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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

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"Spare Me." Danny Boy/The Axeman X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Okay! SO! I wasn’t expecting to do this tonight but fuck it. In the movie Final Girl (2015) there is this character, Danny Boy or The Axeman, and fuck it. I like him. I always wanted to do a oneshot of him and I re-watched the movie last night and so I did it! Here it is! Some straight up porn with very little preamble. You don’t need to know the movie, not really. Let’s just go off, hm?

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.1K. Danny Boy/The Axeman X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Chase. Predator Prey. Threat Of Violence. Mentions Of Murder And Gore. Fuck To Survive. Hair Pulling. Rough Treatment. Oral Sex. Throat Fucking. Sloppy Blow Job. Grinding. Gagging. Choking. Praise. Pet Names. Dirty Talk. Teasing. Taunting. Cum Eating.

—

It was a stupid fucking idea. Agreeing to go hang out in the woods with four guys, all alone, and why? Because you had a pathetic fucking crush on one of them and would take any flimsy excuse to spend time with him. You were sure that if you declined the invitation it would look poorly on you and you wanted to think you were fun, so you agreed. Besides, spending time with his friends, showing investment? It would score you some major points.

You show up in the colour of dress that was asked, the boys come around dressed to the nines themselves you all pile into the car and are taken to this point in the woods. Couches and chairs around a game of truth or dare started but it quickly led to this.

Turns out you were asked out here for entertainment of a different kind, they were going to hunt you.

Your heels were forgotten quickly, you didn’t bother with them, ran barefoot through the woods until your lungs burn and your legs ache. You found a hiding spot, you thought maybe you could be quiet and outlast but sadly, he proved you wrong, he found you.

It is dark, it is cold, there is no wind and you have your back to a tree trunk, crouched down and listening, trying to see if you could determine where any of them were. You’d heard screaming and calls of your name a while ago, but nothing as of late. So when the axe comes down, lodges in the wood next to your head, it feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, you scream, hands up and he laughs. He rips the axe out of the wood and flips it around in his hands before he puts it metal side down, he leans against the wooden end casually.

“There you are lil darlin’! I was actually worried for a minute there you’d made a clean getaway!”

How does he do that? He’d been running through the woods and didn’t look like he broke a sweat, not a hair out of place, the manic mischief in his eyes, the cock of his head and that fucking smile.

“Why are you doing this, Danny?” You asked quietly and he hums, “Oh you know, I get bored so easily and this is just fun, that’s all.”

“That is what this is about? You having fun?” You asked in disbelief. “Hunting girls for sport and killing them is fun?”

“It’s the besssst.” He sighed, the look shifts to fond, his eyes wander and you know he is recounting God knows how many memories of other nights like this one. How many people as he killed? How much blood spilled in these woods with this axe? You are in the same boat, could meet that same fate if you aren't careful and cunning.

The idea strikes. He wants to have fun, that is the most important thing, so you need to offer up something else that is fun and maybe you can save your own life, maybe he will spare you.

“What if I have another game in mind?” You asked and he pouts, “But we are already playing a game right now. It’d be rude to cut this one short before it’s done, before we get to the best part.”

You swallow hard, gain some composure and say, “Yeah, well, we can come back to this one, let’s just uhm, pause it for a minute for this other one. It’s really fun, I promise.”

He stares you down. The silence is a heavy and oppressive blanket weighing on you. Fear curls in your gut, your hair is standing on end, goosebumps are raised everywhere and he finally speaks, “You’re so adamant it’s adorable.”

Standing up straight again he says with a shrug and a grin, “Alright, I can’t say no to you!”

Shit, it worked? “Really?”

There is that winning smile plastered on his face, he nods, “Really. You’ve convinced me. So what’s this other game you got in mind?”

It did not take much convincing. Particularly when you suggested he could still have the axe involved.

You are trying your best not to gag too much while on your knees for him, your hands are on his hips, fingers digging gently into creamy skin, able to feel the bones underneath as his hand is in your hair, rocking forward into your eager mouth. Drool is slipping out of your lips, running down your chin, some stray drops have landed on your chest, your tongue flat against the underside of his shaft, you suck deeply and his fingers thread and twist in your locks, he pulls and says harshly, “Look up at me.”

You do so, eyes peek open and look up to see him, his tie is undone, his jacket is off and rested on a stump behind him, pants down and open, suspenders hanging free.

He is sweating now, a few pieces of his hair had gotten loose, teeth gritted and bared, a harsh inhale escapes him as you push him in deeper, swallowing around the head of his dick. He groans as you repeat the action and once more before he pulls on your hair even harder, fucking forward into your mouth, forcing himself deeper still. His balls are pressed to your chin, he grinds deeply and grunts, “Don’t stop moving those pretty little hips honey.”

That axe of his was involved, but how was it being utilised? He set it up before you'd gotten to work. He took his weapon of choice and brought it down with great force so the sharp metal was implanted in the ground. It rests now underneath you, he has it placed so the long wooden handle is at a good forty five degree angle, perfect for you to grind on while you suck him off and that is just what he wanted you to do.

A shaky nod, you bob your head up and down, taking him almost totally out before driving him back in as you start to move your hips once more. You are grinding on the polished wood, dragging your soaked and slick cunt along it, you were still clad in the silky underwear you’d put on that night hoping he’d be the one taking them off you. The pleasure sparks, this is filthy, you are in the open night air, any one of his other murderous friends could happen upon you, find him literally balls deep in your throat while you are humping his murder weapon that has caused how many other women in your position to fall.

It feels much better than it should. You are shivering and not from the temperature outside. “There you go, gooood job.”

He breaks eye contact, his head tips back, his hand in your hair helping to lead you as you pleasure him, “Fuck, you are right, this is some real fun.”

The praise as well as him cursing makes you moan against his shaft. You are a wreck, you are being sloppy but he doesn’t seem to mind, seems to like how he is ruining you, getting off on it.

Your breathing is strained and laboured through your nose and he is quick to point that out, “Hard to breath hon?”

Before you can have any kind of response his hand that isn’t in your hair comes down, he pinches your nose, plugs it effectively and starts aggressively fucking into your mouth, deeply, down your throat and you can’t breathe. “Grind it out, don’t you dare fucking stop if you ever wanna breathe again.”

His voice is strained with pleasure and you listen, your focus is divided in two places, the first one is to stop yourself from gagging and the second is put into frantically working your hips. The pleasure spikes, the sensation jolts up your spine, one of your hands leave his hips and instead lock on the axe’s handle, you rock harder, moaning weakly around him. Your eyes are half lidded and hazy with lust, the lack of air is clouding your mind, your head heavy, you feel drenched, it is staining your thighs and all over the wood. Your clit is throbbing, you find yourself rocketing towards the edge and you whimper.

He asks breathlessly, “Are you close?”

A nod so small he might not have noticed it if he wasn’t stuffed down your throat, he’d slowed, was fucking deep still, hard, but not quickly, he is drawing it out. He holds your nose for a moment more, your vision is getting spotty around the edges, your hand on his hip pushes weakly and he finally lets go. You suck down a deep breath through your nose, greedily gulping down air. His hips had slowed but yours had not, he could see how pleading your gaze was, “Awe I know, you’re welcome. I coulda killed you right there before you got the chance to cum but I’m gonna be nice. How generous am I, huh?”

He cooed it in a condescending tone, saying it teasingly, as if you should be sincerely grateful he hasn’t murdered you yet, not before you had the chance to get off on this instrument of violence.

“You better hurry up though. I’m close too.” You could tell, he was pulsing on your tongue and you were so, so close. You grip the wooden handle tighter, grind harder, the feeling running through you was intense, you feel delirious with pleasure, a warning hum around him as you are on the very edge. “C’mon I wanna see it, get there, cum on it.”

The verbal encouragement wasn’t needed but it does help, does make you tip over. Your thighs tremble, you gush, your panties were plastered to you, totally stuck to every fold and contour of your cunt as you find your bliss on smooth wood. You moan loudly, he picks up the pace again, taking advantage of your weakened state, abusing you while you are mid orgasm, he is really giving it to you again. He fucks harder, it’s brutal, you gag yet again and he praises you, voice shaking and loud, “Good girl, there you go.”

You whine and the come down takes a while, you don’t stop, stuttering rolls of your hips drawing out your orgasm, the aftershocks making your body jerk. You gag, fresh spit spills over your chin and he doesn’t pull your hair, his hand pets over you softly instead, “Oh ju-just a liiittle longer, almos' there sweetheart.”

The praise doesn’t stop there, “So fuck-ing good for me, taking it so well, gonna swallow, fuck, every damn drop-”

His sentence is cut off with a groan, a final push of his hips, he holds deep and he cums. You do as he thought you would, you swallow over and over, taking every bit of him without issue, welcoming him and managing to choke all of it down.

He takes his time. He sits in your mouth, enjoys the warmth and the wetness for over a minute as his breathing begins to even out. Slowly he pulls out with a hiss and then you can truly breathe properly. He is totally untangled from you, hands off.

You let yourself sit back, no longer resting your throbbing slit against the axe, you take a deep breath, eyes falling closed. You had to admit, that was really, really fucking fun game. You think you made a good impression, you think you might have saved yourself.

Listening to him hum is relaxing even though you can't place the tune, your eyes open back up, he is getting dressed again, fixing his pants back up, shouldering his suspenders, tucking his shirt in. He picks up his jacket and slips it back on, adjusts it and you ask, voice thick from the rough treatment he gave, “Good time?”

“Oh sugar, it was unforgettable.” He sighs and then comes closer once more, his hand grips the end of the axe and he jerks it up out of the ground.

He cradles it in both hands, he tilts it and you wonder what he is doing for a second until it hits, he is looking at the slick you left behind, seeing how your juice catches in the moon and starlight. You weren’t expecting this but maybe you should have. He leans down, his pink tongue darts out and presses to the handle, he licks up the length of it, midway up he meets your gaze, his stare boring into yours as his tongue reaches what he was craving, tastes the mess you left behind. He lets out a pornographic moan, he keeps going, licks over the metal too, you’d made so much it had spilled that far down, he is uncaring over the dirt there as well, much too caught up.

He stands straight again, licks his lips as he looks down at the axe and he sighs, his hand that isn’t still holding the axe pushes his hair back, “Fuck, you taste good.”

Looking back down at you, he props the axe on his shoulder, his opposite hand comes down and palms himself through his dress pants, “I wanna keep playin’, I think I got another round in me.”

Eyes wide, you would be fine with that, with fucking him, but you can't cut in before he says, “Only after another round of the first game of course. You make it through that and we can play your game again, sound fair?”

It takes too long for it to register in your lust hazed mind. Your legs were asleep from how long you were on your knees, you are freezing cold, he expects you to get up on your still shaky legs and run through the woods again for your life? Without thought it leaves your mouth, “Wait, what?”

Both of his hands grip the axe handle, something in his eyes hardens, gearing up to swing and he says, “Unpause.”

#Final Girl (2015) x reader #Danny Boy X reader #The Axeman X reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #ANYWAY #SO #ENJOY THIS

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

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umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[032] — rain check!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: im finally done with exams which means im opening up requests again 🥳 ALSO there’s only the epilogue chapter left!

something that iwaizumi didn’t quite get was the idea of getting up early hours before the game even starts.

it’s almost seven in the morning and it was still dark out. the sun could barely be construed through the tall skyscrapers of tokyo as he entered the large stadium. the actual charity game wasn’t starting until 11 am and the alders weren’t going to arrive for another couple hours. and yet the white florescent lights casted shadows upon the athletic trainer and the rest of the msby team in the early morning. granted, the bright lights did strain his tired eyes a bit.

fatigue was evident upon iwaizumi’s expression. he didn’t get much sleep last night knowing what today had in store for him—rejection and heartbreak or utter joy? he liked to believe he had high hopes, but he honestly wasn’t sure anymore.

the black jackals were already warming up on the court. atsumu and sakusa were helping each other stretch while hinata was talking tomas’ ear off. everyone was doing what they supposed to be doing with iwaizumi staying on the sidelines and checking his clipboard out of habit as if any of the writing on it would change.

“hey,” a voice calls out, familiar in all the right and wrong ways that iwaizumi almost hesitated to look up. but once he did, he was greeted by a smile from bokuto. “good luck today.”

confusion seeped through iwaizumi, it was slight, yet still noticeable enough from the furrowing of his eyebrows. “shouldn’t i be the one saying that to you?”

he was the one playing a game today.

“i meant about (y/n). we’re going to be working with each other for a while, so no hard feelings to whoever she chooses, alright?” bokuto sticks his hand out for iwaizumi to shake.

a look washed over him, but rather than confusion it was simply unreadable. why was he being so nice? if anything, it was clear bokuto had the upperhand ever since iwaizumi got into that argument with you a month ago, and yet bokuto wasn’t taking any of the advantages handed to him. perhaps at that point did iwaizumi understand your dilemma.

“of course,” the athletic trainer says, clasping his hand against bokuto’s rough ones with a firm shake.

as they let go, a buzz emits from both of their phones. bokuto was glad that he still had his phone on hand as he opened up the notification, iwaizumi soon following suit.

your head thumped against your seat, the sound of the plane’s engine battered against your temples as you let out a sigh. your hands still shook from texting iwaizumi and bokuto, recalling the beat of your heart against your ribcage as you thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button.

man, you were never going to grow out of this phrase of choosing what’s easy over what’s right. it was easy to juet ignore your problems and leave it all be, but it wasn’t right. iwaizumi and bokuto didn’t deserve this type of treatment from you and you’re well aware of it.

you stared out of the plane’s window, eyes wandering the near-empty runway. sugawara noticed how quiet you’ve been this entire time. usually, you loved idea of waking up in the early mornings to drive to the airport where everything’s serenely surreal. it didn’t matter if your flight were to be delayed or if there was a small child kicking at your seat, you always looked forward to plane rides. and yet your demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

his gaze flickers down to your phone clutched into your hand as if you feared it was going to disappear. every few seconds you would check if they had texted back.

an inaudible sigh left sugawara as he turns over to akaashi who sat in the seat next to him, closest to the aisle. his headphones were already muffled against his ears and his eye lids were on the cusp of dropping. sugawara supposes he couldn’t get help on this one.

“i told you to text them that last night, (y/n).”

“it was late and i didn’t want to disturb them,” you answer. it was half true and half a lie and sugawara could clearly see right through it.

“but you knew if you waited until the last minute, they wouldn’t have the chance to chase after you to the airport,” he presses.

was it that easy to read you like an open book?

you could only stay quiet as you wanted to disappear into the light layer of murmurs of the rest of the passengers on the flight. it was going to be like this for thirteen hours, huh? one long flight from tokyo to los angeles like it’s nothing.

“i figured that i’d be away for long enough that they’ll finally give up their feelings for me.” you finally say, breaking the silence that sugawara patiently waited in. “it sounds selfish, i know that, but i’d rather have iwa and bo move on knowing that i chose neither of them than hurt knowing i only chose one.”

sugawara pressed his lips into a line, thinking carefully on what to say next. “you’re still hurting them either way, don’t you think?” the words left him before he could even stop himself, yet he was would be lying if he chose not to say anything.

your gaze, all sober and tired, finally met up with his as a pitiful smile melted across your face. “it’s not like i haven’t before...”

“and what about you?” sugawara asks, “doesn’t it hurt you the same way?”

“of course it does,” but you almost wanted to scoff at your words, “we’d have to suffer the pain regardless, that’s just how it is.”

“it doesn’t have to be...”

sugawara swears he felt his heart break as your voice waivered, “i know.” it was hushed, almost like a whisper. “but i chose it to be this way–i guess i really am selfish.”

“(y/n)—” he tries to speak in attempt to comfort you, but he is interrupted by the flight attndant’s presense.

“please refrain from using technology during take off, thank you,” the lady says kindly.

you nod immediately, completely overlooking the text bubbles appearing on both iwaizumi and bokuto’s chats. before you could feel the buzz of their messages, you turn off your phone completely as you stuffed it into your bag.

fun facts! —

both bo and iwa know that y/n texted them both and they decided on whoever y/n is who she chooses

bokuto ended up being pulled from the game halfway through because he was too distracted

iwaizumi couldn’t focus on the game either as the whole time he was checking his phone if you ever responded

they stayed up all night hoping to get a text back from you (hint: it isn’t over yet)

taglist: (closed!)

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#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto scenarios #bokuto imagines #bokuto smau #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi smau

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lackingspace · 4 years

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Vindictive (Ghostface x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Danny is jealous and that’s your fault.

Warnings: Rough oral sex, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, cum swallowing, light daddy kink, Danny just being Danny.

A/N: Had a request for a Jealous Danny. Here it is! I hope you like it. Sorry its taken so long! ･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･

When you were first dropped in this place you’d been confused, scared, and a little more than annoyed because what the fuck had you done to land yourself here? After the first few freak outs of death and despair, being sacrificed, and the general malaise of being here became your new normal. Falling into a routine became easy after that- trial, struggle, escape if you were lucky, die if you weren’t, and repeat.

Quite frankly, things were getting boring. The others trapped with you made it better, talking, joking around on occasion- friends forged in unfortunate circumstances. It was a tiny slice of normality that you were grateful for because who knows how long you’d been here or would be here. Time didn’t mean anything when there was really no way to measure it. You just knew that it was far longer than you’d have liked. Long enough to become numb to the killers and their brutal treatment. To find them not so threatening and more of an inconvenience.

You missed the real world. Missed the simple things in life- a walk in the park, meeting up with friends, food- God did you miss food. But what you missed the most was an intimate connection. And sex. You definitely missed sex. Relieving tension and having something to distract you from this monotonous existence would have been a blessing.

None of the others trapped with you really appealed to you. Sure Jake was cute, and Yui had that badass look, even Ash had the daddy thing going for him...but none of them really set your nerves on fire. At least not even enough to try it out and spend eternity awkwardly if it didn’t fly. But damn did you need release. so with no options for a partner, you settled on sneaking away into the woods to take care of yourself.

And that’s how he found you. One hand down your pants and the other up your shirt, eyes closed, head tossed back, and softly moaning. He’d leaned against the tree directly in front of you and waited quietly until you opened your eyes. You’d almost had a heart attack when you opened them to see Ghostface casually leaning there while staring you down. It was altogether embarrassing but still had your senses buzzing.

All he did was firmly tell you to keep going. That he was enjoying the show. And something about it, his voice? The command? It just worked for you. Maybe it was the combination of him being dangerous, a killer- someone familiar, but not, an unknown that made your senses tingle mixed with his nonchalant attitude and that damned voice that made your toes curl. So you’d done what he’d asked and kept going.

That marked the start of whatever it was you had going on with Ghostface. At first, it was just hooking up- sneaking away when you saw him lurking and wandering back with a few new pleasurable aches, pains, and bruises. You were sure some of your friends noticed- you knew for a fact Bill, Ace, and David did. The raised brows they’d give you on occasion told you that you were found out. That they knew a clandestine meet up just took place. As long as they knew what you were up to, just not with who, you didn't care. For all they knew it could be another survivor who hadn't wandered back from a trial yet because who would be fucking a killer?

You were content with ignoring them and they seemed fine with not questioning. Besides, it wasn't their business and you have no plans on stopping because it was something you enjoyed- it unquestionably helped deal with the mental stress of repeatedly dying. After a while though, and you really couldn’t pinpoint when, it turned into something a little more. At least for you.

Made you unnecessarily giddy when he was the killer in your trials. Both of you more playful in chases, he had a habit of drawing those out with you, grabbing your ass before letting you run away only for him to ambush you, down you, and then run his hands up all over you before picking you up.

If he caught you jumping through a window? You better expect a few well-placed slaps while he teased all sorts of dirty things he'd do to you once he had you alone.

You didn’t want to admit it, but feelings had reared their ugly head in you for this sarcastic bastard. You caught yourself being soft for him when you really shouldn’t have. Honestly, you felt a little bad because you weren’t the best teammate if he was the killer of the trial. You should have been focusing on gen rushing, saves, or even trying to distract him- which you were more than capable of doing.

But instead, you found yourself being distracted by him. You'd be there staring, sighing while watching him sneak around. Giggle to yourself about how much of a sadistic bastard he was when in a chase. And if he found you? And God did you want him to- you were even more useless. You weren’t fooling anyone with your pseudo-chase. You didn’t really try to escape but that was ok, both of you liked it that way. You always blamed it as an off match when questioned why you’d done so poorly. No one seemed to notice it was only during a trial with him, and you were totally fine with that.

So that was how your existence was for now. Honestly, you weren’t mad about it either. His attention in and out of trials gave you back a spark that had been dulled after one too many sacrifices. This trial was no different, you found yourself relaxed, good-spirited, and snickering at a comment Zarina just made. When the gen popped you looked over to see Jane shaking a hand with a mumbled apology. A second later she let out a shriek and started running away.

You knew what that meant and so you tried to gauge if you should sneak away as well, but you hadn’t seen what she had. Would've been nice if she’d have at least said the killer before sprinting off, but you understood sometimes they just caught you off guard and fight or flight took over.

Cautiously looking around you decided it was best just to move on, Zarina had the moment Jane ran. You probably waited around too long and would get caught, but at least you'd be prepared after you got off the hook. The fact that you hadn’t heard any footsteps or seen anyone usually meant it was someone stealthy too. You really didn’t want the shape. He was always terrible to play against in this underground lab. Harder to outmaneuver him within the space. Hope welled inside you that it was your...boyfriend? well, whatever he was, you wanted Ghostface. Trying to quietly sneak away seemed like it was going fine until you were suddenly stopped.

Something had gripped the back of your shit and yanked. You stumbled and then felt yourself being dragged around a corner only to have your face pressed against a wall. You were pretty sure you knew who it was, but shit why was he being so rough?

“So that’s the game you want to play, huh?” Your wish came true, it was your sarcastic boo, Ghostface- you had no idea what he was talking about though, “What the hell do you mean? What’s th-” he cut you off as he pressed in against your back while placing a hand in front of your smashed face, “Don’t give me that. You know damn well what I’m talking about.” He said it with so much venom dripping in his voice, you’d never actually heard him like that before.

He was usually snide, sarcastic, kinda dark, sometimes angry, but this? He sounded well beyond any of that. And it was all aimed at you….shit.

“Dude, I really” He pressed a forearm to the twisted side of your neck and gripped your shoulder. You winced at the pressure, “Really have no idea what you’re talking about. What game?” There was silence as you felt cold sweat run down your spine. In that same vicious tone, he answered as his grip tightened on your shoulder, “I saw you and that bastard.”

You wracked your brain trying to figure out what he meant. It had to have been something in this trial, he wasn’t upset when you’d seen him be-- oh god it hit you just like that. You’d slipped and would have had a nasty face-first fall into some crates, barrels, and a pallet, but Ace had grabbed you. Unfortunately, it’d been by the hips and as soon as he got you up he’d apologized for the placement while patting a shoulder.

He must have seen that. It had to be what he was talking about….But did that mean....was he jealous? His knife suddenly stabbed into the wall next to your face, ohhh, even if he denied it you could tell, he was. There was no question with the growl in his voice, the tight grip he had- which you’d like to point out was only getting tighter, and now the knife threateningly in your face? This wasn’t his normal rational ‘let me weasel my way in, tease, and manipulate to my advantage’, this screamed irritated topped with irrational.

And even though your brain screamed it was an awfully bad idea, you were going to have fun with it.

“Not even going to deny it? You little fucking whore.” The rage in his voice felt like someone had submerged you in acid. It really did make your skin crawl that he thought you’d do something like that. After everything the two of you got up to he should have realized how much his dick did it for you. And only his dick. That aside, you weren’t going to just lay down and take his attitude. Nope, not at all. If he was going to be a jealous prick then you were going to be a coy bitch. It might land you in hot water, but you were hoping it was the kind you liked with him, “Oh, but Ghostface, I thought you liked it when I was bent over?”

The arm still pinning across the back of your neck lifted off quicker than lightning only to move into your hair and rip your head back with a snarl, “Only when your bent in front of me you little cunt!” You moaned at the pain in your scalp but still enjoyed the feeling. It sent some nice jolting tingles straight to your nipples, “But I was in front of you.” The grip in your hair was impossibly tight as the knife scraped against the wall as it moved from next to your face to press against your newly exposed throat. Ignoring that you pressed on, “You’re just pissed that it wasn’t your hands on me.”

Even with his knife millimeters away from cutting into you and the very real possibility that he was beyond reasoning, would just slit your throat and throw you up to hang- there was still an overwhelming feeling of bravado and the need to tease just as much as his anger was crushing down on you.

With that feeling overflowing, you took the chance before he responded to push just a little more, “In fact, I bet you’re mad because you couldn't make me stay like that.” Wiggling under his tight grip had your hair pulling and the knife pressing harder into your throat- a wet trickle down the side told you skin broke, “Bet you would have fucked me right there too. Let my friends see who's been giving it to me.” The hiss he let out had a smirk clawing its way onto your lips. That feeling of getting under his skin made it impossible to keep your next thought locked inside, “Too bad it was just Ace...His rough hands grabbing me, having him pressing against me, he could have pushed me however he’d wanted...too bad it wasn’t you.”

Growling out, “You little bitch.” he quickly pulled his knife away as he pressed his hips into yours- he must have liked what you'd said because he was half-hard already. Pulling your hair harder had you moaning out at both the rough treatment of your scalp and the hard length now pressed against your ass. A hot flush circulated your system as relief filled you- The fact that he hadn’t plunged the knife in was a good sign. It seemed like your gamble had paid off.

You moved your hips against his as he leaned in to hiss in your ear, “You’re fucking right I would have fucked you right there. Would have shown that prick exactly who you belong to.”

His knife hand grabbed your hip in a bruising grip and directed you how he liked, “I should just throw you up on a fucking hook with your tits out and my name carved across your chest for everyone to see.” Another wave of heat flushed through you at that, Would he? That’d be embarrassing as hell and you really did not want to explain that to your friends, at least not yet. But it sent heat through you all the same. "Show them how nasty you really are." On second thought explaining wouldn't be that big of an issue. Your squirming gave away how much you liked the thought, which he pointed out, “Of course a dirty girl like you gets off on that. I shouldn't even let you come. Should just use you and make you wait until you're really fucking sorry. ”

Ignoring that last part to focus on his phrasing. He had said should, which implied that he was questioning it, so you asked in a shaky voice, “But?” Between his hands and his hips, you couldn’t hold back the moan at the pleasurable drag of him against your ass- he was only getting harder, “But nothing, I might just fucking do that...either way, they're going to talk. ” The hand in your hair released and reached around to hold your cheeks in a harsh grip, “I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson because it seems like my mouthy whore needs to be reminded of who she belongs to and what that means. They get free tickets to the show...Lucky them.”

The venom was still there, but instead of the pure angry tone from before, it was colored by an undercurrent of something darker- something hotter. Something that told you on an instinctual level you wouldn’t be walking the same if the entity didn’t have pity and heal whatever he was about to punish you with. Fuck, you wanted it though. Wanted all the pleasurable pain he was about to dish out to you. “You’re going to regret letting that bastard anywhere near you.”

Your brain wasn’t functioning not when he’d just declared he wanted everyone to hear him fucking you. See the evidence of it. Threatening it like he’d done about carving up your tits was a hot possibility, but he was actually serious about this. You weren’t sure what it was he was going to do to you, but you could tell you most certainly weren’t going to be quiet about it.

Ghostface could get rough sometimes, but it wasn’t the usual. Demanding? Yes. Controlling? Definitely. Explicit? Absolutely. But being rough just to be rough was generally only when he was especially frustrated, and that wasn’t often. Maybe only a handful of times since you’d been together and at this point, you weren’t even sure how long that was, all you knew was that it’d been a while.

Which boasted to how much this affected him. How jealous he was seeing something that really, really hadn’t been anything at all. It should have turned you off, sent you running by how possessive he was, but you ignored that in favor of knowing he got you wetter than anyone else had ever done before. There was no way he’d admit to being jealous though, not outright, but you knew that’s what this was all about and fuck did that work for you. Having him teach you a lesson? All you could do was moan at the prospect.

“Such an eager slut for it even after knowing your friends are gonna see. So pathetic.” You whined, whether in protest or confirmation it wasn’t clear, “You think it’s ok to let someone else put their hands on what’s mine? That’s not going to work, kitten.” at the pet name you knew this was going to be fun- but you couldn’t let him know that though, would have to turn up the waterworks, “We’re going to show them just what a disgusting whore you really are for me. Let them see you taking my cock and how you beg for it.”

He shoved you down to your knees. The impact against the hard concrete making you wince, “Good, feel the sting. Better get used to it because your throat is about to feel it too.” he was going to fuck your face? God. You loved when he made you choke on it and you could tell with how aggressive he was you really were going to choke.

The thumb on the hand on your face swiped across your bottom lip, dipping in to press down on your tongue causing some drool to slip down before regripping your face with the now wet appendage, “You’re going to open wide and let Daddy use this pretty mouth of yours while we let all your little fucking friends know whos been sending you back to that fucking fire pit covered in bruises.” Goddamn that set your nerves ablaze and if your panties hadn’t already been drenched that was added insurance. He was usually subtly possessive but this was flat out plain as day possessive and it had you crying for it.

You didn't care anymore. You didn't give a single fuck if you had to explain why they'd caught you with a mouth full of Ghostface's cock- and maybe more. if this meant him declaring to everyone that you were his you’d happily tell them to fuck off if they had any issues.

You were going to beg him for it, but the hand gripping your face prevented anything escaping outside of mumbled strained moans. He answered for you though because he forcefully made you nod up and down. In a mocking falsetto, he voiced for you, “Yes, sir. I’ll open up like a good girl and apologize with my filthy mouth. I'll show you how sorry I am for letting some asshole put their hands on me.”

Yes, fuck yes! is wanted to say, but all that came out was a garbled moan through your closed mouth. At the sound, his grip tightened, “Such a fucking slut. Would you have moaned for that fuck too?” At your muffled outrage his grip forced your gaze up, “At least you fucking know better on that.”

You thought he would release you to undo his pants, but after a second of silence and you quietly looking at him, he said, "well? Get to apologizing with that pretty mouth before I decide to gut you instead." Ah, he wanted you to do it. That was fine by you, didn't really want him to let go of your hair anyways. You opened his pants with ease, already intimately familiar with the clasps and he squeezed your cheeks forcing your mouth open before he finally released the grip as you took him in.

He was hard and pulsing when you pulled him out, precome just slightly swelling at the tip. He would have shoved into your still open mouth if it hadn’t been for the entranced look you were giving him. The affectionate desperation you wore while staring helped quell the rage clawing through him. He decided he'd let you play for a second, seeing you so willing to drool for him tore against the need to roughly shove down your throat.

Unabashedly licking a hand before wrapping it tightly around his base to give him a rough tug. Staring up at his mask again you pleaded with him, "I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t do it on purpose." Teasing his tip against your lips before you kissed the head, "I don't want him. Or any of them. Wanted it to be you" Licking the underside followed by a few gentle nibbles to the base made his breath catch, "Always you, daddy."

His cock twitched against your tongue as he hissed, "And I like that they'll know. I want them to hear what you're about to do to me." He retightened his fist in your hair to pull your head back slightly. He took himself from your hands to slap his cock across your cheeks, "Yeah? You're gonna get off on them hearing your mouth full of killer cock? Filthy thing." You whined desperately trying to nod against his grip, "Then open fucking wide." You dropped your mouth quicker than he finished speaking and you were rewarded with another slap across your cheek before you felt him rest heavy against your tongue.

It was hard not to close around him and start working on the shaft, but you could tell he wasn't going to let you warm up to it. He wanted you wrecked- a gagging crying used looking mess. And the heat that sent through you had your clit pulsing in want and made you squirm around for some type of relief. But you'd be a good girl and take it for him.

"Keep your fucking eyes on me and don't you dare try to keep quiet. You better make as much noise as you fucking can." Before you could answer he was shoving to the back of your throat and down. The choked sob you made was just what he wanted as you gagged around him. Sliding down your throat, he mockingly cooed, “Aw, is that too much? Don’t lie, I know you can take it, kitten. Just relax and swallow like my good girl. Impress all your survivor friends.”

You gagged hard and sputtered around him while he kept thrusting using the grip in your hair to hold you in place, “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re always gagging for it regularly. I bet those little boys wish they were here in this tight wet heat instead.” His voice was strained and you could hear him holding back his own moans.

Gripping his thighs tightly while trying to relax like he'd suggested, but the burning stretch of your throat was hard to ignore, “But that's why we started this, huh?” his thrusts had been rapid and shallow, but were turning slower while he held in your throat longer, “None of their cocks would do it for you.” Swallowing around him only made him hold deeper, “ For as much of a dirty slut you are, none of them could get you going like I can.”

Tears were freely falling- leaving tracks down your cheeks, drool was constantly spilling out, your throat ached at the persistent gagging, and the obscene noises you were making with each thrust was driving the both of you wild. “None of them. None...of...those...pricks!” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, “No one can fuck you like I do.” You moaned sloppily around his cock in agreement, “ They’re not going to throat fuck you like this. And they not going to bend you over and make you fucking take it like daddy.” crying out around him just as much as you were gagging- near constantly and God did you love it.

You’d be begging for him to fuck you if you didn’t have a mouthful at the moment. So instead you were squirming, tightly gripping his thighs, tears continued to spill down, and taking anything he gave you. He knew you well enough to know what your pathetic looks and sounds meant, but he wasn’t folding, “Aw, do you want something?” all that came out were some choked sobs, “What's that? I can’t really understand you.” He shoved completely down your throat and held your head there causing you to swallow and make some disgusting throat sounds, “You should really learn not to talk with your mouth full, kitten.” He tutted at you while you sobbed harder, “ But I can’t expect any manners on such a dirty girl.”

His hand tightening and his voice gaining a shakiness betrayed how close he was even if he looked like the picture of control, “You’re not meant for them.” His pace quickened, “Your place is right fucking here.” He was using both hands to direct your head now, “On your goddamn knees for me.” He pulled out as he ripped your head back, “Gone on, tell them who fucking owns this you!” It only took you a second to catch your breath before you were rasping out his name, “Ghostface! I’m yours, just yours!” Movement in your peripheral caused your eyes to widen, someone was definitely watching. Maybe they all were, but you wouldn’t fuck this up by looking over to them. Who knows what he’d do then.

You could hear how smug he was when he whispered, “Yeah they’re fucking watching. Saw you choking on it like a professional. Now show them how much of a cumslut you are for me and beg for it. If you do it good enough, maybe I’ll be nice and let you cum before the end of the trial.” Denying him wasn’t even a question, you’d said you wanted them to hear and now they had. The satisfaction that at least one of them knew was sending a burning hot pulse through you.

So you started begging with your raw voice, “Please, I need it Ghostface! I want it so bad! Need your cum! I wanna taste it so bad. Please! Please, daddy, can I have it?!” He was still pumping his cock in front of your face while you continued to say his name like a prayer, “Open that pretty mouth for me, Babe.” You did as you were told and opened wide while staring up at his mask. The hand not working himself gripped your chin, sliding his thumb inside before moving back up into your hair to yank your head where he wanted. Keeping your mouth open as far as you could you moaned for it.

You could see more movement to the side, but you ignored it when you felt the first spurt of his cum splash against your cheek. He covered your face before giving you the last on your waiting tongue. “Keep your mouth open.” You heard the telltale clicks of his camera and embarrassment flushed through you just as a new wave of arousal settled low in your stomach. “You can swallow it now.” You made a show of savoring the taste for him, and anyone watching.

Slowly opening your eyes you could feel your lashes heavy with his cum. You moved to wipe some of it away, but he caught your wrist, “You’re going to leave that right where it is.” You gave him a questioning look that he answered with, “I’m going to hang you up on that hook and you're going to run around the rest of this trial with it on your face.” Your jaw dropped as your face burned. That was so fucking embarrassing. You’d think that wouldn’t bother you since you let everyone watch you be thoroughly face fucked but having to talk to them with cum on you went to the next level. But you wouldn't try to stop him- didn’t want to. It sent a nasty pulse of perverse heat through you, “If you keep it like a good girl, I’ll fuck you in front of them before the trials up.” You were begging before you even realized.

He chuckled while brushing some of your hair back from your face, “Well, let's get you up there on the hook then.” He lifted you with ease and surprisingly gently compared to his treatment just a second ago. You felt the familiar feel of the hook entering you, heard yourself scream, and then you were hanging there and he was patting a cheek of your ass, “Remember, no wiping it off until I say.” and then he was walking off.

You hung there for a few minutes before you saw Jane silently walking towards you. You tried to look away, but she was already lifting you off of it. Settling on your feet had you unconsciously looking up to her. She was taking you in with a raised brow and a slight smirk, “Ghostface, huh?” Hearing her say it was about enough to kill you from embarrassment.

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

God please can I get anything with Rook hunting down his escaped darling? This man has a thing for chasing you down you cannot convince mo otherwise

I’ve been meaning to write a special headcanon/scenario post about Pomefiore to celebrate the release of Chapter Five, but,,, this’ll have to do, for now. I’m doing a disservice to the best dorm, but hopefully, some Rook content will delay by inevitable shame.

Title: The Hunt.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Predator/Prey Themes, Implied Stalking, and Mentions of Death.

You really used to think Rook was just on the extravagant side.

That’s how it’d seemed when he first introduced himself, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to his chest, declaring something loud enough and incoherent enough to draw the eye of every onlooker within earshot. Some of his actions were questionable, his gaze often leaning towards the unnerving side, but you’d never thought he was villainous, he hadn’t seemed to want to do harm. He meant mischief, as far as you could tell. He didn’t try to hide the way he watched the more particular members of the student body, but he never took anything beyond a picture. He never made a secret of his fondness for you, but his affection was a fleeting thing - he’d said as much himself a dozen different times. You figured Rook would move long as soon as something newer and shinier came along. You thought he was just having fun.

You supposed you weren’t wrong. He had been having fun. He was still having fun.

It just wasn’t fun for you, anymore.

“Mon cœur,” Rook called, the familiar term of endearment stretching into something twisted, something perverse as it echoed through the lifeless woods. The forest surrounding the Pomefiore dormitory was always dark, always daze-like, always horrid, but tonight, it felt especially misleading, as if the trees themselves were uprooting and rearranging to guide you in any direction but the one that’d lead you away from your hunter. That’s what he was now, really, your hunter. Rook had a way of making his prey feel like pets, of making you feel like a partner rather than another trophy for him to decapitate and mount on his wall, but all of those blissful lies and domestic fantasies had dissolved into thin air the moment you slipped out of your chains and threw yourself out of that elegant, stained-glass window of his. It’d been a stupid move, in hindsight, you were only doing damage to yourself and giving him a blood-trail to follow, but a lifetime of picking crystalline shards out of your skin would be less agonizing than another minute spent in his captivity. You just wished his footsteps hadn’t fallen in-tempo with yours so quickly.

“You really should come out, (Y/n).” His voice was calm, projected with the all the tranquil serenity of a man who already knew he’d won. It wasn’t close, it wasn’t deafening, but the fact that you could hear him at all was damning. It meant he’d be able to hear you, too, even if you had no plans to announce yourself so blatantly. “I know you love your games, and I do want to play with you, but staying up so late is bad for your skin, no? And you must be so tired, dear. If you put an end to this silly show of defiance now, I may even let you sleep in my bed, rather than the cage where you belong.”

You didn’t respond - you wouldn’t have, even if you hadn’t been hiding. Pushing forward, you drove yourself to run faster, to escape both his cage and his bed. There was a clearing in your path, a spot where the leaf-canopy broke apart and the ground grew barren, harsh moonlight seeping in like an unwanted thought, but you skirted around it, following its borders until you found the spot where the foliage was at its thickest. You didn’t think as you forced yourself into the narrow space between branches and trunks and vines with so many thorns, you had to wonder if you’d die of blood loss before Rook got a chance to wring your neck himself, only pressing a hand over your mouth and doing your best to control your panting. You just had to stay put for a minute. You just had to give him time to move on. Then, you’d be able to circle back and beat on every door in Pomefiore until someone recognized you as the student who’d gone missing weeks ago. Then, you’d be safe.

Rook, on the other hand, had no reason to tuck himself away. He stepped into the large clearing without hesitation, letting out a long, labored sigh as he idly glanced towards his surroundings. He must’ve begun his chase as soon as he noticed you’d gotten out, his intricate wardrobe cut down to little more than a black shirt and an insulated, camouflage jacket, both doing leagues more to block out the biting cold than the simple button-down shirt you’d been given to wear. He hadn’t had time to choose a proper weapon, either. Rook preferred traditional bows, the kind without cogs or cables to alleviate the tension of the draw, but he was carrying a simplistic compound bow tonight, made for efficiency and speed rather than enjoyment. Made for maiming his target, rather than indulging them in their rebellion, an arrow already knocked and ready to be drawn back at the first hint of an opening. “Perhaps I should call you mon ange, instead, considering you’re so eager to fly away.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a graceful turn on his heel and a smooth survey of the forest. His eyesight was good, but it couldn’t be that good. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, where the shadows were their deepest. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out on your own? You know how much I hate having to drag you home.”

Liar. That dirty, filthy liar. He’d already dragged you away from Night Raven, he’d already dragged you away from your classmates and your family and your friends, and all because he was under some deluded, pathetic notion that he’d only be able to love you - truly love you - if he nailed you to the ground, first. His gaze wandered, he was the one who couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d just wanted to ensure you’d still be there, waiting for him with open arms, when he got back from all his many expeditions. He’d imprisoned you, and he’d delighted in it, reveled in the joy that came with a source of companionship he’d be able to bleed dry. He was only unamused now that you’d refused to let him cut you open.

You could feel your cheeks begin to flush in anger, your nails curling into your palms, but that did little to stop Rook from going on. Always going on, never stopping. You hadn’t realized how much you hated the sound of his voice until you’d been forced to listen. “I’ll admit, I’ve been busy, lately. Have I been neglecting you?” He laughed, the sound airy, non-commital. As if it suddenly didn’t matter if you came out, as if he suddenly didn’t care. “This is childish, is it not? I mean, I never thought you would stoop so low just to buy for my attention.”

It was so little, it was nothing, just a shift of your weight in the barest hint of a reaction, but dried leaves and twigs seemed to crack under your feet as if you’d thrown your biggest tantrum yet. You reacted immediately, scrambling to free yourself from your constrictive hiding place, but Rook was so fast, he was so ready. It was all you could do to catch a glimpse of his bow as he took aim, your efforts to escape from his line of fire turning out all-but futile. You pressed yourself against the nearest trunk, but in the end, he was the one who faltered, his arrow barely grazing your bicep, cutting through your sleeve but only leaving a thin, red line in your skin, the shallowest wound he’d ever inflicted. You allowed yourself to smile, you allowed yourself to laugh, but Rook didn’t move to fire again, only slinging his bow over his shoulder, slotting it into place as if he wouldn’t need to use it again. Not on you, anyway.

“You really should come out,” He said, one more time. “These kinds of things tend to get rather ugly when they’re not given the proper treatment.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but before you could gather up the confidence to ask, something sharp and frigid pounded through your injured arm, stretching from your fingertips to your shoulders, and out of reflex, you glanced towards the cut. A pale, lilac fluid was smeared across your skin, dripping from the small wound, the color so faint, you hadn’t noticed it before. The same shade of purple that coated his arrowhead, even after it’d buried itself in the ground.

Oh.

That made sense. For Rook, at least.

You hardly tried to resist it, your body buckling under its own weight, crumbling until you were little more than a mass of stained clothes and writhing limbs, every part of you contorted in agony so vivid and bright, the darkness seemed to dissolve, kept at a faithful distance by an unmoving wall of white-hot pain. It was relentless, it was ruthless, and it only got worse as Rook’s calloused hands took hold of your tense form, lifting you off the ground and pulling you against his chest, cradling you as gently and as tortuously as he could. His hum was liked a needle to your ears, the click of his tongue as fatal as a dagger to the back of your neck, but even then, you knew it wouldn’t kill you. No, no, that’d ruin Rook’s fun. That’d be too merciful for him. That’d be too kind.

And to think, you’d almost forgotten the flare your hunter was capable of.

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 2/16 (all chapters)

“Oh...do you two know each other?”

Principal Nezu glanced from you to Shouta, eyes bright with curiosity. You didn't blame him. In his shoes you too would wonder why such a thing hadn’t cropped up during the application process. Why hadn’t you named him as a reference? Why hadn’t Shouta mentioned knowing someone with your skillset the moment the role became available?

“No, no,” you said, conscious of how defensive you sounded.

Nezu was now your boss and there was no appropriate way to explain the circumstances of your first meeting. You were the new guidance counsellor, hired for your good sense and professionalism; the perfect role model for teenagers in line to become the next generation of pro heroes.

Good guidance counsellors didn’t fuck strange men. They didn’t sit in nightclub toilets for twenty minutes, scrubbing away a seemingly never ending stream of cum. You had thought having a guy cumming inside you would be the least messy option. Oh, how wrong you were.

Nezu didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press it any further. Instead he dismissed himself, leaving you and Shouta alone in the corridor in an awkward silence. He clearly hadn’t expected to see you again either.

“This way,” he said, leading you to his classroom, which had erupted into chaos in his short absence.

You wondered what sort of teacher he was. He must have been a respectable one if Nezu had asked you to observe him specifically.

The change in atmosphere as you entered the room was enough to answer your question. The classroom fell silent, all eyes on you.

“This is (Name). She’s the new guidance counsellor and the Principal wants her to observe us for a while. Don’t embarrass me,” he said, before turning to you. “Take a seat.”

He wasn’t even your teacher, but you hurried to obey, taking a seat at the back of the classroom and reaching into your purse for a notepad and pen.

You tried to concentrate and ignore the elephant in the room. Every time you tried to focus on Shouta’s words, though, your mind wandered to how he’d sounded groaning with pleasure.

You crossed and uncrossed your legs, trying to ignore the heat pooling between them. It was inappropriate for you to be thinking of such things at work, in a classroom no less.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to make it worse. You wondered how it would feel if he bent you across the desk; what it would be like to ride him on it.

You were only too grateful when class took a short recess and Professor Nezu returned to show you to your office.

“You look a little flushed, (Name),” he said, “are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, yes,” you said, “it’s just...new job, lots of information to process. I’m fine, really.”

You got the feeling Nezu knew you were lying, but he didn’t say so. Instead he left you to log into your computer and rearrange your desk, safe in the knowledge that someone would come in to check on you in an hour or so.

Reshuffling the office turned out to be a bad idea. The previous guidance counsellor had a collection of pamphlets behind her desk that covered all manner of issues, such as drug use and bereavement. Your gaze lingered on the one about unprotected sex.

Somehow, even the office was judgemental.

You reached for your cell phone and opened the group chat.

>> I’m in trouble

Sayaka was the first to reply.

>>Why? What happened?

>> The guy from Ego. He works here.

At that, everyone in the group started to type at once.

>> Omg is he your boss?

>> No, he’s a teacher here.

>> Kinky ;) does he have a cane

>> Of course not!

>> Shame.

You put your phone down on the desk, rubbing your temples as it continued to ping with each new message.

Your mother had always told you to be mindful of your actions and their consequences, but she’d never told you what to do when it was too late.

You thought you’d gotten away with it. You weren’t pregnant, you weren’t sick and you were never going to see him again.

You picked up your phone again and skimmed through the new messages before typing yourself.

>> What do I do?

Aptly enough, Rei was the first to respond.

>>Talk to him. You said he didn’t like games, remember?

She was right. You remembered the straightforward way he had asked what it was you wanted from him and how flustered it had made you feel. You got the impression he would want the same treatment under the present circumstances, no matter how awkward it was.

>> Alright. I’ll try and get him alone at some point.

>> Good luck!!!

You switched off your phone and sat back down at your desk, running your fingers through your hair.

It was the right thing to do and you knew it, but you got the feeling it was going to be easier said than done.

━

Five minutes after the final bell of the day, Present Mic walked into your office.

“(Name),” he called out, “con-grat-u-lations on surviving your first day!”

“Thank you, Professor,” you said. “I’m looking forward to working together.”

If Shouta worked here, then the guy you saw at Ego must have been the real Present Mic and not just someone with a passing resemblance. You wondered if he recognised you, though soon dismissed it. He was direct in a completely different way to Shouta, who didn’t waste a single word. Present Mic didn’t seem to have an off switch, but all of his words came straight from the heart. If he recognised you, he certainly would have said so.

As if sensing your thoughts, he thrust a hand into your face and waggled his finger.

“No, no, no! This will not do! Call me Hizashi. Hi-za-shiiii.”

“Okay,” you said with a small smile. “I’ll make sure to call you that from now on...Hizashi.”

“Cute! So cute,” he cried out, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Now listen. The school day is over, and you know what that means?”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, instead squeezing your shoulders.

“It’s time for the after party!”

“A-after party?”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “You’re the newest member of the faculty and the principal has asked us to be as welcoming as possible, so we’re going to take you for beers!”

“Beers?” You said, suddenly wondering if they were going to take you to Ego . You hoped not.

He led you out of the classroom, arm still wrapped around your shoulders.

“Yes, yes...no need to thank me,” he said, “it’s our duty as your colleagues. You are but a cute duckling stepping out onto our riverbed…soon to be a beautiful swan.”

You chose to ignore the implication that you were an ugly duckling.

“Hey, Eraser!” he called out across the corridor. “Eraser, this way!”

You wondered who he was talking to, only for your heart to skip a beat when you actually saw. Shouta was standing in the doorway of the staff room, a pile of folders under one arm. His gaze drifted from you to Hizashi and then, as if he already knew what was coming, turned the other way and let the staff room door close behind him.

“Hmmm, maybe he didn’t hear me,” said Hizashi and you had to fight to keep the smile from your face. This was exactly how things had played out at Ego .

Hizashi led you to the staff room, where the professors were packing up for the day.

“Everyone,” he called out, “grab your things, we’re going for drinks!”

“You really don’t have to make a fuss,” you said, feeling incredibly self conscious. “It’s very kind of you, but…”

“Nonsense,” said Midnight, strolling over. “We should get to know one another, we’re going to be working together, after all.”

“Eraserrrrr,” whined Hizashi, “you’ll come too, won’t you! It’s 2 for 1 on drinks!”

You hoped he’d say yes. There would be plenty of opportunities to get him alone at a bar.

“I’ll pass,” he said.

“Awww, come on,” said Hizashi. “It’ll be fun. They have those fruity drinks with the umbrellas that you like!”

Shouta shook his head and dumped the pile of papers he had been carrying onto his desk.

“I have papers to grade.”

Hizashi let go of you and scooped the files up from Shouta’s desk.

“These papers?”

“Give them back.”

“I will,” said Hizashi, an enormous smile across his face. “At the bar.”

Shouta’s face fell, as if they had had this conversation a dozen or more times before.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

━

An hour and a half later, you were sitting at a table in an izakaya, cradling a lukewarm beer. You’d taken only a couple of sips since your arrival, partly because of how self conscious you were about being in the company of your new colleagues, but also because you wanted to keep your wits about you in the hopes of getting the opportunity to speak to Shouta alone.He had had even less to drink than you, spending the time glaring from the sealed bottle in front of him to the papers Hizashi had confiscated.

Questions had been rapid fire from the moment you sat down. What was your quirk, where did you go to college, were you local, had you relocated for your new job?

Midnight, Nemuri as she had told you to call her, asked the question you had dreaded the most.

“So,” she said, leaning over the table, “are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“A cutie like you? Single?”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly curious.

“I was seeing someone,” you said, thinking back to the dinner that had changed everything. “We were together for years, actually, but we broke up a little over six months ago.”

You didn’t miss the flicker of recognition in Shouta’s expression as he no doubt did the maths. You cringed, realising too late that you had indirectly admitted to him being your rebound. He picked up his drink and took a long sip, all while your coworkers murmured between themselves. Your gaze drifted to the edges of his jawline; the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Don’t tell me...did he cheat?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Did he travel overseas?”

“No, no…”

“Did he die in a horrific accident?”

Everyone turned to Sekijiro, who shrugged defensively.

“What? Someone had to ask.”

“He didn’t die,” you said, “he didn’t leave the country either… he just…wanted different things I did, that’s all.”

Not so long ago just the mention of your ex left you in floods of tears. Even now, after so long had passed, it brought tears to your eyes if you didn’t catch them fast enough.

You had found one of his sweaters in the back of your wardrobe only a matter of days before your interview at UA. You had no idea how long it had been there, or how you had managed to miss it during your clearout, but it still smelled of him and you buried your face in it before you could stop yourself.

“Men are dogs,” said Nemuri, raising her glass and clinking it against yours, “you’re better without him.”

“We’ll find you a new guy,” said Hizashi, “what’s your type?”

“I…”

You didn’t know and you didn’t want to admit it.

“I um…”

“I think I know a guy,” said Nemuri, “how do you feel about dog hair?”

Shouta sighed loudly at that.

“This is a waste of time,” he said, “I’m going home.”

He reached across the table for the papers Hizashi had taken, only to receive a slap across the knuckles.

You were grateful for the interruption, especially as it seemed to distract everyone else from your love life.

“A toast,” Sekijiro said, lifting his glass, “to our new guidance counsellor!”

Nemuri lifted her drink and you lifted yours, clinking drinks together.

In that moment, embarrassing one night stand aside, you felt less like an outsider and more like you belonged.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as complicated as you thought.

“Cheers!”

━

You parted ways another hour later, Nemuri and Hizashi drifting away for karaoke and Sekijiro saying something about chicken wings.

“I’ll walk you home,” grumbled Shouta, “I have business that way anyway.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I told you. I’m going that way.”

“Okay, well, if you’re sure.”

You hadn’t had the chance to get him alone at the bar and knew this would be the only one you got that day. Perhaps that was his plan as well. You found it difficult to get a read on him.

You stood in awkward silence as you took the train, body close to his. You thought about making conversation a few times, though very few subjects came to mind. You didn’t know him well enough to make small talk that wasn’t immediately obvious.

“Well, this is me,” you said as you arrived at your front door and fiddled with your keys. “It’s not much but it’s home!”

Relax, you told yourself, we’re adults and more than capable of an adult conversation. If you show your professionalism then-

You dropped the keys.

Fuck

“Haha, sorry about that,” you said, scooping them up all but shoving the door open. “Butterfingers.”

Up until recently you had been proud of your apartment. Originally it had belonged to a great aunt, who let you rent it for a discounted rate. You had painted the walls yourself, built cupboards and shelves and painted those too. You’d crocheted your own throw blanket and stuffed every single cushion you owned.

Since your boyfriend left, though, all you could think about were the hopes and dreams you had lovingly worked into everything: the corner you had left empty to make room for a future moses basket; the wine rack you had bought for when you hosted dinner parties. It was surely a direct contrast to anything Shouta might have expected, and almost embarrassingly so.

“Uh, would you like some tea?”

“Mhmm.”

This was your chance and you were determined not to waste it, reaching for some snacks as the kettle came to a boil.

“Make yourself at home,” you said in an attempt to distract yourself from how badly your hands were shaking. You had no idea how to broach the topic with him. No matter how you phrased it in your head, it sounded awkward.

Shouta had taken a seat at your kitchen table and nodded his thanks as you carried over the tea tray.

“I wanted to talk to you about my students,” he said, reaching for the folders Hizashi had taken from him. “Just seeing them isn’t enough. They keep their problems to themselves.”

Only then did you realise that he hadn’t got papers to grade at all. These were student dossiers- gold dust for a guidance counsellor. Had he meant to discuss these with you all along?

“Sorry if it’s not a good time,” he said. “But I wanted to give you an overview of the students in my class and my points of concern.”

It was the last thing you might have expected from this conversation. In class he had seemed distant, almost hostile. Here he was, though, giving you a head start on how best to support them. It was not at all what you had expected from him, yet you weren’t sure why. You had left almost everything you knew about him in Ego’s bathroom.

“Of course,” you said, taking each file he offered.

He took the time to go through each one, going through every grade, every quirk, every weakness. You had never known a teacher with so much insight into their students, from Todoroki’s difficult home life to Midoriya’s self destructive need for success. You could see you had your work cut out for you.

“Thank you for all of this,” you said, turning a page as he nibbled a rice cracker.

“Don’t mention it.”

Even now, in the process of giving you a cheat sheet, he was straight to the point. It brought a smile to your face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, “it’s just...you’re a surprisingly nice person.”

He sighed at that and the pair of you fell into a heavy kind of silence.

“About what happened,” he said, “at Ego …”

“Y-yes?”

“I’m not gonna say anything about it at work.”

“Really?”

He raised an eyebrow and you realised just how excited you had sounded.

“What, did you think I was going to compare notes in the staff room or something?”

He genuinely did sound offended and you instantly felt awful. You’d admitted to him being a rebound, expressed surprise at him being kind and now this. You’d insulted him so many times today without meaning to.

“No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that. It’s just...well...I’ve never...done anything like that before. I don’t know what happens next.”

“Nothing,” he said. “That’s what happens next. Today is our reset.”

Reset.

You quite liked the sound of that. It was the best case scenario and more than you could possibly have asked for. You could shelve the events at Ego as something someone else had done.

It was perfect, so why did it leave you feeling empty?

Your heart was heavy as you showed him to the door and you leaned against it after you closed it behind him.

You had never dated, so why did it feel as if he’d broken up with you?

You told yourself you were happy for the reset, even as you ripped the door back open. He hadn’t gotten far, walking along the street with one hand in his pocket and folders under his other arm.

“Shouta,” you called out.

“Hmm?”

He stopped and turned to you, perhaps wondering if he’d left something behind.

“Tomorrow,” you said, “tomorrow is day one.”

He smirked.

You wanted your life to go back to normal and the rational part of you protested even as you took two steps back through your front door, dragging off his shirt. He hadn’t undressed much at all at Ego and for the first time you saw exactly how many scars cobwebbed his body. You wanted to run your fingers over them all, but he reached for your hands and lifted them above your head to pull off your shirt.

You dragged him closer, adding fuel to the flames. You’d never wanted anyone quite this much, running your lips over his jawline and throat.

You led him towards your bedroom, fiddling at your skirt zipper and kicking it to the floor. Fittingly enough, you were wearing the same bra as when you went to Ego, though that realisation lasted all of half a second as you ripped it off and threw it across the room.

You were wearing only your panties and a smile now, but it didn’t occur to you to be modest. Instead you crushed your lips against his and reached for his belt buckle, sighing at the feel of his chest against yours.

He lowered you onto the bed as if you were made of bone china before stepping out of the rest of his clothing. It was the first time you’d been exposed to a fully naked man in well over six months and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring.

He really did have scars everywhere, though your gaze drifted past that to the trail of hair beneath his belly button. He was already hard, and your mouth ran dry. If you hadn’t already had sex with him you would have been very daunted.

He reached down to grip his cock and you crawled up the bed, reaching into your bedside drawer and tossing him a condom. He tore the foil with his teeth and your insides turned to jelly; it was probably the most sinful thing you’d ever seen.

He put on the condom and got down onto his hands and knees, crawling towards you until you were able to stroke his face with an intimacy that didn’t cross your mind until much, much later. He grazed his lips over your cheek and you giggled as his stubble scraped your skin.

He lined his hips to yours and pushed in, so slowly that you thought you were going to die. You gasped, running your hands down his back and tracing every scar.

“Please,” you whispered, loud enough for only him to hear. “Please…”

At that he pushed himself in all of the way and you cried out as your bodies connected, digging your nails into his back and earning a moan from him in response.

He sat up and took hold of your bed frame, steadying his weight and giving you a dark smile before slamming his entire length into you.

“Oh...my g-“

You never got the chance to complete that particular train of thought, for he did it again and again until the bed rocked from the force of his body.

You knew you were being loud, but you didn’t care.

Tomorrow everything would be reset, as if you were perfect strangers. You finally understood why people got so desperate in movies about the apocalypse. This wasn’t remotely the end of the world, yet you dug your nails into his back in the hopes of never letting go.

You held onto him as the coil inside of you snapped and left you in free fall, frantically rubbing your clit in the hopes of loosening up even more. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and took you even deeper, though it still wasn’t deep enough. You wanted to lose track of where you ended and he began, though settled for the impact when his hips hit yours.

Just like the first time, he lost almost all of his rhythm as he grew close. You stroked your clit, chasing the shivers of pleasure running through you and making sure to catch his eye as he sucked in one breath and then another, losing himself in his own release as well as yours.

“Ahh, F…” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in a failed attempt at keeping his composure. He bit his bottom lip and gave a few more shallow thrusts, dragging out his orgasm for all it was worth.

He rested his forehead against yours the moment it was over, stealing several lazy kisses that you would have been only too happy to give away.

He pulled out of you and rolled over onto his back, gasping from the exertion even as he pulled off the condom and tied a knot in the middle before dropping it in the waste paper basket at the side of your bed.

“I’ll just...catch my breath…” he said, resting his head on the pillows. He closed his eyes, basking in the same happy afterglow that had so thoroughly overtaken you both.

You caught yourself reaching to stroke his hair, though stopped yourself just in time.

Before long, he was snoring softly and you glanced around your bedroom. It had been immaculate when you left that morning. Now, though, it was a mess of discarded clothes and heady with the smell of sex.

You glanced across at your bedside clock and took note of the time: 1:02 AM.

Well… you thought, glancing across at the man sleeping beside you. So much for Day One .

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #boku no hero academia #habanero

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grabthemhorns-old · 4 years

Note

Damn, I can't hide over here xD In any case, if you're still up for it, how about doing the alphabet for Beel and/or Belphie?

Smut Alphabet - Belphie

Here’s my one for Belphie :3 he’s my fav boi, so this is a bit spicy and my fav one.

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

- You’ve never been snuggled and cuddled as much after sex as with Belphie. He wraps himself around you like he’s afraid you’ll leave or let go. He nuzzles into your neck, peppering it with kisses, soft, sleepy moans tickling your neck before he quickly falls asleep, moulded against your body, the warmth of his breath rhythmic against your skin. He’s nearly always first to fall asleep, and you don’t mind, happy to watch him fall away in your arms with a smile that’s only for you.

If the sex has been particularly rough though, he’s attentive, gentle, making sure any hurts are kissed away, touched away, and embraced. It’s these times that you’re first to sleep. He watches you, making sure you’re absolutely okay afterwards.

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

- Belphie loves his Demon visage. His horns, his tail, his marks. He LOVES it when you touch any of them for any excuse.

Grab onto his horns while riding him; stroke them gently while he lazily gives you oral; pull his tail while you peg him; bite into where his demon birth marks are, making your own mark. He loves it because it reaffirms that you love his demon form too, and that you’re no longer afraid.

-He loves your thighs, he loves burying himself between your legs, with horns out and not, feeling warm and cosy, kissing, licking, drawing his claws lightly up and down the skin so lightly it tickles. He’ll happily tease you for so long between your thighs, his soft laugh rumbling against your skin.

But also...your neck. It’s fragile - a beacon of your mortality-, beautiful, a memory bad....that you both turn good. He loves the way he can feel and see your heartbeat against the skin; the way the skin feels thin beneath his lips, and the rumble of your voice, your moans as he touches you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- Usually, the lazy boy prefers to finish inside. And especially in your mouth. It just feels so good. But he has a particular preference for covering your face as messily as he can. He quite enjoys the favour being returned too.

Belphie will lazily clean up with his tongue if he’s in the mood.

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

- He wants to share you with Beel, aka, threesome.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- Belphie’s had plenty of experience. Maybe not as much as some of his brothers - his laziness taking over - but he knows what to do. Even with humans, since he used to visit the human realm a lot. But it’s been a while, and demon and human bodies need different treatment he’s soon reminded.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- Anything that’s incredibly intimate. Limbs tangled, looking at you, close enough to kiss. Probably side to side.

His other favourite is you on top, riding. So he can lay back and watch you in all your glory, his tail wrapped around you to steady you, his hands wandering as he pleases.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- Belphie is more serious during sex, as he’s come to claim it as a time to grow and build with you. If he is humorous, it’s darker humour during your more kinky sessions, with that low, slow laugh you’ve come to know and love.

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

- He trims himself mostly. He asks you what you prefer and does as such, happy to please you. There’s a white streak down there too, just like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- Lots of Belphie’s guilt and regret comes through initially during your sex, and it’s intense. He wants to make it up to you, showing you how sorry he is, how much he wants to repent and love you. It almost spills into absolute adoration at times, and although you enjoy it, you remind him that this relationship is both ways. You make sure there’s time for him too - to nurture the fragility of his heart and mind as you both heal together, your unexpected love the gold between the cracks.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- Being lazy, he doesn’t do it too often, but when you arrived the frequency did increase. He used to do it when you visited him in the attic behind the door, when he was manipulating you. He got off on it.

Then after it all, he didn’t do it for a while, the guilt weighing on him, but as he realised your smile for him was really real, he let himself jack off to the thought of you again, this time to just, kissing you, to holding you, to just wanting you.

He sometimes lazily jacks off in the morning if he wakes up before you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Choking and breath play. Belphie loves to use his tail to do so. And you both use it to make the bad memories of his hands around your neck, to good. It might take a while for you to trust him to do it - or you might crave it from the start - but however you do it, it’s one of his biggest kinks, and he loves that he can do it from lying on his back while you ride him too, as well as so up close he can feel the breaths he’s stealing away.

- TW: consensual somnophilia.

Another one he loves, is consensual somnophilia. He brings it up with you and you talk it through. He loves the idea of you sleeping and touching you, feeling you, waking you up with his mouth between your legs; with his fingers sticky. And he wants the same. He wants to be lazily woken with your lips around his cock, or pushed on his back, while you fumble on top, watching as his eyes slowly open, as his tail feels before his hands.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- Either of your beds. Cushion piles. The sofa. Soft spaces that Belphie loves to nap on are his favourite places to have sex.

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

- Touching and teasing. He loves it when you’re snuggled on the sofa or chair, or standing in the kitchen and being handsy, whispering against his ear. He loves it if the teasing lingers on for hours, or if it happens in places and moments that you both absolutely can’t do anything about it. If you tease him from afar, say in the RAD classroom, bending over, glancing from afar, crossing legs, showing off your neck, your thighs; sending dirty texts and nudes are a huge YES, and doing it throughout the day, as a long, long build up until you both see each other again into an explosion of fucking, is one of Belphie’s fav things.

-Dirty talk. Especially doing it in public places and situations like above.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- There is very, very little Belphie won’t do. He is up for a LOT.

A turn off is probably whips as it reminds him somewhat of Lucifer. But he can improvise.

He also has a thing about being restrained himself and anything that makes him too claustrophobic due to being locked up. He enjoys bondage on you, but on him not so much.

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

- Being a lazy boy, Belphie does a preference to receive, but when he gives, he gives good. He gives his all, for a long, long time, until you are absolutely spent. Part of it is from his favourite body part being your thighs, and he’s nestled comfortably right between them.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Slow and sensual is the default for Belphie. He loves to feel every movement and touch with you, taking in each curve and edge. Even when you’re both being kinky or rough, it’s often sensual and slow. You’d think it was just his laziness, the sloth of his mantle, but Belphie wants to etch every detail of you, to take in all of you now that he has you. He doesn’t want to forget a thing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Belphie doesn’t do many quickies. He’s much more a fan of the build up of teasing, tension, to later when you can both go to your bed, cushions or somewhere that’s yours, and spend as long as you want to fuck. Sometimes though, his impatience will win over and he’ll drag you away. He’s more a fan of oral quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- Yes! Belphie is into trying new things with you that you neither of you have tried. There’s quite a bit he’s done with previous Devildom partners that he’s keen on trying with you - but he’s a little nervous about your human body, especially remembering how easily he broke it before.

He’s often the one to suggest new - and kinky - things.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- Despite his mantle, Belphie can go as long as you need as as he wants during sex. Being a demon has its advantages. He will sleep even longer afterwards though to recover, and needs longer in-between each orgasm than others. He might not have the stamina to go and go and go, but he has it when it counts.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- Belphie owns lots of toys! He’s a big fan. If he’s feeling particularly tired or lazy, he enjoys that a toy can do the work for him, and vice versa. You understand, and indulge him in this, buying new and fun toys for you both that you can share and enjoy together. He particularly enjoys using them on you, and also watching you use them on yourself until he gets the energy to join in or take over.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- As we covered before, teasing is a BIG fav of Belphie. Between you both. The build up to sex is one of his favourite things and the teasing is a big part of that for Belphie. Also, having the upper hand in the teasing too is his favourite.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- Belphie is usually quiet. He has low, longing moans that he loves to sound into your ear or against your neck with a kiss. He likes to muffle himself that way, or into a pillow or just against you somehow. He loves to encourage you to be loud though, to hear just how good he’s making you feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- Belphie can cum solely from stimulating his horns when he’s really turned on, and sometimes the base of his tail.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- Demon cocks relate to their visage. They have scales? So does their cock.

Belphie’s birth mark spreads over his cock too, the black patches wrapping around the thick length with skin that is rougher than you’re used to. His tip is unique. It’s split, as if there’s two heads and it’s hella fun to suck, and the first time you felt it inside, it was wild. He didn’t feel self conscious about it when you first got together, as you hadn’t been the first non demon he’d been with, but he did warn you things would be...different.

He is also pierced. At the tip and once along the shaft. It's not his only body piercings, but you love how they feel in you and against your tongue.

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

- His sex drive is high, but his motivation can be low sometimes from his mantle of Sloth. Your teasing together often negates that though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- Belphie falls asleep VERY quickly after. He loves just sinking into your arms, feeling loved, satisfied, and whole. He’s so used to falling asleep, but this time it’s different. He’s needed, wanted, and trusted.

There are times though, when he stays awake, watching until you’re asleep, stroking your hair, listening to you breathe. There’s never really been a time when he didn’t want to sleep, but with you, he’d happily stay awake forever, watching, waiting, in love.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #obey me masters #belphegor #belphie #obey me belphie #belphie/mc #replies #ask desdi #v-witchd-2332

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marginalgloss · 3 years

Text

I turn 35 tomorrow. How better to celebrate that than with some notes on the handful of video games I have managed to finish over the last ten months. In no particular order:

Judgment (PS4)

Something I think about often is that there aren’t many games which are set in the real world. By this I man the world in which we live today. You can travel through ancient Egypt or take a trip through the stars in the far future, but it’s relatively rare to be shown a glimpse of something familiar. Hence the unexpected popularity of the new release of Microsoft Flight Simulator, which lets you fly over a virtual representation of your front porch, as well as the Grand Canyon, and so on.

I found something like the same appeal in Judgment, a game which took me longer than anything else listed here to finish — seven or eight months, on and off. Like the Yakuza games to which it is a cousin, it’s set in Kamurocho, a fictional district of a real-world Tokyo; unlike other open-world games, it renders a space of perhaps half a square mile in intense detail. I spent a long time in this game wandering around slowly in first-person view, looking at menus and in the windows of shops and restaurants. The attention to detail is unlike everything I have ever seen, from the style of an air conditioning unit to the range of Japanese whiskies on sale in a cosy backstreet bar. And this was a thing of value at a time when the thought of going anywhere else at all, let alone abroad, seemed like it was going to be very difficult for a very long time.

It’s a game of at least three discrete parts. One of them is a fairly cold-blooded police procedural/buddy cop story: you play an ex-lawyer turned private eye investigating a series of grisly murders that, inevitably, link back to your own murky past. In another part you run around the town getting into hilarious martial arts escapades, battering lowlifes with bicycles and street furniture. In another, you can while away your hours playing meticulous mini-games that include darts, baseball, poker, Mahjong and Shogi — and that’s before we even get to the video game arcades.

All these parts are really quite fun, and if you want to focus on one to the exclusion of the others, the game is totally fine with that. The sudden tonal shifts brought about by these crazy and abrupt shifts in format are, I think, essentially unique to video games. But the scope of Judgment is a thing all its own. As a crafted spectacle of escapist fiction it’s comprehensive, and in its own way utterly definitive.

Mafia: Definitive Edition (PS4)

I was amazed when I found out they were doing a complete remake of Mafia, a game I must have finished at least three or four times in the years after its release back in 2002. Games from this era don’t often receive the same treatment as something like Resident Evil, where players might be distracted by the controls and low-poly graphics of the original.

A quality remake makes it easier for all kinds of reasons to appreciate what was going on there. (Not least because they have a lot of new games in the same series to sell.) But in the early 00s PC games like this one had started to get really big and ambitious, and had (mostly) fixed issues with controls; so there’s a hell of a lot more stuff going on in Mafia than in most games of that era. It was also a very hard game, with all kinds of eccentricities that most big titles don’t attempt today. Really I have no idea how this remake got made at all.

But I was so fond of the original I had to play it. The obvious: it looks fantastic, and the orchestral soundtrack is warm and evocative. The story is basic, but for the era it seemed epic, and it’s still an entertaining spectacle. The original game got the balance of cinematic cutscenes, driving and action right the first time, even while Rockstar were still struggling to break out of the pastiche-led GTA III and Vice City.

They have made it easier. You’re still reliant on a handful of medical boxes in each level for healing, but you get a small amount of regenerating health as well. You no longer have to struggle to keep your AI companions alive. Most of the cars are still heavy and sluggish, but I feel like they’re not quite as slow as they once were. They’ve changed some missions, and made some systems a little more comfortable — with sneaking and combat indicators and so on — but there aren’t any really significant additions.

The end result of all this is that it plays less like an awkward 3D game from 2002, and more like a standard third-person shooter from the PS3/360 era. Next to virtually any other game in a similar genre from today, it feels a bit lacking. There’s no skill tree, no XP, no levelling-up, no crafting, no side-missions, no unusual weapons or equipment, no alternative routes through the game. And often all of that stuff is tedious to the extreme in new titles, but here, you really feel the absence of anything noteworthy in the way of systems.

My options might have been more limited in 2002 but back then the shooting and driving felt unique and fun enough that I could spend endless hours just romping around in Free Ride mode. Here, it felt flat by comparison; it felt not much different to Mafia III, which I couldn’t finish because of how baggy it felt and how poorly it played, in spite of it having one of the most interesting settings of any game in recent years. But games have come a long way in twenty years.

Hypnospace Outlaw (Nintendo Switch)

If this game is basically a single joke worked until it almost snaps then it is worked extremely well.

It seems to set itself up for an obvious riff on the way in which elements of the web which used to be considered obnoxious malware (intrusive popups and so on) have since become commonplace, and sometimes indispensable, parts of the online browsing experience. But it doesn’t really do that, and I think that’s because it’s a game which ends up becoming a little too fascinated by its own lore.

The extra science fiction patina over everything is that technically this isn’t the internet but a sort of psychic metaverse delivered over via a mid-90s technology involving a direct-to-brain headset link. I don’t know that this adds very much to the game, since the early days of the internet were strange enough without actually threatening to melt the brains of its users.

(This goes back to what I said about Judgment - I sometimes wonder if it feels easier to make a game within a complete fiction like this, rather than simply placing it in the context of the nascent internet as it really was. Because this way you don’t have to worry too much about authenticity or realism; this way the game can be as outlandish as it needs to be.)

But, you know. It’s a fun conceit. A clever little world to romp around in for a while.

Horace (Nintendo Switch)

I don’t know quite where to begin with describing this. One of the oddest, most idiosyncratic games I’ve played in recent years.

As I understand it this platformer is basically the creation of two people, and took about six years to make. You start out thinking this is going to be a relatively straightforward retro run-and-jump game — and for a while, it is — but then the cutscenes start coming. And they keep coming. You do a lot of watching relative to playing in this game, but it’s forgivable because they are deeply, endearingly odd.

It’s probably one of the most British games I’ve ever played in terms of the density and quality of its cultural references. And that goes for playing as well as watching; there’s a dream sequence which plays out like Space Harrier and driving sequences that play out like Outrun. There are references to everything from 2001 to the My Dinner with Abed episode of Community. And it never leans into any of it with a ‘remember that?’ knowing nod — it’s all just happening in the background, littered like so much cultural detritus.

A lot of it feels like something that’s laser-targeted to appeal to a certain kind of gamer in their mid-40s. And, not being quite there myself, a lot of it passed me by. Horace is not especially interested in a mass appeal — it’s not interested in explaining itself, and it doesn’t care if you don’t like the sudden shifts in tone between heartfelt sincerity and straight-faced silliness. But as a work of singular creativity and ambition it’s simply a joyous riot.

Horizon: Zero Dawn (PS4)

I stopped playing this after perhaps twelve or fifteen hours. There is a lot to like about it; it still looks stunning on the PS4 Pro; Aloy is endearing; the world is beautiful to plod around. But other parts of it seem downright quaint. It isn’t really sure whether it should be a RPG or an action game. And I’m surprised I’ve never heard anyone else mention the game’s peculiar dedication to maintaining a shot/reverse shot style throughout dialogue sequences, which is never more than tedious and stagey.

The combat isn’t particularly fun. Once discovered most enemies simply become enraged and blunder towards you, in some way or another; your job is to evade them, ensnare them or otherwise trip them up, then either pummel them into submission or chip away at their armour till they become weak enough to fall. I know enemy AI hasn’t come on in leaps and bounds in recent years but it’s not enough to dress up your enemies as robot dinosaurs and then expect a player to feel impressed when they feel like the simplest kind of enrageable automata. Oh, and then you have to fight human enemies too, which feels like either an admission of failure or an insistence that a game of this scale couldn’t happen without including some level of human murder.

I don’t have a great deal more to say about it. It’s interesting to me that Death Stranding, which was built on the same Decima engine, kept the frantic and haphazard combat style from Horizon, but went to great lengths to actively discourage players from getting into fights at all. (It also fixed the other big flaw in Horizon — the flat, inflexible traversal system — and turned that into the centrepiece of the game.)

Disco Elysium (PS4)

In 2019 I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons. I’m talking about the actual tabletop roleplaying game, not any kind of video game equivalent. For week after week a group of us from work got together and sort of figured it out, and eventually developed not one but two sprawling campaigns of the never-ending sort. We continued for a while throughout the 2020 lockdown, holding our sessions online via Roll20, but it was never quite the same. After a while, as our life circumstances changed further, it sort of just petered out.

I mention all this because Disco Elysium is quite clearly based around the concept of a computerised tabletop roleplaying game (aka CRPG). My experience of that genre is limited to the likes of Baldurs Gate, the first Pillars of Eternity and the old Fallout games, so I was expecting to have to contend with combat and inventory management. What I wasn’t expecting was to be confronted with the best novel I’ve read this year.

To clarify: I have not read many other novels this year, by my standards. But, declarations of relative quality aside, what I really mean is that this game is, clearly and self-consciously, a literary artefact above all. It is written in the style of one of those monolithic nineteenth century novels that cuts a tranche through a society, a whole world — you could show it to any novelist from at least the past hundred years and they would understand pretty well what is going on. It is also wordy in every sense of that term: there’s a lot of reading to do, and the text is prolix in the extreme.

You could argue it’s less a game than a very large and fairly sophisticated piece of interactive fiction. The most game-like aspects of it are not especially interesting. It has some of the stats and the dice-rolling from table-top roleplaying games, but this doesn’t sit comfortably with the overtly literary style elsewhere. Health and morale points mostly become meaningless when you can instantly heal at any time and easily stockpile the equivalent of health potions. And late on in the game, when you find yourself frantically changing clothes in order to increase your chances of passing some tricky dice roll, the systems behind the game start to feel somewhat disposable.

Disco Elysium is, I think, a game that is basically indifferent to its own status as a game. Nothing about it exists to complement its technological limitations, and nor is it especially interested in the type of unique possibilities that are only available in games. You couldn’t experience Quake or Civilisation or the latest FIFA in any other format; but a version of Disco Elysium could have existed on more or less any home computer in about the last thirty years. And, if we were to lose the elegant art and beautiful score, and add an incredibly capable human DM, it could certainly be played out as an old-fashioned tabletop game not a million miles from Dungeons and Dragons.

All of the above is one of the overriding thoughts I have about this game. But it doesn’t come close to explaining what it is that makes Disco Elysium great.

#gaming #judgment #horace #disco elysium #horizon zero dawn #hypnospace outlaw

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tsaritsa · 4 years

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check my time

firstly; ever write something and be like. oh damn. i wrote that bitch? that's me rn

secondly, this title is taken from rebecca black's friday. shenanigans were had in the royai support group discord in which we were determined to title some fics with that immortal song. come hang with us! it's pretty fun and we only occasionally have so-bad-it's-good ideas like this.

you can also read this over on ao3

It is perhaps, unsurprising, that Major Mustang initially believes that it was because of him that she signed up for service. His idyllicism is perhaps the most enduring trait she has to remember him by: a young man, proudly wearing his blues and speaking of the way he would coax the country in a better, grander, position than where it started. His inherent paternalism – and it is that, he wants to make the country into his image and nothing less – is inherited from her own father. He too, believed, understood, proved that he knew the way forward.

It is a bit of a joke now how personally he seems to take this new knowledge – this was not part of his plan. Perhaps he thought he would return after the war, a decorated hero with new depths to those dark eyes and sweep her off her feet like so many of her dorm sisters have been in recent years. What few letters that do make their way to the estate – and subsequently, months later to the front – are notices of marriage, and once, an invitation to attend herself. Laura had been one of the kinder girls, and a small part of Riza that’s been tucked away between the notches on her rifle would’ve liked to see her in white, watched the celebration with a distance that Laura wouldn’t have questioned or assumed was rude.

But Riza is unable to entertain such fantasies. This country would rather look the other way than acknowledge the cost of this war, the amount of people being flung into the sand just to keep the effort justifiable. There are rumours that another train line has been taken out, and necessary supplies that were already months late will now never arrive. It’s a wonder any letters managed to find their way to her at all.

Major Mustang has a peculiar habit of finding her no matter where she is in the encampment. At first, she pegs it down to coincidence, but later it becomes clearer that he is seeking her out in some fashion, even if most times he refuses to engage with her at all. Perhaps he thinks he can protect her in this way, a careful eye watching from a distance. It is laughable. The distance Riza is able to set between herself and any unwanted target easily outstrips his distance for accuracy. She can and will limit her damage. He razes through it all as if the end result is the only thing that matters. Perhaps that’s true. The reality of bending a land, a people, to your will is never as simple as her superiors make it out to be.

Part of her resents this treatment, resents the hovering that the others in her unit have picked up on. They’re snipers, after all. They’re meant to look at the wider picture, notice small, subtle shifts in the landscape. It takes them a little longer to deduce who he’s trying to shadow, but after another few days of watching him not-wander with not-purpose, her spotter nudges her, faintly tilting his head towards 11 o’clock.

“Perhaps he’s never seen a woman with short hair before. I hear he came from Central – fuckwits, the lot of them.”

Her spotter, Dylan, is a stout young man, with a face that had not lost the fat of his youth until very recently. He, like her, was pushed through quickly, at the pleading of higher-ups who were wholly unprepared for their theatres of war. The two of them are well aware of the incompetence that has resulted in their posting. This knowledge is what protects them more than the briefings they receive.

A tense smile pulls at the edges of her lips. “I have the unfortunate pleasure of being acquainted with him. I would hesitate to paint him with the same brush as the soldiers from the last tour though.”

Dylan scoffs, picking at the cervidae meat the cooks managed to scrounge up. It’s probably a sacred animal in these parts. “Does he think you don’t belong here?”

Riza hums. “I think he envisioned a different future for me. I think I’ve ruined the fantasy.”

The man introduced to her briefly as Maes Hughes seeks her out some weeks later. He is an interesting man. Riza thinks he is like the prisms that fracted light in her Father’s study: she spies different fragments of him, personalities and idiosyncrasies that layer over one another if you view him just so. He is canny and shrewd, and Riza is not surprised that Major Mustang has made his acquaintance. His ability to seek out power and bend it to suit his whims is perhaps the most crucial thing to understand about him. It does not necessarily matter what the substance of the power is, it only matters in how he can exploit it for his personal use.

“Hawkeye,” Maes Hughes says shortly, deliberately stepping into pace with her as she moves through the camp. She had been seeking some rest. She knows now that that will be difficult to do unless she plays his game.

“Captain Hughes,” she responds, dipping her head in acknowledgment. It is perhaps a little ruder for a greeting than other superiors would allow, but Riza surmises that Maes Hughes doesn’t care much for inane rules and pageantry out here. He is not thriving in this environment, merely surviving like her.

“This isn’t about Roy,” he begins, and Riza appreciates the bluntness. “Well, not from him. But I thought we could talk.”

Riza inclines her head to the outer encampment, the side that overlooks into the valley. It’s never as busy here, particularly in the afternoon as the sun sinks down over the mountains and the desert chill begins to set in. “What about?” She will make him work for this conversation. She is well aware of who could – would – be privy to it.

Hughes is quiet for a moment as he leans against one of the tent poles. “I confess I’m curious about the two of you. Roy is fiercely protective of you. Others are beginning to notice.”

“He’s stubborn like that.”

“Is there a reasonable explanation for his behaviour?”

Part of Riza thinks it would be rather funny to divulge her secrets again. Make his power and devastation inert by granting everyone the same ability that he wields so selfishly, covets even more so. But it’s a passing fancy, a fantasy she’ll never get to fully realise, much like the goals she imagines he had in place for her. Hughes has already played some of his cards by investigating what he’s already identified to be Mustang’s weakest link, and Riza feels it’s only fair to work within the estimation he has already formed of her. She will never let her back be used against her again. Major Mustang put paid to that lesson for her.

“His alchemy apprenticeship was a few houses down from where I lived. There weren’t many young people in the village. We were… acquaintances, I suppose,” she begins, testing the words on her tongue. Dylan hadn’t needed a story to assess Major Mustang. He didn’t need to be convinced of anything he couldn’t already surmise from looking at him.

“Perhaps he was sweet on me; I confess I never paid much attention, as my father was a sick man and required almost all of my attention. It was strange to realise that one of the soldiers I saved was someone I knew –” the parapraxis isn’t lost on her but Hughes’ face is impassive, waiting. Either he was a good listener or what he was suspicious of had not been confirmed so far. “ – Maybe it is strange for him too,” she concludes, rubbing the muscle that connects her thumb to the fleshy part of her palm.

Hughes appears to mull over her words. “He must be very sweet on you, then.” There’s a warning nestled in that sentence, an acknowledgment that he caught her use of tense just as he corrects her on which is the truth – what he knows is the truth.

Riza rolls her shoulders slowly. “I wouldn’t assume to know his feelings on the matter. He hasn’t talked to me since our last meeting. In all honesty, Captain, I don’t think there is much to talk about either. We’re just ghosts in each other’s pasts.”

“He doesn’t treat you like a ghost.”

“My spotter has come to calling him that. He always seems to lingering like some forgotten shade.”

Hughes pushes himself off the tent pole he was leaning against, shoving his hands into his pockets. Riza was right, he is a clever man – knows better than to needle someone continually for information they’re not willing to part with yet. His patience would undoubtedly be tempering some of Major Mustang’s worst impulses. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t approached her again.

“I just felt warning you would be the right thing to do,” he says. “Considering I’m now not alone in my understandings.”

Riza blinks slowly. “Thank you for the warning, Captain Hughes,” she replies. He probably thinks he’s being kind, extending a hand to the young ingénue who’s out of her depth in a horror that’s only halfway done. Maybe Major Mustang had crafted that story for Hughes as well; of his role in this story he still seems to be writing. He is the hero. They are the supporting cast as much as the sand they stand on.

I thought you’d wait for me; he had hissed over the campfire at their first meeting.

I thought you’d help people; she had taunted as the embers sunk into the ash.

#fullmetal alchemist #royai #riza hawkeye #maes hughes #fma #my fanfic #been a while so why not just sink my teeth into my fav hobby #aka riza murking the fuck outta roy's character

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wandas-sunshine · 5 years

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Wandering Eyes

Summary: One of Stark Industries Charity Galas is drawing on too long, and (Y/N) can’t help her wandering eyes. Lucky for her, neither can Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ SMUT

Word Count: 2405

A/N: This is my first ever attempt at smut so please please please go easy on me! I’d love some feedback as well if I could get it. Enjoy!

This was most definitely not how (Y/N) had expected her night to go. Most of Stark’s parties were fun. If nothing else, they were a good excuse to drink and maybe to get laid. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a good sexual encounter. But now she was leaning against a wall in her shimmering dark blue gown, cursing whoever had decided that this particular event would have no hard alcohol. They must have wanted her to suffer.

She sipped her champagne and eyed the room curiously. She’d seen most every person that had shown up to the charity event at least once before. Pepper had put everything together and, truth be told, it was beautiful. The lights were dimmed and the room had taken on a lovely blue glow. (Y/N)’s presence had gone unnoticed by most everyone with the exception of her close friends. Not that she minded, these uptight gala type events weren’t her scene. She’d much rather be playing drinking games with the other Avengers like they did at their usual gatherings.

“Having fun yet?” A voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned her head. A smile lifted onto her lips at the sight of Bucky lounging beside her. He looked good, fitted in a three piece suit that only made him look bigger and more handsome than he usually did. His hair was brushed back into a neat ponytail that sort of suited him. She couldn’t control the way her eyes scanned over him ever so slowly, committing every detail to memory.

“Sorry, what?” She asked, her gaze snapping back up to his. She brought her drink back up to her lips in an attempt to hide how flustered she’d become. Bucky gave a chuckle that made her heart hammer in her chest. She’d always had a bit of a thing for him, but how could she not? He was powerful. Easily one of the strongest men she’d ever met, yet his demeanor tended to be so gentle. He was charming, that’s one thing he hadn’t lost over the years.

“I asked if you were enjoying yourself.” Bucky repeated himself, taking a drink from his own glass. (Y/N) scoffed.

“I am definitely having a great time. Isn’t it obvious?” She teased and Bucky smirked, that smirk that absolutely stirred up her insides every time. She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. Needed to stop thinking so much about his hands on her ass or his mouth on her skin. She blinked a few times and looked up at him.

“Where’s your mind at, doll?” He asked. For a moment she wondered if Bucky could read her mind because he definitely looked like he knew exactly what she was fantasizing about.

“What do you mean? I’m here.” She said. She was lying through her damn teeth. Her mind was in her room being worked up by Bucky’s touch. She shifted a little and took a drink, desperate for this party to be over so she could escape and take care of herself.

What Bucky did next made her breath catch in her throat. He nudged closer, leaning against the wall and dipping his head dangerously close to her ear.

“Don’t lie to me, doll. You’re looking at me like you want me to take you right here.” His glass was delicately balanced in his right hand, the metal one had trailed to rest against (Y/N)’s waist. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second before flicking back up to meet his. His blue eyes were dark now with lust, with a longing he’d been hiding far too long. “All you gotta do is ask and I’ll get us out of here.” He promised, his lips brushing against her ear. And in an instant, (Y/N) decided that this was going to be the best night of her life.

“Get me out of here, Barnes.” She commanded breathlessly. Bucky took her glass, swiftly placing them on the tray of a passing waiter. His flesh hand snaked to rest just above her ass, guiding her confidently towards the exit. Nobody paid any mind as the two made their escape to a separate part of Stark’s mansion. They’d stayed the night before, they knew where the guest rooms were, and with any luck one would be unoccupied.

However they didn’t quite make it that far before Bucky had her back pinned to the wall. He dipped his head, latching his lips onto hers and pressing himself snug against her front. She clung to him, her hands finding the hair tie holding his hair back and tugging it out so her fingers could run through it freely. Buck let out a soft growl against her lips, trailing down to suck adamantly at a spot on her neck. (Y/N) couldn’t have been more grateful for the wall and Bucky’s firm grip on her hips as her knees tried to give way under her.

“You don’t have any idea what you do to me, do you?” He mumbled against her skin and she shook her head. “Everything you do is so sexy. And when you come to train in those little shorts, showing off all that skin.” He ran his hand up to tug at the zipper at the back of her gown. She reluctantly nudged him back.

“Not in the hall, Buck. We’ll get caught.” She giggled anyway, pulling him in for another long kiss. He pulled away again, taking her hand in his and pulling her to the first door. He didn’t bother checking, just opened the door and pulled her inside. The door was kicked closed and (Y/N) quickly turned the lock.

“Where were we?” Bucky asked with that smirk on his lips, that damned smirk. He stepped forward and kissed her like nothing else in the world mattered. And to him, it didn’t. He’d been waiting for her for so long and now she was there before him looking like some sort of goddess. He pulled away, taking a moment to look her over—he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t—then pulling at the zipper on her dress. She kicked off her heels and tipped her head up to look at Buck once more.

“I saw you walk in, and saw all those men looking at you like a piece of meat. You look so damn delicious in that dress. Been wanting to take it off you all night.” He said, pushing the straps off her shoulders. She let the dress fall to the floor, left just in a pair of lacy panties. She could swear she saw Bucky melt.

He pulled her in and she stepped out of the dress, pressing closer to him. He easily turned her and with a push she fell back onto the bed. Bucky was quick to settle between her legs, nudging them apart and running his hands up her thighs. The warm, calloused flesh was a stark contrast to the cool, smooth metal and she couldn’t keep herself from squirming.

“Be still, baby.” He warned. His voice had dropped to a low vibration. He leaned down, carefully pressing kisses up on her legs to the apex of her thighs, then down the other one. She whined, growing frustrated with his teasing. “I’ve waited too long to worship you the way you deserve.”

(Y/N)’s stomach did a flip at that, squirming a little but not struggling to get his touch. She was already drenched just from the thought of him. He moved painfully slow, trailing his hands over her body, feeling her in a way that nobody else had ever bothered to do before. She was already breathless when his hands cupped her breasts gently. Her back arched and Bucky smirked once again. His fingers worked the flesh gently, kneading them and tugging lightly at her nipples until they’d fully hardened under his touch.

“Buck, please. I need more.” She huffed. In response, Bucky lowered his head, nibbling and sucking slowly at her left nipple, his hand still working the other. She tipped her head back and a long whine tugged from her throat. She ran her fingers through his hair and he made a noise that she would do anything to hear again.

He took his time, drawing the softest sounds from her lips before switching sides and giving her other breast the same treatment. But finally, she’d had enough waiting. Her fingers worked quickly, pushing his suit jacket off and discarding it, then working down the buttons of the shirt underneath. Bucky shrugged the garment off, letting it fall aside. (Y/N)’s hands wasted no time, tracing over toned muscle and taught skin. When they reached the waistband of his pants, Bucky nudged them aside.

He made quick work of his belt buckle and his pants, wiggling out of them and pushing his boxer briefs with them and leaving him exposed for her. (Y/N) took him in slowly. If she had thought he was perfect before, she was convinced he was a god now. Every inch of him could’ve been carved from marble. It took everything in her not to stare at his half-hard member. It was already bigger than most that she was used to. He hooked his arms under her legs while she was distracted. She began to question his actions, but he tugged her to the edge of the bed and kneeled in front of her.

He tugged the lace down her hips, barely keeping himself from ripping them off of her all together. And there she was, splayed out right before him like the most incredible buffet. And who was he to turn it down?

He nudged her thighs open as far as they’d go, immediately licking a strip up her glistening core. She inhaled sharply, propping herself up on her elbow and watching him. This was a scene right out of one of her wet dreams.

Bucky was living his dream, eating her like she was his last meal. Two of the fingers on his flesh hand teased at her entrance, rubbing circles and slipping in just a little every now and then, earning squeals and pleas from her. Finally he gave in, singing two fingers deep inside her and pumping them slowly.

“How’s that, doll?” He asked, listening to her mewls. As he slowed down his pace to a near stop, she bucked her hips only to have his metal arm force them back down. “I’m making the rules tonight, beautiful. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you feel good.” He promised, peppering her thighs with kisses before diving in once again to suck and lap at her clit. Every curl of his fingers or particularly drew the prettiest sounds from her lips until he was moaning against her pussy just at the thought of what his cock could work out of her. “Bucky, please. Please, I’m so clo-ose.” Her words came out as pants, near whimpers as she grasped at him. Her fingers curled once more into his hair, tugging less than gently. He let out a sharp moan, fucking his fingers into her faster and grumbling an aroused ‘fuck’ at the feeling.

(Y/N) was writhing there, held tightly in place and three fingers now working steadily into her until she was shaking completely, squealing his name and releasing around his fingers. Bucky lifted his eyes, watching her closely as she basked in the pleasure. His fingers never stopped their work, helping her ride out her high. He finally pulled them out, popping them into his mouth and sucking them clean. (Y/N) groaned softly.

“There’s no need for you to be that hot.” She whined and giggled a little. He laughed, straightening up and carefully readjusting her body on the bed.

“Think you’re ready for me?” He asked with a cocky smirk. She rolled her eyes and nodded, hoping it wasn’t too obvious just how badly she wanted to take him. He reached between them, giving his already painfully hard length a few strokes before lining it up with her soaked lips.

She hooked a leg around his hips and he pushed in. Her jaw dropped open and she hissed at the stretch. He was big, particularly thick, but the stretch felt better than anything else she’d ever felt.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” He practically purred, his chin dropping to his chest as he bottomed out in her. She needily tugged him down until his lips met hers and kissed him like her life depended on it. Their lips found a rhythm and his hips shifted, drawing out before pushing hard back in. She gasped and moaned against his lips. As their pace was set and his hips snapped steadily against hers, their kiss became sloppy, clashing teeth and nibbled lips. Neither one of them dared to separate, relying completely on feeling one another.

Bucky propped himself up on his metal arm, snaking the other around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. He grunted lowly, burying his face in her shoulder. Her legs were squeezing tight around his hips, the coil in her stomach tightening almost unbearably tight. She nearly didn’t manage to warn him before it snapped.

“Buck-y,” The end of his name turned into a shaky squeal as she came around his length, her vision going white and her ears practically ringing as he fucked her through it once more.

“Doing so good, doll. I’m so close, (Y/N).” He praised. He gripped at her hips, snapping into her even harder, but his hips began to stutter, his pace getting thrown off before he felt his own release. He let out a deep moan that nearly sounded like a growl, holding her close.

The two of the stayed that way, holding each other and breathless, glistening with sweat. After what could’ve been hours, Bucky slid out of her, rolling to her side and gently tugging her to lay on top of him. She nestled closer, closing her eyes and reveling in the feeling of his protective hold.

“You know...I think I owe you a date after all of that.” A laugh bubbled from him, more genuine than his laughter typically was with others. (Y/N) giggled almost weakly but looked up at him.

“I might just have to take you up on that.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #reader insert #avengers #avengers imagine #smut #imagine #fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

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No Moving

Kanene’s note: One year ago I threw a surprise party (very small and cozy) in my house and, after some hours, one of mah friends suggested we played some old games from our childhood and I remember my first thought was “Hey, no. We’re not children anymore.” but I said nothing because that sounded a lot like what society would want me to say. We played. And that was one of the best days I’ve ever had. Good enough to give me inspiration for this fanfic. With a lot of chaos and dorky sides and chaos and tickles!!! So I'm giving this to myself as a gift, because, ya know... S e r o t o n i n! Soooo, the lesson? Idk. Be feral, do chaos, play and f**k the society, I guess. Happy day for us all!!! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Ler!Roman and Ler!Virgil with Lee!Logan and Lee!Patton. Around 3.700 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Eu vou traduzir ainda ;w;. Thank you so so so much for being with me through all this crazy and difficult year. It’s been a bless to have all of you in my notes, my askys, and my notifications! Take care of yourself, lollipop, you deserve. <33

[~*~]

It was a sunny day. The heat from the biggest star of our solar system being placated by a relaxing wind incessantly throwing the napkins from the so careful, yet messy – as if this wasn’t a tradition the quartet repeated affectionately every single year – decorated table. The friends positioned themselves around it. The surprise party’s rush being already over after all their screaming, singing, eating and bickering, leaving the four to lazily chat or stare the breeze carrying lonely flowers around Virgil’s – the one who offered his house as a sacrifice to the chaos - yard, making them float in the air for some seconds before forgetting them on the dirt again.

Virgil snored softly from the spot he conquered on the tabletop, taking a peaceful nap. Patton was saying, in the fastest pattern he could muster, all the dad jokes his brain managed to think only to see how much time Logan would continue to give him the silent treatment before finally – and figuratively, the owner of the only brain cell of their group would say if he heard this narrative, - exploded and Roman?

Well, Roman was bored.

“I HAVE AN IDEA!!”

Then he slammed his hands on the top of the wooden object, successfully scaring Virgil out of it and of his sleeping – leading the poor adult to fall. Not before kicking a cup in Roman’s direction, his moves being weakened enough by his fogged brain so he missed it and hit Roman’s carefully manicured hands, instead, – at the same Patton, by reflex, slapped the two poor persons who had the bad luck of sitting next to him. He gathered the perfect timing to interrupt Logan’s scared jump by his confused ‘Why did- why- Why did you hit ME?’ sputtering.

“Ow.” The one in red shirt held protectively his arm and hand next to his chest, protesting with his usual offended noises as analyzed the light red spots on them and purposely ignored the ‘What the FUCK, Princey??’ shouted by the host. “Ow. O-w. Are you guys seriously going to hit me every time I try to make your poor lifes better, your barbarians? You know what? I am offended. Your peasants. I am going to get my dear Amanda the katana and then I am- I am out.”

Logan deadpanned in his direction, lifting one of his eyebrows in his disbelief expression as the other didn’t give a single step to the exit. He did his best to maintain the façade as Patton fuzzed over him, hugging and apologizing and hugging and softly petting his head and offering cake before gasping and turning around to fuzz now over Roman. “… Okay. I am taking Patton with me.”

“Over my dead, haunted body.” Virgil quickly proclaimed before his tune got slurred, very much likely still sleepy. “I saw…” He balanced his hands in front of him, eyes wide and hair spiked, very much reminding of a scared cat. “I saw the angel of death, in all his tall dark, cold aura. In front of me. He was right before me, full of-” He moved his hands more, as if that compensated for his lack of words. “Emo.”

“…Thanatos?” Logan pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That guy.” Virgil came back to his initial position laying down on the cold surface, yawing. “Totally emo.”

“Actually, when he was created-”

“Excuse me. Focus, focus!” The one who initiated the commotion snapped his fingers until all the eyes were fixated on him, glares traveling from interested to unimpressed. “My brilliant idea? That will light up this party and hearts? Drum the drums!” Silence. He turned to Patton, who was staring at a cute butterfly mindless flying around. “Patton! The drums!” The one wearing black rims seemed to come back to reality, drumming his fingers on the table. “Very well!” Roman spun, extending the suspense. Logan came back to scrolling on his phone, Virgil getting closer to take a look, both hiding a smirk when heard the pout in Roman’s tune. “You’re all jerks and boring. Let’s play S.T.O.P!”

That caught their attention.

“Roman, you are…” Logan talked slowly, as if trying to make his words as clear as possible, “aware that we’re adults now, right?”

“Aw, come on, guys!” Patton jolted upright. “Sounds fun! And I think Virgil’s yard is bigger enough to make it even better than when we played in middle school!”

“Exactly! And it was one of your favorites games when you were younger, remember, Specs? I think it’s a good way to celebrate that special date which is your birthday!” Logan scoffed at that, albeit his mind was somewhere else.

Roman wasn’t wrong, he really used to love this game, especially because he was good at it. His love for sports was often ignored by most of his classmates because of his good grades – Logan never understood why one thing would exclude other – therefore he was constantly forgotten in the team or even underestimated. Two things extremely crucial in a game like this. Roman noticed his contemplating face. “I mean, except you are afraid of losing. Again.”

“I did not lose! Kyle fell on me and he was the only one supposed to be out and not both of us and you. Know. It!”

“No, no, no! Claire said you were the one who tripped on your way and then YOU fell on Kyle-”

“That is nonsense! If Claire had stopped just one second her Dance of Victory, she would be able to see that, by the angle we both were on the ground there was no way I would be able to-”

“Oh, plu-e-ase. You are just a sore los-”

“What is this game?” Virgil questioned Patton, both letting the bickering fall on the background, who smiled widely, his gaze unfocusing a bit, probably watching some old memories of his childhood.

“It is a very simple but fun game!! One person stays next to a wall and, oh! We call him the Looker by the way! Or even some large thing and the others players stay the most away from him as possible. The person next to the wall has to count until a certain number of his choice and while he is counting everyone is free to wander around the place until he turns around, then every player has to freeze on the same spot and position they were. If you move and the Looker catches you, you’re out. You win if you touch the wall where he was. You can do everything you want as long the Looker is not staring at you.

“There was that one kid who managed to win the game by climbing a tree until he was close enough to jump from it and run to the wall before the Looker shouted he was out.” The one wearing two party hats as ‘cat hears’ stopped to breath. “Ah! Ah! Also! If you’re out you can choose to just watch the game or become the Looker’s partner and try to help him. Roman and Logan used to be the worst ever when together.” He giggled, sounding a bit hysteric.

“Hm. I think they used to call this ‘10 Seconds’ in my school, since you could count only further than 10 seconds.” Virgil then frowned. “Wait, why were they the worst?”

“Uhh, so, you see, the Lookers can use some… attics to try to make you move. Logan and Roman usually choose to-”

“I do NOT wish to participate.” Logan stated, crossing his arms stubbornly. Roman sighed.

“Well, you do you.” Roman then traveled his glare to the others two. “Are you guys coming? I’m the Looker.”

“I’m in!!” Patton excitedly got up, joggling his way to the yard, casting a slightly worried look at Logan, who was adjusting his chair in order to have a better view of the game. Virgil shrugged, taking off his hoodie and following them, quickly throwing a ‘You ok?’ as he passed next to the most professional of the group.

“Yes.” He deeply breathed, sounding calmer. “Yes, I am.” And then give him a bite of a smile.

Roman positioned himself before the colorful three foot tall concrete tunnel forgotten there by the last owner, barely catching with the corner of his field view his two friends whispering something to each other, the one wearing two party hats snickering behind his hand, bouncing as also choose a good position far away from him, who tried to not think much about what he just presented. A suspicious feeling crawled the back of his neck.

“Go.” Logan pronounced.

“Oneeeee, twooo, three, fourfivesixseveneight,” Roman turned away from them, counting in a tune just above a whisper. Patton and Virgil exchanged glances.

When he got at twenty, he turned.

Only to find Virgil laid on the grass, his arm extended to point something in the sky, Patton crouched by his side, his face firm in a puzzled expression staring in the same direction, hand above his eyes to block the Sun. Roman frowned in confusion, the curiosity tickling the back of his brain until he succumbed to it, also looking at the sky to - surprise, surprise! – find absolutely nothing!

By the time he stared at them again Patton now was in front of Virgil, both making what seemed like a very horrible parody of The Creation of Adam painting. Roman got closer, managing to clearly see the smug smile on Virgil’s face and Patton wobbly lips, very much likely holding laughter. He crossed his arms, staying stubbornly for some seconds before giving up, seeing that none of them moved a single millimeter.

“You two are so funny.” Roman rolled his eyes, sarcasm dropping from each word. Logan snorted.

This time the Looker counted at only fifteen seconds.

This time Patton was in Virgil’s arms when he turned, one leg suspended dramatically in the air. The third time Roman growled loudly as Virgil was on one knee, pretending to propose to Patton who was frozen in the middle of his faint. In the fourth he didn’t even have the chance to turn before two hands tased his sides, making his knees buckle but being held in the same place when a pair of arms that hugged him from behind, capturing the poor adult in a flow of high-pitched squeaks and surprised laughter at each squeeze and spidering deposited just above his hips.

Some minutes later soft snorts followed him to the ground when he was finally freed, flames running on his face and his arms firmly pressed at his sides, the ghost tickles leading to a sea of giggles dancing in the air.

“Enough.” Logan cut the moment, all the eyes on him when he got up, stretching and loosening his party tie. The Looker recomposed himself in order to sneak pokes and squeezes on the other two, who quickly dashed their way back to the yard. “You both clearly aren’t taking this seriously enough.” A dangerous gleam took over his eyes, staring intently to Roman, who instantly got the same kind of shine in his own glare, nodding in his direction. Both too much preoccupied to notice Virgil and Patton silently high fiving in the distance.

The game started again, now a very different electricity dancing in the air. Logan sensed an old feeling of nostalgia resting on his back as he analyzed the place and his opponents as things went by. Roman turned for at least three times – the perfect number for things to get really interesting, - before he decided to finally move from his place.

Silent steps, he went right to Patton. Logan breathed in relief, taking the opportunity to adjust his strategic position half behind the tree. Patton kept a pattern of switching from moving too fast in a round and then barely taking a step in the other, however, as Roman stopped before him, and for the way he soundless snickered as The Looker changed his target to Virgil, his weakness was still holding his laughter when stared for long periods of time.

Virgil was sitting on the grass. Again. A very good tactic when you tend to fidget or tremble a lot. He would stay in the same position for some rounds until in an explosion of energy dash forward when Roman wasn’t paying attention. The Looker crouched in front of him, his index finger pointing and almost touching his nose.

“You. I don’t trust you.”

And then there was Logan.

“You,” Roman stared in distance – not because of fear pffff of course not - Logan’s form half hidden by the foliage and trunk of the medium tree, his glass making his eyes gleam in a light even more enhanced due the shadow provided by the plant, the rest of his face being partially hidden because of his bangs falling on his features. “are fucking creepy. Stop.”

In the next round Patton gave everyone a heart attack when he screamed since he didn’t heard/saw Logan approaching his spot. Two more rounds. Virgil sneezed and lost his balance in a not very ideal mid-run position. Out.

“Oh, thank gracious, great goodness!! Come here, Knight Mare!! I have an idea!!” Virgil barely had time to stop swearing for losing before being recruited by Roman, who immediately began to whisper in his ear.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Patton asked, both being close enough for the question doesn’t need to be spoken above a murmur.

“Not a good thing for us both, I am sure.” In that moment The Lookers turned and a cold shiver ran Logan who, for the way Patton trembled, wasn’t the only one. Adrenaline started pulsing on his veins when they approached, although the birthday person had no idea of why. His old memories too much buried under newer ones for him to catch them.

“Nooohoho.” The cat lover whined and the fact Roman clearly saw that but did nothing to point it, his only reaction being to expand his grin, worsened Logan fears, a ray of recognition finally shining on his mind. That should be how karma feels.

“Look at you both, just standing right there, not being allowed to move an only single inch. What a sad fate, don’t you think, Princey?”

“Oh, absolutely, emo. A horrible, wondrous thing, indeed. But you know what that would be perfect for?” Roman now was just a few centimeters away, the infinitesimal distance being cut when he inclined forward, his breath tickling Patton’s – Poor Patton – ear. “Revenge. You know, Pattycake, Hot Topic here told me the previous attack on my amazing person was your idea. And now that I stop to think, what a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Pat-pat?”

Virgil pulled lightly Roman’s shoulder, sensing the other about to crack but yet having too much fun to end this all so early. “But not now. No touching, right?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course, no touching!” He wiggled his fingers, barely away from the poor target’s ribs, his cheeks already beginning to get pink from blush. “No touching, no touching, no touching, but, most important than anything else: no. moving.”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil took the opportunity to walk around, stopping right behind Patton, who firmly closed his eyes, the smile he carried getting bigger. “Because the exact, very moment when you can’t take the teases anymore so you break and move?” He tsked. “Then all your protection will be over and you will be all helpless and vulnerable for us to tickle,” He almost purred the words, in the slowest way possible. “tickle, tickle, tickle for hours and hours. Can you imagine that, Popstar? Our fingers prodding and squeezing and tickling every single ticklish spot they find?”

“Ohoho.” Roman evil laughed. “Tickle spots? My Dear Imbalanced Romance, our pipsqueak here doesn’t have any tickle spots. He IS a tickle spot. Ah! I can almost hear his hysteric high-pitched squeaks and giggles! Such an adorable, beautiful, cute melody to my ears. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop, Virgil. It’s just all too beautiful and intoxicating, you know?”

“Mm hm,” The other seemed to stop to think. Patton felt like he was going to melt at any moment. “Well, we could always just keep going forever.”

“Of course!” Roman again ignored the slight trembling of the cat lover’s chest, probably due all the giggles trapped there. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful and oh, so, so fun, cutiepants? Receiving all the tickles and nuzzles and raspberries and tickle hugs and tickly butterfly kisses forever and ever and ever? ~” He sing-song the last part.

“But,” Logan almost jumped in the same place, not even realizing how much keyed up he was before Virgil’s breath attacked the back of his defenseless neck. Suddenly all his nerves were hype-aware that he couldn’t turn around or run or even rub away the tingles. Goosebumps ran freely across his spine. “Let’s not forget about our so sensitive nerd here too, right?”

“Sure. Sensitive.” If he didn’t know Roman for all these years, Logan would almost swear he was the Cheshire cat, his smirk almost blocking Patton who hugged himself behind him, giggling quietly. “Because the serious, smart, professional Logan would never be ticklish, right? That is such a childish thing and he definitely, definitely outgrow it for now.”

“Yup. I am sure that, if we slowly and thoroughly spider our fingers all the way up from his sides to his armpits, being sure to give each and every rib a special attention since we don’t want to let anyone feeling left out, there will be no reaction.”

“Absolutely! No reaction at all! Not even if we squeeze the hollows of his hips, or scribble on his already quivering tummy, or massage his shoulder blades or lightly, almost not touching, scratch his armpits… It will be all in vain since our birthday boy is not ticklish.”

“Which means: No wheezy, frantic laughter.”

“Or sputtering among his squeals.”

“Or cute snorts. Don’t forget the snorts.”

“And what about when the snorts get mixed with his belly laughter?”

“Ohh, that is some good shit you have there.”

Logan was dying. He was fucking dying and the only thin line keeping him alive was his stubborn nature. He could already feel his barrier cracking and crumbling right before him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find both Lookers walking away back to the tunnels, not taking long before starting to count, this time out loud. The one with the, now freaking out, braincell began to snap his fingers non stop, trying to get away some of the built excited energy, some titters escaping from his lips during his happy stimming.

Roman and Virgil looked at each other and then the adorable scene right in front of them, deciding to have mercy and wait patiently for Logan and Patton – who yet didn’t stop giggling and hugging himself – to calm down.

(…)

One. Move.

And in the next second, they both were tackled on the ground.

“No, no, no!!! No!!” Patton was already giggling, trying to run from Roman’s firm hug, attacking with squeezes and scribbles in every spot he succeeded to research on the Looker as he also tried to escape from his friends’ hands attempting to hold him in the same place. “Wait, wait!” He cried, barely catching a glimpse of Logan’s trashing before an idea popped in his mind. “If we all gang up on Logan, I will tell about his secret tickle spot!!”

“Patton!!” Logan’s protest came out difficulty between his tight grin due his constant effort in trying to buckle Virgil from him, both struggling to immobilize the other and playfully rolling in the grass. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Pffft.” Roman said, a happy cry following his sentence when he finally managed to hold one of Patton’s hands, intertwining their fingers so the cat lover wouldn’t try to pry it away. “Nonsense, I know his tickle spots.”

“Not all of them. ~”

“Patton, I am to going not figuratively end you. Get OFF, Virgil-”

“In your dreams.” He crackled. “Also, Patton, I’m listening.”

“Virgil! Don’t align with the enemy! And, of course I know all of them!”

“Even the one…”

“Patton, no! Stop!” Roman even if concentrated in tickling Patton’s knee so he could sit on his legs, got the slight tremble in Logan's voice, his curiosity one more time starting to take over his brain.

“Sorrey, sorrey, Lo! You know I love you but-”

“Patton, please.” Logan almost smiled as he fought his way to hug and trap Virgil from behind, but losing his balance as the other quickly turned and delivered a raspberry on his neck and quick squeezes on his left thigh. “dON’T!! I-I am going to bakeEEK - Fuck! - you a whole batch of cookies if you don’t tell them!”

Roman caught in the offer, his curiosity immediately perking up, answering in a bat:

“I’m going to tickle you both to pieces if you don’t tell us now.”

“Sorrey, Logan,” Patton tried to sound apologetic, but his excited smile made this task more difficult. “it’s you or me.”

“I’m going to tell them about your calves!” Logan threatened at the same time Patton said “It’s his lower back!”

“TRAITOR!” Both also shouted in synchrony. In a blink of eye Roman let Patton go and helped Virgil to make the most serious one of the group lay down on his stomach.

“I despise you all.” The aforementioned pronounced.

“Aww. Come on.” Virgil lowered, searching the other’s eyes, grinning. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“400.000 years of evolution for humanity to become this. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You know, talking like this makes me think you don’t want us to give you your so dearly craved birthday tickles, Pocket Protector!”

The three of them stared at the other, looking carefully for any slight indication that Logan was truly uncomfortable with the situation, receiving as response only a scoff, the blush painting his face as a whispered mumble flew from his mouth.

“You’re so cute!” Patton squealed, giving a light tickly kiss on the back of his neck, leading the attacked to suppress a small giggle which progressively got louder as the cat lover tickled his armpits, Roman and Virgil seeing unfazed by Logan’s squirming. “Okay, okay. You have to tickle his lower back but starting with reeeeeally slow scratches at his sides before speeding it to the fastest scribbling you can muster as you move to his spine!”

Logan hid his hot face behind his hands, the yelps and snorts already escaping between his fingers. He was, objectively, going to love every single second of this.

#Ler!Roman #Ler!Virgil #Lee!Logan #Lee!Patton #brief Lee!Roman & Ler!Virgil/Patton #Teases #Teasy cute nicknames #playful tickles #Sanders Sides tickles #Happy stimming #Sanders Sides tickling #tickle fic #Logan playing is inspirated in one friend of mine who is adorable until he starts to play then he becomes a fucking thing #out of a fucking horror movie #If he got too much close of me I would scream and I'm not kidding. He was terrifying and he loved this xD #Ohhh so that is how writing a self indulgent fic feels like-#My first plan was to make a LAMP series with all their birthdays but life said 'no' and then I just worked with what I had and #being pretty honest??? I am so so so much proud of it.#Especially looking at my first tickle fic ever which I wrote around this same time last year #Btw when I used to play this at school light tickles and teases were allowed xDDD #EXTREMELY RARE but allowed xDD #Self care is writing ur self idulgent fic while listenning your fav nostalgic playlist

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martellthemandalor · 4 years

Text

Happy Deathday

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Warnings: Language, suggestion of biting

Rating: T (teen)

Word count: 1.9K+

A/N: This is a small fic for anyone celebrating their birthday! I hope you enjoy this little treat with our favourite vampire sales manager. also no editing because i finished this at 3am lmaoo.

Masterlist!

GIF IS NOT MY OWN. CREDIT TO THE OWNER.

“Happy birthday to you!”

The off-key drone of your co-workers voices finished with an enthusiastic round of applause. You smile up at the gaggle of them, leaning forward to blow out the singular candle protruding from the cake being presented to you.

“Thank you everyone, please help yourself to a slice before you leave. Lord knows I won’t be able to finish it by myself,” You joked, gesturing to the sizeable cake that rested in the hands of your boss. He chuckled at you, setting the cake down and producing a knife to section it with.

You got to packing away your days’ work right away, your colleagues flocking to the sweet treat being offered freely on the adjacent desk.

A cold hand on your shoulder caused you to jump. Your mouth twisted into a small smile as you swivelled to find yourself met with the dark eyes of your manager.

“(Y/N) I need to see you in my office,” He instructed, that damn infuriating smirk playing across his face.

“Come on Boss, it’s her birthday let her go have fun,” Tim protested through a mouthful of cake. You grinned at him, rolling your eyes as you saw him reach for another slice.

“Thank you for your concern Tim, I would almost be grateful if it wasn’t a clear ploy to get more of my cake,” You accused playfully. “Of course boss, I’ll be right with you.”

Max gave your shoulder a squeeze, shooting you a wink as he sauntered back to his office.

“You really shouldn’t let him keep you late, this is literally the one day a year you can break the rules,” Tim mumbled at you, biting off another chunk of cake.

“Tim, I really don’t think that’s true,” You laughed, “But if it makes you feel any better, my plans don’t start until later, I kind of guessed Max would be enough of an asshole to keep me back after work,” You slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way over to Max’s office. Glancing over your shoulder you saw Tim trying to sneak another slice cake.

“Hey Tim, just take the whole thing okay? I’ve got another one coming later,” You called to him.

Tim’s eyes lit up, nabbing the cake off the desk and all but sprinting out of the door. You really did work with some… interesting characters to say the least. It certainly made every day a different experience, especially with the changes that had been happening around the office recently.

You softly rapped on the solid wood of the door, and upon hearing the muffled “Yep!” from the other side swiftly entered.

Max was leant back on his chair, legs propped up on his desk. His eyes raked over your figure as you shut the door behind you. You turned to face him, bracing your back against the smooth wood.

“You never learnt the art of subtlety did you?” You asked him, arching your eyebrow at your undead boyfriend.

“Absolutely not sweetheart, sales don’t come from subtlety,” He claimed, swinging his feet off the desk and beckoning you to come sit on his lap. You rolled your eyes at him, an involuntary action you found yourself doing twice as much since beginning your relationship with him.

“People are going to find out about this if you don’t tone it down,” You said nonchalantly, wandering slowly towards the desk, your eyes locked on his.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Max retorted, dramatically rolling his eyes in direct parody of you. “Besides babe, I just know you love it.” He punctuated his point with a wink.

God you wanted to slap him sometimes.

“And… how do you know that?” You asked. Your fingertips trailed across the polished oak of the desk, dancing around the various pencil pots and other knick-knacks he had spread across the surface. Another part of his game with the team, every time he turned someone new, suddenly a new item turned up on his desk.

Max had told you it was a motivation tactic, because of course it was. He said that people don’t like being reduced to objects, explaining that by adding an item, a trophy, each time someone was turned reduced them to just that. By doing this, and drawing attention to it through meetings and whatnot, the non-turned would work twice as hard in order to stay that way, to not be reduced to an object. He may be a smug bastard, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t a clever one.

You slid across the front of the desk, gave Max the smuggest smile you could muster, then hopped up onto the edge opposite him. A blatant shun to his previous invitation. This was another game he liked to play with you, the cat and mouse of it all, and you were more than happy to fill your role.

“Because,” he said, leaning forward in that ridiculous chair and dropping his voice lower. “I could hear your heart beat faster.”

Yeah, he got you there. Damn his upper hand. You tried to keep a straight face as the cogs in mind whirred furiously to come up with a smartass retort. It quickly became impossible to do so though, you knew Max could see right through your struggle as he slowly inched his chair closer to you. You fought back your smile, but lost the struggle with an infectious laugh as his face contorted into a smug duck face.

“Gotcha,” he proclaimed triumphantly. In one swift move he lifted you from the desk and into his lap, his strength meaning you weighed nothing as he pulled you close to him, causing a slight squeal to escape you. It sent a thrill through you whenever he displayed his strength like that, the way he strong armed you around a complete juxtaposition to the feather light way he handled you while doing it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you settled into his lap, his own hands resting comfortably around your waist. He cocked his eyebrow at you, his copyright smirk playing across his lips as he waited for you to make the move.

You smoothed your hands across the back of his neck, over his shoulders and traced your fingers across the rigid lapels of his suit. Then you grabbed onto the lapels and tugged him towards your mouth, leading him into a surprisingly gentle kiss.

His cool lips instinctively moved against your own, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he dragged his tongue across your bottom lip. Opening your mouth you let him slip his tongue in, his gentle taste of mint flooding your senses. You smiled against him when you broke for breath.

He dragged his lips across your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Happy birthday baby,” He murmured against the warmth of your skin.

“Thank you babe,” You responded, tugging lightly on his hair to pull him from you. You both looked at each other for a minute, his eyes darting over your features, as if trying to memorise you.

The silence was thick and comfortable, but as was normal with Max the quiet didn’t last long.

“Are you sure you want to do this sweetheart?” Max asked. He brushed his thumb softly across your cheekbone, his other hand coming up to caress down your neck. The tenderness of his touch made your heart jump at your ribs. You slid your hands up his arms, resting them at his wrists.

“I’m more than sure Max, we’ve talked about this, I want this,” You reassured him.

“But-” You quickly placed a finger over his lips. For a man so hell bent on turning every other warm body in the office for the sake of efficiency, he was being surprisingly apprehensive with you.

“Max. Look at me. I love you. I want this with you. There’s no one else I can possibly imagine being with, and I- fuck- I want to be turned by you so I can live with you as we are, forever. Okay?” You stressed. Max took your hands in his and brought them to his lips, peppering kisses along each of your knuckles.

“I love you to baby, so much,” He said gently. He leant in and pressed a series of chaste kisses to your lips. Then it was like a switch flipped in his head and suddenly your suave, almost douchebag of a boyfriend was back again. “Come on then sweetheart,” He announced, a tap on your thigh giving you the hint to stand up. You smiled as you dismounted him, heading for the door.

He got up and shot to the door before you could get close, opening it for you. He landed a playful swat on your ass as you crossed the open threshold, his voice following not long after.

“Let’s get you home and turned to the sexiest vamp in the office, rivalled only by me of course”

Entering your apartment was like entering a different world. Max had disappeared on his lunch break and where initially you were confused as to what he could have got up to for the full hour, it was now crystal clear.

He had come back to yours and cleaned the place from head to toe. He had also layed out candles and ruby red rose petals across the floor of the hall, which he was currently, and rather frantically, lighting as you hung up your coat.

Your living room had undergone the same treatment, with the addition of a bottle of red wine, a new wine glass set, a box of fancy chocolates and a small, very neatly wrapped, present sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.

“Max you- you didn’t have to do all this,” You exclaimed to your boyfriend, who had now settled himself on the sofa. He patted the space next to him, which you eagerly occupied.

“Of course I did, it’s your birthday and you deserve something extra special,” He responded, hand waving off your concerns.

He then leant forward and took the present from the table, placing it into your waiting hands. Snuggling into him, you began to carefully unwrap the present. The paper fell away to show a black velvet box, opening which caused you to gasp loudly.

Inside was a ring, a beautiful woven band of silver with a small diamond set with precision in the middle.

“Will you marry me?”

The words were murmured next to your ear, soft and laced with anxiety. Your stomach did a somersault for him, your beautiful, self-assured dumbass was really afraid that you would turn him down.

You twisted in his embrace, softly kissing him before whispering “Yes,” against his lips. His answering smile was one you were never going to forget, so full of joy and love, and all for you. Only for you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Max gently took the ring box from you.

He took the ring from the box and slid it onto your ring finger, sealing the placement with a kiss.

The rest of the evening flew by. Between the glasses of red, feeding each other chocolate and laughing, it felt like time had turned to liquid around you. Max was running his fingers through your hair, his gaze fixated on your neck.

It was time.

“Ready sweetheart?” He simply asked, as if you weren’t about to give up your rhythmic heartbeat for him. The anticipation was making your heart race and you wondered if you would ever miss the feeling of it hammering in your ribs.

“Yes Max, ready as I’ll ever be,” You affirmed, your hand seeking his own and instinctively locking with it.

You skin felt alight, burning hot when you felt the smooth curve of his fangs brush against your neck.

“Happy deathday baby.”

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fic #bloodsucking bastards #birthday fic #my writing

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annab-nana · 4 years

Text

Kinda Lucky - Sam Golbach

You were away on a work trip when Sam broke his back and you can’t go visit him because of the quarantine in California, so as soon as you get back from the trip, Sam fills you in on all that happened and how the boys have been checking up on him.

Requested by @specialagentrin 💙

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 1.5k+

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"Oh my God! Sam! Hi!" you shout excitedly as you see your boyfriend through your phone screen, but the smile on your face soon drops when you catch a glimpse of his back brace. You felt like absolute shit for not being able to really talk to him for the past week and a half, but your job wanted you and a couple of your coworkers to go on this retreat in the mountains and you barely got to use your phones. When you did get them, you were lucky if you got service.

The first night you were gone, all hell broke loose in Los Angeles. A few nights later, you got your phone for like an hour, but you had no service. Of course, you were determined to talk to Sam for at least a few minutes, so you wandered around until you got some sort of connection and when you did, all the text messages and Twitter notifications came through.

Sammy❤️ Don't freak out but I might have broken my back

Sam Tweeted: possibly just broke my back trying to jump off my roof… might go to the hospital right now and sadly no this is not a prank

Colby Tweeted: sometimes we just take things too far

Ye Roc Tweeted: Well shit

jake Tweeted: we wouldn’t prank you guys about this, it’s real. he’s a strong boy tho 💪🏻

Sammy❤️ Okay I definitely broke my back Sammy❤️ I know that when you get these messages you are gonna freak Sammy❤️ But I'm okay I promise Sammy❤️ I love you and hope you have fun on your retreat babe ❤️

Colbear🐨 hey just wanted to let you know that we made it to the hospital and he's doing good Colbear🐨 we are leaving the hospital and heading home Colbear🐨 he told me to tell you he loves you

Sam was right. As soon as you saw the messages and notifications, you freaked the fuck out. If Chloe, your coworker and close friend, had not have come on this retreat, you would have completely lost your mind worrying over your not-as-smart-as-he-thinks-he-is boyfriend. But you have had her to talk to about all this thankfully. For the few seconds of service you managed to find, you tried to call Sam, but he did not answer. So, you called his other half, Colby, and he answered. The two of you only talked for like five minutes maybe but during the whole conversation, he made sure you knew that he and the guys were taking care of your Sammy by sending you messages and videos throughout your whole trip.

"Y/n! Babe! How was your retreat?" Sam returns your same enthusiastic tone when replying.

"It was good, but I feel like crap for not being able to be with you through all this," You pout, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You bring your hands up to cover your face and attempt to calm yourself down.

"No, baby, don't cry. I am fine. See, look at me!" his cheerful voice fills your ears. Looking up at him, you see his normal bright smile shining back at you. He had a hand rested on his back brace while his other gave you a thumbs up. A giggle falls from your lips as a tear escapes your eye. You wipe it away before smiling at your boy.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He chuckles before nodding his head.

"Trust me, I know," he says as he rests both of his hands on his brace.

"Tell me how all this shit happened anyway." He sighs before beginning the story about how he and the guys were doing this ten days of dares thing for TikTok and the dare was to jump off the roof of their house onto the big white bean bag chairs that they have. And of course, when they spun the wheel to figure out who would do it, it landed on your boyfriend, Samuel John Golbach.

"Why did you agree to do it? I mean, I know you just did the video jumping off the balcony at the apartment onto those things but this was a much farther drop and there was a soft couch underneath the bean bags, not hard ass ground," you tell him and he shrugs, not really knowing why he did it but by the look on his face, you could tell he regretted it a lot.

"I don't know. I just did it and it was pretty scary. Colby kept saying 'You're good, man. You just knocked the wind out of you.' I think he was trying to convince himself more than me that I was okay. But we went inside and iced it before deciding that we should probably go to the hospital. So, Colby took me, but he told all about that right?" You nod at him before he continues.

"They gave me this cool ass vest and the guys have been the best through all of this. Even though I didn't want a break, I feel like this made me take one because I needed it. I'm stuck in this sucker for a little over four more weeks." Before he could continue, you hear someone enter his room.

"Oh, hey Jake. What's up?" Sam asks his roommate.

"Nothing bro, just brought you a drink, man," you hear Jake’s voice as Sam reaches for the beverage.

"Thanks, man," Sam smiles at his friend.

"Hello Jake!" you shout before hearing the pair chuckle.

"Hey y/n!" He responds before leaving to let Sam and I talk, but not without giving a delicate hug to his friend with the slightly damaged spine.

"So, you're getting the royal treatment, I see?" you ask as he sips on the soda that Jake had just brought to him. He hums in response.

"Well, I saw that you're still making tiktoks and not giving your back the rest it needs," you joke, receiving a cute chuckle from the man on the other end.

"No, I have been. You know how much I hate sitting around, doing absolutely nothing, but sometimes Corey will come up here and dance for me to keep me entertained. And he and Jake both invite me to come play video games with them, even when I kick Jake's ass every time." You giggle at him.

"That's my man," you boast as he smiles at you.

"Colby will come in here a lot and make sure I have everything I need. All of them do that actually, but Colby comes in here the most. It is really funny to see them try to hug me because they are so scared that it will hurt me. It doesn't and even if it did, I wouldn't care. They all hug me a whole lot than before. Colby lays in here with me and we will talk and scroll through TikTok so I'm not all alone."

"Has Colby been giving you cuddles for me?" you ask. When you talked to Colby on the phone while you were gone, you specifically asked him to give your Samuel cuddles for you. Sam laughs at the question but shakes his head.

"I hate to break it to you, but he hasn't. He's hugged me, but I have been cuddle deprived this whole quarantine."

"That bitch. I'm adding him to this call," You say as you add him to the FaceTime call between Sam and yourself. Soon enough, Sam and Colby's faces share your screen.

"Hello you two," Colby greets the two of you with a smile.

"Cole, I asked you to do one thing," you start.

"What did I do?" He questions as his eyes widen and he runs through every possible thing in his mind that he could be in trouble for.

"It's more of what you didn't do, brother," Sam comments with a huge smile on his face. Colby rolls his eyes before returning his attention to you.

"You were supposed to cuddle him for me. He doesn't have a dog like I do, and he needs cuddles now more than ever," you pout, poking out your bottom lip. Colby sighs before getting out of his bed, leaving his room, and ending the call, so it is just you and Sam on the phone. You can hear Sam's door open, causing him to look up from his phone. He flips the camera around so that you can see his best friend standing in front of his circular shaped bed. As he turns the camera back around, Colby gets into the bed with Sam and snuggles up next to him.

"Is this what you wanted?" Colby asks as he looks up at you. You bust out laughing, nodding your head. You can't help but take a screenshot of the adorableness in front of you.

"Hey, we didn't agree to that," Colby whines before sliding away from his best friend of nine years.

"Oh, trust me. You have plenty of bad pictures of me. You'll be fine, Cole," you tease. Colby leaves after a little while of you three talking and then it's just you and Sam alone again.

"Do you know how lucky you are to have friends like you do?" you ask him to which he grins greatly.

"I guess you could say I'm kinda lucky, but I am the luckiest guy in the world because I have you."

#sam #sam golbach #cute #sam x reader #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #colby #colby brock #jake #jake webber #corey #corey scherer #fanfic #fanficiton #y/n #sncnetwork

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Undercover.”

Wrote something for you all this morning. It’s a little more fun and fluffy than anything else, but it also forward the arc, so I hope you like it. Have a great day everyone

Also we have a discord server now, and he link below should be permanent. Hope to see you there :)

https://discord.gg/cTY5SHx

“So you two are planning to…. What exactly? Pose as one of us to get information from these people.”

“That is kind of the general idea I guess.”

Sitting at the bar surrounded by all the noise and lights their conversation went unheard the rest of the bar goers around them.

The bartender and his small Finnari companion wandered off at intermittent times to serve drinks to other customers before wandering back.

The human leaned against the bar, “Look, if that is your plan, then you are going to need some help blending in.”

The commander raised an eyebrow, “Blending in, how so. She's a Drev I’m a human slap on some makeup and a little hair dye and no one will be the wiser.”

The bartender just smiled and shook his head as if amused at the Commander’s ignorance, “no no no, that’s not how it works. You see there is an entire culture behind extrials, a lot of stuff we had to do before it became legal and a lot of stuff we still do now as a sort of memento of the hard times.”

The commander blinked, “Oh, really. I had no idea.”

“That’s alright. It’s not like we advertise it out to everyone, that’s the whole point of it being a secret. Look me and Vin’an get off in like fifteen minutes, and we can help you two out. Besides, the people who have been approaching everyone would never consider doing it here anyway. Most of these people aren’t rich enough, and the establishment is actually a legal one which means it is prone to inspections.”

“Right, sounds fun.”

The commander turned in his seat and leaned back resting his elbows up on the bar. Sunny watched him from where she sat a seat over still nursing her drink, “You seem relaxed for someone who is preparing to spend the next couple of days in espionage.”

He grinned, “Ah but it is also the kind of espionage where I can go partying with my best friend, so I would consider it a little less working and a little more paid vacation.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re an idiot, you know that.”

“You love it.”

“Mmmmhmmm sure.”

Sunny finished her Drink and the commander closed his eyes seeming to soak up the atmosphere like some sort of strange sponge. Sunny would never understand that about him, of course she liked going out and doing things, but she couldn’t imagine being able to recharge around people. After a while she needed a break, but it looked like he was getting ready to fall contentedly asleep.

A knock on the bar behind them, and she turned to see the bar tender had been replaced by a different couple/

“You two ready to go.”

“Sure thing boss.” the commander turned to sunny, “Come on lets go be cultured and things.”

She just shook her head again but followed along with the group of them as they were motioned through the backdoor behind the bar and up a flight of stairs.

“You guys live here?” The commander wondered.

“A lot of us live in the same building. It makes it easier on all of us. less questions asked and a lot safer, we can pool our money for security equipment and what not. Strength in numbers as it were.”

“Right, makes sense.”

He shouldered open a door to the next apartment stepping into a room lined in UV lights over large potted plants. Everything else had a very modern futuristic looks with neon floor lights and minimalistic furniture, “Damn, bartending pays well.” The commander muttered under his breath, “And I’m still sleeping in a twin.”

“Make yourselves comfortable, go ahead and sit anywhere.”

Before Sunny would do anything the Commander had claimed a strange circular shaped chair that was hanging from the ceiling. It rocked back and forth, and he seemed to be enjoying himself, which was rather amusing to her. It was like trying to wrangle a puppy..

A moment later the bartender came to sit down with them, and the Commander was polite enough to stop his playing around and pay attention, which was a feat all in itself.

“Alright, so a little background for you guys, just general information that anyone in the community would know.” He cracked his knuckles, “The LFIL began as a result of one of the oxyclinics.”

“Oh hey! I worked at one of those after the war for a short time,”

The punk nodded, “Than you know, in those places you tend to get kind of intimate and close up with other aliens. Generally it was very rare and the humans kept everything professional. Generally it started with them having feelings for some people they met but never saying anything or mentioning it because at the time they thought it was wrong. Plus also it was seriously and very professionally wrong to go and do anything about it. However, there was one couple, a Drev and a human who became really good friends during the course of the treatment, and eventually wen the Drev left they kept in contact. Turns out that the human’s second job was as a cage fighter down on one of the local stations for money. They ended up running into each other there where the Drev saw them fight. That led to more time spent hanging out and you get the gist. Independently stories like that were happening all over. Finnari worked well with humans who wanted someone to protect, drev like fighters, and Tesraki were drawn by people’s good business sense and stayed for how loyal humans are. Eventually it spread from the oxy clinics.”

“Wow, I had no idea it began that way, though I guess it makes sense.”

The bartender smiled, “Yeah. I met Vin’an when looking for a place to stay. I had just moved here, and she was looking to hire a human to keep her safe in the big cit. Things progressed from there, so my story is a little less complicated than most, but I guess the one thing you need to know that relates to all extrials is that we are all, in some way very, very eccentric. If you are going to date an alien tan odds are you are going to stand out in other ways as well. At first, it was sort of just a coincidence of personality, but when we started to learn that there were others like us, we started doing it on purpose to let people subtly know who and what we were.”

“But plenty of humans are eccentric.” Sunny pointed out

He turned to look at her, “Not so much off earth. They tend to be military or business types, so not a lot of eccentricities going on. Plus, for a while, we used tattoos to signal what we were, generally we would get the image of the alien that we were attracted to on the arm or other part of the body. It was all in an effort to let each other know what we were and what we were willing to do.”

“And how did aliens react to that?”

“You know, I think there is this misconception that aliens are less prone to odd behaviors than humans and that it is humans that always initiate, but that isn’t true. I know plenty of couples where the non-human was the first one to approach. Of course, it is definitely more of a personality based thing than any other type of relationship. You will find that there are very few extrials who are attracted to aliens outright in the way that normal people are. I mean yeah there are a few, obviously, but most of us had no idea until we met the perfect person. In fact, I've dated plenty of humans in my time, and it didn’t bother me. But that is how a lot of the progressions go, you start out as really good friends, and then it goes from there as you get to know each other.” he clapped his hands, “Anyway, first thing is first, we need to make you look like one of us, that means eccentric.”

From where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sunny looked up, “He wears an eyepatch and a military grade cybernetic leg. I think he’s already eccentric enough to fit in.”

The other human laughed while the commander flipped her the bird.

“I mean that is kind of true, but we want you eccentric in a way where no one is going to recognize you. Sunny, I am going to have you go out with Vin’an and pick out some nail polish for your new color. She can help you get ready.”

***

Something the commander and Sunny thought was going to take an hour or two turned into an entire day. Sunny ended up stuck sitting on the roof with the little Finnari being painted a nailpolish color that was called ‘opal unicorn’ which was sort of silver white with sparkles in it. It was a very pretty color, kind of reminding her of her brother’s late partner, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed all the work it took to put the stuff on. It took almost three applications over her full body and A UV light source to harden the stuff.

Still though, she assumed it was much more intense than Adam, and when they returned to the apartment she was surprised to find that he wasn’t there. The two of them sat around for a while playing games and talking about random things until the door clicked open and two humans walked in.

At first Sunny thought The bartender had brought home another one of his other friends before her eyes zeroed in on the human’s face. The eye color was different now a bright blue, but she would know that sheepish expression anywhere.

“Ho-ly shit.” She said looking him up and down, “IS that really you in there.”

He flipped her the bird, “yeah, it’s me.”

The bartender was grinning from one side of his face to the other.

“You know I am pretty sure he went out and did this just to amuse himself.”

“I mean you do look pretty funny.”

“I am very much not a fan of getting a nailgun through my soft cartilage, lets get that straight.”

Sunny tilted her head “Oh so those aren’t clip ons.”

“No, no they are not clip ons.”

“Huh.”

“Told you, no one will recognize you.” The bartender said, grinning

“Yeah no one will recognize me, I don’t even recognize myself. It seems to e a trend in my life lately, dying and cutting my hair.”

Sunny tilted her head the other way. His new look was primarily characterized by lightning blue hair shaved almost to the scalp on the sides and long on the top with some sort of magic holding it straight up in the air. Both of his ears were pierced including one that had piercings along both the top and bottom of the ear with a chain connecting the two.

The more she looked the more she wanted to laugh.

Somehow, he even had a stud in his upper chest around the base of the throat near the collarbones

“You laugh, I Kill You.”

“Don’t worry, I'll just incapacitate you with a large magnet.”

“Mother fucker.”

She danced away laughing as he charged at her skipping out of the way as his heavy boots thudded over the ground.

“Hey, quiet down you’ll wake up my neighbors.” The man hissed as the two of them skidded to a stop.

“You look like a baby punk walked into a staple factory.” Sunny mocked

“And you look like unicorn ji-”

“Keep it civil.”

He shut his mouth tight, “Alright, are we ready, finally?”

“Well, not exactly.”

He crossed his arms, “What do you mean not exactly.”

He smiled “well you aren’t going to convince anyone… unless.”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you actually look like a couple

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh, now go on hold her hand. She’s got enough of them to spare.”

Sunny looked at Adam, Adam looked at Sunny.

“Well go on its not like you’re suddenly going to become extrial if you hold hands.”

“That's not the-” Adam began

“Less talking more hand holding.”

Sunny shrugged and held out her upper left hand. Adam stared at it cleared his throat, reached out and paused.

“Come on, we haven’t got all night. Promise you aren’t suddenly going to be attracted to aliens.”

“I never said-”

“Go on.”

He looked over at sunny again. She tilted her head at him, “Wow, making me feel really great here Adam, promise I don’t have germs.”

He ignored them, reached out and took her hand.

He was…. Very awkward. The palm of his hand was very sweaty, and he didn’ts seem to understand that the point of hand holding was to make contact with the person and not avoid touching them as much as possible.

The punk sighed and walked over, “have you ever held hands with anyone…. Ever?”

“No.”

“Oh hmm.”

He walked over grabbed them and readjusted, “Hold down here, and now get a bit closer, closer. Seriously dude what is your issue. You sort of just interlace the fingers like that.” He practically had to bodily move Adam right up next to sunny.

He was stiff as a board.”

“You aren’t very good at this.”

Adam had his mouth clamped shut.

“Honestly you can actually look like you like her. I know you guys are friends and friends hold hands all the time.”

Adam tugged at the collar of his jacket, “Is it hot in here?”

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just really really bad with anything in this related field.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend?’

“No.”

“Boyfriend.”

“No/ “One night stand.”

“No.”

His eyes were wide, “Wow, so you’re still.”

“Can we change the subject please.”

Off to his side he could feel sunny shaking. He looked over at her only to find that she was laughing silently behind his back.

“What’s so funny.”

“You, you’re funny. I have never met someone so adorably inept at interpersonal relationships.”

“This is a fake interpersonal relationship.”

“Just imagine how you would manage the real thing.” She continued to laugh and he frowned at her.

“Alright now why don’t we go out, get used to this outside head around and get to know the places. It’ll be a fun night.”

She pulled Adam closer, “Oh yes it will.”

He groaned.

***

The guy hadn’t been wrong. They went all over the city catching looks everywhere they went through their presence was greeted with great enthusiasm in almost every location. The commander kept his eye out for any suspicious activity though he didn't expect it to happen right away if at all. Him and sunny wouldn’t be likely to be approached seeing as they weren’t an established member of the community, but perhaps they could integrate well enough that they would notice when someone was approached.

Halfway through the n night the commander walked off to get drinks.

Sunny sat looking around the room and occasionally talking with some of the other patrons. Adam returned a moment later sitting next to her and handing her a drink before sliding his hand back into place in hers.

She could see him from the corner of her eyes as he discreetly checked out the room.

The aperture of his fake eye was adjusting opening and closing as he used it to catalog and track every person within radius.

HE craned his head to the side leaning against her as he tried to get a look at some people on the other side of the room.

She put an arm around him turning her head to see behind them.

Light flashed and strobed as music played in the background.

At some point they were invited to dancing and then bar hopping with another group which they took in order to properly integrate themselves inward.

The night went by and sunny lost all track of location and time.

She thought she fell asleep at some point and woke up to find Adam dozing off at her shoulder.

She remembered even later in that crashing at someone else’s apparent on the floor of the living room which was strewn with almost a dozen other people.

Adam and Sunny ended up squished against the couch pressed up against each other to make room for everyone else.

She was so tired that it didn’t matter the noise.

And then they were up again on the town and back to the bars.

Adam was only growing more comfortable while she was beginning to lag. This lifestyle was not for her. She hadn’t been alone in hours. The constant noise and people were draining her life away.

At one point in the night they were sitting back on one of the couches talking. Adam stretched and put his arm over her shoulder turning his head and leaning in close. His breath was hot against her face, “Three o clock. I think I got something.”

She turned her head forehead brushing against his. Giving him cover, “What do you see.”

He pretended to laugh and leaned closer, “I've seen these people three times. They never touch each other barely look at each other, and the have just invited one of these couples into a back room.”

“They could just be…. Offering favors.”

Adam rested his head on her shoulder, “I don’t think so. They aren’t acting right, they don’t look right, point is there is something about them that does not belong here. You know plus they are both tesraki, which is kind of a dead give away.”

She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer, “OK yeah that is a bit suspicious.”

“I'm going to try and get access to the GA database, hopefully our IT guy can give us a bit of help.”

Shr an a hand through his hair, “Want me to keep an eye on them.”

“Go ahead.”

Another couple sat down across from them nearly blocking Sunny's view.

“I just have to say.” Their new neighbors commented learning closer, ‘You two are such a cute couple.” Sunny did her best to be polite while being forced to crane her neck past their heads.

“Why thank you. How about you two though, where did you guys meet.” That should shut them up for a while

And she was right.

Adam squeezed her hand once, and then twice.

She knew what that meant.

The two of them stood suddenly and Adam smiled, “Sorry guys, but I just got a call in from work. It was nice meeting you though, take care and have a good night.”

They were waved off with a smile.

Adam gripped her hand as together they walked through the club and towards the door where the Tesraki had disappeared.

Hopefully he knew what he was doing.

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