#like a wild animal‚ running up people's bodies and fucking them up while he snarls and pants. an acquired taste perhaps but i dig it

[msmischief101]

You've been doing all Steo. How bout some Briles?? Fluff + Smut. Stiles being pinned against something baring his neck/throat to Brett...

And go....

OH 👀 Thank youu! 💖

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"If you tell me again that we can't do this, I'm going to kick you somewhere you're not going to enjoy!" Stiles snaps.

Brett turns around slowly, narrowing his eyes just enough to look threatening. And he does look threatening. Also hot, but Stiles is so not going to say either out loud. Especially not right now. "You wanna run that by me again?"

"I said, fuck no." Stiles raises his chin and crosses his arms. Behind him, he can feel Kira duck into his shadow. Her self-preservation skills are clearly superior, but Stiles isn't going to back down to a wolf with an attitude problem. Where'd they end up if he did?

"You two—" he gestures between Stiles and Kira "— are not going to get involved."

"Oh, because you say so?"

"Yes, because I say so!"

Kira clears her throat. "You know, maybe we should stay out of this," she says in a low voice, and it's not like she doesn't have a point. Because she does have a point. So does Brett. They're about to hunt down a pack of werecoyotes, and as human as they might look, werecoyotes are nothing like werewolves. They're wild creatures, drowning in their animal instincts. If they see a fox, they will hunt said fox, no matter what.

But Stiles isn't about to stand by and watch the people he cares about walk into battle alone. "No, we're not going to stay out of this just because Talbot over there thinks a pair of red eyes gives him the authority."

Lori clears her throat. "But that's... that's exactly how this works."

"Out," Brett snarls, prowling towards Stiles. "All of you, out." The pack scatters almost immediately, and the door falls shut behind them the second Brett grabs his shirt and pins him against the wall. "If I tell you to stay," he growls, pressing Stiles against the wall with his whole body, "you will stay, got it? You don't get any extra cookies for being my boyfriend."

Stiles doesn't know if he wants to shove Brett away or pull him even closer, so he curls his hands into fists at his sides. "I hate to disagree with you but—"

"Oh, please," Brett whispers, now sounding more amused than pissed off, "you love to disagree with me. I'd say it's your favorite thing in the world." He leans down, dragging his lips over Stiles' cheek and to his ear. "But it doesn't matter. You're going to stay here." His voice is dark and deep, every words painted against the shell of his ear. "Coyotes are no match for us, but if you're out there with me..." Brett trails off, wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist.

It works. It works, and Stiles hates it because he doesn't want to back down. He doesn't want to stay behind while Brett and the others are putting themselves in danger. But he's right. He's right, and Stiles hates that even more. "Okay," he whispers, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Okay, I'll stay here." He leans his head to the side, baring his neck more as an apology than submission.

"Good." Brett ducks his head, running his closed mouth along his throat until he finds his pulse. That's where he parts his lips. That's where he bites down with blunt human teeth.

Stiles whimpers quietly.

"Good," Brett repeats, kissing Stiles' throat before locking eyes with him again. "And when I'm back, I think I need to refresh your memory on what happens when you disobey your alpha, don't you think?"

Licking his lips, Stiles nods. "Yeah, yeah, agreed."

Brett chuckles and kisses Stiles' forehead. "See you in a little bit."

"Be careful."

"Always."

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I wish you would write a fic where... | ask

#briles #stiles stilinski #brett talbot #teen wolf #brett x stiles #stiles x brett #mystories #prompts

[mmvalentine]

Hey. Can you write a canon divergence where feyre runs into Issac when she visits her family in acomf and jealous Rhys👀

A little 'fresh mating bond' feysand? Oh yes. Yes I can.

We're All Just Animals

We arrived in the human world a day before the meeting with the mortal queens. Now that we were mated, Rhys was voicing a new interest in the village where I grew up, and wanted to spend a day walking around my old town. More importantly, we wanted time to walk around with each other in a place where we didn't get stopped every other minute to be congratulated by doting citizens. With the bond so fresh we... weren't always up for being around other people for extended periods of time and avoided being caught in casual conversations.

So there we were, wandering the market place like newlyweds. At home, I had put a stop to Rhys buying me lavish gowns and precious jewels. Leave the hoarding to Amren, I always said. But here I let him spoil me with trinkets from local vendors: wooden rings, pressed flowers, and spun sugar in the shapes of birds.

To our great satisfaction, no one approached us. No one knew who we were or wanted to make small talk. I supposed I looked very different now to what I used to- where I had been a pale, dirty starveling last I lived here, I was now fae with decadent meals every day and months of Illyrain training. If I walked past nineteen year old me, I'm sure she wouldn't recognise me.

But Isaac Hale did.

"Feyre?" he called.

"Isaac!" I beamed. Since Rhys and I had been mated, it felt like everything delighted me. Despite the looming tensions with Hybern, I was just so deliriously happy, and the feeling was as intoxicating as it was unfamiliar.

Isaac? Rhys echoed in my mind. He knew exactly who Isaac was.

"How are you?" I asked him. "Where's your lovely wife?"

"I'm good. She's at home," Isaac said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to not stare too hard at me. I remembered how it felt to be dazzled by the beauty of the fae, and I felt a little sorry for him.

"I'm supposed to be bringing home a bag of salt and a few other spices," Isaac said. "Should we walk together?"

Ice crackled into my veins, starting where Rhys's hand held mine and shooting through my arm to my heart. I glanced at him, and if his grip hadn't turned vice-like, you couldn't tell that he was bothered at all.

The mating bond was a strange thing. The ever calm, ever suave Rhys I knew was consumed by the possessive instincts of evolutions past, and I wondered in the last few days where his reasonable self had gone to. I was all too aware of his absolute intolerance of males around me- even his own brothers, sometimes.

"Sure," I said, smiling beatifically at Isaac.

Then again, maybe the mating bond did strange things to me, too.

We turned and strolled down the street together, and as we did, Rhys's hand slipped from mind and slid round my waist instead. Tugged me into his side, and dug a little too hard into my flesh.

"So," he said, his voice perfectly light. "Isaac is it?"

"Yes," Isaac blinked, as if only now becoming aware of Rhys. My smile grew slightly wider, while Rhys beside me only got colder. I couldn't deny the rush I felt when Rhys got like this. When I could make Rhys like this. "I'm an... old friend of Feyre's."

"Funny," Rhys said casually. "I'd never heard of you."

Liar, I shot at Rhys. His talons scraped against the shield of my mind, found purchase and latched on. I shivered.

Isaac chuckled good-naturedly. "Ah, well, I suppose that makes sense, given... ah, our relationship." Wrong answer.

The talons twitched tighter, and the edges of my vision blurred for a second. I swatted at them, and they loosened again.

"It's been a long time," Isaac said quickly, noting the way Rhys and I walked together, the way Rhys was holding on to me.

"Too long," I purred. "We were going to stop by the tavern for a drink, if you'd like to join us." Rhys stopped dead in his tracks.

Feyre, he murmured, dangerously low.

"That would be lovely," Isaac said, and only noticed a second too late that Rhys's expression had lost all pretense at civility and was now openly hostile.

Rhys, I mimicked.

"Fantastic," Rhys said, eyes sparking. "Lead the way then." He gestured dramatically out in front and Isaac, now wildly uncertain, glanced at me before walking ahead of us.

What are you doing? I asked Rhys.

Going for a drink with your ex-lover, apparently, Rhys replied. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

He's an old friend, I reasoned. Don't kill him.

Rhys's eyes slid sideways to mine. Feyre I know you what you're doing.

I blinked innocently back at him. I don't know what you're talking about.

I pried his talons off my mind primly, and they sulked away.

I hadn't been to the local tavern since leaving the human world. It was dark and dingy just like I remembered- although my fae nose now picked up scents that I really didn't need amplified.

There were tall barrels dotted around the room that stood in as tables, and in the centre of the space were a couple of worn couches. We picked up our mugs of ale and sat down on one of the latter. I had Rhys on my left, and I leaned my back against his shoulder as I turned to Isaac. Isaac set his drink on the low table, and sat down on my other side. Moved a little further away when a low warning growl emanating from Rhys as soon as his backside hit the cushion.

"How are your sisters?" Isaac asked, now clearly uncomfortable. Rhys's arms slid around my middle, and his chin rested on my shoulder.

"They're doing well," I told him. "They're much more comfortable since my father's trade has picked up."

"Yes, I've been glad to see your family's good fortune return," Isaac said. He reached for his mug, which happened to be near my knee. Rhys's teeth snapped loudly next to my ear, and I slapped his thigh lightly.

"Behave," I said mildly. I reached up and stroked his hair without looking at him, and he moved his head to touch his nose to my palm.

Isaac, on the other hand, was looking at Rhys with wide eyes and had snatched his hand back so fast you'd think the tankard was on fire. Without a drink, he rubbed his hands together awkwardly. I picked up my own mug, and slid Isaac's across to him at the same time. The taste was sawdust on my lips now, but Isaac drank his down quickly.

"See the Archerons often, do you Isaac?" Rhys asked lightly. He was now circling his nails on my knee, and they were just a bit too sharp. I could feel it all the way up my legs. A craving for more, more, more of Rhys's touch stoked in my belly. Isaac blanched a little at how Rhys's mood seemed to be lurching.

"Uh, no, but the family is well known around town, of course."

Dear gods, I thought. His hands are actually shaking around his ale.

Rhys saw this too, and his gaze went straight to them.

"I see," was all he said, and then he pulled me right into his lap. I would have objected, it was far too intimate for this public setting. But then his hands squeezed on my hips and I realised he was hard beneath me, and all thoughts emptied out of my head. I shifted my hips automatically.

Isaac tipped back the rest of his ale, and stood hurriedly.

"Well," he said. "It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Feyre."

I held out my hand and he touched my fingers. Rhys went deathly still around me, and as soon as Isaac turned to leave Rhys was up and walking me roughly across the floor. Down the hall toward the staircase that led up to the rooms, where the shadows were dense and we were away from the main room. Then he spun me roughly and pushed me toward the wall, where my hands caught me and my breath came fast. Rhys threw up a shield so hard it cracked the beam on the ceiling, and then he had his lips on the back of my neck and his hands pushing up my skirts.

"Mine," Rhys snarled in my ear. His nails raked up the backs of my thighs and I gasped at the sensation. "You're fucking mine." And then with no further preamble he yanked my hips back toward him and sank himself inside me.

I cried out with the sudden movement, and then a wild little laugh escaped me.

"Oh so you think it's funny, do you?" Rhys asked, and started fucking me with his hands tight on my hips.

"A little," I said breathlessly. "Are you jealous of a young mortal man?"

"No," Rhys growled, and one of his hands landed on the wall next to mine, bracing as his pace increased. "No I'm not jealous of that boy."

"Then what's- oh, mmm what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you're my mate and no one, fucking no one gets to touch you but me." He punctuated his sentence with sharp thrusts of his hips. I arched my back to get him deeper, and his teeth gripped my neck at the junction of my shoulder.

"Well make me yours then," I said, and the words set Rhys off into a frenzy. His hands slid over my chest and squeezed my breasts on top my clothes, and he was fucking me so hard I could barely breathe.

"You wanna be mine?" Rhys panted. "Fuck me back." I moaned and tried to keep up with the hurtling pace he had set. "That's it," Rhys said. "Fuck me back and come on my cock."

Indeed the pleasure was piling fast now, and I gloried in this unhinged, savage version of Rhys that so rarely got let out. Now, mating bond in hand, I had its collar on the end of my leash and I loved it.

My head fell back against Rhys's shoulder and caught my ear lobe between his teeth. My hand reached for my clit, but Rhys stopped me and put both my hands firmly on the wall in front of me. Then his own fingers slid between my thighs and his tongue continued under my ear in time with his hand.

"Come on my cock Feyre," he said roughly. "Do it. Do it now."

And my body knew who it was answering to. My climax stuttered out of me and I spasmed in the cage of his arms. Rhys tightened around me as he fell into release too, and we were shaking and shuddering and coming apart against the dull wood of the tavern.

Rhys rested his forehead on the top of my shoulder while we caught our breath, and then he cleaned us up with a wave. The sounds of the crowd floated back in as the shield protecting us dissolved, and Rhys grinned against my beck as he hugged me once more into his chest.

"Such a wicked, cruel mate," he purred. I turned my head to kiss him, far too pleased with myself, before walking back out in front of him.

I ran straight into a man with as much ale on his breath as was left in his mug.

"Oh hello sweetheart," he said.

And Rhys stepped up behind me and gave such a feral growl that the man backed away very fast.

"Home," he gritted out, and I kissed him hard on the mouth as he winnowed.

****

It occurs to me that I could also have done a whole bit about Rhys reading Isaac's memories of Feyre in the barn, but also it's 11.24pm you get what you get 😂

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #smut

[noctumbra]

peaches: vi ─ two

summary ─ her voice was low and soft; she was talking to bucky like she would speak with a wild animal. she was expecting him to be mad at her, bucky realized. bucky wanted to laugh at her face while crying.

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ mentions of depression, crying, angst, jealousy, smut, +18, wall sex , what comes around goes around aka karma bitch

a/n ─ don’t be mad at me for the ending :))))) i’m just here to post this part, and i’ll be gone again. you guys have waited enough. i finished it just now and didn’t want to make you wait even more. please leave a feedback! thank you <3 i don’t own the gif. (ps: bucky now looks exactly like seb does in the gif)

series masterlist ─ part one

It had been… Bucky didn’t know how long, he stopped counting a while ago. He had been living in his bed for a while. The last time he left home was… the night he got his heart broken cruelly. He haven’t left his house ever since; he was getting the groceries delivered once in a week ─on Wednesdays─, forcing himself to eat at least half a sandwich or a bowl of oatmeal, also forcing himself to take care of his hygiene once in three days.

If he stopped doing even one of them, he knew he would crash very badly. Bucky was trying not to crash. His latest crush had been bad, and he really didn’t want to repeat that.  

Bucky sighed as he closed his laptop. He had to go to the company for a meeting that couldn’t be done on Skype, but his delivery was about to come. He stood from his home-office desk and went to his bedroom. He could get ready while waiting the delivery, right?

“Gotta shave first, though,” Bucky murmured to himself as he saw his reflection on the mirror. His hair was longer, fluffier and somewhat curly. He now had a full-grown beard going on; it was dark brown and thick and looked unkempt. He ignored the very dark circles under his eyes. He ran his fingers through the beard. It looked unkempt, yes, but it wasn’t so bad, Bucky thought as his eyes assessed the situation. He could fix the fuzzy look and then have a proper haircut on his way to company.

Yeah, that would make him look decent.

Bucky nodded to himself and threw himself in the shower to wash away the day’s sweat. In ten minutes he was out, with a scissors in his hand, he was fixing his beard. It only took him three minutes and his beard already looked better than it did five minutes ago. Bucky dried his hair and brushed his teeth, finishing up the bathroom. As he stepped back into his bedroom, he heard the doorbell ring. He swore lightly and grabbed his sweatpants that he threw on his bed hastily.

“Coming!” Bucky yelled while trying to find his wallet. Letting out a small sound of triumph, Bucky ran towards the door. “There you go─” He lifted his head as he extended his cash filled hand.

But it wasn’t the delivery guy.

“Hello,” she murmured. Bucky looked at her, frozen. “I, um, wanted to check up on you because, uh, we haven’t heard from you for a while and… Papa got worried because he said that you looked upset while you were leaving, so, um.” She stopped talking.Bucky didn’t say anything but blinked. A part of him couldn’t believe that she was here, worried about him, but the other part of him was suspicious because it wasn’t her, Sam was the real worried one. Bucky knew that she didn’t care about him enough to worry just because she didn’t see him for a month.

“Dad said to leave you alone, said that if you wanted to see or talk to people, you would, but Papa didn’t buy it,” she continued. Her voice was low and soft; she was talking to Bucky like she would speak with a wild animal. She was expecting him to be mad at her, Bucky realized. Bucky wanted to laugh at her face while crying.

“So?” Bucky finally spoke, his voice was cold. “You’ve seen me, checked up on me. You can go back.” He made a move to close the door, but she stopped him before he could close it fully.

“Bucky─”

“I can’t,” Bucky said. “I gotta be at the company in two hours.” He tried to close the door again, but she wasn’t letting him fucking close it. “Step back,” Bucky snarled.

“I wanna talk,” she said, looking at his eyes. Bucky clenched his jaw.

“There isn’t anything to talk, now step back,” Bucky murmured through his clenched teeth. She wasn’t giving up, though, Bucky realized. “Y/N.” He warned.

“No, I wanna talk. Quit being stubborn,” she hissed at him, and Bucky ─ just snapped. With a growl, Bucky opened the door and pulled her inside. Her back slammed against the wall even before the door was closed.

“Stubborn?” He hissed. His face was so close to hers, the tips of their noses were brushing against each other. “I said I don’t want to talk, and you’re calling me stubborn? You got a fucking nerve, kid,” Bucky continued to hiss at her angrily. He was so angry, so sad, he just couldn’t help himself. “You’re tellin’ me that I don’t worth your time, that I’m not good enough for you─” Bucky felt himself choke on the words, but swallowing harshly, he continued.

“I ain’t stubborn, Y/N. I’m just heartbroken. I’m just ─ hurt,” Bucky finished with a snarl and pulled himself off of her. “When I said I don’t want to talk, I said it because I don’t want to be reminded of my heartbreak. I don’t want to recall that time again so that I can be sad after you leave. I’ve been hurt enough in this lifetime, I don’t want to be hurt anymore. Enough.” Bucky’s voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears slowly, he hated how his eyes got teary whenever he was angry. His chest was moving up and down with the adrenaline that was running through his bloodstream. She wasn’t so different: Her eyes were huge, lips parted, and she was panting. Bucky saw tears in his eyes and barely held his scoff back. Bucky turned around and opened the door. “Leave.” She stood on shaky legs and took a couple steps forward.

What Bucky didn’t expect was for her to slam the door shut and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Bucky let out a shocked little noise and tried to push her away, but he missed this so much. He missed her so much. It was maybe a bit masochist of him, but he wanted this. He wanted her back, wanted her beautiful presence and gorgeous body in his life back.

Fuck the heartbreak, Bucky thought, and he pushed her against the wall again, a growl escaping from his half-parted lips.

Caging her body between his and the wall, Bucky placed his left hand on her jaw. His right hand sneaked into her hair, grabbing a fistful, as he deepened the kiss. He was swallowing every single little moan, or whimper she was letting out.

It was only him who could hear those delicious sounds.

It was only him who could draw out those moans out of her.

It was only him who could treat her right, Bucky knew it goddammit, she was his.

Snarling possessively, both of his hands moved south on her body. Bucky grabbed her thighs in his palms so that he could hike her body higher. She let out a little gasp when Bucky lifted her easily and helped her wrap her legs around his waist. Her hands grabbed his hair and pulled painfully when she felt his mouth latch on the exposed skin of her neck. Bucky groaned at the delicious sting on his skull.

“Bucky, oh!” She moaned, “Please!” Bucky chuckled against the soft skin beneath his lips. Her body was trying to move, grind, between his and the wall. Bucky tsked teasingly.

“You don’t deserve my kindness, Y/N,” Bucky murmured. His eyes were closed. His left hand that was on her jaw was now around her throat, loose. Bucky felt his fingers twitched with the almost unstoppable want of curling around that throat and maybe squeezing just a little. Growling under his breath, Bucky sniffed, filling his lungs with her soft, peach scent. The tears stung in his eyes: He missed smelling peaches on you so much.

“Bucky?” Her voice called out to him softly, worry hiding in that soft tone. “Are you okay?” Bucky knew that if he tried to speak, he’d probably just let out a sob, so he just nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you like this. I’m sorry.” Bucky shook her head.

“Shut up,” he grunted, and his lips were onto her again.

She whimpered into his kiss. Her hands were now on both sides of his face rather than pulling his hair. She was holding his face so gently, Bucky’s sobs started to threaten him to let out even more. Bucky ignored them. He tilted his head and let his lips stroke her swollen and slick ones. Her tongue traced an innocent line over his bottom lip, and Bucky groaned gently.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips. Her hands were trailing south slowly. Her fingertips were dancing on his naked torso, sending hot lick of arousal down Bucky’s spine. “I missed you. Bucky─ Sir, I need you,” she sobbed. “Please…”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “You do not deserve my kindness, Y/N,” Bucky repeated his words, his head hanging low. He should have pulled back and told to go home, but instead of doing that, Bucky let his fingertips graze over her clothed core. He needed her, too. He needed to feel her skin against his.

Taking a hold of her sweatpants, Bucky lowered and let go of her enough to pull them off. Then, she was up against the wall again with Bucky’s sweatpants pooling around his ankles. “He’s not me. He can never be me, you understand, Y/N?” Bucky asked, his voice was cold and demanding. She whimpered.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured. Her eyes were black, tears were dry on her cheeks, lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. She looked so good and all Bucky’s. Bucky couldn’t help but moan at his own thoughts, and he grabbed her jaw to tilt her head back. He wanted eye contact.

“If you do this to me again, Y/N, I’ll lose it,” he whispered, “You hear me? I’ll fucking lose it. You’re mine, peaches.”

She whimpered, hips grinding against his slowly. “Will always be yours, sir, Bucky. Yes, I hear you, sir.” Bucky smiled darkly, satisfied with the answer he got. His free hand slipped under her t-shirt, his fingers stroking the line of her breast. She came here prepared, he thought. Rumbling deep in his chest, his hand closed over the swell of her breast and he squeezed. She moaned, head tilting back even more. Bucky nosed the line of her jaw and took a deep breath.

Bucky pushed his hips forward and helped her grind right on his cock. Moaning, Bucky pinched her nipple. “The sounds you make…” He murmured. “Mmm.”

“Sir─” She choked over her own moan when the tip of his cock brushed against her clit. Bucky grunted and ground her harder on his cock. It felt too good to feel her juices coating him in the filthiest way possible. It felt too good to have her under him back.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned and let go of her breast to grab his cock. He squeezed the base for couple seconds before he lined up. “No one will make you feel things that I can, Y/N,” he said, voice hard as steel and cold as ice. “You can’t find me in different men.”

She just whined. The words were failing her ever since she stepped inside, so she just whined and continued to grind. Bucky smirked and lined his cock. With one thrust, he was inside of her scorching heat. Her soft walls were clenching down on him, and Bucky thought he could come any second.

“Oh, fuuck─” Bucky choked on his moan. Resting his head on her shoulder, Bucky put his now free hand on the wall. His hips started to thrust: Slow at first, but the pace got faster as his desperation increased. His cock hitting her sweet spot with every single thrust, she cried out. Her nails were digging in and creating angry lines on Bucky’s back, but the physical pain was spurring Bucky faster.

His thrusts got deeper, harder and faster, and soon enough she was crying and screaming with pleasure. “Fuck, sir! Yes, right there, yes please, please!” She whined, sobbed and choked on her moans. Bucky was going delirious with the sounds she was letting out. He growled and brought his hand to grab her breast through her t-shirt.

“God,” he grunted. “Shit, peaches, so fucking good. So tight, wet. You hear that sounds? It’s your slick, baby,” Bucky moaned this time. “You’re so fucking wet, you’re drenching my thighs, honey, fuck.”

She molded her body against his and started to respond his thrusts with her own. Bucky snarled and pulled her off from the wall and shed her from her t-shirt. Now with the easy access to her breasts, Bucky plastered her back against the wall and leaned forward. Bucky took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked harshly.

“Ah!” She exclaimed with the sudden extra sensation. Her hands found Bucky’s hair and pulled. Bucky just grunted, hips driving even deeper now, he continued to suck on her nipple. Sometimes his teeth would graze the areola, bite down softly, Bucky made her lose it.

She screamed, back arching and pushing her chest to his mouth even more, she clamped down around him and came. Bucky groaned with the tightness around his cock. He forgot how tight her pussy got whenever she came. Bucky felt his balls tighten, too, his stomach was cramping softly. He was close, oh, he was so close.

“Fuck, fuck, ah!” With one last thrust, Bucky came inside of her.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that against the wall, but Bucky blinked and pulled out slowly. He still needed to go to the company. Delivery guy would be here any minute, too, he thought, and pulled on his sweatpants.

Bucky watched her collect herself. She put her panties and sweatpants on and grabbed the t-shirt that Bucky discarded on the floor. When she lifted her head, she got a hopeful look in her eyes. Bucky frowned slightly.

“Bucky…” She started, her lips curled up with a soft smile.

“I don’t forgive you,” he cut her off. “I don’t know when will I do that, or ever to be honest.” Her face fell and she suddenly got angry.

“You─ used me? If you didn’t forgive me, then why did you fuck me, huh?” Bucky looked at her with his eyebrows raised and an amused smirk on his lips. “I can’t fucking believe you!” She hissed at him. Bucky let out a dark laugh.

“This,” Bucky said. “This is how I felt when you said those things to me in your kitchen. That’s what you did to me. You used me and discarded me like I’m trash, Y/N. That’s exactly how I felt that night.” She looked like she had been slapped, and Bucky enjoyed that look a little too much. She needed to understand how she made him feel that night. She had to. “Now you know,” Bucky finished his words and opened the door. “I’ll call your parents and let them know I’m still alive. Thank you for coming by.”

She looked at him like she wanted to say something, but the look on his face made her decide against it. She put her hair into a bun and walked out. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before Bucky closed the door on her face.

I deserved it, she thought. It does hurt like motherfucker. She chuckled to herself bitterly and went back to her house.

She needed to earn his forgiveness, she knew that much, and she was going to do right by him. Whatever it takes, she was going to do it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #peaches

[veryreallyfuckinbad]

FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 1

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep sprinting. All you were able to hear were the ghostly, haunting wails of the dead. They were a sound that you’ve grown accustomed to, but they never failed to make you uneasy, no matter how many times you’ve heard them. You never thought it would end like this, torn to shreds by walkers. But what were you expecting? Dying as a hero? Dying to a human, when they were so few and far between? Hell, dying of starvation was better than sharing the fate of the dead people walking. Anything was better than ending up like the group of walkers chasing you down the street.

The scorching heat definitely didn’t help. You were never fond of the Georgian heat and despite having grown up here, you simply disliked how uncomfortable and sticky everything felt. But today, you were convinced that if you cracked a raw egg on the street, it would easily cook. The road was surrounded by greenery, a forest nearby. It was oddly beautiful, the grass growing out of the cracks in the concrete, the flowers blooming around you.

Your legs were starting to give out. You knew that if you didn’t figure something out, and quick, you were as good as dead. Your knife was tucked in its sheath, but once you heard snarls and growls of a nearby walker that wandered from the opposite side of the street, you unsheathed it and threw the knife straight into the dead man’s head, cracking his skull open and sending it flying down on the hot concrete. Despite how tired you were, you felt a smirk creep up on your face- even when running for your life, almost collapsing out of sheer exhaustion, your skills with a blade didn’t let you down. Quickly bending down to retrieve your trusty knife, you pulled it out of the walker’s skull with a slight grunt and grimaced as some blood hit your face. Shit. Not only were you sweaty, you were also covered in walker blood just because you pulled your knife out too quickly.

You were about to quickly curse the dead man for making you even dirtier than you already were, but your head shot up when you heard a loud, consistent noise. A car alarm went off. This was your only chance, you thought. You didn’t take time to wonder why the alarm was blaring, maybe one of the dead bumped into an abandoned car. Frankly, you didn’t care. You looked around and nearly gasped when you saw it- an opening to the forest. You felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and made a run for it, praying to every deity that the dead were too distracted with the loud noise of the alarm to notice you slip away.

Your prayers were answered. You managed to slip into the lush forest unnoticed. Deciding to walk deeper into the woodland, you sheathed your knife and gave it a gentle pat, as if thanking it for saving your life.

The forest was serene and quiet. The trees gave you shade and cooled you down a little. Looking up, you saw a bird fly up to its nest. Despite you being in grave danger, practically at all times, life went on for other creatures. Moss grew over stones and tree trunks, the occasional mushroom could be found here and there. Instead of the growls of the dead, all you could hear now was the calm rustling of the trees and the sounds of woodland creatures, mainly the quiet chirping of birds. For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt at peace.

Suddenly, the sound of rushing water could be heard. There must have been a river nearby. Hurrying over to find the source of the sound, you almost tripped over a root that was sticking out of the ground, barely managing to get hold of a tree before you could fall. You couldn’t help your excitement; you were dehydrated, sweaty and tired- any body of water would be a blessing.

“Oh, fuck yes” was all you said under your breath when you saw it- a beautiful, small creek and a tiny pond connected to it. Rocks were scattered across the river bank, moss covering most of them. Trees were growing out of the edge of the bank, one bending right over the pond. Green ferns surrounded the other side of the lake, gently rustling with every gust of wind. You noticed a big weeping willow and decided to lay your backpack underneath it. Your knife was still attached to your pants- it wasn’t a good idea to leave it on the bank. ‘Better safe than sorry’ you thought.

You contemplated for a second, wondering whether you should take your clothes off but decided against it- you might need to get up and run any second and running through a forest naked, possibly being chased by walkers didn’t sound like much fun. Not that running from them fully clothed was a blast.

You quickly kicked off your boots and splashed some water on your face, allowing it to drip from your lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smile and sigh, finally able to relax and rest. The water was clear- you could see the rocks on the bottom of the lake and some stray leaves that fell in. You could also see your reflection- your hair was matted, some knots forming in it and your face sunken down, dark bags under your eyes from staying awake and alert at all times. You sighed and let yourself submerge in the water- it wasn’t nearly as good as a shower, but you knew that a shower is a luxury that was far out of your reach.

Sitting under the willow, hair and clothes wet, you played with your knife in your hands. The dark brown, wooden handle was wrapped in a bandage for easier grip- that way it never slipped out of your hand. You smiled when you remembered receiving the knife. Your previous group was like family to you- they taught you everything you know. Everything from sharpening knives to killing walkers or skinning squirrels. You owed your life to them, but you will forever remember one of them- Jake. He was a tall guy, middle aged you would guess, not that it mattered anymore. His hair was a dirty blonde color and his face was speckled with freckles. He was like a father to you, he was the one who gave you your knife, and he came up with its nickname- Artemis. During one of the rare, calm and starry nights he sat on top of his truck with you while the rest of your group was asleep. He explained why he named your knife Artemis- he said it’s the name of a Greek goddess, patron of nature and hunts. You were never big on mythology, only knowing a few of the most popular myths.

“So, you named her after the goddess of nature for me to shamelessly murder innocent woodland critters with it?” You joked, “Don’t think she would be too happy about that”

He laughed and playfully punched your shoulder, making you swat at him with your hand

“Nah, I’m sure she would understand. Hunting was her thing” Jake said, sighing and gave you a small smile.

You shook your head, not even trying to understand. You felt at peace, safe even. He treated you like his daughter more than a fellow survivor. He saved your life when you almost starved to death and took you in. Ever since then, he took it upon himself to keep you safe. He said you reminded him of his daughter, but you never asked him to elaborate, as his eyes always darkened when he spoke about her. Jake made you feel like as long as he was around, nothing would ever happen to you.

And then everything went to shit.

When you were all asleep peacefully, a herd passed through your camp. They must’ve seen your campfire or heard you speak from afar. You saw your entire group get mauled and torn apart, right before your eyes. You saw Jake die. Before he met his end, he managed to say one last thing.

“Run”

You quickly shook your head and stood up, stretching. The leaves hanging from the willow above you swayed in the wind, one of them tickling your neck and almost making you jump out of your skin, you held Artemis out and turned around, sighing.

You had to admit, you were paranoid. But you didn’t think it was a bad thing- it was either being careful or being dead.

Your head whipped back to the pond, hearing rustling and the snapping of branches coming from the ferns opposite of you. If it was one walker, you could handle it. It would probably fall in the pond anyway, making your job easier.

You almost gasped when you saw a flash of reddish-brown come out from between the greenery- you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head. It was just a fox who had come to the pond to drink some water.

You examined the animal- he looked unhealthy, but still beautiful. His fur was matted and he looked malnourished. You noticed the nick in one of his black ears and wondered how he got it. His fur looked like a flame, contrasting against the green grass and moss. He had ears that looked like they were too big for his head. Deciding to watch from afar as not to startle the animal, you sat cross legged by the shore of the lake. Your eyes shot up when you noticed the blood dripping down one of his hind legs- he had a massive cut on his leg. It went all the way from his hip to his paw, coloring his fur crimson. As soon as he tried to swallow the water, he began heaving and choking, his breathing became shallow. Eventually, he collapsed on his side.

You couldn’t just sit back and watch this poor animal die. You didn’t have the heart not to help him, and you had to admit it- you were lonely as hell. Anything would do, even the company of a wild animal in need. You jumped up from the grass you sat on and ran into the water, trying your best not to slip on any of the rocks that littered the bottom of the lake, which was shallow enough for you to cross without needing to swim.

You ran up to the fox, contemplating what to do. His leg was bleeding badly, you needed to stop it or he wouldn’t make it until morning. It looked at you, terrified.

“Fuck, shit, what the hell do I do?” You tried not to panic but couldn’t help the string of curses escaping your mouth.

Suddenly, you got an idea. You remembered that your knife’s handle was wrapped in bandages, and even though you hated the idea of sacrificing the comfort of having the handle wrapped in them, you decided that he needed them more. You weren’t sure whether to bring your backpack and knife to the other side of the pond or take the animal to your makeshift camp under the willow.

You decided on the latter, picking the fox up as gently as you could and walked into the water, holding him up so he didn’t get wet. As soon as you made it to the other side you carefully laid him down on the grass, making sure not to touch his injured leg. You quickly grabbed Artemis and unwrapped the bandages from the handle.

“You better be grateful” you said, half to the fox, half to yourself. If Jake could see you right now, he would be so mad. He would tell you not to waste resources on a dying animal that will run away or die anyway. Maybe he was right, but you couldn’t help yourself. You saw a lot of yourself in the fox, scared, tired of running away, afraid of anything and everything.

You sighed and grabbed the bandages, ripping them in half.

“This might hurt, but I promise I’m trying to help” you whispered under your breath and gently stroked his head. He didn’t flinch or bite you, probably because he didn’t have enough strength to do so. You took a deep breath and grabbed one half of the bandages and pressed them against his wound, flinching when the animal shrieked due to the sudden pressure on his wounded leg. You knew you were helping but couldn’t help but feel bad. You noticed it was getting dark, looking around with your hands still firmly pressed against his wound. You sighed, knowing you’ll need to light a campfire soon.

Once his bleeding seemed to lessen, you let go of his leg and looked at your hands. They were covered in blood, but it was nothing new. ‘Better than walker blood, I guess’ you thought to yourself as you made your way over to the pond to wash the blood off and quickly returned to the animal.

“Now, this won’t hurt as much but I’ll need you to stay still” you looked him in the eyes and stroked his head, between his comically big ears. He seemed to calm down, looking at you with less terror and more confusion.

Taking the other half of the bandages, you kneeled next to him and gently lifted his leg, trying to cause him as little pain as possible. He didn’t make a sound this time and let you wrap the bandage around his leg. You couldn’t help but think that he must know you’re helping. You knew it was a stupid thought, but something in his eyes and the way he calmed down whenever you stroked his flame-colored fur told you he trusted you.

“I will be right back, I promise. I just need to get a fire going because someone forced me to get into the pond again and I need to dry off.” You explained, smirking, noticing how good it felt to finally have someone to talk to- even if it was a confused, wounded fox.

Once you gathered all the wood and branches you could find, you laid them down in a pile and surrounded it with rocks so the fire wouldn’t spread. Grabbing your backpack, you pulled out a lighter and looked at the smoldering branches. Poking the wood a with a stick a few times, you finally sat down next to the fox again and watched the flame grow.

Then, you remembered- you had a water bottle and a package of dried jerky in your backpack. Smiling, you pulled them out and took a sip of water and opened the jerky. The foxes ears shot up when he heard the rustle of the plastic wrapping. He looked at you and licked his snout, giving you puppy eyes.

“Oh, come on man. This is my last food! I literally don’t have any more.” You whined, hoping that the animal could somehow understand you. Sadly, he couldn’t. His gaze flickered from the piece of jerky to your face. You sighed and gave in when he flipped over, so he was laying on his stomach, his tail moving gently, kind of like a dog wagging its tail when it sees its owner.

“There you go” you dipped your head, handing him the piece of meat, the fox gently taking it from your hand, as if afraid to graze you with its sharp teeth “But if I starve, it’s on you” you pointed your finger at him, once again hoping he understood.

The fox ended up eating all of your food, but the second his head pushed against your hand, shuffling over so his head was on your lap, you knew it was worth it.

“Feeling better, huh?” you gave his head a pat with a smile, “I know you’ll be gone in the morning, it’s okay. Go when you want to” you were surprised by yourself, by how much you missed speaking to another living creature.

You heard a branch snap on the other side of the pond and your head shot up, just like the foxes ears. You both looked at the source of the sound, but couldn’t make anything out- it was too dark. You lifted the animal’s head off your lap as gently as you could and grabbing your knife, made your way to the shore of the lake. Feeling bold, you sheathed the blade and grabbed two big rocks, banging them against each other.

“Come on, you dead fuck! Come up here so I can get this over with and sleep in peace!” you screamed, trying to lure the walker out, but nothing came out. Not even a single undead moan. You stood by the shore for a while, making sure that it really was nothing before coming back to sit with the fox, the animal once again put his head on your lap.

You looked over at him and ran your hands through his fur “What do you think? Was it just an animal?” you genuinely hoped that the fox would tell you, all you wanted to do was relax for a few hours, maybe get some shut eye. He just looked up at you and moved his head into your hand, wanting to be pet some more. After making sure you would keep petting him, he laid his head in your lap.

“So that’s what I am? A pillow, huh?” You whispered gently, loving the feeling of a wild, elusive animal trusting you.

You opened your eyes and rubbed them, sighing. You haven’t slept this well in a long time. No noises woke you up, you didn’t even have a nightmare.

You expected the fox to be gone, back in the wild, tearing your bandage off with its teeth, but you were wrong. He was sitting curled up beside you, awake, as if keeping watch. You grinned and ruffled his fur lovingly, holding yourself back from kissing his head- you had to admit it, he was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“So, since you insist on staying, what’s your name, huh?” you looked at him, still stroking his fire-colored pelt. “Floppy? ‘Cause you know, the ears.” You grimaced and shook your head, “Nah, you need a more badass name. Like… like the most badass person I know. Jake. You like that?” he squeaked, resembling a bark but more high pitched. He suddenly stood up and you glanced at his leg. He was standing on all four legs, not even a limp. You guessed the wound wasn’t as deep as you thought. He trotted over to something and came back to you, looking up at you and walking back to whatever he wanted to share with you.

“What is it, huh?” Curiously, you went over to where Jake was standing. He was sniffing something, looking at what he found and then flicking his gaze back to you.

Kneeling down, you were surprised to see a small bag. It wasn’t there yesterday. Concerned, you opened it and saw a water bottle, a bag of dried jerky, a dead squirrel and some bandages.

“What the—“ you couldn’t finish as you saw Jake put his snout inside the bag, getting stuck. You laughed a bit and pulled it off his head. He shook his head, sneezed and licked his nose. Reaching into the bag again, you saw one more thing. A note.

“SQUIRREL FOR THE FOX”

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #twd daryl #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #the walking dead daryl

[robininthelabyrinth]

Good Help - chapter 2 - ao3 link

-

Despite the circumstances of their first meeting, Meng Yao mostly appreciated A-Jue for his quick mind and fearlessness – and, yes, occasionally for his towering height that made grabbing books from high places infinitely easier – rather than his muscles, however impressive they were. In fact, after the first few weeks, he had very nearly forgotten that A-Jue was a guard of the inner hall.

The assassination attempt put an end to that oversight.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao hadn’t anticipated such an attempt, nor that he hadn’t taken precautions. He was careful to take his meals in the communal kitchen at unexpected hours and tested even the snacks he kept with him before consuming them, and naturally avoided any unsupervised hallways or attempts to lure him outside, but he had underestimated the enmity that greeted his appointment: he had not thought that they would launch a direct attack.

The perpetrators entered his office as petitioners, posing as clerks for an influential merchant, and launched the attack just as they were settling into the rhythm of negotiations. They were hoping to catch him distracted, which they did, but Meng Yao had always had good instincts; he realized what was happening the first moment they moved. He was out of his chair and reaching for the flexible sword he stored around his waist almost at once, already calculating how many injuries he could incur and still be able to fight back enough to preserve his life – he just needed to survive until the guards came in, unless they’d somehow gotten rid of those, in which case he needed to run –

The calculations proved unnecessary.

By the time Meng Yao’s hand reached the hilt of his blade, A-Jue was already in front of him, catching one assassin the chest with a vicious palm strike and knocking him into the path of another, turning fluidly to slam an elbow into a third.

He didn’t even draw the saber that hung low at his waist, just knocked aside the assassin’s swords and daggers with his bare hands and then beating them with his fists and feet.

Meng Yao stood there for a moment, blinking, and by the time even his quick-moving mind caught up with everything the assassins all were unconscious or paralyzed, the merchant was on his knees begging for mercy and swearing to his ignorance, and A-Jue was standing there, frowning slightly at one of the still-twitching assassins like he was considering going in for more.

“Why didn’t you draw your saber?” Meng Yao asked, both because he was curious and because it was a better reaction than saying I forgot you could do that or I thought I’d be facing them all on my own again, or, even worse, thanks.

“I thought you’d want them alive to question them,” A-Jue said, blinking at him – he had the same expression of good-natured puzzlement as he did any time Meng Yao corrected him, whether as to his calculation of accounting errors or underestimating the malice inherent in mankind, which remained a subject of recurrent disagreement. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” Meng Yao said, and felt once again the thrill of power when A-Jue nodded and called for other guards to enter and remove the bodies, although he crouched by each one first to check them over for any suicide pills or arrays that might interfere with an interrogation. His professional detachment and efficient resolution of events was truly suitable for a guard of the inner hall, the finest of Wen Ruohan’s soldiers; there could be no complaints.

There was something truly delightful about having a powerful man at your beck and call, Meng Yao reflected, and wondered briefly if A-Jue had been sent his way deliberately as a plant to infiltrate his confidence. It seemed unlikely, given the random nature of their meeting, and certainly A-Jue didn’t fit any of Meng Yao’s known pre-existing preferences, other than in terms of bedpartners. And yet he grew suspicious, if only because A-Jue suited him so very well, just right in every way…

Meng Yao spent the next three days conducting a series of covert tests to see if any information was being leaked from his office through A-Jue, but there was nothing. Ultimately, he was forced to conclude that A-Jue might actually just be – like that.

Straightforward and blunt, fearless in both speech and action, decisive and capable and yet willing to take orders from Meng Yao, never judging him for his birth but respecting him for his abilities…

Good help, he reminded his suddenly over-active libido. Hard to find. Don’t ruin a good thing.

It was hard to remember, though. A-Jue was just the sort of man Meng Yao liked when he went for men: handsome and powerfully built, well-born or rich or both, stern and unyielding in demeanor, the sort of man for whom life generally went the way they wanted. The sort could easily get a girl, even one of good breeding and appropriate lineage, merely by snapping his fingers. The type of man that might tempt even a practiced whore.

Meng Yao liked to break those types of men.

It was a trait he shared with Wen Ruohan, and one of the ways he had managed to get the Emperor’s attention – that first job he had taken had been in the Fire Palace, the Emperor’s torture chambers, and he had worked out a considerable portion of his anger and anxiety through the torment of his enemies, defined liberally as anyone who insulted his mother. He’d matured since then, growing calmer, but he still liked to put proud men on their knees and make them service him, to rub their faces in the fact that he was the one with the power, to make them crawl and plead and cry for him. Though he supposed for someone like A-Jue – he wouldn’t need to break him, really.

It’d be enough to see him bend. Willingly, for him.

And yet, if Meng Yao did that, wouldn’t A-Jue start to flinch from him and turn away from him – seek to preserve his injured pride by fleeing Meng Yao’s presence, the way so many others before him had? It would make working together much more annoying, and A-Jue was perfect the way he was.

Almost irritatingly so. If only A-Jue were more inclined to make errors, Meng Yao would feel freer to take advantage of him.

“Have you ever thought less of me because of my parentage?” Meng Yao asked one evening, apropos of nothing, when A-Jue was already exhausted and more than a little wild-eyed from having to review every single one of the reports on wheat yields in their northern provinces as part of Meng Yao’s random audit of the files.

“I mean, Jin Guangshan’s a waste of space, but you’re nothing like him, so not after the beginning,” A-Jue said automatically, then scowled at Meng Yao when he started laughing. “What? Give me a break, I didn’t know you then! How was I to guess that you’d actually be competent? Or – not awful?”

“I was,” Meng Yao said with dignity, even if his lips insisted on twitching, “referring to my mother.”

“But you hate it when people talk about your mother,” A-Jue said blankly, then shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, is this some sort of mind game? If so, can it wait until tomorrow? I’m going to dream in wheat prices.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Meng Yao agreed, pretending to be solemn. He wasn’t sure if he was more amused at A-Jue’s ridiculous perspective on things or the fact that he seemed to think Meng Yao was not awful simply because he’d indulged him a few times when he was being especially insistent on doing things the soft-hearted way.

“You’re making fun of me again,” A-Jue grumbled. “I don’t know why, but you are. Fuck you.”

The next day, Meng Yao asked A-Jue if he’d ever been to a whorehouse.

“Yes, while on campaign,” A-Jue said, blinking rapidly as if he were trying to hide something, or more likely not think of something. Either he’d had a bad experience or he thought Meng Yao was going to cut off his balls for admitting it.

Which he wouldn’t, of course. There was nothing wrong with the better sort of customer, and Meng Yao felt certain that A-Jue would have been that sort, could imagine him sitting in the corner with a jar of wine and a blush until he was coaxed upstairs and then paying too much for the privilege, after...but it was cute that A-Jue worried about such things.  

Meng Yao put a friendly hand on A-Jue’s shoulder – the man flinched, briefly, but quickly mastered himself, just as he did any time anyone touched him – and said in his best sugar-sweet sympathetic tone that he hadn’t had to use on anyone in ages, “Did she touch you in a bad place?”

“The honored viceroy can go fuck himself any time he damn well pleases,” A-Jue said, and he had no idea how much Meng Yao would like to ask him if he’d prefer to do the honors himself.

“Do you know any other curses, or is it just variations on the term ‘fuck’?” he asked instead, thinking good help, good help, good help. “I know at least three dozen involving farmyard animals, if you’d like to learn.”

A-Jue’s laugh was in no way like a braying donkey, no matter what Meng Yao pretended to insist.

-

“Have you considered the benefits of a regular routine of physical exercise?” A-Jue asked.

Meng Yao glared at him.

“I’m just saying,” A-Jue said. “It would make your life easier.”

“Shut up and help me get down from up here,” Meng Yao hissed – A-Jue had taken care of the vicious snarling creatures that had somehow gotten loose, an obvious follow-up assassination attempt now that the poisoning he thought he’d identified in a late-night dessert had been demonstrably unsuccessful, even if A-Jue had insisted that they were just “sweet little puppies” and Meng Yao was “overreacting”.

“I’d be happy to help train you, if you’d like.”

“I’m far too busy,” Meng Yao said with what little shreds of dignity he still possessed. “I do three times as much work as you do, I don’t have capacity to running off to go wave a stick in the air multiple times a day like some people.”

A-Jue grinned at him, utterly unmoved, and Meng Yao huffed, rolling his eyes at him.

“If I agree,” he said, with no intention whatsoever of agreeing, “will you finally show me your saber?”

If there was innuendo in there – well. He was only a man, after all.

“Perhaps one day,” A-Jue said. “It’s not a privileged I give to everyone.”

Meng Yao tried to parse whether that was flirting. He couldn’t quite tell.

“Well, your saber is very large,” he said, probing. “Maybe you should take it out more often.”

“When I take out my saber, someone dies,” A-Jue said, and – probably not flirting, then. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally skewer you.”

Possibly very strange flirting? Meng Yao wouldn’t put it past A-Jue.

“Yes, well,” he said, straightening his robes and settling back into professional mode. “You have fun with your exercise, but leave me out of it.”

A-Jue escorted him back to his office first, conscientious as always.

Once he was gone, Meng Yao rang a certain bell and summoned Sisi, whose freedom was probably the best investment he’d ever made – she’d merged into the palace staff without leaving so much as a trace behind, acting as though the other girls were her sisters and she’d been there forever, and she was more than willing to report on everything she learned.

Also, she’d retained enough of her looks that everyone thought that Meng Yao only summoned her for sex, making A-Jue’s occasional disappearances for training purposes the perfect time for Meng Yao to meet with her without suspicion – he’d given up most of his paranoia surrounding A-Jue, but that was no reason to share all of his tricks.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted A-Jue and Sisi to meet.

“When you’re done fucking him, can you share?” Sisi asked after she put down the tray of snacks – buns and a pot of tea, all of which she sampled before his eyes in the name of sharing food. “Man like that deserves to be common property.”

“I’m not whoring him out,” Meng Yao said, a warning in his tone, and Sisi sighed dramatically.

“Tell me you’re at least having a good time with all those muscles,” she said. “Someone ought to be.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes.

“Where’s the trouble coming from this time?” he asked, deciding to elide the issue entirely. “I keep hearing whispers and people look nervous, the way they do before some sort of trouble, but neither gentry nor merchant class seem to have produced anything out of the ordinary, and I can’t imagine it’s the farmers again after last time.”

“You’re looking out, you should be looking in,” she said.

“The Emperor’s court?”

That could be a serious problem. Any political turmoil that happened within the Nightless City would have ramifications well beyond it.

“His harem,” Sisi said, her face alight with the pleasure of gossip. “Word’s come back from the south – turns out that the Emperor took one of the Imperial Consorts with him for his trip.”

Even Meng Yao’s eyebrows raised.

“And with the Empress in seclusion, well…”

It wasn’t as though the Empress had a strong maternal family as a backing – no one even knew what her surname was – but she’d been there for years and years, practically part of the décor. Replacing her with one of the Consorts would be…a change.

The Nightless City hated change.

“Could you ask to see her?” Sisi asked. “Just as proof of life…”

“I could,” Meng Yao said, because technically he had authority over everyone, “but I won’t. Why would I invite trouble for myself? I’d have to explain to the Emperor why I interfered with his harem.”

“Good point,” Sisi said, although she looked disappointed.

“Which Consort?”

“The rumor says A-Sang,” she said. “The one that likes to carry scholarly fans.”

“A-Sang? Really?”

“I know! We all thought that the Emperor didn’t even like A-Sang – everyone agrees that A-Sang never got any imperial visits before this; the Emperor never spent a night in A-Sang’s rooms, never even shared a meal, nothing. But why else would he take A-Sang with him on a months-long journey?”

Why indeed. The Emperor remained as unfathomable as ever. Meng Yao wondered briefly if Wen Ruohan really had murdered the Empress in her seclusion, faking her presence with a note…still, it seemed implausible. Why would he bother?

“I heard a rumor once,” he said instead. “About A-Sang.”

Like all good spies and shit-stirrers, Sisi was immediately at full attention – she knew that Meng Yao was not inclined to gossip for the pleasure of it, the way she was, and therefore he would only volunteer information if he intended for her to spread it.

“A-Sang is the Empress’ family,” Meng Yao said, and Sisi’s eyes went wide. “Younger sibling.”

Younger brother, he thought, though he didn’t say anything – he didn’t actually know for sure. It was hard to tell. Wen Ruohan didn’t lock away his wives the way some men did; on the contrary, he enjoyed bringing them out for celebrations to show them off. But the Empress was invariably veiled, swathed in silks without a hint of skin showing, always seated in her chair as if she were kneeling in penance, never moving; Meng Yao, who only saw her from a distance during the celebrations, sometimes almost thought she might not have legs. In daily life, she sometimes attended the Emperor’s court, but always remained seated behind her veils and sometimes even a screen, little more than a silhouette from which, rarely, notes emerged but no voice ever did.

Naturally, if the Empress preferred to be veiled, that meant the other wives had to at least pretend to follow her lead. And that meant veils and concealing clothing, even if some of them interpreted the concept rather loosely, with sheer veils and even sheerer clothing, meant to entice – A-Sang fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, wearing a veil that revealed his eyes and clothing that allowed him flexibility of movement without too much restraint, and while he was slender and delicate, Meng Yao was moderately certain that he was indeed male.

Not that it mattered.

Wen Ruohan had never much cared about that.

“Amazing,” Sis breathed. “So all these years, the Emperor has been refraining from touching A-Sang out of respect for the Empress, and now the little sister wife has finally made her move…”

Meng Yao had said none of that, but it served him to muddle the waters a little, mostly to see who would try to clear it up. Not that it could be, as his information about their familial connection was accurate – gleaned from a careless comment by Wen Ruohan himself, no less – but it interested him to know who would try regardless.

“Go,” he said, and Sisi left, all but floating, and it wasn’t long before A-Jue returned, all shiny with sweat and exertion, looking incredibly fuckable.

“You worked near the harem, right?” Meng Yao asked him, mind still focused on the bubbling little scandal that he just knew would become an issue that could wreck his thus far successful regency. “Do you have any connections there?”

“Not really?” A-Jue said. “Most of the wives are scared of me.”

Typical.

“Is there something you’d like me to find out for you..?”

“No need,” Meng Yao said. He’d never met anyone less well suited to be a spy than A-Jue. “But it may be an avenue of future threats, so keep it in mind.”

“I’m not going to let anyone from the harem harm you,” A-Jue said, oddly fierce. “Not anyone. Don’t worry.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nieyao #my fic #my fics #good help

[get-shiggy-with-it]

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

[scatter-the-stars]

Hi! I have a prompt. Kurt and Blaine hate each other but somehow can't stop having sex.

They’re not fuck buddies.  Fuck buddies would imply that they like each other.  And liking each other would mean being civil in any way to one another.  No, what they are is fuck enemies.  They are two people who hate each other’s guts, but seem to keep falling into bed and having the hottest hate sex that is born from, not from fighting, but from despising each other.  That anger and hatred they have for each other fueling their intense, hot fucking.

If he could change things, make it to where he doesn’t come the hardest because of Blaine Anderson’s cock, he would.  Because the last person he wants to give him the kind of pleasure he’s been experiencing this past year shouldn’t be at the hands of the guy whose life he would happily watch fall apart.

This wasn’t even meant to happen.  It was a stupid fucking drunken mistake he made last year at a Fourth of July party.  Only an inebriated him would let Blaine bend him over the arm of their friend’s couch in the pool house and fuck him until he screamed so hard he went hoarse and ruined the material of the couch.  Never would a sober him spread his legs for someone like Blaine.

That’s what he thought.  What he wanted to believe.

Until a two weeks after that first time when he let Blaine fuck him up against his front door while he was perfectly clear-headed and thinking straight.  That moment was born of weakness, and being horny.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Blaine had fucked him.  Couldn’t stop his traitorous body from being affected and remembering the way Blaine made him feel.  How his cock felt inside him.

Blaine knew too.  Knew what he wanted as he watched him with a knowing smirk the entire night they spent with their friends having a small get together.

He tried to deny it.  Not only to Blaine, but to himself.  Tried to buy the lie he told Blaine when he confronted him in his kitchen and said You want my cock again with a grin on his sinful lips.

His reply of Fuck you was said with such seething vehemence, that for a moment he believed the anger he put into the words.  Believed he could forget what Blaine gave him.  But his body betrayed him when Blaine roughly grabbed his chin and yanked him close until he could smell the cologne on his skin and the red wine on his breath.

Blaine’s fingers on his chin roughly dug in without a thought or care to the pain he was causing.  He saw the enjoyment in Blaine’s eyes when he let out a little whimper when he squeezed hard enough to elicit a sharp stinging pain.  He hated him for causing him pain.  But hated himself even more for enjoying it; for wanting more.

The words I can make you moan like a whore again harshly spoken with cocky pride into his ear had him seeing red.  Not at the spoken words of truth.  But at his body instantly reacting and desperately wanting just that.  At his stomach clenching and cock throbbing.

He was proud of himself for managing to say I don’t want shit from you without skipping a beat, or with a shaky voice.

Blaine saw through his bullshit, though.  Pushed him up against his front door with no resistance after all their friends had left and fucked him until he came around his cock twice.

That night, Blaine fucked him to six Earth-shattering orgams that left him angrily sated.  And pissed off that he wanted more from the guy he loathed completely.

That night started what they share now.

They fuck.  That’s all it is.  All they want from the other.  Barely show any civility to the other while it’s happening.  It’s only about getting off.  About scratching that itch the other seems to be the only one that knows how to perfectly scratch.

Wild animals in heat is how he would describe it.  How he sees what they share.  There’s no deeper meaning to when they fuck other than to achieve what they want.

No one knows.  None of their friends or family.  Not even the guys they both tried dating in the past year.  Both of whom who were quickly dismissed from their lives when they realized they couldn’t get from those guys what the other gave them.

He can still remember the proud and smug smile on Blaine’s lips when he showed up at his door two months into being with James.  Glared at him while stepping into his place.  Bit and clawed at his skin to show his anger while he fucked him so good that he screamed out his release in a way James never came close to making him do.

Blaine fucked him five times that night.  Smacked his ass in such a rough way that it seemed as if he was punishing him for attempting to try and find what he knew only he could give him.  Filthily whispered into his ear Only my cock can make you feel this good while ramming inside him.

He broke up with James a week later.

The proud smugness that Blaine wore in that encounter was returned in kind when he saw him try to attempt to be with a guy called Cody.  Wore it without guilt when Blaine showed up on his doorstep a few weeks into his relationship.  Growled into his ear My ass is the only one that squeezes your cock perfectly while he angrily fucked him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what Blaine was angry about.  Didn’t really care.  Assumed he hated that his relationship with Cody wasn’t going to work out.  Whatever the reason, he gladly took the punishment Blaine doled out on his ass repeatedly that night.  Enjoyed every orgasm Blaine gave him.  

They fuck.  It’s nothing more and nothing less.

Currently gripping two rungs of his staircase as Blaine fucks him, ass already sore from the two other times earlier, he lets out an obscene moan when Blaine sinks his teeth into his shoulder and roughly bites down on his flesh.  His ass grips Blaine’s cock as pain shoots through him.

Sweat dampens and beads over his skin.  His heart pounds and lungs try to take in breathfuls of air.  His body aches from the two times they’ve already fucked.  But hungers for the orgasm Blaine is working him up to.  Chases after it like a dog chasing a fox; desperate to catch it and bask in the joy of catching it.

Blaine covers his hands on the rungs.  Squeezes tight as he rolls and grinds his hips into his ass.  Gently bites along his shoulder to his ear.  Nips at the lobe.  Growls, “This ass missed my cock.”

Kurt turns his head and glares at Blaine.  “I haven’t missed shit from you.”

Blaine smirks and chuckles.  “Then why did you come so fucking quick the first time I fucked you?”

“Fuck you!”  No way will he ever admit that he missed Blaine in any capacity.

Kurt cries out when Blaine slams inside him so hard there’s a hint of pain that follows the movement.

“You’re a mouthy little shit, you know that?”  Blaine grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head back.  Drags his teeth along the exposed column of his throat.  Bites at his jaw.  Growls in an angry voice, “Maybe I should shove my cock into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”

He narrows his eyes at the guy he simultaneously wants to punch and beg to fuck him harder.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he snarls in reply.

Blaine lowers his mouth to his.  Not to kiss him.  But to bite his lower lip.  Sinks his teeth into his soft flesh deep and hard enough to draw blood.

The metallic taste that hits his tongue when he runs it along his abused lip thrills and excites him in a way he would never have anticipated before he started screwing Blaine.

He clenches around Blaine at the taste.

Eyes screw shut and he holds in a moan when Blaine runs his tongue along his lip; licks away the drop of blood gathered there.

For a brief moment he imagines what it would be like if Blaine covered his mouth for a kiss.  How would it feel?  How would it taste?  Would Blaine’s mouth fit perfectly against his own the way his cock fits perfectly in his ass?  Would it feel as good as when Blaine fucks him?

He lets himself wonder for a few seconds before dismissing those ridiculous thoughts.

He doesn’t need Blaine’s kisses.  Doesn’t need those questions answered.  All he ever needs or wants from him is what he’s already getting.

They don’t kiss.  Never have and never will.  Because kissing is intimate and personal in a way they don’t want to include in the fucking they do.  Kissing is crossing a line they don’t need to cross.

Blaine’s other hand drops and wraps around his aching, throbbing cock.  Grips it tight and strokes the hard flesh in the way he loves.

Kurt shoves into his tight fist.  Continues to chase that release he so desperately wants.  Grips the rungs of the staircase harder as he chases and chases and chases.  His hands ache and body thrums.  His cocks throbs hard and balls pull tight.

Just like a band pulled too taut, his body snaps.  He screams as his release slams into him.  Thick, hot jets of cum erupt from his cock and coat Blaine’s fist.  Paint the wall in front of him.  Pleasure ripples through him until it’s all he knows for several minutes.

After, after Blaine comes and pulls out of him, after he gets rid of the used condom and does up his jeans, he pulls on the robe he was wearing when Blaine knocked on his door.  Walks to his kitchen for something to drink while Blaine finishes putting himself together.

There’s no small talk or formalities.  They don’t thank the other for a good time.  They go their separate ways like they always do.

By the time he leaves the kitchen a minute later Blaine is gone.

****

“Blaine is coming.”

Kurt glares at Owen, his best friend, three days later at that news.  “Why?”

“Because he said he wasn’t doing anything tonight.  So I invited him.”

He lets out a huff of indignation.

Owen just rolls his eyes.  “I still don’t get why you two hate each other?  Didn’t  you two go to the same high school?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”  Owen curiously inquires for what seems like the millionth time in the four years since Blaine and him met up again.

“He’s an asshole is what happened,” he replies before downing the rest of his drink.

Blaine joins them twenty minutes later.  Kurt takes one look at him and walks away.  Ignores his amused chuckle.

Instead of thinking about the guy who ruined his life in high school, he drinks and dances the night away with the cute guy who catches his eye.  Lets him pull him close and roam his hands all over his body.

The guy’s touch in no way affects him.  There’s no thrill or pleasure.  Only a blank nothingness.

Although he wants to go home with the guy, he already knows who he’s going to go home with.  Knows who he’s going to pick.  Like it’s a choice to begin with.

That’s how a few hours later he finds himself at Blaine’s place sinking down around his cock.

“Knew you wanted this cock.”  The corner of Blaine’s mouth tips up in a cocky grin.

“Fuck you!”

As he looks at the face of the man who betrayed him all those years ago, Kurt finds himself wondering, not for the first time, how different things could have been if Blaine wasn’t such an asshole and a coward when he was younger.

Would they have actually liked each other?  Would they have been more than the friends they once were?  Would they be in love?

He grimaces at the idea of being in love with Blaine Anderson.  Hates even the thought of it.  Never in his life would he ever lower himself to having any kind of feelings for Blaine outside of hatred.

Hips lift and lower.  He repeatedly slams himself down on Blaine’s cock.  Rocks and grinds down on it.  Grips the back of the couch and increases the force.  Shudders when he manages to hit his prostate.

Big, strong hands roam down his back and grab at his ass.  Blaine plants his feet on the table in front of him and roughly thrusts up into him.  Shoves himself as deep and as hard as he can over and over again.

Hazel eyes blown wide with pleasure stare up at him.  He hates those eyes.  Hates the pain-filled memories they bring up every time he looks into them.  Hates that they haunted his dreams for years.  But really fucking hates that those are the eyes he has to look into to get the pleasure he wants.

“I fucking hate you,” he says with every ounce of truth to the words.

“Fine,” Blaine replies, the least bit affected by his words.  “Hate me while you finish riding my cock.”

He rides Blaine until he’s crying out with his release.  Until he’s spasming around his cock.

They don’t say a word to each other after.  Only sit there and wait until the other is ready to go again.  Go upstairs to Blaine’s bedroom and fuck their continued anger and hatred for each other out on the other.

*****

They continue on like that for weeks.  Have angry, hate-fueled sex to get that fix they need.  Barely speak to each other in their normal lives.

Until it all comes to a head in the last days of summer.  And the hidden truths of everything is revealed.

At the beach party Owen is throwing, bottle of beer in hand, Kurt scowls when he sees Blaine walk out of the house and towards the small group that has formed around the bonfire Owen started.

“What’s with the pinched face?”  Vince asks when he notices his angry look.

“Owen invited that asshole.”  He tips the bottle in the direction of Blaine.

Everyone looks to where Blaine makes his way closer to them.

“You ever going to tell us why you two hate each other so much?”  Claire asks.  “What the fuck happened to cause such animosity and anger?”

Kurt waits until Blaine is close enough to hear him before he answers.  “Blaine took upon himself to humiliate me in high school.”

He looks to Blaine and sees the guilt fill his features as realization dawns on him what is going on.

“How?” someone asks.

He looks away from him and back to his group of friends.  “He asked me to prom.  Which was a big deal for me because Blaine was the most popular guy in high school.  And I was a nobody.  The outcast because I was the only out gay kid.  You get the gist.”  His friends nod their heads.  “Anyways, I think nothing of it because Blaine and me are somewhat friends.  And I thought, Hey, maybe he’s been hiding who he was and wants to come out.”  He looks to Blaine and glares.  “I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

Kurt never looks away from Blaine as he says, “Before prom, I went to Blaine’s house because he said he wanted to take pictures.  Imagine my confusion when I get to his place and all his friends and half the school is there.  I stood on his walkway and had red paint poured over me by him.”  He looks back to his friends, who all now look at Blaine with their own anger.  “He fucking Carrie-d me.  Laughed while saying Did you actually think I wanted a faggot like you?”

“Kurt-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.”  He moves his arm before Blaine can grab it.  His anger for Blaine renewed in a way that feels as if he’s that gullible eighteen year old on Blaine’s parents’ walkway.

Before anyone can say or do anything, he turns and bolts for the house.  Inside, he runs up the stairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.  Shuts the door before sitting on the other side of the bed; hidden from anyone who may come looking for him.

Knees hugged to his chest, he cries through his hurt and anger.  Cries for that young boy whose life was ruined.  Who was traumatized to the point of missing the rest of his senior year of high school.  The young boy who truly thought he was wanted by the guy he was secretly in love with.

He snorts now thinking about how ridiculous he was for thinking he ever loved Blaine.  Because when he looks back on what he felt for him, it wasn’t love.  It was a deep attraction and nothing else.  A strong lust that felt like love to his teenage self.

He was stupid then.  But not now.  Now, he knows better.  Knows not to fall for any of Blaine’s charms or looks.  Only sees the guy he uses to get off.

When the door opens some time later, he knows who it is without having to look.  Isn’t sure if he wants him there or not.  Feels a mixture of anger and desire swirling inside him.  Because no matter how much he hates Blaine, he still wants him.  His traitorous body still craves his.

“Kurt…”

He hears the bed dip.  Doesn’t look.  Keeps his eyes on the view outside the window in front of him.

The silence between them stretches on for minutes that feels like hours.

Blaine finally speaks.  “I have to tell you something.”

“I don’t care for anything you have to say,” he replies, infuriated.  “Go away.”

Feet hit the floor.  He thinks Blaine has left only to be surprised when he steps in front of him a moment later.  He glares up at him.

“Go away,” he repeats.

“No.”  Blaine drops down in front of him.  Determination on his face.  “You’ll hear what I need to tell you.”

Rather than fight Blaine on this, too tired to do so, he looks at the wall and waits for whatever Blaine wants to tell him.

“I’m sorry, okay?  I’m sorry for what I did to you in high school,”  Blaine says, guilt and regret in his voice.  “There is no excuse for what I did.  For how deeply I hurt you.  I was an asshole back then.  And I was so fucking scared of who I truly was and what I felt for you that I did anything to hide those feelings.  I did what I thought was necessary to protect myself from anyone possibly figuring out who I really was.”

Kurt looks at him and snorts.  “Scared, pathetic jock.  How fucking original,” he sarcastically states.  “So fucking scared of what everyone else would say or think.  Tell me?  Was Daddy part of the reason you hid?”  When Blaine looks down, he knows he has his answer.  “Of course.”

“We all aren’t you, Kurt.  We don’t always get the great dad who understands,” Blaine defends.

“Don’t fucking put this on me.  You could have done things differently.  But you chose the cowards way out.”

“Yes, I did.  And I regret that choice every fucking day.  I regret…”  Blaine takes a breath.  Sits back on his ass.  “I regret that it took you away from me.  That I never got to tell you how I felt about you.”

Curiosity gets the best of him.  “How do you feel about me?”

“Kurt…”  Blaine licks his lips as a hint of nerves shows in his features.  “I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen.  Since that first night I gave you a ride home from work.”

Kurt thinks back to that night.  To the fear of walking home alone in the dark that was quickly replaced with relief and a sense of safety when Blaine pulled up beside him and happily offered to drive him home.  Remembers how his heart raced and skin flushed at the sexy, popular jock taking notice of him in any way.

“You hate me,” he says in a soft, confused voice.

Blaine lets out a low chuckle.  “I don’t.  I never did.  I didn’t want you knowing how I truly felt because I knew you would chew my heart to pieces.”

“You’re right.”  That’s the truth.  If he knew how Blaine really felt about him, he would have never allowed what they do to have happened.  Would have purposely ripped his heart to shreds to return the pain he had inflicted on him.

A loud silence follows Blaine’s confession.  They sit there just breathing and not saying a word.  Kurt listens to the distant sound of waves crashing to shore and his friends' laughter.

Blaine is the one to break the silence.  Asks, “What now?”

What now?  That is the big question.  What happens now that the entire truth has just been laid bare at his feet.

Some part of him wants to stomp all over that truth.  To do what Blaine feared he would do and break his heart.  But another part wants to be a grownup about this.  To take time to think things through.

“I… I don’t know,” he replies in a small voice.  “You hurt me in the worst way possible, Blaine.  I can’t easily forgive you for that.  I still carry this hatred inside me.  It won’t go away anytime soon.”

Blaine gets up onto his knees and moves close to him.  Grabs his chin and says in a soft, honest voice, “You want me to wait for you?  Then I’ll wait.  I’ll wait years for you to forgive me.  To give me a chance.  I’ll do whatever it takes.  I want you and you alone, Kurt.  I’ll wait forever for you.”

When lips crash to his, every instinct he has is telling him to shove Blaine away.  To stop this most intimate thing they’ve ever done.  But when he lays his hands on his strong, defined chest, he finds his fingers curling against the material of his shirt and pulling him closer.

The kiss is explosive and gentle.  It’s tender and sweet.  Sends a shiver through him.  Has him softly gasping and whimpering.

He parts his lips for Blaine’s tongue when he teases it at the seam of his mouth. Moans at the sharp jolt that runs through him when he thrusts their tongues together.  Forgets about his anger and hatred and lets himself fall into the wonderful pleasure.

Both of them are gasping when Blaine pulls away after several minutes.  Kurt eyes his kiss-swollen, red lips.  Suddenly finds himself wondering what they would feel like learning his body.

But as he sits there, his anger begins to seep back in.  The guy in front of him slowly goes back to being the person who humiliated him.  Who ruined his life.  He lets it take hold of him.  Lets it pull him back into his hatred.

“I hate you,” he says with raw honesty.

One confession and a great kiss will not change that.

Blaine sadly smiles.  “I know.”  He kisses him again.  This time, before he pulls away, Kurt bites him.  Takes great pleasure in hurting Blaine when he sees the blood on his lip.

Blaine touches a finger to the small cut.  Grins with pride.  “I’ll wait,” is all he says before standing and walking away.

Kurt is left there alone to wonder if he will actually truly forgive Blaine and give him the chance he wants.  Wonders if he’ll leave Blaine waiting forever.  Doesn’t see a problem with that if it should happen.

****

It takes time.

It doesn’t happen overnight.  Or in a couple of weeks or months.

It takes time.

Months and months pass before his hatred begins to diminish.  Until he can look at Blaine and not feel anger toward him.  Then more months pass before he is able to hangout with Blaine as a friend.  After that, weeks pass before he lets Blaine pull him close and kiss him after their first date.

Then weeks pass before they sleep together again.  And for the first time, instead of fucking, they make love.

A little over two years after first sleeping together is when Kurt realizes he’s in love with Blaine.  He almost hates himself for it.  Would if he wasn’t so fucking happy.

He figures people are right; there is a thin love between love and hate.

#klaine #klaine fic #Kurt Hummel #Blaine Anderson #somewhat sticks to the prompt

[metize]

Surrender to me. Do not dare defy me.

Tir-Cendelius x F!Godwoken (NSFW)

Tags: Canon Dialogue, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Biting, God Complex, i mean... tir is a god so not really, Dom/sub, Master/Pet, just a little, as a treat, Worship, Spoilers

Summary: “I own you. I have tasted your flesh.” He approached you, you were still weak, doing your best to hold yourself up, not daring to walk away from the god. He now only stood inches away from you. “Now you shall give me your all. Your body. Your soul. The others are coming and I have work to do. I must do what you could not. I must become the one god of this world.”

or

Tir-Cendelius fucks you as if the Academy isn't falling to pieces around you.

“Remember me?” your eyes widened as you are faced with the embodiment of Tir-Cendelius, your people’s god. This time not in some fog induced hallucination, but right in front of you. His voice sent shivers down your spine. He smiled grimly at the reactions he got out of you before looking around him and turning serious once again. “This has not gone as planned, and the fault is yours. You have brought the elves to their ruin. You have failed me.”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words. It was easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one going through hell and back in the name of divinity. You were in The Academy, with bruises and scratches marking your body from Dallis’ timely interruption, destroying the whole place and hurting you and your companions in the process. Tir-Cendelius had always gotten on your nerves with his constant talking down to you. You opened your mouth to talk back to your god but he spoke up before you could get a word out.

“I own you. I have tasted your flesh.” He approached you, you were still weak, doing your best to hold yourself up, not daring to walk away from the god. He now only stood inches away from you. “Now you shall give me your all. Your body. Your soul. The others are coming and I have work to do. I must do what you could not. I must become the one god of this world.”

He looked different to what he looked like in your dreams. His eyes glowed with the Source running through his veins, but instead of the blue-green hue of Source it instead burned bright red. His long hair in your mind, bright white, was here pitch black. And his whole form was of a glitchy black static. His form was decaying and he wanted yours. That’s what he meant.

You wanted to stand your ground but his hand reached to your face, caressing your cheek as if he was trying to tame a wild animal.

“Surrender to me. Do not dare defy me. It won’t hurt at all.” He ordered, his voice smooth. He noticed the bleeding on your face and pressed his palm, healing the wound on your forehead. You felt your heart beating quickly, always on your guard, still needing to find a way out of The Academy that was slowly crumbling to ash.

He noticed your thoughts straying away from him and grabbed your face more harshly, you gasped as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Kneel.” He said through gritted teeth.

You shouldn’t. You had things you needed to do. You couldn’t betray your comrades. But this was Tir-Cendelius, this was your god. He wanted your submission, you were his chosen one after all. He was a bastard, an arrogant asshole, but you couldn’t help but want to be good to him.

You felt your knees give in, your legs making their minds before you did. You give yourself to Tir-Cendelius. You give yourself to your god. You kneel.

With a snarl he leapt. His nails pierced your shoulder, pinning you to the ground. You gasped as your back hit the floor. His mouth was on yours in an instant, hungrily kissing you. He bit your lip forcing you to part your lips for him, he deepened the kiss while his hands tore your armor to shreds.

"Good girl… Give yourself to me. Surrender to your god, to your master.” he praised your submission, the way he spoke sounded almost hypnotic.

You thought you were losing your mind, you shouldn't be giving in to him. Deep down you knew this. But all you wanted in that moment was for Tir-Cendelius to fuck the life out of you. Which he intended to do, quite literally.

His kiss tasted of blood, yours of course. A blood sacrifice, one of many, to serve your master. Your armour was easy enough for him to tear apart, being clad in traditional elven armour. The foliage adorning your chest was tossed away to make way for Tir-Cendelius to kiss your breasts.

He doesn't take long with foreplay, he's in a rush to consume you once and for all.

"I have imagined this moment, my pet. Taking your body for myself, having complete control over you…" he smiled, his hands wandering your body until he reached to cup your sex. His touch was warm, almost burning hot, it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as he started to really touch you where you needed him. "I knew your obedience would not falter. You understand your place beneath me, don't you."

You answered with a whimper, you felt his fingers entering you. You hadn't realized you needed this, until now. His long digits reached deep inside you, then the god crooked them to reach a specific spot that made you moan. He smiled and started fingering you faster, making sure to hit it with every thrust. It was overwhelming and you couldn't hold back your voice. His deep red eyes watched you intently.

"I am doing you a favor for taking you like this, you did fail me after all." His voice was low as he pulled his fingers from you. "You will be good for your master now, won't you?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, please, master."

He kissed you again, his roughness never softening. You felt his cock press against your entrance and it made you shiver with anticipation, you wanted to serve your god, you wanted to be good to Tir-Cendelius so bad.

He entered you fast in one harsh thrust of his hips, you cried out at the sudden feeling. He filled your cunt completely and before you could have the chance to get used to the intrusion, the elven god was already moving.

"Behave, girl. Let go. Submit." he said in between thrusts. You moaned as his cock hit deep inside you.

"Y-yes, master… please take me."

You heard him groan at your words before biting on your already bruised neck. It hurt, his teeth were sharp and you felt them break skin.

"You belong to me."

His pace got faster, his unnatural body holding your frame down on the floor as he fucked you senseless. He got his hand between you and pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in circles. You screamed the god's name holding onto him for dear life.

"Come for me, pet. Let it be the last thing you'll ever do. Serve your god!" He grunted right against your ear and you couldn't help but comply.

"Master… yes… T-Tir-Cendelius… ah!" Your whole body shook as you orgasmed fŕom your god's ministrations. You could feel his thrusts faltering.

You let him use you to his pleasure and it didn't take long for him to reach completion. He groaned as he came and you felt everything going black. This was it.

You gave yourself to him completely as you felt his presence take over your body. You sacrificed yourself for your god.

#dos2 spoilers #dos2 #divinity original sin 2 #divinity 2 #tir-cendelius

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Settling Debts

Part 1

Mitch was in the middle of licking spiced rum off Katrina’s breasts when a man came bursting into the room, red-faced and panting. Mitch pulled his loaded pistol off the bed-side table a second later, leveling it at the man while Katrina quickly pulled up the sheet. 

“Captain—!” The man stopped short, eyes wide and hands raised. Jones, Mitch recognized after a beat, a new member of the crew. He lowered his pistol. “Captain, you need—to come—with me,” Jones gasped through his labored breaths. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Stiles.” 

“What happened?” Mitch asked again, demanded. Something cold and awful wrapped around his heart, squeezing, choking him. He looked at Katrina, found the same fear on her face that he was sure was mirrored on his own. 

“Please—the beach—you need to see—”

“Get out, we’re coming.” 

Jones gratefully nodded and bowed out of the room, leaving Mitch and Katrina to dress in fast, tense silence. 

Together, the three of them ran towards the beach. Jones was already winded from his sprint to the inn to retrieve them, so they left him lagging behind. Katrina saw Stiles first. 

“Oh God, is that—” 

Mitch stopped short, Katrina careening into him. Stiles was strung up before them for the whole crew to see, battered and bloody. Several men were already in the process of cutting him down, and it was only by Stiles’ agonized whimpers that Mitch knew he was even still alive. 

He grabbed the nearest crewman and demanded, for the third time, “What the fuck happened?”

“It was the crew of the Ghost, sir. The new captain, he said he wanted the woman, but you keep too close an eye on her. He said—” The man cut himself off, sun-backed face going pale. Mitch shook him roughly. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry, captain. He said one of your whores was as good as the other.” That awful coldness inside of Mitch threatened to swallow him whole at what those words meant for Stiles. He was swaying wildly between white-hot rage and shocked numbness when he pushed the crewman away and said, “Find Deaton.” 

Mitch found his way to Stiles, though he couldn’t say how he’d done it. One moment he was standing, the next he was dropping down in the sand beside him, hands shaking as he took one of Stiles’ between his own. The only place he wasn’t afraid to touch. 

Katrina held Stiles’ head on her lap, gently brushing her hand over his blood-matted hair. She was afraid to touch him, too, not wanting to aggravate his sun-ravaged skin. He must have been up there for hours, while the crew left camp in favor of finding their pleasures in town. Just has he himself had done. 

I never should have left him. 

“Stiles,” Mitch said softly. Stiles opened his eyes and cracked a smile. Mitch saw red as fresh blood ran down his split lips, dripping down his chin. 

“‘M okay, love,” Stiles said, so obviously false it couldn’t even be called a lie. 

“You’re not. But I’ve sent for Deaton.” Stiles exhaled raggedly, some of the tension leaving his body. “You’ll be alright, Stiles.” 

“What are you going to do?” Katrina asked quietly, glancing around. Painfully aware that for Stiles to have been left so long to suffer, in full view of the other crews making camp on the shore, they must have been complicit. 

“I’m going to kill them. Everyone that laid a hand on him. I’ll raze this entire fucking beach if I have to.” 

And then Deaton was there, kindly ordering Mitch out of his way, and the sun was setting over the water, and he still hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand, couldn’t bring himself to pull away, to leave him again. 

“Go,” Katrina said softly. “I’ll stay with him.” 

Four men came forward to help Deaton get Stiles to the longboats, so they could return to the ship. 

“Make sure everyone is on the ship by morning,” Mitch ordered. 

“But captain—we just got back, surely we can take a few days—”

“No. Any man that’s not prepared to sail by sunrise can join another fucking crew.” 

Mitch found two other men that would follow his orders without question or hesitation, and set off. Night was falling fast, and he intended to ensure it was the last one the crew of the Ghost would ever see. 

“Wait!” Deaton’s apprentice, Scott, scrambled into step beside him, struggling to attach a cutlass to his belt. “I’m coming with.” 

“You understand what we’re doing?” Mitch asked. Scott had never had much stomach for killing; Mitch tolerated the aversion only because of his training with Deaton. If he couldn’t fight for the crew, he could at least patch them up afterwards. 

Scott set his jaw with a grim look and nodded once. “They hurt Stiles,” was all he said, and it was enough. 

“Fine. Try not to get yourself killed.” 

***

Once the sky had fully darkened, Mitch and his men snuck into the Ghost’s camp, features darkened with soot to better blend into the shadows. Mitch’s orders had been clear and concise: leave none alive. 

The first tent held four men, passed out drunk. Mitch stood above the one nearest, covered his mouth to stop a scream, and plunged a knife into his throat. A slow, wet press that made blood gush over his hand, spraying wildly when he pulled the knife free. Around him Scott and the other’s did the same, grim-faced. And so they made their way through the camp like specters, sowing death in their wake. 

Eventually Mitch left to track down the captain, already suspecting who he would find. Sure enough Ronnie was waiting for him in the largest of the tents, a sword in his hand and a smirk on his face. 

“Why?” was all Mitch could ask. One single word grit through his teeth. 

“You’ve made a lot of enemies here, Mitch. Lot of people who don’t like the way you run things.” Ronnie stood slowly, and Mitch’s hands tightened around his blades. “Everyone’s so afraid of you. It’s about time someone put you in your place.”

“You think you can?” Mitch snarled. I will remind you why they’re right to fear me. 

“I think I already have. You should really learn to take better care of the things that are precious to you.” 

With an enraged shout, Mitch threw his dagger across the tent. Ronnie ducked out of the way, but it was only a distraction. Mitch followed close behind, already closing the distance between them, and brought his sword down in an arc that Ronnie barely blocked. 

“I should have killed you,” Mitch hissed. Years ago, when he’d had the chance. Instead he left the bastard marooned on an island, and he’d somehow crawled his way off it and into a stolen captaincy. 

“Yes, you should have.” Ronnie bashed his head against Mitch’s and kicked him back, shouting for whatever remained of his men to take up arms. There were few enough for Scott and the others to handle it, keeping them away from his own fight. 

It was just as bloody and viscous as the last time they came together. Mitch knew they were evenly matched for strength and skill. He’d barely gotten away with his life last time. But this time, he wasn’t fighting for his own life; he was fighting for Stiles. He welcomed the numbness as a shield against Ronnie’s attempts to taunt him with everything he’d done to Stiles, and gave into the pure, white-hot rage, letting it guide his movements by pure instinct. 

Mitch was wild, feral, tearing at Ronnie with blade and nails and teeth, grappled with him in the sand and chased him through the camp, ringing steal announcing their presence to whomever still survived. 

Finally, when they were both bloody and exhausted, Mitch’s dagger locked against Ronnie’s sword between them, he made a choice. Mitch dropped his hand, screamed as the sword embedded itself in his shoulder, inches from his throat, and sank his dagger into Ronnie’s stomach. 

A wet gasp was his only answer as Ronnie’s eyes went wide, dropping slowly to look between them, at the pool of blood darkening his shirt. Several long moments later his hands slipped from his sword, and the realization set in: he’d lost. Ronnie looked up at Mitch again, finally afraid. 

“Did you really think,” Mitch said, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, “I’d let this go unanswered?” Mitch twisted the blade to hear Ronnie’s strangled scream.  “Or did you just think you could kill me first?” Then he wrenched it across one, two, three, four times, cutting raggedly through flesh and fat and muscle, and stepped away to watch bloody, pink entrails spill wetly onto the sand. 

Mitch stood there, holding his bleeding shoulder, bloody and bruised and victorious. If only it didn’t feel so hollow. 

“Captain.” It was Scott that approached, wary, hands raised and open like he was trying not to startle a wild animal. Perhaps that’s exactly what Mitch was. “Let me have a look at your shoulder.”

Mitch ignored him. 

“Burn it all,” he said, staring down at the corpse at his feet. 

No one moved to obey. 

Killing the Ghost’s crew and captain—that could be excused. They’d come for one of their own, and Mitch rightfully retaliated. But the destruction that would be wrought with a fire—it would surely spread to other camps, to those that had no hand in it. Mitch didn’t care. He turned on his men with teeth bared and eyes blazing.

“I said burn it!” Mitch shoved past Scott with a snarl, picking up a torch and throwing it into the Captain’s tent. Slowly, silently, they followed suit, until a red-orange haze lit the beach. They made their quiet escape to the water as chaos broke out, shouts echoing into the night as the fire began to spread, and finally it was over. 

Scott wrapped Mitch’s shoulder with a strip of cloth torn from his shirt to slow the bleeding until they made it to the ship, and Mitch watched the shore burn with grim satisfaction. 

#cookie writes #stitch #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #Katrina harper #the next part will be Stiles and Katrina back on the ship

[vicegrips-fr]

Pink Martinis

The night is only just beginning and the boys are trying to enjoy themselves before the evening rush when they are rudely interrupted by a man neither of them knows.

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This is the first in what I hope to be many lore posts featuring characters from both The Velvet Fang and Neo Necropolis. Apologies if this is too long for some of you and I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Language, drug mentions, alcohol, brief violence, etc. 

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- Part one -

It’s all about the thrill.

Neon lights, the smell of sweat and spilled alcohol, bodies grinding together to the sound of loud music, drugs passing between hands, and men being led to back rooms. All of these things are thrilling in their own way, but none of it comes close to the rush you get from spilling a little blood. Your blood, their blood, it’s all part of the game and the game is violence; pure and simple violence.  Azizi used to live a life of violence. That is, until he came here to the middle of bumfuck nowhere in the Wasteland. He- no, they had no choice. It was run or be killed and there’s no doubt in his mind that Chaka would have delighted in choking the life out of him. 

The thought of it, those strong hands around his throat, both disgusts and entices him.

It’s almost like you have a deathwish.

“Hey Zi!”

Azizi turns his head to the source of the sweet and familiar voice, a smile playing about his lips as he moves over from where he’s leaned back against the bar. As per usual Gogo is dressed all in neon and animal print, the colors and patterns clashing in such a way that it both draws your eyes in and repels you for fear of going blind. “Hey babe,” he replies languidly, “You look good.” At that Gogo gives a twirl, his thick wavy hair bouncing around his shoulders. “Not as good as you,” he shoots back with a girlish giggle, “But like, thanks!” Smiling, Azizi turns his attention onto the bartender, his face illuminated in the pinks, purples, and blues of the neon lights dancing all around them. “Two pink martinis, Cyr” he drawls, elbows propped up on the bar as he leans over it seductively. Cyril is a frightening man to behold. Equal parts handsome and haunting with bright pink eyes all over his body. Or, well, one can assume so anyway. Of the many eyes that cover him only the ones on his face, neck, and tail are visible; the rest are hidden beneath his smart clothing. “Sure thing,” he replies, voice lightly accented from the Starfall Isles, “Just don’t snort anything off the bar while my back is turned. I just cleaned the damn thing.” Azizi throws his head back and laughs, the gold bangles on his arms clinking together lightly as he stands up straight. “No promises, eyes,” he purrs softly, “Me and self control aren’t friends. And besides, you clean ‘the damn thing’ every two seconds.” Cyril rolls his eyes, all of them. “Addict,” he replies not unkindly. “Neat freak,” Azizi says without malice. 

They’re both right about the other. Azizi is an addict and Cyril is an obsessive cleaner. In the end habits are habits, it’s just that some come with worse consequences than others. “Mm, pink martini,” Gogo coos, mind occupied by other things, “I wonder how they like, make it pink in the first place.” Azizi quirks a brow, a look of amusement crossing over his face. “World’s greatest mystery,” he replies fondly, “So, how many tricks are banging on your door tonight?” Pausing, Gogo counts on his fingers with his tongue between his teeth. “Three too many,” he answers finally, “But like, it’s cool. At least with the regulars who book in advance you know what to expect.” Another pause. One, two, three, four seconds pass. “Although there was that one time that a regular asked me to-” “Two pink martinis,” Cyril interrupts, sliding the pretty pink concoctions in front of the boys. “Thanks Cyr,” Azizi grins, “And hey, for the record I was a good boy and kept my snow off of your bar. Do I win a prize?” Cyril snorts at that, waving a dismissive hand in his direction as if to shoo him away like a pesky cat. “How about my gratitude?” he replies breezily. “Ew, gross,” Azizi murmurs, “That’s a shitty prize.” With an impish smile he tilts his drink just enough to splash the bar with the liquid inside. “Oops,” he says, tone sharp and teasing, “My bad.” Cyril, who is busying his hands cleaning a glass that’s already spotless, frowns. He’s used to this sort of thing by now; used to how Azizi likes to push people's buttons; used to how the man enjoys getting into fights and starting shit. But Cyril never takes the bait and Azizi doesn’t expect him to anyway- he’s just being a little shit. “Asshole,” Cyril chuckles, mopping the alcohol off the bar until it shines like a diamond again. Azizi shrugs, popping the cherry from his drink into his mouth. “And yet you still love me,” he sighs wistfully, “Some might even say you’re a glutton for punishment.” Before any of them can continue their conversation, a man approaches the bar with a look on his face that promises trouble. He’s of average height with a slim build and dressed in a suit that screams this is the nicest thing in my closet. The only truly unusual thing about him is his eyes, cyan blue. It’s unusual because most of the clientele in The Velvet Fang are from around the area, their eyes various shades of threatening reds. “You two,” the strange man says, so close now that Azizi can smell the sweat beneath the cologne he’s used to try and cover it up. “I’m sorry but do I know you?” Azizi asks, nose wrinkling in disgust as he takes a step back just to get a breath of air that doesn’t make him gag. Gogo’s mismatched eyes grow wide and he follows suit, taking a step backwards and bumping into one of the barstools, sending it clattering to the floor. Neither one of them recognize this man, but it would seem he recognizes them. “Yes- Uh, I mean no,” he stutters out, the wild look in his eyes on full display in the light of the neon sign that hangs above the bar, “You’re Chaka’s boys, aren’t you? I’d recognize the two of you anywhere and-” He pauses, the expression on his face shifting from slightly wild to confused in the blink of an eye. “Say,” he continues, brow furrowing, “What the hell are you two doing all the way out here, huh?” Anger seeps into every one of Azizi’s pores. Perhaps he should be frightened, shaken up from being recognized by someone from the home he was forced to flee, but all he can manage is anger. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps, gold canine catching the light as his lips peel back into a snarl. “You think you can just waltz up to us and start asking questions?” The man’s lips part again but before he can say a word Azizi holds up a hand to stop him, eyes hard. “Fuck. Off,” he snarls, the threat of violence clear in his voice, “It’s none of your fucking business why we’re here. Get lost, asshole.” Gogo lets out a whimper, hands flying up to cover his mouth. Violence is not something he likes or handles well. The sight of blood is enough to make his stomach feel queasy, the sound of bones breaking so horrific it makes him want to pass out, so all he can hope is that it doesn’t come to that. Annoyed, Azizi turns away to go back to his drink but is stopped by a hand lashing out to grab him by the wrist, forcing him to spin around again. Whoever this man is, he’s clearly on something and he’s got a lot of nerve. “Don’t speak to me like that,” the stranger growls, his grip tightening until he knows that there will be bruises left behind in the shape of fingers, “You think someone like you can say that shit to someone like-” Crack. Without hesitation Azizi drives his right fist so hard into the man’s face that the bones breaking in his nose can be heard over the music. To the shock and horror of the people around them the man falls to the floor in a heap. Gogo’s eyes immediately go to where his best friend is holding his injured hand, tail lashing anxiously behind him as he lurches forward to his side. It’s a miracle he doesn’t faint, but it’s different when it’s Azizi who’s the one that’s hurt.

  “Oh my god! Azizi!” he cries, gently taking Azizi’s hand in his own and turning around to examine the damage, “Are you like, okay? Holy shit!”

Looking down at his right hand Azizi can see where the knuckles are already beginning to swell and bruise. The bad news is that it hurts, the good news is his hand doesn’t appear to be broken. Good for him and for the tricks; such is the nature of his work.

“I’m fine, babe,” he replies to Gogo, eyeing the man on the ground like he might have to go in for round two, “Just some bruises, that’s all.”

Thinking quickly, Cyril grabs ice from behind the bar and rushes over to help the pair. If that asshole wants to try something else- and, frankly, he’s high enough that he might- then he’ll be there to put all six feet of himself between them. Finally the injured man does stand, wobbling back and forth uneasily on his feet before locking rage filled eyes with Azizi.

  “You’re gonna fucking regret that,” he grunts, “Just wait until Chaka hears what you whores have been up to. Just you fucking wait-”

“Out!” Cyril barks, “Out before I call in the big guns and have you hauled out of here by your hair!”

Grateful, Gogo mouths a thank you to Cyril before going back to fretting over his Azizi. He’s no medic but the bruising looks severe to him, so he holds the ice against the wounds in a desperate attempt to stop it from getting worse. Really he should be used to this, used to the threat of violence and the fear. How many fights has he seen Azizi gets into, heart pounding in his ears as he watches in abject horror, powerless to help or to stop it? The answer is far too many times.

  “As if Chaka would give you the time of day,” Azizi sneers, “Do your worst.”

But the truth is he is worried, if only just a little bit. If word gets back to Chaka that he’s here then-

You belong to me, Zi. Do you know what that means? It means you’re never going anywhere I don’t want you to go. You try that shit and watch what happens. It’s not just your ass on the line, is it?

Still the threat of violence, a little blood spilled... it’s thrilling, right? He feels alive, like waking up after a long nap.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, “Fuck.”

To be continued...

#flight rising lore #flight rising #flightrising #lore: the velvet fang #sorry if i missed something in the warnings! #still trying to get back into the groove of writing and posting lore on here

[babbushka]

Promises

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader (& KoR but not really)

2k; NSFW 

The lights pulse red, softly, slowly. It’s like a heartbeat, in the throne room, as you grind your hips down on your Supreme Leader. There are teeth on your neck, razor sharp and crooked, splitting skin and breaking blood vessels as he groans into your flesh.

It’s warm, in the throne room, steam from your bodies whispering and clinging against the cold metal of the grand architecture of the place. If you weren’t so bound, maybe you’d slap a hand against the headrest of the throne, maybe you’d watch as your wet fingers would trail all the way down.

He’s sitting in his throne, regal and imposing, looking sinister, looking menacing, looking altogether too put together for how hard his cock was inside your cunt, how hard he is for you. His palms sweat behind his leather gloves, gloves that dig deep down into the meat of your thighs as you ride him. He’s back from a mission, back from slaughtering a faction a million miles away, back and hard for you.

There’s no sound but the moans and gasps which he drags out from your throat, the groans which rumble through his chest. You feel like you’re underwater, a blanket of the Force wrapping all around you. It’s got a vice grip on your arms, pinning your wrists behind your back and keeping you in still, making sure you don’t fall off his lap.

The rough fabric of his outfit chafes against your skin, naked and flushed and scratched to high heavens. You look like you’ve been mauled by a wild animal, and some might say you had. Some might say you’ve been ravished by a monster. If he be a monster, you think as you move your hips and clench down hard, then at least he is yours.

You’re both so wrapped up in one another, licking and drooling into each other’s mouths, your cunt drooling on his cock, his cock already pulsing inside you, that you almost miss the sound of orderly footsteps shuffling in, you almost miss the sound of heavy boots thud thud thudding in time with the pulsing lights on the polished metal floor.

You want to turn your head and look, you want to see who has dared intrude upon your pleasuring your husband, but one of Kylo’s hands flies up to grip your jaw, holds you in place. You freeze though, your hips coming to a stand-still on his lap, your knees and thighs tensing against his waist, burning from the effort.

Kylo looks past you through his thick lashes, and you lavish his palm with your tongue, suck on the skin between his thumb and index finger. He looks past you to see his Knights, the KoR, kneeling at the base of the throne. He looks past you, and then back to you, your faces so close that you can see how his pupils blow wide open when he takes in the look of you.

“They want to watch.” He says, after what feels like a long while.

A shudder travels up your spine, wracks through your shoulders. Your nipples are hard, so stiff from the fucking, from the effort. Kylo senses your distress about it, and sighs low in his throat as he directs the Force to pinch and roll them, invisible hands cupping the swell of your tits.

“Is that allowed?” You gasp out, head tipping back so far that you can see them upside down, can see the lot of them, kneeling with their helmeted faces pointed towards you, all focus on you.

But as he lets his gloved hand trail down your naked body, as he presses the leather-clad thumb to your clit, as he makes you moan loud with small zig-zags on the over-sensitive and swollen bud, he takes in a sharp breath through his nose.

“That’s not up to me.” He says, and despite the trembling in your limbs, you look back up at him.

He’s so strange about things like this, you think. Kylo has killed more important people for less, has killed them for even so much as thinking about you in a sexual manner. You wonder what the logic is behind him allowing the Knights to see you in such a way. But soon you forgo all thoughts of logic at all, because there’s something thrilling about the thought of being on display.

It’s not the first time you’ve been fucked in front of an audience, not by a longshot. Kylo likes showing you off sometimes, likes making an example of his power, his claim on you. Usually those displays end with a massacre, sometimes even while he’s still coming in you, while he’s making you sob on his cock, he kills them.

You can’t imagine him killing the Knights, they’re too precious. Some are men and some are women, but all of them are wholly and completely devoted to you. When Kylo goes on missions he always leaves one or two behind, they demand it, they beg to be the one to protect you in his wake.

“They can watch.” You allow, and with that allowance the energy shifts dramatically. You can practically feel the tension in the air, can see it shimmering and crackling all around you when you say, “They’ve been good, kept me so safe while you were away. Let them watch.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Kylo smirks, only for a moment, as he pushes his hips up against yours, a signal that you should resume riding him, should resume milking his cock for all the pleasure he was worth.

“Huh?” You moan, raising your hips and lowering them, pushing yourself up and down, on and off his dick. You could barely think of anything, you’re so full, feeling the head of his cock spearing into you, hard and hot and throbbing. “Oh Kylo, oh,”

“All they ever want is to please me – to please you. That praise is buzzing around all their heads.” He whispers, even though his throat is dry.

You forget sometimes, about the hivemind, forget that there’s a feedback loop that runs round and round between their brains. It’s not as strong as the Force bond you share with Kylo, but you wonder if he’s projecting his pleasure, your pleasure, straight into their veins.

“They want you, you know.” He whispers against your ear, licks the shell of your earlobe, worries it between his teeth as you slowly slowly slowly roll your body against his, “Look at them, see how they want you?”

He turns your head so you can look over your shoulder, and now the Knights are not so stoic. Now, they’re fidgeting, adjusting their cocks in their trousers, thighs clenched together to provide some small friction. If you focus, you can hear the harsh breath through their vocoders as they watch. You think it’s an unfair view, they only get to see your back, your ass.

“They do?” You ask, even though it’s a stupid question. You can smell the sex that radiates from them, the musk. Kylo bites down hard on your jaw, bruises crooked crescents into your flesh.

“They’re going to go fuck one another in just a few minutes, I can hear it in their heads.” He murmurs, and you tear your gaze away from them to focus your attention back on your husband.

“What’s holding them back?” You ask between hiccupped moans, tears slipping down your cheeks from the stimulation, from The Force choking you, grabbing you, fucking you.

He likes that, likes fucking you with the Force, likes shoving his invisible fingers so far up your pussy that you feel it in your throat, likes stimulating your gspot and your clit and your nipples all at the same time. It’s such a pretty sound when you cry for him, he says, and so you do, you do you do you do.

“They’re waiting for my word.” Kylo answers you, even though his attention is strained too, even though he’s trying not to come, not yet. He wants to drag this out, wants you to shout for him.

“Are you gonna kill them? For seeing this, for seeing me.” You ask, your tits bouncing from the way you ride his cock, the way you guide his dick against your walls with contractions of your muscles, clenching around him and making his bare his teeth with a pleasured growl.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. They’re hard to replace, but not impossible.” He’s had enough of this, you can tell, has had enough of you being on top. He wants to rail you, wants to fuck you hard, and before you know if, the throne is tipping backwards so that it rests at an angle, and he’s flipping your positions. “As long as it’s something you want, something that makes you feel good, then they can stay.”

You nod, settling your back against the plush cushion of the throne as he fucks you hard, rough, feral. His teeth are bared and he snarls into the crook of your throat as his cock spears into your pussy, as his hands yank your thighs around his waist, as he pulls one of your legs up over his shoulder, as he forces his entire body weight on top of you.

“Kylo!” You scream for him, coming, coming so hard as he slaps his hips against yours, as the denim and leather of his clothing scrapes you up, as his grip is all over you all at once, as you can’t tell where his hands end and the Force begins.

They’re nearly rabid, the Knights, hearing you scream, hearing you cry, hearing your pussy squelch as their Supreme Leader blows his load deep into you, as he fucks you through it. He drags his cock in and out as slowly as you had been riding him, hips rolling against yours, undulating to the beat of the pulsing lights, and you shake rattle sob sob sob, moans high and loud and injecting straight to the Knight’s bloodstream.

Kylo is silent, but he must have mentally dismissed them, because before you can even blink they’re storming out of the throne room, they’re tripping over themselves, snapping at one another, nearly jumping through the spaces between one another as they race out of the room, race toward their own chambers.

You can feel his cock twitching inside you, coming hard, too hard for him to really even move. Your orgasm has you floating, has you dizzy, but you wrap your arms around your man and you hold him close, let him empty his balls into you. Something sick inside you thinks you were made perfectly for this, for taking him.

Something even more sick thinks you’d be perfect to take them all too.

“Maybe…” You say, voice hushed, not wanting to be too loud in his ear. “Maybe if they’re extra good, the next time I mean, maybe they can have a taste.”

Kylo’s cock suddenly grinds up into you with renewed vigor, and you can tell that he could get off to the thought of that, could get off easy. With his cock still inside you, he brings his hand up to your clit, massages the bundle of nerves there until you’re panting for him, breathing hard again, as even more of your combined come oozes out of your sore cunt.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.” He orders, and you grin, opening your mouth and letting him drool into it, sucking on his tongue, letting him bite your lips hard.

“Oh,” You moan, feeling impossibly full and yet still desperate for more, “Oh, I’ll keep them.”

And when Kylo looks back up at you, with his eyes flickering red and gold, with his with cheeks flushed and sweaty, with his lips swollen and red, with his hair damp and hanging in his face, you get another deep big shudder up your spine.

Because when he looks back up at you, it’s with a grin.

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Tagging some pals x  @adamsnackdriver​ @dreamboatdriver​ @kyloxfem​ @heldcaptivebychaos​ @solotriplets​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @lookinsidemyhead​ @candycanes19​ @adamsnacc-kler​ @the-wayward-rose​ @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee​ @riseofkylo​ @magikevalynn​ @tinyplanet-explorers​ @chelsjnov​ @romancedeldiablo​ @helloimindelaware​ @elfieboxcat​ @laurenshit​ @autumnlovesadam​​ @peterisparker​​ @mp938368 @ah-callie​ @mandowhoreian​

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo x reader #kylo/reader #kylo ren imagine #my writing #supreme leader kylo ren

[colorfullfalls]

Crying heals the soul

“Can I request a Embry Call imagine where you just comfort him while he cries. I feel like guys should be emotional too sometimes! Thank you!”

Tiffany Call raised her son on her own. Embry grew up without a dad, and that was just a fact. He was proud of his up bringing, it made him into the strong person he was. He didn’t need a man to be there for him to show him how to fix a tire, he learned it himself. And what he couldn’t figure out he had his friends and his friend’s dads. So not having a dad was fine. 

Until now. 

Embry had gotten off of patrol and had been headed home. He smelled an unusual scent from yards away. Not yours and certainly not his mom’s. Panic set in as he sprinted. He was meant with an odd scene. His beautiful mother sat on the porch swing, arms crossed and a slight smile on her face. That was not the odd part. The odd part was that a tall tanned middle aged man sat in the patio chair across from her. 

Embry’s mom never told him that she was seeing anyone. Not that he would care, but it would be nice to know what was going on her life. Although that wasn’t fair of him considering she lacked the knowledge of the biggest secret of his life. 

“Hey mom.” Embry climbed up the three steps and kissed his mother’s forehead. The man stiffened in his seat and stared at the tanned boy in amazement. 

“Embry, you’re home early..” His mom played with the curls on the back of his neck as he protectively sat beside her. 

“Yeah, Jake and I got the part for his bike early. And Quil came over and helped us out so it only took a couple of hours. Who;s this?” Embry nudged his head towards the mysterious male on his porch. His chair. 

Tiffany sadly smiled at her son who she raised to be a kind and honest man. Now it was her turn to be honest, “Your dad, Em. He just sort of showed up..” 

Embry swatted his mom’s hand away from his hair, “This fucker didn’t bother to show my whole life and now you let him sit on the porch that you and I built together, by ourselves?” 

“I get that you are upset-” The man tried but Embry shot him a look to kill. 

“What are you doing here man? Seventeen years and now you want to know me? My mom and I do not want you in our lives and we certainly don’t need you.” Embry spat. His mom’s hand tried to grab his bicep but he kept pushing her away. 

“I would calm down, don’t want any surprises do we?” The man lowly spoke, gesturing to Tiffany Call. 

Embry froze. Did this guy know that Embry turned? He wasn’t dumb, he knew he got the genes from his dad considering his mom was not native to this land. But how did this guy know that Embry for sure turned? Embry looked at his mom’s face and he worried that right now everything between them would be ruined. 

“Mom, go in the house.” Embry calmly demanded, pointing to the front door of the house. His mom raised her eyebrows at him, “Please mom.”

She nodded but walked inside. Embry waited until she was out of sight to shove his dad off of the porch and roughly into the yard. Anger was fueling his violence as he thought about how screwed up this moment was. He was supposed to be getting a shower and meeting you for dinner, not dealing with this asshole. 

The man grunted, turning on his stomach to stand up, “Just like me when I was a young shifter.. furious.” 

Embry snarled in fury, “You knew that I would turn, and you didn’t bother to stick around? Do you know how hard this is to sneak around behind her back? She thinks I just stay out late because I’m a wild teenage boy when in reality an animal explodes out of me.” 

“I fell in love with your mother before I met my imprint, Kelly. Your mother said that you and your girlfriend are inseparable so you already know how magnetic imprinting can be. I knocked your mom up but staying away from Kelly was not an option.” The man explained. 

“You think that justifies ditching us? I get the imprint bond, but there’s no excuse for what you did. Running off with Kelly was the choice you made. Now stick with it. Leave. Leave and don’t come back.” 

“I came to make this right!” His dad yelled, “You are my son whether you like it or not.” 

Embry dryly laughed, “By blood, yeah. In every sense of the word, dad, you failed. Leave.” 

“Be back in a few days, let you calm down a bit. Tell your mom that I’m sorry.” 

Embry rolled his eyes but watched the asshole get in his car and drive away. Embry stormed into the woods and shifted. his clothes tore into shreds. An older version of himself played through his mind over and over again. He despised that he resembled the prick that abandoned him. His paws skid as he saw your house through the clearing of the trees. He luckily found a pair of shorts in the trees that he kept around your woods. 

He needed to touch you. 

He shimmied them up his hips and ran to your house, banging on your door. The booming echoed off your walls. He was fortunate that your parents were not home. They would not appreciate the loud banging. You had just gotten out of the shower when you heard the noise. You scurried to the door with only a towel wrapped snugly around your body. You moved the blind to see your loving boyfriend. 

You opened the door and was about to yell at him for causing a ruckus when you were pulled flush against him.  His body shook against yours, his fingers clawing at your moist skin to ground himself. His face shoved into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His nose nuzzled further into you, his hands moving to host you up further against him. His hands slipped under your towel and wrapped around the back of your thighs. You were still outside and figured that you needed to get him inside to calm him. You tried to pull away but a threatening growl ripped through his throat as he only pulled you closer, his tears leaking onto your skin. 

“Do not growl at me, Embry. I don’t know what’s going on but you are having a sensory overdrive. Lets go inside.” You calmly said as he pressed a loving kiss to your neck. 

He latched onto your hand as you took him into your room. Tears leaked out of his eyes as you quickly threw clothes on and joined him on your bed. Your hands wiped away tears that continuously flowed. 

“What happened honey?” You whispered. 

“My dad showed up.” He blurted out, nuzzling his cheek into your hand. 

You made him feel better. Your skin alone was like a healing medicine when it brushed against his. Your jaw dropped at his words. Embry Call’s ghost dad appeared and broke his heart. At the moment you were determined to comfort him, but oh boy did you want to deck his so called dad. 

“Tell me everything. Explain what happened.” You sweetly said, moving so that you were laying down with his body on top of yours. His head rested on your chest as he cuddled into your warm body, as if you were the only thing keeping him on earth. Your hands carded through his messy brown locks. 

“I got home and he was just sitting there on the porch with mom. He hinted at knowing about the pack and I made her go inside. I shoved him off the porch and he explained that he loved my mom before he met his imprint. Fucking Kelly. He acted like that was a viable reason to leave behind your damn kid. Told him to leave and never come back.” 

“Serves him right. Showing up like that was idiotic on his behalf. If he shows his face again, he will have a piece of my mind.” You mumbled

“I can’t believe my mom let him even stay.” 

You shifted so that you could see his sad face, “Sometimes you care for people when they don’t deserve it. He met his imprint and moved on, but she didn’t have an automatic soulmate to heal her. She didn’t do it to hurt you.” 

“It feels like it.” 

“She loves you more than anything and you know that. She had a moment of weakness, Em. She’s human, not a big bad wolf like you.” You teased. 

He slightly laughed at your bad joke about his ability to shift from human to giant wolf. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms as his tears slowly began to halt. He felt better knowing that you were there for him. You understood his pain, but never let him act insensibly. 

“I’m sorry for growling at you. Don’t know what that was... just felt a primal urge to keep you close as possible.” 

You understood what it was. His father just ripped his life out from under his feet. You and his mom were his family and he would protect that with all of his might. You were his constant variable in his life that he could love and cherish forever. His dad showing up threatened his normal way of life, but he would not let you be a part of that. It was like the wolf side of him took over as soon as he saw you standing there in the small towel. It screamed at him to protect you and your feelings so that you would never feel like he did. 

You hummed as he moved so that you were beside him. His lips curled into a smile as he looked into your eyes, “Thank you for dealing with my shit.” 

You scoffed, “At this point you should know that your shit is my shit too. Forever.” 

He blushed but nodded, “Forever.” 

#embry call imagine #embry call #twilight imagine

[kenzieam]

About Last Night - Chapter Two

@jewels2876  @moonbeambucky  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123  @iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt  @badassbaker  @pinknerdpanda  @oliviastan17 @mizzzpink​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Lev wakes up the morning after a wild night at the Compound and realizes she hasn’t spent the night alone. The fact that the man unconscious beside her is her most trusted teammate is besides the point, he’s also her best friend and

NOW WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE DO???

*********************************************************************

Okay, this chapter is just shameless angst and self-pity, mixed in with a healthy dose of Lev’s incredible stupidity and my absolute favourite... cliffhangers.

You’ve been warned....

********************************************************************

Too late, sugar. He’s found someone else.

No. NO.

And there’s nothing you can do about it, her mind sneered.

A cold rush went through Lev and it was all she could do to not leap from the table and run.

She was becoming her mother.

She was letting love cloud her mind, dictate her actions.

No. She wouldn’t give in, she was stronger than that, baptized by the blood of the damned, literally.

If asked later how she managed to stay seated at the table and remain semi-functional, Lev wouldn’t be able to say. She’d become talented in hiding her emotions, stonewalling the therapist her father briefly tried sending her to, and disguising the true depths of her rage and sorrow as she grew from a teenager to hot-headed adult, but even she couldn’t kid herself into thinking she was successfully acting tonight.

Conversation continued without her, for if anyone noticed her discomfiture, they kindly chose to ignore it, not bringing up the fact that every single person at the table, with the exception of Bucky, Lev and Lilly, had fully expected and had in reality placed bets with each other on when their two friends would finally wake up to the attraction between them, knowing that something had gone down after the party, but not what.

Bucky’s new woman was questioned relentlessly, the guise friendly inquiry, covert ‘what the fuck, man?’ glances sent Bucky’s way whenever her attention was diverted with answering and he glowered back defiantly, refusing, with the exception of one scorching glance, loaded with too many emotions to sort out, to look at Lev.

And she felt her skin tingle every time he touched Lilly, rested his arm on her shoulders, brushed her cheek or tucked some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. If he was acting he was doing a hell of a job, there seemed to be a genuine draw between them, especially in the way Lilly would gaze at him, like he’d hung the fucking moon and, as soon as it was polite, Lev excused herself, the few bites of dessert she’d managed to choke down sour in her stomach.

Why the hell was she so upset? SHE’D WANTED THIS! SHE’D WANTED TO MAINTAIN DISTANCE, but not like this, anything but this.

And she hadn’t truly wanted distance, not really, not in the deepest parts of her heart. Once the static had cleared in her head, she’d heard the message loud and clear. Love was dangerous, love was terrifying and made fools of us all, but she would have been safe with Bucky. He wouldn’t have hurt her; he wouldn’t have let her fall. He wouldn’t have passed off lust as love and then thrown her away, driving her to insanity in the form of hysterical suicide.

He would have treasured her the way she always secretly wished to be and, at the first offering of that, she’d slashed with razor claws, wounding him perhaps permanently.

She wished for more Mead, but there was none and she instead spent the night cross-legged on the floor of her quarters, headphones secured to her ears, blasting her most angry and rage-filled death metal playlists, hoping to drown out the tears.

She shouldn’t have left her room the next morning, she wasn’t fucking hungry anyway. But she had, and the punishment had been swift and severe. Giggles preceded her arrival in the kitchen and, if she’d been listening instead of continuing to stew, she would have recognized the deep answering chuckles.

There had only been a few times in Lev’s life when she could honestly say she was breathless with shock. The first had been with her mother, slipping and sliding in her lifeblood as the woman screamed and slashed even more at her shredded forearms; the second had been when Lev had awoke disoriented under blinding lights, agony like hellfire crawling through her veins, a multitude of strange, lab-coat wearing men standing dispassionately above her, the sudden and cold realization that she’d been taken and changed, that her issues had blinded her to life’s bigger dangers and she’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, selected by HYDRA for an experimental program due to her lack of family and the extremely large chip on her shoulder and she was never going to be the same.

The third was when she had been discovered by accident and rescued by the team, half-mad in that underground bunker; her shadowy surroundings suddenly lit up and blinding her like the sun, fevered confusion and disorientation, dangerous-looking strangers all around her, their grunts of pain and surprise when she fought their hands, struggled to understand a language she’d not heard in so long. Fear and animal instinct to defend had taken over, her enhanced body too much for all but Steve and Bucky to restrain and her first real memories of freedom from that hellish cell where she’d languished, cold and slowly going insane had been of strong arms, gentle hands stroking her face and tangled hair, masculine spice and a deep, soothing voice, speaking words she no longer recognized but in a tone that calmed her nonetheless.

The forth, and final time was now, when she turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead, like she’d been slapped by the very hand that was currently caressing Lilly’s breast through her half-buttoned shirt, a shirt Lev recognized instantly, even in her shock, as the one she’d bought Bucky months ago because she’d loved how it matched his eyes. Lilly was gasping and mewling, their bodies moving in a sensual, unmistakable rhythm, Bucky’s eyes flaring with heat as they rolled upwards when her lips, hidden by her face tucked into his throat, nibbled in return for his touch and it was devastatingly obvious what they’d spent the night doing, what Lev had probably unintentionally spared herself from hearing all through the dark hours by keeping her headphones on.

What they were still doing.

Lev could smell it on them and there was no way two bodies could twine so close together if they weren’t already connected in the most visceral and primal way possible. His hand fell from Lilly’s breast, but only to drop to her hip, curling around the curve and pulling her closer still, lifting her thigh to hook around his. His eyes raised finally to Lev’s, banked lust making them look like a beast’s eyes, and his jaw clenched, teeth baring as he growled harshly. Lilly moaned as he turned his head to bite at her throat, eyes staying locked on Lev’s almost defiantly, returning the nips with an intensity that made Lilly’s hips roll against his, made her cling even tighter to his body and ratcheting up the sexual heat that was already so thick between them. Seeing Lev seemed to push him to move harder and faster, as if with each heavy thrust of his hips he was snarling at her ‘like what you see? This could have been you.’

Bucky was fucking her against the counter, her ass smacking the edge while he glared coldly over her shoulder, eyes locked with Lev’s, each heavy grunt as he thrust further driving the nail deeper into her heart and something inside her, something that cracked as she’d watched her mother die and had only continued to yawn wider with each successive hit in her life, shattered completely.

*************************************************************************************   “So, you’re volunteering to take this mission? The one I haven’t been able to bribe, cajole or threaten anyone else to take on?” Tony raised a brow at Lev, half his attention still directed to a tablet in his hand, feet resting on the edge of his desk, chair tilted back.

“Yes.” Lev waited until Stark reluctantly pulled his eyes from the screen and focussed fully on her. Understanding softened the quizzical lines on his forehead.

“You know, kid… what Barnes is doing, bringing that new girl around-”

“Doesn’t matter, he can fuck whomever he wants.”

“Yeah, but after that party we all figured you two would finally-”

“You know… that shit would have been a little more helpful before all of this. I didn’t realize Bucky felt that way, I didn’t realize I felt that way.”

“Is that why you pushed him away? According to Cap you broke his heart.”

Lev flinched. “I didn’t push him away, okay? I was scared shitless and thought we should stay friends.”

“A man doesn’t look at someone the way Barnes looked at you, if they just want to stay friends.”

And the hits just kept coming. “Again, might have been a little more helpful to me before.”

“Why were you so scared?” Tony changed subjects, tilting his head. “I mean, the Manchurian Candidate isn’t my cup of tea, but he’s never hurt you, even when you were trying so hard to kill all of us in that bunker; if anything, he’d be like a pain in the ass puppy, always loyal and trying to get in your lap.” Understanding dawned. “This have something to do with your parents? You told me their divorce was ugly.”

And then some.

“Nah, their divorce was the standard train wreck, it was what came after; when the guy left her, she uh…. Well, she didn’t take it well.”

Tony arched a brow, waiting patiently and Lev was so tired of holding the weight of her burdened past by herself she gave in and opened her figurative vein.

“When uh…. When the new guy took off, she…. I found her after school one day, blood everywhere and the razor still in her hands. I was trying everything I could to stop the bleeding, to stop her, but all she wanted to do was keep cutting and keep screaming into the phone at the guy, over and over again, ‘is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?’. She… she died in my arms, her last words for him, still yelling at him. I’m not even sure if she knew I was there.”

Tony stared, stunned silent, which was quite a feat for him, and Lev swallowed uncomfortably. She’d not told anyone the whole story, not even her dad or the therapist and she felt her adrenaline beginning to rise as the spectres from her past rattled their chains and threatened to break free again.

“Shit… Lev. You need to talk to someone about that-”

“I need to go on this mission.”

“You need help.”

“The mission.” Lev repeated stubbornly. “Just the mission, Tony, okay? If my mother’s suicide taught me anything, it’s that love is the most dangerous fucking thing out there and if I hadn’t learned it then I sure as fuck did when Bucky showed up with that fucking supermodel. That’s all the help I need. Let me get out of here, clear my head and still be fucking useful as I do it. Please?”

Tony gazed at her, such pain and sympathy in his eyes that Lev was forced to look away, chew hard on her lip to keep from breaking down.

“Okay,” he finally murmured. “I’ll send you out on this one but we’re in on this together, you and me, got it?”

Lev squinted at him, not understanding.

“I’m not going to tell anyone else, but you and I are going to talk, regularly, while you’re out there. I’m keeping an eye on you, kid and when you get back… you gotta talk to someone trained in this, okay? That’s not anything anyone should have to carry alone.”

Lev snorted, trying to disguise how touched she was with more sarcasm. “I’m not carrying it alone; it can haunt your nightmares now too.”

A faint smile, but Tony’s eyes stayed troubled.

“Okay,” Lev conceded. “Now can I go?”

Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I got everything set up, if you’re ready now, let’s go.”

“I’m ready now.”

***********************************************************************************       Lev exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to doodle on the notebook in front of her and closed her eyes until the itch passed, then opened them again, squinting as she peered through the scope mounted in front of her.

Forty-three days now of reconnaissance, observation, stakeout…. Boring.

Although it had been in the back of Lev’s mind as the reason why no one else wanted to take this mission, meaning Tony had been about a day away from volun-telling someone they were going, it hadn’t truly hit her until now how epically draining this was.

She had nothing but time now, to think, to analyze and consider.

The communication was iffy, limited, hence the need for someone to stay here and watch the comings and goings of the suspected HYDRA affiliate; setting up remote surveillance simply wasn’t possible, nor feasible to complete the set-up of without drawing suspicion. And rotating teams wasn’t ideal either, so Lev was stuck here, admittedly exactly where she’d asked to be, and she was getting a lot of thinking done.

She had been wrong to push Bucky away, that thought was clear as crystal now after weeks of distilling in her mind while she observed and noted each movement of her quarry.

Even if she’d genuinely wanted to simply stay friends with him, wrong, she had gone about that completely ass-backwards too. There had been happiness in his eyes that morning, the smile on his face hopeful, and she’d squashed it like a bug, squashed his heart like a bug, according to Steve; no wonder he’d returned her pain so cruelly, so harshly. He’d been open and vulnerable in front of her, thinking they’d turned some corner in their relationship, holding out his heart to her that morning and she’d clumsily slapped it to the floor, stomped on with her curt announcement that the magic that had passed between them the night before was a mistake.

God, did she wish she could go back in time.

She’d slap her past self silly in that bathroom, grab her shoulders and order her to not be so fucking stupid and scared, to be the fucking hero she played at being and take that leap of faith, knowing Bucky had already taken the leap and was waiting to catch her on the other side.

It’s too late now, her inner voice whispered.

“Shut up.” She hissed back.

9:32 am – subject takes out the garbage…

************************************************************************************     “So, how’s it going?” Tony asked from the monitor, head tilted to the side. The connection wasn’t the greatest, static crawling across the screen and pulling at his outline, but his voice came through clearly enough.

“I’m bored.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Dude, why do you think everyone else passed?”

“I know, I know, it’s just…”

“Too much time to think?” Tony offered quietly.

Lev exhaled heavily. “Yeah.”

“I know all about that.” Tony continued softly. Usually at this point he would lead Lev into talking about her issues, not start baring his own demons.

“You too?” Understanding hit her like a truck. “Wait, your parents too, right? I forgot about that.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t walk in on my mother having a psychotic break, but they’re both gone.”

“And Bucky…” she couldn’t finish, shocked that she’d managed to put away this detail and forget it for so long.

“No, The Winter Soldier.” Tony clarified. “I’ve made my peace with that, HYDRA killed my parents, not that lovesick sap I see dragging his sorry ass around the compound all day.”

“Wait, what? Dragging his ass around? He’s got Lilly now.”

“Not anymore. Not sure what happened, but she left a couple weeks ago… not long after you took off, actually.”

“Huh.” Lev pondered this, her confusion deepening. What the hell did that mean? Was it just no fun fucking his girlfriend anymore without Lev standing there watching? “And you just decided to mention it now?”

Tony smiled faintly. “Today’s the first time you’ve even mentioned his name too, kid.”

“Touché…. Wait, you just needed me to stay here and finish the job!”

“Why? Would hearing about Lilly leaving make you want to come back and talk to the guy?” Tony challenged evenly; brow raised.

Shit… it did, didn’t it? That’s exactly what she was steamed about, wasting her time here instead of falling on her knees in front of Bucky and begging for his forgiveness. Still, she hated to let Tony know he was right, he could be such an arrogant prick sometimes. “So. What if it did?”

Tony snorted again, chuckling. “You two, Jesus Christ… Still, I’d appreciate if you could stay a bit longer out there.”

“You owe me, Stark.”

“I do? You volunteered, and now you’re trying to bail? Tough, kid.”

Lev stuck out her tongue, chafing mildly at this responsible adult nonsense.

“Brat,” Tony commented mildly. “Another week, Lev. Please?”

“It’s good to hear you say please.”

“It’ll be even better if you stay there like I asked and then come back and talk to that therapist I set up for you.”

Lev clenched her teeth, debating her response. Knee-jerk told her snarl and tell Tony off, to mind his own business, she’d made all sorts of progress just talking with him, but a deeper part of her knew it was time, she needed to confront and drain this wound, she couldn’t let it’s poison taint her life any further. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t sound so damn happy. I’m paying top dollar to keep the best grief counselor on the East Coast on retainer.”

“Thanks.” Lev injected true appreciation in her tone and his expression softened.

“Brat.” He repeated fondly. “I gotta go, talk to you in a couple of days, alright?”

“Yeah,” Lev replied softly, offering a real smile.

*************************************************************************************    Lev tried not to hurry, jostle the pack on her back and maybe make too much noise. Nobody was following her, that much she was sure of, but she’d managed over fifty days of surveillance without being discovered and didn’t want to disrupt her streak. Nearing two months in a depressing tenement in a dying Eastern European town had been all sorts of boring, staring out through faded old curtains to the building across the narrow alley, but she’d managed and now it was time to go home. Tony was waiting, with a quinjet, at a site a dozen miles out and Lev was eager to see the man again.

He’d passed on her messages to the team, for Lev had left so furtively and quickly that she hadn’t told anyone else, not even Steve, and he’d relayed their messages back due to the constraints in their communications, but she was eager to see Stark, hell, anyone, in the flesh again. There was only so many games of Solitaire you could play on a dingy tabletop as you kept one eye on the window and Lev had discovered that limit long ago.

But… Bucky.

She still hadn’t spoken to him.

She’d not told him she was leaving; hell, he probably hadn’t even pulled out of Lilly yet by the time she was heading for the jet and there’d been no message from him in the ones Stark had relayed, not that Lev had expected any.

He probably hoped she didn’t come back, and a part of Lev was tempted. But no, she was a part of the Avengers, whether he liked it or not, and she could function as a member of said team even if she no longer had any meaningful contact with the Winter Soldier again. She’d have to figure out a new strategy for when her nightmares tore her from sleep and there would be no more Bucky to save her, as well as what she was going to do now when his nightmares echoed down the halls and she wanted to run to comfort him, but that could be solved easily enough. She could switch floors, sleep with earplugs or just plain gut it out, go cold turkey until the impulses faded, until Steve or Sam or, most likely, nobody’s presence took the place of comfort and support when their mutual nightmares grew to be too much in the dark.

But she’d miss the softness of his voice in the dark as her heart raced, miss the gentle way his hand would stroke across her forehead, thumb rubbing at her cheekbone; his bright, earnest eyes locked on hers as he talked her down, helped her match her gasping breaths to his steady ones.

She’d miss the way he’d cling to her when he was trapped in his own hells. The faint tremble in his massive frame that would start to cease, begin to relax as soon as he sensed her touch, the way his arms would band around her and hold her close, his body wrapped around hers like a shield but his face buried in her neck like a child’s while he grounded himself again. The way he’d murmur her name over and over again like a mantra, soothing himself back to sleep or, more likely, to the faint drowsy, dreamy, pillow talk stage, laying next to each other for hours as night died, talking about everything and anything that seemed too fragile to hold up and not shrivel under day’s harsh glare.

How had she thrown all that away? How had she not seen what everyone else apparently had? Actual physical love and sex had been about the last boundary they’d had, they’d been intimate and close in every other way possible and yet Lev had deluded herself into thinking, no… into telling herself stubbornly, that it was only friendship, that the way she’d sometimes catch Bucky gazing at her were nothing, only projections of the way she sometimes would watch him.

What a fucking idiot.

Christ, she was going to take a hellacious long bath when she got back to the Compound and compose a doozy of an apology to match her depths of remorse.

She glanced at her GPS, saw the jet was mere dozens of feet away now, in a clearing so well hidden she, even so close, still couldn’t see and picked up her pace. Hopefully, Tony brought some of those Cow Tales caramels she was such a whore for like she’d asked.

Pushing through the last break of trees, Lev paused, just admiring for a moment the stark (tee hee) splendour of the sleek jet amidst the woods. With a muted hiss, the ramp descended, and Lev turned her attention to the pilot.

“Tony-” her voice died in her throat.

#bucky #bucky barne #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #au bucky #au bucky barnes #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes angst #bucky and lev #bucky and levi #bucky barnes drama #bucky barnes romance #bucky the morning after #bucky mixed signals

[rhabakoli]

“I will ruin you, all you will be able to think about is me.” for Geralt & Jaskier pls?

Big thanks to @riviawitch3r for being such an amazing beta, thank you sooo much.

have fun, y’all.

**

Geralt was seething. The tavern was loud and full, patrons stacked to the roof, all coming to see the mighty White wolf. But being ogled wasn’t why Geralt was desperately trying to hold on to his sanity.

No.

It was that fucking bard.

That one bard, that had not only wormed his way through Geralt’s walls and didn’t take any of his moods seriously, but also managed to aggravate him by simply not being next to him, by his side. Which, is a yet unexplained phenomenon, as Geralt didn’t want anyone’s attention. He didn’t need anyone, and he was glad no one needed him.

No one, but that fucking bard. He turned everything around and now his skin itched and his fingers wanted to tousle his hair and find out if it was as soft as it looked. Geralt had whole dreams about his eyes, those deep blue seas that always seemed to see right through him. 

That fucking bard, who was currently leaning against the bar, ale in one hand, grinning at the people around him, laughing with them. Enticing them, luring them, getting their fucking attention. Geralt’s blood was well on its way to boiling. How could Jaskier ignore him? He wanted to be the only one the bard looked at, ever. Not the blonde guy next to him whose hand smoothed down his arm nor the dark haired woman on his other side who looked at his bard as if he was prey. 

How could he do that, how could Geralt accept the scene playing out in front of his eyes? Letting them touch him, their hands all over him, their eyes raking down his lithe body, hungry and lusting, their intentions clear as day and filthy as the dark alleys of this godforsaken town. It didn’t matter if it was a man or woman, Jaskier had them all in his pocket. And they loved to be there. At least until the first glamour wore off.

But that’s only where his best traits began. Jaskier was smart, kind, compassionate, and so soft. He was all Geralt wasn’t, kept all his best traits hidden from the world - and Geralt wanted to lay him open, strip him bare in every way possible. Wanted to learn his body and his soul, with his fingers, his lips, his cock. Geralt groaned at the thought of the small bard writhing on him, moaning and screaming. His voice had captured Geralt’s attention long before he was aware. He’d dreamt of it. He’d fantasized about the noises he could lure out of Jaskier, if the young man just let him. Had dreamt about how he’d take him, make him sing for his ears only. 

His brain delivered the fitting pictures, and his sanity snapped like a twig in a storm. 

**

Jaskier was enjoying himself and the attention he got – something he felt his travel companion failed to give him -, when a hand grabbed his coat and pulled. He lost his balance, tumbled back and sloshed ale everywhere; his adoring fans right in the middle of it.

Oh. Great.

The two of them looked pissed, ready to throw fists, when Jaskier realized who exactly had pulled him away. That was the exact moment his face drained of all blood and he gave them a tiny, nervous smile. He really hoped they wouldn’t start a fight; this wouldn’t end well and this tavern was one of those that actually served good ale and passable food. Would be a shame to get banned.

So he glanced at Geralt, whose hand was still fisted in the material of his jacket and – oh god. His eyes were aflame. There was no other way to call it. It was terrifying and so was the clench of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. It looked like he was sniffing them out – well, if he did, he just had gotten a good whiff of Jaskiers nervous arousal.

“Move.”

Jaskier didn’t even try to suppress the shiver that ran through him at the gravelly voice; it was futile, really.

The bard had just barely gotten his feet to obey, when another hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Both Jaskier and Geralt looked down, heads snapping, eyes widening. But while Jaskier was astounded at such idiocy, Geralt was short of pulling out a weapon and cleaving that dude into the floor.

“Hey, we aren’t done having fun yet!”

Geralt took a step forward, his size and height intimidating on their own, but paired with the eyes and the hair and the reputation – Jaskier hadn’t seen him like this, ever before. This was whole new level of fury, of anger, the emotions radiating off him, broadcasting his intentions, if that fucker didn’t back off. Geralt was feral and Jaskier was trying not to piss himself. He wasn’t even target of Geralt’s anger. At least he thought so.

“Let. Go.”

“I think the little bard can speak for himself.”

There was a growl vibrating deep in the witcher’s chest, his free hand curled into a fist, the hand on Jaskiers back shifted to his neck; almost a possessive display? Jaskier wasn’t sure, but he also didn’t get to intervene or think about it any longer.

Geralt had had enough. With an ugly snarl, he took another step forward, shielded Jaskier and rammed his elbow into the other guys arm, broke the hold he had on the bard and then, no hesitation, let his fist collide with his jaw.

By the time the stranger had hit the floor, Geralt had grabbed Jaskier by the back of his neck again, and left the tavern.

**

“What were you thinking?”

Jaskier wanted to answer but he was too busy trying not to fall on his face, as he stumbled through the dark.

“Didn’t you notice they were trying to get to you?”

“Of course I did, I’m not stupid.”, he mumbled. And then he squeaked, as his body collided with a tree; Geralt shoving his back against it, to be able to face him.

“Please repeat that, I think I misheard.” 

While Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn’t hurt him - beyond the occasional punch he probably deserved anyway - the look on his face and the pure fury in his voice had him worried.

“I’d rather not.”

Geralt was right in his face, the hand on his chest holding him in place.

“Did you not think of what could happen to you?” 

Jaskier snorted. “Oh, trust me, I did.”

He licked his lips, manic smile stretching his face. Something in him had snapped. What did he care? Wasn’t like it affected him in any way. “Who told you I didn’t want it?” 

Geralt reared back, quick enough to make the Bard flinch. His chest was heaving, his hands in fists at his side. With a grunt he turned on his heels, stomped away. Jaskier was breathing hard just the same, but didn’t really know if it was arousal, anger or fear. Maybe it was a bit of everything. His hand rubbed over the spot were Geralt has held him, his eyes on the floor. Of course he’d be disgusted. The bard knew that. Why did it still hurt then? 

“No.” 

Huh? Jaskier looked up, just in time to see Geralt descending upon him like a wild animal. Then there was lips on his, heat, slickness, a tongue teasing him. Hands were on his body, running down his sides, squeezing when they found his waist, moving to the small of his back and his cheek, to haul him closer. Geralt’s voice was like a thunderstorm – captivating, gravelly, electrifying, absolutely wild.

“No. You don’t get to do that.” 

The hand on his back was sneaking down, grabbed his bum and pulled groans from both of them. 

“You don’t get to come into my life, make me care about you, protect you,-“ a vicious nip to his lips, then his head was moved, turned to the side so Geralt could easily access his neck; continue his assault there. 

“Fucking burrow your way into my brain, heart-“

Hips rolled against his, dick against dick. Jaskier thought he was dying. What in the world?

“-into my fucking dreams.” 

Geralt pulled back, eyed Jaskiers clothes. With a grunt he reached for the jacket, pulled it off his bard and then there were hands on hips, fingers dipping into breeches and Jaskier thought he was gonna pass out. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt wasn’t exactly as disgusted as he’d first thought.

All the while, Geralt was groaning and moaning directly into his ear, with that fucking voice of his. 

“You don’t get to.” 

Geralt whirled Jaskier around, pressed a hand between his shoulder blades to make him bend at the waist.

“Brace yourself.”

 If Jasker hadn’t popped a boner the very second his back had hit the tree, he would now, at the latest. He liked being manhandled by Geralt, the big bad witcher showing him so obviously, so blatantly, that he did care. That he did feel something for Jaskier. 

So he followed his lead. Hands against the three, head low to watch the witcher’s legs, ogle those delicious goddamn thighs all he wanted. If he also arched his back and shoved his ass back into Geralt’s grip – who could blame him?

A groan, from behind him. A hand gliding from the back of his thigh up, dipping between his legs, just for a second. Hot breaths against his neck, a hotter body aligned with his own, blood rushing in his ears. 

“Look at you.” A smack, then a bite at his shoulder, a soothing lick. Jaskier’s buttcheek stung, but he loved it. He was getting goddamn giddy with excitement, giddy at the possibility of Geralt being serious about this. And if not - he’ll get a couple good fucking orgasms out of this. He ignored how his insides churned at that, ignored the sting at the thought. He preferred to be in the here and now, enjoy whatever Geralt was ready to give.

Said man was pressed along the line of his body, hips nestled against his ass in a way that made the bard wish he was naked and ready, and possibly equipped with the ability to stop time forever.

The hands were wandering again. Up his legs, over his hips, slipping underneath his untucked shirt- Jaskier let out a breathy moan, let his hips move against the broad man currently driving him crazy. His nails scratched, fingers tippity-tapped, and then Geralt kissed right behind his ear and pinched his nipples. Which almost made Jaskiers knees buckle – fucking hell. 

“You’re so infuriating. So fucking annoying, with your big pretty eyes, and those fucking lips.” 

His right hand came up, wrapped around the bards throat, the thumb found his lips.

“So fucking soft, I bet they’ll feel great wrapped around my cock.” 

Lips were brushing the shell of his ear as the witcher continued: “I know they’ll look fucking divine.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t. “Geralt, please-“ 

“Shut up.”

The harsh, commanding tone had him weak, his dick twitching in his pants. The hand around his neck squeezed and then shifted, enough to grab Jaskier’s jaw - fuck, how huge were his hands? - and turn his head. Geralt captured his lips in a bruising kiss, noses bumping, neck straining but, oh royal fuck, this was Jaskier’s personal heavenly hell. 

The hips pressed into his ass rolled, Geralt’s dick nestled against Jaskier’s ass – he could feel the size of him and holy fuck. 

Geralt broke the kiss to bite his lower lip, then nip at his jaw and breathe a moan against his skin. 

“Please.” Jaskier was out of his mind. He’d lost all orientation, body and mind hyperfocused on the bulking figure pressed against him, the man playing him like his favourite instrument. He loved it, loved how good it made him feel, how wanted, desired, cherished. 

Geralt’s hand came back around his throat, the weight of it heady and promising. It was a total show of dominance and strength, and it warmed the bard from the inside out, burnt him, until he was begging for Geralt like a man dying.

“Please, Geralt, please.”

A growl, low enough for the bard to feel it.

“You want to say something?” 

Geralt’s free hand undid the laces on the bards breeches, then found its way into them and cupped Jaskiers dick. “You want to be loud?” 

The bard whimpered, pressed his eyes closed, completely lost in the sensations. “You want to sing?”

A hard tug, a bite to his neck, then Geralt’s lips against his ear. He sounded like a man driven mad, anger mixed with frustration, desire and the need to claim Jaskier, mark him as his and make sure the bard knew it. 

“I will make you fucking sing. You will be so sore tomorrow, you’ll beg for some relief. You won’t be able to perform for a week, when I’m done with you.”

Jaskier was shivering now. He was barely able to stand, not with the heady mix of a rough hand in his pants and rougher voice in his ear, hot breath on his skin and hotter body against his. It was too much. It was too much and still he wanted more. He wanted this borderline feral man to take him and never let go again. 

“When I’m done with you, you will be just as lost as me.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh, humourless and gave a sharp thrust against Jaskiers ass. 

“When I’m done with you, you won’t know your own name. You will be mine, and no one will dare to ever touch you again.”

Jaskier’s eyes were rolling back, his dick straining against Geralt’s big, calloused hand. He was dripping precum, made a mess of his breeches. Geralt tutted at his whimper, bit the shell of his ear, lowered his voice to a lethal whisper.

“I will ruin you, all you will be able to think about is me. You. Are. Mine.” 

#the witcher #Geralt x Jaskier #gaskier #Jeralt #possessive Geralt #longing Jaskier

[the-goddessfighter]

[Werewolf-Vampire AU -SEQUEL II: Gaman's Birth-]

 by : Little1993lamb

for: Temperans-sama / @the-goddessfighter

 Words count : 2071

Warning : mpreg, slight implied nsfw activities (just a hint)

 Disclaimer: Gaman, the Batarou love child, is Original Character created by amazing @the-goddessfighter. Not mine, I just borrowed him temporarily for this story at her permission ;D

 @koeharu @metalbatandzenko @dies-first @beautifulnightmareus @guppys-paw @ruby-ess

- II -

After nearly half a year since their wedding, Badd felt something strange happened to him: he becomes more energized when fighting but quickly lethargic aftermath, his entire body is glowing everytime he activated Fighting Spirit (never happened before), he craved Garou's blood more than usual (made Garou must replenished his fluid intake and doubling his meals portion), and his natural scent becomes sweeter (courtesy by Garou).

 Badd feels that he's more clingy to Garou, very needy and touch starving. He wanted to always be with his husband whenever he goes (not that Garou would complain about this, instead his pack members would be the one complained because too much PDA). Strangely, even though he's a vampire, he's becomes more territorial like a werewolf (Badd wondering if werewolfness is contagious to another beings?). And their sexy times... let's just say it's becomes more "hotter" and "spicier" than before (both really enjoyed that, especially Badd who's getting hornier than usual).

 Zenko, being their pack's Healer, also with the help by Tareo who's collected the informations she needs, researched the cause of Badd's strange condition from their late family ancestor's journals. It seems, while it's rare even for male supernatural beings, Badd is pregnant. Vampire's pregnancy is very different from human's: it's not visible from outside, from just slightly bump to no baby bump at all, never full baby bump, and the baby could hibernate for long time if the mom isn't ready to deliver them. Because of the baby doesn't grow too much in the womb, they'd be looked like premature human baby when born, but it's normal for vampires because they'll grow up quickly after the birth.

 Still didn't explain on why sometimes he got new surge of energy whenever he's fighting recently. They'd concluded it's related with interracial mating, so maybe new symptoms will be occured.

 Badd was crying happily hearing this news, while Garou hugging Badd from behind, enveloping him in a strong yet warm embrace, whispering a promise that he'll become a good father for the baby and husband for Badd, not forgeting to caress Badd's slightly bumped tummy. Zenko and Tareo joined their hugging and congratulate Badd, too.

 The whole pack member got the news on the next day, coming to their Boss' house to hold baby shower party for Badd. Even Bang giving him so many presents and nursery items, he's going to spoil his son-in-law who's still pregnant with his soon-to-be grandchild. Seeing so many people congratulate him and celebrate the welcoming party for his baby, Badd couldn't help but feels touched by their pack family's kindness.

 Back then Badd was still wary about werewolf tribes' rumoured barbaric behavior, now he's entirely sure that actually werewolf tribes are not bad people. In fact, they're the warmest and the most caring people beside his own deceased vampire family. He's very grateful he met Garou on that fateful day, because now he's surrounded by most loving people he ever had. Cue suddenly there's a small pregnant vampire crying so hard in the middle of party, that it shooked and confused all the guest, hence the said vampire's dorky werewolf husband must consoled him in much confusion, or the husband's father asking if there's something wrong in panic. Tareo just shaking his head at the hilarious scenery and Zenko instantly facepalmed so hard.

 -----------------------

 Since that day, Garou becomes more protective and attentive as Badd's Mate. He must proving that he could be the best husband and soon-to-be dad ever! Badd already said he's already good as he is, no need to exaggerate it anymore than usual. But as a natural werewolf instinct to satisfy their Mate's need during pregnancy, Garou will try to fulfill anything Badd wishes.

 The example were Garou asking what Badd craving at that time (G: "Badd, do you want anything that needs me going to hunt, like obtaining exotic animal's blood? Or more wild and bigger animal than we usually hunt? Or do you want a new pet beside Rover?" B: "Garou, it's ok, I just need YOU... and maybe a cat, please?" *then they adopted Tama, the forest cat*).

 Or build a nest for him (G: "Badd, do you need more pillow or blanket?", B: "I'm not a big puppy like you, NORMAL bed plus your cuddling will be more pleasurable. Come 'ere, be my fluffy plushie." *cue obedient WhiteWolf Garou as Badd's life-sized plushie while he's sleeping*).

 Or whenever Garou's friend or colleague meet them in inter pack's leader diplomacy meeting and seems to take an interest for Badd / checking him out, Garou will bare his teeth, growls, and snarls to his friend. Badd was very exasperated and apologized for his husband's sudden feral behavior (Friend: "Heyya Garou, what's up? Oh, is this your vampire Mate? He's really pretty and sexy, you lucky wolf--", G: *triggered, already half transformed* "GRAAHRGG HISSSHH HRRRGGH!!", B: *showing most tired exasperated face* Friend: *shocked* "Whoaa easy there! Look, I'm not hitting on your Mate, you can stop that, I'm sorry for what I said, Garou's Mate!", B: "Hey it's okay, I'm not offended at what you said. Sorry for my husband's feral moment, too. We're going home Garou, change back to normal again. Now.", G: *changed back, but not before gesturing "I'm-watching-you" to his friend*).

 When they're fighting enemies, Garou and the packs will try to prevent Badd from joining the battle (B: "HUHH the fuck y'all incompetence doing?? Let me finish them! See, I got more pumped up now! *activate Fighting Spirit, body glowing* Yossh, be prepared to taste my attack! Here I come-- GAROU PUT ME DOWN! I SWEAR IF YOU'RE NOT LET ME GO RIGHT NOW, NO SEXY TIMES IN THE WOODS FOR A WEEK!! AAAARGH GAROU--" *was carried back home with a lot of struggle*). It ended up with Garou sleeping on the couch for just one night, because Badd was still touch-craved so they went back to sleep together the next day.

 When there's outsider people or another supernatural beings entered their territory and causing some trouble to the packs, Badd becomes the packs' Scary Mother Hen: he'll come to defend all of the packs member who's getting dragged into the trouble and chase the outsider strangers away from their territory (*outsider strangers and pack members fighting against each other*, B: *flying approaching them fastly* "WHO'S CAUSING MESS THIS TIME, HUUHH?? FIGHT ME FIRST!", Strangers: "Oh shit, THAT'S THE MOTHER HEN VAMPIRE! RUN RUN RUN!" *run away*, Pack members: "Pack Mom! Long live Pack Mom!", B: "I'm not y'all goddamn Pack Mom, stop that!" *inviting them to dinner in Garou's house instead, like a Mom*).

 When Badd drinking Garou's blood in his pregnant condition, the smell and the taste of his blood becomes sort of aphrodisiac for him. So the drinking activity always followed by "more intensed mating routines", plus Badd activated his glowing Fighting Spirit mode during that time really tested Garou's werewolf stamina. Not to mention, Badd getting more and more hornier because of his skyrocketing pregnancy hormones didn't helping Garou at all. Who couldn't say no when your cute vampire Mate looking so delectable, begging for more "mating session"? Certainly not Garou. At one time he passed out for 2 hours from anemia (too much blood sucking) and exhaustion (too much session happened). Badd couldn't carry Garou to home since he's so heavy so Badd just waiting for him to wake up. Garou was awoken with his head on Badd's lap (thick thighs' pillow is heavenly, he never wanted to get up!).

 But despite all of that, there's one thing that really surprised Badd: the baby could feel Badd's emotion and expressed their own emotion by immediately giving a respond to Badd from the womb. When Badd is angry, the baby would moved restlessly or agitated (it hurts Badd physically and emotionally, because "baby no sad please I'm not angry at you"). When Badd is sad, the baby would moved very sluggishly (Badd rubs his tummy telling them he's okay). When Badd is bored, the baby would kicked playfully instead of moving (Badd ended up playing along with them, getting amused by their antics). When Badd is happy, the baby would moved very gently (Badd feels like there's flutter of butterflies in his womb). When Badd is in love or when he's making out with Garou, the baby would moved a lot excitedly (Garou couldn't help but leaning his head on Badd's tummy, happily listening to their baby, sometimes rubs his hands on it while embracing Badd from behind and kissing him softly).

 ----------------------

 A few weeks later, Badd feels like this time he's ready to meet their baby. So, he asked Zenko to help him deliver the baby by operate his body then heals him after that. Badd also asked Tareo to invite Bang so he could come to see his newborn grandchild. Lastly, he asked Garou to be his support during the delivering process. After he's ready, Zenko starts operating his body while giving him some healer's magic spell to ease his pain.

 Garou always beside Badd, never let go of Badd's hand, caressing Badd's face while kissing his head softly, giving some encouragement words to him. Even though Zenko already gave him pain killer magic spell, it's still feels hurt. But knowing he's surrounded by people he loves and remembering this is his awaiting moment to meet his child, Badd thinks the pain really worth it. Finally, Zenko succeeded to deliver Badd's baby. After Zenko cleaning the baby, she handing the newborn to his dear big brother.

 In Badd's craddle, there's Garou and his little baby boy. With smooth jet black hair, fair white skin, a small fangs peeked under his lips, and when he opened his eyes, it's beautiful bright yellow gold like Garou's. Starts crying, Badd kissing the baby then smiling to Garou, very happy finally they could meet their child. Seeing Garou's slightly amazed expression, Badd offered Garou to hold their baby, too. Garou then craddling him with so much care, gazing at the warm small bundle in his arms while smiling fondly, still couldn't believe that he's a daddy now. G: "What should we name our baby, Badd?", B: "...Gaman. We name him Gaman, it fits him.", G: "You're absolutely right. Welcome to this world, Gaman. Say hi to dad, father, and auntie!".

 After healing finished, Bang and Tareo with some pack members (Z: "No crowding!") joined them to meet Gaman. When Garou offered Bang to hold Gaman, especially when Bang finally craddling him, his grandson, he couldn't hold his happy tears while cooing Gaman and gently rocked him. Seeing his old leader and also father figure looked so happy, Garou couldn't help but smiling warmly. Feeling satisfied after playing with his newborn grandson, he handed Gaman back to Garou. When it's time for Gaman to sleep in baby crib, both Zenko and Tareo watched him from above with amazed expressions. Zenko promised proudly that she will becomes the best aunt for Gaman when Tareo tucked him in the fluffy blanket, letting him sleep tight more comfortable.

 After everyone was moved to another room, now it's just Garou, Badd, and baby Gaman who's still sleeping soundly. Garou laid beside Badd on the bed, cuddling Badd who's nuzzling into his embrace, enjoying their moment as newly parents. Slowly, Garou tilted Badd's face and kissing him deeply with such love, then vowed to Badd that he'll always protect his family, and will do anything for the safety of them, raising Gaman properly with love and care he deserved as a good dad, and also being a loving Mate for Badd, forever. Listening Garou's renew his love vow for him, Badd smiled blissfully.

 He also vowed to Garou that he'll always be there for him as his partner in pack leadership, ready to fight with Garou side by side to protect the family, raising Gaman with all the motherly love he has for him, and also being a caring Mate for Garou, forever. After that, he kissed Garou softly but intimately, slightly biting his lips and savouring the sweetness of Garou's blood in his mouth. Letting go of their kiss, Badd and Garou resumed their cuddling time, now with much contentment. They just happy their bond as Mates more stronger than ever, that the pack feels completed now after the arrival of Gaman, a new miracle and hope in their small happy family.

  -TBC-

  Notes:

 If there's anyone who haven't know about the origin of this WereVamp AU story and wanted read that, you can check them out at @Koeharu's blog where I've had submitted those previous parts as anon (TYSM, Cain / Koeharu!):

 1. Werewolf-Vampire AU origin story:

https://koeharu.tumblr.com/post/613597920369999872/

2. Werewolf-Vampire AU sequel I - Leader Initiation from Bang:

https://koeharu.tumblr.com/post/615478155965235200/

 Special thanks for @the-goddessfighter, @guppys-paw, and @ruby-ess, who always liking my Werewolf-Vampire Batarou AU, and even drawing many fanarts based on this AU in their own style! So thank you so much guys for the supports, I'm forever grateful for you all aaa I'm so happy 😭🙏🙇💕💖💝

 This is the illustration for Werewolf!Garou and Vampire!Badd drawn by @the-goddessfighter which is based on this AU and used for the story (they looked so beautiful in these drawings, tysm Temperans-sama! 💖):

•https://the-goddessfighter.tumblr.com/post/615593923960782848/

 After this part there's timeskip for a couple of years when Gaman is already grow-up as a kid, the explanation of his relationship with all packs members, and the plot will be heavier from there.

 So please stay tune for the next parts, I'll submit them to Temperans-sama who gives me a chance to write her beautiful Batarou lovechild OC, Gaman, into this WereVamp AU story. Thank you so much, Temperans-sama! I hope you like this sequel and wish you will also enjoyed the next sequels until the end! 😭🙏😚😘💕💖💖💝

-Little1993lamb-

#batarou #AU-WerewolfVampire! #<3<3<3 #aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!! #werewolf!Garou #vampire!Badd #tag friends #aslhkshakdl #TuT #THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #Is more than I deserve #QwQ #you are such a sweetheart #^w^

[slashiest-slasher]

For @slashthedice‘s Frisky February!

Day 8: Wax Play

Billy Lenz x Male s/o

There's no way you're getting out of the house. The snow piled up and completely blocking the front door wouldn't have been much of an issue. Just shovel out like you've had to do so many times in these Canadian winters. Or crawl out through an upper window.

There's no way you can call emergency services, because when you went to shower this morning, all you got was ice cold water and no lights. Fine, fine. You could figure something out.

But Billy made it quite clear that under no circumstance were going to leave him trapped in this house alone. Even the mere mention of leaving left him tearing into the solid block of snow at the front door (because destroying anything else would make you get that look on your face that made Billy's guts twist, just like mother-)

The pantry's well stocked with non-perishable, and everything else you bring in to where snow was spilling in through the broken window of the basement. Your beer is stuck in the snow at the front door to keep chilled, and after a day of cold proofing the house and your room, night had already fallen. Mrs. Mac didn't like when people messed around with her things in storage too much, but every quilt and blanket that isn't in someone's room is hauled into yours.

You pin them up over the windows, under the crack in the door, every draft you could find, and everything else makes quite the nice nest for you and Billy on your bed. A few candles are lit on your nightstand, desk, and a few other surface, making the room seem warmer than it is.

It's even more of a struggle to get Billy into some of your pajamas than it is to get him to stop eating Claude's food when there's plenty good people food you hid in the attic and your room for him. Or getting him to brush his teeth afterwards. But you've learned to wrangle him down and strip him, and squeeze him into your clothes which are a bit too large on his slight frame.

It's honestly adorable to see him sitting there, hair fluffed up and in your clothes, arms crossed, and pouting. Until the moment he remembers, oh yeah! These are your clothes! And he pulls the shirt to his face, takes a deep inhale, and rolls around on the bed giggling.

"Be careful of the candles Billy," you remind him, after catching him about to pass his hand through the flame.

He grumbles something that you can't quite hear and dips his finger in the wax instead. His eyes go wide as he watches it solidify, and peels it off. Billy looks at it as if he has never seen wax before.

To distract him from trying to shove his whole fist in, you shimmy out of your jeans and into a loose pair of sweatpants. You can only imagine what it would be like to see Billy in something that's big on you.

"Careful, careful, hmmmm, you're g-gonna be fulllll of my g-giant cock, and- and- and you're g-gonna scream when I fu-fuck your tight, pretty piggy ass!" he snarls, before crawling to the end of the bed, grin on his face and drool already spilling down his chin.

You hold his face in one hand, and wipe away the spit with the other. "Yeah? That a promise babe?" You can't help but smiling back at him when he wraps his arms around your midsection, and tugs you into bed, flipping you over and pinning you down with his weight. Billy's erection is already poking you incessantly in the thigh.

"I guess it's a good thing I prepped in the shower," you murmur in his ear, running your hands down his back and gripping his ass. He hardly has one, but it still drives him wild when you grope him. Usually you don't, because he gets quite forceful, but you're all ready for him to take you.

And take you he plans. Billy only pauses briefly to get you onto your front, and pulls both of your pants down just enough to expose you. His hips usually stutter while he tries to get into the swing of things. Billy truly has no skills when it comes to such things, just bending over you, pressing you close, and fucking you like a rabbit until he cums, gets his erection back in record time, and continues on fucking you.

Which may not seem like the most ideal situation, but fuck if it isn't hot to be full of his cum and feel him soften then get hard inside of you. To have Billy so overcome with pleasure that he can only make garbled animal noises against the skin of your neck.

But he doesn't tonight, and initially you think it's because he's in a less rabid mood. He has entered you, but you can feel his erection pressed to your backside, and his hands run along your lower back. He presses close, but only to lean over and grab something from the nightstand. You can hear him giggling, which is never a good sign from him, especially when you let him top.

"Billy? Is everything ok-" Your back arcs in a knee-jerk reaction when something burning hot lands on, spilling across the contours of your back. "BILLY WHAT THE FUCK?!"

In the shock of things, Billy gets you on your back, throwing your legs to either side. He perches above you with those freakishly large eyes of his, licking his lips, and holding the candle jar above your torso. Before you can put your arms up and tell him to stop, he dribbles hot wax over your left nipple.

Even though you can see him doing it, it still gives you a start. Billy drags a finger through the wax, toying briefly with your sensitive nipple. He seems pleased enough with the whine you make. It spurs him on to nudge the head of his cock at your entrance, not yet sinking in. Billy's entire body is practically vibrating. He pours more wax along the muscles of your abdomen, watching it drip down your sides and cooling before it can reach the bed spread.

You've never exactly thought about wax, and initially you were planning at snapping at Billy and telling him to fuck off. I mean, you've been trying to get him to communicate his plans to you for a while, and he's usually been good at at least letting you know when he was going to something incredibly stupid. But the wa felt so... odd, pleasant even.

Billy goes and ruins everything like he normally does and upends the entire candle jar over you, the flame thankfully being snuffed out by the wax, and smashes the jar against the floor, one hand pulling tight at his hair. Before you can so much as get a word out, Billy thrusts into you, and presses his front against yours.

The breath is knocked from your chest, and each thrust smears the wax that can't quite harden between you two everywhere. Billy is within kissing distance, but keeps his face in front of your, watching ever shift in expression or bitten lip with unblinking eyes, panting sour breath into your face. The only noise he makes are grunts as he pounds into you.

As per usual, it takes almost no time at all for Billy to start getting close. He has a thing for biting his bottom lip and letting his eyes close when he does. But instead of cumming inside of you - which by the way has been such an inconvenience as of late you've been thinking about going out to buy condoms - he jerks off his load onto your chest, mixing with the smeared and crumbling wax that completely coats you.

And of course the gentleman he has been as of late, he ducks his head down and swallows you up with no hesitation. It's completely sloppy and soaking, and he uses his teeth a little too much, but Billy attacks you in his post orgasm frenzied state until you're shoved down his throat and cumming down it.

Billy pulls off with a wet smack, and promptly passes out on top of you. Which is odd, all things considered, but he must really have liked what he was seeing. For someone as thin as he is, you'd think it would be easy to roll him off to the side, so you could catch a late night shower (or rather, boiling a pot of water and wiping down with that).

You have no such luck, as Billy is dead weight, and sleeps heavier than the dead. So you merely accept the fate of dried cum and wax, pull up both of your pants, and haul as many blankets as you can over you. Billy, in the depths of sleep, only snuffles and tucks his face into your neck, leaving you with his hair tickling your face.

A truly awful fate it is, to be trapped under a maniac with a penchant for putting you into such inconvenient situations. But you mutter to yourself life would be awfully dull without Billy in it.

#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #black christmas 1974 #lemon #frisky february #billy lenz hc #you will all accept my late submission with grace bc i am a hot mess