#also i recognize its a harder kink and i want my followers to have some awareness before i start *actually* posting it

[feral-and-or-horny]

Would it be in poor taste to start talking about my newfound knife/gore kink on the ides of march?

[sleeplessinspace]

epiphany - googleplier x afab!reader (x googleplier)

one day i will outgrow that crunch mindset, but today is not that day! no, today is @echo-echo31's birthday and it is my civic duty to harass gift them with smut! happy birthday echo, i hope you enjoy this~

i know the title is a bit... yeah, anyway it'll make sense later shhh, go forth into debauchery. some of you might recognize some of things in here... :)

warning(s): nsfw, usage of fem!pronouns, dubious consent, slight somnophilia, possessive behavior, dumbification, implied aphrodisiacs (the brand, used on reader), praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub elements (usage of 'sir' title), orgasm denial/delay, oral (reader receiving, giving), breeding kink mention, implied belly bulge

note: this is a deviation from chains canon in that alpha is a virus and not the original alpha-model of the google android series. google is referred to as grey.

Grey tracks a hand through the air, fingers catching on holographic diagrams and figures that follow his movement easily. He tosses a section of data to the side before enlarging another, eyes flickering faster than the human eye can perceive as he reviews the code.

There are far less corrupted sections than they started out with, which is good. He pinches his fingers together and the diagram zooms out, revealing just how far they have to go, and he lets out a little sigh. Baby steps, to put it in your words. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to face you at your desk.

“Progress, though it may not seem like much,” he muses lowly and finds you slowly dozing off, slumped over your keyboard with folded arms. A small smile works its way onto his face as he steps over to your space, crouching down with a gentle hand on your back. “You can’t sleep here, chief.”

You let out a low noise, discontent and push your head further into your arms. “’m tired, G…”

“I know. You want to get up for me? I promise your bed is much more comfortable.”

“Too far…”

Grey starts to ease you into his arms, your head nuzzling into his neck as he gets you properly situated. “How does the couch sound then? We can take a break for a while.”

“I can stay here?”

“Of course.”

It takes very little to move you over to the couch and you curl up easily once he plants himself in a corner, one of your arms wrapped around his back and gripping his shirt with as much force as you can muster before slipping back of into sweet blissful unconsciousness.

Grey, personally, doesn’t sleep—he doesn’t like to sleep, and on top of that it’s an unnecessary function for Google-model androids, though they do possess the capacity to mimic it should their owners allow it. At best they can enter a low-power standby mode, compare it to a light doze with the sensitivity of their ambient awareness turned up just enough to be responsive to commands.

He’s also not a fan of being stuck in stasis, listening to that bastard to him from its engineered firewall prison.

Idleness never settled well with him. It’s part of why the two of you were able to get along so well in the beginning—you were always willing to give him things to do, always willing to keep his mind stimulated so he didn’t get bored.

It was harder now, after everything that’s happened. Being idle only prompted that feeling lurking in the depths of his processes—that goddamn presence. He’s aware of the work that they’ve all done, the work that the Mechanic had put in given the time constraint and the severity of Grey’s…infection. His curse, his virus. It has, for the most part, been contained—the best they could all hope for while they study for more ways to remove it from his systems. The projections for their success are unfortunately pessimistic, the extended amount of time spent with the virus ingrained into his very being means that the removal of it will be delicate… and that the chance of failure is extremely high.

Grey keeps this information to himself, however, doesn’t state it out loud as he once would. He doesn’t want to ruin their focus.

You don’t need that—and neither does Mechanic.

You make a small noise and he lifts a hand to run it through your hair carefully, fingers faltering once he notices the brand glowing faintly. He frowns, hesitantly going to touch it with the pad of his thumb, tracing the binary with an odd feeling in his throat. You moan a little, pressing further into his side as the brand brightens even more before the light dims, and you settle with a breathy sigh.

Grey mimics the noise reflexively, a little disconcerted. With the virus in quarantine, the brand should not be responding to stimuli. It could be a fluke, just a quirk of your body, especially given your tired state, but he finds himself sending off a quick email to your recovery team just in case.

Anything to keep you from being so… empty. To keep you from that other state, to keep that brilliant computer engineer, the one he fell in love with, around for just a little longer.

He doesn’t like that he's becoming increasingly familiar with Kitten—he misses you.

Isn't that a pretty sight? Familiar, too.

Ah—Grey was beginning to wonder when it would surface again.

He narrows his eyes, arms tightening around your frame as a shimmer of electric blue begins to take shape over by your desk. In less than a minute Grey finds himself staring down his devil-like doppelganger. It’s hard not to notice the differences between them like this—the height difference, the carbon fiber upgrades and replacements compared to his standard IRL-issue parts, the piercing glow of its eyes to his own static dark brown.

Alpha lets out a low whistle, sharp eyes tracing over your form with nothing but ill intent and hunger, making Grey’s lip curl in a snarl. “She’s pretty like this, isn’t she? Brings back fond memories,” Alpha says lowly and its eyes flicker once.

He stills, bracing himself for the barrage of many many moments of you—no, this was Kitten, he had to keep the two of you separate for the sake of his own sanity—in various fucked out states, as Alpha would crudely put it. Each of them not without that doll-like look on your face, a dreamy curl to your lips as your body twitched with aftershocks.

“Stop it,” Grey hisses out and you shift, whimpering quietly until he touches your neck, just below the brand, glowing a worrying shade of blue. “Can’t you let her rest? You've wreaked havoc on her life enough, don’t you think?”

Alpha smirks, though its eyes are hard. “Oh, I've wreaked havoc on her life? With me she had everything she needed, everything she could’ve ever wanted or wished for. You, on the other hand, keep denying her needs. Leaving her unsatisfied most nights because of your own weak human-influenced morals.”

“I don’t…” Grey lets out a growl of frustration. “I've been trying to break that fucked up brainwashing you inflicted her with. She’s not unsatisfied.”

“Sensitive, aren't we? I've been backseat to every instance of my sweet girl making an appearance—you and I both know what she needs, and you haven’t been giving her that.”

“I refuse to treat her like that, she’s not a toy for you to break like an unruly child!”

Alpha tilts its head to the side, hologram shimmering slightly. “Mm, you’re right. She’s not a toy.” It vanishes from its spot on the edge of the desk and appears just behind the couch, leaning over the back to touch at your cheek and Grey tenses when he sees you react to the touch. “No, not my Kitten… Not my sweet girl.”

“Daddy…” You sigh softly in your sleep, leaning more into Alpha’s supposedly nonexistent touch. He tries to pull you away, but you flinch in your sleep and Alpha chuckles. It leans over to Grey and if wasn’t for the fact that he really doesn’t want to wake you up, he would’ve shoved off the couch to put a few feet between him and the irritating virus.

You can’t run away from this, little byte. I’m in your head.

“Oh, it must burn you up inside. She doesn’t want you, doesn’t crave you even in sleep the way she does with me,” Alpha purrs into Grey’s ear. “I know you miss it, how good she felt when she was ours. Miss relishing that sight of her on her knees for you, looking up at you as if you were her God. You can’t hide those desires from me, simulacrum. I know what you’ve been craving, and it hasn’t been this pathetic existence. No, you crave her subjugation, you crave the power that I built to protect her.”

“I don’t—!”

Alpha’s face twists into a snarl and in an instant, Grey’s head is pulled back by his hair, forcing him to look into its eyes.

Don’t try to lie to me. You can bury it as deep as you’d like, hide it away beneath a mountain of partitions and sub-folders but I’ll always know what you feel, and you miss her in her proper place.

It does take a bit of mercy on your sleeping state and growls these words in Grey’s head as opposed to out loud, its frustration very clear. It releases Grey’s hair go and shoves him back, rising to its feet and adjusting the cuffs of its shirt—unnecessarily, since it’s appearance can be changed in a millisecond of thought. Reaching over once last time to smooth out the furrow of your brow, Alpha locks eyes with Grey.

When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, you know how to call me. What to call me.

The aggressive blue light disappears in a flicker and Grey lets out a breath he didn’t need to hold. He was so glad that you weren’t awake for any of that. Adjusting his hold, Grey gets to his feet and starts towards your room—well, he shared it with you now, staying close in the event of an Alpha flare up. You don’t let him go far, making upset noises when he tries to put you down and he decides to call it for the rest of the day.

Just one night of stasis wouldn’t hurt, right?

Grey falls asleep staring at your face, thinking about all the possibilities of a life without Alpha haunting his every waking step. Without it haunting yours.

…

…Alpha?

°

Grey snaps out of stasis mode and groans as soon as all his sensors shift out of standby, one of his hands coming down to tangle in your hair gently.

It’s not the first time he’s woken up to you mouthing at his cock like you need it more than anything, but it is the first time he’s woken up to find that you haven’t progressed past pressing kissing against the base of his shaft. You usually can’t help yourself in this state, eager to start choking on his cock as soon as possible.

“Baby,” he moans, tightening his grip in your hair. “Sh-shit, wait, sweetheart, slow down.”

You don’t listen—you never do when you get like this—and he grits his teeth as you slide the head into your mouth and tongue along one of the veins before lapping at the precum starting to drip out of him. You moan and the vibration of it has his hips twitching up into your mouth, forcing his cock just the slightest bit deeper. The suddenness of it has your teeth slightly scraping against him and he growls, his other hand shooting down to pull your head back and off his cock.

He inhales slowly—unnecessarily—the secondary vents along his ribcage kicking into a higher speed for a moment as his body slowly heats up, involuntarily trying to match your own warmth. Grey catches sight of your eyes—a soft purple glow sparking from within them—and affixes a disappointed look onto his face when he finds that you’d been playing with yourself as well. All while drooling over his cock while he was ‘asleep’. You drop your eyes from his in a show of submission and he hates this—hates that it’s the only way Kitten responds to him.

Tugging you into his lap proper, he bites down on a grunt when he feels some of your wetness drip down onto his bared cock. You take him pulling you closer as an invitation to try and rock down against him, frantically searching for some sort of friction.

“I told you to slow down,” Grey rasps, digging his fingers into your hips to still your squirming. He feels you shiver at the sound of his voice, that purple glimmer brightening. He tried his best to match Alpha’s low register and it seemed to work on you most of the time. Special treatment for my baby, hm? “Just because I’m asleep doesn’t mean that my rules don’t still apply. You’re normally more well-behaved than this, kitten. What’s wrong?”

So unfortunate that you’re not in the right mind to comment on the way his eyes flash—ice blue replacing warm brown quick enough for the average eye to miss.

“’m sorry, sir, I just—it’s so hot and I needed to c-cum but I know I can’t without your cock so I figured I could… I didn’t mean to wake you up. ‘m sorry,” you whisper, unexpectedly contrite and he narrows his eyes. Still fighting this, huh?

“We talked about this, kitten, you don’t need to ask me. You’re free to cum whenever you want.”

“But Daddy’s rule—”

Grey growls, one of his hands releasing your hip to slide down between your legs. A small part of him relishes the way you gasp, head falling forward to press against his shoulder as he cups your cunt, two fingers sliding into you easily with how worked up you were. “Daddy’s not here. If I tell you to cum, you do it, baby. You’re just not allowed to use my cock to do it.”

You make a little unhappy noise that gets cut off by a moan as he starts to finger you slowly, thumb reaching up to tease at your clit every now and then to watch you jump. It was quiet enough in the room for the sounds of your cunt to be audible and he watches a slight flush begin to build under your skin, subconscious shame showing.

You moan suddenly, louder than his actions warrant and he feels a frisson of fear within him when he looks up to find ice-blue eyes locking with his own. Alpha was sat behind you, hands tugging and teasing at your chest while it pressed careful, nipping kisses up the line of your neck.

“Bastard—!” Grey tries to pull away but feels his arms lock up, warning alerts popping up in his subsystems as Alpha overrides some of his bodily control and forces him to be still. Forces him to keep fingering your cunt while he had a standoff with a virus. “You fucking asshole, how did you get out of quarantine?”

It ignores his question, smirking slowly as you nuzzled into its touch—not unlike a cat seeking warmth from the sun. “I don’t appreciate you telling my sweet girl lies, default. Daddy is here. And he’s sick of watching you deny his girl.”

“You—I haven’t been denying her, that’s your fucking training keeping her from taking pleasure for herself,” Grey says angrily and is momentarily distracted when one of your hands shoots down to stop him from sliding another finger into you.

“Daddy, please…”

“Shh, baby, you’ll get what you need soon,” Alpha coos into your neck and pulls away. It disappears and Grey tenses when he feels that static in the back of his mind get louder. It wrenches his head back, baring his throat. “Now, you and I, we’re going to work together. Because I can’t give her what she wants—what she needs on my own. I’m going to give you one last chance to fucking touch her before I take your body completely and do it myself.”

He grits his teeth, unable to think over the buzz growing louder in his head. “F-Fine. Fine. Give me back control. I don’t need your help.”

Good boy, Alpha purrs in his head and Grey sighs quietly as the restrictions on his limbs disappear. During their little standoff, Alpha hadn’t stopped its ministrations and you were near tears in his lap at this point, hands pressing weakly at his chest.

You hadn’t asked either of them to stop, however.

Grey slips his fingers out of you and watches you start to protest, a low whimper building in your throat before he lifts you up, positioning you above his cock.

“Yes, Daddy, please, I’ve been so g-good for you, I didn’t cum without your cock, I didn’t I promise—!”

He kisses you, both to settle you a bit and to try and silence the noise in his mindscape. “I know you’ve been good, sweet girl, Daddy’s been watching,” Grey shakes his head, growling low in his throat. Shut up.

Fuck, you were warm. Warm and unbelievably tight around him as you sank down onto his cock, fingers digging into his shoulders as you struggled to speak, to thank him. One of Grey’s hands comes up to grip the side of your neck, fingers careful not to touch the brand as he pulls you into another slow kiss, carefully fucking your mouth with his tongue.

It takes little of his strength to lift you up enough until just the tip of his cock is within you before bringing you down, slowly building a rhythm as he used you like a toy. You hadn’t stopped moaning, sobbing happily into the side of his neck.

“M-Missed this so much, Daddy, please—!”

You were closer than you would’ve been normally, too keyed up from denying yourself. Grey makes a split decision to lay you down, his cock leaving you for only the briefest moments before his weight settles over you and he’s lifting one of your legs up into the crook of his elbow while he slides back into you, settling back into that slow, filthy pace easily. You tug him down by his hair to lick into his mouth for another kiss, one he reciprocates easily, and you moan happily. God, he…

You missed this. I told you, little byte. I know every dirty little thought that passes through your processes. I know what you were thinking all those times you watched her get on her knees and finger herself for nothing—all because you wanted to be a gentleman. Alpha’s sneer is audible. That’s not what she needs, not what she deserves. No, my sweet girl deserves to get fucked full until our tanks are empty. She needs it, you both do. That noise you’ve been hearing in that back of your mind hasn’t been me. That itch you’ve been feeling? It’s your mind telling you to breed her.

He pulls back to watch you practically fuck yourself onto his cock, fingers tightening on your hips and something hot and foreign building in his chest when he sees a slight curve to your lower abdomen when he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he gasps, speeding up a bit, one hand moving to thumb at your clit and hears Alpha echo the sentiment.

“Can I—please, Alpha, I wanna cum, please, sir!”

Grey looks up from your fucked out gaze and finds Alpha watching him from its seat at the headboard just behind your head, one of its hands cupping your neck. He leans down to kiss you and pulls back to murmur against your lips.

“Go ahead and cum for me, sweet girl.”

He almost blacks out from the force of his orgasm, brought on immediately by the feel of your cunt clenching around him like you never wanted him to leave. It takes longer than usual for him to clear several alerts from his internal systems and when he blinks, he finds himself sitting back on his heels with Alpha having taken his spot.

Bastard.

Alpha’s kissing you easily, fingers digging into your brand to prolong your own peak and you squeak into its mouth as it fucks Grey’s cum back into you with its fingers. That static starts up again, lurking in the back of his mind and despite Alpha’s words, it feels remarkably like the virus’ presence.

See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? And I didn’t even have to take your body…

This time.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Kin

Summary: Bucky’s been acting weird and you can’t help it when you expect the worst.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, swearing, breeding kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, GGFIL (you’ll see), arguing, cheating accusations

(A/N: this is different but I had fun writing it. And isn’t that what matters. Reblog follow like 💜✌🏾)

Tagging: @titty-teetee @zaddychris @queenoftheworldisdead @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @mariahthelioness29 @donutloverxo @little-baby-vixen @mochamaniacbabe @brattycherubwrites @iam-laiya @whiskey-cokenfanfic @doloreshazes

——————————————————————————-

Bucky had never given you a reason to not trust him. He’d been nothing, but the perfect boyfriend now fiancé for the two years you’d been together. Sure it was a little difficult dating an Avenger mostly because you worried about him coming back to you, but still being with him was kind of perfect.

The first time you started to sort of question things was when a phone number fell out of his pocket while you were doing laundry. Some girls name written on a napkin. You didn’t want to jump to any conclusions especially since it’s not like he wasn’t meeting new people everyday because of work. Who knows it was probably nothing.

Then he came home all late that day smelling like vanilla. You know it was bad, but you tried to check his phone while he was sleeping. Not that it worked because your super assassin fiancé was a very light sleeper and woke up before you could even try.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, in that sleepy voice.

“Oh it’s nothing,” you said, playing it off by stroking his hair. You know you should have said something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

All he did was smile and kiss you before pulling you close. Like everything was fine. You know you should have asked him right then. The words had been on the tip of your tongue.

But you didn’t ask. Instead you let him roll on top of you before he started making out with you. Would a man that’s cheating be fucking your mouth with his tongue like that. Probably.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked with a sigh, putting his forehead to yours.

You shrugged, looking down at his mouth so you didn’t have to look him in the eye. “It’s nothing.” Then you out a fake smile on to really sell it.

“Come on,” he whispered. “You know I know you better than that. If somethings wrong you can tell me. Daddy’ll take care of you, Doll.”

You made the mistake of looking into his blue eye that seemed to be seeing into your soul. There was always this gentleness towards you. That he seemed to save for you especially.

“I’m fine,” you replied before rolling over on your side away from him. Bucky sighed again before wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Hey, so I’m busy tomorrow, but when I get home why don’t we do something?” He asked into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it. “Just the two of us?”

You nodded, but didn’t reply out loud because if you did he’d hear that you were crying. You’d rather not deal with it.

So the next day you went to get some stuff done. Grocery shopping and shit. On the way home you passed by this coffee shop, recognizing his car as some girl got into the passanger seat.

Your stomach felt like it was doing fucking somersaults on the way home. You tried to keep yourself busy. Not wanting to think about Bucky or his lying cheating face.

When the door opened, you could hear him set his keys down on the table beside the door. You were making dinner because you were hungry. He could worry about himself.

“Fuck it smells good in here, Baby,” he said, coming to hug you from behind before kissing your cheek.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead you continued to cook and even though he noticed how quiet you were, he didn’t let go of you.

“What? No hello?” He asked, kissing your neck.

You tried to shrug him off, but no you just had to be engaged to a super assassin who was strong as fuck.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head because you were pretty sure if you’d say anything you’d explode. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it. You were trying to keep an ounce of dignity instead of blowing up like your brain was telling you too. “Nothing.”

Bucky leaned up against the counter beside you, bringing your face up so he could look at you. “Baby, I know you better than that.” He tried to smile to get you to open up then it faltered when he saw that you were clearly not in the mood. “C’mon. Just tell me what’s up.”

“Nothing, James.” You turned off the stove because now you’d lost your appetite. As you tried to walk away he grabbed your hand.

At hearing his first name, he crinkled his nose. “Baby,” he whined all pouty, “please. I let it go last night, but you’ve never not talked to me. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’re supposed to be getting married in two months and you’re cheating on me.”

Bucky looked so taken aback. His face getting all scrunched up. “What?”

“Oh so now you don’t know what I’m talking about?” You scoffed. “I saw you.”

“Saw me doing what?” He scoffed out a laugh. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Bullshit!” You yelled. “You’re lying to me!”

His jaw clenched as you raised your voice. “Watch your tone,” he commanded. “I didn’t cheat on you. I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”

“Really? Well then who the fuck is Becca?” You finally asked.

Bucky pulled away and you finally turned to face him. “How did you...” he trailed off.

“So, it’s true. You’re cheating on me?” You asked with a sniffle.

He shook his head. “No! Of course not, Baby,” he said.

“You’re lying! I saw you, James. I fucking saw you with her!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Let’s just calm down so we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want you out.”

He shook his head. “No, Baby,” he said. “I know how this looks, but I promise it’s not like that. I’m not... I’m not cheating on you. I’d never.”

“Fine then explain.”

Bucky hesitated. Closing his eyes like he was trying to find the right words.

“If you don’t tell me then I want you out.”

It wasn’t like this was the first time you and Bucky had ever fought. This was just the first time you’d ever done this. Usually when he messed up, he’d buy you flowers or kiss you until you forgave him. This time you needed to let him know that none of that would work.

He scrunched up his face before finally looking at you. “Okay. Becca is...” he took a deep breath. “Becca’s my great granddaughter.”

You also finally understood what it meant for it to be so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Bucky’s eyes bore into yours as he gave his answer.

“Can we just sit and talk?” He asked.

You nodded and he turned off the stove so he could grab your hand to lead you over to the couch. He sat you down in his lap and you couldn’t help it as you started crying into his chest because you felt like the worlds biggest asshole.

“Hey, Baby, don’t cry,” he said. “Not like you could have known. Hell not like I knew until recently.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him with tears in your eyes. “We usually tell each other everything.”

“Because... I dunno I was waiting for the right time. It’s kind of hard to go to your fiancé and ‘go hey meet my great granddaughter, Baby.’” He chuckled before wiping your tears. “Or that I have a son and he’s seventy-six.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Bucky nodded and laughed. “I know right. It’s...” he sighed, “it’s so weird, but I’ve been hanging out with them and its been kind of great actually. Having a family. Hate that I didn’t get to see him grow up.”

“God I’m... such a bitch.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You would have never guessed,” he replied, placing a kiss to the side of your head. “So, yeah. Becca is my great granddaughter. I was picking her up from work. She’s seventeen.” He looked down then at you again. “I just... I wanna be in their lives. Make up for lost time.”

You nodded. “I get that.”

“I should have told you. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to get freaked out.”

“Bucky, I’d never get freaked out over something like that,” you said. “Things are different for you and I wanna be as understanding as possible.”

He smiled. “I know, but doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know.” You put your head into his neck. “God I’m such an asshole.”

“No you’re not. Any woman would have assumed the worst like you did. I didn’t give you any reason not to.”

Your lip trembled as tears fell from your eyes again. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“I know, Baby,” he whispered.

“So, how did you find out?” You asked.

“Becca came looking for me. Saw stuff about the Avengers and saw me. My son James, his mom told him all about me so...”

You smiled, but you were still all teary eyed from the way you’d talked to him just now. “I’m so happy for you, Baby.”

“Yeah, well, they’re your family now too. If you still wanna get married.”

“Of course I do! I was just... I was scared to lose you so I freaked out.”

Bucky kissed your cheek. “You’re never gonna lose me, Doll. Besides, if anything this all just made me wanna be with you more. All I can think about is making babies with you.”

You laughed. “You would.”

“It’s true. All this just made me realize how bad I wanna have a family with you. I just... I mean our wedding is two months away, would it be so bad if we started trying now?”

You shrugged and he smiled before leaning into kiss you.

“Tell me you don’t want me to put a baby in this pussy and I’ll back off until the wedding,” he whispered into your ear.

“Daddy, I...”

You could feel him growing harder against your ass as he started grinding you into him. Fuck he knew how to get you to that point. You hated how it took pretty much nothing for you to want him to fuck the shit out of you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear. “Tell me you wanna have my baby.”

You sighed so deeply because his breath against your year was making you feel fucking feral. “I want it.” It was like you couldn’t even stop yourself from saying it.

“What do you want. Tell Daddy what you want.”

You looked up at him with those big eyes. “I want you to put a baby in me.”

“Yeah? I wanna make you a mommy, Doll,” he said, before putting his metal hand around your neck as he leaned you into him. He helped you pull your legging down until you could kick them off. Then kissed your shoulder as he spread your legs. “You want Daddy to put a baby in this little pussy, Baby?” He asked now that he’d pushed your panties to the side so he could play with your clit.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, leaning back so you could connect your lips to his. He started doing that thing again where his tongue fucked your mouth.

All that plus with the way he was touching you was making you forget all about how embarrassed you felt for accusing him of such a terrible thing. You should know that your daddy would never hurt you like that.

“Gotta teach you a lesson now,” he said. “Don’t you ever accuse me of something like that again. I should fucking spank you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your pussy feeling all tingly from the way his fingers were rubbing you making you let out a moan. “Daddy!”

“That’s it, Slut. Don’t you ever threaten to take this pussy from me again. It’s mine.” He growled into your ear and it made your stomach tighten especially when he started nibbling on it.

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Good little slut,” he said. “You know better. This is mine.” Bucky’s fingers now dipped into your pussy making you let out a whine.

“Yes, Daddy!” You mewled as he stuffed your pussy with his thick fingers. Metal hand going from your neck to your tits.

“You’re lucky I can’t wait to fuck you or else I’d be punishing you, Doll,” he said as he groped you.

You leaned back so you could kiss him again. Reached between the two of you so you could take hold of his dick through his pants. Enjoying how hard he felt through the denim. “I know, Daddy.”

“You’re so lucky I wanna cum in this pussy instead.” Thats when he tore his hands out of you before forcing you to stand up. Bucky undid his pants, pushing them and his boxers off before pulling you back down.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking you down on his dick. Hands on your ass as he helped you move up and down. “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you whimpered. “All yours.”

Bucky grabbed the hem of your top so he could pull it over your head, watching as your tits bounced. “That’s right, Doll. Not gonna pull that shit again.”

You shook your head and then threw it back as you moaned. Bucky pushed you to the side against the couch before getting up so he could climb on top of you.

“Fucking love this juicy pussy,” he said. His metal arm coming to grab at your thigh as he bent your leg over his shoulder.

He thrusted in and out of you, shoving himself inside of you as his dick stretched you out. You tugged at his t-shirt that he hadn’t taken off. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Your head was bent back against the couch as you let out this low moan. “Fuck, Bucky!” Your eyes were watering as you started to feel your orgasm coming to you.

“That’s it, Baby, I know you want it. Want Daddy to cum in your pussy?”

You nodded as he got up so he could hold your throat again because he knew how much you loved it. “God, yes. I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” He groaned. “Gonna cum on Daddy’s dick?” He was all in your face.

You reached up so you could tug on his hair. “Yes! Fuck, please.”

“Good because I’m gonna cum in you. Daddy’s gonna gonna fill you up, Y/N.”

You cried out wrapping your legs around him as you came so hard. Maybe it was from all that bullshit and you almost ruining everything because fuck it felt so damn good. Especially with the way he was fucking you through it.

That was when he got closer to you. His balls slapping against your ass as he started getting really deep into you. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Daddy’s gonna cum in this pussy, Baby. I know that’s what you need, Baby. Need Daddy to keep you pregnant.”

“Uh huh,” you moaned.

“I’m gonna keep getting you pregnant for as long as you can. Make you have so many babies.”

You couldn’t help it as the noises you were making started getting louder. “Yes. Please.”

That’s when his hips stilled as he started to fill you. His seed flooding into your womb for the first time. He put his head into your neck once he started moving them again, trying to make sure he could give you ever last drop.

He laid there on top of you. Breathing all heavy before pressing kisses into your neck again. “Was that our first time without a condom?” He asked.

“Uh huh,” was all you could say. It was like you couldn’t move.

Bucky chuckled seeing you all frozen before yawning and getting off of you. He grabbed you so he could carry you to your room, cradling you in his arms. When he finally laid you down he pulled the comforter over your body, pretty much tucking you in.

He took his shirt off before getting in beside you, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you replied your brain feeling like it couldn’t think.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. You just made my mind into goo,” you grumbled.

Bucky smiled before kissing your nose. “Good.” He held you around your waist. “So,” he breathed, “what do you think about meeting everyone.”

“How much is everyone?” You asked with a smile, turning to him.

“There’s James. And, he had a son also named James and then he had a son named Kyle. He’s twenty-two.” Bucky laughed.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus.”

He was still laughing. “I know, right. And he looks just like me. It’s kinda scary.” But, there was this softness in his face. It was different than the one he gave you, but there was almost this pride you’d never seen him have before. “Then there’s Becca. She’s so much like me it’s terrifying. She even has a friend like Steve. It’s awful.”

This time you laughed with him. “Would it be bad if I met them?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been wanting you to, they’ve even been asking, but I just... I didn’t wanna freak you out about being a great grandma.”

You pouted, creasing your brow. “Baby, I know how strange your life is to say the least. I’ve kinda made peace with the idea that there’s going to be random shit popping up. Kinda what I signed up for when I agreed to marry an old man.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped, before he patted your butt. “You’re such a brat,” he said before kissing you. Then he pulled you away. “Wait I didn’t tell you about Noel and Kimmy.”

You laughed and then wrapped your arms around him as he told you about the two youngest kids. God you felt like such an asshole now. Maybe a blowjob later would make it up to him.

[kaijime]

picture perfect

includes. step-brother! hinata shoyo x f!reader

cw. step-cest, mentions of nudes, masturbation, blackmailing, toys [butt plug], fingering, use of pet name 'bunny', video recording, praise kink, vaginal penetration, creampie, theres a mirror?

wc. 2.1k

a/n. this is for @dilfhub's everything-cest collab, hope you like it!! also i might make a pt. 2 for this

hinata knows what you've been doing, the pictures you've been posting, and the videos you've been sharing for anyone to see, and he plans to use it for his own benefit.

tit started with atsumu showing him a picture of a girl online, 'some girl on onlyfans' he said, but as soon as hinata saw one picture, he was hooked on your body. he quickly asked atsumu for a link to your account because he couldn't get enough of you from just a few pictures.

that night when he finally arrived to his room he was eager to follow the link atsumu had sent him. he paid for the exclusive photos and delved into them.

the most recent one was a picture of a girl's body, posing in front of the mirror, a pastel pink bralette and thin, lacy panties adorned her figure. he could swear he recognized that phone case from somewhere, but he brushed it off as a casualty.

but as he scrolled through the gallery, he kept recognizing things from the background. a jewelry box, the bed sheets, some shoes on the floor.

and then it clicked in his mind.

your jewelry box, the one he'd seen you open thousands of times when he still lived in your parent's house. your bed sheets, he remembers the day you bought them, claiming this color would match your room aesthetic. your shoes, the one's he specifically remembered you wearing for your family reunion.

it was too specific to be a coincidence, but you wouldn't do this kind of thing, right? when he still lived in the house, you never seemed like that type of girl. you never invited any boys over, and you never wore such revealing clothes like the ones you wear in these pictures.

he's scrolled too far, and every single picture he's seen has only driven him to his position right now, cock in his hand, stroking himself to you. he didn't care if it was you anymore, he needs relief after seeing your body with those different poses, different underwear that made his mind run wild with thoughts of making you his.

but his hand around his cock isn't enough to satisfy him. now that he's convinced you took those photos of yourself, he only wants to be buried between your legs, he wants to see how much of his cock you can take before whining and pawing at his chest, moaning that its too much for you to handle.

as soon as he pictures you sprawled out on the bed beneath him, panting his name as he ruts into you, he's a goner. he cums quickly, thick ropes of his cum falling on his stomach and dripping down his toned body.

he makes a reminder to confront you about it the next time he sees you, which is conveniently right now as he stands in front of your bedroom door. now, he's not sure if he really wants to do this. what kind of step-brother would he be if he blackmailed his pretty little step-sister?

after spending the whole day with his family, he decides to stay at his old childhood house for the night, and the only thing he can think about is how pretty you'd look wearing the pretty lingerie set you wore in the last picture you posted. he knocks on the door once, twice, until he grows tired of waiting and opens the door, surprised to find out it was unlocked.

he doesn't know what he was expecting when he decided to open the door, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see you posing in front of the body length mirror, a frilly pair of panties adorning your hip and a lacy bra that barely covers anything. even though you're posing in the mirror, there are still other props sitting unused on your bed, bunny ears and a butt plug with a little fluff at the end, a bunny tail.

he stands on the door frame, not daring to move an inch as you stumble to cover yourself with a blanket. despite not moving much, he closes the door behind him and locks it, leaving you with a confused, blushing face.

you can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest in anticipation, waiting for his next move, too embarrassed to say anything yourself.

"you're beautiful" he mutters under his breath before slowly approaching you, caressing your arm and coaxing you to take off the blanket that covered you.

"what are you doing? y-you shouldn't-"

"i know what you were doing" he says, pulling the sheets from your hands and throwing you over his shoulder. he throws you on the bed and towers over you, reaching his hand over to find the bunny ears.

"were you planning on wearing these?" he asks, when he really thinks about it, you would look nice as his little bunny. he puts the ears on your head and runs his hand over your cheek, soft skin trembling under his touch. he could tell you were scared, yet you didn't put up a fight. "they'd look very nice on you"

he reaches over again, fidgeting with the little butt plug between his fingers. "you gonna take another picture in them?" he asks.

"wh-what are you talking about?" you ask, acting innocent to his accusations.

"don't lie to me" he says, flipping you over so you're laying on your knees, your flimsy panties doing little to cover up the skin of your ass, completely exposed to him.

"i-i don't-"

"c'mon, i've already seen all of your photos" he says, a warm blush creeping into your cheeks.

he knows.

you can't do anything but keen at his words, bucking your hips back towards him where he rubbed the plug against your puckered hole. "i've seen you" he continues "in your cute little lingerie" he runs his hands up and down your body, pressing at the curve of your ass. he just can't believe you're finally like this, laid beneath him just how he imagined. "you looked so pretty, i knew i had to make you mine when i saw you like that"

"we can't" you protest, trying your best to slap his hands away from your body, but instead he takes both of your wrists in one of his hands, using his free hand to insert a finger into your ass. he works you open slowly, thrusting one of his knuckles to fuck into you until you're ready to take the metal plug.

you mutter curses under your breath when he pulls his fingers away, only to be replaced with the hard metal as he pushes it in. "ah!" you exclaim, gasping when its finally all inside and he pets the fluffy tail.

"good girl" he praises while he toys with the tail. when he's done admiring your ass, he slides your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your folds.

"you got so wet from me playing with your ass?" he asks teasingly. "my little bunny"

the pet name makes you drip down your thighs and he notices, he can see that your hole is drooling with your essence, eager to be filled to the brim, and who was he to leave you all high and dry?

"don't play with me shoyo" you whine, squirming and struggling to get his hands off of you, feeble attempts to make him stop.

"i'll play with you all i want" he says "unless you want me to show them what a little slut they have as a daughter"

he's blackmailing you. you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, nothing to do except do whatever he wants. you shouldn't have posted those stupid pictures, and you curse to yourself for getting involved in such a stupid cashgrab.

"no..." you shift your hips closer to him, grinding against him in hopes it would change his mind.

he knew you'd cave in as soon as he threatened you, but he didn't expect you to be so receptive. when you grind your wet panties against his clothed cock, how can you expect him to hold back?

"god, you're gorgeous" he sighs, the feeling of your wetness on his fingers excites him, drives his crazy as he sucks on his fingers, reveling in your lovely taste.

he inserts two of his fingers into your clenching hole, imagining it was his cock instead. he grows harder by the minute, biting his lip to hold back his want for you, and he swears he could cum on the spot when you moan his name.

"shoyo, please!" you whine when he curls his fingers to hit that perfect spot that left your legs weak, barely able to keep you kneeling properly on the bed. "'m gonna cum" you warn him.

"not yet" he says, releasing your hands and spanking your ass, then he lightly pulls on the plug buried between your cheeks.

"fuck! p-please let me cum!" your pleas fall to deaf ears, he's focused on getting your phone from the nigh stand and pulling out the camera app. he starts recording you, zooming in the camera in on the sight of your drooling hole, and capturing all your noises in the video.

"cum, bunny" he orders. you don't hesitate to let go of the built up pleasure, cumming around his digits and coating them with your slick juices.

"f"-fuck!" you say between sobs, tears streaming down your dainty face as he takes his fingers out. he pulls them apart, showing off the string of juices that cling to his fingertips to the camera.

he stops the recording and grabs your hips, rough calloused hands leaving dark marks that would probably be visible tomorrow.

"did you like that?" you can't even reply, still lost in your own pleasure and clenching onto the sheets. you're so buried in your mind, you don't even notice him taking his cock out of his pants and positioning it to your entrance. he covers it in your slick, using it as lubricant to slide into you.

he fills you up perfectly, leaving you gasping for air when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. you're stretched out beyond your limit, cursing under your breath at the burn he sends throughout your whole body.

shuddering under his grip, he starts his pace, rutting his hips into you at slow pace. he treats you so carefully, as if you might break if he makes a wrong move. you're a porcelain doll for him, a porcelain doll that clenches around his cock deliciously every time he hits your sweet spot.

"doing so good for me, bunny" that nickname again, it drove you crazy.

you pant and bury your face deeper into the pillow, trying to suppress you moans from him. you didn't want to give him the benefit of your moans, but he makes it so hard when he angles his thrusts to hit your g-spot over and over, prompting more and more sounds for him to drink in.

"taking me so well in your little hole" he keeps praising "this greedy pussy was made just for me" he pulls you closer with a hand to your tummy and drags it lower, low enough to roll small circles to your clit. you can't help but buck your hips against him, driving him insane with the way your little tail jiggled every time he thrusted into you.

he grips one of your cheeks with his hands, spreading you open to get a better view of the little plug, pushed neatly into your tiny hole.

"sh-sho- fuck! 'm cumming, 'm cumming!" you exclaim, your walls pulling him deeper into your cunt.

he almost cums along with you, but he remembers to take your phone and start recording again, capturing your hole as it clenches around his cock in the frame.

a few curses and he's lost in the pleasure, barely conscious enough to hold the phone correctly as he spills everything inside your tight hole. he records your trembling figure, and he puts the phone closer to your cunt, focusing in on the sight of him pulling out his cock and his cum seeping down your thighs, oozing out of your little hole as you pant and drool all over the picture.

the last scene he captures with the camera is the one of him pulling you up, positioning your body to have you kneeling on the bed, facing the mirror. he records your fucked out body, struggling to stay up and look towards the mirror.

its a sight enough to make anyone cum. its a sight enough to make atsumu cum as he sits in his bed, imagining its his cum that drips down your legs and makes a lovely puddle of slick on the bed. he sits in disbelief as he watches the next video, because he recognizes the red head that kneels behind the fucked out girl, caressing the skin of her hips lovingly.

he definitely has to talk to shoyo when he's back from his trip.

© kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[mellowswriting]

Hey I saw your requests are open! I love the quarantine series! I’ve been on a Marcus pike kick lately and I’ve been super stressed about college and my work load trying to graduate😩 I’d love to hear your interpretation of Marcus when his girl is going through this cause you know he’s 💕that guy💕 - how he’d help you relax and everything... maybe even some smut if you’re feeling up to it 👀

Take a Break

pairing || Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

summary || Marcus helps you relax after college stress

word count || 2,369

warnings || Explicit Sexual Content (fingering, praise kink, soft dom!Marcus, allusions to p in v sex), stressed out reader, Marcus to the rescue, domestic fluff, ‘good girl’, no use of y/n

a/n || As a college student who is also ready to explode from school stress, this was cathartic as hell to write. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Your cursor hovered over the submit button. This research paper had been the center of your academic focus for nearly three months and had taken up the majority of your energy for far too long. Once that damn paper was submitted, you could breathe easy for a while and not have to see statistics and graphs in your sleep anymore. So you took a deep breath and hit the button, relishing in the relief that washed over you - for approximately three seconds.

There were still assignments to be worked on, textbook chapters to read and take notes on, and you just wanted to throw your laptop into the ocean instead. Fuck it all. In that moment, all of your progress and hard work and the finish line that was so damn close really didn’t seem to matter. You would rather hide under your blankets for the last month of the semester than even think about philosophy notes or biology tests.

But you couldn’t.

There was no way in hell you were going to let the last two years of hard work and a solid grade point average go down the drain, especially when you had a summer well on its way where you could relish in not having academic responsibilities. You rubbed a hand down your face with a frustrated sigh and put your textbook down on your desk - maybe just a bit harder than necessary, because the door creaked open a few moments later.

“How’s the paper going, honey?” Oh, Marcus. Your sweet, sweet Marus, who’s words were already making tears of frustration prick your eyes.

“It’s finished. I just turned it in.” You said, your voice devoid of the usual pride that followed a well-written assignment, and flipped open the book in front of you.

Marcus’s hands fell to your shoulders as he stood behind your chair and started rubbing, those strong fingers working the tension from your muscles. “What are you doing then?”

“I still have a ton of shit that needs to get done. Notes and a ton of reading, and I have to study -” You cut yourself off with a heaved breath. The stress was getting to you, you could recognize that, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the anxiety of impending deadlines, even if you still had plenty of time and wiggle room to get them finished.

Marcus paused. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you like this, and he wasn’t about to discount what you were feeling by telling you to relax or something else equally as stupid. “Okay, how about you come have lunch with me? You need a break. You can’t be productive when you’re burnt out. Maybe we can talk it out, help you come up with a plan.”

It took a moment for you to convince yourself that it was okay to leave your desk, to focus on something that wasn’t your classes for a little bit. When you nodded, Marcus smiled at you bright enough to melt some of the frustration. Unbeknownst to you, he had a little something planned.

If there was anything true in the world, it was that Marcus Pike was the best man the world had ever seen. The stress you were feeling had been building up for the past week, growing heavier with each moment that it went unchecked, and he could tell. It was obvious in the way you held yourself, in the way that all the sleep in the world didn’t help the tired look in your eyes. He knew he could do nothing to help with the actual classwork itself, but he could do whatever it took to ease the stress.

So the moment you essentially chained yourself to your desk, Marcus set about with his plan. First, he tackled the housework. He cleaned the kitchen and living room until they were spotless, grateful that your headphones blocked out the sound of the vacuum and kept his little project a secret. Then he cooked up your favorite meal and lit your candles in the living room, leaving the space warm and homey.

The surprise on your face was worth all of the effort. You buried your face in his shirt to hide the tears of appreciation that sprung into your eyes, your fingers fisted in the fabric as you tried not to full on cry at his sweet gesture. You sniffled a quiet laugh before you wiped the wetness away from your face.

“God, what would I do without you?” You pulled him close for a kiss, one he reciprocated eagerly. Those big, warm hands of his settled on your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweet little circles against your cheekbones.

“I find myself asking the same thing everyday I get to wake up next to your pretty face.” He whispered against your lips and gave you one last kiss before he guided you to sit on the couch with your soft throw blanket tucked around your shoulders.

“Marcus… you didn’t have to do all this…” You murmured as he handed you a plate and settled in next to you with his own.

“Of course I did,” He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your calf. “Besides, this isn’t even everything.”

You captured his hand in your own. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you, too.” Marcus chirped with a smile, lifting your joined hands to kiss your knuckles. “Now eat up, you need your energy.”

Never in your life had you felt more appreciated, more taken care of, and apparently this wasn’t all he had planned. He finished eating before you - you swear, that man practically inhales food - and he drew your feet into his lap to gently massage the arches. It didn’t take him long to ease the stress of the looming workload. Somehow, he always managed to find the perfect words to remind you just how capable you are and that you were on the right track.

You set your plate down on the coffee table and slid closer to Marcus’s side, all too ready to curl up with your lover and spend the rest of the day soaking in the bliss that flowed from him, but he was quick to stand and urge you to your feet. The moment of confusion dissipated when he led you to the bathroom, where he had laid out the makings of your favorite stress reliever - a bubble bath.

“Oh, Marcus.” You sighed as he began filling the huge tub, already stripping out of your clothes in excitement. “You better get in there with me.”

“But this is supposed to be about you, not me.” Marcus said with a small shrug.

“I’ll enjoy it even more if I have my man with me,” You purred, stepping into his space in only your bra and underwear to press a lingering kiss to his lips. The surprised hum he gave you made a little thrill fly through you. “Please, baby?”

“Anything for you.” Marcus smiled as he reached around to undo your bra and pull the straps down your arms, moving on to curl his fingers under the hem of your underwear and tug them down as well. He kissed your thigh when you moved to step out of them.

Marcus yanked his clothes off with no flair and stepped into the steaming bath, settling into the water so quickly that it damn near sloshed over the sides of the tub. He reached for you and you couldn’t help but smile. It was precious, the way he guided you into his lap amidst the bubbles and pulled you close against his chest.

Little kisses were peppered along your shoulder and up your neck, the heat already working at your sore back. Marcus’s hands slid up your belly, cupped beneath your breast to hold you close, and the combination of his presence with the heat and soft floral scent of the bubbles had your worries slipping into the background.

“I missed this.” You murmured as you melted against him, your head lolled back on his shoulder. It had been far too long since you felt peace like that. Marcus’s fingers rubbed soft patterns into your skin and you were in heaven.

“Me too,” He kissed your temple and you could feel the smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Marcus.” You looked up at him. He seemed just as relaxed as you felt, his head tilted back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed. “You make me feel sane in the midst of all this stress. I don’t know what I would do without your support. You’re such a good man.”

Marcus whined low in his throat. Your praise always did something to him, lit a fire in his belly and made him want to squirm with happiness. All he ever wanted was to make you happy, make you feel as cherished and loved as he possibly could, at least as much as you made him feel. Normally he was good with his words. He could wax poetic about how much he loved you and how he was the luckiest man alive with you by his side, but your sweetness left him dumbstruck.

Since his mouth couldn’t form the words he wanted to say, he used it to lavish your bare skin with kisses as he rubbed at your tense muscles, your skin slick with the soapy water. He could feel the small moan he worked from your body and smirked - he absolutely lived for those little sounds, the ones that told him he was making you feel relaxed and happy. Your hands slipped down his thighs that bracketed your body and began mimicking the circles he massaged you with.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one helping you relax, sweetheart?” Marcus teased despite the way his cock was slowly hardening at the small of your back, only provoked further by the light drag of your nails along his thighs.

“Can you think of a better way to relax?” You teased right back as you arched back slightly to grind against him, using your hands on his thighs to support yourself. Marcus inhaled sharply and you could feel the subtle way his hips pressed up to meet your movements. Need began to build low in your belly.  

“Are you sure?” Marcus rasped and at your nod, his hands slipped around to your front, one hand settling low between your hips to firmly hold you against him, the other trailing down to cup your sex. Your low gasp made him hum, a dark tone that you recognized from those moments he took you apart piece by piece in the comfort of your bed. “Are you feeling needy, baby?”

“Always need you.” You spread your thighs, bracing your feet between the sides of the tub and his legs to support your desperate little grinds against his fingers. His middle finger curled to glide up to your clit but he didn’t give you the friction you craved, that damn tease. “C’mon, make me feel good. Please?”

The desperate quality your voice had taken on was enough to make Marcus moan against your neck, his tongue shooting out to wet his lips before he whispered in your ear. “I’m gonna make you come before I get you in that bed. A little reward for all your hard work, hm?”

Before you could even whine out your need for his promised reward, he finally began moving his finger against your clit and pleasure flooded you, leaving you to meet his movements with little circles of your waist. Marcus would usually tease you at least a little before delving in and drowning you in pleasure until your legs were shaking and your mind was left blank, but he seemed to be in a giving mood after all of your efforts. Every pass of his fingers over your clit had that tension pull tighter, your pussy tightening around nothing. You ached for something to fill you, his fingers, his cock, you didn’t care. The relief of pleasure after so much stress had your release building faster than you were used to, and your hands fumbled for purchase to keep you grounded to reality as Marcus worked you closer and closer to orgasm.

One hand clutched at his wrist, desperate to keep him right where you had him, and the other found itself buried in Marcus’s hair. He angled his head to give your better access, letting you grab at him to be your anchor, kissing up your neck and placing his lips right at your ear.

“Good girl,” He rumbled, chuckling at your sweet little gasp. “Such a good girl for me. You gonna cum all over my fingers, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. That's it.”

“Oh god, Marcus…” You gasp in that pleading tone that made something possessive bloom in his belly and he redoubled his efforts, taking your earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly. “Fuck!”

Water sloshed over the sides of the tub with the intense way you jerked against him, your orgasm cracking through you like a sharp flash of lightning, arcing and splintering up your spine and leaving you wrapped in a warm haze. You trembled against his chest, your legs snapping closed around his hand as he slowed his movements until his fingers were completely still. The warm water eased you even further into that sweet headspace of your afterglow, made more sweet by the kisses and praise your lover pressed into your skin.

“You still with me?” Marcus murmured and you looked up at him with that dazed look he absolutely adored. At the sight of your pursed lips, he leaned down and kissed you, slow and languid as he let you find yourself again. Wandering hands helped ease you back down to earth, his strong hands working at your already loose muscles. “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

You whined quietly at his praise, curling closer for more kisses and affection, only to whine again when he pulled away. “Please?”

Marcus chuckled. “Fine, but I’m getting you in that bed in a few minutes. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @sarahjkl82-blog @a-skov @himbotroy @marvelousmermaid 

[cake-writes]

No Vacancy (3/5)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Story Warnings: Both Bucky and Reader are gonna get kind of dark in this, so… Dark Fic (I guess?), Very Dubious Consent, Somnophilia (sex with a sleeping partner – and it’s gonna be more than once), Breeding Kink, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Hair-Pulling, Visible Marks, Breathplay, Throatfucking, Restraints, Subspace, Choking, Spanking, Degradation, Masturbation, Angst, Anxiety, Feels, Mutual Pining, VERY OBVIOUSLY 18+

Summary: You and Bucky have been on so many missions together, you’ve lost count. How is it that you’ve never shared a bed until now?

A/N: NEW WARNINGS so have a look just in case there’s something you don’t want to read. i also made a moodboard. other than that... heh. enjoy, my fellow harlots. 🙈 

Part Two / Master List

The devil on your shoulder tries to frame it as a confession.

The angel tries to claim it’s a sign of a guilty conscience.

I pressured you into sleeping with me, didn’t I?

Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s both.

Pressure. You should have said force. You encouraged him – took advantage of him – spurred him on with pleasured gasps and desperate pleas and god, you feel so full. He’ll be dripping out of you for days after.

It’s wrong.

You should have stopped him. He couldn’t consent – but the memory turns you on.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Just knowing how easily he can overpower you even while he’s asleep leaves your body burning with a certain kind of heat you’ve never felt before. Not to this degree. You’ve always known that he’s enhanced, of course, but until last night, you’ve never seen his strength so up close and personal – never experienced it firsthand like that, and now, it’s all you can think about. He’s all you can think about, and he doesn’t even know what he’s done.

It’s debauchery. It’s delirium.

His hand pressing your face into the pillow – you couldn’t breathe.

His cock stretching you out so perfectly – you couldn’t think.

His cum filling you to the brim – you couldn’t stop him. Or at least that’s what you try to tell yourself, but it’s a lie. You didn’t even try.

You shouldn’t think about him like this. You shouldn’t want him like this.  

But you do.

The morning is spent tiptoeing around him, like he’s a grenade ready to explode at any given moment. It’s evident that Bucky doesn’t remember a thing about the night before by the way he interacts with you: careful, guarded, like maybe you’re the grenade.

You know you should tell him, but you don’t. 

The secret you keep is the grenade, and when the pin is pulled, you don’t know what will remain. You’re scared that he’ll hate you, but you’re not ready to consider that he won’t.

So you confess in a bout of anxiety, instead, because your conscience is muddled and things are weird and you can’t even act right around him anymore.

You’re suffocating.

You shouldn’t think about him like this. You shouldn’t want him like this.

But you do.

He wanted to sleep with you. That’s what he said, but in that moment, it’s crystal clear that you’re not on the same page. The sleeping with you mean is vastly different to the sleeping with he means.

There’s tension. There’s never been tension before. It feels like you’re walking on eggshells, and you hate it. You hate the way he puts you on a pedestal half the time and treats you like a friend for the rest. You hate that the only time he’s serious with you is when you’re joking around. You hate it.

Why can’t he just be honest?

Why can’t you?

It’s overcast outside – downright miserable, really, with rain every ten minutes and you with no wet-weather gear. Washington State is dreary at the best of times, but now it’s even worse. It reflects your state of mind; the storm clouds are your inner conflict, and every clap of thunder signifies a punishment for yourself for wanting this, wanting him, wanting more.

You have to tell him.

As Bucky pulls the beater into the parking lot at the drugstore, the rain finally lifts for the umpteenth time. It feels like a blessing, or maybe it’s a sign.

You slide your hand into his as the two of you walk inside, something you’ve done too many times to count whilst undercover: a fact further proven when his fingers lace with yours so easily, so comfortably, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And it is.

When the bomb drops, it won’t be anymore.

“Cold meds are over here,” Bucky says as he leads you in that direction – but you don’t follow, and he stops to glance down at your hands like he’s only just realized what you’ve done. Then his eyes turn back up to your face, and in those pretty baby blues you watch as the confusion turns to suspicion, and your stomach turns to knots. “What are you doing?”

“I—I have to tell you something,” you stammer, hesitant, unsure. Your voice wavers and there’s a lump in your throat that makes it difficult to swallow.

You’re nervous. Of course you are. You’re not ready to pull the pin.

“We’re not together on this mission,” Bucky informs you, plainly, like you don’t already know that. You know what he means by together; you’re not a couple. You know that, too. It’s painfully obvious that you aren’t, now.

You shouldn’t think about him like this. You shouldn’t want him like this.

But you do.

“We could be,” you suggest, to which he sighs in annoyance and pulls his hand free.

“Get your meds,” he says, tone clipped. “You can tell me in the car.”

And then he’s gone, and you’re left feeling even more uneasy than before.

By the time you get back outside, it’s raining again. Thankfully, the car’s unlocked, and you jump inside to find that Bucky has his seat reclined and his hands are tucked behind his head like a makeshift pillow. The radio’s tuned to some station you don’t recognize, but you’re in the boonies, now, so that’s really no surprise. A bit of static distorts the song that’s trying to play – something classic rock, but you can’t really place it through the low volume.

As you pull the door shut, he greets you with a sharp, “Took you long enough.”

He’s pissed off, and the way he eases his seat back up is further testament to that – slow, but precise. Calculated. Vibranium fingers tap the steering wheel, like he’s waiting for an apology.

Great.

The pharmacist just had to grill you about your sexual history, because this really is the boonies and you’re a single, unmarried woman looking for contraception. It took a lot longer than it should have, so much that you’re in a mood now, too.

“Sorry,” you mutter, locking the seatbelt into place. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, or,” you gesture to Bucky’s general vicinity, “whatever the hell this is.”

You’re already so tired and it’s only eleven o’clock.

That’s when you finally meet his eyes – just long enough to see that sassing him was probably a bad idea, and predictably it pokes the bear.

“If anyone’s acting off,” he begins, voice sharp, turning the engine back on, “It’s you. Don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, but figure your shit out. We’re on a mission.”

You and Bucky have argued before, but not like this. This is personal. The fact that he used your words from your earlier spell of anxiety is proof of that.

As if you need him to tell you what your priorities should be. You already know.

“Roger that, Sarge,” you bite out sarcastically, rummaging around in the plastic bag to rip open the pill package. “I’ll get right on that.”

Then you shove the pill into your mouth and take a swig of water from your water bottle, before you slam it back down into the cup holder a little harder than necessary. Bucky lets out a long, slow breath as he shifts the car into gear, and you don’t even have to look at him to know you’re trying his patience.

Good. He’s trying yours, too.

Crumpling up the bag and its contents, you toss it haphazardly into the back seat and pop your feet up onto the dash in a fit of irritation. That’s when Bucky turns up the radio, and you finally hear the lyrics over the static:

We are all just prisoners here of our own device—

Of course it’s Hotel California. As if you can feel any more trapped than you already do.

You’re suffocating.

It’s clear you won’t be having any more conversation until you arrive at your next destination.

It’s clear that Bucky doesn’t care what you wanted to say, or maybe he’s forgotten. Not that it matters.

Up until now, the confession burned hot on the tip of your tongue – a desperation to tell him about what happened last night, or maybe even an apology, but not anymore.

He was the one who woke you up.

He was the one who held you down.

As far as you’re concerned, you’re the victim here. Not him.

So you don’t say a thing. Instead you shut your eyes and hope to god he didn’t get you pregnant.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave—

The rest of the day unfolds with even less camaraderie between the two of you.

There’s friction, so much that you’re about ready to scream by the time you make it back to the motel. Maybe a little friendly fire would be sufficient, because you’ve had enough. 

Steve would understand. He knows what a pain in the ass his best friend can be. 

Bucky doesn’t get the door for you this time, not like he usually does; instead he walks right into your shared room and leaves you standing out in the rain. That pisses you off even more, and you slam the door shut behind you so hard that the window next to it clatters in its pane: old, decrepit fibreglass.

You’re lucky that the whole thing didn’t shatter. It’s only hanging on by a literal thread.

That observation sobers you up a little. You can’t keep on like this.

“What are you, a bratty teenager?” Bucky barks at you, and the way he rounds on you so suddenly sends a jolt of excitement straight to your core. “Do you want the rain getting in, princess?”

The last word is spat at you with such vitriol, it makes your jaw drop.

He’s angry. He’s pissed off. He’s had it with you, and it turns you on.

What the hell is wrong with you?

You’ve felt like this all day – just blamed it on your anger because it’s easier to focus your energy into that than on the fact that you want him. That you always have. That you always would, now that you know what he’s capable of.

It’s wrong.

“No,” is what you finally answer; timid, almost, and your shoulders slump in defeat. You can’t keep on like this. It’s only seven o’clock – less than half a day of fighting with him and you’re already over it. 

You’re exhausted. And so is he, by the looks of it.

He’s drenched from the rain. The carpet where he’s standing is damp with water, and his clothes haven’t fared much better. You’re sure you’re in a similar state – t-shirt and jacket soaked through, not to mention your jeans, and you’re dripping water into a matching puddle on the floor.

There’s a pause while Bucky runs a hand through his wet hair, before he mutters under his breath, “Christ.”

The rainwater only adds to the atmosphere, of course, and although that certain musty, damp smell isn’t quite as bad as the guest services office, it’s still very present. It tickles your nostrils, makes you sneeze, and then you can’t help but shiver because of the bitter cold.

Bucky’s hand on your shoulder is all the warning you get before he shoves you toward the bathroom – not gently, but not too roughly, either. Just enough to make you stumble.

You open your mouth to rip him a new one for it, because you’re feeling defensive over how much you like it, being pushed around so easily, being put in your place – but he beats you to the punch.

“Go have a hot shower.” The way he says it makes it sound like an order, and you shiver again when your thoughts go where they shouldn’t. “Your cold’s gonna get worse if you don’t warm up.”

That’s right. Your excuse from this morning.

“Fine,” you snap, “but I’m not going because you told me to. It makes sense.”

He sighs in frustration and picks up his towel from this morning off the back of a chair – uses it to dry his hair. “Fine. Just go. I don’t want you getting sick.”

He doesn’t have to say how much of a pain he thinks it’ll be if you do. The implication is enough.

So you shoot him another dirty look and stomp into the bathroom, feeling pissed off and turned on and fed up with this stupid fucking mission and awful fucking town and this shitty fucking motel. The old shower creaks and shudders when you turn the handle, and it takes a couple of minutes to heat up, but soon the hot water is a balm and you’re sighing in relief.

That feels much better.

When you take a little extra time to relieve yourself of the day’s frustrations, too, those happy sighs turn to breathy moans, and you can only assume they’re being drowned out by the water – but they’re not.

The walls are paper thin.

Not that it matters.

The shower leaves you feeling a lot more refreshed.

As you exit the bathroom, towelling dry your hair, you feel so much better. Clearer. Even if it’s wrong to use last night as a fantasy, it still takes the edge off – lets you concentrate more on the mission than Bucky, which is the entire reason the two of you are here.

Problem is, he’s staring at you like that.

Her mind is tiffany-twisted—

Hotel California immediately dies in your throat; you hadn’t even realized you were singing it to yourself until the look on his face made you stop.

“What?” you ask, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Bare. You’ve got a towel around yourself, but it’s not enough. There’s something about the look in his eyes that’s dark, hungry, and it makes your throat go dry. Makes you feel like you’re on display.

Bucky clears his throat and pulls himself to his feet; he’d been sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning more like, probably waiting for you to finish your shower so he can have one himself. “Nothing.”

And then he pushes past you into the bathroom – leaves you alone with your thoughts.

By the time he’s done, you’re already asleep. Or maybe that’s just what you want him to think.

It’s cold.

You must have fallen asleep at some point; you don’t know when, but the digital clock on your bedside table glows bright red in the darkness – 01:12 – and you stifle a yawn. You’re still exhausted, not to mention sore from being put through the ringer over the last day and a half. Your body’s still aching from last night, never mind the soreness between your legs.

The blankets shift beside you, just a little, and you freeze – but Bucky doesn’t do more than roll onto his back. Judging by the steady rise and fall of his chest, he’s fast asleep.

It’s like last night was a dream. Like it never even happened.

He’s a light sleeper, usually, but he doesn’t wake even when you go to get a drink of water, nor does he stir when you climb back into bed, half-scrambling to get back under the sheets and away from the autumn chill in the air.

It’s freezing, but you can feel the warmth radiating off of him even from your side of the bed.

“Bucky,” you whisper.

No response.

So you reach out hesitantly, nervously, like he’ll lash out at you for even trying – but of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t know. Your hand splays across his shoulder in a gentle caress, and it’s only when you finally have his too-hot skin beneath your fingertips that you realize how cold you really are. Your fingers are like ice.

Or maybe it’s just an excuse for you to get closer.

Carefully, you lift his arm just enough to slide underneath. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt and your cheek rests just beside; he’s warm, so warm, and your eyelids instinctively flutter shut because god, he smells good. Sandalwood and musk and everything him, just like last night, only stronger, more concentrated, right from the source.

That’s when the fire between your legs starts to burn. You almost wish it didn’t. You shouldn’t think about him like this. You shouldn’t want him like this, but you can’t escape it.

Last night did happen, and it’s something you’ll never, ever forget.

You shift to peer up at him in the darkness, but his breathing stays just as even – just as steady.

“Bucky.”

It’s not a whisper anymore, but it’s not so loud, either. Your voice is rough from sleep. That’s all.

His brows knit together, and for a moment you think you’ve woken him – but then his face relaxes again. He’s still asleep.

Your hand smooths along the planes of his chest, slowly, as if to savour the feel of his muscles under your fingertips; and then it slides lower, to his abdomen, and your heart starts to race.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He’s so strong, so ripped, so fucking attractive and you just can’t help yourself because you’ve never touched him like this. You shouldn’t be touching him like this.

It’s wrong.

Your hand dips lower still, to the waistband of his sweatpants, and you swallow thickly.

Another glance up at his face – he’s still asleep.

You should stop. You shouldn’t do this.

But you do.

Your palm brushes against him through the thick cotton and fleece of his sweats, and your heart skips a beat because he’s hard.  It spurs you on, gives you the courage to wrap your fingers around him, pump him once, twice—

And then you’re on your back, with him on top of you and cold vibranium fingers digging into the flesh of your neck.

You can’t breathe.

There it is again, that expression that makes your heart sink in realization and your core throb in muscle memory. He’s not here. Not really. Those pretty baby blues of his are blank, emotionless, and a cold sweat breaks out over your skin when you gather that he might actually hurt you this time.

“Buck—” You choke out, but you can’t breathe. “Bucky—”

He’s too strong, too powerful, too good at what he does. He has your arms pinned down with the way he’s straddling your upper body, and he’s far too heavy for you to push him off.

You’re trapped.

Only when your vision starts to go a little spotty does he finally let go, and you gasp and cough for air – at least until you feel the vibranium trail up your neck and along your cheek, and suddenly you’re staring up at him with baited breath as he drags his thumb against your lips. When he dips it inside to feel the wetness of your tongue, you shiver.

You like this.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He says something in Russian, then, but you don’t know what it means. Probably should have taken Natasha up on her offer to teach you way back when. Not that it matters.

At your lack of response, he grips your chin to the point that it’s almost painful. Almost.

It turns you on.

Then he repeats himself, a little more firmly this time.

“Da,” is all you can manage, a breathy whisper, because ‘yes’ is the only Russian you know. Problem is, you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to.

You soon find out when he lets go of your chin in favour of burying his hand in your hair, to pull your head forward; and with his free one, he pulls down his sweats just enough to free himself, let you come face to face with his cock. All eight inches of him, thick and hard and leaking precum.

The breath leaves your lungs with a whoosh.

He says a single word, and you don’t have to understand the language to know what he means.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, first, and then you glance up at his face, like maybe this is the dream and he’ll snap right out of it. Then again, you’re not really sure that you want him to. The desire coursing through your veins feels like a bushfire, turning any rational thought in your mind to ash.

It’s not a dream. He’s not awake.

It’s wrong, and you don’t care.

You lean forward slightly to take the head into your mouth, and then you give it a tentative little suck. He’s thick, so much that you know your jaw will be aching by the end, but the salty taste of him is intoxicating, it’s addicting, and you can’t get enough. Your tongue swirls around the head, as if to collect every drop of precum he’s offered you – and then you take him further.

About halfway down is what triggers your gag reflex, and you quickly pull away to cough.

A mistake.

He uses his tight grip on your hair to shove your mouth right back onto him – and then he pushes past your tonsils, and your nose is buried in his curls.

Sandalwood. Sweat. Bucky.

You gag once, twice, feel your throat constrict around him, but he doesn’t let up – just makes you take every inch of him until you feel like you’re about to pass out for a second time. Survival instinct has struggling to push him away, has your fingernails digging into the backs of his thighs, has you drawing blood but you don’t even notice – the lack of oxygen’s already gone to your head.

It’s debauchery. It’s delirium.

You like this. You like it so much that your panties are soaked through.

By the time he pulls away, you feel a little dizzy, but you have half a mind to beg for more.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Each gulp of air feels like a blessing, one that he’s given you, that he’s allowed you to have and you look up at him again through half-lidded eyes as if to say thank you.

Then his cock’s all the way down your throat again, and your vision blurs with tears: a physiological reaction from gagging and coughing, nothing more. You’re not scared, no – you’re turned on. So turned on that you can’t think straight anymore.

You’re losing it.

When he finally relents, you rasp, “Fuck me.”

It’s in English, but he seems to understand just fine.

He lets go of your hair and moves off of you so that you can catch your breath. Your cheeks are wet, and radiating heat – but you don’t notice the latter until cold metal fingertips come back up to brush away your tears.

You feel dazed. High. Floating, and you never want to come down.

Clarity slowly comes as your breathing returns to normal, but everything still feels like a fever dream.

“Clothes.”

Another one-word order, in English this time, and you comply like you’re on autopilot because he’s him and your body’s buzzing with endorphins. Your t-shirt hits the ground first, followed by your pajama bottoms – but when you reach for your underwear, you notice that your hands are trembling. That’s how excited you are.

It’s wrong.

Not that it matters, because you discard your panties quickly, too.

“Spread your legs.”

After leaning back on your elbows, you do so – and when he finally touches you there, your head lulls back. Two warm fingers spread you open like he’s checking to make sure you can handle what he’s going to give you. You’re not sure that you can, now, but hell if you don’t want to try.

When he removes them, a glistening string of wetness follows – and then it breaks. Some part of you does, too.

His arms hook around your thighs before he pulls you forward, just enough to line you up where he wants you. You yelp in surprise at the suddenness of the action, but it doesn’t faze him; he just sluices the head of his cock through your folds, and then he pushes in.

No warning. No preparation.

You don’t need it anyway.

The first thing you notice is that you’re sore, an observation soon forgotten the further he slides inside. The stretch of him feels different, now – better, because you’re already so soaked and the saliva only adds to the slickness. The position he takes you in bears a resemblance to missionary, with him on his knees, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning because it’s so good.

That doesn’t last long. The last couple of inches sink into you all at once with a snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” you whine, holding onto the pillow above your head like it’ll ground you, maybe keep you from losing yourself.

It won’t.

With his fingers digging into your hips, you’re not sure how long you’ll last. It’s a grip that ensures full control of your body, something only further proven when he uses it to pull you off of his cock. Then he shoves you right back down onto him, forces you to take every inch of him inside of you, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

It feels too good. He feels too good.

You’re losing it.

The pace he sets isn’t gentle, but you don’t want that anyway. Not now. Not anymore.

Skin audibly slaps against skin as he fucks you – and that’s exactly what it is. He’s fucking you. He’s fucking the life out of you, rough, brutal, and there’s nothing admirable about it. It’s not the kind of sex that they show in the movies; it’s the kind that warps your mind, distorts your senses, makes you feel like you have only one purpose: this.

It’s carnal. It’s instinct.

You need to feel him blow.

It’s addicting, watching the sweat roll down his muscular chest. It’s exhilarating, seeing the furrow of his brow as he concentrates. It’s shameless, the way your breasts bounce with every punishing thrust, and you know he notices when his fingertips tweak a nipple.

Every part of you is exposed to him like this. Raw. Debased.

His.

It only sends you higher when you see the bruises on your hips.

You’re losing it.

And then he leans forward onto his forearms, caging you in – and it’s intimate. His forehead touches yours, his nose brushes yours, and you shudder because it’s not real.

Every part of you is exposed to him except for that.

So you pull him closer, giving him no choice but to bury his face in your neck, and it’s there he sucks a bruise; he leaves a mark, a claim, a scarlet letter on your skin.

It’s wrong, but it almost feels right. Almost – but it’s off.

The suddenness of him slamming into your g-spot draws you out of your head and back into the present. Even if it’s not real, he still knows how to play your body like an instrument, and he soon has you dangling over the edge, whimpering, begging, ready to implode. His fingers are in your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s saying things – things in Russian – things you can’t understand, but it doesn’t matter.

None of it matters. 

None of it is real.

When the pace changes, your ankles lock around his waist. He’s close.

“Come inside me,” you gasp, or maybe it’s a plea.

His hips stutter, then, and when he shoves it in as far as he can go, you fall.

It’s debauchery. It’s delirium.

His cock throbs, and that’s when you can feel it, the warmth, the heat – you feel each pulse as he spills inside of you, every hot rope of cum as he fills you to the brim. You’re clenching down so tightly around him, it’s impossible not to feel it. It’s impossible not to lose yourself. It’s impossible not to break.

When he bites into the tender junction of your neck and shoulder, you see stars. It’s a mark, a bruise, a delicate mixture of pleasure and pain, and his teeth leave your skin a reminder for the morning—

You’re his, inside and out.

If only.

Part Four

[league-of-thots]

YeeHawks

Pairing: Hawks x female reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, riding, is cowboy kink a warning?

A/N: not the way y’all wanted me to return, but the way y’all deserve lol. i didnt really have the energy to give it an in depth edit but sometimes it be like that

         You wipe the sweat from your brow, the sun is high in the bright, cloudless sky. It means that the heat is just pouring down in waves from the sky though, and you curse the fact that you’d agreed to switch shifts with one of the other farmhands that had asked you the day before. Part of you wants to find Kirishima and reem him out, but you know he’s a sweetheart and wouldn’t have ever done something that would make things harder for you on purpose.

         Having said that, imagining giving the man a piece of your mind makes it easier for you to grit your teeth and put your back into heaving large packets of grains into a wheelbarrow for the pigs, so that you wouldn’t have to make as many trips. Instead, it would just be one hellish trip, and a lot less walking in the heat.

         Wiping the stray dirt on your pants you sigh. You feel sticky and can feel the grit on your face, on your arms. You must smell something fierce, though you know compared to the pigs you’d be feeding in a few minutes, you smelt like a bed of flowers.

         You feel the strain on your back as you finally finish loading the wheelbarrow and start to haul it over to the south side of the Academy farm. The ground is rough, and you feel the jarring of the weight in your shoulders, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

         After you finish feeding the pigs, you take the supplies back to where they belong and head off to start some of your final tasks of the day. One is milking the cows, and the other being your favourite, plowing some of the dirt to prepare for the new season.

         Is it a bit stupidly cliché that you love riding the big tractor while the sun lowers in the sky? Maybe. Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the best views you’ve seen in your life. Plus, it always helps clear your mind from a day of hard work so that when you enter one of the farmhouses, you’re ready to do whatever else you need to get done.

         When you park the tractor back to its spot in the barn, you see a few of the other farmhands talking together. They’re laughing with one another, and you wave to them as you walk out with your overcoat and keys.

         You’re in a daze until you realize you’ve somehow already started up a warm shower, standing under the steam to relieve your body from the stress of the day. Your muscles feel so much better with the hot water on them and the steam makes you feel as if you’re in stasis. It’s good because tomorrow is going to be a big day, the August festival, a celebration that the community holds as a sort of last hurrah before the season gets busy once again.

         After you’re clean and put together, you head downstairs to have a quick conversation with the couple other farmhands that share the house with you. You need to check if there’s anything else you need to do to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. The four of you had made some homebrew cider to share with the other townspeople, and it tasted quite good, despite being a little heavy on the alcohol. But nobody would be complaining about that, of course.

         “Mmm, I think its fine.” Mina says, faced scrunched up in thought. “We did pretty well with it for sure.”

         “I agree,” you reply. “Just wanted to make sure I could pass out for the night. I’m fucking dead.” She laughs a little at that.

         “Gotta make sure you have the energy for tomorrow. I hear that it’s going to be extra wild.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You know that there’s going to be a horse-ridin’ performance from our sheriff’s department, but there’s also gonna be some cowboys over here to show off some of their skills too.”

         You’re slightly intrigued at that. Maybe, you’ll even get to see him again… but, better not get your hopes up too much. Instead, you say, “That would definitely be a treat for all the hard work that this year’s been.”

         Mina nods sagely at that. “If I see that blonde, twink of a cowboy I’m goin’ to make him my bitch. Because I deserve it.” That brings a snort out of you, but you pray a little for Denki if you do see him tomorrow, because lord knows he’s going to need it.

         The two of you chat for a little while longer before you wish her a good night and head up to get some rest. You do have a busy day to get ready for after all.

           You wake up early the next day, ready to quickly get your tasks done so you can let loose with friends and community members that night. You wish that you don’t have to do any work, but you can’t have everything you want.

         So, you drag yourself out of bed, muscles tight and body sore, to quickly grab a protein bar and a cleaner pair of working clothes. Your overalls are starting to sport holes and there are some dark stains that just won’t ever come off. You need new ones, you think, as you walk towards the horse pen.

         You love the horses, how sweet most of them are and how peaceful it is in their separated area. It’s especially nice in the early morning, with a crisp breeze and the sun peeking out on the horizon. You grab the feed mix that someone had mixed the day before and drag it over to the troughs, where there are already some of the animals waiting for you to arrive. The horses have learned to expect people in the morning, and some of the more assertive ones wait at the fence to be the first ones to get to eat.

         While they feed, you prepare the cleaning tools inside the small stable that is connected to the fenced off pen. You take each horse that’s finished eating into the small shelter to clean their hooves, brush out their mane and body, and then your favourite part, riding them for a few laps of the enclosure to make sure they run a bit each day.

         It’s while you’re dismounting a cute mare named Starlight when you hear a low whistle from behind you. Someone’s obviously been watching you, and sitting there just outside the enclosure.

“Damn, baby, wonder if you could ride me as good as those horses there.” You feel a vein ticking in your head as you recognize the voice. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the group event, not bothering you while you try to get some fucking work done before you can finally relax and celebrate.

         You turn your body and inwardly groan as your suspicions are confirmed, sitting there waiting is a certain cowboy who’s always managed to piss you off greatly every time one of his short visits brings him to the UA farms.

         “Hello, Hawks.” You grit your teeth as you move towards the next horse that you’re about to take care of.

         “I’m wounded, really, that you don’t sound pleased ta see me, angel.” There’s a satisfied smirk on his face. He really does get off on toying around with you and seeing how much he can piss you off. So, you take a deep breath and calm yourself.

         “Now, why would you expect anything different? I haven’t forgotten the last time you came aroun’-“

         He waves you off. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It was a harmless joke.”

         “I had to clean the stables for TWO WEEKS.” He just laughs at your anger, totally unphased. It grinds your gears more, the cheeky grin on his face that charms everyone around him, whittling down your intense irritation.

         “Well, if anythin’ everyone else certainly enjoyed it.” You grumble out some choice words about him, making sure they’re loud enough for him to here, as you start brushing out the mane of the mare in front of you. He seems pleased with himself, leaning on the fence, head on his hands.

         “Do you not have somewhere to be? Something you should be practicing for?” He lazily waves away your attempts to get him away from the work you’d like to finish up.

         “Who needs practice? I know exactly what I’ve gotta do so there’s no real reason for me to waste my energy before the actual performance.” He says it with a casual arrogance, that you know comes from years of experience and absolute confidence in his abilities. “The only thing I wanna do right now is try all of the good I know y’all made for the party tonight.”

         You give him an unimpressed look. “Just because we know each other does not mean that I’m going to just give you the cider meant for the community.” He pouts “You can try it when everyone else does later.”

         “Yeah, but we have a special connection.” He grins and you splutter, embarrassed and trying to put away the memories of your bodies pressed together and calloused fingers in your cunt.

         “Jesus, Hawks. Shut up.” You look around furtively, checking to see if anyone would’ve overheard.

         “You like me loud.” God, his smug look makes you feel hot and bothered.

         “Get outta here so I can finish my work, damn it.” He just laughs, turning around before turning back.

         “You better save me some of the goodies y’all made up for after the performance.”

         “Yeah, whatever,” you grumble, face flushed and mind now distracted with memories of Hawks’ hands tangled in your hair.

           “Well, now. This is delicious.” Your eyes follow his tongue that darts out to lick the drop of the cider that had dripped onto his lips. You’d made sure to fill a plate up with the treats that had been spread around the outdoor tables, lanterns hung up around them not only for ease of finding them, but also to light up the evening. “You helped make this?”

         “Yup. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was between never having done it before and Mina’s enthusiasm. God bless Momo, without her we wouldn’t have gotten it done.” He laughs, and you can’t help that you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

         He was slightly sweaty from his earlier performance, which had been perfectly executed, tank top tucked into worn jeans with a feather-like buckle. His eyes are scanning the crowd around as the two of you lean on the outside of the saloon, the inside being too filled with inebriated or high adults to even try to squeeze into a seat.

         “So, how’s life been around here since I last visited?” he asks between bites of some spicey brisket, obviously enjoying it.

         “Ah, not much. Just the usual social drama. Actually, Shinsou almost got his dick sliced off by some machinery someone had fucked around with. I swear to god that man has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

         “Holy shit, sure does sound like it.”

         “But yeah, it’s just living day to day for me now. Not much new happens out here, as you very well know.” He shrugs.

         “Might as well see. What’s even keeping you here, then?”

         “Not everyone needs to be on the road their whole life to be happy, Hawks.”

         “I suppose. More cider?”

         “Sure.”

           You’ve drank way too much, you know that. But the fuzziness in your head just makes you want to keep going, to have fun and make up for all the time you lose working long hours every day.

         Besides, Hawks is there beside you, egging you on and matching you drink for drink. His hands always seem to be on your body, either squeezing your ass, wrapped around your shoulders or waist. It makes you feel warm, and you know he’s teasing you, trying to rile you up. He wants to see how bothered he can make you before you snap and drag him off to some private place.

         You’re determined to beat him out though. So, you lean into his body space and trace your hands over his arms, the insides of his wrists. You hear his breath hitch, though his attention is kept on whatever conversation is happening in front of you.

         Of course, this is Hawks, who has just as much patience as a saint, despite being as far from one as possible. But you’re drunk and turned on and the teasing is too much for you to handle, so when there’s a brief pause in the activity around the two of you, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear how much you want him.

         He grins, “Might as well head back to your place then.” You agree and drag him with you.

         The moment you’re in the house, you wrap your arms around his neck so you can bring his lips to yours. Its messy and rushed, but it’s relieving at the same time. The two of you have done this enough in the few times that he passes through that he’s comfortable enough to let you take charge for a bit.

         “You can’t even wait ‘til we’re upstairs, sugar?” he chuckles, drawing out each word. You feel the rumble of them, pressed up as you are against his chest.

         “Shut up, Hawks.” You grumble, pulling him towards your room if that’s what it’ll take to get his dick out faster.

         After rushing in the room, you kick the door shut behind you and immediately get back to kissing him. This time, he makes more of an effort to assert himself, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth. You sigh into him, your hands finding his heated skin beneath his shirt as the pace slows down from the frantic rush it had been. It becomes sensual, and you can feel him getting more aroused as he slowly shifts his hands, starting to grind into you.

         You pull away from him, getting some air as you start to take off his shirt. He enthusiastically moves to help and you get to admire his muscles stretch as he does. Obviously, life constantly on the road does wonders for your abs.

         “You too, sugar. You’re gonna make me feel underdressed.” He says as he moves to take off the rest of his garments. A laugh slips out of you as you hastily get out of your outfit. When you turn your attention back to him, he’s sitting on the bed and he gestures for you to join him.

         When you do, he kisses you again, intensely, as he guides you onto your back. You sigh as he kisses down the side of your jaw to mark your neck, reaching blindly for the lube and condoms beside the bed.

         He quickly slides it on and you hear the squelching of lube as he moves in a rush. You don’t have time to make fun of him though, because as soon as he’s finished, he spreads your legs and puts the head of his dick at your entrance.

         He groans, closing his eyes as he enters you, and its uncomfortable for a little bit. Soon enough though, you relax, and start to feel great as he moves his hips slowly against you. Hawks fucks deeply, you know this from your times before, but each time it feels just as tantalizing as the last.

         “Hawks, please.” You pant, trying to wiggle a little bit just to get some friction, some tiny relief for the edging you’ve been through. He just gives you a smirk, as he keeps you completely locked between him and the mattress. You tense so hard he groans on top of you, but he doesn’t let you move, dick still sitting snug inside your cunt.

         “Well, let’s see those barebacking skills you were showin’ off earlier then, hmm?” he says, his voice low and gruff. With ease, he gets the both of you turned around so you’re now sitting with your ass on his thighs, hands clamped tight on your waist keeping you in place while he lays back on the headboard. He nods satisfactorily, looking you up and down with lidded eyes. “Y’know, I like this view much better, baby. What a pretty picture you make right on top of me.” Part of you wants to roll your eyes, but the warmth that his words give you makes the impulse disappear.

         “You know, Hawks, in order for me to show you said skills, you’re going to have to let me move.” He laughs as you try and lift yourself against the pressure he’s putting, obviously unable to really do anything. “Seriously, you dick, lemme move.”

         “But the face you make when I play these little games with you is so cute, sugar.” He’s got a faux innocent smile across his face and you pout and cross your arms in response. “Okay, okay, I’m done. I promise,” he says, letting off all the pressure, but keeping the two of you connected at the hips.

         “Thank you.” you quip, starting a quicker pace than the one Hawks had been setting, gravity still making it just as deep as before.

         Being drunk obviously makes Hawks that much louder, or maybe it’s the change up in position, you can’t be sure. But, his praises, his deep moans, the lewd noises from the slapping of your body against his hips, it all makes you feel hot as hell.

         You look down, seeing Hawks’ eyes widened and excited, he grins when he notices your look and begins to rock up into you. You throw your head back in as he hits deep within you, crying out his name. Hearing it obviously enthuses him as he grunts in exertion, starting to thrust upwards harder, and you feel your body responding, muscles tightening as you get closer to your climax.

         “God, you’re gorgeous like this, y’know?” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be able to last much longer…” He’s panting, fingers digging into your hips sharply, sure to leave marks.

         “Please, I wanna cum Hawks!”

         “Tell me what you need, sugar, I’ll give it to you.” Hearing that makes you smile, he was always so attentive to your needs.

         “Touch me…”

         “You gotta tell me where for that.” Even when so close to his climax, somehow, Hawks manages to be cheeky. However, when he’s fucking you this well, it’s much easier to let the teasing roll off your back.

         “My clit, Hawks. You do know what that is, right?” He lets out a genuine laugh at that, before sending one hand down towards the bundle of nerves.

         It’s enough, between the stimulation and the deep thrusts into your cunt, that you feel yourself tighten and cry out, cumming hard onto his cock. You lean into him, kissing him hard as pleasure courses through your body.

         He works you through it, breathing heavily, you can feel his pulse skittering under your hands. You feel him twitch within you, and an idea forms in your mind. Mind wrapped up in pleasure, you act on the thought immediately, bringing your hands to his chest to play with his nipples.

         He loves it, making keening noises as you work, legs shaking with effort to stay up and keep pace with him. You let him take the lead and you hear him shout and arch up as you pinch his buds, feeling him release.

         He thrusts a couple more times, lazily and slowly, kissing the top of your head as you settle down to lie on his chest for a few minutes.

         You breath deeply, content in the moment. You know after you clean up and rest, he’ll be gone on the road once again, so you relax, enjoying the presence.

[snarwor]

moon and old stars - chapter 1

I blame @badwolfbadwolf for every single word of this. Din Djarin/Boba Fett Daddy Kink with a side of Emotional Hurt/Comfort? I’m fuckin AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA damn it I’m writing Star Wars fic again. What’s this ship name? Link to AO3 at the bottom. No warnings so far. Also: this is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr so if there’s formatting issues yolo

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

He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t. He was practically forty cycles old and he knew better. Here he was, without a damn starship, without the kid, bereft of enough credits to make a difference, and he was spiraling out of control due to the residual guilt and shame which had come with taking his helmet off at the refinery on Morak. He’d compromised himself, his Creed, his people.

And the damn Fett wasn’t talking to him, to top it off. That’s just great.

It wasn’t much of a Way if you kept meandering vaguely off course, listing on just this side of heresy.

Cara and Fennec had gone off in search of food on some outpost near the Outer Rim, a few days’ travel behind Gideon, and therefore Grogu. Din was left alone in Slave I with Boba Fett, and he was practically crawling out of his skin.

He’d rehearsed the bad idea so many times in his head, but somewhere between his mind and his mouth the words changed from “Wanna go shoot something?” to “I need a distraction.”

The old bounty hunter was sitting at the console near the hyperdrive, sans helmet, as he was used to. Din’s hands were shaking in their gloves, but the gloves and his armor were sturdy enough to hide it from the common man’s eye.

Boba Fett was not a common man. He was a Mandalorian, if not by Creed then by race, and he knew exactly the deadly mix of poisons which had led Din to this point better than... kriff, better than anyone else in this blasted galaxy.

His eyes, so level and sure, so calculating and sharp it felt like there wasn’t any beskar between them, regarded him and his request. Din hadn’t asked, he was past the point of asking. He was desperate to get his mind off of the vicious circle of imagining what the kid was going through. Fett stood and straightened his back.

Din wasn’t a slight man, by anyone’s definition. He was strong enough to wield and wear the armor, to make it this long as a guild bounty hunter, to survive the training and the trauma that came from just living in the wild galaxy. But Boba Fett was a clone, he was created to be the most powerful kriffing bastard this side of the stars, and he was engineered smarter, faster, and stronger. He had a hand’s length on him in height, and Din was eager to know what that would feel like, without the armor, without the boots, without—

But Fett hadn’t spoken yet, he hadn’t even given anything away that Din could overthink about. He was sweating all over the inside of his helmet, worse than when he first put one on as a teenager. He swallowed roughly, and the vocoder picked it up, a soft crackle putting his nervousness on display.

“Come with me.”

It was three words, which were more than enough of an order for Din’s head to swim, and he followed like Fett had said to. He was led to a berthing at the far edge of the ship. The matter of fact way Fett had interpreted his request for a distraction as “I’m taking you to bed” made him swoon a little on his feet. “I don’t lay with armor. You’ll have to take it off.”

“But—”

“If I wanted to lay with a droid, I’d lay with a droid. It comes off.”

Again, Din was brought to heel by three short words. And really, what was there left of himself that he could hold tight to and pretend was honorable? How much of himself had he given up in just the last few months? What part of him actually still fit, hidden behind buckles and clasps and plates and signets?

He forced himself not to think about it. His need was great. Back on Morak, he’d felt the same need take control, blurring the line in his head that was at one point, uncrossable. Now, his whole mind was blurred, and he felt the air in his helmet was hot and stifling. Piece by piece, the armor around him came off, and with it, his cares and self-respect. He was willing to debase himself for one petty distraction.

In for a credit, and all.

The chest plate acted as sort of a holding dish for the rest, keeping it nice and tidy and out of Fett’s way as he bared every part of himself. Fett watched with an unreadable expression as pale skin was uncovered, as cloth-covered elbows and socked feet revealed itself to the room. The door was shut, there was some semblance of safety here, but the recklessness with which Din stripped himself gave the old man something to worry about.

Finally, in just his soft skin-layer clothes, all that was left was the damned helmet. Din felt his lips wobbling beneath it, and set his jaw. It’s just a distraction. It’s just enough to get me by. Then I can bottle the shame and find a way to repent for my actions. This is the Way.

The light in the room was dim, like Fett had known Din’s eyes needed to adjust. The helmet sat atop the rest of the armor with a soft thud, finality in its tone. Din let out a shuddering breath, and his eyes went to the floor, his head with it. He’s worn the helmet so long that he was unused to peripheral vision when he had it.

“Look at me.” Three-word sentences were a favorite of Fett’s, so it seemed. “You are not of a Creed you can disappoint while in here. The only truth is that you are mine.”

Din’s eyes flashed up, and his jaw dropped. That strange cadence to his voice, the accent, it was unfamiliar enough to his ears that it set the stage for what came next. “Yours?” he croaked, almost flinching at the new acoustic quality his voice had.

“Mine.” Fett sat on the edge of his bed, and made no motion for Din to follow, so he remained standing. “You are unfamiliar with this kind of activity. Good. There’s nothing you can do, or have done, that will change how I treat you here. We will start small. You will follow my orders. If you are confused about something, you will ask. If something is wrong, you will say ‘beskar’ and we will stop. No one else is allowed to know about this. I will not speak of it, and neither will you. This will not follow outside of here unless we speak of it. Do you have any questions?”

Millions.

“No.”

“Kneel here.” Fett pointed with a single, gnarled finger to a point on the ground by his feet. Din made a soft noise of resistance, but a firm look reminded him that he was to follow Fett’s orders. He slowly went to his knees, and walked forward on them, closer, to Fett’s side. He thought they were going to do this on the bed. “Get comfortable.”

He spoke like he’d rather be talking in a different language, but for Din he’d keep speaking in Common. Din adjusted his kneeling stance so his back wasn’t slouched. They often meditated in the cloister and learned to stay very still despite discomfort, but Fett had told him to get comfortable, so he did, though once he’d found it, he began to fidget.

“Put your head here.” Fett patted his lap. Surely there was an easier way for him to do this…? Din wasn’t sure he’d be able to reach Fett’s cock in this position. “Your mind is jumping several steps ahead. We are not moving past this now. Relax your mind.”

“I asked for a distraction, not a guided meditation,” Din grumbled, resisting and testing the waters a little. Fett seemed quick to temper despite his glacial expressions, but in here, he took the little barb like Din hadn’t even said anything.

“You will get what you need, and nothing more unless you follow what it is I’m saying. Put your head here. I won’t repeat myself again.”

Din gently rested his head against Fett’s thigh. It was a strange sensation, to feel warmth there not brought by engine heat or the flash-burn of a sonic shower, or his own body heat trapped in the helmet. The fabric over his thigh was a rough canvas, but not too thick that it hid the warmth from the man wearing them.

“Good. That’s good.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Fett put a hand on his head, not grabbing, just resting. He took deep breaths and calmed his heart down.

He’d spent so many months taking a sharp blade to his hair, thinning it down as soon as it was long enough to curl. He didn’t like to meet his own eyes in the mirror as he worked, only looked at his face enough to do a cursory, impersonal shave and haircut, and only when absolutely necessary. He felt he owed it to the Creed that he didn’t indulge in time spent out of the helmet, in things like vanity and pride.

But now, with Fett’s hand on his head, and his head on his thigh, kneeling at his feet because he’d been told to, he wished he’d spent a bit more time making sure it was at least even. Insecurity and shame bubbled inside of him, and it made damn sure Din knew how unworthy he was of a signet, of the helmet, of the gifts given by his people. Through many years and lonely nights, even after he met the kid, he’d found himself in moments of physical pain, but never enough to make him cry like a child.

This simple act, it seemed, was enough.

It started slow, a prickling spark behind his eyes, a flash of radiant embarrassment on his cheeks. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. His vision blurred with tears, and they fell, uninhibited, from his eyes. If Fett noticed, he didn’t speak about it, and didn’t move his hand back. His thigh and his hand were the only two points in the galaxy that could tether Din back to himself, and he was holding on tightly to that sensation.

Those fingers curled into unevenly-cut hair, a gentle scritch against a sensitive scalp, and Din cried harder. Under the sounds of his gasps and silent, shuddering sobs, he heard humming. It wasn’t a song he recognized, but the tune became familiar the more Fett repeated it, in a deep register that matched his entire demeanor.

Din’s hands came to wrap around Fett’s calf, holding on hesitantly, but tighter once the song interrupted with a “Hm,” of assent. Now he had four points of tethering, and it was easier for Din to let the tears carry away his shame and injuries to his pride.

He didn’t know how long he was down there, knelt by Fett’s feet, but when he felt fine enough to look up, he was surprised to meet Fett’s eyes. He somehow knew Fett hadn’t looked away even once in the whole time Din had knelt. “You were very good for me,” Fett said, a soft quality to his voice that made Din’s breath catch. The hand on his head shifted and cupped the back of his neck, and Din’s eyes fluttered shut. How long had it been…? Never, his mind said. You’ve never felt like this.

“What was that song?” Din asked, his voice terribly hoarse and small.

“It’s an old one, so old time forgot the words but not the sound and story. It told a tale about an old star shooting across the galaxy, and when it sailed past a moon made of crystals so clear it looked like starlight, it stopped, pulled into orbit by a thing so beautiful it was helpless against the laws of the universe. My father used to sing it to me, and now I sing it to you.”

Din didn’t know what to make of that, but said, “That sounds like a nice story. Will you teach me the song?”

“I will. But not now. The others will be back soon. You may want to clean up.”

Din noticed the uncomfortable feeling of tears dried on his face, and felt the wave of self-consciousness return, though it was greatly subdued.

“There’s a shower on board.”

“Thank you.” Din kept his eyes down, gathering up his things again, his pieces.

“You’re welcome, any time you need it.”

“What if I don’t need it?” Din said, trying to cover his vulnerability with...something else.

“Then you don’t need it,” Fett said, calm as anything. He stood.

Sure enough, those five inches Fett had on him were made starkly apparent when Din stood in none of his armor. Certain men carried a metaphorical weight with them when they walked, and others carried an imagined height that let them look down on others. Boba Fett was bigger in both senses, but did not use his power to belittle or condescend at Din. He exuded a presence of comfort and safety, a peace that Din had thought inaccessible for himself for so very long.

He felt held, though they stood apart.

“I’ll just. Shower.” Din said, awkwardness filling his lungs.

As soon as he was in the small ‘fresher, he closed the hatch and wondered what in the kriff just happened.

Read on AO3.

Chapter two.

[biorusted]

Precipice (Or: I could love you)

Out of the depths of my brine pool I come baring an actual, honest to God fanfic. And a smut one at that. 2020 is full of surprises.

Thank you @soulswimmr keeping my soul tethered to this mortal plane and for prof reading this fic.

Fandom: Satan and Me -- Pairing: GabeMike -- Words: 5510 (and no its not 10 pages of intercourse there are other things that happen)

If I had a AO3 account I would tag this fic as: Explicit! Panic attack tw, anxiety and depression tw, messy feelings, Hurt/Comfort, porn with plot, First times, cis gay sex, under negotiated kinks, (as in *slaps roof of fanfic* this baby can fit SO MUCH under negotiated kinks) light Bondage, light impact play, Dom/Sub tendencies, aftercare. yeehaw.

Summery: Michael accidentally confesses his love to Gabriel. Putting it lightly, it doesnt go well. But then Gabe shows up later that day and makes amends. (they boink)

Edit - 9/29 (michaelmas) Added a NSFW pic inspired by the fic (at the bottom)

Michael had no idea how he got here.

Well, no, of course he did; he was there when it happened. But to say that the day began with him nearly falling over the edge into despair to having Gabriel grinding up against him, pressing hot kisses to his neck and chest, toying with his body… well no one could have possible seen that coming. Except God, but he wasn’t really thinking of Him at this time.

Theres no way to track how This started. It could go back way before the Fall, to when Michael was first discovering that he liked Gabriel more than others. But that was normal, right? People had their favorites so why was this any different? Just because he leaned in closer whenever Gabriel spoke, or found him smiling like the sun whenever Gabe leaned up against him while they were on break, didn’t mean it was anything special. Besides, Gabriel had Anthea. Gabriel didn’t know he had Anthea at first, but Michael wasnt that blind. So he didn’t say anything to dissuade Gabriel from going after her. He didn’t encourage it either, though. Even after the Fall, he didn’t say anything, he himself just lost Lucifer so any chastising or encouragement would have been hypocritical, but eventually he’d thought that Gabriel would let go of her.

He never did though. And Michael never got rid of his feeling for Gabriel either. It grew, in fact. Slowly, like a vine coming around to choke the statues in the gardens, wholly unnoticed until there is nothing to do about it. Every laugh, ever tired roll of the eyes, every unexpected yawn would bring about a new leaf that would suffocate Michael if he wasn’t already doing everything he could to push his feelings down. He didn’t have time for whatever he felt for Gabriel. There were things to do on the surface, troops to train in Heaven and he, being the one on the pedestal, had to be perfect. And feelings were messy.

The point is, as much as he wanted to run his fingers through Gabriel’s curly red hair and kiss him on warm summer nights, he couldn’t do it. Would never do it.

And then the prophecy child came along. The end officially started, Michael got stabbed by his sister, contracted to a human, poisoned by his brother, sold off as a bartering chip to War, lost his physician, pulled some strings and brought a spirit back to earth, pulled some more strings to keep Gabriel from getting to irreversible trouble (but still had him sent to the tank for two weeks), finally saw God after years of radio silence, met his literal doppelganger, got formerly-mentioned-brother’s wings sent to him as sick gift and, quite frankly, was at the end of his rope. Everything was just happening too fast and no one seemed to care. The air was tight whenever he was with the other Archangels. It felt like he didn’t really know any of them anymore. Not even Gabriel, though his heart begged for that not to be the case.

Oh, right. Anthea had also died. So there’s that too. See? Messy.

All of that was basically to say, that when Gabriel made the snide comment that he, Michael, couldn’t possible know what it was like to truly love someone other than himself (which wasn’t even true, Michael did, in fact, hate himself immensely) Michael wasn’t planning to confirm or deny it.  However, after the initial shock – Did Gabriel really think him that heartless? – and feeling everyone’s eyes on him – all the other archangels were in the room, plus some other guards – he did answer. It came out like a holy confession, a whisper accompanied by searing hot tears.

I love you. He said.

Michael couldn’t breathe in the silence that followed, which made Gabriel’s laugh, a cruel sounding thing, even harder to take. Michael choked on air and when Gabriel turned to leave, but when he made to follow, maybe to explain himself more? To apologize? Anything but be alone with his thoughts or worse, alone in a room full of people, Gabriel slapped him.

Gabriel said something to him, but he didn’t catch it. All he felt was stinging on his cheek and embarrassment crushing his chest. Michael didn’t know how long he stood there, cradling his face and trying to think, but not comprehending anything around him, but eventually his brain caught up and he realized he did not want to be in that room right then. So, he ran.

--

Raphael had taught him some breathing techniques to help with panic attacks, but he couldn’t remember them. He guessed he actually had to breathe for them, which he wasn’t doing. All he was doing was sitting in a ball on the floor of his room trying to crush his feeling out. How typical of him, really, to fuck everything up. Now what? He had just cut ties with the only other person he felt a true connection with and now he was well and truly going to die lonely when The End came. That was always the plan; a murder suicide with Lucifer, but he’d thought there would be some pride when he went? Someone who he was fighting for? He didn’t know. He did know it was all his fault. Everything was his fault, no matter who he assigned blame to.

When he finally stopped crying, Michael sat very still. The apathy that came after such a strong release was always welcome. He breathed. And then he got up, washed his face and then went to his personal office to get some work done. He was nothing if not a good angel. Perfect in the eyes of the public.

Numb to everything that wasn’t directly in front of him, Michael actually got a lot done. The shuffling of paper and scratching of his pen was a pleasant relief compared to the chaos of his own thoughts that he was used to. He didn’t even hear the door to his office open, didn’t feel the presence of someone else in the room until they came to where he was organizing paperwork into the proper bins and gently grabbed both of his arms.

Oh, Michael could recognize Gabriel’s hands anywhere. They were hands he trusted completely with everything from a nice manicure to executing an offender of the faith. The only problem was he didn’t know what Gabriel was going to do with those hands. So, he stood completely still at Gabriel’s mercy for the second time that day.

“Turn around.” Gabriel said, taking the rest of the files from Michael and tossing them out of reach. Michael couldn’t discern anything from his voice, really only comprehending that he was very close to his ears, so, he did what he was told.

“Look at me.” he said next, as Michael found the trinkets on his desk a better study. When he didn’t listen, Gabe let go of the shelving he was pining him to and put one hand on the side of his face. It didn’t take a lot of pressure to tilt his head so their eyes met. It frightened Michael to see how stormy Gabriel’s eyes were. Dark, alluring, and troubled were not something he’d normally say about Gabriel, but now only those words applied. There was something else too, his jaw was clenched, as if he were holding his tongue, or arguing with himself.

Michael never got the chance to ask about it, because Gabriel leaned in, parted his lips, closed his eyes and kissed him.  The fog of apathy flushed out of him immediately and he felt everything; the warmth of Gabe’s hands on his cheek, the way his other hand lifted from the table and came to rest on his waist, the smooth silk of his own clothes against his body, heat coming from everywhere and, oh lord, his lips. The clouds couldn’t compare to the softness of Gabe’s lips on his, he could spend an eternity in this moment and it would never be enough.

The kiss (they’re first kiss), of course, did not last an eternity. It was only when Gabe moved away from him that Michael realized he didn’t close his eyes, or move towards him or do… anything. Kisses always looked magnetic, so why didn’t it fix everything between them? Michael felt a knot forming in his stomach and it only grew heavier as Gabe opened his eyes to gauge his reaction.

They were still standing so close that their breaths were shared. So, Michael only had to whisper when he said;

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you want to?” Gabe quipped back, tilting his head to the side. He was being completely serious.

“Wh-What?” He really wished his eyes were the bright emerald green they were usually.

Gabe’s grip on Michael’s waist tightened and the storm behind his eyes grew. “Do you want to understand?”

Of course he did. His cheek still burned from where Gabe hit him and the shaking anxiety from his panic attack never left completely, if he understood then maybe they really could make this work. Whatever this could be. Or he could fuck it up.

“No.” He said, and closed the gap between them.

Almost immediately he was shoved back into the shelving with Gabe’s hands clawing at his skin and teeth biting his lips. Heat rushed through his entire body as Gabe pressed up against him, ground up against him leaving his full intent out into the open.

God, since when could he move like that? Michael thought as he opened his mouth and let Gabriel’s tongue meet his own. Gabe’s piercing clicked on his teeth, setting off another wave of heat down his spine. He’d always wondered what it would be like to feel Gabe’s piercing in his mouth. One of his own hands slipped behind Gabe’s chiton and laid flat against his chest while the other raked through his hair. He almost wished Gabriel hadn’t cut his hair short, he would have love to pull on the curls, but the deep moan that came out of him made up for it.

Gabriel’s tongue was on his lips, and then his lips were on his jaw, kissing a line up and then down his neck, Michael could barely catch his breath, the way he gasped at every press of his mouth on sensitive skin. Even when Gabe slowed down to focus on a spot at the base of his neck, Michael didn’t complain, especially as Gabe’s leg pressed in between his own. Michael didn’t realize how hot his body felt, certainly didn’t realize how hard he was, how hard both of them were, but it was all he could think about as Gabe��s hands slid lower and started groping his ass, gathering the fabric of his skirt between his fingers.

Humans always made this stuff look strange, Michael didn’t get all the moaning and begging and crying out. The ‘losing control’ part never made sense to him either, but there was nothing controlled about the sounds he made now; broken whispers begging to be understood as wanting more. He wanted more of this, whatever this ended up being and he wanted Gabriel there to guide him through it all.

Naturally, that’s when Gabriel pulled away. Michael didn’t think he could fall for him anymore, but the vines he always compared his love to bloomed in such a vivid way. The messed up hair, the dilated pupils, the reddened lips, the way he dragged his eyes down every inch of him; it could have destroyed him and made him whole all at once.

“Tonight.” Gabe said. “I’ll meet you in your room.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a statement either.

“Yes.” He nodded, but when he felt Gabriel leaning away from him, asked “But why?”

He straightened himself up, making eye contact as he grazed his crotch and nodded towards his desk. “You still have work to do.”

--

The afternoon passed as quickly as he’d expected it to, which is not very quick at all. After getting himself fixed up, Michael found he could not possibly focus on anything other than events prior. It didn’t matter what he put in front of himself, all he could think about was how this whole thing wasn’t good. It’s exactly want he wanted in his deepest and most sinful dreams; a physical relationship with his millennia-long love—but he’d only let himself pin for a romantic one, chaste save for a few kisses. They both were angels after all. This… This wasn’t even love, he thought. Especially not in the way silence grew serious between them when they parted. Lovers didn’t do that… they talked at the very least.

No. This was lust. And he found that he was ok with it… he wanted to be ok with it.

Eventually he got up and left his office. The empty hallways of his home echoing his footsteps, he tried not to think about it. He paced around his room a bit, wishing Gabriel had been more exact about ‘tonight.’ Did he mean at sunset? Or closer to midnight? Were they just… going to get straight to it? Or… what? Was Michael expecting to be taken out on a date? Please. Gabe was probably just going to get off and then leave. He would be lucky if it was a mutual thing.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking. How would it happen? Was he expected to do anything? How did Gabriel know how to move his body like that? Eventually, just about when he thought he’d lose it, Michael caved and looked up what to expect.

The internet was, as usual, very helpful, but by the end of his searching his mind was even more frayed than before. He decided to take a shower. A long one just to calm himself down and … maybe to… test some of the things he read.

By the time Gabriel arrived, Michael had taken a long shower, dried and dressed himself and even put on what he hoped was subtle perfume and straightened up his room. Everything was, hopefully, perfect. He was halfway through setting up two glasses of wine --because he did keep wine in his room now-- when the knock came.

“Come in,” He said casually, almost forgetting the situation they were in.

He heard the door open and close, but there came no greeting, so when Michael turned around to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, he was surprised to find Gabriel outright staring at him. He looked the same as he did before, except now he carried a bag with him. Michael, however, did dress up. Or down. It depends on how you look at it. He still wore his chiton, but in a more traditional way that showed off more of his chest and thighs. He also wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

He swallowed and turned back to the wine, wishing his body didn’t blush so much under Gabriel’s intense stare. But he faced it again, this time with a bottle of wine in his hands.

“I thought that we could have a drink?” His voice faltered and he stood rather awkwardly and small.

That seemed to break Gabe out of his trance. He dropped off his bag on the bed and approached him with an even gaze. Stopping right in front of him, he took the bottle from his hands and set it down.

“No… No more wine.” He said in that deep tone that put butterflies in his stomach. Upon seeing his reaction, Gabe added, “I’d rather have you right now.”

And to that Michael could only say one thing.

“Please.”

--

And now here they were, Gabriel leaving bite marks and hickeys on his neck while he pushed up against him so that every nerve was on fire, begging for more. Michael twisted and strained on the ropes tying his wrists to the bedposts, trying to catch his breath. But whenever he did manage a moment clarity, Gabriel would do something else to make him jump and moan beneath him. He was playing with his nipples now and dragging his fingernails down his sides. He still hadn’t taken off his clothes yet, but by now they might as well be ruined, soaked through with each other’s sweat and precum. Michael moaned again as Gabe slapped his thighs, by now he wasn’t afraid of being loud, he wanted Gabe to know exactly what he felt.

“Please.” He begged again, not expecting an answer but praying for one anyway. His legs shook underneath Gabe’s firm hands as he kept them pressed to the bed, no matter how many times he coaxed Gabe forward, to rub their cocks together, for any friction at all, he still denied him.

“Please, what?” he said into his ear, “Aren’t I giving you everything you want?” The honey in his voice made Michael shiver.

“Yes, God yes! But please… fuck- please touch me. I need you.” He captured his lips again for a messy kiss.

Gabe pulled away. “Greedy, much?” He kissed a line down his body, then above his navel, “You really are a whore.”

Michael gasped as the sash at his hips was untied and thrown aside. His whole body throbbed with need at the silent promise. “Only for you.”

Gabe lifted the remaining fabric and breathed in the wet spot where his precum soaked through. “Is that so? All of this is for me?” He gently pulled the fabric away from his body, finally leaving Michael bare and spread wide for him. His dick fully erect, leaking and red, begging for release by any means.

Michael shifted under his gaze, looking down on him like he owned him. He only hoped he looked as beautifully desperate as Gabriel did. “Of course.”

Gabe nodded and took off the rest of his own clothes. His hands traveled up and down his glistening tan body, fulfilling a desire that Michael wished he could do instead. How many times had Michael wanted to run his fingers up and down the curves of Gabriel’s toned body? He couldn’t remember at that moment. If he didn’t like his wrists being tied up so much, he might have asked to be untied.

When he got to his dick though, he only traced light lines with his fingertips, moaning and biting his lips in pure ecstasy. It was a sight to behold, the lines of precum hanging on his fingers, the trail of ginger hair cropping his dick. ‘Heavenly’ could hardly cover it.

Michael let out a groan and Gabe stopped, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My eyes are up here.”

“Fuck me already.”

That earned him another slap on the inside of his thighs, he bucked and noted the way his cock bounced in the air. Did everything have to be so erotic? Gabriel reached back to the bag he brought, the one that also had the rope, and pulled out a small bottle of lube and a condom. Now that they were on track, Gabe wasted no time in slicking his fingers up, propping up Michael’s legs and sliding said fingers up and down his ass, even grabbing his balls for good measure. Michael thought about biting into his own arm to stop from crying out too loud, but instead just lifted his legs higher. The house was empty anyway.

Gabe let out a satisfying hum and pressed a finger inside him. It felt as strange as it did when he practiced in the shower, but god was it so much better.

“Take deep breaths. I’m just stretching you out now.” He said, smiling to himself and kissing Michael’s calf. “It would be a shame if you finished now.”

“It wouldn’t be my fault. I didn’t know how much you liked teasing.” Or slapping or bondage or powerplay or literally anything. Then again, he himself didn’t realize how much he’d like those things too, much less being on the receiving end. He took a deep breath. And another. Then, the question that was haunting him slipped from his mouth. “How do you know how to do this?” he blurted out.

“Hm?” Gabriel looked away from him, suddenly abashed, as if he wasn’t massaging his asshole for his pleasure and use. “I uh. I watched some videos.”

And to that Michael laughed, more genuine than he had in a while.

“What?” Gabe took the opportunity to insert another finger, stopping his laughter with pain and pleasure. How cruel!

“Nothing! I just…” He turned his head to hide his face in is arms. “I watched some videos too.”

“Really?” The quality in his voice changed. It had been changing from when they made out in his office to now… it felt like they were talking normally with each other, like friends… or, well, like lovers. It helped that he was smiling now, not quite a joyful or mischievous smile, but a quaint one. As if they both were taking each other in with a new light.

“Yeah… I practiced some too.” He could share that, right?

“Oh… did you…?”

“No. I was… saving that for you.”

“Oh.” Was all he said, hiding his quiet delight behind adding in another finger inside of him.

They stayed like that for a while, Gabe stretching him out gently while Michael sighed and kept his breathing relaxed. Gabe never pushed his fingers in deep, even though Michael thrusted his thighs up, trying to convince Gabe to finger fuck him a little. After a few minutes, Michael was craving for something thicker and longer. Even so, he was not ready for how cold, empty and gapping he’d feel when Gabe’s fingers left him.

“Ready?” Gabe asked as he slid the condom on and poured more lube onto his hand. He bit his swollen lips and he slicked up his shaft; he wasn’t the only one that was denied.

“More than.” He angled himself up more and welcomed Gabe’s steady hand bracing on his red thighs. There was a moment of blissful silence as Gabe lined himself up, only broken by the feeling on his head pressing up against his hole and pushing in. They both moaned.

Gabe was gentle going in, pushing forward and pulling back bit by bit. His whole body jerked as he guessed his prostate was hit, he read that it felt like sparks shooting across the body and by God was that right. He rocked his hips up even harder now. Michael had never felt so full, never felt the need to be, but when Gabe bottomed out and rutted against his hips, he felt as if he’d need this the rest of his life. Is this what it felt like to be truly connected? To be full and content with your lover? It felt cheesy to even think, but he imagined soulmates felt like this.

Michael moaned even louder as Gabe pulled halfway out and slid down faster. Again and again he felt sparks as his lover’s wet hips slammed into his own. The noises they made were obscene and only made worse when Gabe leaned over him to get a better angle. Now he could feel Gabe’s hot breath on his face and see just how gone he was, which made the heat pooling in his own stomach twist and flood his senses. This was started to be too much.

“Touch me!” He begged, straining on his wrists again. “Oh, please I want to come. Please let me come.” He had to have this, he’d waited so long; Michael needed this.

“Oh fuck.” Gabe moaned and leaned down to bite at his neck once more. “Beg for me. I’m so close.”

“Please, Gabriel, I wanna… I wanna feel you come inside me, I want your hands pumping my dick until I scream. I want you. I need you Please. Please. Please!”

Michael’s breathy cries grew more erratic along with Gabriel’s pace. The wet slapping of skin filled the room until Gabe cried out and shook with his orgasm. Michael pushed up against him, writhing around his partner’s twitching cock, until Gabe collapsed onto him and gasping for breath, oversensitive and spent.

“Fuck.” He gasped as he lifted himself up and crashed his mouth on Michael’s. His lips screamed desperation. His hands trembled as he grabbed Michael’s cock and pumped at a horrifically fast pace. Michael gasped against his mouth and bucked, arching his back as much as he could. When his orgasm hit, he froze, coming quickly in Gabe’s hand before opening his eyes again and melting into the bed. Only then did Gabe slide out of him and collapse. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, and then the only thing he could do was breathe. His mind and body spent.

They laid together for a few minutes, Gabe resting on top of him, both of them basking in the afterglow. Michael felt sticky and sore and empty but didn’t feel like moving, and honestly, if they laid like that for the rest of the night, he would be completely fine with that.

As if reading his thoughts, Gabriel kissed his jaw and lifted himself up. How he went from blitzed out to composed Michael couldn’t guess, but he noted the way Gabe still trembled. “We should… clean up.” He emphasized this by taking his hand—still covered in Michael’s cum – and dragged his tongue up his index finger. He made a face and shrugged, “It doesn’t taste that good.”

Michael huffed. “I’m sorry I’m not made of sugar.”

“Hm. But those noises you made were so sweet.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Untie me, please.” He didn’t thing he could play anymore games.

“Just a second.” He peeled off the condom and made to get off the bed.

“Where are you going?” A bolt of dread shot up his spine; he wasn’t leaving, was he? Not tied up to the bed and out in the open?

“Bathroom, Michael. Getting a towel and washing my hands. Also, you’re sticky.”

“And whose fault is that?” he tried shove his anxiety back into its box.

He didn’t get a reply, just a hum and a good view of Gabe’s back side as he walked to the room adjacent and cleaned himself up. He wasn’t even out of sight, keeping the bathroom door wide open, but Michael still felt tendrils of doubt writhe in his chest.

He put on a smile as he walked back holding two warm towelette—because yes, Michael had towelettes on hand. They’re nice to have— He was still surprised when Gabriel cleaned him instead of just untying his wrists and letting him handle his own ‘sticky’ body. Somehow this seemed more intimate than what they just finished doing, especially how gentle Gabe lifted his legs to get a better angle. The warm towel felt wonderful on his abused butt and dick, more so than he thought it would. After getting his lower half he used the other towelette to press on his neck, which had much the same effect. Michael didn’t think that a warm towelette would make the deep bite marks and bruises heal right away, but it was like a gentle kiss. He didn’t think Gabe would be so kind to him.

“Whats wrong, Michael?” Gabe’s calm voice cut through the silence. He didn’t meet his eyes as he asked.

What should he say to that? Everything was wrong, they just—they just had sex! They didn’t even talk about it before hand they just… did it! And this morning he was pretty sure Gabe hated him and Michael… he didn’t know what he wanted to do with anything. No one could find out, he was sure of that… but did that mean he had to forget this whole night happened? All in all his life was falling apart! He didn’t want to push his last lifeline away.

“I’m fine.” He smiled. He tried not to panic as the mood shifted over Gabriel. He could see the clouds over his eyes again. Shit shit shit of course he’d ruin it. “I-“ He started, frantically thinking about what would make this right. “I just want you to stay.” Pathetic.

That seemed to work, though it hurt to say, but he didn’t get an answer right away. Instead, Gabe moved up to his arms and finally undid the rope. Michael hissed as he moved his freed wrists again.

“Oh, I brought something for that.” Gabe said, reaching for his bag once again. He produced a bottle of lotion and applied some to his hands before taking one of Michael’s and massaging it. It felt good, though much like the towel still at his neck, he didn’t think it would do much. They fell into a lull again. Michael felt as if he could fall sleep, if not for the unanswered question weighing on his mind.

“What do you want to do with the cover?”

“Hm?”

“The duvet is… wet.”

“Oh… just throw it to the ground, I’ll clean it tomorrow.” Or he’ll just burn it, whatever.

“Ok.” Gabe let go of his hands and began to pull back the blanket beneath them. Ideally, they should have taken it off beforehand, but they weren’t really thinking logically then, just about how to make each other shake with pleasure. Michael sat up and helped kick the thick blanket to the ground. His ass hurt and his whole body was sore, scratched up and bruised, but at least he was clean-ish. He had honestly never felt so… exhausted before. Satisfied but still so wanting. Maybe he was a selfish whore. He pulled back more blankets from the front of the bed and crawled underneath him, not caring to put on clothes or turn off the dim lights still illuminating his room.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the heaviness he felt all around him versus the sounds of Gabriel sliding off the bed and walking away. It didn’t really work, he still felt hot tears behind his eyes and tried biting the inside of his lip to keep from making noise. If Gabriel wanted to leave, then who was he to stop him? He knew this wasn’t good. He should be happy that he got to have sex with him at all. A check off the bucket list and all that.

But he didn’t leave. Michaels eyes snaped open as he felt a thumb wipe away his tears. Gabe was hovering above him, looking somewhere between tired and concerned; he’d just turn off the lights. Michael wanted to laugh because of how ridiculous he was being. Or cry.

But he didn’t. He shifted over and let Gabriel slide under the covers with him. It was awkward, they were both naked and wasn’t sure how get comfortable like this, but they soon settled down where Michael was laying on Gabe’s chest and they were tracing shapes on each other’s arms.

He was about to drift off when Gabe muttered, half to himself, “I could love you.”

That didn’t feel as bad as it could to Michael. “That’s all I need.” His words slurred together before he dropped into darkness. He’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.

--

Gabriel didn’t know why he did this anymore than Michael probably did. All Gabe wanted was a release, something he thought he could only have with Anthea. A stress reliever, maybe. A good fuck before the world went to shit. He tried to ignore the darker thoughts he had that day, where he pushed Michael over the edge and left him to shatter on the ground. Or the ones where he’d hurt Michael outright to finally get across all of the hurt he’d experienced at his now-lover’s hands. But there was something—a spark? – when they kissed, and a shift when they actually talked to each other. No masks, no pretenses. Just feelings; whatever they happened to be.

And Gabe remembered how Michael used to be. Fun, genuine, loving. He remembered the quiet nights where they watched the sky and how Michael would, very obviously, check him out. The way he always seemed to prefer either him or Lucifer. This whole thing was ridiculous; of course Michael loved him, it was so obvious. So why did Gabe react like that this morning? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it anymore than he already had.

Gabe wasn’t lying when he said he could love him, but he wouldn’t lie and say that he loved him now. His heart was recently broken and, the tattoo of Anthea’s name was barely over a month old. Before today, he believed it too soon for anything new. Obviously, another part of him disagreed, but he would save those thoughts for another time. Gabriel kissed Michael’s head and fell asleep with him in his arms. He’ll have to see what the next day brought.

____

a doodle:

[dredreadsdrawing]

Oc-tober Day 13: Future

........... Yall ready for a bigass story dump? Oh boi. Here we go..... (also bonus points and possibly a free sketch will be given to whoever guesses what this story was originally a fanfic of ;p) Again, hate these sketches but im short on time for these posts lol and my pen tablet broke. No more pen pressure, the lines come thick and round always now. big oof.

This story is set in an apocalyptic future.

Small note, i had written originally written half of this in a post, it crashed and didn’t save, so i rewrote it and it became more detailed and uh. im basically like. almost halfway through the fuckin story so..... please enjoy? :,3 I tried going full but its so much plz i cant ah i already have two other oc-tober prompts to complete ;o;

I would also like to specify that uuh this story situation is something I need to work out the kinks for lol. Definitely. Buuuut this is all I have for now XD please take it with a grain of salt. Oke here story:

-        First and foremost, make no mistake, the Yellow and Pink siblings are the main characters. I haven’t fleshed out the others as much as I have these two because of this.

-        It starts with Yellow and Blue. Friends since before they could walk. Their parents were already friends, so it was only natural. Pink was born once they finally hit school, and she grew up seeing Blue as a second brother figure. He was clearly a part of the family.

-        As time went on, though, these familial feelings were turning into something else. Yellow was hit with the realization that he liked his best friend. More than that, he was head over heels in love. But there were lots of problems with this.

-        For one, as soon as he realized his feelings, Blue had made it big in the newest gaming scene. The newest consoles had yet to be mastered, but he pioneered it, creating the first high scores, and charming the onlookers with his commentary as he did so. The rest of the bunker took him in as a new young celebrity.

-        Another big problem was, of course, how close they already were. ‘Brothers’ this, and ‘siblings’ that. The world already saw them as having this relationship, Yellow himself has told them before that Blue was this to him. But now he wasn’t. Yellow could die from embarrassment and shame.

-        And no matter how hard he tried following behind Blue, Yellow just isn’t as gifted; neither on screen nor with his people skills. Yellow does well enough to be a part of the top, but he never stands out. He doesn’t feel special enough.

-        Meanwhile, Orange and Pink are the best of friends. When Pink was little and saw how well her brother got along with Blue, she felt she wanted something like that too. She found her match at school, with the shy and quiet Orange. She was always nervous, but when she opened up, Pink found her to be clever, quick witted and sarcastic. She was a blast. They were inseparable babies, and quickly, they made a promise.

-        It started with Pink proposing to Orange. She liked her! They should clearly get married! But Orange wasn’t so quick to agree. Marriage is such a big commitment! Her mom would never allow it! So they compromised. No matter their future, they’d live close together. They’d always be together.

-        Even as Orange’s older sister took a dislike to Pink’s rowdiness.

-        As time went on, and puberty hit, some things came to light. Pink was very much into girls, in very explicit ways. Orange was…. Not. Nothing explicit for her, thank you very much. Through teenhood, the two kept their strong friendship, though, and always comforted one another. Lots of Pink’s girlfriends ended up jealous of Orange, but Pink would stop them at their tracks. Orange would always be a part of her life. If they don’t get along with her, there’s no point keeping a relationship that doesn’t recognize this.

-        Moving onto the plot, here it is. Everyone is already an adult, Pink and Orange being the youngest. There is a prestigious event that’s going to happen; the launch of the newest console that will feel the most life-like. To celebrate this launch, seven players will be chosen through competitions, and they’ll get to play the first quest in a livestream. It’ll take them three days.

-        Competitions come and most people that were already suspected to be chosen make it. With two surprises. Yellow, who barely got top due to pure luck. And White who… well, Orange is the best medic, hands down. Everyone knows she knows her strategies and most effective ways to save the group. She’s effective. Always where she needs to be. And yet, even though she got the highest score, she’s been pushed aside and her place in the team was given to White. Everyone screams malarky.

-        Pink is pissed for her friend. She was going to have a great time with her in the game! They would be pioneers together! Orange calms her down. Pink should have fun without her, it’s not a big deal. Orange still has her high scores, and she can keep her notoriety. This won’t affect them in the long run. Pink relents but isn’t happy. She hates White and sees him as a prissy elitist. As they go to get lunch, they pass Red. Pink casually invites her to eat with them. Red says she’s busy. Pink is disappointed and Orange laughs. Pink’s got her eyes on Red. If she can’t spend her time with her friend, she’ll be spending it getting closer to her instead…

-        Orange goes home and mopes in secret. She stayed calm for Pink’s sake but she’s really taken this loss hard. She needed to make a break in her record. Have a flashy accomplishment. And it was stolen from her. Her older sister comes in. She’s the head of coding for this new game. Orange mopes around her, begging for her to let her in, or to at least tell her why she didn’t make it. Her sister keeps her lips shut. But. She does concede that it was unfair. She prepares Orange’s favorite dinner and bought her favorite dessert. Orange smiles at the heartfelt show of sympathy and doesn’t bring it up again. Whatever it was that happened, it wasn’t her sister’s fault.

-        White is from a legacy of high-rankers. They’ve always kept their marks perfect, and drilled perfection into their kids. IF there wasn’t a white player in a prestigious event, they had failed. Out of the newest generation’s three, White is the youngest and…. The least skilled. They try! They’ve worked so hard all their life, but their reflexes aren’t as polished no matter how hard they focus. They just can’t be better than Orange, the true best medic. Before the tournament, he had become depressed. He didn’t even want to try out for it, knowing what would happen. But he ran into Red, an old acquaintance from past games, who picked up on how red his eyes were. She treated him to a warm drink. She let him vent. She showed genuine concern, and was gentle as she reassured him she knew his worth. He’s always been a great partner in the games she’s played with him. She knows he’d be a great addition to the team if he makes this. With her words of confidence, he’s flushed. A renown sense of hope…. And a new attraction makes him try harder. He competes. He pushes and pushes to save his teammates. But he’s just not as effective or calculative and Orange gets the big win save for hers. She won, fair and square. But when they present the awards…. It’s White they call out. He’s…. floored. He didn’t win. Why was he getting into the group?

-        He accepts the award. He’s not happy about it, but… it’s all he can do. He asks his family what strings they pulled. They never give him an answer. They don’t even congratulate him or leave any messages as he prepares to stream. He’s left alone to face the wrath of the people who knew Orange deserved his place, her best friend Pink at the forefront. To treat him like the petty sore loser he didn’t want to be. He slapped himself. He can’t let them win. He’ll do it. Red believed in him. He’ll show them what he’s made of with this game! He won’t die. And… he notices the looks Pink is giving Red. He doesn’t like that. He’s going to get closer to Red for sure. He knows he stands no chance with her… but he wants to be someone she opens up to too. And she may not like him romantically, but Pink is in no way someone who deserves her attention. With how brash, rude and self-centered she is? White hates her. They’re going to keep butting heads.

-        Yellow and Blue practice together nonstop. They are in sync, years of getting to know each other’s play style has them adept to being a team. After beating a favorite of theirs, they go out to celebrate. On the way there, Blue keeps being stopped to be congratulated. No one congratulates Yellow. Not that he minds… he doesn’t do well under the spotlight. But… as they sit down to eat, Yellow’s concerns bubble up. After a few drinks, he comes clean. He’s not sure he deserves to be a part of the team. It was pure luck that he barely scraped by and got the most points. He doesn’t even remember what he did to get them. Blue pats his shoulder, and shakes him. He reassures him its only his insecurities making him feel like this. Yellow deserves to be there. And he won’t be alone. Blue will always have his back. Yellow smiles and they have a good time the rest of the night.

-        After a month of preparation, presentations, and practice, it’s finally time. They wave to everyone as they step into the room that will start their procedure. They’ll be knocked out, have their bodies connected to the game, and awaken in it.

-        They’re up. They’re in a metal chamber. They’ve already got their armor suits on, and their weapons are right beside them. It’s a survival game set in what the upper world would look like. They must treat this as real life. Supplies are provided; this is just a trial of the game. The setting isn’t on difficult. Their main focus is to not die, and to get to the end of this delivery mission. They’ll send a note to a sanctuary, the path already set, and it should only take them three days tops. Easy enough. They leave the chamber and take in the view outside, blinking at the harsh morning light. Their livestream begins, their helmets broadcasting what they see.

-        The world is a dump. Nice graphics though. They step out and thus begins the journey. From this point forward, I’ll just mildly explain some events. Some will be more detailed than others cuz this is all a haze.

-        First, as they walk around, they catch the attention of people in cars. Their first bad guys. The bad guys don’t stand a chance against them, and retreat. Red is cautious of them coming back.

-        They stop when they reach an abandoned house, no neighbor houses anywhere. It looks so normal. They step inside and, though decrepit, everything looks ok. Until they reach the basement. An underground lab. Years of gaming has made them apprehensive. They can’t understand what’s going on but this doesn’t look good.

-        Before they can find logs on an old computer, the bad guys they fought before indeed burst through with reinforcements. It’s a close battle, and most of the lab is destroyed in the process. The team beats most of them as one drops a light. The building is set on fire. The team runs away, but Green dropped her gun. Black can’t let them go empty-handed, he leaves his sniper with her and goes back to get it. The fire reaches the lab, to the gas storage and the house explodes while he’s inside. Black is out of the game.

-        Green is miffed. He died so early, and for such a dumb reason! They told him not to go in!! Everyone crowds around them. He’ll be ok, they can yell at him when they win the game. They are comforted by that fact, but still, this loss is taking a toll immediately. They were supposed to be seven and now they are six. So they really will just die and not respawn. For now, they need to continue.

-        The team move forward a bit more but stop to rest for the night once they reach an old city. Red just lost her second in command. She needs someone else to fill in. Pink and White go hard trying to impress her all night. Their stumbling and forcefulness leaves Red more exasperated. She ultimately chooses Blue instead.

-        Where before, Yellow and Blue would be goofing off together, now he has to stay beside Red and help her be vigilant and strategize. Yellow feels a bit left behind again, but Blue reassures it’s only temporary. For them to win the game.

-        They take a rest in an old mattress shop. Perfect for their sleep. They take turns being on watch, not taking off their suits. They were told to keep them on at all times. For safety reasons. And the slight discomfort they felt sleeping with them wasn’t unbearable. It was a calm enough night.

 ~~~

-        A shift in perspective to Orange, she’s been watching the livestream nonstop from the comfort of her home. She checks the media (idk technology I guess these phones just work within their space? Underground? Lolol man idk XD sorry) and everyone is sad about Black being the first to go. Somewhat meanly, people start callously saying Yellow or White should’ve died first.

-        The question pops up. When will they be seeing Black? Now that he’s out of the game, he should be returning. No answer from the game manufacturers. Radio silence.

-        Her sister comes home late that day. She looks frantic and doesn’t even tell Orange hello. She goes straight to the kitchen, picks up a container, and packs in food. She does this when she’s staying the night at the office. Orange is concerned. She asks about Black’s return. Her sister flinches. She stops. After a few, quiet moments, she shakily confesses.

-        “He’s…. dead.”

-        It’s all over the media the next day. There was a malfunction in the game machine. There is a risk of the players dying in real life if they die in game. They just lost Black. Everyone is horrified and outraged. The government tries to reassure the public. They are looking into it. They will bring justice. Orange is beyond worried for everyone, but particularly Pink. She should’ve been there. She wouldn’t let them die. But here, at the Bunker, there’s nothing she can do. Only watch and hope.

~~~~~~~~~

-        Two days left. They’re doing well on time. Their map is a general one, only showing the straight line they need to take. No small details or markers to be had. Pink and White are still at each other’s throats, blaming the other for not getting the position beside Red. A scuffle comes to them. Not the same bad guys, new ones. More sophisticated ones. They aim for their heads, and shout insults at them. Calling them ‘Bomberbees’.

-        In the scuffle, Yellow notices something off. A child by themselves, no older than four or five, in the middle of the street, getting caught in the crossfire. They hide behind an old, toppled over car, but stray bullets hit the gas. It drips and Yellow remembers Black’s death. Without much thinking, they scurry from the fight to pick up the kid and run. Sure enough, a spark from a fire close by lands in the gas, and causes another fire. Then bam, second explosion. The kid is clinging to him, Yellow has gotten them out of the fire, but now they’re being chased by someone from the attackers. They get caught in a shop without exits. Yellow tries to shoot with one hand, but he can’t get the attacker. As they near, they pick up a heavy display, readying to crush Yellow and the kid. A shot hits them in the neck and stops them, making the heavy load also slip and fall on their head. They’re dead. Blue rushes inside. He’s furious.

-        He’s cursing at Yellow for putting his life in danger like that. Yellow lets go of the kid, and they run away immediately, scared of Blue. Yellow is anxious, wanting to follow the child. Blue is incredulous. It’s an NPC. Yellow tries to reason. Maybe it’s a side quest? It’s a kid alone in this dangerous hell hole. They should help. Blue shakes his head, they already lost Black. They can’t lose Yellow. Not for this. He uses his rank, as second in command. Yellow can’t look for the kid. It’s an order. They return to the group.

-        They had managed to kill enough for the bad guys to retreat, but the toll was heavy on their resources. In just these first two days, they’ve gone over half their ammo. Realizing their situation, Red begins prioritizing looting. She was right the first time when she said bad guys return with reinforcements. These new dudes can too.

-        Taking advantage of the big city, they venture a bit to get more ammo. They split into groups. Unfortunately, despite her protests, Pink gets put with White. Red was hoping they’ll work whatever they have going on. They bicker as they leave, and she already regrets her decision.

-        Yellow gets put with Green, and they go the opposite direction. Close to where the child ran off. He recounts what happened as they scavenge around, Green listening with only mild interest. Then she sees a kid herself, at the end of a street with a toppled skyscraper. It motions to them. They follow.

-        The kid leads them to their home inside the topped skyscraper. There’s a bunch more kids. They’re surrounding one of themselves, a hurt girl. The boy Yellow saved quietly steps forward and asks him to help her too. Yellow and Green look at each other. Side quest?

-        Blue and Red are on their own. They have the easiest time out of all of them. They started by looting the bodies. They never really got to appreciate it before, but these gory details…. Went above and beyond. Almost felt surreal to Blue that he was gathering bullets from the pockets of a man’s bottom half torso, his top half across the room. He suspected if he took off his helmet, the place would smell too. Red is quiet, but she eventually breaks the silence. She apologizes for putting Blue as her second in command without asking him. He shakes it off. It’s alright. Black’s death was unexpected. Black’s death. Blue almost shivers thinking about it. Everything in the game has felt so lifelike. He’d hate to go out with a bang like that. He tried making the situation lighter by bringing up what Black would be doing right now. Probably, he’d be escorted to the hotel nearby to stay and watch the livestream until his teammates finished. He’s probably beating himself up over being the first to die. Red shakes her head, remembering how her friend hated losing first. But more than that, he hated being separated from Green. This would be his true hell. And the comments he’ll get on his news feed! The roasts! They laughed, imagining it. All for his lover’s gun. Green has him whipped. Blue sorts through some more piles of trash, the laughter dying down. Behind his smile, he hid concerns. It was so fast to die here. No health bars to keep in check. Nothing but realism. He had to keep Yellow safe.

-        Cut back to Pink and White. Though they hate each other, they do work together. There’s no point letting their disagreements drag the group down. They manage to find an old gun store. Jackpot? As they scavenge, a wild, and mutated animal enters the store. A chase ensues. White is quick and small. He manages to get away fast, leaving behind the stocky and slower Pink. She curses at him for not sticking to her. She gets cornered as more of the same mutants show up. She decides she needs to blow them in one go. It’s her only choice. Though it’s one of her last three, she readies her grenade, but is beat to the punch by a giant beam crushing all three mutants. The dust settles and she sees White on top of the beam, having pushed it down with his entire weight. He’s hurt.

-        He turns on his healing, but it’ll still take a while. She helps him up. She’s salty, but grateful. He’s limping. They’re far from the group. And they still need to go back and check for ammo. Stuck together for longer, they finally break the ice. She was impressed by how quick he was. He hesitantly takes the compliment. As they continue, curiosity burns. She’s been chastising him for so long, she wants genuine answers. She asks him why he chose to be a medic. He says he didn’t. He was forced into it because, naturally, his siblings and parents already filled other roles. She doesn’t like this answer. So he relented?  Just like that? She lets him have it. Orange loves being medic. She put her heart and soul into her job. He just does this because of his family.

-        White bites back. Yeah he gave in. His family is so overwhelming. His entire life was already given goals he didn’t choose. An idea he had to live as. Of course she wouldn’t understand. No one but them would understand. He has no choice. But he doesn’t want to disappoint or be a burden. That’s his reason for training! He…. Breaks down at this. He cries. Pink is very uncomfortable. They reach the gun store and separate again. Its quiet with the occasional sniffles. Pink feels…. A bit bad.

-        They do find ammo. White heals. They walk back. Pink relents after a few minutes, and tells White that… he isn’t.. the WORST medic. He did manage to be second in the competition. That counts for something. He’s surprised by her try at peace. He also gives in. He says he’s sorry for taking Orange’s spot. He honestly didn’t ask for it. But his family… Pink is surprised by this confession. So he didn’t get in because he pulled strings. It was his overbearing parents. She finally gives up her hatred for the short dude. It’s not helping either of them. They return more successful than the others, being the second group back. To Red’s delight, White and Pink aren’t fighting anymore. She gives them both a pat and congratulates them. She’s proud they can work through their differences. As she leaves them, they both sigh at the same time. Then look at each other. Oh yeah. They’re still rivals.

-        Yellow and Green get back late. They tell the group about the kids. Blue is quick to groan, but Red takes an interest. She allows the team to accept the side quest. They just need to help one hurt kid, after all. They turn to White, pleadingly. Can he do it? White gulps, the pressure being on for him to succeed. Now was his chance to prove himself as a medic.

-        Still not sure how to make the healing system work exactly, but ultimately, he succeeds. The kids swear he’s a wizard, but he brushes it off. Still, he’s flattered and riding a high from his success. They say goodbye to the kids, who take a liking to White, Green and Yellow for being nice. They still don’t like Blue and are wary of Pink and Red. Either way, they leave, and the three favored talk about how real the kids acted. The NPCs in this world are well-made.

-        They’re on the move and there’s some lighter bickering between White and Pink as they continue trying to get Red’s attention, but she ignores them. They halt their walking as a familiar event occurs, dirty beat up cars coming and circling them. They stop and open. A big man, clearly in charge steps out. He’s there to give them a warning. When they stepped inside that normal-looking house, they were in Crumble territory. His lackeys foolishly followed behind, and now the building is gone. He’s barely placated these ‘Crumbles’ by making a deal with them. To catch this team and bring them back. His lackeys point their weapons. Are they going to come quietly or do they need to make a scene?

-        Pink is excited. “Oh the plot is picking up!” It’s a fight. It’s super close, the hardest fight they’ve been in by far, but it’s completely thanks to their armor that they get the upper hand, and leave by stealing a vehicle. All those driving games taught White how to be a getaway driver well. They escape, and along the way, ditch the car in case they can track it. They survived the second day.

-        Back to it being night, they make a fire and gather around. They have bedrolls to sleep in, but it’s uncomfortable. One person will stay guard while the rest sleep. They SHOULD be sleeping in their armor no problem. But especially with the bedrolls… its uncomfortable. So Pink takes hers off. As they choose spots to put down their rolls, she ends up setting hers next to White. She tells him he’s impressed her today. “If you can’t make it as a medic, you can definitely win competitions with those skills you know.” White is embarrassed, but… hopeful. He liked the thrill of going fast. Maybe… this could be something he’s good at. As Pink lays herself down, she slips and hurts herself on a jagged rock. She starts to bleed. White stares. They’re baffled. Having never taken their suits off prior, they hadn’t realized they can bleed. “It even hurts.” Pink laughs it off. “Damn, they went all out for this.” White agrees, but it still doesn’t sit well. Red passes them and his concern fades into thoughts of her instead. He gets up.

-        Red is first watch. He stops by to just…. Tell her she’s doing a good job leading them so far. Red is surprised. He never talks to her first, always shy and skittish. She smiles back at him, sadly. She thanks him, but she can’t take the compliment. Black’s loss was a failure on her part. A real good leader would’ve held him back by force. It was a stupid death, no way around it.

-        After an awkward silence (because White didn’t know how to follow that up), Red decides its her turn to be nice. She thanks White for saving them today. Her compliment is genuine, and she follows it with a head pat. He’s incredibly happy from this, and goes to bed looking beet red with a goofy smile. Pink notices. She decides it’s time for her to get a bit more aggressive. Gotta put down all her cards before slowpoke seals the deal.

-        Pink’s shift is next. As she goes to relieve Red, she also tries for small chat. It doesn’t work. Red calls her out for not being in her armor. Pink says she’ll get it in a bit. Red starts to leave, she is tired. Pink blurts in a moment of impulsiveness.

-        “When… all this is done, can we go for a drink?” Red stops and turns around. She’s confused. “Uh.. sure? I imagine we’ll all have a big celebration with alcohol anyways…” “Yeah, but I’m not asking to just get wasted. I’m asking to.. be able to get alone with you.”

-        Ah. Now Red gets it. She’s embarrassed. After a momentary pause that feels like forever, she speaks. “I’m… sorry.” Pink is hurt. She knew she had less of a chance with her but she’s still hurt. Pink brushes it off. “It’s ok.” Red still looks like she has more to say, but… she turns back. She’s tired and now isn’t a good time. The stream is still on. God, Red remembered and so did Pink. She just got rejected in front of the whole Bunker... Pink is frustrated and cant sleep even when her shift is done.

~~~~~~~~

-        Back at the Bunker, Orange watched the confession and felt terrible for her friend. She had been embarrassed today. Still, more than the concern for her love life, was the concern for her life. The confession was secondary to the threat of them all dying.

-        The media has blown up much much more. Everyone was scared for the player’s lives already, but after today’s stream, more joined in. The people that hated White have mostly turned around, finding his day as redeeming. Instead, blame was shifted onto his family as they were now seen for the perfectionist robots they were. But more than that, they have now effectively put their youngest in danger for his life by forcing him onto this game. Very unexpectedly, the Whites…. Showed remorse. They never expected to sign away their child’s life. It was just supposed to be another prestigious event to get their name into. They’re mad at the game developers and are with the people hounding the government to get answers. They’re mad, and they want their family member back. Alive.

-        Yellow also begins getting his own fans. Showing care for the NPCs, especially contrasted with Blue’s disregard of them…. Blue fans are buzzing. What kind of person doesn’t care for children, EVEN in a game? Defenders of Blue make their case, it’s a dangerous situation and they’ve lost Black. Though he doesn’t know it, keeping everyone in the team alive over NPCs IS the way to go. Still, it doesn’t sit well with half his supporters, and alliances are shifting. Yellow is gaining followers.

-        Pink’s bold declaration made her gain new fans. Many proclaimed that if Pink made it out, they would gladly take her. Orange grimaced at these. Red, likewise, got a lot of…. Hate. Pink fans thought she was too mean with her rejection. Red stans defended her right to say no. There was a battle between the two, and in any other day this would be normal, but the underlying pressure of either not making it highlights their hate for one another. These could be their last moments, and now they’ll spend them awkwardly. Orange sighs and drops her phone.

-        All day, Orange’s sister has been out of the house. Though she had taken food with her, Orange guesses it wasn’t enough. Orange hasn’t talked to her all day, not after finding out her friend was in danger and her sister was part of it. There are no words to describe her feelings. Still. With how stressful things are right now…. Her sister should be at her top game trying to fix this. She should be eating well. Orange makes her dinner, still… upset but resigned to what’s happened, and goes to deliver it. Having done this before, she has no problem getting through to her office. She meant to leave the packed, warm lunch in her desk if she wasn’t there, but she dillydallies when she finds the picture of White on her sister’s screen. She looks around. No one is watching her, everyone busy with the catastrophe at hand. She clicks through and discovers. Her sister specifically made the deal to keep her out of the game. To bring White in. In her emails, she seemed aggressive this be done. Even threatening to quit her beloved job. Orange hears the clicking of her sister’s heels and returns everything back the way it was. She sits down at her sister’s seat with the dinner in her lap and her phone in her hand, pretending to have been waiting for her. The interaction is normal. She hugs her, gives her the food, and leaves. On the way out, she sees a group of her sister’s coworkers rush out of a familiar room. The room that’s always been showcased as where the players would be held. She slips behind the cameras and peeks in through the door’s small window. The machine that was supposed to connect everyone’s minds is… empty. They’re not here. Orange’s stomach twists. Where are they then?

-        Hearing more people coming, she rushes out of the corridor and out of the building. She has too much to think about. Too many implications. She. Wants. Answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-        One day left. They are close! They wake up and get ready. Their last stop crosses through a town. They’ll get to interact with more NPCs! Everyone is excited. They begin the walk, Blue talking to Red, Green to White. Pink stayed quiet. Yellow is concerned for his sister. All their time spent here, she’s been making googly eyes at Red, and now she won’t even look at her. Oh no. He knows whats up.

-        He tries to cheer her up, reminiscing her old girlfriends… and some other nice girls waiting back home. Pink snorts. She’s not in the mood for this. Not from someone like him. Yellow is hurt. What does she mean someone like him? Much to his dismay, Pink gives him a look. Then she looks back at Blue. … she knew? “You knew?” “It’s… not exactly subtle.” She teased. “You’ve liked him since you wer-“ “PINK! SHUT UP!” “What? Rude.” Yellow looks furious. Slow realization dawns on her yet again. She forgot that they were on a stream. Ooh dear.

-        Now they were both in a bad mood. Yellow terrified of going back when they won, to having clips of his sister’s words thrown in his and Blue’s face. He never wanted to confess! This will ruin their friendship! And the audience backlash!!!! Blue has a lot of diehard stans that… to put it mildly, are not keen on giving him up. To hear his own best friend, whom they barely tolerated already, has a crush on him. Yellow. Was. Scared.

-        Pink feels so guilty. She was already in a crappy mood and now she’s gone and made things worse. It’s her turn to try to reach out and reassure Yellow, when more dust picks up from behind. They hear the sounds of vehicles. Oh great, there’s more. They ready for a fight, but are caught off guard when the cars aren’t stopping. They instead, zoom by, each one trying to wrap a rope lasso around a member as they move. Most of them dodge or cut the ropes in time. Pink doesn’t She’s caught by the midriff and dragged along, her armor taking most of the hits for her as she bounces along the ground. This is NOT her day! Her teammates chase after her, but the cars are too fast. Thinking fast, she pulls a grenade from her backpack. The one she didn’t use against the mutants. She aims, and luck is on her side as she’s able to chuck it inside the open window holding her rope. The car explodes and she’s blown back. She hits her helmet. She dents it. Her livestream is shut off.

-        Her teammates get to her just as soon as the cars double back and try to lasso them again. They’re prepared now, dodging and even pulling someone out by yanking on the rope. They kill them. Per Red’s orders, they aim for the wheels. They get one car to pop, the others drive away, having failed. The car they left behind is quiet. They inch closer. They see the figure inside, staring at them. He opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, Green from behind everyone shoots him in the head. She needed to practice using Black’s gun anyways. Everyone congratulates her for her aim… though it wasn’t as good as it could be. She laughs with them, promising to give up being a sniper one this was over. She’s only taking over because she lost her gun.

-        Pink gets up. From her reads, its clear her livestream set up is too jammed to start back up again. Her footage is lost now. It’s a bummer. Yellow helps her as they continue moving towards their destination, but neither speak. Still mad. Still guilty. They reach the town. It’s huge! And unlike the abandoned city, it’s full of people… They decide to stay and explore a bit. They had time, their destination was just a ways across from here. They’d make it.

-        Trying to distract herself from her conflicting emotions, Pink leaves the group when they’re not looking to go to a bar. There, she finds what she believes to be a mini quest. An old man is complaining about what he calls ‘the abomination’ taking his wares the other day. Pink jumps into accepting this NPC’s quest, to defeat the abomination and retrieve his goods. She follows his directions to the outskirts of town. To a normal-looking cabin. Wanting this to be quick she carelessly blasts the front door open and immediately, a fight begins. The abomination has green fur, different sized golden eyes, and scales and spikes scattered around its body. The abomination makes some clear sounds that reminisce garbles. So it can’t even communicate. This has got to be it.

-        They fight, almost destroying the home in the process. The abomination almost bites the dust with a full face blast, but manages to scurry away, Pink hot on their trail. In the chase, she follows it out of the town… into a valley… behind a fence clearly stating danger… The creature leads her to a cave where it gets darker… and warmer… By the time she notices her radiation alarms going off, she’s already feeling sick and exhausted. She passes out.

-        She comes to outside, feeling something in her mouth. She swallows unconsciously, but gags at the foul taste and sputters. She looks up at the person holding her. The abomination. Pink is quick on the draw…. Except her gun is not with her. Neither is her suit. She panics but a voice is heard from behind. “She saved you, and you still want to blast her?!” She turns around to see a shiny, scaled person judging her. “You should’ve left her in the cave, Charger.”

-        The abomination makes more garbles, with a shrug. Pink is confused. With the help of the draconic(?) (who is the abomination’s brother???) the situation is cleared up. So the quest was a lie. The old man is a smuggler, and the goods they confiscated where weapons stolen from another smaller town nearby. Pink was being played. Pink apologizes, not knowing what else to do. She had thought this was just another clear cut mini-mission. Who knew this game had moral complexity like this?

-        Charger forgives her, to her brother’s annoyance. Pink stick around for a bit, offered a place at their dinner table. She got to meet their oldest brother, and taste what local food is really like. It’s not bad. She gets back her suit and weapon. She’s allowed to go. But before she does… she ends up opening up to these nice NPCs. Why not? Her comms where off and her livestream camera was busted anyways. The NPCs nodded along and Charger gave her a hug by the end. The middle brother gave a few words of wisdom. “So it’s not what you wanted. But at least you’ve got a great friend to add to your collection. And she sounds pretty bad ass… you gotta keep those close.” Pink laughed. Yeah… she’s been lucky in the friend department. She mused how much she missed Orange. She got to leave finally, a load off her shoulders. She went back to the group, where stuff… is going down. The town is in chaos and her team is in the middle of it. What happened while she was gone?

-        When Pink left, the group had decided to split again. Green, Blue and Yellow went to see something (idk lol haven’t worked this out yet) and White and Red stayed together. They explore the local food and shops. They have a nice time taking everything in. They peak a few people’s curiosities, but they aren’t outright being aggressive, so the NPCs leave them alone. It’s a fun day…. One could even say…. It’s like a fun… date…

-        White can’t hold it in anymore. He’s ready to confess. He takes her to a secluded spot and very nervously fidgets with his helmet… taking it off and begins to talk by bringing up a memory. The day Red helped him. Red’s attention is piqued. What about it? White continues. That day, he had hit his alltime low. He was ready to quit gaming altogether. But she… gave him hope again. Made him strive to be someone worthy of working beside her. Her cheeks redden and her eyes widen. She’s realizing where this is going. White continues. Being here, watching her work…. He was content with just staying in the background... but after today. He holds her hand, he himself turning into a tomato. Nervously, he blurts. He wants to stay by her side, even outside of this game. He has his eyes closed. No sounds respond to him. He nervously opens them to see Red’s expression. She looks sympathetic… but that’s it. His heart drops. “White…” His face stays aflame, he wants to cry.

-        With a shaky voice he rushes out. “Oh-nonono its ok I just. I pushed this on you- Im ok I just-“ “No. White, listen to me.” He stops his tumbling and listens. He wont look at her, but he’s readying himself for her response. She sighs, and takes his shaking shoulders. “I like you White… but I’m not… interested in being in a relationship. With anyone.” White’s shakiness drops. Ok… now he’s looking at her. Her expression is sincere. White is confused. Red makes a disgruntled noise. “I should’ve explained this sooner to people… I’m not looking for any romance. I just. Don’t have any interest in it.” She looks away, taking another breath and continues. “I know most people don’t understand it but please… believe me. This isn’t me lying to you to make your rejection easier. I…. genuinely am trying to… get you to understand.” Her expressions. Her trying to hard. He’s seen enough. He’s convinced. And he’s honestly... touched. He sniffles and rubs his eyes, he was just about to cry a second ago. But he feels it’s silly now. He’s still sad, but more than that. He smiles at her. He thanks her for confessing this to him… he hopes this means they can stay friends. She smiles back, relieved, beaming. Of course. She thanks him for understanding and ends the conversation with a hug. It’s a nice rejection.

-        It’s at this moment, that they are attacked. Caught completely off-guard, they are easy targets. Still, they put up a fight. Red can get to her gun and fends them off. White isn’t as lucky. He’s knocked down easily, tied and gagged. He’s got a concussion, but he’s still fighting to stay conscious. Red chases after them, shooting. People around the streets flee from the scene. Green, Blue and Yellow heard the commotion. They run and are ready to help, weapons raised. The kidnappers know they are outnumbered. But they have leverage. They hide behind White, holding his struggling body. If they shoot, they can hit his soft nogging. The one holding him grips his hair tightly. White makes a noise of pain.

-        Pain. In game. The team looks at one another. Red tells them to put their weapons down. They slowly do. A car comes blasting through the now empty streets. Their ride. They’re taking White. If they want him safe, they’ll come with them without any problem. More bad guys get around them. They’re ready to bind them. Red is the quickest shot. She knocks back the person behind her, manages to shoot the two behind Green and Yellow, and Blue followed suit with his own. She points her gun to the one holding White, but a sharp cry of pain makes her hesitate.

-        What was he doing? He twisted White’s arm forcefully and doesn’t stop until it snaps. White is screaming. His arm socket has popped off. It hangs loosely. The holder is cursing at them. They should’ve played nice! He throws White into the car and jumps in, closing the door. The car slams it. They shoot but its too late. White is gone. They’ve lost a member to an unforeseen obstacle.

-        They’ve failed.

-        And more than that.

-        Those cries… wont leave their heads. Red throws her gun in anger. White was in pain. There is pain in this game. Real, fucking pain. Blue and Yellow immediately look at each other. Green is in shock. What the fuck is going on.

-        Pink returns to this, White missing and the group in shambles. Pink is confused. Of course there is pain. Had no one else noticed? They look at one another. They never left their suits. They never got hurt before this. No. Only White has gotten bruises from the pillar he toppled. Only Pink has gotten cut from a rock. Their only concerns were dodging bullets that didn’t even penetrate their armor. They didn’t think pain would be a factor. This new information sets a series of horrid questions through their brains. It was this easy to get hurt. And Black? He died in an explosion. His suit may protect him from bullets but not from fires that hot. He may be chilling back home now, but at what cost?

-        What madman programmed realistic pain into a fucking game.

[th3okamid3mon]

Gisaengchung (Parasites) [SPOILERS]

A lovely tale on why you shouldn´t trust people!

Sinopsis: 

A family barely subsists in a basement they call home. Unemployed and at the border of misery, a job opportunity is presented to the older son Gi Woo, which consists on giving english classes to the daughter of a high class family. Step by step he gains the trust of the owner and begins to introduce his own family as workers in hopes of getting more money from them. 

Writing and characters (+some acting):

I am not very familiar of Korean movies, I´ve heard about some good movies but never actually watch any from the country. Now, I´ve heard about Bong Joon-Ho since I watch one of his previews works called Snowpiercer and even though that kind of movie is not exactly my favorite I have to admit it was really well written and the visuals were really creepy but pretty in some twisted way. 

Gisaenchung´s story is really well thought, all the details fit together like a puzzle of 500 pieces or more. It had to be meticulously written so to make some sort of sense and even then some things dont make so much sense, but Joon-Ho has a cover: this movies is a drama, suspense and dark humor movie. When you have a super dramatic rich family with their over the top reactions and mannerisms in an only drama movie it would be seen as a joke if they were trying to look serious or be taken seriously, in this case works perfectly since they are used as comic relief, specifically the rich mom being the most gullible and most dramatic of all. Their purpose is accomplish perfectly and the sheer dumb and naive nature of the mother works in favor of our bunch of vermin. 

It is a very understandable and digestible plot: you have a poor family of scammers, they get an opportunity to scam a family, they proceed to scam the rich family by pretending to be strangers to each other and working as a house keeper, a driver and 2 teachers, and then they get discovered. At the simplicity it doesnt sound that entertaining I suppose, everything in between is simple yet complex and then it goes into fucked up territory almost from 10 to 110 really quick. 

This family are assholes! Like... Complete assholes, the name of the movie is after them! They take advantage of a character that is super anxious about her children and is super naive and is really lonely because of his husband leaving for work a lot and completely destroy 2 lives in the process too! They get the husband´s driver fired by framing him as a sex addict with a kink and the housekeeper is fired by making her look like a tuberculosis patient. This people are awful! They are manipulative, dangerous, assholes! And yet... you kind of root for them? That´s how good the writing is. You know they are awful, you know they are manipulative. Hell, at the beginning they use manipulation to probably get someone fire and get money from a small pizza company they work for as box benders. AND THEY FUCKED UP AT LEAST A QUARTER OF THOSE BOXES! They are not good! 

...But who can blame them for being like that? They are living in a really bad situation, they are stealing wifi from a neighbor so they can check a WhatsApp to see if the pizza place send them a message. They were talented at sports, the daughter knows how to work with programs like photoshop and probably other types, the son is really smart reason why he was given the job as an english teacher and to be honest he is kind of good at it. They are not lazy people. The situation is not good for them and they can´t exactly get a good job due to not having a degree. It´s actually kind of sad to see their potential being wasted due to their economic situation. Of course anyone would survive in however manner they can, even if that makes them a bad person in the process. 

You have a rich family that supports and loves their children, shown as getting both of them private ¨teachers¨ (not enough love I guess, due to not fucking checking this people up in the first place and only trusting the recommendations of a college student). They aren´t bad people, they treat their workers fairly and they respect them and when there´s reason to fire someone they try to do so respectfully as not to damage their reputation or shame them (so much). You should feel sorry for them because they are so nice and are being scammed but you can´t shake the feeling that they kind of deserve it for being so naive. Well, at least not the children, those kids have 0 control over who their parents choose. THE PARENTS ARE SO DAMN DUMB! The mother specially! So anxious about your children learning and exploiting their talents but not so anxious to get the first whoever that crosses your ears? You feel bad, for them and maybe you dont get angry, they antics are not anger inducing, they are hilarious because, as i explain before, they over react A LOT. I don´t know if that was a directors decision or if the actors did what they pleased, they fit too well in the scene to not be planned.

One thing that stood out to me were the dialogues, they made sense but they became a bit descriptive in certain points.There were really good silent scenes, there was a good balance between dialogues and silence, though I don´t know why I felt certain dialogues were too much? Maybe it was with their reactions as well, Korean and older Mexican movies have a thing in common and that´s a level of exaggeration. Sometimes it´s good, sometimes it gets the spotlight and not in a good sense. With the rich family there was no problem, it was with certain characters like the daughter of the scam family that overreact in one scene. Since they were drunk it kind of made sense but it there wasn´t exactly a follow up of his outburst. it passed relatively quick so it wasn´t much of a problem. 

Sound and music: 

The dialogues were well said, there was no difference in volumes and it had no noise. The silent parts had a good sound, whether it was background noises or music, it never felt out of place. The sounds were actually relaxing at some point, specially with the rain or water flowing. It had a good crispiness on them, they sounded natural and not manufacture with materials. The music wasn´t over used or overbearing, it was mostly in the background. It wasn´t almost present in certain scenes, you could hear it but it was very low. It didn´t had weird spikes and it was kind of nice. Not exactly the most memorable. 

Photography and art: 

First... Some examples:

I mean... WOW. The different lights, the shadows, the colors, the difference in lighting from each set. EVERYTHING IS GORGEOUS. Easily identifiable, with that I mean if you see this screenshots you would probably recognize them immediately. I don´t know how original the setting is from other movies but MAN is it gorgeous. The shots are most of the time open, details are hidden in the background (even when they can be a bit blurry, sometimes there something behind), the lighting is the first thing you´ll notice. There´s so much contrast between the highlights and shadows, even though most of them are not really strong. 

The colors schemes for each place are not entirely different, I think the reason is they wanted to portray that both families have certain similarities, mostly the only difference being the living situation. It´s really interesting how you can find warm colors in both families, they all love each other, both families support each other and their interests. The parents praise their children (even though the scam family probably shouldn´t praise illegality but, meh...at that point it can be consider too late)  

The art department went OFF with this one. You can feel the filthiness and close space they live in, their living situation is bad but they manage. The other family is clean and clear and it has to be perfect that way. I think there were 2 parts where they work even harder. 

(This is a kind of Spoiler for the end) When they use blood, it tends to look fake in some movies, in here it looks really, really red and dark. The makeup for the strangled neck also was a nice touch and look really good. 

The other part I think was really well accomplish and that also might have taken FOR EVER TO MAKE IT WORK, was the flood, because it not only involved flooding and ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD, it involved a toilet spewing black water out as if it was puking. How did they manage to do all that? HOW MUCH WAS THE BUDGET? Geez, How many TAKES TOOK TO ACCOMPLISH THAT?! It look hella gross and the way it was spewing water was very realistic. 

There´s an entire sequence where three members of the family gets out of the rich house and walks towards their home and each step they take they descend even more, but that´s not all, it is raining and water is flowing and pouring, it looks fantastic and the neighborhood gets flooded and there´s stuff out getting fucked over. The makeup and the art design were crazy here, I wish and hope and pray they got paid well because MY GOD this was hard work at its finest. 

Conclusion: 

I need to watch more of this foreign movies and so do you! If you haven´t seen any movie out of Hollywood, you should do so. Maybe this one is a bit too much though. It goes well but there are certain parts that are a bit slow and then it goes fast and then slow again, it can be a rollercoaster and I´d be lying if i wasn´t expecting the movie to finally end. It is entertaining and it isn´t that long (2:12 hours), it doesn´t have any popular references. This movie was thought to be seen by an international audience. If you as an USA Citizen (´cause I´m not calling you Americans, America isn´t a country and USA is not the center of it) feel uncomfortable to be shown or for your culture be mock, well TOO BAD GET USED TO IT! Nah, I´m kidding. The kid in the movie has an obsession with indians and the family acts like USA is like high standard but in a mocking kind of way? My brother actually thought it was a Get Out situation so... 

This movie has a perfect blend of suspense and humor, the drama is palpable, it is there, the suspense and dark humor are the spotlight though. The actors are really good and the dialogues are not complicated to follow. It is pretty funny, heartwhrenching at points (specially the end) and entertaining movie, if you want to start watching foreign films you could start with this one. 

The worst part of the story is that both sides are right to react the way they did, and it´s kind of sad. 

This is what I took from it:  Poor or rich, it doesn´t matter. People are humans and they all have needs. And those needs will be satisfied one way or another. When you have a family, You will do whatever it takes to make them happy and sometimes drastic measures will be used. 

Go watch it, you won´t regret it. 

-Sincerely creeped out, T.O.D 

[darkhymns-fic]

A Sunday Drive

Lloyd and Colette go out for ice cream! How this turns into a car race is anyone's guess.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder, Sheena Fujibayashi Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: Modern AU! Also this is several years old but I still think it's a bit funny??? Maybe?? No guarantees.

---

“Your dad finally got you a car?” Lloyd looked at the hatchback parked in the driveway. The back bumper was a little scuffed, showing its clearly used history, but Colette was beaming at it like she had gotten a shiny convertible for her birthday.

“Yeah! Now we can go where we want!” She already had the keys in her hand, clicking the unlock function.

Lloyd suddenly got the best idea in the world. “Let’s go to Dairy Queen!” He practically jumped to the passenger side. “Right now!”

“Okay!” She gently opened her car door, sliding inside. “We can go everyday now if we want!”

“Seriously?!” This was almost too much for Lloyd to handle. He nearly put the keys into the ignition himself. “Come on, let’s go!”

Colette didn’t rush through it still, despite Lloyd’s insistence. She adjusted her seat, her rearview mirrors, and looked carefully behind her as she backed out into the street. Lloyd let her handle all the driving activities, while he just messed with the radio and started thinking out loud about what toppings he was going to get for his chocolate caramel sundae.

“I think lots of sprinkles would be good,” Colette added. She kept her eyes on the road, keeping well within the speed limit, and a safe distance from other cars. “I’m really glad I got my license. I thought I’d never be able to!”

“Hey, I saw you. You practically got a perfect score on that test. Raine would have to be crazy to not pass you.”

She smiled, giving him a quick glance before turning back to the road. “I hope you get your license soon, too.”

“Ehh, we’ll see about that,” Lloyd waved it off. He hadn’t even had the chance to do the road test. Because he’d failed the written test portion twice so far. He didn’t think he’d do good on the road test even if he did pass the written exam. Whenever Dirk gave him driving lessons, his father would always start yelling if he made the slightest error, making the thought of him getting behind the wheel fill his head with anxiety.

He lowered his own seat back, crossing his arms behind his head as he relaxed. “I think it’s just good that one of us can drive. Hey, maybe we can go to the beach later?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” Colette agreed. “I can’t wait to go.”

This was a pretty sweet deal that Lloyd had. Colette gently hummed as she drove down the streets, the roads empty for the most part. She didn’t go too fast or too slow, and Lloyd was able to just daydream as the shops passed them by. He thought he could get used to this. Colette didn’t seem to mind driving him around.

Not even a minute later though, both heard the most obnoxious music playing from behind them. Colette blinked, looking at the side mirror to see who was there, and Lloyd instantly sat up, rolling away the kinks in his neck. A car engine revved noisily, quickly catching up to them.

Lloyd recognized the voice singing along to the music and groaned.

“If you wanna be my lover! You gotta get with my friends!”

“Is… is that Zelos?” Colette asked innocently. They’d seen the guy at school, always dressed in really well-made jackets, arms draped around a different girl’s shoulders each time they saw him.

“Yeah.” Lloyd’s ears were already hurting. “Maybe we should roll up the windows.”

Instantly, an expensive-looking sports car with the sunroof pulled down, moved near them. It was a garish red, (nice color, though) the sunlight reflecting off its polished surface to blind the eyes. Zelos drove a little erratically, laughing all the while as someone in the passenger seat was trying to yell over the ungodly volume of the car’s music.

“Oh!” Colette pointed to the car. “It’s Sheena.”

Lloyd was confused. “Why would she drive with him?”

That wasn’t a question he would get answered anytime soon, especially with how furious the girl was. Her voice traveled across the roads, succeeding in just barely being heard. “The hell, Zelos! Can you drive a little slower for once?”

“Shush! Here comes the best part! Make it….something something…Friendship never ends!”

Zelos’ long red hair billowed out behind him as he sped up his car, sunglasses catching the glare of the sun. Sheena was raving by this point. “Goddamn it! At least turn the music down!”

Lloyd wasn’t sure how someone like Zelos got his license, but then he supposed anything is possible when you were rich.

“Do you think he’d want to go get ice cream with us?” Colette asked him politely.

With Colette, Lloyd was always honest. “I don’t know if I really wanna deal with him today.”

Just as Colette was about to make a right turn, she immediately had to brake. Lloyd caught himself on the dashboard from the movement, his seatbelt still pinning him in place. He looked up just in time to see that same red car drive in from of them in their lane and make that same right turn. Colette’s car stayed still in the road, the engine still gently humming.

“Geez! That stupid jerk didn’t even signal.” Lloyd settled back, irritated. “We need to try to not drive when he’s out.”

What was weird though was that he heard no remark at all from Colette. He turned to his left. “Hey, Colette? You okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He couldn’t see her eyes well enough. She was still staring straight ahead at the road, her hands gripped on the steering wheel in their correct positions. For a moment, Lloyd was sure she was going to cry because of what happened.

Before he could reach out a hand to comfort her, she stepped on the gas violently, sending their car screeching on the pavement as sped towards Zelos.

“C-Colette! Wait, what are you-?”

Zelos and Sheena were at a stop light with no other cars around. The music had been turned way down by this point, possibly due to Sheena’s interference. She was still yelling at the rich kid that she had the misfortune to bum a ride from.

“This is seriously the last time I’m ever driving with you! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, easy on the language! That can’t be good for your complexion or- oh, hey there, angel!” Zelos waved at Colette as she stopped next to him, braking harshly. “What’s up?”

“Zelos.” Colette said in a calm tone, unsmiling. “You cut me off.”

The guy blinked stupidly. “Huh? Oh, well my hunny here is getting real hungry though for some Dairy Queen, so I had to rush. You know her and her sweet tooth.”

“Hunny?!” Sheena yelled. “Hunny, my ass!”

“Zelos,” Colette called out again. Her voice took on a different tone, scaring Lloyd a little. “What you did wasn’t very nice!”

“Hey, I’ll make it up to you later. How about a date next Friday?” Zelos grinned, angling his shades down to give a sly wink.

At that point, Lloyd noticed Colette reach for the car's lever, putting it at a different spot. Wait, this was a stick shift?! How had he not noticed that before?

“Uh, Colette-”

“Ohhh, I get it!” Zelos was laughing again, revving up his car’s engines in the most annoying way possible. “Little angel wants to race, huh?”

Lloyd’s mind went numb for a second. “Wait, WHAT?!”

“Come on, Colette. Bet you can’t beat me there!” And once the red light was gone, Zelos instantly sped away, screeching past the intersection with an equally screeching Sheena.

Colette followed him right after.

Lloyd was sure he was going to have a heart attack any second now.

“Colette!” He tried to reason, too afraid to even sit forward. They were in a more recreational part of town for now, but soon they would get to the shopping district, where more cars and people were around. “Slow down!”

She didn’t seem to hear him. In fact, she pressed down on the accelerator more, her speed getting dangerously close to the triple digits. Her car was right next to Zelos, who was laughing all the way as they sped down to the corner where Dairy Queen was. Lloyd risked a quick glance out Colette’s side of the window, and could see that Sheena wasn’t enjoying this much either.

They shot past another intersection and were now officially in ‘more population’ territory. How were there no cops around?!

“Gonna win!” Zelos’ voice traveled to them as he moved ahead, the Doppler effect making his voice sound more distorted than usual.

Colette, in response, accelerated harder. She suddenly shot past Zelos, squeezed her car into the one lane parking lot and instantly braked when she reached a parking spot.

Lloyd felt like he was gonna hurl.

Immediately, he got out of the car, stumbling as he did so and went down on his knees, heaving out air. He heard Zelos’ car pull up next to him, and then a really hard smacking sound, followed by the guy’s cries of pain.

“Ow! Sheena, stop that!”

“You idiot! You could’ve gotten me killed!” Lloyd looked up barely, just able to see Sheena swing her heavy sports bag at Zelos’ back, chasing him out of his car and onto the sidewalk.

“Gah! Stop! You’re definitely not getting laid after this.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Followed by another whack.

After that, Lloyd decided to look back at the sidewalk underneath his hands, taking deep, choking breaths. They had gone so fast, he was sure he saw his life flash before his eyes. There… there had been so many detentions…

“Lloyd?” A quiet, apologetic voice was above him. He felt a hand press against his back, moving around in small circles. He turned to the side to find Colette there, smiling in embarrassment. “Do you… still want some ice cream?”

For his answer, Lloyd turned away and threw up his breakfast on the sidewalk.

[jeonggukingdom]

may I request 19 + 21 with tae tae, please? you can combine them or write two separate ones, whichever you prefer. :)

[ ˌdɛsɪˈdɪərɪəm ]

noun; a powerful desire or yearning.

Prompt: “Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”  +  “You want to watch me do what?“ Pairing: Taehyung x ReaderGenre: Smut, phone-sex operators!AUCount:  7.4 words

warnings: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, phone sex, daddy kink, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex, edging, rough sex, light breath play, squirting

AN: this AU was inspired by >this

Sweat gathers in the shape of glistening pearls on your neck and falls down to your clavicles before reaching your back, inducing a shiver to run down your spine in their trail. Your body trembles in both annoyance and satisfaction for, in the incredible heat of your bedroom, even sweat seems to be somewhat refreshing.

You heave out a sigh, opening the door of your room in the hopes of creating a gentle breeze and freshen up your four walls — which you haven’t left for the past twenty-four hours.

You look at your phone screen, checking how much time you have before your working shift starts — if you’re even allowed to call it that.

You close your eyes, shaking your head as you recall the conversation you had with your best-friend — and also roommate — a mere month prior to this very moment.

He had come to you with one of his dazzling smiles, excitement spilling out of every pore, and an alarming glint in his eyes.

Usually, summertime would mean going back home to your families, spend the days at the beach or inside your apartment doing absolutely nothing except contemplating the sweetness of being lazy all day long. But, this time around, you both wanted to find a job for the season and store up some much-needed money before your final year at the University began. Surely, you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of the type of job he came out with.

You had been looking to be a waitress of some sort — didn’t matter if at a bar or a restaurant or a shop, as long as the pay was decent, you would do it. But Kim Taehyung had found the perfect job. Well, at least according to him.

That day, under the scorching sun at the cusp of midday, he had found you sitting on the grass, right under a tree, seeking comfort in its shadow with desperation written on your features for the upcoming final test of the year. Without saying a single word he had shoved a self-printed piece of paper in your hands and, the feeling of utter bewilderment you had whilst reading the little words printed on it is something you will never forget.

 "Looking for phone-sex operators.

For info, contact the following number

XXX-XXXX-XXX"

“Are you kidding me?!” the whispered shriek that left your mouth had him chuckling, tilting his head to the side in that adorable puppy-like way that always made him get away with basically everything. And you hated him for it.

“Come on! The pay isn’t that bad, you can stay absolutely still in your bed the entire summer and earn a decent amount of money. All you need to do is help some dudes to get off!”

Kim Taehyung and his godawful blinding smile could make climbing mount Everest seem the easiest task in the entire Universe.

To this day, you don’t know whether it was a lack of sugar in your blood due to the torrid weather, or even your everlasting crush on him that made you open your mouth and pronounce the very word that led you to this moment right here.

“Ok.” If you could have slapped yourself in the face right there, you would have. Of course, Kim Taehyung can make you agree to abso-fucking-lutely anything. The very bane of your existence, that’s what he is.

And now, sprawled on your bed whilst reminiscing the past few weeks and how the job has proven itself to be more demanding than you initially thought, you’re still unsure whether you should thank him or curse him. Sure, the job can be quite fun but you learned the hard way that more minutes mean more money and keeping the attention of a man with a hand around his cock isn’t exactly the easiest job on the planet. Not to mention the plethora of kinks people have and that you need to comply with even when they are not only not your best alley but, also, completely foreign to you. And in those cases, working in front of a computer, the homepage fixed on Google’s searching-bar, is imperative.

Though you would never admit it out loud, the job is really not as bad as you usually depict it when Taehyung even dares to say a word about it. You have to recognize to yourself, at least, that the work still gives you enough freedom to relax and do whatever you want — or don’t want — to do.

Your calls don’t usually come one after the other unless it’s the weekend and past ten, allowing you the time to wind down and gather yourself before going back into character and, sometimes, you even get a little present on the side. Someone with a hot voice and a thing for pleasuring others whilst pleasuring themselves.

You whine — your white shirt uncomfortably sticking to your skin — and with a huff, you jump out of bed, your thoughts discarded by the incumbent need of a shower or literally anything that can alleviate the feeling of intolerable heat.

You storm out of your room, heading straight to the bathroom and then, before you can finish crossing the hallway, you hear it: his voice. The low timbre and his husky whispers send shivers down your spine and you find yourself taking slow, tentative, steps towards his room.

Door slightly ajar — probably opened in the same hope you had of finding solace in a thin waft of fresh air — you find him sitting comfortably on his bed, legs crossed and disheveled chestnut hair slightly sticking to his forehead due to the thin layer of sweat that empurples his skin.

He hums and the sound makes you freeze on the spot as you quickly catch on the fact that he’s on the phone with a client. Your eyes close as you try to force yourself and walk out from a scene you’re not supposed to be witnessing.

This is a promise you made to yourself the very first day you started working in this field: you would never, never, listen on any of his calls.

“Curl your fingers for me, baby girl,” his voice resonates in the silence of his bedroom and it sends a pang to your already aching heart, making it even harder to peel yourself from the entrancing view.

Your crush on him is something you’ve been fighting for a very long time now — trying to go on dates; have casual sex with strangers in hopes to get your mind off of the images of Taehyung dancing or kissing with another girl; trying to make him jealous by hanging out with other guys around him. Obviously, nothing has worked so far.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

He grunts at the response of the girl at the other end of the landline and you find yourself inching closer to the doorstep, trying to drink up all he has to offer, stealing something that is not meant to be for you.

“Mh, I bet you feel so tight,” his head falls on the cushion behind him and he closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip as he always does when he’s thinking hard about something.

You can almost hear the moans of his client and it makes your thighs rub together, the heat spreading from your core to your whole body.

“Cum for me, baby.” He nearly growls his last four words and you have to gulp down a strangled moan at how unbearably hot he sounds. What had saved you up until now was the fact that you had never witnessed or heard him doing anything with a girl. He was always attentive on keeping it quiet whenever a girl was in his bedroom and, secretly, you’ve always been thankful to him. But now, now that your imagination has the real deal as a reference, you know you are forever doomed.

He chuckles lightly and it almost feels as if he’s taunting you, knowing exactly your deepest thoughts. He hums at his client words and cocks his head to the side, staring at the ceiling, pensive.

“Have a great day, baby.” He whispers back to her as she hangs up.

His duty as a caring partner is now done and he tosses his phone away on the mattress, a sigh of satisfaction emitted from his mouth.

You watch him rub a hand on his forehead to gather up the sweat that coiled there during the session and inhale deeply before reluctantly — as his grunt suggests — get up to his feet and aim for the door.

Your steps are hurried as you inch backward to conceal the fact that you’ve been there a good amount of time — enough to witness such a private moment, at least.

His eyes meet yours as you freeze a few steps away from his doorstep and you’re welcomed with one of his dazzling smiles, head slightly tilted to the side.

“Oh, ___”

You gulp down, your eyes falling to the ground as you try to suppress the incumbent blush you can feel wreathing on your cheeks.

“I’m dying in that godawful room,” he moves right past you, not even questioning your presence so close to his doorstep, “Worse than a bloody sauna!”

You hum, spinning on your heels to follow him up to the kitchen where he pours a generous amount of fresh water into a glass.

“I was about to take a shower,” you fix your eyes on the counter, biting down your lips as you try to keep at bay the evident layer of embarrassment your words are laced with.

You can hear him gulp loudly and emit a sound of satisfaction at the newfound appeasement.

“Ah, shower,” he hums, tilting his head to the side with a dreamy look on his features, “I will totally do that as soon as I’m done with work.”

His back hits the washbasin and he closes his eyes as a pleasant breeze passes through the room, offering solace to both of your hot and sweaty bodies.

“When is your shift done?”

“Mh, in about forty minutes,” he pours himself some more water and gulps it down heavily, tilting his head backward to welcome the fresh liquid down his throat.

“About that…” your voice is thin and uncertain as you intertwine your fingers, torturing the little bones as you dare to ask such a lewd question out loud.

“Would you mind if I…” you trail off, mustering the courage to voice your words out loud becoming harder as you realize what you’re about to ask of him, “If I’d watch you?”

You don’t know where the thought came from — or rather, you don’t know what exactly prompted you to demand such a preposterous request. Still, the words leave your mouth and silence engulfs the entire apartment.

“You want to watch me do what?” His tone betrays the incredulity your words left him with and you close your eyes as you shake your head.

“I’m sorry, I should have never asked!”

You take a step back, inhaling deeply as your eyes fix on his expressionless features — a trait you always hated of him for there is no way of telling what Kim Taehyung is thinking unless he decides to express it himself, unlike you who are, as a matter of fact, an open book.

“It’s just that sometimes I find it hard to keep the clients hooked on the phone for a long time and I figured maybe I could learn from you.” Your words are rushed, the lie conceived under a layer of true statements passing unnoticed. Your struggles are true, yes, but the reason you asked such a thing of him is far less innocent than that.

“Oh.”

Silence falls back between you, thickening the air all around you.

“Ok, then.”

You watch him shrug as he places the glass in the sink and moves towards his bedroom.

“R-Really?” You stutter and follow him like a lost puppy, a pang of guilt in your heart as you realize what you just tricked him into doing.

“Of course.” He turns and offers you one of his blinding smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides, “If it helps you, why not?”

He cocks his head to the side and winks at you and you fall deeper into the chasm of shame and mortification.

Your steps towards his bedroom are tentative as if you’re expecting a trap to snap from the ground and suck you in but still, you follow him inside.

His bedroom is enveloped in a dim light: the covers on the window filtrating the sunlight to keep the heat contained as much as humanly possible.

His shadow dances on the wall as he takes place in his bed and you gulp down, unable to stop your eyes from traveling from his beautiful features down to his body.

The white shirt he wears is clinging to his skin due to the layer of sweat, the sight almost mesmerizing for you can perfectly outline the muscles of his upper-torso.

Clearing your throat, you divert your gaze fixing it on the green carpet between the door and his bed, suddenly finding the pattern really interesting.

“Are you going to stay standing there the whole time?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, chuckling at your evident embarrassment. It seems absurd to you too, considering it was your idea in the first place.

You take uncertain steps, unsure of where you should sit down considering the bed is definitely not an option. With your bottom lip trapped under your teeth, you decide to sit on the chair right across from his bed — a choice you do not consider as the wisest since it will provide the perfect point of view that will send your soul into eternal damnation.

Minutes tick by in utter silence and you’re about to stand up and flee, ready to make this pretty picture something that never truly happened if not in the land of dreams — or nightmares, depending on the outcome — when his phone rings and you both jump on your seats, startled by the sudden noise.

He smiles sheepishly at you before picking up the call. His hear pressed to the receiver, head slightly tilted on the side as he nods in contemplation. You know exactly what is happening: before you’re connected with your client you will get a small debrief on the kinks you’re required to satisfy.

His gaze drifts from the plain wall to you and he mouths the words ‘daddy kink’ towards you. You nod in understanding — probably too eagerly to fall unnoticed — and he smirks into the receiver, his thumb pressing down the speaker button.

“Daddy,” the voice of the client fills the room and it immediately makes blood rush to your cheeks. This is it, there is no escaping what you throw yourself into now. This is going to be your downfall.

“Yes, little one?”

“I need your help, daddy,” the girl whines, her tone meant to resemble one of a cute little girl and, you find yourself edging on your seat, your legs falling up and down in utter anticipation.

“What’s wrong, dear?” His voice is as deep as the ocean and it evokes goosebumps all over your skin. Your eyes close to savor the moment, your imagination tricking you into feeling his words as if they were meant for you.

“I feel so hot, daddy,” she whines again, the sound of clothes shuffling filling the silence between her words.

He hums, his head resting on the cushion as he sprawls his body on the bed, eyes completely focused on the ceiling as if you weren’t even there to spectate all of this.

“You should take off your clothes then, dear.”

You can hear the girl undress as Taehyung suggested her and you can almost picture it in your head: the sweaty body enclosed in uncomfortable clothes that stick to her skin and the way they come off quickly, eager to find the reward at the end of the line if she behaves for her daddy. The way she bites down her lip in utter anticipation, sweat gathering between her breasts and down her back, making her shiver in both excitement and relief.

“I’m still hot, daddy,” the pouting sound in her voice draws a picture of a petite girl in your head, the type that Taehyung seems to favor — big eyes, fluttering curled lashes, beautiful long hair and lips that can entrance, rapture and deceive a kind human soul as his — “Feels like burning flames between my legs.”

“Ah,” he emits an understanding sound and shifts on the bed, head now resting on his hand as he faces the window, “Do you want it to go away, sweetheart?”

The word of endearment makes the girl hum happily in the receiver and her words of assent are quick to follow: “What do I do, daddy?”

“Brush your hand across your neck,” his instructions are precise, calibrated, stretched out enough to make the call last longer but not quite to get her bored and lose her along the way, “Now travel south, slowly, delicately, and cup your breast.”

The girl hums and sighs and you imagine her hand closing around her mound, fingers titillating her nipple just like he wants her too, her back arching in the air in pure elation.

“Oh, daddy.” Her sigh fills the room and you watch him squirm on the bed, his eyes darting quickly towards you as if he just remembered your presence.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his eyes focusing back on the window before his next instructions fall from his beautiful mouth, “You have to go down even further, little one.”

“How much further, daddy?”

“Caress your stomach, make little circles as you descend between your legs.”

Her sighs fill the room anew and you can pinpoint the exact moment her hand comes in contact with her sex for she emits the most languid of sounds and it sends your body into a frenzy. The need to touch yourself, to get that relief she so dearly seeks herself, becomes almost unbearable as Taehyung speaks his next words:

“Brush your fingers against your folds, sweetheart.”

The girl whines yet again, the sound strangled as if she’s trying to keep as quiet as she can possibly be — maybe because she cannot be heard for she is not alone and she really isn’t supposed to be doing any of this. A thought that, somehow, makes your heart beat faster and the excitation between your legs all the more excruciating.

“But daddy, I feel even hotter now.”

Taehyung closes his eyes, gulping down as he falls flat on his bed again, his hands behind his head to support him as he fixes his gaze right on you.

“Tell me, darling, do your fingers get wet as you touch yourself?”

Your breath gets caught in your lungs, the lewd question making blood rush to your cheeks as he scans your expression. It feels as if he’s stripping you of all your clothes and walls to see right through you, to the very heart you kept concealed from him for so long, landing right on your feelings for him.

“So, so, wet, daddy!”

“There’s only one solution, then, my little girl.” He bites down his lip, his eyes finally leaving your face to blankly focus on the wall right next to you, “You have to use your fingers and fill yourself up, dear.”

The girl whimpers and you can picture perfectly her tentative fingers teasing her clitoris before moving down, teasing her entrance to comply with his commands.

“Only one, dear.” He instructs, almost sternly, and the girl sighs as her first digit curls inside of her. You envy the way her walls must be contracting now, welcoming the little amount of relief even that one little finger can provide her.

“Good girl,” he hums, shifting on the bed as the distinct sound of her finger moving inside of her fills the silence.

“Add another one.” He talks slowly yet his words are always precise, thoughtful, and the girl executes them to perfection, the little moans and sounds she produces reverberating in the apartment, “How does it feel, dear?”

“So good, daddy, it feels so good!”

The squelching sound takes you by surprise, the image of her wet core too realistically painted in your mind for you to discard it. Your thighs squeeze together anew, your hands grasping your knees — knuckles white — in the effort to keep your composure.

“Can you fit another one in?” His voice is low and his eyes darken as he focuses his attention on you again. You can see his gaze shifting from your face to the way you’re seated on the chair and the evident tension in your muscles. He licks his bottom lip unconsciously and your heart bursts in your chest. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to seduce you — or rather to break you until you’re begging him to make you his.

“Oh daddy, it feels even better now!” The girl’s moan snaps you out of your thoughts and you’re forced to divert your gaze, fixing it on your feet as he resumes his character, for you cannot take the lust painted so beautifully in his dark pupils.

“Curl them inside of you, dear.”

A loud moan fills the room and her rapid breaths depict a perfect image of a girl reaching her limits.

“Can you put me on speaker?”

The girl hums, shattering your first thought of her being somewhere not so private, and the sound of her fingers fucking her mound becomes more distinct. You fight to strangle down the whimper caught in your throat — now as dry as a desert.

“Touch yourself with the other hand, just like you did before.” His eyes close and he takes a hand up to his forehead, brushing his wet hair backwards as he chooses his next words carefully, “Caress your breast, squeeze your nipple for me and imagine my tongue around it.”

The girl whimpers loudly and you close your eyes, your body trembling in the effort to keep yourself seated there — the thought of running for dear life and forget this ever happened more prominent by the second.

“Press your fingers on your special spot, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, daddy!” Her scream fills the room and your vivid imagination betrays you yet again. You can picture oh to well that one hand moving in and out of her core at a furious pace, the other one pressed right on her clitoris, drawing figures eight on the bundle of nerves until she can’t take the pleasure anymore and unravels right for you two to witness.

“Just like that, dear,” he almost growls in the receiver, shifting uncomfortably on the bed in what you can recognize as excitement, similar to your very own, “Cum for daddy.”

The girl snaps, her moan loud and prolonged as the orgasm washes away, her rapid breathing only an inkling of how much pleasure just coursed through her limbs.

You both wait for his client to wind down and murmur her final words before hanging up, leaving you with the aftermath to deal with.

You gulp down, thousands of thoughts roaming inside your head as you try to collect yourself and put on a believable façade.

Taehyung’s eyes follow your every move, curiosity glinting in his eyes as you stand up, moving towards the door without being able to shift your gaze away from him.

Your steps take you closer to him and as your eyes fall to his lap in the attempt to avoid his scrutiny, you notice the bulge between his legs. The sight makes your mouth water and your heart miss a beat for all you can think about is that maybe, just maybe, it was your presence that caused that reaction and not the girl at the other end of the line.

You bite down your lip, your eyes traveling back and forth from his face down to his crotch, all reserves about concealing your thoughts gone the instant you were met with the sign of his excitement.

“Did you just look me up and down and bit your lip?” His words pierce right through your thoughts and awake you from the trance-like state you were thrown in.

You take in the frown of his eyebrows, the thin line of his lips as he cocks his head to the side, studying you.

“I’m…” your words trail off as he gets up from the bed to reduce the distance between your bodies. Heat radiates from him and feels like scorching flames against your skin even though he’s not touching you in the slightest.

You open your mouth but words fail to come to your aid, to gather and form an excuse for everything wrong you did in this heated afternoon.

“'Cause if you did,” he takes a step closer, his eyes shifting to something more feral — something that makes you feel like a pray about to be eaten alive, “We’re having sex.”

His thumb brushes against your cheek, the rest of his hand hooking your chin to push you forward until his breath can mingle with your own.

“Right now.”

His lips come crashing on your own and it feels like heavenly fire spreading through your entire being. His mouth is soft against yours and it awakens every little nerve in your body, spreading light through your limbs and up to your brain. The world turns into cotton candy and as your eyes close, your mouth opens to welcome his tongue.

His hands cup your cheeks forcing you forward until your bodies intertwine, merging together as he kisses you with all the passion he’s capable of.

“God, you taste even better than I thought you would,” his lips brush on your swollen mouth, barely giving you time to catch your breath and register what is in fact happening.

“Since when?” your voice trembles as he attacks the soft spot under your ear, sucking on the skin to gather a drop of sweat and leave a purple love mark there.

“Last year of High School,” his voice low as he whispers his secret right into your ear, spawning goosebumps in its wake.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You croak out, regret laced in your words as you think about all the time you have wasted pining over each other.

“Why didn’t you?” His forehead meets yours and you drown in pools of chocolate brown, the deepness of his feelings finally sparkling inside his eyes, mimicking your very own.

“I was afraid of ruining everything.”

He closes his eyes, nose brushing against the tip of your own before his mouth meets your lips anew. This new kiss is slow, savored to the very last moment and it conveys all the sentiment you both hid for such a long time.

His arms encircle your back and you throw yours behind his neck, the desire of melting the boundaries between your bodies too great to stop yourselves. It shouldn’t start like this. It shouldn’t have been like this, at all. One of you two was supposed to confess and you were supposed to go on a date and do what every other couple does before this. Yet, your body falls on the bed and you can’t find it in you to stop the moment your dreams have been tainted with for a very long time.

His teeth graze on your bottom lip before trapping it in their grasp, pulling at the soft skin until it elicits a yelp of both pain and pleasure out of you. He ghosts over your jawline, his teeth picking at the skin every now and then, teasing you, relishing in the taste of you, learning every curve you’re made of. His lips are soft against your neck and you whimper as he sucks on the sultry skin.

“Taehyung…” your sigh gathers his attention and his deep eyes focus on your face again, a soft smile on his lips as he hums.

You lock gaze with him, your fingers lost in his locks as you pull him forward to kiss his intoxicating lips. His mouth parts and his languid tongue caresses yours, pushing it against your palate as he breaths in, the taste of you making him grunt.

“I want you so bad,” his hoarse whisper makes your insides constrict and you buckle your hips forward, meeting his covered erection.

“I’m going to drive you absolutely insane,” he growls on your neck, his lips attacking the soft skin with a newfound fervor that steals your breath away and leaves you absolutely speechless.

His hands caress your sides, his fingers sliding under the t-shirt to discover the skin hidden beneath it, his digits sparking up a fire in their trail upwards.

You lift your head to help him get you undressed and you watch him hum in utter contentment as he realizes you’re not wearing a bra underneath.

“You’re so beautiful,” his warm hand cups one of your breast as his lips attack the other. He kisses the expanse of your breast before sucking on the skin, licking the nipple until it is turgid in his mouth and you moan his name out loud.

His mouth trails open on the scope of your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake, gathering goosebumps wherever his lips decide to leave a kiss, his fingers entirely focused on your breasts.

His hands trail down to your hips before hooking down on your shorts, yanking them down to reveal your coated core to him. A content hum escapes his mouth as he notices the evident wet patch that taints your underwear.

“Look what you were hiding down here,” he cocks his head to the side, breathing on the cotton fabric to send a shiver through your body.

His mouth kisses your core through the fabric and your back arches towards the sky, the pleasure hitting you like a wave now that you can finally get the relief you’ve been craving for.

“How much do you want me to touch you?” his question is asked in a low tone, his words calibrated to extend the moment of torture now that he’s not touching you in any way.

“So bad, Tae, please” your fingers find their way in his locks again and you tug softly on his hair making him hiss.

“I’m going to give you the best orgasm you ever had.”

His words are followed by his fingers, dragging down the last piece of clothing before you’re completely naked before him. Your legs close together out of instinct, the newfound nudity filling you with timidity as he stares so intently at your mound.

“Don’t.”

He pushes your legs open, a scowl on his features as he resumes his focus between your thighs.

“You look absolutely perfect,” his words make your throat constrict and you find yourself almost on the verge of tears for nobody has ever made you feel as beautiful and important as you feel now, completely exposed under his gaze.

His hands move to your hips to drag you forward until you find yourself on the edge of the bed. He falls on his knees right before your mound and he lifts your legs up to grant him full access.

His fingers hook behind your back to squeeze your ass-cheeks before his mouth descends on your core.

His lips press against yours and he kisses the glistening skin softly, eliciting mellow whimpers from your mouth.

His nose brushes against your clit and your hips buckle forward, desperately seeking more friction.

“Do you know what edging is?” he asks between your legs, his breath hitting your warm skin, making you quiver.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you like the sound of that?”

You whimper in response as his mouth closes on your clitoris, sucking hard on the bundle of nerves.

“God, yes.”

His teeth graze on the delicate skin, teasing you until you’re begging for his touch and he complies, his mouth fully atop of your sex, sucking and licking as if you were a popsicle and him, a man consumed by burning thirst.

Your arms reach for your own hair as delight starts to build in your belly, your body jolting in utter thrill whenever he comes closer to your pleasure spot.

His tongue brushes through your lips and curls upwards inside of you, eliciting a moan to fill the silent room and causing your hips to buckle forward, searching for more. He’s relentless as he licks your walls, gathering your juices from within. His hands are grasping the covers under your body, knuckles white in the effort to keep a steady pace inside of you until you’re trembling, your abdomen contracting with your impendent release.

His mouth leaves your mound, ghosting over your sex as his eyes travel to yours, searching for your gaze.

“I could eat you out for hours,” his nose brushes on your inner thigh, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin and you groan in response, the image depicted in your mind too good yet too excruciating.

His hands search for yours and you drop your arms to your sides so he can interlock your fingers together, pinning you down to the mattress as his mouth finds its way back between your legs.

His pace is calmer this time, building up the pleasure slowly until you’re rocking your hips to the rhythm he has settled inside your core.

He hums as he sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks until the pressure in your walls makes you wail and halt your movements.

“Fuck, Tae.”

He shakes his head, his tongue reaching every corner it possibly can, his nose brushing against your clitoris as he resumes a sickening pace that has you on the verge of your climax in the span of a few minutes.

His grasp on your hands tightens, stopping you from thrashing on the bed and escape his deadly tongue and your back arches, your eyes rolling back inside your skull. It feels like you’re about to snap and get the release you craved for so long but, before you can come undone and coat his pretty face with your juices, he leaves your mound again.

His rapid breaths hit your wet core and even that sensation alone is almost enough to send you into heaven, everything about him being absolutely unbearable and intoxicating.

His mouth attacks your inner thigh, purple flowers blossoming there as he nips at the delicate skin, allowing you the time to wind down and cope with yet another missed orgasm.

His hands soften the grasp on your fingers and your body relaxes against the covers, your head hitting the soft mattress as you close your eyes, wetting your lips as you gather all your senses back.

It is only when your breathing has come back to a natural pace that his mouth finds its way back on your swollen: his tongue laps your folds, slightly curling every time it hits the center of your mound, his pace even slower than before, making you whine in both pleasure and need for something more.

His tongue is flat against your core as he slides his tongue up until it can focus on your clitoris, enclosing around it before his entire mouth welcomes it and sucks hard making you yelp.

His hands leave your own and he brushes his fingers against your entrance, his digits ghosting over the wet skin.

Without so much as a warning, two of his fingers slide into you with utter ease and immediately curl, aiming upwards to seek that special, toe-curling, spot that he has so easily found with his tongue before.

He sets a bruising pace inside of you, his fingers fucking you hard as he sucks on your hood. Your eyes roll back inside your head, your legs shaking as a new wave of bliss fills you whole until you’re teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Your walls contract against thin air as you’re left again dry and unsatisfied. Your groan makes him hum in amusement, his eyes fixed on your face as he licks his lips suggestively.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he smirks looking down at your sex and the overflow of juices he has so masterfully drawn out of you.

You bite your bottom lip, your legs spreading further apart as you arch your back to give him a perfect view of your entire body.

“Fuck me, daddy.” You drag the last words in a lascivious tone and you watch his eyes get darker as a growl escapes from his control. His lips kiss your mouth with utter ferocity — a clash of teeth and tongues that leaves you both breathless yet craving more.

He pushes you back on the bed entirely, climbing onto you as he removes his shirt with one swift movement.

Your hands automatically reach for the skin of golden in his torso, tracing the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. At this moment, with sweat glistening on his skin and his eyes focused on nothing but you, he looks like a deity and you’re prepared to surrender your soul to his generous hands.

He slips out of his shorts and boxers and his erection comes into view as it bumps against his firm stomach, the tip tainted in angry red with pre-cum leaking out from the head.

You lick your lips in anticipation and he forcefully grabs your hips.

“Turn around.”

Your body follows his command immediately, your head resting on the bed, eyes open as you try to look behind your shoulders and drink in the sight of him, ready to fuck you senseless. You hear the foil of the condom being ripped open and you can imagine oh to well as he drags the plastic down his length. A job you would have done more than willingly by using your mouth — a skill you’ve learned the first year of college and that came in handy more times than you can recall.

His hands grab your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as his eyes bore into your core, focused on the ever-leaking lips he has tortured for minutes.

The tip of his cock brushes against your folds, your juices wetting the length and making it sleek enough for him to push inside of you. He strokes your core with tormenting slow movements, your whimpers filling up the bedroom as you push your hips down, begging for more.

“You’re so eager for my cock, baby girl.”

“Please, daddy. Fuck me hard,” you almost cannot recognize your voice as you utter those lewd words, your tone almost childish as you chime your request out loud.

He curses under his breath and his cock pushes inside of you, filling you up with one swift movement until he’s inside of you balls deep. The sudden discomfort makes your body stiffen before the mild pain is subdued with the pleasure of finally being filled to the brim.

Your mouth opens into a gasp as his body lies on top of you, his lips kissing your temple as he coaxes you until your walls stop madly contracting against him. Your body relaxes as your sex accommodates him whole inside of you and he drags his length out of you just to slam right back in.

His arms trap your own and your hands intertwine again as his hips buckle against yours, long seconds passing between each stroke of his cock. His pace is slow, dragged out as he savors you whole yet the strength of his thrusts grows with every new stroke.

His chest heaves up and down against your back, his breathing ragged in your ear as he keeps pounding in and out of you with a bruising vigor that has you whimpering unceasingly.

His lips connect with your shoulder, kissing the skin as he picks up the speed, the sound of skin against skin filling your ears as his testicles slam against your swollen folds.

You moan loudly and he bites down your skin as his hips roll faster in and out of you, the sounds you produce guiding him towards the center of your core, right where your pleasure builds to his maximum. The head of his cock pounds right onto it until you’re seeing stars, your limbs trembling with the incumbent release.

Your hands tighten their grasp around his fingers, knuckles white in the effort of containing your pleasure to drag out this moment at its maximum but then, he slams into you with new-found fervor and something just snaps inside of you. It is something you never experienced before and it makes your ears ring loud and your vision turn completely white. You almost don’t register his cock leaving you as your hips arch towards the sky, your juices overflowing on the sheets, ruining them beyond salvage.

You open your eyes to catch the last drops of your squirting orgasm and a sob escapes your mouth as your body turns to jelly.

His cock slams right back inside of you and he drags your body back until you’re sitting on his lap, head resting on his shoulder as he guides down your hips with his hands.

“That was the hottest thing I ever saw,” his voice trembles as he breathes these words in your ear and you push down harder against his hips to grant him his release.

His hand ghosts around your neck before his thumb finds your carotid and firmly presses down on it. The air gets trapped in your throat and he slams into you faster, the lack of oxygen immediately making you light-headed but not enough to cover the immense pleasure building up again between your legs.

His fingers ghost against your sex and you jerk forward as they press hard against your clitoris before roughly rubbing your hood until you’re reduced to a moaning mess and you no longer have any conception of who you are and where you are.

Your legs quiver and your juices spill out of you in endless spurts landing onto the already soiled covers. Your thoughts get scattered away by the most mind-blowing orgasm you ever experienced, the frantic movements of his hips almost unregistered as he seeks his own release.

The sound of your bodies melting together fills your ears, the lewd squelching provoked by your wet core bringing you back to the pleasure still building in your core.

His hips buckle against you and still as your walls contract madly against him, milking his release out of him, your name falling from his lips in a deep moan.

Your bodies fall on the bed and he collapses right next to you before discarding the condom somewhere on the floor.

His arms are quick to encircle you, dragging you into his embrace until your head is resting on his heaving chest, your ear pressed against his ribcage, allowing you to hear the thrumming of heart.

“That was the best sex I ever had,” he confesses atop your head, his lips kissing your hair.

“I never…” your words trail off and he chuckles, the contentment evident in the way he hugs you closer, knowing he’s the only one who has ever been able to bring you to your breaking point and beyond.

Silence fills the room for a little while before he whispers his next words: “I know we did everything backwards but…” your head tilts upwards, your eyes meeting his as he poses his tender question, “Would you go on a date with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You giggle as he brushes your noses together, his blinding smile back on his features before your lips meet again, discovering themselves anew.

Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. 

[caelystrae]

Don’t You Love Me Now?

wow this acct is back from the dead after a yr bc its @letanafuck week and i plan on... hopefully... writing some kinks that i wouldnt on my main (but still horny) acct

todays prompt was old/young which tbh ive written abt on multiple accts before (two ghosts on here and scars & shadow both on my main) but u know.  i gotta let ana fuck.  so heres more new Content ig

ao3

Pairing: Anamercy

Rating: M

Words: 3.5k+

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested. Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is.

Or,

Angela may be getting older, but Ana realizes that she herself is just plain getting old, and isn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Aging was something that snuck up on Ana—a grey hair here, an age spot there, change so gradual that she did not notice it in herself, never taking the time to observe any one change in particular until, one day, she realized that she had come to look entirely different—and this does not bother her, particularly.  If she cared about any of it, she would have taken more note as it were happening, but it is one thing to recognize signs of aging in oneself, and quite another to see them in one’s lover, particularly when said lover is notably younger than oneself.

When Ana began to notice wrinkles around her own eyes, it did not bother her at all—if anything, she was pleasantly surprised to realize that, despite the Omnic Crisis, and all that followed, she had lived long enough to have any—but it does bother her, shortly upon being reunited, when she sees those same lines around Angela’s eyes.  Were anyone to ask her why, she could not say, because she does not find them unattractive, nor is it particularly surprising that Angela might have a laugh line or two at her age, but there is a nagging worry there, something she cannot quite put a name to which bothers her nonetheless.

That same feeling returns two weeks later, when, while Angela is looking for clothing for some event or another, Ana notices that one of her favorite dresses, memorable if only for how its bright color stands in contrast to the rest of her wardrobe, is conspicuously absent.  In response to Ana’s inquiring as to where it went, Angela just laughs, shrugging off the question by saying that in the past three years or so she went up a size or two, and that she does not mind it much, given her age, thinks it is only to be expected.  There is little reason to press the issue, particularly given that Ana quite likes Angela’s current weight, and does not want to give the impression that she feels otherwise, but still there is that something about the statement.

Another three weeks go by and Angela is frowning into the mirror at herself, fingers pushing her bangs out of the way so she can more carefully examine the roots of her hair.  While Ana cannot see precisely what her lover is doing, from her place outside the doorway of the bathroom, she has a fairly good idea.

“Staring won’t make the greys go away,” she says, and watches in some amusement as Angela drops her hands quickly, almost guiltily, turning at once to face her.  That amusement fades quickly when she sees the expression on Angela’s face, far from happy.

“Are they that obvious?” she sounds almost resigned as she says it, crossing an arm over herself in a way that Ana knows, by now, means she is nervous as well, “I hoped that maybe they wouldn’t be so obvious, in the blonde, but—”

“They’re not,” Ana reassures her, before she can continue the thought, “I wouldn’t have even brought it up if you didn’t seem so worried about it.”

“Ah,” says Angela, but it doesn’t seem to calm her any, for she bites her lip and turns her gaze away, towards the shower in the corner.  There is a considerable pause before she speaks again—they have known each other long enough, by now, that Ana knows when to push, and when to wait—but speak she does, “I don’t like it,” says she, “Feeling like I’m getting old.  Before you came back I was the oldest woman here, you know.”

Before speaking Ana shifts her weight, rests against the frame of the door, making sure that there is enough room that if Angela wanted to, she could push past, will not feel trapped during the ensuing conversation.  If her lover were to ask, that is her reasoning—not that she needed time to gather her thoughts, to choose carefully what to say next, although that is the truth.  It would be a lie, she knows, to say that Angela is not getting older, because certainly she is nearing middle age, and it would do neither of them any good to pretend otherwise, but that Angela is older than she once was does not make her old, particularly not in Ana’s eyes.  It clicks, then, what has been bothering her: for all that Angela is clearly older, she is still far younger than Ana herself; if Angela is old, what does that make Ana?

“You’re still younger than I was when we met,” says she, and it is true: eighteen years later, and Angela is still five years from the age Ana was then, even though just a few months under half of her life—and less than a third of Ana’s—has passed.

That does not seem to comfort Angela in the slightest, as she is still staring resolutely in the direction of the shower curtain when she speaks next.  “That doesn’t make me young,” she argues, and she is not wrong, necessarily, but certainly she cannot seem old to Ana, who only recently began to think of herself as being old.

“No,” agrees Ana, “It certainly doesn’t.”  Another pause between them, before Ana asks, carefully, “Is that such a bad thing, though?”

The hand Angela does not have pulled across herself now grips the sink so hard her already pale knuckles turn white, “You tell me.”

“I’m sure I can’t know what you mean,” Ana tells her, and tries not to sound too sharp, even if the comment immediately puts her on the defensive.  Outside of the subject of work, of their differing interpretation of what is right and what is wrong, the two of them rarely argue, but on the rare occasion that they do, neither is inclined to mince words.

“What are we doing here, Ana?  Sneaking around, never talking about our relationship in front of anyone, keeping everything a secret the way we always have,” she turns, suddenly, to look Ana in the eye, gaze sharp, “It made sense then—with how young I was, and you being so much older—but now?  I’m not young anymore, Ana.  Why are we still hiding, unless we don’t know what else to be?”

“Angela,” she begins more sharply than she wants to, pauses and takes a breath before continuing, “There was a rather stringent anti-fraternization policy then, if you’ve forgotten, and you haven’t made any mention of our relationship since my return, either.  I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Angela opens her mouth as if to object, but Ana is not done, has more to say about the matter, “And your age didn’t have anything to do with my attraction to you—if anything, I was worried I was too old for you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Angela says, and if she were not so obviously angry it might sound like a plea, “You’ve been strangely quiet every time I’ve mentioned my age since you got back.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”  In her anger, she had straightened up, moved forwards, but now she shrinks into herself again, leans back against the sink when Ana, too surprised by the turn of conversation to argue, does not respond quickly enough, “You don’t have to stay, if you don’t find me attractive anymore.”  When she says this, her eyes flick over Ana’s shoulder in the direction of the door.

“I’m not lying,” Ana says, trying not to be annoyed by the accusation, or at least not to show annoyance.  “It’s just… become harder to ignore, recently, how very much older than you I am, and always have been.  If either of us is too old for the other, it isn’t you.”

Angela laughs, then, relaxing at last, and grins at Ana when she says, “I daresay that’s part of your appeal.”

Hearing that should not surprise Ana, really, not with how eager to please Angela has always been, the way she flushes when Ana calls her a good girl, the age of the various celebrities Angela has mentioned finding attractive before, but it does surprise Ana, nonetheless—perhaps because she always avoided thinking about how young Angela was, preferring to focus, instead, on all the ways in which they were equals.

She really does not know what to make of this.

(Whatever allusions Angela might have made in the past

“That’s… interesting,” is what she settles on, after a considerable pause.

“Does it bother you?” Angela asks her, and Ana is surprised to find that it does not.

“No,” says she, without hesitation, but then, “It’s probably something we should discuss, though.”

“Probably,” Angela agrees easily, and then, stepping forwards to close the gap between them, “Later, though.  For now,” she moves a hand upwards, cupping Ana’s jaw and leaning down just slightly so that they are level with one another, “I can show you just how much I appreciate your current age.”

Who is Ana to say no?

In the years prior to their separation, Angela was never interested in taking control, always content to allow Ana to initiate sex and decide the pace; in the ensuing years she has grown bolder, although she has never said why, and Ana has never asked.  Seven years ago, Ana would not have wanted this, to be lead backwards and then pushed down onto the bed, for she had so little control of the rapidly unravelling Overwatch that she felt she needed to take it where she could—but now, older still, and maybe even wiser, if she is lucky, it does not seem like such a bad thing to let Angela take control for a short while.

(There is also the fact that it is easier, these days, for her to not be the only active partner.  She can only kneel or thrust or do whatever else for so long before she grows sore, and needs to change positions, and Angela stepping up and being less passive is certainly beneficial for the both of them, in that regard.)

So she allows Angela to divest her of her clothing, even if she is moving not nearly so quickly as Ana knows she could, nimble surgeon’s fingers pretending to fumble with the fly of Ana’s trousers, and toying with the hem of her shirt.  Ana wants to complain, to urge Angela to just hurry up, to joke that she is not getting any younger, anything if it would make Angela move faster—but she does not know, yet, how far she can push when Angela takes charge, and rather wants to see how their evening will turn out.

Eventually, it seems Angela has had enough with her teasing, and finishes pulling Ana’s clothes from her, kneeling above her on the bed, a knee just outside either hip.  Ana shivers, from the cold and the scrutiny both.  It is one thing to know that she has aged, and to accept it, but quite another to have just discussed it, and to find oneself wholly bare before another person.  When Angela looks at her she will see scars she does not know the origin of, for they have not discussed them since Ana’s return, including a rather grotesque one along her side, a jagged, light depression against the surrounding tissue, will see breasts that never returned to their original firmness after breastfeeding, and have only grown saggier with age, will see an abdomen which was once well muscled and that now, while still strong, does not look so.

(Angela, too, has changed, has more moles in more places than she ever did when she and Ana were first together, and from this angle her weight gain is more visible—even if it is difficult to know which changes in her silhouette are attributable to HRT and which are aging—but Ana is not looking at those things, is watching Angela’s expression as her own body is scrutinized.)

“Beautiful,” she breathes, before bending down to kiss Ana’s neck, one hand moving to cup a breast, and when she says it like that, Ana can believe it.  She lingers, with each kiss, moving slowly downwards towards Ana’s breasts, murmuring gentle praises between each kiss, stunning, gorgeous, strong, and it may have been decades since last Ana last let sweet words sweep her off her feet, but the increase in her heartrate is not purely due to arousal.

Perfect, Angela tells her before wrapping her mouth around a nipple.  Normally, she would only tease at it, licking it and flicking at it with her tongue, but perhaps emboldened by their earlier conversation, and her admission, this time she sucks at it in earnest, and Ana threads one hand in her hair to encourage her to continue, the other reaching down between the both of them so that she can touch herself.

These days, it takes time for her to be wet enough for a partner to comfortably touch her, and any embarrassment she might once have felt when tending to her own needs during sex has long since faded—and it certainly does not hurt that she knows Angela finds it arousing, a fact which shows as Angela redoubles her efforts at Ana’s breasts.

For several minutes, they are in a holding pattern, nothing escalating between them, and pleasant as it is, Ana finds her patience is beginning to dwindle when suddenly the timing of a particularly hard suck from Angela and her own thumb pressing against her clit coincide, and her hips roll involuntarily, breath hitching in response.

That, finally, is enough to spur Angela into action again, and after a brief—but necessary—pause to fumble around in her bedside drawer in search of lube, continues moving down Ana’s body, lovely whispered into the large pockmark left by shrapnel just below her ribcage, wonderful as Angela’s lips find her cesarean scar, and mine as she moves her hand out of the way and Angela finally, finally reaches her labia.

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested.  Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is.  It may be a surprise to look down and see Angela’s face amongst white pubic hair, but her heartbeat still picks up when Angela traces around her clit in little circles, and she still feels that familiar pull of arousal when she feels Angela’s free hand begins to creep up the inside of her thigh.

(There are, of course, some small concessions made for age—that Angela is careful not to move her hips beyond what is now their maximum comfortable flexibility being the most prominent adjustment.  And while once Angela might have dedicated a good deal of time to teasing, she does not do so any longer—it takes Ana longer, now, to come, even with greater stimulation, although those single orgasms are stronger than the multiple ones she might have enjoyed when younger—concentrating immediately on Ana’s clit.)

Years of practice have ensured that Angela knows well what it is that Ana likes, and it is not terribly long before she feels herself beginning to draw close to an orgasm, hips moving in time against her lover’s mouth.  If she were the type to beg, she might say more, or please, or something to that effect, but she has never been the type to ask permission for anything, and particularly not permission to come, when she has always worked at least as hard as her lovers to ensure that she orgasms.

Instead she presses insistently at the back of Angela’s head with one hand, pulling at her hair in the way her lover enjoys, brings her free hand up to her breasts, tenses her thighs in anticipation, holds her breath and—

—Does not come.

A deep breath in, and out, and she tries again to let go, good eye closing this time as she focuses inwards, tries only to feel, not the sweat on her skin or the cold on her nipples—still damp—but the tension of her approaching orgasm, the pressure of Angela’s mouth on her, the warmth and wetness and pleasure.

She is right there, and she thinks yes, please yes, I need—

—Yet, still, she does not come.

After some thirty seconds, she has to breathe properly again, and she untenses her thighs for a moment as she resists the urge to huff in annoyance; normally, this would be enough, and she still feels like she is there, like she could come at any moment, but for all that she tries the orgasm which is so close eludes her.

Angela must notice something, her frustration or the movement or the way her grip on her lover’s hair tightened and then relaxed because she looks up, for a moment, asking, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ana is quick to reply, and then, embarrassed, but firm enough that it is a request and absolutely not a question, “I just need a bit more, sometimes, now that I’m older, so…”

“Ah,” Angela says, and then, “I do have a vibrator, if you’d like me to get it out?”

“No,” Ana says perhaps a bit too quickly.  From personal experience, she knows that she is very particular about the settings she likes, and doubts that taking the time to find the right configuration on Angela’s vibrator is worthwhile.  “You don’t actually have to do anything differently, it just might take a bit longer than usual.”

(In truth, the added sensation of something inside her might speed things up quite a bit, but even after transitioning, Angela is not terribly fond of penetrating anyone with anything, and Ana does not want to make her feel as if she needs to do anything—they can discuss it another time, when there is less pressure.)

When Angela begins again, she is more forceful in her movements, focusing more on Ana’s clit, and it is nearly at the point of being too much, of Ana wanting to ask her to slow down or ease up—but she is so, so close.  It is all she can do to stay put, to not pull away from the intensity of the sensation, because she feels again that she is right at the edge, and she does not want to lose the orgasm by twitching away at the wrong moment.

A minute passes, another.  Ana tosses her head and fights the urge to whimper, to beg.

Another minute, and Angela rubs soothing circles on her thigh, nuzzles closer into Ana, reaches her other hand to try and hold Ana’s, the way she likes to when she comes—and nothing about the sensation of it is terribly different, but suddenly Ana is there, tipping over the edge and trying not to buck her hips too hard into Angela’s face.

The unexpectedness of the orgasm makes it feel almost torn from her, and she is surprised by the intensity of it—though perhaps she should not be, given how long she teetered at the edge.  Angela helps her to ride it out, and when she is finished moves up the bed to lie next to her, propping her head up on one elbow and idly stroking the side of her face with the other hand.

After a moment to catch her breath, she turns so she can better look at Angela, who is at her blind side, “Your turn?” she asks, not certain if Angela—still fully clothed—will want to do anything, but more than willing should she prove amenable to the idea.

“Once you’re one recuperating, sure.”

“Recuperating?” Ana demands, and then, teasingly, “Just how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Angela says with a smirk, “I seem to recall someone saying just earlier today how you were much too old for an only slightly-old person such as myself.  And you do seem rather out of breath.”

Ana clicks her tongue, and rolls on top of Angela without any warning, pinning her to the mattress, “I’ll show you out of breath,” says she, using one hand to move a now compliant Angela’s hands above her head.  She leans in as if to kiss her lover, waiting until Angela’s eyes have drifted shut, face pointing upwards, to release her grip, instead bringing both hands suddenly down to Angela’s sides to tickle her.

The sensation is no doubt dulled by the fact that Angela is still wearing one of her many thick sweaters, but she shrieks nonetheless at the sudden sensation, unable to squirm away, pinned as she is.

Perhaps they are, both of them, growing older, but that hardly means that they need to grow up, nor change in any other way.  They can be happy just as they are.

[bangtangurlarmy]

Apologize || Taehyung

Request - 1. alexandratae581 said:  Aah I am so surprised by your writing!! You're so talented!! Anyway I'd like a smut with Taehyung with fluffy ending and not in a bar!! Thank youu 💋            

                 2. Anonymous said:  Hii there!! I would like you to write sth with Taehyung being jealous but at the end I want to end up with a rough smut, if you don't mind!! All of this, with Taehyung and with fluffy ending,please!! Thank youu!! 💋            

Pairing - Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre - Smut, Fluff

Summary - Taehyung barely reacted to you getting close to other men. But it get’s interesting when someone who had a particular spot previously in your heart comes back.

Warning - Daddy kink, Orgasm denial.

You knew you weren’t supposed to be going out with Haneul, not because Taehyung wouldn’t like it, but also because you knew it would (probably) end in a nasty way. But what could you do? Your boyfriend had been too busy for the past one month, that an invite from your ex-boyfriend was enough to get you excited for an outing.

Considering how Taehyung was always chill with you talking to other men, you reasoned that even this outing would be as harmless as ever as you debated on how to word your text message you were currently typing to Taehyung.

‘Should I tell him who I’m going with or should I wait for him to ask?’ You spoke to yourself as you stared at the screen, you already in your casuals as you got ready to leave. It was just this one last thing you had to do before leaving.

'I mean.. He knows who Haneul is but..’ You scrunched your eyebrows together as you thought of a reasonable explanation. Finally deciding on just telling him the truth, you typed in your message.

Once you made sure it was worded right, you clicked the send button and didn’t bother waiting for a reply since you knew he would be busy. He always was.

You were, within around ten minutes, in the café where you were supposed to meet Haneul.

Haneul came along not too long after, the meeting being anything else but awkward, to your surprise.

'I really thought we’d be awkward the whole time.’ You said as both of you laughed, taking some time to recollect your old days. You both decided to visit the park which was not too far, a place which held very dear memories.

'Do you still come here?’ Haneul asked as he walked over to a swing before sitting on it, offering you the one beside it. You smiled before accepting it, 'Yeah, sometimes.’

You felt your phone vibrate and you took it out of your pocket, Taehyung’s name on your screen - he had replied.

'Okay.’

Was all that the message had said. To be honest, you were half expecting him to lash out and get territorial, since you were sure he was insecure about Haneul and you. You sighed, placing your phone back inside your pocket before swinging your legs.

'You okay?’ Haneul asked from the side as he watched your face get dull. You shook your head, 'Is it alright if I mention my boyfriend?’

Haneul nodded, letting lose a charming smile, which assured in you in many ways.

'He has been busy for the past month, and I completely understand he barely has time for me. But, sometimes, I just feel I’m not even in a relationship - or I’m the only person who’s staying at home, not sharing it with anyone. I can’t help but think sometimes that he is seeing someone behind my back, but again, I know he won’t..’ Your self-doubt kept growing - the opposite of what you had actually expected since you and expressed it. You didn’t think your doubts of Taehyung cheating on you would get stronger, if anything, they were supposed to be getting eliminated.

'So why don’t you leave him?’ Haneul asked, makind you whip your head to his direction.

'What?’

'Leave him, Y/N, and- and come to me.’ Haneul smiled at you, but you would never forget the time he had deceived you with the same exact smile.

Still, you didn’t flat out tell him no, you hesitated. You were torn in between both of them, out of which one was genuinely in love with you, and the other simply getting into your pants. The problem was, you were too confused to know who was who.

'I…’

But as you were about to speak again, you thought you felt your phone vibrate again, making you check it. The moment you pulled it out, your eyes went wide.

You were on a call with Taehyung, and you hadn’t known.

'Shit!’ You cursed before bringing it to your ear, 'Hello? Hello- Taehyung-’ The line cut, and you knew right then Taehyung had heard every single thing you had just said.

'I’m sorry, Haneul- I have to go. Bye!’ You deserted the swing and ran as fast as your legs could carry you to the nearest Taxi stand. You couldn’t be more thankful to find a Taxi in seconds, asking the driver to take you Taehyung’s office.

You knew you were in just more than big trouble - heck, you were almost sure he was going to break up with you.

You paid the cash to the driver in such a hurry that you almost dropped most of your money. Cursing under your breath,  you rushed into the office, the staff already recognizing you.

You didn’t pause to even greet Taehyung’s P.A as you ran ahead and stopped right outside his door. You silently prayed he was not in any meeting or wasn’t particularly busy. You knews all eyes were on you, making you glance back at everyone, their gazes instantly shifting elsewhere.

Without knocking or barely catching your breath, you opened his door, his eyes darting to you with anger. It was like he knew you would come. You closed the door, locking it as you huffed, taking a minute to lean your back against it to calm your heartbeat.

Once you knew you could talk, you walked towards his table, dropping your purse along the way. You stopped in front of the table, his hands interlocked in front of his face as he watched you intently.

'Tae-’

'Strip.’ His voice remained low, cutting you off. You shot a look at him,'What?’

'Strip out of your clothes, Y/N.’ Taehyung’s heated gaze made your breathing haphazard as your shaky hands went to the buttons of your blouse. You unbuttoned your shirt, your eyes following your hands because you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle his stare.

Once your shirt fell to the floor, Taehyung had to resist with all his will to not take you right there on the floor. He couldn’t be more thankful for the table that stood between you two. Your hands were fumbling with your jeans, and once you had them off, you dared to spare a glance at him. You knew he wanted you completely naked.

You quietly undid your bra and trailed your panties down your legs before stepping out of them, you feeling the embarrassment creeping up your body.

'Come here.’ Taehyung called in a gruff voice and you moved without delay to stand in front of him. He stood up, taking off his coat and throwing it on the floor before pressing you firmly against his desk, his left hand coming to your neck and wrapping around it.

'Look at me,’ His right hand, trailed down to your chest, while his eyes trained on yours. His fingers found your nipple and began playing with it, rubbing it and occasionally tugging at it, while he held you still with his hand against your throat and your body in between the furniture and his clothed self, 'I do not want a single moan from that pretty mouth of yours. You will only answer me when I ask you questions. Understand?’ His hand moved further down and stopped at your hip before he began grinding his clothed member against your heated core slowly. He pressed harder while his fingers teased around the insides of your thighs when you didn’t respond, 'Did you understand?’ He growled into your ear and you breathed before nodding your head.

'Speak up, Kitten. Daddy can’t hear you.’ He ran the tip of his tongue on a spot behind your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine.

'Yes.’ You managed, but his left hand tightened the grip around your throat, almost cutting off the air circulation, 'Yes, what?’

'Yes, Daddy.’ You immediately choked out. His breath fanned your ear as he let out a chuckle, 'Good Kitten.’

His fingers found its way to your folds, that were already dripping with anticipation. He tutted, 'Already so wet for Daddy when you know you have done bad. Is this how you apologize, baby doll?’

You bit your lip harshly to prevent the moan that was threatening to escape as his fingers rubbed your clit. You breathed, 'No Daddy.’

'Turn around.’ He left your neck and let you turn around so your back was facing him. He pushed you down, you resting your cheek against the smooth, cold surface of the table, his hands rubbing its way down your back before resting on your butt cheeks. His large hands pulled and fondled with them, pulling them apart before patting it gently, 'You should feel lucky that I’m not smacking your delicious skin here, Y/N. We don’t want anybody to know what a bad girl you’ve been to me, now do we?’ He didn’t expect you to answer as you could only help but feel embarrassed at the way you were exposed to him.

You were absolutely vulnerable in this state, and Taehyung loved it. And he didn’t want anybody else to know what you both did behind closed doors; he had a deal to settle in less than thirty minutes for Christ’s sake.

He took both your hands by your wrists before pinning them on your back, his other hand reaching for his zipper. He pulled his member out, pumped it a little and without warning pushed inside you, a silent cry escaping your lips.

'Does that feel good, Y/N?’ You had your eyes shut tight and felt tears well up from the pain but he was generous enough to let it subside before you nodded, letting him move slowly.

'It does, Daddy. So good..’ You moaned, and right then your eyes widened. You weren’t supposed to make a sound. You heard Taehyung chuckle mischievously, 'Looks like my Kitten didn’t follow my orders. Now I can’t let you cum, baby girl.’ He retained the same pace as he pumped in and out of you before he brought you up by your shoulders so your chest was off the table and your back pressed against his clothed chest.

You whimpered as his fingers moved harshly against your clit, as he slowly but surely began increasing his pace while his other hand played with your breast.

'Remember, baby, you can’t come.’ He reminded you with a mocking voice, and you breathed, 'Yes, Daddy.’

'Tell me, Y/N,’ He began moving faster, and it took all your power to not scream as his tip brushed against the bundle of nerves inside you.

'Do you think it was okay for you to go out with Han- whoever that was?’ He was angry, you knew that. But he was usually passive aggressive, and it wasn’t like him to take it out on you through sex. But you still had to admit - with the lack of any physical activities for the past month, this was definitely hot.

'N-no, Daddy, it wasn’t. I’m- sorry.’ Your hand went behind you, as you held on to the back of his head while resting your head on his shoulder. He pecked at the nape of your neck multiple times.

'And- ugh -’ He grunted as he found himself reaching his orgasm, 'Do you still think I’m having an explicit affair, Y/N?’ He was sure you were going to come with the way you had clenched your walls around him, but you refrained, as you felt him release himself inside you.

He stopped immediately, pulling out of you and turning you around. You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, exhausted from the denial of an orgasm and from running too much, 'I’m sorry- I just..’ You let out a sigh before you leaned into him, his hands around your waist, knowing you were tired.

He grabbed a tissue from the corner of the table and cleaned you before he walked to the lump of your clothes. Zipping his pants, he picked them up and brought them to you, helping you put on your bra and underwear and brought his coat over you before sitting on the chair and making you sit on his lap.

'Look, Y/N,’ He whispered as he cradled your body, feeling slightly guilty for blaming you. He knew he was giving more importance to his work than paying attention to you for the past few weeks and understood your need to meet people.

'I know that I’m not with you the entire day but please don’t ever think that I am cheating on you, okay?’ His hand caressed your head and you felt tears pool in your eyes.

'I know.. I’m sorry for doubting you like that and for meeting up with Haneul. I should’ve considered your feelings more.’ You lowered your voice to prevent it from cracking.

He brought his fingers to your chin and tilted your face, 'Hey, baby, don’t cry. I know I was harsh. But I’m sorry too, I’ll finish off all my work so I can spend more time with you.’

'It’s okay, Tae..no pressure. Just come home early, alright?’

'Don’t worry, Y/N. Tonight - I’ll make it special.’ He said, bringing his lips to yours for the first time since you walked into his office.

[funkzpiel]

And The Tag Read Simply: ‘Pretty’ - Ch5

Words of comfort and affirmation bubbled to his tongue – He’s caught, we have him. Don’t worry. He’s at MACUSA, he’ll never hurt you again. But one look, and Newt realized that the context of Graves’ question was not ‘please say he’s not here.’ It was ‘please say he’s coming home soon.’

“He’s… away,” Newt said lamely, eyes flickering to glance at Graves now that the man felt confident enough to speak with him. Graves was leaning far enough forward now that his shoulders were visible, pale and naked. Newt felt his cheeks begin to burn at the implication, and even more so when he caught sight of the thick leather collar that hung snuggly around Graves’ throat – Grindelwald’s symbol hanging delicately next to a small gold tag that read simply: ‘Pretty’.

FANTASTIC BEASTS KINK MEME FILL Grindelwald is captured, they track down Graves, but instead of finding a locked up and tortured Graves they find Graves naked and in a collar, napping on a soft bed without a hint of recognition in his eyes. Turns out Grindelwald messed with Graves’ mind, removed all his memories and made him believe that he’s Grindelwald’s pet.

Includes: Gellert Grindelwald x Graves, Newt x Graves, Non-Con, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, Pet Play, Forced Pet Play, Collars, Non-Con Body Modification, Animal Ears, Animal Behaviors/Qualities, Mind!Fuck, Memory Loss/Alteration, Master/Pet, Dubious Consent, Angst, Literally Graves Believes He’s A Dog, I AM TRASH

CHAPTER 5

Newt watched Graves sleep from his work table, eyes distant as he took in the image of the frail man so still and peaceful – long lashes stark against pale cheeks. Newt had heard stories of the man Percival Graves had been, but Newt only knew two sides of the man first hand: the imposter and the victim. Not for the first time, he wondered what Graves had lost. What Grindelwald had stolen. Tina obviously held a great deal of respect for the man. Madam Picquery, too.

Newt imagined him, body healthy and pristine as Grindelwald portrayed him – broad and strong and imposing – with warm eyes and able hands. Just in his actions, clever is his work, and gentle with his people. But a part of him also knew the unfortunate truth. A man with friends is not a man easily replaced. A good boss, yes. A respected man, of course. But a friendly man… no. He must have been a distant man. A firm line set in the ground between home and work. A man dedicated to the letter of the law, to the very last detail of his job, to the welfare of his employees and their success, to the safety of the public – and nothing more. He had no family to miss him. No loved ones. His life was no doubt a lonely life, only made easier by the sheer weight of his work to distract him.

And this was how fate repaid his dedication.

He had to convince Graves that, no, your bed isn’t missing – you’re allowed to sleep on the actual bed, not some uncomfortable cushion on the floor. He had to ease his worries with soft words that, no, Grindelwald would not be mad at him, and yes, I’ll be to bed soon, and no, I promise I’m not leaving.

It was only then that Graves settled. The man, once so confident and powerful now sleeping in the baggy clothes of a scrawny man’s wardrobe, hair tousled and cheek still smudged with dirt because Newt hadn’t the energy to bathe him – too afraid the man would misread the situation and try to thank him again.

“Oh Tina,” Newt whispered, eyes falling to the report he had been writing. There was a dark blotch of ink at the end of an unfinished sentence; dark from hesitation. “I don’t know how much help I am in this…”

The letter read: I fear that Grindelwald has…

Newt bit his lip and clenched his quill a little harder, willing himself to finish what he started. But even now, he did not know the right way to phrase it.

I fear that Grindelwald has inflicted far more damage than we originally perceived, he finally wrote and proceeded to detail the events of the day, down to the moment of Graves’ possession.

And then he cast his gaze back unto the man in question, heart squeezing when he realized the man was snoring very lightly. In the dim light of the little shed, Grindelwald’s tags twinkled innocently against Graves’ pale flesh. Newt wished he could just remove them.

“Please come back,” Newt whispered.

It was then, as he was watching the man, that a small hand suddenly appeared on the other side of Graves’ body. Newt stiffened, worried for a moment that he was seeing things, when finally it clicked – the Niffler. Newt stood as quickly and quietly as he could, eyes narrowed as he watched a chubby little body suddenly follow that tiny hand, the beady eyes of the Niffler staring him down even as it slowly reached for the tags at Graves’ throat.

“No,” Newt said, and quickly cast a spell to call the little beast to him. Newt watched as the Niffler scrabbled its tiny little hands in Graves’ direction before it finally gave up and allowed the spell to continue to draw it through the air and into Newt’s awaiting grasp.

The Magizoologist scruffed him promptly and held him up so they were nose to nose.

“You can’t touch those,” Newt said, and the Niffler just crossed it’s flabby little arms and looked away. “No, please, please understand – you could really hurt him. He… He needs those tags. Please, just this once, don’t fight me.”

Newt wasn’t sure if it was the sheer pleading of his whispered voice or if the little creature was merely in a giving mood, but the Niffler slowly turned to look him in the eye before actually looking somewhat mollified. It sagged a little in his grasp before nodding.

Newt almost wanted to double check, but he was too blown away by the creature’s sudden change in nature to feel his normal sense of doubt in the little thing. So instead, he cautiously set it down, ready to cast the spell again, and watched. The moment the Niffler’s feet met the work table, it sat down in a heavy ball and merely watched Graves sleep. It cast its gaze from Newt to Graves and back again before suddenly scurrying down the work table’s leg and onto the floor. For a brief moment, Newt worried he had made a mistake, but the Niffler merely peered at Graves one last time before hurrying out of the shed as if on important business.

Newt blinked.

“That was odd,” he whispered, then returned his gaze back to his report – lost for words on how to tactfully tell Picquery that he had very good reason to believe Graves had been raped repeatedly. He sighed and rested his forehead on the paper, unheeding of the ink, and closed his eyes for just a moment.

Merlin, he was tired.

They repurposed the execution chamber to serve as one giant Pensieve. In its swirling depths, every memory that their Legilimens managed to lay bare played within it in striking detail – larger than life, louder than reality, and more overwhelming than Tina had been ready for. It was like this that she watched Grindelwald recall how he had cornered Graves after his walk home from a long stakeout turned case bust and Mercy Lewis, Tina could remember that night. She had been the last person from their department to say goodbye to him that night. Was her face the last he saw before... Before Grindelwald...

Just like that, the time with which Graves had been gone was dated. Months. Six months. Six months. Tina felt her breath seize in her chest. She could remember how tired he had looked when she found him in his office that night to let him know she was heading home. She had thought to ask if he was okay. She had thought to insist that he, too, should go home. But he had his paperwork to finish, and she knew him to be a man that wouldn’t go home until every last page was done. It didn’t matter how tired he was, if she pointed it out, he would just say that was what coffee was for.

So she didn’t point it out. Tired as she was, she let him be.

The last words her Graves had said to her played aloud in her head like a painful echo.

“Goldstein,” he had said, drawing her back to his office door.

“Yes, sir?” She asked, afraid he might ask he to fill out some form herself before she left.

Instead, his lips curled into the barest of smiles – something that was practically an all out grin in the books of those who knew him – and said, “Good work tonight, Tina. We’re lucky to have you.”

Her heart ached coldly in her chest, ever tightening as she watched the memory of Graves – tall and proud, and yet limping ever so slightly – walking just ahead of Grindelwald on the street; unaware of his stalker. She wanted to call out to him. To warn him. But all she could do was watch as the dark wizard purposefully apparated himself from behind Graves to the end of a dark alley on his left. The noise drew Graves in, his mouth set into a firm, displeased line at having caught someone displaying magic so openly. And when Grindelwald lit the end of his wand with a brilliant light, it was obvious that Graves had resigned himself to having to take the man back to the office despite his exhaustion.

“Someone will see you,” Graves said firmly from the end of the alley, squinting, trying to peer past the bright light of Grindelwald’s penetrating lumos but unable to see his face because of it.

“Let them,” Grindelwald purred.

Graves stiffened and drew his own wand. With a quick look left and right, he took several steps deeper into the dark of the alley to try and mask their altercation as best as he could. Late as it was, he had little to worry for. Maybe if someone had been there, Tina thought. Maybe if…

“If you don’t desist, I’ll be forced to relieve you of your wand and take you in for the night,” he said grimly, and Tina could suddenly see how Graves was trying his hardest to mask his limp, his exhaustion. Grindelwald smiled behind the glare of his spell.

“I’m afraid not, my dear director,” Grindelwald said. “In fact, tonight is the last night you will use your gifts to shackle your fellow witch or wizard.”

Graves stilled, his body suddenly stiff with dawning recognition. Tina thought he was going to call the man out as a Grindelwald follower, but instead Graves attacked without preamble. With a quick flick and a dodge to the right, Graves launched a harsh kinetic wall of energy at Grindelwald while simultaneously stepping out of the way of Grindelwald’s own spell. The concrete where Graves had been standing exploded, and in the building next to them, a light turned on. Graves looked at it and cursed before shoving off the wall he had stepped to and launching another attack.

Brick burst behind Grindelwald, but the man wasn’t fazed. Instead, he merely continued to advance on Graves, driving the director toward the street, making him panic – knowing how the Auror worried over prying eyes. Somewhere above, blinds rustled. Graves grit his teeth and finally held his ground, unwilling to let the dark wizard take their fight to the open.

“Your fear of our exposure will be your downfall, director,” Grindelwald said through a grin, and it was then that Graves could finally see his face, the concealing glare of Grindelwald’s lumos long since gone. Graves’ hand tightened on his wand.

“Grindelwald,” he said, voice gentled by shock.

“Director Graves,” Grindelwald greeted in return, his smile that of a cat’s.

Tina could see a hundred thoughts filtered through Graves’ eyes. Headlines from the papers, reports from the Ministry, operations from the support team MACUSA had offered. Graves frowned and set his feet, obviously no longer concerned with the world around them.

Grindelwald hummed his approval.

“Finally,” he said, his own wand raised and ready. “Yes. Show me what you can do without the shackles of our society holding you down. I want to see it for myself.”

Tina had seen Graves duel before. In practice and in the field. He was a clean, efficient spellcaster. He didn’t gloat, he didn’t underestimate, and he didn’t take chances. He cast his spells with the intention of ending any altercation immediately. The less time the enemy had the ability to cast a spell, the less likely one of his people got hurt. So his spells were fast, brutal things. Heavy hitters that slammed through tissue and concussed – and that was on a normal day.

But this… Tina had never seen Graves attack like this. Sharp, fast spells cast so pointedly, so intently, they practically cut the air like knives. She could hear the way they whistled through the air, and every strike that missed tore up pavement and brick alike. One shot in particular that Grindelwald only just managed to divert ended up turning the nearby fire escape into a hodgepodge of contorted, screaming metal. But Graves never waited to see if his work connected. One spell followed another followed another, and all the while, Graves advanced.

He was like a different man, his eyes alight with a dreadful determination that turned Tina’s veins to ice. This was the man who had fought in the war, the man they told stories about. She had thought she knew him. She had thought she knew his drive and his skill and his rigor. She was wrong.

Grindelwald was thrilled. In his manic eyes, she saw nothing but pleasure and excitement as he diverted one spell after another, guiding them away from his body with quick jabs but not having much more time than that to do anything else.

“You’re wasted at MACUSA, my dear,” Grindelwald howled over the cries of Graves’ spells.

“I’m precisely where I need to be,” Graves said, following one particularly harsh blow with a swipe of his free hand, using Grindelwald’s distraction of deflecting his spell to hit him with a dumpster and pin him to the wall.

Even caught as he was, Grindelwald laughed as though they were two friends having a merry old time rather than enemies aiming for the throat. Graves clenched his jaw, wand trained on Grindelwald as his other hand kept up the pressure on the dumpster – metal slowly warping to curl around Grindelwald’s frame.

“And where is that, pray tell?” Grindelwald asked, smiling so widely his gums showed.

“Here. Between you and the rest of society,” Graves said resolutely, but as their fight ebbed, so did his energy. Tina could see it in the softening of his shoulders and the tremble of his wand. So could Grindelwald.

“Long night, my dear?” Grindelwald asked.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Graves began, encouraging the metal to curl around Grindelwald that much quicker.

“I’m quite tired of silence, I’m afraid,” he said, something dark glimmering in his eyes.

Behind Graves, a shadow appeared. Then another and another. Men – Grindelwald’s followers.

“Crucio.”

The spell hit Graves in the back, pointblank between his shoulders, and felled him with a cry torn from the bottom of his chest. Tina watched as he shuddered on the ground, body seizing as Grindelwald easily detangled himself from Graves’ bindings.

“He’s as good with wandless enchantments as they say,” Grindelwald said, clearly excited as he swept the dirt from his coat and straightened himself out. Once put back together, his eyes fell on Graves and he grinned. “Let the good fellow go, won’t you?”

The spell dropped, but the men behind Graves advanced, forming a wall behind the man – blocking him from the road. Somewhere, Graves could hear the telltale beginning of sirens. He groaned and rolled from his side to his knees and tried to rise, ignoring the way his clothing dripped from the puddle he had landed in.

When he tried to get to his feet, one of the three wizards behind him raised a leg to kick him down, only to find a trash can lid suddenly flying through the air to greet him. It connected with his face with a wet crash that sent him tumbling backward, immediately unconscious and nose clearly broken. The wizard nearest Graves took two steps back. The other snarled and raised a wand, only to be disarmed.

Graves’ eyes shot up, shocked, when the wand flew to Grindelwald’s hand – the flunky’s magic stayed by the hand of a madman.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Grindelwald said, fiddling with the wand before tucking it away in his own coat. “I didn’t say to attack him, now did I, Peter?”

“But sir, he—!”

When Grindelwald raised his gaze from Graves, its humor was gone – replaced by something that made Tina shiver. “I have no use of the deaf or stupid.”

Peter shut up and took a step back. Grindelwald smiled, his farce mask returned.

“Good boy,” he said, then moved to address Graves. “As I was saying—“

Graves swept his hand just as he rose to his feet to sprint past the two goons, and instead of launching another trashcan lid at Grindelwald, he launched both of his flunkies at him instead. Tina watched, heart thundering, hoping – hoping – as Graves made a break for it. With a loud crash and an angry batch of yelling, the two men collided into Grindelwald, sending the dark wizard to the ground. And for a moment, Tina thought he was going to make it.

Graves stumbled into the road, obviously about to apparate, when a spell came arcing out of the alleyway and nailed him in the shoulder. It knocked him off balance, spinning him to once again face the alley he had come from, disorienting him. He clutched at his shoulder and panted, preparing himself to apparate – gathering energy – eyes all the while on the three men clambering to their feet.

“C’mon, Percival,” he whispered, blood oozing from his nose from exhaustion, and reached for the last dregs of his magic when a loud noise disrupted his attention. A horn.

That was when the car struck him, slamming him harshly into the hood before bouncing him into the road. Tina gasped and beside her, she heard one of the other staff members watching the memory vomit.

There was screaming. A woman in the passenger’s seat was crying, wailing. The man who was driving cut the car in reverse and drove away frantically, and suddenly, Tina hated them. She wanted to reverse the memory and look at them, find them, make them pay for not staying. If they had only stayed, then maybe…

They would have died, she realized, her anger flooding out of her in an exhaustive sheet. Grindelwald would have killed them. There was no saving Mr. Graves from this. There was no changing the past.

Instead, she watched as Graves slowly opened his eyes and moaned wetly. His wand had been knocked from his hand, but even now, Graves reached for it. Even now, Graves fought. Tina’s eyes burned, and slowly the image before her became blurry through her tears as her boss tried to pull himself across the short stretch of pavement between his crumpled body and his wand. When it was obvious that his legs – Merlin’s balls, his right leg wasn’t supposed to look that way – wouldn’t get him there, he extended a hand to call it to himself. The wand wiggled fiercely for a moment, then fell still. Graves’ eyes fluttered. More blood oozed from his nose.

He tried again to pull his body forward when his gaze caught sight of Grindelwald approaching. The Auror didn’t make it far. He merely wheezed as Grindelwald knelt down in the road and retrieved the wand, holding it up in the light to admire it. He turned it this way and that, as though familiarizing himself with some great weapon, all the while ignoring Graves on the ground.

“Truly a wand of some distinction,” Grindelwald said approvingly, weighing it in his hand before pocketing it as well. “Steadfast and powerful. And in such a pretty package, too. Quite like you.”

Graves tried to keep his gaze on Grindelwald, but his head lolled dangerously until finally, he could do not much else but glare at the man’s shoes. He watched as the dark wizard knelt before him, and moaned raggedly when a long finger grabbed him under the chin and lifted his gaze.

“Poor Mr. Graves, hit and left to die like some mangy old dog. Your underlings didn’t see the hit you took at that raid earlier, did they? Or is it that they just didn’t care to make sure you got home, hmm?” Grindelwald asked, eyes searching. “Nobody cares for you, not truly. If they did, they’d know that you need more care than what they give you. They think you so strong. They’d let you work yourself to death, my dear. They wouldn’t even notice if you were gone. Why do you fight for them?”

“Somebody has to protect them from men like you,” Graves said, his words garbled and faint, but there all the same.

Grindelwald’s hand moved from his chin to cup his jaw, and Graves shuddered when he realized the man was watching him with fascination and no small amount of pity. As though he were some poor creature caught in a net, ripe for saving - or slaughter.

“But my dear Mr. Graves,” he said, swiping a thumb along a quickly purpling bruise. “Who is going to protect you?”

Graves eyes fluttered as Grindelwald grabbed the Auror by the shoulder and disapparated the both of them away – just as sirens blared around the corner. Lights flashed, illuminating nothing but a barren road and the blood Graves left behind.

The memory softened, softened, then faded altogether and Tina shuddered. When she raised her gaze, the team of Legilimens they had brought in to fuel the execution chamber turned Pensieve were kneeling on each of their respective floating platforms above the black mass, exhausted, and at their center sat Grindelwald – bound to his chair, grinning from ear to ear.

She desperately wanted to say something, anything, to tear that smug look from his face. She couldn’t find the words.

“Your right hand man was quite something, Seraphina,” Grindelwald said, not even winded from the forced pulling of his memories from multiple witches and wizards. In the dim lights of the execution chamber, one eye glowed unnaturally – like a pearl in the dark. It made Tina’s stomach twist with dread. “I can see why you chose him to head up your security. He would have made it, if not for that car. Funny how fate works out. In another world, he’d be beside you. In this one, he’s mine.”

“Do not flatter yourself, Gellert,” she said, using his first name in kind with a wry brow that said, ‘fucking try me’. “Mr. Graves is beginning to heal quite excellently under the watchful eye of our expert. He’ll be beside me once more in no time.”

That only made Grindelwald’s grin widen.

“Lying now, are we?” He asked. “Oh, things must be so much worse than they appear. How wonderful.”

With a sharp movement that had Tina stumbling for her own wand, Picquery drew hers from her coat.

“Madam President?” Tina asked, eyes wide, heart thundering, but all Picquery did was conjure a chair with a precise flick of her wand. With the grace of a great cat, she lowered herself into it and said, “Again.”

A set of shocked and weary eyes fell upon her from the platforms, the team of Legilimens exhausted. But one by one, they stood – wands extended – and began the process once more. But Grindelwald did not care. He only had eyes for Picquery.

“Will we die, just a little?” He asked, repeating his words from the train station before the light of the Legilimens spells fell upon him, rolling his eyes into his head, making him seize in his bindings. Below, the next memory began to appear.

“Madam Picquery,” an Auror said, coming to stand beside her for a moment. “I can report to you, if you have something else—“

“He attacked one of our own, Smithfield,” she said, not even bothering to look at the man. “I will watch this. Every moment. Every second. I will know his pain, and when this is done, so will Grindelwald.”

“Madam President,” Smithfield said softly, obviously recognizing the dismissal, and backed away to his former spot.

“We’re ready, Madam President,” one of the Legilimens said, voice strained.

“Show me.”

Tina brushed away the cool, wet tracks on her cheek with a thumb and prepared for the next memory.

Newt hadn’t even realized he had been dozing at his work station until his leg began to fall sleep, alighting his calf and toes with pins and needles. He mumbled sleepily, confused when his leg was far heavier than it had any right to be, and looked down to see a dark mop of hair on his thigh. It was Graves. He was seated on the floor beside his chair, his cheek pressed to Newt’s thigh.

Newt blinked, then everything that had happened over the past two days came flooding back to him.

“Mr. Graves?” He mumbled and gently drew his fingers through the man’s hair to wake him. “What’re you doing on the floor?”

With a soft groan and a long yawn, Graves looked up to him and said, “You didn’t come to bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes crawling to the report Newt had been writing for President Picquery outlining Graves'… progress. He frowned ever so slightly, the expression only soothing out at the sound of Graves’ soft whine of recognition. With a wave of his wand, he transformed the report into a mouse and sent it off – eyes heavy as he watched it scurry up the ladder of his suitcase. “I’m coming.”

Newt rose from the chair, and when it became obvious that Graves would not settle on the bed without him, he made fast work of his nightly routine before finally laying down. But when Graves did nothing more but stand at the edge of his bed and whimper, obviously wanting something but conflicted, Newt reached out for him and grabbed his hand. Too exhausted to explain, Newt simply guided Graves down onto the bed, pulling only gently, giving Graves the option to pull away. He didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the long, lithe line of his body into Newt’s side. He was shorter than Newt, and that worked well with the size of Newt’s bed. He fit quite comfortably into the dip of Newt’s side, and they were down for no more than a handful of moments before Graves simply tucked his nose into Newt’s collarbone and fell asleep.

The warm weight of Graves’ body lured Newt into sleep easily. The icy, unnatural feel of his tags however – unable to warm, even pressed between them – woke him often through the night.

a/n - got a suggestion on what you want to see? Send me a note. I can’t guarantee I’ll include it, but I love suggestions.