black-and-yellow · 2 years ago
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wish i was a little bit taller wish i was a baller 💀
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cvnntagious · 3 months ago
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Liquor | M. Sturniolo
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"What did you slip up in my cup, girl? / 'Cause I want you." -Chris Brown
pairing : Bsf!Matt x Fem!Reader
summary : After a night of hard partying for his 21st, Matt couldn't think of a better gift than yours.
warnings : use of y/n, drinking, a pet name used once (baby), smut, sex while intoxicated, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, hair pulling, 18+
a/n : this lowk jumps right into it cs i forgot it was even their birthday until now (fake fan) and i'm sort of rushing, sorry. anyways, i theorize that if matt were a straight liquor guy (which i doubt cs cocktails seem more him), he'd love pink whitney.
-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!
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The two of you stumbled into the house, eagerly kicking your shoes off at the front door. You guys were hand in hand as you giggled all the way up the stairs at the entrance of the Triplets shared home. Matt dragged you to the kitchen, his grin never faltering as he looked back to make sure you were still behind him, as if he weren't practically controlling your movements with the hold he had on your hand. "I have more," Matt slurred.
You giggled, less intoxicated than him, but still definitely feeling the liquor in your system. "Do we need more?"
"For tonight," Matt answered as he opened his white cabinet, pulling a large bottle of unopened Pink Whitney and some tiny red solo shot cups seemingly out of nowhere.
There was pure confusion written all over your face as you watched him meticulously pour two shots, as if this weren't his first night drinking. Matt looked up at you, noticing the look on his face as he kept him his drunken toothy grin, "What? I've been saving it."
"You do know there's little shot bottles you could've gotten, right? You're never gonna finish that entire thing," You teased him as he handed you the small cup.
Matt rolled his eyes. "Might take a few years, but it'll get finished," He playfully replied before lifting his shot to you, raising an eyebrow as if asking 'ready?'
At his proposition, you raised your shot up to his, clinking them gently before downing the alcohol. For being a supposed sweetened drink with the pink lemonade, it didn't hold back in creating that burning sensation in your throat. Both of you grimaced, clicking your tongues at almost the exact same time once you'd swallowed. The look you gave each other instantly made you guys laugh, amused by the faces you had on only amplified by the buzz of the many drinks you'd had tonight.
Once the laughter had died down, the two of you were left staring, shamelessly eyeing each other up and down. In a drunken stupor, it's easy to see someone in a light you'd never before, and right now, exactly that was happening. It felt like the air surrounding you had gotten thicker, and you were sure Matt felt the same with the way his chest heaved with each breath. "Something up?" Matt finally broke the ice.
"I couldn't help but think-" You started, only for your breath to hitch at the thought of what you'd almost admitted. Clearly the alcohol was giving you a confidence you weren't quite sure you liked.
Matt chuckled at your pause, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips as his eyes averted to the ground before sucked his teeth. "The same thing as me?" He asked, looking back up into your eyes, "You wanna give me a... birthday present?"
It took a moment to register what he meant, but when you did, your face immediately flushed. The way he'd read your mind caught you off guard, forcing you to question if you'd been this obvious all night. Of course, with your best friend all dressed in his best outfit to celebrate his special night with his brothers, casually passing liquor through his system and clinging to you in the club, you'd began to feel your second heartbeat at how good he began looking as the night went on. You knew going home with him was a bad idea, but you just couldn't find it in good conscious to let him get in that uber alone.
"Don't worry, I overheard your friend earlier," Matt explained, understanding why you probably went silent at him voicing your exact thoughts randomly, "When she was talking about how she'd love to give me a 'special present' tonight."
You gave him an embarrassed nod, unsure of how to respond to that. Matt sighed, having hoped you'd give him something more to work with. Something else that told him you wanted exactly what he did. "Well, I just couldn't help but think that if she would've offered, I would've easily said no."
Brows furrowing at his words, you tilted your head in confusion. "So..?"
"But I'm wondering if you're gonna offer, too."
There's a silence that almost pains him when he looks to your red-tinted face. "It's fine, you do-"
Matt groans when your lips meet his, arms instantly moving to wrap around you. His neck cranes to deepen the kiss, tongue now sliding into your mouth as both of your strong beverages throughout the night mixed with your saliva. You never thought you'd actually do this, but fuck where you glad you did. I suppose seeing Matt loosen up a little had turned you on more than you'd thought because you almost moaned at the feeling of his hands sliding up under your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your back.
"Jump," Matt demanded once he broke the kiss, catching you in his arms when you did as he said. His lips attached to your neck, carrying you over to his white couch, clearly too impatient to go just a few more feet in the opposite direction to get to his room.
He sat on the couch, your body on top of his as his hands reached down to grip your ass under your dress. "Matt," You breathed out.
Again, he sucked his teeth, unable to contain that buzzing grin he wore the majority of the night. He bunched your dress up over your ass and looked down at the wet spot on your panties, chuckling to himself as the thought of getting you so hot and bothered without actually doing anything alone was enough to stroke his ego in just the right way.
His finger slipped between your bodies, pushing the fabric that kept him from seeing his soon ti be favorite sight to the side. He looked up at you, lips parted as his breathing became ragged. He'd never give up something so gorgeous now that he had it, that's for sure. "You're dripping," He said after a moment.
"I– Fuck, I need you so bad," You admitted, lifting yourself ever so slightly.
Your words were like music to his ears, your pussy an artistic masterpiece pained by Michaelangelo himself. He didn't hesitate to unbuckle his jeans, only bothering to pull them down enough to free his cock when his boxers came down too. His dick sprung up, so hard that it hit his stomach and his pink tip looked an agitated red. Hands on your hips. he lined your fluttering entrance up with him, staring intently at your guys' most sacred parts before very slowly sliding you down onto him.
The stretch made you wince, causing Matt to lover you even slower. When he finally bottomed out, you both groaned. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, taking a moment before using the leverage to push yourself off of him.
Agonizingly slow as you bounced on his cock, making him let out low groans. "Any faster?" He asked impatiently, although not wanting to rush you in case you were struggling to take him.
You giggle before picking up the pace. His jaw went slack and his head fell back on the couch almost instantly, stifled moans falling from his open mouth every so often. The way his blunt fingernails dug into your hips made you squeal, moaning with each thrust.
It didn't take long for him to grab a fistful of your hair from behind you, pulling your head back as you both moaned. The bouncing never stopped, a slick of sweat now coating your bodies. The moans and skin-on-skin slapping sounds were shameless.
"Mhm, fuuckk." Matt's chest heaved, having a hard time hiding the trembling of his body beneath you. "Close, baby— so close."
"M- me too," You struggled to say as Matt began helping your now tired movements.
"Cum-" Matt started, head dipping to rest on your sweat-covered shoulder, "Cum with me."
With that, you reached your breaking point, releasing all over his cock with a high pitched moan. The feeling of you clenching as you cam around his cock sent Matt over the edge, whimpering when he began painting your ruined walls. You guys rode out your highs, bodies slowing before coming to a complete halt.
Matt lifted his head to look at you, your face glistening with that after sex glow. He couldn't help but smile that same intoxicated smile.
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wittlesissyb4by · 9 months ago
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"What's the matter?" Stephanie asked, coming back upstairs. "Everyone's here, it's time for brunch. Why are you taking so long to get out of bed?"
Oh shit. I forgot people were coming over today. I slept in, but that wasn't why I was taking a while to get up. Right as I slipped from dream space and back into reality, my brain eventually woke up enough to realize something was wrong.
Stephanie read my face almost instantly. "It happened again, didn't it?" she sighed. Giving me that accusatory, exasperated look.
I clutched the sheets to my shoulders. But that was way too obvious. I shouldn't have done that.
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She ripped the blankets down, tearing them from my grip.
"Well..." she said, sighing and somewhat smiling to herself, almost as if she expected this.
I tried to turn away, to hide my stained undies, but there was no hiding the little puddle soaked into the sheets.
"Another wet dream?!" She exclaimed incredulously.
It was my 3rd one this week. They'd been happening more and more lately. It wasn't too much of an inconvenience. It was just extremely embarrassing, and Stephanie liked to press the issue.
"You really can't control yourself, can you??"
"It's not my fault!" I whined, trying to salvage some dignity in my soaked, sticky boxers. "You've had me locked up for weeks! And your teasing isn't helpin--"
"Oh don't try to blame this on me!" She scoffed, smirking, "You wanted this. You wanted to do this whole 'chastity play' thing. You told me not to let you out no matter how much you beg. I'm just going by what you said..."
I scrunched up my face. She was right. I hated that she was right. This was literally what I asked for, but it sounded way more fun in my head...
But I also didn't think she would take to it so quickly. She really seemed to enjoy teasing me. Giving me little tickles in the crotch as I walked by. Whispering seductive, dirty things in my ear while we were out at dinner. Even taking the cage off every now and then to edge me several times before putting ice cubes to it so she could stuff it back in. It was torture, she knew it, and she loved it.
"Besides..." she continued, "why would I need to unlock you when you're getting plenty of release into the sheets?
I pouted at that, but there wasn't much I could retort with.
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"Well..." she sighed, pulling her hair hair up to tie it back. "I think you know what this means..."
It could mean any number of things. When the hair went up, it was her entering 'dominant' mode.
"You're gonna have to go back in diapers."
My stomach plummeted. Diapers?? Not those again...
"I'm sorry," she said, reading my face, not sounding sorry at all, "but this is not the first time you've been having accidents in bed. Remember what happened after New Year's?"
I remember. Of course I remember. She wouldn't let me forget it. I got a little too drunk to the point that I was incoherent enough to miss the entire countdown. The next day, I woke up to wet sheets. She was furious, not just about the piss-stained linens, but the fact that I neglected her almost the whole night.
For the rest of that week, I had to spend the night in a big pair of fluffy adult diapers. I didn't know they made them that big, or that childish.
"Honey please..." I begged, "Don't you think this is a little excessive...?"
"Absolutely not." She said firmly. "Until you can learn to control yourself better, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have to wear diapers all day in case you have another 'accident'!"
I winced at the words. "All day??"
"Yes." She said, "As in 'daylight'. Night time too. I'd much rather wake up to your wet diaper than to wet sheets."
My mind was reeling, but apparently the matter was decided because she headed to the closet. Her ponytail swished back and forth as she dug through. Finally, she found what she was looking for. She held the ridiculous white, crinkly diaper up with a huge smile.
"It's diapy time!!" she cooed.
"But Steph!" I whined as she yanked my sticky boxers down, and lifted my legs up by the ankles so she could slide the diaper underneath.
"You just said everyone is downstairs!!"
"Mhmm.." she said, pulling the diaper up over my cage. "What's your point?" she asked, taping up each side.
"They're...they're..."
"I'll let you wear pants." She said, reading my thoughts. "But if you keep whining, I'll send you down there in nothing but your diaper and a t-shirt."
That shut me up real quick. She finished taping up the diaper, making several passes to ensure it was nice and tight, tucking in the folds to ensure there wouldn't be leaks. I tested the bulk, cringing at how loud they were between my legs.
"Try not to move to much," she smirked, "You don't want them to hear the crinkles, do you?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
New tumblr! Follow me here, Subscribestar, or Allmylinks to stay updated!
Another random place too: @wittle5i55ybaby Just in case.
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ellalalala · 3 months ago
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Fade away with you - Il Dottore x Female Reader
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This is based on a post I shared earlier today. Very short but I had to get it out of my system (one day I'll explore this idea a different way but that's a problem for future Ella to deal with). If I see anyone beneath the age of 18/ageless blogs liking this post, I'm blocking you. It's on sight. Also on AO3.
NSFW. MDNI.
Dottore hadn't known solitude until he met you.
You appeared in his life like a Padisarah blooming in spring; a creature so lovely and sweet that he could not believe you could be his. You were all-consuming, you were otherworldly. Your words awakened in Dottore parts of himself that he thought nonexistent; your touch set his entire body aflame and made him understand just how ravenous he had been his entire life.
He had never considered it before - that he could be hungry for something like this: you lying bare beneath him, hair splayed out on the soft pillow, eyes pooling with tears as you took him in. Gracious, generous. Dottore had not known intimacy of this kind before but you showed him all that he had been deprived of. Was it wrong to want more? Should it bother him, that the feeling of your walls enveloping his cock so sweetly was not enough?
A thought that would not leave his mind no matter what he did. Dottore ached with the desire to fill you until he was all you knew; to take and take until you had nothing left to give; to merge your souls into one, forever intertwined, never to be separated by the omnipresent island in the sky. And you would let him - you were kinder than he could ever be, sweeter than all the dandelion wine in Teyvat.
Dottore thrusted in and out in time with your wanton moans. He couldn't remember when his rationality had been overtaken by such desperate want, but that had ceased to matter the moment he slid into you. You were his only respite from a world which despised him - your body a haven he could have never dreamed of.
Archons, and why didn't he meet you sooner? Why did the stars mock him for five hundred years before finally allowing this to happen?
You whined when his cock brushed against that particular spot. He knew you were overwhelmed; your legs, wrapped around his waist, twitched every so often with a plea for release. Dottore reveled in that, too: that he could see you at your most desperate and prolong the sweet torture that he knew you so loved.
"I can't," slipped the miserable confession past your lips, "please, Zandik..."
He brushed damp locks of hair out of your face with a careful hand, kissed your tears with a softness he never knew he possessed. Dottore's gaze was nothing if not fond as he took in the sight of you.
"You can take it, dear," he murmured, slowing his thrusts to an agonizing pace, "Be patient."
It was a lot to ask of you when Dottore himself was on the brink of losing all self-control. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer and closer still; as if the proximity between you would force him to move at the pace that you favored. Had you forgotten, in your haze, that Dottore much preferred these slow, tantalizing strokes? That the sight of you writhing impatiently fueled his lust more than anything?
His lips trailed your skin: beginning with your jaw and stopping at the crook of your neck, where Dottore bit down in time with a sudden, harsh thrust that made you moan loudest. He went as deep as he could - squeezed by your walls in a way that made him groan against you. Intoxicating, divine. You would be his undoing.
"You're teasing. It's- it's too much."
Dottore chuckled softly. "Is it? Can't you take it?"
Fool. Terrible, fatuous fool.
How you'd melted every ice wall that shielded his heart - a shriveled thing, rotten to the core. Never had he yearned so deeply to mark you, to show the world that you had proven him worthy of being desired.
"I need more, Zandik," you said, words coming out in gasps as he pushed in and out, in and out. "I want to come."
Whatever resistance he had was crushed into dust. How could he deny you a thing when you had given him life?
"Anything you desire." He said, before pressing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss. His hands roamed your skin - your hips, waist, breasts, the pads of his fingers brushing against your hardened nipples, eliciting a sigh that sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't get enough; even when your hips bucked against his, even when your fingers tugged at his hair as he thrusted deeper, harder. His hunger for you was bottomless - a mere taste was not enough. Dottore wanted to become one with you; like the ley lines buried deep in the earth.
You broke the kiss first, but Dottore did not spare you the moment to catch your breath. He dove back in, thirsty for more, his heart nearly fluttering when your mouth welcomed his again. Could you feel it, the adoration he held for you? Did his rough kiss convey everything that you made him feel? If you were to open your eyes in that moment, you would have seen the passion with which he kissed you: in his creased brows and eyes closed shut. He focused everything he had on wordlessly telling you, mine. You're mine and mine alone.
He kissed you until his lungs betrayed him. Dottore rested his forehead against yours, the feeling of your warm breath on his swollen lips setting him on fire. Your body had tensed where it was pressed against his own - a sign of your impending release.
His hand moved down to your core, thumb slipping past your slick folds to rub circles against your clit. The moan that slipped past your lips as a result was an exhilarating melody that he could never tire of.
Dottore wished to see you as you came; to catch a glimpse of your expression, twisted in pleasure utterly unbearable. But he couldn't muster that strength, for his own release was creeping closer, turning his movements sloppy, the thrill of the moment too great to bear. He could only hear your voice, the slapping of skin against skin, could only feel the way you took him in - you consumed him with no mercy. Everything you did had formed cracks at the edges of a mask he spent five hundred years carefully crafting.
It was only when you stilled beneath him that he slowed his thrusts. You clenched around him for a brief moment - eliciting a hiss - and then you came undone with a cry that Dottore could feel in his bones.
He nearly forgot about his throbbing cock, still buried deep inside you, for Dottore couldn't tear his gaze away from your face. All coherent thoughts escaped him until all that was left was the same mantra he repeated each time he looked at you: mine, mine, mine.
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Nothings gonna hurt you, Baby
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Yandere Yang Jeongin x fem reader
a/n: cheese IN will always be my favorite and this request brought back my obsession with him "the second one was have Jeongin as a psycho (or something similar) like he is insane for you?" crazy innie for the winnie (sorry LMAO) . i had a lot of fun writing this and taking a break from FFF so i hope you enjoy
Nothings gonna take you from my side.
✫彡wordcount: 2.2k
ヾ(´〇`)ノ♪♪♪ song recs: Nothings Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex
(>ᴗ•)♡´・ᴗ・`♡genre: yandere, nonidol, hurt&comfort, smut w/ plot
ಠ_ಠwarning/contents: not edited , jeongin beats someone up bad, threats(not to reader), one line that implies he murdered someone, you asked for psycho so i came thro, crying (sexy&not sexy kind), extremely possessive, unprotected(ruh-roh), overstim, pet/nick names(innie, jeong, baby &baby, darling, princess), squirting, hair pulling, forehead touches( the crowd goes wild🔥‼️)
tags: requested by @bangmechann ( you're so sweet 😭 you didn't give a lot of details so i hope it's up to your standard and hope you like <3)
SMUT&MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI
"This wasn't the worst idea." You admit as you take another nugget from the container between the two of you. "Kinda nice." You turn and offer Jeongin a smile, and he returns it in earnest.
It was three a.m. on a Tuesday and you found yourself dragged out by your boyfriend to an adventure to get fast food because he couldn't sleep. At first, you complained, but you were starting to come around to it.
You had gotten your food and parked outside of a twenty four hour convenience store. He let you play your music on the radio, he always did. He opened the window per your request, he always did. He told you he loved you before he got out to grab you a drink and a bag of gummy bears to share. He always did. He kissed you passionately, like it was the last time he would see you. He always did.
He left you alone and hurried into the store. He hated the chilly weather, but he would never admit that to you. You loved it too much. And he loved you too much. He snatched up your favorite drink to share and a large bag of the snack, paying as quick as humanly possible.
The sight outside of the deserted store is one that makes fear grip his cold heart. Your car, parked at the edge of the parking lot, has a visitor. A man is reaching into your half-up window, trying to grab at the lock. You're crying as you try to scramble into the driver seat, to get away from him. When you scream, he knows fear for the first time in his life. "Jeongin!"
"Shut up," the man yells back, crossing the hood of the car and grabbing you from that window instead. He gets ahold of your loose sweater, pulling you closer even as you try to slip away.
He's frozen in his spot. His blood is both cold as ice and boiling in his veins. "Innie!"
He drops the plastic bag and is at the car in seconds flat. He's never moved so fast, but the way you're screaming has his entire being wrapped in fear and rage.
He grabs the man by his jacket and pulls him away. When did he become so strong? Is it adrenaline? Rage? He can't even question his sudden strength as he pushes the larger man to the cement ground.
"Jeong!" Your broken voice doesn't register in his mind as he straddles the man. He doesn't know what he's doing. He can only let his emotions take control as he beats on the man.
You open the car door with a trembling hand and slide out, falling to the ground as you watch the scene unfold. You use the car as leverage and hoist yourself up, simply staring: afraid to approach your unhinged boyfriend after the last time he was so pissed off; he had went and threatened someone with a bat. "Jeongin!"
His bloody fist finally stop, fingers wrapping around the man's collar and lifting up his limp body. "I should kill you. I should fucking kill you right here." The man splutters up blood as he tries to plead. "Fucking pathetic." He slams the man down into the ground. "That's my girlfriend, you piece of shit. I should gauge your eyes out for even looking at her! I should cut your filthy hands off!"
"Baby, stop!" He looks over his shoulder at you and you back off in an instant. You've only seen that look one other day. And that day ended with you helping dig a human sized hole in the forest.
"Are you okay, Darling?" His voice shakes, tight with anger. You nod, wiping away your stray tears with your sweater paw. "He didn't hurt you?" It doesn't matter if he did or if he didn't. He's going to regret even being in this parking lot tonight. You shake your head, quietly saying that you're okay.
He gives you a once over, your shaking form doesn't slip his attention before he turns back. "You scared her, you pathetic little shit!" He spits, grabbing the man's neck. "What were you going to do to her, huh?" The man mumbles something that can't reach your ears from your spot by the car, hugging yourself tightly. But whatever he says, it doesn't please Jeongin.
He lifts his fist again, and you turn away, hands over your ears. You lean your head against the cool metal and close your eyes as you cry as silently as you can manage.
He hates to see you cry because of anyone besides him.
You don't know how long you stay like that, but it's long enough for your breath to even out and for your eyes to dry. You jump when you hear him call out for you. You brace yourself on the back window and look over your shoulder. He's finally unmounted your would-be-attacker and sits back next to him leisurely, looking over at his bloodied face with a smirk pulling at his lips.
"C'mere, Baby." You're at his side in a second flat, crouching down and picking up his fist in your hands.
"Are you okay, Jeong?" You completely ignore the wheezing man next to you. You don't want to see his face ever again- even if it has been beaten to a pulp. You kneel next to him and revel in his warmth when he wraps his other arm around you.
"I'm okay, Darling. Don't you worry. Let me see you," he turns your head side to side to inspect for any signs of damage: only finding the emotional wreckage. "Don't cry cause of him, he can't hurt you. Look." You shake your head on his hold, pouting and trying to say you don't want to when he makes you. "Look, Baby."
The man's nose is bent out of place, lip busted and spilling blood. "As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine. No one gets to get away with scaring you." Jeongin turns his attention to the pervert next to the two of you.
"Don't you have something to say to her?" The man coughs out a few gumbled words, but it's not enough to please him. "Speak up, fucker."
"I'm- I'm sor-sorry." The bell above the door rings out loud enough to reach the three of you, and the cashier starts yelling, running back inside as she screams about calling the cops.
"Time to go, Darling."
You're crying again as the adrenaline fades away, cool wind whipping your stray hairs around your face. You don't know where you even are, you're so out of your head. So you don't register that Jeongin has pulled over on the side of the desolate street until he's tugging on your hoodie.
You're confused, mind fuzzy as you let him pull you into his lap and grabs the skirt of your night dress to pull you down. "Why'd we stop, Jeong? Wanna go home." He kisses you out of nowhere, holding you impossibly close.
He pulls away with a sigh and speaks slowly, looking up at you with glazed eyes. "My poor Princess." He whines as he holds your head to his, wiping your fresh tears with his thumbs. "That fuck really scared you, didn't he?" You sniffle as you nod, holding your hands over his.
"Was so scared, Innie."
He coos, kissing your forehead and whispering that you're okay now."Nobody can hurt you, Baby. I won't let them, I won't... not as long as you're with me. I'm not gonna let anything take you from my side. Yeah?"
"Yeah..."
"So stop crying. I've got you now." His words only make you cry harder. He's always there. He's always got you. He's gone to hell and back for you.
"Love you, Jeongin," you whisper into his chest as he cradles your head, rubbing the back of your head. "Love you so much. Thank you, thank you for saving me."
"I love you. I'll always save you. I'll do anything for you. Anything you want, and thing you need. It's yours, I'll make sure."
You lift up from his chest and prop your hands on either side of him. "Anything I want?"
"Yes, Baby, anything at all."
He gave you what you wanted the second you returned home, and you'd been wrapped up in the sheets for a good long while now. You asked him to make you forget everything, to make your mind blank. And by God, he did.
He made you stupid on his fingers. He made you cum four times before he even slipped inside you.
But now, he has you dumb on his cock. Laying back, one leg draped off the edge of the bed and the other wrapped around his hips, you're beginning to feel so much safer.
"My sweet girl," he groans, fingers tightening on your hips as he pulls your limp hips to meet his. "Oh, Darling, don't cry. It's okay."
"No- m'not, I'm not sad. You fuck me so good, Innie." You sing his praise as you force one of your hands up, sighing as it feels like it weighs a ton, and rest it on his shoulder gently. "I love you, love you. I want..."
"What, Darling?"He leans down and slows his thrusts, letting you gather your thoughts.
"I want you to keep me safe forever. Want you to be with you forever. Want you to fuck me forever. I love you, please don't stop!"
His heart swells as your words reach him, hungry thrusts returning quickly as he leans into your shoulder. "Oh, fuck. I love you, I will, I promise I will. Nothings gonna hurt you, Baby."
You bring up your other leg and lock it around him, keeping him as close as physically possible. The headboard is banging from the force of his erratic pace, undoubtedly damaging your walls- but neither of you have a single care in the world.
Even though you want more, your cunt is already weeping in overstimulation. You can still feel your clit buzzing from your previous orgasms and his unrelenting rhythm doesn't give you a change to recoup.
"Jeong!" You don't know what you're pleading for until he gives it to you. His big, warm, bruised hand grabs onto yours, squeezing tightly. It calms every worry in your frantic mind. It also makes the coil in your gut snap.
The squelching in the room increases ten-fold as your abused cunt squirts all over him. He looks down between you with his forehead on your chest, watching closely and holding himself back from cumming on the spot as you grab his hair roughly.
"Fucking fuck, h-oh my God, Innie!" "That's it, Baby," he begins rolling his hips slowly, hitting the breaks on your pleasure but never fully stopping. He know you at least have to breath, and it doesn't seem like you are as you pull at his hair and mumble incoherently. "My fucking Darling, know just how to take it."
He rests his chin on your chest and looks up, smirking at all of the tears which fall and wet your face and neck. "I fuck you so good, don't I? I make you cum so hard, huh?"
He wraps both arms around your torso and holds you close to his chest, flipping the both of you over and making you scream as his cock hits you at a new angle. "Right, Princess?"
"Yes! Yes!" When you go to grind your hips on him, he holds his hand against the small of your back and keeps you still. "Baby, please, need more!"
"Say it." Your mind, foggy with a flood of endorphins, takes a few moments to puzzle together what he wants.
"Oh, Innie," you cup his face and kiss it all over, speaking between pecks, "you make me cum so fucking good. Nobody ever did it like you do. Only you. Only you."
He bites back a smirk and rolls his hips up to reward you before stopping abruptly. "Say you love me."
"Jeongin, p-please fuck me."
"Say you love me, Baby."
"I love you. Love you so much!" Another small roll followed by stillness. You slap his chest as you cry, hits padded by the large hoodie you'd yet to remove in your feral mentality. "Jeong..."
"Tell me you're mine."
"I'm all yours. I'm yours. Please..." This time, the movement of his hips grinding up into your g-spot deliciously doesn't stop. He dips his hands under the wet edge of your hoodie and slips it over your head, pulling your makes chest flush with his. He holds the back of your head and you cradle his cheeks as he connects your foreheads.
"My perfect Darling... nothings gonna take you away from me."
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bubble-popping · 6 months ago
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Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Dream & DreamXD - Ice
decided to do a small snippet for one of my cuter, pure fluff au's (okay it's not all fluff but it's more than enough)
basically dreamxd raises dream as their own after finding him abandoned (full context is more complicated but not necessary here, but i can always elaborate if someone's interested :>)
"Exdee? What's 'frost walker'?" The deity leaned over Their little pupil to see what his index finger pointed at in the book. His latest studies of the enchantment table were going well. Dream took better to the Ender language than Exdee expected. "It's an enchantment for your boots. It turns the ground you walk on so cold, you can even turn water to ice."
Dream's eyes got wide with excitement and fascination. "To ice!? That sounds awesome! So, I could just walk over water?!"
Exdee nodded. "That's correct. But, it can hard to control your-"
"I wanna try it! I wanna run across the ocean!" The little boy threw his arms out with determination, earning a chuckle from his divine mentor.
"The ocean might be too difficult. We can start with a small lake. How's that sound?"
"Okay!" Dream happily beamed.
After helping the child apply the Frost Walker enchantment to his boots, Exdee teleported them to the nearest lake.
Experimentally, Dream hovered his foot over the edge of the water, watching for any differences as it slowly descended. Once his toe got to just an inch above, he could hear and see the water freeze. When his boots made contact, the cold spread a little further out around his foot.
"Woah! It's working!"
Exdee smiled warmly, the eyes of Their revolving halos squinting in fondness. Something about witnessing another being discover the world They already knew so well with such enthusiasm was endlessly endearing.
Dream took his first step fully on the water's surface, giggling as it again became ice from the touch. He looked up for a moment, likely to gauge Exdee's reaction. "Look! Look, Exdee, I'm doing it!"
"That you are, Dreamer. You're doing wonderfully."
His freckled face lit up, then turned back as he went to take another step with confidence. Except, stepping off from the ice proved more challenging than the shore, and his foot slipped.
A gasp had just barely left his mouth when arms hooked under his armpits, stopping his fall before it even really started.
"I've got you. Tougher than it looks, huh?"
"Yeah... But, I can still do it! I swear!"
"Well of course. I believe in you. Let's take it slower though. Small steps."
Exdee lowered the boy back onto his feet, disembodied hands now taking Dream's to provide support as he shuffled forward. The deity floated just behind him, watching each move carefully for any signs of imbalance.
This time, Dream planted himself firmly, movements full of purpose and precision. He made sure the ice could hold him as he walked. Then, the walking became hops, became leaps, became a game of covering the entire lake in a layer of ice capable of holding him. Soon, the sound of Dream's laughter and his heels scraping over the frozen water filled the air. He seemed to take a liking to gliding across it, finding running too precarious. Exdee became content to remain at a distance, letting Dream have freedom over the whole area.
"You're a quick study in everything, Dreamer. Look at you, ice-skating already."
"Ice-skating?" Dream tilted his head in inquiry as he slid smoothly backwards, not looking behind him, not needing to. "Is that what this is called?"
Exdee nodded. "Indeed it is."
"Have you ice-skated before?"
"Can't say I have."
"Then come skate with me!" Dream skidded to a stop in front of the towering being. "I can teach you! It's really fun!"
"Oh, you'll teach me?" Exdee asked, an amused smile on the visible portion of Their face. "Well, in that case, how can I refuse?" They lifted the hem of their robes and formed the lower collective of Their chaotic amalgam into feet that could touch the ice.
"Yeah! Just follow my lead and do what I do," Dream helpfully explained as he held up his hands for Exdee to take. They allowed Dream to pull Them forward, let him guide Them around the lake in circles and figure-eights.
"Will you catch me if I fall, Dreamer?" They asked, ironically, standing at several times Dream's height.
"You won't fall! Not on my watch!" Dream easily answered, grin so wide and sure of himself that Exdee couldn't help but smile along.
With how much energy was somehow bundled in his little body, the two of them were out there for hours, skating over the ice and never letting go of each other the entire time. It wasn't until the sun began to descend that Exdee insisted they go inside and head to sleep.
"But, Exdee, I'm not tir-" The young boy cut himself off due to his own yawn.
"Not tired, was that it?" Exdee rose a brow, arms crossed after They finished tucking Dream into bed.
"I'm not, really!" Dream pouted before he appeared to get a brilliant idea. "But, maybe if you told me a bedtime story I will be?" He looked up through his eyelashes, knowing fully well Exdee couldn't resist his pleading puppy face.
"And what story would you want to hear?"
"The one about the Blood God and the Potato Wars! I love that one!"
"I must've told you that one over a hundred times already, Dreamer. You don't wanna hear any others?" They settled at the edge of Dream's bed as They spoke.
"It's my favorite! And I like how you tell it!" He kicked off his blanket to clamber into Exdee's lap, covering himself with Their robe instead.
"Alright, alright," They acquiesced, maneuvering Their body to lean back against the headboard, arms bracketing Their beloved Dreamer in a warm cocoon. "It all started on a normal day in the Hypixel world..."
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jawbone-xylophone · 5 months ago
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Is this a stellar example of my writing? No. Am I posting it anyway? Yes.
Based on Hades 2 early access. I'm having fun with the idea of ways Melinoë could meet Hypnos.
~🌘🥀🌒~
The escape spell, the cruelly necessary evidence of her failure, tugged Melinoë through the weft of the world like a slipped stitch.
The scythe had hurt. The scythe always hurt, as proper punishment for her carelessness and proof that she was not sharp enough, quick enough, strong enough to complete the only task she'd ever been given- and now the magic primed in case of her failure would reel her back like a naughty kitten, all teeth and claws and no discipline. To darkness. To dreams. To do this again.
"-goodness, your near-deaths are always so violent, it's hard to get a word in edgewise! ...Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?"
In the dark between life and living again, Melinoë blinked.
Sometimes, there were memories here, wrested from the jaws of Time in recompense. Her pound of metaphorical flesh. Sometimes, there was Moros, who was there when all men died.
Here and now, there was a startlingly familiar god with startlingly short curls, grinning at her over a plucked poppy. He twirled it through his fingers and beamed.
"There you are, princess. Welcome to almost dying! You should try not doing that, I hear it's bad for your health."
"Lord... Hypnos?" He was awake? ...did this count as awake? "Is it really you?"
Hypnos shrugged, plucking a petal from his poppy flower. "Really me? That's a funny question. Not a very useful one, but a funny one! I'll think about it and get back to you." He plucked another petal, the little sound too-loud, too fleshy somehow. "You're waking up soon."
She couldn't exactly tell. It was always cold here, skimming the edge of silent oblivion. Melinoë tried to bow with limbs she couldn't feel. "I am honored by your visit, Lord Hypnos, if it is truly you. To what do I owe the pleasure? Perhaps you know of some way to wake your body...? Everyone misses you terribly."
He giggled at her strangely, shaking his head with a queer look like he worried for her head. "Waking me up is the last thing you need to worry about, princess. I'm Sleep! I'm busy. My brother's trapped, somewhere." He smiled, but it showed no teeth, and the gold of his eyes shone with brittle ice. He plucked another petal, calm and controlled, and she heard the flesh of it tear almost wetly, milky sap bleeding over his fingers. Hypnos prodded at it, felt the stickiness between his fingers, and she felt the cold clamp around her spine like gentle fangs.
He would not harm her. Probably. But she'd only watched him sleep her entire life- never actually spoken to him. And he had every reason to be waking in a terrible mood. She swallowed, and clung hard to polite protocol.
"You're waking up," he said again before she could speak, considering the ragged edge of torn petals. "You're trying to kill my uncle- and it seems you're having a bit of trouble! I'm sure you can do it, but maybe try something more effective than stabbing. We've been there, done that."
"A spell, then? Some kind of incantation?" That wouldn't shock her.
Hypnos yawned widely. Perhaps a little too widely, like he hadn't remembered how many teeth a person should have. "Nnno, no. I mean maybe. You never know!" He stretched, blinking heavily, and dragged golden eyes over her ragged body. "What're you the goddess of, anyway? If you're fighting a god, shouldn't you fight like a god? Just an idea."
The goddess of? That. Well. Hm. She'd been raised for a purpose. "Killing Time, I suppose."
Hypnos coughed in the middle of nibbling on a flower, snorted, and erupted in tinkling giggles that filled oblivion with little stars for a moment. "Oh- oh, that's good, wow. I like you. We have to do this again sometime." A final flower petal split off under his fingers, weeping white blood, and he waggled it at her in a little wave. "Or maybe we won't! You're smart, maybe you'll kill poor old uncle Chronos this time. Don't forget my advice and you'll do great, I know it."
She wanted to tell him to wait. She wanted to ask questions, do something. He'd been both helpful and not, if she just asked the right question then perhaps- but the cold prickle of moonlight raced like hellfire through her limbs, shocked awake from mostly-dead to debatably-alive, and the dewy grass of the Crossroads clung to her cheek like poppy sap.
She groaned, long and low, in the smallest moment of wallowing she could afford. Back to killing Time again.
The wind in the withered trees sounded almost like tinkling laughter.
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raisindave · 4 months ago
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[Chapter 66] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses
This final morning was a rainy one, leaving you utterly soaked after your short walk from that dingy motel. The atmosphere was different in the temporary workspace, more dreadful. KKpt at the professor didn't even rear their heads in acknowledgement as you stepped past the glass doors, wringing your soaked shell jacket. You'd finished the night with the idea to use an inversed transpositional cipher and went to bed with the phony joy of a possible solution, leaving the dread of proofreading for the morning. And almost immediately, hazy eyes blink in disbelief at your work from the previous night. Utterly useless, ink now bleeding with stray droplets from your dripping hair. 
Humidity from the air made your clammy skin feel feverish and sticky, clinging to the plastic-ey jacket that crinkles every time you lean to rest your face in your palms. Maybe you're looking at this wrong? What if it's an inside job, and the professor is secretly an armed cultist, the outsider, the one without militaristic security clearance. A glance over your shoulder, he was lying on his back on the wood floor, houndstooth blazer creased as he was clearly lost in deep thought. No, it's not him. Could they be using commercial radio communications? Manipulating stations or songs to send signals, where songs from the 80s mean affirmative and songs from the 90s mean negative. Intelligence would've picked up on that, that kind of surveillance falls into Laswell's field more than yours. They would've noticed something obvious like that long ago, but the sound of movement behind you shattered your concentration. The sound of scuffing boots over your shoulder made you halt your pen entirely, placing it across the paper with an awkward candour.
"I hope we're not being a distraction," that infamous Scottish accent spoke up from behind you; it would've spooked you if you weren't already so hopeless.  
You were seconds away from turning to snap at them for being unhelpful when the unmistakable sound of thick plastic snapped you from your irritation. It's a sound everybody knows, so uniquely distracting, the iconic sound of a plastic cake container being awkwardly pried open.  
"We forgot to ask them to write on it, but Gaz had the idea to write you a message in Morse code," Price nodded, placing a cake beside your damp notepad as you rubbed your eyes. 
"Seeing as you're a linguist and all," Gaz chuckled, clearly pleased with his contribution. 
Not for much longer, it seems.
You craned to look at the unfurled cake, a small treat of puffy chocolate icing with delicate shavings of white chocolate and plump strawberries. An exquisite treat from a bakery a few blocks away, just out of the reach of the barricade. Treats arranged in dots and dashes from licorice and MRE M&M's crudely manifested into a morse message. 'Happy Bsrthday Crscket'. An easy mistake, but you plucked the unnecessary dots to correct the i's and popped them into your mouth, a mistake that made Price jab an elbow into Gaz's shoulder. 
"I've got a birthday candle, too," Soap slipped the dark canister of a CTS Flash-Bang from his vest, trying to fight a creeping grin. 
It managed to pry a weak laugh from your chest, where you'd previously been stunned by the gesture. You'd forgotten your own birthday. Another year of your life passed both horrifyingly quickly and agonizingly slowly. The thought made you lightheaded and mortified at the realization that so much of your life had been spent with this crew. When did you last see Chucky? It'd been a year since you've seen your friends, since you've been in contact with them altogether.
This time last year, you'd made a haphazard attempt to take control of your life by making out with your colleague. A memory that makes you wince. It does explain why these guys remember the date, seeing as they made a point of visiting you at that bar in the first place. As kind as they might be, a reminder of your birthday and the passage of time might not be as welcome as you'd thought. A million thoughts and more crashed into your mind, and sweat pooled in your palms. How old even are you? 28? 29? No, 30? Probably 30. You'll have to do the math later. Holy shit.  
"Kate bought you a gift," Price's voice snapped you out of your trance, rattling your bones. "Simon is still on the overwatch shift, but I'm sure he says 'happy birthday' as well." 
He placed a delicate paper box beside the cake, one that you were eager to pry open to distract your racing mind from the oncoming existential crisis. In a nest of lavender-coloured shredded paper, she'd bought you a scented soy candle and a crinkling bag of fruit-shaped German candies. It made a smile pull at your cheeks at the gesture, willing your conviction to soften, otherwise you'll have a psychotic break. Lilac and vanilla scented, probably bought at one of the boutiques along the tourist quarter. So thoughtful. 
"How've your duties been?" You asked, manifesting your most polite smile as you rolled the small candle in your clammy palm.
In truth, you didn't have the stomach to eat the sweets they gave you, as out of character as that might be. Stress had eaten away at your appetite, and some odd part of you felt strangled with guilt at the thought of the manmade famine those hostages were facing. It doesn't feel right to gorge on cake and candy while you're on the crew bade to find a way to free the pack of frightened students. Or maybe it would feel worse to abandon the food that's so scarce for others. Maybe that's just another pointless ethical dilemma. 
"A pigeon shat on Gaz when he was on overwatch this morning," Soap snickered, sitting himself on the table beside you. 
"I had half a mind not to blast it into a puff of feathers," Gaz nodded along, breaking into a snort, "but it got too close to the theatre."
"Count your rounds sergeant, we're in a fucking city," Price scolded.
"Sir, yes, sir," Gaz chuckled, grinning wickedly under the bill of his cap.
"What if—" KKpt suddenly spoke up from behind you all, leaving you with a pause in her words as she thought. 
The words sounded so abstract for a moment. They sounded like it was just a random sound she'd formed from her vocal cords, but when you turned, her pressing expression sold her seriousness. It didn't look like the eyes you'd become familiar with when she thought she'd had a minor breakthrough in one piece of the cipher, they were so much more thoughtful than that. Intense, void eyes finally snapped to meet yours, sucking the air from the room. 
"What if they're using carrier pigeons," she finally vocalized the thought that had her shocked that she'd even spoken it. 
"Ah, like the Narcos in the 90s," Professor Kraus grumbled as he fought gravity to sit upright.
"It would explain the physical format," she continued, planting her palms on the white tablecloth before her.
"And the need for a seal," your spinning thoughts lunged into speech, springing to your feet.
Your eyes flashed back to your comrades, whose faces each furrowed into intense confusion as the linguists scrambled. Their three pairs of eyes were intently tracking your expression, drinking in the sudden surge of electricity in your posture and straightening their spines. Price cleared the space across the room in four broad steps, flipping through a blueprint that'd been lazily folded on the table. Other than the sound of quickly flipping papers, the room fell into a charged silence, compounded by thick humidity. 
"We have a list of suspicious characters," Price spoke, quickly putting the pieces together. 
Before you could understand what was what, he was flipping open one of those burner phones, hearing the dial tone from across the room. The Korvettenkapitän had taken a posture over Professor Kraus' shoulder, reading line-by-line through a passage of text he followed with his finger. The dial tone rang again, and seconds passed like hours. 
"Do any of the suspicious characters happen to have an interest in aviculture?" you ask, nodding with Price as he parrots your question to what sounds like Laswell answering the phone. 
He stepped from view, ducking into a small server's closet that would've once been lively, filled with pitchers ice water and lemon slices. Even with the assumption of privacy, apprehensive silence in the room left you able to hear the phantoms of their conversation. He mentioned a possible lead; she responded with something you couldn't hear, and you caught the tail end of something about an 'intelligence database.' Gaz tried to play it off like you all weren't rudely eavesdropping, nervously clearing his throat and sighing loudly, but Soap only leaned forward to get a better listen. The difference in both of their levels of manners was hilariously apparent. Finally, Price concluded with a clear 'understood,' and stepped back into view. 
"Kate will run through the sources. She's just next door," he grumbled, slipping the dinky flip phone back into his belt. "She'll come over if she finds anything." 
"So this is our best lead? Carrier pigeons? " Soap tucked his thumbs into the straps over his shoulders. 
"Yes," you three linguists all proclaimed as one. 
"They're out of supplies in there, time is ticking fast," Price's booming voice echoed in the empty restaurant. "These cultists know we're scrambling. I am sick of them having us on the back foot." 
It's scary to see Price be visibly agitated, even if this is probably far from the extent of his genuine wrath. He's right, though. Playing into the first rash idea you have could be playing into their scheme; it could be a diversion to get you out of the area for them to carry out a more dastardly attack. It's a dice roll, but at least that means you're playing the game now. The influx of energy made the room plunge into another apprehensive silence as everyone collectively paused to digest the conclusion. You couldn't handle the stillness, pacing frantically in laps around your colleagues' workspaces. Gaz pried open the heavy curtain over the front window, creasing darkness with pillars of murky light as he craned to look at the theatre. 
"The hostage-takers won't execute until they're given the order, but that order could arrive at any second," Gaz spoke, dropping the curtain and forcing your eyes to adjust to the darkness again. 
"Then we can't let another order arrive," Soap added, settling down into one of the cluttered table settings. 
"Shoot down all of the pigeons until we get one with the note," Price met your eyes. "From there, we can crack it and get into their communication line."
His directed attention made you feel like he was asking for your authorization. He was looking to you to approve this outcome, assuming you can take the baton from there. Your overstimulated mind stuttered at the foray, swimming in possibilities. It felt thrilling to be seen as an authority, but also devastating at the thought of making the wrong decision. Shoot down the pigeons and collect the notes before the terrorists do. 'From there, we can crack it and get into their communication line.' 
"No. Both the sender and the receiver must have the keys to the one-time pads," you finally found your voice to contribute, and Price's eyes almost imperceptibly narrowed. "If we get the message but don't have the key, we're back at square one,"
"She's right. One is useless without the other," KKpt came to your defence, and you felt the tension in your chest loosen slightly. 
A flash of blonde bangs pushed through the glass doors and entered your peripheral. The temporary break from concentration only served to remind you of how tense your jaw is, reminding you to blink. It felt like the air was sparked with anticipation as everyone fell dreadfully silent, listening to every tap of Laswell's petite boots as she approached. 
"One of our key suspects lives just six blocks away from here. She's been on the German Intelligence's radar for some time… and," she slapped a manilla folder on the table, loose polaroids of CCTV footage showed a hooded figure at a phone booth. "Her parents own a dove aviary business."
"That's our 'Oracle,'" Price's gravelly voice made your heart sink and soar in equal measure. 
"What if this is all just a red herring, and we're wasting precious seconds that we could be using to crack the cipher?" Professor Kraus bumbled, shaking his head in shock. "How would we know if she's even the right person?"
"Under normal conditions, surveillance and patience," Laswell rallied, rocking on her heels. "We don't have patience, and this is all we've got."
"We shoot down any pigeons we see until we get one with a note," Price nodded to Soap and Gaz. 
"Shoot the pigeons? In the city with roosts and windows on every corner?" KKpt folded her arms, scoffing in disbelief." You'd have to have an incredible shot to hit a mark like that."  
"Like shooting a bullet with another bullet while riding a horse, yada-fuckin’-yadya …" Soap murmured sarcastically, fiddling with a stray pen that you'd run bone-dry.
"We have to get her in our custody and stop any orders from coming in," Laswell approached Price, tapping the printed CCTV photos atop the file. "John, I need 141 to raid her apartment nearby and bring her into custody. But be careful, we don't know what kind of security she might have."
"Have we forgotten that there are fucking hostages in the theatre still? " KKpt stepped between Laswell and Price's dialogue, standing her ground against these titans. "We have hours until they start executing them, they should be the priority."
"We can't approach the hostages until we've eliminated the threat. They have that entire theatre rigged with explosives," Laswell countered. "We cannot have any more orders reach the terrorists."
"Hang on…" you interrupted her, pinching your lower lip in thought and feeling every pair of eyes settle on you. "I have an idea."
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quinloki · 1 year ago
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Hii! Can i request for kid, killer and zoro
Praise kink,subspace and cockwarming. I love your account so much💖
Oh thank you - I feel like I'm going to quickly become the Kinky Head Canon Account and not the writes multi-chapter smut fics account XD but that's okay \o/
I'm having fun and I write what I want to write, so it works out all good -^_^-
Okay, so before we go into this, subspace is... well... less a kink and more a state of mind. But, I think I know how I'm going to talking about it - I just want to be upfront that it's a little different. Certainly an aspect of kinky things and bdsm though, and not at all a bad thing to put in the ask <3
Let's do this one by character as well \o/ Alphabetical? Sure, sure, why not?
Zoro:
Praise Kink - Yes - Zoro's not overly chatty as a general rule, but he is a little more loquacious behind closed doors. At first it's to ask questions, and make sure everything is going good, and then it becomes part of the process as he becomes more learned and practiced. Dom, sub, switch, top, bottom - Zoro strikes me as the kind of guy who adapts to you and your desires. Sure he'll have some of his own, but he never gave this sort of thing much thought before you, so he's just trying out everything.
Praising you comes so easily though, he doesn't even realize he's doing it at first, and when you praise him in return - he certainly likes that. He can definitely degrade you if you want, but he'd rather sing your praises (and have praises sung to him honestly).
Subspace - FUCK Yes - the first time you sink into subspace Zoro panics. Maybe you never had before, maybe you just didn't think about explaining it to him, maybe you did explain it to him, but hearing and seeing are two different things. It ends up being the end of that particular session, but with the experience and lesson learned, things go much more smoothly going forward. It starts to be a goal for him, to slip you into that state of mind, however he can. The more you like it the more dominate he becomes.
On the flip side, Zoro is a Sure, or I guess. It's a lot of trust to put on his partner, and control. It's not that he doesn't trust you or your control, it's just that he's never been not-in-control and it's hard to let go of. Binds can be broken, but mentally sinking into something like that is a little much.
Cockwarming - Oh god you don't even know - Zoro's a zen kind of guy. He meditates as part of his training routine, and he's often spoken of the philosophies of swordsmanship - not just practical applications. He's surprisingly patient, and unlike his captain he's not at all twitchy or fidgety. Depending on the mood you're both in it can turn into a bit of a battle of wills, but sadly you've got a long way to go to beat him in stamina and focus. In the end you're always the one begging for him to move more, or to let him let you move more. He's not likely to be rushed though >.> So good luck.
Killer:
Praise Kink - Oh god your don't even know - Killer will praise you and accept your praises. But mostly praise you - how well you take him, how sweet you sound, how beautiful your laughter is, how delicious, and warm, and tight and perfect you are. Killer loves to lavish you with praise. You are his good little one, and he'll make sure you never doubt it.
It's also easy to tell that praise effects him positively as well. You can hear his soft moans shiver when you praise him, feel him twitch inside you, the flex in his fingers as he works to control himself.
Subspace - Yes - for pushing you into it unintentionally more often than not, Killer is definitely a Yes. It's icing on the cake, and it's not necessarily something he's going for, but it's nice when it happens. It's an odd kind of praise on its own, that he's filled that dominate role for you so completely your submission has sunk you entirely.
Cockwarming - FUCK Yes - Killer likes to cuddle with you, letting hands and lips wander over one another and just reveling quietly in the connection and caresses. He doesn't get to do it as often as he'd like, you're both busy people, but when there's enough time to just sink inside you and stay there, touch and hold and tease you a little while you try not to squirm against him. It's relaxing to start, and the slow build into something more gives him a chance to flex his will and control.
Kid:
Praise Kink - Yes - Kid'll praise you, so long as you've earned it. Of course, if you're not earning it, your relationship probably isn't going to last that long. He's not withholding it, or demanding anything really, his praise is almost subtle compared to most. It's like a mix of degradation and praise. He can't just seem to call you his pretty [boy/girl/babe], he has to call you his pretty little slut. You make the sweetest whore sounds.
He can try to tone it down, but honestly for Kid, the more degrading his praises are, the more he's actually meaning to praise you. Gods forgive anyone who thinks they can talk to you that way though, cause Eustass won't.
Subspace - Oh god you have no idea - Eustass loves dragging you into subspace. He's liable to press every button he can to get you there fast as possible unless you're begging him not to (for whatever reason). It's not like he has to put forth much effort, there's barely a speck of submissive in his entire body, and once he gets into a groove in a session it's almost impossible to not fall into it.
There's nothing to fear though, if you're under his care he's looking out for you. Established or a one-night stand, it doesn't matter. There's rules to bdsm and being a dom, and they're engraved on his bones.
Cockwarming - Sure - Eustass is a little too much energy and movement to sit still and do "nothing". You can get him to tease and caress and cuddle, certainly, and if the situation is about you staying still and being patient, then he can drag it out like the demon that he is. But, it's not something he's likely to suggest himself.
If he's going to drag out teasing you, he'd rather restrain you and bring all sorts of toys and props and sensations into it. Not that he doesn't want to cuddle or be intimate, but if you want cuddles then don't bring his cock into it >.>
Kinky One Piece Head Canon
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paikothecateater · 13 days ago
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What kind of unique magic abilities do you think Norway and Iceland both have?
They were both born with some and later acquired some, so I'm gonna break this down.
Norway was born with a few abilities, but they didn't exactly begin manifesting right away and when they did, he was more than capable of controlling them. Iceland's on the other hand immediately kicked in and he had absolutely zero control over them. They were also a lot more dangerous than Norway's, so it was really hard for him to even learn how to properly use them without hurting people.
Norway's powers were more psychological than physiological, so he wasn't really risking hurting anyone by using them.
I've mentioned Norway's ability to project thoughts and mess with people's heads, but I never explained it in detail.
His thought projection is pretty straight forward. He has pretty good control over it and it temporarily... Sort of shuts off the other's ability to think because their thoughts are replaced entirely by Norway's for the moment. This leads onto his ability to mess with people's heads and manipulate them into thinking what he wants them to. It's very seamless. You would not be able to tell he did it. He can make people see things too. He actually uses this to allow Denmark, Finland and Sweden to see his creatures. No, I don't personally believe Sweden can see them on his own.
There's also telekinesis but that takes a whole lot more effort and he has still yet to perfect it. He does use it to trip Denmark.
Now, unfortunately, given that his powers greatly rely on his mental and emotional state, when his control of either of those things is compromised, so is his control of his powers.
For example, say Iceland is missing. This is obviously going to cause him a lot of distress. He's panicking so sometimes things around him will begin to shake violently. The radius of how many things are affected depends on how distressed he is.
When he's shocked or surprised, things can just completely stop. It's not obvious unless someone's holding something and it just refuses to move or if it's raining or snowing and it just... Stops. It doesn't change the physical state though, so it's not like the rain becomes an unmovable solid. You just walk into water.
Iceland's powers are more physical and they're harder to control. Being the land of fire and ice I thought I'd give him some form of powers to reflect that. Fire and ice powers are pretty cliché, but I understand that it's a pretty common headcanon for Iceland's powers.
I wanted to put at least some sort of unique spin on this, but it's near impossible, so I did what I can.
Iceland can change the temperature of his body at will. It's a very wide range, and the switch is near instant. You also would not be able to tell he's doing it unless you're close to him in proximity because it doesn't have any effect in terms of appearance. Norway is particularly fond of this ability because it allows him to use his little brother as a microwave or freezer. Denmark also makes use of this by taking Iceland on his frequent fishing trips. It is a conscious decision that takes effort though, so it's very easy to control.
Iceland also has the standard ability to freeze and ignite things. He had no control over this as a child. Any strong emotions he felt would trigger it. Norway was the one who eventually helped Iceland learn how to deal with it.
This power is much harder to control in general. Even now, Iceland has slip ups. It's heavily influenced by his emotional state. Thankfully the fire responds more to positive emotions like excitement while the ice responds to the negative emotions. Iceland has accidentally lit things on fire before and it's not exactly a great time. It's a huge part of the reason he suppresses his emotions (or tries to) to stop himself from causing problems.
Even if he makes the conscious decision to drop his body temperature extremely low, it won't stop ignition. He's tried, but it doesn't work and it's super painful. He can't freeze and burn something at the same time.
Now that these are out of the way, these two also have traits that while not too magical are still very superhuman.
Iceland has very sensitive hearing. He also has selective hearing, so he can choose to tune out someone who's talking directly to him in favour of listening to what's happening in the next room over. This is also a conscious decision that requires effort.
Norway's intuition is scary good. He can instantly tell when something or someone feels off. Iceland has learned to trust Norway's gut feeling at all times because it has always been accurate.
These are the only two I have on the fly, but there are more.
There are also the powers they share.
They can both breathe just fine underwater. Iceland's vision is actually a little better underwater.
They're both incredibly strong swimmers. This one could fall under the last category, but I'm putting it here. It's not in any way human. They could swim from Norway to Iceland in half a day. They'd be absolutely exhausted no doubt, but it's something they can accomplish.
Here are a few downsides to their natural powers before we get into anything else.
The more worried Norway is about projecting unpleasant thoughts, the more likely it is to happen and it scares the shit out of him. It works a lot like with intrusive thoughts. The more he tries to force it to stop, the more it happens. He has avoided people because of this in the past.
Because of the very volatile nature of Iceland's powers it's very easy for a very devastating cycle to occur. Something bad happens to Iceland, Iceland freezes over everything and is too miserable to unfreeze it which causes him to be even more miserable and so on and so forth until he finally calms down, usually with the help of Norway.
Now, there are powers that they eventually acquired.
Norway has definitely learned more about his magic and is very good with a lot of it. He prefers making magical remedies to spell casting, though he uses both liberally.
Iceland only learns what he needs in the moment. That's how he gave Mr. Puffin the ability to speak human language. He was able to communicate with him before. Mr. Puffin was very interested by Iceland in the start, so he (in a move very reminiscent of meowth from team rocket) learned how to speak through observation, just so he can get Iceland to keep him. It was very broken and it seemed only Iceland could understand what he was trying to communicate, so he eventually gave Mr. Puffin the ability to properly communicate.
When it comes to the magical creatures, Iceland doesn't interact with them all that much. He feels that Norway can get away with being all mysterious and talking to creatures that no one else sees, but he can't. His reasoning? Everyone is already impressed by Norway. Norway is known as this super mystical guy while Iceland would look absolutely crazy.
Iceland doesn't ignore the creatures though. He really respects them and if they were to speak to him directly, he'd respond regardless of who's watching. Specifically Norway's troll has taken a liking to Iceland and watches over him whenever he can.
That's all I can think of at the moment. I can update this later, but that's all for now. Thanks for letting me yap about my children again.
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venturethighs · 15 days ago
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Day Seventeen: Fucking Machine w/ Antiven
AFAB!Reader with an AMAB!Venture– aka the usual!
No warnings, other than reader has to use the safe word. Everything is consensual and is safe to read! Written in head canon format.
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♡ "I promise that it won't be too intense for you."
♡ You weren't sure how much you believed them. After the incident with the expansion toys, your bets were off the table.
♡ They secure everything behind you– and were kind enough to give you a few pillows to rest on in case it got too intense.
♡ "Hm. Both holes?" They think aloud to themself.
♡ "Oh God–" You mumble under your breath. Yet, they can still hear it. They let out a laugh when they do.
♡ "Alright, alright! One hole this time. You choose." They smile.
♡ "Mm– surprise me." You smile back.
♡ So they do.
♡ You watch them maneuver around your nude form and grab the lube from the nightstand drawer, applying a liberal amount to their fingers. They kneel down to tend to you further.
♡ They tease your first entrance with a finger and curl it inside, hitting that spot inside you near instantly. They have such a knack for finding it, and they give you a couple more taps before pulling out entirely.
♡ You let out a needy sigh as you grow wetter by the second.
♡ "Relax, mi tesoro. I'll take good care of you." They reassure you.
♡ Their fingers once again prod around your entrance before slipping inside, and fully surprise you as another one pokes against the other side.
♡ They take a minute more to tease you, watching your face light up with pleasure before removing themself once more.
♡ They align the toy at your second entrance and rustle around inside the nightstand drawer one last time to pull out a mini wand they had charged earlier.
♡ "Ready?" They ask, smacking the side of your ass with a grin.
♡ "Mm– ready–" You bite your lower lip in anticipation.
♡ There was little time to prepare for the rough and rhythmic sensation instantly pounding into you from behind– and you could only whine as you're caught completely off guard by the sheer force of it.
♡ Then, as if that already wasn't a shock to the system, they press the wand firmly between your slick folds and hold it there for a few seconds before manipulating it in tight circles against your pulsating core.
♡ Your face heats up– partially from the pleasure, maybe a tad bit from embarrassment by being put in your place by machines.
♡ Yet, it feels like heaven, so you're not complaining.
♡ Your walls spasm around the silicone like crazy, feeling your arms grow weak as you continue leveraging yourself just barely.
♡ "You're doing so good! It's only on the lowest setting, though. Think you can handle more?" They ask, fully knowing they don't care for your answer.
♡ They turn up the speed and intensity and your eyes widen in excitement, drool forming at the edge of your mouth as your brain melts like ice.
♡ "Your brain cells are leaking everywhere!" They joke. "I'm sure Sloan will enjoy that cute face."
♡ You pant as they turn the vibrator up a notch next, holding it firmly against your sopping wet center as your hole is crammed full without remorse.
♡ Your legs visibly shake as you slowly adjust to this new setting. You're terrified the neighbors might hear all the noises you're making.
♡ Though, not many people are brave enough to confront Antiven of all people– so they'd best not be having any complaints, especially if you're within the vicinity.
♡ "Why don't you look into the camera, hm?" They nudge you mockingly.
♡ You glance up at their phone, recording every moment as your delight unfolds.
♡ Then, they turn both toys up to maximum level. Your arms shake as you collapse into the pillows underneath you, the only small bit of comfort you're allowed in this moment.
♡ You yell your lungs out into the fluff and fabric as the orgasmic sensation inside your hips spirals further out of your control.
♡ "Poor [Y/N], too bad you're enjoying the torture." A wicked smile crosses their equally sadistic expression.
♡ Your hands grasp at the softness underneath you as you're ruthlessly rammed into by cold, metallic machinery combined with the most intense vibration encircling your sensitive core.
♡ "How humiliating is it that you're going to come so hard from this?" They berate you further. "You truly have no shame, do you?"
♡ You feel their degradation stirring in the liquified remains of your mind. It saturates you heavily– the vibrator now wet with your juices.
♡ "Whatever gets those holes stuffed full, right?" They continue their one sided conversation.
♡ Your senses become dull as you crawl further and further towards the edge you so desperately sought, clamping down hard as the machine aggressively rails you into the ground.
♡ "I'm afraid you've gone stupid, my sweetest [Y/N]. Maybe that's my fault though." They chuckle. "Are you ready to come the hardest you ever have in your life?"
♡ Heavy pants leave your saliva ridden mouth as your eyes disappear into the back of your skull. The loudest, longest moans you've ever made are ringing out against the walls of their apartment.
♡ Every swirl of their wand combined with the brutal thrusting of the toy forces you over the edge so fast and so hard that you're practically seeing stars– and in the brief moment of overstimulation, the safe word you established with them beforehand stumbles from your drooling lips.
♡ Everything stops on a dime.
♡ You collapse against the warm, soaking wet pillows and catch your breath.
♡ "[Y/N]– mi vida– are you okay? Do you want me to hold you?" Their voice had gone from stone cold to saccharine sweet like a light switch.
♡ You nod. They pick your limp body off the ground and place you atop the bed, hugging you close and nuzzling your face affectionately.
♡ "I'm so sorry–" They're cut off.
♡ "Don't be. It was nice!" You reassure them. "Maybe... just... a little less intense next time."
♡ "Alright. I promise it won't go that high ever again." They reply. "Let's get you a nice bath so you can get cleaned up!"
♡ You nod one more time, watching them run off to draw you bath.
♡ All the while, Sloan stirs from their sleep. "I swear to God–"
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maple-the-awesome · 25 days ago
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We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 35
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader
Words: 5,280
Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.
Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: BOILING POINT
The room's relatively quiet, which has pretty much been the case ever since your latest fiasco of a mission. It isn't exactly a 'peaceful' silence, but you're willing to take what you can get while dealing with this annoying throbbing throughout your entire body and the stinging pain that’s focused around your center.
"At least I can cross breaking a rib off the bucket list."
"Not a fun feeling, huh?"
"God no," You groan, leaning back only to instantly regret doing so as shown through a sharp flinch. Sam's smile shows a mix of sympathy and amusement before he passes you a couple of pain pills as well as a glass of water. You're quick to set down your ice pack in exchange for these items, gratefully swallowing the pills in hopes that they’ll offer some relief…Unfortunately, there's no immediate effect.
You’re left with no other choice than to miserably do your best getting comfy against the stiff pillows of Zemo’s incredibly uncomfortable couch, your only other option for a distraction being to simply let your thoughts roam to topics unrelated to your searing injuries. There’s lots to review regarding the last hour anyway.
Talking to Karli was a total bust thanks to Captain Cosplay who couldn’t even help prevent her escape afterwards. By now, she’s undoubtedly gone to regroup with her terrorist buddies, bringing along even more reason for them to hate Avengers and even less reason to spare any of you an ear again.
To top off such a failure of a mission, while that section of your plans was going to shit, Zemo apparently took it upon himself to destroy the super soldier serum Karli had been carrying on her person. You suppose that might as well be a good thing considering no more stray vials means no more unwarranted superhumans running amok, however it doesn't quite sit right with you knowing how easily your rent-a-felon had slipped away from watch. He could've made a run for it, and or caused greater harm to the mission as a whole by taking matters further into his own hands which wouldn't have been too out of character given his track record with super soldiers so far.
That's precisely why you told Bucky to keep an eye on him! You were already going after John, and someone needed to stay with Zemo, so it should’ve been him. If he had just listened, you guys would've been able to maintain control of at least that variable - one less idiot to check over your shoulder for. Instead, he insisted on following you then concerned himself with your wellbeing, worried for your sake as if you're a glass doll who took a tumble off a shelf.
…Granted, in the eyes of a superhuman, that’s probably a fitting comparison for what actually happened. Karli succeeded in really knocking the air from your lungs (and most of the sense right out of your head). By the time you finally came to again, the world was spinning in muddled colors orchestrated by constant ringing in your ears, yet you were still somehow aware enough to recall Bucky scooping you up into his arms.
Between those long blinks where your eyes struggled to remain open, you could see the stunned fear woven into his expression. It’s not quite like anything you’ve seen on him before - similar, but not exactly a match even to his troubled stare during the war or his distressed cries in Romania.
You wish you could say he’s relaxed since reaching the safehouse, however his head continues to hang low. Muscles tense and breath jagged, he stands at the bar counter with a glass of vodka in hand - an empty one, since he had just chugged his third round as if a mere shot of pure H2O…He’s still having a hard time snapping out of whatever trance your injury inflicted upon him, failing to steady his nerves no matter how much alcohol he tries to drown himself in; you aren’t the only one to notice.
“Why not try some peppermint tea? It’s an excellent choice for calming anxi -”
“- Fuck off…” Bucky growls in swift response to Zemo’s suggestion, his metal grip constricting against the glass resulting in a sharp ‘squeak’. Any tighter and it’ll shatter into starry shards.
“It’s only a couple of broken ribs and some bruising. Nothing that won’t heal -” That’s the third time Sam has said this. Once when he first assessed you, a second as you finally became coherent again…although both evaluations were less for your sake and more for Bucky’s.
Your little injury seems to have really bothered him, that much is obvious. Strange, for someone who sure hasn’t wanted to address your existence lately - who has taken almost every possible chance to push you away and make you feel unwanted - but hey, maybe it should be taken as a good sign since it must mean he still cares about you to at least some extent.
So - the question remains - why keep playing these stupid games then? What motivation could Bucky possibly have? Is he trying to be angry with you? Have you upset him to the point that he’d rather force himself to hate you than forgive you? …Hopefully that isn’t the case.
‘This whole situation is a mess…’ You think, sighing as you throw your arm over your eyes to block out the light and echo out the hostile energy practically flooding this room.
Something about Steve’s shield; an ongoing source of tension between all involved, yet you have no interest in picking sides right now. Instead, you’d much rather try sleeping, the exhaustion of today weighing heavy on your bones (not to mention your patience wearing extremely thin). You might’ve actually been able to drift off, too, if not for the loud ‘SLAM’ that startles nearly all of you.
The heavy doors are thrown open, leaving way for your least favorite cosplayer to march into the room while on a clear mission to make matters even worse than he already has, "Alright, let's go! I'm ordering you to hand him over!”
"...Fantastic..." You can't help rolling your eyes. There goes your chance at recovering in peace and quiet. What has it been? An hour since you've gotten back here? Probably less. Your medicine was just beginning to kick in, too! Now, you’re forced to bear through the numb ache of both your broken rib and incoming headache as you lazily watch Sam stand to 'greet' John Walker's presence.
"Hey slow your roll. Let's be clear: shield or no shield, the only thing you're running around here is your mouth," Clearly losing his own patience with the current situation, Sam packs some bite to his words, not caring if they don't sit right with John who fails to suppress a scowl, "I had Karli - She was willing to listen until you overstepped. As for Zemo, he's actually proven himself useful today and we're going to need all hands on deck for what's coming next -"
"- How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam? Huh?" John wears a cocky smirk, apparently mistaking Sam's silence as being stunned astonishment, not dumbstruck bemusement, "Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?"
He's doing his best to appear big and strong behind his threat, but he's the only one to take it seriously. Even Sam - who's usually the better of your group when it comes to maintaining peace by deescalating high tensions - scoffs at John's ridiculous assessment of himself being a 'challenge' for anyone.
Oh, what you'd give for Steve to be here so that he could show this guy how a real captain throws a punch, even if just to put the truth into perspective. If only John would realize how different he is from the real thing. Steve knew he didn't have to prove himself to anyone, he simply had to stand up for what's right. Even before he was a super soldier, that kid from Brooklyn knew the real meaning behind the shield, something you doubt John will ever understand, at least not at this rate, which is exactly why he shouldn't be carrying it.
Honestly, you had no real intentions of getting involved in this either. You weren't even going to roll yourself off the couch. You would've been perfectly content watching Sam kick Fraud's ass while casually draped across it like a professional cat, but almost the second that shield gets set down, a spear is wedged into the pillar mere inches away from John's face, causing all eyes to dart over to the dora milaje warrior standing at the other end of the room where she had previously gone unnoticed.
Before anyone can address her properly, two more dora milaje warriors march into the room from the hall. They speak in Wakandian, the content of their conversation being unknown to you, however you can assume it's nothing pleasant based on their stoney expressions and fierce tones, both fixated on Zemo and Bucky who appear less than thrilled. If anything, they look scared.
"Release him to us now," confirms the obvious regarding what this is all about.
"Hi,John Walker, Captain America,” Blind to the atmosphere around him, John all too casually approaches the women who meet his introduction with some pretty bombastic side eyes in return, “Tell you what, let’s go ahead and put down the pointy sticks and talk this through, huh? We're kinda in the middle of -"
"- John," Sam interjects, at first with an amused smile, except it’s quick to turn serious, probably after he realizes where this crossroad is likely to head, “Listen, you might want to fight Bucky before you test your luck with the dora milaje.”
John simply turns his back on Sam’s advice, giving a smug sneer towards the women in question, “The dora milaje don’t have jurisdiction here -”
“- The dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever the dora milaje find. themselves. to be…” One warrior bites back almost instantly, drawing out those last few words with venomous intent, although her expression hardly changes as she skillfully keeps her cool better than any of you would if John ever dared to step so close.
For a moment there - however short - it seems that a threat has actually put him in check for once, forcing him to shut his mouth as he appears to do some sort of double-take. A quick, almost embarrassed glance back at the rest of you, followed by an equally awkward laugh, divides that temporary silence with John’s next response which he pairs with an outstretched hand that lands on the dora milaje’s shoulder, “...Look, I think we got off on the wrong -”
Showing much less patience towards John’s audacity than the rest of you, the women attack in an instant, knocking him off his feet face first onto the floor. The three dora milaje then surrounded him and Lemar, the latter of whom’s only mistake was taking a step towards the fight which sealed his fate of being choked back with a spear.
“We should do something,” You hear Sam say, forever the kind and considerate spirit. That’s much more than you can say about yourself. Rather than stand up to at least mock concern over the situation happening mere feet in front of you, you simply rest your head lazily against the back of the couch while watching everything unfold with no more interest shown than you would towards a lackluster movie.
“They’ll figure it out…” You decide stubbornly, nonchalantly shifting your legs to avoid any contact with Lemar when he’s thrown into the seat just adjacent to you.
“Looking strong, John!” Even Bucky seems to indirectly agree with you that this situation isn’t yours to fix up, that is initially, at least, until Sam gives you both looks of disapproval.
While it’s nothing that fazes yourself - after all Sam must realize you’d be little help in a battle of physical strength - it’s apparently enough to convince Bucky to join the chaos, too, probably less so to ‘help’ the other boys and more so to prevent this show from turning into an actual blood bath.
Unfortunately for them, they don’t fare much better than the other gentleman involved. If anything, they merely split the dora milaje’s wrath, each taking a half for themselves in the form of swung spears and stinging blows which makes you all the more sure of your decision to sit this one out.
Could you have simply sat here watching things unfold with an imaginary bag of popcorn? Of course, but a grumbled roll of your eyes just happened to land your attention on the opposite side of the room and, more importantly, on Zemo. For a moment, you were so entertained by watching John Walker be slammed against a table that you nearly forgot about your other nuisance. Such a shame.
Zemo takes full advantage of the unplanned distraction tearing apart his fancy parlor, slipping past the fight through the shadows with an unbothered stride that gains no urgency even when you show your notice of him:
“HEY!” Sitting up all too quickly, you wince at the sharp pain that stabs throughout your body, yet do your best to power through it while rushing to your feet and chasing Zemo’s direction.
Eitherhe doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough to give you any concern - you’re willing to bet it’s the latter as he steps into the bathroom and pulls the twins doors shut behind himself, far nicer than when you toss them back open again.
Empty. The bathroom is empty by the time you step fully inside, furiously looking around for the escapee who vanished like some kind of annoying magician. There’s no way he got so lucky as to find his golden ticket and cash it that quickly. That bastard was planning his getaway for god knows how long. All he needed was a moment like this when his guards were distracted.
“Damn it!” You curse aloud, wanting to use much more vulgar words, however they’re caught upon your tongue when you turn just in time to see one of the dora milaje warriors approaching.
Flinching, you’ll admit you half expect to experience her anger for yourself. One glance behind her leads way to your defeated comrades - Sam against the floor and couch rubbing his face while Bucky stands dumbfounded with his metal arm dropped from its socket - yet the Wakandan only passes you by calmly, peering into the bathroom to see the bad news for herself.
“He’s gone,” Although she refrains from losing her tongue, the venom in her tone shows she’s about as impressed as you are with Zemo’s absences. Marching past with no regard to you nor the way you back away, she casually leaves the room as if she and her friends hadn’t just kicked the sense out of almost everyone inside, her only word of departure being directed towards one of her fellow warriors who holds John’s shield in triumph, “Leave it.”
The other woman looks disappointed, but voices no argument as they leave together.
As soon as they're gone, you make your way over to the result of their fury, your first stop being to help Sam up off the floor which he gives a quick ‘thanks’ for, however your attention is hardly on him. Instead, your eyes remain concerned with Bucky across the way.
“What happened?” You ask, not dismissing the way his hand trembles slightly while reaching to pick up his metal arm from the ground. How it became detached so cleanly in battle…Well, it must’ve taken some skill. You’ve only ever seen him remove it once or twice for cleaning, something he struggled with both times. Then again, you suppose it would make sense for the Wakandans to know the work-arounds of their own creation.
Clearly, there’s a storm of thoughts brewing in Bucky’s mind, that much being certain based on his distant stare as he reconnects his arm back into its socket. Nevertheless, he fails to answer your question, leaving that task to Sam who apparently misses the implied context.
“We got our asses handed to us, that’s what,” He grumbles bitterly, still sourly rubbing the mark upon his cheek. It probably stings and is likely to bruise.
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of further bad news, but Zemo got away.”
He scoffs, “I heard. Of course he did…”
“‘Can’t imagine he’ll get far with the dora milaje on his tail. Either way, I doubt we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon - not that I’ll lose sleep over that tonight…Are you both okay at least? In a ‘recoverable’ sense, that is?” Once again, your eyes give away who you’re truly worried about and, once again, you receive no answer from who you wish to hear it from most.
“I think you should probably ask that to John,” Sam sighs. Initially, you aren’t too sure if he’s joking or serious. Going off his words, it’s a joke. Expression? He might really mean it. …And John’s expression?
The defeated soldier looks to be in a similar boat to Bucky in terms of internal dilemma. Even as Lemar offers a hand, John continues to kneel against the ground in dazed silence only interrupted by a quashed mumble, “They weren’t even super soldiers…”
He stalls for a moment before finally snapping out of it enough to take Lemar’s hand, lifting himself off the ground then swiftly masking his shock with a glare aimed towards the rest of you. No more words are said on his end - nothing verbal, that is. His eyes say everything they need to, expressing all that they need to about his embarrassment and anger…Maybe that battle wasn’t the reality check you thought he needed after all. Maybe just the opposite…
Running a hand through your hair, you glance around the room in total loss. Wakanda’s pissed. Zemo’s gone. John’s unstable. And to think your day couldn’t have gotten any worse…If you were on your own, this would be about the point where you’d be screaming into a pillow to release all your pent up anger, but now isn’t the time to lose your cool. You have to keep it together.
Sam mentions something else about the Zemo part of this situation, yet you fail to hear out his thought process. Your focus is solely stuck to Bucky who doesn’t stick around himself, having turned his back almost as soon as he could probably sense you were about to address him again.
Dragging a hand over his face, he marches off to destination you originally assumed would be the bathroom Zemo disappeared in, perhaps to begin tracing the baron’s path to recapture him - which might’ve been what Sam was trying to suggest you all do next - however Bucky walks directly past the bathroom and down the hall instead.
Carelessly smacking open the guest room door, he wanders inside where his limited belongings await mostly untouched upon the bed, never unpacked from his duffle bag. Taking a deep, labored breath, he tries to cease any thoughts about today as a whole, desperately pushing them back behind the dam that’s barely holding his sanity together…but the pressure is building.
First he let you get injured and now Ayo hates him? Is he just destined to keep hurting everyone around him, no matter what he does to avoid it? Even without the Winter Soldier to haunt his mind, his life is still cursed with conflict and danger. HYDRA, Thanos, the Flag Smashers…Will it never stop? Will he ever be able to rest without worry or blame?
“- James…?” The door was already practically open, yet you still peek out from around it, ever so gently pushing it outwards as you step into the room with a frown upon your face, "...What about you? Are you okay?"
"...Fine..."
Despite that being his answer, you still hesitate there in the doorway. You can’t just walk away - doing so wouldn’t feel right. Sure, he’s been an asshole lately and you’d have every right to disregard him, but…Well, today’s been rough for everyone, especially him. You’ve already seen how your injury bothered him on a level he refuses to admit, then for the dora milaje to show up - more importantly, for Ayo, someone he admires and considers himself to be in great debt to…
“It’s only natural for Wakanda to be upset with what we’re doing here. Zemo killed their King, after all,” You speak up against the silence, trying to sound neutral as if you’re simply stating a fact and not trying to offer any comfort, “Of course they’re not going to like that we’re working with him for any reason, much less that we broke him out of prison to do so, but it’s not like you -”
“- What part of ‘fine’ don’t you get?”
You’re left gaping at his snapped tone, frozen for a split second or two after he turns over his shoulder to glare at you…Then your own anger starts to swell faster than you can bite it back, “Maybe the part where you still look pissy as all hell. Seriously, what’s your problem? I’m only trying to make sure you’re okay. You -”
- You take a deep breath, even closing your eyes for a second to gather your thoughts. This isn’t the time to lose patience. You must keep it together. Distance - If you have any hope in your relationship getting better, you need to give him distance, and you will, but you also can’t just turn a blind eye to him while he’s struggling. Dancing around the issue isn’t helping anyone at this rate. You want to talk things out first - You need to address the problem then go from there, wherever it may lead.
Letting go of your breath, you don’t mask your concern this time, “...You’re clearly not okay, James. These last few months have been a shit-show, I get that. Thanos, losing Steve, this whole mess with the Flag Smashers…Me…”
He flinches and swiftly looks away.
“It’s been too much. I’m starting to realize that. We’re all stressed and angry and - …Listen, James. I - …I was wrong to keep secrets from you, especially one as big as me being Hollie. I’ll admit that, but you have to try to understand where I was coming from. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I knew it was going to be a lot and hard to believe so I wanted to wait for a good time…It’s not like it’s exactly easy telling people I used to be someone else a half-century ago…”
You run a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh, “I realize I put it off for far too long, and I really can’t say sorry enough for that, but as wrong as it was for me to keep the truth from you, I still don’t understand why such a secret would warrant you treating me like this. We…We used to be so close. We were close, and then you cut me out just likethat…Why?”
Bucky clenches his fist, forcing himself not to so much as glance back at you. He’d be in trouble if he did that. It’s much easy to keep his back turned while willing himself to remain calm despite the bite that presents itself in his words, “I don’t want to talk about it right n -”
“- No!” You quite literally put your foot down, narrowing your eyes at him, “We need to talk about it now. You can’t keep shutting down on me, Bucky. We’ve been avoiding this conversation for too long already. I thought everything would sort itself out if I gave you some time to think, but clearly that’s only making matters worse for both of us. I…I need to know. I need you to know.
“Bucky, I have loved you ever since I could remember who I used to be. Every second we’ve spent together - Everything I’ve done and said - It was never an act, it’s always been me. I need you to understand that. I feel no different for you now than I did when I was named Hollie. I’ve only ever wanted to see you be happy and doing well - that’s my ultimate goal. While I’d like you to be that way with me - while I’d like to be happy together, if you don’t -...If you don’t see me as her then…”
You look down, uncomfortably fiddling with your hands as you fight to keep your voice steady. Still, you can’t ignore the sting of tears in your eyes, “...It’s fine, it’s whatever. We don’t have to be anything special - Hell, we don’t even have to maintain contact ever again if that’s what you truly want, but at the very least, can’t you still treat me like an actual human being whenever the world forces us to interact? Can’t we be civil? I mean, you’ve been nicer to Zemo than you have been to me lately. It’s like you hate me all of the sudden…Is that it?”
“No -” For once, an answer is delivered without any initial hesitation. It must have been impulsive - a powerful reaction caused by hearing that slight peak to your voice. It causes Bucky to finally spin around and face you, yet that single word is quickly followed by regret once he shies away with a heavy sigh, “...No, I don’t hate you…”
“Then why? Please just tell me so that I can fix things.”
This conversation is dragging on for a dangerous length of time. Even with how little he’s engaged, there’s a voice inside Bucky’s head warning him that it’s been too much. The further this extends, the faster his heart races and the heavier his thoughts weigh…The damage your words do against his shield are deadly, yet he stubbornly refuses to give in. He already made his decision long ago. He can’t become weak against it now.
“There’s nothing to fix -” Attempting to put an end to this discussion, he tries to distract himself with his belongings. It’s a hopeless game of pretend as he shifts through his bag with no real motivation beyond acting busy - an act that doesn’t fool you.
“- Clearly there is,” You huff, taking a step further, arms now crossed, “You wouldn’t be acting like this if everything was just fine and dandy.”
“Just -!” He catches himself, suffocating his growing frustration through a quick inhale, “…Drop it, alright? I already said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You never want to talk about it!” You accuse, a hand now falling to your hip, “Why are you acting like my presence is suddenly killing you?”
Slamming his hands against his bag, he spins towards you with a flare temper of his own…So much for keeping it managed, “Why? Because I never asked you to come here! I never wanted you to get involved!”
“In what?”
Shaking his head, he blatantly ignores you aside from a scoff. Tugging at his hair, he finds himself cursing your stubbornness. As bad as it had made him feel, at least you stormed off in Madripoor by this point. You gave up before he had to risk saying anything too close to the truth, however you’re more determined than ever to push for it now. Why can’t you just see that he’s trying to do what’s best for you here?
Instead of even considering something as silly as that, you use your built up anger as fuel for pursuing an answer. No longer are you willing to accept silence or gruff remarks. No longer do you care if you can see Bucky getting visibly distraught with every poke and prod. You deserve an answer this time.
“Involved in WHAT, James!? With this mission? Because believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m here because I consider myself responsible for the super soldier serum -”
“- IN EVERYTHING! I NEVER ASKED YOU TO BE INVOLVED IN ANYTHING!” Bucky suddenly shouts over you, his voice cracking in a way neither of you have heard before. Even through the tears, he swears all he can see when looking at your stunned silence is a reflection of Hollie frowning back at him. You don’t even look alike anymore, yet there’s something about your expression - maybe the bitten frown or heartbroken shine of your eyes - that makes you look so much like her. Too much like her…
Why did you have to come back, dammit it?! Hasn’t he been tortured with his past enough? Why be tempted with you now? You didn’t have to come find him the way you did. You could have gone on with your new life, enjoying all the wonders it has to offer for someone so bright and gifted - all the wonders he stole away from you in the past. Now he’s constantly keeping track of the seconds until he dooms you again - until the nightmare becomes another reality once you’re no longer lucky enough to push yourself back up with only a few broken ribs. He’s already killed Holiday Stark. How long until he gets (Y/n) (L/n) killed, too?
Tearfully, you shake your head. You wish you could do more than that. You want to be angrier or at the very least unfazed so that you can at least pretend none of this bothers you the way it does, but you don't have the spirit; it's been successfully crushed under the weight of Bucky's words and your own heartache.
"...Then I won't be…" You know your whispered voice cracks all the same, and you know your hand is trembling when you reach for its opposite, struggling more than it probably should to wiggle the silver ring off your finger which you then let fall to the floor as if it would've been too hot to hold. From there, you barely even wait to hear the 'clink' that it makes against the tile, already having your back turned as you practically throw the door open without any regard to how it slams against the adjacent dresser.
In a blind hurry, you brush past Sam who looks like a stunned deer caught on a highway. You echo out his fumbled attempts at calming you down because if you could give him words right now, you’d tell him that you're far past the point of 'calming down'. You're officially on autopilot mode as you hastily gather your belongings from your own room.
Tossing everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder, you retrace half of your last steps, this time finding both Sam and Bucky together in the hall. One looks annoyed like a parent who just wanted a nice night out, the other guilty like a kicked dog; both wary as you pass on by. Any other day, it might've fed your ego to see their fear. If you had some heart left, you'd aim a joke towards it, but not today.
"Wait - Where are you going?" Sam calls, and you think it overshadows Bucky's weak attempt at calling your name.
"Home. I'm done with this shit!”
Sam's attention is immediately whipped to Bucky with a hiss, “What did you do?!”
The question has little to no effect, not because it doesn’t matter, but because it’s already being considered, stirring the sour emotions bubbling in Bucky’s mind. The guilt was always expected, however its exact force was miscalculated. This is what he wanted, isn't it? He wanted to push you away - to keep you as far from him as possible where you’ll be safest…and yet he doesn’t feel accomplished in the slightest.
Glancing back through the open door of his room, Bucky’s eyes become watery once they land on the abandoned wedding ring that sinfully glows in the light of the window.
…He’s really done it now…
NEXT CHAPTER {coming soon}
<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER
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dreadsuitsamus · 2 years ago
Text
Lost Part Three | Vegeta x Reader |
part one | part two | part four | part five | part six
author's note: sorry for the wait! i had a hard time getting a good flow with this chapter, and am not very satisfied with what i have here, unfortunately. i hope that for part 4 i will feel better about my writing, and that you all will as well
pairing: vegeta x fem!reader
warnings: canon-typical violence, ignore the canon timeline of events
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Vegeta's ears ring, sounding as if he'd gone underwater when he hears Bulma yelling for his attention. He doesn't look for her, still locked onto that deadly serious look in your eye that's piercing his soul. He sees your sadness deep inside, how crushed you are to have to tell him of his son's betrayal. He feels like his stomach has dropped out of his body and his skin pales, knees giving out underneath him and sending him to the ground. He blinks slowly and looks in the fire, swearing he can see the image of his young son in the flames; the picture flickers back and forth from the strong young man he'd idealized, and then a more grimy, hateful man that barely resembles his oldest child.
"No… It… Can't be." Vegeta closes his eyes, determined not to cry in front of Kakarot and Bulma. This isn't their business, and he's getting angry with the way Bulma's pushing and prodding at him for answers. Her voice, shrieking and irritating, demanding things left and right without a care for what he's gone through since you came back into his life, strikes a particular nerve and his head throbs with every syllable she screeches.
"Vegeta!" She yells from the helicopter, luckily unable to land in the forest, else she'd be even closer to his migraine. "You scumbag, you haven't told me a damn thing! First you're married and now you have a-"
"Shut UP!"
Vegeta's eyes widen when he hears your voice. Your tails whips angrily and you've clenched your fists tightly, flying right up into Bulma's face. His hands grip into his sides, his stomach threatening to empty out the moment he tries following you to place himself in front of her. "No… Don't… Don't hurt her!"
You ignore Vegeta's weak plea, looking the woman that's stolen your husband directly in her eyes. "If you shriek one more time, I'll kill you." You growl.
A small hand slips into yours, and you nearly snap your neck when you feel it, seeing Gohan's concerned face looking up at you. Immediately you're subdued, having a soft spot for that young boy, your face falling; you've stepped out of line now.  You allow him to lead you away from Bulma, from the scene entirely, despite your rage and desire to be close to Vegeta.
Bulma's eyes are wide, her heart racing and veins ice-cold from your threat. You'd seemed so kind before your memories returned; and now, you've become a savage. She eyes Vegeta, noticing the haunted look in his eye as he stares down the fire. He hadn't budged a bit, not even after you threatened her life.
"I… Think you should take Chi-Chi and Trunks home." Goku says carefully.
"Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to-!"
"Bulma!" Chi-Chi snaps. "Let's go. Goku, don't let her run off again. Bring her home."
Goku nods at his wife's order, following the direction you and Gohan left in. Bulma glares at her friend, but Chi-Chi doesn't back down to her. "It's not all about you, Bulma. Let's go."
Bulma huffs and turns the copter to go back to Capsule Corp, leaving Vegeta alone by that stream. The prince gazes into the fire again, seeing the image of the bastard that nearly killed you (His son!! How in the hell did it come to this?!) and he feels a fresh sheen of sweat on his face right before he loses the control on his stomach and vomits, coughing and spluttering once there's nothing left. The ground is cool and damp when he falls back onto it; all he can hear is the flow of water and the crackle of the fire before it all goes dark.
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Gohan's led you to a cliff, sitting beside you in comfortable silence. "My acceptance letter came in the mail."
You turn to look at him, the only light you've got in your life. "Yeah? Good; I'm proud of you, hon."
His smile lights your own eyes up. "You'll keep helping me study, right?"
"You'll keep your training up?" You smile gently at the boy. He's got the sweetness your son used to harbor, but you know his human side makes him pure, unlike your full-blooded Saiyan son.
"Deal!" Gohan throws his arms around you, and you hug him tightly. You feel tears building and you pull Gohan just a tad closer to you, thankful he's allowing the bruising hug.
"It's gonna be okay." Gohan whispers before Goku lands nearby. He kneels on your other side and gently puts his large, warm hand on your shoulder.
"Hey there." He smiles so, so softly at you. "Been a few days. Let's go home."
You blink. "I…?"
"Always."
You look back in the direction you and Gohan had come from. You feel your husband's power level, though it's muted. He's likely unconscious, never being able to take shock very well. Where you would grow angry or remain calm, he'd faint. The wind chills the tips of your ears and a shiver tears through you, making a mockery of your thin jeans and tank top, hot-blooded Saiyan be damned against the cold air.
"Alright, Kakarot."
Goku scrunches his nose. "Aww, now that you remember stuff, are you gonna call me that now?" His lips push out into a pout, and you can't help but laugh at the pitiful look on his face.
"It is your name." You hum, buzzing your lips thoughtfully. "But… if you prefer Goku-"
"I do! Very much!"
You nod, carefully gripping his gi. "Let's go home."
"I thought you'd never ask!" Goku picks up Gohan, tossing him atop his shoulder and grinning at the boy's laugh, pressing his calloused fingers to his forehead.
Warmth is the first thing you feel, and the first thing you hear is Chi-Chi. Your chest rumbles with your laughter, which only serves to make her angrier, but simply hugging her calms the energy. "I know." You murmur into her dark hair. Her arms around you are tighter than you expected, and her strength impresses you.
"Go shower; you smell like Vegeta." She mumbles, delicate hands settling on your waist for a brief moment as she pulls back.
Fighting back the urge to smirk (he's your mate, dammit) you simply do as she says. Your thoughts travel to your son, remembering his rage and intent to kill. Ever since you found out Vegeta had been alive the entire time… V had changed. Your son had warped into a resentful, vengeful Saiyan. You'd lost count the amount of times he'd accused you of lying to him, or hiding him from his father. It was all nonsensical dribble, but V believed every word- and having no idea where it had come from, you still gave him the truthful answers you'd given him since he was young; but it wasn't enough for him.
You'd fought your son several times in the last two years, but this was the closest he'd gotten to killing you. It was as if his control was slipping each time; even with the power boost after your near-death experience, you'd have to train hard to be strong enough to only subdue.
Only subdue.
I can't kill him… He's all I've got left.
"Is this all you've got, Mother?!" V screams at you, a spitting image of Vegeta's rage.
You swipe your thumb over your lip, finding blood on it that you're not entirely sure came from your lip. Each strike of V's is true, the bruises and cuts on your face all the proof needed. You've trained him well; too well.
"I suppose time-out isn't going to work anymore."
"I'm not a child!" He roars, flying at you with the intensity of an explosion behind the fist you suddenly find against your stomach. The air leaves your lungs, the feeling of something rupturing inside. You cough, a splatter of blood from your bitten cheek staining his shirt. V backs away, leaving you to drop to your knees, cradling your stomach as your empty lungs beg for air, burning harshly with the first breath you can take.
"V… " Your eyes land on the pod you'd stolen, crushed and sporting a massive hole from the charged attack your son launched at you. You don't know what planet you're on or where you're close to, but if you don't find a way to get out soon… You're as good as dead.
"It didn't have to be this way, Mother." His footsteps crunch on the solid ground, approaching you with his hand glowing yellow.
"It still doesn't have to." You growl, eyes flicking from V's boots to the pod he arrived in. "We can find your father together, V."
"We could've done that a long time ago, Mother! But you lied to me!"
Summoning the little strength that remains, you move your body right as his blast singes the ground, kicking his feet from under him and unleashing a flurry of punches to his face. Your heart's in a vice, beating in your only child's face like this. You just need to keep him down long enough to get away…
A final punch across his skull results in your son's loss of consciousness. Without preamble, you scramble to the pod to get the hell off this planet. You have no destination; as far away as you can get from V is the only specific you've got in mind.
I've got to find Vegeta…
There's an explosion after a handful of hours, and the next thing you know, you're staring at a face you've never seen before.
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It's well past midnight when Vegeta makes it back to Capsule Corps. Carefully trudging through to not wake anyone, Vegeta strips the second he's in the bathroom for a scorching shower. His body is covered in dirt and sweat, not to mention he smells like fish from the stream… Though no matter how intensely he scrubs his skin, despite how red and raw he's made it, he cannot make the feeling of dirt vanish.
He feels like a two-timing son of a bitch. To both you and Bulma. He was content with his involvement with her, whatever it was, living together and raising their child… Something he missed out on with his firstborn. And that was another matter entirely; he hadn't even thought to tell her about his previous life. How could he? His heart, forever wounded by the loss and tortured by each and every what-if couldn't possibly take retelling the tragedy. He held no shame for you, had no intentions on keeping secrets from Bulma…
Vegeta's head spins and he has to brace himself on the wall, lest he slip and wake up Bulma. She no doubt has room to be angry and feel betrayed, but good lord he can't take any yelling right now. Vegeta's mating scar burns, ripping a hiss from his tongue as he clutches onto it. His primal body yearns, begs for reunification with his mate. With you, his first love, wife, mate…
Mother of his child.
Vegeta presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, seeing stars in the blackness. What in the hell had happened for his son to nearly kill you? Though supposing he can't be a character witness for the boy, having last seen him as a baby who'd been out of his incubator for only a short time… It's possible his son was just… 
No. A son of mine would never be like that on his own.
And speaking of a son, he can hear the cries of his baby boy even with the noises of the water surrounding him. Vegeta suppresses a sigh and is quick out of the shower, hair dripping onto his shoulders while he shoves on a pair of sweatpants and carefully goes to tend to Trunks. Naturally, though, Bulma's already beat him there and has the baby in her arms, calmly shushing him through his wails.
Her eyes cross with Vegeta's for a split second, and a groan forms at the back of Vegeta's throat. She's hurt, no doubt by the secrets; and your threat on her life wasn't exactly helpful. "Bulma…" He begins carefully.
"Not right now." She murmurs sadly, bouncing Trunks into softer cries.
He steps closer to her, impossibly close but not touching. "Give me the boy, and get yourself some more rest."
Her cerulean eyes widen and she meets his, finding sincerity in them. She was surprised to even see him back here at all, knowing his affinity for running away all the time. And the possibility that he was just here for amenities she provides, which could still be the case, is lessened. "You…"
"He's my son." Vegeta mumbles finally, breaking eye contact with her to look at his little boy. His fingers twitch, too eager to hold him and cherish the moments he has available to him. "I want to hold my son."
Bulma pauses for a beat, gazing down at the young baby. Trunks has stopped his tears, staring openly at Vegeta with wonder and smiles at him, one of those chunky hands reaching out. Vegeta slips his hands around the baby and pulls him away from Bulma, holding him close to himself and sitting in the rocking chair, already working on lulling the boy to sleep.
"Get some rest, Bulma. I won't tell you a third time."
Her exhaustion outweighs her stubbornness and with light feet, she's out the door and comfortably back into her bed. Despite the odds of waking up alone, she fluffs the pillow on the left side and saves half of the blankets.
Vegeta stares outside for a while, rocking the chair and holding Trunks to his warm chest. "Trunks. I know you are young and won't remember this. You won't remember the way I treated your mother, or how I left you as a bastard for a time. You will never know how sorry I am… Or how grateful I feel to get the chance to be a father to you. Truth be told, I didn't plan for you to exist. I have a son from years past that I do not know. I don't even know what he looks like; the last time I saw him, he was around your age."
Trunks coos, blinking slowly and nuzzling Vegeta's bared chest. Vegeta finally looks down at him, swiping a hand over the purple bits of peach fuzz he's growing atop his head. "I have made a vow to myself to be present for you. I now make that same vow to you, my second son. I will be here for you; I will raise you as a strong warrior, and a good man. You will be better than me, I'll make sure of it. That's what children do; they surpass their parents. You will be no different. And so help me, if you try to kill your mother someday…" Vegeta pauses. His eyes are watery, he finds, as he blinks and feels the tears on his cheeks. "I will have failed yet another child, and you do not want to see what happens then. Be good, and be strong. That is all I ask of you, Trunks."
V, I will find you. And you will not be ready.
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When you wake, it's dark out. Your scar burns, but you ignore it in favor of getting up and dressing for a day of training; the best you can do is a t-shirt and leggings, unfortunately, as your Frieza Force armor was entirely destroyed beyond use and even recognition by V's assault.
"And where are you going?" Chi-Chi's in the kitchen checking the ribs in the slow-cooker when you pass through, and you sigh to yourself.
It's like my mother's alive.
"Just to train."
"For?" She narrows her eyes suspiciously.
"To fight my son again."
"You nearly died, but you want to fight again?" Chi-Chi shakes her head; you damn Saiyans give her headaches.
"My pride as a Saiyan won't allow me to run and hide. And as his mother, it's on me to put him in his place. I have to become stronger to do that without killing him. He, for some damn reason, thinks I've lied to him his entire life. Like if I didn't know my husband was alive, I wouldn't have scoured every planet, every star and rock until I found him again. It's nonsense, but I haven't been able to convince him otherwise."
Chi-Chi sighs. "You'll need a good training partner then."
"Would you mind allowing Goku to train with me?"
"Can you wear him out enough so he'll be too tired to eat as much for a change?"
Laughing, your shoulders shrug while you rub the back of your neck. "I can try, but that's kinda asking a lot, don't you think?"
"A woman can dream." Chi-Chi sighs wistfully, setting the top back onto the slow cooker and washing her hands. "He won't be up for a while longer, so you'll have to settle for me instead."
"Oh?" You perk a brow, a smile forming on your lips. "You're a fighter?"
"How do you think I handle Goku?" She teases back and leads you outside, tying her hair up in a quick, messy bun. The air out is crisp and the grass is wet with dew, a few stars still twinkling in the sky as the Earth makes its way to the sun.
Your stretches are done in mostly silence, various bones snapping and popping from each of your bodies. You sigh to yourself; twenty years old was farther away than you wanted to admit. Chi-Chi seems to be on a similar train of thought, as her brow twitches in a manner you've never quite seen before. But she looks pissed now, and if that gives you a good warmup, so be it.
A quick bow and a pause later, Chi-Chi's testing your speed with her rush down maneuvers, her hands flying and advancing on you in impressive fashion. "I… Actually have to focus." You growl, your hands meeting every strike of hers and deflecting them from your body.
"You didn't think I'd go easy on you, did you?"
"I was hoping not." You grin and go on the offensive, pushing Chi-Chi back and switching into swift kicks she can barely keep her eyes on. She stumbles back, soon pinned under your knee.
"I'm more rusty than I thought…" She accepts your offered hand, brushing the grass from her pants while you ready into a new stance.
Chi-Chi spars with you for the better part of an hour, to her credit. You're relentless, your Saiyan appetite something she's surely used to with Goku. You bounce from side to side, rolling your neck and shoulders out, a big, satisfied grin on your face. "Man, this is fun! Think you can go faster?"
Chi-Chi huffs, clutching her side. If she were ever worried about her weight, a few mornings with you would set things straight. "Absolutely not. I'm… Going to make breakfast."
"Aww… Okay. Eggs?"
"Sure, sure…" Chi-Chi slowly moves into the house, leaving you by your lonely. With a little sigh you sit on the grass to meditate as the sun rises. A calm breath soothes the eagerness for Goku to wake up and start the real training, your mind oddly quiet despite the things you've been through lately.
Training always has been the best way to clear a Saiyans mind.
You wipe the sweat from your brow, the dust from your surroundings clearing. You and Vegeta have both been tense; the mating season has just come to pass and you were yet to be with child. It's disappointing to the King to hear, but not any more than Vegeta's anger at the situation. He stands from his position, blue fabric of his standard issue armor torn in various places. "Are you done?"
"Am I dead?" You snark, pulling yourself off your knees and launching a hefty energy beam at him. Your husband dodges, though not without more of his suit burning up.
"Point taken." He snarls and flies at you with a fierce kick, your arm coming to block as your poor bones ache at the contact. His other leg kicks out at you and sends you off your balance and into the ground. You've come to the less developed portion of Planet Vegeta, the area more commonly used for training the military recruits. It's largely rock and clay, the reddened dust everywhere. You and your husband are cloaked in it, the dust practically becoming a second skin after the several hours you've trained.
Vegeta falls on top of you, his arms only barely catching the full force of his weight. He coughs at the dust in his lungs, his exposed shoulder and one of his legs covered in it. "This is unbecoming of royalty." He groans.
You sigh and spread your limbs out, resigned. But the training was effective; the failures of your bodies are far from your mind. "Why did we come out here… Filthy training grounds…"
"I have no idea." Vegeta mutters into the breast of your armor.
"Let's go home."
Vegeta's up at your soft command, picking you up in a gentle bridal carry to fly you back home. He's not affectionate out in public; his love is no doubt strong and unbreakable, as your bonded mate. But he doesn't enjoy others seeing him so soft for you, lest they get the wrong idea and assume weakness of him. But he holds you close to his body as he flies home, even once you've reached the castle courtyard, he continues carrying you. Servants, guards and even high-ranking officers are around to see Vegeta carrying you.
"'Geta-"
"Hush, princess."
You close your eyes and just let it happen, your feet hitting the floor once he's reached your bedchambers. A servant quickly draws a bath and Vegeta holds your hand when you step into the large tub, ensuring you're down safely before climbing in himself.
Your husband waves off the servants, leaving the two of you alone in your bath. His rippling, filthy muscles flex while he pours a small basin of water over himself. His dark hair falls to his shoulders, the look rather striking despite the oddity of seeing it. He gazes at you through his lashes. "You like what you see?"
"If I do?" Soapy water falls from your body with each pass of the cloth. "What'll you do about it?"
"Not a damn thing. Continue eye-fucking me at your leisure." He smirks and washes himself, his legs opening up as you wade through the suds and into his personal bubble. He follows your lips after an attempt to steal one from him, kissing you with the passion he always keeps close to his chest.
"Did you enjoy training today?"
"I always enjoy training with you. I regret we haven't kept up the old routine we used to have." Vegeta murmurs. Once your marriage was settled and you began trying to conceive, you were practically banned from any meaningful training. And it being all for naught so far was an added kick to the ribs.
"I do feel rejuvenated. Perhaps… We go back to it."
Vegeta's dark eyes meet with yours, contemplating the suggestion. The water around you is cooling, your fingers and toes pruned as you step out of the bath. Vegeta silently follows your lead to then drape one of your many robes over your shoulders. His hands linger in the close space between you, roaming over your arms. They've lost quite a bit of muscle, regrettably.
"I expect you to gain your form back." He murmurs. "You've gotten too thin for a warrior."
"Oh, I'll show you form." You grin mischievously, pushing him to the bed and pouncing.
You laugh softly at the memory. Sure enough you'd gotten your warrior body back proper, and the stresses of getting pregnant were less present on your mind as a result of the training; and as fate would have it, you'd fallen pregnant the very next mating season. Vegeta theorized your body knew how strong a child between the two of you would be, and refused a pregnancy until you'd returned to peak strength.
"Don't tell me you're tired!" Goku's voice is cheerful and you fly to your feet, hands glowing yellow.
"Why don't you come test that theory?"
Goku's eyes shine, a slow smirk spreading on those lips as he takes his stance, bent over with one hand curled before him and the other raised above his head. "I hope you know what you're in for!"
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Vegeta comes to in the rocking chair, Trunks long gone from his arms as the sun pierces the sky. He only panics a brief moment before his logical side catches up; Bulma's no doubt awake and with the baby.
He finds Bulma in the kitchen with Trunks, feeding him a spoonful of mashed carrots and failing to keep the boy's face clean, despite her best efforts. Trunks cheers at the sight of his father and subsequently knocks the baby food from his mother's hand; the glass shatters into a trillion little pieces, orange mush splattering any nearby surfaces.
"Eh?" Trunks follows the sound, looking over the side of his high chair. Bulma braces her head on the tray of the chair, her hair a wild mess and her pajamas wrinkled and covered in baby food Trunks had spat out.
Vegeta's chest fills, a terrible feeling lingering. What does he do about this? He's mated, connected to you through an invisible thread that cannot be severed. And how he's missed you, dreamt of you for years on end… Loves you still, with everything in his heart. You are his wife. His everything. His past, his lover, his best friend.
What does he do?? A lesser man would cast Bulma aside, and had this situation happened even just a year ago, he'd be that lesser man in an instant. She was only ever intended to be a one-time thing; he'd hit a moment of weakness, and her strong, abrasive personality caught him at just the right time.
She's perfect for any Saiyan male; it's not difficult to see how any of this happened. Bulma cared for Vegeta when everyone else wanted him dead. Food, a home, clothes on his back, her first child and her heart. She's given so much to him.
He is not worthy of either your love or Bulma's.
"I'll clean up." He murmurs, casting his gaze away from his second family and retrieving a new jar of baby food before the broom and dustpan.
Bulma's eyes shine with tears as she takes the jar from him; Vegeta opts to clean the glass up, rather than try to find any words for her. She sniffles and resumes feeding the baby, but finally finds her voice.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"They were dead." He murmurs.
"Well they're not. She threatened to kill me, Vegeta!"
Vegeta's eye twitches at her quickly souring tone, his temples already hurting. "And she didn't."
Bulma's jaw clenches. "I notice you didn't do anything about it; you left an eleven-year old to keep a savage bitch from-"
"Do not talk about her that way!" Vegeta seethes with pure rage in his eyes, throwing down the broom. His hair flicks gold once despite being able to control his Super Saiyan transformation. "That is my wife and she's been through a lot; a lot I wasn't there for! My son beat her so badly she lost her memories for months. You'll be just fine with a mere threat and not even a scratch to show for it."
"So you are going to leave! As if me and Trunks aren't your family too!"
"Leave Trunks out of this. Now is not the time for you to worry about relationships, if that is what you even call this. Not when V is out there, completely getting away with what he's done to his own mother. If you don't care about what I have on my plate then don't, but you will not sit there and spout nonsense. Do you understand me, Bulma?"
Bulma scowls, her eyes just as angry as Vegeta's. "Fine."
Vegeta hastily cleans the rest of the baby food mess and storms to get dressed; he can't afford to waste anymore time. He needs to find you and discuss a plan; he'll be damned if he lets V get away with this. You're capable of Super Saiyan, yet V still bested you; you'll need to train harder to kill him. You've bested Vegeta in the past, so he's not foolish enough to think his son will be easily beaten. He himself will train with you and become stronger together to face something more challenging than Frieza.
He's going to have to kill his own child.
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pop
"Where are we?" You look around to find only blue skies and the platform you stand on.
"The Lookout!" Goku grins. "Chi-Chi can't find us here…" He looks around regardless, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The last thing you saw before being brought here was a hole in the side of the house, courtesy of Goku himself.
"Hmm…" The hairs at the back of your neck prickle, and in an instant you've turned on your heel and fired off an attack you created with your husband; your hand is held out, thumb tucked in with a quick yet large burst of yellow energy.
"Woah!" Goku steps back. You're incredibly trigger-happy; Piccolo just barely dodged your great attack.
"Another Saiyan?" The Namekian grumbles, picking his weighted turban up from the ground and placing it back on.
"A very prideful one, Namekian, that doesn't appreciate your tone." You growl, eyes trained hard on the stranger, settling only with Goku's gentle touch to your shoulder.
Goku laughs nervously, hand coming to the back of his head as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Sorry, Piccolo! She's, ah, a little on edge. We're here to train in the chamber!"
"Hm." Piccolo's eyes harden. A strange Saiyan from nowhere, here with Goku's trust? Reluctantly, he crosses his arms and drops his suspicion. "What's the occasion?"
"I need to get stronger, so I can knock my son down a few pegs." You cross your arms. The thought of facing V, of going to him with the intention to harm him makes your stomach churn. But staying on Earth isn't an option; V must face his comeuppance.
"S-So I was hoping you'd help?" Goku grins at his friend. "Gohan got into college, by the way!"
The Namekian's barely-there smile surprises you. "Good. The one he wanted?"
"Yes." You confirm with a nod. "He's also promised me he'll keep up his training."
Piccolo stares for a beat, presumably finalizing his opinion of you with a nod. Goku sighs in relief and steps to the direction of the chamber, Piccolo following along. "I assume Goku has told you about the chamber."
"One day outside is an entire year inside." You confirm. The door looms over you with every step, your heart determined to come out of this chamber with the strength to surpass your son. The anxiety of the inevitable pushes through your veins similar to the feeling of being dropped into ice water, your heart pumping erratically with every step.
The hairs at the back of your neck prickle, Goku and Piccolo clearly having a similar indication. Your focus remains on the door, your hand even touching the handle, as you hear a pair of boots touch the ground.
"If anyone's going into that chamber with her, it'll be me, Kakarot."
Piccolo eyes Vegeta carefully; something about him has changed. This isn't an argument of his strength versus Goku's, for once. His eyes are locked solely on you, a Saiyan that as far as Piccolo knows, came from thin air. And if anyone would know another Saiyan, it'd be none other than the Prince.
"Go home to your wife and son, Vegeta." You hiss out, and open the door. Vegeta flies in between you and Goku, ensuring the door is slammed shut before Goku could even think about stepping inside.
You take in the surroundings of the room, an endless sea of white around the small rest area near the door. One year in this room.
With Vegeta.
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yellowcry · 4 months ago
Text
Her recipes are redeemies for real
Walking around and searching for a job takes a long time
Agustín just happened to overhear some talk
Twice to once au! It's been some time, isn't it?
Agustín squeezed through the streets. After a while he was getting used to uneven ground. He didn't trip as often as before. (Which still was more than anyone else, but was it that surprising?). The sun was burning. It danced high above, jumping with hot rays. Luisa wouldn't overwork for now. She always held this promise until at least about a week after Agustín's birthday, before eventually slipping back. So Agustín didn't have to worty about it too much. (But he should still check on her). He didn't work on rebuilding much, it wasn't his competition. Even if he doubted it was anyone's competition in here. Becides, as he figured it out, helping with rebuilding was a volunteering thing. They didn't earn much money for it, if there was any payment at all. Rather, Agustín was a general worker. Chopping the wood or fix the roof. There were always many important things to do that people didn't want to work on themselves. At the same time it didn't tie Agustín to anyone else. He had struggled to keep an official job, taking him infamous clumsiness. The same thing that kept him at bay with how easy it was to get into accidents sometimes.
It had caused problems sometimes. Even if Agustín worked on himself, he had to fix whatever he ruined by accident during his work. Which meant it took twice as much time as it could, if not more. Of course, he had other skills too. He finished musical academy in his youth. But not everyone had piano in their house. Even less would want to fire a pianist. It were such rera occasions that Agustín didn't count them as actual invome.
And, there was no need to say he was going out often, suggesting to help. What could anyone need? Chop the wood, dig the garden. He would do it. It was enough for way to keep things under control.
"Damn, why doesn't Julieta make food anymore?" Agustín blinked, turning his head. to the sourse of the sound. Two young men talked leaned against the dilapidated wall, chatting without care. "It tasted so good"
As far as Agustín knew, feeding anyone for free was expensive. Usually it was a while sosial organisation that would give foor to the poor beggars. But as far as Agustín had saw the place, he had never seen any form of social services, aside from people going out to help if someone was too weak. There was on organisation in them and so Agustín had to assume food was entirely Julieta's initiative. She would have resources for it, as the Madrigals were leaders of the community and should have more money that anyone else.
"Damn, Jose, you're right! Why can't we just get a free food? Hers was the best"
"Señora Julieta made food for free?" Agustín asked to himself. He didn't initially plan to speak out loud, but sooner realised that he did. Starting an awkward tension that swimmed in the air with the adroitness of a rocketed bird
The blond-haired man swallowed, copper eyes stared at him in worry. "You're that newbie," he muttered breaking the intorerably noisy and burning iced silence.
Agustín fixed his glasses, nervous. "Sorry, I just don't really get it." He shrugged, tilting his head down. An untouchable weight lied on his neck, the same way wind could cuddle in hair.
Another man, Señor Rodriguez, Agustín recognised him now, he had helped him with to clean his house several days ago. He was serious and loved to complain a bit too much for Rojas' taste. Even if he wouldn't confirm it out loud. Señor Rodriguez fidgeted with a button on his yellow shirt, twisting it around like a paper ball. "Julieta used to have a stand of free food!"
"Can you not afford food by yourself?" Agustín raised a thin eyebrow. The last time he checked, Señor Rodriguez wasn't broke. He had a good house, a heathly baby boy and could afford cleaning services instead of doing it himself. There was no way he didn't have money to buy food.
"What? No, of course I can." Señor Rodriguez replied in high-pitched voice He shook his head nervous fron misunderstanding.
The other guy, blonde, Agustín hadn't talked to him before, explained. "It's not about money. Señora Julieta just an amazing cook!"
Amazing cook? Okay, Agustín could confirm it. He visited Madrigals a couple of times. Usually with Pepa. They grew friendly enough very fast. And because of it, Agustín did spend time with the triplets and Félix from time to time. Well, minus Bruno, that guy wasn't very social. So a couple of times Agustín had got arepas practically shoved into his mouth. And yes, Julieta was very skilled. Her food was like a nightingale song.
But it didn't change the fact that Julieta herself didn't hold a responsibility to feed people in the village. If she did it before, then she must be so kind. But right now she didn't even have her own house. It was obvious she would have too much going on to take care of this. Especially for free.
Agustín cleared his throat an asked in a sore voice. "Have you thought to pay her for cooking?" He stared at his interlocutors, looking from one to another.
"Pay?" One of them asked, shocked. As if the idea was personally offensive to him. "But it's her responsibility!"
What?
"How is it her responsibility if she's not earning anything?" He clarified, remembering the fact that according to their words it was all for free. "In most places get even a piece of bread for free is nearly impossible."
Señor Rodriguez groaned with a quiet sigh. "She did this during her entire life. Becides, it's not even your business!"
"I'm just trying to understand.." Agustín fixed hus glasses. Which, in the moment of emotions slipped down, almost falling off his nose. He winced as somebody had pat hit hack twice.
Shifting his head to the side, he realised Señora Julieta was next to him, seeing the entire thing for some time. He wasn't sure for how long. He was too focused on the situation. The other men, now also seeing that the star of the chat was here, looked away awkwardly. Slightly guilty. They didn't mean Julieta to actually hear their complaints.
"That's alright, Señor." Julieta signed. "Don't worry about it much."
Agustín swallowed the spicy bile in hia throat. "They acted like you're supposed to feed them or something!" It was frustrating. The fact that they had enough nerve to ask woman, possibility twice of their age to cook for them for free. Like if they were kids. Neither he nor Julieta had payed attention to the pleads of innocence that followed by.
"Really, it's okay." Julieta tried to assure him. But Agustín was baffled at it. In what world it would be considered as normal?
The Madrigal had leaded him out, just by pure force. Ohh... What's with nice women being so strong? He had Luisa already, and Julieta seemed to pull him without much effort. On other hand, Agustín was pretty lanky, so possibly it was easy in reality. They went a good half of a kilometre away. Some villagers stared at this as they passed. Most seemed to barely pay at to it for a bit and then go back to their work.
Julieta swallowed, looking over her shoulder. Bit her lip. "Thank you," She nodded, nervous. "It was..." Looking away. "Nice of you." she whispered in a low voice
Agustín smiled, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, just bare manners." Some people definitely need those. It was so obvious Julieta had a whole lot going on in her life. He wouldn't be surprised if she stopped working even for money for the time being. Nevermind what kind of volunteering she participated into.
Señora chuckled, shooting her eyes up. Meeting Agustín's. "Mind coming dor a lunch?"
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wrecklessimagine · 1 year ago
Note
I want to Imagine David Rossi coming home from a long case and he's stressed so the reader decides to help him by letting him take total control in the bedroom.
Here is for all of you who have been anxiously waiting for some Italian Stallion love. And, to the nonniepot that requested this prompt--Something really kinky with blindfolds ice and handcuffs and the woman(me) slowly stripped naked and teased?--here it is, comin' 'atcha.
Obvious trigger warnings for content ahead.
(Also, keep in mind: I have not watched the reboot, so I'm not working with that particular Rossi.)
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Get Ready
The slamming of the door was all you needed to hear. One second, you're enraptured in a book, anxiously waiting for the love of your life to come home so you can celebrate his birthday. And the next second, you're scrambling to get out of your shared room.
Only for the man who stole your heart two years ago to go rushing by.
"Dave?" you ask as he rushes by in a haze.
"Not now, Y/N."
Your heart stills. Your soul holds it's breath. He never used your real name. Not unless something was very wrong. And as the slamming of his office door at the end of the hallway echoes toward you, you wonder if he even remembers what day it is.
You wonder if he remembers that it's his birthday.
Stepping out into the hallway, you eye the present sitting on the bed. A present just for him, on his special day. It had taken you so long to get him to appreciate the day he was born. And while you couldn't blame him for feeling the way he did about his birthday, there was a part of you that waited anxiously for him to come out. That waited anxiously for him to step back out of the door he had slammed so that you could pull him close and hold him.
But, all that remained was the silence of the hallway that stood between you and him.
Before an idea occurred to you.
Grinning wildly, you slip back into the room. You rip the present off the bed and yank the tissue paper out of the top of the bag. If he doesn't want to open your present, maybe he'd want to experience it.
So, you quickly get dressed into the barely-there emerald green lingerie and kneel at the edge of the bed.
Before placing handcuffs at your knees and wrapping a blindfold around your head.
"Sweetheart?" you call out.
Silence meets your echoing voice.
"Dave!?" you try again.
And still, nothing.
"David!" you bark.
That's when you hear the door off in the distance whip open. "What is it, amore mia?"
You did your best not to take his strict tone to heart. "I'm sorry to bother you, but can you come here for a second? I need your help with something."
The sigh he heaved broke your heart. You knew this case had been a long one for him. Rarely was he ever gone more than 3 days at a time, and he had been gone for an entire week. The lumbering footsteps alone told you everything you needed to know about how he felt. And for a split second, you thought about calling off the dogs. Maybe he was too tired. Maybe he'd come into the room and tell you to get up. Reject you, just like every other man had done.
Panic grips your throat as his footsteps come closer.
"Tesoro," he says as you hear your bedroom door swing open, "is this something that can--."
God, how you wished you could have seen his face. You, perched there, with handcuffs splayed across your lap and a blindfold covering your vision. The sparkling emerald green lingerie, barely covering your most private assets.
You can't help the grin that overcomes your face. "I may need a bit of help, handsome."
At first, when you hear the door close, your grin sinks. He left. Two words that run viciously through your mind. Your heart leaps into your throat. Your stomach sinks into your hips.
Until you feel the handcuffs leave your lap.
"You know I love you, right, tesoro?"
You nod your head as you hear the sound of metal clicking against metal.
"I need to hear you say it," he murmurs as he takes your wrist in his hand, wrapping it behind you.
You swallow hard. "Yes, I know you love me."
Your skin puckers as you feel his callused hand clamp down against your wrists, trapping them behind you. Goosebumps flee across your arms, causing you to shiver as the bed dips. Hot breath pulses against your face as a familiar arm wraps around your waist. And as your voice catches in your throat, your lips search for his.
Only for him to handcuff your wrists together.
"Good," he says as his hands roam your body, "because here in a few seconds, it won't feel like it."
A squeal is all that falls from your lips when he flips you. Despite the amount of times you and David had painted the walls of his home with your body, his strength never ceased to amaze you. In one fell swoop, you go from perched on your knees to having your cheek pressed against the mattress. His hand, gripping your hair. Your hips, hoisted high for him.
His girth, pressing against your ass cheek.
"Bella volpe," he grunts as his hand releases your hair, running down the length of your spine.
You draw in a shaking breath. "Happy Birthday, my love."
The heat of his lips against the small of your back make you jump. Your puckered peaks stiffen against the unsupported lace of your bra.
Then, he grabs your panties and rips them from your body.
"Ah!" you squeal.
"You're mine tonight," he growls as his thickness slides in between your lower lips.
"All yours," you say breathlessly.
"Every," kiss. "Last," kiss kiss. "Inch."
And before you could find your voice to proclaim your unending devotion to him, the tip of his cock catches your entrance.
Before he sinks himself down to the hilt.
His hand reaches for the braid of the cuffs, tugging at your arms. It lifts your head and you pant for air, adjusting to his intrusion. Your legs quiver as you rear back. His clothed chest descends against your shoulder blades. And as you grind back against him, he laps his tongue along the shell of your ear.
Before you find your voice yet again. "Take what's yours, my love."
And you sure as hell didn't have to tell him twice.
With one hand gripping your cuffs and the other wrapped around your throat, he dives into your body. He pulls back, with nothing but the tip captured between your swollen folds. He fills you to the brim, only to empty you, and you lose yourself in the heat of his touch. In the command of his grip. In the Italian phrases he growls against your ear as his body pounds against you. Your breasts bounce free. Your head falls back to his shoulder. His scruff tickles your neck, sending electric shockwaves cascading throughout your system.
You lose yourself in him. In the way your juices coat his shaft. In the way his body barrels against yours. In the way he commands every inch of you, demanding that you yield to his presence with nothing but the rhythmic drive of his hips.
And as your body begins to tense, he peppers your collarbone with kisses.
"Get ready," he murmurs.
"Oh, God. Dave. Shit. So close. So close. Please. Oh, fuck."
"Not just yet."
A whimper calls from your lips. "Dave, please. I-I-I--I can't."
"Yes, you can," he growls as he snakes his hand from your neck to your breast, tweaking your nipple hard.
"Ah!" you cry out as your pussy clamps down onto him.
"Come for me," he commands.
And that's all it takes. You unravel, shivering against him as your walls collapse around his girth. He stills, filling you with his length as you buck back against him, grinding yourself to an effervescent high. Stars burst in the darkness of the blindfold. Your legs give way, sending you catapulting to the bed. And as the sounds around you meld together, you think it's done. You think he's done.
Until he grabs your ankles and flips you onto your back.
"David!" you squeak.
"I'm not nearly finished with you yet," he warns.
With your hands trapped beneath you, he folds your knees to your chest. You hear something rattling around, but you're unsure of the noise. Cool air descends upon your swollen mound as your tits spill into the crevices of your body, aching to be touched.
"David, please," you beg.
"God, how I wish I had the self control," he grumbles.
His nose nuzzles your folds apart. You feel your juices dripping down your ass crack. You hold your breath, waiting for him to touch you. Waiting for his tongue to claim you. But instead, something cold falls against your most sensitive area.
Causing your back to bow.
"Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave," you chant breathlessly.
His chuckle rattles your ribcage. "What a lovely sight."
"David, please," you whisper desperately as you try to get away from the cold sensation, "please, just--."
He grabs your ankles and yanks you back to him. "Your body is mine. Stay put."
The cold was almost unbearable. It melts against your heated pussy, dripping down your creases as your toes curl. You pant for air, wiggling and struggling against David's strong hands. He folds your knees close to your chest. He laps up the liquid dripping down your ass. You jump with the touch of his tongue as your heavy pants turn to wanton groans.
And then, he finally had mercy.
"Such a good girl," Dave whispers before he licks up to your pulsing nub.
"Oh, God!" you cry out.
The warmth of his tongue is stronger than ever. The way he holds you down as he devours you spins your mind. Your words dissolve into breathless moans and mindless grumbles filled with uninterpreble phrases.
And the entire time, he sings your praises.
"You taste so good for me, bellissima."
"An angel sent from heaven"
"My luscious princess."
"David," you choke out. "I love you. I love you. I--love--."
He pulls back, earning a frustrated-albeit tired-kick from your foot. "Ask nicely, tesoro."
You can barely catch your breath. "Please, David. Let me come."
And he answered with flattening his tongue against your twitching clit.
"Dave!" you cry out.
His growls rattle your ribcage. His hold on the backs of your legs makes you squirm. Even with the blindfold, the widening of your eyes gives way to fireworks that burst within the darkness of your vision. Every single part of you comes alive, burning and churning and yearning for him. And as your back bows with your high, you hear his praises tumble from his lips.
"There we go."
"Just like that."
"So good to me."
"What did I ever do to deserve you?"
And as his lips, coated in you, capture yours, the blindfold comes tumbling down. Allowing you to smile up into the sparkling eyes of the man who owned your soul.
"Happy Birthday," you say lazily.
He captures your lips one more time before wrapping his arm underneath your back and pulling you upright. "I missed you, tesoro."
"I missed you, too," you say breathlessly as the handcuffs drop from your wrists.
"Now," he says as he lays you back down onto the bed, reaching between your bodies, "think you can hang on a bit longer."
A devilish grin crosses your face as your toes slink up the backs of his legs. "You know I can."
"Brava ragazza," he says as he guides himself back to your entrance. "Now, hold onto me."
You barely get yourself wrapped around him before the headboard begins bashing against the wall. Before his girth fills you. Spreads you. Teases you. Stuffs you full. Until all that's left is his mark dripping between your legs.
And his body covering yours from the harsh world you protect him from.
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popgoesthesneaselreturns · 2 months ago
Text
Stuart : The Fifth Equinox
The next soul Camil felt was very dark, not as dark as the monster but there was a deep conflict within this soul and it was connected strongly to Marie. She sadly couldn't ask Marie any questions since her soul along with Gavin's were now part of her. She took them within herself to protect them from the monster's control.
Marie's story was already very harrowing to go through. Camil dreaded to think how bad the others would be. Gavin truly had been blessed to suffer so little. Yet, this was no contest each one of these people weren't any less or more tragic than one another. Each one played a part in the monster gaining the power it had now. Each one was manipulated into playing a part in some twisted plan it made.
So, she followed the emotions she felt up to the next floor. This floor unlike the one before it was filled to the brim with entertainment spaces. There were games around every corner, as well as an ice rink, theatre, ballroom, everything you would expect from a space that rich person would have within the house. So why was it up here?
This certainly felt like the space where guests would spend the most time should they come here. There were even a few guest rooms. It was within one of these rooms that she felt the emotions.
Music
"Why hello there, ya here to take in the sights? This place got it all baby! This here is the floor of wonders! Where all your dreams and wishes come true! So stay a while take a load off!"
A Shuppet appeared from the shadows of the room zooming around with a powerful energy. Dancing around with Camil despite having no hands all the while smiling. Camil was rather shocked by this response the other souls before acted very hostile or dismissive towards her yet this one had a very welcoming aura. He clearly knew how to talk to people, or give off a good mood to those he spoke to.
Yet, this would mirthful nature soon faded. As the Shuppet looked directly into Camil's eyes. It looked rather scary, and if Camil wasn't as strong willed as she was she would have been intimadated.
"I also got some words for you. You better quit while you're ahead. You are playing a dangerous game here. You may think you're winning, but trust me the one who controls this place is a bastard even more so than yours truly. Getting Gav and Ma outta here would be a good thing to do...I certainly would miss them...but they don't belong here. They should get out...and you should too...pretty little things don't belong here...in the house of hell..."
Despite the harshness of the voice, Camil got the feeling this soul wasn't being entirely honest. Though, he said the things he did it almost felt like he was goading her to fight back. Like deep down he wanted her to fight. Wanted her to save him and the others. What was this then? A test of her resolve? Or maybe a game?
"I can't do that, the people here need help. I would be failing my duty if I didn't offer them salvation. I cannot flee from this until I'm done!"
"Ya shouldn't waste your time trying to save me or any of the others. We all messed up hard you know? And unlike those two you have. We had plenty more freedom than they did and we still got no where. Besides, why would some random Sneasel bother saving people she doesn't know? You almost remind me of the other Sneasel that was around here once. Poor bastard..."
"Wait, other Sneasel?! Who are you talking about?! Where are they?! Are they still around?! Are they dead?! Are they alive?!"
The Shuppet then smirked like he got what he wanted. This caused Camil to get mad. This had all been a trick! Damn it! She let slip something she had been trying to hide so strongly. Now, this soul had something over her which wasn't a good postion to be in.
"Sorry, old habits die hard. I had to know what you were really here for. Come on, no one is truly selfless. Everyone has their own agendas, their own selfish desires they want. You're no different, and the fact you acted the way you did makes me know you might be the gal to do it. The one to beat...that thing..."
"So you will tell me what you know about the other Sneasel?"
"Sure will, poor kid was the most recent addition to this house of horrors. Quite odd since before that the rest of us were human. But, I never could understand anything that monster did. He was here a number of years, doing different tasks. I got no idea why, the beast kept us all away from him. We'd get punished if we refused."
"So, he was a him? A brother...I had a brother here the whole time..."
Camil felt her mask drop in that moment as she almost started tearing up however, she soon composed herself once more.
"Don't know too much more I'm afraid, he never came to this floor that much other than to dance. He liked to dance a lot. Also do these strange acts in the theatre all by himself. I saw him do them...it was very hard to watch..."
"Where is he now?"
"Gone, he got ran outta this place ages ago."
"So, he's free! Oh thank the moon! Ahh...I was so worried...thank you so much for telling me...I was thinking about my sibling for so long."
"I don't deserve your thanks...I truly don't...if you saw what kind of a s*it person I was you'll see...that I deserve this...that I deserved to lose the game...to become a pawn to that thing..."
"No one deserves this! I don't care what you say...you clearly feel remorse for whatever it was you did. So, please tell me your story."
The ghost floats this way and that unsure, he didn't seem to trust the Sneasel much. Then again, it felt like he was a distrustful person by nature. Still, Camil was sure this soul was filled with guilt. And the best way to appeal to guilt is to tell them what they want to hear.
"No matter what happened, I will still save you."
"Forgive me if I don't believe you...but fine...if Ma trusted you...I can try trusting you too...if you do this though you gotta promise me. You are in this to win it! Don't chicken out! Hurt that bastard for all he did to me and the others! It deserves the worst pain imaginable!"
"You have my word, I will see that justice is done for you all."
That answer seemed to satisfy the ghost as Camil drew her sigils and called forth her spell once more to delve into the past of this soul.
Music Change
Stuart despite having art in his name wasn't as interested within such subjects as the other Equinoxs before him were. He was someone who was raised spoiled by his white haired mother. She gave him everything he could ever want. Yet, that never seemed to be enough. Stuart wanted it all! He wanted to win! He had an obsession with the high he got from winning! The only one who ever beat him was his mother. And it made sense since she was who taught him this mentality. Stuart learned from his mother that winning in life was all that mattered. And that standing above everything made you king.
I mean, she won hadn't she? She had this nice house, this place that was bigger than one person ever needed. But, she was all alone here. How can a lady of such class be content with that? What good was having all this if you weren't going to show off right? How else would people know how worthless they were by comparison? So Stuart decided he would show them! Show the entire world the house that had raised a winner like him! So when he was old enough he did that.
It was Stuart who put the mansion on the map of the art world. He was a master of spreading wealth around in the right ways. He was also good at forming connections, good at picking out good deals while lowering the amount of money he payed out for said deals. If Stuart did have an art he excelled at it was the art of negotiation.
He was a natural born leader of men, few could out do him in a war of words. He could read people like books, see their weaknesses, how to avoid their strengths, but most of all how to hit them where it hurt. Stuart could do all of this without ever having to draw a weapon. And it made him feel good to do it, he enjoyed crushing anyone who got in his way. Whether they be law men, gangsters, art collectors, reporters, Stuart had them all of them eat from the palm of his hand.
However, there was one person who still stood above him. The same woman that had always stood above him. And she hadn't taken kindly to the kind of man Stuart had become much to his shock. She hadn't liked all these people wandering the halls of the house. She often got angry beyond belief glaring at Stuart with a deep hate.
It was on such day that their fates became sealed.
Music Change
"Such a wretched child, you are not beloved at all. Looking at you makes me sick. You have turned the house that I have built and cultivated over the years into a tourist trap. This is not what I taught you! Greed has turned you ugly beyond belief! You have broken my heart! I am truly sad Stuart! How could you do this to me? How could you do this to the other Equinoxs?"
"Eh, who the f**k cares? With all the money we're making the region is our oyster. I've got deals with all the major publishers, buyers for the plants, collectors for the statues and editors for the paintings. With all that I've gained the Equinox's works will become the biggest moneymakers the world ever saw. You gotta trust me ma. I'm doing the right thing here. You just go back to your books."
"Money is nothing but a social construct, it has no place in the world of art. It does not bring balance not ugly or beauty just corruption. You have been corrupted! You have turned the art of your elders into fabrications that are not worth anything! I cannot let this stand! I will have not let you ruin my house or the artworks any longer! Not anymore Stuart! I will not allow it! You are a failure!"
"Excuse me?! What the hell did you say to me?! I am an inovator! Before I came along not one person even heard of the Equinox Mansion. Yet, because of me everyone and their pokemon have heard of us. They are begging to come here to sample everything this place had to offer. I did it for you ma! To provide for you!"
"No! You did it for your own ego! And because of this weak body I could do nothing to stop you! Stuart you are beyond disgusting! You are no child of mine! I will not accept you as worthy of the name Equinox any longer! You are nothing you hear me? NOTHING!"
"Are you disowning me? You old hag! You ungrateful piece of..."
The two shared rage filled words until eventually a gun was pulled by Stuart. There was an ugly expression upon his face. His mother looked back with the same level of anger back towards him. Any sense of love they ever shared was gone. The forth Equinox Marie with her mask upon her face looked truly heartbroken by this. How much of that emotion was the monster? How much of it was Marie?
"Now you listen here, you even think of trying to throw me out you're going to be sorry. All those artists of the past are long dead. What good does holding onto this worthless junk do? You're too wrapped up in the old traditions to see the future. I am taking us to a brighter tomorrow! One where we can have everything we could ever want! Why would I ever want to stay here? When there's a whole world out there waiting to me? A world ready for me to take as my own?"
The mother turned away, she said nothing more outloud but Stuart could have sworn on the wind he heard the words:
"Enjoy your worthless pieces of paper, your power, your connections, your everything for as long as it lasts. For soon I will take it from you. There is nothing more I ever want to say to you."
And like that she was gone, leaving Stuart with all the wealth he had gained from his many ventures. Dirty deals, gambling, art auctions, pokemon battle rigging, you name it Stuart didn't care so long as he gained more dollars for his wallet. No amount was ever enough for him he wanted to drown in money. But, as time went on everything began to feel hollow. As the years went on Stuart began to enjoy this life he built up less and less. His success became more and more empty. The people around him were all leeches that were only around to take what he had. He realised he missed his mother.
He missed the days when the two were together. Those days had been worth something, yet all he had now felt like nothing. So, he went back to mansion to make amends with his mother say sorry for all that he had done. It might be too late, he certainly knew he was a bastard but he still loved his mother. He had to say what he wanted to say to her before it was too late. That was all that mattered to him.
But, when he got to her all he found was a lady dead in her chair. She died of a broken heart, a heart broken by the son she raised. Yet, what scared Stuart the most was the sight made him feel nothing. It was in this moment he realised how messed up he truly was. And, that no matter what he could never say what he wanted to say to the mother who gave him everything. What he had truly wanted to say!
"Ma...I wanted to make you happy...I did it all for you...all this wealth...this power...I wanted to take care of you...without you...what was it all for? What do I have left?"
"Farewell you disgusting child it is time I take everything you thoughtlessly destroyed back. It might take time but I will undo the damage you have done. To the abyss with you!"
And with that the mask upon his mother's face shot off and latched onto Stuart's face causing the world to go dark. All that remained was an intense sense of emptiness. Of words never said and miscommunicated emotions that never reached the intended ears.
Camil wasn't sure what to say to that outcome, in this story the villain was the soul of Stuart. He had sold precious works of the mansion, then created forged copies of those works then sold them too. He had then taken part in evil dealings, but Camil could see the nuance. It might have ended up that way but to begin with Stuart had been a child who simply enjoyed playing games with his mother. The monster had spoiled him rotten with too much love then chose to give him none. The way this happened felt like another experiment.
"You blamed him for being corrupted by the allure of ritches. But, you were the one to plant that seed within him! You made him into this creature of insatiable greed! He became that way because he thought it would please you! And when he did become that way and you pushed him away obviously he broke! It took time but he still broke like you wanted him to! All of this was your fault!"
Camil's mother would never give salvation to a tainted soul like Stuart's she would say he brought this fate upon himself. Camil however, intended to still offer salvation for Stuart. Despite all he had done his soul still shouldn't remain trapped here. He was still a victim just the same as the others. So she sang her song allowing the soul of Stuart to enter her as Marie and Gavin had done before him.
"I will save all of them no matter what sins they may have committed. In the end it all comes back to you! You still ruined their lives! This won't be over till I save all of them. Then, I am coming for you!"
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