#And they’re scandalized and disgusted every time

[stuckinapril]

usamericans stop accusing arabs or anyone for that matter of violence and immorality when it's not even rare to find examples of that exact violence and immorality in america challenge (failed)

“when it’s not even rare to find examples of that exact violence and immorality in america” <- lmao literally… if we want to talk about domestic violence and barbaric men maybe let’s start w the us

[misojunnie]

i find the vampire and werewolf rivalry dynamic really funny for whatever reason, so may i request some &team hcs with a friend/partner who’s a vampire while they’re… yknow, werewolves?

oh the shenanigans they would get up to

☆ &team as your werewolf bf! w/ a vampire partner ;)

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ʚϊɞ.

byun eui joo - ej

wasn't really objected to you being a vampire tbh. if anything, he was kinda interested

the quiet, kind-hearted typa guy to be like "it doesn't matter if we're different species, love is love, right?"

crazy clingy, and loves your fangs. he has fangs himself, but they're nowhere near as sharp and long as yours are. he loves admiring them when you smile and when he kisses you

loves that you're a vampire. it took zero time to get used to it

by now he knows all your needs by heart <3

murata fuma - fuma

shocked to discover you were a vampire, but not necessarily unhappy about it

when other werewolves are around you, his protective instincts kick in immediately and he's ready to die to protect you

you tried to hide your relationship for a while, but he gave up quick

he couldn't help it, he always wanted to show you off <3

rolls his eyes when you hiss at his werewolf friends (who aren't exactly fond of you)

koga yudai- k

considering how passionately khan hates vampires, I think k would probably share that trait tbh

was heartbroken when he realized you were one of his mortal enemies. it took him months to recover

but once he got adjusted to it, he could give a fuck what other people think

he proudly shows you off, even around the other werewolves. he doesn't care what they say, and if they threaten you? he won't hesitate to rough them up

drags a dead deer home every week or so, so you can feed <3

wang yixiang- nicholas

was shocked when he found out the cutie in his chem class was actually a vampire, AKA his worst enemy

he was disgusted. he's a prideful guy, so it took him a long time to accept that he was in love with a literal vampire (he couldn't stay away and ended up apologizing with a cute date <3)

secretly loves it when you bite him (teehee)

when you fight, expect fangs out and full blown screaming matches fueled by millennia of ancestral beef. lmao

"you think i'm high maintenance? try dating someone who literally lives off sucking life force!"

nakakita yuma - yuma

scandalized by the fact that you're a vampire. you told him after you started dating, and he had to break up with you for 2 weeks as a grieving period

the adjustment period was long, but now he knows just about everything there is to know about vampires

always ready to debate vampire/werewolf history with you

"uh, no. the battle of 1824 was obviously the vampires' fault. you broke the peace treaty, not us."

always puts on dracula because he thinks it's your favorite movie. it totally isn't, but he means well, so you don't tell him otherwise

asakura jo - jo

figured out you were a vampire like three weeks before you broke the news. he decided to stay with you anyway bc he doesn't really care what the other werewolves think

brings you coffee when you crave blood bc he thinks it'll help

you're the extroverted drama queen and he's the stoic, introvert bf

is very in tune to your needs, and won't hesitate to kill a literal human being to satisfy you (you tell him not to, though)

"I know you're a vampire, but you need to get your blood lust in control. I'm your boyfriend, not a piece of meat."

shigeta harua - harua

when you told him you were a vampire, he listened to his pack and dumped you, but followed his heart since and won you back <3

like ej, very in tune to your needs and wants

comes back from "hanging with the boys" carrying a huge dead deer/cow/etc, covered in blood with a huge smile on his face

"I brought dinner! do you like it?" "it's definitely bloody..."

all in all, he just wants to make sure you're feeling comfortable and happy <3

ta-ki

didn't really care that you were a vampire. k initially gave him flack, but he ignored it until his friends gave up

sunshine x sunshine protecter irl. he's just happy to be there, and you're ready to kill for him, need be

but watch out; insulting you is a one way ticket to seeing his dark side (even if you're his friend/one of his kind)

loves double dates, and even introduced some of his werewolf friends to your vampire friends. you two singlehandedly repair the relationship of the species in your city <3

hirota riki - maki

did not gaf that you're a vampire. loves you too damn much to care what species you are

loves bear hugs, but constantly underestimates his inhuman strength. will try to hug you and accidentally tackle you

gets crazy sassy with you when you argue, eg; "don't bare your fangs at me while i'm speaking."

loves running away with you at night to hunt, wander the streets, and generally fuck around. midnight walks are his favorite, and luckily he never has to worry about being cautious during the night, considering you're both the strongest beings on the planet

locks himself in his room during full moons bc he gets embarrassed about transforming in front of you lol

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ʚϊɞ.

a/n: omg this was so cute... I usually struggle with the werewolf stuff bc it annoys me so bad but this was actually rlly fun... maybe i'm warming up to the werewolf concept 🤔😇

[cuddle-butch]

My current obsession is Quinn from potionomics, I finished the game the other day and I’m just in love with their character. There’s a pitiful lack of Potionomics fanfiction and not enough Quinn to satisfy my need for more. For now, Quinn headcanons (mostly QuinnxSylvia relationship)! Perhaps I’ll write some Quinn X Sylvia or Quinn-centric fanfiction :)

•As their relationship with Sylvia progresses, Quinn makes some genuine attempts at finding suitable pet names to call their girlfriend.

•they choose potion-related nicknames because they’re very proud of her profession as a potion-maker.

• “Fire-tonic, cuz you’re hot”

• When Quinn is feeling low-energy, they can always be revived by a kiss from their lover

• They absolutely steal Sylvia’s casual clothes all the time. Sylvia loves it, she thinks it’s the cutest thing and is extra touchy when Quinn is wearing her clothes.

• Sylvia is the only person allowed to call Quinn nicknames/pet names. Everyone else gets cursed or yelled at

• Quinny, Q, Babe, Handsome, Pretty Voy (short for clairvoyant)

• Whenever Quinn comes to visit Sylvia at the shop, they always spend a couple minutes talking to and petting Vendi, she’s a good girl!

• Boxer stays outside with Vendi when Quinn finally goes inside, he likes to snuggle up to her while he waits for his owner.

• Quinn hates when people call boxer “Vendi’s little boyfriend” (because people are weird and they do that to animals all the time) they immediately act very disgusted and enraged.

• “Excuse YOU, they are SIBLINGS”

• Quinn absolutely claims the mimics as them and Sylvia’s children, and eventually Sylvia warms up to calling them her kids too

• Refers to Sylvia as “mom” when talking to Boxer, gets really flustered when Oswald or Roxanne happen to hear. Oswald usually just kinda smirks to himself and then pokes fun at Sylvia once Quinn leaves.

•Roxanne is not so kind. She will tease Quinn and Sylvia until Sylvia practically begs her to go back to the basement. “already have kids together and you’re not even married, how scandalous!”

• Quinn sings Sylvia to sleep when she has a rough night, it calms her down every time

[mejcinta]

I love how the hotd writers did everything they could to brush over the fact that daemon likes ***really young girls. There was one line at the first ep where mysaria suggests she can send a maiden for him, but that’s it. Daemon has CONSISTENTLY been going after very young girls - Rhaenyra, Laena, and now nettles. I can’t draw any conclusions yet but I’m sure they’re going to age her up to her 20’s.

This. Wherever in F&B there's clear indication of moral rot on the Blacks' side, this is cut off completely or just lightly brushed and not made obvious, like in Daemon's scene with Mysaria.

However, with Aegon everything is made clear as day for the world to perceive, interpret and (rightfully) rebuke. Also, remember that those claims came from MUSHROOM of all people, who wasn't even in King's Landing at the time. But the writers have certainly made it a trend to make every dark, twisted and disgusting heresy from Mushroom true for the Greens and rarely, if ever, the Blacks.

As for Netty, they have definitely aged her up, just like they did Rhaenyra when she had her first sexual encounter with Daemon. So there's that. I'm literally holding my breath wondering if they'll even ever address Nettles and Daemon's 'scandalous' relationship, because truly everything the writers do tries to cater to Rhaenyra and Daemon to sanitise them.

Well, we'll just have to wait and see.

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 28

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years by the time his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3. If you don’t want to wait for new chapters, the complete story is on Patreon for only $4 with bonus stories! If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

“You aren’t eating.”

There was a very vivid memory Damián had from when he was young—maybe 12, definitely no older—where his mother dictated the conversation at the dinner table after a trip to see old friends. She spoke with disgust, with disbelief. She hadn’t seen her friends in years, and the ways they had changed had traumatized her.

When she spoke of her friend Kathie, she held out her hands a considerable width apart. Like a fisherman illustrating his imaginary catch.

“Her thighs were this big,” she said. She shook her head. “It was horrible. I don’t know how anyone can abuse their bodies like that.”

If Damián did the retrospection, he would probably consider that one moment to be the start of it all. His own fasting, his own obsession, his disapproval at himself—never directed towards others, though. No matter how bad Damián got, he never pushed his image issue on others. Years later, it was his biggest pride that he could hold that over his mother.

She had always been thin and had always bragged about how thin she was as if it was some grand moral accomplishment. That was how Damián remembered her. Thin. Chic. Always eating yogurt or beginning a new exercise regime. Pilates. Zoomba. Yoga.

The last time he saw her, when she was staring down at him with so much anger, he could only fixate on how her cheekbones protruded beautifully from her face.

When he was caught, naked in bed by her friend, how did he look? Did the friend notice the little puffiness he had gained from a shitty college diet? When she reported it to his mother, Damián hoped that she hadn’t reported that back. Not only was her son gay and a prostitute but was fat.

To that day, years after, he couldn’t remember a single word that came out of her mouth when she disowned him. Just that she looked so gorgeously thin.

Diego reached his hand out across the table and repeated himself. “Marcus, you’re not eating.”

Damián was trying to be better with food. Alex had started to creep into that space in his head, and he could start to remember good memories of pumpkin soup or noodles and feel good about it all. But the past few days, every time he looked at even the smallest morsel, he felt a sinking, guilt-filled rock in his stomach. He only thought about how he left Alex in the Uber on the way back from MoSex.

He smiled up at Diego, twirling his fork over his plate. With most clients, he could fool them. He could push his food around, and they wouldn’t even care. But Diego noticed, and Diego cared.

“I am!” Damián said. He had. He had eaten all of three bites, and he felt absolutely awful about each one. They had made him increasingly ill. “I’m sorry if I’m being a bad sport. I’m just not all that hungry at the moment.”

Diego eyed Damián suspiciously. He stood and walked behind Damián. He laid his hands on Damián’s arms, moving them up and down his biceps. Damián leaned back and let his head fall onto Diegos’ chest.

Diego began unbuttoning his shirt from behind, slowly, one by one. He spread his hands across Damián’s exposed chest and pulled his shirt off his shoulders. Finally. Damián thought he would be stuck at the table forever. What he really needed was Diego’s doting and domineering bedroom attitude. Office attitude. He needed someone to take control of him for an hour.

“Want to take this somewhere?” Damián asked.

“Not yet.”

Diego nudged him forward and Damián, confused, leaned forward until his head was hanging over the table. He was face-to-face with his carbonara. For a moment, he worried Diego was going to shove him into it to force him to eat.

Diego prodded his back. His fingers poked and rubbed where the rug burns had been weeks ago. It was a bit unsexy.

“You’ve healed nicely,” Diego said.

“It wasn’t that bad to begin with.”

Diego hummed. “I must have remembered it being worse. I’m glad I didn’t scar you.”

“I’m tough.”

Diego kissed his shoulder and then on his neck. Damián straightened up and tilted his head up so Diego could kiss more of him.

“I promise I won’t be so rough with you tonight,” Diego said. “Meet me in my study?”

It was a question Damián heard often. There was something so sexy about “study.” He loved it. Diego was great at this sort of pseudo-roleplay.

Diego pulled away, and Damián stood. But when he got to his feet, his vision dimmed and his stomach rolled, and he fell back into his chair. The black wave in front of his eyes lasted longer than it had in a while. He worried that this was it. He was going to faint in front of Diego.

When he could see again, Diego was on his knees in front of him.

His face was so handsome. His hair had been longer in the past. When Damián first met him, it was slicked over and made to look shiny with pomade. Now, hints of white were starting at the temples, and it was cut short.

“Put your head between your knees,” Diego said.

Damián did. He felt cold and shaky. Diego draped his shirt back over him and kept one hand firmly on his arm. It was either fortunate or unfortunate that one of Damián’s most frequent clients was a doctor.

Eventually, Damián felt well enough to sit back up. A headache lingered around his eyes, but he didn’t feel on the verge of death. Diego told him to go slow and looked at him with worried eyes.

“You know,” Diego joked, “if you don’t like my cooking, you could have told me. You didn’t have to faint on me.”

“I didn’t faint.”

“No, but it was close enough.” Diego sat back. He laid a hand on Damián’s knee. “We should call tonight off.”

“No! I can’t cancel on you twice in a row.”

“Damián.” The way Diego said it, his voice low and stern, would have been sexy any other time. And he was using Damián’s real name. That felt scandalous. He had rarely used it since Damián first told him. “I think if I let you continue with our appointments, I would be breaking the Hippocratic Oath.”

“Does the Hippocratic Oath say you can’t have a sex worker over when they’re just a tiny bit unwell?”

“Not in those exact words. But something about having someone perform strenuous activities when they’re unwell feels like it goes against the ‘do no harm’ part.”

Damián had a dozen things he wanted to say, his mood immediately soured. Diego wasn’t his doctor, it was Damián’s choice about whether or not he followed through with a client. He shoved his shirt back on and buttoned it up.

Diego patted his leg. “I think you should try eating a little more tonight.”

It wasn’t any of his business if Damián was eating or not.

“I’m going to leave if you treat me like I’m an invalid,” Damián said.

“Ooh. I haven’t heard that a hundred times from patients.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me too. I can tell you’re hungry. You’ve never been so cranky.”

Damián stood, successfully this time. He slid past Diego and began walking towards the door. Diego was his client, not the other way around. He had no right to lecture Damián about how much he was eating or how cranky he was.

Diego caught up with him at the front door.

“Do you have someone who can stay with you tonight?” Diego asked. “Just in case you collapse and hit your head? I would feel terrible if I heard you died after letting you leave.”

Leo was out for the evening. Eve had taken him to an event on campus. Diego was so fucking smug and infuriating.

“No,” Damián said.

Diego easily slid between Damián and the door. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to go home like this alone. So you either get someone to stay with you or I admit you to the emergency room—which will be packed by this hour—and have them do whatever they want with you.”

Damián stared. He couldn’t call Diego’s bluff. And if he did end up in an emergency room, Diego would surely tell him about the recent display of bad eating habits, and that would start Damián down the very scary path of recovery.

“You’re a shit doctor,” Damián snapped. “You can’t threaten to admit someone.”

“I’m not threatening, I’m warning. I’m worried about you. You look like you’ve lost weight.”

God, Damián hated hearing that. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He didn’t want anyone to spend more energy than they needed to thinking about him. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

“Just call a friend when you get home,” Diego said, voice now soft. “It’ll make me feel better.”

Again, Damián thought about Leo being gone for the rest of the evening. There was no one else really around. He once had friends he could probably call and be vulnerable with, but Christian had gotten them in the break up. For the first time in over a year, Damián ached for Christian. Not for him, exactly, but for his company.

Damián thought about Alex. They hadn’t spoken since the night before when Alex suddenly left the museum. If Alex’s feelings were hurt, it would feel selfish to call him to babysit. But if Damián made it seem like he just wanted to see him, Alex might avoid him.

He texted Alex from Diego’s doorstep.

Hey, I know you weren’t super in the mood to hang out last night. But I was with a client, and he says I almost “fainted,” and the prick is a doctor so he doesn’t want me home alone. If it’s not too much trouble, do you think you can chill with me until Leo gets back home? You don’t have to, of course! Don’t feel pressured.

Of course I’ll stay with you. I’m on my way.

Damián absolutely hated his life.

[ladymcres]

sometimes i forget the amount of toxicity going around kp on twitter, and every single time i go back there, i feel more disgusted at how worse it’s getting.

i get people may be mad at build, but that doesn’t justify insults or plain bullying, because guess what? you can cry about it, he’s still doing the event with apo (also, let’s be honest here. half of apo stans aren’t really mad about the whole build scandal, they’re just angry about mile not being there because they’re delusional as fuck). Calling a person ugly, short, implying shit about the color of his skin isn’t the serve you think it is.

Also, cancel culture is the fucking worst because, breaking news, people can be educated and maybe they’ll even be actually sorry over their mistakes.

[topguncortez]

despite me blocking them multiple times, matt and abby keep magically become unblocked every time they have a scandal for some reason

like not only did they leave their toddlers alone with just a baby monitor to watch over them, they put them in two separate rooms 😵‍💫 it’s not even like their kids are like 10 and 12 and are somewhat self-sufficient.

and it’s the way they’re filtering their tiktok comments to just have any cruise comments deleted. have they not heard of madeline mccann??? or like if they didn’t want to be responsible for their kids on the cruise could they not have stayed home with the grandparents?

i hate to say this, i really do because CPS can destroy perfectly good families… but i feel like CPS needs to be involved. that was straight up child endangerment. idgaf how they try to spin it, they left their young children ALONE in a room on a CRUISE SHIP.

they had two rooms. they could’ve put the kids to bed in one room and ordered room service in another room. or you ask grandma or grandpa to tag a long on vacation. or you just don’t go if you can’t accommodate for having children with you. that’s a sacrifice you have to be willing to make when you have children.

and then to brag about it on the internet. and knowing that it’s probably done partially for rage baiting cause that’s how they get their views is disgusting. they’re bragging about putting their young children in danger for rage baiting views.

i don’t like cancel culture i think it’s sometimes over done and done for petty reasons but they need to be cancelled. they clearly can not separate being an influencer from being a parents and it’s going to come at the cost of their kids’ lives

[spitdrunken]

someone to hold

this is a commissioned extension of this post! thank you so much for your support <3!

pairing: ingo x male!reader x emmet wordcount: 14.4 k notes: incest (blankshipping), relationship development (emmet going from disliking -> loving u), very consensual threesome, slight (consensual) verbal humiliation

You saved the world. You fought Alphas, calmed down Nobles, battled against creatures of myth, documented every Pokémon found in Hisui, and returned home having completed your quest. Frankly, you’ve been through more than people have in thirty lifetimes, all in the span of a set of years. You also found love. You found friends (and lost them), and connected with Pokémon that stood by your side through whatever was thrown your way. Scars litter your body as evidence of your adventures, each with a story to tell. 

Logically, you’ve faced and overcome far bigger hurdles. So why does sitting on the couch in the living room, alone with Emmet, feel like such a minefield?

The silence is awkward and deafening. When you and Emmet are together in the same room, it means that Ingo put forth an idea. This time, it was watching a movie. Though you’ve both perfected dancing around each other’s presence, for Ingo’s sake, you’ll sit down in the same room. In theory, you should be closer. There have been apologies and attempted amends. But can you really accept them, when they’re all about Ingo, Ingo, Ingo? Every time you reached out to Emmet yourself, it was brushed off. You’re both sitting on the couch, as far away from each other as possible, and neither of you tries to bridge the distance. You can’t say you’ve fully forgiven him yet either, but you aren’t ready to give up on him either. You’re trying to think of what to say. 

Ingo is the one thread tying the two of you together. You love him, and so does Emmet. Because of that, you both stay. 

“Do you…” Emmet starts, closing his mouth as soon as the sound dies down. He turns towards you, folding one leg against him and resting against the armrest. His fingers are pulling at his sleeve, the tip of his foot tapping the floor in a quick rhythm. He’s smiling still, he always is, but his lips are pressed together in a thin line. You can’t remember the last time he tried to start a conversation all on his own. 

“...Do I what?” You ask, and Emmet jolts at the sound of your voice. The spell is broken. His smile widens.

“Do you have a Fletcher? I’d like to see the posts you make when you and Ingo separate. Or maybe…” He leans his head in one hand, fingers tapping at his cheek. “You’ll sell it to the press? We’ll be a very profitable scandal, I think.“

You roll your eyes. By Emmet’s standards, this is not a hefty blow. It’s much less insulting now, nothing compared to what it used to be. He’s not poking you where it hurts most, despite knowing your weak points. Still, his ‘teasing’ might eventually become entertaining when he’s not busy accusing you of being willing to sell out the love of your life out of pettiness. His hesitation lingers in your mind for a moment. Usually, he doesn’t think twice before jabbing you. 

“Do we have to go over this again?” He doesn’t trust you, that’s what he’s saying. It still hurts a little. “If we ever break up, I’d never tell on you two. It would ruin the rest of your lives, and that’s the last ting I want.” For a moment, you hesitate. “Emmet. I’m really not disgusted by your relationship. You can be affectionate right in front of me, for all I care.” He lets out a little hum at this.  “You clearly make Ingo happy, and he loves you so much. I can’t… I won’t get in the way of that.” 

Sometimes, you do worry. They’ve known each other all of their life, and have been dating for far longer than you’ve known Ingo. Emmet knows some quirks of Ingo better than you do, while you’re more familiar with the habits he developed in Hisui. Still… If he had to pick, who would he choose? It’s a cruel question, with no happy answer, formed out of your own insecurities. None of it is Ingo’s fault. He’s been nothing but sweet and reassuring. 

“All I’m asking is not to be a third wheel. Nothing more. Because though Ingo cares about you… He cares about me too.” You leave out any mention of his jealousy or controlling tendencies. As soon as you put him on the defensive, he’ll stop listening to what you’re saying. 

“...You really care about my brother.” He says in an even tone. You hope you’re getting through to him, one way or another. As long as he realises you just love Ingo, like he does, this can work out in the end. You’ll bear a few jabs throughout all of it. Then he grins wide, showing teeth. “But not as much as me.”

Any protest you can make dies when Ingo announces his presence with loud steps, and Emmet gives him an enthusiastic wave. “My apologies for taking so long. As you can see, I took another stop.” He’s carrying two bowls. One is filled with Emmet’s favourite snack, the other with yours. He sits down right in between the two of you, putting the bowls on the coffee table as he reaches for the remote. 

The moment Ingo’s back hits the couch, Emmet latches on to him, far closer than he did before. He presses a kiss on his cheek and nuzzles his face against him, leaning his weight on him while tugging him closer with one arm. Ingo flushes and, though he squirms for a moment, he eventually relents. 

“I, ah- I was only gone for a couple of minutes, Emmet.” Ingo sounds nothing but fond, though. He’s leaning a little into his touch as well, and you feel a quick sting of some feeling. It’d be unfair to interfere, he’d hold that over your head forever too. Emmet catches your eye, and holds eye contact with you as Ingo presses play. The movie provides mindless noise in the background. He presses kisses up Ingo’s jawline while his brother desperately tries to ignore him, staring at you the whole time. 

Then, he sticks his tongue out. You immediately jerk your head away, facing right forward instead, watching the movie without registering a second. You miss how Ingo glances at you from the corner of his eye and moves to say something, only to be cut off by Emmet kissing him. 

 “We need to talk.”

Ingo tells you this, and your heart picks up speed. He cares about you, you reassure yourself, there’s nothing wrong. Your relationship has been, since returning to the present, been rocky at times. You can’t be as secure in everything as you’d like to be. All these thoughts must be written on your face, because Ingo’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s nothing important!” He practically yells, and then shakes his head, before clearing his throat. “...Excuse me. Well, it’s important, I believe, however- I don’t think it’s anywhere close to the destination you had in mind.” He’s rubbing his hands together, cheeks flushing pink. Well, if nothing else, he doesn’t seem to be breaking up with you. 

You sit down on the bed, and pat the spot next to you. “Let’s start over. What did you want to say?”

“Ah, well…” For a moment, he closes his eyes. “To avoid treading off track I will address the topic directly: I would… I would like to be intimate with Emmet once again.” That’s all? All tension flows from your body as you nod along to what he’s saying. You’d been more than expecting he would want this. He’s dating him, after all. In fact, you would’ve thought they’d already ‘been intimate’ again. 

“I do not feel any obligation to him, nor am I trying to bring back lost memories, however– I find myself… Indulging in some fantasies lately. I realised I miss that aspect of our relationship as well, and would like to be closer to him once again. It’s hard for me to put into words, exactly. In a way, I miss him, despite him being around, and I- I feel this would bring me closer to him again. Ah, I’m afraid I went on a bit of a tangent there…” He looks down at his lap. “Could you tell me your feelings on this?”

“You want to have sex with Emmet, right?” You ask, just in case, though you’re almost certain that’s what he’s talking about. “I don’t mind at all. Go right ahead. Have you picked a date already?” It’s meant to be somewhat teasing, but it flies right over Ingo’s head. 

He nods. “In all honesty, I haven’t brought it up at all, so I’m not certain.” You blow out a little air through your nose. If Emmet denied a chance to fuck him, you’d go right back to Hisui. “I wanted to make sure you knew first. You have the right to know we, or, rather, I am considering taking the next step. Otherwise, I’d feel as if I were doing things behind your back… And that makes me very uncomfortable.”

You smile. He’s such a sweetheart, always. “Thank you for telling me.” His lips turn up into a hint of a smile, and your heart flutters. You grab one of his hands, squeezing it. “You’re dating both of us. It’s alright for you to do whatever you want with him, but I still really, really appreciate you asking me first.” You lean forward, and give him a quick kiss, leaving his eyes half-lidded. 

“On one condition.” You have Ingo’s full attention.

“And that is?” You squeeze his hand. 

“You have to tell me all about it afterwards.”

 Emmet can’t remember how they ended up like this, how a simple goodnight kiss led to having Ingo’s tongue in his mouth, but he’d rather not think at all right now, so he doesn’t try to. This is what he’d been hoping for. He likes to think he’s often more direct than Ingo, yet, this time, he’s clearly won. He’d been too afraid to ask. Everything’s been different, including their relationship. With each kiss or touch, he worried he was hitting Ingo’s limits, unless they were things that he knew Ingo liked already. It’s clear now that he hasn’t been giving him close to enough.

Ingo presses himself flush against him, pressing his crotch against his thigh. He’s clearly hard. That’s the only reason Emmet dares grind his leg against him, making his twin cling even closer to him. A loud groan follows, without any hesitation. As they kiss, Ingo pulls at Emmet’s shirt. He only breaks away to speak. 

“May I?” He’s breathing too quickly to respond, so he only nods. Ingo gets up and nudges Emmet, having him lie flat on his back. Without any prompting, he climbs on top of him. It’s new for Ingo to act without Emmet asking to. He can say it’s his favourite change so far. 

Ingo pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side. For a heartbeat, he hesitates, his hand hovering above his skin, before he presses his palm down right above his heart. Both of them can feel Emmet’s heart race. (Though he has a suspicion that they’re synced up perfectly, never out of tune.) Through half-lidded eyes, his brother stares at them, expression peaceful and frown softened, cheeks flushed. 

They are twins, they have always been together, and they should have never been separated. When Ingo disappeared, he took a part of him with him, and left him uncomfortable and unbalanced. Things have changed forever. Emmet can’t look away from it anymore, not even now. It’s different.  Despite his brother’s return, he hasn’t fully regained his footing. He shoves the thought away. All he wants is Ingo, and he’s enough. To feel him, love him, fill him– Like he wanted to for so long. If Ingo wants to take the lead this time, he’ll let him. As long as it’s him, it’s alright. 

“I missed you so much.” Ingo says, speaking for both of them. 

“I love you.” Emmet responds, and it’s all he needs to say.

Ingo grabs his hand and gives a kiss to his knuckles, then leaving a trail of them all the way up his arm. As he presses his lips to one side of him, his fingers slowly trace his way up the other. He moves on to his throat next. After that, a few kisses along his jawline and, finally, he leaves them all over his chest. (And, with them, a couple of tears are left behind. Emmet says nothing about those. He’s crying too, after all.) Heat is surging through his whole body, heart melting with affection. Once, Ingo looks up while kissing him, and a shiver shoots up his spine. He’s never quite felt this worshipped before, not even in all the time they were together. It feels like a second ‘first time’, a new beginning. 

Any moment now, as Ingo’s lips move down further and further, he’s expecting hesitation or nervousness, the ‘old’ Ingo who would ask him what to do next. But he kisses the tip of his clothed cock without a moment of pause. He lets out a shuddering breath. All it takes is for Emmet to breathe out his name, and Ingo is pulling his soaked boxers down. He licks the bead of precum from the tip. When he closes his mouth around his dick, Ingo slowly takes him inside. He doesn’t gag once. It’s more like cockwarming than a blowjob, the pleasure slowly creeping rather than overwhelming him all at once. That’s fine. He wants this to last long. It’d be better if it never ended.

Emmet’s hips still twitch forward unconsciously, making his throat convulse around him. “Sorry! Are you alright?” He used to fuck his throat in the past, used to love having him gagging every couple of seconds. Maybe he’s changed, too. Ingo doesn’t pull off or even pauses. He simply takes a deep breath and hums for a moment before bobbing his head up and down. With every moment, he rubs and swirls his tongue around his shaft. It’s been so long since anyone sucked him off and the inside of his mouth is so nice and warm, and it’s Ingo, it’s Ingo, and his cock throbs and twitches and he moans, and– 

“And then he came in my mouth.” Ingo tells you, blushing. He’s looking right past you. No matter how much you’ve eased Ingo into using ‘crude’ language, he can’t look at your face while saying any of it. You can live with it. Hearing all of his filthy thoughts is enough already. You recall how difficult he used to find it, stuttering and stumbling over every word… It was cute. Now, he doesn’t need more than the occasional push in the right direction.

“How was it?” you ask, your fingers ghosting over his crotch. Ingo whimpers as he tries to chase your touch. You click your tongue the moment he gets too greedy, and pull your hand away.

“There… There was a lot. I almost choked a bit, because I had been expecting him to last longer. He used to. Take a longer time, I mean. I was thinking that… Maybe–” He goes quiet, and you wait patiently for him to continue. “I thought maybe he had been waiting for me. Not touching himself or anything of the sort, until I came back. Because it was so, ah… T-thick, I would say. I liked that. I don’t know whether he refrained or not, but…”

You cup his cock through his pants this time, and he lets out a little gasp. “It was just a fantasy you liked, right?”

“Yes. Correct. The thought excited me, that’s all.” He gives you a curt nod. 

“After Emmet finished, I went to kiss him again. I suddenly remembered that he’d always liked that… And judging from his response, it was accurate. He asked me if it could be his turn now, and I gave my consent.”

You finally decide to give him what he’s clearly yearning for and wriggle his pants down. You jerk him off with lazy flicks of your wrist, never at a quick enough pace to get him close to cumming. Ingo pants softly the whole time, mouth hanging open as his head rocks back and forth.

“Did he touch you like this?” You ask, to keep him talking. You love hearing him ramble, and his memories are clearly turning him on more right now than your touch. Though you have to say… The conversation had been a bit exciting to you too.

You can’t say Emmet has ever featured in any of your fantasies before, but hearing that he allowed Ingo to take the lead with him gave you some ideas. In your limited thoughts, you always thought he was too stubborn for such a thing. Or perhaps Ingo is the exception. Either way, you can’t stop thinking about how pretty he’d look getting fucked into submission. You bet he’d sound a lot nicer with a cock stuffed down his throat too. It’s all fantasy. Emmet would never agree to doing something like that with you and, with that conclusion, you don’t have to take the time to think about your own shifting feelings. Horniness drives logic away, that’s all there is to it.

“N-no,” Ingo gasps out. “He- He stretched me open with his fingers, while speaking to me. Emmet told me about… How I have so many new marks now, scars. He said he wanted to know my body as well as he used to… That he’d relearn every spot. He kept using his fingers and kissed me all over, like I had done before. I- I liked it.”

While keeping one hand busy with his dick, you pop open the bottle of lube with the other. Like Emmet had done in his description, you slide your fingers inside Ingo. You find his prostate with ease as you jerk him off faster and faster.  In no time at all, he’s completely incoherent. His cock is drooling into your fist as you pick up the pace, and he repeats your name as best he can in between his whimpers.

Just for you, he keeps trying to speak. “He- H-he fucked me, and- Called… Called me his big brother and I came–” You stop touching his cock directly, but keep spreading your fingers. The whine he lets out is utterly pitiful.

“How often did you cum?” 

“I, I- I can’t remember!” He tells you, suddenly getting louder as his eyes fill up with tears. “A lot. I don’t know. A lot, ah, please–” All it takes is one more brush against his prostate and he comes undone entirely, a few tears dripping down his cheeks as he’s completely overcome with bliss.

You kiss him, cupping his face in your hands and wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “You did so well for me, such a good boy. Told me more than enough. But, um… Would you mind me sharing some thoughts I had? Based on what you said earlier.” Even as his chest is still heaving for air, Ingo shakes his head, looking at you with rapt attention. “I was thinking– Maybe we should fuck Emmet together. Eventually.” Ingo’s cock twitches with interest despite his recent orgasm, and you smile.

“Y-you would?” Ingo has been so hopeful about you two getting closer, and it’s never been more clear than in his current tired, hazy state.

“Of course I would. I know you’d like it. And I’ve been thinking…” You stroke your fingers through his hair, and Ingo leans into the touch. “Maybe you could ride him, while I fuck him open? He could sit on my lap, maybe… Or you could fill up his mouth, while I take him from his mouth.I bet he’d make such pretty expressions for you, Ingo. He’d feel so good.” Not even in your fantasies can you think of facing Emmet directly. Ingo’s breathing picks up again and his insides flutter around your fingers. You pull out and fumble with your pants for a few moments, your cock brushing against his hole.  “Or you could be in the middle. Getting attention from both of your boyfriends.” Ingo whines at this, a high, needy noise, as you slowly push yourself inside him.

“You liked all of those, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve still got some ideas left.”

After that, you think about Emmet more and more. Not just in a sexual way. More often than not, it’s nothing like this. You enjoy imagining the possibilities, how much more fun and comfortable the dynamic between you three could be if you two got closer. To not have to be dragged out by Ingo every time you spend time together, but to have every single one of you contribute. Ingo’s enthusiasm when you ask a couple of things about his brother fully wins you over. You’ll have to be the one to keep the ball rolling, though. Emmet definitely won’t do it. He doubled down for so long that you can’t see it happening. 

It’s not to make Ingo happy, or because you feel like you have to. You want to find out what has gotten your boyfriend so smitten with him, you want to know the Emmet you’ve heard about, rather than the Emmet you know. Now that a lot of his active hostility has died down, there won’t be a better time. 

For this ‘intervention’, Ingo’s right by your side, but only because Emmet won’t disagree as long as he’s with you. You at least want to be given a chance, and you’re not sure he would if you approached him alone. There’s no way you’re letting Ingo tag along. If you did, all his focus would be on him.

“Emmet, what are you up to this weekend?” It’s too direct, too sudden, but it has to do. His eyes flicker between you and Ingo at your question, undoubtedly feeling a bit cornered.

“I don’t have any plans.” He says, like you were hoping for. In the case he’d lied, Ingo would’ve known his true schedule. They’ve practically got them memorised for each other.

“That’s great. Hey, how about we go to the theme park this weekend? I think it’d be fun.” 

“‘We’?” Emmet looks at Ingo.

“Without me, that is.” Ingo responds. “He asked me my thoughts first, and I also believe that it would be nice for you to spend some time together.”

The corner of Emmet’s mouth twitches. “I wanted to go out with you this weekend. The last time we did was weeks ago.” With how busy their schedules always are, each scrap of free time is important to them. 

“I know. I promise we can go out together next week. I’ll make it special, too.” Emmet rolls his eyes, but nods, and you know you’ve won.

“Fiiiiine. I’ll do it. But.” You prepare yourself for his demand. “I’ll pick the rides.” You crack a smile. That’s all? Maybe he isn’t loathing this outing as much as you were expecting. 

“Sure, that’s fine. What’re your favourites, though?”

Emmet perks up a bit at your question. He ends up going on a ramble about one of the park’s rollercoasters, and how its tracks work. There’s a lot of technical jargon and, for half the time, you have absolutely no clue what he’s talking about. You listen and make noises of affirmation regardless. This is a trait you recognise from Ingo and you can’t help but find it endearing. Contrary to his twin, you notice, Emmet moves his hands around a lot more, his voice monotone. You smile as you listen.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Ingo looking at you. Despite them sharing a face, you like to think you can read his expressions better than Emmet’s. Even then, his current one is unreadable to you. You don’t turn to ask what’s wrong. It’d surely snap Emmet out of his tale, and you’re quite enjoying it. It feels like an improvement, a first step. 

He ends up stopping in the middle of a sentence regardless, the lightest of pink on his cheeks. “You will see it all for yourself. When you ride them. With me.” 

“I’ll look forward to it. Thanks for explaining so much, it was interesting.” You offer him a genuine smile and he just gives a stiff nod in response. He’s still smiling, his blush deepening further.

When he shifts his attention to his brother, his smile falters.  “...Ingo. Are you sure you don’t want to–”

“Yes!” Ingo says, louder than you would’ve anticipated him to.  “Please have fun. I’ll ensure our next outing will be enjoyable as well.”

  You now understand Emmet’s one condition.

He’s dragging you from one rollercoaster to the next, each one more intense and dizzying than the last. While you feel woozy, he never seems affected. His step never falters, but he has the audacity to laugh at you every time you’re a bit unsteady while exiting. Though the one time you genuinely stumbled, he immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you upright. Only to repeatedly wipe off his hands on his clothes right after. He clearly loves the rides though, laughing throughout all of them, and just that makes it a bit more worth it.  Who knew he’d have such a nice, genuine laugh? 

He’s the most talkative when faced with your suffering, poking fun at you, but the true horror is the awkwardness outside of those moments. You try to get him to talk about the rides again, desperately digging through your memories to remember the exact words he uses. He never latches on the way you want him to. You can’t force him to speak, you know that, so you fill the silence instead with some stories about your life back in Hisui. Mostly ones that involve Ingo as well. 

When he guides you to the next ride, one that has a steep drop unlike anything else you’ve seen so far, you have to call it quits for now. “I know what I said, but can we please take a break? Like, do something a little less intense.”

“Are you scared?” Emmet’s smile widens. “I thought you saved the world. You can’t handle a theme park?”

“Unfortunately, I’m still just some guy. I didn’t get to request a literal iron stomach. You shrug your shoulders. “Sure, we can go on, but I can’t guarantee I won’t throw up all over you.” Maybe you’re exaggerating. A little bit. Emmet’s grin falters.

“Do you… Need to sit down?” He digs through his bag, pulling out a bottle of water and practically shoving it into your hands. 

“No, no. I’m fine.” You do accept the bottle, slowly sipping on it. You’re not going to die if you walk around for a bit longer. There’s just no way you’re going on another coaster. This is not perfect, but it’s nice. A month or two ago, you could’ve imagined him taping a bag against your mouth and dragging you on the coaster by force. His enjoyment and your suffering? Win-win! Instead, he looks you up and down as you give him back the water.

“Okay. Whatever. If that’s what you want.” He says it so quietly that you regret your choice, but he quickly moves on and doubles down. “...Still. You should choose now. One time.”

You look around and point at the first thing that you see, before he changes his mind. The second you do, you hope he protests. It’s a ferris wheel and having to sit in a closed space with only him, doing nothing, for minutes at a time is, well…

Horribly awkward. Worse than in line. Emmet said he’d do whatever you wanted, and so he listened. You could already imagine what he would’ve said if you tried to change your mind. ‘No. You had one choice. You picked this. So this is what we’re doing.’ 

As you expected, Emmet hasn’t said a thing. For once, you don’t want to be the one who has to put in all the effort to keep a conversation going, and it’s showing. At least the view is nice. You can see all the way across the city. The Musical Theater pops out most obviously among the landscape, with its bright lights and flashing colours. 

“Can you see Gear Station?” Emmet asks. His arm is on the railing, and he’s looking to the side, in the same direction as you.

“Uh…” You squint and try to find it among all the buildings, while failing miserably. For assistance, you look at Emmet, wanting to try and follow his eyes, but… He’s looking at you. For a few moments, you stare at each other in silence.

“It’s right there. Have you forgotten what it looks like?” You want to retort, but you’re not sure whether he’s being mean or genuinely asking. He can be awfully direct at times, too. Without any ill intent. One day, you might be able to tell purely from the face he’s making, or the width of his smile- Now though, when you look at him, you have no clue.

Thinking this, you must’ve just been staring at him even longer. “Are you here to look at the view, or me? I know I have my brother’s face, buuuut...” 

You sputter for a moment, and he laughs. You’re not usually caught off guard, but you have to admit you were staring. The realisation to yourself was already embarrassing enough, being called out on it even worse. 

“Look. I’ll help. It’s there.” Emmet leans forward, stretching his arm out and pointing right behind you. His arm brushes against your shoulder, and your face really shouldn’t be heating up at something so minor. You think this might be the first time he’s ever touched you. Still, you’re glad for any distraction from your earlier interaction.

Following his instructions, your eyes quickly find the building amongst the landscape. As soon as you look over your shoulder, you recognise it.

“How was I supposed to see it, if it was right behind me the whole time?” Emmet cracks up once again.

“Turning around. Knowing the city you live in. Not being tricked by me.”

“Asshole.” You mutter, without any bite. This teasing was completely harmless, almost endearing. If Emmet heard what you said, he doesn’t show it. You both fall quiet again. This time, you feel like you should be the one to get the conversation rolling again. You go for the most obvious thing you can think of. 

“Do you like working at the station?”

“Yes. For the most part.” Emmet responds. “...I like the battles a lot. Being around trains every day is nice. Ingo is better at helping out commuters and doing paperwork. We always do a mix of everything, so nothing gets boring.” He gazes out in the direction of the station. “When he was gone… It was difficult, on my own. Ingo’s still relearning things at the moment, but I’m helping him.”

The cabin swings slightly in the wind. “I can't imagine what losing Ingo must’ve felt like to you.” You tentatively say. Emmet stares at the ground. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” He looks up and slowly shakes his head.

“...It was the worst time of my life. At first, everyone helped. But not forever. The looks they gave me… It made me so mad. They didn’t know. They didn’t understand. The love of my life disappeared. I knew he was alive. He had to be. I would’ve done anything for Ingo. Ingo came back, like I knew he would.” He clenches his fists, his smile slipping off of his face entirely. “...But you were with him. He looked at you, like he used to look at me. Do you understand?”

You open your mouth to speak, but you don’t know what to say. Emmet continues. “No. You don’t. It always worried me. Our relationship is our biggest secret. With someone else… He could be honest. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Not with me. Never with me. It’d be easier for him. But I always thought… That we were the only ones  for each other. That he could never feel the same for anyone else. It comforted me.” 

His eyes bore into yours. Until you ruined that, is what he doesn’t say.

“Ingo never forgot you,” you tell him. “I don’t know whether he told you this or not… He should have. You were one of the few things he remembered. Your smile. Your way of talking. He used to say they were the most precious fragments of his memories. At first, he didn’t even want to date me because of it.”

“‘At first’.” He repeats back at you. 

“Yeah. I was the one to convince him. He never wanted to hurt you, Emmet, but, honestly– Neither did I. Ingo remembered a few things about you: That you were important to him, and that you shared the same face. As soon as he said that, I could only assume that you were family, not lovers. Obviously, I know different now, but… Can you blame me for that not being my first assumption?” Emmet huffs out a puff of air through his nose. “We just didn’t know. If we did, we’d never have been together. I’m sure of it.”

“...Still. He fell for you either way. And you’re not… Me. You’re different. Everything was always the same. It’s all changed now.” He’s shaking a little. Emmet turns his head away from you, looking out at the view.

“I don’t hate you.” You blurt out. “I hope you can understand why I’m asking, but… Do you hate me?”

“I wished I did.” He says. “You’re not… You’re not easy to hate.” He goes quiet for a few seconds. “My question. Do you forgive me?” You think about it, carefully picking your words. 

“Not fully.” You admit. “You hurt both of us. I can understand why you felt terrible, and how it could’ve pushed you to act so aggressively. But. You were the one to choose the worst possible path. Do you know how much you were stressing Ingo out? I bet he downplayed everything to you.”

Emmet sinks into himself a little, his whole body slumping.

“He could tell there was something very off, he told me as much. From the very beginning. He thought it was all his own fault. That you were upset, because he didn’t remember as much. Or that you were mad about him disappearing at all.”

“I would never– I never was upset with him. Just…” He trails off.

“Just me?” You laugh a little. That’s nothing you didn’t know already. “Did you tell him that? I’m sure you’ve done it by now, but back then? …You’re usually so honest. Why couldn’t you have been honest then? It would’ve saved all of so much conflict. That’s, honestly, what I hold against you the most.”

“I am not proud of the way I acted.” Emmet turns back in your direction. “You– You’re… I should have made different decisions. I was caught up in my own pain, and ended up hurting others too. I’m sorry.”

“I already accepted your apology before. I appreciate it, though.” You’re happy he made the effort to apologise again. It feels more genuine than last time.  “You know… I can tell you’ve been making more of an effort lately. So, thank you.” The ferris wheel descends to almost its lowest point.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Emmet shrugs his shoulders, a smile creeping back onto his face. 

“Sure you don’t. You’re here right now, aren’t you? If you just wanted to keep up appearances for Ingo, you could’ve left hours ago.” The ferris wheel comes to a smooth halt. You hop to your feet and exit the cabin as soon as the door is opened. You hold your hand out to him. Emmet takes it.

“Come on. You had some more coasters to make me sick, right?”

 In actuality, the two of you end up getting food first. Greasy food, primarily. It’s definitely not the best decision you could’ve made, but what else is served at a theme park? As you two eat, he ends up talking about the different attractions again, and how they work. There’s still some discomfort between the two of you, no doubt about it, but it’s not nearly as overwhelming. 

“You choose.” He tells you. “There aren’t any choices left for me. I can wait before going a second time.” By now, there are a few you’ve gone on more than once. You’ve decided it’s alright. You don’t feel as bad as you did hours ago. Hearing Emmet’s free, loud laughter is also a plus.

You immediately know what you want.

The entire day, you’ve been seeing these tiny railroad tracks running all over the park and crossed them plenty of times. It obviously reminded you of Emmet. You’re sure he’s not the type to complain about seeing trains on his day off. In the back of your head, you can almost hear Ingo listing off all the mode’s possible inaccuracies. You wonder if he’s the same. At the very least, it’ll be funny. If Emmet knows where you’re leading him, he doesn’t say anything. 

As soon as you see it at the station, you barely restrain your laughter. The train is a bright yellow and plastic monstrosity. The only thing worse than its painful colour scheme is the loud music blasting from cheap speakers. All kinds of cute Pokémon are painted on the side.

Emmet takes one look at it, and nearly stumbles over his own feet. “This is an insult to trains everywhere. All of them. Ever.” He has his lips pressed tightly together.

“Oh, come on. You told me I could pick! This is my choice.” You laugh and Emmet sighs. Regardless, he’s still following you.

“That was before you showed your terrible taste.”

“You’ll live. It’ll be funny.” You walk further into the line, which is completely empty. “And how can you thoroughly bash it, if you’ve never been inside?”

“Fiiiiine. You’re getting in first. I’ll decide after that.”

You can immediately get in a cart. Obviously, you pick the front one. It’s only when you put one foot inside, that you fully realise how small the seats actually are. For you, it’s already a tight fit. Your knees are pressed up against the side and front of the cart. You wriggle a bit to try and get more comfortable, to no avail. There’s still space left to the side of you. Emmet stands to the side with a strained smile, just staring, and you laugh, patting the seat.

For a moment, you think he’ll simply send you off with a wave. That’s not what happens. He puts one leg inside and sits down, his knee immediately banging against the front of the cart. He hisses in pain, squirming against you as he tries to get his other leg inside, but failing. Part of it remains dangling out, his foot barely above the floor. 

A cheery song blast from speakers all over the train. “I regret this verrry much. Can we go back to avoiding each other?” He tries to shift again, and almost ends up sitting on your lap. “...Joking.” 

“I figured you were. Here, let me–” 

You end up wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him as close to you as possible. It doesn’t make much of a difference, except for you two to be incredibly close to each other. This, in any other situation, could’ve perhaps been cute or romantic. Not here. Your ears are starting to hurt from the grating music, every single part of the cart is sticky to the touch, and there’s a teenage employee standing behind the controls who’s just barely, desperately restraining his laughter. 

“You’re not going to fit, man. I’m pretty sure this thing barely moves. It’s fine.” The lines on his brow deepen and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Don’t worry about it.”

“This is a safety violation.” He stretches his arm out and points at the sign. “It says so right there.” 

“Oh, it definitely is. I don’t think he cares, though.” You nod in the direction of the teenager, who was trying to take a picture of you two before quickly tucking his phone away. He forces on a big smile for the two of you. It’s these moments that you remember Emmet’s fame. He turns to look at him as well. It’s impossible for you to see what kind of face Emmet is making, but it makes him immediately press a button that has the train taking off with another deafening song.

You end up crawling through the entire park at a snail’s pace. Somehow, every time Emmet tries to move, he only gets himself stuck into a worse position. He tried to shift sideways to see if that fit, but had to get his other leg out to do so. Once it was dangling over the front railing, there was no way he was going to get it back in. Plenty of people are staring and laughing, with some of them filming. 

You lightly push against Emmet’s shoulder. “Look at them. You’re making everybody smile.”

“I think there’s a difference… Between making people smile, and being laughed at.” 

“...Do you really mind?” You ask. “If so, sorry. I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“No. No. It’s fine. It’s really silly. Have your fun.” You try not to be obvious about it, but continuously glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He seems to be having fun too.

You pass another group of people at a crossing. One person waves and makes a motion like they want you two to honk the horn. The song you’ve heard too many times to count starts all over again, and you just cannot take it anymore. You burst out laughing. After a few seconds, Emmet joins in. Your stomach hurts by the time you two have arrived back, and you have to wipe away tears with the back of your hand. 

Emmet  can’t exit on his own, you quickly realise. You’re completely stuck yourself as long as he’s there, so you can’t help beyond pushing him. It’s the exact same employee as before, who waits a little too long before coming over to help. He ends up having to listen to Emmet’s short lecture about rules and safe driving. As a goodbye, he pats him on the shoulder a bit too roughly and strides out, arms swinging back and forth like you’ve seen him do at the station.

“How would you improve this commuting experience, Emmet?” You ask, holding out your hand like it’s a microphone. 

He leans in close, putting his mouth right above your hand, smile strained and eyes wide. “Demolish it.”

You go on a few more general rides after that, finishing the day off with Emmet’s favourite roller coaster. You feel like you’ve made real progress here. It actually turned out nice!

“You’re actually pretty fun. Ingo has good taste.”

He lets out a singular ‘ha’, and shakes his head. “You have terrible taste in trains. In men, it’s acceptable.”

“I am sooo flattered.” You press a hand to your heart. “And what did you say before…? That you do have your brother’s face? So–” You don’t even have to finish the sentence. Like you had done before, Emmet’s left sputtering, and you laugh. 

  Upon arrival, Ingo is waiting for you, phone in hand. He pushes it in your face, showing a clear image of you and Emmet stuck in that stupid little train, both of you laughing. “I was glad to see you two having fun!” His voice is booming. He’s shifting on his feet, though.

You lean in and give him a quick kiss. “You’re right, it was nice! But I did miss having you around, too.” 

“Yup,” Emmet simply responds. He pokes his brother’s cheek. “Ingo. Be honest. How lonely were you without us?”

Ingo’s face flushes. “I am a grown man. I can spend one day by myself, thank you.” But then Emmet leans in and gives him a peck just like you did before, and you catch a small smile on his face. “I will admit however, I was thinking… Would you like to go out with the three of us all together, some day in the future? I am not saying now, or soon.| 

You and Emmet speak at the same time. You respond with a “Sure!”, while he says a simple “Okay”. 

You place a hand right over your stomach. “Anything’s fine with me, as long as there are no roller coasters.”

“Don’t be like that. Your stomach can use the training.”

“I’ll go again, only if you and Ingo take a train ride together.” His face sours at the memory.

“About that!” Ingo stiffens, and pulls out his phone again, tapping at the portion of the picture where Emmet’s leg is clearly dangling outside the cart. “I cannot believe I didn’t mention this before. Emmet, why did you agree to this? Your position is an obvious safety violation, I expected better from you. What if your leg had gotten stuck in between anything?”

“I said the same thing. Your boyfriend over here practically pulled me in.”

“I did not! Well, I did tell him not to worry, but–”

You get an inescapable tangent from Ingo about the importance of rules on riding vehicles. Emmet sticks his tongue out at you, before leaving the room. 

  After the first, more dates follow. Neither of you outright call them as such, but that doesn’t change what they are. You’re taking it slow, both figuring out what you exactly want.  Nothing is done without asking the other first. 

Emmet never broaches the subject directly. He’ll tell you, for example, that he ‘accidentally’ bought two tickets to the next live battle at the Stadium, and you just play along. Watching battles makes him more talkative, you’ve noticed. It’s like having a personal commentator right by your side. He’s bouncing his legs and making constant predictions about their next move, occasionally outright calling certain tactical decisions ‘stupid’. It’s too entertaining to complain about (and you enjoy seeing him so passionate about something), though you’re sure the people in the seats next to you have a different opinion. You hold hands as the large crowd exits the building all at once, to avoid getting lost, and his hand is sweaty against yours. 

Your outing with the three of you ends up turning into a shopping session for Ingo. He still treasures the clothes he returned in, most importantly, his tattered coat. Ingo has gained muscle since his stay in Hisui, mostly around his arms, so most of his shirts don’t fit as well as they used to. Not that you’d ever complain about seeing his sleeves tight around his arms. You’ll miss watching him flex his arms in slight annoyance, wondering if he can somehow make it a better fit… Unfortunately, it’s uncomfortable for Ingo. 

It turns into both of you grabbing way too many clothes for him, in differing styles, and cheering him on with every outfit. In your honest and completely unbiased opinion, he looked good every single time. You thought he was going to pass out from how much blood was flowing to his face. No matter how much he told you two to cut back on all the praise, he always went ahead and grabbed the next outfit regardless. 

  The scene is familiar. You’re on the couch with both Ingo and Emmet, a movie providing mindless noise in the background. Ingo is the only one keeping any track of the plot. He’s watching while stuffing his face with handfuls of salted popcorn. He’d been excited for this one for a while. You’d be watching more of the film yourself, if it weren’t for Emmet’s eyes. He’s sitting next to Ingo. This doesn’t stop him from staring at you the whole time. You try not to look in his direction. That would be giving him exactly what he wants, and you have no intention of doing so quite yet. 

It's familiar, but not the same. Emmet and you are no longer on opposite ends of the couch, instead both sitting close to Ingo. 

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You turn to glare at Emmet without Ingo noticing and, the moment you do, he moves. His hand creeps up Ingo’s leg, nudging at his inner thigh to spread his legs a little. Their knees bump together. He leans to the side, resting his head against Ingo’s. Most obvious of all, he wraps an arm around Ingo, pulling him further away from  you. 

It’s the final straw for Ingo. He tries to wriggle out of Emmet’s hold and pauses his snacking. “Emmet, stop hogging me. It’s impolite.”

"I am Emmet. I am not 'hogging you'." 

"Then, do tell me, what are you doing right now?"

"It's a hug. My boyfriend is telling me I can't show any affection. Woooow. I can actually be impolite. I’ll show you.” Emmet puts both of his hands on Ingo’s cheeks and turns him towards him, kissing him without hesitation. Judging by the muffle noise Ingo makes, he’s trying to wriggle his tongue into his mouth as well. Worst of all, Emmet’s keeping eye contact with you the whole time. Not Ingo, not the one he’s kissing, but you. Emmet’s face is all red when he pulls away, and you can hear his twin panting. 

Without another word, he knocks the bowl of popcorn off of Ingo's lap and climbs on top of it instead. You cringe. You'll have to clean that all up afterwards. It’s all over the floor. Thank the gods for Ingo having eaten most of it, or there would’ve been even more of a mess. 

Still, it’s a sight to see Ingo looking up at another person for once in his life, his chin pinched in between Emmet’s fingers. When he bows down to connect their lips again, Ingo turns away. Emmet kisses Ingo’s cheek instead and releases it with a loud pop.

“I-I will repeat! You shouldn’t jump on someone without any warning, not even me, but, more importantly–” Ingo tries to tilt his head, but Emmet’s grip on his face is firm. “You will be making my partner feel left out through this, I’m certain. If you want attention, I’ll be sure to give it to you later.” Emmet’s smile falls a little.

"It's fine," you say. "I don't mind watching. It's more entertaining than the movie, at least. Go on." To accentuate your point, you move so you're facing them instead, tucking your legs against you. 

Emmet giggles. "See? Ask before making assumptions." Ingo opens his mouth to respond, giving Emmet the perfect opportunity to kiss him now. Because of the change in their position, you have a full view now, instead of basically only seeing Ingo’s hair. 

He moves to cup Ingo’s cheek in one hand, the other resting on the back of his head. Emmet pulls away to show off the string of drool connecting their mouths. When he grinds against his twin, his moan is loud and clear for you to hear. He kisses him again.

Ingo’s eyes are closed the whole time. His fingers shake as they dig into Emmet’s hips, clutching on like a lifeline. Does Ingo look as flustered when kissing you? You’re not sure if it’s Emmet’s influence, or the fact that you’re watching. But he lets himself be pushed along with every move that Emmet makes, wrapping his arms around his waist. Emmet pulls away and glances at you from the corner of his eye. He gives you a quick wave, before focusing on Ingo again.

"Ingo, you're sooooo hard right now. All because of me, right? Tell me." Ingo has the prettiest and haziest look on his face, eyes still half-lidded and lips swollen from all the kisses, and clearly slick with spit. 

You’re tired of only sitting by and watching. You crawl over to them. “I’ll say you’ve done a good job so far, Emmet. But I’ll have to make sure it isn’t just because of you anymore.” As your hand slips over Emmet’s, he doesn’t move a muscle. He allows you to move Ingo’s head, though. You smile at your boyfriend. “You look so beautiful right now. I wish it was my work alone.”

“I…” Ingo’s voice can never be described as quiet. Compared to his normal, this is soft. “It’s for you, too.”

You can’t keep yourself from smiling, and you kiss him. Ingo’s lips part more than usual before your tongue can even prod at them. You can feel Emmet’s gaze. Slowly, you run your hands up and down his body, rubbing your tongue against Ingo’s. In his mouth and on his lips, you can still taste salt. You’re nowhere near done when he suddenly jerks and pulls away, a strangled noise muffled against your mouth. 

Ingo lets his head fall against the back of the couch. His breathing is even heavier than before, pupils blown wide open. It’s easy to tell what had caused him to break away. Emmet’s busy groping his brother through his pants and, as he notices he’s gained your attention, he dives his hand underneath his waistband. 

“My poor brother was sooo pent up. You were neglecting him.” Or were you neglecting Emmet? If you’ve figured out anything over the course of your dates, it’s that he likes getting full attention. He’ll make sure he does otherwise. You adjust yourself, think of a way to have fun with Ingo that includes Emmet’s involvement.

“What a good little brother you are. Can you keep doing that for me?” Ingo groans at a motion Emmet makes. He presses his forehead against his chest to hide his flushed face. You put a hand on his shoulder and gently push him back. Ingo doesn’t resist. “See? He’s enjoying himself?”

“I will keep going. Only because I wouldn’t stop anything Ingo likes.” That’s not unexpected. You decide to shift your focus to Ingo instead. You can’t really start to neglect him, like Emmet said earlier. Ingo cranes his neck to give you better access as you kiss up and down his throat. When you lap at the skin, he shudders. Emmet laughs as you start to suck and leave red marks.

“You should keep going now. He’s twitching a lot.” Ingo whines in embarrassment. He’s always been easy to overwhelm, but having both of you all over him is amplifying it. Following his advice, you leave a trail of hickeys on his throat until he’s a whimpering mess. If you keep this up much longer, he’ll cum before you even get to touch his cock. Your next kiss is against his jawline.

“I’ve been thinking, Ingo… This is the perfect situation. I think you’ve realised it too. How about we act out what he talked about that one time? Our little fantasy?” Ingo inhales sharply, bucking his hips up into Emmet’s hand. He meets nothing but air, because Emmet pulls away at the last second. In frustration, he wraps his own hand around his dick. He’s still caught up in being good, though. He doesn’t touch himself fast enough to cum, merely stroking himself.

“Yes, yes, yes–” He gasps out on repeat, eyes flicking between the two of you. “P-please. I want… What we talked about. All of us.” Ingo is at his most honest when he’s horny, and right now he looks like he’s about to blow his load any second. The only downside is that, in exchange for his honesty, it makes him much less coherent.

You curl your hand around his wrist, holding his hand in place when he struggles. “We will. You can’t cum until Emmet’s inside you, okay?” His hands twitches against yours in a final attempt to move. After that, Ingo nods. Once you let go of his hand, he lets it drop to his lap. To distract himself, he rubs his thighs together.

“What?” Emmet asks, a bit too fast. “What did you discuss?”

You don’t see the use in beating around the bush here. “A while ago, Ingo and I talked about having sex with all three of us together.” You put one hand on Emmet’s arm. He doesn’t pull away. “It’s okay if that’s too much right now. Or if you never want too at all. Neither of us will be upset, I promise.” In the background, you can hear Ingo taking deeper breaths, trying to compose himself again.

“You’ve… Been talking about that together? For a while?”

“Once or twice.” You say, with a slight shrug of your shoulders. You’ve been thinking about it a lot more than that. 

“We have.” Ingo adds. “I love you both, as I’m sure you know. Sometimes, I… I like to think of being together with both of you. I had those thoughts long before discussing it with him. It’s only now that I’ve considered that it couldn’t be mere fantasy.” Ingo follows your gesture, and puts his hand on Emmet’s other arm. “Don’t do this for me, but only if you’re interested yourself. Even if you do agree, we can always divert tracks during the process. I trust you to be as honest as always.”

Emmet doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say anything at all. Nor does he grin or sigh or rolls his eyes. He fiddles with his fingers and doesn’t look at either you or Ingo. Emmet chews on his bottom lip. When Ingo softly calls out his name, he shakes his head, and you refrain from adding anything yourself. He exhales shakily. In the silence, it sounds deafening. He looks at you again, with a face redder than you’ve ever seen it before.

“I only… I only want to, if I’m sure.” Then, the silence hangs thick in the air again, until you feel compelled to give him a little push.

“Sure of what?”

He visibly swallows. “Are you doing this for Ingo?” He opens his mouth, closes it again, and starts over. “If so, I can’t. I can’t do this, if you’re not into me. If it’s still all about him. Because I… I… You– I can’t. And don’t lie.”

“Oh, Emmet…” You move your hand away from his arm, putting it on his shoulder instead. “If I didn’t like your company, I wouldn’t have gone on dates with you so much.” He makes a little noise in protest, and you lightly shake him. “Yes, dates. Let’s be honest, that’s what they were. I’ll be honest. You’re attractive. And not just because you have your brother’s face.”

Since he doesn’t flinch away from your touch, you put your hand up even higher. You gently hold his face and try to lift his head up a bit. His skin burns underneath your touch. “You’re funny. You’re passionate, and can somehow make any subject interesting. In your own way, at least to me, it’s clear you care a lot. I know we weren’t off to the best start, but it’s not like that anymore. What can I say? You’ve convinced me. You can be mean all you want now, you’re not getting rid of me anymore.” You squish his face a little, and lean towards him. His eyes are slightly wide, fully entranced by you.

“Most of all, I love how embarrassed you look right now.” His eyes narrow. You close the gap between the two of you.

He goes stiff as a board, and you’re terrified that you misread this whole situation. You pull away, an apology read on your lips. Before you can say anything, Emmet gets off of Ingo’s lap and pushes you against the armrest. He grabs you by the collar and pulls you back in, smashing your mouth against his. His hands are digging into your clothes. You hardly have the time to process, before his tongue is prying at your mouth, desperate and hungry. Without thinking, you let him have his way and part your lips for him. The tip of his tongue traces your palate. This wasn’t the type of kiss you had in mind. Emmet had left his own mark on your first kiss, though, and you can’t say you mind. 

Emmet breaks away and immediately puts both of his hands on your shoulders. “Why didn’t you kiss me like that before?” He shakes you around, almost making you laugh.

“Why didn’t you?” You ask and, as an answer, you only get another kiss. It’s not as pushy or desperate as your first one. When you kiss him back, he’s the one opening his mouth for you. As soon as you put your tongue inside, he’s sucking around it. Like he’d done with Ingo before, he’s fondling you through your clothes, but you suppress all noises so as to not give him any satisfaction.

When you push at his chest, he pulls away from you. Emmet smiles wide and gives you another peck on the lips. “You taste a little like Ingo too.” Ingo. You feel terrible for forgetting.

You wriggle out from underneath Emmet, leaning both of your elbows on the armrest so you can just barely look over his shoulder. You find your boyfriend watching you both, lazily stroking himself to the sight. Like you asked before, he hadn’t finished yet. His eyes are half-lidded. 

“Ingo, is this okay?”

“Please continue.” He says. “For the time being, I am more than satisfied with watching. A-and I haven’t forgotten the regulations you set up, I promise. I know you will make sure that I am satisfied by the end of this. I like… I like seeing you kiss. Go on.”

“Are you su–” Emmet grabs you by the collar once more.

“You heard him. He was loud and clear. You can’t confess, and then ignore me. That’s mean. Verrry mean.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was doing a ‘safety check’. Both of you love those.” He doesn’t respond, instead pawing at you more. Emmet starts tugging at your clothes. You let him take off your shirt without protesting, but stop when he starts undoing your belt. “No. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it on my terms.” You yank his wrist away from you, not hard enough to hear him. You swear you hear the tiniest whine in the back of his throat. You grin.

You rub a circle on his hand with your thumb. “But… Tell me to stop if you don’t like anything, okay? Even if you don’t enjoy anything I’m saying.” He gives you a nod. “Get off of me.” You tell him first. “Ingo said he likes seeing us kiss. We should make sure he has a clear view.”

“Make me listen.” He makes a show of pinning your arms against the armrest, but you wrench yourself free just as easily. Staying in Hisui had given both you and Ingo a stronger build than Emmet, who had stayed behind and remained as lanky as ever.

“You’re going to. Don’t you want to make sure Ingo’s happy? And don’t you want to be fucked silly by me, your boyfriend?”

“That’s- I-” The flush on his face impossibly deepens, as he opens and closes his mouth like a Magikarp out of water.  “I can do what I want.” 

“Of course you can. The same goes for me. I can stop whenever I want. If you won’t listen, maybe I should give Ingo some attention instead. He’s always so good.”

His eyes narrow, his smile so wide it shows off his teeth. “Not him. Me. You’re with me. Touching me, talking to me, looking at me– Ingo can watch. He wants to.” Emmet holds your gaze for a few moments longer, before relenting. He gets off of you to sit down, granting you the opportunity to climb in his lap. You do just that. It’s a thrill to finally be taller than him in one way or another, even though you barely reach above him.

Ingo moans from beside you. You turn to give him a look, but you never get to see him. “What did I say?” His voice is completely monotone. Emmet covers your eyes with the palm of his hand, and buries his face against the crook of your neck. He latches his mouth onto your throat and bites down. Hard. You wheeze in a breath through grit teeth. It hurts, it seriously does. Emmet hums as he sucks on the wound. He pulls away, only to lap at it with his tongue instead. Your neck throbs. It’s the type of mark that’s going to last for ages. You don’t move. You wait. 

You put a hand on the middle of Emmet’s chest, pinning him down against the couch.

Emmet pulls away, like you had been anticipating. Specks of your blood cling to his lips. He laughs. “You look so hot when you’re angry.” You lose your composure. What you give him isn’t much of a kiss. You chew on his bottom lip and place your hand around his throat, feeling his heartbeat underneath your thumb. You don’t press down hard enough to cut off his breathing, but you can feel the vibrations of his moans against your hand. Emmet grinds his hips against yours.

You break the kiss, letting go of his neck and looking at his wrecked state. “I guess that was more of a reward than a punishment, huh?” His lips are swollen, his eyes a little unfocused. Emmet’s mouth still hangs open and his cheeks are flushed. You slide back so he can’t grind against you any longer, sitting closer to his knees than his crotch. 

“Look at you. You can bite me, try to act all tough and dominant, but I barely have to do anything, and you’re a mess. Is there anything going on inside your head right now, except thoughts of how badly you want to get fucked by me?” Emmet reaches to grab you again. You pin down his arm with ease, the difference in your strength getting more obvious by the second. When he lurches forward, you place your other hand on the middle of his chest and shove him back against the couch. Emmet whimpers.

“I let you have your fun before. I’m sure you can see that now. You can try as much as you want, but you won’t overpower me.” You tilt your head a little. “I think I like you this way. All nice and quiet. I’ll fuck you nice and hard, like you’ve always wanted, okay?” Your tone is saccharine. “I know you’ll look pretty when I do. You’re already so gorgeous.” 

“Don’t… Don’t flatter me.” He mumbles.

You tentatively raise your hand from his chest. He doesn’t move, so you stroke his cheek. “I mean it, really. You’re beautiful. I can’t imagine you looking any better than you do right now, but I know it’s going to happen.” You rub a circle on his skin with your thumb. “Has everything been alright so far? Is there anything you’d like?”

“I… I don’t mind how you’re talking now, but… Some more praise as well would– Would be nice.”

“Of course. If you’re good from now on, I’ll praise you as much as you want.” He turns his head away from you, pressing the side of his face into the couch. You let him hide for now. Emmet looks at you, quickly shifting his eye away when his gaze meets yours.

After ignoring his needs for so long, you fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. He immediately tries to move again, and you stop your hand entirely. “You won’t get any more praise, acting like that.” He stills his hips. His cock twitches against you as you brush the front of his underwear, soaked with precum. For a moment, Emmet lifts himself in the air, so you can further tug it down.

“Good boy. I didn’t even have to ask.”

You don’t hesitate to wrap your hand around his cock and pump it, only giving it a few pumps before stopping nearby. Your hand isn’t very slick yet right now, despite the precum smeared across your palm, so you don’t imagine it being very comfortable. It’d kind of ruin the momentum, but you don’t want to rub his dick raw, so you’ll have to ask Ingo to grab some lube from the bedroom.

“Pocket.” Emmet says, and shifts his hips.

“What?” 

“Just check it.” When you dig your hand into it, you pull out a tiny bottle of lube. You can’t help but laugh. Still, you pop it open and squirt some on your hand. “So, you came prepared? What were you planning on doing, exactly?”

“It’s convenient. You’re glad I had it.” Emmet stares at you as you slowly rub the lube onto your other hand as well, staring at the strings it makes when you spread your fingers apart. “Stop stalling. Are you nervous? Maybe… Maybe you’re not as good at ‘fucking me silly’ as you say. You’re taking forever.”

You pull both his underwear and pants further down. You’re no longer touching his dick, and you ghost over his hole with one of your fingers. “What I think,” you say. “Is that you’re simply needy and impatient.” As you dip the tip of your finger inside, he bucks against your touch, proving your statement. You pull away entirely. Instead, you run your finger up the side of his cock. When he tries to get more pleasure there as well, you put your hands back in your lap. 

“This won’t work. Either you ask nicely, or you stop moving at all. Wasn’t it praise that you wanted?” You never needed to tell Ingo such things. It was like submission came like a second nature to him. It’s only now that you realise he’d likely picked up on perfect obedience underneath his little brother’s care. “You want it, and that’s okay. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, that you want me to pump you nice and full.” His face becomes, somehow, even redder.

“No.” He responds. You put your hand down on his thigh, leaving behind a smear of lube.

“‘No’ to what part?”

“All of it.” You sigh.

“You’re only making this difficult for yourself. Look at you. I’ve never seen you this red.” You slowly stroke his cock, even continuing when he ends up moving against you. “You’re leaking and twitching constantly.” You smile a little. “You look so good right now, Emmet. Really. I’ll make you feel nice, if you just let me.” 

He doesn’t respond, instead pressing his face up against the couch again. You decide on a different approach. You grab his hand, and press it against your crotch. “Do you feel it?”

“...Yes.” He responds, a little breathless, burying his face further in.

“That’s all because of you. It’s not that I don’t want to touch you myself, I can tell you that.” You let Emmet touch you, to cup your cock in his hands and for him to eventually turn back at you, not quite staring you in the eye. As you let him do so, you start jerking him off once again, letting him grind against you as much as you want. He gasps for air with a loopy smile on his face, precum leaking down into your hands and dick throbbing.

If this works to make Ingo more honest, maybe it’ll work on his twin as well.

“Emmet. What do you want?” For extra measure, you grind your cock against his hand. He’d been pent up for so long, that it takes no time at all for him to get to the edge. 

“I want– I want it, want you!” He babbles, the loudest moan yet clearly sounding from his mouth.

“And what do we say when we want something?”

Emmet squeezes his eyes shut and whines as you slow down. “Please.”

“That’s it! You did so well for me.” You don’t pick up the pace again with your hand, though. You have no intention of letting him cum just yet. Finally, you slip your finger inside him and slowly sink in further. Emmet slides down further on the couch so his ass sticks out more, granting you easier access. His insides are clenching around your finger. Emmet lifts up his head and drops it back against the back of the couch, mouth hanging open as quick breaths pass through. In no time at all, you’re adding the second finger. He’s already trembling a little. You curl and spread your fingers apart, trying to find that one spot that you can find inside Ingo without thinking.

Once you brush against his prostate, his breath hitches and his hips twitch. “Found it. Now, Emmet, what I’m touching right now…” You press down once more, pulling another whimper for him. He’s nowhere near as loud as Ingo, but it’s enough. You press your thgihs together. “That little spot is your prostate.”

“I- I know that,” The tip of his tongue peeks past his lips when you apply more pressure. “I am Emmet. I am not stupid.”

“You’re being so loud… I figured it didn’t get touched much before. Or maybe– Just not by anyone else? How often have you touched yourself like this, thinking of me?” His silence is telling, but the way his insides flutter around your fingers even more so. “Ah, I can just tell you that you love it already. And these are only my fingers.”

The whole time, you’ve been keeping a bit of an eye on Ingo as well. He’s as enraptured with the both of you as ever, taking momentary pauses in between his strokes to ensure he doesn’t cum. If he’d looked any less interested in all of this, you would’ve given him attention before.

“Ingo, c’mere. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a closer look too, right? Emmet looks so gorgeous.” The weight on the couch shifts besides you. Emmet’s eyes immediately shift to Ingo, cock pulsating in your hand at his presence. “What do you think?”

"I think... Emmet, you look incredibly beautiful right now. Certainly, you always do– But this is still special." He turns to hide his face again, the only thing preventing that being your grip on his face.

"I know, right? Ingo, you know your brother so well. Do you think he's enjoying himself?" You curl your fingers inside him once more, and Emmet spasms at the sudden return of stimulation.

“I’d say, yes, without a doubt.” Ingo sounds a little out of breath. You smile at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you a turn at the same time as me. I’m thinking… Would you like to stare at this pretty face while I fuck him?” Ingo gives you another breathless ‘yes’, and you hand him the bottle of lube. There’s still some left inside it. “You should prepare yourself. Emmet will fuck you while I’m filling him up.” Emmet shudders and you stop touching his cock out of fear he’ll cum already.

He’s becoming even more eager. Grinding his hips against your fingers. You don’t stop, but only because you want to get him ready for your cock as soon as possible. When you add a third finger, his eyes roll back. His smile is wide and his lips are twitching, an endless string of gasps and whimpers falling from his lips. You want to ruin him even more.

When you remove your fingers, Emmet lets out a disappointed whine, before slapping a hand over his mouth. “That was just the loveliest noise.” He narrows his eyes at you, the disappointment still stinging. “Really! I mean it!” 

You wish you didn’t have to, but it’s time to change positions. You get off his lap, and Emmet seems so confused for a moment, that you lean in and give him a kiss. “We’re going to put you in a different position, okay? So I can fulfil my promise, and Ingo gets to feel you too.”

Ingo is still busy spreading himself open on his fingers, having abandoned touching his cock for the time being. When you make eye contact, he turns his head away, flushing deeper. “Can you help make sure Emmet doesn’t fall over? He’s a little out of it.”

Ingo practically scrambles to his feet. Together, you make sure he’s steady and move him around so he’s on his knees, facing Ingo. There’s enough space in front of him for Ingo to lie down, and enough behind him for you to kneel as well. He’s still wobbly. Ingo holds onto him as you get behind him. Once you’re in position and Ingo lets go, he slumps backward and leans against your chest. When Ingo gets down, his ass is pressed against Emmet’s thighs, legs sticking out to the side of you. You grab onto them and pull him a little closer, nearly making him fold over so Emmet can get inside him as well. It’s cramped and a little uncomfortable, you won’t lie, but it’s also absolutely perfect. Emmet is squished in between the two of you.

You guide the head of your cock to Emmet’s hole and press against it. You don’t fill him up all at once, pushing yourself bit by bit inside him. “You- You tease,” During the time he was being repositioned, Emmet must have regained some semblance of coherency. “Fuck me already.”

"I don't want to hurt you, that's all." As you say so, you start going even slower, and he mutters underneath his breath. You can’t reach any higher than his neck, but you pepper his shoulders and throat with kisses.

 “Ingo. Are you ready?” One of his hands is on the side of the couch to balance himself, the other is on Ingo’s ass.”

"I think it would be alright." Ingo says. "But... A tad slower than your usual pace.”

You let Emmet fumble around while trying to slide inside his brother. It’s difficult and, with each attempt, he’s getting more frustrated. You aren’t bottomed out inside him yet. He can’t twist or turn or lean forward too much, or risk causing you discomfort. Or worse, sliding off of your cock entirely. He’s moving carefully. You decide to be sweet, and help. Only the head of his cock is inside Ingo yet.

All at once, you shove the rest of your length inside him, bottoming out with one sharp thrust. The movement presses Emmet forwards as well and forces him deeper inside his brother. It pulls out a strangled noise out of both of them, Emmet clenching around you like he intends on milking you dry.

"Ingo, are you alright?" 

“Y-yes,” He says, shaky, but not sounding pained. “That was- That was too sudden, though, but…” Ingo trails off. 

"Asking him, but not me. Not trying to hurt me, my-" You buck your hips back up into him. He lets out a whimper along with it. 

“Of course you ask him, and not me. ‘I’m trying not to hurt you’, you say. Sure.”

“Ingo was being louder. I had to make sure.”

“He’s always louder!” You grind into him again, and he moans.

“I think you’re rivalling him right now.”

You don’t set a brutal pace or absolutely pound into him. You just set a decent rhythm that spreads both Ingo and Emmet open right before you. It’s a shame you can’t see Emmet’s face at any point, but the glimpses you catch of Ingo’s face somewhat make up for it. He looks wrecked. 

"Ingo, do you think-" You bottom out inside Emmet again and have to bite back a noise of your own. "Could you describe what he looks like for me?"

"So- So good. He looks so good." Ingo gasps out. "He’s- He's smiling a lot, red too. And- A little teary-eyed, but not crying. He just looks so happy. So good." You lean down and press a few kisses up the side of Emmet's neck as you fuck into him. Being closer to him, his cries are even louder as well. None of you are going to last long. 

You press your mouth against his shoulder to muffle your own noises. With how wildly he’s twitching around you, you start losing more and more control over your own pace. Your thrusts become greedier and quicker, chasing your own pleasure. Emmet pulls enough thought together to move instead of only being shaken around, reaching back to pat at your thigh. It’s the first part of your body he can reach. 

You try your best to listen and pick up the pace, putting your final bits of energy into making your thrusts more powerful. You're pushing into his warm heat quicker and quicker, but any semblance of rhythm is gone. 

You kiss his shoulder again. "Gods, you feel so nice. So warm and- You're so good, Emmet. Really, you're the be-best." He cries out, and before you fully think through the idea, you lean forward as much as you can after pushing yourself fully inside him. You take a few moments before finding Ingo's cock and pumping it a couple of times with jerky flicks of your wrist. His mouth falls open, no noise coming out until a guttural moan is ripped from his throat, and he comes all over your hand. 

This sets off a chain reaction. Emmet cries out his brother’s name and, judging by how he tightens around you, fills up Ingo himself. One after the other, you all fall apart, moans and groans all blending until it’s impossible who they’re coming from. Sudden, sharp bliss shoots through you and you gasp out your boyfriend’s name (Emmet, Emmet, Emmet) as you nuzzle your face against his back. 

As soon as the high fades, you notice everything. How sweaty and thirsty you are. How your knees ache from your position. When you shift your cock inside him,  droplets of cum drip from Emmet’s hole, and stains the couch. All of these thoughts occur to you, but you can’t be too bothered by any of them yet. You’re completely relaxed, muscles and worries loosened. The burning ache inside you is gone.

This sentiment isn’t shared by all of you.

Emmet grinds himself back against you already, and you hiss because of how sensitive you still are. You don’t think it’s even been a minute. You need some more time. “More.” Emmet laughs a little. He rests his back against your chest. It’s just as slick with sweat as yours. “You can’t be tired yet. I can still think, so you have to keep going.”

The next morning, you're sore all over and slump into your chair at the table. You're guessing you'll be tired for the rest of the day. You stifle a yawn behind your hand. Ingo's making breakfast for you, and Emmet has yet to appear.

"Goodmorning," Ingo calls out, without turning to face you. "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted. You?" There’s a full glass already ready at your usual spot, and you gulp it down for your parched throat. 

"Very much the same." You laugh a little.

“Maybe we bit off more than we could chew with Emmet.” Ingo snorts. 

"Perhaps. I'll say... It was enjoyable. It'd be nice to do once again in the future, but... Not for a while."

"Agreed. I think if I went again anytime soon, I'd actually die."

Laughter rings out behind you. "You're both weak. Clearly, I win.”

"I wasn’t aware there was a competition." You say, and the scraping of a chair makes you finally look at him. All of you have your set places at the table, with Emmet sitting opposite of you, and Ingo at the head. But he's moving his place around now, sitting next to you and leaning his head on your shoulder. 

When Ingo comes up to give you your plate, he blinks twice at the sight. “Emmet, please let him eat his breakfast in peace.”

Emmet just nuzzles his face against you, and wraps an arm around you.  “Do you hear him complaining? No. You’re just jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” Despite saying this, he drops the plate with a little clang. Emmet grins. 

“He’s my boyfriend now!” Emmet chirps. Ingo moves his chair opposite of you two, and plops down. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s not mine, either. We’re all dating.” You can’t deny that the two bickering over you is kind of fun. 

“Obviously, I know that. I’m just his favourite.” He sticks his tongue out for just a moment.

“Absolutely not.” You say after swallowing your bite of food. “I’m not picking favourites. You’re both great.”

“Emmet and Ingo fall silent for a moment. “...See? I’m his favourite?”

Ingo sighs. “He said, a mere moment ago, that he does not pick favourites.”

“And? I have a theory. That's not  illegal.” 

You can’t take it anymore. You laugh so hard that they both fall silent, and when you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand, Ingo’s smiling at you, and Emmet leaves a little kiss on your cheek. 

“I love you both. That’s all.” You smile. 

“But. ...I call dibs on not being the one who’s going to try and clean the couch.” Ingo and Emmet groan in unison.

[pitayabites]

Yandere Vyn Headcanons

Oh no, everyone's favorite psychiatrist has turned yandere (nobody is surprised)

Warning: Gaslighting + Abuse of power + Mind break?

I do not condone these behaviors in real life

Probably the most canon yandere

Love at first sight was a concept that he despised

The sweet irony that you caught his attention

You’ll take responsibility for it, won’t you?

Humans are multifaceted and he is no exception

But with you, he can only have one face

And it MUST be perfect

If you express interest in a specific character in a show or a game, he’ll watch it and take note of the character’s personality

He will subtly change his personality to match the character if it means you’ll share that love with him

He’ll change everything about himself if it means you’ll spend even one more minute with him

He loves the way your eyes lights up when he performs a card trick or uses mind games to guess what you’re thinking

But if you get impressed by someone else in front of him

He will go out of his way to master whatever impressed you even if it's something small like a magic trick

He won’t lose to anyone in front of you

He’ll keep trying to impress you if it means you’ll have eyes on him

And ONLY him

You can rant about anything, no matter how minuscule

After all, it’s his job

And he has two doctorate degrees to prove it

He’ll quietly lead you to open more about yourself

And before you know, your original conversation about work stress has turned into telling him your entire backstory

Make no mistake, no matter how long it is, he will make a mental note of everything

After all, he wants to know everything about your heart and mind

But he pays special attention to your deepest fears and insecurities They may come in handy later

Soon you would often come to him to vent out your stress

You feel bad for constantly bothering him but he assures you that he is more than happy to help you

You don’t realize it, but you’re starting to rely on Vyn more and more

You ask for his opinion on everything from which tea set to buy to how to tackle a big case

He will drop everything he was doing, even his lectures, if you texted him asking for help

After all, nothing is as important as you

NOTHING

He hates it when other people steal your attention away from him

Especially if they are harassing you or they’re a PUA (pick up artist)

At a glance nothing about his face changes

But if you look closely, all the light is gone from his golden eyes and is replaced by a dead glare

In his head, he is thinking of the easiest way to get rid of this vermin

This disgusting creature who had the absolute nerve to even look at a being as perfect as yourself

Now he isn’t the type to get his hands dirty, but that doesn’t mean he will let this kind of behavior slide

He has a very good reputation and can easily guide the police to arrest the filth

But where’s the fun in that

He can find out of the guy’s background and set up his little puppet show

An anonymous letter to his boss of a recording of his scandalous actions

A list of comments from the guy’s past victims to his family and friends

He will take away everything precious from this low-life one by one

And he will sit back with nothing more than a smirk and a cup of black tea

Now he can clearly see the amount of garbage that surrounds your pure soul every day

He needs to take you away somewhere safe and to keep you with him forever

So he relies on what he knows best, psychology

He will use your compassion against you

His job is so mentally taxing, he’s always there for you, can’t you always be with him?

He knows you will drop everything if he asks for your help, and he abuses it

He will demand more and more of your time to the point you started neglecting work because of him

He’s so sorry (he’s not) that he keeps clinging onto you like this, it’s alright if you want to leave him (he won’t let you leave so easily)

You rush to assure him that he is not a burden to you and you will always prioritize his mental well being first

But because you missed so much work, it piled up and begins to overwhelm you

Artem tries his best to help but he is preoccupied with an even bigger case

The stress of it all was starting to get to you

You lost sleep and skipped some meals in an effort to catch up on your work

But you knew you were fighting a losing battle

So you turned to the one person that you always went to for help

Dr. Ritcher!

Even though he’s not a lawyer, he can still help you collect witness testimony and organize your paperwork

He agreed to help as a thank you for helping him through his "mental crash"

However, he started to plant seeds of doubt into your mind

He constantly criticizes your inferences of the evidence or your plan to defend your clients

Because of the trust you have in him, you start to doubt your judgment and ability as an attorney

But it doesn’t end there

He will present you with evidence or a witness statement that you swear wasn’t there in the first place

Vyn will give you a concerned glance and says that you have been with him while collecting these materials for your trial

He even shows you the police signatures for it

In reality, he’s forging both the evidence and the signatures but hey, the end justifies the means

This kind of mental strain continued for what felt like months but in reality, it was only a few days

You questioned your sanity as Vyn tells you of events you couldn’t recall doing or when Vyn points out all the flaws in your case files

Combined that and your overwhelming schedule and lack of self-care, you mentally break down

Luckily Vyn was there to send you straight to a mental hospital

He ran assessments after assessments with you and you tried your best to answer

But you were so tired…

Vyn later came back and told you that you had severe depression and needed to be transferred to the emergency care department to monitor your state 24/7

You try to insist that you don't have depression but Vyn counters with his no-nonsense tone and points out your lack of self-care and the immense amount of stress you had endured

He makes you stay in the emergency room for a couple of days and cuts off all access to the outside world because it would further “harm” your mental health

With nothing to do, other than talking to yourself or Vyn when he occasional checks upon you, you end up falling deeper into a depressive state

You started to believe that maybe Vyn was right all along and that you needed clinical help

You feel like you’re going crazy and no longer trust your judgment of what is real or not

You ended up just depending on Vyn to tell you

He then claims that you’re clinically insane and needs immediate mental support

What a coincidence that he is your assigned doctor

Vyn makes a treatment plan but oh no your condition is so complicated

You’re going to be here for a long time

But don’t worry, Dr. Ritcher will take care of you

[shurisneakers]

harmless (viii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He doesn’t expect to see you on TV. 

In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.

But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.

You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest. 

He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.

Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.

You better get your ass here, sarge

And so he does.

Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.

“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self. 

“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”

“What’s your dumb plan then?” 

“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”

“Where is it?” 

“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”

Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm. 

The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.

There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.

“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”

“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”

He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”

“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”

He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.

“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction. 

“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.” 

Bucky looks down.

“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”

“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”

“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”

“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”

Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.

"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.” 

“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.

“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”

He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.

“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”

“No. Stay there.”

“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.

“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.

“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked. 

When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome. 

“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.

“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.

He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went. 

“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence. 

Now that simply wouldn’t do. 

Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.

“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.

“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”

“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.

“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him. 

“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”

He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure. 

“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”

“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat. 

“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”

“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.

He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-

“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand. 

You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.

“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you. 

“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.  

“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.

“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately. 

If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.  

The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair. 

“What the fu-”

“Hello,” your voice comes from above him. 

“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.

“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”

He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.

“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.

There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.

“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.

“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.

“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.

“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate. 

“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.

“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.

“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him. 

He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.

“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”

He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.

“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help. 

He rolls his eyes.

You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand. 

He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory. 

He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.

The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.

“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”

He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.

“Right.” You clear your throat. 

He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance. 

“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”

“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.

“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”

He didn’t. 

“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”

Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?

“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”

“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?” 

He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back. 

“You go on missions a lot?” 

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.

He got that reference.

“What’s your favourite food then?”

He scrunches his eyebrows.

“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”

It’s not, he’s just never thought about it. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”

“Vague, but I’ll take it.”

He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own. 

It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side. 

“What do you do in your downtime?”

“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.

“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm. 

There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”

You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?���

He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.

“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”

“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him. 

The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.

“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually. 

He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.

Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle. 

“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”

He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that. 

Frankly, he’s a little stunned.

You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”

At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.

A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.

You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there. 

“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”

“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”

“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.

“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage. 

He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets. 

Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-

“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”

Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”

He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.

The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints. 

You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.

“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job. 

“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”

Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.

Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.

He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.

Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.

You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.

You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.

“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”

He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder. 

“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.” 

He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”

“Bullshit,” you laugh.

“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”

“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”

He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too. 

Next part

[muselin]

Eunhyuk NSFW alphabet

GIF by me, feel free to steal

Kinktober 2021 Day 30

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

A is for awkward. He can't help it, when the post-orgasmic haze dissipates and the reality of the experience sets in, Eunhyuk withdraws slightly. He's very respectful though and will give you your privacy if you want to clean up by yourself. If you reach for him, he'll stay with you a while, lazy kisses will be placed over your skin before excusing himself politely to go clean up.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you it's your hips and ass. He gives me ass man vibes and his hands are glued to your hips more often than not, it cements the link between his hands holding them and his cock pounding into you. On himself it's his shoulders and chest. He's often told he has a good body line and he likes to show it off in tank tops or too-baggy sweaters which hang off his shoulder enticingly.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Not picky at all, loves to cum anywhere you let him. Whether inside you, on your face or chest, he's happy.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dirty secret that he's been outed for already is how much porn he watches (old E.L.F. will know). He has more shame in it now than he used to though and this will be a big secret unless you give indication that you also like porn, and he just might feel inclined to share. The fear of judgment is real with this one, so you'll have to really work at it but when he does disclose, he'll definitely use to his advantage to rile you up by sending you links to videos he thinks you'll both like.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's 36 years old, man has been around, had his fair share of scandals and has always been known as a flirt, a social butterfly and a charmer. He definitely knows his way around the bedroom both casually and in a more committed way and you'll want for nothing with him in terms of technique.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Sitting up as you ride him or doggy style. Visual person, likes to be either watching your chest and face or your ass while he's fucking you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Goofball on crack in everyday situations, but when he's in work mode or fuck mode he's so serious it's intimidating. He's capable of laughing off awkward moments but will quickly be back to serious and passionate again.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's a bit old-school that way and just lets it be.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's been accused of this often (mainly by Donghae, but still) in that he can come across as closed off and unemotional despite his bright and comedic persona. The real Hyukjae feels vulnerable, he doesn't give his heart away nearly as easily as he gives away his dick, and intimacy is not an easy thing for him. If you do achieve it, he'll make you feel like you're the only one in the world that matters. The way he looks at you, the way he kisses you, there's a depth to it that makes you shiver.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

With his porn appetite, he has no shame in satisfying himself when you're not around. A few times a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Lingerie and strip tease or lap dance. He likes the sexy stuff, he likes a performance. If you give him a lap dance he'll die happy. He's a dancer and an instructor through and through, and watching the fruits of your labour in his field makes him ecstatic.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Private person and he's terrified about being actually caught but secretly does enjoy the thrill of it. He'll have sex with you in every room of his house if he's sure that no one can walk in (cough-cough Donghae) but he has a real thing for hotels. He'll take you on lots of overnight hotel or Air BnB stays even in the city, because he likes new places and the assurance that he won't be disturbed.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Compliments. Call him charming, talented, handsome - he'll be putty on your hands. He likes to feel admired and wanted and that motivates him to show you that your admiration and compliments are not misplaced.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He generally ikes to be the pursuer. If you are very pushy with your advances towards him, it's a turn off. It doesn't mean you can't make the first move, but it needs to be subtle - a lingering gaze over his body, holding his eyes for a moment longer than necessary - Eunhyuk is perceptive and he'll pick up on that.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He knows his way around it but prefers receiving. If he's in a mood to be an insufferable tease though- you are getting Oral with a capital O. Once he actually gets into it, he doesn't leave for a long time, until you've come twice or until you've at least been edged twice.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Eunhyuk is not a patient guy, he'll have patience only long enough to get you alone, and from there it's frantic making out, ripping clothes off and getting down and dirty. He's fast but not to the point of overlooking your needs. He knows to tease you to work you up, but the way he's so eager has you matching his pace most of the time anyway. He goes for fast thrusts at a good angle, very measured so no energy is wasted and he can go as long as you need him to.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He has these for breakfast. Well he rarely skips breakfast but sometimes he really will, if it means he gets to have a few extra minutes of good sex. Not having the time or the right place isn't a problem for him. Bend you over the kitchen counter, unzip his fly while you watch TV on the sofa - not a problem and he'll still have enough stamina and appetite for later when you have enough time for a proper session.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I believe that in his younger years he was a big risk taker, but there have been a few too many scandals around him and he's been scared off of things like public or semi-public sex. However, he's also really taken to travelling abroad, including by himself, and to me that says that the risk taker in him is very much alive. If he can guarantee that he won't be caught or shamed, I think he'll take a good share of risks. Take you to dinner with a vibrator inside you and he has the remote, or take you on vacation, take a boat to an island and have sex on a secluded beach behind some rocks at night - that kind of risk he will still take and it will get his blood pumping.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He's 36 and called the lazy dance genius, but he has no problems with stamina if he's not just come back from a concert or something. He can go for two solid rounds.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

A little bit old fashioned so he doesn't have loads of toys but he has the basics - a butt plug, vibrator and a cock ring or two, handcuffs. Most of these are used on his partner but he'll let you use cock rings on him and handcuff him when the mood is right.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually he's too impatient to tease much. He'd much rather get straight to business. However, sometimes he really gets in a mood to make a whole session be about teasing you and edging you. Slow kisses down your neck, spending excessive amounts of time sucking on your nipples and letting you to grind helplessly on his lap to get some relief, spending a long time between your legs licking and sucking you almost to the edge, then withdrawing with a grin while you look ready to cry or hit him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not very loud but he lets his noises out. Harsh breathing, grunts, moans. The better he feels, the more carnal and gorgeous his moans sound and it's a definite motivation for you to pull them from him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

A dancer through and through. More often than not he'll be teaching you a routine or some moves and you'll start goofing off, making him position you in certain ways and getting up close to show you how to do a move and you'll bait him with looks, a lip bite here and there, bringing your body to press against his and before you know it, you're making out and clothes are flying to the floor. Sex on the floor with Eunhyuk just sort of happens and you're so used to it that rug burn and bruises to your knees don't bother you at all anymore. Not when he's pounding into you from behind fast and hard, being louder than usual because of the sheer passion that's overcome him.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's a good size, about average or slightly longer, nice shape and girth. You won't be wanting for anything and he really knows how to use what he's got well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Remains on the higher side and he's not above negotiating for things like quickies or free use while you sleep if he's really needing some release.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually has a hard time falling asleep by himself but sex is a great remedy to this for him and he's out like a light once he's made sure you're okay and he's cleaned up.

[rocorambles]

Meeting in the Middle

Pairing: Sakusa x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking

Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.

A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?

But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.

It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.

You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.

“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”

Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.

“Neither am I.”

Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.

Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.

But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.

He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.

You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.

“You look like you’ve had better days.”

Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.

“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”

“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”

You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.

Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.

But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.

“What is that?”

“Dinner…”

Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.

“You didn’t cook?”

The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.

You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.

Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?

Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.

If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.

But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.

Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.

Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.

“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”

The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.

Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.

You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.

Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.

It’s time to put an end to this charade.

It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.

There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.

“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”

“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”

You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.

“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”

You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.

Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.

You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.

“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”

There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.

Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.

“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”

You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.

All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.

All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.

Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.

How beautifully you break.

Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?

Accepting each other’s differences.

[blondiebarnes]

in the middle

summary: steve and bucky just got home from a tough mission, and you’re determined to make them feel good.

pairing: steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader

warnings: smut! threesome, male & female receiving oral, established relationship, cumplay, basically just porn

word count: 6.5k

For the most part, you’ve gotten used to being by yourself when Steve and Bucky are on missions.

You don’t like it - not in the slightest - it goes without saying that you’d love nothing more than to go on missions with them when they’re called in the dead of night but it hardly, if ever, works out that way. They’re nearly always sent together (Fury says they balance each other out, and you’re not exactly sure you know why or how but you’ve learned to accept whatever your director says at face value) and you’re generally excluded from their missions. They get too protective, can ignore the objectives of a mission when you’re in danger, and it’s a sweet sentiment but you know it’s an issue, even if you appreciate it.

And you are used to it. Really, you are. It’s been a year of having them called off in the middle of the night, leaving you sleeping in bed with a lingering kiss to your forehead as you dip out the door - occasionally they’ll wake you up (usually Bucky, because he tends to be a bit more sentimental, though he’d never dare to admit it) and give you a proper kiss, but for the most part you simply wake up in a too-large bed that’s void of the two super soldiers sandwiching you between their warm bodies, and it never fails to feel any more jarring.

That’s what happened Friday. You simply woke up on a day like any other and they were gone, leaving nothing but ruffled covers and a small sticky note pressed to your cell phone in Steve’s scribbled handwriting, telling you that it shouldn’t last more than the weekend and we love you so much and a small smiley face that looks to be more of Bucky’s doing, but you can’t be sure.

It had been a long weekend.

Movies and books and making dinner, and work had been so slow recently with no new missions on the come-up that you need to be called away on, so you’ve been primarily holed up in your apartment watching the time tick by and waiting for your boys to come home. You’d even called Nick at one point, in your boredom, to inquire about how their mission was going, and he told you (paraphrased, of course) that they were doing just fuckin’ great and should be home by Monday, and Monday couldn’t have fucking come any slower.

You’ve been lying awake for nearly three hours since you settled into bed on Sunday night, covers pulled tight against your chin to protect yourself from the January cold that nips at your skin, even after you’ve set the thermostat to 71 degrees. Steve likes it cold - Bucky warm - you laugh at the irony of it, much to the latter’s chagrin - and you prefer it being right in the middle.

The TV plays on mute a rerun of some old movie you’ve never heard of, black and white film running rickety slow and glitching, though you’ve long since given up paying attention to it. You’d been on Pinterest for an hour before getting bored and plugging your phone in on your nightstand, and you’d begun flipping through one of Steve’s favorite books he loves to read to you sometimes, and now - you simply gaze at the ceiling in your boredom, fingers interlocked on top of your stomach, boredom settling in every crevice of your body.

You’re not sure what, exactly, you’re waiting awake for. Not even sure if you’re waiting or simply unable to sleep - it feels like a 50/50 situation, at least at the moment - but there’s still something inherently wrong with sleeping in bed without your boys. Curling into Bucky’s chest while Steve is pressed to his back, the latter’s hand wrapped around to rest on your lip while a metal hand slides up your shirt, cupping your breast just to hear the way you squeal at the chill - or, alternatively, sandwiching yourself between them as Steve practically throws his mass on top of you and Bucky squishes your face into his hard back.

Empty. You feel empty, in more ways than one, and that’s what’s keeping you awake, you decide after a long fifteen minutes of contemplating on it. Your boys complete you. It’s not right without them -

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear the front door knob jiggling from across the apartment, and you jerk upright as though someone had doused you with freezing cold water (not that it would be much of an adjustment from the temperature your apartment feels, but the implication still stands.)

If you were smarter - or perhaps less groggy - maybe you’d dig through your nightstand for the gun you keep in case of any intruders, buried beneath notebooks and stray pieces of paper decorated with small smudged sketches that Steve puts on any smooth surface he can find. It’s loaded and ready to go - all you’d need to do is dig through and grab it, creep outside the bedroom door and take down whomever may be invading your home -

Just as you roll onto your side to dig through your drawer and find the weapon, the front door fully opens with a jingle of keys and the scuffling sounds of footsteps, and you pause, listening to the voices that roll through the apartment, hushed and breathy.

“Fuckin’ - tripped over my foot,” comes a familiar voice, louder than the one who follows right after him, murmuring for him to shut the hell up - are you trying to wake up the entire city? -

You’re out of bed faster than you can even process, covers mercilessly kicked to the very bottom of the bed in your haste. The hardwood is cold against your bare feet and the air bites at your skin, wearing nothing but one of Steve’s old t-shirts that falls to your mid thighs and a pair of lace panties that peeks out of the shirt when you bend over or reach up or do anything, really - it’s a bit of a scandalous look - but you pay no mind to it, opening the door and tearing down the hallway into the foyer.

You’ve smacked into a hard, thick body before you could stop yourself, arms thrown around Steve’s torso as you bury your face into his chest, and you can practically feel his deep laugh before you hear it but you do hear it, clear as day, and it brings a grin to your face that’s only deepened when Bucky tugs at your waist, pulling you into his back, arms wrapped around your stomach as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“Fury said you guys wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” you tell them, letting your body relax into Bucky’s embrace as Steve traces his fingers across your jawline, tilting your head up so he can press one light kiss to your puckered lips. His arms snake around your waist, sandwiched between your back and Bucky’s chest, fingertips clutching tight onto the loose fabric of the shirt you’re donning and he uses it as leverage to hold you closer to him.

“It was an easy one,” Steve replies, leaning forward just a bit until you’re fully pressed between the two soldiers, your head squished into his chest as he inhales the scent of your shampoo, nose buried into the top of your head. “Can’t believe you called Fury about it - missed us that much, hmm?”

A dry chuckle jostles the body behind you, feeling Bucky’s warm laughter against your neck, and you bite on your bottom lip as you nod. “‘Course I missed you - don’t get cocky -” for you’d just caught sight of Steve’s smug grin, toying his lips upward, and you use the top of your head to push him away from you in mock disgust, leaning further into Bucky’s grasp. He hums softly, breath ruffling your hair, messy from your failed attempts to sleep. “S’so lonely here.”

“Aww,” murmurs Bucky, lips pressing warm kisses into the exposed expanse of your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to give him easier access as Steve crosses his arms over his chest, watching the pair of you at work. “Poor baby.”

“Hey -” you reach behind you, running your hands through long, brunette locks just to feel the way Bucky smiles against your skin. “At least you two have each other on missions, getting each other off - I’m here all by myself. Nothin’ but the fingers.” “There’s a lot less time to get your rocks off in the middle of a mission than you’d think.”

“Is there?” you inquire playfully as Bucky’s lips trail further up your neck, landing on a spot just beneath your jawline and suckling the soft skin - the teasing lilt in your voice that you’d intended to sound confident and self-assured gets breathier and just a tad more pathetic as you continue, “Sam and I always seem to have enough time -”

Bucky grunts against your cheek, murmuring something you can’t quite make out about how he hates that fuckin’ bird boy, and a grin spreads across your face that mirrors Steve’s as he watches you. Bucky tilts your head to the side with two fingers pressed to your chin so he can ghost his lips over yours but you deepen it, pushing your face further into his as you wrap one of your arms around his neck, tugging at his hair to hear him groan into your mouth and you swallow the noise. You can practically sense Steve rolling his eyes both at your teasing and the way Bucky’s absolutely devouring you, the metal hand around your waist trailing up your torso and leaving goosebumps in its wake until he reaches your chest, cold fingers plucking at your nipple, and your chest arches into his hand with a broken gasp into his mouth.

“Better tell Sam not to touch what isn’t his,” Steve tells you, and you nod, watching the blonde take a few steps forward and for a moment you wonder if he’ll lean down, take your lips from Bucky’s and kiss you until you’re practically putty in his hands but instead he pushes past the both of you, disappearing down the hallway behind you, and you crane your neck backwards to watch his back as he vanishes around a corner.

For a moment you wonder if Bucky hadn’t seen him leave, continuing his ministrations on your nipples as his teeth bite at your bottom lip as though there’d been no interruption, his mouth turning up into a smug smirk at the way you whimper into his mouth. God, you’ve missed his touch, clever hands knowing exactly how to make you fall apart for him even without slipping into the lace of your panties, and your mouth opens in a silent gasp as his flesh palm presses to the skin of your stomach.

“Wanna go see Stevie?” the soldier questions into your mouth, voice low and sultry smooth, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Tough mission for him.”

You frown at that as Bucky pulls away from you, leaving one lingering kiss to the side of your throat as he pulls your shirt down over your lower half. “Thought he said it was easy.”

“It was,” and that makes your brows furrow as his metal hand wraps around your wrist, beginning to pull you down the hallway where your bedroom door is swung wide open. “But Fury ripped him a new one, ‘cause he disobeyed his orders - got the mission done fine - but you know how Stevie hates having his authority questioned.”

Your lips part in a silent o, and Bucky smirks ever so slightly before leading you into the bedroom where Steve sits at the edge of the bed, peeling off his suit and kicking it off of his ankles. Bucky shuts the door behind you, immediately working at tugging his vest over his head and you leave him to it, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor until you reach Steve, and you merely stand before him until he’s finished taking his clothes off, leaving him clad in only a pair of boxers.

“Do you need something?” Steve questions, glancing up at you with an amused glint in his eyes and you groan, lifting your leg up to straddle his lap, calves on either side of his, and his hands go to rest on the underside of your thigh like an instinct. For a moment you don’t say anything, grinding your hips down into his until his hands slide up your back, tugging your shirt up over your torso so he can press his cold palms to the globes of your ass, halting you in place. “Words, baby.”

“Want you to boss me around,” you tell him, dropping your lips to the side of his throat, and his dry exhale of a laugh blows at your hair as his fingers slip beneath the scrap of lace between your ass, fully digging into the plump skin, and you smile against his neck. “Missed you bein’ bossy.”

“Really?” You nod, feeling the bed dip beside you until there’s another set of hands on your body, tugging the hem of your shirt up until you’re forced to remove your lips from Steve’s neck so Bucky can pull your shirt off, littering it onto the ground beside you. Steve leans his head back as both you and Bucky lean forward, your lips to his throat and the other soldier taking his lips so that the next words he speaks are muffled into the kiss, “Sure Bucky didn’t put you up to this, baby?”

“Who’s Bucky?” 

That makes both of them laugh into each other and you smile, leaning back in his lap as you take in the sight of them - lips crashed together, metal hand burying itself in blonde locks that he hasn’t cut in a while, hair brushing the tips of his ears, and Steve’s hand that had been on your ass drops, seemingly forgotten about his job - you huff, wrap your hand around his wrist, and lift his palm up to rest against your left breast.

Instinctively he squeezes, and the two men pull apart from each other as Bucky leans forward to kiss the top of your head, flesh hand sliding down your stomach until he can push into the damp lace fabric of your panties, and you jolt against his hand as he brushes your clit. “Can’t possibly think we forgot about you,” he tells you, and you shrug, watching the way he smiles. “Come on, Stevie, you heard her - wants you to boss her around.”

And Steve is surely still doubtful of your intentions - it isn’t as though you’ve ever asked him to boss you around before - it typically just happens when he’s pissed or upset or happy -

It happens a lot. He’s a bossy guy, both in the field and out of it, and he’s more than happy to give demands and orders and he loves to see you follow them.

Bucky is - usually along for the ride. He’s the calming voice in your ear when Steve is edging you until you’re screaming, the gentle touch when you’ve been overstimulated for an hour, the smooth, sultry kiss when you’re being filled so deep from both ends you feel entirely numb - and he can be mean, too, metal hand tightening around your throat and smirking at the way you sob -

Well, it depends.

“Get on the bed,” Steve tells you, and regardless of whether he’s suspicious of you and Bucky his voice is already hardening and if the words weren’t implicitly sexual, perhaps you could fool yourself into thinking you’re on the field - you listen, though. You always do - swing your legs off of his lap and land on your back on the bed, watching as Steve stands and Bucky merely turns around, leaning back on his arms as he watches you, your leg hiked up to give a limited, tantalizing view to the lace covered pex of your thighs.

“Buck - wanna get behind our girl?”

The phrase our girl never fails to make your stomach flutter, and the feeling only intensifies as Bucky grunts in affirmation, crawling towards you, and with hands hooked under your armpits he lifts you to sit, your back pressed to his chest. Hands reach up to your chest, cupping your tits in flesh and metal palms that have a chill rolling through your spine, hips grinding back against the erection you can feel pressed into your back.

“Spread your legs,” Steve tells you, and you oblige, feet sliding across the bed to spread yourself as wide open as you can, and Bucky’s metal hand leaves your chest to grab onto one of your thighs, forcing it open wide enough that a burn spreads through your muscle. “Yeah - don’t fuckin’ move, baby - hold her down, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice, moving his other hand so he’s holding both of your thighs, and you can feel wetness dripping down your cunt onto the sheets as Steve stands still, for a moment, just watching the pair of you - your chest heaves and you can feel Bucky’s fingers twitch against your thighs, surely desperate to caress your tits just the way he always likes to, but he wouldn’t dare disobey Steve when he’s like this. You know it, and he knows it, and you’re sure Steve knows it too - he looks so smug, even as he climbs onto the bed, resting on his stomach as he presses his cheek into your thigh, warm breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers hook into the soaked material of your panties, feeling the stickiness that coats your folds and the undergarment, and with not a second of hesitation he rips them in half, tugging them off your leg and tossing the ruined scrap of lace onto the ground.

Your instinct is to reach down and run your fingers through his hair as he lowers his mouth to your pussy, tongue flicking once over your clit, but the second your hands jerk in their spot resting overtop of Bucky’s, Steve is reaching up - one hand manages to wrap around both of your wrists, holding your hands in place on top of your stomach with a grip so tight it’ll surely leave bruises that will darken in the morning.

You groan softly as Steve lifts his head, gaze hard and unforgiving as he stares at you, and then his gaze moves behind you where you know he must be having some sort of silent conversation with Bucky - they’re so good at that - before he’s leaning back down, teeth gnashing at your clit with enough force to make you jolt.

“Think Stevie said not to fuckin’ move, sweetie,” Bucky murmurs, lips sucking a dark hickey just beneath your ear, and a low whine escapes your throat as Steve’s tongue laps up your sticky folds before centering on your clit. “Didn’t you, honey?” And Steve hums in affirmation, pulling back to spit harshly at your clit, and you exhale skaily as you feel the glob of coldness trickle down your folds. “Move again, and I’ll punish you,” he tells you, which is more generous than he typically is when he’s in this state but you suppose the excitement of arriving home after a shitty, weekend mission must not have worn out yet. “Be a good girl for us, baby.”

You nod furiously, Bucky’s forearms hooking beneath your knees until the ache in your thighs nearly tips the balance of pain and pleasure but it’s still leaning towards the latter - more so as Steve dips his head back down, lips wrapping around the sensitive nub at your core that tears a moan from your throat, and you bite at your lips to try and silence the noises.

“Never told you to be quiet,” Steve mumbles against your cunt, vibrations from his voice sending a shiver up your spine, and Bucky smiles against one of the many hickies he’s leaving on your neck - you’re sure you’ll look a damn sight tomorrow, made of practically entirely concealer to hide the marks he’s obsessed with, but you don’t have it in you to stop. “Let us hear your noises - how good we’re making you feel.”

You drop your head back into Bucky’s shoulder with a desperate cry as Steve’s flexed tongue circles your clit before running back down your slit, parting your folds until he can slip his tongue inside of your hole, thrusting it in and out a few times, lips turning upwards at your resulting whine. Bucky’s nails leave deep, crescent-shaped indentations in the smooth skin of your inner thigh, and you can feel his erection pressed thick and swollen against your back. Surely he’s just as wound up as you are - and as much as Steve is, his hips rutting against the edge of the bed as though of their own accord - but he doesn’t do much of anything at all to alleviate the pressure, breathy exhales in your ear as your hips rub against his bulge.

“Wanna hold her open for me, Buck?” Steve questions, pulling back just a mere inch from your swollen clit before dipping his head back down, tongue licking a fat stripe through your folds before lust-blown blue orbs lift up to meet the ones behind you - you can feel Bucky’s hair, brushing against your cheek as he nods once, and your brows furrow in confusion. Surely he’s already holding you open, hands forcing your thighs so far apart that you can feel the burn in every inch of your body - and then he drops one of your thighs against the bed, metal hand trailing down to your cunt, and his fingers dip through your folds, spreading them apart and exposing your swollen clit further to the blonde between your legs. Steve adjusts himself, moving towards the side so he can press his face into your pussy without hitting Bucky’s fingers, and his tongue circles your clit once more.

You moan at the sight, nearly going cross eyed as you stare down at Steve. It’s so erotic, watching everything in your most sacred of areas, Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s face buried so intensely into your cunt you’re sure he can’t possibly breathe - he moans against your folds every so often, as though the act of giving you pleasure makes him feel just as good, and you don’t doubt it for a moment.

“Steve -” you gasp, back arching up, and Steve uses his hand around your wrist to force you back down onto the bed wordlessly - you drop pathetically back onto the duvet, a tear sliding down your cheek, and you can hear Bucky tut behind you, cold fingers slipping on the moisture coating your folds. “Steve - fuck -”

“Gonna cum, baby?” “Yes,” you breathe, hips bucking backwards into Bucky’s erection and he lets out a choked gasp into your ear, head falling back against the headboard with a loud thud that rings through the room. “Yes, need to - please -”

Steve pulls away, then - you cry out at the loss of warmth between your legs - and his nose nudges Bucky’s fingers, prompting the soldier behind you to take the cue to dip his metal digits into your cunt, the cold thickness stretching you out until you’re preening at the sensation. “Think she’s been a good girl? Think she should cum, Buck?”

You want to scream at the pause between the question and Bucky’s answer - he hums for a moment, as though in deep thought, fingers buried down to the knuckle inside of you and body practically leaning over yours so his metal arm can reach, brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision go fuzzy. He takes too fucking long, Steve’s grasp on your wrist pressed to your tummy the only thing keeping your hips from bucking up to force pressure into your cunt, before he finally says, “You’ve been good for us, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” you practically squeal as his fingers pull out hardly an inch before pumping back in, curling upwards again to hit your G-spot. “Yes, please, been so good, Bucky -”

“Cum for us, sweetie -”

You hardly wait for him to finish his sentence when Steve lowers his lips to your clit, wrapping around the bud and sucking until his cheeks hollow out, and your hips jerk desperately into his face as the waves of euphoria rack through your body, tearing a desperate sob from your throat as Bucky thrusts his fingers in and out of you, nearly hitting the side of Steve’s face in his haste to get you off, and he’s doing a damn good job at it - your hips jut into his back as you cum into their mouth and fingers, stuttering groans leaving your mouth one after another.

Steve’s mouth never leaves your clit - not even when your hips thrash against his mouth and you tear your hands free of his grasp to dig into his hair, attempting to stop his ministrations on your clit but he refuses - your folds drip wetness into his waiting mouth and he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, Bucky’s fingers lazily thrusting in and out of you as his chest rises and falls against your back, dropping your other thigh to hook an arm around your torso and hold you close to him.

Hold her down, Steve had told him, and he seems more than content to oblige with the order, whispering loving nothings in your ear that you can’t bring yourself to understand, words coming through as nothing more than incoherent babble to your brain muddled with the pressure to cum already building in your core again -

“Oh,” you whimper, heels digging into the mattress as Steve’s tongue laps over your folds and Bucky’s finger before settling on your clit again, flicking the nub over and over until you feel yourself fucking burst - “oh, fuck!”

It’s entirely more intense than the first one, Steve’s teeth nibbling at your clit as you topple over the edge like a row of dominoes - fire shoots through every limb, every crevice of your body until you’re shaking, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes and trickling down to your jawline. Your thighs tense, a high pitched cry piercing the air of the room as the aftershocks overtake your body, leaving you trembling into Bucky’s grasp as Steve pulls off your clit with a pop.

“That’s good,” Bucky whispers into your ear, pulling his metal fingers out of you once the shaking rolling through your body has come to a relative halt - through your blurred vision you can see Steve take the digits in his mouth, licking them clean eyes rolling up to meet Bucky’s, and he groans softly. “Good girl.”

Steve leaves one last kiss to your swollen clit before moving up your body, and you’re quick to lean forward, wrapping a quivering arm around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss - it’s rough and biting, teeth clashing together and his tongue swiping into your mouth without a moment for you to catch your breath, and when he pulls away his breathing is noticeably heavier than before. 

“Yeah, you’re good for us,” he tells you, bringing a hand up to stroke at the soft skin of your cheek before pulling it back and smacking it back down - it’s not hard, not by a long shot, but it’s enough to draw another whimper from your throat at the soft sting. “On your knees.”

Your legs feel shaky but you manage to push yourself to your knees, resting your arms around Steve’s shoulders to hold yourself up as Bucky shuffles behind you, slotting his hips against your ass so you can feel his bulge through his boxers - he grinds himself into your ass, sliding his arms around your waist just as Steve tugs his own boxers down, fist lazily pumping his cock as you watch him.

“You know what?” the blonde murmurs after a moment of you watching him, your cunt throbbing in need. “Think I’m gonna take your throat.”

You whine at that as Steve pulls away abruptly, leaving you nearly collapse onto your stomach but Bucky’s arm around your stomach mercifully holds you up, practically manhandling you as he turns you around, shoving you onto your back with your head nearly dangling off the bed as he crawls up your body, leaving lingering kisses on the smooth expanses of skin exposed to him. Large hands force your thighs open, pushing his hips in between your legs, and you whimper as his cock rubs against your overstimulated clit, even through the fabric of his boxers -

Steve stands beside the bed, smoothing his fingers through your matted hair as you come face to face with his cock, throbbing red and leaking precum down the sides, and your mouth practically waters at the sight - then Bucky’s pulling his own boxers down, swollen tip of his dick sliding through your sodden folds wettened from the aftermath of two orgasms. You push your thighs farther apart, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for Steve and he grins down at you, the expression looking less joyful and more downright smug and don’t you love seeing him like this? All dominant and intense, like he could control you if he pleased, and he does please -

His cock shoves forward into your throat at the same moment Bucky sheathes himself inside of your cunt fully, and a choked cry forces its way out of your mouth, reverberating through Steve’s body until he lets out a strangled grunt. Your nose brushes against the trimmed hair at his pelvis, hollowing your throat to take him in the best you can, and his grip on your hair tightens as leverage to hold you onto him.

“Oh - oh, shit,” Bucky gasps, the noise stuttered and breathy, and the hands on your thigh move up to squeeze your waist, grasp tough and bruising against your skin. “Fuck, fuck -”

You gag around Steve as he finally pulls out of your mouth, leaving just the tip on your tongue, and you swirl it around him - he drops his head back with a groan and when he speaks, his words are shallow, controlled - “Feels good, Buck?”

“So good, Stevie -” Bucky thrusts himself out of you before pushing back in, cunt stretching around his girth and your eyes roll back at the coil of pleasure already building in your lower stomach as his pace picks up, hips working faster and faster until the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers your desperate mixture of moans and cries -

Nearly. Not completely.

Steve tugs at your hair and you remember your job to suck him off and you let him push your head forward, lips wrapping around his girth and tongue flattening to lap at the thick vein on the underside - his resulting groan is immediate, is desperate, and your urge to smile is only thwarted by Bucky’s metal hand pressing to your clit as his hips slam against yours.

Your hips jerk against his, pressure on the most sensitive point of your body making your eyes roll back once more as Steve’s cock slides in and out of your throat, both hands buried tight in your hair until there’s nothing else you can do than just take both of them - you bring your hands from their spot clutching the duvet to your tits, shaking fingertips kneading at your peaked nipples, and you’re not sure if the needy whine that emits from Bucky’s throat is due to his cock slamming into your pussy or from the sight of you toying with your boobs, but either one is reasonable, you decide.

It takes hardly a moment to work the three of you into a rhythm, but when you get it, it’s perfect - Bucky thrusts into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel him in every crevice of your body, and once he pulls out Steve pushes himself into your mouth, tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat just to hear you gag around him. Every once in a while, though, there’s a stutter in the pattern, and both men pull out to ram into your cunt and mouth at the same time, and the three of you cry out in unison.

Bucky’s flesh hand moves to your thigh, pushing it up so far that your knee nearly touches your chest and the burn only heightens the pleasure he’s giving you as he hits the sweet spot buried deep in your cunt over and over like he’s memorized exactly where it is - and surely he has - they know your body better than you do, sometimes - know just how to make you scream. Metal fingers tweak at your clit and your hips grind up into his, pushing him deeper and deeper into you, and you moan around Steve’s dick.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bucky groans, hips slowing deliberately in pace but it’s still fast enough to make your head spin - Steve moves one hand to your face, grabbing your chin and holding you in place with his cock still halfway down your throat. “Fuck - want me to fill you up, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Tell me,” he insists, and your eyes squeeze shut as you exhale through your nose. “Want me to fill you up?”

Steve pulls out until only the tip of his length rests in your mouth, and you swallow thickly before saying, words a desperate sob, “Please - please cum in me, Bucky, baby, please - fill me up -”

“Good girl,” the brunette between your thigh grunts, squeezing your clit harshly and your back arches, Steve slipping his cock all the way back in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and you gag around him as he moans. “Good - fuckin’ - girl -”

With a few more harsh thrusts into your pussy Bucky’s hips halt, pressed taut to yours, filling you to the brim, and his head drops backwards, lips parting with a drawn out, silent scream before he fully cries out, and you feel his ribbons of cum in your cunt - the warmth filling you up is enough to snap the coil building in your abdomen and you sob around Steve as you cum onto Bucky, core clenching around him like a vise as he holds you to him. 

“Yes, yes -” Bucky’s voice sounds far away as your muscles go lax, collapsing like putty onto the bed with the grasps on your head and your hips the only thing grounding you to Earth - “yes, takin’ me so fuckin’ good -”

It’s then that Steve gives one last thrust, deep in your throat, and his grip on your chin forces you to look up at him, meeting his stern eyes and he’s so close you can see it reflected in his orbs - they’re dark, pupils wide, and you whimper. “Don’t swallow,” he whispers, tone sounding similar to that of a hiss, and you nod. “Don’t swallow a single drop.”

Your head bobs up and down as Steve’s hand pumps up and down the base of his cock, his cry strangled and needy when he finally releases into your mouth - he cums in spurts onto your tongue and you keep it stuck out for him, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to swallow everything he’s given you but he looks so proud of you when he’s finished and every drop still rests on your tongue and you prefer that look of admiration over the taste, really.

“Kiss her, Buck -”

And Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice, both hands moving to your neck and pulling you up so vigorously your head is spinning when he crashes his lips to yours. His tongue slips into your mouth and you part your lips for him, cum dribbling out of the sides of your mouth and he laps it up like a dying man, palms pressed to your tits. You can see the bob of his throat when he swallows everything you’ve forced into his mouth and you swallow the rest, parting your lips from him with a gasp, practically heaving for air in the bedroom that suddenly feels humid, smelling of sex and cum and desire and remarkably like your two boys themselves.

Steve collapses onto the bed first. He grabs for Bucky, tugging him into his chest and you sit on your knees for a moment, simply watching them - they fall into tandem with each other like they were made for it, and maybe they were, Steve’s face nuzzling into Bucky’s back and you’re never surprised by the sudden vulnerability of your captain immediately after sex. The first time you’d joined them you’d suspected he was embarrassed but you don’t think he is 

He’s in love.

It’s a sweet thought.

Bucky wraps his metal hand around your wrist and pulls you down to him, his chin resting on top of your head as you press your cheek to his sweaty chest, feeling his arm wrap around your back. He’s silent, using his foot to kick the comforter up from where it’s been shoved to the bottom of the bed, and when it’s far enough up Steve reaches down to pull it over the three of you, drowning you in its warmth even though you’re not feeling quite cold anymore.

“I don’t know,” you say, after a moment of silence, voice muffled against Bucky’s chest. “It feels like I’m the only one getting ganged up on, nowadays.”

They laugh at that, Bucky’s flesh palm smoothing up and down your back. “You asked for it,” Steve tells you, and you shrug.

“Still.” You move to rest your chin on Bucky’s chest, and he nearly goes cross eyed to meet your eyes as he looks down at you. “Maybe, one of these days, we could tie Stevie up. Have our way with him.”

“He’d love that,” Bucky muses, and you can practically hear Steve rolling his eyes.

“Yeah - right after a mission, when he’s all wound up -”

“Hey,” Steve warns, and you smile.

“I don’t think there are restraints strong enough for those muscles, anyway,” you murmur, and Bucky smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You fall into silence again, and after a couple of minutes you hear Steve’s soft snoring, followed by Bucky’s, until you’re the last awake between the three of you. They’re rightfully exhausted, surely getting little to no sleep over the weekend - you like hearing how peaceful they sound when they’re resting, even after fucking you so silly you were practically crying.

You smile as you bury your face into Bucky’s chest. Shit, maybe Fury was right - maybe they do balance each other out, a bit.

[thefanficmonster]

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days. 

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

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[seriouslysnape]

Picture Perfect

__

Draco Malfoy x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Sexual implications (a lottttt of them)

A/N: I might do a part two to this...

Word Count: 1,635

“Like them? I love them.”

__

You watched with anticipation as Draco popped another one of the Bertie Botts Flavour Beans into his mouth. His sculpted jaw moved up and down as he chewed. His eyes suddenly shut tightly and his face contorted into disgust. You leaned forward a tad, curious to see what mystery flavor he had picked. He swallowed hard and coughed at the foul taste.

“Soap.” He sputtered, reaching for the glass of water on his bedside table.

You bursted into laughter, laughing even harder at the way he brought a hand to his chest as the taste dissipated from his tongue. He grinned at you from over the rim of his glass, taking another sip.

“Your turn.” He said. 

This was a game of sorts that you and Draco liked to play whenever the two of you made a trip to Hogsmeade. Honeydukes Sweets Shop was your absolute favorite place to go and make pleasurable purchases. There were endless rows of candies and other tooth rotting snacks that were your ultimate guilty pleasure. 

You were always sure to snag a new box of Bertie Botts Flavour Beans. You and Draco would sit in his private, prefect room and take turns selecting a bean and seeing which flavor you were bestowed with. You were snug in one of his Quidditch jumpers, your legs wrapped around his waist while the two of you sat on his bed. 

Draco was always less fortunate than you during this game.

You took a bean into your hand, taking a breath when you put it in your mouth. Your tense shoulders relaxed when you started chewing. A delicious, fruity taste flooded your tastebuds, a cheeky grin appearing on your face. Draco threw his head back in exasperation at the sight of you getting yet another good flavor.

“Again?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Cherry.” You smiled, swallowing the small candy.

Draco’s blonde eyebrows raised, a devious look crossing over his face. His hands rested on your thighs that were secured around him, leaning forward.

“Mmm. Do you mind sharing?” He smirked.

You hummed affirmatively, capturing his lips in a hot kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting your familiarity and the traces of cherry candy. His hands went to the side of your neck to bring you closer, while you gripped at the collar of his sweater. His kisses muffled your girly giggles, a chuckle vibrating out from his own chest. 

You tapped his shoulder to pause your make out session, a mumble of realization sounding out from your throat. He whined when you stopped kissing him, but based on the bright look on your face, you had something in mind. 

“I have something for you.” You announced in a playful way.

His gray eyes darkened a touch, his fingertips drumming on the skin of your leg. 

“Is that so?” He questioned, making guesses already in his head.

You were giddy with joy as you scrambled from his array of blankets and his comforter. You reached into your backpack, pulling out a solid black book with a red bow on it. It was a rather large book, about the size of his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. Draco felt a quick surge of panic. He was the worst about remembering holidays and birthdays, and he instantly thought that maybe he had forgotten something special.

“Don’t get mad if I have, but...did I miss something?” He asked.

You let out a snicker as you rejoined him on the bed. Ever since he had forgotten your birthday a few months ago, now he was always afraid he was going to miss something else. 

“You haven’t. This is just something I’ve been working on.” You bubbled up gleefully.

You set the book on his lap, watching as his eyes raked over the cover. He felt a warmth in his chest at being given a gift just because you cared. He pushed the bow off of the sides of the book, opening the cover to see a little note you had written for him, signed at the end with your name and everything. The thick pages indicated to him that it was a picture album. 

He turned to the first page, an unmistakable smile of jubilation appeared on his face. The first two pages each had four Polaroid like pictures secured evenly. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different outfits and in different locations. Draco’s heart was beating with exuberance in his chest as he looked through the first couple of pages. 

“Oh, darling. These are great,” He praised; “They’re positively stunning. They-” 

His sentence was cut short when he got about halfway through the pages, his voice getting caught in his throat when the pictures immediately took on a new theme. His smile faded into a shocked, slight jaw drop. The second half of the book was filled with sultry, boudoir style photos. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing your school robes, but the only thing you were wearing underneath was one of Draco’s Slytherin uniform ties settled between your breasts. 

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, black colored set that almost made him faint right then and there. 

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and even a bit embarrassed that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling.

You fiddled with your hands in your lap, uncertainty in your tone as you spoke up to break the silence.

“I...do you like them?” You wondered, hoping to get a positive reaction.

Draco’s eyes never left the book. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on his bed and giving a look so seductive that it made Draco’s belly flutter. The sight of you naked on his bed...it was hot.

“Oh, baby. Darling, my love...” He breathed out, trying to complete at least one full thought; “Like them? I love them.” He almost growled.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of excitement as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, a hot blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“You’re so stunning...so sexy.” He purred.

You laughed shyly, a bashful smile washing on your face. You rubbed his knee, your hand feeling like electricity on him. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming more dirty than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

“Who took these?” He pondered, wondering which one of your lucky girl friends had the pleasure of seeing you actually model these outfits and strip down naked.

You just had to take advantage of this moment. You couldn’t help but mess with him just a little bit. You choked down the chuckle that would surely give you away.

“Potter.” You lied.

Draco’s head snapped up so fast and his eyes filled with an indescribable look of hot jealousy. He chest tightened, but relaxed when he realized you were kidding based off of your burst of laughter. He sighed harshly and rubbed his forehead as you laughed at his intense reaction. The thought of you asking Harry Potter to take these photos for you filled him with such a rage, but he even laughed it off when he knew you were joking.

“That’s not funny.” He said pointing a finger at you, and continuing to go through the photos.

Your giggles died off, and you answered him honestly.

“Pansy took them. That’s how I was able to sneak in here when you weren’t here.” You explained.

Draco nodded, his jaw still slightly ajar as he loomed over them. You patiently waited as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. You knew one thing for sure.

He was going to rock your world tonight.

Over the last year or so of dating you, he tried not to be so aggressive when it came to your sex life. He tried not to pounce on you every time he felt turned on. He knew that sex was supposed to be the ultimate romantic connection, and not always supposed to be rushed. After those pictures though, he wanted you BAD. You could tell he was antsy, waiting (and also praying) for you to give him the okay. 

You leaned in, your lips just barely brushing over his, before you brought your lips to his ear. You purposely let out a wanton moan in his ear, a tantalizing sound to your voice.

“Touch me, Draco. I know you want me.” 

In a millisecond, Draco was on you. He kissed you roughly and pushed you down onto his mattress. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you. 

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those hot little outfits under this jumper?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. You rolled your hips into his, trying to create some friction. You threw him a wink, your response sending him into full fuck mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

[danielxricciardo]

Hi love the writing! Could you do something angsty around 26 or 35 with max??

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

26. “Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?”

35. “What will you do if we break up?”

'Max is looking at you' you read what your best friend Anthony, an engineer at Red Bull Racing, wrote.

And you worked at Red Bull Racing too, you decided with Max Verstappen, your boyfriend, that this is the best way for you to travel with him. You didn't have a complicated job. You dealt with filtering the negative ad on the team and then you gave it to Victoria to deal with the articles as she knew.

'Okay, let him look,' you write on the piece of paper that Anthony wrote quickly on.

You were at a meeting with all the Red Bull Racing employees, to your bad luck. Being in the same room with Max Verstappen was the last thing you wanted at the time.

Sure, your relationship was beautiful, or it had been anyway. He was whatever you wished from a man and more. He looked like a bad boy but he was the cutest and most thoughtful man you knew and he made you feel safe even when you couldn't see him.

His words still resonate in your mind and you had to make a supernatural effort not to cry.

You knew Max Verstappen loved you. He told you that every day and showed you through the gestures he made. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you didn't look for scandal either.

But every time you saw her, a lump appeared in your stomach. Without wanting to, you became careful around you, looking for her or Max. When you saw them talking, you looked for any excuse to go near them.

But your fear was unfounded, wasn't it? Max loved you, you were together for two years and you were fine.

But you also looked at her. She had also had a long-term relationship with Daniil Kvyat, a relationship of almost three years and they have a little girl together. There can be nothing between them.

Anthony has told you several times that Max and Kelly have been spending a lot of time together, at least lately, and you said you weren't worried. Why would you be?

But last night all your worries and fears came upon you at once. Anthony told you he saw Max leave the paddock with Kelly and didn't come back for about three hours. He didn't want to pay attention to this thing but when Anthony went to the driver to show him some sketches he noticed a small bruise on the backside of his neck.

"Really?" he tells you laughing. "How old are you to leave hickeys on your skin? Only teenagers still do that."

You felt all the color drained from your face. Hickey? You never left anything like that on his skin.

Anthony probably realized that what he said was not about you.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry..."

"It's ok," you say and smile at him even though you wanted to die at that moment. "I need a little bath, I'll be right back," you say and get up from the chair.

You started crying in the bathroom. You were disappointed, scared, disgusted, and shocked. To learn that someone you trusted unconditionally had been lying, cheating, and had developed an emotional bond with another woman behind your back was not registering in your brain.

Yes, you weren't a model, you didn't look like one, but Max always told you that you were perfect and that no other woman compares to you.

You literally could not wrap your head around what was happening...

You hoped that your darkest thoughts would never come true, but they did. Max and Kelly. Together. Behind your back.

It feels like every nerve in your body has either frozen or left your vessel completely. Your body literally enters a state of shock; adrenaline. You are absolutely stripped. Vulnerability. Disbelief. Disgust. Horror. Anger. Confusion. Shattering, crippling, traumatizing heartbreak.

Trust, honesty, and respect are necessary for a relationship, and Max just shattered all three at once. You have been the victim of an emotional crime. You ask yourself, how could this person fuck me over like this?

I trusted them.

I loved them.

I was loyal to them.

I kept my end of the fucking bargain.

How could you emotionally manipulate me?

What was I lacking?

Am I the problem?

Truly sickening, reality-twisting, mind-fucking stuff. You just couldn't believe that this was happening to you. Infidelity is something you hear about quite often, in books, movies, the media, or to other people, but not to you. This was somebody you loved with all of your heart, who told you he loved you, who had never shown the slightest inclination of dishonesty or moral transgression or disloyalty.

"Y/N, are you okay?" you heard Anthony behind the door, the fear and worry present in his voice.

"I'm fine," you say, though no one would have believed you. "I'll be there in a moment."

You splashed some water on your face, looked in the mirror, and bit your lip. You looked like hell. The eyes were red, the small veins that irrigated the eyeballs were broken, the face was red, in a combination between the violent crying crisis and the anger you had.

What were you going to do? Will you pretend you didn't know anything? Will you tell him you knew? Were you going to break up with him or were you going to wait for him to break up with you to be with Kelly?

You finally came out of the bathroom and Anthony was waiting for you at the door. He hugged you tight and assured you that everything would be fine. But he had no way of knowing that. It was nothing more than his simple hope that his best friend would not lose her fucking mind.

The phone starts ringing. Anthony lets you go and he goes to see who's calling you. He gives you a worried look. You immediately realized that it was Max who was calling you. Tears began to flow down your cheeks again and Anthony took your reaction as an invitation for him to answer the phone.

"Hey, man," he replies, and you don't hear what Max is saying. "No, she went for a coffee and left her phone on the table. Okay, I'll tell her. Okay, bye."

You approach him after he's finished the call to make sure you don't hear Max's voice.

"He said to go to his room."

"I don't want to see him."

"I realized that. Let's go, we'll deal with this problem later."

You went for a walk. The fresh air calmed you down a bit, but you had all kinds of thoughts in your mind.

How many times has this happened? Did you really want to know that? You really wanted to know how many times he kissed her and then he would come to you and tell you that he loves you.

If Anthony hadn't seen the hickey, how many more times did he planned to cheat on you?

Did he love her? That would have hurt you the most, knowing that you failed to give Max the love he needed and had to look for it in the arms and bed of another woman.

"Just know that I understand your feelings. I've been through this myself." Anthony breaks the silence and you look at him. "To be cheated on, it's a feeling of helplessness and zero self-worth. You feel as if you didn't do enough for that person which is why they reached out for someone else sexually or romantically. You blame it on yourself half the time. You dig for answers in your memories to try to figure out where you went wrong, where things started to go in a different direction. You hope that it won't happen again. You hope that the saying "once a cheater, always a cheater" it's just a myth. They broke your trust, how could you ever trust them again, right? You become paranoid when they go out at night or they don't answer your phone calls by the first ring. You find yourself having more down and depressed days than happy days. And a lot of questions will always replay in the back of your mind. Why? Why now? Why with them? How could this be happening to you? No matter how many times you get an answer, it won't be enough. Day after day, it'll get better but worse at the same time."

After two hours you returned to the paddock. You were immediately notified that Max was looking for you everywhere and he was worried he couldn't find you. Ironic, isn't it?

"Y/N!" you hear Max's voice.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Anthony asks, standing in front of you to block your image of Max.

"No, it's okay. I'll handle it somehow..."

Anthony nods and leaves, staring angrily at Max.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere. Are you okay? Your eyes are a little red." he asks and if you didn't know better you'd think he cared.

"Let's go somewhere private."

You went to his room. You sat on his bed and thought about what you could say. You were thinking about what Anthony told you when you walked together.

Max hands you a dose of Red Bull and you take it, feeling your throat very dry.

"We need to talk," you tell him and you feel your eyes start to sting. It was not yet time to start crying.

"Okay? Is something wrong?"

"Is it true what Anthony told me?" you ask and you see that Max doesn't know what you mean; how would he know? "Is it true that you and Kelly spent some time together?"

His face went blank for a moment as he tried to understand.

"What you mean?"

You reach out your trembling hand to the collar of his polo shirt to lower it where Anthony told you it was the mark.

And Anthony was right. There was, in front of you, the hickey Kelly made on him.

Max didn't expect that. He looks at you with wide eyes and you hear his heart start beating harder. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He looked away from you, numb. You discovered his secret. You didn't know if he was afraid of your reaction or sorry you found out his little secret.

"I didn't intend to hurt you," he says, and you realize he's telling the truth.

He had a guttural voice.

You smile at them. A broken smile that hid the primordial desire to cry and hit him with all your best.

"I don't care about your intentions. They're irrelevant. You didn't intend to hurt me? Well, you didn't intentionally try to keep me from harm either."

You don't know where you had the strength to look into his eyes and not cry. Max looks crushed. Because you found out? Because you're breaking up? Because he has to put an end to the affair with Kelly?

"How long was it actually going on before I found out?"

You see Max trying to think of an answer that doesn't affect you so much or destroy you at all.

"For less than a month," he answers.

One month? Where were you a month ago? In Spain. Did something happen there? Did you notice anything strange about him? To his behavior? No. You didn't notice anything.

Was he really that good at hiding his mistakes?

That, of course, if he considers the relationship with Kelly a mistake.

"Did you ever think of me when you were with her?"

He did not answer. You didn't even know if you wanted to know the answer to that. What would it be like to answer that he never thought of you and that his mind was soaked in serotonin that only Kelly could think of those moments?

"I never stopped loving you."

"I don't believe you loved me while you were cheating on me. Love and betrayal are incompatible. I don't feel safe with that kind of 'love.'"

"So? You're breaking up with me?" Max asks.

Although you still had so much to say, you no longer had the power. You were so mentally and physically exhausted that you just wanted to be alone and cry.

"There's nothing else to do, is there?" you say and leave his room.

Anthony was waiting for you. He noticed that you had no tears on your face and frowned.

"What happened? Did you guys make up?"

You hug Anthony hard and cry. At that moment you gave up being strong. You gave up pretending, even in front of you, that you were fine.

Fuck it, you weren't fine. You were far from fine.

You looked back at Christian Horner, who was presenting something on the video projector. You lost the whole meeting with the crew. You had no idea what was being said.

Honestly, you don't even care what they said. You only worked there because you were Max Verstappen's girlfriend. But for eighteen hours, this was no longer true. So what's stopping you from going to Christian and telling him you're resigning? What keeps you from going home and forgetting about Max, forgetting the last two years of your life and starting over?

"That's it for today, thank you very much, friends, and let's get back to work, yeah?"

Everyone gets up from their seats. Anthony draws your attention and beckons you to look at the garage door.

You could faint then and there. No one and nothing ever prepared you for the emotions you were experiencing then. Kelly Piquet was at the garage door, waiting for the meeting to end. She was staring at Max, but he was just looking at you.

"Can we talk a little?"

You nod to Anthony that you're fine and he can leave. You look at Max and you see that he doesn't look very good. He had dark circles and you're sure he didn't sleep last night either, just like you.

“Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?” he asks, looking down at his shoes.

"Yes," you answer categorically, looking at his face, waiting for him to raise his head so you can look him in the eye.

“What will you do if we break up? You will leave here or-” you interrupt him.

"Not 'if I break up with you,' we've already gotten over it," you say and Max looks at you with wide eyes. "We already broke up last night. I'm still here because I haven't had a chance to talk to Christian yet to tell him I'm resigning."

"Are you leaving?"

"I have nothing to do here. I came to Red Bull Racing for you."

A tear runs down Max's cheek.

"What can I tell you to stay?"

"There's nothing left to say. Now go," you say and you feel a lump in your throat. "She's waiting for you."

Max turns to the garage door to see who you're talking about.

"I gave her a text message last night and told her it was all a mistake between us."

You smile at him. "Goodbye, Max," you say then you shout for Christian.