#your life if you don’t kill it’ he’d probably think the gods were more messed up than the child ( which in hindsight they are ) and say ..

[luvuomi]

✎ . . . ❝ [ amethos but, epic au! ]❞ .ೃ࿐

dedicated tracks: “the horse and the infant” & “just a man”

though strategic in his battle tactics and a master in the art of war, sethos is not one who particularly enjoys the bloodshed and adrenaline that comes along with it. unfortunately in this day in age, not many would agree. for them, to harbor such skilled yet deathly attributes, should thus be carried with pride. only then, can a man ever wish to become that which is greater than himself. this is how many view the reigning king of tulaytullah.

an adversary that is neither man nor mythical, but one’s darkest moment.

but would his fellow comrades still think the same of him now if they saw him hesitating on striking down his greatest foe? granted.. said foe was nothing more than a mere infant.

a fragile, defenseless being he now cradled in his arms, a familiar gesture that brought forth memories of his own child as he looked into their eyes. how could such innocence be deemed a threat by the gods? to be the bearer of such great calamity?

he couldn’t do it. how can when all he sees as he carries this child are fleeting images of his own son and wife.

where as he stands out on the balcony overseeing a once prosperous nation now set ablaze and ringing with battle cries from his invasion, he imagines for a moment that he’s back home in tulaytullah. even after all the years, away from everything he’s known, he can still see the image of the streets below bustling with vendors as they open up shops and prepare for the day ahead. instead of the smoky air, he imagines the mellow summer breeze that travels through the air of his kingdom, greeting him a pleasant morning.

in this daydream, sethos continues to hold the infant in his arms, having decidedly taken him in to raise as his own. at his right, his own son tugs at him, eagerly wanting to meet his new little brother and on his left, is his wife — amélie . her head resting upon his shoulder while tender eyes gaze upon the infant that she of course welcomed with open arms. it’s a distant future but one that is so picturesque, he almost believes it to be true.

but as the infant’s cries suddenly echo out, everything vanishes as quickly as it came, reduced to nothing more than the ashes that fill the darkened skies.

the world he desires is not awaiting him should he go against the will of the gods.

to have sympathy now would come at too much of a cost. one he can’t afford to lose as a man who’s just trying.. begging to go home.

[frankenkyle19]

Rhythm of your undead heart

Description: You’ve been begging James for months to let you take control in the bed. Just for one night. He finally says yes, without realizing just how much he sighed up for

I was listening to Mr. Schwartz by Arctic Monkeys on repeat while writing the rest of this and ended up SPEEDING through it. Thank god for music

word count: 4.3k

warnings: smut, anal, probably ooc James, pain kink, mentions of blood and James�� past

It was difficult. Being in a relationship with not only an infamous serial killer, but a dead one at that. At times he acted as if he didn’t give a damn about you. As if you didn’t even exist. He had other ‘matters to attend to’ according to him. But despite it all, you stayed by his side. He was eternally grateful for that. Now he  may not have always made it known, but he really was fond of you. You made his undead heart flutter. Made him feel things that he nearly forgot he could feel after his many years of being dead. Feelings he hadn’t felt since the first time he laid eyes on his dear countess. 

James was a very attentive lover, almost always seeing to your needs immediately. He wanted you to be so content in his hotel that you wouldn’t ever think of leaving. Sometimes he’d even fantasize about killing you. What it would be like to lay you out on his bed, ravage you, and while you’re in the throes of release with him so deep inside you, he would slide his knife across the delicate, vulnerable skin of your neck. How he’d watch you choke on your own blood, eyes wide and full of fear, before you would inevitably return to him in your ghostly form. Maybe one day he would take your life, but he enjoyed you enough right now that he kept you just as you were. It was an honor. But it would also be just as much of an honor to be killed by the man.

The one thing James March was not, was submissive. There was not a single bone in his body that ever wanted to submit to you, or to anyone. It simply wasn’t in his nature. He was raised by a father who had the wrong ideas of what a man should or rather, had to be. And no matter how many times you asked, his answer stayed the same.

No my dear, I don’t think I will. 

Still, you persisted. Months and months of asking James to just let you have one night to pleasure him. Tie him to the bed and have your way. Every time it was ‘no no no’, but the more you asked the harder time he had denying you. He hated denying you anything. You quite literally had him wrapped around your finger. Maybe even more so than his dear Elizabeth once had. 

So on his very own birthday, Devil’s night, he finally caved and said yes.

————————————————————————

“Really?” Your eyes were wide as saucers as you looked him over to see if he was just messing with you, but of course James wasn’t one to mess around. 

“Yes dear. You have been quite persistent with your asking, so I’ve realized how much it would mean to you. You may have your way with me.” He said with ease, nose curling a bit in that adorable way it did when he said certain words. as he spoke when his accent got heaviest. He’d had a few drinks but was still sober enough to know he was in for a longgg night. 

“Well then James, we should start as soon as possible!” You said excitedly. Like a child who was just told they could have dessert before dinner. This was exhilarating. 

“You stay here and undress. Lay on the bed and don’t touch yourself.” You gave your first order of the night. Something flashed behind James' undead eyes. A spark. Excitement or nervousness? Both? You hoped to soon find out.

You raced out of the bedroom, going to find your box of toys that you kept well hidden from James under one of the many cabinets in his suite. You grinned when you found it, rummaging through its contents before pulling out your strap on. The one you had been waiting months to use on your lover. The one you had bought with the specific purpose of wrecking James with. 

You grabbed the bottle of lube next to it as well as a vibrator. You may just use that on him as well. He’d never used toys before because they weren’t exactly a thing when he was alive. At least not the ones around today. And why would he put something so foreign and unpredictable near his cock? He much preferred your hand. Or, excuse his language,  your pussy. 

You had your arms full as you made your way back to James, seeing him laid out on the bed, fully naked. He had done just as you requested. His cock was half hard as it rested on his lower stomach, hands at his sides as he glanced at you, showing a bit of disinterest as he saw the items you had brought back with you. He had such an ease about him, just laying there, completely bare and seeming completely content with it. 

“What are you planning on doing with those?” He asked, blinking slowly as he examined the items in your arms.

“Going to fuck you, James.”

Such language caused him to cringe slightly, shaking his head as he sat up a bit in the bed. He almost looked nervous, but was obviously trying not to show it. He’d never been touched there before. Never even dared to explore his body fully while all alone in his room all these years. A man like him didn’t do that, but you were here to teach him that he could. And that it would feel good. That he could let his guard down. Just enjoy himself.

You laid the items at the end of the bed and crawled up next to him, gently running your hands down his scarred, muscled chest. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring as he glanced at you apprehensively.

“You are not going to do such things- I ref-“ you cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips, causing his glare to harden. If looks could kill…

“You said I could have my way with you, James. This is what I plan to do. I’ll be gentle, promise.” 

“I don’t need you to be gentle-“

“And we need a safe word. Yeah? In case you want to stop at any time. Give me a word.”

“Stop. Stop will be my word.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “We need something more unique than that, James. Please just humor me?”

He grumbled under his breath before responding. 

“Fine, if we must, my word can be… gun.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course out of all the words in the English language and beyond, he chose gun. Even now his mind couldn’t help but wander to those dangerous, murderous thoughts.

You carefully let your hands trail lower down his body before gently wrapping one around his half hard cock. He sighed softly, body finally relaxing a bit as he looked up at you, eyes dark. 

“Ahhh Darling-“ he grunted, shifting a bit as his cock began to harden fully. You swept your thumb across the tip, spreading the pre-cum that collected there.

“Mmm, take it into your mouth, my love. Choke on me.” You could tell his dominant side was beginning to come out the longer this dragged on, and you needed to cut it out now before he just flipped you over and fucked you into the mattress.

You squeezed his cock in your hand, causing him to grimace, glaring up at you. How dare you not listen to his orders?

“Not so fast, James. I want it my way. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not tonight. You can have your fun another day”

Carefully you began to stroke him once more, tracing your pointer finger over the prominent vein on the side of his cock. His tip was red and leaking, practically throbbing in your hand. As much as he’d hate to admit it, your touch always felt like heaven. If there was a heaven, he thought, it was found in your touch. You knew exactly how to touch him. .

You heard what sounded like a quiet moan slip from his parted lips, glancing up to see a sheen of sweat covering his forehead and messing up his usually neat combed back hair. He looked sinful in the most angelic way possible. 

While you were stroking him with one hand, you let your other fall to his thigh, gently massaging it before daring to go lower. You were curious to see how he’d react to your touch, knowing that you had to stretch him out on your fingers first before you even dared show him the silicone cock. Your hand fell away and grabbed the small vibrator from the edge of the bed, holding it between your fingers before holding it up to show it to James.

His eyes widened a bit and he shifted uncomfortably, shaking his head “now wait just a moment- wait- I don’t even know what that thing is- it is not natural and I will not have you put it near m-“ He was cut off as you turned it on, placing it against his leaky cock head. The vibrations buzzed against his length, causing his body to jerk around a bit.

The feeling was foreign, but good god, he realized how pleasurable it felt. It was a whole new level of euphoria.

“O-oh- oh that’s actually- aghh- quite nice. I like it.” He whispered, hips flexing up, muscles clenched as he sighed, rolling his head around on the bed. 

“See? Told you so. It can feel so good James.” 

He grumbled under his breath, obviously a bit salty that you actually were right. He hated being proved wrong. 

You let the vibrator rest on the tip of his cock for a few moments before sliding it down the rest of his length, watching as he twitched, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tried not to show just how much he was enjoying this all. 

“See, sometimes new things can be fun.” You chuckled, shaking your head. Your beautiful, ever stubborn James March was laid out on his very own bedsheets, about to be ravaged by you. 

You pulled the vibrator away from his cock, much to his disapproval as he let out a quiet groan. You didn’t just want groans and grunts from him this time around though. You wanted full on moans, cries, whines and whimpers. And you planned to get exactly that.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes tracking your every movement, afraid if he looked away for even a moment, or dared to blink, you’d do something he wouldn’t agree with. But of course that’s not how it worked. You’d never pull any surprises on him. Not now. You were going to take your time getting him nice and open. You didn’t want to hurt him…Unless he asked for it, which he very well might. 

“Okay James we can do this a few different ways and I’ll give you the choice. You can either lay on your back with your legs propped up, or you can lay on your stomach and I can finger you open that way. Which would you rather?”

And of course he wanted to say he didn’t want either, but he knew that wasn’t a choice. So he sucked up his complaints and swallowed hard before answering “on my back works just fine, darling.”

That was all you needed before you were grabbing the bottle of lube and popping the cap open, pouring some of the clear, sticky oil onto your fingers. You warmed it up first before you glanced back at James, his eyes laser focused on your now oiled up fingers. He knew exactly what you were going to do with those.

“Darling we still have time to go back- I will gladly fuck you, we do not have to-“ 

You slapped his thigh, causing him to jolt. It was a warning. If he complained again maybe you wouldn’t go so easy on him. 

“A real man would shut up and take it, James. Are you a real man?”

He was absolutely seething, completely enraged and the thoughts of just pinning you to the bed and wrapping his hands around your neck until it broke flooded through his mind. 

He decided it was best to stay quiet as he sighed heavily, adjusting himself on the bed so his legs were propped at an angle which gave you plenty of room to do what you wanted to.

“Good boy, see? Not so hard is it?” You hummed as you brought the hand that wasn’t covered in lube to his face, cupping his cheek. It was as if against his own will he leaned into it. No matter how mad he was at you, your touch brought him utter bliss. 

You could tell he had grown distracted by your actions so you discreetly let your other hand wander to gently grip his ass, kneading the flesh in your palm. He tensed, looking up at the ceiling with a blank expression. There was some part of his mind that was stopping him from showing any satisfaction or even trying to enjoy this experience. You needed to find out why and get rid of it, otherwise this wouldn’t be a good experience for either of you.

“Look at you, such a strong, smart, cunning man. So busy all day long with your tedious planning. The maintenance of this beautiful hotel-“ his eyes flicked to yours, softening a bit. Ah yes, compliments, the way to his undead heart. 

“The most magnificent hotel made by the most magnificent man of any day and age,” you continued, easing him. Your hand still massaged the meat of his ass, but he didn’t seem to care as much as before, too focused on your words and compliments.

“You work so very hard, you deserve a break. Just relax, my love. I would never do anything I didn’t think you’d like. If you just let go, maybe you’ll find that you enjoy this.” You spoke, your hand finally, finally reaching his hole as you circled it gently with your pointer finger.

James hissed through his teeth but stayed still, taking your words into account. Perhaps you were right. He ought to give it a shot, right? And if he didn’t like it he wouldn’t have to do it again after tonight, surely? You always respected each other’s boundaries so this  couldn’t be any different.

He closed his eyes and tried his very best to relax his body, knowing it would be easier if he was relaxed. He’d been put through pain before, so surely this wouldn’t hurt much.. right?

He inhaled sharply as your finger breached his tight hole, carefully slipping in without much resistance thanks to the lube.

“There we go, being so nice for me, James.” You cooed, your free hand gently caressing the skin on his thigh. He was abnormally pale. He was a ghost, so of course he was, but even in life he was quite a pale man, his thighs even milkier than the skin on his arms and neck.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, the thick, deep cut across his neck moving along with it. He preferred to keep it covered at all times, but you had already told him that you wanted to see all of him, even the worst parts. So for you and only you, he let it be in view.

His hole seemed to suck your finger in, greedy for the foreign feeling. James on the other hand, wasn’t exactly having an awful time, but he had definitely had better experiences.

Still, you were determined to make him squirm and cry out your name, and with a gentle caress of his thigh with your free hand, you pressed another finger into him, feeling the resistance this time around. 

He inhaled deeply, but didn’t appear to be in any extreme discomfort. After all, he had killed himself by cutting his throat with a damn blade. What could be much worse than that? And he was dead, so he didn’t feel pain like the living did.

Still though, he tried to arch his hips away from the feeling, nose curled up as he glanced down at you. He remembered your words. You asking him to just sit back and enjoy, and he was at the very least trying.

“Darling I do not find enjoyment in this at all-“ he huffed out, just wanting to fuck you. He would definitely find enjoyment in that.

“I just need you to calm down, James. I’m trying-“ your fingers pushed deeper into him, curling up at an angle. 

“I’m trying to find your prostate, so just shut up for five seconds-“ you huffed out. Usually you wouldn’t be so mean, but you knew James could take it. In fact, he yearned for it.

His whole body froze as finally, finally you hit that spot inside of him, the first spark of pleasure burning inside him, clawing to be let out. It was unlike anything he ever felt, a much different feeling than stimulation to his cock. This felt deeper. Heavier. 

“Darling-“ was all he choked out, eyes wide as you hit the spot inside him again. Now that you found it, James was in for a hell of a ride. 

“There we go, baby. Found it.”

“W-what are you doing to me?” He asked, completely and utterly confused as to what you had done that made this suddenly feel so good.

“I found your prostate, feels good doesn’t it?” You chuckled, seeing as he was beginning to slowly fall apart at the seams. Little by little, you were going to fuck the entitlement out of this man if it killed you.

“It does feel quite… enjoyable.” He said, his words spoken slower than usual as he tried to keep his composure. 

You continued to pump your fingers in and out of him before adding a third and final one, watching as his face scrunched up at the fullness of three fingers up his ass.

“And you are positive that… that device will fit inside of me?” He asked, glancing at the strap on.

“Of course James. You fit inside me, don’t you? I picked a small dildo I promise, it’s not much thicker than my three fingers. Just a bit longer.” You assured as you stretched him out as well as you could before pulling your fingers out, a heavy huff leaving James’ lips.

There was a sense of relief he felt when you pulled your fingers out of him, but also a sense of loss. He felt.. empty. 

It wasn’t that way for long though. You had reached over to grab the strap, undressing yourself before clipping it around your waist, making sure it was secure. James swallowed hard, a warm heat spreading through him as he watched you. 

“My dear-“ 

“Quiet, James. Let me take care of you.”

You propped his legs up better, coming between them as you leaned on your knees, your hands keeping his thighs spread as you pressed the tip of the dildo to his hole before you got an idea. A way to shut him up for even a little bit.

James glanced at you with a look of confusion as you pulled away, your small hand stroking the fake cock.

“Come, James.” You called, and like a lost puppy, James sat up, coming close to you as his eyes looked at you questioningly. 

“What is it?” He asked, eyes unable to look away from the strap between your legs.

With a bit of force, you grabbed him by his raven hair and pushed him down so he was face to face with the silicone. 

“You talk too much James. Let’s shut you up for just a moment.” You grinned, running your fingers through his hair for a moment as you tapped the cock against his pretty red lips.

He almost pushed away from you. There was no way he was doing this. Absolutely not. But then, there you were, so beautiful and he was so hard, just ready for release. 

His lips parted for the head of the dildo and you slid it into his mouth, letting him adjust to the foreign feeling. He knew how to eat you out, and realistically knew what to do with a cock in his mouth, but it was still odd. 

He suckled on the head, closing his eyes as his hole clenched desperately, wanting more stimulation. This was the sweetest torture.

You began to gently thrust in and out of his mouth, not letting it go too deep. You wondered what would happen if you did, if the cut across his throat would interfere or hurt him in any way.

James seemed to understand what you were thinking, and he swallowed around the cock, pushing it deeper into his mouth. Your eyes were wide as it hit the back of his throat. He… he made a noise you hadn’t heard from him ever before. He mewled. The pressure against the cut across his throat brought both pain and pleasure to him. 

You on the other hand quickly pulled it from his mouth, figuring it had hurt him. His lips chased the length before he paused, looking up at you. 

“Why did you stop?” His voice was a bit hoarse as he spoke, his usually thick accent faded just a bit.

“I- I thought I hurt you-“ his eyes flickered dangerously at your words as he smirked 

“Darling, I like being hurt.” Was all he said. You pounced on him, pulling him into a searing kiss before positioning him just how you wanted, manhandling him as you pleased.

He was on all fours, facing the headboard as you positioned yourself behind him, lining the cock up with his hole. You reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube, squirting some onto the strap. For good measure.

You ever so slowly thrust into him, causing a broken groan to fall from his lips as he instantly pushed back into the feeling, causing the cock to slide even deeper inside him.

You figured he might like this, that’s why you asked all these months. What you hadn’t expected was for him to like it as much as he did.

He threw his head back, hair an absolute mess, sweat dripping from his forehead as he panted. 

“More-“ be begged, glancing over his shoulder at you. For the first time since you’d been with James, you were finally able to see the side of him you’d longed to see. He looked so free, whatever memories of his past left him as he just enjoyed the pleasure he was being given.

You traced the scars littered across his back as you fucked into him gently, still not wanting to be too rough with him. He’d had a hard life, and even though he’d done atrocious things, part of you had to think it was how he was raised. Nature versus nurture. A mix of both that had left him the way he was. But he was still yours, and you were going to show him just how much you loved him.

You began to pick up your pace, James groaning impatiently as he arched his back, muscles taught, the curve of his back like a sculpture painted by the most talented sculptor.

“Faster darling, I assure you I won’t break.” He whispered, head falling between his shoulders as he gripped onto the bed harder, fully intending and wanting you to fuck him as hard as you could.

And of course you did. You couldn’t deny James this, not now. Not ever. You gripped onto his shoulders and thrust into him, your skin slapping against his own from the force.

He cried out in pleasure, his accent just making his moans that much more intoxicating to listen to.

You quickly got a rhythm going, fucking into him hard and fast, the strap hitting his prostate with each thrust in. 

You saw the way his body trembled, the way his cock twitched. He was close. You knew his body like the back of your hand, and even in this new position, you still new.

You angled your thrusts to better hit his prostate, one of your hands reaching around to wrap around his cock.

His mouth fell open, eyes closed as he let out a deep chuckle. He was… laughing?

“Oh darling this is much better than I had expected- I am close love-“ he grunted, biting down on his bottom lip as his breathing picked up and for the first time, you heard James Patrick March beg.

“Please- please please darling I must cum-“ he begged, arching back against you as he cried out.

Maybe in the future you’d tease him. Leave him tied up and refuse him his release as you fucked him relentlessly. Not tonight though. You just wanted him to feel good.

You kept your thrusts even, stroking his cock in time with your hard thrusts. And soon enough, James’ body went nearly rigid before you felt his warm release coat your hand, spilling across it and onto the bed.

His hole squeezed hard around the strap and you whispered words of praise to him as he came down from his high.

He was quiet for several moments as you gently pulled out of him, checking him over to make sure you hadn’t done any damage. 

Finally, he pulled you into a tender kiss. A much more meaningful kiss than the ones he usually gave. It was filled with his usual hunger, but also so much love. 

“That… was spectacular.” He said simply, shaking his head. You were right. Of course you had been right. If only he’d just listened to you sooner. Foolish man.

You held him against your chest as he spoke, mostly nonsense, plans he had among other things. You let him, running your hands across his scarred body, eternally grateful that he had chosen you. You stayed like that for a while, just listening to the rhythm of his undead heart. 

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: Mafia!Bucky is willing to do anything for you, but it comes at a cost. 

Bullet point overview for a story I haven’t written but want to.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Fem!Reader  CW: 18+ Mature language and themes including sexual themes, violence, choking, murder, knives, unhealthy romantic relationships, OC pregnancy, baby is upstairs during violent scene

You (Sugar) and Luanne have known each other since childhood, platonic soulmates that navigate all life’s hardships together 

This meant Luanne was by your side throughout the entirety of your relationship with the notorious Bucky Barnes

Giggling co-conspirately when the dark haired man kept randomly popping up in your life 

Helping pick out first date outfits 

Giving dick sucking tips when he mentioned how eager he was to see a pretty thing like you on your knees 

Going to the family events with you 

Spending late nights at the restaurant Bucky and all his most intimidating friends frequented

Calming your nerves when you decided it was finally time to go all the way 

Holding you as you cry in the club’s bathroom because Bucky just knocked the shit out of your ex and you’re scared 

Giving you a place to stay when you found his stash of guns 

And his stash of drugs

And when you found clothes covered in blood- 

“Baby…” She’d tried to reason “I know, Lu, I know, but God help me I just- I just love him so much.” 

“That isn’t enough of a reason to stay.”

And you didn’t, because you trusted her with your life, and because you knew she was right 

She helped you leave

More than leave she helped you run, because that was going to be your only way out 

Bucky would convince you to stay, Bucky always convinced you to stay 

Lu ran with you of course; you’d start over together

And you had for the most part, though that didn’t mean you forgot Bucky, tempted so many times just to call him and hear his voice 

He’d left only a single message. That, despite sounding rather threatening, you clung to like a comfort 

“This is your one chance, Sugar, because I love you, but if you come back don’t expect to ever leave again.” 

You didn’t call

But you made it, You and Lu together

Then she met John 

Then she’d gotten pregnant 

Then John had lost his goddamn mind 

You’d ran again, together, this time for Lu, Lu and baby Ezra 

But unlike Bucky John hadn’t backed down 

Any memory of that night you have plays like an out of body experience between long stretches of darkness 

John had stormed in, screaming

Ranting, raving

Threatening 

He’d pinned Lu to the counter, his hand on her neck and Ezra was wailing from his crib upstairs 

Then nothing

Then blood

So, so much blood 

You’d carried the pocket knife since you were eighteen, a token of safety 

You didn’t think it could do so much damage 

-that you could do so much damage 

John’s breaths had turned labored, chest barely rising and falling 

Pale, he was incredibly pale 

“Lu, go check on Ezra.” 

He’d probably make it, John, if you called the ambulance soon 

You grabbed your phone 

His voice was just as gravelly as you remembered- dark sinful promise, power

“No second chances, Sugar.” 

“I know. I need you.” 

Bucky wasted no time in getting to you, in cleaning up your mess, in finishing the job. His dark calculating eyes stayed trained on you, no doubt looking for signs of distress. You were in distress, but you knew what came next would be worse- 

“Lu, I’m leaving.” 

She didn’t understand, of course she didn’t. But you’d known the deal when you called Bucky;  “This is your one chance, Sugar, because I love you but if you come back don’t expect to ever leave again.” 

Lu was free and you, you were his. 

Alternatively: You loved Lu, your best friend, your platonic soulmate. You’d kill for her, give your life for her, but sometimes giving your life doesn’t mean dying- it means sacrificing your freedom.

[thewritingmagician2022]

Hi! For Valentine’s Day coming up I was wondering if you could do the demon bros (Satan specifically but whatever you feel like) proposing to MC? (Thank you so much <3)

So it’s mid-summer, two years later give or take. That’s the perfect time to do a Valentine’s Day prompt, right? Genuinely, I am sorry. I’ve explained before that health issues took over my life. There are times when I’m so chronically fatigued I can barely read let alone write anything. I already know this probably won’t be as great as you were hoping for (if you even end up seeing this) but I hope it’s still something to make you smile!

Lucifer: Of course Lucifer is going to go all out for his proposal - do you think he would ever offer you anything but the best? It’ll be a formal affair at a restaurant where he booked a private room for you both with a bottle of some of the best wine (or nonalcoholic drink) available and a custom gourmet menu fitted distinctly to your tastes. There will be ambient lighting and live music playing and you’ll both be dressed up to the nines. I think he’d be the kind of man who chose a classic day to propose, like an anniversary of some sort. One that’s important enough to warrant celebration and keep you from getting too suspicious of the grandiosity but also one that’s innocuous enough that you don’t assume a proposal will follow.

Everything will be going smoothly and Lucifer has just begun his meticulously written (and rewritten several times over) speech when his brothers burst into the restaurant, causing absolute chaos. The food is being eaten, the wine drank, the music is interrupted, and his brothers are all arguing and yelling for your attention. He genuinely considers killing them for ruining what’s supposed to be a special occasion but he sees you smiling at them so fondly, rather getting upset like any normal person would, and so he completely drops his speech and asks you if you’d spend forever with him, dealing with his idiot brothers and helping him clean up their messes. Of course you agree because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than by his side at the head of this perfectly imperfect little family you’ve found.

Mammon: Mammon is not the most romantic of his brothers, if we’re being honest. He’s not very good at planning things out - he doesn’t have the attention span for it or the consideration it takes. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you as much as they do; on the contrary, one could argue he loves you far more than the others could ever dream of. Mammon doesn’t need a big fancy moment, certainly nothing like Lucifer planned, to propose to you. He doesn’t even have to think about doing it. One minute he’s sitting in his baby with you, riding on the coast, watching the grin on your face and your sparkling eyes and the way your hair blows in the strong wind from the speeding convertible, and the next he’s asking you to do this with him forever. Just always stay by his side and he’ll be happy, and he’ll do anything and everything in his power to make you happy too. He doesn’t have a diamond ring or anything to give you but he offers up one of his signature rings (maybe on one of his chains if it doesn’t fit your hand). He’s giving you a piece of himself, a cherished possession, showing you that this avatar of greed doesn’t need anything else but you. For you, he can be good and generous, and he promises to spend the rest of your lives together showing up for you as the best demon he can be. He wants to be your first demon and your last, if you’ll have him.

Levi: Levi is so so nervous about proposing. Every day he feels blessed by the base gods that you’ve given him a chance to date you; asking you to marry him feels like he’s pushing his luck. But he loves you so much and you’ve both grown so much together that he feels ready to take that step. He doesn’t just wanna be your simp boyfriend anymore, he wants to be your simp husband, and so he sets about coming up with a proposal that suits the both you more than anything traditionally romantic.

It takes him literally months to create the perfect set up. He develops a cute co-op video game not unlike StarDew Valley where you guys can build your little lives together. You design your home and get jobs and get pets; it’s all so charming and cozy and, as always, you guys agree on just about everything because you’re more than lovers, you’re best friends. At the end of the game, Levi’s character proposes to yours with a cute little speech about how he wants you to be his player 2 for the rest of your lives, both here and in real life. He tells you how much your love has inspired him and helped him grow and how he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life leveling up with you as you go on adventures together and make your way through the most dangerous game in the world - life.

Satan: Satan is a diehard romantic underneath that intellectual, rage filled exterior. He’s read all the books and seen all the movies; he’s constantly coming up with bigger and better ways to propose to you. He wants it to be a memorable occasion and something worthy of you, which is a hard feat because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened in this damned place.

He eventually settles on creating an interactive experience. It’ll be a scavenger hunt/mystery sort of game where he involves all his brothers and the other characters to take you on your quest around the Devildom. You’ll visit all of your most meaningful spots, get little mementos from important moments in your relationship, receive little love notes from him filled with your favorite quotes from your favorite books. When you find Satan at the end of the journey, where he’s already kneeling with the loveliest ring pulled out, he thanks you for showing him that he was capable of such warmth and kindness and love. He talks about how he never understood romance or love until he met you, and now it’s his favorite genre. You are everything he could have ever dreamed of, better than any character he’s ever read about, and he never wants to let you do. Then he’ll ask you to continue writing this love story with him and give it a happily ever after ending.

Asmo: Asmo would probably expect to be proposed to honestly, rather than doing the proposing. He’s used to being chased and wooed but, just for you, he’ll take the lead. He just has to do this for his honey; it’s the very least they deserve. Asmo knows he’s simply divine and you are a very lucky human but he also knows how much you have to deal with when being with him so he decides to use this opportunity to make you feel as special and loved as you truly are.

He’s going to take you to the spa and all of your favorite places to buy you whatever you glance at for more than a minute and whatever food you want. He will be the one waiting on you hand and foot for once. He wants you to understand that he’s willing to put in the effort and dedication for you; he’s willing to commit to you and be this giving, steady presence forever, not just a fun boyfriend for now. It’s easy to show someone you want them but it’s much harder to show them that you need them and love them and respect them; however, Asmo is going to spend the entire day trying to achieve just that. By the end of your lovely dinner, he’s pulling out the biggest and nicest engagement rings ever seen (yes, one for each of you obviously and of course they’re a matching set) and asking you to love him forever.

Beel: Sweet, sweet Beel tries so hard to be romantic for his proposal. He knows really early on that he wants to marry you (he’s a male wife, okay?) but he can’t think of anything good! Nothing feels like it’s good enough for you or shows how much he loves you. So he goes to his brothers for help and they help him come with the tried and true proposal over a nice dinner with the ring in your dessert - it being related to food just really fits in with Beel - and they know how much you love your Devildom sweets.

The night is going so well. The dinner is delicious and you two are laughing the whole time and you definitely have no idea what’s coming. Beel is so excited by the surprise that he’s actually not even eating as much as normal which you’ve noticed. By the time dessert comes, Beel is running on adrenaline. He’s excited, he’s nervous, he’s starving. His half out of his mind by the time the desserts come and he’s scarfing down the parfait as quickly as possible and watching for your reaction when you find the ring. Except…you don’t. You finish your entire parfait without anything in your way and Beel has to call over the waiter to none too subtly ask what happened to your ring. It quickly becomes apparent that the desserts had been mixed up and Beel, in his haste to get through dessert, never noticed the ring in his meaning that it’s currently in his stomach right now. At this point Beel has no choice but to tell you what happened and he’s so embarrassed but you’re laughing in the nicest way and telling him you love him and you can’t wait to marry him once you get that ring. You do ask him to make sure it’s professionally cleaned though.

Belphie: For someone who is so lazy, Belphie really puts a lot of thought into proposing to you. Belphie never thought he’d be getting married, let alone to a human, but now that he has you, he wants to keep you forever. Sometimes it’s a tempting thought to just lock you in the attic where you can’t leave but he knows a proposal would be much more effective and much less traumatic, which is something he’s trying to work on for you. Autonomy and safety are non negotiable, apparently.

With that being said, Belphie isn’t going to go all out like Lucifer or Satan. He plans a romantic little planetarium date, not quite unlike your usual ones, though the blankets and pillows are even nicer than normal and there’s extra dessert and your favorite food for dinner. You just think he’s doing something nice for you, likely because he’s done something not so nice that you haven’t found out about yet. As Belphie is laying there in the dark with you, he points out a new constellation - one that he commissioned and bought so it’ll be listed in actual books now. It’s a triad of stars - the two twins and then a connected third star that turns the shape into a heart - that’s you he says. The missing puzzle piece, the only person who could ever fill that void in his heart that he’s been carrying for so long. Then he’ll pull out a beautiful ring with a stone like starburst to match your constellation star and he asks you to marry him - you fate is literally written in the stars now - the two of you bound together forever.

[peaches2217]

🥰 Saying 'I love you' without saying it (Brotherly Mario and Luigi moment!)

YEEEEEEEEEEES! BROTHERLY LOVE LET'S GO!

Freak

AO3 link!

~~~

Somewhere in Brooklyn, sometime ago...

Mario was a mess.

He held his head high, and the spark behind his one good eye told Luigi he considered himself victorious, but he hadn't come out of that fight cleanly in the slightest. His knuckles were split open in three places. His shirt was torn and the collar was stretched beyond what a good washing could save. Thankfully, all of his teeth were accounted for, but he still spit blood every few minutes thanks to a split lip and what was probably a nasty bite to the inside of his cheek.

The further he tended to those wounds, the more Luigi panicked.

"Oh man. Mom's gonna freak." He wiped his brother’s bloodied hands clean as gently as possible; Mario was careful not to show any signs of pain, but he couldn’t hide the trembling in his hands. “Wh— what are we gonna tell her?”

Mario didn’t answer right away. He kept his jaw tightly clenched until Luigi decided his skin was clean enough, easing up only when the younger twin reached for the bandages he’d purchased in haste from the nearest convenience store.

“We’ll tell her the truth,” he said. “Some low-life decided to pick on the wrong guy and I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.”

He clenched his jaw again as Luigi went back to work, wrapping broken skin in cheap gauze. He wouldn’t have much use of his hands until their mother could patch him up more expertly, but that was okay for now, he decided.

With any luck, she wouldn’t pry. All she’d care about was lecturing him — Mario, mio figlio irascibile, use your words, not your fists! — and then grounding him for the next month or two. That would be ideal. She didn’t need to know the reasoning behind his latest (and, to date, most violent) scuffle. He wasn’t ready for her to know.

Staring down at Mario’s hands, comically stiff from an overabundance of wrappings, Luigi felt a telltale stinging behind his eyes. “You fight for the dumbest things sometimes.”

“I don’t think someone spreading rumors about you is a dumb thing to fight about.”

The stinging became uncomfortably pronounced. Luigi bit his lip and fished through the plastic bag by his side once more, grabbing the water bottle hidden beneath rubbing alcohol and ointment and bloodied tissues.

“...It’s not just a rumor, is it?”

Luigi’s breath hitched. It had been phrased as a question, yet Mario’s voice lacked curiosity or incredulity, laced with a strong but not harsh I knew it sort of tone. Suddenly he didn’t have the nerve to look at him. He simply handed the bottle over to him and wiped the condensation off on his shorts, doing his best not to give into the desire to curl up into a ball and roll away.

It was his own fault. Like many other pre-teens, Luigi had a diary. Most of what he wrote within its pages was common knowledge, or just his own attempts at working through his thoughts. Most of what was inside, Mario already knew. The one secret he kept from his twin brother was tucked into its faux-leather covers. He’d stupidly believed it would be safe there.

An hour after realizing it was missing from his school bag, that secret was plastered on the library bulletin. By lunchtime it was on everyone’s lips: Oh my God, that Luigi kid’s gay! Always knew there was something wrong with him.

And three minutes after the final bell, the one who outed him was pinned to the ground in the courtyard receiving the beating of a lifetime. Had Luigi not found the strength to pry him off, he was almost convinced Mario would have killed the guy.

“You’re a freak!” the battered bully had shouted at Mario, Luigi’s diary splayed open and speckled with blood beside him. “Just like that— that fucking queer you call a brother!”

Mario was hurt, and he was going to be in massive trouble, and it was all Luigi’s fault. All because he was too chicken to keep it internalized, all because he was the weakling that always needed his brother, all because he was a fucking queer and any and every other derogatory accusation that had been thrown his way today. He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly and focused all of his energy on not crying, not here, not now.

“Weegee… why didn’t you tell me?” Mario’s voice was oddly soft. Was he upset? Was he sympathetic? He had no reason to be sympathetic. Luigi sniffed.

“Guess I didn’t want you thinking I was a freak, too,” he confessed. Mario and Luigi against the big, wide world. It had always been that way. He couldn’t stomach the thought of that changing, of Mario seeing him differently, of losing him for it. He would have kept this under wraps his whole life if it ensured that never came to pass.

An arm wrapped around him suddenly, and Mario pulled him in, jostling him almost painfully.

“Oh, give me a break, Lu,” he said. “You know who’s a real freak? Mrs. Loriey. She’s got a whole shrine set up to Robert De Niro in her supply closet! Photoshops herself into pictures with him! She’s probably shopped his face onto pictures of naked guys, let’s be real.”

“Mario!” The thought was shocking yet plausible enough that Luigi couldn’t help but laugh. Mario made a victorious noise and jostled him again.

“Or literally anyone who gets a kick out of putting other people down,” he continued, his voice getting lower as he spoke. “You know how desperate for attention people like that have to be? Imagine always thinking ‘How can I ruin some schmuck’s day so I can feel all high ‘n’ mighty?’ People like that aren’t just freaks, they’re losers, plain and simple.”

Luigi nodded, and though the first of his tears began escaping, his smile stayed strong. “So you don’t… think I’m a freak?” He chanced a glance sideways, where he found Mario smiling at him. The skin around his black eye was pale and wet where he’d held the water bottle to it and his split lip made his smile look awkward and crooked, but he knew well enough that it was genuine.

“Nah. But you know what you are?” he asked, squeezing Luigi’s shoulder. “You’re my bro. And I’ll always have your back, okay?”

He reached his other arm around to pull Luigi into a proper hug, and Luigi returned it without hesitation, sniffling and willing his tears to slow.

It had always been them against the world, and that wasn’t changing anytime soon. As far as bad days went, he decided that this one wasn’t so bad after all.

[corpsebasil]

How do you think knight!nikolai would deal with someone flirting with reader? Bcs like I think he'd want to be very possessive but at the same time he doesn't want to cause rumors that will ruin you so he ends up just being a fuming mess in the background and probably make an excuse for you or the guy to leave

On the reader's end though it would be hard to do anything at all if someone flirts with nikolai though because there's literally no reason to care that much about his love life unless you're jealous

gnawing at the bars.

this would most likely happen before you got together (in secret, duh) because now that he knows you’re his there’s no reason for jealously on either of your parts.

but.

lets say a prince from another kingdom was visiting in hopes of winning you over. you were the future queen, obviously, so you’d need a king consort. and this prince is actually super good looking, even if you’ve had your eye on your guard for a little over a year now. but that was impossible and you knew Sir Nikolai would never he would go for you or break his oath so you gave the prince a shot.

and you actually got along with him! not romantically of course—too soon—but he was funny. and kind. and those two facts are what royally pissed Nikolai off the most. because the prince was kind of HARD to hate.

unfortunately in forbidden love, sometimes both options are good options. Not every guy that isn’t the main love interest is the devil.

so he’d simply fume in the background of your little dates, your strolls and trips to town, your dinners and even—ONE TIME—during the moment the prince casually reached out to tuck a strand of hand behind your ear.

OOOOOOOH. Nikolai was so mad he wanted to chop that guy’s hand off and feed it to the wolves and then dismember him and then have him drawn and quartered and then put oil and feathers on him and dump him in the river politely ask him not to touch his princess without her permission.

It didn’t work out with the prince. For reasons you still don’t know to this day he’d left abruptly one morning after an extremely rushed and awkward goodbye.

cough. sir nikolai’s fault. his fault.

you on the other hand also couldn’t do anything about jealousy. because the closer your guard and you grew, the more you wANTED him. And there was absolutely nothing to be done about it.

You were a bit more direct about your feelings, though.

you found yourself making snide comments about girls that openly flirted in front of you. you had once, when a maid stopped him in the hall to ask him something, been enraged when she placed a hand on his bicep. why do you need to touch him??? cant you see he’s uncomfortable???

he’d given you a quick glance, his typically stoic and blank expression suddenly pinching with slight confusion, and you schooled your features into neutrality. you realized you’d been openly glaring and if looks could kill, well.

“Miss.” You said sweetly, and she looked at you in surprise. you typically didn’t speak to the maids unless you needed something. “Please do me the favor of unhanding Sir Nikolai. Don’t you know it is improper to grope a knight?”

the maid’s face had gone red so quickly you would’ve thought you’d called her a thousand foul words, but maybe those were all written in your face. she mumbled a mortified apology and scurried off. when you crossed your arms, watching her go with an annoyed look, you heard a subtle cough. when you looked at Sir Nikolai he was smirking, but only a bit. his eyes though—filled with amusement.

“What?” You snapped, still annoyed, and he outright grinned. Your heart skipped a beat at that—gods he was gorgeous when he smiled fully at you.

“You’re—” he shook his head. the word he was thinking of was adorable. “—quite spirited this morning.”

“I am not.”

“She was hardly groping me.”

“I am the princess! If I say she was groping you then she was!”

“How kind of you—“

“Hold your tongue, Sir. I can have you punished for getting attitude with me.” You huffed and actually almost stamped your slippered foot.

but he still kept a smile on his face, amused with you, and you couldn’t fight the blush that rose when his eyes lingered. he didn’t say anything else—he didn’t need to.

you knew that he knew you were jealous.

[cookie-nom-nom]

[“But I’m not even human.” 

Miles shrugged. “Human is as human does.” He forced himself to reach out and touch her damp cheek. “Animals don’t weep, Nine.”

She jerked, as if from electric shock. “Animals don’t lie. Humans do. All the time.”

“Not all the time.”

“Prove it.” She tilted her head as she sat cross-legged, her pale gold eyes were suddenly burning. Speculative. 

“Uh, sure. How?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“Wot.”

“Take off your clothes and lay with me as humans do, men and women.” Her hand reached out to touch his throat. The pressing claws made little wells in his flesh.

“Urp?” choked Miles. His eyes felt wide as saucers. A little more pressure and those wells would spring out red fountains. I’m about to die. 

She stared into his face with a strange, frightening, bottomless hunger. Then, abruptly, she released him. He sprang up and cracked his head on the low ceiling and dropped back down, the stars in his eyes unrelated to love at first sight. Her lips wrinkled back on a fanged groan of despair. “Ugly,” she wailed, her clawed nails raked across her cheeks, leaving furrows. “Too ugly. Animal. You don’t think I’m human.” She seemed to swell with some destructive resolve. 

“No no no!” Gibbered Miles, lurching to his knees and grabbing her hands and pulling them down. “It’s not that, it’s just— how old are you, anyway?” 

“Sixteen.”]

——

Miles instantly recoiled, cracking his head on the ceiling again because those who didn’t learn history were doomed to repeat it, as Commodore Tung was fond of reminding him. Immediately her eyes narrowed, a snarl creeping over her sharp teeth. “You don’t think I’m human enough,” she accused, voice still husky from disuse. “I knew it.” Her claws slipped back up to the scratches on her damp face, and he jolted forward, batting them down again in a reckless manner. 

“No, it’s not that,” Miles insisted, eyeing the way her claws were curling into fists about the same size as his entire face. “You’re a child! I can’t do that.”

“My life expectancy was barely a few years. The rest of the projects have been long dead.”

“Well, it’s still wrong in human years, which is the point. There’s plenty of other tests for humanity, anyways.” Sex was by no means the epitome of human existence. “What about Socrates? Human choice motivated by the desire for happiness? Or, oh, what was that test for AI centuries ago? The Tuning Test? That would work too.” He didn’t remember what it actually entailed. “There’s many tests. You yourself said only humans lie. By your own logic, lie, ergo, human. Human is as human does.” That’s what he’d meant it to be applied to, anyway. 

Her eyes narrowed. “None of those prove your belief to me. I still like my test.” Well, naturally. [Sixteen. God. He remembered sixteen. Sex obsessed and dying every minute.] 

[“Aren’t you a little young for this?” he tried hopefully.] She started a protest, but he continued. “It’s illegal. There. I applied human laws to you.” Probably a first for Jackson’s Hole. “I also just offered you a job, and regulations ban interrank romantic interactions.” No matter how much he might want to with one particular Eli Quinn...

The power dynamic was entirely wrong, between his age and rank and the fact he was beginning to suspect he was about to rescue this girl. Or, hell, look at it the other way, at the underlying threat that he must prove he believed her human or die. It was a messed up power imbalance from nearly every angle. 

A crumpled look crossed her wolfish features. Miles tried to console her. One for it being the Vorish, gentlemanly thing to do, and two because while he thought it unlikely she’d kill him at this point, he still didn’t want to increase his chances. “I’m probably the first nice face you’ve seen in a while. Don’t settle for me simply since I got here first. There are plenty of suitable partners once you get out of this basement. Which, reminder, we’re in a hostile environment surrounded by enemies. We still need to escape.” 

Moroseness slumped her features. “It’s impossible. I stopped trying years ago. And…” a shudder ran down her strong back, ears flattening. “...they don’t like it when you try,” she said lowly. “They wouldn’t do this to me if I was human.”

“Eh, actually they would. I mean, I’m human, and I’m down here, aren’t I? I’ve been deemed subhuman before. It hurts when they think it’d be a mercy to ‘put you out of your misery’.” He was going to strangle that scientist.

She gave him an odd look, scrutinizing him more thoroughly. “You don’t look like Jacksonian work. And you said you’re human. Why isn’t that enough for them?” 

Miles spread his hands wide, a wry expression crossing his features. “Ah, but I’m a mutant. A weakling. A curse from God upon my father’s house for every sin they can think to lay at his feet. They will find anything and everything they can to hold against you, Nine, no matter what it is that makes you different. Eight feet tall or four foot nine, unmatched strength or bones of glass; they will despise you either way. Well damn their notion of being born wrong because I intend to be ten times the man they ever could be.”

“Then it’s hopeless.” 

“If you want it to be handed to you, yes. You can’t rely on someone else to give you your humanity, because that implies they can revoke it at any time. It’s a value you have to find within yourself.” It sounded like some pithy Betan advice he would’ve picked up from his mother. “With your test, you wanted your body to feel human. But what about your soul, Nine?” He paused. “No, we need a name for you. I can’t be calling you a number like some type of lab rat.” Something strong and pretty, like her. He fell into that well of old earth philosophy he had initially fallen back on. Socrates, the Greeks, the like. When he finally found the name, it seemed perfect for the girl called a monster and trapped deep in the heart of a labyrinth of labs. Wasn’t Miles intended to be some blood sacrifice to her as well? And hadn’t the minotaur been a child when he was imprisoned for life? Punished for the crime of being born, just like them. “Taura,” he breathed. “I think I shall call you Taura.”

She went still, enraptured. “A name.” Tears welled in her golden eyes. “No one has ever given me a name.” 

“I’m not giving it to you. I’m letting you take it, to seize it, to make it your own. As much as I’d like to, I can’t give you your humanity either. That’s all up to you. Break free of every cruel moniker hurled at you. Monster, mutant– who cares what any of them think!? Prove them all wrong and never look back. That’s what I did. So here: I may reject your test, but I offer my own. I believe you’re ‘human enough’ because I believe you’re worthy of freedom, of a future, of a name. I certainly can’t give any of that to you, but I sure can help you try.” Something sparked in her gilded gaze, the tantalizing offer she’d likely never been given before. It was a hope doused quickly, but it had been there at all. Miles had a chance of relighting it, of fanning the flames. 

“You really think so?” Uncertain, her fangs twisted into a guarded frown. 

Miles batted aside a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t just because she was his only shot of escape, and it certainly wasn’t for a particular scientist whose neck he wanted to wring. This was because Taura didn’t deserve to be trapped in a basement eating rats for the rest of her tenuous life. He might have needed her, but she needed him, too, if only for a little while. 

“I don’t make offers I don’t intend to provide. So, care to escape with me?” He held out an arm, almost ridiculously formal, and she took it, choosing to trust him if only hesitantly, if only for that little spark of hope still in here somewhere.

[steppingstonesuniverseguide]

One More Step Out of the Pit: Chapter 7/26

Summary: It had been Tommy and Tubbo for practically forever. They clawed their way out of hell together. They discovered their superpowers together. They started working for the Superhero Guild together before even coming of age. Tommy probably owed Tubbo his life ten times over. So, when the three supervillains he'd been assigned to bring in managed to take Tubbo hostage, well, there was really only one thing to do.

He knew, of course, he was signing himself up for torture and death by offering that trade, but that was okay.

It'd have to be okay.

AO3 Link (See AO3 for Warnings.)

(This story is finished and has been posted on AO3 for a while, but I'm posting it on Tumblr so it's somewhere else too (considering the day AO3 was down a bit ago). The author notes will all be kept as well. If you are following the blog and don't want to see these posts, block the tag #backlog.)

The door to the receiving room slammed shut behind Wilbur to Techno’s shock. What had just happened? Wilbur had seemed way too enthusiastic about having Tommy as a prisoner not 5 minutes ago. Enough so that Phil basically had Techno on babysitting duty. Yet then he’d up and left only on the first step of making sure hostages weren’t dangerous.

Well, Techno guessed he was the one doing this now. He turned back to the other occupant of the room who had been watching Wilbur’s sudden exodus with surprised eyes. He squinted at the newly revealed face. “What are you?” he asked. “12?”

His eyes snapped to Techno and he immediately bristled. “I’m 24,” he claimed with a rather ferocious glare considering the evidence that he’d recently snotted all over his own face still remained.

Now, Techno wasn’t particularly good at decerning ages, both in physical and mental development, but still… “I’m 24.”

Tommy seemed taken aback by this information. “You are?”

Techno folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah.”

“Dude, I thought you were, like, 40. The fuck?”

Techno shrugged. “I’ve heard that before,” he replied mildly.

“But then…” Tommy was frowning, and Techno saw his fingers move at his side as he mouthed some numbers. “That would mean you slaughtered the Carbon Squad at 12.”

Well, actually, he didn’t think he managed to get any of kills on the team of 6 heroes himself, though it was all kind of a blur. Most of the killing had definitely been Will though. He’d been… a bit righteously infuriated. Still, the technicalities didn’t matter. Techno had definitely killed more than that at a younger age on his own power and not. “They shouldn’t have kidnapped my friend,” he replied.

“But 12?” he asked. “Don’t get me wrong. I was also a badass at 12… 10 years ago, but Jesus man.”

Techno hummed noncommittally, mind starting to drift from the conversation to what he was supposed to be doing. He wasn’t usually the one to do this step. It was usually Phil and on occasion Will, but today they’d apparently both abandoned him to social interaction.

“Er, so,” Techno said. “I need to check you for weapons now.”

“Don’t have any.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to take your word on that.”

Tommy frowned at him. The space between his nose and mouth was a bit red, Technoblade noticed, and his lower lip was actually bleeding from where it looked like he’d chomped down on it. “Do you, uh, need a tissue?”

He reached up to touch his own face and grimaced at the mess there. “Uh, yeah, maybe,” he replied.

“I… don’t actually have one.” There was an awkward pause. “But, uh, I can find you something.” He quickly walked to the cabinet where they stored things for hostages to change into and pulled out a shirt. “Here,” he said handing it over. Tommy stared at it for a moment, but then shrugged and started mopping up his face with it. “I guess, er, I’m going to touch you now,” he said. God this was awkward. He tensed at basically every brush of Techno’s hand, flinching a couple of times and hiding his face in the t-shirt tissue. As promised, Techno didn’t find any weapons on him.

“You should probably stop biting your lip like that,” Techno said, noting a bit of fresh blood on his face after finishing.

“I do what I want,” he said.

“…Suit yourself.” He returned to the cabinet and grabbed another white t-shirt as well as a pair of light grey sweatpants. “Here,” he said, holding the outfit out. “Change.”

Tommy’s eyes shot to the fabric. He looked up at Techno, mouth set in a line. “No,” he said.

“No?” Techno asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I agreed to let you take me captive, not to cooperate once I got here,” Tommy said despite the fact that he had pretty much cooperated up until this point and he had absolutely no clear reason to choose this hill to die on. Almost as an afterthought he added, “Bitch.”

“You’re currently in a power neutralizing cuff locked in a room with me in a building you don’t know the location of,” Techno pointed out.

He just squared his jaw and glared haughtily.

“The way I see it, you have two options,” Techno told him, “and I’m being nice by letting you choose.”

“Yeah, and does one involve shanking a bitch,” he snarled with a ferocity that honestly impressed Techno on the inside. On the outside, he blankly stared at him until he saw a bit of the fire die in his eyes, consumed by nervousness.

Techno held up a finger and without comment on the empty threat, spoke. “One: you listen to me and change into this on your own power right now.” Another finger joined the first. “Two: I take you to the ground and put these clothes on you myself like you’re a misbehaving toddler.”

“I’d like to see you fucking try, asshole,” he snapped.

Techno watched him for a moment. “Is that your final answer?” he asked lightly shifting just slightly forward without actually taking a step to close the gap between them.

The threat seemed to actually register then, his eyes going a bit wide as he curled his arms around his middle protectively. Techno waited as he swallowed the pill that was his own helplessness, eyes flickering between fear, pain, and humiliation before hardening again. “Fine,” he bit out. “Hand me the stupid ugly ass clothes.”

Techno offered them and he practically ripped them out of his hands.

“Do I get privacy?” he snapped.

Techno nodded towards a curtain they’d set up for that purpose. “You can use that.”

“Thanks,” the boy said. Techno was pretty sure he added on a “motherfucker” there at the end, but he didn’t comment. He was doing as asked at least, so Techno wasn’t going to complain.

He leaned back against the wall near the door. His posture was casual, but it served the purpose of making sure Tommy wouldn’t find some way to slip out the only exit. He did tend to be very slippery.

Techno could see his feet and the bottom of his calves shifting around as he toed off his shoes. He waited… and waited… and waited until he started to get a bit impatient.

“Will you hurry it up?” he finally said.

The feet went still for a moment before the boy was spitting back at him. “It’s complicated to get off, alright.”

“It’s a supersuit,” Techno drawled. “Not a Victorian Era ball gown.”

“Just fuck off and give me a minute.”

“Fine,” Techno said. “60, 59…”

The boy cursed. “Bastard, you fucking bastard.” He did seem to be hurrying it up based on how his feet kind of pranced around behind the curtain, so Techno kept up his counting.

At 45 he heard fabric rip. “Did you just rip something?”

“I told you it’s hard to get off alone and now I’m on a time crunch apparently!”

“Do you need help?” Techno asked.

“No! Fuck off!”

“Suit yourself.” He either did not notice or did not appreciate the pun.

Techno did not continue counting, but Tommy still scurried out from behind the curtain rather quickly after that. Techno squinted at the person who stepped out into view. Techno had far overestimated the needed size for the t-shirt and sweats. He was tall, yes, but he was also a toothpick and the outfit hung off of him. If Techno had thought he’d looked young when he saw his face, it was nothing compared to how young he looked now while drowning in the white and grey outfit like he was an 8-year-old using his father’s shirt for a nightgown. Now, Techno knew he had to be at least 20 considering he couldn’t have signed up for The Guild until he was an adult, would have needed at least a year of training before being put on the field, and had been on active duty for at least a year, but he certainly didn’t look it.

“What’re you staring at Bitchblade?” he asked, voice cutting like a knife. Techno trailed his eyes up to his face. Somehow the deep bags under his eyes had gotten even deeper in the last few minutes and he looked paler, though maybe that was just due to the white shirt. Despite the sharpness of his words, it was obvious he was exhausted by this point. Now he was just putting on a show.

Techno removed himself for the wall. “C’mon,” he said gruffly, turning to open the door. He saw Tommy shift out of his peripheral, even taking a step closer. “Don’t,” he warned darkly. The figure froze at his tone. Techno reached back and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him forward. He came with a stumble and Techno lightened his touch a bit at the obviously very involuntary whimper that passed his lips, but otherwise chose to respect the kid enough not to mention it.

He guided him to the door that led to the main part of the underground compound and stopped. He pulled a piece of cloth out of his pocket. “I’m going to blindfold you now.”

The boy’s eyes shot to his, startled. “Why?” he asked, just a bit of panic coloring his tone.

“You’re a flight risk,” Techno explained. “If you do manage to escape, we don’t want to give you a head start knowing where you are in the compound.”

He looked at the blindfold and then at Techno. Techno sighed internally. This was going to be a fight, wasn’t it? “No.”

Techno’s grip tightened minutely on his shoulder and he flinched disproportionally hard in reaction. “Yes,” Techno said firmly.

He still did not seem like he was going to acquiesce, glaring at Techno defiantly.

“The other option is a bag over your head.”

Tommy’s hands fisted at his side, but then he looked down with a slight nod. Techno quickly wrapped the strip of fabric around his head and secured it with a knot. Only then did he type in the passcode to let them into the rest of the compound.

The holding cell was a bit of a walk for obvious reasons, and they didn’t really talk the entire way. About 1/3rd of the way there, Techno noticed the kid starting to shake as though cold despite the fact that the hallway didn’t seem particularly cool. What was… probably happening didn’t occur to him until he noticed the boy’s breath hitch just slightly about a minute later.

Oh god. He was crying. He was crying, wasn’t he? Or dying. Techno hoped it was actually that he was dying. He felt far more equipped for handing that. His breathing started to come a touch faster and he was clearly trying to keep it together, which made it worse because that meant it was real and not him trying to garner sympathy.

It felt like eons before they made it to the cell, Techno trying awkwardly to pretend like he didn’t know Tommy was crying under the blindfold. He swiftly typed in the cell password and led him inside the mostly white room.

“You can take the blindfold off,” he said. He pointedly ignored the red eyes that were revealed by him taking it off, in fact, he mostly avoided looking at him altogether. “So, uh,” Techno floundered for what to say. “This is where you’re staying, uh, bed,” he gestured to the bed as though the boy wouldn’t know what one looked like. “Chairs. If you need something there’s a button on the wall here you can press. Someone will usually be in the next room while you’re here, but even if we’re not, we’ll still get an alert. Er… there’s a faucet and paper cups over there. Don’t try to tear it off and use it as a weapon. We know to look for it, and it’ll just make everyone’s life more difficult. Uh, we’ll feed you. That’s… about it.”

Tommy looked around the mostly empty white room with skeptical eyes and then back towards Technoblade. “Where’s the supervillain creepy dungeon?”

“We don’t have one of those.”

His eyes trailed back to the room. “This feels more like a creepy evil doctor’s observation room,” he said studying the obvious two-way mirror on one wall. “When’s the dissection?”

That read like it was meant to be a joke, but Technoblade wasn’t sure how to respond with how he was wrapping his arms around his middle protectively. Tommy didn’t bother waiting for a response anyway, turning from Techno to go deeper into the room.

“Uh,” Techno said. “Button,” he reminded, pointing.

He fled the room then, but didn’t leave him quite yet. Instead, he walked a few feet to the door of the observation room. Tommy was already out of sight by the time he made it to the one-way mirror, but there was a lump still moving slightly under the covers of the bed.

Technoblade took out his phone and opened up his message history with Phil. ‘He looks 10. Wilbur fucked off saying he had a headache. Now he is hiding under the covers in the bed. He is probably crying. Help.’

Techno sent the message and looked at the now mostly still blob on the bed, very much hoping Phil was done with his phone call and would be here soon.

Author Note:

Technoblade: Father hlp. Big brother abandoned me and now there are feelings. Pls, Father.

I'm really excited about the next chapter! :D

...

(Me? Make most of the things in the room and Tommy's clothes white for dramatics? Nah. What would be dramatic spilled on white sheets and white clothes and a white floor...?)

[minisugakoobies]

Something | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, use of restraints, mention of choking, reference to previous sex, blood, allusions to murder, Yoongi is not a good guy here (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: His hand rises of its own accord, seeking the soft skin of your cheek. Craving one last gentle touch before…. “This could’ve been something, you know.” 

A/N: Another installment in the BadCop!AU! OC's about to find out what happens when you fuck with Yoongi's money. Spoiler alert: nothing good.

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 2 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist 💵 Part 4

“Please! You don’t have to do this.” 

Yoongi finishes binding your wrists to the back of the wooden chair, ignoring your pleas. Stupid. How could he be so fucking stupid?

He whips out his mobile phone from his silk pajama pants pocket and presses a button. A click and a voice. 

“Jimin. I’m going to need a cleanup. Yeah. At home.” 

He snaps the phone shut and sets it on his workbench. Thank god his daughter is sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight, so he can take care of this mess quickly. 

You try again. “Let’s just talk this out. No one needs to get hurt, okay?”

Ha. Too fucking late. 

Yoongi should’ve listened to his head when he met you. It told him you were too good to be true. But no, he’d listened to his dick. And then to his–

“Please. Yoongi.” Your voice is remarkably steady. Probably your training kicking in. The Bureau did a bang-up job with you, Yoongi thinks sullenly. “Listen to me. You can cut a deal. I want to help you. Trust me.” 

You screech as Yoongi suddenly spins in the cramped garage, tossing all the tools cluttering his workbench to the ground with one sweep of his arm. The metal instruments clang on the cement floor as you stare wide-eyed in fear. He sneers as he stalks towards you, bare chest heaving. 

“Trust you?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” He drops to his knees and grabs your ankles, yanking on the rope to tie them tighter to the chair. His face hovers above yours. A scorching fury radiates from him in waves, burning the words forming on your lips to ash. “I did trust you! And look what happened!”

Why had he kept that safe in the house? When he’d awoken to an empty bed, a horrible sinking feeling had stolen over him. He thought for a moment that it had happened again, that he’d been left behind once more. The sight of you in his study brought relief, but it was fleeting. 

As most good things in his life are.

“It was only a matter of time!” you shout, calm replaced by anger, leaning forward, nose bumping against his, making him recoil. “Someone was going to catch you eventually! Why not me? Why not someone who cares about you and Da-”

“Don’t,” he growls, nearly spitting in his rage. “Don’t you fucking say her name.” Everything he did was for his daughter. You could never understand. You didn’t deserve to understand. And you didn’t deserve to even speak her name anymore.

"If you kill me, that won't kill the investigation." Your voice is composed again, but your lip quivers as you speak.

Yoongi smirks, a cold smile that comes nowhere near reaching his eyes. "You just don't get it," he growls. "I run this fucking town. I'm the one with the money. I'm the one with the power. I just need to make you disappear. Then I'll pay a few people in the right places to make this investigation disappear, too."

He didn’t get to where he is without learning which palms to grease. Now that his biggest competition is out of the way, the money’s streaming in so steadily that he should have no problem getting out of this. If he can just do what he needs to do next. 

But he can’t stop thinking about earlier tonight. The expression on your face as he came apart inside you. The way you’d fallen asleep in his arms, sighing his name contentedly. Had any of it been real? Fuck, he’d been such an epic fool, to believe that he could be the king, and provide for Da-som, and maybe, maybe even find l-

He can’t let himself finish the thought, snarling as he reaches out and lays his long fingers around your throat like a heavy collar, thumbs slipping easily into the notch of your collarbones. Only mere hours ago you’d begged him to choke you as he fucked you towards oblivion. You’re trembling now, as you did then, but Yoongi knows it’s a different kind of anticipation. 

“Wait. Please.” He feels your breath catch under his fingertips. “Please.” 

“I can’t let them take her away from me,” he explains, heated glare meeting your frantic gaze, and you nod. 

“I know. But please… Yoongi… I can help you. It doesn’t have to end like this.” 

But it does. Because he knows that if he goes along with you, and turns himself in and strikes a deal, he’ll still lose Da-som. Even if they can stay together, once he confesses, she’ll know exactly who he is. What he is. And she’ll never look at him the same way again. 

He can’t lose her love. If he loses that, he’ll truly have nothing.

“No, I’m afraid it does.” His hand rises of its own accord, seeking the soft skin of your cheek. Craving one last gentle touch before…. “This could’ve been something, you know.” 

“I know,” you repeat softly, a sad echo, and before he loses his nerve, Yoongi kisses you. He tastes salt on your lips, feels a shudder pass through you, and he breaks away, lowering his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“So am I,” you reply, and he can’t stop himself from peering at you again, heart jolting at the regret he finds reflecting in your eyes. “For this.” 

CRACK

“You bitch!” Yoongi’s hands fly to his nose. Blood streams from his nostrils, veins cut by broken bone thanks to your headbutt. The pain is blinding, but his wrath moreso. With a mad howl, he lunges for you, but you merely crack him again, forehead to forehead. This time, he goes down. 

Inhaling desperately, you watch his prone body for a moment before you start to rock, working up some momentum before throwing yourself onto your back. The chair doesn’t smash completely as you’d hoped, but the back does break off enough for you to slip the rope under the rungs. Contorting your body, you manage to slide your constrained arms under your ass and then bend forward until your chest is pressed against your thighs. As soon as you can feel the rope around your ankles with your fingertips, you work the knot loose enough to slip your feet free.

Kicking the remnants of the chair away, you crawl towards Yoongi’s phone. Bound hands fumble through his contacts until you find the name you need. A click and a voice.

“Sir?” The voice is confused. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s not Yoongi. It’s me.” 

Yoongi moans, stirring slightly, and you hold your breath until he stills again. 

“We need to move.”

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.  

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful

                            Brooklyn, 1970.

Bucky’s mornings were sacred.  He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.

But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window.  And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.

Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day.  Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.

He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.

“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly.  "I have to work in the morning and—”

“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone.  He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern.  “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”

“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology. 

He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid.  Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was.  A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?

This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that.  And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.

The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant.  When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”

He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.  

“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear.  “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that?  I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”

He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly.  His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.

“You remember me, don’t you?  You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’.  You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”

Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.

"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll.  I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier.  Is that what you want, sweetheart?  To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away.  “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”

Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them.  “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned.  “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt?  Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”

As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.

His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly.  He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.  

Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again.  The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.

“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”

He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.

“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace.  "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."

A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak.  But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.

You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.

"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women!  And you know what I love most?  Huh?"

He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.

"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you.  All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."

Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for.  Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled.  “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.

"Oh fuck, are you coming?  Shit," he moaned.  "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"

Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.

You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.

"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs.  "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh?  Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right.  Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."

From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.

"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby?  Wanna be my little slut?  Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"

You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“M’close, honey,” he breathed.  “I’m gonna come.”

He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real.  But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that.  He was elated to make your nightmares come true.

"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed.  “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are.  But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."

Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest.  Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.

"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously.  "You're not gonna scream are you?"

You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air.  "Please— come in me," you panted.

"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.

"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.

He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp.  "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."

To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”

One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible.  Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.

"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced.  They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them.  "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste.  Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah?  Wanna get knocked up?  You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"

At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley.  Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.

Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence.  It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.

"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”

He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.  

“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain.  "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"

He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body.  Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.

You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?

There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.

“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder.  Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt.  “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”

[omg-imatotalmess]

Speed Demon

Hey guys! So, our new anon, Peach anon, sent me an absolutely god-tier idea, and I got a little out of control thinking about it. Thank them for this messy little thing. Hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested: No but based on an ask

The ask: hi i found ur blog recently and i LOVE your work and wanted to shower u with love and affection <3 <3 <3 and maybe also... a headcanon?? anyways roadtrip with boys are so fun to imagine like i have this hc that draco is such a nervous wreck in cars and it translates into passenger driver ("careful, careful!! that semi is switching lanes!" "draco i am sIX CARS BEhiND IT") nfdjhgjs anyways imagine getting so fed up you just reach over (1/2 peach anon claiming peach right now its MINE :D )

(2/2) and start palming at his cock switching btwn just resting ur hand on him and making him try to fuck up into you fist he'd be grabbing the little handle above the door and finally shut up literally the second after you let him come though it's like four seconds of happy peaceful silence and then its "love, steady, you're speeding a bit" anyways ty for doing all that you do ilysm :)

Warnings: Smut, hand jobs, don't jerk someone off while you drive, mild cum eating, sub!draco, dom!reader, swearing(?)

---

The muted drone of the weatherman on the radio filled the near silence of the car. Draco didn't ever talk much when you drove. For a man that enjoyed taking road trips as much as he claimed to, he certainly didn't like being in the car. You didn't mind much, though. You were just happy to spend the time alone with him. Even if the only time he broke the silence was to yell about your driving, which, to be fair, was often enough.

"Slow down! Why are you so insistent upon getting us killed?" Draco snapped, digging his fingernails into the seat.

"Draco, my love, my sweet, I'm already going under the speed limit. Try to relax a little," you said. The huff from your passenger seat reminded you why everyone had insisted that you and Draco take your own car. No one else could put up with him. Especially not with the kind of amusement you could.

"I'll relax when you stop trying to kill us," he said. But, then again, even you had your limits.

"Do you want some help, love?" you asked.

"Help? What do you mean help?" Without looking at him, you lifted your hand from the wheel, resting it lightly on his thigh. You gave it a firm squeeze. Though he didn't say anything, you found yourself enjoying watching him squirm in your peripheral vision.

"You know, help," you said cheerfully.

"You're driving," he hissed.

"You don't seem to mind much," you teased, laying your hand over his slowly hardening cock.

"Watch the road!" he snapped as a truck switched lanes several cars ahead of you. Despite his command, he bucked his hips up, grinding into your palm with no shame. You smiled. Draco could be so stubborn when he wanted to be. No matter how badly he wanted this, he'd probably just keep complaining about your driving until he couldn't anymore.

"I am," you said.

"What if you-ah-get distracted?" he asked.

"I'm just letting you use my hand. Keep it down and you won't bother me," you laughed.

"But what if--oh," he cut himself off with a groan as you popped the button of his pants and snaked your hand underneath.

"Shhh, just enjoy yourself, baby boy," you soothed, grinding the heel of your hand gently against the head of his cock. The whiny moan that reverberated throughout the car made you strain to keep your eyes on the road. You would have loved to see the face he was making just then, but you told him you wouldn't get distracted. Instead, you settled for rubbing him teasingly just to make him squirm.

"(Y/N)," he groaned.

"Hmm?" you hummed.

"Please."

"Please, what? Tell me what you want," you said, glancing over your shoulder as you switched lanes.

"I want more," he muttered.

"I thought you wanted me to concentrate on the road," you teased. With a groan of frustration, he rolled his hips into your barely moving hand.

"(Y/N), take pity on me. I'm already in this screaming death trap," he whined. You laughed, giving him a rough squeeze through his underwear. A choked groan told you all you needed to know. All he wanted was attention. That was likely why he'd been complaining so much in the first place.

"Alright, alright. Take your cock out for me then, baby," you said.

After a second of shuffling, you felt him push himself into your waiting hand. It never took much to work him up, and you were grateful for it. You loved seeing him hot and leaking for you pretty much as soon as you started playing with him. Swiping your thumb over the slit, you smiled as the wetness there smeared with your touch. He bucked impatiently at the soft attention. It wasn't what he wanted. Pulling your hand away for a second, you spat into it before beginning to jack him at a torturous pace. It wasn't a substitute for lube, but Draco didn't seem to mind any.

A quick glance at your passenger told you that he was just enjoying the sensation. He could have been anywhere for all he seemed to care. It was almost like he'd forgotten about the car entirely. One pale hand gripped the seat under him while the other grabbed the handle over his head to steady him as he thrust into your hand. Like a man unhinged, he drove up into the tight circle of your fist practically unassisted. You doubt he really minded the lack of real lube.

"That's a good boy," you praised, switching back into the other lane. "I bet you feel so much better now that you have something to keep you busy."

"Yes! So much better!" he moaned.

"I know being my good boy always helps you relax," you said. The car in front of you swerved and cut off the guy in the other lane, who blared his horn. You slowed slightly, glaring at them.

"Always! Love being your good boy." Draco's voice was so earnest and sweet, all pitched up like that.

"And you are such a good boy, Draco," you said.

Little punched-out noises rippled through the car, overpowering the drone of the radio station you'd been listening to earlier. Honestly, you preferred them. Any sweet, pathetic little sound Draco made was infinitely more interesting than any news guy on the radio. Hips pounding into your hand, Draco tipped his head back against the headrest with the most desperate wine you'd heard in a while. You shivered, cutting your eyes away from the road to steal a glance at him in all his strung-out, desperate beauty.

And you weren't disappointed. His usually pale skin was flushed a bright pink, eyes lidded and more focused on you than anything else, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to quiet himself. A real thing of beauty. Your sweet, pretty boy Draco. Twisting your hand over the head of his cock, you relished in that fact for a moment.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'd be half tempted to pull over and fuck you properly in the back seat," you said.

"Please," Draco begged breathily, slamming his hips up erratically.

"Don't tempt me, baby boy. We're on a schedule," you said. Though, it really was a charming idea.

"(Y/N), please. I don't care about being late. Want you to fuck me," he whined.

"You say that now," you laughed.

"Please, I'll be so good," he whined.

"If you can cum from my hand now, Draco, I'll keep you so well fucked on a this trip you won't remember anything but me," you said, an alluring promise coloring your voice.

"Yes, yes! Want that! Wanna cum for you so much," he babbled. Arching his back against the seat, he drove his cock into your hand with renewed desperation.

"Are you close? You wanna a good boy and cum for me?" you purred. The car in front of you stopped short, but Draco didn't even seem to notice that you'd jerked to a stop. He just gripped the handle above him and whined for you.

"Wanna be a good boy. Please, I wanna cum," he cried. Looking over, you noticed the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. You smiled gently at him.

"Oh, Dray, you've been so good," you said. His mouth dropped open into a soft cry as his hips completely lost rhythm. "Go ahead, baby boy. Cum for me."

Draco's hips stuttered, once, twice, and by the third time, he was cumming all over your hand. His eyes screwed shut, and a pitchy cry of your name left his lips as he shook in your grasp. And you just worked him through it. Pumping him gently while he whimpered through the aftershocks. You didn't stop until his thighs shook so hard you could feel the car move. Then, finally, you pulled your hand away and lifted it to his mouth.

"Clean up your mess, baby boy," you said.

"Yes, (Y/N)," he said tiredly, sticking his tongue out. Pressing your fingers against it, you let him lick your hand clean of his own cum until you were satisfied. You two had started moving again by the time he finally came around enough to really talk to you.

"How do you feel, Dray?" you asked. He gave you a sleepy smile.

"Like you need to slow down. You're speeding," he said.

"I'm not speeding," you said. You were, in fact, speeding a little.

"Don't think that just because I just had the best orgasm of my life that I don't remember you drive like a demon," he said. Shaking your head, you laughed in disbelief.

"Only you could complain after having the best orgasm of your life," you sighed.

"I thought you loved that about me," he said. "You're still speeding."

"Maybe I should have pulled over," you said, rolling your eyes. Well, it had been nice while it lasted. And Draco was right. Kinda. You did love him, even if you wouldn't exactly say you loved his complaining.

[mercy-burning]

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh,  Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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[butwhyduh]

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

[messers-moony]

Cheating | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Klaus gives Five’s girlfriend a dare to see how he’ll react.

“ Are you sure this a good idea? “ Klaus queried as Y/n began applying makeup to her neck, “ What do you mean? “ Y/n asked in response as she looked in the mirror to stare at the male.

“ He’s an assassin, for Christ sakes! He’s going to literally kill me. “ Klaus retorted as if it were the most obvious thing ever, “ And so was I. “ Y/n beckoned, turning around.

Klaus sighed, “ I know that. I just don’t think this is a good idea. “ Klaus repeated, and Y/n crossed her arms, “ Well, it was your idea in the first place. “ Y/n informed.

“ I know. “ Klaus said defeated, “ Great! All you have to do is stay in our apartment. It’s not that bad. “ Y/n spoke as she began walking to the kitchen.

“ I suppose. What do you wanna do in the meantime? “ The male asked as Y/n grabbed snacks, “ Mario kart? “

Klaus grinned, “ Perfect! “

Y/n and Klaus sat on the couch playing the game for hours on end. Truth be told, Y/n was relatively fearful that Five would take this prank too far, considering how possessive he is with her.

Nonetheless, Y/n knew that if things got out of hand, she’d be able to stop him. Just a few days ago, Klaus thought of the brilliant idea to prank Five, saying how Y/n was ‘cheating’ on him.

Obviously, he didn’t expect Y/n actually to do it. It was a playful comment that held absolutely no meaning, but Y/n was determined to go through it. Honestly, she wanted to see what he’d do too.

The plan was Y/n would make a hickey on her neck with makeup. It was the most cliché way of going about it but definitely the most practical. Klaus would be in the bedroom, and when Y/n gave the signal, he’d enter the main room.

Hanging out with Klaus was definitely the most effective way of getting Five’s jealousy through the roof. He loved his girl with all of his heart and wanted no one to take her from him. This was the girl he planned to spend the rest of his life with.

Five initially hated this girl. She was cocky, sarcastic, and witty beyond belief. The girl worked at the commission and was assigned his partner, which they both despised, seeing as they were both independent.

However, since time works in weird ways, they both became fond of each other. She found herself catching feelings for him much before he did himself. It took months for them to become friends, let alone love interests, but it happened.

Now, Five couldn’t ever get enough of her. Being with Five was like endless cuddles, kisses, affection, and meaningful conversations. The communication between the two lovers was through the roof. No stone was ever left unturned.

“ Okay, Five just texted me saying he’s three minutes away. Go hide in the bedroom. “ Y/n rushed as Klaus jumped up from the couch, “ Yep! “ Klaus shouted from the bedroom.

Y/n began cleaning up the mess they left, and when Five entered the room, he discarded all unneeded items. Then he walked towards his loving girlfriend, washing dishes.

Five walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist gently. She’d be lying if it didn’t make her cheeks flush a brilliant pink color. The male nuzzled his nose into her shoulder.

“ I’m home, my love. “ Five’s muffled voice spoke as her shoulder covered his mouth, “ Nah, I couldn’t tell. “ Y/n retorted sarcastically.

The female placed the dishes in the sink and turned around his arms. Now they faced each other, both her hands cupping his cheeks as his green eyes stared into her e/c ones. Both were in a loved-filled daze, and Y/n completely forgot about the prank.

That is, until Five moved some hair from her neck, noticing the discolored skin, “ Love? “ Five slightly pouted, “ Mmm? “ Y/n hummed in response, unable to follow his eyes.

Suddenly his love-filled eyes turned more with an upset look, “ What's on your neck? “ Five asked curiously as he gently swiped his finger over the makeup, “ I- I don’t know what you’re on about. “ Y/n nervously stated.

“ I need to ask you a question, and you need to answer honestly. “ Five spoke with his voice as firm as possible, making Y/n nod and gulp in response, “ Are you cheating on me? “

Fives hands went from her waist to her cheeks, and hers fell to her side. Y/n let out a sigh, not locking eyes with his. Admittedly she was surprised with how calm he managed to stay during this whole situation.

He took her silence as a yes and let go of her. Without another word, he walked into the bedroom. This prank had failed because she wasn’t planning on him being so calm. But when he entered the bedroom to see a boxer wearing, that’s when his anger released.

“ What the fuck! “ Five yelled from the bedroom, “ Shit! “ Y/n cursed, running to the bedroom.

She found Five holding Klaus against the wall choking him, not killing him but making it painful.

“ Five! “ Y/n yelled, “ You won’t lay your hands on my girl ever again. Cause I swear to god if you do, I will kill you myself- “ Five spat as he ignored his girlfriend, yelling at him.

“ It was a prank! “ Y/n shouted, and Five immediately dropped Klaus, “ That got your attention. “ Y/n murmured.

Five looked at her, and through his anger-filled look, she could see his eyes filled with tears. He was trying so hard not to cry when sneering at Klaus, and she could see that now. Klaus scrambled up and left the room. He probably left the apartment too.

When Klaus left is when Five fell apart, “ This was all a prank? “ Five managed through gritted teeth, “ Mhm. “ Y/n hummed.

“ Prove it. “ Five demanded, and Y/n sighed.

The girl walked over to her vanity and grabbed a makeup wipe. She showed him the white towel and rubbed it over the makeup on her neck. Afterward, she handed him the towel, now covered in blue and purple makeup while her neck was its original color.

Gently Five lifted her jaw and moved the hair from that area to see it completely gone. To say he was relieved would be putting it lightly. The girl who he loved and planned to marry had just lifted every weight off his shoulders.

Without a second thought, he embraced her tightly, and she did the same, “ If you do that again, I will kill you. “ Five spoke, “ I won’t. “ Y/n responded.

“ Good because I love you too much. “

[noteguk]

hickeys | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a “bad influence” drabble

— summary; Jungkook gets a bit jealous. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, jealousy/possessiveness!!, kind of angry sex (it’s one-sided, jk is going through a Moment), unprotected sex, marking (hickeys, mentions of bruises), dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of oral (f rec) and of cum eating, jk has a big dick, the oc being clueless but overall having a good time 

— words; 2,2k 

— author’s note; this was supposed to be shorter but, well, that’s the story of my life. A few people asked for a bit of jealous!jk so here I am to deliver it 😌 Inspired by this ask I got. 

~ 

Jungkook hated the wintertime. He hated the fact that you no longer used skirts because of the cold weather, hated that you had to go away for a few weeks because of winter break and, above all, hated those stupid turtlenecks you wore. 

Not because you didn’t look good in them — in fact, he had grown to appreciate them over the weeks, the way they made your breasts pop out and how your body felt so comfortable and warm against his — but because it became extremely easy for you to cover up the hickeys he gave you. Which completely missed the point of even having hickeys in the first place. 

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” You asked him, fingers pulling slightly on the messy strings of his dark hair. Jungkook was hovering above you in bed, his mouth glued to the skin of your neck, sucking on the flesh. He simply moaned in response, hoping that the roll of his hips against yours would make you shut up. Which obviously didn’t happen. “You better not be doing it.” 

Jungkook pulled away from your skin with a pop!, watching the blossoming red that appeared close to your jaw. It would be hard to cover up that one. “And what if I am?” He smirked, placing a kiss against your lips. His cock was deep inside you, and it was incredibly difficult to argue with him when he was fucking you so well. Not that it would stop you from trying. “What are you going to do about it?” 

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, the frown on your face only making him smile wider. “You’re such a jerk, I’m going to spend all the concealer I have left with this one,” you complained, and Jungkook hummed and leaned back towards your neck, resuming his devilish ministrations. Only one hickey wouldn’t be enough, Jungkook realized, he wanted you to go out to buy more makeup for that. “What’s the deal with you today?” You tried again.

Jungkook’s irritated groan vibrated throughout your skin, his hands tightening around your hips as a flame of anger sparked inside his chest. His deal was that you had cancelled on him at least three times last week to go out with some stupid guy named Jimin from your Wednesday afternoon class. He knew that he shouldn’t care about it — you two were obviously not exclusive, barely even a thing, and you didn’t seem to give a single fuck when he told you about one of the girls that he was going out with. And yet there he was: pissed off out of his mind because someone else might have interest in you, fucking you hard into the mattress because he wanted you to remember that no one could be as good as he was. 

There was also a second layer of indignation when it came to that subject: Jungkook was frustrated with himself because he was balls deep inside your pussy and he couldn’t even focus on it without thinking about your stupid date. It was the fourth week of the semester, he hadn’t seen you for the entirety of winter break, and it was the first time that he was fucking you in your bed (since your roommate was out in some idiotic spiritual retreat). He could actually have you for as long as he wanted, as loud as he wanted, not a single worry about being interrupted. And how was he using that time? Being jealous of a guy he barely even knew, just because he took you out for coffee or whatever. 

It really wasn’t his best moment.  

“Jungkook, that’s so good,” you cried out, sucking him out of his thoughts. Jungkook grunted at the desperate tone of your voice, his name sounding so perfect coming from your mouth, and he just wanted to hear more of it. His cock was slipping in and out of you with ease, your wetness dripping down his length, and he forced himself to pay attention to you for the rest of the night. “I’m getting close.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook groaned and pressed his forehead against yours — he could tell that already from the way you were tightening so perfectly around him, hugging his cock like you were meant to take it. “You like when I fuck your pussy like this, baby?” 

“Y-Yeah, I love it.” You closed your eyes, back arching off the bed as he continued to drill his fat cock in and out of you. No matter how many times he gave it to you, you couldn’t get used to the incredible pressure of his girth against your walls, filling you up so perfectly. “Feels so good…” 

“Is this all for me baby?” Jungkook finished his sentence with a particularly hard slam of his hips against yours — you didn’t even need to ask him to fuck you rougher, he already knew that was what you wanted. His eyes were a deep dark storm, glued to your parted lips as you moaned out for him, your perfect little cunt pulsating around him. Jungkook could only think about how wonderful you felt, how he couldn’t find someone better even if he tried. “Is this pussy mine? Was it made for me?”

Jungkook was fucking you so well that you could not help but nod, a pathetic whimper tearing itself from your throat as your hands fumbled to hold onto the nape of his neck. Your nails scratched his skin, the sensation making him groan. 

“Yeah, it’s yours.” You said it because you knew that it was all pretend, all his weird possessiveness that he only showed when he was hitting that deep inside you. Jungkook also knew that it was bullshit — but he allowed himself to dive into that fantasy as he felt himself throb inside you. “Fuck, Jungkook, I’m really close.” 

But he didn’t relent. Jungkook shoved his head on the curve of your neck, grunting as he quickened his pace in and out of you. He could feel your thighs trembling, your pussy fluttering around him, and yet it didn’t feel like it was enough. “Say it again,” he roared, hands digging to the flesh of your hips. It would leave a mark, both of you were aware of that, and yet there was a shared sense of wonder when you saw the purple bruises that he would leave behind. “Say that it’s mine.” 

“This pussy is yours, Jungkook,” you whined, head pressed hard against the soft pillows. At that point, you’d say and do anything he asked you to. “O-Only yours.” 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice hoarse and deep as sin. Jungkook was drilling into you like a madman, hoping that the ache between your legs would be enough to remind you of him, of what he could do to you. He wanted you to keep that in the back of your head next time you had to pick between him and some other dude who wouldn’t know how to treat you. “All mine, this is all mine. Made for me.” 

He quickly got lost in his own praises, mind whitening out at the pleasure that monopolized his body. When you came around him, just as perfectly as you had many times before, Jungkook felt a wave of pride washing over him. It pierced its sharp teeth in his flesh, sucked him out of his worries — suddenly he didn’t give a shit about Jimin from your Wednesday class, because he knew that no amount of stupid coffee dates would ever equate to the way he had you. It was just a matter of time before you realized that as well. 

He felt you shivering beneath him, the way you always did when your pleasure was starting to become a bit too much. Jungkook leaned back so he could see your face, that blushy mess that got him sinking deeper inside you, the thin veil of tears that swam over your unfocused eyes. He would bet real money that Jimin from Wednesday class wouldn’t get you like that in a million years. Not that he was jealous or anything. It was just a fact. 

“J-Jungkook, that’s too much,” you whined. 

And he knew that it was, but he also wanted you to feel it all, and wanted you to cum around him as many times as you could. After all, you finally had some alone time, so he was definitely going to make good use of it. 

“Take it for me, baby,” he asked breathlessly, the rising pitch of his voice signaling that he was close too. Jungkook could feel his own orgasm growing closer, building up at the base of his spine and tugging at his balls, threatening to overflow. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” 

You bit your lip, fighting against a sob as he continued his frantic movements. You wanted to be good for him, wanted to fight through that sensitivity for him. But sometimes it was hard to focus, and the space between the pain and the pleasure could be a bit too long sometimes. “A-Are you close?” You asked. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” he spat. Jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on your own, watching as a coat of desperation painted your features. “What’s the matter, baby? You don’t wanna get eaten out after I’m done here?” 

“God, Jungkook,” you said. If you weren’t so lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d probably argue with him further, perhaps try and ask for the millionth time what had possessed him. But you seriously couldn’t be bothered with any more arguments and your brain wasn’t fully functional yet, so you settled for a quick and objective, “Are you trying to kill me?” 

Jungkook chuckled, lowering himself so he could place a kiss against your lips. “I'm trying to make you feel good. Let me eat my cum out of you, baby,” he teased, feeling as your walls pulsated around him at the idea. The fact that he hadn’t cum yet was a miracle on its own, because he had been about to tip over for a while now. “Unless you want to keep it inside you.” 

The interesting part was that Jungkook didn’t fully understand his second option until it had spilled from his lips. Now that it had been spoken out loud, manifested into the universe if you will, it made his cock throb with the mental imagery of you walking around stuffed with his cum, making other guys think they had a chance when you were already his. He’d seriously have to try that sometime. 

Before he could stop himself, his hooded eyes centralized on the hickeys he had embellished your neck with, and his marking was enough to make him spill himself inside you, painting your walls with waves of his warm cum. Jungkook called out what sounded like a broken version of your name, throwing his head back and listening to the wonderful whimpers you were producing for him. Just for him. 

At that point, both of you were considering buying your roommate something as a way to thank her for her wonderful idea of a spiritual retreat. 

Jungkook breathed out hard and removed his cock from your pussy, watching as the white liquid dripped between your glistening folds, accumulating on the sheets. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d probably have yelled at him for ruining your mattress. 

“Have you made up your mind?” He asked, flickering his gaze up at you. You were such a pretty mess, and he lived for the fact that it was all because of him. “Wanna keep it in or want me to eat it out?” 

Honestly, he realized there was no wrong choice and, yet, he wanted to know what you would pick. 

You bit your lip and, after a moment of hesitation, you answered. “Eat it out,” you said. 

Jungkook smirked, lowering his head between your legs. “Good girl.” 

~ 

Jungkook saw you wearing a scarf the next day and he wanted to smack himself across the face for not considering that possibility. It hid all his efforts to mark you, didn’t make you nervous talking to other people. He could see from the faint coat of sweat on your face that you were feeling hot, but he also saw you smirking at him enough times to know that you were planning to endure that for as long as necessary. He was stupid to believe he’d actually get what he wanted for once: it had been too easy. 

He really fucking hated the wintertime. 

~ 

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection! 

Taglist: @youurkryptonite @taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati–c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[sserpente]

A/N: That Hyundai ad hit different. *chuckles*

Words: 3097 Warnings: kidnapping, hostage

New York smelled pretty bad, come to think of it. You had almost forgotten the hustle and bustle of this huge city that never slept and if there was one thing you had not been missing at all after spending a few months in Morocco for work, it was the constant traffic jams.

It was hot, unbearably so. You’d been a sweating mess ever since your cab driver had picked you up at the airport and the fact that the air conditioning in the cab was broken didn’t exactly help with that. Your thighs stuck to the leather of the backseat, your forehead glistening and your make-up… well, it used to be make-up.

The cab driver seemed nice, at least and since the long snake made entirely of cars had not moved for at least an hour now, he had offered to park on the side of the road and get you both a bottle of water. Ironically, you were only a few yards away from Stark Tower.

Perhaps you shouldn’t complain about the traffic jam. Half of the city was a mess after the atrocious battle you had been fortunate enough only to have witnessed on the news on the plane. You could only hope that your tiny studio flat was still intact and quite frankly, it was short of a miracle that a cab service had actually agreed on picking you up so shortly after an almost-war—not to mention that the plane had actually landed.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair sticking to your cheek out of your face. You were unbelievably tired—even more so knowing that you had dodged a catastrophe that would go down in history all thanks to work. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned against the car window when suddenly, the driver’s door was all but yanked open and someone who certainly did not resemble your cab driver, started the car and clutched at the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

Your lips parted. Shackles and a muzzle, along with a blue glowing cube landed on the passenger seat with a loud clatter, followed by an annoyed groan. It was him. The man who had attempted to take over the entire planet only moments ago, he was here in this car and he was currently kidnapping you with it.

A scream escaped your lips, a mixture of shock and fear spreading in your body and fuelling the rising amount of adrenaline. It was only then the God of Mischief glanced at the rear-view mirror and spotted you there panicking—but by then, he had already stirred the car back on the road, straight towards the traffic jam.

“You… you are… Let me out! Let me out at once!” You screeched, the heat around you—along with your miserable appearance—all but forgotten. Loki rolled his eyes. Great. Another mortal.

“I am not stopping this car,” was all he said. Your eyes widened in utter shock.

“Then don’t! Fuck!” Danger was radiating off of this man like heat from an active volcano; so if necessary, you would jump out of the moving car as well. Biting your lower lip and wondering if you should go through with this risky stunt at the speed he was going, the wheels squeaking over the asphalt with every abrupt turn he took, or if that would be a suicide mission. It was probably the latter, and when you reached for the handle of the back door, it took the God of Mischief only a mere second to lock it, trapping you inside.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“You’ll kill yourself.” Loki spat. You did not miss the patronising tone in his voice—stupid. He believed you stupid.

“And if I stay in here with you I won’t?” You retorted hysterically. And it was justified, really—for when your gaze drifted back to the road ahead of you, you could see him racing straight towards a long line of cars waiting for the traffic to clear up.

“Watch out! The other cars, watch out! Oh my God…” You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face with your arms but the imminent crash never came. When you opened your eyes again, Loki had all but moved through the other cars as if by magic. God, what was this, Harry Potter?

With your heart in your mouth, you brought your trembling hands to your thighs and pressed down on them in a desperate attempt to fight off the panic attack rising within you like the forthcoming eruption of a volcano.

But even when you reached the suburbs, ironically moved closer to your home, and the car finally slowed down to a reasonable speed, making you wonder how a god from another realm knew how to drive a car in the first place, your dread kept growing steadily. What would happen once Loki decided he had reached his destination? What would he do with you? Would you end up as another casualty? You’d know where he was, after all, and only God knew how he had managed to escape after the Avengers reported his capture—not to mention that he was in the possession of that mysterious blue cube you were certain bore even more chaos and destruction in the wrong hands.

“I take it this vehicle is supposed to be a means of transport in exchange for payment?” He suddenly said.

“What?” You gaped at him, swallowing. “Yes! I mean, yes, it’s a taxi. That’s… I was…”

“Where do you live?”

“Excuse me? What, are you going to drop me off and expect me to tip you?”

Loki smirked. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why but he did like your feistiness. “I need a place to hide.”

“What… no! No! I am not giving shelter to a criminal!” You snarled, swallowing your fear of him—and then you made the mistake of peeking at the navigation system the taxi driver had set up next to the steering wheel, with your address on bright display to show Loki exactly where he’d have to go.

The God of Mischief tilted his head. “You don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear.”

You took a deep shaky breath, digging your nails into the backseat. If your lower lip was trembling, you didn’t notice. “P-please… please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone where you are or where you went. Please.”

“I am not going to kill you if that is what you are worried about.” He replied after a long pause. When you said nothing, too stunned and scared to come up with another snarky comment, silence spread in the car like wildfire.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you closed your eyes, hoping that this was a bad joke, a terrible nightmare and any moment now, you would wake up safely on the plane, yet to land in half-destroyed New York City—but the end of slumber never came. You were wide awake; even more so when, after what felt like hours, Loki finally stopped the car. Of course, you had not noticed him observing you repeatedly through the rear-view mirror, almost as if to check if you were still alive.

Your eyes met and then, finally, he unlocked the doors. Only now, you did not move an inch. You had no idea what to expect if you stepped out of this car.

Naturally, Loki disagreed with your cautious decision. He yanked the car door open when he saw you frozen in place, grabbing your upper arm so fast you didn’t even have a chance to react, and all of a sudden, seeing the entrance door of the apartment building you lived in did not at all look as appealing as it had at the airport anymore.

His grip around your arm was firm but when you whined in pain, the God of Mischief actually softened it—if only a little, barely noticeable.

“Unlock the door, my dear, will you?” He inquired, smiling sweetly at you. Right beneath the surface, you could hear that there would be dire consequences if you failed to comply.

Surely at this point, he could hear your rapid heartbeat. Shaking, you fumbled for the keys in your bag until they were jingling in your palms all the while Loki watched you like a hawk. You had dismissed calling the police on your phone in the car already—for now.

Fuck, you had been kidnapped. You were about to be held hostage in your own flat, or… or… was he just going to enter and kick you out? Had he been lying about not killing you? Would he fling a dagger at you any moment now like you had seen him do on TV?

Loki followed you when you approached the door and unlocked it clumsily. One floor up and to the left. For just a brief moment, you wondered what would happen if you started screaming bloody murder, alerting your neighbours but even when you opened your mouth to attempt it, not a single sound would escape your lips.

Even a little further out and farther away from the centre of New York City, rent prices were horrendous. Your salary was not bad but your apartment was no more than a small studio equipped with a humble kitchen, a separate bathroom with a tiny shower and lastly, your double bed in the centre of the room, posing as your sofa during the day.

Loki looked around unimpressed when he entered. “Well… it will do.”

“N-now what?” You choked out.

Loki raised his eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Right—because that was going to be so easy. He sighed and rolled his eyes when you only stared at him in horror.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“W-would you? You tried to subjugate our planet like ten minutes ago!”

“And for good reason too. This realm is lawless, your people slaughter each other day in and out and you feel threatened by me? I would have given you a new purpose.”

He had a point… but… “And what is that so-called purpose? Slavery?” Loki’s expression darkened, making you flinch back.

“S-sorry… I’ll… I’ll be i-in the bathroom taking a shower. Please just… I mean… whatever.” Would he stop you? Hesitating, you made your way to the bathroom, waiting for him to yank you back, press you against the wall and threaten you? Threaten you with what, exactly? Could you trust that he wouldn’t kill you? Loki felt like a ticking time bomb in your flat.

But a painful yank never came and when you locked the bathroom door behind you, you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, trying to process the fact you had a war criminal in your home.

Once you had gathered enough energy to do what you had come to the bathroom for and, an hour later, returned to the main room, Loki was sitting on your bed cross-legged, the Tesseract right before him, glowing away.

“I roamed your ‘kitchen’”, he said without glancing up to meet your eyes, “Do you have anything edible at all?”

“I was away for a whole month.” You argued. “I haven’t done any shopping yet because I was kidnapped by a space Viking.”

Loki smirked. Amused, he finally looked up. “Well, perhaps I should take you back to Asgard with me then. I could use a diligent little servant.”

Your reaction did not disappoint him. Chuckling to himself, he slid off the bed more elegantly than you could ever muster, the Tesseract disappearing into nothingness.

“What I am trying to say is that even gods need to eat and I am, quite frankly, starving.”

“That sounds like a you-problem.” You grumbled. And then, as if on cue, your stomach growled. Damn it.

“Fine. I’ll order some pizza.”

-

Loki had all but watched you like a hawk upon calling the local pizza place. Everything inside of you had screamed to let them know about your predicament, to beg them to call the police and send them to you instead of the pizza.

But as soon as the food was delivered, the mood in your apartment changed so rapidly it left you wondering if the only reason for Loki’s world domination attempt had been his hunger. The man devoured a family-sized pizza in but what felt like two minutes and, upon realising you were done with yours, leaving three pieces in the box, he devoured those as well. And never before had you seen someone eat pizza so gracefully.

It didn’t exactly make it feel like you had been kidnapped anymore. Perhaps… perhaps he hadn’t been lying about not wanting to kill you after all. Perhaps he wasn’t as evil as you… no, stop. He had literally just tried to take over the planet!

“What are you pondering on, little mortal?”

You shivered, the nickname affecting you in a way it truly shouldn’t, especially after he had lost his armour and magically exchanged it for more casual clothes—they still looked like they were from a different time period altogether but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as before.

“W-why did you really do it?” You found yourself asking. It was a risk—but you were feeling braver now that your stomach was full even though part of you was surprised you had managed to eat at all.

“What?”

“Why did you really try to take over the planet? Did you… do you really want to enslave us all?”

“A lack of freedom does not equal slavery. It offers protection from failure and bad choices.” He said. You frowned.

“You truly believe that?”

“You fight wars over opinions, religions and race among your own species. Your choices are suffocating the whole of Midgard. I would have changed that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You looked down, reaching for the sweet treat that had come with your pizza to stop your fingers from trembling.

“What is that?”

“Oh, uh… those are marshmallows. This pizza place always packs them with your order, don’t ask me why.”

“What’s that?” He repeated, frowning at the plastic wrapper.

“It’s candy…”

“Well, it doesn’t look very natural.”

Woah. How had this conversation just gone from “humans should not have freedom of choice” to “marshmallows look unhealthy”?

“They’re… I mean they’re not. They’re made of pure sugar and artificial flavouring.”

“Then why do you eat them?”

“Because… because they taste good?”

Loki gave you a taunting look. See? It said. This is what I meant.

But when you opened the package and handed it to him, he took one out nonetheless. It looked tiny between his long fingers—as tiny as you must have looked next to him.

You gulped when it disappeared between his lips. When you reached out to take the package back, he snatched it away from you.

“They are quite delicious, actually.” Your jaw dropped when he popped them all into his mouth at once, winking at you. Not quite sure how to react to this, you averted your gaze, taking a feigned interest in your digital alarm clock on the nightstand instead.

It was only 5 PM but you were positively ready to pass out. Where would you even sleep tonight? Where would he sleep? Would he even sleep?

“You are tired.” He suddenly stated as if on cue. He couldn’t read your mind… right? He did have that weird cube of his, after all.

“Well, yeah… I got kidnapped, experienced a live remake of ‘Fast and Furious’ and I have a criminal in my flat.”

“I only understood half of what you just said but I can ensure you that I will not harm you when you sleep.” There it was again, that frown that almost made it look like he was offended. As if the very circumstance of him hurting an innocent for no reason other than malice insulted him.

“So by all means, retire to bed.” He went on, gesturing to the bed and eventually, standing up to make space for you. The pizza boxes disappeared in but a green shimmer of light and you watched Loki, albeit still suspicious, heading over to the small kitchen table. To be quite frank, it was the last thing you remembered.

-

Loki was gone, no trace of him left. It was as if he had never even been here. It was already past noon—the exhaustion from your flight as well as the racy car drive and last but not least, your shining time as a hostage had worn you out to the point you didn’t even remember falling asleep anymore.

You only realised now that it was your doorbell that had woken you up. Jumping out of bed and moaning when your vision turned black for a moment, you headed over to your speaker and pressed the button. Perhaps it was Loki. Perhaps he had locked himself out but then again… would he not be able to magic himself back in? Why had he insisted on you unlocking the door yesterday in the first place? You shook your head.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Henry, I’ve got your delivery.” A boyish voice responded.

“W-what delivery? I didn’t order anything.”

“You did, ma’am, would you come open the door, please?”

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll be down in a second.”

You had fallen asleep in your clothes from last night, so one quick glance in the mirror was all you had before you headed back down and opened the main entrance door.

The delivery boy was holding both your suitcase and a jumbo-size package of marshmallows in his hands. Big marshmallows—the bonfire kind, to be precise.

“Who…” But you knew. You knew the moment you made the connection and knew the moment you looked straight into Henry’s eyes and noticed them glowing unnaturally blue when he handed the items to you.

It had not been a dream then. Loki had really been here. You had been eating pizza with the God of Mischief and now… the gesture was almost sweet. Was that his way of saying thank you? For what? You hadn’t exactly done much except for trembling in fear.

“He instructed me to tell you that you will meet again soon.” Henry announced and then, before you even had a chance to respond, he turned on his heel, hopped back into the delivery van parked in front of the building and left. You only realised now that the Hyundai taxi was gone too.