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garfunklefield · 1 month

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hiii ^^ can u write ab how perverted each JJK man is? plz plz plz includ choso!!!!! i luv my little bbg

Dirty Little Pervert!

HOW PERVERTED ARE THEY?

[Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, and Toji]

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/JJK MEN Warnings: established relationship, fem!dom!reader [Gojo], sub!Gojo, anal fingering, dumbification, public sex, dub-con, exhibitionism, slave play, pet/master, hair pulling, degradation, spanking/flogging, bratty!reader [Nanami], brat taming, dacryphilia, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, sex toys, Choso's is really sweet, hunter/prey, consensual non-consensual [Toji] breeding kink, biting, blood play [blood drinking] Word count: 1941 DESC: How perverted are each JJK man on a scale from 1 to 5?

I actually had so much fun with this! I've never done a multi-fic before I'd love to do more!

This is not my most well written fic but hey it's something!

Satoru Gojo: ★★✩✩✩ Submissive/Dominant

Satoru Gojo was the most pathetic man you had ever been with. You had never heard a man cry and whimper more than him, which was strange because when you first met him you had him completely wrong. From the way he acted and from how he presented himself, you pegged him for a dominant guy who liked to fuck submissive girls. You initially thought it would be a problem, being a dom yourself. So it surprised you when you heard him casually admit to being a sub.

“I like a real dominant woman. Someone who can fuck my smug attitude outta me.” That was all he needed to say. Because soon that’s exactly what you did.

You just used your fingers, pumping them in and out of his tight little hole. He was already so sensitive that’s all he needed to become a slobbering and filthy mess. You watched as the boy you knew as cocky and conceded fall apart, whimpering and crying out that he wanted more.

“You like that slut?” You smirked, arching your fingers to touch his sensitive prostate. Satoru moaned, nodding his head against the bed. Both of his hands were gripping the sheets and his back arched as he felt a wave of pleasure shoot through his cock. He’d already cum several times, writhing around in it. But he still wanted more. And not to mention, you wouldn’t let him leave until you milked him completely and utterly dry.

“M-mommy.. Please.. F-f.. mmm… shit.. Mm-fuck.. Fuck.. fuck me… p-please!” He sobbed into the cushion, jerking his hips to the sensation. It wasn’t long before he felt it get too intense and he spilled out again onto the bed, screaming out with pleasure. He threw his head up and arched even more that he possibly could. All from your plush little fingers. You hadn’t even begun to stroke his cock or fondle his balls and he was completely and utterly gone. He was in a haze, fucked dumb from your digits.

“More…” he rasped, looking over at you with his tongue sticking out, “I want… more..”

Suguru Geto: ★★★★✩ Exhibitionist and slave play

Suguru wasn’t one for hiding his perverted nature. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you both came home from a late day at the office and he was beginning to pull down your pencil skirt. One hand pulled at the hem while the other used little force to push you stomach-first against the hood of his car. You let out a breathy gasp and turned back to him, trying to see what exactly he was doing.

“Suguru?” You asked, trying to get an idea as to what was about to happen. You didn’t want to admit but you were already soaking wet. You knew with the nature of your relationship he didn’t need to ask, if your master wanted to fuck you you knew to oblige. No matter where you two were.

He pressed his raging boner against your ass and let that speak volumes. He hadn’t been able to concentrate without thinking about fucking you in public. He wanted everyone to hear you moan that he was yours and no one could ever fuck you like that. He wanted you to cry and choke on his cum as he pounded into from the back. Suguru wanted everyone to know who owned you.

Your skirt came off and fell down to your ankles, revealing your underwear. He inhaled sharply and pulled his cock out from his slacks, letting it hit your fat ass with a small noise. It was within seconds that he was inside you. You gasped and arched your back, feeling one of his hands on the small of your back and the other grabbing your hair, pulling you back to him.

“You like that, huh? Whore? Little pathetic slut?” Suguru spat in your ear, making your pussy throb in between your legs. You were the most self-respectable girl, never letting anything get to you. But in your sex life… you were a different person. You were a total slut for your husband, doing anything and everything to please him.

Kento Nanami: ★★★✩✩ Spanking and Brat taming

Kento wasn’t a very perverted guy at all, he’d only ever really think about that stuff when he was with you. You never pegged him for the guy who was into going to fetish bars or doing ACID on a Tuesday night, and you were right. However, you didn’t account for the fact he had his own kinks and ways of pleasuring himself. He never admitted but he enjoyed his fair share of BDSM, only with the right person of course. When you came in, with your bratty nature and your big innocent eyes… he wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to cum on your tits and force you to lick it off or give you a piece of his mind after a long day of work, fucking into you with no care for your own personal boundaries at all. But… he restrained himself enough to limit his kinks to a select few things.

So you found yourself, bent over on his lap with a flogger in his hand, while his other lifted up your pink skirt. Of course, you didn’t wear underwear. He had gotten used to the fact you were the pervert in this relationship, doing everything to get a rise out of him. And it worked. You had been able to make him so sexually frustrated it was pissing him off. He needed to tame you and make you bend to his will over and over, and over again.

Of course, it would only make you behave for about a week before you started to test his patience again, and then the cycle would repeat. And god he loved it.

“Okay dirty girl,” he spoke gently, “Remember if you stop counting I start over,” and with one fell swoop the flogger smacked your ass. You let out a whimper and threw your head back, counting the first number.

After a few more spanks from the flogger you hazily looked over at him, drool pooling on your bottom lip and dripping onto the floor, “I.. mm.. I forgot… my place,” you let out a hiss as Kento frowned and raised his hand, slapping your ass with enough force to make you cry out. “Mm! I’m sorry!” You let out a sob before he smacked it again, “D-daddy Mm.. mm sorry!”

“You’re going to show me how sorry you really are, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as you, looking you over as your body shook. You didn’t realize it but he was so incredibly hard it was becoming painful for him.

Choso Kamo: ★✩✩✩✩ Mutual masturbation

Choso actually isn’t that much of a pervert! Choso had never found himself interested in BDSM or crazy sex. He preferred the romantic aspect of a relationship over the sexual, which he was very glad you did too. There was nothing he really wanted to try or had a desire to do. All he really wanted was to be close to you in any way possible. So maybe there was one thing. He wanted to see how you pleasured yourself when you were all alone. He wanted to see how you touched yourself to the thought of him, and he wanted to show you how he touched himself to you.

When he suggested the idea you thought it was really sweet and agreed. It made him happy to think you wanted to be as close to him as he wanted to be with you. You watched as your boyfriend shyly peered over at your exposed pussy, glistening just for him. You placed your small vibrator over your clit, letting out a faint sigh at the new sensation. Just watching you begin to please yourself made a small jolt of electricity travel through his cock.

“Baby…” You cooed, motioning for him to lay beside you. Choso nodded and laid back, resting his head against your shoulder, “You wanna touch yourself too?”

“Mmhm…” He nodded, looking down at his growing erection. It took a few seconds before he was freed from his pants and sopping wet from his precum. He shyly placed his hand around his shaft and stroked upwards, before focussing on his tip. You watched him with a curious expression, slowly rubbing circles around your clit with your bullet vibrator. You let out a small moan as you watched him massage the slit on his tip, before going back to stroking his length again. All the while, his eyes were on you. Your face and the cute expressions you were making.

This felt more intimate than sex. A way to be close to one another without truly touching each other. Even though he longed desperately to touch some part of you, that’s why he was leaning his side against yours. Your warmth and your smell were so comforting, it was all he needed to masturbate near you. He really, really loved you.

Toji Zenin: ★★★★★★ Hunter/prey and CNC

Toji wins. Toji fucking wins. He’s the most perverted man you’ve ever met. The first thing he asked you when you walked up to him at that bar was your bra size, and that same night he was taking it off with one hand. Your relationship was purely sexual from the moment it began and you both loved it. You would do any kink or any weird thing he suggested, as he would for you. As long as it meant he got to breed your pretty pussy in the end.

Today you both had decided on something… out of the norm. It was dead of night, maybe 3 AM? And you were in a lovely wooded area, running for your life. Behind you, you heard something chasing after you. Maybe it was a beast, maybe it was a man, you couldn’t tell. Toji was supposed to be chasing you, but it had been so long since you had seen him that you weren’t sure what was behind you anymore. You looked down at your surroundings but it was pitch black, the only thing you could see were a few branches in front of you. You still saw them yet you tripped.

You fell face-first into a pile of leaves, scrambling when you heard… growling. A large hand grabbed your shirt and you gasped, struggling against it. You could barely see, you didn’t realize he had leaned down and began to bite you. You let out a cry, “Agh! S-stop!” You continued to struggle, whimpering when the man behind you broke skin and started to suck on the blood seeping from your neck.

“Pretty thing. Shame… M’ gonna fuck you so good,” Toji whispered, throwing you back into the ground. He was giving you a chance to run, to escape. But you didn’t want to. It was so fun to role play, to pretend you were in any real danger. You knew even though your relationship was sexual he’d kill for you and your tight pussy.

“Please…” You cried as you felt your pants rip from the top down, exposing your ass, “Leave me alone…” You buried your head into the leaves, a large hand grabbing your hair and pulling you up.

“I said I’m gonna fuck you good. Now stay quiet you fucking brat,” Toji pushed you down, making you squeal in pain as he slapped your ass a few times. Your skin stung and you knew this was just the beginning of a long sexual experience with your lovely sneaky link, Toji.

#gojou satoru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #choso kamo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #x reader smut #x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #garfunklefield writing

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virtualtrashcollector · 6 months

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🌼 Joker Comes for a Sleepover

Joker x Female (Dark Knight Joker, 5 Chapters total) 18+

Summary: You are a young kinky British woman working as a mechanic in Gotham for the Joker. Overhearing he needs a new place to stay, you decide to offer him your bed.

Warnings: 18+ VERY EXPLICIT. This story features lots of dirty words and situations! Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. No minors please. Enjoy!!

Word count: 4,170

Note: I will post the next 4 chapters separately as some are quite long.

Chapter 1:

Standing in the rusted out doorway, you listened quietly as the conversation went on.

"Sorry boss but I gotta kick ya outta there, people are startin' to get suspicious. Askin' to go in that room but I can't let em, ya know?" Richie paused to look at his shoes. He was clearly nervous, his thickly accented voice waivered as he spoke.

"Fine fine whatever, I'll just find somewhere else to squat." J said emphatically while looking out the window at the orange setting sun.

"Sorry again boss." Richie waved awkwardly and turned. Walking past you, he smiled and gave you a gentle smack on the ass.

You simply stood for a moment and observed the man in the dirty purple suit. His messy greenish hair hung carelessly just above his slightly hunched shoulders. He sat perched on a stool in front of a large cracked window in the nearly empty room. The only furniture was a rusty metal desk covered in an assortment of various papers and ammunition. Everything in the room was bathed in a subtle orange glow.

"Did I hear correct?" You asked stepping forward into the room.

"You need somewhere to stay?" He turned to look at you. First with his head, and then the rest of his body. He smiled faintly, licked his lips and clicked his tongue. J's eyes locked with yours.

"You heard correctly." He said quietly while shifting slightly on the stool.

Making your way towards him, you tempted him.

"If you like, you could always stay with me. I have a guestroom." Now only mere inches away from him, his dark eyes drifted slowly down your torso to rest on your hips. You bent down slightly.

"Or you could just sleep in my bed. With me." A devious grin spread across his face as he looked up at you. He cocked his head slightly.

"Now that's an idea." He said in a deep serious tone.

"Then what are we waiting for?" You asked playfully. He stood and walked briskly over to the metal desk. J rifled through a pile of papers until he appeared to find what he was looking for, pocketed the page, and walked back over to you.

"Well I've got all my things, lead the way." He said gesturing for the door.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as the two of you exited the decrepit warehouse. Soon it would be dark and the city would become a beautiful backdrop of lights and stars. Your black car sat at the far edge of the now empty parking lot. Everyone else had gone home a while ago. Taking the key fob from your purse and clicking it twice, the doors unlocked and you both got inside. After buckling yourself up you looked over at J.

"Nice car." He said looking impressed.

"Thanks." You replied shifting into reverse and backing out of the spot. Pulling out onto the street you began the journey home.

"I'm going to grab a coffee on the way out. Would you like one?" You asked him as you approached a Starbucks drive thru.

"Sure." He said simply.

"Black."

Now back on the road, piping hot coffee in hand, you turned up the radio a little and couldn't help but smile. It would be a lie to say you weren't excited about having your boss stay with you. The man had instantly captivated you with his theatrical style and unpredictable personality. It also didn't help that he was sexy as hell. He was taking large sips from his steaming cup, watching the city lights go by as the sky gradually got darker and darker.

Cruising down the highway, you were checking out a new billboard that had been put up the day prior, when you felt eyes on you. Turning to look at J, you immediately noticed he was looking at your breasts.

"Something the matter?" You asked acting coy. He shook his head and pursed his lips.

"Nope. Just like watchin' your tits bounce around." He replied matterafactly while continuing to admire you. Reaching over to him you placed your right hand on his crotch and began to rub gently.

"Mmmmm..... that's it." He moaned quietly encouraging you. You could feel him quickly becoming erect underneath his dirty pinstriped dress pants. Using your sharp black varnished nails, you traced the outline of his swollen cock slowly and methodically.

"Fuck." J exhaled through gritted teeth, never taking his dark eyes off of you. He grabbed your upper thigh and squeezed gently, his nails digging in a little.

After a few moments you abruptly removed your hand without warning and placed it back onto the wheel. He produced a small sound of protest and then groaned.

"Is that it?" He asked sounding frustrated. Looking over at him still erect, you responded.

"For now. Later I'm going to fuck you hard." He grinned wide and licked his lips, his eyes openly exploring every inch of your body.

"You know I'm gonna hold ya to that doll." He said in a deep velvety voice.

"Please do." You answered.

#joker x reader #dark knight joker #heath ledger joker #joker fanfiction #the dark knight #joker smut #heath joker #fanfic #romance #joker x oc #the joker #ledger joker x reader #heath ledger #dc joker #fanfiction

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mabsolgirl · 9 months

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Headphone warning

Transcript below! :3

I made this a while ago, around when I first started making art of the Supernova AU AU. There have been some slight changes since then but I wanted to post this anyway since its been just sitting in my drafts and starting to get dusty. The changes aren't enough to alter anything in the audio in a major way anyway so neeeeh.

It's been a while since I did voice stuff so hopefully I don't sound terrible lol

Obligatory @linxprime ping cause au of their au

Watch me pull world lore outta my ass cause I still don't know what im doing

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In the ruins of a crashed and destroyed ship, you find a strange audio file labeled "Project Supernova". You made a copy of it and now you have the time to give it a listen...

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Transcript

Warning. The following video is the private property of [REDACTED]. Any outside or uncertified personnel caught viewing this video will be terminated by any means necessary. Viewer discretion is advised.

Log 1.

I am Dr. Jane Doe and I’ve recently been put in charge of “Project Supernova” after the old one quit. I decided to keep audio documentations of my findings and observations. I find it easier for me to document things by recording them by audio then writing it all out later.

Project Supernova is a study on the abilities of intelligent lifeforms, how they manifest, if different abilities can be manifested in specific situations, and researching the phenomena of Berserkers. Before I came in, an embryo was successfully fertilized and grown into a stable state. There were many failed attempts with this being the only one that has made it this far, living for roughly 12 years as of this recording. To be honest I question the decision to make a lifeform rather than study the cases of people who already have abilities, but the higher-ups wanted to do this rather than the simpler way.

Regardless it is planned to come out of the tube once it reaches 13 years, which is a couple months away. It should be stable enough by then. Until then we monitor it for any changes.

End log.

Log 2.

Right, so I forgot to mention info about the lifeform last log. My bad, heheh.

So, the lifeform is female and it was made with the DNA of multiple organisms with the two primary ones being Human Earthling and Cuixcus. I think I pronounced that right. Cuixcus was used for their adaptability and Human Earthlings to counteract the weaknesses of the former. It has bones, can withstand hotter temperatures, and while it doesn’t need to, it does breathe oxygen. The DNA from other organisms were used to help stabilize it so it doesn’t just die spontaneously. The genetics chosen specifically to see if heritage has an influence on what abilities would appear.

Now the real reason I am logging this. Earlier today it was monitored that specs of light were floating around the lifeform’s tube. They looked so… ethereal. It was like looking at a cluster of tiny stars. I should probably mention that the lifeform is in an unconscious state. It has been like this since its creation and this was the first time these lights were documented. They disappeared before we could study them. Maybe it dreamt them up? We’ll have to keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 5.

Today it came out of the tube, emphasis on “it”. We weren't supposed to take it out for another week but I guess it had other plans. One second it was in the tube, the next the lights appeared again and it was out and fell face-first into the equipment. It teleported itself out.

Since it wasn’t connected to the machines anymore it woke up quickly after that. Of course we were all freaking out but it didn’t seem too bothered by us. We ran some tests and it was stable. It bruised its head but other than that it wasn’t significantly injured.

It’s a very curious one. It would grab and inspect what we had. We let it for the most part and it would hand us back what it had when it was done. Right now it’s in its own room that we had to quickly scramble to finish putting together. It’s a quiet little one. The team and I decided on the name “Nova” after the project. As per usual we’ll keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 27.

A lot happened today. Today is the first day Nova went into her Berserker state. The first thing I noticed was that she was much calmer than I expected. I expected a rampaging beast like the other cases of Berzerkers but Nova would just… stare at us. We kept an eye on our monitors to watch to see what she does and then we watched her create light orbs; like the ones from one of my first logs but much bigger. This time we were able to scan them to see what exactly they were…

They’re stars. I am not joking, she was making literal stars, balls of collapsed burning gas, in her hands! From our observations they disappear when she loses focus but still incredible nonetheless! We later figured out the key piece to what her abilities are: a limited form of matter manipulation. She can teleport herself, and those she touches, by willing her own matter into another space and the stars are made by manipulating the matter of gas and dust to collapse in her hands. It is theorized she can manipulate any form of matter so long as physical contact is made.

After a while she went out of Berserker state and fell unconscious. We hooked her up to make sure she’s alright. Right now she’s comatose; we’re hoping she comes back alright.

End log.

Log 39.

Earlier today one of the higher-ups came in and told us that we were not needed on Project Supernova anymore and that in the coming days a new team would be coming in to take over the project. Of course we were outraged. We were consistently giving them good results! We did what we were told! We did nothing wrong, didn’t question a thing. Nothing we said could convince him otherwise. None of us wanted to leave the project. I’ll admit, Nova has grown on us. She’s like family and now for some reason she’s being taken from us. When he left we all decided to look into it ourselves.

The more we dug, the more things began to not add up. Then… we found something. We’re not here to do what we think we’re doing. We’re gonna get Nova out of here. This place is no longer safe. We’ll get her out and we’ll be the whistleblowers to this place.

End log.

Log 40

…I’m… I’m sorry…

Dr. Jane Doe, Dr. Bailey Shindo, Dr. Margoba Entano, Dr. Manbagea Nals, and Dr. Ripley Hedon have been terminated. Project Supernova assets will be transported to [REDACTED] for further completion by a new team effective immediately. End communication.

#my sister compared this to mewtwos backstory and tbh shes not wrong #btw the name Jane Doe was a placeholder name since its commonly used to refer to someone dead that cant be identified (John Doe for dudes).#the name kinda just stuck while i was making this. I might draw Jane sometime in the future since i have design ideas #art #fnaf au #fnaf oc #supernova au au #i know the supernova posts dont do well but i dont care! i like making them :3 #im really happy with the scene at the end. the weird humming does have a purpose. id like to see if people can identify it >:)

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3d10fire-damage · 2 years

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Colors That Run Highlights 11

in which we officially become the breakfast club (or at least, when i say we did)

Once the whole party was gathered for breakfast, Corrin posed a question. “What is pegging?” Slim, flustered, offered a vague explanation involving equipment, then left the room. Calypso, after dying of laughter on the ground, explained more frankly what pegging is. Mortified, Corrin ran out of the room as well.

Fea went outside to talk to Lin, who happened to be jogging by. They had a conversation about Fea’s aversion to radiant damage, and Lin offered to apply radiance to Fea in order to “get her used to the sensation.” Sure, Jan

Inside, Calypso joined Corrin in their shared quarters to pack for the trip. After some teasing and more Birdemic, Calypso assured Corrin it was no big deal.

Fea came back in and told Calypso that there was an open invitation for her to meet up with Lin before setting out on the road 👀👀👀 so Calypso fuckin barrel rolled outta there for a good time. Pegging happened but mark my words Caly Will top next time

Back on the road again, Fea passed out the rest of the dolls, claiming the one that made them is choosing to remain anonymous. Calypso also mentioned the tiefling from Blood Smear that Kattie hated, and how the party should beat his ass if they ever find him.

Norsom again! Some jokes about Slim and Cas were exchanged, but the group headed up to the nearby lake to inquire about their quest with the head fisherman.

Corrin claimed that it was actually illegal for him to get into the water or try to swim. Because he’s too small, or something.

While uncomfortably discussing what boat they should take to investigate the water, Calypso crouched down by the shore and dipped her hand into the water. Suddenly she was engulfed in water as a very big water elemental whelmed her completely. Fuck around and find out, the character.

Calypso kept roll really shitty strength saves during this encounter, but luckily Fea pulled her out of the soup, and stuck close with her most of the time.

Corrin Clutchhammer limited the elemental’s mobility by hitting it with Ray of Frost over and over, as well as trying to keep his friends safe with Sanctuary.

Slim maintained his distance, remembering his horrible experience with water elementals back in Gilsa. He did heal Calypso back up at least once though.

And naturally, Kattie brought out the Shatters. But also, she utilized Thunderwave to push the elemental into her Cloud of Daggers. Clever.

At one point the DM redirected an attack from Fea to Calypso, to knock her out a second time, simply because of the following GIF. I could not be mad at her for doing this. It was too funny.

Then when I rolled an 18 on Calypso’s death save, she was like “that’s not good.”

Fea stood between Calypso and the water elemental protectively, but Calypso immediately got up and ran back up to the enemy to keep punching it. Girl’s a monk, she doesn’t have range!

Once the beast was defeated, Corrin hurried over to hit Calypso with a Cure Wounds. Slim flopped onto the ground and stared at the sky, coming down from the water panic.

Kattie was given the party’s gold reward for completing the job, as well as a bottle of moonshine, which she did not recognize. Calypso took a swig of it before the group moved on.

The party settled into the tavern, except Slim who visited Cas 👀 But they didn’t hook up, they just talked. Slim asked if it ever gets easier, dealing with heavy, dark things in life-- if they ever go away and stop weighing on a person. 🥺

Corrin challenged Calypso to some rollies. They went three rounds, with Corrin winning two out of three. Fea advised against this, for both of them, but being dumb kids, they ignored her.

Fea and Calypso had a heart to heart while on the road, initiated by Calypso asking if Fea would be mad at her if she stayed in the FG. Fea found out some more about Calypso’s upbringing, and assured Calypso that the rest of the group does genuinely want her around and aren’t just tolerating her. Calypso also tried to talk Fea out of her idea to get smacked with Lin’s paladin magic, to mixed success.

Entering Arepal, certain members of the group basked in the familiar heat. Kattie was kinda sweatin’ it though (seems to be a running theme with Bree’s characters).

Slim told the group they’d could try and eat all the food his sister Maria gave to them, but not to hurt themselves. He insisted that she would find some other way to coddle Fea, since she doesn’t eat.

As they approached Slim’s home, two young boys came running up, calling “Uncle Slim, Uncle Slim!” It was two of his nephews 🥺 Calypso laughed at how they all talk funny up here.

Everyone was introduced to Maria. She gave the group a tour while Slim started working in the kitchen. She also referred to Slim as “la princessa.”

Everyone was given chores to help with in the following days. Corrin took up cleaning, Kattie and Fea took up various animal chores, and Calypso was assigned chicken duty, because she asked about any jobs that involved her hitting or being hit. >;)

Calypso mentioned Slim dressing up for David, which Intrigued Maria. Afterward she went outside for DOG TIME

Fea and Kattie discussed horses (Fea assumes animals will hate her because she’s dead) and then met Dave himself, who took them on a ride. They discussed Slim a bit, Fea commenting that Slim seems kinda haunted, but doesn’t talk much about it.

Corrin and Slim discussed looking over Slim’s blueprints and picking out Calypso’s gun later in the day. One of Slim’s nephews would be coming too.

Everyone gathered for dinner, and Slim got just a tad flustered at Dave’s appearance. Everyone else was like 👀👀👀

Corrin fell for Luciana, another member of the family, and then he insisted on switching seats with Calypso to sit next to her at the table. Calypso agreed, because she would be closer to Maria. Fea was sticking close by, as she does.

can’t wait to embarrass cowboy dad next time

#dnd #long post #colors that run

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liz-allyn · 2 years

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inner demons - pt 3 [tasm!peter x f!reader]

another side of the devil you know

Chapter Summary: Peter can't escape his secrets or the scars left in their wake.

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: SERIOUS GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNINGS APPLY. 18+ ONLY. Dark! Themes TW including: dubcon/noncon via miscommunication), references to past SA of a minor, smut, vomiting, alcohol, blood, biting, overseas terrorist attack (bombing), references to Iraq War, uniformed service members killed in action, funerals, death, heavy angst, grieving/loss, soft!dom!peter, humiliation, language, violence, therapy, depression, panic attacks, Skip Westcott.

This may not be the story for you, regardless of age. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six.

The sound of running water stirred Peter from his sleep. Lying face down in your shared bed, his hand reached groggily for you, a grumble in his chest. His bleary, chocolate eyes creaked open, letting early sunlight in. The view of his hand came into focus, adorned with a titanium, channel-style wedding band featuring a unique, etched design that resembled a thin pattern of crossing lines - a spiderweb, some would say. He gazed at his ring, and his outstretched palm over your place on the mattress beside him, and his brow furrowed to realize that you weren’t next to him.

With a deep groan, he excavated himself from the bedsheets, his back aching as he pushed himself to his feet.

When his eyes finally laid upon your form, it was behind a steamy shower curtain. He was taken aback by just your silhouette. Entranced by the ghost of you, he pictured the way the water fell across your bare skin, dripping over your curves. He must have let out a subconscious, satisfied hum, as your voice pulled him from his lustful daydreams.

“Is that my husband,” you asked aloud, the smirk audible in your voice, “or am I about to be ravished?”

Peter flashed a toothy grin, pushing himself off of the doorframe, and rid himself of his sleep clothes. “Can’t it be both?”

He yanked the shower curtain back and scurried inside, wrapping himself in the comfort of the hot water and of your embrace. You blissfully wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed a chaste kiss to your blushing cheek, then peppered them along your jaw and lips. You hummed with pleasure feeling the hard planes of his muscles against your naked front. He held you tighter with each kiss; the water from the shower leaking through his lips did little to quell his thirst. His deviant hands slipped up the arc of your waist, brushing over your supple breasts. He used one hand to pull your jaw into a deeper kiss, the other lingering at your chest.

“Easy there, Romeo,” you giggled like a teenager as he nipped at your lip. “You can’t make me late for work again.”

He groaned in protest as you took his hands and wrapped them firmly around the small of your back. His eyes rolled in anguish, mourning the missed opportunity, “Mmmphh—just call in today.”

You snorted at his adorable childish antics, “I’m already taking a half day.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him into an embrace as you sighed, I need to send that proposal before I leave or Lou will be up my ass again—”

“Lou can go to hell,” Peter muttered in your ear, knowing that ragging on your obnoxious boss would make you smile. “I’m the only one allowed near your ass.” He reached down and pinched your flesh just to make a point.

You overdramatically yelped with a puppy dog snarl, and he placed another kiss on your sultry lips.

“Trust me, once I hit ‘send’ I’m outta there,” you reassured him, running your hand through your wet hair. You pulled your head back into the shower stream, loosening your locks of any remaining product. “Then we’ve got the whole weekend together. To do whatever you want.” You twitched your nose and gave him a wink, a look that would be considered lewd if you didn’t look so cute doing it, he thought.

You sobered your silly expression a bit, adding with a warm gaze; your voice sincere, “After, of course. Whatever you feel up to.” A flash of sadness momentarily filled his molasses eyes. He blinked it away, pulling his gaze from you, before looking back up at you with a grateful, yet somber expression.

You turned away from him, rinsing your face. “Maybe we can try that new Empanada place—”

“What the hell is that?” he cut you off with a sharp tone, slicing through the moment and making you snap your head around to face him. He grabbed hold of your upper arm urgently and pulled you closer to him. His brow was furrowed, his expression heavy with grave concern.

“What?” you replied, the alarmed look on his face draining the color from yours.

“That!” he said, nearly spitting out the word. You followed his eyeline to the back of your shoulder. A gnarly, yellowish-green bruise peeked out at you from behind your shoulder blade.

“Oh,” you stated, simply, running your fingers over the bruise. His fingers were locked around your arm, preventing you from moving away. You looked up at his eyes, storm clouds forming in their blackness.

“Where did that come from?” His tone was sharp. Frustrated. Concerned.

You frowned, shaking your head. “I... I don’t remember?” You shifted your position to try to get a better look. He yanked you back.

“Who did that to you?” he snapped, his eyes flashing red. Outraged. Accusatory.

You could see pulsing in the artery in his neck. The air between you shifted, like a raw nerve exposed. You met his gaze, stunned at the sudden outburst of unfounded vitriol. It was clear that Peter wasn’t there—not with you, not really. He was somewhere far away in a hostile environment fighting for survival, his knuckles bloody and his chest heaving. It was a bizarre Mr. Hyde moment; every muscle in his body was pulled taut. His eyes were wild.

At first, the sound of his voice and the fire in his eyes made you flinch. You then narrowed your gaze defiantly in return. “Excuse me?”

He blinked several times as he stared at your firm expression. The alarm evaporated from his face. The amber hue returned to his eyes as he glanced back and forth between your incredulous look, to his hand, to the bruise, and to his feet.

“I-I...” he stuttered, like he was waking up from a bad dream. He pried his fingers off of your arm and replaced his hand on your shoulder, lying it gently across your skin. “It-it looks painful,” he swallowed hard. “I just... How-how did you get it?”

You watched him pensively. He was unable to make eye contact with you, as Mr. Hyde retreated and a nervous boy was left in his wake. He furrowed his brow, his face and ears reddening with shame. “I just—I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” he grimaced, eying the bruise empathetically.

His jaw locked up, head dropping, as his eyes fell back to the shower floor. His vulnerability softened your hard gaze. “Now you know how I feel,” you responded quietly.

He looked up at you, remorsefully. A glimmer of humor returned to that dark gaze, a half-smile curving his lips. “I’m the one who’s supposed to get banged up, not you,” he sheepishly mumbled.

You watched him for several more moments until you could tell he was starting to squirm. You examined the bruise again. “I’m pretty sure this came from my valiant battle with that scratch on the floor next to the dining table,” you mentioned, after some thought. “I stood up too fast and caught a corner.”

He bit his lip, nodding his head, looking away. He tried to conceal his embarrassment as best he could. “Did you win?” he asked, bashful. There was an apology inherent in his tone.

“Not quite,” you responded with a half-shrug. “They’ll forever sing my praise in songs of my sacrifice.” The charm returned to your voice, and with that, the matter was dropped.

Peter’s eyes wandered over the tile walls as he wrung his hands, fingers twitching. You slowly brought your hand to his lightly stubbled face, caressing him gently. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch. The warmth of your palm soaked through his skin, easing the tension in his body.

When his eyes reopened, you were looking at him with sunlight in your gaze. He felt the rays shine down into his soul, the desolate flowers there flourishing in the light. “Today’s not supposed to be an easy day,” you crooned, reassuringly. You ran your hands up his arms, pulling him closer to an embrace. “And that’s okay.”

He nodded with a soft half-smile, the sting of tears pricking his eyes. He squeezed them shut and rested his forehead on yours. He took a long moment to breathe you in, your aura and the humid air soothing his nerves.

Like a prayer—like a solemn vow that on days like that one, he would swear to renew with each sunrise—he whispered back, “I love you.”

THAT NIGHT

“Felt weird, y’know?”

Spider-Man found himself with a surprising lack of words despite his chatty reputation. But in the current space, he was allowed to deviate from his perceived persona. And he was even more surprised at how badly he needed a space like that.

He was sprawled out awkwardly across Dr. V’s faux leather loveseat, which was quickly showing its age with cracks. He respectfully kept his boots off of the walls and his legs crossed at the ankle. The bobbing of his foot never went away.

He was surrounded by serene portraits of eucalyptus, ferns, and one orchid which was more green than white, which all paired nicely with the minty walls. Dr. V sat across from him, listening quietly.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been there,” Peter said, staring up at the ceiling through his opaque lenses. Lost in thought, his voice dwindled, barely audible over the evening traffic echoing from the streets and the white noise machine blaring outside of her closed door. It didn’t matter that it was past 8:00 at night; the doctor was a stickler for protocol.

“I’ve been there at least a hundred times before and this time, it felt… like, I don’t know, like it was weird.” he explained. “Like I didn’t know the place as much anymore.”

“How else would you describe it?” she questioned. “What emotions did you recognize?”

“Um… I don’t know. Alien? Unfamiliar?” He tapped the webbed fingers of his gloves over the Spider-Man emblem on his chest. “They’d cut down a couple trees since last time, maybe that was it.”

“What emotions did you feel?” Dr. V implored.

“Oh,” he replied, thinking more deeply. “Um... I guess… I felt surprised?” His statement abandoned its confidence midway through and his tone pitched up into a question. “I mean, it’s been... months. Things have been busy at the lab, but… I guess... I was surprised at how long it’s been. Just made me feel surprised, ‘s all.”

“Surprised?” she repeated for clarification. “At the time that’s passed since you last went?”

He swallowed hard, and she recognized the discomfort in his throat. “Yeah, I guess.” He added with a melancholy tone, “It’s like time got away from me.”

“Ten years is a long time,” she nodded with understanding. She waited, letting a silence fall between them.

“Guilty, I guess,” Peter admitted after some time. “I guess I felt guilty.”

She tilted her chin slightly, contemplating his admission. It was interesting, but par for the course for Spider-Man.

“You’ve said many times you thought that Gwen would be happy for you if she could see you now,” she empathetically mentioned. The reverence with which she discussed the first love of Spider-Man’s life was not lost on him, even if she was missing some important details. Peter appreciated it. “She’d want you to spend a little more time on your present,” Dr. V reminded him of his own words. “A little less time in the past.”

He swallowed hard once again. She didn’t need to see his face to see the corners of his mouth turned down. Despite all of the healing and the happiness, her death left a scar that would never truly fade.

“It feels bad,” he explained, barely above a whisper. “Thinking of her as ‘the past.’”

“It shouldn’t,” the wiser woman stated simply. “Your past is just as important as your future. It made you who you are.”

A longer beat passed between them. She couldn’t see the expression on his face, but could hear the shadow in his voice. He sounded quiet. Defeated. Ashamed.

“I know,” he answered, sadly.

10 YEARS EARLIER

Peter’s skateboard skidded to a stop just outside of the gates of Midtown Science. He kicked the board up into his hands, catching it as he bounded towards the front of the school, ripping the corded earbuds blaring the latest from The Black Keys out of his ears. He glanced down in enough time to spot the gloves of his Spider suit still on. In a panic, he yanked them off, nearly dropping his skateboard as he struggled to conceal them into his Jansport pack.

A school bell rang and Peter groaned in defeat. He nearly tore the zipper trying to close the pack, his feet carrying him (late) towards his first class. He stopped short before he entered the building, a peculiar sight catching his attention.

In the distance of the manicured kelly green lawn, he spotted the school principal and two uniformed classmates standing at the base of the courtyard flagpole. Carefully, one of the two high school students wearing light blue and navy-combination uniforms with military insignia held a salute, while the other reverently lowered the American flag. They lowered it midway down the pole, leaving it to rest. The other student stepped back a few feet from the pole and joined his classmate in salute, both of them staring up at the blazing red, white, and blue colors flapping in the breeze.

Peter curled a brow at the scene. Before the school principal could turn his attention towards him, he quickly rushed inside. His converse squeaked as he bounded slightly above a normal person’s pace through the school hallway, past rows of lockers and classes already in session.

Without being inside any of the rooms he could tell something electric was in the air. His senses picked up on whispers and chatter. He could even pull a few words and repeated phrases as he scurried through the hallway towards homeroom. The energy flowing was laden with something thick. A stifling black cloud that hung over the campus.

By the time Peter reached the door of his class, his stomach was twisting in knots. He paused in the doorway, catching a glare from his teacher and the other students. He paid them no attention; they weren’t who he was looking for.

His focus zeroed in on a pair of giant, warm, hazel-green eyes peeking out from a curtain of blonde silk seated at a desk in front of his empty one. His shoulders slumped a bit, his nerves calming at the sight of Gwen Stacy sitting safely near the front of the class. Her brow was furrowed with concern, while in contrast he felt a heavy weight lift off of him, even as his teacher notified him that he now had detention on Friday.

Peter nodded without a word and shuffled across the classroom to take his seat. It looked like he wasn’t interrupting very much, as the same, uncomfortable buzz that occupied the rest of the school also filled his homeroom.

“So... I guess this means we’re putting a pin in pho on Friday?” Gwen sighed and whispered under her breath, not turning around to face her boyfriend as he slid into his seat behind her.

“What? No, what? No pins,” Peter stuttered, his words tumbling over one another as his brain simultaneously worked on overdrive to assess his environment. “No pins in pho. Spoons. Or chopsticks, whatever you use. Pho is happening. It’s a yes. Always a yes—why would you pin that?”

“Because you have detention on Friday,” Gwen chided with a smirk. “Again.”

“No, don’t worry about that,” he shrugged as he shifted around in his seat. He pushed the thick frames of his glasses up on his nose, his eyes darting around the room. Gwen thought he sounded like an entire band loading in their equipment. She wondered how Spider-Man could possibly be so stealthy if her boyfriend was a mess.

“Who said I was worried?” she said covertly, her eyes glued to their teacher. “I’m not the one with detention—”

“Hey, you look really pretty today, did I say that?” he interrupted, his voice as sweet as honey. She rolled her eyes and failed to contain her blushing smirk, his breath warm on the nape of her neck. “You smell pretty too. Are you wearing that flower stuff? That... um, what’s it called?”

“Gardenia,” Gwen supplied, under her breath.

“That’s it, that’s the one,” Peter said with an audible grin. “Didn’t I get you that? For your birthday?”

“Hmm,” Gwen puckered her lips, squinting her eyes as she fake-jogged her memory. “Nope.”

“I didn’t? I’m sure I did—”

“Nope,” she reassured him. “You didn’t.”

“I got you some perfume... I remember this, I got you... some kind of... scent, right?”

“Fish.”

“That’s it!—wait, what? Fish?”

“You got me dinner at that fish place on Lexington.”

“That’s right. I got you the dinner. We had the dinner.”

“We didn’t have the dinner yet, Peter. You got me a gift certificate. You canceled. Twice—”

“What?” he exclaimed. “No... We’re gonna go. We’re going this weekend.”

“Not on Friday, we’re not. Hey, don’t forget, we’re going over chem notes together tonight after dinner.”

“You still smell really pretty, that was—that was the point I was trying to make, I was trying to compliment you and... I like how you smell. It’s not like, y’know—At all.”

She pursed her lips, feeling heat rise up from her neck and blush her cheeks. She was grateful her back was turned towards Peter so he couldn’t relish in the pink hue that he always managed to paint her cheeks. Even if he could hear her heart flutter anyway.

“Mr. Parker,” their teacher chastised from the front, having called for silence a minute ago.

“Sorry,” Peter coughed, lifting a hand apologetically. He lowered his head, hiding behind Gwen, his eyes still scanning over the vitals of the rest of his class. “Hey,” he continued his conversation with Gwen more discreetly, although he didn’t silence the tapping of his pencil on his comp book. She grimaced as her chatterbox boyfriend asked, “Is something going on here today? Something’s... off. It’s like somebody died, or something.”

He didn’t miss the way her muscles locked up. She turned her head around, her eyes piercing. “Somebody did die,” she whispered with a grave tone, and quickly faced the front before the teacher could call her on it.

Peter’s brows arched with concern.

“It was a kid that used to go here a few years ago,” she discreetly explained. There was an unmistakable reverence in her tone, and for a moment Peter wondered if they knew the deceased personally. “He was in the Army,” she added. “Some kind of terrorist bombing in Iraq.”

His head tilted curiously. A loud beep over the PA system brought everything, including his teacher, to silence.

“Good morning, Midtown Panthers, this is Principal Davis,” the masculine, tinny voice announced over the speakers. Normally, Peter and his classmates would have chortled and snickered at their principal’s awkward daily greeting—as if the same voice wired to the front office which gave morning announcements every single day would be anyone but Principal Davis. Did he really need to introduce himself every day?

This morning, though, there were no laughs.

“I have some unfortunate news to report,” the voice declared solemnly. You could hear a pin drop in Peter’s classroom, even without superpowers. “Some of you might have already heard that we lost one of our own this week. We are deeply saddened to hear of the tragic passing of one of Midtown High’s greatest players and beloved sons, First Lieutenant Steven Westcott.”

The pencil stopped tapping.

“Steven was cherished by the faculty, coaches, and his classmates at Midtown. We remember him as a steward of this community, as well as a true leader... to his peers and to his team.”

The clock stopped ticking.

“Many of you know he helped bring our first state championship to Midtown High Basketball. Those of us that had the good fortune to know Steven always believed he had a bright future ahead of him. Little did we know what a hero he truly was…”

Peter stopped breathing.

“Today at noon there will be a memorial service held in the courtyard, where we can come together and—”

He stopped hearing.

He couldn’t move. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if the school was attacked by a giant lizard, or Freddy Krueger riding in on a Tyrannosaurus Rex. A tornado could rip the school to shreds and Spider-Man would be motionless, carried away helplessly by the wind like seeds of a daffodil. Peter stayed still—

...just be still, stop squirming around for once...

—so still he couldn’t tell that he had started breathing again.

...just breathe through your nose, that’s all you gotta do...

Time wasn’t frozen, just moving so painfully slow.

... just relax and quit spazzing out and it won’t hurt so bad, I promise...

Sweat was beading down his back. He was aware of this fact, but he couldn’t feel the perspiration. His skin was numb.

...just relax, Pete, just like that...

Peter shot up out of his seat like he was struck by lightning. It was a miracle that he hadn’t outed himself right then by sticking to the ceiling like a cartoon cat. His chest was tight, and everyone’s eyes were on him, and he couldn’t move but he needed to run. To outrun. He needed to throw up.

He made it into a stall in the boys’ bathroom just in time for his stomach to turn inside out.

When the deed was done, he hit the flush handle of the toilet and leaned back on the partition wall in exhaustion. His face and chest were covered in sweat. Tears pricked his eyes. Boiling acid burned the lining of his stomach and throat.

But at least he could breathe again. His legs were jelly underneath him as he struggled to steady himself. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, gazing up at the old stained tiles of the bathroom ceiling.

“Parker...?” he heard a masculine voice echo through the bathroom. He froze again, not having noticed he wasn’t alone anymore. The realization threatened to send him into another panic—if he couldn’t rely on his goddamn Spider senses then what could he rely on?—but he fought to keep those feelings at bay.

“Pete, you in here?” the voice repeated, and now he recognized the source. Flash Thompson stood near the doorway, probably a foot from the wall and a sink basin based on the echo patterns. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Peter could hear his heart rate was slightly elevated, no doubt some sort of empathetic response to hearing someone else puke their guts out.

“You alive?”

Peter huffed, groaning curtly. “What is it, Flash?”

Several seconds of silence passed. Peter could hear more shuffling. He could hear Flash’s chewed fingernails scratch at his scalp. Through the stench of bleach and piss in the washroom, he smelled the anxiety coming from his classmate’s body and out of his gym shoes.

“Nothin’,” Flash shrugged after the awkward pause. “Just... wonderin’ if you need somethin’, is all...”

The boys had known each other since the sixth grade. Flash had issues. Everyone knew about them. His dad was a drunk, and the boy struggled to hide his dyslexia his whole life.

He came to Peter at the start of senior year and asked him for tutoring when Gwen’s schedule got busier, a feat which took an enormous amount of gall. Or bravery, as Gwen put it. Despite his reservations, Peter didn’t take the show of trust lightly. It was safe to say they now respected each other. For all of Flash’s faults and their tumultuous history together, he was a good guy at heart.

But in that moment, Peter couldn’t give a fuck.

He glared at the graffitied partition wall, setting his jaw firmly. The words left his mouth before he could think of them. “What could I possibly need from you?” Peter bit back.

The sting of the words cut through the thick air. He could hear Flash’s breath catch, like he’d been slapped in the face.

Guy was probably used to that, Peter thought guiltily.

“Whatever, man,” Flash grumbled with a defensive tone. Before Peter could open his mouth to apologize, he was alone again.

The assembly went on as scheduled. Most of the faculty was in attendance, as well as the entire basketball team and just about every student in athletics.

Gwen was also there, having been asked to read some heartfelt passage about true heroism. She agreed, embracing her role as a student body leader, as Valedictorian, and unfortunately—as the daughter of a slain New York City police captain. She ought to get used to making speeches like that, she once told Peter. With dismay, Gwen recognized that her name would always be associated with grief.

She had asked if Peter was okay after he disappeared in homeroom. She had been on edge all morning, assuming his Spidey senses must have gone off and alerted him to some big threat nearby. He told her cryptically that it was taken care of. She informed him that he now had detention every day next week.

Gwen also asked if Peter was going to the memorial assembly. It would have been nice to see a friendly face in the crowd as she talked to her classmates about loss, she admitted. He assured her that he would be there.

Two minutes into the assembly, as soon as the first chair trumpet began to play “Taps,” Peter was out.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in his bed, earbuds blaring, his eyes squeezed shut under the glow of his bedside lamp. The sun had set once he found the strength to leave his room, his Jansport pack slung over his shoulder.

“Peter, can you believe the news?” May’s voice stopped him in the foyer, his hand on the doorknob. He flinched at the brokenness of her timbre, the sound of someone who’d been crying out old memories. Reluctantly, he decided not to pretend he hadn't heard her. He could ignore a lot of pain, but he couldn’t stand the sound of his Aunt May in tears.

May sat in their modest and crowded kitchen, posted up on a barstool as she remained transfixed over the small kitchen TV. Peter noted that while she wasn’t much of a drinker, she’d poured herself a hefty glassful of a cheap red blend. The remaining half of the bottle sat in front of her; the cork was nowhere to be found.

“This is just awful,” May tearfully exclaimed. The news was on. The chyron provided details: CAR BOMB KILLS 4 U.S. ARMY SOLDIERS, LOCAL HERO AMONG THE DEAD. But Peter knew the context of the news report by the distraught look on May’s face.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen him,” May reminisced. “I can’t believe how much time got away from us. You weren’t even in high school yet when he moved in next door. I remember when he told us he was going into the Army.”

She sniffed, using her sleeve to wipe away teardrops that invaded the deep wrinkles of her skin. She looked so much older tonight, Peter noticed—the weight of battling exhaustion, and bill collectors, and a nursing program, and loneliness, and an uncertain future, and time itself taking its toll.

“I can’t believe he’s…Ugh, I’ve got to call Annette, I’m sure I still have her number somewhere…” May babbled with concern for her former next door neighbor, wiping her nose with a damp tissue. “This is just— God bless. I can’t imagine what she’s going through—I need eggs. I should make her a casserole...”

The television set displayed still images now. Peter watched them and was transfixed, fading in and out in dull fashion as if they were thrown together with iMovie. The deceased posing for an official portrait in dress blues. A candid of the deceased in a sand-colored, digitally-camouflage combat uniform, his callsign embroidered on his helmet: ‘SKIP.’ Finally, a sports action photo of the deceased on the basketball court wearing a Midtown High jersey, moments away from sinking a clean 3-point shot.

The last photo had something rising in his throat. Bile. Rage. Anguish. Tears. He didn’t know. He looked just the way Peter had remembered. That handsome face, now forever encapsulated within a photo frame, frozen in time. Lodged in his memories like a splinter.

“You two were so close for a while,” May lamented, sniffing as she poured herself another glass. “We also need milk, we’re almost out.”

The last time he’d seen her drink that much was after—

“God, Ben just adored him,” she added, choking back a sob. “He’d be just heartbroken if he were still alive.”

She jumped as the front door slammed, nearly shattering the glass in Peter’s wake.

Gwen stirred awake to the frantic sound of tapping at her bedroom window. She glanced over with bleary eyes towards the source, and saw a blurry red-and-blue figure on her fire escape. He peeked through the window, waving at her. He could see she was awake, and she hoped that he could see the scowl on her face.

Apparently he didn’t take the hint when she locked her window. Gwen let out a long, exasperated sigh as she stared at the ceiling. Peter tapped gently once again, and she gritted her teeth, throwing the covers off.

She stomped to the window, letting her boyfriend inside. She had a mouthful of words ready for him, but lacked the energy to unleash her full wrath. He looked tired as well, but he was more in a state of being wired while exhausted. Like he was pulling another all-nighter running on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Monster Energy Drink.

“Hi, hi… thank you, you locked your window? Why did you lock your window? You should really close your curtains at night—”

“It’s late, Peter,” Gwen growled, not masking her annoyance.

“Yes, I know, but you invited me over—”

“You’re late, Peter! Like eight hours late!” she whispered harshly.

“I know, I know, but there’s a disturbance—”

“And you didn’t text me!”

“—these carjacker guys stole somebody’s car—”

“You ignored all of my texts! We talked about this! You can’t just do that!”

“—and by the time I caught up they were rollin’ into some kinda warehouse by the docks, and inside there were tons of guys—”

“I must be the only idiot in New York who has to check the news every time her boyfriend ghosts her—!”

“I did not; I didn’t ghost you, I was—I was gonna text you back, but I thought these guys were stripping cars for parts but they were actually hiding drugs inside—”

“Jesus, Peter, you’re covered in blood!” she hissed, her eyes widening at the red staining her fingertips.

He paused, finally breaking his one-sided, stream-of-consciousness conversation, staring at her hands in shock.

“Lead with that next time!” she grumbled as she spun towards her nightstand where she kept the first-aid supplies.

Peter grabbed her arm, a bit too hard, pulling her back. “No, leave them, it’s fine—” He was sweating, but she didn’t know it was from more than the exertion of web-swinging.

“And have you bleed all over my rug again?” she scoffed. “No, thank you.”

“No, Gwen, I’m fine, I just—” His hand gripped her upper arm tighter and innately reeled her into his grasp. “It’s fine, I just need to clean up…”

She shook her head, trying to keep her resolve firm even as her eyes scaled up the mountains and valleys of her boyfriend’s muscles. Peter’s eyes were darker, the warm amber melting into a pool of dark chocolate that she could easily drown herself in if she stared too long. His fingers were searching for her, his ruby lips parted slightly, as he dragged her deeper into his depths.

She was distracted again, she realized. Her mouth had gone dry. So she did the only thing she could do.

“The majority of casualties during the Civil War were due to infection,” Gwen replied, with an audible gulp. “Not due to—”

“Actual injury,” Peter nodded, his lips brushing against hers. “That’s fascinating, tell me more about it.” He peppered breathless kisses along her jaw, each one sucking a bit deeper into her flesh.

“Well,” she breathed heavily, failing to subtly squeeze her thighs together, “battlefield medicine hadn’t progressed enough and….” His hands crept up her nightshirt, prickling her skin and causing goose flesh to form on her back. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her balance swaying in his arms. “…the-the, um, use of heavier ar-artillery and firepower meant they—oh— um, ha-had to amputate more—”

Peter licked a stripe up her throat and she forgot what war she was talking about. She leaned back in his arms, moaning softly, as he laid siege to her chest, capturing her weight in his grip.

“I just need a shower,” he mumbled into her skin, his hands running down her waist. His reach gripped her hips, traveled over her rear, and lifted her up further into his hold. “And I need you. In there with me.”

She tilted her head to allow for better access as she contemplated where this affection was going to lead. Thanks to her mother’s new nightly regimen of Ambien and Chardonnay, they were unlikely to be disturbed. And her siblings were heavy sleepers. Gwen was still risk-averse when it came to sex under the same roof as her parents. But less so after it became a singular factor.

Still. It was late, and a school night, and—

Peter slipped under the hem of her sleep shorts, his fingers prodding at the core of her soaked panties. He whispered in the shell of her ear, voice dripping with temptation, “Let me make it up to you… Please…”

And that’s all it took for her inhibitions to vanish.

Water rushing from the shower head muffled most of the quiet, whispered gasps and moans coming from the hallway bathroom. She hoped her siblings wouldn’t question why she was taking a shower at 3am.

Something was different about Peter, she recognized immediately. He was bold in a way that she’d only seen while he was wearing the mask. He was usually passionate, but this night he was particularly needy. A selfish generosity. Gifts that at times felt like little mocking curses upon her dominant strength, poise, and independence.

His tongue and touch roamed over her face, hips, breasts, thighs, and finally to her aching core. He didn’t slow down or seem to care when her gasps and pleas became a little too loud for her comfort. She reached up to cup her own mouth to keep quiet, only to have him snatch her hand away and pin both wrists to the walls of her shower. He wanted to hear her. He wanted everyone in the building to hear her. He wanted her to get off on the fear of relinquishing her control.

He was driven, like he was on a conquest. His touch was a wildfire, and it scorched her as he buried himself in the inferno between her thighs. He dominated her mercilessly, focused on the heat of her tiny whimpers in his ear and the burn of little scratches on his shoulders and back.

He wanted to consume her. He wanted her subjugation. He wanted to take the smartest girl in his school, his only true academic rival—the number one to his number two—and fuck her stupid.

And it was working. She hadn’t even noticed the blood soaking his suit wasn’t his.

And it was those ghastly images he had painted on the insides of his eyes—twisted and mangled bodies, bent into shapes no human form should take—as he chased his release. Crimson ink dripped down and drenched him with memories as he rammed into her, his nose filling with the smell of copper.

No webbing and no cutesy handwritten notes would be found at the scene when the carnage was uncovered. That thought alone filled him with a rush. A thrill that only hardened his cock more. No one would know about the violence Spider-Man unleashed on the gang of drug runners—

—no one has to know, it’s just this one time, it’ll be our secret—

—and if anyone had their wits about them enough to remember and talk, no one would believe it. Peter could barely believe it himself. He couldn’t really remember it. One moment he was seeing red, and the next minute he was standing in a puddle of it.

That was clever, he mused. Morbidly funny.

He was close. He bit down on the flesh of his girlfriend’s shoulder to stifle a groan, that was sure to come out more like a laugh. An elated, unhinged laugh fueled with unapologetic power. He was so close, if only she’d stop squirming—

—what’d I say about movin’ around so much, it won’t hurt so bad if you just stop—

“Peter, stop!” Gwen’s panicked voice shattered through his thoughts, and his body turned to ice.

He blinked the fog from his eyes to see his fingers gripping the back of her wet mop of cornsilk hair, her cheek red from having been shoved into the tile wall. She was gasping for breath, hissing curse words at him, and shoving him off her backside. His eyes widened in shock as he spotted an angry, purpling bite mark on her back, near her shoulder blade.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” she snapped with an acidic tone of voice he’d never heard from her before. She spun around and faced him. “Didn’t you fucking hear me when I said ‘stop’?”

Her expression was livid. Disgusted. Betrayed.

Peter was dizzy, but not from lust. In fact, he was limp. The steaming shower felt cold all of a sudden. It pounded on him like freezing rain and sleet, but he still felt a rise of boiling hot sickness crawl up his throat.

“I—” He mumbled groggily. He couldn’t figure out how to work his vocal cords. “I-I’m so—” His tiny voice fell off a cliff. He gazed at her with wide, horrified eyes, tears forming there concealed in the shower stream. He swallowed his tongue. Panic was rising beneath his skin.

And then he bolted. Sopping wet and stark naked, snatching up his bloodied suit as he rushed out. He dripped blood on the bathroom floor, and on the bedroom rug, as Gwen later discovered when she entered her room to find nothing but an empty open window.

She didn’t bring it up with him. They didn’t speak a word to each other about that night.

And they never would.

Because Peter would spend the next week in detention. And he’d be grounded for staying out all night and scaring May—regardless of whether he had eggs with him when he reappeared. And soon after he’d be a high school graduate, and he would miss her big speech, and Peter would break up with her again. For the final time.

And he never spoke about any of it until he was on that broken leather loveseat, musing over how time got away from him.

“What would you have told her,” Dr. V asked, “if you had gotten a chance to talk about what happened that night?”

Peter stared up at the ceiling on the tenth anniversary of Gwen’s death. His mask was soaked with tears; he wept with shame.

“I’m sorry,” he replied with a broken voice. “For everything.”

Part Four.

A/N your comments and tags have been amazing to read, and so very moving that this strikes a chord. Thank you my lovelies for your kindness! The next chapter is either going to be really long, or we'll end up with a part 5. What's your preference?

Did you like this chapter? Please show your support with a comment, reply, reblog or anonymous ask and THANK YOU for supporting fandom writers!

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rax-writes · 3 years

Text

More 》 Part Two

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings: Sexual intercourse, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving) [reader is a female-identifying individual with a vagina] Notes: Part two of More 》 I cannot thank you guys enough for how well More did, and I hope that you enjoy this addition to it! 》 I honestly didn’t edit this all that extensively, so if there are any errors, please let me know. ♥

At the break of dawn the next morning, you found yourself on a loading dock for shipment containers with Sharon, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo – pretending all the while that nothing had happened between you and the latter individual. You wore a sweater with a high neckline, per Zemo’s suggestion, and interacted with him exactly the same way that you had before. He did a good job at selling the lie as well, although he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes to himself, frequently staring at you for far longer than he should have, that dark, hungry look in his eyes returning if his gaze lingered for too long.

“All right, he’s in there,” Sharon announced, stopping in the middle of the massive metal boxes. “Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel, but hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

You accepted one of the earpieces she offered, getting it into place as she walked off. When the four of you entered the container, you found that it was empty, and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.

“Hey, Sharon, you sure this is the right one?” Sam inquired incredulously. “It’s completely empty.”

“Positive. It has to be.”

You entered the container, the other three right behind you, and closed your eyes as they looked around.

“He’s here. I can hear his thoughts,” you announced, then began to pick the doctor’s brain further. “Push against the back wall. There’s a secret passageway.”

Zemo did as you bade him, and sure enough, the wall moved backwards a bit, to allow him to open the hidden door. He shot you a curt nod of approval, then stepped back to allow Sam to enter first, and the rest of you followed suit.

Music filled the air, a swanky song you didn’t recognize, as you stalked through the laboratory, your gun aimed dead ahead and eyes peeled.

“Follow me,” you whispered, taking the lead as you easily navigated to the physical source of Dr. Nagel’s thoughts. When you saw him, his back was to you, slouched over whatever he was working on as he hummed along to the tune. Sam silently walked over and removed the needle from the record that played the music, and Nagel turned around slowly, fear written all over his face.

“Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab,” Nagel commanded, as if he was in any position to give orders. He began to walk toward the exit, but you stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand flat against his bony chest.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. Not until you tell us what we need to know,” you informed him without speaking, your voice infiltrating his mind. Nagel let out a frightened gasp as he looked behind him, apparently thinking that may be the source of the voice, before his eyes landed on you.

“You,” he whispered, his voice a mix of confusion, fear, and awe as you met his gaze with harsh eyes. “You – you spoke to me, in my head. How did you do that?”

“She can read your mind, and she can also control it. So, I’d advise you to answer our questions, before she forces you to,” Sam threatened, then watched as Nagel took note of Bucky across the room. “And you know who he is, right?” He then grabbed Nagel by the arm and turned him to face Zemo. “This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right?” He dragged Nagel to the nearest wall, shoving him against it as his back collided with the metal grate. “You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you better become conversational real quick.”

“How ‘bout a counter proposal? Make me a better offer, and I’ll talk,” Nagel proposed.

“Guys, we have company,” Sharon’s voice stated through the earpiece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!”

Bucky grabbed Nagel by his shirt and dragged him over to a chair, forcing him down roughly before pointing his gun at Nagel’s head, finger on the trigger. He still didn’t look terribly interested in talking, so you lowered your weapon and narrowed your eyes at him, and used your abilities to insight sheer, unadulterated fear in his mind. His eyes widened and he visibly paled as his mind wreaked havoc on itself, instilling a very pure, very powerful terror within him.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk! Just stop it!”

You ended the onslaught of panic, and raised your gun once again, as your three companions eyed you with curiosity, unsure of what exactly you’d just done to him. But there would be time for an explanation later.

Nagel explained how he formulated the super soldier serum, and you all listened intently to his little tale. That was when you heard it. Like the crack of a twig in an otherwise silent forest, yet making no audible sound at all, you heard it.

“I must kill him.”

You looked over at Zemo as nonchalantly as possible, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d picked up on his decision. The two of you shared tense eye contact for several beats, and you knew that you must make a choice. Allow Zemo to end this man’s life, and end the possibility of additional serums being created, or warn Sam and Bucky of his intentions?

“You know the damage unchecked Super Soldiers can cause. He is dangerous; he must be stopped.”

Zemo spoke directly to you in his mind, and you took the opportunity to dig deeper, searching for any sign that he was going to betray you, Sam, and Bucky. When you found none, you sighed quietly as you made your choice, and returned your attention to Nagel. Out of your peripheral, you saw Zemo begin perusing the room, feeling underneath tables in the lab in search of a secluded weapon.

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky inquired, and when Nagel hesitated, he pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple, prompting an answer of no. “Now what?”

Sharon ran into the room then, announcing, “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo took her distraction as an opportunity to draw his gun and shoot Nagel in the chest, straight through his heart. Sam tackled Zemo, and Sharon took the gun from his hand, whispering, “What did you do?”

The very next moment, the entire place exploded, erupting into flames as you, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon hit the deck, although Zemo was nowhere to be found when you groaned in pain and looked around the room from your position on the floor. Bucky pulled you to your feet, then Sharon, then Sam, as the four of you exited the container before it could explode from all the chemicals and fire in Nagel’s lab. You didn’t quite make it, as a gas-fueled explosion went off just as you exited the container, but you were far enough away from it that it merely blew your hair forward. Once outside, the adrenaline wore off just enough that you felt a blinding pain in your torso, and looked down to see blood quickly soaking through your sweater.

“Bucky,” you called out, and he turned quickly, a frown forming on his face when he saw your injury. You lifted your shirt to reveal a thin, jagged, three-inch long sliver of metal embedded in the center of your abdomen. Sam turned to bark orders at the two of you, but his face fell as he saw the blood.

Sharon made quick work of removing the metal, which was thankfully only about an inch or less in width, so it wasn’t at all deadly. Truthfully, it wasn't that bad of an injury, but god was it bleeding like hell. Bucky yanked off his jacket and handed it to you, instructing you to apply pressure to the wound and stick close to him. Your three companions shot at the bounty hunters that were approaching, and you did your best to fire a few shots yourself, your other hand pressing the jacket firmly against your injury. Sam shot you a disapproving look and told you to focus on yourself, but you ignored him.

While Sam and Bucky began bickering about who should have followed whose orders, there was yet another deafening explosion nearby. You looked in that direction to see Zemo with some sort of mask on, jumping down from atop some storage containers, before leaping over some metal piping and dodging past a man to evade his bullets, then grabbing him by the collar to use him as a human shield. He fired multiple rounds at the nearby bounty hunters, before releasing his grip on the first man and kicking him away, then shot him too. He looked at you through the flames, and you didn’t have to read his mind to know how exhilarated he felt, being truly back in action after spending years in a cell.

If asked, you’d chalk it up to the blood loss, but… goddamn, he looked hot kicking ass like that.

“Go,” Bucky ordered, helping you up and wrapping an arm around your waist to steady and guide you as the four of you made a break for it. Eventually, you reached an open storage container, and Sam helped you into it as Bucky fended off the last few bounty hunters.

When Bucky burst through the back of the container with his vibranium arm, you heard tires screech and an engine rev, before Zemo pulled up in a sports car.

“Supercharged,” he stated with the faintest smile. Christ, he was just a little bit of a goofball, wasn’t he?

“You’re going back to jail,” Sam said angrily, then turned to you. “And you were supposed to tell us if he was going to screw us over.”

“Nagel shouldn’t have been kept alive. I know you don’t like it, but it is the truth,” you reasoned.

“He didn’t have to die though, dammit! He could have just gone to jail, locked up for the rest of his life!”

“Oh, yes, just like Zemo? The man standing five feet from us, very much not in jail?” you countered, and he frowned, knowing you had a point. “Once word got out that Nagel knew how to recreate the serum, every power hungry individual and group in the world would be trying to find a way to either break him out or ask him about it. And I’m sure he would have told anyone for the right price. Even if the serum didn’t fall into the hands of the wrong people, even if a seemingly good-natured country like America were to get ahold of it, it could still be used for evil. They clearly don’t have the best moral compass, considering the asshole they gave Captain America’s shield to.”

“Alright, yeah, you’ve made your point,” Sam grumbled. “But I still think we should take Zemo back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo interjected.

“He’s right, we need him. And there’s three of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on,” Bucky said, pulling open the door of the car before turning around to help you into the vehicle. Only then did Zemo notice the blood on your hands and sweater, and Bucky’s blazer pressed against your torso.

“What happened to her?” Zemo inquired, sitting up to help you sit behind him, and frowning when you grimaced as you maneuvered into your seat, careful not to get any blood on the lovely cream interior. The car didn’t belong to any of you, but it was so beautiful that you hated to harm it.

“Stray shard of metal during the explosion in Nagel’s container,” you explained, grimacing a little as you leaned your head against the headrest behind you, eyes closed as you willed the pain to subside.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be. Probably just needs a few stitches, then I’ll be good as new,” you assured him, shooting him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn’t seem to buy before he removed his trenchcoat and laid it on top of you.

“You look cold,” he muttered, then turned back around in his seat to face the steering wheel.

“Fine, but if you try that shit again…” Sam told Zemo as he climbed into the car.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zemo responded, and you didn’t have to check his thoughts to know that that was a complete lie.

Sharon bid you all goodbye, and Sam thanked her for her help before sliding down into his seat.

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam asked Bucky.

“No,” he deadpanned, causing you to chuckle under your breath, which earned you a glare from Sam.

The drive back to the airport was mostly silent, which you were thankful for, as you didn’t really have the energy for talking. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but you’d still lost enough and exerted yourself enough that you were feeling fatigued. Zemo parked the car on the landing strip, a short distance from his jet, and was quick to exit the vehicle to help you out. You thought you were doing quite well, until you actually stood up outside the car, and the exhaustion combined with some wooziness from the blood loss made your knees buckle. You would have fallen if Zemo hadn’t lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“Let us get you aboard the plane, and I will dress your wound,” he said, then stooped to scoop you up into his arms bridal-style, and began carrying you toward the jet. Sam and Bucky eyed him curiously, but said nothing. Admittedly, you were too flustered by the close proximity and his gentleness toward you to say anything yourself. You looked over his shoulder, admiring his stolen vehicle one last time.

In Sokovian, you stated with a smile, “I’d like one of those by the way, the Pontiac.”

“Whatever your heart desires,” he responded calmly, matching your Sokovian. As he approached Oeznik, who stood beside the steps of the jet, he continued in that language as he instructed the butler, “Have that car, or one exactly like it, delivered to Berlin as soon as possible, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Zemo laid you down gently on the couch inside the plane, Sam and Bucky following close behind. Once inside, Oeznik brought Zemo the first aid kit, a needle, and some stitching. Both of the other men offered to do it themselves, but Zemo insisted that he could do a better job than both of them combined. In a manner much unlike the night before, Zemo lifted your shirt to have access to the wound, and set to work. Bucky let you hold his hand as Zemo cleaned the area and did the stitches, while you forced yourself to breathe evenly and ignore the pain of the antiseptic and the needle. A mere fifteen minutes later, you were all patched up, and Zemo was helping you up and sending you to the washroom with a change of clothes.

“You’re gettin’ real sweet on her, Zemo,” you heard Sam note, his tone suspicious. “You better watch yourself, man. Step out of line with her and we won’t hesitate to end you.”

“Understood,” Zemo replied nonchalantly, then you could hear him open a book and take a sip of his champagne. For your own amusement, you took a peek into his mind, and found that he was thinking, “Too late.”

You smiled to yourself as you undressed, carefully removing the blood-soaked sweater and placing it in a trash bag. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you first noticed the hickeys from last night, then the miscellaneous cuts scattered across your skin from the various explosions, and the gauze taped over your wound. The hickeys caused your smile to widen further, and you donned the plain black t-shirt of Zemo’s and his loose gray sweatpants before rejoining them in the lounge. His eyes darkened in that way as his gaze raked up and down your body, clearly enjoying the sight of you in his clothing, but he quickly returned his attention to Sam.

“She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggested, then leaned back in his seat. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face-to-face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.”

A few hours later, Bucky and Sam had fallen asleep after reclining their chairs and dimming the lights, as you laid on the couch, halfway asleep yourself despite the book in your hands. Once their near-identical snores had filled the cabin for several minutes, Zemo stood from his seat and came to crouch down beside your head. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I must admit, I was very concerned when I saw all the blood on your shirt. I have only just found you, my Sokovian beauty. I would prefer to draw out having the privilege of being acquainted with you for as long as possible, but I cannot do that if you get killed.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” you teased, and he smiled softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of my injury earlier.” He said nothing in response, simply smiled a bit wider and kissed you again, longer this time, but still far shorter and far less intimately than you’d have preferred. You both had to take the others into consideration, even despite their snores, because you were quite certain they’d put a bullet between Zemo’s eyes and send you home immediately if they learned just how “sweet on you” the man truly was. He stood and fetched a blanket from an overhead cabinet before laying it over you, then pressed his lips to your forehead, and returned to his seat.

“Goodnight, Liebling,” Zemo said softly, flicking off the last light in the cabin as he settled back into his seat.

“Goodnight, Baron.”

—————

Riga was somehow comparably chaotic to Madripoor, in terms of the events that transpired there.

Shortly after you arrived at Zemo’s estate, Bucky returned from his "walk" to declare that the Wakandans were there to take Zemo, although he bought some time. In all honesty, you were only half-ass listening to him, because Zemo had exited the bathroom with wet hair and a purple robe that revealed half his chest. He caught you staring and shot you a subtle wink while Sam and Bucky were talking, and you rolled your eyes in return.

Next stop was a refugee camp, where you, Bucky, and Sam searched in vain to get any information on Danya Madani. Zemo somehow managed to accomplish the task, albeit in the creepiest way possible, which you teased him relentlessly for on the walk back to his flat. When he revealed that the girl he'd spoken to told him the time and location of the funeral, but refused to tell any of you, Bucky was quick to anger, snatching the teacup from Zemo’s hand and throwing it against the wall. Sam talked him down before you grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him gently toward the door.

"Come on, let's take a walk. I saw a little farmer's market down the road; let's go have a snack and explore a little, yeah?" you asked, your tone calm and soothing to contrast the rage that swarmed in his mind, and Bucky nodded gravely to you as he let you lead him. When you glanced back into the flat as you closed the door behind you, you saw that Zemo was wearing a frown, and a quick peek at his thoughts informed you that he was pouting a bit, wishing you'd have just sent Bucky off and stayed with him. You rolled your eyes internally, then accompanied Bucky to the market, where the two of you ate some plums and took a little walk. When the two of you returned to the flat, Zemo announced that it was time to head to the funeral.

"Did you enjoy your little excursion with James?" Zemo inquired in Sokovian, a tinge of spite in his voice. "Did you relieve his tension?"

"It wouldn't be any of your business if I did," you shot back, also in Sokovian. The disdain on his face disappeared quickly, and you added, "But no, we just took a walk and had some food, as I said we would. Jealousy does not suit you, Baron."

Zemo's voice took on a gentler tone, the Sokovian dripping from his tongue like honey as he said, "My apologies, darling. You are just so magnificent that I want you all to myself; the thought of you with another man is enviable."

"Don’t apologize. Just end it."

He nodded, and before either of you could say anything else, that asshole John Walker showed up, along with his partner. They demanded that Sam and Bucky no longer keep them in the dark, but ultimately, Walker conceded to follow Zemo, and allow Sam the opportunity to talk to Karli alone. As Sam walked off, Walker grabbed Zemo forcefully and handcuffed him to some kind of metal contraption on the wall.

"Aggressive. But I get it," Zemo quipped. He turned to you, and in Sokovian, said, "Once I get out of these, perhaps we could use them to our advantage later this evening."

"Zip it, Zemo."

Unsurprisingly, Walker betrayed his agreement with Sam, barging in on the memorial before Sam's allotted time was up.

"Uh-uh. No, no, no, no. This is a bad idea."

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight," Bucky responded calmly.

"Don’t do that. Don't patronize me."

"Then do not behave so childishly," you retorted, and Bucky elbowed you while Walker shot you an icy glare. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky cut him off, aiming to divert the subject before Walker pushed you any further.

"He knows what he's doing."

Walker was silent for a moment more, before he grabbed the shield – which shouldn't be in his possession in the first place – and marched toward the door. "I'm goin' in."

Bucky stopped him, but after Walker guilt-tripped him, Bucky stepped to the side to allow him to pass. You groaned in exasperation the second Walker walked off.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"It was either that, or you and me fight Walker and Battlescar – or whatever his stupid code name is. I'm already on probation, and I helped the guy that split up the Avengers break out of prison. I really don't need ‘beat the shit out of the new Cap’ added to my list of wrongdoings," Bucky said, running a hand through his hair before clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go find Sam."

As Bucky jogged off in the direction Walker had gone, you followed while grumbling, "My preference would have been the latter, but no, why would anyone ask for my opinion? I'm just the pet mind reader."

When the two of you caught up to Walker and Hoskins, the former was thrown into a table by Karli, and she ran off. Bucky chased after her, and you took another route to try to intercept her, to no avail. You caught up with Sam and Bucky a few minutes later, out of breath as Sam commented that the building was like a maze, and you wholeheartedly agreed. By the time the three of you found the others, Karli was gone, Walker was just standing there, and Zemo was out cold on the floor.

Walker and Hoskins stated that they were going to search for Karli, and ran off. Bucky threw Zemo over his shoulder like a damn ragdoll, and the three of you trudged back to Zemo’s flat, a little worn out and a little defeated. Once there, Bucky threw him down on the couch, and Zemo bounced limply atop the cushions, still unconscious. Sam began working on his laptop, and Bucky went on yet another walk, while you searched for the first aid kit.

Zemo looked surprisingly peaceful and non-threatening as he laid there, appearing to be asleep. You kneeled beside his head and lightly applied some antiseptic on the cut left by Cap's shield, right at the top of his hairline, and you found yourself admiring him. He had soft features for a man so dark inside; soft chestnut brown hair, adorable nose, slight bit of stubble across his gentle jawline and neck. You began dabbing the antiseptic again, still lost in your own thoughts when he awoke very suddenly, grabbing your wrist in a fierce grip out of reflex. Zemo's eyes were wide when he first opened them, but upon seeing you, he visibly relaxed and released his grip on you.

"Apologies," he whispered, then groaned softly when he felt the pain in his head. You stood silently and retrieved a rag from the drawer beside the sink, wetting it with cold water, then filled a glass with some ice and brandy and returned, handing both items to Zemo. He thanked you very sincerely, then laid the rag over his forehead and eyes, and held the glass atop his chest.

You were grateful that Sam hadn't noticed you doting on him, too focused on his laptop, because he'd have definitely asked you about it, and you didn't even have an answer for yourself. It wasn't like there was any need or obligation for you to tend to him like that, and yet you did without even thinking. As you took a seat opposite Zemo on the couch, you told yourself that it was merely payback for how he assisted you with your own injury the day before, and left it at that.

It wasn't long before Walker and his partner showed up again, demanding to place Zemo under arrest. You, Sam, and Zemo all stood when he burst through the doors, all silently conglomerating to one side of the room. Walker had the gall to threaten Sam, and it had your fingers twitching on the gun in your thigh holster in rage. Before anything could come of that, the Wakandans Bucky had mentioned showed up, and when Walker tried talking down to them before placing a hand on one's shoulder, melee ensued.

You leaned on the bar with one arm, watching in amusement as Walker got his ass handed to him. Zemo seemed to be in the same boat, observing without expression as he passed you his drink, and you took a couple of sips before returning it.

"We should do something," Sam said to you and Bucky.

"Looking strong, John!"

"Yes, excellent form! Top notch," you added. "Really showing them the prowess of the new Captain America!"

"Bucky…" Sam chided, prompting Bucky to finally intervene. Sam looked to you, and you held your hands up in defense.

"I am not fighting the goddamn Dora Milaje. I don't feel like dying today – especially not for the sake of helping John Walker."

Sam sighed before joining the fight himself, and that was when Zemo’s hand enveloped yours, silently tugging you towards the bathroom. You opened your mouth to say "Is this really the time for a quickie?" but he held a finger to his lips, effectively silencing you. Once he had successfully guided you into the bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him, and shoved the tub to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

"Come with me," Zemo said simply, and you scoffed.

"I'm not abandoning Sam and Bucky. My place is here."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, your assignment is to keep an eye on me. Although I'd rather not have to, I will overpower you if I must, because I will be leaving now. So, it is technically your job to follow me, and it would behoove you to simply follow your comrades’ orders without an unnecessary scuffle."

The man really didn't miss a beat, did he? Sam and Bucky had, in fact, assigned you to watch Zemo. Although it was implied that that was everyone's task, they had specifically delegated the role to you. So, it was a matter of whether or not you could take Zemo in a fight, and although you secretly hoped he'd go easy on you, you knew that his own self-preservation was his chief concern.

"Fine," you grumbled, not missing the smile on his face as you shoved past him and jumped down into the tunnel.

Your joints ached in protest of your actions, but you ignored it. He was right behind you, not even bothering to cover the passageway back up before taking off in one of the three directions that the tunnel led to. You were right behind him, and it wasn't long before the sounds of the scuffle faded away. Roughly five minutes later, you reached the end, and he pushed aside the manhole above you and climbed out. Zemo took your hands and helped you out as well, before replacing the manhole while you surveyed the area. It was a city street, but they all looked the same in Riga, so you had no idea where you were.

"Come on," Zemo said, lacing his fingers with yours as you ran down the street. He took a few turns and ended up in the town square, where he led you into a hotel. As you entered the lobby, he explained, "We'll stay here for a few hours, essentially hiding in plain sight, to allow the Dora Milaje and Walker time to leave and search for me elsewhere."

You nodded, and as you approached the front desk, Zemo wrapped his arm snugly around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Do you have any availability for the night?" Zemo inquired, then smiled lovingly at you. "It is our wedding day, and my beautiful bride simply cannot wait until we reach our honeymoon destination to get her hands on me."

You sent Zemo a quick glare, but the man at the desk didn't notice. He chuckled and nodded, saying something about "What a happy couple" as he booked the room for you. Zemo ignored your pointed look and kissed your temple, thanking the man and paying for the room before leading you in the direction of the room. As soon as you were out of earshot of the desk clerk, you glowered at Zemo once again, although his arm remained around your waist until you reached the room. Not that you minded, really.

"'Beautiful bride'? 'Honeymoon'? Really?"

"Yes," Zemo replied calmly, unlocking the door and opening it for you. As you walked past him, he elaborated, "If Walker comes looking for me, he'll be asking for a former SHIELD agent and a criminal. If the gentleman at the desk is convinced we're a happy newlywed couple, he won't even think to mention us to Walker."

It didn't take more than half a second to find his genuine answer in his mind. "How smoothly and effortlessly you lie, Zemo. You simply wanted to touch me again, so you came up with a convenient excuse."

Zemo licked his lips subtly, before shrugging with a small smile, wordlessly saying 'you got me there.'

"We need to get back to Sam and Bucky once Walker and the Dora Milaje are gone, but there's no foolproof way to go about it," you began pacing the room, as Zemo remained fixed beside the wall. "If I text Sam or Bucky, Walker will know they got a message, and they're both the worst liars I've ever met. God knows we don't need the Dora having any idea about where you are, you wouldn't last a full minute before they drove a spear through your chest. We also can't wait around too long, because then Sam and Bucky might leave Riga, and —"

You were still pacing and mid-sentence when Zemo suddenly grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. His other hand rested on the curve of your waist, pulling you against his chest. The surprise of the act and subsequent warm feeling in your stomach absolutely obliterated all other thoughts from your mind, and all you could focus on was him.

At some point, you regained your senses, albeit still in a haze. You pressed your palms to his shoulders and shoved him a few inches back, and he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes and lust-blown pupils.

“We – we need to focus on Sam and Bucky,” you managed to stammer out, but Zemo simply cupped your cheek and stroked the side of your face with his thumb.

“Is that truly what you want to be focusing on, Schatz?” Zemo inquired, his voice low, taking on even more of a gravely tone than usual. It flooded your veins with heat and desire, and you found your eyes fluttering closed as he bent down to pepper your neck with kisses. “Or would you rather simply wait out Walker and the Dora Milaje here, with me? Allowing me to touch you, taste you, in all the ways I know you crave?”

The final shred of your sanity left the building when he gently bit down on your neck, at the point where it met your shoulder, and you found yourself releasing a breathy moan and melting into his touch. Zemo wasted no time in kissing you once again, lips fast and insistent on yours, one hand on the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other on the nape of your neck once again. His body leaned into yours as he kissed you with fervor, and your hands longingly grasped the front of his sweater. Eventually, Zemo abruptly spun you around to press your back against the wall that had previously been behind him, and he hiked one of your legs up onto his hip, gripping it under your thigh. His other hand slowly moved from the back of your neck to the front, fingers curling deliciously around your throat as he applied a little pressure, earning another airy moan from you.

As if on reflex, his hips bucked up into you, and the friction left you mewling. Just like last time, it seemed to be your noises that set Zemo off, as he released a low growl from the back of his throat and dropped your leg to tear your shirt off while you took the hint and kicked off your shoes. He undid the fasten on your jeans with lightning speed, and yanked them – along with your panties – down past your hips so you could kick them both off. Next went your bra, which was flung god knows where in the room, and Zemo took a small step back to admire you.

It only lasted for a split second, because you then grabbed the straps he wore around his shoulders and used them to pull him in and kiss him again. Zemo’s hands glided slowly, sensually down your shoulders, your back, then came to rest upon your ass, grabbing it fiercely with both hands. His hands trailed further down, to the undersides of your thighs, before he lifted you with surprising ease and carried you over to the bed at the center of the room. Zemo threw you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, gaze locked on your chest as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, but you were quick to sit upright and pull him back in by the shoulder straps. You removed them then, as well as his turtleneck and belt buckle, and he was cooperative in removing his own boots and slacks, leaving him in his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric there.

When you reached out to remove his briefs, Zemo pushed you to lay down by your shoulder, and knelt down at the edge of the bed, opening your legs at the knee with a harsh grip. You didn’t even have time to blink before he dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit before moving to your clit as your head fell back onto the mattress and your eyes fluttered closed. He focused primarily on your clit, occasionally lapping at your folds, but always returning his attention to that bundle of nerves. Gasps and moans were already falling for your lips, but when his middle finger and ring finger entered the fray, you found yourself crying out his name and tangling your fingers in his hair.

That delectable little growl of his escaped him once more, and you felt the vibrations of it against you, which warranted another moan, and Zemo’s fingers began delving in and out of your core at a steadfast pace. When he began curling them upwards, rubbing them against that sweet spot deep inside you, you were a goner. He wanted more of your beautiful sounds of pleasure, wanted to see you become more and more undone for him. You only lasted a couple minutes longer, growing progressively louder and more unhinged with each passing second. You were then launched over the edge, one hand tugging on his chestnut tresses and the other gripping the comforter of the bed, crying out his name amongst various explicatives.

When your eyes opened again, Zemo was standing, kicking off his boxers as he made eye contact with you while he sucked his fingers clean of you. He had set his wallet on the bedside table in the midst of your pacing, so he retrieved it and pulled a condom from one of the compartments. You sat up and snatched it from him, quickly tearing it open and rolling it down over his length. The sensation caused a sigh to leave his lips, before murmuring, "Eager, are we, Kätzchen?"

Electing to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed with you, wordlessly instructing him to lay down by pressing your hands on his chest. Zemo got the message with ease, happily complying as you straddled him. The sight of you sinking down on his clock, your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself, caused him to groan in pleasure. Far too eager to spend an abundant amount of time adjusting to him, you began moving, rocking your hips back and forth at a resolute pace, savoring the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Zemo's hands rested on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin as he helped you keep your rhythm, while he gazed up at you as if you were a goddess in the flesh, his jaw hanging open slightly and hair disheveled.

By the time you were approaching your second orgasm, Zemo could tell, from the faltering of your hips as they strove to increase their speed, and from the way your nails raked down his chest each time you used his length inside you to hit that special spot there. He began thrusting up into you, eager to feel you come on his cock. You unintentionally caught a passing glance at his thoughts, and learned that it seemed that he always wanted more of you, needed more of you, to the point that he questioned if you had toyed with his mind somehow. You were about to inform him that no, you had not done anything to his mind, when he trusted particularly hard and deep up into you and his fingertips dug deliciously hard into your hips at the same time, and all sensual thoughts left your mind as you met your release a second time.

Still shaking slightly and moaning breathlessly, Zemo flipped you over onto your back, lifted your calf up onto his hip and held it there, and began pistoning in and out of you at a desperate, unforgiving pace. When your eyes fluttered open, you found that he was practically snarling above you, teeth bared in concentration and an intense fire in his eyes. It reminded you that his softness toward you did not change the fact that he was a criminal mastermind and former kill squad leader, who had done a great many terrible things. Yet the thought only made you want him even more, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a heated, haphazard kiss.

Zemo thrust in and out of you like a man on a mission, the sound of his pelvis colliding with yours filling the room, before he pulled out of you long enough to flip you onto your chest, face in the pillows and ass in the air, then resumed his pace. The new angle felt incredible, and it didn't take long before you were moaning into the pillows, fists clenched around the duvet. In the blink of an eye, Zemo grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you upright, your back flush against his chest.

"Do not hide your beautiful noises from me, Liebling. I want to hear you," Zemo commanded, and you moaned in response, both as a confirmation of his words and as a natural reaction to the low, gravely tone his voice took on. His hand moved to encase your neck, tilting your head back even further so he could trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, before biting down on your shoulder, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "Now tell me, Kätzchen: who makes you feel this good?"

"You," you choked out, groaning in pleasure when his fingers tightened their grip on your throat.

"Me, what?"

"You, Baron," you corrected, and Zemo hummed in approval, kissing you quickly in praise. He gave your neck another squeeze before throwing you back down onto the mattress, his hands on your hips as he returned his focus to fucking the very soul out of you.

As his hips began to stutter into yours and soft moans began falling from his lips, signaling he was approaching his end, Zemo reached around your body to begin expertly rubbing your clit, desperate for you to finish in unison. The way your walls fluttered around him let him know that he was on the right track, so he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit, careful to maintain the angle he was thrusting at. As you fell apart beneath him a third and final time, your scream of "Baron!" and your core clenching around him like the most luxurious vice, Zemo found himself crying out your name in accompaniment with a low, guttural moan, spilling himself into the condom.

Zemo didn't move for a moment, hands still clutching your hips, albeit with a looser grip now, as he fought to catch his breath. Still panting, he slowly removed himself from you, falling into a sweaty heap beside you. Breathing heavily yourself, you leaned over to kiss him – far slower this time, both of you reveling in post-coitus bliss. He affectionately brushed your hair away from your face, as it had been stuck to your forehead from perspiration, before stroking your cheek with his thumb.

A brief eternity later, Zemo stood and headed to the restroom, no doubt disposing of the condom, before returning in one of the hotel’s white bathrobes and holding a cold rag. He flopped down onto the mattress, placing the towel over his forehead and eyes as he had earlier in his flat.

“Apologies, Schatz. As enjoyable as that was, it certainly did not help my migraine,” Zemo explained, blindly reaching out to grab your hand and bring it to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You murmured a dismissive ‘you’re fine’ before heading to the washroom yourself, hopping into the shower and allowing the burning temperature of the water to ease the ache in practically all your muscles – some of it from fighting, some of it from fucking – although you suspected that the ache in your thighs, from being so tense throughout the multiple orgasms, wasn’t going away anytime soon. Thankfully, Zemo truly had done a marvelous job on your stitches, and the wound was already healing up nicely. By the time you finished your shower, the steam had clouded the room and coated the mirrors with condensation, but you felt more relaxed than you had in days. Donning a bathrobe yourself, you exited the bathroom, and situated yourself in the chair beside the floor-to-ceiling window on the wall of the room. Zemo was snoring softly, and the quiet tranquility of the room and the comfort of your seat sent you into a cat nap of your own, your head falling back against the chair as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were entirely unsure how long you had slept, but when you awoke, Zemo was sitting with his back resting against the headboard, reading a random book he’d found in the room’s nightstand. He looked up at you long enough to flash you a small smile, before returning to the book. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, then sat up straighter in the chair and gazed out the window beside you. You hadn’t noticed, but the room had a lovely view of the town square.

A few minutes after you began observing the city below, your eyebrows practically shot up into your hairline as you saw none other than the bastard himself, John Walker, chasing one of the Flag Smashers before hitting him with the shield, sending the man flying into the statue at the center of the square. Each member of the bustling crowd stopped dead in their tracks, watching the scene unfold before them, as this new Captain America placed his foot on the man’s chest, pinning him against the stairs of the statue, as the man screamed, “It wasn’t me!”

The chair you were sitting in clattered to the floor as you stood bolt upright, a shuddering gasp escaping you and your hand flying to your mouth as you watched Walker raise the shield high above his head, a completely unhinged look upon his face. Zemo was at your side in an instant, his hands on your upper arms as he stood behind you, a worried expression on his face, wondering what could have caused you such distress. Before he had the chance to ask, Zemo’s eye caught the scene below, and you both watched in shock and horror as John Walker drove the shield into the Flag Smasher’s chest, again and again and again, until the man just laid there – bloodied, bludgeoned, and unmoving. Dead, at the hands of the new Captain America.

—————

@henrysmorgan @clints-lucky-arrow @therenlover

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Okay but vamp!harry x reader where the reader goes for a late night walk alone because she’s feeling anxious (Harry tries to insist on coming with but she says no) but soon he can sense somethings wrong and goes to look for her and finds her in a dangerous situation! I need protective vampire Harry 🥺

Disclaimer: Reader with ADHD, Vampire!H x fem!reader, cock warming.

Harry's been doing humanly things. Moreso trying for his little human whom he doesn't want to dissapoint when she's making ećlairs or pop tarts for him and all he knows is to eat them despite of being a helping hand. His fingers are magical —--- they relax her in the most livid way while he's feeding from her. Honestly, it's all she wants. Her making sweets for him and him pleasuring her in the most bizarre way.

But. Sometimes she get's emotionally exhausted that the physical activities looks like breaking a mountain for her and all she does is snuggle under the snoozy layers of her childhood blankets cuddling her cat to calm her down.

Now her tranquility is Harry.

It's one of those days. She's been feeling like a failure. An utter dimwit for not getting what's happening in her sociology class, why her neighbours are always grumpy with her and why she isn't able to study anything. It's depressing her.

Harry never left her side. She's like a honey gooed all over him not even letting him bring the pizzas he ordered for them, "Don't!" She squeaks in a weak voice catching his wrists and he sits back cupping the nape of her neck looking straight in her eyes to assure her with his whole existence, "'ey baby . . my sweet girl 'm not goin' anywhere. Delivery boy's been waiting outside -- just a mo', yeah?" He sponges a gentle kiss at her temple stroking her cheek to calm her down.

They've rented a VR receiver and alot of silver movies watching them while eating pizza. She giggles and Harry smiles goofily when he had to hit the receiver twice to make it work, "c'mon you should know how all of this work old man." He strides towards her pulling her up with armpits into his embrace and tickling hard.

"Old man huh!? Ol' ma —" He pretends to eat her whole and she squeals between her laughs, "'m sorry you're my man!" Huffs smugly giving her a breather and pecks her not twice but thrice. If he could kiss her all day. He would. She's his human. It surprises him sometimes when he's alone with his thoughts. He loves her to fucking bits and pieces.

When she's like this everyone and everything feels outta her reach. As if they're miles away from her and she's standing in barren cold. In the amidst of sappy movie she shrinks closer to him stuffing her face into his ribs wounding her leg around his abdomen and he makes her feel warm wrapping his arms around her to push her up on his thigh. Snapping his gaze down at her when the lil sniffs of her reached his ears, "What's wrong kitten . . . hurts to see ya like this baby. Love you so much." He never fails to promise that he loves her to core.

"'M jus . . . thinking tha –-- that when I'll die you'll be still here 'n . . . 'n y'would get so lonely." She hiccups without a break, "Dunno. Can't stop crying 'm sorry." She gives out an ugly sob into his chest. It's breaking his already feeble heart. God he could scream the affection to the moon he have for this girl. In such a tragic moment all she is thinking is about him.

He cups squishes both her cheeks with his calloused palms telling her to breath with slow gestures then when she's way better speaks in his softest voice, "My baby listen to me hmm? We're never thinking of future don't wan'ye to wreck ye'r beautiful brain for stupid deaths --- secondly too bad miss Y/N 'm gonna cling to ye like leech of your nightmares." He wipes her tears away ever so caringly and gives her eskimo kisses while she giggles snorting at the end when Harry brought his big goldfish orbs in the middle to make her laugh.

"'M glad to have you." She whispers smudging her wet lips softly against his's into a heart melting blood warming kiss and Harry shushes her when she whines clutching the hem of his sweater, "bite me? She asks politely rather than being batty as for she was being within past days rilling him upto extreme to get her neck and skin sprinkled with hickeys that turns into bites.

"Don't wanna hurt ye', lovie." He pushes her hair away peering down at her with pleading worried eyes, "you wouldn't. promise." He nods flushing her against his chest positioning her head into the crook of his neck. Making her hug him like a koala bear.

Rubs her back. Pats her hair. Sways her along him rather than the seductive warnings he used to give her. He's afraid. She's too fragile at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if something will happen to her, "'m gonna bite. Stop me if ye' don't want it o' hurts." He runs his palms at her sides making her all squirmy.

He pushes her fangs ever so gently to her sweet spot. If she's made of glass making her moan and tight her grip around him warming up his cock in his trousers. It's not always about you dumber. He scolds himself. Suckling lightly and pulling back in a pinch of moment. It's the first time he has almost pretended to drink from her. She's all sleepy in his hold. He carries her to bed and when tries to untangle himself so he could turn the telly off she whines not letting him.

Despite of these much blankets she's still feeling cold. From inside. It feels empty and she isn't liking it at all. Writhes and squirms causing Harry to ask, "ye okay there lovie'?" When she shakes her head with glassy eyes and a pout he understands.

"Cold." Is all she had to say and he's guessing the next, "in ye'r tummy?" When she bobs her head confirming he sighs softly pulling the elastic of his trousers down to free his dick getting rid of the item woving his calves with her, thighs between thighs and places a firm hand on her back moving his thumb into circles non-stop.

"Oh me lil dovlin' c'mere . . want me cock to warm ye up baby? 'S okay s' okay darlin'." He murmurs against her lips tugging at his foreskin hissing when the head of his thick cock gets pushed between their bellys due to approximty. Precome oozes from his strokes and he takes her panties off swiping his crown over her hole to lubricate her. Wounds his arm around the nape of her neck to lap at her mouth swallowing her whines and cries while sliding inside her compact walls twisting his stomach awfully, "shhh. shhh baby love. I got ya. Gonna take care of ye ---- try to sleep. I'll be waiting fo' ye in the morning." Once, situating himself deep and snug inside her. He keeps on embracing her like a little baby.

Next morning though she woke up happy. Harry made her brekkie. Special smiley pancakes with heart shaped eyes from the little strawberry toppings. He really took advantage of his time while she was snoring her ass off. A peach smoothie and cashewnuts. Fed Meowsie. Gave her his morning lovin'. They had the meal together.

He helped her learn some of her course. Then in afternoon made lunch together egg fried rice and stirred vegetables Y/N went to give some of it to their neighbours. Lady Nat asked her if she's okay cause she has stopped stomping in her flat and it made her feel good, weirdly.

Maybe it's seasonal sadness that she couldn't get out of it. Harry's in the kitchen cleaning up shelves when he hears the rustle of carpet. He peeks from the wall to find her pooling into a big hoodie and slipping into her shoes. He frowns throwing the rag away to walk towards her immediately, "where ye' goin' lovie? Ye' okay what happened?" He runs his hands over her shoulders to her hair making her meet his eyes.

She nods squeezing his wrists, "don't worry just wanna . . . take a walk — clear my head." Hearing this he quickly moves to wear his jacket.

"'M goin' with you." He declares and she knows if that'll happen she wouldn't be able to, "No. Alone." She fumbles with the strings of her hoodie. He sighs not fond of the idea brows knighting together thumbing at her jaw with concern screaming in his eyes.

"Can I mark you then?" He asks knowing what hides in the shadows of outside; creatures evil than his entire existence. He doesn't want to make her feel like she owes him explanations for her each and every movement but gosh does it scare him to his bones. She's the only person who could make him weak into knees and a mesh of puddle at the thought of even the thorn pricking her, "okie." She cranes her neck and it still amuses him she's exactly how she was when he first met her. That gentle rose under the moon meant for Harry to care and water with love.

After adorning her with a crimson mark and little peck he tugs her closer hooking his nose to her hair taking a good sniff of her cocoa scent, "keep your phone in ye' hand and don't walk through the cherry street." There's nothing there but stray dogs that she's afraid of. It's better he advises her.

"Ai. Ai captain!" She salutes him stomping her feet and he chuckles kissing her cheek wet-ly, "Go before I change me mind."

He wanted it not to creep it to his mind but it's not helping AT ALL. He's been restless and it's been fifteen minutes since she has left. He's sitting sunk into sofa with Meowsie snuggled under his chin while he shakes his knees, cracks his knuckles, combs his hair and groans into his palms. In short throwing tantrum like a toddler missing her already and constantly worrying about her. Something doesn't feel right at all. That gut wrenching horror of losing her biting him alive.

He mutters a fuck it going to look for her and bring her back home. He was right. He has always been. Good at instincts. For fuck's sake. He's a vampire!

Y/N was walking along the path which's the lead way to a park when a dark vibe gloomed over her head. The next she knows is she's being pinned to a wall with demonic eyes snatching at her soul: it takes her breath away outta horror.

"No wonder why Harry kisses the earth you walk on." He chuckles darkly accent an old Scottish and she gulps eyes stinging with tears, "I would to . . if I get to drink such sweet ripe blood." Her eyes widens when his fangs pokes out from his gums glistening under the lamp light.

She tries to kick him in balls to get rid of his painful grip when an angry growl echoes towards them loudly and the person who had her trapped wooshes from her sight in a bolt to ground making her shriek.

"She's not a fuckin' feeder stay the fuck away from her!!" Harry grits spitting venom. Choking the person under him, "tol' ya she's my girl and I'll shred everyone alive if they'll even breath in her direction." She has never seen him this furious. Tone harsh and snappy she never heard coming from him it makes her cry.

He had warned his fellows when the news of him spread that he has bonded to human. But well they've thick skulls.

The man under him just smirks pushing him away and coughing into his elbow standing up. "Whatever thought sharing is caring, Styles." Harry glares him resentfully. Fisting a punch at his side but stables himself when a dainty hand wraps around his fingers clutching tight.

He turns ducking down to her level cupping her cheeks and tries to examine her for any kind of injury, "ye' okay? Did he hurt you? Tell me and — " she rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie shaking her head vigorously.

"No. 'M fine sorry should've listened to you." He puffs out a breath of guilt letting his forehead fall against her's, "don't be sorry -- it's none of ye'r fault baby."

"Glad you're safe." He whispers hugging her with the sway of bodies, "I love you." She tells him honestly tip-toeing to kiss him and it unfortunately reaches his silky jaw only.

"And all the things you do for me." He grins down at her. He lives on praises. The cheeky bastard.

"How about eatin' ice-cream while taking swings in the park?" He intertwines their hands warmly kissing her knuckles and she quips excitedly, "sounds great!"

AN: idk why read more button isn't working sorry for the bug.

#harry styles smut #anon request #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry angst #dom harry #harry styles vampire smut #vamp!h #vampire harry

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ssamie · 3 years

Text

eight. “nakahara chuuya”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide and mild violence

masterlist. suicide freak!

instead of eating out with the team, her lovely afternoon turned into a not-a-date-but-kinda with chuuya

"yaknow, chuuya.. you haven't changed at all" she commented. she twirled her straw around the glass of her milkshake as she briefly glanced at chuuya from across her

"hah?! what's that supposed to mean??" chuuya exclaimed angrily

"i've always wondered about this" she hummed "but where do you get your embarrassing hats?" she asked

chuuya clicked his tounge as he angrily sipped on his milkshake. "say what you want, vogabond" he said

"i bet you're still going on and on about suicide despite your age, aren't ya?" chuuya sneered

"yeah" she nodded

he sighed and leaned back on his chair. "atleast pretend to deny that" he said

she sighed and leaned back as well. "what are we doing here, chuuya?" she asked with a huff "im guessing it's not a date. well, unless it is, then-"

"shut up! it's a not a goddamn date!" chuuya snapped

she chuckled and threw her hands up in mock surrender. "chill out, chuuya" she cooed "and not like i'd care anyways." she muttered "im still chasing after a certain pudding head so i'd rather this be a little reunion, if anything."

chuuya's scowl softened at her words. his brows nit together as he blinked dumbfoundedly at her.

"you love someone?" he asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

"i wouldn't say love" she shrugged "more like close friends, im currently convincing him to commit a double suicide with me"

"oh." chuuya mumbled

she rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on her hands. "why did you find me, chuuya." she asked, but with her tone it was more of a demand for the answer

chuuya didn't reply but simply crossed his legs over the other. he chuckled lowly and leaned in closer to her face. "im here to take you down." he whispered "you and your agency may have fooled and escaped from akutagawa, but not me."

chuuya grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head closer, so that their noses were touching.

"im your old partner, after all" he smirked

"indeed you are" she smirked back

chuuya grinned, mischief in his eyes as he roughly pulled her head back and tilting it to the left. he then leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

"what the fuck?" kenma muttered in disbelief

"old partner?" kuroo muttered in confusion

a few of the boys, specifically kenma, kuroo, yaku, lev, and yamamoto, were hiding at the other side of the cafe. they were seated by the farthest booth covered by a huge plant, trying to spy on the two. thanks to chuuya's loud voice, they were able to hear bits of the conversation.

"maybe they were lovers?" lev suggested with an innocent smile on his face

"who even is he?" yamamoto asked in a whisper

"well, he could be an ex boyfriend or a friend, we wouldn't really know" yaku said with a sigh

"he has a point" kuroo sighed "we don't really know anything about her, if you think about it"

"we don't know what she was doing or who she was with before this"

"whatever, just shh!" yamamoto shushed him

"ah! i think he looked at me for a quick second" lev shuddered nervously

"what?? he saw you??" yaku asked frantically "that's because your head is almost touching the fucking ceiling! get down!"

"he's looking this way!" yamamoto whisper shouted

"shut up, yamamoto! you're too obvious!"

chuuya grumbled as he met eyes with the boys. he briefly glared at them before averting his eyes back to the girl. "those brats are watching us. tch" he said

"i know" she shrugged nonchalantly. "though, i would advise you not to hurt them" she chuckled

chuuya smirked and stared her down tauntingly.

"or what?"

"i'll kill you."

"ah, i see.." she hummed "you led me here to fight, is that it?" she looked around the deserted alleyway he brought them to.

chuuya clicked his tounge and nodded in response.

"well, i appreciate it" she chuckled "i wouldn't want kenma to see such violence"

"stop babbling about that kenma and fight me!" chuuya scowled as he ran towards her, throwing punches which she dodged. just as he was about to hit her, she grabbed his arm and punched him in the stomach, making him cough out his saliva.

"you call that a punch?!" he exclaimed as he swung his fist straight to her stomach, sending her back until she hit the wall.

"it doesn't even count as a massage." chuuya sneered "get up." he scoffed

she sighed and lifted herself up from the ground, stretching her arm and wincing in slight pain. "geez, i thought my blocking arm would get torn off" she said with a soft chuckle

"she predicted my moves.." chuuya whispered to himself

"we've known each other for a long time, chuuya. i know everything about you, your moves, your pacing." she said

"i wouldn't have been a proper partner if not, right?" she said with a teasing smile

"tch" chuuya scowled and threw a punch at her again.

she groaned in pain as his fist made contact with her cheek. "why are you so weak?" chuuya asked. just before she could fall back, he caught her by the neck, pushing her back against the wall and squeezing hard on her throat.

"the y/n i know would never be cornered down this fast, this easily." he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "what're you plotting in that head of yours"

she didn't answer but simply smirked as his grip on her throat tightened.

"answer me or i'll kill you!" chuuya exclaimed "right here, right now!"

"no you won't." she stated with a carefree smile "after all, i am a former mafia executive. and a current traitor, as you all see me." she chuckled "my execution for those reasons would be the council's desicion"

she smirked as chuuya's expression morphed into one of conflict and distress

"if you do kill me before that decision without permission, your act will be considered as betrayal" she said "you'll be punished, or worse, executed" she cooed

"and if i overlook all of those and kill you, you'll still be happy since you still managed to die." he scowled

she smiled and waved her hand about. "yeah, so go ahead. cmon!"

chuuya scoffed as she simply continued to pester him.

"coommmee ooonnnnn~"

chuuya didn't answer but simply stabbed a dagger straight to the wall beside her head. the blade managed to graze her cheek, letting a lone drop of blood travel down her skin up to the bandages on her neck.

she chuckled as she watched him stomp off in irritation. "oh, you're not going to?"

"chuuya driven out of the organization because of me had a nice ring to it too" she laughed

"shut up." he scowled

she plucked the blade out of the concrete wall and waved it around with a teasing look on her face. "well then, aren't you gonna walk me back like a proper gentleman? ~" she cooed

"like hell i will!" he snapped back. he sighed and turned back around, continuing to make his way out of the deserted alleyway.

"just shut your mouth and get outta here, you ass" he said as he lazily waved his hand in goodbye.

"i'll try to find a man or woman willing to kill themselves next time" he said

in an instant, her eyes sparkled. she looked at his retreating figure with wide eyes and a look of delight. "chuuya!" she exclaimed "i had no idea you were such a good person!" she said

"that was my way of saying 'go to hell', idiot!" chuuya barked back

"let me tell you this, y/n" he said "don't think this will be the end of it."

"there will be no second chance!" he yelled

she simply smiled fondly and shook her head "no, wrong!" she sneered "dont you think you're forgetting something?" she called out, making him stomp in anger

"dont-you-think-youre-forgetting-something? ~" she sang out

reluctantly, chuuya buckled his knees and pointed at her with a fake bashful look. "there will be no second chance!" he exclaimed in a higher pitched voice, imitating a girl.

she didn't respond with the proper reply they agreed on, but simply looked at him with a blank smile.

chuuya blinked back and repeated his words.

"n-no second chance.. HEY YOU SHOULD BE LAUGHING!"

"well, he didn't walk me back after all" she sighed to herself. she was currently making her way back to the agency since kunikida has been calling her nonstop. the megane has been whining about her missing work, while atsushi was simply begging her to come back to keep kunikida calm

on her way back, she passed a convenience store, which had an annoyingly huge amount of people bickering infront of it.

"oya?" she mumbled

"what's happening- eh?" she sweat dropped upon seeing yamamoto arguing with a man

she looked around to meet eyes with kenma, who looked like he wanted to anywhere else but there. kuroo noticed her too and smirked at his friend. "your lady's here, kyanma" he teased

kenma looked at her, a look of impatience and discomfort present in his face.

"good evening, everyone!" she greeted loudly

this caused all three of the nekoma boys, and three of the huge muscular men to look her way.

"what seems to be the problem here?" she asked with a nonchalant grin

"oi. walk away quietly before we give you some trouble, girl." the man arguing with yamamoto scowled

she simply side eyed him before looking back at kenma. "ken-ken, whyre you out so late?" she asked with a smile "i thought you had a new game you wanted to play"

"well.. they won't let us go." kenma answered quietly, pointing to the men with a frown

she faced the men with an exaggerated pout "why are you bastards causing my pudding trouble, hm?" she asked in a scolding tone

"y/n-chan.. you shouldn't provoke them" kuroo said with a nervous smile

"hah?! you tryna act tough, lil girl?" the men laughed "these scoundrels have been loitering in our spot." one man scowled "so we came to teach them a lesson." he grinned maniacly as he lifted the hem of his shirt, showing the gun inserted in his pocket.

"good grief." she sighed "another angsty gang. this is getting old" she whined "last time i checked, you didn't own this store so these boys are free to stay here whenever they want" she said

"and carrying a gun without a liscense is a major offense." she pointed to his pocket.

she then pushed kuroo, kenma and yamamoto away. "but since you're so hell bent. we'll spare you the trouble."

"good riddance~" she cooed at the men

she pushed the nekoma boys by their backs, urging them to walk faster while yamamoto looked back to flip them off.

"oi oi oi,, not so fast" the men laughed. one of them tugged her back by her arm, laughing once he saw the bandages and the cuts she had on her face from her previous fight with chuuya.

"a girl like you tryna act tough is laughable. but since you're here, you might as well play nice and be our little toy"

she grimaced and pulled her arm back, sending them a dirty look.

"after all, it's pay back for giving us all a headache." he said with a smirk

"oi! get your filty hands off y/n-chan!" yamamoto exclaimed angrily

she looked back at him and smiled in gratitude, though she simply tucked her hands in her pockets and ignored them.

"im afraid i won't be agreeing to your request." she scoffed "we'll be leaving now" she announced as she grabbed yamamoto and pulled kuroo and kenma along

"get back here, you bastards!" the most bulky man reached out, trying to grab one of them.

unfortunately for him, the person he manged to grab was kenma.

"h-hey!" kenma shrieked, trying to pull his arm back

she stopped in her tracks and immediately ran back to his aid. she pulled his other arm back and shielded him with her body. "hands off." she said with a dark look in her eyes.

"you little-" the man was cut off as a fist came contact with his face.

a loud and unnerving cracking and popping of bones could be heard as her fist rammed on his face.

"my, my.." she cooed, holding her hand up as she watched the man stumble back on the ground. "normally i'd say i'd hate for this to resort in violence.. "

"but that would be a lie" she chuckled

kuroo, kenma, and yamamoto gulped as they watched the fight ensue. "y-y/n-chan, let's just leave." kuroo says nervously "the guys have guns" he warned

"correction. one of them has a gun." she said

the two remaining men laughed at her claim and pulled out guns of their own. "don't get so cocky, little girl"

she simply ignored them and continued speaking to kuroo, as if it were a normal conversation. "those two blockheads don't have a single bullet in theirs." she said nonchalantly

the two men gulped as they laughed nervously.

"only an idiot would point a revolver at someone without a single presence of a bullet in them." she laughed

"ah, sorry kuroo-san! another correction. none of them have a utile weapon in hand" she chuckled

kuroo cocked his head in confusion. "then what about him.." he pointed to the man on the ground

the poor fellow who had to take a gruesome hit was still on the ground, sporting a broken nose and a missing tooth.

"you see, stuffing a gun in your pocket is pretty stupid!" she scoffed "stupid, stupid stupid!" she taunted. she stuck her tongue out at them and pulled on her eye, teasing them like a child.

"it'd be easy for the other person to grab it." she said "that being said.."

she showed them the gun, hanging on her finger by the trigger guard. she smirked and pointed it at the bruised man, ignoring the other two as her finger grazed the trigger.

"now.. tell me, mister." she cooed "are you the leader of this gang?" she asked

"y-yes." the man answered reluctantly

surprisingly, she didn't pull the trigger on him, but simply smiled in delight. "i see!" she exclaimed with a smile "well then, since you're the top dog, i'd say you should tell your little puppies to run off and leave my friends alone!"

"i-"

before he could utter another word, she pulled the trigger. but she didn't shoot him of course! she refuses to expose her friends to such inhumane acts.

"good! im glad to hear that!" she cheered happily, a stupid and giddy grin forming on her lips.

she thew the gun in a nearby canal and stuffed her hands back in her pockets. "if i see you bothering anyone else again," she trailed off, her grin faltering as an aloof expression loomed her features

"i'll punch you twice and shoot you five times."

but as quickly as she it had disappeared, her smile once again came to light. "well then, it's getting late.. bye-bye!" she waved at them

the men took this as a signal to run, which they did.

the three nekoma boys looked at each other with a horrified and hesitant expression before looking back at her.

"y/n..?" kenma called out

she turned around, her aura softening as her (e/c) orbs clashed with his honey hued ones.

"well then, let's head home?" she said to them

"uh.. we were-" kuroo cut himself off by clearing his throat. "we were heading to the train station!"

"perfect! should i walk you there?" she asked them "the agency is a few blocks down the station so it should be fine"

"y-y/n-chan!" yamamoto exclaimed "hm?" she hummed back questioningly "marry me!" yamamoto exclaimed, his eyes wide with a pink hue coating his cheeks

"sorry, yamamoto-kun" she cooed "but marriage is the farthest thing i have in mind at the moment"

she glanced at kenma, who was too busy silently hissing and glaring at yamamoto to notice even her

"i do, however, have our double suicide in mind, kenma-kun" she said. kenma stopped with his cat-like hissing and looked at her. "oh.. is that so.."

"mhm. well then, you all should head back!" she said “but kenma, you should stay with me!" she proposed

"why?" kenma sweatdropped

"we could have loads of fun back in my place! you'll love that, won't you?" she asked excitedly. she hugged his arm close and rested her head on his shoulder, thus making walking a bit hard for them, but she didn't mind.

"no."

"aww! we could share the bed, and have-"

"oya oya~" kuroo cooed "am i hearing this correctly~"

"y/n-chan!! marry me instead! I'd love to stay at your place!" yamamoto cried

"ke-n-ma~ what do you say?" she cooed, blatantly ignoring yamamoto. kenma grumbled and looked away from them. he tried to pull his arm away from her, but failed.

"how are you guys acting so normally?" he asked "are we not gonna talk about y/n just beating up some guy and firing a gun?"

"nope!" she hummed

"what we will talk about, however, is my proposal of staying at my place!" she whined "i could please you all night long-"

"im walking away now." kenma announced as he pulled his arm from her and fastened his pace

"wait! i was talking about games and movies!" she reasoned out with a laugh "kenma!"

"i am walking away. goodbye."

im so bad at writing fights smh 😔

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thesightstoshowyou · 3 years

Text

Revenge

Arkin x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You find something special in one of the Collector’s trunks

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore, cuckholding, praise kink, daddy kink, creampie

This was another commission by the fantastic @roachcult. Another happy birthday present! Hope you enjoy <3

~~~

You weave through the maze of wire stretched across the hallway. Your motions are smooth, practiced; you’ve been sneaking around this hellscape so long it’s starting to become routine. Duck, jump, turn, twist…. It’s like memorizing a dance.

When you round the corner, you pause. The peeling red door at the end of the hall is closed. This could mean one of two things: One, the Collector simply closed it as he was leaving. This is unlikely; he never does anything without purpose. Which means the answer is two: He’s added a new victim to the collection.

It is morbid curiosity that draws you. There is nothing that could shock you worse than what you’ve already seen, what he’s already made you see. Carefully, you ease over the spikes protruding from the floor and avoid the boards that will break under your weight and send you plummeting into a nest of barbed wire. Your fingers close around the doorknob and twist.

The door swings open and you automatically duck, but nothing swings down from the other side. He must not have gotten around to setting the trap for this room yet. As you suspected, there’s a new red trunk sitting innocuously in the middle of the room.

You wait, listening intently. No noise from inside, which leads you to believe the trunk’s occupant is probably dead. Still, you’re curious. Curious, and so incredibly bored.

You’d taken to wandering the halls while the Collector is away, learning his traps, exploring rooms. You’ve given up on escape. Every exit to this enormous building is rigged; he would know immediately if you had escaped and it would take very little effort to track you down.

Besides, you don’t necessarily want to die. Not yet, anyway.

Tentatively, you approach the trunk. Cautious fingers unhook the locks. With a gasp you leap back as a body comes tumbling out of the trunk, a body that utters a pained groan when it hits the floor.

“Holy shit, you’re alive?” you say, quickly bending down to assess the extent of the man’s injuries. He’s beat to shit, covered in blood and lacerations from head to toe. He coughs and blinks up at you with heavy, bloodshot eyes. You gently take his gore-covered face in your hands until he’s looking right into your eyes.

“Stay still, don’t try to move. I’m going to get a few things and I’ll be right back.” You’re up and out the door in a flash, sprinting down the hall toward the Collector’s surgical room. Down a flight of stairs, around a few more corners, you find the heavy door and slip inside. As well as you can, you look past the carnage littering the exam tables. Hastily, you retrieve antibacterial ointment, a basin of water, wash rags, bottles of water, and as much gauze and bandages as you can carry.

You’re going to be in so much trouble when he gets back….

With difficulty, you manage to heave the injured man up onto a dusty armchair. You clean the dried blood and gore from his skin and treat his wounds as best you can. He cautiously watches your every move through half-lidded eyes, but when you lift the water to his mouth, he catches your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip.

“It’s not poisoned. See?” You take a sip, swallowing and opening your mouth. He watches you for another half a second before ripping the bottle from your hand and chugging. You hand him the second bottle without another word.

“Who are you?” he rasps once he’s emptied both bottles. His voice is soft, hoarse from a dry throat or screaming, but still pleasant. You want to hear more of it, desperate for anything other than the gravelly orders you’re given on a daily basis.

You tell him your name, then, “I’m, you know, like you. A part of the collection.”

“Collection,” he echoes, some dark emotion you can’t place crossing his face. Blue eyes snap back to yours before quickly assessing the rest of your body. Your cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. Meeting your gaze again and narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he says, “I know this mother fucker doesn’t discriminate, so why aren’t you all beat up?”

You chuckle dryly, standing and lifting your skirt to reveal the lacerations littering your inner thighs, all in various stages of healing. Next, you hook your fingers in your collar and drag it down your shoulder, showing him the bruised bite marks marring your flesh. The man drops his gaze and nods once in understanding.

“He doesn’t like to mess up my face, but everywhere else is fair game,” you say in a dull monotone. You’ve grown numb to it, numb to most things after living in this shithole for so long.

“Look, I’m—I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shifting in the chair and wincing. You shake your head.

“I’d be suspicious of me too. What’s your name?” You move behind him and urge him to lean forward so you can look at his back. You grimace at the deep wounds dotting his flesh, like little pits of ground beef.

“Arkin,” he replies, tensing when you begin to clean his injuries, applying ointment and gauze where you can. He asks, “How’d you find me?”

“I’ve been sneaking out of my room for awhile now. Gives me something to do besides staring at the wall. I’m sure…well, I’m pretty sure he knows, but he hasn’t said anything. So, I keep doing it.”

“You haven’t tried to get outta here?” he asks, leaning back when you’ve finished patching him up, “And thank you,” he adds, assessing the cleaned lacerations on the back so his hands.

“Can’t. Everything’s rigged. He’d find me before I made it very far.” Arkin pushes to his feet, grunting with the effort.

“Show me.” You bite your lip nervously. Walking around on your own is one thing, but leading someone else through this maze is another. The Collector will know. How harshly would you be punished?

Clenching your jaw, you steel yourself. Maybe Arkin knows something you don’t. Maybe he can disable the alarms.

You hold out your hand and advise, “You have to stay as close to me as you can. This place is a minefield.” Arkin grins sardonically at that.

“’Course it is.”

Arkin’s skin is warm against yours when his grips your hand. His palm is rough, calloused, but his fingers delicately brush the back of your hand. As you lead him through the halls, you wonder what he does for a living.

“Okay, we have to be quick down this next one. It’s on a timer,” you murmur as you peer around the corner. The stacked saw blades glint ominously from the ceiling. You wait for the metallic clank, then the whir as the blades roar to life. They tear down the hall at great speed before disappearing back into the ceiling to lie in wait once more.

Immediately, you slip around the corner, towing Arkin along behind you. You ease over a trip wire, and he does the same, but your heart sinks when you hear the clank. It’s early, too early. You whip around and watch as the rusty blades drop from the ceiling.

“In here!” you shout, slipping into a dimly lit supply closet to your right. Arkin follows and swings the door shut just as the blades whizz noisily past.

“Fucker. Must have changed the timer,” you mutter, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. It is then you become acutely aware of how small the closet is and how close Arkin stands to you. Timidly, you meet his gaze.

He’s looking at you, intently studying your expression. The single lightbulb hanging above you throws shadows across his face that darken the longer you stare. Anxiously, you bite your lip. You recognize the look in his eyes because you are thinking the exact same thing.

The Collector would be furious if you allowed someone else to touch you, especially another in his collection. He would kill you, undoubtedly. You can see Arkin weighing the pros and cons just as you do; he wants to, wants to sully something the Collector deems as his, wants the revenge. You want that too.

What the Collector doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Arkin starts to whisper, “Can I—

You hiss, “Fuck it,” at the same time and pop up on your toes to push your lips to his. He meets you gently, so tender you can’t help but gasp. It’s been so, so long since someone kissed you sweetly it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

Warm hands grip your hips, pulling you in until you’re flush against him. Your lips part to make room for his tongue and the quiet groan that leaves his throat. One hand slides up your waist, your arm, to cup your cheek. Slowly, he backs you up until you’re wedged between his body and the wall.

You break the kiss to take a breath before nuzzling the rough stubble along his jaw, trailing your lips across his neck. He groans again, fingers tangling in your hair when you place wet kisses to his pulse, under his ear. You taste copper on your tongue from the blood that still coats his skin.

“That’s real nice, baby,” he purrs and you shudder at the way his soft, deep voice shoots straight between your legs and makes you drip. His hands trail over your hips, lifting the hem of your dress so he can drag his palms across your ass, cupping handfuls of flesh and squeezing. One set of dexterous fingers slides around to the front, teasing you through your panties until you whine against his throat.

“That feel good, baby girl?”

“Yes, daddy,” you purr into his skin. He utters a strained, “Fuck,” under his breath, fingernails digging into your ass. He pushes your underwear to the side, coating his fingers in your slick and circles your clit until you moan his name and buck your hips.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl, I want you t’cum before I fuck you,” he growls through gritted teeth. You tip your head back to capture his mouth again and he eagerly swallows your mewls and whimpers. Warm pressure coils like a spring in your gut, your legs trembling the closer he brings you.

You bury your face into his neck to muffle your shriek of pleasure when the coil finally snaps, but Arkin doesn’t wait for you to come down. He twists you around, simultaneously lifting your skirt and unbuckling his belt. You feel warm, turgid flesh brush your ass, then deft fingers as he pushes your panties to the side. In one, smooth thrust, he slams his cock into your fluttering cunt, pulling a strangled shout from your lips.

One hand rests on your waist, the other around your neck as he snaps his hips. You meet each thrust, the both of you intent on thoroughly ruining something the Collector has claimed as his own. Arkin pants against your ear, fingers on your throat twitching as the sound of wet skin slapping against skin fills the little supply closet.

“Yeah, baby girl, you’re doing so good, taking me so good. Fuck, you’re wet, fucking perfect, what a sweet little pussy….” Filthy praise spills from the lips pressed to the shell of your ear. Dazedly, you nod, biting your lip to keep your moans contained in your mouth.

“You’re gonna make me cum again, daddy, please,” you whisper and Arkin responds with a brutal snap of his hips, one that makes you brace your hands against peeling wood.

“Good girl. Say it again.”

“Daddy, please, please, I’m going to cum, daddy, don’t stop—

“Fuck yes,” he hisses, pummeling you into the wall. He pushes bloody fingers into your mouth to silence your noisy, high-pitched moans. You suck the metallic taste off his digits, squealing around them when your back arches, beautiful heat rolling through your belly in waves. Arkin groans low in his throat, hips bucking erratically as he paints your cunt with slippery warmth.

Your knees knock together and you must hang onto the wall to stay on your feet. Arkin spins you around again, placing languid kisses to your trembling lips. You both jump when the mechanic whirr sounds outside as the blades race down the hall again. For one, wonderful moment, your world had shrunk to just your little closet. Nothing beyond this rotting door had mattered.

Arkin pants, slumping against you and you wrap your arms around his waist to help him stand. He was already exhausted before this little venture. You can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.

“Maybe we should go back, try again tomorrow—

“No. No, I can do it.” Arkin takes your face in his hands and earnestly mutters, “I’m gonna get us both out of here.”

You don’t believe him, but you smile and nod all the same.

#arkin #arkin o'brien #arkin x reader #arkin o'brien x reader #n sfw #the collector arkin #the collector 2009 #the collection #my writing

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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 3 years

Text

Fool For You (1/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Description: You are head over heels in love with the youngest Sinclair, but he could not be more oblivious to your feelings.

A/N: Thanks to @mynameisliterallycash for the request! I was hitting a wall with writing, but this helped get the gears turning again! I hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy!

The sun streaming through your window roused you from a steady slumber. You groaned, stretching out your limbs until you finally collapsed back onto the mattress with a sigh. The sleep from your eyes cleared as you thought of the dream you had last night. Your heart raced remembering the way he took you in his arms and finally said he loved you too. You were so happy you could cry and now you could almost cry at realizing it was just another dream. He seemed to be all that occupied your thoughts: Lester Sinclair.

Lester was all you had energy for these days. If you weren’t with him, you were thinking about when you’d see him again. Even your dream world revolved around him as he’d made an appearance almost every night lately. You were like a damn schoolgirl; and it was as exhilarating as it was humiliating. You thought you were past the days of pining over boys, but here you were.

Slowly, you’d fallen head-over-heels for the man. His self-effacing humor, kind heart, and generous nature won you over so effortlessly. You didn’t even realize where you were headed until your little crush became an intense, desperate love for you closest friend. It practically consumed you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Lester would just put you out of your misery. Falling in love with him was incredibly easy, but telling him was the biggest pain in your ass since Bo Sinclair.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. You tried hundreds of different ways – of varying levels of subtlety – to tell him how you feel. Extra physical affection? Nothing. Complimenting him on literally everything? Nothing. Baking treats specifically for him? Nothing. Asking him if he’d ever been in love before? Not a damn thing. You were running out of ways to get your point across.

Even if he didn’t notice the romantic intentions, he was always so receptive and enthusiastic, you couldn’t be upset for too long. Being a touch-oriented person by nature, he welcomed the extra hugs, squeezing you to your heart’s content. Your compliments always made him blush and he’d pay you back with as much flattery and twice the charm. After every treat you baked, he carved you thoughtful trinkets from wood and bone. And when you asked him about being in love, he lit up as he rambled on about a dog he met that confirmed for him the existence of true love. God, he was a goofball. You loved him so much.

At this point, you were vacillating between whether you should tell him at all, since everything you tried seemed to go over his head. You weren’t even sure he liked you back. Sometimes, you thought he might, but he was so nice to everyone, it was hard to tell. Maybe he really didn’t notice, or he did and he was trying not to hurt your feelings. Both were possibilities, but you sincerely hoped it was the former. But how could he not get it? Maybe you were better off as friends. It’d probably be easier.

You looked at the clock, realizing you would have to put your pity party on hold. Though the smallest part of you wanted to stay in bed and return to your dreamland where you knew Lester loved you back, you’d much rather spend all the time you could with him in the real world. You had plans to go to town with Lester to pick up more dog food. When he asked you if you wanted to tag along for his day off, you jumped at the chance to go with him. Anything for a few more hours together.

Once you got cleaned up and dressed, you jogged down the stairs and straight to the front door. You took a seat on the bottom step of the porch to wait for Lester to come pick you up. A shiver ran through your body, adjusting to the chilly breeze. You looked up at the sky to find it overcast, matching your mood. You wondered if it would rain.

You heard the door open and shut, followed by heavy steps down the stairs. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Waitin’ for Lester to pick you up for your date?” Bo prodded, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

“It’s not a date.” You sighed, too caught up in your thoughts to fight with Bo.

“But you want it to be, don’t you?” He snorted, “You’ve had it bad for him for how long now?”

“Can’t you just go on to work without harassing me? Be nice for once and go away.” you asked, finally looking up at him to meet his classic smirk.

“Look, kid, if you wanna get anywhere with Lester, you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.” Bo advised, “God love him, but there’s nothin’ in his head. Plus, he’s dumb as a sack of hammers when it comes to women and sex.”

“Stop it.” You snapped, “Lester’s not stupid. And I don’t remember asking for your advice.”

“Well, you need it.” Bo interjected, “But if you wanna keep pussyfooting around and die alone, that’s your God given right.”

“Truly inspiring.” You said sarcastically, “You should become a life coach.”

“Thought about it, pay was shit though.” Bo quipped without missing a beat. He gave you a soft kick on the leg as his best attempt at comfort, before finally granting your wish for him to leave. He hopped in his truck and took off down the hill.

You thought about what Bo told you. Maybe you should just come out with it already. You tried everything short of saying what you actually meant. You knew that being open and direct was the best way forward, but it would undoubtedly change things between you and Lester – for better or worse. You just dreaded the thought that after you finally told him everything, he simply wouldn’t feel the same. The idea of rejection, especially coming from him, was utterly terrifying. You didn’t think you could handle it if he were to start icing you out. You didn’t want to lose any part of him. Maybe you should have stayed in bed after all.

“Hello, Y/N? Anybody alive in there?”

You gasped as your heart jolted and you snapped to attention. You looked up to see Lester chuckling at your expense. Even as your heartrate slowed, you felt it stutter at his laughter.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Les!” you said with a playful shove, feigning annoyance –your smile betraying you.

“I didn’t mean to spook ya! But I’ve been callin’ your name for two minutes.” Lester told you, “Ya sure were thinkin’ hard ‘bout whatever it was. Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Sorry, I think I’m still waking up.” You excused, adding a fake yawn to really sell it. Lester smiles wide at you, suspecting nothing.

“Well, wake on up then, we got places to be!” Lester said as he offered his hand to pull you up from the stairs. You happily took it and he hoisted you up with ease. Your eyes darted where your hands met as his touch sent sparks through your arm and into your chest. Now, you were just plain staring. He innocently tilted his head, “Ya sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you said quickly, releasing his hand. “Come on, I’ll race you to the truck! Last one there has to do all the heavy lifting!”

Lester broke into a sprint without a warning. You wondered how he always seemed to have so much energy at all hours of the day as you struggled to catch up with him.

He made it to the truck first by a long shot. He just smiled when you finally made it, not bothering to gloat. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh as you fought to catch your breath.

“Guess, I win.” Lester said simply

“I’m getting too old for this.” you said as you leaned against the truck for support.

“Oh, you’re never too old for a little fun.” Lester replied clapping you on the back, “’Sides, you’re awake now, ain’t ya?”

“Won’t be for long, if I black out from exhaustion.” You fired back dramatically, “You’re going to have to go on without me.”

“Hey, c’mon now, ya gotta go with me to carry all that dog food. Ya ain’t gettin’ outta this one, drama queen.” Lester played along.

“Vision going dark…legs too weak! Goodbye, cruel world!” you cried out with an exaggerated hand over your face. You made a show of stumbling around like you were about to faint, imitating all the terrible soap operas you caught on television. You wrapped your arms around Lester and made your legs limp, forcing him to support you as he laughed at your antics, “Remember me as I was: unwilling to carry everything by myself.”

“Alright, fine!” Lester agreed as he adjusted you in his grasp so he could look back at you. Your act faltered as you looked up into his warm whiskey stare, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, sturdy and gentle. “I s’pose I’ll help ya out a little. Guess it’s only fair since ya let me win and all.”

“Why, yes, of course, that is exactly what happened. Me, the true winner. I let you win, correct. That was the master plan.” You said, every word dripping with sarcasm. You stood back up, separating yourself from his embrace despite wanting nothing more than to stay that way forever.

“Yes ma’am! Ya coulda left me in the dust, alright, but ya didn’t. Thanks for takin’ it easy on me.” Lester said with a wink and a nudge as he made his way to the driver side of the truck. There he goes again with that unrelenting kindheartedness, “Well, hop in then! We’re burnin’ daylight!”

You opened the passenger door and got in next to Lester. You couldn’t help but look at him from the corner of your eye as he got settled and started the engine. He started driving down the road. You wondered how it was possible no one else had fallen in love with him the way you had so easily. Maybe many already did and they also failed to tell him.

You turned to look at him straight on, while his eyes were on the road. You could feel a fond smile pulling at your cheeks as you gazed at him. He had such an ease about him, you thought he looked so handsome without even trying.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” Lester asked, cocking an eyebrow as he looked back at you, “What are ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Huh?” you said cluelessly. You had been caught staring again.

“Did I leave the house with a milk moustache or somethin’?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror to check himself, “Do I got a snot bubble?”

“No, you’re good.” You said, chuckling as you propped your head against your hand by the window. You kept looking at him, practically feeling the hearts flying out of your eyes.

“Whew, had me worried there for a second.”

“Sorry, about that.” You said with a smile, facing front once more.

“Don’t be, I get it, what with my devilish good looks and all.” Lester joked with a hearty laugh, sitting back without another thought. You looked back at him, holding back a sigh of disbelief. He didn’t know the half of it.

You leaned over to turn on the radio hoping some music would ease the tension you were feeling, even though you were sure Lester hadn’t noticed. He was delightfully oblivious to your plight. You heard the beginning of a steady, soft guitar. You immediately recognize the song, internally cursing the irony of it all.

I find it very, very easy to be true I find myself alone when each day is through Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you Because you're mine, I walk the line

Even Johnny Cash could see right through you. As much as you wanted to be irritated with fate, every line perfectly summed up your feelings for Lester. You glanced at him, thinking about how there was no one else in the world who was as right for you. He was just like the song itself; soft and stable.

“You know, I really love this song.” You said hopefully, “Romantic, don’t you think?”

“Sure is,” Lester agreed, with an excited smile and glance in your direction, “But hell if Folsom Prison Blues ain’t one of the best damn songs ever written. That’s my favorite!”

“Oh…that one’s definitely great too.” You said with a small drop of your shoulders. You should have known better than to think that would go anywhere. You straighten up again, giving it another shot, “I Walk the Line just makes me wish I could find the Johnny to my June.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that, none. Won’t be too long ‘fore that happens. I’m surprised none of them bigshot city boys ain’t snatched ya up yet. Guess most of ‘em are just plain stupid. Hell, they gotta be if they ain’t fallin’ over themselves to get a ring on ya.” Lester hyped you up, looking at you, genuine as ever.

“I don’t think I want anyone like that.” You said, “Guys like that really aren’t my type.”

“Well, whoever ya do end up with is gonna be one lucky son of a gun, I’ll tell ya that much.” Lester declared with the utmost certainty.

“I think I’d want him to be like you.” You told him pointedly, scooting closer. Lester gaped, a huge grin still shining through the skepticism.

“Me? Shoot, ya gotta be kiddin’. No way! Ya don’t wanna shack up with a fella like me!” Lester denied with a wave of his hand, clearly amused but not entertaining the notion. He was sure you must be joking.

"Why not?” You asked, “You’re funny, helpful, incredibly reliable, thoughtful, patient, kind. You’re the real deal! Plus, you know everything about everything there is to know about animals. I’m always learning something when I’m with you.”

“Shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” Lester chuckled, sending you a humble smile as he rubbed his neck, “I don’t know everythin’, but you’re real sweet for sayin’ so. ‘Sides, I don’t think there’re too many ladies that wanna hear me rattlin’ on ‘bout critters and whatnot.”

“Don’t be so sure.” You told him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Well, if ya happen to run into anybody ya think won’t mind if I set the mood with a little roadkill, ya send ‘em my way, alright!” Lester told you, slapping his knee. After he finished laughing at himself, he piped up, “You know who I’d marry if I could?”

“Who?” you asked, your heart stopping in its tracks.

“Dolly Parton! Whew that woman sure is somethin’!” Lester told you with a dreamy shake of his head.

You let out a soft sigh as you scooted back to your side; hiding your disappointment by looking out the window. Suddenly, Ring of Fire seemed more appropriate since loving Lester was starting to burn like hell. Even so, you were still charmed by his unrestrained joy as he started whistling along with the radio, totally oblivious to the way your fond smile overtook your features.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #Female reader #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #My writing #request #tw: cursing #fool for you

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count:1563

Warnings: Slow Start, Language.

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Side Note: Црни лабуд, according to google translate, means Black Lotus in Serbian.

So erm. Hi guys, first time sharing something on Tumblr, normally I’m the one reading all the fanfics but after reading so many talented people’s work I thought I’d try my hand at it :) hopefully it doesn’t completely suck, any writing tips and feedback is welcome and feel free to give some constructive criticism. I’m rambling, aren’t I? Okay I’ll shut up, Enjoy :)

It’s the same routine day after day, wake up, shower, get dressed and go out to recruit for Damien. The streets of Brooklyn aren’t exactly safe for a girl of 13, but hey this is what happens when a pair of inconsiderate asses sell their only child to one of the most infamous and dangerous gang of criminals for the cheap thrill of getting high. One way or another a girls gotta make a living and the way I do it could land me in jail for the rest of my life, I mean I didn’t exactly picture myself blackmailing and manipulating the poor souls targeted by Црни лабуд, but that’s the shit that happens when you find yourself being shunned by the society that’s supposed to help the weak.

Anyways I was getting close to my target, just two more blocks, through the back alley and up the stairs to the apartment owned by Greg Sampson. That clever son of a gun managed to bypass the security systems of the cities bank and make off with $5,000 and get away with it, and as expected the Црни лабуд want him to be our new “financial adviser” considering our last one double crossed the boss and died cause if it. Turning to corner to enter the alley was a moment, as cheesy as it sounds, I won’t ever forget, a big group of boys were surrounding a lanky and frail lad who by the looks of it had seen better days. His blonde hair was all over the shop and his face looked like it had been ploughed into the front of a bus, blood was coming out his nose and both his top and bottom lip were split open but despite all of that he was laughing and taunting the group.

“What’s the matter guys? Upset that you can’t keep me down?”, okay it’s official this kid has a death wish and I’m pretty sure that if I don’t do something I’m gonna be a witness to a murder, so of course my dumbass walks right into the middle of this “fight”. “So, what the hell is going off here? You boys decided to compensate for your small penises by acting like giant dicks or something?”, I could hear the lad behind me let out a laugh and a small smirk spread across my face as I looked at who I was up against, all the lads were red in the face and looked ready to put me into an early grave but I’d of liked to see them try.

Thanks to the boss I knew basic self-defence and apparently could pack one “hell of a punch” when pissed off, the tallest of the bunch stepped towards me and picked me up by my collar at an attempt to scare me “Who the hell do ya think ya are little girl?! Don’t ya know when to stay outta other people business? Now I gotta mess up that pretty lil face of yours”. It was safe to say whatever he said and did was about as intimidating as a wet kitten and honestly quite funny, hence why I laughed before I punched the prick in his face, not my smartest move cause then I was dropped straight on to my ass. One of the tall pricks mates decided to take advantage of my situation, yelling and cursing at me as he prepared to kick me right in the face ,which wouldn’t of been too pleasant let’s be honest, but right when his foot was about to make contact the blonde lad behind me pulled himself in front of me and took the blow for me, he went flying across the floor and hit the back wall.

Now I was pissed. As the group started to walk past me and advance on the blonde boy, I grabbed the ankle of the closest guy and pulled him down, climbing on top of him and really going in on his stupid face to try and get their attention back on me and off the guy struggling to stand. It’s safe to say it worked, a sudden force to my ribs knocked me off the boy and back onto the floor, and then the fun began…for them at least I wasn’t having as much fun as the collection of shitheads, pain erupted from all over body, one jackass was constant kicking me in the head as the others hit whatever part of me they could reach. It felt like it went on for forever, but, in reality it was only for 30 seconds, before the boys stopped, I could hear the sounds of punches and the whimpers of pain as multiple sets of steps started to run away from me.

I tried to sit up, but those bastards really did a number on my ribs and midsection, the pain making me cry out before crumpling to the floor, faint mummers and a moan of pain could be heard but I didn’t really care about that. Summoning my last bit of strength I pulled myself up, ignoring my bodies screams of protest, the wall becoming my new best friend as I started to limp towards my objective, I managed to get about 10 centimetres away from the alley before a arm wrapped around my waist and held me up.

“Just so you know that was fucking stupid move on your part, next time let me save the punk” ,okay hold the frigging phone who the hell is this and why haven’t I pushed his stupid ass to the floor? quickly I shoved him and “walked” away from him, royally pissed off. “By the time you’d of got here to save him he’d of been 6 feet under by now, so go screw yourself” Perhaps I could have been nicer, but he did start it.

Miraculously I made it to the stairs and began to make my way up them, when once again a hand stopped me and I gotta be honest it’s really starting to piss me off, turning around to give this little bugger a piece of my mind, the words died in my throat as I came face to face with the blonde boy. Bruises littered his face and somehow his face was even bloodier then before, the mark from the kick was printed on his face and guilt immediately flooded my veins, “Ignore my friend, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut sometimes, anyway I wanted to thank you for stepping in there not a lotta people would be so quick to rush in and have my back. My names Steve, Steve Rodgers and the grumpy old man over there is James Barnes” Steve stuck his hand out as a greeting and offered me what I can assume he meant as a friendly smile, though the split lips did ruin the image. Slowly a smile spread across my face and I shook his hand in greeting, “It was no problem, honestly, besides you had em on the ropes, my names y/n and it’s nice to meet you, though I can’t say the same about your friend over there.”. The boy behind Steve or Bucky scoffed at me and walked off in a huff, not that I cared, simply raising my eyebrows at Steve, mocking his friends attitude he let out a sigh and gave me an apologetic smile in response, “Well I better go after him or he’ll kick up a storm, I’ll see ya around y/n” and with that he smiled a final time and ran off after his friend.

Returning to the task at hand, I let out a small smile at the thought of Steve before frowning, he was a good kid and didn’t need the trouble I brought, it’ll be best if I never see him again. I sighed before climbing up the rest of the stairs and prepared for the next few hours of hell I have to bring to this man, with those final thoughts I brought out my “tools” and got to work.

Okay honestly, I didn’t mean to make the first chapter so long, I wanted to provide the best in sight as to how this series will go, also the character development will be miles better in up-coming chapters. Thanks for reading :)

Rose xx

#bucky barnes x reader #captain america x reader #marvel #fanfic #reader #bucky #bucky barnes #steve #mcu #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

Conversation

RP meme from Tremors

Let's get you out of the sun for a spell.

Please move your fat ass.

Well, when I'm your age I'll probably forget what I eat, too.

How many cows does it take to make a stampede? Is it like three or more? Is there a minimum speed?

You will have long blonde hair, big green eyes, nice full breasts that stand up and say hello, ass that won't quit. And legs, legs that go all the way up!

Yeah, well, I'm getting what I refer to scientifically as "weird vibes."

They're all the same; dead weight. Can't make a decision, can't walk because of their shoes, can't work because of their fingernails. Make my skin crawl!

Well, I'm a victim of circumstance.

Twenty years of looking for a woman exactly like Miss October 1968, and where'd it get me?

Down, honey, down.

The way you worry, you're gonna have a heart attack before you get to survive World War III.

Right. We plan ahead. That way we don't do anything right now.

The idea was; we were ripping you off.

Now, you know I'm good for it.

Are we too easy-going?

If we're gonna take the plunge we oughta have a better plan than that.

Stop it! Stop it, you horrid animal!

God almighty, my mama sure didn't raise me for this.

You're the one's gotta have a plan.

What keeps us doing jobs like this is you dragging your feet.

You gonna stand there in broad daylight and tell me you think I'm the reason we're still here?

I'll call that little bluff.

Forget it, man. It's not worth it.

We did it! We faced temptation and we did not bend!

Last chance, asshole.

Jeez, look at that guy.

You're full of shit.

He must've really been drunk this time.

You damn fool, you owe me on this one

Well, whatever the hell happened it's just one more goddamn good reason to haul ass out of this place.

Hey, where the hell's that asshole dog?

We got a killer on the loose!

He's cutting people's heads off!

I'd high-tail for town if I was you!

The phone is out!

We've gotta get the police up here.

Well, there's sure as hell nothing to stop us now.

Is some higher force at work here?

Are we asking too much of life?

You on a booze break or what?!

Where are the bullets? Don't we have any goddamn bullets?

Hey, I don't want spend the night out here!

What the hell you doing back already?

Unreal! Where'd you get it?

It's disgusting.

So, it's some kind of snake?

It's dead all right. Tore the damn thing in half.

There's gotta be more out there, a lot more.

Slick as snot and I'm not lying.

Look, we organize, we arm ourselves.

We go out, we find those damn snake things, we make 'em extinct.

Might be aliens. Who knows?

Why go looking for trouble?

Phone's out. Road's out. We're on our own.

I'm dead. Let's finish in the morning.

Just keep looking at that beautiful sky.

Damn that thing!

Well, what's wrong with it?

You sure this is where it was?

God, what a stink!

Something's got me!

Oh, God! Get me Out!! GET ME OUT!!

Somebody stop it!

You want the rifle or the Smith?

IT'S GOT ME! IT's GOT ME! AAAAHGH!

You stupid punk!

One of these days, [NAME], somebody's gonna kick your ass.

Come back with the Sheriff.

Come back with the National Guard.

That means we're gonna be out here, like, in the dark.

Oh, man, I hate this shit.

Ride like hell.

How could they bury an entire Plymouth station wagon?

They're under the goddamn ground!

There must be a million of them!

It's gaining on us!

We can do it, we can do it!

We killed the bastard!

Did you just notice something weird?

Think it smells like that 'cause it's dead?

I think they shoot right outta its mouth, hook you, and pull you right in.

Good thing we stopped it before it killed anybody else.

I'm lucky it didn't find me.

This is like, well, let's say it, it's probably the biggest zoological discovery of the century.

Just look at what we caught here!

This is one big mother!

Come on, nobody's ever seen one of these!

There are five more of these things!

Five more?

If you compare the different readings, there have to be five.

There's nothing like them in the fossil record, I'm sure.

I'd vote for outer space. No way those are local boys.

The government built them, a big surprise in the next war.

How the hell's it even know we're still here?

It can sense the slightest seismic vibration, hear every move we make.

I always wanted to be stuck on a desert island. But somehow I always imagined, you know, water.

You know, I hate to be crude, but I'm gonna have to take care of some business here.

I'll tell you, if you ever wanted proof God is a man, this is it.

Running's not a plan. Running is what you do when the plan fails.

You're not even trying to come up with a plan!

Think it's still following us?

You go north, I'll go south.

Well, I'm scared, but I'm not sorry.

All right, I'm about as subtle as a donkey's ass.

You think we're not even safe here in town?

I think we should all get the hell out while the getting's good.

You should have a theory at least.

This valley's just one long smorgasbord and if we don't haul ass outta here we're the next course.

You little ass wipe!

You knock that off or you're gonna be shitting that basketball!

Where are we going to go that's safer than right here?

I'm gonna kick his ass!

Man, you got a gun?!

Big as a house!

Remember, no noise. No vibration.

Get off your pogo stick!

Go back, for chrissake!

Come on! Outta your pants!

Just run! Run like screaming fuck!

This oughta hurt like hell.

So, is that one of your usual jobs, saving peoples' lives?

How long till they go away?

Shut it up! Shut the little bastard up!

Quiet! Quiet you hateful thing!

Chuck him out the door!

Son of a bitchin' lowlife, putrid, scum.

I got enough food here to last us for weeks.

Jesus! Shut it off!

Can't you shout a little quieter?

How the hell long it take you to change a tire?

They're coming after you! They're coming right now!

Big monsters under the ground, [NAME]!

Broke into the wrong goddamn rec room, didn't you, you BASTARD!

We killed that motherfucker!

Uh, be advised, however, there are four more, repeat, four more motherfuckers.

They got one! They killed one of the sons of bitches!

You're not getting any penetration, even with the elephant gun.

Never figured on having to shoot through dirt! Best goddamn bullet stop there is.

They can feel our vibrations, but they can't find us.

The bastards are up to something.

Oh, wow, man! No way! No fucking way, man!

They're gonna tear this whole town out from under us!

We'll come get everybody. Just hang on tight.

Since when the hell's every goddamn thing up to us?!

We don't have a hell of a lot of time here.

We need a helicopter is what we need, or a goddamn tank.

Jesus. It's slower than hell.

Couldn't we distract them somehow?

We need a decoy.

Hey, [NAME], you wanna make a buck?

We're gonna save our asses here!

Get real. I'm faster than you.

Damn. Guess I have to do it.

Watch your ass, shithead.

Don't worry about me, jerkoff.

You goddamn suicidal son of a bitch!

He'll never make it! They're gonna get him!

HEY, YOU SORRY SONS OF BITCHES, COME AND GET ME!

Goddamn good thinking!

Me next!

Get me off of here!

We got about three seconds!

God damn! Armored transport!

What do you think? Max firepower or...?

I'd go for penetration.

Give me a gun! I'll take one!

I wouldn't give you a gun if it was World War Three.

Underground goddamn monsters?!

Any sign of'em?

Maybe they're taking a dump.

What the hell are they doing? They're up to something.

I don't care what they're doing as long as they're doing it way over there.

They dug a trap! I can't believe this!

Hungry?! Eat this!!

Here they come! They're coming back!

They'll sure as hell get us if we stay here!

[NAME] do you have any more of those things?

Then, when the explosion happens, if it drives them away again, we all run like goddamn bastards!

What if it doesn't scare them? What if they don't run?

They're so sensitive to sound, they have to run! It hurts too much!

We're gonna run. Get ready.

They're too fast! You can't outrun them, no way!

It worked! There they go!

You asshole! There's no bullets in this gun!

Could we make it to the mountains?

What's the matter with you? What are you talking about?!

Those animals would have killed you!

You haven't seen what they can do.

They're not falling for it!

I'll make'em pay attention, goddamnit

We can't kill them all.

Use the fucking bomb!

This better be one great plan!

We could make some real money off this whole thing, get in People magazine.

Sell the movie rights.

You're really leaving, huh?

There's going to be major research up here.

And thanks for everything, you know, saving my life and stuff.

Civil? I'm civil.

You're not civil, you're glum.

We got the world by the tail with a downhill pull and all of a sudden you go glum on me.

Somebody paying you to do this?

She just practically asked you for a date.

God, my work is never done.

Fine, make the mistakes I did.

I think I'll just be playing this hand myself.

I'd goddamn worship her.

Can you fly, sucker?! CAN YOU FLY?!

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #tremors

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Warriors in Red Armor

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Chapter Four

Nora I

Nora was in one of the nicer cells. She didn't like to brag, but she had been arrested often enough to know the difference. And she had the cell to herself, which was new and different. Normally, the Corrie Guard shoved as many beings into each cell as they could manage without crushing anyone.

Soon enough, some of the more violent members of Clone Rights filled the surrounding cells. Even then, Nora's cell remained single-occupancy.

"You gonna get us outta this one, Czajak?" a male Bothan named Esk Meh'reer asked through the transparisteel barrier.

"Of course, Meh'reer," Nora said with a scoff. "We didn't even do anything. This one'll be easier than any of the other times."

"Well, you didn't do anything," Meh'reer told her with a grin. "We may have defaced some property after we saw you get arrested. Nothing too bad, though. Just tore down some signs. Oh, actually, I'm pretty sure Gadi threw a bench."

Nora rolled her eyes at the mention of the exuberant Lasat. "Gadi always throws something. I think she cares more about throwing stuff around than she does about getting rights for clones, but at least she's on our side."

"Hey, our cells share a wall!" Gadi cheered, pushing herself out of the crowd as if she had been summoned. "Want me to see if I can throw this bed?"

"Probably not, Gadi," Nora discouraged. "It'll be a lot harder to fight the charges if we start breaking things inside of the precinct."

"Aw, you'll be able to get us out of it," Gadi told her. "You're the best lawyer on Coruscant!"

Nora chuckled and shook her head, choosing not to tell her fellow protesters that she may not be a lawyer much longer if she kept doing this. Her boss had already threatened to demote her after he had found out about her work. Was it a bad thing that she had a tendency to defend protesters pro bono?

"Nora Czajak," a clone trooper announced, opening the door to Nora's cell. "You're being charged, come with me."

Surprise made Nora slow. The charges were almost never filed this quickly. She had been arrested less than twelve hours ago! Still, the sooner she knew how bad things were going to be, the sooner she could start forming a defense for herself and the others. Gamely, she rose and followed the trooper, admiring his red-accented armor as she went.

When she stepped from the room, cheers erupted from the surrounding cells.

"Go, Nora!"

"Give 'em hell!"

"Pinch that guy's ass while you're in there!"

"Gadi…" Nora sighed to fight back a chuckle. The temptation to laugh grew worse when she turned and found that the trooper had stopped and was staring at her. She couldn't see through his helmet, obviously, but she would have bet that he looked less than thrilled. With her most professional lawyer smile, she said, "Following you, sir."

He shook his head a little bit and kept walking. They passed another red-accented trooper as they walked, and he leaned in a bit to place his helmet's speakers next to Nora's ear. "If you pinch Thorn's shebs, I'll transfer you twenty credits."

"Will that be worth the jail time for harassment, though?" she asked with a conspiratorial grin.

He shrugged. "It would be for me."

"Thire, leave her alone," her escort - presumably Thorn - ordered. "I have to take her to see Stone."

Stone was one of Nora's favorite troopers, and she didn't even need Thorn's guidance to find her way to his office. Thorn gave a polite knock on the door. "Nora Czajak for you, Commander."

"Stone! How are you? Did you redecorate the office?" Nora asked, breezing into the office like it was her own.

Stone blinked at her. "Of course I didn't redecorate. When would I have redecorated? You were here last week."

"That is a difficult point to argue," she conceded.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way," Stone said dryly. "Thank you, Commander Thorn."

As soon as Thorn had left, Nora crossed her legs comfortably and leaned forward to stare at Stone. "So, what's it going to be this time, Commander? A fine, some jail time..?"

"Neither," Stone told her shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. It would have looked more natural if he weren't in full armor - minus the helmet - but Nora had to admit that there was something intimidating about the dull crack of plastoid meeting plastoid. "Command has decided that fines don't seem to work for you. And every time you spend more than a few days in jail, you come out with more violent followers for your Clone Rights group. Then those followers trash the city even worse in your next demonstration. It's a vicious cycle."

"Mm, such a conundrum," Nora agreed. "What's the solution, Stone?"

"Community service."

Now, it was Nora's turn to blink in confusion. "Community service? My sentence is community service?"

"Yeah, a hundred hours of it," he said, shaking his head a bit.

"And- what about the others? What are they getting sentenced to?"

"Community service," Stone repeated, sounding almost as confused as she was. "All of the demonstrators we arrested are serving time. Not as much as you, but it'll all be community service."

Nora opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Stone, this is stupid. What is going on? Community service is for parking violations and cursing at shop-keepers. You have us dead to rights on destruction of property, disturbing the peace, and intention to incite a riot. What are you doing?"

"Are you asking for a harsher punishment?" Stone asked with a twinkle in his brown eyes.

"Of course not!" she snapped. "It's just suspicious. Since when does the Coruscant Guard let violations like this slide?"

"Since today," he said with a shrug. "Orders straight from Head Commander Fox himself."

"Head Commander Fox?" Nora asked, distracted by the mention of the clone trooper she had met the previous night. He had been willing to debate her in a cruiser on the way back to the precinct. His method of forming an argument had been clumsy, but his points had been valid. It was a welcome distraction from the unpleasantness of the march's end. And here she was, finding out that Fox was actually the commander in charge of the other commanders. "What was a Head Commander of the GAR doing babysitting a Clone Rights march?"

"Maybe he wanted to come see your model behavior first-hand," Stone told her sarcastically. At Nora's sharp look, he relented. "Fine. Commander Fox doesn't pass duties along. He does everything he asks his men to do. That includes supervising marches, pulling patrols, and booking troublemakers."

Ignoring the pointed implication that she was a troublemaker, Nora changed the subject. "Who is going to be supervising my community service hours?"

"That'll be…" Stone consulted a page in front of him before answering - though how he found a single piece of flimsi in the disaster zone that was his desk was beyond Nora. "Trooper Beam. He's in charge of community service efforts. Poor evaar is gonna have his work cut out for him, supervising your protesters."

"That has to be about seventy people," she argued. "One trooper can't supervise all of us."

"That's his job," Stone said with a shrug.

Nora leaned back, lost in thought. "You know, it would be terrible of me to expect one trooper to supervise all of the arrested Clone Rights members and all one-hundred hours of my own community service. I should really request to be assigned to another Coruscant Guard trooper."

"Who were you thinking?" Stone's voice was filled with wariness.

Nora peered thoughtfully around the room. The morning sunlight didn't even reach this part of Coruscant. Instead, the light from a nearby holo-ad provided the only outside light in the commander's office.

When she felt Stone staring at her impatiently, Nora smirked and answered, "Why, Head Commander Fox, of course."

---

Fox II

It had been a long night, and it promised to be an even longer day. Fox was already on his second set of stims, and he still had an estimated twenty hours before he could think about collapsing in his quarters.

At that particular moment, he was talking to Sergeant Hound about some woman the sergeant was processing. He was trying, anyway. Fox's attention was far away. Part of him was trying to calculate how long it had been since he had last slept while the rest of him was trying to calculate how long he had until he could sleep again.

"So, what do you think, Commander?" Hound asked, bringing Fox's attention back to him.

"You know I trust you, Hound," Fox told the trooper, patting him on the shoulder. "Do what you think is best."

"Really? Thank you, sir!" Hound said, face brightening.

Briefly wondering what he had just agreed to, Fox turned away and was immediately met with Commander Stone beckoning him over.

"Sir, I need you to come speak with the woman I'm sentencing."

"You know you're the one in charge of sentencing, Commander Stone," Fox reminded.

"I know, sir, but she's requesting that you oversee her community service personally," Stone told him.

Fox's brows lifted before he could stop the expression. "And that is Trooper Beam's area." Honestly, what was the point of dividing the Coruscant Guard into departments if everyone was going to ask him to do their job anyway?

"Yes, sir, but…" Stone sighed, looking more defeated than Fox had ever seen him. "Can you please come tell her that? She won't take my refusal as a proper answer."

Fox shook his head, but started for Stone's office. "Who is this woman?"

"Nora Czajak."

"Kriff, no," Fox refused before he could think better of it.

"You're lucky I'm not easily offended, Head Commander," Czajak said, appearing in the doorway of Stone's office.

"I won't oversee your community service," Fox snapped.

"Maybe you should step inside, Commander," Stone wearily advised. "She has a full argument ready."

Well, he could at least hear her out. Fox entered Stone's office, immediately feeling as though a trap had been sprung when the other commander shut the door - with himself on the outside. Fox cracked the door open enough to peer out. "Stone, aren't you coming?"

"Kriff, no, Commander," Stone denied. "I'm going to get some caf and maybe some alcohol. Good luck."

When Fox turned back around, he found that Nora had seated herself in Stone's chair behind the Commander's desk. Everything was a power game for her. Since he refused to give her the satisfaction of asking her to leave the seat, Fox walked to the transparisteel window beside her. He peered outside, as if an advertisement for nerf steaks was the most interesting thing he had seen all day.

"I still won't oversee your community service," Fox's tone was blunt.

"You look like hell," Czajak's tone was also blunt, and he almost turned to look at her, but caught himself in time. "Don't you sleep?"

Even the mention of sleep was enough to make his eyes burn. "I'm a busy man, Czajak. Too busy for sleep and too busy to supervise community service hours."

"Maybe you should sit down before you fall down, Commander."

He scoffed, still staring out of the window. "I don't need your pity."

A moment later, a hard bump against the back of his knees had Fox falling backward into a chair he vaguely recognized as the one that sat behind Stone's desk. Czajak stepped around him, shaking her head, and sat down in a guest chair. Fox frowned. She had given up a position of power, the implied high ground in this office.

"I think you should be the one to oversee my community service," she started.

"I disagree," Fox countered.

"You are the one who decided that community service was the right answer for members of Clone Rights who were arrested, yes?" He nodded, already searching for the trap in her question. "How is it fair for you to put that much work on your trooper in charge of overseeing it? He didn't ask for so much responsibility."

Why was this woman always fighting to infantilize him and his brothers? "I assure you, Beam is fully capable of withstanding the stress."

"Well, I would hate to put him in such a bad position," Czajak mused. "I probably would feel so guilty that I would skip all my community service appointments."

"Then you'll be arrested for failure to appear."

"And I'll be sentenced to jail time, in which I will gain more followers," she said with a satisfied smile. "That's the fear, correct?"

Kriffing Stone and his running mouth. Fox gritted his teeth. "If you fail to appear for appointments, I will take the appropriate measures to ensure that you pay your debt to society."

"I'm sure you would," Czajak agreed easily. Too easily. "However, would it not be more simple to agree to oversee my community service yourself? We could avoid all of the unpleasantness for the low price of one-hundred hours of your time."

"You couldn't afford that low price," Fox snorted.

Czajak's eyes glinted in amusement. "How about this, then? Your men rave about your leadership and how you never ask them to do anything you wouldn't be willing to do yourself. I know most of your men consider me to be the worst of the worst. I received the highest number of required community service hours. By taking on the responsibility of… well, of me, you would be proving that your willingness to do all aspects of the job is true in every situation."

Fox's head ached as he tried to find a way of refuting her point. It was a solid argument and she knew it from the way she was smiling at him. He suddenly understood why Commander Stone had refused to come to this part of the meeting.

"Fine," he ground out, voice low and harsh. "I'll oversee your community service. I don't know why you're being so insistent about it, but it won't be fun. You'll show up when and where I tell you, and stay as long as I deem fit. And if I hear a single complaint from you, I'll toss you in a cell, new followers be karked. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Commander," Czajak agreed. She was all demure compliance now that she had gotten her way. "Please notify me with the details of our first meeting."

"Consider yourself dismissed," Fox growled at her.

Czajak winked and rose to leave. As she opened the door, Fox heard Chase say, "Ouch! That one pinched me!"

"We talked about this, Gadi!" Nora lectured, leaving Stone's door to close behind her.

Fox rubbed at the lines between his brows. For his own sake, he took a moment to breathe before he had to go deal with whatever that was about.

---

Ransom I

"Okay, the Commander said I was cleared to deal with you as I see fit."

The sentence may have been worded as a threat, but Ransom could sense no malice in the trooper's tone. It didn't matter either way. She had been arrested too many times to count. There was nothing this pleasant-faced officer could do that would frighten her. Well, short of throwing her to his massiff. Even then, she was certain that she would do a great deal of damage before it could take her down.

"Whoa, what's with that face?" he asked, and Ransom immediately smoothed her expression.

"Just waiting for this to be over."

"I also treasure our time together," he smiled, reaching out a hand as if to pat her on the arm. Ransom was a comical distance away, seated on the other side of a wide desk, and she raised one eyebrow in his direction.

"Good news is that I think I've finally located your file," he said, not deterred by her lack of response. He hadn't been all day, actually. Ransom wasn't willing to work with him at all. She believed that he shouldn't need to read through a history of her life to know that the alterations to her cybernetics were illegal and needed to be removed or licensed. Instead, the trooper - who had cheerfully introduced himself several times as Sergeant Hound - had used a biometric scan to track her file.

"Ransom," Hound read from the display. He stared at her for a long moment, dark brows furrowed. "Your name is Ransom?"

"Your name is Hound," she fired back immediately. "Are you sure you want to start this fight?"

"Yeah, but most civvies have a last name."

"Why would I need a last name?" Ransom asked with a frown. "To keep from being confused with all of the other cybernetically-altered Coruscanti women named Ransom?"

"...That's true," Hound conceded. He turned his attention back to the screen and Ransom tensed a bit at what he would find. She braced herself for any number of unpleasant responses. In the past, she had seen everything from pity to awe to disgust, but he simply scanned through the documents - she had a lot of them - and nodded. "Well, you're being charged with disturbing the peace, but that isn't worth jail time or any significant fine. The Head Commander has been on a real community service kick lately, so we'll get you signed up for some of that."

"I'd rather take the jail time," Ransom spat out.

"No you wouldn't," Hound said seriously. "The jail is rough. Full of unsavory characters, terrible food, bad lighting. Plus, your job wouldn't take too kindly to you spending time in jail. None of them ever do. Don't you want to keep working at…" he checked the screen again, "...Red Squad?"

"Red Squad wouldn't fire me for being in jail," Ransom assured him.

"You can't know that for sure," Hound argued. "Trust me, community service is the better way to go."

"I do know for sure, actually," Ransom argued, unsure of why she was pressing the issue.

"Why, you sleeping with the boss or something?" he asked, tossing the datapad to land on the desk's surface.

Ransom smirked a bit at that. "Only in the occasional dry season. I am the boss. Owner, actually. I run Red Squad."

Hound laughed at that, and it was such a rich, cheerful sound that Ransom almost didn't mind that he was laughing at her. Almost.

"Your name is Ransom, no last name, and you own and run a business called 'Red Squad'. Are you secretly a clone trooper?"

"If I ran a squad, wouldn't that mean I outranked you?" Ransom fired back.

"Probably," he said, seeming unconcerned. "It would make you a captain, at least."

"Well, I already have a better-regulation haircut than you," she tried again. She had yet to see a member of the GAR rise to the bait about ranks - particularly the implication that a civilian outranked them - but clone troopers were notoriously fastidious about their appearance.

Hound raked a hand through his too-long hair and grinned at her. "Yeah, it's been a while since I visited the barber. Is my hair distracting you?"

"Hardly," Ransom snorted, pressing away the spark that had lit her belly at his waggling eyebrows.

"Good, then let's talk about your community service," he said. "Normally, you would be in the care of Trooper Beam, but he's recently experienced a flood of requests. I have it on good authority that he has some three thousand hours of community service to oversee after today, so I'll take care of supervising your hours. I'm thinking forty should be more than enough for something as minor as disturbing the peace. Give me your comlink information and I'll contact you for scheduling."

Ransom felt her eyes fly wide before she could bite back the response. "No."

"No?" Hound asked with a pouty sort of frown.

"You're an ARF trooper," she tried again.

Hound beamed warmly at her. "Great job! The average civilian doesn't even know what an ARF trooper is, let alone how to recognize one."

"I'm not an average civilian," Ransom told him, the response flat. "But my point is that you're an ARF. I don't want to do any community service that has to do with massiffs."

His dark eyes softened and warmed with understanding, and Ransom hated it. She didn't want - didn't need - anyone's pity. In her irritation, she lashed out. "So throw me in jail if you want to, bucket head, but I refuse to work with those beasts."

"Hey, I get it," he sympathized, face still kind. Ransom wanted to put her fist through it.

"No, you really don't," she snarled. "I'll-"

"Everything okay in here?" another trooper asked, ducking into the small office.

"Yeah, just chatting," Hound said easily, as if Ransom hadn't been in the middle of threatening him. "What are you up to, Stone?"

"Head Commander's in my office with the Czajak woman," he explained. "I needed to lie low."

"Makes sense to me," Hound gave a sympathetic grimace. "Ransom and I are going over community service options. You're usually in charge of bookings. Care to explain the process?"

"Oh, uh…" Stone hesitated. Ransom would bet that he hadn't expected Hound to actually need help. "We try to match civilians with their skills and interests."

"So you wouldn't force someone to work with an animal they have a strong dislike towards?" Ransom asked sharply, full of skepticism.

"Absolutely not," Stone answered with finality. "And if you mean the massiffs, a lot of civvies are uncomfortable around them. They're not even an option for community service, so there's no worry about that."

"Thank you, Stone!" Hound said, voice cheerful. Looking more than a bit confused, Stone gave a short nod and left. "Feel better?"

"If you knew working with massiffs wasn't an option, why didn't you tell me that?" Ransom crossed her arms over her chest.

"It seemed like you weren't really interested in listening to me," he said with a shrug.

"So you won't need my comlink information after all," she summarized.

"Now, no one said that," Hound hedged. "I can still supervise your community service."

"How?"

"Hey, I do other work around here!" he said, clearly defensive. "I can trade shifts around, pick up some duties cleaning streets or… working with- um, old people..?"

"I think I'll pass," Ransom told him with a snort.

"Suit yourself," Hound shrugged. "In that case, I'll still be the one supervising the licensing process for those cybernetic alterations."

Ransom was ready to argue, but something about the look in his eyes warned that he wouldn't give in so easily. Telling herself she would get a new frequency as soon as she was done registering the alterations, Ransom gave Hound the information he needed. She couldn't leave the precinct soon enough.

---

A/N - There! A full chapter without one Hound POV! Are you proud of me? I'm proud of me. And with this chapter, we've set up all of our couples! Though I might end up having to make a one-shot or side fic with Stone since I love him. This is also one of the longer chapters of this story, so congrats for getting through it!

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thorn #commander thire #sergeant hound #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Note

so since i was given the permission to send you some ✨thots✨ for dazed and confused characters...i’m taking full advantage of that😏

however, this one i feel is not as spicy as some of the ones i send you, but jesus if i don’t want to make out with slater while at the moontower. maybe some high groping🤷‍♀️ you never know. THANK YOU FOR DOING THIS I LOVE YOU FOREVER - ❤️

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I could literally hug you so hard right now! I mean this! I absolutely love love love this movie and duh, slater is bae. <3 I have... definitely been feeling some kind of way about this ask you’ve sent, so.. Let’s get into this, shall we?

Warnings: Probably gonna get a lil handsy.. A lot of sloppy kissing, maybe a little grinding, mentions of weed/smoking joints and drinking.... Beyond all that, who knowssss. That being said, it’s still not advised for minors to read this, so if you chose to keep reading, you really can’t say I didn’t warn youuu.

Tagging: uhh.. I’m just going to throw random tags out here to @twistnet and @chasingeverybreakingwave because I have a feeling you two would like to see this? if not, feel free to ignore.

[ faq page | tag list doc ] ⇺ My tag list has moved / changed links. If you’d like to be on the new one, please go to the doc or let me know, I’ll more than happily add you!!

RON SLATER & moontower makeout;

Your brother absolutely hated Ron. And he was very,very,very overprotective when it came to you. Typical for Fred O’Bannion though, if one were to ask around your high school.

The last day of school came and literally all everyone was talking about was the party that night. You started off the morning just peachy -sarcasm intended here, when you somehow managed to collide with Ron in the hallway. Normally, he wouldn’t give you a second look. Mostly because of Fred, you suspected, but I digress. This time, he steadies you. And rather than step away from each other, you two wind up drifting closer together in the crowded hallway. He’s gazing down at you, calm and almost thoughtfully.

“Hey, you comin to the party later, sweetheart?” that lazy deep drawl was enough to have you squirming ever so slightly. Swallowing hard as you raised a hand to drag through your hair, holding his gaze. Pretending to think it over.

“Gee, I don’t know...”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. You gotta! It’s gonna be bitchin.” Slater informed. The pleading look in his eyes didn’t go missed by you and it had you more than a little curious if you were to admit it. After a second or two, you smiled slowly. Nodding. “One condition.”

Sheesh, you were bold, asking a guy the grade above you for a condition to you attending this party, but... You were feeling some kind of way, so you went with the moment. Carpe diem and all that jazz. Anyway.

He chuckles. God the sound is both melodic and erotic. You bite your lip, still holding his gaze. He’s rubbing his chin thoughtfully, mulling it over for himself. Finally, that lazy grin. His hand raises, restling palm down against the locker, right above your head and he’s kinda leaning down and into you. “What’s the condition?”

“I kind of need to figure out a way to get there.” you admitted sheepishly. “My brother’s an ass, he’d never just willingly take me. He’d actually tell our parents if he even thought I was going to go...” you shuffled your feet, swallowing hard. Waiting on Ron to shoot you down, because that had to be what was coming, right?

Well, turns out, you were wrong.

He chuckles again. Nodding. An almost sage and wise beyond his years thoughtful look in his eyes. Almost like he was thinking. Then he steps even closer. “I’ll come back to meet ya. How’s that?”

You nodded and smiled. Told him which area of the building you’d be walking out of and you went ahead then and mentally prepared yourself to be stood up. Either he’d forget or he just wouldn’t show.

You were just about to walk away, but Ron caught up to you, tapping your shoulder. You turned around, smiling shyly up at him. "Yeah?" your stomach started to sink. Was he already changing his mind?

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart?” Slater asked, dragging thick digits through a long mane you'd secretly spent the entire year wanting to run your fingers through... Besides the point, but still.

Before you could actually tell him your name, your idiot older brother Fred did it for you, practically snapping at you angrily because you were talking to Ron Slater. After he'd told you more than a thousand times not to. Not wanting the bullshit involved with reminding your bull-headed older brother once again that you weren't a baby, you took a deep breath, massaging your temples. Rolling your eyes at your brother's general direction. "And there's my brother now. I'll see you later?" you asked Ron hopefully.

Ron gave a bright grin, giving you a thumbs up. And you hurried down the hall to your own homeroom but not before you heard your brother start running his mouth at Ron...

You grumbled to yourself as you stepped into class and took your seat. Resigning yourself to the fact that Ron wouldn't show this afternoon. If you wanted to go to the party, you'd have to just figure out another way.

TIME SKIP

The last bell sounded. Everyone piled out of their classrooms and into the hallway in a chaotic frenzy. Throwing notebooks, shoving and pushing for the nearest exit. You darted out of your classroom, ditching your notebooks for the year in a nearly full bin as you went. Arms shot out and wrapped around your hips and you were pulled into a quieter hallway. Body to body with Slater. He already smelled a little like his smoke of choice and his eyes were a little red. But he was here, waiting. Just like he said he'd be.

Pink wandered past, gazing at you two. Chuckling as he called out to Slater casually, "Better watch your ass, man. O'Bannion is on the warpath now, seein as how you punched his lights out earlier."

You gazed up at Ron, trying not to laugh.

"You punched my idiot brother? Why?"

Ron shrugged. Grumbled something about him being tired of Fred fucking O'Bannion telling him who he could and couldn't talk to. Then his eyes settled on you and that lazy grin started to fill his face all over again. "He's been ridin my ass all year, sweetheart. Because he knows I like you and it pisses him off."

You gulped. Brain desperately trying to process what Ron Slater just told you. Giggling like an idiot and unable to resist the urge to cozy up to him just a bit as you rose to tiptoe, your lips against his ear. "I like you too, Ron. A lot, actually."

"Sweet." he chuckled. Wrapping an arm around you while you were pressed against him. Muttering quietly, "You ready to get outta here? I've seen enough of this fuckin place."

"Yeah, gladly."

TIME SKIP AGAIN

You'd been riding around with Slater and his friends all afternoon. After the party got cancelled at one area, someone suggested just throwing it out at the Moontower.

At one point, you got split up from Ron and his friends, but you met up with a girl down the street from you, Clarissa. And you rode around with her and the girls she was riding around with. They all stopped at the rec center and that's where you met up with a slightly tipsy and very handsy Ron Slater for the third time that day. He saw you coming in and you heard him say loudly -and drunkenly, "Be right back. My girl just walked in."

Pink snickered and taunted Ron, "You better watch out man. O'Bannion even thinks you two are a thing, he's gonna go nuclear."

"F-Fuck him, man." Slater drawled, walking over to greet you. Lifting you off the ground in a hug, squeezing you against him like he hadn't seen you in ten years instead of the hour it'd been since you'd last seen each other.

Across the rec center, Wooderson and Pink were teasing out loud and cat calling. Clapping.

Ron broke the hug, standing you back on your feet all the way. Staring down at you as his hands skimmed your sides, settling on your hips. "Y-you're stayin with me, princess. Okay?"

You blushed and bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. If you thought you'd gotten wet earlier in the afternoon when you two were sharing a joint and he pulled you right into his lap, inhaling and letting you breath it in and then inhaling from you when you exhaled, your mouths nearly brushing and getting closer with each second... You were wrong.

Because now you were pretty much flooded. And full of thoughts. He'd been a gentleman. Hadn't tried to really pull any fast moves on you at all. Affectionate and handsy then, yeah? But not over the top. Or just assuming he could touch you / do whatever he wanted to you and you... absolutely adored that about him, even if you were literally DYING for him to kiss you and grope you... Among other things.

But now.. Oh god, now. He was a little tipsier than he'd been high earlier. And that affectionate handsiness was more frenzied. Needy. Like he wanted you so badly he couldn't keep his hands off.

You absolutely loved it.

Jodi and Clarissa called out to you, asking if you wanted to leave to go to a drive in with them to get some food, but you waved them off. Smiling as you cozied up to Slater, who slipped his arms around you and called out with a laugh, "I'm k-keepin her, okay?"

Your friends left, leaving you alone with Slater again. And a few minutes later, you two decided to grab a ride with Pink and Mitch over to the Moontower, for the party.

TIME SKIP... AGAIN.

The party was over. Everyone had pretty much gone home. Given that your mother thought you were spending the night with Clarissa, since you'd told her so earlier that afternoon, you really didn't have a curfew. So you and Slater were cozied up at the top platform of the Moontower, lying on your backs, gazing up at the sun as it started to come up. He still hadn't kissed you and you were literally dying for it to happen. He must have been too, because one minute he was telling you his theory on George Washington and the aliens, the next you were settling yourself on top of him, staring down at his lips. He gave a lazy grinning yawn and wrapped his arms around you. Your mouths just barely grazed. You couldn't take it anymore. You rubbed yourself against him a little and something snapped in him. His hands started to roam up and down your back. Stopping under your ass, squeezing. Grinding you right against him. You could feel him straining through his jeans and you sucked in a deep breath. He gave a lazy chuckle, gazing up at you thoughtfully. You rubbed against him yet again and he moaned out quietly, "Somethin ya want, sweetheart?"

"You." you muttered quietly. Your answer seemed to make him come even further undone, because he was really grabbing hold of your ass now. Rubbing you against the bulge formed and straining at his jeans just a little more with each passing second. "I've been dyin to do this, princess." he drawls out in that deep lazy husk as his mouth finally connects with yours. His lips latching onto your bottom lip, the pressure in the kiss making you whimper, the sound swallowed as his tongue flicks out and darts between your lips. You whine impatiently and he chuckles, the kiss deepening. He raises to sit and you wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing. Rocking yourself over his bulge. His hands move slowly over your curves. One settles in your hair. Tangling in a handful at the back of your head, pulling your mouth against his even deeper still. You're lightheaded; you almost can't breathe but you don't want to break the kiss. When his mouth drifts away from yours, you shiver as you feel him tilt your head. Leaving your neck totally open for the taking. His lips move over your throbbing pulse, leaving a line of soft bites and hickies too large to possibly even attempt hiding on their path down. You drag your fingers through his hair, your mouth ghosting over the side of his neck, marking him up also.

The sun's just starting to rise in the sky and it's early morning. You wind up falling asleep, bodies entangled, Slater's fingers dragging through your hair lazily.

What a night....

#Anonymous

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

❛ HIDDEN ❜

with Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza.

Request: hey, I absolutely adore your writing! 💕 I love love love love tranq, if you could write something about reader being a member of mayans and being on a long run, like to meet with sons in charming or something, and they stop to spend the night somewhere, like a motel, and when everyone else is asleep, things get smutty with her & hank 👀 thank you, cheers from northern europe, and have a nice day 😊

BY ANON

Warnings: nsfw, this is pure smut and I'm not sorry.

Word count: about 1.5k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @thedevilsmoonshine

Masterlist.

Lying over a picnic table, you have both hands under your head and your gaze raised up. From there, you can see the star-filled night sky. You have been trying to sleep for the last two hours, but for some reason you couldn't get it. Being so absorbed in counting stars, you don't hear two heavy feet coming to your position, scaring you when the man grabs your ankles to pull them and making you crawl above the wood, until he settles himself between your legs.

“You fucking pendejo!” Hitting Tranq's chest, you growl like a furious dog, hearing him chuckle this time. “You scared the shit outta me, idiot”.

“I've been looking at you for five minutes, without you noticing it”. He says making fun of you, enclosing you in his arms. “You looked beautiful”.

“How easy you turn from creepy to cute…” You laugh shaking your head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Couldn' sleep”.

“Need a help?” He smirks, leaning forward to sink his face into your neck, pressing his lips over your skin.

Some nice shivers run down your backbone, unconsciously wrapping his waist with your thighs, biting your lower lip as you close your eyes. His breath is too warm, touring your jaw with the tip of his nose until reaching your lips to kiss them. You love how gentle he is at the start, caressing your legs with his calloused hands going under the baggy shirt. Without advising you, Hank lifts you up under his grip non stopping the kiss, walking almost blind to his room. He easily opens the door, as soon as he finds it, coming in feeling your hands roaming the back of his head and his neck. When it started? You can't remember. Who knows that between you there's fire sparkles? You don't care.

Lying you down on your back, over the mattress, he pulls away himself enough time to take off his shirt, while you imitate this gesture giving him a good view of your bristled breasts waiting for him. Making himself space between your legs again, spreading them so you can feel better the rock under his sweatpants, the man attacks your nipples with his mouth and his huge fingers. You can't help but say his name undercover by a soft gasp. His touch is delicate, caressing one of your nipples with the tip of his tongue before sucking it and pulling it softly. In the meantime that he has his lustful eyes fixed on yours, his hands go down by your sides until finding the waistband of your panties. Sliding them through your legs to throw the piece of clothing onto somewhere, Tranq begins to draw a kissing path over your abdomen, continuing to your pelvis.

From your thighs emanate a sweet heat that drives him inside, leaving a meticulous lick all over your center. A moan dies in your lips, slightly arching your back.

“I love how you taste, mi amor”.

His hoarse voice echoes between your legs, dumping two thick fingers among your folds making you shudder because of the pleasure it gives you. Curling them, his hand starts a soft and slow pace, as his lips finds your throbbing and needed clit, gently sucking it and pressing it with his tongue. Your man knows exactly how to worship you, looking for your enjoyment more than for himself. You can't help but move your hips almost priceless, but enough for him to know that you want it faster. A third finger fills you up, stealing you a honeyed grunt, going deeper in your wet pussy while he enjoys the taste of your juices. His hand moving rotating inside of you is making you squirm under his grip, placing yours on his head as your gasps flood the room.

“Fuck, Tranq… I need you to fuck me”. You slur with both eyes closed, focused on his tongue sucking your sensible skin above his fingers. “Please…”

His responses come by catching your clit between his lips, to hardly suck it, taking your breath away; arching your back and pressing his face to your center.

“Oh, my fucking god!” You almost cry, feeling his vibrant laughs against your wetness.

Leaving some kisses on your inner thighs, he goes up looking for your lips. Tasting your own flavor in his mouth, fighting his tongue, you rub your needed pussy against his cock covered by the soft fabric.

“You're going to kill me”. Whispering, the mexican pulls down his sweatpants and his boxers, enough to free himself. “Tell me how much you want it, mi amor”.

“I've been waiting for this all day. I really need to feel you”.

“You have been quiet. Bishop is in the other room”. You know you will not, by the way he has to rub the hot head of his cock against your clit and your folds.

“Fuck El Presidente, fuck the club and fuck me, cariño”. You complain almost frowning.

Your groans get husked when he pounds you without expecting, nor advertising you. He quickly covers your lips pressing his on, to shut up the loudly moan born inside your throat. Hank presses his body against you, hitting your g-spot and your soul too easily, giving you time to accommodate your walls to his thickness. He is fucking big. More than you could think the first time you were about to have him between your legs. And when he's sure that he can move, he just simply does with a desperate pace. His pelvis colliding onto your pussy once and again, without taking you a deep breath, drowning every sound in his mouth. One of his arms is under your body, holding you tightly, while his free hand is grabbing your wrists over your head, thrusting his cock a little harder inside you.

It feels so good after being waiting since this morning, when he left your house to get ready for the trip where you have to assist someone's motorbike at Charming, because the Sons' were needing your mechanic skills after some kind of accident. And this is one of your rewards. Spreading your legs a little more, feeling how your body slightly bounces over the bed, Tranq digs his hardness with soft growls stuck in his vocal chords. Resting his forehead on yours and his dark eyes maintaining your gaze, he loosens his grip on your wrists to let you place them on his lower back, trying to push him somewhat deeper, beating up your g-spot in every move he does.

“I wanna ride you”. You mutter containing your moans as much as you can.

“Fuck… yes, mi amor”.

Pulling himself out of your wetness, making you sob displeased, Trank lies down on his back with an arm under you yet. Sitting on his lap and leading his glans among your throbbing lips, kneeling over the bed, you let your body fall down hardly impaling yourself with his dick.

“Oh, fuck”. You cry out covering your mouth with a hand.

“C'mon, mi vida… ride me”. He asks you, using his long fingers to wrap your throat.

Curving your back, your hips start to dance over him, finding a little more of pleasure as much as you spread your legs by both sides of his body. His eyes are on the point that your bodies get connected, watching how easily his cock get swallowed by your pussy.

“Shit… you take me so good, mi amor”. Tranq grunts, squeezing your neck slightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” You cry out speeding up with every thrust, practically jumping on top of him.

His free hand travels to your breasts, pinching them, bewitched by the move they make. Seeing him biting his lower lip full of pleasure, you know that he is as close as you are. The heat is bristling your skin, closing your eyes and focusing on his thickness stretching your walls to the limit, trying to contain every loud moan his cock provokes you. Your legs begin to shake softly, tautening your thighs, and feeling a knot concentrating in your belly. Loosening his grip, you lean over his chest looking for his lips to shut your vocals, dancing desperately with his hands squeezing your ass helping you somehow.

“Fuck… make me cum, please…” You beg between sobs, feeling the sweat stuck on your foreheads when you rest yours over his.

Using one of his thumb, roaming a hand among your bodies, Tranq reaches your clit; rubbing it with the same fast pace. The dry sound of your skin crashing against his and the wet ‘pops’ every time you go from top to bottom, digging his hardness into you, flood the hotel room as the sweetest and dirty melody you could ever hear. Being enough to make the knot, installed in your lower belly, explode in the desired orgasm. Closing your fingers around the back of his head, you muffle a loud moan on his lips, feeling the mexican deepening his throbbing cock into you until filling you up with his seed. The guttural growl that borns inside his chest, dies in your neck, biting it hard enough to make a mark and leave you breathless. His cock twitches inside you, after some deep pounds, you collapse over his chest with a tired smile and a soft sight, making him chuckle.

“Fuck, baby”. You mumble, resting your cheek on him trying to catch back some air, feeling his hands gently caressing your back.

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