#but I don’t ant to be that bitter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fidogo · 2 years

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And the truth of the matter is (I'll never let you go) - J.S

Synopsis: Jake Seresin hates you. Or is given no choice but to hate you after you decide to hate him first. Which sucks, because he dreams of dating you, marrying you, fucking you, the whole nine yards.

Tags: NSFT, miscommunication, enemies to lovers (kinda), F!Reader, mentions of gender and sexism, infactual Naval Control Room (sorry babes I have no clue what goes on in there and did not fact check), alcohol, sappy emotions, unprotected sex (Don’t do this!), penetrative sex, sub!reader, Dom!Jake, squirting, creampie, overstimulation, spanking, brief cockwarming

Word Count: 4.3K

AN: pretty silly in concept as in I know nothing about Naval control rooms and instead of learning or changing things just barreled on ahead because I felt compelled lmao I also tend to not like miscommunication tropes but once again…something compelled me

Jake Seresin fucking hates you.

Well not really. To be quite honest, he thinks you may be the prettiest thing he’s seen in years. He has dreams where he wakes up next to you, fantasies of taking you to Texas, making sure you never had to lift another finger unless you wanted to.

So no.

He doesn’t hate you. But dear God he seems to be doing everything wrong.

And he never does anything wrong.

But anytime he flirts with you, dropping the ole’ Seresin charm, your lips curl up at him, unimpressed. (He wants to bite them. Or kiss them). You always roll your eyes, pat his arm and leave him hanging.

He hates it.

So he ups the ante, deviating from your carefully calculated flight instructions. He easily sails through the air, gliding between clouds and aces through the training and exercises.

By the time Jake lands his plane, he’s elated, adrenaline pumping, muscles tense, and craving something hot, something more.

Except it’s worse when he sees you that night. He practically turns red when you completely ignore him. Turning on your pretty little heels, not even giving him the time of day.

He grabs your forearm on your way out, brows pinched in frustration at your lack of attention. At least before, when you talked to him, you were friends of some sort.

But now you rip your arm out of his grasp, anger evident.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Hangman,” you mutter before disappearing into the night. You never call him Hangman outside of work.

So yes, Jake Seresin hates you now.

Any conversation between the two of you changed after that day. It’s always tinged in anger, some sort of bitterness. He can’t figure out what he did wrong, and you won’t tell him, and it just further cements the fact that he has to put those dreams of you to rest. He continues to defy you when he’s up in the air, but he’s no longer trying to impress you, no, it’s petty and cruel now.

He lets the wound fester, lets it grow and spread, turn vile enough that the others eventually take notice.

Phoenix hangs by you when you’re all together, a loyal shadow, talons out whenever he gets too close. Rooster's loud and annoying as ever, picking up on the tension and doubling down on his clown routine to dissipate the heaviness.

Jake finds himself embarrassed when Bob looks at him with sympathetic eyes. If you didn’t want to talk to him fine. He doesn’t need you or your goodwill (God he wants you so bad though).

Coyote finds him at a barbecue one night. He hands him a beer wordlessly and just stays with him. It’s quiet and nice, making the ache he’s been feeling recently disappear a little.

“You should talk to her.” Coyote's usually calming voice sounds abrasive to Jake; his hackles go up.

“Jake.” Javy’s tone stops him from pouncing. “I’m serious. Just talk to her. You’ll both feel better.” He slaps his back, wandering over to Fanboy and Payback as the sun dips into the sea, the sky painted in orange and pinks.

You’re sitting by yourself on top of a picnic table, a little away from the group, gaze glued to the sunset.

You look like a fucking angel right now. Something straight out of his dreams.

Fuck it.

Shock finds its way onto your face as you see him walking towards you, his muscled body moving with purpose. Wide eyes watch him before they narrow turning towards the sand.

“Go away, Hangman,” you spit. “Do I need to get Natasha over-“

“What did I do wrong? Tell me what I did.” He cuts you off abruptly, and there’s a twinge of guilt and desperation that colors his words. It’s different than any of your previous conversations. No cocky charm, no anger, just a solemness that leaves your jaw hanging as you gape at him.

He barrels through your silence, sitting on the table next to you. “I can’t fix this,” gesturing between the two of you, “unless you tell me what I did to make you hate me so much.”

Jake briefly notes the way you look at him like a deer in headlights, it’s a look he hasn’t seen on your face before. He wonders what other faces you could make for him.

“You really don’t know?” Your voice softly cuts through the air, anxiety underlining your words. He shakes his head, watching the way you chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare at the darkening sky.

A silence settles between the two of you, nothing to listen to but the laughter of your friends, and the repetitive crash of the waves.

“You embarrassed me.”

It’s so quiet, Jake almost doesn’t hear it.

“What?”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone. You didn’t listen to me at work. And I fought so hard to get into that control room.” You pause, tugging your jacket tighter around you. It sounds stupid now. Certainly nothing to cry over, and yet here you are, furiously rubbing your eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Jake carefully pushes, unsure of how to make this better.

You make a pained sound, before nodding, a humorless smile on your face. Of course, he has no clue. You press a palm to your chest, looking straight through his eyes into his soul.

“I do the calculations for your exercises and training.” You pat your chest, voice cracking. “I do it.” He tilts his head at you, silently urging you on. “And when you don’t listen to me and are still so successful, everyone looks at me.”

“But I do that all time…” he trails off, hand hovering over your shoulder before pulling it away.

“When you train with Mav or the other pilots, that’s different. But just- certain exercises, where it’s mainly for the plane and just you. That’s on me.”

He takes a sip of his beer, nodding slowly.

“Why do they look at you?” You let out a small groan, brows pinched in annoyance.

“Because when what I calculate doesn’t happen, they think I should be doing better. Well, everyone but Hondo. And in case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of women here.” Jake’s stomach drops a little as you continue. Shit.

“If I had been a man, I don’t think they would’ve raised an eyebrow. Hell, no one says anything when Johnson fucks up on Rooster’s calculations. And it is on me. I should’ve considered the fact that you’re the perfect pilot who will always beat the odds, but you had never pulled this shit with me before.” He snorts at that, before finally letting his palm rest on your thigh.

In a comforting, apologetic manner.

Nothing else.

“And it certainly didn’t help that after the first time, I did everything in my power to do the opposite of what you said.” You laugh at that, a twinkle returning to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.

“No that didn’t help at all. One day my favorite pilot stopped listening to me, the next day I was a joke in the control room.” Your fingers curl into your jacket, and you keep still as Jake slides closer to you. He puts his beer down, gently caressing your jaw so you look at him.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish you had told me,” he whispers, watching as your eyes dart around, unused to this type of closeness from him.

“I’m sorry. I just was-“ you meet his eyes again, tears beginning to well. “I was embarrassed. I thought I was going to get demoted or transferred. Which didn’t happen. But I thought you didn’t need me and….” your voice fades off, embarrassment all over your face, as you try to squirm out of his grasp.

Jake drops his hand from your jaw, giving you space, but he squeezes the flesh of your thigh.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that. That’s the last thing I ever wanted, believe me.” He swipes at a stray tear with his free thumb, watching you blink in surprise. He steals himself, deciding the truth may be the best route.

“When I didn’t listen to you the first time, I was trying to impress you.” Your eyes widen and your upper body pulls away from him.

“What?” You sound like you can’t believe him, and your eyes narrow at him. “This isn’t funny Seresin.” There’s an edge in your voice again, one that he’s come to respect and hate over the past weeks.

“I’m not being funny,” he throws back, matching your glare. “I was trying to get you to notice me. Hell, nothing else was working.”

“Now what the fuck do you mean?” He looks at you like your stupid, and he almost feels guilty about it except for the fact that he had been flirting with you for so long, it’s a miracle he didn’t give up. And when he tells you that, you look at him mouth gaping.

“You were serious?” Jake almost rolls his fucking eyes, but he’s watching you relive months of memories, as your shoulders sag. “Oh my god. I thought you were making fun of me.”

His heart aches a little at the thought of you thinking he was being cruel to you when he wanted to do nothing more but give you the moon and every star in the sky.

“Sweetheart. Not only do I want you more than anything, I need you. Always.”

“Oh.” He feels you squeeze your thighs together, feels the heat radiating from you.

Oh. Oh indeed.

———

Jake’s careful with you. More careful than he wants to be right now, but everything’s so fragile right now, so tender, he doesn’t want to do anything that’ll scare you off.

His hands are gentle when he peels your shirt and bra off of you; he’s hesitant as he kisses down your neck. His thumb swipes over the, now swollen, lips that have haunted his dreams. They open ever so slightly, letting him push in. He groans into your neck, pushing his free hand into your shorts, sliding over your damp panties.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as he trails his fingers up and down your clothed slit. Your hips buck slightly at his ministrations, lips curling around his thumb as you suck gently at it.

Jake’s cock throbs painfully in his boxers as he watches your body react to him so beautifully, and he hasn’t even really done anything yet. You’re so wound up, so tense in multiple ways, and it’s his fault. He owes it to you to make you cum before he gets his dick wet. It’s what you deserve.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, caressing your face ever so slightly before trailing it down your breasts to tweak at your nipples.

“Such perfect tits,” he mutters, watching you bloom so beautifully under his attention. “Now let's get you out of these shorts.” You lift your hips as he situates himself between your thighs, pulling your shorts and underwear off in one go. And then he just fucking stares.

You squirm under his eyes, thighs beginning to close as anxiety plucks at your nerves. But he’s faster than you.

“Don’t you go hiding from me now, sweet thing.” He licks his lips before looking at you with blown-out eyes. “I think you doubt how long I’ve been dreaming about you and this perfect pussy. Let me enjoy this.” Your heartbeat picks up at his words, cunt involuntarily clenching around nothing. And he fucking watches it happen.

He smirks up at you in a way that makes you want to pull your hair out, presses a kiss to your thigh, and remains silent. As if not wanting to push your annoyance too far.

Jake settles on his stomach between your thighs, continuing to leave a trail of soft kisses up your thighs until he’s right at the apex, thumbs pulling your lower lips apart. He sighs appreciatively as your thighs tense.

“You’re just staring,” you complain, beginning to squirm again. He tsks at you, dragging his thumb up the cleft of your cunt.

“Hold your horses. I’m just getting started.” He swaps his thumb for his index, circling around the bud of your clit, delighting in the way you shiver, and he continues to trace your pussy as it leaks for him. “So pretty…” he murmurs mostly to himself.

Jake’s mainly teasing you at this point. A bit cruel considering how battered you both are emotionally, but he wants the first time you cum for him to be big. Memorable. Nothing less from Hangman. And for you. Of course.

And so he continues to tease, to drag his digits around your clit, your entrance, teasing the opening but not quite entering. He’s enchanted by the little noises you make, the gossamer strands he pulls from your body. They just look so…sweet.

With his eyes fixed on yours, he leans his mouth forward.

When his tongue swipes along you, your groan of relief goes straight to his dick. Fuck. He could listen to you all day.

Jake laps away at your cunt, chasing after your nectar and the sounds you make, relishing in the way your thighs tense around his head. He draws his tongue up, passing over your clit, and you buck into his mouth. Your fingers are in his hair in a flash, tugging as he repeats the motion. His eyes roll into the back of his head at the feeling, and he grinds his dick into the bed.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes sealed shut as you continue to hump against his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He expertly flicks at your clit, fingers digging almost painfully into your thighs. It feels so good, the pleasure radiating from your pussy making your brain foggy. Much like he can’t think of being anywhere but between your thighs, you can’t think of anything but Jake and his perfect mouth.

The two of you stay in this, wet, messy rhythm of tugging and licking and teasing until your wound so tight, muscles so tense you can’t help but beg. Jake, Jake, baby, please. I need to cum so bad.

He groans against you, vibrations making you shiver. One of your thighs is released, fingers gently trailing over the shallow nail marks left on your skin. You shiver again. Those same fingers find their way to your sopping, twitching cunt, and they trail in-between the lips of your pussy while his tongue remains focused on your clit.

You pant tugging hard at his hair again, you can feel it coming, feel the wave begin to crash- and then he pushes 2 fingers inside you, stretching, searching, begging you to cum around them. And obedient as ever, you do.

You jolt forward, fingers still tangled in his hair as your thighs snap shut around his head, cunt pulsing around his fingers and into his awaiting mouth. Your blood feels white hot, pleasure overwhelming as your hips continue to twitch and buck.

Jake continues to thrust his fingers into you, helping you ride your high as his own hips grind into the bed, reluctantly chasing the same.

When your body starts to relax, fingers no longer clinging to his hair almost painfully, he pulls his mouth and fingers away slowly, watching you carefully, gauging where you are.

You blink at him blearily, licking your lips before noticing how wet the lower half of his face looks. Wet because of you.

You let out a small moan. “Fuck, Jake.”

You look so fucked out, so lovesick- Something snaps in him and he doesn’t know why but he needs you to cum again as fast as possible.

And so he dives back in.

Fingers thrusting, tongue skillfully teasing. And you wail, hips rocking. To escape or seek more, you don’t know.

“Jake,” you cry out, pulling his hair, trying to get his tortuous mouth off of you. “Jake it’s too much!” But a single arm keeps you glued to his mouth. His eyes meet yours, blown out and desperate, and your fucking shaking.

And then his lips form a seal around your clit.

And he sucks.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips writhing against him as you’re taken under by another massive wave of pleasure. Your thighs squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, feet flailing against the bed. You repeat nothing but his name, as if it’s the only word you remember how to say, voice tense and whiny.

He moans into you, fingers pulling more of your cum into his mouth, and he grinds his boxer-covered cock into the mattress watching your body crest and crash until you begin to still.

Carefully, as if you might break, Jake pulls away again. The deep ache in his gut was finally satisfied at seeing you fucked out and exhausted.

But you prop yourself up to look at him, chewing your lip thoughtfully. “Dontcha wanna fuck me?” You whisper, something desperate and needy kicking to life inside of you again.

Jake inhales deeply, something twinging in his abs, and he grimaces.

And you flail in panic at his face, turning over to your hands and knees, cunt rising above him, as you turn back to look at him, begging again. Jake please, please I need you in me. I want you so bad.

And he groans, reaching a hand up to squeeze your ass.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing more I want than to fuck this cunt until you pass out. But I need to wait. I’m a little spent…”

You freeze at that, turning more to watch as he peels off his boxers, noticing the shine of the fabric. Holy shit.

Your eyes widen, and you collapse in front of the pillow in front of you.

“That’s so hot, Jake. Fuck.” Your hips wiggle as if to sell your point, and he chuckles.

“Bad timing though, huh?”

You peak out from the pillow, turning back again. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“I know.” And he smirks at you again, and it’s so annoying and cocky in the ways you hate but you’re too horny to care.

Especially when he starts massaging the globes of your ass. You settle down, eyelids drooping as his fingers dig into the flesh there. It feels so nice, relaxing while still keeping you turned on.

Jakes's fingers drift lower towards the entrance of your cunt, fingers gliding over the wetness that lingers around the entrance, pushing it back into you.

A shudder runs through your body as you clench tightly around his fingers. He coos at you, beginning to thrust them in and out, other hand still squeezing away. You gently rock back against him, mind glazed over from all the sensations and the fact that it was Jake Seresin who was doing it to you.

He pushes another finger in, smiling to himself at how you flutter around him, wanting more. Your darlin’ cunt was really a gift, wasn’t it?

He thrusts in and out, glued to the way you drip around his hand.

“Jake?” you sound so quiet, so soft. He could eat you live right now. You’re pouting now, lip jutting out at him.

“What is it darlin’?”

“Can you fuck me now?”

There’s a mean edge to your voice again, one that almost has him rolling his eyes. You’re a fucking piece of work sometimes. But he just pulls his fingers from you, stroking his cock with the wetness of you.

“You know what? I think I can take care of that for you.” You grin back at him, propping yourself up and shaking your ass again, and he slaps the jiggling flesh, making you laugh.

He fists himself mindlessly, guiding himself forward, closer to where he wants to be more than anything.

You inhale, fingers digging into the sheets at how he barely nudges toward, stretching you ever so slightly.

Jake lets out a hiss as he pushes forward. You’re fluttering and tensing like crazy around him, and his nails dig into your ass harshly.

“You gotta relax for me. Let me in.” You shiver and nod taking deep breaths as finally slides deep into your slick cunt.

“Oh shit Jake,” you say, already moving back against him, lost in the way he feels spectacular inside of you. Whatever daze you’re in is reciprocated, as he shallowly thrusts into you ever so slightly as you both adjust. You’re just so hot and wet already. It makes the small of his back tingle; lights something up deep inside of him.

Jake pulls out slowly, watching the way your walls cling to him, listening to the way you mewl. Fuck.

“Yea you like this dick?” He pumps back into you, watching the way you react, feeling you.

“You’re so- fuck- annoying,” you moan, glaring at him from over your shoulder, but your pussy squeezes him anyways.

“You were the one begging for it.” His palm slaps the fat of your ass, and you bounce back against him.

“And what’s wrong with that?” He glares at you, at the twinge of fight and mischief in your eyes.

“Nothing you little brat.”

And then he fucks you. Hard. Hips slamming into your ass, skin against skin. It’s loud, filling the air with wet, lewd noises that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. You can feel the ridges of his dick as he stretches your cunt.

He fucks you steady, hypnotized by every little thing about you. You just feel so fucking good, surrounding his cock as you drip into the sheets. Jake briefly wonders if you’d let him do this again, let him see you like this, tease you apart until you’re just as gooey and babbley.

He splays his hand out on your upper back, pushing you in the bed. Your breathing’s shaky, fingers curled into the sheets. There’s a deep ache inside you. You need him so much it hurts.

“Jake,” you manage to pant out, cunt squeezing him deliciously. He hisses before stroking the length of your back.

“I know. You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl,” he coos, hands landing on your waist. You nod in agreement, the praise going straight to your overworked cunt.

“Used to be so mouthy with me. Just needed my cock in ya, huh?” His question is punctuated by a particularly well-aimed thrust that makes your knees feel wobbly. It’s degrading, but the way he’s making you see stars right now has you whimpering in agreement. You need it. You need him.

“Jake,” you whine hoarsely. “I’m close.” He coos at you again, squeezing the flesh of your waist before sliding his hands to grip your ass, pulling you further against him, letting him take you more and more and more.

“Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?” You blink dumbly at his request, before slowly inching a hand in-between your sweaty thighs. Your fingers split into a V, surrounding where he fills you, and you shake your head, dropping your hand. It’s too much, too sensitive. “That’s okay,” he drawls, making your heart skip a beat. “I’ll take care of you.”

He drops forward, sweaty chest pressing against your back, and his hips continue to pummel into yours, cock pressing into your so sweetly. Jake snakes an arm beneath you, blunt finger rubbing quick little circles into your clit.

You cry out, squirming away as he relentlessly attacked your poor, tired nub. It’s overwhelming, face pressed into his sheets, the scent of sex filling the air, the way your cunt’s being shown more attention than it has in a while, and most importantly, Jake Seresin's lips reaching anywhere they can- your jaw, shoulder, back. He’s everywhere. And you can’t hold off the inevitable any longer.

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, pulsing around him as you shake under him. You gush around him, an extra burst of wetness almost forcing Jake out of your cunt. He grunts, doing his best to keep his rhythm consistent, keep it nice to help you ride it out.

“There you go there you go. Just like that.”

You throw an arm back, nails clawing into whatever part of him they land on.

“Cum in me Jake, please, please.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, but you don’t care.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” His hand drops from your throbbing clit, granting you relief as his pace falters. When he finishes, he’s loud right in your ear, spurts of cum filling your soaking pussy.

The stillness that follows is thick, hanging heavy in the air. You accept the weight of him inside and out, taking deep breaths as you try to calm down.

Jake stays inside of you, and he curls around you ever so slightly, desire and need to be close to you outweighing the discomfort of his softening cock.

It’s nice, being stuffed full like this. But eventually, you squirm, tapping his arm that rests near your head.

“Jake.”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your sweaty shoulder.

“I know, honey. I know.” Jake pulls out of you slowly, and you wince at the feeling. He hops off the bed, leaving you to curl up on his bed, trying to ignore the sticky cum that’s spread along you.

The next moments pass in a blur; you vaguely feel a damp cloth clean your pussy, a sweatshirt slid over your shoulders, and a glass of water gently pressed into your hands as you sit up.

You blink up at Jake, sipping your water as you take in his appearance. Hair messy, chest flushed, sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“How ya feeling?” he asks gently, sitting next to you.

“Like I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.” Jake smirks at you, a sick sense of pride filling him before he rubs your thigh.

“I’ll take care of ya then too.” And that makes you smile so sweetly at him, he feels the breath get knocked out of him. You stretch your arms above your head, twisting as you get comfortable in his bed.

“And I’m feeling stupid because we could’ve been doing this for months.” Jake laughs at that, before humming in agreement.

“We’ll we’ve got a lot of time to make up for… later of course. I need my beauty sleep.” You roll your eyes at that, and he kisses your shoulder, before curling around you, a smile on his face as he reluctantly drifts to sleep. After all, his dream was finally a reality.

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin smut #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman smut #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun smut

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froggibus · 7 months

Text

Corruption - Kol Mikaelson

Genre: smut/nsfw

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x f! reader (reader uses f! pronouns & has a pussy)

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: when you meet an original vampire at the Grill, the last thing you expect is to come home with him

CW: corruption, coercion, dubcon, blood drinking, seduction, use of good girl, praise, degradation, dry humping, nipple play, dom! kol, sub! reader, semi-innocent reader, riding, size diff if you squint (he's a big boy ong), creampie, unprotected sex (pls be smart lol)

omg day one of kinktober, I’m so excited!! this is a bit of a curveball given I’ve never wrote about TVD on here but me and my bf were watching it and I’ve had absolute Kol brain rot lol.

also ow grand finals today!! ante up 💚

Kinktober Masterlist

The usual hustle and bustle of the Grill fills your ears as soon as you push past the door. You have your apron thrown over your shoulder, attempting to tie up your hair and run to the back at the same time.

You manage to make your way through the maze of tables without bumping into anyone, thankfully. You wrap the straps of your apron around your waist and clock in just as the clock strikes 4:30.

“Close one.” Matt Donovan nudges your shoulder teasingly.

You shrug him off, slinging a cloth over your shoulder. “Hey, some of us actually need to study.”

The blond rolls his eyes and heads to the sink. You clip a pen onto your waist and drop a pad of paper into your pocket, smoothing over your hair before heading onto the floor. The Mystic Grill opens at noon, but since you and Matt are in school, more often than not you find yourselves working later in the afternoon.

And with working late comes the drunken idiots and vampires.

You’re on your way to clean tables when a rowdy group of men burst through the doors. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes and wait for them to settle before coming over. But something about this group just seems…different. Your mind practically screams vampire.

Aside from the fact that they’re so hot you would have noticed them before, their accents make it clear that they’re not from around here. A mix of a classic English accent with a hint of something else behind it, a hint of something more ancient. Another red flag.

You come to their table almost as soon as they’re settled, not wanting to keep them waiting too long. “Hi, welcome to The Grill. My name is y/n and I’ll be serving you today. Anything I can get you guys started with?”

The one in the suit speaks first. “A gin and tonic, please.”

You nod and scribble it down on your notepad, turning to the blond one in the center. “And for you?”

“Martini, love.”

On any other day, the pet name would make you roll your eyes, but you find yourself fighting the urge. There’s something electric in the air, something dangerous, and you don’t want to aggravate them.

The younger one on the end smirks at you, dark eyes raking over your figure. He’s by far the tallest and broadest of the group, muscled shoulders hidden underneath his brown jacket. You shiver beneath his gaze.

“A negroni, darling.” He says casually, but there’s a hint of patronizing beneath.

Unlike the blond man, the name doesn’t make you roll your eyes. There’s no bitter taste in your mouth—just the chill of something new.

“Right away.”

You overhear them laughing as you practically sprint to the back, your heart racing in your chest. You can feel eyes on you but you don’t dare turn around. By the time you’re out of sight, their laughter has faded to hushed whispers around the table.

Kol can’t help but glance at the swinging door that leads to the kitchen, waiting for his cute little waitress to emerge. The innocent air around you is intoxicating in itself, and he finds himself wondering how your blood would taste, and how pretty and wet you would look opened up in front of him.

He pushes the thoughts away once he feels his pants tightening.

You come back a few minutes later, their drinks piled on the tray in your hand. You place them on the table one at a time, starting with the man in the suit. He thanks you, and it’s clear he has the best manners of the three.

When you get to the last man, you have to lean in slightly to place the drink in front of him. As you get close, you can smell his cologne, like a combination of sandalwood and iron. The scent draws you in, and you have to force yourself away from him.

Your body heats up and your heart pounds, voice shaking as you ask: “C-can I get you guys anything else?”

“No, love, I think we’re—”

He interrupts the blond one with a smirk, “hang on a minute, Niklaus. Maybe there’s something else I want from our pretty waitress.”

You swallow hard at the compliment. You don’t trust yourself to properly form words right now, so you simply nod at him and wait for him to speak.

“Hmm,” Kol picks up the menu and pretends to examine it.

He knows he’s being cruel, but he can’t help it. He loves the sound of your racing heart, of the blood rushing through your veins. God, he’s so tempted to compel you to come and sit on his knee and offer him a drink. But compulsion is just too easy, and where’s the fun in that?

He looks up at you through his lashes. “What would you recommend, love?”

“Um,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “I-I’m not too sure, what are you in the mood f-for?”

You curse yourself for stuttering so much, but you’ve never felt like this before. It’s like all your senses are in overdrive, your body turning into an inferno. Just him looking at you is enough to turn you into a weak kneed mess.

Dark eyes look you up and down, that fucking smirk coming through again. “Something…sweet.”

“I-I can go get you the dessert menu.”

You don’t even wait for an answer before you’re practically running to the kitchen and gulping down half of your water bottle. You can hear them laughing once more, laughing at you, probably.

“You’re so cruel, brother,” Elijah scolds him.

Kol just shrugs and sips his martini.

“You can’t exactly blame him, can you? She smells delectable.”

He freezes up at that. He’d almost forgotten for a second that his brothers could smell you too, and that if it came down to it, he would be last in line for a taste. No, he shakes his head. That simply won’t do. You’re his.

“Ah, don’t worry little brother,” Klaus nudges his shoulder. “She’s all yours.”

Their conversation is interrupted when you come back, tail between your legs, with the dessert menu. You practically toss it on the table in front of them, refusing to make eye contact.

Kol resists the urge to laugh at your bashfulness. Your shy demeanor only makes him want you more, the alcohol just barely sating his need to lay you across the bar and fuck you then and there.

“On second thought,” Kol says after examining the menu, “I think I’ll wait til later.”

You nod and take the menu from him, your hand brushing his larger one. The contact sends sparks through your nerves, goosebumps forming on your arm. You make a blissful second of eye contact with him before scurrying off.

—

Hours pass, and your shift is coming to an end. You managed to avoid that group for the rest of the night—Matt insisting on taking your shift so you don’t have to deal with what he calls the “Original” vampires.

Of course, just as you’ve walked out of the back with your hair loose and your apron stuffed away in your bag, a familiar voice calls to you.

“Leaving so soon darling?”

You stop dead in your tracks. You’ve always ignored customers as soon as you got off the clock, only focused on getting out of the door and back to your house. But that electric feeling in the pit of your stomach is so strong that it compels you to turn around and face him.

He’s so much taller than you, so much broader than you. He’s standing so close that you can smell him and that you have to look up to meet his eyes.

“Well, my shift’s over and I-I should really go study, so…”

“What a shame,” he offers you a dazzling smile, eyes practically ignited while looking at you. “I was hoping I could entice you into a drink.”

“A drink?” You swallow hard, “with you?”

“Of course, unless there’s someone else?”

Something about the darkness that falls over his face when he says that tells you to tread lightly. That dangerous electricity is back, and it's holding you in place. You know you should go home, you should study and go to sleep and never speak to him again. But you can’t.

“No! There’s, uh, there’s nobody else.”

He offers you his hand. “So, a drink then? My place?”

You reach hesitantly to grab it, knowing those sparks are going to consume your body like kindle the minute you do. The palm of your hand touches his and you know there’s no going back.

Twenty minutes later and you’re sitting on his couch, sipping a vodka cranberry. Kol sits next to you, just close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of you. Anytime he shifts or speaks, that sandalwood scent floods your nostrils and stirs something in the pit of your stomach.

He gently sets a hand on your thigh, not missing how your blood pressure spikes. He inhales that sweet scent of your blood, now mixed with something else. Something that smells suspiciously like arousal.

“So, love,” he leans in closer, “how about a taste, hm?”

“A-a taste?” You can’t tell if he means a taste of your blood, or a taste of something else.

“Just a little, I promise it will be quick. It might even,” he lowers his voice, moving his lips closer to your soft neck, “feel good.”

His words have you clenching your legs, your pussy starting to ache from need. You’re sure he can smell it, with his super sense and all. His hot breath on the side of your neck already feels so good, you’re so tempted to let him drink from you.

“O-okay.”

Kol almost moans at that alone. He lets his fangs pierce through his gums, dragging the sharp teeth across the most sensitive part of your neck. One of his big hands wraps around the base of your throat, holding you still.

The graze of his teeth against your skin has you softly whimpering, biting your lip to not make too much noise. Just the thought of him sinking his fangs into your skin and sucking the blood straight from your vein has you gushing, panties beyond ruined.

There’s a slight burn and then a sharp pain as his fangs sink into you. You whine and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stay still. You can feel the vibrations of him groaning at the taste, feel his fingers tapping against your throat. It’s almost overwhelming, the pain and pleasure combined.

“You’re being so good,” he mumbles into your skin, “such a good girl for me.”

You moan from his words. You are being a good girl, and god, it feels so good. He pulls away, keeping his hand on your neck. You shiver from the cold air on your warm skin, missing his touch.

He rubs his hand up and down your thigh. “That was very good, darling.” He gently squeezes your inner thigh, “do you want to keep being good for me?”

The offer is enticing, and despite having class tomorrow, you find yourself wanting to stay. Wanting to please him in any way he asks.

“I-I have class tomorrow, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” You start to get off the couch, but just as you make it to your feet, he’s pressing himself against your back.

His hand squeezes the base of your throat, the other one rubbing your pussy through your jeans. “But didn’t it feel so good? I know you want more, love, I can smell it.”

You swallow, biting your lip to keep from moaning. His hands on you feel so good in themselves, and you wonder how other parts of him would feel.

“Just a few more minutes, hm? Then you can go home, snug as a bug.”

“I-I’m not sure…”

“But doesn’t it feel so good, being my good girl?” He digs his hand into your clit as if to prove his point. He knows he’s won you over when he feels you start to soak through your pants.

You sigh weakly, “okay, just a few more minutes.”

He guides you back to the couch, leaning over top of you. Your blood outlines his lips, his breath tasting like copper and liquor. He leans in, smashing his lips against yours.

One of his hands moves down to dig into your waist, fingers gripping you so hard you’ll bruise. He forces his tongue into your mouth, running it across the backside of your teeth.

You melt into his touch, letting him do whatever he wants.

His other hand snakes under your shirt, going to massage your chest. His cold fingers meet your overheating skin, pinching your nipple between them. You whine into his mouth, only granting him easier access to you.

“You’re being such a good girl,” he moves his lips down your neck, “such a good slut for me.”

“‘m not a slut,” you whine, your back arching into him against your will.

He pushes his knee between your legs, grinding it into you. The contact is all too much, and you’re hardly aware of the noises you’re making. Hardly aware of your own actions.

“Not a slut,” he says breathlessly. “But you’re fucking yourself against my leg.”

“I-I’m…” you trail off as you realize he hasn’t been moving his leg this whole time—you’ve just been grinding against him.

There’s a wet spot forming on his jeans from where you were rubbing yourself, and hot shame floods your body.

“I-I think it’s been more than a few minutes,” you go to stand but he tugs you into his lap.

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself? Enjoying being my little slut?”

You only get wetter with his words, and sitting on his lap like this, you can feel the imprint of his hard cock through his jeans. You can’t help but rock against him, desperate for friction, desperate for anything. Maybe being his slut isn’t such a bad thing…

He tugs your shirt over your head while you move, giving himself easier access to your chest. He sucks dark marks into your neck, fingers playing with your nipples while you grind your pussy into his bulge.

“Such a good little girl.” He groans, gripping your hips so he can grind against you.

You whine, trying to grind harder against him. You need more friction, you need more pressure.

“Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I-I—” you’re cut off by him pinching your nipples hard.

“Use your words.” He teases, biting into your neck.

You try to tell him you need more, but your words are failing you. All you can do is close your eyes and bite your lip and rock back and forth on his lap.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Fuck you hard and cum inside you, hm? Is that what my slut wants?”

You nod furiously, “yes, please.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I-I want you to fuck me, please fuck me, Kol. I-I need you so bad.”

Kol throws you over his shoulder faster than you can register, carrying you up to his bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, tugging his shirt off before hovering over you.

He strokes your jaw with his thick fingers, “if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna prove how badly you want it.”

“P-prove it?”

He flips the two of you over so that he’s laying under you, his bulge grinding perfectly against your throbbing core. He bounces you up and down slightly, his hands gripping your hips.

“Prove how badly you want it, fuck yourself on my cock and then if you’re a good girl, I’ll give you what you want.”

You look down at his hard cock straining through his jeans. You’ve had sex before, sure, but you’ve never been on top. You’re not even quite sure how to ride.

You straddle his waist, tugging down your pants and panties. Your panties are absolutely soaked, ruined with your own slick. You gasp once the cold air hits your aching pussy.

Kol helps you to take off his own pants, his thick cock hitting his stomach. The pink tip is practically dripping with precum, coating his hard base in his own juices.

You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight. He’s so big, and you can practically taste the precum from here.

“What are you waiting for? Get on with it then.”

You slowly stroke the shaft, your hand barely wrapping around his girth. “I just,” you sigh, avoiding eye contact, “I’ve never really—”

“Been on top?”

“Yeah,” you squeeze his cock.

“Lucky me,” he smirks and grabs your hips, “don’t worry, love. I’ll guide you.”

You climb on top of him, lining up his cock with your dripping entrance. Just the feeling of his length hovering below you. You lean forward and slowly drive your hips back, Kol holding up your hips so you can push down onto him.

You sink onto his cock. It stretches you out as you push farther down on him, his cock perfectly filling you up. You whine, pressing yourself against his chest and driving your hips all the way down. Kol groans, digging his fingertips into your sides.

“Such a good whore,” he mumbles, letting you do all the work.

You desperately fuck yourself up and down his length, trying to get him all the way. He’s so big inside of you, all you want is to stuff yourself full of him. Your pussy gushes with every thrust, your juices leaking out and coating his groin.

“I-I need more,” you whine, pressing your face into his shoulder.

“Hm? You need more?”

“I need to cum, I’m so close, please…”

Kol grips your hips and flips over so that he’s laying on top of you. He drives his hips forwards, slamming his cock all the way inside of you. He grabs your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle.

He pistons into you, balls smacking against your ass with every thrust. “God, you’re so fucking tight. My little whore, spreading herself open for me.”

“I—Kol—”

He leans in to kiss on your neck, his teeth grazing where he’d bit you earlier. His tongue reaches out to lap up the dried blood, moans filling your ears.

“Kol, I-I’m so close!”

“Be a good girl and cum around my cock, huh darling?”

The pet name has those shivers traveling up your spine again, the pleasure reaching a point where it’s overwhelming. You dig your nails into his back, desperately whining for him to fuck you harder.

One more thrust and you’re coming undone, that knot in your stomach exploding. Your pussy gushes around him, that ache that’s been plaguing you all day finally fading.

Kol props himself up, shoulders straining to keep himself steady as he drives his cock inside you. Every thrust is a challenge, as if he’s trying to completely lose himself in your pussy. He’s gasping and grunting, and as soon as you feel his cock twitching, you know he’s close.

A few more sloppy thrusts and suddenly he’s cumming inside of you, hot streaks filling your pussy. He’s left gasping, lazily pumping inside of you. He flips you over so that you’re laying on his chest.

“Did that feel good, darling?” He strokes your hair, keeping you close to him.

“Mm, so good,” you mumble, eyes starting to close.

“You did so good for me, love. I can’t wait to see what that pretty little mouth can do, too.”

You feel yourself heating up at his words, but for now, all you can focus on is his hot cum running out of your pussy and coating your thighs. Kol rubs your back, letting you rest.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kol mikealson x reader #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x you #tvd #tvd x reader #tvd x You #the originals #the originals x reader #the originals x you #the mikaelsons

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months

Text

DAY NINE: Hate Sex w/ Ex!Fratboy!Bucky Barnes (ft. sorority sister!reader

a/n: I cannot begin to tell yoy how fucking aware I am that this is late and I'm almost falling behind but ohmygoodness I've been literally exhausted for the past two days. I'm lowkey pissed about it because I was super excited to write for this day and actually writing for it felt like I was dragging my feet behind me.

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TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl

Fuck James Buchanan Barnes.

He’s a piece of shit, an asshole, a womanizer, a player, a liar and a dirty fucking cheat, but goddamn it, why do you always find yourself here?

You hated him – no – you do hate him!

Even people that hate their exes like the fact that they catch their eye, that they can’t find it within themselves to look away from them, that in some way, some capacity, they will always want them, that they will always be theirs regardless of whoever they get with in the future.

Bucky knew you’d come to the party at his frat, and you knew that you would go with every intention of fucking with him. To everyone else, you were just bitter exes - that needed to fuck out whatever was going on between the two of you - so when you showed up in a dress that fell just below your ass, your friends figured you were just trying to get laid; but no one knew that this was his favorite color on you, let alone his favorite dress.

You just so happened to pick it out, that’s all! Couldn’t a girl want to pamper herself nowadays?

You fake laughed at whatever the dude that had fallen right into your trap said, a manicured hand lifting up to slap him on his arm gently, making extra sure to graze the naked skin of his arm that was exposed by his muscle tee with your acrylics. You fluttered your eyelashes at him innocently, a faux sweet smile on your face.

Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted Bucky to take you home, or to his room, or to wherever the fuck he wanted too – but you’d never admit that to yourself. You couldn’t. He couldn’t win this game of cat and mouse, not without a fight, and you just so happened to love playing dirty.

You could feel Bucky’s stare burning into your back. Your bodycon dress was completely strapless, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as your breasts threatened to spill out over the top. You weren’t a sorority slut by any means, one of your sister’s had that covered, but still, you were going to go home with somebody tonight.

Even if he was an idiot.

“That’s so funny, Aaron.” Aaron laughed nervously, cheeks blooming a deep red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh- actually Eric.” Right. “Sorry.” You giggled, raising the neck of your beer as if it was some sort of explanation for the fact that you don’t really give a shit about what his name is and more about what’s in his pants.

Before you could speak, your eyes raised up to meet Bucky’s, who was standing across the pull, two ladies vying for his attention as he puffed on what looked like a blunt. It looked like he was in the same boat that you were; that he didn’t care about what they were saying, only you.

Biting your lip, you turned your gaze back to Aaron – Eric.

You knew you’d have to up the ante in order to get him to move, because right now you know he thinks that you’re all bark no bite. You’ll show him.

“You know…” You made a finger walking motion up his arm, the tips of your nails now slightly digging into his skin. “How about we get out of here?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him. “It’s too crowded… and loud.” Your hand finally rested on his upper bicep, giving it a soft squeeze. The poor man’s jaw was slightly dropped, as if he was a fish out of water.

“Yeah, yeah, I-” He attempted to say, but when you raised your gaze again, Bucky was gone, and you had forced yourself to bite back a wolfish smile because you knew he was on the move somewhere.

“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bucky’s voice sounded as he approached the both of you from behind. Eric looked as if he had seen a ghost, but the poor boy had no idea that he was just a pawn in your game.

“Oh- uh- nothin’ man, just talking.” You raised a brow at Eric’s shaky excuse. Internally, you rolled your eyes. What a pussy.

“Really?” Bucky asked in amusement, not even bothering to hide the face splitting smirk that contorted his face. “Yep.” You responded, popping the ‘p’ as you took the blunt from him. You wrapped your mouth around it, your gaze almost challenging him as you sucked, pulling the smoke into your lungs. It burned but it was worth it to see the tick in his jaw and the slight twitch in his eye at the sight of your pursed lips.

“I think that I um- I’m just gonna go.” Eric squeaked awkwardly. All lustful intention slipped away from him as he grasped his hand and shook it. From the poor man’s wince you can tell that Bucky put a little bit too much force in his shake.

When the random guy slipped away you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Real smooth.” You commented. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I’m talking about you trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of him.” The way you said it was as if it was the most casual thing on earth. “I almost forgot how possessive you get when you know someone else wants me.” You tilted your chin up to finally face him, and you caught yourself from almost stumbling over your words at the primal look on his face.

You did it. You won this game fair - enough - and square.

“Too bad my pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, isn’t it, James?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. But you weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on.

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m right, even though anger does look good on you.”

You went to step away, but he was quick to snatch your wrist, “Were not done talkin’.” You made a noncommittal attempt to tug yourself free. “I am.”

The tension between the two of you sizzled like oil on a pan, beckoning, calling for someone to do something, anything, to appease the burning desire that was coiling in Bucky and yours’ guts.

“If you’re not done then I guess we should find somewhere quiet to talk then.”

He didn’t give you the chance to offer a rebuttal because he was already dragging you away from the prying eyes of party goers, his frat brothers and your sorority sisters. You already had an idea of where he was taking you, pushing the both of you through the sea of people that flooded the house, most of them drunk or high or a hammered off of a little bit of everything that was rotating throughout the home.

When he’d found his room, he was grateful that no one had decided to fuck in it, because that was what he was supposed to be doing.

He let your body be the thing that slammed the door shut with a loud bang!

He kissed you harshly, his left hand grasped your chin while the other hiked a full leg over his hip, grinding his erection onto your needy core.

“Fuck!” You gasped, your back arching off the wood as you broke the kiss. The friction of his jeans against your pulsing clit sent you staggering for balance, your inhibitions clouding your mind when you allowed your self-control to completely flee from within you.

“Bucky baby.” You whined. The man practically preened at the sound of his old nickname, his humping turning harder and calculated. He clearly had an end goal in mind.

“What were you sayin’ about this pussy not bein’ mine no more?” He quipped. “I still mean it.” You gasped. He growled, but nonetheless, that didn’t deter him from shoving his face in the corner of your neck and biting down on the skin. Hard.

You yelped at the pain, but it shot down straight to your stimulated core. The bite only drew you closer to your embarrassingly fast approaching orgasm. It had been so long since you’d been touched by him, and God, you missed his hands, his voice, his touch, his smell, his cock.

“‘M close, Buck, ‘m so close.” You murmured, waving your fingers through his brunette hair and tugging on the strands. You felt a burning bitterness well-up in your gut when the tips of your fingers brushed against the hard plastic of the silver crown on top of his head. You sneakily took it off before throwing it somewhere in his room.

“No need to be jealous, honey.” He teased with a smirk on his face. “Shut— shut up!” Your rebuttal only came out as a whine. You could feel the cloth of your laced thong stick to your wet labia with every grind on his jeans – which also now sported a dark spot on his pants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore as you came. “There you go. That’s it, good girl.” Small whimpers slipped out of you as he worked you into overstimulation.

“God,” He groaned. “I’ve gotta fuck you.”

Guiding his face up to yours, you brushed your lips together, holding your intense eye contact with one another. “Then fuck me, Buck. I think you have a point to prove.” He leaned forward just a bit to nip at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth.

“Fuckin’ naughty.” Bucky grunted, forcing your leg down from his hip for a moment to snatch your panties down your legs. Your hands shot out to his belt buckle, slipping the leather out of it and unbuttoning his jeans. It was your turn to shove his pants down and grab his hard on, his hot cock pulsing in your hand.

The air in the back of his throat caught at the feeling of your stroking, “God– turn around.” You did as he said and felt his large, calloused hands pushing up your dress.

“Gonna make sure everyone at this fuckin’ party knows you’re mine.” He says lowly, pulling down his underwear to his mid-thigh and prodding his tip at your entrance. “Even if you fuckin’ hate me.” With that, he entered you, splitting you in half on his cock.

You cried out at the feeling, false nails scratching at the surface of his door in an attempt to keep yourself steady. “Feels so good, Buck. So, so, good.” You mewled, your hips pushing out on their own accord to try and take your own pleasure. “Always so fuckin’ greedy.” He chided. His hands grabbed at the fat of your ass, pulling out of you only to slam back in, sending you up the wall.

Your bodies moved in a familiar symphony that had been sung numerous times before, as they hadn’t forgotten one another, they were just simply waiting for the both of you to press play.

His dick repeatedly prodded at your g-spot, the friction sending you into overdrive as you moaned, and cried and begged. “God, I think ‘m gonna cum, Buck!” You exclaimed, walls repeatedly clenching down on him. “That’s right, doll. ‘Fuckin squeeze me.” He bellowed, his own thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his end.

Your noises raised in pitch before your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, instead opting to cross your arms and rest your head on your forearms.

“Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusting growing sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Do it, fuck, I-” Your words died out, your body wracking with shivers as your second orgasm of the night overtook you.

It wasn’t long before you felt his seed warm your insides, painting your womb white as your eyesight went white, and your pussy sucked him up for all he’s worth.

Your chests heaved.

“I still hate you.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He said through a smile.

#♡ ― nsfmeau !#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day nine #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #signed meau #x chubby reader #chubby reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes kinktober #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes smut #fanfiction #smut

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homies-slut · 18 days

Text

Burns Deep

Summary: Your jealousy burns deep, but Homelander’s burns deeper than you ever imagined.

Warnings: language, 18+ content, jealousy

Extra: GIF is not mine

It was another day at Vought tower, kissing the public’s ass once again. Edgar just announced the newest member of the Seven, Stormfront, and you couldn’t help the bitterness you felt the moment you saw her. The I don’t give a fuck attitude was enough for you to roll your eyes every time something came out of her mouth.

You were already 20 minutes late for your daily meeting why not make it 30 to piss John off even more. You were closest to him out of the Seven and once she joined, he completely took your attention for granted and kept it on her just because she was different and stronger than most of us.

Strutting your way towards the tall steel doors in your new supe outfit, the baby blue and white leather hugging your curves uncomfortably yet enough to make you feel more confident than you ever have.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Y/N.” Homelander smiles, but you knew it wasn’t genuine. He was steaming from the ears. Where were you? Who were you with that was more important than being here?

“Sorry, outfit malfunction.” You shrug, taking the seat next to Starlight. His eyes never stray from you until you sit down, throwing him the sweetest smile you could muster with innocent eyes. You knew he wouldn’t stay mad long. It was almost impossible for him to go an hour knowing you were mad at him.

“As I was saying,” he continues through gritted teeth, “Edgar does not make the rules anymore. We are the ones who are stronger than any of them weak feeble humans out there,” he rants. “We have the power guys! I don’t think they really understand what we’re capable of, and now with Stormfront being here we can really show them what we stand for.”

“How sweet of you.” She smiles. “I just don’t understand how anyone could just let themselves be controlled by some company, for what?” She explains. “Money! I mean, come on you guys, we are the company.”

“And that is why you are the best and why we need you,” Homelander says almost sincerely with puppy dog eyes, you wanted to squeeze her vocal cords until she couldn’t talk anymore.

“Aright, is that it?” You exclaim, getting up and walking towards the door. “I have a date tonight that’s way more important than this bullshit.” You add just to piss him off even more.

That wasn’t a lie. You did have a date with one of the workers at Vought from wardrobe. You realized just how much you were missing out on cause you were too busy wrapped around Homelander’s finger.

“Walk out that door and you’re out,” Homelander growls, slamming his hand down on the table. You halt, mouth parting in astonishment when you turn around to face him. Red eyes, blazing with only what you could call anger, stare back at you.

“You can’t be serious?” You snap angrily, your eyes already turning a bright shade of blue at the rage and power coursing through your blood.

“I’m dead serious. Sit your ass down now, we’re gonna have a little chat,” he hisses. “Everyone else, out.” They give you a look of pity, hesitant to leave you alone with the raging supe.

“Now!”

They scatter like ants until it was just you and John.

“You,” he laughs bitterly, pointing a finger in your direction, “really like to push my buttons, don’t you, Y/N?”

You pretend to think. “Hmm, I really don’t know what you mean, John. As far as I’m concerned this meeting was over before I even got here. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

He stalks towards you almost like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. “Who is he?” He spits, towering over you. You stand your ground cause he doesn’t scare you at all. Sure, you know what he’s capable of, but would he really go as far as hurting you? His best friend. The one he was experimented on with since they were toddlers.

“You don’t know him. He sure is handsome though,” you coo, bringing a hand up to graze his jaw. You watch his eye twitch and jaw clench under your fingers. “I was quite lonely without you these least few days, you know, since you’ve been with Stormfront so much. I just decided to find someone to keep me company.”

He grabs your wrist in one hand and your throat in the other, shocking you, and in one swift motion pins you against the wall. His face hovers close to yours just enough to where you can smell the mint gum on his breath.

You let out a harsh breath at the impact and laugh as much as you can with the little oxygen you were working with.

“Why have you been so bad today, hmm? You like being a bad girl and embarrassing me in front of everyone. Just because I haven’t given you enough attention.” He was seething, fingers tightening around your neck. Homelander was seeing red. The thought of you going on date with some else was enough to trigger him. He doesn’t want to think about what would happen after. The way you’d let him touch you in places he was only meant to touch.

He yanks you towards him, bringing his lips to yours in a rough burning kiss. His mouth was hot against yours, fingers lessening their grip just a little so you could breathe easier. He releases the harsh grip on your wrist, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands travel to your thighs, lifting you up while you wrap your legs around him, threading your finger through his blond locks.

“You’re fucking mine, Y/N.” He made a low guttural sound in the back of his throat. “I’ll kill him before he touches you.” You release a loud moan at the thought of him killing someone over you. His lips were everywhere skin was showing. Your back hit the table before you were yanked back towards him. He grips your face harshly. “Who do you belong to?” His other hand found the warmth of your pussy under the leather fabric, teasing your clit in harsh circular motions.

“You,” you cry out, bucking your hips into his hand as tears welled in your eyes. “I’ve always belonged to you, John!” You gasp when he rips a hole in the crotch of your suit. He unbuckles his pants, yanking them down and running the red tip of his swollen cock against your moist folds. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and he yanks your head up firmly. “Eyes on me, young lady,” he growls with a hunger present.

He inches the head of his cock inside you, letting out a small whimper. “Fuck.”

“Please, please, please,” you beg. You were pathetic, cock drunk to say the least. “John, please,” you whine.

He thrusts deep inside you without warning, and you grip his shoulders tightly, burying your nails in the fabric of his suit. “Goddamn, this pussy,” he grunts, pulling out and thrusting in you again until he was driving his cock in and out of you in a chaotic manner, like he couldn’t get enough.

“This is your punishment for being a bitch today, understand?” He barks, plunging your pussy while it makes squelching noises from how wet you were.

“Yes, yes,” you moan loudly, feeling the burning sensation building in the pit of your walls. You clench around his cock, and he jerks you in for another kiss, sliding his tongue in your mouth. He growls against your mouth, releasing his seed in your pussy as you coat yourself with his cock that was still fucking you.

“I dare you to act up again,” he warns, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll kill every single fucking one of them who try to take you from me.”

#the boys #Homelander #Homelander x reader #Homelander smut #the boys prime #john gillman #antony starr #Homelander imagines #the boys imagines

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hard-core-super-star · 8 months

Note

A request for hailee x reader. Reader is Hailees' main backup dancer. There are edits of the two over the years, fans speculate that the two are together due to the tension between them in said edits and videos.

one step forward, three steps back [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: when hailee tries to convince you to ride the publicity wave and appear in her new music video, you’re forced to accept the truth of your feelings for her.

warnings: the weirdest mix of angst and fluff you've ever seen; stubborn idiots arguing instead of being honest; quite possibly the most dialogue i've ever written for one fic; one mention of the JA stunt because i am still bitter about it

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: rubix stop mentioning sunkissing in everything challenge. don't mind me, just trying to manifest hailee's music back to life...pun absolutely intended. [ever write a song so gay you have to go into hiding as soon as it comes out? i'm sure taylor swift knows the feeling all too well] anywho, i got a little carried away with this one and it shows. hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

If someone had told you your entire life would be flipped on its head just from a few short video edits and a trending hashtag you would have called them mad. Unfortunately, Emily Dickinson had a point when she said,“Much madness is divinest sense.”

The ‘madness’ in this case was the sheer amount of people who had started spreading the before-mentioned videos around and the ‘sense’ being your incredibly obvious feelings for the person who was essentially your boss. It’s a bit of an oversimplification, and the biggest reason you have not to tell Hailee the truth, but the point still stands.

You still have no idea how things got blown so out of proportion since the speculation around you two has been swirling around since day one. Clearly, not having any new music projects to focus on has driven her fans into madness.

It would be fine…if you and Hailee were still on speaking terms.

Are you being dramatic? Maybe a little but your friendship or relationship or whatever the hell it was that you two had going on at some point isn’t what it used to be. The blame isn’t entirely on her but your own bitterness about the situation tends to cloud your judgment sometimes…okay, most of the time.

Right now is a perfect example of it.

You’ve been staring at your phone for what feels like hours, mentally debating if you should give in and reply to Hailee’s text. You really, really, don’t want to but what other choice do you have? It’s not like you can ignore her forever, you’ve already promised her you’ll join her on her next tour, whenever it finally happens.

You decide to suck it up and agree to meet her for coffee. The last thing you need is to be seen hanging out with her right now but you’re sure it’s all part of the plan. A plan that probably didn’t come from the singer herself, but rather from the group of people who act like they want the best for her but are really just trying to sell her image like it’s a product.

Because who cares about morals and dignity as long as you get streams on your music, right?

You shove your bitter thoughts out of your mind for now and focus on getting ready to see Hailee again.

The hours simultaneously feel like seconds and eternity and before you know it, you’re sitting at a semi-secluded table in a random coffee shop with your knee bouncing up and down like there are ants crawling up your pants. No amount of breathing exercises or grounding techniques can stop your heart from hammering in your chest from the mere thought of the brunette.

You’re not sure what she wants from you, you just have a bad feeling about it. Although maybe that’s your broken heart talking, you can’t be sure.

You notice her the second she walks in and you do an awful job at pretending you’re looking at something on your phone instead of her. You act like you can’t see the smile on her face from this distance just like she acts like she can’t see you. Both of you look ridiculous but neither of you mind.

She finally joins you after another eternity of waiting and despite all the questions that are swirling around in your brain, you force yourself to wait for her to go first.

“I need your help with something.”

After months of not talking to each other, that’s what she leads with. You would complain about her lack of greeting but you’re grateful she’s getting right to the point so you can wrap this up and go back to avoiding your feelings. “That’s a bold start.”

She rolls her eyes, more out of habit than anything else. “It’s been five seconds, are we going to fight already?”

“I guess that depends on what you want me to do,” you reply.

“I want you in the SunKissing music video. We finally got the green light for it and it’s the perfect way to take advantage of all the buzz around the two of us.”

You can’t help but wonder if she’s joking. The ‘buzz’ around you two is just people speculating and piecing together the history Hailee has spent so long ignoring and rewriting. History that’s filled with arguments. bitter kisses, unspoken confessions and stolen glances.

You force the memories out of your mind. Along with the weird ache you feel every time you focus on Hailee’s eyes.

“Me dancing in the background of your music video isn’t going to be a trending topic, Hailee.”

She shrugs. “It will be if we kiss.”

“You’re joking,” you say, unable to hide the way her words take you by surprise.

“I’m serious.”

“You’re choosing now to come out? You think this will make everyone forget about your little stunt with the QB?”

Your mention of the New York stunt hits her hard and if you’re being honest, that’s exactly why you brought it up. You’re not interested in turning your private life into Hailee’s next big scandal. Even if it means pissing her off until she changes her mind.

The way she clenches her jaw is all you need to know you’re not going to like her next words. “It’s not a coming out. It’s an acting project.”

“You’re never going to change are you?” You ask, not sure whether to be impressed or disappointed by her idea.

“Come on, y/n.” She leans forward and places her hand on top of yours. You half-expect a camera flash to accompany the action but you seem to be safe for now. “You know you’re the only person I trust with this.”

Her words would be cute if you hadn’t fallen for them already. Multiple times. It’s always been the same way with her. She gives you a few months of her attention, makes you believe your unspoken affections aren’t one-sided, just to rip it away from you the second you think you’ve made progress.

“You’re the last person in this room who should be talking about trust.”

“Oh my God!” She leans back, her hand slipping away from you and taking any hope of avoiding an argument with it. “When are you going to let that go?”

You’re not even sure what she thinks you’re upset about this time. The list is so long, she could be referencing anything and be completely right. And yet somehow, you’re the one who’s in the wrong for still being upset.

“When you apologize for being a piece of shit,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. To you, anyway.

The brunette across from you clearly doesn’t feel the same. “That’s unfair.”

“Leading someone on is unfair, Hailee.”

“You are so stubborn. How the hell did I ever sleep with you?”

You can’t tell if she’s joking or not but either way, you don’t want to hear another word from her.

“I’m leaving,” you say as you rise to your feet, ignoring your half-finished drink and the flash of regret that passes through those brown eyes you can’t help but love.

“Shit, shit, y/n, wait!”

“I already did wait or did you forget about that too?”

You don’t give her a chance to answer instead choosing to ignore her rushed apology and walking away like you should have done when this whole conversation started.

You make it about six feet away from the entrance when you hear Hailee’s voice calling after you. “Will you do it if I tell you it was my idea?”

It’s a desperate attempt for your attention and yet you fall for it all the same. Everything inside of you is telling you to leave but you can’t. Not when you’re this close to getting her to be honest with both herself and you.

“If it’s the truth,” you respond with your back still facing her.

“It is.” The scent of her perfume overwhelms you as her hands grip your waist. You fight back the urge to move away from her and allow her to turn you around to look at her. “I told my label it would be good publicity but honestly…I just really miss you.”

You can’t stop yourself from laughing. The sound comes out softer than you thought possible. “You couldn’t call like a normal person?”

“We’re not normal people, y/n,” she says, the ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. “You know that better than anyone. You know me better than anyone.”

“Do I?”

She takes a step closer to you and you hate the way your eyes instantly drop down to her lips. It’s an instinct that no amount of time away from her can rewrite. “Let me prove it to you. Please.”

“You’re not going to fix this with a few kisses, Hailee.”

There’s an unspoken promise in her eyes. One that says she’ll kiss you as many times as she has to until she proves you wrong. And you have no doubt that she will.

Her hands move up from your waist to cup your cheeks. Her movements are slow and careful almost as if she’s waiting for you to change your mind.

In a way, you do because whatever remaining doubt you had about your feelings for the brunette fades away in an instant. You push away all your hesitation and close the gap between your lips.

It’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared. It’s full of almost inaudible sighs, gentle touches, and the overwhelming truth of your desires. Mainly, the desire to keep going.

“One chance,” you whisper as you pull away. “I’ll help you with the music video. I’ll let you in again. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Promise.”

You’re about to tell her not to make promises she can’t keep but she kisses you again before you get the chance to.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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marxistcomedy · 7 months

Text

Anyone working in counter-propaganda can testify to a curious experience: we’ll put in hours of careful research collecting an impeccable set of resources that undermines some warmongering narrative, and we’ll eagerly share it with someone who claims to despise racism in all its forms — say, an outspoken opponent of the West’s so-called “War on Terror.” Unexpectedly, we are met with a response that is somewhere between chilly reticence and downright hostility. What’s going on?

From our perspective, we’re offering water to a person who’s self-identified as thirsty, and yet they react as if we were trying to poison them! They turn on a dime to defend the same institutions whose lies they were denouncing just moments before. At this point the sense of pride and accomplishment that comes from seeing through propaganda and putting puzzle pieces together into a satisfying historical account gets brutally transformed into its exact opposite: a sense of crushing defeat. In response to this bitter experience, many researchers — serious people, with plenty of experience reading and writing, and sometimes even of being published! — lash out. They decide that people have been “brainwashed” beyond the point where they can be reached by words or rational appeal. They “realize” that the masters of propaganda have been far more successful than we first imagined: it turns out we’re not David fighting Goliath, we’re more like an ant facing an asteroid.

The same inquisitive nature that first led them to unravel war propaganda narratives begins to feed an even larger psycho-historical narrative, and nihilism takes hold. The tragic cycle begins to appear eternal: innocent, well-meaning, hard-working folks are, time and again, viciously tricked by the scapegoating of a new rogue in the gallery — Indigenous, Black, Spanish, Jewish, Soviet, Vietnamese, Cuban, Serbian, Muslim, Libyan, Syrian, Korean, Venezuelan, Russian, Chinese. Due to the sheer power of propaganda and mass-media, the masses helplessly fall for hatred and volunteer for war, even though it comes at a very high cost to ourselves, our loved ones, and our ideals (religion, environmentalism, etc.). Sadly, the innate human propensity to “hate the Other” seals our fate as a society… or something along those lines.

I am going to argue that this narrative is nonsense. It tries to pass off as universal and eternal something that in reality is particular and ephemeral. In short: Westerners aren’t helpless innocents whose minds are injected with atrocity propaganda, science fiction-style; they’re generally smug bourgeois proletarians who intelligently seek out as much racist propaganda as they can get their hands on. This is because it fundamentally makes them feel better about who they are and how they live. The psychic and material costs are rationally worth the benefits. As for those anti-imperialists who don’t participate in this festival of xenophobia — and here I include myself — we have our own elitist consolation: we accept the tragedy of masses of gullible sheeple falling for cunning propaganda because having overcome it flatters our own intelligence. The more we condemn society’s stupidity, the smarter we feel in comparison.

But am I not just worsening the problem, aggravating our hopelessness, by criticizing the critics in a way that suggests that no one escapes ideological self-flattery? I don’t think so. Paradoxically, it brings us all back to a more even and possibility-rich playing field.

The prevailing populist narrative grants the People (of the West) moral innocence by attributing to them utter stupidity and naivety; I invert the equation and demand a Marxist narrative instead: Westerners are willingly complicit in crimes because they instinctively and correctly understand that they benefit as a class (as a global bourgeois proletariat) from the exploitation enabled by their military and their propaganda (in Gramscian: organs of coercion and consent). We’re not as stupid as we’re made out to be. This means that we can be reasoned with, that there is a way out.

[emphasis mine]

#very necessary read rn imo #red sails #roderic day

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deans-baby-momma · 1 year

Text

Law & Love Chapter 5

A/N: This was SUPPOSED TO BE the last chapter…..but, oh well. Who’s gonna complain about more Sheriff Beau Arlen? Am I right?

THEN

I do as he asks and before I know it, his lips are on mine and his arms are wrapped around my waist.

NOW

Chapped lips press earnestly against mine as I wrap my arms around Beau's neck, running my fingertips through the silk strands of his hair.

The kiss remains chaste and austere but still I melt against his solid and firm body. I whimper audibly when he pulls away.

His hands lingers on my hips as I slowly open my eyes and look up at him. Beau smiles sheepishly and whispers, "I've been dying to do that."

"Well, I wouldn't mind doing it again-" I say as I pull his face back down to mine and kiss one side of his mouth before moving to the opposite side and kissing. "-and again."

Beau's hands slide to my back and squeezes. "Is that right, darlin'?"

"Mm-hmm," I hum, with a nod. "And more."

"Damn sweetheart," he chuckles as his eyes twinkle. "You're going to give this old man a heart attack."

He smiles down at me before bending down and capturing my lips again, moving his over my mouth. I feel the faint trace of his tongue against the seam and willingly open my mouth to grant him entrance.

The taste of bitter coffee, cinnamon and a hint of sweetness explode over my taste buds as our tongues glide along one another. The moan that escapes my throat is unexpected but appropriate and Beau swallows it down with fervor.

By the time Jenny and Officer Poppernak return with the items from my house in hand, Beau and I are sitting on the small sofa in his office, watching funny videos on his phone. His arm is slung around my shoulders and we are temple-to-temple looking down at the mobile device.

“Looks like you made up,” Hoyt voices as they sit a box of the now despised gifts on the desk. I look up to see a warm smile on her face.

“Cozy,” Poppernak agrees with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Beau snaps his fingers and points at them both with his free hand. “Enough of that. Get those fingerprinted and logged ASAP.”

“Got it, sir, On it.” Poppernak nods and lifts the box. “Sorry.”

I smile up at the man, silently letting him know his jab is alright with me.

Beau escorts me home in the evening after getting me to sign an official statement and making sure no steps are missed when logging in the evidence and the fingerprints are scanned correctly.

“It takes about 24 hours for a match, if the person is in the system.” Beau explains as we head to his truck.” A little longer if they’ve never committed a crime.”

“Beau, what if-” I pause to word my concern correctly, “-whoever this is, hasn’t…you know, committed a crime?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he says with a squeeze of my hand. “Let me handle it okay, darlin’?”

“Yea okay,” I acquiesce. “But you’ll let me know if you find out who it is, right?”

He doesn’t answer as we pull into my driveway. His eyes are squinted and he is studying something through the windshield. I turn to look and gasp.

There are words spray painted on my front door. ‘You went to the cops?’

“Oh my god! How…..what….why?” I can’t form a complete thought let alone a whole sentence. My body is shaking as I read and re-read the words.

“Stay here,” Beau commands before he opens his door and jumps out. I watch as he canvasses the front side of my house and steps up to the door. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, bending over and picking something up. It looks like a piece of paper.

Beau carefully carries the item back to his truck and gets in.

“You’re not staying here,” he says with an authoritative tone that tells me there will be no discussion about it. “I’m taking you to my place. You can stay with me.”

We head back to the station and Beau rushes in, handing the new evidence to Poppernak. “Dust that for fingerprints and get a handwriting expert in here. This just upped the ante.”

I look at the paper and gasp. ‘Bitch you will pay for that’

Beau wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close. “Don’t work darlin’. I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you,” he whispers and peeks a kiss on top of my head.

“Pop, I’m taking Ms. Y/L/N to my trailer. Keep me updated. I don’t care what time it is. If something comes in, call me. Understand?”

Officer Poppernak nodded and looked at me, sincerely. “Don’t worry. We’ll get whoever it is.”

Beau ushers me back out to his vehicle and holds the door as I climb in. Once he is sure I am secure he closes the door and saunters around the front of it.

As he shuts his door, he sighs. “Well this isn’t exactly how I was hoping to spend time with you. My place-” he pauses as he sighs again. “-it ain’t much. Not a lot of room but I cannot keep you safe anywhere else. You trust me, right?”

Beau looks over at me solemnly. My heart breaks. “I trust you immensely Beau. We will figure it out. I’m not opposed to sharing your space, if you’re not.”

Beau half-smiles and turns the key, igniting the engine. “Darlin’ we’re going to be sharing more than just space.”

Much to my surprise, Beau’s trailer is actually a camper set up on the outskirts of town, near the boundary edge of the forest that borders the town. I never knew people actually lived out here but I’ve only been a resident myself for five weeks so I can’t really say I’d given it much thought.

Beau parks in front of the makeshift porch and turns the engine off, casting us in almost complete darkness and an absolute stillness. It’s peaceful and tranquil but my nerves are frazzled and I cannot seem to appreciate it.

What if my so-called secret admirer finds out where I am and decides to make good on his threat? There’s not a lot out here to stop him; no way to defend myself. Then I look over at Beau. His features are illuminated by the dim light of the dash.

If there is anything I’m sure of, it’s that Sheriff Beau Arlen will protect me and keep me safe.

My hero doesn’t wear a cape; he wears Wranglers and a Stetson.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @yvonneeeee @raisinggray

#law & love #jensen ackles #big sky #beau arlen #beau x reader

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issybettyx · 1 year

Text

TECHNOBLADE MAFIA BOSS AU

Did i say this was coming yesterday? Yes. Do i care? Not really, deal with it >:)

Tldr; Techno’s a feared mafia boss that even the government and police actively decide not to try intervene with, associates of his group (The Syndicate) being The Antarctic Empire (led by Philza), and L’Manberg (led by Wilbur Soot). No one interferes with any of them because of their relations to The Syndicate.

Everyone except a powered vigilante dubbed ‘Theseus’, better known as Tommy Innit, who people decide is either stupid or stronger than he looks. Little do they know, it’s a little bit of both.

Family ensues

Tw: cult (they call it a gang because they don’t know any better), mafia, weapons, manipulation, murder mention

Long one today boys, enjoy :D (i spent like three hours writing this it was so fun)

——

The first time Techno had heard the name ‘The Blood God’, he’d laughed so hard it was heard three levels below. It was spoken in such a shaky voice, sobs overtaking their body as they begged for forgiveness.

“Please, I have family, I never wanted to hurt any of your people, I promise.” They plead, and something about the way their hands shook and their head stayed bowed down told him they were scared. But he stayed deadly silent, keeping his eyes trained on them as they shook even more. “I’m sorry Blood God, I beg, I just-“

“What did you just call me?” He asked quickly, voice a little too quiet with shock, and they finally looked up, meeting his red eyes gaze for less than a second before looking away, taking a few steadying breaths.

“The Blood God, sir, that’s what they call you.”

Techno showed no emotion on his face for a solid five seconds, before he burst into laughter, wiping away the tears in his eyes as the victim stared up with wide eyes, not entirely sure what to do with themselves.

After a good two minutes of laughing, Techno managed out an order to kill them, and sent them off as he snickered.

Wilbur had understood him, sitting at their next meeting as he howled beside him. Phil didn’t quite understand the sentiment, finding it a little horrifying that the man had earned such a title, but laughed quietly along anyways. It’s not like he could say much, knowing he was nicknamed the ‘Angel of Death’, not that the other two would ever find out anyways.

The next time he’d heard the nickname, it was with more bitter context. He was on his way to do his shopping for the week, humming a tune as he flicked a penny in between his fingers. It so happened that when he walked past two teenagers on the side of the road, they were talking about him, not even noticing his presence as they snickered to themselves.

“I could take The Blood God, the police are such pussies, he’d be so easy.” The other nodded in agreement.

And maybe the first kid had collapsed as he rounded the corner, pretending not to hear pained screams from his friends as they called for help, humming a tune with a smile.

And from then on, most people didn’t know him as ‘Technoblade’, but rather ‘The Blood God’, and he found he wasn’t completely against it.

The Syndicate operated as always, but simply addressed him differently.

“Blood God, would you like us to add a Starbucks to floor 3?” He’d thought the idea was fantastic, coffee was extremely important for a working man.

“Blood God, what are your thoughts on hiring younger recruits?” No younger than 16, kids deserved to live happy lives before going into the world of crime.

“Blood God, why does Wilbur’s face look so funny?” It always had, most people were simply too afraid to admit it.

“Blood God, there’s this vigilante in the city, should we add him to the radar?” No it’s probably fine, vigilantes were as much as a threat to him as ants.

“Blood God, the same vigilante from a few weeks ago just took down Las Nevadas by himself, are you sure he’s not a threat?” Las Nevadas wasn’t built to survive, but to look pretty, anyone could take them down if they had the willpower to.

“Blood God, Philza’s defences were taken down last night by that vigilante.” Techno paused, staring at his employee - and maybe, possibly friend - Ranboo with his eyebrow raised.

“That same one you first told me about two months ago?” He asked cautiously, watching for any sign of amusement in the person’s heterochromatic eyes, but there was none.

“Yes Blood God.”

“Just call me Techno, that name is getting old.” Techno sighed out, pinching the bridge of his nose as Ranboo sighed. “What’s his name?”

“Theseus.”

He paused again, thinking it over.

Theseus was a Greek Legend. The story of Theseus was mainly about how he’d defeated the Minotaur. For years, the Minotaur had demanded seven kids and seven women every year, and no one was able to get through the maze and slay this beast.

That was until Theseus came along, and with the help of Ariadne (who gave him a ball of thread so he could find his way back out of the maze) was able to slay the Minotaur, and he became an Athenian hero.

However, Theseus was exiled, and found himself at an island named ‘Skyros’, where a man named Lycomedes threw him off the cliff, and he fell to his death.

The story of Theseus is tragic, and yet he showed strength when no one else could, he defeated the un-defeatable and saved Athens.

Everything about this vigilante, how he took down Las Nevadas single handedly, how he destroyed Philza’s defences (of which are some of the best in the country, despite his own), how his name perfectly correlated with the story of taking down something so massively feared by many.

Maybe it scared Techno a little.

And Techno was never scared.

“What’s his ability?” He asked, spinning in his chair as he chewed his nails, Ranboo looking unsure as they looked at the tablet in his hands.

“No one really knows, people only have theories.” Ranboo tried, but Techno’s silence was enough for him to continue. “Some people believe he can manipulate opinions, they say he can make them think he’s trust worthy and lure them into his trap.” Techno had never heard of anything like that before, but only furrowed his brows. “Some people think he can speak to people in their heads, convince them to turn themselves into the police.”

“So it’s some kind of controlling ability?” Techno asked cautiously, and Ranboo nodded, because what else could it possibly be? “Do we know why he broke down Philza’s defences?”

At this, Ranboo smiled, typing into their tablet before hopping to stand next to the boss, pressing play on the video and turning it to him.

There stood a kid, his face covered by a red mask shaped to cover his mouth, his hair covering the upper half of his face; blue eyes could be seen through the golden blonde, shimmering with a horrible amount of determination. His suit was red, that much was clear by the pant legs and red boots, but he wore a red hoodie over the top of the suit.

To the outside eye, he seemed harmless, almost as if he was asking someone to shoot him in the chest. However, the kid having been powerful to destroy a nation, Technoblade knew better.

He’d been underestimated once, and he wasn’t keen on following in the footsteps of those who doubted him in the first place.

“Why are you doing all of this, Theseus?” A reporter asked, holding out the mic to the vigilante who coughed almost as if to catch everyone’s attention.

“This country has been under The Syndicate’s control for too long, the FBI have given up taken them down, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” He explained, a grin clearly planted on his face despite the mask covering his mouth.

“What makes you think you can take them down when others couldn’t?” She asked, and Theseus scoffed, rolling his eyes under his mess of hair.

“Because, Linda-“

“My name isn’t-“

“I have something they don’t.” The vigilante stared directly into the camera, making eye contact with Techno. A part of him knew it was directed at him, another part wished it wasn’t. “I have something to prove.”

Techno held down his grimace.

It was all too familiar.

The video ended, and Ranboo pulled his tablet to his chest, a steady smile on their face as they studied Techno’s expression, of which the latter kept perfectly apathetic.

“Wishing he was on your radar when I first suggested it?” Ranboo teased, Techno finally groaning as he rolled his eyes, turning in his chair to look at the picture frame behind him. Some said it was stupid to find comfort in something so insignificant, some being his parents and the people from his gang when he was only eleven.

The picture was of him, Phil and Wilbur. Techno was hunched over, a controller in hand with his tongue stuck out. Wilbur’s face looked a lot more upset, brows furrowed as he glared at the screen Techno knew was there despite it not being in frame. Phil’s face was closest to the camera, a wide grin on his face as he took a selfie of them all.

So yeah, maybe he did keep a picture of his family in his office as a constant reminder to do what was best, who was anyone to judge?

“If Theseus has gone after Philza, he’s bound to go for L’Manberg next, correct?”

“Unless he’s stupid enough to approach The Syndicate, yes, however we aren’t sure when he’s planning to do so.” Ranboo returned, moving his tablet into only their right hand and holding it beside his leg. “The dude has no documents of anything, it’s almost as if he’s acting impulsively.” Techno frowned, mainly from the unsureness that came with impulsivity. Either it was someone’s downfall, or their greatest strength. For Techno, it had been both.

“Is he working alone?” Techno asked, leaning back and looking at the roof, hoping it would hold the answer to all his problems.

“Most people believe so, but we’ve got camera footage of some kind of earpiece being attached to his right ear.” He’s right-handed, he’s not working alone, he’s impulsive, no one knows his ability, he’s powerful. Yeah this wasn’t sounding great. “Would you like me to schedule a meeting with Philza and Wilbur?”

Techno could only manage a nod, pressing two fingers to his temples in an attempt to loosen in the incoming headache. Work wasn’t meant to be this difficult.

“Meeting is at 11pm tonight at The Syndicate’s main meeting room, they’ve both been notified.” Ranboo informed, and Techno managed a smile.

“Thanks Ran, can you send in the next deviant?” He asked, receiving a hum in return. But when Techno eventually opened his eyes, the other was still stood there, an unsure look on their face.

“Don’t stress too much over this, if worse comes to worse you need to be calm to do your best, alright?” Ranboo said eventually, and Techno couldn’t help the warm smile on his face, eyes softening at the person in front of him.

“I’ll try my best.” And with a nod and a reassuring smile, Ranboo left the room.

—

“So, let me get this straight.” Wilbur started, hands clasped in front of him. “A vigilante who first appeared three months ago, who took down Las Nevadas a month ago, has only just been noticed?” Wilbur asked, and Techno groaned.

“Yes, Wil! What’s so hard to understand?”

“Why wasn’t this kid on your radar before he took down Phil’s guards and his fucking lazars!” Wilbur yelled, and Phil winced slightly. “How did he even manage to take down those lazars?! Aren’t they deeply encrypted with code to make sure they can’t be turned off by outside sources?”

“That’s why I’m so concerned, Wil.” Phil managed out, somehow managing to have a smile on his face despite the terrible situation they’ve found themselves in. “He wasn’t on Techno’s radar because no one has ever been this big of a threat before, we didn’t expect a vigilante of all people to be able to do such things.”

“What’s this kid’s power anyway?” Wilbur spat, and Phil and Techno shared a knowing glance. “Oh my god, you don’t know.”

“Well, we know he can make people do certain things, like mind control but also… not.” Techno drifted off, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Apparently some of my people even saw him drive a car that didn’t have a wheel.” Phil explained, and that only puzzles them more. “So unless the car somehow had a form of autopilot, I think we have some strange ass power on our hands.”

“Not stranger than Wilbur’s.” Techno scoffed, and the man immediately started to defend himself, Phil hiding his laughs behind his hand.

Techno had never had a true family.

His parents never paid enough attention to him, they taught him to be emotionless and silent whenever guests were around, they taught him that learning a musical instrument was a waste of time and his time would be better spent studying. And then, aged 11 he joined a gang who named themselves ‘The Blades’.

That’s where he had gotten his name, ‘Technoblade’.

The names of his associates were long gone with the hazy memories, but he did remember one person teaching him how to accurately hold a gun, another teaching him not to shake whilst doing so.

One person had spent days going over Greek Mythology with him, making sure he knew every fact and every retelling.

Another had taught him that family should be left behind, family meant weakness and weakness meant death.

Aged 15, Techno realised that maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was capable of more than what The Blades had to offer. And that’s how The Syndicate was born.

When Techno was 17, he met Phil through official business, and the man had been shocked at how young he was. Phil was the first person to show that he cared, and it was because he was concerned that Techno was throwing himself into the business too soon. When he’d found out just how young Techno was thrown into it, the man had cried.

The Great Philza, a man who’d seen empires fall and strong men weep.

Philza had cried in front of him, purely because of Techno’s life.

And then, it was on Techno’s 19th birthday that he’d met Wilbur. It was at the latter’s 19th birthday party, at the dawn of L’Manberg when the group itself was only small. Wilbur had been shocked at first that they were born on the same day, but by the end of the night had his arm slung over Techno’s arm as he called them twins (Techno didn’t stop him, sipping Pepsi max through a straw. His indifference definitely wasn’t because of the warmth forming in his chest at the idea of having a brother.)

And that was how the Sleepy Boys Incorporated began.

Except it was a little more illegal than an incorporation, but who was going to tell them to change the name?

Plus, it’s not like the public knew their alliance was called that, more-so they knew it as the ‘SBI’, admittedly a lot more terrifying than what it stood for.

The SBI were rumoured to be family, some even said by blood. Techno wished that was true, that Phil was truly his Dad and that Wilbur wasn’t just his twin by coincidence. However, that didn’t take away from how he truly saw them.

Blood or not, they were his family. And Phil had taught him a valuable lesson once, and that was that family always stick together, and they protect each-other no matter the cost.

No matter how large Theseus’ determination was to take The Syndicate, and the SBI, down, Techno knew his will to keep his family safe was stronger.

No Theseus was going to kill him, no matter how much effort it took.

—

As it turned out, Theseus was stupid.

“Unless he’s stupid enough”, Ranboo had said, “He won’t come for The Syndicate” they said.

Techno was enjoying a moment of silence with his caramel macchiato when he got a notification from the entrance security cameras, and immediately checked them. The sight that met him was Theseus, eyes creased as if he was smiling, giving the guards a short wave.

“Go away kid, vigilantes aren’t welcome unless affiliated with The Blood God himself.” One of them, Hannah was her name, told him, her eyes sharp with something fierce that usually put people off. But Theseus just hummed, looking around them for a moment before moving his hands behind his back. If it wasn’t for the camera angle, Techno would’ve missed it.

The kid’s hands moved in such an elegant, calculated way, and as he did so that fierce look in Hannah’s eyes changed to something warm and almost endeared. “I think that The Blood God has made an exception for me, didn’t he tell you to let me in?”

The other guard must’ve noticed something was off, glaring at Theseus as he spoke. “What did you do to her?” Puffy spat, hands curling tighter around her sword as she held it up to Theseus’ neck. Surprisingly, Theseus simply smiled again, using his other hand and copying the same elegant movements as before.

“The Blood God ordered you to spar, and ordered that I meet with him, he told you this.”

And it was like a switch was flipped.

They both simultaneously smiled, moving to the side and motioning to the doorway. “Well,” Hannah started, chuckling to herself, “Who are we to disobey the boss’ orders?”

“Well, who knew the Technoblade hired such sweethearts.”

Hannah continued to smile, but Puffy’s smile turned back into that sharp powerful thing it usually was, bringing her sword down onto Theseus’ back without giving him a moment to block, yelping as he fell to the ground.

Kid. Fully dependant on ability. Overestimates his ability. Underestimates members of The Syndicate. Didn’t go for L’Manberg. Didn’t invade The Antarctic Empire after taking down their defences. Had head guard Puffy in a headlock-

Wait what?

“Ranboo.” Techno called, the person immediately appearing in front of him with a hum. “Teleport me to the front gates.”

Without a second question, Ranboo sent a puff of particles to Techno’s chest, and after a moment of pure terror, Techno appeared in front of Theseus, his own sword flicking beside him.

“Nice to meet you too.” Techno welcomed, the kid’s head shooting up immediately, a grin gracing his face as he held Puffy tight. Hannah still seemed to be in a trance.

“Ah, Technoblade.” No one calls him Technoblade but his family and his mortal enemies, but Theseus definitely wasn’t family. “Was expecting you to show up some time soon.”

“Please let my guard out of your grasp before I make you.” Techno commanded, and despite his kind words the tone it was spoken with was nothing but deadly.

It seemed Theseus heard the threat, releasing his arms and holding them by his head, keeping that same wicked grin on his face as Puffy huffed out as she hit the floor.

“Take Hannah out of that trance.”

Theseus clicked his fingers, and Hannah blinked, looking back with confusion. “What the-“

“Take me inside your institution, Blood God.” Theseus demanded, and Techno could only frown, raising an eyebrow at the other. “Let me see what I’m up against.”

“I mean, I was planning to invite you inside for a friendly cup of Starbucks coffee, but it’s quite rude to demand entrance in a place where you’re not welcome.” Techno spat back, and Theseus continued to smile.

“And what made me, of all people, exiled from The Syndicate?” Theseus asked, his amused tone only making that fire inside Techno grow. Oh how he wanted to slit this vigilante’s throat, but he wasn’t taught patience for nothing. But his patience was running incredibly thin.

“You messed with my family.” Finally, finally, Theseus faltered, and Techno took this moment of weakness to let the kid’s blood thrum under his own veins, tugging it towards him. “And people who mess with my family, mess with me, but you knew that didn’t you?”

“I knew Philza was part of the SBI alliance,” Theseus admitted, a dark glint to his eye that was much different to the amusement it once held. “But your family? If I knew he was family I would never had messed with him.”

Techno scoffed. “Please, I don’t believe that for a second.” He scowled as he rolled his eyes. “Ranboo.”

“Yes Techno?” Theseus’ eyes went wide as he looked at Ranboo.

“Take us to my office, please.” He asked with a small smile towards the man, and they were off in a puff of particles.

—

Being in an office alone with Theseus was unbearable. He’d taken the first chance to handcuff the kid to the chair across from his desk, but he didn’t stop talking.

“So one day, like, I woke up with this epiphany that I could be so poggers and just be epic.” He chattered on, and Techno was hardly listening as he messaged several help calls to the SBI group chat - they were mafia bosses, not weirdos, they have a group chat - who laughed but promised they were on their way.

“So is Wilbur Soot, like, your brother or something?” Theseus asked, spinning mindlessly as Techno hummed.

“Twin.”

“That’s poggers.”

“What does that even mean?”

Theseus said a lot of strange things in the time it took for Phil and Wilbur to arrive.

Something something kill something something control something something boring something something The Blades-

“The Blades?” Techno asked, his curiosity showing before he could mask it, and Theseus paused, giving him a strange look before slowly nodding.

“They found me when I was 9, taught me everything I know, and most specifically that you’re a massive dick!” Tommy expressed, and Techno simply stared, pinching his noses and rubbing his eyes.

Well that explained a lot.

“What did they tell you, Theseus?” Techno pressed, hearing a knock on the door that neither of them paid attention to.

“That you’re a traitor, that you abandoned them for your own selfishness- hell, you went against every rule they teach you in there!”

The knock came again. No one commented.

“I did what was best for me! What they teach is all a calculated lie, and you know it.”

“Techno?” Wilbur’s voice called from outside. No one opened the door for him.

“The Blades teach you how to control your abilities, you took their teachings and created a brutal empire with zero credit.”

“Credit? They want credit? They did nothing good for me, and I’m sure they never did anything good for you-“

“They saved me.”

“No, they saw a powerful ability and wanted it for themselves, you’re just a kid.”

The door was slammed open, and Philza stood on the other side, his dark black wings having been retracted likely for intimidation purposes. The man’s eyebrow was raised, blue eyes shimmering dangerous as they flickered between the two sat at the desk.

“I sure hope you’re insured on this building, Technoblade.” Philza scoffed, smiling before relaxing at the sight of the handcuffs, tugging Wilbur in by his upper arm. “Who’s this fantastic guest we have here?” He asked, but a type of anger coated his words that made Theseus sink in a little on himself, before immediately righting himself, likely smiling with pride.

“Theseus, pleased to meet your acquaintance Philza.” Theseus introduced, going to offer his hand before frowning, tugging at the cuffs before groaning. Philza smiled at this, Wilbur huffed at the kid’s annoyance. Techno saw through the facade.

“Phil, do you have any way to restrain his fingers, I have no doubt he can break out of these things if he tried.” There was a warning written between his words, as he stared at Theseus sat in front of him. A warning that said ‘if you even try I will make sure you don’t get out of this room alive’, and the kid seemed to understand, his smile dropping from his face.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec.” Phil replied, shoving his hands deep in his pockets before pulling out two very strange metal contraptions, walking over and taking the boy’s hands carefully in his own.

“Who knew the Angel of Death was such a sweetheart?” Theseus scoffed, watching closely as the metal slotted onto his fingers. Wilbur’s face was full of confusion, Techno managed a smile, and Phil shot the kid the dirtiest look known to man.

The Angel of Death? Is that what they call Phil? That’s so much cooler than the Blood God.

No matter how much Theseus preached The Blades had saved him, they both knew better. Techno knew the look of longing in the kid’s eyes too well, as Phil’s warm hands held his own with unseen care. Techno had been there once, in a similar situation, and it made him question the authority in his life and how they’d never been so kind. It made him want a father, and he knew Theseus felt the same.

“There, he shouldn’t be able to move-“

“Do you have terrible parents or dead ones?” Techno asked before he could stop himself, Wilbur’s face going absolutely distraught as Phil’s went shocked. Surprisingly, Theseus gave him a small smile behind his mask.

“Died when I was nine, The Blades found me before the police arrived at the scene.” He returned, almost challenging.

“The Blades?” Phil asked quietly to himself, waiting for the shock on Techno’s face that never came.

“Right. And how long ago was that?”

The kid paused, a thoughtful glint in his eye as he stared Techno down, the man in turn returning it full force.

“Seven years ago.”

He leaned back in his chair, leaning his legs on the desk and crossing one leg over the other.

“And they prepared you to come after me? Didn’t they?” Techno asked, and Theseus for once stayed absolutely silent. “They saw your ability and knew you were their best chance at taking The Syndicate down, a small vulnerable boy with a manipulative ability.”

“They took me in because I needed help, I needed saving, this is just me repaying the debt-“

“Keep telling yourself that kiddo.”

The room was in silence for a moment, and it was Wilbur who eventually broke it.

“You think they raised him for the soul purpose of killing you?” Wilbur asked slowly, silence being enough confirmation. “What kind of sadists would do that?”

When Techno looked at Theseus, he saw exactly what he’d felt eight years ago. Worry, realisation, and yet resignation to the truth. Acceptance of the difficult, in simpler words.

“You can stay here, if you’d like.” Techno offered, and everyone in the room turned to him in shock, even Ranboo who stood with a tray of four Starbucks drinks in hand, jaw slightly ajar. Understandably, Theseus was wary.

“There’s a but.”

“But,” Techno continued, smiling when the kid sighed. “You have to tell me your name and tell me your ability.”

His quiet consideration was shocking enough.

His answer was even more so.

“My name is Tommy, and I know this will sound so dumb but I can rewire anything.”

“Like TV’s?” Phil asked, cocking his head as Tommy smiled, nodding.

“Oh! And, like, can you rewire lightbulbs to make them brighter?”

“Bit dumb but yes.”

“And brains.” Techno finished, looking at Tommy closely as he froze, looking back at Techno with a careful eye. “That’s how you control people, you rewire their brains with that weird finger motion.”

“The Blades taught you well, quite perceptive you are.” Tommy teased, and Techno would he lying if he said he didn’t feel a little pride from the statement.

After all, you can leave The Blades.

But The Blades never leave you.

“Welcome to The Syndicate, Tommy.” Techno said with a smile, walking over and tugging his mask down, a young but scarred face staring back at him with a hopeful smile.

Tommy was too young, taken too young, melded because of his own selfishness.

The least he could do was take him in and love him like a brother, because he knew Wilbur would grow a liking to him in the first few days, and Phil’s fatherly tendencies would forgive him even sooner.

“It’s a pleasure to be here, Blood God.”

“Call me Techno.”

Tommy’s smile was bright, and Techno was shocked to find his brighter.

—————

Sbi sbi sbi sbi

Fun facts about this au:

- Techno has a pig mask to cover his face, but instead of it being pink it’s black and has glitter because he’s fancy like that

- Tommy knew The Blades influence was bad, but never had anyone better to look up to - hence, Technoblade, which was why he accepted the help

- Phil had wanted to adopt Wilbur and Techno, but they were both too old by the time he’d even suggested it. He adopts Tommy before his 18th.

- The Blades get pissy that Tommy gave in so easily and literally fall out with each-other; Techno’s kindness was the fall of the organisation that had shaped him (and also traumatised him). In English teacher terms, this shows how they no longer have any power over him at all, going against their ideals and taking them down in the process

- Wilbur finds Tommy rewiring his own guard’s minds and tells him off, only to find he was sneaking in to hear him play his guitar because Techno said he could play

- Since Twinsduo’s first meeting, they used to go places and just preach how they were twins - more so Wilbur did and Techno went along with it. They did this so often that sometimes Techno forgot they weren’t actually related.

Hope you all enjoyed :D

#dream smp #mcytblr #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #sbi #sleepy bois inc #bedrock bros #dream smp au #bedrock bros au #sbi au #sleepy boys inc au #technoblade mafia boss #mafia au #funny boys #vigilante tommy

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balladofthewhitehorse · 5 months

Note

How about 18 "tell me what you're scared of" for scotfra?💖💖

Teehee >:3c

‘’Tell me what you’re scared of?’’

France rolled their eyes, letting their gaze settle toward some dark corner. The presence of their friend felt too much like the Sun, to look at it would only hurt more. ‘’I’m not scared of anything-’’ They scoffed, waving a hand manner-of-factly; Scotland should know this, France mused as they hovered in the vast hallway. Candlelight flickered warmly, filling the space with such colour - finally woven tapestries adoring the stark stone walls. ‘’-Why do you want to know?’’ A lump rose in their throat, hackles bristling as France rested a hand on the hilt of their sword - Do I look scared?

‘’I just-’’ Scotland shrugged, drifting across the floor with measured strides. A bitter gloomy thing twisted in the pit of his belly, Scotland casting France a hard stare as they continued to look away. ‘’-How am I meant to guard you if you keep pushing me away, France?’’ He groused, voice as soft as velvet - but his face as hard as iron. ‘’I haven’t spoken to you for days, for months and you haven’t said a thing to me.’’ A resentful scoff bubbled from the back of his throat (the dog left out in the cold - Scotland’s gaze sharp as he glared at France’s back, almost bitter). ‘’Is this the thanks you’re giving me?’’ He snorted, grinning sharply at France as he slowly stood up, the line of his shoulders hard and tense. ‘’Hm?’’

‘’Don’t take it so personally.’’ They narrowed their eyes, whirling around to stare at Scotland - hands balled into a fist (he couldn’t stand at the cliffs forever - wasting men and ships, no matter how much France would love to). ‘’I’m not scared of anything.’’ France bristled, gritting their teeth together as Scotland rolled his eyes. ‘’I don’t know if you’ve forgotten-’’ They ground out, all teeth. ‘’-But you sought me out.’’ France hissed, glaring at Scotland.

Scotland grimaced, face going pale as France’s eyes bore into him (digging, like the claw of a rooster - digging and digging until it found blood at last). ‘’Whatever. It was just a question.’’

France was about to reply - when there was a sudden cry through the halls of the castle; A warning, and France was off like a hare. Soldiers were gathering, like a rising tide - lapping the walls of the castle, and France could see a few familiar emblems fluttering in the wind. It was clear that England was here - and he was baying for blood. Reeling back, France pulled their sword out of their scabbard and turned to face Scotland, eyes expectant - patient as Scotland drew in a deep breath, and then nodded. Good, they were both in understanding then. Without another glance, France watched as Scotland moved ahead - a mountain amongst men, going to rally his men for one final defence.

France pursed their lips together - uncertain what they wanted to say, to call out as they lost sight of Scotland. God be with you? Good luck? Don’t get yourself killed? Childish thoughts, to say the least - and thus they left, marching up the stairs to look down over the small bodies beneath. Boiling oil and tar had been prepared, France biting back a grimace (they remembered the way it seared - blistering flesh) as they were slowly lifted up onto the stone walls. ‘’I’ll be there-’’ France whispered, muttering under their breath as their men moved about them like ants and suddenly, France felt as though they were a long distance away.

The siege had begun and Scotland was doing a good job of holding back the wall - but, France knew that England would never stop. He had been railing against the castle defences for months already (a dog at their gates, wild-eyed and howling defiance - surely, someone would need to put him down and France intended to be that person). ‘’England-!’’ They called out, eyes wide as they moved through the dark castle - there was the sound of wood splintering, of metal crashing against metal (a storm had whirled into France’s space, and they drew in a deep breath, like a man who knows that he is about to drown).

Scotland staggered - a red stripe of blood flowing down his face as he glared at England. It had been a mad dash, a scramble really as brother met brother in the courtyard. Scotland knew that it had been inevitable, but perhaps he had hoped that England would be…smaller, somehow. Diminished, once he found himself in the shadows of the great castle Scotland’s men had built stone by stone. ‘’You’re a fucking bastard-’’ He swore, feinting to the left as England’s hammer cleaved the air - whistling with a dark promise, England’s hands tight around the handle of his weapon (much to Scotland’s dismay, hoping to disarm England).

‘’Says you!’’ England snapped, his voice sharp and indignant. Ragged and worn, his armour was tarnished and England felt a pang of resentment course through him as he stared at Scotland in disbelief. For months, England had been starving and thirsting outside the castle walls, a siege of endurance - stamina sapped by the cold damp that had crept into his bones. England could have distinctly sworn that France had claimed that their country was supposed to be warm! ‘’You’re a damn fucking-’’ England snarled as the hammer swung towards Scotland’s face - biting back a yelp as Scotland caught his knuckles with his sword.

‘’Get out of here.’’

England’s eyes seemed to blaze - as the two clashed and crashed further into the bowels of the castle. All else seemed to dim, Scotland and England circling one another; An oddly hypnotic dance of steel and blood as England hounded Scotland up the stairs, teeth grit as they rambled towards the high towerpoints. ‘’Get out?! Get out-!’’ England snarled, war-hammer crashing with a loud clatter - slick with blood, the weapon had flung from his hands, and for a brief moment England stood still, trembling with fury. ‘’You’re my brother.’’

‘’That means nothing.’’ Scotland replied coldly, lunging forward with a flash of steel. His sword slid harmlessly against England’s mail, Scotland quickly turning on his heel to direct another flashing blow at his brother. ‘’You’ve got no weapon, England-’’ He sneered, glaring at his brother - chest heaving with exertion as he began to approach slowly, sword held high over his head. ‘’-Best give up the fight.’’ Adrenaline pounded through Scotland, as he prepared to cleave England’s head from his shoulders - when suddenly, England lunged.

Colliding solidly with Scotland, England grappled for his sword - hands clutched around his wrists as he snarled. The stone walls seemed to rise up around him, and they were teetering on the edge, the earth swaying beneath their feet. ‘’Shut the fuck up-’’ A sound, someone’s footsteps racing up the stairs - England’s head snapping to glare sullenly at the doorway, staring at France with mute disbelief - and then exasperation, groaning resentfully as frustration welled up inside him. ‘’Can’t you ever stay away, France?’’ He growled, arched over his brother (a cage - protective or captive, it was hard to tell and England continued to watch France warily, his hands gripping Scotland’s wrists).

France’s chest heaved as they stood on the landing, their sword stained with blood. England stared at them. His eyes seemed to ask, tauntingly - Are you going to let my brother die?

Heart hammering in their chest, France knew what the answer was. They didn’t hesitate as they surged forward, a battle cry on their lips as they collided with England (Claws finding their way into the soft flesh, for all the shaggy mane there was - blood drawn, an old emnity). They sank their sword into England’s flank, and the sky span overhead.

They tumbled - staggering and half-sliding down the side of the castle as they went flying. Limbs and hair and steel, France felt less like a thing - and more like a concept. Courage and sacrifice, all good things in a person - all good things in France.

The earth that rushed to meet them - never felt more merciful, the sound of bones almost melodious.

England lay shattered, a bloody stain on the dew-wet grass; Overhead, Scotland stared - vaguely surprised-looking shadow to France. Alive at least.

France let out a wet gasp, lungs bubbling as they loosened their grip. At least Scotland was okay.

#hws france #hws scotland #hws england #it does wound me to focus NOT on Eng #but there’s a PortEng prompt coming up ;3 #anyway will i stop hurting France?#no. look at that man. theyre made for hurting #this is a joke i do love them #anyway!!! enjoy!!!! ScotFra!!!#scotfra

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wilbyowo · 3 months

Note

Hello. I don't know if you're still interested but I just found about the, still in work, game The Militsioner and also found your posts, how much you want to talk about it so I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons for our giant?

HELLO!!! SORRY FOR THIS TAKING SOME TIME TO POST, COLLEGE WAS TRYING TO FIGHT ME!

Ok ok so

I mentioned he likes birds, but i think he is an animal person in general, birds are just his favourites.

I think he doodles on his notepad, it’s literally the only other form of stimulation other than watching the town like it’s an ant farm. Someone please get this guy a pop-it or something.

Idk how many things i put in my other post, but i think his hair is slightly curly. Rain makes it worse (better)

I think that he feels very exposed without his hat. It’s basically the only cover he has, so i think that he’s not a fan of not having it on.

He’d either have a major sweet tooth or enjoy the most horrifically bitter, strange mixtures of foods you’ve ever seen and idk which is better

I don’t think he’d be much of a drinker if he had alcohol at his size. Like maybe during special occasions, but i don’t think he finds drinking on regular days fun

Plays with his tie when he’s bored and then immediately tries and sets it back to how it was because now it’s all creased and he doesn’t exactly have an iron to get creases out

I think he’d LOVE classic literature, let him read every book he can find, even if it’s too small for him and he needs help seeing the words and turning the page.

I don’t think he realises entirely how TERRIFYING it is to be picked up like a bug, like he’s aware that it’s daunting but he doesn’t know how terrifying because he doesn’t have a frame of reference. Maybe the player eventually befriends him enough to explain their point of view.

#militsioner #g/t #rambling of a mad man in a cave #i need to pop him like a pimple #hc post

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ayanegooding · 4 months

Text

MY SOLO MUSIC CREDITS IN MY FAME DR

PEOPLE YOU KNOW (2018)

wicked games

can i

fairplay

cut em off

if you hate me

shame

people you know

AYANÉ (2020)

ladylike

must be mine ft. ant clemons

movin

mad at me

chocolate ft. ari lennox

forfeit ft. lucky daye

plenty more

skiterlude

labels ft. moneybagg yo & bia

honest

feel a way

separation ft. arin ray

none for you

protection

no takebacks

youth

DELUXE TRACKS (2021)

cancelled

amazing

second chances ft. 6lack

crazy

good girl ft. col3trane

only fan & jacquees

attention

GRUDGES (2023)

bitter bitch

irresponsible

promise me

gone ft. bryson tiller

gemini slander

lmk

jealous ft. ella mai

focus

too far

deeper

grudges

deserve

same type

where you go w/ khalid

closure

magic

SINGLES + FEATURES

ayané tesfaye - ex (remix) ft. lil baby (2018)

power is power - the weeknd, ayané tesfaye, travis scott (from game of thrones) (2019)

ayané tesfaye - stuck with you ft. bryson tiller (2020)

usher- this day ft. ayané tesfaye (from jingle jangle: a christmas story) (2020)

they - count me in ft. ayané tesfaye (2021)

khalid - voicemail ft. ayané tesfaye (2021)

can’t feel my face - ayané tesfaye (from sing 2) (2021)

doja cat - i don’t do drugs ft. ayané tesfaye (2021)

bryson tiller - presents ft. ayané tesfaye (2021)

ayané tesfaye - ur best friend ft. kehlani (2022)

who do you think you are - ayané tesfaye & cautious clay (from the school for good and evil) (2022)

unpredictable - destin conrad & ayané tesfaye (2022)

popular - playboi carti, ayané tesfaye & the weeknd (from the idol) (2023)

kali uchis - deserve me ft. ayané tesfaye (2023)

eyes off you - arlissa, ayané tesfaye, m22 (from barbie) (2023)

princess cut - offset & ayané tesfaye (2023)

the feels - labrinth & ayané tesfaye (2023)

pensamientos intrusivos - kali uchis & ayané tesfaye (2024)

notes: my voice claim is kiana ledé so most of my music is from her. go listen she’s amazing. might add or take away but this is what i have for now. i’m making links for all the music soon. xoxo.

#fame dr #halle bailey #shifting script #actress dr #singer dr #kiana lede #rhythm and blues #the weeknd

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louissatturi · 5 months

Text

Now spiderbit fits tempo perdido so so much more

The song is romantic for sure but the song sounds so tragic and dispering

The name is literally "lost time"

The lyrics are both romantic and sad

Look

Todos os dias quando acordo

Every day when i wake up

Não tenho mais

I don’t have

O tempo que passou

The time that passed anymore

Mas tenho muito tempo

But i have a lot of time

Temos todo o tempo do mundo

We have all the time in the world

Todos os dias

Everyday

Antes de dormir

Before sleeping

Lembro e esqueço

I remember and forget

Como foi o dia

How the day was

Sempre em frente

Always going foward

Não temos tempo a perder

We dont have any time to lose

Nosso suor sagrado

Your holy sweat

É bem mais belo

Is way more beutiful

Que esse sangue amargo

Then this bitter blood

E tão sério

And is so serious

E selvagem! Selvagem!

It’s feral! Feral!

Selvagem!

Feral!

Veja o sol

See the sun

Dessa manhã tão cinza

In this grey morning

A tempestade que chega

A storm that comes

É da cor dos teus olhos

And it’s the color of your eyes

Castanhos

Hazel

Então me abraça forte

So hold me tight

E diz mais uma vez

And tell me once more

Que já estamos

That we are already

Distantes de tudo

Far away from every

Temos nosso próprio tempo

We have your own time

Temos nosso próprio tempo

We have your own time

Temos nosso próprio tempo

We have your own time

Não tenho medo do escuro

I am not afraid of the dark

Mas deixe as luzes

But let the lights

Acesas agora

On now

O que foi escondido

What was hidden

É o que se escondeu

And what hided itself

E o que foi prometido

And what was promissed

Ninguém prometeu

Nobody promissed it

Nem foi tempo perdido

It wasn’t even lost time

Somos tão jovens

We are so young

Tão jovens! Tão jovens!

So young! So young!

#qsmp #the hazel is dark brown eyes not hazel ones #i chose hazel because it looks prettier #and the hold me tight is actually hug me tight #but it dosent make any sanse in english #roier #cellbit #spiderbit #guapoduo #Spotify

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birdy-the-tweet · 6 months

Text

Amusing Darkness

A Nexo Knights Rewrite deleted scene

/|______________________________________|\

“Ah… The power’s out.” The old man chuckled to himself at the humor obscured in the lack of artificial light. While the dozens of townsfolk screamed and raced for the nearest exits after the king’s unpleasant declaration of darkness, he and his accomplice stood idle in the crowd and budged little when mortal bodies shoved against their sides. Both wore matching cloaks to conceal their faces, find fabric dyed a rich emerald green and embroidered in sigils and runes of golden thread. He, a seven food colossus of a disguised human, made little effort to hide his hearty weight and rounded stomach. It made him look plentiful, he reckoned. Wealthy in necessities and grateful for his fortune as a king.

His partner, standing only a foot and a half lower than him, was more scrawny compared to his eye-catching stature and barely indulged in the fineries of their lives. Bitter green eyes surveyed the chaos around them, and her mouth contorted in a dissatisfying grimace. “Foolish. It’s like they don’t want to save themselves even if it’s a petty thing to fear.”

“‘Tis a fear of many mortal kind, my dewdrop,” the king hummed back as if the idea amused him. “When man grows comfortable in safety and solitude, the sheer thought of the dark can deter many’s hearts. But still, I get your point. The locals are practically tripping over themselves trying to leave. It’s quite a sunny day, and light is light even if its path is blinding.”

“I swear on Puck’s two left feet, if I have to endure one more body colliding into mine-“ A mother shoved her way past the lady with two children in her arms. Her frantic apologies were met on deaf ears as the princess silently felt her patience thin into fragile glass.

A hand on her shoulder kept her from unleashing karma onto the woman. “Temperance, Nimue. They do not know better than primal instinct. Let them calm their simple minds.”

The sigh she vented through clenched jaws could poison a dragon with the sharp chill of her temper. Delicate hands concealed by leather gloves adjusted the latch of her cloak and pulled her hood further over her skull. “Yes Father, as you wish...”

“Good. Now, shall we follow the crowd outside? See what they’re up to now?”

“…I suppose.“

The two turned away from the balcony of the Joustdome, away from the gathering of robotic slaves and clumsy knights struggling to adjust to the building’s darkness, away from the evil that would awaken in less than an hour. That wasn’t their problem. They came to watch the people, no more than that. A long week of exploring the wild lands of Knighton was more than enough reason to take a break from the adrenaline of a monster hunt and observe the local ant hill of mankind. His Majesty had the luxury of a child’s invitation into this precarious land and thought it best to entertain his daughter with the people’s infantile routines and materialistic desires. While he wasn’t surprised she found little enjoyment in their paranoid behavior, it drew a smile to his face to know she at least paid attention.

“If I may ask,” the Lady of the Lake uttered to his side. “Is this what you’ve intended to do with that squire you cursed?”

The king’s eyes furrowed like a thread tightening into the braids of a crochet pattern. “Hm? Elaborate.”

“To instill fear. To toy with the man’s simple mind. Is that what you seek to do with the squire?”

“Oh! Yes. Sort of, among other more important things. Fear is not something I wish to purposefully inflict on others, especially the mortals who can’t keep their bladders in because of a good jumpscare. But it is something necessary. It’s a driving force, the emotion of fear is. It can either make or break a mortal.

“And that’s what I intend,” he mused. Whether the purr of his throat was for melancholy or malice, only time would tell. As far as his daughter knew, it could’ve easily been both. “To see if this squire will push through and stay true to his word or crumble under the horror of it all. Simple really.”

#nexo knights #lego nexo knights #nexo knights oc #storytime

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wesperbrekkered · 8 months

Note

hi!! wesper 25 and/or 50 for the kiss prompt🫶🏻🥰

Sorry this is so late! It took a lil while to muster up the motivation to finish this lol.

But anyway: 50. A kiss out of love

This is the most self indulgent thing ever oh my

____________________________________________

His Ma used to call them ‘bad head days.’

When his mind used to work itself up and out of control, buzzing far too quickly for his body to catch up to. It was like his senses were on overdrive, and every sound, every touch felt like nails being hammered into his skull. When it felt like ants were crawling just under his skin and he wanted nothing more then to rip it apart to relieve the itch.

So yeah, suffice to say, Jesper never liked these days.

He’d gotten better at predicting when they might come. It would start with the thoughts. Wylan would be slow to answer his question and Jesper would find himself questioning if his boyfriend hated him. Then he’d realise Marya hadn’t spoken to him in a few days for more then just a passing greeting, or that Kaz had ignored his last letter. He’d start questioning what was he even doing here, that he was only annoying these people by forcing his presence on them.

Then Wylan would put his cup down on the counter with a clatter and Jesper would wince. The birds would be slightly louder then normal, grating on the inside of his ears. The sound of the maid bustling around in the next room would have him resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears.

The light would start getting too bright, too sharp. His clothes too itchy, the molecules in the table too loud, too aware, too alive and demanding his attention.

And it would all start building and building until Jesper found himself teetering on the edge of an invisible precipice, hopelessly delicate. Hopeless to do anything but tip off the other side and crumple into a sobbing ball.

Jesper’s hands shook where he cradled his cup of coffee. The bitter scent that normally eased his mind made his stomach turn, and it was all he could do to not wrinkle his nose as it stabbed its way into his brain. He’d recognised the signs long before now, when the buzzing had started in his ears not long after he woke up. Tonight was supposed to be their night though. Since being voted to the Merchant Council they found that they barely had time to even look at each other most nights, so Wylan had cleared his schedule for just one night in their hectic week.

And Jesper was not going to ruin it all because his head was being silly.

“I was thinking,” Wylan began, fingers tapping the rim of his mug, “it’s been far too long since we invited Kaz round for dinner.”

Jesper nodded slowly, feeling like the world was spinning around too fast, “I thought I wasn’t allowed to let him in?”

“That’s just when he shows up unannounced, it’s different when we have to drag him round.”

Jesper hummed non committedly. He wanted desperately to curl up into himself and escape from the outside world for just a little bit.

The sound of a mug being placed down in the table caught his attention and he glanced up, in time to see Wylan watching him worriedly. “You’re very quiet,” he said with a frown, “everything alright Jes?”

Jesper forced a smile onto his face. Wylan had been working flat out these past few weeks, he didn’t need to worry about him, “I’m perfectly fine Wy, don’t worry.”

Wylan didn’t seem convinced, but after shooting Jesper another concerned look he began speaking again, telling him about the new Opera House opening up just on the outskirts of the Zelvar District. Jesper did try to listen, honestly! But he felt like everything around him was starting to strip itself of all meaning. It was like the world was turning up the dial, setting all his senses and nerves alight.

His gaze zeroed in on a whirl on the coffee table, desperately aware of the way his breaths were coming shorter and shorter.

Inhale.

The smell of his coffee wound its way through his nostrils and he wanted to throw up.

Exhale.

He could feel the seams of his pants scratching against his thighs.

Inhale.

The low candlelight was piercing his skull like a jagged knife.

Exhale.

“Jesper?”

Inhale.

He squeezed his eyes shut, even as he heard Wylan’s chair being pushed back.

His next exhale left his chest with a broken sob.

“Jes?”

Wylan’s hands were gently placed on the tops of his shoulders, not holding him or squeezing just... there. Jesper brought his own hands up to his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as his whole body started to shudder.

“You alright Jes?” Wylan asked softly, ever so slightly rubbing tiny circles on Jesper’s shoulders.

“I’m fine Wylan,” Jesper tried hopelessly, voice muffled by his hands.

Wylan scoffed lightly, stilling the movement of his hands. “I might not be as good at reading people as Kaz, but you don’t look very fine to me.”

Jesper snorted despite himself.

“Talk to me Jes, what’s up?”

Soft hands wrapped around Jesper’s wrists, gently prying them away from his face before he could gouge his own eyes out. Wylan’s own face filled his vision, a blur of smattered freckles and wide blue eyes and curly red hair that could never be tamed. He smiled softly to himself.

“It’s... its complicated,” he said lamely, dropping his gaze to focus on his purple trousers. The colour was slightly more muted then his usual clothes, and he was glad for it, it didn’t hurt his eyes at this moment. He could feel his mind whirring at a speed that was uncontrollable to even him, but from the moment Wylan’s soft voice had cut through the whirlwind of thoughts, they had slowed just a fraction.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he could think. Just a little bit.

Wylan’s smile was lopsided, his brows furrowed in worry, “try me?”

Taking a breath that was probably far deeper then the situation required, his knee bouncing up and down, Jesper tried. “My head is being a bit...” he blew out a breath, waving one hand in the air, “its a bit funky today.”

Wylan’s brows furrowed even more and Jesper huffed slightly, “Yeah I’m sorry that was a bad description. Its like, my head is always very fast and very loud, but sometimes it gets a bit too much. Like I’m doped up on Jurda and running from here to Belendt in the space of two bells. I don’t really know how to cope with it so...” he trailed off, looking off to the side, “I kind of just... shut down I guess.”

When he looked away from the wall again, Wylan was nodding in understand, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. “I see.” Jesper tried to smile back, but it was tight and wobbly and eventually he gave up, dropping his head forward and squeezing his eyes shut. Wylan was still holding Jesper’s wrists, and he gave them a small squeeze. “What helps?” he asked carefully.

Jesper thought about it for a moment. Usually what he did was curl up in a ball in his room, hiding under the blankets until he either fell asleep or the lack of sensation tricked his mind into slowing down again. “Dark,” he croaked, “and quiet. And you.”

Wylan pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of his wrist, where his pulse was fluttering wildly out of control. “Me?”

Jesper nodded, still with his eyes closed, still looking down. “You make me feel still. I feel safe around you, peaceful.” It was an understatement. Wylan was his tether, the one thing keeping his head out of the clouds, his mind under control. Wylan soothed the restless thrum of energy under his skin, cooled the raging fire within him, calmed his wild thoughts. Wylan was the ground beneath his feet, a solid weight for him to cling to, and the thought scared him quite a bit.

Wylan kissed his pulse again, thumb rubbing quiet circles against the bony jut of his wrist. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice gentle and low, like music spilling from behind a closed door. “We’ll go upstairs.”

Jesper nodded mutely, allowing Wylan to pull him to his feet. He kept his head lowered as they ascended the stairs, his eyes squinted to prevent as much light from piercing his fragile mind as possible.

The journey to their bedroom didn’t take long. It never did. It was the room closest to where the stairs opened up to the second floor. To everyone else, they said it was for ease of access, so that they could reach downstairs quicker in case of an emergency.

The real reason was because everytime their desire burned too hot to handle, Wylan always shoved him into the first bedroom he could find, and eventually they just stayed there.

And, well, Jesper wasn’t going to complain.

He barely registered Wylan plopping him down onto the bed until the rough, scraping noise of the curtains being pulled yanked him out of his own head. He winced.

“Sorry,” Wylan murmured gently, already making his way back to the bed, the room blissfully shrouded in darkness. Those blackout curtains were finally coming in handy.

Jesper lay back, pulling the covers up over his eyes for no reason other then for comfort, curling into a ball. His head was still pounding, his heart racing at a speed that used to scare him but he was used it now.

The bed dipped slightly when Wylan snuck in beside him. He hesitated for a moment, before snaking one arm around his waist, placing the palm of his hand over Jesper’s racing heart.

Jesper was already falling fast asleep before he registered the gentle brush of lips against his shoulder.

Jesper woke with a start far later that night. The room was still dark, the sky outside hidden behind the pair of blackout curtains. He blinked, slightly disoriented at the pitch black surrounding him. For a brief moment, he couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up in bed and when had it gotten dark?

Then Wylan shifted from behind him, arm tightening around his waist momentarily before relaxing again.

Jesper smiled, without really meaning to.

Right.

His head had slowed, a little bit foggy from tiredness and the aftermath, but he found he could think a lot clearer. He turned in Wylan’s arms, careful not to disturb him, and settled down again, burying his nose in Wylan’s unruly curls. Jesper let out a breath, relaxing fully into Wylan’s hold.

It had been a long, long time since someone had comforted him through his ‘bad head days’ and it threatened to terrify Jesper just how much he didn’t mind that Wylan was the one to be there. The time for being scared about new developments in his relationship wasn’t... gone... exactly. More that he was used to this feeling, to showing his vulnerability instead of hiding it behind cheap smiles and dirty jokes.

Jesper pressed a gentle, loving kiss to Wylan’s forehead, smiling against freckled skin. “I love you,” he murmured softly, snuggling further into Wylan’s protective grip.

It had been a long time since he’d ever felt so loved, and Jesper wasn’t so scared of it anymore. Not really.

Now, Jesper just loved Wylan, with all of his lying, thieving heart and complicated brain.

#jesper fahey #wesper fanfic #wesper #six of crows #crooked kingdom #send anons #writing prompts #wylan x jesper #six of crows jesper #jesper x wylan #jesper fahey fanfiction #wylan van eck fanfiction #wylan van eck #domestic fluff

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