#the reason no one wants to hear it is because it's the most fucking depraved visnov ever produced by man
Text
no one wants to hear this including me but saya from saya no uta is canonically transgender, so
#the reason no one wants to hear it is because it's the most fucking depraved visnov ever produced by man#and i don't mean that in a cute way i mean it takes the old internet culture of dangerous paraphilia and is off like a shot#i also mean it in a cute way if you can handle reading the bad parts#however with all that said her being transgender isn't one of the depraved parts. that part just happens#like she just declares she's a girl one day and her dad is like ok#saya no uta#song of saya#agave.txt
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚
Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole × reader
Warnings: Swearing, oral sex, fingering, titty sucking
1.02
It had been days since you left your quarters, and the feeling of isolation and loneliness was plaguing you while you got over whatever sickness you had. You spoke to Rhaenyra previously, and she assured you nothing was going on between her and Ser Harwin, that she merely invited him to her chambers so they could speak privately since he caught her in a compromising position with one of her most recent lovers, Lady Laena Velaryon. Which explains why Daemon would implicate your sister; his ego was bruised and he was mad. Lady Laena hadn’t ended their affair because she had been betrothed to another; it’s because she wants to be with Rhaenyra instead.
Although her confession made you feel ashamed for even doubting her, which was another reason you sought isolation.
You hadn’t seen your own lover or husband in just over a month. Harwin had returned to Harrenhal with his father the morning after you confronted him about why he was at your sister's quarters, and since he was vague, the questioning turned into a heated argument. And your father, King Viserys, had sent Daemon on some errand, which meant him leaving the keep.
You hear a knock at your door, and before you can call for it to be opened, someone enters your chambers. You raise a brow, seeing it’s Ser Criston instead of one of your handmaids. You hadn’t exchanged a word with the knight since you left his bedchamber after sharing a brief sexual encounter.
“Princess,” he bows.
“Ser Cristion,” you say, picking up your cup of wine and sinking down onto one of the plush red chairs. “What can I do for you?”
The knight begins to ramble some weak excuse on why he visited your private quarters when he had no business being there. You shut out his words as you focus on his gaze. The hunger in his eyes has caught your attention, as has the way he soaks up your appearance. The black dress you chose in the morning hugged your curves in all the right places, especially your breasts.
Ser Cristion didn’t come because he wanted to talk to you; he came because he wanted to fuck you.
“What is it you desire, my good knight?”
Standing tall, his eyes meet yours. “To please you, princess, That night we spent together, I focused only on my own pleasure and not on yours. I wish to rectify that.”
You don’t answer right away, deliberately leaving him hanging. When he takes a sharp breath, preparing himself for whatever you would reply, you slowly spread your legs open and bunch up your skirts, revealing your bare chest to him. Criston was a handsome man; his personality was questionable considering he was nothing more than a hypocrite, but who were you to refuse such an offer?
“You may please me with your mouth, but that is all.”
For a split second, you think Criston is going to leave when he faces the door, but instead of leaving, he locks it and then returns his gaze to you. You finish your wine as he kneels in front of you. He kisses your thigh, then moves his attention to your core and lets out an animalistic groan. Your eyes stay glued to him as he sucks on your clit, and your fingers tangle into his dark hair, keeping his mouth where it feels best.
You desperately wished it was someone you loved pleasing you, but yet here you are squirming around the tongue of a man you didn’t even care for, acting like a depraved whore.
—
The hour was late, and the sudden dip in the bed causes you to stir. Groggily, you rub your eyes, “Daemon?”
“My apologies for waking you, my love; I know the hour is late,” he shuffles closer to you in the bed. His bare chest is pressing against your back. “I was away much longer than I anticipated, if I had known—”
“I love you, Daemon Targaryen,” you whisper.
He seems taken aback by your sudden admission, and guilt swirls in your stomach. You had important information to tell him, but now wasn’t the time. Not when you were both exhausted.
“I don't deserve you, my sweet wife,” he says, pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. “But I'm never leaving your side again.”
—
“I was merely training him on how to please a woman properly.”
When neither of you could find sleep, you had a jug of wine and a platter of fresh fruit brought to your quarters. You now sit curled beside Daemon on one of the plush couches.
“Hmm, perhaps he won’t be such an insufferable cunt,” Daemon smirks before sipping on his wine. He found it rather amusing that you let Cole lick your cunny, but nothing else. “So... did you enjoy him tasting your sweet little cunt?”
“Hmm, I prefer your mouth on me.”
He pulls the thin fabric of your nightgown down low enough for your breasts to be exposed to him. Droplets of wine still linger on Daemon's lips when he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks on your flesh.
You giggle. “I’ve definitely missed you.”
Daemon moves his hand along your thigh, feeling the softness of your well-pampered skin beneath his fingers, before he reaches your wet core and sinks two fingers deep into your cunny. “I’ve missed you and your insatiable appetite. You’ve really got the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt.”
You moan at his words.
Greedily, he sucks on your breast while tapping at your clit with his thumb and speeding up his actions of sliding two fingers into your soaking core until the coil in your stomach snaps and his fingers are coated in your slick.
Smiling, you lean forward and nuzzle into his neck, his arms wrapping around you. “Hmm, I’m glad you are home; you have a task of the utmost importance to attend to valzȳrys.”
He rests his cheek against the top of your head while running his fingers through your hair. “And what would that be, ābrazȳrys?”
“You're going to need to find the perfect dragon egg to go in the cradle.”
It takes him a minute to process what you’ve just told him, then he smiles widely. “You are with child?”
You place one of his hands flat on your stomach and say, “Yes, my love, I’m with child.”
—
You nod your head and smile at the lords and ladies congratulating you. It hadn’t taken long for word of your growing family to spread around the keep. Your father was ecstatic and insisted on throwing a grand feast to celebrate, which Daemon agreed to help organize. Rhaenyra had gifted you with the finest silk dresses to accommodate a growing body and toys for the baby. And all of the attention you received was a favorable distraction from missing Harwin so much.
When you reach the doorway to the library, you tell the knight accompanying you that he doesn’t need to follow you since nobody else has access to it aside from the royal family. Spotting the book Daemon intended to read to you next, you reach out to take it, but your arm is suddenly snatched back.
A small gasp escapes your lips. “Ser Criston?”
Cristion’s grip tightens around your arm as he pulls you further away from the doorway room. With a devilish glare in his eyes, he asks, “Are you pregnant?”
“Get your hands off me.”
You have been so busy since finding out you're pregnant that you haven’t even spoken with the knight since the night he came to your quarters. An unintentional slight on your end.
“Let go of me, or I will scream.”
He looks down at your arm to see how tightly he’s squeezing it, and let's go. “Are you pregnant?” He repeats. When you don’t answer him, he takes your silence as a yes. “How far along?”
“That is none of—”
“How far along?”
Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, you sigh, “It’s been three moons since I last bled.”
His face falls.
“Criston…”
“Why?” he barks, and you immediately recoil. “Why did you need to drag me into whatever messed-up game you and the Prince are playing?”
“I will admit I made the first move that night, but you could have thrown me out. And you are the one who tried to pursue me afterwards, so don’t play innocent.”
Cristion takes a step backwards, as though he's wrestling with something internally. He breathes angrily as his eyes move up and down, taking in the slightest swell in your stomach.
You clear your throat. “I know what you're thinking. That’s how long it’s been since we... Daemon knows.”
“And he doesn’t care?”
“No. He loves me, and he will love this child. His child.”
He remains silent as you brush by him. You were a fool for ever going to Criston that night, knowing how cruel he can be and how close he is to the queen. “I wonder how the king would feel if he heard his own precious princess wasn’t sure who the father of her child was.”
You laugh. “Why don’t you share that theory, Cole? I’m sure my father, the king and husband Prince Daemon would love to hear it.”
He glares at you.
“We all need to live with the consequences of our actions, and I have done things that I’m ashamed of, but if you ever utter a threat to me or my family again, nothing will be able to save you from the wrath of my dragon. Do you understand?”
When Criston says nothing, you get the book for Daemon, and as you're leaving the library, you hear a muffled ‘spoiled cunt’ fall from the knight's lips.
—
Taking a deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course, there was a very slim chance that Daemon wasn’t the biological father of your baby… but there was still a chance since you forgot to drink moon tea after sleeping with both Harwin, Criston and Daemon within twenty for hours.
Entering your quarters, you immediately notice something feels different—a shift in energy. You call out, “Daemon?”
He appears within seconds, his expression hard to read. He kisses your cheek and says, “There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”
“Who?”
“Try as you might, you cannot hide anything from me,” he says quietly. “I sent a raven asking for his return.”
Your lips part slightly as the question of who he wrote lingers on your lips, but in seconds you turn a corner and come face to face with Harwin. Your eyes swell with tears.
He stands at attention, “princess.”
“Harwin…”
Husband - Valzȳrys
Wife - Ābrazȳrys
#house of the dragon#Daemon Targaryen x reader#Daemon Targaryen smut#daemon targaryen/you#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen/reader#daemon targaryen fanfic#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon smut#harwin strong fanfic#ser harwin strong x reader#harwin strong x reader#ser criston cole x reader#Criston Cole smut#criston cole x reader#ser criston cole smut#ser criston cole/reader#criston cole x you#Criston Cole fanfic
229 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I ask for general relationship fluff hcs with your favorite Batman rogues?
How about some PDA headcanons?
Riddler
Will literally take time during his crime broadcasts to brag about his SO.
If they’re willing to play “Lovely Assistant” during his show he’ll even give them a quick kiss on camera if they do something he thinks is particularly cute.
Edward will dispense romantic compliments, hugs and kisses to his SO anytime anywhere.
Emphasis on romantic.
He’s kind of uncomfortable with sexual PDA, suggestive flirting and subtle touches are nice but anything too obvious will upset him.
He prefers to keep the details of his sex life private and enjoys being the only one who gets to see his SO that way.
Scarecrow
I wouldn’t go so far as to call Jonathan an exhibitionist but he definitely appreciates his SO giving him affection in front of others.
While few and far between, John has had some romantic relationships, but none of those people ever wanted to be with him publicly.
It was always “Too soon” “Unprofessional” or worst of all, “Embarrassing”
So when his current SO gives him a long kiss on the mouth in front of his friends he practically turns to goo.
He gets a little thrill when his partner gives him a kiss on the neck or grope on the ass in public.
Not because people are watching, but because it means SO thinks he’s desirable and is proud to be with him, it gives a sense of permanence to the relationship in his mind.
Mad Hatter
Most of the time Jervis prefers to keep his affections low key in public.
Unless of course he feels like someone is giving his SO unwanted attention. (Certainly unwanted by him at any rate.)
Jervis doesn’t like to admit it but he can be a tad possessive.
Preferably he’ll take a seat in SO’s lap and start kissing them on the cheeks and fiddling with their shirt collar.
The man is a menace and isn’t above salacious promises to get his SO to go home early with him if the source of unwanted attention won’t take a damn hint.
Alternatively he could simply hypnotize the unwanted attention into walking away(and off a short pier.) if his SO is openly annoyed at the unwanted attention.
Penguin
The only person on this list that refrains from too much PDA out of a sense of propriety.
Possessiveness, personal insecurity and a general preference for privacy are all reasons he understands perfectly well, but he’s mostly interested in retaining a certain kind of image.
He’s a man of class, charm and elegance.
He actively avoids crass displays and only engages in purely romantic interactions with SO while in public.
A light peck on the cheek or cooed compliment are both common displays from him.
He does enjoy showing his partner off to friends and associates just like any other prideful bird, but never in a a vulgar way.
Two Face
Harvey is a possessive bastard.
He does NOT like people leering at his lover for any amount of time.
Even if it’s because they’re being affectionate with him.
Harvey is the kind of boyfriend that rents private rooms at restaurants so he can hit on his date in peace.
It’s honestly a bit silly.
Harley
Harley wouldn’t know “modest” if it bit her on the booty shorts.
She’ll make out with her date in a public park at 2pm.
And it’s 50/50 whether she keeps it completely above the belt.
This women will say depraved shit that belongs buried in the depths of 2010 wattpad to her SO while in hearing distance of 20 different people.
No hesitation no regret.
She doesn’t even get off on it she just genuinely doesn’t care who hears, it’s honestly kind of impressive.
Catwomen
EVIL.
She’s not doing this for the pleasure of the act itself she’s doing this to torture SO specifically.
Selina will slide her fingernails from the top of SO’s spine and into their back pocket for a squeeze while no one is looking.
She’ll whisper everything she’s going to do to them later while no ones listening.
Then she’ll slip inside jokes about it into the conversations she’s having with other people just to fuck around with them further.
Finally, she’ll disappear into the night in the shadow of her broken promises… Until she shows up at SO’s house an hour later.
Poison Ivy
Very similar to Harley in lack of fucks to give.
She should be able to freely show her SO affection regardless of who’s there.
And woe to those who disagree with her.
Any complaints about her being “inappropriate” will be met with a handful of hay fever to the face.
And any cat calling or wolf whistling will be met with a garden pot full of death to the everywhere.
Music Meister
This man will go as far as his partner lets him, he’s pretty much done away with the concept of “socially acceptable behavior” since becoming a supervillain.
He was never a fan of that jazz anyway.
Besides the most extreme reaction he gets from fellow rogues to his shenanigans is to be told to “Get a room!” By Oswald.
Everyone else generally just rolls their eyes or teases him.
So besides outright having sex in front of someone he’s up for anything!
And hey, if it was the right person watching, Something could probably be arranged~
#riddler#edward nygma#scarecrow#jonathan crane#mad hatter#jervis tetch#penguin#oswald cobblepot#twoface#harvey dent#harley quinn#catwomen#selina kyle#poison ivy#pamela isley#music meister#gotham rogues#batman villains#batman#batman rogues#headcanon#pastry writes#for once
48 notes
·
View notes
Note
:3c you know Red Tornado? DC has MANY Advanced Andriods. Alien technologies.
And paranoid Timmy's.
What if Bruce gets thrown into the time stream again? Or too a different planet? Or is injured? Being Batman nearly destroyed Dick. It certainly destroyed his RELATIONSHIP with Dick. The family can't survive it happening again.
Protocols need to be adjusted. Contingencies made.
A back up Batman.
It doesn't have to be convincing, just a real enough stop-gap to hold the line. Maybe stand in for Bruce when both Bruce and Batman have to be seen at the same time. Tim doesn't know why they've never thought of this before! (He has. Decided it was a Bad Idea.) It's brilliant! (NOo, It's still a Bad Idea.)
So during his down time? He starts making the body. Best materials on the market, programs matching up EXACT coloration on skin and hair. Synthetic skin to cover andriod flesh and bones. Perfect! Looks eerily close to Bruce. If he held perfectly still, expressionless, and didn't not breathe.
It's not... EXACTLY the same, obviously. But then, Tim's not a pervert. And the batsuit gives the right illusion, so who cares! And? WEEKS of work in? Tim stumbles to his work computer... and makes a Mistake(tm).
Because Tim IS a pervert.
He just hides it well. And HAS hidden it well for about a decade now. As he followed Batman and Robin around the city, in costume and out. In "Mask" and out.
Because Brucie? Fucked. A lot. And Batman's flings on rooftops with Catwoman were infamous. Tim has seen most of them. Watched most of it. The panting, the groaning, the pleasure. Watched his hands do clever, depraved, things to willing bodies. Watched them squeel and beg. Ride him and suck him and be fucked like toys.
Tim has A LOT of pictures. Videos. The quality only improving, as he became Robin. Was able to get closer. The way his hips rolled, his muscles moved, how he adjusted his script partner by partner. Tim KNOWS it. Has secretly gotten off to it. More then few times.
It is his porn stash.
Problem? He's named it innocuously. Just one of many Bruce video files. Lectures and fights, for him to review. See, Bruce? Nothing untoward! No need to dig deeper!
And he is tired As SHIT. The world is kinda swaying and he wants to pass out. But he needs to start the machine learning program. Click. Got it. Okay, now the video flies of behaviors Tim wants the Android Bruce to emulate. Learn.
They sure to all blend together, don't they?
He DEFINITELY clicked and dragged his "Batman patrolling and Being Generally Batman" bulk file, right? And not, say, his PORN stash of Bruce Fucking. Certainly not. He's not THAT tired! Ha ha...
Anyway! Off to bed! For a festive little coma nap!
And then he stumbles off.
Leaving the Learning Andriod UNSUPERVISED and with incomplete instructions. Well, THAT won't do. Decides B, after he has finished his information packet. How is he supposed to do his Very Important Job, without a cock? Thank goodness he is still plugged in! He can download whatever information he thinks he needs! Again, unsupervised!
What could go wrong? >:Dc
And, well, B comes to some Conclusions(tm). With no one there to stop him or be a sounding board. OBVIOUSLY, he was created because the weak, fleshy, HUMAN Batman failed to recognize his Creator's ardent love and unwavering support. Took him for granted. He, the SUPERIOR B(atman), recognize that his Creator has NEEDS.
That his Creator deserves to have those Needs met. Not ignored in the pursuit of shameless others.
He ALSO realizes? That the REASON his Creator has be struggling and striving so hard, is because he is not being acknowledged! So, he will not need to go OUT and ENDANGER himself, once he has a Proper Batman supporting him!
This makes perfect sense to B.
Tim? Wake up the INSTANT he hears the hum of Lockdown charging up. He did NOT order that. Shit. Tries to go for his phone to override aaand? Nope! Pinned and click! Wrists handcuffed with Kryptonian grade cuffs, to his bedframe. Faster then a human can react.
Oh shit. Rouge Andriod. He's gonna die.
Lockdown finishes charging up and then they are completely cut off. At least Oracle will be getting pinged that it went live. Knowing his family, they WILL break in to check on him. But that will take hours. He might not have hours.
Except instead of pain? Fingers begin to tease his chest. No amount of squirming can escape it. Feather light teasing, brushing down and down, barely brushing skin. Making him hyper aware of where he's being touched. His sleep pants are gone. Fingers that VIBRATE, swirling and grinding a place only he's ever touched.
Tim RECOGNIZES Bruce's tricks. Realizes with horror what must have happened. But that won't stop the overwhelming feeling when those fingers slickly slide deep and grind. Find his good spots and torment until he wants to sob. Til his body is beyond relaxed and actively gushing.
Then B has him by the hips, with hands that could crush STEEL, and is pushing into him. No hurry. No frantic lust. Just unrelenting pleasure for Tim, because B is a machine and can't physically feel any of this.
He's just enjoying this intellectually.
Watching his Creator fall apart. Gasp and whimper. Cry out and beg. The little ahh, ahhs, punched out of him. Being able to meet his depraved little needs. Stuff him so full of seed substitute, he bulges. Then take care of his other holes. It's nice~♡
And by the Time Dick, Clark, and of course, BRUCE, kick down the door? Tim has completely tapped out. Is AWASH in fake cum and will need several IVs of fluids. Dropped so hard into his own head and the glow of sex, he's somewhere on Saturn.
Clark takes B's fuckin head off.
Dick seriously considers melting him for slag metal, now sentient Andriod or not.
Bruce just speedruns the Personal Revelations(tm) he has at see someone that looks EXACTLY like him fucking Tim through the mattress and gets Tim out of there. Will he be revisiting the bolt of lust he felt, seeing Tim spread out and debauched like that? Obsessively.
So will Dick.
There's probably gonna be a threesome. But that's AFTER Andriod smack downs!
Thoughts?
-🐼🐼🐼
👀👀👀👀👀👀!!!! tim accidentally creating a failsafe-esque robot but with a 'stand in for bruce' intent and accidentally creating a sex bot who comes to the clear conclusion that he was created to fuck his creator!!!! this is so good, tim having a secret stash and attraction to bruce that comes back to bite him in the ass in the form of his robot literally learning how to best fuck tim.
clark outraged and thinking he's helping and both dick and bruce coming to the realization they are very much interested in seeing tim debauched like that again.
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
WIP Wednesday - Dieter x F!Reader x Javi G
18+; MDNI
I hope to have this one shot out before the end of the week, we will see how much overtime I need to do at work. (Might just tell them to fuck off cause I need to write depraved smut about two handsome boys but I don't think they would understand)
Setup: Dieter & Javier Gutierrez are working on an upcoming project together and, to help with their creative process, they are spending more time together. This results in a dinner with the three of you, something you greatly anticipate because Javi Gutierrez is your 'hall pass'. Takes place a few months after the release of the documentary.
Tags: Sober Dieter, Dieter still being chaotic, Dieter liking to watch, Javi being soft and seduced, Reader being a switch, mention of Dieter touching himself, Reader & Dieter in established relationship
A/N: First time writing Javi, second time writing Dieter. Any feedback you wonderful people have is greatly appreciated as I continue to lead myself into the deep plunge that is Mr. Pascal's rich universe of diverse and ridiculously irresistible characters
Immediately you and Javier dive into a fast paced conversation, Spanish rolling off your tongue as if it was your native language, Javi’s eyes widening as he engaged with you, Deiter immediately drumming his fingers against the table.
He managed to hold in his words a lot longer than you thought he would, given how impatient he normally is.
“I don’t fuckin’ speak that,” Dieter interjected, Javi’s eyes immediately darting to look at him as he leaned back into his chair—you hadn’t noticed how close you both had leaned into each other. With a smirk, you gracefully turned to look at Dieter.
“I would think for a piece like this, you would learn his language.” You pouted to him playfully, but something in the base of your belly screamed at how you would love to hear that beautiful language come out of that man while he had you under him—all the degrading and dirty ways he would speak to you. Javi enthusiastically agreed with a solid and excited ‘Yes!’, regarding Deiter learning Spanish, but you and him weren’t looking at Javi.
You watched as Dieter initially rejected the idea almost immediately, knowing he would have to put a substantial amount of effort into something that was for a single role. It had been a part of his re-instated values for himself when returning to acting while ensuring his sobriety. He wasn’t going to deep dive into the method, and he wasn’t going to get lost in it…he needed to always want to be grounded within himself—or within you.
But as you just watched him, line after line of what you wanted to hear Dieter say passing from one ear to another, you felt your body fill with an insatiable lust for something you could not have but desperately wanted. It was the subconscious bite of your lower lip that made Dieter shift his expression, suddenly realizing that there was a reason to learn such a thing beyond a single role, even if he didn’t know exactly what it was.
“What do I get out of it?” He asked you, his voice lower than his usual tone, matching the darkening behind his gaze, the flare of his nostrils as a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. You smiled, feeling like you had managed to lure Dieter and catch him with your request, now you just had to reel him in.
Slowly you leaned forward, lifting your body from your seat so that the tips of your noses were almost touching. While Dieter was fully focused on you, the world around you two most definitely melding away in his mind, you were very mindful of Javi’s gaze on you both and you couldn’t help but wish to catch two fish with one net.
“You show me what you do with that mouth,” you whispered, your finger raising to run over Dieter’s cracked lips as your eyes followed, before snapping your gaze back to meet his, “and I promise to show you something new I can do with mine.” You saw the relaxation within Dieter’s gaze, a momentary release from the tension you knew was building within his body while also being satisfied with your terms. You knew it drove him wild when you would act forwardly in any public setting, especially one as intimate as this, and his gaze held a promise he would later show you how satisfied your words left him feeling.
“Wow!” Javi exhaled the word like it was his last, exasperated, breath and it reminded you and Dieter to pay attention to the other member of this dinner party. You turned to apologize, wanting to be polite yet desperate to know if you had caught two fish with your little display, and as you saw Javi watch you with childish awe and excitement, you knew it had worked.
His eyes washed over your body as his eyebrows fell into rest as he continued to soak you up, a soft and shy smile twitching across his lips before he looked at Dieter.
“I now understand, my friend, what you meant when we first met.”
All Dieter did was provide a shrug full of self-satisfied pride as you rested back into your chair, brazenly crossing your legs in a way that let both men have a peek at what lay beneath your silken dress—nothing but your beautiful, delicious, soaked and well fucked, pussy.
They both could not help but look, Dieter naturally adding flares and dramatics to his motions, while Javi briefly unabashedly stared before locking eyes with you and giving a few soft, short, and shy nods before quickly casting his gaze to the ground.
It brought a satisfied and endearing smile to your lips as you reached out a hand to rest it on top of Javi’s, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. It felt impossible how soft his sun-kissed skin was, how warm his hands felt under yours—it all matched his aura and demeanour.
Truly, the man was more enamouring than you could have ever imagined and you could tell the gesture was something he greatly appreciated and responded to based on how lost and lonely he looked when you withdrew your hand, turning your gaze back to Dieter who seemed to be watching the same thing.
“You saying sweet things about me, love?” You ask with a false sense of surprise, Dieter softly laughing before gesturing an open hand towards Javi.
“You wanna tell her what I said?” He asked, pitching his chin to his chest to be able to look at the man above his sunglasses. The posture alone always made your nostrils flare to allow you a deep enough breath to still your heart from beating faster, but it was how you saw Javi squirm at the question that made your thighs clench and pussy quake.
His eyes darted to you as you leaned towards him, purposefully positioning yourself so your plump breasts were pushed up and within anyone’s vision if they were to look at your face. You watched as his throat slowly clenched as he strained to swallow, the tight shirt he wore giving away to the short and shallow breaths he was allowing himself as he gained the faintest red hue to his complexion before he looked back at Dieter as if to clarify if he should.
Your eyes did not leave Javi, so you had no idea what Dieter did, but you assumed it was a gesture or mouthed words, for Javi hesitantly looked back at you bearing a grave expression as if he was about to tell you one of your loved ones had passed away. It swirled a storm in your stomach to see innocent Javi torture himself over whatever Dieter told him about you, which would have been nowhere near the worst and most degrading things he has said about you or to you. Yet you could see it tear the sweet man apart inside, afraid to hurt or offend while what his vision soaked in evoked an opposite desire.
You slowly reached out and placed your hand on his.
“Whisper it to me in Spanish, Javi.” You softly asked of him, your gaze not leaving his while giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. You could see it twist him on the inside before giving a few short, shallow, nods of his head.
“Now I really understand what you meant.” He spoke as if out of breath, his chest rising and falling like he had just run a marathon, yet he still did not repeat the things Dieter said.
“You still haven’t told me what sweet praises Dieter said about me…” You whispered this time as you dragged your index finger over his hand and up his arm, lightly pressing your pointed nail into his skin. Suddenly Javi grabbed your hands and cradled them within his, pulling you from how you had yourself positioned so that he could look at you directly with nothing but an earnest and soft expression of admiration.
“Encantadora...” He whispered to you, but you knew that wasn’t what Dieter had told him because, among the many things he called you that you loved to hear, he would have never described you as ‘enchanting’. “He said you are like a pheromone, irresistibly beautiful and bright, a star from the sky among the mortal man.” Javi continued to whisper to you words you knew definitely would not have come from Dieter’s lips, and the realization of that evaporated your bravado as you suddenly became soft and entranced under Javi’s gaze and praises.
Briefly, the sound of Dieter’s sarcastic, amused, sharp laugh pulled you from Javi, but he squeezed your hands while his face tracked yours as it moved, his eyes always pinned to yours, a soft smile on his delicious lips.
“I did not think a person like that could exist but I finally understand why he made such claims...” Javi admitted, raising a hand briefly to kindly and gratefully gesture towards Dieter before turning his attention back to you. “Look at you, Hermosa, in all of your glory.” He whispered his praise as he continued to acknowledge you with unimaginable awe and disbelief.
The words and expressions were too much, causing you to widely smile and uncharacteristically pull your hand away to cover your face, overwhelmed and extremely bashful from all of his compliments. Silence lingered for a moment, Javi’s hands still gripping your single one, his thumbs delicately drawing circles over the back of it and you only blushed harder.
“No…shit!” Dieter exclaimed with a small slam of the table, before realising his antics and apologizing to the others around them. He leaned into the table, you barely seeing him as you continued to cover your face and look down, trying to search and sense what was going on in your body and mind. “This needs to fucking happen.” He demanded, stabbing his finger into the table with an intense amount of purpose. You felt Javi release your hand and sit back, worried you may have done something wrong and feeling your own sadness at the loss of his touch, you quickly glanced at him only to see he was confused.
But you knew what Dieter was referring to.
“I do not understand, Mr. Bravo, we already agreed to the movie?” He asked as his face pinched into an adorable expression of innocent confusion, as if he had completely forgotten where you and he had been just a moment ago, what sparks were erupting between you two, the carnal desires stoked from your locked eyes. Dieter just grunted, seemingly annoyed with the sweet man’s innocent mind.
“Can’t believe you guys are—Javi, she wants you to fuck her.” He bluntly stated and you watched as Javi’s eyes widened beyond their natural stretch at Dieter and his claim before looking at you. “Love, Javi obviously wants to fuck you…who wouldn’t?” He added the question with a hand lovingly and hungrily running down your back. “And now, I need to fuckin’ see it happen. So…cheque? Cheque, please!”
Dieter looked around the room to see many eyes were now on the three of you after his loud proclamations on how Javi and you wanted to have sex and how Deiter greatly wanted to watch.
“Yeah, yeah.” He groaned while waving a dismissing hand towards a table of four seniors who looked at him with complete disgust. “We’re almost out of here, we just need our CHEQUE! PLEASE!” Dieter bellowed and you had to hide your grin, knowing his fury simply came from his pent-up sexual excitement and tension.
To see you openly flirt with another man, to see you position yourself for him, for that man to show interest in you…that was all a part of the normal fun and games. What seemed to have sent Dieter over the edge into this lustful rage was seeing how Javi’s words affected you in a way his never had.
Thankfully you knew it wasn’t jealousy that fueled his immediate requirement to depart, to see you fucked by his Spanish doppelganger, but was due to the thrill, the adrenaline, along with a growing, desperate, need to see it happen.
He was about to open his mouth to yell again when a waiter ran to his side with the bill. Dieter put his card down on the tray, immediately groaning when the waiter fumbled at the machine.
“Charge whatever, I don’t care. Comp everyone who I fucking offended, how’s that?” He stressed his last word as if taunting the four seniors, ensuring to look directly at the women who still regarded him with sheer horror while the men shrugged as if to say they couldn’t argue with the free meal. “Here’s my signature…” he grabbed the pen from the waiter’s jacket as Javi got up to pull out your seat to gracefully help you up. “Charge whatever the fuck you want, tip generously, whatever, but don’t fuck me over.” He glanced at the shaking waiter, who looked no more than twenty, over his sunglasses before squinting at his name tag. “Kevin, is it?” He paused long enough for the kid to nod. “Don’t fuck me, Kevin!” Deiter stressed before walking away. “I’ll be back tomorrow for my card and receipt.”
And with that, the three of you left to return to the apartment you and Dieter shared. Despite the short walk it was, Dieter had a car called for you all, only so he could sit and watch as Javi couldn’t keep his hands and lips off of you, and Dieter couldn’t keep his hands off his hard and exposed cock.
#dieter bravo#javi gutierrez#wip wednesday#dieter bravo x reader#javi g x reader#javi g fanfiction#dieter bravo fanfiction
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
listen i will always be forever salty and bitter that they didnt use adam's corpse to turn it into the hound.
because imagine how terrifying it would have been for everyone in the schnee manor if the one guy that's been terrorizing her for years STILL came back as a giant grimm monster
and then weiss being forced to see the SDC mark on some random faunus (idk if weiss or ruby have ever met/talked about adam so im just assuming she doesn't know who adam is)
like i get it why they needed it to be a silver eyed person (to spin the whole 'that must be what happened to mom' convo), but it's a missed opportunity to turn the guy who looked human into the Beast he was based on
Now this, this is what RWBY deserved. The world of Remnant is a twist on fairytales, so make it fucking dark and depraved since RT wanted to be mature so damn badly. Also, from what I remember RW never talked about Adam, let alone knowing his scarring. Even his color pallet matches Grimm to a tee, even though we have Ruby, Summer, and Qrow (too an extent) with those colors as well. I’m just, maaan.
But may I also propose a Silver-Eyed Adam?
You get:
A) A foil to Ruby as a huntress for “good and justice” who hasn’t been discriminated against her entire life and is ignorant to the true tragedy of the world she lives in, versus Adam. A member of a minority race who is a fierce combatant because it’s the only way he’d survive, not because it’s “fun and heroic” like Ruby. He’d get away with being a SEW because he’s a Faunus, and a lot of idiots would think he couldn’t wield his eyes because “Faunus are lower beings”, so but of course he wouldn’t be able to, because Adam’s soooo dumb. /s Also, he has a mask to hide not only his scar he would get from SDC, but hide his eyes as he became higher ranked in the WF.
B) Foil to Yang. It’s really weird but I’m not sure I’ve seen a lot of people touch on this, at least recently. Yang genuinely has (or has had if it’s still an ongoing problem) anger issues. Her lack of thinking and forethought literally cost her her arm in her fight with Adam. It didn’t change much in Volume 4. What the writers could’ve done, instead of brushing it aside because for some reason overcoming trauma is “boring”, is focus more on Yang becoming less of a party girl and more of a planner like her mother.
C) Blake development, because good GOD after V5 she had nothing going for her besides Adam. Like, we never saw how she became so enamored with Adam in detail. Her development with Adam could reverse, between her being a more serious-yet-shy book lover and activist to actually playing a more intimate role within the change for the WF. Not just, “hey why did you guys burn my mansion down, this isn’t right”. Like, Blake is the most privileged Faunus in the show. Her struggles next to what we can glean from Adam is absolutely minimal. Can you imagine, after what Adam did to her new home and found family, what the confrontation could’ve been like? Adam tearing down everything Blake has and spitting in her face? Snarling that she’s always been a coward, never wanting to actually face danger because she’s a spoiled little rich girl, and that she could never be half of what he is. And you know what, she deserves to hear it.
D) WHY IN THE GOD DAMN HELLISH FUCK DID ADAM AND WEISS NOT HAVE A SINGULAR CONVERSATION. HE COORDINATED ATTACKS ON THE SCHNEE FAMILY. AND THEN YOUR EX GIRLFRIEND IS ON THE SAME TEAM AS THE FAMILY OF YOUR NUMBER ONE OPPRESSOR? HELLO?? IT’S LITERALLY RIGHT THERE.
- 🐌
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
can't go a week without my fwb jeonghyo
-
nayeon and tzuyu had a fight, jihyo and jeongyeon were the ones who dealt with the consequences of it.
they weren't used to having other people in their apartment for longer than a night, as sometimes jihyo and jeongyeon had friends sleeping over. tzuyu had been there for an entire week already, and even if jihyo and jeongyeon wanted to be good friends and take her in for as long as she needed, they still needed privacy — and tzuyu couldn't run away from nayeon for the rest of her life.
the one who suffered the most was jeongyeon, by being depraved of her alone time with jihyo. during the first couple of days, she didn't attempt to touch jihyo at all, hoping tzuyu was going back to nayeon soon, but for the next few days tzuyu didn't even mention nayeon. jihyo had fun with jeongyeon's eagerness, and for the first couple of days she caught jeongyeon looking at her with a pout on her lips multiple times, knowing exactly why jeongyeon was sulking. it was fun, until jihyo herself started missing their privacy.
jihyo and jeongyeon were most definitely confused as to why tzuyu and nayeon had fought. tzuyu hadn't told them the reason, and when they tried to contact nayeon, the main reason of their lack of sex for the week, nayeon said tzuyu was just being childish, which didn't help much. they sided tzuyu with tzuyu because it was convenient and because tzuyu had a special place in their hearts.
by the end of the week, jihyo and jeongyeon were done trying to keep their hands to themselves, and they might have become careless. too careless for their own good.
"do you think she heard it?" jihyo asks breathlessly, falling on top of jeongyeon, mouth and chin smeared with jeongyeon's slick.
"i'm not noisy like you," jeongyeon replies, hands sneaking across jihyo's waist and then grabbing her bare thighs, pushing them apart to make jihyo straddle her properly.
"i couldn't hear anything with your thighs around my ears," jihyo says teasingly, moaning when jeongyeon grabs her tits, hands barely able to hold them completely.
"can i say i missed your tits?" jeongyeon asks genuinely. "because i touch them everyday when you're sleeping, so i'm not sure if i should say i miss them, but i do."
"you what?!" jihyo presses jeongyeon's shoulders against the mattress.
jeongyeon freezes, realizing she had just turned herself in. jihyo looks shocked. she's not mad, but she pretends she is, wanting to push jeongyeon's buttons.
"um, i..." jeongyeon starts, tries to think about a logic reason for her to touch jihyo while she slept, but she can't come up with anything. "we need a shower..." she deviates from the topic. "yes, we need a shower, you can wait for me in the bathroom."
she pulls away before jihyo can answer and jihyo laughs, deciding to spare jeongyeon from more teasing. she gets up from the bed, puts her clothes back on and steps carefully on the ground as she heads to the bathroom, not wanting to make any noise.
jihyo leaves the door open for jeongyeon as she undresses, and only after she's fully wet under the shower that jeongyeon shows up. jihyo's attention goes straight down, to the toy between jeongyeon's legs that intrigued her, as it had no harness but was fixated in place.
"what is that?" jihyo asks curiously, touching it when jeongyeon joins her in the shower.
"it's something that's gonna make you feel really good," jeongyeon answers gallantly, making jihyo sigh as jeongyeon takes her in her lap easily.
"such a show off." jihyo scoffs. "if we fall i won't have sex with you for a month."
jeongyeon positions the toy against jihyo's slick core, the tip naturally finding its way towards jihyo's entrance. "but you couldn't take a week without it." she slides it in, holding back a moan when her own clit bumps into the base of the strap. "fuck- this feels nice."
"is it inside you too?" jihyo asks, her voice as low as a whisper, dragging her nails across jeongyeon's nape, and soon her mouth finds a familiar spot on jeongyeon's neck.
jeongyeon confirms with a silent hum, hands holding jihyo tightly. jihyo hisses when her back hits the cold wall, but she whimpers when jeongyeon starts filling her in her usual pace. the stretch feels nice, it's not too big, but it's thick in just the right amount, making jihyo's nails sink in jeongyeon's shoulders as she tries hard not to moan.
jihyo doesn't make a sound. it's rare when she can keep quiet, and even rarer when jeongyeon can't, so when jihyo feels jeongyeon's hands holding her impossibly tighter and realizes jeongyeon is enjoying that more than she'd thought, she chuckles against her neck, peppering the skin with kisses.
"it's so cute when you get excited fucking me," jihyo coos, deliberately provoking jeongyeon.
"it's even cuter when you look like a mess after i'm done," jeongyeon hits back, nearly out of breath.
jeongyeon stops the thrusting of her hips for a brief moment, holding the back of jihyo's thighs securely, making jihyo gasp at the movement that leads to the shaft sinking deeper. when jeongyeon is sure jihyo she's holding jihyo firmly, she resumes the jolting of her hips but now switches to deep, piercing thrusts that makes jihyo whimper.
jihyo's heat welcomed the girth nicely, walls greedily grasping the shaft. perhaps she was too out of herself that she barely heard the squeaks escaping her mouth or the sound of slick and skin clapping against skin that filled the bathroom each time jeongyeon's hips jerked forward harshly.
jihyo comes and her body trembles, moaning softly as her forehead rested on jeongyeon's shoulder, walls clenching around the toy inside of her.
"hyo," jeongyeon calls, sweating despite being next to the cold water still falling from the shower. jihyo hums in response, lightheaded after coming for the first time in a week. "suck me off."
jihyo feels herself clenching harder around the toy nestled inside of her at jeongyeon's request, and she hops off jeongyeon's lap quickly. she sinks to her knees in front of jeongyeon and wraps her mouth around the toy, familiar with making jeongyeon come by sucking her strap off, but this time it felt way better for jeongyeon, as she could feel more stimulation directly at her clit.
jeongyeon tips her head down, grabbing jihyo's hair, looking straight into her eyes as jihyo tasted her own cum around the shaft. jihyo bobs her head slowly, dragging her lips along the toy, making a show of sucking jeongyeon off, knowing how worked up jeongyeon got whenever she did that.
at some point jihyo feels jeongyeon pushing her down on the thick shaft, making her moan at the intrusion, her throat stretching deliciously to receive the thickness of the toy but she lets jeongyeon fuck her mouth gladly, her nose reaching jeongyeon's stomach when jeongyeon finally reaches her peak.
"unnies, i think peanut is hungry, he kept scratching the door of my-" tzuyu stops in her tracks when she passes by the bathroom door.
jeongyeon's eyes widens when she realizes her mistake of not closing the door. her cheeks flush and so does tzuyu's, and before she can explain (or, realistically, try to) tzuyu screams and goes back running to her temporary room. jihyo frees herself from jeongyeon's hands and pulls away, breathless and flushing, but certainly not as embarrassed as jeongyeon.
"you didn't lock the door." jihyo says in a low tone that makes jeongyeon shiver. it was partially her fault as well, as jihyo also didn't think about the open door, too focused on more important things. but jeongyeon should've logically closed it. "a month, yoo jeongyeon. a month. no sex."
jeongyeon leans her head back down and looks at jihyo desperately, ready to persuade her into not giving her that kind of punishment, but jihyo cuts her off. "a month. and that's final."
the next day, tzuyu goes back to the apartment she shared with nayeon. jihyo ends up breaking her own words the moment tzuyu leaves, pouncing on jeongyeon the exact second that the door is closed and tzuyu is no longer there. tzuyu doesn't say a word about what she'd seen and she also doesn't allow jihyo or jeongyeon to comment on it, although jeongyeon tries to make things better by making a nice breakfast for her and apologizing.
tzuyu only touches on that wounded memory one time, when she's drunk and all nine of them are hanging out, drinking and playing games. it's random when she blurts it out, her voice is so unusually loud that the four words gets everyone's attention.
"jeongyeon is a bottom!" tzuyu affirms with her voice raspy and piercing, clearly wasted.
jihyo bursts out laughing. deep down she knew that sooner or later tzuyu would mention what she'd seen, but she definitely wasn't expecting for that kind of accusation.
"what?! i'm not!" jeongyeon quickly defends herself. she feels eight pair of eyes staring at her attentively. chaeyoung in particular was seemingly shocked. jeongyeon taps jihyo's thigh. "tell them i'm not!"
"i think it's time for tzuyu to go to bed," jihyo tells nayeon, ignoring jeongyeon's request. "she kind of saw us, you know... when she stayed with us."
"they traumatized me." tzuyu pouts, hiding her face on nayeon's shoulder. "next time we have a fight, you have to go spend some time with them, okay unnie?"
nayeon laughs, patting tzuyu's head. "let's go to bed, baby."
jeongyeon watches as nayeon takes tzuyu inside, with her arms crossed, clearly sulking. it's not that she cared about what the other girls thought about her, but the convinced grin on jihyo's face annoyed her deeply.
"remember you were sucking my dick that time. stop acting smug." jeongyeon whispers next to jihyo's ear.
"come on, let me have this." jihyo pouts and jeongyeon sighs. she answers by kissing jihyo's puckered lips and decides to ignore the judgmental looks chaeyoung gave her and the questioning ones from the other girls.
if jihyo was happy, she was happy. even if it costed a small amount of her pride.
49 notes
·
View notes
Note
It's honestly gross how much I love your writing style🤗🤮😁. You always come up with the most incredible AUs and make it feel so real no matter the topic or theme.
I was wondering do you have a favorite fic that you've written?
Author's Fic Game:
1. Answer the questions about a completed fic that you've written.
2. Then add one extra question to the list.
3. Tag some friends
What is the title of your fic?
When did you start and/or complete it?
How many words is it? How many chapters?
Who are the main characters?
Who is the narrator or protagonist?
Is there a central problem they encounter in the story?
What are some of the main tropes or themes in the story?
What was the steamiest scene in the fic?
What was the hardest part of the fic to write?
What is a favorite line of dialogue that you love in the fic?
What is a small, unimportant detail that you love from the story?
Were there any plot twists or big reveals in the story?
Did the story have a happy ending?
Is there anything looking back that you'd like to change about the fic?
Would you ever want to write a sequel/prequel to this story?
Oh wow, that is THE BEST compliment to hear that it always feels real (because it can get pretty crazy in my AUs! lol). Thank you!!
I really had to not think too hard to choose a fic for this: it's like choosing between my children!
What is the title of your fic? A: I decided to go with Swaddle you so good (You'll never want anything else). It is a fringe story because of the subject matter, but I've gotten A LOT of normies messaging me saying that they tried it anyway and were shocked how much they liked it. Plus I just am super fond of it.
When did you start/complete it? A: Started 8.03.2021, finished 7.12.2022
How many words is it? How many chapters? A: It is 71,916 words, 20 chapters
Who are the main characters? A: The main characters are Steve and Bucky
Who is the narrator or protagonist? A: The narrator and protagonist is Steve
Is there a central problem they encounter in the story? A: Central problem is that Steve is kidnapped by slightly-psycho but mostly-sweet Bucky, and has to figure out how to escape while being confronted with his own suppressed desires
What are some of the main tropes or themes in the story? A: Main tropes are falling in love with the kidnapper, forced to admit you like it, diapers/omarashi kink
What was the steamiest scene in the fic? A: Steamiest?? This fic is full of filthy depraved smut, take your pick of anything, lol. The most emotionally steamy scene, IMO, is the first time they have sex in ch 12/13
What was the hardest part of the fic to write? A: The hardest part to write was chapter 17, where they have the big physical confrontation. I really had to think about how I wanted to coordinate that fight. For some reason it was hard to see it clearly in my head and decide how to make it a serious fight without making either Steve or Bucky's actions irredeemable.
What is a favorite line of dialogue that you love in the fic? A: I don't remember one specific thing, but in general I always kind of cackle at the creepy fucking things Bucky says, especially in the beginning, like: “I’m just taking care of you the way you always wanted, Steve. And you know that.” There’s a bit of firmness to Bucky’s tone that wasn’t there before. “You know what you admitted to me over the chats. And deep down it wasn’t just fantasy. You were yearning for this, to have all your worries taken away.” He kisses Steve’s hair. “And I was always yearning to take them.” And whenever Steve has his little comedic thoughts like: Give a psycho an inch. Those are fun.
What is a small, unimportant detail that you love from the story? A: I love that there's a little wood stove in Bucky's house that Steve snuggles up by all the time. I'm a whore for a good lil' wood stove.
Were there any plot twists or big reveals in the story? A: YES! The biggest moment to me was in the bathtub, when Bucky revealed the truth to Steve about the drugs at the very end of Ch13. Also there was when Steve found out the truth about Bucky's late husband.
Did the story have a happy ending? A: Yes indeedy! I don't really write stories without happy endings, lol.
Is there anything looking back that you'd like to change about the fic? A: Chapters 2,3 and 4 were very short and clipped. I kind of like that, as I intended it to make it feel like time was passing that the reader didn't necessarily see, and I feel like it achieved that, but even still it was kind of strange to have such short chapters (especially ch 2). I don't know if I'd change it though. I did have rando pictures in there throughout the fic and I decided I disliked most of those so I removed a lot of them.
Would you ever want to write a sequel/prequel to this story? A: Prequel, no. Sequel ... eh. I really like the hopeful but open ended ending it has. I don't think I'll ever come back to this one because I want to leave the possibilities open for the reader as-is.
My extra question: what was "the scene," quote, trope, or event that inspired the entire fic? (you know there was something!) A: for me, it was the idea of a scene with Steve sitting in Bucky's lap, being forced to wet himself (😳🫣)
NPTs (from a Tumblr stucky fanfiction search): @holylulusworldlylulu, @veltana, @metalbvcky, @myexplosion, @espinosaurusrexex, @buckyalpine, @moonvis, @bossbtch1, @literaryavenger, @1800jjbarnes, @imyourbratzdoll, @georgiapeach30513
#tag games#authors on tumblr#fanfic writing#author interview#fanfiction#stucky#shrinkyclinks#steve rogers x bucky barnes
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
SHIP OPINION or something adjacent to it… when you rotate alex albon in your head who comes to mind? have you ever vibed with chalex? i luv their little flirty giggly thing like maybe it’s not DEEP but they bring each other little bits of joy. if you happen to have thoughts i would like to hear them!
alex is so incredibly polycule coded in my head. whether it's girlfriend swapping with george or the classic milky way situation with george and lando (thank you ao3 user sirius for my LIFE)
i sort of never think of charles for some reason except when i need someone to do depraved things with carlos. BUT chalex is very important. charles likes alex soooooo much it's really embarrassing and he was all over it when they were streaming in lockdown but he still does it now. like seeing alex is the most exciting thing possible and you know what, he's right.
charles, who's all, y'know. charles. il predestinato, the pain of being the one true ferrari driver, painted scarlet in agony and just as much in victory. charles is in awe of alex. clearly alex has a hell of a presence because like, lando was a little alex fanboy too and george likes alex a ridiculous amount but alex is god to charles in a way no one seemed to be. when he first arrived in f1, especially when he get to ferrari, he wasn't reverential to lewis and sebastian he just wanted to beat them. his attitude to alex, though, is worshipful. charles needs alex to like him even more than he needs every other human being on earth to love him, which is a lot. charles' thing for alex is irrational, unreasonable, a crush on a deep level that alex is a safe person to have it on because he'll brush it away and not feed on it. charles loves alex like someone in thrall to the supernatural and alex makes him a cup of tea or something and asks how the piano's going.
i don't think i can actually write any chalex so here's an old ultra-deep-cut actual fic of some alex/george/lando that got deleted a few years back. warning: features double penetration, background carlando, probably loads of errors cus it was the writing on my phone era after le grand concussion.
The little fucker is glowing. George knows he looks good, Alex obviously looks great but Lando is like a blushing bride, lit up and joyful and uninhibited in showing it. It's the same way he's always been, even when it used to be for just them.
It doesn't require genius detective work to know who's sparking Lando up now. George and Alex had never exactly broken up with Lando but they'd consciously made space around him for whatever was going on with Carlos. They were there when he reached out, never far but far enough to let Lando decide what he wanted.
And that had made them a bit less three and more two-and-one, which had always seemed almost inevitable but frustrated George. If they could solve the geometry of their triangle through some magical thinking, anything would be possible, surely?
But Lando is glowing like he's been lavished with attention, cackly laughter barely contained and with the sort of flush George knows isn't only post-coital but also anticipatory, bubbling with the affection Lando needs to want to go there. It makes him proud - and jealous.
He nudges Alex's knee with his own, gestures with a subtle movement of his thumb and appreciates Alex's eye roll. In between the tests, Alex will tell him he's an idiot. He'll push George into his own bedsheets and fuck him until George can't think about missing when there was three, only the join of two and George is grateful, so much but Alex must equally know he needs this jealous moment. A last gasp at possession, an acknowledgement of the loss.
Lando, small and annoying goblin that he is, had been a warm weight between them - vulnerability by proxy when neither of them could show it yet, eager to get fucked and cuddled and say the things that scared the shit out of them all, quietly, cradled between Alex and George after. Fears about their careers and lives and love that would've been too stark, said by anyone actually capable of articulating them.
But they're not rookies at this anymore. Alex has held him, crying and cum-stained and vice versa and the crutch Lando's inherent wobbliness had excused them had turned into proper support. At which point, George had to admit he just really missed kissing the little git.
He pokes Alex's thigh again, expecting another eye-roll but instead gets a micro-second of a hand covering his before Alex is obnoxiously manspreading, rubbing his knees against both George and Lando's and when the orange-clad body on the end looks round, his face and the glow in it is all for them.
-----
"I've missed you wankers." Lando swearing, unless it's with his hands clenched in sheets and hair messily crushed into a pillow, soaked in sweat, still sounds ridiculous. George pulls him tight against himself anyway, dragging Alex behind Lando.
"Thought you had some sexy new boy to keep you busy," Alex thwacks his arm and George knows he's being ridiculous but sometimes, from the back of the grid, he's not envious of them but he wants just as greedily as they both do.
Lando has to nearly climb his shoulders for a kiss, demanding and reassuring. "Yeah well I thought you'd gone off without me and you know I hate that."
Alex tuts at the pair of them, smoothing soothing hands down them both. This is how it works - front runner comforts midfield and backmarker in everything, from when Lando had to learn the finer points of lasting more than five seconds in bed to Alex getting taught how to relax enough to not need to charm everything into being his way and George's own lessons that in this, too, he could be patient.
"Carlos is good to you, yeah?" George feels guilty that it hadn't even occurred to him,too caught up in how obviously the most annoying big spoon in history had gone to wriggle every five seconds against someone else's neck. Carlos has a girlfriend or something, he's pretty sure.
"Yeah." Lando hides his face against George's jacket, lets them bracket him underneath this fire escape, as comfortable as ever without an exit route.
"Ok mate. I just miss shagging you, Alex never comes forty seconds after I get my cock in him." Both of them hit him, for that, "Oi, this is an abusive relationship."
Lando shushes him, snuggles closer. "You can still shag me, you giant moron."
Alex's hand moves to George's cheek, smoothing a thumb down his jaw, "That would be nice. I can't keep up with George's stamina alone."
Landos hand stretches up to cup Alex's as they all lean in, George's arms around both their thin waists. "What about tonight?"
Their joined-hand slap is more of a stroke and the kisses more than make up for it.
-----
Lando wears a nice shirt, like he's making an effort, which is frankly weird. It makes George's cock twitch, though, where the buttons are a little undone and he thinks about the times they've wrestled each other out of suits, Lando's fingers at George's collar while Alex pulls off his jacket, both their hands working his trousers open until Lando knelt in front of George, wet-mouthed and with Alex's hand in his hair.
"You still with us, G?" Alex has looked up from kissing Lando and they're a picture, one unusually well-groomed and the other in one of George's t-shirts that somehow doesn't fit despite their similar proportions, hanging off one of Alex's shoulders.
"Yeah. I was thinking about the Autosport Awards." Lando blushes, hides against Alex's chest and holds a hand out blindly, fingers reaching to George.
It had been one of the last times of three and Lando had disappeared after, made himself scarce from Alex's huge bed. George had been worried they'd hurt him, until he saw the Insta stories about shopping with Carlos and nestled down against a tanned chest, let Alex comfort them both about it.
After was one thing, the before, though.
Alex teases Lando's face up, with strong fingers, as George takes his outstretched hand. "Do you think you could be up for that, tonight?"
Lando looks uncertainly between them. "I can try - it's been. You know. Carlos doesn't fuck me, so."
George is suddenly harder than he's ever been in his life, "You don't have to."
Lando reels George in by their joined hands, puts George's fingers against his crotch to show him, "I want to."
Alex grumbles at them stealing all the attention between them and George has to kiss him for a bit, Alex's tongue in his mouth while his fingers play over Lando's cock through his jeans.
Something shifts and he realises Alex has picked Lando up, the youngest's legs round his waist to bring him up to their height, "Hey."
Alex looks dreamy, gazing into George's eyes before he looks to Lando. "Ready?"
"Might need some lube and stuff first but yeah." George can't help laughing - yeah, they probably will. He goes to find it, while Alex carries Lando to the bed and they go about undressing each other. "Leave his shirt on, I want that."
Alex looks up, his hands around Lando's thighs where he's yanking fabric down, an expression that's almost dangerously hungry, playful. "Whose?"
George slides onto the bed with a thud, lines himself up on his back next to Lando so they can hold hands while they're looking up at Alex. "Not the guy wearing my manky old Quiksilver from, what, F4?"
Lando grins, grabbing at George for kisses while Alex dispatches his jeans. "Oh G, that's hot - get naked."
Alex has always been the voyeur of the three, loved George and Lando's showoff tendencies and farbeit for him to resist an opportunity to take his top off. Especially with his boyfriend's (plural maybe, still) eyes on him, hot and dark and wanting.
That's what George likes, has always liked about this. The reassurance of not one but two, able to get deeply lost in them both and as he settles back down, Lando spreading his legs while Alex opens the lube George passed him seconds ago, George feels less possessive and more possessed, letting Lando grab at him and bite his shoulder when clever, elegant fingers disappear beneath him.
"Oh, we missed you." George trails his fingers over quivering abs, half-cradling Lando. Neither of the rest of them would try this, more seasoned at the art of knowing not to be frustrated by their limits while Lando still refuses to have any. "How does he feel, Alex?"
Lando writhes, annoyed George isn't kissing him and he acquiesced while Alex is commentating, feeling what he's doing to Lando through their tongues and lips. "Same as always, like someone made the perfect twink who's a total slut for your dick."
Lando breaks the kiss, grabbing at George's face but looking at Alex "It's not just his dick."
Alex leans down, placatingly kissing at Lando's chest as he must do something pretty good, that's a little bit on the edge. Lando arches up, makes a strangled noise and reaches for George's body, Alex's shoulder, "Fuck - fuck. I like your dick too, fuck's sake, I just. Fuck, Alex, please."
Lando is not capable of saying it, right now or ever but George basks in the incoherent affection, reaches out for Alex's dick to stroke him, make him shiver while he's still readying Lando.
"Oh fuck, G. Lando, keep talking and it's gonna be me coming first." Alex squeezes more lube out, both hands going between Lando's legs and the resulting gibberish out of the smaller man makes George's heart swell, watching Alex enraptured by it.
"Fuck, god, it's so much - it's so good, Alex I need you. I need you both, fuck, I missed you. Oh god, fuck me - George, please, I want you too." It's surprisingly actual-word-like, from Lando, maybe Carlos has been teaching him to use them rather than animal whimpers and soft noises that'd never fall out of him or Alex. Probably. Even if they had three of Alex's right fingers and one of his left, wrapped around George's index finger where he's stretched down to get involved, inside them.
"You want to try?" Lando whimpers, nods, mutters 'yes' and turns ragdoll between them as their fingers leave him, manhandled onto George's lap because he's bigger and it's easiest this way.
George hold a hand out for Alex, joining fingers over Lando's hip while he more helps the smallest of them onto him than fucks in, loosely fisting Lando's cock for some contented noises while he settles against George's shoulder. "Ok?"
"Very OK." George's cock twitches - and he knows Lando will have felt it - when Lando sweetly kisses under his jaw, across his collarbone. "Alex?"
Alex is looking down at them, fond and frankly, thirsty. "Fuck each other for a bit - I've missed watching you."
George doesn't need telling twice to thrust up into Lando, knowing he's more than ready. Alex is a little less keen to be fucked unless he's in the mood, which is fine and makes it so special between them. But there's something very appealing about someone who's really, really into it - and George is really trying not to let his mind wander to how the fuck Carlos isn't doing this all day - and Lando is so pliant and responsive in his arms, crying out and pushing back and using George for support.
When he feels Alex's fingers at his own balls, he slows - Lando whines about it but George remembers him liking what came next, so for the sake of both their dicks aching for a minute they can wait.
"Touch his dick, G," Alex's fingers are slick and wet against the base of George's cock, then alongside the shaft, in Lando.
"Fuck, no-" everyone stops "-no, no not no that, don't touch my dick or I'll cum. Sorry. Argh, Alex, do it."
Lando's voice is shaking, his thighs are trembling and when George brings one arm around him, supporting him, his whole body is a tremor through which George feels Alex push in, while their linked hands squeeze and dicks nudge together and George has to throw his head back and whine, delirious.
It's not really fucking, like this, just frantic little movements between them and gasps as they push each other into the support. George can feel Alex's legs shaking almost as badly as Lando's, as his own, Lando using a hand on George's chest to push himself back and make Alex grab at George, frantic with something while his other hand curls round Lando's chest, holding him.
It's barely like sex, too much - like a litany is what George keeps thinking but he has absolutely no idea what that means because his brain is glitching between the pressure of Lando's body and Alex's cock and his balls feel so tight he can't help it when it happens, crying out while he comes in Lando and over Alex's cock.
"So much for stamina," Alex is holding Lando up, over George, their dicks still inside him. "Wank him off, I'll be quick."
Lando sighs, content, eyes closed while Alex fucks him, "I like when you talk over me, like 'mm a toy."
It sounds so wrong, George's post-orgasmic state not as caught up in the filthiness as they are except that Lando says it with such affection he can't help moving his hand faster, tighter, desperate to get Lando to come as he sees Alex bite down on his shoulder, rough and broken in the noise he makes.
Lando is quiet when he comes, easily his least plausible trait if it weren't George knows he wanks off about seven times a day still and paddocks don't leave you much privacy. It's messy - all of them were, everything is, especially George's thighs where it's all leaked down and Lando must be a disaster but he can't do anything but bring them both down for a cuddle.
They have to be careful, Alex spooning Lando while George - clearly the designated jizz sponge for the night - lets him curl up against his collarbone, nuzzling Alex over Lando's head.
It's not a circle, it won't be even in every direction all the time, morphing and pulling but F1 isn't about equals, it's about finding what works.
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
Im someone that was in saneytwt around the time A! first came out in 2020 and let me tell you I've NEVER seen so many people cry "you better not ship the Warners!" or "ThEyRe mInOrS U cAnT sImP for ThEM" by SO many people who claim they can't stand that stuff just for them to do it!
There was a massive saneytwt block list going around and the people thay were added weren't even genuinely shipping it but the person was going through the warnercest tag to look at warnercest art to get the names of people thay were leaving likes. Do you see how NUTS of an exscuse that is?! The list got long enough to about 100+ people until OP realized she was getting nowhere with this and deleted it because everyone used it to follow each other.
Then there was a popular yakwak author we kicked IMMEDIATELY once it came out he brought a child into a nsfw server and groomed them into being their bf. The moment that happened saneytwt notified each other and he was exiles and kicked out of the fandom entirely.
Then the funniest thing to happen so far was one die hard anti was trolling a few authors accounts because they wrote yakdot fics and to counter that, she wrote a disgustingly gorey fic about the warners canabalizing a saneytwt fan (but you know the saying 'dont like dont look' and nobidy looked lmao!) The die hard anti also went undercover to "infiltrate saneytwt" I swear to God! They were so into their "role" that they drew tons of yakwak and shipped it hard. Then the day came where she admitted she was the anti harassing the authors in the beginning for the same thing she likes.
And then a big gimmick account with 100K following told their following of minors about warnercest and made them flood the #Warnercest with spam and hateful messages telling people to kill themselves etc etc...the evidence is all still there if you ever wonder why you see a bunch of brainwashed piss babies spamming the tag.
That's just the tip of the iceberg. As someone who's experienced ALL of this first hand from zanytwt and much from most of the people mentioned below, I want to thank you so much for exposing these losers and creeps. No one would listen to us for years and people have bothered us for no reason for years, the only exscuse they had for harassing us was because we shipped, wrote and drew warnercest, as if there isn't bigger problems in the world like people dying, uneducated kids and real child abuse going on around them everyday. Fuck all of these guys they're getting exactly what they deserve.
Good lord I cannot imagine being this uptight about cartoons. I am terribly sorry to hear all you guys have gone through anon and I hope this blog can bring some sort of closure or peace if it has deeply effected you. These guys are just depraved and jealous that that you are not afraid to say the things you love out loud and they are afraid because they build their following on hating the thing they really like. Then it all comes crashing down when they can't keep up the facade or have no one to talk to about the thing they really like.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I really have no regrets in life. Not too many. Like, I probably wouldn't change anything I have done, but I do feel bad (still) that I did it. Even if it effected no one. I, ME, KNOWS IT WAS BAD, ya know??
Anyways, watching top 10 movies that made audiences mad (horror wise). One of them was 'raw', a vegan becomes a cannibal at vet school. INSANELY realistic. Disgustingly. Exorcist was #1, claiming it caused either a miscarriage or early delivery. But there was one on the list that was the MOST FUCKED UP THINGS I HAVE EVER HEARD/SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. AND HOW IT WAS NOT #1 BLEW MY FUCKING MIND!
Originally, I thought of posting the name. But...I regret reading the movie's synopsis. I regret the knowledge this thing even exists. It's not 'bordering' on that line of art/offensive; it's some of the most depraved things I HAVE EVER READ (I only read the wikipedia! WHAT IF I SAW IT?!)
But I thought 'maybe I am sensitive. I don't even like horror movies.' So I asked a friend who LOVES that shit. I gave him the highlights.
....it fucked with him even. Like, I think he wanted to end the conversation early due to it. lol seriously...
So I will NEVER tell you the name unless you really want to fuck with your head. STUFF OF NIGHTMARES. So I will give you a horror movie with...similar fucked up themes, but not NEARLY as evil.
'the killing of a sacred deer.'
The ending will....alter your soul....
Why am I posting at all? 1/3-misery loves company. 2/3-to say....if you think you have seen evil....NOPE. NO NO NO NO NO. BE GLAD YOU HAVE NOT! Worse than a dead kid in a war zone fucked up. THAT'S HOW TWISTED that fucking movie I won't tell you the name of was...I regret ever hearing the name....(and the name is so...innocent sounding)...
<I mean this movie was SO fucked up, even tho they showed nothing in the top 10 video, they couldn't even TALK about the nothing they weren't showing. THAT'S WHY I READ THE WIKI. 'Can't be that bad.' IT WAS WORSE THAN I COULD IMAGINE>
This was a review I found: '
first of all, this my first time i write a review in here. second of all..
first of all, this my first time i write a review in here.
second of all, the reason why i'm doing this is because this movie made me second thoughts about watching this kind of movies.
i think i've watched almost any horror movie's out there, but this one.. this one made me very uncomfortable in any way.
i'm not gonna vote it, because i'd probably will give it a 8/10, and if i do so, i will feel bad about it, because i don't think that any one should see this movie. and if you gonna see it anyway, so you'll probably understand my dilemma in this situation.
in summary, i hope you're smart enough to decide what's best for you.'
#the killing of a sacred deer#horror#lets just say epstein's island was a starting point for this fucked up shit
0 notes
Text
(to preface, for this post im going to use trans rep as my primary discussion example but i think this line of thought could be applied to basically any marginalized group)
honestly regarding that last reblog and the essay i left in the tags, i dont want to hear anyone praising anything for ‘good representation’ or condemning anything for ‘bad representation’ ever again i think.
firstly because people are so braindead that they cant meaningfully identify either good or bad representation. everything that i like is good and everything that i dont is bad. anything created by any trans person is good and anything created by any cis person is bad. everything that is kind and saccharine is good and everything that is angry and miserable is bad.
(seriously if i have to see one more take thats like ‘media that centers around trans suffering is bad and harmful because i dont like it and it makes me uncomfortable it turns trans suffering into a profitable spectacle, and besides being trans can be a good thing actually its not all about pain’, im going to bite somebody. im sorry that a) u dont understand that sometimes the intent of the media or stories like that is to hurt u and make u uncomfortable, b) u dont understand that someone expressing the pain they felt Because they are trans, and that they wouldnt have felt if they werent trans, is a valid form of art and self expression, and u have no right to condemn them because u dont personally connect with it, c) u dont understand that media doing the bare minimum of including a trans character who isnt hatecrimed against isnt ‘celebrating transness’ and can absolutely also be turning trans pride into a profitable spectacle, and d) that ur making all of this my fucking problem. it is not bad or morally incorrect to connect with and represent pain, especially at the hands of bigotry. my god.)
secondly because arguably it will never fucking matter anyway until society at large comes to terms with and moves past whatever -phobia or -ism we decide to center the discussion on that week.
‘good’ trans rep is never going to change a bigots mind or heart because their problem isnt that they just havent learned the error of their ways: their problem is that they hate an entire group of people on the basis that this group of people threatens their status as majority, moral correctness/worthiness, controller, group in power, whatever—whether this is materially true or a paranoid delusion. likewise, ‘good’ trans rep is never going to be enough for trans people to feel validated because of the way society has been marginalizing and oppressing trans people for longer than most of us here have even been alive, and continues to do so. it will feel nice in the moment, to see that people outside of urself and maybe even outside of ur marginalized group dont think of u as subhuman waste, but that feeling will not last forever as long as hate crimes and bigoted policy keep getting real life trans people hurt, jailed, and/or killed. idk about anyone else but nowadays its incredibly difficult for me to feel anything but contempt, dread, numbness, looking at ‘good’ trans rep while all that stuff is still happening on the daily in real life. its like a pathetic consolation prize for putting up with the horrors of existing, ‘thank u for buying our product despite what feels like most people wishing u were dead, heres this cool sticker to acknowledge ur existence and ur status as one of the ones who doesnt Deserve to be dead because ur buying our product’.
‘bad’ trans rep is never going to push an indecisive person over the fence into blatant transphobia because, to a bigot, ANY trans rep in ANYTHING for ANY REASON is ‘bad rep’. childrens books with the softest, cleanest language possible to describe trans experiences are treated like manifestos written to radicalize our good pure innocent children into horrible sexually depraved monsters. drag queens and trans people interacting with children AT ALL are demonized and called pedophiles just for existing in the same space as children. hospitals that provide safe and necessary treatment to trans people as ONE of the services they provide are issued bomb threats for daring to care about peoples health. the HINT of anything to do with being trans is a call for outrage. yeah, that transphobic caricature in that tv show really sucks to see, but its not turning people into transphobes: it is broadcasting the already material reality that transphobes think of us as subhuman waste, deserving of ridicule At Best and total extinction At Worst. a person who becomes a vocal bigot after being exposed to ‘bad’ rep wasnt an ally before that changed their mind, they were just quiet. what is the point of ‘educating’ people how to spot ‘bad’ rep and call it out if all it does is reaffirm to us that we know how to spot it and condemn? how many transphobes have said ‘i thought trans people were demons and pedophiles for the longest time, but then a random tumblr user wrote a scathing review of this random trans character and how they were a totally unrealistic and nasty depiction of a trans person, and it just opened my eyes to the fact that trans people are actually people, turns out’? when that number is larger than the number of transphobes who have said ‘i didnt really know what to think of trans people before tucker carlson and matt walsh told me they were molesting our childrens minds, but now i know theyre a threat to society’, get back with me.
like. im so fucking tired at this point. im obviously very angry and passionate about this, but im tired too. im tired of people constantly trying to say that society is getting better, trans people are becoming more welcomed in society, because of the handful of trans characters in media and the pride shirts and mugs and shit that u can buy in chain stores, while literal atrocities happen every. fucking. day. i cant be okay or happy with ‘good’ trans rep anymore because it matters so little in the context of how people on the whole view trans people, and i cant be upset with ‘bad’ trans rep anymore because its a symptom of hate and ignorance, not the cause.
i reiterate.
society and corporations are selling us pride through hollow ‘representation’ in media and slogans on mugs for the express purpose of keeping us from fighting to FEEL pride. and all the glorious spotless squeaky morally clean rep in the world will not account for the absolute loathing i have felt from every other direction for years, and the loathing everyone else has felt for decades, and the loathing were all gonna continue feeling for god knows how much longer until people and politicians stop actively trying to criminalize and kill us.
#mine#ive been writing this for the past hour i skipped lunch for this#i feel like ive grown incredibly cynical about this but can anyone blame me?#especially when i hear the TRANS PEOPLE ARE ACCEPTED IN SOCIETY NOW argument from equal parts sheltered trans people AND bigots#anyway. im gonna go get lunch now. maybe then ill calm down fkjdslka
1 note
·
View note
Text
disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.
****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about
CW: ableism, filicide, abuse
In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant.
But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist.
For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.
Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad
Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.
Kaz Brekker
Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)
The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”
Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is.
His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.
The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.
In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”.
I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me.
Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)
Next, we have Wylan.
Oh fucking boy.
I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.
Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.
Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully.
Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled.
Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.
The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability.
Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community.
That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.
The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!
Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged.
And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people.
Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted.
Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows.
Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.
All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)
happy fucking disability pride month, ig
#soc#six of crows#kaz brekker#soc kaz#kaz talk tag#kanej#grisha#grishaverse#ketterdam#leigh bardugo#bardugo#crooked kingdom#ck#wylan#wylan van sunshine#wylan supremacy#jesper x wylan#wesper#jesper fahey#shadow and bone#wylan van eck#jan van eck#ableism#ableist bullshit#ableist slurs#disability#disability pride month#i will punch you in the face#el oh el#laugh out loud
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Raw Desire
Synopsis: Something is wrong with him. Something none of the Avengers, including Thor, understand. When Loki turns into his Jötun form unwillingly and begins to act in a very primal and aggressive way, their solution for the problem is to lock him up in a cell below the compound until it’s all over. It’s a disease, perhaps, one which only Frost Giants can develop. Only Loki is not sick. Loki is in heat--and his Jötun body will not rest until his most carnal desires have been satisfied...
Words: 9176
Warnings: Jötun!Loki, smut, fluff, symptoms of addiction
A/N: You wanted some Jötun!Loki, I wanted some Jötun!Loki... so here we go. Enjoy, everyone! 😏
Additional NSFW Warnings: breeding kink (a little bit, anyway), Loki is in heat (kind of, duh), lack of aftercare (at first...)
-
His antagonising scream tore through the entire compound. You flinched, alarmed. Loki. The heart-breaking sound of pain tugging at your nerves was followed by a loud thump—like a heavy metal door falling shut, locked for good. It had come from the cellar, where the Avengers stored weaponry and ammunition; along with provisory but secure prison cells of Wakandan technology for criminals until they could be handed over to the authorities.
When you reached the source of the rousing noise, you almost knocked straight into Thor. His muscly back resembled a thick fleshy wall that would break your bones if you collided with him with too much force and speed.
“What happened?” Out of breath, you moved around him—facing the culprit of the commotion. The eerie flickering camera right outside the cell door showed Loki knocking his fists repeatedly against the metal door. His knuckles were already bloody from the repeated impact, yet the door would not budge. Much more concerning, however, was his appearance. Loki’s skin—every inch revealed to the naked eye anyway—was blue, his otherwise enchanting blue eyes sparkling with mischief of a deep blood-red. Countless, unique and fleshy lines formed a complex pattern on his arms and the back of his hands, even his face and neck. Your lips parted, both in shock and surprise at what your eyesight had revealed to you.
“He’s losing his fucking mind.” Tony responded for Thor before the Thunderer could even open his mouth in defence. He came tramping into the room as mad as you had never experienced him, tapping away on a tablet in the process. “I told you it was bad idea to bring him back here, Point Break! What were you thinking?”
“Can anybody tell me what is going on?! Why is he… like this? Is he in pain?”
“In pain?! He almost killed Nat. If Wanda hadn’t interfered…” Tony did not finish the sentence—regardless, the threat of what consequences there would have been for the God of Mischief was clearly audible.
“This was unlike him. He had no reason to…”
“No? He pounced on her like a… like a…”
“Beast?” Bruce added matter-of-factly. His hands were in his pocket when he approached the scene and patted Thor on the back in an attempt of providing comfort.
“Maybe… maybe this isn’t his fault, Stark. I know my brother, he’s never acted like this before!” The God of Thunder roared in defence, his arms crossed.
“Yeah,” Tony retorted sarcastically. “You know your brother so well he even tried to kill us all. Three times. No. This man is evil. Look at him!”
Petrified, you risked another peek. Loki was downright animalistic, his fists still working the metal cell door. He was getting weaker, worn out—like the fire in his red eyes was slowly being extinguished to make way for weariness. There was something primal in his behaviour; something raw. You would be ignorant to deny it scared you.
“Tony,” you began, forcing your voice to cease the shaking, “What happened? Why did he attack Natasha? Was he hurt?” Your sudden concern for him was going to give you away. No, not sudden. It had always been there, hidden just beneath the surface of your heart. You had only kept it a secret because… because what?
Loki did not know you had been harbouring romantic feelings for him for a significant amount of time now. Dark, tall and mysterious, he matched not only your type but had hopelessly captured you with his melancholic and lonely nature, the grief in his stunning blue eyes. You refused to believe that Loki was evil, that he had ever truly wanted to harm his brother; and you were desperate to be his friend… and even more than that. But the God of Mischief had hidden his heart behind such a hard shell that you were worried you might never get him to open up to you.
You would by no means describe yourself as an altruistic person—but there was a both enamoured and depraved part of you which desired, longed, for him to like you back.
“Talk to me.” You stated, tilting your head when he flung his dagger at one of the battered punching bags in the training room.
“What?” He sounded almost scornful when he spun around to gift you an incredulous look.
“Talk to me, Loki. I want to know what’s going on in your mind. I thought I was… you are always so distant. You disappear in here every other night, you snap at everyone trying to speak to you. You look nervous, like something is trying to break out of you.” Like you are trying to get rid of monstrous amounts of bottled up energy, you added silently. “You seem so restless. What’s wrong?”
“What concern is that of yours?” He spat.
“See! That is exactly what I meant.”
Loki growled. “What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” You flinched when he used your full name as opposed to the nickname everyone called you by.
“Why? Why are you screaming at me, I’m just trying to help! Don’t you get it, Loki? I care about you. And I care about what you think, even if I am probably the only one in this bloody compound who does.” Now that was unfair. But it was also the truth. “Why are you pushing me away? Let me in…”
Desperately, you moved forward in an attempt to reach up and cup his face, only for him to grab your wrists and pull them away harshly.
“Let you in? All I have ever received in return for ‘letting someone in’ was hurt and hatred. Give me one good reason for why I should open up to you,” he mocked, releasing your hands as if they would burn his fingers if they lingered on your skin for too long. “Tell you about my sorrows.” Sorrows. He had sorrows.
“I am not them.” You simply said. “Not any of them. I am not Odin, not Thor, none of the Avengers.”
Blinking, you snapped out of your memory. You had had this tragic conversation only two nights ago. No matter what you had said, he would not tell you what was on his mind. Now you knew.
“Something is wrong with him.” You interrupted the discussion, one you had not paid any attention to, by silencing them with a loud and determined voice.
“You don’t say?”
“No, Tony, you don’t understand… Loki is… he is Jötun. Thor, has he ever voluntarily turned into his Jötun form?”
The God of Thunder thought about it for a moment—then, he shook his head. “No.” You gave him a meaningful look. “So… you think it has something to do with his species?”
You nodded slowly and swallowed.
“Then we keep him in here until he is better.” He concluded. Your eyes widened.
“What? Thor, no… you can’t keep him locked up in there! What if he doesn’t get better on his own? Are you going to incarcerate him forever?”
“That would be an improvement.” Tony tossed in bitterly.
“We have to help him.”
“We? (Y/N)…” Bruce remarked almost tauntingly.
“You’ll find us upstairs. We need to let the others know about… whatever this is.” Tony added. You gnashed your teeth when he and Bruce turned to leave. For an awkward moment, it was eerily still—right until another one of Loki’s screams tore through the uncomfortable silence. You flinched once more. He was howling in pain.
“You think it might be a disease only Frost Giants can get?” Thor asked with concern in his deep voice at last.
You shrugged apologetically. “Maybe…”
“Loki and I were going to return to Asgard next week. I shall ask around, one of the healers should be familiar with Jötun diseases.”
“Go as soon as you can. Your brother is in pain, Thor, can’t you hear that?”
The God of Thunder nodded absentmindedly. But if no one was going to do something about Loki’s suffering—whatever it was—immediately, you would do it alone. So you did what Loki would do first. You dug up his books.
-
Loki’s room was neat, tidy. The green bed had been made—there was not a single wrinkle in the fabric and the desk was all clean, not giving thin layers of dust only visible in the direct sunlight a chance. The books he had brought from Asgard, old, thick, yellowed and heavy, he had stored on a bookshelf higher than you could reach.
Sucking in a determined breath, you moved the desk chair in front of it. The polished wooden floor to your feet complained with an ear-piercing shriek as you did. Determined, you climbed up to study the titles. All of them were written in Nordic Runes, making you realise that your research would end up being a lot harder than you had initially assumed. You could not speak a word of Old Norse, let alone read those Runes. Never mind that… you needed answers—and Loki needed your help.
It took you two hours to go through the titles and have them translated via a website you had had to pay for (using Tony’s credit card details—desperate times called for desperate measures) to use its allegedly reliable services.
Then, finally, after what felt like half an eternity, you found a suitable page-turner. It was titled Mythical Creatures and Species across Yggdrasil—at least, that was what the website you used told you.
Eagerly, you opened the book searching frantically for the chapter on Frost Giants and began sucking up all the information you could get. The more you read… and the more you compared Loki’s symptoms to the described behaviour of Jötuns in the book, the more aghast you became. One thing was for sure. Loki was not sick. Loki was aroused.
Terror-stricken, you bookmarked the page, grabbed your phone and jumped to your feet, abandoning the pile of books on Loki’s floor. You needed to speak to Thor right now.
He was about to enter the bathroom when you found him, once again almost knocking into his broad form.
“I… I found something.” You choked out.
“What?”
“I found something… about Loki. Thor… he is not ill, not really, he is…” Biting your lower lip, you pushed the God of Thunder into the bathroom, shut the door behind you and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “He is… aroused.”
“What?” He roared, blushing. “What do you mean he is aroused?”
“Look… I found this book, I…”
“You speak Old Norse?”
“No! I used… I used a translator. Thor, listen, please. It says here that to ensure their continued existence, male Frost Giants, every one-thousand years, experience the primal urge to copulate with females of their kind. Much like wolves or elves, this ‘heat’ usually begins with restlessness, extremely aggressive and possessive behaviour, unusual amounts of pent-up energy as well as an extreme hunger and loss of appetite at the very same time. Loki hasn’t showed up for lunch, dinner or breakfast and… he has been spending extraordinary times in the training room downstairs in the middle of the night lately. He barely sleeps, it seems.”
“Go on…”
“How old is Loki, Thor?”
“He is a little over one-thousand years… old.” He looked up in shock when he realised.
“That’s why he is in his Jötun form, Thor. He can’t control it, it’s not his fault, it’s… in his nature. God…” You had read it all, yet you were still working on processing it.
“This… it would explain why he tried to attack Nat. So… he is not in danger then?” Thor probed.
“No, not necessarily but—“
“So we can just wait until it is over.”
You frowned. “Until what is over?”
“His heat! If what you are saying is true and Loki’s behaviour derives from his heritage… if he cannot control his reactions, we have to keep him locked up and wait. We can’t have him ravish all the females in the compound.”
“But… he is in pain.”
An urgent knock on the bathroom door interrupted you.
“Hey, are you having a soap party in there? Other people need to use the bathroom too!” Closing the heavy book shut again, you rolled your eyes.
“There are at least three other bathrooms in this compound, Tony!”
“What are you two doing in here anyway?” He asked as he opened the door and leaned against the threshold when he spotted you two sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
“(Y/N) found out that Loki is… uh… in heat.”
“In heat?!” Tony repeated. “Like a cat?”
“No! It… has something to do with the procreation cycle of Jötuns. It… is in his nature.”
“Fuck…”
“Hey… language.” If you hadn’t recognised his voice, you would know it was Steve who joined your heated discussion. “What’s going on here?”
“Loki is in heat, like a cat.” Steve frowned.
“No, he isn’t! Not like a cat, this is…” Thor stood again before you could finish your sentence.
“It’s for the best, (Y/N). Down there, he’ll be save from getting himself into trouble.”
“Thor, wait! Loki is suffering! Soon, he will…”
“We can’t risk it, (Y/N)! He almost raped Natasha!” Tony barked. “And if you go near him, I’ll lock you up too. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, (Y/N). I will not let him hurt you.”
“He… he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.” You chirped. No. Loki would never deliberately take a woman against her will. If he did… no! Loki had in incredible amount of self-control and composure; and you knew how much he despised his own heritage. He would fight this—for as long as he could.
“Besides…” Tony added. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he got a taste of his own medicine.”
“Stop blaming Loki for your PTSD, Tony. That was Thanos’ doing and you know that.” You growled darkly. The billionaire paused for a moment.
“He is staying where he is,” he concluded then. “Until he’s gone back to normal.”
-
But you did not want to wait. You couldn’t. You had read about the symptoms in detail. In the book it said that moodiness and aggression were only the beginning. If Loki did not act on what his Jötun body demanded from him and… released, then soon, excruciating pain would torment his loins. Masturbation appeared to be out of the picture. You nibbled on your lower lip. This thought of yours invaded his privacy on a truly shameful level, yet you were certain that if sexual arousal had already been plaguing him for a significant amount of time before this outbreak of his, he would have tried to lay hand on himself already and learned it did not provide the necessary relief.
Sooner or later, he would no longer be able to suppress his erection—and it would not disappear until he… sheathed himself inside a female to fill her with his seed. Under different circumstances, the idea of him claiming a woman… you, in such a possessive manner would have aroused you tremendously yourself. As of right now, however, Loki was in agony. The pain, if ignored for too long, would only get worse—it could last up to months and even then the denial of sexual release could result in permanent damage to his loins and even his potency.
But there was no cure either. No potion or spell to contain a male Jötun’s heat which Thor could have forwarded to Asgardian healers.
It was past midnight when you stopped reading and translating—too appalled by how much more Loki would have to suffer if nothing was done about his… condition. The only way to make it stop… was to act on it.
Your lips parted in realisation. You liked him, very much so—and you found Loki incredibly attractive, dreaming of his hands on your body, even. Perhaps you could help him after all. You were not Jötun but… would his body really make a difference? This most primal part of him wished to mate with a female—and although you had never seen a female Jötun, you doubted they looked much different than you did down there.
-
You had to wait another thirty minutes until the lights in Tony’s lab finally went out and you could sneak through the compound and downstairs to the cells—and once you had made sure that Vision was nowhere to be found, you switched off the security camera for Loki’s cell and approached the thick metal door.
It was quiet. He had stopped screaming. There was no banging against the walls either. Yet when you unlocked the door and slipped inside, his appearance, cowering on the floor and leaning against the cool wall with bare feet, startled you to the core. Loki’s raven hair was completely dishevelled, his knuckles bruised and covered in dry blood. His Jötun appearance was downright intimidating and close up, even more fascinating. He was breathing heavily, the thin shirt he had been wearing underneath all of his armour torn in several places, revealing blue skin and in his dark leather trousers… there was a remarkable bulge.
You shivered slightly when his red eyes met yours. Slowly, he tilted his head. “What are you doing here?” He growled hoarsely but weakly.
“I… I want to help you.”
The God of Mischief snorted. “You cannot help me.”
Mutely, you shook your head. “I can. Loki… I… I know what’s happening with you.”
He snorted once more. “So do I.”
“Let me help you.” Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to him. He reacted immediately. Loki jerked, greedily, as if to grab you and pull you on his lap. He could barely stop himself. Yet you were convinced that he would not hurt you in this state… much. A wave of courage rolled over you—you were doing this for him; and you wouldn’t be doing it if you did not like him in this way. Regardless of what he thought of you after, if he could even imagine being with a mortal like that… you longed to stop his pain.
“Leave.” He said quickly when you kneeled down next to him, timidly resting your palms on his thighs. “No… I said… leave… while you still can.” You did not. In fact, you ignored his rather sincere warning. Slowly, to not tickle the sleeping dragon, you reached for the buttons of his leather trousers and began undoing them until he grabbed a hold of your wrists to stop you. He was ice cold.
“Have you… lost your mind?” Loki was cut off by a loud hiss escaping his lips when your fingertips brushed against his erection. He was large—much larger than he would be in his Aesir form, you presumed, and his cock too was blue and covered in dozens of ridges.
“It won’t go away on its own,” you whispered. “You know it won’t. It’s okay.”
Braver this time, you stroked him again, creating more skin on skin contact. Loki was still holding on to you tightly but made no move to stop you. The touch of a female… it must have been bringing some sort of relief already. Coming here had been the right decision.
“Loki…” You murmured. Finally, your hand closed around his incredibly hard cock entirely and you began to jerk him off—gently at first, only to pick up speed when his breathing grew even heavier than it already was. Defeated, he dropped his head against the wall, revealing his blue neck to you. “Please let me help you.” You repeated. “It’s okay. I trust you.” Upon those words, Loki’s eyes widened barely noticeably. Perhaps it was all he had needed to hear to lose his self-control and composure entirely.
Growling like a wild animal, he suddenly started at you, pushing you back firmly so you lost your balance like a beetle on its back, wrapped his ice cold hands around your ankles and pulled you into him. Your back collided with the floor, knocking all air out of your lungs. You gasped for air all the while Loki busied himself with your clothes. Any layer of fabric was too much. He wanted you naked for him. His sheer strength petrified you when he tore at your pyjamas and ripped them to pieces until they were scattered all over the cell. You trembled—but it wasn’t the icy temperature of his blue skin that made your limbs shake so much. It was, so you realised when your widened eyes fell on his massive erection, now fully springing free from his tight trousers, your own arousal growing into dizzying heights. This, whatever it was, excited you—maybe even way more than it should.
Once more, the God of Mischief grabbed your ankles, forcing your legs open. Your heart skipped a beat when he laid his blood-red eyes upon your bare pussy. Your lower lips must have been glistening with your juices in the artificial light of the cell. Loki growled, his long and cold fingers gripping your ankles so tightly you could already feel the bruises forming. Eagerly, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his hard and ice cold cock teasing your clit. A moan escaped your lips, urging him on. The fire in his eyes had returned, like your body had set his ablaze.
He spread you even further for him, your nails digging into the metal floor beneath you—and then he claimed you for his own. Inch by antagonising inch, he split you apart, sheathing himself so deep inside of you all air was knocked from your lungs yet again. He was ice cold and he was much larger than the average man; and you were beginning to understand that yes, female Jötuns were anatomically different than humans. Human women were not made for taking such long cocks… so why did every single powerful thrust of his feel so good?
Loki pulled out almost completely, with only the tip remaining inside of you, only to plunge back inside only the fraction of a second later, fucking you furiously. Your tight and wet walls appeared to mould around his manhood, gripping him tightly, asking for more despite the almost unbearable coldness against your most intimate parts. No longer were you in control of your arms. They reached up, palms gliding over his bare chest and enjoying the coldness under your fingertips. Fascinated and aroused at the very same time, you traced every single ridge on Loki’s body while he was fucking you senseless, until your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to take the pleasure. His long manhood his spots inside of you which you had never known even existed. He leaned down, at last letting go of your ankles, instead taking a hold of your wrists to pin them both down right above your head and pressing his body so tightly against yours that your clit kept rubbing against his pelvis with every single stroke. You moaned, stricken by ecstasy, and arched your back as you kept moving your hips up to meet his thrusts.
Aroused, you looked down, watching how his blue cock kept sliding in and out of you, spreading your lips as they enveloped him welcomingly.
Loki groaned, his attention steering towards your breasts as they bounced with each of his rough thrusts. Hungrily, he lowered his face, his cold breath ghosting over your mounts, and sucked your right nipple into his mouth—hard. He nibbled, suckled pulled and bit until the already hardened nub was throbbing with pleasure and need and he repeated the same blissful procedure with your left nipple all the while he kept rutting into you uncontrollably.
“Loki…” You wondered if, in his current state, he would be able to speak. As of right now, he indeed reminded you of a wolf who would annihilate anything standing between him and his subject of desire, his prey—you.
Your toes curled, the promising and numbing sensation growing in your lower abdomen having you scream his name over and over again. You could already feel yourself clenching around him, your body urging him on to mark you with his seed and impregnate you and when he finally released himself into you, burying his cock as deep inside of you as was physically possible and coating your walls with his load, he triggered your own release.
You came with a loud moan, feeling him twitch against you as your pussy contracted around him again and again until you collapsed underneath him, spent and tired from his vigorous fucking. Loki, on the other hand, didn’t even think about letting you be. Unceremoniously, he pulled you on his lap so you came to snuggle up against his cold and naked chest, your face hidden in his neck. He supported himself by leaning against the metal wall, his cock still resting deep inside of you.
“How… are you… feeling?” You breathed out, barely able to keep your eyes open. Being taken thoroughly by a Frost Giant had been a lot more exhausting than you had initially assumed.
He was panting, his eyes almost shut. His erection inside you, however, was still very prominent and nowhere near ebbing down.
“Better… soon.” He growled into your ear. Soon? A high-pitched scream escaped your lips when he sank his teeth into your neck and bit down hard enough to make you squirm on his lap. You could still feel his ice cold sperm dribbling out of you and coating his own cock when he grabbed your arse and began moving you up and down his cold rut, forcing you to ride him.
“Oh… fuck…” You choked out. You were tender already, sensitive to the touch. This was too much, too soon. Yet Loki was too caught up in his pleasure and urges to give you a break. He took you several more times that night, eliciting orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you—until you were on the verge of passing out.
-
You awoke with a hunger unlike one you had never experienced before. Irritated, you crawled out of bed—using the toilet but skipping your morning routine to get to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. It was only seven. Loki had not… released you until half past six. There was no way your body could have drawn enough rest from this meagre hour of sleep.
Be that as it may—for now, you were hungry. Quietly, you tiptoed into the kitchen, ignoring the sweet ache and tenderness between your legs and resisting the urge to cup yourself through your pyjama bottoms. The white and bright light of the fridge blinded you when you opened it and reached for a package of juice and one of those pre-packed turkey sandwiches Tony kept buying. Unceremoniously, you then closed the fridge with your butt and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. And you kept returning to the fridge until Steve joined you in the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and then go for a run. When had you ever been this hungry before? Was it because of the aggressive sex you had had with Loki? Jesus…
You blushed when Steve asked you how you had slept—and you were rather grateful you had been smart enough to switch off the security cameras before… helping Loki out. He had still been in his Jötun form when you left at long last but he had looked content and… satisfied, in the most carnal manner possible. You would wait until the rest of the Avengers were up to check on him, to not raise any suspicion.
So when Thor staggered into the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face, you nearly jumped from your seat.
“Good morning!” He yelled—clearly in a very good mood. He managed to scarf down an entire package of fruit loops before you couldn’t take it anymore and aggressively scratched your fork over your empty plate until the room went awkwardly quiet.
“Didn’t you forget something?” You asked him heatedly. The God of Thunder frowned.
“No! I did flush the toilet this morning, (Y/N).”
Rolling your eyes, you stood.
“Loki. Loki is still one level below you, locked up in a cell, in pain, while you are enjoying your breakfast.” You hoped though, sincerely, that he was no longer in pain.
“(Y/N)… we spoke about this, there is nothing we can do. Down there, he can’t hurt himself or anyone else. I told you I’m going to Asgard soon, I will speak to—”
It was in this moment that your plate broke in half. You had, subconsciously, used your fork to stab it so forcefully it fell apart like a rotten apple. Eyes widening, you mumbled an apology.
“Sorry… I just… no one should be suffering like this. You all heard him last night.”
Bruce gave you a gentle smile. “You’ve always had a big heart for everyone, huh?” You nodded quickly. They did not need to know about your feelings… or the arousing ache between your legs. Your heart was racing. You took a deep breath, hurrying out of the kitchen without cleaning up behind you. Instead, you immediately locked yourself in the bathroom and turned on the tap to splash some cold water on your face. The icy temperature calmed you once it came in contact with your skin, reminding you of him—if only for a moment.
You were shaking. What on Earth was wrong with you? You took a quick shower to wind down, threw on an oversized sweater and then headed downstairs to the prison cells. A glance at the monitor of the security camera made you let out a relieved breath. Loki had indeed gone back to his Aesir form—and he did no longer seem to be in pain. It was, so you wondered, very unusual, however, to not complain and wreak havoc so the Avengers would let him out but then again… would they truly believe him if he told them he had overcome his heat?
With another deep breath, you opened the cell door and slipped inside.
“You were not supposed to see me like this last night. No one was.” He said quietly before you could even open your mouth, not bothering to make eye contact with you.
“Did you know? What was happening to you?”
“Yes.” He snorted, a bitter smile spreading on his thin lips. “I believed I would be able to control it.” Finally, he looked up, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Did I hurt you?” Your lips parted in surprise. Slowly, you shook your head.
“No… I mean… it was quite pleasurable… for me as well… actually.” You choked out sheepishly.
“Hmm… that I could tell,” Loki gave you a light smirk. “Thank you.” He said then—and for the first time since you had met him, you sensed true honesty and sincerity in his smooth voice.
“I’ll leave the door open.” You returned his smile; the planes in your belly flying loops.
“We are… keeping this between us, are we not?” He hastened to ask when you turned around.
“Of course.” After all, no one needed to know you had let Loki mate with you to regain control over his loins.
-
It was five days after your intimate encounter with Loki when your constant shaking became worse enough for him to notice—and if that wasn’t bad enough already, your body had begun to sweat; a lot. Day in and out, you had to change your sheets as if your bed was your personal sauna—or your personal hell.
You felt like you had been hit by a bus, like an extremely nasty form of the flu had you in its steel grip tightly, unwilling to let you go. Sleep, however, to get some rest and recover, would not come either. Two hours per night at most, three if you got lucky. And instead of getting better, it became worse.
He had been restless ever since. It could not be. After all, it had also never… or had it? Growling to himself, he locked the door to his room, enjoying the quietness and most of all, utter privacy.
Not a soul in the nine realms was aware he was still in the possession of the Tesseract. So when he produced it out of thin air—his large hand momentarily surrounded by a green mist—he made sure to hurry and quickly teleported himself back to Asgard. Heimdall would never open the Bifrost for him if he wasn’t accompanied by Thor.
He was worried about you and his surprise about these particular circumstances was remarkably low. When he closed his eyes, he could still taste your hard nipples on his tongue from when he had suckled on them. He remembered how warm your body felt against his when he had cradled you in his lap and the thought of your tight cunt around his throbbing cock stirred arousal in his leather trousers if only he indulged in reminiscences for too long. Most of all, however, he was unable to forget the sincere smile on your face when you had freed him from the cell the next day… and the mesmerised gaze you had met him with when he had ravished your sweet quim over and over again.
With another deep breath, he disappeared in an ice cold cloud of smoke.
-
Sneaking past the guards and into the palace library—the one place he had spent hours on end in growing up here, hiding away from Thor, his friends and the world, reading and hoarding knowledge—was pathetically easy. He knew exactly what to look for, what lecture would confirm his worrying suspicions. Once he found what he had been searching, he sat down on the windowsill—another usual spot he found comfort in—and began his research. He had known about the impact of a male Jötun’s seed on his female counterpart, of course; for even though he despised his own race, he, as opposed to Thor, had paid attention during their private tutoring lessons as children. The heavy book in his hands, however, made him, the God of Mischief and Trickery, hold his breath. What Loki had not known was that the repercussion of a male Jötun’s seed did not just occur in Jötun females. It applied to any species—including humans. However, the chances of survival for weaker lifeforms were alarmingly low.
Abandoning the book, he hurried out of the library and into the city. There was someone he needed to speak to.
-
“With all due respect, my prince but you are not welcome here.” Loki rolled his eyes. He knew it would not be fun, exactly, to seek out his ex-partners and ask about their well-being long after he had left them. The man opening him when he knocked on Sigyn’s door, a woman he had been engaged with for several years in his youth, was about as tall as Thor—his right hand decorated with a golden ring. Husband. Just great. And, judging by his obvious dismay of finding him on his doorstep, she must have told him about their shared past.
“I need to speak to your wife. Urgently. That is an order.” Sigyn’s husband growled, clenching his fists but stepped aside regardless. Loki made sure not to pay any attention to the furniture and his surroundings. Toys were scattered all across the living room, hinting that Sigyn had become both wife and mother in his absence. Her face fell when she spotted Loki standing in the middle of the small room—truly like he would even have preferred Helheim over being here of all places—as pale as a ghost.
“Loki… I mean… your highness. What… brings you here?”
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Um… by all means. Sit down. Would you like some ale?”
“No.” Sigyn pointed at the rectangular kitchen table and then sat down opposite of him. Her hands were folded on the surface of the polished wood.
“It is good to see you.”
“Likewise… Now this will sound odd,” he began unceremoniously, ignoring her husband towering above him with his arms crossed. “But I have to know how you fared after we separated. Not… emotionally. Physically.” He emphasised.
“Physically? That is indeed odd. Oh, I… um… let me see, it’s been such a long time. I had quite an appetite after you left,” she laughed, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. Loki sighed.
“An appetite. What more than that?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Except… yes, of course! I fell ill a few days after. The healers never found out what my body was rebelling against. It lasted for a few months. Tiredness, insomnia, attacks of sweat and I could not stop shaking. Why do you ask? Did you… did you experience it too?”
“No,” he replied quickly, a nauseous feeling spreading in his guts. You were showing the exact same symptoms. Symptoms of addiction. “You said it lasted for a few months?”
“I am sorry, your highness but is there a point to this interrogation? My wife has to feed the baby.”
“We’re almost done.” He barked, glaring at Sigyn’s husband from the corner of his eye.
“It did,” Sigyn confirmed. “But then it never returned.”
“Thank you. That will be all.” Loki took a deep breath and stood, resisting the urge to massage the bridge of his nose to clear his thoughts. It was only when he turned on his heel to leave this way too harmonic place that he noticed Sigyn’s husband had left the door open for him. He rolled his eyes.
“Loki! I-I mean, your highness…”
“Loki is fine, Sigyn. We have seen each other naked, after all.” Beside him, he could practically hear her husband gnashing his teeth. He smirked.
“I understand you do not wish to share with me what troubles you but whatever it is, I hope everything will turn out to be alright.”
Loki gave her a smile. It was as honest as he could muster in this tense situation. Sigyn had always known when he was being plagued by dark sorrows, even before he learned about his true parentage. Much like you. You too had been able to tell he had been unwell, both physically and mentally. He swallowed thickly.
“Thank you, Sigyn.”
He had to see Amora, too. They had not exactly gone separate ways peacefully but if she had experienced the same symptoms as Sigyn after their break-up, he had to get back to you immediately. And he had to tell you. The truth, a luxury given his nature, was the very least you deserved.
-
“Where have you been?” Thor roared as soon as he entered the kitchen to pick up one of those cold drinking chocolates you had introduced him to a while back—the ridiculous amount of sugar would help you, if only for a moment. The presence of Tony, Nat, Bucky, Steve and Thor, leaning against the counter or sitting at the kitchen table, he ignored as best as he could. He would have preferred to be alone now.
Loki quirked his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Asgard, given that you were unwilling to get help yourself.”
“How? Heimdall wouldn’t…”
“There is a lot Heimdall does not know, brother.” Thor grumbled something he did not understand but it sounded awfully like a curse word in Old Norse.
“Whatever. Have you seen (Y/N)? Her room is down the same hallways as yours, has she left her room lately?” Tony barked at him.
“As far as I am concerned, she has Vision bring her excessive amounts of food, for she is too weak to come to the kitchen herself. No. I have not seen her around.” He replied nonchalantly, with false disinterest. This time, so it seemed, however, his choice of tone, equalled shooting himself in the foot.
“We need to get her to the hospital. None of the medicines I gave her worked even a little bit—and I contacted the best doctors I know.” Loki suppressed a scoff. As if a hospital full of human ‘doctors’ would be able to help you. The only one who could… was he.
“For Fuck’s sake, she has been feeling ill ever since…” Tony’s face fell. “Ever since we locked up your brother.” Belligerently, his gaze wandered over to Loki again. “Okay, Reindeer Games, what did you do to her and don’t even try to lie to me!”
“You do assume, automatically, that I have something to do with it?” He mocked. Tony clenched his fists.
“Loki,” Thor added calmly. “Do you… know something?” The God of Mischief sighed. If he told them, what little trust they had in his capabilities as an Avenger would vaporise like smoke. It mattered not. In fact, he could not care less if any of those self-proclaimed heroes even liked him. Yet if he spoke the truth… surely they would do anything in their power to keep you away from him—which was exactly what they could not do if they wanted you to survive and feel better again as much as he did. He could just take care of the problem on his own… sooner or later, however, they were bound to find out about their intimate encounters, and he was beyond keeping secrets like that. If he wanted to make love to you, then he would, may the Norns help him.
“It is… my seed.” He choked out reluctantly.
“Your… what!? Your… yeah, no, I can’t say that out loud without throwing up… is making her sick!?”
“The seed of a male Jötun is causing… an addiction. Withdrawal will make her weak and ill.” Loki looked up grimly. “Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships.”
“What, like penguins? How did she even come in contact with… did you… did you rape her? I swear to God, I will kill you.”
“I did not lay a finger on her.” Loki replied darkly.
Tony threw his hands up in the air. “So how did your happy juice get inside of her in the first place then!? How did that happen, I wonder?”
“She came to me voluntarily, Stark!”
“But you knew? If you knew it would make her sick, why didn’t you stop her, you selfish asshole!?”
“How!? How, Stark!? Resisting the urge to mate in heat is like attempting to suppress a sneeze. It’s impossible. Don’t bother your pathetic human mind with things you do not understand.”
“Loki…” Thor began warningly. The God of Mischief ignored him with a hostile growl.
“(Y/N) would never do that.” Tony said then.
“Perhaps you do not know her as well as you thought you do.”
“You little shit, I will…” Tony jumped from his chair as if stung by an adder, prompting Loki to draw one of his daggers seemingly out of nowhere when he started at him. Both Natasha and Steve barely managed to hold him back.
“Leave it, Tony. This is Loki. He is just trying to provoke you.” Nat appeased.
Just this one time, however, they were wrong. Loki did, in fact, care about you. It was just he had not realised that until you had willingly offered your body to him when he had been in pain. Glaring at them darkly, he rose from his chair.
“I am going to fix this.” He spat. It almost sounded like a threat. “Not for you. I could watch you drop dead to my feet without so much as blinking. But for her.” Fuming, he stormed out, his right fist still clutching at his dagger in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. And as of right now, Thor knew better than to stop him.
He needed to see you. Remorse and guilt were eating him up from the inside out—and it wasn’t just the fact you had helped him in spite of everything he had done to Midgard only a few years back. It was… you were… Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. You were his.
When he knocked on your door, there was no response. Now there was a chance you were asleep, yet he somehow knew better than to leave and try again later as to not startle you. After all… he was going to make you feel better.
He slipped inside, locking the door behind him with magic so you would not be disturbed. The sight of you almost broke his heart. You were trembling, buried under a pile of blankets, pale and weak.
“(Y/N)…” He spoke with a quiet voice, approaching you slowly. Your eyes opened when you heard his voice, your weak body barely managing to turn over to look at him. A cough escaped your lips before you could answer him.
“Hey…”
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.” You tried for a laugh but could only manage another cough. With a straight face, he sat down on the edge of the bed so he was able to bring his palm to your forehead. You were incredibly warm, yet the sweat made your skin cold to the touch. His heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he was worried you only had a few weeks left until your body gave up fighting the withdrawal. He would not, ever let this happen.
“I brought you some cold drinking chocolate.”
“Oh…” You chuckled weakly. “Thank you. Is that the only reason you came?”
“No,” he laughed. “I came to check on you.”
“An eye for an eye, huh?” Your eyes fell shut when you smiled.
“Hmm… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated than that.” He purred. You never noticed how his eyes fell on your crotch, even if it was covered by a bunch of blankets. Slowly but determined, he slid his left hand under the layers of fabric until he found what he was searching for. With skilled fingers, he began to massage your clit until he felt you responding to his attentive touches. You arched your back, your sex growing wetter and wetter fast—like your body knew exactly what would follow. Licking his lips, he scooped some of it up to spread all over your quim and create even more friction. You were squirming by the time he removed the blankets entirely and positioned himself between your legs, careful not to shift all of his body weight onto you.
Was he going to… did he… could he possibly… reciprocate your feelings? Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies awakening in your belly. If only you could…
“Loki… Loki, I… I really want to do this again too but… not now, I’m… I really don’t feel well.”
“Shhh…” He would ponder over your words later. You wanted to do this again too? Had it not just be compassion and pity that had driven you to offer him your most intimate parts for relief? And what if you refused him now? You had to trust him. So he shut you up by pressing his lips against yours, capturing them in a passionate kiss and then, once again slowly but determined, removed the blankets and peeled your pyjama from you until he had you naked—fine, he had helped with magic; and he was certainly too impatient to remove his own clothes, so instead contented himself with freeing his growing erection from his trousers only.
A whimper escaped your lips when you caught sight of his arousal, his tip—not blue but the colour of flesh this time—pressing against your entrance. He slid inside you to the hilt with almost no resistance, your warm pussy welcoming him in. Loki moaned when your walls gripped him tightly; it was like your body already knew his release would make it feel better. Only this time, he was in control. This time, he would take his time and make gentle love to you—right until you began to tremble underneath him for entirely different reasons.
Your eyes fell shut when Loki started moving, retreating almost completely only to plunge back deep inside of you fast and passionately. You were too weak to buck your hips, as much as you would have loved to. And despite your weariness, he felt incredible. You were unable to decide which form of his you liked better.
You kissed him again when his nose brushed against yours and his breath tickled your lips, bathing in the intimacy between you. But when he slid his hand down to where your bodies were united to pamper your clit all the while speeding up, hungry for his release, you stopped him, albeit gently.
“I… I don’t think I can, I’m too… but I… it’s okay.” You murmured. “Cum.”
It was a request he could not resist, not any longer. Thrusting forward a few more times, his release was beginning to overwhelm him. He groaned into your ear, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, and let his climax consume him. He was throbbing against your walls, his seed—surprisingly warm and not as cold as it had been the first time—filling you to the brim and until you could feel it dribbling out of you again. Loki stilled, turning you over so you both rested on the mattress on your sides, with his slowly softening cock still inside of you and one of your legs draped over his hips. One heartbeat passed, then another and another. And just like that… you felt like you had been reborn.
“How… I feel so much better.” Loki kept silent. Remorse was sparkling in his blue eyes. Avoiding your curious gaze, he looked down, with a start fascinated with the blue roses on your bed sheets.
“Loki?”
“You did fail to read all of it, did you not?” He stated quietly.
“What… what do you mean?”
“The book you took from my shelf. I looked it up when you got worse. It wasn’t until I left for Asgard that I realised why our… sexual encounter is making you ill.”
“I… wait… Does that mean you believe it has something to do with you? I mean… what we did? Is it… I’m not pregnant, am I!?”
“No. You are not.” He smirked at you weakly. “That, I would have sensed already. No… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated. Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships. They never… switch their partners once they mated during their first heat. If they do…” Loki took a deep breath. “It appears that the seed of a Frost Giant triggers some sort of… addiction for their female partner. They develop a carnal craving for their seed which forces them to keep returning for… more.”
Biologically speaking, this was a downright bulletproof way of ensuring the survival of a species—the Jötuns’ own bodies turning against them and demanding sex. The gravity of his words, however, hit you only a moment later. So this was why you had been feeling so sick lately. You were showing signs of… addiction. Your body had become addicted to Loki’s seed. You swallowed thickly.
“I-is there… is there a way to stop this?”
“I went to speak to my former partners back on Asgard—which, to be frank, does not just sound like a disaster. But I needed to know if they experienced any symptoms similar to yours when we… separated.” You ignored the painful sting in your heart when he said ‘former partners’. Of course Loki had had sex before, had perhaps even been in love. He did not strike you as the type of Norse God who was unexperienced in the art of love making. After all, he had more than just proved this to you. It mattered not, not now.
“And… did they?” You probed nervously.
Loki nodded seriously. “They were both bedridden for months, plagued by uncontrollable trembling and sweating. Their appetite increased, they ate twice as much than they usually would without ever feeling truly full… and they barely slept anymore, tossing and turning for most of the night. Amora added she became increasingly violent as well. They, of course, believed it was a virus which would pass, eventually.” Terrified, you remembered how you had broken your plate in the kitchen the night after your lovemaking. It all made sense now.
But you did not dare ask what this meant. When dreaming of having a relationship with Loki, you had not imaged a partnership out of physical and sexual necessity which would feel like a chore to him; like an obligation now that you had helped him out, after all.
“But they were Asgardian.” He suddenly said, pausing to let his words sink in. “You are human. You are mortal. I am uncertain you would survive…” If I stopped having sex with you. Is that what he had meant to say before he stopped himself abruptly?
Taking a deep and shaky breath, you gathered all of your courage, as weak as it may be.
“This is all my own fault, Loki.”
“It is not—“
“N-no, let me speak. It’s my fault. You couldn’t help it. And I came to you on my own accord. But…” You swallowed. “Even if I had known, I still would have helped you.”
The God of Mischief frowned when you reached for his hand and held it—but it was a downright vulnerable expression.
“Loki… I’m not going to expect you to keep having sex with me if you don’t… I mean…” It was then he began to smirk cheekily.
“And if I do?” Loki had truthfully speaking always been a puzzle—always keeping his deepest thoughts and feelings all to himself. Until now. So he did reciprocate your feelings.
“Y-you do?” His smirk widened.
“It… does get better after a while, once the pair is more acquainted to each other’s bodies,” he continued. “And they are then able to spend more time apart without any signs of withdrawal showing. Ultimately, however, once the male Jötun claimed her, the female is bound to him… if he decides to keep her.”
Despite your weakness, you raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty sexist, Lokes.” Loki looked up. His heart jumped when you gave him a nickname.
“Sexist? No. Dominant? Yes.” He growled darkly.
“You’re right. It’s probably not sexist given that male Frost Giants go into heat.” You giggled in response. Loki tickled your sides for that remark, making you wriggle around on the bed. If your hunch was not deceiving your love-drunken mind, then the God of Mischief had just begun to court you.
“Loki?” You mused, raising your voice in a shy manner.
“Hmm?”
“I think I feel fit enough now to have an orgasm.”
The God of Mischief laughed—as heartily as you had never heard him laugh before. “Do you now?”
Next thing you knew he was already on top of you again, covering your naked body with tender kisses.
-
A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥
#raw desire#loki#loki imagine#loki x you#loki x reader#loki fluff#loki smut#jötun loki#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson imagine#loki laufeyson x you#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson smut#loki laufeyson fluff#loki odinson#loki odinson imagine#loki odinson x you#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson fluff#loki odinson smut#marvel#marvel imagine#mcu#mcu imagine#thor#thor imagine#the avengers#the avengers imagine#tom hiddleston#jötun loki imagine
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI
goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon, profanity, abuse, anger issues, anxiety, arson, bullying, child neglect, child abuse, drugs, addiction, anorexia, guilt, pills, unprotected sex, stalking, trauma
TIP-JAR
PART ONE
IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM - PART TWO
IN THE TRAILER
She ran away from him in the hallway.
He’d warned her of what would happen if she did.
Knowing it was a matter of when as the next day he was left waiting, grazing the halls of where she’d left him with a kicked ball-sack on the dirty school-floors, all lovesick and frenzied with fire ants raging over his skin and a manic promise that one way or the other he’d get her. Lying in suspenseful spiteful wait to tell everyone what type of slut the little spitball in class 3c General Studies really was.
But, timing was everything, and as the day went by without him spotting her he realized the opportunity to ruin her reputation in school wasn’t going to rear its head.
She was home…
Sick.
Or, that’s what she’d told the school. One quick question at the reception told him so.
She was home.
Home in that run-down trailer-park sorry-excuse for a home she despised, the one she cried about so often, the one with neighbours who didn’t give two shits worth a damn about who she was or that her mother was a crackhead-whore in no position to take care of her.
She was there instead of at school begging him to stop, begging for him to give her a second chance, begging him to kiss her, like she was supposed to do.
Standing outside her trailer, he wondered if whether her mom was home or not. He wondered if either one of her neighbours would care if they saw him break in, if it even was considered breaking in.
He spotted her mother slouched on a beach-chair beside some other trailer with a needle still stuck to her arm, ugly destroyed skin sizzling in the summer-heat, mouldy flip-flops sticking to her feet.
He cringed at the sight of it, but knew then that his pursuit would go on unprovoked, which at the very least brought him some sense of relief.
She’d gotten in through scholarship as she in no form or way could afford a school like UA. That much was clear, unlike how unclear the crystal-meth shards decorating the plastic salon-table placed on the outside of their van was.
She transferred half-way through the first year, all on the account of pure hard work.
He could respect that.
He did respect that. Given she was quirkless and all. It was the reason she’d caught his eye.
It all went sideways when she rejected his invitation to Homecoming.
He’d already gone miles away out of his comfort-zone, out of his element, talked himself into asking her out, only for her to turn him down.
Him.
Best student in Hero-course 1A at the time.
Rejected.
He knew it was petty of him to bully her because of it, but… she didn’t only make a fool out of him, she broke his fucking heart.
He could have listened to Kiri, and tried to forget about her through some other extra, but... he wanted her. He’d decided. She was his. And a quirkless trailer-rat like her was in no position to just say no.
In some sick sense he believed she deserved better. Him being better. But, he would like for her to ask for his help, instead of him just giving it to her. He would like to see her grovel, beg, just a little bit, or a lot. He wanted to see her regret her decision. He wanted to see her sorry. He wanted to see her want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted it to be her who initiated it.
But… he could see that wasn’t happening. He could see that his unorthodox methods of courting her through continuously trying to bend her until she broke only consisted of her rewinding or snapping back like a rubber-band.
She was distracted, too busy being broken by what life had given her, too busy with juggling different shifts, bills, schoolwork, to be thinking about him and how he pushed her around a bit at school.
He eyed the cracked paint of the faded trailer with much the look of a snob on his face. Fingers brushing over the door-handle, testing how much noise it would make if he were to pick the lock, coming to a complete loss.
He could barely believe it… the door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside he was even more distraught to see there was no existing lock there to be locked in the first place.
Meanwhile her mother was too busy slowly dying to better protect her daughter from depraved humans who could come and do just about anything they wanted with her.
Meaning… just look at him.
Soft snores brought him back to where he was once he closed the door behind him. Making the short way to the source of the groggy sounds, feeling his stomach flutter at the thought of how wrong it was of him to be there, sneaking about like some love-obsessed sick stalker, getting turned on by hearing his prey sleep.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
And why didn’t he care enough to stop?
He stood at the foot of her bed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, head tilted to the side to view her sleeping frame.
Sleeping on top of the covers, not under.
He doubted it was because of the heat, the same way he doubted the mattress beneath was clean.
She was curled onto her side, knees bent and tucked up. Cute with that teddy-bear she used as a pillow, silly and stupid but cute because of it, especially in her uniform despite having left the tie and blazer off.
She was wearing her uniform.
Meaning... she’d either gone to bed with her clothes on and slept through the entire day, or she had planned on going to school this morning, but weaseled her way out like the weakly coward she was.
Well, in that case… what he was about to do would serve her right then...
Ought to teach her lesson.
He lifted his hand out of his pocket, producing a finger to poke her ankle softly, before stroking up a path alongside her socks, all four other digits joining in the stride before the fabric came to an end and his callous fingertips glided onto the doughy flesh of her leg, over the dome of her knee and onto her even softer thigh, coming to the edge of her skirt.
He always liked her in that skirt.
That’s where his mind was at as he started lifting to see what underwear she was wearing, yet never getting that far as something sharp dug into each side of his wrist.
Her nails weren’t of course any close to lethal, yet managed to surprise him as she whipped around to meet him, digging the talons into his roughened skin.
She might not have prioritized figuring out who it was that was currently touching her in her bed, but she had assessed the situation enough to know that someone was in fact in her house and touching her, something of which is not a good omen when you live where she lived, nor in any other situation for that matter.
He tried subduing the splash of struggles that followed her awakening by climbing and crawling some further up on the bed in order to control what myriad of flailing limbs came at him.
Soon, hands that had primly started clawing at him were safely locked in his much larger hands.
“Oi, relax! It’s just me!”
As if it being him would have any other effect than of rising her already racing heartbeats. Yet, even as her lungs heaved for as much air as her tight chest would allow her, he managed to capture her focus, her hands pinned to each side of her head whereas her feet were stopped amidst their kicking, crushed beneath the weight of the much stronger, much more encompassing mass and weight of Katsuki’s legs.
He hunched over her, back arching with his face a mere half-foot away from her own, the only thing supporting his upper-body being his arms, which were stretched out and grasping at her wrists, pushing them into her pillow.
Her eyes were large with craze-ridden fear as they locked with his recognizable carmine ones.
“Bakugo?”
Shocked and scared, with the creeping feeling of anticipation waving over her again, now all for different reasons then when she first understood there was an intruder in her caravan.
Somehow, it being Bakugo gave her an even starker unsettling eerie feeling than if it had been a total stranger. Maybe because oblivion is bliss and knowing what is to come makes the inevitable that much more inescapable.
Still, she demanded he tell her, even though she thought she might already know the answer.
“What are you doing? Why are you here!?”
“You weren’t at school.” He stated, spoken as though it preforming as explanation enough, though serving as far from it to the girl beneath him, the confusion shown in the way she scrunched her brows together.
He noticed, contemplating whether or not he should make his reasons known, but deciding against it and for playing with her for just a little while longer.
“I thought, since you managed to wiggle your way out of your punishment at school, I’d bring the punishment to you.”
He searched her features for any cracks in her composure, but though she looked beyond uncomfortable, she made no moves to push him off.
Her eyes squinted instead, narrowing at him.
“I’m not scared of you, Bakugo. I know you’re not gonna hurt me.”
Her body started twisting under him. The action far from vigorous, mainly meant to show her discomfort as she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere unless Katsuki decided she could.
And though the intention to her wiggling was not to evoke his arousal, it most certainly managed to do just that.
He inhaled sharply and she felt her body freeze up, seize at the feel of his hips making a shift to slot himself against her, grinding down onto her flattened and unmoving body.
“Hurt you?”
He let out a low rumble of a laugh, like building thunder.
“Who said anything about hurting you?”
Her breath strained as his eyes scrunched closed upon her jerking, his own teeth sinking into his bottom-lip to maintain the hiss on his tongue at the pull in his pants, his head descending to nuzzle against her chest, spiky hair poking at her chin.
Mouth breathing hot breaths onto her ear, causing her to whimper.
“Thought you just said you weren't scared?”
She swallowed thickly, improperly giving his rhetorical question an answer, feeling her wrists go numb under his hold and her blood running cold.
“Bakugo…?”
He didn’t answer and she felt herself go even more rigid at the absence of his voice.
It wasn’t often Katsuki didn’t speak back to her when she willingly spoke to him. In fact, it was never. But now, he was quiet, too quiet, making the frightening rugged sound of his heavy breathing overwhelm her ears, dulling her senses in the process before everything being sent into hyperdrive upon the feeling of his hand leaving her one wrist to cup her breast outside her shirt, giving the mound a careful and slow yet full squeeze.
She yelped at the sudden attack, her body jumping up against him, making yet another teasingly harsh contact with his clothed cock.
This time he hissed, both upon her delicious little struggles but also because her newly freed hand had actively made the decision to pull his hair as a desperate means of making him move.
It worked to some extent, at least in freeing her other hand which opened for the opportunity to drag herself out from beneath him.
Yet, the action was stopped in a series of rather clumsy fighting, where Bakugo managed to retract the upper-hand once again, pinning both her wrists with one hand whilst tugging loose his tie with the other.
He’d slotted himself between her legs now, her skirt spreading and hiking up her thighs as she struggled to stop him from tying her wrists together and fasting them to the handicap-bar mounted on the side of the bed, yet failing.
Her body free for him to touch now, to tamper and play with, and she felt her heart catch in her throat, small pleas coming erupting from the place because of it, but he didn’t seem to hear her, and if he did, he was electing to ignore the pitiful sounds.
His hands traveled down her sides, thumbs rubbing over the scratchy material, the fabric of her shirt stiff as a result of using dollar-store laundry detergent.
White shirt; made up of thin fabric to make the fight against the Tokyo-heat easier, yet resulting in it being so temptingly easy to make see-through with just a little spill of water. Water Katsuki was always so eager to pour, either with light teasing spritzes from his water-bottle or in carrying her over his shoulder into the showers and holding her there as the water rained down upon her, drenching both her and himself, then offering ever so mockingly if she would like to borrow a shirt, because unlike her he had a dorm-room with fresh and dry clothes, whereas she only had that one uniform and all other clothes made up of more holes than actual textile.
He chuckled at the memories as his fingers moved up-front and centre to tamper with the buttons.
“I bet you just hate this uniform, don’t yah?” His voice, although maintaining the snicker, was soft. Not loud and abrasive and rushed, but as though he was enjoying himself, thoroughly at that, drinking in the moment.
His movements too, were slow; careful.
Large warm hands stroking down the bare skin of her stomach, feeling the tremors as he did so, with eyes glued to those perfect mounds found beneath what looked like a well-worn sports-bra, making him wonder what she’d look like if he were to dress her up in expensive red lace. She’d be mouthwatering to look at either way, and breasts are just as soft whichever way they’re dressed… it’s not like the bra is staying on for too long anyway.
He swallowed thickly to stop his mouth from dripping.
He tucked her shirt out from her skirt, taking a moment to grip her midriff and squeeze to try and ease her struggling.
It only resulted in her thrashing even more, whirlwinds of panicked get-off-me’s and fuck-you’s and stop’s spilling from her mouth in rapids, but the plead seemed to repel off Bakugo’s ears like water off a ducks back where the desperation only aided in satiating his sick sadism, in the same fashion tears fell from her eyes aided in making his stomach churn or flutter with something he could only describe as bliss, her arms trying to the best of their efforts at tugging at her bonds, to no avail except for making the skin found their chaffed and sore.
He spent a few seconds deciding whether he wanted the skirt on or off as he felt up the fabric between his fingers, more memories flushing his mind with such sweet and potent nostalgia of him lifting up the short excuse for coverage in the school-halls every day to sneak a peak at her underwear, or those times he would bend her over classroom-desks and push his bulge where it would fit so snuggly against her ass.
“Kinda feels like this skirt gets shorter and shorter for each year...” He mused, stroking up the skin of her thighs, lifting the fabric in the process, revealing a pair of black cotton boxers which, despite being lackluster, forced a groan to rumble from his chest.
The fuck-you’s had turned to please’s and the change made a smirk curl onto his lips as he put his lips to the inside of her thigh before pulling away to look down at her, all spread open and quivering for him.
Breasts all perfect, squished together in the comfort of her bra, hair splayed on top of the pillow, her nose turning all red and adorable with her eyes brimming with both panic and tears.
Her skin felt so soft and untouched beneath his fingertips as he stroked up and down her thighs, pulling them towards him, as far as the bonds on her wrists would allow, slightly struggling with how much the panic had taken a hold of her, her legs kicking and flailing.
But he liked it that way.
Messy and desperate.
“Don’t be difficult, Quirkless, you’re not getting out of this.” He spoke so calmly, so collected and controlled and determined. As though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, as though this was his right. “This is the only thing you’re any good for anyways.”
He leveled with her clothed little sex, slung her legs over his shoulders, watched as she squirmed upon his breath, heard her whimper and plead with his name as he stuck his tongue into the fabric, her legs doing a little involuntary kick while her thighs where firmly secured in his hands.
“Worthless quirkless little pussy on legs.”
She sobbed as his fingers latched around the ribbon of her underwear, pulling, tearing the fabric, with no need to pull it down her legs, just a need to pull them off.
A content and knowing smile made its way onto his lips, yet she was unable to see it in her position, something of which she was thankful for, or… as thankful as one can be when being defiled by a friend.
Not that Bakugo was much of a friend anymore, but he had been, at some point before he'd offered more than one concerning opinion about quirkless people and their place in the world.
Of her place in the world.
He didn’t share her nostalgia though, not when the future was smiling at him with the face of her shaven warm pussy right in front of him.
“Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me? Huh? Knew I was coming?” He teased as she shook her head sporadically, unable to form any type of words in her overwhelming embarrassment and fear and panic.
He grinned smugly, despite knowing it was due to her spot on the swimming-team she kept herself clean and hairless, also knowing that the only reason she took swimming-lessons was because she and her mom couldn’t afford the hot-water bill, making her take showers at school instead, and that a spot on the swimming-team gave her a free-ticket to using those showers anytime she wanted.
How many times had he snuck in there to watch her soap up her body?
How many times had he palmed his erection to the sight of her?
How much he’d wanted to waltz in and take her against the cold tiles, make steam roll off the walls, hearing her voice echo his name...
Now he had the real deal though, no more time for fantasies.
She was smart, she was resourceful, but not enough to put a lock on her door.
She was lucky if one thought about it.
Lucky it wasn’t just any random guy who walked in and took her like Bakugo was going to take her.
Lucky it wasn’t just anyone’s tongue jutting out to lick up her spread folds.
Lucky it was Bakugo who was hugging her thighs close to him, using them as soft warm pillows as he nuzzled between them to lick and suck and bite at the little bundle of nerves found right there in front of him.
Lucky it was Bakugo that had her squirming and quaking and whimpering and crying.
Because, taking everything into consideration, she was safe with him.
Safer than she would or even could be with anyone else for that matter.
Who else could really protect her like he could, like he will, like he has?
She should be grateful he still wants her after she rejected him, humiliated him like she did. She was sure going to pay for it tonight. But first, he could at least treat her to what she had been missing, especially when thinking of how much he was going to take from her before the day let up.
It almost made him feel bad.
Almost, being the keyword, because without it he wouldn’t have thought it funny how many noises she could make without alerting anyone from outside, how no one cared whether she blubbered out common sniveling protests and screams of his name, begging him to stop, or those equally loud yet scarce moans that sprung from her despite her not wanting them to, each time he sucked too hard or too harshly on her clit, teeth rubbing over the sensitive skin found there. Her hips dancing a panicked series of shimming from side to side, controlled in his grasp and only aiding in his tongue finding new places to lick and suck at as he laid abusive worship onto the temple between them. Nose bumping and dipping and rubbing onto places too tender as his mouth moved lower.
Her knees jolting as he kept them spread open, claws digging into the grabbable flesh each time she would pound the ball of her heel into his back, the movement always falling still upon the building simmering threat of explosions in his palms, pain much sharper than that of his nails.
She wanting nothing more but to wrench away, especially upon feeling the shameful treacherous dripping of herself down onto the bedsheets, disgusted with her body, humiliated beyond repair, with the tongue of Katsuki lapping up what mess he had made out of her, teeth from a grin gracing in feather-light motions, yet still managing to shoot electricity up her core.
All she could do was pant and sob through moans and trying her best to force out more protests even though she knew it was to no use, until she felt him pull away, leaving her cold in loss of contact with heat.
She doubted his removal was because she’d begged it from him.
Her doubts being answered as she heard the crisp clatter of a belt-buckle opening.
Her eyes were swimming, gifting her with more panic as she wasn’t even able to see what he was doing, yet knowing, again wishing she didn’t, wishing she was rather deaf as well as blind, wishing all her senses to simply give away, all so that she didn’t have to witness what she was surely soon going to have to be the victim of.
She heard the clothes dropping to the floor, looked up at him through bleary blurry eyes, still recognising the sandy nuance of his skin fully on display before her.
His large hands found her knees again, prying them open. His hips fitting between her thighs.
“Ba- ba- Baku- go, plea- please, don’t- don’t… stop.” She choked on her tears, on her fear, on her panic, on the feeling of the cold breeze making her exposed sex shiver and beg for something warm to fill it up, on her disgust.
“Don’t stop?” He snickered, pinching her clit between his fingers, making her arch with a whine before trying to wrench away, yet stopped by his hands steadying on her knees, spreading her open for him.
His cock-head delved between her folds, and he had to catch a pathetic whimper from escaping his throat, settling for biting his lip instead and ridiculing the reason as to why he was feeling so weak in the first place. Growling at the little girl beneath him, all tied up and defenceless and hopeless and pathetic, but still able to make him feel so small.
“I knew you were just a stupid slut.”
It helped hearing her scream for him.
It helped hearing her choke on her own gasps as he filled her tight little space up with the warm length of his cock.
It helped feeling her squeeze and seize around the girth of him, hugging him close and tight, filling and stretching her out so nicely.
She had resorted to hectic crying, no words, no protests, just sobbing, hiccupping, coughing up her own cries.
And, although he imagined himself growling and groaning he fell short of those guttural rusty sounds and fell prey to whimpering like a lovesick puppy humping a plushie-toy instead.
His hands holding onto her hips as though letting go meant death as he rolled his hips into her, feeling her warm velvety walls welcome him home.
It felt so good he nearly barreled over, his face buried in her chest, hand coming up to enclose over her mouth as so to stop the cries and hear those soft muffled moans she made instead.
Small stifled broken wet mews spurred into his palm, as he kissed a trail up the valley of her chest and onto her neck, whispering with his breath shaky.
“If it makes you feel any better… this is my first time too.”
He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because he was suddenly regretting his decision of being a monster, or maybe because the fright of being vulnerable disappeared at the feeling of conquering what made him afraid.
“I spread a rumour in second that I fucked Ururaka just to see your reaction.” He let out a breathy laugh, the open smile on his face indicated his nostalgia, as though it were a fond memory. “But you didn’t care at all did you?”
He snapped his hips forward, hitting something painful making her scream beneath his hand, opening it to hear her sob out in whimpers.
“Did you?!” It was accusatory and loud and right next to her ears, as he bared his teeth.
She was sure she was bleeding, feeling as though he was tearing her up, splitting her open, every harsh thrust felt deep within her abdomen, churning her guts.
“I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor- sorry!” She spluttered out, more thick gulps of tears streaking her cheeks with red.
“You know what I think?”
He leaned in closer, his nose poking into her cheek, lips brushing her ear, hands now having moved to cup her knees, pushing them up into the bedsheets beside her shoulders, hiking her up to meet his sharp thrusts.
“I think you wanted this…”
She shook her head as his grin gleamed from seeing her discomfort.
“Leaving your door unlocked like that, you were begging for this to happen.” He laughed, biting her earlobe, heavy balls clapping against her ass.
She sniveled. “You- you know we can’t afford-” She started, but was cut off by her own broken moan as Bakugo yet again made another sharp movement, sending an earth-shattering smack to fill the crammed space of her RV, and then again cut off by Bakugo’s own response.
“Yeah? But you could still afford that dress you wore to Homecoming couldn’t you?” He sounded crazed, upset and angry and obsessed with making her regret it. “When you went with that fucking extra instead of me?”
His forehead pushed against hers, eyes a feral red and large with rage, watching in sadistic glee as she scrunched her eyes together in pain, trying to block his voice out from her head.
“Yeah, I bet you’re sorry now.” He growled, again taking a break from his series of shallow thrusts to push deep into her, making her whine in wet agony. “That was the worst mistake of your life and you’re gonna make it up to me tonight.”
He pushed himself up, looking down at the crying mess he was buried inside, licking his lips.
She couldn’t stop apologising, as he fucked into her, her hands going numb under the bondage of his tie around her wrists.
“I’m sorr- sorry-” She croaked, face burning from her tears.
“Yeah? You better be.”
He gathered her ankles in his hands, holding them up, one hand coming to roll her sock down her leg.
“You’re gonna be.”
His hand caressed her small bare-foot tightly, thumb digging into her sole, his mind drifting to how cute and tiny it was, smaller than his hand, and strangely soft for someone who chooses to walk everywhere to save money.
“I’m sorry-” She blubbered. “I’m- I’m sorry...”
She struggled for breath between her apologies and cries, forgetting how to inhale as Bakugo’s cock crammed into her, stripping her lungs of their air.
He kissed the pad of her foot, before leaning down again, hands once more cupping her knees and pushing them against the mattress.
“Good.”
She quaked beneath his stare, his sharp teeth too close as she cringed at the wet creamy sloshing sound of his cock pounding into her.
She had to look away, wanting to twist to hide her face in her pillow and cry until he was done.
But he wouldn’t have that.
“Hey, look at me when I fuck you.”
Gathering her face between his fingers, he scrunched her lips together as his own face closed in, his teeth coming to bite down on the vulnerable pout.
“You’re nothing without me, you understand that?”
One of his hands seized around her throat, adding slight pressure to accommodate his words.
“Good for nothing.” He spit. “Except for being my little slut, right?”
His claws scratched her throat, making her mewl and suck at her bitten bruised lip, tasting the metal.
“Come on, slut, I asked you a fucking question!”
Again, he angled his cock to jut into her painfully, making her gasp in strained pain at the stretch, followed by a sob.
“I’m just a slut-” She sniffled, eyes spiralling when looking into his unforgiving scarlet ones.
He smiled again, kissing her cheek.
“Who’s?”
The kiss became a lick, as he dragged his tongue up her tear-slicked cheek.
“Who’s slut?”
He felt her tremble and stiffen under his tongue, her eye’s squeezing shut.
“Your slut.” She answered, but it proved not to be good enough as another sharp painful thrust hit her core. “Bakugo’s slut.”
She knew it was wrong the second she said it as a growl rumbled against her neck, his teeth gracing, scraping against her tender flesh.
“Katsuki’s slut!”
The words all broken and wet and beautiful coming from her bloated and reddened lips.
He placed a chaste kiss to her jaw, nibbling his way up to her mouth, whispering upon them. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re nothing without me.”
He kissed roughly, growling for her to kiss back, hand still tightly locked around her neck, begging for her to refuse him only for him to squeeze the life out of her.
His tongue pushed into her mouth as he slobbered and drooled above her, mouth sucking on her lips, trailing down her jaw and down her throat, nibbling and biting and lapping at her skin like some hound drooling over steak.
His hand left her throat to grasp her clothed breasts as he hit a particular spot, calling an unintentional bucking of her hips into him, making him groan in pleasure, his own thrusts gaining speed, hitting that same spot he now knew would make her unravel.
“You’re so lucky to get my cock.”
He worked himself into a taller position again, dragging himself off her chest to admire what artwork he’d made of her collar and chest.
“Say you love it.”
She shook her head, a petty begging-look on her face.
It was a weak protest, almost enough to make him let it go, yet still outweighed by his need to make her pay.
His hips suddenly thrusting into her deeply, sharply, in all the ways he’d found out hurt.
She cried out. “No, no, Bakugo, please!” Panicked sobbing, her chest arching in pain, her legs coming to kick him off, yet were stopped as he pushed her knees into her chest. Jutting into her brutally.
“Say you love it and I’ll go slower.”
He saw her knuckles whiten at how hard she was balling her fists, tugging at her bonds desperately.
“I’ll fuck you good.” He promised, finding himself grow excited upon the thought. “Nice and slow like lovers do.” He had to snicker, even as she sobbed and hiccupped up screams that caught in her throat at his sharp thrusts, her eyes screwed tightly shut, allowing no tears to drop yet leaving them swimming in stinging salt.
His head dropped again to her temple, lips nibbling lightly on her cheek bone, his heavy breaths sounding louder than what snapping noise was made between his hips and the softness of her ass.
“Come on…” He drawled an impatient growl into her ear, a rumble that strung another whimper out from her.
More sobs followed, broken in their execution. “I love it… I love it.”
She hadn’t screamed it the way he wanted, but hearing it hang loosely onto her cries, all trembling and weak, was somehow better than what he thought he’d wanted anyway.
He slowed down, enough to lessen the sound of flesh slapping flesh and for the squishy noise of him filling her up again and again to replace it.
“What do you love?”
He made his way to rip open the seams of her shirt on her shoulder, not caring in the moment that she didn’t have a spare uniform to replace it. The shirt gone before she could even answer his question.
“You’re cock, I love you’re cock.” She sobbed, as her bra met with the same fate her shirt had, leaving her in just her little black skirt and one sock remaining, her tits springing loose, bouncing on both her cries and Bakugo’s movements.
“Fuck, good, such an obedient little pet.”
His head fell into the newly presented bare flesh with a moan, heavy panting as he slobbered up the valley between her breasts, palming the soft mounds before twisting the nipples between his fingertips, pulling at them, playing with them, his mouth sucking and biting, teasing the tender sensitivity.
His hands quitting their torment in favor of holding onto each their knee to keep her spread open for him as he rolled deeply into her spot.
“Feels so fucking-” He groaned, not bothering to finish the thought, before another impulse struck him.
His position in having his face buried in her neck and his body laid tight and snug on top of hers moved, making her feel the wisp of a chill coat her as their warm sweat-slicked bodies parted, feeling almost as though they were glued together as he pulled away, cock still being kept warm inside the comfort of her walls.
His hands came up to fickle with the knot that kept her hands locked above her head, his fingers sloppily tugging to loosen the tie, before gripping her hips tightly in a fashion meant to make sure she understood that despite being loose she was far from actually free.
Lifting her up of the spot she’d sunk into on the mattress and on to straddling his torso, his feet hitting the ground with a dunk with her propped up on his thighs, every little movement of his adjusting making his cock poke and message into other new dangerous places, places too tight to be attacked in whichever reckless unthoughtful way Bakugo saw fit.
Fingers running, or rather digging into her skin and making way to rake up her sides, grabbing and clinging to her midriff to pull her close, with his thighs beginning to impatiently move in a boyish manor to satiate the need for friction his member craved.
One arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand made to grab her chin, allowing him to look over her, again tempted to bite into those lushes red lips, all bloated and made for his teeth to gnaw on. Yet, his mouth made way to her neck instead, licking up her throat, sucking on the thin skin, wanting to make his mark flourish in red explosions all over her.
“Be a good quirkless slut and bounce on my cock, make yourself useful for once.”
His knees jolted upwards making her hop, followed by his cock sinking deeper into her.
Her hands held uncertainly mid-air made to grip his shoulders at the further intrusion, biting back another cry, however unable to keep the sobbing sigh from rupturing her throat.
However, she wasn’t given long to recover as his hand came down to plant a red-hot slap on her ass, making her jump on her own.
“Come on, don’t be shy.”
She started moving, unsure of what or which way to do it, finding the rhythm of rocking her hips forward after a while, earning a disgusting sigh of satisfaction from the blonde holding a bruising grip on her.
“That’s right...”
His arm moving to hold a death-grip on her waist, thumb digging into the underside of her ribs, poking each time she lolled forward and at the same time threatened her to stop.
His other hand came to grip her face again, stiff lips crashing against teary lips. Sucking her face as though stealing her life-source, only breaking between breaths to announce cocky cruel comments and instructions.
“Stay right there, slut.” A thrust from his hips accompanied the nickname, making her wince and lurch forward into him. “Aww that’s cute.”
Both his hands went under her skirt to grab at her ass, lifting her up only to sleeve himself inside her once again.
“Does that feel good? Huh? Right there?”
Another slap and she rested even harder against his chest, trying to find comfort in the pitch black her screwed-shut eyes left her in, yet the overwhelming scent of caramel wasn’t easily ignored, and neither was how perfectly his cock sunk into her.
His hands fingered the fabric of her skirt as he bumped into her from beneath. Tugging on the textile until ripping it off, the action earning her gasp as she was now wearing nothing but her one sock, the skirt having provided as some false sense of coverage.
“Is the slut enjoying herself?” He mocked, a salacious grin constantly spreading on his face between moans and grunts.
She shook her head, the urge to fight herself to freedom awakening yet again as her hands moved to push at his chest.
“No… stop.”
But her back was supported, or rather steadied, with Bakugo’s large palm, little sparking ignitions gaining control of her struggles quickly, the fight leaving her body with a whimper of defeat, just as quickly as it had arrived.
Another sharp thrust ripped a strangled moan from her and he grinned.
“Liar.” He snickered. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little slut 'cause that's the only thing you know how not to fuck up, only thing your whore mom ever taught you.”
Forcing her hips to roll faster, the slick coated their thighs as her tits bounced for him.
“Does she share this bed with both you and her crackhead fuck-friends?”
He couldn’t defend his need to make her cringe in his arms, why he wanted to see her ashamed, why he wanted her crying into him.
“Such a freak. Are you gonna cum on the same sheets your mom sleeps on?”
Sharp fingers dug into her cheeks again, all because he wanted to be entertained by the show of her breaking.
He pulled her hips closer, fighting to hit that spot that had her mewling earlier, wanting to hear her mewl again, wanting to prove his point.
Once he found it she fell flush against him, melting in his hands, soft-spoken moans falling like drool down her chin.
“Like that, right there?” His words fell hot on her lips as his thumb pushed into her mouth and down onto her tongue, holding her chin in place.
Her eyes crossed then upon his cock nudging in just the right way against her cervix, as well as her brows drawing up into a pretty eruption.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groaned, clutching tighter onto her hip, rocking her forward to meet his thrusts. “Are you gonna cum on my cock, huh?”
With his thumb still dipped into her mouth, she tried her best to retort.
“No…”
It couldn’t be referred to as defiance as it was too pitiful to be called that.
“Yes, you are.”
He sucked on her collarbone, making his way up by kissing a trail of slobbering kisses and bites to her ear.
With his hips still angled just right, his thumb left her mouth to grip her other hip.
He could feel her tight little pussy start to convulse around his shaft, small flutters that squeezed him tightly, milking him.
She hated that she wanted to spill over so badly. The surging swimming boiling buzz constantly teased by Katsuki’s plush cockhead pushing and poking and jabbing at her cervix again and again.
She felt it coming, the snapping, breaking, splitting, the building coming close to bursting, yet she was reminded of who she was with in her reach for bliss and found herself regretting chasing it.
“No, no, not with him, not with him, not-”
It was too late as she tried holding it back, tried grasping it as hard as she was clamping down on his cock, as hard as she was digging her nails into his shoulders.
The movements of his hips slowed down.
“There you go. Feel good, slut?” He mocked as her body spasmed, skin freezing over under his touch, feeling disgusted, skin-crawlingly disgusted with herself and how she was unable to control the continuous spasms that seemed to ricochet through her spontaneously. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”
His speed picked up again, humping into her, making her ride through her orgasm, feeling the almost painful ticklish pressure build again upon each time he bottomed-out ruthlessly inside the comfort of her wet walls.
“No, Bakugo stop, stop!” Her pleads weren’t met.
“Is it too much?” He laughed, gathering a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck in order to make her look up at him, making her wince as he spit his words into her face. “Mommy didn't do too good a job at raising her slut, I see. Can't even handle cumming without crying." He jeered, mock pouting at her with his forehead pressed into hers, blood-soaked orbs forcing eye-contact from her wide tear-stained ones as she whimpered. "Aw, is my cock too much for the little whore?”
“Yes, stop!” She couldn't care less if she was answering some cruel nickname , the painful pressure assaulted inside her was something too vehement she needed to make relent, but yet again was her plead answered with a lack of mercy in an eerie whisper and nothing more.
“I’m not finished yet.”
All she could do was beg for him to finish… so that’s what she did.
“Please...”
He gathered her face in his hand again, fingers squishing into her cheeks hurtfully as he made to sneer into her face.
“Please what? Please fuck your whore cunt harder? Please make you cum again?”
Even as he snickered and mocked, his cock twitched at the sight of her.
Eyes all puffy and swimming in her own tears, eyebrows knitted together, begging for mercy.
Completely and literally held in the palm of his hand, yet her gaze still managing to make him feel fuzzy with the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.
“Oh fuck, say you love me.”
Cold dread made up most of her body, what else was the rising crippling shameful feeling of something sweet knotting up somewhere in her lower abdomen again, this time harder than before as her already abused high was continuously pocked by Katsuki’s swollen cockhead kissing her cervix harshly again and again and again, driving her insane. And all of it made his demand impossible to answer, impossible to even comprehend.
Yet, she was in no position to refuse with her face held up between his fingertips and his crimson eyes boring holes straight into her terror-wide heart.
“Say you love me or I’ll cum inside you.” His voice lacking all she considered still human. Not a hint of remorse or guilt or shame or pity.
She gulped on her breaths, yet managed to voice the words. “I love you, Katsuki.”
Her eyes now unable to look away from him. Even as he picked up the painful pace, stabbing at her core, in places she had no former knowledge of, places the length of her fingers could never even as much as dream of reaching.
“Fuck.” A boyish virginal whimper laced the moan that escaped him at her words, satisfaction easing the raging and crazed look on his face. “I love you too.”
His toes curled painfully, cold and numb against the floorboards.
“I love you.”
Hands warm and sliding against dewy and doughy flesh.
"I love you."
Something pulling, straining, building to burst was chasing release, sending spasms to shoot through his shaft.
"I love you."
He knew what was coming. He knew it would be better than ever.
“We’ll get you a pill later, ‘kay?”
The guilt was washed over with the promise of painting her walls.
“It’s fine.” He tried reassuring as he felt her revolt in his arms, all her strength fighting to get off him, yet was no match against the force of his hands holding onto her, and his need to explode inside.
She resulted to begging instead. “No, no, Katsuki stop, don’t, please!”
Feeling her hope being crushed in his palm, picturing his laughing face as she turned her vision to black, his feral smile like supersonic light, dangerous and deadly and made to rip throats out.
And then it was done, she felt the last thrust like the last blow through her gut.
Cream filling her up, smearing between their thighs, Katsuki’s head resting on her shoulder with his hands holding onto her hips, fingers marking their presence into her back yet softening their grip with each of his panting breaths landing on her breasts.
Her blood ran cold through stiff veins, as though she were dead. Her skin crawling, as though rotting with mites.
Sickness.
Sickness in her lungs, in her throat, building, climbing up her pipes.
She slung herself off in a hurry, and with Katsuki coming down from whatever sick high he was riding, he wasn’t alert enough to catch her, which was probably a good thing because after her staggering her way to the bathroom, feeling his cum and her wetness leak out of her and drip along the inside of her thighs, she only barely made it in time to open the toilet compartment, get to her knees in the small space and haul her guts out into the small stained bowl.
Feeling like her mother, each time she came home all sweaty, mascara smeared with tears on her face like a garbage racoon, sticking her fingers down her throat and gagging until she collapsed on the floor, face laid in her own puke.
She heard Katsuki’s heavy footsteps, one and two before his hand met with her neck. Collecting her hair in a ponytail in his grip with the other hand encompassing her naked back.
She was afraid he was going to pull her up, expecting her scalp to soon scream in protest at the feel of her hairs being ripped up from their roots.
Yet, as she awaited the torture… all she felt was the slow stroking of carefully placed paths running up her spine and then down to the small of her back in a manor either meant to be comforting or patronizing, with her hair being kept away from her face as she retched on repeat.
It was mostly just water and acid, and Katsuki made a mental note to make her eat later as he helped her up with his hands under her arms, supporting her when seeing how her shivering rendered her knees too weak to stand on her own, lifting her up on a tiny counter which would have been impossible for him if he were to try and sit on it, yet seemed the perfect size for her.
The ruff base of his thumb brushed the spit from the corner of her mouth, her large eyes meeting his own as he leaned in, soft weak hands only barely pushing against his chest in an act to stop him, but his lips pushed onto her anyway.
Parting with a string of silver connecting them, and he couldn’t help but fall prey to how beautiful she was even in her broken ugliness, how prettily her eyes fluttered with sticky eyelashes clutching together as though hugging for comfort, stray wisps of hair dancing in front of her face. Her wet breaths, sobbing breaths, hiccupping breaths, trembling past those soft pillow-y and blossomed lips, plump and full and bitable, or huffed through her nose, sniveling and sniffing and so very unfairly precious.
His thumb stroked over those lips, watching them quiver.
He took time admiring her, feeling her cold fingertips vibrate against his chest, wondering if she could feel how hard his heart was hammering inside his ribcage with how much she was shaking. Wondering if she knew just how much he’d wanted this, how long he’d wanted this, how despite him ignoring her cries, that she understood how this wasn’t in vain, how he wasn’t just doing this because he could, that he was doing this because he needed to, that he wasn’t doing this because he hated her but because he loved her, loved her too much to let her simply slip from between his fingers again.
His fingers latched onto the band of her sock, pulling it down and off at her toes, finally leaving her completely bare.
“Let’s get you in the shower.”
He moved to pick her up, uncaring of her newly sparked urge to fight him.
“No, Katsuki…”
She tried pushing, she tried making him stop despite everything being slippery and sticky and gross. The want to cry herself to sleep knowing and finding some comfort in the fact that Katsuki was done with her and long gone outweighed the want to get clean.
“The water’s cold, you won’t like it.” She argued in a weak attempt to sway him from the idea, yet knowing full well that he didn’t care.
“Come on…” He drawled as he caught her bothersome fists by the wrists in his massive hands. “We’ll take a shower and then we’ll go get your pill…”
He fought to find eye-contact.
“We both know you don’t have the money for it anyway…”
Typical of him to mention her situation. Typical of him to use it against her. And though it was typical, though it was predictable, it still made her heart clench, her soul twist, her spirit crumble.
He swore he saw something start to break in her eyes, wanting to deliver the final blow to snuff out whatever fight she still had left.
He leaned in more, his nose brushing against hers.
“You need me.”
Her struggles stopped at that, Katsuki wrapping her legs around his back to support her as he carried her to the shower. Her cheek resting on his shoulder, completely deflated.
It wasn’t at all as in the movies. Sweet couples who help wash each other’s hair, warm bodies gliding against one another, soft perfect handprints printed on the dewy glass.
She hadn’t been lying, the water was freezing as the showerhead spritzed the water down on them with a force close to that of aching.
They didn’t both fit in the crammed space either, Katsuki was sure that even him alone wouldn’t fit in the tight space, where he was left to have one foot on the floorboards outside the door, water rushing into the hallway, running down his leg, but he didn't care.
His frame blocked the door completely, allowing her no shape or form of exit as he made her stand there, under the showerhead, hair slicking to her neck and nipples perking into hardness under the freeze, goosebumps strutted and coated her flesh from head to toe, her cheeks and lips blossomed with a purple hue, her eyes closed, head dipped in discomfort or shame or embarrassment or sorrow or a bit of everything and even more.
Her body trembled beneath his warm hands, as they cupped her breasts, palming them and playing and pinching with her back hunching in a weak effort to get her discomfort across, despite knowing how he didn’t care, with the fact having been proven time and time again.
His warm calloused fingertips brushed down her abdomen, eyes stark and loud as they looked at her body, thinking of how unblemished and beautiful her skin was as opposed to him, no roughness or ugly greenish bruises, just milky smooth and rosy suppleness and all his.
His hand traveled further, causing her small ones to reach out and grip around his wrist, both hands giving their best effort at trying to stop him. Though his other hand was quick to wrap around her throat and extract a sweet gasp with the movement.
Her hands removed their pressure yet remained on him as he brushed featherlight touches over the sensitiveness of her sex, fingertips dipping into her folds, slithering in the slick velvet of his cum mixed with her wetness.
A sob ricocheted through her as her toes curled, fingers bending and nailing into his wrist. Still, he continued. Fingers pushing inside, pumped knuckle-deep inside the puffy spongey walls, reaching deep before scissoring, making her knees bend, yet kept from falling by the hand around her neck keeping her up like a noose as he curled the two digits.
Her eyes avoided his, looking down at his limp cock who somehow seemed just as intimidating as before, like a sleeping beast ready to wake at any second.
Yet, as much as he played with her sex, his own remained still.
He picked her up again as he saw more of her skin going purple, not really wanting her to get sick, just refreshed.
Water flooded on the soft-with-mould floorboards in the tight hallway as her feet dragged against the walls when he yet again carried her to the bed. And as much as she wanted to fight as he placed her dripping body down onto the sheets, she couldn’t find the energy. Tears, however, still managed to drip down her face, unhurriedly gliding down her cheeks, warm in stark contrast amidst the freezing shower-water.
“Do you wanna hear something really fucked up?”
It was rhetorical, but he wouldn’t have gotten an answer either way.
“I used to be jealous of your crack-whore mother…”
Her face cringed, confused yet still not desiring to know what he meant.
“Fuck, I’m still jealous when you come to school and I see that there's somebody else who makes you cry harder than me.”
She had to swallow in order not to gulp.
“You’re sick.”
Those were the wrong words, for as quickly as they entered the air, he was once again on top of her, squeezing the breath from out of her lungs.
“I’m sick?” He questioned, fingers plunging inside her, a forced moan ripped from her throat. “You’re the one cumming and creaming and squirting all over my cock while crying.” He bit out while starting to pump into her cruelly, finding it easier now as she was already wet from before. “Telling me you love it, telling me you love me.” He laughed as he sneered. “Who would’ve known what a slut you are. So desperate you let your own bully fuck you like this. You fucking whore.”
His pushed his thumb into her clit cruelly, a sadistic smile on his face as she struggled.
“Stop, shut up, shut up!” Her palms made to push at his hard chest, yet was weakened as she felt the burning sweetness start to pool were his fingers poked.
“You don’t like that nickname? No? Aww, that’s fine.” He hissed, then scoffed. “It’s not true anyway...” He muttered beneath his breath, trying to find what sweet spot his fingers could reach as so to have her unravel beneath him again, wanting to lick the sin from her expression, wanting to bathe in his victory of making her his. “How did it feel to have my cock balls deep inside your precious little virgin innocent cunt, huh? Better yet, how does it feel to know how I am your first? First to kiss you, first to fuck you, first to make you cum.”
“Fuck you.”
Any remnants of strength was now spent on those last words, as the rest was spared to support her oncoming orgasm, the one she could feel clawing, sucking all senses up as though preparing for an implosion.
“That’s right…” He whispered. “Fuck me. Your first and your last.”
His ominous tone had her guts churning, which in some sick sense only added to the pooling dam that was about to snap inside her, but she kept her eyes wide, further digging into what his words meant, wondering if this would be her last day on earth, wondering if Bakugo would be the last person she'd ever see, ever feel, ever touch.
“You look like I’m gonna kill you.” He observed as he curled his fingers once again, making her hips buckle into his hand, which in turn made him grin. “Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you…”
His head dipped so that he could nibble at her neck, lick up the tender flesh with his fingers pumping in and out of her, coated in slick, collecting and drenching in his palm.
“I’m just gonna make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again…”
She couldn’t explain why the growl in his voice had her abdomen doing flips.
“Including that fuckface slut you call a mother.”
His fingers scissored, her back arching as she moaned.
“You’ll be lucky I even let you graduate.”
She couldn’t quite catch what he was saying anymore, just the lilt in his tone which had her falling apart beneath him, the walls of her pussy fluttering in pleasure.
“People go missing all the time.”
Her toes curled and she braced herself.
“That way I can have you all for myself.”
His warm lips pressed against her neck, his growls reverberating on her skin.
“All mine.”
His fingers poked at something that was about to burst and as she wanted to climb further up on the bed to escape it, she also wanted him to follow.
“Where you belong.”
And there it was, body melting into the mattress, all shame obsolete in those seconds.
Unable to see him lick her orgasm off his fingers as her eyes had crossed and traveled way too far into the back of her skull.
Unable to prepare for his kiss as her mouth hung open, soft feeble moans cut loose into the air, captured by Bakugo’s mouth.
She didn’t catch the second he stopped kissing her, nor did she catch the moment he got off the bed.
She must have fallen asleep for a short while because when she opened her eyes again Bakugo was dressed, rummaging through cabinets containing worn out clothes and things like it, seeming displeased with most of what he found.
She looked to her side, where placed on the bed was a towel, fresh underwear and a bra.
She motioned for the towel first, feeling the shameful wet stickiness between her thighs, hurriedly wiping it clean before putting on her garments, looking up to see Bakugo staring at her, having found something suitable to dress her in.
“Put this on.”
She didn’t bother looking at what he’d so graciously offered her of her own clothes.
Her eyes narrowed at him instead.
“I don’t want your help.” She sneered, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest as so to hide herself from his piercing gaze.
His fingertips were quick in clutching her cheeks, raking them into her skin as he turned her head back to look at him.
“Too bad, you need it.”
The fabric was cast at her lap unceremoniously, the soft silky feel cold against her bare thighs.
“Put it on.” The growl was followed by him removing his hand with a push.
She huffed before looking down at the presented article, wondering what Bakugo wanted to dress her up in, her lips forming a disgusted snarl.
“It’s my mother’s.”
The yellow summer-dress, flowy and frilly in texture, something she’d never wear, something Bakugo knew well she would never wear.
“It’d go to waste on her.”
This made her look up, curiosity or maybe even a form of flattery evident in the curl between her brows.
The sudden eye-contact catching Bakugo off guard as he’d shared the uncharacteristically tender opinion of the girl out loud.
He scoffed, crimson eyes darkening in an attempt to hide the building flustered panic, masking it with a growl instead.
“Put it on, I won’t ask again.”
She fingered the fabric for a while longer before treading it on over her head, letting the skirt dress her thighs with a featherlight fall.
Looking like a spring-daydream, not at all as though she’d just lived through a nightmare.
With her drying hair falling in messy curled tousles down her shoulders, Bakugo reached out a hand to fasten the small wispy strands coming to tickle her forehead behind her ear, grabbing her wrists in favor of her hand when he pulled her up.
“Let’s go. I can’t stand this shithole.”
Wondering if he should have said that he couldn’t stand her in that shithole instead.
TIP-JAR
PART ONE
#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere bakugo#yandere katsuki#yandere katsuki bakugou#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere bnha#yandere katsuki x reader#katsuki#bakugou katsuki#Katsuki Bakugō#bakugou x reader#mha bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugo#katsuki bakugo imagine#katsuki bakugo x reader#yandere mha#yandere my hero academia#bully bakugo#bully katsuki#bully!bakugo#bully!katsuki#sadistic bakugo#sadistic katsuki
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I Can’t Fight This Feeling
Inspired by this
Chapter 1
Ladybug only paused momentarily as she ran. If you weren’t watching carefully, you would miss it entirely. And nobody in Paris was, their attention too focused on the ongoing akuma battle and avoiding becoming collateral damage to pay attention to Ladybug swinging away from the battle. Or rather, nobody but one persistent prowler, whose focus was and had been entirely on Ladybug.
She threw out her yoyo, attempting to get as much distance as she could in her swing. “Our shadow is back. And they’re fast and good. They’re keeping up with me. Not sure I’m going to be able to outrun them,” she commented quietly, trusting her com to pick it up. She paused for a second before giving an affirmative hum. “Just you, Rena. Chat, you stay with the akuma. We don’t know what this thing is. I don’t want to pull both of you off the akuma if we don’t have to. It’s causing too much damage to leave unattended. But, I’m almost out of time, so there’s a timer on this.”
She swung, ran, and jumped at top speed for another minute before she ducked behind a chimney and hid in an alcove. The shadow would have to be extremely good to be able to trail her, or have magic of their own, both of which were definitely options. They had been able to keep up with her for the most part and observe them in fights mostly unobserved, which no matter how well the general public and reporters thought they were, they weren’t.
But this person, whoever they were, was that good. The only reason she knew about them was because Sabrina had joined them using Barkk for only the second time, the first time being seen by the public, so she’d been able to detect them observing from the shadows. What Sabrina hadn’t been sure of was how dangerous they were. Thus far they had only observed the miraculous team, they hadn’t made any moves.
But, it appeared they were tired of waiting and she was about to find out how good they were first hand, because he was, in fact, extremely good or magic. She could hear him land on the other side of the roof. His landing may have been almost soundless, but he clearly wasn’t magic, because she could still hear it. She gripped her yoyo and tensed in preparation. She crouched down and waited until he came into view before striking. Luckily, he had expected her to try to attack from above so he had been looking above and missed her, giving her the fraction of a second she needed to get her yoyo out and wrapped around him.
Unfortunately, he seemed to be able to react quicker than a normal human and was able to avoid the brunt of the string. It wrapped around his arm instead of his body. Ladybug hesitated a fraction of a second. She didn’t want to pull too hard. If he was human, which despite the quick reaction time, he appeared to be, pulling too hard could cause irreparable damage. Damage she wasn’t sure if the miraculous ladybugs would repair since it wasn’t really akuma related.
He reacted immediately. He wrapped his arm around the string again and pulled. Ladybug fell off balance and sprawled forward. He reached out to grab her, but she twisted out of his reach. The advantage of being so clumsy all her life, she knew how to direct her falls. She pulled her string back as she fell. It instantly detached from his arm and curled back to her. Ladybug rolled out of the way of the boot that descended with a resounding thud where her head had been a few seconds earlier, leaving a slight dent in the roof where it landed.
Ladybug jumped up and backed away from him, twirling her yoyo by her waist as she scrutinized her opponent. He was large. He would give her dad a run for his money, but she seriously doubted he was as soft and gooey as her father. His outfit flowed around him, but clung enough for her to tell that he had more muscle strength in one leg than she did in her whole unsuited body. He moved with grace and confidence that spoke of elite training and skills. One thing was for certain. He was definitely a threat.
“No words?” Ladybug taunted as she jumped up. “I mean, I can tell you’re not an akuma or you would have demanded my miraculous already. But not even a villain’s dialogue explaining why you’re doing it and your justification?” The Shadow stared back at her, easing into an attack position. “That’s fine. I can work with that.” She ran at him straight on. He swung at her, but she veered at the last second and dropped to her knees, sliding past him. She twisted as she slid. Now facing him, she threw out her yoyo, binding his feet, and pulled. He fell to the ground with a resounding thud.
She was running out of time. She had maybe a minute left. Not nearly enough time to immobilize someone with his level of skills. Her eyes darted around, searching for anything that could help her formalize a plan. He took that moment to launch at her. He dived at her midsection, which was insulting quite frankly, that he thought she could be captured so easily and with his feet still bound. She realized too late, she wasn’t his target. He held up her yoyo, shaking it slightly for her to see and releasing his feet. He tossed it over the side of the building and launched at her again in the same movement.
She flipped over him, pulling his hood off as she did. She landed immediately behind him and kicked her leg out to sweep his legs out from under him. He jumped to miss her leg, but with his balance already off due to his earlier move he stumbled and crashed into the ground. He turned to glare at her. Ladybug gasped. He couldn’t be much older than her, if at all. He took advantage of her momentary pause to launch a volley of hits at her. She blocked them, but was having a hard time keeping up with the attack. She was trying not to hurt him, but he was showing no such compunction. She just had to hold out until Rena could get to her.
She backed away from him, creating necessary distance between them. She needed to distract him. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. “Strong silent type, huh?” She arched an eyebrow at him and channeled her best Thor with a cocky grin. “I’ve fought stronger.”
“Not without your magic,” he answered calmly. It was the first time she’d heard his voice. It was deep and gravely, it didn’t match the young features, but it did match the harsh eyes.
And now she knew his plan. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take her on while she was transformed and he knew she was running out of time. He was running her out of time. He was banking on his skill to overwhelm her civilian self, and with the training he had, he was right. “Are you sure,” she asked as confidently as she could, plastering on a confident smirk.
He studied her for a few seconds before responding. “I’ll take my chances.”
She flicked her eyes to the horizon, diverting her attention. It was a stupid mistake, one she knew better than to make, but she was getting desperate for backup. The shadow grabbed her and pulled her closer to knee her in the ribs. She managed to block the hit with her own knee, lessening the impact, which was still enough that if she hadn’t been wearing a suit, her femur would have shattered. With the same momentum, she leaned forward and kicked over her head, catching him in the face.
He loosened his grip just enough for her to break his grip and jump away, but he jumped forward as well and sent another volley of attacks at her. She gasped as she felt the familiar sensation of her suit melting away as she detransformed. She braced for the pain of impact his fist would have with her face from the punch he just threw. After a second, she opened one eye to see what he was doing. His fist hovered less than an inch from her face, his eyes scanned her incredulously. “You’re a kid.”
She looked from his fist to his eyes. She took a beat to assess the situation and try to slow her wildly beating heart. “You look like you’re the same age as me,” she said pointedly. Was it her smartest move, sass instead of caution? No, but it was the one that felt right. And until she had a better idea what was going on, it was the one she was going with.
He stared at her unmoving for a few beats. “You’ve been doing this for years. It’s been you since the beginning, right?” Her narrowed eyes and pursed lips were answer enough. He lowered his fist and backed away a few steps. Still close enough to react, but giving some distance. “Fuck. You were a baby when you started. I’ve seen video of you dying. Why would you choose that? Who made you think you had to? You should have gotten to have a childhood.”
His voice was harsh and accusatory and it grated on her. He was attacking her and he was mad at her for… being attacked? She scowled at him. “I’m sorry, were you going to fight the akumas? Because it seems like your priorities might be incompatible and somebody had to protect the people of Paris, try to defend the children of Paris. And you’re awfully the same age as me for someone so judgmental of my age.”
“How about an adult instead of a kid?” he yelled back at her. He let out a long, angry breath. “And where is your mentor? There’s a Guardian, right? I’ve studied your fights and never saw an adult. Why isn’t your mentor out here fighting with you? What kind of depraved asshole just gives a few self-defense classes then sends them out on their own?”
Marinette scoffed before she realized what she was doing. She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked back up at him wide-eyed. “You have a mentor, right?” he growled as he stalked closer to her with each word. “One that taught you how to fight? One watching out for you?”
“You’ve spent the last few weeks stalking me so you could attack, and I’m guessing, put me in the grave. Why do you care?” she growled at him.
“Who is protecting you?” he yelled at her. Her continued silence seemed to confirm something for him. She was pretty sure now that the fury in his eyes was not directed toward her, which was… odd. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Marinette backed away from him slowly and nodded to Tikki to grab a cookie from her bag.
Her eyes searched the skyline for any sign of Rena. She was sure Rena would be here any second. She just needed to last another few seconds. If Rena couldn’t make it, maybe she could transform in time to save herself. And then deal with a hostile knowing her identity. But that was a problem for later. The problem for now was surviving the Shadow, recharge Tikki, and defeat the akuma.
His head whipped to the side as a movement caught his attention. A figure in orange was making their way over to them rapidly. They only had a few seconds before the figure would join them. He hissed out a breath and backed away from her. He gave her one last glare and jumped off the side of the building.
Chapter 2
@jasonette-july-event
#maribat#jasonette#Jasonette July#Jasonette July 2021#prompt - grave#it's there if you squint#Enemies to is anyone going to protect this person damn it fine I’ll do it myself to strangers to seriously nobody going to protect her to#why are you looking at me like that to lovers
175 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
robialamin
Al Amin
ramifonverg
Rami fon Verg
kaddencefire
KaddenceFire's Official Tumblr
employmentupdates
Jobs Results