#and they’d be fucking stupid if they DID kill him off this early

[please-help-this-little-lesbian]

Guys I know we’re all worried about season 2 but I genuinely do not think they’re going to incorporate part 2 this early. They have Pedro fucking Pascal as their male lead, they’re gonna milk the shit out of him. Joel is safe for at the very least another season.

#and they’d be fucking stupid if they DID kill him off this early #tlou #the last of us #hbo the last of us #tlou spoilers #tlou season 2

[bigassmoonchild]

this is just pure self induglence

can i request ghost ripping into each member of the team over something stupid they did and when he finally get to us he cant yell and tell us not to do it again really sweetly and leaves the room and soap asks us how we get him to be nice and it leads to them finding out

A. we outrank him

B. hes our hubby and cant be mean to us even if he tried

(i love it when soap just never gets told anything about simons personal life. it’s like another way soap and ghost just go at each other to me 💀)

🫶🫶 (love my anons)

‘you need to start thinking more, sergeant!’ ghost nearly growled into soaps face. ‘if you’d think, maybe we wouldn’t ‘ave had to evacuate like we did, and maybe there wouldn’t have been three dead!’ and all soap could do was look away.

price had disappeared. he well outranked the lieutenant and didn’t need to stay behind for the talking to everyone was getting. you, though, you stayed because you wanted to.

he moved on to gaz, staring down at the younger man. ‘and you’re supposed to be with him,’ he pointed at soap, ‘at all times. did you forget? is that why he went off and fucked up?’ he snarled.

soap opened his mouth, ready to defend gaz before ghost cut him off. ‘don’t you even think about it, sergeant. i want you both on the field tomorrow. 0500,’ and he turned to you.

soap and gaz watched as the lieutenant just looked at you, your eyes glaring through his own. it was like you were talking to each other without speaking, and ghost shook his head. ‘don’t do that again,’ he huffed out and marched away.

gaz visibly relaxed, allowing his shoulders to fall from their stiff position. rubbing at his neck, he looked between you and soap.

‘i’m just gonna go on and get some food. might knock out early so ghost doesn’t fuck me up too bad tomorrow,’ and he walked off.

falling into step beside you, soap and yourself just walked for a bit. soap needed to blow of some steam. ‘how do you do it?’ he turned to you, face fallen and almost hurt. ‘i don’t get it, he never yells at you, he doesn’t do anything to you,’ he shook his head.

the mission hadn’t gone as poorly as ghost had thought. there were some missing pieces of intel, a few soldiers lost in the ranks here or there. maybe an outdated blueprint.

where you’d been watching, ready to help snipe should anything go wrong, things seemed to be going okay. soap hadn’t fucked anything up too bad, he just hadn’t seen someone walking by before they’d seen him.

he was almost shot, barely getting away. gaz had barely gotten away with the needed intel, but had to lose the person you’d been after. that was going to ruin a lot of things in the long run.

‘you didn’t do as poorly as ghost thinks,’ you said to soap, ignoring his initial comment. ‘he just gets all up in his head, believes that anything that goes wrong is nobody’s fault but ours,’ you told him.

you weren’t going to explain how he believed it was his own fault. when soldiers he was leading fell, he took it as though he was the one killing them.

soap shook his head. ‘how do you do it? he barely even tells you when you screw things up,’ you gave a little laugh.

‘oh he tells me, soap,’ you responded. ‘you just don’t ever see it, because he’s private. sure, i may outrank him, but-‘

‘you outrank ghost?’ he stared at you, brows furrowed. you nodded.

‘i just don’t ever wear my stripes or pins,’ you told him. ‘colonel, but i’ve stepped aside to help you guys out. god awful amount of paperwork, though,’ you shrugged and looked away.

soap shook his head. ‘he yells at price sometimes, but he never even gets angry at you. there’s something else,’ you gave soap a little smile.

finally looking back at the scot, you fully grinned at him. ‘it’s cause i’m his wife, and he’d be sleeping with the dogs if he ever yelled at me,’ you told him.

blinking at you, soap took a moment to process it. ‘you’re his what?’ you nodded, pulling the necklace with your wedding band on it. he grabbed it gently, staring at the pretty stone. ‘he even knows what type of metal you wear?’

you nodded. ‘he’s a genuine sweetheart sometimes, but he has his reasons for speaking to you guys the way he does,’

‘i guess,’ soap looked away. ‘ever think about having kids,’ you shoved him away from you, laughing.

#simon riley x reader #fluff #simon ghost x reader #john soap mctavish #cod mw2 #task force 141 #modern warfare ii #call of duty x reader #call of duty #no use of y/n #simon riley #ghost mw2 #slight angst at first #it gets better #mentions of death

[alittletaste]

HIS MUSE

↳ The one where Harry’s struggling with his lyrics so you become his muse

Warnings: This contains smut so please be 18+ if you are going to read! A little under 2k words. It wouldn’t be my fic if I didn’t include some banter in here so I hope it makes you laugh. Enjoy and please remember to like and reblog! It means the world to me 🫶

-

It was early. That was all you could tell as you blinked your eyes opened to a dark room and an empty bed. You turn to look at the daunting red light of the alarm clock which signalled that it was just a few minutes past 3 in the morning. Sighing, you pull the covers off you, sitting up on the bed whilst rubbing your eyes before beginning the search to find your, as of lately, moody boyfriend.

As you walked down the hallway, you could hear deep groans coming from the one room you knew you’d find Harry in; the studio. You slowly knocked on the door before peeling the door open and popping your head in. “Hello” you spoke, catching sight of your incredibly fatigued and overwhelmed boyfriend hovering over the desk, his head popping out from where he had it in his hands.

“Hi” he sighed, “did I wake you?” Harry ran his hands through his hair before beckoning you over, patting his thigh indicating for you to take a seat which you gladly oblige. You straddle his lap, slowly leaving a kiss into his hair as you rub his back.

“Come back to bed” you mumble against his hair, “m’lonely”

“M’sorry peach. M’so close to finishing this lyric. Need to get this song done before I can come cuddle with you” he replied, groaning into your neck as you ran one of your hands through his hair as the other rubbed at his back, hoping to soothe some of his stress.

“Do it in the morning, besides a good nights sleep might help the process. No good stressing over it baby” you said, keeping you voice soft and quiet. Harry had been in the studio all day, stressing over some song he had to get done. It was his first solo album and he wanted everything to be perfect, it was a great deal to him but you knew that being exhausted and stressed out would not help the lyric writing at all so you had to go grab him and ease his mind before he got himself sick.

“I know” he sighed, “I just want this to be good. The band had amazing success, I’m scared I won’t be liked as a solo artist. The pressures getting to me and it’s scary, peach.” Harry whispered, confiding in you. You cooed, rubbing his back; now you knew nothing about the stress that came with being a solo artist but you did know the all too consuming feeling of not being good enough and you wanted to make him feel better. To show Harry what he’s truly worth and how amazing he is in his own way; band or no band.

“It’s ok to be scared bubs, this is a new chapter for you. A new stage in your life and if you weren’t stressed, I’d be worried but you need to know that your fans will love no matter what you put out. You don’t need to stress over a tiny lyric, your fans wouldn’t want that Harry. They’d want to know you’re having a good time writing these lyrics, not half killing yourself with the stress” you stated, taking Harry’s face into your hands and leaning in to press a long and passionate kiss to his full lips.

“You’re right. God I’m such a stupid fuck, I hate when I let little things get to me” he chuckled against you once he pulled back, his warm breath fanning over your skin making you feel all sorts of things. “I love you, y/n. You keep me grounded and protect me and for that I’m so thankful. Fuck, I love you. Did I say that already?” He asked making you giggle.

“Once or twice” you reply, a smile forming on your lips. You quickly lean down towards him to kiss him again before whispering an I love you into his ear. “I think I should treat you for all the hard work you’ve been up to today” you say, seductively moving your hips on his lap. Harry’s cock twitches with interest, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

“I think you absolutely should” he smirked making you giggle as you take his lips into yours once again, this time letting the make out session go on for longer as your fingers slowly move down Harry’s body, disappearing into his pants to palm at his hardening cock. He lets out a whine as your fingers curl around his shaft, jerking at it slowly. “Need your pants off” you groan into his lips and he obliges, letting you sink to your knees infront of him as he lifts up to drop his pants around his ankles. His cock springs into action and you moan at the sight. “Going to treat you so well” you say, eyeing his cock, your fingers returning to wrap around him.

“Yeah? Going to suck the stress out of me baby?” He speaks from above you, making you groan against him, this time from irritation.

“Don’t kill the mood Harry” you warn, your fingers tightening around his shaft as you slowly begin to pump him whilst licking your lips. Harry chuckles, mumbling a “only joking peach, I’m sorry”

You ignore him, wrapping your mouth around his cock and swallowing him right down.

"Oh, fuck." It comes out as a hiss. Harry’s fingers immediately find purchase against your head, cradling your face as he tries not to thrust into the wet-hot heat of your mouth.

He moans as you hum around him, the tip of Harry’s cock pressing against the softness of your throat. Then you slowly slide him all the way out your mouth, focusing on kitten licking the tip of his cock, suckling around the crown, lapping at the dripping precum that begins to drool from the tip.

Harry groans, eyes slipping closed as you continue to pump his length that’s not in your mouth with your hands, your tongue still focusing on his tip. “Fuck, please baby” he begs, making you finally give in and take him all the way down your throat once again. You slurp at him, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his dick. Your mouth is tight around him as you suck, moaning around your boyfriends length. Your fingers dig into the meat of his thighs as you begin to take his cock deeper. All the way until your nose is buried in the coarse hair of Harry’s groin.

"Oh-oh fuck” Harry whimpers, biting at his lips to keep from being too loud. He looks down at you, infront of him, your knees pressed into the small rug he keeps by his desk, your lips stretched sinfully around his thick dick; it was a sight straight out of Harry’s dreams.

You look up at him, keeping the eye contact as you continue to lick and suck at his cock, it was lustful and everything Harry needed in that moment. Harry knew he wasn’t going to last long, not with your warm mouth engulfing his length down whole, your throat fluttering around his tip; you were choking on it deliciously.

Harry cradles your face, smoothing his thumb across the jut of your cheek. He pets through your hair, fingers curling into the locks to grip it tightly. You moan, encouraging him to continue what he was doing and that’s exactly what he does. Harry holds you by the face, bucking against you. He thrusts into your mouth until you’re sputtering around his cock, nearly gagging around it. Drool pools at the edges of your mouth, bubbling from the seam of your lips, and Harry just watches as he fucks in and out.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as Harry continues with his ruthless pace of thrusting in and out of your mouth, using you for his pleasure. You moan around his length, sucking him dry, your tongue sweeping around the underside before pressing flat.

Heat curls in Harry’s belly, his balls tightening as you slowly start showing them some love too. Taking them into your hand and gently squeezing as Harry fucked your mouth. Your nostrils flare as he presses in as deep as he can go, settling his thick cock. "Fuck, you're perfect." He is quiet when he says this, reverent almost. "I love you"

You smile around him with a soft little cough, you fingers working harder to please his balls and your tongue doing the devils work as you licked and lapped at him once Harry released the hold he had on your head, his cock twitching a few times, signalling that he was really close.

He quickly pulls out, knowing he was going to cum, you sit pretty and open your mouth for him, your tongue jutting out ready to catch all that he has to offer. Harry pumps his cock, shuddering at the sensation, his palm tight around his length as he finishes on your tongue. Painting your mouth white with his spend, you swallow what he has to offer before moving your finger along your chin to drag the rest of his cum, that missed your tongue, into your mouth.

As you make a show of that, Harry groans, feeling his cock twitch. “Fuck you’re so sexy” he praises, reaching his hand towards you so that he can pull you up and onto his lap, you gladly accept, looking smug, extremely proud that you made his cum with your expert tongue in less then five minutes.

“I love you. I hope you’re not stressed anymore” you whisper against him, grabbing ahold of his face and taking his lips into your own. He could taste himself on you but he didn’t care, he loved you and wanted to show you that.

“I love you too. And God no, I’m not stressed anymore. I knew you’d suck the stress out of me. Besides, you’re my muse and this helped a whole lot. My creative juices are flowing”

“Yeah flowing into my belly” you joked making Harry let out a belly laugh, only he would find something so crude so funny.

“Look at you peach, taking inspiration from my jokes. You’re just like me” he says, brushing your hair back behind your ear with his finger.

“Never say that again, that’s the greatest insult you can give me” you joke playfully and Harry rolls his eyes.

“I’d be wounded if that came from someone else, but you, my darling just had my cock buried deep down your throat”

“And how does that relate to anything?” You egg him on, liking that this conversation, no matter how crude it was, was taking Harry’s mind off his work for a moment.

“That means you like me to some extent which means you’re lying”

“You’re right. I’m lying. I love you baby, the best thing in my life, you are” you reply, having had enough of the jokes, you wanted to love up on your man and that was what tonight was going to be. “Now come to bed, I’ve got other ways to help your creative juices to flow”

“Lead the way m’lady”

#Harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles one shots #Harry writing #Harry styles x you #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles imagine

[ohtobeleah]

Minimal Losses // Jake Seresin

Prologue // Kasper

Summary // The briefing had been disappear like a ghost. Fade into the background, take in your surroundings, get a read on the group. So when you woke up next to Jake Seresin the next morning? You know you already fucked it up.

Word Count // 3.7k

Warnings // Smut. Mentions of unprotected sex. Jake Seresin x female reader pairing.

Author Note // This series is gonna live in the same little universe as NCIS Bradley. Just for a little more depth. So don’t forget to read that if you haven’t gotten a chance to. MASTERLIST

Usually you wouldn’t mind an early wake up call. But it was Sunday morning and the way the sun came beating down on you through the open window made you groan in self defeat. Global warming was a legitimate thing, you could tell by the third degree burns you were going to fall victim to if you didn’t roll over as soon as possible.

Trying to escape the sun's burning raise, you rolled over into the shadows. With a gentle thud and a soft moan in response, you made contact with what could only be assumed to be a very muscular man. His back exposed and rippled with muscular terrain. Shooting up with concern, you held the thin black sheet you had been sleeping under to your exposed chest. Looking frantically around a bedroom that wasn’t yours. Oh. Oh no.

“Oh no—“ Looking back down beside you to where the dirty blonde man laid sleeping soundly on his chest, you felt your heart beating out of your chest in sheer and utter panic. “Oh no no no no no—“ It was the guy from the bar. The guy from the bar who wouldn’t stop trying to grab your attention. It was the guy from the bar whose eyes lingered on you all night, regardless if you were reciprocating the lingering or not. It was the guy from the bar who had let you beat him in a game of pool, best two out of three he said—again he let you win.

It was the guy from the bar whose mouth tasted of whiskey and vanilla and whose skin felt so velvety smooth. It was the guy from the bar who took you home and fucked you deep into his mattress like it wouldn’t have been a big issue if he needed to buy a new frame. It was the guy from the bar who had an infatuation with your glasses—he’d asked to cum on your face while you were wearing them. Down on your knees as he painted you.

You had been doing some light reading on your soon to be team. A bunch of TopGun graduates that would hopefully help aid you in the process of taking down your target, and of course help keep you safe and keep you walking the fine line of trying to pass as a weapons system officer. The briefing had been to disappear like a ghost. Fade into the background, take in your surroundings, get a read on the group. This hadn’t gone well when Jake Seresin had approached you from across the bar, trapping you in a booth.

“Oh my gosh—“ You’d fucked up. You’d fucked up bad. Trying your best to sneak out of the bed undetected, slowly moving over to the edge when you could hang your legs over. Realising you were still completely naked and exposed. Pausing to hide your face in the palms of your hands as you pushed your hair out of your face. “Stupid—so stupid.” If Hotch found out about this, if Bradshaw found out about this, they’d kill you. They’d take you off this case faster than you could scream ‘I only fucked him because he paid attention to me!’

“You going somewhere?” The blonde beside you rolled over with a sigh, his muscles flexing as he tossed and turned over to face you. “If you give me like five minutes I’ll make some coffee.”

“I’m sorry—I really have to go.” Pulling the sheet with you, Jake lifted his pelvis up slightly to free the trapped fabric. Watching with sleepy eyes and a gruff voice as you collected your scattered clothing. Completely and utterly disregarded around his bedroom. “I can’t believe I did this—“

“You gotta go right now?” Jake sat up with a groan as he looked over to his alarm clock. It was seven in the morning. “It’s seven on a Sunday morning—?”

“I shouldn’t even be here.” Mumbling to yourself as you collected your things, dropping the sheet exposing yourself to Jake as his eyebrows lifted. Damn. You were even more beautiful in the morning. Not usually his type but something really drew him in to you. “I shouldn’t have slept with you—“

“Just so we’re entirely clear here, that wasn’t a I didn’t want to sleep with you?” Letting his legs hang off the side of the bed Jake reached down for a pair of boxer briefs.

“Yes of course I wanted to, otherwise I wouldn’t have!” You gruffed back. Shimming your jeans on. “But I shouldn’t have, I have to go—really, I need to leave before—“

“Wait, hang on a minute.” Standing to his feet as he made his way over to you. “You don’t have a husband right?” Looking at your fingers, inspecting to see if there was a ring he’d missed last night. Nope. Nothing. “Boyfriend perhaps?”

“What?” Why on earth would anyone assume you had a boyfriend? Or a husband for that matter. You were the last person on earth that would ever find someone who loved you enough to spend the rest of their lives with you. “No no it’s not that it’s just—“ There was a part of you who wanted to just come out and say it. But you couldn’t. “Listen, Jack—“

“It’s Jake.” Jake corrected you with a smirk. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that sweetheart you were moaning it pretty fucking frequently last night.” Jake rendered you speechless for a moment as he stood before you, momentarily bending over to hand you the shirt that had dropped from your hands. “Stay, I’ll make you coffee.” Jake had never in his life asked a girl he brought back to his place to stay for coffee the next morning. This was uncharted territory for him. And the fact your response wasn’t to melt into a puddle at his feet really threw him off.

“I really can’t stay.” Taking the shirt from Jake's hands you pressed up onto your toes and kissed his cheek softly. A subtle parting gift. You knew you would see him come tomorrow morning. You knew that whatever version of yourself Jake had formulated in his mind would come unraveling when you stood before him Monday morning and asked the world of him and his team.

It was wrong what you had done—even if you weren’t the one who essentially initiated it. And Jake never asked if you were FBI. Why would he? That’s not a question you just go around asking people, but after this? You wouldn’t blame him for adding it to his vetting list.

“Okay, so let me make you a coffee to go?” You were falling for it again, the charm of a man who was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. Learning to play the game and compromise where he could. “What could come from a simple cup of coffee huh?” You weren’t expecting it to be a trick fucking question, but it was. Because the second Jake was handing you the coffee he’d ever so kindly put into one of his take away keep cups, your lips were crashing against his and your arms were reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck. Coffee instantly forgotten.

“Fuck–” Jakes voice was oh so primal as he picked you up and placed you gently on the dinning table. Your legs wrapping around his torso to pull him close. “Your pressing desire to leave subsided, did it?” He was taunting you, how desperate you had become for him. Jake Seresin loved a power play, and with you he felt it straight away. The mousy quietness you radiated just drew him and spat him straight back out. Addicted to the quietness your ora put out into the world. “What's my name huh?”

“Jake–” You moaned as his hands trailed down to the zip of your jeans. “Your name is Jake.” It was barely above a whisper as you moaned against his mouth. Teeth clashing against each other as your hands work to pull at the elastic of his boxer briefs. Snapping it back against his pelvis. Invoking a cheshire cat-like smirk to plaster itself across his face. Pulling away to help you rid yourself of the denim jeans. Tugging them off with desperation to be inside you again in a needy rush before you had a chance to change your mind. “Please–”

“Please what? Huh?” Jake Seresin was a cocky as fuck pilot and even more sure of himself in bed. He knew he was good, but the way he already had you begging mad his cock fucking plump and hard and begging for attention as you reached in to relieve some of the pressure. Your hand softly wrapping around his length, pumping slowly as your legs once again wrapped around his waist. “What do you want me to do?” He hadn’t been able to get you to say it all night, too sky, too quiet to beg. But it was worth a shot.

“You know what.” You hadn’t been able to find your underwear, but that was a loss you were willing to take when you were above ready to rush out the front door. Commando under your jeans, Jake liked your style as he pressed himself against you. Lips still moulding as one as his tongue explored your mouth. Pushing his boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of the holes that took his ankles hostage before kicking them away. Jake wouldn't be needing them anytime soon. Pulling away as you guided the tip of his cock closer and closer to your entrance. Slick and needy all for him. “I'm not gonna say it.”

“You want me to fuck you dont you?” Jake teased as he groaned in your ear, napping at the pulse point on your neck. “But you don't know how to ask, do you?” It was slightly degrading, but you loved it. “You want me to fuck you like a whore even though you’d never dare ask to be.” Nodding frantically before Jake slammed himself into you without warning.``

“Ah Fuck!!” You never swore. Ever, but it felt so right in the moment. “Fuck, oh my god–!” Full. It felt so good to feel so full, the pressure against your cervix and the way the underside of Jake's cock brushed against your velvet walls with every thrust. His grip on your hips incredibly tight as he fucked into you without remorse, without mercy. “So good, yes! Fuck!”

“God, you feel amazing.” Jake groaned as his hips rolled. His balls slapping against the curve of your ass as he pushed you down onto the table. The glass cool against your exposed back. Lifting your legs over his shoulders to get another, deeper angle. “Oh that's it, right there sweetheart.” Jake Seresin was a firm believer in foreplay and he’d spent the better part of last night with his face between your thighs with his tongue working you over, fighting through cramps and a locked jaw just to get you where you needed to go. But right now? This was different, this was needy, fast fucking. Noone came out of this walking properly. Not him, not you. “Keep clenching around me like that and I'm gonna give you a face full.” He wasn't joking, it was a warning.

“Keep-” You tried to talk through the intense sensation. “Keep fucking me–oh my gosh–” Jake couldnt hide the smirk that lit up his fast at the way you tried to run from him. Pressing his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves to bring you closer and closer to your high. Knowing just by the way you were clenching around him that you were almost done for. “Fuck! Jake, keep fucking me like this and I won’t be able to stop!” It was your way of saying, ‘Yes, I want you to cum on my face’ But you would never ever say something like that. To anyone. Especially someone you hardly even knew. That you had met at a bar by the coast.

It really wasn't long before Jake had you right where he wanted you, watching as your jaw unhinged and your eyes rolled as you tried to slither up the table away from him. The pressure was so intense that for a moment you thought you were going to pass out. Small black dots clouding your vision. Your orgasm hitting you like a semi-truck. Washing over you like a tsunami as you moaned Jake's name and tried to hide from him.

“Oh please dont even hide from anyone, you’re so fucking beautiful.'' Jake groaned as he pulled out, pumping his shaft to an aggressive speed as his own orgasm pulled at the base of his shaft. Balls tight as he came on your lower stomach. “Ohhhhh fuck god yes, yes–!” It was otherworldly to hear a man call you beautiful. It was otherworldly what Jake Seresin had been able to make you feel. But it was an inevitable fate that you had to accept as you sat up and kissed him slowly and oh so passionately. He was going to wish he never had met you come Monday morning. “At least let me make you breakfast before you go?” Jake chuckled softly as he let his forehead rest against yours momentarily. Stepping away to fetch you some tissue, cleaning up the mess he’d made. “I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you left now, even if it's just a fresh cup of coffee?” Looking over to where the keep cup sat now iced cold, you mulled the idea of staying over in your head for a moment or two. Sighing in defeat because this was gonna hurt so much worse the longer you decided to stay.

“Sure– but I should go freshen up a little.” Back to your normal quiet and reserved self, Jake passed you your clothes before you padded down the hall. Grabbing your phone from the kitchen bench, noticing the four missed calls and seven text messages from Agent Bradshaw.

“Do I need to be concerned about your absence?”

“Call me back when you get these okay?”

“Kas, call me asap!”

“Are you even going to bother showing up to this briefing?”

They were all along the same lines, where the fuck were you? Racing to the bathroom to change back into the same clothes you had left the bar with Jake in last night, you locked the door behind you and thought that the only way you could possibly get out without Jake asking questions. Without him begging you to stay, without him projecting his own insecurities about fucking you on his kitchen dinning table and sending you on your way would be to slip out the window of the his bathroom.

Which is exactly what you did.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Rooster, man–what the hell is this lovely lady doing on base?” Jake beamed from across the hall as he noticed the heavily pregnant Mrs Bradshaw strolling casually next to her husband. “You’re a surprise that doesn’t always come with good tidings Gibbs.”

“Good to see you too Hangman–” She beamed back as she held her hand to show the wedding band that wrapped around her ring finger ever so delicately. “And it's Bradshaw now, Agent Bradshaw—get it through that thick skull of yours.”

“Ah sorry, how could I forget huh?” Teasing the seven months pregnant NCIS Special Agent as she waddled into his embrace. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head. Rooster just watched on– oh how his friends adored his wife just as much as he did. The respect they held for her too, Bob especially. “But still, what are you doing here?” It was a solemn smile Jake received as the woman who had captivated Bradley Bradshaw's heart pulled away from his embrace and stepped a little closer to her husband. A protective hand coming up to rest across her forever expanding belly. “A case?” It wasn't an odd occurrence to see the better half of the Bradshaws around base. Usually clung to her forever mores hip having lunch. But Jake had seen the credentials pinned to her chest. The Identification tag that told everyone she was here for business, reluctantly, not pleasure.

“You know I can't divulge Jake.” Rooter tightened the grip he had on his wife's hip. He knew. He always knew, and this one? This one was a real gut churner. “But I promise you’ll know in like half an hour, but I gotta follow proper procedure.” Jake just nodded in response. He was sure Rooster already knew what was up. He wasn't good at keeping secrets and he didn't have a poker face to save his life. Jake could see it in his eyes, the concern.

“Is that what this whole special detachment is about?” Jake tried to press before Bradley was cutting him off with a soft scoff.

“What don't you get about confidentiality man?”

“Oh come on! I know this shits like, like pillow talk to you two.” Jake countered back as he walked with the couple towards the hanger. It had been set up like a TopGun class. The seats and tables all lined up in front of a podium and whiteboard. It brought back memories. Way too many to count. “God give me something.” Everyone else had already begun to congregate in their respective chairs.

“How’d your hookup go Saturday night?” Rooster tried to change the subject as he felt his wife stiffen beside him, pausing in her step as she leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Whispering she had to go before Rooster had a chance to say yes no or maybe so about it. “Heard from Coyote you left with some absolute wild card?” Everyone knew Jake Hangman Seresins type. You were the last person Rooster ever expected Coyote to mention. As soon as Coyote had mentioned the fact you had a book with you, Rooster thought he entered another dimension. Smart wasn’t on Hangman's radar.

“Oh no, no I'm not talking about it.” Jake Seresin had never been on the receiving end of the old slip out the bathroom window trick. He’d used it only a handful of times in his youth. But he was never the one left wondering what was taking so long. It took him a whole twenty minutes to finger out you’d slipped out the window. He hadn’t gotten your number, he hadn’t gotten your socials, he did however have a name. But that was it. “Didn’t go well.”

“What? What do you mean? Javy said he saw you leaving together?” Rooster could sense by the way Jake tried his best to shrug off the game of twenty one questions as they slid into their seats. Bob and Phoenix to their right. “What could have possibly gone wrong Mr five star rating?”

“She dined and dashed alright.” Jake hissed. “Now drop the damn subject!” Jake sunk a little lower into his seat, his head resting against the back of the chair as he let out a sigh. Rooster could not believe what he was hearing. This was the best news ever. “I’m keeping all my windows permanently locked.”

“Oh that's just perfect.” Rooster grinned ear to ear. “That's gotta bring it down to like a four point one.” Rooster continued on his little gloating session, Jake was quick to tune him out as he caught the eye of a woman walking beside Maverick. The flight suit gave it away instantly that she was navy– but it was the pair of glasses he swore he’d cum on on Saturday night that really caught his attention. “ I actually remember the first time someone dined and dashed on me—“ Rooster was still drowning on as Jake's eyes never left you. Waiting for you to look at him, seething, tongue sticking into the side of his cheek. “Must have been like junior year of high school though—“

“What’s rule thirty six again?” Jake groaned as he balled his fist, spreading his legs to adjust himself because fuck—he couldn’t not see you with your jaw slack moaning his name the way you had been Saturday night and again Sunday morning. “Something like if you’ve been played?” Everyone who had gotten to know Bradley’s wife had become familiar with her fathers set of rules, Jake included. But Rooster carried a small pocket book with him at all times because he, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t fucking keep up. Opening the book he had in his pocket—Rooster found the rule.

“If you feel like you’re being played, you probably are.” Rooster corrected Jake as he sighed. Squinting his eyes shut right as he held the bridge of his nose. “Why?” As Rooster asked, he caught sight of the women standing next to Maverick, waiting patiently for the brood of restless aviators to quiet down and settle in—today was gonna be a long day. “Oh shit—no way.” Rooster caught on quickly. “No way that’s her, Dude? I don’t wanna be rude here but she’s, she’s kinda—“ Bradley didn’t wanna say it but he said it regardless. He felt awful too, but this was Hangman he was talking to. Hangman fucked a specific kind of woman and you certainly weren’t his type. “Dorky?”

“I’ve been played.” Jake groaned as you finally looked his way, you looked like you could cry. So unbelievably sorry for what you had done. It was incredibly out of pocket if you. “Big time—“

“Okay guys listen up.” Pete bellowed as the group finally settled down. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off you. How did he not know? “This is Lieutenant Ava Jackson, Callsign Kasper.” It wasn’t far from the truth. At least the callsign wasn’t. Everyone at the bureau called you Kasper, or Kas for short. Something to do with your quiet nature. “She’ll be joining us on our latest detachment, Bob, Fanboy—you’ve got yourself another groupie.” Pete smiled as he watched you find a seat in the back. Keeping your head down.

You were a naval aviator, a weapons systems officer at that and Jake hadn’t known. How could he not know that? Something was off. Something was majorly off. He had a rule about back seaters and usually he could spot a fellow aviator a mile away.

Instead he’d fucked Kasper the friendly ghost, and caught feelings for whatever unknown reason—for a girl who wasn’t even able to say goodbye. For a girl who’d lied about who she was, what she was and who she was about to pretend to be.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags // @auroraboreallisfine @buckythewintersquirrel @a-lil-bit-nuts @bookaholics-stuff @ilovewhalesharks444 @a-serene-place-to-be

#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #jake seresin smut #hangman seresin #hangman x y/n #hangman #top gun hangman

[veryinnovative]

how would et james react to reg bringing someone home for the first time (like in the first couple months that he is living w him as clem)

I HAVE THIS WRITTEN OUT BUT IT'S SUPER ROUGH </3 also 98% dialogue bc i build fanfics around dialogue since that acts as the spine. i usually don't post shit early but im so far behind on tt that it might take a while for alien au to take up the spotlight again, especially with how January is gonna be a SUPER busy month with my exam week coming up

“You’re kidding me,” the stranger rumbles. “Don’t tell me he’s gonna be watching us.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m being ridiculous? He’s been staring at us the entire time! You’re not listening.” “What’s it with everyone and my cat? Maybe you just have to know how to behave around him,” Regulus mutters, taking off his shirt. James wants to scream because he’s undressing in front of a stranger, which he has learned is something exclusive to very close friends or intimate partners, but he’s trapped in cat form. Then, Regulus points towards the door. “Clem, out.” James meows, backing into the corner. “Come on, darling. You can’t be in here, I can’t traumatize your poor eyes like that.” “Did it just shake his fucking head, what the fuck?” the stranger almost yells. “Clem is a very smart cat.” “No fucking cat shakes its head!” “Clem, come now. Be a good boy. I’m trying to enjoy myself tonight.” James doesn’t know what that means but the implications and the stranger taking off their shirt are making him very determined to stay. 

But pretty much james hates their fucking guts. stares them down. fucking panics when they walk into regulus' bedroom and its just him almost reverting to original form and killing the dude. reg carries him out of the bedroom and in his anxiety, james accidentally scratches him, which lands him in timeout. he knows he upset reg and tries be good and sit in the corner in the hallway but absolutely loses it when he smells a strong scent of reg and the nightstand getting serious and starts clawing onto the door and crying. the dude is absolutely fucking fed up and is like 'if you let that stupid cat interrupt us one more time im fucking leaving' and reg is equally fed up and p much kicks them out of his house before tending 2 james

Regulus sighs, hair disheveled, and drops to his knees. “What’s wrong, Clem?” James makes sounds closest to that of a cat crying while pawing onto Regulus’ leg until he picks him up. Regulus makes a face but remains crouched on the ground. “You were supposed to be on time-out.” James noses the small, thin scratch on Regulus’ arm and licks it, apologetic “So you’re sorry is what you’re trying to say?” “Meow.” Regulus sighs and finally, finally takes James into his arms. Instantly, he lets out engine purrs of content, butting his head against Regulus’ jaw. Downstairs, the front door slams shut. Good riddance, James thinks. “Don’t worry, you helped me out there. He really sucked at oral, and not even in a good way.” James blinks, confused, and gives the sideways cock of his head. Regulus drops himself onto the bed, which smells too strongly of the stranger, but James tries and not focus on this too much. Instead, he buries himself in the crook of Regulus’ body, chasing after the spots where his scent is strongest, wants to live in the curve of his neck “I wish I was a cat. Life seems so easier.” Reg murmurs James agrees with this. If Regulus was a cat they’d have a nice cat life. They’d cuddle up in an Amazon box and James would groom him until he was [man idk insert more cat couple shit Or. Or, James could turn into a human.

#answered #fic / e.t. #<3

[billy-hardgrove]

One time.

He only came to visit him in the hospital the one time.

In the months following the incident at Starcourt Billy had been bed bound in his hospital room. He had barely survived, his body nearly ripped asunder; and the only visitors he was allowed were family, or people in the “know” of what really happened there.

Which was fine with him, he didn’t imagine many other people would have come to see him.

For the first two weeks Max was a no show, and he couldn’t exactly blame her. But one day she sheepishly poked her head in through the door, and as soon as she saw Billy’s broken body she burst into tears and barely left his side.

They argued a lot. About dumb shit. And it always put a smile on his face.

Steve was there as soon as he was able, as soon as he’d healed enough to walk without getting light-headed. He was another near permanent fixture to Billy’s bedside. They talked, they watched TV, they read together, they sampled the hospital food and bitched about it. They had started getting close before everything went to hell, and Steve seemed adamant on picking up where they left off.

The rest of the party visited from time to time. At first he thought they felt some sort of obligation to come and see him, because of Steve and Max, but over time they began to pop in on their own. They’d bring him snacks, or fill him in on what was going on around town during his absence. And even though he had zero inclination in playing their nerdy little game, they still helped him build his own character. He had no idea what any of it meant, but they said he was a Fighter, and for some stupid reason that had choked him up.

Even Susan came at least once a week. She was worried he wasn’t eating properly there, and they had developed a… silent agreement that she would come in, dry wash his hair, style it a little, and then leave; all without saying a word.

She was far from being a mother to him. But she was getting there. It actually felt like she cared.

But of all the people in his life, the one person who should have been there the most was there the least. And it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Despite everything they’d gone through, he still thought his father would visit every day. He had to, right? It was his responsibility.

But he only visited the one time.

Two months after Starcourt, two months stuck in a lifeless, clinical room. Two months of lonely nights filled with the sounds of echoing footsteps out in the hall, and the constant beeping of the machines keeping him alive. Only then did Neil come to see his son with news.

“We’re leaving Hawkins.”

“Huh?” Blood rushed to his head, he’d sat up too quickly upon hearing that. His father had that same cold, stern look on his face he always did. He didn’t repeat himself. “Wh- where? Why didn’t Susan say anything? Max?”

“They’re not coming with us.” The color drained from his face, and his heart sank into his stomach. Why did that hit him so hard?

“What are you talking about? Why…?” Some of that old fire ignited inside him, his brows furrowing into the meekest of scowls, but one that Neil still picked up on. The older man narrowed his eyes and approached the side of Billy’s bed, the teen shrinking back against the pillow propping him up. The reaction was enough for Neil to ease up. Even now he had to remind Billy of his place.

“They don’t want to leave. They want to stay in this… cursed town.” The corner of Neil’s mouth twitched up into a sneer, an expression that Billy recognized in himself. The thought of being anything like his father made him sick to his stomach, he had to turn away, stare out the window at the expanse of reds and oranges streaking over the early evening sky. Of course, Neil came near the end of visiting time, spend as little time here as possible. “This place has been nothing but trouble since we got here. It almost killed you.” There was no concern in his voice, he was merely stating a fact; not lamenting the fate that almost befell his son.

“I like it here.” The words stumbled from Billy’s mouth and took them both by surprise. His head jerked back around to Neil, eyes wide with anticipation, unsure how the older man would take that.

“Excuse me?” His voice was quiet. Still. That calm before the storm that Billy was all too familiar with. He so rarely actually raised his voice, his rage was always expressed in other ways. The sort of ways that left Billy black and blue.

“I said I like it here. I don’t wanna leave.” As he stared into his father’s eyes his mind flashed back to that night. Glaring defiantly up at that mass of flesh and teeth. He took on a literal monster. It tore into his body, broke his mind in half. It did far more damage than the man before him ever did. So why was he still so scared of him?

“You’re my son, and you’ll do as I say.” Another step closer to the bed, closer to Billy. His eyes instinctively darted down towards his father’s hand; already clenched into a fist. He wouldn’t… not here. He couldn’t get his son to lie away the extra bruises this time. “Susan and Max can stay here and rot for all I care. I thought you wanted to leave.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for me!” He snapped, his head spinning from the sudden lurch upwards; his own fists gripping tightly at the bedsheets, the only thing protecting him from his father’s rage. “Shit got fucked again and you want to high tail and start again! I know people are saying the mall fire was my fault.” The accusation brought a grimace to his face. Arson. Better that than the truth, right? But the fact still remained that he was being blamed him for the death of all those people. It was the only reason his father wanted to leave. To get away from the shame. “Surprised you want to take me at all.”

“I don’t.”

All that previous bravado was gone in a second; Billy’s eyes wide, his ears ringing.

“...What?”

“I don’t want to take you. You’re eighteen now, I could just leave you here. Susan seems content enough making you her problem. I think I’ve suffered the shame you bring long enough.”

Billy’s mouth opened, but all he could manage was a croak from his throat as it desperately choked back a sob. This wasn’t real. His father wasn’t actually saying all of this. He couldn’t.

“I was trying to do the right thing. But if you want to stay here? That’s just one less thing for me to worry about. One less mouth to feed.” The older man took a deep, exasperated breath and rubbed a hand over his face; a quick glance over his shoulder towards the door before he looked back to the blonde and gave him a look that almost stopped his heart.

Cold. Uncaring. There wasn’t even a trace of love in that steely gaze. No violence. No anger. Just a tired man who had so flippantly washed his hands of his own son right then and there.

“D-Dad… I-” He had to cut himself off again, the tightness in his throat gripping him again. He could already feel his eyes getting wet, but he was well practiced in holding back his tears. “I don’t… understand.” A coldness crept over him, one he hadn’t felt since his time under the Mindflayer’s influence. This was a trick, it had to be. The damn thing wasn’t dead, it was still-

“You can change your mind. You can follow me, if you like. But know this: if you do? You’ll obey me without question. I’ve given you far too much freedom here, and look where it’s gotten you.” The older man stared down his nose at his son, the look of disdain on his face was at least a small comfort for Billy. Something more familiar. He would rather his father be disappointed in him than feel nothing at all.

“Yes sir.” There was nothing else to say, was there? He wanted to stay, and Neil wanted to go. Hawkins felt as though it were in his veins now, as much as the black blood that still invaded his body. This place had changed him. Could he go anywhere else? Maybe he belonged here now, with the other freaks, the other ghosts, the other monsters. The real ones.

Not the one standing next to his bed.

No other words were spoken. No goodbyes, no protests. Just the sound of those heavy footsteps as they walked out of Billy’s room, out of his life. And when the door clicked close he finally broke. At first just a single tear ran down his cheek, and then that sob finally pushed up from his chest like he was about to be sick. And he began to cry. A pillowed snatched up and clutched to his chest, face buried into it as he balled and trembled.

Why did everyone leave him?

They were his parents. They were supposed to love him. But now they were both gone.

At least that night, there was another sound to keep him company. His quiet, muffled sobs and hiccups as he cried himself to sleep.

#ficlet #Stranger Things #Billy Hargrove #Neil Hargrove #First thing I've wrote on my own in awhile

[maeglinyedi]

Yes, I'm still alive and I come bearing gifts. I needed a bit of a break, as I usually do after I've spent a few months writing. But this fall my seasonal depression reared its ugly head worse than usual and put me on my arse for a few months. After some much needed rest and an adjustment of my meds I'm feeling more like a human being again, thankfully. I've started writing a new chapter for Lives Lived and Lives Lost and I'm offering you all a preview as a thank you for being so patient with me. I hope to finish it and post it in the next few days.

Life # 21: That time Harry and Tom were Holmes and Watson

Tom got his memories back the usual way. He met Harry while his friend Mike introduced them at St Bart’s.

Of course, what was different this time around was that Harry introduced himself as Sherlock Holmes with a tiny yet insufferable smile. And then he promptly showed off by metaphorically undressing Tom where he stood as he summed up detail after detail about Tom’s life that he couldn’t possibly know.

Tom slowly closed his eyes. Harry was Sherlock Holmes and Tom was John Watson. Or some modern version of them, at any rate.

How did these lives even get chosen? Who decided what sort of people they were going to be life after life? The previous life they’d been a couple of dog groomers, for fuck’s sake, living a peaceful life in Austria until they died of natural causes while they were well into their eighties.

And now they apparently were the world’s most famous detective along with his faithful sidekick.

Before he could stop it, a sharp pang of envy coursed through Tom’s body, leaving a sour trail in its wake.

Tom should have been Sherlock Holmes. Not Harry the bumbling Gryffindor. Tom was the consummate Slytherin. Tom was always the clever one, no matter what sort of life they led. That’s not to say that Tom as John Watson was stupid. Not at all. Tom in is current itineration was plenty smart. He was a medical doctor, after all. But he wasn’t Sherlock Holmes levels of smart and that stung, no matter that Tom didn’t want to ever feel envious of his soulmate.

Harry announced that Tom could be his roommate and told him to come to 221b Baker Street before giving him a cheeky wink. And then he was gone and Tom was left staring into space in complete shock.

“Yeah,” Mike said with a knowing smile. “He’s always like that.”

Something told Tom he’d be spending most of his time this life trying to save Harry from himself. No matter what kind of life Harry led, he was always the impulsive one. Combine that with a newly acquired genius level intellect and an unstoppable need to solve every interesting crime that came his way and it didn’t take the world’s most famous detective to deduct that Harry was going to get himself killed sooner rather than later.

Oh fuck. If there existed a Sherlock Holmes and a John Watson in this world, there also had to be a James Moriarty. Sherlock Holmes’ arch-nemesis and reportedly at least equally as intelligent. And in every single fictional story starring Sherlock Holmes that Tom had ever read, Moriarty always, always wanted to destroy Sherlock Holmes. 

Yeah, this version of Moriarty was going to be in for a bit of a surprise, because this Sherlock Holmes had a former Dark Lord on his side, determined to keep him safe. Tom squared his shoulders and said a quick goodbye to Mike. There was no time to waste. Harry could be landing himself in a world of trouble right at that moment without Tom to keep him safe.

Tom had been a genius once upon a life. Granted, he’d used that genius intellect to turn himself into a magical mass-murderer while valiantly trying to rule the entire world, consequences be damned. But that experience might serve him well enough to predict what a criminal mastermind like Moriarty might plan to see Harry end up in an early grave.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter/tom riddle #tomarry fanfiction #tomarry #tom riddle #harry potter series #harrymort #tom/harry #fanfiction #lives lived and lives lost #my fics

[death-in-a-handbasket]

HEY HEY HEY. assorted analysis and thoughts on yukito >:)

This doesn’t contain fic spoilers but it will make certain behavioral things about him make sense, so if you want to make your own theories and deduce it just from the canon content or the fic, that’s fine, but here’s the mechanics I’m working off of :0

So one of the few pieces of info we get to work with is that he’s been working for 20 years, suggesting that’s when the government took him in as well as indicating his ability kicked in when he was about 7. That’s frighteningly young. I don’t doubt he was inclined to be smart from the start, but the idea that he’d have to witness bloody accidental deaths as a child is bound to leave him fucked up in SOME way.

It also sets him up to be isolated early on. I have no doubts that he was likely painfully aware from an early age that he’s smarter than most and unavoidably dangerous. I have never seen any parents be mentioned or shown which tells me that he was either (in classic bsd style) an orphan, or he was forcefully taken from his parents— which is a whole other layer of yikes. Regardless, I can’t imagine the government was gentle towards him in any way, after all, he’s marked as a designated threat. From that, I don’t think showing emotion or socializing like a normal person is in his wheelhouse. I don’t think he knows much in the way of softness either, especially verbally. He is blunt and doesn’t give a fuck in so many ways, although I do think he comes by that naturally. (I don’t doubt that the way he displays love is acts of service. It’s All He Knows Bro.)

Now, this isolation created by his ability ends up manifesting in two ways. For one, he generally keeps to himself, you don’t often see him talking about his own opinions and interests, and you especially don’t see him discussing his past. He very rarely volunteers any information about himself, likely under the notion that nobody has ever asked nor wants to know. He probably also doesn’t socialize or talk about himself because he’s been put on such a pedestal of danger and intelligence that he likely feels that no one would understand any of it to begin with. He’s here to work, why on earth would you want to know anything about him??

The second way his isolation manifests is in the doll collecting. For one, one of the few panels we have of him as a child has him holding one, suggesting that they’ve been the only stable constant in his life. He’s bound to find that comforting, especially if it can’t leave him or be afraid of him. Plus, his ability cannot kill it, a rare grace in his line of work. It’s no wonder he finds them more interesting than people, they’re probably the only things that would bother listening to him. In essence, it’s a doppelgänger of humanity, except they understand him and don’t demand anything of him.

From what I see, his experiences with other people boil down to three main interactions. Criminals, who he is tasked to kill and who he likely wouldn’t want to know regardless. After all, he does hold strong that the world should not have murderous assholes in it. There’s civilians, who are not on the same level as him and wouldn’t understand him or his line of work to begin with, so he’d dismiss them as simply ordinary and rather stupid. The last encounter is anyone in the government, whose main goal is to use him.

All the government does is restrict him for an ability he did not choose to have and use him as a weapon, but they hardly see him as an actual person. In that way, he’s only ever valued for his ability but no one has ever taken an interest in who he is outside of that, he’s there to be useful, end of story. And of course, if he were to fail a case, they’d kill him. He literally earns his living, with every case he solves, he gets the privilege of being alive. And there’s no out in this deal either, they’ll work him til he’s dead and if he were to leave or go rogue, it would be a death sentence. In essence, as stressful as this current situation is, it’s the most stable option for living he’s got.

He’d sooner be on his deathbed than admit any of his feelings out loud. But the work, as much as he’s made peace with his situation, still likely takes a toll on him. Not to mention the inherent feeling of not belonging and feeling inhuman. But I think he takes his ability and his natural intelligence as a way to justify and be at peace with being alone, no point in fighting against it.

Thus, the idea that someone would want to know him and treat him like a normal person regardless of his ability and job, well that would be rather startling now wouldn’t it? He’s used to operating solo and being wanted for what he can do rather than who he is, that’s why friends with benefits is so comfortable for him, it’s a dynamic he knows. So the idea that someone is interacting with him for a purpose that isn’t linked to a demand of some sort is very strange and very new for him. If he acts weird, it’s because he is weird, he only has half an idea of how to interact with the reader. He doesn’t quite know how to human but oh baby he’s trying.

#fox’s soapbox #the scriptures #yukito ayatsuji #bsd #bsd gaiden #bsd ayatsuji

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

This is pretty much a continuation of this post. The post that documents my enjoyment of the Andy Zaltzman/Nish Kumar/Hari Kondabolu combination. The original lineup of the revamped Bugle – in its early days it only had one guest per episode, and Hari was on the first episode, and Nish on the second. This made it interesting to listen to those two episodes in a row. Hari’s episode: jarring, rough, hard to handle after I’d just listened to the entire John Oliver/Andy Zaltzman run where they clicked perfectly, and now instead of John we have this Hari guy, who does not appear to know what show he’s on and could not possibly have less chemistry with Andy. Then the next episode somewhat assuaged my fears, as Nish opened his episode by referencing a long-running Bugle joke (“Hello Buglers and fuck you Chris”), and immediately jumped in with his strong rapport with Andy that he’d built over doing live gigs with him for several years (not in a double act way like John and Andy or anything, they’d just been on the same bills together a lot.

Now, The Bugle does two guests per episode, and every time we get these two together it’s a treat. Which means there was a fucking excellent episode of The Bugle the other day. One of their best in a while. It had that golden lineup – obviously Nish and Hari are both funny individually, but they also work well with each other. Partly because they’re friends and know how to play off each other’s styles really well, but more than that, they make a fun contrast. Nish as the longtime Bugle nerd (arguably, when John Oliver left The Bugle in 2016, Nish Kumar was pretty much waiting in the wings ready to steal his life, by which I mean his regular Bugle spot and his position in Daniel Kitson’s “here’s a stupid thing my friend did” stories) who would probably die for Andy Zaltzman. Hari as the outsider American for whom it’s a running joke that he has never listened to The Bugle and never will; and regards Andy Zaltzman, The Bugle, Bugle listeners, and all of Britain, with a sort of amused, only very affectionate bafflement.

In this episode, we got several running jokes, including Hari bringing back “how dare you ask me that?” as his answer to the initial “how are you?”, which I think he hadn’t done in a while. And some callbacks to original-run Bugle episodes.

Andy Zaltzman: The first of November, 1512, truly a momentus day. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was exhibited to the public for the first time. Michaelangelo’s famous piece of DIY. Reactions and reviews on social media at the time – well, it’s fair to say were mixed as reactions on social media tend to be. They included “more cocks and balls than I was expecting from the ceiling”. Another person wrote “I’ve heard it’s good but I haven’t seen it yet”. Classic social media reaction. Someone else wrote “absolute rubbish, the way they used to do ceilings was way better”. Again, these things just don’t change through time. Another comment was “Why do modern artists insist on painting people how they actually look these days? What’s wrong with painting simplified, stylized versions of the human form? Pretentious, elitist, and above all woke. One star.” Again, just classic from social media. Another person wrote “I’m going to fucking kill you, Michaelangelo, you fucking fuck.” Some things never change. And another response was “Do you like betting? If you’d like the best odds on how many people will die in the next cholera outbreak in Rome, click here.” So we’d like to think that civilization progresses, but maybe it doesn’t. As a special treat, a bonus extra at the end of today’s show, we will play you the full story of how Michaelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel, how he replied with an emphatic "Vat I can" to Julius the Second’s question “Can you paint that ceiling, bud?” As revealed, exclusively, way back in issue 34 of The Bugle. A bonus blast from the past. Nish Kumar: Is that Mickey Paintbrush, by any chance? Andy Zaltzman: it is, yes. Issue 34, it was quite early on. Nish Kumar: That takes me back to listening to The Bugle in the toilet at one of my temp jobs.

Followed fairly soon after by:

Nish Kumar: “That Jesus Incident” was the working title of The New Testament, wasn’t it? Andy Zaltzman: I thought it was twelve fucks, one cunt. Nish Kumar: I’m back in the toilet! Andy Zaltzman: That is a long callback.

Note: this is a reference to Bugle episode 127, from September 2010.

Andy Zaltzman: It’s been awfully sweary The Bugle recently. I don’t know why that is. [Producer] Chris, any suggestions? Chris Skinner: Maybe you just need to listen to the words of the Pope. Andy Zaltzman: What did he say? “Don’t fucking swear?” Chris Skinner: Right, that’s now 12 “fucks” and 1 “cunt” today. Actually now I’ve said that that’s 13 -2. Andy Zaltzman: 12 fucks, 1 cunt. That’s pretty much the Jewish attitude to the new testament, isn’t it?

Well I'm at this, here's what the "Mickey Paintbrush" reference meant, from episode 34, in June 2008:

Andy Zaltzman: Bugle feature section now! And 500 years ago this year, Michelangelo, or as he was known by his friends, Mickey Paintbrush, was commissioned to do a little bit of decorating for the Pope. He got his nickname, of course, not because of his artistic skills, but because he had tough, bristly straight hair, which, when he was drunk he would dip in a vat of paint, and headbutt cartoon testicles into the sides of churches. Anyway, the story goes that Julius the Second asked Mickey Paintbrush, “Can you whack a lick of paint on the ceiling in my chapel? It could do with a bit of sprucing up.” “Sure, Papa J,” replied Michaelangelo. “What do you want? How about a bit of a fresco?” “Uh, sure, why not?” replied the pontiff. “Great!” yipped the young artist. “I was thinking of doing something with some dogs playing snooker.” “Uh, right, Mickey P,” said the Pope, awkwardly. “It’s just, uh, I was just kind of hoping for something a little bit more, kind of neutral. Maybe just, you know, some plain off white Magnolia colour. You know, Mick, something that isn’t going to go out of date.” “Right-o, Skipper,” replied Michaelangelo, a little downcast. “Hey, do you mind if I do a couple of little bits from The Bible in the corner?” “Oh, all right,” conceded the Pope. “But just, nothing too flashionable, Mickey.” “Yay!” yelped the 33-year-old 5-time winner of the Golden Chisel Award for Terrific Sculpture. “I’ll go and get my special scaffold.” Four years later, an angry pope banged on the door of the Sistine Chapel with his big staff. “Have you finished yet, Paintbrush?” he shouted. “Yep, all done, Big Man.” The pontiff stormed in, hat akimbo. “What the fuck have you done to my ceiling, you flash fuck?” “Sorry, Pop,” said the artist. “I just got a bit carried away.” “Oh, balls!” winced the Vatican Vicar. “Bloody hell, Mickey! What is your obsession with naked cocks? Shit, I’ve got a Christening to do in twenty minutes, this is going to have to do.” “Okay, boss. Sorry, boss,” mumbled the four-in-one painter, sculptor, architect, and chicken impersonator. “You haven’t heard the last of this!” blasted the Catholic kahuna. “Give me that paintbrush! That’s confiscated!" Pope Julius turned to go to his dressing room. Just then, something on the ceiling caught his eye. “Hang on, that looks like… no, it can’t be. Is that my wang? Mickey Paintbrush, have you painted my papal prong on that nudie man? Come here! Come here, you little… oh, no, he’s got away. I knew I should have got Da Vinci to do this. I knew it.” So, to commemorate half a millennium since this historic moment in the history of history, we present to you: The Bugle Italian section. John Oliver: …Andy, that to become a regular feature. Historical Storytime. Misinform your children with Andy Zaltzman.

So that was the opening, to this episode, already full of Nish and Andy doing callbacks at each other while Hari mentions again that not only was he not listening to the original John/Andy Bugle in toilets in 2013, but he doesn't listen to it today, or understand what anyone involved with it is doing.

They brought back discussions of The Bugle in general throughout the episode. There were multiple instances of Nish Kumar taking on the voice of all listening Bugle nerds by admiringly referring to something as "classic" or "vintage" Zaltzman. ie:

Andy Zaltzman: Huge celebrations across the country to commemerate one year of Rishi Sunak as Prime Minister. I'll just go through all the achievements of the little fella since he took over as Interm Prime Minister in the after-shite of Boris Johnson and Liz Truss. [two second pause] How would you assess his first year? A year in which he's basically captured voters' imagination like a baby penguin captures a polar bear in a pair of fishnet stockings. In other words, not at all, and he's gone about it in quite a weird and unsettling way."

Nish is right to call that vintage Zaltzman! I hate saying this because I don’t blame him at all for it, but to be honest, there was a while in the second half of 2022/early 2023 when it sounded like Andy was struggling a bit for material. He was repeating a lot of stuff (not that he never repeats stuff normally, but not as much as this), and some of his new stuff felt fairly by the numbers.

Like I said, I don’t blame him, because he’s been doing this forever. The Bugle has been running since October 2007, with the occasional week off, sometimes a month off in the summertime, about a year off in mid-2015 to mid-2016 when John Oliver split like an unreliable father, but mainly, it’s been running almost every week for years and years. And The Bugle isn’t like some podcasts where the guests and the host can just turn up and make shit up as they go along, or trade stock questions and stock answers. They have to write material beforehand and be ready to present. Andy shows up to every single episode with at least three or four completely new monologues on various topics, and a bunch of other prepared lines. It is fucking impressive, the rate at which he turns over material. He’s allowed to have an off month, or six. It wasn’t even that bad, just a little less inventive than usual. Also, we got a very reasonable explanation for why when he announced in early 2023 that his father had just died, so he maybe had a few other things on his mind besides writing new absurd similes every week (RIP Zack Zaltzman, I’ve always enjoyed Andy’s stories about how he could become a comedian because his dad was a sculptor and therefore had no grounds to tell his son to get a real job).

Anyway, the point is that Andy Zaltzman is back. He’s been on fire for the last few months, writing his usual inventive stories and lines every week (minus the month off the took in the summer where he didn’t write about anything but cricket), and they’ve been great. He had a few really good ones in this latest episode, and I liked hearing Nish acknowledge that. While Hari, of course, couldn’t give a shit.

All cumulating in this exchange from the end of a long discussion between Andy and Nish – where Hari notably shut up for an extended period – about the British political situation:

Hari Kondabolu: You guys are talking about British politics so I tuned out a while ago. You guys talking about that Colin Firth movie, is that what we’re talking about? That’s a while ago, fellas. Andy Zaltzman: Sunak did say that his government has achieved a lot in its first year. And I can cut him a bit of slack for that, because, I mean, what could he have said? I mean, he can’t come out and say, “My government has done very slightly less shit-ly.” He couldn’t have said, “Well we’ve achieved nothing, which is, to be fair, a vast improvement on my two immediate predecessors.” I mean, it’s clearly a tough gig for him, taking over, and I don’t think he’s played it very well. It’s like being a door-to-door hairdresser for a struggling door-to-door hairdressing business, but then turning up with one pair of scissors sticking out of your forehead, and then another rammed into your ear, blood running down your face, and a squirrel’s tail gaffer taped to your scalp, knocking on someone’s door, saying, “Can I interest you in a haircut?” It’s a tough sell. It’s like being a snooker player, tucked in behind the green, needing a three-cushion escape shot to hit the last red, fifty points down in the frame, so needing snookers anyway. He chalks the cue, he takes a deep breath. He reaches into his waistcoat pocket, he pulls out an iguana, plonks it on the table, and says, “Run, my pretty. Run.” That is, essentially, the situation that our Prime Minister has been in. Nish Kumar: That is the essence of Andy Zaltzman. Given that there is a substantial listenership to this podcast from outside the United Kingdom, and yet, when we move on to the section about specifics on United Kingdom politics, instead of trying to open it out, he doubles down, and tries to explain things with a snooker metaphor. [my brain is requiring me to add an editor’s note here – he means “simile”] Andy Zaltzman: I like to think of it as educational, Nish. Hari Kondabolu: I mean, to be honest, a bunch of our listeners are Anglophiles. They love this shit. It gives them like a secret wisdom, it makes them feel better than other people. I’ve met these people after shows, I know what they’re about. They like puns, Nish, they like puns.

...

...

...

...Go fuck yourself, Hari. You don't know me. How very dare you? I have no fucking idea what you're talking about.

I definitely didn’t love the idea that, when talking politics to my friends in 2009, I could reference British Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling, making me sound cultured and worldly while my friends only knew the Canadian and American politicians. Of course, I only knew about Alistair Darling because I listened to The News Quiz every Friday, a thing I did not because I was cultured or worldly, but because I was in love with Sandi Toksvig.

You will also notice that I tell this story about how I was (definitely not) like this as a teenager, because I think that sounds more acceptable than admitting I’m exactly the same now. The person I’m obsessed with enough to bring me to The News Quiz is now Andy Zaltzman, but not much else has changed.

So, there was more to this episode than just people replaying established patterns in amusing ways. Throughout the episode, all three people had a bunch of good material that walked a really, really difficult line of trying to write topical comedy when the top story in the news is related to ongoing genocide. I think they did it well, acknowledging that there are some parts of it that shouldn’t be trivialized with comedy but it’s still worth trying to pick it apart and point out the absurdities of the rhetoric. They did it as well as anyone could, I think. But I have chosen to ignore all that and write a multi-page post about how much I enjoy the recurring patterns in comedians' attitudes toward The Bugle and each other.

It's a good thing they have going. Never change, Andy. For the love of God, please never change.

[sunset-a-story]

A Few Find the Words in One

I've been tagged in a few of these the past couple of days so I'm going to take a page out of @winterandwords book and combine them.

My words @lexiklecksi: crazy, flower, comfort, accusation, deprivation @words-after-midnight: dream, break, poor, light, yearn(ing) @words-after-midnight redux: lend, tooth, early, heavy, intense.

I'm not doing all of these words because that is too much but I did more than half

Crazy

Alex did his best not to give him a you’re-crazy look. “Okay, then. I’m a psychometrist." "Cool." Lee nodded so casually that it took Alex by surprise. This really was just their normal around here. Lee made a face. "You must hate toilets." He laughed, doing his best to keep the volume down. "You have no idea."

Poor

Adler ran his finger down the wall. The concrete falling away from the brick was a brilliant cobalt blue. Floor, ceiling, walls, pillars, everything that hadn’t crumbled away was blue. He’d bought the dilapidated, nearly two-hundred-year-old paint factory years ago, on the cheap, but hadn’t gotten around to tearing it down and replacing it with something useful. It was hard to, the more he thought about it, though it was clearly in the process of tearing itself down. The history of the building spoke to him. No one had painted these walls blue. The rising dust from grinding cobalt day after day and year after year had tinted everything it touched, including the poor work animals that powered the mill. Beauty as a side effect of function.

Tooth

Reeve’s brow furrowed, “Yeah, I’ll want to go in so I can facilitate something quieter that’s less likely to raise suspicion.” Gareth snorted. Reeve glared at him. “What.” Gareth shook his head and pursed his lips. “Nothing, I’ve just never heard scrambling someone’s brains referred to in such fancy language.” “You get how stupid it is to be sarcastic at a telepath about telepathy right?” “I thought you weren’t supposed to be reading my thoughts.” She rolled her eyes at Gareth. “Dude, we all know what you’re thinking. Three-toothed Dan who runs the gas station knows what you’re thinking.”

Dream

They made their way through the squares at the center of the city and headed on to the Eastern outskirts. The gleaming resorts and church spires slowly gave way to narrow gravel roads and graffiti. Tangles of power lines crisscrossed above them like dreamcatchers. The brightly painted houses were clustered together and on top of each other like a child’s building blocks. There were stone walls on every street in various stages of collapsing into rubble and bars on every window.

Accusation

Austin laughed, head thrown back. “How the mighty have fallen, huh?” He sniffed. “Aw, fuck.” Rushing back to the stove, Austin moved the smoking pan off the heat and stared at it. “Banana pancakes,” he said neutrally somewhere between an explanation and an accusation.

Break

[Through his telepathy] Reeve could feel Gareth’s mind racing with a violent sense of restraint that felt like pulling a plane out of the sky with twine. He wanted to cut his knuckles on Reeve’s eye sockets. Just start breaking bones until there was an expression on his face. “Out,” Gareth said aloud, breathing quickly. He tightened his grip. Tangled up in Gareth’s sensations Reeve could feel his own collarbone creak under a hand that wasn’t his.

Heavy

Temple cleared her throat and said, “Air resistance is the only thing preventing water molecules from falling through space at such high speeds that they’d kill everything in their wake. Just air. You can’t see it unless particles are suspended in it. Smoke is just a poof of dust that makes the invisible visible. And even once you see it, what you can’t see is just how heavy it is. Air weighs enough to scare the living daylights out of you. Resistance and invisible, imperceptible, impossibly heavy weight. That’s it. That’s the thing--the most important thing--that keeps us as organisms alive.” She looked around the bar. “Where the fuck is the waiter?”

I'm leaving this an open tag so if you're in the mood, look for these words in your WIP: echo, forgot, tea, coast, hush

#writer tag game #find the word game #writeblr #writeblr community #find the word tag #find the word #my original content #wip excerpt #writers of tumblr

[reaperkiller]

the not-so-long awaited not-really sequel to this i did the other day

1.1k words, no warnings for anything really except jason being an absolute bastard, as per usual.

Radio turned up, windows rolled down, aircon on full blast - just the beginning of yet another painfully long day of travelling. Why did all these leads have to be miles apart from each other? Couldn’t Danny have made it easy, just picked a place, and stayed there? So they can all deal with their issues, and go home?

No.

Of course not, why would he? He was a scheming little bastard, and with Ruthie by his side, the two were practically unstoppable, unreadable. There was no way of knowing what their next move was, of being one step ahead. Putting it all in perspective, Jason and Marcus were at least ten miles behind at any given moment, and the distance was growing - fast. Maybe, if Jason hadn’t spent the last year stuck in the weird in-between of life and death, they’d have found him faster. But blaming himself was useless, there was nothing he could’ve done about it, definitely nothing Marcus could have done about it - he didn’t know Ruthie, he didn’t know what she was capable of. Her being tangled up in this whole debacle made it so much more complicated. 

Jason’s eyes are glued on the road, stomach churning away. They’d been driving for roughly two hours now, early start, completely missed breakfast. He was starving. Marcus, on the other hand, was focused on something else entirely. Gazing out the window, half-asleep, dreaming of something he’d be too embarrassed to admit. Jason. Of course it was Jason. They’d been stuck in each other’s company for the worse part of a month now, and, lately, he had been front and centre in most, if not all, of Marcus’ dreams. Can’t even escape from the bastard in his sleep. 

He’d be there, stupid little smirk on his face, hands gripping Marcus’ thighs, whispering his name. Marcus. They’d lean in closer, until their foreheads were touching. MARCUS. And then they’d-.

“Fuck, your ears fall off or somethin’?”

He’s jolted awake by Jason punching him in the arm, a lot harder than was probably necessary, but, hey, it worked. “Wha-. Huh? Wh-. Yeah. Hi. Hello, yeah, I’m awake I’m alive I’m not-. Yeah. Hi.” He blinks, shutting his eyes tightly, in an attempt to unblur his vision.

“Real deep in thought there, huh. Anything interesting?”

“Deep in-. Yeah. Yeah, I mean. No. Nothing interesting, just. Y’know. Stuff.”

“Sure, sure, okay.” And there was the stupid little smirk, as if he knew. Did he know? Did I say something? Shit. What did I do? SHIT. “You wanna get s-.”

“NO.” Marcus suddenly blurts out, eyes wide, almost throwing himself out of his seat. He takes a second to recollect himself, ease himself back into his own body. Jason flicks his eyes over to him for a second, bewildered. “Sorry, you were… You were saying?” Please, for the love of GOD, be normal. 

A confused silence falls on the two. Marcus white-knuckle grips his seatbelt. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted food, but if you’re that against it, then maybe-.”

“Food. Yeah. Food would be good.”

“Good. Fuckin’ starved. Could eat a whole. Uh, what’s the expression? Eat a whole guy. Or some shit.”

“Horse. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” “A horse? Who’s out here eatin’ a whole goddamn horse?”

“Who’s out here eating people?”

Jason laughs and turns to him, “Oh, you’d be surprised,” which is immediately followed by a wink and a subtle glance.

“What do you-.” A pause. A sudden realisation. “OOOOH. Oh, I see. I get it now.” Another realisation, one that only makes him all the more flustered. I need to kill this man. I could kill both of us right now. I could just take the wheel. I could do it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to-. No. I can’t do that. That’s-. We’ll be fine. I’m fine.

He laughs again and smiles. Making Marcus squirm was always the highlight of the day. And it was always so incredibly easy. But, in Jason’s mind, it was just because he was a prude, a few steps away from being a nun or something. The concept of Marcus feeling any sort of positive way about him was never once considered, which is why the overt flirting came so easy to him. 

“Aah, don’t worry about it, I’m not that hungry. Yet.”

He didn’t feel any sort of way about Marcus, either. So it was fine. This meant absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Definitely not. Well, maybe. I mean. He is kinda-. Fuck off. I’m not having this conversation with myself.

“You’re a dick, y’know?”

“Yeeeaaah, I’ve been told. Many times, actually.”

“No way, really?”

“You are what you eat.”

“... I could kill you right now. I could kill us both.” He couldn’t, but he so desperately wanted to reach for the wheel. Turn it. Send them both crashing into-. Damn it. There’s nothing to crash into. Road’s empty. We’re in the middle of nowhere. He knows this. Jason knows this.

“And how’re you gonna go about doing that?” Marcus simply folds his arms and glares at him, there’s nothing he can say in response to that. Not yet, anyway. “Poison? Romeo and Juliet style? Or, I dunno, the classic murder-suicide? … OOH, no, I know, maybe-.”

“Decapitation.” He says with a confidence he’d never had before, sounding as if he was actually going to do it, or at least strongly considering it. “Yeah. Decapitation. For you, anyway.”

“Funny you should say that, actually.” He sounds calm, but the memories quickly come flooding back, of that moment, the fear, the pain. The look in Eric’s eyes. Thinking he was about to die. Again. “Guy I know tried to-. Well, he didn’t go into it with the aim of slicin’ off my fuckin’ head, but he was close.” Too goddamn close.

“Don’t buy it. You’d at least have-.” Jason quickly pulls down the choker on his neck just a little, showing the thick scar left behind from when it was sliced open, surrounded by smaller scars that vaguely resemble letters. “Oh. Shit. That’s-.”

“Yeah. Was a real pain in the neck.” He jokes about it now, but part of him, a big part of him, wishes that Eric had actually succeeded - just ended it all right there. It would’ve been nice, no more pain, no more suffering. A bit of a shocking end, sure, but he felt like that’s what he deserved. But, then again, if that did kill him, then he’d never have gotten the chance to hunt Danny down, give him a taste of his own medicine. And Marcus would have lived out the rest of his life with a low-life cheat who probably didn’t even love him. And he deserved better than that, someone who would actually love him, appreciate him. Someone like-. Ah. SHIT.

#oc tag #THEYRE BOTH SO. STU[ID. SAUGHTRGHFGJH

[star-shard]

Relapse

BBC Sherlock Genre: angst Triggers: Drug use, alcohol mention

He didn’t want to get high. He didn’t want to get high. That’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t about that. He wasn’t trying to feel good. He just wanted to feel okay.

Sherlock had been four months clean. John thought he was two years clean but, John didn’t need to know details. Little mistakes didn’t need to be brought up. A stumble is different than a fall, Sherlock told himself that.

Tonight wasn’t a stumble. He planned it. Thoughts had become too much. Thoughts were good, thoughts moved cases. But then there were the thoughts that only moved him closer to a cliff’s edge.

He was alone now. Sunday night. John was at a group therapy session right now. Sherlock had suggested it. Hey, if John was going to be out of the house, may as well be for something good for him. Funny, what did he know about what was good for anyone.

This wasn’t a quick bump in the toilets when cases were slow. This was a needle of something that slowed him down.

He inhaled. He injected. He exhaled. Not only a week ago he told himself he’d make an active choice to tell others about danger nights. Yet, here he was. Not fighting his urges, letting them grab him into those familiar waters.

He didn’t want to float. He wanted to sink.

Sherlock dragged himself up from the floor, in the event that John got home early, he could at least look more normal on the couch. He told himself that. John couldn’t know. Because then John would stop him. Help him. God forbid.

He wanted to lite a cigarette more than anything, top off the high, sweat already pooled from the anxiety of the night.

His thoughts had been racing. That was the issue. Faster than he could keep up with. Most people saw him and his thoughts to be the same, but that wasn’t true. His thoughts were the train. He was the race horse, trying to keep up with the brain he hadn’t asked for.

No smoking. John would smell it, then one conclusion would lead to another. As Sherlock started feeling what he wanted, he decided to settle.

Everything was okay.

He hadn’t even realized his back had been in a bind until it released. He hadn’t noticed his brow had been pressed until it let go. All the while, ‘you’re killing yourself again’, in the tone of John’s voice was present in his head.

Yes. Murder, or suicide? That was the question. Was he killing the worst parts of himself, or was it a package deal. He laughed at the thought. Perhaps he could solve his own case. “Who killed Sherlock Holmes,” He asked.

Sherlock didn’t used to feel guilty about his addiction. Rewind six years back, he didn’t believe he was capable of being a self pitying addict. That he simply operated on a level where some recreational assistance could be used. John brought self awareness. “If boats didn’t have anchors, they’d just fly,” Sherlock said absentmindedly. He didn’t need a cigarette, there was enough shit burning already. “It is lonely in the void space for a floating boat…”

The door. It opened.

Fuck. John.

“Fuck, John,” Sherlock found himself saying. He sat up. As well as he could. “Fuck, hello, they’re interchangeable aren’t they?” Sherlock knew he sounded different, but he prided himself as passing for sober, so hopefully It would pass now as wit rather than stupidity.

John laughed. Thank god. “Happens to be best of us, usually with a telemarketer.” Sherlock’s eyes spilled over John, picking up what he could. Crooked back, disappointment, stain on the shirt, got a snack, needed comfort, hairline was…. was… Sherlock smiled. Hard to stoke the fires of the old locomotive when the race horse was in charge.

“I knew you’d hate group. You hate people in groups.”

John took off his jacket, not chuckling now. “Let’s get a dog then. I can handle that.”

Oh, he was in a mood. Good. John was focused on himself, so he wouldn’t notice Sherlock. The needle was hidden, and Sherlock would dispose of it later. “Go on then, blog. The best people in our lives are invisible.” While he was sure he was keeping this up quite well, even he knew he couldn’t mask for a full blown therapy chat.

John made a face. Hello. Fuck. He said the wrong thing again. Sherlock smiled at his own fuck up. Or maybe that was the drugs. “And anyway, I can't supply entertainment. I’m married to this couch, don’t tell my work about the affair,” he mused, apologizing wasn’t an option, that could lead to a discussion, he wasn’t capable of that. He needed John away from him right now. Let him be annoyed. Sherlock could charm him back to his side later.

Woof, that hurt all of a sudden in his chest. He used to manipulate Mycroft all the time when he first became addicted. Why did it hurt now.

John sighed. That heavy sigh he did. “Never mind the dog, a live in couples therapist.” And quickly adding, “if there’re any hidden cameras, that was a joke. No article needed about how we’re together.”

Sherlock smiled something crooked. That was the most interesting ‘no homo’ yet. Oh John. Oh…. John. His anchor. Sherlock was in space. And all he wanted to do, was go further. To not see stars, just blackness. The void. He craved it. Even if a part of him screamed to admit how bad he had actually had gotten to John.

But, who would further wound a veteran already in pain.

One day maybe. Mix some alcohol into it, get a truly grand confession, a show stopper. Rock bottom, that was the ticket, wasn’t it?

John smiled because Sherlock smiled. At how ridiculous therapy could be while also needing it so badly.

Back on his side. That was good. “Groups are for the birds. I prefer duos,” Sherlock said to him. “…You’re actually going to blog about this, aren’t you.”

“Adventures in stale coffee and guilt, doesn’t have that ring.” John was funny. Sherlock wondered why he never complimented him on that. John was in the kitchen now, getting a beer. It would only be one. Sherlock knew that very well, tracked his self medication system, by the end of that shame would kick in due to his sister and he’d stop at one on a night like this.

He knew a lot about John. That he also kept a private diary on his computer. It was the one thing Sherlock chose not to investigate. He’d read John’s mail, mushy love letters, hilarious attempts at poetry. But never the unlabeled file on his computer.

Sherlock was fading fast right now. ‘Go away John. Go away.’ He wanted to say that. Silence. It was the best way for him to be left alone. John so adored to engage with him. So he allowed the silence to hang, to stain the moment.

The sound of traffic happened outside. The sound of Mrs. Hudson’s music a floor below hummed. The sound of a few swigs from the beer that was already back in the fridge now. So John was deeply ashamed tonight, for whatever therapy had dug up and/or buried. Sherlock lacked the capacity to fix that in the best of times, he lacked a lot right now.

“Enjoy the palace, let me know if you add a pool house to it,” John mumbled. Fuck, had Sherlock fucked up again. There was something in that tone, or maybe the way he walked away. Or maybe it was pure paranoia because he was fucking high right now.

At least Sherlock was alone at last.

Alone without himself. That was the point of substances, wasn’t it.

He did fall asleep there. And he’d forget the conversation he had with John. One of the few times he could forget something he cared about.

#bbc sherlock #angst #fanfic

[lukamoonvibe]

Chapter Ten: The Space Cadets Of Chaos [Next Gen AU 1]

Chapter Index

Summary: 

Medalling with time has a consequence, the consequence of his choice is to be a slave to it until Fate decides he's no fun anymore or he escapes...but does he really want to escape anymore? It's been so long, what would even be the point of going back anymore? Would anyone still remember him? Probably not. No one escapes Fate and lives to tell the tale. Not even a traveller of time.

Fandoms: Crewniverse, Crewfu/Morning Lobby, Chaos Crew/Derp Crew

Characters: Anthony | ChilledChaos, Max Gamble | APlatypuss, Steven | ZeRoyalViking , Taylor | TayderTot, Zach | CheesyBlueNips, Lucas | KYRSP33DY, Apollo Willems | Dumdog, Albi | SideArms4Reason, Skadj, Steven Suptic, 5up, Madi | Kruzadar, Shelby Grace | Shubble [Updated as I add more]

Rating: Mature

Status: On Going

“Ze?” he turned to face his friend.

Ze had his arms crossed, his brows knitted together, “Yes, Chilled, me. Who else would come and see you? I can assure you not the Eclipse, that’s for sure.” 

Chilled opened his mouth to say something, but Ze kept going, starting to pace in front of him.

“They’ve spent months saving everyone, our kids. And all for what?”

“Kids? Sorry ‘our kids’?” he tried to interject, but Ze clearly didn’t hear him.

“You to lead them on a wild goose chase, leaving clues here, there and everywhere. Then you’re just suddenly here, on the ship, with no explanation. Did you really expect them to take it lightly? That they’d come in here, see you and be happy? You played them.”

Chilled slowly moved across the room to stand in Ze’s path, stopping the man from pacing, “Ze, listen to me. I know you’re mad; it wouldn’t surprise me if I’ve done something to piss off others as well. I’ve probably made worse mistakes. But I have no idea what you’re talking about. Our kids? I don’t have any kids. Our implies we’re a couple; when did that happen? Where are we? And what did you mean by ship? What about Jess and me? You moved on, remember, we moved past that… it's nothing more than a bit.”

Ze stared blankly at him, a mirage of emotions crossing his eyes; he let out a sigh, reached for his side, pulled something out of his belt, and in one swift movement, a blade was held against his throat.

“I knew my Chilled wouldn’t be that fucking cocky imposter,” Ze spat.

Chilled raised his hands, “Yes. I guess you could call me an imposter if it makes this easier. But seriously, we’re not going to go anywhere unless you explain what you’re talking about, I don’t belong here, and the fastest way for me to get back to where I belong is for me to do what Fate wants me to do here. If I do, you’ll have your Chilled back.”

“I don’t believe you; you could be one of those things that had the others trapped here to farm information out of me.”

Chilled sighed, keeping his eye on the blade, “I promise you I’m not whatever had your friends trapped, I know my word doesn’t mean much, but you’re going to have to take it because if you kill me now, neither of us get what we want.”

Ze shook his head and lowered his blade, “What is going on with you, Anthony?”

“I made a really stupid decision that cost me everything I held dear; now I’m trying to figure out what I have to do here to get me to the one person who can let me go home and fix my mistake,” he avoided Ze’s eyes.

“Okay…if we’re going to sell this to the twins, there are a few things you’ll have to know. I swear if you turn out to be one of those things masquerading as my partner, I will not hesitate to kill you in front of everyone here.” He found Ze’s rambling endearing.

“First, don’t mention Jess in front of anyone; she was a fling you had early on in your training. Eclipse is her birth daughter, but we never told anyone that, not even Platy and Taryn. We raised her and Luka with them, knowing we were their parents. We’ve been married since they were young. We were on a mission five years ago that went wrong; you were our leader. Train trained our kids to come and save us, you lead them to the others by leaving notes, audio messages, making your presence in general known, then before we went to save Brood, you boarded the ship unnoticed, and now we’re here, back at the facility. Did you get that?” 

Chilled shrugged, “Mostly, I guess we should probably go find them so I can apologise then, right?” 

Ze nodded, “I’ll go through it on the way to where they will be; Toast just messaged me to let me know Luka is in the office; he probably assumed you’d want to talk to them. Eclipse is never far behind him,” he said grabbing Chilled’s hand, leading him out the door.

What he assumed was some landing space turned out to be a medical area. The whole place looked like it was straight out of a sci-fi novel.

Ze led him through a series of hallways; they passed a few rooms that had faces he recognised with faces he didn’t; they all looked happy and relieved. Maybe they’re like who Ze taking me to see? Kids are relieved to see their parents, and parents are so glad that their kids are okay .

“Okay, see that door up ahead; that’s where we’re going. You need to sound convincing, so try your best not to slip up.” Ze murmured, looking down at his watch again.

Chilled nodded, “They’re pretty pissed at me, aren’t they?” he said confidently, loud enough that it’d be heard through the door.

Ze stopped for a second, shooting him a look, “I’m still pretty pissed. You avoided them, left the letters, for crying out loud, and every time you vanished, it hurt them. It hurt me.”

Chilled smirked, crossing his arms; we’re not so different, no matter what dimension we come from, if only you knew Ze.

“So you go in there, apologise and listen if they have anything to say. If they tell you to leave, you fucking leave. Understand?” Ze hissed, giving him a nod; he turned on his heel.

Chilled stared after him; drawing in a breath, he reached for the button opening the door. In front of him stood two kids. Kids, I can’t believe they’re willingly sending kids into space. They should be at school. Worrying about homework and stupid schoolyard drama…not saving people, and fighting whatever Ze thought I was.

“Hey, you two,” they tensed up, and the girl grabbed the boy's hand; he took a few steps inside the room, the door closing behind him.

#chaos crew #crewniverse #crewfu #derp crew #morning lobby #archive of our own #cross posted #fan fiction #time travel #dimension hopping #asexual character #plantonic soulmates #i regret nothing #aromantic character

[aetheternity]

My wifey, my best friend

Synopsis: Draken knew two things in his life for sure. One, that his best friend was a virgin and two, that he had a thing for his best girl. So he decides to kill two birds with one stone. 

Disclaimer: Fem reader, Unprotected sex, kinda not really a threesome, Oral sex (m recieving), and voyeurism are all present in this. (Minors dni) 

It wasn’t hard to see. Draken’s girl had always been a sight for every man’s eyes. Even before they’d gotten together. She got attention for the way she presented herself, her face, her body and overall just how chill of a person she was. Because while she looked mean (and honestly she could be at times). She was always ready to defend anyone in her squad. 

And very often that meant Mikey. Which Draken had always been thankful for seeing as once he had the help he didn’t know how he’d done it by himself for so long. But he didn’t miss how much quicker his girlfriend got violent when it came to Mikey and vise versa. Didn't miss the prolonged smiling between them or the way they were somehow always touching.

Didn’t matter how much she’d deny it when he’d call her out. Her eye roll adorable despite the clear deception behind her words. The flush of her cheeks, dilated pupils and nervous laughter all giving her away. She wasn’t just into Draken.

She was into Mikey too. She just didn’t seem to see what he saw.  

At first it had been a bit of a sore subject filling his brain. His girl and his friend had the same feelings for each other? Well he knew you wouldn’t cheat on him, you’d always been such a sappy romantic. Crying over love stories you’d read online and forcing him to watch movies that were far too long for just a stupid kiss at the end. 

And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Mikey wasn’t a concern. But every time he saw you two together it seemed as though you’d gotten even closer than the last time. Which eventually became the basis for a plan. 

“Hey.” Draken’s braid hung down the back of your couch as he called to you where you stood in the kitchen filling a big bowl with an assortment of chips and popcorn. 

“Hey.” You mimic his deep voice with a giggle coming over and setting the bowl in his lap. 

“Did you have fun with Mikey today?” He asked pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 

“Yup. Me, Mikey, and Emma had a lovely day out today.” You tossed a kernel of popcorn into your mouth with a snicker. 

“Don’t be like that. You know I’m not asking because I'm jealous.” His hair tickled the side of your face as he leaned in closer brushing stray strands of hair back from your cheeks. 

“No no, I know Ken Ken.” 

His breath flushed over your cheeks and nose when you met his eyes. You brushed your fingertips up the side of his head to trace his tattoo. His hands meeting your waist, fingers threading over the small of your back while he kissed you. And you returned the affection with every bit of eagerness that flooded your body. 

“What do you have going on Saturday?” He asked as he pulled away 

Your smile was warm, eyes practically twinkling as you said, “I don’t know whatever you’re doing I guess.” 

“You, me, Mikey, Mario Kart.” He suggests 

“That sounds so fun.” You place a kernel of popcorn on his tongue before turning to flip on the movie pulled up on the DVD player. 

“What is this?” Draken grumbled over the snack in his mouth. His demeanor quickly shifting. 

“I told you I was finally gonna show you The Notebook tonight.” You replied and Draken resisted his urge to groan as you cuddled up to his side fishing a couple chips out of the bowl still in his lap.

~~~~

Saturday morning Draken had arrived at your house at eleven am. He’d set everything up. You thought Mikey was coming at one but Draken had told him eleven knowing that he probably wouldn’t actually get there till twelve.

He’d helped you carry the bulky consoles and teased you all morning just so he could get you here. Right now at 11:45 am, your ass pressed between his bare thighs, socked feet tickling his bare knees, with your panties hanging off one foot as you worked your body up and down his length. The steady claps of your skin meeting creating a beautiful noise that bounced off the drab paint job in your living room. 

His name left your lips with a chorus of pleas. Pleas for his attention to your clit. Pleas for his thrusts to be harder. All greedy and messy while you gripped his shoulders tight for some form of stability. 

“Come on Darling, you can do it.” He replies thickly, the fingers he has sinking into the smooth flesh of your back hurt but the tighter it gets the more he’s enjoying it. “You’re doing so well.” He groans 

He slips a hand under your tee shirt looking for a better angle. His thighs spread and just for a couple seconds he indulges his good girl a little more. Feeds into your anxious cries as you whine about needing your orgasm so bad. Cock brushing against your cervix while you greedily weep for more.  

“Take it then.” He tells you breathily, head tilted back to show off the bob of his adam’s apple. His groans a little deeper as you work him up so close. Cunt squeezing so perfectly around him. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead from the accumulation of sweat. “I want you to make yourself cum, Darling.” 

Your fingers twist into his shirt at every slam of his hips. Wandering hands drifting up to cup your breasts through your bra before coming back down to your hips.

You clearly can’t hear it. Too lost in bliss but the subtle click of the door opening and closing isn’t lost on Draken at all. He never stops feeding you his cock though. Not as the taps of footsteps get louder, not as the pounding in his chest gets a little harder and not even when Mikey is standing right in front of the two of you. 

“Name, Ken ch-” 

Mikey freezes and your eyes fly open thrashing around to grab the blanket at the end of the couch to cover your lower half. “Oh my god Mikey!” Mikey stays quiet though his eyes grow dark, lips parted as he stares at the two of you. “Mikey, I thought you weren’t coming till one..” You huff, hand over your forehead and eyelids as you clutch the blanket a little tighter with one hand. 

“Are you saying you’re upset that he’s here early?” Two sets of eyes fall on Draken. He has yet to let go of your hips as you sit in his lap still fully seated on his dick with his best friend standing only a couple feet away. 

“Not this again Ken..” Your words drift away as the palm of his thumb slips beneath the blanket to slide smoothly over your swollen clit. Surprisingly Mikey doesn’t make a move to leave. Feet seemingly stuck in their current position. 

He leans toward your ear though it's still loud enough for Mikey to hear. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t squeeze my cock when Mikey walked in? Are you saying you don't like his eyes on you while I make you a mess?” 

“Wha.. Ke-” A breathy gasp leaves your lips. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mikey finally finds his voice though it lacks the malice he usual manages to possess. 

"You might as well stay while we finish. She's almost done."

Draken spreads your thighs with one arm pulling one of your ankles up till it’s resting partially against his shoulder and partially against the back of the couch. Slowly but surely the blanket begins to slip off your lower half exposing you slightly to Mikey. With your other leg resting against his; he thrust into you so deep that it creates a noticeable bulge in your stomach for just a split second.

A couple whimpers flutter off your lips and you try to slightly steady yourself as Draken guides his length into you without even the slightest hesitation. The couch shudders with loud creaks as if it's protesting the rough pace Draken has set never taking his eyes off a still shocked Mikey.

"Have you ever thought of fucking her like this?" Draken asks his voice husky and thick over your moans.

You're almost unabashed in the way you look over to Mikey with tears welling against the corners of your eyes. Thigh tensing with every rough pound of Draken's hips.

"K-ken.." You try only to gasp. It makes Mikey's hand fly to his tee shirt trying his best to cover what was so obviously growing right before you and Draken's eyes.

"I want to watch as Mikey fucks you." Draken finally admits. "Would you want that darling? Want Mikey to pound your pretty pussy like I always do?"

"Mm close.." You cry, lips trembling and wet as you throw your head back. Your fingers twist in Draken's shirt, leg twitching awkwardly by his head.

Mikey's lips hang open. His breathing raspy as your whole body tremors. You lean forward in Draken's grasp pushing him even deeper inside you as you cry over and over, "M' cumming K-ken.."

Draken lets his head fall back against the couch as you milk him while you're trapped in your own euphoria. His dick twitching through the intense groans you pull from his chest. When he's finished he places a gentle hand on your stomach.

"Will you take care of Mikey now?" He lifts your body off of him, placing you next to him.

"You want me to fuck your girlfriend? Have you lost it?" Mikey asks, cheeks stained a bright pink.

"Yeah, I'm giving you permission to show, Name a good time while I watch."

Mikey looks over to you. Slowly but surely you extend your hand to him looking at Draken for any bit of hesitation on his part. He hesitants and then his sandals are clicking against the hardwood as Draken motions for him to get between your legs. Mikey's eyes wide with attention as he stares down at you, hands stiff at his sides.

You look to Draken again who's pulled off his shirt by this point; laying back against the couch to rub his softened cock back to life. "Kiss him." Draken nods to Mikey who's basically stone at this point.

"C-can I?" You sit up pressing your hands to his cheeks immediately delighted by the strands of hair delicately brushing against the knuckles of your fingers.

When you lean into him, he presses forward. Hands reaching for the back of the couch for support. His lips are cold. Not at all what you'd thought they'd be. Hesitant, a little shaky and over all cute.

You couldn't help but trace the shape with your tongue. They were smaller than Draken's that part was obvious and more gentle too as though he was scared he could hurt you from just a small kiss. When you pushed him a little further coaxing his lips apart he conceded for you. With a heavy breath he slid one hand down to your face, Adam's apple bobbing where you could see it through your peripherals.

When your tongue slid into his mouth he took a deep breath cautious as you prodded forward with your tongue. And just as soon you were pulling away.

Draken added pressure to his tip with his thumb before sliding his hand back down his shaft in a smooth motion. "Take her shirt off." He instructed

Not only were Mikey's lips cold but his fingertips were also slightly cold as they slipped under your shirt with shaky hands. When you reached for Mikey's shirt Draken tsked,

"Be careful with him. He's still a virgin."

Mikey gritted his teeth in Draken's direction but ultimately said nothing. Weirdly enough that information broke the tension still present in your shoulders.

"Aw Mikey that's ok." He raised his arms as you slipped his dark blue shirt over his elbows, allowing it to join your already discarded clothes in the growing pile.

Though a part of you was slightly curious about whether or not it was by his own choice. With a bit more confidence now you slid your back up the couch a bit pulling Mikey in by the hem of his shorts. Without a second thought you reached behind your back to discard your bra bringing Mikey's free hands up to massage your breasts.

The little gasp he let out was so endearing, eyes clouded with tenderness and lust. Draken snickered at his end of the couch, "How's it feel to touch boobs for the first time?"

"Shut up." Mikey grunted

With your guidance he gingerly twisted and pulled at your taut nipples earning a sweet gasp as a reward. Meanwhile your hands curved up and down his physique, enamored by the touch his abs had just beneath your finger tips. So rough yet smooth and soft as they expanded and contracted for each of his breaths.

Not wanting to waste a second more you gestured to the band of Mikey's shorts, "Is this ok?" And once he nodded you pulled the string loose letting them fall to the ground with his boxers soon following.

Unsurprisingly he was smaller than Draken but he was thicker than you'd imagined. Pretty in both size and color with a much more rounded tip than Draken.

You looked up to Mikey's face. His attention elsewhere as you wrapped a warm hand around the base of his cock. "It's so pretty." You mumbled with a giggle when that gorgeous pink took full color against his cheeks. "I want to put it in my mouth. Can I?"

The bob of Mikey's Adam's apple didn't go unnoticed by you. The way sweat was already starting to appear on his forehead making you smile as he silently moved his hips closer to your mouth.

The hiss that slipped past his lips when you pressed your tongue to his tip and circled it gathering the precum sliding down was precious. And it dawned on you as if you hadn't remembered before that this was Mikey's first blow job.

The famous Mikey was getting his first right here and now. It pushed you further, you left wet open mouthed kisses all over his shaft before letting every sweet inch of him into your mouth. Delicately and steadily over his shaft till you were kissing his pelvic bone.

Never in all the years you had known Mikey had you ever seen him be so cute. His mouth was open for every panting breath he could muster trying and failing to catch his breath. His cheeks an even deeper pink than before and his eyes shut impossibly tight.

He reached out for the back of the sofa as you slowly pulled your mouth back before edging him all the way down your throat again.

"Oh God.." He choked out

Draken's laugh was boisterous the hand that was on his cock now slapped over his mouth as he tried to contain himself. "Darling you can't see from this angle but his face is perfect." He grins

You know it's bad when the only response Mikey gives to this is a loud gasp. His nails digging into the cushions behind you with a heavy grunt.

Draken leaned forward twisting his fingers into your hair gently to guide your head back and forth a little faster. "You look gorgeous, keep going."

Mikey's whimpers fill your ears and spit trickles over your lips. Your tongue swirling over the prominent veins at the base of his cock as you work him up with just your mouth. Curses flying off his lips at an exponentially higher rate.

"Doesn't she have such an amazing mouth?" Draken groaned hand resuming its earlier work.

Mikey could only hum lost in bliss with each thrust of his hips. He managed to angle himself deeper down your throat, reaching out to card strands of your hair back as well as he pushes his cock as far as it could go.

"Shit.. sh-it I think I'm gonna.."

Draken pulled your lips off surprisingly harshly. Fingers still deep in your hair as he guided your thighs open for Mikey. Cum from Draken's earlier orgasm still stained your thighs as Draken pushed Mikey forward by the small of his back.

The angle was kind of weird, especially for a first time but it did help Mikey align better and slowly but surely he was pushing inside. The fill of his cock pressing inside of you left you feeling a bit dazed and your eyes fluttered close. Nails finding purchase on his shoulder blades.

His forehead soon met yours, hitched breaths from his lips flush against your face. "Shit.." He heaved almost breathless.

"Yeah she'll do that to you." Draken grinned. You couldn't tell if it was your heartbeat or his pounding in your ear but you soon regained enough consciousness to wrap your legs around his waist.

"You ok?" He asked, eyelids fluttering open.

"Yeah. Feels good." You reply with a concentrated breath.

Mikey's hand slammed down against the couch cushion as he slowly began to move sucked in by your warm cunt. Every inch of his dick snug inside you. In a way that was so different from the earlier feeling of your mouth.

"Mikey.." You huffed trying not to lose it completely whenever he bottomed out. He wasn't long enough to touch your cervix but every inch of him was so obviously present inside you. Grazing your walls like they were built just for his cock.

"Angle your hips to the right a little." You could hear Draken's voice. All deep and husky like it always got when he was in the mood.

Mikey did as he was told, adjusting his hips till his dick perfectly pressed into your g-spot. You couldn't help it now your head falling back and your thighs shaking when he thrusted right into that spot.

"God.. f-uck.." Mikey grunted

"You're doing so well.." You mewled brushing his blond hair back where it was starting to stick to his face. "It feels.. s'good.."

Your thighs tensed as he started to speed up a tremble setting in his shoulders. You already knew what that meant. Bringing a hand under his chin to pull his lips into yours. The sounds of both Mikey and Draken settling in your ears as you felt the beginnings of the coil tightening in your stomach.

"Mm gonna cum.." Mikey moaned

The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you had you gripping him like a lifeline and he did the same. His arms wrapped around your waist as he emptied himself inside your fluttering walls.

"Oh God.." You sighed

His body continued to tremble, eyes far gone as you held his face to look at him. "You ok?" You giggled, still attempting to catch your breath.

"Draken was right about your pussy." Mikey grins

"Oh my God you told the guys?!" You pick up a pillow next to you chucking it at your boyfriend.

"I only told Mikey that part." Draken replies catching the flying projectile. "Hurry up and finish. This shits getting painful."

"Finish?" You're cut off by Mikey slowly pressing all the way back inside you. "You didn't get to cum." He whispers into your ear. His knee slides onto the couch next to you, guiding your hips against his cock.

Your head banging against the cushions behind you with each of his rough thrusts. Breaths short where they're falling off your lips. You don't miss the way Mikey's eyes clench shut, the way his teeth ungrit trying and failing to keep his noises quiet.

Your once messy and now unruly and missmanaged hair slips from the tie you'd once used to hold it. Strands falling over your face and into your eyes and collecting with the sweat present on every inch of your face.

Draken's groan came from the pits of his throat as he squeezed the tip of his cock in his fist. "I'm gonna cum." He warned, warmth spread through your stomach as you watched the tensing of his body soon followed by his thick cum shooting up only to return to earth. Coating his fists in liquid.

His dark eyes shut as he breathed through his orgasm with a deep sigh.

You cursed under your breath issuing your own word of warning as your thighs clenched around Mikey's waist. "Don't stop.." You pleaded, hands heavy on Mikey's shoulders as you pulled his body closer.

"I won't."

The coil in your stomach soon settled as your release coated Mikey's pelvic region slicking his cock as you cried out. A sense of familiarity soon falling over you as you watched the same build of intensity forming in Mikey.

The roll of Mikey's eyes utterly intoxicating as his hips stuttered forward with a breathy moan for the first bit of his orgasm. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his own hair a complete mess as he released deep inside of you completely losing control of his hips.

"Fuck Mikey.."

Mikey finally pulled out leaving his cum to ooze out of your used pussy as Draken stood from the end of the couch, heading for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" You asked

"We need chips right? For Mario kart?" Draken called

"Yay we're still playing!" Mikey bounces like he's not still completely naked and didn't just finish fucking you.

"Of course we're still playing. That was the whole point of today." Draken replies

"You don't want to shower first?" You gesture to his cum covered chest and thighs.

"Like all together?" Mikey asks

"Nevermind let's just play."

#tokyo revengers smut #mikey x reader smut #draken x reader smut #draken smut #mikey smut #draken x reader x mikey

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie��s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

#bts au #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts scenarios #taehyung fanfic #bts mafia au #yandere bts #bts yandere #bts poly!au #bts polyamory #poly bts #bts poly #bts drabble #bts ot7 x reader #jin fanfic #namjoon mafia au #yandere yoongi #yoongi angst #taehyung x reader #jungkook drabble #jimin au #hobi au

[dreamingofaizawa]

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

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It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

#sero hanta #sero hanta mha #sero hanta bnha #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x fem reader #sero hanta smut #hanta sero #hanta sero mha #hanta sero bnha #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero x fem reader #hanta sero smut #omegaverse #tw: a/b/o