#made my little goblin brain tingle

[samsspambox]

sorry to the person i was assigned in the ficathon you're getting the full force of the marius & artem brain rot i've been having and continue to have <3

#the prompt is so good??? #made my little goblin brain tingle #def not what i'm used to writing but LETS GOOOO #i also think i might go over the word count limits but #tHE CONCEPT... IT NEEDS TO BE EXPLORED #sam rambles #no context just write #am i intentionally throwing u off my trail yes #i love a good mystery hehehe

[papermonkeyism]

Brain still fixating on the cat people and the old sky pirate setting.

Since I haven't been actively working on the setting for so long, I just now realize it's kinda... Patchy.

It's gone through nearly two decades worth of occasionally getting dug up, being poked a little, and then getting shoved back to the bin (that for many, many times was supposed to be the trash, but this thing keeps popping up again and again regardless of how many times I've tried to get rid of it).

I've recycled bits of it to other headworlds. Stuffed many other things into it from many, many other dead headworlds. And some things originally in it I've just plain grown out of.

Like, there used to be three different kinds of wolf people. (spot the wolfaboo) There were the traditional anthro wolves, then there were, like, werewolves, who were people but with wolf ears and tails, who had psychic connection to these dire wolf thingies. Of course the ship's crew had one of each three.

And then! Oh geese. There were these panther anthro thingies that were legit "evil race". I remember being sorta proud of finally having made up an evil race, because all legit fantasy novels had evil races, and I wanted to be a legit fantasy author, but I just kept failing at making up evil-for-the-sake-of-evil people for my stories. Didn't take me long after that to figure out why that didn't work. (I've been upset at the concept of evil races ever since.)

None of those races are canon anymore.

... Which means there are empty niches to fill, and my worldbuilding senses are tingling!

The two races I've kept from the original (though tweaked) are the "humans" (I just can't think of Devoran the captain as anything else), and the winged people (flying ships, flying people).

Other race tropes that have been more constant are "short, climby people", who have variably been some kind of monkies, goblins, small dinosaury things, and which I think are now the cat people.

And one race that isn't humanoid. Usually they've been either dinosaurs (surprise) or some centaur type thingies. Those might be fun to design...

And... Should I? Do I really need another active headworld? Is my brain going to care?

Gonna need some sledgehammering, though.

#Bloodbride #shut up paper

[wannabetwins]

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much... before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. "Maybe it's a lint mutation!" Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin.... The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

Despite the sting of the heat, his fingertips pressed into the ceramic mug in a last attempt to keep his composure. But it was too late. He had reached the end of his tether, and his brain was beginning to tatter.

“Hey, clean freak,” Yooha’s usually unwelcomed voice slashed through the muddled swirl of Taehee’s angry thoughts. The latter looked up, finding the fox waving his open palm in front of him. “What’s with that face?”

“What?” Taehee rasped, brows furrowing in annoyance. He could already sense the stupid comment on his upturned lips.

“Usually, when you drink your coffee, you turn all pensive—like an old man,” Yooha shrugged. He took a casual sip of his wine. What lunatic even drank this early? “But you looked really pissed just now.”

Taehee blew out a sharp huff. If this fox knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. Anger was coursing through his veins and Taehee had been wound up too tight; he was this close to snapping.

“Oi. Kim Taehee. You okay? Why aren’t you—”

“I can’t...” Taehee mumbled through his gritted teeth.

“—drinking your coffee?”

“I CAN’T!”

Taehee’s shout echoed in the empty living room, and for the first time Yooha actually looked a little scared of him. The fox’s speechlessness made an awkward silence settle between the two as Taehee mentally berated himself for losing control over his temper like that. He had to stay calm. Be calm. Calm...

“Woah… yeah you’re definitely not okay. Wanna talk about it?”

The sound of Yooha’s voice ignited yet another spark of rage within him, and before he could do something else he would regret, Taehee grabbed his cup and emptied its tainted contents into the sink.

Yooha gaped at him expectantly, though a trace of awe and fear were still visible between his furrowed brows. He probably thought Taehee was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Oh, God...Taehee hoped he didn’t go into one of his rambles praising his own wisdom guised as shoddy advice. Not now.

However, the goblin was saved from such torture by the soft pad of footsteps down the stairs.

“What’s going on? I heard yelling.”

MC’s voice drifted from the stairs, and soon she came into view, bed head still fresh and her eyes smaller than usual, groggy with sleep. Taehee’s heart gave a small leap in response. As usual.

And apparently, it wasn’t alone.

The fox perked up, sitting straighter in his seat and his previously lazy demeanor turning almost puppy-like.

“Ah, MC,” he said, a grin now stretching across his lips. Taehee barely held back his own smile at her presence which now whittled away at his annoyance. “Good morning! Did you dream of me?”

Taehee rolled his eyes at Yooha’s unnecessary wink. MC was equally unamused, tired as she was, though she did spare him a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure did,” she replied with a brief smile, before her attention turned to Taehee. It was strange how easily she could calm him down. Just one look from her and he felt his breathing start to slow down, and the angry, scrambled thoughts in his mind began to scatter. All that was left was a pounding in his chest as he met her concerned stare.

“Is… everything okay?”

With practised ease, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile, erasing any and all traces of irritation from his face. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” Yooha snorted. “This guy nearly had an aneurysm.”

“What?” MC said, her gaze once again snapping towards the goblin. His cheeks heated under the sudden scrutiny.

Feeling slightly embarrassed now at the reason behind his outburst, he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no,” he stammered. “I’m really fine. I’m just… feeling off this morning.”

The girl seemed unconvinced. Her eyes drifted to the dumped coffee in the sink, and Taehee could practically see the calculations behind her forehead.

Abruptly, MC turned to the fox. “Yooha,” she began, startling when he suddenly transported behind her back.

Taehee’s skin tingled when the man slid his arms around her waist.

“Yes, MC?” Yooha hummed.

She promptly swatted his hands away. Taehee smirked in amusement...or maybe triumph.

“Did you make him mad again?” she went on.

Yooha stumbled back in offense, hand over his chest. Dramatic…

“What? No!”

MC crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she flayed him with a hard, interrogative stare.

Yooha let out a sharp sigh. “I didn’t! Really!”

He glanced at Taehee, no doubt to clear his name. The latter pursed his lips. Should he clear the air? Technically, Yooha did add to his frustration. His presence alone could sour Taehee’s mood considerably any day, and especially today.

In the span of silence he took to think, MC seemed to interpret it as a confirmation of Yooha’s guilt, and his sentence was passed immediately.

“Go on, apologise to Taehee. You two should make up and at least try to get along.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Yooha argued, genuinely looking quite upset now. Even MC seemed to be surprised by his reaction.

“Master, you don’t believe me? That’s hurtful…”

And then it happened.

Like a snake, his nine tails unfurled behind him one after another, practically glowing with the blindingly white sheen of his fur.

White. Fur.

The answer had been right in front of him the whole time, the source of his nightmares for the past week right under his nose and Taehee hadn’t so much as noticed.

He should’ve known. Ever since that stupid fox materialized from that scroll, nothing and no one else in this house rattled him as much as he could.

And at this very moment, he was downright pissed.

He hadn’t even realized his outstretched hand. His tense fingers were bent into a claw, ready to strangle one of the nine hydras sweeping through the air, further tainting the cleanliness of the house with those loose strands of white.

Rage coursed through his veins, and somehow, his magic followed suit with blue fire flaring into the center of his palm. Taehee hadn’t meant to move his hand any closer to the infuriating white fur. But his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, and little by little, those flames licked perilously close to the thin strands until…

“OW!!”

Taehee recoiled as the sharp sound pierced his ears, his anger subsiding enough for him to return to the present moment. He saw MC’s reaction first. Her eyes were wide in shock, and her mouth was frozen in a perfect “o.”

When his gaze fell on the fox again, the tails had vanished. Yooha was storming over to him, anger etched on his usually laidback face. He looked feral.

“Did you seriously just try to burn my tails? Kim Taehee!”

Taehee knew he should apologise. Clearly he was in the wrong here. But his mouth began flapping, retorts bubbling in his throat, unable to restrain himself in front of the fox. Especially when he was the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

“Would you prefer for me to shave them clean instead? Since you’re shedding anyway.”

“You-” Yooha’s voice cut off, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Me? Shedding? What do you think I am? A common dog?”

“No,” Taehee returned with more composure than he felt. “Dogs are more likeable.”

“Why, you—” Yooha began, though he stopped himself again. His fist was balled tightly at his side, but he seemed to have enough restraint to keep it there. A tense breath wisped from his lips. “Look, you’re having a bad morning. I get it. But just because MC likes my tails more than you doesn’t mean you can abuse your magic fire trick.”

Several unintelligible syllables spluttered from Taehee’s mouth.

Words...he needed to use words.

“MC doesn’t— Fire trick? You don’t—”

No, no… sentences. He needed sentences. But his brain was too muddled with his emotions, and that stupid simper on the fox’s face was only making it worse.

“Or maybe… If you wanted to touch my tail so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Taehee was about to open his mouth again when MC’s face appeared in his line of sight, blocking the fox from his view.

“Enough, both of you. It’s too early in the morning for this, let’s just stop here, okay?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who resorted to violence,” Yooha added stubbornly, shooting a glare in Taehee’s direction.

“It wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you would’ve cleaned after yourself,” he spat. To emphasize his point, he swiped his hand over his sleeve, sending a few tufts of white fluttering into the air.

Yooha squinted at the hair, his features once again contorting in offense. “You think that hair is mine? Is that what this is all about?”

“Think?” Taehee scoffed. “I think we all saw how much hair fell off that fur trap of yours.”

MC groaned and flopped back onto an empty chair. “Guys, can we not—”

“This,” Yooha interrupted, holding up his pinched fingers where Taehee assumed he had caught one of his hairs, “is not mine. Look how coarse and short this is! My fur is softer and longer than this—and whiter!”

“You can’t compare anything when you can barely see that hair between your fingers.”

“Maybe you can’t, since it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your eyes.”

“Oh? Let’s pluck out some of your hair and check then.”

“What? You think this is some kind of game? My tails aren’t for you to screw around with!”

“You always take them out when MC is here anyway. Like a dog wagging its tail for its master.”

“You- Did you just call me a dog again?”

“So on top of excessive shedding you can’t hear right either? Maybe it’s time to take you to a vet.”

“I told you that fur isn’t mine! I’m not shedding!”

Taehee slammed his palm onto the counter. His adrenaline was waning, and he hadn’t even had a sip of coffee. He was getting more exasperated by the second...

“Then what?” he sighed. “Do we suddenly have a cat in the house or something?”

A soft meow interrupted the growing tension between them, and both men turned to MC who was still innocently sitting at the table.

Yooha clicked his tongue, a smile unbefitting of the situation rapidly overtaking his previous scowl. “That was cute, MC, but this is serious,” he said. His palm rested against her mussed hair. “My honor is at stake here.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Yeah MC, I know you’re trying to help us but we need to work this out,” Taehee added, slapping Yooha’s hand away from her head.

She huffed and pushed both of their hands away from her face. “Guys, I said it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah.” A tuft of red hair appeared from the corner of Taehee’s eye. Biho shuffled meekly into the kitchen, and three pairs of eyes followed him curiously. “It was me.”

Yooha’s gaze shifted from Biho to Taehee, then back to the younger goblin. “You...meowed?”

The redhead’s chest heaved in a deep, forlorn sigh. He pressed a hand over his heart and shook his head. “I am deeply sorry for my actions. I didn’t intend for it to go this far.”

“What are you talking about Biho…” Taehee’s voice trailed off when they heard another meow. The younger goblin’s mouth was closed however, and the sound seemed to be coming from his head.

Was this a new power? Taehee had never seen anything like it. Hansol never mentioned anything about Biho’s new ability either.

However, the explanation for the strange occurrence soon made itself known… with its tiny, white ears peeking over Biho’s bright red hair.

Another one of his doleful sighs filled the stunned silence in the room. “I woke up and heard you guys arguing about Yooha shedding.”

“Like I said, I’m not—” Taehee slapped his hand over Yooha’s mouth to shut him up, wanting to listen to Biho instead of that annoying fox’s voice.

“I think it was actually this kitten’s fur… Sorry Taehee, I know it’s been bothering you this whole week.”

Taehee deflated half in relief and half in exhaustion. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier?”

“I was going to, but then you looked very angry about the hair, and I thought you would ask me to get rid of it.” Biho picked up the kitten from his hair and carefully placed it in his arms, cradling it like it was a baby. In return, the kitten nuzzled its face against his hoodie.

“Where did you even get it from? Did you buy it?” Yooha asked, defensively raising a hand up in case Taehee tried to physically shut him up again.

“I found it by the road on the way home,” he replied. “It was in a box all alone and it was raining. It looked like it had been abandoned, and I couldn’t leave it there like that.” His eyes drooped, his gaze turning sad as he gently stroked the kitten in his arms.

MC cooed at the explanation, joining the coddling of the little animal.

Taehee admitted it was touching...and understandable knowing Biho’s story. Still, the fur sticking to the younger goblin’s sleeve was giving him a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Biho,” he began, making sure his voice was gentle lest he upset him with what he had to say. “What you did was good. You probably saved its life, but…”

“We can’t keep it,” Yooha interrupted bluntly, earning him a slap upside the head. And it wasn’t even from Taehee this time.

“Hey,” MC hissed, casting a worried glance towards Biho.

Thankfully, the redhead seemed to expect this. Slowly, he nodded, though he cradled the kitten a little closer to his chest. “I know,” he said. “But can we keep him until we find him a home?”

Taehee opened his mouth to protest but MC held her hand up, no doubt guessing his answer.

“Of course we can,” she said. “We can post it online. I’m sure we can find someone.”

Biho shot her a grateful smile. “Could you help me with that?”

“Sure!” MC jumped up with a grin, before pausing. “Give me ten minutes. I should brush my teeth and wash my face first.”

“Okay, I’ll be in my room.”

Then the both of them left, although MC made sure to elbow Taehee in the side. He didn’t have to look at her to know what she wanted him to do next.

An awkward silence settled once more, now that it was just him and Yooha left in the kitchen. Briefly, he made eye contact with the fox, and Taehee fought the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted they would be able to make up even after this.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?” Yooha asked with his chin up. Taehee wanted to wipe off that arrogant smirk from his face. But a wrong was a wrong, and he knew what he should do as the more mature one between them.

“Fine. The hair wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you shed. A lot.”

Silence. Presumably, Yooha was attempting to choose his words carefully, lest another argument broke out. He sighed heavily before speaking again. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

“I did apologise. But I also stated a fact. I clean your closet, you know. Your hairballs are disgusting.”

“I’ll have you know that my tails are amongst the most beautiful—”

“Just make sure you clean up after yourself from now on,” Taehee said, turning to leave. “Or I will personally shave you myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Yooha narrowed his eyes. “A mere goblin like you? Hah.”

“Hm. But a fox like you can’t disobey its master, right? All I need is to get MC to agree to it.”

Taehee felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw Yooha’s confident smile falter. Having said his piece, he turned and left for his room, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he heard his name echo angrily behind him.

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #kim taehee #wannabe challenge yooha #wannabe challenge biho #kang biho #wannabe challenge fanfic #prank war #taehee #biho #yooha

[jangofctts]

Pro·found (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit 

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (female receiving), hand jobs, language, sweet Mando?

A/N: yeehaw hope you enjoy you filthy animals. 

Part one here ---> Quix·ot·ic

He's stuck to you like glue.

After waking up in an unfamiliar bed, swathed in no less than three blankets, it's safe to say you were thoroughly confused. It's only after you roll onto your side, your injured side mind you, that you remember what transpired the day before. It sends a happy tingle all the way down to your toes but knocking your elbow against your wound and then nearly giving yourself a fucking concussion when you slam your head against the bed frame, stamps out that fire real fast.

When you finally manage to roll out of his bed with minimal damage, you find Mando hovering by the door, holding the little green goblin. It wiggles in his gloved grip (you already miss the bare feel of his hands) and when it spots you, it reaches out and begins to coo.

"He won't stop squirming," he tells you, and you reach towards him and sweep the kid into your arms.

You plant a kiss on its tiny wrinkly forehead. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You needed the rest," Mando answers. He steps closer until the only thing that separates you is the kid. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been stabbed," you snort. "And then run over by a pod racer."

He hums in acknowledgment and brings his hands up. Your breath hitches as he cups your face, gently turning your head from side to side to take in your injuries once again. Your lips quirk into a smile. "Am I gonna live, doc?"

"Maybe," he huffs, "As long as you don't make this a habit."

His thumb runs along your bottom lip as you stare up into his visor. "And if I do?"

"Then I'll throw your ass in carbonite and sell you to a coaxium mine for the trouble."

"Oh, ok, wow," you laugh, breaking away. You head towards the kid's crib and Mando follows close behind. "Good to know where I stand."

You place the child into their crib and give those ridiculously sized ears a gently pat and just as you take your hands away, an arm reaches around you and shuts the panel of the crib. You make an irritated noise as it clicks shut and when you turn around he's crowding you into the wall. You squeak as your back hits the wall and you jump five feet into the fucking air as his hands wrap around your hips, thumbs pressing into your hipbones.

He keeps you there, trapped between the unforgiving metal wall and the even harder beskar cuirass. Your heart is pounding against your ribs and you're sure that he can feel it. You're a high-strung wire and he's tugging you even tighter, threatening to snap. He leans closer, invading your space even more, and Maker he's big. Part of you is fucking terrified of this man who could snap your neck like a cracker, and the other half wants to poke and prod at his buttons until he pins you down into submission.

"You sure you wanna throw my ass in carbonite?" You whisper. Plucking up enough courage, you let your hands gently whisper over the top of his thigh. The muscle there twitches and as you brush your fingertips lightly against his inner thigh, a ragged sigh leaves him.

"M'having second..." He tapers off as your fingertips dance along the quickly growing bulge in his trousers. "Second thoughts."

The Mandalorian's hands find their way underneath your shirt. The rough scrape of leather sends goosebumps over the skin of your stomach and he quickly decides the contact is insufficient. He pulls his hands out of your shirt and extends them forward. "Take them off."

You reach for them and he retreats. You flash him a look. "Wha-"

"With your mouth," he clarifies. You can practically hear his smirk as he trails a gloved thumb over the line of your jaw. As it catches on your lower lip, he pushes into your mouth until your teeth lightly clamp down on the fabric and it slips off.

The other glove falls to the floor with a quiet thunk and both of his hands rush to cradle your cheeks. Your eyes flutter shut as the scrape of his calloused thumbs trace the plush skin of your lips and you wonder if he's imagining what'd it be like to press his lips to yours. It's almost melancholic  in the way he longingly skims over them, and you've never in the entirety of your life wanted to kiss someone as badly as him right now.  

It aches how much you want him, but he sweeps his palms down, over the fragile skin of your neck and you're momentarily distracted. You suck in a shaky breath as his palms, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric, hover just above the swell of your breasts. As you arch into him, craving for those weathered digits to dip lower, the cover of the crib flies open. It startles you both and you're tearing yourself away for the little green monster, all pouty and irritated about its surprise timeout.

Though, you can't really complain because when you lean over to pick the kid up, Mando presses himself into the curve of your body and whispers, "Later."

You nearly cream your pants then and there, but you've got a tiny goblin in your hands and that is not exactly appropriate at the moment. You turn around and he's already the climbing the ladder up to the cockpit.

                                                -=-=-=-

You don't know when 'later' is supposed to be. His later could be days from now and that alone makes you wanna scream in frustration. Normally you're not this impatient, but with him? He's addicting. It's only been a couple hours and you're already craving him.  

You finally get the kid to sleep after three failed attempts, or what you like to call, impromptu hide and go seek, and as you slip into the seat beside the crib a low, buzzing whir echoes through the ship. You stand and when you're halfway to the ladder, wondering what the fuck that was, all the lights shut off.

"Mando?" You call.

There's no response and you're a little worried. You can't see for shit, he's not answering, and the ship is floating in space with no power. Not your idea of a party, but hey, at least the oxygen filter still works.

Figuring that standing here like a weirdo in the dark probably isn't the best idea, you try and shuffle towards anything that feels familiar. Of course, you forget that there's that big fucking tube trailing across the ground, and of course your foot manages to get caught underneath it. You fly forward with a startled yelp, praying that your face won't collide into an edge or something, and then you're quite suddenly not falling.  

Strong arms steady your descent and your brain gets a bit scrambled because there is a person in the dark grabbing you. A scream bubbles out and a hand rapidly slaps over your mouth to silence it. "It's me."

You mumble out a sigh of relief, really glad that it's him and not one of his quarries that decided to reanimate spontaneously. Yet your joy is short lived once you remember that there's no fucking power.

His hand falls away, finding purchase on the curve of your hip. "Why's the power out?"

"It happens sometimes," he says, not at all concerned that this is a regular occurrence. "The wires are old."

"You mean this ship is old."

He hums and pulls you closer. You still can't see him because it's darker than a black hole in here but your fingers can make out the edges of his pauldrons and the corded muscle of his bicep. You both stay there, in the dark, and you're fine like this. With just being held, safe and suspended in time.

And then he murmurs, all sweet and soft, "I wan't to kiss you."

Sparks ignite inside your stomach and it's like a ripcord jumpstarting your heart. That's it—you've died. You hit your head on that imaginary corner and you've died. How else could you explain the object of your fascination wanting to kiss you. A Mandalorian too no less. Wait.

"B-but your helmet."

"It's dark," he says. He seems to have already made up his mind and you're not gonna argue with that. If he's confident about this, then shit, so are you. You feel him shuffle around and hear the jostle of metal being placed on a crate or the ground, you aren't sure, and you tentatively reach out expecting to feel the familiar curve of his cuirass.

Instead your fingers fold over the soft lines of his undershirt. He sucks in a breath, so clear without the helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin, hot and alive, and real. He's human, just as you are.

You don't mean to jump as his hands sweep up your neck. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip into your hair, grasp at the back of your skull, and pull you forward.

He kisses you and your stomach swoops.

His lips are velvet and all thoughts are obliterated, turned into dust, and replaced with him. Only him. Your hands scrabble to find purchase, an anchor, and your fingers slide over a stubbled jaw and over chiseled cheekbones. He sighs into your mouth, and tilts your head, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides over yours, licks deep into your mouth, tasting you and then pulling away to nibble on your bottom lip.

Fuck. Why the fuck didn't you get stabbed earlier?

He makes a sound low in his throat when you tug on the thick curls atop his head and kisses you harder. They're feverish and pressing, as if the whole galaxy would end tomorrow, and it might as well because you're in heaven. Your knees feel like jelly and you know he's holding the majority of your weight, but it's impossible to stand upright. His tongue curls around yours, hot and wet, then pulls it into his mouth and sucks.

Your jagged moan echoes through the dark and he raises his chin to break the kiss. He tugs on your bottom lip once again with the blunt edges of his teeth and begins to trail wet, lazy kisses down your jaw. You try to recapture his lips, but one of his hands tightens in your hair and tilts your head back, bearing the fragile skin of your throat for him. The graze of his teeth sends goosebumps down your spine and the gentle nibbles have you whimpering. He laves his tongue over the area and mouths down to the curve of where your shoulder meets your neck and bites down—hard.

You yelp, but the hand tangled in your hair keeps you steady for him. You can't go anywhere like this. He presses soft kisses on the throbbing skin, sure to leave a mark, as if in apology then trails the tip of his tongue all the way up to your earlobe. His warm breath fans over your ear and he lays a sweet kiss over the cartilage. "Lay down."

Stars. His voice is even more rich and honey sweet without the tinny and artificial filter in his helmet. You drop like a fucking rock and it's a miracle you manage not to knock into something on your way down. Your fist clenches the collar of his shirt and you drag him over you, feeling his quiet chuckle vibrate against the crook of your neck. Your legs fall open around his knees and his palms smooth over your thighs and hike them up higher around his waist. His mouth is on yours again, his elbows caging you in as he props himself above you and you feel the growing hardness between you.

You arch your hips, slowly grinding up into him. He inhales a shaky breath and licks deep into your mouth and digs his cock over your clothed center. Liquid heat is swirling in your belly and you and him are wearing entirely too much right now. He seems to get the same memo because his hands are now slipping over the waistband of your pants and pulling them off, underwear and all. You squeak as cool air meets the slick already pooling at your center and he's molding himself back over you.

His head tilts and his tongue flicks across the shell of your ear. He thrusts his hips forward, your cunt surely leaving a wet spot on the fabric, and groans low in your hear. "Shit."

Mando grabs at the edge of your shirt and hauls it over your head, your bra quickly following. His mouth quickly latches on to your collarbone, sucking a mark there then making a steady trail down to your left breast. He hovers just above your peaked nipple and you whine in desperation. His fingertip is swirling a teasing circle over the areola on your other breast and you bite back all kinds of swears and curses, wishing this sweet torture would end. You're aching and desperate and when he finally, finally pinches the pebbled skin between his forefinger and thumb, you're arching into his touch with a silent wail. The hot cavern of his mouth encases your nipple and carefully brings his teeth around it. You whisper his name and he tugs your nipple up then releases.

He mouths a kiss onto your sternum and rests his chin there. "Can I taste you? Fuck—more of you? Please—You—you were so sweet on my fingers last time."

The image of him licking your arousal off his fingers after you passed out the day before sends a wave of burning heat through you. You don't even have to fucking think because a garbled yes is already leaving your mouth.

You feel him smirk against your sternum and he's hurriedly shuffling lower. He hooks his hands underneath your knees and places them around his broad shoulders. His bare fingers trace tiny patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver and then you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. There's a moment just before, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his breath, anticipation gripping your chest, and then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your clit.

His mouth Is searing hot and his tongue feels like liquid velvet as you shudder and dig your hands into his hair. He grunts against you as you drag him closer, all too happy to comply. His mouth encompasses your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves. He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and sweeps down to your opening. The tip of his tongue traces your entrance, then down to lick at your wetness that dripped lower, and then back up.

It's good. So fucking good and when two of his thick fingers press at your entrance you nearly go blind from pleasure. The two digits slip in with ease, all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. He pushes them back in, then out, a steady pace that he never strays from. It leaves you bordering the edge of madness, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture.

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thing air, and you're begging, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge. You feel his mouth pull up into, what you can only imagine, is the biggest shit-eating grin.

"Please! P-please—I-I need..." You're babbling and he drags his fingers over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your other thigh. "Mando. Fuck. You—your fingers. I need—"

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined electricity. His mouth sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body goes rigid. You're flying off that wall a million miles an hour—cumming onto his tongue and Mando keeps licking you through it even as you arch and squirm. Stars are bursting behind your eyelids and heat hotter than a wildfire spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're twitching and you hear Mando, feel the vibration of his groan, as a flood of your juices coat his tongue.

Your brain is lost in bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into you're core and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing, but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your previous orgasm to push him away. He takes the opportunity to move his fingers faster, suckle at your clit that burns from overstimulation, and somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's razor sharp. Your thighs are shaking around him and as he twists his fingers inside you and curls into that tiny, little spot, your orgasm is wrenched out of you. It's searing—all the way to the fucking bone and you're positive you'll end up a burnt crisp. Your cunt pulses around Mando's fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually relent into a dull throb. You whimper and you have to push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. He pulls out his fingers with an embarrassing wet sound and then his crawling back over you.

Sudden exhaustion weighs over your eyelids and there's nothing more that you want to do beside fuck him, but you're already half asleep. "M'falling asleep again, Mando."

"S'fine," he says. "Just—just a little longer, ok? I won't—won't put it in."

"Ok..."

He moves to tug his pants down and you feel a dribble of wetness drip onto your hip. He grabs your hand that's lying limp on the floor and cups it around his thick, painfully hard cock. That's enough to wake you up again.

You swipe your thumb over the weeping slit, feeling it twitch. You curl your forefinger and thumb together, making a circle, and roll your wrist around the head of his cock, tugging and squeezing lightly. His groan is jagged and sharp and the sound causes a fresh wave of arousal to shoot straight to your cunt. Your hand then wraps around him, and gives the hard flesh, a few experimental pumps. His hips stutter into your grip, following your motions as if afraid you'd suddenly stop.

You feel fingers press at the seam of your lips and you readily open your mouth for him. You suck the digits into the hot cavern of your mouth, lick over the salty lines of his palm, and when he's satisfied he tugs them out of your mouth with a pop and smears it over the base of his cock. With your saliva and the steady stream of precum that trickles out like a fountain, it's easy to slide your hand up and down from base to tip, paying careful attention to the ridge of skin on the frenulum.

"Maker," he gasps. "Almost there. Doing s'good. Good—good girl."

He's thrusting up faster into your hand and your bring up your other hand to gently cup his balls. His whole body quivers as you roll them gently in your palm and he's pitching forward to press his forehead to yours. Your nail lightly scrapes over the head of his cock and with one last squeeze to his balls, he's roughly grabbing your shoulders and cumming over your stomach. His balls pull up nice and tight and pulse. Spurts of hot cum gush over your skin and paint your ribcage and belly, his hips stuttering and pushing into your hand roughly.

"Ah. Shit—shit. Prob-bly look so go-good with my cum all over you."

You blush and his hips slowly stop thrusting as the last few strings of cum are milked out and drip over your fist. He's still sucking in air as you remove your hand and lick his spend off the slops of your knuckles. He tastes good—warm and thick on your tongue and next time you want it all in your mouth.

His chest heaves as he lowers himself beside you and tugs you close into his chest. You don't pay attention to the sticky mess on your stomach and he doesn't seem to mind. He brushes your hair from your forehead, tucks it behind your ear and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. He whispers a quiet thank you and presses a soft kiss below your jaw and the ground is suddenly the most comfortable fucking thing in the world.

You drift off to sleep, cuddled into the Mandalorian's side.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #smut #reader insert #star wars #pedro pascal #itsspacecowboys #fanfic #welcome to hell boys

[jennifercrowart]

D&D Diary - The Yawning Rodent, 10

Refresher: Our adventurers Lugs (grung barbarian), Lurk (grung rogue), Aelia (tiefling cleric), and Valas (drow sorcerer) with tagalong Deku (ratfolk cleric) continued the battle against the hobgoblin leader of the Goblin Gang, Durnn, and his gang members. Suddenly, Yusdrayl, leader of the Kobold Gang, joined the fray with her elite guards, providing backup to the party. After the Goblin Gang was defeated, Lurk made Durnn lie to Yusdrayl and say that the Goblin Gang still has Calcryx, and that they moved her to the lower level when they heard the adventurers coming - when, in reality, the adventurers had already knocked her out and spirited her away to the Rat's Nest in the previous days, rather than returning the dragon wyrmling to Yusdrayl.

The party levelled up to 3, and climbed down the vines lining a well shaft in Durnn's chambers to descend to the floor below. They landed in a room lined with garden beds, and Aelia called out to two animated skeletons tending to them - but, when she did so, the skeletons and some twig blights attacked! Valas also spies a bugbear and two giant rats by a fire in the adjoining room...

Sunless Citadel spoilers!

The robed skeletons, armed with gardening shovels and following the lead of the twig blights, attack!

Lugs recalls how he spent his recent short rest soaking in his barrel of water, thinking about home. He's sick of this place, and wishes he could return to his cosy hometown, where he can take a swim whenever he likes. As his rage builds, he reaches out to the element of water that he misses so dearly - he shouts (croaks) in Grung, "I call upon the powers of the swamp!", and a torrent of muddy, brackish water erupts from the ground at his webbed feet, bowling into everyone around him. The rest of the party, as well as the skeletons and twig blights, get hit with this barrage of swamp water dealing bludgeoning damage, as Lugs surges forward and completely obliterates the closest twig blight with his club. Lugs is now a storm herald barbarian - a storm herald of the swamp! Ribbit!

In the adjoining cavern, the bugbear - dressed and equipped like a hunter - notices the battle breaking out, and begins charging into the garden room with his two giant rats, Grip and Fang.

Aelia panics when she sees the giant rats, asking Deku, "what happened to them??" This implies that Aelia doesn't know what regular rats are, let alone giant rats, as though they're cursed ratfolk?! Deku doesn't know what to say.

Lugs runs over to meet the hunter and, with another loud croak, he refreshes his torrent of swamp water. The wave pushes the bugbear against the wall, hitting his head with a yell. Aelia follows up with Toll The Dead, hitting him back against the wall with the force of the magic and making him look a bit concussed.

As the party turns their attention to the bugbear hunter and his giant rats instead of the weaker skeletons and remaining twig blight, Valas uses his Metamagic to shoot two Chaos Bolts, with one boosted by his Tides of Chaos, hitting each giant rat. Grip and Fang fall unconscious with little squeaks, and, without him doing anything, Deku's amulet of the Rat King begins to glow, quickly and automatically teleporting the hurt giant rats away.* The bugbear curses in anger, mentioning that rats are very naughty and that it took ages for him to train them.

After using so much of his magic at once, Valas feels the wild magic surge bubbling up once again. Suddenly, his skin tingles and sparks, and powerful arcs of electricity suddenly burst out of him and strike one of the skeletons, the bugbear, and Lugs. The bugbear is electrocuted, killing him, and he hadn't even had the chance to make a single attack yet. The skeleton is easily killed and turned to ash. Lugs gets zapped too, his silhouette showing his froggy skeleton, but is still standing, thanks to his strong constitution - though he's looking much more worse for wear.

Stunned by all of this, Lurk just stabs the air next to him without even looking, and kills the last twig blight.

With the battle over, the party has a look around. Aelia, disgusted and furious, points at her swamp-soaked dress - once white  but now mud brown at the ends - and says that she'll be sending Lugs her dry-cleaning bill. Lurk sees that there are four well-tended garden pots around, each with a strange mushroom in it. Three of the mushrooms are withered and dull, dead as though they had just failed to thrive, but the fourth mushroom is glowing a vibrant purple. He picks it and shows Lugs, musing about what it could be for, when Lugs just says it's a funny mushroom and jovially slaps his brother on the back. Lurk gulps as he lurches forwards from the hearty blow, and when he turns back to Lugs, he's accidentally swallowed the purple mushroom. His eyes grow wide, and the colours invert so his sclera are black and his pupils are white. Suddenly, he collapses.

Deku panics. He'd cast Detect Poison And Disease just earlier, to check the mushrooms and garden, but the only things that his senses had picked up on were Lugs' and Lurks'  inherent poisonous skin secretions, normal for grungs. He tries to wake Lurk up, as Lugs gets concerned for his brother.

After a moment, Lugs hears Lurk's voice in his mind, telling him "ah, my brother, I have not seen you in quite some time." Though Lurks' lips aren't moving, Lugs is relieved and thinks he must be ok and awake. Lurk does open his eyes, with the white pupils now an unsettling purple, just like the mushroom's colouring. He stares wide and unblinking.

Aelia asks what happened to him when he ate it, and Lurk pauses a moment. Telepathically, he asks, "what mushroom?"

After a beat, he smiles. "...oh, that?" He shakes his head. "Heh. That was so long ago." Lurk's mind has been awakened to all of space and time in just an instant. He has mentally transcended this mortal coil. Normally, grungs can only use 10% of their brain power at any one time, but Lurk? Lurk has now unlocked 100% of his brain power, expanding his mind's reach to the cosmos and beyond, and tapping into psychic abilities that regular folk could hardly even comprehend. He is now a soulknife rogue!

The group continues looking around, venturing into the cave where the bugbear came from. It's a large earthy cavern with a tunnel curving out from the back wall, and there's a fire pit, a bed, two rat nests, and a rack of weaponry. After checking the bugbear's body, Lugs takes his flail, which has runes written on the chain links. He swings it around in glee. Under the bed, Aelia finds a little box with about 780 gold in it - she pockets 200 of it in secret (though Valas notices, and Lurk does too, staring at her unblinkingly - neither says anything) and then evenly splits the rest of it amongst the whole party.

The group doubles back to the garden. There are two more doors: one on the eastern wall, and one in the southeast corner. Lurk checks the eastern door for a lock or traps, and then sneaks through.

Beyond the door is a large laboratory, with three more doors on either side of it and one at the end. All but one of the doors on either side of the room are ajar, and they hear squishing noises from one of the closest rooms, as well as the sounds of soft conversations. Lurk continues to sneak around, and finds that the room where the squelching is coming from has two goblin interns in it, squishing fruit into goon with their feet as part of a big wine creation and straining process. They don't notice him.

He peeks into another room, and sees a goblin bandit and two interns standing around a table in a room with more lab and medical equipment, as well as dry blood splatters on the floor. The goblins are doing busywork around the room, and there appears to be a near-naked human strapped spread-eagled to the table, not moving.

Lurk uses his new abilities; he sees a cross-section of the goblin bandit's body, and sends a small blade of psychic energy cutting through the spinal cord. Without a physical wound or the noise of a weapon, the goblin collapses, killed instantly. The two interns spin around at the sound of him hitting the floor, and rush to his side, confused and trying to rouse him. One of them gets up and says they're going to get some help. Lurk waits around the corner as they step out of the room, before he silently closes the door behind them and stabs them from behind with another psychic blade. The intern yelps and falls to the ground, dead.

Hearing the remaining intern inside get up to check out the noise, Lurk presses his back against the door to keep it closed. Soon enough, he feels a pressure on the other side of the door, and his feet start to slide as he gets pushed along with it. Concentrating, he uses some telekinetic energy to reinforce himself and overpower the goblin, keeping the door closed. The intern mutters, "hey, what the fuck?" and rattles the doorknob.

Lurk spins around and opens the door, staring the surprised intern dead in the eyes for a beat, before a purple psychic knife phases out of his head and shoots straight through the intern. Lurk drags the two bodies back inside the room, and takes a cursory glance at the human on the table - their eyes are closed and they're not moving, so he telepathically communicates to the rest of the party that they're obviously dead, before he goes to check out another room.

Lugs starts creeping towards the wine-making goblins when Aelia, behind him, accidentally trips on the wet and muddy hems of her dress. The goblins notice the noise and freeze, slowly drawing their clubs. Lugs, staring at them, walks up to the door and closes it. Deku, also trying to sneak into the  lab, accidentally makes a loud clang with his heavy armour, and Valas yelps as he almost slips on the mud from Aelia's dress as well. A goblin intern walks up to the door from inside one of the rooms, where they and another intern were patching up some damaged leather armour sets, to check out the noise, but stops dead in their tracks when they notice the party in the laboratory. Terrified, they close the door on themselves. Lurk walks straight up to it and knocks, telling them that they'll be killed unless they open up. They oblige, and he then demands that the two interns go stand in the corner and just quietly stare at the wall, mentioning that the other goblins here are all dead. He closes the door on them.

Aelia goes to the human on the table and sees that they're still breathing; not dead at all, but unconscious or asleep. They're covered in cuts and bruises, and their skin looks like thick, ghostly-white bark. Roots grow out of their feet and toes, and moss, mushrooms, and branches grow out of their back and shoulders. Their fingers are long and knobbly, like twigs, and their hair looks more like thin leaves. Aelia casts some healing magic on them, and when she's done, their eyes snap open and they start straining against their bindings, panicking and screaming. She calms them down, and sets to work on untying the restraints. "Who are you? How did you  get here? If you were a human before, you don't look very human now."

Insisting he's human, he begins to talk, shaking. He tells her that he's Chadley Hucrele, who she recognises as one of the people they were hired to find - the noble Kar'yn's son. Chadley explains that he and McKennedeigh - his sister - came to the Sunless Citadel with their two hired helpers to find treasure and glory, but, after exploring a bit of the citadel, they were captured by the Goblin Gang and held in a cell for a while, their belongings confiscated. The hobgoblin leader, Durnn, then told them they were being taken to 'the boss', and they were forced to climb down the well shaft to the lower level. While climbing, Chadley slipped and fell, and he suspects he broke his arm. After that, they were taken to the laboratory, where an old man called Belak met them. Belak took McKennedeigh and Bradley away, and kept Chadley here, where he'd occasionally return to feed him a vile potion that made Chadley feel seriously ill. Horrified, Valas wonders aloud if the people here are turning prisoners into twig blights. Chadley says he thinks he's been unconscious most of the time, as he doesn't remember much after that.

Aelia finds his belongings like some under-armour pants and a shirt - though Valas realises Durnn must have been wearing Chadley's armour - in the corner, including his Hucrele ring. She hands it to him. "Your mum was going to pay us just to bring back this ring."

Chadley takes it, downcast. Aelia puts together a makeshift splint and sling for his broken arm, and he pulls on his pants, but can't wear his shirt because of the growths on his back and shoulders.

Lurk also finds a crystal vial of cloudy white liquid amongst the laboratory equipment. He asks if that's what Belak made him drink, and Chadley confirms it. Deku puts it in his pack for safekeeping, as well as a strange stethoscope Lurk also found.

Lugs has a look in two of the other rooms: one is empty but has the back wall caved in, opening up to a rift that continues on into the darkness. The other room is a weapons storeroom, with a short 10ft little entrance hall attached to it. He peeks out the door of the entrance hall, and finds that it opens onto the side of a much bigger hallway, complete with artwork of dragons on the walls. Another bugbear - this one seemingly dressed more like a gardener - walks away from him down the hall. Quietly, he closes the door again and goes back to the lab.

Valas uses mage hand to open the remaining unchecked door. Inside are three goblins, sleeping in bunks in what appears to be a break room. As they haven't woken up yet, they leave them be.

Lurk tells Lugs that Lugs will be the bad cop, and Lurk will play good cop, as they enter the small room where the two interns had been making wine. Reminded of the sour goon and now faced with the image of the goblins' bare feet squishing the fruits to make it, Aelia goes and pukes around the corner. The two goblins are terrified, and beg Lurk and Lugs not to hurt them, as they aren't fighters. Lurk tells them that if they leave this room, Lugs will smash them to a pulp, and they believe the threat as Lugs croaks menacingly and busts his club into a nearby barrel, spraying goon all over himself while he stares the interns down. Sufficiently terrified, the two grungs leave them in there, blocking the door with a chair.

Valas and Aelia double-back to the garden they first entered after their climb down the well, as Valas wants to confirm something. Using one of his daggers, he saws off the branch-like arm of a dead twig blight, and sees that it's wood and bark all the way through. He sighs in relief, having been worried that there'd be some kind of flesh inside that would confirm that they were transformed people.

--------------

* = the rats are always gonna be ok, folks, don't worry

#dungeons and dragons #5e #dm diary #dnd diary #d&d #d&d diary #dnd #dungeon master diary #session recap #the sunless citadel #the yawning rodent

[need-a-fugue]

You Belong to Me

A ghost story, if you will... Written for @wonderlandmind4​‘s Fall Winter Writing challenge. I know this is in well before the deadline, but it felt like it needed to be read on Halloween. 

The prompt? “Goblins and ghosts and ghouls, oh my!”

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, etc. (no pairings)

Every night, now, is the same.

Every night, the woman comes for him, entering his room like an ethereal dream. Climbing atop him like an old fashioned nightmare.

Every night, Sam feels her sit atop his chest, gripping his shoulders with icy fingers. Squeezing his ribs, his lungs, between her naked, knobby knees.

Every night, she leans in close and drips foul-tasting lake water into his wide open mouth as he releases yet another silent scream into the dark, empty room.

Every night, he breathes her in – the cold, cold water that she seems to be comprised of – choking and sputtering and retching. Until he drowns all over again.

---

It was supposed to be an easy mission. It was an easy mission. Little more than lookout duty on his part.

He and Bucky were tasked with sitting, it seemed, the two of them made to hunker down and hold steady at the tree line, to keep watch while Steve and Natasha infiltrated the tiny – likely long ago abandoned – building nestled deep within the Siberian wilderness.

“This place is hell.” The words crackle in his mind, the sound of his own voice – pitching into pure petulance – echoing eternally as the memory plays out in yet another restless dream. He shakes his head idly to-and-fro before craning his neck a bit and twisting, the slight crack-crack-pop­ resounding in the air.

Bucky snorts in reply, his eyes still – always – suspiciously narrowed, trained ahead, his advanced vision allowing him to see the cracked open door where their teammates had entered without the need of his rifle’s scope. “It’s Siberia,” he drones. “What did you expect?”

“Not this.” No, not this, he thinks, breathing out a sigh, absolute boredom stretching out along the deep exhale as his eyes tick off past the outpost.

This is nothing like what he had expected Siberia to be. He’d pictured a barren wasteland. A snow-covered desert. A place – dead and dark and devoid – that could be of no use beyond breaking men and building monsters.

This place is beautiful. Stunning. Lush and full and picturesque, with swaths of deep, rich color popping through the low-hanging clouds. Every shade of green blanketing the ground, swirling with earthen browns in the distance as the forest gave way to the far-off mountain range. Snow-covered peaks, buried deep in the background, showing a hint of the frozen scape that he had expected to see as they traveled from the other end of the world.

Off to the east, just at the edge of the expansive clearing… that’s where a small lake lay, the water reflecting the soft gray hues of the overcast sky, small slivers of silver shining from between the thick branches of peculiar looking spruces and pines.

No, it isn’t the place he expected to see when they first climbed off the jet and began the four mile trek to the tiny outpost. Nor is it the kind of place that warrants being called hell. At first glance, it seems more like an expansive – albeit cold – paradise. And yet, Sam can’t help but feel an eerie tingling up his spine, a physical sensation that tells him there is something very not right about this little part of Siberia.

It’s the noise. Yes, that’s it. It’s the noise – or lack thereof – that has his shoulders set high and his chest tight in a sort of nervous anticipation. This place… it sounds like something out of a nightmare.

They’d been sitting in the same spot for what feels like hours, crouched at the edge of the forest, huddled in amongst the thick, spiky bushes and sap-covered trees. They’ve been sitting in their own self-induced silence – because Barnes is worse at small talk than Romanov – for a veritable eternity. And nothing, not a single bird nor squirrel nor whatever the hell kinds of animals live up here, had made a sound.

There is nothing. Not even the soft rustle of the trees in the wind. There is no wind. There is only stillness. And utter, deafening silence.

His ears ring and whomp from the emptiness filling them, the richly absent noise that burrows so deep it manages to infiltrate his brain with a cold, gray stillness to match that of the far-off lake.

And then… the silence is broken. Shattered by a deafening creak from the heavy, metal door on that small building that sits abandoned in the middle of the clearing. Blown apart by the sudden pounding in Sam’s chest, forcing a thunderous tide of blood to resound in his ears. Destroyed entirely by Bucky’s single, barely audible word, hissed out through tightly clenched teeth as he jumps up and shoulders his rifle.

“Shit.”

---

“It’s perfectly normal… this sort of reaction,” the doctor tells him with a shrug as she scurries to the other side of the small exam room. “You went through a traumatic experience. You very nearly died.”

“Yeah,” Sam replies with a bit of a scoff. “But I’ve very nearly died before,” he counters, challenging brow raised high.

She lets out a long-winded, exhausted-sounding sigh, the expression riding on her far-too-young face – what is Stark’s deal with hiring child geniuses, anyway? – showing more than a hint of annoyance. “It’s extremely common for the brain to either alter or block out entirely certain memories when a traumatic event occurs. And to have… disturbing nightmares. Trauma does funny things – ”

“Please stop saying trauma,” he laments thickly, cutting her off mid-thought. “Look, not to sound like a dick, doc, but I know what trauma is. Hell, I’ve been a trauma counselor. And this? It’s not that.”

She glares at him from over the top of her thick-rim glasses. “Alright. Do you see this woman when you’re not dreaming?” she asks, eyes narrowed in interest, or perhaps suspicion. “Are you having hallucinations?”

His shoulders drop, a low groan pulling from his chest amid an annoyed, “No.”

“Because you were without oxygen for a considerable period of time,” she goes on, eyes flicking to the tablet in her hand as she begins a frantic scroll through his chart. “I was going to sign off on you today, but if you’re experiencing symptoms related to possible brain damage, to some sort of mental deficit…”

“Mental deficit?” he repeats incredulously. “No, I’m not… it’s not…” He throws his hands dramatically up into the air and hops down off the exam table. “You know what? Forget it. Just… forget it. I’ve been traumatized. This is an extremely common reaction. No brain damage here,” he tells her, reaching up and rapping at his skull with his knuckles. “Right as rain.”

She eyes him warily for a long moment before clicking out of his chart and offering a painfully forced smile. “In that case, you are cleared for duty, sir.”

Cleared for duty. It should be a good thing. It is a good thing, he tells himself as he heads for the conference room on the ground floor. Their mission in Siberia had been effectively cut short by his little plunge into that icy lake, the team racing to his rescue in lieu of clearing out the bunker and following up on any potential leads.

The place had been abandoned, or so Steve had told him once he woke a day later, laid up in medical. It looked to be little more than storage, a thick layer of dust sitting atop mountains of boxes, piles of papers, and stacks of old hard drives. He and Natasha had been slowly making their way through the plethora of crap, attempting to discern what held the most intel, what items were important enough to be lugged the four miles back to the jet, when they heard the heavy metal door to the building slam open.

Steve couldn’t say where the woman had come from. Natasha either. They had seen a row of cells that extended down a long, musty corridor. Had walked the hall and shone their flashlights into each and every one. But there was no one there, not that they had seen.

And while they had heard the door creak open up above them, signaling the woman’s escape, and while both Sam and Bucky had seen her flee, race across the field and into the woods. Once she hit the water and plummeted into that deep, cold lake, it was as though she had never really been there at all.

“You good to go?” tears Sam’s attention away from his wandering mind, deep brown eyes shooting across the room and finding a rather concerned looking Steve staring him down.

“Uh,” he sputters, glancing back at the open door. He had been so lost in own world that it hadn’t even realized he’d made it downstairs and entered the conference room where the prep work for the return mission was taking place. “Yeah,” he says with a slow nod. “All clear.”

Steve gives him a quick, stilted nod of his own, worry still etched across his face. “Good.”

---

She’s here again tonight.

He feels her approach, splitting through the soft quiet of his bedroom with a foreboding silence that echoes deep in his ears.

He sees her loom above him, a pitch black shadow that swallows even the moonlight-tinged darkness around him.

He feels his lungs begin to burn and constrict as she coils herself around his chest, squeezing him tight as she settles in.

He watches – paralyzed, eyes wide and unblinking – as she leans in close and whispers something into his ear. Into the dead of night. Something soft yet cutting, familiar yet indecipherable.

He stiffens even further as she cages him in, dark wet hair spilling down either side of a face he can’t quite make out, drip-drip-dripping into his once-again gaping mouth.

And – again – he drowns.

Sam wakes with a start, a choking, burning sensation filling his chest and tearing up and out of his throat in a gasping shout. He bolts upright, wide eyes desperately searching the dark for… something. For the dark haired girl whose silhouette is scorched onto the backs of his lids. For a familiar shadow… of anything or anyone that might calm him, ground him, make him believe he’s here. Safe at home.

For nothing at all. Because that’s what this is after all. Right? Nothing but a dream.

A long, languid sigh spills out of him as he spins and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting heavily as his breaths begin to level. He ducks his head, his bleary eyes blinking to focus on the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s nothing. Until…

Drip. He hears it first, a drop of water plopping, tiny but close, a drip onto the floor beside him.

Drip. He feels the next, splatting on his naked toe. The smell of sulfur – of rotten eggs and putrid lakes, decaying dreams and literal brimstone – suddenly pervades the room.

Drip. This time landing on the very center of his foot.

He shifts to face up, head righting itself achingly slowly, hesitation flooding his veins. His lids roll shut, pinch tightly together, as his face straightens, head slowly shaking back and forth in a silent plea.  

Drip. A tiny, cold burst of water hits the tip of his nose. And his eyes snap open, taking in nothing but the pure, eternal dark.

---

Everything feels like a dream these days. Even this. Even sweating in the Avengers’ decked-out gym, Bucky by his side cringing like a mad man as he finishes his reps. There’s something odd and… murky about the world as it goes on around him now. Like everything is graying at the edges, the picture in front of him curling and singeing and smoldering into black even as he sits – paralyzed – at its center.

Sam shakes his head swiftly to fling away the eerie thoughts. To bring things back into focus.

“A roo-what-a?” he asks, voice thick and groggy, as he replies to Bucky’s just uttered words. He swipes at his red-rimmed eyes yet again, the thick grittiness left from too little sleep – from too much effort at holding them open – never fading, no matter how much he rubs.

Bucky racks the weights – just your standard 120-lb dumbbells, nothing too heavy for an early morning warmup – and grabs his half-empty bottle of water. “Rusalka,” he repeats before easily chugging the rest of his drink.

Sam rolls his eyes. The bastard just finished five drop sets, and he admitted to being late to the gym because he accidentally ran an extra five miles… and he’s barely even broken a sweat. “You do realize that doesn’t clear up a damn thing,” he issues out in a painfully annoyed tenor. “Right?”

He crumples the plastic bottle in his metal fist and chucks it into the recycling bin in the corner. “Look it up,” he says, his own voice taking on an irritated tone to match.

“You know, Barnes, you’re a real dick.”

Bucky glares at him for a moment, that oh-so-familiar dangerous stare that he opts for too damn often. Over the past several months – as Steve saw fit to pair him up with this wreck of a man for too damn many missions – Sam had grown rather accustomed to the stern, narrow-eyed scowl. But he was also starting to get used to the look that followed, the relaxed jaw and raised brow that seemed to signal a shift from the protective cover of the Winter Soldier to the knowing – at times even trusting – fellow Avenger. “I stood here and listened to you bitch about some nightmare witch, didn’t I? Seems like I’m a fucking fantastic friend.”

Sam rolls his eyes again, a deep, burning ache pulsating just behind them as he does so. “Look… I know it sounds crazy. It is crazy… but…”

Bucky nods slowly, his lips pursed and brows raised as if in absolute agreement.

“But,” he goes on, only to lose the thread entirely. The truth is, there’s no possible way that he can say anything, explain anything, that won’t make him sound like an absolute psycho. “I just… you were there, man,” he tries, voice fading off into a defeated sigh. “I don’t… I don’t really remember what happened. Not all of it. But…”

“A woman ran out of the compound,” he begins gently, his voice oddly deep and light. Patient. “Looked like a prisoner or a… an experiment of theirs. She took off into the woods, fell in the lake. You went in after her.” He relays what happened – for the umpteenth time – in a calm, matter-of-fact way. He is, after all, no stranger to gaps in memory. Nor, frankly, to traumatic nightmares. “I pulled you out,” he says, dropping his strong, flesh hand to Sam’s shoulder and giving a quick, firm squeeze. “Never found her.”

Bucky’s eyes tick up to look past him, over his shoulder. He gives a slight nod just as the heavy gym door clanks shut. “What’s happening, gruesome twosome?” Clint calls out as he strides over. “Cap got you two working out together now too?” he asks with a chuckle. “Feels like he’s trying to set up his best friends. Better be careful, I think that guy’s a step away from parent trapping you two.”

Sam blows an exhausted sigh out through his nose as Bucky pivots away and says simply, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Haley Mills, Sarge,” he responds with a crooked smirk as he steps up to the rack and grabs a pair of twenties. “Don’t bother with the Lindsay Lohan crap.”

“Okay,” he drawls out, gaze setting back on Sam, his clear blue eyes shining with a conspiratorial glimmer. “Doesn’t clear up a damn thing.”

Clint drops down to the bench to start some curls, watching his biceps carefully as he asks, no strain at all to his voice, “What are you two BFFs gossiping about down here all alone?”

“Ah,” Bucky breathes out with a soft cadence. “Sam’s seeing ghosts.”

“First of all,” Sam breaks in, single pointed finger raised high. “I hate you. And secondly, one ghost. Just the one. And you named her.”

“I didn’t name her,” he bemoans rather dramatically. “I said it sounds like a rusalka.”

“Which is…” Clint intones, inquiring brow raised high.

Bucky lets out a harsh sigh, his shoulders drooping as an annoyed expression tugs at his face. “It’s just this bullshit legend.” His countenance drops, eyes ticking away and darkening for a fraction of a moment as he states, “Couple of guards I remember used to talk about it. Superstitious fucks.” Another sigh, and he returns his typically steely gaze ahead. “It’s like the lady of the lake. A ghost,” he finishes with an exasperated cadence.

“Ooooh,” Clint mocks, glancing up at the pair and offering a playful wink. “Goblins and ghosts and ghouls, oh my!”

“It’s not funny,” Sam spits out, his normally good-natured attitude splitting at the seams and releasing a rather embittered version of himself… one that catches Clint off guard, causing him to stop his curls and gently set the weights down beside him.

“This about the mission last week?” he asks, his own lighthearted voice taking on a more serious edge. He turns to Bucky. “Lady of the lake? Like the lady you two saw drown in that lake?”

He nods, head bobbing low to hide the slight blush – a ruddy betrayer of shame – as he internally chides himself for mocking his friend’s pain. “I used to have to dreams too,” he says softly, voice low and tender. “Still do.” He looks up at Sam, nervously chews at the corner of his mouth before releasing a sigh and steeling himself once again. “You kill someone, or just… can’t save someone… yeah, that shit haunts you.”

“I know that, man,” Sam counters, a frustrated quality to his tone, to his stance. His eyes flit between Bucky and Clint, each man giving him his full attention, rapt and stoic and… invested. “I’ve had dreams too. Nightmares. Of missions gone wrong and people lost and…” His head begins a slow, certain shake, his gaze piercing and true as he states, “This isn’t that. I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t that.”

---

It hits him again, the moment his eyes finally fall shut, every battle against sleep seeming to end just the same way. The smell of the water. The stench of rotten eggs sitting high in his sinuses, tingeing the air he breathes now, here in his quiet, dark room.

“Shit,” breaks through the peculiar din, and Sam’s distant gaze snaps towards the building at the center of the clearing. To the door, no longer merely ajar, but flung wide open. “Shit,” Bucky repeats, the curse heavily spat as he rises and shoulders his rifle before launching forward through the brush.

It’s a woman – a girl – stumbling over a jumble of too-long legs before quickly righting herself, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the still-swinging door, and bolting across the clearing. Sam pops up the moment he sees her, takes off running just a fraction of a second before Bucky does, and chases after.

She’s heading for the lake, her bare feet plodding so delicately atop the grass that no sound comes from them, her escape seeming just as silent as the world surrounding them. It’s just breaths. His own, fast and hard as the air beats in and out of his lungs. Bucky’s easy and controlled, even as he runs in pace behind. The woman’s, stilted and frantic as she speeds across the land, slipping into the forest, making a beeline for the water.

She runs. On broken, blistered soles. Over frost-bitten grass and through sharp, stinging nettles. Branches slapping, cracking, whipping thick, red lines into the exposed flesh on her arms and legs. She runs. Away from the others. Away from everyone. Away from everything. She runs. Towards salvation. Towards home. Towards a wide, placid expanse.

Bucky pulls ahead, fueled by that damn super soldier serum that pumps endlessly through his veins. He flies into the forest after her, splitting the trees with his wide frame, plowing forward as his boots crunch violently on the fallen pinecones underfoot. And Sam follows. Just as he always seems to do. He chases after the super soldier, thoughts of Steve – I do what he does, just slower – flitting anxiously through his mind.

Sharp cracks and snaps echo through the air, breaking through the silence with small pops more startling than giant claps of thunder. Sam feels his chest constrict, his heart jumping at the sounds before resuming it’s wild beat against his ribcage.

And then… the heavy thump of boots on the ground stops, disappears altogether the moment he enters the forest. The sounds of crunching pine needles and snapping branches gone as well, leaving only the heavy pant of his own breaths and the fast-paced thrumming of his own heart echoing in his ears. Silence. Again.

Yes, this is what he remembers most.

The girl, pale and cold and desperate, running past him, slicing through the still air without making a sound. He turns, anchors his foot into the lush earth and swivels towards the flash of dark hair. The quick glimmer of a white dress. Or… no, it isn’t a dress, is it? No. It’s more like a hospital gown. No pants, no shoes. No jacket to cover her shivering body.

“Sam!” The shout pulls his attention and his heavy boots slip as he tries to turn, looking for the man he followed, the soldier who led him into these cold, dark woods. “Sam!” he hears again, finally lighting onto Bucky’s form, a quick, blinding flicker shooting off the bright metal arm. He’s far behind, stilled in the brush, his normally stoic face awash with something akin to fear. To terror.

Sam’s boots skid and slip on the muddy, moss-covered shore, eyes blowing wide as he looks down and sees the silver mirror of the lake, so close. In his periphery dances a swath of long, dark hair. He spins to see, spins and sputters, catches just a glimpse of her pale form just as it breaks through the water, the glassy surface splitting apart into violent ripples. A splash from a distance. The crunch of boots from behind. But the only thing he hears is his own short gasp as his feet slip out from under him.

And then… nothing. There is nothing to see but blackness.

He shakes himself awake, blinking almost maniacally, turning wide eyes towards the window, towards the sliver of moonlight peeking into his room. No. It hadn’t been black. It was green. The whole world was green. And gray. The water was pure silver and gray. Until he broke through that perfect, mirrored surface.

Sam! A shout, one carrying Bucky’s desperate tenor, resounds in a far-off corner of the room. How many times had he shouted his name? Once? Twice? Three times, as he raced frantically for him?

He can’t remember. All he can remember is the quiet that followed. And the cold. And the placid gray water turning murky and black the further he sank.

His eyes slowly close once more, lids too heavy to remain at attention. Body too heavy to keep from drifting off, from stilling and setting and sinking into the mattress. Sinking. He’s sinking. Down, down, down. Further into the cold dark. He feels a part of him twitch – his leg perhaps? maybe just a foot? – before he goes completely still. Paralyzed. Sunk.

A flash of a memory tears through the darkness, a snippet of something that he’s yet to recall with his waking mind. Traumatic experience, an easy explanation for why his dreams are so fucked, his memories so jumbled. So murky and black. But… This isn’t that. I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t that.

He remembers the silence. The stillness. A woman running.

He remembers the snapping and stomping and shout of a friend.

He remembers the cold, cold dark enveloping him as he sank. As… as she tugged him down. Long, dark hair. A white gown. Ghostly pale skin… gooseflesh all along her naked arms. She pulled him down. Down, down, down.

His eyes snap open once again, lungs clenching tightly as they try to pull in air. But they can’t. His chest burns, like the blister of ice water filling within. It aches, likes a thousand pounds rests atop him. Nothing works… not his lungs, nor arms, nor legs. Nothing works except his eyes. They tick up, widening in a frantic search, desperately cutting through the dark.

Something moves above him, the tiniest glint, a reflection of moonlight shining off of… long, dark hair. Wet, the thick curtain hangs heavily, concealing much of her face as it drips. Drip, drip, drip. Icy droplets ping against his skin, plopping to his cheek in scalding shards.

She’s sitting atop his chest, squatting, perched like a stony gargoyle atop its church. For the first time, he’s able to make out her face, staunchly white, oddly luminescent. Small features, a tiny nose, thin bowed lips. They part, just enough for a bitterly cold breath to blow past. And her eyes… her eyes are empty, pale, pale blue. No. Silver. And gray. And murky, like the lake water. She stares at him with those cold, dead eyes, cocking her head as his breathing and pulse grow more erratic.

Her lips move, the smallest echo drifting to him. Unintelligible words that he’s heard a dozen times before. A hundred? A thousand? She jerks suddenly off to the side, off of his chest, faltering for just a blink of moment before shattering into a million icy shards that melt into a cool puddle beside him.

Her soft voice continues to echo through the room. Through his mind. Through his soul.

Ты принадлежишь мне. Вы принадлежите нам.*

  *You belong to me. You belong to us.

#sam wilson fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #wonderland4seasonalwc #sam wilson #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #ghoststories

[smut-goblin]

Pocket Healer (m!orc x f!goblin nsfw)

Meeri kicked the dirt with the toes of her boots. The sun was almost gone, red taint making wood and stone buildings of Crossing Point look ablaze.

Another day, another blow.

She was here every morning, before dawn, alongside other hopefuls, looking for comrades in arms to form raiding parties and bounty hunting. 

Meeri has never seen so many different races in one place - orcs, trolls, fellow goblins, even a few elves and creatures she had no names for. The other day she almost got stepped on by a minotaur!

Yet all of them seemed to be coming and going, finding their groups and striking out in search of fortune and adventure. By now Meeri felt like a permanent fixture, almost like the buildings themselves. 

No one was keen to take a novice healer with them when there were so many others with a bigger and better experience. Guess people were picky when their lives were on the line, but how was she supposed to earn battle experience if she wasn't invited to any warband?

With a sigh, Meeri made her way to the inn to check the notice board. She could whip up healing potions and kits for people to take with them and if there was an order placed at least she’d get the coin to keep a roof over her head.

In her naive dreams before coming here she'd assumed she'd have a majestic war mount by now, putting her on par with better adventurers.

Smacking into something brought her back to reality. She rubbed her nose to see what wall had suddenly sprung in her way, only to be greeted by a massive bronze thigh and a very generous bulge next to it.

-”Oooh, I wouldn't mind riding YOU into battle” - her mouth blabbed before her brain could kick it shut. Crap.

Suddenly she found herself under a judging glare of steel grey eyes. Well, one eye, the other was milky white and blind, the massive jagged scar and her two smaller sisters running across the orc face explained it. 

Meeri had to crane her neck uncomfortably to see his face, but under that gaze, she decided trying her best to hide behind her staff and hoping she won't be noticed would be the best.

-”Hey, shortstack!” - Meeri looked up just for something warm and fleshy to land on her face. Great, she just got cockslapped, the height of comedy. -”Show you can handle it and I might let you”.

Oh? Oooooh!

Her brain finally reacted. Well, if the big fella wants to play, she was more than game. She had a lot of pent up frustration to work out!

She grabbed him by the cock, sure way he’d follow, and turned towards the back alley. Strong arms hoisted her up, tossing her over the orc's shoulder with a stinging slap on her ass.

-”Too old for fucking in an alley, girl. Makes my back hurt something awful”. - he quipped happily, making his way into the inn, shaft bobbing at half-mast.

Meeri did her best to hide her face in the white mane of her unexpected hookup, face burning rade from all the cheering and hooting around them. It looked like the old orc was well-known and liked by the patrons as they addressed him by name, Maul, along with their lewd well-wishing.

Well, that's one way to get recognition among her peers.

Meeri stopped hiding and waved cheerfully at her audience as Maul bounded up the stairs.

His room looked more permanent than just temporary quarters with trophies and weapons adorning the walls. Mementoes, books, scrolls… this was a home.

-”Well, what now, little girl?” - he dropped her on the wide sturdy bed, gentle but enough to make her bounce. She hissed indignantly at him, getting to her feet, and straightening her clothes.

Meeri glared daggers at Maul who grinned, crow feet standing out as he did. She finally had a good look at him, bed giving her a better vantage point. He was older than she first assumed, seasoned and toughened, even if he had some gut, Meeri could tell there were muscles underneath. His arms and legs still looked like massive tree trunks, roped with muscles and marked by countless scars.

His square jaw bore proud tusks, adorned with rings of gold.

-”What’s the problem, lost your fire?” - Maul teased but then his hand cupped her chin, thumb running over it far more gently than she expected. -”You don't have to do this. Just stay here tonight, you can sleep on the window nook and leave in the morning. I won't say a word”.

Meeri was taken aback by his words. He must have noticed the way she scanned his looks and must have come to the wrong conclusion.

-”I was just wondering if you're really up for it, old-timer. Don't want you dying on me or anything…” - she quipped, cocking her hip.

-”Oh, so it's like that, you bratty wench?” - he moved far faster than anyone his age or size should and Meeri once more found herself manhandled as her clothes landed on the ground. -”Maybe I should teach you some humility”.

Meeri knew she should be outraged at this treatment, yet a curious and excited part of her was thrilled. This was something new, undiscovered and she wanted to see it play out. After months of trying to keep everything together and the toll it had taken on her, having someone else take the reins was both a relief and more intoxicating than the finest whisky.

She let herself be undressed and hauled onto the window niche, the space made into a lounging spot with pillows and furs strewn about it. The goblin expected to be shoved into them face first, but Maul stood her straight, facing the window, the glow from the fireplace and candles in the room illuminating her naked form for anyone who happened to look up at the inn's windows.

Meeri gasped, feeling ashamed and extremely aroused, the two emotions fighting in her. Her mind snapped back to the orc behind her as rough hands with calluses from weapon use started running up and down her body.

A younger man would have grabbed her tits or stick his fingers in her cunt, but Maul was past the whelp's need to rut everything that moved. His hands explored, teased, almost where she wanted them but always stopping and moving away.

She growled, thrusting her ass back at him, his cock rock hard now, letting it rest between her ass cheeks as she teased it, rubbing along its heated length. Mother's mercy! He was so much bigger than she expected.

-”Looks like you have no shame, brat” - Maul whispered in her ear. -”Any of those good folk down there can see you as you are now - needy and begging for it”.

-”Unsatisfied and left hanging you mean?” - two could play this game and she was going to give as good as she got. 

She rolled her hips, catching Maul's shaft between her thighs, closing around it, slowly gliding on it with dance-like movements, letting her juices cover it well. When she was finally satisfied Meeri fell back on the orc, using him for balance as she wiggled along with her rhythm, looking for the best way to rub herself on him.

-”Fuck…” - Maul swore, grabbing her breasts, rolling the nipples and tugging at them. -”How does a tiny thing like you get such ass and tits?” - he bit the tip of Meeri's ear with the last word, making her shudder and gasp.

-”I drink a lot of milk” 

-”Oh, I can see you are good at milking” - Maul laughed, thrusting to make his point.

-”Feel free to enjoy it, old man. And don't worry” - Meeri let her healing flow to her hands, the power making the air around them shimmer and skin buzz. -”I can always bring you back up” - with an evil grin she wrapped her hands around Maul's cock, one on the precum smeared head, other close to her pussy, making an extra tunnel for him to fuck.

His reaction was immediate - hands grabbing her waist, his hips snapping fast and hard as he used Meeri's body to fuck himself. 

Once more that amazing feeling of being at someone's mercy, reduced to a thing of want and pleasure hit her and she mewled pitifully, matching his every thrust with her own. 

Maul came with a furious grunt, Meeri could feel every twitch and spasm as he shot rope after rope on the poor pillows and window. 

As soon as he was done Meeri once more found herself lifted up, the orc letting her legs rest on his massive shoulders, tusks resting perfectly on her inner thighs as Maul sealed his lips around her slit and sucked greedily.

She was grateful for his giant hands holding her in place, providing solid support when her body started shaking, legs trembling uncontrollably. Meeri was already achy and needy from the previous treatment - this now was just torture. 

The goblin grabbed Maul's hair, her heels digging into his shoulder blades, giving her perfect leverage to rub herself against his face, his tongue never stopping its ministrations, the spike piercing bumping and dragging on that sweet spot inside. Oh, he was good! 

Oddly, Meeri found the iron ring piercing his flat nose even better. Countless small ridges teasing her clit. Her whole body felt wound up and tense, like before a battle, pressure building, ready to spring into action.

One right grind was all it took, a flooding rush of relief washing over her, setting her entire body tingle, making her hold on to Maul for her dear life.

She felt boneless and woozy and so, so content.

Meeri was snapped back to reality as Maul's hands yanked her off him.

-”Enough, you damn brat!” - despite his words, he was laughing breathlessly. -”Trying to suffocate me?”

The goblin only smiled dreamily, entire body relaxed and heavy, eyelids drooping.

Maul sighed and carried her over to the bed, tucking Meeri in.

-”So much for showing me up, eh…” - he muttered before joining her.

#orctober #orc #orc x goblin #goblin

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Spring Fever (18)

@adrinetteapril 2019 story

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | art | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | art | 18 | 19 | 20 |

AO3 / fanfiction.net

A huge thank you to @goblin-alchemist for betareading this story! And thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging and for the comments. You make me very happy! <3

***

Chapter 18. Bien joue

In which Adrien takes things slow 

The magic rushed through him as soon as their lips touched, making him high on spring and power. The world spun around him as sparkles cracked all over his tingling skin. Adrien felt charged with new energy, filled with inexplicable happiness and melting from emotions flooding his heart. And the earthly scents of grass, blossoming trees and spring sun only added to the sensations. The seconds the kiss took stretched to eternity as he remained in this enchanted moment. The gentle touch of her lips, the soft sigh that escaped them. Her hands clutching at his shirt, her body pressed into him. He would give anything to save this moment, to capture and preserve it forever. 

It felt like coming home and never leaving again. Like finding the center of the universe. His lifeline, his anchor, his place. And it was all her. The point all the roads led to, all the thoughts escaped to. The yin to his yang. The light to his darkness. The lyrics to his music. The art to his logic. Adrien was overwhelmed as all those revelations washed over him. He was suddenly millennia old and seconds young at the same time. Something unfathomable had been at play here, something he doubted he’d ever be able to understand. He melted into the kiss, trying to translate the entirety of his feelings into brushes of his lips against hers. Wishing she could feel what he felt right now, dazed as he was.

Finally Marinette pulled away, leaving a gaping cold space between them. Adrien tightened his grip on her waist, wanting to stop her from retreating entirely. Their foreheads still touched.

‘I love you,’ the confession spilled from his lips, still drunk after the kiss, before he even had time to think about it.

‘W-what? What did you say?’

‘I- I love you,’ he repeated, more confident now. He no longer felt feverish nor pulled to her in the way he had been. The tether was gone. But his feelings hadn’t changed. He finally understood it all -- Plagg’s revelations, the dreams, the pull. He finally knew, even as the memory of the kiss, the sensations it brought were slowly slipping away from him.

‘If this is a joke, or a way to get me to kiss you again, it’s not funny,’ she warned, her voice tight.

‘I’ve always loved you,’ he whispered with a small smile. 

‘What?’

‘That’s what the fever did,’ he chuckled lightly. ‘I was wrong when I said it made me fall in love with you. It didn’t.’

Now Marinette pulled away far enough to look him straight in the eye. Her face had confusion written all over, but that sparkle of hope glimmered in the blue irises. 

‘Marinette,’ he said solemnly, ‘you had me completely under your spell before I even broke a sweat.’

‘But… the curse…’

He put a hand on her cheek, thumb gently caressing the freckled skin. Adrien said a little prayer to any deity willing to listen, a silent plea to be allowed to caress her like that every day. 

‘Loving you could never be a curse. It’s a blessing, a gift I’ll be forever grateful.’

Instead of melting into his touch Marinette withdrew even further. Her hand went to his forehead, in a fashion typical for someone who only wants to check the temperature.

‘You’re not feverish, are you?’ she asked, still doubtful. ‘You haven’t gone crazy from all the excitement?’

‘Nu-uh,’ he shook his head, smirking at her reaction. ‘I’m as sane as the next man. The fever didn’t take away my brains, it only made me aware of my feelings for you.’

‘Your feelings for me,’ Marinette echoed. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I love you,’ he reminded. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you, just in case you missed the first few clues.’

‘Stop it,’ she hid her face in her hands.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. ‘Is it really so hard to believe?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ she mumbled into her hands. ‘It’s scary.’

‘Me loving you is scary? How?’

‘This is a dream, right? I’m going to wake up any time soon and it will turn out I drooled over my desk and Chloe took pictures and posted them on instagram.’

‘Marinette, I promise this is not a dream.’ Now Adrien dared to peel her hands off her face. 

He wasn’t so sure about this not being a dream but he was willing to risk it. Marinette was apparently overwhelmed with two days worth of confessions and revelations. But she loved him, Nemesis’ weapon had provided the ultimate proof of that. She promised he wasn’t going to lose her. That’s when he realized he could afford to slow down.

‘How about this,’ he offered. ‘I like you, Marinette. Very, very much. What would you say if I took you out sometime?’ 

***

Author’s Note: If you like this story, please let me know!

#adrinette #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml fic #adrinetteapril2019 #spring fever #perdita writes #bien joue

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Whumptober Day 9

I’m all over the place with this. I’m a day late but that’s better than nothing, right?

Day 9: Shackled

Simon

I’ve got a free afternoon today. Baz is at football practice, so I’ve got the room to myself for a change. I’m lying on my bed, window open, relishing the peace and quiet when a little bird flies in with a summons from the Mage.

He doesn’t do this that often—mainly when he’s got a mission for me. But I just got back from one a few days ago so I’d be surprised if he sends me out again so soon. I’ve already missed half a week of classes.

Penny says it’s irresponsible of the Mage and shows an unforgivable lack of respect for my education.

“But I’m getting an education in real magic when I go, Penny.”

“You can’t do the practicals without having a solid foundation in the theory, Simon!”

Penny has very definite views on magickal education. She regularly sends strongly worded missives to the faculty board regarding the educational practices at Watford. She was livid when the linguistics program was shut down fourth year and nearly went off when the music program ceased being part of the curriculum last year.

“Sung spells are so important, Simon! The technique is completely different than spoken spells—you have to perfect the elocution and the melody, not to mention the tempo.” We’d been in Magic Words class at the time and I’d been trying to levitate my notebook. It kept flinging itself off the edge of my desk instead.

Penny’s eyes had gone distant. “Sung spells are the only ones you can cast with other mages to increase their power. It’s criminal to eliminate the music program.”

“That’s one thing you and I can agree on, Bunce.” Baz had leant across the aisle, his book hovering a foot above his desk, not even wavering when he turned to nod at Penny. Wanker.

“If nothing else, I can count on you to support the value of a well-rounded education, Basil.” Penny had given him a meaningful look.

Baz’s face had lost its harsh angles momentarily, the sneer he typically sports when I’m in the vicinity fading away as his expression softened into something unfamiliar. Thoughtful and fleetingly vulnerable.

It was unexpected and it made my chest tighten. “It was important to my mother.” He’d paused, looking down for an instant before continuing. “She was a master of sung spells. My father . . . My father says he’s never heard anyone who could match her.”

I’d been agitated the rest of the class period. And most of the afternoon. It’s unnerving when Baz acts out of character. It throws me off.

Probably why he does it, the tosser.

Always plotting.

I make my way to the Mage’s office, passing through the wards set at the entrance. They’re set to let me pass freely. He’s at his desk, a large book open in front of him. He closes it and tucks it into a drawer when he catches sight of me.

“You called for me, sir?”

The Mage stands then, coming around his desk, arms clasped behind his back.

He’s taller than me.

I grew three inches this summer but I’m still a bit shorter than he is. I still have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

He’s grown a goatee this year and I’m dead jealous, even if Baz keeps making snide Robin Hood references about it.

Not that Baz has anything to brag about. He’s no better than me—not a hint more than peach fuzz on my face and Baz’s skin is even smoother, pale and unblemished, not a whisker in evidence.

“Simon. I called you here for some extra practice.” He sits on the front edge of his desk, one hand against the desk and the other lightly gripping his sword hilt. “I feel I’ve been remiss with some of your training.” His eyebrows come together in a furrow over his forehead. “We’ve not spent adequate time practicing spells you might need to utilise if you are bound or captured. Now that the Goblins are intent on your demise we need to add those to your arsenal.”

“I don’t intend to get captured, sir.”

“Simon.” There’s an edge to his voice when he says my name this time. “We must prepare for every eventuality. It is not an unlikely scenario, and not just as far as Goblins. Who knows what dark creatures might try to ingratiate themselves with the Goblins by apprehending you.”

I hate doing spell practice with the Mage. His mouth always narrows to a thin line and I can see the disappointment in his eyes, hear the frustration in his voice when he barks at me to enunciate clearly and use my words.

So much for my free afternoon. “Yes, sir.”

He walks behind his desk again and opens another drawer. “Come here, Simon. Hold out your hands.”

I put my hands out, fully expecting him to place something in them.

The Mage steps forward and snaps a set of metal shackles around my wrists before I can react. He nods at me as I stare at him in surprise. “Let’s have you try to get out of those.” He holds a hand up as I start spluttering. “Unlocking or releasing spells only, Simon. You have to count on stealth and speed in a situation like this, not brute force. The risk of being discovered or injuring yourself is real.”

Fucking hell. I’m terrible at this sort of thing, thinking up spells on the fly. I’m not even good when I try to do the ones I’ve memorised.

My mind is an utter blank. I can’t think of a single spell to open the shackles on my wrists.

“Come on, now, Simon. I haven’t got all night.”

“I can’t reach my wand.”

“Exactly the circumstance you would find yourself in, if this happened in the field. You can cast without your wand. We’ve worked on that.”

We have. I can do it, sometimes. Mostly when I don’t intend to. It’s unpredictable, like all my magic is.

“Uh . . . the only opening spell I know is ‘open sesame’, sir.”

He gives me a pained look. “Absolutely not in this circumstance.”

I wrack my brain as I give the shackles an experimental tug. The chain stretches to its full length—about an eight inch span—but I can’t budge it beyond that. The links are sturdy.

“Simon.” It’s not just a hint of irritation this time.

Ok. Ok. I can do this.

I cast “lucky break” but there isn’t enough magic in it. I try again but nothing happens.

I go through “free as a bird” and “get out of jail free” to no avail. The shackles glow for an instant with “go scot-free” but nothing happens.

I can see the Mage is getting irritated with me. I tug at the shackles again.

I try to think of spells to enlarge the cuffs but nothing comes to mind.

The Mage has his arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed, a frown on his face. He looks at his watch.

“Simon, why don’t you keep at it for a while longer. I need to check in with my men. I’ll be back shortly.”

And with that he leaves. Just leaves, with me still trapped in the cuffs.

I can feel my magic coursing under my skin as my agitation increases. I’m angry, I’ll not deny it.

When Miss Possibelf sets us tasks like this she prods us, gives us gentle nudges, hints, feedback on what we could do better. The Mage does that with swordplay, but with the magic he just seems to expect me to figure it out on my own. It doesn’t come as easily as the fighting does though. It’s a struggle. And that just aggravates him. I can tell.

I can’t believe he just left me.

Probably thinks it builds character or some such rot. “Let experience sharpen your blade, Simon.” He says that one far too often.

I sink into the armchair set in front of his desk and run through spells in my head. I’m not like Penny—i don’t have reams of them stored up.

Or like Baz, who’s never at a loss for words, the utter prat.

I mutter a few more spells. Nothing happens. I’m desperate enough to consider Bible verses. I know it’s taboo, but it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options, now do I?

I don’t want to still be struggling when the Mage gets back here.

I can think of a few verses that might work. Some of the care homes had a more religious bent than others. I just went along with it.

I cast a “loose the bonds of wickedness.” Nothing happens and I don’t get struck down for my audacity so I try another. “Break every yoke” makes the shackles glow again, for longer this time, but they don’t open.

I’m sweating now. I can feel my magic thrumming under my skin, heat coursing down my arms. I close my eyes as the red haze starts and I take a few deep breaths, muttering “stay cool” and “cool it now.”

It helps. The haze recedes when I open my eyes. I stare at my wrists, trying to think of something useful.

I’d be right well fucked if this was a real situation.

I’m right well fucked with it as a training exercise.

I yank my hands apart, as if I could break the links. There’s nothing weak about any of them.

Fucking hell! I cast a “weakest link” and pull my hands apart as hard as I can. The middle link snaps clean through.

The shackles are still firm on my wrists but I can at least move my hands independently now.

If I were really held captive this would be enough. I could call the Sword of Mages and use it, cuff notwithstanding.

But I have a feeling that won’t be good enough for the Mage.

I stew on it a bit, shifting around in the seat. I can’t sit still so I get up and start pacing back and forth across the Mage’s office.

Six steps to the bookshelf and six steps back.

Back and forth.

I just want to be free of these stupid shackles. I want to leave. I want to go back to my room.

I look out the window. The sun is slanted lower. Baz will be heading back from football practice soon.

I’d rather deal with him than be here for one more minute.

I just want to be free.

I just want to break free.

Merlin, that’s it!

I can hear the lyrics in my head. Baz may be a complete wanker but he’s a wanker with good taste in music. I’ve heard him play this song often enough on his contraband iPod.

I cast “I want to break free.”

The shackles glow even brighter this time and stay that way, shimmering. I can feel a tingle in my wrists and heat radiating from the cuffs. It doesn’t burn.

But they don’t snap open.

What am I doing wrong?

It comes to me then. It’s a song.

Maybe I have to sing this for it to work.

Fuck. I don’t sing.

I mean, I sing when I’m in the shower but only if Baz isn’t around. He’d take the piss if he heard me, I’m sure of it.

I have to try. I’m out of options and I’m sure the Mage will be back soon. I can’t face disappointing him again.

I hum the tune a few times to prepare myself.

“I want to break free.” It comes out wavery. What did Penny say? Melody, elocution, tempo. Ok. Ok.

And intention. That’s true with every spell though.

I intend for these fucking shackles to come off.

I take a breath and sing the lyric again.

And again, my voice getting stronger with each repetition. The shackles glow with a blue light and spring open, falling to the floor.

I rub my wrists and shake my hands out.

The Mage walks in just as I’m picking the cuffs up off the floor.

His eyebrows go up as he takes in the sight of my cuff-free wrists. “Well done, Simon. Tell me, what spell did you use?”

“‘Weakest link’ to break the chain, sir, and ‘I want to break free’ for the cuffs.”

His expression relaxes and relief floods through me.

“I wanted you to focus on releasing spells to remove or loosen the shackles but ‘weakest link’ is a good one in a pinch. It lets you use your sword, if nothing else.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “The other one worked as a spoken spell?”

“No, sir, I had to sing it to make it work.”

He looks pleased now and I can’t help but bask in it. “Did you?” His claps my shoulder and gives me a hint of a smile. “Well done indeed.”

I smile back.

I’m so relieved.

#so many darn spells #whumptober 2019 #whumptober day 9 #carry on #baz pitch #simon snow #the mage #shackled

[petersboyfriendsonofthor]

Sinister Six: OC!Male Reader x Peter Parker

Part I of II

Warnings: violence, lots and lots of violence, language, some angst, and a little more VIOLENCE. Also potentially awkward writing style. Wrote half of this ten months ago and my writing style/quality shifted during that time. 

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @the-claire-bitch-project @bringmethehorizonandpizza @madmadmilk @all-about-tom @keepingupwiththeparkers

Feel free to ask me about the OC, my POV choice, and tell me what you thought of it!

Description: Peter takes on more than he can handle, and you have to rush to save him

You sat on the couch at Peter and May’s apartment, lazily making out. Date night was going well so far. May was out of town for the weekend and most of the Avengers were off on various missions around the world, leaving you and Peter with an apartment to yourselves and no obligations to fulfill. The Netflix movie was long forgotten as your hand cupped Peter’s face. His hands ran over your chest as you moved your lips along his jawline. 

“Mmmh,” he moaned before tensing up. “Baby wait, stop.” He pushed you away. You looked at him with a worried expression. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked. He shook his head. 

“No no, it’s just, my spider-sense is tingling.” He left the couch to find his suit. You went after him. 

“Peter, we’ve been planning this alone time for over a month!” You entered his room to find him slipping the suit on. “I’m sure it’s just a mugging or something, the police can handle that. It’s their job, you know.”

“I know I know,” he replied. “But this feel different. I think it’s that Rhino guy. He must have broken out of jail again.” Peter moved to the window, ready to open it. 

“Need me to come?” you offered. “I’m pretty handy in a fight, you know. Plus, we could spend time together.” Peter walked over to you and cupped your face. 

“I love you, but I can handle this on my own,” he said. “Plus, I really don’t want to risk you getting hurt.” You just laughed. 

“Dude, I’m part god. I am pretty confident some guy in a rhino mech suit isn’t gonna do much damage.”

“Well, actually, he’s been genetically enhanced now, so he IS the Rhino.”

“All the more reason for me to come.” 

“I handled it last time easily enough. He’s not all that bright, so it should be a walk in the park!” 

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “Please come home safe. And call if you need help.”

“I got it, thanks,” Peter said, opening the window and swinging out into the night. 

For the next half hour, you couldn’t stop pacing. Something was gnawing at your insides. This didn’t feel like an ordinary patrol. Against your better judgment, you summoned the remote to your hand and turned on the news. Your heart stopped at the image on the screen. 

The footage showed Spider-Man engaged in combat with not only Rhino, but the Vulture, Scorpion, The Green Goblin, Electro, and Doctor Octopus. Peter successfully uses his webs to swing the Goblin’s Speeder into Vulture, sending them both spiraling out of control. Doc Ock, however, uses one of his vibranium arms to grab Peter by the leg and throw him into the camera crew, cutting out the feed. As the anchor returns to the screen, you’re already racing for the window. 

You double-tap your wristwatch, a birthday present from Tony, and your suit was constructed from the vibranium nanoparts kept within the watch. What happens when you put Shuri, Tony Stark, Hank Pym, Bruce Banner, and Peter Parker all in one room for thirty-six hours? Magic, that’s what. Shuri found a way to enhance Tony’s nanopart suit construction technology with Vibranium, and Pym and Banner were able to store all of the needed parts inside of a quantum storage unit inside of the watch. Peter was there mostly for stylistic design. He was the one to credit for the look of the suit. 

The Vibranium nano parts washed over your right arm, enveloping your arm with a glove and a wrist gauntlet. Your chest was covered with a vibranium muscled breastplate, and a modified, sleeker version of a Viking helm formed over your head. A Vibranium chain mail hauberk materialized over your torso, and greaves appeared over your calves and feet. You looked every bit a Viking as you had all those years in the past. Using some of the magic Loki taught you, you swapped out your street clothes for a crimson cloak emblazoned with a golden dragon. A vibranium shield formed on your left wrist, and a spear in your right. You rolled your neck, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leaped out of the window, using your powers to fly towards the fight in Midtown Manhattan. 

Using your HUD you called Tony, who didn’t pick up. Next, you tried Ned. He answered. 

“Chase, thank God,” he said, his voice filled with worry. “I’m watching the news right now. It doesn’t look good.”

“Yeah I know, I’m on my way to help him,” you said. “Tony didn’t pick up. You remember that number I told you to call if there was an emergency of Superhero proportions?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Call it,” you ordered. “And don’t stop until you’ve reached one of the other Avengers, understand?”

“I got it.” Where there was once fear and worry, there was now only determination. Ned would do anything to help his friends, especially Peter, even if it meant facing a grumpy Happy Hogan. You ended the call just as the fight came into view. The police were being held back by Electro and Vulture, who had recovered from his earlier attack from Peter. Scorpion, Doc Ock, and the Green Goblin were giving Peter the fight of his life. Rhino was off in the bank nearby, looting the cash, gold, and other valuables in the safe-deposit boxes. The most pressing issue was Peter’s safety, so you wanted to see to that first. However, Electro and Vulture stood in the way. They stopped fighting the cops and turned their attention to you. 

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Vulture growled, wings spreading menacingly. “Fresh out of the history museum, I see?”

“Can it, bird-for-brains,” you retorted. Admittedly, that wasn’t your best one-liner, and Electro seemed to think so. 

“The Hell kinda insult was that, kid?”

You shrugged. “Not my best work. Stark’s the best with those.” You propelled yourself forward to tackle the Vulture out of the sky when Electro shot a lightning blast at you. It scored a direct hit, and you stopped in your tracks. You slowly turned your head to face the surprised villain. 

“I’m the son of Thor, asshole. All you did was piss me off.” You charged your spear with electricity and hurled it at Electro. He didn’t have time to respond and was impaled and sent tumbling to the ground. You raised your shield and fought with Vulture. You nimbly dodged his bladed wings but took a kick to the jaw. He used this opportunity to grab you and slam you into the pavement below. Your armor took most of the damage, and you were able to throw him off. You extended your hand and made a grasping motion, grabbing him by influencing the air around him and threw him into a nearby building. You slammed him into the wall repeatedly before abandoning him for Peter, who was fighting for his life in a parking lot next to the bank. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., connect with KAREN, I need to communicate with Peter!” Peter’s voice soon filled your helmet. 

“Take THAT, armsy! OOF!” You watched as Peter took a hit from one of the Goblin’s grenades. Before he could recover, he was stung by Scorpion’s tail. He writhed in pain before Doc Ock grabbed him and flailed his body around, smashing him into any light posts, parked cars, and the ground. He finally threw your boyfriend into a brick wall and pinned him there with his metal arm. He raised another, the claws rotating like a drill, and prepared to smash in Peter’s head. One of the eyes on Peter’s mask was ripped off, and you could see that he was in a daze. 

“Peter!” you cried, flying down to assist your boyfriend. You threw your shield just like Cap had taught you, and it hit Doc’s arm at the right time, sending it into the wall a few feet from Peter’s head. Doc turned up to see where the projectile had come from, only to be met with your fist. He flew back into a parked car, smashing it. The arms went with him and Peter slumped to the ground, barely conscious. 

Scorpion and the Goblin both recovered from their initial shock and charged you. You used your wind powers to throw a pick-up truck at Scorpion, leaving only Goblin. He threw a grenade, which you forced back with a gust of wind towards the recovering Scorpion. You leapt into the air and punched Goblin off of his speeder. He grappled with you on the way down, however, and managed to land on top of you. He reared back his fist and punched you repeatedly. Your armor could take the pounding, but you couldn’t concentrate hard enough to summon lightning or force him off with your mind. Instead, you had the nano parts from your greaves reassemble on your wrist to form a small shield, which you raised just in time to block the Goblin’s next attack. 

“Ah!” He clutched his wrist. 

Ahh, much better, you thought before punching him off and sending him across the lot. The shield dissolved and reformed your greaves. You summoned back your shield with your magnetic wrist gauntlet, and it reattached itself to your wrist. You stuck it on your back and raced over to Peter’s side. 

He was in worse shape than you thought. Aside from his suit missing an eye, it was torn across the stomach and part of his left sleeve was gone. Additionally, he was bleeding from several cuts and scrapes. You weren’t a doctor, but you could just tell by the way he clutched his side that at least two ribs were broken.

“Chase? What the hell are you doing here?” he managed, wincing. 

 “Peter, baby, come on. I’m going to get you out of here.” You frantically tried to lift him, but he cried out in pain. 

“Stop stop,” he cried. “It hurts. Let me try to get up and help--”

“No no, you stay right there,” you ordered. “I’ll protect you.” You turned around to see the Sinister Six reforming, now including Rhino, who had successfully opened the vaults in the bank. Electro was absent, still pinned down by your electro-staff. Unfortunately, you needed that spear right about now, so you had to recall it, enabling a very pissed-off Electro to rejoin the battle. He could not harm you, however, so you didn’t think much of his presence in the parking lot. 

“Hopefully some of the Avengers get here in time,” you muttered. “I don’t know how long I can hold them off before I start to wear out.” Your powers were not limitless. They tire you out just as any other form of exercise would, and you had already expended a lot of energy. You put your shield back on your arm and braced for the fight. 

“We only want Spider-Man,” Doc Ock told you. “We will kill you if we have you, but there is no seed for you to die tonight, son.” 

“I have no intention of dying tonight, Octavius,” you shouted back. “And if you want Spider-Man, come and take him!” 

Vulture and Electro both dove for Peter while Rhino prepared to charge. Doc Ock sent his arms to rip off car doors, and the Goblin prepared more grenades. Scorpion charged at you from the flank. 

Doc Ock lobbed two car doors in your direction. Reaching out with your mind, you sent one flying up towards the Goblin, intercepting his grenades. The other one smacked Electro out of the air and into a wall. You turned and threw your shield at Vulture, who could not evade in time and was knocked out of the sky. You knew you couldn’t stop Rhino’s charge, so you grabbed a parked car with your mind and threw it at his head, steering the rampaging mutant towards Doc Ock. He used his arms to leap over Rhino and landed near you and Peter. 

You morphed your spear into a sword and recalled your shield. You managed to parry the attacks from Scorpion’s stinger and Ock’s arms at first. One of Ock’s arms tore away your shield, and you had to make a new one from parts from your greaves. Ock grabbed your exposed leg. The grab at your leg distracted you enough that you didn’t see Scorpion reach for your helmet, which he violently tore off. He began punching you repeatedly in the face. The taste of iron filled your mouth. Ock grabbed your face with his metal claws and began to squeeze. You cried out in pain until you saw your shield slam into the side of his head, sending him into a light post. You and Scorpion both turned to look in confusion to see Peter standing against the wall. 

Using his distraction to your advantage, you summoned your helmet to your hand and bashed Scorpion over the head. A kick combined with a gust of wind launched him into a building. You morphed your sword back into a spear and used it to channel a blast of lightning at Rhino, who was again preparing to charge. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw both Doc Ock and Electro recover. Deciding that Electro was less of a threat, you focused your attention on the Vibranium-armed villain. 

You jumped and weaved through his arms, getting in little strikes as the opportunities presented themselves. You punched the spectacles off of his face, which only enraged him. He managed to grab your arm and toss you into the same building you previously kicked Scorpion into. Scorpion grabbed you, stung you, and held you up to watch the scene in the parking lot unfold. The venom from the sting coursed through your veins. You could feel the burn travel throughout your body, as if someone filled your heart with sand and it was pumped to every last nook and cranny in your system. 

“You seem pretty protective of your Spider-friend there,” he rasped into your ear. “So that’s why you’re gonna watch him die before I kill you.”

“No!” you gasped through the pain. Between the venom and your frequent use of your powers, you were almost completely spent. You couldn’t muster the strength to break free of the villain’s grasp, not could you intervene in the parking lot battle. You felt utterly helpless to save Peter from a painful death. 

Peter tried to defend himself but was too weak. Doc Ock threw him into the side of the brick building, and Electro began electrocuting him. You could hear his screams through your comms channel. You only had a matter of moments before Electro would kill your boyfriend. 

Gathering your strength, you broke free of Scorpion’s hold and narrowly dodged an attack from his tail. You grabbed it and threw him at Electro, sending them both hurtling towards the ground. In one great bound you crossed the lot and landed in front of Peter. You summoned your shield just in time to block one of Goblin’s grenades, which sent you flying back into the wall. You landed next to Peter. 

His suit was charred, and so was some exposed skin. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was bleeding from so many cuts and scrapes. His suit was in tatters. There was no way he would survive another attack. You knew what you had to do. 

“Chase,” Peter croaked. “Chase I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here, Peter,” you promised. You placed your hand on his thigh and sent all of the nanotech vibranium to Peter, covering him in a suit of vibranium. Repulsor jets formed and lifted him into the air. 

“FRIDAY, take him back to the compound and cut comms with KAREN. I don’t want Peter’s last memory of me to be the sounds of my death.”

“Got it, boss. It has been a pleasure serving you. Mister Stark would be proud, and so would your father.” 

You choked back a sob. “Thanks hun. Tell Peter I love him?”

“Absolutely. Anything else I can do?” The Sinister Six were beginning to reform for one final attack. You heard Peter frantically calling your name from within his full vibranium suit, but the sounds were muffled. You took one last look back at your boyfriend, your only reason to live in the twenty-first century. You locked eyes and sent him a look of reassurance, but his only showed panic and fear. 

“I love you, Peter. FRIDAY, send him off. I’ll hold them as long as I can. I’ll try not to make an embarrassing show of it. And you know what? There is something you can do for me. Search Spotify and play “Swedish Pagans” by Sabaton in my earpiece. I was born a Swedish Vikingr, and I’ll be damned if I don’t die like one.”

The song began to fill your head, and your old Viking heart swelled with pride. Peter blasted off towards the north, and you turned to face the regrouped Sinister Six. Vulture peeled off to go attack Peter, and you knew just how to make your final stand as the Son of Thor. You called forth from the sky six massive thunderbolts and brought them down on the six villains. Each of the six was brought down in a great flash and a mighty roar of thunder. You collapsed instantly, and as your vision slowly turned to black, you saw a small fireball and another bolt of lightning arcing towards the parking lot...

#spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #male oc #peter parker x oc #my posts #please ask me about the oc!!!! #and tell me how you liked it!!!!

[junqkook]

— INTO THE WOODS, 1: THE GROVE (m.)

— notes; i hate that i have to say this, but STOP REPOSTING AND/OR RE-IMAGINING THIS AU AS YOUR OWN. THAT IS STILL PLAGIARISM.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre; goblin au, smut, e2l rating; explicit words; 6,790

— synopsis; getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

contents; goblin!jungkook, e2l themes, cheating implication, rough sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!), clothed sex, creampie, marking, possessiveness, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

— chapters; the grove (01) | the thicket (02) | the nest (03)

“This is just great,” you muttered to yourself, shivering slightly from the chill in the air as you stomped through the grass. The forestry around you was so thick it was damn near impossible to even begin to think of a way out. Not to mention that the sun was setting and you’d already been walking around aimlessly for hours.

You were usually fine with the forest, never venturing in too far for fear of the beasts it held within, hidden away from your human eyes. Your village spoke of them in harsh whispers, your schools educating the young about the goblins, beware the goblins lest they steal you away.

But the herb your mother needed was hard to find, hidden in the undergrowth, and you had inched further and further inside the forest until you were no longer sure how to get out, a handful of herbs clenched in your fist. Night was quickly approaching and every hushed sound had you on edge, hair rising and goosebumps raising on your skin.

You circled around as you passed a tree, foot catching in the roots poking out of the grass and you collapsed in a heap on the ground, yelping as you went down. The plants near the tree trunk muffled your groan and you spit them out as you tried to get to your feet, ankle throbbing and shirt torn at the elbow where it scratched against the bark of the tree.

Your tongue felt heavy as you pushed yourself to your knees, turning and blinking rapidly as you cradled your knees to your chest, wincing at the sharp pain in your ankle. The inside of your mouth felt odd—there was a sharp tingling sensation building on your tongue and the insides of your cheeks.

You got to your feet using the trunk as support and attempted to set your weight down evenly. You hissed when sparks of pain shot up your calf and you kept most of your weight on the uninjured limb. Limping forward didn’t seem like a fruitful option, but you refused to give up hope on finding your way out of the forest—you would get out, get home, and go on with your merry life.

It was only a few feet away where you attempted to cross over a fallen tree trunk, huge and littered with moss. It was so thick it almost rested at your full height on its side and you used your arms to pull yourself up. It was much harder than you’d anticipated, your vision blurring for a moment and your breaths coming heavy. Your arms were trembling and you whimpered as you maneuvered your feet to the top of the trunk, where you sat to gather yourself before climbing down—it was definitely going to be painful, as there was no other way but to land on your feet lest you wanted to sustain another injury.

You swayed as you turned to the other side of the tree trunk, unsteady even while seated. You rubbed at your eyes, the tingling sensation spreading to your throat. Your limbs felt heavy as you tried to move, but your hand slipped and you pitched forward, eyes closing and surrounded by black before you even hit the ground.

Everything ached.

That was your first thought upon gaining consciousness. You were swaying gently, something warm wrapped around your body. You buried your face into it and groaned, whatever it was tightening around you.

“Hold still, little human, we’re almost there,” something murmured.

You tried to open your eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. Your arm dangled in the air and you foggily realized that you were being carried by someone. Your whole body refused to do as you wanted, panic settling in your stomach from the paralysis. Your throat felt constricted, not enough air making its way into your windpipe.

Finally, finally, you were set down on the ground. Your body didn’t move, limp wherever the person had placed you. Panic seized you again, gripping tight as you tried to push through the haziness that had a hold on your brain.

Fingers prodded at your mouth, pushing your lips apart gently. Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest and you were sure that he could hear it as you felt the heat of his body tower over yours. Lips pressed against yours, parted similarly, and then a tongue licked into your mouth. You wanted to recoil, open your eyes and see who it was that had carried you away and was now kissing you. The movement of his tongue against yours continued for a few moments and your lips began to throb as he pushed harder against them.

He pulled back slowly and whispered, “Swallow.”

Without thinking, you did as he said and relief was almost instantaneous. Your mouth no longer felt as though a fire had been lit inside of it, the relief spreading to your constricted throat until it felt normal, only a dull ache in its place.

He pressed his mouth against yours again, gentler this time, nipping at your lips and swiping his tongue across them. Your eyes fluttered open and met brown ones, the man staring right at you as his mouth worked against yours. Your fingers twitched and you made a muffled sound, prompting him to push himself away from you.

You struggled to sit up, the man offering no help, but you finally managed to prop yourself up, hissing at the tendrils of pain shooting from your ankle. You turned to look at the man crouching beside you, his face impassive. He looked exactly as a human would, but you knew better—you checked his ears, which were elongated back and curved at the tips, fading from a pale skin tone to a light green at the points.

“Goblin,” you whispered, lips trembling. Your voice came out hoarse.

“Human,” he mocked, sneering at you.

“Why—why did you bring me here?” you asked, fearful. Was he going to eat you? But that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, since he’d just—wait, had he just saved your life?

“Poison,” he answered you, watching you collect your bearings, chest heaving. “You had hemlock poisoning.”

Your fingers were shaking, remembering how you’d fallen face first into a patch of plants beside a tree right before you had gotten dizzy. You managed to poison yourself with hemlock accidentally and now here you were, seated beside a goblin.

You should thank him for saving your life. You wanted to. But these creatures always carried with them a price for good deeds.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him slowly.

He scoffed, turning away from you and standing to his full height. He left you with a tiny semblance of privacy as he shuffled over to a desk and you looked around yourself, seated on the earthy grass. It looked like an alcove and you could see a shut wooden door up ahead, everything lit with small lanterns that lined the walls.

“Who said I wanted anything from you?” he finally spoke, turning to face you again. He threw you a blanket, which you caught with unsteady hands and held to your chest. It was scratchy but warm and you spread it out over your body, relishing in the warmth as the goblin watched you from where he stood, merely a few feet away.

“You’re a goblin,” you told him. “Goblins always have a price.”

He smiled sharply, eyes hard. “And you’re a human. Humans are always ungrateful.”

You frowned, pulling the blanket up to your chin and watching him. “I’m not ungrateful. You saved my life.”

“I did,” he returned. “Hemlock does not affect goblins the way it does humans.”

“We don’t know each other,” you said lowly. “Why would you save my life?”

He sighed, fidgeting. “Death is not something to wish for.” Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth, but he continued before you could speak. “Also, I do not desire the blame for a human’s death.” He glared at you for a second too long before turning back to his desk, fiddling with something you couldn’t see.

You shut your mouth, cheeks warming. You shifted your body weight, grimacing when your ankle shot pain up your leg and tingles set in. Reaching down, you pushed part of your sock down and away from your ankle, biting your lip when you saw how swollen it was—it was even starting to bruise.

The silence was stiffening and your nerves weren’t calming, not when you were basically stuck in a goblin’s home with said creature having every advantage of you. If he really didn’t want a human’s death on his hands, he would let you leave, surely. You weren’t sure if you’d even be able to stand, let alone find your way out of the dense forest, but you needed to take the chance anyway.

“Can I leave?” you asked, breaking the silence and staring at the goblin’s back.

He turned to face you again, blinking his large brown eyes comically. You bit back an incredulous laugh—he was immensely attractive, especially for a goblin; though, you’d never actually seen one in the flesh before, only from stories told by others and what you’d learned in school.

“No,” he responded.

Anger bubbled up inside of you. “Is the price for saving my life keeping me here?” you hissed. He rolled his eyes and you scoffed. “I knew you’d have a price—goblins never do anything out of the goodness of their hearts.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “If you even have one.”

Your remarks were met by more silence and you let it fester for a few beats before facing the goblin. He was staring down at a small glass vial that he held in his large hands, turning it over while he clenched his jaw tight. The movement made his pointed ears twitch.

“There is no price,” he finally said, meeting your gaze harshly. His brows were pulled down, wrinkling the skin between them and his lips were downturned into a scowl. “If you don’t wish to die from the hemlock, you need more treatment.” Your face felt hot, embarrassment slipping into you and gripping tight. The goblin’s face was like stone, not revealing anything except his displeasure, but his eyes—his eyes reflected the hurt that your words must have inflicted.

“Oh,” you muttered quietly, tearing your gaze away from him. You couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, your pride too high for any thought of apology to form in your head.

He set the vial down on his desk and walked away from you, further into the home—which, you suspected, was just built in an alcove or maybe even the hollow of a tree. Who really knew, when it came to goblins? They were known to have magical abilities, causing the downfall of many humans throughout history.

“How—how did you heal me?” you asked, voice quieter than it had been earlier. You twisted your body to face him, watching him settle down in a very comfortable looking worn out couch. He gnawed on his lip, looking flustered, before he could meet your eyes.

“Saliva,” he answered you. “If you swallow goblin saliva, it heals the poison in your body.” You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering how he’d kissed you when you awoke. “You, uh—you ingested too much of the hemlock to fully reap the benefits of the treatment. That’s why you must stay here until all of it can be removed from your body. The paralysis was already settling in when I found you.”

It was quiet in the home, the only sound between the two of you being your heartbeat ringing in your ears. “Thank you,” you breathed.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, grabbing a book and starting to read, flipping through the pages.

“Um,” you interrupted. “I’m ____. What’s your name?” He only responded by quirking his mouth up and staring at you. You rubbed your palms on the grass beneath you nervously. “I’d like to know the name of the creature that saved my life.”

He let out a slow breath, shutting the book and relaxing further into the couch. He gave you an inquisitive look, running his gaze down your body quickly as he considered your request. “I do not owe you an answer,” he started. “But I will give you one. My name is Jungkook.”

You bit back the smile that twitched at your lips. “Thank you for saving my life, Jungkook,” you said.

His eyes were sparkling with mirth as a smile lit up his face, though those brown eyes of his remained dark as they focused on you. “You’re welcome, ____.”

You woke to Jungkook shaking your shoulder gently. Blinking up at him in confusion, you sat up and groaned at the twinge in your back from sleeping on the grass all night.

Your throat felt a little clogged up, rough, and you coughed into your palm. Jungkook let his palm rest on the back of your head, slipping his fingers in the strands of your hair, and pushed a small vial onto your lips, raising his brows and nodding in encouragement. You parted your lips and tilted your head back into his palm, letting him pour the liquid into your mouth—it tasted sweet, like candies that reminded you of home.

Once you’d swallowed, he set the vial down and leaned in. You put a hand on his chest and stopped him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, voice hoarse with sleep.

He lifted a brow in response. “The antidote I’ve made isn’t enough. I assume you want to be on your way home soon?”

“Of course I do,” you snapped.

“Then you need some help from me,” he told you. “Unless you’d prefer drinking the saliva from the vial as well, in which case it’ll only take me a few minutes to fill it—”

“No, no, no, no—please don’t spit in it and make me drink it,” you interrupted, gagging at the mere thought of what he was implying.

The slight smirk that quirked up his lips didn’t slip by your notice. “Then the only other way is to kiss you.”

You grumbled, ignoring the tightening of your belly and the trembling of your fingers. “Can’t we do it somewhere more comfortable?”

His smirk turned into a frown as he glanced back at his bed. “No offense, but I’m not fond of having a human in my bed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, fine, whatever, just do it—”

His mouth was pressing into yours immediately, cutting you off. You made a muffled sound against his lips and parted yours, letting your eyes flutter shut. Jungkook licked into your mouth, pressing his tongue against yours as his hand moved to cup your cheek, the one in your hair tangling and tugging you into an easier position.

You gasped as he angled your head back farther, shuffling closer to your body and kissing you harder. Your hands fisted in his shirt, gripping the rough fabric tightly as you tried to push even closer to him. You met his tongue’s movements with yours, trying to lead the kiss as your body grew hotter and hotter.

He pulled away from you with a loud and obscene smacking noise. Your eyes snapped open and you met his dark gaze, his pupils dilated. He let go of you quickly, as if touching you burned him, and cleared his throat. You had to catch yourself before you fell completely on your back, chest heaving as you swallowed. Your cheeks flushed with warmth and your nerves tingled all over your body, spreading like a wildfire through your veins.

“I think that’s—that’s enough for today,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the shine on his lips away with the back of his hand.

“Okay,” you agreed simply, cursing yourself for getting carried away in his kiss.

“I have to go out and do something,” he told you blankly, grabbing a pack off his desk and shoving items into it. He turned back to you, face wiped of all emotion. “Don’t touch anything.”

You nodded and he didn’t spare you another glance as he turned and walked down the alcove, opening a door and walking out into a brightly lit forest from what you could see, shutting it after himself. The loud click of a lock quelled your enthusiasm and you huffed, slumping in your spot.

You tried to get up, but you couldn’t even bend your foot as pain seared up your calf from your ankle. You wanted to explore his home while he was gone, though you weren’t sure how long it would take him to return. Scooting back slowly, you managed to make it to the desk he had, twisting yourself onto your knees and wincing at the throb of protest your ankle gave when you lifted your foot up in the air behind you. Using the desk as support, you managed to stand on one foot, keeping the injured one lifted up off the ground. You were panting by the time you got up, pain hindering you more than it normally would have.

Looking down at his desk revealed it to be littered with gadgets and papers, vials full of liquids and scratched out writing in a language you couldn’t read on said papers. You examined some of the items, finding a watch and pens and pencils, a few books in what you assumed was the same language as what was written in his notes, and some dried herbs.

You hopped over to the couch, which upon closer inspection was a recliner, and slowly sat down in it, relishing in the soft cushions and familiarity. It was nice not to be laying on the ground anymore—which made you wonder where exactly his home was located that it had wooden walls and a door but grassy ground, like the forestry just beyond the exit.

You couldn’t get the latch on the side of the couch to work, so you slowly set your foot down and winced at the flare from the shift in position. Your elbow knocked into something on the armrest and you gasped, quickly catching it in your hands before it could tumble to the floor.

It was the book you’d seen Jungkook reading yesterday.

You opened it to where it had been marked, a gold string leaving his place. You pouted when you realized you couldn’t understand anything, but you tried to read the strange sounding words anyway, cocking your head.

Only a few minutes had passed when the door burst open, slamming against the wall, and you flinched harshly, snapping your head up from the yellowing pages to look at the source of the noise.

Jungkook was standing in the doorway, panting.

And he looked furious.

He marched over to the couch, shutting the door behind him with his foot and twisting his hand—you heard the lock click into place even though he hadn’t touched it and your heart leapt into your throat at the recognition of magic. It didn’t take long until he was standing before you, your body trapped on the couch and staring up at him with wide eyes, and he snatched the book from your grasp.

“I told you not to touch anything,” he hissed.

“I only wanted to see what was in the book—”

He made an odd sound, similar to a growl, and tossed the book back toward his bed. Your heart was hammering inside of your chest, loud enough that you were certain he could hear it, and you yelped when he reached down and shoved his hands under your thighs and back.

“What are you doing?!” you shouted, moaning in pain when he lifted you into his arms and the movement jostled your injured limb.

He didn’t answer you, walking a few steps and crouching down, dropping you unceremoniously back in the spot you were before he left in a hurry. You blinked away the tears pricking your eyes as he stood back up, glaring at you with a gaze so menacing it made a chill run down your spine.

“Don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you, human,” he snarled. Without waiting for a reply, he stormed over to his bed further in the home, still completely in your sight as there were no separate rooms or halls, and twisted his wrist as he kicked off his shoes and climbed into his bed. The lights flickered out and you heard him rustling before all was quiet in the small space you shared.

You gnawed on your bottom lip for a few minutes before deciding to try to sleep, laying down on your back and choking back the tears that threatened to break free. You lay awake on the ground for what seemed like hours, listening to the sound of your own breathing and wishing for the comforts of your own home and your own people.

The same routine followed as another two days passed, your hair knotting and your skin irritated. You felt gross with everything sticking to your skin, unaccustomed to being in the wilderness for so long at once, along with an added shame twisting your insides with every flicker of heat in your body at Jungkook’s touches, his kisses.

You didn’t dare touch his book again, leaving it be and instead focusing on trying to decide what to do. Jungkook had said earlier that it would be the last treatment you needed from him and you could leave whenever you wished.

Which left you with two problems; your foot was still killing you and you had no idea where you even were, let alone knowledge of how to get back home.

You decided to wait for his return, unsure if you would even be able to open his door without him present. You didn’t know what he left to do each day, but curiosity did not win out when you thought of who he was probably meeting—other goblins.

You perked up on the couch when the door opened hours later, the dim light from outside shadowing his figure. Jungkook walked in, handing you some fruit as he had done before, which you gratefully ate. He stretched his arms while you finished and then gave you an inquisitive stare.

“I told you that you could leave,” he said.

“You did,” you replied.

“So why didn’t you?”

You swallowed the remaining bites of fruit, fidgeting awkwardly. “I don’t know where I am,” you told him. “And my ankle still hurts. I suspect it’s broken.”

He hummed, walking over to stand in front of you and then crouching down so his head was level with your lap. He dragged his fingers down your leg, eyes flitting up to meet yours, his gaze heavy on yours. You hissed when his fingers pushed gently on your ankle. “Probably,” he murmured, the corner of his lips twitching up.

“You healed the poison,” you started, keeping your voice low.

“Mhm,” he agreed, letting his gaze wander back down your body as his fingers caressed your ankle, tugging your shoe and sock off.

“Can’t you heal my foot too?” you whispered.

He snapped his gaze back up to your face, his eyes twinkling and his mouth spreading into a grin. “I can,” he said easily. Before you could ask him to do it, he suddenly held your ankle in his grip, pain shooting up your calf. You let out a strangled noise, your instinct to remove your limb from his grasp but he wouldn’t allow you to. He pulled himself up to his knees, sliding his torso between your legs quickly. “But that kind of favor is one that comes with a price,” he continued, voice pitched low and deep.

“What kind of price?” you asked. You swallowed past the lump forming in your throat, the grip he had around your ankle still spreading sparks of pain through your leg.

Jungkook leaned in closer, the tip of his nose barely brushing against yours as he whispered his price. “You.”

“What do you mean?”

“One night,” he told you. The smile was still present on his face, his eyes dark and every touch of skin releasing sparks in your veins. “Your body.”

You licked your lips and your stomach twisted with satisfaction when his eyes darted down to watch the movements of your tongue. “I thought you said you didn’t like the idea of a human in your bed,” you breathed, biting down on your bottom lip.

“You don’t have to,” he commented. His hand’s loose hold on your ankle remained and his other hand came up to your face to tuck it behind your ear, letting his finger tips graze the outside of your ear. “The price for your ankle has been set. Take it or leave it.” His look was steady, the smile gone from his face, as he spoke. “It is your choice.”

Your heart was hammering into your ribs, the arousal heating your body and drowning out the shame at the attraction you felt for him. You couldn’t think about what your family and friends would think of you, you didn’t care about how people treated sympathizers—all you knew in that moment was that you wanted Jungkook, wanted more of his skin on yours, his mouth all over you; you wanted everything.

“I’ll pay the price,” you whispered to him, surging forward and pressing your mouth to his. He made a muffled sound against you and then he was pushing forward, nipping at your bottom lip and licking into your mouth as his grip on your ankle tightened to an almost painful degree. You cried out against his lips, heat building in your foot—and then it was gone, leaving a dull throb as pleasure ran up your calf. You gasped into his mouth, kissing him back fervently and tangling your hands in his dark hair while his own hands ran up your legs to your thighs.

He stood up, pulling away from you abruptly, and held out his hands for you. Slipping your hands into his, you let him pull you up from the couch, and he led you over to the unmade bed, where he gently pushed you to sit down on it. He followed after quickly, towering his body over yours before he kissed you again, trailing chaste pecks all the way down your throat to your collarbone as he tugged your tattered skirt up your body. His hands moved to your blouse, ripping it halfway down to expose your breasts to him.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled into your skin, trailing his mouth down your chest to the top of your breast. You arched your back and threw your head back as he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, sucking and licking it as his hand kneaded your other breast.

His free hand trailed down to your belly, slipping it under the remains of your shirt to caress the skin before slipping down to your thighs and sliding up to your soaked panties. He yanked them down to your knees in one go, growling against your skin as he pulled back from your chest, sniffing loudly and moaning softly. He met your eyes and your cheeks felt warm, thighs attempting to close to subside the ache that had begun between them.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled, shifting back on the bed and using both hands to spread your thighs apart at the knees, the strength he used ripping your panties. He tossed them aside without another thought. You bit down on your lip hard enough to break the skin and tasted copper in your mouth while you watched him stare at you. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how aroused you got during your treatments,” he said, a sly smile spreading on his face as he met your eyes for a brief second before focusing back down between your legs.

Jungkook ducked down iirmmediately, not even giving you a second to prepare yourself before he was nosing at you, the tips of his ears brushing your inner thighs as he licked a stripe up your slit. Your legs were pinned down by his hands as he continuously licked up your slick, the vibrations from his moans making your hands shake as they found purchase in his dark hair. His fingers dug into your skin as his mouth worked on you, tongue dipping into your entrance and making you mewl. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it hard a few times before he detached himself from you, propping himself up on his knees and leaving you sopping and aching for more.

“Will you be a good girl and suck my cock?” he purred, eyes hooded as he changed positions, sitting properly and spreading his legs apart. You nodded your head immediately, sitting up and crawling between his legs, undoing his pants as he praised you softly. He was hard and you shoved your tongue into your cheek as you tugged him out of his pants, eyes widening at his size. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “I know you can take it all, baby.”

You rubbed your thighs together as you took the head into your mouth, sucking hard and looking up at Jungkook through your lashes. He breathed out harshly and placed his hand on the back of your head softly, looking down at you and gnawing on his plump bottom lip. You focused on pleasuring him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick as you worked on it, sucking and bobbing your head lower. You managed to fit most of it in your mouth when his hips jerked and the head hit the back of your throat. You gagged briefly and swallowed hard around him, making him groan loudly in response before pulling you off of him by your hair. You detached from him with an obscene popping sound and when you met his eyes, they were dark and the pupils were blown so wide you could barely see the brown of his irises.

He held your head up by your hair and you blinked owlishly, licking your lips and feeling the precum and saliva smeared across your mouth and chin. Jungkook made an animalistic sound and pounced on you, pushing you to your back on his bed and pushing his mouth on yours, licking into it hotly and fitting his hips between your legs. His cock pushed against your folds, sliding in the slick of your arousal and spit. The head rubbed your clit a few times and you wrapped your legs around his hips to bring him closer, fisting the sheets in your hands and moaning brokenly into his mouth.

“Please fuck me,” you breathed, pushing your chest into his and hissing with pleasure as the rough material of his shirt rubbed against your nipples. He bit down on your lip and moved to your jaw, kissing and nipping as he brought a hand down to grip himself and line the head up with your entrance.

He rubbed the head against your slit a few times, breathing roughly into your neck as he ducked his head to watch. “You’re so wet, all for me,” he mumbled. “How badly do you want my cock?”

“So bad,” you keened. “I want it so bad, fuck me, please—”

He thrusted in harshly, cutting you off with a startled gasp as his cock stretched your walls. He was halfway in and rocked his hips gently, pushing a little deeper with each thrust. You swallowed roughly and gripped his arms tightly in your hands, fisting his sleeves as you clenched around him.

“Relax,” he said. “Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head, screwing your face up as you tried to rock your own hips. “No, just—you’re so big.”

He huffed a laugh as he continued to roll his hips until he was fully inside of you, cock nestled in your folds and skin sticking to yours. You were so wet and aroused you could hear the sounds even as he barely moved, only grinding his hips into yours as your walls adjusted.

You managed to relax, but it lasted merely a second as he felt your walls unclench and his hand dipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it mercilessly as he pulled halfway out and shoved back inside. He kept up his brutal pace, fingers digging into your clit without pause as he moved. Your moans were so loud you would’ve been embarrassed had you not completely given in to the pleasure, pressure building in your abdomen.

He bit down on the juncture of your shoulder hard and your body couldn’t handle it, your orgasm hitting you fast and harshly. You’d never felt this much pleasure from a man before and you knew you’d never be able to sleep with any man again without comparing them to Jungkook. He kept rolling his hips into yours, helping you through your orgasm until you winced. He held himself still inside you and you could feel his cock throbbing, hard and hot within your walls. Your sporadic squeezing around him made him twitch and you mewled at the feeling of it.

After a minute of labored breathing and stillness, he pulled back slowly and began a much gentler pace, thrusting his cock into you slowly before pulling it out to the head and repeating. You whimpered, but then his fingers were tapping your abused clit and your breath hitched, your back arching as the pain turned into pleasure.

“You’re going to come again for me,” he demanded, licking the spot he’d bitten. “You’re so tight and so warm,” he continued, moaning as his thrusts picked up speed. “You’re never going to want anyone but me.” His cock was shoving in and out of you quicker and quicker, the head rubbing against your sweet spot and making you see stars. You brought your arms around his shoulders and dragged a hand into his hair, gripping it tight as you keened loudly, bucking your hips against his in search of release. “You’ll never be able to fuck anyone, touch anyone else, without thoughts of me. That’s your price to pay,” he mumbled into your skin. You were barely coherent, muttering nonsense as he gave a particularly well-aimed thrust and the head of his cock brushed your g-spot again, his fingers pinching your clit harshly, and your pleasure washed over you even more intensely than the first time.

As you rode out your high, Jungkook’s movements became erratic and his thrusts grew sloppier as he chased his own high, moving his hand away from your clit to grasp at the bedsheets on both sides of your head. Your chest heaved as you clenched tighter around his cock, the lewd noises from where you were joined echoing throughout his home and flushing your face red.

Your hand in his hair worked gently as he shoved into you so hard your body shifted up a few centimeters with every thrust. Your fingers brushed the tips of his pointed green ears and his entire body tensed, a startled noise tearing itself from his throat as he stilled inside of you, hunching his body over yours and resting his forehead on yours as he came. Spurts of come painted your walls as he rolled his hips through his orgasm, his seed filling you up and leaking down to the sheets.

When his cock softened he pulled it out of you, his come slipping out along with it and dirtying you even more. He laid down beside you on the bed, turning his head to look at you. You met his look with your own, smiling weakly at him. He shifted his body to face yours and rested a hand on your thigh. Jungkook watched you carefully as he trailed it up, gathering his dripping come and shoving it back inside you with his fingers. You whined and clenched around his fingers as he repeated the action a few dozen times before relenting, bringing his hand up to your mouth and smearing the come on his fingers on your mouth before leaning in to kiss you deeply.

Neither of you said anything as he grabbed the rumpled blanket and brought it up to cover the both of you. He fell asleep quickly afterwards, one arm draped across you; but you lay awake, body trembling and rolling your freshly healed ankle a few hundred times before you could even think to sleep.

You awoke a handful of hours later, Jungkook sleeping soundlessly beside you as he had been when you finally let yourself slip into a restless sleep. You lay in his bed for a few more moments as your heart pounded in your chest and you decided it was time to leave. Your thoughts were threatening to drown you as you slipped out of his bed and out from under his arm carefully, fixing your clothes as well as you could.

You faced Jungkook again, biting the inside of your cheek as you leant down and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for everything,” you whispered, knowing he’d never know just what he’d done for you. It was really a shame that he was a goblin and you were a human—the butterflies bombarding your belly every time you looked at him had grown in the past few days and you wished you could spend more time getting to know him, maybe even growing to—

You shook your head, getting rid of the thoughts plaguing your mind quickly. You grabbed your bag, which had been thrown to the side by the desk, and pulled it over your shoulder. You decided to grab his small blanket off the couch, wrapping the prickly material around your frame to cover your torn shirt and keep you warm when you ventured outside in search of your home. Before you left, your eyes caught on his book, sitting on the arm of the recliner. In a split second decision, you gently pushed it into your bag, looking back at Jungkook to make sure he hadn’t woken up.

He was still asleep, his chest moving up and down peacefully and undisturbed.

You slowly made your way to the wooden door, the lock seeming nonexistent as you pushed it open slowly and walked out into the brightly lit forest. You came out of a tree trunk and you marveled at it—goblin magic really was amazing, more so than you’d ever heard or learned about in school. When the door shut, it dematerialized until there was nothing left but the hollow tree trunk. Your lips parted in wonder and you rushed back in but saw no signs of a goblin home anywhere.

Shaking your head, you dragged yourself away from the tree and started to make your way through the forestry, an unusual feeling tingling in your limbs; you had no idea where you were or where you were going, but it was as if your body knew on its own where it was headed.

Before long, you saw the edges of your home village and a smile tugged at your lips as you rushed toward it, running down the hilly grass and jostling your bag against your thigh. You ran through the town, ignoring the villagers cries at your reappearance as you reached your own home, the door shut and the lights inside on. You knocked on the door excitedly and when the door opened to reveal Namjoon, his own appearance looking worn down, your face broke out with a huge grin.

“____!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. You threw your arms around him, beyond relieved that you’d come home to him and that his was the first familiar face you saw. “We thought you went missing and something happened, you—you didn’t come home for days!”

“I’m okay,” you said, smiling into his skin. You pulled away from the hug, though his hands remained on your back. “I got lost but—I found my way back home.”

Namjoon ushered you into your home to see your family again, your mother shouting and crying as she wrapped you up in her arms so tight you could barely breathe as you laughed her worry off.

The book in your bag felt heavier, its presence burning against your thigh. You paid it no mind, smiling and waving your family’s concern away as Namjoon slipped his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers. You grinned at him and tightened your hold on the strap of your bag, thoughts of the goblin already swirling through your brain at the touch of another.

all rights reserved © junqkook | 07/18 — no reposting and/or modifying of any form on any medium is allowed. DO NOT RE-IMAGINE THIS UNIVERSE AS YOUR OWN.

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #bangtan x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts #bangtan #jjk #mine* #goblin au #goblin jungkook #goblin bts #supernatural #fantasy #fantasy au #enemies to lovers #e2l #bts fic #bangtan fic #jungkook fic #jungkook scenario

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

He Stayed Quiet

Hey guys!!! So, recently, I listened to a beautiful song by @lovelylangst (seriously, it’s so beautiful I still get goosebumps listening to it, so hit them up if you want to listen to it.)  I wrote down the lyrics at the end, but the words themselves don’t do the song enough justice.

Anyway, I got some of the greatest inspiration to write a little something based off of that song.  And here it is!  I hope y’all enjoy.

(Trigger warning for abuse.)

Being quiet was harder than most people would think.  Especially for Lance, who was always so bubbly and happy and smiling.  If there was noise in the Castle, it was because he was making it.  He couldn’t sneak around the Garrison as Hunk or Pidge could.  He was always the one who bumped into a table, knocked something over, and alerted Iverson or whoever was on duty that there were cadets out after curfew.

He was the one who would get kicked out of the library because he was laughing too hard and too loud.  Yes, Lance, you really are being that loud. Pidge would roll their eyes and say.

He was the person who had no clue how much noise he was actually making.

He was the person who couldn’t quite grasp that whispering and talking were two different things until he was well into fourth grade.  Sometimes distinguishing between yelling and talking were difficult for him.

His entire life, people were always telling him to be quiet: his older siblings, his teachers, his friends, the librarian, his parents, the list goes on and on.  But now, no one was telling him to quiet himself.

Lance was doing it on his own.

Shiro was different.  Lance knew.  He had had his suspicions for a while, but now that Shiro was getting more violent, it was getting harder and harder to believe that he hadn’t been changed by his second stay with the Galra.  Maybe Keith had been Shiro’s impulse control, but the possibility of Keith being anyone’s impulse control was laughable.

It first happened when Lance had interrupted the black paladin in the middle of a strategy meeting.  There was a flaw in the plan that could have caused Pidge to become overrun if they weren’t paying attention at the exact right moment.  He didn’t even realize that Shiro had been talking until the damage was already done.

The Galran arm’s metal fingers were digging into the meat of Shiro’s bicep.  There was murder in the dark-grey eyes currently trying to bore a hole through the red paladin.  Lance had never before felt so small, so insignificant, and so inconsequential.

That mission had gone by without a hitch.  Pidge’s infiltration went effortlessly well, and they were able to avoid the guards that undoubtedly would have caught them otherwise.  Lance was feeling pretty good about himself.  He was laughing loudly with Hunk about some story that Coran was telling them.  Neither of them knew exactly what was being described, but the faces that the Altean was making and the sound effects he was somehow generating had them howling with laughter.

Pidge had come in somewhere in the middle of the story, and they had laid their head on Lance’s lap.  They silently thanked him with their eyes and didn’t protest when the red paladin ruffled their already ruffled hair playfully.

Allura entered not long after, and her eyes lit up when she heard Coran’s story.  She interjected her own points every few words.  Her eyes lit up in pure joy; not even Lance’s cheesy flirting could bring her down.

All good and happy things had to come to an end, however.  Lance excused himself to take care of business.  Pidge hissed when their head fell to the cushion, its pillow having left.  They glared good-naturedly at him as he rounded the corner, a smile still on his face when he ran into a wall of muscle.

Shiro stood in his way, his arms were crossed in front of his chest, with his prosthetic in front.  That was new.  Usually, his other arm hid the metal one from view as if he were ashamed of it.  His face was as hard as the metal posing as flesh.

The black paladin was taller than the others by a few inches at the most -excluding Pidge- but now, Lance felt like he needed to look two feet above himself just to look the team leader in the eyes.

“Lance!  You’re just the person I was looking for!”  His voice wasn’t normal.  It wasn’t robotic, but the enthusiasm seemed incredibly forced and insincere.  The casual ups and downs of his voice were the same, but they still weren’t right.

Lance kept the smile plastered to his face from his time with the other paladins.  “Yeah, I just need to run to the restroom really quick; I’ll be right back!”  He pushed past Shiro.  The hallways were tight enough as it was without a giant from one of Coran’s stories blocking his way.

The Galran shot out and grabbed Lance’s upper arm, squeezing tightly and pressing him up against the wall.

“Shiro?  Can this wait for like, two minutes?  I really gotta pee.”  Lance raised an eyebrow at the older man.

Fingers dug further into Lance’s arm, and the tips of his fingers started to tingle slightly.  “I just wanted to thank you.”  Shiro smiled, but the motion didn’t reach his eyes; it barely even reached his mouth.  “For graciously interrupting me during the meeting.  We never would have been able to spot such an obvious and vital problem if it weren’t for you.”

Lance’s dark blue eyes widened slightly.  “Oh, sorry about that.  I’ll be honest I wasn’t listening that closely because I saw-”

“Oh, my mistake,” Shiro said.  His voice was dripping with something that Lance couldn’t quite identify.  “If you weren’t paying attention, I guess all is forgiven.”  His grip hadn’t let up slightly since they started this conversation, and Lance’s hand was beginning to go numb at an alarming rate.

He smiled shyly back at the leader.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, and I really don’t mean to cut this conversation short, but unless you want me to go right here, and right now, I really need to use the restroom.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Shiro spat.  He curled the metal fingers deeper into Lance’s muscles before he released it.

Feeling came back to his arm as blood rushed to where it was supposed to be.  It felt like he had dipped his entire left arm in near-boiling water for a split second and pulled it out just as fast, burning hot then freezing cold.  He massaged the area that Shiro’s hand had dug into as he made his way to the communal toilets.

As soon as he was finished, he rolled his sleeve up to expose the flesh that was already starting to darken from a light brown to a dark black.  He hissed as he felt around the tender skin gently.

It was in the precise shape of a handprint.

The door swung open, and Hunk stuck his head into the room.  “Oh, there you are!”  He laughed.  “We were starting to wonder if you had gotten lost.”  He went to the sink right next to Lance’s to wash his hands.  “I tried to give Pidge a piggy-back ride because Allura and Coran didn’t know what one was, and the little goblin licked me!  Not even slightly.  There was so much tongue and saliva involved.  I am even more terrified of them than I was at the Garrison.”  He raised his eyes to look at Lance through the mirror.  “Woah, where did you get that?”  He gestured vaguely with his chin toward the fresh bruise.

Lance quickly rolled his sleeve down and wracked his brain for an explanation other than ‘Shiro went Alpha on me’ and settled on: “Oh, during the last mission I had a little run-in with a guard.  He caught me a little unaware.  That’s all.”  He threw one of his award-winning smiles in the mix as well.

Hunk pouted his lip out slightly and looked skeptically at his friend in the mirror.  “Why didn’t you say anything?  That looks pretty rough.”

“It’s nothing.  I’m sure I’ll be fine soon enough.”  He smiled and slapped Hunk’s shoulders.  “Now what do you say we show the Princess and Coran what a real piggyback ride looks like?”

Things weren’t fine soon enough.  During training sessions, Shiro would hit him a little too hard a little too often.  The handprint on his arm had taken two weeks to heal.  For those two weeks, he had trouble aiming his bayard, and it showed.  He almost hit Pidge rather than the console that he was supposed to be hitting.  He did hit Hunk instead of a training bot one day.

Shiro hit him harder, more often.

Once, when Lance found himself on the ground, he pushed himself up and felt something in his chest snap.  A broken rib, he was told.

He really should take it easy on those missions, and not get himself hurt.

It became rare to see Lance without any blemishes on his once pristine and perfect skin.  He never wore short-sleeved shirts anymore, not that he had in the first place, but he started making sure that that’s all his wardrobe consisted of anymore.  He asked Coran for concealer after he ‘ran into a doorframe’ and he was cursed with a black eye.

Pidge just rolled their eyes because ‘they knew he was clumsy, but this is a new level, Lance.’

One by one, they all slowly stopped noticing every new injury that Lance was sporting.

One by one, they stopped noticing how Lance would never speak at team meetings anymore.

One by one, they stopped caring.

And through it all, the hurts, the bruises, and the false smiles, Lance stayed quiet.

Thank you so much for reading this; I really hope you like it!

Here’s the song that this was based off of, but seriously, hit them up to listen to them singing it.  You won’t regret it.

I stayed quiet

I didn’t tell a single soul

I stayed quiet

And its the truth I hold

I let you bruise me

I let you break

And I stayed quiet

With the force it takes

I didn’t want to sully

Ruin your good name

So I stayed quiet, once again

Oh, I stayed quiet*

I made it my place*

I stayed quiet*

Even though it was fake*

I stayed quiet*

Ruin my name*

I stayed quiet*

From all the things I could say*

I stayed quiet*

Oh, I stayed quiet*

Yes, I stayed quiet*

Oh, I stayed quiet*

You ask me why* I stay quiet*

Is cuz I-I* had to deny* it

If I did it, I would end up

Like that girl, you left*

Buried in the dirt*

I stayed quiet*

Yes, I stayed quiet*

Oh, I stayed quiet*

Yes, I stayed quiet*

I stayed quiet

Didn’t ruin your name

Didn’t sully your fame

Didn’t take the blame

I stayed quiet

And in return

All I do is get hurt

#langst #lance #angst #shiro #pidge #hunk #vld #voltron #my writing #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #katie holt #hunk garret #allura #coran #dark shiro #lance vld #hunk vld #shiro vld #pidge vld #vld lance #vld pidge #vld shiro #oneshot #fanfiction

[vesperlionheart]

Pompeii Chapter 21

After the Goblin Market Sakura was surprised she was as tired as she was. Ino had told her that might happen, some people got sicker than others, and first timers were especially susceptible to the extra drain Sakura was feeling. She sank into the flush of her couch and let her body sink. It had been hard to keep up with Ino and hide how drained she really was. Ino already felt bad about being absent minded on a few things, Sakura didn’t want to make her friend feel worse about anything else.

‘But aren’t you going to be doing that eventually? You’re such a vapor in comparison to them, smoke in the wind. Their childhoods are longer than our entire lifespan.’

Sakura looked up and blinked. There was no one in the room with her but she knew the voice in her head had no physical body. She sometimes imagined it as a black and white reverse image of herself. It helped to get on top of her depression when her suggestive thoughts had a body.

‘That doesn’t change anything. I’ve not been dishonest with anyone, I’ve never lied to any of them. I can’t change what’s going to happen to me. I’ll age, that’s inevitable.” Sakura focused on the visualization of her thoughts and glared harder. ‘I’m not going to worry about it.’

The black and white reverse image of Sakura shrugged. ‘You’re well loved, but that’s only because you’re so new, you’re an oddity. It’s not because of you. It’s not really about you. You’re just a thing for them to play with; a doll.’

Sakura swallowed and felt for the fabric of her pants, the rough material, the end of her shirt, the skin of her opposite wrists. She smelled the dust and the wood in her home. The old candles still had a lingering scent she could identify. She was in her home and she was safe.

‘I know my own worth and it’s not dependent on anyone else’s attention or interest. I know my worth and it has not diminished.” She remembered the attention and the flattering memories and stepped on top of them. “I can’t control what anyone else thinks or does, but I am my own person with my own worth.’

‘You’re sort of a terrible doctor for this town. You don’t know anything about half these-‘

“That’s enough!” Sakura said out loud.

The image in front of her staggered, flickered, and vanished. She hadn’t been a ghost or a haunting spirit or something magical or supernatural. She didn’t burn up in a blaze of fire or break apart in a ring of salt. She was a symptom of something natural that Sakura wasn’t ashamed to admit to anymore.  

She had always had issues with feelings of self worth, stemming back to when she was a child too eager to please in a classroom with too many kids, in a family with too little time, in a relationship with too little love. But, she was a doctor and she had a name for what she fought. This didn’t make her broken and this didn’t make her any less of a person. Sakura knew her worth. She knew she was better than her worst thoughts and that it wasn’t any good dwelling on her basic fears.  She would save her energies for other battles. Battles with curses and dark magics and things in the woods that didn’t like her for some odd reason.

Sakura sagged down in her seat and felt with her hand for the paper her dreamcatcher had been wrapped with. She heard the crackle before she saw it. Lazy as a housefly, she shifted in her seat and pulled the paper onto her lap and started to tug at the tape. It came away easy enough. The small sounds in the still of her room made the back of her neck tingle. She felt like there was a nest at the base of her brain behind her head that turned happy at the small sounds.

She had burned out all the way like a candle on a stick.

Sakura turned into the couch and hugged the dream catcher to her chest, too tired to hang it. Regardless, her dreams were free of nightmares. Sakura slept soundly through the night for the first time in a long time.

“It’s super fun when we have to treat people who don’t want to be treated,” Sakura sighed with a smile as she sagged down onto the arm of Shizune’s chair. Through the window she watched the fire dwarf stride away with a haughty sort of waddle. Sakura’s grin thinned.

“You should have seen him before with the other doctors. He seemed to like you.”

Sakura snickered. “I ended up yelling at him and he cussed me out more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Shizune chuckled. “That’s how they talk to everyone. But at least he paid. He wouldn’t have done that upfront if he didn’t respect you.” She punched Sakura’s shoulder lightly. “Cheer up, you’re doing great.”

Sakura shook her head. “And to think, when I first got here I was more worried about my bedside manner. I was sort of stiff and thought that would be an issue outside of the city. But now…I just worry about a lot of other different things.”

“You shouldn’t. You’re doing fine. You’re doing better than fine, everyone loves you!”

Sakura thinned her lips and narrowed her eyes in a disbelieving way.

The conversation broke with a cry from the doorway closest to the main street. Sakura sat up in her seat, wondering if the sound was meant for her office or the dentist’s office next door. They shared a walkway on the main street entrance and were close enough that they could hear each other on occasions.

“I think that’s next door.” Shizune stood up however and held a hand up to her chin, listening harder. “Oh.”

“What?”

Shizune shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s for next door, but I don’t know how they’ll manage with the way he’s carrying on. Ino’s with him, so they should be okay…”

Sakura started trotting towards the door and reached for it, peeking out and seeing a tussle between three people on the sidewalk. She had to blink because two people looked like clones of each other. Ino and Kimimaro were easy enough to pick out, but there was a third member that looked way too much like Ino for it to be a coincidence. Both had long blond hair pulled up in ponytails and wide blue eyes…or eye? She only saw one on the man.

“I already told you I’m not going in there. I don’t trust him!”

“You have to,” Ino hissed back. “You’re sick!”

The dentist was struggling to help the pair inside but didn’t say anything until Ino slipped. He moved to catch her and the male started to slip free. He took a few steps and then staggered, clutching his wrist. Sakura saw this and started trotting down the steps to help him. His hand was bandaged and seeping red.

“You’re hurt.”

He glared up at her, wincing in pain. “No shit lady, what are you, some sorta doctor, un?”

Sakura didn’t recognize him but realized this was because they had never met. It was something that made her pause and blink. “Yeah, I’m the new doctor here. You need a doctor?”

The male stilled and looked up at her, almost not believing her. But then Ino came up alongside him and grabbed him in a big bear hug that was more of a grapple.

“Sakura, don’t let him get away!” Ino called before completing her grapple. “Get back here Deidara! You need to see someone about this.”

“I’m not going to that damn dentist I’m going to see this doctor!” The blond struggles, but was still in pain by the way he held his bandaged, bleeding hand.

Sakura looked up at Kimimaro who looked more haggard than anything. He shot her a pleading look that she understood. Both had taken oaths to do their best and help to the best of their ability and do no harm.

“Come inside, Ino bring him, I’ll see what I can do.”

Sakura waved them both in and to her great relief they both complied without issue. Kimimaro trailed behind them and paused next to Sakura.

“You’ll need my help in there to know what to do, but will you treat him? There was an incident several decades ago and he doesn’t like me very much.”

Sakura didn’t want to pry but nodded and resolved to ask about it later. “Sure, get in and tell me what he needs. It was his hand that looked hurt, not his teeth.”

Kimimaro sighed. “Well, you’ll see what I mean in a moment.”

Sakura went in before him and saw Shizune usher the pair into an empty room and glare at Kimimaro as he entered. Sakura wanted to ask even more but kept it to herself. She rolled her shoulders and followed them into the room, trailing after the older blond’s cursing for Ino to get out and leave him alone.

“I-I’ll be outside then, I’ll wait, you’ll be fine.”

Ino looked to Sakura, nodding, before backing out of the room. Kimimaro waited on the threshold and Sakura winced. She would call for him if she needed him, but if Deidara didn’t want him near, Sakura couldn’t allow it.

‘You’re not even a good doctor.’

Sakura looked back to the blond and nodded. “Your name?”

The hair in his face his one of his eyes and was stuck with cold sweat to his skin, but she could see some sort of device, like a metal patch, over the obscured socket peeking through the strands. Still, he looked up at her and seemed to take in the entirety of her before swallowing and offering up a name.

“Deidara.”

His name felt heavy, like it was supposed to mean something, but she didn’t know what. All she could do was smile and try to make him feel safe.

“It’s nice to meet you, Deidara. I’m Sakura, the new doctor around here. I’m still meeting new people all the time so bear with me if I ask you your name again or mess up the pronunciation. I’ve gotten chewed out for that once already today,” she said with a chuckle, thinking back to the dwarf and his seven word name.

He swallowed again and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve not see you before, un.”  

“Yeah, I still get that. What can I help you with today? You looked a little in pain when we brought you in.” Sakura started to reach for his hand, the one bandaged and seeping, but stopped. Her fingers hovered in place as she waited till his eyes met hers. “May I?”

He offered her his hand and started unwrapping for her. She picked up the bandage and finished the process, wincing when she saw the dark color stains that told her this was a long term injury, or one that had been hurting him for a while. The blood was old and smelled.

There was a long line draw horizontally across his palm and she suspected it of being the cause of it all before the line shifted, turned out, and the barest hint of lip began to show, followed by a gaping mouth complete with teeth and a tongue. The blood was coming from the gum under his upper canines where a long gash had failed to heal. He needed oral stitches in his mouth, explaining Kimimaro.

“Oh my, that looks nasty,” Sakura murmured, taking his hand and drawing it closer. “Can you tell me how this happened or what was used?”

She waited a moment, studying it further before having to look up when she heard no answer. Deidara was watching her, brows drawn, expression pensive. He swallowed again and Sakura started to get the impression that he was nervous around her.

“I’m sorry if I’m being rude or invasive. I just need to ascertain the nature of this injury and your cooperation would be helpful, but if you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to.”

She still held his hand in hers and that’s where his focus seemed to stay. When he spoke he didn’t meet her eyes. “It was a fall. I just fell and I tried to catch myself and it was open and it hurt so I bandaged it and came to Ino to see if she could help me, but she tried to take me to the dentist.”

“That’s where you’re supposed to go. Oral surgery is what they’re known for. I could stitch you up, but I’d probably need his guidance and help so that I do it properly. Honestly I’m not the most confident in my ability to do this sort of work but I’ll do what I can and stay here if that’s what you want.”

“I-I don’t trust that guy.”

Sakura stirred in Sakura’s chest and she had the suspicion that there was a story there, but clamped down on that feeling hard because now was not the right time to be nosy and ask around. It didn’t matter what these people meant to each other. She had a job to do.

“If you feel that way I won’t leave you alone with him, but I do need his help for this. Will you allow that?”

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze with his own and she heard a muffled whirring, like tiny gears shifting. She saw behind his long blond bang the surface of his metal patch shifting.

“You won’t leave?”

“I swear you won’t be alone with him. I’ll be here the whole time, and I can have Ino stay in the room as well if that’s what you want.” Ino would have to wash up and prep, but Sakura was only doing minor surgery. Ino wouldn’t be an issue.

Deidara frowned. “No, she can stay out there, she’d just distract everyone with her loud mouth.”

“That’s fine. I’m going to find the dentist and have a word with him. He’ll likely need his tools so it will be a few minutes. When I come back I’ll prep the area as best I can and get you comfortable. Wait for me here and don’t move.”

Sakura started to take her gloves off and toss them into the trash on the way out, satisfied with his weak nod. In the waiting room she found Ino but no Kimimaro. Sakura looked around but couldn’t catch sight of him. Had he gone back already?

“Where did he go?” she asked Ino.

For her part, Ino looked a little shell shocked. “He-he was I think he went to talk to Shizune. I think he just went into your office looking for her.”

Sakura nodded, but kept the frown off her face when she heard plates and forks being moved around from the kitchen area where Shizune was taking her lunch break. It didn’t make sense for Kimimaro to go anywhere else looking for the other woman.

“I’m going to need his help for the surgery. Thankfully it’s minor and nothing needs extensive work, but it’s oral so I do need a dentist to help keep me from making any mistakes. He agreed to have Kimimaro help, but I will be staying in the room the whole time. Will you be fine waiting out here until it’s done?”

“Yeah, that’s no-not a problem. Should I get food, will it take a while?”

“If you haven’t had lunch you should do that, it does no one any good for you to get a sugar low because you denied yourself food in your fretting. It’ll be a while for us to start and for the numbing to set in, so go eat.”

Sakura estimated the whole procedure taking about half an hour, but it could go longer or shorter depending on factors. She had never done something like this before. Would the numbing medication work on a mouth set in someone’s hand? Could he feel pain there?

“I need to speak to our dentist. Go eat, take care of yourself,” Sakura urged, holding onto her friend’s arm and giving it a little squeeze. Ino nodded at the contact and followed Sakura’s advice a moment later.

Sakura turned to see Kimimaro coming out of her office with a confused look on his face.

“You get lost?” she teased.

“I suppose it does no good admitting to it now. Have you see the situation for what it is?” he asked, stepping closer to her.

“I understand what you meant when he said I’d need you. There's a large gash in the gum of his hand’s mouth. Can you bring your tools over and be prepared in ten minutes?”

“I can do it in seven.”

Sakura nodded. “Good, I’ll start getting him numb.”

She stepped back into her room as the white haired dentist took off for his own office, intent on getting his necessary tools.

“Deidara?” she asked as she stepped into the room. “We’re going to start soon. Does the area feel pain right now?”

The blond nodded. “A little. It was worse when it happened. It’s not as bad now.”

Sakura hummed, filing away that information for later as she sat down to clean the site once more as best she could. Sakura had an oral form of numbing cream she pasted over the wound site, but it would be close to ten minutes before the area became unfeeling.

‘But that’s for a normal mouth.’

“Deidara,” Sakura called. When he looked up at her she continued. “I’m going to prod the area and I need you to tell me how sensitive you are to the touch.”

He nodded and Sakura began to investigate the area. “Can you feel that?”

“Not really. I mean, I see you poking it, but it feels too tingly from your gel to tell.”

The door behind her opened as Kimimaro stepped in, followed by Shizune, holding a small container of supplies that were air tight sealed in bags he would need to rip open for one time use. He was putting his scrubs on after pulling them out of an orange bag. They were wrinkly, but Sakura could smell the clean of them when he stepped closer to her.

Deidara tensed at the proximity, but Sakura put herself between him and Kimimaro. She moved her knee to bump Deidara, reminding him she was there and she wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. It was enough to pacify the blond.

“Has he been numbed?” Kimimaro asked, speaking like a professional to her.

“Just with the gel.”

Kimimaro nodded as he prepared a needle that would keep Deidara numb throughout the stitch up. Sakura moved her head so Deidara didn’t have to watch the needle piece his gum and inject the drug that made all his nerve endings forget what pain was.

“Good,” Sakura whispered, her voice muffled thanks to the face mask.

Kimimaro was wearing a mask over his face as well, but when he looked to her, his jade green eyes were bright and easy to get lost in. He nodded before reaching for his tools. Sakura kept the area prepped with bracers in Deidara’s mouth, but it was Kimimaro who navigated the sensitive landscape of Deidara’s mouth.

For once it wasn’t Sakura who was responsible for the healing in her office, and it was odd feeling. She was both relieved and embarassed. She wished she could be the person that healed everyone, but she knew she wasn’t always the most qualified. There would be times where she would need to ask for help and accept it.

“You’re doing great,” Sakura murmured softly.

Deidara made a sound of acknowledgment in his throat and Kimimaro looked up at her, reading to add another stitch to the gash. Sakura didn’t clarify who her encouragement was for. They were both doing well.

She felt a tug at the back of her head and cantered her eyes back to see Deidara’s opposite hand reaching for a stray strand that dangled close to his reach. She didn’t move away when he caught it between his thumb and finger, and she didn’t move away when he began to rub it between his two fingers in affection. It seemed to calm him.

“Almost done.” Kimimaro started to tie up the last stitch and stepped back, depositing his tools on the table pulled up to the bed. “Finished,” he breathed.

Deidara looked up and flexed his fingers a bit. The reaction was slow, and Sakura suspected some of the numbing was responsible for that. Still, the blond glared at the dentist like everything was Kimimaro's’ fault.

“I’m going to bandage you up,” Sakura interjected, moving back to the site. “Nothing cold and no strenuous activity for the next ten days. You think you can do that?”

Deidara’s attention switched from glaring to soft and attentive. “Yeah, un.”

“Good.”

Sakura started to wrap his hand again, they way it had been when he first came in. This time the bandages were clean and the work was neat. He watched her, ignoring the way Kimimaro slipped out.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here as an option.”

Sakura finished wrapping his hand and taped the end down. She smiled at her work and then at him. “Of course. I only wish I could do more, but I’m not that impressive. Ah, but if you get hurt anywhere else or you’re sick you can come back anytime. For now you just have to believe me when I say I’m a little more useful than this.”

“You did more than you know.”

Deidara held his hand to his chest and let it sag a bit. He tried moving it a bit and then let it rest across his waist. His fingers were still stiff to move, but Sakura assured him that was temporary and would wear off in a few hours.

“Is Ino out there?” he asked suddenly.

Sakura tip toed to the door and looked out. The lobby was empty.

“She’s still at lunch I think. You want me to call her? I’m sure she’d rush back for you. She seemed really worried about you when you both first came in.”

Deidara shook his head and then started to pull himself off the operating chair. “No, I don’t want her worrying about me or following me back. She’s too annoying these days and I just want to be left alone. People can just be so nosy, un. Trees sometimes talk, but they’re easier to get away from than family.”

“Is that the reason I’ve not seen you before in Pompeii? I haven’t been here long, but you weren’t at Founder’s Day, were you?” She tried to think back to all the faces she passed that day. There were a lot, but she was sure she had never seen Deidara before.

“No, I don’t come back into the city so much these days. I-I’m much more suited to keeping to myself. It’s…” he looked away, to the wall, glancing over the health charts, then to the dar sink where metal trays were set up for prep. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry I said this much, but you were just really easy to talk to.”

The last sentence came out with a laugh and even a smile that made Sakura feel a little more at ease. It was great to feel like you helped someone.

“I wish I could do more. If you wanna talk I’m here, if you need patching up I’m here too. If you don’t want Ino tailing you I think I can keep her distracted until then. I’m hoping I’m one of the few people she’d forgive the deception.”

Deidara narrowed his eyes, still grinning. “If you’re the same Sakura from her penpal years I’ll believe it. And don’t think I won’t come back if I need it. It’s nice talking to someone again, someone who’s new. Everyone else here has…”

His words trailed off as he fidgeted with the courage it would take to complete the sentence.

“History?” Sakura offered. Like high school.

“Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it.”

Sakura nodded and Deidara smiled at the way she seemed to understand. She helped him up and finished his paperwork before informing him that her billing expenses would be channeled through Kimimaro, since he did most of the actual work. Deidara let her know that an invoice could be sent to Ino’s father and that would be good enough before he set himself out the back. Shizune had helped Sakura through the last leg of it and confirmed that Ino’s father would be good to his word and take care of the expenses.

“You’re not going to ask?” Shizune called after Sakura.

Sakura paused in the doorway to the room Deidara had just left. There were things that still needed cleaning.

“Maybe one day I will, but right now, I’m much too content with being a person he trusted enough to be helped by.” Sakura let her shoulders sag as she glanced back at the older woman. “I’m here to help, remember?”

#Pompeii #weird Wednesdays #Sakura #Deidara #kimimaro #Ino #stuff is happening #yah #it's a new stud muffin in the oven #but plot stuff is happening too #Sakura has feelings and she deals with them #but she still has them #not all pain can be magic-ed away #but we can try #Pompeii isn't done with her yet #still more to come #bad guy on the rise #but you can't see him #no #they're cute