#my man has spikes through his eyes and hes like hey can you pass the baywrap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eupheme · 2 months

Text

— on the fence [into the fire, part ii]

part i | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 3.8k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, oral (m), exhibitionism, spanking, biting, hair pulling, light choking, sub/dom elements, PiV, irradiated creampie

a/n: hi! I had a couple ideas I wanted to explore, which turned into a mini-series. I have them all mapped out & I hope to have them up for you soon! 💖

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

(Or - the Ghoul gets you out of your Vault Suit.)

You’re not sure you like the look of this town.

It sprawls wide and low across the desert, the inhabitants gathering in the shadows to escape glare of the sun. A low buzzing murmur that carries with you through the streets.

It feels suffocating, after the open miles before.

Following the dark figure of Ghoul, as you wind through the streets. Partly because you have to - that leash still pulled tight, wrapped around a fist.

Partly because you want to stick close, always.

“-don’t need you slowing me down.” The Ghoul gives the rope a yank, and you scowl, “You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

Your frown softens. His words still just as harsh, snarled out. But they’re a far cry from before.

Before, when you were certain he was going to hand you right back over to your Vault, in spite of how far you’ve come. Something significant passing in the journey through the desert, as he had taken what you wanted.

The taste of him has since faded, but he still lingers.

“Gotta earn your keep, too.” His head turns, eyeing you from beneath the brim of hat, “You good at anythin’?”

Unable to help it, you smirk - a brow raising. He scoffs in response, eyes narrowing.

“Anyone can be good at suckin’ cock, sweetheart.” He drawls, unimpressed, “’m not so bad at it, myself.”

Your lips part in surprise and he’s the one that grins, now.

The Ghoul picks up another bounty here. A shady, alley-way deal - keeping you close to his heels as he snatches the faded paper contact off a tattered board.

Running into another pair looking for jobs - a fresh scar splitting across the nose of a man who tries to start a conversation, before quickly retreating.

“Fuckin’ amateurs” muttered in reply to your heavy, silent judgement.

The client is tracked down for more information, after. Wasn’t hard to find the man with cage over the lower half of his face. Spikes that scream Raider with the way they jut through his clothes.

Fifty caps for the “goddamn no-good thief” that wiped out his stall in the night, taking every last bullet and can of cram. Last seen about two days ago, heading north.

Dead or alive, the client doesn’t care.

“Did you see ‘em?” The Ghoul frowns, “What they look like? Give me somethin’ to go off of.”

“Course I did,” The man huffs, “Looks just like me, don’t he? He’s my own damn brother.”

You can’t contain your own sideways look in disbelief, only to see The Ghoul returning it.

He bargains for a hundred, and gets it.

It’s hard not to wonder if he had taken your bounty this way. If your face had been scrawled across a piece of paper. Exchanged in a no-nonsense, disconnected way.

How much had your life been worth?

You never asked him. It’s something you’re not sure you even want to know.

The rest of the afternoon is spent stocking up. Caps exchanged for some more ammo. A couple bottles of watery chems, shoved deep in his bag to join the others.

A way the ease the cough that rattles him every few days. The smallest bottle kept out, wrenched open with a tight fist.

It snags at you - the way he swallows it like ambrosia the second he steps away. Gasping and groaning as if it’s air he needs to breathe.

“I’m good at medicine,” You tell his back - following again. Memories of the Vault pushing their way to the surface, “Could make that for you, if we find the stuff. Wouldn’t have to dilute it.” You almost run into him, with the way he’s gone still. The tilt of his head, a single sharp eye piercing through you under the brim of a hat.

Shifting over your shoulder. Narrowing.

His hand fists in the collar of your jumpsuit instead, hauling you down the nearest alley and into the shadows.

“Hey!” You protest, your back knocked against the wall. He cages you in, knuckles pressing into your jaw with his tight grip.

The vial is pinched between his fingers, dangled in front of your face.

“You can make this?” He confirms.

You’re able to confirm it now, never quite getting a good look before. RadAway. It would be simple, compared to some of the stuff you’d had to cook up.

“Get me to a lab, some supplies,” You nod, “And I will.”

“Huh.” He’s close - you can’t help squirming in his grip, as he considers you, “Ain’t that something.”

A second, before his grip eases - but he doesn’t let go. Your bound fists rest against his chest, but there’s no force behind them to drive him off.

“Could’ve just asked.” You huff, “You don’t have to man-handle me.”

He almost smiles - his voice coming low, with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t I?”

It flusters you, how his body presses against yours. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your chest brushing his with each short breath.

His thumb sweeps, ghosting against your skin. Those sunken eyes dropping to your collar, with a frown.

Another glance down the aisle, before they’re dragging over you - voice lowering.

“Need to get you out of this suit.”

His words make stiffen in his arms, a sharp inhale of anticipation.

“Not so smart, are you?” He husks, his gaze dragging from your parted lips, up to your eyes, “Runnin’ around like this. Downright advertising you’re a Vaultie, when someone’s lookin’ for you.”

He’s not wrong. He tracked you down easily enough. You nod is small, a pang of regret as his fingers drop - as he steps away.

“Come on, then. I know a place.”

The place is an old saloon, the windows blasted out over two centuries ago. The gutted insides filled out with a patched-up bar, the mended tables and scattered chairs filled with patrons. Rooms to rent lining the first - and second floor - if you were brave enough to risk the staircase.

A few stalls set up alongside a wall - a barber ran by a Mister Handy with a looping stutter, the second by another Ghoul. Her few racks are filled with a patchwork of fabric, all in stained and faded patterns.

He gestures, a tilt of his head at the racks, “Pick something out, quick like.”

You’d gape at him, if you weren’t afraid he’d change his mind. Serious about your suit - you’re quick to grab a shirt in your size with only two holes. A pair of trousers, a rip at the knee.

“This ain’t for you.” The Ghoul clarifies darkly in your ear, “This is a trigger-happy town. Don’t need to be wasting my bullets.”

You hum in agreement - undeterred by his tone. The package clutched to your chest as he hands over a couple caps. Stuck over a full two weeks now in the same suit - you’re itching for the soft cotton against the skin.

Turning to leave, but then you’re halting. A couple of the patrons look familiar, hovering just inside the door. Something about that scar-

You’re trying to recall, in the crowd of people you’ve seen today - when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Wheeling you around as the Ghoul turns to the shop owner.

“You got a room she can borrow?” There’s a change in his tone, almost a sticky-sweet edge to his drawl.

It must work - you’re shown to what used to be an old parlor room. An array of broken chairs, a heavy wooden table. The wallpaper torn and faded, the shades of cream long stained a dull, dirty yellow.

He fills the doorway - an arm propped against the frame, and you hold your wrists out to him dutifully.

You’ve worked at the knots before, to no avail - only to scowl now, as he undoes them easily with one hand.

A moment of silence hanging then, as you give him a pointed look - rubbing at sore wrists.

“You gonna leave so I can change?” You ask, “I’ll just be a second.”

The Ghoul steps forward instead, pulling the door shut behind him. An audible click, as he thumbs at the lock.

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’.”

A heat flares to life in your cheeks, “You’re staying?”

“That’s right,” He sinks into an old loveseat, propped up on concrete blocks near the boarded-up window, “Can’t leave you alone in a place like this. Fuckin’ vultures would swoop right in.”

You hesitate, watching him warily as an arm slings across the back, legs stretched out against the floor. If you didn’t know better then you think it was something almost akin to concern in his tone.

Or then again - he might just want to keep your bounty to himself. You had hoped you were past that, but-

“What?” His tongue pokes at his cheek, tone taunting, “Gettin’ shy again?”

The clothes are dropped unceremoniously on the table, your Pip-Boy following. A glare, as you reach for the zipper of your Vault Suit, starting to yank it down.

“Hey, now.” His hand raises, “Slowly. Got it?”

There’s an immediate urge to resist, to test him - but then, you’re catching the look on his face.

It’s hungry, beneath the brim of his hat. You start to feel like you did in the desert, and then the alley - intrigue, and desire, and an ache from his words, all melding together.

So, you take it slow. The zipper slipping from your throat, to breasts, then belly. A roll of your shoulders as you slip your arms from the tight sleeves.

His eyes follow, lingering on each inch of bare skin that’s revealed.

“Turn around.” He growls when you reach your hips, and for him - you do.

Bending at the waist as you unlace your boots and step out of them. Back arched as you wiggle, pushing the suit down past your knees. Down soft legs that part, so you can step out of them.

A glance over your shoulder, then. His head tilts, eyes sweeping from your ankles to fix on the crux of your thighs. They press together on their own, a thrill at being on display for him.

He catches you looking, his hand lazy as it drops to his lap. A lift of his hips as he adjusts, palming himself. The other hand leaving the revolver shotgun that rests on the cushion next to him.

Crooking two fingers at you, silently beckoning you over.

You fit between thighs that inch wider. His hands curl on his lap, before he’s slowly peeling his gloves off. Warm, against your hips, biting into your skin.

“Don’t make ‘em like you above ground anymore,” He idly comments, a flatness to his tone that betrays nothing.

Soft and smooth skin. You wonder if he’s thinking about ruining it - sinking his teeth in and taking a bite. Leaving a mark that you’ll carry.

You think you’d let him.

His grip dents your skin, before his hands are dropping. A heated look thrown your way, as his face tips up to yours.

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

It sends a heat rushing through you, knowing that he’s right. You’re locked in a room with the most dangerous man in the city, and it does something to you.

A boldness, in the way you reach behind. His growled out “fuck” when you let bra loosens - joining the blue and yellow suit on the floor.

The wood is rough under your knees. Letting your hands wander, lifting his hips while your work open his belt. Drawing down the rusted zipper.

You grasp at his hips, tugging the faded fabric until he’s free. Fingers tracing over thighs, just as rough and reddened at the rest of him. It’s still not much, but it’s more of him than you’ve ever seen.

Bare beneath the stained pants, cock already thick and full where it curves against his hip. All from just watching you - perhaps a strange thing to be proud of, but fuck, you are.

Your hands curl around his knees, as your head dips. Taking more time than you did before. Lips pressing against the taut base, as a hand twists in your hair again.

“Come on and thank me, sweetheart.” He growls - urging you upward, “Gettin’ those clothes for you. Make it worth my while.”

It’s different this time. A familiarity in the way your tongue presses against the flushed head. The taste of the salt on your tongue, before your lips are part around him.

A soft groan, when he’s filling your mouth again. You’ve thought about it often since last time. Wondering when he would have you on your knees again. If he’d want more, the next.

Your heartbeat thuds between your thighs, with the shift of his hips into your mouth - chasing his pleasure.

An urge to make him feel good. Without thinking - your hand wraps around his shaft, as your head eases back.

“Easy, now.” He grits, though his eyes are fixed on how your fingers curl around him. How it pumps, squeezing him with spit-slick fingers.

Jerking him into a mouth that parts so prettily for him. Your other hand slipping against his thigh, with feather-light brushes. A short inhale before you take him deep again, your fist sliding down to the base.

The next time you pull him from mouth for a breath, drool stringing from his cock to your lips, he hears himself growling out, “Stop.”

You’re being too tender, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Should have kept you bound, like last time.

The Ghoul’s fingers bite into your chin, your mouth glossy from how you swallowed him down.

“I’m taking you this time. Know you’ve been just aching for it.” He husks, his thumb pressing against your lip. Watching your tongue peek out to taste it, “Go on. Get up, and get your ass over to that table.”

Your desire nearly eclipses everything else. Pushing on his thighs for support, crossing the three steps to the side of the table.

“No,” He follows - the gun clattering on the table top, brought over from the couch. His hands at your hips, guiding you until you’re facing the door, “Right here, sweetheart. I’ll be keepin’ watch.”

It has you remembering where you are - that you’re just supposed to be getting changed. Wondering if you should worry that you don’t care - the thought of piping up, having the risk of losing this chance and denying pleasure again has you quickly adapting.

A hand presses at the small of your back insistently, bending you over it. You can feel him against the curve of your ass, sticky against your skin.

“Cross your wrists,” His thighs shift against yours, as you fix your hands that has flattened against the tabletop.

Making it easy for him to grasp at them with one hand - stretching them further, pressing them against the wood as he kicks your thighs further apart.

Leaving you on tip-toe, arched against him.

“Look at you, listening.” He almost coos, with another lazy rock. His cock shifts, fitting between your thighs, nudging against you.

“I think-” You start, but it’s punctuated by a moan, “Think you just like tying girls up.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” He drawls, “Though I don’t discriminate. Theres just something ‘bout havin’ you like this-”

The Ghoul leans over you then, his grip tightening. Pinning you firmly between him and the table, unable to do more than squirm as his free hand slips between your thighs, cupping you.

It’s the first time he’s touched you like this, and your muscles string tight - trying not to buck into his palm. Against fingers that rub against your clit, pressing the sticky fabric to your skin.

“Fuck.” He rasps in your ear. Nails bite into your hips, as he tears the fabric down to your thighs.

Coming back to press against your bare cunt, fingers slipping against your folds. You’re unable to help the soft whimper as he parts you, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

“Please,” You whine, as he pets against you. Smearing your slick up to your clit again, his fingers parting just as he reaches it.

His cock presses against your leg, thick and stiff. A roll of his hips until it’s pressed snug against your cunt - jutting between your thighs just below his hand.

“Your pussy is downright leakin for me, sweetheart,” He growls, “You need it that bad?”

You whine, your head turning to look - watching how he arcs over you. That blown-wide look in his eyes again, as you nod.

There’s a split second as his hand leaves you, before it’s cracking down on the meat of your ass. You gasp in shock as you go still beneath him, the pain unexpected and swirling with your heady need.

“Say it out loud,” He barks out, “Tell me just how much.”

Your skin stings, his fingers twitch before he kneads roughly at the flesh - the burn of it akin to way you ache for him.

“I need it,” You keen, “Need your cock. Want you to fuck me-”

The words cut off - a rough hum of approval before he’s lining himself up, a hand curving to grip your hip. The other flexes around your wrist, before he’s driving himself deep with a single, powerful thrust.

Your cry is loud, this time. Low and rough, pushed from your lungs as your pussy makes room for him.

“Fucking christ, you’re tight,” He grunts, unable to help the shallow buck of his hips, “Better than my goddamn dreams.”

It makes you moan - the gritted-out admission not lost on you.

Even with how wet you are, you still feel like you’re stretched wide. An ache radiating through you, sparking to life as he inches out, only to plunge deep again. The table bites into your hips, back arching as he sets a rough rhythm.

The sharp twinge starting to fade, as you begin to accommodate him. Growing accustomed to the heavy weight of him inside you, the steady stroke against your walls that has you starting to clench down around him.

Your breathing grows shorter, faster. Face turning to bury in the curve of your shoulder, muffling the moans that are pushed from you - until his hand is leaving your hip, twisting in your hair with a sharp tug.

Forcing your head back, his grip anchoring you.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. Know you saw those eyes on you,” He’s lost the steady edge to his voice, words turning rough, “Go on, be loud.”

The Ghoul’s hips pound harder, the rough texture of his cock stroking deep. Each sending a current through you, leaving your fingers and toes flexing, aching for just a little bit more.

“Saw you come in with me. Show ‘em who you belong to.”

“Fuck!” You cry, wishing you had a name to scream. Unable to muffle your ragged breath, the moans he pulls from you.

It fills the room, melding with the slick punch of his cock into your wet and needy cunt. Better than before, because his hands are on you now - leaving your hair, blunt nails dragging down your back. Ghosting across your hip, where your skin presses into the wood.

“Touch me.” You beg, again, “Let me touch myself, I can’t-”

His hand withdraws, and you whine - backpedaling. Afraid that he’s going to pull from you, finish himself across your back or your ass for asking.

“Please. Fuck, please. Don’t, I’m so close-”

He groans at your plea through clenched teeth.

Releasing his grip on you, only for his hand to slide to the base of your throat. His other arm looping beneath you as he hauls you against him, flattening against your ribs.

Palming at a soft breast, as you’re pulled up and pressed flushed to his chest.

“Listen to you, miss manners,” He grins - teeth bared, “That’s more like it, honey.”

The bandolier cuts into your skin, the wood into your thighs. And change in the angle that has your cries growing louder as his cock pounds against a soft spot inside you. Warm breath ghosting against your neck, deep rumbling growls in your ear.

Everything fades, growing hazy. His fingers tighten, but not enough to fully choke the air from you. An implication - your own hands wrapping around his wrist to anchor yourself to him.

You can hear him inhale you, the scrape of teeth against your skin above the heavy press of his fingers. Salvation in the way the hand splayed beneath your chest drifts lower, his voice smooth in your ear.

“This is for listening,” He husks, “You understand?”

Relentless, when his fingers press against your clit. Slick and circling until you’re grinding into his touch, meeting the hard slap of his hips.

The gasping chant of “fuck, fuckfuckfuck, please-” turning into mindless whimpers, his rough rhythm growing sloppy.

“Goddamn, you feel good.” It’s a ragged sigh, “Feel your tight little cunt squeezing me. Gonna make a mess, sweetheart?”

It sounds muted, layering with a ringing white noise. Your nails bite into his wrists as the swiftly building tides breaks. Almost missing the sweet growl in your ear.

“Let them hear how a pretty thing like you sounds coming on a cock like mine.”

You do, with the next swirl of his rough fingers - the sound broken as he rips it from you.

Bearing down around the cock that fits so deeply into you, with each blissful pulse of your release. Forgetting about the rest - about the outside world - as your nerves alight with pleasure.

His hand drops from your throat to brace against the table. Bending you flat again as he feels you flutter and gush around his length, crushing you against the top as blunt teeth close against the pulse point of your throat, biting down.

The sounds of his own orgasm muffled - a ragged groan as his cock throbs, as he fucks himself deep into you. Tasting the salt of your skin as you yelp, clenching around him - milking him until your walls are coated with his spend.

He hadn’t meant to - but the urge to pull from you had wavered the moment he buried himself in your cunt. Abandoned completely, after feeling you come so sweetly around him. An instinct lingers even now - to enjoy the soft press of your body against his, your warmth.

You shiver as his lips brush your neck, the closest thing to an apology as you’ll get - before he’s pulling away from you, leaving you clenching and empty.

A ragged hand slips between your thighs as you prop yourself up on your elbows, catching your breath. Pleasure still radiating from your core as fingertips swipe through the come that is just starting to leak from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He laughs - the sound ragged, with a flash of yellowed teeth.

“Guess this means you better start cookin’.”

The Vault Suit is left beneath the table, a crumpled up reminder that you’re happy to leave behind.

Your cheeks burn as you leave the saloon - the strangers from before cleared out. A definite wobble to your steps - something that The Ghoul certainly notices, the low tilt of his hat hiding the curling pull of his lips.

Outlining the path towards the next bounty as you find your way out, guessing where you might find a lab along the way.

And it’s only as the city starts to fade, that you realize -

He never bound your wrists again, after.

I have the brainrot for this man for sure! Thank you for stopping by & reading 💖 (and I have also been reading so much about the new chem the Ghoul takes! For plot & smut reasons - I am going with RadAway, haha)

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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tihgnari · 2 years

Text

ꕤ 43. something more valuable

tw: sorta? kidnapping, violence / wc: 1k

you're currently sitting on the softest sofa known to man, staring back and forth as ayaka takes matters into her own hands. you weren't in the best of moods after getting shot down by aoki while trying to convince her to text ayato; she was so stubborn it felt like you were talking to a damn wall.

"think of it this way," ayaka says, looking at a cross-armed aoki straight in the eye as they paced back and forth in the middle of the suite's living room. "you ask ayato where he is, he responds, then we go meet him, yn and him make up, and voila! no more wedding! happy ever after for everybody! doesn't that sound amazing?"

your eyebrows raise when you see the cogs working in aoki's brain.

ayaka sends you a tiny non-verbal message, and you immediately catch on. "right! if you ask him for us now, ayaka herself will guarantee ayato will no longer be your problem. i think that's a win-win situation right there."

aoki sighs. "...fine. i'll go ask him."

—

the hotel he's checked in may not be as fancy as the principe, but when he's too busy running away from a loveless marriage forced onto him, even a shabby inn can feel a hundred times better than the five star hotel his grandfather had arranged for them.

"this hotel's kinda good, too, don't you think?" you whisper at ayaka inside the elevator, but there were too many people crammed into the cart for you to see her expression in the elevator's mirrored walls.

"the carpets look unmaintained and the plants at the lobby are plastic but sure, the hotel's a-okay—ouch!"

you pinch her side, panicked, before looking around if an employee might've overheard your conversation.

"yn, i'm telling the truth," ayaka defends herself. "we just walked in, asked if an ayato kamisato had checked in in this establishment, they said yes and even gave us his door number. how is this safe? what if we were debt collectors or… or a gang looking for him? like—come on, is customer privacy not a thing here?"

ding!

"alright, this is our floor," you mutter, pulling a still complaining ayaka's wrist through the throng of people. you can still hear her talking as you walk down the hallway, silently chanting the door number of ayato's room as you pass by.

502… 503… 504… there! 505!

only when you raised your fist to knock on the mahogany door did you realize there's a slight tremble in your hand. for a split second, you froze, the reality of the situation and what you're about to do and who you're about to face suddenly becomes too real and too overwhelming for you.

"hey."

ayaka gently squeezes your shoulder.

"i know my brother, and i know he'll forgive you."

"thank you."

you knock. three times. your heart rate spikes when you hear movement on the other side of the door. heavy footfalls on the carpet, striding closer to the door. you see the door knob turn, practically hearing the mechanism inside turning into place as the door swings open and—

"girls, i've been expecting."

"wait, what? grandpa?!"

that was the only thing you heard, until a heavy object came in contact with the back of your head, successfully knocking you out cold.

—

when you come to be, your head's still aching and you just want to go right back ahead to sleep, but the two people screaming didn't let that happen. the room seems to be barren and incredibly small. even in your half-conscious state, you've registered this fact solely for how loud their voices jumped within the small room.

"what is the meaning of this, grandpa?! order them to untie me right this instant! i'm your granddaughter for god's sake!"

ayaka seems to have already grasped the full length of the situation you both were in. not that you were surprised.

you were slowly but surely coming to, but the room has yet to notice.

"i can't believe you just hit my best friend with a metal bat, you asshole! you're going to pay for that!" ayaka hisses at the person standing on her side. she recognizes his face. a guard his grandfather had since before she even came to be in this world.

"i don't see any fault in my actions. she may be your friend as you so claim but to me? she's a lowly scum who managed to seduce my grandson and turn him away from me. ayato had always understood his duty of marrying for the sake of the family business—for my sake."

ayaka used to adore her grandfather as she never had a proper father figure in her entire life. but only now is she seeing the ugly truths her childlike mind had been too ignorant to miss.

"what grandfather even makes—"

"i can't possibly fathom what this woman has that made ayato threaten his mother saying he'll renounce his inheritance! to make him want to leave behind everything i've built for this family! such selfishness should not be tolerated!"

"that's because he found something more valuable!"

you flinched at the resounding slap you heard.

it was a split-second action. something that a normal person could've missed if he was too preoccupied with something else — but nothing slips past the current head of the kamisato family.

"i see you're awake," he says, addressing you. "good. both of you should hear what i'm about to say next."

their grandfather straightens his robes, adjusting the grip he has on his sterling-silver walking cane topped with an extravagant, swarovski-studded japanese camellia — the kamisato family crest.

"i'm done tolerating your tricks, ayaka, may this punishment straighten your priorities and remind you that nothing is more important nor valuable than family. ayato and aoki are to be wed, and not one of you is to spoil those plans. you both will remain here, inside this room, locked away with no communication to the outside world at least until the ceremony is over. i'd hate to do this, but you girls left me with no choice."

he turns to leave and ayaka screams at the top of her lungs.

"mom will never forgive you for doing this to me!"

her grandfather stops, standing at the frame of the door.

"no, child. it's your mother that should ask for my forgiveness for raising such an insolent child like you."

LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next

a kamisato ayato social media au

summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?

notes — yay chapter bc im in a good mood cuz i won my 50/50 hehe pray i get his cons and signature weap after i offer scara all my savings lmao

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#genshin imagines #kamisato ayato imagines #kamisato ayato smau #genshin smau #genshinimpact smau #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #ayato kamisato x reader #ayato kamisato x y/n #ayato kamisato x you

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tparker48 · 3 months

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Request for anonymous

"Let's see..add a few fine tuning on the stitches, tighten up the bells…" Merkeo muttered as he faced his computer desk, threading a needle through his jester suit. "Just a little bit of tugging and..There!”

He took a step back to admire his handy work. The black and red spandex glistened beneath his lamp, slumping from the miniature desk to the wooden board of the one beneath. It took him weeks to find a suit customizable, he could hardly count the shops he visited that sold suits for people his size. He took the suit from the desk, reminiscing its silky texture as it glided between his fingertips.

"Wait until the the peeps get a load of this, I can already tell this DnD session will be-"

A beep rang from the magnet on the front door, a hard thud striking the panel as a spiked cleat forced it to the wall. "Hey nerd! Guess who's home!" A voice boomed as the rest of their body lowered into the frame, the metal borders of the door screaming as they made their way passed. "I swear this damn door needs an adjustment. Hey nerd! Nerd!"

"I'm right here, Fervin!" Merkeo shouted, rubbing his ears from the vibrations in his ear drums. "Must you shout so loud? We're in a dormitory."

"What can I say? when I make an entrance, I make an entrance."

He slumped his duffel bag from his shoulder, tossing it against the wall as its weight sent a pulse through the floor. Merkel watched as his form strolled closer, like a looming storm cloud about to pour upon a landscape. The computer chair rushed back, Fervin's hide forcing the cushion down as it raced eagerly to support him.

He crossed his arms behind his back. "Oh it feels good to be out of that lecture room. The professor really cracked down on that essay, even double checked to ensure it was mine. Guess some pencil necks can’t handle such great genius."

"You mean my work. My whole sleep schedule’s out of whack because of your pestering."

the desk shook as spikes prodded upon the table. Merkel nearly yelped at its prickling touch, his hands casting to the air. "And it worked like a charm." He kicked his other foot upon the table. But he paused as he gazed at the slim ware hanging from his foot. “Huh, what are those? pajamas?”

The footwear wagged as Merkeo raced to retrieve his suit, cautiously eying the coned steel as they swiped from side to side. “If you must know, It’s my jester suit. And I would very much like it without holes for DnD.”

"That nerd shit? Pfft, lame. You can’t expect to get babes with a thing like that. Now that spring break party tonight, that’s where it’s really at. And guess who’s cohost? This guy!”

Merkeo managed to grab ahold of his suit, sliding it from the cold pedestal as he tumbled back to the desk. "You? Cohost? I don’t think they chose wisely on that."

“Cute, can’t be surprised to hear that from a bookworm. But If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to party.” He said. “The drinks, the babes, I can already imagine it now. And by the end of the night, I’m gonna bang me a cheerleader."

He raised his palms to the air, his fingers swaying to trace an hourglass shape. His hips slowly began to thrust, his junk pushing through from its pouch as it slithered to the leg hole of his shorts. Merkeo caught a glimpse as the phallus peeked out, shielding his eyes as his face flushed red.

"Ay Ay! TMI man, I don't want to see all that!"

"Aww is the nerd getting flustered?" His legs stretching over the desk, the hefty package between his legs gyrating against the wooden furniture. "I bet you wish you could be all over this."

"I’d rather do quizzes than be that close to you." he replied, "Will you put that away already?!"

"Hah, that's what I like about you nerds, always so squeamish." he slid his waist back to the chair, groping at the bulky outline. "Luckily for you, this bad boy has its eyes set on the ladies tonight. It can't waste time on small fries like you. Though it might give that thin noodle of yours some pointers."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Peh, suit yourself."

He grabbed a few beer bottles, hoisting them over his broad shoulders as he walked out of the room. Merkeo sighed, taking back to his suit as he checked for punctured points. Aside from dust particles, the fabric was unscaved. Thank goodness, he didn't know what he’d do if it became damaged.

He returned to his desk to tend to the rest of his props, organizing the board and creatures he was ready to unleash upon his members. Another hour ticked by in a flash, his notes piling over one another from his practice sessions. He yawned as he checked the clock on the wall, a quarter past 7:00 PM.

“Time for a break.” he leaned into his chair.

He took to his computer as he looked into his group chat for the group. Many online were already talking about the upcoming session, sharing new lores while roleplaying in their own channels. What a treat it was to indulge in fantasy, he thought, may he could give them a taste of the jester magic. He reached for his cards to select to share, but paused as he eyed his costume. He eyed the group chat as many shared their costumes, it sent an urge through his body, his fingers wiggling at the temptation of trying it on. He didn’t want to spoil the magic with a picture, but to send a picture of their grad DM, it may just make them excited, if not himself.

“Oh.. why not, I still have to make sure it fits anyway.”

He picked up the costume as he held it on his shoulder, stripping himself as the cool conditioning washed over him like a wave. He slipped his limbs inside, his hairs standing on end as they brushed against the elastic spandex. He soon put on his Cap n Bells as they dangled from the sides of his head, its little chimes sending a giggle from inside as he tapped at the round spheres.

“I think a quick selfie might do the trick. ‘The crowned jester and his future pawns’. Oo, that kinda has a ring to it.

He hovered his phone to get a better angle for himself, shifting the filter as sparkles boarded the frame. But the ground shook beneath as he caught himself, the water bottle on the desk rippling. An earthquake? It can’t be, the tectonic plate wasn’t near the university. Heavy thumps slowly overwhelmed the silent rumbles, traveling through the walls before it stopped at the front door.

The magnet chimed, but the handle didn’t turn as grumbling lingered behind it. The magnet reactivated, and pounds struck the door, as if a wild beast was trying to force its way in. Merkeo eyed the door as its pounds became aggressive, the green lighting of the magnet flickering before another strike snuffed out its light. The door slammed open, and wallowing filled the room.

Fervin loomed inside as he entered. One of his shoes were missing, and his "Damn it all..who do they think I am?! I'm a fuckin'.. Football player!"

His weight leaned as his feet stomped forward, like a drunk T-rex trying to run as he staggered to couch. He tripped over his own feet as he hurled toward the cushion, knocking the couch from its sliders as his head wedged into the soft gaps.

Merkeo used the railing in the room to make it over to the couch, standing upon the armchair. "The hell happened to you?"

"It's horrible..I go all that way to seek her out..An.. the hag blue balled me. Me!" He groaned into the cushions, scraping from its soft crevice. “You know how many want to..to.. Fuck me?!"

Fervin turned his head, his roaring breath flowing out like a dragon. Merkeo fanned the air as the smell of alcohol polluted the once clean air, holding the collar of his suit over his mouth to deter himself from passing out.

“You went and got yourself again! Didn’t you learn from the last party you went to.”

“Screw you!.. I don’t take orders from you! Why I..I” tears slowly sleeping through his eyes, a whimper escaping. “Damn it all..why do they have to make it so hard?”

Merkeo palmed himself. He must’ve drank too much if he’s already at his wallowing state. He sighed before hopping to the side of the lughead's face, caressing his cheek as its warmth filled his palm. "Hey now..you. There's no need to fuss about one girl." He said to him, wincing at the drool wetting his pants. "There's many out there in the sea, and I'm sure there's some out there waiting for him."

"Yeah right!" He blurted, knocking Merkeo onto his butt. " That's not gonna solve my aching cock right now!"

Fervin dug a finger through his waistband, the jock’s musk mixing with the tainted air as flesh squeaked against the sofa’s rubbery surface. The forearm above Steamrolled Merkeo as it traversed toward the bulging phallus, answering its wet call as his stubby fingers pampered its side. It throbbed it wedged itself between the crevice of the cushions, the jock’s hips flexing as he shuttered.

“Oh Yeah..that’s the stuff.” He muttered, his hips pumping into the couch.

"Dude! Not in the living room! Do that somewhere else."

"Sue me..I'm too pissed and horny to move."

His strokes increased as his hips moved like a wave, the wet slap of flesh overwhelming the silence in the room. Merkeo raced to comfort his ears as he moved to a cubard, searching through his supplies. He flipped over towels stashed in the corner, and found a plastic bottle of water sticking out from its packet. He wrapped his arms around the slender bottle and dragged it out, heaving it toward his drunken roommate on the couch.

“Alright, let’s get you sober so you don’t break the wall again?” Merkeo said.

Fervin grumbled as his knees slumped beneath him, thrusting him upward as his wait trailed backwards. Merkeo eyed cautiously at his blundering, backtracking as the stumbling feet trailed closer.

“I didn’t say move!” he yelped, rolling the bottle the opposite way.

But he wasn’t fast enough to outrun Fervin, his feet kicking in front of the other as he tilted like a chopped tree. The floor darkened before a wall of mass crashed at his back, burly arms planting the ground with a thunderous thump.

“That lady’s cheeks were cold… I’m barely s..satisfied.” He pawed the ground. “I need more!”

“Well you’re not getting one when you're on top of me! Now get off!”

His glassy eyes opened as he glared at him. "Piss off, man! I don’t need your..” he paused as he stared at the small roommate, his eyes blinking before they widened.

Merkeo met his gaze, looking at the marbled floor before looking back. "What?"

"Hey..where’d this toy come? Ho..How long have you been there?"

“Toy?" He blinked, tugging at his suit. "No, this is my suit, remember?"

"And it talks!..oh man..This must be my lucky day.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about. All that booze has gotten to your head. Why don't you go lay down and-" A palm wrapped around his body, plucking him from underneath. "Hey!"

His hand gripped like a vice, Fervin hauling him away as he returned to the couch with a drunken waltz. He was hurled into the closed fist as his back met with the soft cushion. He strung themselves to to the floor, a signal that rushed to the titanic cock as it pointed from his body. Merkeo pounded a hand at the sides of the jock’s fingers, the other covering his nose as the smell of rubber and jizz invaded his nostrils.

The phallus loomed closer, stamping at the gap between the middle fingers as it struck his chest. "A perfect fit..awesome." He slurred beneath his breath, his palms lifting as Merkeo plunged into the cavern of the couch, the bulbous head stamping his chin as it ensnared between his walls.

As the cock reached the bottom of the gap, it was a catalyst for Fervin’s arousal as hips began to pump. Flesh skidded against the silky suit, the phallus ramming into a pocket above Merkeo as the little bells were swallowed by the slit. Its warmth was overwhelming, his nostrils filling with a sour aroma as it stuck to his suit like cologne..

Merkeo raised his arms to shield himself. "Wait!…I'm not!.."

"Just a little more..a little more."

Fervin doubled his efforts as his hips twisted in place. The sweat that once dried between the cushions humidified as it loosened its restraints upon the tender skin, joined by the drizzling pre as it lathered into his roommate’s skin like lotion. The phallus scooped higher as it smashed Merkeo’s defense, the puffed edges moving like a wave as it stamped at his face.

He was stamped firmly as seed dressed his head, but unsatisfied puffs echoed above, a palm dragging him from underneath the bulging member. "Nrgh..that's not enough!" Fervin slurred from his lips. "How are you going to be a toy if you can't even get me off?"

"That's because I'm not a toy you lughead!"

His eyes squinted, eying the little roommates as strands of his own pre dripped to the couch. "Wha?..sure you are..I'm looking right at you." His fingers stamped across his body, the lonely bell on his right tuft jangling at his prods. "You look like a toy..feel like a toy. You are one…I'm just not using it right."

Gravity shifted as the palm tilted on its side, hovering over the hairy crotch. His other pinched eagerly at the drooling slit, pinching it open as its seed flowed down its underbelly like lava.

"What..what are you doing? No, hell no! You're not putting' me in there!"

"You better make this work..toy!"

"I told you I'm not a-!" his stomach dropped as the palm rushed toward the cock, a wet belch erupting from the cream filled phallus as it opened wide. Murky white fluid filled his vision as the orifice encircled his head. His shouts muffled from the bulging head, his palms slipping from the sides of phallus

Fervin's cock throbbed as it suckled at its meal. "Yeah…yeah that's the stuff. Get..right in there."

The palm loosed as fingers climbed over his feet, feeding more of Merkeo inside as its underbelly bulged with his body. With a giddish chuckle, he corkscrewed the rest of his feet inside as the slit closed. Wads of pre rushed into his body as it blinded him of the trip ahead, the muscular tube getting thickening as a suction pulled at his body.

A mere lump cast itself upon the jock's shaft, pulse after pulse dragging him down as it squeezed into the base of the shaft and into his prostate. More seed flooded the tender bean as the valve closed behind him, leaving him at the mercy of the muscular waves as it tenderized his body. He struggled to hold them back, his limbs sinking into their surface as he tried to find a way out. Pressure tugged at his feet, yanking him into the source of the musky fluid as he was dragged through the labyrinth swirling in the Jock's waist.

He held his breath as he was dragged through its loops, before he found him at its ridge as he slid through a long tube. He was deposited inside an enclosed sac, the walls forcing him to lay straight as if he were in an airtight compartment.

"Damn it Fervin, this has gotten way too far!!" he scowled, Worming himself toward the valve that winked out of reach, taunting at his predicament before it vanished behind a fold of seed coated flesh.

His calls were left unanswered, drowned out by the jock's beastly grunts as it reverberated through the walls.

wet slaps came from outside, jostling the testicle as if it were a fish bag. "That's the job..right there!" Fervin huffed louder.

The jock roared as the walls shrank around Merkeo’s body, the valve above him slurping the pool from the chamber as climbed through the tubes. The ceiling spasmed as spurts muffled the walls, Merkeo took the chance to breathe, but shriveled as his lungs filled with the ripe aroma of salt and bodily fluids. He squirmed along the walls to follow the fluid out, but his fingers wouldn't register as the stiff folds pucker in place.

Droplets of the lukewarm substance dripped at his back, and he groaned. "There, you had your little release. Now get me out of this thing!" He paused to hear the outside, the heavy wet thumps shaking the chamber as he swayed in place. "Hey! Are you listening?"

"Oh man..you are a good toy." He muttered, his voice distorted as if he were a broken speaker. "Ah really…good one."

"Yeah yeah, great, now get me out!"

Fervin’s words slowed as they traveled through his body. Gravity flicked as a heavy mass compressed the ceiling. The layer of flesh surrounding the testicle squashed at his torso.. The jock's breath grew heavy, rattling the muscles like rusted gears. He's kidding, he thought to himself, he sends him down his cock and now he's taking a snooze?

"You’re not sleeping with me in here!." He shouted. "Wake your ass up!"

He rattled the sac like an ape in a cage, thrashing himself in the compressed space to disrupt Fervin’s sound slumber. It was only when his knees cushioned into the round testicle did he get a reaction, the jock's body springing to life as a moan howled through the environment. Gravity shifted again, and the flesh barricading the orb pinned him down as the round lump cushioned his face.

He groaned as it tucked him against the corner wall, singing its whale songs of gurgles and churns to its captive audience. "Damn it.."

The hours ticked by since the events of that evening. Fervin tossed in his slumber, snarling from his nostrils as he rocked over the arms of the sofa. He stretched his limbs to scratch himself, but fell backwards as gravity pulled him to the floor. Sunlight erupted from the winder, burning into his eyes like a flashbang as he groggily got up.

He picked himself up from the floor, his balance tumbling to the cushion as he caught himself.. "Fuck what a night, all that partying really tired me out.." He scratched absently at his crotch, warm skin sticking to his fingers as he cocked it back, His barreled cock resting between his legs. “Where the fuck did my shorts go?..”

He stretched before getting up from the couch, giving one last yawn as he fetched a protein shake from the fridge. He looked at his roommates' things, his props scattered along the tabletop as his cotton bed was toppled from the windowsill. The nerd’s already gone, he thought, guess he decided to leave early for spring break. That’s good, he didn’t have to worry about underwear then. He drank at his shake and moved onto his side of the room, kicking his suitcase between his legs. He crumpled his clothes, tossing them inside as a hill slowly formed.

He scratched at himself once more, reminiscing at his fingers touch as his nut flexed over them. But he squinted as he gazed at the round sphere. Something was different about them, his right testicle sagged lower than the other. He fondled beneath its weight as his cock throbbed. It might just be his imagination, he did hold a lot of his seed in there last evening.

"I’m sorry big boy, I got too drunk to enjoy you properly.” He massaged his shaft. “But I bet you got plenty of rest after you had your fun."

"Absolutely not?"

He blinked at the sudden voice, looking at his Cock. He poked at its pudgy surface for a response, but it only throbbed. "Heh..hehe, I must have had way too many shots last night. Thought I just heard my cock talking."

"Not the cock you idiot!" The voice echoed again.

He cocked a brow as he stared at his member, movement rising beneath the sagging right testicle. He scooped his sac into his palm, pinching at the active orb as he rotated it. A squirming lump curled along its edge, a soft imprint appearing before a flex pulled it down.

His palm flung from his ball, letting them swing between his legs as his heart pounded. "What the hell did I drink last night?! My ball's coming alive!"

"No, It's me! Merkeo!"

"Merkeo?" He paused, looking back at the wiggling lump. He poked at its side, a pathetic whimper escaping from it. "It is you, nerd! The hell are you doing in my balls!"

"Take a guess! You shoved me in here on another one of your drunk sprees."

"Drunk spree? I don't know what the hell you're talking about." He said. “As far as I can remember I was alone..then again, there was this talking toy. Don’t remember much but it kept squawking about not being a..toy. Huh, well that explains all the whining.”

“You fucked me into the couch.”

He groaned upon the nerd’s response "Yeah well..you should’ve been more careful. It’s not my fault you’re in there.”

“It literally is!"

"Potato, Potato."

He moved toward the glass mirror along the wall, reaching , putting on his underwear as he got dressed. He pulled the back as the thin fabric saddled his glutes, letting his cock spill over the pouch as he took to his suitcase.

His nuts jangled together like wind chimes, crashing into his thighs. "What are you doing now?"

"What do you think I’m doing? I’m packing for the weekend. I’ve got shit to do back at home, and since you're stuck with me, you'll just have to tag along until we get back."

"What?! I'm not staying in here! DnD is this weekend!" Merkel said, pressure climbed through his epididymis to the valve connecting to the rest of the cock. The right nut sway passively, flexing as the sensation of fingers prodded at the tight folds. "Gotta get..out of this thing!"

The jock snorted at the attempt. "Oh boy, aren't you nerds supposed to be smart or something? My cock doesn't take orders from nerds, it listens to one that has the oomph to shake it. And that's yours truly."

"Then get on with it already."

"You’d love that wouldn’t you? To see yourself ejected from a real cock." he fondled his nuts between his fingers. "Unfortunately I’m still spent. It's gonna be a long while before these babies are ready for another round."

“And how long would that take.”

“Hell if I know, 3 hours or so.” “Three hours?!”

“Yup, so might as well get comfy until I fetch for you.”

He raised his cock over the flap, sealing it inside the pouch as he tied his shorts. He reeled his luggage into the hallway, following the narrow passageway toward the elevator in the crossway. Movement shifted as Merke tried to adjust in the compact space, the bulk of Fervin’s nuts dog piling his lump as it jostled in the pouch of his jockstrap. That nerd really knows how to get under his skin. Literally. Though he'll give him one thing, it felt good to have his balls stimulated, like a hot girl playing with his balls. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside. As they closed, he groped at his crotch, humping at the air.

He picked up a soft whimper from beneath the fabric, pressure building at his testicle as soft kneads rested upon it. He still didn’t know how to feel above having the nerd in there,but at least he’ll help filling him up back home..

The ride with Fervin was a long and bumpy trip. Every passing moment was filled with flesh jumbling Merkeo around, marinating him in the little puddle that climbed at his ankles as the testicular wall shriveled and compressed. He didn't know how far they traveled, the outside was too muffled to depth the surrounding environment except for the purrs of jock’s vehicle. After another eternity of stewing in the jock's balls, inertia pulled ahead as his face was wrapped in a sheet of muscle.

His steps boomed as a door creaked open, the sound of a zipper being undone as the sac rolled on its side. "Ah, it's good to be back home." Fervin’s voice distorted through the walls..

Merkeo padded at the soft tissue to get the jock's attention, the testicle spooning into his torso. His palms were pinned by the protruding bulge, only managing to use his ankles as he bucked weakly as the ridge of the testicle.

A heavy thud struck the balls, the soft curvature of fingers pressing at his back. "Eh? oh yeah, forgot you were in there."

Not a surprise. "It's been hours since I've been here. Can you get me out now?"

“I told you that’s not how my nuts work, nerd. They need the energy to get them started.”

“You said you needed three hours!”

Fervin laughed heartily. “I said It’d take me three hours to fill them, I never said I’d be ready to release it.”

The sac shook as its contents plonked around, the seed secreting from the wall spreading out as they washed over Merkeo’s body. His stomach dropped as the fingers let go, the nuts beginning to sway as steps boomed outside. A soft pressure cushion at the walls, tight leather scrunching beneath him.

“Been a while since I checked on the game” Fervin said. “I wonder if my K/D is still intact.”

The jock’s weight shifted as the sac tilted, forcing Merkeo to spoon beneath the rough lump as seed polled at his shoulders. Fervin's voice could be heard beyond the walls, blurting comments as a controller clunked high above. His obnoxious bantering went on for another hour, his balls rocking periodically as a finger scratched at the testicular layer. Merkeo tried again to get him to answer, splashing at the pool of seed that splashed beneath his chin. But he only received a brush from one of the thighs, followed by cursing as he shouted at someone in the game.

Outside the sun loomed past the hill in the window, the crimson sky slowly turning blue as the moon rose from the horizon. Merkeo tilted his neck as he faced the quivering sphincter above, counting its flexes as seed drooled from its lips. It’s all he could do, with his limbs bathed into the milky pool as the muscle flexed in place.

“Fuck yeah!” Fervin’s voice blurted,the testicles thrusting forward before snagged. “Hope you like that grenade yas wuss! That’ll teach ya to steal my kill!”

“Fervin!” Merkeo called out, thrashing against the tender wall. “Fervin!”

The chamber shifted, pressure applying to his back. “What now nerd?”

“Are you ready yet? It’s getting kind of full in here.”

“Hmm..They are kinda heavy…” the pressure behind him pushed at his body, a thrust sending a wave over the little roommate. “And I’m already pumped as it is, why not.”

“Yes! Finally!”

A rumble boomed above, a bubbling torrent shaking the walls as pressure melted behind him. “Shit, I forgot all about dinner. Can’t wank one out on an empty stomach.”

Merkeo swayed as Fervin traversed the household, his steps hardening as it traveled through his body. Wrappers muffled from above as the jock giggled to himself, followed by a meaty crunch as he chewed on his food. He listened to symphony of crumpled wrappers and munching for moments, and still he had yet finished his feast. The fluid climbed higher, dosing his ears as if they dipping sauce.

The walls flexed, and he raced to force them back. “It's getting a little cramped in here, are you ready to release yet?” “Eh? Release what?”

“Your seed!”

“Oh yeah yeah, I’ll get right on it. Just..” an announcer muffled from outside, followed by bells as cheer muttered in the background. “Oo, the playoffs! I forgot that aired today.” He walked over as the sounds came closer, springs creaking beneath him.

“Wait a second, get me out first.”

“Don’t sweat it, it won’t be long. I’ll have you out by halftime, jock’s promise.”

Merkeo groaned at the response, working his limbs close to deter the walls from overtaking the pocket. He didn’t know if he could bear the salty aroma, each whiff was like intaking smelling salt, forcing him to buck at the round testicle that threatened to submerge him without hesitation. Buzzing rang from beneath him as a bubbled climbed into the pocket, his phone emerging from the pool as a notification was plastered upon it.

It was from one of the members, sending a message about the meet for tomorrow. He fiddled a finger toward its direction, its angled edge taping at his fingertips, before a fold greedily dragged it out of sight. He sighed as he faced the wall, thrashing it about to get Fervin’s attention. This time there was no response, all except his goofish giggling as he mocked the game. He couldn’t do anything but wait, tugging into the soggy fold as he closed his eyes.

A few minutes passed as he opened his eyes, once chaotic background softening as snores followed behind it. He was still in his balls, and he was fast asleep. In rage, he thrashed about the chamber to cause discomfort, swiping at the lump at his torso despite how weakly his limbs slipped off.

A roaring ocean filled his ears, as the side of his hear were submerged in milky pool. In shriveled defeat, he closed his eyes, awaiting for the jock to wake up once more. DnD was tomorrow, and he couldn’t stand being trapped in his nuts for a moment more. —-------------------------------------- Throughout the next day, he slept to conserve his energy, listening to Fervin’s wandering as carried out his activities. When waved of seed flowed into his nostrils, he shot awake, kicking the testicle as a jolt shook the walls. A groan escaped from the jock as fingers took to his balls, forcing him to adjust as the chamber tilted it’s side.

“Watch where you’re kicking in there will ya?” Ferman demanded. “These babies are to be treated with care!”

“These babies are a nightmare, I’ve been stewing in here for god now’s how long!”

“Oh please, you barely move in there, it can’t be that bad.” “You’re not the one neck deep in side!” He bent his knees to open more space, driving his feet into the sides of the testicular wall.

Its flesh raced to subdue, contracting its muscle around him like a snake. But he refused to let himself cave under its pressures, prying at the opposite wall.

Fervin’s body twisted. “What are you doing?”

“DnD is tonight, I can’t stay in your balls any longer. And if I have to cause a ruckus, then so be it!”

His body lit ablaze as he took to the lump, kneading into the tender walls as the testicle throbbed beneath its layer. Fervin’s fingers raced to subdue his efforts, but the sac was too full to add enough pressure, Merkeo using it as a shield as battered the walls with his own body.

After moments of struggling, a roar of defeat erupted from Fervin." Fuck it! Fine I’ll get you out.” he announced. “Was getting tired of hauling you around anyway."

The testicles swayed as he wandered outside. It wasn't long before pressure built beneath, the opposite testicle shifting before it dropped off a ledge. The sound of wet slaps returned from above, sending ripples in the chamber as the testicular sac compressed Merkeo's face.

"Ugh, my suit is so ruined, can't you pump faster?"

"Don't get your tidy widdies in bunch ya nerd, I'm almost there."

The walls flexed harder, compressing his feet as he squeezed along the hump like paste in a canister. The valve slowly began to quiver, widening slowly a seed rushed through its mouth. It flowed into its tubes like a pipeline, gulping periodically at the substance as he himself was pulled close to its lips.

Strands of his own hair were plucked between the soggy lips, crowning his head as seed piled his shoulder. But flex ceased as the narrow tube dried up, clamping at his head as seed disappeared into the abyss above. "What the? What's the hold up?"

A muffled ring vibrated the walls, the pounds halting as the jock shifted slowly. "Got a call." Fervin said, answering the device. "Bandi, my boy, what's up? Yeah I’ve been in town, just letting out some steam."

"Hey! Don't stop, keep going!"

"Give me a fucking minute, I'll get there…no no, just talking to a nerd is all I-…wait seriously?! Oh shit, count me in!"

The sac rattled from the jock’s excitement. "What are you doing out there?"

"The boys found a goldmine for some chicks from the cheerleading squad at the university. Looks we're heading to the bar."

"What?! What about me?! You still have to take me out!"

"I'll fetcha ya later, Right now I gotta fetch old faithful from the drawers. I'm gonna catch me a big one tonight"

The chamber thrashed as he braced himself for another tide, the thick goop dragging down his body like syrup. He stretched his limbs to pierce the tender muscle, but pouted at the meat pocket. Unbelievable, he was about to be free from this hellhole before that phone call. He couldn’t bear more of Fervin’s antiques for god knows how, but it appears he didn’t have much choice.. Before he knew it, the chamber moved as steps trailed outside, a door muffling open as the purrs of the truck returned.

And so began the trip to the bar. Voices muffled from the walls as Fervin greeted his friends, softer tones following them as he assumed they were women. His hips gyrating was the confirmation he needed, if not rhythmic throbbing from the shaft.

The minutes felt like an eternity as jazz played from the bar, glasses clanging together as the jock’s obnoxious chattering filled the void. His ears submerged in seed was a mercy compared to listening to the awful pick up lines he spewed from his mouth.

"This is so humiliating." he groaned.

"Hey baby, there's no need to take a seat on these raggedy old chairs, come take a gander at this one" Fervin said, heavy thumps causing the sac to dip.

Pressure ensued as the testicle rolled at his back. His torso sunk like an island landscape, dipping beneath the murky fluid as it climbed to his chin. He struggled beneath the titanic weight above, the thigh outside bouncing as it jostled the chamber..

"Oh my, you make a pretty good seat." A woman's voice said above.

"Oh ho baby, I can do more than just cushion."

"Oh for fuck sake." Merkeo covered his ears, hoping to drown out the conversation.

Another hour drew by as he listened to the oaf's bantering. At one point, chattering dwindled before the nutsack spilled forward, and the crushing weight was relieved. Fervin was on the move, the sounds of the bar growing distant until it became white noise in the background.

He scraped the wall before placing his ear against it, curiosity overwhelming him as he listened to the jock’s steps. The zipper of the pants were undone, and he spilled forward as flesh caught his fall.

"Here they are my dear, my pride and enjoy in all its glory."

"You weren't lying, it certainly is thick."

“He’s with a girl, of course he is.” his side cramp as a lump fondled his back, He squirmed to ease its protrusion, elbowing the testicle as the jock released a grunt.

"Is everything all alright?" The woman asked.

"Oh yeah sure, everything is just fine. Just a little..excited is all." Fervin replied. "Afterall, how can a guy not melt for a hot doll like yourself."

The chamber shook as the lump flattened, seed rushing from the other end like a dam as it splashed into Merkeo. Slow wet pounds filled the void, the testicle compressing before it squashed into his body. A disgruntled moan pierced the air as the sac swayed forward, a dulled edge separating the balls as softer moans echoed ahead..

God, She's sucking him off, as if his problem weren't already wacky enough. He fought the testicle to plug his ears, but its ridge forced them away, allowing the demented display to continuing as it intensified. The pressure returned as digits cupped behind him, thinner than the ones before as their pointy ends prodded his back.

The pool increased as it climbed over his head, a current seeping into the valve as it widened closer. Muscle contraptions echoed beyond the thick walls, glurking as the women's moan grew fierce. The sac pulse, and the valve widened as it guzzled seed to the surface..

"Hope you're thirsty, cause I'm gonna unleash my load inside."

"Like hell you are!" Merkeo blurted, thrashing from the chamber.

The lump prodding at his back vanished beneath murky waves, the balls dropping as they bashed against the jock’s thigh. "Did your balls just talk?!" The woman squealed.

"N..no? Did you hear them talking? I..I didn't hear them talking."

"Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting."

The sound of boots muffled from the outside, growing softer as the chamber thrashed about. "No! Come on babe, Come back!" Fervin called desperately for her, the door slamming shut. A vice grip wrapped the testicle, and Merkeo was smothered into the walls. "Damn it you nerd, you scared her off!"

"I scared her off?! I was nearly protein for her! I'm trying to get out from inside you, not end up in another."

"Well congratulations cause now I'm fucking limp, thanks for that." A bang sounded from outside as the jock began to walk. "Can't believe I got cock blocked by a nerd."

The sac rocked between his legs as the creaking door lingered from overhead, trailing off somewhere behind them as the sound of the roaring crowd returned. Merkeo tucked himself against the corner pocket of the chamber, it was the only place he could manage to breath without intaking the salty seed. He heard the jock's friend talking, reminiscing over the cheerleader storming out of the bar. His response wasn't pleasant, a squeeze smother the eager testicle against his head as if to point the blame upon him. but it relented as he relaxed, his balls drooping at the thigh.

He curled against the opposite wall, before a buzz rumbled from above, his phone squeezing from the compressed fold as it slid in front of him.

a photo appeared from beneath the milky substance, a group photo with his friends dressed in their fictional costumes. Speak of the devil, he thought, here comes the fruits of his labor reminding him of his failed attempt. What he would give to be there right now. He focused on the group photo, admiring the designs each of them chose to wear. but his eyes furrowed as he caught a glimpse of one of the members, his eyes widening.

"No way.."

That late night dragged into Sunday morning, as Fervin drove back into the dorm room as he tossed his backpack. Merkeo eyed the quivering sphincter above as its lips expanded, the walls compress as he catapulted into the tight tube. The ride up was rigid and slow, but fast enough to wipe seed clean from his skin before he squeezed back into the embrace of the jock's prostate. In a firm push he climbed up the urethral tube, skyrocketing into a tupperware container as he collided against the plastic wall.

The jock scorned above, the milky stream pouring faster as he shielded his face. "Alright that's enough!"

"Not yet it's not." Fervin said grumpily.

the stream pushed at his palms, piercing their way through as he slid into the smooth corner, it was only until his palm remained uncovered did it finally stop, and the slit sealed shut.

"Now it's finished” Fervin sneered at his handy work, shaking the drizzle from his cock before turning toward his stuff.

"Hold it!" Merkeo muttered, rising from the gunk. "We're.. we're not done."

"oh we're not huh? and what makes you say that?"

"You cost me the whole weekend! you have to make up for it!"

"Wha?.." the jock burst from laughter. "What are you on about, you're the nerd who got stuck in there in the first place."

"Only because you put me there. and nearly got me swallowed."

He rolled his eyes, fanning at the remark as Merkeo climbed out of the container. In a slippery leap, the little roommate lunged as he clung to the tufts of his jersey. It was like holding onto a moving vehicle, seed soaking his suit fanned to the luggage on the floor. Fervin drew closer to the computer desk, and jumped as he followed him to the tissue box, stomping at its opening as the giant palmed reached for it..

the jock's face soured. " You're really starting to get on my nerves."

"Likewise, but I'm not letting you off the hook. you’re going to pay up, right here, right now."

"Oh you gotta be shitting me." he chuckled. "Fuck it, I'll bite. What? What could a little nerd like you do to force me to pay you back."

He dug into the soggy pouch of his pocket of his suit, taking out his phone. He clicked at the photo, holding it to the air as Fervin's face loomed closer. "This is how!"

"Hah! What more nerds? Get over yourself."

"They may look like mere nerds to you. But one of them I'm sure you know quite well." he zoomed the photo closer, focusing on a woman dressed as a witch. "That lady right there is Cindy, the lead cheerleader of our university. I wonder what she might think if she finds out about our little mishap. I'm sure she'd love to share the adventure with the football captain."

The jock’s eyes widened before narrowing. "You don't have the balls to go through with that."

"Oh yeah? One already think's you have talking balls, I'm sure they can puzzle the rest if I speak up."

The jock growled, reaching a palm as the thick digits twitched in rage. it lunged forward, yanking a tissue from beneath Merkeo’s feet as it crumpled into a withered mess. "What do you have in mind?.."

"Heh."

"It's so good to see you again, Merkeo” Cindy greeted him, lowering a finger as he shook her hand. We missed you last night’s session. You’re wearing your night costume again?”

He scratched at his head, adjusting his cape. "Yeah, the other suit kinda got stuck in a rut. Fashion crisis am I right? But hey, we at least got time to catch up on a session. I even brought a plus one."

Heavy thuds came from the hallway, sharp squeaks lingering as a silhouette peered through the frame. An inflated dragon loomed in, Fervin’s soured face tucked beneath its chin as the rest of the rubbery suit hauled inside, he grumbled as he wrestled his tail inside, bumping it against the door.

"I'm sure you two know each other."

"We sure do.” Cindy said, “I didn't think he took part in DnD."

"You could say he had a change of heart." He replied, sharing glances with Fervin as his fiery gaze overshadowed the derpy expression of the inflatable.

They prepared the table as they all encircled it, Merkeo taking out the dice as many took their roles. scattered the props along the props behind the bordered sheet, he cleared his throat. "Alright ladies and gents, let’s begin. The adventurers set out upon the request of the king, a dragon has been spotted in a cave near the kingdom. You find the entrance and travel through its catacombs. There, surrounded by shimmering gold and diamonds, lay the beast. Sprawled upon its haunches as it snarled at your intrusion.”

Merkeo paused as he scooped the dice in hand, lending them to one of the members dressed as a wizard. “Care to start us off.”

"Oh Oh! I roll to ride the ride dragon"

"Try it and I'll flatten you like a crumpcake, pinhead!" Fervin snarled.

"Ah ah, not without a roll you're not." Merkeo assorted, nodding toward the little wizard.

The wizard squeed as they shook their hands in place, the dice jumbling like ice cubes as they rolled them to the thin sheet crossing the table. both dices toppled themselves, number nine marking the both of them.

"ooo, Nat 18. the wizard casts a construct to cast himself atop the dragon."

The wizard let out a high pitched squeal as They climbed aboard the inflatable forearm. Fervin eyed in disgust as the little one stood atop of him. the googly eyes of the dragon jangled as they clung to one of the ears, pulling it from one side of his body to the other.

the dragon squeaked as it smothered Fervin’s face, his neck jerking from side to side. "Hey! what the-?!"

“Wow, you really are pulling your weight." Merkeo said. I figured you'd make a good dragon.”

"Get them the fuck off me!"

"mm, not how it works. you gotta announce it, then roll."

"Oh for the-" he reached for the dice at the end of the table, fingers denting the barrier as they rattled. "The dragon attempts to throw the nuisance off."

He flung the dice forward, their forms streaking across the table like cannons as they pushed the barrier back. The dice came to a standstill, number one marking them both.

"Ooo two, the dragon failed to throw the wizard off. bummer."

"The hell?! what kind of bullshit is that I-"

"Our rodeo isn't over yet, dragon!" the wizard yelled, heaving at the inflated ears like reins. "Your hide will be a fine reward for my potions!"

"Crushing you is still on the table you damn pest!"

Merkeo watched as the two of them bicker, admiring the jock's flailing as he walked sluggishly against the walls. but he turned his head as Cindy whispered for his attention, lending an ear toward her.

"He seems pretty aggressive for a DnD player, Are you sure he's here to play?" She asked.

He looked toward the two once more, the wizard yanking backward as Fervin pivoted like a horse on a hill. He smiled as he placed a hand on his cheek. "Oh yeah, I'm sure."

#cock vore #giant

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hp-hcs · 7 months

Note

IM SO GAY FOR THEO ITS INSANE, Theodore Nott x ftm Reader PLEAAASE. Your fics got my kicking my legs and twirling my hair fr. Everytime i see you update I get so EXCITED

you are so fuckin sweet cmere lemme mwah 😚💋

this one is not particularly good nor coherent, cause it’s really late and i have no idea how my eyes are still open ngl but this request was just SO GOOD i couldn’t wait till tomorrow xx

scars — roommate! theodore nott x ftm! post top surgery! reader

how is this man allowed to exist istg

Warnings: reader has had top surgery, the author has not (yet); may be inaccurate idfk

requests r open mfs. be like this rad anon. request.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. After drying off, you realized you’d made a mistake.

You’d forgotten a shirt.

Not that big a deal, right? Wrong.

Two large scars cut their way across your chest. A source of pride for you, but one that still made you a bit self conscious nonetheless.

You could hear your roommate, Theodore, banging around just outside the door. You started to mentally panic.

Theodore didn’t know you were transgender. You’re fucked.

You cursed under your breath, buttoning up your pants and running a hand through your hair as you considered your options.

You could wrap your towel around your chest? No, that’s even more obvious.

You could ask him to hand you a shirt? But then he’d want to know why.

You could just hide in the bathroom until he goes away? That’s pathetic, no.

Cursing whatever higher power that gave you the wrong fucking body to begin with, you decided on your last real option:

4. Just act confident.

That was the stupidest option yet.

You chewed your lip, sighing before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out into your dorm room.

Maybe he just won’t notice?

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen m- oh.”

Nevermind. You’re fucked.

Theodore stared at you. He was half dressed himself, standing there in only his plaid pajama bottoms. A quick spike of envy hit as you imagined what it would be like to have a body like his, one that you could just walk around shirtless in like it was no big deal.

It didn’t help that your roommate was also hot as hell.

Theodore’s eyes flicked from your face to your chest, then back up to your face. His mouth hung open slightly as he studied the large scars.

“U-uh…m-my sweater. Have you seen it?” He awkwardly recovered.

“On your desk,” you supplied, passing by him and picking your shirt up off of your bed where you must’ve left it.

He didn’t make any move towards his desk, still just standing still. “Er…Y/N…?”

You pulled your shirt on and started doing up the buttons. “Yeah?”

“What’s- what’re those from? Your scars?”

His hand suddenly came to rest lightly on your shoulder, startling you. As you turned to look at him, he snatched his hand back. Although you looked deep into his eyes, you saw no judgement, only curiosity.

“Top surgery.”

His hands, seemingly of their own volition, moved up to clasp over each of yours, effectively stopping you from buttoning your shirt up further. He slowly pulled your hands away from the row of buttons, letting go of your hands once they reached your sides, then unbuttoning the few buttons you’d managed to get done.

Fuck, that’s hot. You’re fucked.

Your shirt hung open, and he took the opportunity to push it off your shoulders. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you were convinced that you must’ve you stopped breathing minutes ago when he paused, his fingers hovering over one of your scars.

“Can I?” He whispered.

You nodded, unable to say anything. He rested his hands on either side of your ribcage, smoothing his thumbs over the ends of the scars.

You shivered, standing still so that he could continue. He held onto you like you were a prized treasure; something to be revered.

“Fucking gorgeous, Y/N,” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than anything. “Prettiest boy in this whole damn school.”

Mouth hanging open in shock, you thought nothing of it before you were leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Pulling away, your cheeks heated up. Theodore’s eyes were blown wide, and his thumbs continued their motion across your ribs. He leaned forward himself and kissed you properly.

His hands left your torso, instead coming up to cup your face. He kissed you with slow, promising passion, crowding into your space and practically enveloping you in himself.

You eventually pulled away to gasp for air, and he chased after your mouth with his own.

His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess from where you’d been running your fingers through it, his lips swollen and red.

He looks absolutely gorgeous.

Yep. You’re fucked.

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #trans reader #trans #transgender #i love him #hes just so babygirl

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survivalist-anon · 2 months

Text

Log 1: The first encounter

It's been a year since my falling out with my boyfriend. What was supposed to be a trip back home to collect my gear has now ended up becoming a whole move back to Pine Hills....talk about going back to square one...

It's another lovely, foggy day in Chehalem Ridge. Hoping to bag at least deer for the next few weeks of meat rations. Honestly, I'm starting to become grateful for grandpa incessively bringing on his hunting trips, this move has done an absolute number on my bank account. Beef here is starting to get expensive ever since that garbage Wonder Mart bought out the local stuff. Well, times have changed. I've always liked the taste of venison anyway.

Things here have been even more worrisome over the past few years too.....farm animals being slaughtered left, right and center....those clowns from the National Guard Tillamook base have been hounding the town for answers on some sightings of "big, metal men". An absolute mess.

What has been giving me a biting gnash on the back of my mind is how poor ol' Grandpa passed away. Well....the fact he died on a hunting trip isn't what's surprising, it's the fact he was killed so brutally that even his buddies believed that no way a bear could have done it. Robbie (our local mortician, ex-butcher and currently the one braincell helping at City Hall) said that "no bear could just tear up a man like a chainsaw can"....the closed casket funeral was already a disaster.

Call it depression, call it suicide, but I going to the very place he died ...I need to know what happened. Yeah, naive on top of the cliche is definitely going to be on my tombstone. It's been 4 months since his death, will I find anything? Fuck no of course not...but hey, it's productive.

As I'm looking at the river bank, I'm not surprised to see what a shoty job local PD did in clean up the place....there's pieces of his old camouflage jacket. He didn't believe in the modern stuff, so he just used an old jacket he had back in when we enlisted in Vietnam. I glanced over the scene, trying to pieces together what the hell could it have been. Walking around, I'm not too surprised how much of a waste of time this was....at least the scenery was perfect...

At least, it was.

I suddenly realized that the birds has just stopped singing, all I can hear was the sound of my heartbeat. But there was something new, a heavy smell of metal and industrial chemicals? I know theres an illegal logging company around here but no one back at City Hall has been able to fight them for years. That's when I heard movement.

This is when I begin to regret not investing in a hunting rifle, but bow and arrow to the eyeball works just fine. I draw and scan for whatever that smell was coming from ....all I saw something big and metal....but for something to be that big....it was no man.

It was in the thicket of the treeline, glowing...angry eyes, it had spikes just absolutely everywhere, it's dark black body was interrupted but glimmers of bronze or gold....at it was coming right at me.

I couldn't move, I just stood there trying not to shake the fucking arrows out of my quiver, I don't even know what I was even doing from that point on.

It just stomped twords me, it knew I wouldn't be able to do much to it.

But like hell I wouldn't.

I locked up, and shot right it it's eye. Going straight in! It's head leaned back at the arrow sunk through......then...it chuckled....that sickening laughter you give when you know you're about to win...it looked straight back at me, still chuckling....now with my arrow sticking out it's face like a complete moron.

Looks like I'm going to get see grandpa. Hell I would probably get to tell him I found his buddy too.

"... aren't you... just adorable........thank you for your.... little gift", snapping the arrow yet keeping its other half in his eyesocket...."a most cherished gift.....from a weaklings like girl like you...just...like that old bastard....". He was now 10 feet away from me.

He pointed to a set of faded dents in his chest, three shots that only chipped the paint.

Grandpa's last shots

"....at least he went out fighting."...I stepped back and fucking tripped on the rocky bank...great I made it earlier for him.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, glanced at the trail behind me and growled.

That's when I heard the familiar click of a trigger pull, than the loudest gun shot I have ever felt! Closing my eyes, it was like a small rocket had been set off just feet away from me.

All I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears, I felt something warm and wet cover half of my body. Shaking, I slowly opened my eyes, and saw gore.... just where.... sprayed on me, on the rocks .....I looked up....half of that monster was there.....I couldn't take it anymore....and i blacked out.

I woke up in the hospital back home, Nurse Amila (town doctor at this point since the last guy quit) said I was found soaking wet near a sheep farm several miles off the course of Chelhalem Ridge. I told her everything I could remember but of course she told me to just rest so I can collect myself a little later. I was in shock, but I had to tell her. The look on her is what worried me, she.... wasn't surprised.

She did tell me that who ever it was that brought me to safe place, left me in good hands .....a gift?

Nurse Amila points to the hospital nightstand, it didn't look like any of the native tribal artifacts I've studied for....it looked.... Nordic? It was a huge candid tooth.

"Looks like a bear tooth, guess someone finally sees you're worth a look, right Lorey?", she chuckled.

"....I....think it's a wolf tooth", I feel like I'm going insane, first the absolute horror movie scene I've just experienced and now...possibly .... giant unextinct......dire wolves?

What the shit is going on......

End of log 1.

@kit-williams

#space marines #space marine husbandry sentience #survival log #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry

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miss-tc-nova · 8 months

Text

Not a Nap - Silver x Reader

Doing the masquerade has reminded me of Silver's well-meaning ignorance. I love it. Also, I thought this would be funny.

Premise: Silver thinks Reader/Yuu/OC is napping

Words: 839

~~~~~

Pain seeps through my head as the worst headache I’ve had in a long time washes over me. Memories of the causing incident start to flash behind my eyes—nagging at my fellow freshmen and dormmates to keep their things out of the middle of the floor, them making excuses not to help me clean up and dashing to their club activities, me tripping on something of theirs as I cleaned up, and bashing my head on the coffee table as I went down.

Suppressing a soft groan, I press down on the throbbing in vain hopes of relief. Then I get to thinking: the floor is a lot softer than I remember it being. Prying my eyes open reveals not the ceiling of the commons but that of my room painted with the rays of the setting sun.

It takes a few blinks to confirm that this is indeed my room, yet I remember falling in the commons. But maybe I’m wrong. No, I’m pretty sure I was supposed to be in the commons. Well this isn’t good.

Warmth rests beneath my hand. And it moves.

I snap my gaze down to find a young man, peacefully asleep like the dead, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm. Now I’m really confused because I definitely don’t remember him being around before the incident.

I shake him. “Silver. Silver.” Oh, my tongue feels weird.

Surprisingly, those auroral eyes flutter open.

“Hm? Oh, hey,” he hums sleepily. A hand rises to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

It takes him a moment to remember. “Malleus and Lilia asked if you were going to join us for dinner. You were asleep on the floor when I came to ask. You must’ve been tired—didn’t even stir when I brought you to bed.” The young man sits up, a bashful tint painting his nose. “And you just looked so peaceful that I couldn’t help joining you for a bit.”

What he says swirls in my head. Then, with a frown, Silver reaches out to take my shoulder; I hadn’t even realized I was tilting.

“Are you okay?”

“Silver, I wasn’t napping. I hit my head.” It’s like my tongue is getting in the way.

His eyes fly wide open. “Oh!”

Fingers dance through my hair until I flinch away from the spike in pain.

“Oh that’s a pretty large bump. Are you dizzy? Do you feel sick?”

“I don’t know. I hurt,” I drawl.

Silver scoots off the bed. “We better go to the infirmary.”

I’m unaware of whether or not I can carry myself to the infirmary, but I don’t have to think about it for Silver’s sinewed arms lift me from the bed. Out into the twilight he takes me, cool air contrasting the warmth of his body. Leaning against him, I let his steady heartbeat lull me nearly back to slumber, but the bang of his boot to the infirmary door jars me back.

After a brief scolding in regards to his entrance, the school nurse ushers us in to one of the beds. My thoughts are sluggish but I’m able to answer all her questions. The conclusion does turn out to be a mild concussion and, while I should be fine to return home, it’s not recommended I spend the night alone. Regardless, she ventures into the supply closet for a few items to send home with me.

“Perhaps you should stay in Diasomnia tonight,” Silver suggests. When I don’t immediately answer, he back tracks. “Or if you’d prefer to stay in Ramshackle, I could volunteer to keep an eye on you there.”

Seeing his serious concern, I make an attempt at a joke. “I dunno. You might just assume I’m sleeping again if I pass out.”

His worry slips to guilt. “You’re right. It feels like things only get better when you’re around so I never considered the possibility of you getting seriously hurt.” The young man begins to pace. “Even if I didn’t, there’s no guarantee I wouldn’t fall asleep again myself. Maybe I should ask fath—er, I mean Lilia to—”

My first attempt misses, but I do manage to grab Silver’s arm to cease the spiral.

“Woah, woah. I was kidding,” I interrupt. “I’m sure you would take very good care of me.” My stomach decides it’s time to interject. “But could we please stay at Diasomnia? I’m so hungry.”

With a sigh, he lets a gentle smile grace his lips. “Of course. I’ll take care of you as if you were my liege.”

“I don’t think I’m quite at the same level as Malleus.”

“You are to me.”

His response is so quick that it takes me a moment to process it. Each word adds an ember to the collating fire in my ears. Silver’s brow furrows.

“How are you feeling? Do you have a fever?”

Though his hand feels sweetly cool against my forehead, it too adds degrees to my temperature.

"No. I’m feeling better.”

#silver #twst silver #silver x reader #twisted wonderland silver #gender neutral reader

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fortheloveofarchons · 4 months

Text

You're In A Vampire Hunter's Ball, With Some Familiar Members...

C.W. Vampires, vampire hunters, drinking blood, biting, smut, aftercare

Characters included in this fanfic besides Pierro are Childe, Pantalone, Arlecchino, La Signora, Pantalone, Capitano, and a mention of Pulcinella

Full version in the link down below! Happy belated Valentine's Day btw!

In the ballroom where crystal chandeliers and luxurious fabrics are adorned and draped, a palpable tension hung in the air as you concealed yourself among the elegantly attired crowd, hiding in the shadows at the corner. While the couples would waltz in the middle of the ballroom with rhythmic cadence, your eyes blink a bit rapidly as you surveyed the room.

Dressed in an exquisite dark blue gown that shimmered like moonlight, you move carefully, trying to not draw attention to yourself. Your black eye contacts fortunately conceals your vampiric red eyes, yet it did little to mask the hunger that gnawed at your insides. The scent of blood– of pulsating life surrounded you, a tantalising aroma that sent shivers down your spine.

“So hungry…” You mutter the words out.

As the ball is filled with vampire hunters, your heightened senses would often pick up on conversations discussing recent vampire sightings and the latest hunting techniques. Every word sends a chill down your spine, and you clutch the edges of your gown.

Being distracted from hunger, you didn’t realise that a man was walking towards you. Your vision, that stared aimlessly through the ballroom, is interrupted with a crystal goblet, one that contains a familiar aroma. The thirst for blood intensified with each passing moment, threatening to expose your true nature.

Your eyes quickly flicker to find the ginger-haired man with cold blue eyes, handing you the goblet with a smile on his face.

“Hey, didn’t you say you were hungry?” It looks like he didn't take no for an answer, pushing the goblet into your palms. “Come on, don’t tell me you were trying to hold your hunger in a room full of vampire hunters.”

You quickly take the goblet from his hand, compose yourself, and delicately sip the deep red liquid, trying to keep your composure. Any sudden movement or slip of control could spell disaster in the presence of these vampire hunters, after all.

“Thank you.” You hand him the goblet back, your tongue licking your upper lip to remove any traces of blood. “...Wait, you are–”

“You can just call me Childe, or Tartaglia if that’s what you prefer.” Childe smiles at you. “Are you perhaps looking for Lord Pierro?”

You quickly nod. After all, for a man who supposedly invited you into a hunter’s den, you’re surprised to find him gone.

“He actually sent me to find you.” Childe explains, fiddling with the collar of his suit. “He wants you to go into the private lounge room.”

“Are you coming with me, then?” You ask, hoping that he might accompany you even though he’s the eleventh ranking of the vampire hunters. Perhaps it's because he’s close to Pierro that made you feel a bit relieved.

“I’m afraid not.” That made your heart sink. “I have to leave early to catch up with Pulcinella, he has some important matters to discuss with me.”

“Does it have something to do with your fami–” Your lips became thin and firm, shutting yourself up. You have heard stories about his family from Pierro during the nights when you are in bed with him. However, instead of Childe’s eyes being icy cold and his lips pursed with suppressed fury, he lets out a hearty laugh.

“Aha~ It’s okay,” Childe waves dismissively. “I don't really mind talking about my family to anyone! In fact, I enjoyed talking to anyone about them.”

“Oh,” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I see, that’s good then–”

“After all, it’s a fine way to deceive my enemies to think that we’re getting along well, and much closer… until they feel a sharp spike in their hearts, and soon… they can see smoke coming out of them.”

Childe studies you with a crazed look on his face: Icy stare boring into you, the muscles along his jaw clench, his hand holding onto what seems to be a pure silver dagger that hangs around his thigh. All you could do was stand there and freeze yourself to the ground. Were you scared? Yes, but you knew you wouldn’t get hurt considering that Lord Pierro wants you.

Childe then releases his grip on his dagger, rubbing the back of his head with another hearty laughter.

“Just kidding!” He pats you on the back of your shoulder, which makes you shiver from his cold gloves being in contact with your open shoulders. “I gotta go now. Oh– about the room, it’s just right down that red hall.”

Before you could even say a word, Childe runs off, but not before he turns to you and gives you a wave with a smile on his face.

“See ya!”

“I– See you, I guess…”

With a reluctant sigh, you hike up your dress and make your way towards the red hallway. Stopping in front of a large door, you take a deep breath and push the door, walking your way into the room. The room was bathed in a dim, sultry ambiance, with crimson velvet drapes hanging from ornate windows, casting shadows to the lavish furnishing.

As you stepped into the room, you sensed an unusual tension in the air. The low hum of whispered conversations ceased abruptly, replaced by an unsettling stillness as the members turned their attention towards you.

To your surprise, you found yourself surrounded by some familiar members of the Fatui Harbingers, their presence as alluring as it was threatening.

In this room, besides you, lies Lady Signora, Lord Pantalone, and Lord Arlecchino.

On a fancy mahogany sofa, lies Lady Signora. Her long blond hair braided into a neat bun, with some long stands of her hair cascading down to her legs. Her dress consists of a slim wine red gown made of silk organza, along with the blush prints of butterfly patterns appearing on her dress that truly made her look like the queen of crimson butterflies. Her open shoulders, one that is similar to your outfit as well, reveals her plump chest, with some strands of blond hair sitting on them.

“Is this perhaps his… ‘pet’?” She studies you with a critical squint, and that alone immediately makes you want to bury into a hole and die.

“Now, now, Fair Lady.” The man with square-framed glasses replies to her. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be too rude to a guest, that wouldn’t look good on us, hmm?”

La Signora argues with a puff of smoke from her cigarette holder. “The guest is a vampire.”

“And it would ruin the party if we make a bloodshed~” His sultry voice along with the sharp gaze made your body shiver. Lord Pantalone, the man with the black and white fur coat that complements well with his sleek, tailored dark purple suit highlighted both elegance and grace, seems to look at you as a formidable adversary, but also something… magnetic.

“Come,” He pats the sofa, gesturing to you to come over. “Sit next to me, miss.”

Although this feels like a carefully laid trap, what choice do you have. In front of you, all of their eyes bore into you, each glance carrying a mix of suspicion and readiness. Attempting to maintain an air of regal indifference, you square your shoulders and take a measured step forward, and sit next to Lord Pantalone.

And just right next to Lord Arlecchino, who has been silent this whole time. Her long sleeveless gown that draped gently over her lithe frame, exuding an aura of a graceful figure. The fabric of her gown flowed like liquid silk, while the absence of sleeves accentuated the graceful lines of her tainted blackened arms from the works of a delusion. You couldn’t help but take a peek at her arms, and that made Lord Arlecchino’s eyes linger on your face, memorising every detail.

“As a guest, it is impolite to stare and not greet someone.” Lord Arlecchino folds her arms , her gaze hardened, the spark of aversion flickering within it. “Has Jester not taught you anything when it comes to manners?”

You sit upright in your position, being too overwhelmed to move. “I– I’m sorry, Lord Arlecchino.”

You then gently take her hand, greeting it with a gentle kiss.

“It is an honour to meet you, and to be in your presence.”

You turn around, doing the same for Lord Pantalone, kissing his hand that was covered with a leather glove. “Lord Pantalone, it is an honour to meet a distinguished harbinger, and to be in your presence.”

“Ahem.” A familiar voice calls out across the room, as Lady Signora holds out her hand, slightly tilting her head. You are about to bend down, but then you remember that La Signora holds the title of a ‘Lady’, not a ‘Lord’.

“Wait a minute…”

Though Lady Signora was trying to hide it, the corners of her mouth were twitching upwards. “You really are… a foolish little vampire pet. I see why the Jester has chosen you in his inner circle.”

You let out a crimson blush from embarrassment.

Just then, the heavy door opens, revealing the silhouette of a weary figure. As Lord Il Capitano steps into the room, a hush falls over its occupants, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of blood.

“Goodness, Captain.” Signora pinches her nose. “Were you seriously killing vampires out there while a party was taking place?”

Killing… vampires? Your lips slightly part in silent terror, taking a glance up at him..

His silver armour, dented and stained with the remnants of battle, clanks softly with each step. His claymore, still gripped firmly in his hand, gleams dully in the dim light, its edge tinged crimson with the lifeblood of his fallen foes.

You couldn’t help but recoil in horror, your hands trembling in fear.

Especially when Lord Il Capitano is coming towards you.

With a low growl, you instinctively back away from him, your fangs baring in a silent snarl of defiance. Despite the amount of killings from the Captain, you recognize him as someone whose strength and power-hungry determination posed a grave threat to your kind.

He takes a few steps forward, with each stride, Capitano’s expression remained stoic, his features masked by the shadow of his helmet.

But just as it seemed that Capitano would unleash a blow upon you, he abruptly halted, his hand still hovering over the hilt of his claymore. Slowly, deliberately, Capitano lowers his hand.

"I could just end you with a single blow," He spoke, his voice low and gruff, yet tinged with a note of compassion. "But I choose not to."

You blink your eyes in surprise, your fear momentarily forgotten as you gaze up at the Captain in wonderment.

“You are under the Jester’s hands, after all.”

Ah… The gears in your mind click.

Your legs become soft like jelly, slumping onto the ground. Your heart slowly gains back a rhythmic beat, as you breathe heavily from the adrenaline of fear.

A sigh escapes from Capitano’s lips, seeing a fearful vampire in front of him. After all, as one whose title is called, ‘Captain’, fighting with someone whose strength is of the same level as him is much worthier to fight than someone like you.

He then bends down with one knee, extending a hand to you. “May I?”

Despite the fear in your heart, your shaky hand reaches out, holding onto the cold steel of his hand.

Even as a ruthless member, he’s still quite chivalrous... You mumble in your mind.

Capitano then pulls you up, his other hand holding onto your back, making your body shiver despite the barrier between your skin and his other hand is merely a fabric of your gown. You stand rigid with terror, being too overwhelmed to move.

“My, my~” Lord Pantalone locks his hands together, raising an eyebrow. “Being so forward, aren’t you, dear Captain ? If Jester were to see this, surely he would–”

Just then, you could hear heavy footsteps, and all eyes turn towards the entrance, drawn by the magnetic presence of the man with a towering figure.

Dressed in a black and dark blue tailored suit with intricate snowflakes on the corners of his suit, it hugs his muscular frame in all the right places. The fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and chiselled physique. With a wide twilight blue pelerine cape, it infused him with a quiet strength, showing a testament to his power and poise.

Seeing Pierro in that attire ignites a flush of warmth that spreads through your cheeks...

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fairy-writes · 1 year

Note

Hey☆ Sorry for not providing more information. Next time I will be more detailed.♡ I meant twins vaccinated only in the head.☆ And thank you for your response.♡

CONJOINED

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Rengoku Kyojuro x Female!Reader

Himejima Gyomei x Female!Reader

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Female!Reader

Notes: This turned more into, like… first-meeting headcanons. I hope that’s okay!

I also took some liberties with the photo in regard to what the conjoined second head can (or, in this case, can’t do. The head doesn’t do much of anything in this.) do, so I hope you like it!

Request: Could I have some headcanons on how Gyomei, Sanemi, and Kyojuro would react to a fem s/o who has a conjoined twin brother?

__________________________________________________________________________

You lived a life of a loner. Well… save for your brother.

So you supposed it was more of a nomadic lifestyle.

You usually had a cloak to hide your face(s), but in this case, a child had ripped it off. It was an accident, but the screams that filled your ears hurt your heart nonetheless.

You were physically thrown out soon after.

The dirt and rocks scrape the skin off of your hands and knees, tearing your cotton yukata. It was ripped and dirty, one of the downsides of living the life you did.

But your parents cast you out, as did anyone who saw your face.

Or in this case, you supposed it was faces.

Rengoku Kyojuro x Female!Reader

When you first meet Rengoku Kyojuro, you had just been cast out of the village you had been passing through.

“Hello, stranger!” Came a booming voice, and you flinched, hurriedly bringing your hood up to hide your face, and you wrapped your scarf around your head to hide your brother’s face.

A body crouched in front of you, hand extended to help you up.

Brown uniform, a white haori with flame patterns near the hem, and a katana slid through the belt.

Looking up, you came face to face with wild red and yellow hair and matching eyes boring into yours. However, they weren’t filled with disgust as everyone’s eyes typically were. Instead, they were filled with… kindness?

“My name is Rengoku Kyojuro! What might your name be?” He exclaims, and you bite your lip but find yourself taking his hand.

He pulls you to your feet easily, not showing any care in the world about your scarf and hood.

You mumble your name, and he grins, saying it back to you.

And the rest is history.

Himejima Gyomei x Female!Reader

The blind man was the only one to treat you with kindness.

You had been traveling with him for three days, speaking in quiet tones for fear he would somehow be able to tell you were a monster.

He had saved your life, crushing the head of the demon who had nearly eaten you.

It had been so easy for him… It made you wonder what he would do to you if he found out what you really were.

On the fourth day, he asked you the question you feared most.

“What do you look like?” He asks, and you freeze, nearly tripping over a stray root before he catches your arm quickly and pulls you to your feet before you hit the ground.

His massive hands are gentle though rough from handling his spiked flail and axe with the long chain connecting it.

“Why do you want to know?” You say bitterly, and he stops, looking down with blind eyes.

“Because I would like to know the appearance of my friend.” He says simply, and you blink. Friend? He considers you a friend?

You had never had a friend before. Not with your looks and faces.

So you let him do something no one ever has.

You let him touch your face.

“You are beautiful.” He whispers, fingers tracing your features and his hands cradling both your faces.

He catches your tears as you begin to cry.

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Female!Reader

Shinazugawa Sanemi is perhaps the rudest person you have ever met.

Sure, he had saved your life from a vicious demon, but almost immediately after, he had left.

He hadn’t even checked to make sure you were okay.

So you followed him. Though looking back on it, you weren’t sure why. He would just think you are a monster like everyone else.

It took two days before he blew up at you.

“What do you want with me?!” He shouts.

Luckily, you are in the middle of a forest, following his crow to the next mission, so no one can watch the encounter.

“I want to thank you.” You say, and he throws a hand up,

“There! You thanked me! You’re welcome!” He snaps and turns, broad shoulders moving the foliage as he pushes through a particularly stubborn bit of trees before pulling out his katana and slicing it away.

The wind blows your hood and scarf from your face. You scream and try to catch them, but it’s pointless as they blow away into the sky.

At the noise, Sanemi turns around, and you scream again.

“Don’t look at me! I’m a monster!” You cry out, hunching onto your knees so he doesn’t see your face.

But it’s too late. He’s seen your face, judging by the shocked look on his face.

However, instead of slicing your head off with the cry, “So you’re a demon!” he kneels down and grabs your hand, gently prying it away from your faces.

“You aren’t a monster.” He says genuinely, catching you off guard with his soft tone and sad eyes.

What had the world done to this poor man?

He continues, “You aren’t a monster. You’re a human. Just like me.”

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #himejima gyomei x reader #gyomei himejima x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #gyomei x reader #himejima x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #fairy writes

107 notes · View notes

therosebunpost · 7 months

Text

So, I woke up this morning with inspiration-

Some warnings: Suggestive bits, Robin is married to a guy named Chad ( not for real though, I just wanted something ridiculous to really snap Steve out of lala land) Stancy but not for long, MDI! Seriously if you don't have an age in your bio or on your blog, I will block you!

Basically it all starts with Steve opening his eyes. He's in that strange state where he's not quite awake, but not asleep either. The house isn't exactly like his, but it also has a few familiar things. The duck theming, the multiple garages, his blue room. There's someone laying beside him, their back turned away. Curly brown hair tickles his nose and he slowly shifts closer to nuzzle into it.

"Steve?"

A hand reaches back, the cool touch of a ring caresses his face and he almost purrs. Nuzzling deeper into the softness while his arms move to wrap around their familiar middle.

"Mornin' Nancy."

She turns around, smiling up at him and tucking some hair away from her face. Her wedding ring shining in the light of the morning. "Morning, love. Come on, let me get some breakfast started before you head to work."

He's still a little dazed as he follows her down the stairs of his home, their home. Nancy is dressed, her hair prim and proper as she starts on some eggs and bacon. She’s a vision, and Steve can’t help but watch her for a second, leaning his head against the wooden door frame. “What time do you head out?” He asks, looking around for her latest article or piece she’s been working on.

“Oh, not today. Already got everything the day before, so I’m just staying home.” She smiles, passing him a tall glass of orange juice. “Though, is there something you want me to pick up at the store for you? I thought I got everything on the list, but I can go again.” Placing down a plate of eggs, she kisses the top of his head and settles down across from him.

“Really? Damn, I hope the paper doesn’t call you in on your day off.” He muses, grabbing a thing of toast and bitting into it.

“Paper? Steve, are you…okay? I haven’t worked at the paper since we got married a year ago.”

Steve blinks, looking up at her. He blinks again, trying to understand where that assumption even came from. “Right, I uh..I’m sorry. I woke up kinda strange this morning.”

“Well, hopefully it clears up during your ride to work. Oh! Here, I packed your lunch and remember to come home on time for dinner, okay? I’m making your favorite and we have guests coming over~” She leans down to kiss his cheek before suddenly he was in the car. His hands on the steering wheel, lunch safely buckled in the side seat.

Rubbing at his temple, Steve slowly drives down the road towards his father’s business. Well, not before stopping abruptly.

There’s a man standing there, in the middle of the road. Messy brown curls rest upon his shoulders, chains glittered in the light, and he was staring at him.

Oh great, of course this happens today.

Steve honks his horn before leaning out the window. “Hey man, look can you move? I’m trying to get to work.”

The guy doesn’t move. “Where do you work?”

“….My dad’s company, you know, Harrington’s?”

“Jesus, really? You seriously picked that?”

Steve narrows his eyes, frowning and honking the horn again. “Seriously, now move okay? I don’t have time for this.”

“You’re already starting to sound like a grumpy old business man. But yeah, your right, you don’t have time, Steve.” The guy finally moves, but he starts coming around to the drivers side. Something glints in his hand and Steve’s heart rate spikes. He ducks into the car, rolls the window up and speeds down the road while the guy flails away to avoid the dust kicking up. Steve watches him stomp the ground in anger through his rear view mirror. “What a freak.”

Work seemed to start and end the second he stepped into the building. He remembers walking through the revolving door and then walking out, the sky a dusty orange instead of blue. He steps out to his car, only to tense when that familiar mop of brown curls greet him. “Get off the hood before I call the police.” He threatens, glaring as the man lounges upon his beemer’s hood like he fucking owns it. “I don’t know what you want from me, man, but you need to leave me the hell alone.”

“Why? Don’t wanna talk?” He counters, not moving. Instead he seems to relax even more, legs widening as he gazes up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “Last time I was like this, you didn’t seem to mind. Like at all.”

Steve swallows thickly, heat creeping up his neck as he looks over the man on his car. Last time? There was a tingle of a memory at the edge of his mind. The buzz of cicadas, curls wrapped up on his fist as he pressed closer to him, heat blooming inside of his chest as they got closer.

He blinks and the memory recedes away, like it was snatched right from his head. “I don’t- I’m married.” He holds up his finger and the man pauses, was that…sorrow in his eyes? It’s gone as soon as it was there, instead replaced with steely determination. “Steve, you need to wake up.”

“What?”

“This…this isn’t real, okay? None of this is real.” Suddenly the man is gripping his arms, almost hard enough to bruise. “It’s some fucked up dream, but it’s not yours. I mean, Jesus man, what a way for him to waste all that time you took figuring out who you were, huh?”

“I’m…I’m Steve, Steve Harrington and who…who the fuck even are you?” Steve pushes him off, pinning him against his car. “What kinda drugs are you on? You need a hospital, dude. I can take you to one, but you need to empty out whatever knife you had in your pocket.”

“Knife?” The man asks, slowly shaking his head. He isn’t even resisting, Steve notes. “It wasn’t- Steve, I know the bottle thing happened but I wasn’t exactly in the best headspace and I’d never hurt you-“

“Stop acting like we know each other! Who are you? Tell me.” Steve shakes him and that’s when the man grips at his wrists, though it was more tender then frightened. “Eddie, my name is Eddie Munson. We do know each other. Really, really well.” Eddie looks up at him, pleading. “Steve, you gotta wake up. Please, we don’t have much time.”

It was all too much. Steve pulls away, shoving Eddie in the process away from his car. “You need to leave.” He points off in the distance. “I dunno what kind of…make believe you’re living in, but I’m married and now I’m gonna go see my wife.” He slips into the car, trying to ignore those sad eyes watching him as he drove back home, shaking.

The rich scent of chicken greets him when he steps inside. Shaking away the events in the parking lot, Steve wraps his arms around Nancy in the kitchen. “I’m home. Smells good.” He murmurs, kissing her cheek. Nancy giggles, batting him away. “Steve! I’m trying to cook! Can you help set the table? Everyone should be here soon.”

As he sets the table, Steve hums a little to himself. Some oldies tune he heard on the way home. “Dream a little dream of me..” He mumbles, swaying to himself as he imagines him dancing with his love. Though did they have blue eyes or brown? Were they in his parents house or a homey trailer, a mug collection slowly being rebuilt in the living room?

“Steve!”

Blinking, Steve jumps back away from the broken pieces at his feet. Something old from his mother’s cabinet, not a mug. “Shit-“ He bends down, gathering it in his hands even if he might get cut. “Are you okay?” Nancy asks, coming closer and crouching down in front of him. Her face twisting at the sight of a cut on his hand. “Oh- ow.” She winces, reaching out to hold it in her hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse, remember?” Steve offers, chuckling softly but his expression freezes as Nancy furrows her brows. “What?”

The doorbell rings and they scramble to cone out from beneath the table. “Oh, Dingus, come on-“ Robin comments, rolling her eyes as she pulls a young man behind her. “See? You owe me fifty bucks, I told you they’d be kissing when we got here.” She teases, shaking her head and walking around to look at the glass. “Oh shit- Your mom’s gonna kill you, dude.”

He brightens upon seeing Robin, though he starts to frown when the young man with her curls an arm around her waist. “Hey man, what- What are you doing?”

The guy has the audacity to laugh, pulling Robin close and kissing her cheek. “What, you can kiss your wife under the table and I can’t kiss mine on the cheek?”

What.

Steve looks at Robin, who just smiles up at him as if there wasn’t anything wrong. As if this situation wasn’t utterly ridiculous. “Oh…okay Rob, that’s funny but come on, you can’t think I’m that gullible.”

“Steve?” Nancy comes around, holding his arm. “What’s wrong?”

Steve looks at her, hoping to catch any semblance of being in on some joke, but all he saw was concern in those ice blue eyes. “Well yeah, I mean, Robin’s-“ He stops himself, not wanting to out his friend like that. “Not one to settle down? Yeah, that’s what I thought before I met Chad.” Robin coos, curling into him. Steve has to hold back an incredulous laugh, though really he could feel a pressure behind his eyes.

“Look whatever- Whatever joke you think this is, it’s not funny. You three, that weird guy in the parking lot-“ He’s backing away now, eyes glancing at everyone he knew. Though now they were more like strangers then anything else. “Robin, come on, I’m having a weird fucking day and this is really freaking me out-“

“Steve, dude, your freaking me out.” Robin comes closer, only to jump when he grabs her hand and pulls her into the living room. “Steve! What the fuck is wrong-“

“Is that guy threatening you?” He asks, voice low and deadly serious. “Is that why you won’t tell me? I swear to god, I’ll beat the shit out of him so hard, he’ll never set foot near you ever again-“

“Steve.” Robin hisses, grabbing at his arm. “You’re scaring me, I thought you liked Chad?”

“Who cares about Chad! Fuck Chad. What about you? What about Vicky? You know, the girl you’ve been hopelessly pining over for literally so long?”

Robin blinks, slowly pulling away from him. “Look, when you invited me over, I thought you wanted to tell me you and Nancy are finally starting your family. I don’t even know what…all of this is.” She gestured to him. “So, I’m going back into the dining room to help your wife and my husband set the table. Come back in when you’re not a total mess, okay?”

Steve stands there, alone. His head is pounding and wonders if another migraine is coming on. He can hear their hushed voices in the dining room, and it’s in that moment, he knows he can go in there. That whoever these people were, they aren’t his family.

So he runs. He slips out the back door, jogging through the woods even though he can hear their worried cries behind him. Sure, he should take his car, but he left his key back at the house. Thank god he did though, thank fuck he didn’t drive because then he wouldn’t have stumbled upon the sprawled out body of Eddie Munson against a tree. Blood slipping out of his mouth.

“Oh, fuck-“ He runs closer, kneeling down beside him. “Eddie? What- What the fuck happened?”

The man coughs, lightly shaking his head. “Was…tryin’ to come find you again. Then…he attacked me. God, those vines hurt like a bitch..” He leans back against the tree, allowing the moonlight to show off the jab into his side.

“…You were right.” Steve offers, pulling off his work shirt and wrapping ripped strips around his bleeding middle. “Nancy’s acting weird, Robin married a guy named Chad-“

Eddie’s face twists. “Seriously? Oh, she’s going to murder him when I tell her. Though, figures some crazy killer from the 50s is also a homophobic piece of shit.” He groans as Steve lifts him, his head lulling to the side to rest against his shoulder. “When it was you, I just thought he was tryin’ to cut me out of the picture, but I guess the guy is just shitty.”

“But why? Why cut you out? Are we…really?” Steve starts walking, but he isn’t sure where he’s going. All he knows is that he needs to keep Eddie safe and to stay away from that house as much as possible.

“Yeah, Sunshine. Been together ever since ‘87. It was supposed to be our anniversary…” Eddie sighs, tucking his face against Steve’s neck. “But then he just had to pop out of the ground like the worlds worst Ground Hog, and fuck everything up. I had such a great gift too, was gonna take you on a round trip to all the famous baseball stadiums.”

Steve pauses, cheeks dusting with pink before he starts walking again. “…That sounds great but I still don’t really…get any of this.”

Eddie sighs, curling up more in his arms as they travel aimlessly through the forest. “….It all started in 1986, and Vecna finally decided to show himself..”

——————-

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie stranger things #I dunno what this is exactly #I woke up thinking about Don’t Worry Darling #then I was accosted by visions of this scenario playing out #it’s not beta’d or anything #but I thought it’d be an interesting concept #sorry for the Chad slander

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kenzumekodma · 9 months

Text

18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

pairing: kotaro bokuto x fem!reader

wc: 1216

warnings: hickies, semi-public sex, bokuto calls you ‘sweetheart’, bokuto picks you up and puts you on the counter (he’s big and strong and finds it easy no matter what size you are), oral sex (fem receiving), semi-clothed sex

find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here!

You walk into the MSBY practice gym, scarf huddled close to your neck even though the bite of autumn air hasn’t quite set in yet. The team would notice sooner or later, but this’ll buy you a little time. Bruises litter the soft skin of your neck, badly covered by your rush job concealer from when you noticed them on your way out the door. You’re lost in your own world, fretting about something that really shouldn’t be a big deal. We’re not teenagers anymore, no one will care, you try to convince yourself when a voice pierces through your bubble.

“Ooooo y/n’s got a boyfriend!” Atsumu Miya announces in a sing-songy voice.

“‘Tsumu!” you yelp. The blond man tugs at your scarf and it falls to the gym floor.

“Hey, she might not be ready to talk about him yet! It must be a new thing. You haven’t spoken about him before, have you?” Shoyo Hinata chimes in.

“No, no. It’s, uh, it’s nothing,” you say resolutely. Your eyes flicker across the court, assessing the reaction of one player in particular, but you can’t read him. Bokuto looks as jovial as ever.

“Gentlemen, back to practice. You can gawk at the staff later,” shouts the coach. The players jog in unison back to their positions.

As practice plays on, you find yourself scanning Bokuto’s form. For statistics, sure, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little self indulgent, does it? The way his bicep flexes as he winds up to spike the ball, to the surge that runs through his thigh muscles as he lands from his jump, to the way he catches your eye and smirks ever so discreetly at you to let you know he knows you’re looking at him, that he knows you’re thinking about him. It sends a rush of blood to your cheeks and you squirm in your seat.

“Ugh, I know, the benches are so uncomfortable,” says another MSBY team staffer.

“Y-yeah, yeah, they are,” you mumble. Time passes in a snap with your distraction, and before you know it, the team and staff are walking out together and saying their goodbyes.

“Hey, y/n! Over here!” Bokuto’s voice rings from over by the change rooms. Without a thought, you follow his sound.

“What’s the matter?”

“Why’d you cover them up?” he pouts.

“What, the hickies? Because I’m a grown woman, Ko, it looks unprofessional to have them out in the open,” you sigh, your attempted confidence in them deflating.

“But I worked so hard to put them there!”

“Sorry, Ko,” you rest your hand on his shoulder. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently.

“What if I put them somewhere else, then? Somewhere ‘Tsumu and Hinata won’t ever see?”

“Where do you mean?”

“Come with me, y/n”, he says quietly. Within moments you’re in the MSBY locker room and Bokuto has you sitting on the counter by the sink. “Lean back on your arms for me, sweetheart,” he coos, and you obediently follow his directions. He slides his fingers under the waistband of your leggings and shimmies them down, over the curve of your ass and your hips, down your thighs, past your knees, until they’re on the floor beside him.

Bokuto lines a trail of kisses from your knee to the flesh of your inner thigh. He lets out a soft moan. “I like it when you watch me in practice,” he murmurs. “Look at me now, too,” he insists. It’s not like you couldn’t comply. All he has to do is ask you in that honey-sweet voice of his and you’re putty in his hands. You stifle a whimper as his teeth sink into your skin. Not hard enough to break it or draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. He sucks the flesh caught between his teeth, roving his tongue over it back and forth until he hears your groan, to which he hums in delight. He makes his way back and forth between your thighs until seven or eight bruises pepper your inner thighs to match your neck.

“O-okay, Ko, you’ve proven your point,” you whine, guiding him up to your level by his hair. You capture his lips in a deep kiss, letting him feel everything you’ve pent up since your last night together. “Let me put my pants back on before we get caught.”

“‘M not done with you yet,” Bokuto says resolutely. And you know that once he’s made up his mind, he’s not easily swayed. His fingers trace nonsensical patterns across the marks he’s just made until they come to rest on your apex, still covered by the thin lace of your panties.

He gives you a quick peck, devilish grin barely forming in time to be hidden by your cunt. Once again, he kisses you, this time an open mouthed kiss to your covered pussy. Lazy tongue circles have you realizing just how turned on he has you. You squirm, desperate for more friction but finding little as you slip and slide against yourself. Bokuto chuckles against your body, biting down just enough for you to feel the pressure against your clit.

“P-please, lemme feel you, Ko,” you whine. “‘S not enough!”

Wordlessly, he obliges. You shudder as he licks and sucks your bud in earnest now, your panties hooked around his finger and pulled to the side. With his other hand, he slowly teases your opening with one finger, inserting it with an excruciatingly leisurely pace. You can’t help yourself from thrusting yourself forward, unable to form the words to beg him for what you want. He understands, though, and slides a second finger in, curling them and a steady pace. His gaze flicks up to you and he smiles, tongue never stopping, as he sees the sheen of sweat glaze your forehead and your cheeks flushed dark. He thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you, but he’ll have to remember to tell you that later instead. Your eyes roll back and your features scrunch together, he knows that look well. He knows you’re close. He can’t stop now.

“P-please Ko, don’t, don’t stop, keep going, please please please,” you whimper for him like it’s a prayer. “K-Ko, ‘m so close, so close,” your voice trails off. He knows, he can feel you clenching around his fingers.

You feel the taut string of desire tensed in your core snap and you cry out for him again and again. He places a soft kiss between your legs before gently guiding your panties back in place. You’ve barely registered that your legs are shaking when he stands up and holds you close to him, but you can feel his cock straining in his shorts being pressed up against you.

“Why don’t you take a little while to rest? I’ll take you home and take care of you properly,” he promises.

You nod, in a dreamy daze. Bokuto helps you back into your clothing. Before leaving the gym building, he gives you one last kiss on the forehead, for good luck. For him, for you, he’s not sure, but he wants it just in case. You smile at him as you take him by the hand and lead him outside.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #msby x reader #msby x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #👻.2023 #kinktober 2023 #haikyuu smut #hq smut #bokuto smut #msby smut #haikyuu x reader smut #hq x reader smut #msby x reader smut #bokuto x reader smut #👻.kinktober

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seraphfighter · 5 months

Note

Hey! 3 for the OTP prompts! ❤️❤️❤️

3. Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment.

Listen, I do not know how this turned into a 1.6k-word piece, but it did. For some context, this is set in my modern au, because in the canon au Val would simply not put up with this, the badass merc that she is. (and you can blame @glitchinginthegarden for the idea)

To anyone reading, be advised: This fic has references to past abuse and features a man being creepy and scummy in general.

The night air feels refreshing after being in the stuffy bar all night.

V retreats to the entrance of the alleyway next to the bar's main doors. Leaning back against the brick wall, she pulls out her pack of cigarettes and places one between her lips to light it. She takes a deep drag and exhales, the smoke billowing out in front of her. God, she’s worn out. Nights with Judy are fun but she can only handle being crowded against a bunch of drunk people for so long. It’s not her scene.

Checking the time, V pulls her phone out of her pocket. 10:03 PM. Johnny should be here soon. He’d agreed to pick her up coming back from a late night at the studio. Shockingly, he didn’t whine about her lack of a car this time. Probably because she’s sleeping over at his place. She’d been planning on it anyway and she wasn’t going to hop on her bike after a couple of drinks, even though she doesn’t feel the effects of the alcohol.

She occupies her time by scrolling through her feed on her phone while she smokes. Hearing footsteps to her right, she doesn’t think anything of it until a deep voice asks, “Got a spare cig?”

V glances up at the man coming to a stop by her side. Already, she’s annoyed. She has no interest in talking to a random stranger. Hoping he’ll take the cigarette and leave her alone, she pulls out her pack and passes him one. “Thanks,” the man says, mustering what appears to be his best attempt at a charming grin as he uses his own lighter to light it.

She doesn’t respond and returns her attention to her phone. But as her luck has it, the man doesn’t leave and keeps speaking, “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Fuck, she knows where he’s going with this. “Not interested,” she responds flatly, not bothering to look up from her phone.

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I’m just saying a pretty woman shouldn’t be out here by yourself like this.” Out of her peripherals, she sees him move a step closer. She moves a step back.

Unease begins to curl in her gut. She shuts her phone’s screen off but keeps it in her hand with a tight grip as she turns her attention to the man. “I said, I’m not interested.”

The man blatantly drags his eyes over her body and she fights back a shudder. A picture of false innocence, he tilts his head. “I’m just trying to be friendly here. Night City’s dangerous you know, it’s not safe for a woman as beautiful as you to be here alone. Something bad could happen.”

God, you can’t be a woman and go anywhere without being harassed anymore. V throws her cigarette down on the ground and uses her boot to smother it with more force than necessary. “I can handle myself, thanks.” She’ll just wait inside the bar for Johnny. Hoping that this will be the end of the conversation, V moves to step past him, but the man is faster, blocking her path. He approaches her and it’s not until she backs up that realizes he’s got her cornered against the wall.

Her heart leaps into her throat. Fuck, fuck. She glances to the side to see if there’s anyone within sight, but they’re alone.

“Let me at least walk you inside, then. I’ll buy you a drink.” When he speaks, she can smell the bourbon on his breath. Markus. Backed into the corner of their room. Her palms are clammy.

She feels like she’s going to be sick.

“What? So you can spike it? Fuck off.” She tries to move past him but again, he blocks her.

The man’s not that much taller than her but she feels small beneath his stare. “Where are you going? We’re just having a friendly conversation.” He flicks the last of his cigarette to the side and braces his hand against the wall above her.

She could knee him in the balls and make a run for it. V’s fast and the man is clearly drunk. It’d be easy to outrun him, right? Why doesn’t she have her pocket knife on her? She should know better than to not carry it.

“Choom, back the fuck off right now.” She’s proud of how steady her voice sounds.

“Or what?”

The screech of tires against the asphalt of the parking lot echoes down the alleyway. Before she can process it, the man is being hauled back and away from her. The man stumbles away and then Johnny’s in front of her, his back to her. With a hard shove, he has the offending man crashing into the opposite wall. Johnny spares a glance at her, his face contorted in an anger she’s not used to seeing on him, before he advances on the man.

“The fuck did you think you were doin’, huh? She told you to back the fuck off!” His voice is a loud angry growl, akin to some of his vocals in his songs.

The man holds his hands up. He looks terrified, the confidence he was exuding with her long gone. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it man!”

“Cut the bullshit!” Johnny barks. “Didn’t mean anythin’ by it? So you think it’s okay to harass my girl when she tells you to back the fuck off?!”

V hates how hearing Johnny refer to her as his girl makes her feel all fuzzy inside, even in this situation.

“I didn’t know! She didn’t say she had a boyfriend!”

Pathetic. This man is pathetic. V steps forward but still keeps herself behind Johnny. “ It doesn’t matter, I told you I wasn’t interested. It’s the same fucking principal,” she snaps.

Johnny’s fists clench down at his sides. “Well? You aren’t fuckin’ deaf! You still think it’s okay? I should teach you a lesson right now, you piece of shit. Maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull to leave women alone.”

“I’m sorry!” The man almost looks close to tears.

In the parking lot and near the entrance to the alleyway, people are starting to gather. Their yelling is drawing a crowd. V sees more than a few phones with the cameras facing them. They need to get out of her before Johnny’s recognized.

V grasps his hand, forcing his fist to unclench so she can weave her fingers through his. She doesn’t know if it’s his hand trembling or hers. Johnny looks over at her and beneath the anger, she can see concern for her.

“Johnny, he’s not worth it.” Subtly, she flicks her eyes over to the crowd gathering and he turns his head to glance. She keeps her voice pitched low, “We need to get out of here.”

Oblivious, the man keeps babbling. “I won’t do it again, I promise!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Johnny snarls at him.

“Johnny.” She tugs on his hand, more insistent this time. “Let’s go.”

He wants to fight her on it, she can tell, but ultimately he steps back. He turns to leave but not before growling to the man, “Get out of here. I better not see your fuckin’ face again or I’ll bash your skull in.”

Hearing a few murmurs of Johnny’s name, V keeps her head low and turned away as they retreat from the alley, still not used to the public attention. Johnny, as usual, is unbothered. He keeps his head held straight and high as they make the short walk to the Porsche. As soon as they're sat inside, he peels out of the parking lot, gripping her hand tightly where it rests on the center console.

The farther they get from the bar, the more adrenaline V feels fade out of her body. The glass of the window is cool against her forehead as she rests against it. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing until her heart rate slows and there’s no longer bile climbing up her throat.

She doesn’t notice Johnny pulling over until they're stopped along the side of an unbusy street. Lifting her head from the window, she turns to ask Johnny what he’s doing, but he doesn’t give her a chance before his free hand cradles the side of her face and his lips are on hers. V exhales through her nose and melts into it, languidly kissing him until he pulls away. His eyes dart over her face.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks quietly and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah.” When her voice comes out shaky, she clears her throat and tries again, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up is all.” She tightens her grip on his hand as she pauses for a moment, gnawing on the inside of her lip. She debates on continuing. “Memories and all that, y’know.”

Understanding fills Johnny’s features. “Shoulda let me beat the fucker up,” he mutters darkly. “Teach him a lesson.”

“The last thing we need right now is you getting a criminal offense. You know that.” She smiles wryly. “The media would have a hay day with it, though.”

He scoffs, “The media’s published worst things about me. Still doesn’t make it right, what he did. What either of them did.”

She blinks past the threat of tears. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she breathes in the familiar smell of tobacco and cyprus. “I know.” Johnny pets the back of her head, toying with her hair and if he notices a few tears soak into the fabric of his jacket, he doesn’t say anything. “Can we just go home, get some greasy takeout, drink too much, and watch a shitty movie?”

Home. She doesn’t even care she called his place that. In her heart, it is home.

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Course we can, Val.”

#my writing #ship: bleed into me #camera shop au #ch: valerie ramirez #silverv #johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #tw: abuse

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blackjackkent · 1 month

Text

OK. So I think Rakha's finished with everything in the mountain pass area, having shattered Lae'zel's faith, obliterated a priceless piece of Lathandran architecture, made an enemy of the entire gith race, inadvertently set Gale on a suicide mission, and adopted an owlbear.

The really funny thing is that almost none of this chaos can be blamed particularly on her murder urge brain. (Except the monastery I guess.)

The overall plan is to head for the Underdark next but we do have some things to clean up in the initial map first - particularly killing the Paladins of Tyr for Karlach. This has been high on Rakha's to-do list right from the moment she heard about it, because Karlach said, "hey, want to kill some people for me?" and Rakha was like "Boy, do I!" (Except she's Rakha so she just said "Yes" in a grumbly sort of way.)

So we'll do that first!

Karlach and Lae'zel have a banter as we make our way up the hill covered in dead gnolls, towards the building that the Paladins are using for their headquarters:

This banter definitely carries a different ring when they're traveling with Rakha. Both of them are definitely commenting on this while side-eyeing Rakha and trying to gauge if she's about to go off the deep end because of the blood smell.

She isn't, but she definitely does smell it and it's definitely got the beast urge in her head keyed up. For the moment, though, she's satisfied with the anticipation of killing these people who have been chasing Karlach.

I seem to recall that with Hector, I did a weird sneaky thing coming in from a top floor window of this building. Rakha, however, stalks right in through the front door like she owns the place. Immediately, they're greeted by a man in chainmail bearing a greatsword and a haggard expression:

"Please - no more!" he cries, his eyes widening dramatically as he looks past Rakha to Karlach standing behind her. "Leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind!"

Karlach rolls her eyes. "Cut the crap, Anders," she snaps disdainfully. "I know what you are."

The man swallows nervously. "Don't let her hurt us. Please - we just want to go home!"

Rakha is already halfway to bursting out in violence and was before she came in the door. It's only Wyll's presence at her elbow that makes her take even a moment to consider the possibility of these people's innocence.

[INSIGHT] Assess his posture, his eyes. Is he telling the truth?

Narrator: There's something in the squint of his eye. You suspect he's lying.

"Enough of this charade," she says flatly. With a smooth motion she pulls both quarterstaves from her back. "I know who you really are."

The man flinches, his eyes narrowing. Then he smirks disdainfully. "Enough. Enough - I'll not play pretend anymore. Karlach... you're going home in pieces if needs must. And you--" He flicks his eyes to Rakha, looking her over, then spits on the ground at her feet. "You'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage."

Rakha's jaw sets and the beast flares eagerly in her head. Kill. Make him pay. He would tear us apart. Show him pain. Show him death.

And it is not just the beast, either. As when Mizora invaded their camp - this is her own anger as well, roused on Karlach's behalf. Karlach is one of them, one of the only people Rakha has reason to know or trust. This man threatens her. And Rakha, not just the beast urge within her, wants him dead.

She feels the temperature around her spike up a few degrees. Karlach has stepped forward next to her, and the low hum of her engine heart has escalated to an unsettling, angry whir. Her eyes are narrowed in a mixture of rage and fear that Rakha has never seen in her expression before.

"Avernus was never my home," she snarls. "It was my prison. I'm free now."

Anders takes a step back and his cocky confidence flickers; a burst of flame surges up around Karlach's entire body as she screams into his face. "AND I'M NEVER GOING BACK!"

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years

Text

The super-self-indulgend crossover of The Umbrella Academy and Descendants.

@lyramundana

Here you go, enjoy.

At the end of the 3rd series, Five doesn't lose his powers, at least not right now, not entirely- he has enough for one last jump, one last desperate attempt to save his powers, the word as he knows it, and maybe his life. It's not spatial jump, not even a time jump, it's something way more dangerous, prohibited by every Commission rulebook there is, and no sane person would ever try it, but Five has moved beyond „sane“ a long time ago.

He jumps through dimensions.

Lila, the mirror, follows him within seconds. She doesn't care for dying any more than she cares for the rulebook: she read them once and decided they suck.

Klaus crashes the dimension they landed in after about two days of continual deaths, at least five screaming matches with god, and good deal of closely-unspecified drugs.

He never read the rulebook.

He did, however, read his fair share of fairytales, so he recognises the dimension they found themselves in the first. Or maybe he is still of his rocket, hard to know.

Either way, he falls down on the decrepit, dark street, pulls himself upwards, not bothering to dust himself, and looks around.

„Hey! You look like Malefincent! Like, horns and all!“ he informs a tiny woman who os passing by in flaring robes. She turns around and glows her eyes green at him. She also almost hits him with her scepter, but Klaus is very good at dodging.

„Oh!“ he beams at her, „You are Maleficent!“

She attempts to hit him again.

„Have you seen my brother here? Tiny man, grumpy, kidna cute when he wants to be? Can jump through time and space? Can slaughter a whole room of grown men with a fire-emergency axe? Asks for a black coffee every half an hour?“

...And the Maleficent woman is gone. Nice.

„Someone? Anyone?!“ he yells through the ally. And Klaus was so sure he got the right dimension this time!

Eventually, someone drags him to the Slop Shop in the port, where Five is, sure enough, drinking the disgusting thing they call coffee.

Klaus is well aware the kids attempt to rob him blind, too, but jokes on them, he has nothing worth stealing.

„Hi little man!“ Klaus rushes to hug his brother and take a sip his coffee. Turns out Five has already spiked the disgusting bitter thing with something. „Finally found you!“

„What the hell are you doing here, Klaus?“ Five asks instead of greeting. Rude.

„Why, looking for my favourite brother, of course! Well, second favourite-“

„...Ben has been dead for years,“ mutters Five and Klaus proceeds to ignore him.

„Anyway, did you meet Maleficent yet? She is such a lovely lady!“

Five almost chokes: „Maleficent?!“

...And that's how the brothers find out they accidentally crashed a nightmare dystopia version of happily ever after.

Lila knew already. Probably. At either rate, she has been vibing with Facilier sisters the whole time. She was also the first one to discover that the kids of this dimension got their powers. Suddenly. Apparently, they had no powers before, and magic doesn't work on the Iske, whatever the Isle is.

Good for them, decides Lila, as she still has her mirror powers.

She also decides she will be having few strong, ehm, words of choice, with whoever made the Isle. The words being „yelling till their ears bleed“, „some strategically applied torture“, „defenestration“, and maybe „arson“ and „explosives“.

...Yeah, no. Those are not gonna be words. Lila's gonna kill that bloody bastard.

Anyway, the Facilier sisters?

They are kidna cool.

One of them, Celia, Lila thinks, got her power, the mirror. The other sister got the weird raven-thing one of the Sparrows had going on. You know who, that kidna hot goth girl? With the sunglases? Yeah, that one.

So, yeah. But the Facilers are making it work! They've had their powers for about two days and they have enough blackmail material to get half the Isle do their bidding!

Well, enough new blackmail material. They were decently stocked even before.

At this point, a fight breaks out in front of the, ehm, coffee Klaus and Five are sitting in: a dark-haired boy and a blonde girl, a bit younger than him, are yelling at eachother in frankly admirable volume; Klaus winces and raises his hands to his ears. Ow.

Another girl, that looks like a mixture of them both, trails a bit after them, smirking, and casually picking up the daggers they threw and other weapons they dropped. Sure. Looks fun.

Oh. And the younger girl starts spitting. Nice.

„Don't spit at your brother, Calista!“ scolds the older girl, „Not even if your saliva makes him see things! Especially then-“

They boy protests and they move to yell at eachother somewhere else. The space around them is suddenly completely empty, which might or might not have something to do with the sudden suffocating feeling of dread Klaus is feeling: his head hurts, too, and he has trouble breathing.

„What was that?“ he whines.

„That, brother dear,“ answers Five, putting down his spiked drink, which is not worthy of the name coffee, „I have been trying to figure out for the last two days, up until you showed up and told me that apparently, you have met Maleficent, and that the shop across the street is run by Ursula the sea witch.“

A group of ragged teens enters the gruesome estabilishment, so loud that the Umbrella brothers have no choice but to have the displeasure to hear their conversation:

„So... Our Captain suddenly has tentacles?“

„Sure.“

„Well, she's half sea witch anyway, so I would worry about that too much.“

„I'd worry about that! Especially if the tentacles are creepy af and want to rip people apart!“

„...Still no real change here.“

„Besides, the only creepy thing here is the fact that our firts mate finds it hot.“

„...I hate you all and I hope you all burn in hell for reminding me of that.“

Klaus chokes a laugh and the teenage pirates continue talking:

„Hey, speaking of creepy things, have y'all noticed the weird creepy feeling you get when he looks you in the eye? It low-key makes me wanna die.“

„Sucks for you, mate. I stopped looking Harry Hook in the eye years ago.“

„... That's fair.“

The teens grab their drinks and exit the shop without paying, rapidly pursued by a couple of angry... Goblins? Well, those creatures are absolutely creepy enough to be goblins, so, yeah.

Five pours another shot of alcohol into the pitiful remainer of his coffee and mutters something like „can't catch a fucking break“, „gotta find a way out of this mess“ and „at least the bloody apocalypse had rules.“

Now, ehm, some of the TUA powers I gave to Descendants kids? Maybe some „interesting“ bits of trivia as well?

Freddie Facilier got Fey's birds. She didn't lose her sight, though. And she is having quite a lot of fun with her new spies, thank you for asking.

As is Celia, who got Lila's mirror.

None of them has tried to get the birds through the Barrier yet, but if it is possible, well, the Beast would be losing his eyes very soon. And the Remote to the Barrier immediately after. Probably also a good deal of the less gaudy royal jewels.

Look, all three of them are opportunistic bitches (affectionate) and I love them. That's why none of the Facilier sisters got Klaus's immortality and ghost powers.

Speaking of Klaus's immortality and ghost powers, I was thinking either Carlos de Vil or Claudine Frollo.

CJ Hook got Jayme's Nightmare Venon and it's my favourite thing. Just. Imagine it. Tiny half feral pirate child CJ Hook, literally spitting at her enemies. And she'd have a blast viewing their hallucinations, too.

Harry got Christopher's Existential Horror. But he is not a cube. Uma would probably break the universe to kill the creator if her boyfriend first mate suddenly turned into a cube.

To get the full brunt of Harry's powers, you need to look him in the eyes. He takes to wearing sunglasses around Uma and Gil.

Speaking of Uma. She gets Ben's Horror, because, come on, her mother is half-octopus. I don't have the energy to figure out anything more complicated.

Harriet, well, idk. Honestly, the funniest scenario is if she gets none, because look at it:

The Hook siblings fight, again. And this time, they apparently added a few crocodiles in the mix to make it „more exciting“.

Five is just starting to figure out that the kids really have the powers like his siblings and the Sparows do. He even pinned some of them down, most notably Harry and CJ, who make no effort to conceal their powers and also apparently feel the need to be the center of attention all the time.

Now he is focusing on their sister: She has just picked up a crocodile with her bare hands and throws it across the street.

„So this one clearly got superstrenght,“ Five mutters.

„Oh, no,“ answers Anthony, making heart eyes at Harriet from the sidelines of the fight, „She could always do that.“

„...What?!“

The Tremaine boy shrugs and says that it comes from a lifetime of wrestling crocodiles, and, excuse me, what?!

What the fuck is wrong with this dimension?!

„Sure. She could always do that. Do you have any alcohol?“ Five compromises, looking around. Anthony pulls out a flask without missing a beat.

So, yeah, she might or might not have superstrenght, but Anthony is biased, so we will never know.

He also comforts her later when she complains that her siblings got powers. This is what he precisely says: „Harriet, you are the scariest person I know, even without mind-altering powers.“ (and it works)

The other option considered for her was the Rumour.

But also.

Evie with the Rumour. Hear me out, Evie with Allison's Rumour. Girl knows how to speak, how to close any loopholes. (Her mother was bored, so she actually taught her stuff-), so, yeah. Evie with the Rumour would be terrifying, but also, she wouldn't abuse it. Too much.

Jay got Diego's power.

Idk, as you can see, I'm obsessed with the pirates (which apparently includes Faciliers and Tremaines, too), so, yeah, this is what I've got.

The rest is like. No plot. Only vibes ✨

And various people rightfully yelling at King Beast and Fairy Godmother.

Maybe a bit of arson.

Oh, of course. Five, Klaus, and Lila help the Isle kids get out of their prison. Because they are decent people, right?

Klaus also takes one look at the Isle kids and goes: „Oh. I guess I'm a parent now.“

So do Lila and Five, but they don't say it out loud.

Five almost gets a heart attack when Lila casually greets him on the streets a day later, because what do you mean you have been here the whole time?!

„Yeah, and?“

Klaus is pretty happy to see Lila and attempts to hug her. She alnost stabs him before dropping the knife and awkwardly patting his back.

And of course, the "we ended the word" conversation I'm bringing back because I think it's hilarious:

Five, trying to get Isle kids to cooperate: „Y'know, we almost destroyed the world three times. We blew up the moon once.“

90% of Isle kids in earshot: „Cool. Can you do it again?“

CJ Hook: „Can you teach me how to blow up the moon?!“

Klaus: „...Ok everyone, I'll be holding a yoga class next morning and a support group after lunch.“

(Against Five's expectations, this conversation does not, in fact, make the Isle kids behave. Not even a bit. Harriet and Ginny show up on the yoga class with a bottle of wine though.)

Yeah, that's all I've got.

#disney descendants #the umbrella academy #crossover #sorry to all TUA fans that will see this and have no idea what is going on #and vice versa #but it's kidna fun so yeah suffer #cj hook #harriet hook #harry hook #uma descendants #isle of the lost #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #lila hargreeves #evie grimhilde #anthony tremaine #also suffer through me shipping who I want (affectionate)

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pkmntrainertrix · 8 months

Text

Trix lays on its bed. Besides the glow of the computer screen, there’s no light in the room. He sighs.

A Purrloin slinks out from under the bed. It jumps up and lays beside him, and Trix puts both arms around it to pull it close.

“Oh Microwave Dinner. We’re in it now.”

Its voice sounds distorted. As if there’s multiple people saying its words. An eerie chorus. Not that Dinner seems to mind it.

Time passes. The Purrloin’s presence seems to comfort Trix enough to let him sleep. Dinner seems satisfied with a job well done, and falls asleep as well.

There’s voices talking in another room. After a minute the voices quiet, before a door creaks open and light from the hallway shines through. A tall woman with long, black hair moves soundlessly into the room. She gently shakes Trix’s shoulder.

“Hey. Sorry it took me so long. I’m here now.”

Trix grumbles for a moment before he realizes who the voice belongs to.

“Mom!”

It quickly sits up and gives her a hug. Now, sitting up and in the light, more features can be made out on Trix. Its hands are semi-transparent, with a slight purple tone. His eyes almost shine a bright blue color through his hair, it has three gemstones set into its chest, and spikes poke out from under the sweater he’s wearing.

“Good to see you too dear. Sorry about the wait. I had to get something… special to help you.”

“Special? What do you mean?”

“Now, I know what you’re going to say. But mom! It doesn’t fit my aesthetic! But this is to help you keep from hurting yourself so I need you to just accept it.”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment.

“…Okay. What is it?”

Its mom takes a Luxury ball out of her bag and hands it to him. He seems a bit nervous, but releases the Pokémon held inside it.

It’s a Klefki, but it doesn’t look normal. The metal it’s made of is dark in color, and the key shape on its head is… odd.

“This is a Skeleton Key breed Klefki. They’re rare, which is why this took so long. They’re able to unlock just about any lock, be it physical or mental.”

Trix just stares at the odd Klefki. It stares back. Microwave Dinner seems wary of it, and puts itself between the two of them.

“You’re right. Fairy doesn’t match my aesthetic at all. But this guy looks kinda cool so I’ll let it slide.”

The Klefki tilts its head like a confused dog, before suddenly staring at Trix’s chest. The room is still for a moment.

It rams straight into Trix.

He yells in pain as the cold iron twists into his flesh, and Microwave Dinner hisses at it, ready to attack. But before it can, spirits free itself from Trix. They all fly out the window. Well, all but one.

Trix gasps for air as the Klefki pulls itself free. Microwave Dinner still looks hostile, but it’s hesitant to attack the living keyring. Trix’s mom looks at the remaining ghost, and quickly offers it a pokeball to hide in. It lets itself be caught, just as a concerned man rushes into the room.

“Is everything alright?! I heard screaming and-“

He stops upon seeing Trix. All its ghostly features had faded. It stares at the Klefki in fascination.

“Hey dad! Yeah I’m feeling great. You gotten the chance to meet Skelly yet?”

#pokeblogging #pkmn irl #rotumblr #pokemon irl #long post #//What Goes Bump In The Night #//quote en quote good ending achieved! though I may make a post about what would have happened in the bad one :]#//Arc’s over! thank you so much to everyone who interacted! I had a lot of fun :D

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ace-oreos · 2 years

Text

James B. Barnes and the Complicated Art of Being a Person Ch. 2

My first venture into Marvel fanfic cross-posted from Ao3. Post-Endgame, pre-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier era Bucky coming to terms with everything that's happened since Civil War.

Bucky Barnes has the chance to start over.

Except he isn't starting over, not really. This is more of a... a retake. A correction. A chance to pick up where he left off, back in 1945. Only the Brooklyn of the twenty-first century isn't the Brooklyn he remembers, and there's no Steve Rogers here to keep him on track. Nothing is anywhere close to how it used to be.

But there's no Winter Soldier, either. Which means Bucky might actually have a chance to make a life for himself.

Right?

9:14 A.M.: Missed call from Sam Wilson

9:17 A.M.: Voicemail from Sam Wilson

Bucky stares at the screen. Sighs. Presses play.

Sam’s voice echoes too loudly in the near-empty apartment.

“Hey, Bucky. I know this is kinda weird, but uh… I dunno, just thought I should reach out, I guess, I know I texted you the other - yeah. Anyway, I hope you’re not, like, scaring your neighbors by singing Russian lullabies or something.”

Sam pauses here. Bucky is about ready to delete the message when there’s a rough sound like a throat being cleared.

“I know it’s probably been especially hard since Steve - well, we’re right there with ya. We all miss him.” Another pause. A deep breath. Sam’s voice is steadier when he continues. “You don’t have to call me back or anything like that. Just promise you won’t - God, I don’t know, bash anyone’s skull in? Stab someone who’s just taking out their trash or something?”

Sam allows himself a chuckle at his own humor. “Alright, I gotta go. Take care, Buck.”

Bucky lets the remainder of the message run itself out. He doesn’t know what to make of it, except he’s sure he doesn’t like someone he barely knows calling him Buck and that Wilson doesn’t know the half of what he’s poking at, Steve and lullabies and all.

(He tells himself he’ll get around to deleting it later.)

There’s something of an underlying challenge from Sam, too. Bucky translates the whole try not to murder anyone spiel to try to act like you’re not the most unstable old man this side of the 1950s. The kid’s a real comedian.

A dangerous defiance sets his nerves buzzing. So Wilson thinks Bucky can’t handle being left to his own devices. And maybe he can’t, but that’s hardly Sam’s business. Fucking Avengers sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Last Bucky checked, this is his deal to figure out. Him and SHIELD and a good chunk of the U.S. intelligence community. They’d tried to hide that one from him, but it isn’t his fault their surveillance isn’t exactly subtle.

Feeling a spike of anger at it all, Bucky grabs his keys and pounds downstairs. There’s a coffee shop a few doors down that he’s only thought about in passing but is now unequivocally his destination. He probably shouldn’t be going into this - unknown territory, for all intents and purposes - all riled up, but he has a point to make.

The anger carries him through the door and abruptly falters as soon as he’s far enough inside that turning back now would be too obvious. It’s a small place, all dark wood and soft lighting, with a steady stream of people manuevering between the tables.

Hmm. Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea.

Goddamn it, Barnes.

“Fuck it,” he mutters aloud. It’s a coffee shop, for God’s sake. He can handle this.

But there really are a lot of people here. He eyes them warily, and so far the most he gets in return is a puzzled glance.

He tries to focus on the chalkboard menu mounted behind the small counter. It’s almost alarming how many options there are. He doesn’t know what most of them even are, so he decides the safest route is a simple black coffee like he could’ve made at home if he was thinking clearly for once.

Black coffee, he repeats firmly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable itch that’s crawling up his spine. There are too many people here. Too many eyes on him. He can’t see the door, and there’s already a few people queuing up behind him. He’s effectively stuck.

Bucky is out of his depth in a fucking coffee shop. He’s not sure he can fully comprehend the sheer stupidity of it all.

He arrives at the counter much sooner than he would have liked and waits patiently for the young woman to turn her attention to him. It’s two words. Five, if you counted please and thank you like his mom would’ve wanted. His mom. What would she say if she could see her son -

“Can I help you?” the woman asks before she’s fully facing him. After handing a steaming cup to another customer, she turns her eyes to him expectantly, and her smile falters.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He rushes through his order before she can start asking questions. “Um. Just a black coffee, please.” His voice catches in a way he thought HYDRA had drilled out of him. “Thanks.”

Her smile returns, but there’s more cracks in it than there were before. “Size?” she asks, poised to retrieve a cup from the stack of Styrofoam behind the counter.

“Small,” he manages.

Just when he thinks he’s managed to muddle through this, she uncaps a marker and holds it ready to scrawl on the cup. “Can I have your name, please?”

“James,” he says without thinking. It feels strange in his mouth.

He fumbles with his wallet and passes over the bills with an unsteady hand. If the woman notices, she doesn’t comment. He’s inordinately grateful for that.

He slinks to the back corner to wait. His heart hammers in his chest, and it takes a few deliberate breaths before it starts to slow. He’s still uncomfortably aware of the glances that are coming his way more frequently now, but he does his best to paste a bland approximation of a smile on his face and fixes his gaze on the opposite wall.

Bucky shifts his weight from one foot to the other while he waits. How long does it take to make a cup of coffee?

Just when he’s convinced he can’t take much more of this - there’s still no way to make a quick exit, damn it - the woman holds up a cup and calls, “Black coffee for James?”

He crosses the distance to the counter and takes it with mumbled thanks. He pauses long enough to grab a napkin, then beats a hasty retreat through the press of people and out the door. He doesn’t let out a sigh of relief until he’s put a good distance between himself and the storefront.

Systems check, he thinks as he takes a cautious sip. He smiles despite himself when the first word that comes to mind is shitty. He may be a complete fucking mess, but at least he knows it, right?

The coffee isn’t half bad. Some people - Sam Wilson comes to mind, for whatever reason - may not be inclined to agree, but Sam seems like the sort to ruin a decent cup of coffee with a greatly disproportionate sugar-to-liquid ratio.

Bucky is almost tempted to return Sam’s call, if only for the satisfaction of telling him he underestimated Bucky’s ability to act like a normal person. Then he thinks about how close he was to completely losing his shit in a coffee shop and decides against it.

It’s probably a good thing that the conditions of his pardon include court-mandated therapy.

Bucky drinks his coffee and walks, enjoying the midmorning sun on his face. It’s nice out today, and if he doesn’t try to squint through the sunlight it could almost be any late spring day ninety years ago. The bricks were probably a more vivid red back then, and God knows the streets weren’t half as loud, but the city looks… familiar. He lets himself enjoy it.

He enjoys it right up until he accidentally collides directly with someone waiting for a bus because, you know, it’s stupid bright and he can’t see shit. The guy ends up going one way and the bag he was holding goes another.

“Shit, sorry.” Bucky stoops to retrieve the bag with his free hand and offers it to its owner. The guy, who was picking himself up off the bench he’d stumbled onto, goes to take the bag and freezes.

In the split second that their eyes lock, Bucky wills him not to speak. Just take the goddamn bag before -

“You’re - you’re Bucky Barnes,” the guy says.

“Yup.” Fuck.

“And you - you’re the Winter Soldier.”

“Was,” Bucky corrects. He’s starting to feel stupid standing here holding the bag out.

The guy doesn’t look convinced. He takes his bag warily, like he thinks Bucky is going to snap his wrist if he gets too close. Bucky, for his part, tries to school his expression into something less like a grimace and more of a painful smile.

“Sorry about that,” he says again, hoping the guy will take that as his cue to end the conversation.

“So you… live in Brooklyn.”

“Yeah.”

“And everyone’s - I mean, you can just do that?”

“As far as I know.”

“The Winter Soldier lives in Brooklyn,” the guy repeats dubiously.

Bucky sighs. “No, I live in Brooklyn.”

A frown creases the guy’s forehead. “But you’re the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky starts to object, then shuts his mouth. It’s kind of true, isn’t it? The pardon is great and all, and Ayo and Princess Shuri and a dozen other Wakandan doctors besides insisted they successfully broke through the programming, but… the Winter Soldier is still part of him. Or he’s still the Winter Soldier. One of the two. Both?

“Look, I’m sorry I bumped into you, alright? My bad. Won’t happen again.”

The guy opens his mouth, but Bucky walks away before he can say anything else.

(It gets under his skin, though - the idea that even now, on the other side of the world and free from HYDRA’s control, he’s still the Winter Soldier. He doesn’t want to be.)

(God, what a stupid thing to say. He didn’t want any of it in the first place.)

Bucky’s coffee is cold by the time he finishes it. He tosses the empty cup in a trash can on the sidewalk and debates his next move. Really, his options are to go home or… kick around the city and hope no one recognizes him.

With another sigh, Bucky waits to cross the street so he can make his way home.

***

This century is stupid, Bucky decides. He’d like to go back to the 1940s now, thank you. He’s had quite enough of 2024 with its preoccupation with gadgets and social media and the complete and utter lack of fucking privacy.

“... James?”

The woman - Raynor, he’s pretty sure; he wasn’t really listening when she introduced herself - seems to be nearing the end of her patience.

“I realize this is likely very difficult for you,” she says, “but for this to work, I need your cooperation.”

“It’s therapy.”

“Precisely - ”

“I just, I dunno, sit here while you crawl through my brain and tell me what’s wrong with me and then you do some weird shit to fix it. Hopefully you don’t zap me, though. Not sure my brain can take much more of the frying, you know?”

“I - what?” Raynor looks genuinely baffled.

“You know, like HYDRA used to? You have my files - I know that’s what that folder is, by the way,” Bucky adds, nodding towards the thick folder on her desk.

Raynor looks like she’s chewing the inside of her cheek. Bucky hadn’t really meant to make her feel bad or whatever, but he would really just like it if she would stop asking him questions.

“I know what your file says,” she says at last. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

He scowls. “That’s kind of fucked up.”

“James.” Couldn’t she at least call him Bucky?

Well. He hadn’t exactly volunteered that he generally didn’t go by James. He hadn’t volunteered much of anything.

“I recognize that you aren’t exactly eager to talk about… any of this,” Raynor continues. “But the only way to get better is to work through it. And I’m sure I hardly need to remind you that this is part of your pardon.”

“Yeah, you really didn’t.”

Okay, he kind of feels bad for that one. He’s not trying to be rude, but come on. Yeah, he had to be pardoned by the government and it almost didn’t happen because he did some seriously fucked up shit that killed a lot of innocent people, he gets it, he remembers.

Raynor sighs. “Let’s start small.”

“Okay?”

“Tell me what you’re doing now. Day-to-day, I mean.”

Seeing as it’s only been two weeks since he was cleared to move into an apartment on his own without constant supervision, Bucky doesn’t think it’s all that exciting. But he gets the feeling that isn’t the answer the nice lady is looking for, so he dutifully walks her through an average day in the life of the Wint - of Bucky Barnes.

“Okay.” She scribbles something down in a notebook. What the fuck is she doing that for? “And how have you been feeling?”

Pretty shitty, actually. He glares at the notebook.

“James?” She glances up and frowns when she notices the look on his face. “Is something wrong?”

A lot of things are wrong, actually. It’s a pretty astute observation.

“I just… it’s nothing,” he says, because even in his head it sounds stupid. Sorry, Doc, the notebook is just really getting to me. Mind putting it somewhere far, far away from here? “At least it isn’t red,” he mutters to himself.

“Red? What’s red?” And then, when he doesn’t answer: “James?”

“Notebook. It’s not red.”

“I see,” Raynor says even though they both know she doesn’t. In fact, she completely misses the point, because she proceeds to write something else.

Bucky lets out a sigh. He was really hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out for her. But he does anyway since that seems to be the only way to get a message across nowadays. “Your notebook. It reminded me of HYDRA, okay?”

It’s as much ground as he’s willing to give. Unfortunately, Raynor is all over it.

“Can you expand on that?”

“HYDRA,” he says reluctantly. “They had a notebook that had the - well, I don’t know what was actually in it besides the…”

Raynor waits.

“Look, don’t you already know this? Isn’t that the point of SHIELD giving you all those documents and reports and whatever the fuck else they could get their hands on?” Bucky grumbles.

“SHIELD’s job is to give me the information I need to help you heal,” Raynor explains with remarkable patience. “But there’s a world of difference between reading a report put together by a government agent and hearing it from the person who experienced it firsthand.”

He’s forced to admit that it makes sense.

“The notebook. It makes you… uncomfortable? Nervous? Anxious?”

Bucky considers it. “Nervous, I guess.”

“Because you feel like I’m writing down information to use against you, like HYDRA?”

“That too.”

All he can think of is that stupid notebook, the red fucking notebook with the star on it. It didn’t matter who was holding it; the notebook was bad news. He knew what it meant, after a while. He shouldn’t have been able to remember it, seeing as HYDRA made sure to wipe him after every mission, but eventually he learned to fear the little red book.

“If it helps at all, everything I’m writing here is strictly confidential.” Raynor is trying to catch his eye, but he’s looking everywhere but her. “The only people who have access to it besides me are SHIELD agents with the highest security clearance - ”

A jolt of anger brings him very much back to the present. “Wait, what? This is all going back to SHIELD?”

“They are responsible for monitoring your wellbeing, James. Right now the government still considers you a significant threat.”

“When were you going to tell me that? For fuck’s sake, I’m supposed to be spilling my guts about all the shit I was forced to do as the Winter Soldier and just be okay with the fact that any asshole from SHIELD can see it?”

Blood roars in his ears. Even now, after they’d promised they would help him get back on track - whatever the fuck that even meant - SHIELD feels they can access his private shit as they please?

His metal arm whirs as his fist clenches at his side. Bucky shoves himself to his feet, struggling to keep his anger in check. “I’d like to go now.”

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes, James, I - ”

He shoves roughly through the door before she can finish.

6:05 P.M., delivered to Sam Wilson: Hey, Sam. Got your voicemail. I’m fine.

6:09 P.M., delivered to Sam Wilson: thanks.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #captain america #princess shuri #the falcon and the winter soldier #christina raynor #marvel #fanfic #bucky's a mess but at least he's trying lmao

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