take him into your hand, pumping gently while you guide him into your mouth. When the salty taste of his precum hits your tongue he snaps. His hands bury into the back of your neck, holding you exactly in place when he shallowly pumps himself into you. Painfully, you relax your jaw, letting him use you while big tears well up in the corners of your eyes from the sting.

Over and over again his cock hits the back of your throat, gliding past the mess of spit that’s built up in your mouth. He feels so right, so good and all you can think about is him. Your nails dig into his legs, trying to find some purchase in the smooth material of his pants.

He watches as you keep your eyes trained up on him, admiring the spit already spattered across your cheeks. “So messy, sweetheart, you’re adorable.” He says just loud enough for you to hear over his unrelenting pace.

It’s hard to understand him with how hard you’re focusing on sucking in his cock while he fucks into you. “Always knew your pretty mouth was good for more than answering stupid questions.” Suga grunts, shuddering when your throat spasms around him, and swiftly pulling out.

Panting for a bit of air, you heave on the floor, upper half only held up by the loose grip you have on his thighs. Before you can catch your breath, he’s dragging you back onto your feet and facing your body away from his. A heavy hand forces your chest down against the tiny desk before you and his feet kick yours apart.

“Wore this cute, little dress for me?” He asks, flipping up the skirt and palming over your ass.

“N-no, I had a, uh, presentation today.” You try to say, the lie evident with how heavy the words weigh on your tongue.

“Oh, shut up,” he laughs, “I know this is the only class you have today, you told me that weeks ago.” He hums, fingers toying with the edge of your underwear, moving them around across your skin this way and that until he finally pulls them down. “And you wore these slutty panties just for me too. Probably thought about touching yourself after class while you thought about me instead. Isn’t this much better though?”

“Yeah, a lot better.” You squeak as his fingers force your thighs farther apart, meeting you aching cunt just to spread your slick around.

“Your panties are ruined, completely soaked. Must have been thinking about me all class I bet.”

“N-no,” but before you can argue he presses two fingers into you, scissoring them inside of you.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He replies and you can hear the eye roll in his tone. Again, his free hand presses between your shoulder blades, squishing you harshly against the desk. With a little sigh, he takes his fingers away from you and uses both hands to perfectly position your hips for himself. “Ready, sweetheart?” He asks sweetly, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“Yes, please, please fuck me!” You cry, finally crumbling before him and burning with need.

He’s so close now you can feel him, the want that’s built up in your brain over the last couple months is nearly unbearable now. You feel his fingers curl into the flesh around your hips just before he eagerly sinks into you. Involuntarily, you let out a shaky gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out.

“Relax for me princess,” he grunts, partially enjoying how tightly you’re clamped around him, “this isn’t an exam.”

It’s impossible to think of a witty retort or even a weak one while you shake around his cock, desperate for him to fill you up. On their own accord, you hips twitch back trying to meet him fully, but he only laughs and keeps you in place.

“I was gonna go easy on you, but since you seem to want me so bad…” he trailed off, slowly dragging himself out, the weight of his cock heavy against your gummy walls, “...you can have me.” His final word is punctuated by a harsh snap of his hips that fills you to the brim.

All you can muster is a broken, little whimper as his thighs continually smack against your backside while he fucks you into the desk. Any regard or concern you had for the world of students or staff outside the thin walls of this room was gone and it appeared his was as well. The wet squelching smacks of your bodies meeting bounced around the walls, the thin carpet failing to dampen much of any noise at all.

Through all of your spasms and twitches his pace was unrelenting. “Go ahead and touch yourself,” he said when he noticed the way your fingers danced around, obviously preoccupied, “wanna feel your pretty, little cunt cum.”

Managing out a little sound of agreement, you quickly wedge your wrist under your body, trying your best to circle your needy clit while he’s ramming you back and forth. It doesn’t take long before your sobbing out, hips rutting against his, feeling the coil deep inside draw you closer and closer to the edge. You keep your fingers in time with his motions, making quick work of your own pleasure, not holding back when you feel the last bit of resistance before your fall.

With a short, choked cry you’re gushing around him, convulsing around his cock while he slows just enough, his own thrusts getting suddenly out of time.

“Good girl.” He groans, a brief surge of pride and energy pushing him to his own finish line, the way you’re still periodically clamping down around him certainly being of some help. “I’m gonna ruin this perfect pussy.” He barely manages to mumble out before he’s holding you deep and close, his cock twitching deep inside of you just before his cum shoots against your walls.

“Feel so good.” You sigh, fully relaxing into his touch, the sleepy haze of your orgasm overtaking your senses. As he comes down from his high, he massages your shoulders, slumping over your own exhausted body and wrapping his arms around your middle. You don’t miss how his fingers cradle just under your breasts, kneading lightly.

“I think,” he starts, still very much out of breath, “we’ll need a couple tutoring sessions, just to clear up everything.”

#suga x reader #suga smut #sugawara x reader #sugawara smut #sugawara koshi x you #sugawara koshi smut #suga x you #hq smut #sugawara koshi x reader

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

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Horror Movies on Valentine's Day

Thomas is celebrating Valentine's Day with all the sides individually before the 14th actually comes around. Today is his 'date night' with Virgil and as it turns out: horror movies have become the new romantic genre!

This prompt was put together during a roleplay with Pumpkinpaw. With her permission, I could create (and edit the hell out of) this fanfic! I hope you enjoy the fanfic, Lu!

And Happy Valentine's Day to all my friends, online friends, and followers on AO3 and Tumblr! I know there are some people who don't like Valentine's Day because it's turned into a money grab and expectation creator, but hey: the whole holiday started out in Rome and included sacrificing 2 men named Valentine. This happened a few times during the third century!

Sooooooo: Fuck off love! (THIS IS A JOKE!)

Thomas had been trying to hang out with all the sides as Valentine's Day showed up. He often tried to save the Valentine’s family/friends stuff on actual Valentine’s day, and would celebrate with the sides before the day. He adored them and wanted to show his appreciation for all the parts of him that made him Thomas Sanders.

He had started out with Patton because he had known him the longest. He made Valentine’s crafts and cards with the Dad, and had a snuggle party with all of Patton’s stuffed animals! They even made little palm-sized heart pillows! They were so cute and a couple of them ended up with googly eyes and pink lipstick!

For Logan, Thomas had put together some board games to play and shared a cup of red wine with him. Logan often liked simple and enjoyable, so Thomas offered that to him. He also...may or may not have drawn little hearts and cheesy messages on Logan’s face by the time he fell asleep from the wine...

When he moved onto Roman, Thomas threw a red-themed Valentine’s Day fiesca for him. Roman happily enjoyed the endless chocolate bits, the cute little edible hearts and absolutely loved the roses he received for Valentines day. “I no longer feel single this Valentine’s Day!” Roman had reacted, crying a tear or two.

Now, it was Virgil’s turn. He didn’t really know what exactly to do because of his ‘darker’ aesthetic. But, he knew Virgil would help him figure out what they could do together. Thomas called him and had him summoned in front of him.

Virgil stumbled a little as he was summoned. “Oh- Jeez! Warn a dude, Thomas!” Virgil reacted, thrown a little off guard by the sudden change of scenery.

Thomas bit his lip in both guilt yet amusement. “Hi Virgil. Sorry about that.” Thomas replied, waving.

Virgil adjusted his sweater and moved his bangs back into his eyes. “‘Sup Thomas. Whatddya need?” He asked.

Thomas chuckled and handed him a card that said ‘Valentine I’m batty for you’ with a cute bat and a few black and purple hearts below it. Virgil smiled a little at the gesture. “Thanks Thomas. You didn’t have to.”

Thomas laughed at that. “I wanted to! I wanted to hang out with you!” Thomas told him.

Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Say what now?”

Thomas giggled. “I want to hang out with you.” Thomas repeated.

Virgil looked around a little and shrugged his shoulders. “Alright.”

Virgil took his invite, but his eyes said something a little different.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

Virgil bit his lip and looked away. “Why the hell do you wanna hang out with me of all people?” Virgil asked.

Thomas’s face softened as he opened his arms to him. Virgil reluctantly took the hug, and grew surprised when he felt Thomas sit him down. “Because I’m celebrating Valentine’s day with all the sides!” Thomas replied.

Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “But...Why me? Anxiety? Hello?” Virgil asked, a little more bluntly. “Why not Patton?”

Thomas smiled at that. “Cause I’m in the mood to hang out with you!” Thomas replied. “And I already hung out with Patton recently.”

Virgil blinked in surprise. “Uh…okay…”

Virgil shifted in his seat, not sure what he had planned. “So...What do you wanna...y’know...do?” he asked.

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. What do you do on Valentines day?” Thomas asked.

Virgil scoffed and smiled. “Horror movies are usually my go-to.” He admitted.

Now it was Thomas’s turn to be surprised. “Really? You watch horror movies?” Thomas reacted.

Virgil smirked and snickered. “I watch them all the time.” Virgil replied.

Thomas bit his lip. “I...but you’re…”

“I’m fight or flight? Yeah, funnily enough: I don’t get spooked easily.” Virgil added.

Thomas widened his eyes and clapped his hands. “Alright! Let’s watch a horror movie!” Thomas replied, turning on the TV. “Any specific horror movies you wanna watch?” he asked.

Virgil shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Thomas soon came up with ‘The Silence of the Lambs’.

Virgil laughed when Thomas considered that one. “Do I look like a Remus to you?” He asked.

“No, but I do know you like cult classics. And this is as classic as it gets.” Thomas replied. “And: it was released on February 14th.” He added.

Virgil looked at the screen with a confused and surprised face. “Why was that the release date option for this thriller movie?” Virgil asked.

“Maybe we can watch and find out ourselves?” Thomas offered.

Virgil chuckled. “Oh BoY! I cAn’T wAiT!” Virgil declared in his best Remus impression. Thomas bursted out laughing at that. “Oh! I have an idea.” Virgil added suddenly. Thomas slowly stopped laughing and looked at him. “Let’s turn this into a game. First person to get scared gets tickled for an hour.” Virgil suggested.

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Really?! Where the heck did that come from?!” Thomas asked.

Virgil froze up a little and bit his lip. “Remus and I used to play it.” Virgil admitted. “It was a challenge option that suited both of us, and we would make challenges based on the movies.” Virgil explained.

Thomas smiled and poked his side. Virgil jumped and shot him a warning look with a smirk. “The movie hasn’t started yet! That’s cheating!” Virgil yelled at him.

Thomas threw his hands up. “Fine, fine! Okay.” Thomas turned on the movie.

“Good luck.” Virgil purred in a teasy, smug voice.

Thomas smirked. “Good luck to you too.” He replied. Virgil gave Thomas a push as the production logos finished playing.

The movie started off with Clarice training and running in the woods. The movie moved right along to Clarice getting the case all the way to her seeing the information about Dr. Hannibal Lector and meeting him. The meeting was mostly quiet and as a result, it had been turned up quite loudly to catch the dialogue.

Partway through their first meeting, Clarice calmly throws a comeback to Dr. Lector’s personal and over specific observations about Clarice. Virgil smiled at Clarice’s intelligence. The feeling of satisfaction filled him as he looked away for only a minute, before the sound of something screeching made him jump and look back over.

The screeching was only a desk. A bloody desk. The movie had been so quiet until then.

Thomas laughed at this and started wiggling his fingers menacingly. “60 minutes of tickles is a gooooo!” He declared excitedly.

Virgil yelped and leaned back. “N-No! Nah! I-I wasn’t ready!-”

Thomas giggled and brought his fingers closer and closer to Virgil. “No one’s eeeever ready for jumpscares…” Thomas reminded him slyly.

Virgil bit his lip as a wobbly grin appeared on his face.

“Hey Alexa! Set a timer for 60 minutes!” Thomas yelled to the Alexa in the kitchen.

Virgil widened his eyes and punched his arm lightly. “You ass!”

[Setting a timer for 60 minutes.] Alexa replied.

Thomas immediately started tickling his sides and ribs first. Virgil grunted and bucked his hips, refusing to give him what he wanted without a fight. Thomas snickered at his determination. “I should’ve known the ticklish emo would hide his giggles.” Thomas said with a sly voice. “Am I gonna have to work to get any laughter out of you?” He asked as well.

Virgil glared at him, pushing Thomas’s shoulders while he fought. In response: Thomas grabbed his wrist sleeves in one hand, and pinned them a couple feet above Virgil’s own belly.

Virgil fought to pull his wrists away. “You won’t get me laughing.” Virgil angrily vowed, struggling to pull his sweater sleeves out of Thomas’s hand.

Thomas giggled at that, and took a mental note of the unzipped sweater. “There there, we’ll see about that!” Thomas dug his fingers into the open armpit. “A tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle!” Thomas teased as he moved his hand down to his upper ribs.

Virgil blushed a bright red from the teasing alone, and bit his lip hard as he writhed under the man.

Next, Thomas moved his hands to his belly and started drumming and squishing it. “Look at dis wittle bewwyyyy! It’s so squooshy and adorable!” Thomas teased even further in a baby voice.

By now, the teasing and tickling was starting to get to him. Virgil had started letting out a few little giggles here and there. “Shuhut uhup!” Virgil shot back.

Thomas gasped excitedly. “Was that a giggle I heard?” Thomas teased, still treating Virgil like a little kid.

Virgil just growled at that. “F-Fuck off.”

Thomas just continued to tickle him, going higher and higher pitched to baby him even more. “Was that a giggle I heard?” Thomas moved his hand to his side and started squeezing. “Was that a giggle giggle giggle I heard?” Thomas teased with his face closer to Virgil’s. Virgil clenched his teeth and started slightly tittering as his lips stretched and loosened. “I think it was!” Thomas answered his own question.

Virgil’s throat was letting out little titters and giggles while his lips were working against him and creating a smile despite his attempts to stop it. “Sh-Shuhut uhup! Ahass!” Virgil shot back hollowly while kicking and bucking to get Thomas off of him.

Thomas giggled and took another look at the unzipped sweater. The reality of the situation was that Virgil could easily get out of there. He could easily slip his hands out and run away without his jacket. So Virgil was either super connected to his jacket, or Virgil didn’t want to escape!

“Hey Virgil?” Thomas asked.

“Whahahat?” He responded.

“Do you like being tickled?” he asked him.

Virgil scoffed at that. “Whahat gahave yohohou thahat idehea?” Virgil shot back with a deepening red blush.

Thomas smirked and leaned in. “Don’t make me do it…” He warned. “Dooon’t make me do the raspberry thing!” Thomas warned, leaning closer and closer with a big smirk on his face.

Virgil glared defiantly at him. But...there was the slightest smirk on his face that told him everything: “Fuck. Off.”

Thomas smiled as he listened to that reply, and blew a BIG raspberry on Virgil’s covered belly. Virgil threw his head back and SCREAMED!

Thomas bursted out laughing at him as he lifted his head away from his belly. “Here lies Virgil Sanders. A beloved person with a blunt yet secretly caring attitude towards life. May his soul and cohohonfidehehence-” Thomas had to pause to let himself laugh at his own stupid joke, “Rehest in peheheace.”

Virgil punched Thomas in the arm with his ‘bound’ arm lightly. “Shuhuhut the fuhuhuck up!” He yelled back at him.

Thomas smiled in pure amusement as he resumed tickling his side. The man leaned in again and blew another belly raspberry on his ticklish victim.

Virgil started squealing and kicking as his laughter finally broke free from his lungs. “FAAAHAHAHAHAHAHACK!”

Thomas gasped excitedly and threw his fist in the air! “YES! I DID IT!” he shouted before returning back to tickling. Virgil just hissed through his laughter and shook his head.

Thomas quickly started tickling up and down his ribs and sides. He wanted to get as much laughter as he could out of Virgil, before the hour ended and the movie resumed.

Virgil threw his head back as he laughed harder, while squirming and shaking his body back and forth.

“Listen to his laughter! You can surely tell he’s experiencing heaven!” Thomas declared proudly.

Virgil glared right at Thomas again, kicking his legs uselessly behind Thomas.

Thomas took this as evidence to the truth. “Or maybe, this IS his heaven!” Thomas offered. “Is getting tickled by your main Sanders your ultimate choice of heaven?” Thomas teased.

Virgil’s face was bright and shaded with blush from forehead to collar bones. “I HAHAHATE YOHOHOHOU!” He shouted back.

Thomas sent Virgil a fake pity face. “Awww, I don’t think you hate me that much, do you?” Thomas asked, before giving Virgil’s belly button a poke.

Finally, Virgil pushed against him and tried sitting up. “Yehehehes!”

But Thomas gasped in hurt and offense. “How DARE you!” He reacted. “That hurts my poor, weakened heart! How dare you say such nasty things!” Thomas reacted dramatically, almost replicating a Roman move.

Virgil completely paled at his expression and immediately tried scrambling off the couch. But Thomas was fast! The man wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist and pulled him right back into his ticklish demise. This time: in his lap.

“Screw you dude!” Virgil shot at him.

“The hour isn’t up yet, Virgil!” Thomas reminded him.

“I don’t care!” Virgil argued, squealing as Thomas was already getting back to work.

Thomas wrapped one arm around Virgil’s waist and used the other hand to squeeze and dig into Virgil’s hip. Virgil threw his head back against Thomas’s shoulder and laughed his heart out. This made Thomas smile happily. Listening to Virgil’s laugh was like a treat to anyone. So Thomas made it a point to listen to it without his own teasing drowning out the pretty sound.

Virgil continued to push against him, but his force had lessened quite dramatically from earlier. As an ending finale, Thomas made his other arm join around Virgil’s waist and blew a raspberry into his neck.

Thomas was expecting a loud scream, a burst of cackles or a snort of some sort!

But all he got was a short giggle fit. Though it was a lackluster finale, Thomas still applauded the sound of Virgil’s giggles.

Thomas lifted his head back up and noticed there was STILL no alarm going off to indicate the end of the timer. So, he decided to ask. “Het Alexa! How much time is left?” He asked.

[There is 10 minutes left on the timer. Would you like to stop it, Gay Lord?] Alexa asked.

Virgil wheezed at the unexpected nickname. THAT WAS THE ALEXA’S NICKNAME FOR THOMAS?! IT WAS PERFECT!

“GAHAHAHAY LOHOHOHORD!”

Thomas snickered at that too. “Ihi forgot I set that as my nickname!” he admitted.

Virgil snorted at that and continued to laugh hysterically at the nickname.

Yehehehes, stop the tihimer!” Thomas replied to Alexa.

[............You will need to connect to the internet first-]

Thomas leaned forward and bursted out laughing at that, while Virgil shook his head. “FUHUCK YOU, ALEXA!” Thomas yelled at the AI.

[But...But…]

Virgil leaned his head back against Thomas’s chest and laughed himself to tears. Virgil’s entire body was shaking and spasming from how hard he was laughing. Thomas was also just allowing himself to die of laughter. As it would turn out, the tickling he got from Thomas was nothing compared to Alexa’s stupidity! Alexa’s stupidity seemed to make him laugh even more!

Well, make that both of them.

Thomas soon stopped laughing and patted Virgil’s back to help him get it out so he could breath. Virgil had been tickled AND thrown into more fits of laughter after. So he was in more dire need of breath now than before.

Virgil eventually stopped laughing and was left with heavy panting. “Ahahaha...oh...oh my gosh…” Virgil tried to speak. “I...I’ll admit...I…” Virgil was starting to confess something to him.

Thomas allowed him time to get his words out and rested his head on the back of the couch. Thomas took the time to stop the movie that was still playing while they had the tickle fight.

Virgil bit his lip. “I...had a lot of fun…” He finally got out.

Thomas smiled genuinely at that. “Yeah?”

Virgil turned to look at Thomas behind him, and nodded. “Yeah.”

Thomas hugged Virgil from behind and rested his chin on his shoulder. But Virgil turned himself around and gave Thomas a tight hug. Virgil’s eyeshadow had turned a purple color from the love and affection he was getting. But there was still one more thing he wanted to tell Thomas.

“Thomas?” Virgil called.

Thomas tilted his head. “Yes?”

Virgil purred. “Uh...I uh…” He closed his eyes. “I love you.”

Thomas smiled and gently fluffed his hair. “I love you too Virgil!” Thomas replied.

Virgil cuddled up against Thomas and allowed him to play with his hair more. Virgil started to purr and melt into the touch he was being given. Before they knew it, both the boys had fallen asleep.

Later on, Roman had walked out of the room and noticed the two cuddlers. He giggled and took a picture before sending it to the others. After that, Roman draped a blanket on top of them and sat down on the other side of the couch.

Logan: [I’m delighted to see Thomas and Virgil spending time together.]

Janus: [This is totally not the cutest thing I’ve seen in ages.]

Roman laughed at Janus’s reaction and replied: [I know, right?!]

Remus: [Awww! Cuties! 💚💚]

Patton: [Look at my two adorable kiddos cuddling!! 💖😻 I set it as my lock screen!]

#valentine's day fluff #valentine's 2021 #silence of the lambs reference #ticklefic #ler!thomas #lee!virgil #family bonding

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hope-to-hell · 4 years ago

Text

A Possession, part three: Dissolution. August Walker x Henry Cavill. Warnings for the entire fic: possession, dubcon (possession-related; our hero never asked for this), mentions of past torture (prior to story events), some degradation, praise kink. Roughly 6k words altogether. Section heading titles largely pulled from whatever music I was listening to at the time. This is it: the last chapter. A little smut, a little angst. Nothing lasts. Part one is here, part two is here

—-

Shake, shake

—-

Somehow, impossibly, you make it more than a week without touching him. And somehow, you figure out a way to exist in the same space. Thank god for quarantine, at least, so you have an excuse to stay at home, to keep this weirdness out of the public eye.

Walker turns out to be a surprisingly competent cook, but hesitates when you ask what his favorite foods are. And despite everything, it’s so hard to shake the feeling of being a host, of providing for your guest, however uninvited he might be. So you make a grocery order and start in on the best dishes you know: pies and roast lamb, hamburgers, risotto, whatever comes to mind when you think of meals you’ve enjoyed. He eats them all dutifully, but it’s not until you hit upon rainbow trout in parchment that you get your first real sigh of pleasure. Huh. You would’ve pegged him for a red meat kind of guy.

And everything you do, everywhere you go, he’s there, watching. Considering. Ten feet away.

It’s like this. One evening he braces one hand against the wall of the shower and drops his head in a pose you know so well. You don’t mean to look, but Christ, he must want you to. Must, because he draws open the shower door to stare straight at you from under his sopping curls as he fists his cock. Must, because he kicks his legs apart to press hard behind his balls with his other hand. Must, because he hisses your name like a curse when he paints the bathroom floor white. And the whole time his eyes are locked on yours.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he says again, and somehow you find the voice to answer.

“Wouldn’t mind isn’t good enough. You’ve got to tell me you want it.” And you have the satisfaction of seeing August Walker poleaxed, however briefly. He hmms a little, thoughtfully, and brushes past you into the bedroom, water droplets shining on the curve of his ass. His gait hitches as he approaches the limits of separation, and you hurry to follow, clean enough to get by for another night but feeling filthier than you have any right to. And when you slide carefully under the covers, he inhales deeply, like he’s scenting you. He smiles, victorious, in the half-dark as you lie there with both hands fisted in the sheets just like you have for days, but now you know exactly what he looks like when he comes.

Fuck.

He escalates, because of course he does. He waits until you’re soaking up sunshine in the kitchen window, then presses in close to cage your body against the counter. He brushes scarred fingertips down the side of your face, and it’s like your mind has been ripped straight out of your body. You feel him touching you, and fuck. You feel him touching you. It’s the strangest sensation, touches doubling and echoing. Licking into his mouth and tasting your own tongue, pulling him in by the hips and feeling matching bruises rise on your own body. And from the way he surges against you, he must feel it too.

Remember. Your nerves are my nerves. You want me to say it? Here it is, directly from my mind to yours. I. Want. This.

This is the part of the movie where it fades to black, where the last thing the audience sees is the lovers, entwined, maybe a flash of light on a naked thigh. This is the part where the music swells, climaxes, spills into silence.

This is the part where the next scene is either a soft, affectionate embrace or a hasty exit from the bed, a quick redressing and an angsty downtempo tune, maybe a walk in the rain.

This is the part where he starts to rise, where you wrap your hand around his wrist and whisper, “stay.”

—-

Untethering

—-

It isn’t clear, at first, what’s happening. A little extra hair in the drain is easy to explain away; you’ve got two people sharing the shower now. Same with the bruising that appears on his arms, his back, his ribs, because for all he grips at you, you give back in equal measure. And if he takes a little longer in the shower than before, if he seems to spend an awfully long time just leaning back and letting the spray hit him, well, maybe he’s finally relaxing a little.

It’s days and days of rutting against one another, of watching in the mirror as he takes you apart. And he loves it, that grinding ache in his fingers as he presses them inside you. He loves it, and you know because you feel it; you feel an answering ache in your own hands and a twinge in your cock that’s almost but not quite unlike anything you’ve felt before (it’s close, so close, to the first time, when he was still just a voice in your head).

Somehow, it’s still a surprise when he shakes you awake and hisses, “Get inside me. Now.” And when you reach for him, a little hesitant because you’ve had each other in nearly every way except this, you taste something strange and metallic, chilly on your tongue. He’s anxious, desperate. The metallic taste increases in its intensity as he surges at your mouth, licking into you with savage competency.

“Are you—“ are you sure is what you want to say, but he’s pressing lube at you with one hand while trying to tear your sleep pants off with the other, and it feels like he’s got half a dozen hands roaming all around you, and it’s unfair because he knows exactly what this does to you, exactly how you respond to every touch. It’s overwhelming, and soon you lose that peculiar metallic taste in the static that sparks hot down your spine and right into where you swell and pulse with the sudden desperate need of him.

And you want to watch his face, watch those eyes shine in the darkness, want to rub your face against his as you open him but he’s turning away, over, hitching a knee under himself and reaching blindly back for your hand. “Now,” he grits out in a voice like the bottom of a dry well. And it’s too soon, has to be, before he’s demanding two and then three fingers and then “godfuckingdammit, that’s enough. Get in me already.”

And when you press into him it’s, fuck, for a moment your vision whites out and you are nowhere, hurling aimlessly through a great expense of nothing, and it’s simultaneously the most terrifying and exhilarating thing you’ve ever felt. Is it like this for him? Can’t be, he’s always so controlled, so precise. It’s impossible even to think like this,

I’ll think for you. Don’t worry, just act.

so you don’t think, and when you return to your body it’s to find yourself draped over him, clinging, rolling your hips like a ship in a storm. Desperation doubles back and builds on itself until you feel as though if you don’t come right now you will die. And you don’t want to die, but you also aren’t sure what the rules are, so you try to withdraw and that’s when his hand closes around your wrist, hard and tight and don’t you fucking dare.

And that’s it, that’s all it takes, his touch and his blessing, before you’re spilling inside him in long shivering pulses. And even then, even when he clenches so tight around you it’s like he’s pulling all the blood from your body, he doesn’t let you go.

You stay with him, in him, until you soften and slip free, and when you wrap an arm over his belly he lets you. He feels warm, as relaxed as he ever gets, and most of all relieved. “Better?” you ask, and in return he twists his neck, rolling his shoulders back till he can reach to kiss you. It’s soft, but almost mathematical in its precision. And he still tastes like metal.

—-

Waves and light (how bold I was)

—-

He’s stopped sleeping. In the night you reach for him and find the bed cold. He’s there, of course, ten feet away, staring out the window. He’s all hard muscle, luminous in the moonlight, a demigod or an avenging angel. He turns and tilts his head, and you can see his breath hang frosty in the air. You wake in the morning to find him still standing at the window, and for a split second you could swear the light passes right through him.

He’s stopped sleeping, and he hovers a little closer than he used to but he doesn’t touch, not until you sigh and tell him to “get over here. C’mon. I don’t have to touch you to know you’re worried about something.”

So you enclose him in the circle of your arms, bump your face against his scars to feel that little spark, that staticky sensation from nerve damage, to feed him the pleasure that touching him brings. You breathe softly, saying nothing, until he relaxes by degrees.

He smells like blood, but then again he always does. Chaos and death are embedded into every fiber of his being. If he were to shed his skin, to slither pink and naked into the world as a man reborn, maybe it would be different. But he is who he is, and you are who you are, although tangled like this it’s sometimes hard to tell the difference. One of you sparks a slow-burning arousal, the kind that takes hours to come to a head if it does at all, a slow soft yearning. You sigh into it, nuzzling at him a bit, feeling your stubble scrape across his cheek. Like this, you can almost forget who and what he is.

And he hears you, huffs a little. What I am doesn’t matter anymore, not outside these walls. And I—

He sucks in a breath, harsh and wet, sucking air up from your lungs. It burns, scraping bloody up your throat.

Metal again. And pressed against him like this, you can catch the echoes of fear, of a strange sort of dissolution. Light through greasepaper, snow drifting through broken windows. Shoulders straining against his jacket. Blood and bone and a lonely valley. Trying to breathe but the shards of his ribs dig into his lungs—

Oh.

Oh fuck. You realize, then, that he’s dying, pulled back to that moment. None of this mattered in the end; all it did was delay the inexorable march of fate. You can almost see it happening, scars brightening and blooming into wounds, bruises rising where he hit the ground. And you hear it too, the slow scrape of metal across the floor, the heavy tread of boots and a soft susurration of fabric. She’s here.

And it’s strange: you’d expect her to revel in this, finally capturing this soul that’s eluded her for so long. But it’s almost like she’s trying to be comforting. Things fall apart. Entropy comes for us all, in the end. And you got more time than most.

Listen, I don’t want to you have to go. His fingers tremble against yours, coppery fear blooming heavy on your tongue.

I’m not unkind, you know. It’s just the way it has to be. Think of this as a gift. Better than falling apart piece by piece, isn’t that right?

Is it? Maybe, with more time, you could figure something out, maybe if he took just a little more, a few of your years, you don’t need that much time, you could spare him that—

No. Hey. We. We had a good run, didn’t we? Just, remember me. Please.

He’s terrified, pulse rabbiting in his chest, fingers clutching yours as the scythe descends. And you feel it when the connection breaks, tension dissolving as he fades, the cruel hard core of him pulling free from your chest. Your hand is your hand again, grasping at nothing. He manages a smile, almost, shimmering through a film of tears. Hey, listen. I—

And then he’s gone, nothing more than motes of dust in the air, as you blink hard, trying to pull him back into your sight.

—-

Epilogue (the last thing inside the box was)

—-

You see him sometimes, a flash of cold eyes in the crowd or a particular way someone has of standing. You listen to the wind, and watch frost crawling up the windows in winter, and you miss him.

You return to the world, you smile and wave and show your teeth. It’s not a real smile, not quite, but you’ll get there. You always have.

You bake trout in parchment, and American biscuits, and you eat alone.

On a wintery afternoon you climb aboard a packed train, mercifully anonymous in the crowd. Your bare hand brushes against a stranger’s. You feel a spark, pins and needles, like a waking limb.

#henry cavill #august walker #my fic #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #Henry cavill fic #august walker fic #Henry cavill smut #august walker smut #august walker x henry cavill smut #august walker x henry cavill #mission: impossible fallout fic #mission: impossible smut

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Little Lamb

So I made a gift for @useeer based off his wonderful art that you can see here. Though I have only known him for like,,,3 days it is in my nature to make my friends gifts so here we are. Bone apple teet.

Reblogs > Likes

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader’s pronouns are never stated but calling them a ‘sweet boy’ is used, Reader also has a vulva but verbiage is Cock/dick/hole to describe bits and bobs, Bloodhound’s werewolf strap on makes a comeback as always, knotting, spreader bars, primal play, predator/prey, aaaand knife play.

Words: 2.3k

________________

Bloodhound was a soft lover.

Patient, kind, thoughtful, adoring- they never made you feel second best. They spoiled you in their own little ways, they were playful in their teases and how they could chase you playfully around and mock pin you. Leaving you squealing, smiling, and kicking as they playfully gnashed their teeth as if they planned to bite you.

They made you feel loved and domestic. Even when they went away on long trips to the games. You understood that it was their path, that they had a calling from their gods. That you would see them once the season ended and they could return home without paparazzi tailing them. You always watched their games, rooting for them from home. But otherwise you tended to your little cottage- perhaps old fashioned, but it is what they liked.

Whenever they could come home, they were always pent up. You never asked Bloodhound the obvious question of ‘do you masturbate when you’re away’ but you figured the answer was no. Considering how hungry they always were. It was like clockwork when they were home, if you were up to it of course. They were always polite even if they were breathy and near humping your leg, asking if you wanted it too.

The little things.

~Rest under the cut~

Now it’s been a week since they’d come home. You’re on edge waiting for it. Bloodhound kept teasing you all week knowing you were practically trained to be horny the minute they came home. You try and swallow it down, breathily replying when they ask you what’s wrong, “Nothing, Hound, nothing at all.” And they’d hum coyly, sliding a hand across your neck and press a kiss to your lips that left you wetter than you’d like to admit.

They were doing it on purpose. Sizing you up. Making you needy. It was working, but even then, you could see their patience almost snap sometimes. Especially when the other night they’d straddled your hips, kissing you deep and rough, marking your neck with their teeth and you’d begged. You’d begged prettier than you’d ever begged in your life, trying to press yourself up against them, whimpering, begging for any sort of friction.

“Be patient, my love, and I shall reward you.” They’d said against your lips, their own breath shaking with hushed restraint. You’d about sobbed, near desperately in tears by the time they licked into your mouth again for another taste.

You’d wished they’d break it, just take you- hell, you wished they’d let you at least touch them to quell your hunger. You wanted to taste their slick on your tongue, wanting to bruise their skin with your teeth and hear them whine-

However, you could be patient.

This time.

By the end of the week, you’re practically dripping at the sound of their voice. It’s a little embarrassing when they so much as ask what you’d like for dinner and you’re squishing your thighs together and trying to come up with an answer. You didn’t take yourself as that needy, but you suppose your body is trained, and you’re getting a little desperate.

But, that’s what they wanted.

Finally, you’re rewarded when they come up to you with a proposition.

It’s as if they waited for you to come downstairs. Watching you with hungry eyes the moment you got close. Their red curls were pulled up into a high, messy ponytail with a singular braid framing the right side of their face with a feather braided in at the end. Their outfit consisting of a black lace bralette, a leather jacket with fur lining the collar and cropped at about their navel, tight black leather pants and boots.

It had been alluring, a trap you suppose as you’d gone towards them to eagerly trace your hands along their exposed waist, but they’d hummed at you instead.

They’re backing you into a wall then, and you swallow hard at the action, immediately feeling small despite their petite stature. Their aura is always dominating as your back hits the wall and they spring on you like a predator. A switch blade in their hand making a distinctive ‘shnk’ sound before it’s pointed at your chin, a smirk to their lips as they watch your mouth part to shakily exhale as your eyes flicker to the shiny blade.

“My little lamb,” They coo out, their full lips gathering your attention briefly and watching their split pierced tongue slide over their lips. Shit. “I wish to chase you tonight. You are familiar with my little game, yes?” Their voice is practically a purr as the blade moves to tip your chin up, making you shamefully try to shut your thighs together. As if they could sense the action, their thigh pressed between yours and your lashes flutter.

“Y-yes-” You finally manage to get out. You knew very well. One of their favorite versions of foreplay and something that set your skin and heart alight. You were familiar with the burn in your lungs, how the backwoods you’d routinely run through could seem so big and terrifying in the nights.

“You know my rules and rewards?”

“Yes.” You repeat, feeling the point of their blade trace down your throat and making you swallow hard. It was simple rules, but the rewards were the highest of stakes: If you managed to hide or run from them successfully for an hour, you got whatever you wanted. And if they caught you? Anything they wanted. In the forest.

“Good,” They murmur, drawing their blade from you and making you realize how close their face is to yours. You strain the need to cup their cheek, eyes flickering down to their mouth as it pulled into a wolfish grin, baring their double set of sharp canines. “Now run.”

And you do. You take off out the front door the second they stop caging you, frantic to abuse the head start they’re offering you.

But, you know in the end who would win.

By the time you’re caught, you’ve managed to enter a clearing- which was your mistake thinking you could pause to take a breather. They’d managed to tackle you, wrestling your squirming body and at first you manage to escape. You’d cried out in joy like a deer who broke free from a trap, turned right back around to book it, only to have your ankle snagged and you tugged to the ground.

It’s a blur of mouths, teeth, and how deadly their eyes look in the night. You also remember a blade, trying not to squirm as they cut off your clothes or the sounds of the cloth shredding.

Now? Now you’re on all fours, a spreader bar keeping your thighs far apart. They’ve graciously taken off their jacket to fold under your head so your cheek isn’t pressed into the grass and dirt under you, your arms tied behind your back with rope they’d brought with the bar in a bag that is rested off to the side.

You currently have four fingers inside of your hole. Your cock twitches weakly at the feeling of their split tongue licking over it and occasionally trapping it between them. You sob out when you feel the telltale tightening in your abdomen as you cum, drooling slick into their hand and onto their tongue. The sound of Bloodhound moaning makes your cheeks burn as they lick up all you have to offer.

“You always taste so good, my prey.” They growl out behind you, making your hole contract weakly around their fingers. They twist them, hooking them inside of you and spreading them just a bit to test the resistance of you. When Bloodhound’s fingers pull out, you just about cry until they’re shushing you once more.

You’re wet and lubed up, stretched sloppy for whatever they have planned. But you could take a guess as to what it is when you feel the tapered head of their preferred cock choice brushing against your hole. It’s lubed up as well, and you know exactly which one it is. It’s bright red, themed after a werewolf. It’s seven inches long in total with a knot the size of their fist.

You whimper beneath them; Fingers flexing in your bonds as you hear them growl above you.

“Stay still, little lamb.” Bloodhound growls out when you begin to squirm. Their calloused hands roughly grabbing your hips, pulling your ass up to begin pushing inside. The first inch or two isn’t bad, but once it starts to get thicker and thicker, that’s when you begin to whimper. You’re stretched for the occasion, lubed up so there isn’t any pain, but oh the stretch is always such a tight fit.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when they start moving. Their thrusts are well timed and deep, the knot slapping against you but not penetrating right away. You sob and cry out beneath them, face feeling hot as your senses are surrounded by them. You hear them grunt behind you, tinging on a whine and you know that they way they’ve angled themself has the cock bouncing back against their clit.

You briefly smile at the thought, thinking about how wet they must be all because of you. You wonder faintly if they’d let you eat them out.

Well, if you’re coherent after this.

Bloodhound’s nails press into your hips, yanking you back against them now with an almost frantic need. It takes a few times, your moans spilling out of you in harsh little whines to match their growls, but they fit the knot inside of you. It pops into you, spreading you wide and making your hips jerk, but both the bar and Bloodhound’s grip keep you afloat.

They don’t even do you the courtesy of keeping it inside and reaching around to jerk you off like they normally do. Instead, Bloodhound chuckles lowly, breathless as they pull it right back out of you just to hear you cry out and whine in dismay.

“I may have you however I please, my love,” They remind you with a low growl echoing in their voice. “You are mine to do with as a I wish. Are you not?”

But before you can reply, they pop the knot back into you again, forcing you wide again and making you scream. “Ah, there you are, bráð mitt. Let me hear you.”

Again and again they force the knot into you. Never giving you a break from the constant stretch until you get close. You’ve got tears running down your cheeks, eyes rolling into the back of your head and your mouth forming words but nothing coming out.

And then they wrap a hand around your throat, pulling you up and onto your knees and against their chest. Bloodhound’s hand is loose around your neck, holding you close to their body and making your own body tremble as they fuck into you. Bloodhound’s other hand comes down, finally giving you mercy of jerking off your engorged, little cock. You sob out, your bound hands splaying across their abdomen behind you and feeling the flex of their muscles there with each thrust.

Their split tongue licks up your neck, surely tasting your sweat before they nip at your ear and snarl in your ear, “Cum for me, my sweet boy. Let your god hear you.”

And you do. Just at the same time they must press the syringe of the cum tube because you can feel one final slam into you to knot you, and the feeling of the sticky cum lube filling you. You’re near about frantic when you cum, your cries an echo off each other until their hand around your throat comes to grab your chin and forcing two fingers into your mouth to press down your tongue. It forces your throat open, each cry partially muffled yet still louder than before.

You’re pretty sure you black out.

By the time you come back to life, you find yourself clothed and cleaned. You’re in bed, feeling a hand stroking your hair and massaging your scalp down to your nape. You moan softly, shifting your head to roll a bit to the side and finding yourself with your head in their lap.

Bloodhound looks beautiful at this angle. Their hair is let down, their other hand holding a book that they seem invested in. Their round glasses rest on their nose, but they blink twice when they hear your noise, looking down at you and a fond smile spreading across their face. “Are you quite alright, my love? I was not too harsh on you, was I?”

Their hand moves from your hair, stroking over your cheekbone with the backs of their two knuckles. You can’t help but smile at their worry, reaching up to pull their hand to your face so you may kiss their palm. You note how their cheeks flush at the action and count yourself lucky for such a cute partner.

“Nah,” You get out, your voice hoarse even after you clear your throat. “C’mon, Hound, you’ve done much worse than that. Didn’t even cut me.”

“Ah, but I did bruise you.” They tease, tracing a hand down to one of the various bite marks on your neck with fondness. “Though it appears that when you are needy you can take,” They let their hand trace down your frame then, making your breath hitch as it brushes down your stomach, their fingers teasing your waistband with a coy smirk playing on their lips. “,Much more than we thought.”

Your cheeks flush red, groaning as your head falls back against their lap, burying your face into their thigh. “Don’t get me started again, babe, come on!”

“I would never dream of it, my love.”

Liar, you think, as you sneakily grab a pillow and fling it at their face just to hear them burst into laughter as you tackle them.

You could only hope you made good prey.

#Bloodhound #Bloodhound x reader #apex legends #apex lemons #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

Text

A Mysterious Bundle

Summary: Louis and Marlon return from a quest with a mysterious acquisition.

Word Count: 5833

Read on AO3:

“Maisy Mason, you get your ass down from that rigging right now!” Clementine scowled up at her eldest child, her hand on her hip.

Maisy peered down from amongst the ropes, smiling innocently. “What is it, Mama?”

Did you or did you not fill Zachariah’s hammock with potato peels last night?”

“Uncle Omar said to get rid of them-”

“Not in a hammock he didn’t! Now you get down here right this instant!”

Maisy was loath to do so but soon scurried down, little whimpers and sobs escaping her lips as she approached her mother.

“No crocodile tears, today. You know that won’t work with me like it does with your father. Now hold on to my other pant leg while I decide what to do with you,”

Maisy obliged, ignoring the curious gaze of her two year old brother Lee Kenny as he clung to his mother’s right pant leg for support in standing up.

Clementine’s eyes scanned the ship, looking for some task to assign her daughter as punishment. Over by the cartography room, Aasim was still picking potato peels off his five year old son’s back. Ruby was steering the ship, her daughter Savannah sleeping peacefully in the sling on her back and Willy was up in the crows nest with Allison. Violet and Prisha were heading off somewhere hand in hand. Clementine called out. “Vi, where you two heading?”

Violet turned around. “Nowhere really. Just scraping barnacles off the side of Ol’ Kickass.”

Perfect. “I have a volunteer who’ll join you!”

“Nooooo, Mom, anything but that!” Maisy begged, looking up at her mother with pleading eyes. “Barnacle duty is soooo boring!”

“That’s why it’s your punishment. Now scoot!” Clementine nudged her daughter forward and Maisy trudged off in dejection, walking beneath Violet and Prisha’s joined hands to the edge of the ship.

“Mama?” Lee Kenny wiggled round, tugging at Clementine’s pant leg.

“What is it, baby?”

“Poopoo,”

Clementine sighed and picked her son up. Her peg leg clacked against the wooden planks of the ship as she carried him over toward the head. Potty training was a process, especially at sea. Eventually Lee Kenny would be able to go on his own though and she’d be able to say goodbye to the poopy diapers and soiled pants stage of her life. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

Once Lee Kenny was done on the potty, Clementine decided to take a break from his walking practice and opted to carry her son on her hip, humming a soft tune to him as she looked out at the open sea. She’d expect Louis and Marlon home by now. They’d said something about a potential bounty and left early this morning. Surely if there was anything to find they would have succeeded by now. Clementine was about to give up her search when she heard a sharp whistle overhead.

“The captain and first mate off the port bow!” Willy declared, his spyglass pointed to the south. Clementine looked off in the same direction, squinting. She could only make out a speck, but that must be them. Clementine hurried over to the entrance below decks. “Sophie! Louis and Marlon are almost back!”

A clattering could be heard from the sleeping quarters before Sophie shot out, her son Raylan barreling underfoot and her daughter Marley on her shoulders. Sophie emerged above decks with a joyous laugh. “Finally!” I was going stir crazy on kiddo duty,” Her hair stuck out at odd angles, filled with all sort of ribbons and knickknacks Marley had decided to decorate it with.

“Dad’s back!” Raylan exclaimed, racing over to watch his return.

“Not so close to the edge, Raylan! Remember what happened last time!” Sophie warned. She and Clementine shared a sympathetic, frazzled glance before walking over to join him.

Eventually the boat arrived. As soon as Marlon reached the deck he swept his wife and children up in a hug, pressing kisses to all their faces and chuckling as his children peppered him with questions. Rosie and Sophie’s monkey Eight who’d tagged along on the adventure as well, were right behind him. Rosie slobbered all over Raylan’s face in greeting then got on her hind legs in attempt to reach Marley who reached down towards her with a laugh. Eight scrambled off of Rosie’s back and climbed up Sophie’s leg till he reached Marley and could give the toddler a hug.

Louis was a bit slower in his climb. He seemed to be holding some sort of parcel to his chest carefully as though he feared he would break it. As he emerged on deck, he smiled warmly over at his wife and son. “We’re back! Did you miss us?”

“Daddyyyy!” Lee Kenny wriggled in his mother’s arms, signaling he wanted down. As soon as his feet hit the floor he waddled over as fast as he could to his father, clinging happily to his pant leg.

Louis beamed down at his son. “Look who’s gotten so good at walking! Great job, kiddo!”

“Is that the bounty?” Clementine asked, nodding to the bundle Louis held.

“Not quite. The bounty turned out to be a no go but we found something else that we had to bring back with us,” The look in Louis’ eyes was uncertain but hopeful.

Clementine raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is that?”

Louis lowered the bundle in his arms enough so Clementine could see what lay inside. There slept a baby with dark brown skin and a full head of hair.

Clementine looked up in shock. “Whose baby is this?”

“Well, considering that she had nobody when we found her, I guess she’s ours,”

“She?”

“Her name is Juliet,” Louis smiled down at the baby in his arms, clearly already smitten.

“Back up. Tell me exactly what happened that led to you bringing a baby back onboard. Start from the beginning,”

Louis and Marlon shared a look. Louis cleared his throat then began. “Well, I guess you could say it all started this morning when we headed out for that bounty mission off the coast of Bluff’s Point…”

---

“So what exactly did the description of the quest say again?” Marlon asked as he rowed out toward Crab Isle.

Louis paused his rowing to fish the pamphlet out of his pocket. “Wanted: hunters to acquire crab meat from the famous Gurlinder crabs of Crab Isle. Will pay top dollar for the real deal,”

“So it’s an exotic meal quest. We’ve done those before. I wonder what makes the crabs so expensive,”

“Rarity probably,” Louis shrugged. “It’s not the most exciting quest we’ve ever taken on, but with so many mouths to feed on Ol’ Kickass we don’t have the luxury to be picky anymore. Besides, whatever crabs we don’t sell we can cook up ourselves,”

“How do we know we’re grabbing a Gurlinder crab and not just a regular crab?”

Louis squinted. “Well, according to the description, Gurlinder crabs have yellow top halves, red bottom halves and blue arms. That sounds pretty distinctive to me,”

Rosie barked in agreement. Louis grinned and reached out to give her some pats before rejoining the rowing effort. Eight was asleep upon Marlon’s shoulder, his tail curled against the pirate’s chest. Clearly the monkey had deemed the voyage too boring and was waiting for their arrival.

“We getting close?” Marlon asked, glancing behind him.

“Yep! The island’s finally in sight,” Louis looked toward the island, its heavy forests the only visible thing at the moment. “I’d say another half hour of rowing and we’ll get there,”

Once they had reached the island and successfully pulled the rowboat ashore, the tiny crew set out in search of the famed crabs. Rosie got to work at once, her nose to the ground as she started the hunt. Eight found some crabs almost immediately but they weren’t the right ones; the monkey chased the tiny hermit crabs to and fro along the shore, eager to grasp their shiny shells. Louis and Marlon kept their eyes peeled but were having no luck.

“Think we have to dig for them?” Marlon stuck the toe of his boot in the sand, overturning a small pile.

“Hmmm, the quest flyer doesn’t have anything on the crabs’ habitat or how to locate them,” Louis squinted as if the secret was hidden somewhere between the lines on the page. “You’d think the people that post these would give a bit more detail,”

“Eh, rich folk never think of those things. They just pay the servants to figure details out,” Marlon glanced Louis’ way. “Except for you, of course,”

“A reformed rich boy,” Louis winked. His eyes widened though as they flitted across the sand. “Woah, did you see that? I think it was one of them!”

“Where?” Marlon spun around, doing a 360 in search of the crab.

“Right over that dune. It disappeared behind it and- there it is again! It’s huge!”

The crab was indeed massive, the size of a dinner platter. The captain and his first mate ran after it, Rosie and Eight in tow.

“That must be why they’re so valuable – the size!” Marlon exclaimed as they ran. “A crab that big could feed a whole family!”

“Imagine cracking into one of its claws! It’d be like eating a whole leg of lamb!” Louis’ breath came in little puffs as he sprinted across the beach to claim their prize. “Shit, I think it spotted us! You take right, I’ll take left. We’ll cut it off before it reaches the woods!”

Marlon nodded and followed suit. The pair split off, each hoping to capture the crab that was making a beeline toward the dense forest. It would be a close call, but they could make it. The two men circled back towards each other, ready to meet in the middle to nab the crab.

Just as they were almost upon it though, a deep rumble issued from the forest. The sand on the beach shifted as the ground shook and both men froze, leaving the crab to run off into the woods unimpeded. Both men shared a look.

“What the hell was that?” Marlon asked.

Before he could speak further, they had their answer. A massive claw shot out from between the branches of the trees, followed by a leg that matched the size of the trunks around it. A second later, beady eyes could be seen atop the massive disk that formed the body. This was it: a true Gurlinder crab.

“What the shit,” Louis breathed, frozen in fear. Then his survival instincts kicked in. “What the shit!” Both pirates turned tail and sprinted back towards the boat. Rosie ran ahead of them, barking like crazy while Eight finally looked up from his pursuit of the hermit crabs and joined the crew in running for their lives. The rowboat was all the way on the other end of the beach. Would they make it?

They would not. The giant crab came barreling onto the beach, blocking their way and snapping its claws in the air menacingly. Louis and Marlon stopped dead in their tracks, sharing a look. Their swords would have little to no effect against the crab’s bony exterior. Even Marlon’s gun might not be enough and they couldn’t risk the sound drawing in more of these behemoths. Their only choices were to run, but would they go forward or back?

“We gotta reach the boat!” Marlon declared before surging forward. His valiant effort was met with immediate retaliation. The crab lowered its massive claw, reaching out towards the blond pirate who barely dove to the ground in time.

“Marlon!” Louis leapt forward to help his friend to his feet.

At this point the crab seemed truly pissed. Lifting its leg, it brought it down as though intending to impale to pirates. Both men rolled out of the way just in time. Moving forward wasn’t an option after all. They’d have to seek shelter. Running along the shoreline, their eyes searched for any sort of hiding place.

“Do we risk the woods?” Louis asked breathlessly, running as fast as he could.

“And risk coming across more of these things?” Marlon shook his head. “We need something else!” He turned his head to look out at the ocean. Nothing at all. All that was left was the beach, but that only held sand. At the end of the shore though, by the reef… “There!” Marlon pointed to a rock formation by the water. “The crevice between those two rocks – it can’t reach us there!”

The crab was gaining on them. They had to hurry. Giving it their all, Marlon and Louis sprinted toward the rocks. Rosie reached them first, Eight clinging to her back. She barked worriedly, waiting for them to catch up. The pair didn’t even slow down as they reached the rocks. Marlon shot through the opening first, followed by Rosie and Eight and Louis right behind. Louis let out a yelp as he ran, tumbling and rolling in the sand right as he cleared the crevice. They all looked back to see the crab’s claw jammed in the crevice, still trying its best to reach them.

“It jabbed my ass,” Louis whimpered, his face still in the sand. Marlon walked over and helped his friend to his feet. They took a moment to look at the crab’s struggle and reassure themselves that it couldn’t break through. They were safe… for now. Turning round, they began to make their way down the new stretch of beach that was open to them.

“So what now?” Marlon sighed, looking out to the sea. “If we’re not back in the next few hours, everybody’s gonna panic,”

“Then we find another way home. We’ll comb the beach for supplies and if that doesn’t work, we’ll face the forest. Lash a raft together from logs or something,”

“And what will we fell trees with? My cutlass? Your rapier?”

“Maybe we can find fallen logs,” Louis offered. His face fell almost immediately though. “We’ll figure something out. Let’s just see what we come across,”

The island was massive. After twenty minutes of walking, the group had only circled the first bend. There were no fallen logs or other building materials in sight upon the beach. They’d soon have to turn to the forest and risk facing more crabs. That was when Louis spotted something. “Hey, you see that or am I just crazy?”

Marlon glanced over and his face immediately brightened. “Holy shit, it’s a boat!” A pale blue rowboat lay nestled upon the edge of the water, moored on a sand dune. They sprinted toward it only for their hearts to almost immediately falter. The boat was wrecked. The back half had been totally decimated, pieces torn and crushed irreparably. This was more than a patch job could fix. Perhaps it was another Gurlinder crab’s doing. Marlon still examined the exterior of the boat, hoping against hope that the boat was somehow salvageable. Meanwhile Louis began searching inside the boat for usable supplies. Rosie hopped inside, sniffing everything thoroughly. There didn’t seem to be much. A crumpled sail that was completely ruined lay in tattered pieces across the base of the boat. Piles of seaweed and sand had worked their way in with the rising tide. This ship looked to be recently abandoned. Or perhaps it had washed upon shore, its passengers, lost to the sea.

Rosie sniffed at one particular part of the sail with interest. Coming over, Louis pulled back the fabric to reveal a lumpy blanket underneath. Perhaps there was food there? Louis leaned forward to examine the blanket more closely and let out a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Marlon asked, his hand immediately upon his saber.

Louis took the blanket in his arms and stared at it in awe. Gently, he pushed back a corner to reveal what lay inside: a baby. Louis cautiously pressed a hand to its forehead. “Still alive, just sleeping,”

Marlon came over to examine the baby. “How long has it been alone? We need to get it food, water at least!”

“The flask by my hip. Open it,”

“Lou, alcohol is not gonna do this baby any-”

“It’s full of water, OK? I just pretend there’s alcohol in there to look tough!”

Marlon gave Louis a look that told him he would take that secret to his grave then got the flask out and held it to the baby’s lips. Pushing them open just slightly, he let the water spill slowly into the baby’s mouth.

The infant woke immediately, letting out a strained cry. Louis laid the babe over his shoulder, patting its back softly. “Hey, hey. It’s ok. We’re here. You’re gonna be ok,”

Marlon looked round for any other signs of life. Nothing. Whoever the baby’s parents or guardians were, they had likely perished at sea. No one would leave a child unguarded in the open like this. As Louis bounced the baby and tried to calm it, he circled the boat, looking for anything that might tell them where it had come from. There was nothing more except the name of the boat painted in pink, faded lettering. Juliet.

Louis bounced the baby for a few seconds longer before the smell hit him, one that had been buried deep within the folds of the blanket. “Marlon, see if you can find a clean portion of that sail and cut it off. We’re gonna need to do a diaper change,”

A few minutes later with the use of a length of weathered sail and some leaves scavenged at the outskirts of the forest for cleanup, the baby had a new diaper. Louis picked up the baby once more, wrapping the blanket round its tiny arms and legs. “We should name her Juliet,”

“Juliet? After the boat? What about finding her parents or relatives?” Marlon looked at his friend with concern.

“We’re leagues off from the coast, at least a hundred miles from any port or town. Whatever family she had in that boat is gone. Maybe it’s strange to name her after the boat we found her in, but it’s the only part of her past we know,” Louis watched the baby with care, stroking a damp lock away from her forehead,”

“Well, if we want her past to have a future to it, we’ll need to find a way to get off this island. And Juliet’s a no go,”

“Back to our boat then?” Louis met Marlon’s eyes. “Do we have any other choice?”

“No. I guess we don’t,”

“Then we head back,”

The two men walked side by side, Rosie to Marlon’s right and Eight scampering along the shore to Louis’ left playing with leaves and other odds and ends. Juliet still cried intermittently, wriggling within Louis’ arms. Most of the water he offered her got spit up on her dress but at least a few drops got in so Louis kept trying. The forest was silent, eerily so. Perhaps the Gurlinder crab they’d run into had been one of the last of its kind. They could only pray that was the case.

“What’s Clem going to think when you bring a baby home?” Marlon asked, glancing over at Louis.

Louis was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “I don’t know. It feels the same as when we found her and AJ though: stranded, helpless. If Clem was here instead of me, I figure she’d do the same thing. That’s what Ericson Pirates have always done: taken in the outcasts and give them a home,”

“So you’re planning to keep her then?”

Louis looked down at the baby in his arms. Juliet had settled a bit and was gnawing hungrily on his finger. “I can’t make that decision without Clem. But I can’t help feeling like we were meant to find her. Maisy’s been asking for a little sister, y’know,”

“Clem laughed when she said that,”

“True… but can anyone say no to a face like this?” Louis held out Juliet who had started to happily gurgle as she clung to his finger.

Marlon smiled down. “Hell, if Clem feels overwhelmed, Soph and I can take a turn with her. Ruby loves babies too. Everyone will pitch in,”

“Just like we have for all of the kids,” Louis beamed down at Juliet, trying to get her to smile. “You hear that, Juliet? You’re gonna have a whole pirate family!”

As they began to round the corner of the beach, the forest ceased to be silent. They could hear rumblings from deep within as well as noises ahead. Both men drew their swords.

“It sounds like a lot of them,” Marlon noted, his eyes scanning the treeline.

“We couldn’t even handle one,”

“Then we’ll have to hope we can sneak around them,” As they rounded the corner, Marlon and Louis were prepared for the worst.

It was even worse than they imagined. The beach that only 20 minutes ago was completely clear was now crawling with Gurlinder crabs. The massive beasts along the sand, intermingling and waving their claws at each other. There had to be dozens of them.

“What the shit is going on?” Louis whispered. He tucked his coat further around Juliet protectively.

“Mating season? That’s the only reason I can think of,” Marlon watched the crabs cautiously. “If that’s the case, they’ll be way more focused on each other than us. That first one was probably pissed we messed with a baby crab. If we leave them alone, maybe they won’t even notice us,”

“That’s all we can hope for. Keep Rosie and Eight close,”

They headed out in a line, Marlon leading the way with Rosie behind him and Eight on her back. Louis took up the rear, rocking Juliet softly in hopes that she would stay quiet till they reached safety. Skirting the treeline, they walked along the edge of the beach, trying to keep out of the crabs’ way. Marlon’s hunch seemed to be right. The crabs shifted from side to side, waving their claws in rhythmic motions at each other. They must be trying to attract mates.

Their progress was going as smoothly as could be expected. Occasionally they’d have to freeze and wait for a crab to lumber on by or scurry out the way as a new crab exited the forest. Overall though, the Gurlinder crabs seemed utterly unaware of them, focused entirely on their courtship dances. Marlon felt himself breathing a sigh of relief. Rosie was staying nearby to protect the baby and Eight was happily chewing on the gold ducat Marlon had given. Juliet seemed to have fallen asleep as well. They just needed a few more minutes to reach the crevice and they’d be in the clear.

All of a sudden, Marlon felt a pressure from behind. Before he could turn round, he was yanked into the air by his collar. “Woahhh, shit!”

“Marlon!” Louis watched in horror as his best friend was lifted up on the end of a Gurlinder crab’s claw. Drawing his sword, Louis ran forward and began to whack the nearest leg of the creature. “Give him back! Drop him!” Rosie joined in the struggle, biting angrily at the crab leg again and again while Eight screamed in outrage and threw pebbles. The crab hardly seemed to notice them, instead drawing Marlon closer to its beady eyes and gazing at him in curiosity.

Marlon wriggled wildly, brandishing his cutlass in an effort to scare the beast off. “Fuck, I think it wants to eat me!”

“Maybe it’s just mistaken you for another crab!” Louis offered, trying to jab his sword into the joints of the beast to no avail. “After all, you’re yellow on top just like them!”

“You mean my hair?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“So then it wants to mate with me?!” Marlon looked at the crab with fear, struggling even more to escape.

“Or maybe it thinks you’re a baby cause you’re so tiny!”

“Nu uh, fuck this!” Sheathing his scabbard, Marlon pulled out a dagger. Cutting through the collar of his shirt, he sawed at the material till it snapped and sent him plummeting to the ground where he tucked and rolled with a grunt before rising to find the crab still staring at him. It was not pleased to see him go. Taking steps forward, the crab began to pursue Marlon, almost crushing its attackers underfoot in the process. Letting out a frightened cry, Marlon ran away.

“Keep aiming for the rocks, Marlon!” Louis shouted, sprinting behind the pursuing crab. Juliet had been awakened by all the commotion and started to cry again, causing Rosie to bark in concern. All the noise drew the attention of the other crabs, who began to move toward them, curious as to what was going on. Louis swore under his breath, barely skirting a curious claw that was reaching his way. “Go between their legs, Mar! It can’t follow you there!”

Everything was chaos. Marlon frantically weaved between the enormous deadly legs of others crabs in an attempt to escape his pursuer but nothing seemed to work. The Gurlinder crab was still only seconds behind him. Meanwhile Louis tried to keep up with a baby in tow and make sure Rosie and Eight didn’t get caught up in fighting all the crabs that came their way. At one point when it looked as thought Eight was about to start climbing one of the legs Louis scooped the monkey up his hat and kept running with the furry stowaway tucked beneath his right arm, the baby cradled in his left.

Finally, the crevice was only a few yards away. Marlon dove for it headfirst, narrowly avoiding being nabbed once more by his captor’s claw. Letting out a frantic swear, Louis slid underneath the crab as it blocked the passageway, kicking up sand and seaweed as he scrambled after his friend. Moments later, all five members of the castaway crew emerged safely onto the other side of the beach, a beach that was still as bare as they had first found it.

“Thank fuck!” Louis gasped, taking a moment to catch his breath before removing Juliet from the folds of his coat and working to comfort her. Marlon knelt down, examining Rosie and Eight to make sure they hadn’t received any serious injuries. Once it was clear that everyone was alright, they continued to move forward, heading for their abandoned boat.

“We’re almost home,” Marlon said with a smile as he brushed the sand out of his hair.

“Yep! Almost back and no worse for the wear! Isn’t that right, Juliet?” Louis cooed at the baby in his arms who seemed entranced by the way his dreads swayed as he walked.

“Now all that’s left is to find the boat and… shit,” Marlon froze in his tracks. A second later he was running forward. “Shit shit shit!”

Louis soon saw what the issue was. The first Gurlinder crab they’d run into hadn’t left this beach after all. Instead it had made its way over to their rowboat and was now poking at it with interest. If they lost that boat, they were trapped. Louis sprinted afterwards, humming a shanty under his breath in an effort to keep Juliet calm. “There once was a ship that put to sea, the name of the ship was the Billy of Tea…”

They were still a great distance from the boat. The giant crab snapped at the edges of the boat with interest, drawing it out of the sand and up into its claws.

“Hey asshat, that’s not yours!” Marlon shouted angrily, his ponytail blowing in the wind as he ran. Louis tucked Juliet back into his coat, shielding her ears from the language. As they reached the crab, they all ran to the opposite side of the rowboat and grabbed onto the end of it. They wouldn’t be able to defeat the crab. They’d have to wrestle the boat from her grasp and get out to the sea before she could give chase. Marlon pulled with all his might, Louis using his spare arm to try to aid in the struggle.

The crab was unimpressed by their show of force. It glanced down at them with annoyance before lifting the boat higher. Both men gasped as they were lifted off of their feet. Rosie was barking like mad below them, trying again and again to bite through the crab’s outer armor and save her fellow pirates, but it was no use. Eight meanwhile had got ahold of one of the ropes dangling from the rowboat and climbed inside the boat to scold the crab face to face.

“You fucker! Give us back our boat!” Marlon growled. Drawing out his pistol, he fired a shot straight at the crab. The bullet bounced off like it was nothing.

“The eyes! Aim for the eyes!” Louis cried, his focus entirely on not dropping Juliet while they were shaked to and fro.

Dropping back to the ground, Marlon pulled a new bullet from his pouch and began reloading his gun. He couldn’t afford to miss again. Aiming the newly reloaded flintlock, he closed one eye, hoping his aim would be true.

A second before he fired though, the Gurlinder crab suddenly changed its mind. Opening its claws, it suddenly dropped the rowboat to the ground. Louis fell hard to the ground, his legs crumbling beneath him as he fell on his back in an effort to protect Juliet. Immediately he struggled to his feet though, letting out a pained moan as he and Marlon both leapt into the boat and pushed it down to the water. Rosie was right beside them, leaping into the boat beside Eight who shook his fists threateningly at the retreating crab.

“Are you hurt? Is Juliet okay?” Marlon asked as he got the oars sorted and began paddling out to sea.

“She’s alright, just shaken is all,” Louis rocked her back and forth, trying to quiet her cries. “Do you need me to row? I could try setting Juliet beside me or-”

“I’ll manage! You focus on her!” Marlon put all of his strength into rowing the boat out to the open sea.

Louis glanced behind them. “Why do you think it gave up? It was totally whopping our asses back there,”

“Beats me. Good riddance,”

“It just keeps heading toward the forest. Maybe it went to look for its baby? Wait…” Louis gasped. “There’s another crab!”

Sure enough, another crab had emerged from the forest and joined the first in a courtship dance. It looked as though the pirates’ enemy wasn’t the only crab to get lost on its way to the mating grounds.

“Awww, they’re sort of cute together!” Louis smiled at the joint dance.

“From a distance maybe. We’re never going back there again,” Marlon grumbled, putting extra force into his strokes.

“I mean, at the end of the day I guess the crabs were just trying to live their lives. Look at them, it’s like they’re kissing! Oh, wait, now they’re-” Louis flushed, quickly looking away and shielding Juliet’s eyes. “Yep, definitely not a place to visit again,”

“I can go for a bit longer then I’ll need a break. You willing to give me a turn holding the baby?”

“Of course! Uncle Marlon’s gonna take a turn holding you, ok, Juliet?” Louis smiled down at the baby who looked quite tired from all of the recent excitement. “You just rest. We’ll be home soon,”

---

“…And that’s the story of how we found Juliet!” Louis finished with a grin.

The rest of the Ericson Pirates who had all gathered round to hear the tale all began talking at once. The noise woke Juliet who started crying again, her wail broken and frail. Immediately Clementine stepped forward, gently taking her from Louis and rocking her in her arms. “She needs another diaper change, one with a real diaper this time. Also she must be starving. Ruby, are the supplies still in the crate under your hammock?”

“That’s right,” Ruby responded, stepping forward and taking Lee Kenny’s hand. “Y’all go ahead, we have things covered up here,”

While the others took care of things above deck, Clementine and Louis headed below deck to the sleeping quarters. Clementine sat down in the nearest hammock, directing Louis to grab a fresh diaper and some powdered milk from Ruby’s trunk. Once Louis returned with the needed supplies, the two worked together to change Juliet, laying her in Clementine’s lap while Louis kept her head stable and tried to keep her arms and legs out of the soupy mess that was her makeshift sail diaper.

“There was so family round there at all?” Clementine asked, her eyes focus on her work.

Louis shook his head. “None at all. It looked to have been abandoned for a few days. I’m surprised the boat made it to shore or even stayed there at all. Another day and it may have washed back out to sea,”

“She’s so skinny,” The concern in Clementine’s voice was clear. Working quickly, she hummed a little tune to the baby as she changed her, the same shanty Louis had sung back on the island. Soon the baby was changed and the impromptu messy diaper set aside. Clementine readjusted her grip on Juliet, nestling her in her arms. “The last bottle broke awhile back. Do you have your flask with you?”

“Well, it’s-”

“I know it’s water, Lou. I swiped it a while back to get a drink. Not surprised, just disappointed there wasn’t anything stronger around,”

Louis grinned knowingly up at his wife. “I’ll treat you to whatever your heart desires at the next tavern we visit,”

“I’m holding you to that. Now pour a bit of the powder into the flask and shake it up,”

Louis followed Clementine’s directions, turning the remaining water into a frothy white liquid. Clementine took the flask and raised it to the baby’s lips. This time Juliet drank more eagerly, gulping down the milk substitute noisily.

“We’ll need to stop in the nearest port town and get some more powdered milk and supplies. We weren’t expecting a baby again anytime soon,”

Louis listened for anger or annoyance in his wife’s words but there wasn’t any; she was only stating facts. Looking up at her, he could see the same fondness in her eyes as she looked down at Juliet that he had felt when he first held her.

Clementine caught him looking and a soft smile crossed her lips. “She’s beautiful,”

“She certainly is. The best bounty we’ve ever come across,”

The room was quiet now, the only sounds being the soft creaking of the ship and Juliet as she eagerly suckled the flask. Louis and Clementine watched her in silence, lost in the simple beauty of the moment. They both knew what was yet unspoken. They had found another daughter to call their own.

#twdg #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg marlon #twdg sophie #twdg prisha #twdg violet #twdg maisy #twdg lee kenny #twdg juliet #twdg rosie #twdg eight #louis marlon brotp #clouis #twdg marlie #twdg privet

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bertinellisbow · 5 years ago

Text

Protection [Part One]

[Roman Sionis x F!Reader x Victor Zsasz]

Description: Reader’s family is slaughtered, leaving her willing to do anything for protection from Gotham’s worst. Even if that mean being protected by Gotham’s worst.

Word Count: 4,061 words of pure filth.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, DUBCON!, Fingering, virginity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Roman being... worryingly nice. Porn without much plot.

A/N: Just watched BOP and Roman and Victor are my loves... Part one is more Roman x Reader, and part two will be more of both. Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing for these two, please go easy on me. As always, let me know if anything else needs tagged!

Desperation had taken over, you were wlling to do anything for protection at this point. You stood in front of Roman, shaking, tears brimming your eyes. He sat in front of you with Victor at his left side and Dinah at his right. Victor had been eyeing you up the whole time and Dinah kept giving you this sympathetic look, worry written all over her. She knew something you didn’t.

“You’re willing to do anything?”

“Anything, Mr. Sionis.”

Dinah flinched at that.

“Little bird,” Roman looked to Dinah, pausing for a moment.

Your eyes left Roman and you looked towards Victor, who was sizing you up. His eyes burned your skin. He was ready to pounce, you weren’t sure he wanted to kill you or fuck you. You almost hoped it was the former. Later, you would have wished it was the former.

“Please give us some time to think about this,” Roman shooed Dinah away, “Victor and I have some talking to do.”

Dinah nodded, not saying a word, her eyes never leaving you. Dinah slowly walked by you and mouthed ‘I’m so sorry’. Your stomach turned. The weight of everything was hitting, and your thoughts were running rampant.

You had just lost your family and everything was turning to shit. You stood in front of Gotham’s newest Godfather, offering yourself, like a lamb to slaughter. But you knew he could protect you. Protect you from every horrible villain coming after you.

“So,” Roman laced his finger together, “You didn’t inherit your family’s abilities.”

You shook your head, your heart into your throat. You thought about lying, but you knew Roman would want to see your abilities.

“Well, you really of no real use to me...”

Panic set in. You were scrambling for words, “Please, Mr.Sionis, I can’t- I’ll do absolutely anything for your protection.”

Victor shifted, his eyes never leaving you as Roman turned his head to him. He was really looking like he wanted to use that knife on you.

“Okay... I have a proposition. If you’re up for it, of course. If not, well, Victor will be taking care of you.”

You shut your eyes tightly, tears slowly falling down your face.

“It’s something simple, really.” Roman smirked, “All you need to do is fuck us.”

Victor clenched the knife in his hand and his eyes widened. His lips curled into a gruesome smile as he waited for your answer.

“Mr. Sionis-”

“You did say ‘anything’ dear...” Roman leaned over, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“I did, and I meant it, but... Both of you? I mean, you really don’t look like the sharing type...”

“I’m a man full of surprises, now, would you like Victor or me to do the honors of being first?”

You couldn’t answer, there was a lump in your throat. You had almost expected Roman to want to fuck you, but both of them? Your mind hadn’t touched that thought. You shook your head, not knowing how to answer.

“Fine, I’ll pick. Victor, fuck her brains out. I’ll be here, watching. Waiting.”

Roman smiled at you. He didn’t seem like the voyeuristic type... he really was full of surprises.

Victor stalked towards you and the thought of running briefly crossed your mind. You shifted your weight, your bare feet cold against the tile. You took a step back as Victor closed in on you and your heart pounded against your ribcage.

“Don’t run, little lamb, or do. It’ll really get Victor riled up.”

You inhaled sharply and your jaw clenched once Victor was within arms reach. Your eyes moved from victor and to over his shoulder, back towards Roman. The man was rubbing himself through his pants, waiting for the action to start.

Victor bought your attention back to him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Too tightly.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” Victor whispered. All you could do was nod. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

“Do something bad, and you will be punished.” Roman muffled a moan from his chair.

“And, I’m very good at punishments.” Victor gripped your hips even tighter, if that was somehow possible.

“Get this show on the road. Fuck her, or I’ll kick your ass out and fuck her myself!”

“Hey!” Victor turned his head towards Roman, “Give me a minute, fuck.”

Victor turned back towards you and before you could blink up at him, his mouth was connected to your neck. His lips were rough against your soft skin. HIs hands pulled you closer to his body, pulling you into him. You could feel his hard on through his pants and you let out a strangled whine. He set your skin on fire and stomach twisted inside of you. You wanted to hate every minute of it, but your body wouldn’t let you.

“Have you ever fucked before, little lamb?” Roman asked, palming at himself.

“I-” You let out a loud gasp as Victor bit your neck, “No...”

You could feel Roman’s eyes burning into you, but you couldn’t look at him. Everything was becoming too much for you. Roman proding you, watching you, Victor biting at you skin, rather harshly, his hands most definitely leaving bruises on your skin. While, earlier, your mind was running a mile a minute, your head was empty now. If this was causing you to feel too much, you didn’t want to think what it would be like actually laying under one of those men.

“Get her ready for me Victor-”

“What?” Victor’s teeth were removed from your skin, and he stopped everything to turn and glare at Roman.

Roman looked at you like he was ready to defile you, as if you were some pure little girl he was going to absolutely conquer. He was going to take your ‘purity’ away.

“You’re not going to be her fucking first!” Roman shouted.

Victor looked like he was biting his tongue. “Whatever...”

Victor turned his attention back to you and looked down at you, like a predator that had just caught its prey. “So, I can do anything?”

“Whatever the fuck you wanna do as long as you leave her pussy for me.”

Victor’s lips pressed to yours and his hands wandered to your ass. He gave a harsh squeeze and you let out an involuntary moan. “Oh god!”

Victor’s tongue slipped into your mouth and darted around taking in as much as he could before Roman inevitably took over. Victor easily guided you towards the wall and pressed you against it. One of his legs pressed in between yours, your bloody dress rolling up slightly.

“God,” Victor lifted one of your legs and pressed his thigh harder against your pussy, “You taste so good.”

Your body seemed to disconnect from your mind and you began to grind against his thigh. Your brain was screaming for you to stop, but your pussy was not having that. Something about Victor’s absolute terrifying aura was turning you on as much as you hated to admit it.

“Little lamb,” Roman was touching himself again, “getting excited aren’t we?”

“Please,” you whined. Your brain was telling you to stop, but your body wanted nothing more than to be absolutely destroyed by Victor.

“What, what do you want?” Victor growled into your ear, biting your earlobe.

“I- I- I don’t know,” You were breathless, but not in a good way.

One of Victor’s hands moved from your body and suddenly, the spot he had been roughly holding was cold and yearning for his warmth once again.

“Get those fucking clothes off her.”

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at Victor like a deer in headlights. He grabbed his knife and you looked at the blade, the color draining from your face.

“Please,” you begged, trying to push him away, your body finally listening to your brain, “please don’t cut me!”

“Don’t worry,” Victor whispered into your ear, “as much as I’d love to see how good you’d look covered in your own blood, that can be done at a later time.”

It seemed to settle in, that there would be a next time if they really didn’t kill your ass after this. You swallowed hard and shut your eyes again when you felt the blade press against your chest, at the top of your dress.

Victor began to drag the blade down the worn fabric, your skin beginning to grow cold as the air hit it. Victor eagerly ripped the dress from your body and he stepped back to look at his handy work.

“You look so beautiful.”

Your chest was bare, causing you to draw your arms up around you, protecting your chest from their wandering eyes. Your eyes were wide as you looked at Victor.

“Now, now,” Victor pointed his knife at you, “be a good girl.”

Victor grabbed your arms and pulled them away from your chest. You didn’t fight back.

“Fuck,” Roman moaned quietly, his eyes glued to you, “move the fuck over Zsasz, I want to see the pretty little lamb.”

Victor’s hand moved to your cheek as he stepped aside, and he turned your head towards him. He pressed his lips to yours once more and bit your bottom lip. Your knees buckled and you let out a loud whimper.

“Fuck!” Roman yelled, “God, get moving I wanna fuck her already.”

Victor’s hand roamed towards your panties while Roman’s head was leaned back, feeling absolute pleasure as his hand wrapped around his dick. You had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be touching you there as he began to whisper to you.

“So wet already... After Roman is done with you... I’ll show you what fucking really means. Just be a good girl, alright?”

One of Victor’s hands moved to your cheek, his finger tracing over your bottom lip as his other hand traced you through your panties.

“Hey!” Roman yelled from his seat, “I told you don’t even think about touching her pussy!” Victor rolled his eyes, causing Roman more anger. “Since you wanna be such a dick, bring her to me! As soon as I get done with her, you can do whatever you want!”

Victor lit up. He didn’t seem to care about virginity. He just wanted to fuck you senseless. And knowing he could once Roman got through was enough for him.

Victor guided you to Roman, one hand on the small of your back, the other pressing a knife to your throat, just in case you did want to try and run.

“God, (y/n),” he actually said your name, you were surprised he even knew it, “you’re so beautiful, so innocent.”

Victor shoved you towards Roman, who was situating himself. He put his dick up, which confused the hell out of you, and he patted his thigh. “C’mere,” he sounded... a lot less aggressive than you imagined. You didn’t want him to turn though, so you obliged.

Roman’s gloved hands gently ran up your bare sides and you flinched. You sucked in air and looked away from Roman, who seemed not too happy about that. “(Y/n), look at me.” And you did. Your eyes met his and your heart jumped. “I want you to look at me while riding my thigh.”

“I’ve never done this before- I don’t-”

“Shh,” Roman placed a finger against your lips, “it’s not fucking rocket science. I’m trying to be nice.” He growled, becoming agitated with you, “I don’t want to hurt you, especially being your first... Don’t make me regret that.”

You nodded and gently placed your hands on his shoulders. You sighed as you tried to relax onto his thigh. Your gut wrenched as Roman grabbed your bruised hips and pushed you down onto him. You whimpered at his tight grip, his fingers really digging into the bruises Victor left.

“Goddamnit Victor, she’s bruising.”

Victor shrugged. Roman huffed and focused his attention back on you, “I guess I could walk you through this, little lamb. That would be the nice thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

you thought.

“Now... let’s see what about you got Victor so horny...”

Roman placed his lips to yours and began to trail kisses down your neck, gently (compared to Victor) nipping at your skin. “Grind,” He demanded. Your eyes were watching the ceiling, and you couldn’t seem to follow what he was saying.

Roman pushed his leg up, his toes the only thing on the ground, and then he quickly dropped his heel back to the floor, causing ecstasy to surge through you. You gasped for air, you didn’t want it to feel good, but it did. Without thinking you began to grind your hips down onto his thigh.

You let out a strangled moan and he gave you a terrifying smile, “See, this isn’t so bad in exchange for protection, is it? I promise, I’ll show a hell of fucking time, you’ll never want to leave.”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned against him, your bare chest pressing against his and your forehead pressing against the crook of his neck. You sucked air through clenched teeth as Roman bounced his leg.

“Roman-” you choked out.

“What, what do you want? Do you want to cum for me?”

Roman began to bounce his leg more sporadically, starting and stopping randomly. “Come on, I want you to cum for me. Be a good girl and cum.” Roman’s fingers ran up and down your sides, causing your muscles to twitch under his touch. “I promise, I’ll make you feel so fucking good if you cum. I’ll fuck you right here.”

You were coming close now. Your hips rocked against his thigh and you shut your eyes tightly. Your head rolled back and Roman began kissing your throat, coaxing you into your orgasm.

“Roman,” you whined. Your brain was fuzzy, you didn’t want to be moaning his name, you didn’t want to enjoy this. But you were.

“Cum for me, (y/n).”

And you did. Your stomach turned and your skin was on fire. You let out a load moan as you kept grinding in him, your movements becoming slower. Your mouth fell open and your grip on his shoulders tightened.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful coming undone for me. I can’t to fuck you.”

You were coming down, you could feel your pussy almost spasming, and your breathing was heavy. “Not here...”

“What?”

“I'm not comfortable here-”

“Hey. Boss!”

Some good walked in, causing you to let out a scream and hug Roman close to you. You hid your head in his neck and Roman growled. “I’m busy! Fuck off!”

“But, Boss-”

“Victor, take care of him.”

Victor nodded and stalked after the man. Roman placed his hand below your chin and pulled your face from his neck, making you look at him.

“You were saying, little lamb?”

“Um- I don’t wanna do anything out here. I’d be more comfortable in your room.”

“Since you're so special, I guess I could do that for you. You are being a very good girl, after all.”

Roman easily picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he began carrying you to his room. You were dropped on his bed and he told you to scoot up. You did as you were told and pushed yourself up to the head board. Roman began undressing and another weight seemed to settle on you. This was really happening. You were really about to fuck a bad man for protection against the other bad men of Gotham.

He slowly removed his gloves and then pants. Before you knew it he was completely naked. You sucked in through your nose and cool air filled your lungs, adrenaline seeming to pump through your veins. You weren’t sure you were ready for whatever Roman was about to do.

“Fuck, little lamb, you’re so gorgeous. Take off your panties. I want to see that pretty little cunt of yours.”

You nodded and with shakey hands you grabbed at your underwear. Roman watched you closely, and you quickly noticed your nervousness was palpable. Roman stopped you and began to crawl up towards you, “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Roman’s lips pressed against your neck and began to move towards your chest. His fingers moved to the waistband of your underwear and he easily pulled them down your legs. You instinctively kicked them off and Roman smiled into your neck.

“Fuck- Victor and I have had our eyes on you since you moved to Gotham... I promise you’re in great hands. I won’t let anyone touch a hair on your pretty little head.”

You nodded and let out a whine. Roman’s fingers traced patterns into your thigh as his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. He began sucking at your nipple and he slowly pushed one of his fingers into you.

“Oh God!” Your hips bucked and Roman quickly pushed you against the bed.

“Be good, (y/n)... Since this is your first time, you get a free pass, but next time you get a little too eager I’ll let Victor punish you,” He hummed into your skin.

You nodded and steadied your hips. You almost wanted to know what Victor would do to you. But you didn’t want Roman to stop. His finger slowly moved in and out of you and his thumb quickly found your clit.

“Does this feel good, little lamb?” Roman questioned you, pulling away from your breasts and looking dead at you. You bit your lip and nodded, your eyes locking onto Roman’s. “Good, I’m going to add another finger okay, I promise itl’l feel so fucking good. You’re going to feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t even get to nod, Roman pushed another finger inside of you and your head lulled back, hitting the headboard. You let out a moan and kept your hips from bucking, you wanted to be a good girl, you needed to be one.

“Please Roman!” Your voice cracked, “Please, move faster.”

“Anything for you, my dear (y/n),” Roman began pumping his fingers in and out a little faster, his eyes burning into yours. “Cum for me.” He demanded, his thumb beginning to rub quick, but very precise circles against your clit.

You easily obliged, your pussy tightening around his fingers. Your eyes rolled back and your hands grabbed at his shoulders tightly. Roman just kept moving faster, letting you ride out your orgasm. A cry of ecstasy left your throat and you bucked into Roman.

“Now, now,” Roman pulled his fingers from you, “I thought you were going to be a good gir?”

“I will,” you mumbled, coming down from the high, “please, please don’t stop.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on it. But, I’m afraid I have to punish you now.” Roman placed his slick fingers in your mouth, “Suck.”

Your brows furrowed, but you did as he asked. You began to slowly suck on his fingers and then realized what he was doing. He was angling himself against you. Your stomach flipped and you swallowed hard. Breathing seemed to become harder as you waited with bated breath for his next move.

Roman gently, or as gentle as Roman could be, pushed into you and your face scrunched, hips bucking out of some unknown instinct. Breathing became harder and your mouth fell open.

“Focus on sucking on my fingers,” Roman looked down at you, “And keep your eyes on mine.”

With a nod, you began sucking again and you realized how vulnerable you really were, laid out below Roman, someone who could easily have you killed. Someone who could easily be your worst nightmare. But instead, he was fucking until you saw stars and as much as you wanted to hate it, it felt amazing.

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing something to spark inside of you.

“You're so beautiful taking my cock so well. I’m going to have to reward you.” Roman removed his fingers from your mouth and pressed his lips to yours. One of his hands held him above you, while the other held your hips steady.

“Fuck,” you mumbled into his lips, causing him to pull back, “please, I need you-”

He pushed further into you before pulling out, “Need me to what?”

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’ll be a really good girl, just fuck me!”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Roman smirked before pushing back into you. He began to pick up speed and his hips slammed into yours. His mouth fell open slightly and he pressed his forehead to yours, “So pretty,” he huffed, “God, you’re perfect, you’re better than I ever imagined, little lamb. Fitting around my cock perfectly.”

Your hands grabbed the silk sheets under you and you scrunched them up, pulling at the material. “I’m sorry- I don’t-” You paused and a moan fell from your mouth, “I’ve never done this, I don’t know what to say.”

Your face was flushed and you felt nervous all over again. You just wanted to ensure your protection, you did not want to fuck up.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Roman slammed his hips into yours as he spoke, “So sweet, so fucking perfect.” Roman was getting close to cumming, and you were too. Roman realized that and took it upon himself to guide you through this.

“I want-” he grunted into your ear, “I want to cum at the same time.”

You nodded and Roman picked up his pace. Your hands moved to his back and your nails dug into his skin. Roman was pounding into you at this point, panting into your ear. He lifted himself back up and looked into your eyes again. “Fuck, little lamb-”

“Roman,” You said his first name causing Roman to get a little rougher with you, “I’m gonna-”

Roman moved slightly faster, seemingly reaching his peak as well. Roman let go of your waist and aggressively grabbed your ass, letting your buck your hips as much as you liked. As Roman pulled out, your hips followed his, not wanting to feel empty.

“I’m going to fill you up,” Roman hissed in your ear, “You’re mine, (y/n), all mine.”

With that, Roman came. Your orgasm quickly hit and our fingers scratched at his back a loud whine escaping you. Roman pulled your leg around his waist, and while his menstrations slowed, he seemed to have no intentions of stopping yet. He easily filled you up.

You lied under him, writhing with pleasure, trying to catch your breath. Roman slowed down and came to a stop. “Mr. Sionis,” you moaned, “please don’t move...please, just stay here.”

“Sh, I’m not going to leave you, not yet.” His hand ran down your side again, tracing soft circles against the sensitive skin. He stayed inside of you a few minutes, letting you both come down from your orgasms.

Roman eventually pulled out of you and rolled over beside you, “That’s the best pussy I’ve ever had,” Roman sighed out, “You’re definitely staying here, you’re safe here.”

Something came over you, and your pussy seemed to be controlling you instead of your brain, “This isn’t a one time thing, is it?”

“Oh no, my dear (y/n), you’re too good to pass up,” Roman’s eyes turned dark though, “there are a few kinks we need to work out, but over all, you’re a very good girl, and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, your safety guaranteed. Victor and I will see to that.”

You had forgotten about him. It was almost as if he knew that, because as soon as he was mentioned, the door of the room opened and VIctor let himself in.

“Look boss,” Victor growled out, “is it my turn yet.”

You were too worn out to even hide yourself from him. And Roman seemed to not care that he was there, maybe it was normal, maybe Roman was worn out too.

“Szasz,” Roman sat up, “Let us clean up, fuck.”

Oh god, that meant Victor was really going to get to fuck your brains out.

#roman sionis #victor zsasz #roman sionis x reader #victor szasz xreader #roman sionis x reader x victor szasz #birds of prey #birds of prey imagine #tw dubcon

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dcbbw · 5 years ago

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WIP Wednesday 6-24-2020

Thank you for the tags @bobasheebaby, @ao719 and @loveellamae!

So, we all know I have a LOT of WIPS (a Q2 inventory is coming soon), and I know I haven’t yet responded to the lovely comments and reblogs , but I am making my way down my activity dashboard.

I am working on far more than what’s posted below and will hopefully have updates soon on your favorite fic(s).

Without futher ado, here you go! (Please note the Cordonian Arrangement sneak peek is slightly NSFW)

When We Were Young (a MoTY fic):

I know, I know! I don’t write MoTY! We can all blame @ao719 for this!

Two Years Ago, Thomas

Thomas Mendez sat in the dark at his kitchen table. A glass of scotch was loosely latched in his hand; the bottle sat on the table, half empty. It had been full when he pulled it from the cupboard. He still wore his black suit, but his tie hung from the back of Soledad’s chair and his shirt was unbuttoned from his throat to his chest.

His daughter Luz was spending the night with his parents. She needed hugs, kisses, reassurances.

Thomas had none to give.

Earlier today, they had put the love of his life, his soulmate … his wife in the ground. She had been the apple of his eye and the heart of their home. And she was gone. Her sparkling eyes, bright smile, and soft, curvy body was locked away in a box and buried deep in the earth.

And he was left alone to raise their daughter, and somehow still live his life.

Thomas drunkenly studied his glass, noticing only a few drops remained. His arm was slightly shaking as he reached out to pour more scotch; his grip slipped and overturned the bottle. Scotch poured over the tablecloth before Thomas managed to right the bottle; the pungent aroma of Johnnie Walker Black filled the room as Thomas sadly chuckled.

“You could’ve found a better way of telling me it’s time for bed, sweetheart.”

And then he burst into tears.

DC AU, Chapter 5—So Close to Heaven:

“They’re all bitches,” Olivia declared tipsily.

“Amen to that!” Madeleine raised her glass of wine; it tilted dangerously over the tablecloth.

Leo pulled on his bottle of Kingfisher; he set it down carefully, then began scraping crispy spinach onto his plate. Plates and bowls of curry, kebabs, tandoori chicken, lamb biryani, pork vindaloo, and naan covered the table.

“So wait, who are we kicking out?”

“All their asses,” Maxwell said, his words slurring slightly.

“Then why don’t we just leave?” Madeleine frowned in confusion.

“Because they need to be kicked out! Fuckers!” Olivia tried to eat some lamb, but it kept falling off her fork.

“Well, I say we keep Riley. Her potato salad is really good, and she gives up the car keys with no problem,” Leo said.

“And I do work with her …” Maxwell pointed out.

“So, we keep Riley. What about Liam and Drake?”

“Oh, they can go. Right now! Drake’s an ass. If he did that shit to Riley, who knows what he’ll do to us!” Maxwell declared quickly.

Leo looked at Maxwell, a hint of annoyance on his face. “Is Drake fucking you too?”

Maxwell shook his head vigorously. “NO!”

“Then you’re safe to go to Target with his ass.”

Anton, Chapter 5—Suspicions

“Not the monarch you were expecting?” Olivia asked with a knowing smirk on her lips.

Riley shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Olivia appraised Riley with cool green eyes before nodding her head towards a set of balcony doors. “Cigarette before the circus starts?”

“Sure.” Riley led the way, and shortly the two women were outside in the warm morning air, smoking cigarettes.

Silence hung between them, but not an entirely uncomfortable one. Olivia finally spoke.

“You should have married Liam, you know. At least then you three are only embarrassing yourselves, and not me.”

“You didn’t have to marry him,” Riley reminded her.

Olivia dragged deeply, the tip of her cigarette glowing orange; her eyes stayed fixed on the landscaped garden below.

“The Crown has taken from me. From all of us, really.” Her eyes lifted and cut to Riley. “Except you.” She tapped a long column of ash.

“It took my parents. Tried to take my duchy. It took Drake’s parents. And Liam …, “ her voice trailed off as she put her cigarette out. “You now, I often wonder what my life would be like if a King who wasn’t even good enough to be called Commoner had just not fucked with it.”

“What do you mean?” Riley had put her cigarette, and was toying with her pack, debating another one.

“What if Constantine had just focused on being a fair ruler, rather than a tyrant chasing down rumors and creating enemies? What if my parents were still alive? What if I actually knew I had a husband, and we were allowed to get to know each other? Instead of him trying to overthrow the government and kill me?”

“If that had happened, perhaps you wouldn’t be Queen.”

Olivia shrugged. “Who knows who would be on the throne. Maybe Leo’s pussy ass would have hung around.”

Cordonian Arrangement, Chapter 2—Between Two Thighs (slightly NSFW)

Riley sat in the chair, trying to drown out the sounds of her lover and her husband rutting like dogs. Hana’s moan captured her attention; she turned to see them both looking at her; Hana’s eyes closed in pleasure as her hips bucked against Liam’s. Liam’s hands squeezed Hana’s breasts, his fingers twirling erect nipples as his eyes stayed trained on Riley.

She knew what he wanted, what Hana needed: for Riley to participate in some fashion. She was the puppeteer, orchestrating their strings with just a look. An arched eyebrow, and Liam would quicken his thrusts, the staccato of skin upon skin becoming a rhythm they would all dance to. A blank expression brought jerkiness to their movements as they became unsure if their performance were up to par. A lick of her lips and narrowing of her eyes, and Liam and Hana responded to each other and to Riley. Teeth would nip skin, fingers would grab hips, thrusts became erratic and unsteady; the marionettes would forget they were tied to strings and climax. Once they were spent and laying in a heaving tangle. Riley would quietly leave.

Her role in this aspect of their arrangement was done and forgotten by all. Until next time.

What are you working on @bbrandy2002 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @anotherbeingsworld @blackcatkita @ritachacha @boneandfur

#WIP Wednesday #kinda long post #dcbbw writes #slightly ns*w

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wonderfulworldofwinchester · 5 years ago

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Hold Me Til Morning

Prompt: “Shh, You’re safe. I won’t let you go.

Jack x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nightmares, Language

A/N: This is my first Jack fic! Also I recently hit 1.7k followers, and I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful i am for each and every one of you! I am doing a giveaway to celebrate! All the info can be found at the link below :)

Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Me/Feedback | 1.7k Giveaway

Being stuck around the bunker kinda sucks, but I guess that’s the price you pay for being reckless. Damn shapeshifter. At least, the crutches are gone. No more hopping all over the place. You had begged Sam and Dean to let you go with them, even if you just had to sit in the motel room and see no action other than research. Yea, That went over well. About as well as a lead balloon. “Hell no!”

“Why?” You protested, crossing your arms over your chest. Dean stuck his hand out and pushed against your shoulder causing you to step back to regain your balance. Sharp pain shot to your knee as you foot came down, “ah shit!”

He raised his brows and pointed, “That’s why!”. You swore your eyes would bore a hole right through him if you glared any harder. “Look, it sucks. I get it. You’ll be back out there in no time, but it’s just too big a risk right now. Let it heal.”

Sam gave a sympathetic look over his brother’s shoulder, “He’s right. You need to heal up.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You threw yourself down in the chair by the table. “I’ll be here to answer your every beckon like a freaking secretary.”

“Y/N-”

“I know. I know.” You waved them off, “Research is every bit important. Sometimes more important,” Your tone was nothing less than mockery as you sneered out every word. “It saves lives. You’re still on the team.”

A week later, the phone rang for the millionth time, “What now? So help me god, Sam Winchester, if you woke me up to ask some stupid ass question again…”

You could hear Dean’s laughter in the background as well as the bitch face Sam was wearing when he spoke, “Actually, we’re headed home. Be there about noon tomorrow.” He paused for a moment, “And we have someone with us.”

“What? Who?!” You demanded answers, but were met with none.

“We’ll explain when we get there.” The phone called ended with a click, and only added to your racing train of thought.

When the door opened the next day, you damn near competed in the Olympics to get over there to see who the hell they had with them. He was just a boy. Huh? He looked around the room with a child-like wonder. So curious about every little detail, wanting to understand it all, but without any context. His smile was wide and warm when his eyes landed on you, “you must be Y/N!”

Cutting your eyes at the boys you gave a small nod, “Yea. Who are you?”

His voice again carried an innocence to it like a child that almost made it eerie, “I’m Jack.”

Sam stepped forward with what you can only assume was supposed to be a reassuring smile, “Y/N, this is Jack Kline-”

Your head popped back and your eyes went wide, “Certainly, not Kline as in Kelly Kline. As in the Devil’s mistress, and mother of the freaking spawn of Satan.”

“I know right.” Dean chimed in, “That’s what I said.”

Cue the bitch face from Sam, “Look he’s not like his father, and he needs us. Plus, you know, keep ‘em closer and all.”

“Fine, but it’s your ass Winchester. I want it noted, I was not a part of this!”

A small giggle slipped from Jack’s lips as he watched you scold Sam, “You’re funny, “Y/N.”

That was three months ago. It didn’t take long for him to grow on you. For some reason you quickly became his favorite person. He followed you pretty much everywhere, and that’s when Dean had to tell him that bathroom breaks were not a group activity. Which you had to admit was a pretty funny conversation to watch take place.

The first couple weeks, Sam and Dean were somewhat grateful to have him taken off their hands so they could get some work done. Oh how that was turned on them. You and Jack were just like kids running through the bunker after that. Inseparable. He was quite adorable, and just oh so easy to mold. You taught him everything. Well, all the fun stuff.

He was your own personal apprentice, ready and willing to help you prank the boys. He did have some questions to begin with. “Wait, won’t this make Dean mad?”

“Oh, Jack, that’s the point, my dear.” You patted his shoulder gently, “It’s how you show love, Winchester style.” He shrugged and followed you into the elder hunters room trying to stifle a laugh when you attempted to somersault in like a ninja.

Although he was practically joined at the hip with you, there were still some things that you managed to keep hidden. Mostly the scars years of hunting had etched into you. Not the kind that peppered your skin. No, these scars cut deep. The kind that sit and fester in your mind. The ones that either keep you awake at night, or haunt your dreams.

You never let Jack see that side of you. You didn’t let him see the broken pieces that threaten to tear you apart. He needed stability. He needed someone to help him cope with who he was. He certainly didn’t need to be scared off by the crap rolling through your head at night, so you locked your door, and hoped to God that he never heard your cries.

For months that worked, until one night it didn’t. You’d had one hell of a nightmare that left screams ripping from your lungs as you desperately tried to get a grip on reality and drag yourself from the horrors of the dream. Jack heard them from down the hall. Terrified that someone was hurting you, he bolted towards your room. “Y/N!” When he found the door locked, he busted it off the hinges, his eyes glowing a bright golden hue. His eyes fell on your body curled up on the floor by your bed, knees hugged tightly to your chest. “Y/N, Y/N. Are you alright?” You flinched when his hand made contact with your thigh, “Did something hurt you?”

You finally managed to calm your breathing and answer him, “Yes. A long time ago.”

“What do you mean?” He was so adorable with the way his head tilted and brows furrowed when he was confused.

Sitting up , you placed your hand on his cheek, “Jack, I just had a nightmare. It’s okay.” He looked so hurt as his eyes looked over your form, still trying to make sure that you were in fact okay. “I promise, it’s okay.”

“Do you have them often? He asked.

Your eyes fell, to the small space in between you. You decided that honesty is important in this relationship. You owed him that much. “Most nights.”

Jack looked like a puppy that had just been kicked, “I hate seeing you like this!” He was almost borderline angry at this point, “How do I fix it?”

Oh precious lamb. “You don’t, Jack. It’s a part of a hunter’s life. With what we see they don’t go away just because you don’t like them.”

He stayed silent for a while as he processed all this. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “Please don’t shut me out.”

“What?” You placed a hand under his chin, causing his eyes to meet yours. “I never wanted to keep you out. I just didn’t want you to see this side of me. The side that falls apart.”

“No more locked doors.” He held out his pinky waiting on you to promise him. You had jokingly told him that pinky promises were the highest form of deals.

You linked your finger with his, “Okay, but I don’t think I could if I wanted to”, You said looking over at the remnants of your door scattered around the entryway. His eyes apologised for him as they met yours, “It’s okay, Jack. Trust me, it’s not the first or last thing to be broken around here.”

Two nights later, the nightmares were back. This time however, there were no barriers stopping Jack from racing to your side. He was quickly by your side, wiping tears from your cheeks, “Y/N, Y/N, it’s okay.”

Your eyes opened to worry etched on his face as he tried to console you. Without a word, you shifted over in the bed. He slid in next to you, and you rested your head against his chest. Your body was still shaking with the aftershocks of the nightmare. Jack hesitantly placed his arms around you as fresh tears began to fall. The nightmare had been about him. You’d lost him. When he felt his shirt start to dampen, his grip got tighter, “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

You stayed like that for the rest of the night. It was the best sleep you’d gotten in years. And Jack. Jack was content to just hold you and watch over you. He heard you when you said he couldn’t stop them, but he was determined he was damn sure gonna try. Nothing was gonna hurt his Y/N if he had any say in it.

When you didn’t come out for breakfast, Dean wandered down the hall looking for you. It was unusual for you not to be up and about by then. He stopped just outside your room and looked through the open doorway to find you still asleep, curled up into Jack’s side with him stroking your hair. Dean wanted to fight it, but he couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. Even if he wouldn’t approve, he was glad to see you so peaceful.

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#Becca Writes SPN #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #Jack kline #jack kline x reader #jack x reader #jack x reader comfort #jack kline fanfic #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline reader insert #supernatural reader insert #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #jack kline comfort #sam winchester #dean winchester

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2idiots · 5 years ago

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Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8a

word count: 1,667ish

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

warnings: not really any, kind angsty, more than just mentions of chronic pain

(I don't know how but the second paragraph got deleted when I first uploaded. I have since added it in. So if you see something new that's why)

---

Getting Johnny from outside the building to inside your room was a lot more difficult than you expected. This was partially because your best friend was much drunker than his texts suggested and partially because each step was sending a pain reverberating down your legs and up your abdomen. A pain that you knew the mild over-the-counter pain meds would do little to numb but you had taken them with false hope anyway. Before your best friend had forced you into letting his drunkass in you were curled into your bed with a heating pad pressed into your abdomen, hoping eventually exhaustion would win over excruciating pain.

This was the real reason you bolted out of Jet Lag the minute your friends were off in different directions distracted. The pain had triggered before Mark's open mic night started but you were not about to miss the night you friend had been talking about for weeks. This was so important to him and you had to be there. So you sucked it up and promised yourself to duck out the moment it was clear and Mark had performed. Woo noticing and staying over for a few hours was just a welcomed surprise. And the leftover baked goods he brought were another plus side, not that you had any appetite. At least your blubbering fool of a friend would benefit from the pile of pastries sitting on your desk, if you could make it past the giggling desk attendant.

The first time you walked passed her with bleary eyes, focused on only the task ahead she called out something about the “cute Oppa” at the door. Immediately a gag raced up your throat at that, Johnny? A cute Oppa? Gross. He was like your brother, actually more like your overprotective mother. Sure you joked about Johnny being a daddy, but it was all shits and giggles to make him mad with Mark. He wasn't actually one. The second time she made some sort of pass at him that you blocked out and stifled another gag. You didn’t need to see or hear that child making passes at your best friend.

That wasn’t the only thing she was giggling at though. You and Johnny were quite the sight. He was a stumbling, stuttering fool and you were wearing pajamas that had been picked out in the dark, not even your shoes matched. These were things you had thrown on when Johnny begged you to let him in but your headache was pounding too much to turn the lights on, which was also the reason for the sunglasses.

Speaking of Big Foot, he was using you almost completely as a support and he weighed a lot more than his bony ass looked. How he managed to make it to your building from 7th Sense was beyond you, he could barely make it three steps without giggling and sliding around. Honestly this made you more than a little nervous for Mark, usually he was the giggly one after a few drinks. If Johnny was this drunk, then Mark could very well be dead.

Overall the hardest obstacle for Johnny to maneuver around was your actual room. He tripped over everything. Maybe it was his long spindly legs combined with the alcohol, but he even fell just trying to walk over your rug. You had to catch him before he face planted. Of course he just contiuned blabbering about the night and how well it went the whole time, even while laughing at his clumsiness. “Then Mark fell! Kinda like how he is falling for sunflower boy but like fell… on the actual ground… like how I just almost fell!” To which you just nodded, handing him a pastry and an ice cold water bottle. “And Jae was so funny, he was talking about the basketball team and one of their parties last week where someone drank beer from a ball that had been cut in half. Isn’t that gross?”

“Yeah babe, real gross,” You nodded, trying to push him toward your bed. You might not have been asleep before he messaged but you were still in bed ready to sleep and you wanted to be back there. “Can you get in bed, Jojo? I'll tired.”

Following your direction like a lost lamb, Johnny swiftly removed all his out layers and climbed into your bed continuing to talk about the basketball team and how pretty and funny they were, all the while giving you very pointed looks. Or at least he was prattling on until he went completely silent and tense before screeching, “THERE’S SOMETHING WARM!”

Arms crossed and irritation pulsed through you at the scream, you leaned over to pull the heating pad out from under him and wiggled it around in your outstretched hand, “Johnny you’ve met HP before, HP meet Big Foot.”

“HP? You named your heating pad?” He questioned already snuggling back into your sheets like he owned the bed. This happened every time he was over, sober or drunk it didn’t matter; Johnny took up every blanket and pillow in your entire bed: partially because his size, mostly because he was an asshole. One of the many reasons you were hesitant to let him stay over anymore, even though you always ended up letting him stay.

“Might as well, he’s in my bed so often,” You grinned before grabbing another water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner of the room and tossing it his direction. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, drunk Johnny, you did know that he would wake up in three hours whining about a dry mouth and you didn't want to deal with it.

“I mean he wasn’t on Halloween.” Luckily you flipped the lights off before you could see his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Here was the worst part, talkative drunk Johnny taking an interest in your life and trying to lay down his tips on life.

Grabbing an extra blanket for yourself you slid in next to him and laughed that thought off, “Actually HP was, ALSO I thought we agreed to not talk about Halloween, leave the past behind us and all.”

“Behind us? Is that how you like it y/n?” He let out a slight whimper when you turned over enough to give him a solid kick to the shin. This alcohol was giving him far more confidence than normal and you didn’t like it. Throwing his hands up, Johnny tossed out a worthless apology and whined, “I deserved that ok. But you know I wouldn’t call it the past, don’t you tutor the dude?”

That elicited a quiet response from you, a simple, “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it like two or three times a week?” He didn’t stop his incessant babbling long enough for you to answer, adding on, “You’re quite popular, my friends keep asking about you too.” Then a switch suddenly flipped in Johnny’s mind, evident by how he practically climbed over you to switch the lamp back on and give you his best mom glare, “Wait, you’re sleeping with HP?” You let out a few weak protests as the light flooded your room and his bony ass arm squished you down into the bed digging into your side. Drunk friends sucked. Too bad you loved them too much to leave them on the street. “So you’re in pain? You’re in pain and you didn’t say anything? You just went home alone and lied to Mark and me?”

“Johnny I always sleep with a heating pad and I’m always in pain. It's not a big deal.” Tonight just happened to be bad, still was, but you left that part out. “Also Jungwoo just left; I wasn’t alone.” That was accompanied by a successful effort to push him off so you could flip the light off again and snuggle into the heating pad again. “Now go to sleep, I'm tired.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you heard sniffling and an occadsional shuffle.

“Are you crying?” You asked incredulously, flipping over to see him hastily wiping away his tears in the ambient light filtering in through the window. Sure enough, your bitch-ass best friend was laying on the other side of the bed using his white undershirt to wipe his tears away. At least he was smart enough not to use your sheets as the tissue. “Stop crying.” This was new. Your friends probably knew way too much about how hard your days were getting, in fact Johnny had driven you to the ER one too many times over the past year and a half, but they had never cried in front of you. At least not about you.

You hated it.

His immediate response was denial, no he wasn’t crying. These weren’t tears, they were allergies. "Leaks in my face." But you still heard him mutter a muted “I just want you to be happy and not in pain” as the alcohol running through his system finally knocked him out.

You were struck silent, not sure how to respond. Sure he was your closest friend and that meant he had to like you, but this affection made breathing a little hard: your chest not quite expanding like it should. You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek as you turned to face the other side of the room, an effort to get away. This was exactly why you didn't tell them about tonight, you didn't want them burdened with your pain. They should have to suffer just because you were.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you blindly reached out for where you set your phone on the bedside table. You still may not be able to sleep but you could get some reading done and maybe forget the sound of Johnny's tears. And maybe, just maybe, the words would lull you into some dreamlike state so you could rest. It was only a few minutes into reading that a text interrupted the chapter.

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I've decided updates will be Thursday at 6pm. I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus

#nct imagines #nct social media au #nct xuxi #lucas nct #lucas nct imagines #wayv yukhei #wayv imagines #wayv social media au #wayv x reader #wong yukhei #yukhei imagines #yukhei x reader

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solastia · 6 years ago

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Break My Stride | 4

Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook

Word Count: 4,109

Summary: Yoongi is an Omega that has managed to escape the annual mating run without an Alpha for seven years in a row. He has no plans for that to change, but he’s unaware of his latest opponent: the newly presented Alpha Jeon Jungkook, his very determined childhood friend.

AN: The end is here! I figured I would knock this last chapter out since it was almost done. I hope you all enjoyed this self-indulgent fic. I have a couple of extra chapter ideas I might add some time in the future. Like, one where I tell the Namjinseok pairing from their POV, and a chapter with Beta Jungkook’s pov, maybe a Vmin origin chapter...and I dunno. I had a couple more. Just saying this might not be the last we see of them. Enjoy!

Waking up in Jungkook’s arms was something that he thought he could get used to easily. As soon as he opened his eyes he was face to face with the Alpha, the other’s appearance so innocent and peaceful in sleep. He took the chance to observe him at leisure, memorizing all the various moles and scars.

“Watching people sleep is really creepy, hyung.”

Yoongi sputters as Jungkook cracks open an eye, his lips turning up in a sleepy grin.

“Shut up. I was just trying to figure out how to wake you up since you sleep like you’re dead.”

Jungkook hums and scratches his belly. “Hmm, I’ve always wanted to wake up with your mouth on my co - “

Yoongi kicks him in the shin. “Yeah, I get it, shut up...maybe next time.”

Jungkook giggles and rolls over on top of Yoongi, uncaring of their equally horrible morning breath as he kisses him sweetly on the lips. He pauses for just a moment before doing the same to the mating bite that was slowly healing on Yoongi’s neck. The spot tingled at the touch, the overwhelming depth of Jungkook’s feelings bleeding through the connection. It was going to take a lot of work to get used to that.

“Mmm,” Yoongi hums deeply. “We should start heading back. I’m starving and they should have the good BBQ food trucks out today. They know we all worked up an appetite.”

“We did,” Jungkook smirks, then his expression changes instantly, his eyes going impossibly wide. He nibbles at Yoongi’s shoulder as he stares up at him. “You should buy me meat, hyung. Buy me lamb skewers.”

“I’ll give you some meat,” Yoongi grumbles playfully as he climbs off the bed, stretching his aching limbs.

“I mean, I’m down for anything,” Jungkook giggles.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you’re horny in the morning, aren’t you?”

Jungkook comes around the bed and wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist, nuzzling into the Omega’s neck.

“Just for you, hyung.”

“And sappy too,” Yoongi chuckles and turns his head to peck Jungkook on his cheek in consolation for tearing his arms off of him.

“Grab your clothes, baby. We gotta go before Jin orders all the steak for himself. Let’s not forget the twenty orders of crabs and lobsters debacle of 2015.”

The Alpha sighs, but it sounds so happy Yoongi looks at him curiously. He's looking all dreamy, with that dopey little smile again.

“What?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I like it when you call me baby.”

Yoongi chuckles and throws Jungkook’s pants onto his face. The Alpha grumbles but eventually starts tugging his clothes on and straightening himself up. His bedhead flopped around cutely, unable to be tamed.

Yoongi quickly got ready himself, tugging on his clothes and ruffling his hair a bit. He definitely needed a shower, but he settled for using the few toiletries he’d thought to bring - an extra layer of deodorant and a gargle of mouthwash, neither of which covered up the heady ‘just mated’ scent that emanated from his very pores. Not that he really minded. He rather enjoyed how their scents had blended together, creating something that smelled like a summer day with undercurrents of contented mates. Something he’d never thought he’d associate with himself. He was surprised at how much he was looking forward to showing off that he belonged to Jungkook.

“What are we gonna do with all your other stuff here, hyung?” Jungkook asks as he hands Yoongi a water bottle from the chest. He takes a moment to chug the whole thing and tosses it into the garbage bag in the corner.

“We’ll come back for it later tonight. There’s a trail not too far away that my car can reach and I’ll need the bedding to be able to get any sleep,” Yoongi grumbled, slightly annoyed at the very thought of being away from his nest for too long.

Newly bonded couples usually stayed near their nests for at least a week, and he was starting to realize why. He had to struggle through the slight panic he felt over being away from their “den”, temporary though it was supposed to be. His Omega was practically whining thinking of leaving the well-scented nest. The urge to just say fuck it and tackle Jungkook into the bedding was really strong.

Yoongi went to the tunnel and waited as Jungkook tugged on his track jacket before he walked over and gestured towards him.

“After you, hyung,” Jungkook waved towards the tunnel with a suspicious looking grin.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes but shrugged, climbing into the tunnel. He scuttled along, maybe making sure his ass waved in front of the Alpha’s face a little more than was necessary. He yelped when Jungkook answered his challenge by biting him right on the ass. The other answered his glare with an unapologetic smirk before they continued their journey.

Once they reached the end and crawled out, they helped each other clean off then started walking the same path they’d taken to get there. The weather was perfect - sunny with just a touch of breeze to make it bearable. The birds were chirping, squirrels running around on the branches. Add to that the moment when Jungkook slyly laced his fingers with Yoongi’s as they walked and it was a regular Disney moment.

Since they were just walking it took a bit longer to reach the stream, and by the time they were there, Yoongi was getting tired. He stopped for a moment to stretch and kick some of the kinks in his ankles away. Jungkook suddenly walked in front of him and presented his back.

“Hop on.”

“What? We still have a bit and I’m heavy,” Yoongi protested with a wave.

“You weigh next to nothing. Come on, baby. Sooner we get there, sooner you can buy me meat.”

Yoongi sputters at the unexpected endearment, while Jungkook grins.

“You like it too, huh? Noted.”

Just to shut him up, Yoongi climbs onto the offered back, lacing his arms around Jungkook’s neck and winding his legs around the Alpha’s surprisingly thin waist.

“Hold on, hyung.”

And with that, Jungkook charges ahead, running at nearly full speed as Yoongi tries to hold on without squealing. Suddenly, it’s not that surprising how Jungkook had caught up with him so fast if he could run like this even while he was carrying a whole other person.

Because of Jungkook’s ridiculous stamina, they made the last stretch in half the time it would have taken Yoongi alone. Just as they passed the final stretch of stream, the sounds of the Run event filtered through the trees. Many of the people had been here for hours already, waiting for the couples that had stayed in the woods overnight to rejoin their parties. This second day of the event was the biggest and was when everyone would take the chance to celebrate new joinings and make sure the new couples were fed well before they went on their way to their new homes.

As soon as the official tables came into view, Jungkook gently helped Yoongi back onto his own feet and grasped his hand to pull him eagerly towards them.

Jungkook walked straight towards the first woman he saw with a clipboard, blindsiding the stunned woman with one of his lethal smiles while he wrapped an arm around Yoongi’s waist to pull him close.

“Hi! We both need mating packets.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes because he could tell that Jungkook was practically bragging instead of just asking like a normal person.

The woman’s smile widened as she passed them the sign-out sheet and two big packets of paperwork.

“Congratulations! You make a lovely couple. Your packet includes an instruction sheet and we’ve tried to make filling them out as painless as possible. Just remember to send them in within two weeks to avoid the fine. I hope you two have a happy union,” the official enthused, cooing whenever Jungkook would nuzzle into Yoongi’s hair.

Jungkook signed out and passed Yoongi the board while he accepted the two bulging packets. Yoongi quickly scribbled his name, pausing for a moment to take it all in. This was it. He wouldn’t have to look at this dumb shit again. No more runs for him. He was free of it all and coming out with a good Alpha that was already his best friend. Not in a million years had he ever pictured this outcome, but he was so happy that Jungkook chose him.

They don’t even bother looking for the others yet as both of them were absolutely starving, so they went straight towards the food trucks. After letting Jungkook enthusiastically pull him between four different trucks, they came away with two BBQ platters with ten lamb skewers on the side, a couple orders of bao buns, a variety platter of tacos, and a couple of strawberry shortcakes for dessert. Yoongi wasn’t even sure if they were going to eat it all, but he figured what they didn’t touch the rest of the group would descend on like vultures.

They were searching for an open picnic bench to settle down on when Yoongi heard a deep voice screaming Jungkook’s name. Taehyung waved to them wildly as he stood on top of a table, obviously having been trying to keep an eye out for them.

Yoongi breathed deeply, suddenly nervous. He was proud, yes, but he was still nervous about what his friends would think. There could be any number of issues that they could take with their mating, like that he was too old for Jungkook, too mean, too messed up - just too much.

Instead, Taehyung’s happy grin turned into a smirk the closer they got. He jumped off the table and his gaze flickered between Yoongi and Jungkook’s necks, inhaling deeply before he suddenly started laughing. Jimin sauntered up holding a couple of drinks, and he handed one to Taehyung as he looked at him curiously.

“Look,” Taehyung said breathily between bouts of laughter, “They finally figured it out.”

Jimin turned his glance to the two standing awkwardly with their hands full of food, his eyes widening as he took in the bite marks. He inhaled deeply before chuckling.

“Congrats! It’s about time.”

Yoongi looked at the two, suddenly very confused.

“What the hell does that mean?” he muttered as he set his food down on the table. Jungkook silently slid in next to him and squeezed his thigh in comfort.

“It means,” Jimin rolled his eyes, “That we been knew. Jungkookie has always been obvious as hell about you, hyung. And we always knew he was your favorite. Oh god, Tae. Do you remember the time Jungkook spent an entire weekend making Yoongi hyung a valentine when he was like, ten? He even made him homemade chocolates shaped like music notes.”

Taehyung giggled, nodding his head. “Oh yeah. And remember when Yoongi thought Jungkookie was dating that Mina girl? He was like an angry bear and kept snapping at everyone. Then suddenly, he was hungry and nothing but the pancakes at the diner would do. Nevermind that was where Jungkook was hanging out with Mina to study for their science project.”

“Okay, I get it. Alright,” Yoongi murmured, distracting himself with a bite of food.

“Baby,” Jungkook suddenly whispered against his ear, “Were you jealous?”

Yoongi could feel his face flush as he cleared his throat and whispered back.

“I wanted to rip her hair out and I didn’t know why.”

Jungkooks smug grin was totally worth letting that little embarrassing fact drop.

“Anyway, everyone else on their way?” Yoongi asked after taking a sip of his drink.

Jimin and Taehyung sneak a glance at each other before wiggling their eyebrows in tandem.

“Now there’s a story. Basically, one moment we were finishing our dinner as we watched you two start your run, then Hobi and Namjoon were quietly arguing with Jin. The next thing I know, Hobi starts growling at Jin and goes, “Run,” in like the scariest voice I’ve ever heard him use. Jin just stood there looking stunned for a minute and starts to walk away like he was leaving. Then Namjoon stands up and points towards the forest and goes, “Wrong way, hyung. Run that way,” Jimin explains dramatically, letting Taehyung take over the rest.

“Yeah, and then Jinnie looks shocked as hell but then he books it. Namjoonie and Hobie hyung kissed for like a whole minute, which was both sweet and gross, and then Hobie I swear to God said, “Let's go get our mate, baby,” then ran after Jinnie. So I’m guessing they fucked in the woods all night because we still haven’t seen them come back.”

“Huh,” Yoongi huffs. “Speaking of about time.”

All four of them make various sounds of agreement then focused on their food for the most part, Jimin occasionally regaling them with tales of couples he’d seen coming out of the woods. Jungkook was absolutely shameless with his affection, not caring if Taehyung or Jimin made fun of him for his constant nuzzling or various groping on Yoongi’s person. Yoongi himself was surprised that he was allowing it, as he’d never really been into PDA, but instead his stupid Omega was preening and basking with pride in the Alpha’s affections. It probably didn’t hurt when he saw how many envious glances were thrown his mate’s way.

An hour later and they were all beginning to consider texting the other three to make sure they were at least alive. Yoongi was getting anxious because he really wanted to leave and nest with Jungkook, his Omega slowly growing nervous with all the various scents coming close to his new mate.

Just as he was about to suggest leaving and apologizing to the rest later, the three finally came through the trees, all of them holding hands with Seokjin in the middle. They were covered in dirt and leaves but looked happy and content. All three of them sporting mating bites on both sides of their necks.

The four at the table erupted into whistles and catcalls as they came closer. Namjoon’s proudly puffed his chest, his pride nearly rivaling Jungkook’s attitude of the day. Hoseok’s smile was beaming and Seokjin somehow managed to look unruffled, though his slight blush gave him away.

“Congratulations,” Yoongi smirked as he raised his cup towards the new mates.

Jin quirked an eyebrow at him, “Indeed. I could say the same for you. Been doing things with my baby brother, have you?”

Yoongi sputtered and eyed Seokjin nervously before the other finally broke, laughing loudly.

“Relax. I’ve known about his crush for years. And then when he presented he wouldn’t stop screaming your name - which, thanks for that. That’s burned into my memory for all fucking time.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Of course not. I couldn’t have picked better for either of you. I love you both and you’ll be happy together. Of course, if you hurt him, you know how much crime television I watch. I could kill you and dispose of the body and weep so well at your funeral not a soul would suspect me.”

“Noted,” Yoongi cringed as Jungkook giggled and kissed the side of his head.

“Hyung, wanna go home?” Jungkook whispered.

Yoongi nodded and Jungkook stood up, grabbing his hand to help him up. They left the rest of the food there for the others to pick on and waved to the table,

“Alright, we’re out of here. Don’t bother us for the rest of the weekend,” Jungkook smirked at the group. They rolled their eyes and yelled their goodbyes.

“Make sure you remember to eat well!” Hobi screamed, “And don’t forget to make sure Yoongi drinks water! He always forgets, and he smells like he’s going into heat. OH, get him Slurpees! He loves those when he’s in heat!”

“Will do, hyung! Bye guys!”

Yoongi rushes off before they finish screaming instructions, now thoroughly embarrassed - even if he was a little touched by their concern.

Jungkook escorts him to his own car and even opens the door for him. Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before he goes back to his spoiled brat ways, so for now he’s enjoying this side of Jungkook.

The drive is quiet but comfortable, the two of them only unlacing their clasped hands if necessary. When they pull up to the three-story Italiante house that Yoongi has coveted since he was young, his heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

“Are you happy, hyung?” Jungkook asks as he helps Yoongi out of the car and pulls him towards the entrance.

Yoongi’s voice catches when he tries to answer, so he simply nods and squeezes Jungkook’s hand, knowing the other will understand and perhaps feel him over the bond without saying anything.

Yoongi’s only been able to see the inside of this house in person a couple times, mostly having to rely on memory and internet pictures to make his dream plans. The inside is still the same, with the original wood floors, intricate windows, and the massive fireplace in the front parlor. It appeared as though all that Jungkook had really done was clean the place up and add a couple of chairs and a small table for them to use during the bonding period.

“I figured since I was able to buy the whole thing with cash and now it’s all ours, we could use the savings you’ve been putting together towards actually decorating it how you wanted and fixing up whatever needed it.”

“That's...God, that’s perfect, Kook. You’re perfect. Thank you,” Yoongi said breathlessly, trying to contain his tears as he took in the magnificence of the house. The home of his dreams, with the perfect Alpha. He didn’t know if he deserved all this, but he wasn’t willing to give it up even if he wasn’t.

“I already claimed the bedroom towards the back of the upstairs hall for us. It’s the biggest and I put a mattress and stuff in there for us to use until we go shopping,” Jungkook nods towards the stairs before suddenly clearing his throat nervously.

“And...uh...we might wanna pick a room for a nursery.”

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi huffed a laughed, “Already making big plans, baby Alpha?”

“Um,” Jungkook ruffled his hair nervously, “So part of being a prime is enhanced scenting and hearing, even more than the usual Alpha. So...uh...we can smell stuff like pregnancy right away. And hear heartbeats. And enhanced fertility...” Jungkook’s voice trailed off until it was nearly a whisper.

Yoongi turned to stare at the nervous Alpha, lifting an eyebrow as he pieced together what Jungkook was trying to say.

“You motherfucker. You knocked me up, didn’t you?”

“Um...yes? I mean, it’s too early to hear a heartbeat I think, but I can smell you. You smell really super sweet and like...maybe milky?”

Yoongi strode towards him and startled him by reaching up and pulling him in for a hard kiss. When he pulled away, Jungkook gaped at him in awe.

“You’re not mad?”

“No, baby. I’m not mad. I’m...maybe overwhelmed a bit. Just yesterday I was resigned to being alone, and now I have an amazing mate and a pup on the way. I’m so grateful that you picked me.”

Jungkook rushed forward and embraced him, nuzzling his nose into Yoongi’s hair.

“I love you, hyung.”

“I love you too, baby.”

With that, Jungkook swooped in and grabbed Yoongi, picking him up bridal style as he ran up the stairs to their new nest, where they spent the rest of the day breaking it in until they had to leave to clean out Yoongi’s cave under the cover of darkness.

Yoongi fanned himself as he sat in an uncomfortable lawn chair, the blazing sun making him absolutely miserable. It would have been tough for him on a usual day, but now at five months pregnant, he was basically in hell. Still, there was no way he’d miss Jungkook’s academy graduation.

The six of them were crammed into the middle of the front row as they waited for Jungkook’s name to called. Hobi was excitedly waiting for his chance to embarrass the poor Alpha with the brightly colored banner he made just for the occasion. The other two youngest were rapidly arguing back and forth trying to decide on some sort of chant they were going to scream.

Yoongi gently smiled as Jungkook’s eyes found him in the crowd, the other’s bunny smile wide and beaming when he caught sight of his mate. They were still as crazy about each other as ever, having spent the last five months building their home together and finding it easy to turn their close friendship into a solid foundation for their new life as mates. His Alpha absolutely doted on him and Yoongi did everything he could to make sure Jungkook knew he felt the same.

Finally, Jungkook’s name was called and he walked up to shake the Captain’s hand and accept the paper stating he’d graduated from the Police Academy after six grueling months of training.

The group clapped along with the rest of the room, but Hobi and the two brats of course stood up and started dancing and waving the banner around as Jungkook’s face flush a lovely color of dark pink. He tried to gesture for Hobi to sit down, even knowing it was a futile attempt.

It wasn’t until they determined they had thoroughly embarrassed the young Alpha enough that they finally settled down and allowed the announcer to call the next person. Yoongi chuckled to himself know he was going to have to listen to Jungkook bitch about their friends later.

After the ceremony, there was a small reception and the group found themselves in the back of the room settling into a round table that was similar to their usual spot. Yoongi observed his friends contently as he held hands with Jungkook under the table, the other one rubbing his stomach absentmindedly.

“You know, something just occurred to me,” Namjoon suddenly blurted. “It’s not that surprising we all ended up together. We never wanted to make friends with other people either, so of course we would want to be mates with each other too.”

“Speak for yourself, hyung,” Taehyung chuckled. “I have tons of friends that aren’t you guys. So does Jiminie.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I just mean like, maybe there was a reason we always stuck together. Maybe we were all meant to be.”

“If you’re trying to tell me you love me, Joonie, I appreciate it but I have a lovely Alpha already,” Yoongi smirks.

“I just mean, like, soulmates. You know? Maybe we were supposed to meet to help each other find our mates. Or maybe we are all soulmates in various forms.”

“I’m too exhausted to think about this right now, my love. We all love each other, we’re going to grow up and live in the same nursing home. Etc, etc. Just eat,” Jin says as he shoves a piece of chicken in Namjoon’s mouth.

Yoongi was grateful for Jin’s interference because he was too tired for one of Namjoon’s epiphanies, but he did get what he’d been trying to say. He’s always felt like this group was where he was supposed to be, these other six souls that there intertwined with his own. And one that shone brighter than the rest as it became one with his; as Jungkook’s love and devotion made every day worth living.

He stroked his stomach gently, smiling to himself. Jungkook squeezed his hand and spoke words of love with his eyes as he smiled down at the Omega.

Yes, this is where he was meant to be.

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heartslogos · 5 years ago

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executive assistant to the batman [50]

“Yo, you got Crane already?”

“Yup,” Dick rubs the side of his hip where Crane had gotten in a good kick. It’s going to be bruised and terrible to work with, but it’s better than a stab wound and Dick will take that win any day. “Evac okay?”

“They cart Crane off yet?”

“Just about, got a question for the not-so-good doctor?”

“Yeah. The Lamb was in one of the buildings he’d rigged with his gas. Check if he was targeting him on purpose.”

Slightly muffled, but no less indignant, is Tim Drake’s voice asking, “Your codename for me is the Lamb?”

“Yeah, you know. Like the lamb that breaks the seal to the end of days? Anyway stop eavesdropping.”

“I’m not eavesdropping, you’re talking to him right next to me!”

“I don’t eavesdrop on you when you’re on the phone doing whatever the fuck it is you do, Drake.”

“You’re a bat, you listen to everything all the time.”

“Where are you guys?” Tim’s been on sick leave from an injured leg coupled with an infection for the past two days. “And why was the Lamb walking?”

“He took the bus.”

“What happened to his car? He had one.”

“Why don’t you ask him later? Go talk to Crane and see if this shit was on purpose before they lock him up. I’m taking the Lamb back to his place. You know. To make sure he doesn’t fuck himself up further. Like he does.”

Hood cuts the line before Dick can hear what is no doubt a colorful response.

“O, you’re recording this right?”

“I don’t know why you ask questions like that, N,” Oracle says, “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Just covering my bases,” N says, turning to head back to the police cars, ducking underneath the yellow police tape as he searches out the armored car he’d seen them taking Crane to a minute ago.

He catches them just before they drive off and the officers gladly open the back of the armored vehicle so Nightwing can get a word in.

“Hey, Crane, were you targeting this area because you knew Drake would be here?”

The burlap sack that’s Crane’s mask tilts a little in acknowledgement, “Drake?”

“Yeah. Timothy Drake?”

“Who?”

“The executive assistant to Bruce Wayne?”

“Ah. That one. Nigma’s favorite.”

Nightwing blinks, “Wait, you guys have favorites? He’s the Riddler’s favorite? How did — the Riddler and Tim Drake are acquainted?”

“No, of course not. We consider all of you equal nuisances.” Crane sounds eerily similar to B when he says that. “And you’d have to ask Nigma regarding that. Or Drake, himself. I cannot emphasize enough how much this fascinating discussion does not pertain to me. Is this detainment lawful?

“It’s not exactly detainment, Crane. I’m just asking you some friendly questions.” Dick grins, “Who’s favorite am I, doctor? Am I yours? Come on. You’ve got to admit to a certain rapport between us. C’mon, I promise I won’t tell.”

“There are no favorites, Nightwing. You’re simply eldest, and therefore the irritation we are most used to dealing with,” Crane answers. Again, sounding a lot like B whenever Dick tries to needle him about the same topic. “Enough with this, why would I be targeting an assistant?”

“Because he basically runs W.E. when Bruce Wayne is being Bruce Wayne?”

“And what do I care about this, Nightwing? Are you trying to accuse me of something? Best to just say it. You drawing this out is getting neither of us anywhere aside from annoyed.”

“W.E. funds Batman.”

Crane’s long-suffering sigh gives Dick the heavy impression that he’s rolling his eyes so hard that they’d pop out of their sockets if he didn’t have eyelids and glasses.

“I don’t care that Gotham’s answer to the Kardashians funds Batman. Batman has been my antagonist since before Bruce Wayne and his money decided a skylight would be a fun new toy to invest in.”

Nightwing silently hopes that O’s also recording this bit too, because he absolutely needs to share this with everyone he knows. He needs to blast Crane saying this out loud in the Cave with some kind of music drop behind it. If his domino had some kind of visual recording he’d stick this moment in an electronic photo frame and give it to Bruce for Father’s Day.

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, Crane, I was just checking,” Nightwing holds up his hands, stepping away from the car. “Be good on the drive back to Arkham, no McDonalds stops for you, alright? Thanks for letting me talk to him, officers. I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

Nightwing escapes to a rooftop so he can pass it onto Hood that Drake and Crane’s proximity was a coincidence.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” O says just as Nightwing’s about to open his mouth.

“There isn’t even any CCTV here,” Nightwing glances around anyway, “How did you know?”

“You think I don’t know you, boy wonder?” O’s voice scrambler flicks off. “Give it a few minutes. Drake’s still busy tearing his way up one side of Jason’s ass and he’s got to work his way down the other.”

“Yikes. It can’t have taken them that long to get to his apartment.”

“Oh, they’re there all right. But Drake won’t go inside until he finishes giving Hood a piece of his mind.”

“They’re going to be there forever.” Dick’s pretty sure Tim’s got a few things Jason’s pissed him off about that he’d be more than happy to unload onto Hood with.

“Oh, nice. He’s started in on complaining about B to Hood so that Hood can take it up with B later.”

Jason would never keep his mouth shut about having someone complain about him about something B’s done.

“This is why he’s the favorite, apparently.” Dick sits down on the roof ledge, propping his chin on the palm of his hand as he swings a leg, hitting his heel against the brick facade of the building. “Do you happen to know anything about what happened to Drake’s car?”

“He drove it through Gotham, what do you think happened?” O replies. “It got wrecked during a fight.”

“It was a company issued car, he could’ve just gotten a new one. It’s basically an expected expense,” Dick points out. “Considering that the first one was basically forced on him to start with.”

Tim’s expression when he saw that car was a mixture of pure euphoric desire and unmitigated horror. Because on one hand, it was a beautiful car. On the other hand? At what cost did he get that car? Years in service to the Wayne family, and the promise of his future in that service.

“He can’t just keep replacing cars,” O says. “Considering his job position? And his streak of barely surviving bodily harm through sheer force of bullheaded will? He’d be going through cars like people go through toilet paper. W.E. is rich. They’re not that rich.”

#heartsfic #c: a star going red giant #c: the queen who conquers #c: icarus rising

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blogs-of-our-lives · 5 years ago

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I’m sorry to say this, but this may very well be the last of the Blogs of Our Lives post.

I’ve had a lot of fun writing for this, but it’s just not what I want to do with my life. And as much as I enjoy it, it’s taking time away from other creative projects. For my tens of viewers, it’s not the end of a chapter, but the beginning of a new one. Thank you all for reading, and believing that I can make something wonderful and funny out of trash. I just want you all to know that deep down, from the bottom of my heart, no matter how much love I have for you all, I will never ever ever love you as much as I hate Brightburn.

Brightburn suuuuuuuucks. It sucks sucks sucks. I couldn’t wait until later in the post to say that. I had to lead with how trash the movie was, and now I’m going to spend the next couple pages explaining why it’s trash. It’s so bad that I – shitty movie connoisseur, who is making himself watch Days of our Lives and write about it – hated the movie so much that I decided to write a whole paper about it just to prevent someone else from being tricked into seeing it.

I will start with the only good thing about the movie. The concept. Brightburn is about a young kid (I’d estimate about sixth grade) who discovers he has super powers akin to that of a god. He has super strength, he has super speed, he can fly, he can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and he’s almost indestructible. Essentially Superman. It’s not a particularly original idea, but I was intrigued with the fact that the kid seemed to almost immediately become evil. This isn’t particularly farfetched. In fact, psychopathic traits are fairly common amongst children. The brain isn’t done developing, and in some senses the child is a psychopath. Kids simply grow out of it. Luckily, kids are small, they’re weak, they can’t drive, they can’t vote, and they can’t even get a movie ticket to an R rated movie like Brightburn, which I refuse to grant the respect of italicization. The amount of damage a kid could do is extremely limited. So the idea of a middle-schooler with superpowers is kind of terrifying. Imagine a child without empathy who you can kick your ass. If you tell them to go to bed, they can throw you through a wall. And it’s not a one in a million chance the kid will be a psychopath. Plus, when I was a kid I used to think when it rained somewhere it rained everywhere. It blew my mind that it was raining in my hometown but not in my friend’s town. When my dad was a kid he was terrified of this movie called Killdozer. About a bulldozer that came to life and killed people. In his words, “What are you going to do, hide from it? It’ll just bulldoze everything.” Kids are idiots.

Side note, I hope it’s not lost on anyone that I italicized Killdozer but not Brightburn. It’s intentional. I respect a movie about a killer bulldozer more than a $12 million movie.

Anyway, that was the only good part of the movie. The concept. Now I’m going to tear it apart, starting with the pacing. Nobody really knows or cares about the pacing when it’s done right. When it’s done wrong, the movies often feel like they stagnate or are rushed in parts. Brightburn is one of the worst examples I can think of. The buildup just drags on and on and on and on. By the time [SPOILER ALERT] Brendon (or whatever the fucking kid’s name is) turns evil, we had been sitting in that theater for a solid hour. Maybe more. That’s two thirds of the movie (including credits) that was spent just building up. So now, when we finally get the action payoff, it felt like the movie was rushing to the end. The kid destroys most of the house, kills four people, and then blows up a plane in like twenty minutes. It’s like trying to write on a piece of paper and running out of room so you have to make the letters smaller and smaller to fit on one page. But it’s a thousand times worse than that, because the paper had a set length. You could plan out where the letters needed to go and how big they can be. A movie isn’t made with a length in mind. So it’s like reading a sentence but the letters get smaller and smaller for no clear reason. It felt like they didn’t know how to end the movie so they just threw some crap together and tried to play it so fast we wouldn’t realize how trash it was.

On to the acting. I have no real complaints. The mom and the dad did pretty good jobs. Even the kid did a decent job. At times it was pretty weak, but I think most of that was on the writing.

Fuck the writing. The Chekov’s guns of the movie were stupid and obvious. In one of the first scenes, the mother whistles during a game of hide and seek in order to get him to whistle back, like an off-brand Marco Polo. My editor literally leaned over to me (like two minutes into the movie) and whispered “I bet that’s going to come back later.” It did. Later on in the movie, the dad comments to the mom that it was strange Braxton had never broken a bone or even got a cut. Like two scenes later, the kid finds his space ship and immediately cuts his hand on the metal. Sure enough, it comes back later in the film, in a way so stupid that I’m going to struggle to put it into words. The mother jumps to freedom from her house and somehow cuts her hand during the fall. She looks at the cut (which is shaped exactly like Bryson’s and positioned in the exact same place), looks at the barn where the spaceship is hidden, looks back at the cut, and says (I’m paraphrasing) “The spaceship! It’s the only thing that can hurt him.” The biggest sign of a bad writer is when the characters think about what they’re about to do, say what they’re about to do, and then do it. JUST DO IT. I remembered the garbage scene from earlier in the film that established the only thing that can hurt him. Who was that line for? Children who weren’t paying attention? The film was rated R. Maybe they assumed the only people they could trick into seeing this trash were too stupid to follow a plot. And yes, I’m one of the idiots they tricked into watching it. Jokes on them, now I’m tearing their movie apart on my blog with tens of readers.

I’ve told you guys about I, Frankenstein. The movie was worse than that. At least the writing in I, Frankenstein, while bad, followed a formula. There was never a point in which I rolled my eyes, it just in generally wasn’t particularly good. Brightburn, on the other hand, was aggressively bad. It was like all the different facets of a movie (acting, special effects, writing, pacing, visuals) had a competition to be the worst part of this dumpster fire of a film. I’m being too hard on the special effects. They were just wildly unmemorable, not actually bad. But somehow, incredibly, Brightburn was even worse than the sum of its parts. At a certain point, I looked up and started watching the blinking light of the fire alarm. There wasn’t really a pattern to it. I was fascinated. At another point, during the resolution of the movie, a man sitting behind me got out his phone and made a phone call. And you know what, I don’t blame him. It wasn’t like he was taking away from the experience. I was glad he was having more fun than me.

Something I didn’t realize until now, when I looked up Brightburn on Wikipedia to trash how much money went into making it ($6-12 million, so honestly they used the money pretty well), was that it’s called a “superhero horror film.” I took a class my last year in college about Horror as a genre, and the running theme of the class was the question what is horror? I’ll define horror as best as I can, and you are all free to agree or disagree as to whether or not it’s true. I personally do not consider Silence of the Lambs to be a horror film, though it is scary. It’s a crime film. Even if the film contained supernatural elements (like, say, if Hannibal Lecter was a ghost and rather than breaking out of prison he comes back to life), it would still be a crime film. On the other hand, I consider the movie Friday the 13th (the 1980 film with Kevin Bacon, not the trash remake) to be horror. Even if the film contained no supernatural elements, it would still be a horror film. Friday the 13th Part 1 doesn’t actually contain anything supernatural, but if I mentioned one that does (Parts 2-12) I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to remind everyone that a young Kevin Bacon not only dies in this movie, but also has a sex scene. It’s arguably his strongest performance.

Returning to my point, a universal part of horror seems to be the haunting. It doesn’t need to be a ghost haunting, it could be a human haunting as well. I’m sure it exists, but a movie about a stalker could easily be classified as horror, depending on the tone of the movie. Hell, The Gift was a great horror movie, and nothing supernatural or even particularly out of the ordinary took place. Looking at IMDB’s top 10 horror movies of all time, it lists The Evil Dead, The Exorcist, The Shining, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween, Alien, The Thing, Nightmare on Elm Street (trash), Psycho, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Of these movies, I haven’t seen Psycho, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, or The Exorcist (at least not all the way through). In every single one of the films I have seen, the characters are haunted by some kind of being. In some movies, they’re hunted by it, and in others (particularly the Exorcist), they’re tormented by it. But either way, a haunting is an essential part of every movie. In Silence of the Lambs (IMDB rated it as the 14th best horror movie, naturally), the killer never haunts the characters. He’s a menace, a killer, and a danger to everyone, but he doesn’t haunt them.

Brando from Brightburn never haunts anyone, except for a ten second scene where he spies on his crush, which was honestly more cringey than creepy. So no, it’s not a superhero horror movie. It’s not a horror movie. If you want to call it anything, call it science fiction. The kid’s an alien, for Christ’s sake. Isn’t that like the number one test to see if you’re watching sci-fi? Right now, if you google “horror movies,” Brightburn is one of the first 10 images to appear. THIS IS UNNACEPTABLE.

I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but horror has always been a trash genre. I don’t want to give off the impression that I’m the horror equivalent of a comic book nerd writing about how The Avengers ruined my childhood and it was all wrong because they got one detail wrong from the source material. [Side note: I really enjoyed Endgame, and at the time of writing this, it is the number one highest grossing film of all time, and honestly it deserves it more than the trash blue cat people movie. It was a really satisfying ending to one of the largest franchises of all time]. Even the golden years of horror, the Friday the 13ths and the Nightmare on Elm Streets and Halloween, are all just… pretty good. The writing was competent, the music and cinematography were original and not bad, but it’s not particularly scary, and it looks like every horror movie will eventually become that way, except for the ones that rely on cheap jump scares. That’s the nature of horror, I suppose. It preys on a current and relevant fear, and as that fear becomes irrelevant, so does the movie. So when I complain about modern horror, I complain about the cheap, shitty writing that goes into by uncreative and unoriginal people that disappoints everyone. Modern horror is an easy paycheck. It’s cheap and it’s surefire. The Brightburn garbage raised $30 million dollars on a budget of $6 million. Pet Semetary, Crawl, and Annabelle Comes Home raised a collective $366 million to a collective budget of $66 million. That is a fucking absurd return on investment. None of these movies (except for Crawl, kinda) did anything different. Pet Semetary was a remake. Annabelle Comes Home is a continuation of the Garbage Cinematic Uni-garbage-verse that spawned from The Conjuring. So horror has become a yearly money-maker for big production companies. Just put out some trash that will surprise (not scare) people, and watch the dollars roll in. Financially, this is the golden age of horror. They can make anything with a jump scare and make MILLIONS.

I don’t know what the point of all this is. I’m not telling the genre to do better, because it’s doing pretty fine. Midsommar and Us both got pretty good reviews. Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark looks pretty good. It’s not like all the talent dried up. There’s still plenty of creative and original people working on horror movies, and they’re making some really good stuff. I guess it boils down to me hating Brightburn on a deep, personal level, and I’m not really sure why. I watch tons of trash. As I type this, I’m looking at my collector’s edition DVD set of Under the Dome. It’s garbage. Truly truly terrible. But there are scenes I liked. Shots I liked. It was made by people who were bad at what they do, but they were still creative. There’s this one episode where the government tries to blow up the dome, and everyone inside thinks they’re going to die. All the characters, thinking they have minutes left on earth, all finally do something. The plot unravels into something much, much, much simpler, as all the characters stop lying or trying to hide their motives. Everything untangles for just a moment, and after they survive the blast unharmed, it leaves the question what next? Sure, the conflicts were childish and silly, and the character arcs were (to put it nicely) poorly handled. But they tried to do something well, and for just a moment they struck gold. There’s nothing like that in Brightburn. There’s not a single scene that I can look at in the movie and say you’re on to something there. Keep working. If I were given the script and a blank check and told to write a better one, I would strip it down to the foundation. I wouldn’t rewrite it, I would delete everything except the core premise and start over.

It just really really hurts, having to type out that this movie was worse than Under the Dome.

I know it’s too late to convince anyone not to see Brightburn. And that’s fine. Sometimes the world moves too fast for you to make a change. But I just want you to know deep down how much I hate that movie. I resent it for wasting my time, my energy, and my money. It’s worse than Days of our Lives.

Fuck you, Brightburn.

Thank you for reading. It means a lot to me.

#brightburn #horror #superhero #movies #the end #fuck this movie

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