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capypub · 10 months

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Bed Rock - Mafia!Joel Miller Extended Scene

Can be read as a standalone or part of my Mafia!Joel Miller Without Warning/ Extended Scenes Series (would take place between scenes 3 and 4)

Mafia!Joel Miller x OFC

MDNI. 18+ content.

Summary: They didn’t mean to break her bed, obviously…

Rating: M (smut, oral male receiving)

AN: I'm still here lol. Someone suggested on A03 more Ellie involvement. This is obviously not that, but I'm sitting on a couple ideas right now...

Without Warning Masterlist

They didn’t mean to break her bed, obviously…

One minute, Joel had been thrusting deeply into her tight heat, grunting feral above her as he gripped her headboard in an iron fist, the nails of his other hand digging into her hips as he pinned her squirming form down to the sweat-covered sheets. The frame squeaked in time with his thrusts, the whole mattress shaking as he gave her everything he had, hungry for her release.

The next minute there was a creek and then a crack.

Just as she cried out for him from her orgasm, a whining, whimpering puddle under him, they felt the drop, both of their stomachs’ flipping as the bedframe hit the wooden floor with a low thud. “Oh fuck!” she gasped, sitting up, nearly hitting Joel in the forehead, breathing hard as she looked around.

He was silent, shocked and a little disoriented, still hard and throbbing in her wet heat.

“Joel!” she gasped, looking towards the end of her bed, which was angled awkwardly on one leg, the rest of the frame flat on the ground.

He blinked once, finally realized how off balance he felt, taking in the scene before him, finally releasing the headboard and sitting up. She giggled, scooting back, his cock slipping out of her wet heat as he hissed from the change in temperature.

“We…” she laughed with a shake of her head, “I can’t believe we broke the bed.”

“Shit...my bad, baby,” he muttered, grinning in amusement as they awkwardly got off her now busted bed frame, the mattress sagging to one side. He didn’t even seem embarrassed or upset at the matter, just…proud, almost? Entertained and proud, if she had to guess by that slight hint of smugness in his smirk.

They got dressed, Joel still achingly hard in his jeans as he assessed the damage. Shoving the mattress to the ground, he inspected the frame.

“Where’d you get this from? It’s a piece of shit, babe,” he scoffed bluntly, now noticing the shoddy welding and old metal bars.

“It’s called living on a budget, asshole,” she shot back, playfully rolling her eyes as she sat beside where was kneeling. “Textbooks are expensive,” she added after he shot a glare at her over his shoulder from her sass. “Can you fix it?”

He scoffed. “No, baby girl, this is beyond fixin’,” he shook his head, standing up straight, his knees popping in the process as he groaned softly. “Just gonna have to get you a new one, make sure it can hold up against me,” he said with a sly grin down at her.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that exists, Joel.”

“Come on, get your shoes on,” he said, offering his hand to her.

“Why?” she questioned, allowing him to help pull her up anyways.

“Gotta get you a new bed frame, maybe a bigger mattress while we’re at it,” he said casually, grabbing his keys from her dresser after she was full on her feet.

“What? Joel?!” she called after him, following him out into the living room, where he picked up his wallet and slipped on his shoes.

He ignored her arguments as he guided her out the door and into his truck, pulling out onto the main road with a smug grin as she stared at him with a mix of confusion, shock and a little irritation sprinkled in as well at his sheer audacity.

“Where are we going?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as he stopped at a red light.

“Told you, darlin’, gonna get you a new setup, can’t have my girl sleepin’ on the floor,” he shrugged easily, popping a stick of gum in his mouth from the pack he kept in the driver’s side door.

“Joel, you’re not buying me a new-.”

“Shh, baby doll, don’t you worry ‘bout it, alright,” he cut her off by reaching over to caress her jaw softly, stealing a quick kiss before the light turned green again.

She gaped, unable to process the strange mixture of contempt and appreciation battling ferociously in her chest. It left her opening and closing her mouth like a floundering fish, at a loss for words on whether to thank him or chew him out for his arrogance.

“Joel, stop being ridiculous, this isn’t funny,” she said, finally managing to string a coherent thought together.

Their relationship was still fairly new to her, so Joel's insistence on providing was something she was still getting used to, even if it was his fault in a way, something in her overly-independent brain continued to fight him tooth and nail about whipping out his card for her at any chance he got.

He chuckled, finding her fire adorable. He liked seeing this side of her, all worked up and determined to maintain her independence, even when all he wanted to do was take care of her.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one to blame for the bed givin’ out in the first place, baby doll, the least I can do is get you a new one,” he reasoned calmly, enjoying the frustrated pout on her face all the more when she started blushing. “You’re cute, gettin’ all worked up when I try to take care of you,” he observed, his eyes filled with amusement and adoration as he ran his fingers through her hair.

She blushed harder, turning her head away for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Shut up,” she muttered defiantly, her heart fluttering in her chest as she heard the low, deep chuckle that made her melt.

He brought her to an IKEA, strolling leisurely around the front of the truck to get to her door, taking her hand as he helped her out. She was attempting to scowl at him, her irritation much lower, but still present. To him, it looked like she was simply pouting still, making him smile.

“Gonna need to fuck that attitude out of you when we get back,” he commented lightly, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders, leading her to the entrance.

She gasped softly, his lewd comment out in public catching her off guard, only making him grin wider as an oblivious family walked past them.

It took them roughly two hours to find a bed that Joel approved of, his contractor brain assessing and scrutinizing every detail. The first hour consisted of him grumbling and swearing under his breath about the “shitty craftsman” and “fuckin’ aluminum beam in a box” before they found one that didn’t make him roll his eyes or scoff. He didn’t bat an eye when she tossed a new comforter and a couple pillows into their cart, smiling in approval when she wasn’t looking, happy that she was finally letting him provide for her.

She followed him into her apartment as he carried the new frame, her arms holding the two pillows she had bought as he balanced the comforter on his shoulder. He could feel her heavy gaze on him as he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, using a box cutter from his truck to remove the framing.

Gods, watching him put the bed frame together had her wet and needy much quicker than she would like to admit. He held a screwdriver in his mouth as he aligned two bars together. She had no idea what he was doing, but she could watch him do it all day long. Joel glanced up, his eyes taunting as he caught her practically drooling over him. He removed the screwdriver from his mouth, using it to secure the two pieces in his hand together with a bolt.

“Doin’ okay over there, sweetheart?” he asked, his drawl thick as he teased her.

“...uh huh…” she murmured, sounding breathless as she watched his hands, rough and controlled in their movement as he moved to the other end of one of the bars.

He chuckled. “Lookin’ a little wild eyed, darlin’...”

“S-shut up,” she muttered, looking away, slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, ‘s cute,” he winked, crouching down to test the security of one of the legs after twisting it into place.

She felt like he finished at an agonizingly slow pace. It shouldn’t take this long to put a bed frame together. He had to be teasing her on purpose. At least it felt like a long time, her body growing warmer and warmer as he put the new piece of furniture together for her. She couldn’t even really appreciate the end results because she was too busy working his belt buckle open.

“Easy baby, still gotta put the sheets on,” he chuckled teasingly, leaning back in her desk chair, allowing her to frantically free his semi-hard cock from his jeans.

“Later,” she panted, dropping to her knees, nosing at the trail of dark curls starting on his lower abdomen and moving down to where she grasped the base of his cock.

“Got you all worked up, darlin’,” he said with a smirk, running his hands through her hair as she licked the tip.

“Yeah,” she murmured with her lips around the head of his cock, suckling softly with a needy moan.

“Oh, fuck, baby girl,” he groaned, fisting the hair at the crown of her head loosely, his head rolling back as his legs spread and relaxed around her body. “Gonna thank me with that pretty mouth, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice now a low rumble in his throat.

“Please,” she murmured, pulling back to lick at the tip, her hand warm and wet as she stroked him slowly.

“That’s right, baby, use that mouth on me,” he nodded, pushing her head down halfway onto his throbbing cock, groaning as she sucked him off with a whine. “Such a pretty girl, doin’ so well f’ me, gorgeous’,” he praised her with a throaty moan, his fingers in her hair guiding her strokes as her hand worked the rest of his length just as eagerly.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby girl,” he sighed, his stomach tightening as he felt his oncoming release, his grip rough on her soft locks as he got closer and closer.

She pulled off him, gasping softly for air, her hand still moving rhythmically on his length. Her lips were wet and slightly swollen from how hard she was sucking on him, eyes dazed as she stared up at him.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this, baby,” he sighed, guiding her mouth back to him, growling as she took him deeper, gagging on his length. “That’s right, such a good girl f’ me, gonna come, baby girl, swallow f’ me, be my good girl,” he groaned, holding her head down with a deep growl, his hips bucking slightly into her mouth as she moaned, his release coating her throat.

She was breathing hard when he finally released his grip on her hair, eyes wide and eager as she stood up, leaning over to kiss him, the taste of him still on her lips, making him groan in satisfaction.

“Thank you, baby,” she said sweetly, her hands on his shoulders as she pushed herself to stand straight, looking over at the newly built bed frame, much nicer than her original by a longshot.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, still catching his breath, his soft cock still exposed as he lazily tucked himself back into his jeans.

“Wanna test it out after I put the new sheets on?” she offered with an arched brow, grinning slyly at him, her sweet tone replaced with one of a mischievous minx.

“Fuck yeah I do,” he grunted, standing up, easily lifting her off the ground with her legs around her waist, no intention of getting the mattress off the floor and onto the new frame any time soon as he set her on her dresser to kiss her neck hungrily as her sweet laughter filled the small apartment, eventually shifting into desperate moans…

#mafia!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x ofc #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au

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fruitsoxs · 7 months

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Could you do a drabble of Wolfwood coming to after getting knocked out in a fight and seeing the normally gentle giant reader surrounded by unconscious bodies of their attackers, holding the last one. They're shaking, knuckles bruised and downright feral, having lost it. I'm a fiend for the 'gentle character snaps when their loved ones are in danger' trope.

here you go!

pairings; wolfwood x (GN)reader warnings; violence lol notes; this is kinda short but we ball

Wolfwood’s head spins as he sits up. He carefully places a hand to his forehead, and slowly opens his eyes. The light blinds him right away, and he finds his eye closed again as he lets out a groan. He’s having trouble remembering what happened. Why was he unconscious again? All he remembers is walking through the desert with you after his Angelina broke down. It was supposed to be an easy walk- the town wasn’t too far away. But-

Oh no

He remembers now. There were some stupid bandits that popped out of nowhere. They took him completely by surprise. Despite taking out a few, Wolfwood couldn’t hold out for too long and somehow one got him from behind.

His eyes pop open immediately, worry filling his senses. He doesn’t care how much the sun is killing his head. There’s something more important than that right now; you. If he got knocked out, then what happened to you? You’re the most gentle person he’s ever met, and normally so sweet. He made a promise he would keep you safe.

He quickly looks around, scared about what he may see. As heis eyes adjust to the light, a few blurry figures start to form into the shape of humans. What he sees before him is something he would have never expected.

A circle of bodies, the bandits, all sprawled out around you as you hold the last one in your hands. Your fingers grip the man’s neck, as you glare down at him. In your other hand is a small knife that Wolfwood had given you a few days earlier. He had given to you just in case, with no idea the damage you could truly do. Wolfwood’s eyes widen at the scene.

“You scum.” you spit at the last man, throwing his unconscious body on the ground. You turn your head towards Wolfwood. He can see the worry in your eyes. You seem surprised to see him already awake, struggling to stand up. You quickly take off in his direction and slide down next to him.

“Hey-” you whisper softly, pushing him back to the ground. “Don’t get up yet- you took quite a hit there.” you mumble, looking him over. He’s still a little shocked from the scene he had witnessed earlier, his brain barely working. He just follows your direction, allowing you to give him a quick glance over.

You take his head in your hands, turning it so he’s looking you in the eyes. “Are you okay?” you ask him. He blinks a few times before stuttering out a response “I- I think I’m okay?” You arch an eyebrow at the man, and lean in a little closer. “Are you sure? You look a little … dazed.” you question, obviously worried about his well being. He stares at you for a few seconds, then glances back over to the pile of bodies.

“You… took them all on your own?”

A smile spreads across your face as you nod. “I told you I could handle myself.” confidence oozing through your voice. He glances back at you, taking note of the scratch on your cheek. He reaches up and wipes away the blood as softly as he can. “Damn.” he murmurs “You're ... incredible.”

You’re a bit surprised by the affection in his voice, your cheeks flushing as you shake your head. The feeling of his hand on your cheek lingers for a moment. “I just saw them knock you out, and I sort of snapped.” you admit looking down at the ground. He smiles at your sudden shyness. “Well damn. I should get hurt more often…”

You reach out and slap his arm lightly, whispering “shut up” under your breath. “I’m serious! I like this side of you!” He exclaims with a tiny laugh. “I think you just have brain damage.”

#wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you

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mikeyelistsukasa · 9 months

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Hello, I hope you are feeling well :)

Is it all right If I request a HanaKou oneshot? Basically the prompt is that both Hanako and Kou are fighting an apparition, It’s about to deal a devastating blow to Kou before Hanako quickly jumps in front of him and ends up getting hurt instead. Kou ends up panicking a lot in spite of the fact that Hanako is a ghost and is technically well, already dead.

I hope you have a good day ^^

Your wish is my command lol !~

(My bad i was rlly sick and lots of things going on in life)

Id die for you!

Hanako and Kou waved their goodbye’s to Yashiro as Kou told her that he wants to stay a bit longer at school to check if the school is safe from any other bad apparations.

“I bet on a box of doughnuts that you said that only to stay longer with meeee~” Hanako replied wiggling his eyebrows while grinning

“Oh shut up” Kou was clearly flustered. What’s worse is Hanako wasn’t fully wrong

They entered the school.checked for anything that felt unusual and then they went to the bathroom and decided to play some cards with the mokke since Kou decided one or two rounds wouldn’t hurt before he would go home. Kou must admit it actually felt creepy but also peaceful to stay late at school while noone is here except him and Hanako.

Suddenly the whole school started to shake as the cards flew down. kou immediately grabbed his weapon as Hanako followed him.

The shaking felt like it was from outside so they quickly went out and there They saw a big…no HUGE skeleton.

“W-wha i-is that a?…”

“Gashadokuro” Hanako interrupted as he got into a position to fight with Kou

“HOW AM I EVEN GONNA REACH HIM I CANT FLY LIKE YOU”

Hanako shrugged with his shoulders “You’ll figure out something eventually”

“Wow thx how supportive…” Kou said under his breath as Hanako flew off to attack the skeleton

Hanako’s attacks distracted the spirit as Kou noticed he can climb up the skeleton’s arm and thats exactly what he did. He quickly climbed up while trying to keep his balance. He eventually reached till the head as he with all force plugged his weapon inside the spirit’s eye making the skeleton be in huge pain as he shook Kou off his shoulder making Kou fall to the ground. “KOU!” “I-im alright. Im alright” Kou said finally opening his eyes as he saw the skeleton raise a fist and about to land on Kou. Kou quickly closed his eyes ready to take the damage as he suddenly felt himself getting pushed away and a loud thud be heard. He opened his eyes as he saw Hanako’s arm under the spirit’s fist

“H-HANAKO!” Kou quickly stood up as electricuted the spirits wrist making the skeleton back away.

“H-hanako??? Hanako say something!!” Kou shook Hanako aggressively very worried about him

“G-geez im alright stop shaking me…” Hanako said while coughing a little and shaking off the dust

“Why did you do that?! I could’ve taken the hit.”

Hanako frowned at that. “That hit could’ve been the DEATH of you Kou. I can’t have that. Im already dead so it doesn’t matter”

“But-“

“NO BUT’S…you Don’t have to play the hero in-front of me. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to y-“

Hanako was interrupted as Kou suddenly hugged him taking him off guard

“You’re right…im not immortal like you. I just wanted to proof that im also strong and don’t have to be treated like a little toddler…”

Hanako gently hugged Kou back

“I understand”

“I owe you one”

They suddenly had to break away their hug as the spirit landed another attack and they both quickly dodged

“Now let’s finish off this ugly beast”

Kou nodded in agreement as they both went to finish the spirit off.

After about 20 minutes they found the weak spot of gashadokuro making them finish off the spirit with ease

“We did it!” Kou said happily as they both gave eachother a high five. Seeing Kou so happy after defeating a spirit made Hanako’s heart always flutter for some reason.

“Sooooooo about that thing where you said you owe me one~”

“Hm? Yeah i said that. Any idea already?”

Hanako wiggled his eyebrows with a smirk as Kou frowned and pushed him playfully

“Drop it with that look. Alright alright I’ll bake you doughnuts tomorrow”

“Yaaaaaaaay~” as Hanako hugged him from behind tightly making Kou end up blushing a little as always

Thank you for your request please visit again! <3

#tbhk #hanakou #hanako x kou #tbhk fanfic #jshk #tbhk kou #tbhk hanako #jshk kou #jshk hanako

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charbway · 2 years

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how most of my tf2 gameplay posts start out: heavy is more than just shooting a gun and here's why *entire essay about the importance of good gamesense, positioning, and patience*

ive said you need to jumpscare people before and that is true, but in order to do that you need to be able to predict where people are and when/how they're going to fight you if they decide to engage.

example: if you're fighting a soldier & you both lose a good chunk of health, the soldier will usually try to retreat. so it'd be relatively safe to unrev and find a healthpack/eat your sandvich before he or anyone else tries to fight you again. (if he doesn't retreat i'd say just hold your ground and try to move as unpredictably as possible, projectiles are easier to dodge than hitscan even as heavy. you could also try to reposition in order to dodge better but it'd probably be risky to unrev like i said earlier)

scouts almost always retreat, but tend to show up again sooner to try and take their opponents by surprise. i've learned that staying revved for a bit after a scout leaves a fight is usually a lot safer than unrevving and trying to heal, since i can kill them when they come back as long as my tracking is on point. i've literally been in fights w/ scouts where i've been left with like 3hp and the thing that saved me was staying revved, repositioning to somewhere they wouldn't expect me to be (usually around a corner/against a wall/away from any health packs bc they would expect me to try and get health back,) and then killing them when they come back bc they expect me to be unrevved or eating a sandvich. then i unrev & heal once i know it's safe lol

now i am thinking abt the time that one of my friends (who mains scout) tried playing heavy for a bit & they died a lot & hated it bc their scout brain was telling them to initiate fights when that's not what heavy is designed for. if you try to do that as heavy you will get punished bc people can see you coming and you have no real way to outmaneuver a bunch of people who get the jump on you first. scout can just run away from bad situations, heavy can't really do this because his size/lack of movement speed makes him really easy to focus down and kill. (plus if you're trying to get away from something you have to unrev your gun, which makes you even more vulnerable)

ik heavy has 300 health and that's supposed to cover for his lack of mobility, but it rly doesn't again bc of how easy he is to hit. this isn't a complaint tho, i think it's a good thing actually since it makes him more challenging, but a lot of people will use that to say heavy is op or that he's supposed to be a damage sponge. 3 direct pipe bombs can kill a heavy at full health, which wouldn't be hard for a decent demo to land on a heavy, even if he's unrevved. there is so much Big Damage in tf2 that the idea of him being a damage sponge is like 🤨 to me. i think heavy functions his best when he's acting as a sort of bodyguard for his team, while the generalists (soldier/demo/scout/medic) lead pushes. my opinion might change once i start playing competitive tho so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. it's 5 am and i don't know how to end posts

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #heavy

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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ruined, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Why is there a mostly shirtless man in your bedroom and why is it Kim Namjoon's, your roommate's, fault? All you want to do is play League of Legends, not be visually attacked by ridiculously attractive Jeon Jungkook as his six friends perform living room karaoke at the top of their very drunk lungs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; classic Namjoon ripping clothes; you don't have to know how to play LoL, I explain most of it; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, begging, scratching / marking, nipple play, edging / orgasm denial, handjob, (unintentional?) voyeurism, little bit of cum-eating, choking, cowgirl, cock warming); non-idol!BTS – purple-haired, kind-of-a-brat, sub!Jungkook x gamer, noona, dom!reader, ft OT6 being chaotic in the background XD

@yn-the-reader linked me in this and I was already writing about him. a prophet, maybe? XD

“WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”

You died.

Not literally, but also literally.

“Fuck!”

Now you had thirty-seven seconds of gray screen to figure out why the fuck Jeon Jungkook had busted into your bedroom on this cheerful night with his black dress shirt three-quarters of the way unbuttoned, revealing most of his – oh, sweet Satan, very muscular – pecs and the upper half of his abs. He was holding something in his hands, looking helpless and sad, while you were panic buying Liandry's Anguish and experiencing a special form of anguish yourself.

“Noona, um–”

That’s right, because you were in the middle of a League of Legends game, playing Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace, also known as half-snake lady or the lamia of the champion roster or a mean version of Monster Musume’s Miia (if you know, you know, and if you don’t, be glad you don’t). Your roommate was having friends over after going drinking. All this was fine and dandy with you, because you were going to spend all night wearing headphones and playing League of Legends, therefore ignoring the outside world, until the outside world came to bother you in the form of Kim Namjoon’s – your roommate’s – mostly shirtless friend Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t mostly shirtless most of the time, only right now.

“Noona, Namjoon-hyung ripped my shirt…” Jungkook whimpered hesitantly, chewing on his lip. He looked awkward and distraught despite his long dark purple hair giving him a rather fierce, bad-boy look.

Namjoon was a great roommate. He was smart, conversational, and insightful. A chat with him usually led to an enriching, open-minded perspective. He was relatively clean, considerate, communicative, nonjudgmental, fun to be around, and only set the kitchen on fire twice.

The second time was your fault.

You shouldn’t have let Namjoon in the kitchen the second time.

Also, Namjoon with his friends was a wildly chaotic time. All of his friends, especially drunk, were fucking nuts. Normally, they were probably relatively calm people (maybe not Kim Seokjin or Jung Hoseok, they were very excitable), but together they were a mess. You often wondered how they could function as a group.

Currently, however, you were trying to collect your brain cells as you had mere seconds before respawning onto the platform and were forced to play again. Timing in League of Legends was very important. Seconds can mess up wave management of minions and wave mismanagement can lead to game losses if you weren’t careful. The nuances of the game were often ignored by casual players.

You were, in short, a nerd about it.

“Fucking s-shit, what h-happened?” you sputtered out, turning back to your screen, unable to look at mostly shirtless Jungkook because he was MOSTLY SHIRTLESS. Honestly, he had quite nice pecs, and you should not be thinking about that, but it was incredibly distracting, just like how it used to be distracting when Namjoon was shirtless, but several years of living with him made you accustomed to his impressive pectoral muscles, to the point where you could joke about them with him.

But this was not Namjoon – this was his younger friend Jungkook and you had no idea Jungkook was ripped, mostly because you didn’t pay attention to Namjoon’s friends.

There were too many of them and you were too introverted for that.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed my shirt and it ripped and I managed to find all the buttons, but, but…”

Cassiopeia respawned on the platform and you couldn’t ignore the snake lady any longer. You had to play the game because four random people on your team were counting on you and you couldn’t exactly type, sorry, there’s a hot man in my room with his shirt practically off and I don’t know what to do with my life, so you had to suck it up and play the damn game.

Right-clicking and keeping your eyes only on your computer monitor.

Half-listening to that trembling, silvery voice coming up behind you, making your hairs stand on end even though all he was doing was dumping the tiny buttons on your desk.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself.

“Can you repair it? Please? My mom bought me this shirt and Namjoon-hyung said you can sew, so maybe you can sew them back on? Please?”

“Yes, Jungkook, I can, just not right now, I’m in the middle of a game,” you rambled, suddenly trading damage with the enemy Viktor, trying to avoid the laser from the Machine Herald, swearing under your breath as you stutter-stepped and stunned him, poisoning him quickly enough with your abilities to avoid dying. “I will help you, I just – fucking shit, get the fuck away from me Udyr, fuck!”

“Wow, you curse a lot, noona. It’s kind of funny.”

“I – fuck– I mean, sometimes, and what are you guys doing out there? It sounds like a deranged cabaret club,” you remarked, ticking your head towards the direction of your bedroom door.

“Karaoke!” Jungkook replied brightly, still standing behind you, why was he standing behind you, it was freaking you out a little, but Ocean Dragon was being taken and a team fight was about to happen, so you had to ignore it and support your teammates in chasing down the enemy support.

Seokjin hit a high note that was so shrill that you heard it through your headphones.

“… Wow, he’s got some lungs on him.”

“Do you wanna join us, noona?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Neither can we.”

“Pretty sure all of you can sing better than I can, even Yoongi and Namjoon. I’m fucking terrible.”

“I’m not that good.”

You barely survived with thirty hit points after that debacle of a team fight, but your team had the dragon and you all were slowly on your way to victory. You pressed the ‘B’ key to return to base, but kept your eyes on the screen, lest Udyr, the Spirit Walker and serial bear stun-slapping enemy jungler, ran your ass down and killed you.

“Jungkook, your voice is absolutely heavenly. Fucking beautiful. I’m sure every human being on Earth would want to be serenaded by you.”

Silence that you didn’t notice was awkward for him because you were too busy letting out a sigh of relief and building your next item, typing quickly to your teammates. You all were about to set up for vision around Baron Nashor, a large purple worm-dragon monster that when killed provided a significant, sometimes game-ending buff.

“R… really?”

“Yeah, and you’re handsome, gorgeous, and hot as hell too, so the whole damn package,” you responded absentmindedly, realizing the enemy were trying to split-push and trade objectives so you sent some pings to your teammate to take care of that as you accompanied the main group to help clear waves of minions.

Heat.

You heard him shift beside you and suddenly his face was next to yours, watching your screen closely.

Side-step, cast your ultimate, cast your Miasma ability to ground the enemies and prevent them from dashing away, switching between auto-attacking and piercing them with Twin Fang, all in the span of a mild freak-out because why was Jungkook so FUCKING close?

“Wow, you’re so good at League.”

“I’m Diamond rank, so not that good, but definitely better than all seven of you combined.”

“Haha, true, we’re all pretty bad,” Jungkook laughed next to your ear and, oh, shit, is warm breath feathered on your neck, why weren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something and not your self-cropped oversized band t-shirt and slinky black leggings, why weren’t you cocooned in layers of clothes, because you were quickly highly aware of how attractive Namjoon’s friends were.

To top it all off, you were in the middle of a game, so you just had to tolerate it and stay calm for the sake of your teammates and your elo.

“Maybe you could teach us and we’ll teach you something in return.”

“You guys don’t even listen to each other, why would I assume you all would listen to me?”

“I’d listen to you, noona.”

Now your team was doing the Baron dance, skirting in and out of vision, daring the other team to make a move, daring each other to make a mistake so the other could capitalize on it, slowly, slowly, watch the waves, watch the minimap. Careful. You could control the situation if you were calm and not too trigger-happy. Tension in your fingers and tension in your neck because your roommate’s friend was right next to your head, observing your every move.

His violet hair brushed your shoulder.

Soft, delicate strands against your skin.

“You’re more experienced, so you would know what to do.”

Your support snap-engaged a fight and you were immediately in the zone, right clicking rapidly, cycling through your abilities, keeping track of the opponents’ spells, determined not to let any of them get away, following your teammate’s calls and not hesitating, because hesitation as death and loss, and you were so close to winning you could taste it, going after it with passionate vigor and a slow-forming grin, seeing and hearing the in-game announcer declaring, QUADRA KILL.

You didn’t kill all five of them because someone took the pentakill from you.

You might have cared about that except your ear exploded into clapping as Jungkook excitedly applauded for you, cheering you on, reminding you that a mostly shirtless man was standing right next to you.

Thanks, Namjoon, you thought sarcastically.

“Wow, you played that so well, dodging the Viktor ult and stunning three people like that–”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliments, busying yourself with your team killing Baron. You didn’t usually have someone commenting on your games. Your eyes flickered to the small buttons on your desk.

Especially not a mostly shirtless guy.

Mostly shirtless hot guy.

Back to screen, seeing your jungler’s typed instructions, suggesting you all to destroy as many structures as you could and then prepare for the next fight for Ocean Dragon Soul and – oh? Your eyebrows raised as the screen abruptly jerked to the enemy base, the nexus inside exploding into shiny gem-like fragments that became the VICTORY banner.

“They surrendered?” you uttered with surprise, clicking on the CONTINUE button. “Why?”

Your eyes flickered to the kill score.

“Oh, thirty-two to nine… maybe that’s why….”

Your team had the nine deaths and the opponent team had thirty-two so, well, maybe that’s why they surrendered the game.

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Jungkook pouted as you clicked on the damage screen. Second most damage. Okay, you could take that. You were a little distracted.

“So, about your problem–”

You spun around to, ack, realize that, yes, Jungkook’s shirt was still flapped wide open to expose his chest like an unwrapped piece of caramel candy. He seemed to realize it too, making a surprised face and yanking the sides closed, as if you hadn’t gotten a damn eyeful already.

“I can resew the buttons back on, but you should borrow a shirt from Namjoon in the meantime,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Because I, ah, can’t really sew it when you’re still wearing the shirt.”

“Oh… Oh, right, yeah.”

Then he started yanking his shirt out of his slacks.

UMMMMMMM.

Usually, you didn’t care about this stuff. Men were men. They had chests. But you had things you liked too. Just like how men like tits and ass, you liked well-built pecs and forearms. Actually, you appreciated a nice ass and thighs too. And cute faces. Fuck, you loved a cute face.

“Uh, Jungkook…”

He looked up, questioningly. Big round brown eyes, his violet bangs framing his chiseled jaw, parted pink lips, the small mole underneath his lower lip looking so, so kissable, quivering slightly.

Fuck, Jungkook had a cute face.

His shirt was very open.

Fuck, his lightly tanned skin.

He was hesitating around a button, his deft fingers flexed, ink black tattoos standing out on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Your legs were slightly spread, thighs flush to your gaming chair. Half a second and Jungkook’s eyes flickered back up to your face, pretending he hadn’t been looking.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you really just gonna strip in my room and walk out asking Namjoon for a shirt and hope none of the six guys think anything about it?”

His eyes shifted around your room. Bed with black sheets and black velvet duvet. Television with your gaming consoles. Your collection of character figurines from various games. Your black denim jacket hanging on a hook, covered in monotone patches that you had sewn yourself, mostly occult-themed, skeletons, skulls, cats, ghosts, potions, eyeballs, that kind of thing. Back to your desk.

Your legs.

Really staring at your thighs, hips, and crotch.

Up your torso, your hands, your exposed collarbones.

Your face.

Guarding his expression, testing the waters.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes darted away and back, teeth catching his lower lip. “I really am hoping you can fix my shirt.”

You watched his face carefully, the flare of darkness in those brown orbs, a hint of naughtiness, dancing with danger. Jungkook had a mischievous streak. You could tell by the way he interacted with his hyungs, listening but talking back, helping them with things but not without a roll of his eyes or a smart remark added, probably because all his friends were older and he was the youngest. He knew he could get away with it.

In short.

Brat.

“What would you like in return, noona?” Jungkook purred, smile dancing on his lips.

Honorifics were supposed to honor you. Show a sign of respect and all that shit.

All I wanted to do was play video games, you grumbled internally. Not suddenly have a thirst fest for one of Namjoon’s best friends. You narrowed your eyes a little, seeing the smirk on that perfectly shaped mouth. He’s not stopping either.

Outside your room, something fell with a loud crash. Probably Namjoon by the depth of that startled yelp. Everyone else started laughing and a very loud, cheerful melody was blasting from the living room television. Nobody was coming to investigate you and Jungkook.

Yet.

“Turn around and ask for a shirt,” you sighed, waving a hand. “Then take off your shirt in the bathroom and then, only then, do you come back and give me your dress shirt.”

You saw Jungkook frown, not expecting that as your answer.

“Oh. Okay.”

He seemed disappointed, lowering his hands.

The silky fabric of the dress shirt slid off his right shoulder, partly revealing his tattoo sleeve and fully revealing his right collarbone and shoulder.

You sucked in a breath, eyes flickering to it. Then his face. Then back to his body. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jungkook jumped, startled by the fallen fabric and reached over to grab the fallen collar. Your hand moved faster than you had time to think. You had good reaction time. It was the gaming obsession.

You slapped his hand down.

Jungkook squeaked, head snapping up, purple hair floating around him, gold chain on his neck glittering as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Strangely, his chain resembled your sterling silver choker that you were wearing right now, except you also wore another necklace with a circular white gold pendant with your zodiac sign.

Not that anyone was ever close enough to inspect it.

“N-Noona?” he breathed, sounding strangely winded.

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to do that. Your body reacted faster than your head.

Shit.

Fuck, he had a nice body. His pecs. Even had a nice dark nipple – well, he probably had two, but you could only see one at the moment – and it all trimmed down to a slim waist and shapely hips. You could tell because of his tailored black slacks. He had been wearing a blazer earlier in the evening too. It was probably on a chair somewhere in the apartment.

Shit.

What did Jungkook need to look so damn good for?

“Where did you guys go to be dressed like that?”

Yes, you were really just going to interrogate him with his shirt dangling off like that.

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, the tiny mole underneath bouncing up and down as he spoke. “We went to a fancy hotel rooftop bar to celebrate Yoongi-hyung’s award that he won at the music show for producing that song–”

“Ah, right, Namjoon mentioned that earlier today.” Dress code must have been black tie.

Those dark brown eyes found yours, observing you carefully.

“I would have liked to see you there, noona.”

You stopped staring at the tattoos on his bicep and made eye contact. Fuck. Those eyes. Sparkling with deviousness. Trying to see how far he could push your buttons.

“I wonder what kind of dress would you have worn?” he murmured, musing to himself. “I bet you would have looked hotter than any girl there.” Jungkook smiled, playful and boyish. He wasn’t being sleazy about it. Every word was light and honest. “A tight little black dress? Maybe bright red? Short, because you have incredible legs. It would be a crime not to show them off.” He was only complimenting you. His tone wasn’t trying to be suggestive.

Yet.

You didn’t close your legs. You had nothing to be shy about.

Instead, you leaned back in your gaming chair as if it was a throne, resting your left elbow on the armrest and your chin on two fingers, thighs wide open, and your other hand in between them, fingers curled inward to your inner thigh.

Jungkook’s pink lips curved ever higher, ever more roguish.

“Whatever you would have chosen, you would have looked so, so sexy.”

You ticked your head.

“I know.”

Because you did.

Look here, Jeon Jungkook, I’m here minding my own damn business and you’re here inserting yourself into my life, so if you can’t handle me knowing my self-worth, you can fuck right off.

He reached up and tucked a bit of his purple hair behind his right ear, grinning at you.

“You sure you don’t want anything from me?” he asked, a slight flicker of pink tongue between white teeth. “I can give first and then you can decide whether or not you want to help.”

Honestly, those sultry eyes could stop a heart.

You removed your hand from your chin, tapping the air with those two fingers in a dismissive manner.

“Hm.”

Outside, Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok were singing a soulful duet and Park Jimin was hooting at inappropriate moments to ruin the atmosphere as much as possible. That raspy, breathless laugh was Min Yoongi, who was probably doubled over on the floor in his expensive suit. Classic genius music producer of the year behavior right there.

Jungkook tucked his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeve falling down, revealing his blacked-out inner elbow. Mountains with a dark sky. It must have hurt, doing something like that. Still, he did it. For aesthetics?

You heard the smirk rather than seeing it, mostly because you were looking at his body.

“I would look so damn good on you, noona.”

Alright.

You closed your eyes slowly and reopened them to look directly into those dangerous, dangerous eyes.

“Lock the door.”

Not really an order. More of a statement. Jungkook could do it or not, you knew. He couldn’t be coerced to do anything. He did things because he wanted to do them. He was nice because he wanted to be nice. He was childish when he wanted to be childish.

And.

Jungkook was obedient when he wanted to be obedient.

He turned around, went to your bedroom door, and locked it.

Well then.

He came back and stood in front of you. A little closer now.

You cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

Jungkook smiled down at you. “I’m sure they will.”

You frowned, lowering your hand to tap the end of the armrest. “They’re going to think I started this.”

“You kind of did.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply. He grinned, taking a step closer.

“Because it’s not my fault you look so good,” Jungkook breathed, voice deepening, leaning down, your expression unchanging, not pulling back but not encouraging anything either. “Not my fault your body is hotter than a summer. Not my fault your confidence is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your thighs were still as open as his shirt.

Jungkook put his knee in between them.

His dress shirt was basically almost completely off his body now, falling off the left shoulder too and dangling off his forearms, exposed collarbones and shoulders, tan skin taut over muscle. A delicious body line, so fucking close to you that you could feel the heat. You still didn’t do anything. You weren’t going to do anything. You didn’t prompt this. You were simply minding your own business commanding a snake lady to victory, not expecting to get seduced by a mischievous bunny-like smile and a tiny black mole under a cute pout.

“I can’t help myself around you.”

You usually didn’t say more to Namjoon’s friends than a mere hello, not wanting to bother them with your presence. They were all men after all. You expected them to want bro time or whatever. Also, you were too busy being obsessed with men that didn’t exist in real life to pursue men that did exist in real life.

At least League of Legends had 3D models so no one could say you lived only the 2D lifestyle.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t partake when the dinner laid themselves out to be eaten. They often had to, because you wouldn’t pay attention otherwise.

Purple hair drifted into your vision, surrounding you in a curtain of violet and dark brown eyes, warm exhale and trembling pink lips, trapping you in Jungkook’s gaze, but you refused to relent, keeping your gaze even. Steady breaths to disguise your racing heart.

You kept your hands closed to prevent him from seeing your shaking fingers.

“Every time I see you, I want you to touch me,” he whispered, trying to hide the edge of nervousness by lowering his voice, enticing you to lean in to hear him better because someone was wiping a damn window in the living room outside your door or was that Kim Seokjin laughing?

There was no difference.

Jungkook’s forehead touched yours and you stopped thinking about Seokjin.

“I just want you to feel me up, rip my clothes off, and fuck me until I can’t think straight. Use me, abuse me, wreck me, ruin me,” he shuddered, definitely thinking about it, and one blink and you spied the obvious tent in his pants.

“Maybe I’m a lazy girl,” you finally said, touching your nose to his, inhaling his breath, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of fruitiness, and that hint of cologne, fresh, clean, and intense. Something else too. Musk, maybe his pheromones or something like that. Whatever it was smelled fucking delicious, just like you. What did your perfume smell like? Spiced fire blended with addictive sweetness.

You shrugged casually.

“Maybe I’m a pillow princess.”

Jungkook chuckled.

“I can tell you’re not.”

You had to smirk.

Of course, you weren’t.

You closed your thighs around his knee and squeezed, raising to your tiptoes. He gasped softly, shivering at the simple touch of your soft thighs pressing around his muscular leg. It was disturbingly noisy out there, but here it was silent, pared down to your breathing and Jungkook’s breathing, mixing together, blazingly hot, closer, closer, doing the careful dance, daring each other to make the move that was so obviously going to happen.

“What are you gonna say when they ask you where you’ve been all this time?” you whispered, avoiding letting your lips brush against his.

“The truth.”

His tongue flickered out and barely touched your lips.

You didn’t make a sound.

Jungkook moaned, the sound drifting into your throat, and you could taste his desire.

“I tripped and fell into your lap.”

Your lips curved into a smirk.

He kissed you.

His hands on the armrests of your rolling chair, pushing it back into your desk, pressing his lips to yours, inhaling deeply, wanting to breathe you, wanting to taste you, wanting you, shivering as you finally touched him with your hands, but this was you, and your first touch wasn’t going to be wasted on a conventional innocent touch.

Your fingers closed in on his rock-hard erection and stroked him through his pants.

Jungkook moaned your name right in your mouth, eyes half-lidded, his violet hair encircling your face as he rolled his hips into your palm, whining deep in his chest.

“Fuck, yes, noona, play with me…”

You flitted your tongue between his lips and he chased it, begging you for more, and yet you continued to tease, light flicks between those soft pillows, nipping at them, even pushing up his lower lip so the tip of your tongue could draw a small heart around that mole, kissing it, so gentle, so delicate. His entire body shook, your hand palming his hardness through his pants, nails scraping against his balls, caressing all of it, acting like you owned it. Jungkook was certainly humping your hand like you did.

“You only want me because I didn’t want you,” you taunted, not bothering to hide your smirk and your slight disapproval.

“That’s not true,” he panted, attempting to get you to touch his chest, pushing you back into your chair, and yet you kept the fingers of your free hand on the cusp of what he wanted, heat close but no contact, causing him to whimper every time your fingernails barely nicked his skin. “I want you because you’re pretty, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

Hm, that sounded familiar.

“I want you because I love watching you play your favorite games,” he chuckled, kissing the side of your lips, nose to nose. “I want you because I love that little smirk you make when you do something good. I want you because I love that aggressiveness that comes out and how you seem to lose your filter. Shit, it’s so fucking hot when you’re focused. Makes me wanna see your face when you’re pinning me down and having your way with me. Makes me want to obey you and disobey you at the same time, because I want you to reward me and punish me, I just can’t decide, fuck, you make life so hard for me.”

He punctuated hard by violently humping your hand, rattling your desk with his force.

Outside you heard Namjoon yelling “CANNONBALL” and throwing himself onto that giant gray furry beanbag you paid far too much for about six months ago. It was now a household party favorite, due to its massive size and fluffiness. At the moment, it sounded like a pile of six guys in semi-formal clothing was beginning and, instead of watching this heap of hot dudes being constructed, you were making out with the seventh guy’s face and grabbing his dick.

You’ll take this trade.

You felt Jungkook’s hands groping around, undoing his pants and the zipper, trying to get you to touch more, more, desperate for you to be all over him.

“P-Please… please, I don’t know when they’re going to notice…” he pleaded. “You’re so close, so close, ah, I can’t think, please…”

“Shh…” you soothed. “The door is locked.”

Your fingertips finally touched his chest, not disappointed in the slightest when you touched those delicious-looking pecs. They felt just as nice under your palm, his pounding heart and wanton moan vibrating up your arm.

“Aren’t you a needy little brat trying to distract me from my games, hm?”

Your fingertips hooked over the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to face the consequences, Jungkook.”

You said his name like a delicious sweet about to be eaten, growl in your throat as you yanked down his underwear, capturing his lips, robbing him of his cries as you clawed down his chest, grasping his cock and pumping him, long, complete strokes from base to tip, curling your fingers around his balls, juggling them with your fingers teasingly as he squirmed and groaned. Your free arm shot around his back, digging your nails into his spine, not letting him get away. His black dress shirt was falling, falling to your floor, his bluish-purple hair in your face and his strong hands on your shoulders, sliding down, kneading your breasts through your clothes, whining that you were still wearing a bra – of course, you were, six dudes were coming over and they didn’t need to see your magnificent nipples on display, although clearly one of them wanted to see – and he was trying to get to the hem of your shirt, but you smacked his hands away, building the pressure and speed, pre-cum leaking between your fingers and adding slickness to lessen the dry friction.

Fuck, you could smell him and he smelled so fucking good.

“Noona, please…” Jungkook gasped, hands on the armrests of your chair, tipping his head back at the pleasure, pants at his fucking knees, chest, crotch, thighs on display. “This is… embarrassing…”

He meant him being mostly naked and you being dressed.

You shrugged, acting indifferent. “Not for me.”

He whimpered at your words, so noticeably dominant despite not using an aggressive or commanding tone. Either that or he was very invested in you jacking him off. You suspected it was a combination of the two, considering how eagerly his cock twitched when you answered.

“What should I do, Jungkook? Should I let you cum? Or should I play with you and stop, make you put your clothes back on and walk out there, desperate to be finished off?” you mused aloud, running your nails up his back, not that hard, but he leaned back into it so they sank into him, wordlessly begging you to do it harder, so you did, setting your jaw and scratching at his back, forcing him back into position. His cock throbbed in your hand, pulsating wildly.

Hm, he really loved it, huh.

“P-Please… wanna cum, please don’t be mean…” he gasped, thrusting his hips into your punishingly tight grip.

“Hm, why does it matter? You’ll just run to the bathroom and finish yourself off anyway, right?”

“Want you to do it, please,” he begged, his long hair curling around his jaw, dark purple locks framing the sharpness, lashes fluttering as you rubbed your thumb against the underside of the head, smearing pre-cum over the slit. “Your hand feels so good, so fucking good, better than I thought, please, I need you to touch me or I can’t get off, please…”

You removed your hand.

Jungkook cried out in denied despair, pitch hiking, the sinful sound clearly audible despite the debaucherously loud ruckus outside your bedroom door that included not one, but two people howling like werewolves for some unknown reason. At this point, you were mildly curious.

But you had a job to do.

He grabbed the front of your shirt, almost sobbing with need. Somehow his violet hair was a mess and you hadn’t even touched it. It cascaded over one of his eyes, an indigo curtain, the other chocolate orb shaking and pupil dilated, black prominent in the dark brown.

“Please don’t–”

You shoved two fingers from your right hand into that pleading mouth and raised your left.

He choked, gagging a little on your fingers.

You stuck your tongue out and licked your palm, slathering it with a thick layer of slick saliva.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the dirty action and then rolled back into his head as you wrapped your hand around his aching cock once more, now covered in saliva, swiftly and fervently jacking him off, hard, fast, tight, nearly choking his cock, pushing his chin up and his chest to your hungry mouth, tongue and teeth and lips, all over those dark nipples hardening under your persistent touch, heedless to his rising moans, so very obvious now what was happening in your bedroom.

It didn’t bother you at all. Jungkook walked in here and asked you to wreck and ruin him, so you did exactly what he asked you to do, leaving harsh bite marks and slippery saliva all over his soft skin, your perfume rubbing off onto his body, coating his chest in your scent and his pulsating thick length with your spit, and he was so fucking hard that you were impressed, feeling his mouth suck on your fingers desperately and wetly, your name a messy garble above your head.

“Fuck, yes, umpf, oh fuck, I’m so close, so close, gonna cum, goona cum for you…!”

“Jungkook?”

You had no idea who called his name through your door, because the next second Jungkook was pitching forward and shooting his cum up your thigh and chest, thick white strings painting your leggings and band t-shirt, soaking into the fabric and creating a sticky mess on your skin, your head lifting in response to his movement to avoid knocking into him, your fingers sliding out of his lips, strings of saliva snapping as they left, and suddenly Jungkook’s face was in your face, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss, rutting into your hand to increase the sensitivity, shoulders and hips flinching, whimpering gratitude and ecstasy into your mouth, his hands in your hair, kissing you deeper, more ravenously, ignoring the questioning voices, lost in the pleasure of his orgasm.

You heard Namjoon say outside your door, “I think he made his move.”

You asshole, at least warn me, you thought irritably.

“You’re so good… so good, exactly what I need… I knew you would be… fuck…”

You thrust your tongue into his lips once and backed off, chuckling as he whined for more.

“Go ask for a shirt.”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, violet hair flying everywhere. Your hand was still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, his cum dripping onto your wrist. His ears were turning red.

“I can’t… They know something is going on…” he mumbled, scooting closer to you, as if your body heat could somehow mask the fact that you just jacked him off with six of his friends standing outside your bedroom door whispering.

“Maybe you wanted them to know.”

You squeezed his ass and he trembled, clutching your shoulders.

“Easy way to tell them that you want to be owned by me, right?”

You could tell by the way his eyes were darting around rapidly that the thought crossed his mind more than once.

“Jungkook.”

You said it loud enough for a keen ear to hear it if they were really eavesdropping. You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes immediately fixating on yours because of your tone.

In control, not to be questioned.

“Get on your knees.”

Dead silence outside your bedroom.

“B… but…”

His cheeks flushed pink.

You took his chin and pulled him down to your face, murmuring to that mole under his lips, pecking it daintily, almost innocently, his wispy moan drifting over your nose. Your words were barely above a whisper, only for him.

“You made a mess. Clean it up.”

You stroked Jungkook’s chin with your thumb, your other hand tucking his long hair behind his ear.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, so be a good boy for me right now and I’ll let you be a bad boy in bed.”

His head tilted and Jungkook whispered your name into your mouth, drenched with desire.

You smirked, stroking his jaw fondly.

He got to his knees, in between your open thighs, leaning forward, subservient eyes on your face as his pink tongue extended, licking at his own cum staining your clothes, eyes closing at your hand on the top of his head, not directing the movement, but reminding him who was in charge here, reminding him with nails in his scalp that he was going to be fucked until he couldn’t think straight.

Used, abused, wrecked, ruined.

“I don’t wanna.”

“We both know you do.”

“But I want to fuck you,” Jungkook protested, speaking softly because everyone was sleeping, or at least it seemed that way, not that either you or Jungkook cared, because you were forcing him to his knees on your bed, pushing his torso back, nails digging into his chest, towering over him, his naked body already covered in your bites and scratches, focused on his inner thighs and chest, none on his neck because that’s where he wanted it the most.

And you knew it.

“Noona, please…”

He said please a lot for someone who did not, in fact, want to be pleased, but tortured.

You grabbed him by the chin, cocking an eyebrow.

His hands were behind him, arms shaking as they held him up, shivering delightfully under your petrifying gaze.

“Please what? Hm? Saying please when you come crawling into my room, begging for dirty things with your friends right outside, saying please when you interrupt me and distract me, jeopardizing my chances to win my game?”

You leaned in close, you knowing you were only crafting a scene, him knowing that you didn’t actually care, but Jungkook wanted to hear the words, wanted you to put that malice in your tone to caress his ears, wanted you to cannibalize his sanity and put him in a different headspace, his cock already responding to it, bobbing in the air, purple-red and achingly hard from multiple orgasms, and he still wanted more.

“Saying please so you can say please when you’re under me, helplessly begging me to let you cum?”

You could hear his whines vibrating under your fingertips, pupils blown wide, lower lip trembling, begging you already, such a needy little thing, those lovely brown eyes full of submission, muscles tense with anticipation, every passing second spiraling him into increased frustration, because instead of doing anything, you were only smirking wider and wider, pushing his head back.

“Well? Tell me if you’re a dirty boy or not. Maybe I’ll do what you want.”

His violet hair cascaded to his shoulder blades, his low moan coursing through your fingertips and the heated air of your bedroom.

“Y… Yes, I’m a d-dirty boy…”

“Noona,” you prompted.

Just because you could.

His lips curved into an open smile, two of your fingers hooked over his lower lip, fingertips rubbing his tongue. Your thumb nail pressed into his mole.

“Noona.”

You ripped the condom open with your teeth, which was not advisable unless you were the kind of person that practiced that for hours on end, spending an obscene amount of money on unused condoms to perfect your technique, because nobody wants a broken condom or lube in their teeth. Why would you want to learn such a thing? You were a stickler for details. A perfectionist in perfecting a perfect display of raw dominance.

You spat out the torn corner onto Jungkook’s chest and he whimpered, unashamedly amazed.

Your left hand removed the condom from the package and your right slid out of his mouth and encircled his neck.

You inspected the condom, lazily turning it to the correct position, fingers pressed to the sides of his neck, leaving plenty of space for his trachea between your thumb and forefinger. You didn’t bother looking at his face. Instead, you spread your legs, poised and naked over him and his throbbing cock.

Your right hand started choking him.

Your left hand started rolling the condom down his thick, hard length.

Your name leaked out of his lips in a thin gurgle, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Say please, Jungkook.”

A sharp, distinct order.

“P… Please…” he gasped out, chest shuddering.

Your hand tightened around his throat and your pussy clenched around his cock as you forced yourself down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck…”

You didn’t bother asking if he liked it. His vicious fisting of your sheets and trembling body, cries and cock included, told you everything you needed to know. You only watched the color of his cheeks, knowing there were limits to how long you could choke him. Therefore there was no time to be wasted, already starting your favorite pace, rough and hard, filling yourself with that delicious cock built to take your abuse, jaw set, gripping his throat, blood pounding under your fingertips, slapping hips to crotch, heat sparking though your veins, hotter, hotter, your smirk growing more and more smug, tongue tracing your lips as you witnessed Jungkook’s descent into sin, raising his head so he could watch you bounce on his cock with hazed brown orbs, mouth open, tongue lolling out, circulation thinning, purple hair wild around that cute, distressed face.

You let up the pressure on his neck, dark snicker rumbling in your chest.

“This pussy worth it, brat?”

The rush of missing blood into his brain, the suffocating pleasure of your pulsating walls wrapped around his twitching cock, your authoritative growl and merciless words tearing through him – you saw it all taking over Jungkook, forced to respond honestly from pure instinct because there was no time to compile pretty words or a smart comeback.

“Yes, noona, yes, I love it, I love it, this brat fucking loves what you do to him…”

You immediately choked him again and slapped your pussy onto his cock like you were whipping him.

His eyes rolled back and a wild moan tore out of his chest, cut off by your hand.

The bed creaked under you, bearing the weight of your roughness.

“I know you love it,” you snarled, leaning in, fucking him into your bed with vigor, straining his knees, so uncomfortable and so comfortable for him at the same time, pain and pleasure, clearly something he craved and loved from how hard he was. “You said you need me to touch you or you can’t get off.”

You knew that couldn’t be true.

Jungkook probably got off hundreds of times thinking about you, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ecstatic about you violently riding his dick right now.

His teeth sank into his swollen lower lip, staring at you through his lashes, his voice a thin whisper laced with insatiable need.

“I can’t cum without you anymore.”

You removed your hand.

Your hips stopped abruptly, fulling sheathing his cock inside you.

“No!”

His shout was so loud and desperate that you had to conceal your surprise, not expecting the frantic ferocity of his tone, nearly an agonized sob as he grabbed your upper arms in a crushing grip, his indigo locks crashing into his high cheekbones, sticking to his sweaty face and sharp jaw. It took everything in you to stay calm, everything to not give in and let him have what he wanted. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was knowing the role you were playing, maybe it was the sadistic side of you, who the fuck knew, but there was only a beat of hesitation, a second of you staring into those beautiful dark brown eyes, so perfect.

Just perfect.

Perfectly wrecked, willing to do anything in this moment for you to continue.

Before he could utter a peep of a plea, you shook out of his grip and seized his head, crashing his lips onto your neck.

Jungkook bit you.

Instant, searing pain, taking out all his sexual frustration on your neck, sucking at the skin, hot tongue lapping, groaning, moaning, half-crying because you didn’t move. You just sat on his dick and forced his mouth onto your neck, gleefully savoring his despair, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the pleasure, his hands and nails digging into your waist, his teeth latched to the side of your throat, his stiff cock shuddering inside you, your tight heat keeping him hard but not letting him cum, repeatedly squeezing the engorged head brutally, driving him insane.

Insane.

You could feel his lips move, but you muffled his words, pushing his head into your neck.

Please.

Deep inhale, his wonderful scent filling your nose.

Please.

Riding the high that was Jungkook’s desire for you, fingers tangled into violet strands.

Please.

He felt so, so good, spoon-feeding the dom in you with his tiny whimpers and distraught sniffles.

“P… Please…”

You pressed your lips to his hair, murmuring his name sweetly.

“Jungkook.”

No quiver to your tone, only serene calm.

“Noona…”

His hands slid up your back as your hips began to rock, slow, so painfully slow, building the frenzy layer by layer, his hardness swelling inside you, his soft lips pressed to his hickey onto your neck, even more turned on because he knew you let him mark you, he knew in this moment you were his and only his, everything he wanted and more, his hips rising to meet yours, deepening your thrusts, matching your force, burying his face into your skin and your scent, wanting nothing more than your command over his body.

You turned his head, tucking his hair behind one ear, speaking dark whispers into that curve.

“You look the best when on your knees for me, Jungkook.”

He shivered, your name falling sloppily from his lips, drunk from your power and lost in his service.

You let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders instead, putting all of your weight onto him, now letting yourself chase it, chase the orgasm that you had been building for yourself all this time, letting yourself feel Jungkook and feel the full force of the pleasure he gave you, because, yes, of course, you served him first before you, even if it didn’t seem like it.

Because when it came down to it, Jungkook came to you, opening himself petal by petal to show you his vulnerable side, testing the waters, hoping, wishing, praying that maybe, just maybe, you were the kind of person that he was expecting, wanting, needing, and you, knowing how difficult that was because, well, you had made it difficult, only focusing on games and not on those longing eyes that watched you whenever you came into his view.

Eyes that you looked into now.

Half-lidded, glazed over, fucked-out, still honest.

His large hands were still on your waist, holding you to him as you rode him with furious slaps, muscles flexed in his chest and arms, tattoos on his right arm tense and taut from holding this position for so long. He looked so good. Felt so good. Had an amazing cock.

And fuck.

Jungkook had a cute face.

You genuinely smiled.

“I’ll take care of everything,” you drawled, injecting your words with conviction and adoration.

That did it.

His lips parted, low groan emitting from his throat as his head tipped back, purple waterfalling onto his back, thrusting up into you and shooting into the condom with fierce jolts, unable to hold back any longer, his entire length flinching uncontrollably, sweet whimpers at his release, feeling sorry that he didn’t let you cum first, but that didn’t matter, because you rode through it, already there, falling, falling, your sigh like laden smoke as your orgasm slammed into you, welcoming the bolts of cruel pulses flying through you, concentrated onto your core, Jungkook’s moans hiking into pitched ecstasy at the convulsing clenches of his oversensitive, overused cock, arms embracing you tightly, hugging you for dear life, chest to chest, pounding heart against yours.

Your fingers tangled into his hair.

His hand fitted around your head.

Lips to lips and you took care of everything, claiming that mouth as yours, holding him up even though you were the one in his lap, your kiss onto that perfect mole under that pretty pout, cherishing every mumble of your name, lowering him onto your pillows, soft kisses in between. You took care of everything, lifting yourself off him, chuckling as he whined, pawing for you to come back, but you rapped his knuckles and calmed him, removing the condom and cleaning him off gently with a towel, soft kisses in between because he wanted the attention, deliberately not closing his eyes until you crawled back into the bed, tucking the covers around you and him, Jungkook immediately turning and yanking you into his chest, nose against your skin.

“Who’s the pillow princess?” you teased, ruffling his long violet locks.

His lips pressed onto your hickey, his mark on you, and he sighed in content, drifting into sleep.

In the morning, you found a pile of five guys in the living room sleeping in various positions on the giant gray furry beanbag and the sofa. Jungkook was in your bed, passed out. The last guy, Min Yoongi, was in Kim Namjoon’s room, sleeping on his bed, because he was a smart man and took advantage of a perfectly good bed that five drunk hooligans undoubtedly forgot about.

You chuckled and rubbed your neck as you brushed your teeth, seeing yourself and the large purple hickey Jungkook had made last night in the bathroom mirror.

You went back to your room after retrieving the sewing basket from the living room, spending the morning calmly stitching the small buttons back onto his black dress shirt as the seven guys in your apartment continued to snore away.

Then you went back to playing League of Legends.

Ah, Cassiopeia, I had an eventful evening, but I have returned to you.

drabble morning-after hungover breakfast

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Whenever I write these it’s always when I have a pile of requests on my desk that I said I was going to get to but never do. I even missed a day yesterday because I crashed and burned and slept the entire day haha. Might miss today too since I’m going out to see my mum.

This is like 90% crack and 10% actual content. I’m gonna post this and proceed to have shock therapy and wipe it from my memory.

I just want to be happy and it’s cold af where I live. I’ve also learned from maagdalen that Russia is insane with snow.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to asoundofdrop. Ty for the love on the Childe HCs hehe. Honestly, just the fact you tag everything blows my mind because I hate tagging so just seeing you do it with my mess of tags (back when I screamed my feelings before tumblr dropped the ban hammer on me) is like wow. That’s some next level effort, wish I had that haha;; I’m just gonna say this in advance, I am so sorry for the mess of tags I’m about to drop on this.

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz

@youaskedfurret @snowy224 @mayumintsu @tigerpriestess

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Xiao

Excuse me? What is this cold you speak of? He’s an adepti he doesn’t know what cold is. Is it a demon he’s not aware of? Should he go beat it into submission if that’ll make you feel better? He’s already gone with his spear and out to go slay this cold demon before you can explain what the hell temperature is.

By the time he’s back, he seems so proud of himself for killing a dragonspine yeti that you don’t have the heart to tell him that was literally not what you wanted or expected him to do. Your fingers are about to break their finger kneecaps. pLEASE sir just hold my hand.

Bad idea, he’s been outside in the cold and he’s not exactly wearing mittens so your fingers end up colder. But you’re finally holding his hand that you suck it up and cry when he does actually break your fingers because he doesn’t know what muscle control is.

Keqing

Ruthless business woman one second and then you show up, tell her you’re cold, and she’s reduced to flustered mother hen. All she has on her are these long sleeves that all Qixing wear. Would you like some warm milk? She knows you like your milk heated to a simmer right at 187.7975 degrees Fahrenheit.

Okay, first off, who measures in fahrenheit anymore this is China Liyue. Second off, how the hell does she know that and why is it so precise? She’s already throwing whatever Liyue duties she had back at the poor worker that has no idea what possessed the normally confident and admirable Keqing into this...creature. Making new plans for a heating system in Liyue while also coddling you.

Catch her outside at 3am pounding the snow ground, crying, as she curses Rex Lapis for making it so cold in Liyue when he’s not even the Cyro archon. Zhongli sneezed while looking over papers burning the 3am oil. Maybe he needs to go home before it gets too cold, he might be getting sick.

Diluc

God you’re such an idiot. Didn’t you see how hard the snow was falling? I can’t believe I married someone with 2 braincells. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What would father in the sky think if my partner died because of frost bite when I’m a goddamn pyro vision user? I can commit arson to make a make-shift fire place, I have the money for the damages.

Dilu- NO I DON’T NEED YOUR SHIRT. IT’S -20 DEGRESS. IT’S OKAY. YOUR COAT IS ENOUGH. PUT YOUR CLAYMORE AWAY WE CANNOT SET THE KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS HQ ON FIRE WE AREN’T EVEN NEAR THERE. KAEYA IS INSIDE- DILUC - NO COME BACK.

Your make shift fireplace is Kaeya’s “ugly” scarf. That’s it. That’s the post.

Amber

Oh you’re cold? It’s okay, here take her baron bunny to cuddle with while she lights a fire. She thinks she saw some boar’s in the forest, she can make her specialty and that should warm you right up! So sweet, so wholesome. Don’t worry this baron bunny won’t explode in your face, she tripled checked she wasn’t giving you a dancing bomb.

While you’re huddled around a summoning circle of baron bunny’s, nice and warm, is when she relaxes and joins you. She grins to herself and pats herself on the shoulder. See that haters, she can make her partner nice and happy without your #buffamberwhen.

Kaeya

You’re cold? Maybe you’ve just fallen so hard for him that whenever you think of him you get cold. He never knew you cared so much it’s so cut- okok you can stop hitting him now. He’ll offer his scarf if he had one but Diluc might have burned it but he does have his tit window.

Basically impenetrable, you could bounce bullets off it so naturally the cold bounces off. You have to tell him up front that he sound borderline crazy and the fbi are already at his door. The fbi is Diluc. So instead he offers his overcoat and asks you if you would like to join him in some cozy tavern that hopefully has heating.

It’s a nice and comforting experience until he drags you to Angel share and you know it’s just to 1v1 Diluc in the parking lot.

Scaramouche

lol perish

So naturally, you grab his ridiculous hat that he wears to compensate for his gremlin height and throw it like a frisbee.

Go fetch

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God, why is there no official content of you scaramouche you bitch, you’re ruining the aesthetic. This is why I only give you one point of dialogue. This isn’t even funny. It’s a therapy session. This entire post was just for me to say tit window because I didn’t get to say it in my last Kaeya fic.

Wow, I wonder which characters I like in genshin. Could it be “wow I hate everything and everyone don’t fucking touch me” male characters??? Could it be “Head strong but are secretly adorable” female characters?? Kaeya is only there because Diluc is there.

I had to redo all my headers because everyone was taking up so much space in their 240p quality. Keqing is the only one that actually stepped forward when it was picture day. I don’t have enough energy to care about sizing I’m sorry.

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the-littlest-goblin · 3 years

Note

fic prompt: shadowgast (obvs lol) and the idea of light as corruption or rot/decay

This was an interesting challenge! I did my best.

________________

It took less than a minute for the blindness to wear off, but fear can make time stretch and slow as much as any magic.

“There we go.”

Essek blinked and blinked as Caleb’s face came slowly back into focus. He’d known Caleb was nearby, could hear his voice whispering soothing reassurances and feel his calloused palm stroking Essek’s cheek, but it was still an enormous relief to see him there. Essek’s racing heartbeat calmed down, though it still fluttered due to Caleb’s closeness. He found that a much more pleasant sensation than the painful thud of panic against his ribs.

“Where—” Essek cleared his throat. “Where did you take us?”

“The Blooming Grove. I figured we could both use a cleric after that… encounter.”

Essek glanced around. Though the magical blindness left over from the assassin’s spell had faded, the sun shining overhead in the cloudless sky still marred his vision with spots. Realizing this, Caleb drew them both several feet back into the shade.

Now, the scenery came into view properly. They were indeed surrounded by forest and lush greenery, but this was not the familiar garden of the Blooming Grove; there was not a single gravestone around, and the Clay’s cozy cottage was nowhere in sight.

“Why—?”

Anticipating the question, Caleb cut him off. “I brought us a little ways away. I wanted to ensure we weren’t followed. Just in case.”

A shadow passed over his face that had nothing to do with the shade of the trees, and Essek was sure the expression was mirrored on his own face as he too recalled the week they had spent in the Grove, almost a year ago now, repairing the Clay’s home from the destruction wrought by those chasing Caleb.

“Thank you,” he said. Essek would never have forgiven himself if history repeated itself because of his enemies. Caleb nodded, understanding without Essek needing to explain.

“I think we are safe, though. You are still attuned, right?” Caleb lifted an orange pendant out from where it lay underneath his shirt, and Essek produced the matching one pressed against his own chest.

“Always.”

“Then there is no reason to think we were pursued. The Dynasty’s forces wouldn’t know to look for us here.” In contrast to his reassuring words, a note of fear still hitched in his voice. Essek nodded in confirmation.

“Good. Then we should go see if anyone is home who can lend us some healing. It will take a few minutes; can you walk?”

Breathing deeply through his nose, Essek leveraged himself up from the ground, bracing one hand against a tree for balance as he readjusted to the equipoise of his floatation. The movement stretched the tender burns covering his skin, and he winced.

Caleb, unable to help ease his pain, grimaced.

“What was that spell they used?” he asked, needing some detail to focus on other than Essek’s injuries and his own uselessness. “I have never seen it before.”

“It is a specialty of the Luxon. Common for priests and paladins in the Dynasty to use in worship, although I have never seen it utilized in combat before.”

Caleb thought back to the blinding, all-encompassing light that had emanated from the Dynasty assassin. Essek had gotten the brunt of it, but it had hit Caleb as well, burns spreading across his hands where he’d reached up to cover his eyes. It was not the scorching welts left behind by proximity to fire, with which Caleb was all too familiar, but rather the unique searing sensation of divine damage, which left no visible trace on the skin to account for the terrible pain of it.

“What possible use could that spell have outside of combat?”

“Well—” Essek wobbled, sent off balance as their path brought them into another sunny clearing. Instinctually, he reached out a hand, and Caleb grabbed it with both of his own. “I told you about the practice in Rosohna, where they lift the darkness over the city and worshippers give themselves to the light?”

“Yes.”

“This is along the same idea. A ritual display of radiant power—in that situation, no one is near enough to be harmed by the light, as we were.” He winced again. “But they do give themselves over to the blinding effect. It is sort of like a, um… trust exercise?” Essek sighed. “To be honest, I have never understood the logic behind most of the religious practices. It’s something about ‘the light will reveal what the eyes cannot see,’ or… something like that. Personally, I believe those sorts of rituals are responsible for the unusually high rate of long-term vision problems amongst Luxon clerics, but since most clerics are also the main healers within the city, no one has cared to look into the issue.”

Caleb’s gate slowed, and it took Essek a moment to realize he was staring at him.

“What?”

Caleb shrugged, a mirthless smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “The Dynasty is almost as fucked up as the Empire,” he laughed.

Essek raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You think?”

“I mean, I was aware of some of the… hypocrisies, within the Dynasty, on the big picture scale. But hearing you talk about it, I guess it just hit me. I am so used to the Empire’s corruption, anywhere else seems a utopia by comparison, at least at first. But it is only on the surface.”

“If you want to compare notes on corruption, I have plenty of other tales I could recount to you. Having been among the corrupt myself.”

Caleb’s slight smile turned tender and sad, as it so often did. “Later, my friend, after some healing. We are almost at the Grove.”

He pointed out ahead of them. Essek followed his gaze, but beyond the next twenty or so feet of shade in front of him, everything was a blur of white-hot sunlight.

“I will take your word for it,” he said, clutching Caleb’s hand closer to him.

#critrole #critical role #my writing #shadowgast #fic prompts #if anyone's curious this wasn't based on any particular spell #there are a few that do radiant damage + blinding effect

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

3rd life Villain!Impulse perhaps? Reasoning because he's been so nice to all factions and appears very harmless...until he kills Tango in the firing squad scenario. Do with that as you will :3

honestly i think the villain 3rd Life AUs are some of my best writing. also i’m pretty sure i’m gonna end up writing everyone as a villain at some point lol (villains so far: Scar, Etho, Tango, Grian, Ren, Martyn, now Impulse. Joel too if you count that fic where he kills Jimmy)

…

A feeling of dread hangs over Impulse as he makes his way up to Tango’s base. Getting a private message from his best friend, simply saying “we need to talk”, has highly unsettled him. He has absolutely no idea what Tango could want to talk to him about.”

As he gets to the hill Tango calls home, he spots Tango himself standing at the top, arms folded, clearly watching him. A shiver running down his spine, Impulse slowly climbs up the hill. Tango watches him all the way.

Finally, he gets to the top. Keeping an eye on the sun, which must be about an hour away from setting, he gives his friend a wave. “Hi, Tango. What’s… What’s going on?”

Tango’s looking at him with a narrow-eyed expression of distrust. “I know your game, Impulse.”

“Huh?” Impulse blinks. That’s not what he was expecting. “What?”

“Your little game of pretending to be allies with everyone so nobody will ever turn against you. Etho, Dogwarts, the crastle folk. You’ve got them all wrapped round your little finger.”

Impulse frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tango rolls his eyes. “Uh huh, ‘course you don’t. You change the sheet music for everyone, don’t you? Everyone believes they’re the only one getting your support. Well, not me. I know what you’re up to and I’m gonna make sure you stop getting away with it, starting today.”

As Tango turns to start walking away, Impulse grabs his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “Please don’t, Tango,” he says calmly.

Tango scoffs. “Let go of me, Impulse. I’m gonna expose you whether you like it or not.”

Impulse hangs on to Tango’s wrist. “I’m giving you one last chance to back down. You’re red; if something happens to you, you won’t come back.”

“You’re not gonna stop me,” Tango retorts. “I know you. Your niceness has always been your biggest weakness, and in this case, it’s gonna be your downfall.”

“You’ve misjudged me.”

Impulse abruptly seizes Tango’s lapels and roughly swings him closer to the edge of the cliff, holding him dangerously close to the precipice. “I‘ll do anything to survive,” Impulse says coldly. “Anything.”

Tango’s eyes widen with shock. “Impulse-!”

But Impulse shoves him off the top of the cliff.

He waits for a few seconds, listening to Tango’s screams get quieter and quieter, until they’re abruptly cut off.

Tango fell from a high place

Taking a deep breath, Impulse takes off running. He doesn’t know if there’s anyone nearby but he can’t risk it. If anyone sees him here, he’s done for. Absolutely done for.

The chat is filling up with confused and concerned messages but it doesn’t matter now. Tango is gone forever. Nobody ever needs to know what happened.

Impulse dashes back towards the wool castle but as he passes Tango’s still-gushing lava minigame, he bumps into Etho, who’s running the other way.

“Impulse!” Etho breathes. “Gosh, you scared me. What happened?”

Despite internally panicking quite hard, Impulse manages to stammer, “I-I dunno, I was just going to Tango’s base to talk to him when I saw the message. I thought he might have been somewhere around here but I couldn’t find any dropped items or anything. He must’ve been somewhere else when he died.”

“Tango doesn’t just fall from a high place like that,” Etho says. “He’s careful. Impulse, I’m worried that someone might have murdered him.”

“What?!” Impulse gasps. “Who would do that?!”

“I don’t know for sure, but my prime suspect is the crastle alliance. Bdubs had it out for Tango for some reason so I’m sure he knows something.”

“Oh no…” Impulse stares at his friend with wide, innocent eyes. “Bdubs wouldn’t have taken TWO of Tango’s lives… would he?”

Etho slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know. I thought I knew our friends really well but lately, I…” He sighs quietly. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past him. But it’s getting late; I’ll go talk to him tomorrow.”

He turns back towards the castle. “You coming?”

“I‘ll be there later. I’m just gonna go check on my villagers.”

“Gotcha. And Impulse…”

Impulse pauses as Etho glances back at him. “Thanks for being the only person on this server I can really trust.”

Impulse smiles back. “No problem.”

…

Under the cover of darkness, Impulse makes his way to the crastle. He can see Cleo up on the roof, aiming a crossbow at him, but thankfully, she lowers it when he gets close enough for her to see who he is.

Cleo and Bdubs let Impulse into the crastle. “What’s going on, Impulse?” Bdubs demands. “Nobody seems to know what happened to Tango!”

“Nobody’s owning up to knowing, anyway,” Cleo adds. “I don’t suppose you do?”

Impulse shakes his head. “I’ve no idea. But I’ve heard rumours going round the server and I thought I should come to you directly to let you know.”

“Let us know what?” Bdubs says.

“That Etho suspects you guys had something to do with Tango’s death.”

“What?!”

Bdubs and Cleo exchange a shocked look.

“Why would he think that?!” Bdubs snaps. “He has no evidence!”

“That’s why I thought I should come over and warn you,” says Impulse. “He’s gonna come over here tomorrow to confront you about it.”

“Oh gawsh…” Bdubs groans. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Oh, but this is just to give you some warning to prepare. You can’t let Etho know I told you, okay? Otherwise he might not tell me other stuff that concerns you guys.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Cleo says. “If we’re your secret girlfriend, does that mean Etho’s your… uh… spouse?”

“I don’t really have a singular “spouse”,” responds Impulse, making air quotes over the word “spouse”. “More like the rest of the server is my “spouse” and I can’t let them know that I favour you over them.”

“Riiiight, gotcha. Guess you’d better head home before your “spouse” misses you.”

Impulse nods. “Yeah, I gotta go back to Etho. See you guys later.”

As he leaves the crastle and starts to head for home, he spots a figure watching him from next to one of Bdubs’s tall spruce trees. When the figure comes forward, Impulse recognises the person as Joel.

“Hi,” he says, giving a friendly smile. Joel isn’t one of his official allies at the moment but that doesn’t mean he can’t be nice to him. “What’s up?”

“I heard Tango died,” Joel says, eyes sparking with interest. “Do you know what happened?”

“No, I don’t. I just saw it in chat.”

“I think you’re lying.”

Impulse blinks. “What?”

Joel grins as he senses he’s caught Impulse off guard. “I said I think you’re lying. I think you’re manipulating everyone into believing you’re their friend when in actuality, you don’t care about any of them. And I think you killed Tango when he confronted you about it. Am I wrong?”

Impulse stares at him, unable to say anything in his defence.

In the ensuing pause, Joel takes a sudden step towards Impulse, who backs up a few steps, his hand automatically flying to the hilt of his sword. But he pauses. He has to be extremely careful here; Bdubs and Cleo may be watching him. If they see him put a single foot wrong here, it’s over. He has to let Joel make the first move.

“Would you kill me?” says Joel challengingly. “Would you kill me as callously as you killed Tango?”

Impulse carefully turns his back to the crastle and narrows his eyes. “Come and find out. Or would you rather die stupidly and pointlessly because you forgot about FIRE DAMAGE?”

That does it. Impulse knew exactly how to rile Joel up and it works. Eyes flashing red, Joel growls and lashes out with his fist.

Impulse allows himself to be hit in the chin, narrowly avoiding biting his tongue. Joel’s second blow, this time to the stomach, winds him and causes him to drop to his knees, vulnerable. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Joel drawing his sword. This is it; this is the moment. Either his position on the server will elevate… or he will simply die.

He holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

An arrow flies out of nowhere and buries itself in Joel’s chest, causing him to stagger back a step. A split second later, a second arrow hits Joel in the neck, and that’s all it takes.

SmallishBeans was shot by BdoubleO100

Impulse stares at the ground where Joel had landed, a second before he died. He can’t believe his plan worked so well.

“Impulse, are you okay?” Bdubs appears at Impulse’s side, discarding his crossbow. “What happened?”

“He… He was gonna kill me,” Impulse chokes out. This isn’t entirely an act; Joel’s unexpected hit to his stomach has completely snatched the wind from his sails.

“Why? Why did he wanna kill you?”

“Did he really need a reason?” Cleo says. “He was red and Impulse is green. Nuff said.”

“Wh-Whatever it was, you guys saved my life.” Impulse gives them a smile. “Thanks. If Etho or anyone else asks what happened, you guys spotted me getting attacked by Joel on my way back from checking on my villagers. Okay?”

“Ooh, good story,” Bdubs says approvingly. “But are you sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Thanks to you guys. I should probably head home, though.”

Bdubs pats him on the shoulder. “Yeah, go get some rest. Thanks again for… um… coming past and not visiting.”

Impulse nods, knowing exactly what Bdubs means. “No worries.”

…

“Joel just attacked you?” Etho frowns. “Why would he do that?”

“He doesn’t need a reason,” responds Impulse, recalling what Cleo said earlier. “He was red. I guess he just saw an easy target and couldn’t resist.”

“So he attacked you on your way back from the villagers, huh. And you’re okay, right? You’re not hurt.”

“No, I’m fine,” says Impulse. “A little shaken and tired from everything that’s happened, though.”

“Oh yeah, you should get some sleep.” Etho smiles at his friend. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Etho.”

As Impulse gets into bed in his room, he can’t help a small smile. He took a big risk today but it has really paid off. Getting rid of two red lifers in one day is enough of an accomplishment in of itself, but doing it without arousing suspicion on himself AND managing to turn Etho and Bdubs further against each other? That’s something he can be proud of.

All he needs to do now is make sure he’s in the right place at the right time for Etho’s confrontation with Bdubs tomorrow and perhaps he can be there for another red life death. Bdubs may be one of his strongest allies but if Impulse sees a chance to get another player out of the game, well…

He’s going to take it.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #impulsesv #etho #ethoslab #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #zombiecleo #smallishbeans #tangotek #vaunna’s requests

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technowoah · 3 years

Text

THESEUS - a dsmp story ( DreamSMP x Queen!Reader)

CHAPTER FOUR : LOOK ‘EM IN THE EYE AIM NO HIGHER, SUMMON ALL THE COURAGE YOU REQUIRE THEN COUNT!

Chapter Summary: Wilbur makes a proposition, Tommy finally gets his fight, warning shots are fired and the bomb that was planted finally went off.

pairing: c!wilbur x queen!reader

an// tbh im not that happy with this one, I hope yall like it! but hopefully Ill like chapter 6 lol

⚠︎ swearing, dsmp spoliers(?), angst, fighting, minor blood mention, not proofread. Y/N/N = your nickname

word count: 5.1k

THESEUS MASTERLIST

"Are you sure you want to do this because Tommy is a good fighter!"

"He's also good at being annoying, so you'll die either way."

"SHUT UP YOU TWO!"

Currently Tommy and You were by a small lake in L'Manburg facing each other with swords and guns. Fundy and Tubbo were belittling Tommy on the sidelines. Tubbo was trying to convince the both of them not to do this so they wouldn't get hurt badly before the actual war begins. Wilbur was standing in between the two and Eret nervously standing off to the side with Tubbo and Fundy.

When You arrived you explained to the three people who were there, Tubbo, Fundy, and Wilbur, that Tommy and you were going to fight that day. Tubbo and Fundy were not for that idea at all, but Wilbur approved it. After a while of thinking and conversation of course he agreed.

Eret and Tommy arrived at L'Manburg as well and apparently Tommy already told Eret that he was fighting his wife.

"You know what Eret? I'm gonna fight your wife today! Yeah it'll be a good fight, don't worry I wont hurt her that badly."

Of course Eret did not want this duel to happen and tried to convince Wilbur to not let the two do this to one another. He was concerned about the task and hand yes, but You getting hurt or even worse, killed was not a thing he wanted not needed. Tommy was a loose cannon, he worked on impulse. You were basically fighting a bull while wearing all red.

Wilbur had pulled You aside for the second time this week and started to have a conversation with you again. It was a needed conversation so when Wilbur grabbed her arm.and pulled her away you didn't hesitate this time. As the two talked in the distance you heard Fundy yelling at Tommy about the dangers of fighting You at a time like this. Your mind was all over the place at this point.

"You know how this works?" Wilbur looked at You and Tommy.

"Yes!"

"Yes I do"

You knew what was going to happen. They both had 6 bullets in their gun, if they use all of their bullets they can use their swords instead. You were in your head at this moment. Wilbur was explaining how this duel would work to Tubbo, while You contemplated whether to waste youshot by shooting in the sky or aiming at Tommy's foot. you didn't want to hurt him at all, they had a war coming soon so hurting Tommy would not help L'Manburg. Then again, when was helping L'Manburg a part of your mission?

You snapped out of your mind and saw Tommy glaring daggers at her. He looked harmless.

"I am going to beat you." Tommy said in a voice that can be only compared to a robot.

"You wish!" You scoffed and smiled, smiled which made Tommy scoff and look away.

Wilbur spoke over the two, "ALRIGHT! You two will be back to back facing away from each other, then take ten paces. When I say "fire" you two will fire and shoot and fight until one is damaged and cannot battle anymore or until I call a draw. Understand?"

"Yes Wilbur!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Of course." You calmly said.

"Alright" Wilbur agreed and motioned for the two to turn away from each other.

They had both touched backs and You had taken a huge deep breath.

The dilemma in your head was still spinning. Whether to shoot him or to shoot into the air. you would be a coward wouldn't you?

"You scared?" Tommy taunted you.

"No. Just getting ready to beat your ass."

"HA! That's not gonna happen. You're all talk."

"We'll see about that." Wilbur spoke, inserting himself into their conversation.

Wilbur had stepped back towards the group of men who sat and were watching the whole duel. There was tension in the air, they all could feel it. They all thought this was a bad idea, You thought this was a bad idea. What if this tore the whole plan apart will they ever get to-

"READY? ONE!"

They both took a step.

Aim to the sky or aim towards Tommy?

"TWO!"

Where would you aim?

"THREE!"

What would happen if Tommy ended up dead?

"FOUR!"

Would Dream be happy?

"FIVE!"

If you aim towards the sky. Tommy might shoot. you would be an open target.

"SIX!"

It would be over right? If you aim at the sky?

"SEVEN!"

Tommy.

"EIGHT!"

Up in the air.

"NINE!"

How can this end?

The sky? Tommy? Where does the bullet go?

Where do you go?

"NUMBER TEN PACES, FIRE!"

*bang!*

Tommy's eyes widened and You stood my ground.

"She shot her pistol towards the sky?!" Tubbo shouted.

Wilbur stood there with a smirk and Eret let out a sigh of relief and immediately relaxed. Tommy didn't shoot his gun at all; he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. This was the right way.

-----------------

"I want you to shoot into the sky." Wilbur had taken you to an uninhabited part of the wall to talk.

"Why?"

Wilbur had sighed and looked over to where Tommy was gloating to Eret about dueling his wife.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tommy is rather impulsive. He does things without thinking or with any concern for consequence. He says things without thinking too, as you've seen firsthand."

You nodded and laughed before Wilbur kept talking.

"I want him to hesitate. I want him to think for once. I know he wants to fight right now, he's riled up because of the battle. I expect him to shoot, but I hope that he won't. He won't." Wilbur seemed to be convincing himself this was a good idea.

"That's reassuring." You replied sarcastically.

Wilbur rolled his eyes, "I believe he won't kill you nor harm you. At least that's the plan. I care for him. He's a good fighter and he should be able to see his opponent before going all ape shit."

"I get it. I want to do this, but you said he works on impulse. What if he shoots?" You continued to worry.

"I'm here. And uh- Fundy is great at healing. We have healing potions in the van as well. You will not die on my watch. We need you for the war."

You nodded and continued to stare into Wilbur's brown eyes waiting for another comment from his mouth.

"Do this for me please? For us?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Wilbur sighed before continuing his statement,

"You don't have to do this. I should've said that first. I understand that death is scary, believe me I don't want to die either. So I can figure out another way to get to Tommy if you are uncomfortable with this."

This time it wasn't a forced situation. He was literally giving you a huge way out, an open path, but you already agreed to fight before. It wasn't like you were put into this without paths to take. you had options. Now that potions were involved and there are spectators that can act as doctors eased your nerves just slightly. you can do this.

"Or were you planning on shooting Tommy anyways?"

--------------

You looked towards Wilbur and smiled warmly at him and he returned your same smile.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE THE BAD GUY! YOU-"

"I didn't even call it a draw yet Tommy. You can still fight-"

"It's clear that my opponent doesn't want this. If I did, I would be more of a bad guy than I already am now." Tommy dropped his gun to the green grass underneath his feet.

You followed suit, dropping your gun onto the grass below you. You walked towards Tommy trying to find the right words at this moment. He had his head hung low looking at the gun that laid in the lush grass in front of him. You had walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder and he began to tense up at the friendly gesture.

"Tommy, you're not a bad guy. You did the right thing at that moment. You're neutral really, if you would've shot me then yeah you would be considered "the bad guy". But in reality, there is no such thing as good or bad, there are just people with different morals." You whispered that last part and Tommy seemed to reluctantly understand, still sticking to his main idea of him being a bad guy.

He was really stubborn, which made it harder for you to make him feel better.

"This is what I wanted Tommy! I wanted you to hesitate before you shot her." Wilbur tried to pick his spirits up by revealing his plan.

"THEN WHAT IF I SHOT HER?!"

"you would've been fine. Plus you weren't going to brutally damage or kill Y/N right?"

Tommy stuttered a little bit before speaking, explaining himself.

"No I wasn't! My goal was at least to scare her, or graze you with my bullet." Tommy rushed.

"What if you slipped up and hit Y/N instead?" Tubbo came into the conversation leading Fundy and Eret with him.

"Then I would feel incredibly horrible that I hurt an ally." Tommy said while hanging his head. "I understand, Wilbur, I understand what today's duel was for." Tommy continued.

"To be honest, this was a last minute decision! I talked to Y/N before and we both decided it was a good idea for you. Especially when a war is coming up."

"Mhm. I am okay now. I've learned, and I just hope that I can transfer this into the war." Tommy seemed relieved, but also not wanting to learn his lesson. It was bad to assume, but it sounded like he wanted to get this lecture over with.

Wilbur humed while turning away satisfied with what happened today. He walked towards the HTO van with Fundy following suit leaving Tommy and you standing next to each other still recovering from what just happened. Eret and Tubbo were standing a few feet away from them making small glances to the two making sure they are okay.

"I still hate you." Tommy grumbled.

-----------------

The five citizens were sitting in the meeting room making potions with the brewing machines or doing their own thing at the moment. Wilbur didn't have anything planned for today except for making many potions for battle. You were helping with potions as well. you were more skilled at potion making than battle. you can hold yourself down and maybe kill someone, but you don't recommend for herself to do that.

"Wow Y/N/N you're making potions so much faster than I am. Teach me your secrets!" Tubbo exclaimed.

"What did you call me?" You asked The boy softly.

"What do you mean? I called you Y/N/N." Tubbo said, confused.

Has Dream ever called you Y/N/N before because it seems like you've never been called that before. Tubbo was still looking quizzically at you waiting for an answer.

"I don't think I've been called Y/N/N before." You answered.

"Y/N might be uncomfortable with that." Wilbur joined into their conversation.

"Oh! I'm sorry! If that made you-"

"I'm okay! You can call me Y/N/N'' You said while waving your hands to dismiss the situation.

"Good! I thought I was being a creep or something." Tubbo laughed.

"Y/N/N HELP ME OUT WITH THESE POTIONS WILL YA?" Tommy shouted from across the room.

"Okay you don't get to call me Y/N/N."

Tommy huffed, "If my best friend can call you Y/N/N I will too!"

"Okay children settle down." Eret said while looking up from the book he was writing.

There was another pause until Fundy had spoken.

"Today seemed like a good day huh? Even though it isn't over so far, so good eh?" Fundy tried making conversation after writing whatever enchantments in his book.

"Yes it was so far! Very surprising today." Tubbo agreed with Fundy.

"Tommy and You gave me a heart attack today. I wouldn't consider this a good day so far." Eret exhaled jokingly. He seemed in good spirits today.

"I'm sorry I gave my husband a heart attack." You taunted.

"But seriously that scared me. Thank goodness nothing happened to the both of you. I wouldn't know what I would do." Eret continued.

"You would live." You said bluntly, staring at him.

Eret nodded at you, sending a small smile your way.

"You would've been a good fighter. Have you fought before?" Fundy inquired.

"I have fought before! I've been trained as well, I'm more into the sneaky side of things, and making potions like I am now." You cheerfully explained.

"Sneaky things?" Wilbur asked.

Your eyes widened slightly before maintaining your composure. you forgot that Wilbur was still on youtail. He thinks that You is still suspicious, so of course when you said that he would jump on the opportunity to interrogate her.

"You could be a spy for us! Maybe spy on Dream and George!" Tubbo exclaimed.

Oh the irony.

Wilbur hummed, "Maybe, that would be interesting. We could get information and they wouldn't turn her down."

"It would be too late anyways if they've seen you here so it would be a major red flag if you showed up there trying to join their team." Eret spoke up, still concentrating on writing enchantments with Fundy.

Thank God that Eret was here, You would be stumbling for the right words and then eventually blowing their cover. you had this happen too many times. They are almost to the end you have to pull back.

"True. You're right!" Wilbur agreed. "Plus we've been more productive since you two came back."

Eret and you both nodded in agreement and went back to doing their tasks.

Tubbo and You were standing together on one side of the room making potions and talking to one another until Tubbo made a quiet gasp.

You looked at him and followed his line of gaze until you saw them again. It was Sapnap and Dream on the top of the new, enlarged L'Manburg walls. Dream pulled back his hand and whipped something toward the van. It looked metal and shiny as it bounced harshly in the grass.

Sapnap then pulled out a bow and arrow and Dream had set it on fire. Sapnap launched the arrow into the walls and it landed by the machine that Dream had thrown. The grass around the arrow caught on fire as well, not making a huge fire but enough to scare the two.

"WILBUR! You have a gift!" Tubbo said as he rushed out of the van and You watched carefully through the window so the two wouldn't do anything to the boy.

"Where did he go?!" Wilbur yelled.

"He went outside to grab the metal thing Dream and Sapnap threw." You said keeping an eye on Tubbo as he came back into the van.

Wilbur rushed towards the window where Aryia was stationed and looked towards the top of the wall where Dream and Sapnap were. Dream took one last final glance at the two in the window then turned away to jump down the wall with Sapnap following suit.

"Guys you might want to take a look at this." Tubbo said while placing the metal thing, which was an old answering machine, on the table.

Wilbur sighed, clearly exhausted with everything that had been going on. He sat down on the edge of the table. Tubbo pressed play on the machine and the recording started.

"Tommy, and Wilbur, and the rest of L'Man-child-burg. We are at war. There is no mercy. We have burned down Tubbo's house, we have planted TNT cannons around your land, we have cobblestone walled the outside, we have shot one warning shot inside your walls. WE HAVE NO MERCY, NO MERCY FOR YOU! We will burn down your houses! We will kill everything inside your walls and we will take back the land that is rightfully ours. If you do not surrender I WANT TO SEE WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS OUTSIDE YOUR BASE BY TOMORROW AT DAWN, OR YOU ARE DEAD!"

*beep~*

There was a long beep until Tubbo shut off the recorded message. Everyone was silent looking at each other for the next move. Everyone either had a face of anger or one of concern. Eventually everyone turned to Wilbur who had his head down, his hair slightly covering his eyes in a thinking pose. We were waiting for a response from the leader, but it didn't seem like anyone had a response to this situation.

"Hey lets just-"

"Grab me a book and a pen" Wilbur spoke.

------------------

It's been about an hour since we last received the message. The sun has gone down and they are all still sitting around the meeting table.

"What do we get? What's the report?" Wilbur asked.

Tommy started, "Okay so here's the situation, the ‘Dream boys' they're on the roof, they've already killed me and Tubbo once, they feel like they got their power. Their egos are up-"

"They've taken it all." Tubbo added.

"I don't know man, what do you think we've got to do now? Ultimately you're the leader here." Tommy asked the older man.

Wilbur paused before speaking, "I think, the element of surprise is needed. We can't go in just guns blazing."

"My son, how are you doing?" Wilbur asked Fundy.

Fundy stuttered before speaking, "I could've been better."

Wilbur smiled then opened the book he had been writing in for the past hour.

"Before we go into battle though-

"WORDS OVER WEAPONS MY FRIEND!" Tommy interrupted Wilbur

"My gents and m'lady, may I read you the Declaration of Independence?"

Wilbur had started to read through the Declaration complementing the writers who wrote lines in the book. He began reading the main parts of the book.

"When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for-"

"Wilbur" Tommy interrupted Wilbur again

"Yes what, what?" Wilbur asked annoyed

"They're surrounding us, Wilbur."

Tommy stood up looking out of the window at the many fiery arrows making their way towards the van and making the grass around the van catch on small fires.

From inside the van it looked like rain from hell. All the fears you once had came flooding back into your mind. you put herself right in front of the greatest fighters, and assassins in the kingdom and you might not make it out alive.

Wilbur started to head out of the door trying to face his opponents. They all were putting themselves out there exiting the van as fast as they could like a huge target. Speaking of target, an arrow shot by Sapnap landed too close for comfort next to Wilbur. He seemed un phased at this.

"They're not the best shot." Wilbur turned his back on the archers and stood in the doorway to the group inside.

Wilbur began to yell at the archers, "Gentlemen how are you!?"

"Good!" Dream replied bluntly.

Surprisingly they could hear both of each other.

"Do you like the view of our nation!?" Wilbur asked as he smirked.

"Oh God!" Tubbo exclaimed, worried because of the taunting Wilbur was doing.

"We might be a little out gunned here gentlemen." Eret said softly to the others while placing a hand on your shoulder in a comforting way.

"I thought this was a trailer park!" Dream shouted back.

"Very funny, listen. It seems like you've gained the upper hand in people! We will meet you in the field, but on our own terms!" Wilbur concluded.

"YEAH!" Tommy shouted at the archers hyping Wilbur up.

The rest laughed at Tommy's antics trying to keep it together.

"Please stop making things worse!" Tubbo laughed.

Another arrow was shot at Wilbur's feet. He was clearly stunned by this, turning to the rest of the L'Manburgians he spoke to them.

"We armor up gents." Wilbur said, walking away.

Just as he walked away Tommy followed Wilbur outside of the van and then an arrow was shot into Tommy's bicep by George. Tommy yelled in anger and in pain, and the rest followed suit yelling in shock. Tommy clutched the arm that the arrow had found its way into, he tried to keep it together as he fell to his knees. You rushed to Tommy's side trying to take the arrow out carefully and heal him. He kept on shielding his arm away from you and kept babbling incoherent nonsense about “leaving him alone” too.

"It's okay! I'm fine! I'm fine! Don't worry!" Tommy kept shouting.

"You're not fine Tommy, let me help!" You yelled and he finally succumbed to you.

You slowly pulled out the arrow and used bandages that Eret had rushed to give you to wrap around his arm carefully. Throughout this whole process Tommy had a face of discomfort and pain until you had successfully bandaged his upper arm so no blood would seep through. Later on you would have to tend to his wounds more delicately.

"Just stay inside!" Fundy yelled in a hurried tone and was angry at the fact someone had already gotten hurt.

This would've been the outcome of the duel if you hadn't followed Wilbur's orders. Either way he would've been injured. Of course they would go for Tommy. Wilbur's right hand man. It was bound to happen.

You and the rest of the men were clad in netherite or diamond armor and they surrounded Wilbur waiting for another order.

"Tommy I'm putting you in charge of this army." Wilbur said.

Your eyes widened. Didn't Wilbur just say he acted on impulse. This was a bad idea. you were going to die at the hands of the people who gave this opportunity to you.

Wilbur continued, "No matter what happens during this war, no matter who wins and who loses. Just remember that we're on the right side of history."

You have heard that before. What side of history was you on? They have rubbed off on you of course, but with different morals coming from both sides, whose morals do you fit with? If you die, will you be painted in the wrong manner? Are you on the right side as you stand with Eret and Fundy in L'Manburg? Is there even a right side?

"Up the walls we go!" Tommy exclaimed as the group climbed the ladder over the walls.

Your heart was pounding as Tommy led the way towards their next destination. This was going to be very interesting.

----------------

Tommy led us to the destination where the other warriors were on top of a small tower looking down on the L'Manburgians.

"God- whatever we do, don't go up the tower." Tubbo exhaled.

"We have to get them down to our level. We have to get them to come down on their own accord." Wilbur commanded.

"Those bastards." Tommy said as an arrow made of fire was shot precisely onto the ground.

The floor began to rumble as the ground cracked and smoke began to rise beneath you revealing the red, fiery TNT that blew up from beneath them breaking the very ground and dirt they stood on making everyone lose their balance. Everyone started screaming, scrambling to get away from the constant chain of TNT slipping and falling on the debris, and the crevices that formed. You had started to run faster,and faster, sometimes you fell to your knees because of the ground shaking and breaking underneath you. You couldn’t look back but you heard screaming and you could only hope and pray no one fell into the big canyon the TNT made behind you. Your mind was not catching up your feet as you blindly followed Tommy into his own home, cutting around the whole kingdom. The rest followed close behind making their way into the house.

Their clothes were tattered and dirty, singes from the fire were on their war uniforms and armor. As they scrambled for safety the arrows kept coming, hitting the house and the ground outside of it. You felt like this was it for you, your first friends, your enemies shooting arrows of fire at you through your so-called enemies house. You had to stay alive though, keep up the act, but right now you didn't really have to keep an act up because you were actually scared for your life.

The grass in front of Tommy's house was burning while the men gave Tommy all of their arrows. Wilbur commanded them to hail them with arrows. Arrows began burning through the walls breaking into their safe haven. To escape this situation Wibur had told all of them to scatter and make it harder for the archers to shoot them. They all did just that, playing on the defensive dodging the arrows that were hurled towards their way.

Eventually the archers jumped off of the tower retreating towards a nearby river. The L'Manburgians currently had the high ground and You started shooting with arrows purposefully missing so you wouldn't hurt them.

"They are heading to Ponk's tower!" Tommy shouted.

You looked up to one of the highest towers in the kingdom. Damn.

"In that case we need to start heading towards Ponk's tower!" Tubbo yelled, ceasing his arrows trying to get the rest of them to follow his lead.

The men followed Tommy through his shortcuts to get to the base of Ponk's tower faster. Fundy went forward shooting at the others at the base of the tower. You, Eret, Tommy and Tubbo followed Fundy and started shooting and dodging as well.

For now they have retreated towards the walls of L'Manburg hiding slightly below the top. Wilbur was there at first then the rest of the groups followed. The arrows couldn't reach them and the boys cheerfully pointed that fact out. Soon they had started slowly retreating as the sun went down in the distance. You sighed and cheered with the rest of the men that they finally stopped fire. Your heart still beating fast you looked behind you towards Eret sending each other a knowing glance.

The rest were cheering and complimenting each other until Eret spoke up.

"Gentlemen, I think we need to go back to our home." Eret said.

"I think you're right, Eret." Tommy agreed happily.

They made their way back to L'Manburg into the night with Tommy leading them for the last time tonight. Tommy and Wilbur were playfully bickering through the whole walk back to L'Manburg. It was a fun time filled with laughter and it was much needed after that whole war. Even though they all were beaten and tattered with burn marks and scratches, they kept smiling. It's crazy to think about.

The fun ended for you as they reached their destination. The extended walls of L'Manburg were in their sights and your heart rate picked up even more than it had before. This is the end.

"Gentlemen in L'Manburg I have a secret weapon." Eret says, sparking a new conversation.

"What is it?" You asked playing dumb.

"What is it?" Wilbur asked asked as well

"A secret weapon!?" Tubbo exclaimed.

"I feel like Eret is just going to pull out a giant missile." Fundy joked around and your breath hitched. If only they knew.

"But seriously, what do you mean you got a secret weapon?" Tommy spoke fast.

"I've been grinding for equipment, I've been grinding materials." Eret said not to give it away.

"Show us please!" Tommy exclaimed as they all entered L'Manburg once more today.

You joined in as well, "I haven't seen any of this show us Eret!"

You hated lying to them.

----------------

"This is the final control room for you too!" Dream yelled with excitement showing the beautiful dark room.

The chests were empty, there was a button on top of a podium, and there was a secret room where Dream and the rest would be hiding after the war. The plan was simple enough on paper. The two countries would fight until sun down and then Eret would lead the L'Manburgians to the final control room where he would press the button and then The citizens of L'Manburg would be killed and a life would be taken from them.

Dream has taught You about the life limit. Everyone in the kingdom had three lives and if all three lives were taken, there is no coming back. you felt weary taking away someone's life.

"This is where the battle will end." Dream said calmly

Currently it was just Eret and You with Dream. Dream kept explaining the mechanics of the room while they both listened. You kept slipping in and out of your mind at the moment.

This would be the end, he said. It will all come to an end and you will finally find your place in the huge kingdom. you can finally have closure. It will all come to an end.

"You two are on the right side of history, don't worry. Cause if you do this you'll be doing the kingdom a huge favor."

----------------

"This way." Eret led the group into the final control room.

The men were astonished about the huge tunnel entrance to the room. They continue to rush down the tunnel to catch up to Eret.

"I'm excited to show you!" Eret cheerfully said as he walked. "They will never suspect a thing!"

They all ended up in the final control room. You made sure to stand next to Eret making sure that they stayed together. you knew where to leave and when the button was pressed but you had a few minutes to play it off.

"WHAT?"

"This is so cool!"

"What is this place?!"

"There's nothing in the chests." Wilbur said bluntly, as he turned to us still crouching because he opened the chests.

"Eret?" Tubbo asked.

Eret pressed the button and then the wall behind Wilbur opened and revealed Dream, Sapnap, George and Punz. The men started to scream in shock. They were getting attacked. Blood was being spilled and fire was burning down the whole final control room. Eret grabbed your hand pulling you to a secret wall, opening it to reveal stairs that led out of the final control room trying to protect you from getting hurt.

The L'Manburgians fought anyone they saw, but the others knew who specifically to kill. As the L'Manburgians fought for their lives you heard Wilbur yell out over all of the chaos.

"A TRAITOR! GET OUT GET OUT!"

Were you a traitor? Yes you were. They died. The fire around their bodies began to calm as their murders stood over their bodies breathing heavily. There was an orange and purple tint to the room. It looked unreal. This was it. Their bodies began to glow a light blue color and disintegrate showing that one of their lives was taken that day. This was the closure you wanted, but why did it feel like an unfinished symphony? Like it reached the climax of the song then ended.

It's over

Eret saluted to their disintegrating bodies and you followed suit.

"Down with the revolution boys! It was never meant to be."

---------------

Wilbur's POV

"Eret how could you?" We sat on the burnt grass of L'Manburg waiting for one another to show up from being killed.

This was what I suspected from the beginning. Sadly this is what I suspected from the beginning.

"Hey where's Y/N?!" Tubbo whipped his head frantically looking for her.

"They were a traitor as well." Fundy said sadly.

Tommy and Eret were facing each other. Tommy in L'Manburg's walls and Eret standing a few feet outside of them. It was a beautiful picture at this moment, very symbolic.

Tubbo was talking to Eret in a distraught voice before Tommy had interrupted him. "Eret listen to me! And I mean this in the nicest way possible. You fucked up." Tommy said harshly to Eret.

Eret only smirked at this like the madman he is and spoke around him, "farewell gentlemen." And he left us in our ruins.

I had such high hopes for the two of them. Especially Y/N. I knew they were trying to find their home, their place in this huge world. Maybe they'll find it with Dream. That's not what I would've wanted, but they might want to stay there. they'll be back, they'll find their home soon.

"We'll meet again. I know you."

taglist: @hi-imuwu

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earthstellar · 3 years

Text

Rewatching Transformers G1 S2: Episode 1: Autobot Spike

Yes, this is where the Surprised Ratchet meme image comes from:

This episode has a lot going on including near-death of a human character on screen, body horror/a Frankenstein plot, and some genuinely unsettling scenes mostly made creepy due to the combination of some interesting dialogue/voice acting and typical G1 Quality.

And Spike shoots Starscream in the ass mid-flight, which is fantastic.

He also shoots his dad, which is less fantastic.

Being a horror nerd, I love this episode, so here we go!

Gonna put this below a cut because I’m taking a lot of screenshots here:

You can watch the whole episode on YouTube here in 4 parts, if you want to watch along!

Alright, so it opens with Sparkplug trying to create “Autobot X”, which is straight up just a Frankenstein’s Monster of autobot parts. It’s weirdly creepy, and vaguely reminiscent of the infamous Ratchet-Megatron fusion in the Marvel comics.

I want to point out that Sparkplug says “I wanna see what I can do with a lotta spare Autobot parts and some human ingenuity” before the reveal shot above, and that’s horrific if you think about it for more than like, three seconds.

It also may have been the origins of the MECH plot line in TFP, actually! Very similar body horror type thing going on. Anyway.

It works briefly, but it flips out and has to get shut down.

Ironhide fires a laser, problem solved, nobody’s worried. They put Autobot X in storage, because surely a rampantly aggressive seemingly sentient pastiche of random Autobot parts is nothing to worry about. It’s fine.

Wheeljack is like, hell yeah, I’ll help you work on it later. Which is when we get the Surprised Ratchet image, because yeah, I bet Ratchet’s freaked out a little since this thing is made of SPARE AUTOBOT PARTS.

Then we’re swept immediately into a fight with Megatron, as many Seekers as you can fit in frame at one time, and Soundwave.

For whatever reason, Bumblebee shows up driving through a bunch of partially blown up missile/rocket components, with Spike in the driver’s seat. Even Spike is like, dude, why are we here? And Bumblebee is just like, I mean, we couldn’t NOT show up. lmao

Unsurprisingly, Bumblebee gets shot-- In alt-mode, with Spike inside. Uh oh.

Megatron leaves, because Frank Welker can only voice so many characters at once, and our attention is turned to the carnage.

Ratchet is like, sure, I can fix Bumblebee right up! Meanwhile, Ironhide is like oh god, oh my god, is this how you hold a human??? Is it dead??? Optimus is gonna be pissed.

So Optimus rolls up like, listen, take him to the hospital, come on. Ratchet lets him in the back of his ambulance mode, and Prowl goes with him so that he can throw his emergency lights on to give the illusion of a police escort, ensuring the drive is even quicker.

(I miss the days when Prowl wasn’t a total asshole.)

It cuts pretty quickly to Spike in an operating theatre; Apparently getting shot by alien space lasers isn’t conducive to human health:

It cuts again to the attending physician standing at Spike’s beside, presumably in ICU although they appear to be in a private room, with Sparkplug on the other side of the bed.

The doctor says “Hmm, if only there were a way of separating Spike’s mind from his body while we work...” Which, uh, what? What surgeon says that? You can sort of already do that in actual human medicine, it’s called an induced coma.

But sure, we need exposition here, I get it. The screenplay here is tight. Sparkplug says he has an idea...

Back at the Autobot hangout, things seem fairly chill, considering.

Ratchet is welding Bumblebee’s ass in alt-mode, while Bumblebee complains about how long it’s taking. lol

Meanwhile, Wheeljack and Sparkplug somehow have Spike hooked up to a Ghostbusters colander helmet, which will hopefully transfer his mind into the malfunctioning/in stasis Autobot X frame. Yikes.

It works! Spike is now also Autobot X. We will call him Spike X for short.

And for some reason, Spike saying “D-Da-ad?” with this faceplate expression is incredibly funny to me, while also being really weird and creepy:

However, this is only cool for like two seconds, at which point Spike X truly starts to lose his shit.

It gets real creepy here, with Spike X saying in a very oddly flat inflection “Why? Why did you do this to me? Why?” and it’s pretty wild. There’s even a mild strobe effect for a few frames.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker try to help calm him down, but Spike X throws them both across the room.

Optimus is like, oh shit, we made a giant metal teenager. Stop him, but use low power, because if the Autobot X frame is damaged too much, then Spike’s consciousness may not be able to be returned to his actual human body.

Note that Optimus says this in a pretty relaxed way, then levels a shoulder mounted cannon straight at Spike X, which is incredibly funny.

It quickly gets deeply weird and creepy again when Spike X is temporarily able to talk with his dad, and states that “it’s hard to think, like something is telling me to do... bad.... things!” Yiiiiiikes.

He gets it under control again, apologises to his dad for the outburst (I think it’s OK, Spike), and Optimus says that he’s cool to stay at the base and he’ll be taken care of while his human body heals up.

However, oh shit, the Decepticons have found out that Spike now has an Autobot frame-- And they know he’s unstable.

Starscream tries to roast him, but Megatron’s like, shut up nerd, we’re gonna make Spike X turn against the Autobots! It’s a good plan, I’m serious!

Back at the Autobot base, Ratchet is still welding Bumblebee’s ass, and Bumblebee is still complaining. Wheeljack hooks up Spike X with some network television, and he’s watching... Frankenstein. Because the six year old kids who are the intended audience of G1 may not be familiar with the source material for this episode’s plot, I guess, which is fair. (Frank Welker nails it here as Dr. Frankenstein, but that’s unsurprising, because he always nails it. I think he’s also voicing Frankenstein’s Monster, but I haven’t checked the credits.)

Obviously, this isn’t a great thing for Spike X to be watching at this particular moment, so he freaks out again.

Wheeljack and Sparkplug come running, and somehow Sparkplug is covering ground faster than Wheeljack. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

Ratchet’s progress on welding Bumblebee’s ass is interrupted by Spike X breaking through the wall and seemingly flying away. lmao

They just sort of stand there, like, well, we lost him, I guess.

Bumblebee is like, alright, gonna go get my boy.

So he drives out of this massive crater, and Ratchet is like, wait! Your radio transmitter still doesn’t work. (Apparently their radio transmitters are located in their asses. Fascinating.)

Spike X sits on a cliff and says “what a drag”, which, yeah. Being a Frankenstein space robot would be cool if not for the immense psychological damage this is absolutely causing.

However, he also calls himself a “walking garbage can” in a completely genuine put-out tone of voice, which absolutely sells that this is a teenager in a giant robot body and I laughed, I won’t lie.

Some of Megatron’s cronies locate him and hold his position.

At the same time, Bumblebee shows up and tries to talk Spike X down from a random destructive rampage.

He throws Bumblebee off the cliff! And Megatron’s squad is rolling up. (Well, flying up, anyway.) Uh oh!

Spike X is like, hell yeah, bring it. More ass to kick. And it turns out his arm mounted cannon works, because he shoots Starscream directly in the undercarriage and says “YEAH, MAN!” and it’s so genuine.

This is the perfect reaction to being a teenager in a giant robot body and just suddenly being able to shoot lasers and kick ass. Look at how happy he is, that he just shot Starscream in the butt mid-air. It’s awesome.

Unfortunately, the Seekers do actually beat him up, although Spike X puts up a good fight.

Megatron then takes advantage of his further weakened state, and swoops in to pitch a classic “Join Us” speech. Spike X calls him “Megacrumb”, which is probably acceptable because he’s absolutely concussed by this point.

Megatron is willing to overlook this for the sake of teaming up.

Bumblebee eavesdrops, and drives away-- But Spike X gives Megatron a handshake, and agrees to “make them pay”. Oh shit!

For some reason, Optimus and Ironhide are back at the rocket facility to watch a launch. Because I guess whatever, this whole situation is chill, let’s go watch rockets? IDK

But either way, Optimus roasts the inferior quality of human technology, while Bumblebee just drives up on site despite Military Police levelling sniper rifles at him in order to report that Megatron is taking advantage of Spike X’s inability to think clearly.

Optimus says “I feared something like this might happen”, which, if that were the case, why not take actions to prevent it, maybe? Not the strongest Optimus episode.

To be fair though, Ironhide transforms and is already driving off before Optimus even gives the order to roll out, so I guess Ironhide either really wants to kick some ass or cares slightly more about Spike X’s wellbeing. He has no dialogue here, so we can only guess.

They get there, with even more Autobots who showed up at some point in the rapid scene cuts here, and Spike X is super unhinged-- Charging his weapons, he starts speaking in a more strained and angry way, and engages the Autobots!

He hits Optimus with what appears to be a chest laser? It’s hard to see. But it’s super effective:

Optimus pleads with Spike X to calm down, but Spike X straight up pulls MEGATRON IN GUN MODE out of his sub-space and shoots Optimus directly in the faceplate. Damn!

The Seekers and Soundwave drop in, and start rapid firing on all the Autobots present.

We get some great shots of Megatron in his gun alt-mode as he tries to convince Spike X to keep attacking. Optimus and Bumblebee hide behind cover, attempting to bring Spike X to his senses long enough to disarm him.

Suddenly, Wheeljack and Sparkplug roll up; Sparkplug attempts to talk some sense into Spike, too.

Optimus and Bumblebee are at a loss; If they take out Spike X, the damage might take him out for good.

However, Sparkplug fails in his efforts to talk to Spike X; He SHOOTS HIS DAD AND KNOCKS HIM OFF THE CLIFF.

Can you imagine if they put an ad break here? lmao

Luckily, he has like, a claw machine arm, and he catches his dad before he becomes a human smoothie.

This shocks Spike X badly enough that while he still has Megatron in gun mode, he takes a few pot shots at the Seekers and the Decepticons decide it’s time to bounce, so Megatron bails too.

He apologises for almost killing his dad, his dad is like hey no beef man, and it cuts to them in the hospital:

Sparkplug takes his son’s body back to the Autobot base (that sounds worse than it is), and they prepare to transfer him back into his body.

What’s extra funny here is that he nervously laughs and says “Hope you fixed this thing up good, Ratchet!” And Ratchet says absolutely nothing. Not a word.

It’s a success! Dad and son hug, totally not even addressing anything that happened this whole episode, because that’s a job for a therapist.

Ratchet, who continues to not really care about any of this, tells Wheeljack “You know, I could probably repair that mess, but I think it’s best that I don’t.” (This is a play on what Wheeljack said earlier in the episode when he offered to help Sparkplug fix up Autobot X to begin with.)

I love how tired Wheeljack looks. LOL

Spike, now recovered, leaves us with a great question to close out the episode: “I wonder what it’d be like for a robot mind to be transferred... to a human!”

Depending on what kind of kid you were, his question was either imagination fuel for fun humanformer ideas, or was a blatantly bad question indicating he learned nothing and providing nightmare fuel trying to imagine one of the Autobots losing their shit in a human body the same way Spike lost his shit while inhabiting Autobot X.

Anyway, great episode! 10/10 Scary, funny, creepy, Starscream got shot in the ass by a teenager.

#g1 #transformers #maccadam #optimus prime #ratchet #wheeljack #bumblebee #transformers review #g1 review #autobot spike #spike witwicky #sparkplug witwicky #megatron #starscream

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drarryruinedme7 · 3 years

Text

Last year I made a post with all my fave Drarry fics from my first year of fandom. Have my second year wrap up! Listed by Rating and then length.

RATING: TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES

Beautiful by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2017; 8.9k)

Summary: With the second task looming closer, Harry escapes to the Black Lake to open the egg, in the hopes of avoiding Myrtle. The Mersong isn't just helpful in figuring out that Mermaids are real, it attracts his very own handsome Merman.

*I didn’t know I love merpeople AUs until I read this one. It was cute and sweet and I’m really glad I read it.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi (2017; 93.3k)

Summary: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

*What can I say. This is a masterpiece, it absolutely entered my heart to never leave it again. Best AU ever!!!

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered (2018; 153.8k)

Summary: Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

* This has been the turning point of my Drarry passion this year. First, I discovered Lettered (good Lord why hadn’t I before?!) and then, well. This fic brought out so many feelings in me and I’ve already re-read it something like 5 or 6 times in the span of a few months. Amazing.

RATING: MATURE

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018; 20.7k)

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

* The angst!! It’s usually not my cuppa, but this was bittersweet and just so well written, I couldn’t stop reading. Find the rec for this one at this post.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by @tryslora (2012; 4k)

Summary: Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

*Super hot, I love finding old gems like this one. Plus, Italy. Go, folks!

Shiny Things, Slightly Damaged by @lqtraintracks (2020; 5.3k)

Summary: Harry may not ever have had to see it if McGonagall hadn’t decided it was a good idea to hold a ceremony on the grounds outside before the Sorting in the Hall. And by ‘it’ he’s referring to Draco Malfoy on a motorbike.

*jsklajdksajfa This one! THIS ONE! Slayed me. I read it feverishly and then like, fainted at Draco on a motorbike.... this fic surprised me and I 100% loved it.

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus (2020; 6k)

Summary: Harry hadn't expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it's the only thing that helps him let go.

*Dunno guys, I’m amazed by how much this one hit me. You should read the tags before diving in, but it was darkish in the right way, Harry and Draco suffers and find peace in a ‘’special’’ way, but I stand by it. Hot and intense.

Tell Me (What you Need) by @keyflight790 (2019; 6k)

Summary: Even though Harry was paying for his Dom, there were limits; breaking points in which someone would refuse, no matter how many Galleons were pushed in their direction.

*Okay, I may be biased because this is a gift for me, but Chris never lets down with her amazing writing and this has everything I need and more: Dom!Rentboy!Draco and a perfectly sweet Harry with a Daddy!kink. I mean.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (2014; 6.3k)

Summary: Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who's a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

*Y’all know Faith Wood is like my n.1 fave Drarry author. I have no idea why I had never read this one though!!! It’s actually phenomenal, scorching hot and just dsjkafjaks love this werewolf!Draco. OMG.

Scent and Sensibility by aidaninkling (2018; 7.5k)

Summary: [...] Draco's always known he'd be married off as a trophy omega, but suddenly his mother's trying to make him king by promising him to some stupidly good-looking alpha and she just won't stop smiling at him. Does fate's cruelty know no end?!

*This blew my mind. A/B/O AU so hot I melted while reading it and I loved it so much that I re-read it three times IN A ROW. No kidding. Read it.

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered (2012; 12k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

*Back to Lettered. I love Time Travel fics, and this just delivered perfectly. The ending was also enigmatic enough to keep me wandering, which I always appreciate in these kind of stories.

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum by @letteredlettered (2011; 17.9k)

Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

*LOL alright, I’ve developed a new obsession this year (clearly). This was ...gosh! Hot but it also gives away a certain level of intimacy and trust between Draco and Harry to be so open about their kinks... it was perfect.

On One’s Knees by pir8fancier (2008; 33.8k)

Summary: The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

* The fic which made me fall in love with DownAndOut!Draco.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette (2019; 49.2k)

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

*Okay y’all. Nerd is a great person and author. She is phenomenal. And this fic shows it so well. The pirate!AU the Drarry fandom both needed and deserved. Sublime.

Unhook the Stars by jad (2016; 70.5k)

Summary: [...] Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

*Again, Dom!Draco and such a beautiful sub!Harry. They stole my heart. In this fic they grow up together through the aftermath of the war and they just... they have this intense Dom/sub relationship, I can’t... explain how much I loved this. Scorpius also makes his appearance and it’s so real and cute!

Such Great Heights by aideomai (2015; 93.3k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

*This is one of the last ones I’ve read. Find my rec for it here. Such a cool fic, with a shunned Draco who gets to be so happy in the end, it made me happy too.

Burn The Witch by @lettersbyelise (2019; 95.8)

Summary: When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

*I do not have the words to express what this fic means to me. First of all, it’s how I met Elise who’s an amazing person and who I’m glad to call friend. She’s the sweetest. And also incredibly talented. This fic will take your breath away from the first word to the last one. Smol!Scorpius is perfectly characterised and my absolute favourite bit of the fic.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (2019; 99.7k)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

*Another incredible person who I got to know better thanks to her breathtaking storytelling and her sweetness for sharing it with me. Quick made something amazing with this fic and I urge you to read it. It was my first creature fic ever, first time I read about werewolves and I totally fell in love with it. Sheer perfection.

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid (2019; 169.5k)

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

*Well, could I just miss out on another one of Quick’s great works? With, again, Dom!Draco!??? No, I couldn’t! This is such a great exploration of BDSM and what it means and Harry’s path into it.

19 Years and 5 Minutes Later by TheMightyFlynn (2015; 202.8k)

Summary: Five minutes after his happily-ever-after, Harry finds himself locked in the public loos with an angry Draco Malfoy and a need that he has denied for 19 years.

*Find my rec for this fic here. It’s really long and has Ginny bashing, but it’s totally worth it!!

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic rec #drarry rec #draco x harry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fics #drarry fanfictions #my recs #two years of drarry #amazing authors #amazing stories

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exhausted-dog-mom · 3 years

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Underwater (2020) Fix It Fanfic

Last year, I was commissioned to write a fix it fic for the horror movie Underwater. I had no idea it was a horror movie until after I agreed to write it, lol. I'm a coward at the best of times and writing this gave me nightmares for months. It's 24k words and almost 55 pages long. I rewrote the whole dang movie, lol. The entire fic is on my Patreon, but here are the first 2k words.

Norah followed behind Rodrigo as they picked their way carefully through the debris. Her body shivered uncontrollably, her meager clothing long soaked through by water of questionable quality. The tinny, prerecorded voice of the infographics which once lined the walls echoed in the too tight hallways, skipping as sparks crackled along the broken screens. Great slabs of concrete and torn sheets of metal made their progress slow, their flashlights illuminating little more than water. The hallway they were following to CR-7 was far from a direct route, but it was the only one they were both able to traverse, and Norah knew she wasn’t alone in wanting to stick together—not after closing the bulkheads.

She dismissed that thought. She didn’t have time to think about that. Not when the path before them suddenly stopped, the way forward cut off by a serious cave in.

“Can we dig through there?” She asked, watching as Rodrigo crouched down and began moving loose bits of rubble.

He called back, uncertain but willing to try, and Norah began scanning the area for alternate routes. They didn’t have time to double back and find another way. The Kepler wouldn’t last long and every second they wasted not getting to the pods was another second the entire station deteriorated around them.

She took a chance and put her weight on a ledge above where Rodrigo was digging, shining her light down a narrow passage that might allow them both through. Maybe.

“Hey,” she called down to her colleague. “I can fit through there if you can.”

He came up and looked at her discovery, considering the rough looking tunnel.

Distantly, Norah heard something. A voice. She had to turn her head to catch it, the hearing in her left ear completely gone, but it was there.

“Hello?” She called out, hope rising in her throat. “Hello? Can you hear that?” She didn’t wait for Rodrigo’s response, leaving him behind as she clambered over derelict ductwork and dodged sharp edges, shining her flashlight on everything as she searched desperately for any sign of life. “Keep talking, I can hear you!”

She turned her right ear to the ground, tracing the source of the muffled voice to a pile of concrete slabs, the edges sharp against her hands as she began to pull on them with a strength she didn’t know she had. Rodrigo came up beside her, helping to free whoever was trapped underneath. The first thing she saw as they pulled back a layer of rubble was a stuffed rabbit, the furlike fabric covered in grease and who knew what else. She stared at it, confused, for all of two seconds before joy and recognition filled her with renewed vigor.

“Paul?” Sure enough, as she took the rabbit from upstretched hands, her friend’s face came into view, his eyes clenched shut against the brightness of Rodrigo’s flashlight. She handed the rabbit to Rodrigo, reaching down into the crevice to get better leverage for lifting Paul’s not insignificant weight. With Rodrigo’s help, she pushed back the final slab, revealing the drill worker in all his bare chested glory, his skin coated in dust and grime. His hand held on to hers tightly and she watched as recognition bloomed in his eyes.

“Norah?”

“Hi.” She was as breathless as he was, a shaky laugh passing through chattering teeth.

Paul smiled up at her, squeezing her hand as he laughed right back. “Oh, you sweet, flat chested elven creature.”

She couldn’t even be mad at him. She was sure she made quite the sight, in her sports bra and sweats, but it was no better than his.

She watched her friend breathe harshly for a second, lungs taking full advantage of their renewed capacity now that the weight of the debris was no longer crushing his chest. She knew the instant his brain had reoxygenated, because he turned to Rodrigo, a man he’d probably never interacted with before, like Norah, and asked after his rabbit.

His concern for his little buddy was endearing, though she knew the stuffed toy couldn’t hold a candle to the real Little Paul, alive and waiting seven miles above them on dry land.

Getting Paul out of the hole was a process, but they did it, the large man standing before them in nothing but a robe, boxers, and one lucky sock. He cradled the rabbit against his chest like a living animal, his attachment to the thing so much stronger after so long down in the deep.

Norah lead the way back down the hall, flickering blue lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. “There are pods in CR-7,” she explained over her shoulder, the joy she felt at finding her friend alive tempered by a renewed desperation to get out. “The upper decks are collapsing, so we’ve gotta move fast.”

She pulled herself up onto the ledge, Rodrigo helping her from below. She caught the tail end of Paul’s whining complaint and she rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to find something to complain about during a life or death situation.

Paul was much larger than either her or Rodrigo, but, as Norah crawled through the cramped tunnel, she was pretty sure he’d be able to fit. She had little trouble scooting through the dark, her movements sending the light from her flashlight in all sorts of disorienting directions. Everything was grey, with the exception of the odd wire or two, exposed copper stinging her wet skin as she brushed up against it. She turned back to look at her two companions, the men clearly having a harder time than she was.

“You guys ok?”

“Yeah,” Rodrigo nodded to her, dust clinging to his dark skin. Behind him, Paul grumbled out an affirming expletive.

Turning back, she immediately recoiled, flashlight dropping from her grasp and teeth clacking loudly in her skull.

Closing her eyes against the terrifying sight, she called back to the boys. “There’s-there’s someone up here.” She swallowed thickly. “It’s McClellen.”

Just like that, the high from unburying Paul was gone, replaced by the grim certainty that his survival was nothing short of a miracle and the odds of finding anyone else alive were incredibly slim.

How many were left alive? How many more would there be if she had waited just a little longer? How many were dead because of her?

McClellen had no answers for her, blue eyes locked unseeing on something far in the distance. Norah took a shaky breath, bolstering herself as she began to move past the other woman. Their hands touched as she did, the fading warmth she felt deepening the ever growing pit in her stomach.

If she’d waited, would McClellen still be alive?

Would Paul be dead?

Those questions, like all the others, were tossed aside as she resumed the slow journey forward, eyes locked on the darkness ahead of her. There was no telling what waited out there, just beyond the range of her flashlight, but she didn’t have time to lose herself to what ifs and should haves. There were two men behind her, two living, breathing men, and that was enough. It had to be enough.

The cramped tunnel let out to an open space—another hallway, by the looks of it—and Norah carefully climbed out and set her feet on the ground. The light here was red, a sign that the emergency systems were working, at least, and she could only hope that the way to the escape pods was open. She led the way, following a mental map of the rig as automated voices rang out overhead. Their flashlights reflected off the tall windows which surrounded the evacuation room, the reinforced glass surprisingly intact compared to the wreckage all around it. Norah stumbled over a rogue pipe, her mind going blank as it struggled to put together what she was seeing.

“Captain?”

Sparks flew, the display illuminating Captain Lucien’s back where he sat hunched over inside the closed off rotunda. He made no indication that he’d heard her, his head in his hands as he sat alone in the dark. Norah hit the control panel, but he didn’t react to the obnoxious sound it made in protest. Squinting through the glass, her heart sank as she took in the damage surrounding him, the escape pods they’d all put so much hope in clearly no longer an option.

“Shit.”

“Shit?” Paul winced as he came over to stand beside her, looking over her shoulder into the dark. “What’s shit?”

“The evac pods are gone.” Norah tuned out her friend’s frenzied cursing as she pounded on the glass, calling for her Captain. Could he even hear her through the reinforced windows? They were designed to withstand sudden changes in pressure—likely why they were still intact—but did that mean they also blocked out sound?

The answer was no, they couldn’t, and Norah deflated with relief when Lucien turned around, face lighting up as he recognized first her then the men behind her.

“Norah,” he called, his voice muffled but still intelligible through the glass as he rushed over. “You’re alive.” He didn’t sound like he believed it, but she could understand the sentiment. “The door’s jammed.”

Right. Of course, it was. He probably would have left if it wasn’t. Norah quickly moved over to the control panel, mentally apologizing to the machine for hitting it as she tried to find some way to override the lock. Absently, she recognized the Captain giving orders to Paul and Rodrigo, both men rushing to obey, though Paul complained loudly between hissing breaths.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad’s my rig?”

His attempt at humor fell a little flat and Norah looked up at him incredulously as the doors opened. “Uh,” she looked him up and down in the harsh white lights which conveniently decided to turn back on. His left arm was in a sling, miscellaneous bruises and cuts littered across his face. Shit. “Ten. We’re, um, seventy percent compromised—breathe too hard and we’re in trouble.”

He didn’t appreciate her candor, turning away from her with a grim expression before turning back around and reaching for her face with his good hand, looking at her damaged ear with a grimace.

“What happened,” she asked through chattering teeth, the two seconds she’d spent standing still reminding her body of how cold it was. “Was it an earthquake?”

“I don’t know.” That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

She watched, still somewhat dazed, as he pulled a large red med kit out from seemingly nowhere, using his one hand to its full effectiveness as he rummaged through it.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice forced its way through her tight throat, swallowing only thickening the knot living there. “Why are you still here? There were pods here, you could have left.”

He gave her a look she was sure he’d leveled on his child a thousand times before. It certainly made her feel like one. “That’s what Captains do.”

“Who cares?” She couldn’t stop the words or the incredulity which laced them. “You have a kid. You should have gone up.”

He froze, expression blank as his mouth opened and closed, eyes shut as he tried to find the words to respond to that. Instead, he urged her to sit down, returning to the med kit as though she hadn’t said anything.

“You know any one of us would have shoved your ass into a pod—.”

“Listen to me!”

Norah shut her mouth, staring wide eyed at her Captain as he kneeled in front of her, mouth tense as he glared up at her. His French accent was thicker in his anger, coloring his words as he gestured wildly with his good arm.

“Everyone is getting out of here alive.” He said it with such conviction, Norah was almost able to believe him. “You here me? I already sent twenty two up, Smith reported seven dead.”

Warmth spread in her chest at the news that Smith, at least, was still alive. She hadn’t let herself consider any other possibilities but having her old friend’s survival confirmed relieved a tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She gave a stuttering report of the dead she and Rodrigo had found before coming across Paul, and she struggled past telling him about McClellen, nonsensical words spilling from her lips—she lived three floors up, I was brushing my teeth, her hands were still warm, I shut the bulkheads on the entire East Wing so there’s definitely more.

Captain Lucien, to his credit, remained staunchly focused on cleaning her ear, damp gauze coming away from it bloody. Whatever was wrong with it, it stung when he touched it, the pain a welcome reminder that she was alive, only living people could bleed, and a grim one that so many people weren’t.

#fanfiction #my writing #underwater #underwater 2020 #this took months to finish #i really am a coward #nothing in the synopsis prepared me for a horror movie #i thought it was just a survival drama #lmao

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

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When Missions Go Right

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x afab!Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: After Frankie makes everyone believe he was killed during a mission, hours later you're still shaken from the reveal that it had been a ruse. You can't stand the idea that he might have never known how you felt about him, so later that evening, you go and check on him.

Tags: SMUT; minimal angst despite the summary lol; unprotected PinV sex (pls wrap it up irl); oral (f receiving); they briefly drink alcohol but are not drunk; swearing

Word count: 6,794 lmfao

A/N: Reader’s nickname is Mosquito- I wanted a nickname and my brain got stuck on this one once I thought of it sorry. It’s explained :)

---

You sit in your hut at your team's temporary camp in the jungle, fidgeting. You don't know why you’re so torn- there’s nothing weird about checking on a teammate after a stressful mission, and you and your boys had done it for each other countless times before. This time is different, though. This time had shaken you more than any other incident, after you thought Frankie had- No. You exhale.

Just thinking of him emerging after the mission that day, appearing when you thought he was lost, causes another swell of emotion to rise in you, hot tears filling your eyes. You clap your hands over your mouth, force yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. Frankie had looked so surprised at everyone's reaction to his reappearance: stunned, relieved tears and a five-person hug that had pulled everyone to the ground in a tangle, with himself at the center. You don't know what he had expected. His impromptu plan hadn't been ideal, sure, but it had made their mission a success, and he was alive.

You smile a little at the memory. The quiet relief on Frankie's face, how soft and vulnerable he looked surrounded by affection, dust and sweat in his hair. Your smile fades at the remembrance of what had happened next. After everyone had untangled and straightened up, Santiago held out Frankie's hat to him, retrieved from where it had fallen during their dogpile. Frankie had secured it on his head, smiling cautiously at his friend. Then Santiago had punched him in the face.

“Don't you ever do that again!” Santi's voice had cracked. In the split second before he turned and strode away, you caught a glimpse of his eyes, turbulent and red-rimmed with emotion. Frankie, holding his jaw, had stared after him in shock. The Miller boys offered reassurance: “He'll be okay, Catfish. You guys are close. He was just upset.”

“We all were,” you added, stepping closer. Frankie's attention had focused on you for the first time since his return. Apprehension in his eyes, guilt and worry clearly visible on his face. You didn't let yourself think about what those dark eyes did to you as you flung yourself at him, hugging him fiercely. It was only partly to hide your face that you buried it in his neck. Santiago’s outburst echoed your own anger at Frankie’s deception, at him making you believe he was dead- but now was not the time to deal with it.

You had made no effort to stop the tears as you breathed in Frankie's scent, muddled with sweat and gunmetal. His arms wrapped around you carefully, one hand cradling the back of your head. Holding each other the way you were, his voice seemed to rumble through you, low and warm. “Hey, Mos. Thought you were gonna punch me too there for a sec.”

Memories flooded through you at the sensation- all the other times the two of you had been this close. Dancing to sultry music in some club, both of you too tired to pretend to mind lying pressed together in a cramped tent-

You exhaled, shoving the memories aside. Now was also not the time for that particular train of thought or its familiar destination.

Pulling back, you gave him a watery smile. “Nah, I think Pope did enough damage.”

You kissed him lightly on the cheek Santiago had just punched. Frankie's eyes were wide when you looked up at him, but you ignored the fluttering in your chest and turned your soft look into a glare. “But you'll get what's coming to you after that stunt.” His bulletproof vest was hard under your finger as you jabbed it into his chest.

You hardly held up the glare for a minute before it cracked, and Frankie chuckled in relief. “Whatever you say, Mosquito. Let's just get out of here.”

Skirting the edge of your team's small camp, you pause to scan for anyone else moving around in the dark. Briefly you find yourself distracted by the brightness of the full moon above, the beauty of the starry sky this far from any major towns. The remote location of this mission was why you were all still in camp tonight, instead of blowing off steam at some local watering hole. Usually some booze was brought along anyway, so you could unwind around the campfire, but you suppose things are a bit tense for that after today. Secretly, you're glad. You don't want to have to compete with everyone else for Frankie's attention tonight.

Now, you blink rapidly to clear the tears from your eyes. Taking a final deep breath, you stand. You had done enough crying since then; it was time for a different kind of release.

Mosquito. Sneaking around in the night like this, you're reminded of your nickname's origins. After a particularly successful mission, Santiago had been raving over your skills of infiltration. “...hitting 'em before they even knew they were there! Bam!” Crowing with laughter, their victory relaxing him as much as the booze.

“Like a mosquito,” Frankie had murmured, just barely peeking out from under the brim of his cap. The bugs had been particularly bad in that region, but the look in Frankie's eyes was anything but. Gleaming with admiration in the dim bar light, a knowing amusement quirking his mouth into a smile- because Santiago's jaw had dropped. “Mosquito! Yes! ‘Fish, you're a genius!” Before Frankie could stop him, his friend had stolen his hat, ruffled his hair, and planted a kiss on his head with a smack.

You laughed as Frankie snatched his cap back. Santiago lifted his beer and spoke ceremoniously. “From this moment on, you will be known as: Mosquito.”

“Here, here,” Benny and Will had enthused, holding up their own bottles.

You shook your head, but there was no arguing with it. You clinked the neck of your beer with Pope's. “Mosquito it is.” The conversation drifted then, but you had looked at Frankie meaningfully. You lifted your bottle almost imperceptibly in acknowledgment. You're still not sure if the blush on his cheeks was from your appreciation, or Santi's smooch.

A buzzing near your ear reminds you that there are also bugs in your current environment, and that you've been standing here long enough. Certain there is no one around to see, you slip around the side of Frankie's hut to where a camo-patterned blanket hangs as a door. You knock lightly on the wood beside it. “Catfish? It's me,” you call softly. “Can I come in?”

There's a rustle and the sound of a throat clearing. “Yeah.”

You push aside the blanket just enough to step beyond it. It falls back into place behind you with a swish, and you blink as your eyes adjust. Contrary to the cool moonlight falling outside, the hut is lit only by a lantern sitting on the nightstand. In the dim, warm orangish glow, the figure perched on the edge of the bed is a study of shadows. You catch your breath as Frankie lifts his head.

Frankie “Catfish” Morales epitomizes the phrase “it's always the quiet ones”. But what he doesn't say out loud, you can always read in his eyes. Endlessly expressive, occasionally accompanied by an eyebrow raised to varying heights, they never fail to draw you in.

“Hey, ‘Squito. Come to take your shot?”

Your brow furrows. That wasn't what you expected. The guys only called you ‘squito' or ‘skeeter’ when they wanted to needle you. Buying time, you cast your eyes around the small space. A few square feet at the foot of the bed where Frankie had dumped some gear; the single bed that Frankie sits on, three feet in front of you; and the nightstand at the head of the bed, a surprisingly homey feature. On it sits the lantern, Frankie's dog tags, and- ah- a tall bottle filled with golden liquid.

“Only if that's tequila I see,” you reply.

Frankie looks caught off-guard for a beat. Then a huff of laughter escapes him. “Make yourself at home.”

So saying, he pushes himself backwards on the bed, loosely crossing his legs in front him and resting his head against the wall. His eyes drift shut.

You snatch the bottle up with one hand and use the other to maneuver onto the bed next to him, mirroring his position. Consciously, you make sure your knees touch. Despite your earlier anger and whatever Frankie seemed to be thinking now, you want him to know you're here for him. His leg hair prickles against your skin, pleasant and familiar and warm.

"How many have you had?"

"Just two."

“Easy catch-up, then.” You remove the shot glass resting upside down on top of the bottle, fill it up, and knock it back. You can't help but shudder as it goes down, warmth settling in your belly.

You turn your head to find Frankie's eyes open and fixed on you. You swallow reflexively at how close your faces suddenly are, how depthless his eyes look in the lamplight.

“How's the tequila?”

You blink, barely registering his words.

He nods down to the bottle resting on your knee. “It's a new kind.” His low, raspy voice, normally comforting, now feels like it's sliding along your bones, setting them alight and turning them to liquid all at once.

You blink several more times and resist the urge to clear your throat. You glance down at the bottle. The label looks vaguely familiar, but not as much as it would if it were a brand he or Santi normally bought. And you would know; you've drank with them both countless times, enough to know their preferences.

“It's good,” you say. You offer it back to him.

He takes it, moving at a leisurely pace as he unscrews the cap. You watch the deftness of his hands, your gaze traveling up his arms- perhaps not as defined as Santiago's or Benny's, but just as capable of holding you tight. The lantern's glow gleams on his brown skin, the line of his throat as he tips his head back.

Your gaze catches on the strands of hair that drift along his brow. Usually they're tucked beneath his cap, even after-hours- an easy target for teasing amongst the guys. But tonight they're free, and you wonder at how soft they look. If Frankie would let you touch them, the tiny curls at his temple.

One eyebrow raises into your line of sight, interrupting your train of thought, and you realize he's caught you staring. Flushing, you wordlessly take the bottle back from him and sling another shot, before setting it down on the bed next to you.

After a beat of hesitation, you lean your head on his shoulder. “What's wrong, Catfish?”

You can feel him struggling to decide what to say. “Benny and Will caught me by the campfire. Scolded me for pulling such an idiotic stunt. You know the drill.”

“But then they slapped you on the back for it working out so well, right?” That's how their “scoldings” usually went.

“Yeah. Just not until after a solid helping of guilt. And I still haven't spoken to Santiago.”

You sigh. How could he not understand? You reach out and take his right hand in your left, entwining your fingers and pulling them toward you. Both of you happen to be wearing old, standard-issue PT shorts as pajamas; short enough for Frankie's hand to be resting on bare skin where you hold it against your leg.

“Frankie.” He seems reluctant to look you in the eye. “Hey,” you say, softer this time. He lifts his gaze. “It was an idiotic stunt. Brilliant, and it worked, but…” Frankie looks like he's bracing for a blow. “We thought we lost you, Frankie. How could we not be messed up by that?”

For that had been part of what made his plan so risky. Frankie hadn't counted on his team being so upset and distracted by his apparent loss that they could have been caught for real.

Seeming agitated, Frankie runs a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I heard it all earlier.”

You wonder if Benny and Will had mentioned, if they had noticed, just how uprooted you had felt. You and Santiago both; their unflappable teammates, nearly unhinged.

You wait until he looks at you again. All traces of moisture seem to have evaporated from your mouth. “I thought I lost you, Frankie,” you whisper.

He remains still as this realization unfolds, unfurling like a flower in the sun. Revealing in crystal clarity what you had both been carefully stepping around for months. Longer. His eyes rove over your face as if searching for any possibility of a joke, a catch; his breathing quickens as his gaze flickers over the rest of you, taking in your knees pressed together and your hands entwined above them.

He reaches out with his free hand and slowly, delicately cradles your face. His skin is callused where his thumb strokes your cheek. Slowly, as if this was a dream he didn't want to wake from, he dips his head toward you until he is only a breath away.

“That's never gonna happen, Mos.” The words hang in the space between you for a heartbeat, an eternity. Frankie's gaze drops to your mouth for an instant; you feel the glance zip through you with a physical certainty. One of you must lean forward, or both of you- but in the next moment, without any movement you're aware of, your lips meet.

If either of you had been unsure earlier, you weren't now. Frankie kisses you like you're the air he needs to breathe; your free hand clutches a fistful of his t-shirt in an effort to pull him even closer.

His lips are improbably soft compared to his pilots' hands. You lightly run your tongue along them and his mouth opens for you, warm and welcoming. Frankie lets out a muffled groan as he tastes you, his hand shifting back to grip the nape of your neck. A needy sound scrapes the back of your throat at the feeling, the discovery of how much you trust his hands there, and fuck, you realize- you’re in even deeper than you thought.

But as suddenly as it had started, it stops. Frankie pulls back just far enough for the two of you to look at each other. Your ragged breathing mingles in the space between you. A breeze outside ripples the bottom of the blanket-door, the cool air a welcome contrast to your heated skin.

Through the overwhelming desire hazing your thoughts, you realize you're still holding hands. You glance down your lap and laugh a little, easing some of the tension. Squeezing his hand, you look back up at him. He's smiling too, despite the fact that his torso is still twisted toward you, straining to be close to you.

“Are you...okay?” you venture.

“Never better,” he answers, almost absently. He disentangles your hands to rest his flat on your bare thigh, his thumb stroking the skin, and you close your eyes at the touch. That such a small motion could wash through your whole body, make you hollow with want...when you open your eyes again, Frankie is looking at you with such intensity it steals your breath. “I just want to be sure that you're okay. With this. Us.”

Gently holding his hand in place against your thigh, you shift your bottom half so it aligns with the top half of you, facing him. Tentatively, you rest your hands on Frankie's leg so as to still be touching him. “This isn't just about today, you know? What happened today may have...triggered it, but this isn't a new feeling. I want you, Frankie. I care about you.” You look him in the eye at the last sentence, praying you've said the right thing.

But oh, have you- because Frankie looks like he wants to devour you whole. “Fuck,” he growls, and surges into you, his mouth crashing into yours. He wraps an arm around your waist, bending you backward while hauling you against his body, which now kneels over yours.

Instinctively you throw your arms around him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you above the mattress. Heat surges through you at such a blatant demonstration of Frankie's strength, especially as his lips continue to move along your jaw and his teeth tug on your earlobe. “No more words,” he rasps, and that's all the warning you get before he's crawling the rest of the way up the bed, one arm holding you to him the entire time. Your feet scramble to help propel yourself along with him.

You've felt tantalizing brushes of Frankie’s muscles before, and now his every motion introduces the same tortuously brief sensations. When he finally lowers you to the bed his body chases yours, pressing himself into you, and you both groan aloud, finally able to give into the desire to sink into each other.

There's a dull thud and the sound of liquid sloshing as the tequila bottle is knocked off the bed, but Frankie seems to have only one thing on his mind. He is everywhere at once while you writhe beneath him; his teeth sink into your shoulder as he sucks possessive marks there, his hands span your hips and slide up your skin in a way that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you gasp, and he hums, dark and approving, from where his nose is tracing patterns down your belly.

“I like you saying my name, querida.” His breath is hot on your skin as he presses kisses up your ribs, steadily rucking up your shirt. He's probably already guessed that you aren't wearing a bra: you never do when the team is officially off-duty, a question that was once asked and quickly settled the first time it came up, in a camp much like this one.

You spare a thought as to if you should feel self-conscious that you're also not wearing underwear. After spending so much time sweating in jungles, you like to let things breathe when you can. You didn't plan for this to be happening tonight.

But then you imagine Frankie's reaction when he discovers your single bottom layer, and you decide not to worry.

You're lured out of your thoughts by Frankie's voice, coaxing, asking: “Take this off for me, dulzura?”

Barely a glance down at his beseeching eyes has you moving with impossible eagerness. You half sit up to oblige him, thinking that you would do just about anything with him sounding like that. His voice as rough as his hands and just as tangible against your skin, just as capable of inciting the slickness between your thighs.

You pull your shirt over your head, arching your back a little more than strictly necessary for him. Your nipples harden as they're exposed to the air, exposed to him- because Frankie is staring, his lips parting like he's already imagining them being on you.

You give in to the urge to plunge your hands into his hair, running the soft strands between your fingers and then tugging, reminding him that he can do more than imagine. His eyes snap to your face and you have half a second to register their wicked gleam before he's on you. His hands grace your breasts first, callused fingers as capable directing your body as they are his machines. You wonder if it's the tequila or his touch that has your head spinning so- his mouth warms you better than any liquor, and the slide of his tongue on your nipples makes you cry out.

Your hands scrabble at him during his ministrations, determined to wreck him as thoroughly as he’s wrecking you. You roll your hips into his thigh, wedged between your own, but any thoughts beyond repeating that single motion fly out of your head when you feel the hard length of his arousal. You rake your nails down his back- gently at first- but the guttural noise he makes when you do convinces you to do it again, harder. He shudders above you, and when you continue downward to squeeze his ass, he exhales shakily.

“Fuck me, querida.” Frankie sits up, his weight pinning your legs, rendering you unable to continue tormenting him.

“That’s the idea,” you say cheekily, before your jaw falls slack at the sight of him yanking his shirt over his head by the neck. He chuckles at the look on your face.

“You were saying something, Mosquito?” he quips, bending down to kiss you again. You both gasp at the sensation of your bare skin meeting. His kiss is searing, claiming, and you can’t get enough. How had you not given in to this before now? Every inch of him, every sound he makes, is familiar- you’ve gotten used to catching glimpses of him out in the field; you’ve heard him spill endearments and sweet sounds in your ear on the dance floor after one too many rounds (no matter that neither of you ever brought it up the next morning). But now, with the world tilted sideways and all your senses tuned to him at once- every sensation is utterly new, and you want them all.

You want Frankie to feel them too; you wrap your arms around him, caressing newly exposed skin as he sighs into your mouth. Your hands slip beneath his shorts to stroke the divots of his hip bones, but before you can reach for the maddening hardness between them he stops you, tearing his mouth from yours with a snarl.

“Not yet, dulzura,” he says. You've never seen his eyes so hooded with lust, the meaningful smirk playing on his lips. “Ladies first.”

Fuck, you’ve never been so turned on in your life. You whimper helplessly as his hands and mouth descend to the waistband of your shorts. Just barely coherent, you lift your hips so he can slide them off- and watch the smugness vanish from his expression.

“You’re not wearing- were you?” Frankie looks dumbfounded, his voice hoarse.

You almost laugh. As if you’d had a chance to slip off your panties without him seeing since you arrived? “I wasn’t, no. It’s an occasional habit.” It’s your turn smirk at him, broadly, as his expression immediately goes hazy, imagining the implications of that.

You squirm a little where you lie, your shorts pulled down just enough to reveal your sex. Laying there mostly naked, your bottom half restrained, you can already feel tension coiling in your core. Frankie’s attention focuses again at your movement. Everything feels hypersensitive against your skin: the thin sheets beneath you, Frankie’s knuckles on your thighs where he still grips your shorts. Even his gaze as he drags it down your body, coming to rest on where he’s just exposed.

He tugs your shorts down and over your feet. Sliding his hands back up you slowly, he eases your legs apart, pressing kisses as he goes. Each one warm and deliberate, soft and slightly ticklish from his facial hair. As he reaches the apex of your thighs his tongue traces hot lines toward where you want him- teasing, warning. He breathes your name, and your eyes meet.

You’ve been watching him make his way up your body, enthralled by the sight. You never imagined that sex with Frankie would be like this (to the point that you let yourself imagine sex with Frankie at all)- equal parts silly and smoldering, with an aura of reverence around the whole thing, like neither of you ever dreamed this would really happen. Now he refocuses on what’s closer to him: you, soaked by the evidence of just how much you want him. He circles your entrance with one thumb, testing, and spreads the wetness up to your clit. You gasp and buck your hips as he continues this circuit, back and forth, for several seconds.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan in a higher pitch, an unspoken plea for more.

In the time it takes you to register the satisfied smile and promising glint in his eyes, he’s lowered his head and licked a long, hot line directly up your center. Then he hooks his thumbs into you, spreading you open, and does it again.

“Fuck!” you swear and pant and grip the mattress as Frankie’s tongue works you, like nobody you’ve ever been with. You feel pinned down with the way he holds you open and you love it, like you’re for his pleasure and not the other way around. Like he could do this all night but oh, you’d never last that long. You have to remind yourself not to moan so loud as he sucks on your clit; the thin wooden walls of this hut feel too small for the feeling overtaking you as Frankie licks into you, fucking you with his tongue.

Thin walls, thin walls- “Frankie!” you cry desperately, all the muscles in your body contracting as his mouth brings you to the edge-

“Yes, querida please, let go for me,” he urges, and his rough, low voice combined with his mouth latching back onto you is all it takes for you to come, hips rearing, your body shuddering under him as pleasure pulses through you. With eager, steady strokes of his tongue, Frankie draws out your orgasm like he’s the one who never wants it to end.

As the high gradually passes, you move one hand to rest in his hair. “Stop,” you say weakly. You tug gently, but otherwise don’t move from where you lie with your eyes closed, still catching your breath.

You hear him chuckle; you don’t even want to think about how smug he probably looks. Frankie presses a last kiss to your inner thigh and then crawls up your body, pressing his still-clothed hips into yours.

“Is that all you can take, Mosquito?” he teases.

Instinctively you lift your hips to meet him- and your eyes fly open as his cock lines up with your center. Frankie lets out possibly the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard, a cut-off, huffing groan, and his eyes flutter shut as his face contorts.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, and the feel of his length (because it is a length, you think dizzily) pressing at your entrance, even encased in shorts, jolts you right back to life, thrumming with want. Your lips curve into a smile. “If that’s your reaction while you still have pants on, Catfish, I’m not sure you can take much more,” you drawl.

He grumbles something unintelligible in Spanish, lowering his head to nip at your neck. His hardness slides against you deliberately as you giggle and then gasp. When one large hand grips your hip you whimper, and Frankie’s husky voice sounds in your ear. “Those are the sounds I want to be hearing right now, dulzura.”

His commanding tone makes you flush with need, and you whimper again, wondering how this man could possibly give you so much bliss and still have you aching for more. You tug at his shorts. “Take these off.”

“Oh, you’re giving the orders now, huh?” Frankie raises an eyebrow, but slides off the bed to oblige. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband, and you suddenly find it hard to focus on anything else.

“Well, I can’t let you have all the fun,” you say, your mouth forming the words while all your attention is on his hips, the incremental amounts of skin being revealed as he slowly draws down his shorts.

Your mouth goes dry as the proud length of him springs free, his shorts finally falling to the floor. His cock looks just as long as it felt pressed against you, the tip gleaming with moisture, and you feel yourself clench at the thought of taking him inside you. You run your eyes back up him, following the trail of hair to the dusting over his chest, the span of his shoulders. Lost in your admiration of his beautiful, soft, strong body, you’re almost startled when you hear him speak.

“Like what you see?” Frankie’s gruff voice draws your attention back to his face. You feel a pang of surprise at the trepidation there, and you wonder what that eyebrow means this time. Is he...shy?

A smile fights to bloom on your face, but you hold it back, just for a moment. “Oh, do I,” you purr, shifting smoothly to stand in front of him. The wooden floor beneath your bare feet is rough but not splintery. He watches you move, lust darkening his gaze as he rakes it over you again.

“Francisco Morales,” you say. Your grin flowers fully across your face then, and you try to channel every ounce of suppressed affection you ever felt as you aim it at him.

A shy smile flickers across his face as he absorbs your affection; he has the gall to look almost surprised by it. Your exasperating, wonderful man. Thinking about everything that led you here makes your eyes feel hot again; the idea that he might have been gone without you ever telling him, showing him, what he really means to you.

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, burrowing your face into his chest. Frankie stifles a gasp as your hips press into him, but returns the gesture, understanding. He strokes your hair with one hand.

“It’s okay, querida. I’m here. I’ll always be here,” he vows softly.

You tilt your head up at his declaration, blinking watery eyes. He gently catches your chin and lowers his lips to yours. You sigh-moan into his kiss, letting it melt your worries away, stretching up on your toes to meet it equally. Frankie’s tongue is hot in your mouth as it intensifies; your knees feel weak. Finally you tear away from him with a gasp, breathing heavily.

“You okay, Mos?” Frankie’s hand rests on the back of your neck again. After that kiss, it makes it even more difficult to think clearly, but you’re more okay than you’ve ever been.

“Never better.” With a smile, you echo his words from earlier. Your hands wander down the muscles of his back, coming to settle on his now bare ass. You look at him from under your lashes and bite your lip.

He answers your look with an equally sensual smile, his hands caressing down your spine to mirror your position. Thick fingers massage your rear before gripping firmly, fitting your hips to his. Your eyes flutter shut. Frankie’s body slots against your own perfectly, all its curves and contours molding to yours like pieces of a puzzle box sliding smoothly into place, holding something secret and wonderful within.

All the nerves in your body zero in on the hard length pressed between you. Frankie’s cock burns with heat, and you can feel every ridge and vein where it rasps against your skin.

“Dulzura,” Frankie says, his mustache tickling your ear. “How do you feel about taking this back to the bed?”

You giggle and nod your consent, eyes shining. Frankie groans in relief and bundles you backward. Your back hits the mattress and he climbs atop you, your limbs tangling, kissing and caressing with mounting fervor. Your back arches and a breathy cry scrapes free as his cock drags through your sensitive folds. Frankie lets out a guttural moan at the feeling, clutching at you like he can’t get close enough.

“Frankie...’Fish,” you gasp, through the chaos of your thoughts. You have just enough willpower to pull back and meet his gaze. “Flip us over?”

Desire flares in his eyes. In a blurringly quick move, he spins you, and then you’re atop him, the base of his cock nestled against your sex. Frankie groans again at the sensation, seeming beyond words. He palms your thighs, your breasts. You feel short of breath, consumed by the need sweeping through you.

You wrap your hand around Frankie’s cock, stroking firmly. He makes a choked sound and his hips buck up from the bed.

“Mos,” he grits out. “Please.”

All you can do is nod. Rising up on your knees slightly, you position yourself over him, grasping his cock and running the tip of him through your wetness. Thighs trembling, you line him up at your entrance.

Frankie reaches for your free hand and entwines your fingers, prompting you to look up and meet his gaze. His hand squeezes yours in a wordless question.

Your heart swells, and you feel impossibly fond as you smile at him. Your Frankie. Even as far gone as you both are, he’s checking on you. Making you feel safe. In answer, you lower yourself down onto him.

The effect is swift and immediate. Your moans are loud enough to wake the stars; you forget everything but each other’s pleasure, the absolute euphoric rightness of this feeling.

Then you clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. “Shhh!” you remind him giddily.

Frankie looks utterly gone, his lips parted, awe and adoration on his face. The hair on his forehead is damp with sweat. “Move for me, querida,” he says, and the strained, pleading rasp in his voice shoots heat straight to your core.

You set a steady rhythm on him, your eyes fluttering shut as Frankie’s cock fills you, stretches you so deliciously you can already feel a familiar pressure building. The sinful ease with which he slides in and out of you is a testament to just how wet you are. His fingers stroke and squeeze your flesh in time with his vocal gasps, and when they brush your cheek, you open your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mumble. You’ve always thought Frankie was beautiful, but this…the muscles in his arms flex and pull through your movements. The intensity in his dark eyes as they drink in every inch of you, like he still can’t believe this happening. The restraint he’s showing, letting you set the pace, is evident in the tension you can feel in his body beneath you. It makes you grind your hips down, squeeze him, wanting to push past his cautiousness.

Frankie chokes back a shout at your change in rhythm, throwing his head back and exposing the length of his neck. Immediately you lean down to trace it with your tongue, relishing the taste of salt on his skin. He swears.

He grasps the back of your neck for the third time that night, and you whimper, ecstasy thrilling down your spine. “Please, Frankie,” you breathe, not even knowing what you’re asking for.

“Yes,” he answers roughly. He kisses you and then tugs you back upright. This time he thrusts up into you, hard, and the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the air. You cry out, needy and desperate, and Frankie growls in approval.

“Fuck, yes, Mos. Want to hear you, want you to feel good…” his praise stutters, some of it in Spanish now as his pace quickens.

Only Frankie could make you feel this good, and you make sure he knows it. He grips your hips firmly enough to bruise, but you don’t care; you want it, want him to mark you. Claim you, so there will never be any question about it again. You are his, completely.

“Frankie, my Frankie..” Pleas and praise tumble from your lips.

“Fuck, yeah.” Maybe he likes the idea of being yours, too, because he moans loudly in response. His palm splays against your side, slides across your skin until his thumb presses down on your clit.

Your nerves jolt. Fuck, you’re gonna come. Frankie’s thrusts speed up- had you said that out loud? Your breathing quickens; you can feel the tension rising in you as surely as a cresting wave.

“Mos,” Frankie gasps. “Can I..?” His eyes flicker to where your bodies connect.

You understand his meaning and your eyes widen. “Yes!” And the idea of him spilling himself inside you, the sudden force of his thrusts, the pressure of his thumb- the wave breaks.

Blinding pleasure crashes through you, a roaring in your ears muffling everything else. Distantly you feel yourself shake and keen; your walls pulse around Frankie’s cock, and then a new heat fills you as his hips slam into yours and stay there, buried deep. He groans, long and low in his throat.

There’s a moment of stillness as you both recover, the only sound your heaving breaths. Feeling wobbly, you topple forward, catching yourself with your palms on Frankie’s chest. You let out a soft groan as aftershocks ebb though you, every nerve singing.

“...Mos,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes still closed.

“Mm,” you manage, words still beyond your abilities.

“That was fucking amazing,” he breathes out the words on a sigh. He releases your hips to cover your hands with his. His eyes open. “You’re fucking amazing,” he says with more strength.

You can feel yourself blush. “Frankie...” You duck your head.

“Uh-uh, dulzura,” he scolds. He tips your chin back up. “You know I’ve always thought that about you.” He holds your gaze, his clear-eyed certainty so unlike the careful distance he kept before.

You lean down and press a kiss to his heart before snuggling into him, nose against his neck. He’s still inside you, softening slowly, and you savor the intimacy and connectedness of it. “I know,” you respond. “I’m just sorry I never did anything about it.”

Frankie strokes a soothing hand along your back. The air is close and humid after your exertions, and your skin is faintly damp with sweat. “Nothing to be sorry for. I never did anything either,” he points out.

You chuckle, a bit nervously. “Well, we’ve done something now.”

You can feel his laugh rumble through his chest, comforting, like the reverse of a cat purring on your lap. “No kidding.”

You wait, sensing he has more to say.

“Querida,” he prompts softly. You lift your head to look at him. His hair is a mess, all sweat-damp curls, and though his face is serious, his eyes are as soft as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart squeezes.

“I care about you too. You know our lives are crazy, and dangerous, so I was scared to say anything. Scared you didn’t feel the same. But...I can’t go back to you not knowing. I’m all in, Mos. If you want this, so do I.”

Frankie’s face is open, vulnerable. How could he possibly imagine that you’d want to go back? You shake your head at him. “Well, there’s no way I can top that speech, ‘Fish.” It feels like he’s holding his breath. You level an exasperated, affectionate look at him. “Of course I want this. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Before you’re even done speaking he’s kissing you, his lips and tongue saying what words cannot. As it deepens you shift forward, and Frankie’s cock slips out of you, causing you both to flinch and then laugh. His face crinkles adorably, and the moment makes you indescribably happy- the kind of contentment that comes from realizing you know exactly what you want. And right now, it’s this perfect, effortless bond you have with Frankie.

He gives you a shy smile. You lay your head down on his chest, overcome by a wave of satisfied tiredness. Idly you trace shapes across his abdomen with a finger while you speak. “You know, Catfish, your chest is much comfier than my bed. Mind if just I sleep here?”

He chuckles, and you think hearing Frankie’s laugh through his chest might be your new favorite sound. His arms, still wrapped around you, squeeze you lightly. “Please; stay.” He reaches out and clicks off the lantern. Despite the darkness, you get the feeling that both of you are still thinking, absorbing everything that just happened, but gradually your thoughts lull towards sleep.

Until Frankie’s voice slides through the dark: “I can’t believe you weren’t wearing underwear.”

---

A/N: Thank you for reading!! This is the first fic I’ve ever written, pls be nice. Fun fact, I originally intended for this to be a Frankie x Reader x Santi fic, but then decided I was getting too into the Frankie x Reader feels to do that. HOWEVER, if anyone is interested and even if no one asks lol, I might still write a threesome AU of this scenario

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fic #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #baby's first fic!!

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