#Character Frenzy Friday
You and the darkling have to hide in a cave because of a suddenly appearing storm. It is too far from the castle so you stay here until it’s dry again. What do you think would happen? 👀
Warnings: probably incorrect use of Grisha magic but I don't care, Nervous!Aleksander, pining, shared body heat, smut, unprotected sex don’t be silly, wrap your willy, fuck or die, afab reader (no pronouns), fingering (f receiving),
Word Count: 2805
Ravkan rain is cold and the sudden burst that had surprised you had left you both more soaked than was favorable in this kind of weather, not even the Kefta holding against the heavy droplets coming out of the sky.
But luck hadn't completely abandoned you as there was a small cave nearby, deep enough to provide shelter from the downpour, but with your Keftas soaked, there is not much warmth to be found and neither does there seem to be anything to start a fire.
At first you two just pull your soaked coats closer around yourselves, hoping to preserve some of the body warmth you both had left, hoping the weather would soon take a turn and let you return to the palace.
But by the time you both figured out the weather is not going to change any time soon, you were shivering in your coat, curled up against the cave wall with half purple lips.
Aleksander realised the cold is affecting him too, maybe more than he initially thought it would since he is used to the coldness of the shadows and vaguely recalls a time a healer told him something about staving off the cold and shared body heat.
He knew it was probably a good idea to get rid of the soaked fabrics around your bodies, but it was the fact that you needed to share body heat to be able to survive that was arguing with him.
He had been harboring feelings for you for a few months now, but he could not be sure if you felt the same, even though Ivan had told him many times with a semblance of a smile around his stiff lips that he shouldn't worry about that. And yet...
"Saints, I'm fucking freezing," you said with clattering teeth as you pulled yourself tighter together as far as it was possible and readjusted your soaked coat. "Couldn't there be some damn wood in this cave?"
Seems not. Seems like the Saints like to torture me, as always, Aleksander thought to himself as he slowly came closer to you.
You stopped shivering for a moment when he called your name, curious about what he had to say as he suddenly seemed almost... nervous?
"A healer told me sometime ago, when we found one of our lost search parties, that when things get too cold for one human body to bear alone..." He trailed off as he tried to gauge your reaction, would you be appalled at what he was about to say? Try to crawl away from him, saying that it was a bad idea?
But you did none of those things, you just kept looking at him with curious eyes.
"That if they have a companion... it is best to..." he swallowed before the next words left his mouth, afraid you'd reject the offer. "Share body heat."
He'd said the words, made you a proposal, a fairly scandalous one at that, and for the first time in many decades he found himself genuinely praying to the Saints above that you would accept, if only for your own survival.
He couldn't read your face as you thought about it and he wouldn't blame you if you rejected, but as you had done so many times before, you managed to surprise him. Again.
"Well, I'd accept, but we don't really have anything dry to cover ourselves with to keep the warmth in, do we?"
"I wouldn't be so certain of that," he said as an idea sprung in his mind.
He'd never used the shadows for a purpose like this, but he was convinced it would work. They might not be very warm themselves, but they were excellent at keeping things outside. And inside.
You raised an eyebrow at that. "As much as I would love to be a Durast right now, we don't have anything to keep our body heat trapped in something."
"We do," he simply said, "now strip before we both die from the cold."
It was a command, that much was clear to you, but the underlying playfulness made you laugh.
"Sir yes sir," you giggled and gave him a short wink as you worked yourself out of your coat and other garments until you were both naked, but he covered both of you in shadows, before you could get a good look at him, though he had been watching you the entire time, you had been undressing and he felt heat rushing through his body like he was some blushing schoolboy and he could almost hear his mother scoffing at him as he ordered the shadows to take you to him.
To his surprise, the darkness around the both of you did a far better job of keeping out the cold than he had expected it to
"Better?" He asked, the nervousness he displayed earlier now mostly gone and you hummed as you nuzzled into his chest, which was certainly warmer than you were in the current situation as he slowly lowered the both of you to the ground, making it easier for the both of you to get as close and as much skin contact as possible.
Your body was still shivering against his, but as time went on, it didn't subside like the both of you had hoped, even though you felt a lot warmer than you had before and he felt how you tried to get closer to him, to try and help away even the slightest bit of cold.
Several ideas popped into his head, though he dismissed them all as soon as they came up. He was already happy you agreed to this solution and he wasn't going to push his luck. Not this much, but the longer you kept shivering against him, the more that resolve began to crumble.
And for the second time that day, you surprised him.
"Saints... I am probably overstepping my boundaries here... but I can't think of another way to get warm..."
"Care to elaborate on that idea?" The words left his mouth before he could do anything to stop them as he heard you suck in a surprised breath and quietly cursed himself for losing his filter.
But you quickly recollected yourself before you spoke again, albeit with some hesitance.
"Like I said... I am probably overstepping my boundaries here–" but he cut you off before you could finish your sentence.
"You're not overstepping any boundaries, is that clear?" His tone was commanding as you looked up at him and nodded, though he noticed your gaze was still avoiding his and for a brief moment he wondered why.
"Sexcanraisesomeone'scoretemperatureandhelpscombatlowbodyheat." The words flew out of your mouth so fast he could barely understand what you just said. He wanted to ask you to repeat it in a slower tempo when the meaning hit him.
He wanted to say so many things to you, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was: "Do you trust me?"
As soon as the confirmation had left your mouth, he placed his lips on yours.
The kiss was soft and he could feel you smile as he trailed one hand down your body while the other held the back of your head.
he traced his fingers around the sensitve area of your sex as he deepened the kiss and a content sigh left you as his fingers continued their exploration.
He could hear your breath hitch in your throat every time he went over a particular spot on your inner thigh and decided a little teasing wouldn’t hurt. The more aroused you were, the better.
Your breath grew laboured as he traced circles over the spot and he couldn’t help the grin that was tugging at the corners of his lips, before he moved up to snake his long fingers through your folds.
Your mouth fell open into a silent ‘O‘ when he did so, quietly encouraging him to go on and he happily obliged that request as he found your clit and gave it a few experimental touches, eliciting a soft noise out of you he never wanted to forget.
He continued to tease your clit while the rest of his fingers found your soaking hole and without warning one quickly found its way inside you, making you moan and the grin on his face grew.
The nervousness he’d felt earlier had completely melted away and a more teasing side of him had taken its place as he captured your lips into a kiss once more, this one deeper and hungrier and you eagerly returned it as you felt your hips start to move on their own accord as he continued his torturing slow pace.
“Eager one aren’t you?” he teased as he started to work a second finger inside of you as you only nodded and as he looked at you, he realised he really wouldn’t mind seeing you more often in a position like this, albeit under more favorable circumstances, while he continued to work in and out of you as your walls started to clamp down on his fingers.
You moaned his name and for a moment his mind went blank. He’d always liked the way you said his name, made him feel more of a man than an ancient being, but when it had left your lips in that sweet tone he knew he was a goner. He wanted to hear you say it over and over again and he would never get sick of it.
He could feel you starting to leave marks on his chest from the pleasure you were experiencing and it spurred him on. Perhaps even more than he would like to admit and slowly increased his pace as more moans fell from your lip as he craned down to trail a series of wet kisses over your jaw to your neck where he softly bit down on the skin.
It wasn’t nearly enough to hurt you or to leave a mark, but the way your body went slack with the action had him aching to find out what would happen if he did mark you up.
But something like that was not reserved for this time. Perhaps later, though he wasn’t sure there would be one. He wasn’t even sure you’d want to look at him after this, but that was a concern for later. Right now he just wanted to keep hearing the way you moaned his name and all the other sweet noises you were making.
He could tell you were getting close as your walls started to clamp down on his fingers more and more and he kissed your swollen, parted lips, once more wondering what it would be like under more favourable circumstances.
And then, with a loud moan, you came down hard from your peak. The expression on your face was forever burned in the back of his mind as he worked you through it and as your body calmed down, only now realising how hard he had gotten by watching you as you curled into his chest, his erection no doubt poking against your hip.
“How do you feel?” He asked as he weaved one of his hands through your hair, trying to ignore his massive hard on as he checked in with you.
“Warmer. You?” you softly murmured as you placed a soft kiss on his chest, either ignoring it too or completely oblivious to what was poking your hip.
Horny, was the first thought that went through his head and he silently laughed at himself. He sounded like a schoolboy and luckily for him, it was not those words that left his mouth.
“Better, now you are not shivering from the cold anymore.”
You hummed at his response. “Sure you don’t want to do anything about that hard on of yours?” you half teased him as you giggled at your own words.
He laughed with you for a moment before considering what you just asked.
“And how do you suppose we would do that?” he asked, but he had barely finished the sentence before he felt your hands around his cock, slowly stroking him and he groaned.
“Well we could go about it in one of two ways… either I use my hands like this, or you fuck me.”
He twitched at your words as you continued to softly stroke him.
He didn’t need to think long about that offer as he crashed his lips onto yours, removing your hands from his cock in the same motion.
“Is that enough of an answer for you?” he said, his voice deeper than it had been moments ago and you nodded.
Parting your legs, he dragged his length through your still slick folds, before slowly pushing into you, both of you hissing at the feeling of the other and he rested for a moment when he bottomed out, silently wishing he could see all of you, but the fates would not have it that way.
“Saints you feel big,” you breathed and the clench of your wet pussy made it hard for him to keep control of himself, but he knew he needed to give you just a little more time to adjust to him and so he did.
“Think you can take it?” Half of him was teasing you and half of him was checking in on you, if he truly wasn’t hurting you.
“Fuck- I want to.”
At first, his movements were shallow, but with every stroke they grew longer and harder and soon enough he had set a steady pace, though it didn’t last long as he increased his pace quickly and he was surprised at how quickly he lost himself in the feel of you around him as he started to chase his own pleasure.
Your moans were quickly swallowed as you slotted your lips together in a wet and sloppy kiss, the sound mostly drowned out by the repeated skin to skin contact, the both of you lost in the feeling of each other.
A groan left him when he felt himself get close to his edge as his thrusts grew sloppier.
“Fuck-” he choked out before you pulled him back into the kiss and with a handful of thrusts, he send himself over the edge, not really caring what the aftermath of him coming inside of you could be and neither did you seem to as he looked at your blissed out face.
You whined slightly when he pulled out, the loss of contact suddenly foreign to your body as you cling to him. He thought it was adorable, but in the back of his mind, the thought of you avoiding him forever sprung up again and even though he tried to push the thought as far away as possible, it kept nagging him.
“So, what are you planning on doing after we get back to the Palace?” you asked and he could feel your fingers trace patterns over his chest and he inhaled sharply at the question.
Hoping you won’t leave, he thought as he smiled down at you.
“Asking the Fabrikators to figure out how to make watertight Keftas, probably, and what about you?”
“Continue my training most likely. Can’t let myself be caught alone in a storm like this on my own with no way to keep warm,” you chuckled.
“No can’t let that happen, can we?”
There fell a comfortable silence over the cave as the rain continued to heavily fall down from the sky, neither of you in any sort of rush to break the peaceful moment, even though his heart was hammering in his chest.
If you had noticed, you had decided not to comment on it, which he was grateful for. It didn’t seem like you were planning to avoid him after this, but the thought wouldn’t stop nagging him and it was bothering him enough that, with every minute that went by, it seemed better of an option to ask you how you really felt about him, despite your very compromising position.
But ultimately, he decided against it. He would definitely cross a line there and with the amount of luck the Saints seemed to have granted him today, he decided he wasn’t going to push it. There was a time for luck and there was a time for things that needed to be thought out, confessing his feelings for you falling under the latter.
And so you remained quietly under the stones until the rain was gone and your clothes had dried enough that you could make it back to the Palace without getting sick.
Confessions could always be made later… and at a better time, Aleksander thought somewhat bitterly, but for now, he was happy he had you in his arms, safe and warm.
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(Sorry for the short absence, a stomach bug took me out of commission and I was bedridden and on a diet of chicken noodle soup and toast for like five days lmao)
The Brothers With a Homemaker MC
"I was wondering if I could request the brothers being in a relationship with a male or gender neutral s/o who is kinda like a 50s housewife (housespouse?)"
On god?? Just like that? An excuse to make more fluff???
A quick aside this will be written under the assumption that MC is just someone who genuinely enjoys housework and likes the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that comes from getting that work done for someone they love and want to show affection for.
When you first came to the Devildom, you dropped through the portal with oven mitts, a well used apron, and a four inch tall strawberry rhubarb pie in your hands, still steaming, and it was him that ended up needing to catch you.
Without even thinking about it, you sweetly thanked him and offered a slice once the pie had cooled down, and Lucifer could practically hear Beel's heart shatter from across the room.
Honestly thought he'd selected perfectly- you were an unassuming, inexperienced-with-magic human that seemed noncombative and at least willing to give Diavolo's plan a shot even without being threatened.
It wasn't until first dinnertime rolled around that he realized maybe you might be a bit more troublesome than he initially thought- you cowed Beelzebub into eating with a fork instead of shovelling the food into his mouth off the plate with a bare hand.
You practically steamrolled over the House of Lanentation's normal schedule- picking up laundry duty, taking over the kitchen come breakfast and dinner, he even found you feeding Cerberus and the three headed monster was actually waiting patiently and not eating your arm along with the multiple steaks you were sneaking him!
By the time you made a pact with Satan he was ready to weep in gratitude. He was convinced that you had some kind of hidden magic, to help you corral his troublesome brothers, manage the House, and still achieve better grades than half of the brothers did- all with a determined smile.
As much as he would never say to anyone but himself, in the privacy of his own head, he might have to admit that he has an teeny tiny titanic crush and will gladly use gratitude for all that you do for the HoL as an excuse to join you when you're doing chores and running errands.
Have to make sure you know that the student council is grateful for how well you're upholding Diavolo's mission statement, right?? What no shut up Mammon it's Lucifer's job to make sure the human is comfortable and happy, you're just the bodyguard!
He figured it out when he found you in his study, dusting and alphabetically reorganizing his records after Satan tried to randomize them, and he didn't even feel the defensive need to question what made you think you could touch his prized collection. He was just fine with it because he knew he could trust you with them- and anything else, because you were always there when he needed some help, even when he didn't want to admit he needed it-
Oh fuck he fell for the human exchange student.
Look don't judge him, how was he supposed to NOT fall for someone as determined and immovable yet kind and soft as you?!
Honestly didn't think much when he first met you. Some run of the mill, boring, straight laced human who probably never stole more than a quarter in their life- YAWN!!!
Changed his tune once you took over cooking duty and laundry duty. Hey, if you wanna cook and he doesn't have to, cool. You wanna do laundry so he doesn't have to sneak his loads in with his brothers' because he still doesn't know how to use the washing machine? Double cool.
Less cool when you start nagging him to wear his uniform straight, or brush his hair more, or clean up his room, or stop stealing Levi's stupid little doll things-
Oh god it's Lucifer 2.0 they're so strict to him at first. How does this human somehow manage to have a sixth sense for when he's about to take something from one of the others' room?
Okay maybe calling you another Lucifer is a little harsh- you actually help him with homework, and you cook almost as well as Barbatos, and you always listen to him when he's had a rough day, and you leave little notes in his lunches to have a good day, and contrary to Lucifer you actually notice when he does something right and you heap on the praise like he just did the most amazing thing in the world, and honestly he'd throw himself in front of a bus for you-
Shit he fell for you.
Oh shit he fell for you HARD.
There's hardly a time where he can be peeled away from your side, and the times where he can be, when he finally comes back he's begging like a puppy for positive reinforcement.
Went to a modelling gig? "Look at these shots I did today, aren't they great?! I had to sit still for ages but man they totally came out awesome!"
Had to pick up an extra study session to keep his grades afloat? "Hey MC, mind goin' over these notes I took today? I wanna make sure I did 'em right! I did, didn't I?"
Hell, he'll even pick up shifts at Hell's Kitchen for some extra cash instead of making up some crazy scam. "Look at all this Grimm I made! Great, right?? Now I can totally take you over to Madame Scream's- yannow, to celebrate all my hard work!"
Honestly, you have to beat him off with a stick to make sure that he doesn't do all the chores you enjoy for you, otherwise you'd never get to actually do anything.
He is allowed to help though- with most chores at least. Not laundry though.
We don't speak about the laundry incident.
Well- you and Mammon don't. The other brothers do. Constantly.
"This here is Leviathan, the Avatar of-" Mammon never even got to finish introducing him because the instant Levi actually digs out of his tunnel vision on Mammon and getting his money back, he's squealing like he's at a Sucre Frenzy concert at your unfairly adorable apron and matching oven mitts that are stuffed into the pockets- and you smell like pie how much more Slice of Life can one human GET-
"This is just like 'I Am An Ancient Demon: Saga of Falling in Love With The Mortal That I Took Into My House To Protect But Now They Hold My Heart'!! Do you know how to bake?!! Do you think you could bake the protagonist's favorite Croquembouche?!"
He gets SO jealous and upset when you pay attention to others that he rivals Mammon on the They're-My-Human-O-Matic scale.
You help him dust his figurines, and organize his manga and anime collection, and you don't get on his case about his fixations, and you bring him snacks when he forgets to eat, and you suggest a good sleeping schedule but don't force it if he has a late night raid- for a normie, you're like. SO amazing.
He brags on a livestream about the walking slice-of-life anime living with him and how cute and fun you are then promptly short circuits and blue-screens when a viewer asks exactly how big his crush is on you.
He shuts off the livestream completely once people start making bets on if he's crushing or actually in love and he doesn't look you in the eye for days afterwards.
Like, that's ridiculous! What is he, a character in an otome game?? He just appreciates that you show a genuine enthusiasm for his interests! And that you bake with him- even look forward to it! And that you never call him an otaku as if that's a bad thing or an insult, and you always help him whenever he needs some support, and there are moments where you just talk to him so happily that for quick flashes, he doesn't feel like a gross otaku weirdo-
Oh fuck he's in love with the human.
Almost all your time spent with Levi is baking obscure anime recipes and sewing cosplay outfits together, and honestly you wouldn't have it any other way. It's a fun and imaginative way to stretch your housework muscles and try new things.
He did have to make a deal with you to at least try and organize his room and make sure to throw away any soda cans and food containers in there at least once a week though- he may be an otaku, and you were fine with that, but that didn't mean he was contractually obligated to live like a pig.
His browser history is inexplicably peppered more often with Henry x The Lord of Shadows fanfic but shhhhh don't tell anyone that has nothing to do with the human it's just that the Lord of Shadows is genuinely a better match for Henry than any of his brothers because the Lord of Shadows and Henry just share a deeper, more meaningful bond!
(He blocked someone that tried recommending a fic where Henry falls in love with the Lord of Fools)
Another who didn't think much of you at first. So you knew some recipes and how to get wine stains out of carpet. Big deal.
You became a bigger deal once he got to know you. You were such a good listener, and you treated his books with such care and respect, he found it impossible not to warm up to you.
Every Friday you help him organize his books and pick up the ones strewn across the floor then sort them into neat little piles and you leave notes on them, wishing him a good read or reminding him to take a break every once in a while to let his mind properly condense all the info he absorbs.
He tries to not look for your notes- if he looks for and finds them all too soon, then he doesn't get any until next week when you come back to his room to tidy again.
If he's exceptionally upset he will look though- something about the little smiley faces and hearts that you leave on the notes quells his turbulent emotions into something that he can manage and handle a lot easier.
Lots of recipe sharing- anytime he finds a cookbook, it ends up going straight to you, and he'll help bake or cook the dish in question.
What really hooks him is your patience though. You never act like you're too busy to hear him out when he's frustrated, or that he's being childish, or that he's wasting your time- he always feels Listened To when you're around. He always feels like Satan, not 'Lucifer's Brother', and he's unprepared for how quickly that feeling wriggles into his heart and takes up permanent residence there.
He's your favorite laundry folding partner because in the absence of a book and nothing to occupy his mind while his hands are working, he'll end up rattling off all sorts of facts about anything from wildlife to how often he's caught Levi desperately digging through his library to find more weird and obscure recipes for you to try.
Oh by Diavolo's rather juicy tits you are just TOO CUTE!!
He grabs you for a Devilgram pic the instant he sees that apron when you first drop in. Then steals the pie for several pictures of that too. Then steals your apron to take a few pictures of himself in that.
It takes forming a pact with you for him to actually notice how hard you work around the House of Lamentation.
"Darling your poor hands are completely dried out from all that scrubbing and washing nonsense! We're going out to get you some gloves!!"
A trip out for dish gloves turns into a full day long shopping adventure for butler and maid outfits depending on what you're willing to wear. Careful, he's fond of the lace and he'll go overboard if you don't keep him leashed.
He originally tried very hard to keep you from working so hard, but once he realized that was a fruitless endeavor he instead decided to dive headfirst into the spirit of it himself.
He showed up one day to breakfast wearing a red and white polka dotted dress and a sunhat with white rimmed sunglasses and proceeded to claim he totally got the vintage 50s aesthetic now that he'd actually tried it and it was his new favorite.
Surprisingly the most vulnerable of the brothers about acknowledging his feelings for you at first. He's the Avatar of Lust, so yea, he knows how to charm the pants off of someone, but like
He wants to hold your hand?? And kiss your forehead???? And cuddle with you, without caring if he got up to some naughtiness or not?? And just tell you about how amazing he thinks you are???
That's scary- he's fine with one night flings and friends with benefits, and whatever it is he's got going on with Solomon that doesn't quite have a label, but actually being vulnerable and investing love in your relationship?
He tries to resist falling in love, because falling in love is dangerous and he's ruined enough relationships to know that fact intimately, but it happens anyways, and he can't even bring himself to regret it because you're too sweet and adorable to ever regret falling in love with.
You're earnest about your passions and you cook.
What else does he need to love you?
If the way to a demon's heart is through his stomach, you've got Beel's heart, AND stomach, and all his other vital organs, and his blood and bones too while you're at it.
He falls even faster than Mammon, because he doesn't go through a period of constantly being chided for stealing, so he could skip right to the "My human now" phase
Unabashedly, as well. Beel's one of the bluntest brothers, and he sees no reason to be shy about how much he cares about you.
He follows you around like a lost puppy and anything that you need help with, honestly he's probably the first to hear and help out.
Need to reach the top shelves to organize books and dust? You can use his shoulders. Need some help lugging a mop and bucket up the stairs to clean? He'll carry the bucket, the mop, and you as well. Lost something under a couch? He'll lift the whole damn thing up to let you grab it. Accidentally cut yourself picking up porcelain from a vase that Mammon broke trying to smuggle out of the House? Well, hope you weren't planning on using that arm for the rest of the day, because he'll treat even the slightest of cuts as if it was life threatening and ramp up his territorial protectiveness to eleven.
He's not allowed in the kitchen when you're cooking or baking though- he always ends up wolfing everything you make down, leaving nothing for his brothers.
Belphie would probably love you...
Belphie fucking loathes you at first.
He feels a white hot flash of utter adoration every time Beel eats something you've made or sees you smile, and he hates it more than words can describe. He's felt that echo of love from another sibling before, and he allowed it, and that was the worst decision he's ever made in his fucking life.
He can't lose another sibling to a fucking human- it trumps even his desire for revenge on Lucifer.
So he quashes the echoes from Beel whenever you sneak up to the attic with a plate of his favorite soup that Beel told you he liked, or with a new book or comic. He gets positively vile and nasty the first time he catches himself genuinely smiling as he watches you fold laundry on the other side of that door, blames it on Beel's emotions bleeding over to his.
Pretends that he hates you as he crushes the breath from your throat, lies to himself that he doesn't care when the betrayal shines brighter than the tears in your eyes.
He also acts like he isn't crying when you're the first to step across the wedge he drove between himself and his brothers after it's all said and done with and open your arms to coax his head onto your lap while you sew a button back onto Mammon's uniform in front of the others, acts like he doesn't croak out a weak apology that only you can hear.
He's your sewing company. Oh he doesn't help, he'd fall asleep and prick his fingers and probably drool all over your threads and needles, but he always insists that whenever you need/want to sew, you do it while he's around so he can watch you work. The rhythmic notion soothes and lulls him to sleep like nothing else can, and his nightmares are never even half as severe as they are when you aren't around, if they even show up at all.
You also have a habit of finding him sleeping in the super sized laundry baskets you use on laundry day for clothes fresh from the dryer, and you've gotten so used to it that after a while you just started heaping more clothes on top of him as you went- he never notices anyways. If anything, he probably likes the warmth and fresh laundry scent.
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Title: So Much For Being Quiet
Rated M 18+ (MINORS ARE NOT WELCOME TO READ OR INTERACT WITH THIS POST. MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED)
Content Warning: all characters are 18+, izuku x femme!reader (gender-neutral language used, reader has breasts and a vagina), undetermined relationship (they really like each other though 🥺), exhibitionism? (they fuck in front of other people), implied voyeurism, oral (izuku), hand job (izuku), frottage/grinding (reader), cum play, slight nipple play (izuku), pet names (i.e kitty and baby), overuse of the word fuck, probs some editing errors, idk lemme know if there’s anything I missed, I hope it’s not rushed I got antsy to finish 😩
Word Count < 1850
“Shh,” he giggles, petting the back of your head. “They’re going to hear us.”
That’s easy for him to say, he doesn’t have an 8-inch penis shoved down the back of his throat. The gurgling and sucking and retching is so loud, it’s a wonder how you’ve gone unnoticed thus far.
It’s movie night, an occasion designated for every Friday evening. Everyone is scattered about Momo’s living room, all seemingly having fallen asleep during your movie marathon. Kirishima and Denki are cuddled in little makeshift cots on the floor, Urahaka has a couch all to herself, Momo retreated to her bedroom awhile back, and Bakugo is on the far end of the sectional you and Izuku are occupying—er— well Izuku is occupying, you’re kneeled on the floor in between his thighs. It’s super risky getting frisky with Izuku with all your friends around like this, but fuck is it hot. Izuku has a hold of the back of your head and is thrusting into your throat unabashedly. His eyes keep flittering between your teary-eyed dick-filled face, and the slumbering bodies around him. It’s so sexy to see his eyes flutter shut from pleasure only to widen and search for the source of any unanticipated noise. Your thighs keep rubbing together in an attempt to ease the throbbing. Any chance you get to release your hold on Izuku’s hips, you bring a hand down to rub your engorging clit.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he whines, a little too loudly for someone having shushed you just a moment ago. So much for being quiet.
Your mouth abandons his dick for your hands to take reign. “Shh. They’re going to hear us,” you mock. You alternate between loose languid strokes and tapping his sticky tip, massaging his balls all the while. It’s so cute how he shudders and moans, biting his lip in an attempt to stay quiet, but he’s doing such a sucky job. Luckily everyone seems to be sound asleep, although Bakugo has shuffled around a few times. Nevertheless, you and Izuku are clear to keep fooling around, and you take full advantage of that.
You love to tease him, especially in situations like this when it’s probably best to speed things along. You two have been fooling around for the better part of five months now and it never gets old. He gets so flustered and restless, but is too sweet to demand anything of you—that is—until he’s had enough. And you love getting him to that point.
He shoots his hips up searching for more friction, but you snatch your hands away and swat at his thigh, whispering for him to be good. He settles down for a second or two when you continue to stroke him before growing frenzied all over again. You play this game of swatting him and kissing his tip when he gets out of hand, but he comes to his breaking point pretty quickly. The moment you go to release your grip from around him again, he wraps his hands around your own and fucks up into them. His face contorts in pleasure and his head can’t stay up right for more than a second at a time. He’s drooling a little and his muscles are bulging from exertion. God, he looks so hot when he loses control like this, you can’t take it.
It takes a bit of pulling, but you finally release one hand from his hold. He growls from the loss, but quiets when you make no effort to remove your other. Your freed hand digs beneath your shorts and panties to frantically rub at your clit.
“Fuck,” you drawl.
As much as you both attempt to stay quiet, you fail miserably. Slick wet noises echo throughout the room, and your stifled whimpers teeter into uncontrollable moans. You both stare longingly at each other, completely enamored by the other's pleasure.
God, you are so pretty. Your chin is covered in drool and your lips are swollen from sucking his dick. There are dried tears running down from your lash line and your lashes flutter so gently across your cheeks. You look like an angel. He could stare at you forever. He really hopes he can do that.
“I’m going to cum,” he whispers, chest heaving.
You abandon your clit and regroup your hand with the others to help finish him off. With each stroke increasing in speed he grows more and more tense, spine arching as though he is being summoned by the heavens. You wait with bated breath for the inevitable explosion.
“Please, Zuku, wannit,” you beg, “Want your cum, please!”
“Fuuuuuuck—” Despite the orgasm that rages through his body he still attempts to be quiet. He’s cumming so much, thick gooey globs run down your hands with each hard flex of his dick. He’s so pretty like this: body flushed red, sweaty, and slowly sinking into the couch. He looks so dazed and content. He makes your pussy clench. You continue to stroke him through his orgasm, his hot steely dick gradually softening with each pull, sweet little giggles escaping his lips ushering you to stop before his balls run dry.
There’s so much cum; you have to play in it. You take the liberty to massage it into his skin, sliding it across his inner thighs, making sure to drag it through every curve and dip of his lower abs, even traveling beneath his shirt to pinch and tug at his nipples. It’s calming and distracts you from the throbbing between your legs. Still attempting to catch his breath he says nothing, allowing you to do what you please. Despite how messy it is, it does feel good; he could probably fall asleep like this, if he didn’t notice your squirming.
You’ve soiled your panties and sleep shorts, bottoms mushy and uncomfortable. Rubbing your thighs together really isn’t cutting it anymore. Everyone is still asleep. There’s still time to do more, if he wants, though he looks pretty tired. As much as your loins burn for release, you can sleep happy with your sexual escapade ending here.
You stand from the floor and turn to find the restroom, only to be stopped by Izuku’s firm grip. He lifts himself up from his slouched position and digs his thumbs into the sides of your shorts and panties, yanking them down to your feet in one hard pull. You eagerly step out of the clothing, excited you get to cum too. Your ass is grabbed and jiggled and prodded by Izuku’s large hands, before he pulls you to straddle his hips. His shirt is lifted and tucked beneath his armpits to reveal more of his abs as he sinks back into the couch. He settles his hands back on your hips and pulls you further along his abdomen.
His voice is so soft and gentle. It makes you gush how sweetly he speaks to you. “Grind that pretty pussy on me, baby.” He pats your butt to urge you along and hums when you follow his instruction. “Wanna see my kitty cum.”
With pleasure. His abs are cut like fucking diamonds, and they’re still nice and gooey from his cum. You start out slow and controlled, hands resting against his shoulders for leverage. Your hips swivel and swirl, exploring his flexed muscles. He can feel your hole clench and releases slick with every pass. Your clit is so hard and the sound is so wet. He can’t decide whether to look at your face scrunch in pleasure, or your hips glide over his body—either image is perfect.
It doesn’t take long before your hips pick up speed. Seeing him beneath you, submitting himself to you, allowing you to use him like a fucking sex toy, it drives you absolutely wild. And he looks so dreamy with his half-lidded gaze, and dumb flexing muscles; the way he looks like he could devour you at any moment. He takes such good care of you and makes you feel so safe. Everything he does is perfect and he makes you feel so good. Fuck.
You come to that inevitable crescendo that just keeps growing and growing and growing. It feels so good you can’t keep yourself upright anymore. Your arms give out and your chest collides with his own. You wrap your arms around his head to keep you grounded. His head wiggles atop your shoulder to keep sight of your fractic humping. He takes a hand-full of your ass in each hand, pushing and pulling you along his body.
“Yes, baby,” he coos into your ear. “Fucking use me. Grind that pussy against me—just like that.”
You do a much better job at staying quiet than he did, with your cute little whimpers and moans and fucks and babys.
Your hips are moving so fast. Each pass brings you closer and closer. It’s coming so fast you feel blindsided.
Fuck, fuck, fuck—
Your orgasm ricochets through your body, chest shooting up and hips stuttering with a fresh gush of cum. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you body seizes as if you are being electrocuted; you’d maybe even go as far to say that is exactly how it feels. Despite your incapacitation, Izuku continues to rock your hips against his body, absolutely enamored by the ferocity of your release. This image will be engraved in his brain forever.
Your body eventually relaxes and Izuku gradually stops guiding your hips, alternately caressing and petting your skin, cooing about how well you did. Your chest is heaving attempting to capture air into your lungs. You’re a bit disoriented and your arms feel like jello, but you’re able to plop yourself back on to Izuku’s chest. He laughs, finding it funny how fatigued you are.
“Dun lava me” you slur completely pooped and on the verge of asleep. The soothing strokes to your back do no favors to keep you awake.
“I’m sorry you’re just so cute.”
You hum. You can definitely agree with that.
He allows you both to just sit and gather yourselves, although you should get up before someone wakes up and sees you like this. You’re both completely bottomless, and neither of you have announced whatever it is you two have got going on.
“Come on, cutie,” he pats your butt. “We gotta get cleaned up.”
“Okay,” you mumble, and reluctantly lift yourself from his body and the couch. Izuku follows suit, then pulls you close to lock your lips and massage your tongues together. The kiss is longer than it should be considering you’re both standing half naked in the middle of the living room, but you made it this far without getting caught, what’s a couple more minutes of passionate making out gonna change?
The kiss comes to an abrupt stop when a gruff, tired, and annoyed voice rings in the air.
“You idiots done yet?”
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defiant | bakugou/reader
pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader
length: 4,485 words
summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.
Katsuki, however, has other ideas.
tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)
notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.
It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.
You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.
Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.
His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.
He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.
Which is when something off screen caught his attention.
There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.
“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.
The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.
“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.
“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.
“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.
“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.
He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.
“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.
Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.
You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.
You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.
It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.
So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.
If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.
As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.
Whether he wanted to or not.
The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.
That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.
Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.
You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.
You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.
Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.
And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.
You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.
The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.
He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.
“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.
Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”
You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.
In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.
Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”
Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.
You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”
He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”
You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”
You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.
Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.
He was such a boy.
You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.
Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.
Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.
You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.
Two could play at that game.
“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.
Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.
“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.
A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”
You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.
“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.
He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”
“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.
Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.
Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.
Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.
And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.
Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.
“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”
You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.
“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”
“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”
You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.
He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.
“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.
You felt his hips shift in interest.
“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”
“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”
“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.
You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.
Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.
“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.
Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.
“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”
“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”
“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.
He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”
“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.
If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.
He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.
You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.
Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”
You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.
“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”
No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.
You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.
You weren’t fast enough.
The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.
Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.
“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.
You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.
“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”
His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.
“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”
He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.
You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.
“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.
Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.
“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.
“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”
“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.
“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.
He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.
“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”
So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.
“Overheard him what?” you asked.
Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.
“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.
You froze. “What?”
“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”
“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”
“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”
You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.
“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”
“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.
You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.
Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.
That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.
Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.
“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.
Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.
“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”
“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.
“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”
You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!
Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.
You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.
“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.
You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.
“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.
Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.
“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.
You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.
Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.
“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”
Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.
This time, you obeyed.
Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?
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what starkid show should i watch? i’ve just watched the very potter musicals
*limps wrist* ok SO
My personal favourite is The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals, so I'd rec that first.
I will say this tho: In general, Starkid has roughly 2 types of shows: Humour with Heart (Mainly comedy with emotional moments), and Heart with Humour (Still funny, but there's a deeper emotional story). It really depends on which type of musical you like more.
Humour with Heart musicals:
AVPM (at least 1 and 2, I havent seen AVPSY lol)
Firebringer (chaotic queer cavepeople. You ever see the "I don't really wanna do the work today" vine? Thats from Firebringer)
The Trail to Oregon (Oregon Trail game but as a musical. Extremely silly and chaos filled. A personal pick me up favourite)
The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals (Singing aliens invade a small town and chase down a guy who hates musicals. This teeters on Heart with Humour bc it's a dark comedy with some gore, but I find it mostly funny)
Holy Musical Batman (Batman vs Superman but actually good. Excellent villain and songs. I dont know shit about DC but was able to follow along easily. Batman and Superman scream "fuck you" at each other in song.)
Heart with Humour musicals:
Twisted (Ya know how Wicked makes the Wicked Witch from Wizard of Oz into a tragic hero? Well Starkid does that with Jafar from Aladdin. My first Starkid show, and considered by many to be one of if not the best show.)
Black Friday (A doll totally not based on Cthulhu takes hold of a small town mall and drives miserable adults into a violent frenzy. Takes place in the same town as The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals. Technically not a sequel to TGWDLM, but there's a few returning characters and references to TGWDLM. Despite it not being my ultimate fave SK show, this is the one I make the most fancontent for)
???? (aka shows I don't know/can't really place well)
Ani (Star Wars parody. Didn't like the MC and didn't finish it, but some people really like it. Obi Wan is fucking hilarious.)
Me and My Dick (Never saw it due to the recording quality being sorta bad + genital humour isn't my cup of tea. That being said, I know other people who genuinely enjoy it.)
Starship (It's like Aliens and The Little Mermaid had a weird, puppet filled baby ft probably my fave musical villain song of all time. I think it's more humour, but it's been so long that I can't really remember)
Nightmare Time (Little Zoom plays based off of Hatchetfield, the place from Black Friday and The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals. Don't watch until you've watched both BF and TGWDLM. Weird and dark and strange, but good)
Basically what I'm trying to say is: What Starkid show you should watch really depends on your mood. I love Twisted but if I watch it when I'm in the mood for a silly fun musical, it doesn't seem as good. If I'm in the mood for overall fun I do TGWDLM, overall emotional story I do Twisted, and overall silly fun time I do The Trail to Oregon.
All of these are up for free on the Team Starkid youtube channel. Some are in parts, others are fully uploaded. Sorry this was long but I hope this helps! :)
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NCIS: Gibbs - Stakeout
Word Count: 1154|
Pairing: Gibbs x Reader
Gif: Not Mine
Prompt: Hello, I would love if you could write something with Gibbs. He is following a suspect, when they look around so Gibbs grabs Reader and kisses them so he doesn't get caught. Hopefully you like this idea.
You didn’t think this was how you were going to be spending your Friday night. You cussed under your breath, not for the first time this evening. Of all the things you could’ve been doing, your mom has asked you to go shopping for a family get together. While that in itself hadn’t been an issue, the fact that you had to tag along with two of your least favorite cousins was. It’s not that you hated them, but given a choice, you would’ve opted to watch paint dry. It would’ve been less painful for you.
The topic once again focused on how your biological clock was ticking and that soon you wouldn’t be viable for marriage and… you drowned out the rest of the conversation, knowing how it was going to go.
As you placed another jar of pasta sauce into the cart you cursed at your long-time friend, Timothy McGee, for cancelling at the last minute. Granted, you knew work was always the priority, but you couldn’t help it. You were in hell, for the last half hour. Friday evenings usually meant dinners with the NCIS Agents; if you could weren’t working on a case. That you weren’t NCIS but rather FBI didn’t matter to any of them, it was more than a decade of friendship with them and you were sure when it came down to the nitty-gritty of stuff, the NCIS agents would always have your back.
Even if the FBI only existed to annoy NCIS. Tony regularly reminded you of that, often repeating his Boss’ words. It was fortunate for DiNozzo that Gibbs rarely joined the group at these dinners, preferring to spend time in his basement building a boat.
The first time Kate had mentioned the boat-building in the basement, you’d thought she was kidding but, months later, when DiNozzo and McGee confirmed Gibbs was actually building a boat there, you had no choice but to believe them. You have yet to see the boat, or the basement…
You hadn’t had much interaction with Special Agent Gibbs, even when agencies were forced to work together. He was wary of ‘head doctors’ and profilers and Behavioural Analysts’ and preferred to go with his ‘gut’ feelings on things. The most you’d shared with Agent Gibbs was maybe a quick ‘hello’ in the hallways of NCIS or wherever the meet was. Even at the dinners, Gibbs was not much of a talker, preferring to listen more. He was always polite, though.
Thinking of the man, you’re somewhat surprised when you see Agents Bishop and DiNozzo who are grocery shopping. That makes you somewhat suspicious. Why would Tony and Eleanor be shopping, together? And that’s when you notice their body language. They seem more alert than they should be for just shopping, and then you note that their attention is focused on a man closer to you in the same aisle. The man in question seems nervous, but there’s something else that troubles you about him, something that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.
It takes a second before you recognise the man – he’s the lead suspect in the case Team Gibbs is working on. McGee had asked your opinion on this Mr Donnelly and what you found scared you – just enough to warn McGee to be careful with this one.
Neither of the agents acknowledge you but you do see Eleanor say something into her sleeve. Probably updating McGee on the new development of you being present in the store.
And then your attention is diverted by your nagging cousins.
“(Y/N), Are you even listening to me? It’s not as though your Mr Knight in Shining Armour, is just going to show up. You need to put some effort into dating, looking for him,” your cousin Myrtle tells you.
“Did it ever occur to you, that I don’t put any effort into dating, because I don’t want to date anyone?” you ask, your tone acerbic. You’re still trying to figure out a plan if Donnelly catches on to the fact that he’s under surveillance and what he’ll do when he does figure it out.
“Then you’re going to remain a spinster…” you miss the rest of her sentence because your attention is diverted when you feel a hand gently close around your upper arm and spin you around.
To say you’re surprised when you come face to face with one Special Agent Gibbs is an understatement of the year.
You try to keep your expression neutral; it’s a monumental task, but there’s also no need to alert Donnelly of anything just yet. Also Gibbs doesn’t give you time to process anything.
The only thing you’re aware of is Gibbs’ mouth slanting over yours, his lips pressing softly against yours. You feel his hands on your waist, gently pulling you into him and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you.
He pulls back, slowly, eyes pinned to yours. It’s a three second reprieve before he melds his mouth to yours once again, but not before whispering “Rule 27” in your ear. You try to remember if you’d heard DiNozzo or any of the other agents talking about Rule 27 but you can’t think straight because this time, when he kisses you, he’s not gently at all, fusing his mouth to yours, his tongue asking for entrance. You’re caught so off guard but you don’t deny him, granting him entrance. The kiss is hot and frenzied, and nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. When people had told you Gibbs could be intense, they certainly weren’t lying.
Gibbs only breaks the kiss when the need for oxygen overrides everything else. He pulls away, reluctantly, but doesn’t let go of your waist. By the time you get your bearings back, DiNozzo and Bishop have already cuffed Donnelly and DiNozzo is leading him to a group of other NCIS agents to be taken back to NCIS to be interrogated.
“Hi,” he offers you a shy smile and you can’t help but return it.
“Guess not all FBI Agents exist to annoy him,” you hear Tony stage whisper and a laugh escapes you without your permission.
“Don’t let Fornell know,” Gibbs growls and more laughter follows.
“Wait, you’re an FBI Agent?” Myrtle asks you. “I thought you’re an Analyst.”
“She is. A Behavioural Analyst, for the FBI,” Tony says, the annoyance prevalent in his tone.
“Look, we’d love to stay and chat, but there’s still a suspect in custody and right now Agent (Y/L/N) has to be debriefed, so if you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving,” Eleanor adds.
She and DiNozzo don’t wait for your response and turn to leave with the rest of the Agents.
“How about a literal debrief after interrogation?” Gibbs asks you and you can’t help the blush that rises in your neck and cheeks.
“Only if you do the debrief,” you respond once your face stops flaming.
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"Humanity, look how far you’ve fallen,” a voice drawled out of the darkness of San Diego’s Comic-Con. In the summer of 2013 actor Tom Hiddleston took the stage in full Loki costume to promote what was supposed to be his last turn as everybody’s favorite Marvel villain in Thor: The Dark World. The already boisterous crowd went absolutely bananas chanting “Loki! Loki! Loki!” as Hiddleston, channeling iconic pro-wrestling heels like “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, fed off the mixture of screams and boos, pointed menacingly at the crowd and hurled elaborate insults. Go ahead and google “mewling quim” if you’re feeling brave.
It was a star-making moment for an already popular character—one that racked up millions of views online and ensured Hiddleston’s future in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or MCU. It’s the reason, according to longtime Marvel producer Nate Moore, that Hiddleston’s character escaped death once again in 2019’s Avengers: Endgame to land his very own show, Loki, debuting June 9 on Disney+. “If you’ve ever been to a Comic-Con where Tom Hiddleston makes an appearance,” Moore says, ”you see what magic that is.
”The same year Hiddleston turned in the WWE-worthy performance in San Diego, lifelong pro-wrestling enthusiast and Loki head writer Michael Waldron began an MFA program in screenwriting just a couple hundred miles up the California coast, at Pepperdine University. Waldron rode his love for Hulk Hogan and the drama of the wrestling world all the way out from Atlanta to the shores of Malibu. His ride, from there, took him straight to the top. This is how one man’s lifelong love affair with wrestling became critical to the development of Marvel Phase Four.
Less than a decade later, with an Emmy-winning stint on Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon’s fiercely beloved animated series Rick and Morty in his rearview, Waldron has become the chosen favorite of Marvel president Kevin Feige, who was so impressed with the now 34-year-old’s work as head writer on Loki, that he tapped him to take over writing duties on the upcoming Doctor Strange sequel. Impressed with Strange, Feige then handpicked Waldron to work on his top-secret Star Wars project. With Loki set to make a big splash next week, Waldron shared his unusual inspirations for both Loki and Strange, his rapid climb to the top of the Hollywood heap and how, really, he just wants to be the next Nora Ephron.
While still a student at Pepperdine, Waldron landed an assistant gig with one of his comedy heroes: Dan Harmon. Stationed outside the Rick and Morty writers room, Waldron was desperate to catch Harmon’s eye and decided launching a softball league would be the key. “What I knew about him before was that he was a guy that would love a bunch of attention, like everybody,” Harmon says. “When he started coaching the softball team, it became obvious that he deserved attention.”
“We were terrible. We were the worst team in Burbank rec league history,” Waldron recalls. “But it was a great opportunity for me to trick everybody into reading my writing.” Waldron leaned on his “Southern roots” to channel Friday Night Lights’ coach Taylor every week.
“We lost every single game and he’d take us out to the parking lot and give us this pep talk,” Harmon says. “What was the point of pep talking this terrible team? He kept on, which was a job that you couldn’t accomplish by being ironic or cynical.” One day, fortune smiled on both Waldron and the team when, in the frenzied excitement after their first-ever softball win, Harmon offered Waldron a writers assistant job on the fifth season of his NBC sitcom Community. “I look at all the amazing moments I’ve had in my career, and I’ve been so lucky, I don’t think I’ll ever have anything more exciting than that one,” Waldron says.
“He wanted to be a writer and I was like, ‘Too bad. You’re very handsome and charming. Get on the phone and talk to these producers for me,’” Harmon recalls of his early treatment of Waldron. “So there he is on Community as a writers P.A. and as a ‘facilities manager’ simultaneously—which is code for fixing things that go wrong in the bathroom.”
Waldron, not content to work in Harmon’s bathroom forever, began pitching a show he wrote while still in school about his first love: wrestling. Starz gave Waldron a crack at it, and in the summer of 2017, despite never having written a script that made it to air, Waldron ran his first writers room. “What I loved about wrestling, even as a kid, was there were stakes,” Waldron says. “If Hulk Hogan turned bad one week, that had big ramifications for the rest of my life, as far as I was concerned.”
The wrestling show Heels was born and just as quickly fell apart. “We couldn’t cast it,” Waldron says. “So much for my meteoric rise. My career’s over. I’m like 29 and really, really languishing. I licked my wounds after Heels went on the shelf and said, ‘All right, let me prove to myself that I can still write.’”
With his eye on impressing the likes of Marvel and Lucasfilm, Waldron took two weeks to whip together the first draft of a time-traveling/sci-fi/romance feature worthy of both Nora Ephron and the Rick and Morty writers room, titled Worst Guy of All Time. Waldron’s team was disinclined to share a copy of the script (possibly because it’s in development or its DNA will be found in some other project he’s working on) but you can read write-ups of it here and here. The story about the worst guy in the world, the girl who was sent through time to kill him, and how they fell, disastrously, in love landed Waldron on the 2018 Black List alongside Emerald Fennell’s Oscar-winning Promising Young Woman. It also caught the eye of Kevin Feige.
Meanwhile, Dan Harmon had finally seen the light. In 2018, Harmon and his Ricky and Morty team decided to staff “blind” with writers submitting anonymous cold opens for the fourth season of his irreverent, animated journey through time and space featuring a young boy (Morty) and his drunk, Doc Brown–esque grandfather (Rick). “It was such a Sword in the Stone thing,” Harmon says. Someone informed Harmon that the two submissions he identified as “clearly the best” were “both by the same writer and that writer was the guy cleaning your toilets and all other manner of dirty work and trying to develop a Starz show on his off hours.”
Harmon was so impressed that he not only hired Waldron to write for season four, he offered him a showrunner position for season five. “We’re like, ‘Okay. He’s a little green, but he’s moving so quickly and he learns so fast and he’s such a hard worker. We’re crazy for doing it. Let’s take a chance on this kid,’” Harmon says. “He’s like, ‘Guys, I’m so flattered by this. I have a meeting at Marvel this afternoon. I think I might be running a show for them.’ That’s the story of how we loved, semi-supported, semi-discouraged, and definitely lost Michael Waldron.”
Dan Harmon is no stranger to losing talent to Kevin Feige. Longtime MCU directors Joe and Anthony Russo were plucked from Community. And in 2020 Marvel hired another Rick and Morty writer, Jeff Loveness, to write Ant-Man 3. It’s no mystery why. When sitting down for a lengthy interview with Vanity Fair in 2017, Feige was as eager to talk about the Rick and Morty season-three finale as anything else.
“Well, you can’t fight Kevin Feige in the street,” Harmon says. “He’ll just say, ‘Oh, I love that you’re fighting me, this is so wonderful,’ and everyone will start booing you for being a bully. I am honored and validated by the idea that if people leave me, they leave me for Marvel. That’s an amazing legacy.”
When Michael Waldron left for Marvel in 2019, he went with his Rick and Morty experience, his love of wrestling, a time-travel romance screenplay, and very little actual comic book knowledge. This last part may have appealed to Feige the most. The head of Marvel Studios himself didn’t grow up reading comics and has said that someone with an outsider’s approach to a comic book story can be more valuable than a writer stuck in the weeds of back issues. “I grew up a pro-wrestling guy, probably more of a Star Wars guy,” Waldron says, “but my love of Marvel came from the movies.”
When Waldron met with Marvel for Loki, the executive team had already decided to set the show in the world of the TVA (or Time Variance Authority), a sci-fi bureaucratic agency that cleans up any anomalies in Marvel’s increasingly complex and branching timelines and realities.
“That was the sandbox that we had to play in,” Waldron says. “I came up with the emotional engine of the whole thing. The fans of Loki watched him experience a character arc through Infinity War and, in a lot of ways, maybe even arc out. How do we break new ground with this character? What better movies and TV shows did I intend to rip off in each episode?”
Marvel itself solved the “arc out” problem by plucking Loki from earlier in his timeline at the end of 2012’s Avengers. Hiddleston’s character enters the show a time criminal captured by the TVA who may, in the end, prove its most valuable asset. Loki, the series, presents a less evolved, more mischievous god of mischief and Waldron considers Hiddleston’s versatility the show’s ultimate weapon. The ceiling for Loki felt “so high” that Waldron was free to draw on a broad range of films and TV shows to construct Loki’s latest journey through the MCU.
The time-and-space-hopping adventure spirit of Rick and Morty is an obvious inspiration. “At first I was carrying in the Rick and Morty sensibility and I had to recalibrate,” he says. “I'm not writing a 22-minute cartoon. I was watching Quentin Tarantino movies — Inglourious Basterds. Movies that luxuriate in long scenes of dialogue and tension building.” Waldron also rattles off some other surprising inspirations: Blade Runner, Before Sunrise, and Catch Me If You Can.
But just because he’s pulling from cinema doesn’t mean Waldron thinks of Loki as a six-hour movie. “I’d say it’s something totally new! It’s MCU. It was important that every episode stood alone. The Leftovers or Watchmen, which I admired so much—every one of those episodes felt like a distinct short story. That’s the sign of a great episode of TV. ‘Oh, it’s that episode of Loki.’” (If you’re wondering how delightfully weird Loki might get, Waldron mentions the lion sex cult boat episode of The Leftovers, “It’s A Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt World,” as a personal favorite.)
Close watchers of Loki trailers have already singled out what they think is a Mad Men reference in an homage to unsolved mystery man D.B. Cooper. Waldron says the connections to Mad Men, his favorite show of all time, run deeper. “Mad Men is about characters becoming aware of who they are,” he says. “Don Draper gained an awareness of how he was broken and why.”
Here, Waldron says, is where time travel stories really come in handy: “You can literally hold up a mirror to your characters. Perhaps they can encounter other versions of themselves at different points in their lives. In the case of Back to the Future’s Marty McFly, he can encounter versions of his parents and then he understands himself better.”
Fans of the Loki comics know things can get even wilder than Lorraine and George McFly. On the page Loki has shown up as a little kid, and as a seductive figure known as Lady Loki—could these be versions of himself that Loki meets on his journey? Could meeting yourself be literalized in this way? “It certainly could,” Waldron says. “What being is more chaotic than Loki? What do you have to learn from any version of yourself?” If this is the case, Marvel is keeping that aspect of the show a secret but fans have noticed that a few Loki actors, including the decidedly Hiddleston-esque Richard E. Grant, have yet to be assigned roles. Could Grant be playing an elder Loki?
It’s the juvenile iteration of Loki that caught Waldron’s attention. The Kid Loki comic Journey Into Mystery #622-636 by Kieron Gillen was inspirational “not necessarily because our show is about a child version of Loki, but because it excavates his humanity in a more vulnerable space in a way that you only can with a child. A child version of Loki is still burdened by the sins of his past self which is very much what our version of Loki is running up against in the TVA. Can a tiger change its stripes?”
As for Lady Loki, remember the toxic romance Blacklist screenplay that first got Michael Waldron in the door at Marvel. Loki’s cinematic journey has been so tied up in his relationship with his brother, Thor, that he’s never had an on-screen love interest. Waldron, who still aspires to be Nora Ephron, says there certainly are some love stories running through his season.
One love story to keep an eye out for is brewing between Hiddleston’s god of mischief and Owen Wilson’s TVA bureaucrat Mr. Mobius. The two spark and spar, building on the duo’s chemistry from Midnight in Paris. “Mobius and Loki, that's one of the love stories you might see in Loki for sure,” he says. “Although if you print that, knowing our fans, they’re going to take it the wrong way.” When I clarified that their love story might be more akin to the platonic one between Tom Hanks’ FBI Agent Carl Hanratty and Leonardo DiCaprio’s con man Frank Abagnale Jr. in Catch Me If You Can, Waldron says: “Exactly. Right.”
As fruitful as the time travel genre can be when it comes to juicy emotional development, Waldron knows it can also be a logistical nightmare if not plotted carefully. “I can show you what was all over our writers room,” he says, quickly sketching out a branching timeline. “We had to create an insane institutional knowledge of how time travel would work within the TVA so the audience never has to think about it again. It was a lot of drawings of squiggly timelines.”
Marvel already made its case for how time travel works in Avengers: Endgame but that, Waldron points out, “is the way the Avengers understand it.” With a TV show it’s a little different. “I was always very acutely aware of the fact that there's a week between each of our episodes and these fans are going to do exactly what I would do, which is pick this apart. We wanted to create a time travel logic that was so air-tight it could sustain over six hours. There's some time-travel sci-fi concepts here that I'm eager for my Rick and Morty colleagues to see.”
Part of the fun on a Marvel project like this, Waldron says, is creating a disaster and just saying, “‘Yeah, we'll leave that for the next writer.’ But then you do that on Loki and you find yourself writing Doctor Strange and you have to clean up your own mess.”
Like WandaVision and Falcon and the Winter Soldier before it, Loki has two main creatives working alongside the team of Marvel producers and executives. In the world of Marvel on Disney+, a head writer like Waldron will get the ball rolling and then a director, in this case Kate Herron (Sex Education), will join in shaping the project going forward.
“Kate's a great creator,” Waldron says. “Suddenly we had the benefit of fresh eyes on this whole thing as we hurtled into production. It's been run more like a feature in that it’s ultimately more director-driven. I'm not the showrunner in the sense that I'm not the one with the budget hanging over my head.”
Waldron wasn’t even on set while Loki was shooting because in February of last year, just before he was to leave for Atlanta, Kevin Feige called and let Waldron know “they were going in a different direction on Doctor Strange.” Original Strange director Scott Derrickson left the project over “creative differences” and Feige, likely eager to hit the target production date of May, made an offer to Waldron.
“I knew I wanted to stay in the family,” Waldron says. “I felt like Loki was in a great place and I was eager for what the next challenge would be.” Director Sam Raimi, a longtime hero of Waldron’s and someone Feige knows from his early days as a producer on the Raimi’s Spider-Man films, was brought on board a week later to direct.
Time was tight. “How do we just make a movie in two months?” Waldron recalls thinking. “But COVID quickly descended upon us. We're not shooting now until November. So I got to spend my 2020 on Zooms with Sam Raimi. Not too bad.” While acknowledging the foundation Derrickson laid for him, Waldron says he and Raimi started “from scratch.”
Waldron began juggling his Strange duties while still keeping one “hand on the wheel of Loki.” (Oh and somewhere in there he also scooped up an Emmy for Rick and Morty over Zoom.) He put his trust in Herron and fellow Rick and Morty alum, writer Eric Martin, to handle the day-to-day of Loki while Martin and Waldron would collaborate on any re-writes needed to make the series come together.
Waldron found a real-life touchstone for Loki in Apple mogul Steve Jobs. They’re both adopted, he points out, and they love control. For Benedict Cumberbatch’s Dr. Stephen Strange, Waldron says: “I gravitated towards [travel documentarian and chef] Anthony Bourdain. Strange is an elitist as a neurosurgeon and a sorcerer. Anthony Bourdain was a man of the people, but there was that intense intellect. You always felt like he could eviscerate anybody with his words at any time. But yet Anthony Bourdain never really punched down. That was the first ingredient in the stew for Doctor Strange.”
Waldron also connects Bourdain’s world-traveling to Strange’s own reality-hopping adventure: “Anthony Bourdain had been everywhere, seen everything. What surprises you at this point? I think for all of the heroes in the MCU, in a post-Endgame world, how do you rally yourself to fight the stand-alone movie villains after you fought Thanos?”
Strange’s fighting spirit led Waldron to his next inspiration. “He's Indiana Jones in a cloak to me,” he says. “He's a hero who can take a punch. That's what made those Harrison Ford heroes so great. Those guys get their asses kicked. Look at Stephen Strange in the first movie. He's really getting beat up but he's very capable and everything. I can tell you that it's a ride...very Sam Raimi. The film is incredibly visually thrilling. John Mathieson our DP, who shot Gladiator and Logan — I think the look of it is going to be unlike anything you've seen in the MCU before.”
“He just wanted to write a really great Indiana Jones-esque blockbuster,” Waldron’s close friend, fellow Rick and Morty alum and Ant-Man 3 writer Jeff Loveness says. “He nailed it. It’s a kind of a throwback.” Waldron, he adds, may have an even more personal connection to Strange: “His wife is a [physician’s assistant]. He really got to the heart of the character, how doctors do have to be cocky. He got the Hawkeye Pierce energy of Strange.”
Waldron says whatever plans he had for Strange weren’t greatly impacted by the fact that the character was meant to show up (and then didn’t) in WandaVision. But Waldron’s close friendship with WandaVision head writer Jac Schaeffer, forged in the halls of Marvel as he was working on Loki, loomed large over the production. “I admired her so much,” he says. Schaeffer, who recently signed an overall deal with Marvel Studios, created a show around Elizabeth Olsen’s Wanda Maximoff which will lead directly into Waldron’s first feature film. “When I got brought on to Doctor Strange — especially because Wanda is part of that story — I just wanted to make sure I wasn't gonna let my friend down,” he says. “I can't shit the bed because she did such a great job. So we had a lot of conversations. Getting to continue Wanda's story was amazing.”
Waldron found himself in frequent communication with Schaeffer and Loveness, creating a kind of friend-based network of writers you don’t often see across several MCU projects. “He was still in the middle of his highly strenuous shoot and running another show, and working on another secret movie and he came onto our Zoom and collaborated on some story stuff,” Loveness recalls, “It's like swimming in the ocean over there. There's always going to be 10 movies that yours ties into. They're going to change Doctor Strange so that it will affect Ant-Man and that'll affect season eight of The Mandalorian.”
Waldron notes that one of his Loki writers, Bisha Ali, went on to create Ms. Marvel and that the whole interconnected enterprise hangs together better if they can think of it as a family: ”Jeff’s dealing with the Quantum Realm and I was dealing with time travel and the multi-verse. Our conversations are probably illegal to have, digitally. We have to meet on a bridge somewhere.”
“Iwas like eight weeks into writing Loki and I finally moved on,” Waldron recalls. “I'd spent a year driving past the old Heels writers room and feeling like a failure. Now I'd risen like a phoenix from the ashes and then, of course, the jilted lover calls and says, ‘Hey, what are you up to?’”
In 2019, Starz came calling to see if Waldron would be interested in reviving his old wrestling show Heels. Arrow star Stephen Amell, having wrapped up his superhero duties on the CW, was available. Waldron, of course, was a bit busy.
“I had to surrender control over the thing that I had been the most maniacally obsessive over,” Waldron says of giving the reins to actor turned showrunner Mike O’Malley. “Mike, to his great credit, was just so generous and patient with me as I did that. There's still so much of it that's mine.” Waldron spent some of his 2021 working on post-production for the show which will debut this August.
By then, Waldron may be even busier tackling another cinematic galaxy. He can’t say much about getting the call to work on Feige’s Star Wars, but he can say: “You’ve heard all my references here. Star Wars! Indiana Jones! [Kathleen Kennedy], she’s made so many of my favorite movies. So to get to collaborate with both of those entities is a dream come true.” Waldron's Lucasfilm gig came with a lucrative overall deal at Disney.
Setting sail on a steady ship like Marvel is one thing, but diving into a fractured fandom like Star Wars is a much bigger challenge. Then again, Waldron survived the Rick and Morty Szechuan Sauce Wars of 2017, so anything is possible. “I think he can be the guy to really kickstart the cinematic grandeur of those movies,” Loveness says. “That's probably laying it on a little thick, but I really think he's the guy to do it.”
“Star Wars is definitely sticky because if you make a certain brand of nerd happy, you're actually middle fingering an adjacent breed of nerd,” Harmon says. “If you take it too seriously, you're doing it wrong. If you don't take it seriously enough, you're definitely doing it wrong. It needs that total joy of the greatest franchise ever, along with a kind of swagger. I do think that Waldron would make a good match for that, but I don't know if he would make a good match for the machine that's carrying that stuff.”
Then again, this is Feige’s Star Wars and it’s not at all difficult to see why these two have forged a successful partnership. Feige and Waldron are both nice guys from the East Coast with wives in the medical field who like action blockbusters from the 80s, have a connection to Nora Ephron, and weren’t brought up on comic books. But the parallels run even deeper. Feige and Waldron see story in a similar way: constantly pushing beloved comic book characters through the lens of favorite blockbusters like Back to the Future. More crucially, both seem to have mastered the art of being political and ambitious without ever seeming disingenuous.
“I remember when he said [he was going to] Marvel and I was like, ‘Oh, god. That's perfect. He's going to be such a team player,” Harmon says. “Orson Welles is not going to work well at Marvel. The Russo brothers, they were collaborators always, first and foremost. That also didn't surprise me. There's a tremendous mandate at Marvel about ‘all for one’ and respecting the franchise. Their leader, Kevin Feige, leads by example. If your ego is simultaneously powerful but flexible enough to fit through that pipe, you are rewarded and you have a home there forever. It's the most obvious place in the world for Waldron. He is an Avenger.”
Growing up in Atlanta and watching his hero Hulk Hogan captivate a crowd, Michael Waldron may not have even known what an Avenger was. But possibly the two worlds aren’t all that different. “In the Heels pilot, somebody compares wrestlers to superheroes because there's the aspirational quality of putting ourselves in their shoes,” Waldron says. “But superheroes aren't just gods, even the ones that are gods. They're human. They're broken just like us. So whether it's a towering, hulking wrestler in the middle of the ring or a pompous demi-god shooting green balls of energy out of his hands, there's a vulnerability in there. I think that's just a really thrilling thing to get to explore.”
More from Michael Waldron and a Loki preview on this week's Still Watching podcast.
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summary: Terushima is here for you. As he’s always been. You just haven’t noticed.
genre: fluff, a bit of angst in the beginning
warnings: mentions of being neglected (not by characters)
betas: @vanille--kiss thank you so much, I love you my birdie!
special thanks: @prismatales for this beautiful banner! I love you baby
a/n: This work is a part of HQHQ server collab with the prompt “When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?” Check the event’s masterlist here!
Terushima is in the middle of dressing up for the date, when he’s interrupted by a violently ringing doorbell. He’s not expecting any guests, and for a moment he considers pretending he’s not home. Curiosity eventually wins, which he’s grateful for, because behind the door he sees you. In tears. To embrace you is what he wants to do, “it would be crossing a line” is what he thinks.
“Come in.” is what he says.
You go to his room and plop on the bed, before noticing clothes everywhere. On a Friday evening. Shit, you didn’t even ask if he had plans, which, of course he did. Yuuji joins you in the middle of your frenzy, with two cups of your favourite hot chocolate, and shuts the door with the heel.
“I uhh, I didn’t know you were busy, I’m sorry, I- I’ll go now, so-”
“Oi, babygirl, you’re not going anywhere.”
“But I don’t want to interrupt your outing!”
“Too late, already cancelled.”
“So, what happened?”
The faux blonde asks like the best friend that he is, after you take a few sips of the drink and calming down a little. Though, in contrast, feeling your head leant on his shoulder makes him feel agitated.
Oh good, your boyfriend did something. He’s mentally scolding himself for being hopeful, this is not about him.
“He went to her. Again.” Sniff.
“We were supposed to go,” sniff “on a date, but he…” sniff “she asked him for help and he cancelled. Third time this week.”
Yuuji is quickly eyeing your form and notices you’re wearing a cute dress. For the date, probably. He wouldn’t let it go to waste, if you were his.
“Didn’t he also bail on you last week?”
Ah, he shouldn’t have said that. Your choked sob confirms. Truth is, it wasn’t just last week. He’s been calling off some of your meetings for a little more than 3 months now, only lately so frequently. The excuses? “Sorry babes, friends invited me to a gaming night.”, “I know we were supposed to watch this movie tonight, but there’s this party and I really wanna go.”, “I know you’re not feeling well, honey, but she needs me more.” You’ve had enough.
“Yeah, and today… Today I told him that I was his girlfriend, that I needed him more than some chick.”
“So we fought and he… he dumped me.”
You bawl out your eyes onto his shoulder, staining one of his favourite shirts. Terushima doesn’t mind, all that matters is that he has you wrapped tightly in his arms. Even for a price of a few snots on the fabric.
“And it’s always like this, always! Everyone just treats me like a time filler and runs whenever an opportunity comes!”
“Hey, that’s not true, babygirl.”
“Is it so hard? Would you give up parties and all the other girls for someone?”
“I would, for you.”
He didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”
You realise what he just said and raise your head to look him in the eyes. His gaze is soft, as he brushes wet hair off of your face, wipes tears with his finger.
“You’ve always been my first choice.”
Memories flash in your mind. Terushima leaving a party, because you called him and said you were scared of going back home from your friend’s house alone. Him going with you to see a movie he hated, when his teammates were having a gathering. Skipping practice to tutor you for a test you were anxious about. And just now, he cancelled another date, just to hear you cry about your now ex-boyfriend. Maybe your feelings for him that you’ve been trying to suppress for so long, are mutual. Maybe you don’t have to suppress them anymore, because, you realise, you’ve always been his first choice. And it’s time to choose him too.
“I choose you, too.”
“What am I, a pokemon?”
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Monthly round up: July
What’s up friends! Another month ends and we’re here again to summarize what happened in the blog - basically your Mods went on a frenzy as July was disability pride month in the US. Even though we know the fandom goes well beyond the US, we decided to adopt this celebration since it’s such an important topic, and something that really resonates in the fandom, particularly considering Remus’ narrative as a werewolf.
So without further ado, we want to show you what’s been up this month, before jumping into August content!
This month, we rec’ed five lovely fics, plus we made a disabilities rec list, especially for this topic (check it here). The five fics featured in our Rec Friday were Forget-me-not, by @halictus-writer (full rec here), fractured skies, work that’s been orphaned (full rec here), of barnacles and mermen by @xinasvoice (full rec here), Signs of Affection by @kittycargo (full rec here) and A Bit of a Revelation, by LadyAmina (full rec here)
What a month to highlight some resources about disabilities! We put together a post about drawing wheelchairs, boosted @cripplecharacters (rec with some featured posts here), put some resources together about how to write intellectually and developmentally disabled characters and made a full week of content centered in images descriptions and resources to make content more accessible, including 1. a post about what are IDs and why they are important, 2. a resource post with links to guides to write ID, as well as some of @blindbeta posts about image descriptions and some featured posts of them, 3. a tip sheet about how to do images descriptions, and 4. a personal account from Moth about how their experience making IDs has been, to which we added later a link to a column talking about the experience of an artist making image descriptions and how it has benefited them and their community.
For our creator spotlight we were lucky enough to get the insights from @desicosplay (read the interview here), and in our monthly column, we had the privilege to read Theo’s words about writing disabled Remus.
Like every month, we shared a lot of art! We particularly loved sharing and describing two works of @lilgaywolf depicting Remus as a cane user (here and here) and @emmesse96reborn amputee Remus (here).
This month we got to share some wonderful characterizations of Sirius and Remus! We started with Jordyn’s Sirius (space_bunnie1 on tiktok, don’t forget to go show some love!), with a Hogwarts Era secret relationship video, and the heartbreaking story “common sense and keen eye” from @mymischiefisnevermanaged, with @desicosplay as Sirius Black, that depicts a exchange between Dolores Umbridge and Sirius Black while he’s in Azkaban. @departmentofroleplays has an amazing cos-test for a fem!Remus Lupin, and even though it’s not a characterization of Wolfstar directly, @arabella-prongs‘s Mary, implying some feelings between Sirius and Remus, was an unavoidable since we adore it!
And with that, we say goodbye to the month of July, but don’t worry, it’s always disability pride month in your Mods’ hearts!!! We hope you keep enjoying the content we have for you, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have requests for rec lists, questions, or any kind of boost or love letter! we would love to hear from you!
Theo and Moth~
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Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory: Hatchetfield is the Bad Place.
Ok so I was given the go ahead by a couple of you, so I am going to call this a bonus Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory – i.e. one from my mind instead of yours (I will get back to your submissions after this!). Obviously here lies spoilers for the Good Place, which is an amazing show that I don’t think I will ever be able to recommend enough. Its short, its hilarious and it fills the empty theology place in my heart. I know a few others have mentioned Hatchetfield / Good Place AUs before and please please please write them because I want to read them!
The Black and White goes by a few other names: Heaven, Hell, The Good Place… The Bad Place.
The Bad Place was in charge of punishing those who didn’t get into the Good Place, who hadn’t managed to achieve enough points to be considered good people. Usually they found the most hideous way to torture them and that was that.
And then Michael decided to change the system and the Bad Place workers had to actually start thinking about how to torture their humans. Some of the demons were not impressed, wishing they could go back to their old ways of butthole spiders and forcing humans to listen to Sugar Ray. But there were a few who enjoyed the challenge – and the performance – of it all. In particular were a group of demons who came from the “terrifying monsters” department, one of the few departments where they weren’t encouraged to wear their human suits and remained looking like… well their normal demon selves.
They were presented with their case – a group of humans that all knew each other on Earth, all came from the same town – and all had their own issues and vices. The group of demons decided to change things up a bit, instead of telling their humans they had died and gone to the Good Place, they were going to pretend nothing had happened, recreate Hatchetfield exactly how it was in 2017, erase their memories up until that point and leave them to it… for a while.
Eventually they went rogue, naming themselves the Lords in Black and messing with the residents for fun, rather than to improve their morality and ethical standing.
They quickly discovered one of the residents hated musicals. Pokey was let loose on this one, planning a sudden “meteor crash” that slowly turned the other residents… and later the humans… into singing and dancing zombies. The ultimate musical. That is until they managed to breech the normal boundaries of the town and ran the risk of escaping – one of them, the last one not controlled, noticing a loop in time and space Tinky had put into place.
“Give me that doll!”
The chaos that ensued from the miniaturised version of Wiggly was incredible. They thought the humans had a knack for killing each other through song and dance, it was nothing compared to the shoppers frenzy that ensued on the “Black Friday” reboot. But then one of the young ones began to notice things – things she shouldn’t be able to see. They’d hidden Janet away but it seemed she had managed to communicate with one of them anyway… as something called a “Webby”.
The next reboot was complete madness. Tinky had taken a special interest in Ted, making him believe he had managed to travel back in time before getting stuck in the past, completely breaking him. Paul, who they had convinced was a clone of himself, killed Emma along with who he thought was an Android Emma (though was a demon in a human suit). Tom was… somehow in love with a car, and the Lords in Black weren’t sure which of them made that happen. And Hannah – Hannah got to meet their new character – Willabella Muckwab. It was going great – until “Webby” managed to make an appearance again.
Ted was pretending to be the Hatchetfield Ape-man.
Bill and Alice were stood in a fair ground, a gun raised between them.
Someone was killing off all the “nerdy prudes” at the high school.
They just wondered how long they could keep doing this, rebooting and rebooting, before the Good Place found out.
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The pet (2)
Summary: The dream is over but there is still so much to discover…
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Reader, Thor Odinson x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader
Characters: Dr. Strange, Loki Laufeyson, Dr. Cho
Warnings: angst, language, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling, voyeurism, consensual degrading, reverse cowgirl, prostitution (well, she gets paid for sex, so…), oral (female receiving), polyamory, pregnancy, reader has powers, comforting, fluff
A/N: This was one version of Therapy for Superheroes. I decided against this version but kept it. I made a mini-series out of this version
Words: 3,9 k
Divider by @writeyourmindaway
The pet masterlist
“Where do I sign?”
You barely have the time to get an answer from Tony before he has you over his desk. He’s impatient, desperate even when he slides your drenched panties down your legs.
“You naughty girl got all wet for me while daydreaming,” you nod eagerly feeling his fingers toy with your swollen bud. “Never got a girl that wet for me without even touching her.”
“I…I dreamed of you and this arrangement,” your legs are about to give in feeling two thick fingers open you up in a frenzy. “I don’t know how this is possible but I saw you and the others. We were going to have babies.”
“Darling, I learned everything is possible in this crazy world,” his fingers crook to catch your g-spot, causing you to squirm. “I fought monsters from space, a robot army one of my creations created, a crazy Asgardian who wanted to conquer the world and is now our ally.”
“Loki?” Tony’s fingers leave you empty too soon. Obedient you lie on the desk, let Tony slowly unbuckle his belt. “Do I have to serve him too?”
“No, Y/N,” his cocks slaps against your exposed ass, smears pre-cum onto your skin. “I’ll have a test ride with you. If you can fulfill my needs, you’re hired, if not you can write into your diary Tony Stark fucked you onto his desk.” A moan escapes your lips feeling the tip poke at your entrance.
“I want this job, but I need to know…oh god,” he slides into you with one forceful thrust, not caring anyone outside his office could hear the noises you make.
“You will be mine now,” Tony grunts. “Be good and I’ll tell you more about the job when I’m done with this little cunt of yours,” you nod, holding your breath when he carefully slides back out only to slam into you.
“Master or Sir,” you whine, feeling your breath hitch in your throat. “Or daddy if you like it,” Tony smirks hearing a tiny whimper leave your lips. “I know everything about you, darling. All your naughty fantasies, the things you want to try, the need to have more than one partner using your body.”
He sets a rhythm taking your breath away. Every thrust hits home and you wonder if he calculated the way he penetrates you. “I know you always wanted someone to take care of you. I know you need me and the others.”
“You don’t even know me,” shuddering you feel the heat in your belly rise. Your whimpers turn into cries feeling Tony’s hand fist your hair, adding pain to the pleasure he gives you. “Sir.”
“I watched you for months until I send you the job offer,” Tony smirk, now grinding against you. “Who do you think is responsible for your boss firing you out of the blue.”
“Oh-god,” the door to the office opens and you look at Steve who ushers into the room, locking it. “Sir, please, I’m so close.”
“Look at our new pet, Steve. Do you think she deserves to cum?” Steve walks toward you, a smug grin on his lips he cups your cheek to force you to look at him while his friend starts to slam his hips into your ass.
“I thought we wanted to wait until she signed the contract, Tony,” scolding his friend Steve crouches down in front of the desk to press his lips greedily to yours. He’s swallowing your screams and the desperate pleas to let you fall over the edge. “She looks so obedient. Let the girl cum before it’s my turn, Tony.”
“Fine, cum for me, darling. I want you to cream all over daddy’s dick, pet,” you nod, moaning into Steve’s mouth, sliding your tongue over his lips. “Now.”
The dam breaks and you feel slick run down your legs when Tony pulls out to watch your cunt pulse around nothing. “Perfect little slut, Steve. I never came harder.”
“You should explain the rules, her contract, and anything else whilst I have my way with her,” Tony smirks, slapping your ass playfully. “Come over to the couch, doll. I want to have a look at you, all of you. Strip,” your legs wobble but you manage to get up to hastily strip your clothes off.
“She had a vision, just like our friend told us,” Tony watches you walk toward Steve who already got rid of his clothing. He’s stark naked on the couch, pointing toward his aching cock. “Strange was right, I guess. She’s our destiny, Steve.”
“I can only tell she looks ready to take me,” Steve looks at you stand in front of him, shyly glancing at his dick. “Turn around, and I’ll give you what a good girl deserves.” You whimper, loving the way Steve calls you a good girl. “Slow, doll.”
Steve’s hands grab your waist, guide you to his crotch whilst you blindly grasp for his length to guide him toward your dripping entrance.
“Darling, you are such a good girl.” Tony cups your tits, groaning as you squeak when the blunt head of Steve’s dick slips inside. “He’s big, isn’t he?”
“So big and thick,” you whine, fighting to get Steve inside of your tight heat. “He’ll split me open,” your words cause Steve to force you down, making you cry out in pleasured pain when you cum all over him.
“Did you just cum for me, doll?” Steve plays with your bud, whilst Tony stands in front of you, watching your face contort in pleasure. “Rules, Tony.”
“Rules,” panting Tony gets the contract to concentrate on something else than the way Steve starts to move your body. “If you get the job, you’ll be ours. Your body belongs to me, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James Buchanan Barnes, and Thor Odinson.”
“He’s so hard,” you throw your head back, rocking your hips faster. “I will cum again. Please, oh please.”
“Cum for me Y/N,” Steve smirks, toying with your clit. “I know I can make you cum harder than Tony,” Tony grunts, glancing at your cunt. “I think he wants to prove he’s better later.”
“Anyways, back to the contract,” not able to concentrate on anything but the way Steve starts to fuck up into your body you nod, faking you listen to Tony’s words.
“You’re ours, so no other guys or girls. You will not talk to anyone about our arrangement. If you do so, we will find a way to punish you,” you nod again, looking up at Tony with glassy eyes. “It’s your job to make sure you’re on birth control. I will fuck you bare, the others too. We are all clean, got tested days ago. The results are on my desk.”
“’m clean too,” you dig your nails into Steve’s thighs, feeling his cum shoot into you. Warmth fills your belly, and you fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes. “Fuck.”
“I know you are clean, checked on your health too,” you know you should get mad Tony got you fired and that he stalked you but right now, you’re too sated to complain. “We will have you anytime and anywhere. Monday to Friday you are ours, the weekends are off.”
“We want all of you, means oral, vaginal, and anally,” Steve whispers feeling your walls still flutter around him. “Anything else we can talk about.”
“I never had anyone in there,” you blur out, causing Steve to groan. “I was afraid someone would hurt me.”
“Soft limit, I get it. We will talk to the others and promise to take it slow,” Tony makes a note, and you chuckle at the odd situation.
“I don’t like pain or bondage. Toilet stuff is a no go, not only a hard limit,” Steve hums, pecking your neck softly whilst his hand roughly kneads one of your tits.
“We will make a list, darling. Now I want you to go to the bathroom, get clean, and follow us to the conference room. You’ll meet the others, and we will discuss your contract,” Tony smirks when you slowly get off Steve’s lap, squeaking as his cock twitches again…
“A perfect little pet,” Thor hums, watching Sam run his tongue along your sex. He’s purring against your cunt, ignoring Bucky is busy playing with your tits.
The Asgardian watches the scene with interest, not understanding the ‘contract’ or why you are suddenly theirs.
“I think, Sam likes her too,” Bucky snickers at Steve’s words when Sam looks up at you on the conference table, exposed to all men. “Do you want her or not?”
“Babe, that’s the best pussy I ever tasted. If she feels around me as good as you told me, I’m game,” Sam gets up to open his pants, watching you with soft eyes. “Do you think you can take me after those two ruined you?”
“I want to try,” you hold out your hands for Sam, hoping he’ll go easy on you. “Look at you, babe. So needy for my dick.”
“Jesus, can you not talk like that? I’ll burst my pants if you do not stop,” Bucky grumbles, watching Sam stroke his length. “Fuck her so I can have my turn.”
“Guys, she had two of us, with Sam it makes three. You should switch to her mouth or our girl will be a broken doll in the morning,” Steve muses.
“Sam,” you grip his arms, digging your nails into his biceps when he bottoms out with one forceful thrust.
“Babe, you feel so good, warm, and tight. You’re made for us,” Sam whispers, helping you to wrap your legs around his waist. He’s moving slow, letting you adjust to his size. “All velvet and wetness.”
“Wilson, stop,” Bucky slowly stroke his cock, matching the rhythm Sam uses to fuck you into the table. He’s groaning when you grasp for him, to swipe your thumb over the tip. “Good girl. Look at our doll. While Sam fucks you into the table you still try to be good for me.”
“I’ll be so good, Sir,” Bucky hums, leaning over you to capture your lips in a messy kiss. “All good.”
“She saw the future,” Tony throws in, causing Bucky to furrow his brows before his lips wrap around one nipple. “Strange was right about her, our future, and fate.”
“It wasn’t a dream?” you pant, feeling Sam’s hands grip your thighs roughly to drag you onto his cock. “What was it?”
“A vision, darling…”
“I told you to not bring her here,” Stephen sighs, watching Thor hover over you to peck your forehead. “You couldn’t resist getting a pet, now you set fate into motion.”
“She saw the future too, Stephen,” Tony shrugs, when Sam sits onto the bed to look at you. “I think Y/N belongs to us, Dr. Strange. No matter how many times we tried to not get involved with her, we failed. This time we can make it right, keep her with us, and raise our children. The dream, I think to her it was a pleasant one…”
Five years later…when a dream becomes reality…
“Gosh, I feel like a whale,” Bucky snickers, helping you slowly get up. “I’m five months pregnant and look like I could sink the Titanic.”
“You look beautiful, doll. All swollen and filled with not one, or two but three babies,” Steve states, roaming your body with his eyes. “I know one is mine.”
“Not that again,” you purse your lips, glaring at the super-soldier. “What about ‘we are all the father’?”
“I just know one is mine,” Bucky runs his hand over your belly, smiling when one of the babies kicks his hand. “There, that’s mine.”
“Barnes keep it together, one of them is mine,” Tony quirks a brow when you silently beg him to free you from the super-soldiers who seem to be glued to your side lately. “Guys, we need to bring her to her next appointment. I want you to check on the nursery whilst Sam and I take care of Y/N.”
“We want to come to,” flanking your sides Steve and Bucky won’t leave you. “We need to protect her. Anyone could attack you and hurt our babies.”
“No one would dare to hurt my heir,” Thor booms, twirling his hammer. “Y/N is my little pet, no one will hurt her or the babies.”
“Can we all stop and just look at Y/N? She looks hungry and tired. Let’s have breakfast and go to the medic bay together but without fighting over parenthood,” Sam is the voice of reason once again and you are thankful he takes the lead.
“No unhealthy food for my baby,” Steve grunts, shoving the plate with pancakes away. “She’ll have porridge.”
“I hate porridge, I want pancakes, the ones Bucky made for me, Stevie,” whining you poke your fork into the pancakes, defending them fiercely. “Hands off, Captain!”
“Y/N be good”, using his ‘Captain’ voice Steve narrows his eyes but since you are pregnant, you don’t give a shit if you piss him off.
“No! I want pancakes, I’ll get them. I’m the one carrying three babies now hands-off and be a good father, feed your girl,” Tony chuckles, shoving the maple syrup toward you. “Thanks, Tons.”
“Anytime, darling. How about tomorrow you’ll eat some of Steve’s porridge?” you sigh, looking at Steve.
“Fine, but please ad vanilla. I’ll eat it when you add vanilla for me, Stevie,” his blues eyes shine when you agree to eat healthily, even if it’s only one morning it’s a win to Steve.
“Back to the next ultrasound, can we get to know the gender now, doll? Please?” Bucky scoots closer, running one hand over your belly. “Baby?”
“If my vision was true, it’s a girl and two boys, if not, you’ll never know,” you peck Bucky’s nose, smirking when he sighs disappointed. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”
“My little pet, do you need anything? Can I bring you more juice?” Thor falls onto one of the stools, causing the furniture to creak. “Are you happy?”
“I can eat pancakes and have five men taking caring of me, I’m golden,” you roll your eyes, stuffing another pancake into your mouth. “I’m a little tired, is all.”
“You can sleep in my arms, anytime,” Thor hums when you lean your head against his shoulder. “Just say the word, my dove.”
“Lady and gentlemen,” Dr. Cho snickers, looking at the monitor. “There is a healthy girl,” you nod, smiling when Sam gasps. “Here we have one penis and another.”
“Wait! My heir has two penises, he’s blessed,” Thor hums, watching you burst into laughter. Tears run down your cheeks and little snorts leave your lips whilst Thor tries to understand why you are laughing. “What?”
“Doctor Cho meant there are two boys, Thor,” Tony snickers. “Don’t worry, he’ll have a large one cause that’s my son.” You pat Thor’s hand, silently apologizing for your outburst.
“We have another penis and another girl,” this time Sam blinks, looking at the monitor. “Another boy was hiding behind his siblings, just like the girl.”
“Wait! There are five babies now? How shall Y/N’s vagina survive five babies? Oh-what did we do to her?” you look at Tony who turns pale like in your vision before he hits the ground.
“Another one bites the dust,” snickering you watch Sam’s legs give in. “Anyone else wants to pass out on me? I mean, I’m the one with the huge belly and a vagina which will look like the Grand Canyon.” Steve swallows thickly, glancing at Bucky who fights with his emotions before he starts smiling dumbly.
“Imagine, all of them are mine,” Bucky chokes out before he fists his friends’ jacket, “Stevie, what will I do if they all look like me?”
“Call them punk 1 two 5?” Steve laughs watching you pat Tony and Sam’s heads. “If not, you can call the girls punkie.”
“Not helpful, Stevie, not helpful at all,” Dr. Cho grins, nodding at you to let the ‘bomb’ drop.
“Y/N wants to announce something. I must ask you to not freak out are destroy my equipment again, pointing toward Thor’s hammer she narrows her eyes.
“As you wouldn’t stop bug me, I asked Dr. Cho for a prenatal paternity test,” Tony looks up from the floor, hopefully grasping for your hand. “It looks like one of the girls is Sam’s.”
“Yes, to your left, Captain, one is mine,” Sam smirks. “I knew I can make her round. Now I need to find a name, oh-how do I fend off guys? I need to find a book.”
“As Sam is busy to order more books, I can use the time to you tell that girl number two is Bucky’s,” the super-soldier sniffles when he looks at your belly. “I hope she won’t have a metal arm, tho.”
“Doll, this, punk…I…” Bucky tries to hold back the tears. Steve, Thor, and Tony look at you, tense, waiting for you to tell them about the other babies. “I’m going to be a daddy.”
“We know,” Tony grits out, hoping one of the babies is his. “Is one mine? Please, tell me one is mine.”
“To make it painless, the rest of you is going to be the father of a strong boy,” you smile when Thor drops his hammer to bury his face into your neck, praising your name.
“Punk, you’re going to be a father too,” Steve nods at his friend, still speechless he’s going to have a child with you. “Stevie, you look pale.”
“I…I just need a moment,” panting Steve looks at Tony who struggles to get back up. They fought monsters, whole armies but hearing they will have a child soon is too much for them. “I never thought I’ll have a family.”
“Same,” Tony finally gets back up to place his hand onto your belly. “Wilson, any new books to read? I think I’ll need one or two.”
“I found ten new, no eleven, crap, that one looks good too, I’ll order them all,” Sam furiously orders books, not caring he’ll read only half of it.
“Can we have lunch now, I’m hungry,” nodding Thor pecks your neck, not wanting to let go of you. “You have to let got, Thor.”
“My dove is filled with my baby,” humming the god moves one hand to your belly. “I’ll praise Odin for blessing me with a son.”
“Guys not again! We will not watch that crap!” you insist grasping for the remote control. “Why would I want to see a fight between the fathers of my unborn children and monsters?”
“They need to know their daddies are heroes,” Bucky insists, resting his head onto your belly. “My daughter needs to know her father can protect her.”
“I don’t like seeing one of you get hurt,” sniffling you run your fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Can we not watch a funny movie?”
“Y/N, we will watch anything you want to watch,” Sam pecks your neck, glancing at your belly. “My baby girl can see her daddy in action later. I’ll show her how to fly with my wings.”
“Sam Wilson! You will not take your daughter onto a rooftop and fly with her,” scolding Sam you lose the fight for the remote control. Tony grasps for it, switching to a promo clip for his company. “No, Tony. Not that crap again. I know you look good in that suit, now let me watch something else.”
“How about a classic movie? Casablanca,” Steve tries but you pout, shaking your head.
“Stevie, they do not end up together. It’s a sad movie,” Thor smirks, watching the other men fight over a movie while you rest your back against his chest, letting the god rub your shoulders. He’s not interested in movies or the things the other fight over, Thor enjoys having you against him and his son in your belly.
“Let Y/N choose,” Stephen steps into the room, uninvited he earns glares from your men. “She will need a bit of distraction before five babies arrive.” The master muses, looking at your belly. “I can sense great strength within you, Y/N.”
“She’s carrying my heir, of course, there is great strength,” Thor booms.
Stephen nods but he looks at you, silently telling you he meant you, not the babies.
“I want to watch,” a kick disturbs your thoughts, and you look at your belly in awe feeling your babies move. “I guess they are awake now, thanks for that. Who’s on helping me into the bathroom duty?”
“Why is he still around, watching me?” you don’t like the way Dr. Strange looks at you, nor do you like Tony nods silently, glancing at you now and then. “I’m worried whenever he comes around.”
“Stephen is no harm,” Steve steps closer to you, protectively placing one hand onto your belly. “If he’ll ever be a threat…”
“We will take him down,” Bucky ends Steve’s line as usual. “I don’t like the way he looks at our girl. There is something in his eyes making me feel unease.”
“You? Mr. Cool feels uneasy,” Sam scoffs, not liking even Bucky gets a bad feeling around Stephen. The master means trouble, Sam just knows it.
“We got a problem. According to Stephen, a great danger is coming for our babies. He said something about a corrupted timeline and that someone comes here to correct it,” Tony’s face falls when you struggle to breathe. “The vision Y/N had, it should’ve never come true. It was a warning, not a prophecy according to Stephen.”
“Whoever is coming, we will fight him with all might,” Thor booms, gripping Mjolnir tight. “No one gets my heir.”
“They can come for her but they won’t succeed,” Bucky clenches his fists, aiming his gun toward Stephen. “If you are involved, you are dead.”
“Buck, calm. We need to bring Y/N to a safe place and protect her. We can’t run into a battle and leave her alone, unprotected.” Steve looks at Sam, searching for help. “To your left Cap. Wherever my girl goes, I’ll go too.”
“May I suggest hiding her in another dimension or timeline?” Loki steps into the room, eying you warily. “I’m sad you did not invite me to your little arrangement but, I can help.”
“I do not trust that snake,” Bucky grits out. “He’ll betray us and take our girl.” The soldier shoves you behind his back, watching Loki step closer to you.
“I’m no harm, soldier boy,” Loki smirks, dipping his head to glance at you. “I know the name of the enemy. He was the one, you know, I told you about, brother.”
Thor’s face contorts in anger before fear clouds his vision. Loki told him about a powerful being collecting the infinity stones.
“Thanos,” Thor whispers, glancing at you again. “He hates chaos, wants to cleanse the universe. We have to be fast.”
“True, brother. I suggest we use the stone of the master over there and the one that Vision owns. We need as much power as we can get. If it’s Thanos who wants to wipe out your heir’s existence, he’ll do anything, kill anyone to reach his goal.” Loki holds out his hand smiling when you place yours onto his palm. “I’ll protect you, even if it’s only to pay that monster back.
“What now, Dr. Strange? Any plans?” All eyes land on Stephen who nods thoughtfully.
He knows no one will like his plan but he saw the future, and this is the only way…
>> Part 3
All works Tags
Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags
Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags
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Sitting between his legs in bed. Back against chest. You read the darkling a book and he kisses your shoulders 🥺😩
With the war going on, there are very few moments like this.
Moments where the war seems but a tale from far away, where peace seems to have settled.
But tonight is one of those rare, quiet nights as you sit between the legs of your lover and the leader of the Grisha.
You had been sitting on the bed reading a book when he had come in and placed himself behind your back. Peppering kisses over your exposed shoulders, relishing in the giggles that came from you when he did so.
"Will you read to me?" he'd asked after you had stopped giggling from the kisses and you had agreed.
Between paragraphs he still pressed kisses to you skin, perhaps reminding you, perhaps himself, that this was real. That the peace you had in this moment was real as the words flowed from your eyes to your lips into his ears.
Not that he was interested in any of the words that were written on the paper, but your voice was an extra reminder to him that he wouldn't suddenly wake up without you. That all of it had been a dream.
And so you spend most of the night together, reassuring the other that this was real and that they were there.
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Bang Chan’s first love is one he can never forget.
Believe me, he tried.
But years and years after, he still sees you around every corner of his mind. More often than he would like to admit, he reminisces about your voice cheering him on during PE, your laughter in front of your favourite movie, your ritual Friday lunch under the bleachers.
When he does, as he closes his eyes, he lets himself think he could touch you, hug you even. Then he tries, and is met with the feeling of cold air. Empty.
More often than he would like to admit, you visit his dreams as the main character, the only one that matters. He sees you surrounded with your high school friends, always beaming, always happy, greeting him cheerfully. “Hey, class president !” He is pretty sure you never called him that in real life, yet your voice rings in his head, sending his heart in a frenzy. Sometimes he dreams of a universe where he confessed to you when he still had the time. He wakes up with a short breath, still heady from the thought of your kisses. Those are the dreams that make him cry the most. The ones showing him what you could have been, had he just told you how he felt, showed you you did matter after all.
But now, Chan is stuck in a life without you, where he can’t escape the dullness of an existence you are not a part of. He can't remember a day he wasn't haunted by the ghost of your absence.
You were his first love and he knows there will be no second.
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For Meghan Markle, leaving Britain must seem more and more like the right choice
The Duchess of Sussex, a woman of colour, has faced relentless media attacks – and had no protection from the palace
Published: 17:54 Friday, 05 March 2021
‘The media has used Meghan’s private life for a feeding frenzy.’ Photograph: AFP/Getty Images
Racism is a lucrative business. When it comes to Meghan Markle, the media’s strategy is transparent. Tabloids pillory her with a range of mostly ludicrous allegations – her baby bump is too prominent, her avocados are not “woke”, her earrings are drenched in blood – and then networks double up with manufactured debates in which anti-racist commentators try to push back on those narratives.
It’s no wonder that, in the teaser for his forthcoming interview with Oprah Winfrey, Prince Harry referred to history repeating itself. We saw a similar strategy of obsession and vilification play out with his mother. The genius of it then and now – from a tabloid perspective – is that they as perpetrators are also the major beneficiaries, as their endless coverage racks up clicks and newspaper sales.
Knowing this, and being aware that this discourse is rarely designed to achieve progress or change, has made me reluctant to continue entering the fray. I have not answered the literally hundreds of calls I’ve received recently from broadcast networks, asking me to comment first on the state of Meghan’s womb (presumably the entire nation feels entitled to have a view), and then on her decision to speak to Winfrey.
There is the general obsession with celebrities and royals, and then there is the particular shape this obsession takes when the object in question is a woman of colour.
It’s hardly breaking news that the British media is often driven by deeply racist instincts. You never have to look far to illustrate the point. “Do you look at [Meghan] and see a black woman? Cause I don’t,” said LBC host Andrew Pierce. “I see a very attractive woman. It’s never occurred to me.”
The idea that being attractive and being black are mutually exclusive has a long history in Britain. The very first time I was interviewed by a newspaper, aged 18, I was asked to comment on Jeffrey Archer’s view that, in the past, “your head did not turn in the road if a black woman passed you because they were badly dressed, they were probably overweight and they probably had a lousy job”. (At the time Archer was the Conservative candidate for mayor of London.)
Pierce simply offered us an up-to-date example of how, confronted with Meghan – a black woman he does consider attractive – commentators reconcile this apparent anomaly by reclassifying her as not black at all. And so that cycle continues.
So does the one involving the character assassination of women of colour as a kind of sport. The Mail on Sunday was willing to break the law – as a recent high court summary judgment established – and to take its attack on Meghan to a new low. Having obtained and published a distressing handwritten letter from Meghan to her estranged father, the tabloid deployed a handwriting expert to reveal that her penmanship shows her to be, “a showman and a narcissist”, “self-aware” and “self-oriented”, someone who suffers from “anxiety”. It would be strange not to suffer from anxiety, wouldn’t it, when the media is using your private life for a feeding frenzy, and the institution capable of shielding you – in this case, Buckingham Palace – has decided to sit back and watch?
Indeed, the palace has decided that this precise moment – days before the Sussex’s highly anticipated interview with Oprah Winfrey is broadcast – is the right time to launch an investigation into allegations of bullying made by former royal aides against Meghan three years ago.
Bullying allegations must be taken seriously. That should have been the case for home secretary Priti Patel, who was found culpable of abusing senior civil servants and has just paid out £340,000 to one of her accusers. Yet despite being accountable to the electorate, her political career seems unscathed by this. Clearly she plays a useful role for Boris Johnson, who has consistently protected her, even when she was found by his independent adviser to have broken the ministerial code, which is normally a resigning offence.
It’s richly ironic therefore that the media – which has relentlessly bullied Meghan, including most intensely during two periods when she has been pregnant – is now consumed with these latest allegations that she herself is a bully. It’s also not without context because – as numerous black women have attested of their experiences in white spaces – we are frequently perceived as threatening.
I have my own painful memories of how, as a teenager, younger children at my school said they found me “terrifying”, and how I was dubbed “Scary Spice”. Being biracial did not exempt me from being perceived as frightening simply because of my physical appearance.
It’s difficult to compare these personal experiences to those facing Meghan, because she has become a fixation of the global news media in ways few of us can imagine. She is in this position because of her relationship to the palace – a unique institution that creates global superstars who are not elected, not accountable to the electorate. In her case, she no longer even lives at the taxpayers’ expense.
And yet there is so much the palace could have done to provide Meghan with the same shielding that other senior members of the royal family enjoy. For Prince Andrew, who has faced allegations of involvement in sexual abuse, a palace spin doctor even tried to enlist the help of an online troll to discredit the prince’s accuser.
I would condemn the idea of discrediting Meghan’s sex abuse accusers; except she doesn’t have any. I would criticise Meghan for visiting Saudi Arabia, as other members of the royal family have on many occasions; except she has never set foot there.
Instead, she reportedly wore a pair of earrings gifted by Prince Mohammed bin Salman, whose track record of extreme human rights abuses, including authorising the murder of Jamal Khashoggi and the dismal war in Yemen, has not prevented our nation from selling him arms. I doubt the royal family will open an investigation into this particular allegation anyway, since doing so would offer an inconvenient reminder to countries in the former empire – now its Commonwealth friends – of how much of royal treasure was stolen from them.
I would criticise Meghan for furthering Prince Philip’s current state of ill health, except – contrary to the suggestion of one royal commentator – it has nothing to do with her whatsoever. If Meghan can be linked to murder for wearing jewellery, I dread to think what she’d be blamed for were his condition to get worse.
The greatest irony in all this, of course, is that Meghan left Britain – as I suspect we will discover with some clarity when her Oprah interview is broadcast – to get away from the toxic and racially motivated media obsession with her. And yet even in its remarkable track record of denying her the basic human expectations of privacy, the media are outdoing themselves all over again in proving that her judgment was right.
Afua Hirsch is a Guardian columnist
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Oh, Shit...He’s A Swimmer — Dannyphantom.exe smut
Warnings: This fic contains 18+ material. Anyone under 18 seen interacting with this fic will be blocked!!
Contains: Swimmer!Danny. Lifeguard!Y/N. (Kind of) public sex. unprotected sex (he pulls out, but wrap it up). I think that’s it?? This isn’t really kinky...
Also, a short appearance from William_papa_
Words: 3, 541 (oh, holy shit)
A/N: Okay...the character Nicole in this fic is *heavily* based on my best friend. Some of Nicole’s lines are things that she actually says.
All around me, students hurry from class to class. The sun is shining brightly overhead and I hum happily in the warmth. A soft wind tussles my hair as I make my way towards the main building. I hike my bookbag further up on my shoulder and pull open the door, looking around for my best friend. My eyes flit over several groups of students before I see her and smile brightly. “Nicole!” I exclaim, hurrying over to her. Nicole’s eyes meet mine and she smiles happily, pushing away from the wall she was leaning on. “Ready for lunch?” I ask.
“Ugh, yes. I’m a hungry hippo,” she complains, rubbing her stomach. I laugh lightly, rolling my eyes at her.
“Has Will shown up yet? I didn’t see him,” I say, looking around again.
“Okay, if he was here, you would see him. Your brother is a giant,” she reminds me.
“Tell me about it. Dunno how he got all the height in the family and I ended up a measly 5’4,” I sigh.
Chatting back and forth, Nicole and I walk into the dining hall. We grab a table and I set down my bookbag before heading towards the cafeteria line. I grab two plates and hand one to Nicole, looking at the food that’s being offered today. Calmly, I grab some fries and a chicken patty on a bun before getting a water bottle. Nicole grabs her food and follows me back to the table.
At the table, we both sit down. I notice some a new bookbag and ID have appeared and immediately know that Will is here. Nicole must notice, too, because she comments on it before sitting down and starting to eat. Our lunch conversation is fairly normal. We talk about classes and assignments that we have to do. When my brother joins us, I start talking about something funny that happened in one of my classes today.
All around us, other students are talking happily with their friends. When our conversation lulls, I start looking around at the other students. This is something that I like doing sometimes, people watching. It’s interesting to see what other people are doing and wonder what’s going on in their life. My eyes scan over the room, resting on no one in particular. Suddenly, my eyes are drawn across the room and I see...him. He’s sitting by himself at a table, just staring off into space. His white-blonde hair looks cute and fluffy and I have the urge to run my fingers through it. His strong arms are on full display, leaned against the table with his chin his palm. Truthfully, he’s very attractive, but I’m more just curious about who he is.
I must have been quiet for a while because I’m pulled back to the conversation with a shout of my name. I blink a few times, focusing back on Nicole and Will. They’re both staring at me and I flash an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry...what were you saying?” I ask. Nicole rolls her eyes at me jokingly.
“What am I, chopped liver?” She asks. I laugh lightly, shaking my head.
“No, no, sorry. Just people watching,” I say.
“Any interesting people?” Will asks, looking around the cafeteria. I look back over in the direction of the white-haired boy.
“Well...there’s this guy that I don’t recognize. He might’ve transferred this semester or something,” I say, shrugging lightly.
“Where?” Will asks, looking around again.
“Over there. He’s alone at a table, white hair.”
Quietly, Will follows my eyesight and he seems to see the boy, too. “Oh, that’s Danny,” he says calmly, going back to his food. I stare at him in surprise.
“You know him?!” I ask in shock. Will shrugs his shoulders.
“I mean, not well. I share some classes with him. He’s nice enough,” Will explains.
“Oh, okay,” I say, starting to eat again, too.
“Yeah, he sits near me so we talk sometimes. I occasionally tell him about my soccer games and he talks about his meets.” Nicole knits her eyebrows together, turning to Will.
“His meets?” She asks. Will nods his head lightly.
“Yeah, he’s on the swim team. Joined early this semester.”
For a few seconds, there’s silence between the three of us. Then, the information he just gave us settles in.
“Wait a second...he’s a swimmer?!” I ask in shock. Will gives me a confused look for a second before answering.
“Uh...yeah? I’m pretty sure, anyway,” he says slowly. “Am...Am I missing something?” His eyes quickly dart between Nicole and I. Immediately, Nicole and I make eye contact. She throws her head back, cackling at the situation I’ve gotten myself into.
“Nope...nothing that you should know,” I say, looking back down at my food.
See the thing is...I kind of have a thing for swimmers. Nicole knows this, as I’ve told her about it several times. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. I just find swimmers very...hot. I’m not really sure why, but I’ve always found them particularly attractive. Up until recently, I was on swim team myself. I only stopped when I started college because my major is very intensive and I didn’t want to have to focus on too many things. Maybe I’ll join again one day, but who knows.
For the rest of lunch, Will keeps trying to bring the topic back up. Thankfully, Nicole helps me change the topic again every time and I’m able to avoid telling him anything. As much as I love my brother, talking about crushes and things I find attractive can be hard. He can get a bit overprotective sometimes and it’s kind of frustrating. So, if I can avoid conversations like that, I do.
Soon enough, we finish lunch and each head out to our different things. Nicole and will still have lectures, so they head towards their lecture halls. My classes finished for the day, so I go back to my dorm to work on homework. Thankfully, I don’t have too much work and I’m done within a couple hours. I take a break for a while and just turn on some random YouTube videos. Around 5 o’clock, I change into my swimsuit and pull clothes over top. I’m having dinner with Will and Nicole like every night and then I’m going to head to my job at the school’s indoor pool. I’m the lifeguard, so I kind of need to be there for people to be able to swim.
Dinner is normal, small conversation between the three of us. Thankfully, Will seems to have forgotten about our lunchtime conversation, so I don’t need to worry about that. When I’m done with dinner, I say goodbye to Nicole and Will before heading towards the college’s sports center. The sports center is a large building over by the football field and holds a lot of the college’s indoor sports. There’s a gym, dance rooms, track and basketball courts, plus an indoor pool. I’m almost always here, even when I’m not working. Like I said, I enjoy swimming, so I usually swim when I’m not working.
Calmly, I walk into the sports center and make my way towards the pool. I unlock the doors and turn on the lights, pulling my clothes off and putting them in the lifeguard locker. For the most part, the lifeguard shifts are pretty quiet. Of course, there’s the regulars that come in, but they usually take Friday and the weekends off. I sigh softly, sitting in the lifeguard chair and just listening to the buzz of the overhead lights.
For a while, everything is pretty quiet. Then, out of nowhere, I hear one of the changing room doors open and close. Not thinking much of it, I look up to see who’s entered the pool. Standing just at the end of one of the pool lanes, slowly getting into the water is...him. The boy from lunch...Danny, I think Will called him. I feel my eyes get wide before I look down at my lap again, my mind going into a frenzy. ‘He’s never come before, why is he here now?! He’s here to swim, you idiot. Oh my god. Holy shit...I have to watch him swim. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.’ I’m internally screaming at the thoughts of having to watch this incredibly hot guy swim.
Taking a deep breath, I try to clear my head. Looking up again, my eyes fall on Danny. He’s in the water now and is slowly starting to swim laps. I watch as the water makes ripples where his arms and legs enter and exit. His drenched white-blonde hair sticks to his forehead when he comes up for bits of air. His arms are on even better display than they were at lunch and I can’t help but watch as his muscles flex while he swims. ‘stop that. but... no, stop that! he’s gonna think you’re some weirdo!’ my mind yells at me. I sigh softly, fiddling with the rings of keys that I have.
Suddenly, I hear someone speak up and my heart stops. There’s only one person that it could be. “You know...it’s rude to stare. Though, I’m not complaining,” he chuckles. His voice is a little higher than I imagined, but it doesn’t bother me. I scramble for words, trying to think of *anything* to say to him.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to, I just...I...you’re...you’re really handsome and I...I can’t help it,” I stumble over my words. Internally, I’m smacking myself over the head. Y/N...you are a goddamn idiot.
“Oh, well, I’m glad you think so. You’re rather pretty, as well,” he smiles. I stare at him with wide eyes.
“I...me?!” I ask, pointing at my chest. He laughs lightly, his beautiful caramel eyes lighting up.
“Is that so hard to believe? I’m surprised you don’t hear it more often.”
Resting his arms against the tiled floor, he looks up at me from the water. “It’s...not so much hard to believe as it is surprising to hear from someone as hot as you,” I explain.
“What can I say? I see a pretty girl and I just have to let her know,” he chuckles.
“I’m not complaining, just a little surprised,” I respond. He flashes a bright smile.
“I’ll just need to make sure to compliment you more often.” With that, he pushes off the wall and starts doing laps again.
While he’s here, I do my best to focus on my actual job. Though, my job is to make sure he’s okay, so...I suppose I was doing my job, anyway. No one else comes into the pool, surprisingly. For a couple hours, it’s just the two of us talking. Danny stops every once in a while and holds up short conversations to me. While he’s swimming, I try not to stare at him too much. Though, there’s not much else to do in here, so my eyes keep getting drawn back to him. Every few laps, he switches swimming styles, sometimes swimming free style and other times backstroke.
The time slowly ticks by and I’m bored out of my mind. Besides having Danny to talk to, nothing else is going on. I sigh softly, leaning back against the lifeguard chair. Against the wall, the clock clicks again and I look up. It reads back 9 o’clock and I stand up, getting Danny’s attention. He stops swimming and looks up at me, treading water. “Pools gotta close,” I tell him. He nods his head once and swims down to the end, climbing out of the water.
Yet again, I have to force my eyes to look elsewhere. The water droplets running down his broad back is so much more sensual than it should be. I jump in surprise when I feel his presence next to me. Trying to keep my breathing steady, I look up into those gorgeous, caramel eyes. “You know...I’ve been thinking of this all night,” he hums softly. I feel his cool hand brush against my face lightly. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. My breath is completely gone and all I can do is nod my head. He flashes a small smile and leans forward, capturing my lips with his.
Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around his neck. I can feel water dripping onto my skin, but I couldn’t care less. His lips taste slightly salty, most likely from the chlorine, but I don’t mind it. His hands are resting against my hips, kneading the skin. When he pulls away, I try to lean up and chase his lips. He just chuckles at me. “Darling...if you want this to go any further, I suggest we move to the locker room,” he says softly. My mind is so fuzzy that it takes me a few seconds to realize what he means. Then, it dawns on me. We’ve been making out in the middle of the indoor swimming area.
Looking over towards the locker room, I bite my lip. Do I want this to to further? There’s only once place it could go. Plus, I barely know him. I look back at Danny and immediately my mind goes blank again. *How* can he be so gorgeous?! All thoughts leave my head and I take Danny’s hand in mine, leading him towards the men’s locker room.
Calmly, I push open the door and head inside. Danny follows after me, letting the door shut behind him. Suddenly, I feel his hand start shaking slightly. Looking over my shoulder, I see Danny shivering slightly. “Are you okay?” I ask in shock. He laughs lightly, nodding his head.
“Yeah, I’m alright. The locker room is just cold,” he tells me. It’s only then that I remember that he hasn’t even dried off yet. I immediately let go of his hand and he walks over to the lockers. He opens one up and pulls out a towel, drying off his hair and then the rest of his body.
For a little while, I just watch him dry off. When he’s on, he sets the towel down on the wooden bench in the middle of the room. He opens his arms up to me and I walk up to him. I wrap my arms around his neck again and he pulls me into another kiss. This kiss is more sweet and soft than the last one. “Do you still wanna do this?” He asks softly. I nod my head and twist my fingers into his hair, but he shakes his head.
“Ah, ah. Use your words.” I sigh softly, looking into his eyes again.
“Yes, Danny, I want to do this,” I reassure him. He smile softly and starts to press kisses across my jaw and neck. I lean my head back, giving him more room to work with.
When I feel his kisses start drifting down more, I take my fingers out of his hair and pull down the straps of my top. Danny pulls down the other strap and helps me pull the fop off. When it hits the ground, he hums lightly, pressing more kisses to the tops of my breasts. I sigh softly, leaning back against the lockers. When he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, I gasp softly. Danny takes his time, moving back and forth between my nipples and leaving small hickies on my breasts. I tug lightly at his hair, getting more and more frustrated. “Danny, please do something,” I whine. He chuckles and nips lightly at my nipple before he starts moving down again.
Smoothly, he kneels down and continues pressing kisses down my body. But, as much as I want him to continue, I’m already overly frustrated. I groan in frustration and pull him to his feet again. “Danny, I swear to God, if you don’t do something, I might die,” I complain.
“Oh, someone’s demanding,” he chuckles darkly. I narrow my eyes at him, taking deep breaths. However, before I can open my mouth again, he snaps the elastic of my swimsuit against my hip. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait much longer.” He tugs my swimsuit bottoms down and they fall to the ground, joining my top. Now I’m completely bare in front of him.
Normally, this would make me feel a bit self-conscious. But, right now my mind is too focused on him. I help Danny tug down his shorts and they join my small pile of clothes. My eyes are immediately drawn to his hard cock, but Danny lifts my chin up lightly. We make eye contact again and he smirks at me. I’m pulled onto his chest, but we don’t break eye contact. Danny takes one of his hands and rubs his cock between my folds, collecting the essence there. Then, he lines himself at my hole.
As he pushes into me, I feel a slight stinging. I hiss at the feeling and he immediately stops, but I shake my head. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Don’t stop,” I tell him, my voice faltering a little. He continues pushing into me and I take breaths, raking my nails down his back. Danny groans at the feeling, but doesn’t stop until he bottoms out. When he’s completely inside me, he holds me tightly to his chest and allows me to adjust for a little bit. I take deep breaths, trying to relax my body.
Once I’ve relaxed a little bit, Danny presses me up against the lockers again. I told tightly to his shoulders as he pulls out, then snaps his hips back in. When he snaps his hips, I’m pushed up the locker a little further. He slowly begins to build a rhythm and I hold on tight, slowly starting to feel the pleasure take over. I twist my fingers into his hair, leaning my head back against the locker. “F-Fuck, Danny,” I mutter softly, panting.
“God, you’re so fucking tight. Is this your first?” He groans. I shake my head, my eyes screwed up.
“N-No, just...it’s been a while,” I pant, my nails digging into his shoulders.
Over and over, Danny snaps his hips into me. As he pulls out, he rubs against the spot within me that even I can’t hit. I moan loudly, not even caring that anyone could walk in at any moment. The exhilaration and fast pace pushes me to the edge very quickly. I rake my nails down Danny’s back again, moaning. “D-Danny, I’m gonna come,” I moan.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he pants. At his words, I fall over the edge and clench around him. The feel of euphoria floods my veins as my orgasm hits me hard.
Just as I’m coming down, I feel Danny pull out. He pumps his cock in front of me for a few seconds, then he spills over his hand and onto my lower stomach. He head is thrown back as he moans loudly, letting the pleasure run through him. His hair is sticking slightly to his sweaty forehead and I smile softly, brushing his hair off his forehead.
For a few seconds, we both catch our breaths. Danny steps away and comes back a second later with a paper towel. He wipes his cum off of my stomach and throws the towel away, then we both start dressing again. There’s silence between us and my thoughts are yelling that this was stupid. He’s probably gonna leave us now and never talk to us again. I pull on my swimsuit before turning and starting to leave. However, before I walk off, Danny grabs my wrist. “Where are you going? I thought the pool closed,” he says. I nod my lightly.
“Uh, yeah, but...I still need to lock up,” I remind him.
“Oh. Is it okay if I wait with you? I wanna walk you back to your dorm.”
As soon as he says that, my heart swells. That is actually really sweet. A huge smile spreads across my face. “Yeah, Danny, of course. I don’t mind,” I giggle lightly. He flashes me a bright smile and we head back into the pool area, locking up. When I’m done locking up, I throw my clothes on overtop of my swimsuit. I make sure that I have everything before walking back over to Danny. He holds the door for me and we both head back towards main campus.
On the walk back, we exchange phone numbers. We talk a little bit about things like our majors and what we like to do. “You should come to one of my meets,” he offers, looking down at me. I nod my head happily.
“Yeah, I’d really like that. Maybe I can get Will or Nicole to come,” I suggest.
“That would be nice. But, yeah...it would be cool to see you at one of my meets,” he smiles.
Too quickly, I’m back at the main door of my dorm. I pull out my ID and open the door before turning back around. “Text me!” Danny calls. I giggle lightly and wave to him before heading inside. As soon as I’m out of sight, I squeal to myself and do a little happy dance. Wow...that is not how I expected work to go tonight.
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Always the extra, never the lead
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x F! Reader
A/N: Hey, guys! I'm back hoho serving another angst (if you squint your eyes lol). I hope I broke your heart or makes you feel pain or sad coz that's what i wanna make you feel while you read my piece oftrash. This plot is plaguing mah mind. Also, the title sucks lolololol I can't think of anything argh!
It's funny how people cheer themselves up by thinking that they are the main character of their own story. You think that it's ridiculous to give themselves a fake hope while the fact that the cycle of their story doesn't change anything. They'll never be the protagonist, no matter how hard they try to be one.
That's why you gave up, right. You settle yourself to be just a bystander, watching the main roles act their piece under the big spotlight. Watching the man you love entranced by the stare of the girl he likes. See, it's not you. Because, after all, as much as you wanted to be the Cinderella or Snow White or any other damnsel in distress, he'll never be the prince that will save you. You're just an extra.
Confess your profounding love to him? You already thought of it and considering the consequences of it, you're just a coward who didn't want to jeopardize the only relationship you had with him. You're fine with being his bestfriend. At least, you still have an excuse to be at his house until midnight just hanging out with him. You can still wear his hoodies and imagine yourself acting like how the other girls did to their significant other.
That until she came.
He spent less time hanging out with you. He rarely even talks to you and ask if you're still breathing. As if all of a sudden, every memories you spent with him vanished like a bubble when the narrator introduced his leading lady. Of course, you were jealous, infuriating to be honest, she stole your man, the ash blond you were crushing since you laid your eyes on him. And the thing that makes you go insane is the fact that you don't have the right to be angry because he's not yours to claim.
The only thing you can do is sit there and let yourself drown in pain. Pretend that you're fine with the set-up and act normal. You didn't want to mess up the play, don't you?
Fine, my ass. You're not a masochist.
They're still not together, that means she's not his either. They're still at the phase of knowing each other, so you still have a chance to confess. There's no way that they already fall in love with each other that fast.
Here you are in his room, laying comfortably on the silky sheets of his bed, staring at the ceiling. You just invite yourself to his house.
"Hey, dumbass! Are you even listening to me?" His voice snapped you out of trance. "I'm sorry. I got a lil dizzy for a sec. What were you saying?"
"You alright?" The hint of concern on his voice didn't go unnoticed by you and you just cherish this moment that way you always do. Your breath hitched when you felt his cold hands touch your forehead, his other hand on his comparing your temperature. The small act of friendship makes your blood rush to your cheeks.
"Geez. I'm fine, Katsu." You rolled your eyes at him, swatting his hand away. As much as you want to prolong the skinship, you didn't want to make yourself become a flustered mess. "Now, what were you saying?" You propped your head with both hands under your chin, as you roll on his bed now laying flat on your stomach.
"I said are you coming with me this Friday night. We're just going to eat." You looked at him suspiciously. For a second, your heart triumphs.
"Wow, you already want to see me again."
"Tch. Just say yes or no, idiot." You chuckled at his scowling face. "Just admit that you missed me, grumpy-chan."
"You're a pain in the ass."
And just like that, you didn't have any decent to sleep as you were so excited for Friday to roll. Whatever plan he has, you can't help but to think that it's like he's asking you to go out with him. Ignoring the second line he said, you let yourself dive in fantasy.
It's Thursday and you're still conflicted on what to wear, you asked for help of your friends. Surprisingly, they agreed to help you right away without raising their brows and questioning you about the date with the 'mystery man'. 'Cause they already know who it was, just from how eager you look.
Your love for the blond isn't news to them. Being classmates and friends for almost three years, they already knew how your mind works though they didn't really know how frenzy and complicated the wires in it. They just know the surface of it.
"How about this?" Mina showed you the haltered red dress that ends just above your knee. You decided on it right away which makes your friend shakes their head at your eagerness. After that, you're just casually having fun, giving you advices and tips on your so-called date from their experience.
You saw him leaning on his car, permanent scowl on his face while constantly checking his phone. You eyed him from your position, awe struck at the ravishing aura he oozes. The white dress shirt he's wearing highlights the muscle he workrd so hard to built. He looks so clean and sinful at the same time.
"There you are, grumpy-chan!" You walked towards him slowly, smacking his back as your usual greeting, smile plastered on your face with the hint of blush spreading on your cheeks. You watched him stunned for a while, eyes roaming to your body. "About fucking time. Let's go."
You were surprised when he opened the door for you but you just shake it off. He's gentle, seems like his careful with his actions.
He glanced at you for a moment before he went inside the car. His heart went wild when he saw you. He thought you looked prettier when you dressed up. He always saw you wearing baggy shirts that's why when you showed up with that tight dress he malfunctioned for a bit. You looked bold and sexy like a predator hunting its prey, quite opposite from the girl he's pining. He shakes the thoughts of you away as he began to drive.
Akiya is full of sunshine and rainbows. She's sweet and looks vulnerable like an antique dishware that needs to be taken care of. And he has the great urge to protect the quirkless girl. Funny, how he was so bully to Deku being quirkless and here he was falling for one.
He was so upset to himself when he found out his stupid affection to the girl. Their constant talking amd bubbly personality made it possible to like her. But everytime he's with her, his mind straying away to your well-being. He knew that you have feelings for him but he didn't dig further because you're not vocal about it. With how much his time was spent with you, he cared deeply for you. He loves you, of course, but it isn't like kind of love you felt for him.
After sorting out those endless thoughts, still, his adoration for Akira weighs more than your friendship.
That's why he's inviting you to dinner with him.
The anxiety is bubbling up inside you. The look on his face screams that there's something going on inside his head that you're not ready to unravel. Call it instinct but something feels odd. The ambience around you doesn't suit your guts. You're beyond happy that you're having a good time with him but there's this unsettling feeling that's eating your inside.
Is this what you think it is?
He's the one who initiates the conversation first, sensing the awkwardness in your table. Feeling blue, you just answered him with nods and short words. Clenching your jaw as you forced yourself to smile naturally. It's not really that difficult for you to do it since you are good at hiding.
The dinner was served and you just sat there, eating in silence. You don't dare move your eyes from your plate. You felt him checking on you for the nth time of the night then followed by a sigh.
You fucking knew it. Your grip on the knife was tight while slicing the tender beef. You're silently praying that you'll have the control of your emotions tonight. The night is still young but the 'date' is nearing to end.
"Y/n, just don't fucking talk and listen to me." His hand combing his spiky hair in frustration. He didn't know how to break it to you without hurting you. "What's with the serious talk, grumpy-chan? It's not like you, ya know." You laughed.
"I said I'll do the talking, idiot." You rolled your eyes at his remark."You know Akiya, right?"
"Uh, yeah, she's the girl you like, right." You said with an obvious tone in your voice, smiling, almost seemed like you're teasing him. Almost. Because the bitterness you felt left a hint on your voice.
Silence. No one dared to speak. Not because of your last statement. It seems like gods are not in the mood to heed your prayer as you desperately trying to stop the tears that you didn't know were already falling. You inhaled deeply, calming yourself down, slowly accepting your defeat.
You were the one that breaks the eerie silence. "So, you two are already together. Is that what were you going to say to me? Or is there anything el–"
Realization strucks your chords. How can you be so fucking simpleton? A small laugh leaves your mouth while nodding your head crazily, new batch of tears forming in your eyes. He only watched you, confused.
"Oh my god! You fucking knew it. Am I right?"
"I'm a clown. You knew I love you yet–" You laughed again. People gaze at your direction, feeling pity at your state. You are mess right now.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Yes, I knew it. I knew your feelings but your my bestfriend for fuck's sake!" He raised his voice, bloodshot eyes lingering at your form.
As if like you flipped your switch, you looked at him with blank eyes, no emotions were found as you speak to him. "Is it entertaining? Is it funny to watch me make a fool of myself? Am I stroking your ego when I looked at you with fucking heart eyes huh, Bakugou? Tell me."
"That's why I'm fucking talking to you right now. I want you to stop it. I need you to stop loving me because I can't reciprocate it...I love Akiya."
"I know! Don't fucking rub it on my face. I know it. I already knew it! Okay? And yet here I am still fucking hoping that there's still a chance." You're desperately trying to sound fine, wishing for your voice not to crack. "I-I'm still fucking praying that I wish it's me. Why the hell it can't be me? Why, Katsuki?"
No, you're not going to break down in front of him. That will be last tears you'll shed. You shut your eyes tightly, regaining your control over your emotions. You didn't spare a glance at him, looking yourself at your mirror while retouching your make-up. You grabbed your phone, texting Mina to pick you up while you're talk to him. "Just so you know, I'm not going to cut ties with you. If that's what you're worried about. I'm still your friend, dropping the 'best'."
You looked up at him, eyes meeting his for the last time. You saw his pained expression, clenching his jaw when he looked away. You get up, ready to leave. "Another thing, next time when you reject someone don't do it over a fancy dinner. That just gives them a false hope and that's fucking painful." You chuckled.
Bitter smile plastered on your face, you prepare yourself for the conclusion of the story. Walking to his side, you bend to him while placing a kiss on his cheek, whispering your final dialogue as the side character.
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Ship: LonelyEyes | Jonah-Elias/Peter Lukas
Tags: established relationship; pre-negotiated kink; slight d/s tones; slight exhibitionism; kissing; kissing against a wall; M/M; drinking; evil old men in love (and horny!)
Disclaimer: These characters DO NOT belong to me, they are the property of Rusty Quill's The Magnus Archives.
WARNING: This work has content not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, or in any way bothered by what's in the tags, DO NOT READ!
This work is a fill for the following prompt: 53 - kiss against a wall
Hope I managed to do it some justice. I had no idea where I was going with this at first, but I'm happy with how it turned out!! Once again, thank you for the prompt @nammikisulora! <3
It wasn’t often that they went out to drink. Elias preferred the quiet of his own office, or the privacy of his home, where he could put on some jazz and a robe, and look out of his window while sipping expensive red wine.
Sometimes, he got to see something interesting, such as the neighbour’s wife and their dutiful plumber, who always seemed to display extra care towards the piping system of that particular flat. Elias had considered pulling on some strings just to see what would come out of it, but that was the Web’s style, not his.
His was to watch, and more often than not, to get a laugh out of it.
“You really do have too much free time on your hands,” Peter chastised when Elias told him, and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Sure you don’t have anything better to do with your power?”
Peter looked positively ravishing under the green neon light of the pub, not only to Elias, but to anybody who looked at him. Peter was a big man, and a rather dashing one if you asked Elias, despite the general paleness and the dark circles under his eyes. It was more than expected that people looked at him — and with a nudge from Elias, they certainly did.
Why wouldn’t they? Peter was his husband, and he wanted them to know that the golden ring on his finger had been put there by him.
“Sure,” Elias chuckled. “I could watch you.”
Peter shuddered. “Please, don’t. The mere idea of it gives me the chills. There are far too many eyes here already.”
Elias looked around. It was still early in the evening, and there were only a few people in there with them, but their eyes followed their every movement.
Elias scratched his chin, then gave Peter a toothy smile.
“We could go somewhere else if you’d like.”
Peter was up on his feet the second Elias finished the sentence, and Elias had to stifle a laugh.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Elias let Peter go ahead while he settled the bill. Peter really did hate socials, but every now and again he agreed to these small meetings because he knew that what came afterwards was worth it.
Elias was a man of his word, always had been; he knew how to repay the effort of others with great generosity, and no little amount of enthusiasm in Peter’s case.
The fact that Peter had managed to endure three hours of Elias showing him off to a small audience (small, but still larger than last time. Progress!) was thrilling on its own.
Elias stepped outside to find a grey dusk of biting breeze and yellow street lights, and Peter puffing out cigarette smoke up in the air.
“All done?” he asked.
Elias didn’t reply, only stepped up and took the cigarette while looking into Peter’s eyes. He gave the item a long drag, then slowly released the smoke through lips and nostrils.
Peter’s gaze lingered on his lips for a split second, then drew away quickly.
Oh, this was lovely. Peter’s pining was to Elias sweet torture, for what could be more agonising, more sould-splitting to someone who relished in loneliness, than the urge of seeking out another’s touch?
“Come on,” Elias called. Peter followed.
They walked some distance into narrow streets, Elias leading the way into quiet places, away from the all the hubbub of a Friday evening — though it was still there. A presence, an unbearable knowledge of hundreds of people just a few blocks away.
Peter behaved well and never called the fog upon them, but the tense gait in which he carried himself gave him away.
“Wait,” Elias said, suddenly. “I believe there’s a group of people coming.”
Peter looked at him as if he’d just received the worst news of his life, but he stood there, next to Elias, waiting for said group to draw nearer.
Their voices grew in volume as they approached; there were perhaps seven or eight of them. Elias watched Peter like a hawk from the corner of his eye, but refrained from reading his mind. This was their agreement. Peter would endure this, the mortifying ordeal of being seen, desired, and then Elias would give him what he really wanted.
Before the group got too close to them, though, Elias pulled Peter into an alley. It was dark and the smell of old piss and garbage was almost unbearable, but the way that Peter sagged against a brick wall and sighed with relief had Elias chuckling.
“Are you alright, love?” Elias asked, after Peter had recomposed himself. He received only a curt nod in response. “Good.”
Elias stepped forward, into Peter’s space where he fit so well, and Peter leaned against his forehead.
“Thought you were really going for it this time,” Peter said.
“No, you’ve done enough. Was it worth it, though?”
“Masochist,” Elias said softly. Peter snorted, then went quiet. Ah, yes, this part.
“Come,” Elias whispered.
Nearby, the group from before passed them and soon were no longer heard. For the first time, Peter didn’t pay them mind; the way he was looking at Elias’ mouth was making the latter man all sorts of warm.
It took Elias pulling him by the collar to make Peter act. They started out slow, just a mere brush of lips, more breath than touch. Peter’s hair was soft under Elias’ palm, so he locked a fist around it, then gently released. Peter groaned.
“Yes,” he sighed, then gave in.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Elias knew that they were probably far too old for these little games, for making out in a dirty alley like two teenagers stealing whatever touches they could manage before they got caught. He knew that, he told himself that, but the part of his brain responsible for keeping him from embarrassing himself just did not work at times like this.
Why would he care about anything other than pressing Peter against that dirty wall and kissing him until his face was hot from beard burn? Peter was so big, but he yielded so easily. Elias could have him hard in his trousers just like this, and there was something so primal in it, so primitive. It kept Elias coming for more, because it had nothing to do with the Eye or his powers.
When Elias pulled away, Peter chased after him, and held Elias’ face in place to bite at his lower lip. He was breathing hard through his nose, and the weight of his body made Elias bend backwards a little bit. It was almost too much to bear, but Peter needed this, needed him, and Elias loved it.
Just as it had started though, the kiss ended — both coming down from a shared frenzy that had had them nearly climbing on top of each other against that wall. Elias was sure that he would have to toss these boxers in the bin when he got home, but even that could wait.
Elias watched as Peter sagged again, head falling back with a thump. Elias caressed his hair.
“If you’re planning on staying away for another three whole months, you’d better warn me first. This,” Elias said, and pecked him gently on the lips. “Could have gone for a lot longer if I’d known you’d be this hungry. A lot longer.”
Peter huffed out a laugh. “It was just enough, Elias, thank you.”
“Like hell it was.” Elias smacked him on the chest and pulled him up. “We’re going to my flat. Now.”
Peter could only agree and follow, but the shit-eating grin on his face was very telling. It always made him look unbearably boyish, which had to be against the law somewhere. Elias had always been weak to Peter’s looks, and walking around flaunting his husband always felt obscenely good — but there were parts of him, such as this (the need and the surrender that came of it), that Elias would damn sure keep only to himself.
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ahem as someone who also hyperfixated on sjm i would like your opinions on the karamari hospital, endless mode, and dollhouse specimens/monsters too pwease
Alright. Also hello error, hope you're doin good little man.
Monster 1: He's pretty cool, not too much going on with him though. His design is pretty cool but I'd like to know the story behind him, like what happened to him? An experiment went wrong? I'm sure that's not important since he's there to be the first enemy to block your path but I wanna know. 6/10
Monster 2: Scared the hell outta me and I was glad I got infinite stamina. I like its design and how it's just "alright you woke me up. time to die." Again, no story but it's safe to assume that it was just a body that was experimented on or something. 6/10
Monster 3: It's just a fucking baby head in a box. What. 3/10
Monster 4: My favorite one out of all of them. I love the design and the creepiness of the character. I also like how ominous it is as well. 9/10
Monster 5: Eh, not my favorite and didn't really scare me. Plus, to me, it's kinda random like the baby head. 4/10
Monster 6: It's just fucking Rebecca Black, the singer of "Friday". I- uh. They really ran out of ideas, huh? 2/10
Unknown 1: WHITEFACE MY BELOVED. Always loved Whiteface and always loved the game it came from. 10/10
Unknown 2: F-ck you, Otto. I hate this thing and I love the fact that it was added as a joke and meant to be hated. 0/10
Unknown 3: He deserves headpats. I felt really bad when I had to cut him down to exit a room. I don't like how his method of killing someone is impregnation and internal bleeding though... 7/10
Unknown 4: I like how the creator was like "ya know what, I wanna make something cute." so they made Tiri. I like her design though. Something I wanna point out, she's canonly female but has antlers :eyes: 8/10
Unknown 5: Lisa is great for scares and to make you feel on edge. Her death screen is probably one of my favorites for how scary and creepy it is... bugs creepy me out. 7/10
Husk: Get away get away get away. Scary-looking thing and I hate it. Great for scares and to just make the player go "AH NO GET AWAY." like I did. 6/10
Woormy Charles: He's something... Great for scares and is just overall unsettling. The way it runs at me makes me want to kick it down and kill it with my sword just to put it out of its misery. 8/10
The Clown: NOPE. As someone who has a fear of clowns, I cannot with this character. I know it doesn't hurt you but good lord please stay away. 5/10
Hooked Doll: My favorite out of all of these. I love her design and the way she chases after you. I love how terrifying she is as well. 9/10
Frenzy: Reminds me of Shadow Bonny from FNAF. She's great for just a small jumpscare and a thing to put you more on edge. I like her design. 6/10
there ya go.
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The Head and the Heart, Part 1
I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.
This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...
Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart
Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.
Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires
WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.
Word Count: 2770
Part One: Faced with Foolishness
“Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.
“Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.
“So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.
“Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”
“And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.
“Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.
“I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.
“Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.
Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.
She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.
“Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.
Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.
Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.
Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.
She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.
Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.
Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.
“Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.
“Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.
Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.
“If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.
“But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.
“You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”
Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.
Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.
For better or worse, they were sisters.
Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.
“Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.
“Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.
“John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.
She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.
This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.
Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.
“Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”
“Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.
“Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.
Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.
Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.
Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.
“Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.
“So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”
“Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.
Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.
“Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.
“How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.
“Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.
“Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.
Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn
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Fan Flash Fiction: Gasoline Streams
Warning: Depiction of a panic attack, mentions of guns(-related violence), mild swearing
Fandom: Friday Night Funkin’
Character(s): Whitty, Updyke (implied)
Words: 310+ (more to be added.)
Extra notes: Sneak peak of a little fic I’m trying to write. No summary because it’s very short and still very much a work in progress.
It was a moonless night.
Shadows had long since crept into every crevice, and became a huge blanket that put the once roaring city to sleep. But despite that, a few flickers of light and hushes of hubbub and whispers can be heard. Once in a while, even a louder sound.
Behind a building, a fierce orange glow intertwined with a mess of glowing shapes and ever-shifting colours.
Some light bounced off of the trash cans, which barely hid the giant figure that slumped against the wall, shaking uncontrollably.
That’s what he told himself. Yet the air he was trying to choke down was burning with the putrid smell of gasoline and seemed to be cut off, just a little bit out of his reach.
Everything, everything seemed out of reach.
He hated it.
His vision was a little bit more than a blur, but he could feel and see how his thick, sticky tears were pouring down in black streams and started to leave huge, dark blotches all over his weathered blue hoodie.
He must not show weakness. So many times he had sworn to himself.
Yet what did he do? He messed up again.
Just fucking messed up again.
Was ‘that incident’ not harsh enough of a reminder?
The gun, the sharp, stinging smell of the curling smoke, the white puffs that once was a fluffy comfort for him surrounded a cold yet sympathetic glare. How much his body ached and his mind screamed and screamed at him to run yet all he could do was lie on the cold concrete.
He could barely hear the stern voice through the loud ringing, but then a certain sentence tainted with just a tinge of sadness stuck with him.:
“This is the only chance I would give you.”
The only chance…
Is he here?
Paranoia pumped more adrenaline, his heart pace rushed from thundering to threatening to burst out of his chest as he shot up to whip his head around in a frenzy, wildly scanning for any glimmers of glaring white through the thick darkness and tears.
He was alone.
That was the concept he should’ve very much grown accustomed to ever since he was still a clueless, naive baby.
Yet now, the cold, isolated feeling just burrowed deeper and deeper into the pits of his stomach.
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