#you can’t wear pants around him with holes because he’s a menace

[kingkatsuki]

I just know if you’re ever out and you rip a hole in your tights, Bakugou’s immediately sticking his finger inside it to make it bigger.

[fang-wife]

cw ;; mentions of rimming, unprotected sex, pegging, good boy izuku midoriya <3, quirkless college au, fem!reader

wanna be goody two-shoes izuku midoriyas deliquent gf so bad i want it more than anything in the world 

izuku midoriya the model student in his department at uni. good grades, even better standing with the staff. he’s never missed a class before, maintained a gpa of 4.1, the spokesperson and face of what it means to be a hard-worker. quirkless izuku midoriyas who studies support items and hero work. who does so well in school that naturally he’s the first person they call on to tame you. 

you, schoolwide deliquent. terrible records in terms of grades and attendance, average gpa - you do just enough to get by. but you have a reputation for trashing school property, being.. promiscuous, getting into violent fights with other students. you’re a streak on the schools reputation but they legally can’t get rid of you so they send their beloved goldstar student to fix you. if he can’t do it, no one can. 

all it takes is one tutoring session. you can barely pay attention because the schools golden boy is a tall, athletic but shy piece of ass. you can tell he finds you attractive in a forbidden kind of way - it’s so obvious. the ripped denim of your jeans, the tattered and loose clothes. he’s never been with anyone has he? one tutoring session and by the end of it you’ve got your pussy in his mouth - a hand in his hair. one session and you’ve got him babbling about how good you feel wrapped slick and tight around him. cums instantly but gets hard again in the same heartbeat. 

all it takes is one session for the whole school to find out your dating. you’ve taken a liking to the golden boy so you make him a deal after you’ve fucked him stupid. he’s your boyfriend and you show up to class at least twice a week - no biggie. but you’re still you, still a menace at heart. studying together in the spaces at the library turned to graphic public sex - his face pressed against the window as you rim him. milkin’ his cock real pretty as his glasses damn near fall of his face. 

izuku midoriya who starts to get these insatiable urges. who likes it when you bully and tease him and touch him - never knew how good it felt. who tries to maintain his composure when you wear too tight pants or too short skirts in front of him. who agrees to letting you fuck him in school bathrooms between classes even when he knows his ass will be sore all day. who moans as you joke about getting him knock up like this - jeans tugged just to his knees, cock leaking against his stomach and rutting against the stall door. strap deep in his stomach making him hiccup and sob. 

model student izuku midoriya who shows up to his programming class for the first time that semester with hickies all down his neck - blush spread down to his chest. scolds you as you snicker - kissing him hard by pulling his collar and telling him he better not look at single girl besides you or you’ll have to knock em out. that you’re the only one that gets to fuck his nerdy ass dry n drain him for all he’s worth. who gets hard because the idea of you fighting over him makes him so hard he cant think. whines and and gets so shy for you. 

izuku midoriya who agrees to let you have him for a whole night in a motel if you do well on your exams. lucky for you - you’re actually smart when you apply yourself. unlucky for him you get top-scores in your class. a promise is a promise of course. it’s only fair that you get to fuck him in a mating press until the sun comes up. completely fucked out that he’s shooting blanks, a clear stream of liquid. the bed messy with cum, hole puckered, shuddering from complete overstimulation

just... model student izuku n his deliquent gf who fights ppl... yeah... 

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader

TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk

AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy

A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.

Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.

Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.

By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.

“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”

Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”

Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”

“Stop..”

Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”

Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.

“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.

“T-Touya-nii!”

The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”

The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”

Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.

“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”

Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.

“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”

Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.

“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”

Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”

His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”

A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”

Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.

“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”

“Touya, please-”

A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”

His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”

Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”

The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”

Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”

With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”

A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.

“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”

His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.

What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.

The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.

“Say you love me.”

An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.

His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.

“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”

Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.

“Good girl, good little slut.”

His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”

Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.

Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.

“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”

— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru

[chil2de]

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

-

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Could I make a request (if you’re still taking them of course!) of y/n teasing Johnny?? And the effects of doing so? <33 Heh we love being a ✨brat✨ in this household

Congrats on the milestone xox

Pairing: boyfriend!johnny x f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: dom/sub, spanking, unprotected sex

Word count: 1k

A/N: my first johnny request! hope you like it and thanks for sending it in!

Johnny had invited you to watch them practice, and you were so excited to finally see your boyfriend and the rest of the group in action. You’d worn your workout leggings and a tank top because he’d mentioned you could join them for an informal session afterwards, and you were stoked for that too, having begged him to teach you some of their dance moves.

You entered the practice room when all of the members were already there, greeting you with high fives and hugs. But when Johnny saw you, there was an indecipherable look on his face.

“Hey babe,” he greeted you, slipping an arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Hi Johnny,” you replied, but you noticed he seemed distracted, his eyes shifting back and forth before they finally landed on you.

“Why are you wearing that?” he whispered, leaning in close to your ear.

“You told me to wear workout clothes,” you answered, “this is what I wear to work out.” You twirled to show him the outfit and his eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he took you in.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, “this is going to be a long practice session.”

He walked away, running a hand through his hair, and you smiled devilishly. You could have fun with this.

---

Throughout the practice you made sure that he could see what you were doing, whether you were leaning against the wall sticking your chest out, or practicing a move alongside them and making sure to jut your ass out as much as you could. You preened and pranced around, flaunting your curves at any chance you had. Johnny being the consummate professional though, only messed up once or twice after being distracted by your show.

When it came time for your informal lesson, he banished the rest of the members from the room, not without protest though, Taeyong insisting he had some moves to teach you. But Johnny was firm, and none of the members dared oppose him in that state, so they left quietly, Johnny locking the door of the practice room behind them.

“So what are you going to teach me today?” you asked excitedly, but he just turned to you, a hard look on his face.

“I’m going to teach you how to not be a fucking tease,” he answered, in a low voice that almost sounded menacing. You bit your lip, adrenaline spiking inside you at the prospect of what he was going to do. He stalked towards you and you almost flinched, but held your ground even as his six foot tall frame towered over you.

“Turn around,” he commanded, and when you didn’t, he turned your body for you, hands rough as he positioned you to face the mirror. He stood behind you, and in the mirror you could see his eyes on you, dark and heavy-lidded.

“You think you can wear that, and flaunt it in my face, distract me from practicing? Hm?” he held your chin with one hand, the other hand roaming over your stomach.

“You told me to wear workout clothes,” you protested, but inhaled sharply when his hand moved between your legs.

“I meant sweatpants and a t-shirt, not an outfit so fuckable I had to dance with a fucking boner,” he growled into your ear, hand cupping your pussy as he tilted your head up so he could suck on your neck.

“I’m s-sorry,” you moaned, as he sucked marks into your skin, fingers rubbing over the wetness that was dampening your panties and leggings.

“You’ll be sorry, alright,” he warned, suddenly bending you over and slapping your ass. You cried out, even through the layers of fabric the sting was easily felt. “You liked that?” he asked, and in the mirror you could see him smirking.

“Yes,” you whispered, and his hand came down again, a resounding smack echoing through the room.

“I can’t hear you, tell me again, did you like it?” he held your hips, pressing his hardened bulge against your ass, leaning down to speak in your ear.

“Yes, yes, I loved it!” you cried, and you were rewarded with another one, your panties getting wetter.

“Let’s try it with nothing in the way, shall we?” he proceeded to pull your leggings and panties down and whistled low when he saw how red your ass cheeks were. “Beautiful,” he whispered, rubbing the raw skin tenderly before he resumed spanking you.

“This is what you get for being a tease,” he growled, his voice sounding strained as his hand came down again and again. You could tell he was aching to fuck you, but enjoyed making your ass cheeks red too. Finally he yanked his pants and underwear down and in the mirror you caught sight of his face, eyes brimming with lust, before he thrust his cock into you.

A scream tore from your throat as he pounded into you from behind, the pain from his hips hitting the raw skin of your ass mixing with the pleasure of his cock drilling into you. He held you tightly by your hips, keeping you in place as he fucked you.

“You took your punishment like a good girl,” he groaned, “this is your reward.”

He fucked you so hard you saw stars in your vision, hitting so deep inside you it felt like he was rearranging your guts. You didn’t know how you were able to stay upright, your limbs shaking from the pleasure running through your body.

“Johnny!” you screamed, “I’m gonna come!”

“Come on, give it to me then,” he encouraged, reaching around to rub your clit vigorously. The added sensation made you snap, your orgasm hitting you so hard your body convulsed, pussy clenching so hard around Johnny’s cock that he groaned, fucking harder into you until he came. His fingers dug into your hips as he pumped his cum into you, filling you up so much that you knew you’d be leaking afterwards. He only released you when he was done, pulling out of you and letting his cum leak out of your abused hole.

“So you learned your lesson?” he asked, pulling up his pants and smirking at you.

“I don’t know,” you replied saucily, “I may need another refresher soon.”

---

Thank you for 1k!

[aceofspadegrass]

Good Old Drama and Gossip

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Morizono Aguni (Mentioned), Chishiya Shuntaro (mentioned), Last Boss (Briefly Mentioned), and me

Genre: Crack. This time it's just blind!Niragi being fussy and me stealing Aguni in the background

1.5k words

Part 3 of being a little shit to Hatter and getting away with it. But hey, at least there's the added bonus of Niragi being dramatic while being able to see nothing. A shame I didn't arm him with a cane and let him smack people.

Hatter was going to get them this time, he swears on it. It’s been more than a week since they last struck, and as far as he knew, there was not a single invasion into his Beach. He was always on alert, just in case something happened. It didn’t get in the way of his primary duty to his people, but the thought never left him to make sure everything he owned was in place.

Checking for any of the other’s stuff wasn’t anything Hatter worried about, thankfully. For some odd reason he could only interpret as ‘being too handsome and irresistible for his own good’ only his stuff was ever snatched like a cookie in the elusive cookie jar. He didn’t want to develop more stress lines making sure his men were okay in their personal possessions. Wrinkles shall only come to accentuate him, make him look good, not just tired and old.

That privilege can go to Aguni.

The man in question was at the very least rocking it, made him look fierce. Hatter could appreciate that in him, and it makes his job easier in subduing the more…. rambunctious of their group.

In fact, one of Aguni’s more problematic men, Niragi, had come back to a game with bad eye issues, even more worse than the appointed med staff could figure out. Apparently the game the oversaturated oil stain was in broke his eyes to the point where he couldn’t use them for a good while. In short, Niragi was left completely blind, and Aguni now had to deal with an increasingly whiny and temper hearty baked bean burrito. Hatter found it funny, but oh boy was it wearing out his poor fried dumpling.

It also left quite a hole in the defense for the intruders, so the issue of Aguni and Niragi was also an issue for the safety of the Beach (and Hatter’s stuff) as a whole.

No point thinking about this now. Hatter leans back on the sofa, sipping at a cold blend of juices and relaxing. His feet were killing him right about now, Hatter flexing his stiff toes and internally begging for a good pedicure to fly in through the doors and give his feet a touch of heaven and bliss.

The door in fact does fly open as the thought passes his head, Hatter sitting up and raising an eyebrow as Niragi stands there, breathing heavily. The sunglasses Hatter has so graciously offered to him in order to make him both sexier and protect his eyes from the sunlight so he didn’t permanently damage them further was slipping slightly off his face, Niragi fixing them after a few more pants.

“ You…..! You fucking coconut slut!” Niragi rasps out, and Hatter quirks his eyebrow in mild amusement, leaning forward and sipping his juice quietly as one arm rested on his knee. Niragi points a finger in Hatter’s direction, if Hatter was 45 degrees to the left and standing. “ You fucking left me tied on that bed for an hour! What fucking gives!”

Hatter says nothing, as Niragi storms in….. and immediately slams into the back of the other couch, Hatter bursting into laughter. Niragi on the other hand starts spouting obscenities and kicks the couch, and the red cocktail man notices the lack of real gun in Niragi’s possession, other than the super soaker that was substituted. Aguni probably replaced it, knowing that a blind trigger happy man was a danger to society and himself.

“ What the fuck is this bull?! What- Oh for fucks sakes this isn’t Chishiya’s room is it.” Niragi finally sputters out, grabbing the top edge of the couch and massaging the soft cushions underneath his long fingers.

“ Oh, I wish I was. Now what was this about being tied to a bed, hm?” Hatter croons, which earns him a hearty middle finger.

“ Like heck am I about to tell you. Okay, let’s try this again-“ Niragi turns around, but Hatter whistles at him, Niragi slowly spinning back around to face Hatter’s general position. “ What is it, I don’t have all day lobster man.”

“ Aww, not even a minute? Well, it’s just a question. Aren’t you supposed to be accompanied until you regain your senses? After all, you have nothing to guide your way.”

“ Fuck that, I don’t know where Last Boss went and he won’t fucking speak up if he’s just been following me like a sneaky little bitch this entire time, and Aguni was called away for something!”

“ Oh?” Hatter leans back again, Niragi throwing his arms up in the air as he starts pacing and nearly running into stuff again.

“ Yeah! So then that tiny mozzarella cheese ball came and said he’d help because I just look sad and stupid wandering around by myself, which I don’t believe because I know he’d push me into the pool the first chance he got, and then suddenly I’m tied to a bed as he puts on a podcast of nothing but some random guy talking about wool! It was hell!”

“ Oooh, I see. How bad was it?”

“ Fucking terrible! I did not need a wool lecture, thank you very little! Who the fuck wants to know the fastest record to shear a sheep was 39 seconds!? Not me, that’s for fucking sure!” Niragi rants, Hatter nodding and grinning as he switches his juice out for the good wine he kept by his foot the entire time, pouring himself a decent amount and taking a slow sip as Niragi continued to rant onwards. At some point Niragi managed to find the couch again (because he stubbed his toe into it, leading to an extra twenty seconds of Niragi cursing out Hatter’s poor couch) and sat down, Hatter pushing a wine glass into Niragi’s hand and filling it. Niragi downed it like he was a war orphan waiting for his arm to be donated to the war effort, Hatter lightly tsking him for not savouring it properly.

It wasn’t Aguni or any of the girls, but Hatter could appreciate the gossip as Niragi continued without a filter in his mouth, the rant going from Chishiya’s wool podcast to anything else Niragi had heard in his blind boredom. He was impressed how much information Niragi was willing to dole out just to get his anger settled for the rest of the day, and Hatter was happily sipping away as he absorbed it all.

Finally Niragi had calmed down, just nursing the wine glass that Hatter just filled with chocolate cereal instead, as Niragi refused to drink his wine like it was good wine. It was a shame really, Hatter liked hearing about Niragi’s auditory bubble day.

“ Well wasn’t that cathartic!” Hatter chirped as Niragi mumbled around his glass of chocolate cereal, draped over the entire couch as if he wanted to become the couch lord. Or wanting to be painted like the best model in the world, whatever he wanted.

“ Yeah yeah, whatever.” Niragi tips cereal into his mouth just as the crackle of his walkie-talkie alerts him and Hatter. Niragi doesn’t bother to remove the device from his side, too busy eating his cereal as a voice comes through.

And oh boy, what a voice it was, Hatter tuning into it immediately.

“ ….. Testing, testing! Are you hearing me? Hi hi, it’s me, your local menace~ The one with the robe, remember me? Yeah! Hi, don’t mind me, okay? I’m just gonna….. borrow Mr. Beef Stew with extra beef for a few hours! For personal, very important reasons and definitely not because I got a replica statue of a cute dog stuck in a window and now I can’t get it out. Anyways, bye!” The rest becomes static as it disconnects, Niragi snorting a little as Hatter takes one deep breath.

“ Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Niragi, hand it over to me.”

“ You’re not my boss.” “ Yes, but I’m Aguni’s, so hand it over.”

Niragi grumbles, unclipping the walkie-talkie and tossing it in Hatter’s general direction, Hatter humming and pressing the button on the side.

“ Hello? Are you still there, you rascal?” Hatter leans in, pouring as much honey into his voice to lure them out.

“… Yep, still here! Hi, didn’t think you’d be there too Hatter.” “ Oh, I’m here, and I would like to kindly know where you and your little friends are. As a little house visit~” There was a chuckle on the other end. “ Oh, sorry sorry, but I can’t. We can always come over and visit though, even if it’s for a brief moment!” “ Is that so…. Well, you wound me so, you know!” Hatter puts a hand on his chest. “ For you to not even offer me the same respect, ah it hits me right here that you can’t even trust me~”

“ Sorry! Anyways, gotta go, got things to do, got stuff to move with Aguni, who was nice enough to help us.”

“ At your base? Well, what’s stopping me from asking him for directions later for a surprise visit one of these days, maybe have a meet and greet with my beloved stolen items?”

“ Not anywhere near our base, we’re not that dumb my dear red bean paste~ Don’t worry, we’ll return your man in….. 3-5 business days maybe okay byeeeeeeeee-“ The line goes completely dead, and Hatter stares at the black box.

Those cursed beings, they’ve gone too far. Too far.

[translytherins]

Unaccepted Permission Slip {Part 2}

[A/n: Pitcure refrence is on my Unaccepted Permission Slip part 1 so go check that out if you want refrence]

Peter's P.O.V

"Your enjoying the attention that your getting from (m/n) aren't you Peter" Ned said while wiggling his eyebrows at me. Mj was just smirking at me.

"Yup" i said while popping the p.

I looked at (m/n) who was standing right next to me. We were in front of the elevator waiting for it to open. He was wearing his headphones, listening to his music playlist so he most likely didn't hear what Ned said.

"I think this is the most clingy he's ever been in our one year of dating. So I'm enjoying it while it lasts" i said with a smile on my face. The elevator doors opened and we got on to it.

-

I opened the door to the training room and we saw Aunt Tasha sparring with Uncle Clint while Pietro was sparring with Pops. Wow...this is so...freaking...unimpressive. Well to me and (m/n) that is because the Avengers sparring is basically a daily occurrence. My classmates and the teacher were gawking at the scene infront of them. When they saw us they stopped sparring and gave us a welcoming smile.

"Hello children of Midtown High" Aunt Tasha greeted us but i don't think the others caught on, on the fact that she just called them children because their to star struck but (m/n), me and Mj did. We were snickering while Mj was glaring at us causing us to stop.

"Today we'll be picking five students to come and and demonstrate with the five of us.

" Five??? But there's only four of you??? "

" No there's five of us. Come here (N/n). Your joining us" Pietro said with a smug look his face.

I visibly gulped because I knew something very VERY bad is about to go down. I just love when my Parker luck strikes. Note the sarcasm.

(m/n)'s P.O.V

I groaned because of two things. One, I'm too lazy to spar and two Pietro called me (N/n).

"No. I'm not doing it and you can't make me" i said while giving Pietro a challenging look.

"Oh, i can" he replied while holding my wireless headphones. I checked my neck only to realise that they were missing.

I just groaned in annoyance and made my way over to them. Taking my headphones from Pietro and smacking his head really hard. Pietro whined and pouted while i just rolled my eyes at him. Cap made us stand to the side while he and Nat demonstrated. They started sparring and the classs stared in amazement (except Peter of course) but i didn't pay attention to the demonstration. Instead i put on my mask, hood and headphones, got out my sword and started practicing with it while doing some summer saults, back flips, cart wheels and much more. I was so into it that i didn't even realise that half of the classes attention was on me. I shape shifted my sword into a staff and transferred my water element into it. I stabbed the staff into the ground and a water dragon appeared from my staff. After a few minutes, it evaporated into water droplets before disappearing it completely.

Once it disappeared, i turned around while pulling down my headphones and saw that everyone was staring at me shocked and surprised even the five Avengers (including Peter) because i never showed them i could do with my full power. Pietro was the first one to snap out of it and Pietro super speed towards and wrapped an arm around my shoulder with his sh*t eating grin.

"Didn't know you could do that"

I just shrugged and pushed his arm off my shoulder.

"I forgot"

He just chuckled and yanked me by my hand towards the middle of the sparring mat. The others snapped out of it and started choosing their sparring partners. Some of them looked excited to spar with us, some of them looked like they were about to sh*t their pants. I put my headphones back on and waited until it was my turn. I was so into my music that i didn't even realise that it was my turn to pick until Clint nugged my shoulder, telling me it was my turn to pick. I had an evil smirk on my face but no one could see it under my (f/c) mask.

"Eugene Thompson"

When i said his name his face paled slightly but he had a cocky arse grin on his face. He probably thought he could beat me but his name is on my death list, so i won't be going easy. Peter looked like he was about to pass out and his friend, Mj, was drawing something on her book ( judging by the way she was holding her pencil) so fast that it looked like her pencil was about to break. He slowly made his way towards me, trying to look menacing as possible but it didn't work. All i did was yawn and say ;

"How long is it goong to take for you to get here because your wasting everyone's time with your presents"

Everyone either laughed or snickered at my comment making the retard named Flash mad but decided to not say anything and finally walk faster so he was standing next to me. We all moved to the side because Nat was going first with her partner which was a girl that looks slightly terrified but slightly confident that she might win. Let's just hope Nat doesn't break her bones.

-

After a few minutes of watching the other kick arse, finally it was my turn. Me and Flash walked to the center of the sparring mat. We got into our fighting stance and waited for Steve to blow the whistle. While waiting, i quickly shape shift my sword into a sludge hammer and transferred some natural element into it. When he blew the whistle, i slammed the hammer onto the ground creating a huge crack in the ground and the floor continued to crack until it reached Flash. The room was silent until the cracked area started to fall, creating a huge deep hole in the ground. Unfortunately, ( well fortunately actually. I don't want to kill him. Just scare him a little) he moved just in time so he won't get swallowed by the ground. He had an arrogant smirk on his face because he thought he had a chance but unknown to him there was vines that was starting to sprout from the crack that managed to make his way behind him. The vines started to tangle his legs. He raised his fist and was about to come running towards me but he fell face first onto the ground. Everyone bursted out laughing even the avengers were snickering because i may or may have not made F.R.I.D.A.Y send a video of the incident in the lab to Tony and knowing him he might have already showed the video to the others before these four came down here. I walked up to him, who was still on the ground struggling to get out of my vines, and whispered in his ear, my eyes glowing red.

"If you or that sorry excuse of a teacher ever and i mean EVER hurt my boyfriend or anyone else again not only me but the others will come after you two and slit your throats open. Got it you b*tch"

He nodded his head vigorously. I smirked and untangled him from my vines and he stood up shaking like a leaf and spoke in a teasing but serious tone.

"Not so tough are you mister tough guy. Now get out of this f*cking tower while we wrap this tour up, never show your face here again because I don't think Tony let's bullies like you into this tower EVER again and don't even think about trying to apply for the internships because the chances of you getting in is 1%"

And with that, he bolted out of the room. I just shook my head. People these days can be a bit b*tchy. I repaired the crack in the ground and we (Clint, Pietro, Nat and Steve) walked towards the awestruck class.

Peter's P.O.V

The five of them were walking towards us and i have a bad feeling about what's about to go down.

"Listen here everyone. If i hear that you bring harm to my son, Peter Stark-Rogers, just remember that me, my husband and the rest of the avengers will not hesitate to take action. Understood???"

They all nodded their heads with shock (with Mrs.Warren slightly terrified)

" Good. The tour is over but the teacher will have a meeting with me, Tony and the principal deciding whether your going to keep your job or not for not doing anything about kids bullying other kids"

The whope class exited the tower talking about how cool the trip was. Ned just gave me a smile and waved before walking through the door. Pops turned to me and i gulped.

"We'll talk about you being bullied later. Right now, go and change your clothes. The press conference going to start in an hour and you have to change into the suit Tony gave you because if you don't he's going to go beserk"

I nodded my head and towards my room to get ready for the press conference that i totally DIDN'T forget about. But tonights going to be a long night of explanation and scolding *sigh*. You know what it's okay because i know they're trying to protect me and i wouldn't trade them or my boyfriend for the world.

-Timeskip To The Press Conference-

Me, my family and my boyfriend were at the conference room (A/n :If there's not just go with it). We're not even inside yet but I could already see light flashing and loud talking inside the room. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked towards the owner of the hand and saw dad smiling at me.

"Don't worry kid. You'll be fine"

I smile and nodded.

"Ready?" Happy asked as he put his hand on the handle ready to open the door.

I nodded my head. I felt (m/n) take a hold of my left hand and squeeze it for reassurance. Happy opened the door and we walked inside and onto the podium. When we were all standing on the podium Dad and pops were immediately bomb with a thousand questions asking if it was true he was gay and married and if they adopted a kid. He confirmed it saying he was married to Steve Rogers *cue the crying woman's* and he introduced me to. I waved akwardly, not knowing what to act and questions were shot towards me. They're talking was hurting my ears and the lights were really bright all of a sudden. Realisation hits me like a bullet train. I was having a sensory overload. I tugged on pops hand and he looked over at me. He immediately realised what was happening just by looking at me and said the press conference was over and carried me inside to lay me down in my room.

-

He and dad placed me on my bed with an extremely worried (m/n) standing behind them. They kissed my forehead and left the room to bring the news to everyone in the living room. (m/n) was about to follow them but i tugged his hand unintentionally making him fall onto the bed because of my super strength and snuggled into his side. He gave me a soft smile and kissed my forehead making me smile.

"How did i get so lucky with you?" he asked.

I looked at him with a confused look.

"Why are you asking that??? It should be me asking you that"

He gave me a smile that I love so much and pecked my cheek, making me blush.

"I love you so much Pete that it hurts. You know that, right???"

"I know. You tell me that every day. I love you too (m/n). So, so much"

And with that we both fell asleep in each others embrace woth a smile on our faces.

~The End~

[plumoh]

[SK8] whirlwind

Rating: G

Word count: 2341

Summary: Three times Kaoru gets into a fight; Kojirou is never too far away. / high school era.

Note: AO3 link. As usual, high school era means pre-relationship and Kaoru being a little bit oblivious to Kojirou’s feelings haha.

i.

Kaoru didn’t mean to punch him.

Well. That’s not exactly true. He did want to punch that smug smile off the bastard’s face, but he didn’t mean to knock him out. It’s not his fault that his punch landed exactly at an angle that made the guy’s head twist on the side and bang on the streetlamp, before collapsing on the ground and invoking a silence so loud everyone’s breathing felt like an entire storm.

And then all the guy’s goons start screaming and yelling for blood, pointing accusing fingers at Kaoru like Kaoru just killed someone (their boss isn’t dead, not yet), and most of them also start crowding around him with a palpable vengeful intent. As if that will ever intimidate him.

Nobody thinks that Kaoru is built to fight, which propels them into a state of shock and complete disbelief when he attacks first and manages to strike down two people by smashing their heads together and kicking them in the stomach for good measure. He doesn’t stop moving, always ready to spring back and to collide his fist with something breakable or crouching low to dodge and literally sweep them off their feet. He’s like a volcano being poked until it swallows everything around him.

His impulsiveness means he gets hurt too, mostly from his own moves that use more strength than necessary, but also from attacks he decides to go up against instead of avoiding, simply to get closer to his opponent. He ends up with scratches on his face and bruises on his legs or cuts on his arms, in a way that undeniably adds to his overall appearance of a troublemaker. He doesn’t give a shit; the messier and more dangerous he looks, the better.

It’s when most of the guys have fled, leaving Kaoru breathing hard and leaning forward with his hands on his knees, that Kojirou materializes next to him.

“What the hell, Kaoru?” Kojirou yells, not knowing if touching Kaoru will be a wise idea. “Did you pick a fight with random people again?”

“I didn’t pick a fight with them, they provoked me,” Kaoru growls, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. It comes away with a little blood. “Why do you always assume I’m the one instigating?”

“Maybe because two times out of three you’re the one who throws the first punch,” Kojirou mumbles.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

Kaoru makes a poor attempt at shoving Kojirou in the shoulder but he misses by a large margin and ends up swatting at his chest, which does nothing to abate Kojirou’s annoyance.

“Shut up,” Kaoru says.

Kojirou shakes his head and takes Kaoru’s arm to steady him, dragging him towards a less crowded and more luminous place to get a look at his injuries with supplies that seem to have appeared from nowhere.

ii.

Kojirou nearly lands on his face after failing a trick, all graceless and devoid of finesse, which makes Kaoru double over in laughter.

“That was really stupid,” Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I didn’t see you try doing that trick,” Kojirou scoffs.

“At least I don’t look like a limp caterpillar when I’m on the ground like you are.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Kojirou picks himself up from the ground and dusts off his pants, looking back at the track that he just descended from. Kaoru watches the way Kojirou is considering the path again, eyes focused on the last meters of the bumpy pavement. They chose this part of the track specifically because it isn’t well-maintained, full of holes and uneven ground that forces them to work on their stability. Kojirou, like the brainless ape he is, wanted to show off by doing some fancy trick that only served as evidence of his stupidity.

“Hey, you’re Sakurayashiki, right?”

Kaoru turns around and raises en eyebrow. He has no idea who the guy talking to him is.

“Get out of our turf,” the guy says on a tone that’s supposed to be menacing. “Or you’ll regret it.”

“Your turf?” Kaoru repeats, unimpressed. “The hell are you on?”

“You thought you could swing by after sending some of our guys to the hospital?”

The words go in Kaoru’s ear and make a swift exit in the other. He blinks.

“I didn’t send anyone in the hospital,” he says, tone raising like a question as he turns around to address Kojirou.

Kojirou lifts his hands in sign of innocence. “I don’t know, I’m not there to watch you fight every single person in this city.”

“You would remember if I did anything like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I just said I don’t know!”

“Stop ignoring me!”

Kojirou shouts wordlessly and yanks Kaoru by the arm, saving him from a well-aimed kick that would have sent Kaoru sprawling, and suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped.

People say that Kaoru has a bad temper, an accusation that’s not totally unfounded. He’s quick to anger and he doesn’t mince his words—when he’s having a casual conversation with someone, many wrinkle their nose at his lack of proper forms of address, and others outright say he shouldn’t be so aggressive in his choice of words. One can only imagine how vulgar and straightforward he is when he’s insulting someone or spitting out a string of curses that are probably not yet in the dictionary.

Kojirou, of course, has a deep knowledge of the ways Kaoru can react before a taunt, a physical threat or a low blow to his ego. He’s not exactly a saint either, since he will without a doubt get into a fight if he’s provoked enough, or throw back cruel words when the situation calls for it, but between the two, Kojirou has less difficulty keeping his bad mood in check.

Kaoru twists around and is ready to swing his fist at full speed, but Kojirou is already scolding him while having a grip of iron on his arm. He’s also trying to drag him back, stopping him from making even one step towards their opponent who is, quite frankly, looking too fucking pleased with himself.

“What, too chicken to fight me?” the guy snickers. “Too scared of hurting your little hands?”

“I’m gonna punch a hole through your skull, you absolute buffoon,” Kaoru hisses, struggling against Kojirou’s grip. “Let me go, Kojirou!”

“Stop getting into fights, damn it!” Kojirou yells.

“He asked for it!”

“Same difference, you idiot!”

Kojirou loops his arms under Kaoru’s armpits and keeps him still, pressed against his torso, even when Kaoru is trying to pull forward with the sheer force of his will. Kojirou’s stronger than Kaoru, but Kaoru doesn’t give a shit when he is moved by rage alone, stomping and wriggling and squirming in the hopes of getting away.

The guy is watching them with the most self-satisfied smirk ever, as if Kaoru’s inaction is proof of his victory over a petty squabble that Kaoru himself doesn’t remember. It pisses him off.

He usually wouldn’t resort to such dirty tactics. In a fight, the more they use their fists and feet and entire bodies, the more gratifying it is. Sporting injuries and scars are simply a natural consequence of it, and everyone should wear them proudly—like real battle scars, resembling a physical history of their hard-won fights.

Kaoru’s skateboard is within leg reach. He has long legs, Kojirou keeps reminding him, so might as well make use of them. He makes one big step forward, grunting when he’s met with resistance due to Kojirou holding him back, but he manages to have his foot on the tail-end of the deck and brings the skateboard at his feet. He can feel Kojirou’s and the bastard’s confused and intrigued gazes on him; all he does is offer a grin, the sunlight catching on his lip ring like some wicked gleam of mischievousness.

Kaoru gives a harsh kick into his skateboard that goes straight towards the guy, hitting his ankle at full speed and tearing a cry of pain and surprise out of his throat. He puts all his weight on his other foot and cradles his injured ankle, glaring at Kaoru with burning anger. Kaoru isn’t sorry in the least.

“I’ll end you,” the man threatens, visibly shaking with fury.

“Good luck with that ankle,” Kaoru replies smugly. “You’ll fall over before you can land a single hit on me.”

Kojirou audibly sighs and shakes his head. And then, two things happen at once.

The first is that their friend bends down with difficulty, not wishing to put strain on his ankle, and picks up the skateboard. He gives it a long contemplative look, like he’s wondering if this object is worth his interest, before dropping it back on the ground and getting on it.

The second is Kaoru watching this with mounting irritation and rage, and he decides that stomping on Kojirou’s foot to let him go is less aggravating than letting some random prick steal his skateboard. So he does just that with minimal hesitation, causing Kojirou to loudly yelp as his grip loosens enough for Kaoru to slip out.

Skating all day doesn’t mean they can’t run with their feet. Kaoru pushes on his feet like his life depends on it and in a few large strides he catches up to the guy just as he starts skating away, and Kaoru, without a second thought, decks him.

Skateboard back in hand, a broad smile splitting his face in two, Kaoru leaves the track with a victorious fist lifted in the air, to Kojirou’s growing exasperation.

iii.

Kaoru presses his lips together and remains stubbornly silent.

“Kaoru.”

Arms crossed and a frown deeper than usual on his face, Kojirou is staring at him with disappointment so clear that Kaoru actually feels bad, for once. He shrugs.

“You’re lucky that it didn’t rip off your lip,” Kojirou continues. “Why did you get piercings if you know you’ll never resist fighting people? Do you want to risk permanent damage just because your brain is filled with a useless need to fight?”

“Shut up, Kojirou,” Kaoru mutters.

Kaoru winces when Kojirou presses something cold on his mouth, gently dabbing at it and being careful about the lip ring, whose presence alone did a number on his face. Having his head smashed into the ground would do that, he supposes.

Kojirou is silently working on cleaning and bandaging his various cuts and bruises on his face. Kaoru glances up, noticing that the tense line of Kojirou’s shoulders is heavier than usual, a bit more worried, as if today’s encounter could have ended in a disaster. It wasn’t any worse than the previous times. Maybe Kaoru got roughed up a bit more and maybe he got kicked in the ribs more times than necessary and yes, maybe he should have taken off his earrings and lip ring before going skating, but these are all possible factors disrupting his routine he always considers before doing anything. And it’s not like he knows in advance that someone will pick a fight with him. He just got unlucky this time.

Kaoru watches Kojirou’s brows knit together in concentration. This isn’t a rare expression on his face, but Kaoru has never noticed the way Kojirou’s focus is single-minded when he does this kind of detail-oriented tasks, or the way he purses his lips like he does when he’s trying to solve a complicated math problem. It’s the face he makes when something requires his entire attention, unperturbed and going at the pace he needs to finish what he started.

“Hm,” Kaoru says, partly because he’s thinking and partly because he shouldn’t open his still bleeding mouth.

“What?” Kojirou’s gaze never strays from Kaoru’s injury.

Kojirou takes Kaoru’s hand and guides it towards the compress placed on the corner of his mouth, and makes him apply pressure while the cleaning shifts to his ear. Kaoru’s lip isn’t bleeding as much as before, judging by the color of the compress that didn’t become completely red in five seconds, so he supposes talking shouldn’t make matters worse.

“Your precision is a bit surprising,” he admits, laughter in his voice. “I didn’t think you could be so calm while handling things that need careful maneuvering.”

“I’m not the one who can’t break eggs without dropping pieces of shell in them,” Kojirou snipes back.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Breaking eggs needs practicing, and I can still pick out the shell pieces if I really need to. If you poke someone in the wrong place while tending to their injuries then you’ll make it worse, moron.”

Kojirou is visibly putting all his efforts into remaining focused on his task, trying not to get riled up by Kaoru’s comments. It would be funny to watch, actually, if Kaoru wasn’t the one receiving treatment.

“I haven’t let you down yet, have I?” Kojirou asks.

And Kaoru can’t find anything scathing as an answer, staring at Kojirou’s bright eyes that never hide what he’s feeling.

“I suppose you haven’t, no,” Kaoru says lowly.

“You’re so much trouble, you know that?” Kojirou sighs.

But he finally meets Kaoru’s gaze and Kaoru is almost taken aback by the sincerity and raw emotion shining in it, like Kojirou is looking at a treasure he has locked behind a chest and kept the key close to his heart. Kaoru swallows.

“Not as much as you,” he replies with less bite than he intended.

“Says the one who is covered in bandages and band-aids.”

“I have to put up with your nonsense every day!”

“And I have to drag your ass back from whatever scuffle you get involved in!”

Kaoru shoves his hand in Kojirou’s face, and they start jostling each other, as if they weren’t being as still and cautious as possible to avoid complicating the process of patching Kaoru up. This familiarity, too, is something that will never change, no matter what happens—Kojirou has Kaoru’s back.

[vinylhazza]

imagine craving morning sex with gray just because you’re obsessed with his little belly and it turns you on for some reason

TW: i used a reference to drugs sooo if that triggers you skip right over that sentence please. love u.

his wittle tummy is so endearing to me. but yes like he’s cooking just like in the video but you are groggily stumbling into the kitchen, yawning from having just rolled out of bed. he’s just minding his own business making french toast and it smells so good you had to admit. your stomach jumped slightly just smelling the food. you were most hungry in the mornings on regular occasions. grayson always made such a big breakfast for you, and always asked you if you had any request. he was a sweetheart like that.

he’s shirtless of course, because when does that boy ever wear a shirt? and he’s just so goddamn handsome. his hair is a bit messy, and you can see where he tried to fix it without looking in the mirror. there’s a little piece that stands up right at the back, making a smile spread across your face in amusement.

you stare for a while, just admiring the muscles in his back moving while he cooks and hums a tune to himself. he’s happy, he only hums like that when he’s truly happy. that thought alone has you melting into a puddle right on the kitchen floor. you hoped it was because you had a very interesting night. interesting meaning he ate you out so good your thighs are still a little weak in the morning. the thought of his tongue swirling on you had you clenching your thighs and fanning your face with your hand, grabbing the hair tie from your wrist to tie your hair up into a ponytail.

satisfied with your appearance, you close the distance between your body and his - wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his tan back. he stops only for a second, his stomach contracting and you just know he’s laughing.

“goodmorning sunshine,” he talks with a calm tone, the one he always uses when he swipes the hair from your face while you lay in bed wrapped up in his arms.

“mornin’,” you grin, sliding your hands down just a bit to trace over the part of his stomach that sticks out just a bit further than the rest. you call it a food baby, he calls it a problem. the thing is, you love his little tummy. not only was he the hottest man you’d ever seen, but the little tummy he had turned you on the the max.

“baby,” grayson snaps you out of your trance, his voice a warning. he’s really...self conscious about the belly and although he knows you’d never judge him on it - he doesn’t understand the obsession you have and why you’re always touching him there, kissing over it, sucking little love bites into the skin. he was just so self conscious about it.

with a huff, you grab him by his waist, reaching forward to grab his spatula and set it down on the saucer next to the stove. when you turn him around to look at you, he has a pout aimed down at the floor. the little shit refused to even look at you.

“hey,” you mutter, grabbing at his face with both of your hands, holding his cheeks in your palms and tucking some of the hairs that stick over his ears to the back - something that always softens him up, “you know you never have to hide yourself with me. you are...” you back up further, smoothing your hands down his nails, spreading them apart over the slight protrusion of his slight tummy, “fucking everything Grayson.”

“oh not that tone,” he smiles, noticing the slight seductive twinge to your voice, watching you close as you kiss a trail down his chest, down his abs, and across his lower stomach, making sure to leave a little love bruise right near the edge of his sweats - give him something to look at later.

“what tone?” your faux innocence is what really gets him, always has. when you act like an angel but turn into a devil when the time is just right. you keep peppering your kisses, but sink down to your knees and palm his growing bulge through the grey fabric of his sweats.

within an instant he’s yanking you back to your feet and holding your chin tight in his hand, staring at you with blown out eyes that ring ‘don’t test me because i won’t hesitate to fuck you on the counter.’

but that’s exactly what you want isn’t it? to give your man that confidence he always shows to the world. you know he gets in his head, but you are always there to make sure he keeps the insatiable energy.

“do you think you can come in here and test me, huh?” he whispers right up against your lips, his breath coming out in short puffs, the hot air only causing you to clench your thighs tighter, “rubbing up on me right as i’m making breakfast?”

“did it work?” you’re sighing back to him, leaning in and scratching you nails across that exact same spot.

without a word grayson is picking you up from the ground and slamming you down onto the counter, chuckling when you let out a shocked gasp at the impact.

“fucking always turning me on at the most inconvenient times,” he growls, tugging down his pants and looking at you with a raised eyebrow, scanning his over your body as if to say “one of us is far too overdressed”.

“i’m sorry daddy,” you’re pouting, pulling his t-shirt over your head and tossing it beside you on the counter, peeling your panties off in a speed that shocks you. you hasn’t even realized how bad you fucking wanted him. he’s like a drug you just can’t get enough of. addicting.

“no you’re fucking not,” he grumbles, ridding his own body of the last article of clothing, stroking himself with his hand. he’s already so fucking hard and it amazes you how fast he can get to that point. the point of needing to fuck someone hard so fast, “you knew exactly what you wanted when you came in here. and i’m going to give it to you,” he tells you earnestly, leaning in to place a slow kiss on your lips, swiping his tongue across yours before pulling away and looking at himself.

“fuck, look what you did baby,” he groans titling his head back for a second with his eyes squeezed shit, jerking himself off right in front of you, “all because you woke up and wanted to be fucked.”

“i just wanted to touch your tummy that’s all,” you try and reason, knowing it drives him crazy that you can get him riled up at the most random times. like cooking his breakfast for instance.

“oh shit,” he whimpers to himself, ignoring you while tugging at himself some more, twisting his wrists and rubbing his thumb over his tip, jumping at the sensitivity, “tell me again. tell me how much you wanna touch me there.”

“really bad i think it’s so cute,” you tell him honestly, watching him with hungry eyes pleasuring himself, “you’re little tummy is so cute.”

cute. fucking cute?

“cute huh?” he’s tilting his head up to look at you with a menacing glare, stalking over to you and spreading your legs wide across the counter, reaching down to rub at your bundle of nerves - a high pitched moan coming from your chest already.

“you think i’m cute?” he threatens, he hates that word.

“n-no i think you’re hot daddy, think you’re sexy, not cute just um-“ you struggle to articulate your thoughts while hes rubbing up and down your folds, dipping a finger in just to pull right back out. he’s teasing you now. a punishment for your interruption.

he’s placing a hand over your mouth while he lines himself up with your hole, slamming himself into you with one sharp thrust - knowing that your scream would wake up the whole neighborhood if he didn’t shut you up right away.

“be quiet understood? you already fucked up my breakfast...so now you’re gonna get what you came for.”

and he did give you just that, to the point you are squirting out all over his dick and the floor beneath you - something you hardly ever do in the morning. squirting was usually a nighttime event, but with him railing into you at such a speed that you had to hold onto the cabinets behind you - let’s say you underestimated him a bit too much.

i think we can all come to the conclusion that he burnt the hell out of his breakfast and it turned into a cute dual cooking moment: bumping hips playfully and reaching up to play with his hair when he is focused on other things. you love that you can switch between sexual to sweet so easily with him. that he can make you feel so safe, and vice versa.

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Fallen

Written for @jtargaryen18’s Haunted House challenge. Thank you, so much for letting me take part in my first Clint/OC one-shot. I hope you all enjoy reading it. Co-written with @threeminutesoflife​.

Fallen 

Pairing: Dark Clint Barton/OC, (reincarnated OC) and fallen archangel Clint/Ronin.

Word Count: 4371

Warnings: Breeding kink, slight rough sex

I hope everyone enjoys the story, and I really hope jtargaryen18 enjoys the story.

Lena Markowitz had been lucky as hell to get the last online ticket, for the celebrity haunted house night. It was open for only one night, and she had desperately wanted to leave the lonely apartment, that she was forced to call home.

There was no que when she arrived, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. She was shown into the haunted house, and there were other celebrities, but she chose Jeremy Renner, and the Hawkeye/Ronin set to see.

She curiously moved closer to the set of her favourite character, before shivering from the chill in the air. Lena didn’t realise that she had gotten too close, and with a flash of pure white light, disappeared, only leaving behind a purple scarf.

Clint Barton, or Ronin as he was called now, moved silently around the land of his farmhouse. He’d decided to take matters into his own hands, after seeing the worst of humanity getting away with heinous crimes. He hardly cared what anyone thought of what he was doing, he had a job to do and that was it, end of story.

Especially, since losing her to the worst of humanity and his father. He’d failed to protect her, because his father had felt the need to punish him for rebelling.

He saw a figure up ahead, and cautiously moved towards the person who was calling out for help. He froze when he saw the familiar red wavy hair, and brown eyes.

‘It can’t be her; it can’t be her. I lost her, because of him,’ He thought stunned.

Lena had no idea where she was, but she knew that she wasn’t at the haunted house anymore, that was for sure. It was cold, and it was snowing heavily. Her scarf was gone, so she buttoned up her coat even further.

She saw a farmhouse up ahead. Perhaps she could ask the owner for help and find out where the hell she was. She cautiously walked towards the house, to hear a voice call out to her warningly.

“Stop right there, and don’t move!” The voice growled warningly, a threat in the man’s voice and she stayed still. For what almost seemed like an eternity, she saw a man come round from the left side of the house.

He stood out like a wolf in a forest. His hair was in the style of a mohawk, his dark blonde, almost brown hair swept to the top of his head, giving him a menacing, but yet dangerous edge. He was wearing a black leather jacket with dark blue jeans, and a black sweater. He was an attractive man, with grey eyes that reminded her of a hawk, or better yet a wolf.

He stared at her as if he recognized her somehow, but that was impossible. Men like him, didn’t give Lena a second glance. Unlike her sister, or her former friends. He was staring at her, as if he loves her.

Recognition filled him. A pull in his chest, memories rushing back, her laugh, her smile, the way her body shook when wrapped around him. All the things about her that he locked away.

When the fall happened, Lena’s face flashed in his mind. He trained himself to forget her so he could carry on, but the hole she left in his life/heart remained.

There’s a burning in her chest and nerve endings spark. Seeing her favourite celebrity drew anticipation, but this was nothing like that. Nothing compared to this rush of emotions, to finding her missing half.

A sadness filled her for a second, she didn’t even know a part of her was missing until seeing him in front of her. His expression, a mix of stormy emotions and longing. Familiarity washes over her, pushing away any sadness and letting warmth fill her. She already knew his scent, the husk in his voice, the feel of his hands over her.

It happens without words, his body covering hers. Lena’s not sure who moved first through the snow and cut the distance. But she gave herself to him even before he asked.

She pulls him into a kiss, his lips meeting hers and he feels her fingers run over the buzzed sides of his hair before she tangles them into his mohawk. 

Lena gave his hair a tug as she deepens the kiss, and he groans against her mouth. He presses his hardness into her thigh and runs his hands down the sides of her body. He thought she were lost to him, forever untouchable and unattainable. He responded in kind, his fingers twisting through her, thick wavy red hair.

“I no longer know who to thank,” Clint heavily refers to his fall between hungry kisses and bitten lips. “But you’re here now. I’m never losing you again.”

He walks her blindly to the side of the house, her back hitting the cold frame of the front door as his mouth descends on her neck. His hands run over her body, leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

“We’ve lost all that time... I’m not losing anymore,” Clint vows.

The wind whips across her faces, stinging her cheeks, reminding them both they’re still outdoors. She feels his hands run past her ass and cup the back of her thighs

“Up,” he commands and with her legs wrapped around him and he carries her inside and, in a blur, he pushes the door closed and sets her down to shed his coat and sweater. Warm air licks her naked legs as Clint kicks away her ripped tights and ankle boots, are tossed over his shoulders before running his hands up her inner thighs. 

Her coat hit the floor as she jumps back into his arms. The slight curling edge of the old wallpaper rubs her back as Clint’s hard length settled along her wet folds.

“I missed you, Lena,” dress discarded, and panties pulled away, his words brush against her lips. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Show me,” she begs, so many years lost that are demanding to be restored. Her mind has been made to forget him, but she does remember him. “Show me, Clint.” She calls him by his real name, not Ronin.

Clint slightly pulls back and hesitates for a moment; she feels his muscles flutter under her fingertips.

Deep and rich colored feather edges graze her thighs as Lena wraps her legs around him tighter and encloses them both. His wings are massive and strong, blocking out the fire dancing in the hearth behind him. The feathers are black, with gold streaked through them and at the end of his feathers.

A swift flap and the rush of wind fans across her face as they circle. He perches her higher on his hips before steadily guiding her lower, slowly sheathing himself inside her. Her head falls back against the wall as she stretches around him

“You found your home again,” Clint's deep voice wraps around her. “I can’t wait till we fill it.” As he says that, an unexpected flood of contentment rushes over her at his words, and she allows him to carry her into his bedroom.

He was her home, and she was his. He pushed her onto the bed, watching her with hungry eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He was so beautiful. He moaned against her mouth as her grip on him tightened just slightly but the pressure was driving him wild. "Do you want me?" He asks her lowly after a minute. She looks at him, her breath panting, her core soaked, and she leans in, kissing him again.

When she pulls back, she strokes his cheek. "I want you more than I have wanted anyone in a long time." She kisses him again. "Don't leave me again. Please." He growls against her and feels her grind up against his clothed cock. "Baby, I could never," he growls against her. He bites her lip, causing a soft moan to escape her. He glances at the curtains that are pulled back and then back at her. "Give me a second."  He gets up and walks over, pulling the curtains over the windows. At that moment he takes off his shirt and lifts her up, pushing her against the wall. She laughs at his eagerness, but stops her laughing all together as soon as he pulls down her panties, looking up at her with hungry eyes. "I'm about to make this exactly like we did it before," he whispers to her. She nods, fervently. "Please, Clint. I want you so much." He nibbles at her ear before descending to his knees. And within seconds, his tongue was plunged deep inside her wet pussy, his fingers already working at her clit.

He kept a firm grip on Lena's waist, holding her up as her knees threatened to give way, licking, and sucking between her thighs. She cried aloud and tangled her fingers in his hair as his tongue licked her, exploring, and savoring her taste and scent. She'd never been possessed like this before, never felt such a burning need or intense bond. She arched her back in near unbearable pleasure as Clint's skillful tongue probed deeper. "Say you want me, Lena. Please, say you want me and won't leave me?" He asked roughly, stroking her throbbing bundle of nerves with a heavily calloused finger. She almost fell over at the intense pleasure. Clint lowered her on the floor. "I want you, Clint. I'll always want you, Clint," she promised, tugging at his hair as he pleasures her with his tongue. She slid her hands down his body, feeling the rippling muscles, and felt over his abs, before cupping his cock. His cock was hard and hot in her hands, and she heard him groan as she began pumping it. Her dress had been pulled up around her hips, and her shoes were somewhere on the floor.

He pulled her hands off his cock and tangled his calloused fingers into her beautiful locks of dark red wavy hair. Clint traced his calloused, roughened fingers over the softness of her stomach. His mind briefly thought of how much he was looking forward to seeing her carrying his baby in eight months, time. Considering what he was, she would be pregnant by the end of two weeks time.

Lena cried out as he entered her and Clint almost pulled back, fearful of causing her pain, but she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him into her and holding his gaze with a burning passion in her eyes. "Make me yours again, like before," she whispered fiercely, licking his neck, tasting the beads of sweat. "Show me that I belong to you, Clint." Clint didn't need any further encouragement at her words. He buried himself inside of her. He began to move with slow, rhythmic thrusts, taking possession of her, feeling her body drawing him in; her hands running through his hair. Clutching at his shoulders and back as he kissed her again and again, his tongue seeking every curve and line of her eager mouth as the passion built and knotted in his belly. "Mine, mine," he growled roughly, pounding into her relentlessly, feeling very happy at having her back in his arms, as he pulled her legs around him tightly. She could feel him inside her, feel his cock kissing her womb as he bit her neck, squeezed and stroked her breasts. Her teeth bit into the muscle of his shoulder as he roared in hungry lust, one hand tangled in her hair, the other pawing at her face, her breasts, her belly as her own passion responded to his. She screamed aloud, her nails digging into his back, as Clint's hips thrust harder and faster, his growls, grunts, snarls and moans deep and guttural as he continued to make her, his. And within seconds before him, she had come too, her cunt squeezing around his cock. 

Clint’s wings wrapped around her tightly, holding her tightly against him and he pulled her into his side. She felt his cock twitch inside of her, making it clear that he was far from finished with his desires for her.

Four weeks later

Clint’s longing and love for Lena hadn’t faltered in the four months since she had come back to him, and he was now watching her getting into bed next to him. He looked down to see Lena had moved and was now curled into his chest, her long red wavy hair fanning over his chest. Her hand was resting over where his heart was, and her stomach was round with their baby. She looked so beautiful and content, while reading a book to their unborn baby boy. He kissed her and pulled away slightly. Clint put away his sketchbook as he thought of how he’d lost her the first time. She had died in his arms, along with their unborn child, because Tony felt he needed to be punished for falling in love with Lena, a human. He already missed her so much and wished that he had gotten more time with her, before. He loved her, and he wouldn’t lose her again. He wanted to touch her now. He was hard as hell. When he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, Clint was reminded of all the reasons he loved the woman in his arms. Yes, his Lena was beautiful, and kind, inside and out – the personification of her name. She accepted him as he was, put his needs above her own.  After losing her the first time, Clint realized now, he wouldn't have made it without her, if he hadn’t found her in the backyard of his farmhouse.  Lena deepened this kiss and he simply loved the way her hands slid up his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair. The press of her body against his was the sweetest heat, softness but power and it made him light-headed, had him navigating them a few steps to the edge of the bed. He loved the startled look in her eyes when he took them down, but she laughed when they landed on the bed. Lena trusted him, believed in him. It was in everything from her beautiful eyes to the way she was always aware of where he was in a room.  Well, she was certainly aware of him now. The skirt of that nightgown had ridden up her thighs and she wrapped herself around him in a way that had even harder – if that were possible. Clint was as careful with the nightgown, he really was, but he wanted it on the floor along with anything else that kept her being naked and ready for him. Lena's chuckle was a low, seductive sound. "Someone's eager tonight." He'd just got the nightgown all the way down without hitch and he was proud of that. "Damn right." It was a frenzy of movement, Clint peeling the nightgown off and plucking off her maternity bra, her panties. Her beautiful skin was all flushed and pink beneath him and his gaze roamed the bump of her stomach, he thought about that conversation he’d had with her, before she had died the first time.  He'd like to see Lena pregnant constantly. Leaning down, he surprised her with a soft kiss to her tummy. Originally, it was all he intended to do before kissing her some more, getting her ready for him. But she was ready and the smell of her was intoxicating. Clint wrapped his arms around her thighs, positioning himself between them. He started with a simple lick from her opening to her clit. It was all he could do to hang onto her, and Clint grinned. Tonight, was going to be good. He dove in, devastating her with everything he knew she loved, that he knew would take her apart. His Lena didn't disappoint him. Her hands clutched in his hair as he teased her with his mouth, enjoying the chorus of her sighs, moans, and breathy little cries until he knew he had her right on the edge. Where he wanted her.

He sucked and moved his tongue like a pro, like it was an instinct, some animalistic thing he had deep inside of him. She was trying to contain the moans, sighs and breathy little cries she had but eventually, they all came out when he rolled his tongue over her clit.  She cried out in pleasure, her hands tugging at his hair, but he didn't let go of her hips. His grip was tight, but not too tight as he pleasured her with his tongue. She moaned as he gathered some of her wetness on his fingers, taking her hand in his right hand before slipping two calloused fingers inside her wet core. He could feel her, hot around him, her walls clamping down around the roughened digits. He hadn't touched her roughly with his fingers before, too scared to hurt her. But by the way she was squirming and moaning, he knew he'd made a good decision.  Clint continued his ministrations, bringing her to the edge, then backing off, wanting to drag it out as long as possible. He wanted to watch her beautiful face as she came undone, watch her shake as the pleasure rolled through her. And he wasn't disappointed. Her back arched beautifully, lifting off the bed as she spasmed around his fingers. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans at the sight, his name nothing more than a cry from her lips. He smirked, working her through her orgasm before he pulled his fingers from her folds. The sight of her naked on their bed, her beautiful red hair tousled and reaching down to her shoulders. Her face was flushed, her blue eyes sparkling. He'd never wanted or loved someone, like he loved Lena and their baby boy that was growing inside of her. He crawled back up her body, her hand taking his right wrist before lifting his fingers into her mouth. He felt the heat of her tongue against them as she licked them clean. He twitched again, rutting his hips against hers. She moaned a little, her hips grinding against his, trying to get some friction. He pulled his fingers from her lips, pressing a kiss to them before he stood, stripping out of his jeans. He stared down at her as he ran his hand down his hard cock. She was spread out on the mattress, her folds slick again as she stared at him with hooded eyes. He kneeled back on the bed, covering her body with his. He eased himself into her, taking his time to let her adjust. He kissed her jaw, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck until he was fully seated in her. He paused for a moment, resting his forehead against hers, staring down into her eyes before he started moving. Inch by inch he pulled out of her, before pushing back in. He wanted her to feel him. This was about her. He wanted to show her he loved her. How much she and Casper meant to him, and how lost he would be without her or their son. He gradually picked up speed, his thrusts deep as he held her, his hips moving against hers. Her nails dug into his shoulder, but he didn't care. He barely felt it as he stared into her eyes. He saw something flash behind them, before she was stopping him. "Wait." She breathed, her hand on his back stilling him. He leaned up on his hands and knees, scared he'd hurt her. She sat up slightly, causing him to slip from her as she turned, laying on her stomach under him. He remembered how she had once told him, that she’d had really hurt her in this position. In the months since she’d been at the farmhouse, they'd been together, she had never turned her back to him. He hadn't suggested it, knowing her memories of that position. He stared down at her back, the curve of her spine. He could see her shoulder blades sticking out as she gripped the sleeping bag under her.  "Are you sure, Lena?" He asked quietly, he didn't want to push her into anything that she wasn't ready for.  Lena nodded firmly, her face calm but her blue eyes were firm and determined as she looked up at the man she loved. She must have sensed his hesitation. She reached back, gripping his length before guiding him back into her. He lowered himself to his elbows over her, her hands coming around to grip his biceps. He started moving again, slowly, hesitantly. He brushed her hair over one shoulder, pressing his lips to exposed skin. Clint heard her breathless moans as he sped up, hitting that spot deep inside her with every movement. Her hands tightened on his biceps, her head falling back as he sped up even more, his hips hitting her ass with every thrust. His name was like a prayer on her lips, her back arching as her walls squeezed him tightly. He growled as he hit her g - spot, feeling her nails digging into the skin of his biceps but it didn't hurt. He nuzzled her neck, loving the fact that he was making her feel pleasure in this position that had once caused her so much pain. He could feel his own release nearing, his breath fanning over her back as he grunted into her shoulder. He lightly bit the skin as she came, her walls fluttering around him. She was still gripping his biceps, her head falling forward as he continued thrusting, not taking long to reach his release as well.

The room is covered in darkness, with the moon shining over Clint and Lena. Her skin is  pale against his tanned body, and places kisses on her face, neck and neck. "Mine," he growled roughly into her mouth. He moved to his knees, deepening his thrusts all the while keeping his pace slow for her. "Yours, Clint. All yours," she said breathlessly. Clint growled low in his throat as he moved faster. He could feel her coming closer to the edge, beads of sweat on her pale skin. Clint closed his eyes and buried his face in the back of her neck, setting his teeth to her flesh like a dog in heat. Her quiet, breathless moans answered his growls, snarls, and grunts with each thrust. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the quiet room. She tipped her hips up to get a better angle to rub her clit and he pushed deeper, making her cry out. His rough hand traveled down her side. "Cum, Lena." His breathless longing twisted in her. She felt his body tremble, his thrusts ease back. "I-I can't hold back." As he speaks, his wings come out and embrace her. "I don't care, Clint," she said breathlessly, before crying out softly as his calloused fingers pinched, and pulled her nipples erotically. She clutched at his biceps, her red curls catching in the moonlight. His hands slid over her swollen bump, heavy with his baby and if possible, he felt even more aroused by her.

If he had his way, Lena would be pregnant all the time with their children. The thought caused his cock to harden, and he thrust deeper into her.

"I need you to cum, baby," Clint leaned down to whisper in her ear, his heated breath making her shiver. "Please, for me…" Holding his weight off her with one hand, the other smoothed down the swell of her stomach, his fingers eased down into her folds to find her clit. The first brush against her small bundle of nerves had her arching breathlessly under him. His thrusts came faster, and she knew he needed to feel her come apart around him. Now. A selfish lover Clint had never been. A series of teasing touches against the small nub with those strong calloused fingers and he pushed her over the edge. Lena's sharp cries filled the room, tears of pleasure sliding down her cheeks in the darkness. When Lena tightened around him, Clint found his release with her, his body tightening around her and ecstasy written on his beautiful face as he slipped out of her and dropped to her side. Struggling to breathe, her arms around their baby, he eased her onto her side, pulling her in to be his little spoon, his wings cocooning her in his warmth. "I love you so much," he whispered in the darkness. "You've given me life again, Lena. I… didn't know what I was going to do. When I thought I lost you, I just…I'm so happy I found you again."

"I always will come back to you, Clint. You’re my fallen, angel. I love you, and our son. " Lena answered softly, tracing the tattoo on his right arm. Clint nuzzled her neck tenderly, his wings brushing against her, and his placed his right hand over the swell of her bump, as Casper kicked.

Home, she was home with her fallen angel. It was like what Clint had said to her, on their first night together, four months ago. Where she had become pregnant with Casper, who was growing inside of her.

"You found your home again,” Clint's deep voice wraps around her. “I can’t wait till we fill it."

AN: Clint is based on Lucifer in loose terms, and Lena is a young woman that was in love with Clint/Ronin but was killed by God/Tony because she was making Clint rebel. Lena was resurrected but her mind was made to forget Clint, until she reunited with him after falling into the portal.

[1-800-hellraiser]

Final Girl (Eyeless Jack x Female!Reader)

Requested by: no one

Pages: 3.1

Words: 1,048

Genre: I don't really know

Associated song: Final Girl - Graveyardguy (ft. Slayyyter)

!Tw! Swearing, mentions of stalking, stalking, mentions of a period, and minor gore

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"You'll learn right now I don't play nice, if you hurt me once, I'll kill you twice. And I won't go first, Drew Barrymore. Cause I'm the last bitch up, the final girl."

        Yawning, you fall back onto your mattress. You snuggle up into your blankets and switch off your lamp. Around two thirty, you awake to shuffling outside your room. Thankfully, you're prepared for this situation, you have an eight inch long hunting knife in the drawer of your dresser. You carefully get up and tip toe to your dresser. You pull the knife from its spot in the dresser, and slip it into the waistband of your pajama pants. You crack open your bedroom door and peer out, you freeze in your place at what you see. An extremely tall person, dressed in black jeans, a black hoodie, and combat boots. They turn around some and you become even more terrified, they're wearing a blue mask with blacked out eye holes. A thick, tar like substance dribbles out of the sockets of the mask and onto your carpet. 

        Oh hell no. This asshole is NOT going to break into your house and stain your fifty dollar carpet with some black substance! You bust your door open, "Hey! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" You yell, the person whips their head in your general direction as more substance drips onto the carpet. You rush over and attempt to shove the person off of your carpet, emphasis on 'attempt'. The person barely moves, and you continue to mumble curses as you try to move him. "Bro get off my carpet this was fifty bucks!" That seemed to work, as the person steps off the carpet, and you fall to the ground having nothing holding you up. You grunt as you stand back up, facing the masked menace. Suddenly, the person pulls a scalpel out of his hoodie, so you pull hunting knife out of the waistband of your pants. 

        The intruder jumped at you, you try to move, but you get tackled to the floor. You wriggle around as they straddle you and manage to get your arm unstuck from your side. The stranger raises the scalpel-armed hand into the air, aiming for your chest. Thinking fast, you raise your knife and stab and drag the knife down their mid thigh to their knee. They let out an inhuman yelp and drop the scalpel, you quickly get to your feet. You point the blade in between the masks eye holes. You look down at the wound you made, you don't think this person is human. The rip in their jeans exposes their ash-colored skin, and the wound itself is gushing black blood. The intruder looks up at your terrified face, grabs his scalpel and leaves, as you stand in your living room, stunned. 

        You don't bother going back to bed, you brew some coffee and do some undone homework. You just decided to do the rest of the homework after the class you have today. You currently are an attendant of West Point college, studying for a Bachelors of Science Nursing. You have always wanted to become a nurse since you were a mere seven years old. You decided to take that idea and run with it, coming to West point because you have heard they have a great starting classes to go into nursing. There was also a cult a while back that sacrificed another student near campus, but we don't talk about that. The inhuman intruder keeps popping into your mind, making you unable to concentrate. Eventually, you pass out on your almost done homework.

        You see them everywhere now, in the windows of the local cafe you frequent, in the same classes as you, hell, even in the bathroom mirror sometimes. He has been stalking you for a while now, entering your house almost every night. Every night ending in one of you getting stabbed. 

        Closing the door to your apartment, you immediately make your way towards the kitchen area, you have been craving mac n cheese. It may just be a weird period craving, but you REALLY want some mac n cheese. As you enter the kitchen, you groan. "You again? What do you want?" The masked menace turns to you, black sludge slipping down his mask. "Well, I wanted to harvest your organs. But, you're...something. I can't put my finger on why, I just have a hunch." The voice of the person surprises you. The voice was very deep and dark sounding, with a demonic undertone. You're pretty sure the intruder is a guy, because of his voice. "Uhmm, okay." You mumble, very confused. "You want some mac n cheese?" you ask, the man shakes his head. 

        Silence fills the room as you make the mac n cheese, you, stuck in deep thought about what the man is. "Hey, not to be rude or anything, but what exactly are you?" The man chuckles and turns his head to you, "I'm a demon, I was sacrificed at West Point campus to the Slavic god, Chernobog. And now, my only source of nutrition is human organs." You stare at him, terrified and mystified. "Oh, that's...sad. I'm sorry." You apologized, mixing your mac n cheese. "You're fine, It wasn't your fault." You pour your mac n cheese into the strainer in the sink. "My name is Y/n by the way." "Jack," the cannibal answered back. You sit down at the table, across from Jack, silently eating your mac n cheese. Soon enough, Jack left you for the night. 

        For months, Jack sneaks into your apartment and talks to you. You both became friends quickly, talking every night and learning more about each other. Sometimes, Jack will help you with your home work, he knows a lot about nursing. You are happy having Jack around.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 61)

Stitched Up

I really love this chapter, ngl... I hope you do too ;) Full of conflict, violence and gore!

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

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"I was in Van Horn, selling those jewels, Arthur," I began, wrapping my arms carefully around Arthur’s waist as he began riding back to camp, avoiding his injury, "I went into the bar and had a drink 'cause I was thirsty and there was Pinkertons in there! One of 'em came and spoke to me, he didn't know who I was and I didn't give him any clues."

"What did he wanna know?" Sadie asked.

"He was talking about us. Had photos of you boys, was showing 'em 'round. But when I came out I saw Micah! I stopped him and warned him, told him what happened and then…" I stalled, remembering the kiss. "We argued again. He… he really upset me," I shook my head.

We slowed when we came upon our abandoned campsite.

"But we went our separate ways and I came back here, after I told him this was where I was going," I continued. Charles and Sadie got down and helped each other to swiftly collapse the shelter, and we were soon on the move again. "Then the Pinkertons showed up, knew exactly where I was and who I was… that Arthur and I are together. I can't possibly see how they'd find out without Micah telling them. He must've gone back and done it out of spite 'cause he was mad."

"I guess he was counting on both of us getting taken out of the picture," Arthur growled. "Soon as I see him I'm gonna kill him," he added. 

"Do it slowly so I can castrate him before he loses consciousness," Sadie hissed through clenched teeth.

"And I wanna pull his teeth out one by one," John piped up.

I panted heavily, panic pulsing through every limb, putting me right on edge. This was it. It was all going to implode… and all because I wanted to have a damn drink.

–

We made it back to camp, a strong sense of urgency dictating our every move. I slid down off of Jet and supported Arthur on his way down too, conscious of the pain he must've been in. I stowed away the guilt I felt for another time; we had something big to confront. Like a wave of people storming towards us–

"Here she is, the goddamn Judas!" Bill roared out across the camp, and my heart suddenly felt like it was going to fall out of my ass, I froze on the spot. "Kill the bitch!" 

"Wha– the fuck are you on about Williamson? You better stay the hell back!" Arthur growled, stepping in front of me immediately. 

"It's her! She's the rat, Arthur, Micah figured it out," Javier pitched in, heading right for us, his hand on his gun where it sat in his holster. My eyes darted to Bill's hand, his gun was already out, sitting between white knuckles. I gasped, going lightheaded, staggering backwards.

"She ain't a goddamn rat, he is! You're gonna believe anything that comes out of that goddamn snake's mouth?" Arthur spat. 

"It's true, she ain't done nothing, it's–"

"Shut up, Marston! You ain't got a loyal bone in your body, I trust you as much as I trust her!" Bill interrupted. Sadie stomped forwards, in between us and them.

"Everybody calm down!" 

"How can we be calm? There's a traitor standing right in front of us and we've gotta move again, before the Pinkertons show up!" Javier argued.

"What exactly has that bastard been saying?" Arthur demanded. 

"Either you're really as stupid as everyone says, or you're in on it too. Move aside, Arthur, or I'll just blow a hole right through you," Bill spat, though he didn't raise his gun. Part of me knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't. Bill wouldn't do anything without Dutch's say so; I'd taken him to be one of the boot-lickers, especially in more recent days. 

"Arthur! Arthur, goddamn it, I knew she weren't to be trusted, I never wanted her in this gang in the first place! Ever since John brought her in–" Dutch began yelling from across the camp, barging out of his tent, but his words turned into muttered grumbles that we couldn't make out until he got closer again. Micah was dutifully at his side and I scowled at him over Arthur's shoulder. "– all she's done is poison you against me, typical woman. Just like Abigail!"

"What the hell are you talking about Dutch? She ain't poisoning me against nobody! You wanna see top class manipulation you wanna look at yourself, see what Micah's done to you!" Arthur protested, waving an arm in the blonde bastard's direction.

"She's working for the Pinkertons, Morgan. She's got to go," Micah said snidely, ignoring Arthur's words. "She was in Van Horn, having a good old chat. Even had the courtesy to warn me about 'em! You know, I believed her at first, thought she was too innocent to sell us all out. But then she suddenly disappears, and comes back without a scratch on her?"

"They were using her to get to me, after you told 'em where she was staying!" 

Micah laughed, shaking his head. "Why the hell would she tell me where she was going? She hates me, told me herself!"

"She saw you and told you about the Pinkertons in that bar, she said you had some sort'a argument and then you went back and told 'em about us. They wanted to capture me, and I'll bet that was all your idea anyway!" 

"The entire time you've been here you've caused nothing but trouble and tension in this gang, Micah, and you didn't see how they had her; chained up and sitting there like an afterthought while they all waited for Arthur to show up–" Charles began, but was swiftly interrupted. 

"She ain't been here as long as I have and you really believe her over me?" Micah hissed. 

"She ain't been nothing but good to every one of us, even you, Micah. Even with how you been slobbering over her this whole time," John said, shaking his head in disgust, "I wouldn't be surprised if you did all this just 'cause you're bitter."

"You kissed me!" I shouted, stepping out from behind Arthur, he tried to grab me and shield me but he was too slow. "You grabbed me and kissed me earlier on, again! Ain't the first time you've tried."

Micah laughed harder. "God, are you listening to this?"

"You never said that," Arthur pointed out, stepping forwards and grabbing my arm, his tone sharp and surprised. 

"It weren't the best time," I breathed a laugh void of any humour, pulled my arm from his grip. 

"You s'posing I'm heartbroken, wanted to get my revenge?" Micah cocked a brow. 

"Not at all. I think you like playing God! You like seeing me squirm, you like doing exactly the things I don't want you to do, and you like seeing other people suffer. You did all this to entertain yourself, probably!" I exploded, I looked at the crowd that had gathered; most of the gang. "You wanna point the finger at me? Go ahead! But if you kill me I guarantee you'll still be in the same goddamn boat 'cause you'll still have your filthy rat!" I jabbed a finger at him. 

Micah swaggered towards me, stepping between Bill and Javier, who'd both gone very quiet, looking unsure. Arthur edged closer, sticking by my side protectively. Sadie, John and Charles hovered close too.

"Your nasty lies'll get you killed before the rest of us, mark my words. We all know you're such a great con-woman. You've probably had us all on from the start, even Morgan," he said, his voice a low rumble. 

"I think I'd know by now," Arthur scoffed, his whole body exuding disbelief and something like amusement.

"I think you wouldn't have the slightest idea, you're just like any other pretty boy, gets his pecker wet and turns soft," Micah accused and it was Arthur's turn to laugh. 

"That why you're so tough?" He retorted. A sharp sigh caught my attention and Dutch, who had been mostly silent, standing and listening to the whole thing unfold, was rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Enough!" He snapped. "Children! You are all a bunch of children! It seems we are at an impasse of sorts, and ain't nothing gonna get solved by throwing petty insults around."

"You can't be serious, an impasse? How can you not listen to the things I'm saying? Dutch, you know me! I at least thought you'd listen to me and see sense," Arthur exclaimed, I could see the wounded look in his eye just from his profile.

"I thought I knew you, Arthur, but you started putting her before the rest of us and it's you that ain't been listening to me. You've questioned me at every turn ever since she showed up, and now you wanna turn around and act like I'm the one betraying you?" Dutch's voice cracked with its sudden raise in volume and I looked at the sneer of a smile Micah was wearing. 

"But Micah–"

"At least Micah is with me! All you're concerned with is getting away from me, running off with your new woman! Why should I listen to a damn word you say when you're a goddamn deserter!" Dutch yelled, thoroughly losing his temper. My heart felt as though it had been shattered. I shook my head and stared brokenly at Dutch.

"So that's it, that's what you think of me?" Arthur hissed after a few long seconds of painful silence. "All them years don't mean nothing now, yet you'll trust him, just fine," Arthur nodded slowly, leaning backwards, his body loosening, not quite shrinking, but losing its menace.

"I think we're getting a little off track, here," Micah indicated with a mildly impish tone, a little like he was tip-toeing through the words. Eager… but trying to hide it. "What're we doing about the traitor, Dutch?"

"Which one?" Was the response he got, and a series of gasps could be heard. 

"That ain't right, Dutch. First you give up on me and now you wanna do the same to Arthur? Ain't you thinking straight?" John rasped irritably, "what's wrong with you?"

"You're one to talk, seems real convenient that they had you locked up for a month or so and never hanged you!" Bill spat.

"Fuck you, Bill!"

"For God's sake! Why don't we just leave? We'll go our separate ways and that'll be it, never have to see each other again," I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut and balling my fists at my sides.

"You'd like that, now, wouldn't you? Finally getting your way, pulling this gang apart," Dutch said, regarding me with disdain. My jaw clenched tight and a growl built in my throat.

"She never did that, that was you and Micah. You didn't need any help from her," Arthur defended me. 

"You lot ain't had an ounce of loyalty between you!" Bill chipped in. 

"I have to agree," Javier added, a little pompousness to his tone. 

Everyone had their say, talking over one another and bickering and shouting and getting defensive and I stood there with something building and building inside me until I couldn't take anymore and I snapped–

"I am done with this!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, "I'm going! Anyone else who is finished here is free to fucking join me."

I spun around, pounding my feet into the hard mud below me as I headed straight for Rayna. 

"Ain't none of you gonna act?" I heard Micah questioning, words all but a growl. There was a pause, I had one foot in the stirrup. "Well I guess I gotta do everything around here," he added, and it gave me pause enough to turn and look to see what he was on about and–

My heart stopped when as quick as a whip he drew his gun, arm swinging up, eyes locked on me. I barely had enough time to register my fear before Arthur reacted; standing just a few feet away from him he threw himself at Micah, colliding hard with his chest, his shoulder slamming into him as he tackled him to the ground. The gun went off, Micah's arm flying up into the air, the stray bullet soaring past my head so close I could've sworn I'd felt a breeze. But the gun slipped from his grasp, skittering across the ground. 

Arthur was on top of him, grunts of exertion came from them both as they struggled and fought for the upper hand. It happened so quickly, not even giving anyone enough time to know what to do and then there was a sudden, choke of a gasp and Micah froze, his hands turning a sickly white with how hard they gripped onto the fabric of Arthur's shirt. Then I saw Arthur's hand jerk back, and registered the fresh blood – wet and glossy, adding to the dry flakiness from his own – before I registered the knife. 

Then everything kept moving. 

"Arthur!" Dutch yelled, and he along with everyone else swarmed forwards. Bill dragged Arthur off of Micah, pulling him out of the prickly grip on his clothes as if loosening him from the spines of a cactus. He stumbled back and landed on his backside, sitting on the ground and staring at the aftermath of the scuffle, the crimson knife still in his grip, wrist resting almost daintily on his knee as he stilled.

Huffs and grunts and wet, shaky gasps came from Micah where he remained on the ground, and I inspected him through the bodies rushing around him and saw the darker shade of red spreading out across his already carnelian shirt, rushing down to stain his beige pants. I stood with my mouth wide open, all stiff, not even in a fit state to tell my muscles to move let alone successfully do it. 

Charles and John came forwards, checking Arthur; his only wound was the one he already had, though it started bleeding profusely again, soaking his shirt with fresh blood after all the commotion. Charles took his wrist in his hand, and carefully peeled Arthur's fingers from the knife, removing it from his firm grip and tossing it on the ground. 

Mary-Beth was teary-eyed with shock, her hands plastered over her mouth where she stood far off from the crowd. Javier stared open-mouthed at Micah. Dutch and Bill hoisted the injured man up, hands underneath his arms. Micah hiccupped and gurgled and coughed and retched, groaning in agony, his face crumpled in a wince the likes of which I'd never seen on him. Blood oozed from his lower belly, leaving droplets on the ground like breadcrumbs all the way to Dutch's tent. Susan followed them, rushing around and yelling about cloth and towels and anything at all to stop the bleeding–

And I stood there, my foot still in the stirrup. Arthur still sitting on the ground, his head in his hand now, Charles and John asking him if he was okay, was he hurt? John congratulating him in a very muted way, telling him it was okay, he did what he had to, Micah deserved it. Sadie came into my line of sight and it took effort to get my ears to focus and register what she was saying. 

"You okay?" She was asking. I nodded numbly and dropped my foot down, marched straight over to Arthur and kneeled down beside him, hissing at the sharp pull on my burns but sucking it up, touching Arthur's arm and his knee and finally getting him to peel his eyes from the ground. 

"You hurt?" Were his first words and I shook my head sharply. 

"You are, we need to do something about this," I told him, bringing my hand to the wound on his side and applying some pressure. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath but I shushed him in a way I hoped was soothing. We needed to stop the bleeding. "Can someone get me something to clean this and wrap it up?" I asked anyone who'd listen. 

"Grimshaw's throwing everything we've got at that bastard in there, I don't know if there's anything–"

"Are you fucking serious?" I screeched, interrupting Sadie, my rudeness not at all intentional or personal. She didn't mind. 

"I know!" She hissed back, just as livid. 

With my free hand I opened up Arthur's satchel, it wasn't a time to worry about asking permission, I searched for whatever alcohol I could find. There was a few inches of whiskey left inside a bottle. It'd do. 

"Sweetheart, lie back," I whispered, and he did as he was told wordlessly. 

I pulled open his ruined shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders, his suspenders getting dragged off with it. He helped me get his upper body out of his union suit and I could finally see what was leaking all the blood. He had a deep gash ripping right past his mid torso, at the bottom of his ribcage. It was clear a bullet had skimmed past his side, trimming a chunk from him. An inch further in and he'd be in real trouble. 

"Arthur," I whispered, shaking my head. 

"I'm fine," he shook his head.

"You're hurt. Stop it," I chastised, "I'm gonna clean it as best I can. I'm gonna hurt you, but it's gotta be done. I think it'll need stitching, it needs closing up somehow," I added.

"I'll see what I can scavenge to help him," Sadie said. 

"Shall we move him to his bed?" John asked. 

"Yeah that's probably best," I nodded, watching the blood drip down Arthur's side with a churning gut. 

John and Charles helped Arthur to his feet and we all walked back through camp, enduring all sorts of stares. Some looked worried and upset, while others just looked pissed off. Disgusted. I didn't have time to really think about who was wearing which set of emotions.

"Did I really jus– did I kill him?" Arthur questioned, his tone lifting up in shock. 

"He ain't dead… you ain't–" I was trying to make him feel better. My instinct was to nurture away any guilt he might've felt; but he had no reason to be guilty. "Thank you," I suddenly blurted out. 

"Huh?" He grunted as Charles and John helped him to lay down on his bed.

"You saved me. He almost shot me," I breathed, a laugh bubbling out from me that was totally misplaced. Nothing about this was funny; I was just in shock. 

"You should'a gone in a second or third time with that knife," John hissed. "If that prick lives–"

"He won't," Charles said firmly, and it almost sounded like a threat the way he said it, "I'm calling it now, the knife went deep, and you see where it was? Try all they like to stop the bleeding, that had to have done some damage inside." 

"I didn't know I'd done it till it already happened. Didn't consciously do it," Arthur frowned to himself. I tended to him, pouring a splash of whiskey over his wound, earning a sharp hiss. "Who the hell expected me to just stand there and let him– he pointed his gun right at you! No fucker does that and lives, especially not someone I've been waiting for a damn excuse to kill anyway." 

"I got some stuff, managed to convince Grimshaw to give me just a little dressing. Got a needle too, in case he needs stitches," Sadie returned, handing the supplies over to me. I shook my head bitterly. 

"How on God's green earth can they all coddle him and leave you with nothing," I spat. "After what he's done! Why don't any of those fools believe us?"

"Cause he got to 'em first," Arthur muttered pessimistically, staring down at his side where I gently pressed an alcohol soaked cloth to him, cleaning the wound. "Anything we said after just sounded like we were trying to save ourselves."

"But you've been with Dutch years!" I exclaimed. 

"So's Marston, yet he's been a suspect since that bank robbery. Dutch had his doubts, thinking he was the rat; ain't no reason he wouldn't think the same of me. 'Specially since I been sneaking off with you, that fool will believe anything once he's got his claws hooked into an idea." 

"Goddamn it, I hate that you're right," John sighed, leaning against the side of the wagon. 

"So that's it? He thinks we're all betraying him, selling him out to the Pinkertons? I can't believe he's listening to Micah over anyone else, what a stupid man!" I spat through bared teeth, then took a breath to try and steady myself. I had to sew him up. "I am so sorry, all of you. If I hadn't– I don't know. This is unbelievable."

"Don't apologise for him. You ain't in control of how he thinks, he chooses to trust the wrong person, that's his mistake!" Arthur said, his eyes shifting across the camp towards Dutch's tent, unrelenting hatred in his eyes. "I will never forgive him, all those years I spent with him don't mean nothing to me no more."

"Stay still darlin', I'm gonna stitch you up," I told him softly. My hands were shaking a little as I eyed the wound. I really didn't want to hurt him. 

"If it makes you folk feel any better, Micah is not doing well," Sadie began frankly, "he was out cold when I was over there. Grimshaw's packing bandages into his gut just to try and stem the flow, ain't pretty. You really did a number on him, Arthur."

"I ain't sorry," Arthur muttered, "hope he dies slow."

"They keep wasting our medical supplies on prolonging the inevitable, he will. Even if they stop the bleeding, you probably punctured his intestines, or his bowels. Next few days will be fun, if he even lasts that long," Charles said almost nonchalantly, glancing off towards Dutch's tent.

I bit down on my lip as I carefully began to stitch up the gash on Arthur's side. He didn't flinch or make any noise, so either he was good at hiding it or I wasn't causing him much pain. It was reassuring enough that I could finish the job quite quickly. The stitches held enough to greatly reduce how much he was bleeding, so I carefully had him sit up so that I could wrap the dressing Sadie had nabbed around him. I secured it firmly, keeping it tight to his wound just enough to support and protect, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. I checked he was okay, if there was anything else I could do for him. 

Arthur shook his head, "thank you, my darlin'," he sighed, his words so sincere and sweet, his eye contact so warm and full of love it felt almost like it shouldn't be shared in the company of others. I kissed his forehead once, then rose to my feet. 

I cleared my throat and looked around at John, Charles and Sadie one by one. "So, what the hell are we gonna do?”

[abitnotgoodiebag]

take you down

in which Bucky is a menace and Sam let’s him know what’s what.

AO3 link

4200 words

PWP, daddy kink, deepthroating, rimming, spanking, slight breathplay, vibrators, hair pulling

 They had set up at their makeshift workstations that morning, intent on making a dent in the mountain of tasks that have accumulated during the past few field-work packed weeks.  Sam can barely see the surface of their dining table once he’s organized all of the documents so graciously sent by messenger.  Bucky’s pile is less than half the size of Sam’s and isn’t that just a bitch?  Sam is honestly trying to focus, but his Bucky-sized pain in the ass is making that entirely too hard.

 Bucky has been in a  mood all day.  Wearing nothing but some scandalous briefs and socks, he clearly hadn’t bothered getting dressed that morning.  And yes, they’re working from home so pants are, in essence, optional, but Sam is really trying to concentrate.  Bucky has been flitting about and giving Sam coquettish looks out of those big baby blues, exaggeratedly furtive.  It’s been a delicious distraction keeping him from getting anything productive done despite Sam having multiple mission reports to complete before the end of the weekend.

 Sam doesn’t buy the ‘coy yet innocent’ act, he knows Bucky knows exactly the effect he has on Sam and so he doesn’t feel bad at all when he gives up on his paperwork completely after trying once again to get his work done after their brief lunch interlude several hours before the work day is complete, growling and pulling Bucky along with him to the bedroom.

 He tosses Bucky onto his back on the bed, the look on his face promising pure torment for the both of them.  Bucky bites his bottom lip as he leans back on his elbows, back arched, his legs falling open, the bastard.

 “It looks like someone is in need of attention, doesn’t it?”  Sam asks wryly as he moves over to their nightstand to open the second drawer and peruse the contents.  He taps his finger against his bottom lip absently as he contemplates exactly what he wants, ignoring Bucky’s fidgeting on the bed.

 “Sa-am.”  Bucky finally whines dropping flat on his back on their comforter with a soft whump.

 Sam slowly turns to look at Bucky with fire in his eyes.  “Excuse me?”  He says in      that     tone.

 Bucky snaps his head to the side to look at Sam, his cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.  “Sammy.”  He tries again despite knowing what Sam wants from him.

 Sam stares at Bucky so intently it feels as if he’s looking into his very soul and says nothing.   Bucky sees Sam waiting to see how long Bucky will let this drag on.  The silence stretches until Bucky can’t take it anymore, needing to be touched.  

 “Big daddy,”  He whines.

 Sam raises an eyebrow, still silently staring.

 “I’m sorry, big daddy.”  Bucky says batting his eyes at Sam, managing to look very contrite,  “I’ll be good.”

 “Hmm.”  Sam grunts as he finally pulls something out of the drawer, blocking it from Bucky’s line of sight.  Bucky quickly looks away and Sam is pleased with his obedience.

 “I hope so, baby.”  Sam says as he slips whatever it is under a pillow.  Turning to give Bucky his full attention, Sam’s eyes darken when Bucky raises his arms over his head and crosses his wrists, leaving him looking wanton and completely on display.  He knows exactly how he appears and Sam isn’t fooled in the slightest.  A sharp smile finds its way to his lips.  It’s going to be one of  those days.

 Sam quickly divests himself of his clothing and climbs on the bed.  Kneeling over Bucky all spread out for him, Sam can't hold himself back from reaching down to tweak at Bucky’s nipples delighting at the gasp that evokes.  He grips them a bit more firmly, rolling the hardened nubs between his fingers, slowly increasing the pressure.  Before it becomes painful, Sam withdraws his hands, trailing them slowly up and down Bucky’s torso.  He lowers himself so that he’s sitting on Bucky’s restrained cock.

 “What am I going to do with you?”  Sam asks the flushed man below him, back to lazily brushing his thumbs over Bucky’s nipples.  “I had a lot to do today and thanks to you, nothing got done.”  He punctuates every other word with alternating hard pinches.

 Bucky moans and closes his eyes, his meaty pecs flexing under Sam’s hands.  “I’m sorry big daddy.  I didn’t mean to distract you- Oh!”  Sam gives his left nipple a harsh twist, rosy skin darkened further by burst blood vessels.  Bucky grinds up into Sam’s ass and is rewarded with another twist to the same stinging spot.

 “I think you did mean to distract me.”  Sam says as he leans down to lap at the right nipple.  He revels in the shudder he feels run through Bucky at the heat of his mouth.  He gently flicks his tongue, keeping the same gentleness with his hand.

 “Yes I d-did.”  Bucky moans.  “I did, big daddy.”   Bucky cries out as Sam bites down enough to hurt and then sucks hard.

 Pulling back with a pop, Sam glares at Bucky.  “You’re awfully cheeky today.”  He rolls his hips a bit, maddening Bucky with the feel of the fabric of his briefs rubbing against his prick.  “You’d rather I be working you over instead, hm, baby?”

 Bucky barely resists the urge to thrust up against the beautiful ass in his lap.  “I always want you, big daddy.”  Bucky says, honestly.

 “If you can behave,”  Sam says as he lifts off of Bucky’s lap and grabs a pillow and a bottle of lube.  He drops the pillow on the floor at the foot of their bed and sinks to his knees on top of it, leaving the lube on the bed.  “You may get something nice.”  Sam grips Bucky’s hips and pulls, motioning for Bucky to scoot closer.  At the edge of the bed, Sam watches Bucky approach hungrily.  

 “Hold yourself open,”  Sam commands, his cock getting even harder at the picture Bucky makes, flat on his back, hands hooked over his calves spreading himself completely open for Sam.  Trying to decide where he wants to start, Sam drinks him in greedily.  

 Sam begins by dragging his fingertips feather-light down the insides of Bucky’s thighs, savoring every single quiver.  He leans in, nosing at Bucky’s dick, enjoying the musk unique to the super soldier.   Bucky’s briefs are hindering him, however, and Sam will not stand for it.  He rips them open in one swift motion, setting Bucky’s cock free.   The scent is still completely captivating, and he licks a stripe along the seam of Bucky’s balls.  

 The quiet little gasp he just barely hears is more gratifying than it should be, and Sam vows to make sure it’s just the first of many.  Moving lower still, Sam’s tongue is shy at first, lapping at the edges of the pulsing ring of muscle.  It soon becomes bolder, swirling around in circles, getting Bucky wet and wanting.  The touches on Bucky’s thighs, however, don’t increase in pressure at all, driving him mad with the insufficient sensory stimuli.  He craves something rough and hard, and Sam is going to do everything in his power to make Bucky beg for it.

 Bucky can’t touch his cock without letting his legs go and that is its own sort of torture because Sam seems utterly disinterested in tending to it.  He’s straining and sweating, eyes squeezed tightly shut.  The harsh pants sound like a symphony to Sam and he waits patiently for Bucky to give in and plead for him to give him what he craves.  Sam can perfectly picture the frustrated look on Bucky’s face and he pulls his tongue out completely before plunging it right back in, deeper than before.

 Bucky cries out, his right leg wobbling dangerously as he loses focus on keeping himself spread out.  Sam smirks and slides a hand up to Bucky’s cock, running his thumb over the dribbling slit, spreading precum around.  A strangled cry tears itself from Bucky’s throat and the trembling intensifies under Sam’s fingertips.

 Sam strokes to the base where he quickly squeezes hard.  Bucky moans and Sam can hear the need.  He won’t be cruel, he’ll help Bucky along.

 “What do you want, baby?”  Sam asks, brusque, pulling away from Bucky slightly.

 “Please!”  Bucky cries.  “I need you big daddy.”  He cracks his eyes open and they are shining with tears.  “I need you inside me.”

 Sam snorts and shakes his head.  “You can’t even hold yourself open for my mouth and you want more.”  He releases Bucky’s cock and leans back.  “On your knees.”  He orders as he rises to his feet.  Sam smiles at the haste that Bucky takes to get on his hands and knees on the bed, engorged length hanging heavy and dripping between his legs.

 Sam settles behind Bucky on the bed.  “Put your forehead on your arms and stay.”

 Bucky obeys with a slight whine, clearly expecting Sam to get on with fucking him and Sam is eager to disappoint.  Instead he resumes his feather light touches from before.  Caressing the curve of Bucky’s ass, Sam traces the point where his legs begin and Bucky shivers.  He admires the wet hole, relaxed from Sam’s tongue and works his hands closer, feeling Bucky’s skin form goosebumps in anticipation.

 Sam leans down and presse light kisses to the small of Bucky’s back, grabbing the lube.  The small ‘click’ of the bottle opening has Bucky breathing heavy and clenching harder at the bedspread.

 Sam smirks and squeezes the bottle, drizzling lube all over that delicious opening, watching as it drips down to slide over his sac.   Sam slides his thumbs down passing both of them teasingly over that sweet spot.  Bucky moans and tries his hardest not to push back onto those fingers.  Sam wants to test every single fiber of that willpower and refuses to do more than brush his thumbs by, letting one catch on the rim every few passes.

 “Big daddy, please!”  Bucky whimpers low, wiggling his hips from side to side craving some sort of friction.

 Sam gives Bucky some relief and slips a finger into that tight heat.  He keeps his fingers at a maddeningly slow pace and adds a second finger only once Bucky brings himself to ask again.  The slow movement of Sam’s fingers in addition to light pets on his ass are driving Bucky to madness.  Sam pushes his fingers in deep, crooking them to find that place inside Bucky that makes him scream.  He does, and it’s music to Sam’s ears.  He also lifts his head, exactly as Sam anticipated he would.

 “Oh, baby, you’re not even trying are you?”  Sam sighs in excitement.

 The sound of the blow shocks Bucky into silence, and the red handprint sends a bolt of heat straight to Sam’s dick.  Bucky looks so pretty flushed like that and Sam wants nothing more than to decorate his baby boy.  Sam aims for the same exact spot and peppers two more smacks to the rosy flesh.  Sam hasn’t stopped his digits plunging slowly in and out and Bucky is incoherent.

 “Fuck, daddy,”  Bucky wails as he drops his head back to his forearms.

 Sam keeps pumping his fingers into Bucky as he reaches under the pillow and grabs the item hidden there only to abruptly remove them.

 Bucky whines his displeasure immediately.  “Big daddy, please.”  He pleads.  “I’ll be good.”

 Sam doesn’t respond verbally, instead pushing the curved vibrator inside Bucky in one smooth movement, Bucky’s groans just like music to his ears.  With both of his hands, free, Sam is able to begin his fun in earnest and he can barely restrain himself.  Squeezing both cheeks, Sam runs his hands over the slightly raised flesh on the left one, enjoying the heat still lingering.  He leans down to press a kiss there even as his right hand lands a stinging blow on the other cheek.   The impact is felt against his lips and the sharp, strangled gasp is the icing on top of the delicious cake that makes up Bucky Barnes.

 “Mm, so beautiful,” Sam murmurs as he runs his hand over the heated skin, stroking twice with his thumb.  Leaning back to admire his handiwork, Sam grabs the small remote control and activates the vibrator inside of Bucky.  Bucky almost sobs in surprise and bliss, throwing his head back as he arches his back involuntarily.

 Sam grunts in disapproval.  “Oh baby, you were doing so well.”   Bucky whines and puts his head back down, still trembling.  Sam doesn’t turn off the vibrator, instead increasing the intensity the moment he spanks him hard on the upper meat of his ass.  Bucky grits his teeth, but doesn’t break his position, to Sam’s pleasure.  Sam doesn’t let up, though, the sounds of his hand hitting Bucky’s flesh mingle with the buzzing from the toy and Bucky’s incoherent whimpering to create Sam’s favorite song.

 Bucky can’t even form words anymore, his mind is too caught up in the warring of pleasure and pain.  The vibrator is providing a strong vibration against his prostate sending waves of pleasure throughout his body again and again.  His muscles clench and unclench and the tingles running through his body are pure fire under his skin.  He feels like he will split open under the force of it and he never wants it to end.   Bucky almost bites clean through his bottom lip and can’t keep his head down any longer, throwing it back as Sam strikes him at the point that his ass becomes his thigh.  The  vibrations immediately cease and Sam rains a flurry of blows up and down his thighs before pausing.

 Bucky’s pants are going straight to Sam’s dick and he can’t wait any longer.  Quickly moving around to Bucky’s front, he lays with his shoulders against their headboard, legs splayed.  “Come here.”

 Bucky looks up at Sam and crawls forward, shivering slightly as the cool air assaults the angry skin of his legs and ass as he stays on all fours.  Bucky misses the intense vibrations of the toy and is eager for Sam to turn it back on.  Sam grips his dick, holding it out in offering and Bucky is only too happy to press a kiss to the head, his lips coming away wet from the pre-cum that had been leaking steadily.   Bucky looks up at Sam through his lashes, clumped together from his tears and licks his lips clean, humming in satisfaction.

 “Oh, baby.”  Sam groans as his dick twitches, “Give big daddy some more of that.”

 Bucky heeds the order eagerly, sucking the tip into his mouth and curling his tongue around it.  Bucky’s eyes drift shut as he concentrates on Sam’s pleasure.  The tongue lapping at Sam’s frenulum pulls a groan from him and he can’t help but tangle his fingers in Buckys hair as he continues working at the head of Sam’s cock.

 Pulling back slightly, Bucky licks from root to tip and looks at Sam with a challenge in his eyes as he continues his teasing licks, never taking Sam fully into his mouth.  Sam loves it when Bucky is like this.  Bucky doesn’t want to be good, not really.  That's why he has Sam, to make sure he does what he’s told.  Sam’s grip on Bucky’s hair tightens and he gives him no time to adjust, he pushes Bucky’s head slowly down until his nose is pressed firmly against his skin.

 The heat of Bucky’s throat is heaven to Sam’s cock and he savors the involuntary motions made in an attempt to swallow.  Bucky moans around Sam and he just barely keeps his hips from bucking.  Bucky’s tears finally spill as his throat is used for nothing more than servicing his daddy’s magnificent cock.  Sam tugs up a tiny bit, almost-but-not-quite enough to let Bucky breathe and is rewarded with another groan.  Sam is transfixed at the sight of the tears leaking from Bucky’s eyes and the drool running down Bucky’s chin and over his own balls.  Sam has too much left to do to cum this early so he yanks Bucky’s head off of his cock.

 “Kiss me.”  Sam commands, voice sounding like velvet.  Bucky’s hands are instantly on his chest as his wet, reddened lips meet his.   Sam cups Bucky’s face and they nip at each other's mouths, tongues reaching out to dance.  Their teeth clack together as they once again come together but it doesn't deter them.  Sam’s tongue slides alongside Bucky’s and he wants to follow his cock down Bucky’s perfect throat.   Sam’s beard comes away wet with Bucky’s saliva and Bucky winks at him before lowering himself back down to Sam’s cock.

 This time he only just finishes placing a kiss to the head before Sam grabs his head to immediately cut off Bucky’s airways again. Drool drips out of the corners of BUcky’s mouth and Sam has a wicked idea.  He reaches down, glad that the remote wasn’t knocked off of the bed.  The clench around Sam’s prick comes a millisecond after Sam turns the toy inside of Bucky back on.  The bliss-filled moans turn Bucky’s throat into an almost vibrator for Sam and he has to close his eyes because Bucky’s flushed, wet face stuffed full of his cock will surely cause Sam to come right then.

 Sam lets almost a full minute go by before he pulls Bucky off with a pop, leaving only a thread of saliva leading back to Bucky’s bottom lip.  Bucky gulps in air and looks up at Sam who stares right back.  The blue of Bucky’s is almost completely lost to his pupils and he almost growls before diving back down to Sam’s cock, no longer playing at being demure.  Bucky sinks down on his own volition and sucks, hard.  He bobs his head furiously, the toy driving him to rut against the bed as he does.  Sam doesn’t want Bucky coming on anything but his cock, however, so he pulls Bucky up by his hair again.

 Bucky whines petulantly, but doesn’t pull free of Sam’s grasp.   Sam holds Bucky’s head up by his hair a moment longer before flinging his head back hard enough that Bucky falls backward, breathing heavily.

 Quickly getting to his knees, Sam snaps his fingers and Bucky’s eyes fly open, landing right on  Sam.

 “Turn over, baby.”  Sam says, a slight tremor betraying his arousal.

 Bucky’s reddened backside is a stunning visual and Sam trails a hand down his spine until he reaches the vibrator.  He presses slightly against it, watching Bucky wiggle as he feels the sharp buzz.  He pulls the toy out and Bucky’s hole is revealed, open and waiting for Sam.   Once again reaching for the lube, Sam strokes himself, covering his cock liberally before pressing forward into Bucky in one hard push.

 Bucky’s mind is fuzzy, finally filled up with Sam’s cock and he can’t help but beg for more as he curves his spine down and pushes his ass back against strong thighs.  Sam holds Bucky’s hips in place as he pulls out, not allowing Bucky any more than Sam decides to give.

 “More, daddy!”  He pleads as Sam refuses to go any faster.

 Sam raises his left hand and decides to paint his baby boy’s ass a deeper shade of red.

 “Like that?”  Sam asks, grin evident in his voice.  Not waiting for an answer, Sam spanks him again as he drives his cock back in.  Sam teases Bucky like that, scattering swats among his thrusts until Bucky’s arms buckle and his head falls to the mattress.  His cock is full and leaking onto the comforter below him.

 Sam drives in deep and drapes himself over Bucky, soaking in the trembling warmth of his mistreated skin.  He moves his hips a tiny bit, sighing as Bucky twitches under him.  Sam drops a kiss on Bucky’s neck before sucking at the same spot, making Bucky roll his head to the side with a moan.  He creates a new constellation in the hollow of Bucky’s throat as he grips Bucky by the hair, pulling them up so that Bucky is perched on his lap.

 Sam doesn’t stop his assault on Bucky’s neck and begins to move slowly.  He reaches down to wrap his hand loosely around Bucky’s weeping cock and stroke it, rubbing his thumb around the head.  He barely moved his hips, keeping most of his dick buried inside of Bucky’s tight heat.

 “Fuck, harder Sammy!”  Bucky moans, unsatisfied, as Sam keeps up his frustratingly abortive thrusts.

 Sam stills at once, hand gripping Bucky’s hair painfully tight. “The fuck did you say?”  Sam’s voice is gruff and low and promises punishment.

 “Please, fuck me harder, big daddy!” Bucky cries, panting with need.  He is covered in a sticky layer of sweat, his face flushed deep with want.  Sam has been keeping him right on the edge for the better part of an hour and Bucky doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.  He feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes spill over and his body is overcome with warm tingles.

 Sam takes pity on him and without warning goes deep and hard, setting an unforgiving rhythm within the super soldier.  Sam jerks on Bucky’s hair again, pulling his head back far enough to claim a hard kiss, speeding up the snap of his hips even more sending a shiver through his spine.  Bucky moans low as he listens to the sounds of their flesh slapping together.

 Bucky can feel his climax building.  “Big daddy I’m so close.” Bucky bites his lip and whines as Sam swivels his hips a bit, guiding his cock to hit Bucky’s prostate with each thrust.

 “Such a good boy.” Sam pants, voice deep and thick with lust.   “Come for me, baby.  Let big daddy hear you make those pretty little noises, hm?”  Sam grips Bucky's hip hard enough to bruise and bites down hard on Bucky’s shoulder.  Bucky needs no further encouragement before he is spilling all over his own chest and stomach with a keening cry, not needing anything more than Sam’s voice and cock inside of him to finally bring him over the edge.

 Sam sighs, still tugging lightly at Bucky’s hair as his dick is squeezed deliciously during the aftershocks of Bucky’s orgasm.  This is almost enough to finish him off but Sam slows down abruptly, not quite finished with his lover yet.

 “You feel good, baby?”  Sam asks as Bucky’s head lolls to the side, no longer being held up.

 “Yeeesss.”  Bucky slurs.

 Sam thrusts once, hard.  “Yes,      what    , baby?”

 Bucky moans as his oversensitive body is stretched around Sam’s cock.  He feels as if electricity is in his veins and he isn’t sure how much longer he has before he shorts out but he is keen to find out.   “Yes-uh-Yes big daddy. I feel good!”  Bucky arches his back rising off Sam’s cock a bit.

 Sam stills, seeing what exactly Bucky will do.  Seconds go by before Bucky grinds down slowly, exhaling lightly, eyes drifting closed.  He could spend all day like this, on Sam’s cock and Sam seems content to let him.

 Bucky continues to roll his hips in lazy circles enjoying the feeling of Sam splitting him open.  Sam lets him continue for a few minutes longer before he rises up suddenly, causing Bucky to sprawl forward onto his elbows with a cry.

 Sam is no longer letting Bucky control the pace, pressing down between Bucky’s shoulder blades, driving his cock as deep as it will go.  The sounds of their flesh slapping together is punctuated only by Bucky’s short moans and Sam’s deep grunts. It doesn’t take long for Sam to reach the edge and Bucky pushes him over as he arches his back further than most humans are capable of.  Sam grips Bucky’s hips, groaning as his cock is milked of every last drop.  Bucky’s satisfied hum makes Sam chuckle as he bends down to press a kiss to the bite mark on Bucky’s shoulder.

 He slowly pulls out, feeling Bucky squirm under him as his spend leaks out of his sated hole.   Sam sighs as he rolls off of the super soldier and swings his legs off the edge of the mattress to rest on the floor, body turned around to look at Bucky tenderly.  “You’re perfect, Buck.”

 Bucky smiles at Sam with his eyes half-lidded and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.  “Mm, I love you, Sammy.”

 “I love you too, Buck.”  Sam murmurs as he makes for the bathroom, returning quickly with a damp washcloth, wiping Bucky’s trembling skin down in long slow strokes.  He takes special care as he slides the cloth between the cleft of Bucky’s ass, removing the last traces of lube and semen. Leaning over to plant random kisses along Bucky’s back, Sam wipes off his own cock and throws the small towel in the general direction of their closet.  Bucky has already started breathing too deeply to still be awake so Sam snuggles next to his man and drifts off into dreamland, warm in the late afternoon sunlight, with a smile in his lips and their fingers tangling together on top of the rumpled sheets.

[kewltie]

His office door slams open and a familiar voice comes through the doorway. "Boss! There is a horde of children, a horde of them," Nagai gasps, "outside looking for you. What did you do?!"

Katsuki doesn't even look up from his paperworks. "Do half of them look like they will eviscerate you if you get within ten feet of the group?"

A beat, and then, "Well, yes," Nagai admits sheepishly. "The oldest girl had stared me down like I'm the scum of the earth and I'd never felt so emasculated by a child before."

Katsuki slides out of his seat and stands up. "Yea, those are my brats alright."

"W-wait, what?" Nagai squeaks, face running through a gauntlet of horror. "Yours? You mean as in yours-yours like they're your kids? You reproduce? How does that even work—?"

When Katsuki gives him a searing glare, Nagai has the grace to look apologetic even as he doesn't retract his words. "Do I have to go over basic sex education with you?" he seethes as he walks up to Nagai.

"Uh, no, sir," Nagai says, shaking his head rapidly like a wet dog. "It's just, well," he scratches his cheek, "we never saw you with anyone before. Half of us either thought you were celibate and just obsessed with your work, while the rest thought you were, um," Nagai looks like a deer in headlights, "impotent," he finishes in a rush.

Katsuki swats him in the back of his head. "Stop fucking gossiping with the interns."

"Sorry, boss," Nagai says with a grimace. "We're just surprise that you didn’t just have one but several secret children running around and nobody even had a clue."

"I didn't contribute to their genetics," Katsuki grinds out, because he’s tired of going over this, "but those brats are mine in every sense of the word."

"Oh," Nagai says, brows furrowing. He opens his mouth as thought to say more but quickly closes it when Katsuki shoves pass him and heads out of the door. But it's not long before he starts it up again. "I guess that would explain why they don't look like you at all."

"What clued you in, genius?" Katsuki says dryly. "Is it their white hair or grey eyes?"

"Well, one of them, actually have green hair and eyes instead," Nagai points out, which earns him another swat. "Ouch."

Katsuki roll his eyes. "Shut up, you fucking baby. You're made of steel."

"Boss, your fist of fury can blow a hole through steel, so yea, I'm concern," Nagai defends as they make their way from the back of the agency to the more communal area because Katsuki prefer to keep them far apart as possible. Privacy is valuable commodity that he wouldn’t spare for anything less than absolutely. “I’m actually extremely concern when your hand land on any part of my body."

Katsuki snorts. Fuck HR and everyone who thinks fear can't be a good foundation to a build a work relationship on. His subordinates need a healthy dose of fear to get motivated to do their fucking jobs.

Or else they become useless like this—he curses inwardly.

As soon as they step into the main open area of the agency, there's a cluster of front office personals, interns, and off-duty heroes crowding over several small figures.

Their voice drown out all other noises in the area.

"Are you the Boss' children?" someone asks.

"Where did you come from?" another presses.

"Who is your dam?" A curious excited tilt to their voice.

"Awe, you're so cute!" A coo.

"This isn't a daycare," Katsuki snaps, raising his voice above the crowd. "Get the fuck back to work. I don't pay you all to stand around and do nothing." A series of whine escape but they quickly disperse back to their corner, but he can still their heavy gazes on him. Noisy fuckers.

"Um, I'll just go do something over there then," Nagai says, making a run for it before Katsuki can bite his head off also. Katsuki sighs, feeling a throb stirring in the back of his head. He turns his attention the real source of his headache—three menacing little shits.

They make quite a scene. Like pretty dressed up dolls, standing closely together with held hands as they present a united front against the world. Hikaru, protectively bookend by his older sisters, is wearing a baby blue hoodie with rabbit ears and white pants. It's fucking precious. If Hikaru is supposed to soften the world up for the slaughter then his sisters go right in for the kill. Yuko carries herself like a queen in her red laced dress, mary jane shoes, and a black beret on top of her head. Close by Akira doesn't settle for second best either. She has on a Ground Zero team jacket on with a GZ baseball cap on her head, a another GZ piece of merch on her feet adorned in his signature colors, and a plaid skirt around her hips. The brats are out in style.

It's an overkill, but fuck do they look good doing it.

Ironic, though, that Izuku can barely dress himself, but he always makes sure the brats look good enough to kill when they go out. No wonder they always catch attention no matter where and what they do. A sense of pride sweeps over him, because, yea, they're his brats too.

"Numbers," Katsuki greets them with a short wave.

"Kacchan," they say in unison. Yuko in her cold, detached tone. Akira chirps it excitedly. And Hikaru's voice is soft and sweet. They drop hand so Hikaru can wave shyly at him, because his sisters are too cool for that shit.

Hikaru quickly breaks rank and slams right into Katsuki's leg. "Hi," he murmurs, looking up at Katsuki with warmth eyes.

"Yo," he says back, bending down to lift Hikaru up and holds him over his hip. "What you monsters doing here?"

"Delivering Papa's bento to you!" Akira informs him.

A chorus of oohs and aahs echoes throughout the space. Katsuki snaps his neck toward the noise and glares at them to quite frankly shut the fuck up as Hikaru tucks his head against Katsuki's chest. Unlike his older siblings, Hikaru doesn't fair well under the spotlight.

"Papa requested that we bring your lunch to you," Yuko explains, words carefully enunciated and poised as though they can be pluck off of her tongue. Yuko always come off much older than she really is and maybe that's the burden of being the first born. All the responsibility and pressure, but none of the advantage. She got three younger siblings behind her and another on the way; she can't relax at all. There's an air of unapproachability around her that is indifference to the world but doting to her younger siblings and dam.

Katsuki and Yuko aren't close compare to the rest of the numbers, but a mutual respect is share between them. He's the one providing her family with a roof over their head and food on the table, and she holds her tattered family together with nothing but sheer determination.

She's good girl; Izuku had raised her right.

Yuko looks pointedly at a wrapped bento box that had been tucked to her side the whole time. "He made mentaiko for you since he’d said you like it."

"His first time too!" Akira adds with a grin.

Yuko scowls, bumping her sister shoulder. "Don't tell him that!"

Hikaru lifts his head up and leans closely to Katsuki's ear. "I’d tasted it earlier," he makes a face, "and it's not very good," he confesses, hush and guiltily like a prisoner on deathrow. “I didn’t like it at all.”

"Hikaru, you traitor!" Akira snaps as Yuko drops her face into her hand in exasperation. “Don’t go exposing Papa’s secret!”

"You shouldn't be yelling at him when you're just as bad," Yuko accuses.

Akira huffs. "I would never say anything mean about Papa!"

"It’s always you and your big mouth," Yuko seethes as thick black tendrils crawl to the surface of her skin like living tattoos. "This is where Hikaru had picked his bad habits from. "Inky shadows seeps from her feet and spread across the floor, pooling beneath her as several pointed pillars rise from it.

"You're so bossy, nee-chan!" Akira narrow her eyes, spread her stance, and raises her fists, lips curling in a sneer. "Maybe someone should teach you a lesson instead."

"Fucking hell," Katsuki grumbles, stepping forward to get between them. "Hey, hey, cut that shit out, you brats."

He slightly nudges Hikaru in the back to help him out and Hikaru, who is clearly the best child ever, begs urgently, "Yuko-neechan, Akira-neechan, please don't fight."

Yuko draws in a long breath before closing her eyes, finding that zen within her as the inky black tendril recedes back into her body. "I apologize for such an uncouth display," she says coolly, opening her eyes. It's a calm pool of grey once more. "That was rude of us."

Akira relaxes her tense muscle and drops her fighting stance. "Sorry," she says chagrin, but not completely appeased because despite being the only quirkless individual among her overpower siblings, Akira has enough gutso and blind bravery to fight anyone and everything. Sometimes even her own siblings. It's one of her worst and best qualities; she just doesn't know her own limit. "We'll be good now."

"Don't bullshit me, no. 3," Katsuki scolds. "You four exist just to drive me to an early grave."

Akira grins, rocking back on her heels. "But you loooooove us anyway."

"God, knows why," he says, pulling a disgust face at himself because fuck him does he love these little shits and all their complicated neurosis and hang-ups.

"And we all love you too," Hikaru adds, because he’s the best kid .

"Some of us do," Yuko corrects with an up turned nose, because praise from drawing blood from stone. “I may have accepted him, but doesn’t mean he is our father yet.”

Akira's head snaps to her sister as she opens her mouth to give another vicious barb, but just before that Katsuki quickly cuts in: "Okay, just tell me where are Deku and no. 2 first. I'm sure he didn't come alone and I already miss no. 2's death glare drilling a hole in my head."

Kouki’s zero tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, even his siblings, would be fucking awesome right now.

"Oh, Papa is outside waiting for us," Akira says as Yuko frowns beside her. "And Kouki-niichan is with him to make sure no alpha harassed him."

"What the fuck," Katsuki says, annoyed and beyond confused. "Why don't they just come in with you instead of sending just you brats?”

"Papa's shy," Hikaru whispers in his ears. "He doesn't want to bother you or cause you problem at your work place if he were here."

"You guys aren't mate or married so it would improper for him to visit you without causing sordid rumors," Yuko argues.

"And the fact that you three are here, isn’t either?" Katsuki demands dryly, gesturing to the three menace wrecking a havoc in his agency and the ears and eyes that had been training on them since their appearance here.

Yuko grimaces as Akira gives a sheepish smile.

"Mad, Kacchan?" Hikaru asks, mouth drawn tight as his voice quiets out.

"No," Katsuki answers, pinching Hikaru's cheek. "I'm actually fucking stoke." He turns to the other two and orders, "No. 3, go get Deku and no. 2 and tell them to get their ass in here."

Akira’s eyes light up and she grins. "Yes, sir." She salutes him and runs off.

"Here is what’s going to happen when Deku and no. 2 get here: we'll go to the lounge, grab a table, and you're all going to watch me eat your Papa's shitty food and hope I don't fucking get food poison, alright?" Katsuki tells the remaining two as Yuko makes a face and Hikaru giggles in his ear.

[gaycrouton]

prompt idea I thought you would do excellent on: pre relationship, scully ends up getting another dog, a big one this time that she takes out on runs with her and basically is her guard dog on runs and at home, mulder is jealous of said dog :)

Hey! Thanks for sending to me, this is so cute!! XD I hope it turned out okay, I’m still new to experimenting with this vingette combo style and I also never interact with dogs.

msr / pre-relationship / fluff / au

1)

“His name’s Stubb,” she explained with a beaming smile as he was being mauled by what had to have been a descendent of Sasquatch. Or, at least, he thinks she’s smiling - he lost sight of her when the mutt licked his eyes, seemingly wanting to explore Mulder but not finding anything that intrested him.

“And, uh, why is Stubb here?” he asked, trying to ease the creature back on all fours. Even when it was, he was still at Mulder’s upper thigh, he must’ve been at least at Scully’s waist.

“I adopted him,” she explained, laughing as Stubb ran back to her and nuzzled against her side, nearly toppling her over. He was right, seeing them side to side, he had no doubts that dog weighted more and, was probably two times bigger than, Scully. She could probably put a saddle on the thing and save on gas.

“...he uh...seems a lot different than Queequeg,” he chuckled, watching Scully get knocked off her feel a few times from the dog’s enthusiasm. Hell, Queequeg was probably as big as this dog’s last bowel movement.

“He’s a mastive, apparently he’d been at the shelter for almost a year because no one wanted him since he’s so big,” she replied, petting the dog fondly behind his ears. Well that explained it - of course Scully would choose the mutt no one else wanted. That was just so her.

“I didn’t know you wanted a dog,” he replied slowly. This was out of left field. It was selfish, this was just a dog after all, but the thought of someone-thing else taking her attention away from him, especially when they’d been so close as of late, made the green eyed monster come out a little in him.

The dog knew that too. Mulder could just see it in his face as Stubb jumped up and licked the cheek Mulder’d placed a kiss on the other night - as if to say she’s mine now in dog terms.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably as her smile faltered, “I just-I thought it’d be nice to have someone here with me.”

Oh.

The realization felt like a bucket of cold water to his face. He could still smell the new plaster they had to cover the bullet hole in the ceiling with, he could still see the fresh bruises left in Pfaster’s wake, he’d seen the way she’d jumped in the office when he moved too fast. She wanted someone here as a form of protection. She was alone when Pfaster attacked her and no one had come. She’d had to save herself. Again.

He was glad she’d gotten someone to come home to at night.

He just wished it was him.

2)

They looked ridiculous, absolutely 100% ridiculous, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

His attention was drawn to them immediately, even from the other side of the park. A petite woman running while a massive dog simply trotted along to keep up with her was jarring to the eye as much as it was funny - she was covered in a sheen of sweat while the tog looked like he was exuding no effort.

As his eyes adjusted, he realized that the petite woman was noneother than Dana Scully, taking her new dog out on a run.

Picking up his own pace, he started cutting across the grass so he could get on the same trail as her. Had he ever seen Scully in excersize gear? From his vantage point a few yards behind her, her little ponytail jumped in place with every foot fall, and the tight material of her outfit complimented her every curve. God, she looked hot.

Wanting to surprise her, he ran a little faster so he would end up running next to her. She hadn’t noticed him yet by the time he was a foot away, but Stubb sure as hell did. The dog locked eyes with him and let out a low menacing growl, placing his own body between him and Scully. Mulder shot the dog an equally annoyed glace and tried to move to the other side, only to have him follow. 

This game of back and forth went on for a few more feet until Scully noticed someone behind her and stopped slowly, looking over her shoulder to see who it was. “Oh, hey, Mulder!” she exclamied while panting, stopping with the dog at her feet. 

“Hey, Scully,” he panted, jumping when the dog barked at him.

“No! Stubbs, that’s Mulder. Be nice to him,” Scully chastized in a tone he was slightly offended to realize had been used on him before.

“I don’t think he likes me, Scully,” Mulder informed cautiously. 

“What makes you think that?” she asked, petting the dog while looking at him and inadvertenly missing the way the dog bared it’s teeth to him.

“He refused to let me get close to you. Plus, just look at him,” he exclaimed. But as soon as Scully turned, the dog stuck out his tongue and lovingly leaned into her touch. Funny, he thought this type of thing only happened when he was trying to get her to look at a UFO.

“Mulder, don’t be silly,” she laughed. 

The dog nuzzled into her side and Mulder swore the thing was making fun of him.

3)

Last he’d remembered, movie nights were a two person thing. 

In face, last week pre-Stubbs (that’s how he referred to his life now - was it pre or post dog) he’d finally gotten the balls to sit close enough on the couch to Scully that their legs touched. The week before that he’d just accidentally brushed her knee. It might not seem like much, but when it’s taken several years just to get her to want to hand out, this type of development was a rapid progression. 

This week he’d been hoping he might down enough Shiner to get the nerve to wrap an arm around her - apparently the juvenile moves of a middle schooler were now his goals. But instead, he was smashed into the side of the couch while the dog sat in the middle of them. 

The dog in question currently had his head in Scully’s lap and Mulder couldn’t even hold it in this time - he was jealous of a dog. As he sat their and twiddled his thumbs, Stubb got the full brunt of Scully’s affection. Asshole.

Wanting to have atleast had some sort of contact with Scully tonight, he rest his arm along the back of the couch so that his fingers just barely grazed the nape of her neck. Being daring, he let his middle finger peep out and gently touch the skin underneath her baby hairs. Just as he felt a smattering of goosebumps erupt under his touch, the dog was up with a bark.

“What’s wrong, Stubb?” Scully asked leaning forward, not noticing the way Mulder’s jaw clenched out of irritation.

“He doesn’t like it when I touch you. Or look at you. Or exist near you,” Mulder explained, setting his hand back in his lap.

“Not true,” Scully laughed.

Deciding to be bold, he reached over the dog to place his palm on her thigh. As soon as hand touched leg - the dog was headbutting him away. “Huh,” she uttered with uncertainty, watching as the dog jumped off the couch to stand in front of them - watching with intensity.

Emphasizing his point, he put his hand out in front of him and slowly moved it towards Scully, both of them watching the dog’s expression change from curiosity to fierce protection with every millimeter he got closer. By the time he was close enough to feel her body heat, Stubb barked and put his paws on the couch in warning.

“That can’t be right,” she mused.

4)

“Stubb,” he deadpanned.

“No, not like that, Mulder. He can hear you don’t like him,” Scully admonished.

“I don’t mind him, it’s him who doesn’t like me,” Mulder reminded.

She rolled her eyes and tried to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Try again.”

“Stubb,” Mulder called out with fake enthusiasm, patting his legs. But the dog didn’t move. He stayed latched at Scully’s side like he wanted to build a home there. Not that Mulder blamed him.

Scully frowned and looked from the dog to him specutively. “Try again.”

Putting on a fake smile, he patted his knees and snapped his fingers, “Stubb, come ‘ere.” The dog growled in response and Scully gasped. “See! Did you see that!” Mulder exclimed, pointing at the dog like a tattling child.

“Bad Stubb!” Scully reprimanded. The dog whined at her dissaproval and Mulder couldn’t help but empathize with the way he bowed his head and his ears fell.

Scully walked over to him and, before he could even process, she wrapped her arms around his torso and nuzzled her head against his side. “Stubb, we like Mulder, look,” she called out, getting the dog’s attention. 

Stubb perked up and looked at the pair, immediately standing up in confused alert that she was so close to the enemy. He tentatively put one paw in front of the other and watched the pair, cocking his head. “I think it’s working,” she whispered.

“What is?” Mulder asked, not trusting the mutt.

“Stubb,” she called out sweetly. “Look,” she demanded before raising herself on her toes and pressing a noisy, firm kiss to Mulder’s cheek, bending back down afterwards to nuzzle against him once more. Oh, this was her tactic. Get him to love by showing her own. He had to say, it was his favorite theory of hers yet.

Deciding to participate, just to back her up and all, he raised his hands and hugged her back, pressing their bodies together as they watched the dog. Well, realistically Mulder was barely paying attention to anything other than feeling Scully so intimately pressed to him, while being so affectionate nonetheless.

“Try petting his head,” Scully instructed him when the dog got close enough to touch. Reluctantly letting go of her, he bent down and touched Stubb’s head surprised when the dog let him.

“It’s working!” she exclaimed, squeezing him for emphasis.

“Uh, kinda,” Mulder countered. The dog was letting him touch him, but he was in no way encouraging it. It was like he was wearing a party hat to an event he never wanted to attend, and Mulder’s hand was the hat.

Part of him couldn’t believe she wasn’t seeing that this dog did not trust him, while the other part was touched that she seemed so averse to the possibility that something wouldn’t like him.

5)

Mulder made it his life mission to protect Scully.

Stubb made it his life mission to protect Scully.

Of course this would be what made them see eye to eye.

She’d been distracted, padding around her apartment after they’d finished some take out when she slipped on some water and started falling to the floor - hard. They both noticed at the same time, but Mulder was closer (and a human), so he was able to catch her just in time before she fell. Instead of falling ass-first onto the hardwood, she fell into Mulder who fell back and took the brunt of the fall, the dog running around them while looking for frantic assurance she was okay.

“You alright?” he laughed, ignoring the soreness in his left cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she laughed, pivoting in between his legs to look at him.

“You’re fine,” he smiled back, watching Stubb lick her face in comfort.

Then, much to his surprise, Stubb turned and licked him too, nuzzling into him while his pink tongue panted in happiness. 

Scully’s face lit up and she set one hand on Mulder’s leg while the other reached up to pet the dog. “He’s licking you!” she exclaimed, as if the five o’clock shadow made of dog saliva wasn’t clueing him in to that fact.

“Thank you, Stubb,” he joked, trying to dislodge the dog from his face which only resulted in him laying across Mulder’s lap.

“I think he’s saying thank you,” she admitted, sending him a beaming smile.

He’d let the dog lick him forever if it meant he could get a smile like that.