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writingoddess1125 · 6 months

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Jealous Much

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

SPICY ❤️‍🔥 GOOD SPICY SAUSAGE

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Hard Sex, Not really but just in case Domcon, Unprotected sex. Fingering fem receiving.

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It had all started out so innocently...

Being the head doctor at such a large Base you were stationed at ment you delt with many people- A revolving door of bodies coming in to be treated by your skilled hands, but it seemed that people often got the wrong idea when it came to you and your job.

That and you were a pretty cute.

The evening had started out well, You were about to finish your shift and call it a evening to get started on the pile of paperwork on your desk, Their wasnt a lot on staff tonight anyway and most teams out on missions- As you prepared to start your pager went off and you groaned, looking directly at the device on your hip and went to your treatment room next door to your office. Seeing in the large room was non other TF 141, the group often darkening your door with their antics.

"Ah my Best Customers I see- What can I help you with?" You say cheerfully, always prideful in your bedside manner.

"He got blown off the back of the truck-" Soap said calmly gesturing to Gaz who looked- well like he'd been blown off a truck and into sand-

"Oh, Well let's get you cleaned up and checked out" You say softly, helping him from the vest and shirt to check the damage. Fortunately most of the injuries were superficial and the vest look the brunt of the hits.

Gaz stared at you starry eyed, watching how you patched him up and moved with grace around him- That and the slightly tighter scrubs didn't hurt his imagination. He'd had his eye on you for a while, every since he had seen you weeks prior.

"Thank you (Y/L/N)- You know I got to ask what kind of food do you like?" He asked, his lips turning up in a smile. Your hands freezing for a moment as you raised a man.

"Pardon?"

"Food. I'd like to know what you like, a Thank you dinner if you will" He said, The team surprised by the Balls of Kyle to openly and infront of them all ask you out.

"I'm flattered but no- I don't go out like that" You say innocently, Kyle deflating as you finished patching him up.

"What about a few drinks at the pub-"

"Gaz-" Ghost all but hissed, snapping the poor man back to reality with a pout. You chuckle at this and pat the poor man's shoulder, thanking him for the offer but refusing non the less.

Dismissing yourself politely to go and get started on the paperwork.

"Damn You did't have a chance Kyle- I've heard stories that her legs are welded shut. People trying to get at her for years" Soap said with a sad sigh to his clearly love struck friend, however in their conversation they didn't see Ghost eyes practically glowing in silent rage as he watched them leave.

In your office you sighed, feeling quite embarrassed by Gaz so upfrontly asking you out to dinner. It was sweet but you knew it would only cause trouble- the sound of your office door locking snapped you from your mind, looking up in a panic you stop the large figure standing in your office. Ghost.

"Simon? What are you-" He waved off your words as he walked over to your desk, Warmth blooming on your face as he grabbed you a bit roughly from your seat and forced you across the desk.

"S-Si I'm still at work you cant-" You were cut off as he pressed his fingers harshly against your clothed core, rubbing circles over the thin blue fabric.

"I know- How many times have they looked at you like that?" He growled, you could practically hear the jealousy rolling from his tongue as he spoke. You whimper as you feel his free hand slide down you scrubs and panties in one motion.

"Thought about you bent over this very desk"

His fingers slid into you easily began to move slowly, almost teasingly inside you to stretch you out. "Not knowing youre mine, aren't you?" Simon asked, his voice low and on edge.

"Yes Sir~"

You replied, barely able to breathe from the intensity of his touch. "Good girl" He said, pulling his fingers out and smacking your ass hard enough that it stung.

Standing close behind you, rubbing his cock against your now sore ass. You felt him push into you, Inch by inch slowly and wjth care as if he wanted you to feel every bit kf it, Bottoming out quickly with a huff. Slowly he began to move slow at first, but each thrust getting harder than the last.

"Oh fuck-!" You whimper out legs shaking as you have to bite back a loud cry of bliss. The soilder thrusts faster and harder into your aching cunt, his fingers digging into your bare hips, his breath coming in short pants.

"That's it, Good Girl" He growls out.

He pulls his hand away from your red hip and grips the back of your neck, holding you still whilst he pounds into you. You feel the muscles in your legs begin to tremble as your orgasm builds and the grip from Simon damn near makes your head fuzzy. You could feel the heat building inside you, and knew you were so close to cumming so quickly. But Simon didn't stop. He pushed himself deeper into you, harder and faster as he felt you walls flutter around him.

He began to hiss, grunting your name in your ear as his hips desperately shuttered against yours, the sound of skin slapping filling the room along with your wimpering desperate sweet moans.

You mindlessly blabbering out his name as like prayers, his hand quickly flying from your neck and covered your lips to keep you quiet, smirking at feeking you tighten by the action.

"That's it~"

He grunted against your ear, rolling his hips in just the perfect way that he knew you liked, feeling your legs shake as you screamed out against his hand in bliss, cumming all over his cock. The man only able to give a few weakened thrust into you as his own hips shook.

Feeling Simon bury himself deeply into you- Deeper then you'd ever felt before as he moaned in your ear and came, Warmth filling you as you whimpered against his gloved hand. Simon panted hard above you, pulling his hand away finally from your face he carefully pulled out of you, You giving a soft whine as he did so.

You laid there, panting hard as the crashes of your orgasm made your legs weak as you leaned over the desk for dear life, the cool wood like heaven on your scorched skin.

You felt gentle kisses up your neck as Simon pulled your panties back up and smoothed your scrubs back down like he hadnt disturbed it at all.

"You with me Love?" He said softly in your ear- you humming and nodding as Simon helped you back to your feet and set you so you were seated on the desk, you trying to keep the wave of cum from spilling from you.

"You know, you can just have me change my last name. I'm sure people wouldn't dare flirt with Mrs. Riley" You point out with a smirk, Simon giving you a half cooked glare as he fixed himself back in his pants and grabbed for his mask which he had tossed off mid action.

"Could be dangerous if people found out my wife was on base- Or they could station you elsewhere" He said, Walking over and running his large hand over your thickened thighs.

"It's dangerous either way, Besides someone is bound to find out.. Or I get sent back home if you end up knocking me up-" You point out, especially since Simon had cum inside you and knew damn well you weren't on the pill. He smirked at this and kissed you gently on the lips, a twinkle of mischief in his eye-

"Now that would be a sight~" He purred out, planting kisses on your neck as you giggled at his antics.

"Now that would be something worth takin' a risk on~" He whispered in your ear as you were picked up, getting a surprised yelp from you as he laid the both of you down on the floor of the office.

"You serious about this?~" You say Grinning up at your husband as you were laid on your medical coat on the floor. Simon nodding as he began to pull off your shirt.

"Deadly~" He purred out before the sounds of you and him giggling echoed through the office- Clothes now being tossed off fully for the next round.

Just outside your locked office door stood a horrified Soap, he had gotten there in the middle of the action holding Gaz Vest which had been forgotten and he had a few questions for you, Shocked at hearing the apparent good doctor was getting her back blown out in her own office-

However after hearing what he's just heard and the fear of discovering LT Ghost wife and hearing the unmistakable voice of his LT.. this was a fear he didnt know he needed to have. He slowly began to step away from the door as silently as possible-

He had to warn Gaz of whatever storm was coming his way for hitting on the LT wife and He really didn't want to be there for the making of baby Riley-

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sssilverstoned · 4 months

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sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

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It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

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Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff

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bluecollarmcandtf · 10 months

Text

The Family Business

The portrait of the Malik family still hangs over the fireplace. Even though they don't live in this mansion anymore, I like to look at it.

Their name used to have influence. The wealth Mr. Malik (center) had amassed in his lifetime was only eclipsed by his influence. His firstborn son, Omar (left) eagerly followed in his father's steps, greedily awaiting his chance to replace the old man. The youngest son, Amir (right) occasionally went to board meetings when he wasnt travelling the world, going from one lavish party to the next.

Despite being on top of the world, each of the three men fell far from their pedestals.

They shouldn't have tried to swindle my restaurant. My place might've been going down the toilet, but it was priceless to me. The Maliks tried raising the pricetag, but they quickly resorted to thinly veiled threats.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was tired of their smug faces and their pompous lifestyles. They didn't deserve that existence, and I was more than capable of taking it from them.

"You're gonna be my new fry cook, son," I explain to Amir, as he nervously shifts in his new uniform.

"Can I just wear something more dignified?"

"Heck, no!" I clap the youngest Malik on the head, "You are representing my business here, so you wear what I tell you to."

Amir's lip quivers, and he knows he's helpless to disobey. My mind controlling abilities have him and his family bending to my will. Their own wills have become irrelevant. It's been this way ever since I paid a visit to their mansion, walking away with the three men marching obediently behind me.

"Whatever," Amir relents disdainfully, grimacing at the humidity and oil in the air.

"I know it's not the fancy tailored suits you are used to, son, but there's a lot more pride in wearing the Grease Pit uniform.

"Really?" he scoffs sarcastically.

"Of course there is!" I remind him, "Don't you love it when you slide that yellow polo on, look in the mirror, and see a Grease Pit employee staring back at you?"

"No," Amir scoffs, but he doesn't sound convinced.

I can tell I'm finally winning over his thoughts.

"Are you sure?" I press, "Because that's not what you said to me."

"What'd I say?" he only looks confused now.

"You told me you couldn't wait to be a part of this: a down-to-earth, blue-collar life like this. That's why you applied. Remember?"

The former party boy paused, but a grin eventually stretched across his lips. It was the first time I'd ever seen his genuine smile. He was devilishly handsome when he smiled.

"You're right, sir," he sticks out his chest a little, "I'll wear the uniform with pride."

"Every day, right?"

"Yes, sir," he replies cheerily.

"Remember, the best Grease Pit employees always work with a smile!" I add.

Amir laughs respectfully at his boss's quip, turning the sticky stove on. Little does he know that it is no joke. His mind is under my control, and he's just been convinced that he's my little cook who's absolutely beaming with pride and joy in his work.

I give him a playful smack on his rear as I leave. His butt is basically mine to play, and he can only smile and shrug off my advances.

"How're the dishes, son?" I call to Omar, as he scrubs away in the back of the building.

"Screw you," the former executive mutters, "And I'm not your son."

"Oh I don't know if you want to take that tone with me, boy," I remind him, "Remember what happened last time you gave me lip?"

Omar's mouth seals tightly as he looks away.

"Go on," I command, "Remind me."

The oldest son growls, "You made me clean your boots," slamming a dirty dish beneath the steaming water with rage.

"More than that, I think," I continue, "Explain what else."

"You made me lick them!" he yells at me with bared teeth, "And when I wasn't doing that right, you made me slow down and drag my entire tongue across your goddamn shoe."

"That's right," I brush off his intimidation, "Isn't this work so much more enjoyable?"

"It's all terrible!" he growls, "Every second since you showed up has been terrible. This place is disgusting! There's mold in every corner, the place smells like rotten meat, and it's at least a hundred degrees back here!"

I chuckle at the sweat pouring down his shirt.

"Well, the AC hasn't worked for years, and the water always comes out piping hot," I explain, "But that's nothing to be upset about."

"Oh really?" he bellows in rage as he splashes more dirty dishes into the scalding water.

"Sure, don't you love some hard work?" I ask, knowing this man hasn't ever worked hard, "That's the only way you feel accomplished."

"What are you talking about?" he scoffs.

I already know he'll be easy to sway. Men as desperate for attention as he is usually are.

"I'm talking about how you love a good project. You are so hard-working. You need something to apply yourself to completely."

"Well, I do work hard," he reiterates.

"Exactly! That's why I hired you, son."

"I'm not your-"

"Right, your not my son. Im just proud of you, is all. You're my hardest worker here, and I hate seeing this place in such a sorry state."

Omar's eyes soften, and for the first time he doesn't look like he wants to murder me.

"Well, maybe I could see if I can't scrub off that mold later," he quietly suggests.

"You'd do that?" I feign gratitude, "Do you think you could fix the AC too, son?"

"I don't know how that works," he reasons.

"Oh," I give him a look of disappointment.

"But let me try," he calls, sounding slightly desperate, "I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"That's good, son," I say, patting him on the head. Omar can't help but relax as I do, happy he has earned my approval.

Both brothers are eating out of my hand. It's time to visit dad."

"Mr. Malik," I call, "How's the front?"

The mature executive doesn't even bother turning his head, stating, "No customers if that's what you mean. Can't imagine anyone coming into a piece of trash like this."

"You're in here," I remind him.

"Against my will," he reminds me steadily.

He is not going to be as easy to manipulate as his sons, but that's perfectly fine. I don't want to warp this man into the most respectful or dedicated employee. I just want him to watch as I do that to his charming boys.

"So who were you gonna give the company?"

He sighs, staring at the empty restaurant.

"Tell me!" I command.

"Amir," he frowns deeper as his voice betrays him, "Probably. If he ever grew up. Omar was too eager, but he was the backup."

"Which one wants it more, do you think?"

His lip curls warmly as he thinks about his sons, "They both want it more than anything. They just have different ways of showing it."

"Well, I doubt they care about it anymore."

His eyes finally dart to my own. I can tell the all-powerful Mr. Malik is finally scared. He has no idea what I've done to his boys.

"Hey, boys!" I yell, "Get your butts up front!"

I smirk at the petrified father as the stove simmers down and the sink turns off. Heavy feet race over as the duo reports to us. They don't mind their father. The brothers are waiting to hear what I have to say to them.

"Omar?"

"Yeah, boss?" the grown man can barely hide his desperation for my approval.

"I know you had a pretty good career before, son" I admit, winking at the stunned father, "I won't stop you if you want to go back."

"No," his voice cracks as he answers hastily. Casting a nervous glance to his dad, he continues, "I just like the work here. There's a lot to do, but I can help fix this place up."

"You can certainly try, son," I smile deviously.

"And Amir?" The boy straightens his back.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving the Grease Pit, sir," he beams. I reach around and give his rear a playful, squeeze as he smiles wider.

Mr. Malik's nostrils flair as he sees what I've turned them into, but the former tycoon can't do anything about it. I dismiss his sons to get back to work.

The man is helpless to stop his body from giving me everything I want. The mansion, the vacation homes, even ownership of their enterprises were all signed over to me.

"Keep up the good work!" I call cheerily as I leave the restaurant.

While I hop in a sports car and speed off, they stay open late into the night. A few people wander in during their graveyard shift.

When I finally arrive at the secluded mansion, they are finally closing up and cleaning for the night. Amir cleans the kitchen while his older brother mops the floors. Mr. Malik is stuck scrubbing the toilets.

When I finally sink into a massive sofa and enjoy the fire. They are turning out the lights in the back office. Mr. Malik and his youngest curl up on stuff cots while Omar stays up to take care of the mold problem. He is certainly willing to go the extra mile for me.

As I drift off, I chuckle at the portrait of the three men. It's a silly thing to have such a grand painting of three fast food workers.

#gay hypnosis #mind control #hypno story #male transformation

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martyrmurdock · 1 year

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓

♡ note: frankie really is the king of my heart ♡

♡ pairing: frank castle x gn reader

♡ word count: .8k

♡ tags: fluff, mentions of blood and injuries (not graphic), sweetheart used a pet name for reader

it is well past two in the morning by the time frank enters the apartment. within the walls that have housed him for the past few months, it is dark as night save for the dim light flickering every now and then in the kitchen. he does not bother with taking off his combat boots, dirty with a mix of grime and blood, but he does soften his steps, his footfalls nearly silent as he makes his way to the kitchen, drawn in like a moth to an open flame.

he stops right at the entrance of the kitchen, his broad frame taking up the entirety of the narrow space separating the kitchen from the rest of the room. you're the sole occupant of the kitchen, and frank quietly observes you. he'll make himself known or you'll notice him, but before then, he takes the sight of you in.

you have a soft throw blanket, which you bought on sale from the department store, wrapped around your shoulders. beneath the blanket, you're wearing your pajamas, which consists of one of frank's t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that are a good few years old by now. you're slightly hunched over the counter. there is a white mug printed with some design that you found cute when you first saw it that sits between your hands as you stir the liquid, deep brown in color, within it using a small metal spoon.

as if you can feel frank's eyes on you, you look up at that exact moment and meet his gaze. there is no indication of any surprise or shock on your face when your eyes meet frank's. your eyes merely crinkle at the edges as your lips stretch into a smile, softened by the sleepiness you must be feeling.

you lift the mug you're holding, and frank can see the flowery pattern that decorates the space between your fingers. "you want some hot cocoa, frankie?"

the corners of his lips twitch.

"i'd love some," frank says, even though he's not the fondest of hot chocolate. he is not lying, however. he thinks he would agree to anything you asked of him if it made you happy.

he watches as you open up one of the cabinets and grab a mug for him, the matching one to the one on the counter. you glance back at him and make a shooing motion.

"go get yourself cleaned up while i make you a mug."

frank knows better than to argue with you and nods. but before he leaves for the bathroom, he enters the kitchen and slowly walks until he is right beside you. you angle your body to face him, looking at him with an unspoken question written across your face. frank answers by pressing his forehead to yours. your eyes flutter shut, and a comfortable silence falls over you like a gentle wave.

frank breaks it with a "thank you, sweetheart." his lips brush against your temple before he leaves the kitchen to go get himself cleaned up. he may not be seriously injured, but he is still covered in filth.

he quickly washes up in the shower, scrubbing away all the grime and dried blood that's stuck to his skin. it swirls down the drain before disappearing from frank's view. once he's satisfied with his state of cleanliness, frank turns the water off. while mist from the heat of his shower still clings to every surface in the bathroom, frank diligently dresses his wounds before dressing himself.

a fresh mug of hot chocolate already sits on the counter, still steaming and waiting for frank, by the time he's finished cleaning himself up. your mug, empty now, is placed in the sink, to be washed at a later time.

once you notice frank, you carefully pick up the mug, mindful of how hot the ceramic is, and hold it out for him to take. his fingers overlap with yours, and he lets his touch linger, only briefly, before he eventually takes the mug from you.

"thank you, sweetheart," frank says again. he tilts the mug back and takes a long, slow sip of the hot chocolate, letting the warm and rich flavor lie on his tongue. “tastes great,” he says, his words truthful and honest. frank may not love hot chocolate, but he sure as hell loves the way you make it. you make a mean hot chocolate.

“i’m glad you like it,” you say, giving frank a soft, sloping smile. you pull your slipping blanket tighter around your shoulders before waddling closer to frank. you open up your arms, inviting frank into your blanket. he silently accepts the invitation, wrapping an arm around you and gently pulling you close to him. you press your cheek against frank’s chest and loudly sigh in contentment. “things taste better when they’re made with love, don’t they?” you muse.

frank takes another sip of hot chocolate, warmth seeping into every fiber of his body and settling deep into his bones. the corner of his lips quirks up in a small lopsided smile, one that’s unbearably fond and soft. one that is reserved only for you.

“yeah,” he says, “yeah, they do.”

#frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #frank castle x gender neutral reader #the punisher x gender neutral reader #frank castle x gn reader #the punisher x gn reader #frank castle fluff #martyr writes #saint.frank castle

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knabyamjj · 2 years

Text

“Just Y/n?” | b.b x reader |

Bucky Barns X Reader;

Summary: You moved in to the avengers compound to discover you new roommate/neighbor, but things take a turn.

WARNINGS: SMUT !!

Word Count: 1,722

You moved into the avengers compound earlier that day, filling your new room with cardboard boxes, packed with your belongings. You had some help from some other roommates as well earlier. You already met multiple people in the compound, except your next door roommate, who you share a bathroom with. He wasn't home at all today, yet you didn't think too much of it. though It was getting late, you still had multiple unopened boxes on your floor. Deciding to wrap up unpacking for the day as it fell gloomy outside, you changed into some flowy pants and a tight white tank top. Attempting to get comfortable you also threw your hair into a loose knot at the top of your head. Making your way to your creaked open restroom door, you stumbled over some belongings scattered on the floor. Quickly kicking them out of the way.

Entering the room, you had the basics set up, such as your makeup, toothbrush, etc. But you still had a small box on the counter you had to organise. As you were unboxing, you heard a noise to your left. Turning your head revealed a tall fit figure, he was shirtless. His head was looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had plaid, grey sweatpants that just hung past his waist, disclosing his v-line. He had a metal arm, it caught you off guard for a moment, yet you quickly snapped back to reality. It was hot. Everything about him was. You speedily turned your head back in front of you, feeling a wave of heat pass by onto your cheeks.

“Oh, my bad.” the deep voice spoke. “I didn't think anyone was in here.”

“No worries,” your head still filled with the image of his toned body. “Can I?” he questioned. You tilted your head at him, this time meeting his eyes. His were mesmerizing. You were a bit confused at the question asked, until you heard the voices play. He was asking for permission to brush his teeth. “Oh- no, no. do whatever you need,” you replied.

“Bucky,” the dark haired mans voice announced.

“Y/n.”

“Just Y/n?” he asked,

“Just Bucky?” you teased. You could see his smirk in the mirror as he stared at you after your snarky remark. You heard the scrubbing of the toothbrush on his teeth as you put away skin oils and lotions under your sink. His eyes were still on you, making your body feel like it was on fire. His thoughts spoke to you again, this time hinting that he was looking at your slightly revealed cleavage.

You scoffed, “Can I help you?” his body was leaned against the door frame, just admiring you. Even after your question, he ignored you, going back to cleaning his teeth over the sink. Eventually, you ended up joining him, also grabbing your toothbrush. The room was silent, besides the sound of wishing from the bristles.

“Well, hopefully I'll see you later, “Just Y/n.”

You chuckled slightly at his teasing, “Hopefully.” you returned the cockiness energy, winking. He couldn't help but smile, dragging his body around and out of the room.

Finally, you finished in the restroom. To be completely honest, you couldn't get him out of your head. He was very attractive, you admitted. “No, Y/n, don't.” you muttered to yourself, attempting to snap out of this mind set. You couldn't think about anything else. His hands were so masculine, his body was so flawless, not to mention that steel arm. Oh what it could do. You were so needy for his touch. Every part of your body was aching for him, yet you just met the man. You've never felt so desperate.

“Fuck it.”

You sat up out of your bed, sprinting through your room and the shared washroom.

Impatiently, you knocked on the other side of his door. Not long after, you were greeted with the attractive man once again.

“I knew I'd see you again.” he pulled you into a rough kiss, wasting no time. You could still taste the mintiness of the toothpaste on his lips and tongue.

You followed his lead, backing up into his room. It smelt like expensive cologne with a hint of vanilla. You tried to peek around his room, still melted into the kiss. It was extremely dark, the only light coming from the slightly opened restroom door.

He licked your bottom lip, demanding to enter your mouth. You insisted, giving him the perfect opportunity to explore your opening. His veiny hands were on your hips, quickly pushing you gently on the bed backwards, crawling over your touch deprived body. “Shit,” he groaned into your mouth, his hands touching anywhere they could. You couldn't help but to moan, his sizeable hands teasing your curves.

“Bucky-” you whimpered out.

“Shh, we don't want anyone to hear how desperate you are for me, now do we?”

He kissed your jawline, making his way down to your collar bones. You laid onto your back comfortably, head on the pillows. He looked up at you, asking for permission to take off your tank top. You nodded in response, squeezing his bedsheets impatiently. You weren't wearing a bra since you were planning on going to bed earlier tonight, obviously that changed.

He kissed softly down your stomach, lowering your pants the more he kissed, leaving you only in your thong. His breath hitched, admiring your almost naked body.

“My god, Y/n. Look at you.” his lips made their way back to yours, untying his pants mid make out. Sliding them off, he was left in his boxers. You could see the outline of his hard bulge, begging to be let out. Begging to be touched. Your mouth gaped open as he slowly slid them down, you didn't take your eyes off the sight. Boxers now off revealed his long member,

“Bucky that is too-” you attempted to explain your concern, yet Bucky knew how to take care of you.

“Come on, you can take it.” He insisted, putting his head in between your legs. He trailed kisses and hickeys along the inside of your thighs, the teasing was too much to handle. Your head turned, facing the wall from the embarrassing look on your face. Suddenly, you felt a wet feeling on your cunt, causing you to jump onto your elbows in shock, facing him once again.

“Eyes on me, doll.” his raspy voice growled. The brunette's bright eyes sunk into yours, making the heated energy rise more and more. He removed his head, replacing it with his hard, groin area. Your hands were now gripping onto the pillow under your head, preparing for the pleasurable feeling about to take place.

You felt his member slowly slide into you, making you gasp out loud. It didn't hurt at all, you were too horny to feel any pain. You needed him, all of him. From your reaction, he kept doing deeper, starting a stroking pattern as well. You couldn't hold in your moans any longer, accidently letting one slip. Buckys hand covered your mouth immediately,

“So needy for me huh?” He whispered seductively in your ear.

“Quieter, unless you want everyone to hear you.”

His pace became faster, adding deeper strokes. His hand was still on your gasping mouth, in case you let one slip on accident again. The two of you were breathing heavily, eyes meeting each other, then staring at one and others panting bodies. Buckys fingers were now in your mouth, covered in your wet, hot saliva. His mental arm was gripping your hip, matching it with his strokes. You felt overwhelmed with pleasure, he really knew your weak spots now. Not to add how hot his groans were.

“I'm- I'm going to-” You could barely finish your sentence, your body and mind felt so good. You words were extremely breathy

“Me too doll, let it go. Let it go all over me.” he sucked on your neck, now pinning your hands above your head. Your legs were shaking as you released all over his erection. He was edging himself for as long as he could, letting you ride out your orgasm. Bucky swiftly pulled out and finished all over your lower stomach not long after. You both stopped to catch your breath,

“Let me clean you up. Stay here.” he spoke as he walked into the washroom. Him opening the door caused the light to shine in your eyes. You covered them with your forearm, still laying down with weak legs. The light disappeared slowly, Bucky returning to the bed..

“Sorry, was it too bright?” he chuckled. His laugh was even perfect. He wiped up his mess with a warm washcloth, “Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded, still a bit embarrassed of what just happened. “Do you think I could just crash in here tonight? I don't think I can get up.” you laughed off your embarrassment. “Of course, I'll get another pillow.” he flashed a warm smile.

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You saw the bright orange sunlight shine through the blinds, painting the room. To your left you saw Bucky in a deep slumber. His face rested gently against his pillow, lips perfectly pink . you wanted to kiss him, badly, but instead blocked that urge and went to go get some coffee. You threw on a t-shirt, along with some shorts and headed downstairs.

You were greeted by Natasha and Steve, the early birds. You weren't much of a morning person, but surprisingly very slept well.

“Good Morning,” Steve smiled, bringing his attention away from his newspaper.

“Morning Y/n,” Natasha added after. You gave them a welcoming smile.

“Morningg~” you hummed, bring a cup of hot coffee towards, grabbing it mid air.

“Is that Buckys shirt?” Nat added smirking. You froze, was it? Did you accidentally grab it instead of yours?

“Oh, It um- must have been a mix up with laundry.”

You lied, hoping they would believe it.

“Huh, so that's where that shirt went.” you jumped a little after hearing the raspy voice. You saw Bucky standing beside you.

“Mm-” Steve mumbled with coffee in his mouth, hinting he wanted to say something.

“Bucky, this is Y/n. They just fully moved in yesterday.” He gestured towards you.

“Just Y/n?” He smirked

“Just Y/n.” You smiled back.

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns smut #falcon and winter solider series #james buchanan barnes #smut #sebastian stan #bucky barns imagine #marvel

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inkwell-and-dagger · 1 month

Text

Fight to the Death

A young adult Foster drabble, five years prior to the events of How To Kill An Immortal

TW: violence and a lot of blood, and that's pretty much it :3

—————————

Foster never exactly bothered to wash the blood of their hands at this point. They knew it'd be a permanent part of their very identity; whether that be physically or mentally, they didn't know yet. Hours spent scrubbing their hands clean, down to underneath their sharp fingernails, never satisfied them, so why bother anymore? They didn't want to spend more on their water bills than absolutely necessary.

They didn't know why they were complaining, though; after all, they kind of asked for this. It was partially their fault they got into this sketchy business, shedding blood for nothing more than money. And it wasn't like they could back out of it now, having been here since they were eighteen; they were twenty-one now, and despite how young they were, they already felt like they'd wasted their life doing this fuck-all excuse of a profession. They didn't doubt that they looked like they fit the part, too.

It was an average night for Foster; if the concept of an average night consisted of beating the crap out of some willing stranger in a crowded warehouse. Frigid midnight air nipped their blood-splattered skin, limbs stiff and sore, but pure adrenaline drove them onwards.

They had forgotten when their nose had begun to bleed, a metallic taste coating their tongue, but the pain had subsided to a small ache by now. Punch after kick after slice after scratch; they felt like a wild animal.

Their ears were ringing, and maybe that was from how loud the place was, or from being hit on the head one too many times. It didn't deter them.

Their movements faltered when their opponent fell limply to the ground, their own hands drenched in blood from the past few hours spent fighting back-to-back. With heaving breaths, they attempted to drown out the cacophony of cheering, leaving the vicinity with long strides before anyone could congratulate them up close.

They especially hated this part. Being congratulated, praised, for what? Potentially killing some random person for money? For fucking money? It was ridiculous to think that everyone thought that tj u wanted the praise.

They found their way outside the building, not bothering to clean their hands. One way or another, the blood will always remain.

The quiet of the night was welcome for once. The air inside made them feel lightheaded, but out here it was cold. Sure, it bit at their cuts and bruised flesh, but it was calming, in a strange way.

They hadn't noticed that they'd gotten company until the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat ripped them out of their train of thought. "Earth to Mr Canavan?"

"Mx Canavan, please."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Sure you are."

Their company responded with an amused chuckle, walking over to lean against the wall beside them. The man was larger than them, in both size and muscle, but his expression was almost compassionate. Milky white hair styled into an outgrown mullet, framing pale skin and paler eyes. A strong Texan accent pulled at his words. "What's got you so down, huh?"

A frown tugged at Foster's lips. "Bunch o' shit. Don't really know why you're so interested, though."

"Just thought I'd check in," He chuckled, "See how those fists of yours are handling so much action?"

"You're so funny."

"I like to think that I am."

A long stretch of silence followed, in which Foster took a small peak at the man. They'd seen him around in the fights every now and again. He looked like an interesting guy.

"..If you don't mind me being interested in your, uh.."

"My huh—?" He met their gaze, raising a platinum eyebrow. "My— Ah, I see. I don't mind."

Their own eyebrows raised in surprise. "...Albinism, innit?"

"Exactly that, young man.. wom—.. person? Is there a..?"

"Just use man for now, I don't care."

"If you say so," The man smiled, and continued. "Yeah, I've got albinism."

"You look cool."

"Thanks, kiddo."

"Don't call me that." They murmured, a certain light fading from their eyes.

"...Alright."

Another beat of silence.

"..What even is your name? I don't know you other than your surname."

"Uh.. I'm Foster, I guess."

"Interesting name."

Foster raised an eyebrow, but wasn't too bothered. They weren't going to bother analyzing whether that was sarcastic or not. "Thanks."

"Where're you from? I like your accent."

"Uhm, Durham. Not far from 'ere."

"Ah, I see. I've always liked you Brits' accents."

"...Alrighty then, mate."

The man sighed, wrapping a loose arm around Foster. "Come on. Don't want you getting too cold out here."

Foster gave him a look. "Why do you care so much?"

"I know a troubled person when I see one, young man."

They sighed, but didn't respond, instead just begrudgingly following him inside.

"Go clean yourself up, or whatever you need to do. I assume you're done for the night."

"Yeah, yeah, on it, boss." They drawled sarcastically, shoving their bloodied hands into the pockets of their jeans. The man responded with an amused scoff.

"What's your name, then? You know mine, it's only fair."

"I'm Ezra. Ezra Hendrix."

—————————

HTKAI Taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @ash-1s-wr1t1ng @whumpy-wyrms @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox

#made this on a whim because i had a lore idea <3 #Ezra's trying his best okay #he gets better in the future i promise. anyway sudden lore dump teehee #How To Kill An Immortal #foster canavan #ezra hendrix #whump drabble #whump #whumper #whump oc #oc whump #whump writing #writing #oc writing #whump tag #whumpblr #whump community #warning this hasn't been proofread. at all

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

The Key

Summary: A broken furnace and a slip of the tongue lead to a special gift from your very stubborn boyfriend. Andy Barber x Black Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Protective Andy Barber, Insecure Reader, Pet Names, Light Smut, Implied Oral (fem receiving), Cursing, Minors DNI.

A/N: I don't know where this came from, but it's almost 3AM and I need to sleep. Anyway, I'm halfway done with like eight different fics, most of them requests. But then my writer's block kicked in. Please enjoy this installment while I try to get my life together. Part of my Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own.

___

"Ack, Andy Bear! What are you doing here?" You squeal as your man strides through your front door with you in his arms, your short legs wrapped around his trim waist. "Sh-shouldn't you be packing? Ope - don't forget the door!"

His booted heel kicks it closed. "Had to come check on you." Andy responds before brushing his warm lips over your own. "I'm your man, baby. It's what I do."

"But I'm fine..." You tell him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his clean, masculine scent. "I don't need anything."

"No, you said you were cold. That makes you not fine." He tells you as his hand skims its way under your sweatshirt to lightly stroke your lower back. "I can't have you over here freezing while I'm out of town - I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I'd be too busy thinkin' about my baby girl home all alone just shivering."

"Oh, my goodness, Big Man. My landlord will be by to fix my furnace in a couple of days. Until then...I guess I'll just have to keep doubling up on sweatshirts." Wanting him to relax, you begin whispering sweet kisses along his bearded jaw, nuzzling at the soft scruff with your nose.

"A couple days is completely unacceptable." He growls, his tone letting you know that he was in no mood to argue. "It's November. And we live in fucking Massachusetts."

"Andy, sweetheart..." He shifts your smaller frame so that you're resting comfortably on his hip. Your boyfriend then carries you to your room and gently deposits you on your pink and periwinkle-colored duvet, all the while ignoring your feeble protests.

"You're staying at my place until that Ralph fucker decides to get off his ass and do his fucking job." Your man informs you as he begins rifling through your drawers, pulling out items and then haphazardly tossing them into your overnight bag.

God, how you adored every inch of your big, overbearingly ridiculous man.

"Honey, his name is Rodney. And I'll be fine. If it gets too bad, I can go stay with Melissa or something."

"Nope." Andy grunts, holding a pair of lacy pink panties up to the light. "The matter's already been settled. I want you in my home, snuggled in my bed, all tangled up in my of the sheets."

Shaking his head, he tosses the underwear back inside before muttering something about you "only needing the essentials".

Wait. Since when did those no longer fall under the category of essential?

"How many bras do you think you'll need? Eh, fuck it. You can bring 'em all if you want. It's the panties I have a problem with. Damned things always get in the way."

You scrub an exhausted hand over your face as your six-foot-something boyfriend remains hunkered in front of your dresser, quietly debating the usefulness, or lack-there-of, of your underthings.

"They get in the way of what?" Of course you just had to know.

"My fun." He grumbles, flashing you a petulant look. "So they stay here. Shit - I left my garment bag by the door. Go on and snag a few blouses and some pants, baby girl, and I'll help you get them all packed up before we freeze to death in here."

"Oh. My. God." You roll your eyes. It wasn't even that cold.

At least not yet.

"Andrew, darling, I never actually agreed to go with you. Plus, I don't even have a key to - oh." Your stubborn bull of a man silences you with a heated look before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small white box tied with a black ribbon.

"I was planning to give this to you on your birthday, but this seems like a much better time. As of now, I want you to consider my home your home too."

Removing the key from the box, you stare down at the shiny piece of metal your man had made especially for you.

Why did the weight of it feel so good resting in your hand?

"Thank you." You whisper, tears burning the back of your throat.

"You're welcome, Y/N. I want you to use it whenever. Come stay for a night, or for a week..."

Or, for forever. He thinks, letting the unspoken words hang in the air between you.

"But as for your not agreeing to go with me, well, I'm afraid that just won't work." Andy tsks as he zips up your duffle before unceremoniously tossing it into the hall. "One way or another, we're getting you out of this ice box, little one."

"Okay," you try again. "But what about my car? I really don't think -"

"Why are you fighting me on this?" He asks, his sensual lips set in a thin, firm line. "I need you some place safe and warm while I'm busy shaking hands and negotiating deals in D.C."

Your eyes stray back to the key that is now nestled safely in its little box filled with pink tissue paper.

"Answer me, please." Oh, Andy was using his attorney voice, the one that commanded both respect and attention in the courtroom.

"I - I just don't want to be any trouble. I feel bad for even saying anything about my stupid heat in the first place." You admit with a resigned shrug. "You need to be getting ready for your trip, but instead you're - you're here."

"I'm here because you need me."

"But I - I don't." You wince as those two words come tumbling out of your mouth.

Because it was a lie. You did need him.

"That scares you a little bit, doesn't it? The idea of needing someone, of needing me."

"No." You feel your lower lip begin to tremble ever so slightly.

God, yes.

"Y/N, how many times do I have to remind you that we're in this together? I'm your man. And I'm old-school when it comes to that shit. I believe in taking care of my woman, in providing for her however I can."

"I get it, Andy." You do your best to look at everything and everywhere but him. This man had a knack for making you feel vulnerable, and you weren't always comfortable with that.

"No, you don't." Using two long fingers, he tips your chin so that his soulful blue eyes clash with your own. "Whether you realized you were doing it or not, you called because you needed me today. And it's my job to take care of you - all of you."

"But I don't want to be a job for you. A job runs the risk of becoming a burden real fuckin' quick. And then when it becomes too much, bam! You run the other way." You jerk away from him, preferring to stare at your fuzzy sock-clad feet, wishing you could simply melt into the floor.

And there it was. You were afraid that this man would drop you like a bad habit the moment you became a burden. And as dramatic as it might sound, there was a part of you that knew that your heart might never fully recover something like that. Not with him.

Things are quiet for a while. And then Andy settles on the bed next to you before pulling you flush against him. The two of you are so close that you're practically half sprawled on his big lap, your bottom resting atop his thickly muscled thighs.

"Then please allow me to rephrase. It's not just my job to take care of you, it's my privilege, baby girl."

A sniffle escapes you before you can catch it.

"You're a strong woman. Strong enough to reach out when you need me. The same way it takes a strong man to lean on his woman. Understand?"

You nod, closing your eyes as you do.

"Look at me and say the words, Y/N." Your Big Man implores you before kissing the top of your head and burying his face in your curls. "I need to hear 'em, please."

It takes you a couple of seconds, but eventually you muster up enough courage to do as he asks.

"Yes, I - I understand. It takes a strong woman to, um, to lean on her man."

"Good girl."

"And please believe me when I say that your trusting me with your problems doesn't make you a burden. Not now, not ever. We're partners, baby."

For now and forever. Andy thinks to himself. It's clear as day to me, I just need her to see it too.

"Yes, we are, my sweet Andy Bear. I'm sorry for being such a neurotic mess sometimes. I know you must think you're dating a lunatic but -"

"Yep, I am." He sweetly interrupts. "But you've also claimed a crazy, possessive bastard as your man. So, I'd say we're pretty even." You feel another brush of his lips against your skin, this time on your temple.

The two of you sit there for a while in silence, simply enjoying each other's warmth. Truthfully, it wasn't that cold in your apartment, but according to the forecast, that would change over night. You needed to be some place with working heat and a comfortable bed.

And your Andy Bear came with all of that, complete with sheets and pillows that smelled just like him. Of course you'd find a way to pay him back. Maybe you'd cook him a big dinner, or buy him season tickets to the Patriots, or --

Your thought stream is interrupted by the sound of Andy's gruff voice.

"I think we need to do something to quiet that beautiful mind of yours, don't we?" He purrs, before lavishing the column of your throat with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

And then you feel one large, slightly calloused hand go to rest on your chest. Using just a fraction of his strength, he gently forces you onto your back. A shiver courses through you as he runs his palms down the length of your body in an act of raw, unbridled possession.

Lifting your ass, you allow him to remove your black leggings. He makes sure to take his time, dragging the thin material across your heated skin with agonizing slowness.

A breathy moan escapes your lips when he parts your thighs, baring your panty-covered pussy to his predatory gaze.

"I'd like to rephrase my earlier statement one more time if I could."

Without warning, Andy leans in and buries his face between your legs. He takes a moment to inhale your scent before nuzzling your swollen clit through the damp fabric.

"Oh-oh-kaaay." You whimper as he briefly sucks the sensitive bud into his warm, waiting mouth. "

"It's my job, my pleasure, and my privilege to keep my lady's sweet body warm and her greedy cunt stuffed full. And I'm a man who believes in honoring his fucking commitments."

You cry out when he rips the lace from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable from the waist down.

"This is mine, baby. All mine. Now, lie back like a good girl and let me show you just how much I enjoy caring for my woman, starting with eating the fuck out of her pretty little pussy."

END

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ceexb · 10 months

Text

Errand runs with Hobie head canons

Summary:random head cannons of how I think it would be to run errands with hobie.

Pairing:Hobie x black girl friend

Words:740

Disclaimer:this is my personal view on how I think he would act. Also never claimed to be a writer

For songs sometimes i just put wtv song matches the story vibe.

-As the significant other of Hobie, whether it be as his girlfriend, wife, or best friend (since he's not one for labels, you take all three roles), but today you become his passenger princess during errands.

-I could see Hobie driving a van instead of a car,and I feel like the van would look so cool. something spray painted or what not.

-with tinted windows to hide from the pigs,12,or the ops (depending on what you guys call the cops.)And for when you guys wanna get nasty in the back.

-the back would maybe have like

A comfy setup of blankets and pillows.

-You don't even need to drive or do anything, to be honest. Your only task is to sit there, and look pretty. You have the privilege of adjusting the air conditioning or changing the radio station to any song you desire and readjusting your seat.

-I can just picture you and Hobie making stops at gas stations for snacks. You would keep an eye out while he discreetly takes some snacks and slips them into his pocket. You would engage in conversations with customers at the front as a distraction and politely hold doors open for people.

-The first time you both attempted this, you were frightened of getting caught, so he had to reassure you.

"Hobs, wait. I'm scared. What if we get caught? What if I mess up?"

"You won't, I promise," he replied, placing both his arms on your shoulders and looking down at you through his mask.

"Just do what you do best ...”

“Oh yeah ? and what is that” you curiously asked

“chat."

"Excuse me, sir... How's your day going? Isn't it a beautiful day?"

-Your voice trembles with nervousness, beads of sweat forming as you nervously adjust your collar.

-You engage in conversations with the employees at the front, discussing the weather or bringing up random topics to create a delay.

-Once Hobie has gathered all the drinks and snacks, he walks up to you near the door, tilting his head and signaling for both of you to leave.

-Before the employee even realizes what just happened, you two are already driving off, snacks piled up in the backseat.

-I imagine he would surprise you with a cute stuffed animal he found on one of the shelves and two large frosty drinks.

-You sit in the passenger seat, sipping your drink while he occasionally glances over at you, his attention mostly focused on the road. He smiles, and you feel happy and content, your tongue turning blue from slurping your drink.

"Blue raspberry and cherry, quite a crazy mix,innit ?"

"Just don't drink too fast, or your brain will..."

-Too late.you’re already gripping your throbbing head in pain from the cold shock of the ice slurpy.

-He’ll just be laughing out his damm draws cause he thinks it's the most funniest thing.

-One of the initial stops you two would make is at the car wash because Hobie's van is in desperate need of a wash and is practically begging for it.

-Hobie is a very clean person, and his van is usually in good condition, but he has been occupied with other things in the past few days.

-Instead of opting for the drive-through car washes, you both prefer to go to the self-service car wash because he believes the drive-through ones are a bit of a scam.

-He would lean against his van, watching you in your cute shorts and top outfit as you adjust and switch the settings on the hose.

"Shouldn't you be scrubbing?" You ask.

"I'd rather just watch you," he replies mischievously.

-Suddenly, an idea pops into your head—to playfully spray him with the hose.

-In an instant, he becomes soaked, water dripping from his wicks, and his shirt becoming soaked, with water falling from his face.

"Oh, so you want to be cheeky, huh?" he responds.

"No, Hobie, I was just playing," you say, knowing he's enjoys playing rough.

-Little did you know what you were getting yourself into.

-Before you know it, he retaliates by spraying the hose at you, water splashing everywhere, even making its way into your nose.

-From that point on, it becomes a playful water fight between the two of you, acting like big kids on a hot summer day.

-soaking and playing with the water not fully conscious of how much money it’ll be and the fact the vans bearly getting cleaned.

#hobie x you #hobie fluff #hobie x reader #hobie headcanons #hobie brown headcanons #black writers #black fanfic writer #Spotify

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hexonthepeach · 9 months

Text

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 8: security

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [0: prologue] [1: escape, again] [2: lost and found] [3: returned] [4: bound] [5: home] [6: gift] [7: reunion]

wc: 5k

chapter warnings: a teensy bit of masturbation

recommended listening: lowlife princess - bibi (from here on out, really, this album is the main soundtrack)

Long after the water turns from pink to clear, after you've scrubbed your skin until it's raw, until your fingers pucker from overexposure, you sit against the tile wall of the gym shower and sob without tears.

"Stop crying" wasn't an order you had to take literally from Mark but you'd resigned yourself to it for your own sake. Exhaustion had settled in with the understanding that you'd flown one cell for another. Now your jailers were your pack, tenuously bonded by proxy, doomed to reject you as long as you were shunned by their prime Alpha.

As before, alone and unwanted.

You'll just have to make the best of it, you think. Once this is over you'll find a way to leave. No one will miss you.

"Are you alive in there, Princess?" Haechan asks from the locker-lined entrance, peering around the corner tentatively until he sees you. His eyes grow wide at the sight of you huddled on the floor, tail sucked against the drain in the flow.

"I think she's asleep–"

"I'll handle this." Mark says. You can tell by his pace he's annoyed.

Black boots enter your view, the water turning off as a towel is dropped on your head unceremoniously.

"You're clean," Mark says. "C'mon. Get up."

You don't bother to cover yourself, drying your fur first, earning a sharp hiss from the other man as he immediately turns away.

"There's clothes over there." He points blindly in the direction of the lockers. "Hurry up so we can show you your quarters."

"I have my own room?" you ask, spirits lifting slightly.

"As long as you behave, yeah." He glances over his shoulder to check you're getting dressed, the exposed skin between his collar and short-clipped hair an angry shade of red.

"And if I don't?" you ask, slipping on one of your new, loose shirts. It has the chemical smell of the fabricator and industrial soap but at least there's no trace of blood or cerebrospinal fluid.

"Well, uh," Mark says, fidgeting. "Don't. I mean do. Otherwise we'll have to put you in Containment."

You ease into his view, no longer naked. He's recovering from the flash of embarrassment, anxiety spiking as you finally meet his green-tinged eyes. Another Felid–like Yuta he has an amalgam of various species and proximity scents that has you more confused than ever. You lean in to sniff at him, making him jerk back automatically with a hand on his holster.

"Stay back," he says, his boyish face going stony. "I'd rather not smell like you."

You dip your head apologetically but you can't help but feel a wave of satisfaction.

"What kind of Felid are you?"

"That's none of your business," he says, tone offended.

"Tiger, probably, if he ever presented." Haechan's voice grows louder as he finally braves the room. "He's Fourth's kid."

"A prince?" you ask, excitedly.

"Don't call me that." Mark shakes his head.

"He's sensitive about it," Haechan says, collecting the clothes you've discarded and bagging them with a look of amused disgust. "We don't exactly have standing in our clan."

"Leave those, we'll incinerate them later." Mark says impatiently.

"Our clan? You're a cousin, too?"

"Can’t you tell the family resemblance?" Haechan is much less reluctant to come close to you, tossing new slippers on the floor and holding you as you put them on. He smells warm and safe, in contrast to the fresh-cut green wood of Mark's signature.

"It's nice to have family to watch over me," you say, rubbing your cheek against his jacket. "I never got to meet anyone outside of my female cousins."

Haechan goes still, reacting to the obvious way you rest your damp head against his shoulder.

"Come on," Mark says, pulling you away. "We'll give you the tour."

The large collective bathroom is adjacent to a gym facility that's closed down, lights off–all sorts of fascinating scents buried under cleaning solvents and the chlorine of what you assume is a pool. You let them lead you up the next few floors, walkways connecting rows of hermetic doors on either side of the atrium. Even more plant-boxes line the metal and glass railings, vines dripping down illuminated by soft, blue emergency lighting.

"Upper floors are for the seniors, except for Taeil since he's not a fan of heights," Mark says, pointing to the third level. "You know where to find him."

"Medical," you affirm.

"You'll stay in the guest quarters. Here," he says, hand tapping out a code on the touchscreen. The air inside is stale, but clean, the interior lighting fading in to reveal a sparsely decorated pod with a view of the mist-swallowed city through the dark windows. There's a small bathroom and even a tiny kitchen station.

"This used to be the floor for staff to stay overnight. Usually recruits stay here," Haechan explains. "Executive suites are upstairs, we get to pretend to be the help."

"We are the help," Mark says, wryly, checking the hot water dispenser.

"At your service." Haechan flops onto the lower of two wall-bound bunks, grabbing a remote from an inside ledge to activate the projection wall. You catalog his gestures as he swipes through a few environments, eventually pulling up a tranquil forest scene keyed to the late night hour, the soundscape of trees in a light breeze melded with peeper frogs and the distant hoot of an owl.

"This always helps me sleep," he says, sitting up and grinning at you lazily.

"Your stuff is in the closet. Get settled, relax, whatever," Mark says, heading for the door.

"You're not staying?" you ask.

He responds with a dark laugh. "No."

"Please don't leave," you plead, more to Haechan than the other man, but one glance at his partner's face has him up and away from your beckoning.

"Sweet dreams, Princess," he says, sneaking a peck on your forehead as he breezes past. "We'll see you in the morning."

"Please–" you say, but you're cut off by the door hissing shut, the interior indicator light flashing red when it's locked from the other side.

Of course they wouldn't let you roam free. You kick the metal slab in frustration, pacing the small room until your breathing can even out. Claustrophobia isn't a problem for you but the fox is on alert, needing to work out an escape to put her at ease.

You settle on the screen wall, finding the controls for the Betafax channel guide within a few swipes of the ancient interface. Soon the comforting quiet is replaced by the loud, frenetic noise of several channels at once, advertisements flashing between news feeds and celebrity gossip reports.

You leave it on as you explore the NeoTech building intranet, well accustomed to digging through local networks from hacking into non-approved feeds in the Dome. There aren't any AR or VR headsets in the room so you make do with pulling up a console on the wall, occasionally distracted by the Betasoap melo playing above you.

Whoever had upgraded the security settings for these headquarters had neglected to shut off root access from your room. You easily bypass the login to the directory, satisfied when you find the list of numbers you think might be internal IDs and room assignments, active and inactive flags showing who's available.

You take a chance on a random active number, surprised when it goes through.

At first all you get on the video feed is a pale swath of torso, tattoos disappearing into a low slung towel. Then you see the recipient's face as he picks up his agent, surprise blending into barely-disguised contempt.

"Our date that memorable?" Yuta asks. "How did you get on this line?'

"I was bored," you say, shrugging. He isn't your first choice after the incident earlier but at least he hasn't hung up on you.

'And you want me to entertain you?" He laughs, turning off the video feed. "I'm not on shift again until tomorrow."

"I thought it might be nice to just talk," you say. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for saving me earlier."

There's a pause on the other end, the rustle of fabric like he's either getting dressed or lying down.

"I used you, pretty girl. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Should it?" you ask, adjusting in your own screen to lean back, legs crossed beneath you. "I was scared, but only for a little bit."

"You should be more afraid." Yuta sighs. "You'll get eaten alive out here if you don't look out for yourself."

"Can you teach me?" you ask.

“Teach you how to be scared?”

“To look out for myself.”

He laughs again, a little more cruelly. "You can't afford me."

"Maybe we could come to a mutually beneficial agreement?" You tilt your head at where you believe the photoreceptors on the screen are focused, under your own image. "We help each other?"

You trace a hand down your chest, settling on the curves beneath as you think of touching what you saw of his. It would be so nice to feel that warm skin under your palm, muscles moving with each of the breaths you can hear coming out of the speakers, tighter and more frequent.

"What makes you think you have something I want?"

"I could help you land more bounties," you say. "Use me as bait to find ferals."

That seems to catch him by surprise, as if he expected you to say something else.

"You have a bit of a death wish, don't you."

"I thought Nyctos was the best. You wouldn't have taken me out if you were worried you couldn't handle it."

Your flattery only seems to carry so far.

"I've heard omegas get dumb when they're in heat but I think you might be operating on a deficiency."

The insult doesn't phase you. You're well aware of the loosened grip on your self-control and critical thinking skills. You affect a little pout.

"I'm not unintelligent," you say. "I just want to be useful."

"Is it exciting for you?" Yuta asks, carefully. "Knowing you have that effect on us?"

Your ears swivel back. "It's not like I have a choice."

You can hear the smile shaping his words when he responds. "I think you're even better at lying to yourself than you are to the others."

You shake your head, but the gesture is lame as your mind races. "I'm not excited."

"You could have brought every one of us in this building to you with how turned on you were. Covered in another Alpha's brains, and still getting slick. I think you want more."

You flinch a little at the graphic memory from earlier, your animal brain dismissing the details as just another facet of a brutal existence. But Yuta is right in one thing–your desire had only ramped with the taste of violence.

Johnny's claws in your throat had sealed it. Even out of jimseung's throes you're consumed with the thought of a different outcome of that meeting–him taking you in front of them all before letting anyone else have a taste.

Your fingers curl into your thighs, bunching in the thin fabric of your leggings.

"Look at the pure little princess touching herself at the thought of Alphas tearing each other apart for her." He's mocking you but your hands are dangerously close to your core, afraid of how damp you'll find your fresh clothes. It would be so much nicer to not have to wear them at all–

You hone in on the vulgar sound of skin-on-skin and immediately feel a wave of shame, still colored bright by your arousal.

"Turn the camera on," you say.

"I don't think you'll like it," Yuta says, breath catching.

"Try me." You say, leaning closer.

You don't expect him to oblige but he thumbs the screen on, hand raised over his head to afford you a view from above, arm lazily moving out of frame. It's your turn to be breathless, fingers poised over the image of his twitching torso and dark nipples, meeting his hooded gaze through the digital connection.

"You like knowing what you do to us?" he asks, voice thick with something sinister. "You want more?"

Of course you do.

"You're sick," you say.

You hang up the call with a hard slap of a palm through the raised interface to the wall behind it, making it flicker.

You feel hot and gluey and entirely too turned on to be tempered by revulsion, your fox disappointed at being denied the show.

A few minutes later messages begin appearing on the wall, pulsing a soft green. You half expect a vid feed attachment when you open the notification but the screen is blessedly all text–a system message letting you know you've been granted a NeoLink account.

A few installs begin automatically, pushing suggested applications to your virtual console.

There's a music repository as well as a backlog of recorded streams, and–even more intriguing–an arcade offering various games and gambling simulators on the local intranet. You'll have to ask for a VR headset and haptics but already you feel a rush of joy at the increase in access.

Buried in the communications is a personal message from user [nayuta1026]

>>> have fun, don't break anything. added your cut to a bankchip. don't spend it all at once.

>>> be good and i'll show you more ways to entertain yourself tomorrow.

>>> p.s. the kids like to play crashrunner. if you ask nicely Woo should have a spare vr kit

You paw through the new options to find your chip account, eyes going round at the amount of 00s attached to the leading number. Only 10% of the bounty, pocket change by Dome standards, but it's the first money you've earned and yet another gift, now that the bar for judging such things is in the floor.

After a few minutes of deliberation and a change of clothing you respond with a seconds-long clip of yourself blowing a kiss to the camera. It takes a few tries to get right, mimicking the way you’d seen your cousin coquettishly respond on her groomed social media. You lack the same easy manner so you barely smile, letting your natural suspicion bloom through.

<<< i knew i could trust you, you type back before hitting send.

You receive your response, almost instantaneously:

>>> maybe we'll talk through your offer when your brain returns to that empty little head of yours

>>> if you have one, of course

Jungwoo doesn't respond to your coy messages about a VR, unread from all indications, but you manage to get through to Haechan a few hours later. You widen the screen so he takes up most of the wall, revealing details you'd previously skipped over: the constellation of freckles and moles on his sun-touched skin, the dark circles under his eyes.

"What's up, Princess?" He yawns at you, rubbing his face as he exchanges much more advanced wired headgear for a flat pair of AR glasses.

"Can't sleep," you say. It's not a lie but you really have done nothing to attempt it, scrolling through feed after feed of deliverables on the shopping networks. You'd found yourself much more stingy with your windfall, caution written into every fiber after a decade of planning your flight.

“You need me to sing you a lullaby?” he jokes, leaning back in his chair.

“No one’s ever done that for me,” you say.

"Poor baby." There's a hint of genuine sympathy, there, but mostly sarcasm. "Too bad I don't know any. I could send you some music. Maybe an audioread? Something boring?"

"I just don't want to be alone," you say. It's true. You feel adrift in your little room, so high above the world.

"You're not right now," he hums. "Well I need to stay awake until 0600. You want to talk?"

"Yeah," you say, settling down into your scratchy sheets. "Tell me about how you ended up here."

"Aish," he swears under his breath, fiddling with something on his desk. "That's not gonna put you to sleep."

"Please."

"Well. Okay. I'm from the South. Grew up on one of the naval islands. Lesser branch, military kid. You know how that is, right?"

"Mmmhmm," you say. "Like that one melo, Sun on the Sea?"

"Wow, they have melos in the Dome?" he asks.

"There's ways to watch them," you say, feeling pleased with yourself.

"Yeah. Well, not as interesting as that. Or at least not as happy an ending. Both my parents were drafted into the Second army. Taeyong's dad, you know. That was all I really knew growing up, with my siblings. Dad was culled in combat and my mom stayed on–she was a medic. Lost her a month before the Peace."

"I'm sorry," you say, quietly.

"It's fine." He lies, face hollowed out by the light of his screen. "A lot of us are war orphans, you know."

"My dad went MIA when I was very young," you affirm. "I don't even remember what he looked like."

"You don't have a picture?"

You shake your head. "He was nobody, a beta guard who worked in the Palace."

All you can remember of the man are impressions. Every time you looked in the mirror you saw more of him than her, as if he'd given you the gift of freedom from that cursed line in your inception.

"I guess my mother wanted something different. They ran off when she got pregnant with my brother," you explain.

"Talk about a melo. Being a princess isn't like in the stories, is it?" He laughs morosely.

"No," you say. "It's horrible. I never wanted to be anything like that."

"If it's any consolation, you don't seem like one." You realize he's joking when you look up to see his lips quirked in a smile.

"What did you expect?" you ask, kicking the topsheet off and letting your leg dangle over the edge of the bed.

"I've never been good at manners, either." He shrugs. "You're a little crazy, but you're nice."

"I take offense to that," you mutter. "I didn't ask to . . . you know."

That unspoken devil is in the room with you, teeth gleaming as it waits to strike. Your gut twists, remembering why you're here and they're out there. You wish it didn't have to be this way.

“Do you feel sick?" He leans in as if to get a closer look through the screen.

"Yeah." No one had asked you how you were feeling in a while. Even Taeil had treated the question as an afterthought, instead monitoring your vitals directly. "Like I have a mild fever. Uncomfortable. Itchy. Can't tell if I'm hot or if I'm cold."

"No pain, right?"

You hesitate to say yes. He's just a kid, he can't be much older than you. Your fox wants to whine and plead for him to come and soothe you but you feel like it would be a violation of the tenuous trust you've earned from him and the kindness he's shown you in the last few days. Even after the confrontation earlier he'd been back to the person you'd fixated on since your arrival.

You needed someone in your corner who seemed to actually like you. Someone you could trust.

"Can I ask a favor?" you ask.

It takes him a bit to answer, obviously scared of what you'll request.

"Yeah. Sure," he says. "Just not–"

"Can you teach me how to play that game you like? Crash-something?"

There's an explosive sound over the speakers as he laughs in relief.

"Crashrunner? Oh geez. Of course. Do you have a VR?"

"No. Maybe you could just share your feed? Walk me through?"

He seems almost giddy as he dons his headset, sending you an invitation to open another channel. The game screen replaces his face, illegible to you in the many action bars and windows, an in-game chat revealing a constantly scrolling feed of chatter, some translated from other languages in real time.

"Never thought I'd be teaching the future Imperatrix how to play a battle simulator," he says aloud. The fact that his voice remains is a comfort to you as you try to parse the action, watching a third-person perspective of an avatar in a strange costume navigating an alien countryside.

"Just think of me as a friend," you say.

"Okay. Well. Never thought I'd be teaching a girl how to play a battle simulator," he corrects. "First things first–this is an open world massive multiplayer with instances for organized strategy . . . "

You're out within minutes.

You're back in the conservatory, somehow, in the pond–lilypads brushing your cheeks, sludge between your toes. The fabric of your nightshirt clings to you, hotter than you expected. Nothing can survive in this environment at this temperature, surely. You have to find a way to cool it down–to cool yourself down.

Something moves across the edge of your vision, startling you into turning over, feet somehow no longer hitting the bottom but kicking uselessly.

The room is a forest, the lake beneath you deep and dark, as something stalks you from the tree branches intertwined overhead.

"I'm willing," you say aloud. "Just do it."

He slides into the water, curling you into his embrace, whiskers kissing away the beads of sweat on your temple. He’s more cat than anything, fur at every point of contact, tail entangling with your own in the water. You want him, you think–not smooth, unbroken skin but the gamey scent of a carnivore, your desire to be consumed overriding the ancient fear of being subdued with his teeth crushing your spinal column and windpipe.

Your belly is on fire, grasping in the shallows for any contact that isn’t slippery and impossible to hold. You want to consume him, too.

“Just do it,” you repeat.

Arms around you, a face in your neck. You feel the dent of canines and the slow broach of the dermis as he bites in, lapping blood before it can drip into the water. He's gentle and silent, besides the rumbling of thunder somewhere–from the sky, or him, or maybe the water swallowing you when you begin to sink in, already drained and useless.

"You asked me to," he says.

"____."

A pair of bright almond eyes peer at you from the edge of the mattress, tousled bleached hair burnt orange in the morning light. Dog, you think. No–almost fox but not quite. His scent is playful and bright, like a plucked dandelion.

"Jungwoo," you say, recognizing him. "I think something is wrong."

He reaches across the bunk, long and slender arm holding you to the pillow as he checks your temperature with the back of his hand.

"Yep." His smile is hidden, an eyebrow quirked as he scans the rest of you, tangled in the sheets. "You're a goner."

You roll over groggily, head pounding with the movement. "Go away."

"Really?" If you didn't know better you'd think he was truly dismayed. "You sure you don't want help?"

"'M fine," you say, collapsing back into the pillow, tail curling around you.

He tugs it free of the swaddle of sheets, using it to tickle your face until you swat him away.

"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me." He exhales dramatically. "Brought you breakfast, and everything."

You push yourself up, immediately wincing at the ache in your limbs–an embarrassing frailty when you realize what's throbbing the most is between your legs, radiating through your belly and down your thighs. Somehow you'd removed your leggings in your slumber, now nowhere to be found.

Shyness creeps in as you pull a blanket over your lap.

"I thought you were watching me in pairs," you say, looking over his shoulder to find the room empty. In the place of another person is a stack of plastic boxes and bags on a handcart, so tightly packed to fit you think it might be held together by prayer.

He ignores your question, turning his attention to unloading a foil bag that fills the room with a mouthwatering scent. Containers are laid out on the pullout table that serves as a desk, his efforts just as neat and efficient as his easy appearance.

You make your way down, still wrapped in the irritating blanket as a barrier, sweat soaking in.

"You did some shopping last night," he muses, eyes darting between the pile and you. "Nesting?"

Your nose wrinkles in distaste. "No. Certainly not here."

"Where would you like, then?" he asks. "Should I set them up in Johnny's room?"

You freeze, glaring at his long back.

"I don't even know where that is," you say, quickly, "I don't want to know."

"Are you sure? Saw you poking around in the directory last night."

"Your security is dismal," you deflect, cheeks hot.

"Or maybe I let you in." He turns to smile at you without baring his teeth, plush lips curved. "You can thank me for setting you up with a NeoLink, too. Not a bad distraction, right?"

"I would if it didn't mean I'm under surveillance. Were you a Dome censor in your last life?"

"Not exactly," he says, hands suddenly on your shoulders to push you into one of the two chairs, wheeling you to your spread. "Eat, you'll need your strength."

You want to protest but the smell rising from the nearest container has your eyes crossing in unrealized pleasure. You dig into the steamed eggs and the accompanying red rice dish with gusto, coughing at the spice and drinking from a canteen of cold water you find beside it.

"What are you doing?" you ask, once your eyes are no longer streaming tears.

"Helping you prepare," he says, lightly, running a utility knife across another layer of tape. "What do we have here?"

"Don't–" you protest through a full mouth, hand flying up to cover your lips as you swallow.

"Oh don't worry," he says. "Standard protocol to check your purchases before we let them pass through."

You watch him unwrap the item from layers of plastic, your eyes going wide with shock.

"I didn't order that," you say.

"I know," Jungwoo says, hefting the object in his hand like it's a weapon he can use to bludgeon someone to death with. "I did."

You're out of your seat in an instant, ducking into the bathroom and closing the door with a hand wave over the interior screen. You lock it for good measure, as you turn on the sink and then the shower to muffle the horrible noise that comes out of you instead of a scream.

After a few minutes your fur is no longer standing on end, dampened by the steam in the room. You set the temperature lower, dunking yourself in cold fully dressed, finally prompted to remove your shirt and scrub yourself with soap from the wall dispenser when gooseflesh covers your limbs.

Once you're out you feel mildly better, only disturbed by the soft chimes emitting from the responsive mirror as notifications are pushed to it.

You tap the screen to read Jungwoo's messages, hearing his soft voice in the text and shuddering a little at the memory of him standing over you with the thing in his hand.

>>> don't worry little one

>>> just a precaution. you might find it useful

>>> I also got you an agent :-)

>>> and a VR

>>> you should finish your breakfast

>>> go to medical

>>> taeil can give you some pointers

>>> just don't ask him for a demonstration

>>> (you'll want to ring me for that)

>>> i'll keep an eye on you from a safe distance ;-)

You don't bother responding. Instead you go to root access to check the flags on the internal IDs, already memorized in your mind, checking the building map.

You breathe a sigh of relief to find Jungwoo is no longer in your room, not even on this level, it seems–somewhere on the third floor above you and heading away. It could be a trick, you think, but animal instinct and your sharp hearing register nothing outside the sound and scent-proofed door and walls.

You emerge, carefully, hand over the door lock–surprisingly unkeyed–just in case. The room is vacated, your purchases neatly piled on the lower bunk, food long cold.

And there, on your chair–next to a VR headset and an elegant watch-styled personal agent–is the offending device. It’s been tied neatly with a bow around it like it's a luxury good.

Your first instinct is to throw it out of the room, hopefully pitched far enough that it clears the walkway to disappear into the floors below. But that would mean someone else would find it, the embarrassment already making you cringe.

Instead you pick up the offending object and give it a curious sniff. Synthetic, newly fabricated–roped with veins and texture you can only recognize from illustrated references. It feels like it gets warm under your touch, firm and even firmer when you squeeze the thick shaft.

To your ever-growing horror you realize it's equipped with some kind of internal machinery, the thick replica of a rippling scrotum disguising a battery pack and cabling absolutely unnecessary for a standard device.

Of course, you think, thumbing the added thickness molded near its base. Alphas were in higher supply but so was the demand for the experience with them–something most of the population could only imagine without access to their interest.

You can't imagine taking the thing inside your body, much less the knot. Even deflated it seems impossible and painful. But a part of you, still flushed and tantalized by the prospect of your first heat, knows it wants it.

No–it needs it.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you hide the proxy under the pillow of the lower bunk. You change your mind to stick it under the mattress pad, again dissatisfied with the telltale lump. You bury it in your closet, instead, under your emptied rucksack and a pile of shopping bags.

No longer visible, it looms larger in your mind–too much and yet, not enough.

You have to go to Medical.

[previous] [next]

#agtbtb #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 omegaverse #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct fic #nct 127 fic #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines

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poison--ivory · 11 months

Note

hello! i'd like to request a knb kiyoshi teppei x male!reader fic where reader walks in on kiyoshi trying to relieve himself ifykwim. maybe have reader assist teppei on hitting the right spot

Warnings: masturbation, prostate touching

I'm so sorry to you anon I forgot I had this still in drafts

Its been a while since I watched Knb but I'll try my best

No one came into the boy's locker room after practice Teppei knew this. He's been on the team long enough to know no one else bothered to take the role of cleaning the showers. He took it upon himself to scrub the place clean each day after school ended and it became a ritual to him. After class and practice, he would stay behind to scrub down the showers, mop the locker room floor and wipe down the benches of any sweat or grim still clinging onto the metal.

That's how he noticed. Once he finished working he was the only one left in the gym, and how he knew no one would come to check for him after. Maybe that's why he didn't feel anxious about jerking off against your locker. It was your fault he was horny after practice and it was your fault he got hard after you ground your ass on his crotch trying to block him.

He thought about how soft you felt whenever he touched you and how you always smelled like your sisters' shampoo because your parents found it cheaper to just buy one brand. The feeling of your lips on his neck the first time you fucked him, the way you stretched him out, and the sensation of his body heating up from the sudden intrusion of your cock in his bowels.

On instinct, his arm reached behind his back, pressing his chest against the wall to get a better angle. He grunted as he tried to find a comfortable position. His middle finger shoved its way past his entrance curling to find that sweet spot and slowly stretching his hole out for the next finger. Moaning from the feeling of his fingers he cursed at himself for forgetting his dildo at home. Stroking his dick at a steady pace with his right hand

Too lost in his own pleasure the sound of the creaky door couldn't penetrate the blood rushing in his ear, but he did hear your voice bounce off the walls. "So, this is what takes you so long? Didn't know my boyfriend was such a fiend." He shot around catching the huge smirk across your features.

"Y-y/n," Teppei quickly tried to clear his throat but failed pathetically, "I thought you went home already."

You chuckled, "Yea, but I really wanted to walk home with you today. My sisters were going to go out with some friends and you know my parents work late as fuck." With each sentence, you grew closer til he could feel your breath on his face. "I was going to screw you senseless at my house, I thought I made that obvious during practice, but I can work with this." You licked cheek trailing towards his lips and locking him into a heated kiss. He gasps at you swatting his hand away from his privates and yanking his other hand from his hole.

Two of your long fingers entered his rectum and like spiritual guidance, your fingers prodded his prostate. His cry of pleasure was muffled by your tongue intruding into his mouth. You tasted like the daifuku he saw you scarfing down during the break. Another moan escaped his lips as you attacked his neck.

"Were you trying to reach this," You pressed down his prostate again while you stroked his dick. Thrusting your fingers deeper you smiled at that sweet spot, and with every few thrusts you purposely missed it. A desperate whine traveled with the sounds of the squelching noise of his slick anus.

"God, Y/n! Please stop teasing me." He cried.

You smirked, "I'll get you off just let me enjoy this a bit more." A third finger enters his hole stretching the rim of his asshole, a deep grunt emerged from Teppei's chest.

"I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

Again I'm so sorry to you anon. I hope you enjoyed my very late response.

#knb x y/n #knb x reader #knb fanfic #kiyoshi teppei #kiyoshi teppei x reader #x male reader #top reader

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intimidating-fettuccine · 2 years

Note

A scenario or headcanon where someone pranks Jason by giving him spicy food, he eats it and then tries to find out who was the joker to get revenge? Xd

Let’s make this a bit interesting and have dearest Y/N try to prank their lover, hmm?

Jason couldn't help it. Despite the fact that he could handle it if he needed to, Jason just could not stand the taste of spicy foods. It made him nauseous, burned until his eyes were watering and he needed to cry, and in his opinion, the flavors were just horrible, horrible, horrible. It was well known in the mansion to not give Jason any sort of spice.

Although... You just couldn't resist, now, could you? You thought it would be a cute little prank, really, adding some spice to your partner's leftover lunch and waiting until he'd be eating them today to find out his reaction. Of course, he settled down politely and as poised as ever, quietly sighing as he went to take the first few bites, and then - silence. Jason sat there, frozen, sitting with his fork still in his mouth as he processed the flavors dancing upon his tongue. He sat bad, swallowed, cleared his throat, and at the top of his lungs, "Whoever ruined my lunch has ten seconds to either run for their lives or present themselves to me at once!!" Doors slamming resonated through the mansion, leaving you to stumble around, to try and run, but a set of hands found their way to you before you could.

"Hello, Darlin'. Might we have a little chat together? Just the two of us?" Despite the sweet tone coming out of his mouth, the venom in his eyes does little to quell your worries about where this is going. Without thinking, you try and escape again, and a swift and rough smack is placed upon your ass before he hoists you up and onto his shoulder, telling you that you need to repay him for the trouble you've caused. Any wiggling or attempts at escape will be met with more spanks, so I'd suggest just allowing him to escort you. It's quite simple really... While he remakes and eats his lunch, you're to spend your time completely cleaning out and scrubbing his workshop for him. The kick Jason gets out of reclining back and watching you work so hard is far too good, so I'd suggest unless you want a repeat scenario you don't do that again. Oh, and, of course... He will find other, more intimate ways to punish you later once you're both done with work.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #jason the toymaker #jason the toymaker headcanon #jason the toymaker headcanons #jason the toymaker x reader

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fictosensuality · 1 year

Text

Genn Greymane x F! OC

Worgen are really hot.

King Genn Greymane had come dangerously close to losing his life this day. Had Anduin not been there to save him just in the nick of time...

He had not shifted back into the form of a man the entire journey back to Stormwind, finding comfort in the form of a beast. As he and Anduin approached Stormwind keep he lumbered forward on the legs of a wolf, wounded but stubbornly refusing healing from all but one. Crescent Greymane, his young wife. As they entered the keep she bounded towards him, having been eagerly awaiting his return all day. Ignoring the people who tried to approach the two kings to discuss political affairs and matters of war, she ran at him, barefoot, her long skirts billowing behind her and golden curls bouncing. Genn could look at no one but her and he thought in this moment that she looked like an angel, like the holy Light itself personified. She embraced him as much as she could, being considerably smaller than him. The top of her head reached the center of his chest as she pressed herself against him, grabbing fistfuls of his fur in her small hands. Genn lifted her up, cradling her close to his face no matter how much the weight of her strained a wound on his shoulder. He lapped at her face and neck like a dog reunited with its owner, tail wagging eagerly as she giggled and scratched at his chin and behind his ears. Those who wished to speak to him gave up and resigned to try again later, it was obvious all of his attention would be on the maiden he clutched to his chest, at least until tomorrow.

"I missed you so dearly Cres..." Genn said in his deep, rough voice, sniffing at her body and savoring the familiar scent of her

"I thought of you every day and dreamed of you every night. I knew I would not fall, not until I'd held you in my arms again." he squeezed her body tightly, but she did not mind the pressure and rather relished in it.

"I missed you too Genn. And I knew you'd come back to me." Cres said, stroking her hand through the fur of his cheek and he leaned into her touch.

"Now, let's go up to our room, I know you need patching up." she said good-naturedly. Genn gruffed his reply and put Cres over his shoulder, holding her there with one large clawed hand across her ass and making his way to their room.

Cress stitched up his wounds, cleaned them, scrubbed clumps of dried blood from his fur and soothed him with her healing abilities. It was difficult to get him to sit still long enough to be healed however, as he took every opportunity to lick or sniff her or run his large paws all over her body.

"You're too impatient." she chided as she bent down to kiss a wound she had just finished bandaging.

"Cres." his voice was stern and he grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look into his wild yellow eyes. He was panting and almost drooling as he looked down at her. He looked less like her lover, her King and more like a wild animal. A beast from the deepest forests of Azeroth come to claim her.

"I need you." he growled.

Cres frowned and brought her hands up to his face, trying to soothe the fire in him to no avail.

"I've needed you since the day you left, but you're hurt and we should wait. I'm afraid your injuries-"

"Injuries be dammed!" he barked, not letting her finish and shoving his paws under her dress, pushing it upwards enough to expose her pussy and ass. His claws tore at the delicate fabric of the dress and scratched at her soft skin as he kissed her forcefully, his maw clumsy and awkward against her soft lips, all fangs and slobber which ran down her chin as well as his. She opened her mouth to him and he wasted no time shoving his tongue into it, overwhelming her. She delighted in being suffocated by him. He picked her up and threw her down on their bed like a doll, ripping away the shredded remains of her dress. He buried his face between her legs and inhaled deeply, becoming almost drunk on the scent of his lover's arousal. He lapped at her cunt furiously, her clit, her entrance, no part of her was left untouched by his large, wet tongue. As he devoured her he reached down between his own legs to grasp his large, red cock, unsheathed and dripping with need already. He drank in the taste of her, the smell, the sound of her whimpering and mewling until he could stand it no longer. He sat up and grabbed her hips, deftly flipping her over onto her stomach. Cres knew what to do, having been bred by him many times before. She got on her knees and grabbed at the headboard in front of her, gripping it and bracing herself. Genn grabbed her hips, claws digging into her as he shoved his entire length into her in one harsh thrust. He threw back his head and practically howled and Cres cried out in pleasure and pain, legs quivering already.

"G-Gods Genn.." Cres struggled, her voice strained. Genn gave her no time to adjust to his length as he leaned forward, his large body surrounding her like a warm blanket as he thrusted in and out of her as fast as he could. He pulled her into him with every thrust, lifting her off of the bed, using her body as if she were a toy. Cres's moans and cries were lost beneath the animalistic groans and growls Genn let out as he fucked her ruthlessly. He bit into her shoulder, digging his fangs into her hard enough to draw blood, drool spilling out and dripping all over her, growling low in his throat as he tasted her blood. His breath came in hot huffs against her neck and Cres lost her grip on the bed, pleasure making her feel like her body had turned to jelly. Genn released his grip on her with one of his paws and wrapped it around her chest, squeezing her breasts and pulling her to him. Tears ran down Cres' face, saliva from her lips, the noises she made were guttural, visceral. Genn suddenly stopped thrusting and Cres could feel him knotting her, the feeling making her toes curl and making her shiver with euphoria.

"I love you Cres, I love you so much..." Genn cooed, licking her face, lapping up her tears and spit and rubbing her body gently as he laid down on his side, hooking one of her legs over his hip as they remained connected. Cres was panting heavily as she reached behind her to scratch at his chin.

"I love you too Genn..." she said when she caught her breath enough to speak

When Genn had finished, filling her to the point of overflowing he shifted back into a man finally. He laid on his back and ran his fingers through his hair, thoroughly spent. Cres touched the mark on her shoulder and smiled. The scratches, bruises and bite marks that came with loving a worgen were part of the fun.

#wow fic #smut fanfic #genn greymane #worgen #werewolf smut

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cosmicmistake42069 · 2 months

Text

As Ginny Miller once wrote

Am I too old to hide under the bed?

I'm stuck in a storm

But the storm's in my head

All I see is lightning

All I hear is thunder

Just one boom coming one after the other

I once was blind, but now I see

The blindfolds folds have unfolded from me

But try as I might to close my eyes

And shut them tight and go back to black

To not knowing, to trust

Because now that I know I know what I must do for you

What you've made me be

And I'd give anything to wash it away

Scrub and scrub that damn spot out

But you can't wash off a tattoo

Because now, you see, I'm culpable too

I gnash and gnarl and gnaw until I'm raw

My vocal cords vibrating

With vicious and vital truths

That I need to speak

That you need to hear

My tongue undulating

With the undue burden of silence

But the sound chokes back into my throat

A hard swollen lump I swallow down

They say mother knows best

But what if there are things Mother doesn't know? Like if she can braid your hair But still stans Scarlett O'Hara

You always say I am your reflection

But I can't hide behind your smile And from where I'm standing

We're on opposite sides of mirrored glass

Me and you against the world?

But the world is out to get me

In ways you can never know or feel

So how can you know it's real?

I am sick of suffering in silence

Today, I will stomp and scream and shout

Until every word inside of me is out

Just by knowing, by seeing

That was my agreeing

My hands wet, once clean

Dirty with sins I don't mean

Words I didn't say, dragons I didn't slay

I inherit the sin

And I become the monster

That I was born from

#ginny and georgia #painful poetry #poetry

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sosoullight · 1 year

Text

Am i too old to hide under the bed?

I'm stuck in a storm but the storm's in my head.

All i see is lightning

All i see is thunder

Just one boom coming one after the other

I once was blind, but now i see.

The blindfolds folds have unfolded from me.

But try as i might to close my eyes

And shut them tight and go back to black

To not knowing, to trust

Because now that i know you

I know what i must do for you

What you ve made me be

And I'd give anything to wash it away .

Scrub and scrub that damn spot out

But you can't wash off a tattoo.

Because now, you see, I'm culpable too.

I gnash and gnarl and gnaw until I'm raw

My vocal cords vibrating with vicious and vital truths.

That i need to speak

That you need to hear

My tongue undulating with the undue Burden of silence

But the sound chokes back into my throat

A hard swollen lump i swallow down

You say I'm always your reflection

But i can't hide behind your smile

And from where I'm standing

We're on opposite sides of mirrored glass

There's blood on my hands

Me and you against the world? (Guilt)

But the world is out to get me

In ways you can never know or feel

So how can you know it's real?

I am stuck of suffering in silence.

My hands wet, once clean

Dirty with sins i don't mean.

Words i didn't say, dragons i didn't slay

I inherit the sin

And i become the monster that i was born from....

0 notes

yanderegrizzsworld · 2 years

Text

Yandere Silco & Jinx: Blood is Thicker than Water (Team-up/Platonic Scenario)

TW/CW: Blood, murder, implied stalking/strangulation, use of firearms, bruises & auditory hallucinations

A.N: While on the search for some fitting music for another fic, I end up listening to the Arcane soundtrack which led to me writing this fic. Enjoy.

Running the cloth across the wooden counter, you hum silently to yourself, the scent of liquor lingering in the air as faint music plays from its jukebox. Retrieving the fabric, you crack your knuckles & resume with another sweep as the tune blurs to white noise. "Another tired day?" Thieram nervously chuckled while he simultaneously sluice a mug as he turned to face your back. "Yeah, especially from her..." You face your bar companion, walking over next to him & dipping your hand in the detergent water to rinse the cloth. Feeling the tepid, clear liquid brought you some level of tranquility, especially from the dour streets of Zaun.

"You seem extra exhausted, do you maybe want something to drink? It might help" Thieram rests a hand on your shoulder, eyes meeting he offers a frail smile as he grabs another mug & resumes to cleaning more glass cups. "I'd like a drink, how about it, yeah?" The addition of the playful voice has you tense up, out of the corner of your eye, you notice sky blue hair styled in braids that you know far too well. "J-Jinx! What do you want now? I‐ Um..." Thieram goes mute, staring at the floor before snatching your cloth & scrubs away at the bar counter.

"Well? I'm waiting for my drink. I want my usual, please and thank you!" Jinx giggles as she plays with the ends of her braids like a bored child. You sigh before pouring some grog in a glass cup & adding a straw. Treading her way, you slide the mug at her slowly. As you're about to turn & walk away, a cool chill runs up your arm as you feel whetted nails poke harshly at your skin. "Hey bud, how come you don't hang out with me anymore?" She pouts at your direction while simultaneously playing with the straw, you subtly look at Thieram who is avoiding looking at your direction.

"Do you not like playing with me anymore?" While still having that sad look on her face, there's a faint hint of vemon on her tongue. You swallow hard, you move your hands under the counter to hide their trembling. "I'm... not tired of playing with you. It's just that- You know, working at the Last Drop & having to deal with countless customers and the streets here aren't forgiving so-" Each word fell out your mouth with increasing speed & you felt like you were about run out of breath. You seize a random mug from under the counter in an endeavor to calm your nerves. "hm, why don't you just quit? I'm sure Chuck can handle things by himself, yeah?" She clasps her hands as she takes a few gulps from her drink, sighing & snickering as she parts from the straw.

"H-Hey! It's Thieram, now. Call me Thieram" His words fall on deaf ears as she lifts the straw up from the cup with her mouth & grasps it between her pointer & middle finger, "Chill out Chuck, no harm down" Jinx swirls around, abruptly standing up & making her way over the counter. You struggle against Jinx as she tugs at your arm roughly. "Jinx! I can't just leave, I have to finish up my shift. I can't afford to lose this job!" Her tugging halts, eyes just staring at you but she seems to be lost in her thoughts. You cautiously removed her grasp on you & back away at a turtle's pace, fearing any sudden motions will cause an episode from the lapis haired girl.

Jinx mumbles something incoherent as she hoists her head to stare at the ceiling. After a few seconds of torturous silence, Jinx snatches the cup & drinks the liquor in one gulp. "Thanks for the drink! I appreciate it. I'll see you soon!" She boops your nose as she exits the vacant bar. Your stare remains at the doors as if waiting for her to pop up again to reveal she never left. "You...still need to help close things up..." Thieram rubs the back of his neck avoiding to make eye contact like getting caught telling a lie. You sough, inspecting the counter, "At least she didn't leave a bomb" You hear Thieram sigh in relief just as you snatch a couple mugs & begin to rinse them, allowing the faint tune to ease your mind.

♡♡♡

Each step felt hefty, a cough rising up your throat & escaping you mouth from the amount of smoke from the cigarettes surrounding you. You grip onto the timber handrails, gliding your hand as you tread up towards the second floor. The wallpaper fading off revealing the decayed wall with some patches of coal black. The second floor, while seeming in much better shape than the space below, still had fragments of chipped wallpaper & the smell of rot idled, each step provoked a creak from below with dents visible on the ground.

Standing in front of an entrance, you seize the handle of the door taking a deep breath. Opening the door laggardly, glancing around the room before quietly stepping inside. The scent of smoke, while to a less degree, dawdle in the space nearly provoking another cough if you didn't clasp a hand over lower face. The room was antiseptic, aside from some specks of dust & cobweb in the corners, it had an off sense of comfort from the sullied exterior.

You glance over at the desk ahead with the back of the chair facing you. A tiny tint of light flashes by a small mirror disc accompanied by a low hum. Crimson red can be seen clearly on the mirror glancing at you, "Ah, it's you" A low chuckle emits from the Eye of Zaun, turning to face you, you stand there keeping your arms to your side & peer at the head of the undercity like a deer in headlights. "I suppose everything went well in the Last Drop?" Silco lights a cigar awaiting a response.

You eye around the room debating if you should take a step forward or not. "You don't need to stand so far, you can walk closer if you choose to" Silco hoists his head to stare at the ceiling as clouds of smoke rise before it fades away, you hesitantly inch your way closer to Silco, "Can I...take a seat?" you grasp the chair & lightly pull it back, his gaze meeting yours for a few seconds. "Of course, take a seat. You seem quite tired" He huffs a quiet snicker as you perch yourself down on the seat, "Yeah, lots of customers today and...an unexpected last one that made my shift go longer"

Silco places the cigar into the ashtray before leaning back on his chair, "I see, but you managed. That's much more than I can say about the lost souls on our streets, yes?" Talking with Silco, while something you did quite regularly by either Jinx dragging you her lair to hang out or Silco himself calling you over to discuss, still had you tense fearing that if you don't hold it together you'll never see the light of day again.

"Is something on your mind?" Silco lifts himself of his chair & walks toward you, you subconsciously begin to play with the edges of your clothes, his gaze feeling intense on you. "Is someone bothering you?" Your chair is abruptly turned around & before you know it, you're staring at Silco with his nose scrunched as his red & blue eyes seem to have some fire behind them. "Give me a name and I'll take care of the rest" The feeling of his cold hand land on your arm causes you to jolt, the coolness of his palm feeling like being electrocuted. You've heard of the Eye of Zaun having a cold touch but never realized how chilly it was.

"No! No, nothing's bothering me" You brush your fingers against your arm, feeling the gelid cool of his touch fade. "I actually came here to tell you something that I think you'd be interested in hearing" You reach a hand out slightly but leave it hanging not knowing what to do with it before lowering it back on your lap. "I'm a busy man, but I can spare some time for you" Silco let's out chuckle before returning to his seat & picking up his cigar once more. "You have my fullest attention, my friend"

"Thank you. When I was done with my shift at the Last Drop & was in the Lanes, I noticed something soaring through the sky. It had a green tint and I know I probably shouldn't have but..." you avoid eyeing the man in front of you, already feeling his eyes narrow at you, he raises a brow as he smokes. "Go on" His voice stern, he rests his arms on his desk , returning the cigar in the ashtray. "I followed it to where it went, out of curiosity. I know it was dumb and I could've gotten hurt but I saw that it was a firelight! And it said something about going to one of your factories and when i heard that i thought it'd be smart to tell you" You reluctantly look at Silco, awaiting him to yell or be infuriated by your careless actions, saying how you could've been seen.

Silco remains silent, leaning his head back, seemingly pondering on what you said. "So I have a trail of those pests, hm. I least I'll be preparing now, thank you, my friend. But please do be careful" He looks at you, giving you a faint smile, "Of course, but also, one more thing" You stand up from the seat, hands resting on the head of the chair as your fingers faintly drum on the chair, "I heard them say someone about getting them for the plan but they never said a name. I'm guessing they're going to try and capture one of your workers?" "Probably, but we won't know until it happens. But I'll have preparations ready so dont worry" You hum in approval, the distant sound of chatter ring in your ears. "I request something from you, up in Piltover. I hope it's not much to ask"

♡♡♡

The streets of Piltover were the complete antithesis of those of the Lanes or Zaun. The sun reflecting on the marble ground made the routes appear to glow, buildings standing with pride without a tint of soil as those around you chattered away without a care in the world. Walking up to a local academy, you sigh in relief seeing as no one was out in the halls, speculating all the students were attending their classes now. Strolling through the corridors, the feeling of eyes on you causes you to slouch a bit like a weigh on your shoulders as your steps slowed down, much to your dismay.

The murky hail of footsteps echoed in the corridor, you turn to look behind you but are met with nil, you resume pace until your ears capture giggles. You freeze up as the footsteps get closer, "Hey, I did say I'd see you again, didn't I?" By the tone of her sportful voice, you froze up unable to move like a corpse. "Nice outfit! Really makes you look like you're from Piltover" You began to dash down the halls, panic consuming your train of thought. "Huh? Hey! Where are you going?!" Jinx lays her head on her hands as she crouches down, on any other day yo would've tried to comfort her, but her seemingly following you here caused you to act on your fight or flight response as you kept running through the halls. "They're getting away!... You always scare away those close to you..." Jinx groans, hitting her head with her palms in a pathetic attempt to silence their voices.

"Shut up! I'm not scaring them away!" Jinx glances at you running off, lifting herself from her crouching position, "They just want to play...That's it! They just want to play with me!" Jinx twirls the end of her braids around her finger & without wasting another second, she begins to give chase, her cackling echoing through the corridor giving more reason to continue running, disregarding how tired you're getting. Turning a corner, you quickly hide within a classroom which was thankfully vacant. You press your face against the door as the sounds of rapid footsteps begin to disappear before all you can hear is silence.

You cautiously open the door, eyes widening in realization that if students were to leave their classes at this moment, Jinx without a doubt would decorate the area with her bombs. You hastily make your way through through the halls, listening in for any noise, you enter a random room to discover it to be a cafeteria. Tables neatly aligned with the other with enough room to move around in, you glide your hand on the smooth texture. "Excuse me, do you need any help?" You whip your head to the feminine voice, a girl with golden hair keeps a distance from you as her friend stands behind her with judging eyes. "Oh! um, no I don't. I just- Uh..." As you ponder on what to say, all three of you pick up on the sound of clinking as a small toy monkey lands between you & the girls. Recognizing the design anywhere, your gasp gets got in your throat as you harshly tremble, the girls seem baffled by the thing, just as the girl who called you was about to bent down to retrieve it, you shriek abruptly. "Don't touch it!"

Blue smoke invades the space & clouds your vision as you hide under one of the many tables. You can make out a figure opposite of the girls who were busy coughing up a storm to notice the figure until it spoke. "You aren't Y/N...hm, where are they?" The blue haired girl lifts a finger against her cheek just as one of the girls glance at Jinx as the smoke began to evaporate. "Who are you?!" The blonde girl shrieks as her friend bumps against the edge of a table, briefly groaning. "Did you throw that thing that exploded?!" Jinx perks up at the mention if her invention, her eyes brightening up, "It was cool right!? I'm quite proud of it. I'm sure I heard them here though, I'd love to hear what they would have to sat of it!"

Jinx clasps her hands as she bounces off the heels of her feet, she widens her eyes for a second before shaking her head with a scowl. "They wouldn't say something so terrible! They love my inventions!" Jinx waves her hand around as if shooing someone away. "Are you...?" The blonde ponders on the lapis haired girl in front of her, you hoist your hand up to your mouth in fear of Jinx hearing your breathing. You consider how to exit the space without them noticing you, Jinx snickers while swirling around, the blonde reaches behind her at her friend & snatching something from her. "What are you doing?!" The girl hangs onto the table as to not buckle, the blonde raises a pistol at Jinx, trying not to tremble in fright.

Jinx raises a brow before huffing at her, "I don't have time for a chitchat. I have a game to play with a friend here, now if you'll excuse me-" A shot is fired but misses, Jinx wheezes in amusement raising one hand up while the other reaches behind her. "If you wanted to play, you could've just asked... Shush Mylo, I'm sure they won't mind a little pause in our game" The girl fires again in panic, hitting the floor between Jinx's feet, Jinx lifts her arm to reveal her own firearm which she fires, hitting the other girl's leg.

The girl wails in agony as she collapses onto the floor gripping her leg tightly as she feels her warm blood seep through her fingers as tears begin to stream down her face. Another shot is heard which lightly grazes Jinx's arm, a hot sensation traveled through the braided girl's body as she traces her finger where the heat was, chuckling in merriment. "And here I was thinking you didn't even know how to hold a gun properly!" Jinx fired another shot, hitting the blonde's shoulder causing her to take a few steps back sucking in air through clenched teeth. You slowly crawl out of the table by the opposite side & make your way towards the door as quiet as a mouse.

"I won't let you hurt anyone here you psycho!" The blonde briefly glances at her friend, the girl is crying in pain as she drags herself away at a snail's pace. "You'll pay for hurting her!" The blonde lifts the gun, disregarding the seethes in pain as she fires two more shots. Jinx evades the bullets with ease, yawning in boredom as she twirls her gun around her finger, "Jeez, give me a real challenge here!" The blonde girl struggles to keep her head lifted as the blood loss from her shoulder seep down, forming a small puddle by her. "You've already shot five times, and with that pistol you have only one shot left" Jinx teases with mockery evident in her tone.

The girl feebly aims as Jinx cackles, raising her gun to the girl's friend with her finger ready on the trigger. You're right at the door, staring at the face-off, frozen in place with horror in your eyes fearing the two girl's fate. The girl fires the last bullet as she stumbles back gripping her shoulder & glancing at her friend. Jinx dodges the projectile with it almost hitting her side causing Jinx to silently wince, "Hit her side and you'll win..." She pulls the trigger on her gun with a deranged look on her features. The blonde shrieks in anguish holding her side as she feels her warm blood seeps, another shot is heard accompanied by the girl's friend crying loudly, too busy holding her leg to halt the blood from the other leg. Tears falls down both girl's cheeks as Jinx walks closer to both of them with a vast smile, you quietly exit the room, stumbling your way through the corridor attempting to run off from Jinx.

You stop your running, holding onto the cool wall as to not lose balance, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching but you're too tired at that point to move, waiting for Jinx to pick you up & drag you off. "Hey, are you okay? What's the matter?" A young woman strolls towards you, resting a hand on your cheek. The coolness of her touch feels electrifying, you subconsciously lean into her touch as you breath harshly. "Cafeteria- Two girls...gunshots" You struggle to muse the words above a whisper, the young woman's eyes lock on yours by your words. "Two students? Gunshots?! You stay here, I'll get enforcers!" Before you can respond, the woman runs off & out of your vision, you sigh in annoyance rubbing the bridge of your nose. "I need to get out of here before the enforcers get here" You contemplate getting Jinx but images of Jinx & her little twisted game of russian roulette flash in your skull, making you begin to walk off, hopeful not to get caught in the process.

♡♡♡

Jinx groans as she stretches from hours of being crouched, the lair hued with blues & lavender purples with specks of pink as fragments of creations scattered throughout the floor where, one wrong step & you better pray you end up on the floor of the rotors, music blaring through the record player sending tiny vibrations on the iron ground . Fleeting footsteps echoed as a particular tall man appears in Jinx's burrow as he looks daggers at the blue haired scientist. "Jinx" The girl doesn't acknowledge the presence too busy tinkering away, "Jinx" Still not loud enough, the man turns to the origin of the music & slams his fist on the player, provoking it to screech before silence fills their ears.

Jinx whips her head baffled at what disturbed her tune, "Oh hi Silco! Want something?" Jinx shifts to stand up, lightly stretching as Silco remains mute with a grimace. "Do you mind explaining what on earth you did today?" Silco crosses his arms with a finger tapping hurriedly on his upper arm, Jinx tilts her head with a raised brow, "Mind elaborating? I do plenty of stuff everyday" "A little bird told me that a gunfight occurred at an academy up in Piltover" Silco walks up to Jinx's desk, eyeing the handmade bombs with crayon drawing added, "They found a quite peculiar bomb with a distinct design on it" Silco crashes his palms against the timber table, the handmade items momentarily trembling from the force.

"Two random pupils gunned down, nearly dying of blood loss. What were you doing over there?!" Jinx rocks on her heel bones glancing at her father seemingly pondering on his words. "Well, I was just walking by Piltover and I saw Y/N enter the building and thought, hey, I haven't hung out with them in a long time so I decided to go in! And we finally got to play, but it was short lived though, damn kids ruining my fun" Jinx switches from hyper to somber like a flip of switch, playing with her braid with an exaggerated sigh emitting from her. "Do you have any idea how much damage you've done?! I'm never going to hear the end from Marcus" Silco turns to face Jinx, being met with her fiddling around with a screwdriver with a smile.

"Oh relax, you're the Eye of Zaun, you can handle anything!" Jinx prances around Silco as her titters fill the space around them. Silco seizes his daughter's wrist, hindering her motions, "That doesn't mean that you can get away with anything without consequence" The Eye of Zaun liberates Jinx's wrist as he steps away from her, the blue hues blurring on Silco's crimson collar giving off a tint of deep purple.

"Well, if maybe they didn't have so much work at the Last Drop, I would've have been so bored" Jinx sulks momentarily before a sparkle flashes in her eyes, "Maybe they should work with you personally on a desk job! Or have them be my partner on missions!" Jinx cheers with a large grin like a child getting a new toy. Silco sighs placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose with his other hand on his hips, "If I sent them to work with me from a desk that'll be more work for them to do and if I sent them with you, who knows what dangers you might bring to them. We don't want them dead now, do we?" Silco rests his palms on her shoulders, Jinx eyes the floor, contrition on her face as she lightly kicks her leg against the ground.

"Can you at least give them less shifts?" Jinx wraps her arms around Silco's torso as he remains silent. "I miss them..." Silco wrapped his arms bit by bit, contemplating his daughter's request. "I'll think about it, Jinx"

♡♡♡

The office door swings open, nearly crashing into the wall as Marcus enters the space in with heavy steps. The chair's back faces the Sheriff as a cloud of smoke is briefly visible before evaporating. "Weren't you ever taught to knock before you enter?" The chair swirls so that Silco now faces Marcus, the sheriff snatches the seat in front the desk & sits down, putting his headgear on the edge of the table. "Two girls at an academy were found bleeding profusely on the cafeteria floor with shot wounds" Two other enforcers stood beside the sheriff with some distance between him & the Eye of Zaun.

Silco hums in acknowledgement, laying his cigar in the ashtray & leaning back in his chair. "I'm aware of what has occurred, but don't worry, I'm having that situation sorted out" Marcus grips the the edge of the table, eyes narrowing, "Well, some of my men found this at the scene, and I'm sure you might recognize it" Marcus sets down a fragment of a grenade, some helix drawings of pink & blue scribbled on it. Silco remains quiet, gazing at it before lifting his head slightly to eye Marcus. "Like I said, I'm sorting it out as we speak, Marcus" "Another thing, a young woman claimed to have seen someone supposedly limping on the wall of a corridor, she says that they said gunshots, the girls and the cafeteria but was overall vague"

Marcus gently leans back as Silco raises a hand to his head, the other hand tapping on the desk quietly in rythm. "I see, do we know who this person exactly is?" Silco eyes the sheriff quickly, "No, the person dissapeared before enforcers arrived" Silco retreats his cigar just as he grabs a lighter, "Silco, the people of Piltover need to feel safe" "And do you want me to hand a random soul? Hooked to my shimmer? Barely able to make it pass a day in the Lanes or undercity?" Marcus sighs holding his head in his palms. "Those girls could have died, they might be too scared to attend classes" "Then tell them and all of Piltover that you found the threat and... made sure they'd never hurt anyone ever again, yes?"

Marcus promptly stands up, hands clenching on the desk, knuckles turning white. "I take care of the threat and you make sure the people feel secure, that is the deal" Silco leans forward, elbows resting on the table, the sheriff silently groans & turns around. "Fine, you better keep whoever almost murdered the girls on a leash, got it?" Marcus grabs his headgear as he begins to walk towards the entry, both enforcers trailing behind. "Of course" Silco eyes a drawer, grazing his cool fingers on the handle where his shimmer laid, the Eye of Zaun stares at Marcus briefly before eyeing the ceiling, Jinx's jottings doodled on full display, "Anything to shield those close"

♡♡♡

You don't know what happened. One moment you're walking along the streets of the Lanes & next thing you knew, you were running like hell. Bangs echoed throughout the streets, roaring rings in your ears as you dash around every corner in an attempt to hide from your chaser like a prey running it's predator. The echo of a shot being fired is heard before you collapse on the callous ground, a revolting hotness coursing through your leg. You groan in agony feeling your warm blood form a puddle beneath you, "Finally..." You hear the roaring quiet down & for a second, you presume that they left.

You're all of a sudden grabbed & lifted from the soiled ground & hoisted on someone's shoulder. Panicking, you start kick your chaser but your actions prove futile. "Quit it, unless you want to end up with a broken leg" A deep voice echoes through the avenue, you hear thundering as a tint of green is seen within your vision, "Shit, c'mon work with me..." He sough in chagrin, looking to the side at where the bridge is. "It's close enough, now don't make a noise, unless you want to deal with enforcers" You hang your head low as if in defeat as the man tramps his way towards the bridge.

Each of his steps rang on the bridge as the moonlight made the waters below glow with much beauty. The man holding you on his shoulder strolls by the edge as to not get caught by any of the enforcers. You feel this odd weight on your back but assume it to just be your captor, feeling too tired to fight back. You attempt to hoist your head to gaze at the dark sky, clear with visible beaming stars but out of the corner of your vision, you notice something peculiar, something blue. It vanishes by the time you blink, speculating that you're visualizing things that aren't there.

As you both reach the middle of the bridge, he looks over the concrete rails just as shots echo through the night. You're thrown to the ground feeling the small pebbles against your palms, the man quickly shrieks pressing his gloved hand to his side & retreating it to be met with blood coating his fingertips. Another shot & he turns to face the cause of the shots, blood flowing down his cheek like water in a river. Cackling rings around you two as the occasion hue of blue invades & fades from your vision. "Dammit! I don't have time for this" He motions to take hold of you but a bullet flies between you two, ceasing his movements. Ticking repeats that speeds up violently has you tense, a sudden explosion of smoke engulfs you two.

A dark figure walks up behind you as what seemed to be their hair, that appeared braided, bounced with every step. Before he could open his mouth, the figures dashes in front of him & smacks him with an uppercut with what you think is a heavy gun. "Hey! Are you alright?" the feminine voice rushes to your side cupping your cheeks as her pink eyes show concern within her irises. "Did he hurt you?" "Jinx..." You both hear the man groan as he begins to stand up, Jinx is quick to reveal her handmade pistol & fire at his leg, causing him to collide with the ground once more. "Shut it! I'm trying to protect them!" Jinx waves her hand around the air before letting it rest on the top of her head. The man jabs Jinx to the side as he roughly seizes you once more trying not to buckle from his leg wound, "Guys! I need some help up here!"

Deranged pink eyes stare with rage, Jinx stiffly lifts herself off the floor, "Damn Firelights...Always buzzing around where they shouldn't...!" Three firelights flew above you three momentarily before one, with a what seemed to be a mask in the form of a hummingbird, descend towards the man. "What happened? You got them, let's go" "We can't, not with her ass here" The hummingbird mask draws out a hatchet, the silver shining faintly from the moonlight, "I'll deal with her" The hummingbird mask woman wings towards the blue haired scientist as the man begins to move forward with you held tightly against his shoulder.

"Don't take them away!" Jinx evades the hummingbird's strikes, with aimed precision, Jinx shoots her board & she collapses to the ground with a groan. Jinx shoot the other direction, wail of anguish filling her ears. She walks up to the fallen hummingbird & directs her firearm against the firelights head, "I won't let any of you take them away from me" Jinx glances at her machine gun briefly at the edge of the sidewalk of the bridge, away from sight just as another firelight with an owl mask strives to withdraw Jinx's weapon. Jinx steps away & begins to fire away at those above. You stiffly get back on your feet & cling onto the indurate railings, the stone rubbing roughly against your palm.

In the distance, a few more figures stroll toward the brawl but are barely visible from your head banging harshly against your skull, holding your head in one hand as if suffering from a migraine. The figure in the middle raises its arm as a amethyst gleam emits from the figure on the right. The remaining firelight descends down to also seize Jinx's weapon but is pierced by a metallic arm hued in a purple glow. "Sevika!? How did you-" "You can't go a day without causing trouble, can you?" Sevika pins the remaining firelight by its neck, pressing her robotic arm against their windpipe as they claw at her arm to no avail. Jinx dashes to her machine gun just as the hummingbird woman gets on her board & flies above the two girls.

Jinx rapidly fires at the firelight with an unhinged look in her eyes as the firlight dodges her bullets. You tumble forward seeking not to get caught in the riot, the man seizes your arm abruptly tugging you back violently. You grunt in anguish as you struggle against his grip, the man is shunted against the concrete railings that would surely leave a bruise. A tall figure with purple specks littered throughout its face & neck turns to you & beckons you to ramble towards the figure ahead, gazing at the riot from a secure distance.

You pace towards the lanky figure with uneven steps, your breathing heavy as you hang your head low as to not get hit by Jinx's bullets. You don't look behind you fearing of witnessing the fate of the man who promptly held you hostage as you get closer to the remaining figure. It stood high with its arms behind its back, glancing with multicolored eyes that anyone from the undercity could recognize. Tumbling to the ground, you whip you head to see what was occurring. Flecks of blood painted the stone ground, Sevika was fighting with the firelight with the owl mask, blood running down her nose as she clawed at their face with her shimmered robot arm, leaving fresh marks & cracks on the mask. Jinx, with her machine gun, lands a blow on the board which then causes the firelight to plunge on the bridge.

The hummingbird firelight wouldn't go down without a fight though, they took out a pistol before firing it in Jinx's direction, the shot echoing as Jinx snickers, "You should learn how to aim better" She cackles as she steps near the fallen firelight. Disregarding her larger weapon for a smaller firearm, Jinx directs it on the firelight's head & before they could react, the trigger is pulled as the ringing of the shot fills Jinx's ears, blood splattered across her face with a wicked smile. You groan arching onward as the figure ahead steps forward & kneels in front of you, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you sooner" Silco rests a hand on your shoulder, glancing up to see Jinx walk up to the two of you, Jinx halts in her movements, eyeing you clutch your side as crimson red seeps through your clothes. "Are they alright?!" Jinx rushes to your side, trying to get you to remove you hand from the red spot on your outfit.

As she manages to seize both your hands, Silco gently touches your side, provoking you to wince as blood lightly tinted his fingertips. "It's bleeding slowly, we'll need to bandage them up" Jinx delivering picks you up, guilt on her face as she quietly shakes her head trying to ignore the voices in her head.

♡♡♡

Jinx paces back & forth rambling to herself as Silco leans back eyeing his daughter in distress. "What if shot was too deep? What if they're dying right now? What if-" Silco hoists himself up & treads towards his panicky daughter, resting on hand on her shoulder while the other caresses her cheek soothingly. Jinx grabs onto Silco's wrists, breathing erratically, "It'll be okay, Jinx" Jinx leans her head onto his chest, hugging him as Silco lifts a hand & gently pets her head. Books, papers & chemicals crowded together made the space within feel claustrophobic, essence of chemicals & shimmer lingered in the air as hues of green & purple were practically the only source of light within the area.

A dark cloaked figure appears from the darkness of the room, steps slow yet stern. Silco softly removes Jinx from his chest, purple tints with burn scars littered on the figure's upper face as it covers the lower part with a torn scarf. "How are they?" The figure takes sluggish steps around the two, gliding his hand by the substances before hindering his movements by a giant cylinder with a lizard like creature floating in the liquids, tubes covering its mouth & scattered throughout its body as if to keep it alive. "They'll live, just need to rest" Silco glances at the man before eyeing the dying creature, "The mutation must live on" The man lays his hand on the cylinder, the lukewarm liquid with his chilly touch feeling almost electric. "You understand, don't you?"

Silco waves him away, guiding Jinx with him in the space you're resting in. Your side clothed in bandages, blood sluggishly seeping & painting the bind cherry red. A noticeable contusion on your arm, presumably when the firelight grabbed your arm when attempting to walk away, Silco touches the blemish as tenderly as possible, red with tints of blue & purple color your arm as you slightly flinch by his cold touch.

Jinx leans against the stone wall, eyes examining the room as well as subtly kicking her foot quietly. "Can I take them with me?...With us?" Silco turns his head raising a brow, Jinx pushes herself off the wall & strolls towards the both of you, hair bouncing with each step. "Jinx, we can't just-" "I'll have them in my lair, my room. Practically no one besides you or them knows where it is, don't you think that would be safer? A place no one else knows about beside us?" Silco hums processing her question & statement.

He sees where Jinx is coming from, a place where you can easily rest without distraction & he can visit without the fear of you being hurt. But then that leaves Jinx, unstable mental health & seemingly hears voices in her head of those long gone from when she was Powder. Silco stands up, dusting off his shoulder, "Do you promise not to let harm come to them? Not even by your episodes?" Jinx seizes your hand, thumb rubbing counter clockwise on the back of your hand. "Yes, I promise! I'll make sure they get all the rest they need...Oh! It'll be like playing nurse, how fun!"

Silco eyes those who still have some level of strength in them as two begin a brawl for a tiny tube of shimmer, looking back where he lost saw his daughter Silco then eyes the statue of his old friend who he at a point in his life called a brother. "I'll do anything to liberate Zaun from Piltover" Silco faintly chuckles as he paces towards his daughter's direction, vowing to protect both you & Jinx from the clutches of the city above.

In a heartbeat, Jinx picks you up letting your head rest on her chest & commences her journey to her home. Silco walking out the room, he glances at the man who eyes him in question, the Eye of Zaun merely shrugs as he exits the area & returns on the streets of the undercity. Souls cowering on the streets, fatigued & thirsty as children rummage through trash for something to entertain themselves with. Silco gazes at a pair of blue braids turning the corner before disappearing from his sight.

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