#Fawn Shield-cap

[bi-writes]

what never left us | j.m.

there isn't a place dark enough to hide the things i've done for you.

type: one-shot, written in third person (no use of y/n) pairing: dark!joel miller x dark!afab!fem!reader word count: 11.7k (oops, strap in) warnings: implied age gap, extremely mature language and content, extremely mature written sexual content (see details below the cut), 🔞⚠️ summary: it isn't your fault that nobody understands how far you'll go for him; it isn't your fault that they don't understand what he is to you. complete masterlist

detailed warnings: extremely dark content ahead. includes themes of extreme violence and murder + sexual, emotional, and physical manipulation. read at your own discretion.

It was not quite clear when she realized she was not like other little girls. Her earliest memories were not the same as other women. She had no memory of life before, of dollhouses and pink tutus. She only had recollections of still-hot gun barrels and the stray bullets they left behind; she only truly remembered the pink that blood became when washed away by rainwater, and how it could stain canvas shoes the same color if she stuck out her foot to meet the flowing trails.

She had not been interested in the things that other little girls were interested in. She didn’t want to play pretend. She didn’t feel like braiding her hair or coloring pictures or reading stories. She was only fascinated by what was. By reality. By the things that shaped the world, and not the things that existed in fantasy. The scars on her fingertips from touching the sharp edges of blades too often attested too well to that fact.

The only thing she found she had in common with some other girls, finally, was the way her eyes followed other boys. She did not fawn over them as some others had. Some of them had been pretty, had smiles that were attractive, but this was where she again realized she was not the same as anyone else. Where others saw the possibility of romance, of love, of the idea of forever in one other person, she thought practically. The first boy she ever kissed was willing to trade the kiss for a box of ammo. The transaction had seemed agreeable to her then. She never saw affection or love the same way again.

Touch was a deal, a trade. It was not gentle or kind, it did not signify love or warmth or tenderness. She learned very quickly that in this new world, in the only world she had ever known, touch was scarce and a useful bartering tool. She could use it to her advantage, trick men into thinking they had control, kiss them until they dropped their guard and reap the rewards of their lust-clouded minds.

Perhaps that was why to show affection, she thought violence was her truest option.

But there was nothing romantic about this. If she looked up and tried to forget what laid underneath her, she might pretend; if the only thing in her view was the sky, then perhaps she could play along with the idea that it was just another day. But the shielded view was brief, and when her eyes dropped back to the body beneath her, all she could really do was wrench the hatchet out of the girl’s neck and clean it off against the fabric of their shirt.

The girl was pretty. She had long hair, glassy eyes, and pouty lips. She thought maybe those lips were what drew him to her. They resembled her own, the curve of them just round enough to almost look like they belonged to her. She bent down, fishing through the girl’s pockets, finding crumpled rations in one and a few pieces of contraband in another—cigarettes, a few batteries, and a tube of 20 year-old lip gloss. She clenched her jaw at the sight of it. It was strawberry flavored, and when she popped the cap open on it, she smelled the moldy, sickly artificial candy flavoring that she had noticed against the collar of his shirt just a few hours ago.

She wondered if he knew what he smelled like. She wondered if he knew she was observant enough to smell something different on him. Something new. Unwelcome. She wondered if he knew and chose not to change his shirt or decided to see how she reacted. She wondered if he knew at all how much she felt, and how easily she let it consume her entire being.

No. He was a man. He definitely had not thought that far.

She tossed the lip gloss back on top of her, standing up straight as she slipped the hatchet back into its place on her belt. She rolled her neck out, taking a few glances at her surroundings before leaving the girl to rot in a forgotten corner of the city.

No one would find her. Not for many days, at least. Perhaps it would be the smell that they would follow to her. Or maybe the rats would discover the girl first and cover her tracks better than time could.

It was dark, much too dark. It was too far past curfew to be able to use the excuses she normally used; it was too long after work shifts to pretend an extra shift ran over, and it was too early to be on her way to a morning one. So, she kept to the alleys, taking cover in doorways when she noticed lights flooding through the streets. She was small enough to fit into hidden spaces, and she used it to her advantage, slipping between buildings barely making noise. Going through undetected, being able to disappear into a crowd, blending in and fitting in and being unseen was her specialty; no one could hide better, and no one could get their hands on what she could.

Smuggling was all she knew. Since she was small, growing up on the overgrown city streets meant learning how to survive. She was not able to work enough to live, but she found that as a child, she could get through places that adults could not. With this knowledge and just a bit of bravery, she learned how to move through the city in corridors and through spaces that only she knew of. If someone needed something hidden, it would not be seen until asked for again. If someone needed something taken from one end of the city to another, she would get it there every time. She was resourceful, determined, and too good at what she did.

Even as she grew, she kept these routes to herself, even made new ones when others seemed to follow her tracks, earning herself an unrivaled reputation that too many people needed in the city to ever try and stop her. She knew many, many people; but there was only one man that she ever cared to learn the name of.

Joel.

He had heard from a friend of a friend about what it was that she did. Hiding, disappearing, moving things around, it was what he needed, and he needed the best. It was just another job, taking a bag from him, not asking questions or looking inside of it, and taking it to a secure location before dropping it off somewhere very specific on the west side of the city.

But sometimes jobs got messy. She didn’t lose the bag. She hadn’t looked inside. She hadn’t left the package in the wrong place. No, she just let the job get personal.

She was a bullet that he never saw coming. The first moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was nothing but trouble. Such pretty features she had; he couldn’t stop looking at her. Hair lovely enough to pull. Greedy lips. Eyes he could get lost in. Figure-hugging denim, with enough pockets for her to hide something dangerous. And her voice—a siren song, a soft beckoning, a sound that he would never forget again.

The look in her eyes when he met her gaze for the first time told him she was thinking just the same thing. It was hard not to. There were men, and then there was Joel. All hard lines and words that stung like venom, but she liked them that way. And so she had smiled, wet her bottom lip, and purred as she took the contraband from him—tell me where you want it. In lieu of payment, she found herself tangled between the sheets of his bed, waking up to the sight of him counting the ration cards on the table and nodding for her to leave.

She had left. But it didn’t mean she stopped coming back.

She wanted to feel bad for sleeping with him. She wanted to regret every time she left his apartment with a shakiness in her step from how rough his touch had gotten. She wanted to take herself seriously when she promised that one more night was all she needed, and then she would never come back, but she always ended up right back where she started.

It was simple; she could not stay away from him, and he would not turn her away. There was a kind of satisfaction that came with ending up in his bed. Joel had his own reputation. He was good at what he did, too, and his name was enough to make others nervous. Joel could get his hands on things that no one else could; cigarettes, drugs, even books or the nostalgia of a certain candy for the right price. He ran his business like he fucked her—quiet, deliberate, easy.

He was not known to be a kind man. Often, she heard groups talk about him with distaste, complaining about the sway of prices in contraband or how they met the wrong end of his fist for trying to undercut him. She even heard a woman cry at the way he had killed her partner, but she just licked her lips at the thought, thinking the woman had been holding back part of the story, maybe perhaps a moment when her partner tried to hold a gun up to Joel’s head and cut their deal short. Joel was not a man someone tried to subdue; he was too good at reading the room, at handling himself around a gun, at using the rough timber of his voice to make others shake under his tense gaze.

And because of this, she felt her own power in the way she could have him underneath her any night she liked. What started out as a business transaction turned into genuine attraction, into learning what his kisses felt like and how warm his hands were on her bare skin and how nice his voice sounded as it spewed profanities into her ear. She was satiated inside having influence over a feared, unruly, unforgiving man, one at her beck and call. Joel was hers. He belonged to no one else.

She just wish he understood that. Then she wouldn’t have had to dirty her favorite weapon and dull its edge. Maybe, just maybe, that girl would still be so pretty.

When she shut the door to her apartment and turned on the lights, she bit back a smile at the sight in front of her. He was there, taking up her space, legs spread as he sat at her kitchen table and sipped liquor from a chipped glass. She realized early on that Joel had no clue how attractive he really was. He had no idea how the solidness of him was enough to have her on her knees; he had no idea that the low tone of his voice could get her off alone, and that there was no other living thing in this Godforsaken world that could handle her body the way he could. She put down her backpack, making her way to him, surprised but not unwelcoming of him waiting for her like this.

She stopped in front of him, expecting him to stand and kiss her and manhandle her into her bedroom, but he just sat there still, his jaw hard and tight as he moved the glass around in his hand and watched the liquor swirl with the movement.

“Where were you?” He asked. Her excited expression faded into something a bit dismal, and she tried to not let the annoyance show on her face. She made her way into her kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and taking out her own glass. She took a seat across from him at the table, tipping the bottle over and letting the clicking of glass against glass make up the only response to his question. She took a long sip of the drink, letting it burn her throat nicely before looking at him again.

He was staring right back at her, glaring almost. Joel could be mean; he often was, even to her, but she had learned to ignore this behavior. He was mean to everyone. He was mean and cruel and impatient, but she liked that about him. It meant there was no room for fluff, for nothingness. It was all or nothing with him, and she never liked to prolong a chase. She was quite content to let him have what it was he wanted.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No?” He tilted his head to the side, laughing even, but it was dry and humorless. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Answer my fucking question.”

She tipped her head back, downing the rest of her drink before standing. She shook her hair out of the style she had put it in that morning, shaking it out before starting for her bedroom.

She didn’t make it very far. Just as quickly as she had started to walk away from him, he had caught her by the arm and slammed her up against the wall, towering over her with his height and broadness. She grunted a bit as her head hit the surface roughly, biting her tongue to not spit in his face in protest. She stared up at him angrily, but he put a forearm to her neck, holding her eyes to his so he could stare right back.

“Tell me where you were,” he muttered. “I ain’t askin’.”

She tilted her head to the side, gritting her teeth as she struggled against his obvious strength. She tried to turn her head to the side, but he pressed his arm against her throat harder, forcing her chin up just to breathe.

“What did I say?” He snapped. “Tell me.”

“Or what?” She shot back, a sick smile ghosting her face as she coughed a bit against him. “What are you gonna do, Joel? Hit me?” She snickered a bit, shaking her head as much as his grip allowed. “You won’t.” She leaned forward as much as she could, but it was close enough for her breath to warm his jaw. “You know I’d like it too much.”

He let his arm fall, his hand wrapping around the expanse of her throat and pushing her head back into the wall. She let out a hard breath at the new hold, but he was in control. He was too strong to fight against, but there was a gnawing in her belly that didn’t want to fight against this. If anything, his angry eyes were pretty, and his touch was hot, and his commanding voice was making her head dizzy with filthy thoughts. His intimidation was not having the effects he desired; he should’ve known better, should’ve known that they wouldn’t work on her at all.

“Listen to me—” He choked her a bit, almost lifting her up off her feet as he pressed her as hard as he could into the wood behind her. “If I find out you were up to no good, you won’t like what happens. I fucking mean it.”

“Yeah?” She let out with a strained breath. “You think I—You think I care, Joel?” She smiled again, a sickly sweet one that made his entire body feel hot with indifference. “If you’re going to try and scare me, you could at least not lie to me.”

“And you could try and not make fucking messes that I gotta clean up,” he growled. His eyes trailed a bit down her face, along her jaw. He lifted his thumb up, touching a speckle of something on her neck and watching it smear across her skin. Blood, still wet, painting her throat eerily. “What…what did you do?”

She felt his grip loosen just enough, and she let her eyes fall down the expanse of his face before settling on his lips. She stared at them, watching as he breathed steadily. They were a bit dry, a bit chapped, and she wanted to hydrate them, swallow him in kisses and let the night melt into morning into another forgotten day.

“Strawberry,” she whispered, licking her lips slowly.

“What?”

“It was strawberry,” she said again, a bit louder. “Strawberry lip gloss.”

Silence, and she scoffed a bit.

“I thought it was cherry,” she added, a terrifying smile on her face. Eyes sparkling with nothing but mischief, a sickening amount of enjoyment and satisfaction swimming in the depths of them. “But it was fucking strawberry…”

She finally let her eyes slowly rise to meet his, and she tilted her head to the side. She stood up on her toes, her nose touching his, their faces close enough that they could breathe each other in.

“Was it worth it, Joel?” She asked, putting a hand to his chest. “Tell me. How did she feel?”

He let her go finally, his features knitting together. A clear frown came over his face, and he stepped back from her. He still had a hand on her throat, but it laid there with no force, just holding her there. His eyes moved over her face, trying to discern what it was that she was saying. She looked so calm, too calm, and that smile on her was making him feel more uneasy with every passing second. He said her name, but his voice was so low, uncertain.

“What did you do?” He asked again. “What the fuck did you do?”

She put her hands on his chest, caressing the warmth of him for a moment. She leaned up on her toes more, her lips just barely grazing his, and he followed her instinctively, leaning towards her to try and close the space. Instead of giving in, she drew her head back just enough to deny him and pushed roughly on his chest, shoving him backwards with a grunt. She slipped the hatchet from her belt, putting the sharp edge to the middle of his chest, keeping him at a distance.

It was almost poetic, holding him there with the same blade that had sunk so deep into that girl’s carotid artery. She remembered her eyes as the life left them. She had watched as the blood that was supposed to be pumping into her pretty little brain spilled out onto the cracked floor instead, feeding nothing but air until she stilled and never moved. For someone that had gotten close to Joel, she remembered thinking that someone with so little fight in them didn’t deserve to be in his vicinity, in his circle, to breathe the same air as he did. The girl wasn’t worthy. She didn’t know how to survive. She would never have lasted, anyways.

Disposable. Naïve. Weak.

But worst of all, in my way.

“I should be asking you that question,” she murmured darkly. She let the blade drag up his chest, along the column of his throat, until it sat on the edge of his jaw. She let it dig in just slightly, forcing a low growl from him as a small bead of blood followed the invisible trail she had traced with her hatchet. She met his eyes, smiling again. “But it’s okay, Joel. I fixed things. You’ll learn.”

Because you’ll be sorry if you don’t.

She came close to him again, leaning up and putting her lips to his. Against his better judgment, he leaned closer, giving into her just like he always did. She licked into his mouth, letting the kiss warm him everywhere in all the wrong ways, and she tasted something so dirty on him. She was sure he must have tasted the same thing on her because he was desperate to keep her close, to keep kissing her, to get lost in the essence of her as he normally did. She bit down on his lip hard, drawing a hiss from him, and she pulled away slowly.

She whined with satisfaction, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him. Staring up at him, into those sad eyes, she could see no matter how much blood she had on her hands, he would end up right here, following her lips and desperate for her to touch him in any way she desired. She separated Joel from other men because of how she craved him constantly, but she was always put at ease to know she could play him just like any other.

“Now…” She stepped back, letting her hand holding the weapon lower as she tossed it onto the table beside her. “Unless you’re going to join me—” She nodded her head to the bathroom, where a cold shower was waiting for her, “—you can let yourself out.”

She didn’t look back as she made her way into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror as she heard the front door of her apartment slam shut. She smiled anyways, smoothing a hand over her neck, watching the splatters of crimson smooth over her in strange, abstract lines.

She was so pretty.

He would come back. He always did.

His name was Brian.

I think.

He was new. He had a lopsided grin on his face, an easy demeanor, and he sipped alcohol with a slight wince, meaning he had yet to really get used to the bitter taste of whiskey. He was young, but he was just like the rest of them. She guessed he had grown up amongst the groups that ran the city. He had the stench of a boy dressing up like a man, and he had an eerie confidence in his eyes. He knew nothing of how things really worked, but he believed he did, and that was why he was talking to her in a husky voice, letting his lips graze the shell of her ear as he talked sweetness into it.

Her nails drew lines against the skin of his exposed forearm. She was staring up at him, pretending to listen to what he was saying, a little smile on her face. She looked sweet, as she always did, but he had no idea the thoughts that ran through her head. He had no idea that all she was thinking about was the contraband he had promised her, and how much more she could get out of him if she batted her lashes a bit more.

He was a man that responded to her advances. This was the trade, this was the deal, and he was falling into her waiting arms. A carnivorous plant perhaps, flashing and beautiful with a sickly sweet aroma, all too wonderful until they realized the sweetness would stick them to her, and they would have nowhere to run as she ate them right up.

There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get ahead. There was no person she wouldn’t step on. There was no place dark enough to hide the red on her ledger. She had no remorse for the things she had done, and she never would.

The noise around the speakeasy was low and buzzing, and the lights were dim enough to hide the way Brian’s hands smoothed up the skin of her thighs, but her eyes were adjusted enough to meet a certain man’s gaze from across the room. At the sight of him, she leaned in, letting the stranger crowd her space, his breath warm against her cheek, her smile coy and dark and hiding her true intentions.

Joel could see right through her. He had others around him, others wanting his attention, his opinion, his time, but he couldn’t concentrate on them. His eyes were fixed on where she sat at the bar. The boy was too close to her, he knew that much. He couldn’t see underneath the bar, but he imagined that there were unwanted hands in places that only he was allowed to touch. It was infuriating how she provoked him. She knew he was there now, he had locked eyes with her, and she seemed to be urging his anger to bubble up to the surface. She seemed to want him to lose his temper, to lose his composure, to stride over and slam that kid’s face against the counter until he had no teeth left to chew his food.

She wanted Joel to be mean. She liked when Joel was mean. He had heard her say it before, heard her moan it in his ear as he practically choked her into oblivion against the wall of his bedroom. She liked Joel when he was mean, and he could only guess that at this moment, she wanted Joel to be mean for her. He clutched a lukewarm beer tight, turning away from her. She was doing this on purpose. He did not want to entertain her irritable advances.

But, God, it was so hard to focus on anything except for her. She had taken her jacket off now, revealing a black tank top that revealed all her pretty skin. She was sweating a bit in the dark summer heat, and her chest was glistening with a slight sheen, drawing eyes exactly where she wanted them. She was too good at this, too good at playing the stupid, gullible woman. She was too good at hiding how dangerous she was. She was too good at letting men think she would coo and lick and kiss when in reality, she would bite their heads off as soon as she got them alone.

She liked biting. The taste of blood only fueled the hunger in her.

But then she were gone. She had disappeared into a small corner somewhere, leaving the boy to sit at the bar and order her another drink. Joel found himself moving through the crowd, weaving between bodies until he put his empty bottle down on the wood counter and motioned for another.

“Ought’a be careful with that girl,” Joel said finally as he waited for his drink. The kid lifted his head a bit, turning to face him. He raised a brow, looking Joel up and down before shrugging.

“What, you speak for her or somethin’?”

“Reckon nobody does,” Joel muttered. “Nobody can.”

He was wrong, but he didn’t really know he was wrong.

The kid had the audacity to stand up straighter, moving a little closer to Joel, glaring a bit.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business what we do, man,” he warned. “So why don’t you fuck off before you really piss me off, yeah?”

Joel didn’t even flinch, turning his head to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw just enough to show his irritation.

“All I said was t’be careful with her. Rest is up to you,” Joel finished, taking his new drink off the counter and taking a long sip of it. The kid leaned forward a bit more, shaking his head.

“Listen, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what your problem is, but fuck off,” he said lowly. “I don’t know who she is to you, but she sure isn’t with you, so I’m gonna take her out back, have my fucking way with her, and you’re gonna leave us alone. Because if I see your fucking face again, I won’t hesitate.”

Joel just smirked a bit, shaking his head before taking another sip of his drink. The boy had no idea who she was; he was so new that he had yet to learn her name, and it would be a mistake he would never forget, a lesson he would remember forever. She was all sharp nails and teeth, camouflaged in figure-hugging jeans and a beautiful smile, and the boy would learn too late how volatile she really was.

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

As Joel made his way back to his old spot on the other end of the room, he passed right by her. She let her hand catch his arm, dragging along the length of it. Her fingers brushed through his, almost intertwining, before making her way to her seat. He followed her figure as she took a seat again, whispering in the boy’s ear, something that made the kid smile and nod his head to the door behind her. She slid off the stool, her hand in his as they both disappeared out the back. Her eyes found Joel’s, and all she did was lick her lips visibly before the door shut behind them.

She knew he would follow. She knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. She knew he would open the back door just a bit, just to watch her as she took the package from the boy towering over her. She pocketed it, staring up at him as she slipped the small package into her bra, a sultry smile on her face as he got close to her. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, two hands gripping her waist and shoving her into the hard brick of the wall behind her. She made a small sound of protest, but Joel knew she was playing a part. It was too easy, the kid was too comfortable; besides, Joel couldn’t remember the last time a man other than himself got the upper hand on her.

She sucked in a warm breath when she felt his two hands grip her ass possessively, forcing her to spin around and slamming her face into the rough wall behind her. She felt the rubble cut her face a bit, but she wasn’t worried at all by the compromising position. She could see Joel, staring from the crack in the door, and as the kid’s hands wandered to the front of her jeans, the door was kicked open hard, smacking against the wall behind it as Joel dumped the beer still left in the bottle and smashed the glass against the back of the boy’s head.

She smiled a bit, turning around slowly. The bottle made a sickening crunch when it shattered against the back of the boy’s head; his knees buckled instinctively, and he clutched the opposite wall for balance as he tried to regain his focus. She leaned against the wall as she watched Joel pick up the kid by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the brick over and over and over again. One large hand fisted through his short hair, using it as leverage to bring his face down against the rough, cracked surface of the wall. The sounds were unforgiving; bone crunching, struggling and pained breaths, the clatter of teeth as they fell against the pavement, hurried and spit apologetic words for mercy.

She let her fingers drag down the back of her neck, over her chest, and she bit her lip hard to keep from letting out a satisfied whine as she watched this man lose all of his constraint, all of his control, all of his poise just for her.

Just for her. All for her. Anything for her.

She had never seen this look in his eyes. Joel was hovering over her, staring down at her as he took shallow, angry breaths, finally letting the broken beer bottle fall to the ground with a loud clunk. She took her bottom lip between her teeth again, her eyes falling over his face in the low light of the street. His features were lit only by moonlight, but it didn’t hide the depth of his disapproval. It took everything in her not to let out a sound as he raised a hand to put a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face up to his to bring her just that much closer.

“Is this what you fucking wanted?” He asked. His voice was a rumbling, deep whisper, and if she was anyone else, it would’ve terrified her. Instead, she just met his eyes easily, wetting her lips and letting a little laugh slip out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Is this what you wanted?!”

She shrugged a bit, not cowering even a little under his hard glare. She seemed to enjoy it, too much for his liking.

“I mean…I’m not thrilled…” She sighed deeply, looking down where the body laid beneath their feet. “It’s gonna be a pain in the ass to find another contact.”

Joel gripped her face harshly, his large hand suffocating most of her face as he squished it hard, making her look at him.

“That’s what you’re fucking worried about? Not having a goddamn contact?” He scoffed. “You don’t wanna talk about how you fucking let this boy put his hands on you? And that you didn’t do a damn thing about it?”

She shrugged again.

“You were here,” she said easily. “I knew you’d take care of it. You always do.”

Take care of it.

She knew Joel would not be able to help himself. She knew he would lose his temper just at the thought, and she knew what he might do when he saw it with his own eyes. She let it happen; she enjoyed it.

“You knew I’d kill the fucking kid—” Joel pressed his forehead to hers, unsure whether he should kill her, too, or kiss her. “—you knew what I might do. That’s why you did it.” He smoothed his hand up her face, across her cheek, into her hair. She let out a soft whine as he tugged harshly on it, his fingers tangled between the strands. “You don’t even fucking care.”

She shook her head, agreeing with him. It was true. She didn’t care. The boy was nobody, not to her. He didn’t matter. He was blood and flesh and uselessness, and nothing about him mattered. If anything, he would do more good fertilizing the dirt beneath him.

That’s what he was to her. That’s what everyone was to her, except for Joel. They were beneath her; blips on the same timeline as her, molded skin and pulp and bone and thoughts that would never mean anything. They either served her a use, or they were simply disposable.

“You’re right, I don’t care,” she echoed. “He’s nothing, Joel.”

Joel swallowed hard, pulling back to look at her. She stared up at him just the same. He dragged a thumb over her wet bottom lip, tracing the skin there. He shook his head slightly, his face almost saddening at the sight of her. She was too pretty for the twisted thoughts inside of her head. She was too beautiful to think so little of others, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her. The possessiveness, the need, it fed the demons that lived in him, and he could feel them growing. She was no good for him; in fact, she would probably be the death of him, but he liked the feelings that scorched his insides when he did things for her.

Dirtying hands, wringing necks, forcing broken glass into soft flesh—doing it with purpose had only made the violence easier. This was not romance, it was evil, pure death and smoke and malice that would fester the longer Joel stayed by her side. Everyone thought it was Joel blackening her insides. They had no idea how torn apart she was from the inside out, and how her pretty features only made the vicious woman inside of her that much easier to ignore.

If they could see what swirled in her eyes now, they would hide in their brick houses. If they knew the kind of blood she had on her hands, they would never make the mistake of crossing her again. If they knew how easily she decided life and death, they would probably hang her.

“You killed that girl,” Joel accused her lowly. “Didn’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side slightly, parting her lips and letting out a soft breath.

“What girl?”

She grunted as Joel yanked at her hair, pulling at it hard enough to make her head throb.

“Don’t play games with me,” he commanded. “I know it was you.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Joel,” she cooed, smiling up at him. “You know me. A lot of girls cross me. A lot of girls try and take what’s mine. It’s not my fault they have no idea what’s coming.”

It’s not my fault they don’t understand how far I’ll go just to prove a fucking point.

She spat out the last sentence, gritting her teeth as her eyes darkened. He pursed his lips, letting go of her only to nod down the alleyway.

He was motioning for her to start moving, and she did so without protest. She could feel his eyes boring a hole into her back, and every so often, she made sure to shake her hair out a bit and let her hips move with her slow steps. It was dark, and she had to keep to the shadows, and when the sound of a truck passing forced them to hide, she made sure to press her back to the front of him as they both used the backside of the building they were passing through as cover. He let out a sound of disapproval, but his hand still came up to hold her waist, and there was no mistaking the feeling of him against her.

Joel might’ve been a steel wall of hardened resolve, but he had his weaknesses. He was still a man, after all.

And God, what a man he was. As soon as the apartment door shut behind her, he was on her. Filthy, bloodied hands in her hair, lips biting into hers, knee shoving her legs apart as she used the wall to balance herself. She let her eyes flutter shut, savoring the taste of beer and warmth and maybe stale cigarettes. He tasted good, just like he always did, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she sunk her weight down onto his thigh, dragging her hips in eager grinds. The friction of the denim of her jeans against his felt too good, and she let her voice spill satisfied whines and gasps into his ear whenever their lips parted.

“Can’t fucking believe you—” Joel muttered between kisses. “—there’s something so fucking wrong with you—” She slipped her tongue into his mouth, covering his lips with hers, giving him nothing but sloppy, wet kisses that was making it hard for him to breathe. She put both hands on his chest finally, pushing him back and off of her, staring up at him with a little smile as she forced him to walk backwards until his knees hit the back of the couch. She rested both hands on either side of him as she dropped herself into his lap. “You’re not listening to a goddamn word I’m saying—”

She kissed him again, swallowing his words, letting them die on his tongue as she guided both of his hands to grab both sides of her ass and squeeze. She moaned into his mouth, letting her senses be consumed by him.

The touch of him, his touch on her, leaving nothing but hot, wet skin in their wake. The way he smelled, a bit like fire, maybe blood, something so him and so dark and so utterly good that her mouth was watering. The taste of him, so bitter and tangy. The sound of his gruff voice, groaning and grunting and whispering filthy words as she dragged her hips just how he liked. And fuck, the sight of him—brown eyes blown wide with desire, the filth and grime of today’s work enveloping her as his arms covered her in their security. He was a man too overwhelming to take in all at once, but she was trying, and it was killing her.

How could he not see that she was the only one that could handle him? How could he not see that there wasn’t another woman in this entire fucked-up world that could understand him the way she could?

How can he not understand that he’s mine?

She pulled away from his kiss reluctantly, but her lips found the edge of his jaw. She lapped at the skin under it, dragging her touch up to just under his ear, just where he liked. She found the hollow with her tongue, the place that made him hiss and grit his teeth and buck his hips up into hers, and she delved into the space there with as much fervor as her swollen lips allowed. She pulled a harsh groan from him, his hands slipping up her waist, her top coming with it to reveal her bare skin underneath. She let him lift the fabric over her head and toss it aside, and she adjusted the bra she wore, letting his eyes wander low and admire the sight.

“You’re gawking,” she panted, putting a hand to his chest. She tilted her head to the side, bringing her other hand up and running her fingers along the edge of the dark material, his eyes following eagerly. She leaned in, to talk into the skin of his cheek. “You can touch, Joel. You can rip it off of me…you can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours…” She sat up in his lap, and he mouthed at the skin of her breasts spilling out of her bra, wet kisses that were making her realize she was soaking through her jeans now. “You can take whatever you want from me, Joel. You don’t even have to ask.”

It was true. She never wanted him to ask. Sometimes, she would stare at him from across a room and wish that he could saunter over and just take her against the wall she leaned against. She wished he would bend her over her kitchen table and not give her any warning before burying himself so deep, she felt him in her guts. She prayed that he would wake her up with a hand on her throat, his teeth against her ear, and his hips drilling into hers as his way of fucking a good morning into her.

I wish he would see that everything I am belongs to him, and that all I want is for him to just take and take and take from me.

She fiddled with her belt as Joel took care of her bra, tossing it aside. She liked how he paid such attention to her bare skin, how he kissed and sucked and breathed against the precious parts of her now exposed for him to taste. He lifted her hips to slide her jeans off, nearly ripping her panties as she tried to take those off just as eagerly. She was completely bare, naked in his lap, but she made no move to undress him.

There was something so enticing in the air. Joel, fully clothed and letting his hands wander and squeeze and grope and touch her everywhere, while all she could do was whine and tug on his curls and lick over his lips—it created a power dynamic that had her leaking onto his jeans, darkening the denim until he hissed, feeling the damp fabric against his skin. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him hotly, begging him with soft words not to move away from her, to hold her tighter, to fuck her silly.

She gripped his shoulders tight, starting to pant with need as she rocked her hips into him with more force. He had barely ghosted a few fingers over her, but she was eager to come, in any way he would let her, and as he sat back with a smug look on his face, she realized he wanted her to ride him just like this, to get herself off pathetically fast without even seeing any part of him naked. She felt the denim smooth against her pulsing clit, and it only drove her hips faster against his, her face dropping to rest in the crook of his neck as she chased what she could only hope was her first high of the night.

Soft, wet, palpitating, every part of her aching with need, he could feel it. As she found her breath again, just after wetting his lap with her bliss, he had shoved two fingers deep into her, thick digits spreading her open and making her whine with overstimulation. He fit his thumb over her clit, watching her jaw go slack as she let her hips chase his hand. She was just reacting, her body absentmindedly following his every move, responding to him as he knew she would, and it was raw and wretched and pulling at every part of her.

But it was an act. It was a show. She was just pretending. Even though it looked every bit like she was just the submissive, pathetic, whining, pretty girl Joel was fucking at the moment, she knew that she had this man wound so tightly around her finger. Although he spoke the filthiest words and was making her wet his hand with need, he was hers to do with in any way she wanted. All she had to do was bat her lashes, kiss him soft, and beg, and he would give her whatever she asked for.

Whatever I want, whatever I need, whatever it is that my little heart desires—he will do it for me. And it won’t matter who has to die or who he has to hurt or who he has to step over to get it.

As much as it seemed Joel overpowered her, she was the one who painted the picture. Whispering in his ear, guiding his hands, telling him what he needed to hear. He could growl in her ear all he liked, but it never convinced her otherwise. She knew this was true; even despite what he knew about her, even despite all the lies she told, he was still here. He was kissing her, pumping his fingers inside of her and drawing soft moans from her, and she knew he would give into her like he always did.

Joel could pretend he was done with her as much as he liked; but he would come back for her eventually.

“Please—” She begged, throwing her hips down against his hand, feeling full but not full enough. “Please, Joel…I need more…”

“Now you’re begging?” He scoffed, sucking roughly on the edge of her jaw. “Now you wanna listen to me? Is that it, sweetheart?” She nodded in response, whining, pawing at his shoulders to get herself even closer, melt into him if it was possible. “Maybe you don’t deserve it.”

“Joel—!” She gasped, shaking her head. “I-I do…I do!” She brought his lips back to hers, breathing in his groans as she let her hands wander between their bodies, her hands finding the outline of him and squeezing eagerly. “I do deserve it…”

If it was possible, his eyes darkened, a black hue of anger and lust that made her heartbeat pick up faster. He tilted his head to the side, leaning close, his lips kissing just under her ear, mouthing there as he curled his fingers and shoved his fingers so deep, she stifled a scream. His other hand tangled into her hair, gripping her tight, making sure she understood that she was at his mercy, and not her own.

“Listen here—” He tugged on her hair until her eyes met his, and she let out a gentle sob of need. “Look at me—there you go, give me those eyes—” He put her forehead to his, and she spread her palms against his chest, feeling the warmth and broad expanse of him. “If you think for one second that you deserve more, you’ve got it all wrong.” He licked over his bottom lip, shaking his head. “I know what you did. I know that it was you.”

She arched her back, pressing her bare chest to his own, his flannel feeling so soft against her hot skin. She tried to grind her hips, but his other hand dropped from the back of her neck to her waist, keeping her still.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snapped. “You’re not sorry.”

She let out a shaky breath, shaking her head.

“I’m not sorry for doing it,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for making you upset.” She cupped his cheeks, kissing him warmly, using her weight to push him back against the couch. As they kissed, she felt his grip loosen just enough, and she moved her hips again. His fingers flexed inside of her, his thumb finding her clit and making her moan softly with relief. “I’m sorry for making a mess, Joel. I’m sorry for making you mad…” She moved her hips a bit faster, riding his fingers as her apology, giving him the moans he wanted to hear and drenching his lap to show him how sorry she really was. “I-I’m sorry for letting him touch me…”

“Fuck—” He kissed her back eagerly, trying to find serenity here. It was impossible with her. She was all heat and fire, all bite and sharp edges. There was no calm with her, no peace. Chaos followed her, and sex was a vice that she used with fervor. She didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t running. She had no idea what life was like without risk, without blood, without the good, bad things that had her on an adrenaline high constantly. If she came down, if she stilled for even a second, Joel feared what might be left of her. He feared he might not recognize her. He feared that without her pretty face painted with that sick, sweet smile, he might not like who remained.

Reluctantly, she pried his hand from between her legs. She slipped dirty fingers between her lips, licking her arousal off his calloused hand. She kept her eyes on his as she ran her tongue over his knuckles. They were bruised, split probably from wrenching answers from some poor soul or perhaps the boy he had pried off of her, and she soothed the bite of his wounds with wet kisses and her soft tongue. She let his hand go, letting her own slip between their bodies and work on his confining belt.

“Now you listen, Joel,” she murmured, undoing the buckle, listening to the metal clink as she loosened the denim around his waist. “If I ever find out about anyone else touching you, I won’t hesitate to do it again—” She cupped him roughly, drawing a grunt from him, and she smiled darkly. “You can’t hide anything from me. And you’re stupid if you think you can—” She swiped a thumb over the tip of him, spreading the slight dampness there over him. “—and I’ll kill every woman in this God-awful place just to prove my point.”

She kissed him, letting her tongue find his. She lowered herself in his lap, the heaviness of him in her hand making her feel even warmer inside. She let go of him, putting both hands on his shoulders as she sat down on him, feeling him slip between her folds. She grinded down against him, smoothing her slick over him and watching his face twist with need and want and rising anger at her words.

She gripped his jaw roughly, gritting her teeth.

“You’re mine, Joel—” She put her thumb to his bottom lip, forcing his mouth open. She gathered wetness in her mouth, leaning forward and spitting right onto his tongue. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated as he swallowed the spit she gave him easily. It tasted like her, like the cunt he adored too much, and if he wasn’t so embarrassingly hard between her folds, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to put his face between her thighs. She was such a filthy, sweet, delectable woman for him, and it twisted his insides in terrifyingly good ways. “—and I’ll kill you, too, if you don’t stop testing my fucking patience.”

This was what really drove her crazy. They were fabric cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin. Instead of soothing the fires inside of her, he set them ablaze. The kiss they shared was all teeth, all bite, all rough breaths and filthy curses. They were both fighting for control over each other.

He pressed her into the couch, her back against the worn cushions. He gripped her hard, one hand on the back of her neck and the other gripping the outside of her thigh, her legs wrapped around his waist as he finally sunk into her with no warning. She let out a gentle cry of relief, enveloping him and squeezing around him as he buried himself until his hips were pressed to hers, his mouth at her jaw as he gave her no time to adjust. The feeling of him filling her to the brim, stretching her in every good way, would never be enough. She needed more, needed him inside of her, tangled around her, filling all her senses until it was all she knew.

“Can’t even call you a good girl—” Joel grunted, beginning a grueling pace as he fucked her into the couch, not letting up for even a moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her back, trying to meet his thrusts with equal power, but it wasn’t fair. Joel was too hard, too rough, too overpowering, and she was failing as she tried to keep up with him. “Cause you’re not—you’re not a fucking good girl—”

She mewled, pressing her lips to his, trying to drink in his words and taste them and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. She arched her back more, pressing herself tight against him, and she moaned as he mouthed at her breasts, sucking the skin there and leaving soft bruises as he dragged his teeth against her.

“You’re always up to no good,” he kept growling. She panted, dropping her head back a bit as he kept up his pace. His hips were hitting her hard, punctuated by his words, and she closed her eyes to savor the stretch, the roughness, the perfection of his cock molding her insides to his. The squelch of skin on skin was so lewd, but it only made her wetter. “Always gettin’ into trouble…my pretty girl—”

My. Mine. She’s mine.

She was sin in one woman. She was the personification of every horrid, murderous thought Joel had ever had. She was the embodiment of his nightmares, the devil in disguise, the incarnation of the scars on his heart and the blood under his fingernails and the notches on his belt and the tick, tick, tick of the timer on his inner clock, the one he knew would break when he went just too far. Maybe that was why he loved her so much. Maybe that was why every part of her made him hot and bothered and needy. Maybe that was why Joel could not stay away from her.

Maybe that was why no matter what atrocity she committed, he never saw her as anything but his, and his only. He never saw her as tainted. Or evil. Or impure. She was just his, and that was enough.

That was perfect.

Perfection.

That was what her cunt had to be. It was perfection. Joel would drown in it if she wanted him to, if she allowed him to. He thought, selfishly, that relinquishing breath just for one more taste of her would be a kinder death than the one that probably waited for him. He thought about this as he nudged her head back onto the arm of the couch, going for the warm skin of her neck, biting it, kissing it. He wanted to bruise her and mark her, so darkly that she would find them in the mirror days from now and think of him.

He didn’t stop her as she threw her arms around his neck and brought their lips back together. She was whispering softly between kisses and whines, rocking her hips against his with just as much force. They were sloppy together. He had both hands on her hips, manhandling her taut flesh as he drove her body back to his again and again and again. She was so wet, dripping between them, a weeping cry from her own body that told him she needed him so badly, she would do anything to have him.

“Oh, now you’re quiet, honey?” He muttered in her ear, reaching up and putting his hand around her neck again. She sputtered as he sat back on his heels, yanking her with him, holding her up in his lap as he brought her body down on him over and over again. He looked up at her, at the pretty bounce of her on top of him, limp to his touch and crying for him. “Look at you—” he groaned, feeling the walls of her clench and squeeze and suck him in, telling him all too well how much she liked this, “—can’t even fucking speak—ugh—” he kissed her hard, “—have I fucked the brat out of you yet?”

“Joel—please—” she begged, letting out a soft sob of relief as his thrusts got shallower, faster. “O-Oh…” She put her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, feeling the scratch of his beard rough against her palms. She met his eyes, could see the shine and the darkness of them, and she leaned forward to kiss him softly. Despite the grueling pace Joel had set, despite the bruising smack of his hips against hers, her kiss was delicate and sweet, taking his breath away. She was too good at that, at making him feel. “Joel…” She sniffled, tears coming down her face at how good he felt. “Joel, I need you…”

She was so pretty. It was all he could think about. He caged over her again against the cushions, this time with his lips against hers and his body towering over her, the warmth of him and space of him enveloping her. He wasn’t fucking her anymore, this was something else. He hiked her legs around his hips, grinding deep, his pace slow but his thrusts just as heavy. She needed him. Just a few words, spoken through her lips, and Joel was soft. Petting her tangled hair, kissing her warmly, pressing his cock deep into her and staying there for just a few moments before pulling out slightly and doing it all over again. He drew long, relaxed moans from her, and he breathed deeply as he thought about how much her cunt felt like heaven.

He didn’t know how it was possible. She was not an angel, anything but; everything she touched blackened to its core. But he couldn’t think of another word to call her, to call this. He only felt this searing pleasure in his dreams.

And buried between her legs.

“I-I love you, Joel,” she purred, arching her back. Her chest pressed to his, and he couldn’t help but dip his head and lick the sheen of sweet that had gathered between her breasts. Salty, dirty, entirely her, and he dipped his head again to suck her breast into his mouth and smooth his tongue over her nipple. She cradled his head to her chest, panting now, her thighs shaking a bit as she met his eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, a haze in them that was cloudy and drunk with bliss. There was lust, more than anything else. If there was love there, Joel had no idea; he had never seen what loved looked like in her eyes.

He didn’t think it was possible for her to love anything. And perhaps it wasn’t. She thought it was love. To her, nothing else could explain how she behaved around him. The obsession with him, the possessiveness that overcame her, the protectiveness she felt whenever he came home with new wounds that would scar, the revenge she sought when anyone touched him. She didn’t care whether those touches were warm or kind. He was hers, and she would make them sorry for putting their hands on him.

She tugged his face back to her, feeling that coil in her belly tighten and tighten. She put her forehead to his, licking over his bottom lip before kissing him hard. One hand slid to press between his shoulder blades, the other pushed against his lower back, a silent gesture to get him as close to her as possible.

His breaths became more broken and shallower. She arched her back into him, pebbled nipples poking him as he snaked an arm under her and used this new position as leverage to fuck up into her at a quicker, more aggressive pace. He punched into her again and again, quickening with every breath as he chased the mind-numbing feeling that was growing in him. She squeezed him, her entire body trembling slightly as she tried to take every thrust, but they were both losing to each other, in the feeling of one another. She gripped his biceps now, her nails digging in hard enough to elicit a harsh hiss from him. She could feel blood, but it didn’t faze her—she wanted to mark him, scar him, until no other woman could have him like this.

If another woman held him there, they’d feel her hands, where her nails dug into him, and they’d know they were preying on another woman’s territory—one they would not live to speak of. She thought of this as he fucked her into a pleasure-drunk headspace, her high blinding her. She didn’t even register the scream that left her until Joel was kissing her quiet, swallowing the sounds, drinking in the cries of her ecstasy and tasting her mewls. It was like her cunt was taunting him, begging him, scolding him for not coming just yet—it took only another whimper of his name for him to collapse on top of her in a fit of groans.

She thought she might have come again when he did, it felt so good. Her thighs shook, her body molding to his as she felt him sinking deeper into her, so snug, his spent trapped in her as they both refused to move away from each other. When he tried to move off of her, she kissed him, making a soft sound of protest and keeping him close.

“Don’t go—” she gasped, slipping one hand low and gripping the back of his thigh, coaxing him to slide deep again and settle there. “Fuck—” She craned her neck to bury her face into the side of his, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. She chased the closeness of him, the muskiness that the air around him held. She never wanted to leave this place. She wanted to stay here forever, Joel cock-deep inside of her, and she wanted him to keep her here and never let her leave. She wanted him to chain her ankles to this place and force her to stay, naked and waiting. She wanted him to use her, to never let her go, to be selfish and mean and merciless with her until she was nothing but his, his, his.

She wanted to forget her name. She wanted to lose her memories of the outside world and confine them to these four walls. She wanted to kill the sad things inside of her and focus only on the pleasure and the love and the unforgiving warmth that settled inside of her whenever she was underneath him like this.

She wanted to sink her teeth into his flesh and bite it, sustain herself only on Joel and whatever he would feed her. Because she knew she was dying inside, and only this feeling could save her.

She could not explain why she felt nothing inside when she did the things she did. She was not sorry for anything. She felt no regret or shame or sorrow. She didn’t think she could’ve done things differently or spoken softer or spared any more lives. The only time she felt even remotely human was like this—with Joel connected to her in the most intimate way possible. Then, for a few moments, she felt warm in her chest. She felt vulnerable. She felt new—as if she had been born again and was learning the differences between happy and sad, angry and alone, deep love and utter hatred. She felt all of those things with him and nowhere else, and she would fight tooth and nail to keep him here, with her, always.

There was no one she wouldn’t kill for him. No one she wouldn’t torture, no one she wouldn’t crush under her booted toes. In fact, she would take pleasure in it. She would seek out the feeling. Just like she did with the pretty girls that put their hands on him. Just like she would again.

Because she knew it would happen again. She didn’t know when or how or why, but she knew there would be more girls that would try and lure him in, more men that would try and cross him, but she would be ready for them. Because he was all hers.

They would learn quickly what that meant and the distance she would go to keep it that way.

She turned over, in bed now, laying on her back, her head settling against the pillow. He was turned to face her, their eyes meeting for just a moment before they went back to looking over each other. She reached over gently, her scarred knuckles meeting his cheek and running slowly down the skin there. Her eyes were soft, softer than he had ever seen before. She was looking over him, studying him in the light of the moon, letting herself commit the moment to memory. Something about it felt romantic; something about this made her feel something akin to emotion. She thought maybe this was why she cared too much for him.

He was the only man who had ever made her feel anything at all.

“So is this how it’s gonna be?” He asked lowly. His voice was gravelly and quiet, but it was still heavy with feeling. She met his eyes, her thumb circling over the apple of his cheek. “You don’t like how someone acts ‘round me, and you just…get rid of ‘em?”

She turned more, fully facing him, letting her thumb roam to trace the line of his nose.

“This isn’t…you,” he said finally, and this got a reaction from her. She laughed a bit, bitterly, shaking her head.

“Then you have no idea who I really am, Joel,” she murmured. She let her thumb fall to trace his upper lip gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone else. If you didn’t know that by now, then you haven’t really been paying attention.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, closing her eyes gently, breathing in the Joel that remained in the early hours of the morning.

“And I know that it’s you, too.”

“Wasn’t always me,” he muttered. When she opened her eyes, she saw a flicker of something in the way he looked away from her. Guilt. Abandonment, maybe. It was the faraway of losing something he had tried to hold onto. “Whatever I am now…wasn’t always me.”

She shook her head, leaning her head to rest against his shoulder.

“If you think…the way the world is now to blame for who we are, you’re wrong, Joel,” she said softly. “I don’t remember what it was like. Before.” She put her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve always been like this. And so have you.” He moved his head to look at her, frowning, and she shrugged simply. “The before…all it did was hide you.”

Joel looked away, back to the ceiling. She was right. As much as he wanted to think otherwise, to believe that the end of the world was to blame for the man that he had become, the thought would be wrong. Inside of him had always been the man he was. The man that made the tough decisions. The man that killed someone before dinner and fucked the woman he loved later that same day. The man that bartered and tortured and murdered and crushed and fought like hell—this man was someone that had always lived inside of him—judge, jury, and executioner. There had just never been an opportunity for that man to come apart, to come alive, to manifest itself into the hungry, angry thing that clung to him now, the man that had never left him. Unlike her, the man he was had been dormant, hiding among the memories of his daughter and the life he once loved. She had always been this way; she never had a need to hide her ugly thoughts away, it was a person that had never left her. They thrived. They kept her alive.

A soft kiss to the side of his face made him blink the thoughts away. Another kiss brought him back to earth.

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered. “I love you more than anything.”

But now he believed her. In her own sick, twisted way, she did love him. In the horrid things that lived in her head, he was there, bubbly and bright and bathed in pretty lights. She was not good for him. She would turn him black and blue inside, she would take all the good that still rested in him, and she would bury it deep.

And selfishly, he wanted to do the same to her. So, “me…me, too, darlin’,” was what he said back to her. Because—fuck­­—if anyone was going to truly ruin her, it was going to be him.

He would make sure of that.

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[sinfulsalutations]

𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕒 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪, 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕘𝕠 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

ᴘᴛ ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇ. ᴘᴛ ɪɪ ꜱᴛᴀᴠᴇ. ᴘᴛ ɪɪɪ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ. ᴘᴛ ɪᴠ ꜱɪɴ. ᴘᴛ ᴠ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ. ᴘᴛ ᴠɪ ꜱᴇɴᴅᴏꜰꜰ.

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ꜱᴇʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴇɴᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜰʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴄᴏᴜɴꜱᴇʟᴏʀ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴀᴜ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀ ᴡᴀʀꜱ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, (ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ) ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ, ᴀᴡᴋᴡᴀʀᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ, ꜱᴋɪɴɴʏ ᴅɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴠ-ʟɪɴᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ/ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ)

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 2.9ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

⋆ ★ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜰᴇꜱᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴍ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ. ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴍᴘꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʜʏᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ/ʙʀᴀɪɴꜱᴛᴏʀᴍɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ, ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ :) ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

“1!”

“2!”

“3!”

“4–”

Two people call the number out simultaneously, audible groans leaving multiple girls as they have to start over. Water ripples around you, hands in a steady grip around your oar as you watch your campers row their way across the lake in front of you. Your eyes flit to Omega leading the group with a bright, excitable stare, dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a cap shielding her face from the glaring sun.

“It’s alright, everyone!” She beams, careening back and forth as she rows. “We can start over!”

With a smile, you nod and add,

“As long as we don’t fall too behind.” You gesture ahead of you, toward the obscured view of a cluster of canoes no doubt belonging to the Cedar cabin. At the mere mention of them, the girls groan and row faster; they don't wish to face the scrutiny they’d be subjugated to by those immature, adolescent boys.

Not that they weren’t all too dissimilar.

You could swear no matter how many times you’ll force them to clean up and clear the floors of the Maple Cabin, it’ll once again become a disheveled heap of clothes and personal belongings by the time it’s lights out. Omega began to help you lead, reminding them as they leave the bathroom not to leave all their possessions on the counter and shower rack and to toss their clothes in the laundry pile. 

She’s helpful, no doubt. You’ll have to ask Tech to promote her to CIT next year.

They start the game again.

“1!”

“...2!”

“3!”

“4!”

There’s a pause.

“5.”

“6!”

“7–”

“Oh, come on! ” Betty whines. You can’t help but giggle silently and look down so no one sees your smile.

It’s not long before you near the Cedar Cabin and hear their attempt at the game still going on. In the corner of your eye, Hannah gawks while Omega scrunches her nose.

“22!”

“23!”

“24!”

“25!”

“26–”

This time, when two people call out the same number simultaneously, just as Maple had done before, they only groan playfully and say confident affirmations of ‘we’ll get it next time,’ flashing a mischievous glint toward the girls. Omega tries to hide the grit of her teeth. You can tell she’s not pleased, however. 

But there’s no time to focus on that when you hear that husky voice.

"Having trouble?”

You look to your right, then immediately look away with instinct, hiding your widening eyes. 

He’s wearing a tank top.

Hunter is a new counselor this year. Alongside all of his brothers and sister, Omega, he’s already become a new favorite. Every night by the campfire once he’s finished leading the camp in songs, Cedar and Sycamore Cabin crowd around him, asking him to teach them guitar or how to carve wood as good as he does, where he gets his cool maroon-colored bandanas and the story behind his striking skeleton tattoo on one side of his body. Even the girls have begun fawning over him; Cilla and Betty frequently ask Omega questions about her older brother, not-so-discreetly calculating the age difference between them. The older girls in the Pine cabin don’t shy away from blatant flirting, always asking him for help to apply sunscreen before a day of swimming, twirling their hair as he tells them not to get in too much trouble.

He’s agreeable, he’s handsome, he’s incredibly good with kids; it seems as though the entire camp can’t help but swarm.

You, however? You can’t even look him in the eye.

If you did, you're pretty sure you would dissolve into a buzzing mess.

“Yeah, they haven’t made it past ten yet,” You tell him, readjusting your cap a little lower to bedim your face further. It’s not the sun that’s making your cheeks so hot.

“Hm.” It’s just a hum that comes out of his voice, rumbling his chest. You take another slow breath and begin rowing again. You call out to your girls, telling them to move forward now that you’ve caught up with the rest. As you follow behind, the looming shadow of Hunter’s figure remains on your right. He’s not looking in your direction, and you’re not so disillusioned to think otherwise, but you still feel passing looks, occasional yet piercing. Like he’s trying to pinpoint the features under your cap.

“Well, alright, Maple,” He says. “I see Crosshair by the shore with his boys. We shouldn’t keep `him waiting.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t,” You agree, silently exhaling darkly and rowing beside him in continued silence.

-

The hike takes longer than usual; between detours for campers to do their business awkwardly behind a tree and the younger boys straying from the group getting lost about halfway through, Crosshair is left almost ready to burst. The sight of him so irritated is amusing, no doubt, but you know not to even try to interact with him unless you want an arrow right between your eyes. Why he always carry his bow with him, you're still unsure.

“Alright, everyone, get out your jars,” You instruct the group after reaching the top of the hill, creating a circle in the clearing. The sky is still painted with passionate oranges and yellows, but in just a few minutes the sun will descend and what you’re waiting for shall appear.

“Remember, be careful once you do catch them,” Hunter reminds everyone. Your eyes can’t help but flicker in his direction; it’s instinct to look at whoever’s talking; with Hunter, you've still yet to learn not to. “Don’t shake the jar too hard, don’t cover the airholes, and remember to let them out before we all leave. Understood?”

“Yes, Hunter!”

The yellows and oranges slowly darken as the night arrives promptly, blanketing you all in darkness. Until, only a few moments later, there is a small blink of lime. Then another. Then five. All around you, do the fireflies beacon your spot, fluttering around you in swarms. There are awes, mostly from the girls as the boys mutter emasculated versions of reverence, which you can’t deny makes you laugh.

With the twinkles of lights wrapped around you, you slowly open your jar to catch a few effortlessly. Betty turns your way, astonished, which seems to attract the attention of Cilla and Hilary as well.

“How did you do it so easily?” Hilary asks.

You grin, looking down at your jaw with a soft look of humility.

“I did this all the time when I was your age,” You explain. “And a lot more times after that. Practice.”

Their mouths form tiny o-shapes and they nod, quickly going to try and catch a few themselves.

“Where did Omega run off to?” You say them before you lose their attention.

Kayla points to where Crosshair stands stiffly. 

“With her brother. I think she’s trying to get him to do it too.”

You look over as the girls skitter off. Omega still has that sweet smile of hers as she holds up his wrists in a tight grip, mouth moving to tell him what no doubt is an encouragement to try himself. Crosshair still has a frown on his face but does as she says, and his face slowly softens when he catches one without any hesitation with just his hand.

"Good job!" She cheers, before calling out, "Hunter, look! Crosshair caught one!"

The firefly flickers in his palm, the lime seeping through the small air holes between his fingers.

"Wasn't too bad, right?" Omega tilts her head, smiling as she watches Crosshair's expression play out. His eyes remain glued to his hand.

"It wasn't," He responds.

It’s not very long before he lets it go.

It gives you time to look back down at your jaw, lifting it up to your face. You tilt your head in fascination, and you don't even realize the smile creeping up on you until your cheeks begin to hurt a little.

“Having’ a good time?”

Your heart leaps, then your instinct does that stupid thing again and turns to the sound of Hunter’s voice (How do you forget that he’s still attached to that gorgeous body?). You look back instantly.

“I am,” You mutter, looking up to see the fireflies flit through the night. Striking against the navy sky, they still don’t manage to brighten the night enough for you to get a clear view of anyone’s face. Hunter included. At least that makes this easier.

“Your girls seem to be having fun.”

Even in the darkness, the fleeting lights manage to give you a sight of Hannah catching her first firefly, smiling proudly before turning to show the others.

“Yeah, they are,” You let yourself smile as well. A familiar shiver rushes through you with a feeling of a stare dancing feather-light over your skin. This time, you’re not disillusioned at all; Hunter’s eyes are on you. That’s definitely not nerve-wracking at all.

“Looks like they have a lot of fun with you,” He continues. You instinctively, foolishly, turn his direction and just manage to see the faded view of his profile while he talks. He turns to you. You stare at his nose instead of even trying to make eye contact.

“Really?” Your voice comes out softer, weaker than you expect. You wince internally in embarrassment.

Hunter nods, and in your foggy view, his lips seem to curve up in what looks like a grin.

“I’ve seen you with them,” The mere idea of what that connotates makes you take a deep breath and bite your lip. At all costs, you make sure not to do anything crass. “They connect with you a lot. Especially Omega.”

Your body relaxes. You’d prefer not to use the word soften just yet, lest you wanted to feel so pliant to even the merest compliment.

“She’s a great kid.”

“She is,” He responds. There’s a pause; you expect the conversation to end, but then he starts talking again. Hunter hisses in another breath. “You know… Omega doesn’t exactly have a real woman, er, influence in her life.”

You tilt your head, eyebrows knitted. It begs a silent question that Hunter seems to pick up on.

“Yeah, it’s just me and my brothers and her,” A noise slips out of you, something bordering on an empathetic coo, though it inevitably sounds just like a hum. “So… you’ve been a great influence.”

Your lips part delicately, suddenly so unbearably soft.

“Really?” You repeat. It seems your vocabulary doesn’t expand more than 3 words when talking to Hunter.

He nods, then leans in. You almost pull away in your flushed surprise.

“Don’t tell her I said this…” He whispers. The way his voice rasps and holds onto his words so quietly makes you want to feel his voice even closer, straight in your ear. You don’t inch further. “...But she says you’re like the sister she never had.”

The admittance is intimate, you realize once he finishes his sentence. A sweet little secret between you two, and suddenly, you’re smiling like a damn near fool.

“That’s very nice to hear,” You say, feeling your cheeks burn a little hotter when Hunter grins back. “Thank you for telling me that.”

He tilts his chin down as a way of acknowledgment.

“`Of course, Maple.”

Before anything else can be said, Wesley runs up to the two of you, gripping Hunter’s bicep and shaking it furiously.

“Owen smushed one of the fireflies!” He says in distress, eyes wide as he points over to where the other boys are staring in horror at Owen’s palm. Hunter turns to you immediately before responding to him.

“Gotta deal with this,” He says in a mutter, just low enough so Wesley doesn’t hear. “It was nice talking to you.”

You blink, adjusting to the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Yeah, yeah,” You stammer. “Real nice.”

Those eyes you can’t seem to look into give you another look before he leaves you with sweaty palms, gripping your jar like a madman.

-

At the bonfire later that night, you don’t dare to look up from your feet.

Somehow, talking to Hunter has made your silly little infatuation even worse. You’ve seen the way he attentively focuses in on whoever he’s talking to, giving them his full attention to make them feel listened to and special; to finally receive such attention has made you positively giddy. Panicked, but giddy nonetheless.

Around the campfire, you hum softly to the tune he leads the group in while your cabin belts proudly.

Hunter has a very nice singing voice; you discover this the first week when he first offered up his skills to lead the camp in songs and games every night.

You almost looked into his eyes then that first time, watching him strum simple chords on his guitar, singing simple camp songs in the most gruff, lovely voice, and encouraging others to join. But that was a while ago. Now fear stops you from getting close to that ever again.

Like last time, the Pine cabin immediately surrounds him, perfectly poised postures and smiles put on for his viewing pleasure.

“How’d you get so good?” A girl named Sherine asks while leaning in, reaching out to run her fingers over the guitar strings. Hunter tenses. At least that’s what it looks like to you.

”Practice,” He answers bluntly, before continuing to answer each of their questions.

Pine’s counselor, Mona, walks up beside you with a chuckle.

”Those girls…” She sighs, shaking her head softly. “Don’t they realize how much older he is compared to them? Don't most of them have boyfriends anyway?”

You giggle and nod along with her observations, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on you recurring as Hunter’s gaze wanders.

As the girls finally get ready for bed, combing their hair and changing into their pajamas, someone tugs at your sleeve, once twice, five times. You turn, looking down at Omega's wide, doe-eyes.

“Something wrong?” You ask.

Her eyes search yours, frantic.

“...I think I forgot my book down by the lake.”

You huff, almost surprised by her audacity. 

“Can’t you just wait until the morning?” You offer instead.

Omega shakes her head, a frown on her lips.

“I can’t go to sleep without reading!” She insists. You arch your eyebrows and place your free hand on your hip, but she doesn’t budge. You sigh.

“Fine,” You say, kneeling to mutter quietly, “You’re in charge if anything goes wrong while I’m getting it. If Tech comes by for lights-out inspection, tell him I’m in the bathroom. Got it?”

Omega nods, saluting with a grin.

“On it!” She says, then adds graciously, “Thank you so much .”

It’s hard not to let yourself smile a little at her before leaving through the door, quietly creeping down to the lake. 

The crickets chirping is a nice little sound to keep yourself grounded in the darkness. It might've been wiser to bring a flashlight, you realize, but it isn't that long of a walk anyway. You listen to the sound of your own steps and watch the rustling of leaves overhead, the moonlight peaking through and illuminating the path ahead of you. In the distance, that same flickering of fireflies from the top of the hiking trail gives you a little, just a little more sight to make your way down the steep path and to the shore of the lake.

Your eyes dart around the dock, looking for Omega’s book. You’re unsure what it looks like; you probably should’ve asked her. You slowly walk closer, ensuring that your feet don’t crunch a leaf or snap a twig, before creeping up where the water meets the rocks. A heap of clothes is laid there, messily thrown on top of each other. 

That’s strange. And highly unlikely that someone just forgot their clothes at the lake and returned to camp bare.

The water ripples slowly, and a figure moves languidly under the break. The large rock to your right suddenly becomes the perfect spot to perch behind as you watch whatever is swimming around.

You take another look at the pile of clothes. Under what seems like regular jean shorts, a slip of red peaks through and meets the ground. Squinting your eyes, you almost gasp when you realize what it is. 

Hunter’s bandana.

Suddenly, something bursts out of the water. You almost squeak in your shock, but keep silent. Only your eyes slowly peak over the rock as you see long, dark hair flip backward in a spray of water, a broad chest taking a large breath of fresh air, just going to its hips before slowly shifting back down into the water. You only see that prominent V-Line for just a few moments, a split second of vulnerability Hunter doesn’t even know he’s exposing, for you to gasp so, so silently into your chest.

He’s naked.

Holy shit, he’s naked.

And he looks damn good too.

He slowly moves around in the water, head leaned back as he relaxes, barely letting his hips reach the surface. This is not good, this is an absolute violation of his privacy, why the fuck can’t you look away?

You force yourself to, however, once he looks as though he’s about to leave. His strong arms reach to hold his hair back from his face, wringing it, and you make your run for it, having little regard for making more noise than you did when you first arrived.

Panting and disheveled, face and ears red, you return to your cabin.

“Did you find my book?” Omega asks once you come through the door.

“Couldn’t,” You answer, automatically and robotically, before hiding your face in your pillow and suppressing a scream.

tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @ladyzirkonia

#nour writes stuff #the bad batch #star wars #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #tbb #bad batch hunter #hunter and omega #hunter bad batch #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #bad batch fanfiction #tbb fic #tbb fanfiction #sw the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch smut #the bad batch x reader #bad batch #sw tbb

[mycoblogg]

FOTD #064 : fawn mushroom! (pluteus cervinus)

the fawn mushroom (or deer mushroom / deer shield) is a saprotrophic fungus in the family pluteaceae. it is found on rotten logs, plant roots & tree stumps (but can also grow on all sorts of woody debris) & is found on pretty much every continent.

the big question : can i bite it?? technically, yes !! this mushroom is edible, but some people consider it poor quality for eating.

p. cervinus description :

the cap ranges from 3–12 cm (1+1⁄8–4+3⁄4 in) in diameter. initially it is bell-shaped, & often wrinkled when young. later it expands to a convex shape. the cap can be deer-brown, but vary from light ochre-brown to dark brown, with a variable admixture of grey or black. the centre of the cap may be darker. the cap surface is smooth & matte to silky-reflective. the cap skin shows dark radial fibres when seen through a lens, indicating that the microscopic cuticle structure is filamentous. the gills are initially white, but soon show a distinctive pinkish sheen, caused by the ripening spores. the stipe is 5–12 cm long & 0.5–2 cm in diameter, usually thicker at the base. it is white and covered with brown vertical fibrils.

[images : source & source] [fungus description : source]

"i only recently learnt about this mushroom & it's SO CUTE !! i really love the first picture; it's beautiful."

#• fungus of the day !! • #[pluteus cervinus] #: deer mushroom : #: fawn mushroom : #: deer shield : #064 #|| #fungus #mushroom #mycology #mushrooms #cottagecore #fungi #earth #nature #forestcore #foraging #pluteus cervinus #deer mushroom #fawn mushroom #deer shield #fotd #fungus of the day

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Nine

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

SLUTWEAR / SQUIRTING/CUMSHOTS / PROSTITUTION/CAMMING/SEX-FOR-SERVICE

Summary: After learning that Benny is on Only Fans, he wants you to have a starring role in one of his videos. (Honestly, one of my favourite prompts on @absurdthirs's list!)

Warnings: Mentions of food, sex on camera, biting, oral - female receiving, fingering, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please, even Benny would tell you), rough sex, a little begging, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: I feel like I should give a little back story to the unprotected sex. In the ‘terms and conditions’ you joked about with Santiago, you did state what contraception you’re on and the boys know. You plus the boys are clean STI wise, you all got checked before entering the relationship.

Always use a condom irl for additional protection.

“You’re kidding.”

Benny had taken you to a diner not far from the match, his post-fight ritual of maple soaked pancakes very much needed. The pair of you were laughing over how you met, how your friends fawned over him, unable to keep their hands off his glistening abs but it was you who caught his attention. You who was shaking your head in disbelief at your friends’ adoration for a man they’d just watch fight but maybe now, things were making sense.

“You do not have an Only Fans,” you point your fork at him.

His smile broadens, “Of course I do.”

You wouldn’t put it passed him.

Benny’s physique is always in top form because of MMA, his sexual stamina off the charts if you compare it to the rest of the boys, he was energetic and charismatic and also packing.

Doing the math, it all adds up.

“Then show me.”

He rummages to find his phone out of his pocket, his thumb swiping before tapping the screen and handing it over.

At this time of night, there was rarely another soul in the place yet you still felt the need to hunch your frame and shield the screen from anyone else’s view. His top banner was a ridiculously good photo of his ass, his profile a backwards cap with a little embroidered white bunny. His profile reading:

‘Let’s work out together ;) Have a glimpse at my private nudes, post work-out showers and see what I can do with my hands! DM a request that tickles my fancy and you’ll be one lucky lady!’

“Why’d you start?”

“It was lockdown, I was bored and heard all these people mentioning it. When it paid for my rent that month, I didn’t find myself wanting to stop.”

You had no qualms with his reasoning.

“Gym Bunny?”

“I dunno, people liked watching me work out,” he sipped on his water, “and I fuck like a Duracell bunny so…”

You choke on your hot chocolate.

He watches as you try to compose yourself, hiding his smile as he shovelled more sweet, fluffy sponge into his mouth.

You were quick to flip the phone screen to the table before the waitress came to see if you were ok, you politely waved her off, Benny thanking her for bringing another glass of water. You attention returns to the phone, unable to stop looking.

Out of all the photos and videos, you realise there’s never been anyone else, your expression scrunches.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?”

He never pronounced the ‘g’.

“You’ve never had anyone else in your stuff.”

“I had plenty of offers to partake, never found a good enough match until you.”

You blush, breaking your eyes away as you pass his phone back to him. He sighed, slipping his hand into yours before it could escape, a thumb tracing on your knuckles. You met his eyes again, the colour brighter from the neon lights that beat down on him. His one cheekbone is pink and puffy with the swell of a punch, the eyebrow dressed with slithers of plaster.

You stretch your other hand, the cuff of Benny’s hoodie engulfing the palm you press to his injuries. You’ve seen worse on him, he’s seen worse than you could imagine but there he was still smiling.

“Just, think about it, yeah?”

“I will do, Bunny.”

He chuckles, leaning into you touch.

—

It was your next Saturday with Benny that you agreed to take part in one of his videos and Benny didn’t bring it up again until you spoke about it first, he listened to your terms.

“I don’t want my face on camera.”

“Easy, we’ll shoot it at an angle that cuts off you head, if your face is shown at any point, I’ll blur it out.”

“Wait, you know how to do that?”

He nodded, “One of the first things I learnt.”

You’d ask about that another time.

“I also don’t want to fuck in your gym.”

“We’ll take photos in the gym, fuck in the bedroom.”

“Can I wear the hat?”

“No, I wear the hat.”

You pout.

“I’ll take a couple of pictures with you wearing it once we’re done.”

You smile, bobbing on the balls of your feet. The initial nerves you had with this had spread to make something more exciting, you had been giddy since you stepped through the front door, much to Benny’s delight. You’d done exactly what he asked and arrived in your best sports gear, the ones that show off your silhouette.

“Anything else?”

“What are we gonna call each other?”

“Well, you can barely string a sentence together when I fuck y—“

You swat his chest and he pretends like it hurts.

“How about I call you Bunny?”

You blink, “But that’s you.”

He shrugged, “Maybe you could be the Bunny to my Gym.”

Your brows knot, head cocking to one side.

“Yeah, I heard it.”

Benny kissed you firmly on the lips before excusing himself, he would do a light workout to ‘get the glow’ and set up the space for a shoot, he’d call you when he was done. You tried to find ways of distracting yourself, wandering around the rooms of his house because you’d never received a formal tour and then you remembered this was the longest time you’d been in his place. He always took you out somewhere, a bar, a restaurant, the diner, anywhere but here.

Though you think you’d like to stay here much more.

Here was homely, cosy, decorated with framed photos of family and friends, little touches that notes Benny underneath that jack-the-lad personality.

You jump when he calls you.

Gripping the door handle, you notice your hand shaking a little.

He was glowing alright.

Sweat clung to each defined muscle, soaked through to his vest, his shorts pulled higher to display his thighs. Droplets fell from the ends of his dirty blonde locks hidden by his signature backwards cap.

He laughed, coming to you to close your agape jaw.

“So easily distracted.”

The temperature in your cheeks rises.

“I’ve taken some solo pics,” he guides you towards the bench. “Now, I know you know how to pose for photos but this is a little different, you’re gonna really need to exaggerate your assets, darlin’.”

You swallow, “Ok.”

He helped you loosen up, turned you into some sort of contortionist as he forced you to bend your back further and stick your ass out more. You were never going to become a model but with Benny as your photographer, you had every chance of becoming one.

After you’d relaxed, he introduced himself into the frame.

Benny’s approached to the photoshoot was much like how he was on match night, he mostly remained straight faced and gave direct instruction, gently moving you if he saw it fit. In all his serious though, his expression was soft around the edges and if you cracked, the corner of his lips curled and a swift laugh rose from his chest.

“God, that shot of your hand on my dick through my shorts looks so fucking good.”

Honestly, Benny got hard as soon as he started taking photos of you and when the opportunity arose, you took it. And it’s not like you weren’t turned on yourself, you felt your arousal pool between your thighs as you hovered millimetres away from him.

“Do you need to set up your room?”

“It won’t take long, kind of need you to sit in on it, if you don’t mind?”

You smile, “I’m happy to help.”

You perched at the end of the bed whilst Benny adjusted the lights. He’d already set them up ready, he was fiddling with the heights and moving them a fraction to the left or right, occasionally asking you to switch positions.

It was when he brought the camera and tripod in that you felt the knot in your stomach.

He noticed your demeanour change.

“Hey,” he cupped your face. “You ok?”

You try to smile but it’s fleeting, “Feeling a little nervous.”

The photoshoot felt so intoxicating but this, this was feeling like all eyes were on you.

“Bunny,” he’d slipped your new pet name a couple of times to get you used to it. He took you in both hands and crotched to be at your eye level. “You were fucking fantastic for those photos, if you want to tap out now you can.”

“But I want to do it.”

Benny got it.

He had sent nudes and dick pics to lovers in the past, filming your private life to go on a website was a different playing field, even he had first day jitters when he started. As long as you’re happy and comfortable, you’ll be fine and he can make sure you’re both of those things and more.

“Focus on me, even when you can’t see me, focus on what I’m doing. Remember your head isn’t in the shot, close your eyes if you need to, shut out the room, forget there’s even a camera.”

You give him a reassuring nod.

“The safe word is foxtrot if you change your mind.”

Santiago had gotten you used to a safe word, foxtrot shouldn’t be hard to remember, confusing them was more probable.

He brings a gentle kiss to your lips and you return, hot and heavy. Slipping a tongue over your bottom lip, he pulls himself away, biting the inside of his cheek. All he wanted to do was keep it going but he knew he needed to turn on the camera.

“Sorry, Bunny.”

He backs away.

“Where do you want me?”

His eyes flick to the screen, your pouting lips and nose just on the edge, already stripped down to your simple thong.

“Stay right there,” he winks.

You giggle at his display.

Pushing an index finger, Benny saunters back over to you, blocking the little red light from view. He angles himself to one side, pushing your one leg with his so your soaking panties are on view for all to see. Leaning over, he cups your face and kisses you on the lips slowly before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, pulling back.

He tilts your head towards the camera knowing all too well your swelling, parted lips would be in the shot, bringing his lips to your ear.

“They’re going to fucking love you,” he whispered, inaudible to the camera’s mic.

The shiver travelled down your spine, your back arching towards him as your breath hitched. He caught the gasp in his mouth with force, tongue slipping through to yours where they moved rhythmically. With one hand firmly holding onto the duvet, your other snaked over his broad shoulders to settle on the back of his neck. You leaned back, lengthening your neck and pushing out your tits just as he taught you.

He smoothed both hands over your body, ensuring he drew around every curve as they went to settle at your waist. He brushed his fabric covered cock along the inside of your leg, groaning at the friction.

You moved your hand back over and down the front of his chest, playing with the hem of his vest.

“You want this off?”

“Yes,” you say in a breath.

Benny took it off in one smooth motion, hat still attached to his head, and you wonder what the muscles in his back looked like on camera. You look up to him with doe eyes, mouth agape with a dumbfounded expression.

The smile on his face twists into a smirk.

“You’re too easy.”

“And you talk too much,” you quip back, your mouth working quicker than your brain.

What was that?!

He cocks his head, his one eyebrow arching, this was new and he liked it.

“Well, I better put my mouth to better use.”

Neither of you had a script or plan for this video but you getting cocky in your role was definitely something the two of you didn’t see coming. You swallowed, only having enough time to process the fact you were now in trouble, and the next thing you realised was Benny latched onto your neck.

You yelp softly as he sucks, his weight baring down.

The duvet grows taut under your hand, the other instinctively grabbing onto the first thing it can find, the elasticated waist of his shorts.

Once he parts his lips from you, he licks the wound then trails kisses down to your chest. He cups a breast in one hand and flicks his thumb against the hardening nipple, smiling at the sweet little noise that comes from your throat.

Kissing your breast twice, he draws a circle with his tongue before taking your nipple in his mouth and nuzzling.

Your head falls back, a moan escaping.

There’s a sense of movement along your forgotten thigh, his palm warm as he spreads you further apart. His touch is soft, brushing towards your crotch and back again, then he squeezes quickly and lightly three times. It was a signal every one of the boys used, three squeezes was asking if everything was ok when you couldn’t speak and you would give the same in return.

Your knuckles grazed his navel, three short squeezes.

His tongue darted to your nipple before he sunk his teeth in, a sharp tinge pulsing through the nerve endings and settling in your cunt, your walls twitching around nothing as your juices trickle, soaking your thong. He lets go, soothing with his mouth and sucking one last time, releasing your nipple with a pop.

Your head snaps up with the lack of touch and you meet his eyes as he straightens up to see your face. The grip you had on his shorts falls, fingertips delicate on his cock, the fabric shifts under your touch.

“Shall we show everyone how wet you are, hm?”

Stepping in front of you, his thumbs coil under the minute hem and you lift your hips for him to pull them off. He hooks them off one leg before making more of a show with the other, he hisses, seeing your glistening pussy.

“Shiiit.”

He steps to one side, lifting one leg and working your thong off, holding your ankle near his waist.

The temperature in your cheeks rises, your chest flushing.

“Oh, Bunny, you’re so wet for me.”

Benny loved how wet you could get.

The lights worked their magic and he rocked your hips carefully side to side for the camera to pick up that beautiful shine.

“Are you gonna play with me or not?”

You’re pouting at him.

“I’m only giving the viewers what they want,” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, coaxing a shudder from you.

Your eyes flitted to his bulge, his cock straining against it’s material prison.

“I’m sure they’d rather see that huge cock stretch my little pussy.”

It’s not like you told a lie, it’s just that Benny didn’t have you where he wanted you yet.

“They do but you’re not ready for me yet.”

Your eyebrows knotted, of course you were fucking ready for him, and that’s when it clicked that he probably wanted you writhing, quivering and pleading under him so his audience knew just how good he was.

His fingertips travel over your stomach, brushing through perfectly trimmed bikini line to rest on your mound. He takes a single finger, the one he uses on the trigger of a gun, and presses it delicately against your clit, your thighs twitching with the touch.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, a high pitched sound catches in your chest as he starts to draw circles.

Benny inspects the quirks in your face - the flare of your nostrils, how the colour leaves your lips as you try to stop yourself from making a noise, how your eyelashes flutter and cast shadows across you cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead.

He spreads two fingers through the outer lips of your pussy and groans in unison with you.

His palm still grazes your mound, the friction sending shockwaves through your spine as you lean your back to the bed. You fight every instinct that tells you to close your legs, loving the feel of his hand working it’s way through the muscles of your thigh.

But camera needs to see it, the audience needs to see it as he plunges two fingers knuckle deep into your slit.

You cry, toes curling.

The squelching from your pussy was obscene, it filled your ears and seemingly echoed around the room. Benny worked his fingers in and out at an alarming pace, your slick coating his fingers, dripping to the duvet.

You could feel the knot growing tighter in your stomach, the tension in your core building as he figured out the spot that gained the biggest reaction, your body against you. Throwing an arm over your eyes, you squeeze your eyes shut, dots appearing in your vision as you felt your loins burn.

He knew how to break you in so many ways yet what he chose to do next was new.

His thumb came to your clit, playing with that oversensitive pearl, easing you into a sense of comfort before he pinched his hand. The fingers in your cunt hit that spongey spot and his thumb pressed hard.

You scream, the surge of your orgasm rushing through your body, spraying your juices over his hand to a puddle on the floor.

“That’s it.”

Your legs vibrate, chest rising and falling quickly as you try to recover, a few more squirts slipping out.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your stomach which twitched at the touch. Continuing to rub your clit with all his fingers, he comes to your ear to whisper.

“Pope told me you could be a squirter.”

Dick.

However, two could play that game.

“Your brother knew first.”

Benny hunched over, laughter rolling from his chest, “Ouch.”

“But maybe you could make me squirt from your cock?”

He always loved a challenge.

Straightening up, he stepped back as if he was admiring his work before he spoke aloud for the camera to pick up.

“You want to cum all over my cock next, Bunny?”

“Yes, please.”

You lift yourself up to watch as he yanks his hard cock free, the tip coated in pre cum. Taking the camera, he covers one hand over the lens and brings the tripod closer. 

“Hold your leg up, make sure they can see you.”

He taps your one leg and you cup under the knee, bringing it towards your chest, angling it to the side to open up your pussy. From the screen on the back, he sees how soaked you are, droplets clinging and rolling down your skin.

Taking his cock in his hand, he glides the tip up and down your folds, notching your clit as it passes. You whimper, shivering as goosebumps arrive to your thighs. His fingertips brush along the side of your other leg, bringing your attention to him.

Benny smiles softly before mouthing ‘relax’.

Off camera, you take his hand in yours and squeeze three times then lean back to the safety of the bed. He pushes into your entrance, head dipped to watch as your folds stretch around him, stopping at his tip for you to adjust around him. His lack of movement has you mewling, walls clenching to what they can get.

Pressing a palm to the lower part of your stomach, he slides further in, a chuckle catching in a groan.

“You feel so fucking good.”

He takes you at a languid pace, his hips rolling to make a show of pulling in and out of you, the tip of his cock peeking before he pushes back in. Each blow has a soft but sweet singular grunt slipping from your lips. His thumb moves to press over your clit, stoking the flame of desire in your lower belly and sending through your body in a silent cry. As he begins to rub that sensitive bud, your hand snaps to his wrist with a sharp slap.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen Benny’s eyes turn dark, a hooded glance to you as a smile curled on his lips. His other hand cups your ass before holding you above the safety of the bed. He slides out, your building arousal aiding in the smooth motion.

His next thrust fills you to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” you cry.

You see the bliss come to his face, his long lashes fluttering, head tilting as he slowly draws back, the friction of your closing walls almost keeping him in. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard before he comes back to his senses, dropping his head and honing in on your pussy like it’s a target.

Then he’s nothing but relentless.

He thrusts are fast yet heavy, the force of each one rutting you deeper into the mattress, your one hand bundling the duvet into fist as you try to hold on. His fingernails bury into the flesh of your ass while your nails sink further into his wrist, his thumb plucking your clit as if you were a stringed instrument set to break under his use.

Words tumble out of you yet you’re overflowing with pleasure and have no idea if anything you say is making sense, whether anything you say is actually getting through to him.

Benny snarls, your walls pulsating around his cock, legs trembling.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close.

With his palm still outstretched, he leans into your stomach and hears your protests before every part of you goes rigid.

You scream, your juices seeping before he pulls himself out, allowing the floodgates to open. He knows it’s downright filthy, hearing the gush and the splash as you practically ruin his laminate flooring but he’s so enamoured with you right now.

His cock is twitching, balls heavy.

Your body goes limp, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, closing your eyes as the room spins. Benny presses a kiss to your stomach, shockwaves dancing through muscle, spreading a luscious warmth.

“Want me to fill you with my cum?” He notches his tip at your entrance.

“Yes,” your voice is hoarse, “Please, please, please.”

He won’t last long.

Your inner walls hug him as he reenters, the noise of your wetness obscene against the slap of his hips against yours. He lasts another minute before his movements begin to stutter.

In your cock drunk haze, you prop yourself up on an elbow, your other hand stretching to run your fingertips down his chest. The sweat clings to the ridges as his abdominals tighten, your feather light touch electrifying as he thrusts as deep as he can go, your breath hitching.

With a groan, he spills his seed inside you, coating your walls.

His flexed muscles go slack, his balls throbbing as he milks himself. Sighing, he pulls out his cock and watches his creamy cum spill with a gurgle.

Looking up at him, a meek smile on your lips and it’s like the Benny you know everyday comes back into the room. His hand immediately reaches to the camera and with an accompanying bleep, the red dot goes out. He collapses onto you, hands roaming each inch of you, lips kissing every patch of skin and he starts rambling.

“I went too hard, I’m sorry darlin’,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Even as you throw the hat from his head and run your fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, he won’t stop apologising.

“Benny, Benny…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his lips hanging loose as he meets your eye.

“Benny,” your voice is delicate, your hands cupping his face and drawing him closer, thumbs rubbing his cheeks. “It’s ok, I’m ok.”

He brushed a hand over your swollen pussy and you flinch, his brows furrow.

“It’s just a little sore.”

He’s not satisfied with your answer, you were going to be a little more than sore but he gladly slanted his lips over yours, sinking deeper, catching your sigh in his mouth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The room gradually came into view, luminous like you were still riding out your high.

Benny returned from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel. Dipping it between your folds, he cleaned the mess the pair of you made, his touch gentle.

“How are you still hard?”

He grins, “Remember, Duracell bunny.”

“How could I forget,” you giggle.

He continues to tidy away the equipment whilst you climb into the bed, nestling into the plump pillows. Your eyes grow heavy as you admire him, his hands as they wrapped around chrome stands, how easy he carries them over his shoulder, the other towel he brought in just to mop up your arousal from the floor.

“Benny,” you call him. “Come to bed.”

He stops what he’s doing though he’s almost done.

Sliding under the duvet, he waits for you to shuffle to him, an arm coiling around you frame, a hand resting on the small of your back. You tuck your head under his chin, a palm resting over his chest, his heartbeat steady.

“I love you, Bunny,” you say with a smile, closing your eyes.

He scoffs, “Love you too.”

When you come round, the room is plummeting into darkness, outside the sun setting low. The space where Benny lay was empty, creases in the bed sheets the only remanence of his presence. He’d flicked the bedside lamp on and left a t-shirt folded at the end of the bed, the towel gone from the floor.

Pulling on his metal band tee, you wander to the bathroom to pee, the house mostly silent except for the sound of clicking computer keys.

You freshen up before going to find him.

You never considered Benny to be the tech guy of the boys but his set up put yours to shame. He had crammed everything into what appeared to be a utility room, sound proof panels along the windowless walls and lights that filled the room with an ambient glow. He was basking in front of two screens, one with a web browser on, the other playing through the footage you both recorded, headphones clamped to his ears.

Creeping up behind him, you run your palms over his chest.

His finger pressed down on the mouse and the video paused, his other hand pulling off his headphones.

“How’s it looking?” You query, placing a kiss to his temple.

The smell of his aftershave hits your nostrils, his hair roughly towel dried.

“It looks really fucking good, I think it could go viral.”

He turns his head, bringing his lips to yours. Hooking his arm over your back, he holds you closer before you have to come up for air. You lick your lips, the taste of beer linger and you suddenly realise how parched you are.

Your eyes go to the screen.

“Shit, am I always that messy?”

“Yep,” his smile broadens. “Why do you think we all love that pussy so much?”

Your expression scrunches playfully, a joking ‘ew’ coming from your mouth and you wriggle free from his hold.

“You want another?”

“Sure, darlin’, do you mind if I keep editing?”

You glance over your shoulder, “Not at all, as long as I can sit in.”

His heart could burst, first you say yes to starring in his feature, now you want to edit. It was usually such a lonely process, he could use the company, also another eye on this will help spot the issues he doesn’t catch. Not that he thinks there will be.

Watching the two of you back was uncomfortable at first. You had never really heard yourself on camera especially how you sound when you’re being teased with and played with before being fucked raw. Yet the more you watched, the less you squirmed or looked away in embarrassment, you actually enjoyed it.

There was a spark of desire low.

Benny couldn’t stop looking at you, his eyes flicking from the screen and back again. You leaned from the beanbag chair with utter wonder, head cocking in intrigue. It startled him when you finally spoke after an hour.

“Have you thought about doing merch?”

And that’s when he knew, you were hooked on this shit.

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #kinktober #it could only be benny right?

[xhannahbananax03]

Trouble

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Reader

MASTERLIST

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: none... yet

A/N: I just tagged a bunch of people in this in hopes that it'll take off, I could really use that right now with how life's treating me. But if you'd like to be removed from the tags just let me know!

A/N 2: Don't forget to reblog, like, share and comment on your favorite artists works! Anything helps 💛

There she stood, outside of the pop up tent that Elvis Presley had just performed under. She fluffed her hair a bit, a piece of paper gripped in her hand tightly while her arms stayed crossed over her chest in a fight against the cold.

She heard the screams and cries of a herd of women getting closer to her and she stood up straighter as she waited semi-patiently.

"ELVIS!!!!" She heard one girl sob out as a mob swarmed past her making her stumble back slightly, at the front of the herd stood the flock shepard; Mr. Presley, walking at a steady yet quick pace as he held the cap of a pen between his teeth while signing every picture and slip of paper that was shoved into his hands.

A normal human would've been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of screaming, begging, pleading women, but Elvis was not a normal human, that much was for sure. Not with the way he moved on that stage. Not with the way he commanded the bodies of hundreds of people.

"Woah!" Y/n heard a man with a raspy voice call out with a chuckle and she looked up to see young Elvis shielding his eyes from that of a woman's bare breasts. Her mouth nearly fell open at the sight, she couldn't believe the lengths some women were willing to go through for just a taste of his attention. Nonetheless, Elvis reached forward and signed her breasts which caused her to literally faint in front of the man, but luckily her friends were there to hold her up as they quickly pulled her shirt closed.

He kissed a few women, signed a few papers before a large man approached him and shooed off all the women, telling them that Elvis needed to go get his beauty sleep. The girls wept and sighed but left the boy alone anyways. Except for Y/n.

She had waited for the crowd to dissipate before making her move, walking up to the back of Mr. Presley while he stared out into the open space, she wondered for a split moment if she should interrupt him, before she decided she'd just make it fast and polite, chances were she'd never get this chance again and with that, she made her move.

"Um, Mr. Presley?" Y/n spoke out softly, tapping on his shoulder and he turned around to look down at her as a smile came over his face.

"Well hi there, darlin'," He slurred, the toothpick he had in his mouth getting pulled out before he leaned up against the building beside him, "Lose your crowd?" He asked, nodding over towards the crowd of girls whispering and giggling over the excitement they had just experienced.

Y/n blushed deeply as she looked over at the crowd before she bit into her full bottom lip and shook her head no, "I um, I'm not really one for loud crowds of screaming girls,"

He laughed softly as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him, "Let me let ya in on a lil secret?" Elvis asked the absolute blushing mess of a girl in front of him, making his smirk grow wider, "Neither am I," he let go of her chin and she laughed softly as he cracked that joke.

"Oh sure, the Elvis Presley isn't a fan of the hundreds of girls fawning over him," She scoffed gently as her posture relaxed slightly. She couldn't believe she was joking around with Elvis, but at the same time? It felt easy. Natural.

"Well, now hold on," He held his hand out in front of himself, "Never said I wasn't a fan of the ladies, just not a fan of the screaming crowds," He laughed with her for a moment before silence fell over them and they just stared at each other for a minute.

Y/n shook herself out of her trance before she decided to say what she had come here to say, "I just wanted to say that, while I'm not as excitable as some," she nodded her head back to the slowly disappearing crowd, "That your music lights up a fire inside of me. I've never felt so free from just music..." She bit into her lip again while studying the ground beneath her, "You're just amazing Elvis," She looked up at him through her lashes and he stared down at her with a soft and genuine smile.

"Why thank ya, lil' mama," He cooed out reaching out to trail his finger tips over her jaw softly. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Her soft features, her deep, round eyes, her soft hair. The longer he looked at her, the more he began to fear that his eyes would never behold such beauty ever again.

She stared at him for a long moment, starstruck, her eyes filled with lust and wonder, her lips just slightly parted, "I gotta do it," She whispered out, just loud enough for the both of them to hear.

Elvis raised a brow at her and opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but before he could even get the first word out, she had latched onto the wrist of the hand that was holding her face softly and she jutted forward to push her lips against his.

At first he was surprised, his stature stiffening before he relaxed entirely under her hold, her fingers gently pushing through the back of his hair while her tongue poked out to tease at his lips. His hands trailing down over her wide hips to pull her in close while he slid his tongue over hers.

When they both pulled away due to the need for air, her eyes stayed shut for a second longer as her arms rested around his shoulders and she leaned against him, his soft chuckle pulled her back into reality and she blushed before she took a step back and pushed her hair back behind her ear.

"I've kissed alot of women. But honey, that was somethin' else," Elvis grinned, impressed with her bravery while he drew a line over his lips with his thumb, chasing the feeling of her against him.

She chuckled softly as she entangled her fingers together in front of herself, paper still held tightly in her hands, "Ya want me to sign that?" He asked sweetly, pointing towards the paper in her hands and she perked up at the reminder.

"Oh um no, actually. This is for you," She smiled out brightly, making Elvis smile himself. She handed the piece of paper to him before grabbing his broad shoulders once more and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, "Thank you Mr. Presley," She whispered against his ear, giving him one last smile before she walked away with an extra skip in her step and a big smile plastered on her face. She couldnt believe she had actually done it.

Elvis watched her walk away with a smirk on his lips, hoping he'd at some point see her again. He looked at the note in his hands with a gentle smile before he realized he had never caught her name, "Wait! I-" he looked out in the direction she was heading only to see that she was long gone.

With a dejected sigh he had flopped back against the building he was leaning on before, he looked at the crumpled note and carefully unfolded it, 'Im trouble," Elvis chuckled at the fact that she had quoted his song in her little note, 'xoxo, Y/n'. So that was her name. Y/n. It was fitting, beautiful name for a beautiful lady.

Suddenly he noticed a small white square on the ground near his feet, it must've fallen from her note. Something was written on the back but he ignored it for now before flipping it over in his fingers, his eyes widening and jaw dropping as he saw a photo of the woman that had just stood before him, dressed in lingerie, her hair up with just a few pieces falling around her face as she blew a kiss at the camera.

He flipped it back over, looking over his shoulder just to be sure that nobody was watching him and read the dainty writing on the back of the photo, 'Call me sometime' with what he assumed to be her home phone number next to it.

He would definitely be putting that to use.

Tags: @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @fictionalabyss @thatonemoviefan @venus-haze @myradiaz @myradiaz1969 @drakenryugujii @knoxvillesshoes @heavenlybutler @naveymoon @dre6ming @missmaywemeetagain @asshlyyyy @sagesolsticewrites @austinbutlerr @austinbutlerbra @austinbutlerworld @austinbutlersboobs @atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love @jazmin211 @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx @1-800-bettyboop @heartbrakehotel @akshi8278 @440mxs-wife @flamencodiva @naughtyneganjdm @itsafansworld07 @ynreaderlol

@wstelandbaby @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42

@rosaliaday @foxxycurriespice @omgellenlouise @tacozebra051

#elvis x reader #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvis the king #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler #1950s aesthetic #1960s women #1960s music #romance #trouble #hall of fame #fanfiction #viva las vegas #elvis

[medievalcellphone]

gender neutral fungi themed names for the modern and tasteful baby: scurfy twiglet, dog stinkhorn, snowy waxcap, white dunce cap, nitrous bonnet, oak loving gymnopus, fawn mushroom, butterfly collybia, deer shield, fragrant funnel, clouded agaric, mica cap, pink edge bonnet, scotch bonnet, brown roll rim, pluteus petasatus, rufous milkcap, armillaria sinapina, red lead roundhead, bleachy entomola, honey fungus, humongous fungus, wood blewit, red stinkhorn, pale brittlestem, camembert brittlestem, russula cerolens, split gill, st. george’s mushroom, meadow waxcap, slender parasol, poison pie, parasola auricoma, earthy inocybe, chocolate milky, stinky squid, tall psathyrella, witch’s hat, grey knight, weeping widow, greville’s bolete, luxury cap, false parasol. Blusher, field blewit, lepista nuda, dead man's foot, banded mottlegill, big sheath mushroom, goblet funnel cap, petticoat mottlegill, grisette, horse mushroom, red edge brittlestem, yellow staining mushroom, springtime amanita, candy cap, wood pinkgill, peach colored fly agaric, scalycaps (pholiota terrestris), liberty cap, milking bonnet, mower’s mushroom, mycena galericulata, pluteus cervinus, nitrous bonnet, salt loving mushroom, firerug inkcap, common puffball, tyromyces chioneus, purple laccaria, panaeolus antillarum, oak bracket, bloody brittlegill, winter russula, penny bun, red chanterelle, lilac bonnet, rosy bonnet, field mushroom, Person

#mushrooms #me #hehehe

[lindagoesmushrooming]

#woods #forest #forestcore #mushrooms #fungi #mushroom cluster #nature #nature photography #latvia #original photographers #photographers on tumblr #sunlight #pluteus cervinus #? #Fawn Shield-cap #mycena tintinnabulum #winter bonnet #i think

[sehunniepotwrites]

let’s break the ice | m.l | one

🏒  SYNOPSIS— in which you’re attending your college team’s hockey practice with your best friend and embarrassment ensues.  🏒 GENRE— fluff, humor, crack, college!au, hockey!au 🏒 PAIRING— hockey captain!mark lee x reader 🏒 WORD COUNT— 1.4k 🏒 WARNINGS— sexual innuendos made! 

🏒 AUTHOR’S NOTE—i would like to thank whitney for tweeting the inspiration for this fic and my chaotic ass group chat for all the ideas. i also know nothing about hockey. (read through it twice to edit but i might’ve missed some errors!)

(11/27/2020: edit! surprise! it’s now a mini-series!)

| next > 

It’s so cold in the rink but your face is flushing as you blatantly stare at the hockey team gearing up for practice. You don’t exactly understand how the sight of college hockey players gets you riled up but hey, they’re delicious eye candy and their games are extremely entertaining, so you’re one hundred percent here for it.

They’re so close but so far— close enough to hear their conversations but far enough to be separated by the glass. 

You’re practically sinking in your seat, ogling the handsome boys hunched over the player’s bench, and Jaemin is shaking your head at you. He pretends to swipe at your lips and then rubs his hand on his pants. “You’re drooling, missy,” he chuckles at how shamelessly you’re admiring the players who also happen to be his close friends.

Bringing up a sleeve to wipe your mouth with your sleeve, you peek down to see nothing wet staining the material. You shoot your best friend a deadpanned look and he snorts at your reaction. “I didn’t bring you along to fawn over this lot of idiots, you know,” he says with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off with your hand, eyes still glued to the players on the bench. You spot Jeno looking in your direction and he smiles at you before the brightest grin breaks out on his face upon seeing Jaemin. 

“You brought me to be the third wheel for dinner tonight; what a great best friend you are, Nana.” Turning to your side, you see Jaemin waving at his boyfriend with a matching grin. You’re almost jealous at the fact that Jaemin had found love in such an amazing guy like Jeno and you constantly find yourself wishing for something just as great as their relationship.  

“I could always introduce you to one of the guys on the team and invite them too if you want,” Jaemin nudges your side and you laugh at his suggestion. You debate on taking up that offer, knowing your meddling best friend would actually do that for you, before declining it. “Break the ice and your streak of being single.”

“Nah,” you say, “they’re all cute but I think the only one I would actually be interested in is the cap.” 

Captain Mark Lee— your university’s golden boy. He’s the unbelievably endearing third year that’s dedicated to both his sport and his major. He can easily win your heart through the love songs he composes on his guitar and the sound of his sweet voice. If you meet him on the rink, however, you’ll find yourself going against a beast— his level of competitiveness is off the charts, and the concentrated glare his brown eyes give off is something no one wants to experience. 

You’ve seen both sides of him, being in his major’s cohort and a close friend of the hockey team, and it somehow led you to crushing on Mark. But really, who wouldn’t?

“Ah, yes, the golden boy,” Jaemin hums. You hear shuffling coming from the steps behind you and you shrug it off as one of the other players heading in late. Probably Yangyang— that boy always loses track of time.

“Hmm, yeah,” you sigh, dropping your head to lean on Jaemin’s shoulder. “Mark could honestly slam me against a shield guard and I would say ‘thank you.’” 

Before Jaemin could reply, you hear a yelp followed by the loudest thud come from the concrete steps. You and Jaemin turn to find Mark sprawled out on the staircase, his bag and hockey stick tumbling down to the player’s area.

Mark looks up at you with widened eyes from his spot on the steps like a deer caught in headlights. There’s a bright shade of red that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck and you’re sure you’re mirroring his embarrassing state. You can’t believe he actually heard you say that.

Jaemin and the other boys on the team snicker at the awkward situation and you just want to dig a hole into the ground and jump into it. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak out. You’re gripping Jaemin’s sleeve, fingernails digging into his arm as he continues to cackle at your misery. 

““Oh, um, um, I don’t think t-that’s a good idea, like, that hurts, like a lot,” Mark replies, flustered as a boy could ever be. He tugs on his earlobe before his hand rubs the back of his reddening neck. 

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Why is this happening? And why is he so cute?

“Yeah, right, of course,” you breathe out, biting your bottom lip before looking to Jaemin for help. He does nothing of the sort and continues to laugh at your misfortune. Some best friend he was.

“Nice to see you here today,” Mark says, his voice cracking at the end and he clutches his throat at the unexpected break. It sends your best friend and the players into another laughing fit and you glare at them for reeling in Mark’s embarrassment. The captain runs his fingers through his blond hair and gives you an awkward smile before gathering his belongings and making his way down to his team. You hear him muttering something to himself but it was too low for you to catch.

As soon as he makes it to the bench, his teammates slap him across the back and you see Ten ruffling his hair. A childish whine leaves his lips as they continue to tease him and you can’t help but smile at how close they seem. 

Jeno whispers something to Mark, causing the captain to sneak another peek at you. You meet his eyes and you both look away with heated cheeks. 

The teasing continues to go on as Mark laces up his skates and takes off his blade guards but it all halts when his facial expression changes into something more serious. His voice drops in pitch as he commands the team to start making their way to the ice and it sends butterflies flying about in your stomach.

Something inside you wishes he talked to you in that voice and suddenly, your imagination is running wild. Jaemin, noticing how quiet you are, shifts his gaze from his boyfriend to you and shakes his head at that hopeless grin that’s taken over your lips.

“You’ve seen how incredibly clumsy Mark is and you still want him to smash you against the shield guard?” your best friend questions.

You’re a bit out of it when you reply, “I mean I want him to smash something else but that works, too.” Jaemin is bubbling with laughter at what your words are hinting. You grin at him and he playfully shoves the side of your head.

You watch as Jaemin cups his hands around his mouth and you realize what he’s about to do a second too late. “Hey Cap!” he yells. Mark nods your way as he steps closer to the ice, letting Jaemin know that he’s listening. He slips his helmet on, making sure it’s nice and secure.

“She said she still wants to smash; you up for it or nah?” your best friend shouts loud enough for the whole rink to hear. 

One moment Mark is stepping on the ice, the next he is slipping. He falls face flat on the cold surface and instead of checking on their beloved captain, the boys are laughing their asses off, using their sticks as support to hold up their shaking bodies. He groans in pain and you wince, two bad falls within ten minutes must hurt.

“Everything is cool, it’s cool,” Mark says to no one as he pushes himself off the ice. He looks up at you and you catch him nibbling on his lip through the wire cage.

“I mean, we would have to break the ice first but why not?” he manages to shout back before skating away to bark warm-up commands to the other players. His teammates ignore his calls, choosing to skate over to tease their captain. They playfully whack him with their sticks and Mark’s yelling at them to focus on their warm-up exercises.

Mark’s unexpectedly smooth words leave you in a bumbling mess, hands coming up to feel how fast your heart is racing against your chest. Your head is filled with Mark and only Mark. 

“Wow,” Jaemin says with raised brows. He smirks at you, “Guess your wildest dreams of being smashed against the shield are so close to coming true.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Nana,” you say, fighting back a smile. 

God, you love hockey. 

© sehunniepotwrites, 2020

#neowritingsnet #mark lee #mark scenarios #mark imagines #mark fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #let’s break the ice

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers #peter parker #sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #hue and cry #medieval au #au #medieval!au #mcu #marvel #captain america #falcon #spider-man #winter soldier

[cherry-gemz]

Bombshell: Steve Rogers' Birthday Bingo Challenge

Here’s my submission for my bingo square on @the-ce-horniest-book-club challenge! Master list here.

Summary: You're a friend of a friend. He is the strong and capable Captain America. One night of finding more about you, brings the hero to his knees.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ only! 🍆, smut

Word count: I overdid it...but I couldn't stop. 3k+

Prompts: "On your left" & "Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

A/N: IDK what this transpired to be...at first it was a Sub!Steve, but then it wasn't? Whatever it is, it's some something 😜. Enjoy 🍒🍒🍒.

Tags:@foxyjwls007 @calimoi @lauraxoxo100

@thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @ashwow12 @chicana25

@fangirlfree

*

On your left," you rushed as you carried a large plate of burger patties and corned Steve. He lifted his hands near his pecs and moved quickly out of the way. His head tilted up as you approached Bucky and Sam by the grill. On your left. He had to grin at what you said, considering all those times he and Sam would see each other in the beginning in D.C. Unbeknownst to you, it was something he held dear to his heart. And here you were, saying the same thing.

He admired you as you chuckled and gently placed your hand on

Bucky's arm as he pretended to lift the plate of burgers with strain, as if you were the one with the bionic arm. A sting of jealousy coursed through his veins as you gave your attention to his fellow mates. He couldn't talk to you as easily as they did. You made him nervous to be honest, not being like other women who could easily fawn over Captain America. You could hang with the Avengers by day and by night...well thoughts of what you actually did at night kept him up ironically.

"Nice barbeque, amiright?" Scott bumped Steve's arm and drank his beer.

"Uh, right," Steve replied, trying to not focus any attention on his gape to you.

"She's single, you know," Scott grinned.

Steve turned to him, "What? Who?"

"Y/N. That's who you're gawking at right? I mean, I would know. She's my neighbor. She's gorgeous."

"Is that how you know her?"

Scott analyzed the buffet of food along the table and settled with some chips and place them on his plate.

"Yeah, I mean, um. How do I say this?" Scott leaned in to Steve and whispered in her ear. "I hear she's a dancer?"

"What?" Steve's heart pumped quickly and he looked at you in further detail. "Like ballet?"

"No. But I'm not quite sure?"

Bucky nodded Steve over and shouted, "Hey! We're going to Y/N's show tonight. She invited us."

"VIP, baby!" Sam added and stuck his tongue out.

"Hey, can I come?" Scott asked.

"Pfft. Sure, why not," Bucky laughed. "Front row, center."

Steve blushed. He couldn't believe his ears, let alone eyes as he watched you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and walk away from Bucky and Sam. You had a magnetic way about you that he couldn't shake off. And now, knowing what you did for a living... somewhat for a living. That made him even more curious and interested.

"Cap," Scott interrupted his train of thought. "Earth to Cap?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Why don't you ask her out? I heard she's into guys like you. You know, ridiculously good looking and fit. If you're into that sort of thing I guess."

Steve nodded absentmindedly as you retrieved the now empty platter and headed to the kitchen, but not without batting your eyelashes at the handsome soldier. A lump in his throat appeared, and he knew he was in heap of trouble with what came next.

*

"And now the woman of the hour….Ginger Starlight!"

The room applauded as the lights dimmed and a single spotlight appeared at the red velvet curtain.

Scott, Bucky, Sam, and Steve had arrived early for your show and were seated in the VIP section. You fidgeted with your fishnet stockings and you closed your eyes in anxiousness. You were a pro, but for some reason, knowing Steve was out there in the audience, made you sweat like a sinner in church.

You found him endearing and sweet. Behind the shield and armor of being Captain America, what you saw from the exterior was a gentleman and someone who respected others. Much different than the men that were regulars at your show. You felt a twinge of sadness however, considering you'd never be more than an admirer from afar. Typically men who found out what you did for a living ran the other way post haste. You had to bite the bullet though, Scott was getting more nosy about your life and stopping by your house more than usual. Pure innocence of course, but rather than he find out by the wrong people, you wanted to show him and his friends what a truly, classic burlesque show was really like. There was nothing wrong with your profession, your art was beautiful and sexy. And with that in mind, you perked your decolletage and ran your velvet gloved hands down your body, ready to give some of the Avengers a show they'd never forget.

*

Steve coughed into his hand as he realized what type of dancer you were. And out of respect, he wanted to leave. He thought the female body was beautiful and alluring, but also an enigma. He truly did not have any hefty experience with the opposite sex compared to the others. Considering being frozen in ice for some time and then fighting to save the world, it just wasn't top of mind. Sure he had a bit of a hero streak going on, one wouldn't say he was unlucky with the ladies. He just didn't seem to find one that was the same level as him.

He would get teased a bit for being so picky, that he should settle down with a local girl. But when he would go away for months on end for a mission and get the Dear John letter, or equivalent text. So he made it easier: cut ties before getting too involved. But he sure did think about having something with you.

A familiar trumpet opened and a silky downscale of the piano rang in his ears. He sucked in a breath as he anticipated seeing you. This was no ballet. The velvet curtain slowly rose and a few hoot and hollers escaped some men's lips and Steve shot daggers at them in the dimmed light. You were to be treated as any entertainer: the dignity and decency of the audience should keep their disruptions to a minimum.

Slowly the tension built as your peep toe heels came into view and then the little hint of ankles off your black, beaded appliqué skirt. Steve's eyes roamed upwards, following the curtain. The way the dress looked inked upon your curves was more than he could handle. Every inch of you, he drank in, mesmerized by your femininity and allure.

Your hair was styled in retro fashion, your makeup flawless and with a glow. You were always in your element on stage: the way you handled yourself, your charisma and confidence made you feel sexy in and out. And as for tonight, you were feeling ultra sexy knowing the star spangled man with a plan was there to see you.

Steve didn't think this was so bad. He was first off worried if you found out he had been imagining you in his dreams. Embarrassed to say that he may have had a dream or two of you on top of him.

Your dress was beautiful and modest, with lacy peepholes that accentured your femine curves. Sam shook Bucky by the shoulders and he shot Steve a look, then turned back his attention to you as the curtain disappeared and you stood there in the spotlight with your mic stand.

As if he saw stars in his eyes, his concentration was locked onto you. The velvet undertone of your sweet voice, the way you ran your hands up and down your curves. He was in love.

The same men that were yelling earlier, became more aggressive and started shouting for you to remove your clothing. Which you ignored and kept your gaze on the soldier before you. You gulped in realizing what was next, but decided to playfully peel off your gloves, finger by finger and tossed them aside. The men yelled again, whistling this time and shouting for a spread eagle.

Your wine stained lips sang like a nightingale as the four friends were entranced by your song and dance. You slowly removed the long skirt and your garter belt and thigh highs made the audience go wild. You cheekily bit your lip as you turned for them all to see your amazing behind, and shimmied your top off, craning your neck back to see their reaction.

Scott's mouth was agape, Bucky was rubbing his jaw, trying to cover his smirk and excitement. While Sam sat there quietly, ensuring not to blink and miss a second of your display. Steve on the other hand, had walked over to the rowdy men and kindly told them to simmer it down.

"Let's take it down a notch, fellas," he said, holding his hand out for them to stop.

"What's it to you?" The beefy man said, drinking the rest of his beer.

"Yeah, we paid to see the lady take off all her clothes, so that's what we wanna see," the other inebriated man said.

"It's not that kind of show," Steve said, annoyed. "Let's Ms. Starlight perform as usual and you guys keep it down."

"Oh, looks Bob, it's a boy scout."

"He looks kinda old for a boy scout, Tommy. More like a Park Ranger wannabe."

The two men laughed at their own jokes and it only made Steve more agitated. You glanced over at their table, while trying to still perform when one of them threw their empty beer bottle your way and it crashed onto the stage. Sam, Bucky, and Scott stood up from the table while you yelped and shouted at the men to stop.

"Brian!" You yelled for the security guard, but it was only in vain.

"Hey baby, we paid good money for you to show your goods, so quit it with the singing and show us your rack!"

Steve saw red. He quickly grabbed the man by the throat in a choke hold while the rest of the Avengers waited for his cue. He slammed the man's head onto the table, unrelenting his grip.

"Now you will apologize to Ms. Starlight for your behavior, do I make myself clear? Then you and your buddy here will high tail it out and never come back."

The man struggled to breathe and wiggled as he slammed his fist against the table in defeat.

Steve released his grip, when the friend came up from behind and twisted his arm. The rest of the Avengers saw that as their moment and went into action.

*

After a few punches thrown and perhaps a black eye, the quasi team of heroes left the club relatively unscathed. Steve stayed with you as they closed up for the night. He nursed a bag of ice on his knuckles as you sat together at one of the tables. Your brassiere strap loosely fell down and it caught his eye. He took off his jacket and offered to place it over your shoulders, which you accepted.

"Do your nights typically end up like this?" He joked.

"No, only on Thursday nights," you smiled. "But that's probably more common with your lifestyle."

"Surprisingly no, I probably jinxed myself. But most likely why the guys were ready for some action. It's been a minute since we've been on a mission."

"What's that like?" You asked as you crossed your legs and Steve gulped at the silky black stockings that showcased your juicy thighs.

"Being on a mission? Both incredibly exhilarating and lonely at the same time."

"Sounds like my job," you say solemnly.

"Really? I'd imagine you live a pretty wild life, considering how crazy things were tonight."

"Tonight was a fluke. Usually the crowd is much more docile and surprisingly filled with women. Many are curious and are wanting to ask me for tips after the show."

"Oh?" Steve blushed again at the sight of you. "Well, you seem pretty experienced….I mean, dammit, Rogers."

You giggle and touch his arm, sending electric energy through your body. You playfully start to rub your leg against his and he grins.

"You could say that…"

"I didn't mean to offend. I meant that your show is really something."

You laugh at his stumble of words, "It's okay, Steve. It's just me here."

He nodded and rubbed his knuckles with a slight wince of pain.

"Can I see?"

He nodded and lifted the bag of ice, revealing a few cuts on his hand that were turning blackish blue.

"Do you need to go to a doctor?"

"Nah, I've had worse."

"I'm sorry, that seems exhausting."

"It happens from time to time. But it's nice to have you to talk to. Makes it all worthwhile."

"How about I patch it up?" you look at him seductively. "I'm pretty good at bandages. Many years of tying my own corsets, I know a thing or two."

Steve blinked his eyes. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick and he felt he wouldn't be able to think of anything else but you through the end of his days. Above all he was a gentleman, so he knew he shouldn't go any further than you'd like to take it. But he'd sure as hell wanted to.

*

His lips were hot and full, just as you'd imagined. His broad chest was like a brick wall against your chest. Your core yearned for him and you wanted him to touch you all over. He anchored his hands on your hips and felt the rough applique of beads from your skirt.

"Steve…" you said and breathed in his cologne.

"Yeah?" He responded and raked his good hand through your hair, lightly grasping it enough to excite you for more.

"I...I don't want you to get the wrong impression." You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips.

He tilted your chin and smiled, "It's okay...I dropped you off tonight knowing full well I was just going to ask for a kiss."

You batted your eyelashes, "It's just...I really like you...and I want you..."

"And I want you, Y/N. I don't want anyone else." He pushed back a tendril of your hair and cupped your cheek. "You were incredibly sexy tonight. I don't think you're real."

You looked into his icy blue eyes, searching for a tell that he was a heartbreaker. That the things you've heard about the Captain were all true: he'd leave 'em high and dry, always searching for the next best thing. A twinge of hope entered your head, that maybe you'd be different. And as if he could read your thoughts, he interrupted your indecision about him.

"You're not like the others," he said and drifted his hand back to your hip to hold you tight. You enjoyed the commanding side of him, something you weren't quite used to, but it left you intrigued.

"When those guys were being jerks, I wanted to teach them a lesson. To not only apologize to you, but to know that they could never have a shot with you. That you were with me."

"Steve," you purred as his other hand pressed the small of your back, forcing what little fabric you had against his hardened member. You were fighting all the better judgement to not drop his pants right there and then.

"I know...I know...I better go," he replied and his demeanor changed as he stepped back down your stoop. He leaned on the front door frame of your house and gave you a smoldering look. The late night sky was dark and the stars shone brightly overhead, the only witnesses of your intimate moment together.

"Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

He grinned and shook his head at your frankness, "I want you to know, I'm going to come back tomorrow to take you out."

You smiled and bit your thumbnail. He was too good to be true. “That wasn’t really a question, was it?”

“Sometimes you gotta just take the leap I guess. But to your point - can I take you out tomorrow night?”

"I'd like that," you nodded and blew him a kiss. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight enchantress," he beamed as you waved and closed the door. You quickly turned your back and leaned your head against it. Regretting that you let him slip away and secretly wanting him to have his way with you, you walk to your bedroom.

You place his jacket on your tufted chair and grab your robe before you retreat to the bathroom. You hear a knock at the door and wonder if he has returned. You hoped he had returned. He lit a fire in your belly and an insatiable taste on your lips.

You opened the door and he stood leaning on the frame, "I...I seem to have forgotten my jacket."

"Oh, yes…" you lick your lips and reply. You turn to your room, "It's just-"

You're interrupted with his lips colliding with yours. You grab his neck in accepting his advances and stumble to close your door. His hands are furiously roaming over your body, trying to find your belt and you smash his face with your hands, unrelenting your grasp. It's dangerous, it's new, it's hot.

"Steve…" you say as you moan through the kiss. You open your eyes and his are locked onto yours. Without saying anything, you jump and hook your legs around his waist. He quickly grabs hold of your arse and continues to slick his tongue against yours. He tastes like cinnamon and rain. Familiar things that have imprinted now in your memory and associate with him.

"I couldn't wait for tomorrow," he said and carried you to your bedroom, but crashed against the archway. You both laugh realizing he missed his mark and he gently drops you, still so close in proximity.

"I never did finish my show…" you say seductively.

"You're right," he rasped.

You look up at him with lustful eyes and grab his hand as you guide him to your bed. You lift your thigh and press your foot on the bed where he sits on the edge. He leans in to give it a kiss, but you playfully correct him by grabbing his chin.

"Uh-uh, no touching Captain Rogers."

He whines slightly, but grins devilishly and leans slightly back on the bed. You slowly pull your brassiere straps off and shimmy your ample breasts only to make him salivate more.

"I saw how you were looking at me while on stage," you coo and pretend to unhook your bra, only to shake your pointer finger at him and he pouts again in return.

"I couldn't help myself," his voice now husk with desire, his eyes gone dark. "I hated that others wanted you too."

"Do you always want what you can't have?"

You pull your leg off the bed and turn your back to him now, turning your head to see his reaction as you spread your legs and drop your hands and take them up your thighs, scraping your stockings slowly with your fingers.

Steve hisses as you taunt him and swirl your hips with your sensual performance. Every curve, every hug from your lingerie is tantalizing. You face him again and you unhook the rib strap and let your breasts spill out, tossing the lingerie on your chair beside his jacket.

His excitement only grows in his pants and he starts to unbuckle his belt in anticipation, unrelenting his gaze at your beautiful breasts as you approach him.

"Your show isn't quite over, soldier," and you straddle him on the bed. He's rock hard and thick as you grind your wet center against him.

"Permission to make contact," he grins and you nod as he grabs your breasts and cups them in his strong hands. You moan his name and grind him further. He grabs your ass and places his mouth over your nipple.

"Uhnnnh…" you moan as he grabs you harder. His hand cascades up your back and to your neck, which he cradles so easily and licks your chest upwards. His tongue is thick, hot, and wet - everything you need right now.

"You make me want to do things to you that I can’t say out loud," he whispers in your ear as his fingers pull at the waist of your stockings.

“How about you use your lips another way then?” you ask and he catches your drift.

He grabs your waist to hoister you up on the bed and slowly peels off your silk stockings. His eyes are locked onto yours as his knees hit the wooden floor of your bedroom. He slowly kisses your calves gently as his hands roam over your smooth skin. They slink their way up to your hip bone and he grabs you by the center of your apex which makes you arch your back like the cat purring out of happiness. His kisses drift up to your thighs and he’s so close to your mound that it aches for his touch.

“Steve…” you whisper as his slightest touch is overwhelming and you want him all over your body.

“I love hearing my name across your lips,” he smirks as his hand rubs your slit over your soaked panties. His nimble fingers are seared in your mind as you close your eyes, imagining him entering you until you can’t take it any longer.

“Be a good soldier and make me cum,” you say in the heat of your arousal. The orders send him into overdrive and he nods in agreement.

“Gladly…” his eyes went dark and he moved your panties to the side as he entered his tongue in your folds, which made you moan louder. His tongue dipped in and out and then met with your sensitive pearl, sending you into ecstasy. Over and over he lapped up your sweet nectar, spending so much care and attention to your needs.

“You taste so sweet, baby,” he moaned into your sex. “Give me what I want…”His head lifted, “Now’s not the time to hold back, I want you to say my name.”

You thrust your hips as he continued faster and faster, more pressure building up, until you couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes were ever locked onto you, which was getting him hard watching you moan for him.

He could tell by the way you wriggled and writhed that you were close. He hooked your thigh over his broad shoulder and pulled on your laced panties for good measure. You bucked your hips as the sensitivity amplified and he held you down from moving out of his reach.

"St-Steve…" you stuttered as you grabbed his hair and held his face down. "Omigod, yes…omigod, I can't…"

He grabbed your ass as he continued to ravage you, and in the middle of the moment, he reached for your panties and tore the lace out.

"Those were getting in the way."

"Steve!" You screamed as you came into his mouth. He lapped you up and didn't slow down, soon entering his slender finger in you. You fisted the bedsheets and locked him into place with your thighs. He had shaved that day and his smooth cheeks grazed your legs. Another high hit and your felt it to your core, sending shockwaves of euphoria to your body and soul. You grabbed his hair harder and craned his neck, " At ease, soldier."

He laughed and wiped the slickness from his chin, only to lick his lips in satisfaction.

"You owe me a new pair of panties," you joked and breathed in heavily, leaning back on the bed, attempting to gain a thought.

He stood up and unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants to the floor. He wiped his mouth again and unbuttoned his dress shirt, revealing his white undershirt that hugged every tight muscle over his chiseled body. You hooked your index finger for him to come to you, and he quickly threw off his shirt and jumped to your side.

"I think I'm going to buy you a whole new wardrobe by the looks of it," he smiled as your hands drifted down his abs.

"Clothes are overrated anyway."

#ce hbc birthday bingo #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #avengers au #avengers smut #burlesque #bombshell

[gojology]

The Start of Winter Break. (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I FEEL RLLY SAD CUZ I WANTED TO DO THE SUKUNA BUT I DONT KNOW THE STORY ON ALADDIN SO I OPTED FOR 2 INSTEAD IM SORRY ANON. anyways i wanted to feed u guys rlly well and actually took the time to write and edit. I’M REFORMED also writing on google docs is so hard?? (reposting cuz i think im shadowbanned)

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3798

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Food Play, Nipple Play, Oral (Fem Receiving), Degrading Nicknames (I didn’t really proof read that hard but I know there’s like, a mention of one nickname along the lines of that.)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s the first day of Winter Break, and you want to surprise Gojo with a cup of hot cocoa, instead, Gojo surprises you.       Blinking your eyes furiously, you adjusted to the dark room. Immediately, you breathe a sigh of relief. You didn’t have to wake up at such an early hour, and for once you woke up refreshed. It was finally the first day of Winter Break, you had overworked yourself, making sure that you were to spend the end of the year work-free and available for as many Christmas parties you wanted to attend.        Yawning, stretching as you did so, you look over your shoulder. There’s a slight smile dawning on Gojo’s lips.  His long eyelashes fluttered when he slept. He slightly snored, grabbing at where you once slept in his arms.   The room was unusually cold. You had always awoke to sunlight streaming from the window, realizing that could only mean that another day of work was ahead of you. But now, the room was dim, and freezing might you add. You couldn’t wait to snuggle with Gojo, this was perfect cuddle weather.   Tearing your eyes away from Gojo’s pretty face, you instead looked at the door. Years of photos with Gojo absolutely slathered the poor thing, past memories all flickering before your eyes. Pictures in Disneyland, bright colors in contrast with the rather dark clothes he always seemed to wear.   Once in a while, you would see pictures of Yuuji, Shoko, Megumi, Nobara, just about every Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School member there was, and even Utahime, celebrating good times with Gojo.      You didn’t find yourself in many of the pictures, but the ones you did find yourself happened to be some of your fondest memories.   Far more common were pictures of you, with ridiculous, shit, you’d even go as far as to say downright ugly faces while he told you a stupid joke were also taped sloppily, some photos were even slanted.    Gojo had made it a firm promise to take pictures of you when you least expected it, because that’s when he always found you the cutest.   You peek at Gojo’s sleeping face once more, a slight giggle rising from your throat that you struggled to silence. His mouth, slightly agape, was now drooling onto the pillow he oh so gracefully rested on.     Jerking your head up and snapping out of your Gojo daze, you realized that you were supposed to make your daily morning coffee for you and him today. You had chewed him out multiple times, telling him that the way he made coffee was nauseating. Usually, Gojo would always accompany the bitter drink with 8 sugarcubes, which was not your thing.   He always seemed to forget, honestly you couldn’t really tell with him, giving you a mug of absurdly sweetened coffee every morning. You always foolishly assumed that he had listened to you from the last scolding, so you would always sip it, letting the coffee coat your pallet, but promptly spit it out as soon as you realized how sickly sweet it was.     “Satoru! This is too sweet!”   “Honeybun, you’re the sweetest thing in this room, what do you mean the coffee could be too sweet? Not possible.” he would inquire innocently, tilting his head to the side.   You’d frown, shaking your head and muttering about the acts of distaste you’d do to him before Gojo bursts into a fit of laughter, pointing at you and watching you unenthusiastically look back. Most likely fuming silently, but you didn’t want to tell him that.   “You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, (Y/N).”     “Satoru, I can literally not survive the day without coffee. Whatever you’re serving me is definitely not the coffee I want, and sooner or later I’ll be dropping dead.”     He would shrug playfully, as if he didn’t even understand the core concepts of what you were trying to tell him. But you knew he did, he just didn’t want to do it.    You would clench your fists, trying to look threatening. Your back straightening, and on your tippy toes even though you knew you could never be as tall as him. It never ever worked though, he would just continue to laugh harder, but that was just the routine.    “Then do it yourself, sweetie. I wake up at the asscrack of dawn just to make you a cup of coffee. I don’t know about you, but that’s the best show of love.”      “Oh I will. I’ll do it well.”      And so, you weren’t lying. The two of you began to take turns. You woke up even earlier than you did for work, and made him his coffee (with extra sugar, just as he likes it) while also making yours, making sure to relish the bitter and frankly delicious black drink, void of any sweetening. The next day, he would as well. He never listened to your sugar lectures though, making sure to add 3-4 cubes just to make you angry.    You had pretty much given up on all hope of ever getting your ideal coffee from Satoru, it was beyond him to even listen. Besides, you had grown to like the sweetness.   Speaking of brown sweet liquids, it was a perfect hot cocoa morning. The snow was beginning to pile up outside, pure white blanketing just about everything. You hastily threw on an oversized sweater Gojo owned, which you had found strewn on the ground.   You rolled your eyes, that guy was a mess. What would he do without you?   Trudging and stumbling your way into the kitchen like a newborn fawn, you flicked on the lights. As soon as the lights came on, you shielded your eyes from the brightness. Cursing as you pulled out a chair, your eyes slowly adjusting, pulling the chair over to the shelves and cabinets out of reach.   Now standing on the wooden chair, you grumbled. So much for being a good girlfriend, your legs ached for some reason, so every time you stood on your tippy toes, you winced.   Knocking down a bottle of vegetable oil into the sink, you were startled by such an incredibly loud noise. Your eyes widen and your legs tangle as you scramble, almost falling backwards. Grabbing onto the cabinet’s ledge, you breathed a sigh of relief as the chair stabilized.    This was a blessing in disguise, as the chocolate syrup came into view.   A feeling of triumph flooding you, you happily hummed gently pulling it out. Setting it down on the counter, you got down, moving the chair over to the right.   Standing back onto the chair, you placed a finger on your lips, slightly rubbing them. Your memory wasn’t doing you very well, forgetting where all the extra add-ons for baked goods were.   Your tongue stuck out to the side, swinging a random cabinet’s doors wide open. You had guessed correctly, sprinkles of various vivid colors stood idly, eye-catching colors on full display. A fine coat of dust had settled on the caps.   You coughed into your arm, now rummaging through the many sprinkles that Gojo would insist on buying because, “they were too cute to pass up.”      Sometimes, you swore the guy was a middle-aged Pinterest mom.   Yanking out a half opened bag of Jumbo Marshmallows, you did a small victory dance. Normally, Gojo would inhale the darned things, but he was asleep, and very soundly at that. Finally able to have your first taste of marshmallows in a while, you popped a couple in your mouth, practically melting.   So sweet.   Strolling over to the fridge while popping more marshmallows in your mouth, you lazily threw the bag onto the counter. Swinging the fridge door wide open, you shivered at the cold air, hauling a jug of milk out.   As usual, it was half full. Gojo would insist on eating all his cookies with milk, and if he didn’t have milk with his cookies, he would not eat them, stating that it was against his beliefs to even begin to stare at a cookie without a cold glass of milk at the side.   He was probably a 9 year old trapped in a 28 year olds body.   Humming a short tune, you poured the milk into a mug that Gojo had bought for you as a souvenir on a business trip. Painted onto it was a beautiful scene. Flourishing, vibrant flowers only half-heartedly concealing an undisturbed pond, deers frolicking around it. The mug was your favorite cup, and even Gojo, who most likely had the memory span of a goldfish when it came to unnecessary facts such as this one, knew it.   You flipped the chocolate syrup bottle upside down, smacking the top. Making a note to yourself to buy chocolate syrup the next time you went out. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer.   “Boo.”   Startled, you twirled around, expecting a rather friendly home invader, or something along the lines of that. Instead, you were greeted with Gojo Satoru’s face. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, looking at you with an amused expression.   “Scared? We’re on the same boat.” he snickered, “woke up to some loud ass bang.” Gojo sleepy whispered into your ear, ruffling your hair with his large, calloused hands. His chin now resting on your right shoulder.     “I dropped the vegetable oil on accident.” You ignored the light, fluttering feeling when he touched you.     “Gosh, you’re a clumsy one aren’t you, sugar?”       Scoffing, you whip your head back to the hot chocolate. An unhealthy serving of chocolate syrup was splattered inside the mug, already blending with the milk.   “Don’t turn your back on me, pumpkin.” whining playfully, tugging at your left shoulder. There was something about such a playful, childish Gojo that you loved. You wished you got to see it more often.    You pretend to be annoyed, looking at him, now standing up without the support of your shoulder, in the eye now. A flicker of mischievousness over his face, he looks down at you.   “How thoughtful.” kissing your temple, he yawned. “Making hot chocolate for me? Oh hey- you even got the exact same amount of chocolate I like.”   “Satoru.” hands on your hips, you were bemused. How could one even like sugar this much?    “This is an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup, and can NOT be good for you.”   His warm gaze stared back, a slight curve to his lips now. You swear you could die a happy girl now, Gojo wasn’t sleepy very often, so when he was, you made sure to relish it. Usually, when you were lucky enough to be in the presence of a sleepy Gojo, he was always softer. Giving you small, coy smiles. Your retort didn’t even seem to register in his brain in the slightest.   “I want it, though.”   You sighed, facepalming.     “Ooooh, marshmallows!” suddenly bursting with energy he never exhibited before seeing the sugary treat, his long arm extended over to the bag, tugging at it to get it closer to him before finally shoving 3 or more into his mouth.   “Satoru!” you yank his hand back from the entrance of his mouth, able to save a few, albeit a bit ugly and smooshed, marshmallows.   “Wha?” he rubbed his eyes, chewing noisily on the marshmallows he was lucky enough to get into his mouth.   “Baby. We need those marshmallows, here, can you microwave a bowl of them? Save a few for later.”   He nodded obediently, tugging a bowl out of the “washed dishes” section of the sink. Wiping it down sloppily with a towel. He dug his hand into the marshmallow bag, throwing a few handfuls into the bowl before carefully placing the bowl into a microwave, sneaking a few more into his mouth before jabbing at a few buttons.    “There.” he gave you a crooked grin and a thumbs up, walking back over to you, placing warm fingers against your cheek, suddenly jumping back.   “Holy shit, babygirl, you’re cold.”   About to respond, you too realized how cold you were. Lightly shivering, your hands seemed to be blocks of ice.   “Babe, can you go get an extra sweater-”   Hands under your sweater (well, technically his) suddenly, his warm, big hands massaged your breasts. You yelped, the hot contact against your cold skin was electrifying. His thumbs, rubbing over your nipples lazily, sent even more shivers down your spine. Quietly moaning, you looked back at Gojo, who seemed to thoroughly savor every little sound you made.   “Like that, lil girl~?”   “S-Satoru! Not now… I’m making you s-something!”   “Hot cocoa doesn’t take a chef to make.” he placed kisses on your neck, lightly suckling on your bare skin.   “I-I know, but just… N-not now.” you stammered, he was now tweaking your nipples, gently pulling them. He didn’t seem to register the request though, but instead was drawing lazily  on your breast.   “That better, missy?” he questioned, watching you catch your breath and gulp. Resting his chin on your shoulder once more.   “Mmmmm.” you responded, thoroughly enjoying his warm touch. Closing your eyes, enjoying the mystifying feeling his hands always gave you.    Loudly, the microwave beeped. Suddenly jumping up from the loud occurrence, Gojo cursed under his breath and jogged over to the microwave, swinging the handle open.   “Great news, (Y/N). I didn’t burn the marshmallows!”   Grumbling under your breath, and wishing all hell to the microwave for disrupting such an intimate event, you nodded, giving him a few weak claps for his rather stupid achievement. Gesturing for him to bring the bowl over, you pulled out a spoon from the drawer beneath you.   As soon as Gojo placed the bowl on the counter, he zoomed back to where he had left off, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. This time, he was massaging one of your shoulders.   Your breathing was heavier when he did this, Gojo noted, watching as you struggled to mix the chocolate syrup and milk together. He did this for a while, eyeing the cooling marshmallow.   He swiped up a dollop, wiping it down your neck. Letting out a gasp by the sudden warmth, you assumed it was Gojo’s mouth. To your surprise, it wasn’t.   He licked the cloud of fluff, before straight up placing his entire mouth on it, lightly sucking and licking your skin. Your panties were getting awfully wet.   “L-love, we n-need the fluff to a-add the finishing touch to t-the hot cocoa.” you would mutter, trying not to collapse from the pleasure.   “You getting wet?” now lightly nibbling on your skin, his hand left your breast, dunking his hand underneath the fabric of your panties. He sneered, realizing the puddle that had seeped itself into the material.   “Aw, you’re absolutely wet. Fuck am I saying?” he swirled his finger around your entrance, lightly dipping one of his fingers in before he took it out. Whimpering, your walls clenched around something that wasn’t there.   “Anyways, let's get back to the hot cocoa!” innocently licking his glistening finger, he looked at you.   ‘What? Y-you can’t do that to me-!”   “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he chirped back, smiling devilishly.   “That’s what I wanted before-”   “Hush up, slut.” he rubbed your head with one hand, the other, stroking your cheek.     You didn’t realize how hot you got when he called you a slut, whimpering, the hot cocoa long forgotten on the counter as you leaned into his chest.     “Aw, you’re so cute.” tugging on your cheeks softly, you look up at him, while he looked down. Even though you were his girlfriend, you didn’t really see his eyes often. They were a brilliant shade of aquamarine, flecks of a darker blue were also sprinkled amongst the sea of various shades of blue.   “You want something? You’re giving me those puppy eyes.” Still pulling at your cheeks, he stared down patiently, unable to hide the smile on his face.   “I hate when you tease me.” you blurt out, surprisingly coherent, even though Gojo was pinching your cheek. Another flicker of amusement on his face.   “That’s not how you ask for something you want.”   He stopped pinching your cheeks, now staring at you. You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking about, his face was blank, eyes cloudy.   “Mmm, I’ll give you one last chance before you get punished. Now missy, what do you want?”   You tugged at the hem of his pants, still making eye contact.   “You can’t have that, sweetie.” he straightened you back up, so that you weren’t leaning on his chest any longer. “It’s way too early.”   “Then what was the point of teasing me?” you groaned, clasping your hands together and looking at him. “Please?” you were sure to have your eyelashes flutter.   He laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, princess.”   You groaned, getting down onto the cold floor, getting onto your knees, looking at his pleasurably entertained face.   “...What about now?”    He chuckled, rubbing your head again. “No, baby. I’m just not in the mood, but I can make a recommendation that works with me. Although, you’re really cute when you’re on your knees for me.”   You nodded, nervously anticipating whatever he wanted to do.   You didn’t need to wait, though, he carried you over to the table, like a princess, unclothing you quickly. Throwing his sweater onto the floor once again, you felt your heart jump a little. A small pile of clothing consisting of the sweater, your panties, and a t-shirt was crumpled up on the floor.   He cupped your breasts, leaning over the table to look at them. His expression softened, placing delicate kisses on each breast, making you gasp a little.   “So cute.” whispering, rubbing your nipples once again.   Your hands found their home in Gojo’s hair, now clenching onto his snowy white locks. He grunted a little as you pushed his head further into your chest, effectively telling you to start suckling on the now slightly abused domes.    “Just a sec, (Y/N).” extending his impossibly long limbs to grab the marshmallow fluff bowl, his long fingers danced at the rim, then pulled it closer to his chest. Yanking the spoon out of the bowl, he spread the lukewarm fluff on your body, you weren’t expecting such warmth, and you let out a yelp, realizing what he was slathering onto you.   “Satoru! D-did you forget what I said e-earlier?”   “Nope, I just don’t care.” sadistically grinning, he ducked his head down, the space between your breasts and his face non existent. He had practically smooshed himself into your embrace, your arms around his head. He was good with his tongue, you had to admit, too good.   Goosebumps grew on your skin, no matter how many times you two fucked senseless, he still had such an effect on you. His tongue swirling around your nipple, fingers rubbing and teasing the other. You felt his hot breath against your skin, and you couldn’t help but think how good it felt.     Strands of hair tickled you as he began to noisily slurp, before coming back up again. Your breast was glistening with spit, few thin lines of marshmallow fluff left over. He licked them up, before scooping up a few dollops of marshmallow fluff onto you, looking hungrily at the attention-starved breast, before diving back down. Fingers now giving the spoiled nipple almost close to 0 action.     He licked the hard nipple a few more times before sucking onto it, as if he was a baby. I mean, he probably was. Afterall, he was a manchild. Regardless, you found yourself heavily breathing, hugging his head like it was the last thing you’d ever do. His teeth lightly nibbled, making you jump a little. Now biting onto it, you squealed.   He glanced up, before going back down, licking the sensitive bud. You felt a rush near your lower regions, a familiar warmth rushed to your cheeks.   “S-Satoru! I think I’m gonna-!”   You weren’t even going to finish the sentence, the white, hot liquid pooling out of you as soon as you uttered a few words. Gojo’s attention was now focused on you, before looking down.   “Woah, lil girl. That’s a large mess. I didn’t know your pussy needed any attention.” he directed his gaze towards your pussy, spreading the folds and softly examined it.   “How pretty.” he muttered, he flicked his thumb on your clit, making you moan loudly.   “FUCK!” you threw a hand over your mouth, he laughed, his breath tickling you.    “You’re really wet.”   Without any warning before hand, he dove in between your legs, beginning to noisily slurp at your folds, dipping his tongue into your entrance.   You began to practically scream louder, you were fuzzy, your body, your mind, everything. Unable to cover your moans, you began to grimace at the stares your neighbors would give you when you went out for the mail. Gojo would laugh, telling you that, “He was just trying to show the world you were his.” and not pay any mind, cursing him for being so skilled, you struggled to contain all the noises you were making.   You felt his tongue tease your entrance playfully, flicking your clit a few times for extra measure, you were now wildly thrashing, and you knew Gojo couldn’t wait to ridicule you over dinner.   About to straight up shove his head closer into you, his tongue finally stuck inside of you. Letting out a sigh of relief mixed with added pleasure, he skillfully lapped at your juices. Noisily slurping away at you, he glanced up.    You were trying to sit up, but were struggling as you did so. The waves of pleasure sent you crashing back down onto the table.   You felt him exhale through his nose, tickling you once again. He closed the little space between you and his face, as soon as he was in contact with your skin, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to close the distance that wasn’t there.   Now, his tongue was reaching you in places you’d never think he would. Flush, hot skin was sweating against the table surface, but you paid no mind, promising yourself to wipe the top later. Hair strands practically glued to the sides of your head due to the sweat, you whined again, feeling yourself close to cumming.   You were about to speak again, warning Gojo, but you couldn’t. Before the words could even spill out of your mouth, you felt yourself burst.   Gojo, seemingly unaware, was still lapping at your walls. You looked at him, breathing heavily. His eyes widened, and you felt him stop licking for a while, before you saw him gulp and stand back up.   His eyes twinkled a little in the light, and you straightened, sitting on the table, your heart still beating rapidly.   “You never told me you were gonna cum.”   You turned your head to the side, about to retort, before you realized the empty bowl of marshmallow fluff.   “Satoru! I told you to not use it all!” (resposting because i think im shadowbanned, please interact if u saw this!)

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #smut and more smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #hhhh #i think im shadowbanned

[londonalozzy]

Did You Know? 2/2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

Summary: You find yourself in Siberia with Steve and Bucky. When Tony arrives you get caught in the crossfire, not knowing how or even if you can stop their fighting. Other than Steve who you're in love with, Tony is the most important person to you in the world, the closest thing you have to a Dad. It's tearing you apart seeing them fight like this. What do you do? How do you stop it?

Read Part 1

Masterlist

The moment that Steve confessed to knowing it was Bucky that killed Tony's parents all hell broke loose. They crashed and moved around the space with such speed it was almost impossible to tell which one was which. All I saw was a flash of red, blue and black.

I was stunned, distraught, broken hearted. I don't know how to fix this or how to make it better. Tony was out for blood, Steve was trying to protect Bucky, and Bucky was trying to save himself. I, well I just stood there, watching chaos erupt around me, a million questions running through my head. I knew I had to do something. I just had no idea what.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Zemo, still safely encased inside his chamber. A huge satisfied grin filled his features and it was then I realised he had won. He got exactly what he wanted. He blamed the Avengers for the loses he suffered during the Sokovia attack. In his eyes we wrecked his family, so he was now destroying ours. It looks like he achieved everything he set out too.

There was one thing that was certain in my mind, one conclusion I had come to. No longer could I fight alongside Steve and Bucky, not after this. It wasn't just the act of killing Howard and Maria that made me feel this way. It was how they've dealt with it since. They'd got me on their team, had me helping them, defending them. All the while they were keeping this big, dark secret. Bucky I can understand not telling me, he had no loyalty to me or to Tony. Steve on the other hand is a different story. I chose to go with him, knowing that doing so could destroy my relationship with the only father figure I've ever known. I did it because I thought he needed me. I did it because I loved him. Just goes to show that love isn't enough, trust is just as important. As of now Steve didn't have mine.

I was pulled out of the internal war I was experiencing when a large explosion to the side of me brought me straight back in to the real one. Fire erupted everywhere and debris began to fall all around.

Before I had time to even think about moving a massive cluster of concrete and broken twisted metal began to rain down, right on top of me. I made to jump out of the way but didn't manage to break free completely. Tripping over a metal beam I awaited the inevitable crushing. There was no way I was getting out of this. About to emit a scream of terror I was immediately cut short when I was pulled out of the debris path.

"Are you ok?" Steve breathed heavily in concern, pulling me to my feet and reaching out to check me for any injury.

"Don't...touch...me," I forced out with gritted teeth.

"(Y/N), listen to me."

"There is nothing you can say that will make this better. Not a damn thing."

"I love you," he shook, cuts and bruises littering his face. Usually I'd be fawning over him, concerned about the blood and grazes. Right now though, right in that moment, I couldn't care less.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you started hiding things from me."

"He's my best friend (Y/N)."

"Yeah, and I was your girlfriend."

"Wait, what do you mean was?"

"Maybe you should work that out for yourself."

Before Steve could reply to my angered outburst, my attention was drawn to the fight going on above us, Tony and Bucky not taking a break.

Bucky managed to break free for a second, taking his advantage to run as fast as he could. Tony made to follow, floating off of the floor and aiming himself in Bucky's direction.

"It wasn't him Tony. Hydra messed with his head," Steve yelled out, grabbing Tony by the foot and pulling him back.

"MOVE," Tony screamed.

"Dad, please don't do this. Be better than them. I can't lose you. If anything happens to you..."

"I have to do this (Y/N), I have to. He killed my Mom."

With that, he bolted off and the fight ensued, Steve quick to follow suit trying to tear them apart. Before long, Steve was right back in the battle himself, he and Bucky both beating on Tony like he was a punch bag. Who was this Captain America? This man I was watching right in front of me? Certainly not the guy I fell in love with.

As the fight went from the ground up into the rafters, I watched on helplessly, knowing that if I did try and get involved that I'd be no match. It wasn't just that though. Who would I be fighting with? Who would I be fighting against? I knew I couldn't stand alongside Steve and Bucky now, but could I stand against them?

"DAD!" I suddenly screamed, watching as Tony was slammed against metal railings, Steve attaching a metal cable around his neck and then pulling him towards the ground.

"Honey, get out of here," Tony called over to me, sadness but determination in his voice as he launched straight back up into the air, right in Bucky's direction.

Tony grabbed Bucky, pulling him off of an upper balcony and then flying off the side. Before they could get very far, Steve launched himself at the two, wrapping his arms tightly around Tony's neck and then proceeding to try and loosen his grip on his friend. The weight of the three proved too much for Tony's suit to bear and sure enough they all came plummeting to the ground, a deafening shudder, shaking the building as they hit the floor.

For a second none of them moved which gave me enough time to run over to them. Bucky lay motionless, knocked out from the impact. Steve shakily got to his feet and Tony, Tony stood strong and proud in front of Cap, no sign of letting up any time soon.

"Nothing can change what happened?" Steve struggled to get out as I came to a stop between the pair.

"I don't care. He killed my parents."

Sobs started to wrack my body as they immediately went at each other again, both men failing to see the affect this was all taking on me. I was shaking, could barely breathe. As it continued, Bucky now awake and joining in with the pummelling I could feel myself losing control. Spots clouded my vision, ringing began in my ears. Just when I thought I was going to pass out, the men beat my body to it. Tony made to launch a blast at Bucky with his gauntlet, which Steve knocked away with his shield. Unfortunately the blast didn't hit the wall, or the floor, or a pillar. It hit me. I fell to the ground with a large thud, my left side erupting with a pain I'd never experienced before. Just as I spotted the fight halt, both Tony and Steve desperately rushing in my direction, screaming my name as they did so, the blackness took hold, my eyesight flickered and I for want of a better word, checked out.

I have no idea how long I was out for but when I eventually came too, I felt like I was on fire. The first person I saw was Bucky, he was standing above me, regret and sorrow in his eyes. Steve and Tony were knelt at either side of me, Tony's face plate now gone and Steve, tearing up as he compressed my wound with his gloved hand.

"If I'd known...me getting severely injured...would stop your fighting, I would have got...in your path way...sooner," I croaked with a dry throat, tears threatening to spill from all of our eyes as I struggled to pull myself up.

"(Y/N), I'm so sorry honey. That was never supposed to happen," Tony whispered in despair.

"I should have been looking where I aimed it with the shield. It's all my fault," Steve breathed out in exhaustion, refusing to leave my side. I managed to trample over to a pillar, leaning myself against it for a little more comfort as I looked on at the regretful faces in front of me. God, this hurt.

"Do you have...any idea what this is...is doing to me?" I stammered in agony, pushing Steve away slightly when he got a little too close. I really couldn't have him near me right now.

"Every time...you hit each other, you are attacking...me. Not only are you killing each other, you are...killing me too...literally. Stop this, stop it...NOW. Please...whilst we still have a chance."

"I had to protect him (Y/N). He's my friend," Steve tried to defend.

"So was I," Tony bit out.

It was that answer that gave me the clarity I needed. At first I thought that he was just angry over finding out it was Bucky who killed his parents. I couldn't have been more wrong. He was just as angry at Steve, his friend, his team mate. Steve had lied to him, kept this from him, just like he had kept it from me. I couldn't let that go. I don't know if I ever would be able to.

Yes, I felt more trampled on by Steve and Bucky in that moment than I have ever felt by anyone. But still I could not see them killed, hurt even, especially Steve. This was my opportunity to break it up. Only minutes ago I thought we were coming to a truce, I for one shining second thought I had my family back together. How wrong I was. Now, we are more broken than ever. There was no getting back from this.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?" he asked, hope filling his eyes.

"Take Bucky and get out of here," I instructed, no emotion in my voice but tears threatening to break free.

"What?...But what about you?"

"I'm going...I'm going to where I should have been all along."

"Please, don't do this?"

"You've given me no choice. I can't see you killed Steve. I love you, I do, but I can't forgive you. I can't help you either. You need to go now, or I'm never going to be able to stop him."

Tony stood in silence the entire time, shock all over his features as a result of what had happened to me. I was bleeding profusely now, my vision once again fading in and out. I had to get this done though, had to finish this.

Not giving Steve a chance to talk any more I turned my attention to Tony, tears finally making themselves known, as it started to get too much. My next words sealed my decision for all of us.

"Dad? Take me home."

THE END!!!!

#steve x reader #Steve Rogers #marvel #Avengers #captain america #Chris Evans #Bucky Barnes #bucky #Iron Man #tony stark #civil war #avengers endgame #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #oc #romance #drama #angst #steve rogers x reader #Avengers infinity war

[chokemeanakin]

Anakin Skywalker x Sick gn Reader Being a Dipshit

Summary: Reader has a cold and Anakin takes care of her despite the fact that she literally goes looking for trouble

masterlist

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711994

You’ve never truly hated yourself until this moment. 

You’re a capable individual, you know this. Living in the Jedi’s world during an intergalactic war was no easy ride, and you’d come to adapt to their hectic way of life. Through trials and tribulations, no matter how dangerous, exhausting, or mentally scarring, you’d always managed to come out on top.

Except for now.

When you needed yourself the most, you really let yourself down. 

Colossal screwup, you cursed yourself as your sweaty hand slid off the top of the pill bottle once again. Your fingers were red and rubbed raw from the indents on the lid. Useless idiot.

The strain from trying to pry the lid off the pill bottle made your sinuses clog up and your headache worsen. You squinted your eyes, shielding them from the harsh fluorescent lights as you sat in the corner of the bathroom and struggled. 

For some reason, you had thought joining the Jedi on their quest to destroy the separatists and restore peace to the galaxy would come with a ‘never get sick’ card. You never saw Yoda take a day off for the sniffles. 

Alas; here you were, curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor, wrestling with a child-proof pill bottle. Anakin was just outside, probably listening to your failing attempt to self-medicate. You promised him you’d be back in a second, but it’s been more like 5 minutes and you were sure he’d barge in at any moment now.

“Y/n?” speak of the devil. “You okay in there?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth, tugging on the top once again. The directions said pull up and twist. That’s what you were doing, so why wasn’t it working?

“You need help with anything?”

You narrowed your eyes at his tone. He was holding back laughter. 

“No.”

“If you say so…”

You had about 20 seconds before he used his weird Jedi tricks to sneak his way past the locked door and find you in your pathetic predicament. Desperately, you attacked the lid-- twisting and turning, pushing and pulling. You balled up your shirt and used it for more grip, to no avail. Finally, as a last resort, you grabbed for the scissors you kept in the drawer under the sink. You raised it over your head and were just about to stab the bottle open with the blade when the door to the bathroom suddenly opened, and Anakin was catching your wrist in his hand. He gently took the scissors out of your grip, setting them on the counter out of reach.

“What did I tell you about playing with sharp objects while sick?”

You scrunched your face up, half-glaring at him and half wallowing in your own miserable embarrassment. You had hoped you could at least take some painkillers by yourself, to prove to Anakin that you weren’t some helpless little fawn while you were feeling under the weather, but of course the child safety measures had other plans. 

Anakin took the pill bottle from your stinging hands and twisted it open with ease. He shook a couple tablets out onto your waiting palm and then capped the bottle, setting it aside.

“See?” he handed a glass of water to you with a smirk. “Not so hard.”

“Can it, Skywalker,” you threw the pills back and sipped the water. The cold liquid soothed your aching throat. “I may be sick, but I can still kick your ass to Tatooine and back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, when you’re better I mean,” he took the empty glass from your grasp and set it back on the counter. Without skipping a beat, he bent down to wrap an arm under your shoulders, helping you to your feet. 

“Geez Ani, I’m sick, not crippled,” you groaned, sniffling as he led you back to bed. You ended up tripping on your discarded boot, and would have fallen flat on your face if he wasn’t holding you. He had the decency not to mention it. 

He brought you to your bed, helping you lay back against the pillows. You watched his face contort in concentration-- eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed-- as he focused on pulling the blankets up over you, smoothing down the edges, adjusting your pillows, trailing his fingers down the side of your face in between. You couldn’t help the blush on your cheeks as he held your chin delicately in his gloved hand, leaning down to place a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. 

“You can always ask me for help you know.”

“I know,” you shrunk deeper under the covers, feeling squeamish under the intensity of his gaze.

“Is your throat still bothering you?”

You nodded, averting your eyes as you suddenly became bashful. It wasn’t just that you hated admitting to weakness-- it was also the fact that Anakin was so damn pretty, even up close, and he was fully using it against you. The boy had some wicked eye contact, and every time those dark blue eyes locked on you, you felt like melting. 

Anakin caressed your cheek with his thumb, no doubt noting the heat that pooled there. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a slight smile-- he knew what he was doing to you.

“I’ll go make you some tea.”

As soon as he left the room, you let out a long breath. It was meant to relieve some tension built up in your chest, but it really resulted in you hunched over in a coughing fit. You pressed your arm against your mouth, trying to muffle the awful barking sounds coming from your throat. Each cough felt like nails were dragging against the walls of your throat. Your forehead broke out in a sweat with the exertion, and the headache came back with a splitting furiosity.

Screw this, you decided, throwing off the covers and standing from the bed. Fresh air was just what your ailing body needed. 

You wobbled over to the balcony doors on weak legs, feeling like you could just collapse at the knees at any moment. Climbing onto the concrete wall of the balcony, you folded your legs criss-cross and watched the city lights twinkle before you. There was a cool breeze tonight and it did wonders to soothe your fever. This was possibly the best decision you had made since falling ill.

However, looking below you, there was at least a thousand feet between you and the ground. And no barrier stopping you from falling. 

Oh well, you thought to yourself. It’s not like anyone’s gonna push me. 

You sat on the balcony for a while, closing your eyes and breathing in the cold night air as you waited for Anakin to come back with the tea. It was very peaceful, and even the honking of impatient drivers in late night traffic was like a lullaby to your ears. Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, your head falling forward as you slipped into unconsciousness.

“Force, Y/n, what are you doing on the ledge like that?!” Anakin’s voice ripped you out of your sleep. You startled, gripping onto the edge of the concrete as you blinked your eyes open to the millions of tiny city lights before you. You turned to see Anakin rushing toward you, floating the mug of tea he was holding away with the force. 

He tried wrapping his arms around you, but you squirmed out of his grasp.

“You can’t touch me, Anakin, you’ll get sick,” you mumbled drowsily. You yawned and rubbed your eye with a fist as he sputtered something about how you didn’t care about that before.

“Just come away from the ledge, Y/n, it’s not safe up there!”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself to unsteady feet slowly. “You worry too much,” you told him, turning around to face the city and opening your arms out wide. “See? I’m perfectly alri-- ah-- ah-- aaahh choo!”

The sneeze took you by surprise, and you pitched forward with the force it used to expel from your body. Suddenly you were too far over the edge of the balcony, and for a moment of heart-stopping terror you were falling…

… Until familiar strong arms caught you around the waist and pulled you back to the floor of the balcony. 

“You are a pain in my ass,” Anakin hissed, ushering you inside. He closed the doors to the balcony a little too hard with the force, holding you tightly all the way back to bed.

“Damn,” you croaked, letting him drop you back into bed and tuck the sheets even tighter around you, like a straightjacket that’ll stop you from escaping again. “I almost just died.”

“You wouldn’t have died,” Anakin huffed, turning his back to retrieve the tea he left on the dresser. “I wouldn’t let that happen. I, however, just had a mini heart attack.”

“Just a mini one?”

“Stop talking, you’ll only hurt your throat more.” The panic was slowly leaving his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. To calm you down or himself, you weren’t sure, but he began brushing your bangs out of your face as you sipped on the tea. 

You closed your eyes and let yourself melt into his touch, the soft tickling sensation of his hand grazing your forehead, the warm presence of him. You sniffled lightly, rubbing at your dripping yet somehow stuffed nose with your sleeve, hoping he would never stop carding his fingers through your hair. 

“You should rest,” Anakin took the mug from you after a moment and set it aside. He waved his gloved hand, and the lights in the room darkened so that the only thing casting light was the single candle burning on the bedside table. It flickered in the dark, casting shadows over Anakin’s face. 

Suddenly you felt his hand leave your face and his weight lift off the bed. Your heart dropped with the realization that he was leaving. Desperately, you reached for him before he could go too far, latching onto the hard metal of his gloved wrist.

“You can stay,” you told him quietly. Then you added, “Please.”

Anakin tilted his head thoughtfully, staring at you for a moment. You were glad it was dark so that he couldn’t see the colorful emotion staining your cheeks. It’s not like you two hadn’t slept in the same bed together-- you were dating, after all-- but showing affection never came easy to you. Neither did asking for help, or admitting weakness.

Anakin, to his credit, didn’t hesitate for very long. Gently, he got back into bed with you, this time snaking his arm under your head so that it would rest on the soft cushion of his bicep. You turned and curled into his chest, breathing in his scent. He always smelled like leather and metal and spices. Your favorite scent in the whole world.

“How are you feeling now?” Anakin murmured as he rubbed your arm soothingly, cocooning you against his body in his own.

“Like shit,” you admitted truthfully, but burrowed your head deeper into his chest. “But this is nice.”

“I’m glad,” you could hear the smile in his voice. 

You loved his voice. Just like his smell, his voice was one of your favorite sounds in the world, coming second only to his laugh. You wanted to keep talking, to keep hearing it, but you found yourself being weighed down with a heavy exhaustion. The warmth coming from the blankets and emanating from Anakin was enough to cloud your mind with sleep, the steady drag of his hand against your arm a soothing distraction from the miserable sickness waging war inside your body. Before you could say another word to the love of your life, you passed out right in his arms.

#anakin skywalker #sickfic #sick reader #playful reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x y/n #protective anakin #soft anakin #whump #fluff #headcold #star wars prequals #star wars fanfic

[geeky-politics-46]

The Asgardian Candidate

Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover

Chapter 6 - “A Stranger To The Rescue”

The White House was still in a state of shell shock.

They had suffered two massive blows to their re-election campaign back to back at the hands of Mr. Loki Laufeyson.

The pounding they got in the 2nd debate was one thing. They had one more debate left. They could recover from that, even if it was bad.

What had essentially crippled the campaign nearly beyond salvage was something that had been completely unthinkable, until now. A sitting vice president announcing he was leaving the ticket he was currently on, for the administration he was currently serving in, to run as his challenger’s VP.

The tickets were now Laufeyson/Hoynes & Bartlet/?

After the announcement the president’s poll numbers plummeted, & campaign donors had started to bail. Everyone understood why. They had to find a candidate to run as Bartlet’s vice president. It couldn’t be just a replacement for Hoynes, they had to be better than Hoynes.

If they were going to make any sort of rebound in the polls they had to find the human personification of America itself. A patriot. Someone who could have been born on the 4th of July & made from apple pie.

It was Leo who had stepped forward with the only suggestion. He said he knew a guy who might fit that bill. That he knew him from when he served in the military, well he didn’t know him exactly, but he knew of him. After a few calls, & maybe even a bit of pleading on Leo’s part, the man had agreed to meet the president & discuss joining the ticket.

He too was a novice in politics, like Loki, but if he was half as good as he seemed on paper it wouldn’t matter.

Jed was studying the man’s records & FBI file when Leo opened the door to announce that their potential VP had arrived.

Leo’s assistant led him in & then stood behind the man utterly transfixed. “Thank you Margaret.” Leo said holding the door open for her to exit, but to no avail. “Thank you Margaret… Margaret! Thank you.” Having finally gotten her attention, Margaret quickly turned & left somewhat embarrassed at her own behavior.

Both Jed & Leo could understand why she had been so hypnotized. The man standing before them appeared perfect.

He was tall & broad shouldered, with well defined muscles. A firm yet subtlety squared off jaw, vivid blue eyes, & dirty blonde hair perfectly combed into place. He looked like Disney prince did a stint as a G.I. Joe, & then come to life.

He snapped to attention & saluted as the president rose from his seat. “It’s an honor Mr. President, sir.”

“At ease solider.” Jed responded chuckling, slightly startled by his salute. “Err… actually it’s captain isn’t it?”

The man relaxed & dropped his salute as he responded, “Yes sir, Captain Steve Rogers. If I may speak freely sir, having already been told why I’m meeting with you today. As an officer of the U.S. military I have sworn, as you have, to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign & domestic. Frankly sir, after watching him & hearing his views on how he plans to run this country if elected, I do believe Loki to be a threat to the US & the constitution if he were to be elected as president. I don’t like bullies, no matter where they’re from. Therefore it is with honor & duty that I accept the offer to serve as your running mate.”

Jed & Leo both exhaled deeply for the first time in several days, feeling the muscles in their necks immediately relax.

Jed smiled eyeing the man curiously. Could he feel it too? He had assumed most people younger than Leo & himself couldn’t feel the air of the great dictator that Loki gave off. How could they? They had never seen it in person before, or heard the tails of war while watching the flashes of pained memory in their parent’s eyes. Sure there were movies & museums, but real first hand memories of the last World War & those who could share them were all but completely gone now. This man seemed almost out of his time. As if he escaped from an era long gone, but remained untouched himself by the hands time. A memento of what America could be at it’s best.

Captain Rogers did have a couple caveats of his own to offer in negotiation with President Bartlet. He wanted to serve with honor, & he wanted to make sure he was able to execute the office in the best way he could if they won. “I do have a couple requests to make of you sir, if I am to serve as your vice president. The first is that I want us to be completely honest with each other, & if we disagree we hash it out in private together. The second is that I want to be the last person in the room on major decisions. If I’m going to serve as your right hand then I want to really participate.”

Bartlet was slightly taken aback at the younger man’s forwardness & candor. It was a far cry from John Hoynes, who had at times roiled against Jed’s decisions. Even going so far as to on occasion leak a disagreement to the press when he was really in a snit with him. Leo had always attributed John’s ill behavior to Jed coming from behind in the primaries to steal the nomination away from him. However in just a few sentences Steve Rogers proved he had more heart & backbone than John Hoynes had managed in nearly 5 years.

It Jed’s mind it wasn’t even a question. He knew he could trust this man. He felt it in his bones. He still dutifully glanced toward Leo awaiting his silent approval. Leo simply gave a single nod. They agreed to Captain Roger’s requests without hesitation.

President Bartlet then gratefully held out his hand towards the captain, “Well I guess I shouldn’t get too used to calling you Captain Rogers then. By the time I remember I’ll have to start calling you Vice President Elect Rogers instead.”

The two men shook hands & sealed their political fates to each other. If they won then they won together, if they lost then they lost together.

Captain Rogers smiled brightly & gave a slight nod as he clutched the President’s hand “Thank you, sir. You can just call me Steve. I’m with you until the end of the line.”

Leo smirked & jokingly added “See, it wasn’t all that hard finding someone.” For the first time in a long time, lately Leo had found himself tempted to retreat to alcohol. He hadn’t told Jed, but this campaign had him more rattled the longer it went on & Captain Roger’s words seemed to confirm that Leo wasn’t the only one who sensed something very wrong in Loki. To comfort his thoughts he had found himself wanting to escape the campaign problems in the bottom of an empty bottle. After all old habits die hard, & it had been a habit during the first campaign. Now he stood, his hands in his pockets, holding one of his AA chips. Thanking god (or whoever really controlled everything) for Captain Rogers. Without even knowing it, Cap had already protected one person from an enemy. Even if it was just an internal one.

The ticket was now officially sealed. It was set as Bartlet/Rogers.

—————

Perhaps he had underestimated the Midgardian this entire time. Perhaps Bartlet really was a foe worth his time & effort. It made him almost respect the man a little.

He held the front page of The New York Times in his left hand, right hand resting under his chin, studying the headline & image before him. Brow furrowed, causing his gleaming horned crown to shift slightly higher into his raven hairline.

How quaint.

There standing with him arm around the president was Captain Steve Rogers. Both men smiling & waving to the crowd where they announced their new ticket. The papers had already started calling him “Captain America”. Fawning over him as if he was some sort comic book superhero. Some of them had even gone so far as to draw him into one themselves, complete with a stars & stripes jumpsuit & matching shield.

Loki pictured a battle between “Captain America” in full costume & himself in full Asgardian armor. Fine tailored suit morphing into black & green leather with ornate gold plating, & his gold horned crown transforming into his full elaborate helmet. While comical on one hand, Loki was quite a showman. Perhaps in the event of a recount he could conjure up that outfit for the captain & solve the election that way instead. Leaving Bartlet & Hoynes to fight it out amongst themselves.

To Loki’s ears he even spoke like some sort of cartoon as well. All sugar & sweet, yes sir & yes ma’am. He questioned whether this Captain Rogers was even capable of telling a lie. Although the American’s had already had one president who used that schtick before. It was still something the crowd seemed to be eating up. Loki almost wished he’d thought of it himself, but what fun would that be for him really? The god of mischief & lies having to play nice. His nose crinkled & upper lip snarled as his thoughts soured at the very suggestion.

For every devious act or trick Loki had implemented, the Bartlet campaign seemed to be trying to one up him in a the wholesome department. Perhaps it was time to simply match wit for wit. Maybe Loki’s silver tounge had finally met it’s match. His lips pressed into a tight line, ever so slightly pulling his bottom lip in with his teeth as he thought.

The third debate was open topic, questions could come from any area. He figured that would allow him to fair better than the first debate, no need to try to memorize budget statistics or job numbers. He could just as easily pluck a number from someone else’s head. He was sure the intrusion into their mind would go unnoticed if he only did it when he absolutely needed to.

The president though would also surely fair better on the topic of defense this time around. His team would be going through Loki’s responses from the last debate as he sat there. This debate they would be on much more even footing.

He would not hold anything back this time, now that he knew Bartlet could clearly play the game just as well as he could. He would actually have to prepare & study for this debate. As much as he loved reading the idea of spending hours reading about Midgardian matters made him wince.

Loki quickly stood up from the desk. He had to act on his plan quickly before his distaste for spending time with mortals had a chance to outweigh the importance of the debate. He really wanted to win the presidency, otherwise he would never stoop this low.

He walked briskly to the door of his office, yanking the door open so hard it hit the wall with a deep thud. All of Loki’s campaign staffers froze at the sound & a thick silence fell over the entire room. Eyes wide on many of their faces. Loki had them terrified of him.

He resisted the urge to giggle with delight at the terrored faces he had evoked. Instead he calmly & quietly took 2 steps forward into the large open office space. He scanned their faces & inhaled deeply. His mind searching for who could best fulfill his need.

He found 3 faces. A male & 2 females. All rather mousey & plain. Their desks each piled high with binders & newspapers. Computer monitors cluttered with open windows. Yes, these 3 should work nicely.

“You, you, & you.” Loki pointed to each of the 3 as he began his verbal command, voice deep & thick with passioned energy. “In my office. Bring everything you have on Bartlet’s policy positions, & whatever we’ve said mine are. You have 5 minutes! Don’t test my patience.”

Loki immediately turned & strode back into his office,leaving any questions about his order hanging in their air. Eyes quickly darting from person to person around the room in both confusion & curiosity. They only snapped back to the present & returned to their work as they heard the door to Loki’s office slam shut behind him. Time seemed to suddenly unfreeze as staffers began talking again & phones started ringing.

Back in his office Loki positioned himself behind his desk. He had made it this far. He could practically see himself behind the resolute desk in the oval office. It was no golden throne of Asgard, but god he wanted it. His birthright was to rule, & he fully intended to.

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[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 156

156

At the back of the aquarium was the animal park/zoo. Lance wanted to feed the deers, so they did, his boyfriend would have adopted them all if left alone unsupervised for too long. For someone who hadn’t wanted a cow, Lance was pretty attached to his cow. His boyfriend fawning over everything that moved. Zero fear at all when it came to the snakes, where Keith liked to think he has a healthy fear of them. They did their own thing and he did his own thing. Never the pair to cross paths. How could they have snakes near open pens with pattble bunnies did his head in. Didn’t they worry the snakes would get the rabbits? The pavilion was dedicated to kids more than adults, Lance seemed to fit right in. Keith conned into rabbit cuddles. As nice as it was terrifying trying not to drop the rabbit, Kosmo was cuter when he’d been smaller. Lance just as cute as he smiled up at him holding his own rabbit happily. The rabbit in Keith’s arms was... he supposed... cuterish... until it pooped and Lance cackled so hard he had lean against the rabbit pen wall. This was why Kosmo was better. Keith taking a baby wipe from a zoo worker to clean up the mess on his hand as the rabbit was half dropped and half thrown the few inches back into its pen. Fuck rabbits and fuck snakes. They weren’t for him. He had Kosmo and he had Blue. That was definitely enough to keep him happy in the fur department.

Stumbling his steps, Keith came to a stop as he held Lance to him. His boyfriend’s colour faded from his face as sweat beads rolled down his forehead. The day wasn’t terribly warm, but the lack of cloud cover and coming out the air conditioning must have been getting to Lance. The pavilion was like a cool oasis before you stepped out into heat and the paths that looped around back to where they currently were

“Babe, want to take a break?”

Expecting Lance to say no, because he was a stubborn idiot about all the wrong things, his boyfriend nodded

“Sorry. I need to sit for a bit”

Okay. He wasn’t going to freak out. Nope. Lance had made it clear he was over being fussed over. A quick scan and he’d found a converted building with a neon sign in the window

“There’s a cafe. Let’s get something to drink”

“Yeah... I need a moment”

Propping Lance up, Keith lead them over to the cafe where he glared a couple away from the only available seats on the shaded veranda of the old building. Sitting Lance down, his boyfriend pushed his chair back, leaning heavily on his thighs as he hunched forward, legs spread as if he thought he might vomit between his feet

“Babe?”

“I’m sorry. Can you get me some water?”

“Yep. Hang on. Don’t move, I’ll be right back”

Grabbing two bottles of water Keith’s anxieties had him practicing what he’d say to the server as he took his place in line. The family at the sandwich counter were fighting with kids over having to eat sandwiches and not cream topped cake. The aircon in the house barely seemed to make a dent, and when he got to the counter he fumbled down both bottles of water, flustered and annoyed over the wait. Paying for both bottles hurt his heart. No bottle of water ever should cost $5 each. That was ridiculous. If Lance hadn’t needed water he’d definitely have had some very choice words to say over how they ran their cafe. In his rush to get back to Lance he nearly forgot his wallet, then bumped squarely into some kid that started crying. Apologising to the cranky mother who rushed to her precious darlings side, Keith had had enough of crowds. Enough of people. Like, couldn’t they see he was in an obvious rush? Or did they expect him to make Lance wait, then would complain if Lance threw up in front of their kids? People were too damn complicated. He should have been paying better attention to when Lance stopped laughing and started stumbling.

Lance had stripped off his jumper and used it to cover his belly as he leant against the veranda railing in his chair. His boyfriend still looked ill, but at least he was upright. A few people were glancing in his direction. Keith resisting the urge to snap at them for staring. If they were going to state they could at least offer assistance

“Babe, I’ve got the water”

Raising his head Lance blinked at him, a smile slowly coming to his lips

“Hmm... what? Oh. Thanks...”

“Are you okay? You don’t look like you feel very well”

“Just a little faint. And a whole lot of thirsty. Why do you smell funny?”

Keith handed Lance his bottle of water, using himself to shield Lance from those staring. Raising his upper slightly, Keith didn’t want to think about whatever had been on the kids hands, or on its face. He was going to be a horrible parent. What kind of person felt icky about a strangers dirty kid? Kids were dirty creatures

“Bumped into a kid. More like they bumped into me. I have no idea why it was on the loose”

“You were rushing, weren’t you?”

Sprung. He couldn’t help but rush. Ten minutes in a line of people who felt as frustrated as he did then turned out to not be able to make their damn minds up either. Then again, the cakes did actually look good. Maybe had Krolia not given him food poisoning he would have picked a slice to share with his boyfriend

“Maybe?”

Lance sighed, cracking open his bottle of water as he did. His boyfriend realising he was watching him

“Come sit down already. I’m alright. I’m feeling better in the shade”

“You said you felt faint. If this is too much...”

How often did Lance feel faint? Often enough to hide it from him?

“Keith, sit down already. It’s hotter out here than I expected. That’s it. I’m fine”

Keith didn’t quite believe Lance as he sat across from him. They’d done a fair bit of walking. The complex deceptively large inside with the outdoor area feeling more like an after thought. Still, this was closest thing to an actual zoo in the area. It made sense why it’d be so popular with families

“You’re frowning. What’s on your mind?”

“How often do you feel faint?”

Lance sighed at him

“It’s okay. I’ve normally had a nap by now and I didn’t sleep that much last night. But I’m fine now I’m sitting. You should drink your water or you’ll end up dehydrated”

“Are you you don’t need it?”

Lance rolled his eyes at him

“Babe. You’ve got to relax. Besides, my bladder is like the size of a walnut these days. I’ve already had to pee like three times. It’s repetitive”

“Was it because of the water?”

Maybe the sound of running water or being surrounded by so much of it was making his boyfriend pee more?

“Nope. I know what you’re hinting at and no. Seriously, they don’t over exaggerate this peeing thing. Everything’s all squished up to make space for these two”

“I’m sorry”

Lance sighed at him again. Replacing the cap on his bottle of water as he leaned on the table

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’ve got new dad jitters. I’m enjoying myself, and if it’s any indication by how much these two are moving, they are too. What do you think of this place?”

Keith let Lance have the topic change, sitting back in his chair as he nodded

“It’s cool. I mean. It’s not like hugely fancy, but it’s cool. The rabbits suck”

“I don’t know. I thought they were kind of cute”

“Because you didn’t get crapped on”

“That was definitely an advantage. It’s nice. Just seeing all these people going about their lives. It’s nice”

There was a clear “but” in Lance’s tone

“But...”

“Honestly, a kid tripped and I smelt blood. Kids trip all the time, but it got me wondering how I’d react to our kids”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. It kind of scares me. I mean, I think I’ll be okay. I think it’s just all these extra hormones amping up my senses. I’ve taken care of Pidge and Hunk before, and you without going crazy. I think I’m just over thinking it”

“You wanted to help the kid, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I think I’m touchy because it’s a kid. They’re supposed to be enjoying themselves and not face planting on the walkways”

“They’ll be fine. Seriously though... these kids are scary”

Lance chuckled, his colour still wasn’t improving but if he could laugh Keith would take it as a sign his boyfriend felt a bit better

“That’s going to be us. And we’re going to have two of them. I hope they don’t inherit your sense of direction”

“Rude. I got us here in one piece”

“You did. It hasn’t quite been the same riding around in a car since... you know”

Since Lance flipped a truck to save him and Curtis...

“You still think about that?”

“I think about how damn lucky we were. I don’t know how you’re so willing to get back on your bike after it”

“I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, my accident wasn’t that bad. And I’ve missed my bike. Do you want me to sell it?”

Lance shook his head immediately

“No. No. I mean, I don’t love your bike but you do. I want you to have the things you love. I’m going to have to get used to it sooner rather than later”

“It has been off the road as long as you’ve been pregnant”

“I know. I’m still not sure how we made the twins...”

“When a daddy loves a daddy...”

Groaning at him, Lance’s smile only grew

“When a weird vampire drinks the blood of a weirdo, magical things happen?”

“Something like that. What do you want to do after this?”

Keith had a plan of how he wanted the day to go. First the Aquarium Centre, then out for lunch, then putting on his big boy pants and facing crowds. Lance needed more clothes, especially with how large his stomach was getting. Plus, he wanted to see Lance getting excited over things for their twins. He wanted to check out furniture... maybe choose a theme? That’s what parents did right?

“Maybe take a nap? I know it’s not a very exciting outcome”

“Babe, it’s fine. We can totally head back to the apartment and take a nap. I have no idea how I’m supposed to go back to work with all this time off”

“Does that mean you take a secret nap in the afternoons at the garage?”

Hunk would let him. Matt would see an open opportunity to get up to some kind of mischief. Grease on his hands. A grease moustache. Anything was possible if he let his guard down

“No. But I have thought about it. Then I remember Matt’s there and I think again”

“I don’t think he’d play up at work. You know Rieva tried to pay me rent? I mean, who charges their family rent?”

“Parents?”

Lance shrugged

“Mami never charged me. I told her to put it towards the food bill instead. I’m paying the same amount no matter the number of people in the household”

“You’re using more power and water”

“Yeah, but I’d still rather them save up for their own place or save towards going to see Rieva’s parents. This time last year it was only me and Blue”

“And now?”

“And now we’ve got a whole family in there. I’m so grateful to have met all of you... I’m going to be sad when Curtis leaves for good. It’s not the same without him there”

Keith huffed, hoping his expression seemed as if he was acting hurt

“Should I worry you’re going to run off with him?”

“I don’t know. He does give a pretty good running commentary when we’re watching our shows together. And he’s stopped coming at me with sex toys”

“What am I supposed to tell Shiro when you two elope?”

Lance choked on air, coughing as he shook his head

“I don’t want to die... Shiro would kill me. What about you? Would you stop the wedding?”

“Nope. I’d burn down the church so you couldn’t marry him in the first place”

“Babe, you can’t burn down churches!”

Still coughing, Lance opened his bottle of water again and proceeded to choke on that too. Keith hanging his head, useless against an invisible enemy. He’d gone and made himself upset with his own jokes. Lance was right though. Curtis was into cheesy dramas and Keith really wasn’t. Asking questions only got him glared at as Lance would be forced to spend more time explaining things to him than watching his show. Slowly recovering, Lance wiped his mouth, still coughing slightly as he shook his head again

“I have to pee again. I’ll be right back”

“You’ll be okay?”

Lance gestured towards the sign Keith hadn’t noticed. There were toilets at the side of the cafe

“I’ll be right back. Here, look after my stuff”

Lance’s stuff was his wallet and phone. Keith tapping the screen to check the time and noticing Lance had half a dozen missed calls from Hunk and Matt, his boyfriend’s phone set to “Do Not Disturb”. That couldn’t be good. Pulling out his own phone, Keith opened up his contacts, calling Matt instead of Hunk. Hunk would have been the better one to call, but if something was going on, Matt would be the calmer one to relay information. The call took long enough to connect that Keith was bored of holding his phone to his ear, and a little annoyed Matt hadn’t answered immediately

“Keith?”

“You called? What’s wrong now?”

Okay. He could have hidden someone of his annoyance, but Matt could have also texted whatever was up to Lance

“Oh! Shit. Yeah. Are you with Lance?”

No. He was on a doomed mission to Pluto. Where else was he going to be?”

“Yeah, we’re on a date. What’s going on?”

“His sister showed up here today. No idea what she wanted, but she left in a hurry. Rieva saw her as she was leaving for work”

“Which sister?”

“I don’t know... Rieva said she was pretty shocked to see her, then didn’t look too happy Lance wasn’t home”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nope. She thought I should call you guys and let you know as soon as possible. She said she caught her peaking in through the lounge room window”

That couldn’t be good. What the hell was Lance’s sister doing showing up?!

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll let Lance know. If you see her again, don’t bother asking why she’s around...”

“I know it’s complicated, but you sound like you’re not going to tell Lance. Has something happened?”

Maybe the thought had crossed Keith’s mind, but Lance wouldn’t be impressed if Keith didn’t tell him

“Not that I know. I don’t think it’s a touching family reunion she’s after”

“Hunk said the same thing. Anyway, bro. I’ll let you get back to your date. Are you guys coming home today?”

“Maybe. Lance wants to spend some time with Curtis”

“Okay, well, Rieva put the alarm on. I’ll let you know if his sister shows up again”

“Thanks”

Keith hung up as Matt was saying his goodbyes. Keith now really wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t tell Lance that one of his sisters was snooping around his house. He vaguely remembered Rachel had drug problems, so maybe... she was going to break in? Veronica had kids... what had she done with them? Luis and Lisa hadn’t told Nadia and Sylvio about Lance. Or was it Lisa? Had Luis sent Lisa to ask for Mami’s ring? Maybe Rieva had gotten it wrong and it wasn’t Lance’s sister... but then who would it be? Why would some strange woman who wasn’t Krolia be poking around Lance’s home? Rome better not have reversed their decision. Fucking Matt had ruined his whole mood. Shoved the responsibility on him, and now it’d be on his mind until the end of their date if he didn’t tell Lance about it right now. Keith didn’t want to skip the nocturnal section. He wanted to get his own back over the rabbit incident by teasing Lance over a family reunion with the bats. He missed Lance’s tiny little bat form. With his chubby belly and tiny little teeth as he fed from Keith’s finger. He wished he’d taken video of Lance floating around in the ice cream container in the bathtub. Or with his bubble beard and unamused look... But if he told Lance, Lance would be depressed and worried for the rest of their visit to the zoo.

Waiting for his boyfriend to return, Keith started getting concerned as people came and went from the public toilets with none of those people being Lance. Gathering up their things, Keith ignored the few looks he got as he left the veranda area and turned the corner to head into the public toilets. Stared at as if his arrival was somehow startling, Keith made his over to the three cubicles against the wall. Leaning against the corner as if he was waiting in line, and not waiting to see who came out of which one to determine where his boyfriend was.

Pretending to be polite, Keith gestured to those actually as the two cubicles opened, with Lance in the closest, he was grateful the zoo employed the simple turn locks and nothing fancy as he slipped the edge of one of Lance’s key into the small slit, to let himself into the cubicle. Sitting on the toilet lid, Lance had a wad of tissues to his nose as he cried silently, Keith rushing to lock the door behind him and move to kneel in front of his boyfriend

“Babe?”

Raising his head, Lance hiccuped softly, relief coming into his big blue eyes

“Keith...”

That was all it took for Keith to be wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Lance shuddering as he let out an audible sob

“Babe, what happened?”

If someone had hurt Lance, he was going to murder them very slowly for daring to touch him. Logic out the window, and the numerous other reasons Lance’s nose could be bleeding, out with it

“I’m... I... panicked... and I... my nose”

Lance sounded all stuffy, as he would have if he had a broken nose or a head cold

“Can I see?”

Nodding Lance drew back, Keith cupping his face in his hands as his boyfriend pulled the toilet paper away from his nose

“What happened?”

“I panicked... and bumped a guy who pushed me... and I smacked my face”

Who the fuck shoved someone who’d bumped them by accident?!

“I’m going to kill him”

“No... no... this is my fault”

“Babe, your nose is messed up!”

Why couldn’t Lance admit that he wasn’t to blame?! Clearly the other guy had over reacted

“I... he broke my nose... and my arm... and I... I killed him”

Hang on. What? Keith hadn’t seen any dead bodies in the bathroom. A normal human had a habit of screaming in the face of a discovery like that. The only person... oh...

“Hey. Hey, you’re okay. He’s gone. He’s gone and he’s not going to hurt you again”

“I know... I didn’t mean to panic... the... the basement had a stone floor and it came out of nowhere... and I tried to hide it... but I...”

Lance was starting to smell sweet. The wanker who’d pushed him had pushed him right over the edge. He was lucky Lance was coherent enough to talk to him. Fucking Sendak

“Okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry I didn’t come faster. Does your nose hurt?”

Lance nodded, bottom lip bleeding too from where his fangs had pierced it. Lance didn’t tell him Sendak broke his nose and his arm. Keith wished he could resurrect the wank stain and lop his damn head off for himself

“My whole head hurts. He hurt Curtis and I lost my head. I didn’t... I...”

“Shhh. You were in an impossible situation. You need to calm your breathing down. Can you do that?”

“I can’t smell you...”

Thanks to fucking blood across his face

“I know. I’m here though. Breathe through your mouth. In for 6 out for 12...”

Lance nodded at him, making the attempt

“Good. Good, just like that. Just like that. He’s gone and you never have to see him again... just keep breathing for me”

As Lance kept on with trying to calm his breathing, Keith pulled off a long strip of toilet paper, starting to clean his boyfriend’s face up. Lance would heal, but it wasn’t fair that some douche took his bad mood out on him. Lance’s voice wavered as he mumbled

“Is it bad?”

“I’m pissed as hell, but not at you”

“I’m trying. I am... but... when I saw the floor I panicked...”

“Hey. You’re not to blame”

“I ruined our whole date!”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Nothing at all. You’re okay now. Fuck... I should have come in with you”

“You were on the phone”

Right. Super hearing. Lance had probably heard every rude thing whispered as people watched him recovering. He couldn’t lie. Lance deserved better than a lie, even if this wasn’t the time for the truth

“Matt called. He said your sister came to see you. Rieva didn’t know which one”

Lance’s sharp intake of breath cause Keith to knock his boyfriend’s nose, more blood running from his nostrils in a fresh wave as he hissed in pain

“Sorry! I’m so sorry...”

Lance whimpered as Keith wiped the blood up. Shiro would have once lost his shit over him doing this without thinking twice

“Can we go home? I... want to go home...”

“Yeah, babe. We’ll wait a little longer until your nose stops bleeding. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything? Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

“N-no... I scratched myself... with my nails... I didn’t...”

“Shhh. You’re not to blame and you’d be saying the same thing if our positions were reversed. Can you show me?”

Lance’s nails were long and lethal looking. His boyfriend had scratched up the soft skin of his inner left wristKeith had a fair idea of what happened. Lance would have walked into the bathroom, moving out the way of someone leaving. He’d probably looked down and seen the floor. Feeling himself panicking and his body reacting, his boyfriend would have tried to hide in the first available cubicle, accidentally bumping the guy who’d shoved him out the way. With how good Lance’s memory was, he’d be recalling Sendak’s touch, associating it with the feel of his nose getting messed up and panicked further. When had going to the toilet become so dangerous? People sucked.

“A few scratches but your jumper will hide them. You’ll be okay. We’ll go back to the apartment and we can snuggle”

“I’m so sorry... I ruined our whole date”

“You didn’t. You didn’t do a single thing wrong”

“I must have... he shoved me so hard...”

Why hadn’t he grabbed his fucking gun? Stabbing the guy didn’t seem as good as shooting him in both feet and making the man walk himself to help

“He’s the one with the problem, not you. Let me clean your chin up. You’ve got blood down you front”

Using up most of his bottle of water, Keith got Lance as cleaned up his could. His boyfriend’s scent spiking in waves, Lance not mentioning it so Keith didn’t either. Replacing the toilet paper with a fresh wad, once Lance had his jumper back on, Keith got his boyfriend standing then flushed away all the evidence, careful to triple check there was no split blood on the floor or the door. So much for the peaceful date that they both more than deserved.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

[lxstheroes]

so here’s a little plot call/starter call, and info on what’s going on with my boys post event! Capped at 3 each for now, will extend them when they’re pretty full!

alcohol tw, death tw, murder tw, violence tw, ptsd tw

Alexander Hamilton [ Hamilton, aware, human ] (2/3) - Peggy Schuyler, Lafayette

- AHam is scarred, but more so curious. He fought as hard as he can but was tempted to get to know more about the enhanced. Plots: friends, work friends, drinking buddies, political mentor(!!!!)

Emmett Cullen [ Twilight, aware, vampire ] (5/5) - Allison Argent, Jasper Hale, Benjamin, Renesmee Cullen, Allana Solo

- Emmett knows everything now and he hates that he forgot his family. He’s in constant battle with his diet, but has given into human blood during the event. Plots: people he injured, school friends, supernatural friends

Finnick Odair [ The Hunger Games, aware, human ] (3/3) - Annie Cresta, Ellie Williams, Peeta Mellark

- Finnick is scarred, from his death and now the reminder of how it happened during the event. He’s pretty much more broken now than ever but is trying to keep a strong front, still. Plots: secret therapist, people he helped during the event, friends

Goo Chan Sung [ Hotel Del Luna, aware, ghost seeing human ] (0/3)

- This cowardly boy was not so cowardly, well, until he died during the event. He’s aware again, and the ghost seeing would probably be stronger now than ever. He still works at the hotel. Plots: friends from the event, maybe some supernatural as well he could have buttheads with that reach out to him now? idk tbh just give me more connections for this sweetheart

Hercules [ Disney’s Hercules, unaware, god ] (2/3) - Fawn, Melissa McCall

- Woke up in the middle of the event, this poor sweet child, knows now that monsters exist. He’s p much just a student who has no idea who or what he is but has a strange affinity for Greek Mythology. Plots: give me some school friends for Herc, some people that may know who he actually is

Jacen Solo [ Star Wars, aware, human Jedi ] (6/??) - Tenel Ka Djo, Winter Celchu, El, Breha, Bail

- The poor boy can’t take a break, and as redeemed as he thought he would be during the first half of the event, it was all thrown away. He’s trying to be better, but is going to be shielding himself from the Force for a while. Plots: so give me friends, someone who can take him in for a job, people he protected in level 2

Revan [ Star Wars, aware, human Jedi ] (5/5) - Satine, Leia Organa, James Potter, Ben Skywalker, Ahsoka

- Shame. That’s it, he’s ashamed. He knows he broke everything he believed in and injured and killed a lot of people. Plots: confrontation, that’s it, for real, but also give me friends for Revan, like casual out of fandom work friends who work in the White House or maybe even work for the Department of Defense!

Scott McCall [ Teen Wolf, unaware, werewolf ] (7/7) - Peter Hale, Melissa McCall, Stiles, Lydia, Tara, Malia

- Died, thinks he’s a college student from DC. Some memories are blurry, like he doesn’t really know where his “parents” are, but he knows he grew up in DC. Knows he’s a werewolf but is having a hard time controlling it. Plots: people he potentially hurt in level 3, people he helped in 2, some fake college friends, exes, flings, etc.

Scott Summers [ X-Men, unaware, mutant ] (0/3)

- Also died, and also a college student in DC. His memories of the X Mansion are distorted, so he knows there is someone that took him in and helped him control his powers and raised him, but is now living alone. Plots: college classmates and friends, give scott a crew, potential fake love interests like exes and flings

Steve Rogers [ Marvel, aware, enhanced human ] (4/5) - Tony Stark, Scott Lang, Angela Rogers, Billy Kaplan

- Remembers everything, still in the police force, managed to pull out the shield from the basement idk how but let’s go with that. Still in a constant battle with sadness now that he has no idea why he ended up here and what’s going on. Plots: some police force buddies, gym friends, holy shit that’s captain america kind of fans, idk but pls give him friends because he’s sad

#hw: starter call #hw: plot call #alcohol tw #death tw #violence tw #murder tw #ptsd tw