#DESPITE the fact that buck was already front and centre in the rest of the season and had multiple things going on

[captain-hen]

.

[starshipsofstarlord]

2k followers blurb. Can I request a Theo Raeken x fem reader smut. They're dating and he takes her on a date and it ends in smut??

Old Town Road

theo raeken x reader / masterlist / 2k masterlist

summary; based on the request /warnings; fluff, smut, public sex, oral sex (male receiving)

“Full moon tonight.” As you spoke, you bit your lip, revelling your head back into the car seat head rest, as you felt it’s pull on your body. Theo’s amorous contact with your skin was not helping with controlling yourself, you had to squeeze your hands expressively into fists to blatantly refuse the prospect of your claws emerging from where your nails were rooted.

“It seems to be taking quite the toll on you, are you sure you don’t want me to turn around now and take us back home?”

“You only say that because you don’t want to go on a double date with Ethan and Jackson!” You retorted, lifting your thigh as to attempt and rid your skin from his touch, but his hand only travelled higher up, and beneath the end of your skirt.

Theo had quite the composition within your relationship, he had practically been accepted into the pack, however, it did not mean that he enjoyed doing mundane things with the other members. He happened to get along with Jackson and Ethan quite well, but despite that, it did not mean he wanted to spend additional time with them, such as a double date.

Date night had always been reserved between you and him, it was a private sector of his life that he did not want to exploit to any one else’s eyes. During it, he reckoned in similarities with a docile puppy, always seeking approval from you, it wasn’t particularly a sight that he wanted other people to witness.

He knew the fact well; he was whipped. Malia had sneered remarks at him when he had been resurrected from the depths of hell, concerning how his eyes pled with you for forgiveness, and after a while, he had managed to succeed in earning your forgiveness, after time of making amends with your friends that he had done wrong, and helping wherever aid in wolffish muscle had been needed.

“Well...” you knew well enough what that meant, as per usual when your boyfriend was concerned, you were right. An eye roll exhibited from you, as you scoffed all to knowingly, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot, sliding his hand from your thigh, slowly turning to him with a look of empowerment.

“That’s not good enough Raeken; I’ll tell you what, if you can get through this one date, we don’t have to have an encore, and I’ll let you pick desert.” It was a fair exchange, being inclusive of euphemisms and options that were certain to intrigue the chimera.

“I don’t even like deser- oh.” He promptly nodded, licking his lips as he imagined you sprawled beneath him, profusely apologising for dragging him out on a double date, before he gagged you with his cock, sliding the length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat.

“I’m assuming we have a deal, since you’re still heading in the direction of the diner and it is now about five minutes away.” A smug expression formed upon your face, and slyly, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Theo smirked. He would wipe that cockiness off of you, replacing it with an apparition of sinful submission.

The truck pulled up, Theo parked the vehicle in a secluded spot, beside to a Porsche, that was far too recognisable, it was practically a statement piece when it came to the werewolf kanima mix. Exiting the midnight blue pickup, the two of you walked, you in front, as a particular antsy, get moody man trailed after you.

The diner was no unmet environment to the pair of you, in fact, for a first date when he had first arrived into your life during senior year, you had told him about this place, and thus, the pair of you had ventured there, to Stiles’ dismay.

Ethan stood, waving the two of you over to the table that they had opted to save, the pair of you slid in the booth across from them. The two males could practically smell the reluctance that was rolling off from Theo’s pores, it was pungent, gravitating a tension to fill the room.

To draw attention away from it, you plucked a menu into your hands, scanning the list of available options. Your tongue swiped over your top lip as you speculated what you were keen to digest, and then your eyes landed on the most appealing substance they had to offer. As you stared up at the boys, you noticed they were on their phones.

Boys. And they called themselves men, yeah, they still all acted like they were still in high school, and you could vouch for your behaviour back then. “So what are you guys ordering?”

“Get in the car.” Your boyfriend growled, having suffered through an hour of the pack members’ company, watching as you laughed with your old friends, and denied him of the one thing that you were aware he wanted all too well. He had been patient, but he could no longer wait, he needed you, and that was sufficed enough.

Ethan and Jackson had already driven away, leaving the car park half empty. “Technically, to put it in correct terms, it’s a truck.” You corrected him, earning an earnest growl out of your partner, whom caught your hand before you could reach for the door handle.

“The back.” He lowly spoke, watching with eager eyes as you pulled the door he had hinted at open, climbing into the backseat, him following closely behind, shutting the side of the vehicle, as he quickly began unbuckling his trousers. In turn, you tossed your shirt over your head, licking your lips as you moved closer.

“Poor Theodore, having to wait for what he wants. Not fair, is it?” Mocking him, you pouted at him, though you quickly stopped as he reached his left hand behind your head, grasping a handful of your hair in his fist, the action coercing your eyes into flashing its animalistic ambience.

“Put your mouth to better use baby girl, otherwise we’ll sit here in this parking lot all night.” It was a foreseen threat, he was far too aware of coursework for your online college that you had to finish, and you had no time to waste sitting around in the back of a truck.

You steadily blinked as you considered your options, lulling in the idea that if you did this one deed for him, you’d be off the leash for an hour to get as much work done as possible, that would be until he dragged you to bed, ravaging your body until you couldn’t comprehend sentences to type in due constables for your course.

He finished undoing his pants, reaching his hand into the depths of his boxers, and extracting his length, and you could feel yourself give in, as your mouth watered. You hummed as he dipped your head down with his grip, moving you closer to his growing cock.

Opening your mouth, you allowed him to enter, pushing down along his length, hollowing your cheeks, as he moved you down, moaning around the taste of his intimate skin. “Come on, put more effort into it.” He growled, and you could feel his claws itching the back of your scalp, egging you on further.

Theo thrust his head back against the seat, as you bobbed your head, wriggling your hand beneath your chest that was flush against the seat, to cup his balls, stroking them softly to aid to succumb him to pleasure. Your tongue swirled around his tip as your head came back up, pleasuring him serving as a great distraction to the work and pack business that bothered your life.

“Shit.” The chimera swore, bucking his tough hips up to descend his cock further into your mouth. “Gonna cum baby girl, open your mouth.” He pulled you off, just above his tip as he stroked his hardness, his cum shooting up into your mouth, and you shut your mouth to catch as much as you could, the rest landing on your chin.

Some spilt back down his cock, as you ducked your head once more, using your tongue to mop up his mess. You licked his spilt cum, swallowing it as it raced toward your tonsils. “I love you T.” You leant up, kissing him, and he huffed as he tasted himself upon your lips.

“Love you too darling, how about we go home?” He asked, pressing another kiss on your lips, as he lazily grabbed his cock, and tucked himself back into his clothes. “I can show you what I really want to do to you.”

“I don’t mind the sound of that.” You admitted, stroking his jawline, before you crawled over the centre console, and climbed into the passenger seat.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Brace, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1272 Pairing: Male-Coded Android x GN Reader

A dark sci-fi fantasy romance. Huge trigger warnings for genocide, child death, attempted murder, injury, blood, heavy religious themes.

xxx

It’s another grey day in Spire City, and rain comes down in streams against your prison window. As you watch, neon lights flicker and steam in the downpour, advertising dentists and bars and career opportunities in Jackson Thomas’s Silver Spire. You can see the Spire in the distance, lit up like a beacon in the haze of watery white noise. You’re sure that you could navigate the labyrinthine streets of the city using it as one would a compass needle, if only you were given half a chance.

You are one of the Fallen: a branded human who developed an unstable genome that gave you supernatural powers, thus deviating from the humans who pass on to sit at the foot of the Beholder’s throne. In the beginning, before the phenomena became widespread, your kind was whispered about behind closed doors, nothing more than an insubstantial spectre in the dark. Then, when more and more children were born with strange powers, the world flew into a panic.

Temples were overwhelmed by desperate parents or those pregnant begging them to cleanse or help spare their children. It wasn’t long before the Temple of the Beholden officially declared such children aberrations against the laws of nature and forbade them from stepping foot in a temple. Some children were abandoned in the dark, some disappeared; most were killed in religious fervour, buried in unmarked graves or washed up on riverbanks.

The Temple of the Beholden called it the Great Ousting—a fancy name for genocide.

Faced with the blood staining the eyes of their Most Holy, a silent exodus ensued from the Temple of the Beholden, its Templars renouncing the white and gold of their former regalia in favour of founding a new faith for the people: the Order of the Fallen. Shrines for the Fallen were erected seemingly overnight—a direct challenge to the Beholden, and one they did not take lightly. All members of the Order were promptly excommunicated from the Templar faith, and though years of unrest have followed, a holy war had yet to break out. 

You remember running your fingers along the robes of the Order in your mother’s wardrobe, admiring the swift but subtle gradient from coal black to blood red. You had grown up kneeling beside her in front of the altar, letting her hand guide yours as you lit the incense and red candles in front of the effigy of the Beholder. You remember praying for the Fallen to find redemption at the feet of the Beholder; to not be barred from re-entering the stream of souls that trickle down into new bodies; to find love and safety in those around them.

And then you Fell.

A knock on the door stirs you from your muddled thoughts, bringing you out of the trance you allow yourself to fall into in order to pass the time within these four walls. When you turn your head to look, the door is already closing, having allowed in a tall, lanky man with bags of groceries stacked impossibly high in his arms. You watch him walk across your tiny cell and begin to sort the goods into the cupboards and fridge, and that’s when you notice that he isn’t human at all. He has the same smooth, sculpted head that most generic androids do beneath his hood, rather like a supercycle helmet that just melts into the lines of his neck and shoulders.

Despite it all, you find yourself feeling curious; just what game is your mother playing now? The android wears the gloves and robes of the Order, stocking the pantry and fridge with things in soft packaging. You weren’t allowed to have tins or other hard packaging after the incident with the beans and the caretaker who tried to take advantage of your solitude. In fact, most metal was kept away from you, within reason, due to your specific ability to manipulate it. This meant that the building that you were in was built entirely out of plastisteel and ceramicrete, from the supports to the rivets and even the bathroom fixtures. Not even nanotech or biometals were safe.

Why, then, had your mother sent you an android?

The light in the camera in the centre of the room flickers and dies. The android calmly sets aside the rest of the packages and turns to face you, crossing the room in a few even strides and snatching you up from the window seat like a damsel in the old reels you used to watch with your mother. Shock and outrage war for dominance for an instant as your instincts buck, senses seeking metal to rend and destroy, push away from your bubble and—the wall beside you explodes.

The blast is so loud after days, weeks, months of silence that you’re briefly light-headed and lost to a powerful bout of tinnitus, almost entirely missing the transition your body takes from warm and dry to cold and wet. Your bare feet touch the roof of the neighbouring building and you blink through the lashing rain to see rioters at the base of your prison on the other side of the street, a multitude of fingers pointing from your broken window to the building you now stand upon. In an instant you’re airborne again, narrowly avoiding yet another explosive projectile from the crowd, and then you find yourself in the arms of the android as he scales from roof to roof away from your would-be murderers.

You must be dreaming, you think, except that dreams don’t bleed and you’re definitely bleeding, cut by shrapnel and shivering with shock and cold. You know nothing of where you are or where you’re going, entirely at the mercy of the android carrying you through the city.

When at last you arrive at your destination, you’re sure your lips must be turning blue from hypothermia, but you aren’t allowed to stop. The android leads you into a little hovel in a building in the slums, half-collapsing and with petra moths fluttering against bald light fixtures. Here, he gives you clothing to change into and a warm can of coffee, which you sip as he tends to your wounds.

“Who are you?” you finally ask when the chattering of your teeth has calmed, looking up at what passes for the android’s face. “Who sent you?”

“My name is Brace,” the android simply replies, shrugging off the robes of the Order and revealing streetwear as nondescript as the clothing you now wear. “I’m with the Resistance.”

“What Resistance?” you ask, bewildered and out of sorts. “What does a resistance movement want with me?”

“Not you specifically,” says Brace, sliding a gun into a slit in his trousers that leads to a gap in his leg. “Fallen in general. Think of us as a liberation movement. We want your freedom. It’s my job to smuggle you off of this continent.”

“The whole damn continent? I’m conspicuous,” you say, gesturing to the tattoo on your face.

“Minor surgery will remove the brand. Whatever other objections you may have, I suggest you remember what I just delivered you from.” Brace conceals more weapons among his person as you watch, from thin knives to long, terrible needles. This seems to be his storehouse, filled to the brim with all matter of weapons and explosives. “We leave tonight. I suggest you get whatever rest that you can.”

You have more questions burning on your tongue, but you swallow them for now. If this is to be your new normal for however much longer you’re alive, you want to be as prepared as possible for whatever may come.

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 8

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

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

Word Count: 2415

Warnings: Language, Fluff

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

So there’ll be a slight change in the Uploading plans, originally I wanted to update daily, but with my college and work it might not be possible on some days, but there will be new ones the following day, As always enjoy ! :) 

Reader POV

Well this isn’t how I thought today was gonna go at all, I hadn’t planned on running and hiding from a pair of idiots with a younger girl all because someone might have said one of the boys laughs like a possessed school girl. Disapproving glances were sent our way by the nurses, not like I’d let somethin’ like that stop the fun, the sound of Becca’s laughing and the boys yelling after us only made me run faster.

“Y/N! GET BACK HERE AND APOLOGISE! MY LAUGH IS AS MANLY AS A LOIN WEARING A LEATHER JACKET AND YA KNOW IT!” Okay what kind of example is that?! “Never Barnes! There’s nothin’ wrong with sounding like a chipmunk on laughing gas! Some girls find it adorable when boys wheeze like an old man!” I felt Becca’s hand slip outta mine, glancing behind me to see her rolling on the floor laughing, Steve was in the exact same state a couple of feet behind her as Bucky looked at both in disbelief.

I couldn’t help myself, a few giggles escaped my mouth at the sight of Bucky’s face, which in turn signed my death sentence when he turned around a glared at me, his eyes narrowing as he started taking a couple of steps towards me. Okay now is not the time to laugh at the poor lad, MOVE YA ASS Y/N! THE BOY IS PISSED I REPEAT THE BOY IS PISSED! I think my natural instincts kicked in, one minute I was frozen on the spot and the next I was half way up the hallway runnin’ for my bloody life. Our footsteps thundered up the corridor, a small scream left my throat when I turned around and realised how close the bugger was, my heart was pumping from both the exercise and excitement as a small laugh left my body.

Out of habit my eyes started searching for the nearest exit, a mischievous smirk spreading across my face as an idea popped into my head, at the last second o turned and dove behind some chairs, leaving the idiot to full on crash into the wall in front of me. Bucky’s eyes widened as soon as he realised what I’d done, thankfully he managed to cover his face before hitting the wall and crashing to the ground. Groans filled the air as I fell to my ass, not being able to support myself from all the laughing going on.

“Okay…as far as I’m concerned no-one saw that, oh Jesus Christ my head is poundin, y/n give me a hand please?” now I felt a tiny bit guilty as I looked down on the poor lad, a slight bruise was formin’ on his forehead. “Yeah sure Buck, no-one except from the staff and people saw you completely each shit, come here ya big lug” his hand grasped mine in a firm grip as I hauled his ass of the floor, once he was completely up right I brushed the hair outta the way of the bruise.  Completely missing the shiver from him when my fingers made contact with his skin, gently I pressed my fingers on his forehead and tried to find the area that might have been hurting him the most. I must have found it, cause Buck let out a small hiss of pain, I quietly apologised giving the bruise one more check before pulling away, his intense gaze fell on my face and I quickly looked away attempting to hide my blush. Dude seriously? Why am I acting like an actual girl?! OH GOD I MUST BE DYING!

“Aren’t ya gonna kiss it better for me Doll?”. This cocky motherf**ker. I turned towards Satan himself with narrowed eyes, and of course he was stood there with a shit-eating grin plastered on him stupid face. “You’d need a miracle for that to happen Barnes” and que the swapping of expressions in 3,2, 1… I raised my eyebrows at him, a smirk on my face as I slowly walked away from him, my eyes trained on his as he began to follow me. Again. “Well if you ask me, it’s only fair considering ya lead me straight into that wall, plus my pride is still wounded from your earlier comment doll.” I rolled my eyes as I turned away from him, though I’m pretty sure he saw the small smile on my face, his arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me into his side, “Even if I wanted to Barnes, I’d need a bloody stepladder to reach your giant head” I swear down if I carry on smirking this much my mouths gonna get stuck like this and I’ll end up looking like a deranged pigeon.

Biting his lip to stop himself from laughin’, Buck started to shake his head as an amused smile spread across his face as he turned to me, somethin’ in his eyes screamed mischief as I cautiously started backing off from him. Well it was more like attempting to back away from him, but my stupid ass forgot he had his arm around me and Buck kindly reminded me by pulling me back to him, “I might be able to help in the height department doll face”. Quickly he wrapped his other arm around the other side of my waist and the next thing I knew I was flying…I’m kidding the bugger decided to pick me up! “Barnes, I swear to god if you don’t put me back on the ground in the next 5 seconds I will kill you! and quit man handling me goddamn it!” naturally the pillock laughs and moves me up higher whilst walking towards the exit.

“Not till ya give me a kiss doll, it takes a lot for a mans pride to recover and you sure did a number on mine, I think half of it’s still spattered on the wall back there” this boy is almost as impossible as me!  “What’s the chances of you not putting me down till I do ?” I think my eyebrows have reached my hairline at this point, “Hmm…Slim to nothin’ , you ain’t getting outta this doll”. For once I didn’t disagree with him, rolling my eyes at him I gently pushed the hair away from his forehead and placed a small but quick kiss on the bruise before pulling back, my gaze was met with a very unimpressed Bucky. “What? I did it didn’t I? why ya sulking Barney boy?” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop a laugh coming out, Buck’s face contorted into one of horror at the nickname and a slight shiver passed through his body, in short, he looked like he was gonna throw up. “First off never call me that again! And secondly that wasn’t a proper kiss doll, that was a peck on the head at best.” I shot him an exasperated look, only to be greeted with a triumphant smile, shaking my head I leant in again and pressed my lips to the centre of his forehead, gently cradling his head with one hand as the other rested on his cheek.

3Rd person POV

The young couple were oblivious to the audience they’d gained, the rest of Bucky’s family looked on at the scene from the hospital doors, Mr and Mrs Barnes huddled together, a warm and gentle smile on their faces as they watched. Steve hurriedly grabbed Becca into his arms and covered her eyes from the sight, the little girl protested against this but gave up after a minute to stand in her silent confusion, the older boys face held a grin so wide people would have thought he’d just won the lottery.

The illusion was slowly coming to a close, slowly the older girl pulled away from the brown-haired boy, choosing to rest her forehead against his, both had small smiles on their faces as they gazed each other in the eyes, neither of them broke eye contact as the boy slowly lowered her to the ground again.

Readers POV

Almost reluctantly, Bucky removed his arms from around my waist, I’d already started to miss the feelin’ of his touch. Approaching footsteps broke our eye contact, Mr and Mrs Barnes were heading over to the two of us with Steve and Becca behind them, Steve must of done somethin’ to annoy her cause Becca was glaring at him from the side.

“Come on then Sweetheart, think it’s about time we got back home. Boys! What have I told you about messin’ around at the side of the road?!” well that was short conversation. The feeling of a small hand grabbin’ mine distracted me from the absolute bollocking Steve and Bucky were getting, Becca’s bright eyes met mine as she smiled at me, it’s honestly impossible not to smile at this girl. “Mama said that when we get home we can make cupcakes! Are you gonna help us as well y/n? I promise it’ll be fun!” I know I’ve mentioned that she’s adorable, but dear god she is so cute! I could feel my eyes crinkle as I smiled back at her “Of course I will Sweetie! Oh, how about we ask your mama if we can make them pink?!” Her already bright eyes lit up even more, I have no idea how that was possible, “Yeah! I’ll go ask her now!” with a sweet smile Becca ran over to Mrs Barnes as she jumped up and down excitedly, telling her our plan.

-Time Skip

Everything I owned was in one small box, despite me telling both the boys and Mr Barnes that I could go and get my stuff myself, the insisted that I stay at the house while they went and fetched it with the excuse of “It’s in a really bad area y/n , it’s way too dangerous for you at this time of night”. Don’t get me wrong I was very grateful, but they seemed to forget that I’d been livin’ there for a good couple of years and knew the best way to get around the neighbourhood, they were gone for a fair few hours and came back just as we started serving up dinner.

Afterwards Mrs Barnes sent us away for half an hour, so I took that time to go and unpack whatever I had left from my old life, I mean I knew for a fact it wasn’t much but most of the things I had left were things for self-defence and I didn’t wanna risk Becca seeing them. The only way to tell where’d I’d gone was the occasional creek of the floorboards underneath my feet as I closed to door to mine and Becca’s shared room, as soon as my body hit the bed the lid off the box was torn off.

Oh right, I forgot I had half of this crap… my hand reached for the small handgun carefully packed away in some tissue, the weight felt worryingly welcome in my palm as I turned it over, examining the fine details. Hang on a sec is someone coming upstairs…nope just my imagination, not the time to get distracted y/n! focus for god sake you’ve got half of the army’s Amory on your lap! My attention turned to the remaining items, each and everyone had been “gifted” to me by the gang for good work. A medium hunting knife engraved with my initials was next outta the box, followed by a swiss army knife and my brass knuckles, at some point I’d had to use all of them back at my old place, a shiver made it’s way down my spine as the memories came rushing back to me.

“Y/n? You in here?” oh flipping hell! “Yeah just give us a minute Steve! I’ll be out soon” I don’t know why I keep expecting these boys to listen to me anymore, clearly Steve didn’t listen to a bloody word I said and walked into the room, freezing when he saw all the weapons. “Y/n where did all these come from? And why do you need them?” his tone was deadly serious, wait what the hell? Didn’t he go with the rest to get my things?! , “Erm, Steve I thought you’d already seen them, didn’t you pack up some of my stuff?”. Both of us stared at each other for a few seconds, the pair of us confused by each other, “yeah I did, but Buck’s dad packed your stuff away while we looked around, that still doesn’t answer the question of what the hell you’re doing with all this stuff” ohh that makes sense.

He raised his eyebrows at my silence, moving from one foot to another as he waited for an answer, “ I’d use em for protection back at my old place, the people around there have no concept or wrong or right so it was the perfect place for me to lie low” you’d think that would be about as obvious as a punch in the face but apparently I was wrong. Immediately Steve’s posture changed, his eyes darkened as a frown appeared on his face, his eyes were clouded like he was lost in thought, “I’m sorry y/n, I hate that you had to go through that on your own for so long, I shouldn’t be making judgments on your actions, it’s just what you had to do to live right?” his eyes met mine, a sad understanding present in them as we held each other’s gaze.

“As much as I hate to admit it, that exactly what it was like Stevie, I should of told you and Bucky what you were fetching instead of leaving you in the dark” my feet dragged me over to the blonde boy, a sad smile was shared between us as we closed in for a hug, admittedly it was a tiny bit awkward considering I was a bit taller then the lad, but it was nice enough.

“Kids come back downstairs were about to make the cakes!” the sudden shout made us spring apart, causing us to bump heads with each other, “Bloody hell Rodgers what’s your head made out of?! Friggin’ rock ?!” leave it to me to ruin a moment… despite this, Steve shot me a playful glare followed by a quick shut up as he followed me out the room, the memories of my old life being forgotten and replaced with new ones.

As always, I’m open for requests and imagines, any feedback is welcome too :) Thanks for reading!

Rose xx

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Time in our Hands (6/6)

Summary: Temporal Detective First Class Aiden Gold has been working tirelessly to keep the timeline unaltered for as long as he can remember. He’s been chasing time bandit Lacey French for almost as long, but she always seems to slip through his fingers.

Until the day when his commanding officer tells him to bring Lacey in at all costs. The world itself is under threat, and Gold will need Lacey’s expertise to make sure that history happens as it should, and to prevent a catastrophe in the future…

Written for the A Monthly Rumbelling moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: T

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [AO3]

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Time in our Hands

Six

Gold didn’t know why he had been expecting the library to look like a normal library. Well, no, that wasn’t what he had been expecting. He’d been perfectly prepared for it to look like a very strange library, since they were, after all, in a very strange place.

What he had not been expecting was for the library to be showing the same level of devastation that the rest of the tower had been reduced to. For some reason, his mind had decided that the heavy doors had protected the room beyond, and that they would be entering into an untouched and perfectly traversable space.

Naturally, this was not the case. The library was just as wrecked as the corridor beyond had been, and Gold didn’t think that Kida’s instructions for finding the scroll were going to be as useful as he’d hoped.

The library was several floors in height, well, depth; they had entered on the topmost floor and it sank down beneath them. It was a perfectly cylindrical room, a spiral staircase – now warped and mangle beyond all recognition – twisting down in the centre.

If the general devastation wasn’t enough, Gold immediately spotted another problem. Kida had said that the scroll was on the far side of the room on the third level – but was that the third level from the top or the bottom?

He looked over at Lacey, who was eyeing the damage with a similar disheartened expression to the one that he was no doubt wearing himself. He saw the moment that she steeled herself, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders.

“I’ll take the lower third level,” she said, moving away towards the staircase, and before Gold could protest, she was climbing nimbly over the structure in a way that he knew he could never have managed. Her thievery skills were coming to the fore once again, and he had to say that he was glad of them.

There was another ominous rumble and the floor shook gently beneath Gold’s feet as a shower of dust came down from the ceiling. There was no time to get caught up on watching Lacey’s gymnastics as she swung herself onto the lower third level. He began to make his way down to the upper third, picking his way through the fallen bookcases. Two racks were leaning against each other precariously, the occasional tome dropping out of the shelves to land on the tiled floor with an inordinately loud smack. Gold winced at the sound, and although aware that time was of the essence, his pace slowed to a snail’s crawl as he made his way down under the arch created by the shelving, hyperaware that it could fall and crush him at any moment.

The scrolls were housed at the far end, just as Kida had said they would be, although trying to find the correct one would be easier said than done. The cabinet that housed them, no doubt once beautiful stained glass, was now a snowstorm of coloured shards surrounding miles of unrolling papyrus. Gold dusted the worst of the glass off them, hissing with pain as the microscopic splinters drew blood. So far as he could see, none of the scrolls had the tassels that Kida had described, but then, they were all half falling out of their covers. Even in their dire circumstances, it still made a lump come to Gold’s throat to know that all of this beauty and craftsmanship would be lost forever within just a few hours.

“Gold!”

Lacey’s shout had him ignoring his previous trepidation and sprinting back down the length of the shelves, looking down over the railing.

“I’ve got it!” she yelled, leaning out over her own railing two floors below him and waving a scroll. “It’s right here, ‘Future of the Wider Cosmos’, just like Kida said. Bit battered, but still in one piece.”

Gold heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“All right. Let’s get out of here and get back to the capsule before this place falls down around our ears.”

They both made their way towards the central staircase, but as he stepped onto the wrought iron, Gold knew, with a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, that he had spoken too soon.

He felt himself falling even before the staircase gave out completely underneath him, throwing him off like a bucking horse and giving him no chance to grab any kind of foothold. He was falling through emptiness, straight down towards a very hard, very stone floor.

The sound was sickening, and even more so because it had been his bones that had made it.

The pain in his chest and legs and radiating out from the back of his skull was so intense that it consumed everything else, black spots dancing in front of his vision as the world creaked and swam around him. Suddenly, nothing else mattered except the fact that every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. He had never felt anything like it. The only overarching thought that he could even begin to comprehend was the terrible desire for it all to be over, for him to feel nothing at all instead of all this searing pain.

“Gold!”

Lacey’s voice seemed incredibly far away, as if she were calling to him from the other side of the world. Nevertheless, it managed to penetrate the thick fog of pain that had closed in on him, a sharp siren call reminding him that he was not the only one in this godforsaken plight, and no matter what, he had to make sure that she was all right. She had the scroll; she had to get back to the future and whatever was waiting for her there. She had to be all right. He couldn’t let her die here with him.

If this was where he was destined to end, then so be it, but he could not take Lacey with him. Not when there was so much more of time and history left for her to explore.

He forced himself to open his eyes, the black spots dancing in front of them ever more violently now. He could see her hanging onto the staircase, leaning out as far as she dared, peering down at him from her precarious perch. He saw her begin to climb down towards him, agile as a monkey and graceful as a ballerina.

“No! Lacey!”

There was no voice behind his words, or if there was, then he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. She was showing no signs of stopping, and the entire place might collapse at any moment. He had to try again. Gold lifted his head off the stone, gritting his teeth against the dizzy, swooping sensation and swallowing back the waves of nausea that the pain was forcing on him.

“Lacey!”

This time she heard him, and she stopped her descent.

“Lacey, get out! You have to get out!”

“I’m not leaving you behind!”

“You have to! The entire future depends on you!”

She looked at her bracelet. It would blink her out of here in a split second, if only she would just use it. She couldn’t take him with her, it would only transport one. Even if she reached him safely, she would have to get him back to the capsule in order for them both to leave, and by then, the place would most definitely have collapsed around them and the future would be lost along with them.

He didn’t hear her words, but he could see her lips move.

I’m so sorry.

She touched her bracelet and shimmered out of sight, and Gold closed his eyes, focussing on the pain. It was all right. Everything would be all right now. Lacey was out, that was all that mattered. The Bureau would be able to fix everything from there.

Above him, he felt a sudden rush of air. The ceiling must have caved in completely. Something in the back of his mind, still rational despite the pain, told him that it couldn’t have been the ceiling, because he would have heard it fall and would be buried under a pile of rubble. Perhaps he was, perhaps he was dead already and just hadn’t felt it.

Surely he wouldn’t still be in so much pain if he was dead, though.

“Gold!”

He forced his eyes open again, because that was Lacey’s voice, back again, and so much closer than before.

He couldn’t see much. Oblivion was taking over his vision, everything a greyish haze beyond.

Gold thought he could make out the shape of his capsule crash-landed in the library debris, Lacey scurrying towards him, and he knew that the pain must have made him delirious.

Then there was nothing.

X

Gold opened his eyes to a white ceiling that quickly familiarised itself as the Bureau Headquarters infirmary. It hadn’t been a dream, then. Lacey really had crashed his capsule into the Atlantean library to come and rescue him. Or maybe it had been a dream and he’d made it back to HQ some other way. A small part of his fuzzy memory could have sworn blind he’d heard Jefferson’s voice during those last few moments before he drifted off.

He took a few moments to take stock of the situation. His head was killing him, and his right ankle wasn’t doing much better, but he was alive and back in the nominal present, so it was a small price to pay.

Gold looked over to his right and a familiar face swam into view. Kida was sitting on the bed next to him, hooked up to a drip but otherwise recovered from the state she’d been in when they’d left her in the infirmary to go and close the time loop. She smiled when she saw him awake.

“Hello, Mr Gold.”

“Hello.” His voice was dry and croaky, and he wondered how long he’d been out for. Deciding that it was too much effort to try and form entire sentences, he rasped out a single word and hoped it would convey his meaning adequately.

“Lacey?”

Kida pointed across his bed and Gold turned with a complaining head to see Lacey curled up in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed, fast asleep. Tilly was tucking a blanket in around her.

“Morning, Mr G.” Tilly grinned. “You gave us quite the fright there, you know.” She finished with the blanket and pulled some dead petals off the flowers on the bedside table. “You were out for two days. She’s barely left your side. I think I might have a rival for my affections.”

Gold rolled his eyes. “You’ve got Margot.”

“I know, but there’ll always be a special place in my heart for the team’s grumpy uncle.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to have you back.”

Gold watched her leave the room and a few moments later, the doctor arrived to check on Gold’s miraculous recovery.

“It’s not often someone survives having a library collapse on top of them,” Whale observed. Gold said nothing, just looking over at Lacey as she began to stir. If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have survived. He’d told her to go and to get to safety whilst she could, and when he had seen her wink out, he had fully expected never to see her again. But she’d risked life and limb to come back for him, piloting a capsule she’d never flown before to boot.

Lacey finally managed to extricate herself from Tilly’s expert blanket wrapping as the doctor left, and she gave Gold a tired smile.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Hey yourself, Detective.”

“You drove.”

“What?”

“Capsule.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, it’s like you said. It’s just like driving a car once you know what you’re doing. The controls are pretty intuitive, and Jefferson and Tilly were giving me instructions.”

Not quite sure what to make of that, Gold just raised an eyebrow. Lacey sighed.

“When I left you, I winked five minutes into the past back to the capsule. I managed to find the radio and get through to HQ and get through to Jefferson – it took a heck of a lot of convincing to get Control to patch me through to him, let me tell you – and he walked me through flying the capsule. Tilly offered helpful comments and translated all the cop speak into layman’s terms.”

“Why?”

“You lot have a language all to yourselves; you’re completely incomprehensible half of the time. It would be like you coming to one of my meets and trying to understand bandit argot. I needed it in plain English.”

Not having enough energy or brainpower to say ‘I didn’t mean why was Tilly translating’, Gold just rolled his eyes. Lacey grinned.

“I know, I know. I’m just kidding with you, Detective. You can’t say you didn’t miss me being absolutely infuriating whilst we were working together.”

“Wanna bet?” Gold wished that he sounded more vehement and not like he would have trouble going up against a marshmallow.

The grin gradually faded from Lacey’s face and she became sober once more.

“I couldn’t leave you there. You trusted me to help you on this mission. I couldn’t leave you to die alone in a crumbling library thousands of years and miles from your own time after that. I just couldn’t.” She smiled again, but it was a weak one, and there was no conviction in her words when she spoke again. “I mean, who else is going to chase me around through time and space if you’re not there to do it? I’d get so bored and lonely.”

Gold just looked at her, knowing that she didn’t mean any of what she was saying, and knowing that, right now, there was nothing that he could do to make her admit it, nor did he want to, because that would mean admitting certain feelings of his own that he wasn’t quite ready to confront yet.

Lacey cleared her throat, looking away, and assuming a neutral, professional mask when she did look at him again.

“Mal’s got Tilly and Margot working on the scroll to stop the end of the world. Kida’s going to help them once she’s out of the infirmary.”

Gold glanced over at Kida, who nodded. He wondered what would become of her now that she was so completely displaced from her own time. She couldn’t go back; there was nowhere for her to go back to, and it would be a terrible thing indeed to send her to her own time simply for her to die. Since there were no records of what had happened to any of the Atlanteans after the fall, there was no reason why she could not stay here in the nominal present and live out the rest of her life. It would be a shock to her, certainly, uprooted from her home and family and knowing that she alone survived, without a home to return to. He hoped that she would be ok. Tilly and Mal would look after her. It would not be the first time that they had seen people pulled from their own time streams irrevocably, but it was the first time that Gold had ever been the one to orchestrate such a thing.

He looked back at Lacey and wondered what she would do now. Would she just slip away, back to the life of crime she’d always led, only to cross his path at undetermined intervals when she came onto his radar?

Would there be anything he could do or say to make her stay?

She gave him a soft smile, reaching out to take his hand.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

Gold didn’t know what he would have done if he had lost her, either.

“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”

Lacey leaned in to kiss his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Detective.”

Despite the wooziness settling into his head again, Gold knew that she meant it, and he let sleep take him again, safe in the knowledge that Lacey would still be there when he woke up.

Only time could tell where they would go from here, but despite everything, Gold found that he was quite looking forward whatever unknowns the future might hold, as long as he had Lacey by his side.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

The Centre of Attention

This is a commissioned piece for @jihyxnkim, thank you for your support!

They asked for Zen x V x CMC smut featuring their OC, Minyeong.

Mystic Messenger | Zen x CMC x V | Explicit

~~~

Deadlines sucked at the best of times, and this was certainly not one of them.

It felt as if Minyeong had been struggling over the same set of panels for several years, even if they knew for a fact it had only been a matter of days. Drawing action sequences was far more complicated than it ought to have been and they spotted new mistakes every time they set down their pen. Someone’s arm would be at an impossible angle; one particular panel would be unclear. It was just one page and it ought to have been simple, but the closer their deadline came, the messier their sketches seemed to become.

It felt as if they had been locked away in their study forever, and they leaned back in their chair with a heartfelt sigh, stretching out their arms and legs and staring at the sketch on their computer monitor. They rubbed their eyes and got up from the desk, meaning to get a glass of water from the kitchen and hopefully restore what little motivation they had had from the beginning. Maybe, just maybe, they would come back into their studio and find that their linework had been perfect all along.

Minyeong stepped out into the corridor and took a left, stretching their arms up high over their head and breaking out into a yawn despite themselves. Something somewhere smelled delicious and it didn’t take them long to figure out what. The mouthwatering scent of stir fry greeted them as they stepped into the kitchen, along with the telltale crackle of a frying pan.

Zen stood at the kitchen counter, stirring with one hand and pointing out spices with the other. Jihyun pored over the spice rack, lifting up whichever containers he was asked for.

Minyeong’s fiance had a lot of skills, but cooking wasn’t one of them. He was relegated to rice cooker duties more often than not. Zen, on the other hand, was good enough for all three of them, perhaps in part because he had spent so long cooking for himself and making the most of cheap ingredients.

They opened their mouth to announce their presence, only for their stomach to gurgle loudly and do so for them. Zen and Jihyun turned to them, each breaking out into a smile.

“How long have I been in there?” Minyeong groaned, all too aware that when they went away to work, Jihyun had still been eating breakfast. “Are you making dinner?”

Jihyun set down a jar of red pepper flakes and rushed over to greet them, wrapping his arms around their waist and resting his chin on the top of their head.

“You need to take more breaks,” he said. “When we moved in together, I rather hoped I’d see you more often.”

“Yeah,” piped up Zen, still stirring the pot, “you might get carpal tunnel.”

Minyeong glanced from one to the other: their boyfriend, who went back to work a day after breaking his leg; their fiance, who sometimes fell asleep on the floor of his own studio.

“Okay, as much as I love you both, neither one of you is qualified to complain about me overworking.”

Zen at least pretended to pout. Jihyun, by comparison, found their outburst more amusing than anything else.

“So did you manage to make any progress?” He asked, letting go of them and heading back to the stove.

“Nah,” they said, reaching into the cupboard for plates. “I just can’t get the transition right. Like I can see it in my head, but the moment I get it on paper…”

They shrugged, grabbing a stack of plates and crossing the room to set them down on the kitchen counter. By now just thinking about the fight sequence made them tired.

“Seems like you need a distraction,” said Zen, switching off the power and moving to plate up, all while Minyeong took a seat at the dining table.

“I need something,” they said, flopping down and resting their head on their arms. “At this rate I’ll never get it in on time.”

“I have just the thing,” said Zen. “Hold still.”

Minyeong raised an eyebrow and watched as he and Jihyun set the table. Zen hovered behind them, so close that when Minyeong lifted their head to look up at him, the back of their head rested against his stomach.

“Hold still,” he said again, before reaching down and stroking his fingers over their back and shoulders, working out each and every knot.

“Where did you learn that?” They asked, sighing into his touches.

“Here and there...where next?”

Jihyun took a sip of wine, admiring Minyeong’s half lidded eyes and urges for Zen to move there...right there...breaking out into moans when he hit exactly the right spot.

It was innocent enough, though as was almost always the case, it was only a matter of time before it became more.

“I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep making noises like that,” said Zen, leaving Minyeong to shoot him a wry smile.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Who says I want you to stop?”

They had a deadline, that much was clear, but right then they were only too happy to fall into escapism.

Zen laughed, so softly that it sounded like a growl. He leaned over to offer Minyeong a hand, only to lift them over his shoulder the moment they made contact. They squealed in a combination of delight and surprise, watching the kitchen disappear into the distance as Zen carried them off to the bedroom. Jihyun followed suit, closing the bedroom door behind them as Zen dropped them down onto the bed.

Minyeong gasped as their body hit the mattress, watching as Zen peeled off his shirt and Jihyun took a seat next to them on the bed. He helped them up into a sitting position, sliding a hand under their shirt and dragging it over their shoulders.

Zen got to his knees as Jihyun crushed his lips to Minyeong’s, pulling at the fastenings of their bra. He tossed it aside without much care for where it landed, running his finger tips over their exposed breasts. Minyeong gasped, having spent so long in their study of late that they had lost track of exactly how much they had missed the attention. More specifically, being the center of it.

Zen rested their legs over his shoulder and dragged at the waistband of their jeans, slipping them off and casting them over his shoulder. He spread their legs wide, so wide that Minyeong couldn’t help but blush, holding his hands firm against their hips and running his tongue over their clit.

Minyeong gasped, breaking their lips away from Jihyun’s at the sudden contact. Jihyun’s response was to plant kisses across their jawline, running his finger tips over their nipples.

They had gotten used to the subtleties in their actions; the difference between them that no outsider would know. Zen was rougher and far more impatient, while Jihyun was a people pleaser even in the bedroom, falling in line with whoever else took the lead. He grazed his teeth over Minyeong’s neck at precisely the same time Zen pushed the tip of his tongue against their clit with far more force than before.

They gasped, bucking their hips off the bed without meaning to, though never getting very far. Zen took the chance to suck them harder, burying his lips and tongue even deeper. Minyeong gripped the bedcovers, barely noticing as Jihyun eased them down onto their back. They stared up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything but the wet sounds of Zen’s tongue against their cunt.

“How is that?” He murmured, his breath hot against their folds.

Minyeong knew damn well he already knew the answer.

“Good,” they murmured, “but it could be better.”

“Oh?”

They could hear the challenge in his voice and it left butterflies in their stomach.

“The pair of you are wearing far too many clothes for my liking.”

Zen peered up from his position at the foot of the bed and across at Jihyun, who had already loosened half of his shirt buttons and currently fiddled with his belt buckle.

“I see how it is,” he said, letting go of Minyeong’s legs for the time being and getting up to remove the rest of his clothes. He unbuttoned the rest of Jihyun’s shirt, shooting them a knowing glance as he dropped it onto the nearest chair.

He rested against the bed to drag off his own pants and kicked them aside without any sort of grace, Minyeong only too aware when his bare skin brushed against their legs. Even though he had long since let go, they still left them parted, desperate for either one of them to address the growing ache inside of them.

Zen crouched down onto his knees to tug at Jihyun’s waistband, dragging both his pants and underwear to his knees and smirking as Jihyun’s hardened cock sprang free. Jihyun was incredibly good at hiding exactly how hard he actually was, which proved a never end source of amusement. He only ever started to beg and plead at the point of no return, when he was about to come all over himself and anyone else nearby.

Zen dropped his own boxers, leaving them both naked in front of Minyeong, who sucked in a single breath in anticipation of what was to come.

“Enjoy the view?” Zen purred, inhaling sharply as Jihyun reached out to give his cock a gentle tug.

“You have no idea,” said Minyeong, only to giggle as they actually approached.

Jihyun reached for their hand and guided them up onto their knees and up towards the middle of the bed. Zen laid back down behind them, shuffling up the bed and easing their thighs apart until he could comfortably fit his head between them. Minyeong gasped as he slapped their ass without a moment’s hesitation and ran his tongue over their folds, so close to where they needed him that they barely noticed the sting.

Jihyun sat up in front of them, placing a hand at the back of their neck as he kissed them, with the other roaming their body. Minyeong reached for his cock and he moaned into their open mouth, all while Zen swirled a figure eight over their clit with his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he whined. “I’m so glad we chose this over dinner.”

Minyeong and Jihyun both giggled, remembering the hot food that they had abandoned in the heat of the moment.

“That’s what microwaves are for,” said Minyeong, too far gone to even entertain the idea of pulling their clothes back on and doing anything else.

Jihyun eased them forward, sighing in pleasure as Minyeong grabbed onto his waist to steady their weight. They reached for his cock and ran their tongue from shaft to tip before wrapping their lips around the first few inches, squeezing him tightly as they moved to take even more.

He sighed in delight at every touch, stroking his fingers through their hair to urge them to continue. Minyeong tried to match their every touch to the rhythm of Zen’s tongue against their folds and moaning into every sensation. Before they knew it they were grinding their hips over his face, squirming into his touches even as they pumped at Jihyun’s cock.

The ache inside of them was too much to bear. It weighed on their every thought and action, every touch to their clit and burn of the bedcovers under their knees. Every touch sent them tighter- a spring deep inside of them that threatened to unravel at any second.

They came delightfully slowly, holding their hips in place and gripping onto Jihyun so tightly that their nails scraped against his skin. He stroked their hair, though, so taken over by the feel of their lips against his cock that the pain barely phased him.

Minyeong gasped at the flutters deep inside of them, flutters so strong and deep that they felt them all of the way from their stomach to their cunt to their ass. They let go of Jihyun and took a deep breath, letting the ripples of pleasure flow through them.

When they fell still, Zen guided them back across the bed and down towards his middle. Minyeong blushed, knowing what was about to come, Jihyun got up and rifled through the bedroom drawer, dragging out two condoms and handing one to them as he put the first on himself. Minyeong shuffled further down the bed, shooting Zen a knowing look before sliding it onto his hard cock. He gave them a non too subtle wink in response, pulling them back across the bed and holding out a hand so that they could steady their weight as they sank down onto his cock.

Even in the aftermath of coming so forcefully, he stretched them in ways that only satisfied them more. Minyeong took him in slowly, adjusting their weight and rocking forward, sinking the nail of their free hand into their breasts. It felt so good-too much and yet not enough.

They turned to Jihyun, motioning for him to come closer and finish off what they’d started.

They had tried this particular movement only once before in the past. It was daunting, to say the least. Luckily Minyeong was blessed with patient lovers, neither of whom minded putting lewd ideas on the back burner when necessary.

Minyeong rocked their body on Zen’s dick, slowly and tentatively, though never nervously. When they had gotten into a comfortable motion, they leaned forward, resting one hand on the bed and the other on Zen.

Jihyun took a step forward and reached for their hips, gently pushing his tip at their entrance until it was stretched enough that he could slide it in. All three of them moaned at the intense sensation-Jihyun’s dick pressed tightly against Zen’s in an already tight space.

“Oh my god,” moaned Minyeong, leaning back into Jihyun. “Oh my god…”

It took some getting used to; Minyeong had come so hard that they felt everything with several more layers of intensity. They felt the sting as they reached the base of both cocks; the quiver as they rubbed each one of their sensitive spots. They didn’t know what to say, nor how to describe it and so settled for letting their body do the talking, picking up a steady rhythm and growing faster as their confidence grew.

“Oh shit,” Zen groaned, “oh sh---”

He was the first to come and Minyeong felt it; a twitching deep inside of them as he reached up to grip their breast. Jihyun came only fractionally later, gripping onto their waist and holding them still as he moaned numerous, garbled praises. Their moans and the pressure inside of them was enough to leave Minyeong rocking on their knees with even more force than before, chasing the building need inside of them until they saw white.

Their cry was the loudest, echoed by both men as their walls tightened around their cocks.

In that moment, there was no deadline, no comic panel, no sketchbook. There was only them, panting in the silent room.

Well, not silent for long.

Minyeong opened their mouth to crack a joke, only to be interrupted by the increasingly insistent growling of their stomach. Then, and only then, did anyone remember how hungry they had actually been.

~~~

“Like that? No… no..like that.”

Minyeong did not go back to their computer, instead forwarding an incredibly apologetic email to their editor before curling up in bed with a plateful of microwaved stir fry, which had never tasted so good.

Jihyun and Zen stood at the foot of the bed, stretching out their arms and legs in poses of their choosing, all while Minyeong sketched at lightning speed.

“Like this?”

Zen held out an arm in a pretend punch.

“Yes, perfect,” said Minyeong. “Now Jihyun, put your hand on his chest.”

They had been only too enthusiastic to pose for references.

“Yes, just like that!”

Miyeong didn’t know how to tell them that they had become so preoccupied with their naked bodies that in the end they hadn’t drawn anything.

[kiruuuuu]

Making out like a Bandit Part 3/3

Here we go, entirely too many words of entirely too self-indulgent younger Bandit/Jäger porn. (Rating E, seriously, this is nothing but endearingly sweet sex, ~4.6k words)

.

It’s too much to handle. Knowing that Dom was interested in him even before today robs him of all coherent speech and thought, so he resorts to kisses that turn filthy fast. The whole thing is a dream come true – how did it even happen that he suddenly has this compassionate man in his arms, playing with his tongue and slowly driving him insane? Dom is showing remarkable restraint, seems happy with making out like a fiend for now, so it falls to Marius to take them a step further which he gladly does. He pulls Dom’s lower half against his own and grinds into it amidst their fervent snogging, rubbing the bulge in his boxer briefs on the one visible in Dom’s jeans and both of them gasp. The friction is delicious, too intense to give up on it, therefore he continues with it, holds on to Dom’s narrow hips and strains against them.

With a last gentle bite into Marius’ lower lip, Dom interrupts their sensual kissing spree and switches to attacking Marius’ neck, immediately homing in on that spot below his ear that weakens his knees and makes him shiver in delight. He’s now chewing on his own lip to try and hold back the noises aching to be set free, brows drawn together in concentration yet Dom is merciless. He nibbles at the nape of his neck, exactly where his hand did so much damage earlier and Marius decides he needs a distraction. He pushes the shirt off of Dom’s shoulders, lets it fall into a heap by their feet and starts exploring his chest with his hands. Hard muscles work under the smooth skin, his abs are tangible bumps and ridges under Marius’ digits and his broad back is perfect to dig his fingernails into. When Dom starts sucking a bruise onto his skin, making him squirm and stretch towards him, he retaliates by brushing his thumbs over Dom’s nipples. He doesn’t expect the instant response, isn’t prepared for Dom bucking his hips and groaning before he can help himself.

Interesting. Marius lightly pinches one between his fingers, causing Dom to produce a strangled sound that goes straight to Marius’ erection. “Don’t”, Dom whispers with urgency in his voice, “my nipples are wired directly to my cock, and if you don’t want me to come in my pants -”

“You’re remorselessly exploiting my weak spot too”, Marius objects with a grin, “try to keep quiet.” He leans down a little and catches one of the erect buds between his lips, touches his tongue to it just as Dom slaps a hand over his own mouth. His reactions are extremely satisfying, the way his muscles tense whenever Marius laps at him is an acceptable pay-off for how he suffered during the football match. While Dom whimpers into his palm, Marius begins undoing his jeans, wrestles them down his hips and over his hard thighs to run his fingertips teasingly over the perfectly outlined dick that immediately jumps at his touch. Without interrupting his ministrations even as Dom steps out of his trousers, he peeks down: it looks to be just the right size, large but not obscenely big, and his mouth waters at the prospect of being able to do what he wants with it.

He takes pity on Dom who by now is shooting him imploring looks that he can’t support with words, unwilling to use his voice for fear of being too loud, and plants a few kisses on his well-sculpted chest instead of continuing the teasing. As soon as he stops, a hand wanders to his crotch, grinds its heel against his head and has him buck into it, so he returns the favour. For a while, they simply stand there, leaning into each other and groping each other’s dicks through their underwear, feeling out the sensitive head, cupping the testicles, massaging the shaft, both of them breathing heavy and lost in the welcome stimulation. They’re taking their time and Marius appreciates it, it’s not just a blur of passion that’s over entirely too soon, it’s not something out of their control, it’s slow and deliberate. They both want this but they both want to enjoy it fully, too.

“What do you want to do?”, he murmurs and wonders what it is he’d like to do. Pretty much anything from jerking each other off to proper sex sounds enticing so he lets Dom decide.

“Can I top?” Even before he gets the chance to agree, Dom adds: “I’d love to have you inside me but I’d definitely end up being too loud.”

Marius snorts. “Really? That’s your excuse?”

“Trust me, I’m not joking. I’d be louder than a fucking cat in heat.”

Oh. His amusement gives way to an almost carnal want upon imagining it, picturing Dom writhing and moaning under him, unable to hold back, moving against him and dear God. Dom would let him do it, too, he’s convinced, would allow him to take him apart, reduce him to a mewling mess despite the fact he could do so to Marius just as well. But Dom doesn’t have anything to prove. “That’s really hot”, he tells Dom who seems pleased with this answer, “but I don’t want to keep my uncle up.”

“Thought so. Want me to finger or tongue you open? Which do you prefer?” His mind blanks for a second, making him stare at Dom in open disbelief because what. Just the thought of it is - “Have you not – has no one ever done that to you?” He shakes his head mutely but instead of reacting with outrage, Dom seems to sense his hesitation and merely nods. “Alright. Maybe next time, you’ll probably moan like a whore if it’s the first time.”

Marius’ thoughts are still attempting to catch up with everything spilling from Dom’s mouth and failing horribly. Next time, he said, the two words the only ones clearly resonating in his head. Speechless, he only watches as Dom picks up his jeans again, rummages around in his wallet until he pulls out a packet of lube and a condom, then turns to him questioningly. “We can move to the bed but this room is facing away from your uncle’s, so I suggest we stay here.”

“You’re like a wet dream come true”, he blurts out without meaning to but refuses to regret being so blunt when Dom’s devastating smile returns, wide and flattered. He sets the two crinkling objects aside and snuggles up to him once more like an oversized puppy, slotting their lips together and initiating another toe-curling make out session during which Marius voluntarily discards his t-shirt so that Dom can get a handful of his muscles as well. He might not be nearly as buff as the beefcake in front of him but he’s nothing to scoff at, either. While he’s busy sucking on Dom’s tongue, nimble fingers slip under the waistband of his underwear and pull it down, wrap around his erection as soon as it bobs free and give it a few shallow tugs that Marius answers with a content hum. His cock is leaking already, almost dripping with how much he wants this.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he breaks free from Dom’s dirty kisses to undress him as well and watch while doing so. His entire body is flawless, golden hairs covering his shapely legs, barely any scars, skin smooth and taut over his muscles, his sizeable cock darker than the rest of him and heavy in Marius’ hand, a solid weight, piping hot and silky. He’s by far the most handsome guy Marius has ever laid his hands on, not to mention he’s positively lovely on top. Impatiently, he shoos Dom’s hand away from his own dick, steps a little closer and grabs both of their shafts together, pressing them against each other which results in a wonderful sensation made even better when Dom’s twitches. They’re similar in size though Marius’ hair is darker, both uncircumcised, the foreskin already peeled back, both tips glistening. Experimentally, he rolls his hips forwards a little, sliding along Dom and making them both gasp.

“Keep doing that, but stay slow”, he whispers and reaches around Marius to fetch the lube. He complies, moves a tad, then gingerly massages their heads. It’s so much better than just doing any of this on his own, the fact alone that he can smell Dom, rest his forehead on his shoulder and examine how magnificent their lengths look together increases the lust coursing through his body manifold. He listens to every hitch in Dom’s breath, every controlled exhale, every sharp inhale as he continues to tease them both, answering them with gasps of his own. Arms move around him and a hand gropes his backside, digging into the flesh and he understands it’s a wordless question. He nods and feels a second hand, a slick finger rubbing over his entrance and it’s electrifying.

He realises with sudden clarify that they’re really doing this, that Dom is going to fuck him in his old room that was the centre of most of his childhood, that he’ll have to keep quiet during all of it. A tiny moan escapes him as soon as the finger breaches him cautiously and he starts sucking on Dom’s shoulder in an attempt to silence himself. The familiar feeling rushes through him, fills him with anticipation and makes him forget about everything around them for a while, concentrating merely on the knuckles pushing in and out of him. It’s always a little odd but he knows the pay-off is going to be staggering, so he makes a conscious effort to relax, accept the digit into himself.

When a second finger brushes over his hole, full of promise, he involuntarily thrusts forwards, is abruptly reminded of the fact that he’s got a penis as well, and hears Dom suck in air sharply through his teeth. He repeats the motion, now slower yet more deliberately, and when he lifts his head, Dom returns his mischievous gaze almost helplessly. “Please. I don’t want to – Marius!” Grinning, he grinds against Dom’s rock hard shaft once more and simultaneously flicks one of his nipples but he stops grinning almost immediately when the second finger is shoved inside him all the way, stretching him and giving him that unparalleled feeling of being full that he’s come to crave now and then. And even though it’s nothing short of fantastic, Dom instantly looks guilty. “Are you – did I hurt you?”

“Fuck no”, he replies as emphatically as possible when all they allow themselves to do is whisper, “keep going, it’s great.” As if to prove his point, he pushes back against the slippery fingers before rolling his hips into his fist again, building up a steady rhythm that’s heavenly and seems to be doing it for Dom as well, judging by his throbbing erection that strains against Marius’. He’s being worked open carefully now and thoroughly glad for Dom’s other arm holding him upright as fiery pleasure mixes with the comfortable feeling in his belly that manifested when they embraced earlier and has yet to vanish.

The third finger does him in. If he continued the languid slide of dick on dick, he wouldn’t last long and thus he takes Dom’s face in both hands and kisses him sloppily, notices his lips curving into a smile as he prepares Marius so thoroughly it’s almost ridiculous but who is he to complain – the feeling of clever fingers moving inside of him is addicting already, fuelling his need for release and making his eyelids flutter in bliss. When he breaks the kiss, both their mouths are wet with spit yet Dom doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He’s breathing hard as well now, fixing Marius with a smouldering gaze and caressing his arse with his free hand. “Ready?”

“Almost.” Blindly, he reaches behind him and grabs the condom, grins when Dom interprets this as a prompt to brush over his prostate, causing waves of warmth to course through him. He does his best to ignore them even as they’re getting stronger, rips open the wrapper with slightly shaking fingers and rolls it over Dom’s cock – he has to take a break halfway through because the pleasure is blotting out all feeling in his limbs but he counters it by threatening to attack one of Dom’s nipples again, after which the distractions cease. At least enough for him to finish his task.

“Turn around.” His voice is soft, beckoning, a stark contrast to the uncomfortable empty feeling after his fingers have withdrawn and still, Marius has never been more turned on than right now. He’s simultaneously astonished and not at all surprised to find that he trusts Dom with every fibre of his being. Obligingly, he does as he’s told, props himself up on the shelf and catches Dom’s eye in the large mirror that only now fully registers – if they’re going to do it like this, it means - “I’ll go slow. I want to enjoy this.” They’re still looking at each other while Dom lines up his dick, starts pushing in and they can pinpoint the exact moment his head slides inside on each of their faces, both slipping slightly into elation and disbelief at once. He’s large, even after three fingers, indescribably hot and pushes all the air out of Marius’ lungs with every centimetre more that enters him.

They’re becoming one and he can watch it, examine his own expression as well as Dom’s, and it’s embarrassing in a way though not shameful. He’s not ashamed of what they’re doing, just self-conscious about doing it this purposefully, about letting too much show. Dom is looking at him intently, searching for every swallowed moan, every tensing of muscles, every interrupted in- or exhale and it’s strangely arousing. Marius feels the urge to close his eyes, reduce some of the intensity of it yet decides against it; he only allows himself to look away once Dom has bottomed out, is catching his breath, puts his hands on Marius’ hips and kisses the top of his spine in a gesture so loving it makes a smile appear on Marius’ lips.

Usually, it takes him a while to get accustomed to the curious feeling of being penetrated but right now, relaxing into it is second nature somehow, easy and effortless, probably because he wants this so much his teeth hurt. He pushes against Dom in a signal for him to move which he obeys without protest, withdrawing a little and pushing back in, repeating the motion a few times before he switches to slow, long thrusts that barely deserve the name – it’s a languorous slide but after no more than thirty seconds, Marius is trembling. There’s something he didn’t know or rather forgot, he hasn’t had sex standing up a lot, often favours a bed: in this position, Dom rubs over his sweet spot every time. It’s not enough to make him come, at least not in less than half an hour, but it’s earth-shattering regardless. Especially because he needs to bite back every sound trying to claw its way out of his throat.

It doesn’t help that Dom is going so slow – if anything, it makes it worse, amplifies the blinding pleasure immensely. His knuckles are turning white where he’s desperately holding on to the edge of the wooden shelf trying not to let his legs give in, he’s clenching his jaw and sucking air in every time Dom pushes back inside. He stops, suddenly, and Marius is about to yell at him when he notices he’s on the verge of hyperventilating. That’d be a first, he’s not passed out during sex before but he’s also not had a hunk like this slowly fuck every shred of common sense out of him. Dom is doing his best to calm him down, melts against his beck, nuzzles his shoulder, strokes his chest reassuringly. “Alright?” Marius nods weakly and leans back into him, thankful for the solid, warm weight of the body behind him. “Look at me. I want to see what I do to you.”

He glances up and feels a little better when he sees Dom’s brows furrowed in concentration – it’s visibly costing him a lot of willpower to keep up this gruelling tempo. “You’re right there”, he tries to explain huskily, “don’t change anything.”

“The angle?”, Dom clarifies and Marius just nods again, unable to respond as another spark blackens his vision for a split second. “You’re so tight and so sensitive. I can feel you clenching around me. You feel amazing.” His lips latch onto the nape of Marius’ neck again, his weakspot, making him wobble unsteadily and, together with the stimulation deep inside him, it’s too much, too intense, he wants to curl in on himself but a hand on his chin keeps him upright and is that face staring back at him from the mirror really him? He looks so lost and yet so ecstatic, as if he never wants to be found again.

Too much and not enough at the same time. Because as extreme as the pleasure is, as all-encompassing, it’s too stretched out; a full-body sensation that lulls him into a state of powerless joy yet denies him all hope for release. His legs are twitching from the fluctuating feeling, he’s keenly aware of Dom’s thighs pushing against his, of the tongue behind his ear, the one hand holding on to his hip bone and the other caressing his jaw, just as sharply as he feels the hot shaft entering him over and over again, creating a tide that never stops and never rises high enough. Dom is watching him, unchanged, even as he sucks temporary markings into his skin, he drinks in all of Marius’ gasps and squirms and his eyes are so full of affection that it causes Marius’ heart to pump twice as fast.

Just when he’s started to accept his fate, when he made peace with forever floating in limbo, with never reaching his goal, fingers encircle his erection and begin stroking it – in the same torturous tempo as the deep thrusts. They glide over his head, gather the copious amounts of precum there and use them to ease the slide, clouding Marius’ mind even further, causing his eyes to roll back into his skull when they sync up with the deep-seated stimulation. He can’t imagine how disciplined Dom must be, how composed he has to be to keep this up, to stay mostly mute except for his laboured breathing and the occasional gasp – he only knows that he doesn’t share his resolve.

“Dom”, he begs ardently and is proud of being able to keep his voice low, “Dom, please. Go faster.” A simple shake of the head crushes all hope for a swift release, it’s accompanied by a smirk and a twinkle in Dom’s eyes but even then it’s obvious he’s holding himself back with effort. There are teeth on Marius’ neck now and he’s already trembling, his insides hungrily gripping Dom’s dick but even then he refuses to try and increase the speed, refrains from thrusting back because while it’s nothing but torture, it’s sweet, divine, stunning. He closes his eyes and focuses on the teasing touches, the hand stroking him, on the incredible feeling of Dom’s head rubbing right over his prostate, unfailingly every time he pushes in. Reality ceases to make sense to him and it helps, he can feel his climax approaching but as if Dom could sense it, he slows down even further, despite how his own cock is throbbing deep inside Marius – and he’s never been able to feel it this intensely, the shaft inside him pulsing with need. “I need to come”, he whines and barely stops himself from bucking into that excruciatingly light grip, “Dom, let me come.”

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” Something in Dom’s voice has changed, it’s thick now but also sounds like he made a decision, so Marius wastes no time in obeying, meets his gaze in the mirror again and that’s when the grip tightens. A low moan escapes him to which Dom reacts by holding his mouth shut, the gesture dominant yet meant helpfully: they both know Marius would regret it if he lost control now. He’s getting serious, his hand is speeding up, pulling Marius ever closer, and still he’s observing him raptly, his chin on Marius’ shoulder. There’s a twist to his wrist, his fingers tightening around the sensitive tip, digits brushing over that certain spot on the underside of the head and it’s almost – he’s almost there – he just needs -

Dom bites into his earlobe and he’s gone, shoved over the edge, tumbling down in free fall. Right as he passes the point of no return, Marius fills his lungs with air, arches his back dramatically, is only connected to Dom where his hand is on his mouth and their hips flush, and then he comes. It’s violent, the contractions in his lower body so extreme it’s almost painful, his legs are hurting and his arms about to give in and yet everything is eclipsed by the elating feeling of release; sweet relief is rushing through his veins as he grinds against Dom, seeking to maximise his pleasure while he’s being milked, mercilessly stroked through the entirety of his orgasm. He’s moaning into Dom’s hand – quietly but moaning nonetheless – helpless, shivering, clamping down on the cock impaling him that’s twitching hard, hitting all the right spots and it’s never been this fierce, he’s never felt a climax this sharp and satisfying.

Even as he’s coming down, there’s the occasional pleasurable twitch and as soon as Dom removes his hand, he greedily gulps in air and inspects the damage. He managed to shoot his sperm even halfway up the mirror, which is impressive, exhaustion is settling in his bones now and he can’t really see straight but apart from that he feels brilliant. Instead of sobering up, there’s an unfamiliar warmth inside that probably stems from the fact that Dom is wrapped around him, unchanged, and looking at him like he hung the stars. “That was absolutely beautiful”, he whispers and Marius replies with a short, embarrassed laugh.

“You’ve not come yet?” Dom shakes his head again. “Then do. I want to feel it.” They exchange a smile that’s so pure, so full of adoration and mutual affection that it refuses to leave Marius’ lips even as Dom grabs his hipbones and pulls him back onto his cock. He’s faster now, careful not to let the sound of skin on skin become too loud but thrusts deep regardless, the feeling not even uncomfortable. Marius basks in it, relishing the knowledge that he can now help with Dom’s pleasure, focus entirely on him; he meets his thrusts, adapts to his movements, contracts his muscles around him and squeezes breathless gasps out of him. He can finally give something back to Dom.

When he comes, Marius makes sure to allow him as deep as possible, endeavours to prolong his orgasm with small motions and doesn’t complain when fingernails bite into his skin. Dom looks blissful, his head thrown back and his throat exposed, his features gone slack in pleasure and his erection pulsing with every spurt. It’s everything, it’s hot and exquisite and lovely and now Marius understands what he meant because he, too, looks absolutely beautiful.

He rests his forehead on Marius’ shoulder for a bit as they’re both catching their breath, then he gingerly withdraws, extracts himself from Marius’ body, leaves him slightly cold without the comforting warmth at his back. “You ruined the mirror”, he says quietly while removing and tying off the condom.

“Wouldn’t be the first time”, Marius shrugs, making Dom snort. They busy themselves with cleaning up, him taking care of the mirror and the washbasin and the shelf (he really came everywhere, it seems), and Dom collecting and even folding their clothes, putting them on a chair in Marius’ room. “You know, we could’ve shut the door.”

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?” Chuckling, they both crawl under the sheets once they’re done, intertwine their limbs and bathe in each other’s body heat, gentle hands stroking through short hair and over soft skin, lips touching now and then, noses brushing.

A thought occurs to Marius. “We might not even have to lie to my uncle tomorrow, you know.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he wants to slap himself because none of this makes them boyfriends, neither of them have raised the topic before and he shouldn’t assume so much. He wants it, though, he realises there’s a longing in his chest to make Dom a part of his life, to keep him. There’s something there, it’s undeniable, they’re compatible and they like each other.

Dom hesitates but as it turns out for a different reason than unwillingness: “I’ve got to go back to Berlin tomorrow afternoon. I’m not – I want to. But it’d be long distance and I’m shit with that.”

That’s right, he’s only here temporarily. Marius knows this but happened to forget. “Me too”, he murmurs and it’s the sad truth. He gets lonely, especially on weekdays when there’s no one with whom to spend the evening, he understands if Dom feels the same way. Keeping him from potentially finding someone else with whom he could be happier is unnecessarily cruel. Right now though, he doesn’t have the energy to be bitter about it, and besides, Dom is still here, right beside him and naked and eye candy. “Can I wake you up at night for another round?”

He gives a startled laugh, obviously not having expected the question. “Sure. But the lube’s gone, so we’d have to settle for hand jobs.”

“Why not blow jobs?”

“I can blow you until you pass out, if you like, but I can’t come from it. Never have.”

Marius’ interest is piqued. “Not even if I play with your nipples?”

“We’d wake up your uncle. Believe me, I’d moan like a bitch but I wouldn’t finish.”

“Sounds hot.”

Dom laughs once more and pulls him on top of himself, kisses him lovingly and Marius curses everything and everyone for the fact that Cedrick is somehow stationed here but Dom isn’t. They just cuddle for a while, slowly drifting away until Marius climbs off again, turns around and shuts off the bedside lamp only to feel Dom scoot up to him and spoon him. It’s as if he can read Marius’ mind since this is his favourite position, cosy and safe and he relaxes into it. He’s half asleep when Dom mumbles: “If you give me your number, we can at least phone now and then. Have freaky phone sex. Or… or just talk.”

For some reason, the second option sounds more intimate than the first, more of a concession. He pictures it, a lazy Saturday, him in his pyjamas and Dom’s voice by his ear, memories surrounding them, the feeling of a solid body at his back. “Yeah”, he agrees with a smile so open that he’s glad Dom can’t see it. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’d like that.” There’s a kiss pressed against the back of his neck and he still feels it when he falls asleep.

[franklyshipping]

No One makes fun of my brother ~ A Markiplier Jacksepticeye and Crankgameplays Ego Fanfic

Mmk so I’m really excited to write this prompt of protective Anti lookin after the newest boi on the block who is the one and only CRANK and a certain bubblegum boi is gonna regret some of his actions😆 Dis is gonna be cute hopefully so HEERE WE GOOO!

His full name, for the most part, was Corroded Crank; Crank for short. And he was new. There had been ideas about him in the past, but it was only now that he fully existed; he liked existing, the world had so much. Places, experiences, and people. As soon as Crank had come into being he’d almost immediately been “taken in” so to speak, by this group of people who were like him. It was like a crazy family, but they made him feel safe. Some of them could be….trying though. One of those would be the vivacious Wilford Warfstache, who was currently grinning widely with his signature twinkle of mischief alight in his eyes.

‘Ya don’t have to get all mopey! It’s really quite adorable.’

Crank fiddled with the sleeves of his charcoal hoodie as he tried to muster up a relatively intimidating glare to throw at Wilford, the moustached man only grinned wider at his attempts. Crank realised that he was only teasing, but part of him did want to be taken somewhat seriously.

'No. It isn’t. There is not part of me that could be considered adorable, especially not my-!’

As he went to exclaim, his voice squeaked and crackled which cut him off. Wilford giggled as he repressed a small pout at the annoying defect, why the hell did he have to be stuck with something so annoying? Wilford stepped closer, his tongue poking out through his teeth due to his amusement.

'Your what? Your cute, crackly lil voice box?’

Crank folded his arms as light tinges of navy blue started to rise on his cheeks, making his clear embarrassment evident as Wilford continued to cackle and tease him. Meanwhile, not very far away, a certain green haired man was sauntering about in search of his new friend; aka Crank. As soon as Crank had manifested, Anti had taken it upon himself to take the newbie under his wing and they’d almost immediately formed a fast friendship.

'Awww are you embarrassed?’

Anti perked up at the sound of Wilford’s unmistakable voice, and started pacing towards where it had emanated from. He approached the entrance to the room slowly, half-hiding behind the doorframe as he peeked in, Anti smiled at the sight of Crank but frowned a little at his demeanour. Wilford had his back to him and Crank was so focused on looking at the floor that he didn’t see him, Anti narrowed his eyes at the scene.

'Sh-shut up!’

Crank was gritting his teeth as his flush darkened, and Anti gritted his teeth at the same time. He felt a bubble of annoyance rise up at the thought of Wilford teasing him, he knew it was just Wilford’s way, but it could sometimes be quite relentless. He narrowed his eyes as Wilford cackled loudly.

'That is so adorable, and nothing you can say will change that!’

Crank looked down at his shoes again before flicking his eyes up, but they weren’t fixed on the moustached man who was teasing him. They were actually fixed on the certain someone who had started to ever so slowly creep up behind Wilford, wearing a determined and signature maniacal grin. Crank’s lips twitched but he looked back to Wilford so that he didn’t give Anti away, since Wilford was still blissfully unaware. Crank cleared his throat gently.

'So…there’s nothing I can do to persuade you?’

Wilford furrowed his brows gently but still maintained a taunting grin as he placed his fists on his hips in a projection of his sassy confidence, which only made Anti smirk as he crouched…ready to pounce.

'Nothing at all.’

Crank couldn’t help his lips spreading into a wide, excited grin as Anti sent him a wink; Wilford finally started to feel a hint of worry.

'Well I’ll just have to get some help then.’

Despite them being spoken softly and carefully, Wilford’s eyes still widened fearfully at Crank’s words. His reaction was too late though, and almost immediately…his fate was sealed.

'BOO MOTHERFUCKER!’

Wilford let out a, totally manly, screech as Anti lunged towards him and knocked him so he was lying on his front on the floor whilst Anti straddled his back with smug satisfaction. Crank sported a wide grin as he observed the trapped man before turning to Anti.

'Thanks dude.’

Anti giggled and stuck his tongue out through his teeth as Crank shuffled over and sat on the carpeted floor, fiddling with his sleeves gently.

'No one taunts my cranky boy and gets away with it!’

Crank grinned and hugged his knees with a hint of bashfulness as Anti giggled again, before returning his attention to the moustached maniac below him. More specifically, Anti’s fingers and knuckles glitched with little crackling noises as they rested themselves delicately on Wilford’s sides; said man froze and gulped as Anti spoke.

'And now….for your consequences!’

Anti cackled as he let his fingers scribble against Wilford’s sides, and for a moment Crank was immensely confused; how would this be a consequence? However, he soon had an epiphany of enlightenment when bubbly laughter began to fly from Wilford’s lips and his own smile grew; he looked to Anti who was smirking heavily.

'For future reference, you should know that Wilford is impossibly and HILARIOUSLY ticklish…’

'Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhuhup!’

Crank giggled at Wilford's squeaky, indignant protest as Anti’s fingertips worked their tickly magic. Wilford’s cheeks were already matching the colour of his moustache as he squirmed and giggled helplessly.

'And you call me adorable…I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as cute as you right now Wilford.’

His words were so nonchalant, and so softly spoken. Crank’s voice may have had its 'faults’ but at this point Wilford shuddered and flushed harder at the sound of it. Anti’s eyes lit up as he sent a grin Crank’s way, and let me tell you that it was laced with immense pride.

'Y'know, I couldn’t agree more!’

Wilford let out a yelp before descending into wild cackles as Anti forced his hands beneath him so that he could scratch and claw at his sensitive belly.

'Fuhuhuhuck!!! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!!’

Wilford bucked and laughed heartily as Anti gleefully squeezed his tummy, making sure to worm under his shirt so he could torture the bare flesh. Crank only watched with a joyful and satisfied grin as Wilford slowly unravelled at Anti’s touch, Crank especially observed his face which was reddening further by the second.

'Y'know Wilford, with how you’re blushing it’s almost as if this whole thing embarrasses you-’

'FUHUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOHOU AHAHAHASSCRAHAHAHANK!!’

Both Crank and Anti guffawed at the nickname, sharing a mutual look of surprise and sarcastic admiration. Wilford let out a wild squeal as Anti decided to wiggle a finger into his navel at lightning speed, the glitching man chuckled as he spoke.

'Wow, very imaginative…you must not have learnt your lesson yet.’

Ignoring Wilford’s stammering hysterics, Anti turned to the brown haired youth with a smirk and flicked his head to the man beneath him.

'Ya wanna help?’

'NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!’

Crank grinned wider at Wilford’s protest, and despite its verbal theme it gave him the motivation he needed.

'Sure…’

He shuffled over to the two of them, Anti decided to nonchalantly massage Wilford’s hips which made him shriek and buck as Crank sat gently on Wilford’s shins facing Anti. Said man turned to him and gave his a wide smirk and a wink before going back to his own task at hand, but not before yelling bombastically.

'GO TO TOWN CRANKY BOY!’

Wilford wailed as Anti tortured him relentlessly, Crank meanwhile experimentally spidered his fingers over the backs of Wilford’s thighs; giggling happily at the results.

'NAHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE!!!’

Crank sniggered with a wide grin as he danced his fingertips over the muscles, scratching and pinching sporadically as Wilford screeched with the desperation and vigour of a true madman.

'Wow, this is a real bad spot for you huh? Tickle tickle Wilford….’

Anti had decided to let up on his torment of Wilford’s upper body so he could observe Crank’s actions with immense glee and pride.

'Wow Cranky you’re good at this!’

The brown haired man flushed gently at the compliment, for a moment disregarding Wilford’s intense hysteria due to his own bashfulness.

'AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!’

Both Anti and Crank jumped at Wilford’s sudden heightened hysteria, and they both looked down to where Crank’s fingertips had landed. Oh boy was Crank embarrassed. His navy lush had returned as he saw that his hands now rested….on Wilford’s backside. Anti however found it rather hilarious.

'Ohohoho my fuhuckihing gohohod!!! Yohohou have aha tihicklish ahass?!’

Wilford couldn’t even speak, he could only open and close his mouth as his own voice box seemed to just fail there an then. Anti’s wild cackling filled the room, his head was thrown back as tears built at the corners of his eyes; Crank’s reaction was nowhere near as intense due to his slight embarrassment, but he nevertheless found it amusing.

'Wehell this was unexpected….’

Anti cackled more at Crank’s words, Wilford flushed harder than the sun as he let out an embarrassed whine and tried to turn his head so he could look at him.

'P-plehease I’m sohorry for teasing you! I-i swear I won’t do it again!’

Crank hummed to himself a little, he was of course immensely happy at the fact that he’d gotten a genuine apology from Wilford Warfstache. The most self-centred, prideful man on this entire planet. And yet….

“W-wait what are y-NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!’

Wilford shrieked so loud that even Anti winced, but he was soon grinning heavily at the sight of Crank poking and skittering his fingertips over Wilford’s butt as he giggled childishly to himself.

'Wow look at that booty move!’

Crank let out a small cackle at Anti’s words as the pair of them observed how Wilford’s entire body seemed to shake and spasm due to the pinches and scratches that Crank’s nimble fingers unloaded.

'PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!’

Wilford was screaming. Literally. He thought his lungs were about to burst as the tears of mad hysteria streamed down his cheeks, the sensations were too much; he didn’t know why his butt had to be so sensitive, he just knew that’d he’d probably die if he wasn’t granted mercy soon. Crank meanwhile was having the time of his life.

'Wow, imagine what would happen if everyone’s else found out about this? I don’t think you’d ever hear the end of it….’

He grinned at the protesting screech that mingled with Wilford’s regular, wild outbursts of mirth. Crank’s lips twisted a little after a few moments though, he had to admit that he did feel bad about doing this to Wilford; so he let up and shuffled off his shins. Anti, though quite reluctantly, also shuffled off Wilford’s back.

'Ohohohoho my gohohohohod…..’

Wilford gasped in intense relief, his entire body was still tense as shockwaves and tingles reverberated over his torso, legs….and butt. Slowly but surely though, he began to relax, and managed to muster the energy to push himself up into a half-sitting position.

'Uhm….y-you okay Wilford?’

The moustached man blinked a few times before he looked up at the source of the wavering, and crackly, voice. He smiled gently at Crank’s slightly concerned expression.

'Of course I’m okay, I’m Wilford Warfstache!’

Anti let out a loud groan, making Wilford snicker at him as Crank relaxed with the knowledge that he, at the very least, hadn’t injured or scarred Wilford for life. Said man sent a slight glare towards Anti, who merely stuck his tongue out childishly.

'However…..’

Wilford’s tone of voice suddenly deepened as he flitted his gaze between Anti and Crank, surveying them with a slightly threatening glint in his eyes.

'It would be a good idea, for both of you, to not breathe a word of this….is that clear?’

Crank gulped, not hesitating to nod; he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Wilford’s….retribution.

'Y-yeah of course….’

Crank winced as his voice cracked and whined again, he averted his gaze as he prepared himself for the onslaught of taunting. What he didn’t expect though, was the broad arm that suddenly wrapped itself round his shoulders; the arm belonging to a gently smiling Wilford.

'Your voice’ll get stronger if you want it to, I promise. Although, I think it’s kinda cool as it is now….' 

Crank’s eyes widened as he looked up at Wilford.

'Really?’

Wilford chuckled gently at him a little, feeling a little sad that the young man seemed so surprised. Anti meanwhile was grinning and took the opportunity to burst back into the conversation.

'HELL YEAH! IT’S ALMOST LIKE MINE!’

Wilford and Crank both snickered as Anti spread his arms wide and bombastically, Wilford donned a slight smirk as he tilted his head at the glitchy man.

'Anti I’m not sure that counts as a compliment..’

'HEY SHUT UP!’

Wilford giggled at him as Anti sent him a playful glower, and Crank just watched with a light smile. He was fidgeting again, I don’t think it was due to nerves though. I think it was just his thing. Like Wilford and his gestures, Anti and his glitches…they’re all just like, their THING y'know? Just because your body isn’t exactly how you want it to be, or your voice isn’t how you’d like it….that doesn’t mean you can’t MAKE it what you want it to be.

HOPE YA LIKE IT, LUV YOUS XX

[allyinthekeyofx]

Dreamcatcher -Prologue & chapter one.

SUMMARY -  A series of mysterious disappearances draw Scully deep into a nightmare world where nothing is as it seems.

Notes - This is the only true X-File I ever wrote and it’s a long one! It took me a year to write and I will post it here in double chapter chunks.  Lots of msr in this one with a good dollop of hurting and sweet Mulder-care.  No smut though.  I was a smut-free zone when I wrote this.

Northeast Georgetown Hospital. Washington DC. May 16th 1999.

Mulder ran a trembling hand over his eyes, closing them for a second against the image before him.

Knowing that the action was essentially futile.

Nothing, not all the therapy, all the blanking, all the self induced Friday night alcoholic stupors would ever rid him of the sight of his partner hooked up to the ventilator before him.

His first though as he had entered this room for the first time was that this couldn't possibly be his partner. She had seemed even smaller than she actually was, the unhealthy pallor of her skin suggesting that she was already dead.

He had almost been afraid to walk towards her, afraid that in doing so he would break the spell that held her hovering somewhere between life and death.

But eventually he had made the walk across the small space that separated them, grasping her ice cold hand in his, hoping against hope that some of his health, his warmth, would be transferred to her - as if his touch alone could bring her back to him.

A futile hope, that as the hours had turned in to days and still she lay, unmoving and unresponsive to the sounds around her.

A touch on his shoulder brought him back to the here and now, and through sleep deprived eyes he managed to focus on the hazy vision of the woman who had remained with him throughout this hellish week.

But right now he didn't want her there and he closed his eyes again. Unwilling as yet to face this version of a reality he wanted no part of.

“Fox.”

The voice was gentle, cajoling, attempting to summon him from his own personal version of hell.

Leave me alone

“Fox, please. I know this is hard.....”

Hard? Jesus.........Hard?

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, only the continuing reasoning from Margaret Scully preventing him from succumbing to this wholly inappropriate action.

“......but we have to go now.”

NO! I have to stay with her. Always, I promised I would always stay with her....

He opened his eyes slowly.

“I can’t do this. I can’t let her go like this.”

He tightened the grip on Scully’s hand. A grip he had not relinquished for more than five minutes in the days since she had been brought here, and traced a thumb over the fragile network of veins that contrasted sharply against the whiteness of her skin.

Two weeks ago I was commenting on her tan.

The thought popped unbidden to his mind, and he had to bite his lip sharply to keep the tears at bay.

Two weeks ago I was hitting baseballs with her in the park

Oh God, how had this happened? How had it come to this?

Two fucking weeks ago we were finally laughing again.

A moan escaped his lips as he dropped his head forwards, bringing her tightly curled hand to cheek. Resting it there, no longer even attempting to curb the flow of tears that pooled in his eyes and escaped their confines, making salty tracks down his face.

A thousand memories of those same strong hands, time and again delicately chasing away his demons, feather light touches on his back, his face, his arm.

An unspoken assurance that, no matter how hard things got, she was with him.

That everything would be all right.

How could he live his life without that touch? How could he even want to?

“You have to let her go Fox. You have to say goodbye. We all do.”

He finally turned his gaze to the woman above him, a woman, who, like her daughter had chosen to forgive him for the many wrongs he had brought on them. A woman who had essentially, taken the role of the loving mother he never had. Who even now, in the wake of her own grief remained strong for him.

Who would remain strong even after.........after..........

after I help to kill her daughter

He felt the hand on his shoulder again. Small, strong, determined. Just like Scully.

His Scully.

Not mine anymore.

“I need a minute alone with her.”

He felt rather than observed the slight nod. Attuned as he was to the Scully women, he felt it through the increased pressure of her hand.

“I’ll be right outside.”

Mulder nodded, waiting until he heard the tell tale click of the door closing. It was a sound he’d come to recognise easily through the past few days, and then turned his attention fully to the woman lying prone before him.

She had lost weight since the day he had brought her back despite the high tech crap they had fed in to her via one of the half dozen intravenous tubes that snaked out of her body.

On the first day, he had demanded to know what their every purpose was.

Needing to fall back on hard facts to take him away from the horror of the situation.

Finding small comfort in the fact that the invaders in her creamy skin were givers of life. Givers of hope.

But over the days that followed, the hope had waned, until he was forced to confront the reality of her situation. No amount of feeding, of nurturing, of loving her was ever going to bring her back to him. By doing so they were just prolonging the agony for all of them......and now the decision had been taken.

It was time to stop.

It was time to let her go.

Still holding her hand, Mulder eased himself carefully on to the bed beside her, unwilling even now to dislodge or disturb the equipment surrounding her. Her body rolled slightly against the pressure and rested against him, and even through the layers of sheets and blankets designed to keep her warm now that her temperature had dropped so low, the feel of her made his heart constrict painfully.

Every emotion in his conscious mind screamed at him to just gather her up in his arms and take her to someplace safe where nothing and no one would ever harm her. To protect her as he had always vowed to do and almost unbidden he raised her slender frame slightly so as to cradle her against his chest, holding her against him as he stroked her hair, her face, her back.

Trying to tell her all the things she had needed to hear in life.

The things he had never told her through some stupid misplaced sense of pride.

Not enough time Scully. There was never enough time for me to tell you. Never enough words to express what you mean to me.

“I’m sorry. So sorry I never told you. So sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I’m sorry for a thousand things that you’ll never hear...........”

His voice finally broke, and Mulder pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Breathing in the scent of her that lingered despite the antiseptic environment she was in.

Saying through thought rather than words what he needed her to hear.

Saying goodbye.

CHAPTER ONE

Washington DC. May 1st 1999 8:03pm

15 days earlier.

"So, Agent Scully, you feeling accustomed to the feel of my bat yet?"

Scully twisted her body as best she could from within the confines of Mulders strong arms and raised her eyebrow coolly, smothering the laughter that had been building up inside of her since they had started all this.

Play by the rules, Dana. Give him what he wants.

"Oh."

Her voice came out sounding perplexed, as if she had given his question serious thought...

"That's your bat I feel, huh?"

...and she was rewarded when colour spread along Mulders face like a wave.

Sweeping away the embarrassment her retort had generated, he continued the game, dipping his mouth once more to rest tantalizingly close to her ear. Sighing as he did so, he was surprised to see the merest shudder course through her body as his breath tickled her neck.

"No, Scully. What you're feeling there is my weapon. Loaded and ready to fire..."

Despite her best efforts, a bark of laughter forced itself from her mouth and her hold on the ash baseball bat loosened, which, had it not been for Mulders grip, would have fallen to the ground.

"Mulder!" she admonished, flicking her eyes to the small boy who stood grinning at them not 15 feet away. "There are children present! Anyway, I thought we were playing ball."

Behind her Mulder nodded.

"Hey kid I'm not paying you ten bucks an hour to stand there watching the sky. Do your damn job or I'll send Agent Scully after you. . .OW!"

He rubbed the spot where Scully's elbow had connected with him.

"What was that for?"

"Shut up, Mulder! I'm not going to tell you again. I need to concentrate."

Mulder cocked his head on one side.

"Want to try it on your own?"

"Not really. I'm fairly comfortable where we are right now."

She settled her gaze back to the child in front of them.

"Plus I have someone to blame when we miss."

XXXXXXX

"Well, Scully, I'll say this for you - you have a hell of a right arm on you. Ever thought of doing this professionally?"

The comment earned him yet another light punch on his forearm, but given half- heartedly and only because he expected it of her.

"Mulder, you're a jerk sometimes."

She smiled up at him and just for a second her eyes seemed to radiate a million different shades of blue, caught as they were by the spotlights that bordered the field. He felt like he could submerge himself in the goodness of her, holding his breath until he was forced to resurface for air, finally exploring the essence of Dana Scully, testing it, making it his.

"Only sometimes?" he teased.

Scully laughed, but shook her head slightly, indicating she had no wish to enter into that old argument with him, and reluctantly tore her gaze away from him.

They had finished with the baseball tutorial when the supply of balls had waned. Mulder had dug deep in to his pockets and sent the young kid on his way.

Scully had been sure that he was about to do the same with her, but instead, he had taken her hand and led her to the centre of the field, protested weakly as he trotted off to retrieve a large sports bag, and as he had dug into its depths to finally reveal a large tasseled blanket - the kind usually found on family picnics - she had crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Mulder...what are you doing?"

His only response had been to spread the blanket out on the dusty earth.

"Sit down, Scully. I have something for you."

She tried to shake her head, to protest that it was getting late, to voice the million excuses that suddenly crowded her head. But instead she acquiesced and dropped down beside him.

"Now close your eyes."

"What?" She laughed shakily but nonetheless did as he directed.

Seconds later she yelped as something freezing cold and solid dropped into her hand. Looking down she laughed out loud as her eyes lit upon a Chocolate Mega-cone in all its glory.

Correction, Dana; all its full fat- calorie - laden - artery-hardening glory.

Mulder smiled.

"I tried to get you one of those non-fat tofutti rice pop things you like so much, but the clerk looked like I was from outer space when I asked him, so this'll have to do. And look..."

He produced an identical cone from what Scully could now identify as a cooler, complete with crushed ice.

"You don't have to share this one."

As it turned out, she ended up half sharing anyway.

Mulder finished his cone with all the eagerness of a half-starved puppy, and since his eyes never left her hand as she made her way more daintily through the mass of ice cream and chocolate, she eventually took pity on him and surrendered its remains, watching in wonderment as it disappeared in three short bites.

And now she just sat, comfortable in his presence, listening to him recount the tale of alien baseball stars and rogue policemen. She didn't believe it for a minute, but allowed the sound of his voice to lull her into complete relaxation as he had done so many times in the past.

He had a beautiful voice, full of melody, and soft for a man of his size, and she allowed its harmony to wash over her in waves.

A perfect end to what had started out as such a crappy day. He had made it end perfectly with a gesture that was surprising both in its spontaneity and its tenderness. Mulder was not usually known for either.

"Scully?"

"Mmmmmmmmmm?"

"Are you falling asleep on me?"

Scully shook her head slightly, unable to summon up the energy to do anything more taxing.

"Uh uh. I'm awake, Mulder."

He snorted and she felt the cool air hit her as he shifted position on the blanket, the warmth of him leaving her.

"C'mon. Time to get you home."

He extended a hand down to her as he got to his feet and she accepted it gratefully, using him to pull herself up so she was facing him. His hazel eyes had turned green in the strange light that surrounded them, and almost on a whim, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, feeling the stubble scratching her lips pleasantly.

"Thank you, Mulder."

He gathered up the blanket and stuffed it back in the bag, which he slung effortlessly over his shoulder, and caught Scully's hand in his, bringing it up in front of his face.

"Get something on those blisters, huh?"

Scully nodded and almost against her will, her fingers curled around his, letting her thumb trace small circles over and over on the back of his hand.

Mulder left it there, surprised but pleased by this sudden show of intimacy, and together they walked back across the wide expanse of green towards the exit.

Back toward the real world.

Continued chapter 2

[sebuckyverse]

Lavender

Asked by Anonymous:  Hello Sweets :) I really love your writing, you cant imagine ! So I was wondering if you would write something for my birthday today with Bucky Barnes where he waits for you to come home to your shared house and he has a surprise for you. The bedroom is full of candles and when you get home he gives you a really gentle massage, that unfortunately leads to something more sexual and you have a Long romantic night together ? ;) Also his POV if you want hihi, that would be absolutely great <3

Warnings: swearing, smut, oral (m receiving), dom!bucky, unprotected sex

Word count: 1785

A/N: Well? Is it okay??

MASTERLIST | ASK/REQUEST | FOREVER TAGLIST

Today was te worst possible day ever, and it wasn’t even Friday the 13th. That was almost two weeks ago and surprisingly, nothing surreal happened that day. So it’s probably why the Universe thought to catch up and punish you on the day of your big meeting.

For starters your alarm clock batteries decided to heave their last breath in the middle of the night, making sure you woke up an hour later than planned, therefore not giving you enough time to cuddle with your boyfriend or even take a shower. You were reduced to a quick peck and dry shampoo, not to mention the huge amounts of deodorant. Even though you live in New York of all places, hailing a cab was extra difficult, leaving you no choice but to step in front of one and almost getting run over, but hey, at least it couldn’t get any worse than that, right?

Well, minus your coworker spilling his coffee on your brand new I-specially-bought-this-for-this-day lavender coloured blouse and you having to pay 50 bucks to your other coworker to borrow her blouse, it was mostly true.

Luckily God, or whoever, decided that you’d had enough of a shit day, so you easily breezed through the meeting and secured the deal, leaving you with a very impressed boss who let you go home earlier than expected. You texted your boyfriend that you were on your way home as you gathered your things and made your way out of the skyscraper. Arriving back home was much more peaceful. You paid the driver his money and closed the cab door, checking your mailbox and strutting through the gates to the front door.

You sighed as you opened to door, all of the tension leaving your body and you felt tired. But as soon as you stepped inside the house, you felt excitement sweep your body. The lights were dim and there was a fire lit in the fireplace, making the entire place feel warm and cozy, despite the cold January weather outside.

’’Bucky?’’ you called out.

You dumped your purse on the ground and stepped out of your classic black heels. You didn’t hear anything back so you decided to search the bedroom. Without even taking two steps, you felt something velvety under your feet. You looked down to see rose petals laid all across the floor making their way to the bedroom. Your heart swelled at the thought of Bucky doing this for you. He was a big hunky man who loved to cuddle and tell you he loved you and maybe cook breakfast for you sometimes, but as far as romance goes that’s as far as he went. Until now, apparently.

You walked past the valley of red petals and pushed open the bedroom door. Your eyes went wide as you took in the sight in front of you. The whole room was lit with nothing but candles, lavender and vanilla – your two favourite scents. The rose petals led to the bed that was neatly made and had a towel laying on it. Bucky walked out of the bathroom connected to your shared bedroom holding another towel and a purple make up bag. ’’Hey, beautiful.’’

’’Bucky, hi. What’s going on?’’ you wondered.

Bucky placed the items on the nightstand next to the bed before turning back to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. ’’I know how hard you’ve been working recently so I decided that it was time for you to relax.’’ You sighed happily and rested your head on his chest, feeling it steadily beat away. ’’How was the meeting, anyway?’’

’’Can we talk about that later?’’

’’Yeah, you’re right.’’ He chuckled. ’’C’mon.’’

He took your hands and gave you the towel he’d previously held. ’’Take your clothes off and wear this.’’

’’What?’’ You laughed but he just pushed you to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving you no other option but to change into the towel. When you walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your bare frame, Bucky had taken off his shirt and had laid out some bottles on the nightstand.

’’Lay down on the bed, sweetheart. On your stomach.’’ He instructed and you did excactly that. You relaxed on the comfy bed as Bucky came around and pulled the towel away, leaving you butt naked for him to see. You and Bucky had been together long enough for you to be comfortable with each other, but he still managed to make you blush when he looked at you, hence you felt your cheeks burning up.

’’Beautiful.’’ You heard him whisper and it made your heart beat faster. You heard him open one of the bottles of what you assumed was oil and massage it into his hands, warming up the liquid. A happy sigh left you as he gently placed his large hands on your shoulders and started massaging them, rubbing in the oil. The mixture of his cool and warm hand feeling excotic, like sipping a cold drink while in a desert. His hands glided down your back before pressing and swirling his thumbs into the dimples on your lower back, just above your cheeks. He wandered back up, his hands gliding along your sides, his fingertips accidentally, or not, bumping against your breasts, making you shiver.

After squeezing your shoulders a few times, he removed his hands to pour some more oil into them. Once done with that, he ran his down south again, this time running over your butt, making you tense. Bucky noticed, of course, and silently shushed you. You had a feeling this innocent massage wasn’t going to end so innocently. Bucky squeezed the jiggly flesh, then releasing it. He massaged your legs all the way down, paying extra attention to your tired feet, earning a pleasure filled groan from you at the feeling of your tense muscles relaxing.

Once Bucky had spent enough time on your legs and feet, he could hardly hold himself together. You didn’t know of his racing thoughts or of the prominent tent that had formed in his pants. That’s what excited Bucky even more, the fact that you were so oblivious to it. He thought about how easy it would’ve been for him to just press his bulge against your naked ass, since he was pretty much hovering over you. It was difficult for him not to just stop and take you right now, and by the way you were shivering under his touch, you probably would’ve let him, he thought. But he had other, better plans..

Bucky found he didn’t need to add more oil, your skin was already glistening in it, as he snaked his hands under you ass, massaging your thighs. He gently brushed his metal fingertips easily against your folds, already slick, but not from the oil. The filthy moan you let out was the last straw for Bucky, as he immediately drew away and stood up.

’’Get up.’’ He commanded. You’ve seen this side of Bucky before and you knew not to disobey him. ’’Shower. Now.’’

You shot a glance at his crotch and electricity fired through you as you rushed to the bathroom, untying your ponytail and stepping into the shower, turning on the hot water. You wet your hair when you heard the glass door open and close. A rough, brawny body pressed itself against your back, Bucky’s erection poking your butt. He grabbed the body wash from the rack and poured some in his hand; he rubbed his hands together to foam up the liquid and started washing your body, cleaning you from the greasy fliud. ’’Gotta get you nice and clean, baby.’’

He dragged his hands over your stomach to your breasts, squeezing the foamy globes, dragging his thumbs over your nipples, pinching them. You moaned and rested your head against his shoulder. ’’Oh, Bucky.’’

With his left hand, he continued rubbing your breast as his right hand found your centre, slipping two fingers past your folds, dragging back up again and circling your clit with his middle finger. ’’Ah, shit.’’ You ground your ass against his pelvis and he groaned at the needed friction it created against his throbbing cock. He turned you around and forced you to kneel in front of you. By the hungry, desperate look in his eyes you knew excactly what he wanted; and you wanted to give it to him. ’’Suck.’’ He demanded.

You didn’t waste anymore time, taking him in your hand and squeezing lightly, jerking your hand up and down. You poked your tongue out and licked his tip, swirling the head, making Bucky moan out loud. ’’Fucking hell.’’ He muttered before he took complete control, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back, thrusting fully inside your mouth, filling you up to the last brink, but being careful enough not to choke you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He knew you body inside and out.

You moaned around him, sending vibrations up his cock. He kept thrusting faster and faster, spitting out curses between delicious moans and grunts. You felt him twitch in your mouth and you brought your hand to cup his balls, rolling them while you scraped your teeth along the sensitive skin of his cock. It sent him into overdrive as he exploded in your mouth, shooting his load down your throat. ’’Oh my- Fuuck.’’

He pulled out and picked you up; you wrapped your legs around his waist and he slammed you against the glass wall. Your lips connected in a thunderous kiss, tongues fighting against each other. No words were exchanged, no pleas, no orders. Both of you knew what you wanted, what you needed; Bucky pushed past your opening, easily sliding home, his tip hitting your sweet spot. He couldn’t wait for you to get used to his size, instead started pounding into you instantly.

’’Shit, you’re amazing, doll. Taking my cock so good.’’ He grunted in your ear, as you cried out in ecstasy.

You felt a tingling sensation grow in your belly, Bucky’s thick cock gliding in and out of you in a brutal pace. With a few more thrusts you were sent over the edge, crying out, clutching Bucky’s shoulders as you quivered and squeezed his cock with your walls. The feeling had Bucky a moaning mess as he thrusted harder, your climax triggering his own as he came for a second time, filling you up with his seed, feeling it drip down his shaft.

You both panted, catching your breath. Bucky rested his forehead against yours and kissed your nose as he spoke. ’’Love you.’’

’’Love you more.’’

FOREVER TAG LIST:

@venetiangrl92 @heismyhunter @earinafae @snakesgoethe @unpredictable-firecracker @topkay @kenobi-and-barnes @magicintheelements @ultimatesmoshships1999 @4theluvofall @netflixjunkie13 @fandommaniacx @willowtighe @buckybarnesisalittleshit @followeroonieclassic @survivingthroughthereality @theliarone @vaisabu @jasmins3 @watch-out-for-thorns @agentsofcap @mustbenot @iarnasoldat @wolfs-hunt1 @rhyliejenson @topthis808 @paranoid-borderline-insane @bunchofandoms @erinvanlyssel @amrita31199 @mytasterpeculiar @fantasticimpaladoctor 

[gadgetsrevv]

Atletico won the summer transfer window but will they pip Barcelona and Real Madrid to La Liga?

The 2019-20 La Liga season kicks off this weekend and much of the attention will be on the top three teams fighting it out for the title. Graham Hunter gets you ready for the new campaign with a look at how their offseasons unfolded.

Jump to: Will Felix be La Liga’s star? | Can Atletico’s new arrivals shine? | Did Real do bad business? | Neymar a distraction for Barcelona?

Atletico Madrid have won the summer, hands down.

Diego Simeone’s team having sold over €300 million of talent and brought in over €240m of young, hungry replacements (to date) means that even if either of their La Liga arms race rivals managed to land Neymar before the window closes on Sept. 2, Barcelona sheepishly pick up the silver medal, with Real Madrid not only third (where they finished the last two La Liga campaigns) but frantically trying to convince everyone that bronze looks awfully similar to gold.

If only there were a trophy to show for it. The transfer-related tag of “Summer Champions” signifies about as much as the increasingly heard but slightly risible tag of “Winter Champions” for those who sit top of the table when the Christmas break arrives.

Nevertheless: a job well begun is a job half done, right? So let’s give more than just kudos and a patronising pat on the back to Atleti. They faced what looked like a horrendous challenge, haemorrhaging a mix of experience, winning mentality, club legends and two superb young bucks in Rodri and Lucas Hernandez. Yet their judgement, efficacy of market management, speed of work, ability to spot the revelation of this transfer window (or indeed many previous), Joao Felix, and their net spend of around €8m — if you factor in the €60m arrival of Rodrigo from Valencia — suggests that Atleti have spat in the eye of adversity.

Whether it wins them La Liga remains to be seen, but a summer that could have left them fighting an uphill battle now sees them muscular, nimble and potentially able to punch above their weight. This season in Spain is going to be exciting, a real smackdown between the three giants of La Liga — Barca, Real and Atletico — so here are some talking points.

Will Joao Felix be La Liga’s star?

Felix is only 19, still rather slender and will find it testing to work with Atletico manager Diego Simeone and coaches Mono Burgos and Oscar Ortega. Felix is a La Liga debutant with initiation songs to sing, pranks to put up with and image-management by the club imposed on him so that expectations are dampened after his €126m arrival.

Instead, this is a kid blessed with such extraordinary talent, such chutzpah, acceleration, positional wit and an exceptional eye for goal that his Atleti teammates are already instinctively looking for him whenever they have the ball. Every single player in that squad has taken one look and said: “We have signed a diamond — let’s get him on the ball.”

– When does the 2019-20 La Liga season start? – ESPN La Liga fantasy: Sign up now!

If the composer George Frideric Handel were still alive, Atleti would be commissioning him to compose a second Hallelujah chorus. They have found their Messiah.

No matter his talent, a player of Felix’s age, carrying such a weight of expectation and responsibility, will encounter bumps along the road in his first complete season in La Liga. That said, the move remains extraordinary for a number of reasons. With Madrid and Barcelona involved in what is both an unseemly and, arguably, unnecessary squabble for Neymar’s grossly expensive services, don’t they both look stupid for missing the chance to purchase Felix? The answer is a resounding “YES!”

Moreover, Atleti somehow managed to agree with Benfica, the player and his agent, Jorge Mendes, a payment plan where they only have to splash out in the region of €40m (down payment, agent payment, sell-on payment to Porto where he originated) before the rest is paid over the course of his contract. If Felix performs well enough to help Atleti reach at least the Champions League semifinals, the forward could earn the his new club the entire remainder of the fee within nine months. That. Is. Utterly. Astonishing. Business.

Can Atletico’s other new arrivals replace those who left?

Losing Rodri (€70m to Manchester City) and Lucas (€80m to Bayern Munich) are blows Atletico would have wanted to avoid, but the club have long known they would need replacing at some point.

At the back, even though Diego Godin — who left for Inter this summer — was bedevilled by errors last season, it’s worth waiting to evaluate the loss of his personality and “win at any cost” attitude. But for Atleti to add the tall, tough Felipe from Porto, as well as the talented Mario Hermoso, for €30m less than Bayern were forced to pay for Lucas, is spectacular.

Kieran Trippier’s move from Tottenham came out of the blue but while he might not be as attentive to details and defensive concentration as Simeone likes, his attitude and crossing ability should give A+ service to what should be a thrilling Atleti front line.

None of Renan Lodi, Hector Herrera or Ivan Saponjic make you fret for Atleti’s investments, while Marcos Llorente, signed from hated rivals Real Madrid, is a fine facsimile of Rodri. They aren’t identically talented but Llorente was under-priced at €30m, brims with energy, industry and athleticism, is a superb professional and looks ready to make Atleti’s central midfield punishingly hard-working.

Then there’s the “other Rodri,” Rodrigo Moreno. If Atleti wrap up a €60m move for this athletic, relentlessly team-minded striker, who has been playing winning international football with Koke and Alvaro Morata since they were all kids, it’s the icing on the cake.

Atletico have had one hell of a summer. But it’s not over yet. Spain’s transfer market closes on Sept. 2 and there’s still time for huge change, though they are already looking in better shape than their rivals.

The fact that several key veterans chose to leave at the end of their contracts had threatened disaster, but it can now be construed as advantageous. Madrid and Barca are replete with players on high wages they’d like to ship out but who are refusing to budge. Not Atleti.

Has Real Madrid’s spending addressed their needs?

Atleti’s rapier-like approach to business contrasts starkly with Real Madrid’s blunderbuss style. Yes, they’ve splashed out (at the time of writing) €305.5m (gross, not net) and there’s quite a lot of “rock ‘n roll” glitz to boast about with the likes of Eden Hazard. But have they specifically reinforced the things which went awry last season? Have they done what coach Zinedine Zidane wanted this summer?

In short, no. And an utterly horrific 7-3 thrashing imposed on Zidane’s team by Atletico at the ICC tournament in July, suggests that Real might not even be favourites in their own city, let alone for the La Liga title.

Left-back Ferland Mendy was indeed a Zizou choice, and has sparked Marcelo‘s competitive instincts, but at €48m it’s not good that Mendy already out with a thigh injury. Centre-back Eder Militao may turn out to be an ideal buy, but Zidane has been flitting uncertainly between four at the back and a 5-3-2/3-5-2 system, so we’ll see how quickly the €50m 21-year-old (a €40m+ profit for Porto just 12 months after buying him) can bring security at the back.

Rodrygo and Kubo (an 18-year-old Japanese starlet who was initially part of FC Barcelona’s academy until their FIFA ban was imposed) ooze promise, thrills and a sprinkling of the magic dust of international marketing allure, yet will struggle to make a real impact until they gain a bit more experience.

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Hazard adds the pedigree — unquestionably a talent of gargantuan proportions — but why on earth did the €100m winger turn up for work at his new club, one which is in turmoil, in the kind of preseason shape which would have been acceptable in, say, 1978? It’s not Madrid’s fault but it’s certainly emblematic of dipping standards.

And finally, €60m striker Luka Jovic will score goals but looks well short of having the build up play and savvy which Madrid will need against the elite group of Liga and European clubs they measure themselves against. He’s that mythical breed of striker who “only” scores goals. An odd, expensive signing.

The players who have arrived all add their own parts of youth, athleticism, hunger and energy — valuable commodities in what was a moribund Madrid squad last season — but there are still more weaknesses in the business which club president Florentino Perez and his right hand man, Jose Angel Sanchez, have managed to conduct since May.

Gareth Bale, with the Premier League and Chinese transfer markets now closed, has stayed put — despite Zidane admitting in public that “it would be best” if the Welshman left — and is likely to stay unless PSG accept him in part exchange for Neymar or he’s sent out on loan.

Thus far, there has been no move for Man United midfielder Paul Pogba either. Whether the controversial World Cup winner is or isn’t the cure for Los Blancos’ midfield ills, Zidane is wedded to the idea of buying him and has been infuriated by Perez’s failure to secure that deal.

If Neymar arrives, it will be like salt in the wound. Thus far, Real’s best midfield options look like being composed of Luka Modric, Toni Kroos and Casemiro, which although still full of class, is bemusing. Slow, sometimes disinterested, porous, unable to control possession, lacking athleticism and physicality all last season it’s remarkable that (attempts to sign Pogba aside) no corrective action has been taken to strengthen the midfield.

Will Barcelona be distracted by Neymar pursuit?

Judging them by their own, well-publicised objectives for the close-season, Barca could award themselves a complacent pat on the back, a glass of cava, exchange mutually appreciative smiles amongst their football-executives — and then their rivals could laugh up their sleeves at the Camp Nou finances.

Barcelona’s self-set tasksheet was: add competition at left-back, augment possession-control and passing in midfield and then, a year late, add French flair up front. Junior Firpo, Frenkie de Jong and Antoine Griezmann (was there really any doubt where he was going?) tick those boxes.

Throw in some measurable progress from their young talents (Jean-Clair Todibo, Carles Alena, Ricki Puig and Carles Perez) and the outward signs are decent. However, even with the departures of Malcom, Andre Gomes, Marc Cucurella and Denis Suarez, Barcelona need to sell … and profitably.

Rafinha, Philippe Coutinho and Juan Miranda must be calculating how long it’ll take them to unpack their training ground lockers, while if the right price were offered for Arturo Vidal then the Camp Nou bean-counters would produce their abacuses in Olympic time.

The club has vastly strained its financial muscle for three reasons. 1) expensive contract extensions; 2) investment in the Camp Nou renovation project; 3) President Josep Maria Bartomeu’s public promise that his parting gift (before summer 2021, which is the latest there can be elections to determine his successor) will be another lengthening of Lionel Messi‘s contract.

Messi craves Champions League victories, not because Cristiano Ronaldo has more of them but because he’s a natural-born competitor, who has also suffered a series of brutal European disappointments in recent years at the hands of Atletico, Juventus, Roma and Liverpool.

If Bartomeu wants “Team Messi” to look indulgently on the opening of contract negotiations, he’ll do well to re-patriate Neymar. Messi, whether you concur or not, believes that his Brazilian pal will add incisor teeth to Barca’s European bite (Luis Suarez hasn’t scored a Champions League goal away from home for nearly four years and only hit the net five times in the last 29 UCL matches).

However as long as PSG keep insisting on cash only for Neymar, whether that sum is €120m or €220m, Barcelona can’t afford to buy him back. I believe it’s that simple. Nor, it seems increasingly clear, can they persuade Ivan Rakitic or his Sevilla-born wife, that the footballing life (and climate) is anything but worse any further north than Barcelona. PSG want the Croatian, but like Bale at Madrid, he’s not keen to depart.

All of which leaves both Barcelona and Madrid desperately thrashing around for a means to secure a Brazilian they can’t afford, didn’t budget for and who’ll also cost them dearly in terms of existing playing staff (Vinicius Jr., Isco, Karim Benzema and Rodrygo at Real; Ousmane Dembele and Coutinho at Barca) who’d be required to drop to the bench or leave altogether.

Meanwhile, over at Atletico, Felix may still only hint at the potential to reproduce what Neymar has achieved in his career, but the Portuguese is impressing with a new cadre of athletic and hungry teammates around him.

Atleti win the summer. Now, can they add the La Liga title?

Hold tight, this battle has the potential to be immensely entertaining, explosive, and potentially embarrassing for some.

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