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dollwrites · 7 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanny!reader, married!toji ( rich toji too lmao hot take ), age gap, noncon, dacryphilia, virginity loss, heavy breeding kink, bondage, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸��𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-two [ toji fushiguro + breeding ]

you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut. you should’ve bit the bullet and swallowed your pride when Toji said he couldn’t pay you any earlier than Friday for babysitting the kids. no, couldn’t had not been his word of choice. he wouldn’t pay you before Friday. Toji was loaded with cash. you’d never bothered to ask him how he made his living, but you knew that he had plenty and his massive mansion would not be snatched up by the bank if the prick gave you your well earned three hundred and twenty dollars on a Wednesday instead of a Friday.

and you’d told him so.

which had landed you in the position you’re in now.

on a few occasions, Toji or his wife had asked you to tidy up around the house and that included their bedroom. the room was massive and luxurious, with a king size bed in the center of the room. you’d seen plenty of oddities in there— handcuffs here, a flogger there, vibrators in the drawers and even a black, pleather bench with seatbelt-like straps hanging off it in the corner— but you never thought, in all the time you’ve worked for them, that you’d find yourself on your back in nothing but your bra and panties ( which were both pulled askew to expose your breasts and give him access to your core ) against the mattress, with thick, black straps on your ankles that bind them to a long, silver bar. your legs are spread wide for Toji, he has also fastened similar cuffs to each of your wrists to separate notches on the pole. his fist is wrapped around the center of the metal, gripping it tight. he seems to use it as a lever, pulling your entire body to his.

the tears are far from dried on your cheeks, though the majority of the pain from the initial insertion has dissipated, Toji is none too gentle as he ruts into you. your walls flutter about the girth of his manhood as it stretches you to a capacity you’ve never felt before. he was so big, much too big for him to have been your first, and you felt like he was ripping you apart, especially because he had no regard for how deep he was delving into you— each thrust of his hips sent him hilt-deep into a newly devirginized interior. because of this, your face remained twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes wide with shock.

Toji chuckles through grit teeth, “What’s with the crocodile tears, slut? Wasn’t expecting I’d pop your cherry? Daddy’s cock too big for that itty, bitty belly of yours?” his dark pair coruscate in the dim lighting as his gaze travels over your stomach, pressing his free palm against the lump just below your navel, the size and shape of his cock. you mewl, head rolling about on the mattress, and your teeth sink into your lower lip; the pressure adds to the sensation of being stuffed full. “Ooh, listen to you whine for me,” he croons with faux sympathy, poking out his lower lip. “I’ll bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you? But, I gotta tell you, baby girl, daddy’s made more girls cry than just you. You really think those little sniffles are gonna work on me? Make me go easier on you?”

his hips grind into yours as he digs as deep as possible without his thick tip bursting through your belly button ( or, at least, that’s what it feels like ), and you cry out, back arching. your fingernails claw at the restraints, arms tensed unable to do much but sting.

“Ah!” it’s more a bestial growl than a sound of pleasure you’d expect anyone to make, his eyes fiery with even more desire at your wriggling. “See, feel that? How your pussy tremors when she’s gripping my cock? You can glare up at me with those cute, puffy eyes and your makeup streaked down your cheeks, but I can tell by the way that little pussy hugs me that you don’t want it gentle. You don’t want me to be nice. You want to be fucked into submission, and daddy’s more than willing to break that bad fuckin’ habit of talking back to me with my cock.”

it was almost impossible to formulate a coherent sentence, batting tears back, but they fall anyways, squirming as if to escape the cocktail of pleasure and pain, and you turn away from him, angling your countenance towards the wall instead. “W—what— what if I t-told your, ah! Your wife about this—“

the most wicked of grins contorts Toji’s lips, and he reaches through the bar and between your arms to grip your face, turning it back to force you to look up at him. “You think she doesn’t know, girl? I’ve only been planning to breed your little body since you started working for us. I just needed a good excuse to break you in, thanks for that.” he pauses, to groan and close his eyes, pace picking up as his hips begin to buck more erratically. “She thinks you’ll make a better baby factory than she ever could, and she’s more than willing to let me keep you here and fuckin’ ruin you until the only thing you want is for me to swell that little tummy with my bastards—“ even as your whimpering escalated into screams, you can hear him. your eyes close, head wanting to angle away from his grip, his palm makes contact with your cheek in a couple, quick slaps. “You can get used to being my little breed-whore, sweet girl. And don’t you worry, you’re gonna get a nice raise every time I knock you up; as long as you learn that your place is wrapped around daddy’s cock, and that pussy is for him to fill with his loads, you’re gonna be a fine new addition to this family.”

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 19 days

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You'll Find Me Resting Among The Restless... (Sinners Prayer)

Mafia!Stucky x POC Escort!Reader “Sin”

Wordcount: 5325

Summary:

Not all girls are made of sugar spice and everything nice. Some girls are made of art, lust and misplaced trust. The most loving thing you can do for a man, is to teach him to swallow his own poison.

Warnings:

Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Betrayal, Infidelity, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Texting, Punishment, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Sex, Tease, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Female Character of Color

Notes:

This story just attacked me and would not let up until I got it out of my system. It's angsty but with a happy/hopeful ending because I'm a sucker for a resolution. Italics are thoughts Photos used do not represent any particular reader features, they are used for reference only. Happy Reading!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

They messed up badly this time. Not only had they fallen for you. They didn't realize it until you were gone. Throwing every “gift” back in their faces and moving out of the penthouse they liked to keep you in. You also went back to some of your old clients. One of which was a particular couple that they were very close to, in business and personally.

All because Steve let his bitch of an ex Sharon get under his skin and in a lapse of judgement and a whole lot of whiskey he not only fucked her but let you find them together on the couch naked and passed out the morning after. He had the nerve to get pissy with you for just showing up at their place. When he was the one that set up the breakfast date the week prior.

Asshole.

Poor Bucky, he didn't even do anything and yet because he and his boyfriend are a package deal he got left as well.

You told him you’d never get between them. That you wouldn't hurt either of them by picking one over the other. If things came to that, you’d just leave them both. They weren’t the only ones who went and fell in love. With tears filling your eyes, begging to be set free, you turned towards the Steel Gray eyes full anguish beside you.

“I can handle a broken heart Buck. It’s not the first time someone thought that because of my profession and being non monogamous that you can't ACTUALLY cheat on me. I’m going to miss you something fierce though.” You step closer for just a moment and caress his cheek.

“I wish it wasn't this way, but it is what it is. I can forgive a lot of things. Even this if done properly, but for now I just need to not be here anymore. Please know that I don't blame you for any of this. You're just as much a victim of his choices as I am.” You kiss his cheek.

“I love you. Please don't hurt him too much and take care of yourself okay. If you need me you know where I’ll be.” You pivot on your heels and head out the door, gently closing it behind you. You make it all the way to the penthouse they provided you before you break down in tears as you pack up all of your belongings. You’ve just gotta get out here.

That’s how you ended up here, attending a party hosted by Pepper and Tony Stark, as their plus one. In all honesty you knew Tony only threw this event because he wanted to cheer you up and this is the only way he knew how outside of the bedroom. That was his first approach, which was shutdown quickly by Pepper the moment she saw you on their doorstep, clearly heartbroken.

You weren't here only in a work capacity, although they were paying for your time, they just wanted to protect you and let you heal without the added pressure to ‘perform’. So once again, on paper and according to your bank account at least, you were their Sugar Baby.

You did terminate the contract with Steve and Bucky the same day the incident occurred, so it was good to know you wouldn't have to dip into your savings just yet. Thank goodness Pepper still kept your old apartment in Stark Tower ready for you just in case.

The relationship you shared with them was not at all conventional, with or without a contract. Frankly they were the only people you knew who you could always count on and that meant the world to you. You truly did love the Starks. Before Steve and Bucky came along they were your favorite clients. They were the ones to introduce you to the powerful couple, at a party just like this one actually. So technically they were to blame for your current heartbreak.

I wonder if they’ll both show their faces here and if Sharon will be on Steve’s arm? I wonder how Bucky is holding up, if the nightmares have come back? Fuck. I told myself I wasn't going to think about them tonight and here I am almost in tears at the thought of Bucky in pain. I need a drink or five.

It isn’t until you're nursing your third cocktail at the bar, catching up with Wanda that you spot them, the usual entourage of Nat and Sam at their sides, Clint taking up the rear. Ever the intimidating image as always. Other than Tony, who runs Manhattan, they’re the biggest bosses in the room, controlling Brooklyn. Thankfully they brokered a truce years ago and everyone works together peacefully.

Before you have a chance to escape to a far corner where you can hide away, you make the mistake of glancing over your shoulder and catch the intense blues of Bucky staring straight into your soul. Even tired he looks like a damn Greek god. Tragedy included.

He breaks the stare off, leaning over to Nat and whispering something in her ear. You watch as she skillfully distracts Steve and moves him towards the center or the party where the Starks are currently holding court. Lost in watching Nat do what she does best, you don't realize Bucky has made his way over to you until it’s too late and you feel the ghost of fingertips trace down your exposed spine in your backless black dress.

He leans over your shoulder. That sweet baritone you love whispering into your ear. “You look magnificent tonight, Doll. Would you grant a poor mortal the chance to remain in your presence with a dance?”

You lift your glass to your lips, keeping your eyes straight ahead, finishing the remnants of alcohol while you ponder your response. With a steadying breath you respond. “One dance couldn't hurt. But it can't be here, among such prying eyes. I’d rather remain in the shadows tonight.”

“As you wish.” He proceeds to rest his hand on the small of your back and guide you toward a darkened sitting room off the main hall. You could faintly hear the music over the murmur of voices wafting into the space.

He pulls you close, wrapping his large arms around your waist as you rest yours around his thick neck. Being in his arms again, after weeks of loneliness, feels like coming home. You place your forehead against the space between his collarbone when he begins to sway to the dull beat.

“How have you been, Doll? Truthfully. Don’t try to sugarcoat it for my feelings.”

Keeping your face right where it is, to shield you from those steel grays you love so much, you give him your truth. “Surviving. That’s the best way I can describe it. I’ve been licking my wounds and trying to mend this hole I feel in my heart. I keep thinking, I just have to get to tomorrow and the pain will lessen even more. And one day it won’t hurt anymore when I think of them.”

You lift your head to run your eyes over his handsome face. “How about you? How have the Kings of Brooklyn been holding up in their Ivory Tower?”

Looking off into the darkened space, his eyes latching on to a sliver of moonlight coming in through a crack in the curtains. You feel his chest vibrate as he scoffs. “We’re not even sleeping in the same bed right now. I was so upset with him that day that I couldn’t even be bothered to help him with his hangover. Funny enough, Sharon was kicked out immediately by Steve as soon as you left. Like legit woke her up, threw her clothes at her and screamed at her to get the fuck out. She didn’t leave without spewing a few truths first.”

He just shakes his head, rambling out his thoughts as they come into his mind. “Apparently it was her plan all along to get him drunk and earn her spot back by his side. She’d been talking shit about the both of us and just wanted Steve to herself. She knew just how to get into Steve’s head due to his loyalty to her family. Thought that you’d just latch on to me and I would let him go to keep you. She had no idea that you would drop us both because you couldn't handle breaking us apart.”

You stare at him slack jawed, as he turns to look down at your moonlit face.

“Not gonna lie. I’m drowning without you, Doll. I can’t even look at him after what he did. It was reckless, regardless of his inebriated state. He knows how I feel about her and the things she’s done to him and me in the past.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“The fucking Golden idiot, due to his loyalty to her Aunt and Uncle, and what he feels he owes them, just keeps letting her back in. I’m done with it. What about the respect I deserve as his partner in business and life? Fuck that, what about the respect and loyalty YOU deserve.” He’s staring straight into your soul again.

“Your loyalty. Your love. It saved me babygirl. Your light always cuts through the darkness for me. You were the piece we were fucking missing and I cant believe he would even risk that. I’ve tried to let you go. I understand your reasons for leaving us. But I just can't do it. Even seeing the pain he’s trying to hide away, the tough front he’s putting on, isn’t enough to keep me around right now. I miss you baby. I’d give it all up to have you back in my arms for good. All this lavish bullshit isn't worth anything to me without you by my side. I hate that I’m being punished for his fuck up. Again I'm not blaming you for your decision baby. It just hurts and I miss you so fucking much. I can't even sleep at night anymore.”

You can’t resist running your fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck. “Bucky. I miss you too. So much. I wish it wasn't like this. I never wanted to leave you. You’re right. You never did do anything wrong. You were more than loyal to me. I hate thinking I’m causing you pain because of a stupid decision he made.” Tears begin to well in your eyes.

He gives your waist a squeeze. “Don’t cry baby. We can figure this out. Where are you staying? I know Tony and Pep took over your contract.”

You sniffle a bit. “They did. But it’s not what you think. Sex is not on the table. Though Tony fought me and Pep on that. He thinks a good dicking is all I need. They just want me to heal in peace. I’m staying here at the Tower in my old apartment.”

He nods his head. “Good. Makes me feel better knowing you're safe.” He grabs your cheeks tenderly. “I wish I could kiss you right now. It’s all I’ve wanted to do these last couple weeks. Just having you in my arms again isn’t enough.”

“Please.” You whisper out.

“Do you mean it, Doll? You're not just telling me what you think I want because you feel guilty for your decision to leave?” He implores.

“I don't regret my decision to leave, Bucky. But I do hate that I had to leave you behind. Like I said that morning. I could forgive almost anything. There’s just not anything you need to apologize for. So why did I let my emotions drag you in with my need for him to be punished? It was stupid of me. If you can forgive me for how I left, I would like to keep you in my life. In whatever way you see fit for that.” You confess.

“Really?” He furrows his brows. Not wanting to get his hopes up.

“Yes. I’ve been miserable without you too.” You smile up at him.

“You good to get out here or do the Starks still need you tonight? Cus there is nothing I want more than to get you out of this dress and underneath me so I can show just how much I truly missed you.” That devilish smile of his, that means nothing but the good kind of trouble adorns his face as he awaits your answer.

“I’m not needed here. This whole party was just to get me out of my apartment anyway and for Tony to be Tony and throw his money around. Plus seeing him walk in like nothing happened, act or not, yeah that shit hit deep.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Then let’s head up to your place and make the most of the rest of our night. I’ve got some time to make up for, and I’m all of a sudden ravenous.” The feral look in his eyes has you clenching your thighs together.

Not to be intimidated, you run a hand down his neck until it rests along the waistband of his dress slacks. “Yes, Sir.”

He lets out a deep growl, pulls you close by the back of your neck and lays the most devastating, soul consuming kiss on your lips. Pouring every emotion into. Conveying without words just how much you mean to him.

How could I have ever left this man behind?

You’ve barely made it through your apartment door before Bucky has you pinned against it.

“I don’t know wether to rip this dress off you and fuck you right here against this door or take my time sweet time and worship every inch of your skin like you deserve.”

“Who says you have to only pick one option? We have the whole night ahead of us, don't we Sir?”

“Fucking minx.” He steals another heated kiss and pulls away from your chasing lips, panting. “Where’s your room babygirl. I’ve decided taking you apart piece by piece on your bed is the best place to start.”

You close your eyes for a moment and suppress a moan. “Promises. Promises. Sir.”

Throwing him a wink, you lick your lips before turning and heading off down the hall. Sashaying your hips and divesting yourself of your dress right outside your bedroom door.

Now completely nude, you climb onto your bed. Just as you lie back, resting on your elbows with your knees bent and legs spread wide, drooling pussy on full display, Bucky’s large figure graces your doorway. Shirtless, he stalks over to the bed, unbuckling his pants and losing them along with his boxer briefs along the way.

He reaches the end of your bed. Eyes zeroed in on your glistening little slit. A feral grin slowly spreads across his face and he pounces. Before you know it your back hits the mattress of your king sized bed and Bucky is pushing your legs apart, resting your knees on his broad shoulders and laying kisses on your thighs.

“This is the only place I wanted to be for weeks. Couldn't stop thinking about all the little noises you make for me when I feast upon this sweet cunt. How you squirm when I hit the right spot with my tongue. Fuck . Just look at you babygirl, so wet for me you're dripping onto the sheets already.” He swipes his tongue up along your folds from entrance to clit, eliciting a moan from you. You’ve always been sensitive but you haven't even touched yourself in the weeks since you left. Too overcome in your grief. So just that little movement is almost too much already.

Clearly a man on a mission, he begins to devour you, wasting no time thrusting his tongue inside as deep as he can. The thick muscle massaging your silken walls, giving them something to clamp on to. “ Fuck, Bucky. That feels so good.”

Your hands are anchored in his hair, pulling on his silken strands, just enjoying the ride on his tongue he is giving you. When he swirls his tongue, pulls it out and then moves it to lightly draw infinity symbols on your clit you lose it.

A kaleidoscope of stars detonates behind your eyes as the orgasm slams into you. Gripping onto his locks tighter as you writhe beneath him, back arching off the mattress before you go boneless.

Coming back to your senses, you blink open your eyes and peer down at Bucky. His chin is glistening wet. A proud smile gracing his handsome face. Adoration shining in his icy blues. “There she is.” He laughs. “Had me worried for a minute there babygirl. Thought I might have made ya pass out. Looks like it was just one hell of an orgasm.”

A sweet smile adorns your blissed out face as you caress his damp cheeks. “One hell of an orgasm indeed.”

He begins to crawl up the bed towards you, leaving a path of kisses in his wake. His massive thighs push your legs further apart as he gives his turgid length a couple of slow strokes. He teases the thick head of his member along your folds, coating himself in your essence.

You lock eyes with him as you whimper. “Please.”

He leans forward, interlocking his hands in yours, placing a toe curling kiss to your lips as he enters the warmth of your cunt. Splitting you open on his generous girth. Pulling his hips back and leaving you no time to adjust as he begins to grind his hips down on yours with every thrust.

Foreheads pressed together, completely lost in this carnal dance of love and devotion. The room fills with the sounds of your passion. A symphony of moans and groans, accompanied with the sound of slick flesh meeting slick flesh.

“Nothing has ever felt as good as your pussy squeezing me so tightly when you lose yourself to your pleasure. I need you to come for me baby. Come around my cock. I’m not going to last much longer and I need to feel you let go for me.” He groans out between brutal thrusts.

It’s like his words have a direct link to your clit and with another well placed swivel of his hips you feel yourself lose control as your orgasm takes over. A rainbow of colors flash behind your eyes and the world sounds as if you're underwater.

Everything comes back into focus just as Bucky is reaching his own climax. Burying himself deep inside you as he bites down on your shoulder and paints your womb white with rope after rope of his seed. Panting, he leaves a gentle kiss on the mark his teeth left behind. You run your fingers through his dark tresses and kiss his nose.

“Fuck I missed that.” He blurts out as he comes down from his own high.

“Agreed. Although, I must admit. It’s never felt quite as intense before. Feral yes. But that was something else altogether. I want more.” The confession slips from your lips.

“I’d give you the world babygirl. All you have to do is ask.” He places a soft kiss on your lips. “Let’s make some good use of that large walk in shower I can see from here and get dirty while we get clean. A round two is much needed. I haven't had my fill of you yet tonight.”

You giggle as he rolls over, slides off the bed and proceeds to scoop you up in his arms and into the ensuite. “You weren’t kidding about making up for lost time.”

“Darlin’, I’ll never get enough of you.”

You awaken slowly, sunlight slipping in through the blinds and a sweet soreness throughout your body. You open your eyes to the beautiful sight of a sleeping Adonis laid beside you, as peaceful as you’ve ever seen him. You take a moment to just watch his chest rise and fall with each breath until a vibration against the nightstand to his right catches your attention.

You reach across Bucky’s prone frame to grab his phone. It seems that Steve has been sending texts and leaving messages for Bucky throughout the night. Having felt you move, he rouses from his slumber and nuzzles into your neck. “Not that I’m complaining about having you draped over me like a blanket, but what has you moving around so much already? I thought I wore you out last night.”

Turning the device in your hand towards his slowly waking eyes you respond. “Your phone. Apparently Steve needs your attention.”

He takes his phone from your hand and goes through all the texts and two voicemails left for him. He responds with a picture of the two of you together in bed.

I'm right where I'm supposed to be Pal. Don’t know when or if I’ll be home though.

This is how you spend the next week. Lazy days full of fucking, comfort food, dancing, smoking and watching movies. Just enjoying your time together in a little bubble. Bucky taunting Steve with pictures and videos of how you're spending days together. At one point even you get in on the torment, texting him back pics of Bucky cooking shirtless, in the shower, having a smoke or cuddled up on your lap.

Looks like breakfast is served.

Cleanse the skin of its many sins.

He just can’t seem to quit

He won’t let me move

Bucky is much more of an ass about it though. Sending provocative pics of you and rubbing in how badly he fucked up.

I’ll never get enough of kissing the breath out of her

Best morning view

Gonna have to thank Tony for this secret little room in her apartment.

Having enough of his moping and random fits of anger targeted at whoever was closest, Natasha decides it’s time to take things into her own hands. With some help from her friends of course. Wanting to help move things along, the Starks call a meeting with Steve to be held at the tower in their personal conference room located in their penthouse. They need to figure out if it's even worth letting you back into his life.

Surprisingly Tony is more than okay with Bucky cohabitating in sin with you here in the tower. The smile is back on your face and your laughter is filling the halls once more. But Steve has a bigger battle to fight, having betrayed your trust and he wants to make sure that he understands that.

The man of the hour walks in with a calm step and an air of malice in his cerulean eyes. The bags beneath them tell the story of a man suffering for his choices. Tony has been there before. That time when Pepper came to her senses and left him high and dry when he refused to commit to her, unwilling to give up his playboy ways. That’s when he first used your services. He needed someone on his arm for events and he just couldn’t handle bringing a new person each time. It would only aid in making what Pepper said about him true.

It was you who listened to him make drunken confessions of his true feelings for his former lover. That he did want to commit but he was afraid that he wasn't cut out for monogamy. That’s when you told him all about your non monogamous status. “Monogamy is great for those who chose to live that way. But for me, I’m just not content with only one lover in my life. I am polyamorous as well though. But don’t be confused. Not every non-mono person is that way. Some only want to play with others and keep emotions out of it and that’s ok. I for one am happy with multiple play partners as well as multiple full fledged relationships. To each their own ya know.” You gave a little shrug.

“It seems to me that the only amorous relationship you want is with her. You just want the option to play when an opportunity presents itself. And I’m willing to bet that you want her included in those sessions as well.” You can’t help wiggling your brows.

“That’s the dream isn’t it. Ya know, I think you two would like each other. Too bad I chased her away. The trouble we could all get in together. Mmmm.” He bites his lip and continues drinking his whiskey.

“Who says you can't win her back? Give me your phone.” He hands it over, unaware that you were going to change his life for the better.

Snapping out of his memories and giving attention back to the room full of his friends and fellow gangsters, he locks eyes with Steve. “Hello Steven.” He smirks. “You’re looking well.”

“Cut the crap Tony. What did you drag me here for?” He bites out.

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa Cap. I brought you here for the benefit of your relationships but now I’m thinking I should have left it alone.” He runs his fingers over his goatee.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that icy little boyfriend of yours and everyone's favorite escort. I’m sure you're more than aware of the love den they have been spending their time in. Licking their wounds and mending their heartbreak together.”

He quirks a brow. “Tony I don't have time for your bullshit. If you didn't bring me here for business then I’m gonna head out that door. I have better things that I could be doing with my time.”

“Like what? Taking out your anger at your colossal fuck up on your subordinates? Spending some more time between that Carter’s legs?” He declares with disdain.

With the quickness of a man half his size, Steve’s hand is wrapped around Tony’s throat. “You need to learn not to speak of things that don’t concern you.”

Pepper and Natasha rush forward. One afraid for her husband's safety, the other worried about the truce being broken due to her boss's emotional outburst. Men.

“Alright boys. Enough is enough. Steven, please let go of my husband. We really did bring you here to help you out. He’s just a little overprotective of her. We all are.” Pepper implores in her softest tone.

With Natasha’s help and a nudge from Sam he finally gives in and lets Tony’s neck go. “Thank you.”

He slumps back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know I fucked up. I let my allegiance to the Carter family blind me and allow my toxic ass ex to manipulate her way back into my life. In the process, regardless of my overly intoxicated state, I betrayed the love of my life, my best friend. As well as the only women who has ever truly understood our dynamic and accepted and loved us unconditionally. And I'm the idiot you didn't realize how madly in love with her I was until I watched her leave us that morning. Us. Not me, who deserved her wrath, but us. She couldn't bring herself to choose between us, even in her pain. I don’t fault Buck for leaving me to my misery to go after her.”

He scoffs. “They’ve been torturing me daily with pictures of their time spent together. I want that. I want back in their good graces but I have no idea how to fix what I broke or even if I can.”

Pepper places her hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can. I can’t speak for James, but I’ve never known her to not at least have an honest conversation. Start there, she’ll appreciate your honesty. Don’t complicate things. Lay all your cards on the table and let them lay down theirs. It’s that simple.”

“I’m willing to go that route. If I even knew where they were.” He sighs.

“Well, lucky for you Cap that Pep here never got rid of the little vixens apartment. And I have it on good authority that they ordered take out that will need to go through security before making it’s way up to them.” Rubbing his neck Tony says with a smirk.

“I’m gonna need you to intercept that order for me.”

You're cuddled up all cozy in Bucky’s lap, watching Bride Of Chucky, when the doorbell goes off.

“Must be the food. I’ll grab it, no need to pause. You know I have this memorized.” You lay a quick kiss on his cheek and make your way to the door.

Grabbing your wallet from the hall table you open the door and let out a gasp. Standing there with your take out in his hand and puppy dog eyes is none other than Steven Grant Rogers.

You have no idea how long you stand there, just staring at him.

“Hey babe, what’s taking so long? Can’t find your wallet again?” Bucky comes up behind and stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Steve. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Bucky.” You admonish.

“No, no, it’s okay. I get it.” He lets out a deep sigh. “I just wanted to talk to both of you. Tony and Pep helped me get up here. Please. I just want to talk. If you don't like what I have to say you can kick me out and I’ll never bother you again. That goes for you too Buck.”

You and Bucky share a look, before you open the door further and step aside. “Come on in, Steve.”

You head back to the living room, and have Steve place the food on the coffee table as you pause the movie and take a seat on the sofa next to Bucky.

Instead of sitting on the loveseat to the left of you, Steve lowers himself to his knees before you. “First and foremost, I’m sorry. I’m not even going to try and make excuses for it. Drunk or not, it shouldn't have happened. And I definitely shouldn’t have yelled at you when I was only angry at myself.”

He reaches for your hands, which you let him take. “You had every right to leave me. I’m an idiot. I love you and I let you slip away.” He turns to Bucky. “I’m sorry I even entertained her baby. I know how she makes you feel. Again, I’m an idiot.”

“Not gonna argue with you on that one.” Bucky says as he leans back against the couch.

“I can’t promise that I won’t fuck up again in some way. I am stubborn after all. But what I can promise is that I’ll try. I’ll give you both my all and do what is necessary to win your trust back. Just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

You look at Bucky. “Do you believe him? Do you believe he’s remorseful and truly ready to make amends?”

“Seeing as how I’ve only ever seen him on his knees when he’s servicing me and I placed him there. I’m gonna have to go with yes I think he means it. The decision is up to you though, Doll. From here on out. I go where you go.” He places a kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you for laying this all on my shoulders Buck.” You turn back to Steve and place a hand upon his face. He nuzzles into it. “I’m willing to give you a chance. But just the one. You’re going to have to really work to earn our trust back and we won't take it easy on you. You’re going to need to woo us all over again.”

“Challenge accepted.” He quickly agrees.

“How about a kiss to seal the deal?” You suggest.

He leans in. “With pleasure, Doll.” He wraps his hand in your hair and proceeds to get you drunk off his love.

#poc reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #mafia au #avengers au #stucky x reader #stucky smut

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slutforstabbings-archive · 11 months

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Spend the Night

post-accident!alt!Corey Cunningham x alt!fem!Reader It's been a while since Corey left Haddonfield. He's making a new life in a new town, with a job as a bouncer at a bar that puts on punk and metal shows, living with Craigslist roommates. His past still haunts him, but maybe you can help him forget about it for a couple of hours. contents - smut (18+ MDNI), angst, mentions of past abuse, not-quite-friends to lovers, casual sex, handjob, PiV, subby Corey and slightly domme Reader 5,176 words requested by @ethanhoewke 💕 inspired by these tweets she sent me, and this post I made a couple months back. see my drawing of bouncer!Corey here. @rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @multifandom--mess @toxicanonymity @cordelium @hersweetrevenge

Corey leans against the stool in the doorway of the bar, half sitting, half standing, a far away look on his face. When he’d clocked in, the bartenders had been watching some ridiculous action movie with a title like Shoot Bastard or something on mute on the TV above the bar. Shoot Bastard-esque movies remind Corey of Ronald, and thinking of Ron inevitably leads to thinking about Momma. Corey knows he shouldn’t give a shit what happened after he left – how Momma had handled it, how harshly she punished Ron, if she cried, if she misses him – but any little thing can send him down that rabbit hole. Even after all this time, all it takes is 10 seconds of straight to DVD bullshit out of the corner of his eye.

One day, coming up on two years ago now, Ron called Corey into his office. Corey assumed he was in trouble. Earlier in the week he’d had a fight with Joan just as he was about to leave for work. He was so upset when he first got to the garage that he accidentally let all the oil out of a car that had already been given a full oil change. But that wasn’t what Ron wanted to talk about.

“You gotta leave, kid,” he began. “You gotta get out of here. I know I’m not your dad, but I care about you like you’re my son, and I can’t sit around and watch what she does to you, what everybody does to you, anymore. You’re a good kid. You deserve a normal life.”

“Okay…” Corey said, not sure what to make of the declaration. He liked Ronald well enough, was thankful for the job and the distraction for Momma that Ron provided. But it was certainly news to him that Ronald might think of him as a son.

Ronald, for his part, wasn’t exactly lying. He did hate the way most people treated Corey, and he did feel a familial fondness for the quiet teenage boy who had grown into a fine young man in front of him over the past nine years. He was, however, having a moment. He was about to unveil his master plan to get Corey out of Haddonfield, for good. Ever since his divorce from his first wife, he’d felt small and ineffectual, winding up with a second wife who treated him like shit, largely because it’s what he felt he deserved. Doing this was as much about saving himself as saving Corey.

“I know your mother has access to your bank account,” Ron said, laying out the plan he’d worked so hard to devise. “So I want you to go to a different bank and open a new account there. I’m gonna start paying you twice. We’ll keep your direct deposit where she expects it to be. You use that check the way you always do, buy your snacks, put some in savings, don’t do anything that would make her suspicious. But I’m gonna give you a second check. Put that one in your new account, save the whole thing. We’ll do that for a while, until you have enough money to disappear.”

“Is that legal?” Corey asked.

“Christ, kid. Do you even wanna leave?”

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… I just don’t want any more legal trouble. For any of us.”

Ron deflated, his moment punctured by feelings of sadness for his pathetic step-son, and guilt for not doing more sooner.

“Don’t worry,” he assured Corey. “It’s all above board. I’m giving everybody raises cause the shop’s been doing so well. You’re just gettin’ the biggest one.”

Corey stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Ronald didn’t exactly obey Momma, but he was usually very careful about the ways he defied her. Helping Corey escape would probably end their marriage if she ever found out. While Corey had never understood what Ronald saw in Momma (or what Momma saw in Ron), he struggled to believe Ronald would jeopardize his relationship with her that way.

“You’re really for real?” He whispered.

“I’m really for real. Now, don’t tell me when you’re leaving or where you plan on going. Just buy a bus ticket when you feel like you have enough money and get out of here. And when you go, leave the card for the bank account she watches. We both know if she can see where you are, she might follow you.”

It took Corey three months of getting two paychecks to feel like he was financially ready to leave town, and another month after that for him to be emotionally ready too. But Halloween was coming, and he’d be damned if he spent another Halloween in fucking Haddonfield. So one chilly October morning he convinced Momma to leave for her errands before he left for work, promising he was right behind her, since he knew she hated it when he was home alone. Then he shoved as much of his wardrobe as he could fit into his backpack. He put his phone and the debit card Momma monitored on his dresser, emptied both of his savings accounts, and boarded a Greyhound bus headed west.

Corey looks down at his freckled thighs below the tattered hem of his cut-off shorts, his bare legs decorated with tattoos under wispy red hair. He doesn’t have to wonder how Momma would feel about those. She made it very clear that in her opinion tattoos were only for sailors and convicts (Which had his father been? Corey wondered but never asked). He’d always thought they were cool, always wanted to have as many as he could find space for. He got his first as soon as he could after he got away. It grounds him a little to see them whenever he looks down, a permanent reminder that his life is his, not hers.

A familiar voice brings him out of his thoughts.

“Helloooo. Earth to Corey.” It’s you, standing in front of him with a folded five dollar bill between your fingers and a concerned look on your face. “You good?” You ask him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says as he puts your money in the cash box. He stamps the back of your hand and waits for you to head inside, but you don’t.

“So, I had to park like, super far away. Would you mind walking me to my car after the show?” It’s not something you would ask just any bouncer at just any bar, but Corey is your favorite bouncer at your favorite bar. You’ve had a little crush on him for ages, dying to get even 10 minutes alone with him. If he won’t make the move, it’s time you did.

“Oh, uh, sure. Of course.”

“You’re the best,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. Then you go through the door and into the bar.

You spend the whole show distracted, thinking more about Corey than about the musicians playing their hearts out on stage. You remember the first night he worked the door. You could tell he was new from a distance, which intrigued you, and as his features came into focus as you drew nearer, you only became more interested. The new guy was a hottie. It had been winter then, so his tattoos were hidden from you, and his hair was a rich, warm brown. The weather warmed and Corey's clothes got less bulky, the hems on the sleeves of his shirts and the legs of his pants steadily rising with the temperatures, giving you a delicious view of his strong limbs. The seasons have progressed, and his hair has gotten longer, full of coppery strands brought out by the sun. It’s like every time you see him he’s better looking than the last. Tonight is no exception.

But his looks aren’t the only thing you like about Corey. When you go outside during changeover on nights he works the door, you shoot the shit with him. You like how his voice exists in the space between raspy and smooth, an accent you can’t quite place peeking through on certain words. You like the way he struggles to tell when you’re joking, but he’s always a good sport about the miscommunication, and how he has his own offbeat sense of humor that you’re slowly learning to watch for. You like his crooked smile, and the way he casually brings up complicated, niche knowledge without ever sounding condescending.

The nights Corey works inside, you feel extra safe knowing he’s watching over you. Sometimes he appears at your side with a plastic cup of water, yelling “Stay hydrated!” in your ear over the music. He checks on you when you fall in the pit, and he enforces the rule against crowd killing with an iron fist, dragging dudes who think it’s cool to windmill out to the sidewalk by their shirt collars. If another showgoer is bothering you, all you have to do is meet Corey’s eyes and you know he’ll take care of the problem.

You didn’t park so far away with the intention of getting him to walk you there, but after circling the block three times and seeing no nearby spots, you had no choice. You weren’t particularly scared to walk the distance, but you’d seen Corey as you drove past, Chicago Bears cap backwards over his gorgeous hair, pack of cigs tucked into the rolled up sleeve of his t-shirt, biceps bulging from the way his arms were crossed, and a lightbulb clicked on in your head. You practically sprinted to the door from your parking spot.

Outside on his stool, Corey’s still in a weird mood. He’s had his eye on you for months, and he’s pretty sure you’re interested in him too. Even so, he’s petrified to make a move. He favors you over the other patrons whenever you’re there, and he knows his coworkers notice, but it’s the only thing he can think to do to get closer to you. And his insecurities around dating just bring him right back to Momma. She fucking did this to him. Her refusal to let him have any normal interactions as a kid meant he still couldn’t as a grown-ass man. It’s like getting away from her only made her more present in his life.

He’s trying to remember what his therapist said about negative thoughts moving through without getting stuck. Thinking them and feeling them and then just letting them drift away. They can come over to hang out, but they can't spend the night. Corey wants to be someone you would let spend the night, and he thinks he could be, if he could just fucking relax for 30 goddamn seconds.

And it isn’t helping that you haven’t come outside once tonight. The reason is that you’re just as anxious as you are excited, thinking of ways to angle the walk to your car into something more, just like he is. But he doesn’t know that. So he sulks on his stool and hopes the thoughts will be done passing through before the last band plays their last song.

When the closing act does finish up, you’re the first person out the door, appearing by his side before the reverb of the final notes even stops echoing.

“Hey,” Corey says, “I usually have to stay for like, 15 minutes after the show ends, then I can walk you to your car.” Add something to let her know you want to hang out, he thinks, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Okay, no problem,” you say.

You stand off to the side and chat with friends until his shift is over. He takes the cashbox and the stool inside, and then he’s keeping pace with you down a quiet side street towards your car. A light breeze cools the sweat on your neck from dancing and you shiver. Corey comes just a little closer, knowing he runs hot, hoping he can subtly warm you with his radiant heat without you noticing. He’s not slick at all, but it’s endearing. You drift nearer to him too, so close you would barely need to reach out to lace your fingers with his.

“So. Where do you park?” You ask. “I can drive you to your car, since you walked me.”

“Oh, I walk to work. I don’t live far.”

“Oh, okay. I can drive you home, then.” You wait a beat to see if he’ll ask to hang out. You can sense that he wants to, but as you turn the corner and your little sedan comes into view, you decide it’s up to you. “Actually, I’m really hungry. Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

“Yeah?” Corey smiles. “I’m starving.”

You take Corey to a little shack of a New York style pizza place, where you eat giant slices on a rickety bench leaned against the side of the building. A window AC unit drips onto one half of the seat, so you sit with your bodies pressed together.

You and Corey have had a lot of physical contact since you met. He’s stamped the back of your hand a hundred times. He’s hooked his elbows under your armpits to hoist you off the floor, caught you over his brawny shoulder when you run out of crowd to surf, gently cleaned and stuck a bandaid over a scrape from the studs on someone else’s jacket. Somehow your thighs sticking together in the humid air feels much more intimate than any of that.

The proximity makes Corey’s heart pound in his throat. This close to you he can see the fine glitter you dusted over your skin before you left the house, and the little half-open holes dotting your face from piercings you’ve retired. He does his best to hold his voice steady and not think about the conniption Momma would have if she could see him with a painted harlot practically sitting in his lap. The negative thoughts can’t spend the night, he reminds himself. But he still wants to.

“It’s getting late,” he says when you’ve been sitting there talking and holding onto your grease-stained paper plates for what feels like hours. “Are you… Um. Do you need to get up early? Tomorrow?”

“No, I have a free day tomorrow. No plans, no responsibilities. I’ll probably be horizontal all day,” you say, laughing. You phrased it that way on purpose and you can see it working as Corey swallows hard and tries not to get distracted by the mental image of you lounging around in a tank top and panties.

“I’m free tomorrow too, and I’m not tired. We could hang out more, somewhere else?”

“I’d love to. Do you have somewhere in mind? I think most places are probably closing right about now.”

“Oh, uh…” Corey responds lamely.

The obvious answer hangs between you for a moment. You wait, daring him to say it first. You’d been dying to spend 10 minutes alone with Corey, and taking the lead tonight has gotten you that and so much more. You could quit while you’re ahead, adopt an oh well, maybe next time attitude. Or you could finish what you started.

“If you want, we can –”

“What if we –”

You both try at the same time.

“No, you –”

“I’m sorry, you –”

Corey’s embarrassed, but you giggle, a sweet sound that immediately makes him feel better. He laughs with you. You point at yourself, then at him, then at yourself, an exaggerated look of questioning on your face. He laughs at that too, pointing emphatically at you.

“If you want,” you start again, “we can go back to my place?”

You live by yourself in a little studio. You unlock the door and reach inside to turn a lamp on, before swinging it wide and pulling Corey inside. He takes his hat off, his large hand fluffing out the dent in his hair, and looks around for somewhere to set it down. His first impression as his eyes wander is how similar to his own apartment yours is – how you’ve had to work around the eccentricities of the building, how so much of your furniture would be instantly recognizable to anyone who's seen a recent IKEA catalog, how your mattress and box spring rest directly on the ground.

Momma (ugh there she is again) always kept the house spotless, with strict adherence to her ugly-but-well-defined aesthetic, taking meticulous care of the heavy wooden furniture she made Corey’s father buy before Corey was born. While living somewhere that hasn’t been fossilized for 25+ years is a much needed change of pace, he’s often embarrassed by the disheveled way he and his roommates keep things, cringing whenever they bring a friend or partner over for the first time. He was grateful that you suggested your place, but seeing the way your rooms reflect his destroys that insecurity and makes him feel right at home.

You’re still holding his wrist from pulling him inside, and you use it to guide him on a “tour” of your tiny space.

“This is the living room,” you say. Then you drag him one foot to the right. “And over here is the bedroom.” Corey laughs as you rotate him 90 degrees. “Enormous, state of the art chef’s kitchen.” You gesture toward the rickety old range and skinny half-sized dishwasher. You pull him down the hallway and into the bathroom. “And here we have the sauna and spa.”

“Wow, it’s just like a big mansion from a movie,” Corey says.

“They’ve actually filmed like, 100 movies here,” you joke. You reach behind you and turn the water on in the bathtub. “I’m gonna wash off real quick, you know how gross it can be in the pit.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” He turns to leave but you wrap your fingers around his wrist again.

“You don’t have to go. You can sit on the toilet and keep me company. Or you could join me.”

Corey opens and closes his mouth in surprise, shaking his head, floundering. “Join you?”

“If you want.” You shrug, pretending to be nonchalant.

“No. Yeah. I mean. It would be great to join you, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

You pull the pin to switch the water from the faucet to the showerhead. “Do you want to check the temperature?”

You switch places with him and he leans over the edge of the tub to stick his hand in the stream. He considers it for a second. While he’s distracted, you start taking your clothes off. You’re down to just your bralette and panties when he turns back around.

“I think that’s… good,” he says, the end of his sentence strangled by the sight of you in your underwear.

You smile sweetly as you peel the bralette off and raise it over your head. Corey gawks. “Are you gonna shower with your clothes on?” You ask.

“Oh,” Corey says with a nervous chuckle, setting his glasses and his hat on the vanity. He tries (and mostly fails) not to stare at your breasts as he pulls his shirt over his head. He loosens his laces to slip out of his boots, yanks off his socks, and undoes his belt. His face feels hot, which he knows means it’s red. He clears his throat and drops his shorts, then he turns around to give both of you some privacy for the last step.

When his shirt comes off, it takes your breath away. You knew Corey was a thick boy, and kinda heavily tattooed, but you were not at all prepared for the sight that met you as he started to strip. The true breadth of his shoulders, the size of his traps, the soft definition of his abs, and lines of his hips pointing right where you want to be, all accentuated by his tattoos, way more of them than you were expecting. If he could keep his eyes off your tits, he might’ve noticed you were staring at him too.

He steps into the shower with his hands clasped in front of his crotch. His modesty is adorable. On his end he’s not sure which would be worse, shrinkage from the cold air, or chub before anything has even happened. Either way it seems best to keep things obscured and fix his eyes on the drain as you step into the tub and close the curtain.

“You don’t have to hide. I’ve seen a dick before,” you say gently, as if reading his thoughts. “And you don’t have to avert your gaze.”

Corey looks up from the floor of the shower, meeting your eyes. You give him an encouraging smile and he chuckles, dropping his hands. “Okay.”

The temptation to look down immediately and see what he was hiding is strong, but you manage to keep your eyes on his face. You duck out of the shower stream to let him get wet, flipping the top of your body wash and squeezing some out. You gesture with the bottle to Corey and he offers you his hand, palm up. You dispense a little dollop for him.

“You have more tattoos than I thought you would. How long has it taken you to get so covered?”

“Like a year and a half?”

“Holy shit, Speed Racer!” You laugh, and he fucking giggles. He’s so cute you could die. Between your legs, your clit starts to throb.

“I uh, had to wait a long time to start getting tattooed. Kinda thought it would never happen. So I’m going a little crazy, trying to catch up.”

“That’s actually so cool. I’m glad you get to make that happen.” You finally let your eyes drift down, studying his tattoos through the bubbles on his skin, using your hand like a squeegee to get a better look at a few of them, and to have an excuse to touch him. They’re all American Traditional – faithful to the rules, truly old school, Sailor Jerry levels of traditional – but you can pick out the hands of several different artists. They’re all packed extremely solid, the colors vibrant and smooth under his freckled pink skin. You get a decent glimpse of his penis while you check out the tats on his stomach. It makes a very good first impression, although if he’s much of a grower you might be in for a challenge. “They’re beautiful, Corey. You have really good taste.”

He shakes his head, denying the compliment. “It’s all flash from a walk-in shop.”

“But you picked the shop.” You slide your soapy hands back up his torso to squeeze his shoulders. “And you picked the designs off the wall.” You squeeze again. “Curation makes the collection.”

“I guess I’ve never thought of it like that,” he says.

You stand there like that for a minute, your hands on his shoulders, looking into each other's eyes. You’ve never seen him in decent lighting before, and you’re learning that he has the longest eyelashes in the world, and his eyes are the color of good iced tea, but staring at him is only making you thirstier. You drape your wrists over his shoulders and rest your forearms on his chest. He puts his hands on your hips. You slowly drift closer to each other as if pulled by magnets. The last traces of Corey’s rough mood from earlier in the night flow down the drain with the soapy water. All he’s thinking about is you.

You can feel him starting to get hard, the tip of his cock poking you in the thigh, higher and higher until you lean away enough for it to reach its full height. You lean back in closer than you were before, wrapping your arms all the way around his neck. Finally he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, his plush lips feather light against yours. But his boner resting on your belly is making you want him too badly to abide by that for long. You press in harder, and he returns the pressure. You open your mouth more, and he follows your lead. Your tongues slide against each other and he sighs into your mouth. He still tastes just a little like the cigarette he smoked before you left the pizza place. His hands move from your hips, massaging your back and tentatively cupping your ass.

You kiss so long the water starts to get cold. You pull away from him reluctantly, despite your lips already getting chapped, and rinse the few remaining bubbles from your skin. You pull a giant blanket towel from the cabinet and wrap it around both of you. It’s extremely inefficient when it comes to actually drying you off, but you barely care, just using it as an excuse to keep your arms around him.

“That’s dry enough, right?” He asks. He’s so hard it borders on painful. He’s desperate for more, anything more, whatever you’ll give him.

“Yeah, that’s totally dry enough,” you agree, tossing the towel over the curtain rod.

You lead Corey back down the hallway, to the foot of the bed. You crawl up to the head of the bed, wiggling your ass in the air for him as you go. At the head of the bed you lay down and beckon for him. He scrambles to lay down next to you. His lips are so raw that they taste like blood, but he’s insatiable, needing to be kissing you. He pulls you into his arms so that you’re lying on your side, and you drape your top leg over his pelvis. His breathing gets heavier, and he’s dying to rock his hips so that his achy, leaking cock rubs against your impossibly soft thigh, but he doesn’t. He’s not sure if it’s okay, not realizing it’s the whole reason you put your leg where you put it.

If he won’t grind into your thigh, you’ll just have to grind your thigh into him instead. As his length drags across your skin it leaves a hot trail of precum. He shudders beneath you and makes a little strangled sound. It makes your pussy gush. You want to make him whimper, you want to hear him groan and whine and cry.

“Corey,” you purr against his stubbly cheek. “Why are you holding back?”

“I, uh – I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. Like, what you want me to do.”

“Should I just tell you what to do?”

“Please.”

You kiss him again before giving your first instruction. “Don’t try to be quiet. The walls in this place are really thick, so you don’t have to worry about anybody but me hearing you. But I want to hear everything.”

“Okay,” he whimpers.

You reach your hand down and wrap your fingers around his shaft. He inhales sharply. His satiny skin slides up and down as you gently stroke him. You told him not to be quiet, so he lets out a long moan, surprising himself with how desperate the sound is.

“Does that feel good?” You coo.

“Mhm,” Corey groans.

“Good. Don’t try to be still either, baby. If you want to thrust, thrust.”

And thrust he does, immediately, pressing his hips into your hand hard before dropping them back down to the bed. Your satisfied laugh is music to his ears. He thrusts into your hand again, and again. Faster and faster. You kiss him as you pump his cock in your hand, but he’s too busy whining and panting to kiss you back.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Stop for a second. Please.”

You release him and bring your hand to your mouth, tasting the mess he made. The sight of you licking his precum off your palm nearly kills him. While he recovers, you pull a condom out of the drawer in your nightstand. You hold it up for him to see, squeezing it so he knows the little air bubble is still inside.

“Can I put this on you?” He nods. He closes his eyes and lets out a long, shaky breath as you roll the condom on. You lay on your back and gesture for him to climb on top of you. “Okay, now come here,” you say.

He kneels between your legs. You hold your arms out to him and he slowly lowers himself into them, planting one wide hand on either side of you. His cock taps against your slit and it makes you both hum.

“I need to feel you inside me,” you whisper.

Corey’s toned arms almost give out. “I need to be inside you,” he agrees in a strained voice.

You guide him to the right spot. With one push he slides all the way in. He’s completely fucking perfect, filling you all the way up. He flexes his hips experimentally, and the smallest little movements cause him to make the prettiest little whines. You feel so good around him, he’s scared he won’t last five seconds if he moves the way he wants to, but the way you’re looking up at him weakens his will, and he gives in.

Once he starts in earnest, he can’t stop, overtaken with a sense of urgency, needing more, more, more. His face and chest turn bright red. His eyes tear up and he squeezes them closed. The way he pounds you feels fucking incredible, but the sight of him and the sound of his whiny moans getting higher and higher pitched is what makes you truly feral.

“Holy shit, Corey.” You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. “You feel so fucking good. You fill me up just right.”

You feel the effects your words have on him, faltering slightly before fucking you even harder.

“Look at me,” you command. He opens his eyes and you see the tears welling there. You’re worried for a second, but before you can ask if he’s okay, he reassures you.

“I’ve… never… felt this good,” he says between gulping breaths. “I’m really… really close.”

“Oh yeah? You’re close?” Your tone is teasing, but sweet.

“So close,” he barely manages to say, the rhythm of his movements becoming less coherent.

“I want you to cum for me.”

“B-but… but…”

“Don’t fight it. Cum for me, Corey.”

You wrap your legs around his hips and that’s his undoing. He whines your name, muscles trembling, spilling into the condom, a single tear breaching his waterline.

"Oh my god," he says, voice hoarse as he lays back down beside you.

"That good, huh?"

"Mmm," he hums happily.

When he realizes you didn't cum, he's adamant about returning the favor. And you'll let him in the morning, coaching him on exactly how to rub your clit to make you scream, before you take him for breakfast at a greasy little diner and drop him off to a chorus of "Ooooh where were you last night?" from his roommates. But for now you just snuggle into his thick, strong arms, content to spend the night with him.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham smut #fan fic #fan fiction #mine #cc

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abarbaricyalp · 9 months

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WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @funsized-loser !!!! Please, everyone who wants to add on to this post, feel free! I love reading people's WIPs! This is from the next (hopefully) fic I'm posting! I'm so close to finishing it, I can almost taste it. It's called Tell It To The Bees (and the birds)

There was a bulletin board in the lobby of the building, across from the bank of mailboxes. It was supposed to be for building wide notices–fire inspections, water outages, that kind of thing. Mostly it was full of passive-aggressive notes about the cleanliness of the dog park and the fact that trash bags weren’t supposed to be left in the hallway for any length of time.

Bucky thought about leaving a note inquiring towards the bird coop, but he 1) didn’t want to get someone else in trouble and 2) more importantly, didn’t want to get himself in trouble. He reread a note about someone on the third floor who apparently habitually burned things in the oven as someone stood at the mailboxes.

“Hey, 203,” they called over.

Bucky startled slightly and turned around. His bland, friendly smile fell away as he realized who was there. “Wilson,” he greeted through his teeth. “I thought you worked Thursdays.”

Sam Wilson was in 205, the unit that shared a bedroom wall with Bucky’s bedroom. It wasn’t that Wilson was having rough, hot sex and reminding Bucky that he wasn’t. It was just that Wilson made a million other noises all through the night and then had the audacity to leave notes on Bucky’s door about singing in the shower.

Well. And there was the time Bucky accidentally kind of ruined their shared pipes by washing hair product down the sink. But that was an accident!

“It is definitely Friday,” Sam snorted. He continued to dig in his mailbox, freeing a large envelope that had been rolled and folded to fit into the small metal tray. “Hey, I’ve had gumbo stewing all day, if you wanna come over for dinner,” he added.

That was another thing he had the audacity with. He was always inviting Bucky over like he was some orphan to feed. Bucky didn’t even remember what off-handed, one-time remark he’d made about something smelling good before Wilson was all over him with invitations. It was so underhanded when they already clearly had a rivalry. Bucky could cook. He kept himself fed. Just because everything Sam made really did smell so damn good didn’t mean Bucky was always looking for food.

“Uh, no, thanks,” he said. “I’m actually on my way out to a ther–” Bucky cut himself off. He knew Sam worked at the VA as some kind of counselor, but that didn’t mean he wanted his nemesis to know just how deep his issues ran. Not that therapy was a bad thing. For, like, anyone else. Bucky was different. And Sam would know that. Sam would know exactly what kind of fucked up Bucky was. “I’m going out with friends.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and made a show of checking the watch he always wore. “At four in the afternoon? I can leave it on the stove a while longer. Come over when you get back.”

“Not really the kind of night where I’m planning on coming back,” Bucky lied.

Judging by the way Sam’s eyebrow rose even higher, he also clocked it as a lie. “Alright, man. Don’t gotta brag. Have fun or whatever.”

Bucky nodded, tripped over his feet when he couldn’t decide if he should be going to the building door or back to his apartment. Sam did an admirable job of hiding his snort.

“Later, 203,” he called over his shoulder as he ducked into the stairwell.

Bucky banged his head against the bulletin board and cursed his whole damn existence.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #writing #i answer things

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moonlit-trolls · 1 year

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Ain't a Pretty Job

[Introduction to Don! Newest guy in the roster]

[Docs for your soul]

— You’re Costing me Business. —

The man behind the counter spoke. Metal left arm, made for fleetwork. Repurposed.

— Costing you business? I’m keeping this shithole afloat ritz. I’m the fuckin’ reason you buy whiskey every week. Cuz I go through the six bottles you buy and I take half of the one you keep for yourself. —

Donnie’s Voice came out more aggressive than it should. Ritz is nicer than anyone’s been to the man. But Ritz is right. In the middle of the night while everyone’s working donnie is here drinking. When people are spending time with their quadrants, he’s here drinking. Come to think he might be Ritz's closest friend… If only.

— I’m tellin’ you donnie if you don’t fucking stop scaring the customers with that spittin blood at every third drink crap i’ll have to kick you out. —

Ritz spoke again. slamming his metal fist on the counter, whiskey spilled down to the ground.

— Aw C’mon You love me, if you didn’t you’d have me gone a long time ago —

Donnie spoke, getting up from his seat, and putting a handful of crumpled bills on the counter. Walking out that door

And out that door he did walk. you might think night is time to do things, get busy. but that man has never been freer. Now that he fucking dropped his job, ain’t nothing stopping Donnie.

Two pills, flask to wash down, as the man stared into the end of the road, The lights seemed welcoming, they're just rushing cars ready to drop him. Maybe another bank got robbed, maybe another fuchsia killed but that’s not his problem any longer. hasn’t been for two and half sweeps. Leaving the fucking bacon behind was his best decision and he’d tell that himself.

But. Peace doesn’t go for long not when the fucking pigsty’s after a man. and the sirens sound like they’re coming for him. Faster steps, but they aren’t helping him. He's good but he’s not faster than a car type of good. Now his brain is running. shoot the tire? That'll piss them off. Shoot the driver? they’ll just pull the emergency brakes. and before he even makes a choice. The car stops beside him, running is useless; they'll just shoot him down if he makes a move.

— Heeeeeey fellas — Hands up, breath shaky — Didn’t know you patrolled here by these times —

A teal leaves the vehicle, baton in hand — Don. Don don don… C’mon Donnie you know we can’t play this game forever, You run, we find you. — The voice got lost in murmurs — Won’t you make this easier? one last job. — The teal wore a shit eating grin like it was a pinstripe suit — We can just cull you right here if that’s too much trouble too Don. —

Four guys. Car, Probably half full tank? He can take them. dying would just be the consolation prize.

— C’mon guys we don’t gotta fight like this! just let me go and i’ll never be trouble — Donnie’s voice was shaky, dying was consolation prize but he was going for first fucking place.

— No can do Don. You’re a dead man walking. waltzing around with god knows how many names inside your little brain that could put down the entire precinct. So No we’re not letting you go — the teal nodded as he spoke — one last job that’s all you need —

— Well you said that last time you blue dumbfuck — Donnie says dropping his hands down as the teal pulled a gun out

— C’mon Donnie hands back up, don’t want to shoot out your other kneecap —

Time felt halted as Don shoulder bashed the teal into the car. gun went off hitting the wall behind him on the sidewalk. as the cop spat blood on the floor. and fell down. The other three in the car came out. Indigo, Olive and Rust. Guns in hands shouting.

Don hid behind the car door, two shots fired one hit the wall the other grazed his shoulder.

Donnie bit his tongue. blood pooling in there he showed his face on the window opening and spat at the olive’s face. Two shots, from him, both miss. hitting the ground kicking up dust, at this point the streets have already been emptied out. no one wants to be the one to witness four men killing one. but maybe that’s not what will happen.

As the olive started to wipe the blood clean from his face don jumped him. using him as a shield, Four more shots. two on the olive’s chest, one on his leg. Olive is down for the count, two to go.

— Cities Finest? Cities better off with crime runnin’ wild — Don says kicking the body forward. it fell down with a Horrible sound. as he jumped forward to the rust blood.

punch in the nose. blood dripping down the fracture, the rust put his hands on his nose to stop it but, no use was it. Don took the gun and two shots was all it took. The indigo was shaken by the situation, sweat dripping down his face, eyes wide like two dinner plates, and the man ran into a building to never be seen again.

The Teal stood up — Good job Don. But your lucky streak ends here you fucking piece of trash — Aiming a gun down at donnie’s face.

— Pick a god and pray. fish. — and he pulled the trigger to the worst noise possible: click The gun jammed.

— Now, I'm not gonna start wearing red on the new sweep. Or throwing dice at the casinos. But I am. going to do something better — don smiled taking off his gloves

— I’m gonna give you a fucking can of Whoopass — Don throws the teal on the ground. breaking his knuckles on that man’s face.

blood drips from his fists, spitting purples and two more police cars waltz in. amazing how bad nights can get worse, all you need now is a fucking morning to burn you into fried fish.

— Good Job big guy — Don hears the heavy steps followed by a third bump in the ground. The chief — But there’s nowhere to run now. Surrounded. Bleeding, you spent more than you had on your account on these low line fucks and now you’re ripe for the taking. And taking we are —

— C’mon old man. I’m past my prime. Why'd you want an old violet ex copper — his voice filled with more contempt than fear. — And either way i’m more of a liability, why would you want me back? —

And that, made the chief smile ear to ear, sharp yellowed teeth from smoking a pack a day for the last twenty sweeps.

— Oh You know why don. You’re the only one with the guts to walk into a jade cave. And kill trolls who didn’t do a thing wrong. You did it before. Why wouldn’t you do it again? — his voice sounded like a whisper in the last part. and before he finished speaking. Donnie was already stealing the officer’s clothing to put on, the gun and the badge he never delivered to the pigs. Maybe that’s why they’re tracking him.

And The chief did not lie. Hours later, far too close to morning for donnie to enjoy. popping tylenols for every speed bump the car went over, and every other bump as well, washing down with the flask. until the chief spoke.

— Now don. You’re going in with a team Swat type deal. Go in, kill every single fucking jade in sight. Drop the mother grub. and leave. They’re not culling mutants, and they’re not paying their protection dues to us. Which means. we knock them down and then you can go on your merry fucking way —

Donnie remained silent staring out the window, sun’ll be up in four to five hours. That leaves about three to finish the job and one to find shelter until the night.

— Cuz this Ain’t About To be pretty Donnie. — the chief spoke, his grin reflecting on the rear view mirror, as the vehicle came to a halt. in front of a forested cavern. no one could know it was there unless they were looking for it.

— That’s where you’re going Donnie. Have fun. Team’s lagging behind — the chief waved as Don walked into the cave.

[ Six Days Later, News Broadcast]

— And it is with heavy hearts that we announce the official report of the cave near the forest. Six Swat members died, No jades were found in the cave. And neither was a mother grub. The menaces that they are remain running free. Here we have the Chief of the Department to give a few words.---

The news anchor said. not a glimpse of truth behind her voice but they don’t pay her to speak the truth they just pay her to speak.

— Yes. little ray of moonlight. Yes they are still running wild. If you do not remember. It is the weak link that breaks the chain. And we all know that mutants are the weak link. But helping the weaklings are a gang of jades. and a violet blood — A photo of Donnie appear on screen

— No one knows his name, Everyone just calls him Don or Donnie. Alert the closest fleet official if you see this man. He is a menace. He has allowed sixteen unidentified jades to run free. alongside at least two dozen grubs. — and the feed’s cut off as don turns the TV off. arm in a splint and two dozen stitches scattered. With a jade taking care of him.

at least he’s free now. Isn’t he?

#long post #My writing #this was fun to do!

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hoxooster · 1 year

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Payday Q&A thing! M, T, X.

M is for MASKS: favourite mask/s?

I've got a few. I gotta give some love to two masks that I made:

Full Metal Doge and 80's Cowboy. The former is actually the first mask, material, pattern, and colors that I got when I downloaded PD2 on my da's computer. I'm known by this mask, and even though I haven't worn it in a long while (I've got a personal, 'wear as many of the masks as you can' challenge that I've been working on), I still love it dearly. As for 80's Cowboy, I just really liked how it came out when I first made it--it's probably one of my best masks, design-wise.

As for untampered with masks, I love these ones:

And, for a lil' bit of fun, these are my favorite PD:TH masks:

T is for TASER: most surprising moment/thing that happened in-game?

Hm. Well, I can think of a couple things. For PD:TH, a lot of 'em are just things dealing with my buddy, Wolfee. Like, him finally agreeing to accept my friend request (after much begging on my part), that time he found out that you can get stuck inside the police transport trucks on Green Bridge (and he stayed in there so I would get stuck and would have to fight my way out, the cheeky fucker)...

... how I earned my Steam username by impressing him (Diamond, 145, me and him with bots. Went loud 'cause the code didn't work. Him and the bots went into custody. I had to survive an assault wave, then dom 3 cops to get them back. He complimented me, and thus my Steam username was created and cemented.), and a bunch of other shit that I could spend hours talking about.

For PD2, there was the time that the GO Bank vault was just open--didn't know that that was a possibility until it happened to me...

... the time Wolfee showed that he cared about me enough to threaten one of our friends with bodily harm if I was downed...

... the multiple times I messed with Emma with the artifacts on Shadow Raid (she mains Chains and had never gotten his mask in a drop, then I got one after torturing her XD)...

... and some other things here 'n there that I love to talk about as part of my 'Old Man Stories' while in-call with people. I've made a lot of fond memories in this game, and I look forward to making a lot more, ya know?

Honestly, the most surprising thing is that you made Breakin' Feds a comfort heist for me, Red. Jeezum Crow, I hate it here.

X is for XENODIAGNOSIS: would you want Bain's disease to be curable and why/not?

No, because his death needed to happen. Simon Viklund wanted to leave OVERKILL, so he left to pursue other things and hangout with his best friend, and I'm happy for him.

As a Payday fan, this is devastating. Simon defined what Payday is--and I'm not joking. His portrayal of Bain guides players from a place of camaraderie and respect that no other contractor has ever even touched, and probably never will. His Cloaker dialogue is filled with memes and jokes at the expense of the fanbase, but, ya know, sometimes we all need to be taken down a few pegs whenever we get too cocky in-game. And his music? Jesus, his music gives both Paydays a feel that cannot be replicated--we've seen the examples that have been put forward by others, and they just don't compare. Now, I'm not sayin' that those songs ain't great, but they obviously just don't feel the same. Simon was the Heart and Soul of Payday, and his loss is felt deeply by those that know and hear the difference. It actually makes me very worried about PD3, 'cause it's just not gonna feel right without him there. But, it is what it is.

As a Payday player, I'm glad that it was handled in-game, so people wouldn't be left questioning just what in the hell happened to Bain. I hate that shit when that happens in TV shows--like, when characters disappear or get replaced by different actors without an explanation. Anyway, the decisions made on how to go about it were... strange, to put it lightly, but at least something was done. And, even though I hate bodyswapping narratives, I'm not peeved by Bain's ending. It was an alright send off, for what they could do on short notice in a sinking ship. Closure's a luxury that not all games have, and I'm glad that we got it with Payday's most important character.

And, as a decent person, I'm glad that they just killed off Bain in general. I dunno everything that went on behind the scenes at OVERKILL while Bo was imploding everything, but I can make some educated guesses. It wasn't good. For anyone. There's a lot of hurt there that's difficult to come back from, and, honestly, it's probably best if the OVERKILL team and Simon (and especially Ulf) don't work with each other again. Plus, it's probably just easier, logistically.

So, as much as I will miss Simon defining Payday, and Bain in his entirety, I'm glad that his disease wasn't presented in-game as curable and that his character was given a proper send off. He's more than earned his retirement and I hope that he enjoys laying mad pipe in the Oval Office.

#ask hoxooster a question #PAYDAY 2 #PD2 #PAYDAY 3 #PD3 #Bain #Player Experience #fan experience #screenshot #masks #long post warning

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katzenklavierr · 1 year

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hi there!! i was scavenging around for metal UTAU and related songs- because i'm working on reviving my UTAU of about 15 years, Suzu, and turning her into a metal/pop-hybrid idol of sorts lol (i also understand the risks of creating such a bank lmao- i'll take some tips if you have any, though!)- and i gotta say, Katsu's voice is Amazing. he's so crisp and clear, and his growls are Incredible <3 i am in awe at your voice work and raw talent. the thing is, i've had a hard time coming across any metal USTs, and i'm not the best at making them myself, so i was wondering if i could yoink your "catch me if you can" babymetal UST? i don't plan on uploading anything (she's in the beginnings of her Seventh revamp out of 0.5 complete banks, so i can't confidently say she'll ever be released, let alone any time soon💀) and i plan on using the UST primarily for testing, but if i do make a full cover, i'll absolutely let you know beforehand and give you full credit! it's totally ok if you don't want to share it (or can't, if you happened to have lost the file </3), but i figure i should ask rather than just sitting on my hands haha. tysm in advance!! also sorry abt my wordiness lol- have a great day & keep up the absolutely Astounding work!! <3

p.s. in case you don't feel like tossing your hard work to a complete stranger, do you have any songs+usts you'd recommend? particularly for testing metal singing? i'd love to hear your recommendations <3 p.p.s. fun fact abt suzu is that she would have had a 100% full bank in 2021, were it not for the fact that i started HRT around the same time that i started recording her most recent bank. she only had a few extra sounds that needed to be recorded (breaths and whatnot). then a year and some months passed. needless to say, my voice is currently about an entire octave lower than it was when i started 🥲 lol

First, thank you so much!! I agree there is a severe lack of metal UTAU and metal vocal synth material in general, so I'm always excited to see more of it. I'm currently testing out stuff for an English growl bank but that won't get done until my reclist is finalized lol. Katsu is more rock-oriented because that's just how my voice is, but I think a pop+metal oriented bank would suit itself well to post-hardcore and pop punk songs with harsh vocals.

I've made three USTs for harsh vocals (Catch Me If You Can as you've seen, as well as Vermin and Black Hole Artist by Utsu-P), but it's been awhile since I've looked at any of them so there might be cleanup to be done before I share them. That being said, I don't mind doing it for any you'd be interested in using, if you don't mind waiting a couple weeks (I'm pretty busy with IRL stuff rn). Other than my own stuff, the songs with existing USTs I can think of off the top of my head are Heart Sutra Hardcore and Assault Mirage.

Also I feel that wrt HRT. My voice dropped from being a tenor to a baritone and I had to completely retrain myself on how to sing. I ended up taking like a two year hiatus from working on my own VBs, but I feel like I'm actually a better vocalist now than I was before so it all worked out I suppose.

#Salem shout into the void #ask #wetpapert0wel #UTAU

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belfastinternship2024 · 2 months

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(Week 1, Day 2)

The first few days in Belfast were a mix of getting our bearings, sightseeing, and experiencing Irish charm.

We spent a lot of time just figuring out our way around – navigating those left-hand side streets was trickier than I thought! But it was all part of the adventure. One thing that really surprised me about Belfast was how many people crossed the street when the pedestrian light was red! Maybe it's because the lights here seem to take a bit longer to change compared to back home in Berlin. There, everyone waits religiously. Being a bit impatient myself, I have to admit, I found myself swept up in the Belfast crossing current a few times (everyday on the way to work).

Our first stop was Ormeau Park (Belfast's green oasis!), with little hills that offer surprising pockets of amazing views! This wasn't just any park, though. Opened in 1871, it holds the title of Belfast's oldest municipal park. We kicked off the day there with a five-minute workout on one of the outdoor gym things - gotta get that energy flowing!! After our mini-workout, we continued our exploration of the city.

We reached the Albert Bridge a little breathless (those park gym machines are no joke!), but the sight instantly took our breath away. The bridge itself is stunning, all wrought iron and Victorian elegance. We spent a good chunk of time snapping photos (guilty!) and admiring the views across the Lagan River.

Next, we headed to St. George's Market, a bustling indoor market that turned out to be a real gem. The vendors were so friendly, happy to chat and answer questions about their products and also offer us samples.

Big mistake! We totally forgot to get cash out before coming to the market, thinking everywhere would take cards. So, it was a long walk to the nearest ATM. Once we finally got some money, we were seriously surprised by how British banknotes look! It's crazy how each bank seems to print their own money with different designs. As someone from the EU, it was a bit of a shock – we're used to everything being the same!

So back at St. Goerge's Market we ended up with a huge bag full of Irish fudge which was too tempting to resist! There was so much to discover – fresh produce, local crafts, and all sorts of delicious treats. It was a great way to experience the sights, smells, and tastes of Belfast all at once. We even spotted some unique Game of Thrones themed jewelry. Seeing all the cool options made me want to buy something, but I ended up feeling overwhelmed and left a little empty-handed. Maybe next time!

Our next stop was the Beacon of Hope, a striking 19.5-meter-tall sculpture made of steel and bronze. It was erected in Thanksgiving Square in Belfast in 2007. The sculpture is a woman holding a ring aloft, and it is a symbol of hope and peace. It is the second-largest statue in Belfast, after the "Rise" sculpture at Broadway Roundabout. The locals have given it several nicknames, including "Nuala with the Hula", "Belle on the Ball", "Thing with the Ring", "Our Lady of Thanksgiving", and "Angel of Thanksgiving".

We were impressed by the size and beauty of the Beacon of Hope. It is a powerful symbol of hope and peace, and it is a reminder of the city's troubled past. We were glad to have had the opportunity to see it.

Afterwards we decided to follow the river and found a big sculpture of a fish called Big Fish. It's this giant salmon sculpture that Belfast is famous for. Apparently, it's good luck to kiss it for some reason? Well, not wanting to miss out on any potential good Belfast vibes, I gave that big metal fish a smooch! Let's just hope it works and the rest of the trip goes smoothly!

(insert picture of kissing that fish)

After smooching the Big Fish for good luck (gotta cover all the bases, right?), we set our sights on the Albert Memorial Clock. We'd seen it from afar a couple of times already, but it was definitely worth getting a closer look. It's this tall, beautiful clock tower right in the middle of a big roundabout – kind of like Belfast's own mini-Big Ben, but way less crowded (thankfully!). We snapped a few pics (obvs!).

All that walking and sightseeing had built up a major appetite. Luckily, our next stop was the perfect solution: Common Market, a super popular food hall right in the city center. It's a giant indoor food court with about 8 different vendors to choose from. We all went for gyros (score for veggie options too!), and let me tell you, it hit the spot perfectly.

The atmosphere was electric, as it was game day: Manchester United vs. Manchester City. The crowd was wild, and we cheered along with the other fans. We felt like we were really experiencing a slice of British culture. A nice way of having our first meal together.

Leaving Common Market, we stumbled upon something really cool – two giant statues that stopped us in our tracks. They were these massive figures, a red one and a blue one, each perched high on a chair balanced on a long, angled metal arm. It looked kind of like a scene straight out of a pop art painting! We did a quick Google search and found out they were called "The Calling" by this artist named Paddy McCann. Apparently, they're kind of a Belfast landmark, and it's supposed to represent people reaching out and connecting with each other. We thought that was a pretty cool message, especially after feeling so welcomed by everyone here.

After that artsy detour, we found ourselves drawn deeper into the heart of the city – the Cathedral Quarter. We kind of got lost in the best way possible, wandering through narrow alleys and streets lined with the most adorable pubs and shops. It was like stepping back in time with all the old brick buildings and cobblestone streets. Every corner we turned seemed to hold a hidden gem, a quirky little bookstore or a cozy pub with overflowing flower boxes.

Some of these pubs had the weirdest names I'd ever seen! We're talking places like "The Dirty Onion" and "The Crown Liquor Saloon" – not exactly your typical pub names. It just added to the whole quirky charm of the area. We didn't have time to go in for a pint that day (we were saving our stomachs for another night!), but we definitely made a mental note of a few that we wanted to check out later.

#belfast #northern ireland #uk #internship abroad #titanic museum

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knowlessman · 8 months

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okay, so iirc they rescued the nerf-dart kid (…the kid they were making the darts-that-nerf out of) who is actually a time anomaly kid and everyone's in the hospital. oh shit, and mr future sight is dead, and also maybe all might isn't going to die (he's totally gonna buy it in either the season finale or next season), anyway bhna s4e15-19

oh fuck, and the league of villains tortured overhaul and like took his hands I think. heh, he turned into a resident evil boss but then got ethan winters'd. it's like, a pun or something

new OP, huh. anime is so weird about when it gets new OP's… wait, is this an old one? they've had that splash image or whatnot at the end before, with the band instruments. beh. go figure

hm. slendervest going rogue?

sudden Firefly-ass guitar riff o_0

"have you heard rumors of a wild man living in this area?" don't tell me you're banking on bigfoot to come rescue you -- oh my gawd it is bigfoot. well, biggerfoot. cept he seems to be made of rock -- "one of All for One's faithful servants… Gigantosquatchia"

(togata) "I have what Nighteye predicted with his Foresight! I know I'll get my Quirk back!" …this is pessimistic, but you have what he told you when he used it. still, it's good to see somebody talk about "I'm not going to cry" without it being because of toxic masculinity or appearances or something; like, togata actually feels hope and in any case believes in Nighteye's ideal of, like… idfk, nontoxic positivity? hard to describe

heh. figures bigfoot would get away

(bakugo and todoroki at remedial license training thingy) oh boy, endeavor has something to say -- HAHAHAHA DAMN RIGHT, HANG UP ON HIS ASS ZUKO

huh. forgot about Ed from the dodgeball arc. aughta be interesting.

…uh-oh, is this vampire girl again? : /

and mr meatball. I guess meatball is double-d

(back view of shady characters) oh shit it's the league of villai - oh nvm that's just principal tiredman from the dodgeball arc

(new end theme) who the fuck is this guy, why does he have all might's hair. don't try and tell me this is all might, all might's eyes have no wossname, sclera I think? all might is a bionicle, this is just a normal guy. cosplayer maybe

pfft, forgot ed's backstory was that endeavor mr incredible'd him 'XD like, some celebrities are just gonna be dicks about it, okay? attention is power, and power corrupts

okay so yeah this is how vampire girl gets a bigger part in the show then. …shit, she must have the real camie in a cellar somewhere, that sucks : / -- "but because of her foggy memory of the days before the exam…" so it could not be knife-girl? …it's gotta be knife-girl tho. -- wait shit they know that vampire girl replaced her??? …the league - I mean the cops know knife girl's quirk, right? maybe the league guessed that they would've figured it out anyway, and - but whatever tests they did on camie to find the anesthetics probably would've revealed the switch if vampire girl was impersonating here agin, right? fuck dude idfk, I give up

(orca doing a drill sergeant routine) 'XD wtf did the mangaka watch full metal jacket before writing this bit

…I guess babysitting will teach you patience if nothing else will? or at least that's the thinking here?

okay, bakugo and the kids have baited each other into fighting now, looks like lawsuit o'clock (to say nothing of camie)

the whole overarching "the age of heroes is over, it's the age of villains now" theme is, like… idk this is just a weird show

quirk… singularity… doomsday. …okay, I guess that's a thing now??? (are we gonna get eugenics-y about this, I thought the show was being pretty good about not doing that)

"is this bad? are you saying I'm just sitting here watching things get bad and doing nothing?" YES, orca, most of these superpowers are lethal fucking weapons, there are no responsible goddamn adults in this entire show -- also why are your eyes so fucking scary, do real whales have sarlacc pits where their eyes should be?

"the rest of you also did a good job" you mean the six or so kids in this class whose names and even vague deals we still don't know? only like four characters even got screentime

"strange things started happening" : / already thought laserguts was kind of annoying. is… ? considering Magne, I've got a bad feeling about this -- (the literal next scene) ugh, fucking hell, yeah this is gonna suck -- ("I know") I already have assumptions about how this's gonna be taken and how it's gonna turn out to have been intended and like, okay, if I'm right, it's stupid in a way that could be funny but it's also still creepy and laserguts is still officially not positive representation

meanwhile midnight is teaching a school class while carrying a… what, cat o nine tails? a fucking bdsm whip, idk. while carrying that around. this is such a weird fucking show

aoyama I hate you. weewoo tier. gonna call the bad-lgbt-rep police on your ass. whaddaya mean lgbt police is a contradiction in terms, fuck off

-- do I need to know what that french phrase is that he carved into it? …nah, I don't. I really don't.

"it's because we both have quirks that mess up our bodies!" …I guess that could've been worse? thank fuck it's over, at least

school festival stuffs. idk, no comment

(visiting eri, flashing back to the whole brouhaha of last arc) chisaki was a good villain. he made you want to hate him for, like, real reasons; he wasn't just directionless evil for its own sake or bizarrely pretentious, niche evil with incomprehensible motivations and its head up its own ass.

…who is this sean connery looking fucker. is he just here to try and do some clownery at the festival and get clowned on? ugh, fine, guess I'll watch the next one and find out -- ah. a libertarian. or something.

"the school festival is one month away!" …the fuck? y'all made it sound like you had a day. hat n clogs even said the deadline to figure out what you were gonna do would be like eighteen hours or so after you found out there'd be a festival.

aye, teachin him how to use… okay well I can't call it that… uh, the paper football attack. the finger gun. teachin im how to use that without breakin his fingers. and just in time to show it off against mr connery, I imagine.

…huh. looks like the festival arc takes up the entire rest of the season tho, so I'mma leave that for next time

#knowless watches bnha

0 notes

eepy-pleepy · 3 years

Text

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

430 notes · View notes

mediocre-writerr · 3 years

Text

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending.

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers.

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally.

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,”

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head.

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled.

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside.

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back.

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh.

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?”

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered.

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,”

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank.

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!”

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,”

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him.

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!”

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!”

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered.

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry.

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly.

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely.

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,”

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else.

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake.

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time.

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse.

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,”

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?”

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!”

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe.

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive.

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter.

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!”

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs.

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t.

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?”

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently.

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?”

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,”

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,”

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,”

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out.

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked.

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,”

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran.

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”.

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!”

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!”

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,”

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left.

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,”

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live.

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed.

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,”

“Of course,”

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears, “Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?”

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off.

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,”

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,”

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her.

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers.

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,”

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!”

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie.

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair.

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s.

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

#jennifer jareau imagines #jennifer jareau x reader #jj criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

404 notes · View notes

neonacity · 3 years

Text

Black Daisies: Chapter 1

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23.

Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.

TW: violence, death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip.

Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here--they’re all sweetiepies that need to be protected!

That’s all! Enjoy!

Slight static sounded from the earpiece as the woman behind a computer pressed a small button to activate it. A few miles away from her, the same low hum could be heard from the ear of a young man as the line came alive. The boy barely moved from the shadows where he was crouching, his head twitching just a little bit at the alert.

“Haechan, target just entered from the main hall, door A,” a voice sounded from the small electronic bud attached to his ear. His eyes lifted to look at the shadowy pillars above his head where a quick glint of light confirmed that another boy hidden there heard the same words.

“Got it, noona. Plan C?”

“Plan C. Where are Jisung and Chenle?”

“Two floors down from us. Jaemin’s with them. Renjun’s done with the wires.”

“Jeno, you good?”

Up above the rafters from Haechan’s head, a darker shade of shadows moved. The metallic glint flashed again, followed by a low sigh that could be heard from the earpieces of the two people involved in the conversation.

“So I can’t use my gun again?”

“No. I already told you, right? What’s family rule number 2?” The female voice answered from the other end of the line, a tinge of laughter lacing her tone. Haechan giggled softly from beneath the rafters, enjoying the banter.

“....we don’t shoot people in the head and kill them.”

“That’s right.” From her screen, the woman’s eyes followed the movements of their targets as the man boarded the elevator that would take him straight to the penthouse of the high rise building. Her nose wrinkled a bit as she watched him wound his arms around two giggling women who look half his age.

Disgusting.

“...there’s something we can do though…”

Haechan tightened the scruff of his gloves as he heard the soft hum of the elevator climbing closer to where he and Jeno are. He smirked slightly to himself as the welcome ding from the penthouse reverberated just one floor below them.

“We put them in their right place.”

“Good luck, boys.”

A soft buzzing sound indicated the earpiece temporarily being turned off the same time loud explosions sounded from the floor and roof of the penthouse.

“Noona!”

I whipped around on my creaky swivel chair to face the group that just bounded through the door, wide grin plastered on my face. The blonde boy who called my name closed the distance between us with his long, excited strides, cheeks plump from his smile.

“Look what I got you! Pretty nice, eh?” He asked with pride as he took a seat beside me, opening his palm to show a blood red stone nestled there. I moved a little forward to squint at it before gingerly picking it up.

“Red diamond. I think two carats, at least. Wow, that’s impressive, Chenle! Thank you.”

The boy’s grin widened as he turned to the others who just settled on the scattered chairs and bean bags across the plain cement floor.

“See? I told you she’d like it!”

“We almost got busted because he wanted to take it.” Another boy with light purplish hair piped up from one of the bean bags on the ground. It’s adorable how only half of his body could fit on it, leaving him with no choice but to splay his long legs on the floor.

“Did not.”

“Did yes.”

“Shut up, Jisung. You’re just jealous I’m the one who got it for her tonight.”

I chuckled from my seat, rolling the princess cut diamond against my palm. The kids always do this--if it’s not Chenle who is giving gifts from their little rendezvous, it was the others. It was a sweet act, at least if anyone counts out the fact that it came from ransacking a high profile businessman’s penthouse.

“Who wants some ramen? I’m starving.” A black-haired boy asked from across the room where a counter was set-up to serve as the headquarters’ kitchen. Five heads whipped up and gave various forms of yes, making him turn towards the group, one hand on his hip.

“Yah, Lee Haechan. Help me cook.”

A groan sounded from the leather couch as the boy in question winced at the request.

“But I’m tired. I detonated two bombs today!”

“And I had to unlock three high-security safes. Come on.”

I chuckled as I watched Haechan pull himself up from the couch, his boots still on. Three consecutive beeps from the monitor behind me made me turn back towards the table again, fingers tapping over some keys to review the message.

“Noona, how about you? You want some?”

“No, thanks, Jaemin. Just ate,” I flashed him a quick smile before turning to read the notification on the screen. Slowly, the corners of my lips lifted into a full grin as my eyes finished scanning the words.

“127’s back from Tokyo. They got the goods well and secured.”

“Whoah, really? I gotta ask Mark-hyung if he was able to get me my favorite chips!” A boy with black and white hair said as he swiped his phone up from the back of his pants pocket to send a quick message. Beside him, Jeno propped his head up from one of the love chairs, looking at me.

“Who sent the message?”

“Doyoung.”

“Did he--”

“P.S. Tell Jeno I got him the silencer he wants,” I read the closing note on the message with an amused eye roll and a smile. Jeno gave an excited whoop from behind me, clearly excited over his new toy.

I quickly shot a reply to the message, making sure to give them a quick update from my end. A green logo flashed after I hit send, a special kind of cyber filter that automatically deletes all traces of conversation that passes through my computer at my command. My eyes registered the familiar three letters before it flickered and glitched to black.

NCT.

For anyone living a mundane life, those three letters might be senseless. However, it’s a different case altogether for anyone who is in any shape or form involved with the underground. It’s a name that is often said in low whispers of reverence… or spat with spite. Whichever of the two, the name itself only means one thing to those who know it: the top mafia group ruling the underground of Seoul--if not the whole of Korea.

The “family,” as I’d like to call it, is divided into three different smaller sub-groups of varying specializations and activities. First is 127, the primary group in power over Seoul. The unit specializes in drug dealings, assassinations, and smuggling of firearms, and its members are also the ones managing the many businesses (both legal and illegal) falling under the protection of NCT. As the group with the most experienced members, they are also the ones who often go across countries like Japan where they also have their own hold. Limitations and Prohibitions: none.

The second group; Dream. Despite having the youngest members, the sub-group also has its own chokehold over the city of Seoul. Specialization: Heists and Ambushes. It doesn’t matter if it is a high-tech bank or a high-walled fortress like Alcatraz--once Dream sets its sights on a bounty, they’ll make sure to get it. Limitations and Prohibitions: no killing allowed.

Finally, the third cluster: WayV; the current ruling crime group of China. Specialization: Organized Cyber crimes and biological warfare . While the sub-group has its original roots in Korea, it didn’t have any problem taking over Beijing’s underground in a few years time. They are considered the visionaries of the family--always one step ahead when it comes to anything technology touches and influences. Limitations and Prohibitions: none.

I leaned back against the chair and gave a soft sigh. Compared to the others, I don’t have as much exposure to the so-called thrills of the job. Still, I do admit that being the eyes and ears of the whole group is not a leisurely walk in the park. It’s been a few months of being temporarily assigned to Dream, but with 127 back, work will surely double again in no time. Not that I’m complaining with how well the job pays, of course--I did get a blood red diamond today, after all--but things sure can get tough sometimes.

Lifting my arms up, I gave myself a well-deserved stretch before kicking back from the desk. The smell of ramen hit my nose, making me smile. Another day, another job well done.

“Hey Jaemin, changed my mind about that ramen. I think I’ll have it after all.”

Chapter 2: Overture

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docockbrainrot · 3 years

Text

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

#otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #fanfiction #otto octavius #doc ock

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

Beach Day!

Masterlist~

As requested by an anon, The Half Demon kids get to have their beach day! Please enjoy!

‘‘Twas a summer’s day in the Devildom, and school was out for the next couple of months, what else was there to do other than have a fun little beach vacation?

“Do we have towels?”

“Check.”

“Umbrellas?”

“Yep.”

“Beach toys?”

“Uh huh.”

L!MC and Lucifer were running through the long list of items as the rest of the family loaded everything into their (several) cars. Mammon grunted and shoved one of three umbrellas into a gap in the piles of luggage, they were all packing the rapidly filling car like they were playing a game of Tetris from hell.

“Ya know, you two can try and, I dunno, help a little?!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and looked up from his list. “I am helping, Mammon. I’m making sure this doesn’t end up like the last family vacation we took.”

“What happened last time?” The soft voice of A!MC piped up, they were carrying roughly four different carryon bags into one of the cars.

“Mammon forgot to pack sunscreen during our last little visit to a human world beach and we all got horrifically sunburned. That’s why this year we’ll be visiting a proper Devildom beach.” Lucifer explained.

“That stupid mistake nearly cost me my perfect skin.” Asmo grumbled, A!MC patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t feel too bad, dad. You look great!”

“Oh little butterfly,” Asmo patted A!MC on their head, much to the kid’s delight. “Go on~.”

“Hey pop!” Mammon’s head whirled around as he looked for the source of the voice. “THINK FAST!”

A duffel bag slammed into the side of Mammon’s head, knocking him into the side of the car.

“What the hell M!MC?!”

The little culprit gave their dad a fanged megawatt smile and shrugged. “I said think fast.”

“M!MC, he can’t think fast, he doesn’t have a brain.” Asmo smirked over at Mammon, who not so graciously flipped him off. A blast of water from wiped both the smirk and some of the makeup off Asmo’s face.

“Whoops,” M!MC lowered their water gun. “Misfire.”

Lucifer massaged his temples as he watched this complete and utter chaos unfold. This was ridiculous, he turned to L!MC. “I refuse to subject you to this, I don’t was CPS to come knocking. You are riding with Lord Diavolo and I.”

“Wooop!” L!MC cheered, then paused. “Was I not riding with you two before now?”

——————

After arriving and unpacking, everyone set out to the beach, per Lucifer’s totally reasonable beach rules, no cameras within eight feet of the beach. Asmo had to compromise and take his Devilgram selfies at Diavolo’s villa in the five minute window of time before everyone set out for the beach.

While the group made their way to the beach, M!MC proudly presented their shiny new metal detector to the crowd of not too impressed family members. Well, everyone but Mammon, he was hyped as all hell to try and find buried treasure.

As M!MC and A!MC lagged behind and chattered aimlessly, something flew right into M!MC’s face. Reeling at the sudden loss of their sight, M!MC’s hands flew to their face and peeled the thing off of them. A…piece of paper..?

No, not a piece of paper, it was a map! Well, half of a map!

“Woah… Pop! Check it!” M!MC waved the piece of paper in the air. “What if we use this to find treasure or something?”

Mammon’s eyes practically sparkled as he swiped the map from M!MC. “Kid, we’re gonna be rich. Not the lame kinda rich either, we’ll be… multiple yacht rich!”

“Oh geez…” A!MC murmured.

By the time the entire group had gotten to the actual beach, Mammon and M!MC had already had the layout of their fabulous Hollywood mansion planned out and were busily describing the kinds of cars they wanted to own. Armed with only half a treasure map and a metal detector, the two set off down the beach.

L!MC, Belphie, and Satan snickered like a bunch of kids as they set up their new pink unicorn floaty. It was just perfect for just slightly ticking off Lucifer. A!MC hummed happily as they unpacked all their sand toys, perfect for making a sand-empire! The rest of the adults set up the umbrellas and beach chairs and practically deflated when all the work was finished.

Hang on- where was Levi- OH! There he was. He had ran right into the water and was petting Lotan. Man… Lotan was fucking massive.

“Hey, Luke,” L!MC called out. “Why are you wearing water wings? You know those things don’t work, right?”

“H-huh?” Luke tilted his head in confusion. Like a chihuahua- “What do you mean?”

“Well, water wings aren’t like life jackets, water wings only keep your arms out of water. If you start to drown, those aren’t helping.” L!MC dutifully explained. “There are documented cases in the human world of kids drowning with their arms still afloat because of the water wings.”

Luke was having such a good day forty five seconds prior, now he was petrified.

——————

“Ah, this is the life, right Sea Monster Levi?” L!MC leisurely floated around on their giant pink unicorn floatie as Levi swam around them.

Levi couldn’t exactly speak, but the terrifying eldritch shriek of delight was enough of an answer.

“See, you should go outside more often, the ocean is outside, fresh air is outside,” L!MC continued to list lovely things that just happened to be outside until Lotan poked four of his heads above water. “Lotan’s outside,”

Levi grumbled and slammed his tail into the water, sending a massive wave over to L!MC.

“Fuck.”

Those were L!MC’s last words before the wave crashed into them and tipped over the floatie, leaving them angrily starfish floating in the water. “You fucking hikikomori.”

—————

A!MC carefully placed their bucket full of sand onto the ground upside down and slowly pulled the bucket away. Perfect! That made a great castle tower! The sand-city that A!MC had concocted could put any city to shame, there was a town hall, a bank, a museum, and multiple construction projects headed by Luke. Well, the chihuahua wasn’t doing too well with his castle-building.

“Aww…” Luke pouted as his castle crumbled. “I ruined it…”

“You should add a bit of water to the sand, Luke.” A!MC said as they carefully placed some seashell decorations around their castle tower. “It’ll help stop your towers from crumbling.”

Luke vehemently shook his head. “There’s no way I’m going near that water. Not after what L!MC said…”

“Luke, L!MC’s just being a butt, you won’t drown-” A!MC was unceremoniously cut off by Lotan rising from the depths of the ocean and L!MC’s squawk of protest when he began to bat their unicorn floatie around.

“Y-yeah… I won’t drown, I’ll be eaten by a sea monster…” Luke shuddered.

“A!MC, I’m living here.” Belphie laid his towel out a little ways away from the sand-city and collapsed into a snoring heap on the sand.

“Great! A new citizen!” A!MC smiled and clapped their hands. “Beel, are you going to join us?”

Beel took a large bite out of a watermelon and sat down next to Belphie. “Yeah, I’m going to live here too.”

“We’ve got a real kingdom now!”

—————

The metal detector beeped for the thousandth time that day and M!MC and Mammon were beginning to get tired. They had found a total of 45 cents and a bottle cap, not the heaps of pirate treasure their map promised.

“Alright old man, dig.” M!MC lazily motioned towards the spot in the sand where the metal detector beeped.

“Why do I gotta dig?” Mammon whined. “You do it this time!”

“I’m holding the metal detector!” M!MC snapped. “Lookit! This shit’s heavy!”

“UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH.” Mammon dropped to his knees and began to dig, unearthing a second bottle cap.

“Have our intrepid treasure hunters struck gold yet?” The taunting voice of Satan wormed its way into M!MC and Mammon’s ears as they both rolled their eyes.

“Why do you care, Satan?” M!MC sneered. “Shouldn’t you be off waxing philosophical about the demon condition or some other pretentious shit right now?”

Satan scoffed and shook his head. “So you haven’t found anything, shocker.”

“Ya didn’t answer the question, Satan.”

“Fine, you two dumbasses forgot to bring water after you immediately ran to go find your treasure.” Satan chucked two metal water bottles at Mammon, both of which hit him in the face. “So where’s your little treasure map?”

M!MC grumbled and pulled the map out of their pocket. “Here.”

Satan raised an eyebrow as he looked over the map, then looked back up at Mammon and M!MC. “I’d expect this level of idiocy from Mammon, but not you, M!MC.”

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” M!MC and Mammon shouted in unison.

Satan flipped the map around so it was facing the pair, he pointed at the X. “You’re supposed to be going that way,” Satan pointed back towards where they had set up the towels and umbrellas.

“…shit.” Mammon murmured. “I swear if we just wasted two fuckin’ hours on this-”

“Don’t blame me! I’m a mathematician, not a fucking geographer!” M!MC hissed.

“Actually, cartographers are the ones that make maps-”

“SHUT UP SATAN!”

——————

“Ugh… I hate the ocean now…” L!MC trudged over to Lucifer and plopped themselves down next to him. “0/10. Next year, can we go somewhere with significantly less seaweed?”

Lucifer wordlessly pulled a clump of sea-gunk out of L!MC’s hair and dropped it on the sand next to them. The fucking gunk-thing then began to MOVE-

“…is that alive?��

“Probably.”

L!MC grabbed the thing and threw it as hard as they could into the water. “I’m not allowing that eldritch terror the privilege of evolving.”

Lucifer chuckled and shook his head. “This is karma for the unicorn floaty.”

“That wasn’t even all my idea!” L!MC hugged their knees to their chest and grumbled. “Where’s Belphie, Satan and M!MC’s karma?!”

“I’m sure it’ll come soon.”

“Now would be nice…” L!MC growled.

“If you’re going to go sit and whine for the rest of the day you can walk back to the villa by yourself.”

“Ugh!” L!MC threw up their hands and walked away. “So Belphie can angst all he wants but I can’t?! This is bullshit!”

“LANGUAGE!”

—————

A!MC’s burgeoning kingdom had grown in population in the last few hours; Barbatos and Diavolo had moved in and were gleefully helping out with the construction projects (well, Dia was gleeful, Barbatos was standing off to the side holding lemonade), Simeon had joined in and was making a moat, and L!MC was designing the flag.

“Our walls will be impenetrable!” Diavolo proclaimed as he continued to reinforce the sand-walls. “No one would dare invade us!”

“Where’s our sand-army? I call dibs on being sand-general.” L!MC raised their hand. “Luke, you can be a sand soldier.”

“Huh?”

“Here’s your sand-sword.”

“L!MC this is driftwood…”

“Hit a bitch with it.”

“There will be no hitting of any bitches.” Simeon gently took the driftwood from Luke and chucked it into the ocean.

“Lame…” L!MC rolled their eyes.

A little while into the kingdom building, A!MC surveyed their land with a proud smile. Every little building was adorably decorated with shells and pebbles, the roads were laid out perfectly, the castle was stable… Ah. Perfection!

A familiar trio sauntered over looking down at their map and occasionally back up at the surrounding beach until they stopped right outside the moat outside of A!MC’s kingdom. Satan, Mammon, and M!MC looked up at the group and pointed their shovel and metal detector at them.

“Hey kiddos, and… not kiddos. We’re gonna need ya to move over. There’s treasure in the area and we gotta dig!” Mammon proclaimed, standing up straight and putting a hand on his hip.

“Uh… no?” A!MC sat down on their beach chair, but to them, it was more like a throne. “We spent forever building this, we aren’t just going to let you destroy it.”

“Can’t you build somewhere else?” M!MC waved their hand to a place farther down the beach that was just littered with holes from M!MC and Mammon’s treasure hunting. “Couldn’t have taken that long.”

“Are you stupid or just ignorant?” L!MC hissed, protectively moving in front of the sand-wall next to Diavolo. “This took literal hours. You three can piss off.”

“L!MC, don’t be dramatic.” Satan rolled his eyes, then looked to the adults. “Come on guys, this may actually lead to something historical. Can you guys move out?”

“Uh… fuck off?” Belphie sleepily looked up from his towel. “We were here first. Finders keepers.”

“Yeah,” Beel paused his job of helping clean up the toys and buckets. “Belphie napped here, this spots been claimed.”

Barbatos and Diavolo nodded in agreement.

“A!MC has claimed this land, therefore, it’s their kingdom.” Diavolo said.

“Guys, this ain’t a joke! There’s actual treasure here!” Mammon waved the map in the air.

“That doesn’t matter. our sandcastles, our rules.” Luke crossed his arms and huffed.

“Oh bullshit! Move over! Money and treasure is under your city and we’ll take it by force if we have to!” M!MC crossed his arms and glared.

“Really now~?” L!MC cooed, slamming their fist against their open palm. “Fucking try us.”

————

A fight would have broken out if it weren’t for Lucifer calling for everyone to eat. Everyone sat down on their towels and angrily munched on their macaroni salad and sandwiches.

Team Treasure hunter (it was generous to call them a team considering there was only three of them) were forming a plan to try and get passed the much larger Team Sandcastle. M!MC and Satan bounced ideas off of each other while Mammon stole everyone’s potato chips.

“So, we need to lure at least some of them away… but how?” M!MC stuck their hand into the much reduced bowl of chips and took out a fistful.

“Mmm…” Satan murmured. “Well, there’s a thief in our midst…”

M!MC knitted their eyebrows in confusion, then began to nod in understanding. “Ah… and we have someone very quick…”

Both Satan and M!MC turned to Mammon, who was polishing off the chips and counting their metal detector money. He stopped mid chew and tilted his head.

“What are ya lookin’ at?”

Over with Team Sandcastle, L!MC carefully traced Belphie’s hand onto a piece of paper with a vindictive smirk on both their faces.

“What are you doing?” Luke asked as he bit into his kebab.

“It’s an official declaration of war.” L!MC quickly finished up the tracing and proudly showed the picture of Belphie’s middle finger to the assembled team. “I think it’s very clear and concise.”

Simeon slapped a palm to his forehead as Luke let out a gasp.

“L!MC! That’s so vulgar and awful-” Luke’s irate yapping went completely ignored.

“It’s a very nice picture.” Beel calmly observed, turning over the paper in his hands.

“Enough about the declaration!” A!MC stood up and put their hands on their hips. “We need to take action immediately! I’m not letting our sand kingdom fall into their hands!”

“We know that A!MC, but we need to at least give them some kind of warning that we’re going to beat them into the ground.” L!MC said.

“They got their warning. Now is not the time for being polite, now is the time for curb stomping.”

“Is it just me,” Belphie leaned over to Beel and cartoonishly whispered. “Or is A!MC getting really intense about this?”

—————

Team Treasure Hunter’s battle plan did not go as well as they thought it would. Satan and M!MC did not factor the fact that Mammon would be stealing something and then running in sand, and next to no one can properly run in fluffy beach sand, what this poor narrator is trying to say is that Mammon got football tackled immediately because he couldn’t run after he stole something as a distraction. Oh well… at least the sand was soft…

Team Sandcastle’s superior numbers meant superior ideas, and one of their ideas was for A!MC to politely ask some of the beach dwelling creepy crawlies to attack the other team. Well uh… toes were pinched that day…

“Fools,” A!MC sat straighter in their beach chair. “All of them.”

“I’m loving the supervillain vibes, A!MC, but-”

“But nothing!” A!MC cut L!MC off with a huff. “I’m not a supervillain either!”

“Sounds like something a supervillain would say.” Belphie snickered, only to be blasted in the face with a water gun. A!MC was turning on their own people…

“Alright, everyone who dares to doubt me gets the water gun.” A!MC sneered. “My kingdom won’t fall!”

The kingdom fell.

One giant wave caused by Lotan and Levi playing in the water nearby crashed onto the beach and absolutely flattened the detailed sand kingdom. A!MC slowly moved their hair out of their eyes and turned to Lotan and Levi in the water.

“You… you…” A!MC growled, a tick forming in their right eye. “YOU SHUT-IN PIECE OF [Hello, this is the narrator, I’m very sorry but I cannot repeat what little A!MC said here. I hope you all can find it in your hearts to forgive them for this outburst, their kingdom just got destroyed after all.]”

Simeon vaulted forward and covered Luke’s ears while the rest of the group on the beach stared in wide eyed shock as their sweet little A!MC cussed out two giant sea monsters. This was… not what they expected from their beach trip…

Beel quickly recovered from his shock and scooped A!MC up into his arms. A!MC didn’t seem to care all that much as they continued to kick and scream profanity at the giant sea monsters. Beel lumbered over to Asmo and handed the screeching A!MC to him.

“This is yours.”

“…Beel dear,” Asmo looked at the practically feral child that had managed to shift into their demon form, then looked to Beel. “Are you sure?”

——————

Ever the opportunists, Team Treasure Hunter managed to dig in the area where the sand kingdom once stood. After roughly an hour of digging, Mammon struck something… wooden. Hmm…

“Hey I uh… think I found somethin’!”

“Really?” M!MC exclaimed. “Lemme see! Let’s get it out!”

“Allow me,” Diavolo motioned for everyone to move away and leaned in. He yanked a massive treasure chest out of the sand like it was nothing and plopped it onto the beach. “Oh! It is a treasure chest! How novel!”

Mammon jumped forward and yanked the chest open, inside was an absolute mess of glimmering gold and jewelry.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT.” Lucifer’s booming voice stopped Mammon dead in place. Everyone’s heads swivelled to look at him. “It’s probably cursed gold, you idiots.”

“As much as I hate to agree with Lucifer, we should at least check before we touch anything.” Satan crossed his arms and grumbled.

The gold was hella cursed and basically useless. No one went back to the villa happy.

———————

A!MC sulkily kicked off their shoes and flopped backwards onto their bed. They stared half-vacantly up at the ceiling, they were so tired despite the fact that they hadn’t even gone swimming… they had spent their entire day building that stupid sandcastle kingdom…

M!MC flopped down next to them and let out an explosive sigh. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry about your sandcastle stuff…”

A!MC sighed and shrugged. “Yeah… sorry about your treasure…”

“Yeah… so far this trip blows.”

L!MC flopped down next to A!MC and practically deflated.

“What’s wrong with you?” M!MC asked, rolling over onto their side to look at their cousin.

“I’m in mourning…” L!MC grumbled, holding up a piece of pink stretchy plastic. “Lotan ate my unicorn floaty.”

“Aww… I’m sorry L!MC.” A!MC patted them on the shoulder. “Let’s go fight Lotan and Levi for revenge.”

“A!MC. I’m grieving, not suicidal.” L!MC said seriously, then their face melted into a grin as they began to giggle. “Dummy…”

“I’m not a dummy! I think we might have a chance!”

“Yeah, a chance of gettin’ eaten!” M!MC snickered.

“Okay… maybe…” A!MC giggled.

“Hey guys,” Simeon knocked on the door and poked his head in. “We’re making a fire for s’mores, you all better hurry up before Beel gets to everything.”

The three kids stuck their thumbs up and got ready to go. S’mores fix everything!

————

Author’s note: Okay, back in like… May, I promised I’d write a beach day episode for these characters, and it’s finally done!!

The whole sandcastle war is something that actually happened when I went to a summer camp ^.^

It was less about digging for treasure and more about who had the best sandcastles, and I shit you not, a wave slammed into the rival team’s sandcastle. It was funny as S H I T. HA! TAKE THAT RIVAL TEAM! MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE MADE YOUR CITY SO CLOSE TO THE WATER!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #Obey me MC #Obey me Fic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Satan #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Leviathan #obey me beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Luke #Obey me Diavolo

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