soft and precious commission for this fic ❤️[or blind civilian hawks accidentally mistakes villain dabi for a hero]
High up in the tower
Xavier Thorpe x reader
The sirens song reaches y/n later than other students..
Warnings: reader gets hurt and spoilers for ep 8. (Havent really checked the spelling yet.)
word count: 1.2K
masterlist (from this wannabe writer)
A/N: I love Xavier in the show. I love the whole show. But he has a special place in my heart. I actually was supposed to post a Burce Wayne fic today.. but I got distracted by the show. Sooo I had to write something for this character. Let me know you thought!
The only thing that was going through my mind was that there was danger. What kind of danger? I didn't know, and the fear that clouded my mind did not allow any time to think rationally. I just had to get out of the school.
The problem was that my tiny single room was in one of the highest towers at Nevermore. I hurried down the steps as fast as I could. Nothing else mattered to me, I just had to get out. A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed at me that something was wrong. This did not feel natural. But my body did not listen.
The sounds of screams and footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls. I finally made it downstairs. Another sound reached my ears. A deep shout echoed through the halls of the ground floor. “-you abominations from this earth!” As far as I could see the hall that I was running through was empty and the angry screams came from somewhere by the fountain.
I just made it past one of the open windows when from the corner of my eye a sudden bright light came closer. The fear I felt was not unnatural anymore and as I put one of my arms up in instinct my body lifted off the ground and I was slammed against the stone wall.
There was a ringing in my head. Everything felt too hot and some places on my body were very painful. Without realizing it I had opened my eyes. It took a while for my eyes to get used to everything and be able to concentrate on something. That something being a boy with long blond hair and pale skin. He was kneeling over me. His mouth was moving but I could not hear what he said.
My brain was foggy and it felt like every sense was coming in too late. The air smelled burnt and when I felt something pressing against my back I realized it was the hand of the boy. That I still could not recognize.
Another man's face came into my line of sight. He looked older and had shorter blond hair. At least that is what I thought because there wasn't that much light. My body was picked up off the ground. There was something familiar about the younger boy. His name was on the tip of my tongue. Blue and red lights illuminated his neck and jaw. Before I could come up with his name my eyes closed and everything went silent.
The smell of lavender, cheap soap and antiseptic is the first thing I noticed when I slowly started to gain consciousness. With a little bit of effort I opened my eyes. Light streamed into the room from a window at my left. I heard footsteps coming down a hall towards the room I was in. I was in a giant hospital bed. The walls were an ugly light turquoise color. My upper body laid down against surprisingly soft pillows. So that I could clearly see what was happening around me. The door in the right corner opened.
“Xavier?” My voice sounded very different than normal. My throat was dry and my voice cracked in the middle of his name. He hurried towards me and sat down on a stool that was next to my bed. My eyes found the source of the lavender smell. A bouquet of lavender was on the plastic table next to get well soon cards, a pot of honey and a black book.
“You told me the smell calms you down. Everyone sent you something even Wednesday.”
I smiled at the kindness and looked back at Xavier, he was wearing his uniform, but without the blue and black striped blazer. Instead he wore a vest on top of it. I looked back at his eyes. He had a worried expression on his face and my smile dropped.
“What happened?” I asked. That seemed to bring him back out of his thoughts. He reached for a water pitcher and poured some water in a plastic cup and handed it to me. While I was taking a few sips he kinda filled me in on what happened. A crazy man from the past came back from the dead to kill all the outcasts. The sirens had used their song to get everyone out. But because my room was high up in one of the towers it probably reached me a little later. He didn't tell me every detail, but promised he would when I was healed enough.
Almost my entire right arm was covered in white bandages from the burns. A part of my hair was also burned. I had a concussion and a few other little wounds and bruises.
Xavier had found me in the hall after the crazy pilgrim was killed by Wednesday. I did not remember that part but I was conscious. I only had images in my head that were blue and red. Sadly Principal Weems was killed. He stopped explaining what happened at that point.
“I should probably let you rest now, your parents are coming later today. Everyone is going home tomorrow.” He said. “They- The rest of the semester is canceled. After, you know everything..” His shoulders dropped and he leaned his head against the bed.
It was silent for a while. The only thing I could hear were people passing the room we were in. Carefully I lifted my right arm and stroked his long hair. “Thank you.” I said after a while. The water had helped a little. He softly grabbed my hand and sat up. That is when I noticed the tears in his eyes.
“I thought you died.” The pain in his voice was clear. I did not know how to respond to that.
It seemed like he also did not expect one because he said: “I like you- I don't know- maybe even love you. But when I saw you laying there the only thing that was going through my mind was-” He took a deep breath and wiped a few of his tears away. I felt my own eyes water.
“I was just praying that you werent.” He coughed and his grip on my hand tightened. I didn't even notice the slight pain that went up my arm.
I was used to trying to lighten painful moments with my dumb humor. So the first thing that came out was.
“Well i'm glad that I'm not.” smiling at him. Xavier let out a laugh and wiped the rest of his tears away.
“But- yeah.. I like you too.” My voice suddenly more timid and shy. I had never confessed my feelings for someone. He leaned closer to the bed and pressed a kiss to my hand. And clutched it between both of his hands.
I forgot that we were in a public space for a moment and the door of the room opened. Xavier and I both looked as a nurse with a clipboard walked in. Her eyes went from him to me and again from him to me.
“I told you to call out when she woke up.”
Mr. & Mrs. Stark
Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, anal, oral, fear, manipulation, cheating, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your life is turned upside down. First by Tony Stark. Then Steve Rogers.
Characters: Stony x reader
Note: This if for I love you 3000 dark writing challenge 2022 . I chose Stony with the basement wife trope. This is my first time doing Stony and only my second full length Tony fic.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Mother Goose loves being a goose? Take care. 💖
[Italics are flashbacks]
Tick, tick, tick.
The wall stares back at you, your only companion as a hint of cleaner lingers, tickling your nose with artificial lilac. Your hands curve around the porcelain, the tea lukewarm in your neglect. All is as it should be. The kitchen is quiet and empty, every counter shining, every tile mopped and stringent.
You blow out between your lips as that urgent flutter rises in your chest. That feeling that never goes away. Anticipation, rather anxiety. Revery, rather, regret. How did you get here?
Stark Tower was eerie after hours but you often found comfort in the late nights. Forgotten in the lower floors to sort through the endless cycle of files and memos, there’s a peace that nestles deep in the heart of the bustling corporation. The shuffle of paper, the rustle of pages landed in the bin, others sent off in tubes. For a company known for innovation, the system was antiquated.
You capped another container and sent it up. The work kept your hands busy, your mind distracted. Menial work, nothing like those on the top floors. The suits and the heroes. Among the excitement of the next new Stark invention was the boss himself and his team of avengers. A tier unreachable to any other.
You were happy in your little nook. Your place. Where you belonged. It wasn’t much but you made enough for rent, you had insurance, and a few perks that made the day tolerable. You reached for your forgotten coffee and took a bitter swig. It was cold and stale, but it was free.
Tick, tick, tick.
You blink at the clock and look down at your tea. The subtle amber hue of steeped herbs. You stand up, the scrape of the chair’s feet blasphemous in the silence. Your heels click across the floor and you dump the tea down the sink, rinsing the residue with the faucet. You watch the water swirl down, a small cyclone draining into the pipes.
You put the mug aside and close your eyes. You hang your head as you clutch the edge of the sink and shudder. The sterile air is cold and unwelcoming. You can never settle. Not here.
You rose and cursed at the brim of your cup. Your hips ached from your awkward perch on the high stool as you sorted. The nights often saw you waddling off with a stiff back and cramped legs. You groaned as you rubbed your lower back and elbowed through the door into the hall.
You poured the coffee into the water fountain just outside and pushed down the knob to wash away the remnants. You dropped the empty cup in the bin against the far wall with a hollow thwop and pushed your neck back with a sigh. Your shoulders were knotted, tugging on one another each time you moved.
There was an echo of your footstep as you shuffled back to the mailroom. You paused and looked down the hall. The lighting is pale and painful as it stings your tired eyes. Night shift always had that sobering effect, the hyper awareness that chiseled away at your sanity. You shake your head and pull open the door, dipping back into the room laced with the scent of paper.
You drag your hand blindly across the counter and retrieve the mug, giving it a proper scrub before drying it and placing it in the perfect line of cups in the cupboard. You shut the door and back up, turning to face the purgatory of your existence. The static raises goosebumps on your skin.
You cross the room and look into the next. The plush couch, the large TV, the luxurious carpet, a wall of windows that almost seem real. It’s a dream, the home everyone would love. Everyone but you.
You walk around the couch and near the wall that looks out onto the city skyline. That gives the illusion of a high rise. You touch the LCD and shake your head. A dystopian simulation stands all around you. A cell made to look like paradise.
It was 4am. Actually, twenty minutes past. You’d lost track of time but wouldn’t clock the extra minutes. You just wanted to go home and fall into bed. A hot shower sounded nice but you didn’t have the energy for that.
You locked the mailroom behind you and spun to face the hall. That noise. That echo, just a second off the scuff of your sole. You looked down at your black sneakers, the fifteen dollar pair that would wear through in a few months. The flat inline that did nothing for your pain.
You took a breath and looked both ways down the hall before you set off down your usual route. The subway was empty around this time of day, the closest ramp sat behind Stark Tower. You wound down the twists and turns of the basement towards the rear exit.
Before you turned the corner, you heard a click, the gentle touch of metal on metal. You slowed as you peeked around and found nothing but the heavy door that led to the concrete stairwell. Sometimes the janitor was around, starting their shift, but you didn’t see their cart or any signs of cleaning.
You sighed and rubbed your eyes as your knapsack dangled from your right shoulder. You were tired, you were hearing things. You pushed through the door, the noise echoed up the floors above. Your shoes squeaked as you crossed the cracked floor, neglected for the upper tiers of the tower. Your foot never met the first step.
“Honey, I’m home,” Tony’s voice draws you back from the live stream of the cityscape. You back away and quickly go to meet him, forcing a laugh at his oft repeated joke.
You stand at the end of the hallway as you watch him. He grunts as he rolls his shoulders and smiles as he sees you. You rush forward to help him out of his suit jacket. He stops you before you can hang it and kisses your cheek, “honey, you okay?”
“Yes, sir,” you say as you turn and sling his jacket on the coat rack, “I just finished tidying up.”
“Ah,” he taps your ass softly, “good girl.”
You step away and fold your hands compliantly. He sits on the bench with the shelf of shoes below. You get to your knees and slip off his loafers, inserting them into the empty space beneath. He catches your chin as you sit back on your heels and makes you look at him.
“You’re so good to me, baby,” he strokes your chin with his thumb, “you look tired.”
“Oh, I…” you touch your cheeks and shy away, “I forgot to–”
“No, I don’t mind,” he grabs your jaw more firmly before you can pull away, “a natural beauty.”
“Thank you, sir,” you swallow.
“Baby, tonight is not about me, it’s about you.”
You blink. Your chest twinges. You know that’s never true. You stare and wait for his trick to unfold.
“Shhh, baby, please, it’s okay,” the voice tickled the shell of your ear as you writhed in his grasp, “don’t fight it. It only makes it worse–”
You clawed at the tails of his jacket as your feet hit the floor helplessly. You saw the odd bracelet beneath his sleeve and the sudden cloud of blue smoke that puffed from it. It seeped into your nose and flooded your head, eyes itchy and mouth dry as you were forced to inhale the mist.
“Alright, it’s okay,” he kept his arm around your neck as he pet your head, easing you down to the floor as your body went limp, “just go to sleep. Shhhh, it’s alright.”
“Me?” You wonder as you bat your lashes. He drags his hand up to your cheek and gives a playful tap.
“Baby, go draw yourself a bath and relax,” he purrs as you remain kneeling between his knees, “as much as I love to see you in this position, you earned it.”
“Sir,” you breathe.
He offers his hand and you take it, cautious. He stands and pulls you up with him. His other hand crawls down your side and he hums as he eyes your dress.
“Can you believe it? One year. One whole year.”
You blanch and touch his hand as he squeezes your side. You nearly stagger at the revelation.
Tick, tick, tick. You hear the clock in the kitchen. How many hours, how many days, how many months. Not knowing is easier. You inhale deeply and let your hand trail up his arm, resisting the urge to shove him away.
“Happy anniversary,” you eke out, you know what he wants. He’s taught you exactly what to say.
“Aw, baby, happy anniversary,” he pulls you against him and crushes his lips against yours. He kisses you roughly, the trim along his chin tickles, as his warmth consumes you.
You woke up in darkness. Pitch black. You couldn’t see your own fingers as you waved them in front of your face. Naked but for the light weight around your neck. The panic quickly began to bloom.
“Baby, you’re awake,” the bodiless voice cooed, “ah, ah,” he tutted as you tried to sit up, only to fall back dizzily, “don’t go making too much fuss. You gotta give it time.”
“Wh–wh–” Where are you? What happened? You can’t put it into words as you’re paralysed by the throbbing in your head.
“One thing at a time, baby. This is level one.”
Level one, you blinked. Confused in the fog of your brain, the blackness, the voice that seemed to come from all around you.
“Level two is easier, but one is more fun,” he chuckled, “so baby, let’s start easy–”
“Who are you?” You whimpered as your body shook with the effort to sit up.
“Ah, I was about to get to that,” he taunted, “now, baby, don’t get so worked up. Your heart is pumping so hard, you’re gonna knock yourself out.”
“Baby, I’m warning you, it’s easy if you listen,” he dragged out the last word to a growl. “You can call me–”
“I’m scared,” your chest thumped hard as your ears rang, “please–”
Your muscles constricted suddenly and you crumpled onto the ground, prostrated on your back as the surge stretched every nerve to its limit.
“Baby, don’t make me do that again,” he warned as the tension slaked away and left you panting weakly, “for now, you will call me ‘sir’.”
The bathing pool stands against the wall, a great basin of steamy water, scented with rose as you dip into the depths. The heat should be relaxing but you can’t even remember what it feels like to relax. You lean against the wall and pull your knees up, bending your arms over your legs as you sit alone.
Tony surprises you as he appears, a bottle in one hand, two glasses balanced in the other. He puts them down on the tile that edges the tub and uncorks the bottle, a swell of foam rising over the top as he holds it away from him. He pours a full glass for both of you.
“Baby,” he lifts one and holds it out.
You push through the water to take it, “thank you, sir.”
You retreat and stare at the bubbly golden nectar. You were never a drinker but he never afforded you the indulgence. Maybe he’d allow you enough to forget. Or at least, accept.
“Thank you, baby,” he winks and peeks beneath the surface of the water, “you’re a sweet little thing.”
You smile, it’s brittle and painful as it dimples your cheek.
“Go on, have a drink, don’t wait on me,” he bids as he pulls free his tie, “we got all night.”
You carefully put the flute to your lips and daintily taste the wine. It’s sweet and sour at once. You nearly choke as you swallow it down. You drink deeper as the heat spreads through your chest.
You quivered and whined as another vibe rose from within. You don’t understand. It was hours of this. You reached searchingly down and still nothing. No, just your body. What was happening to you?
You felt along your cunt, dripping with your cum as a vibration pulses from within. You whimpered as you grazed your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. You hissed and poked your fingers inside, prodding, pushing as you tried to find the source. Still, you come up empty.
You rolled onto your back and cried out as you came again, body contorting with the raging tide of your climax. Your fingers curled into your palms and your toes bent until they would break. You gulped down air desperately, your head spinning as the rippling continued to course through you.
“Baby, you’re doing so good,” his voice taunted from the unseen speaker, “so good but you keep touching yourself, and I won’t be so generous.”
Tony slides up next to you, stretching his arm over your shoulders as he sits snugly against you. He clinks your glass with his and sips, his dark eyes clinging to you. You drink too and finish the last mouthful.
“Thirsty?” He muses. “As always.”
You look at your empty glass, “sorry, sir, I didn’t–”
“Go on, have some more,” he prompts, “it’s a special night, baby.”
You don’t want more. You already feel off-kilter but you know better than to say no. You wade over to the edge and fill your glass before you return to him. As you do, he directs you into his lap, his dick bobbing hard beneath you.
“Mmm, baby,” he reaches around you and takes your glass, “you’re delectable. I could eat you up.”
He presses the brim to your lips and tilts it. You swallow as he pours into your mouth, gulping as the deluge nearly chokes you. When the glass is empty, you cough and he draws it away, placing it beside his one the tile.
He hugs you from behind and kisses your shoulder, “missed you. Sorry I was gone so long but things… got a bit hairy.”
“Yes, sir,” you lean back against him as his hands crawl up your stomach and he fondles your tits. He groans as your ass rests on his twitching length.
“You know him,” he speaks against your skin and sighs, “always something to argue about. Not like you, baby. You know how much I love you, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” you lie.
“Fuck, it hurts how much I love you,” he snarls and nips at your neck, “I need you on me right now.”
“Sir,” your throat tightens as his hand wanders up to your neck.
You lift yourself slightly and feel beneath you. You angle his dick along your folds and spread your legs around his, easing down until you feel him in your stomach. You groan as your body tenses at the fullness. He squeezes your throat as his other hand grips your hip, forcing you down until it hurts.
“Good girl,” he rasps as he moves you slowly, guiding your pelvis in a torturous rock. “I’ve been thinking of this forever. One year…”
He growls and his hot breath fans over your shoulder and down your chest as he dips his head against you. He keeps his hold on your hip and his other hand drifts along your skin and down your arm. He takes your hand and raises it over the water, toying with the ring on your finger.
“Did you miss me?” He moans as he tilts you a little faster.
“Yes, sir,” you answer as you follow his lead, curling your fingers against his thigh, “I always do.”
“I wish it wasn’t so lonely down here for you,” he leans back, hanging his head back over the edge, “keep going.”
He pulls his hands back, bracing the tub as he groans. You keep your hips rolling, breath rising in shallow puffs as you fuck him. His deep voice drowns as he lets you take over, water slapping between your bodies.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he slaps your ass from the side, “you got a nice fucking ass. I think of that ass–” he grunts, “too much. Oh, god.”
You let out pathetic murmurs as he swoops his arm around you. He rubs your clit in circles as you work in his lap, knees against the porcelain as you grasp his thigh tighter.
“Fuck, baby, harder,” he begs as his fingers quicken on your clit, “yeah, like that.”
You obey, your voice underlining your frantic breaths. He snarls as the water splashes around your motion. You’re close as your walls clench him. He can feel it as he flicks you urgently. Your orgasm rolls over you but you fight through the pique to keep going.
“Mmm, you’re so good to me,” he presses on your bud until you whimper, “tell me to cum, baby.”
“Cum for me,” you huff, “sir, please, cum for me. You want to cum for me, don’t you?” You close your eyes as you recite your lines. “Are you bad? Are you going to cum in me?” He gurgles as you feel his body stiffen, “where do you wanna cum, sir?”
“Where do you want me to–” he rasps.
“Cum in me, sir, please,” you say through tight lips, “fill me up, please. I need it, sir.”
He spasm and latches onto your sides. He slams you down, over and over as he growls and fucks you from below. His pace is erratic and wild as the warmth coats your walls, slickening around him as he eases up. Finally, he stills you, pulling you back against his chest as he sighs.
“Mmm, I needed that,” he traces a line up your stomach, “but baby, I’m gonna cover every part of you in me.”
Just another day. Each like the last and the next. The only unknown is when he will be there. When he will come to cement the futility of your imprisonment.
There's never much to do. It's just you, you don't make much mess, and he doesn't leave much for you to clean up beyond yourself.
You pace as you usually do. By the books on the shelves you couldn't read for the reminder of what you'll never have again. The same reason the television stays black. The easel and paints that you only used once. The puzzle books you can't focus on enough to finish one riddle. The half-done knitting project. The evidence of your addled existence all around.
Click, click, click.
Your heels keep a tempo on the floor, holding pace with the ebb and flow of your thoughts. Slow, then fast, then stilling for just a moment as you turn back.
Click. Not a heel. Click. At the door. Click, click, scratch, beep, beep, beep.
You go to the doorway and peek around the plaster. The door shifts, shakes, then opens. You hide behind the plaster quickly. It can't be real. You've finally snapped.
The door whispers to a stop as he steps inside, his sole soft on the floor. You hold your breath and listen, not daring to poke your head out again. The gentle friction of some object moved and put back.
You step out of one shoe at a time and bend to pick them up. The rustle of fabric, a careful inspection of the coats by the door, for decoration alone. You don't need them, you never go out.
You cautiously tiptoe away as his footfalls advance down the hallway, closer. You scurry into the bedroom, panic tying your nerves in clusters as you look around. What do you do?
You roll open the closet and pull it shut swiftly as you spin inside. You slip on between the dresses hung on hangers and watch between the slats as the muffled noise of his invasion draws closer and closer.
He lets out a long exhale as his shadow skews over the hardwood.
"I can hear you," he utters to the air, "you're heartbeat. Come out."
You close your eyes and push yourself to the back of the closet, swallowed by the fabric around you.
"I know you're afraid. Your heart is racing. But I'm not here to hurt you." He steps inside and you quiver as you look through one eye, his blurry figure visible through the slat. "It's me, Cap? Steve Rogers."
He lets the declaration hang as he walks around the bed. He turns his back to you as he nears the night table, where an oval frame holds a picture of your and Tony. A picture where the sadness underlines your tight smile.
"The fuck…" he breathes.
"I'm not mad at you," he turns back, walking along the wall, towards the closet. "Not as much as him."
You smother your mouth as your tears trickle out. Tony's husband is just on the other side of the door and you're hiding. Hiding because he wouldn't believe you. Because you have nowhere to go and you learned long ago these heroes are anything but.
He pushes the door open so it folds, the wood snapping against itself. You sniffle as he shoves apart the hangers, unveiling you. His figure is shadowed as he blocks out the light of the bedroom.
"I'm sorry," you croak and cower.
"Come out," he says evenly, the anger barely restrained, "now."
You drop your shoes and step out. He moves back and watches you emerge. He looks you over as you shy away, slipping your hand behind your back as you see the golden band on his finger.
"Hey," he catches your arm and forces your hand up. His jaw ticks and he grits his teeth, letting go of you as he sneers, "fucking bastard. I knew it. And he was accusing me, but here–" he stops himself. "Let's go."
He grabs your wrist and drags you across the floor. You squeak as you try to dig in your heels, only causing your feet to drag painfully across the hardwood.
"Please, you can't-"
"Like hell I can't," he growls, "he wants to have a little pet, well too bad."
"No, please, listen," you plead as he forces you into the front room and marches you down the long hallway to the open door, "he won't let m–"
He tries to force you over the threshold and you cry out as a zap runs up your hand and down your spine. You violently rip away from him and hit the wall as you cradle your fingers, the ring searing you from the inside out. You sob and slide down to the floor.
"Christ! Tony!" He hollers as he squats and grabs your hand, "fucking–"
He tries to pull the ring off and another jolt surges in your, another shrill shriek as you swat him away.
"No, you can't–" you gasp as he lets you go and you keel over on the floor, weeping.
He huffs and stands up, kicking over the coat rack. It barely misses you as it falls and you sit up against the wall, breathless and babbling. You want to leave, you would do anything to leave, but you can't. He doesn't know how it hurts.
"Fuck!" He takes off his own ring and tosses it away, "fuck!"
"Always were the nosy type, Rogers," you wince as Tony’s voice echoes from the corners. You shrink as Steve turns, searching for him, "you spoiled the surprise."
"Surprise? Fuck you, Tony!"
"Now, now, honey, I couldn't give you an untrained pet, could I?"
"Bullshit!" Steve spins again, narrowing his eyes at a seam in the wall, "you've been fucking… her."
"I've been getting her ready for you," Tony calls back. The door suddenly shuts on its own and the lock whirs back into place. "Now don't go tryna run off on me just yet."
You curl up as Steve storms at the door and hits it with his shoulder. He does it several times and pulls at the handle. He snarls and kicks it, staggering back out of breath.
He pivots as he grips his hips and looks down at you, chest rising and falling heavily. He sighs and shakes his head. He slips down to sit on the floor beside the overturned coat rack.
"How long have you been here?" He asks.
You shrug, mopping your face with the back of your hands, "I don't know… a year… more."
"Do you want to be here?"
You stare at him, "that doesn't matter."
His blue eyes wander up the wall and he tilts his head back, "you're telling me."
You sit in silence, hugging your knees as you tremble and stare at his hand, fingers furling and unfurling. You hang your head and wipe your nose.
"I can make some coffee," you offer softly.
He flicks his fingers, exasperated, "sure, what the hell else am I gonna do?"
You approach Steve quietly and set down the cup. He doesn't acknowledge you and you go to grab the cream and sugar, placing it close to the mug.
"Do you want milk instead?" You offer.
He breaks his trance fixated on the fridge and looks at you, "no, it's fine…" he wraps his long fingers around the porcelain, "thank you."
"I made cookies yesterday. Or the day before. I don’t know."
His lips part, a moment of disgust. He blinks, "no, no, that's… jeez. Can you sit down?"
"No, I have to be ready. I have to…" you stop your manic rambling, "sorry, sir, I'm sorry."
"Don't. Don't apologise. Don't talk like that. What is wrong with you?"
Your lip quivers and your frown. Your cheek twitches as your legs shake, "you're supposed to tell me what's wrong."
He bites down and stands. You flinch as he touches your upper arms and guides you back to sit in another chair. He holds you there and reluctantly parts.
"Where did you come from?" He sits and leans an elbow on the table as he hooks two fingers through the handle of the mug.
"I…" you look at the table, the rippled knot in the wood and cover it with your hand, "I worked the mailroom at Stark Tower. Once. Before…"
"Mailroom?" He cringes, "you're the one–"
He puts his hand to his mouth as his forehead wrinkles. He slips his head down and braces his forehead. You chew the inside of your cheek and look away.
"No, I am," he sits back and grabs the cup, taking a deep gulp. He sighs and slams the cup down abruptly. The table jars and he stands, stomping out, "I can't fucking look at you."
You can't blame him. You hate yourself too. You hear him pacing in the hallway, then into the front room, something crashes and you drop your head down onto your arms as you slump against the table. This can't be real.
The door whirs and you sit up sharply, rocking the chair beneath you. Tony's voice flows down the hall.
"Honey, I'm home."
There's silence, then barreling steps down the hall. You turn and stare as Steve charges Tony back into the door as it locks. You don't move, paralysed as the blonde reels back and yowls.
"Come on, Rogers, you're not gonna bully me," Tony shows the odd skeleton contraption that wraps his hand, "why are you so ungrateful?"
"I told you, she's a gift. I'm surprised you waited for me to get started."
"Her? I don't–"
You can't see Steve, only Tony as he stands in the crux of the two doors.
"Tell me you don't want the sweet little thing," Tony taunts, "Rogers, I'd love to see it."
"Shut the fuck up. What did you do to her?"
"Everything that's going through your head at this very moment."
Silence. Tick, tick, tick.
"Tony," Steve mutters.
"Steve," Tony answers brightly, "you want her mouth first or–"
"I left her ass alone. For you, baby."
"Stop!" Steve shoves him and storms away, then back again.
Tony snickers as he regains his balance, "you're getting hard right now thinking about it. You want her. She's just your type, Captain. I should know."
"Stop, please," Steve begs, "we're married. You're–"
"I know you, all your little toys. Before–"
"I stopped," Steve blusters, "I stopped for you, Tony! What are you doing?"
"I'm spicing things up. Tell me it hasn't gotten stale."
"No shit. You got some girl locked up in this– this– bunker. Tony!"
"I can see your raging hard on, buddy, you don't gotta pretend with me–"
"Tony, I'm gonna fucking kill you. You are so–"
"Depraved? Fucked up? Kinky? You knew it. Let me hold her for you. Huh? I'll bend that pretty little ass over as you watch her suck my dick. Tell me you don't want it."
"Ton…" Steve rasps, "why?"
Tick, tick, tick. You look up at the clock. Waiting.
"Oh, honey," Tony sings, "come here and meet the Captain."
You push the chair back, scraping loudly on the floor. You get up and rigidly turn, striding out to the hallway. Tony leads you in front of him to face Steve.
"Look at her," he snakes his arm around to force your chin up, "precious, isn't she?"
Steve takes a deep breath. The veins in his arms bulge as his eyes narrow and his pupils dilate. His head twitches as he clenches his jaw.
"And isn't he just the most hunky piece of star-spangled beef you've ever seen, baby?" Tony purrs against your crown.
"Yes, sir," you answer diligently.
"See how well I trained her, Cap? The soldier in you should be proud. Huh? Call him Captain, honey. He likes that."
"Okay, Captain," you shudder as Tony steps back.
Steve moans as he shifts his weight, his hand rising to brush down his chest. Tony tugs down the zipper of your dress and the fabric slackens. He pushes it down, baring you as he shoves it past your hips. You're left naked and prone to the other man's gaze.
"Rogers," Tony says in a musical taunt as he grabs your waist and urges you forward. "Look at her."
Steve looks down and shakes his head. He hooks his thumbs in the loops of his jeans.
"She wants you, Rogers. What's she gonna do without the Captain's firm hand?"
Steve takes a quaking breath and sucks his teeth. He tilts his head from side to side like a horse trying to shake its reins. His cheek dimples as he nods.
"Take her to the bedroom," he whispers, "gimme a moment here."
"You heard him," Tony lowers his hand to give your ass a tap, "get all nice and wet for him, baby."
Tony grasps your shoulders and steers you around Steve, who turns to watch as you go, eyes hooded and heavy. A darker presence lurks in him, something frightening, like a tiger licking its chops. The man behind you chuckles and urges you on.
In the bedroom, your blood cools and the heat razes your skin. You know how it goes, it always ends. You just need to get through it. Bite your lip, ball your hands, hold your breath, any way you can.
Tony takes you to the bed, ordering you around as he moves your body to his whims. Ass up, hands on the mattress, waiting, quiet, compliant.
He tickles your ass as he lingers behind you. You wince as he turns and gropes you fully.
“Be good for him, baby,” he groans as he pushes his pelvis against you, “I know you can do it.”
“Yes, sir,” you watch the bedspread.
You hear the floor creak. Tony stops you from looking back as he lifts a knee onto the bed. He grabs your skull and tuts, climbing in front of you as he holds you in place. He hushes you and pets your hair.
"Baby, it's okay," he coos and looks over you, "top drawer."
You curl your fingers into the blankets as you lean on your elbows. Clothing rustles around deliberate steps, a shadow looming behind you as Tony hangs on, keeping you blind to the other man.
"Baby, why don't you use that pretty mouth of yours while he gets warmed up?"
You push a hand up, clumsily picking open Tony's slacks, a designer cut like everything else. You tug at his fly and spreading them wide. He raises himself on his knees and wiggles as you eases them down, pulling the elastic of his briefs away from his stomach.
You shove the fabric low enough to pull him over the top, stroking him as he groans. He caresses your temple as your hand travels the length of him and back down, his veins throbbing against your palm. You shift closer as press your lips to his tips, sliding back the skin as you open your mouth around him.
"Mmm, yes, baby, that's so good. See how good she listens, honey?"
Steve grunts and something cool touches your ass. You whimper around Tony but he keeps your head bobbing, hooking a hand around to feel himself in your throat. You gag but hold it back.
"Mmm, she's good with her mouth, but you'll have to let me know about her ass," Tony hums as he carries the motion with his hips, fucking your mouth steadily.
The coolness retracts and cracks across your ass sharply. You choke as your eyes prick, the leather lashing again, biting into your tender flesh. You claw at the bottom of Tony's shirt and whine. Another snap of the belt has you shaking as your hand runs up Tony's torso.
Your tears leak out again, your body constricting as you try not to bite down. Steve lays another, full force and your legs slip you as your body contracts. You pull off of Tony as the pain overrides your restraint.
"Get her," Steve's tone is deep and rocky, "hold her."
Tony pins you down by your shoulders and Steve puts his leg over your thighs. He whips you again, again, until you're bawling and dripping with tears. He stops and traces a welt, blood leaking out hotly.
He slides his leg off you and exhales. Tony lets go and takes the end of the looped belt, angling it over your head. It's drawn tight to the buckle, forcing your head up. You sniff as Tony cradles your cheeks.
"Get that ass up, baby," Tony coaxes, "I know you can do it."
You shakily bend your legs under you and lift yourself. You hold yourself up on all fours as Steve backs away. Tony pushes a thumb against your lip and pokes inside your mouth.
A slippery cold trickle glides down between your cheeks and you flinch. Something lands beside your leg as Steve's hands spread across your ass. He dips his fingers down to smear the lube over your puckered hole. You tighten as he tickles you, playing and prodding, teasing as if he might delve further at any moment.
"I'll take a lot more for me to forgive you," Steve pushes his thumb against your ring, stretching you with the thick digits as you whimper.
"This is a start, isn't it, Rogers? I could never be that perfect little homemaker."
Steve growls and urges his finger deeper and you bite down on Tony's knuckle, the intrusion burning painfully. You suck on his thumb and bat your lashes, rolling your eyes back against the deluge.
"I didn't fucking lie."
"Not about this," Steve grits, pushing in and out. "Hey, doll, you better loosen up."
You blow out as Tony slides back his hand to hold your chin. He looks down at you and winks, "Cap can be a big softie, if you let him."
Steve slips free of your ring and steps up, inching you back on the bed. His dick brushes along the curves of your ass and he angles it down between your cheeks. You gulp and flick your lashes up.
"Take it easy on her, can't have you breaking her right away," Tony warns.
Steve sneers as he edges along your ring and sets his feet. He leans in as you whimper, slowly opening for him. He doesn't let up, forcing himself deeper with short thrusts. You shriek with the horrid strain and reach back as you try to push him away with your fingertips, meeting only air.
He bucks into you completely and you cry out. Tony shushes you and grips your jaw, pushing you up to only your knees at the edge of the bed. Steve clutches your hip as his other hand explores your torso. He rocks against you, long, torturous thrusts.
You wheeze through your teeth, gnashing down as the agony stirs bile at the back of your throat. Tony cradles your face in his hands, resting his forehead against yours.
"Baby, you're doing it. Shhhh, you're doing so good. Isn't she, Captain?"
"Yeah," Steve says airily, speeding up so his pelvis slaps your wrought skin, "yeah, doll, so good."
Tony lets out a crackly chuckle, "see, baby, he loves you. Taking him so well. That's it. It won't hurt much longer."
You whimper and blubber as you clasp Tony's wrists. Your body vibrates around Steve as he pounds harder, harder, fingertips jabbing into your hip. He snarls and brings his hand to your throat, pulling you away from Tony.
Your eyes loll as he forces your head up, squeezing until you choke. You feel the bed shift and Tony's figure wisps by as he goes to stand behind his husband.
"That's it, Cap, that's how you do it. You see," Tony reaches around and pulls you back to your limit, "I need that special touch."
"Don't fuck around," Steve chuffs, "you're next."
"Counting on it," Tony slaps Steve's ass he he carries he eager motion, "better save some energy."
"I can do this all day," Steve drags you back and your feet fall to the floor as he bends you over the bed, body flush to yours, "til death do us part, honey."
ignore me for spacing out and stalling on modern!aemond
POSSIBLE SPOILERS, CONTINUE WITH CAUTION
but also take ghost!aemond after the war and the dance of the dragons. his soul finding solace in the place he felt the most serene when he was living
it took many years after the war between the blacks and the greens, being a direct decendent of prince daeron, great-grandchild of rhaenyra targaryen
in your youth, you swore you saw whisps of long blonde hair breezing past you in the corridors, catching you when you tripped but disappeared before you could finish blinking
you constantly told your father, god forbid even your mother brushed it aside as some form of your overactive imagination but you knew in your tiny bones that there was someone else aside from your siblings residing in the castle
it wasn't until you were old enough to lurk the castle on your own did you see him. a tall, slender man standing by the fireplace in the library that was meant to be offlimits per your fathers request.
"who are you?" you would ask him while his back was turned to you, only glancing at the slender curve of his jaw, the natural upward curl of his lips, the ever so faint peek of his dimples as a single violet eye glanced at you
he said no words as he silently glanced at the many spines that lined the shelves, his hands tightly woven behind his back, almost itching to touch one of the many literatures that even he had collected in his time of living
you constantly watched the types of literature he seemed to linger around, the philosophical texts catching your eyes, along with the history books that seemed untouched with the dust collecting around them.
"shall i read to you?" you asked, not waiting for an answer as you pulled a book from it's place, blowing off the dust as Aemond watched you curiously, eyes flickering between you and the fireplace as he remained planted in his spot.
The Tales of Old Valyria, his favorite.
it had then become a routine, you visiting the library when duties had been attended to, your eyes lighting up when you saw his slender back from your spot at the doorway. you had learned he was a man of very few words, only responding in gutteral hums and grunts in between words, but often tore his eyes away from the fire to glance at you when you stopped reading aloud
"you can sit, you know. you must be exhausted standing around for hours." you offered one time as aemond's bittersweet smirk grew on his face.
"not one for small conversations.. noted." you would whisper as you reached for another book, a newer one the maesters had brought in to graciously add to the collection you had now deemed as yours
"the song of fire and blood, they call it. about the legacy of the Targaryens... well not only us but others in the seven kingdoms. it is.. my current favorite. my father says it was about our ancestors, rhaenyra and her family." the very name causing aemond's body to tense as he looked at her from the corner of his eye
"my favorite is aemond targaryen, however. he's not entirely mentioned but-"
"he's considered a monster. maimed by his own kin. kinslayer. what much is there to warrent being a favorite?"
the first words he ever muttered to you. self-deprecating, loathing, bitter.
"you would be too if you were regarded only as the second son."
it was then aemond warmed up to you more, standing closer when you would read of their family's history, his history, interjecting every once in a while to put in his own comments, never having the heart to confess that it was truly him that had lived, breathed, killed in those moments.
not with the way you glanced at him like he held your entire world in his hands. not when he saw the sparkle in your eye when you greeted each other with fond smiles, the disappointment when you were called away, when you told him about your day as you twisted flower crowns for him with flowers you had stolen from the gardens stating 'if you detest the sun and the bushes then i shall bring it to you!' followed by his ghostly hand brushing through the small gift. reminding him once again that he was no longer with the living.
and suddenly the fire that roared in the fireplace felt colder than it already was
"it was said that aemond flew on the back of vhagar and brutally avenged his lost eye by slaying his nephew Lucerys Velaryon-"
"it was accidental."
"that he brutally stabbed both of lucerys' eyes out as they washed out on the shore."
"that never happened-"
"you speak as if you were there."
"and if i was? would you turn and flee? call me a monster like the maesters had?!"
"i- i don't understand.."
"no. you wouldn't. i wouldn't expect anything less from the third born child of a pathetic king."
he didn't know why- if it was the resentment in the bloody maesters that had painted him as a kinslaying craven, that he fathered bastards with a bastard witch of the strongs, that he.. he couldn't be there to grab your arm and prevent you from leaving the very room he was trapped in.
he cursed every single day you hadn't visted the library, watching each log slowly burn as he tried his best to release his anger, punching at the shelves, kicking the chairs, but nothing. not a single clatter besides the wind that whipped with every one of his swings.
only then did his head turn when he heard your quiet footsteps after weeks. not bothering to turn to face you as you both stood in silence.
"lucerys velaryon had stolen the eye of aemond targeryen on the night of laena valeryon's funeral. he had stolen the dragon, vhagar in the dead of night when everyone had been asleep and their kin followed and.. incidents followed."
"what are you talking about?"
"he had grown resentful of the bastard children of his half-sister, knowing fully well their father had bent and broken every rule imaginable and got away with nothing but a slap in the wrist. he grew resentful that he was maimed, considered a cripple, a spare to their eldest when he continued his duties for his family and for the realm while his brother fathered bastards, slept with any woman that could breathe with no reprocussions and was still crowned king."
"the slaying of lucerys velaryon was an accident that enthrailed consequences he could not bear.. he died as he lived. cold, angry.. alone." he whispered as he finally turned to you, finally stepping closer as he slowly took off the eyepatch adorned on his face, the bright sapphire still shining as the day he was blessed with it.
"but nothing felt as.. cold and alone as it had when you were absent. i would sacrifice lifetimes, live through those excruciating events again if i knew they all led me back to you.."
"what are you saying?"
"the aemond targeryen lived in blinded spite to all those who wrong him, but the aemond targaryen now.. wishes he lived to be closer to you." he whispered, a hand reaching out to caress the back of his fingers along your cheek, flinching when it did nothing but leave a cold touch past your skin.
it only came crashing down then that you realized, through all the corrected sentiments, the backhanded comments he had made whenever you read to him, he was there, and now that he had found a purpose worth living for, it was not his purpose to bear.
"time and the gods had been cruel to us. you.. you will soon marry, grow old and mother beautiful.. beautiful children. but as you read from them the history books like you had for me.. it matters not the legacy i had left behind, i could be a figment of myth, of imagination, i could not care less what others have thought of me. but what matters to me is that you never forget me, my sweet sapphire."
it sucks im so sorry
Prompt: you can try to go home, but it will never feel the same
anon i know you probably wanted some daniel returning to redbull angst with this one, but i am nothing if not diaspointing lol, so have a self absorbed 'in that iron ground' sequal i wrote instead.
cw: parental death, angst, speculation on what it means to be the 'biological' parent or not of a child
“Here you are.”
Max’s voice comes from behind him, but Daniel doesn’t turn from where he’s watching the gentle rise and fall of their daughter’s chest, the way the colourful lights from the mobile dance across her face in the darkened room.
“I’ve read they decided those types are bad for babies now,” Michelle had told him earlier, in that critical, been there, done that parent way, with just a healthy dose of big sister smugness thrown in, as she’d watched him attach it to the crib. It’s so old. Daniel wonders if it wasn’t the same one he slept in.
Like father, like daughter.
“I thought you had got lost on your way from the bathroom.”
Daniel still doesn’t look up, but he hears the telltale ‘click,’ of Max switching off the baby monitor. Daniel has joked, more than once, about how Max had it surgically attached to his hip 6 months ago, when she first came into their world. Red-faced, and kicking, and the best decision they ever made.
He comes to stand beside Daniel.
Everybody else is downstairs. It’s past ten but even the kids are still up. Izzy is ‘waiting for Santa,’ and Isaac is shooting Daniel eye-rolls over her head, as though to prove he’s a grown-up because now he knows the truth. Max has been quizzing Michelle endlessly on the pro’s and con’s of different milk warming systems, and his mum has been sat listening with her new boyfriend—Tim’s—hand on her knee, and Daniel just-
He just needed a minute.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, not wanting to disturb Emilia, though anyone would know she was Max’s daughter by her ability to sleep through an earthquake alone, “I just-“
“Wanted a moment?” Max supplies, because of course he knows when it comes to his family.
Daniel nods. Emilia makes a little noise, a groan, like she’s thinking about protesting their loving stares, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“It’s weird,” Daniel eventually gets out. “Coming home, and there’s another man sitting with my mum on the couch.”
But it’s not even about that, not really. Tim is nice, he makes his mum laugh and Michelle tells him regularly over the phone, “she’s really happy, Daniel. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile so much since dad.” He shakes Daniel’s hand and asks him about his new job with the Redbull junior team, and when his mum sent Emilia her first party dress in the post, she had signed his name right next to ‘grandma’ on the card.
Besides, if Daniel ever- He’d want Max to find somebody else too. Even if the idea of it makes Daniel sick to his stomach, makes him want to do something crazy like tattoo his name onto Max’s chest, the thought of him being alone forever is worse.
Max’s hand comes to cup the back of his neck, to rub his thumb over the muscle that he knows aches more these days than it used to.
“When my mum got her first boyfriend, I did not like it also,” he admits, though it doesn’t sound like a feeling he is shying away from. “I know it is not the same, but I think always it is strange to see your mum with somebody else."
It is, but maybe what’s stranger is the way it took Daniel getting to the ranch for him to realise that his dad wouldn’t be here for his daughter’s first Christmas. He’d spent the first evening looking helplessly around the dinner table at everybodys faces, foolishly stunned to learn that the sudden life of her couldn’t raise his father from the ground.
“Sometimes I still have to remember,” he admits, because it suddenly feels too shameful to keep a secret. “That he’s- That my dad is dead.”
He forces the words past his teeth, eyes fixed on the slight purse of Emilia’s lips. It’s something he’s been practicing with his therapist; not shying away from saying the truth. You’d think that after five years it would feel like that, but Daniel still finds there are days when his fingers twitch to call the contact he still can’t bear to delete from his phone book.
From the corner of his eye, Daniel can see Max nod but stay silent, like he’s been given a particularly tricky problem that he’s trying to find a solution for.
“He was here for longer than he has not been here,” he eventually says, like the hole in Daniel’s life is something that can be plugged with logic.
“True,” Daniel agrees anyway, because he knows that Max is trying, and it’s unfair to expect him to have the answers when Daniel doesn’t even know what he is asking for.
The closest thing he can think of is, ‘do you think my dad would still have loved her even without any of my DNA,’ but it’s a cruel thing to ask Max, who so desperately wanted Daniel to be the biological father. Besides, it’s not like Max would know what to say to that anyway.
“Also,” Max continues, a hesitant edge to his voice now, “of course it will be more sad this time. To bring Emilia and know he is not here to see her.”
That’s closer. Daniel can feel it, the way the words pang in his chest.
Yet, to hear it while looking down at his daughter’s sleeping body, it crests an entirely different wave of fear inside him.
There will be a time when this is her, when she’ll be spending Christmas night in the house where she grew up, but that she no longer lives in, and Daniel won’t be there to see her open her presents in the morning. It’s ridiculous really. He’s never spent one holiday with her yet, and he’s already worried about the ones he’ll miss.
“When me and Michelle were kids, on Christmas night my dad would cover the floor in flour,” he begins to recount, the words made of his desire to bridge the gap between what his father was to him then, and who Daniel is now. “He would make footprints in them, all the way from the chimney to the tree and back again, for us to find in the morning. He did it for Isaac too, made Santa’s footprints, we- We should do that for Emilia, when she is old enough.”
When he looks at Max, he’s smiling. Softly, the hue of the mobile turning the tips of his mousy hair golden. He nods, reaching for Daniel’s hand, and sliding his fingers into the four gaps between Max’s feels like coming home more than boarding a plane ever has.
“I hope I am a dad like yours,” Max whispers. The and not like mine hangs so heavy in the air, Daniel doesn’t need for him to say it to hear it.
Still, he answers him-
“I hope we are better than both of them.”
BEHOLD. the cabinetduo fic rec master post featuring nearly 40 fics! these are primarily cabinetduo-centric (meaning that both q and tubbo are main characters and the story highlights their dynamic specifically) but there are a handful of exceptions which are marked. there is also a page for fics i haven’t read yet but have been eyeing!
feel free to suggest/recommend me cabinetduo fics if you know of one that isn’t on here :D i’ll try to update it every so often!
*through gritted teeth* the first draft is supposed to be bad the first draft is supposed to be bad the first draft is supposed to be bad the first draft
'Uchiha Demon Hunter' art commissioned by @wisiaden
There will be a post by @wisiaden's fic for this specific fanart! Sorry if I posted too late but belated happy birthday to you!
I'm opening commissions today! You can message on this account, Thank you!
Stain Me (Loki x Female Reader Drabble)
Just a quick drabble inspired by the song Holy Water by Zippermouth. This is only my second time ever posting any writing on Tumblr so sorry if it’s kind of bad or rubbish 😅
Loki looked up at the woman hovering above him, her fingertips caressing and tracing every line, ever scar, every shadow of muscular definition on his bare torso. She inspected his form like he was a priceless art piece, with her gaze so fond and warm he thought he could burn up in her eyes. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion, to be doted upon and admired so earnestly, that he would surely be punished for it. It had to be some kind of sin, for someone as marred and dirty as him, to have won the affections of one so pure.
“Don’t…” he uttered softly, his hands trembling almost imperceptibly as he reached for his lover’s wrists, halting her movements.
Her eyes snapped to his, filled with confusion and concern. Concern. Concern for one so unredeemable as him. It was too much to bear.
“What?” she questioned. The fear that she had overstepped some sort of boundary shone plain as day on her features. “Loki, what’s wrong?”
He let out a shaking breath, tense shoulders shuddering as he exhaled. “You don’t want this,” he told her. “You do not want me.”
She cocked her head innocently, signalling she did not understand. The God could read her like a book, and he could virtually see the thoughts that would be whirring through her mind at that moment. Have I not shown you otherwise? Is this not enough? How can I love you more? How can I prove my love to you? Silly girl, if only she knew of the wretched acts he had wrought in his time, the pain and suffering he had caused, she would see the error in choosing him to love.
Of course, Loki knew she was aware of his past transgressions. There were few who had not heard tale of his evil deeds. But surely she did not truly comprehend the magnitude of his blackened past. For if she did, there was no way she would have given her heart to him as she had chosen.
“My dear heart,” he continued, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the inner side of her wrists, “I am not a creature you wish to align yourself with. I am…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I am damaged, corrupted. You, who are nothing but kind and good, should not dirty yourself with the likes of me. If you are the holiest, most crystal clear of waters, then I am not but a murky, muddy pool, stained with the blood of my sins. You should not-” his words were silenced as she placed her lips upon his in a kiss that was hard and urgent, one which she did not pull away from for several seconds.
When she finally released his lips, her eyes were dark, swirling with something Loki could not quite place. For the first time, she was unreadable. “Do not preach to me of what I should or should not do, O God of Mischief,” she told him firmly, her voice deep and sultry with a passion the God had never before seen. She placed her hands upon his face, delicate fingertips caressing his sharp cheekbones. “I have chosen with which waters I wish to bathe. I would rather drown within your pool than dare to swim in any other.”
He took pause to gaze into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation, even the smallest of embers that would suggest she was not strong in her conviction. He found none.
“You may never be clean again,” he warned her in a husky timbre.
She merely smiled, her lips ghosting over his as she uttered two words. “Stain me.”
Loki was stunned into silence, his lover taking the moment to kiss him again with heated fervency, a kiss that led into a long night of irrepressible need and unbridled passion.
Perhaps if he were destined to burn within her love, then she was destined to drown in his.
26112022 - Wednesday (Netflix)
'Enid's number.' is the first thing she texts as soon as she is back in the cold, comforting embrace of her own quiet bedroom. And, 'Also, Eugene's.'
'Hey to you, too.' comes Xavier's dry reply, followed by a snarky, 'Bold of you to assume I have them.'
Wednesday rolls her eyes and sighs. Boys are so vexing, even those who know the correct way to play hide and seek, and who have good taste in drawing materials. 'I know you have them.'
It takes Xavier a few minutes (too many for Wednesday's liking, she shall have to find an inventive way to torture him for it when school starts again), but he does send the requested numbers. 'Hopefully, this isn't the last time I hear from you,' he follows with, and Wednesday huffs.
'You'll just have to wait and see.'
She saves the two numbers and lays the phone on her desk for the time being.
She has more important things to do, now that she's back home, like catching up on torturing Pugsley (she'd had some new ideas before her parents shipped her off to Nevermore), and seeing to the state of her plants and blades.
She'll text Enid when she'll have the time.
"You've had my number for a week? Then why haven't you texted until now? Or called? We could have Facetimed."
This is why, Wednesday thinks to herself, though this time, she manages to keep herself from rolling her eyes.
Enid is… Enid. And as much as Wednesday feels like vomiting at the mere sight of all those bright colours, somehow, she doesn't want to see the other girl change. It's annoying.
It's vexing in a whole different way.
"I have been busy," she answers, and it's not a lie, she has been busy with all sorts of things. She's had an idea for another novel, for one thing, and the time to write uninterrupted (with the exceptions of Pugsley's miserable attempts at murder).
Enid hums, like she always does when she doesn't fully believe what Wednesday is saying (so vexing, honestly, when Wednesday speaks nothing but the truth), before she says, "Fine, I guess I'll forgive you this one time," in her sunshiney voice. "But! I will get you at least on Insta once the new semester starts," she adds, and it sounds more like a threat than anything.
Wednesday takes it as a challenge.
("Can you play me something?"
"Over the phone? At this hour? Who are you and what have you done with Enid?"
"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Most of the family's away for the weekend and it's so quiet around here that I can't sleep. So. Will you?"
"Alright. I guess."
Ginny has it handled
Written for Day 25 of @hinnyfest
Prompt: Molly and Arthur notice Hinny
I had a few ideas for this one but I decided to stick to this since it's different from what I have tried before
Molly could not help it, losing one of her children had caused her to watch the other six like a hawk. Sure the war was over, but fear ran through her veins and she found herself counting the redheads and falling one short every time.
That’s also how she noticed when Harry finally made an appearance in the Great Hall, Ginny seemed to have sensed it without looking. The way she disregarded everyone in there, looking at Harry and going straight for him.
Sure, she had known they had dated but she had not grasped the depth of their connection until now. The way his eyes lit up as he spotted her, the genuine relief as she walked to him. The way his arms curled around her tenderly as if she was the only thing in the world. The way she leaned into him like they had been together for a century. How her daughter gazed up at him, her eyes warm and loving and they did not speak a word as Harry’s hand landed on Ginny’s cheek and kissed her forehead.
She almost felt bad for looking, it felt like a private moment but the two did not seem to care or notice the hundred eyes on them.
Arthur touched her hand softly and she looked up at him.
“Did you know?” she asked him.
Arthur glanced over her at the couple. “I didn’t realise how much …” he trailed off and his eyes landed back on Molly. “They go together well, don’t they?”
Molly couldn’t help the tears brimming in her eyes. Arthur pulled her into a hug and patted her back.
“Don’t overwhelm him,” her husband advised.
How he had guessed she had the strong urge to engulf Harry in a hug when he came up to the table, she did not know.
“We should make sure he is alright,” Mrs Weasley told Arthur, at the very least they should do that.
Arthur smiled at her. “I think Ginny has got it covered, dear.”
She turned back around to see her daughter shamelessly snogging Harry, still in the middle of the hall. Her brows shot up and she cleared her throat. “I suppose she does.”
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, bath sex, p in v, unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, fluffy smut, established relationship, Eddie getting to chill out, dirty talk, creampie, soapy boobs, winter themed porn, lots of grinding, this is really just mushy fluffy porn so yeh
Word Count: 3,361
Author’s Notes: Please pretend that bath sex is not a logistical nightmare and that bubble baths aren’t terrible for vaginal health. The cosy, comfy vibes were too good to pass up so here we are :)))
Hawkins always got indescribably cold by the middle of November. Snow would pile up on tree branches and sidewalks - becoming less of a Christmas card backdrop and more of a slushy inconvenience.
That was definitely the case at Forest Hills Trailer Park. The dirt track roads were frozen solid and covered in a thick layer of powder and wintery mush. A lot of the park’s residents took turns digging out sections of the roads since everyone still had to get to work. Winter wouldn’t stop the likes of Wayne Munson from making it to his Friday night shift.
Eddie and Wayne had been shovelling out Patty, their hippy elderly, neighbour’s grey hatchback when you showed up at their trailer. Friday night was date night, and the shitty weather meant it would be an evening in Eddie’s trailer.
Both you and Eddie had planned an extremely relaxing night since the week had been hell for you both. Eddie had been working late at the craft store because the holiday rush was beginning - he‘d kept you updated on his projects that mainly consisted of measuring fabric and lifting all of the heavy boxes. You had been dealing with an influx of school kids at the library - rushing to get books for their last-minute assignments and begging you for help finding specific titles. So, a little indulgent date was much needed for the pair of you.
Gloria, one of your coworkers, had gifted you with a small Christmas “spa” hamper as a thank you for all your hard work. It consisted of peppermint bath oil, vanilla body wash that doubled as bubble bath, and a cocoa butter lotion. It was all super nice stuff which made you feel a little bad for only having Christmas cards to give to your colleagues. However, the festive kit led to you and Eddie agreeing on your main date night activity.
A really really long bath. He was the one to suggest the idea after you gushed over the gift - the suggestion was mostly innocent, surprisingly. Honestly, you both just wanted to be all cosy and gross in the privacy of his home.
That’s how you found yourself submerged in an amazing soapy bath that smelled like heaven. Only your face was poking out from the bubbles as you breathed deeply - floating and listening to the muffled sounds of Eddie rummaging around his room for tapes. He said he’d made a tape, especially for the evening, making you melt even further into the minty bliss. Your sinuses were going to be so clear after this.
Eddie barged into the steamy bathroom in his usual loud, sort of clumsy way. The tile floor was more slippery than he’d anticipated so he had nearly crashed into the room. You poked your head up and gave him a little wave from the bubbles - hair soaked and a touch of foamy stubble on your jaw.
Once your sleepy eyes focused on him properly, you saw that he was butt naked while fiddling with his stereo on the counter.
You leaned on your forearms on the edge of the bath. “I don’t tell you enough how nice your butt is.” You sighed, smiling up at him when he glanced at you.
“I’d say it’s a little better than “nice”, at least “premium goods” status.” Eddie huffed jokingly, now slapping his stereo in an attempt to get the tape deck to stay closed. He was a firm believer in if you smacked technology around a little and showed it who’s boss then it would work. “Babe, you’re objectifying me while I’m trying to set a romantic mood, all for you.” He shot you an exaggerated pinch glare over his shoulder.
In reality, he really liked when you ogled him and made him feel hot. “This is a small bathroom and your ass is right at my eye level. Get over it, dude.” You smirked, sinking back into the warm water.
“-I bet you say that to all the boys,” purred the voice from the stereo. Damn, Eddie knew how to set a weird, but really good mood. Meat Loaf wasn’t exactly his usual music choice, but he knew you loved a good ballad.
“Hey hey! See? A few loving taps and viola, she sings.” Eddie grinned, turning to you with a flourish of his arms, “kinda like you.” He sniggered as you splashed some water at him.
“Hurry up and get “the goods” in the water. I’ll give you a head massage.” You sighed, letting your body sink back into the water.
Eddie laughed again, softly, and dipped his foot in the water - testing the temperature so it wouldn’t burn his balls. He slowly sank down, the warm water being a stark contrast to the chilly trailer outside the bathroom.
“By all means, take your time there.” You chirped, forming a bubble beard while you watched him. Eddie was so pretty in the steamy, honey light. A small sheen of sweat painted his chest, and he couldn’t hold back a giggle when he saw your foamy facial hair.
“Once I’m balls deep, I’ll be all good. Don’t rush me.”
You snorted, “not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Give me like… ten minutes and you might be so lucky, sweetheart.” Eddie winked, finally sitting down fully in the bath with a deep, satisfied groan. The sound shooting down your spine and fuelling the budding ache between your thighs. “I’m a fucking genius for this idea. God.” Another groan faded into a purr.
“You’ve really outdone yourself. Using my work present for your benefit. What a gentleman.” You sniggered, hiding behind the suds when he lightly kicked your leg.
“Let me soak in peace, woman.” He grumbled, trying to hide his sleepy smile and failing.
You watched Eddie quietly and full of adoration. His eyes were closed and his face had relaxed significantly, any harsh lines or fatigue melted away with the steam from the bath. Eddie allowed himself to slide fully into the water, soaking his wild curls and pushing his bangs out of his face. He started working his calloused fingertips into his scalp. You watched, unblinking, as his large brown eyes rolled back into his skull and he sighed.
Eddie had said he needed ten minutes but you weren’t going to be able to wait that long.
You wiped away your soap beard. As much as Eddie adored you being a goof with him, you knew when it was time to get serious. Both of you knew where the night was heading, so you may as well speed things up a little. The cosy air and the melodic cries of Meat Loaf were perfect.
“Eds? C’mere. Said I’d give you a head massage, and I’m a lady of my word.” You stated, giggling as he quickly started to twist himself around, making the porcelain squeak.
Eddie situated himself between your legs and rested his wet hair on your chest. The bastard even started twiddling his thumbs while he waited for you to start, “I’m ready when you are.” He shot you a bright, toothy smile, swaying a little to really drive home his oh-so-innocent intentions. Eddie was always such a tease.
You gathered some of the vanilla and peppermint-scented foam and started lightly massaging Eddie’s scalp. Your blunt fingernails slightly scratched him as an added luxury, but mostly because you wanted to make him feel extra special. Eddie’s hair was such an integral part of him. Not only was it for his own self-expression, but he fucking loved when you played with it and pulled it just enough that a shot of pain coursed through him.
“That good?” You whispered, one of your hands wandering down his chest to caress his spider and demon head tattoos. The spider was your favourite. One time when he had picked up from a party after getting too drunk, you’d named it Edith, and kissed her goodnight. Eddie had damn near melted under you when you did that. You were just too sweet to him sometimes.
“I’d even go as far to say it’s nice.” Eddie breathed. The feeling of you rubbing his hair and scalp was the greatest high he could ever experience.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, pretending to be annoyed. “Change your tune and I’ll keep this hand going lower?” You breathed into his ear, your wandering hand now grazing the wispy dark hair on his belly.
“See, I don’t think you’re gonna stop either way.” Eddie groaned. He started nuzzling his head against your tits, leaving a few small pecks between them. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later.” He sang.
“Aw, aren’t you just my best guy.”
“Would hope that I’m your only guy - oh f-fuck.”
You finally traced your hand down Eddie’s thick cock. He twitched under your touch, your pruned fingertips dancing along the prominent veins on the underside of his shaft. Eddie’s pleased whining and soft panting showed you that he wanted you to wrap a hand around him and drive him crazy. But your goal was lower.
Your warm hand caressed and massaged his balls as he let out a surprised moan. “God. Harder.”
The pressure of your hand increased as you rolled his heavy sack in your hand. “You’ve been saving these for me, haven’t you?” you purred, Eddie having shifted to starting mouthing at your hard nipples. “Neglecting your balls when you're jerking off because they’re all for me, yeah?”
“They need a woman’s touch, what can I say - shit, yeah, don’t stop.” Eddie groaned, almost shouting. Your hand that had been massaging his scalp was now slowly pumping at his cock. All teasing, soft touches - you knew it wasn’t enough for him. Eddie liked to be handled with an intimate roughness that only you could give him.
Eddie’s large hands were moving everywhere. Massaging your legs, squeezing your arms and running up your neck blindly. The distinct warmth and softness of your body were addictive to him. You were the first person to let him touch you everywhere - no grimacing, no catch. Just encouragement and admiration. Said admiration came in the form of a low moan when Eddie’s fingers caught on a piece of your hair and tugged.
“Babe, babe. We gotta stop or I’ll blow my load too fast.” Eddie huffed, pushing himself up and back to his original position across from you. He held out his arms wide, gesturing excitedly for you to come to him.
You really loved how excited he still got when it came to you. In any scenario, he was always happy that it was you.
Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, tongue massaging yours just enough to drive you crazy - he always drove you crazy.
The flushed, hard head of Eddie’s cock rubbed against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap. “Fu-fuck yes.” Eddie groaned, pulling you down on him more. Your warm-up was one of his favourite parts. “You want your cock? You gotta wait, sweetheart. I’ve barely gotten my hands on you yet.”
You whimpered, hips still grinding with more impatience. “But you're all wet and warm.”
“And now I’ve got to get you like that,” Eddie chuckled with a smirk. “Do me a favour. Get some of the bubbles and play with your pretty tits for me?”
“You just wanna see soapy boobs.” You quipped, already gathering large handfuls of foam in your palms. The mint and vanilla scent had weakened, but it was still comforting.
“I do. Now, get to it.”
Eddie had moved one of his rough hands down to your aching cunt. Pinching your clit between two fingers, and rubbing it with his thumb.
God, yes. You could feel yourself becoming slick under Eddie’s touch. Your clit slipped under his calloused thumb as your wet hard nipples rolled between your fingers. Both of you released any and all noises that felt right. The needy moans and heavy pants harmonised with the lapping of the bath water. Eddie loved watching you play with your tits for him, applying just the right amount of grip to the soft mounds to make you whimper and hiss.
Such pretty, sensitive tits were a heaven he wasn’t sure he deserved, so he was going to make sure they were looked after.
“Someone’s having fun,” Eddie chirped, picking up the pace of his massage to your clit. God, he was evil. How were you going to hold a conversation under this level of pleasure?
“Woman’s touch, right?” You moaned and ground harder onto his hand, catching the hot tip of his cock at the entrance of your weepy cunt. Eddie whimpered and his smirk melted into a delirious smile.
The grinding, the moaning and the messy kissing continued for some time. Both of you basked in the intimate little world you had created in the steamy, trailer bathroom. There was nothing but time for relaxation and ecstasy - the night was still young and outside was just so cold, it was too horrible to think about.
Eddie had started to angle his hips and yours so that the head of his swollen cock prodded your hole. When your movements synced up perfectly, his tip slipped into you - providing a delicious tease.
Large hands were now groping and spreading your ass cheeks. The occasional short, sharp slap joined in. “Can I fuck you? Please. I know we got time, but I need it.” Eddie panted, his eyes laser-focused on your soapy tits that were in his eye line. “Promise you won’t be walking for the rest of the night. Fuck, rest of the weekend if you let me.”
Now that was a tempting offer. “If you get to be inside my pussy now, then you won’t be leaving any time soon.” You smirked, playing with his soaking hair and twirling it around your fingers.
Eddie didn’t respond to you. He lifted your hips up, thumbs massaging your love handles and slammed you back down onto his cock. Your gasp fizzled into mewling as Eddie started moving to grind into your sweet spot. He really wasted no time when it came to making you feel incredible.
“Aw, there she is.” He teased, one hand running up your back to tangle in your hair. “You were getting a little mouthy there. But I’m gonna help you turn that brain off, isn’t that right?”
“Mhmm, please.” The sensations coursing through your sweating body were exactly what you needed. Big hands tugging lightly on your wet hair, Eddie’s fat cock fucking into your g-spot and his growling breath tickling your chest. You needed to stop thinking for at least a little while. You needed Eddie.
Eddie needed you - maybe even a bit more than air at that moment. The embrace of your hot, spongey walls always had him reeling. You allowed him to see you in a vulnerable light, and he did the same. It was like a small weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t fully noticed was there.
“This pussy - my pussy. F-fucking god. Lean back for me, I wanna see you, pretty girl.” Eddie had started to work you on his cock, thrusting slowly and so deep into your cunt.
You gripped the rim of the bathtub and leaned back, an amazing tension forming in your thighs. “Want - sh-shit - more, Eds.”
“Fuck yeah, I’ll give you everything, baby.” A thumb started flicking your puffy clit again and Eddie grinned up at you. “Uh-huh? Taking such a big cock so well, like a good girl.” Christ, he was almost too good at speaking absolute filth.
“Can - can you cum in me? Please. Please, oh my fucking god.”
The entire image of you on top of him set his blood on fire. Tousled, wet hair. Soap-dripping tits. Heavy-lidded eyes trained on where he was fucking you down onto his cock. You sparked something almost animalistic in him, and now you wanted him to empty his balls inside your cunt.
Huff. Huff. Groan. Eddie couldn’t find the words to respond to you. So, he fucked you harder, causing desperate pleasure to pulse through both of you. He tugged your head back and began sucking along the column of your throat.
“Gonna fill up my gorgeous girl. God, your pussy’s gonna be so fucking messy.” Eddie was essentially delirious by that point. The only thoughts in his head were fucking you, cumming in you and suggesting that bath sex became a regular thing. The vanilla-scented stuff had you smelling like some fancy dessert, the poor guy was losing his mind.
You wanted to be messy. Eddie was pounding into you so well that your mind was calm and blank. The bathroom could be swimming with sudsy water and you wouldn’t even know.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” you squealed. “Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie. You need it too. Uh-huh?”
“That’s right, babe. Always so smart for me.” His voice sounded far away, but in the best way possible. Eddie had a single goal in his sight and the tightness in his balls felt so fucking amazing.
The way you begged always short-circuited Eddie’s brain. You were so lovely, so amazing. Hearing you say his name in your hoarse, needy tone made his cock twitch violently.
Your cunt clung to his thick cock, trying to milk him dry and chase your own orgasm. Your release washed over you in a pulse of heat and electricity - momentarily making your body go limp from the euphoria. It didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop until Eddie did. His cock was splitting you open roughly as he used your sopping hole to cum inside.
“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groaned, his jaw hanging slack. “Can you say my name, babe? Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”
“Eddie - you, Eds.” A fucked out whimper is all you could manage. But it worked just as well, if not better.
Eddie came deep inside your slick cunt with a deep scream and a slurred string of curse words. Panting and water lapping were suddenly the only sounds in the green-tiled room. It was a sticky but not unpleasant atmosphere. You loved it.
You had collapsed onto Eddie’s chest as he ran a weak hand through your hair. “I feel all tingly.” You sighed.
“Like good or bad? Swear my jizz isn’t radioactive or anything.” Eddie snorted, his voice sounding sleepy. Christ, he was almost too warm, but like hell was he moving from his current position.
“I meant good tingly, like romantic tingly. Way to ruin the post-sex mood.” You huffed, flicking one of his nipples until he let out a little shriek.
“Okay, okay, easy there.” Eddie splashed some water up into your face. He was lucky he was so cute. “That was an incredibly romantic start to the night, in my humble opinion.”
You hummed in agreement as you lifted yourself off of Eddie’s softened cock, settling back to straddling his thighs. Bath or not, you were getting your post-sex cuddles.
“Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie.” Eddie whined, mimicking your high-pitched moans as best he could. As much as you hated when he teased you like that, the impression was actually pretty solid. “That’s what you said. That’s love right there.”
“And I was being entirely honest.” You replied. “Bear my horny little soul to you and look where it gets me? Bullied.” The next few seconds moved by quickly. One second, Eddie was fixing you with an eye roll, and the next he was pouring foamy water over your head. “Dick!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll blow dry your hair before round 2.” Eddie grinned, moving close to you and pressing a kiss to your now dripping face.
“I want some of that conditioner stuff you use in your hair too.” Demands would have to be made as a form of repayment after your boyfriend tried to waterboard you. “The one that smells like coconuts.”
“I’ll braid your hair too, how does that sound?”
In the evenings, Jimmy would often see Scar on top of the train, writing in a small notebook and watching the sun set. As Scar’s friend, Jimmy was happy to see Scar relaxing after a day of hard work. As the sheriff, however, he needed to know what Scar was up to, because he was nosy. And because he had to know if Scar was breaking any laws, of course!
“Hello Scar!” Jimmy landed neatly in front of Scar, who gasped in surprise and put a hand to his heart.
“Jimmy, you can not sneak up on a man like that!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jimmy quickly said.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Oh, I should greet you with more respect- howdy, sheriff! Care to sit with me?” Scar tapped his pen at the roof of the train, and Jimmy was quick to make himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged next to Scar.
“Scar, I was wondering what you do with that notebook each evening.” Jimmy said. “I always see you writing in it, and of course, as the law, I am curious, I mean entitled to know if it is against the law. You know I can not stand for any lawbreaking.”
“Oh, naturally.” Scar said, chuckling. “Well, they say that practice makes perfect, and of course I strive for perfection- I mean have you seen my abs?”
“Yes, I’ve seen you sunbathing once a week in the middle of the desert.” Jimmy sighed.
“Anyway.” Scar continued. “I use this journal to practice my signature, as it needs to be as perfect as me.”
Jimmy had to admit, he hadn’t expected that answer. “Your signature?” He asked. “Do you have a lot of important documents to sign or something?”
“Oh, Jimmy.” Scar chuckled. “Every paper I sign is important. My autograph is worth it’s weight in diamonds, my friend. But you know that, of course.”
Jimmy scratched his head. “I’m afraid I don’t, Scar. Why would people want your autograph?”
Scar gasped in offense and clutched the notebook to his chest. “Don’t tell me you have never heard of HotGuy! It’s a classic film, everyone loved it!”
Jimmy racked his brain. “Hmm, no, I’m afraid not. What is HotGuy? You know, I think Scott would love it though, sounds like his kind of thing.”
“Me! It’s me!” Scar exclaimed. “I’m HotGuy! I was- I am famous, loved by all. Everyone wants my autograph! Well, no one here, because clearly you have no film culture, and none of the Hermits will take them unless I trick them into taking a paper but I know I am loved and adored!”
“Im sure of it.” Jimmy said, patting Scar on the back, since the man seemed close to tears.
“I had- have adoring fans. I couldn’t keep up with all the autographs people wanted me to sign for them, and of course there were the calendars.”
“The calendars?” Jimmy asked.
“I reprint them every year, they’re a staple of the HotGuy brand.” Scar seemed to perk up a little at the mention of the calendars, and pulled a folded stack of glossy paper out of his pocket. “Here, you can have your very own. I’ll even sign it.” He scrawled a loopy, dramatic autograph, and handed it over with a flourish.
Jimmy flipped through a few pages and had to clench his teeth to keep his mouth from falling open. “Great calendar, Scar.” He said weakly, making a mental note to give the calendar to Scott the second the hermits left.
“See, now you know, Trouble Town is in safe hands as long as HotGuy is around.” Scar said, snapping and pointing at Jimmy. He then attempted to shoot a skeleton and missed.
Little Lies 30
Warnings: this fic includes grey/dark content including dubcon, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your boss throws your comfortably dull life into chaos. (Boss AU)
Note: Almost done the week.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like the Gingerbread Man loves gumdrop buttons. Take care. 💖
Hands crawl over your body, sending shivers through you, consuming, suffocating. You can't see, it's dark. You can't move as he touches you, as he growls in your ear, "it's our little secret."
You wake with a start, panting as you sit up, disoriented in the unfamiliar room. Your heart races as slowly you remember; where you are, who you are, and the years between then and now.
You drag your fingers down your cheeks as you turn your legs over the side of the bed. Then come the other memories, more recent, more painful. Loki, Irena, the rhythm of pleasure spoke in flesh.
You hang your head, gripping it as the hangover drums in your temples. You got to the hotel after midnight, a single room to keep you from dozing on the road, a restless break. The wine helped you out of consciousness, but you never forgot for long.
Your phone vibrates on the crisp white duvet. You ignore it as you stand and cap the long neck of the bottle, the smell of the alcohol stirring your gut. You go into the bathroom and rinse your face with cold water.
The anger surges past the dullness of last night's excess. You stare at yourself, snarling. The thought of driving all those hours back to the city after wasting as many the day before, and for what?
You slam the faucet off and grumble. Fucking waste of your time. You rip away from the sink, shaking. You've never felt like this, never so furious. You learned to mute it, to hold it in, don't react, just keep on.
You hit the tile and the impact ripples through your hand, knuckles throbbing as you pull away with a hiss. You look at your shaking fingers and curl them again, another futile punch to the wall. Again and again until your bones feel ready to break.
Smeared lipstick, sweat speckled skin, rosy cheeks, droning voices. You shake your head, bidding the thoughts away.
You fall onto the closed toilet and huff. Why? You're not supposed to care. About him or her or this whole stupid charade.
Your knuckle is split, deep. You look up at the smear along the trim of the tile. You get up and wipe it away with tissue before turning to wash your hand under cold water. You let the blood weep out, uncovered, and leave the small bathroom.
As you enter the main suite, there's a tapping at the door. Your outburst must've drawn the concern of the neighbours. You stomp across the floor and open it without peeping through the hole.
Just as quickly, you try to shut it in Loki's face but he plants his hand on the wood, keeping it ajar. You push hard, saying nothing as you refuse to look him in the face.
"Darling, you can't just run away–"
You give up and let the door swing open as you march away. You go to the bed and swipe up your phone, checking the time. You take your bag from the chair in the corner and search out your keys from the side pocket. Throw on a sweater and you're good to go.
"Darling, please, you cannot just ignore me," he pleads to your deaf ears.
You pull the wool on and hook the large buttons. You're already out of that hotel room, plotting where to fill the tank and how long the backroads will take you. You zip up your bag and haul it up.
"We should talk. Don't be childish–"
You pass him and shove your feet in your boots and snatch your jacket from over the console table.
"You must wonder how I found you, yes? You used the company card–"
You stop and dig your hand into your coat pocket. You fumble with your wallet and slide out the black card with Serpent Realty etched in golden letters. You flick it at him and elbow him out of the way.
"Where are you going?" He follows your dauntless pace into the hall, "darling, please. I've already paid for the room. On my personal card–"
You growl but don't give him anything else. You balance your bag on one arm then the other as you poke your hands into your sleeves. You pull the coat up and hook the bag back over your shoulder.
"You simply cannot walk away, we have a deal," he chases on your heels down the hallway. "And as fate would have it, I have no ride back to the city."
You hit the elevator button and unlock your phone, scrolling as you wait for the doors. He mirrors you as you step on and you flick your thumb up, looking for the same route you took yesterday on Maps. You hit the Lobby button as you edge away from him.
You say nothing and look up at the numbers as each floor passes. You tidy your reflection in the mirrored walls, mourning your toothbrush as you sacrifice any sense of hygiene for an escape.
"Irena is no longer a client," he says as you step off the elevator, "that should please you. I thought it best not to muddy business with… uh, well–"
You strode across the lobby with him in your stead. You come out into the lot and find his suitcase wheeled up to your car, waiting. You huff and kick it away as you pop the trunk.
"Do not be so– so– stubborn," he barks, "Christ, I've cut ties with Irena, alright? She wasn't very happy and if you just drive away, I'll be stranded up here."
You dare to look at him. It hurts. He winces at the sharpness of your glare and you exhale a cloud into the cold air. You drop your bag in the boot and flick your fingers at him. You leave the trunk open and go around the driver's side.
You slump into the seat and grip the wheel before you manage to steady yourself. You turn the ignition and crank up the heat. You peek in the rearview as he places his bag in the trunk and shuts it. You wait as he lets himself into the passenger side.
"Darling, I owe you," he says, "truly, now we have the whole drive to sort this–"
You shift into reverse before his door is even closed. He grunts and shuts it before it can scratch the next car. You veer back and hit the gas. He clumsily buckles up as you sneer at the road.
"First, let me say how sorry–"
You flip on the radio and twist the volume to max. He sighs as you keep your eyes on the road. His voice fades off into the bassy thrum of the music.
It's gonna be a long drive, you resign, but you won't spend it listening to his bullshit. You're done with all these little lies.
As you sit at the pump, tank full, you connect your phone for handsfree, whiling away the minutes. The thought of leaving Loki at the station occurs to you but you dismiss the cruel idea. You skip through your playlist as his door opens, some jostling before he angles himself into the seat.
"Coffee," he announces as he puts a cup into the holder closest to you.
You set your phone in the small slot beneath the stereo and shift in your seat. You slowly pull away as he sets his own cup next to yours and clicks his belt into place. His knees almost meet the dash as he attempts to get comfortable.
He reaches down and pulls the lever, sliding back to the limit, still not enough room for his long legs. You ignore his struggle as you turn off onto the freeway.
The lyrics of the music keep you from steaming, though there are moments you feel ready to boil over. Loki chews the paper brim of his cup as he fidgets. You huff and turn the volume up.
"Your coffee will get cold," he intones.
You say nothing, you have nothing to say. He doesn't deserve the effort. Why are you even so mad? That's what makes it worse. That you don't want to be angry but you are.
His words replay in your mind, those ones you dismissed but now linger agonizingly. Maybe you didn't take him seriously when he was cooing that all he wanted was you, but it can't erase that he did say it.
No, it's your complacency that irks you. Your stupidity. You're not that naive teen anymore, you don't fall for this shit. He won't drag you back to that. You hit the wheel and grunt. You shake your head at your unbidden outburst and swallow down the swell of fire.
"Darling, would you like me to take over? I could drive for a while?"
Still, unanswered. Let him flail, let him drown.
Suddenly, a chirping interrupts the drum roll and you hit the button on your steering wheel to answer without checking the display.
"Oh, dear, wonderful," Frigga's voice chimes from the speakers, "I was hoping you weren't busy."
"Hi, Frigga," you say flatly as you lean over the wheel.
"You aren't, are you?" She asks.
"Just driving," you reply.
"You're on your way back already? I thought you were to be away for a few days."
"Well, that's perfect. We have found that flights are very hard to arrange at the moment. We have only some select dates and we would be better to leave sooner than later so perhaps we could do a little dinner to see us off?"
"Mhmm, we could," you utter.
"You know Loki's schedule, would he be available as well?"
"I'll ask," you affirm, "sorry Frigga, I'll have to call you back."
"Not at all, dear, drive safe," she trills back.
"Thanks, bye," you hang up and sit back as you scowl at the road.
"I think dinner is a good idea," Loki says.
You roll your eyes and hit play on the music. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckle burns, the cut reopening. You focus on the stinging pain. It's preferable to that sat beside you.
Finally you pull up in front of Loki's house. You idle at the curb and wait. He sits awkwardly, waiting. You sniff and look up at the upholstered ceiling of the car. You click your tongue.
"Well, darling, we're home--"
You huff and undo your seatbelt. You lean over him and pull the handle, pushing the door open pathetically with your fingertips. It clicks back into place and you sit back with a dismissive wave. He doesn't move.
"You can't just not speak to me. Please, come inside and we'll talk about this," he says, "darling, really, I don't understand. How can you be so upset--"
You shift the car into park and push through the door. You nearly slip on the ice as you march around to the trunk and pop it. You grab his bag and throw it into the snow. You stomp up to his door and rip it open.
"Get out of my car." You can barely get the words out without hollering.
You hit the roof of the car and step back. He flinches and reluctantly climbs out. You snap the door shut behind him and go back around, evading him as you edge around the hood.
"Where are you going?" He asks as he steps onto the curb, turning to watch you.
As you open your door, your name flutters through the air melodically. You cringe and peer over the car. Frigga rushes down the steps, heels clicking perilously on the ice.
"Yoo hoo!" She waves her head over top, hugging herself with her other arm as she shivers, "gods, it is absolutely frigid out here. So happy to see you back safe."
Your teeth chatter but you don't think it's the cold. You blink and hide your chagrin as you step out from behind the car.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, I wanted everything to be in order for you two. After such a long car ride. Ugh, you look a mess. You must need a warm tea--"
You struggle not to crack, eyes hot as you keep your lips curved, the tension aching in your cheeks. You nod and clear your throat, "yeah, tea sounds good."
"Loki," she calls to her son as he shamefully grabs his bag from the snow heap, "will you be a dear and get all that inside? Oh, dear," she faces you again and takes your hands, "you look absolutely worn out. Are you sick? This weather does me in."
"I'm fine," you insist as you carefully draw your hands away, hiding the cuts between your knuckles, "just tired."
"Mmm, well, let's get you somewhere warm," she turns and stretches her arm around you, "are you certain you're well?"
You nod as you let her guide you forward. You feel numb, helpless. You don't have the nerve to tell the truth. That would just mean you'd have to think about it and that's the last thing you want. Pretending everything's normal is better than facing what's real.
Hot and sweaty - Allison Argent x M!Reader
"Need a spotter?" Allison questions when she enters the gym and sees you shirtless and doing bench presses trying not to overtly stare at your abs.
She didn't think she would like the apartment building her father recently moved her into after selling the house she was just getting used to but it did surprise her with some perks including its own free gym and a very hot new neighbor.
"Thanks but I'm just finishing up," you say putting the bar back into place and sitting up on the machine.
Allison not so subtly glances over your body that is dripping in sweat but is broken from her trance when you speak again.
"If you need a spotter I'm more than happy to stick around," you say smiling at her.
You've been flirting with each other for weeks but being that you went to a different school across town the only time you got to see her was in the gym, which both of you seemed to be going to more often than usual for no specific reason at all.
"I'd like that," she says, purposely going to the power rack.
She had already gotten in a run around the neighborhood and was feeling warmed up enough to stick a couple of weights on the bar.
She nervously blushed as you stood behind her and did her first squat, hoping you were watching her ass move in her tight leggings.
You bite your lip, trying not to make it so obvious you were super attracted to her as she did each rep.
When she completed her set you helped her set the bar back into place on the rack.
"You're getting really good at this, the first time we met you were only lifting half that weight," you say as she turns around so you're facing each other.
"Or maybe I'm just trying to impress you," she says boldly.
"Allison you don't need to try to impress me, I knew you were a badass the moment you walked through that door."
She looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes, making an impulsive decision and kissing you.
Your lips are salty from sweat but Allison doesn't mind, in fact she kind of likes it.
You walk her back into the wall, pinning her there while you kiss down her neck.
Your hand is on her stomach, playing with the hem of her tank top but she stops you.
"Not here," she says breathing heavily.
"Oh okay that's cool," you say thinking she meant you were moving too fast.
"My dad isn't home… let's go back to my place," she tells you.
"Only if you want to," you say making sure you were on the same page.
"I really, really want to," she nods, kissing you again.
You make it back to the fourth floor after some more very heavy making out in the elevator and she shows you to her room quickly picking up where you left off.
You're on top of her in her bed, clothes being discarded until you're both naked.
"I've wanted to do this since you moved in, you are so hot," you tell her.
"Me too," she smiles, running her hands over your toned abs still prominent from your workout.
Suddenly she's flipping you over, her wetness pooling on your stomach as she grinds her ass into your hard cock.
"Do you like this?" She asks.
"Hell yes," you reply.
She raises her hips slightly in the air, allowing her to grab your cock and guide it inside her. You both let out a deep moan as she begins bouncing in your lap.
"Oh fuck," you say, throwing your head back into the pillows while she rides you.
She does a feel slow shallow thrusts, letting you hit deep inside her before picking up the pace.
You reach out and grab her chest, nipples getting hard under your palms.
She's feeling a burn in her stomach, sweat running down her skin.
Your hands are now on her ass, squeezing it and giving it a nice slap making her gasp.
"Again," she says and you do it twice more.
Her climax is nearing so she hastily rubs her clit, shouting curse words as she cums, her walls pulsing around your cock.
"God you're beautiful when you cum," you tell her and she pushes away the hair that has fallen in her face.
"Are you close?" She questions.
"Really close," you respond.
Allison gets off of you but repositions herself in the bed so she can finish the job with her mouth.
She takes your cock that's covered in her arousal between her lips, tongue lavishing it while she firmly strokes the base.
"Shit Allison, I'm gonna cum," you say, spurting directly into her mouth which she spits out into a nearby trash can.
"I don't know if I've said this already but you are really fucking hot," you say totally in bliss, staring at her ass as she walks towards her bathroom.
"I could use a shower after getting all hot and sweaty," she says over her shoulder, "and I feel like someone should go down on me in said shower."
You tumble out of her bed, hurrying behind her not needing to be asked twice.
steve harrington x gn!reader, 530 words
tw: trust issues, arguments, mentions of alcohol and parties
a/n: trying out a new format, not sure how i feel about it yet
The moon had long since risen in the sky. Stars littered the vast darkness, trying to give some light to the situation it observed from afar. But even then, it seemed as if nothing could make it better.
“We’re not just friends, and you know it!”
The words left your lips before you could stop them. You had been doing that many times that evening—from the car, to the party, to now.
Were you jealous? Maybe you were jealous. But the way that woman clung to Steve made your skin crawl. It made your insides burn, boiling the alcohol that had once kept you at bay.
Steve stared at you, silence encapsulating the dirt street you stood on. Confusion etched his features, clinging to every crease in his skin as he frowned.
You held up a hand, stopping him from speaking. Tears burned your eyes as you took in a deep breath.
“I thought we were more. I thought we were more than friends, Steve,” you said. “And you just—you just stand there, letting some girl hang off of your arm like she’s arm candy!”
“Cherish? The chick who was throwing the party? Y/n—"
“—I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t think you’d ever be one to me.”
Steve clenched his jaw. What were you on about? You weren’t even giving him a minute to defend himself—to keep you from berating him because of a misunderstanding. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.
“We are not just friends,” he said. “But I would have thought you would have more faith in me than that.”
You paused, looking up at him.
“Before you ran off. I was telling her that I was seeing someone,” he said. “Had you waited a minute, you would have seen me pushing her away. But, no, you ran. You ran, and I followed. Because we are not just friends, and I hate to think that you were about to get hurt. I hate to think that you can’t trust me.”
You frowned. Words caught in the back of your throat, but they made no attempt to come out.
“No. No, I’m just… I’m going home. Do you need a ride? Nancy is back at the party. I can’t… I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Steve,” you said, panic striking you still. “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“—no, Y/n. Trust… trust is a two-way street, and you need to trust me at some point if this is going to work. I know you have issues. Everyone does. But that’s not… that’s not fair to me.”
Steve squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m going home. I’ll call you tomorrow. I just… need to get home.”
Steve left you there, reeling at your own mind. You knew you loved him—that much is true. But a part of you had yet to find trust; a part of you remained painfully alone in the corner of your mind, shouting orders left and right to never trust the one person you should be able to trust completely.