#you can focus on one enemy because I’ll protect you from the other

[jellie-the-aqua-puma]

If Ichigo and Uryu do not tag team Yiwach at least once whenever they fight him, because I know they will both at least have to 1v1 him each, even if they get the floor swept from underneath them, then I don’t want it.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

your love is king [könig x f!reader]

▸pairing: könig x f!reader

▸words: 3,306

▸warnings: porn with some plot, size kink, praise kink, spitting, unprotected sex, switch!könig, some dirty talk, oral sex, talk of killing enemies while fucking, our big boy has STAMINA, he just doesn't stop.

▸summary: you are kind of annoyed when you find out you have to work with a man that calls himself 'king', but soon you find that you can't stop calling him that yourself.

▸a/n: i dunno. i'm horny for the big boy. sue me.

[CoD masterlist]

“You hear about that new fella from KorTac we’re supposed to workin’ with?” Gaz asked as he took a seat beside you in the briefing room. Price stood at the head of the table, looking at paperwork.

“Yeah, I reckon that’s what this little meeting is all about. He’s a great sniper, supposedly,” you said, unconvinced.

“Listen up,” Price finally said. “I’m speaking to you two before König comes in because I know how you can be.”

“König? The man calls himself king?” You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, can’t wait to meet this one.”

“Sergeant,” the captain warned.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“You speak German?” Gaz asked you.

“Not much, but—”

“Would you two focus?” Price huffed. “You two will be nice to our guest, won’t you? Especially you.” He pointed at you. “You’ll be working with him the most.”

“What?” You sat up defiantly. “I’m a sniper. Why do I have to work with another?” you complained.

“You’ll do it because I’m telling you to,” the captain said, and you made a face as Gaz chuckled.

“Good luck with your king,” he teased. You were about to punch him on the arm when the door opened, and Price hushed you both.

A hulk of a man ducked his head to walk through the door, and you were stunned into silence.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Gaz said beside you.

“Screaming Jesus,” you whispered.

“Gaz, Sergeant, this is König,” Price introduced. Now that you’ve seen his size, you can see why he called himself King.

“You’re a sniper?” you asked. His sheer size would give him away.

“Yes,” he said in accented English.

That was the only thing you could ask him right now. You surveyed him with your eyes. He seemed flustered by all the attention, wringing his hands nervously.

“That’ll be your partner.” The captain nodded to you, and you lifted your hand awkwardly. You were practically gawking at him. You stood slowly and walked over to him, feeling smaller with each step.

“Nice to meet you.” You held your hand out to him, and he took it in a gentle grip. You looked up into his eyes which were also soft.

“The pleasure is mine, ma’am.” He kept shaking your hand until you cleared your throat. “Entschuldige…”

“It’s okay,” you responded, and he looked at you with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

“Sprichst du Deutsch?” he asked.

“Ich spreche nur ein Wenig Deutsch,” you said, holding up your thumb and forefinger to show him how little German you could speak. That little bit of German you spoke seemed to put him at ease.

“I guess I’ll show you around, König,” you offered.

“Yes. Okay.” He waited for you to walk so he could follow.

He was so silent beside you that it was almost scary.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you asked.

“I don’t want to annoy you or anything, ma’am,” he said softly.

“You won’t, and you don’t have to call me ma’am. Same rank and all. So…have you always been a sniper?” you asked.

“No. Not many people believed I could be.”

“No offense, but it’s easy to see why. I don’t think I’ve seen a sniper as big as you. Hell, I don’t think I’ve seen a man as big as you. Ever.” You blinked up at him.

Could you not let your size kink peek through for just one second?

“My size intimidates people, so it comes in handy,” he told you.

“Well, I think you’re a gentle giant, my friend.”

A gentle giant he was and had stayed—towards you and the others he worked with, at least. He was a beast of a man when it came to enemies and protecting you. You knew the glint in his eyes when you saw it. There were times when even you had to calm him down.

“König, look at me,” you’d say, and he’d focus only on you, his green gaze softening almost immediately. “There you are.”

“You’re hurt,” he said, pointing at the blood dripping from your hand.

“Nothing a few bandages won’t fix.”

“I will fix it,” he offered.

“It’s not a big deal, re—”

“Sit,” he demanded in a gruff voice, and you sat. It was nice to have some quiet after all the shooting you had done earlier. You two were in one of the safe houses now.

“So bossy,” you joked.

“You should know me by now, meine Freundin. I do not like seeing you hurt.” He knelt in front of you. You only smiled and watched how efficiently he moved, his big hands gentler than any you had ever been touched by.

“It’s only a scra—AH!” you yelped as he cleaned the wound with antiseptic.

“Only a scratch, hm?” He tore the bandage open with his teeth, letting out a little growl. You shifted in the chair noticeably.

“Don’t move so much,” he scolded.

“Sorry.”

He was meticulous in his bandaging so that it was neat and kept the wound clean.

“There. You take it easy with that hand,” he told you.

“No promises.” You smiled. “Thanks.”

“Bitte.” He stayed kneeling in front of you.

“What do you look like under there?” you asked, tilting your head and looking into his eyes.

“I am hideous,” he joked.

You giggled. “Or perhaps it’s the opposite. You’re too handsome, so you must hide your face to stop everyone from going mad over your beauty.”

“If beauty made people go mad, you would certainly have to cover your face. For you would drive even the most emotionless of men insane,” he said, and you had never heard anything more romantic in your life.

“König…you’re a romantic,” you said.

“Don’t.” He stood up, and you knew you had made him blush.

“No, really. That was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Well, I meant it. You are…beautiful.” He walked away and sat down at the small table.

“Do I make you nervous?” you asked without looking at him.

“Nein…well, sometimes.” He was happy you weren’t looking at him. He felt as though he could speak his mind that way. “Only because I have come to like you so much, but I am afraid to act on it because if something happens, then….”

“I like you too, König,” you confessed.

“You’ve never seen my face,” he started.

“I don’t have to see your face to like you.”

“Who’s romantic now?” he joked, and you finally looked at him over your shoulder. “Come.” He beckoned you with his fingers.

“What’s up?”

“Sit here.” He tapped the table in front of him, and you looked at him, confused. “Just do it.”

“Fine.” You hopped up on the table.

“Now, close your eyes.” He waited until he was sure they were closed before taking your wrists and bringing your hands under his sniper hood to his face.

“Now you can see me,” he said, and you nearly cried. You used your fingers to see him—his brow, cheekbones, nose, lips, and a few scars.

“König…”

“What is the verdict? Am I hideous?” he asked.

“I think you’re beautiful,” you said, hoping that word didn’t offend him. His breath hitched, and you almost moved your hands away until he grabbed them and placed a kiss on both palms.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said. “For trusting me.”

“I trust you with my life.” You both stared at each other for a moment before he stood too quickly. “I am going to shower,” he told you.

“Um, okay. I’ll do the same. I mean…after you, of course!” You were all flustered over this man.

Your body heated up just hearing the shower come on. You could hear him moving around and knew he was undressing.

“Stop,” you whispered to yourself.

You heard the shower turn off about ten minutes later, and König cleared his throat. Then he was whistling a tune you had never heard before.

You turned away from the hall as the bathroom door opened, but then your head turned slowly, and you were met with the hulking man in nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips.

“I’m finished,” he said.

From what you could see, his chest had only a speckling of hair. Then there was his stomach, which was toned but not exactly muscular. It had a happy trail that disappeared under the towel. You wet your lips quickly as you heard a door close and realized he had gone into one of the rooms to dress.

As you showered, you thought back to König and his sheer size—everything about him was big, and you loved that. You told yourself that your hand was only moving between your legs so you could wash yourself, but you still touched yourself there even after you did.

“Fuck,” you whimpered just as König was walking by the door. He knew he should keep walking, but he didn’t. He listened as you got off.

“Yes, König,” you moaned, and his eyes widened. He moved away from the door and walked back into one of the bedrooms.

A few moments later, he heard the shower turn off. He would try to act as normal as possible, but he knew it would be almost as hard as he was right now.

The door opened, and you stepped out with a towel wrapped around your body.

“H-How was it?” he asked.

“It was nice.” You noticed that he changed into a different sort of mask instead of the sniper hood. It looked more comfortable.

You smiled before slipping into the other bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind you, you leaned against it breathing heavily.

You quickly put on something comfortable and stepped back out of the room.

“I’m going to make some tea. Would you like some?” you asked.

“Yes, please.”

He followed you to the small kitchen. There was an awkward silence as you waited to pull the kettle off the stove before it whistled.

“Do you mind grabbing the cups? I think they’re in that cabinet,” you told him, and he stood quickly to help.

“Here?” he asked as he reached over and above you. His shirt pulled up, and you found yourself staring at his happy trail then you looked up at him. He was staring back.

“I-I’ve found them,” he told you.

“Yes.” You swallowed hard.

“Ich will dich,” he gasped.

“You can have me, König…my King.”

He pulled his mask up quickly and kissed you, taking the very breath you just took away. But that was okay because he was breathing life right back into you.

“Finally,” you moaned. “Fucking finally.” You pressed your lips to his, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” he asked, cupping your face. You nodded and tried to move in for another kiss, but he held you still. “Tell me.”

“I want you. I want you so bad. Please take me. Right here, right now.” You put your hands on his chest. “And I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Fuck.” He kissed you hard. “Will you be loud for me?”

“Yes, as long as you’re loud for me.”

“I will shout your name to the high heavens,” he told you.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked as he sat you on the kitchen counter. “I touched myself in the shower thinking of you.”

“I know.”

You were about to ask how he knew, but he tore your shirt open at that moment, revealing your breasts.

“Impatient,” you teased.

“You wear the shirt…with no bra…I could see your nipples right through it.” He stared at your breasts before using his big hands to grab both and push them together. Then his mouth was on them—lips, tongue, teeth, he was using them all on your nipples.

You reached down and slid your hand under the waistband of his pants. You found him hard already, but you knew you could get him harder.

“How are you going to fit, my King?” you asked, and his hips bucked into your hand.

“We will find a way,” he promised. “I will spread you open…make a path just for me.” He pushed you back gently so that you were leaning on your elbows on the counter. He tapped your thigh, and you lifted your hips so he could get your bottoms off.

“I knew it was beautiful,” he said, staring hungrily at your cunt. “It will eat me alive, but not before I taste it.” He fell to his knees and wasted no time getting his tongue on you. He moaned loudly as he slurped and smacked his lips on you greedily, making the most obnoxious but delicious sounds ever.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and pulled until he released it with a pop. You were close already.

“Here.” He held his fingers up to you, and you took them into your mouth as he continued devouring you. “Get them wetter.”

You let your saliva drip down onto the digits, and he groaned against you before pulling them out of your mouth and slipping them into your pussy. He pulled away to watch the push and pull of your pussy on his fingers.

“She is greedy,” he murmured, resting his head on your thigh. “She doesn’t want to let me go.”

“You’re gonna make me cum, König,” you whined.

“I’ve dreamt of hearing those words. Please, let me feel you; let me hear you.”

You held onto his wrist as he pumped his fingers faster, as his thumb rubbed your clit.

“König, König, oh my fucking God!” Your toes curled as you came around his fingers. He grunted and groaned at the feeling. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from you, staring at the slick mess you left on him. He pulled his fingers apart to watch how your juices stretched between them, then reached down to stroke himself with them.

“I need you to spit on it,” he said.

You sat up and looked down. He stopped stroking for a moment, grabbing you by your hair as you gathered the spit in your mouth, then let it drip from your lips, sticking out your tongue to make sure it all came out.

“Braves Mädchen,” he said. Good girl. You leaned back again. “Spread yourself open for me.”

You slid a hand between your legs and used your pointer and middle fingers to spread your lips for him. He groaned before spitting on your pussy and pushing against your entrance.

You bit your lip and moaned, craning your neck to watch him make his way inside you.

“Oh, fuck! You’re stretching me so good.” Your mouth dropped open as he pushed in more and more, his cock disappearing inch by inch.

“I’m not sure I will last long inside of you,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then fuck me now. Please, my King.”

With those words, he slammed the rest of his way in, and you cried out, one hand against his stomach.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you whimpered.

He let out a growl as he began fiercely pound away at you. He was surprised you were handling him so well. He looked down and nearly came at seeing your pussy taking every inch of him.

“You are mine!” he grunted loudly, pinching a nipple and twisting it.

“Yours!” you cried out. You started to worry that maybe you both were too loud and an enemy would find you. “König, are we too loud?”

“No,” he said before pulling out of you and turning you around. Then he slammed into you from behind. “And even if we are…” he began, stopping to fuck slam his hips against your ass a few times.

“Even if we are….” He turned you toward the door. “…if they come in here, I would still stay buried to the hilt in you as I killed every one of them. Bang! Bang! Bang!” His thrusts matched his words.

That turned you on more than you could imagine. Your back was arched as he held you up to stand as straight as possible while he fucked you from behind. He moved one hand up and around your neck while the other slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit and pinching it.

It didn’t take long for you to fall over the edge again. Your knees gave out as you came, but he held you with strong arms.

He was getting closer. His thrusts became messier, and his hand tightened around your neck.

“Would you like me to cum inside you?” he asked. His thighs were trembling now as if he was holding himself from cumming.

“Yes!”

“Tell me!” he grunted. He punctuated each thrust with a groan that got louder and louder each time.

“Cum inside of me, König.”

“Again,” he growled. “Fuck, fuuuuuuuck…call me…call me your King.”

“Cum inside of me, my King.”

“I will. I will. Right now!” He turned you around quickly and let go of your neck so that you could brace yourself on the kitchen counter. He used both hands to grip your hips, and tears spilled from your eyes.

“Here it comes, Liebe…AHHHHHHHH!” he shouted as he began filling you. He threw his head back and screamed your name to the high heavens like he said he would. He filled you more with each hard thrust.

“Uh! Uh! Uhhhh!” he growled as he completely emptied himself inside you. “I can’t stop…it has been so long…”

“Give me…all of it.” You wiggled your ass on him and pushed back against him, making him hiss. “You’re already leaking out of me,” you said when you looked down at the floor.

He looked down and saw what you meant. It made him throb inside you.

“Not as shy as I thought you were, big boy,” you said, turning your head to kiss him.

After a hot shower, you both were wrapped up in each other in bed. He somehow stayed hard against you but didn’t try anything.

“I want to go again,” he said with a sheepish laugh.

“I can tell.” You pushed him onto his back and straddled him. You licked your hand and stroked him a few times before lowering yourself onto him.

“Fuck! I hope you know you have the loveliest cock ever,” you told him, and he throbbed inside you. “Oh, you like that, huh?”

Someone had a praise kink.

“Is that why you like it when I call you my King?” you asked as you swirled your hips on him. “My King with the perfect cock. Stretching me so good.”

“I-I can’t…ah….”

“You’re so fucking good, König. You make me cum so hard.” You brought a hand up to his neck, and he whimpered. “Mmm.”

You bounced your ass on him, and he held your hips tightly.

“Fuck me,” he moaned. “Fuck your King.”

“You’re gonna get me addicted to fucking this cock,” you told him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Next time, I want it in my mouth….” You leaned in so that you could whisper in his ear. “Down my throat. I want you to make me gag.”

“Don’t stop,” he whined. You had never heard his voice at such a high pitch.

“My good boy. My handsome, beautiful boy.”

His mouth dropped open, and his eyes rolled back as he held you still and came inside you again.

“Mmm, atta boy. Fill my pussy. Make it yours. That’s it.”

Suddenly, he rolled you over, and you yelped before giggling.

“You are too much for me,” he said.

“Am I?”

“No. I didn’t mean it,” he corrected quickly. “You are just enough. I think I have met my match.”

“And I have met mine.”

[tenderleavesbob]

Whumptober 11/31

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

“Hyrule!” Wind gasped. He lunged forward and barely caught the other boy before he hit the ground. Hyrule was completely limp in Wind’s hands and heavy. Wind whispered comforting words under his breath as he dragged Hyrule to where Time was already stretched out.

“Hyrule, what’s wrong?” Wind asked but he didn’t wait for an answer. He checked Hyrule’s breathing and pulse like Warriors taught him. Then he grabbed a blanket and a pillow from his bag and made Hyrule comfortable like his grandma had taught him. After a moment’s thought, he did the same with Time. Time was far heavier than Hyrule, but Wind managed.

They were both okay, Wind told himself. He sat by their heads and kept his sword in his lap. He stared at the mess scattered throughout the room: Time’s destroyed armor, the bits of slime splattered everywhere, the chunks of blackened rock. Hyrule’s spell was horrifying and if it hadn’t been followed by Hyrule collapsing, Wind would have thought it was fantastic. Now Wind bit the inside of his cheek and tucked the blanket a little more securely around Hyrule.

“You guys will be okay,” Wind whispered. “You two just need rest. You’ll be okay.”

Neither answered. Wind hunched his shoulders and looked at the remains of the monsters. The others left because they thought this room was safe. This room was supposed to be safe. Really, they should all know better by now.

Wind couldn’t help himself from checking the pair again. They both seemed deeply asleep, Time exhausted from pain and shock, Hyrule exhausted from overexertion. Sleep was the best healer, Wind’s grandma always told him. No matter how much Wind preferred at least one of them awake with him, it was better for them both to rest.

“I can do this,” Wind said. His voice sounded too loud in the quiet room. He flinched but plunged on. “I can do this. I’ll keep you guys safe. Just rest.”

The hilt of his sword felt familiar in his hand but didn’t provide comfort. The room was cold, but Wind’s grip was damp with sweat, anyway. Wind clenched his jaw and raised his chin.

Wind knew what some of the others thought of him. Even the ones who knew better treated him like a child sometimes. Warriors and sometimes Twilight could get away with it. Sometimes, those two needed someone to act as a little brother to them to give them comfort. Wind was fine with that, but it infuriated him when the others looked at him and only saw a child. He had sailed the high seas! He had saved his sister! He had stabbed Ganondorf in the head!

Wind could sit in this empty room now and protect his brothers. Wind huffed and straightened his spine. The last attack proved the enemies could come from anywhere. Next time, they might not give as much warning, so Wind needed to remain alert until either his other brothers returned or Time and Hyrule woke up.

Everything was quiet. All Wind could hear was the soft breaths of his sleeping brothers. Warriors hadn’t made a noise when he vanished, Wind reminded himself.

Warriors…

Wind needed to focus. He rolled his tense shoulders and glared at the walls. The others would be fine. He needed to trust them, just like he needed them to trust him. Warriors would be fine, Wild would be fine, everyone would be fine.

Time and Hyrule would be fine.

Wind checked on Time and Hyrule again. Still sleeping peacefully. Still resting. How much time had passed so far? It felt like forever.

It hadn’t been that long, Wind told himself. Time always passed strangely in dungeons.

Did Warriors and Wild know that? Did they know about the trick walls and weird monsters? They were great but unfamiliar with dungeons.

Had Warriors fallen through a trap like Wild? Was that why he had vanished?

Time’s pale face waved and doubled in front of Wind. Wind sniffled and blinked, and only when a warm tear slid down his cool face did he realize he was crying. He rubbed his face with a snarl.

He hadn’t done anything so far to help his brothers. He hadn’t noticed Warriors vanishing until his brother was long gone. He hadn’t noticed Wild running off until it was too late. He hadn’t noticed the trap which hurt Time or done anything to help Hyrule when the monsters attacked. The least he could do was protect Hyrule and Time now without being a crybaby about it!

Wind scowled at the silent walls, daring them to do anything. He checked on Hyrule and Time, just like Warriors had taught him, and tucked them in a little tighter, just like his grandma had taught him.

When Wind gripped his sword and hovered over his brothers? Having a little sister taught him how to do that.

When the silence stretched on and tears burned his eyes again? Wind growled and forced it all back. His adventures had taught him how to do that.

“I’m a hero, too,” Wind told the room.

Nothing answered.

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[salty-croissants]

can you make some headcanons and/or imagine of rayman/ramon with an adoptive human! sister s/o (who used to be from another dimension before moving away to cl world dimension somewhere which is an unaffected good nation that didn't got ruined when she was a kid with her family (her mom, younger biological sister, and one of her female cousins), her pets, and her bunch of friends) after the last episode from season 1 (few moments after killing the broad directors), getting an heart warming reunion before successfuly escaping go get bullfrog out and then flee to the hideout where she shares with her bunch of dear friends who also joined the rebellion ;

like she finally got the accurate precious information about where her brother (rayman/ramon) is, after dolph called her in her smartphone and told y/n where he is and where he is heading to because he also got the information about the heck her bro went through thanks to the virtual realm thing and stuff and he needs to share this information and he also told that after reuniting with her adoptive brother she and him must go get bullfrog, quickly explains his situation and to her end the call before her smartphone may end up getting infected with virus before fighting the bad guys,

so after hearing this she turns off her phone (thankfull didn't got infected), grabbed her weapons, gas mask (modified to look like a bunny rabbit, with the addion of other tech gadgets like walkie talkie like features, night vision, and extra protection, an gas mask she and some of her friends made for him (with the same features from the inside but in the outside made to look like an fox) ((yes all of her friends and pets/familiars are wearing gas masks like this for good reasons)); after she killed all of the other bad guys in the building she comes to where ramon/raymon is laying on the table and before he could do anything, she pulls down her hoodie and shows her face and ray/ramon reconizes her.

((it's based on the concept of my cl timeline self-insert, look at the concept to you have an idea and even use some stuff as reference, in the messages; sorry if it got long))

Thank you for the request !

I really hope I got everything right , there was quite a lot of information to keep track of with this one ;C;👍

This is also my first ever more platonic request , which is pretty neat ! :D

Details : use of female reader ; 

reader is Rayman’s adoptive sister ; 

presence of mild swearing and blood 

< … did you get all that , y/n ? 

You better , cause I don’t have much time left to explain . > 

< Yeah yeah , I got it ! 

It’s just … I can’t believe I’m actually going to see him again … > 

< Stop . I need you to focus now .

You grab your brother , free Bullfrog and get the hell out of there immediately .

I won’t be able to be there with these assholes in the way , so you’re on your own from now … 

I’ll see you when this is all ov - > 

With that abrupt end to Dolph’s call , you remained completely alone 

You took a deep breath , your heart pounding in your chest as you walked forward in the corridor , leaving behind the bodies of the Eden security guards that were unfortunate enough to cross you .

It hadn’t been easy to get that far into the building the Board of Directors used as their headquarters , the many bruises that had cut through your clothes and gas mask were proof of that … 

However , it was all going to be worth it to be reunited with your long lost brother .

How many years had it been since you last got to talk to Rayman before they took him from you ? 

Four ? 

No , maybe even five …

The only way you could see him was when his show aired on tv , and while you were happy to see that he seemed to be alright , the fact that he had become the face of the very thing you and your friends were fighting so hard against broke your heart …

Did that mean that you were enemies now ? 

Was he even going to be happy to see you , or remember who you were … ? 

You shook your head , trying to keep those awful thoughts from tormenting your mind .

Even if Rayman were to regard you as a “terrorist” , you weren’t going to let the Directors or anyone else hurt him , and that was all that mattered .

It only took a few more steps to reach the door that lead to the Director’s room , the place where Rayman was supposed to be in from what Dolph had told you before the beginning of that mission , and when you finally found the courage to open it you found yourself staring at a rather grim sight : 

the all powerful Directors , the ones who had everyone’s lives in the palm of their hands for years , were all laying dead on the table and the floor , their blood painting the otherwise pristine room in a bright crimson , and …

Hang on , was there someone else laying down on that table ?

Could it really be … ? 

< Ray ? > 

As soon as he heard your voice , he immediately jolted up , his breathing heavy as he reached for his guns .

< Who … who the hell are you ? Don’t come any closer ! > 

You sounded strangely familiar to the now ex Eden star … but he knew that it wouldn’t be possible for that very special person to be there . 

It just … it couldn’t be . 

Your eyes widened when you took a better look at your brother : 

he looked so … different …

You had never seen that spark of fury in his eyes , and that was without mentioning his appearance .

Before things could escalate for the worst , you grabbed the mask you were wearing with shaky hands , slowly removing it and revealing your face .

A moment of shocked silence followed , before he jumped down from the table , his eyes never leaving yours as he approached … 

< y/n … ? > 

, he whispered , almost like he was afraid to even speak .

< Oh Ray , I missed you so much ! > 

When you leaned forward to hug him , giving him confirmation that you were actually real and not just a part of his imagination , it was the moment that he finally snapped :

He clutched you tightly , the weight of everything that he had been through that day mixing with the relief of having found you again , after years of not being able to even know if you were okay .

You could hear him sob next to your shoulder …

< I can’t believe … I can’t believe that it’s you , y/n … all this time , I thought … I thought  I’d never see you again … > 

After a few more minutes of much needed crying , the two of you finally pulled away from each other , so happy about being back together that you almost forgot the gravity of your current situation . 

< But … how did you get here ? > 

< It’s kind of a long story , but to cut it short I’ve been working against Eden with a few others , and when Dolph told me you were here I had to come Ray … I had to make sure you were okay . > 

You could see your brother trying to process everything he was hearing , that you were allies with Dolph Laserhawk one of the people he had considered a terrorist just a few days prior … but he visibly flinched a little as you mentioned his old name .

< I see , well it’s thanks to him if we got to reunite then … heh , today’s been one hell of a crazy day .

Though … I gotta ask you to call me Ramon now . 

I don’t wanna go by my old name anymore … reminds me of all the damage I’ve caused and the lies these bastards made me spread . > 

You nodded in response , your gaze softening as you wondered just how awful he probably felt when finding the truth about Eden …

It must’ve been a real hard time for him , which reminded you of the other reason you were there on that mission . 

< Okay , look … I know you’ve already been through a lot today , but I need to set Bullfrog free before they execute him , and I … can’t do it alone . > 

Before you could finish your sentence , Ramon had already begun to pick up his guns from were he left them without hesitation …

< I got your back y/n .

Bullfrog is the reason why I know what Eden has done … I gotta repay the favor . > 

When the both of you walked out of the room , ready for your rescue mission , you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy at the thought of having your brother by your side :

this time , nothing was going to take him away from you … you would’ve made sure of that . 

[nixie-writes]

Beelzebub x brother reader - "why don't you party?"

This is a commission for the lovely @thebattlecats2001 No trigger warnings really but this is under the cut for length. Enjoy!

“I’ll clutch the 3v1, just focus on getting med kits,” you informed your online friend as you mashed buttons on your controller, fighting three other players alone. It was intense; you chugged down a can of Mountain Dew in record time and prepared to do your final move to win the game. You were about to do it when a knock at the door interrupted your session. Losing your focus one of the enemies killed you. Throwing your controller on the bed in anger you went to answer the door. 

“Hi little bro! Playing games as usual?” Your ever-popular sister, Beelzebub, welcomed herself into your room, her wings fluttering as she looked around. “Jeez, this place is a mess. I’ll have a maid clean it for you.” You rubbed your temple with your hand in agitation. “What do you want?” You asked her in an aggravated voice. She either took no notice or didn’t care about your angry voice, as her excitement didn’t damper. “I’m hosting a party tonight and I managed to steal Belphagor’s drugs, wanna come?” She invited excitedly, her wings buzzing hopefully. You sighed. As much as you loved your sister, you couldn’t stand her parties. You much preferred to be alone or play online with your friends, who didn’t know you were related to royalty. 

“Sorry Bee, you know how I am. Social anxiety and all. Invite me to the next one,” you told her, showing her to the door. Her wings drooped in disappointment. “Aw, come on! You say that every time! It’s always ‘invite me to the next one’ or ‘we’ll see about next time’ just come to one! Maybe you’ll change your mind. Please?” She used her puppy dog eyes on you; you rolled your eyes. “No Bee, I’m staying inside. But you have fun.” You gently nudged her out of your room and shut the door, ensuring to lock it so she wouldn’t come back in. Sighing, you walked back to your computer. You hated turning down your sister but you refused to visit one of her parties. It was always chugging Beelzajuice and snorting drugs. You’d rather watch HellTube with your friends and drink a few beers by your lonesome. 

***

It was three hours after Bee had left your room; all your online friends were asleep or doing their own things and you were bored. You’d already skimmed through a few comic books and played a few games but nothing eased your boredom and, well, loneliness. You missed your sister. She was always throwing parties and inviting demons from across the rings to join. Why couldn’t she have just one decent party with a few close friends and just have some food and non alcoholic drinks? It felt unfair that she spent more time with demons who only liked her because she gave them free alcohol and drugs than she did spend time with you. But there was nothing that could be done about it. Sighing, you climbed into bed. 

You were jerked awake by a small crash. You didn’t even know you’d fallen asleep, but the clock showed 3 in the morning. You stood up to investigate, taking a flashlight and a stick for protection. Demons liked to break in to steal booze or drugs. You descended the stairs from your room and found a group of Hellhounds in your living room, drinking it up and cheering as Bee herself chugged as much Beezaljuice as she could in one breath. She drank a surprising amount before stopping and the Hellhounds cheered. You just stared at the scene before you, more disappointed than shocked. Bee caught a glimpse of you and grabbed you by the arm, thrusting you forward.

“Hey my beautiful bitches, this is my brother [Y/N]! Show him some love!” The hounds all howled to the ceiling as a greeting and you sighed, waving your hand. “Bro-bro, you finally came down to join the party?” Bee asked you. You shook your head firmly in response. “I heard a crash and came down to investigate but it seems you have this under control so I’m just gonna…Head back upstairs.” You backed away from the hounds and your sister, only to bump into solid fluff. Turning around you were met with your sister’s boyfriend, Vortex. 

“You’re not really gonna miss out on this, are you? Bee’s private party?” He grabbed you in a headlock and ruffled your hair and you chuckled, trying to pull yourself free. He was like a big brother to you - always there when you needed him, always up for a good game and always delivering on the good food. Though you were protective of your sister, you trusted her with Vortex. He seemed honest and trustworthy. 

“Sorry but, I'm tired and I’d rather get some sleep,” you told Vortex. He just shrugged. “Alright but you’ll miss out on the pizza,” he warned. You snorted and looked at your sister. “Save me a few slices for breakfast tomorrow!” You called out to her and she gave a thumbs up. Smiling a little you ascended the stairs again, leaving your sister to her own devices. 

It must have been about 12 when you woke up. Your head was pounding and your vision was blurry, as if you’d had a bad hangover, though you hadn’t drank at all. Crawling out of bed like a gremlin you mustered the energy to go to the kitchen. You made a cup of coffee and checked the fridge. As promised, Bee left four slices of pizza for you. Pulling out the bag you arranged the pizza slices on a plate and stuck it in the microwave. While you waited for the minute to pass you looked around the kitchen. The dishes were starting to pile up, you’d have to do them today. Taking a sip of your hot coffee you closed your eyes, breathing in the aroma. It was calming in a way. THe added vanilla creamer was soothing and tasted wonderful. 

You were jerked out of your coffee daydreams by the beeping of the microwave. Turning to it, coffee in hand, you opened the microwave and pulled out your pizza. Blowing on it to cool it off you took a bite. It was hot but you swallowed it. You took your plate and coffee to your room up the stairs. Sitting in your chair, setting down your food and drink, you checked your friends list. No one was online. Oh well, they had lives to live too. 

Turning on a gaming video on HellTube you kicked back, watching your video and eating your pizza and drinking your coffee. It was peaceful like this. No loud music, no shouting, just the ambiance of birds outside twittering and watching HellTube alone with some food and coffee. It couldn’t get much better than this. 

Of course, that silence was broken soon after by your sister, Bee, entering your room. “That was one hell of a party! Fuck!” She stated, her wings buzzing excitedly. “You should have been there! We played spin the bottle and it landed on Vortex and he dared me to dance to some shitty song. That party was great!”

You paused your video, smiling at her. “I’m glad you had a good time but parties just aren’t for me. You know I’m socially anxious and I don’t get along well with a lot of people.” Bee hummed. “Well that’s true but you get along well with Vortex. What if I set up a party for just you two?” You shook your head. “No Bee, I’m not interested in parties, but thank you.” Bee slumped her shoulders, having given up. “Alright fine, but I swear one day I’m gonna get you to party!” She stated before leaving, her wings buzzing. You rolled your eyes and continued your video. You were happy like this - just doing your own thing, while she did her own thing. It was easy like this. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[alexanderlightweight]

hello! can you share the name/link of that fanfiction you mentioned where alec is the institute?

omg I am so, so sorry I have not finished writing it yet. i dont even have a name it's Insitute!alec in my drives. It was actually one of the projects I was working on before i had to take a hiatus for health etc and i was just talking about it

but i did not make that clear so here!! my reply took a while cause I finished a few prompts and then i went and finished the first chapter just for you! because i do love this fic and i'm so excited someone is interested in it!

so first chapter of my unnamed Alec is the Institute fic (you're not actually supposed to know that yet so it's written kind of sneaky).

--

Raphael sits in the basement cells of the New York Institute, he shivers despite the fact that he can’t actually feel the cold.  He knew it was a risk to bring Simon’s body here to the Institute. But while he is limited in his power to act directly against Camille, he had felt it his duty to deliver the mundane boy’s body to his friends.  

And if, it eased his mind a bit, that Simon’s nephilim friend Clary would be there to comfort Simon’s mother, then that was a boon for him alone.  To know that at least one mother did not have to mourn in confused pain the disappearance of her son.  

Raphael closes his eyes, stretching out his senses only to hit the chilled wards of angelic magic that hiss against him.  It is strange, to be so cut off from the world, but despite the danger involved it is an almost relaxing sensation.  To be cut off from all his extra senses and just exist for a moment.  True, he would enjoy it more if the fear of angelic torture didn’t linger over his head, but Raphael takes what he can, where he can.

It’s therefore a shock to him, to open his eyes and see a figure watching him.  The cell he is in is brightly lit, but the halls around it are dim with shadows and it takes a moment for him to focus.  

He’s tall, the shadowhunter who watches him.  Tall and broad with dark features that watch him with a relaxed air.

This one is more dangerous, Raphael realizes, than any of the other nephilim he’d met that day.

“Downworlder magic is an interesting thing,” the shadowhunter says, without introduction or warning.  “Nephilim magic is more limited, requiring blessed conduits to be of use.  Warlocks however, their abilities are only limited by their individual knowledge and power.”

Raphael stays silent, wondering exactly where the shadowhunter is going with this.

“The High Warlock of Brooklyn put my wards up himself, a beautiful piece of magic.”  The shadowhunter continues, “New York has one of the most defensible Institutes in the world.  The only fault I’ve ever found with Bane’s work is his tendency to sign it.” The man takes another step forward and Raphael sees the vibrant blue lines of angelic power, active in his eyes.   “Imagine my surprise when I read through the reports only to find that not only do we have a guest, but one who is very clearly under the High Warlock’s protection.”  

Raphael stiffens.  That is... the shadowhunter is not wrong.  But that is a secret.  Nephilim shouldn’t be able to see that, regardless of what runes the man has active.

There is a wry, almost exasperated curl of the shadowhunter’s lip, “sadly, I was less surprised to see that not only were you not processed but that there is absolutely no crime you have committed that warranted you being thrown in here.”

“The mundane—” Raphael starts, before pursing his lips.  He hardly wants to give the man a reason to keep him there.

“You were not the one who killed him. You were the one who brought his body back. It’s a rare thing, even my shadowhunters wouldn’t have risked such a deed on enemy territory.” The shadowhunter pauses and looks him over, “it’s an honorable deed and my people have reacted with dishonor.”

“Your people?” Raphael asks warily as the shadowhunter

“Alec Lightwood, I’m their Commander. I’ll be punishing them all, they had no jurisdiction and no permission.” And Lightwood has a stele out, one that he’s using to unlock Raphael’s cell doors. 

No alarms ring, no wards come on. No shadowhunters popping out to accuse him of escape.  The halls are eerily empty as he’s like deep underground and to a tunnel. Lightwood is fearless, back easily turned and Raphael feels fear at how casual he is. Sometimes it feels as if the walls and the very floors they are walking on are shifting, changing where they’re going.  

And then he’s being led up and up again and a small door opens and Raphael stares. He’s at the boundary line of the Institute, far away from the entrance and closest to the direction of the Hotel Dumort.

It’s a straight shot from here, more than enough for him to get back in time for the sun and without seeing a single of the ungrateful shadowhunters who had locked him up.

Raphael doesn’t say thank you. Lightwood was right, his shadowhunters acted dishonorably and what Raphael did was dangerous for himself. He does stop though and nod, just a quick little flash of a thing and then he’s gone.

—

Alec sighs as he watches the vampire leave.  This is going to cause problems, the least of which will be Isabelle, Jace and their new pet project.  He sighs again, shaking his head as he shuts and bars the door, watching it meld back into stone.  The way will close behind Santiago, as though it never existed.  He doubts the vampire would be so crass as to try and betray Alec by exposing the passage, but there is no need to be careless.

With that in mind he prepares himself, mentally going through the reports — and the lack of reports — from the last few days. 

Clary Fray is a disaster. 

He would be lenient except she has now expressly betrayed everything the Institute stands for, as well as put the lives of his shadowhunters in jeopardy.  Both with the downworld and with the clave. 

Raphael Santaigo had done them a boon.  To shackle him away was a disservice to both his actions and the future.  It is a relief that Alec caught it in time and eased the situation.

Now, to deal with the mundane.

It is worse than he’d thought.

The mundane is buried, a chance at a new life as one of the undead. Alec doesn’t have a problem with this, except for the fact that they’ve effectively chased off the only vampiric mentor they’d had around. Or perhaps the plan was to keep him locked up until they needed him.

It takes him a moment to reign in his anger and then he’s effectively cutting off whatever sentiment he holds for Jace and Isabelle.  He allows himself a certain amount of it, a degree of emotionality that most would consider extreme for someone of his capabilities. 

Now he gathers his power, wields his authority like a gavel and summons them. All of them and he puts them each in an isolation cell, where they will stay long past when Fray’s friend will be reborn.

Fray has no defense against his orders, especially not when Jace and Isabelle bend to his will.  

They don’t like it, but they heed it.  They have no other choice.

It won’t take much longer for Alec to be done with them and they know it. If Alec decides to ship their asses to Idris or even to Wrangle Isle, then it will happen.  It’s something Fray has yet to learn but Alec doesn’t care if it makes him cruel, one more mistake and he’ll beat her down in front of the whole Institute. 

Again and again, until the lesson takes or he sends whats left of her to the clave to deal with.

It takes him longer than he likes to decide what to do next about the body buried and waiting to crawl out, what route to take.  When he finally decides hours later, he finds himself settled against the cold stone of a grave and wonders just how he ended up here.

Decades of life and yet still he finds himself unprepared for surprises such as this.  His duty is to his shadowhunters.  His power is finite beyond the territory of his walls and while he considers it part of his pact to maintain —  at the very least — a good relationship with the downworld, this goes beyond that.

It’s been years since he’s had to put himself in a place of vulnerability, of dealing with outside forces that he doesn’t quite understand.  

He hopes this is worth it.

“Lightwood,” Santiago’s voice comes from the shadows and Alec merely nods his head.  He was aware the moment the vampire crossed the boundary. 

“If he transitions, it may be more violent than you’re used to.”  Is all he says, the vampire steps closer, into the glow of the streetlamp and Alec notes he already looks better.  He’s fed then.  

Good.  

He’s going to need all his strength to deal with a fledgling, especially one in the throes of madness.

“I’ve handled newborns before.” Santiago’s voice is calm but wary, he doesn’t like this. Coming back to this place or seeing Alec again and Alec doesn’t blame him.

“And yet, I doubt you’ve ever had to deal with one like this.  Most people are smart enough not to create a cradle for a fledgling in hallowed ground.  His mind will be open, a raw wound and the consecrated and angelic power of this place won’t help.  You’ll need to be fast and careful.”

Santiago seems to take his words into due consideration before he nods and steps even closer, crouching to run his fingers through the fresh dirt of Simon’s grave.  Alec watches unblinking as the man gathers up a handful of the dirt and seals it into a small box.  He says nothing, Santiago doesn’t either.

Dawn approaches, a danger to the soft glow of warmth that he knows will soon come and Alec steps back as the fledgling crawls from his death-womb and arises into a new life.

His old one is dead.

—

Raphael murmurs prayers and curses alike under his breath as he wrestles with Simon.

The shadowhunter was right.

Simon is unlike any newborn he’s ever helped birth. He’s feral and incandescent in his raw agony. He’s screaming not from hunger but from pain and Raphael pales even further than his corpse pallor when he realizes what Lightwood meant. Simon was buried in blessed ground, on the lines of an angelic core and he is suffering from the agony of being tortured as he was born.

“Help me!” Raphael demands without meaning to. He’s furious at himself for thinking a group of barely adult shadowhunter could properly take care of this.  He can’t believe who he thought was Simon’s friend would do this to him. To put him through this kind of agony.  

Simon is torn away from him, which isn’t what he meant and he feels a rush of fear before he realizes that there is calm.

Simon hangs limp but awake if not aware, terrified and trembling even though his heart doesn’t beat and his blood doesn’t flow. 

He’s not trying to bite Lightwood at all. 

Instead he’s got his mouth clamped shut so tight that not a fang pokes out.

“I suggest feeding him like this.” Lightwood says, calm and collected like he didn’t just subdue a newborn feral fledgeling with what is basically a hug.

Lightwood’s got Simon trapped to his chest, his arms wrapped tight so that Simon can’t use his own arms.

But Simon could kick and thrash or bite, but he’s not doing any of those things. So Raphael approaches slowly and he carefully opens a bottle instead of a pack.  Simon’s eyes light up with hunger but he doesn’t move, not a fang peeks out.

And Raphael realizes with horrified terror that Simon has reverted to nothing but instincts.

And currently, he is more afraid of the man holding him than his instincts can handle. Raphael carefully feeds Simon, barely able to get his mouth open and while he drinks greedily, eagerly and ravenously... he is still. He makes no noises, no growls or hisses, no lunging for the blood. Just trembling as he drinks and when Raphael deems him full enough, Lightwood drops him without warning and takes five steps back.

Simon lunges for Raphael and Raphael readies himself to finally fight, except Simon is already behind him, hands curled into Raphael’s jacket and still trembling.

“What is he?” Simon asks, whisper-soft and from their brief interactions, Raphael hadn’t thought Simon knew how to whisper. 

“A shadowhunter.” Raphael says because Simon has met shadowhunters before, just not while a vampire.

 Simon looks even more terrified. 

“You went up against a group of those guys, willingly?” he babbles, clearly in a panic and still consumed by fear. “Are you insane? I mean, I know Camille is but I didn’t think you were. How can you handle it, the way he feels? He smells so good but I couldn’t even think about it. Like if I tried, I’d be dead again. For good this time.”

Raphael doesn’t know what to say. Because that’s even stranger, that Simon felt such a great fear of Lightwood that he ignored the divine scent of angelic blood. Raphael had thought that maybe being born on the Institute land had made Simon immune to the song of nephilim blood.

Lightwood is watching them and Raphael suddenly feels like prey. 

“You need to leave.” They’re told, but it’s not a threat and Raphael realizes with terror that this is taking longer than he thought and it’s too near dawn. “Go here, there’s nothing much there but it will be dark and secure. My part is done here, he’s your problem now.”

“Wait, where’s Clary?” Simon is asking, “why, how am I a vampire? What’s even going on?”

Lightwood gives them both an unimpressed look and turns to Raphael and just says, “go.”

And Raphael goes, dragging Simon with him as he flees the coming sun and the cold, inhuman look in Lightwood’s eyes.  It’s never been more clear to him than in that moment that nephilim are truly, only half human.

[forever-eternal]

When you were talking about Loui headcannons you said one of the more magically inclined states, I think that implies there are more with magic

If so, who are these states?

Of course! I’ll have to explain what the States’/Personifications’ magic really is, first!

All Personifications have a little bit of magic, usually focused on their Do-Not-Notice-Me thing and their immediate environment (Emotions affecting temperature and overall mood of surrounding humans, things like that). Some of them have more magic, some have less, and no one really knows why.

The magic is stored partially within their blood, and they have a second ‘heart’ that stores and pumps the magick through their bloodstream. This ‘heart’ does not show up in X-Rays, nor when a State is cut open, and leaves no residue when a personification dies.

Loui is one of the States that is more magically inclined…though I suppose it’s better to say he’s one of the States with the most practice.

All States can do small things, like bringing a cup or the remote to them without getting up, several use it to help along with paperwork by filling their mugs or fetching a pen.

Loui has enough practice to do other things, such as spell casting, voodoo, and speaking to spirits.

Other States that are similar include:

Massachusetts, being the most practiced of all States. He can do a little bit of everything but enjoys doing things to inconvenience his enemies the most.

Oklahoma, just because I feel like it. His focus is on herbs and naturally grown remedies. So if you don’t want to take actual medicine, he’s got ya!

Oregon, he uses those healing/protection crystals and natural oils but they actually work. They work really well.

Nevada, she uses tarot cards and all the fun stuff people charge $30 for at carnivals or in back alleys. He’s the family psychic.

Robin and Adam. They change the land around them to better suit their needs (They don’t do it often and usually its minor. They don’t want to hurt the States!) They can move things around in their environment, either subtlety or really noticeable if they want to. They can turn something, like a pencil, into something else, a knife.

They see spirits if they actually focus on them (they’ve gotten used to them, honestly), and are living wards against evil, supernatural entities. They’ve also brought humans back from the dead on occasion!

Other personifications could do this sort of stuff too if they practiced, but most either don’t want to or don’t care all that much, while some want to learn but are afraid or don’t know where to start.

All in all, personifications are weird and Very Fun to think about. I want to squish them all like stress balls.

[theessenceofbeautyy]

RomanGerri Prompt Party 2024

Guidelines:

For those of you who have never participated in a prompt party you choose a number or a number is requested (depending on if you take asks) and you do the prompt that goes with that number. You can use multiple prompts for one fic and just because you see someone else use a prompt DOES NOT mean you can’t use the same one (a common misconception). All prompts are left up to your very own interpretation and you can use them at any time but when posting on Tumblr be sure to use the tag “RomanGerriPromptParty” so it’ll be easy to find. If this gets any participants I’ll add art and video edit prompts.

Prompts

One of them gets injured and the other has to take care of them.

Gerri as a sex therapist

Getting caught

PDA

Game Of Thrones AU

Gerri praise kink

Mother’s Day

Sharing body heat to stay alive

An "accidental" kiss

Gerri as a female knight and Roman as her Squire

Roman catches Gerri dancing around in the kitchen while making dinner

Person A hates celebrating their birthday but Person B finds out and does something special for them

Going shopping

Roman the handyman

Roman & Gerri get into a fight and have near death experience and angsty make up sex after (canon)

Gerri loses her memories, Roman must make her fall in love with him again

Lonely Roman paints/sculpts a picture a woman from his dreams and she comes to life

Roman & Gerri are professors at the same university, enemy-to-lovers

Gerri is Romans College professor, he can’t focus

Bedsharing

What if Logan hadn’t called (a universe where he got to lay her badly but gladly)

Roman is custodian of a cemetery and meets Gerri when she buries Baird and keep meeting as she mourns.

Roman is disguised as a priest and seeks shelter at a monastery where he meets novice Gerri

Person A is a member of the royal family. An assassination destroys their family, but Person A manages to escape and is believed to be dead. Person A finds out that their power-hungry relative (Person C) was behind the attack and wanted the throne for themself. While on the run, Person A meets Person B, who invites A to their camp. After finding out A's true identity, B and their friends agree to help A to stop Person C's tyranny so A can be crowned as the rightful king/queen

Roman buys a motorcycle

“Come inside” (wink wink) (or not)

Gerri and Roman are actors on the same Broadway show

Gerri is a neglected housewife, in comes Roman

Roman catches Gerri watching "Bridezilla" & "Say Yes to the Dress" and starts planning a secret wedding based on her commentary

Vampire AU

Drunk Gerri accidentally admits something really embarrassing

Soldier/Nurse AU

“Would you like to share the blanket?”

“We have to be quick”

Roman accidentally ingests viagra

Roman comes to bring Gerri lunch but finds her sexually frustrated

"This can never happen again" *happens again*

RomanGerri at a strip club

"I'm really angry at you but also really horny so can we press pause on this fight and fuck first?"

Jealous Gerri (when they aren't even together) and she gets all possessive, angry then takes matters into her own hands so they have a get together sex.

Gerri is a goddess of love. She is responsible to bring people together and help everyone find their true love. However, her fate is to be alone forever. Then she meets Roman and while he’s destined to be with Grace he goes against powers older than life on earth itself in order to be with her.

Drinking Game with 20 Questions

RomanGerri have sex in a library

Gerri being selfish in bed

Gerri’s hair is getting long. Roman is going insane.

Roman getting carried away during sexy times and telling Gerri he’s gonna put a baby in her, Gerri being confused because she’s literally in her 60s but going with it, they have a talk afterwards (crack prompt)

Roman is an assassin hired to kill Gerri but when he discovers a sweet older blonde he decides to protect her instead

Roman discovering Gerris curls

"Please, sing for me!"

“I’ve spoiled you.” Roman being needy

The sibs witnessing them being sweet together (post season 4)

Roman wants Gerri to sit on his lap

“Gerri’s hot right?” Roman trying to figure out if others see what he sees, word gets around to Gerri and she confronts him

RomanGerri make a sex tape (bonus points if they watch it)

Funeral sex

"You can't just run around and threaten to kill everyone." "Oh but you never told me that so how would I know?"

RomanGerri cover up a murder

Roman & Gerri are secretly together when he gets made CEO. A very special congratulations is in order (canon divergence AU)

Through a glitch in the system (or was it?) two strangers find  themselves married to each other (inspired by the movie Accidental Husband)

Roman is a gladiator and Gerri is his Domina (pure smut) (totally not at all self indulgent)

Dressing room shenanigans

RomanGerri on their honeymoon

The Devil Wears Prada AU

Surprise orgasm

Gerri meets Caroline as Romans partner for the first time

Roman loves Gerris speaking voice and she finds out just how much

Roman being “weird about Gerri” from Shivs POV

Logan thinks she coddles him

Gerri tries to teach Roman to bake

RomanGerri smoke a blunt (in honor of 4/20 being last week)

RomanGerri and Tomshiv double date (or any ship i just thought TomShiv would have the most angst potential) (angst/comfort)

Accidental orgasm

Roman has the horrible habit of staring at her breasts during meetings, Gerri notices

Desk sex

RomanGerri get stuck in an elevator for hours

Gerri shares an irrational fear with Roman

Roman is convinced he’s gonna die before Gerri and she finds it endearing

RomanGerri make love for the first time in lieu of their usual shenanigans

Pet names

Gerri discovers poems Roman has written about her

Roman unintentionally distracting Gerri

Roman finds out Gerri is weak for his puppy dog eyes

Roman fucks her tits (i literally don’t know a pretty way to put this)

Bathroom scene but the version where Gerri lends him a hand

Gerri catching Roman during one of his many “sessions” in his office

Submissive Gerri

Gerri tells Roman he’s pretty

Gerri watching Roman and Shiv cat fight

Cockwarming

During one of their top secret sexy conference calls Gerri decides to try a new method to talk him off (praise vs degradation)

Gerri is dangerously horny

RomanGerri go to the movies

Roman walks in on Gerri in the bath

Roman wants to be her sugar daddy and is upset when Gerri won’t let him take care of her

Roman being possessive

Roman seeks comfort in Gerri after the hostage situation in Turkey

Roman calls Gerri cute, she’s amused “Roman…I’m 64.” “So? You’re still fucking-I don’t know!”

RomanGerri Apocalypse AU

Roman kidnaps Gerri, she’s not entirely mad

Roman can’t stay mad at Gerri and that makes him mad

[theflyingpimphat]

10 bad romance tropes

Ah yes, how to best celebrate the holiday of love by grinching it up. Now, what exactly does someone who doesn’t read or watch romance and mostly gets annoyed by the romantic subplots has to say on this matter? Well, unfortunately, romance is present almost everywhere in the form of said subplots and since I am pretty disinterested in the romance itself, maybe the focus on the other things that come with it like the characters’ personality or development might provide some insights past the heart eyes.

First, a few disclaimers:

-This is highly opinionated. It is not directed against you. If you genuinely like these tropes and enjoy exploring them in the safe environment of media, that is perfectly fine, as regardless of how strong my opinions on these tropes are, policing harmless interests is worse.

-To illustrate the tropes, I’ll use the names “Alice” and “Bob” as examples. However, the tropes also apply to Alice and Beate, Alan and Bob, or Ay:liss and Bo'orrb. It also applies if you switch the names around.

Rest under the cut to save you the scrolling if you're not interested.

Romanticised abuse

Bob stalks Alice, discourages her from going out with her friends and sometimes locks her in his basement, but it's all because of how much he luuuurves her and is concerned with ther safety! Sooo romantic!

Why is this bad?

-There is romance, and there is abuse. At worst case, someone who had gone through the abuse that is being romanticized will be put off by the story, or someone young and inexperienced could take the wrong lessons from it and either pursue relationships with shitheads that will abuse them or land in an abusive relationship and not see it for what it is.

What would be better?

-Depict the abuse as abuse. Yes, sometimes people will explain away their abuse as love, but there is a difference between a character's opinion and the message the story itself conveys.

2. Massive power imbalance

Alice is a billionaire, has bought up half the city, is a martial arts professional, an expert gunfighter, has five PhDs and on top of that, she's an archvampire who can rip a man apart with no effort. Bob is an ordinary man who dropped out of school, gets winded when he has to go up the stairs of more than two floors and is her janitor.

Why is this bad?

-Mind you, such relationships can be written well, but if the power imbalance is large, you will always wonder if the weaker party actually consents to the stronger party's actions or only agrees to them out of fear for the repercussions a denial might result in.

What would be better?

-Balance it out or make the consent between the two parties clear by letting them talk about it regularly.

3. Relationship is mainly detrimental for one of the characters

Alice is a bumbling idiot who constantly lands herself in trouble and needs Bob to save and protect her. Alternatively, Bob is a deadbeat who loads off all the housework to Alice and she barely has time for herself because of it.

Why is this bad?

-Ask yourself: would the character be happier if they had a blow-up doll with their significant other's face printed on it instead of their actual partner? If yes, maybe their relationship sucks.

What would be better?

-Make the characters mutually benefit from each other. And no, "but they really luuurve each other" or "the seggs is sooo amazing" doesn't count.

4. No common interests, just romance

Alice loves Bob. Bob loves Alice. That's all you can say about them.

Why is this bad?

-A relationship like that would be just smooching and maybe screwing. It would have no other substance. You would ask yourself: but why do they love each other?

What would be better?

-Let them have common interests, hobbies they do together, just any activities that aren't tied to showing how powerful, loving or fuckable the character is.

5. Enemies to lovers

Alice and Bob repeatedly attempted to kill each other at the start and there was a mutual hate between them, but their attempts to kill each other got them both so horny that they are getting married next week.

There, I said it. Bring out the torches and pitchforks, but I just find this trope terrible. From my own experience, every "friend" with whom I have started out on poor terms turned out to be a massive backstabber, so I won't buy such a romance as genuine.

Why is this bad?

-Who is to say they are lovers now and not just pretending, so they can strike when the other is most vulnerable? And how solid is their relationship, how big is the chance that one will betray the other at the next best opportunity?

What would be better?

-Build them up as rivals on friendly terms, or make their animosity non-personal.

6. Love at first sight, too-fast progress

Alice and Bob met in the morning and want to marry on afternoon. Both swear the other one is the love of their life.

Why is this bad?

-It shoehorns the characters into a relationship without building it up properly. This is especially egregious in movies, where all events have to happen in the span of a single day.

What would be better?

-Give them time together to develop their relationship properly. Alternatively, have them already be in a relationship and let them work through some tension.

7. "I can fix him"

Bob drinks, screams at and insults his employees, has driven his mother to suicide and is overally a piece of shit. Alice still pursues a relationship with him because she thinks that with her love and care, she can transform Bob into a nice, caring man.

Why is this bad?

-A terrible personality needs much more than the love of a partner to change, and even then, change is not guaranteed. And certainly, a relationship isn't worth one's mistreatment or mental exhaustion.

What would be better?

-Get the fucker into therapy instead.

8. Relationship built on looks

Bob is tall and has the physique of a Greek god. Alice has hair like gold and humongous boobs. Those are the main reasons they're together.

Why is this bad?

-While a perfectly fine reason for a one-night-stand or a temporary fling, looks alone won't let them stay together; it will be certainly over when they age at the latest, earlier if one of them gets disfigured by disease or an accident.

What would be better?

-Maybe they approached each other because they liked the other's appearance, but once that is done, they will have to start sharing interests and match their personality traits.

9. Predatory relationship

Alice can't stop thinking about Bob. Specifically, how much she wants to rip the flesh off his bones, crack open his bones to suck out the marrow and to lick his blood off her hands afterwards.

Why is this bad?

-It's creepy as fuck. Even if this is used as an example of how one character has to fight their urges and control themselves out of the luuurve they feel for their significant other, constantly reading or seeing how much they want to kill/eat/rape their partner is pretty offputting. Maybe they would be better off with a lubed-up sandwich they can fuck instead.

What would be better?

-Avoid it, or at least tone it down.

10. Love interest with no personality

Bob has a tense relationship with his family, loves his two dogs, enjoys building plane models and reading books about foreign cultures in his free time. His personality is slightly reserved towards strangers but he is very friendly and reliable to those he is familiar with.

Alice loves Bob. Her personality is her loving Bob.

Why is this bad?

-One of the characters gets written as a glorified sex toy and is nothing but an accessory of the other.

What would be better?

-Give both parties a personality and use those to deduct their relationship's dynamic.

Bonus: Babies ever after

I'm sorry, but having a smelly, slobbery, squalling shit factory to look after is the least romantic or sexy thing. Put that stuff at the end of the exploration of their relationship. Or have it pick up once again when the progeny starts resembling a person rather than a demon that feeds on attention.

[steelandblood]

Red Hot

Summery: Armor is supposed to protect you, but of course Mirwen was unlucky enough to face the enemy that could use it agains her.

Content: Female whumpee and caretaker, dnd/fantasy whump (no actuall knowledge of dnd needed, relevant spell description in the end), 3rd degree burns, and a very miserable time for whumpee

Caracter intros

Mirwen should have known it was a trap the moment they walked into the room. Really, she should have known there would be a trap simply because they did not encounter one yet, and no matter that the others had gods looking out for them, with her shitty luck things could never be easy. So, when the doors slammed shut behind them and a huge mechanical creature descended with a thud and began advancing at them, while the others started to mildly panic, Mirwen only cursed under her breath and drew out her sword. Quite honestly, she had been craving for a fight, and though this thing wouldn’t bleed and wouldn’t be able to properly die, it would still feel nice to brutally destroy something.

Mirwen’s enthusiasm for the fight quickly disappeared as she again felt the shock of a current running through her armor to her body. Just her luck that the bloody thing was especially affective against foes in metal armor, and it just so happened that three out of the four of them did wear said metal armor. This meant that Thancur and Rauna were forced to stay back with Calina, leaving Mirwen alone in melee. Not that she minded, it was her role after all, and she gladly took hits to protect her friends. And they were doing everything they could, Thancur and Calina relentlessly shooting the construct and Rauna doing her best to heal Mirwen, but it didn’t make the hits hurt any less.

And the hits only kept coming, as the damn thing refused to die. Just when Mirwen started to get used to the electric shocks, she felt her armor suddenly grow red-hot and she had to bite her lip bloody to stop herself from screaming from pain from the sensation of her entire body being set on fire. She kept fighting through the pain, but with every moment it became harder to focus on swinging her sword when she felt like she was being cooked alive inside of her armor.

Everything became a haze of pain and when the construct finally collapsed into a heap of metal in front her, it took Mirwen a minute to realize that the fight was over and that her armor was no longer burning. Her sword clattered to the floor, were her hands shaking? That was wrong, she should be able to handle a bit of pain. And yet her knees buckled and would have painfully hit the ground, had Rauna not caught her.

“It’s okey, you’re fine, it’s over. Let me heal you now.” Rauna made her sit down and began removing her armor.

The relief of having the heavy armor off was short lived, as Rauna quickly removed the gambeson and moved on to removing her shirt, that painfully stuck to her burnt skin. Mirwen couldn’t stop herself from crying in pain before biting hard on her lip to keep herself quiet. Rauna stopped, giving Mirwen a moment of hope, but then reached for her dagger.

“Please don’t… don’t do this. Please…” Mirwen was on the verge of tears from pain and embarrassment. She normally considered anything less than full armor a state of undress, and now with the pain involved in the prosses, Mirwen would have rather died then taken off her shirt.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but the shirt has to come off. You know you can’t leave it like that, and I need to see what I’m doing. I promise I’ll be as careful as I can.” Rauna said, and without giving Mirwen any time to protest, started cutting away the fabric, as Calina hastily pushed Thancur out of the now unlocked door.

Mirwen squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep tears from spilling. Only when she heard both girls gasp is shock did she open her eyes, and instantly regrated it. Her shirt was off, revealing her chest that was entirely covered in severe burns. The sight, combined with the smell of charred flesh, made Mirwen lose her breakfast. She no longer cared about the tears running down her cheeks.

Calina put a flask of water to her mouth. Mirwen really wished for something stronger, but drank eagerly, hoping to get rid of the vile taste in her mouth.

She felt a hand of her shoulder. Mirwen flinched at the sudden touch, instinctively crossing her arms to cover her breasts, and involuntarily let out a sob.

“I’m sorry,” Rauna immediately removed her hand, “Is it okey if I start healing you?”

Mirwen nodded, not trusting her voice. She sighted in relief at the sensation of Rauna’s cool hands on her skin. It was over far too soon however, and Mirwen whined at the loss of the healing touch.

“That’s all I can do for now,” Rauna said sadly, “I’ll be able to heal you more tomorrow.” She paused for a moment, hesitating. “It will probably scar though.” Rauna sounded guilty and apologetic. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Mirwen looked down at her chest. The burns looked almost as horrible as they did before healing, and she doubted her back looked any better. Of course it’s going to scar. It’s going to look horrible. But it didn’t matter. Mirwen had no reason to need to be pretty. The only reason would by Alysa, but it’s not like she ever truly had a chance. Now at least she wouldn’t be able to needlessly get her hopes up, only to have them crushed. It was better this way. It was fine.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” Mirwen wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, Rauna or herself. She avoided the others’ pitying looks. If any of the girls knew she was lying, they mercifully stayed silent and did not call her out.

“We can’t just leave it like that, I need to bandage you up.” Rauna looked between the three of them, searching for an appropriate cloth, her gaze stopping on Calina. “Calina, I’m gonna need your cloak.”  

Calina took off her cloak without protest, handing it to Rauna, and they both started teering it up into thin strips.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I will get you a new one.” Mirwen knew it was a lie and knew Calina knew it as well. The cloak probably cost more than all of Mirwen’s cloths and armor combined, and there is no way could afford to replace it in the foreseeable future.  

 “Do you really thing I care about the stupid cloak?” Calina sounded somewhat sad, but not angry. Mirwen didn’t know why, or if it was better or worse. “You are hurt, you could have died!”

“I’m sorry, I should have done better.” Mirwen lowered her eyes in shame, “I suppose I’m not as good of a fighter as I like to believe.”

“Mirwen, no. That’s not what I meant.” Calina sounded even more sad. Of course Mirwen managed to fuck up and say the wrong this to upset her.

“We are just worried about you.” Rauna sounded upset too, and Mirwen wasn’t even sure what she said that was wrong.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“You know you don’t have to apologize all the time, right?” Rauna started wrapping the make-shift bandages around her torso.

“I’m sorry, I…” Rauna sighed and Mirwen cringed at her mistake and forced herself to refrain from apologizing again.

An awkward silence set in as Rauna continued her work. Thankfully she was quick and soon enough she was helping Mirwen back into her armor. They still had the rest of the fortress to clear, and who knows what they might find, or what might find them. When they return to town Mirwen would probably get as drunk as she can, and cry, or punch a wall until her knuckles bleed. But now she needed to be strong, that was her role and the others relied on her, so she will pretend to be strong, no matter how weak she actually felt.

[grappel-writes]

Poor Strategy

Orion regales his dying companion with a childhood story like a proper soldier. Except the companion is an overly dramatic undead (who almost certainly can't die from blood loss), and "companion" is a very muddy definition.

Read on Ao3 Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50446567

Astarion x Orion (male tav) Stabbing, gratuitous blood mention, wound descriptions, permanent injuries (not for a major character)

Rocky bluffs, short falls, precarious footing, but good for making sudden dodges, getting into, and out of, the enemy’s range. The sun is setting, creating stark, long shadows that are perfect for Astarion to utilize. Half a dozen opponents block the thin deer path that cuts through the woods shading them. Hooded figures, likely cultists, with only short blades visible. If more weapons or magics were hidden underneath, there was no time to tell. Orion is flanked by Wyll, already summoning his rapier, and Astarion, who leans forward in thrilled anticipation of the blood that’s about to be spilled. Orion’s ax is pulled, grip secured with a calibrating heft, and in sync, they’re off. 

The figure at the lead rushes forward, too, knife over extended and leaving himself open. Orion sees the telegraphed move from a mile away and is already aiming for center mass. The moment before impact, from the corner of his eye, he notices a vital detail. A deadly one, even. An oversight that drains him of all his confidence. Astarion is slipping into the shadows like it’s a habit, but doesn’t see the figure already planted there. Half obscured behind the brush, she’s well behind the path. They had walked right by her without a single notice. The vampire doesn’t even get the chance to turn fully before the lithe, hidden human poses for her target. There’s no time to warn him, not mid motion, and Orion’s ax blade glances harmlessly off of the unseen plate under the traveling cloak of his attacker. Something else he should have noticed, but he’s too concerned for Astarion. He curses, loudly, and tries to reorient himself without letting it rattle him. What else had he missed? Was anyone else in danger?

But again, there’s no time, no time… there’s never enough time. “Fights start and end remarkably fast.” Orion’s voice resonates through the camp the same way the fire in the center radiates light that dissipates into the dark woods surrounding them. “You don’t even realize how many decisions you have to make with each breath, each half a second… each half of a half of a second.” “That’s called a quarter, darling.” “It’s called life or death, fangs.” He’s been poking the fire with a far off look as he’s entranced by the licking flames, musing out loud. “In that ungodly small instant, you have to make so many judgements, each one to save yourself. Or your people. In the time it takes for a sword to unsheathe everything could have changed. And you can only act on what you know… what’s in front of you, what you actually see, hear. Where your focus is.” “You overcomplicate things. Just go in with sharp instincts and sharper blades, it’s always worked out for me.” “If only I had the instincts of a well fed vampire, hm?” The dimpled, healing marks on Orion’s neck betray his fondness. “I have to keep honing that sharpness. Walking onto the battlefield, for me, unprepared is the same as walking in already dead. So, even if we’re ambushed, separated, in camp, or hells, at sea, I want to have a plan.” 

“Ugh, really?”” 

“I know it’s a lot but what you’ll do, what I’ll do, how to save each other… they keep me up at night.” He tosses the stick he’s using to poke the fire into the flames and clasps his hands together tightly. “I don’t just look out for myself, you know I’d protect any of you, but Astarion… I can’t see you get hurt. So, please.” 

The vampire’s quiet for a moment, watching the upturned golden look that reflects the fire back to him hurt and plead silently. 

“Fine. Only because I can’t wait to see what you think I could possibly do on a boat of all things. And because it’ll ease your worries.” 

Gripped by fear and pain, overwhelmed by indecision and the flurry of moments he should be judging now, and now, right now, knowing the more he’s absent the more he’s missing and it’s stacking up faster and faster. Orion freezes. 

The enemy ambusher’s blades flash out with deadly precision, cloak floating back behind her with the motion. Both daggers find their mark deep into Astarion’s side, making him cry out. The side of his carefully mended gambeson immediately darkens with blood. There’s a gruesome noise when the attacker pulls her blade free with a wicked, successful snarl. She’s readying to strike again despite Astarion crouching over to hold his wounds, incapacitated. 

Orion can’t even process a want or fear, an instinct, not even a noise. He’s completely numb, his mind ejecting to some other realm. So far gone, when he’s struck by a battle hammer on the shoulder that jostles his entire frame and pushes his collarbone sickeningly low, he doesn’t even respond to the shooting ache. Distantly, he acknowledges a bolt of raw power that shoots over his shoulder. The smell of ozone registers, but no meaning is placed to it even as Astarion’s attacker is sent flying back off the stone ridge. No longer having to pull his focus between his attacker and the wounds, the vampire falls to his knees. 

Those wounds are deep, judging by the length of blood he saw disappear into Astarion. The fighter’s blood runs cold, the idea to shout dies as just a passing thought. His stomach lurches as blood continues to pour out from between the vampire’s clutching hands. The entire side of his companion and the ground under him are a glistening scarlet. Their blood. Shared life and strength that Orion readily gave, that Astarion made his own, was spilling. 

There are other crashes, yelps, and grunts of a fight he can’t seem to pull to foucs. His ax is weightless in his hand he’s so unfeeling, stuck staring uselessly at the elf across the clearing. He could run to help, but how? His legs are more than useless. Besides, he’s no medic. Astarion could die, couldn’t he? And standing here just watching, surrounded by enemies who would love to find out if he could, Orion’s mind is simply blank. A flash of a different fight, in a different life, rainy cobblestones drain the blood he shared with another towards him and again, he was paralyzed. 

“...what are you doing? Orion!?” The still scene in front of him blurs, then shakes violently as Wyll grabs him by the back of his chest plate. The warlock is inches from his face, wielding a rapier of light out to an approaching attacker just to buy them a second. 

“Snap out of it! Orion! We need you in this - don’t lose it now!” Orion blinks, recognizing the one infernal and one stone eye boring into him, commanding him to come to. Wyll was still well, still fighting, and Orion couldn’t let him do it alone. The grip on his weapon tightens, conviction set, but all he can manage to do is look over his shoulder at Astarion anyway. The other man balls tightly onto his knees, making no noise, no movement… “ Now Orion!” Wyll gives the armor another brisk shake, then tosses the fighter directly into the fray. The world snaps back into focus. 

Years of training take over. Decision to be made now - life or death. No time to think. Anything that he had missed would have to remain unnoticed. It pushes Orion back inside. The scared young man who just wants to run to Astarion’s side and scream. Instead, it’s the fighter who stands tall, and before him skulls cleave, armor crumples like foil, crushing its wearers. Blood flies, wounds opened by him are cauterized shut again by the pure energy of Wyll’s spells striking true. It’s a gruesome duet that ends in mere seconds and leaves smoldering, motionless carnage at their feet. Orion doesn’t recall a single moment of it. 

As soon as the last body thuds to the ground, Orion’s ax joins it there. He twists on his heel to sprint to Astarion’s side, his only cohesive thought is to be with him. He falls to the bloody dirt, “Astarion - hold on, not now, not now, notnownotnow… I’m gonna get you back. Come on-” “ Don’t. ” Astarion bites back without looking up, hissing through his teeth. “It hurts. ” each sound is torture, a fight on its own. “Give me. A moment.” Orion’s hand hovers nervously over him, shaking, his mouth dry. “I’m sorry, this was my fault, I shouldn’t have told you… We could have seen her. I’m sorry. Let me do something, I’m not leaving you here.” Panic is mounting as he realizes just how useless he is at this moment. Only good at destroying, not at helping someone once they’re actually hurt. 

All too many commands, curses, and pleas flood Astarion’s mind. They roll around like something barbed, catching each other and ripping and tearing at everything. Unable to speak anymore, they lash out to Orion’s mind, its parasite, directly.

I can’t fucking move. Don’t make me - it’ll hurt worse. I’m not going anywhere. Help me. I’m immortal. Can’t die. Can’t die. I don’t want to die. It. Hurts. 

The half elf recoils at first at the rushed flood of thoughts, but recovers and shifts even closer, heart pounding, lost. He doesn’t look up when Wyll approaches while digging something out of his pack. 

“I know, I know, that looks nasty… here.” He presses a familiar bottle into Orion’s hand, catching it within his own while he speaks to get the frayed fighter to focus. “Give this to Astarion. Stay. Here. Fight off anyone else that comes, I know you can.” Orion nods. Wyll looks to Astarion. “Don’t die. I’ll be back with Shadowheart. We’ll get you right.” the Blade forces a smile, “I won’t let our favorite leech-” “ GO” Astarion’s deep, guttural command cuts through all pretense, all niceties. Wyll blinks, but understands the urgency immediately and takes a couple steps backward before taking off.

The cork is fumbled with a couple times before Orion is finally able to work it free. He holds it under Astarion’s mouth, grateful that his shaking has settled now that he’s been given a task. “You have to.” He can’t help the shaking in his voice, though. 

Astarion groans, sitting up enough to do that would stretch his wounds out, but his energy is fading and he can’t protest more than that. His thoughts are too cloudy to come up with any other idea. 

“I know, but if you can’t do it on your own I’ll have to push you on your side and pour it down your throat. Your choice.” An even more miserable idea than the first… Astarion weighs his optins, and decides that if he’s going to go through excruciating pain again, it’ll be on his terms. A bloodied, pale hand lashes out and grips Orion’s bracer. His grip slides on the metal, but stays, and he pulls the arm closer to himself. “I’ll do it, dammit-!” His breathing is deep, rough, ragged. Blood is dripping from his mouth now as he stares down the potion in front of him as if it’s his newest nemesis. Insufferable pain, or death. How he wished he wouldn’t end up in this situation over and over again like this… But he had done it before, and he could do it again. 

The fighter lets his arm be controlled, holding it steady through Astarion’s pained quivers. He pushes it up and against the vampire’s lower lip. Ready. 

With a sharp inhale, Astarion sits up fully and pulls Orion’s arm, and the potion, with him to drain it fast. Orion follows through with the motion, tilting the bottle as needed. Sharp, wrenching pain makes Astarion’s vision swim and the world twist as he can feel the gruesome shift of cut flesh against itself. He knows pain like this, and in some fucked up way, it’s a comfort that he isn’t new to this kind of anguish. 

He drinks fast, unable to taste or feel any of it, and releases Orion’s arm with a cry as soon as he’s done. The bottle’s tossed aside, and the elf leans over again, hand ghosting over his own wounds, too sensitive to touch now. They still burn, but now in a sickening way as the potion gets to work to weave flesh back together the limited amount it can. The pain now is less dominating, atleast, no longer fading in and out of lucidity, his mind is his own. 

“Orion.” He gasps, still crouched. Hurts a little less to keep it compressed, it seems. 

“Yes?” “Looks like we’re moving our next night time encounter up quite a bit sooner.” The fighter scoffs, a relieved smile flashing for just as long as he dares to feel that. “Not if you’re going to just let it all go to waste again. No point in filling a bucket with a hole.” “ Don’t. Make me laugh.” Astarion shoots a dagger of a look back up, with the slightest glimmer of mischievous appreciation in the red. “Right, of course.” Orion shifts back, sitting fully in front of him now, in tense silence. It feels like infinity as he watches the growing red on Astarion’s side slow, and then finally, stop. The only noise to accompany them is the shifting of leaves in the woods, the barely there shuffle of the creatures that live in it. They’re deathly still and quiet, as if they’re both waiting to see if the healing reverses somehow. Of course, it doesn’t, and the searing pain finally ebbs away enough for most of Astarion’s other senses to return. A few more moments, and he’s comfortable to move again. If he’s going to be under the careful watch of his mark, he might as well look proper while he is. Sitting back against the bluff, still favoring his bad side, Astarion looks squarely back. Takes in the tight shoulders, the grit teeth of the fighter in front of him.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. I’ll let you take the blame since I can’t sink something sharp into the actual person that caused it, but you're just taking the fall." The half-elf's brow pinches, and he works to remove his bracers and gauntlets as he speaks. "You acted under my guidance, I contributed at least that way." The removed armor is dropped by his knees, "and again I failed you, when you were caught by someone I didn't see. Then when I couldn’t make it to you… Three moments I could've prevented this, and didn't." Left to watch the self scrutiny, Astarion can only grapple with the roiling confusion of why . Why did he endeavor over this so hard, blame himself, put on this show about it? Orion claims to not want anything more than a cure and to go home, so what's all this effort for? Did he really think that Astarion was worth risking this much for? "Most people would call me a blind idiot for missing the rat myself, and they'd be right. I'm already bleeding out, making me watch you torture yourself too is just depressing." 

That gets Orion to almost roll his eyes, but he relents. "You're right. You don't need to hear me go on." "Of course I’m right.” Astarion rolls his shoulder, wincing at the easing pain, “If you've anything more entertaining to discuss, well, we'll likely be here for a moment." "Mm." Orion shifts, one knee up and the other curled under himself. "Something entertaining… I'm not a very good story teller. I'd read you your book, but it's not in your pack I don't think?" Astarion shakes his head, an earnest, small smile touched by the offer. One that perhaps he’ll have to take him up on later. "What do you want to talk about then?" “You want me to pick? Come now, if you can’t even regale an injured ally in his possibly last moments with a battle story, what good are you as a soldier anyway?” 

Orion slumps back with a disbelieving laugh, “Sure don’t sound like you’re in your last moments… but fine, if you just want to hear me drone on while you die…” 

“Well honestly, I’d rather be in a massive feather bed, wonderfully not stabbed, surrounded by beautiful people, wine, and the bloodiest of dinners but. You’ll do.” The vampire gives a dismissive wave towards the other, as if his company wasn’t one of the most important things in his life right now.  "Let's see… why don't you tell me about how you froze out there?” That red look cuts back up, suddenly razor sharp. “Don't think I didn't see it. I might have been in mortal peril, but even I was able to catch that." Despite his best efforts to needle, his expression softens. The toying lilt fades to something that sounds dangerously close to genuine concern. 

"Really?” 

Even under the pauldrons, it’s easy to see Orion’s shoulders drop. “You were clutching at two stab wounds, and you still noticed?" He rubs a hand down his jaw to hide his embarrassed smile. He tries not to think how that meant when Astarion was hurt, he looked to him. Tries not to think of how that makes him happy. 

"I'm very perceptive. Now, don't deflect. Remember the whole dying and occupying my last moments thing?" "Firstly, you're not dying. Second: of course, Astarion, let me just bare my deepest fears and biggest insecurities to you. For entertainment." "That is precisely what I want, yes." Orion laughs, "One day, I'm going to figure out how to say no to you…" He pushes his hair back to avoid making eye contact. “I’ll take that as a challenge.” Another laugh, and Orion laces his fingers together, staring at them with a fading smile as he pulls the thread on an old memory. 

"It's a whole story - which is exactly what you were hoping for, I think. Some family drama, even…” he glances back up, downright bashful, “I’ll tell you, but you don’t talk about it to anyone else, okay?” “Darling, keeping secrets is what I do, I would never.” Astarion holds a hand over his heart, a swear he’s broken countless times, but something pulling at him says not this time. This one he’ll take to the grave if Orion asked. The other nods, satisfied with the answer because he trusted Astarion far too much.

“I've never frozen like that before, except when I was a kid. I was big enough to think I was grown, but still young enough that I wasn't sure what to do with all the new strength and height yet. Mom always said I reminded her fawn at that age, I guess I get why.” He blinks hard, bringing his thoughts back to the story he’s so used to avoiding. “Anyway, I picked a fight with a merc group." 

"That was stupid of you." 

"Yes, it was. Dad wanted to hire them for something, they turned him down, and it put him in a tight spot. I didn't even bother to ask why they did, or stop to think if there was a better way to help. I just got it in my head that they needed to be taught a lesson." 

Astarion's brows lift in unexpected amusement, never would he have guessed his humble warrior used to be so hot headed. And the eagerness for violence, even at that young of an age? Some people are just born with talents, he guesses. "And I'm assuming you didn't leave them to drain in the streets, mission accomplished?" 

"Hah, no. Course not. I think I wanted to… prove myself? Make my mark? I don’t know. All I actually did was get beaten senseless. Turns out they weren’t interested in going easy on me just because I was young.” He tilts his head with a sheepish chuckle, “I wouldn’t have either after some of the things I had said.” “To be a fly on the wall when that happened…” Orion points that half smile back at him, “Maybe you were. Can you do bugs, as spawn? I know the real things can do bats, wolves… surely a fly is easier, right? You could handle that?” “I’m sorry - I believe we left off at the part where you made a fool of yourself and were then beaten and humiliated in the street for it?” 

Another laugh, bouncing straight from his chest. It isn’t graceful or polite, but Astarion can’t help but smile with him because of it. It’s beautiful. 

“Right, that part…” hands up in surrender, “Face so swollen you couldn’t recognize me, ribs broken, couple joints dislocated…” He motions to Astarion’s wound, “You get it.” “I do.” there are other things he remembers, more in tune with what Orion’s describing, that he can relate to. “Trust me.” The fighter seems to notice, clears his throat, and rubs a fist in two circles over his heart: ‘I’m sorry.’ A quick sign he picked up somewhere, Astarion’s never asked, but he appreciates the brevity of the movement. With the quiet acknowledgement, the moment passes. 

“They… were going to kill me. I think. Until they got bored kicking me on the ground. I stayed there that night, passed out right in the street. You know how Baldur’s Gate is, no one else’s business, so no one even looked twice at some kid in the gutter.” “Ah, yes. Home.” “Hah, yeah. Home. Speaking of, I came home the next morning. Nearly knocked Dallin over while he was running out to go look for me.” Orion’s voice drops, eyes close. “I’ve never seen him so furious. At me, at the people who had done it to me… Dallin liked to fight, too, but he was better at it than me. More skilled… and he did it for the right reasons. ” “Suppose that gallant, knight in shining armor behavior is genetic, then. It’s a wonder either of you made it to the age you did.” Orion’s silent for a moment, studying the ground hard before continuing, acting as if he didn’t hear Astarion’s last comment. 

“He waited a couple days. Pinned down their hideout, figured out who they were and how they fought. Where they liked to drink, the gear they had, casters, abilities… he did his research. I got patched up, braced, bandaged, and he put a sword in my hand again. Told me if I was going to make problems that other people had to fix, the least I could do was help.” His tone darkens, the usual glow to him seems to dim with the rapidly setting sun. In return, the snark dies on Astarion’s tongue. He lets himself be engaged with the rest of the story in earnest. The dull ache in his side not forgotten, but throbbing sympathetically with Orion’s remembered injuries. 

“So we head out. Two kid brothers, with unsharpened swords, and nothing but revenge on the mind. We found them, and got exactly what we wanted. The fight broke out immediately, Astarion… and I froze.” He looks up to the sky, rapidly approaching dark blue, blinking a couple times to force back the burn of his eyes. “I was too far away from Dalin. We didn’t have a plan, we just ran in. So when they kicked him down, there was nothing I could do. I knew I needed to help… the sound his back made. I knew it was bad. But I couldn’t. I stood there and watched until someone knocked me out or I blacked out, I don’t know.” With a shuddery sigh he drags both hands over his face, and he’s quiet for a long time. So long Astarion nearly speaks up to convince him that he doesn’t need to finish the story, but his curiosity wins over, and he waits. 

“When I came to, I was at home. Guards broke up the fight, carried us both back. Should’ve taken us to prison, really, but they knew our parents. And they pitied us. Pitied Dallin.” Voice cracks, but he pulls his shoulders back with a throat clear to compose himself. Astarion sees the man he met off the nautiloid, the one who kept everything hidden behind a soldier’s mask. 

“Dallin couldn’t move his legs. Couldn’t feel them. Whole host of healers revolved in and out and none of them were able to fix it.” 

The last hanging on rays of the sun are clipped, relenting to the smothering navy of the darkening sky. “Don’t be so broken up about it, it’s hardly your fault that he stepped into your fight. One he couldn’t handle, no less. He had to have known something like that was a possibility.” Astarion watches, waits, and seeing no change in that steeled expression, continues. “Not me, though. Your brother is exceedingly valorous, and all the accolades to him for it, but I still expect full protection - and look at the state I’m in! I’ll be holding this against you until you figure out some way to make it up to me.” 

Orion scoffs, trying to force away the smile that pulls from him. Astarion’s getting too good at cracking his composure. 

“I’m sure you will, considering how often you speak on things you’d like to hold against me.” 

“Feeling bold only when I’m hurt? We’ll see if you can keep that up when this gets mended.”

“I’m sure I can keep your teeth off of me just fine, even at your full strength, vampire.” 

“If only it was just fangs we were talking about…” Orion’s look lingers, trained on that red stare that makes him breathless, “If only.” 

The vampire wets his lips, shifting forward, it’s become easier to ignore the burn in his side with this temptation before him. “When we get back-” 

The growing sound of boots crunching on the dirt and gravel path pull both of their attention. Even in the dim lighting, the silhouettes of their companions are clear. Shadowheart’s braid swinging behind her as she moves, Wyll’s proud horns curling above him. “Thank the Gods.” Orion stands, those trailing words from earlier immediately forgotten, and moves to go meet them. 

“Ah-! Don’t just leave me here!” Orion stops in his tracks, it’s unnecessary, they’re only down the path, but he obliges. With only a moment’s hesitation he comes back and takes a knee next to him. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll stay right here.” At that, Astarion has no response other than a haughty sound. He was expecting a hand wave or a laugh instead. Not this level of devotion, especially after the story they just shared. He’s grateful he can look at their approaching companions and avoid the soft, golden look that always seems to be watching over him. 

The mending goes quickly, easily. The only residual burning is from the healing magic, and will wane much faster. Astarion shifts his shirts around to examine the bloody scars underneath through the holes left. They’ll be healed within the week. “I just patched this one…” “I know,” Orion slings Astarion’s pack over his shoulder. Wyll and Shadowheart are picking over the bodies for anything useful, just far enough away to be out of ear shot. “But better that than your ribs.” 

“Better I not get stabbed at all.” He continues to run his finger along the torn edge, “You didn’t have to stay with me.” “... I did.” “You didn’t. But you did anyway.” Astarion pulls his shoulders back, lifts his chin. Every part as regal as he was before the wound. Even if it was just a gesture of an age old guilt, a heavy memory Orion was trying to correct, it was also a kindness, and he’s not used to that. “Astarion,” Orion takes a step closer, and from his thick voice the vampire expects a touch on his jaw, in his hair, something he’s not sure he’s dreading or excited for. It never comes. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, over and over. Anything to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Orion! These yours?” He spins on his heel just in time to catch the gloves flying towards him. “Yes! Thank you, I’m all over the place, I would’ve left them…” He flips them in his hands a few times, and again catches Astarion’s look with a near pleading one of his own. “I’ll do better next time. It… makes my heart hurt to see you like that. I don’t want it to happen again.” almost shyly, his look goes back down to his gloves. Just a second though, in the next he’s composed again. That casual smile back, he nods to Astarion and turns. As if he hadn’t just branded Astarion’s safety onto his soul, declaring it to be of utmost import to him, the fighter walks towards his other companions to look over the pile of secured equipment. 

Gone before he can stumble into something witty, Astarion is overwhelmed and overtaken with a feeling he had lost a long, long time ago. When Orion turns to look down the path, faint, matching pin pricks are clear on his neck. The bare side, where they’re more obvious but won’t scar his tattoo, by request. Evidence of what they do, how they’re linked. That Astarion was there. Mindlessly, his touch grazes over his own new twin scars on his side, but they’re to be lost soon. Vampires always go back to their original state. It aches to think that he’ll lose the permanent reminder. The proof that Orion was ever there, that he was changed because of it. “Ah,” he breathes, and the something between every word and thought materializes, solid and unmistakable now in his chest. His touch traces up to that instead, hand flat over his long still heart.

“Hello there, you were supposed to be dead.” 

[elekinetic]

ella ella ella elLA ELLA OMG !!!! your latest script has me screaming crying throwing up actually !!!

you write action so so well actually, like i could feel the heightened emotions and urgency and i could hear the gunshots, weapons being loaded and ragged breathing so clearly??

i think ur talent is specifically writing smth that others can envision very easily, like?? omg??? also ur oc lore is actually really interesting, and i wanna hear more about the lesbians enemies to lovers side plot !!!!

n e ways, have a great day, this was just an ella appreciation ask <3

(P.S. look at my profile ((just for a sec pretty pls)) u wont regret it i prommy)

LOSING MY MIND. :,)))) i’m so so glad you liked it and oh my god i’m screaming at how great of a compliment it is to say my talent is in writing visualization as a screenwriter like im !!!!! fr!!!!! AH!!! and your BIO thank you??? thank you???? also ur description has one of my fave lines from that script i’m glad it’s getting the love i’d like to think it deserves.

and yesssss daya and mirene 💙🖤💙🖤 @ratt-duffer asked for a little elaboration as well so:

i love them your honor. yes yes obligatory make out fight scene where mirene pulls back after like five seconds and is like what the FUCK am i doing and runs like hell, but to me the fun thing with them is that for a while, mirene is the ONLY person who knows about daya’s past. one of the things that brings them together is them getting stuck together in an airlock. they fight, the have a heart to heart, they talk about saraneth. mir is one of the only people daya can talk to about it. mirene actually ends up capturing daya eventually and takes her to the monocracy where she unfortunately is tortured for information and it’s this huge betrayal BUT mirene breaks her out and it’s revealed that the monocracy was gonna send another assassin after daya and kill mirene if she didn’t get her and that mirene was planning to get them to the headquarters and convince daya to just give up the information bc they were going to kill netras son if not but they took daya away before she could talk to her. and mirenes whole thing is loyalty, so the fact that mirene left the monocracy to save her…her allegiance is to daya now. it takes a while for them to get past the betrayal and they break up hardcore for a while, but they grow individually and then get back together.

here’s a playlist bc of fucking course there’s one.

daya and mirene were my core focus for a while bc. hello. enemies to lovers lesbians. but recently i have been MUCH more interested in aurora and charlie’s slow burn friends to lovers arc bc. ahhh. AHHH. and ykw i think that’s growth. seriously like…the atrocities rora has committed?? but she’s also a victim?? but she doesn’t believe she’s worthy of any love?? but charlie is just so protective of her and wants to save her, not because she needs saving, but because she deserves to feel precious. like, she’s reclaiming her femininity and identity and healing and oh my god her relationship with james?? and MIRENE later on?? AND THE HEIR TO THE MONOCRACY WHO OH MY GOD I DIDNT EVEN TALK ABOUT sweet lord ok i’ll stop now

[zenobomber]

and here’s another starter call for aki for the event! he’s going to be capped at five since i have a lot of ideas for him for this event - but feel free to like past that cap and i’ll get you a starter if i have time! if we’ve interacted before, you won’t count towards the cap.

event info can be found below!

so, aki has a lot of great possibilities for fun happenings in this event. because he is from a game with thirteen distinct endings - not including the “game over” screens you get from various deaths - there’s a lot that can be seen. and aki is very distinctly different in all of the endings. 

i’m going to go with a mix of sentient and residual data for this - so below, here’s some akis you might be able to meet if you choose to walk alongside the aki i write here.

SIN

from one of the ending branches - sin aki is a very distorted individual. with his sanity snapped in half after being unable to save the life of his childhood best friend - fuyu - and regaining his memories of when he murdered and cannibalized fuyu’s younger sister natsu years prior, aki branches in two different ways from here. i’m going to focus on the worse of his versions here.

this aki is incredibly manipulative and hostile. you’ll meet him with bandages wrapped around his left eye, and his right leg cut off from the knee-below. he uses a crutch to get around. these wounds were self inflicted, as he force-fed these parts of himself to someone else both as a form of revenge for killing fuyu, and to try and cure their illness.

i would not recommend this branch of interaction if you are uncomfortable with themes of cannibalism, force feeding, dismemberment, and self-mutilation. this interaction would be treated kind of like a horror game hide-and-seek scenario. 

USHIRONO

from the hidden true endings of the game, but not the canon one, this aki is very well spoken and polite. his left leg is heavily injured and he uses a cane to get around, making him a bit slower. this aki would appear in unique cases, and would sacrifice himself to protect anyone in the interaction from danger. he’s probably the nicest one you could run into, not including the main aki i write.

ZENO

suffering from a relapse of the illness ZENO - this aki is best described as psychotic. if you’ve ever watched the saw movies - imagine jigsaw if he was a gay 5′3 transman. that’s what this aki is like. the residual data will make it appear as if you are in his timed puzzle straight from the game, which you need to solve to escape. if you’re unable to solve his twisted escape room - he’ll attack you, and attempt to blow you up with explosives. 

it’s important to note that ZENO enhances aki’s intelligence, curiosity, speed, strength, and endurance. he is a difficult person to fight against - not including the fact he is heavily armed with explosives, and acid strong enough to near instantly corrode through human flesh and bone. 

he’ll give you hints to solve his puzzle, but he’s more interested in seeing you fail so he can kill you. but while the timer he has for you to complete the room is going - he’ll be peaceful. watching you, like an ant in an ant farm.

i would not recommend this interaction if you don’t want your character to get blown up in the chance you’re unable to solve his puzzle. i’ll take the escape room scenario directly from the game in this interaction. 

OTHERS

like mentioned before - there are thirteen endings and many, many “game over” death scenes. just in the base game! there are some scenarios i can use from the sequel game, or the short novels as well. if you’re interested in seeing aki’s death compilation (he has the most character deaths in zeno - and all of the creator’s other games) i’m happy to run through them. if you’d like to encounter either of the chaser enemies from the game - being tsugino & fuyu - i can do that as well! though i’ll ask our fuyu writer for permission, to write a data imprint of fuyu from the facility, or have them join in. 

from the short novels - you do have a chance to interact with IF verse (slight changes - a “what if?” scenario) versions of aki, or himself as a child.

overall, i’m happy to just explore the various branching paths of ZENO, and the different versions of aki i might be able to use for it!

[unfinshedsentec]

I miss manila mikey so may I request him teaching f!reader to shoot a gun, but reader is so out of focus because mikey is so close, hands touching, and reader can smell his sweet scent combination of taiyakis and baby cologne, she’s feelin dizzy & too tempted to hug him

Hey love! Thank you so much for requesting! It’s Mikey’s birthday so I figured, what better time to write this than now?

Hope you enjoy!

HUGS AND GUNS—MANJIRO SANO

happy birthday to Mikey! I love him but he makes me sad…oh well, here’s fluff for his birthday <3

reader is gender neutral!

character pairing: manjiro sano x reader

tw: cursing and mentions of guns/shooting

MONDAY, AUGUST 1ST, 8:00 AM

The morning was particularly cold for a summer morning. Although the morning sun shined over Tokyo, you shivered. Even your jacket wasn’t enough to keep you warm. Casually, you leaned into your boyfriend as he led you into one of the many buildings he owned.

“How much longer, Mikey?”, you quietly asked, wanting to escape the cold.

“Just a couple more minutes” he replied, rubbing your shoulders. Carefully, he held onto his gun, making sure it was in a safe place. You couldn’t help but feel some sort’ve anxiety to be the one to hold that very handgun.

You had to admit, you never thought you’d be someone to be in a place to have to learn to use a gun. The dammed things were illegal in Japan, and you, being a normal citizen of Japan, just never looked in a gun’s direction. That and you were never put in a place where you even thought about using one.

But then, you met your boyfriend, Mikey.

Mikey is dangerous man. He’s the leader of one of the most, if not the most dangerous gang in Japan. Naturally, he gets into some pretty nasty situations, and has done some pretty bad stuff. But no matter how terrible he is, he’s the person you love. Your past self might look down on you for loving someone like him, but you don’t care. You love him, and he loves you all. That’s all that matters.

Unfortunately, loving him has consequences. Namely, his enemies.

Ever since you and Mikey became serious, a lot of his enemies started targeting you. They’d aim to hurt, kidnap, and even kill you…all to get to Mikey and Toman as a whole. Luckily, you’ve had Mikey’s or his goonies protection when enemies attack, so you were safe. But that won’t always be the case. They could strike when you least expect it. Therefore, you had to learn to protect yourself.

And what better way than to learn how to use a gun?

Now, you’re here, following Mikey into a quite building, holding your own gun. It was a strange feeling to hold a gun in your hands. And to be honest, a part of you was anxious knowing what you could do with it. But you knew Mikey would teach you how to use it and how to use it right, and you’d be just fine.

Plus, you had to admit, you were a little excited to get some one-on-one time with Mikey.

“Y/n?” Mikey said, snapping you out of your thoughts. The heat of the warm building flowed onto you, allowing a sigh to come from your mouth. You couldn’t be happier to be inside.

“Hmmm?”, you hummed, looking in his direction.

“You ready?”

You looked at Mikey for second and noticed the hint of worry in his eyes. Even he was hesitant about this, but you do what you have to do.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

“Good”, he replied, taking some Taiyaki out of his pocket. “Let’s gear up then”

Silently, you followed Mikey to some gear that was left out. It wasn’t much, just some eye and ear protection, but it was a precaution Mikey wanted you to take. Not that you minded. You’d do anything to stay safe. Mikey on the other hand, only put on the glasses. He didn’t need the protection quite as much. You had to admit though, he looked really good with them on.

In fact, Mikey in general looked really good that day. Since he too had just woken up, his black hair was still a bit of ruffled mess. His eyes were droopy, and his voice was raspy from being tired. That morning he threw something quick and easy on, so he walked out the door with his usual tank top and joggers, forgetting his button up. You weren’t complaining though, the tank top really showed off his muscular arms. And as he walked over to you and placed his hand on your back, you couldn’t help but blush.

He looked really good that day.

Unfortunately, he was only leading you towards the shooting range; much to your disappointment.

“You ready?”, he whispered, his voice still husky.

“I suppose so”

“Alright”, he sighed, running his fingers though his hair. “Let’s go over some things first.”

For the next few minutes, Mikey explained the process of shooting, and what it would feel like. He told you what to expect and reassured you would absolutely be fine with him there. Intently you listened but you had to admit, you couldn’t help but get silently distracted by how good your boyfriend looked. The way his hair fell slightly of his place on his forehead just made you melt.

“Let’s give this thing a shot now”, Mikey said, finishing his explanation. Shakily, you nodded your head and faced the wall. Step-by step, he told you how to pred the gun and load it. And luckily, you were doing great! You managed to do everything fine! You looked over at Mikey, only to see a proud smile on his face, and slowly you became more confident.

That was until you were actually shooting. You couldn’t help but still feel nervous. And as you pointed to gun at the target in front of you, that became apparent. A cold sweat dropped down on your face as you began attempting to focus, when suddenly, you felt a warm hand on your waist.

Mikey’s body pressed against yours as he placed his hands over yours. The scent of his cologne and Taiyaki filled the air, and instantly, your focus went away. The way his hair just barely fell over his eyes, and the way you could feel his muscles pressed against you made you dizzy. The focused look on his face only made him look even better, so much so that you could feel your own focus slip away.

“Just relax”, he huskily whispered in your ear. Slowly he laid his finger over top yours on the trigger and began putting pressure on it. When he noticed you weren’t responding, he took a glance at you. Instantly, your eyes snapped away, and a bright blush formed your face. Once again, you tried focusing on the target. But your nerves just wouldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t help but look back at Mikey and lean into him.

As you looked at him, you realized how much you just wanted a hug from him. This was all overwhelming, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. You wanted to bury your head into the crook of his neck and let all the stress slip away. But you were determined. You were going to shoot this, and then you were going to hug Mikey whether he wanted to or not.

“Are we gonna shoot or what?” you whispered, looking at the target determined. You had to admit, as dazed as Mikey was making you, he definitely made you more relaxed. Though, you were most definitely fighting against the urge to look back at Mikey and tightly wrap you arms around him.

Mikey grinned, before adding more pressure to the trigger. “Let’s get this show on the road then”

Then, you felt a surprising amount of pressure and an unimaginable loud bang. A shock came back and hit your hand, and surprisingly, you felt yourself flinch. But other than that, you felt exhilarated. Excitedly you looked back at Mikey with a big smile, only to see the proudest look on his face.

“I DID IT!” you yelled, finally leaping into Mikey’s arms. Mikey, although slightly taken back, gladly hugged you. His arms tightly wrapped around you as he rested his head on top of yours. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and relaxed into the touch you longed for so much.

“You sure did”

You couldn’t help but laugh from excitement. Sure, this was shooting a gun, but still it was exciting. It gave you a feeling like no other. And shockingly, you found yourself looking forward to giving it another shot. But not right now. Right now, all you cared about was being in Mikey’s arms, inhaling his scent and leaning into his warmth. And trust me, nothing made you happier than to stay in his arms for the next few hours, just talking.

This man really is your savior, whether he realizes it or not.

masterlist || reblogs are very appreciated <3

[thatgirl4815]

Knights, Kings, & Queens♟

Ok @luckydragon10, you inspired me with that chess post so I’m going to attempt to tackle this knight discussion as best as I can because I do agree that their placement seems somewhat peculiar. I will undoubtedly go off on a few chess tangents in this post, so I’ll apologize in advance.

Usually, the knights are facing forward, toward the opponent. More than likely, the pieces were set up facing Kim simply to show them off, but because chess plays such a symbolic role in Korn’s plans, I think their positioning is notable to emphasize Kim in relation to the knight piece specifically. (Hopefully you won’t mind if I use your original picture from your post.)

So far, we seem to have established that Porsche is the queen piece and Kinn is the king piece because, while Kinn receives protection and remains the focus of the game, Porsche leads this protection. Also, not to get too far off, but I would argue that the queen piece is the main character of the game because she is the most powerful piece; that being said, she also needs protection because, while it’s possible to win without her, it becomes much more difficult for the king to stay protected. All of this aligns with Kinn and Porsche as characters so far. KP are both main characters, but Porsche gets the limelight in the context of the show while Kinn gets the limelight in the context of his world within the show. Porsche is more of a traditional main character because his struggles are more typical of standard protagonists (not to say Kinn isn’t a main character, but I think this distinction is worth making).

Before I get into Kim and knights, I’m going to break this down a little clearer based on my own conclusions about the character-chess symbols:

Kinn: King

Porsche: Queen

Korn: Player

Kim: Knight

*Going by these matches, I would say Vegas is the opposing king and Pete (eventually) the opposing queen? But Pete is currently on Kinn’s side, so we’ll have to wait and see how this match pans out. *EDIT: @cornyonmains made an interesting post about the potential for Pete representing the bishop piece, which you can read about more here.

Kim as a Knight

So, Kim as a knight. Inside and outside of chess, knights are defenders of the crown. I was originally inclined to name bodyguards like Arm, Ken, and Big as knights in this metaphor, but reading your post made me think about just how much Kim suits this piece.

Unlike pawns, knights have resources that others do not have. They work in service of the crown, but they are afforded a level of respect that other defenders do not typically receive. So far, this aligns with Kim as the third son of the mafia. He has resources and status. Knights are also often well-trained; good ones learn the weaknesses of their enemies before striking. Finally, knights are not in the spotlight. They defend behind the scenes, as Kim seems to be doing. A devoted knight would reasonably do some digging into his king’s allies. Kim probably assumes that Porsche is a traitorous knight (notice I say knight instead of pawn, though I could also see Porsche as a rook in Kim’s eyes) who could easily gain power and retaliate against Kinn—that’s one of the reasons why he has decided to investigate him (in addition to trying to unveil his father’s secrets). I think Kim would be even more passionate about his investigation if he knew that Porsche was actually the queen. Kim doesn’t realize how closely connected Kinn and Porsche are; otherwise, I wonder if he would take more concrete action to warn Kinn about Porsche (even though the audience knows that he has no reason for concern about Porsche’s motives). It also makes me wonder just how much Kim knows about Kinn’s past relationship with Tawan. Could that be one of the reasons why Kim is so devoted to learning more about Porsche—to protect his brother from another betrayal? I think his efforts would make even more sense if he knew what happened to Kinn before.

(*Had to include a smiling picture of Kim because Jeff deserves to be looked at.)

Bringing this all back to the chess metaphor: Kim as a knight is unique. Knights are the only piece that move in an ‘L’ formation, capable of hopping over other pieces. How does this relate to Kim? Well, Kim’s storyline feels very separate from the rest of the plot, and I think this is why. The settings and mood all feel different, very loosely connected to the main plot. Kim is (at least in my opinion from what we know) trying to weed out potential issues, but he’s doing so at a distance 1) because it’s safer and probably more fruitful and 2) because we know he really doesn’t want to be involved in the mafia life if he doesn’t have to. It’s better this way.

Korn as the player

Now, to bring Korn back into this. As the player, he has control of all pieces; however, we’ve seen him steadily lose control over the past few episodes. Kim has gone rogue in his attempts to dig into Porsche’s background and Kinn consistently pushes against Korn’s orders by pursuing Porsche. Korn’s greatest fear at this point is losing control, but I think he’s beginning to realize how quickly it’s slipping away from him. I suspect he will take stronger action soon to retaliate (like he did when he sent Porsche to work with Vegas in Ep7).

Ok, as promised, I went off quite a few times, but this is my general interpretation of Kim as a knight in the chess metaphor. I’ll probably think of more connections later, but hopefully this made some sort of sense. The chess metaphor is ultimately so fruitful that it would be a shame not to dive into it at every opportunity. It’s not completely straightforward, but I think there are some natural connections we can make. :)

[sinner-as-saint]

we can’t stop, we’re enemies.

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader AU

Run-through: After the events of the last battle against Thanos, you teamed up with Sam and Bucky to carry on your superhero duties. You got along with Sam just fine, he was a really good friend to you. Bucky however, was not. From constant banters, to unnecessary hand-to-hand combat, to purposely getting each other in trouble during risky missions, to being the main cause of Sam’s migraines; it was safe to say that you and Bucky considered yourselves to be each other’s nemesis. Although that soon changes when, courtesy of your silly banters, a certain mission goes slightly wrong - one which involves strong chemicals which, unbeknownst to you, were designed to mess with the brain and hormones, thus encouraging the need to breed and procreate amongst all those who inhale it...

Themes: enemies-to-lovers, smut, sex pollen trope, dirty talk, swear words, fluff

“How is it going up there Sam, talk to me.” 

You spoke, waiting to hear from Sam through the ear piece. 

The three of you were on a mission on unfamiliar lands. Rumor had it that some shady organization was conducting illegal experiments. The whole location was spooky, and you needed to be thorough and quick. So Sam decided to get an aerial view along with Red Wing, and see if there are any threats coming your way while you and Bucky decided to check out the underground laboratories. 

The whole place was shadowy and old, it almost seemed like no one had been here in a long time. But still, these people were criminals so you had to gather every evidence you could which would lead you their way. 

And so far, after exploring the place for the past half an hour, you found nothing major. Just weird laboratory glassware filled with liquids and what not. 

“Sam?” you called out again into the ear piece, keeping your gun at the ready. “Say something damn it.” 

His reply came. “There’s something sketchy about the building at the back, I’m gonna go check it out. But you have to promise me you won’t kill each other by the time I get back.” 

You and Bucky sent death glares at each other in disgust. He was on the other side of the lab, flipping through files and papers, while you were searching the cabinets and drawers. The two of you were separated by a steel workstation. Dark leather jacket, metal arm exposed; you’d find him handsome if he wasn’t so annoying. 

“Sure, whatever.” Bucky mumbled, being his grumpy self. 

You frowned at him, “Dude, drop your fucking attitude.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam roared through the ear piece, “Enough! Focus, you two are in the labs and we don’t know what’s in there. Just, maybe look out for each other. Okay? I’m going in.”

“Be careful, Sam.” You spoke, sending another dirty look at Bucky. 

“Yeah y-,” 

Sam got cut off. All you could hear was some static noises and then complete silence. 

“Sam? Can you hear us?” Bucky tried reaching out but neither of you could hear him. “This isn’t good.” 

“Damn it!” You cursed. “Maybe he flew out of range. Or maybe we’re too deep under.” 

For once in his life he nodded, agreeing with you. “Let’s just hurry up and see what we can find. We need to get out of here as fast as we can and get to the Jet.” He said, flipping through more and more files and papers, his metal arm glistening in the poorly lit room. 

You sassed in the same tone he used before, “Don’t tell me what to do.” And you earned yourself another glare from him. 

Fifteen minutes later and you two still had nothing to work with. 

“This is useless. There’s nothing here, this is just bullshit.” Bucky complained, slamming down a file on the workstation so hard that it made you jump. 

You were annoyed. You slammed a cabinet shut and turned to face him. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is work getting too tiring? Do you need a break? Hmm?” 

“Shut up, you’re the one who keeps whining all the time.” He wasn’t wrong. 

You stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the cold workstation. “Well maybe if you’d quit complaining and actually do your part of the job, then I wouldn’t have to whine about always doing everything on my own and you taking credit for it in front of Sam.” 

He leaned forward, his metal arm already denting his side of the edge of the workstation. “Maybe if you’d stop bitching about everything and everyone all the time then maybe we’d get along and actually get shit done.” 

You leaned in too. “Or maybe if just me and Sam teamed up, we’d work better. I still don’t know why he keeps you around. Take your metal arm away, what are you? Exactly, just a hundred year old, confused man.” 

He smirked. “And what are you? Just a spoilt, whiny brat who knows how to use a gun?” He knew just what to say to get the reaction he wanted out of you. 

In less than a few seconds you had your loaded gun out in front of you, aiming it at his forehead. “And guess what, she never misses a target.” You spat at him. 

You had done this before; aiming guns at each other until Sam comes to break the tension. But Sam wasn’t here this time. 

Bucky knew you would never pull the trigger on him so he gave you a handsome, arrogant smirk which only pissed you off even more. “Come on, shoot.” He provoked you. 

“Stop pissing me off.” You warned. 

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me for calling you a whiny, spoilt brat? See, that’s exactly what brats do.” 

“James, stop.” Oh he was getting on your nerves. You were agitated. 

He just smirked and went on. “I actually believe that that might be your superpower, destroying people by annoying them to death with how much of a brat you can actually be.” 

You glared at him, unmoving, furious. You placed your forefinger on the trigger. “Say brat one more time and I will blow your fucking head off and when Sam asks, I’ll make it seem like an accident.” 

He leaned closer, aligning his forehead to the barrel of your gun. He stared at you with his stormy, ocean blue eyes; inciting you to just pull the damn trigger. He watched you with mischief in his eyes. “Brat.” He mouthed, smirking right after and waiting for your reaction. 

You clenched your jaw and shifted your aim just a little so that the bullet misses him but still shoots right by his ear. You pulled the trigger without hesitation, shooting at the shelf filled with dark red and brown liquids behind Bucky. 

Bucky maintained his calm and composure despite the loud sound of the shattering glass falling on the tiles right behind him. “Brat.” He said again, out loud this time. 

“I hate you.” You lowered your gun but then noticed something behind Bucky. Smoke, or some sort of vapor oozing out of the broken flasks and test tubes. You froze for a second. “Bucky, look.” You walked around the workstation and joined him on the other side. 

The vapor quickly filled the room like thick fog, reducing visibility and making your throat burn a little. You coughed; once, twice. You looked beside you and Bucky was standing there with a look of horror on his face. 

The moment his supersoldier sense got a whiff of the vapor, something in him ignited. No… 

“We have to get out of here. Now.” You heard his voice, then felt his cold fingers wrap around your wrists as he tugged you along, making his way out of the lab. He tried to hold his breath but he couldn’t hold it very long. He tried to find the door to exit the room but that was hard too because neither of you could see properly. 

“This stuff,” you spoke in between coughs, “will probably kill us, won’t it?” You held on tightly to his arm. “You need to get us out of here now.” The vapor was reducing your visibility more and more. 

He felt the side of the wall, looking for the metal handle of the door through which you entered the lab. “It won’t kill us.” He growled as he looked beside him. You were standing close to him, so close, holding on to his arm tightly, a thin layer of sweat covered your face. 

It was almost funny how you had your gun aimed at him just a minute ago and now you were relying on him for protection. 

“How can you be so sure? Do you know what this stuff is?” You asked. 

He sighed. He knew. “I have a hunch, but let’s hope I’m wrong.” He felt warm. Deep inside something stirred in him. Animalistic, primal, feral. It was there, pressing and burning. Guess he wasn’t wrong. 

He finally found the door and he pushed it open, letting the two of you out and you took off running at once. You tried to reach Sam. A couple tries later, he finally responded. “I got some names, I think we got what we’re looking for. Where are you guys?” 

“We found…. uh, nothing. We’re on our way to the jet, meet us there.” Bucky responded, running beside you. 

You were confused out of your mind, not to mention you felt feverish. Hot, and you were sweating more than usual in places you’d rather not think about. Something in you was yearning to break free. You felt chained, you needed release. You felt like something had awakened inside of you; a deep hunger. Aroused, you felt aroused. Or was it just the adrenaline rush? 

By the time you tried to figure out what was actually going on with you, you both had made it to the Jet. 

“I feel sick.” you mumbled, stumbling on your way inside the jet. “I think… I think that smoke poisoned me.” You placed your palm against the side of the plane to hold on so you don’t fall. You felt like gravity wasn’t pulling you down anymore. You were a little out of breath. 

Then you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. You grimaced as it only ignited the fire which you just found out had been burning inside you since you left the lab. 

“You’re not poisoned. You’re not sick, you’re gonna be okay. We just have to… we have to get home.” Bucky was worse than you were. His enhanced senses allowed him to feel everything you felt, times ten perhaps. 

His heart raced as he got a whiff of your fading perfume, mixed with the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your natural, raw scent. He could feel your arousal from here, and it pulled him in so easily. All he wanted to do was to tear your suit off, pin you up against the side of the Jet and fuck the living hell out of you, stretch you out and just rail you until you could no longer take it. 

Fuck. 

You looked up at him; heart racing, palms sweating and even your mouth was salivating more than usual. “You know what that thing was, don’t you?” You asked, ignoring the way his cold hand upon your shoulder made you want to lean into his touch even more. “What was it?” 

You saw the look in his hooded eyes. Bucky sighed, pulling his hand away from you and the loss of contact made you whimper ever so quietly. You felt warmer and more and more breathless with each second that passed by. 

“They used to make those substances, long ago back when I was with HYDRA. I didn’t expect to find those here. They were used to… to try and see if they could get super soldiers to procreate naturally.” Bucky explained and waited for your reaction. 

“Sex pollen. Correct?” 

He nodded, “Yes.” 

You were a little shaken, but relieved knowing that at least it wasn’t poison and you wouldn’t be dying a painful death. “That’s… I mean, it could have been poison.” You didn’t know how to react after you pieced it all together. “How long before it wears off?” 

“Twenty-four hours unless...” 

“Unless what?” 

“Unless you fuck it out of your system well enough.”

That had you surprised. “Oh. Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Fucking perfect. I’m screwed.” 

Bucky tried his hardest to refrain himself from leaning in and biting that sassy mouth of yours, shoving his tongue past your lips to shut you up, to hear you moan and gasp and cry out his name as he takes you however he wants to… 

“We.” He corrected you. “It’ll get worse every hour.” He replied. 

You sighed and moved away from him, unzipping your combat suit partly and removing the jacket because you couldn’t handle the heat. Bucky cursed as you stripped into just a tank top and tight pants, right in front of him. He felt his cock get harder. 

“Can you not?” He sounded pissed off again; frustrated. “This is all your doing. The least you can do is make this a little bit easier for both of us.” 

His words made you turn around and glare at him. “How is this my doing? I didn’t even know what was in that lab.” 

He stepped forward, instinctively. The sight of your exposed neck and your soft skin was making him think of unspeakable things that he wanted to do to you. As he advanced, you tried not to look down at his cock, straining against his zipper. Your heart raced as you took in the size of his bulge. Enhanced super soldier indeed. 

“Had you not been a spoiled brat who can’t take a joke, you wouldn’t have tried to shoot at me nor would you have shot those flasks!” He argued, feeling more and more warm as he got closer to you. 

You took a step forward as well, fueled by annoyance, lust and anger. “Who was it who provoked me into doing that because they couldn’t keep their fucking mouth shut, huh? That’s right, your annoying ass!” 

Bucky pushed you against the side of the Jet without a second thought. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with his hand while pressing his body into you, his metal arm circling around your waist and pressing you further into him. 

He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought about how your warm breath would feel against his skin, or how warm your body would be under his touch. You felt feverish, having him this close. His tall, large frame and his tight grip made your whimper under him. Your body reacted to him naturally. 

All you felt was warm, his body heat, his scent. The feeling of his cold leather jacket against your flushed skin. You wanted him. Or rather, your body did. 

“Don’t you provoke me now, you fucking whiny brat.” He whispered, menacingly into your ear. 

You tried to ignore the shivers his voice sent down your entire body. But he saw it. And you could feel his erection press against your crotch. Just to mess with him, you discreetly moved your hips against his, making him hiss loudly. 

“What are you gonna do about it, dipshit?” You sassed, knowing that given his intensified senses he must be feeling much worse than you. 

He groaned as you kept grinding against him, your pulsating core rubbing against the bulge in his pants. And that only made it worse for both of you. 

“Fuck…” Bucky swore, before quickly pulling away from you, but not releasing you yet. “You’re such a bitch.” His body was screaming for you, each nerve ending of his was on fire. A fire only you could douse. 

You were just the same, on the edge and wanting to reach out for him; knowing he would satiate your hunger better than anyone could. Your body was throbbing as you stared into his eyes, your gaze lowering down to his dog tags. How you wanted those dangling right above your face… 

You heard someone clear their throat. It wasn’t Bucky. 

“Something you two need to tell me? Or is this just your new way of trying to kill each other?” A deep voice asked from behind Bucky. 

“Sam! Are you okay?” You escaped Bucky’s grip and rushed to Sam. 

He seemed alright to you. He nodded. “Yeah, we just need to get home. I need to notify the team and see what we should do next. What was in those labs?” 

You glared at Bucky. His smug face alone was pissing you off, but God right now you wanted to ride that man until the sun came tomorrow morning. 

“Just a bunch of useless experiments. Nothing major.” He glared at you as he said the last bit to Sam. 

The ride back home was one of the most painful, annoying and frustrating situations you had ever undergone. Each time you felt like someone was watching you, you’d turn your head to the side and find Bucky staring; and his stares would make your body tremble in need. 

Meanwhile he was having a hard time too, in more ways than one. He could feel his blood rush south even at the brief sound of your voice whenever you sighed in annoyance or talked to Sam. Luckily the latter could not pick up on the thick, sexual tension. 

Once at the compound, you each hurried to your own rooms and that’s where you stayed until the evening. Sam found it weird that you both skipped dinner but he didn’t need another headache today so he went to bed, telling himself that he’d deal with you two tomorrow morning. 

Bucky was a mess. Even after an hour under the cold shower his body was still calling out for you. He tried taking care of his business on his own, but that wasn’t working. He was still so hard it was painful. Nothing could make this better, nothing could soothe the pain - nothing but you. He needed you so badly it was driving him insane, like he was an animal in heat being asked to suppress his feral desires towards his mate. Being away from you was painful. He couldn’t help but hate you for no reason at all usually, but he’d do what it takes to be inside you and make you scream his name right now. 

You were equally as troubled at the super soldier. You tried taking a warm bath and tried to think of other things you could focus on, but nothing worked. Your toys didn’t seem appealing tonight, you needed him, all of him. You shivered at the thought of his taut, virile body under yours, or above. His masculine scent, the sound of his moans, would he bite?… fuck. You could feel your arousal leak out of you every now and then, it was insane how aroused you were. You couldn’t look at him for long without getting unnecessarily annoyed, but you would do anything just to have him rearrange your guts right now. 

What made it worse was that neither of you could stand each other at all. Enemies, you called yourselves. But right now you couldn’t help but crave each other in the most salacious way possible. 

Fuck this. You couldn’t take this anymore. You decided to swallow your pride and make your way to his room and ask him if you two could come to an agreement on how to fight this thing because it would be impossible to go another twenty hours feeling like this. You were burning from the inside. This was unbearable. 

Just as you opened your bedroom door, you were slightly surprised to find Bucky standing right outside your door. His metal hand up midair, as though he was to knock on your door and you happened to open the door just in time. You almost drooled at the sight of him; sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt. You swallowed and cleared your throat. 

“Hey.” You greeted him, not knowing how to deal with this situation. You felt so drawn to him in that moment, so damn restless and needy that it was hard to breathe right while looking at him. 

“I was, uh, about to knock…” He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t remember. Maybe it was the chemicals messing with his brain and turning him into a hungry beast. He didn’t care that he was knocking on your door in the middle of the night, he wanted you. He was craving you and that’s all he knew. Also the oversized t-shirt, the only you were wearing at the time, was not helping at all. 

“Yeah, um…” you rambled then stopped talking the moment you found him staring into your eyes with a wild look in his eyes. 

That was it. 

You grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. Before Bucky could process anything, you had him pushed against your closed door and your mouth was on his, kissing him hungrily. Your hands slowly slipped under his tight t-shirt and you lazily trailed your hands up and down his toned abs. 

His hands gripped your hips on either side as he kissed you back with just as much ardor as you did. His body ignited the moment he felt your lips and hands on him, yet the heat was weirdly satisfying; it stimulated him but calmed him down at the same time. It felt perfect. This was just what he needed, you. 

Your movements were rapid and passionate, fiery. Hands roaming each other's body, touching and feeling and exploring; making each other moan like you were both touch-starved. 

You let out a soft moan when you felt his tongue slip past your lips, stroking the top of your mouth while his metal hand slipped under your shirt. Your body was tingling wherever he touched you. His touch made you feel way better than you had felt in the past few hours and you were grateful. Your moans sent his mind straight to the gutter and he couldn’t wait to be inside you. 

“I need you…” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away to catch your breath. “I need you to fuck me… right here, right now.” Your demands made him smirk as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes. 

“Oh?” he managed to still find the energy to be an ass to you. “Why don’t you go on and beg for it, then?” 

You scoffed, leaning in to lick his lips while you hand dipped into his pants. You grabbed his erected cock and gave it a little, gentle squeeze. He moaned like he hadn’t been touched in forever. Like he was desperate for one thing and one thing only; you. You whispered, “You need me too, Bucky. I’m not gonna beg you, I’m doing you a favor here.” You slid your closed fist up and down his length and made him moan some more before you let go and watched him groan and clench his jaw in annoyance. 

He looked down at you, panting in need just as you were. His hand slid into your hair and he gripped it, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp in pleasure and pain. “Still a fucking brat with that annoying attitude I see?” He leaned in to bite your exposed neck, making your cry out in pain before he licked the spot, soothing it. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you.” 

He let go of your hair but tightened his grip around your waist as he placed his mouth back on yours. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow; biting your lip and bruising your already swollen mouth. He was wild, and you needed it and more. 

He pushed you down on your bed, and stood back to watch you for a moment. How did he never realize that you were so naturally beautiful? He looked down at you like a predator looking at his meal; fiercely, ready to ruin you and make you scream and beg and satiate his hunger. As well as yours. 

“Well, if you’re done staring…” you knelt on your bed and reached out for him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him closer. “I want you in me. Now.” Your demanding tone riled him up. 

Bucky grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back again. “If you wanna get fucked, you’re gonna ask nicely. Understood?” 

You glared at him, shooting death glares right at him while your hand palmed him through his sweatpants. “I fucking hate you.” You spat at him, whimpering as he pushed you back down on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you this time. 

“I hate you too.” He knelt on your bed, straddling your waist as he tore your oversized shirt in half and off your body, throwing the pieces of fabric somewhere on your bedroom floor. You laid beneath him in just your underwear and he growled. 

“That was my favorite shirt, you fucking idiot.” You whispered, breathless, shivers dancing down your spine as he traced your mouth with his two fingers, slipping them past your lips once, then twice then trailing his now wet fingers down your neck, till your belly button. 

“You think I care?” he leaned down and took one of your breasts into his mouth, kneading the other with his metal hand. The contrast of his warm mouth around one and his cold hand around the other was driving you crazy. He bit, and tugged and licked; making your back arch off the bed as you purred in pleasure. 

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his erection again to try and alleviate the pain. You were desperate. Bucky pinched and rolled one of your nipples while he lightly grazed the other with his teeth, and you let out a loud moan. 

“Please… please, I need you. Please…” You muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear you. Bucky smirked as he pulled away from your chest, ignoring the way his cock throbbed. “What’s so fucking funny?” You grabbed him by the throat, pulling his face closer to yours. 

His metal arm reached down in between your legs and he ripped your underwear off. The fabric hurt just a little when it tore against your skin. “Just that it's the first time I heard you asking for something so politely. It’s not so hard after all, is it?” 

Now he was pissing you off. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and flipped the two of you around. You got on top of him and straddled his waist, trapping him under you like he had you before. You had better control like this. 

You grabbed him by the jaw and leaned in to kiss his lips, fiercely. “Stop fucking playing, Barnes.” You whispered against his lips, grinding against his hard cock again. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as you kissed down to his neck, nibbling on his skin along his throat. 

He moaned, hands gripping your hips and guiding you as you rubbed your bare core against his clothed erection. “No? I thought brats liked games?” He mumbled. 

You pulled away from his neck and looked down at his smug face. “You are so fucking annoying.” You reached down in between your bodies and lowered his sweatpants all the way down until he kicked them off. You grabbed his cock and stroked him gently, agonizingly slow. He moaned shamelessly, and eventually caught on that you were just teasing him even more. 

“Don’t tease me…” he sounded just as breathless as you were. 

“Why? Not so fond of games anymore?” you sassed, rubbing your throbbing core against his thigh while you stroked him so gently that he felt like he was losing his mind. 

He growled as he grabbed you by the waist and flipped the two of you around, him being on top again. “Enough,” he growled in your ear, “Spread those legs for me.” He ordered, settling in between them as you spread your legs to accommodate him. He grabbed your thighs and parted your legs even more as he aligned the tip of his cock to your opening. “Now stay still, don’t move.” 

You braced yourself for him, but nothing could have prepared you for that. His length stretched you open until he was seated deep inside you, filling you up entirely to a point where you couldn’t even think of anything else other than him being balls deep inside you. 

You moaned as he removed himself entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear, “Fuck….” you heard him moan; panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. He kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you over and over again, making your eyes tear up. The burning need subsided a little bit as his cock brushed against all the right spots inside you. “Buck… faster, please,” You whimpered. 

He chuckled into your ear, “Needy little brat…” he mumbled as he sped up into you, making you lose your ability to focus on anything else other than him and his body. He pulled away from your face to look down at you, his metal hand coming up to wrap itself around your throat. “This is what you wanted since we left that lab, huh? For me to fuck your greedy little cunt? Hmm?” He taunted as he stretched you out completely. You lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist; allowing him to thrust deeper into you. 

You felt tears escaping your eyes as he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours fucking deeper into you. He was relentless; each moan which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough. 

You felt a pressure form in between your hips, your body begging for release. “Bucky… please.” You moaned, begging. For something, anything. You’d take anything at this point. But right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he pulled out. 

“Please what?” He surprised himself with how he was able to tease you in this situation when all he wanted was to make both of you cum over and over again. 

“I need to cum, Bucky please,” you cried, with tears in your eyes. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your swollen lips, not minding the tears. “Do you deserve it?” He asked, and you nodded immediately, your body shaking with how bad you needed to cum. “Oh you do, do you?” 

You nodded again. “Please…please...” 

“Well since you asked nicely…” Bucky flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his muscular body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again. 

He rocked into you from behind. His hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm against your lower abdomen. He liked how he could feel himself deep inside you with each thrust. And he liked how that drove you insane, he could by the way your walls gripped his cock. 

“Feel that, little brat? That’s all you’re good for… to take my cock like a good little slut.” He whispered. 

You groaned at the sound of his raspy voice, his words making you milk him even harder. “You wish, you dipshit.” You moaned as he sped up when you least expected it. You whimpered, and he chuckled now that he had you at his mercy. 

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he choked you gently as he bent down to whisper in your ear, “I can assure you that no one is ever gonna fuck you this good,” he boasted as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “Fuck… please....” you cried. 

You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “Cum for me. Now.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. You came undone, hard and fast; moaning his name as you did. Bucky came right after you. 

You collapsed onto your bed, sprawled unevenly and not even caring. Your eyes were shut in fatigue, your heart racing and you could feel Bucky’s body heat right next to you. He was catching his breath too, mumbling something under his breath which you couldn’t catch. 

For the first time in hours, you felt at ease. Your body wasn’t yearning anymore, but the hunger was still there. So when Bucky got up to leave, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back into bed with you. 

He smirked as he fell helplessly onto your bed again, right next to you. “You want more, you greedy little brat?” 

You punched his arm before getting up and getting on top of him again, sliding your body down his cock. He hissed as you did. 

“Just another round.” You whispered, loving the sight of him under you. His tan skin against your white sheets, him moaning as you slowly lifted up and sank back down on his cock. Oh fuck… 

You placed your hands on his muscular chest to hold yourself up as you sped up, riding him like you’ve been dreaming of this whole time. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you up and down his cock until you both found a pleasurable pace. 

You weren’t going to last too long, but you just needed to have him buried deep inside you again. His thick, girthy cock stretched you open as you took him as best you could, moaning and whimpering desperately as he groaned and gasped under you. 

Your walls gripping him and milking him like they had earlier, not even a few minutes ago. You felt the pressure forming nicely in between your hips again. You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock reach places it hadn’t before, turning you into a mess. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he brought you down on his cock with force each time and thrusting upwards to fuck you deeper. “Cum for me.” He threw his head back, growling. “Cum for me again…” 

Your hand grabbed him by the jaw and you leaned in to press your lips against his, claiming his open mouth and muffling his animalistic growls as you came undone around him again. Your orgasm then triggered his. 

You fell limp on top of him right after and he instinctively cradled your head. “You okay?” 

You nodded, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other but neither of you minding it. “Yeah.” 

Bucky gently rolled to his side, letting you down on your side of the bed. You tried your best to calm your racing heart. Not to mention you felt much, much better than earlier. 

Bucky got up to leave again, and you grabbed his hand before he got completely out of your bed. He turned to face you with a smirk then groaned dramatically, “Woman please, I’m not a machine. The pain will subside now, I believe we’ve done pretty good at fucking it out of our systems. I can’t go all night, seriously.” 

You were in a haze so his words made you giggle. “You’re really leaving?” 

He looked down at you, sprawled on your bed. Your face was glowing, you looked ethereal. “You want me to stay?” He asked, wondering where the sassy brat in you went. 

You nodded. 

He smirked, getting back into bed next to you, “What, now you're obsessed with me?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up. I’m just saying since I might need you again in the morning, you might as well just sleep here.”  

He pretended to be hurt. “Wow.” He didn’t mind that at all. He got under the covers with you, “So… is it just the chemicals or are we…?” 

You snuggled closer to his side, he wrapped his arm around you, tucking your head under his chin. “Shh, I still hate you.” Your tired, soft voice reminded him of a sleepy kitten. 

He held you closer. “Of course.” He looked down at you and saw that you had already fallen asleep on his chest. He cracked a soft smile, whispering under his breath, “Brat.”