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apute11as · 5 months

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Everything happens for a reason part 2 - Alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

Author note: Hey as requested this is part 2 to my alexia x reader pregnancy fic! Sorry if it’s not great but I’ve got ideas for further chapters that I’ll work on soon! Also please send ficlet requests if you’d like more consistent posts as they take significantly less time :)

Warnings⚠️: mentions of vomit, tiny bit of suggestive content, angst

Part 1- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/733631966220582912/everything-happens-for-a-reason-alexia-putellas

~~~~~~

As you strolled through security, your mind flickered back to the conversation you’d had with the mother in the plane. Unease overtook your body as you couldn’t help but wonder if she were right, but she couldn’t be, surely? Yes you and Alexia had been trying but you’d taken a test after the last round of IVF and that test read a strong negative.

Casting the thoughts out of your mind, you decided to shift your focus to the important upcoming tournament. Getting though baggage control was yet again, a thankfully unproblematic task and you’d found your driver with minimal effort. These were further signs that you’d simply been overthinking the spontaneous sickness from this morning which was mostly likely due to fatigue or anxiety.

Having had help from your driver with hauling your luggage into the back of the black car, you finally sat down in the back of vehicle and allowed yourself a breath of relief as the most difficult part of your journey had been achieved. This moment of peace finally allowed you to check your phone, where of course you were met with a text from Alexia that read:

“I hope you had a safe flight bebita, I left you a suprise in the top pocket of your bag, te quiero mucho amor ❤️xx”

Smiling down at your phone, you clicked her icon to reply with a simple

“just got in the cab, can’t wait to see it te quiero más bebé xx”

The journey from the airport to St George’s Park was relatively short and you’d surprisingly managed to occupy yourself well enough that not once did your mind shift to your impending potential pregnancy. Upon arrival, you thanked your driver, giving him a generous tip for his good service and further help in hauling your heavy bags from out of the car. Thinking, you had another moment of peace, you reached down to look at a message which was a short lived attempt as you felt yourself being almost plowed down by a body being thrown at you.

“HOLA CHICA” bellowed none other than Mary Earps, the English goalkeeper wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Hiya Mary” you sighed after getting over the initial shock of her entrance, recovering from the near dropping of your phone onto the concrete floor below.

“How’ve you been, we’ve missed you at home, how’s Spain treating you?” she exclaimed, bombarding you with questions.

“Let the girl breathe Mary” rung the voice of Millie bright, the defender taking a much more gentle approach to you welcome.

“hey Mill, I’ve missed you all so much it feels like ages since I’ve seen you all” you replied.

“Clearly you’ve found some superior company though” stated Leah Williamson who now entered the scene, greeting you with a hug.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, confused.

“well if the marks on your neck are anything to go by then I’m sure you’ve been just fine with Putellas” Leah jeered teasingly.

“oh shit I totally forgot, it’s been such a hectic morning I didn’t even realise” you stuttered although thinking back, your wife would surely have noticed your failure to cover up the less than subtle marks that littered your neck. Although, knowing Alexia she would have watched you walk out with pride, knowing that everyone would know you were hers just by taking one look at you. Typical la Reina.

“don’t get all stressed now, some of us a just single and miserable” the Chelsea defender gestured to Leah.

“haha very funny bright” retorted the younger blonde, and with that the pair of defenders wandered off inside.

“you said this morning has been hectic but I thought travel was smooth?” questioned Mary with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah yeah travel was perfect, it’s just other things.” you said with your expression visibly faltered.

“If your ever need to talk babes I’m here, it’s nothing to do with Putellas is it? Because i swear if that woman hurt you…”

“No no” you insisted, cutting her off. “Alexia has been perfect, just got a lot on my mind right now.” You assured the older woman.

“Alright hun, just don’t hesitate to reach out” she said with a smile.

“Thanks Mary I appreciate that so much” you replied.

After a further wave of reintroductions and also a couple of greetings towards the new players, you found yourself in a room with Sarina, the team and the assistant coaches.

“Right as usual of course, your rooms are to be assigned” stated the coach

“Leah and Keira”

“Georgia and Ella”

the list went on in a typical fashion.

and “Y/N and Alessia”

You let a small smile slip at the revelation, knowing that the blonde forward was easy to talk to and respected your quiet time, something you felt as though you needed more than ever, given your current stresses.

You were presented with a key card each and then made your way upstairs, having to haul your several bags into the elevator, a task that left you unusually out of breath. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Alessia as you hunched over, clutching your stomach.

“Are you ok Y/N?” the younger girl questioned.

“yeah thanks, I’m ok. I think it’s just a little discomfort from travel.” you replied with a weak expression.

Finally, the two of you reached the comfort of your shared room and unlocked the door swiftly. You offered Alessia the window bed as you knew that she much preferred it and felt slightly claustrophobic otherwise.

You both began unpacking your vast array of bags and unloading stuff into the wardrobes, when your mind shifted back to the text your wife had sent you earlier. You reached for your carry on bag and unzipped the pocket, to be met with the sight of your favourite Spanish chocolates with a small note that read:

“Para mi princesa. Un regalo casi tan dulce como tú. Te amo mucho mi corazon.”

You smiled softly, your wife had always expressed her love so beautifully through words, the terms of endearment making you tear up slightly.

“What’s that?” Alessia asked with curiosity.

“Just something Alexia got me to remind me of her.” you replied, wiping your eyes simultaneously. “They’re spanish chocolates” you continue “she knows they’re my favourite from our local chocolatería.”

“that’s so sweet” the younger girl replied with a smile.

“Yes it really is” you said, beginning to open the sweet treats but before you got a chance to offer some to Alessia, the smell hit your nostrils. Normally that would elicit a mouth watering response but this time you felt your stomach lurch in discomfort, similarly to the way it did this morning. You the found yourself bounding to the bathroom to throw up the small sandwich you’d eaten on your flight.

“Oh my god Y/N” exclaimed Alessia, worry evident in her tone. “I knew you looked pale earlier, you are sick!” she said holding your hair back and grimacing as another round of nausea had you further emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowel.

“Sorry Alessia you don’t have to stay for this.” you managed in between the dry heaving that had replaced your sickness.

“No god I don’t mind, should I go get a staff member though?” She questioned.

“No, no definitely not I think I know what it is it’s fine.” You assured her.

Though Alessia wasn’t convinced and made a mental note to ask you again after team bonding, which you insisted you were well enough to attend.

“I thought you said those were your favourite chocolates, why did they make you feel sick?” The blonde questioned curiously.

“I’m not sure maybe they’d gone off” you offered weakly.

The two of you finally made it downstairs to the team, albeit 10 minutes late as you changed and freshened up after your spell of sickness.

“Look what the cat dragged in” shouted Beth as she attempted to rugby tackle you to the floor but before she was successful, she was stopped forcefully by Alessia.

“Careful Beth she’s not feeling great” explained Alessia.

“It’s alright Less, I’m alright now” you assured the girl.

“Anyways now that you two have finally arrived, we can start the fifa play offs!” cheered Georgia

As the night progressed, your stomach settled but your anxiety levels only heightened as the reality of your situation truly began to settle in. You were shocked out of your thoughts by a soft hand on your shoulder, that belonged to your captain- Leah.

“Woah there jumpy” she said as you flinched at her touch. “I was just checking if you wanted a hot chocolate but is everything all right?” she questioned.

That did it, the tears that had been threatening to flow came free now. You ran off hurriedly to the bathroom, Leah watching in awe as to what had actually just happened.

“It’s alright I’ve got her.” Alessia assured a couple of the team members who had gathered at the commotion.

You were now balling your eyes out in the bathroom, as the thoughts of what the pregnancy would mean dawned upon you. Ordinarily when you’d planned the pregnancy, you wouldn’t be attending the World Cup, opting to sacrifice it for your wife who’d just come back from an injury and was 4 years older than you anyways. However, now here you were, ready to go to the tournament and were potentially pregnant. You heard the door swing open and were soon met with the concerned face of your roommate, knowing you now definitely had to share your concerns with her.

“What’s up Y/N, no “I’m fine” or any nonsense, you’re struggling with something let me help you.” said the blonde, sympathetically.

“I-I think I’m pregnant” you said for the first time out loud since you began questioning.

“That’s good surely? Wait you’d have to do ivf for that, unless it’s not Alexia’s baby oh my god, oh my god is it somebody else’s, that’d explain the tears…”

“No Alessia” you urged, cutting off her rambling. “It would be Alexia’s it’s just not quite gone to plan” you continued as Alessia stared at you with a confused face.

You the preceded to explain your conversation with the woman on the plane, the negative pregnancy test from earlier this month and yours and Alexia’s plans to start a family. Alessia listening intently and comforting you as you spoke.

“Maybe the best idea would be to get a test” Alessia stated “because for all you know you’re getting stressed over nothing.” She reasoned.

“Yeah yeah that’s true, I just didn’t have much time to get one between the airport.

“We can get one tomorrow at lunch, it’s late now anyways maybe you should call alexia and tell her what’s going on?”

“No no no I can’t call Alexia she can’t know” you urged.

“why not she might be able to help you see clearly” said Alessia

“No she’ll be on a flight over here to make sure I don’t play, I really want to play Alessia” you pleaded

“Ok then let’s tell the girls you don’t feel well so we’re going to bed early how’s that?” Asked the blonde

“Yeah that sounds good thank you Less it means so much that you care.” you thanked her

“Of course Y/N anytime” she smiled.

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #fcb femeni #espwnt #espwnt x reader #fcb femeni x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics

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lokisprettygirl · 3 months

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Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )

Read Chapter 1 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: Daemon tries to put the clues together to capture the barber killer. Amidst all the torture all you could think about is him.

Trigger Warning: Rape and torture, 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination, Cigarette consumption, some geographical errors

Note : I changed the name of the fic

“How do you know her?” Daemon asked the man sitting in front of him. Pierce Madej was the last man on your call history.

“We teach at the same school” Pierce told him, he was a tall man, with fluffy hair and hazel eyes, you certainly seemed to have a type. He knew he'd have to keep his personal feelings away from this case, any mistake and he'd be taken off the case since he knew one of the victims.

“And you were calling her at 2 am to discuss grades?” There was a snark in his voice as he questioned the visibly nervous man in front of him.

“No it was her birthday, and..uhhh-”

“And?” He raised his brow as Pierce stuttered on his words.

“Well she had finally agreed to go out on a date with me and we were making plans and now she's uhhh—”

His eyes teared up as he thought about you which made Daemon feel conflicted. Did you like this guy? If yes then did you feel anything more for him than just attraction?

“Did she say anything in regards to being stalked or followed? Anything that stood out in the past week or so?”

“Yeah..well last week she mentioned very casually that she thought a vehicle was following her but she didn't seem very nervous about it–”

“Always have been that way..her own safety wasn't really her top priority “ Daemon mumbled under his breath so Pierce stared at him awkwardly,

“You guys will find her right?” he asked Daemon but didn't get an answer in response. Daemon wanted nothing more than to find you but he had reached a dead end again, the killer he was dealing with was too clever.

“Did she happen to mention the type of car she thought was tailing her?”

“Blue Honda i think.. ..she said it seemed very old and rusty as if it hasn't been serviced in a long time”

“Thank you for your cooperation ..stay in the city for a few days” he nodded as Daemon dismissed him.

His day only got worse when he was informed that a woman named Rebecca Malone who lived in the Holywood area has been missing since last week, she didn't have many people in her life and was used to missing work for days before so nobody really cared about reporting it until now. A lock of her hair was found near her residential area, two abductions in a span of a week? That seemed bolder even for him. All of his previous three victims were found a month apart from each other.

“There has been hysteria going on .. beautiful women in their early thirties are cutting their hair short”

Jake said to him which made Daemon chuckle in response.

“Well that's a smart thing to do isn't it?”

Perhaps what you should have done as well.

**********

You opened your eyes and for once there was light in the room and you weren't on the concrete floor but you were on a bed of sorts, your hands were cuffed, they were cuffed. As the man wearing a robbers mask leaned over you, you closed your eyes and tried to disappear in your head again.

“Did you bring it officer” as soon as Daemon entered your bedroom he found you on the bed, you had a very sexy lingerie on and you seemed very much in the mood. You had been begging him to bring the handcuffs home from work for days ever since he had been promoted to the police officer post.

“You're a very naughty girl, you know that?” He asked you as he took his official jacket off, he looked so good in the uniform, so strong, so magnetic, you felt turned on by him every time you put your eyes on him. That's not how he saw himself but you did, he was the prettiest man you had ever known, inside out.

“Well I haven't exactly been following the law.. officer” he smirked as you said that, you lifted your fingers up to shove aside the hair that fell on his forehead but he grabbed your wrist and handcuffed you immediately.

“Ooooh” you let out an yelp as he attached the other cuff to the bed post

“You have the right to remain silent mam” he mumbled playfully to get into the roleplay but there was a mischievous smirk on your face.

“Mmmmhmm..but i didn't really ask for the cuffs to use it on myself…officer”

Eyes stung with tears as you came back to your reality, you could feel the cold air hit your skin as there were no clothes on your body anymore and you could feel him slathering the lotion all over your skin. Again.

“Mmmm i love your skin..it's so soft..you take care of them don't you” his voice gave you goosebumps, you had read about him in the news, you knew he didn't have any good intentions for you and you definitely knew that he intended to kill you at the end, in a very inhumane and brutal way. The last time you struggled against him, he had made you bruise up from head to toe so this time you stayed calm for your own sake.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why why why? You all ask the same question..I hate that you know” his voice came out all whiny, he took his clothes off but the mask stayed on his face, you couldn't see his face but you saw his eyes, hazel eyes, the little detail made you think of Daemon again but the man that was going to rape you wasn't the man you loved. He never would have hurt anyone like this.

“Is that your mother..that woman?” You asked him calmly and he started to laugh,

“Yeah my mother, i love her, do you like her y/n? Do you think she's nice? You have met her quite a few times i assume”

Quite a few times? You had met her twice while she came and sang you a creepy lullaby before she pricked a needle inside you to keep you dazed and confused.

“Not really”

His eyes flickered as you said that, a scream escaped your lips as he entered you with no warning, you were dry as you could be so the penetration really did hurt.

You wanted to hurl, you closed your eyes as he raped you until he was done with his release, you didn't even know how many days it has been but you had been through this two times already and you weren't sure how long he was planning to keep you. Once he was done he used a disinfectant to wipe you down from deep within, he didn't want to leave a single strain of his DNA on you,

“Who's the other girl ..I hear her” you mumbled between your tears so he chuckled,

“You do take it alot better than her..she screams and screams, might as well have to cut her tongue out” he gave you a smile that gave you chills “Or i send her in here..you could be besties with each other, do what girls do huh..Ask her to be quiet when I'm fucking her..that if she's willing to keep her tongue”

He untied your hands and picked up a long dress he had brought with him and dressed you up, it seemed old, perhaps it belonged to his psychopath mother. Then he dragged you towards the corner of the room to chain you up like an animal again.

After that he was gone, the lights went out as soon as he had left the room and you were forced to sleep on the cold hard floor again, your thoughts kept drifting towards Daemon, oh what you'd have done in the moment to find yourself into the warm and safe bed and in his arms.

You felt the weight on the other side of the bed so you turned around to look, he was finally home, ever since he was promoted he didn't really have much time on his hands and you missed him badly.

“Hey there pretty boy” he turned his head and gave you a smile, he seemed exhausted and you could smell the sweet scent of the body wash he had used in the shower.

“I thought you were asleep” he slipped under the duvet and got on top of you to kiss you sweetly,

“I was..but you woke me up”

“Ouch..sorry” you smiled as he said that

“Mmmm you're worth losing sleep for”

“Fuck I'm exhausted my love ..”

“I know.. sweetheart..you want to sleep?” your voice was a melody, melting in his ears like a symphony.

“I want to be inside you..i want to feel you all around me love”

You bit on your lower lip as he said that

“Mmhhmm?” You pulled his cock out of his trousers while he slipped your panties down from under your silk night dress, he moaned in your ears as you rubbed his length over your slit, coating the tip of his cock in your wetness.

He slipped inside slowly until every inch of his cock was stilled deep into you,

“Mmmm ohhh i have missed you my pretty baby ..”

“I love you so much..don't ever leave me” he whispered in your ear as his hips moved in and out of you slowly. His cock was hard and pulsing inside you but his demeanor was always gentle, he was so soft with you, not that you didn't enjoy it when he was rough but more often than not he was so delicate in bed with you, treating you like a queen and you loved that about him, you loved this man who seemed so tall, scruffy and intimidating but deep down was just a boy who needed love and plenty of it.

His movement halted slowly and then it stopped, and that's when you knew he had fallen asleep so you wrapped your arms around his neck which woke him up and he started moving again

“Hey stop ..you can sleep baby i promise..it's okay..it's okay” you cooed softly so he placed his head between the crook of your neck,

“Let me stay in please” his voice was pleading and it made you feel warm in every possible way.

“I'd love that”

You stepped out of your daydreaming as you heard the cries of the woman, she was probably in the room next to you. And then she screamed, as loud as she could. You pressed your hands up to your ears to ignore her wailing but it was in vain, you could hear everything that he was doing to her.

***********

“Mary I need a favor” Daemon said on the phone as he stepped out for his smoke break,

“I am at work Dae, you'll have to wait until the night” she flirted with him and perhaps he would have indulged her if it wasn't for the fear he was living in all the time. Fear of losing you. Fear of never being able to see you again.

Mary was a crime journalist in the Belfast news, he had met her a few months ago because they were working on a case together. One night she had invited him to her place to discuss the case but they ended up having drinks and sex instead. However right from the start he was clear to her about what he wanted, he didn't want a relationship again with anyone else, it wasn't for him, it wasn't going to work like it didn't work with you so their arrangement stayed sexual.

“Mary he has her..I need to find him..i can't –” he took a deep breath in to calm his nerves.

“What do you want me to do? This guy is like a ghost, all the suspects you had your eyes on are not him..he has no record, he leaves nothing behind”

“Blue Honda ..one of y/n’ s friend slash colleague told us that a week ago she was talking about a blue honda following her..it's weird..none of his victims ever mentioned that”

“Yeah because they're dead Daemon “

“But if that was the case at least one of them would have said something to their friends or family prior to the abduction.. none of them said anything about being stalked”

“Alright..what are you thinking then”

“I need to find that vehicle..anyhow”

As soon as he hung up the phone it rang again and it was his mother this time. Again.

“What?” He snapped at her as soon as he picked up.

“That's not how you greet your mother” he chuckled bitterly as he heard the response.

“Well I'm busy right now, do you need something?”

He asked her in a nonchalant manner and then she told him everything she needed from him. When he got inside he was told that your mother was waiting to see him. He wasn't in the mood to see mothers today.

“Daemon” she immediately ran towards him and hugged him, everyone around him stared at him so he pulled the weeping woman away from him and took her to his desk.

She was inconsolable which was given considering the situation. She begged him to find you before it would be too late, the thought of her daughter succumbing to the same fate as those other victims kept her up all night long. She didn't come here to see him as the detective who was handling the case but as the mother of the daughter who had been with him for five years. That was five years of birthdays and festivities that he had spent with you and your family.

She still considered him her family.

Around 10 at night when he stepped out of the precinct the press from several publications cornered him and probed him for information but he didn't have anything to tell them and even if he did he wasn't going to share it with them.

His mum had invited him to dinner and he needed to buy things for her before he could go see her so he drove towards the nearest Tesco. On the way out of the store a man walked past and bumped into his shoulder with an unwanted amount of force which resulted in him dropping the groceries bags.

“Watch out you rascal” he yelled at the man but the man didn't even look back at him, he just kept walking away. Daemon went down to pick up the bags and that's when he noticed the car that pulled out of the parking lot. Blue honda..rusty and unkempt..

He immediately ran towards the vehicle to get a better look but it was too late and he had already sped away, he didn't give up though, he got inside his car and chased the car but he wasn't able to keep up with it. The frustration he felt in that moment was indescribable.

“God dammit” he punched his fist into the steering wheel ..his instincts screamed at him that perhaps he had found the lead that he was looking for.

He went back to the store and looked for the CCTV footage but the killer had his hood up and a mask on his face, even his eyes were covered by glasses. He enquired about his purchase list and all he had bought was a woman's body lotion and a pack of cigarettes. Same ones he got for himself. The cashier wasn't alarmed by that because it was just one bottle. He was clever. Very clever.

He got the footage taken and sent it out for BOLO immediately before he went to his mother's.

She was at the door to hug him and as always he was cold in his response, he forgave her but he didn't forget what she had put him through all his life.

“Oh my babyy what did you do to yourself?” She asked him as she looked at his bruised knuckles but he just shrugged in response and stepped away from her to keep the groceries down on the kitchen table.

“I got everything you asked for..I'm gonna go now”

“No stay for dinner.. please..we will watch a movie”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she said that but he obliged. After his father passed she was all he had in the name of family and then he met you. His scrappy girl, there had been a time in those five years where he took you for granted because he thought you'd always be there with him, maybe that's the mistake he shouldn't have made.

It cost him you.

*********

You cowered in the corner as the door opened again, the psychotic mama entered and she sang you a lullaby like she had done from the past two days.

“You need to stop him, he's your son, how could you let him do this to innocent people?”

You asked her so she gave you a sinister laugh and then she left, about an hour later the man entered with a tray of food and a bottle of water.

“Eat and hydrate, I need you to stay hydrated” he grabbed your chin and shoved a water bottle into your mouth so you had no choice but to drink.

“Daemon Targaryen..he's your lover isn't he?” Your eyes widened and then welled up at the mention of his name “Marlboro reds…this is what he got..was keeping an eye on him” he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket to light one up. In a weird strange way the smell made you feel comforted. You closed your eyes and pretended that he was there with you.

“Can I get one?” You asked him so he started laughing in your face while he blew the smoke.

“It's not good for that perfect little skin you got” Your breath shuddered again as he reminded you what he was planning to do to you.

“What is it with you huh? Mommy issues?” your voice was filled with anger and disdain as you spat at him.

“Don't shrink me you fucking bitch” he brought the burning top of the cigarette right near your eyeball but instead of squeezing them shut you just stared right at it.

This couldn't have been your reality right? Once he was done smoking he made you stand up and took your clothes off before he placed you on your stomach against the wall, he doused you in a bucket of water and he scrubbed every inch of your skin with soap.

After drying your skin he did his routine, he covered you in lotion and then he raped you, you didn't scream ofcourse but she did scream.. again. The other woman he had been torturing, she screamed like you thought you'd have, that's the kind of person you had always been, that's why Daemon called you his scrappy girl.

Then where was the fight in you? Why had you given up so easily? You got up from the floor and looked around but the room offered you nothing but a bed that was out of your reach, you couldn't have done anything even if you tried.

********

“I knew you'd come” Mary smirked as she opened the door to a slightly tipsy Daemon.

“I'm not here to fuck..”

“Sure” she crossed her arms so he glared at her,

“I think he bumped into me on purpose”

“What?” She looked at him shocked as he said that.

“That fucking wretched maniac, he bumped into me on purpose, he's taunting me”

“Hang on Daemon..how do you know it was him?”

“I just know..it's an instinct, it's always been with me, how do you think i went from a traffic police to a homicide detective in seven years?” she gave him a smile as he said that. He surely was something, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him and she also couldn't deny the genius that he was in his field.

“What did he look like?” She questioned him as she passed him a glass of wine.

“Like a man, he's tall..he didn't turn around when I hollered at him..but I saw the Blue Honda..old and rusty”

“That doesn't mean he's the killer Daemon..don't get your hopes up”

“Geee thanks for the support I guess”

She placed her drink down on the table as stepped closer to him.

“You need to dial down on the emotions Daemon..you know you can't get your emotions involved –”

“I know that” he looked at her and they had a moment of silence before she leaned into him to kiss him, he was distraught and exhausted and a woman's touch felt nice so he kissed her back but then he thought of you, thought of you being scared and all alone, probably tied and hurt and whatever sexual frustration he felt was gone instantly.

“I can't..I just can't..not today”

“And why is that?”

“Don't ask me dumb questions darling”

“Isn't she the one that did a number on you?”

“Your point?” He glared at her as he pulled her way from him, he did despise you at times for leaving him the way that you did but he didn't hate you, he could never.

He went home that night and looked at every report, every evidence they had found on the victims and the site of the abduction, he surely was missing something but he didn't know what.

And suddenly it clicked. First victim Shonda beau was from Malone, Second victim Nyra Michals was from Ormeau, Third victim Dennis lived in The Holyland, Rebecca was taken from Holywood and finally you Edenderry

Perhaps he was reaching in his assumption but the initials of each area where he found his victims from made an incomplete word --

“Mothe-”

He knew where he'd find the killer next.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@daddylokisqueen @iamavailablesstuff @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @shuichiakainx @avalyaaa @ajthefujoshi @tatertati-fangirl @urmomsgirlfriend1

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #non canon au #modern day au #modern daemon targaryen #tw kidnapping #tw rape #dark fic

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tieronecrush · 8 months

Text

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter five: hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 6.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! got my life together and got the chapter done for y'all <333 also thank you for always validating me and loving these two as much as me <3 you are stuck beta-reading for me forever hehe @northernbluess

“Christ, Bebita, that one is as good as the last one and the one before that and the one before that. I can’t pick, you look too damn good in all of ‘em.” Javier traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, reaching a hand up to swipe his thumb at the corner of his open mouth and sniffling on an inhale. Expansive, strong torso and broad, steady shoulders trail down to his legs that stretch out from the small square stool in the corner of the dressing room you’ve been occupying for at least twenty minutes.

His gentle toffee eyes study your form in the earthy olive-toned cocktail dress; the silky material hugs your curves while you twist in view of the mirror, the hemline hitting mid-calf and a halter top covering your chest modestly while leaving your shoulders and back bare. There’s delicate glass beading embroidered into floral and leafy patterns along the bodice, reflecting the lights. You can imagine the way it will look in the low light, swanky library party with enough champagne passed around for all of the academics to let loose. It’s a bit of a stretch for appropriate for the department event, but with the burning of Javier’s eyes into your skin, you know that this one is doing something a bit more than the last five dresses. Sighing with resignation, you drop your hands from where they are mapping over the intricate beading. Your bottom lip releases from between your teeth and you take a step closer to Javi, chuckling softly when his hands involuntarily reach for your hips to pull you between his open legs.

“That isn’t helpful feedback, Javier. I need some concrete decisions to be made. You’re in charge of my dress unless you can’t handle it cause then I’ll—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This one, I choose this one,” he muffles his voice when he leans forward to press kisses against the skin of your forearms, toying with your fingers and intertwining them with his when his large hands find your smaller ones. “You’re beautiful in everythin’, Bebita, any of these dresses, or even a paper bag, and you’re fucking stunning. But I can tell you liked this one most.”

Javier lifts his head to meet your eyes, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile — satisfied, content, proud that he knows you so well to be able to read you like that.

It’s simultaneously making your heart beat faster, your stomach drops to the floor, and your palms grow sweaty. He’s so much more to you, but you’re too cowardly to admit it to him. Javier is…everything you’ve hoped for, but has come at the worst time.

It’s a job. That’s all. He has to be, or else you’re screwed if you say ‘fuck it’ and drop all of your other clients and give Javier your heart. There’s no way that you could continue living in your apartment and attending school; you would probably have to go back to working full-time until you could break your lease and find somewhere cheaper or move home and transfer your credits.

“Y’alright there, angel? Lookin’ a little flushed.” Javier’s brows knit with concern until you brush them away, thumb lightly rubbing the fold in his skin to relax it.

“M’alright, Javi. Think it’s time to quit the try-on portion of the day.” Hands reach back to find the zipper, Javier jumps up quickly and walks you back a few inches to have the room to slip behind you and take over the task.

“Guess it’s the take-off portion? Lemme do it for you, gonna need the practice of gettin’ this off when I take you home Friday night.” Through the reflection, he catches your eye and smirks boyishly, dragging the zipper down your lower back and folding forward to press ghosting kisses to your smooth skin. “Mm, so soft, angel. Smell so sweet.”

His voice drops lower, rasp biting out on the upticks of his speaking, “D’you know what watchin’ you in all these pretty dresses has done to me?”

A sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head languidly, rolling it on your shoulders, “No…Wh-what did it do?”

Without a word, Javier unclasps the halter of your dress, dropping the material to fall to your ankles. In the midst of you stepping out of the circle of fabric, he grips your hips tightly and tugs you back to his chest. Then you feel it, when your back arches and your lower half presses backward, the bulge of his hard cock prodding into the swell of your ass.

“Javi—”

“Nuh uh, Bebita. No Javi.” His lips are at the pressure point under your ear, your eyes fluttering closed while one hand snakes back to tangle into his hair. Grinding back against him, you lick your lips and whimper when a hand of his reaches around your front and slips between your legs to brush your clit.

“Papí…Fuck, papí…Need you.”

“Manners, Bebita. Or else you’re just gonna get on your knees and take care of me. Ask nicely and I’ll help both of us.”

“Please, papí, may I please have it?”

“Have what, angel?”

“Your c—cock,” you whimper out, the tail of the word trembling out when Javier’s fingers hook under the center of your panties and tease at your dripping entrance.

“There’s my good girl. How could I say no to you bein’ so sweet for me? Think I need to get you ready before I give you my cock, though, Bebita.”

With a sigh, your mouth opens and you reach one hand to grip Javi’s forearm wrapped around you, your other arm stretching out to press your palm against the full length mirror. A dark chuckle slips out of Javi, two thick fingers pushing into your tight walls. In an immediate reaction, a whimper squeezes out of your throat in a yelp. Knuckle deep in your cunt, Javi hooks his fingers to nudge at the spongy spot, extra sensitive. The sensation buckles your knees, Javi catching you with his thigh between yours and his arm flexing tighter around you, tugging you back up while his hand moves faster. Your teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down to silence the noises threatening to expose your activity.

His lips line up against the shell of your ear, brushing lightly against your skin and sending goosebumps across your neck and shoulders, “Bet you’re dying to give me those little noises of yours, angel. How ‘bout just one ‘papí’, Bebita? Jus’ one for me, and I’ll let you come.”

The heel of Javier’s hand rubs the cotton fabric of your panties against your clit, the friction feeling delicious and sending tingles across your nerves to curl your toes. Your head shakes back and forth subtly, enough to be perceptable to the man behind you. The speed of his fingers slows to a stop, pulling out to sit shallowly inside of you without leaving completely. Metallic taste hits your tongue, part of your lip broken from how hard you’ve been biting it to keep everything inside.

“Is that a no, angel? Gonna say no to my lil request?” He questions you, a rough squeeze grips one of your ass cheeks, opening your eyes to meet Javi’s in the reflection, “Answer me.”

An audible swallow slides down your throat before you open your mouth again, bottom lip swollen with it’s split, “I don’t wanna get caught, Javi—”

The last syllable raises in pitch when he sinks his fingers into you fully, a third added effortlessly. They still inside of you, stretching you divinely, but there’s a craving, a fullness that feels like a burning need in the pit of your stomach. You see the game he’s playing, the upper hand he loves to have with you that you give away willingly. With a bend of his fingers, that same spot is getting its desired attention and sending your logic spiraling.

Fuck it. Javier can get an old sheriff buddy to bail you both out if you get arrested.

Reaching one arm behind you, your left still pressed against the mirror for support, your fingers tangle into his hair and tug his head over your shoulder more. Javier rolls a low groan from his throat, the sound ringing in your ear. You turn your head to face him, nose nudging against his while fingers continue to work you up, teetering you on the edge. Open mouths pass warm breaths back and forth, Javier chasing your lips and skin with his, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

The tightness around his fingers drives his circulation below the waist, straining against the fabric of his slacks. Grinding against your ass as he fucks you with his hand, all he has on his mind is feeling you convulse under his touch, driven so far over that you can’t stand up.

His teeth scrape against the skin at your jaw, a smirk growing subtly on your face — it’s his telltale sign of the height of his desperation.

Leaning your head back further, your lips are much closer to his ear; when the speed of his fingers increases, your own grip his hair tighter and moan, the sound soft and airy but coated in lust.

It’s a spark in his mind, sliding his left hand resting on your right hip across your lower stomach and down your thigh, grabbing it from around the inside and lifting it up. The position change allows his fingers to reach deeper, your head pressing hard back into his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes—“ The noises you want to make die in your throat, mouth hanging open as Javi chuckles darkly against your cheek.

“Say it, baby, tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you really want. Gonna fuck you full of me, Bebita. Isn’t that what you’re aching for?” His words hold you at the edge, toes curled against the wooden floor of the fitting room while your head rolls to the side against him.

Recovering from your dry mouth, you conjure up the first thoughts that pop into your head, the image of him fucking you and the closeness of your release projecting the words from your chest, “Papí, papí — oh my god! Always know how to make me feel so, so good, Papí…God, even your fingers make me f-feel so full. M’gonna—fuck, gonna come, please.”

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Mi zorrita buena, acaba para mí. Come for me, Bebita.”

Your wall tightens around his three thick fingers, the sound of you moaning catching in your throat as you attempt to hold back. It comes out in a higher pitch, struggling but heard by Javier whose head is still on your shoulder. He’s mumbling to you, kissing the corner of your jaw while his hand comes to a slow stop to guide you through your orgasm. When he pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while you look behind at him.

A satisfied smirk takes the place of his hand when he pulls them out with a pop, reaching out for you and pulling you back against his chest with a stumble. A delicate kiss is pressed to your bare skin at your back, a shiver running down your spine while one of Javi’s hands finds the swell of your ass and squeezes.

“You want my cock now, Bebita? Bet you do. Want everyone in this fucking store to know you’re mine, right? Want them to hear those sounds that you just can’t hold back, want them to hear you calling me papí, don’t you?” Your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open as any sort of response flees your mind. Javier stands up straight behind you, quietly fumbling with his belt, the sounds of metal piquing your attention. His button and the drag of his zipper follow shortly, the soft noises of him barely undressing stirring up your stomach.

Between your legs, you feel a rush of arousal when his sigh hits your ears, the same one he always makes when you take his cock out of his pants. Saliva coats your mouth in eager awaiting, shallow breaths attempting to fill your lungs.

Javier surveys you, licking his lips as his hand passes down your spine, gently pressing your forward until both arms catch your weight against the mirror. He traces the new arch in your back before his hand finds your panties, not bothering to take them off again, but pausing for a split second to admire the wet spot you made. His mouth hangs open slightly, bated breath heightening the temperature of the small room. The sight of your cunt dripping for him dries his mouth out, eager to have another taste, but ultimately prioritizing his needs and the higher risk of being caught the more time passes.

Lining his head up with your entrance, he thrusts in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you. He sighs deeply while reaching for one of your shoulders for leverage, gripping it with his fingers as he starts a shallow thrust.

Meeting your eyes through the reflection, he chokes out a hushed warning, “Fuck, Bebita, m’not gonna last long. Feel too fucking good.”

You moan softly in response, the mirror fogging up with the puff of hot air that leaves your mouth. Javier turns his attention to where you’re connected, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him easily. When his eyes flick back to your face, your own are closed as you make muffled, sweet sounds of pleasure.

“Open up, angel, want you to look at yourself gettin’ fucked. Look in the mirror, Bebita, and see how pretty you look taking my cock, how much you love fucking in public for everyone to hear.” Javier words have you reaching for a grip against the flat surface of the mirror, nodding with a whine as he gives you slightly deeper thrusts. “Tell me how much you love it, Bebita.”

“Fucking lov-love when you give me your cock, Papí. Love it even more knowin’ someone can hear us, that they’re gonna know m’all yours,” you watch Javi’s face contort with attempted restraint, nodding as one hand drifts to grab at your tits, his strong hold pulling you to stand with your back flush to his chest.

The next few thrusts are audible with how hard he fucks into you, mumbles of Spanish and English spoken into your ear, “Una chica tan sucia. Eres perfecto para mí…(Such a dirty girl. You’re perfect for me…) Wanna jus’ take care of you, Bebita — my babygirl. You’re a good girl, angel. So fucking good. Te sientes bien, como un nuevo comienzo. Mi nuevo comienzo. (You feel good, like a fresh start. My fresh start.) S’like you’re my angel, Bebita. Mine.”

At the last word uttered, Javier moans into your ear, the sound clipping into a hiss as his warm spend fills you up. Your chest is heaving from the exertion of it all, skin burning with those ramblings from Javier.

He’s made it clear how he feels, short of three words.

At the thought, a sharp pain in your chest seizes your lungs, choking out a cough while Javi pulls out of you and fixes your panties. A hand pets your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head from behind.

“You alright, Bebita? M’sorry I didn’t last long there. All this shopping got me worked up, I guess. You feel good though? Satisfied, mi Bebita?” He accepts the answer of your nod and softened smile through the mirror, planting one more kiss on your cheek before he unravels from you and gets fully dressed again. “I’ll take the dress up front to pay while you get dressed, okay angel? Then we can go wherever else you wanna go.”

Taking in his affectionate expression, softened brown eyes and one side of his mouth quirked up in a Javi smile, you feel the same pain in your chest, the words of a confession tingling the tip of your tongue. Instead you swallow it back and match his smile, taking the two steps over to him and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“So shoes next then?” Javi’s nose nudges against yours before his head tilts back with a slightly defeated laugh.

“Anything you want, Bebita. Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

This time you physically bite your tongue to hold back, wrapping him up in a fleeting, squeezing hug.

“Thank you, Javi.”

Hearing yourself back, you can’t tell if it was meant as permission to let yourself fall, those three words serving as placeholders, or if it was a last ditch effort to sever your feelings for him.

Either way, you still knew you were in trouble.

The flute in your hand is cool to the touch when you pick it up from the entry table in the old university church that was converted into an events space. The gothic details of its once lived purpose catch your attention as you look around, dark, carved wooden fixtures and slate gray stone walls. The carpet is dated, an aged beige that spans most of the room that is filled with people from across the Psychology and Sociology department; large leaded windows line the interior, framed by heavy curtains in burnt orange.

There’s a bar at either end of the room, a handful of high top cocktail tables littered around. Your eyes continue to scan, this time focusing on all of the attendees. Peers, former and current professors, administration, and donors all mingle with each other — there’s a few familiar faces that you send a smile to, continuing your exploration for the one face you’re actually looking for.

Your nerves are tingling like the bubbles popping in your glass, bringing the fragile rim up to your lips for a long sip. Relaxing your shoulders, the first drink of alcohol sitting warm in your stomach. Before you put on a brave face and step forward to go mill about, a low rasp from close behind catches your attention.

“I’ve got some pretty taste in dresses, huh Bebita?”

Javier’s voice sends goosebumps down your spine and across your shoulders; you fight a smile, the corners of your lips turning up slightly as he steps up beside you. After eyeing the glass of whiskey in his hand, your stare grazes along his body.

He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white button down underneath his open blazer. Your smile grows when you see his olive tie, patterned with stitch-thin white pinstripes. Immediately, your eyes flick up to his face, a knowing smirk and a wink shot your way.

“Nice to see you, Professor Peña,” you say courteously, bringing your glass up to your lips for another sip.

“Having a nice night so far?” he counters, turning his body to face you, closing you off to the rest of the room and filling your view with only his frame. “Lookin’ beautiful tonight, angel. All this for chatting shit with professors.”

“I wear a lot less to chat shit with one of my professors.” You send him back a wink, smirk growing as you hold it back while he laughs and sip at your drink.

“Got me there. But we both know m’not just one of your professors, Bebita.” His fingers grip at his glass of whiskey tighter, lifting it to his mouth before he rasps out, only loud enough for you to hear. “Can’t wait to get you home, gonna rip that fucking dress off of you.”

The words send a rush of warmth down your body, clenching your thighs together where you stand. Javi’s hand grazes your side as he lifts his drink to yours, clicking them together.

“Cheers, Bebita. Gonna be a long night not bein’ able to have my hands on you, but jus’ want you to know I won’t be thinking about anything other than you.” The heat spreads to the back of your neck, your own hand reaching out to brush your fingers against his in a fleeting touch.

“You better go mingle, angel. Go let everyone know that you’re the smartest person in the room,” he whispers to you with a lopsided grin, moving to stand at your side once again.

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, swatting a hand at his affection, the smile you’ve been fighting finally lighting up your eyes.

“See you later, Javi. Meet at your truck later?”

“I’ll be there for you, Bebita.”

The room’s temperature has to have risen a few degrees from all the hot air that these academic stuck-ups have been blowing all night. It’s all bullshit, what he finds himself listening to — no one has any experience in the field like he has, most of them lawyers who barely see the inside of a courtroom these days.

As he takes a sip of his second whiskey of the night, his eyes find you across the room. Standing at a table with a small group around it, your back is to him with your face cheated to the side so he can make out your profile. Drinking you in, he notices the body language you’re displaying. Leaning onto the table toward the man next to you, curling yourself in to make yourself smaller, meeker. Your eyelashes are batting, slow blinks that he pictures you doing when he’s between your legs, the image in his mind and the thought of you doing that for someone else kindling a flame of jealousy inside of him.

He studies you two having a conversation, clenching his jaw tighter with every laugh and beaming smile you give to the man.

The guy next to you is dressed similarly to Javier, a navy suit with crisp white shirt, but no tie around his neck — he’s one of those. Must be one of the rich donors based on the crispness of his suit, the starched button-up giving Javier the clue that he regularly gets them serviced at the dry cleaners. He’s clearly older than Javier, gray hair speckled with whites and a few more lines across his face than what Javier has, despite the extreme stress of the last near decade of his life.

You must be keeping him young.

His eyes stay glued to the two of you, the kindling ashes catching into hotter flames when your hand rests on the man’s bicep. This scumbag’s own hand slips around your back, trailing down to the hem that sits in the middle of your back. The twitch of his fingers moving further south propels Javier into action, excusing himself from the small circle he’s standing in to make his way over to you.

He controls his speed, wanting to rush over and clock the man in the face for touching you, for taking advantage of you being a student at the mercy of his generosity.

Instead, he clenches his fist and downs the last of his alcohol, slamming the glass onto a table that he passes by in his path to you.

Saddling up behind the two of you, he smacks on his best charming smile as he clears his throat to interrupt. The man’s hand drops from you, and yours from him, both stepping backward from each other and facing his interruption.

“Evening,” he begins, using your name as he greets you. In your eyes, he can see the widening of them, as if you’re surprised — no, as if you’ve been caught?

Caught for what?

He presses on, desperate to get you away from this creep and into some place where he can hold you. Somewhere private, alone, secluded for the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, my name’s Javier Peña. Professor in the Sociology department.” Javier reaches out his right hand to the man, his left flicking his open jacket back and resting on his hip as he pops his leg out.

The man shakes his hand as his eyebrows raise, nodding, “Mark Shepherd. It’s great to meet you, Professor Peña. Or is it still Agent?” Mark attempts a light jest, laughing until he sees Javier isn’t.

“Professor’s just fine. Turned in my badge when I retired.” A look over at you and he can see guilt all over your face.

Guilt.

Flirty body language.

Laughing at jokes that couldn’t have been funny — this man is as dry as the desert.

You’re fucking him.

“How’re liking the university so far? Enjoying the new building? Hopefully my donation was large enough to get you your own office — I was talking to Dean Banks just a few minutes ago and he brought up how you’re the Big Man on Campus…”

Javier tunes out the rest of what Mark is saying, a full blossoming of his temper boiling him from the inside. He keeps his eyes on you, your own avoiding him while you look around the room.

Why did you lie to him? This whole time he was telling you that it’s only you for him; how could you sit there and hear that and feel all the devotion he has for you — all of the care he’s given you, and not tell him the truth?

He thought it was only him. That you were his, that there was something more growing out of this. He was in so deep, he was starting to forget the circumstances that brought you two together, starting to ignore the balance changes in his account monthly.

Fuck, he was wrong about you.

Interrupting Mark, Javier turns back to him with the same friendly smile, telling him you’re his student in one of his courses, “I’m so sorry, buddy, but do you think I could steal her away for a few minutes? There’s someone I wanted her to meet that I mentioned in a lecture last week.”

Your face contorts with confusion as Mark gestures for the two of you to head off, Javier leading you from behind to weave in and out of the groups in the room all the way to an exit into the corridor. When the doors shut behind him, he takes one look at you before he storms off in the direction of the doors to the small patio attached to the building.

“Fuck me. This is not how I wanted this night to go...” you mumble to yourself, feeling your emotion catch in your throat — a similar feeling to being caught in your mess of lies and omitted information only moments ago.

You were caught out by the last person you wanted to find out that way — the one person who’s feelings you would work to protect everyday, which is why you lied in the first place.

Craving his touch, his arms wrapping you in his strong, solid embrace, you follow after him, hope beating in your chest as you formulate the best possible explanation of it all.

Outside, the winter is biting into the weather, a chill breeze blowing the tendrils of Javier’s hair up while he fishes a cigarette from the box in his inside jacket pocket. The same wind is blowing out the flame of his lighter as he attempts to light the small vice in his mouth that will allow him a moment of peace, a moment to think.

“Goddammit,” Javier curses under his breath as he struggles to click his lighter on, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, kicking his shoes against the brick when he hears the creak of the heavy door. Turning over his shoulder, he’s met with the view of you, purse hanging over one shoulder and heels clicking slowly as you approach him.

Without a word, you reach into your purse at your side, fishing out an aged silver Zippo lighter. Your arm outstretched, lifting it to pass it over to him. He takes it from you, your fingers brushing with the lick of a flame. Between his fingers, he can make out faded engravings in the shape of angel wings. His thumb runs over the design, chest constricting with pain before he flicks the lighter open and holds the flame to the end of his cigarette. A long drag relaxes that pain, attempting and failing at calming his still racing heartbeat.

“Javier, I can explain—” you start, but he lifts his hand with the ashing smoke in it, shaking his head as he blows the fumes away from you.

“You don’t have to. I fully understand that while I’ve been completely focused, devoted, loyal to you, you’ve been off with another man. And couldn’t even have the balls to tell me. Every time I asked you out, and you said you were busy, was it him?” He paces for a few strides before leaning against the brick barrier of the stone patio, eyes boring into yours.

“No. No it wasn’t. Sometimes I really was just busy, with my friends or with school. But yeah, I can’t lie now and say that there weren’t times I made up an excuse or avoided telling you a reason I couldn’t see you…” Your weight shifts on your feet, the points of your stiletto heels scraping against the slate. “There—there’s a couple others besides him.”

Javier’s eyes widen, a crackling inhale of his cigarette pulling smoke into his lungs before he speaks again, “A couple? How many other people are you seeing?”

His voice has a sharp edge to it, patience wearing thin while jealousy and embarrassment root in his stomach. Your face cringes at the harshness of him speaking, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing hard.

“I have three clients besides you. Most of them have been for a few months longer than when I started seeing you…” Your throat clears and your shoulders roll forward, shrinking your usual confidence around him. “I thought you would have…I don’t know I thought you would have known what this was like for me. It’s my job, Javi. With those other guys, it’s still just my job and when I see them, it genuinely feels like work. But—”

He cuts you off again, kicking off the wall and starting his pacing again. “But what, angel? You just told me everything I needed to know. I’m a job to you, just work. That’s fine, we can draw that line here and now. I won’t do anything more for you unless you ask, treat me like everyone else. But forgive me for thinking there was something else there with us.”

Venom in his words hits you with a punch to your gut, this side of Javier one you haven’t been privy to. He’s cold where he normally holds his warmth toward you — his eyes, his dimple, the flex of his arms when he holds you, withdrawn from his normal attachment to you, always a hand kept on you when you’re together and a tab kept on you when you’re apart, stiff where he’s normally malleable, forming to your opposite, complimenting you completely.

This feels like the Javier you would have met a year ago in Colombia, guard up and emotions naught.

Anger blooms in his chest, feeling his insides turn a dark, dampened forest green with envy. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground, he stomps it before walking away from you, cold shoulder freezing you out while he heads back inside.

You were supposed to be his. His Bebita, his angel. He doesn’t own you, no, but he wanted to feel chosen by you. And all of this, the fact that this whole time there have been other people that you see the same as him, he knows he was never the only choice.

“Javier, stop—” you plead with him while your arm grabs his bicep, his step faltering for a moment before he recovers and removes his arm from your grip. In the low light from the warm, yellow lamps at all corners of the patio, he can see the glistening veil over your eyes. The corners of your mouth are downturned, the bottom lip jutting out in that normally irresistible pout.

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing. I—I think you should get a different ride home tonight.”

Without another breath in your direction, his heavy footsteps carry him inside, leaving you with a chill across your skin that is no match for the iciness of his behavior. A piece of your heart breaking like a crack in a glass, delicately, finely, but one more more and it shatters completely.

He said he was going to be there for you. Yet here he is, leaving you when you want him—need him the most.

Javier strides up to the bar, ordering a double whiskey neat. Once the crystal glass is set in front of him, it’s a blink of an eye before it’s set back down completely empty. His eyes comb the room, a glimpse of you getting caught by a professor, skin burning as jealousy boils inside of him.

Is he one of your clients? Or are you only friendly with him? Was the babysitting story with Professor Quinn bullshit? Were you with him at one point too?

Was anything real with you? Maybe he was naive to assume you were feeling all the same things he was, that this was anything more than a job. The line was blurred for him from the start, infatuation snowballing into something more — he’s in love with you.

And now he knows he’s just a job to you.

Doubt worms its way into his thoughts, anger blossoming at the thought that he was vulnerable, careful, open with you. For the first time in years, he’s let his guard down, fully falling into the comfort of your affections and completely forgetting the way you two were brought together, and now he’s getting burned. All he can remember is the few times before, long before Colombia, when he had the same feeling; tightness in his chest, shallow breathing, sweating at the nape of his neck.

Pressing his palm into his chest to find any type of relief, he feels the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes glue to you, watching your interactions and feeling suddenly desperate for fresh air. Clicks of his dress shoes echo when he finds himself in the marble-tiled lobby, stretching his lungs with every breath with a furrowed brow and thoughts racing in circles.

Muscle memory leads him to his car, folding over and supporting himself with arms outstretched against the hood. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breath, slowing himself down to deepen them. As he tries to clear his mind of all his doubtful thoughts, the image he conjures is of you, bare under the sheets the morning after that time in your apartment.

Breezy, dawn light coated the side of your face while the two of you talked in whispers, as if any louder would ruin the peace. At one thing he said, he can’t even remember now, you rolled onto your back, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears as he saw the beaming smile of yours.

That was when it solidified in his mind, his care and affection and desire rolling into the one word that encapsulates it all — love.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, smudging the image to nothing as he turns to face whoever is interrupting him.

Your eyes meet his, his brow returning to its furrowed state while his eyes round with softness. The sight of him, the emotion painted on his face, tears into your heart, but you tell yourself you have to stand your ground, to tell him all that you couldn’t when he rushed back inside.

“Javi—” your voice trails off when he interrupts you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Javi clips at you, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose when you scoff.

“Who died and made you king? You’re not the sole-decider, Javier, and after all the shit you just said to me, I think I deserve a second to speak to you,” your voice is steady despite the emotion crawling up your throat, tears burning in your waterline as you look at him in front of you, “It’s not fair for you to get angry at me. When I’m with those other men, I’m doing my job. It feels like work, and it is for me. I need the money, Javier, or else I’d have to drop out of school and still be responsible for my student loans. I’m doing what I was hired to do, the same thing you signed up for, so I don’t need the shit from you.”

Standing up straight from leaning against his car, he chuckles mockingly and shakes his head before countering, “You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

The tears burning at your waterline fill your view, blurring him standing in front of you until they start to fall in quick succession. Inside of your throat feels raw, swallowing hard and wiping the streams across your face. Mascara is definitely running down your cheeks, and your nose is sniffling while you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your sobs at bay.

He doesn’t deserve to see you so hurt. He doesn’t get to know how you really feel about him, not anymore. You made a mistake trusting him, crossing the line, and getting too attached.

Another swallow pops in your ears, mustering as much volume as you can without completely breaking, “I really thought you were different, but I guess not. Now I know what you really think about me.”

You shift your weight in your heels, looking at Javi once more, stoicism on high and the emotion you saw before completely void. Anger is strong across his face, with the brief reprieve of gentle care when a small sob slips out. Turning around to walk back inside and collect yourself, the sound of Javi’s rasp stopping you in your tracks.

Javier hears what he said played back in his head, the sight of your tears constricting his throat. With a dry mouth, he stutters out an attempt to back track, “Wait, wait—I didn’t—Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Bebita.”

You flinch, the name that normally sends warmth spreading across your chest now feeling like a dagger in your heart.

Facing him again, you cross your arms over your chest as your temper engulfs your emotion for a moment, spitting your response to Javier’s acrimony. “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eyes stinging as you look at him and watch his face fall from your words. “How did you mean it, Javi? Did you mean for it to have me begging for forgiveness, begging you to accept me even though I’m such used merchandise? Well, newsflash, Javier, but this was my job before you came around and screwed with my head. How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

He takes one step forward, and you take two back, shaking your head at his advance. His eyes round with softness again, tense brow shifting into a sorrowful one. Mumbling under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair before he looks at you. The need to win, to be right, to be justified in the end has him speaking before thinking yet again, “I didn’t know this is what I was getting into exactly. I thought you were with one person at a time, that all of your experiences were from the past, like, year not the past few weeks. I told you that I was only with you — you had plenty of opportunities to let me know about all the other jobs you’ve been doing. Were you telling them all the same shit? How many have you had over? Or stayed over at their place? Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you. Forget about this, about me, I’ll tell the company to cancel your payments and refund you. Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

Finally turning around again, Javier is silent as he watches you walk away, shoulders slumped forward with your arms crossed. Part of him is begging to go after you, to make it alright, to fix it for you. The other part is keeping his feet planted where he’s at, staunch in his anger toward you, toward the situation.

At the sound of the heavy building door shutting behind you, he runs his palm over his face before sighing deeply and getting into his car. He feels something in his pocket, fishing it out and confronted with the lighter you handed to him. His thumb runs over the engraving again, tracing the worn lines of the angel wings in the metal body of the Zippo.

He’s on his way down, falling from the heaven — the haven — you created for him into the familiar abyss of hell.

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missglittersmiles · 2 months

Text

Noble To The Core- CH. 1

Descendants × Fem! Reader

Summary: y/n has thoughts of what was when a letter addressed to her comes.

•| ⊱ Sleepy Week ⊰ |•

Love. Oh, it's such a wonderful thing to not only feel, but to have. Love can be as plutonic as loving your friends and family or it could be romantic. There's so many ways to love as well. The language of love is as vast as the sea.

The expression of love has been dumbed down to five categories. Gift giving sounds materialistic and even crass, but it's always nice to receive something from a loved one. What makes it even more special is if it was made by hand. Acts of service is always a treat when the loved one is doing it out of the kindness of their heart. Even if they have a hard time and struggle a bit, it's the thought that makes one smile.

Then there are words of affirmation. It's always nice to hear them say how much they care even if you know. Physical touch does what words can't explain as sometimes a comforting hug can go a long way. Lastly is quality time. Spending time together always deepens the bond between two people. They could be doing the simplest thing such as having dinner or something more out there like climbing a cliff.

Love was truly one of life's greatest gifts.

So what did y/n do wrong?

Half of the isle must have heard of her break up with Hook. They had been going steady building a fine foundation for their relationship, but she went and wrecked it. The foundation was too weak so when she put her foot down for the first time, the floor broke.

Thinking more on the history of their relationship made her realize that maybe they were doomed from the start. High school relationships don't last after school, so middle school relationships don't last that long either. Would it be considered a miracle that they last nearly three years? Who knows really. The memory of how Hook shot an arrow through her heart flooded y/n's mind.

It was middle school during lunch. y/n was sitting with Carlos, it was only the two of them since the other three decided to skip school. Carlos almost followed their lead, but she knew he'd feel bad for leaving her behind at school again. There was no talking y/n out of skipping no matter how hard he and the others tried.

He told a white lie to them about how his mother found out he had been skipping school. That he's not allowed to miss another day or else he'll regret it. They moan and groan at the explanation yet ultimately let him off the hook. He didn't want them knowing that he was willingly hanging out with the resident dullard.

Even though the memory is only a few years old, y/n remembers the conversation they were having like it was yesterday. They were talking about the rumor of a ghost walking along the beach during the witching hour. It was a hot top amongst the younger residents of the isle. y/n and Carlos were simply exchanging what they had heard and their thoughts.

When a boy barged into the conversation. y/n automatically recognized who he was. Harry Hook was infamous for supposedly stabbing an older boy’s eye who had been his older sister's ex. No one is sure what parts are embellished. All that is concrete is that his older sister's ex lost an eye.

She didn't know too much about him aside from that and seeing him constantly with his two friends. Uma had blue hair and always had something to say about Mal. Gil seems nice, but has a bit of a thick skull.

Completely disregarding the conversation going on Harry turned his attention to y/n. His light blue eyes pierced into her which caused an uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Not being able to withstand the self-conscious feeling she shifted her eyes down to her sandwich. He'd go away as long as she didn't react to his words or actions. Carlos was with her too and she's sure he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. They've always had each other's backs.

What she shouldn't have done was assume that he was there to cause her trouble or mock her just like everyone else.

Just as Carlos was going to open his mouth, the Scottish boy spoke up. "I’ve heard it said that kissing is the ‘language of love.’ Would ye care to have a conversation with me about it sometime?" Both of their eyes widened at his words, completely bewildered at what caused him to say such a thing. y/n nearly snapped her neck to look at Harry to see who he said that to.

Yet there he was looking at her with a cheeky almost shark-like smile. His eyes, they might have been the brightest thing y/n has ever seen. They were as bright as a cloudless sky yet deep as the salty sea. At that very moment his eyes were the most beautiful thing y/n has ever seen.

"Didn't you tell Mal the same thing yesterday?" Carlos questioned with a grimace. Harry huffed slightly at the accusation and pulled his eyes away from the girl to glare at Carlos, "No. I said, what does it feel like to be the most gorgeous girl in the room?" Carlos wouldn't admit it, but Harry did have a scary face that held him back from telling him to back off. What didn't help was that Harry wasn't all bark because he's seen him and Jay get in a number of fights. It was safe to say that there was a low chance of beating Harry in a fair fight.

y/n shifted her eyes back down as she spoke up. "I wouldn't be opposed to having a discussion about love with you, but you'd have to take me out to see if you're worth any time and effort." Carlos nearly popped his eyes out of his skull. Harry seemed nearly just as surprised then quickly hid it with a toothy grin.

"I know this great restaurant- my friend actually owns it."

"I have a curfew, I have to be back home before five." A sense of disappointment crawled up y/n's spine as her heart beat like a drum to hear his response. At the same time Carlos' anxiety began to simmer down.

Curfew. Not every kid had them and even then if you did have some would see you as uptight. Even then the bare minimum usually for a curfew would have been seven or eight. Five was just too early and y/n was always a 'prim and proper' person for as long as Carlos has known her. Though whether that was a good or bad thing was debatable, but today it seemed to have saved her Carlos thought.

"Tomorrow then?"

She suddenly sucked in a large amount of air through her nose. Holding her breath she responded with a yes. "Great, meet me at the dock tomorrow at one."

Just like that y/n was indoctrinated into Uma's group. Since Harry is closely followed by Uma and Gil.

y/n didn't care too much about Mal's thoughts on the matter. Evie and Jay's opinions didn't matter either. All that she was worried about was Carlos. His group has finally found a reason to distance themselves from her aside from being a wet blanket. Mal can call her a traitor, two-faced, and prissy dullard all she wants. Carlos is the only one that was really friends with her.

The two had a conversation about the sudden shift in the group. It was surprisingly short with Carlos expressing that he was honestly fine with everything as long as she was alright. Which made y/n happy to hear that she hadn't lost her only friend for a boy she wasn't even too sure about at that time. That happiness was dampened when he explained that they couldn't hang out or even talk publicly.

As much as it hurt her to hear that, she understood. You wouldn't want to stand up for the local self-righteous dunce that is supposedly a traitor. It would give you a weird look and maybe even a target for some bullying.

Slowly they began drifting apart, leading y/n to regularly visit Ursula's Fish and Chips. There were a few times they hung out like the good old days, but those were far and few between.

Everything felt so flowery being around Hook. Things seemed a little brighter. This was something new and exciting. Then there were those moments of tenderness that pop up ever so often that made everything sweeter.

As sweet as it was, they'd always be shortly followed by a sour taste. Hook seemed more interested in working with his crew which was fine for the most part. y/n can understand that the world doesn't revolve around her. Still it made her a little sour whenever she gathered the courage to ask to do something together and be turned down because he has business with the crew.

She took up a job as a cook at Ursula's Fish and Chips to just be around him a little more. Maybe even try to build some sort of connection with his two closest friends. Which seemed to work slowly. It wasn't uncommon for her to be the butt of a joke or a victim to a prank. She always laughed it off. The last thing she needed was to show vulnerability and make the crew think she couldn't take a joke. That sour taste would permeate to her mouth as she'd listen to Hook laugh along with the others. She'd try to tell herself that she was being too soft like everyone said. She needed to toughen up.

Though what turned everything from a candy sour to a spoiled milk was the flirting. Hook couldn't just keep his mouth shut. y/n doesn't need to hear him spout some cheesy line to a customer. She doesn't want to hear how he thinks some other person's face looks pretty. Angry jealousy would silently build up within her before being put out like a fire. Was there something wrong with her? Was she being too possessive? Did he really mean what he said to that person?

Even after she admitted how uncomfortable it was seeing him openly flirting with others. He just cupped her face in his hands and said, "You're so cute when you're jealous." He never answered if he meant what he said. It felt like he was dancing around the topic rather than taking it head on.

She should have stood her ground rather than being drawn in with his pretty words and eyes. It was stupid. She was stupid.

Breaking things off seemed like a good idea when they were arguing. They needed to back off and give each other some time, but she nearly forgot that her "friends" were really his. She had cut off any semblance of a friendship with someone that wasn't her family. Did that mean she was really an outcast now?

Who wanted to be around a boring prissy dullard? No one. No one aside from Carlos maybe. Though that was a big maybe and y/n frankly didn't want to be rejected. She couldn't mentally take the risk of being turned down by possibly the only one she had left. She didn't want to learn if everyone else on this island thought of her as annoying. Not even hate, just annoyed by her presence.

Right after the break up, she quit her job at Ursula's and with nothing else to do laid in bed. She's tried converting all these pent up negative emotions into her drawings, but it has become so draining. Writing her feelings out was just as tiring. So she slept and slept. She was over sleeping so much that her older brother called her Sleeping Schlump. She couldn't be called Sleeping Beauty because she had no beauty to begin with. Of course her mom told her brother off for saying such a thing.

As much as y/n hated her older brother and thought he was the textbook definition of ignorance. He was right. She was sleeping away the days and didn't care right now.

y/n had always felt somewhat alone but this seemed like a new level. There wasn't anyone waiting for her to come hangout with. There probably wasn't anyone outside her family who cared about her. Maybe she'd be forgotten to rot away in her bed. Sleep until she doesn't wake up.

Then one morning there was frantic knocking at her door. She could hear her mom's muffled voice come from the other side. Telling her to get up and that she has a letter. The thought of what it could contain was mystifying to an extent just not enough to get her out of bed.

"Who is it from?" y/n asked as loudly as she could.

"It's from Auradon. These people from outside the isle came and handed this letter saying it was for you. We haven't read it since it's yours."

With that information y/n rolled out of bed to see what it was about. Opening the door with a creek, her mother handed her a scroll. Even before she touched it she could tell that it was expensive. Once it was in her hands her mom quickly said, "Come downstairs to read it. Me and your dad want to know what it says."

y/n wanted to huff out a small laugh at how nosey her mom was, but she could understand. Anyone would be curious to know the contents of the letter. They made their way downstairs and into the living room where y/n sat down on the worn-out couch.

Slowly she opened the scroll as if it was an ancient text that could fall apart at the slightest pull. Then quickly realized that she was holding it sideways before holding it upright. She read over what it said which put a puzzled expression on her face. "What does it say?" Her mom asked scooching closer to y/n to read what was written.

Speaking up y/n's voice sounded confused as if she still didn't understand what it meant. "It's an…acceptance letter for Auradon Prep?"

Noble To The Core Masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading. Constructive feedback is welcome and encouraged.

#descendants #descendants x reader #harry hook #harry hook x reader #disney descendants #noble to the core #x reader #x female reader

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fresh-depression-soup · 1 year

Text

No one believes in aliens. Heck, even I don’t particularly have an opinion. But, there are facts that we should be aware of and that line-up suspiciously.

For instance, my family has a long history in military work dating back to the Founding Fathers themselves, more recently being in the Air Force. My great uncle was in the same unit as President George Bush Sr. in WWII, my dad’s dad and stepdad and my grandpa were Air Force during WWII and Vietnam, and mom’s dad was in New Mexico as one of the soldiers helping test the first atom bomb. It is truly astounding how far back family history takes you, how far it shows your blood has been. My dad has been around the country during his youth while his dad and stepdad were active duty, consequently seeing quite more of the U.S. than is probably available to the general public. He has recalled to my siblings and I exactly once, and in careful detail, of an event we are only privy to through accident. My dad’s mom’s side of the family lived in New Mexico during one of the most curious possible alien sightings, by circumstance of a family member being in service nearby at the time.

Roswell, New Mexico, is a place of great debate.

All I can say is that we have accounts, handed down to me by just two generations of family, that witnessed the most infamous day that birthed the phenomena of UFO sightings. But, is unidentified really true? The event is disregarded in history as a military balloon so why would the flying object be unidentified?

Perhaps it is unidentified because we do not actually know where it came from. If the first hand accounts sneakily passed through generations are anything to be believed, then aliens are just as real a possibility as imaginable. Nothing is concrete of course, the accounts have had plenty of time to be embellished through time, but even the bare bones picture of what is painted shows something similar to a worldwide cover up by the United States government.

It sounds crazy, because it is. But also my family is not the type to joke, especially when you talk about my dad’s mom’s side.

From the stories, my family saw snippets of the craft that was taken by far, far too many government vehicles and guarded by an unreasonable amount of local and national police. If this was “just a weather balloon,” it must have been a hell of an important one. Also, the recovered wreckage that was seen in transport was incredibly advanced and sleek, nothing that my family had ever seen before from test sites.

On its own, these circumstances are suspicious but not enough to make any declaration with.

So I will add the statements of my own father, who in the late 1970s or early 1980s, was with his parents going through a military facility in Ohio. They were there for a tour of sorts of the portions of the facility open to the public. My father, being young, dumb, and curious, snuck off from the group and wandered into the part of the facility top secret to anyone except the high ranking military staff. He had taken a staircase down a few floors and eventually ran into another museum kind of room - except it was filled with alien artifacts.

It has been long enough my father does not remember everything that was in the room, but he vividly remembers seeing pieces of smooth metal in thick, glass display cases titled, “Recovered Alien Craft from Roswell, NM.” My father was found soon after he made it into that room and was escorted out of the building with his parents, and sworn under NDAs they signed before going in, they can never publicly talk about anything they saw in the facility.

I’m starting to wonder now if that was a bad idea.

As I stare at the national news channel, witness to the live feed of alien starships sending smaller fighters across the world, I can’t help but wonder if secrecy was worth this. I can’t help but wonder if the world knew the truth my father whispered to me two decades ago, if it would become this bad this fast. I can’t help but wonder what better ways we could have defended ourselves if our oh so righteous government would have warned us of our apocalypse.

This is not the battle we thought we would face, but humanity has always reveled in war.

So we took up arms, our differences unceremoniously shoved in the corner. Humanity, for the first time in millenia, issued a state of peace with each other worldwide. Of course, we still had our differences at home, but faced with an invading trans-galactic force that harnessed light travel while we were cavemen, we United.

We didn’t know until long later when sharing stories with other intergalactic species, but the invaders had been torturing the sectors of space nearest to us for longer than lived memory. Their official species title was Xakkiel, when translated to human tongue, but well. In the early days we fought back from every corner.

We nicknamed them The Imperial Khans.

On the early warfronts, humanity was scattered and uncoordinated mostly. But then, leaders arose. It actually didn’t surprise the world too much about where these resistance leaders came from. Each of them had the same drawl, the same will, and the same vicious instinct. In these early days, interplanetary communication was hard to come by because most satellites were destroyed by the Xakkiel, but word of mouth threw the stories far and wide, encouraging other resistance pockets. From the depths of America, stories of the Rednecks prevailed.

The Rednecks went out to their hunting gear and dragged out every single weapon they owned, whether rifles, handguns, knives, even a few swords and medieval armor sets from history lovers. These were distributed among unarmed friends and family and from there, the world grew hope. Stories of camo-covered snipers, wiping out entire Xakkiel units dispatched through the Appalachians and the forests of the Deep South, stories of ambushes from hand-to-hand combat proficient humans, and one notable story of Xakkiels running across bear families and being mauled.

The Imperial Khans grew to be scared of the thick accents of some humans, of rugged, sunburnt skin, of the sound of shotguns cocking.

Humans went from laughing or being fascinated by the idea of aliens, to beheading them.

We don’t “believe” in aliens anymore. We despise them. We chase them through our backyards and lose pieces of ourselves in the process, but for every human that lost a limb, a Xakkiel lost its life. Other species are fighting back against the oppression of the Xakkiels now too. They heard through the stars of a soft bodied, yet determined and unbreakable race that was invaded and continued still, breaking the spirits of those who began the invasion.

Humans have banded together with broken Xakkiel craft and fixed it, using them to chase the invaders out of our solar system and others. Now we are the aliens - except we save the universe instead of destroying it.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens are coming #humans are space australians #humans are unexpected heroes #humans are terrifying #star wars names #star trek names

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wreckingtickles · 7 months

Text

Kaminari & Mx Rake (NSFW)

In which Kaminari learns that electricity and water don't mix.

The Auction Masterlist

Words: 4,274

Water slides. From that singular observation, Kaminari’s short-circuited brain began reconstructing its usual patterns. That thing is a water slide. And so is that one. When did I last go to a water park? Summer, was Kiri there? And Kyoka? That’s a very small water slide. It’s not a real one. It’s a model. So many water slide models. Functioning, with water running down them. Why are there so many water slide models in this room?

Why I am in this room?

The ceiling and walls alike were draped in darkness, so Kaminari had no idea how large the room actually was. He could only make out the gray floor, concrete-like, and dozens, if not hundreds of colorful water slide models of different sizes and shapes. All of them poured water directly onto the ground.

But far more alarming was the fact that he was fully restrained, wearing aught safe for a pair of bright yellow boxers and white ankle socks. He was lying on his back on some padded apparatus, his legs raised vertically and his knees bent so his shins were parallel to his torso, if at a higher elevation. His ankles were enclosed in two padded metal rings topping spikes firmly planted into the ground. Similar tools held his biceps and wrists, which were bent so they were just above his head, and connected to a metal ring around his forehead that prevented him from lifting his head. Two leather straps secured to his inner thighs prevented him from bucking or sliding up and down the padded device he was lying on.

The moment he realized he was restrained, the gale of memories came rushing back, and he remembered the horrid tickling he’d experienced earlier. He started struggling against his binds with no second thoughts. He had a slimmer build than many of his more muscular classmates – Greek god Kirishima, V-shaped Bakugo, stocky Midoriya, broad-chested Ojiro – but he was no less toned, with slightly broader shoulders than swimmer-bodied Todoroki, though that still failed to score him babes. In fact, his classmates had all grown quite fed up with him constantly flashing his abs to impress the girls, which was how the latter found out his abdominal muscle was off-the-charts ticklish.

And as his lean muscles bulged fruitlessly, he heard a splash. He froze in terror, and between his raised thighs he saw a tall shadow standing mere inches away from the lower half of his body. The shadow leaned down, bringing into view a mask that was like a massive deer skull, massive antlers sprouting from its top.

“Calm yourself, Yellow. None shall hurt thee,” both threatened and promised a deep, echoing voice.

“Don’t tickle me. Please, mister, don’t tickle me anymore!”

“Mixter. I am called Mx Rake.”

“Mixter Rake, please, sire, please please please, let me go, don’t tickle me, I can’t stand it, I’ll die, please!”

“Thou shan’t perish. Thou shan’t even be hurt. The plain crown thou wearest shan’t allow thee to fulminate thine brain.”

“Please no, please… What?”

“The thing around your head won’t let you short-circuit yourself, you dumbass!” snapped Mx Rake.

That was very bad, actually. It meant Kaminari would be fully conscious through his torture. He resumed mewling with even more fervor. “Please please don’t tickle me, I’ll do anything!!!”

“Anything?” enquired the voice pensively.

“Yes, anything!” Kaminari would have nodded furiously if his restraint allowed it.

“Wouldst thou lend thy services in titillating thine friends till they lost consciousness?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Kaminari, starting enthusiastically, then doubt creeping in the last letter.

“Who wouldst thou torment? Red?”

“No, Kirishima’s my friend! Granted, he might enjoy it…”

“Orange?”

“Oh god no, he’d kill me!”

“Green? Gray? Pink?”

Denki stayed silent and gulped. None of them deserved it.

“Mayhaps White? Or Black?”

Kaminari really didn’t know Inasa and Shindo well enough to feel much sympathy for their current predicament… or so he thought before they were offered up as alternative victims. What kind of hero would accept that offer?

“No. I won’t do it. Do your worst,” he forced himself to say with as resolute a face he could put on.

“I am pleased. Forsooth, your agreeance would not have spared thee mine fingers,” uttered the shadow, two long arms protruding from its dark form, massive hands tipped by metal claws.

Denki went pale. “No no no, I changed my mind, I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”

“Too late,” proclaimed the figure as the hands retracted… and all 10 claws immediately got to work scratching at the bottom of Kaminari’s socked soles.

Kaminari instantly burst into laughter. “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOHOHOHOHOHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA!!! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHHEHEERE!!!”

“Wouldst thou favor a different target?” teased the shadow, fully aware that Kaminari was in no condition to understand irony.

“HAHAHAGAHAHAHH HAHAHA HAHAHHA AHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHH HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!!!”

Denki’s classmates had noted how he’d always scream at the top of his lungs when he was tickled. It didn’t matter where or how, if it tickled even a little bit, Denki was out. It was like he was fully unable to rein in his response, even when the tickling wasn’t as bad… and from what he remembered, the metal claws raking at his arches weren’t even half as bad as what his abs had experienced prior to his last short-circuit.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! IT TIHIHIHICKLES!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA IHIHIT TIIIICKLEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHSSSSS!!” he shouted as Mx Rake focused on his arches more, which he’d found to be more sensitive than the balls of his feet and his heels, scratching down repeatedly and giving extra love to Denki’s instep.

“To what extent does it ‘tickle’? Answer me.”

“HAHHAHAHAHAHAA! TOOMUAHHAHAHAHAHACH! HAHHAHA HAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHA GHAGHAGHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!”

“Answer me, or thou shalt be tickled forevermore.”

“A THOHAHAHAHHAHA! A THAHAHAHAHAHOUSAHAHAHAHND!!! TEHEHEN THOHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAH!!! ONE MIHIHIHLLLLIOHOHHOHOHNNN!” Denki tried to answer mid-hysterics.

“Comprised between 1 and 10, the number of the claws currently scratching under your wiggling toes.”

“HAHHAAHHAAH TEHEHEHEHEHEHEN!! TEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAH TEHEHEHEHEEHN TEHEHEHEN!!”

“It does not, Yellow. I know it,” replied the shadow matter-of-factly as the metal claws raked at the white cotton. Denki could curl his feet and even wiggle them from side to side, but Mx Rake didn’t mind. They weren’t his primary target; and once he’d start really being mean, restraints wouldn’t matter, he’d been assured.

Short on stamina as he was, Denki’s struggling became weaker, though no less desperate, same as his laughter: as Mx Rake had been informed, that confirmed that his feet weren’t even that ticklish.

Even so Denki screamed “NIIHIHIHHIIHIHIIHHINE! NIHIHHHIHAHHAAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH NINIHIHAHHAHAHANINE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!”

The shadow didn’t relent. “Dost thou seek to deceive me, child?”

“NO NONO HAHAH NOHAHAHAHAHAH!!! NAOAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAAH HAHAHAHAHAH AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Not even Denki knew if he was answering Mx Rake’s question. “EHEHEHEHEIGHT!! HAHAHAH HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEIGHHIHIHIHIHIHI!!”

“Such underhanded machinations warrant more torment,” proclaimed the shadow’s rumbling voice, thundering even above Denki’s crazed laughter, immediately before he went back to scratching at Denki’s insteps, causing his tortured vowels to stretch even longer.

“GHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! SEHEHEHEHEHEVEEHEHHEHHHE!!! SEHEHEHEHHEEHVEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

“Thou needst to speak clearly, Yellow.”

No. Not these stupid games. He hated the, hated being teased about his ticklishness, but even more, he loathed being asked to do something while being tickled, because he simply couldn’t. And yet… he’d got enough training from Bakugo and Kirishima that he managed to eke out a “HAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAH! SEHEHEHEHEHEHEVHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAH! SEHEVEN! SEVEHEN!!!!”

Surprised, Mx Rake actually paused, and Denki never thought he’d find himself being grateful for the tickling his two sadistic friends put him through on a semi-regular basis.

“That is correct,” confirmed the shadow, though that didn’t sound at all right to Denki. With a flash of fire and Sulphur, a partially unrolled scroll appeared in Mx Rake’s large, clawed hand. “I hold thine ‘Tickle Chart’, Yellow. Your feet rank a 7. Only thine armpits and chest art less sensitive. Thou art a ticklish one, verily.”

Normally Kaminari would have flushed with embarrassment, but now he was groing even paler. Because that wasn’t just information, it was a threat. Or worse yet, a promise.

“No more, please I--"

“Silence!” command Mx Rake, his clawtips making contact with the cotton again. Denki whimpered and complied.

“Thine luck is bountiful, Yellow, for my targets art few,” proclaimed the shadow, and Denki almost dared to be relieved. “Where thine good fortune be deficient, however…” Mx Rake began as his arm stretched several meters to grab at the closest water slide model. He lifted it over Denki’s right foot, letting the water it spontaneously produced run down the cotton of his sock. “…is thine own power.”

Denki didn’t understand, but he kept his mouth obediently shut. The water was almost soothing, washing out the lingering phantom tickles and cooling down a body part that had got far too much heat.

When his right foot was thoroughly drenched, Mx Rake tipped the water slide so it’d do the same to the left. The fabric grew more tight-fitting, though Kaminari knew from first-hand experience that being tickled on his bare feet would have been worse… especially with those hellish metal claws, and that was before his own damned Quirk reacted to it!

When Mx Rake laid the water slide back on its pedestal, Denki’s nerves got the best of him. “What are you going to do?”

“Demonstrate,” replied the shadow, and suddenly, all ten claws were back to work ruining Kaminari’s life, scratching at the damp cotton that had taken a pink hue.

“GHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAH ANANANANANANAHAHAHAH!!!! NAHAHAAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHANOHOHAHAHAT AGAAHAHAHAHAHAINN AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!!!”

Denki’s laughter came back full-force… and it would stay much, much longer. For where Mx Rake was still somewhat exploring before, he was now honing in on the most ticklish pots on Denki’s soles, meaning his arches and, especially, his insteps bore the brunt of his fury. The shadow only ever targeted his heels, or the balls of his foot, or his toes when he sensed that Kaminari was getting too accustomed to that targeted torment, and would switch back as soon as the sensations were fresh once more.

Denki laughed, screamed, begged, promised as the minutes tickled by, but Mx Rake took his loquaciousness to mean that he was nowhere near his true breaking point. So he kept tickling, raking, scratching, until…

Clck. Zzap! Zzap!

Sparks began arcing off Kaminari’s drenched socks, crackling as the metal fingers made contact… and Kaminari experienced a completely new sensation: every single micron of his feet being poke-tickled at once. His laughter, which had been diminishing, skyrocketed. “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! HAHAHA HAHAHHA HAHAHAHAH AHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

His Quirk was tickling him. But not just focusing on the same spots as the metal claws like before, no. It was wreaking havoc over his entire sole.

Water. That was what the water was for. It was conducting his electricity, and tickling the hell out of him as it did. It was almost like being bombarded with insanely ticklish vibrations, but that wasn’t quite it, because the sensation was much more uneven than that; and through it, he could still distinctly make out the metal claws, like ten dazzling lines in a luminous sky.

Even so, he missed them retracting several minutes after the thunderstorm began, because even when Mx Rake stopped tickling him, his own sparks didn’t, ensuring his soles would remain shrouded in a ticklish cloud that fully dispersed about a minute afterwards – which was experienced as much longer by Denki himself.

Overdramatic as always, he was left panting and whimpering as ticklish tears rolled down the sides of his head and along the peaks and valleys of his ears. His neck cramped from the effort to raise his head so he could get a better look at what Mx Rake was doing to his feet, but his restraints ensured that his feet would be at the very bottom edge of his vision, taunting him.

Suddenly, one of the water slide models was hovering right above his face.

“Drink,” commanded the shadow before water flowed the model into Denki’s parched mouth. “Thou art parched, art thou not?” he asked and, without allowing Denki to answer, he positioned the model on a pedestal right next to the electric blond; in fact, the shadow hadn’t remained idle while Kaminari was busy tickling himself, as all the models were now looming much closer to him on their pedestals, pouring water to the sides.

Mx Rake snapped his fingers, and all the water slides rotated, pouring water directly on Denki’s body, cooling him off and drenching him from the shoulders down.

“Thanks,” uttered Denki before he could stop himself. With all that thrashing and screaming, he had worked up quite a sweat. Granted, the feeling of the drenched underwear clinging to his most private parts wasn’t altogether pleasant, especially as they made his barely concealed form even less obscure…

“Hast thou not comprehended yet?” asked the shadow, and though his deer-skull could not smile, Denki recognized his bemused tone. That’s when it dawned on him.

The shadow relished in the horror that showed on his face. “Endeavour to restrain your power, should thou wish to forestall utter torment.”

“No, no wait, you can’t--!” started Kaminari before being abruptly cut off by all ten metal claws landing on his outstretched, vulnerable, terribly ticklish abs. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! HAHAHA HAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAH AHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAHA AHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Though even louder, Denki’s laughter was, perhaps surprisingly, lower-pitched: that was because all performative agony was gone. What Kaminari was feeling was genuine, unadulterated ticklish agony, and the laughter bursting forth nothing other than the sound of a ticklishness 10 spot being exploited by capable, metal-tipped fingers.

The hands were so large and the fingers so long that they could cover the whole expanse of Denki’s stomach with ease, from the waistband of his soaked underwear to his sternum, side-to-side; and what was even worse, each of them could move independently from the others, so one thumb was circling and dipping into his bellybutton while three other fingers raked at his lowest set of abs, just above his waist, while other fingers still ran up and down his lats and along the bottom of his ribcage.

It was horrible. Absolutely horrible. Only that time Sero had taped him to the common room floor and all their classmates had ganged up on him with rubber gloves compared, and barely. they had been vicious, but not many had been this skilled, this precise. And somehow, throughout it all, he was supposed to hold off his Quirk?!

The scratching got faster, even faster, and Denki dipped into silent laughter, and somehow he knew it hadn’t even been 10 seconds, so he forced himself to laugh himself crazy again, because even that tiny bit of release helped him fend off the spontaneous manifestations of his own Quirk, the weapon that the metal claws and water would turn on him…

“……………………………………………..HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

It was thanks to all that hostage training, controlling his Quirk so he wouldn’t harm the pretend-civilians, that he’d been able to hold out that long, when normally his shocks would have freed him from the hands of any sadistic classmate. The effort was superhuman…

As he kept raking at his taut belly, drawing the outline of each muscle, savoring the vibrating mirth, Mx Rake leaned down, his deer-skull mask an inch from Kaminari’s mirth-filled eyes, and he proclaimed “20 seconds have passed. 20 minutes still.”

Two things happened almost simultaneously. First, sparks began to trickle out of Denki’s skin, attracted by the metal fingers, and making the tickling that much more unbearable; and since Denki was already at his breaking point, that extra dose of torture tipped him over the edge, and he short-circuited: the whole room was lit by a flash as thunder crackled…

But he didn’t derp out: the circlet holding down his head sent the electricity back down his body, and a massive surge of ticklishness enveloped him from the neck down.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HAHAHA……………………………… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAH AHHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

What came out of him could barely be called laughter, it was mirth-filled shrieking. His everything tickled: his feet, knees – god, his knees – thighs, torso, even the underwear-clad portion, everything was subjected to agonizing ticklish vibrations, pure and unfiltered. And even through all that, he could feel the claws trace their horrid patterns on the sensitive skin of his stomach.

Mx Rake made sure to make every single promised second the absolute worst it could be, the ever-changing patterns on Kaminari’s abs never allowing themselves to falter below the cloud of sensation that his own Quirk was inflicting on him, and kept inflicting on him for a solid few minutes after the promised time elapsed.

As soon as Kaminari was able to feel surprise again, he marveled that he made it through without passing out, since being tickled for that long and that hard without short-circuiting was uncharted territory for him. There be monsters.

But the second surprise was unveiled to him by the shadow’s tilted head, as Kaminari realized that among all the soreness of his thrashing, there was unexpected tension.

Kaminari was hard. Not a half-assed boner, he was fully erect in his soaked, still crackling underwear, or he would have been if the yellow fabric allowed him to grow to his full length – average, maybe even slightly above average, though he felt small.

He instantly knew what happened. That fucking water. His nipples weren’t ticklish, though his groin was a bit, but the continuous discharge had had a secondary effect on those areas, one that he hadn’t been able to focus on while every strand of laughter was pulled out of him.

“A surprise, to be sure. Yet a welcome one,” muses Mx Rake, his massive palms resting on the inner side of each of Denki’s thighs.

“It’s!! It’s not my fault, the electricity--!!” protested Denki, but the shadow’s imperious palm silenced him.

“Wishest thou for deliverance?” ask the hollow eyes. Kaminari doesn’t understand the literal meaning of those words, but the amused tone is eloquent enough.

Kaminari mouths unintelligible words before a timid “N-No!” He’d always had to take care of his own arousal. Well, there was that one time where he was so desperate he almost asked Kirishima to help him out, he knew his friend wouldn’t judge him… but he certainly wasn’t going to say yes to some shadow demon or whatever hell-bent on tickling him!

Mx Rake nodded, and two water slides swiveled, drenching Denki’s chest, each stream aimed directly at one nipple.

“I shall bide my time, then. A thousand rotations, I would say.”

---

“GGGGGHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HAHHAHAAH HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!! OKHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! OKAHAHAHHAHAKOKHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!” desperately pleaded Kaminari as 4 fingers completed their thousandth rotation along his lower belly, while the other 6 glided clockwise along the edge of his ribcage, which he’d painfully learned was the most sensitive spot on his extremely ticklish midsection.

Throughout the rotations, the water slides had kept pouring water on his nipples, which crackled with electricity. Kaminari wasn’t normally ticklish there, and the light tickles he felt were perfectly negligible compared to the electric hell that were his abs, with the metal claws acting as lighting rods that further enhanced his torment… but another part of him was responding very strongly to the attention to his erect nubs, soaking his damp underwear with pre-cum.

But even stronger than the endlessly frustrated arousal was the need for those damn claws to leave his horribly sensitive abs alone. He’d come to regret every single crunch he’d done.

“HHAGHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAH!!! DEHEHEHELIVER DEHEHEHEHELIVEROOOHOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAH!!!”

The clawtips stopped for a moment, though the electricity kept crackling.

“A thousand more rotations.”

---

Kaminari had never been that exhausted, sweaty, or horny. In fact, he was convinced the arousal built by the relentless nipple stimulation was the only thing keeping him awake. That and the discomfort of the damp underwear constraining his erection.

“Wilst thou embrace deliverance?” thundered the echoing voice.

Denki tried to nod, too tired and raspy to answer, but the circlet prevented it. So, eyes closed, he simply mouthed his answer.

A splash of cold water on his nether regions revitalized him, the slight pressure more than enough to wreak havoc on his excited system.

But his eyes opened when he felt the claws on his abs once again.

“No, please…!” he whimpered as the claws glided ever so lightly, ever so slowly up and down his ticklish flesh.

“I have paid the toll. I am owned my time in full,” lashed the shadow, but his touch remained gentle. It wasn’t pleasant by any definition, except it wasn’t anywhere near as torturous as before, but it forced Denki to maintain a steady stream of giggling, on the very cusp of laughter but without getting enough stimulation to be allowed that release.

It didn’t take long for Denki’s Quirk to manifest again, and he gasped when the tickling intensified and the vibrations spread to his groin.

“Oh. Oh… ohohahaha oh! Ohhahaha oh! Oh! Oh!”

Even as it was indirectly fueling his arousal, the tickling was also distracting Kaminari from it. Those claws, those damned claws…

But the electricity around his cock felt so good, like a vibrating sleeve, that he didn’t know what to beg for. He kept moaning and chuckling for what to him was an unbearably long time, but was really probably less than a minute, until…

“Ohoho ha haha oh! Oh! O—Ooooooooooohnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhh! OH! OH! OH! OH!!!” he cried as he spurted in his underwear, the pressure being far too much, and for those massive seconds, the claws almost felt pleasant on his skin…

And as wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on him, Denki passed out.

---

When Kaminari opened his eyes again, he was lying face-down on the wet floor, elbows propped up, belly adhering to the cold surface, and his cock… wait, his cock was dangling through it?! Like in some sort of hole filled with liquid. Why was he naked?!

He was secured to the ground through his forearms, waist, thighs, and ankles, so he looked like his plank position crumbled and he’d remained stuck there.

He looked around. No water slides. No shadow. Nothing. He’s alone. Or so he thought until he glanced down and saw a deer skull looking back at him from below the surface. The antlers pierced the water, rising up from the ground, the head, until it was level with Kaminari’s.

“Please. Let me go,” begged the blond, though he already knew he wasn’t getting any mercy.

“I have paid the toll. Thine vanishing spells shan’t keep thee from what I’m owed.”

And the cold touch of the metal claws makes itself known once more, dragging up and Kaminari’s exposed buttocks.

“Oh no come on no no, nohot there!”

“It shan’t be there,” Mx Rake responds, oozing mischief. The claws trail down Kaminari’s legs…

“Oh no wait wahahait!!” Kaminari panics as they glide down his kneepit, stopping at the top of his shin muscle.

“I have stopped.”

“Nonononono, keep goihing!!! Tickle my feet, my, my armpits, my thighs, my belly – no wait, not my belly--”

“Thou hidest more than one ten,” remarks Mx Rake, and he reverses course, dragging the claws up Denki’s kneepits, then down again…

“NonoNOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

All control lost right away, sparks immediately fly off Denki’s buttocks, traveling along the water’s edge so they crackle against his balls, waist, and much more tragically, his abs; and down into the water, enveloping his entire flaccid length.

“GOOOOOHAHAHAHAAHAD!!! HAHAHA HHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHA!!!!!”

Thus begins a new cycle where Mx Rake gently glides his claws up and down Denki’s kneepits, often lingering just beneath it, in the interstice between the two muscles, which is just as sensitive, just as torturous as his abs; and as Kaminari laughs his head off, sparks fly, stimulating Denki’s abs again, as well as his scrotum and his entire length, soon growing into an erection, which makes it even more sensitive.

The ticklish agony slows it down, but the arousal keeps building up, up, a two-steps-forward-one-step-back proposition between the two contrasting pulls that keep Denki on the edge for way, way, way longer than he’s ever experienced – then again, he’s never been tickled that hard or that long either…

Until the pressure is too much, and Mx Rake hears his voice cut off abruptly. He doesn’t need to see the blond’s slack jaw or his unfocused pupils to know what’s going on, he simply continues wreaking havoc on those kneepits and shins, so Denki’s Quirk will continue to torment his abs and cock… allowing him to discover just how much more ticklish one gets after an orgasm, especially on their cock.

Denki screams, laughs, coughs, wheezes, hiccups, but the shadow doesn’t stop for one moment, and neither do the sparks. And when Denki feels himself growing hard again, having learned what will be in store for him once he cums, he begs Mx Rake not to let him cum, which is tantamount to pleading with him to stop with twice as much emphasis, so it’s all wasted effort.

Kaminari peaks again, and again, and again; all struggling, laughter and even pleasure steadily leaving him, but still, Mx Rake doesn’t stop; when he knows his time is almost up, he sets up one of his trusted water slide models so the water will run down Denki’s back and into his buttcrack, gifting him a more powerful and ticklish orgasm that rouses him from his near stupor, before he passes out once again.

When the Interdimensional Auctioneer appeared to set Denki free and return him to his world, he notices that Mx Rake still has a little time left.

The shadow’s voice betrays a smile. “I am satisfied. Keep the change. Mayhaps I shall reclaim those remaining few minutes in the future.”

#mha tickle #bnha tickle #spicy content #tickle content #tickle fic #tickletorture #ticklish!kaminari #lee!kaminari

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ricinbach · 18 days

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howlin' for you. | chapter 3 - and away she ran

when pure fear hit, there was only one way to run. The Wolf Among Us - Bigby Wolf x reader

Click, click.

Left, right. Another left. And another click.

The familiar sound of your heels hitting the worn-out concrete blocks, a memorized rhythm that was etched onto your routine for the past years. The spritzes of perfume evaporating slowly off of the radiant, smooth skin, mixing in with the usual combination of cigarette smoke, back alley grease and the city air.

It was just another Friday at the job.

Freshly painted lips wrapped around the thin cigarette between your fingers - a hungry drag of the killer nicotine running down your throat, smoke exiting out in a huff as you exhaled. The dress of choice had been a relatively innocent white halter top that night, clearly contrasting the atmosphere in which you had to throw yourself in for the time being. The cleavage ran low, it always did. It was just the way they preferred it.

Now that you had thought of it, it made the pretty little ribbon stand out even more.

It made cold, ice cold shivers run down your spine in the heatwave that disipated off into the night.

Everything will be alright. In and out, only for half an hour.

The fading gleam of the city lights, apartments flickering back to darkness one by one at the ungodly hour turned themselves into the pink and purple hues. High streetlights beaming down over you, dark and purple shadows following your graceful stride, a practiced one after too many nights spent on those high stilettos.

Yet how many more nights would you have to spend like this, so that you could get out of that damned club's employee list? Find a way to untangle that bow and not face the consequences? It had been a question looming, rippling and bubbling in your mind for the past too many years - somewhat motivating you, and sometimes, simply draining any life that was left within you. But that night, that one particular night, there was something new within - some sort of indescribable feeling of anxiety combined by both the fear and excitement of the unknown.

Freedom.

The mere thought of it making shivers run down your spine, those of comfort and excitement all combined within. If only your legs could take you far, far away, far enough to get out of the confinements of the spells binding your tongue. So close, yet so far. Tied to the brink of your very being by a literal piece of thread - the pink bow.

You will be just fine.

This appointment was one that came out of nowhere, not that it had been unusual to have a couple of those sometimes - there were a lot of people willing to request services on a whim up in Fabletown, and frankly, while you had been relatively new to the hellhole of a club, it made good money. That must have been why you hesitated a bit less than usual when Vivian gave you a very rushed call asking you to go to the motel right away - not that you had a choice anyway.

The night was just starting as you stood in front of the decrepit motel, lit under the streetlights that threatened to give out into the purple hues of neon darkness any minute. The crackling sign over you as the cigarette was swiftly extinguished on the floor under the sole, the wooden door creaking as the six-inch heels carried you inside with accustomed ease.

Loud, ethereal music coming from up above surrounded your senses as you took confident steps towards the little front desk, the smell of cigarettes, flesh and potent perfume all around the wretched motel. The phone that had been broken for a damn long time with no one to fix it, was dangling off the holder as the metal cord swayed gently in the leftover air - almost mimicking your step’s rhythm. Moans resonated off of the walls when the friction of wood against metal joined - with Beauty appearing behind the space, her lovely and innocent face bearing a genuine smile a striking contrast with the nature of her occupation.

“Hey, love,” she would greet you in her usual choice of sisterly endearment as your lips held a soft smile, a carefully constructed one.

“Have a key?”

A hand swiftly reaching to the side of your bag, you clutched the single key with a label attached on it, clinks echoing. “I do - 207.”

With a small nod, as gracefully as she could in a place like that, let you advance up the stairs leading up to the rooms.

That night, it would later appear the insulation spell running through the walls and doors did their job better than expected.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that awaited behind the closed door.

Sheriff Wolf needed a goddamn drink.

There was a very limited handful of things the wolf could truly get to enjoy, leading his particularly demanding lifestyle. Such as the mere promise of the one current constant in his life that was awaiting for him at home, if the pig had not lapped up the last of it - bourbon.

It was no addiction, no, not many substances could induce that type of behavior on a willpower like his. He considered it an established routine if anything - something that he kept coming back to and that he knew would always be there, one that provided him the slightest of comfortable buzzes, lulled him to sleep when no one else would. Just two fingers of the amber liquid every now and then - the sheer feeling of temporary warmth that fell down his parched throat, the lingering taste of honey with notes of caramel and the inherent woody bitterness.

Nights where he got to spend sprawled over his wide-enough armchair, head thrown back in exhaustion, his little tabletop fan a sad excuse for air circulation, knuckes red in fresh cuts with his long fingers loosely wrapped around a questionably clean glass - he felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.

Even when there were tears in his signature faded off-white, once crisp shirt, and blood trickling down on his jaw.

Just another Friday at the job.

It had been a lingering thought of his that maybe the alcohol helped subdue the monster hidden deep within, with the very momentary relaxation sent all over his being in the form of sips. Some sort of a Placebo effect, like the Mundies liked to call it - taking in the drug that essentially did close to nothing to ail the body, and yet, the strong, constructed and desperate belief that it just might made them feel all the better. Something he never understood how until he got to experience it himself.

And now, the very act of the ritual reminded him of his humanity, of who he truly believed he was at the core - not what.

That night, where the moon was so bright in the lingering heatwave, he found himself downing his fifth cup of strong coffee instead of liquor.

Running a hand down his two-day stubble that made him look even more rough around the edges than he already was, a sigh filled out the stuffy air of his small yet functional office, the exact copy of the fan in his apartment not doing much good. That moment, he mentally swore to ask Snow into letting the Woodlands transition to air conditioning, sooner rather than later in that damned heatwave. A long shot by any means - he of all people knew how hard she could be to convince but not impossible, nonetheless.

His body burning like a furnace, a hand would move up to loosen his tie even more, the white fabric parting ever so slightly to liberate taut skin.

A quick glance to the clock would make him sigh once more, this time a more guttural sound - 2:32AM.

A swift rustle of papers and he would find his half-empty pack, tapping it lightly to get a single cigarette as he placed the filtered part in between his lips, the lighter following suit.

A long, hungry drag later, the gray smoke filled his lungs as a huff came next, finally leaning back into his desk chair with the other hand tracing through the numerous files covering his wooden workspace.

How many cases had he gone through for the day? It was a particularly busy one, with the everlasting line at the Business Office which got redirected to his office eventually, most cases of accounts brought in by the Fables demonstrating their innate pettiness - stolen personal artifacts from the Homelands, the usual bar fight over hustling some pool, complaints for the increasing rent at the Luxury Apartments.

Wish they stopped calling it that.

Yet, there was this one report that stood splayed open with the attached file that stood to his eye - not the most recent but new and urgent nonetheless, one that he had been meaning to get to for days.

One of us.

It had been one of them missing, and it killed him to the core that he had not been able to start investigating when it first landed on his desk. That was the way it should have been - a Fable goes missing in an almost alien city that was not theirs to begin with, it should have been the first priority. It would have to override every single other case he was on, making him dedicate anything and everything he had.

Instead, he had to deal with drunken Fables hitting each other as they fought over stupid poker games.

Taking in another drag as his cheeks hollowed with the poison, his amber eyes scanned the papers and clippings attached. Short summary of the police reports would also be included if there were any - their absence, like this one time, was usually a good sign that left Bigby with yet one less thing to worry about.

Among the pictures that Snow clipped neatly over the documents, was a glamored one next to a true form. A certain realization made Bigby’s eyebrows furrow as he instinctively leaned in closer to inspect, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale. A common choice of accessory in both shots.

A purple ribbon tied tautly around the neck.

Warm liquor was not enough the satiate the worry emancipating in his soul, growing the urge to protect and to find out the truth.

He would have to do either, sooner or later.

As an unexpected knock echoed through his chambers, he wished he could do the latter before having to break someone’s neck.

One hand holding the almost finished cigarette with the last trails of smoke flowing, he opened the creaking door only to find a pair of terrified eyes staring right into his.

#it's been literally 3 years i updated this #twau #the wolf among us #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #bigby wolf

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ezygrindpolishedconcrete · 9 months

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ottawaconcretepolishing · 5 months

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dreamologisth2o · 2 years

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That Time When You’re Offered a Job by the Very Same Guy You Just Tried to Mug

(For the redtaxproject, a scene from my personal superhero AU :))

“I’ll kill you, y’know?” Tommy grumbles, scowling up at the man through the bag of groceries he’d been given to carry.

“Mmhmm.” The man hums, completely unbothered as he continues leading Tommy to… somewhere. The man had said he was going back home, and that Tommy could join him for a meal if he wanted— so long as he helped carry the groceries. But even Tommy wasn’t dumb enough to bring a stranger who’d just threatened to kill and rob him back home.

It’s probably a trap, or something. Tommy’s probably gonna die, in the basement of some weirdo’s house, with no one to mourn him. If he’s lucky the man will just take him back to child services, or the police. If he’s unlucky he’ll end up as a lab rat and buried six feet under.

But the offer of a warm meal was too tempting— he hadn’t eaten anything decent in days. And honestly, it’s not like he’s got much else to lose is there?

Nothing to lose except my freedom and my life, Tommy thinks, sardonically.

“I’ll kill you, y’know,” Tommy repeats. “I’ll stab you in your fucking sleep and rob your house blind.” He glared, staring intently at the man as they continued down the darkened streets.

The man turned, a small, little smile still quirked up on his lips— and Tommy scowled harder. It pissed him off, how unbothered the man was, how— how amused he seemed to be at Tommy’s threats which. Well. Considering how unafraid the man was when Tommy was armed with a fucking knife, it probably shouldn’t be too surprising that he didn’t find Tommy very threatening at all.

“My name is Dream.” The man, Dream, says. And Tommy almost trips over his own feet at the suddenness of it. Barely managing to avoid falling face first onto the hard concrete and crushing the bag of groceries in his arms.

What?

“What?”

“Call me Dream.” And— yup, the bastard was fucking laughing at him right now.

Tommy scowls, harder— his face feeling sore from the effort of making his displeasure known. And checks his bag to make sure nothing had fallen out or gotten crushed accidentally.

“What’s your name?” Dream asks, and Tommy flips him off, stomping down the street ahead of him before stopping when he realized he didn’t know where to go.

Dream laughs, quiet, like that stupid grin, like the way he moves, like his almost silent footsteps and how he’d effortlessly disarmed Tommy, before Tommy had even realized what was happening. He hates the way Dream presents himself, quiet and unassuming. Like he’s not a threat. Like he’s not the most dangerous fucking thing around for the next hundred miles.

Why was he following this bastard again?

Right, food. That’s why.

Tommy’s stomach growls loudly at the reminder, and he instantly feels his ears grow red in embarrassment.

“Haha, don’t worry, we’re here.” Dream says, stopping next to him. Tommy looks around, and then at the door Dream had turned to. It was one of those side entrances that led directly to the second floor of a building. There wasn’t much else to it, the door being plain and undecorated, save for a tiny smile sticker next to the peakhole.

Well, it’s not like there would’ve been much room for decorations, considering the way it’s been sandwiched between an office building and, what? Tommy squinted up at the sign of the building next door, just making out the letters for “Kitten’s Kafe”. A cat cafe.

Tommy turned back to Dream, who had set his bags down, and was lightly searching his pockets for the keys, before giving up and fishing one out from underneath the cafe’s welcome mat.

Huh. Tommy thinks, that’s interesting.

“Just give me a second to put things away and get something warmed up.” Dream said, catching Tommy’s attention again as he opened the door. “You can pass me the bags and—“

Not letting the man finish, Tommy immediately pushes his own bags into Dream’s hands and rushes through the door, up the stairs.

“—take off your shoes!” Dream finishes behind him, and Tommy pauses at the top of the stairs to kick off his shoes before opening the second door into a rather spacious living area and kitchen combination.

Quickly scoping the space out, Tommy takes note of the large windows to his left. The blinds were closed, but he guessed it wouldn't be too difficult to shatter and escape through if need be. The fall would be about— two stories, Tommy guessed. Not too bad, but dangerous if he landed wrong.

Moving past the living room Tommy found a short hallway. It led to a dead end, splitting off left and right, with the left turn ending at a door, and the right turn extending further down into the house. Before he could take a step further though, Tommy felt a hand grab the back of his shirt and lift him up, like some unruly cat, or raccoon.

“Hey!” Tommy yelped, even as he was set back down in the living room. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Nothing nothing, just thought you’d like to know that the food’s ready.” Dream says, holding up his hands placatingly. ….holding up his empty hands.

Whipping around Tommy quickly took in the sight of a steaming grilled cheese on the kitchen table, a plate of bacon and a glass of warm milk next to it. The bags of groceries were piled on the floor next to the fridge.

He blinks, feeling like the world had skipped a beat, like a broken record. But the bags were still piled by the fridge, and the food still sat steaming on the table.

When he looked back, Dream was already making his way to the abandoned groceries, sorting through their contents and putting them away. Tommy continued staring, slack jawed.

“How— Wha— What the fuck?! How the fuck did you do that?!”

“How did I do what?” Dream questions, head tilted but not turning away from his work.

“That— ALL THAT.” Tommy yelled, pointing incredulously at the food. Belatedly, the smell reaches him and his stomach began protesting when Tommy didn’t start stuffing his face.

“Oh uh.” And Dream stands, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “You were kinda just staring at the window for like, a good minute or two. I didn’t wanna bother you so I went and heated up the food.”

Tommy continued to stare. Dream looked away, hand dropping.

“Do you uh, do you not want it…?”

“Are you fucking kidding me of course I want it! Just. How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?” Tommy squinted, settling down in front of the food, carefully sitting on top of his hands.

“What, you think I poisoned the food or something? If I wanted to hurt you I’d have done so in that alleyway— not bring you back to my house.” Dream scoffs, putting the last of the groceries away and throwing the extra bags under the sink.

Moving around the table, Dream sat down in front of Tommy, and crossed his arms.

“Look, if you really want, I can take a bite and prove it’s not poisoned or anything—“

“No! No, it’s fine. I’m not fucking Snow White ok? I don’t need you to prove shit.” And to back his own words Tommy finally let himself reach out and take a bite of the grilled cheese.

It’s good. It’s better than good. The bread was slightly stale, and the cheese had solidified within the sandwich, but it’s the best fucking thing he’s had to eat in weeks. Before he’d realized it, the grilled cheese was gone, his stomach comfortably full for the first time in, who knows how long it’s been.

In front of him, Dream seemed to relax, that stupid smile of his back on his face.

Tommy shot a suspicious look in his direction, before grabbing the milk. He sniffed it, shrugged, and tossed it back quickly. Then snatched a piece of bacon to chew on.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Dream asks. Tommy shoots him a look, swallowing.

“What do you think, bitch?”

Dream blinks.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask. And my name is Dream.”

“Nah. Your name is now Bitch Boy. Cause you’re a bitch.” Tommy grins smugly, very proud of his comeback.

“Do you always insult the people who give you food?” Dream grumbles, smile finally dropping.

“No-pe!” Tommy grins further, emphasizing the word with a pop. “Just you Bitch Boy!”

“Great.” Dream mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tommy paid him no mind, carefully using his last piece of bacon to gather up the grease left behind on his plate.

“So, are you gonna tell me your name, or should I keep calling you Kid?” Dreams asks, raising an eyebrow as Tommy licks his plate clean.

“I’m not a kid. I’m a big man. A full grown adult if you will.”

“Whatever you say ‘Big Man’.” Tommy flipped him off, then looked under his empty plate, as though more food would suddenly magically appear if he just checked.

“You got anymore food Bitch Boy?” Tommy asks, looking down the center of his empty cup. Staring intently at Dream through the glass like it was a telescope.

Dream’s expression seemed to twist, warping weirdly through the glass, and Tommy found that he much preferred this to the man’s actual face.

“Hey!” Tommy yelped, hands reaching out towards his cup as it was snatched away. When he looked up, Dream’s smile was gone, a faint frown marring his face.

It was strangely less irritating.

“What?” Tommy snaps, when the silence dragged on for too long, and Dream blinks. Shaking his head and schooling his expression back into a smile. Tommy scowls.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Confusion flits across his face.

“That.” Tommy repeats, pointing at Dream’s face until the man goes cross eyed. “Your face. That fucking smile or whatever. It’s fucking creepy.”

“What?” Dream says, incredulous. A hand instantly going up to cover his mouth. Something defensive settled over the man.

“You heard me. I said your smile’s fucking creepy.”

“I—! My smile is not creepy!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Tommy scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It makes you look like fucking a serial killer, or a super villain or some shit.”

“Wha— I do not look like a serial killer!”

“So does that make you a super villain then?”

“No!” Dream sputters, scowling at Tommy.

With a grumble, Dream gets up and grabs the empty plate and cup, bringing them to the sink in the kitchen. Tommy quietly watched him wash the dishes from the table.

“I was going to ask,” Dream starts, breaking the silence. “If you needed a place to stay.” Tommy looked up, but Dream wasn’t paying him any mind, attention focused on the cup he was scrubbing clean. He wasn’t smiling anymore, Tommy notes smugly, but he also wasn’t frowning. Instead an oddly flat look had taken over his face, like Dream wasn’t quite sure about the expression he should make.

“...and what’s it to you?” Tommy responds, defensive.

“Well,” Dream drawls out, hands still scrubbing at the cup. “I own the cafe under us, but we’re a little understaffed at the moment.” Setting the glass aside and shaking his hands dry, Dream finally looks back at Tommy. “So I was wondering if you’d like to spend the night here, in exchange for helping out around the cafe tomorrow.”

Tommy squints at him, instantly suspicious.

“How do I know it’s not a trap?”

Dream rolls his eyes, picking up the plate and drying it with a cloth.

“We’ve been over this already. If I wanted to do something to you I would’ve done so in that alleyway, not bring you into my house and feed you.”

“So? You could just be doing that to lower my fucking guard!”

“What?” Dream shakes his head, setting the plate aside, hand rubbing at his forehead. “Look, kid,” Tommy scowls. “Big Man, whatever. I’m not gonna do anything to you, and I’m not trying to either. I have somewhere to be tomorrow, so I can’t help manage the cafe and there’s only one other person who can come in at that time. It’s handleable but I’d rather not overwork my only employee if I don’t have to.

“If you don’t like the offer, feel free to leave and go back to wherever it is you’re staying. I’m not gonna make you stay and force you to work or whatever.”

Tommy considers this, and then considers Dream, blank faced with the slightest downwards twitch of his lips. He looked tired, Tommy notes. The way he’s ever so slightly slouched. How he’s subtly leaning his weight against the counter.

He looks defeated. Which just feels wrong on someone who could kick his ass blind folded and with both hands tied.

Which, speaking of…

“Teach me how to fight.”

“What?” Dream blinks.

“I said, teach me how to fight.” Tommy reiterates, puffing his chest out in emphasis.

“I’m not gonna teach a kid how to use a knife.” Rolling his eyes, Dream turned to put the cleaned dishes away.

“Well, yes you are.” Tommy huffs, getting up and moving to stand in the man’s way. “Because if you don’t I’m gonna walk on out of here and you’re gonna have to live with the guilt of kicking a homeless kid out of your house.”

“So you admit you’re a kid?” Dream asks, quirking an eyebrow, lips twitching reluctantly up.

“No! I’m only using that as an example!” Tommy exclaims, appalled at the very suggestion that he was anything less than an adult.

“Whatever you say.” Dream shakes his head, heaving a sigh. Setting the dishes back down, the man began messaging the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep breath.

“I’m not going to teach you how to use a knife—“

“Hey—!”

“Because you’re gonna get yourself or someone else hurt and I don’t want the police coming to me when someone inevitably gets stabbed.”

“I’m not gonna stab anyone, just threaten them a little with my amazing knife skills.”

“But,” And Dream looks at Tommy, considering. “If you decide to help out at my cafe, I won’t say no to showing you some self defense moves after hours.”

Tommy perked up.

“So you’re gonna teach me how to fight?”

Dream turned away, finally placing the cleaned dishes into the cupboard.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Uhhhh, yes you did.” Grinning, Tommy walked up to the man, poking him lightly in the side. Dream twitched. “You definitely fucking said you’d teach me how to fight.”

“No, I said I’d show you a few self defense moves.” Dream nodded, “Very different things.”

Tommy wasn’t listening, instead doing a silent victory dance in his head as he dashed around the counter, back towards the hallway.

“Hey, slow down there kid.” Dream says, snatching Tommy by the back of his shirt before he can turn the corner. “I need to set some ground rules.”

Tommy makes a face at that, sticking his tongue out childishly, but didn’t make any moves to run when Dream set him down again.

“Ok, first of all, don’t steal anything. Hey! I’m being serious. My other employee sometimes spends the night here, and he’s got his stuff lying around in the guest room. The other guest room is full of junk and you’ll be staying in his room for the night. So don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to you.

“Second, the shower’s down the hall. You can use the stuff that’s in the room, but I’m expecting you to put everything back where you found it, ok? Also, please don’t flood the place. It’ll be a nightmare to clean up.

“Third, you’re not allowed in my room. You’ll know when you see it. If you need anything just, knock. But if I find you snooping around in there then the deal’s off. Am I clear?”

“Yes yes! No stealing, no griefing, no going into fucking the end– can I go now?” Tommy squirmed under Dream’s gaze, trying his best to look on his best behavior.

“No going into the– what?” Dream shakes his head, a little confused at Tommy’s turn of phrase, before patting his shoulder. “Yes, ok. You can go. Just don’t forget to get ready tomorrow, we open at 10am!”

“Yeah yeah, see you in the morning bitch!”

OMAKE:

“And that’s how I found myself working at this cafe.”

“Wait, so you didn’t have to lie about your age and pester him for weeks?”

“What?”

#redtaxproject #cobblestonetax #seetommytax #fic #my fic #oneshot #superhero AU #weeks of brainrotting and all I have to show for it is this one fic #and it’s not even in the main character’s POV #ah well #works great for the tax project lol #dsmp #c!tommy #c!dream

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