#and 3) I could lace them tight for my still recovering ankle

[causeimanartist]

Listen, I love Hunter’s new fit, but his Golden Guard uniform is *chefs kiss*

A huge shout out to the Chicago Cosplay and Photography Meet-Up Group for these awesome photos of me in my Golden Guard costume at ACEN

And for those who are interested in cosplaying as the Golden Guard, I’ve included some links for the mask and Flapjack

MASK & FLAPJACK

The brown undershirt is a men’s long sleeve golf shirt, the yellow shirt is one I bought at Michaels and just cut a bad triangle into lol. The belt was mine (and something I would replace when I do this cosplay again).

The “staff” is actually just a shovel handle I bought at a Meijer (Midwest chain store). It was in the home/gardening area. It was perfect because I could swap out the two palisman

The triangle broach is just a piece of wood I cut to shape and then taped gold construction paper on

And the cape my mom made so LOL can’t help you with that one, she’s my mom and you can’t have her

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x Reader) p.3

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: ok last chapter! It’s just smut basically... or my attempt at it. @darkficsyouneveraskedfor did the best she could to clean it up for me. Poor girl.

Chapter 3:

You squeak in surprise as your weight is supported mostly by your ankles, head slipping dangerously close to the knife above you. He laughs as he watches you wiggle on the board, blood rushes to your head quickly.

“Perfect” he says as he removes the knife from near your scalp and cuts the lace bra from your body.

He lets out a low hum, dragging his long fingers over your tits. He pauses a moment to pinch each nipple, twisting harshly and pulling before letting them go. You hiss at the slight pain while he admires your hardening buds.

He draws tantalizing circles around each nipple with the knife as you try to keep still, afraid he might cut you. You can’t fight the goosebumps that rise due to the cold knife on your hot skin.

“Stop” you sob as tears run across your forehead and into your hairline.

“I thought all women enjoyed a little foreplay” he jokes.

“No, I don’t want this, please stop” you try to shake your head but your cheek grazes a knife still implanted in the wall next to you.

“Lies” he says tossing the knife to the ground.

He brings both hands up, tickling along your chest and gives a harsh slap to each breast. He cups them roughly, digging his fingertips in to the tender skin as he squeezes them.

You try not to scream at the overstimulation, you’ve never had someone give them this much attention before. He plays with them until they are so sensitive you pant and push your back into the wooden wheel to try to get away from him.

You bite your tongue to hold in any noise, knowing that is all he wants. He wants you to submit.

“Let’s see what else you have for me to play with” his large soft hands slide down, or up, your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

More tears fall as he slips his digits into your shorts and teases the sensitive skin of your pelvis. One finger slips down your slit, dipping in to find your clit. You flinch as he rubs slow circles over it.

You try not to react, but the adrenaline, the blood flowing to your head, and the shadow of his touch on your chest makes it hard to focus on anything but the way he touches your clit.

He slips one hand out from under your shorts but leaves the other to play with you as he unbutton them. Your head tilts to look at what he’s doing, he can’t possibly get the shorts off in this position.

To your horror, he grips the fabric on each side of the zipper and tears the shorts straight down the middle. You let out a startled scream at the display of pure strength, the fabric tearing along the seam and he pulls each piece away until you feel the cool air along your panties.

“Mm, already wet for me,” he hums in delight seeing your wet undies cling to your lips.

He crooks a single finger and pulls the underwear aside and leans in to lick a firm line along your slit. His tongue is warm and slippery and you tense as you try to fight your growing arousal. He licks long and slow and brings his hands to pull your lips apart, exposing your pussy to him fully.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he smirks before diving in.

He alternates between circling your bud and dipping his tongue into your hole. Each time he changes it makes you twitch and without thinking you arch your back. A moan finally breaks free as he sucks on your clit hard.

“That’s it. Sing for me,” he orders, voice deep with desire.

He feasts on you, getting more wild with each sound you make. It’s as if he wants to push you to your climax as quickly as possible. He pulls your clit into his mouth again and shakes his head side to side and you wail as you push your pelvis against his bewitching tongue.

You tense as you prepare to fall over that pleasurable cliff but you are left wanting when he pulls away suddenly. You sob as the ache of your orgasm fades away and your head snaps up to look at him.

“Wha-?” You mumble.

“You didn’t think I’d let you come before me,” he laughs at the pathetic desperation in your eyes.

You close your eyes, disgusted at yourself for falling for his tricks. Just a few light touches and he has you burning for him.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the gentle zip of his slacks. He slips his hands into his briefs and pulls out his throbbing cock. You watch as he pumps it a few times, precum dripping from the tip as he nears your face.

“Open wide, darling,” he lilts.

You bite your lips and close your eyes again, just to spite him. You aren’t sure you can take all of him, and your head is already pounding.

“Not wise to fight me with those knives so close to that pretty face,” he snickers as he taps his velvety tip against your mouth.

You open your mouth, let’s just get it over with, you think. He slips inside slowly and lets out a long breath. You can’t see his face from this angle but you feel himlooking at you.

He gently places his hand on your neck as he pushes in steadily, and plunges to the back of your throat. You gag as he fills your mouth and you hold back a heave. Your eyes roll back as he blocks your ragged breathes. The lack of oxygen and the pulsing of blood in your head is intense and uncomfortable.

He stays there, deep down your throat for a few seconds, his public hair tickling your chin, as you struggle against your bonds.

With a sigh he pulls back allowing you a choking breath. You cough as you try to recover.

“Would you like me to spin you back upright?” He asks softly and runs his fingers lightly over your lips and down your neck.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“So polite,” he praises. “But no.”

He cackles as he shoves his cock back into your mouth and fucks your face. You can do nothing but hang there as he pounds the back of your throat, slowing now and again to push further down making you gag around him. He speeds up at every cough or gag.

“You pretend not to like it, but look at this dripping cunt,” he says slapping your pussy and you scream around his dick.

The stimulation of your voice tips him over the edge and he pours his seed in the back of your throat. Gravity makes it difficult to swallow so you cough and spit up his cum as he pulls away.

You’re still coughing and dizzy when he twists the board back into place so you are upright. The pressure in your head takes a moment to subside. You make a show of spitting out as much of his seed as you can, aiming in his direction. He smiles at your attempts and proceeds to remove the remaining daggers from the wall, using the last one to slice away the stray bits of your clothes.

He tosses the knife away and kneels down in front of you and you tense in anticipation. With a smirk, he pops open the cuff on your left ankle, and moves over to release the right, letting your feet drop back to the center so that you can support some weight on your toes. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bite of the metal around your feet relents.

“You know, you make me almost miss performing,” he grins and flashes his sparkling white teeth. “I loved making the crowd hang on my every move. Oh, the way they used to gasp or cheer with just a flick of my wrist. Mmm, maybe I’ll keep you as my assistant.” He hums as he stands in front of you, taking you all in.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d make a very good hooker,” you insult.

His eyes flicker at your comment and his smile fades so fast it almost makes you regret your jab.

“Let’s see how long you can keep that fire” he growls deeply, grasping your hips.

His fingers dig into your bones before he drags them down the outside of your thighs. He hooks them under your ass and lifts up your lower half. He pins your legs around his hips as his hardening cock prods at your entrance. His green eyes bore into yours as he finally sinks into you.

He is larger than any other man you have encountered and he relishes in the pain painted clearly across your face. As he brings his pelvis flush to yours, he pauses and hums at the feeling.

“I knew you’d have a tight cunt. Hng. It’s delicious, darling.” He groans as he slides in and out.

“S-stop calling me that,” you grunt.

You shriek when he responds with a jarring smack to your ass. You clench around his cock by accident. He laughs and pounds into you harder between spanks. You can feel him beating against your cervix and you twist your hips as you try to relieve the pressure.

“Please, oh god, it hurts,” you sob as you shake your head.

“You love it,” he hisses.

“No, no. Please!” You scream and pull against the cuffs, trying desperately to put some space between his cock and your cervix and wiggle his hands from your ass.

He digs his nails into your ass cheeks and picks you up and drops you on his dick until you scream in agony and pleasure. The pleasure catches you by surprise but you feel that coil twisting in your stomach no matter how hard you fight it and no matter how much it hurts.

He sees your eyes go wide and you bite your lip when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you and he focuses his attention there.

You gasp when he drops one of your legs, opting to use his fingers on your overstimulated clit. He rubs hard circles until you are crying and pleading him to let it end. A shiver rolls down your spine as you race to your peak, your body tensing and your breathing erratic. Just a little more, anything to push you over that last hurdle.

“Should I let you come this time, darling?” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes. Fuck. Please, please,” you beg frantically, terrified he will deny you again.

You no longer recognize yourself, reduced to a needy pathetic mess. Nothing else matters except for that ache, the desperation to come overloading every other sensation or thought.

His deep chuckle in your ear makes you cringe and your pussy clenches as he speeds up his thrusts.

“Very well, come for me now, darling,” he commands and pinches your clit between two fingers.

You curse and scream as the squeeze tips you over the ledge, your cunt constricting around his length as your body arches into him. He pumps into you as you continue falling, toes curling and shoulders scraping the chipped wood board at your back. You delight in the euphoria and relief that washes over you all at once.

You come down from the longest orgasm of your life, your pussy easing slightly as your vision returns slowly, though your ears still buzz. Through your lashes you see his face, smug and cruel, as his hips stutter announcing his own release.

“Yes. I think I’ll keep you for a while longer.” He breathes into your neck as you feel him pull out of you.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[strawberriestyles]

Part 3: The Chills

(BANNER BY THE GODDESS HERSELF @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​​)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which you try to resolve the case of a fraternity’s haunting in a single night.

Read previous parts here.

Word count: 2.3k

Author’s note: TWO POSTS IN ONE WEEK. :O Two parts left. Hope y’all are enjoying this! This part is a treat for y’all. ;)

When Harry closes the door, the only light that remains in his bedroom is the red glow of an alarm clock. No moonlight, no substantial starlight.

“Let me get this,” he says, reaching toward a lamp. The lightbulb flickers to life, casting a ghostly glow across his features as he turns to look at you.

There are two beds, two desks. It’s just like a dorm on campus. You glance around at the posters of cars and bands plastered to the walls and the books stacked up beside one of the desks—all biology course books. There are a few odd pieces of dirty clothing scattered across the floor but for the most part you’re surprised at how clean the room is.

“Which closet’s yours?” you ask, pretending not to notice the way Harry’s ogling you. He’s trying to be subtle, scratching the back of his neck so he has an excuse to tip his head forward and lower his eyes to your bare legs. You feel like you could use another drink.

He nods toward the accordion door on your left and stays silent for a beat before his eyes finally meet your face once more. He clears his throat when he sees how closely you’re watching him. “Take anythin’ yeh want."

“Anything?”

He grins at you. “Would appreciate it if yeh left my jersey alone, but yes, anythin’ else.”

“And if I wanted to wear the jersey?”

His eyes narrow. “I would need collateral.”

“Ah.” You have a sneaking suspicion that his request for collateral would be the same as his request for an entrance fee. With a dramatic sigh, you reach under the hem of your skirt, just far enough that you see Harry’s smile slip. His jaw strains and his throat bobs. You grin. “Just kidding."

You retract your hands and spin toward the closet, opening up the door. There is a shelf packed with thick crewnecks and hoodies, some with the college’s logo emblazoned upon the chest and others sporting the names of businesses or gyms. You pick out a black, print-free hoodie with colorful paint dried across the front like an abstract art piece. When you turn around, Harry has his arms crossed and he’s standing in front of the door.

“That was quite rude of you,” he says.

“What was?”

“Yeh’re bein’ a tease.”

You tip your head to the side and shrug. “Which bed is yours?”

Harry nods again toward the mattress topped with a navy blue comforter and you cross the room to drop your chosen sweatshirt onto it. He’s staring at the ceiling the next time you look at him, as if willing himself to keep his wandering eyes in check.

“Is your roommate here tonight?”

“I dunno. Haven’ looked for him.”

You take a few steps toward Harry, chewing on your cheek. He looks down at you as you move closer.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Two years. ‘M a senior.”

“Oh yeah? Are you planning on grad school?”

He smiles and tips his head to look out the window into the black night. There’s something about that smile, the soft lilt of it and the dimple that peeks out from one cheek that draws you even closer. His body is relaxed and loose, crossed arms sliding down his abdomen, and you want to see him tense up again. You want to watch him rise back up to full height with his shoulders pulled taut. And you still want to run your hands through his hair.

“Uh huh.” Harry is beginning to say something else when your fingers close around the collar of his flannel and your lips silence his. He doesn’t even take a moment to recover. He fists your costume at the small of your back, pulling you forward until your torso stretches along his. Your skirt is hiked up your hips and you can feel cold air along the lines of your underwear. You shiver, but you don’t protest the chill.

There’s a huff of breath down your chin as Harry breaks the kiss to reposition his mouth, head tilted and nose grazing your cheekbone. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you tighter against his body as he leans back against the door behind him. You can feel his ribcage expanding with each intake of breath. One hand shifts down the side of your body, over your hip. He hunches forward, arching your spine until his fingers drag at the skin of your thigh and catch on a fraying string at the hem of your costume.

Harry groans, deep and feral in the back of his throat, at the rough graze of your teeth along his lower lip. His hand drags your skirt up even higher until you can feel air along the end of your spine, and then his fingers curl around the lace at the side of your panties. He twists them tight around his middle finger. You gasp when he gives a sharp yank and your hips are jerked forward. Your underwear shifts against your clit. The pressure is heady and your teeth nearly sink into Harry’s tongue when he yanks upward. Instead, you careen against the friction and sigh, a hushed but high-pitched breath, as your hands rake down Harry’s chest to the end of his ribcage.

He lifts his mouth from yours. There’s an echoing huff in your ear and the resounding click of the door’s lock turning before he’s leading you blindly backward. Your legs meet a desk. The icy handle of a drawer almost makes you shriek as it grazes your thigh, but Harry lifts you up and onto the surface of the desk before a sound can leave your mouth. Your hand sprawls out to catch yourself and your fingers find a cold pane of the window beside you. Your shoulder blades press into a poster.

“What happened to tellin’ me to fuck off?”

“Guess I changed my mind,” you breathe, sliding your hips forward until you can hook your legs around Harry.

“Well, thank God for that.”

There’s a mindless clamoring of fingers as you attempt to reach beneath Harry’s shirt and he peels back the costume strap from your tweaked shoulder, running his open mouth along the skin that he pressed closed lips to so gently not even an hour ago. Your fingertips inch along the hard planes of his lower stomach, his muscles contracting at your touch until you meet the soft flesh at his hips. His tongue is licking at the artery in the side of your neck, tasting your pulse.

Harry shifts forward until he’s pressed up against your underwear and your skirt is slipping up around your ass. There’s a hiccup in your thought process when he jerks forward to chase the pressure between you. Your head lolls to the side. You work your hands free of his shirt to finally bury them in his hair, and it’s just as soft and thick between your fingers as you imagined. He lets out a guttural moan when your fingers scrape against his scalp.

There’s a loud bang as someone crashes into the bedroom door. Your body tenses, hands dragging down to the nape of Harry’s neck. He pauses. There’s mumbling outside, but the music and your pulse are too loud to hear over. 

“Relax.” Harry’s thumbs stroke the outsides of your thighs, just below the thick of your hips. Goosebumps are drawn up from your flesh. His teeth nibble at the corner of your jaw, just below your ear, and your fingers clamp instinctively onto the damp curls at the back of his head again as his words hum against your skin. “Yeh’re safe”

His pelvis works against you again, stiff denim catching on the soft cotton of your panties. You gulp down a desperate lungful of air and your eyes flutter shut. Your ankles twist around his legs just above the backs of his knees. He takes this as an invitation to buck harder against you. The threads of his jean pockets burn against your bare thighs but your body still shifts needily toward him. Any thought of shedding clothes has long since been abandoned. You’re unwilling to take the time and it seems as though Harry is just as unwilling.

As your muscles begin to uncoil, you shift forward on the desk, grinding up to meet Harry’s staggered thrusts. You turn your head to the side to catch his lips, taste the beer on his breath as he dips his tongue into your mouth. Your legs tighten around his body. One arm curves around your waist and his fingers drag up your costume again before fitting below the lace band at the back of your panties and curling into the flesh of your ass.

“Oh,” he moans against your chin. His lips drag to the base of your throat, the crown of his head nudging your chin back until the length of your neck opens up to him. “Feel good?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Feels so good.” You tremble at the way he chuckles against your collarbone.

“Oh, baby, 'm not even tryin’.”

A rush of air leaves your lungs as his hips clap against you hard enough to send you jolting backward. You cling to his shoulders, gasping as he slams against you again. The desk rocks back into the wall and your lower stomach begins to tighten up. The hand that Harry doesn’t have tangled up in your underwear closes around your thigh.

“Close,” you mumble against the hair that tickles your chin. His teeth scrape against your throat. “So close.”

Harry leans you backward until your head meets the wall and he’s curved over the desk. He grinds against your core, rough but unsteady, like his feet are losing purchase on the carpeted floor. It’s enough to send you toppling over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, slipping sideways and grappling at the back of Harry’s flannel. Your cheek presses into the condensation on the icy window. Your eyes peel open and the lamp fizzles out. You’re left in the dark once more.

“What the fuck?” Harry grunts against your chest. He lifts his head and all you can see are his eyes in the bit of light the dull stars grant you. "Again?”

You huff into empty air as he unwinds himself from you, retracting his hand from your damp underwear and stepping away from the desk. Your legs spill over the edge, dangling against the drawers as you come down from your high. That’s when cold begins to seep deep beneath your skin, into your bones. Your head spins and a shiver rolls up your spine.

“Harry,” you whisper into the darkness, into the silence. You can’t bring yourself to sit up.

“Yeah.” His voice sounds distant, like you’re hearing it through a barrier.

“I don’t feel good.”

“What? Wha’s wrong?”

“My head. I—” The desk shakes beneath you and you gasp.

“Sorry. ’S me. I kicked the desk.”

“I feel dizzy.”

“Okay. D’yeh wanna sit up?”

The leather of his gloves slides up your thighs. He’s pulling you up from the desk before you can answer. When you’re sitting your head spins again. You lean forward into Harry’s chest, closing your hands into fists atop your knees, and he wraps his arms around you, smoothing the back of your dress down your waist.

“Yeh feel clammy,” he whispers. You shiver in response. “Christ, what happened?”

“I don’t know.” You swallow against the swimming in your head and breathe in the scent of him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t—”

“It’s fine, love. Don’ need to. Watchin’ you come was enough.”

There’s a banging on the door again and this time you can hear someone shouting at the two of you to get out. Harry laughs into your hair. He rubs at your spine.

“D’yeh wanna put that sweatshirt on?”

You nod against his chest and he backs away from you. You hear him pacing across the floor to his bed and back, and then the hoodie you chose is slipping over your head. Harry helps to fit your arms through the holes.

“Does that help at all?” he asks.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He nudges your nose and presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then to your cheek. His forehead rests against your temple and it all feels so natural that it’s a shock to remember you only met him a couple of hours ago. “Think yeh wanna stand up?”

“Sure.”

Harry helps you to your feet and you shimmy the skirt of your costume down over your hips. You blink into the darkness. His fingers find your jaw and his thumb strokes your skin. Your underwear are uncomfortably wet, but you’re not willing to take them off, so you suffer silently.

“If yeh’re not feelin’ well we don’ have to check out the basement,” he whispers. "Could walk yeh home.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“Y/N, don’—”

“Harry, seriously.” You don’t think you’ll find anything, but the weird occurrences are enough to pique your interest. Imagine the report you could write if something came of tonight. Besides, you’re feeling better already, whether it’s the soft brush of Harry’s skin or the warmth of his sweatshirt. And you’re not ready to say goodnight.

“Okay.” You can’t see him, but you can almost hear the smile on his lips. He backs toward the door, pulling you with him. Quietly, he unlocks the door and leads you out into the equally dark hallway. You’re grateful that whoever was banging on the door seems to have disappeared.

“To the basement?” he asks, waiting for one last confirmation.

“To the basement,” you agree. And he pulls you in the direction of the staircase.

Part 4: The Gap

[satans-helper]

Wet

Thanks for the GIF @gretavanbobatea; I wasn’t picturing Highway Tune Josh when I wrote this but that nice sheen on his skin really, uh, fits well with this smut piece.

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: cursing; dirty talk; oral sex; unprotected sex; squirting. 18+ read at your own discretion. Additionally, there is also one “p*word” in here. I’m not a huge fan of it myself but hey, we’re all here to try new things, & it felt right.

Thank you so much to the wonderful anon who requested this. I was so excited for it & had such a fun time writing it. I hope you enjoy <3 

---

The dinner plans you and Josh had agreed upon a week prior to actually seeing one another had been totally shot. After three months of being apart and the mutual agreement of complete abstinence in that time, you were literally aching throughout your entire body, desperate and needy for him, and he was showing you that he was pretty much the same. As soon as he’d stepped inside your home, his hard-on under his pants was unmissable. 

Your mouth was actually starting to water as you moved your eyes over the bulge. It had felt like forever since you two had done anything--you even missed just his gentle, casual touches. And his kisses. You really missed his kisses.

“It’s all the same,” you told Josh as you met him in your room, him standing in the center and looking around, observing.

“Nothing’s changed in three months?” Josh asked, turning to you and smiling playfully.

“Not a thing,” you told him, eyeing him up and down. He objectively looked about the same, but the long gap between seeing each other made your mind search for anything new. Well, there was the obvious--his curls had gotten longer, his skin was a little more tan--but then he stretched his arm behind his head and you saw a slightly more dense and full layer of muscle under his skin.

Josh caught you staring and smirked. “What is it, Y/N?”

You moved into him and took his arm in your hands, running your fingers around his bicep as you held it. “Where’d this come from?”

He laughed and snagged his arm back from you. “I always had that!”

“No, they’ve gotten bigger,” you insisted, reaching for him again, running your thumb along the dip in between his bicep and tricep. “A lot of push-ups on the bus? Arm wrestling Danny?”

He grinned and dove in for your mouth, kissing you hard with no hesitation as he slid his tongue inside, and you eagerly took him in. You raised your hands to the sides of his face and threaded your fingers through his curls as you devoured each other, the first heavy kiss after so long. 

You shoved him back onto the bed and urged him forward so he could lie back against your pillows, blankets already disturbed around your two moving bodies, and straddled him. His hard-on was pressing against your groin through both of your pants and you ground on top of him, moving your hips back and forth and running your covered heat over him. 

“Goddamn, I missed you,” Josh said in between sloppy kisses, also tangling his fingers in your hair, tugging a little to maneuver your mouth with his.

“I missed you too,” you told him and slid your hands under his shirt, gently pinching his nipples. “Do you know how hard it was to not touch myself while thinking about you for three whole months?”

He groaned and dragged his teeth along your bottom lip. “I understand completely. Sometimes I had to stop myself from thinking about fucking you--” His confession was interrupted by another moan as you kissed down his neck. “It was too much--I wanted you so bad, Y/N.”

You pulled his shirt over his head and shimmied down to straddle his thighs, bending over him and kissing down his neck to his chest, leaving little love bites that made his moans louder with his fingers still laced in your hair. You kissed down further to his abdomen, suckling and staining him with even more bites, then undid his fly and yanked his pants down.

There was still no hesitation as you pulled his underwear down next and his hard cock sprung out. It had been so long it almost felt like an entirely new experience, but when you took him in your hand, the weight and thickness was familiar and you licked up from base to tip, pausing at the head to dribble saliva down his length and stroke him in your hand.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Josh huffed, his forearm laid over his eyes, chest already heaving a bit. “Please.”

All slick and full, you sucked on the head gently, letting your mouth adjust to him. You slowly inched your way down, flattening your tongue against his shaft and suctioning your lips around him, letting yourself swallow and take him entirely in your throat as you neared the base.

Josh gasped and moaned, lifting his arm away from his face to look down at you, his eyes wide as he bit his lip and whimpered. 

You slowly moved back up, sucking as you went, gripping your hand around his shaft as you got back to the head and sucked more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his slit that was already dripping with precum. God, he tasted good, and he was so fucking eager, unable to contain those little whimpers as he gazed at you.

His eagerness spurred you on more and you swallowed back down to the base, steadying your own breathing as Josh’s became more ragged. You dragged your tongue back up but kept your lips wrapped around him halfway, the head of his cock pressing against the center of your tongue while your hand worked around him, a steady rhythm built, and soon he was bucking his hips and squirming all at once.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck,” he sputtered from above, his hands holding your head. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t--Jesus Christ--”

Stopping then wasn’t something you even felt capable of doing apart from not wanting to. You continued, his cock so wet and harder than you’d ever felt before, more precum leaking onto your tongue. Josh bucked his hips again and sat up abruptly, holding your head there, moaning and cursing, and came in your mouth.

You made a quiet noise of surprise around him with how much was filling your mouth but kept yourself there, swallowing steadily with his cock locked in your mouth until there was one final buck of his hips and one last gasping breath, and the last few drops landed in the back of your throat.

You leaned back on his legs, panting a little yourself, and ran your hand through your hair before pushing him back down and kissing him. 

“That was so good, oh my god,” he said breathlessly. “I needed that--fuck--I needed that.”

“You taste so good, Josh,” you told him, caressing his cheek. “I missed that.”

He rolled over the side of the bed, pants twisted around his ankles before he tore them off and then pulled you down the bed by your ankles. Quickly he yanked down your pants and tossed them aside, spread your legs to either side of the mattress as he situated himself on the floor, and pressed his face against your heat, already tonguing you through your underwear.

“Mm, so wet for me,” he said quietly, pulling your underwear to the side and dragging his fingertips through that same wetness that was pooling out of you. “I really missed that, how you get so wet for me.” He slid one finger inside, making you whimper. “How tight you are--god, so fucking tight.”

Just like Josh had been, you started to squirm on the bed, the ache inside you growing nearly to the point of physical pain. “Josh, please, I can’t take it,” you whined, reaching down and rubbing your clit.

He tore your underwear down your legs, forcing you to move your hand away, then gripped the inside of your thighs and pressed his tongue flat against your wet center, dragging it up slowly and then started to suck on your clit. You moaned and hooked your fingers through his curls again, urging him to suck harder. He obeyed your nonverbal demand, only breaking away to sloppily move his mouth down and slide his tongue inside you--he dragged his tongue back up and resumed sucking, slipping his middle and forefinger inside you.

You were already nearing your peak as he curled his fingers up and pressed against your g-spot. “Josh, don’t fucking stop,” you commanded, gasping and whimpering. He grunted quietly in response, lips still suctioned around your clit, and dove his fingers in deeper, wetness leaking out of you, all around his fingers and onto the bed.

“You’re getting so tight, fuck,” he uttered, removing his mouth and starting to rub your clit with his free fingers. “So tight, I can feel you squeezing--are you gonna cum for me, baby? I want you to so bad.”

He nudged your g-spot again as he rubbed your clit, his mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh and biting. Concrete thoughts and images ceased to exist in your mind then--your body was heaving and your breathing was as intense as it had ever been, like you couldn’t get enough air in your lungs yet you felt so weightless. You couldn’t even manage to say anything coherent, it was all just gasping breaths and high-pitched moans, then Josh curled against your g-spot again and you clenched around him.

He noticed what was happening before you did, uttering a single “fuck” as you came, a burst of warm, slippery fluid erupting from you and around his fingers, soaking the inside of your thighs and his fingers. You sat up a little, shuddering and whimpering more, trying to comprehend what had just happened, the knowledge only coming to you when you saw a slight mess of fluid on Josh’s face and chest.

“Oh my god, Josh,” you cried out, trying to regain your senses but your body was still reeling from your orgasm. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked at you, mouth slightly agape, and then ran his tongue over his top lip. “That was so fucking hot, Y/N.”

You fell back, laughing, the mess between your legs still warm and a little sticky. Josh climbed on top of you and kissed you after wiping his chin with the back of his hand, his hands sliding to the edge of your shirt and pulling it over and off of you.

You held him against you tightly, not quite recovered. “I love you, Josh.”

He nestled his face against your neck. “I love you too. That was so amazing, so fucking hot,” he said and propped himself up to align himself with you. “Ready to go again?”

You looked down and sure enough, he was hard again. You looked back up into his eyes and spread your legs, arching up into him. He went back to nestling your neck, moaning quietly as he slid into you, steadily and with a little more ease since your amass of fluid.

“Oh my god,” he moaned next to your ear, biting down into your skin. “You feel so fucking good. God, I love the way your pussy feels.”

You whined and wrapped your legs around him, digging your nails into his back, again not so capable of speaking as he started thrusting deep and hard, jostling you back and forth against the bed. 

Josh bit and sucked on your neck for a moment before he propped himself up again on his hands, looking down at you, face flushed and curls wild. “Can you cum for me again?” he asked, actually sounding a little desperate. “I want you to cum so hard around my cock.”

You nodded and reached up to slide two fingers in his mouth--he sucked on them, tonguing spit onto your fingertips, and you removed them and reached down to rub your clit, hypersensitive and still tingling. You kept your eyes locked on his, both of you gazing at one another so intently, expressing all the love and desire you’d missed for so long, how elated both of you were to be back wrapped up in one another, sweaty and sticky, respective hearts beating in overdrive.

He smiled at you then leaned down and kissed you softly. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the onset of another orgasm, and with another deep, full thrust, him buried to the hilt inside you, you came again. He moaned too, breaking away from your mouth and returning to your neck to kiss you more, your legs quivering around him, the clenching and unclenching around him relentless, your gasps and moans the same.

“Josh--fuck--” you whined, arching your back and grabbing onto his biceps, still shuddering and panting.

“That feels so good--you’re so wet, so warm,” Josh replied breathlessly and slowed his thrusts though he increased his force, slamming into you. “I’m gonna cum--” 

And he did after another push, wrapping his arms around you and letting himself sink down on top of you so you were both one breathless, hypnotized mess. He rolled over to the side but quickly sidled up against you, laying his arm over your waist as you rolled onto your side to face him.

“That was insane,” you after a minute of you two just holding each other silently apart from all the panting breaths. You laughed a little, pressing your forehead against his. “I think three months paid off.”

Josh groaned but laughed too. “I don’t know if I could do it again, Y/N,” he said and hooked your leg over his hip. “But--wow--that was incredible. I’ve never made you squirt before.”

“No one has,” you told him, the remnants of that event still between your legs. “Maybe we could try again tomorrow.”

Josh chuckled and slipped one hand between the two of you. “Or right now.”

You grabbed his wrist, laughing. “No, oh my god, please,” you begged. “I can’t take anymore right now.”

He kissed your forehead. “I just really, really missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you assured him, closing your eyes and warming up into him even more. “I’m so glad you’re home.” 

---

Tagging: @mountainofthesunn @bigthighsandstupidguys @camomillacatalina @kiszkawagnergvf

[serahsanguine]

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 7 of?

part one, part Two,  part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6  AO3

tagging @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon @foxystarbucks

***************************************

Chapter 7; Confliction. 

Mulder drove to his apartment, in a careful fashion, he kept peeking in the rearview mirror to check that she was ok. He parked outside his apartment complex and in his normal spot. He turned the engine and sat there for a few minutes listening to Scully breath. He got out of the driver’s side closing the car door as slightly as he could before walking around to the back seat of the car. He took off his jacket placing it on top of her making sure she did not get cold before picking her up and cradling her in his arms. At first, she struggled and then her cheek nuzzled against his t-shirt, her warmth radiating the thin material. He kicked the door with his foot, and locking the car with his free hand before walking up to his apartment.

He somehow managed to unlock his front door, even closing it behind him with Scully still in his arms. He walked through to his bedroom, feeling lucky he had put fresh sheets on the day before, and placed her on his bed her hair sprawled against the pillow fanning out in all directions. The room was still in darkness, the only source of light came from the moon.  He could tell by her silhouette that her dress was hitched somewhere above her waist exposing her legs and lace panties.

He watched for a few minutes as her chest rose and fell with each breath. He contemplated leaving her in the dress but decided against it and slowly slipped it off her shoulders and down her legs and hung it up against his wardrobe. He opened his chest of drawers finding an old Oxford t-shirt and slightly lifting her body up off the bed so he could place the t-shirt on her head threading her arms through and placing her back down on the bed tucking her beneath the sheets. He carefully walked out of his bedroom closing the door slightly, before making his way to the sofa.

He sat there in darkness finally being able to breathe and reflecting on what had happened over the past 12 hours. What he had done to Scully, what she had done to him, the words exchanged, the actions taken. If he really thought about it he was jealous and his actions were unjustified. But what exactly was he jealous about? Was it Scully going on a date? Was it the fact that she might sleep with someone else? Like that Daniel guy trying to get in between her legs. That made him so fucking angry. But it shouldn’t, they weren't in a relationship, he had no right to take her apart from other sexual encounters. That’s when it hit him, a sudden revelation: Sam was right and he had fallen in love with Scully. That simply could not happen, he would not allow it to happen. Even though it already has, a small voice told him. Fine, he could not allow it to progress any further. That was it, he had made the decision, and he knew what he had to do now. He soon fell into slumber with a plan formed and the last time he made Scully smile on his mind, because it would be the last time he ever sore it.

//

Scully woke in a dark room, light fluttering through the window. It took her a few minutes to fully open her eyes, she brought her hand to her head. She realised she had drunk way too much as it felt like a jackhammer to her brain. She stretched in an effort to get her lethargic limbs moving again trying to get the blood flowing. The silk sheets sliding against her skin. She couldn’t remember how she got to bed or even how she had got changed and into a t-shirt she didn’t recognise. She started panicking not remembering anything. The last thing she remembered was the party and something about calling Mulder.

Shit! She did actually ring Mulder. Shit, shit, shit. Where was she? She stood up walking slowly towards the flicking light illuminating under the door. If she is in a drunken state and had gone home with a stranger she certainly didn’t want to face them when they woke up. She slowly opened the bedroom door creeping through the living room trying not to wake the person sleeping on the sofa. Her mind screamed to grab her shoes and just flag a taxi down, not caring about her state of disarray. But the other part of her wanted to know who she had gone with, the person who had changed her but not touched her inappropriately and that part of her mind won as it took overall reasoning. She peered to look at the dark and mysterious sleeping form.

Wait, she recognised who it was: Mulder, the very same Mulder who she may or may not have called. But that didn’t explain why he took her to his apartment or why she was wearing his old T-shirt. This was going to complicate everything, that's if it hadn’t already. She should just leave, walk away, but she couldn’t. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Her feelings for him ran farther in, deeper than she had ever expected. Even after everything he had said and done. He was her drug of choice, her escape from reality.

She watched the flicker from the tv, cast shadows dance across his face. He looked beautiful and tranquil. This was a look she had never seen on him before but could happily get used to it.  She walked around kissing his cheek before tiptoeing back into the bedroom to sleep for a couple more hours.

She woke up a few hours later, the sun shining through the drawn blinds, the smell of coffee invading her senses. Still, in Mulder’s Oxford top she walked through the bedroom and into the kitchen.    

“Hi,” She said outwardly.

Mulder was sitting at a small breakfast table, a magazine in hand. She strained to see the cover: it was called The Lone Gunman. He looked up at her, then went back to reading. Without looking at her he spoke.

“There is a fresh pot of coffee just brewed if you would like some.”

“Thank you.”

“When you’re ready, you can borrow some of my sweats and I will take you back to the dorm.”

He still wasn't looking at her and he spoke with a coldness to his voice. She picked up a cup and placing it on the side, the room was awkward and tense. She didn’t want to ask where the sugar was, she certainly could not see it on the kitchen side. She proceeded to make the coffee when she suddenly felt his frame push up against her back leaning over her to reach in the cupboard above her to pull the pot of sugar down.

She could feel his skin, muscles, against her. The smell of his aftershave roaming in the air. Her skin ignited with his touch and how close he was to her. A pool of juices ran to her core. She bit her lip hard drawing blood, tasting it.

“But before that, I want to have some fun, a last hurrah of sorts”

She didn’t know what he meant but there was a sharp intake of breath, as she felt his erection in her lower back. Her hands gripped the side, her knuckles turning white. His lips touched the crook of her neck.

//

He could not resist her; seeing her in his Oxford shirt did things to him that he never imagined, he was meant to be cold and hostile towards her. But as soon as he saw a flash of her upper thigh, he was done. He walked over to her, his mind in a haze, with one thing on his brain. But it wasn’t his brain doing the thinking, was it?

He leant over, feeling her toned back against his stomach, sensing her body change in front of him. How could he possibly not get hard being so close to her?  He kissed her neck, teasing her, clawing at her skin with his teeth. Sucking hard, leaving angry-looking love bites in his wake. He ran one finger down her spine watching her shiver at his touch. He stopped at the hem of his t-shirt pulling it over her head her back still facing him. He moved his hand to her breast, so heavy and plump in his hands.  

He watched her try and take slow breaths trying to focus and relax. He started teasing her, by stroking her stomach, then moving on to her rib cage, and then around and in between her breasts. Using a very light touch to circle her breasts and large strokes around her areola. Then he eased into a gentle breast massage even giving them a little squeeze. Her head fell against his shoulder and she let out an audible groan.

Now that she was hot and bothered, he moved his fingers over her nipples. He started to rub her nipples slowly, increasing speed and pressure so she became more aroused.  Every now and then he would pinch them sending a rush of sensation throughout her body. The harder the pinch, the better but he didn’t limit to just pinching. He even slightly twisted and pulled giving her the utmost pleasure. He brought her to the point of orgasm, then pulling back, then repeating the process all over again.

As one hand kept on her upper extremities the other hand snaked its way to her lower half, finding her dripping wet with desire for him. He held her legs open placing her panties to the side and slid his fingers along her folds. He stopped only to get his straining erection out of his confines. It was slightly awkward in the position that they were in, but her being smaller went in their favour. He placed his throbbing cock at her entrance easily gliding into her tight tunnel. She was so wet and hungry for him. He thrust his hips, he was losing control. He pinched her nipples one last time before he felt her body shatter around him. She screamed his name, her body convulsing swallowing him. The sweat dripping from his belly onto her slicked back. He felt like he was being moulded to her soul. His very essence becoming hers. He erupted inside her, biting down hard on her clavicle.  

When he recovered enough to realise where he was, he slowly pulled out of her. Pulling his joggers and boxers from around his ankles he walked toward the bathroom slamming the door behind him. Only then he really realised the impact of his actions.

//

He had just left her standing in the kitchen, the sticky substance running down her leg. He had given her the best orgasm she had ever experienced without having to touch her clit. She was speechless. She moved and soon found the discarded Oxford shirt. She heard him open the bathroom door and walk back, offering her some clean underwear and trousers. She walked through to his bedroom, being here in the day felt a little strange compared to when she had just slept there a couple of hours ago.  She quickly found what she was looking for and found a wet cloth to clean herself up before putting the clothes on.

She worked her way back into the kitchen, the air smelling of sex and coffee. She smiled. Before repouring herself a cup of it sitting down on a chair waiting for him to finish whatever he was doing.

A short while later he came out of the shower his hair wet, his body covered in a brown jumper with elbow patches and black trousers. This was one of her favourite looks on him but only if he had his glasses on. He walked over to her.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They walked to his car in silence, just before getting in the car she spoke.

“Thank you.” There was a small pause as she looked at him. “For last night, I can't remember any of it. So thank you for keeping me safe.”

He looked up at her as cold as ice, he looked like he was fighting back the tears.

“We shouldn’t do this anymore. I’m ending the contract between us.” He opened the door and sat on the driver’s side.

She had no choice but to follow him, she didn't even know where she was. She sat in the passenger side.

“What... Why?”

“It’s not going to work. I should never have started this. Don’t worry about your grades they will stay at a high A-plus.”

“You think I give a shit about my grades? After what we have just done. I thought… You… I...” It took a few minutes for her to gather her thoughts. He had already pulled out of the parking garage and was driving to the university. “You used me,” she said in disgust.

“Yes.”

He never took his eyes off the road. She should feel hate towards him like she did last night. But she just felt well and truly hurt. She forgot in the grand scheme of things this is what their relationship always was, ‘A Business Agreement’ of sorts. The rest of the short car journey was spent in silence. She tried not to make a sound but the silent tears fell cascading down her face and falling onto the window. She watched aimlessly out the window and the passing scenery she felt numb. She had let herself get close, she let the feeling go. She should never have opened up and let anyone in. It always ends in heartache.

The car stopped and she let herself out, the rain thrashing down against her skin. She didn't even realise it was raining. Not daring to look at him, or speak to him, she walked off, in search of her room. He heard a soft ‘sorry’ or maybe even ‘bye’ but she didn’t pay much attention, she couldn’t care less.

//

He got back into the car after half-heartedly shouting bye and that he was sorry. The rain fiercely pelted against the mettle of the car. The next thing he did was hit the steering wheel several times. Kicking it, punching it, screaming at it. Nothing was helping. He shouldn’t have done that to her. She deserved more, he let his desire for her overrule the clean and rational judgment. Why could he not have done the decent thing?  Fuck! It’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? There was no going back now, was there? He gathered his jacket, putting it on before heading to his office preparing for his lecture in an hour.

An hour later, he was walking to his lecture when he spotted her red hair, shining bright red against the contrasting the white of the concrete walls. He stood there watching her: walking through the crowds of brunettes and blondes, gone was the person that left his car a little over an hour ago. Here was the person, the none caring straight-A student who had no time for parties and no time for romantic relationships. But deep down he knew she was hurting and it was his fault. He took one last look at her and entered the lecture hall.

*************

Have no fear the next chapter is half-written and will be with you very soon.

Thank you for reading, As always I appreciate your feedback good or bad.

[warp6]

The Incongruity of Softness

I offered 5-10 sentence fics as a favor in return for readers of my WIP doing me the favor of giving me some extra feedback, and, as mentioned when I filled mia-cooper’s prompt, I’ve never kept a fic to a short word count in my life, sooo... This is this for the inimitable @jhelenoftrek. It ended up blooming even farther over the supposed sentence count than Mia’s and became enough of a Thing that I put in on AO3, which I decided to roll with since Helen wrote me not one, but TWO, fics when I was sick/sad about being Left On The Wrong Side Of The River this spring. So she deserves much thanks for that as well! <3

(And yes, I promise am still working on the actual WIP that started all this.)

Prompt: I don't see nearly enough writing about Chakotay building things. Can you write something about him in a wood shop for me?  Or making something with his hands?

content warnings: past battle/intense violence description; past major injury description; food mention

Fun Facts:

The Nechayev knitting joke is a bit of a mythology gag (let’s pretend I planned it that way rather than realizing the happy coincidence as I was already typing it out), since Natalija Nogulich is an IRL knitter!

Tomorrow today, June 24th, is, in fact, National Praline Day. Happy NPD!

Read on AO3, or...

The circular saw bites through the soft pine-like wood, spraying aromatic sawdust across the floor. The tarp spread over the carpet under my makeshift workstation shows off the pale specks like stars, except in the places where my feet have scuffed through the drifts as I work. If the tarp were a galaxy, my footprints would be...black holes? Exceedingly large black holes wider than Federation space?

Oh, well. No analogy’s perfect.

I have eight front chair legs cut--a much simpler process, merely trimming the ends of the pre-cut alien wood--and twenty-one days to cut these angled back legs and all the other pieces, and assemble the four chairs and their matching table. I could have made any other gift for the newlyweds, of course, any of them less time-consuming, but I wanted to do this. A family should have some furniture that isn't replicated.

Kathryn has been making a lace table runner, knitting the delicate pattern by feel. Sometimes as I pass by her door, I can hear her voice querying the computer about stitch count or pattern rows, and the calm tones of Voyager’s response. At our first dinner back in the mess hall after the mission, I told her--Kathryn, not Voyager--that she should save her time. After all, what crewmen would dare use a tablecloth made by their captain? She just laughed and told me we should visit the newlyweds for dinner, and then they’d have to. And when we’re there, Chakotay, you spill just a drop, just a drop of red wine on it. Then it’s no longer flawless, and they can use it when they have a gaggle of fat, rambunctious babies and they’re all throwing mashed carrots across the table.

I don’t know. I don’t think I’d risk staining a gift from my commanding officer, even if my other commanding officer messed it up first.

I would. If Admiral Nechayev gives me a table runner when we get home, I’ll use it.

Well, Kathryn, you’re not just anyone.

The last scrap falls from the end of the fourth back leg, and I blow the sawdust from it--more a ceremonial gesture than a practical one--and walk across the room to place it with the others. Every time I stand for a while, I forget the newly healed bones in my foot, and every time I start walking, the unevenness of my gait reminds me. Enough crew members were injured during the mission that, in consultation with the brides-to-be, we ended up postponing Mariah and Evelyn’s wedding by a month and a half, long enough to get repairs comfortably underway, and for most of the wounded to recover or at least get mobile again. And, last but not least, for some of us to catch up on our gift-making.

It hardly seems fair, Tom opined the other day, leaning his elbow on our table in the mess hall. You two are pretty much obligated to make a gift for everyone who so much as gets a haircut on this barge. Births…weddings…milestone birthdays… The Captain made her future assistant a baby blanket way back in our old glory days in Kazon space, and now you’re both roped into making cutesy gifts for the next few decades.

Some of us might consider that a stroke of luck, Tom, Kathryn drawled in return. We have a chance to exercise our creative abilities, much as you do with your holodeck programs. In fact, I can’t help but notice that you’ve presented a new holonovel or setting to just about everyone who has had a milestone life event on board.

Yeah, Tom, chimed in Harry. We can’t help but notice.

Well, that’s different. I’m always trying to hone my skills, and if I happen to be working on something I think someone might like around the time they’re having their bash, I gift it to them. It’s not as though I suckered myself into Starfleet arts-and-crafts for the next few decades. He leaned back, smirking broadly, and the young ensign sitting next to him stiffened, eyes widening as though she expected lightening to strike our table in retribution for a mere lieutenant calling his commanding officers suckers.

Kathryn, of course, simply rolled her eyes and laughed, and I had to duck my head to hide my amusement at poor Ensign Blain’s shock at the humor--or what passed for it--on display at the officer’s table. This was the first time she had sat at the same table as her captain, or at least, the first time she had intentionally brought her tray to the table where Kathryn was sitting for a full meal, as opposed to Kathryn sitting at her table for a few minutes as she made a few connecting-with-the-crew rounds.

I could tell, without a word from Kathryn, that the first time she went down to the mess hall after the mission, she was assuming she would be eating close to alone. That instead of officers and crewmen joining the table where she sat with whoever on the senior staff was free, they would be inclined to avoid her, consciously or not. I could tell by the resigned yet still tense set of her jaw; from the way she took her tray and retreated to the corner table, taking a chair facing out towards the viewport so that no one would have to look at her.

It was with fierce pride and gratitude that I watched as, instead, more crewmembers than ever joined her. The trend continued over the following weeks: crewmembers of all stripes, from the middle-aged officers who were Kathryn’s closest friends off the senior staff to young, mildly terrified crewmen and everyone in between. Some of them were awkward about looking at Kathryn, but to a person, they were tactful. And they were there. I was still walking with leg braces for the first few weeks while my crushed ankle bones regenerated, and it was at once surreal, touching, and hilarious to see two young lieutenants bounce out of their seats at once when I made to push my chair out mid-meal. Did I need more ketchup? Yamok sauce? Mustard a la Neelix?

Glancing at Blain that day, I found myself thinking of the long, tense week near the beginning of our journey when she’d been laid up in sickbay with an alien virus. It was before many tight friendships had had time to form onboard, and it was Kathryn who dressed in full bioprotective gear every day after her bridge shift and sat beside her very young officer, reading aloud and talking to her and dozing beside the biobed through the night.

Reaching the midpoint of the next back leg, I power down the circular saw and reach for the jigsaw. I can’t help but smile as I inhale the scent of the smooth, pine-like alien wood gained in that long-ago trade with the Tak Tak and watch the sawdust drift through the air like stars.

I killed five or six aliens on the away mission. At first, it was a firefight, dodging behind rocks and into sodden ravines, but we lost our weapons before long in the crush of bodies and the driving rain. After that it was a melee. Fists against skin, boots against teeth, bodies slammed into the mud and piling on top of each other.

The first two I shot, phaser set to stun, but in a half-drowned bog, with the lead pellets of the enemy weapons flying through the air, that was certain enough death. The next four I fought hand-to-hand, and it’s the last one I wrestled in the mud, the one who got his hands around my throat after I’d been shot, that I’m not sure whether or not I killed. There was a crack even over the sound of the rain as I got a knee into his chest and pushed, but I didn’t see whether his eyes went glassy or not. I didn’t see anything. I woke up in sickbay.

Five or six. The or bothers me. I took lives, and would like to know how many. But to choose a number would also feel wrong, as though I were trying to make something as real as life and death falsely pat for the sake of something as immaterial as memory.

So. I killed five or six aliens on the away mission. Kathryn must have killed a similar number in the melee, and at least a dozen more when she crawled into the enemy shuttle’s engine and triggered the explosion that ended the battle and ripped half of her face apart.

The chair legs have all come out well so far, the silken wood with its beautiful streaks and swirls cutting as easily as the pine they smell so similar to. I run my fingers gently over it as I set the penultimate back chair leg in the corner, wondering at the incongruity of this softness in hands that so recently spilled blood and broke bone.

I wonder if Kathryn feels the same dissonance, carefully knitting her domestic wedding gift by feel as the biobandage and headgear wrapped around her face do their slow work, regenerating muscle and cartilage and restoring the majority of her sight. I wonder if she has made a count of the lives extinguished by her actions and under her hands; if she has or’s, and whether she finds those uncertainties a torment or a comfort or besides the point. I wonder if the table runner will smell like her when it is finished, coffee and perfume.

The final back chair leg emerges from the alien timber, and I blow away the sawdust, setting the saw back on my makeshift worktable. Front legs and back legs are all stacked in the corner behind the couch. I’ll begin assembly after dinner, or failing that, after tomorrow’s shift--Neelix is hosting a dessert celebration tonight in honor of an ancient Earth holiday he rooted out of the database, National Praline Day. He declined to mention what Earth nation it was that set aside an entire day to honor pralines, but one thing is certain: like all of Neelix's cross-cultural culinary ventures, tonight will be an experience to be remembered.

I suspect that Kathryn will kick my ass if I walk over and imply she might need help getting to the mess hall--aside from her habit of self-reliance, Starfleet ships’ computers provide plenty of well-honed guidance for blind visitors and crew.

Still, we are both going to the same place.

I ring the chime right as the door opens and she emerges, stopping on her heel just before she collides with me.

“Come to escort your captain to dinner?” Her voice is amused, but with just a trace of warning.

“Come to ask if my captain will escort me.”

She chuckles and steps forward, reaching for me. Her hair swings near my face as she takes my arm, and I catch the scent of her, coffee and perfume.

“You smell like pine.” She is smiling at me, her lips curving upwards as much as they can around the thinner, contoured bandages covering the bottom of her face. “Were you working on the gift again?”

“Just now. Were you?”

“I was.” We step into the turbolift. “It’s relaxing, isn’t it? Working with one’s hands?”

“I’ve always found it to be.”

We ride in comfortable silence, which Kathryn breaks again as we step out of the lift. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate that you make time for these things? Gifts; helping to coordinate celebrations? It’s not in your job description--well, not to this degree--and I appreciate you--” She pauses. “I could direct you to do a basic level of party planning, but...I could never order you to be the kind of XO who builds chairs for crewmen who are getting married. And I…appreciate that you are that kind of XO, Chakotay.” She’s already using her Captain Voice in preparation for dinner, all graceful humor and round speech-giving vowels.

“Kathryn, I think it’s safe to say that we both do more than a few things outside of our Starfleet regulation job descriptions.”

“Maybe so,” she allows with a light chuckle. Her footsteps abruptly slow as we approach the mess hall doors, though, and she halts just before they will sense out motion, turning to me and placing a hand on my chest.

“I’m glad we can do this,” she says softly. “I’m glad that, after everything, you’re still…we’re both still people who choose to do this.” With that, she turns back towards the doors and leads us through, gracefully unlinking her arm from mine as we mingle into the dinnertime crowd.

I’m glad too.

[asreoninfusion]

You can tell I have uni work to do because I’m procrastinating by hanging out on the FFVII Kink Meme for a second night in a row.

I think I’m starting to get the hang of making smutty minifics that are actually short. (I can write so many more fills if they only take a couple of hours instead of days. >3)

Prompt: Crossdressing!Cloud, gangbang. SOLDIERs or Turks, not non-con.

Warnings: Gangbang (obviously); consensual non-consent/consent play, but like it’s not made a huge deal of? I’m not sure the best way to explain it; you would figure that’s probably the kind of scenario they’re playing out, but it’s not super intense or anything. They very obviously have safewords and use them right from the start.

Pairing: ASGZC

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

The concrete was cold and hard beneath Cloud’s back, a stark contrast the heat of rough hands that pinned down his wrists and thighs. The four men who had grabbed him and shoved him down were all over him. Fingers clawed at his stockings, pulled at the skirt and bodice of his dress until the fabric creaked in warning.

Cloud huffed. “Chocobo,” he said. The hands on him immediately loosened, touches turning soft and consoling in an instant, the faces of his lovers looming above him suddenly concerned. That wasn’t what Cloud had wanted. “Don’t you dare ruin my dress. Um. That was all.”

Genesis chuckled, the worry bleeding out of his expression. “Our apologies, Cloud.”

“What would you like us to do?” Sephiroth queried softly.

Cloud squirmed against the unforgiving ground. The silky fabric didn’t do much to protect him from it, but that wasn’t the issue. It was more… the feel of it. The tightness, the texture. The taboo of it, and the taboo of it in this situation even more so. He liked his dress, thank you very much.

“Leave it on,” Cloud said, licking his lips. “Don’t rip it, and don’t get any stains on it.”

“Aw, Cloud,” Zack whined, though without any real complaint. It was a tough ask, since things did tend to get… messy. But it would be worth the effort. Cloud in a dress was a gorgeous sight. Cloud utterly dishevelled and ravaged with his dress in complete disarray, barely clinging to him, would be even better.

Cloud nodded. “Gyshal.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes through the small moment of silence and shifting movement while the others settled back into their roles. Cloud made a choked noise as a hand suddenly gripped his throat, shoving him down into the concrete and forcing the air from his lungs.

The other touches returned, even rougher than before – though not threatening his dress, this time. His skirt was yanked up, bunched around Cloud’s waist, exposing the lingerie he wore beneath. Fingers traced the outline of the lace – clever, appreciative fingers; Genesis, then – before dipping beneath and tugging them down.

“Pretty little slut, aren’t you?” he murmured. “All dressed up for us.”

There were hands all over Cloud. Sephiroth held Cloud’s wrists and Zack dragged Cloud’s stockings down, careless of his fingernails scratching the skin beneath. It was Angeal’s hand around Cloud’s throat and his shifted it now to firmly grasp Cloud’s jaw instead.

Cloud’s head was forced back, and lips pressed against his. Angeal kissed him firmly, working Cloud’s mouth open despite Cloud’s groans and sliding his tongue inside to taste him.

It must have been Sephiroth then who undid the zip at the back of Cloud’s dress. Not to take it off – just to loosen it enough that it fell from Cloud’s shoulders and left his chest partially exposed. Exposed enough for Genesis to grin wickedly and take one of Cloud’s nipples between his teeth.

Cloud arched, his muffled cry swallowed by Angeal’s bruising kisses. He tried to kick out as his ankle was grabbed and pulled, but he only ended up inadvertently aiding Zack.

Zack worked Cloud’s panties off one leg, but left them pulled down to his calf and hanging off the other. They were too pretty to remove entirely – he looked better with them half on. He parted Cloud’s knees and kissed the inside of Cloud’s thighs, tugging at the sensitive flesh with his teeth when it made Cloud squirm.

Cloud gasped when Angeal finally released his mouth, his lips kiss-swollen and slick with saliva.

“He has a cute mouth,” Sephiroth commented.

Angeal grunted, taking over from Sephiroth in pinning Cloud’s wrists down. “You should use it.”

Sephiroth’s reply came with the sound of a zipper being drawn down. Cloud turned his head away, but the slick head of Sephiroth’s cock still nudged against his cheek. Hard already – well, they’d been trailing Cloud for a while, cornering him… it must have been a fucking thrill for them.

A hand gripped Cloud’s hair hard enough to make his eyes water. “Suck him,” Angeal rumbled, a low command by Cloud’s ear.

Cloud whimpered as that cock bumped against his lips. He didn’t have a choice; he opened his mouth and let Sephiroth fill him. His senses were immediately filled with the taste and smell of male arousal, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

It was distracting enough that Cloud didn’t notice Genesis’ actions. Not until Genesis returned, fingers slicked with lube, and pressed them against Cloud’s entrance.

They’d prepped him earlier, so taking a single finger was easy. Cloud still shuddered though, caught up in their little scenario, jerking his hips as if could try to get away. That only made Genesis hold him down, his grip like iron, while he quickly added a second finger and pumped them inside Cloud.

Cloud moaned around Sephiroth’s cock. That was what he loved about this, about having so many partners. It was overwhelming. So many sensations at once that he could get totally lost in it. Being pinned down, the tugs to his hair. A dick in his mouth, saliva trickling down his chin as he messily, desperately sucked on it. His legs spread and held apart by insistent hands, Zack’s teeth and tongue marking his inner thighs. Two fingers in his ass, spreading him open for what was inevitably to come next.

Genesis withdrew, and Cloud’s knees where pushed up and spread. He didn’t even have time to brace himself before the tip of Zack’s erection nudged against him, then shoved all the way inside.

Zack was an enthusiastic as ever, and a little rougher given the scenario. He pounded into Cloud with quick, powerful thrusts. He was using Cloud for his own pleasure, uncaring of making it feel good for Cloud. It still felt fucking amazing though. Cloud own cock was hard and aching, precum drooling against his stomach.

Sephiroth came down Cloud’s throat and Zack came buried deep in his ass. Cloud flushed deep crimson, ashamed and used but so aroused. There was no chance to recover before Genesis took Zack’s place.

Another cock filling him. Genesis slid inside easily, Cloud’s ass already well stretched and lubricated with Zack’s cum. It made the filthiest wet noises as Genesis slowly fucked into him, his eyes blazing with lust as he stared down at their gorgeous conquest.

They all had their turns with Cloud before the end. He was made to suck Angeal while he jerked Zack back into hardness, and when Zack came a second time he shot his load all over Cloud’s face. Angeal filled Cloud’s mouth, leaving flecks of cum drooling from Cloud’s lips. Sephiroth flipped Cloud over onto his knees once Genesis was done and shoved into Cloud from behind. He ran his hands over Cloud’s ass as he fucked him, spanking Cloud hard enough to make him cry out just so he could revel in the sound.

The concrete was utterly unforgiving as Cloud was fucked into it. His elbows and knees were sore, as was his abused throat. And his ass. By the time Angeal had his turn, Cloud could only sob brokenly. At least Angeal made it quick; quick, but brutal, gripping Cloud’s hips hard enough to bruise as he slammed into him. He didn’t come inside like the others had; he pulled out and shot over Cloud’s ass and lower back, leaving him with thick strings of cum dripping down the backs of his thighs.

“I think he enjoyed that,” Genesis smirked, fingers wrapping around Cloud’s achingly hard erection.

Cloud whimpered. It took only a few strokes, already so turned on from being used for so long. Cloud moaned as he came, pleasure washing through him in shuddering waves.

They took a picture of him like that. Cloud slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore; they shoved him onto his back and took another photo.

His dress, so beautiful and immaculate at the start of the night, was a crumpled mess, still pulled up to leave him exposed. There were marks on his thighs and on his throat, and cum all over his face and between his legs. Used and exhausted, flushed, panting. Gorgeous.

Zack gathered Cloud into his arms, and Sephiroth gingerly removed the dress, doing his utmost to ensure it didn’t get stained by any bodily fluids in the process. Angeal wrapped a blanket around Cloud instead.

“Alright. Time to get you back up to bed,” Zack said.

Cloud hummed in agreement, a sound that was pure contentment. He loved having four boyfriends.