#how gently he closes and releases the hand is such a good representation of the good guys in lotr

[a-secret-land]

I know.

[beidousbunny]

scine requests are open, mfmffm, domming foul legacy makes my brain itch real good (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

warnings: pet play, dumbification (childe isn’t allowed to speak), collaring, dry humping, you call childe puppy

“Sit boy!” You commanded, pointing at Childe, who had turned into his foul legacy transformation by your request.

Tonight was a meaner session, a representation of your dominance over such a man.

A spiked collar wrapped snuggly around his throat, clipped to a leather chain that rested in your palm. You ordered that he wouldn’t speak this time, that he would just be your dumb little puppy for the night.

He growled quietly, slumping down on the floor with a loud thud and clank of armor. He was sitting just like a dog, hands between his spread legs with his knees bent.

You smiled at his obedience, reaching forward to pet the long, fluffy hair that spread out behind his mask.

“Good boy.” You praised, watching happily as he leaned into your pets, slightly nudging his head to get more.

You looked down at him from the spot on your shared bed, a smirk growing on your face at the power you felt, having him stare up from below you.

You gave a tug to his leash, making him grunt.

“Come here puppy,” You cooed, sticking your leg out in invitation, “Come hump Master’s leg like the needy little thing you are.”

Childe wasted no time crawling towards your stuck out leg, the orb on his mask practically glinting with delight.

You guide Childe with a hand in his hair, bringing his face to rest against your thigh. His claws hook around the back of your knee, as he settles his cock against your shin.

“That’s a good boy...” You praise, carding a hand through his hair as he begins to roll his hips against you feverishly.

You can clearly hear the electrified whines and whimpers behind his mask. He rubs his head into your thigh affectionately, grinding down harder.

“Such an eager puppy, huh?” You purred, cupping his face and stroking over his cheekbones.

His hips hitch against your leg, growls and pants turning into desperate cries as he squeezes the back of your leg harder.

“Mmm—haaa,” He gasps, and you bet he’s wrecked and crying under his mask, absolutely drooling as he uses your leg to get off.

It’s pathetic how worked up he is, whimpering against your thigh as he drags himself against you for release. He’s as desperate as a bitch in heat, but your heart can’t help but flutter at his neediness.

“That’s it,” You coo, petting him gently, “You’ve been very good for Master, puppy... go on, cum for me.”

He makes a happy noise, so desperate that you can feel yourself throb.

He groans, arching against you harshly, as he ruts down on you a few more times before cumming against you with a sharp cry.

“Shhhh,” You soothe as he pants and whines against you, hiccuping every so often. You lift his mask so he can breathe better, happy to see his pretty face after such a mean session.

“T-Thank you... Master...” He mumbled, closing his eyes in bliss as you pet him once more.

“I didn’t say you could talk yet did I?” You smirk as his eyes snap open, looking up at you mournfully.

You snicker at his reaction, and he pushes his face into your thigh, “Shut up.” He grumbles.

“Watch it,” You snap, using the hand in his hair to lift his face to look at you.

“Catch your breath while you can puppy... you still have to repay Master.”

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

The Gift - o2

He’s back! 

CW: Intimate whumper (nonsexual but they’re... well they’re kinda a lot) creepy whumper, asphyxiation, bruises, collars, defiant whumpee

[Masterlist]

They walked in and paused. Little o2 was curled up on the rug, right where they had left him. His eyes were closed, mouth cracked open in a hopeless draw for air. 

It would always be hopeless with the tight collar around the boy’s throat. 

They hummed happily and stepped over him, content to leave their pet for just a moment longer. After gathering what they needed, they returned and crouched down next to his head. With a soft hand, they lifted the boy’s head, cricking his already bruised and abused neck. Distracted, they palmed it side to side, watching the skin bend and warp. Beautiful. 

“Hey there little o2. You awake in there?” 

His eyes fluttered open, red and unseeing. He didn’t sleep anymore - couldn’t afford the risk. If he fell asleep, he might stop breathing. 

And no matter what, he didn’t want to die. 

“There’s my good boy. You know you are, right? My good boy?” 

It was only the barest of twitches, but it was still the twitch of a scowl. They smiled at it, happy that spark was still there. 

It was honestly more fun that way. 

“And you’ve been so good I’ve decided to give you a treat. Do you want to know what it is?” 

O2’s eyes were starting to glaze again, chest jittering. The angle was torture, restricting the already tight space left in his airways. They rolled their eyes and let his head down. Annoying. But at least he was still entertaining. 

The boy wheezed in a little breath, eyes still fluttering closed. It was impossible to fight back, impossible to do anything but suffer at the hands of the person who wanted to watch. 

“Your reward,” they continued, petting back his hair, “Is five minutes. Five minutes without your collar. Doesn’t that sound nice?” 

There was no response. 

They sighed once again and went to undo the collar. They knew they had been cutting it close, but really this was a little dramatic even for him. The bruises were beautiful, dark and pigmented. 

The color. The color was like nothing that could be replicated with pigments or paints. It was so raw, so unique. No other way to get them, no other way to see it besides taking someone to the brink of death and pulling them back. It was more than just a rare color - it was the representation of power. 

There was nothing like it. 

A moment later, Kenji gasped brokenly. He coughed, racking his entire body. The way he curled to protect his throat was totally unconscious, totally out of his control. Natural instinct trying to protect the vulnerable parts of him from the predators that surrounded him. 

Still enjoying the broken sounds he made, they stood to give him a moment. 

Kenji wheezed and gasped, clawing at the ground. Full breaths of air made his head spin, feeling dizzy and weightless even as he pressed into the fine rug. It hurt, everything hurt. His neck was a constant throb of pain, lungs burning for air. He coughed again, fists made and pressing in. 

But even through the pain, his vision was starting to come back. The door, he could see the door. Like always, it wasn’t even locked. It was slightly ajar - mocking him. He pulled his head up from the ground, staring at it. It was so close, a foot or two, and he’d be out of this room. Out of this house, away from this inhuman monster. It was so close. 

But he couldn’t stand. He tried, oh how he tried, but he couldn’t. His legs were jelly, arms fully unable to lift him up. For a moment it seemed it would work, almost to his hands and knees, but his arm gave out and Kenji went crashing back down. 

“Cute. It’s all very cute. But really o2, don’t you want to be happy here? I could make you happy. I could make you feel good.” They stalked over, standing over him. Easily, they put their foot down between his shoulder blades and pinned the weak boy to the ground. 

He coughed and grit his teeth. “*Fucking bastard,” he spit out hoarsely. 

They smiled. 

“Oh, how I do love your voice like that. Shame about the choice of words, but you’ll learn. Or maybe you won’t - doesn’t matter to me.” They released him and sat on the backs of his thighs. With a hand snaked under his shoulder, they pulled back his chest until he was nearly sitting up. He tried to struggle, tried to pull away, but it was pointless. 

“Bastard. You’re a miserable excuse for a human. You deserve nothing,” Kenji spat, breathing faster while he knew he still could. The person behind him hummed and gently wrapped a hand around his throat. The slightest pressure hurt It made him whimper and writhe. 

“So cute when you’re fired up. But really, much cuter when you’re still and limp for me.” 

A belt looped around his chest, directly under his armpits. Kenji struggled, of course he struggled, but it still tightened. 

One wasn’t so bad. 

Another a centimeter lower was … doable.

A third made it hard to breathe. 

The fourth constricted his lungs even further. 

The fifth was the worst, feeling like it would snap his ribs. 

He cried out at the last one - or at least tried to. There was just no air, no way. Every exhale made more room, more slack that would be ratchet away. Kenji tired to keep his chest full and expanded, but it was impossible. 

He had to breathe. 

They slowly tightened the straps, using a little tool they had made just for this exact reason. Not too tight of course; they didn’t want to snap any ribs. But enough. Enough that the spine couldn’t flex, the ribcage couldn’t expand, the lungs couldn’t work all the way. 

“Fucking…. Bastard….” Kenji whispered, barely able to hold himself up anymore. His shoulders hit the ground and he shuddered. No, no no not again. He couldn’t do it again. 

A hand pet through his hair gently, already enjoying how he wilted without air. They leaned down close to his ear, close enough to feel their breath. 

“I have some friends coming tomorrow. They’re very excited to meet you.” 

Kenji squeezed his eyes closed and grit his teeth. No, he could do this. He had to. 

He had to live to punch the bastard in the nose.

~

@milk-carton-whump @bumpthumpwhump @mysticwhump @whump-it

[vixenpen]

To Resist Temptation pt. 1

(THIS FIC IS RIDDLED WITH BLASPHEMY!! I, myself, am not religious (actually an atheist) but this idea has been on my mind for a while. It is never my intention to mock or disrespect anyone’s personal beliefs. With that said, if you are a person of faith this fic may not appeal to you. It’s not to be taken as a serious representation of the faith it portrays! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNEDDDD!!!!)

(Trigger warnings: religious themes, succubus, authority kink, degradation, god complex/kink)

(Art by: @kadeart )

You chanted your prayers of protection under your breath quietly.

Every nervous thud of your heart seemed to pound in your ears as you ascended the steps to the large white brick chapel.

“Keep yourself safe. Seek salvation, and temptation won’t overtake you.”

The temptation won’t overtake me.

The mantra echoed in your mind over and over.

You smoothed your dress, hoping you looked appropriate. The clingy Sunday sundress fell just above your knees and didn’t expose too much of your cleavage. Of course it was impossible for you not to look tempting. Even just a bit. It was in the switch of your hips. The gleam in your eyes. The natural scent you gave off. It was, quite literally, in your blood. Not that any of this was your choice...

You shook the thoughts away, opened the heavy door of the church, and slipped inside.

“To walk without God is to wander without a true purpose.”

The congregation responded accordingly with hums of approval and agreement. Keigo continued.

“To stray from god’s path is to—“

His amber eyes fell on the late comer. A woman who stood out against the mostly somberly dressed masses in her pastel church dress. She kept her head ducked as she found a seat in the front row. Once she faced him, a soft content smile settled on her beautiful face.

Oh...she was stunning...

Soft, smooth looking skin, eyes that smoldered, lush lips, hard nipple-

What? No. Not here. Not now.

Everybody was watching him. Waiting. Keigo hadn’t even realize that he’d stalled for so long. Reluctantly he dragged his gaze away from the beautiful new comer and continued his sermon.

“T-to stray from God’s path, is to invite unrest into your soul.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keigo enjoyed these times best. The dark, contemplative silence of the confession booth. Just a holy man and God. The times between members coming to make their confessions felt peaceful and sacred.

He liked to stay behind a couple hours after service and a couple hours beforehand for his congregation. But it was just as much for himself as it was for them.

He rested against the wooden back, eyes closed in an almost meditative manner. Although his mind was far from clear. His thoughts kept wandering back to the mystery member who had slipped in late and gazed at him so enraptured. How her lips remained parted slightly, and everytime she crossed and uncrossed her legs, the hem of her dress rose a little more...

He shook his head mussing his tousled blonde hair even more. Those thoughts weren’t appropriate for a holy man. A man in such a sacred place. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander to such places.

The scuffling of someone entering the booth roused Keigo out of his thoughts.

“Um...hello?”

He held back a chuckle.

“Yes?”

“Oh! Uh, yes, hi! I’m sorry father I’ve never done this before.”

The disembodied female voice stammered nervously. Keigo squinted as he tried and failed to place the voice, and then he realized; it was you.

“Th-this is my first confession, and I’m not sure what to do. Can you help me?”

“O-of course,” he stammered back. He coached you through what to say, biting back a moan when you said: “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

He pressed a hand to his stirring member. Sensing your hesitation. Your innocence despite the wicked beauty you possessed. How cute. How naive.

“This is a safe place, you can tell me what is troubling you.”

“Well...I have these urges..”

“What sort of urges?”

“It’s like...this hunger,” you replied, voice taking on a slight rasp that shot straight to the handsome priests dick. “I want,” your voice dropped into a soft whisper, “I want sex all the time. Day and night. Sometimes I see strangers and I want to give myself to them right then and there.”

Oh god...

Keigo’s mind was reeling from the salacious words dripping from your pretty mouth. He had known it. He knew someone that angelically beautiful couldn’t truly be innocent. It wasn’t natural. The magnetism you possessed in your swaying hips and the way it juxtaposed your soft expressions.

“F-father?”

Keigo coughed. “Um, yes. Go on,” he urged, “what do you envision yourself doing with these strangers?”

“Anything that could make them cum. The most depraved things. It’s as if I can see what people most desire sexually and it-it frightens me.”

You are a holy man, Keigo. A good man of faith.

The young priest told himself as his hard on strained.

“Father, what should I do? I don’t want to give in to the temptation. I don’t want to be corrupted or currupt others.”

“You must remember, that temptation is not sin itself.“ he replied.

Be strong. Don’t give in to temptation. He stroked his painful erection gently. This woman needs you. This poor lost soul...

“You still have a chance to turn away from temptation and turn to Jesus as your answer.”

“How though, father? When temptation is all around me. Even today I—“

His throat went dry.

“Today?” He pressed. “What do you mean today?”

“It’s shameful, father.” You replied rubbing your thighs together.

The desire pooling between your legs massaged the lips of your womanhood, sending pleasure through out your body.

You had chosen this new church home at random at the behest of your mother. The older you got, the stronger your succubus side became. Soon it might overtake you completely. Until you were a sex driven demon. Like your incubus father. The no good demon who had impregnated your mother.

It was your greatest fear whenever you looked in the faces of strangers who attracted you, whether it was physically or mentally. That you would infect them with your own curse and bear more cursed children.

But it was also so achingly tempting that it hurt sometimes. The toys you had bought didn’t help. The other incubus/succubus men and women you secretly convened with didn’t help.

You knew that you needed humans. Pure, untainted humans...

But you hadn’t expected a priest so handsome. So strong and self assured in his word. Hadn’t expected the hooded golden eyes that smoldered with intelligence and the desire of a young man who had repressed himself for so long that he ached for release. The burden of all the marriages he had severed at former churches because of his affairs with the men and women of his congregation and how it weighed heavy on his mind. Best of all, you knew he would do it all again just to feel that sweet release.

And God, as if regular humans weren’t tempting enough, fallen holy ones were the embodiment of desire.

“I know what you want the most, father,” you practically moaned. The honeyed cadence of your voice like a siren song to a mortal. You tried so hard to fight it, but you could no longer help it with the stench of his desire and lust filling your nose. “You want someone to run their fingers through that beautiful golden hair of yours while they lock you between their thighs. You want someone to beg you for their release. You want this so much that it frightens you too, doesn’t it? It almost aches. I could see it watching you today.

The priest was stunned silent. Afraid that if he did dare say anything it would be to ask the stranger to tell him more. More of his sinful thoughts. More of her own sinful thoughts. More about why the urges he had successfully kept at bay for five years now had come back to the forefront of his mind at full force when he looked at her.

Mindlessly, he pulled out his throbbing dick and rubbed the viscous spill of desire leaking from the head around the top before spreading it along the thick shaft.

You can’t, Keigo! You shouldn’t! Remember your prayers. Your promise to god!

Oh but what was it again? What were those prayers? The words had twisted in his mind. What was that promise to god? Something about repentance and regret?

The thrum of pleasure that coursed through him with every stroke only made him forget those vows more.

“I-I’m sorry father,” you continued. Your voice smothered the man’s senses like a warm blanket. So soft and inviting. Just like the rest of you. “I need your help...please.”

A prayer. A promise. You will resist temptation.

“I,” he choked on the words. His mind cloudy from the warring thoughts swirling about it. “I can help you. We can beat this temptation together.”

“Thank you, father.” You sighed. “Or I believe you prefer to be called: daddy.”

(Pt.2)//(Pt.3)

[thran-duils]

Dubious Representation (P.2)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 2,401 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse Author’s Note: Decided on three parts!

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You walked into the office, alone, his secretary, Sarah, closing the door behind you. You stood by the door, not taking a seat or moving towards the desk.

“You’re early,” Hank commented, typing on his laptop, eyes focused there.

“I always give myself at least a fifteen-minute buffer,” you told him. “Seemed to not be a problem since you called me in anyway.”

He smirked briefly as he continued to type.

After a minute, he clicked a couple times before shooting you a look, “You gonna just stand there? Sit down, please.” You started moving to the chair and he tsked, “No, come here.”

You slowly placed your purse on the chair and moved around his desk. He scooted his chair back and leaned back in the chair, tapping his lap. Keeping a neutral face, you turned around and sat lightly, not putting all your weight on him.

“You doing a wall sit? Your legs are gonna be shaking in no time. Come on, make yourself comfortable.” You closed your eyes, taking a small breath. You had signed up for this. You scooted to do what he asked, and he breathed deeply as you settled on his lap. “Nice yoga pants by the way.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not. It seems to be your only tone.”

Hank chuckled, “Oh, I’m more than serious. You can’t feel that?”

You could and that is why you wanted to move. He was already poking you in the ass through his slacks.

“Couldn’t miss it.”

“You trying to flatter me? Well, it’s working.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, and he tapped. “Read that document on the computer. It’s what you both told me last about the incident and I wanna know if it’s complete.”

Leaning forward you focused on the screen and tried to not think of Hank admiring the curve of your ass as you leaned forward. You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not getting hot with what was happening.

You scanned the document as quickly as you could and nodded. “It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’. That’s not encouraging.”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“That’s better, sweetheart.”

His hands were running up and down your thighs, fingers gentle and tantalizing. You looked over your shoulder at him and he grinned in response.

“I think we can sway the jury to see it as self-defense, get that charge dropped. You’ll need to look like a little doe though sitting behind him, garner sympathy with that pretty face of yours. Protective husband just making sure his wife didn’t get hurt or worse. Emphasize the worst, put that in their head what could have happened. It would justify him putting a knife up to the guy’s neck.”

You stood quickly, the memory flooding back.

Hank followed your movement and he said gently, “Hey.” He turned you to face him and he rubbed your arms. “Sorry, we’ll stop talking about it. It’s good. We got it. Let’s talk about you. How ravishing you look. You’re stunning, doll.”

He followed your gaze until he provoked you to meet his and he came in for a slow kiss. You were stiff at first, still thinking of that man that had tried to assault you and how enraged Rich had become. He had almost killed the guy if people had not pulled him off.

Hank’s lips were soft, but his kiss grew in intensity. He had you pressed up against the desk and encouraged you to sit up on it. Your legs wrapped around his, one hand holding the back of his neck. You arched your back, pressing towards him when he captured your mouth again. You melted into his embrace, there was nothing overtly malicious about it. It was comforting even.

He groaned lightly, his lips trailing across your jawline, tucking into the nape of your neck. His grips were tight and desperate as he searched your body, his mouth devouring at your shoulder. He was relishing in just having you to touch.

Hank pulled away flushed, his lips darker and swollen. He came back for another deep kiss, and you met him in his fervor. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you swirled yours, much to his pleasure.

“God, you’re divine,” he breathed pulling away again.

“Flattering me?” you asked, turning his own quip back on him. “It’s working.”

He simpered going for your top. He freed you from it and dipped down nipping at the tops of your breast poking out from your bra. His hands worked at the clasp at your back, and he tore the bra off as well.

You took the opportunity to stop him, his lustful gaze confused at your hand on his chest, holding him suddenly.

“You’re clean, right?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I came prepared.” He held up a condom he pulled out of his pocket.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m clean. You?”

“Yes. I’m only sleeping with Rich.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Hank said curtly before he ordered, “Over the desk, legs spread. I wanna see you stretch around me.”

You felt heat in your core at his dominant behavior. Rich was only like that when he was drunk but he could also get violent when he was drunk. It was rarely worth the risk.

Slipping off the desk, you rubbed against him considering he barely gave you any room. Hooking your fingers into your waist band, you began to tug your pants down, but he said, “Ah, ah. I’ll do the honors. Just do what I told you.”

Your stomach met the desk and you spread your legs like he asked. His hands ran up your thighs and across your ass, admiring. He squeezed and prodded, one hand slipping between your legs to run up your pussy. You shivered, your hands clenching at the contact. He hummed in approval as he yanked your bottoms down past your knees, them falling the rest of the way to your ankles.

“Isn’t that a lovely sight?” He purred, squeezing at your ass. He let out a small growl, lying a light smack.

You heard him rip the condom open and you gripped at the desk, your breathing beginning to quicken with the anticipation.

“Nervous, doll?”

“No,” you breathed.

Hank praised, “Good girl.”

His cock pressed in, and you bit your lip, holding back a moan. His hand came to the back of your neck as he entered further, and you took him inch by inch.

Setting a steady pace, he started using you, muttering praise under his breath that you only caught snippets of. Your fingers dug into the desk as your hips began to rut as his speed increased. He groaned holding your hips tight, bruising thrusts against your ass as he pounded into you, the desk shaking. You feared Sarah would hear, even though she was further down the hall.

He brushed your core and you moaned sharply giving yourself away. He slowed, drawing himself out and in painfully slow, brushing your spot. You whimpered with each contact.

“There you are,” Hank said with a throaty chuckle.

He increased his thrusts again, making sure to pay special attention to you, panting as his cock drew in and out. You arched your back as you buried your head, pathetic moans falling from your lips. You were trying to bury them into his desk. One hand came to your back, pressing down as his breathing became erratic, forcing you flat again.

“Come on, doll. Come for me. Don’t worry about Sarah. She won’t bother us. Come all over my cock. Show your appreciation.”

You released with a sharp cry, your hands flat against the desk tautly. Hank groaned obscenely feeling your walls constrict and he increased his thrusts before he came in rasping breaths, shaking against you.

Hank pulled away, taking the condom off, and carelessly tossing it into the trash by his desk. He wiped at his face and said, “Shit. Made me work up a sweat. Can’t wait for the next round though.”

<><><>

Your phone buzzed beside you on the blanket, and you reached over blindly, grabbing it. Pushing your sunglasses up, you looked at the text. It was Hank.

Where are you?

Grant Park. Why?

Just a little bit hungry.

What was he getting at? Was he asking you out on a date…? You had not seen him since Friday; it was Wednesday now. Your stomach clenched at the thought. How would that look if anyone you knew happened to spot you? Still, you texted him back. Maybe he meant just a drive thru and not out in the open.

Do you want to get lunch?

I thought you’d never ask. Meet me at the south entrance. Grey Ferrari convertible.

He drove recklessly and the wind whipped around you. He stopped up against the curb at a sandwich place and ushered you inside to order a sandwich to go. Small blessings you would not have to sit at a table and wonder if someone you knew walked by and would tell Rich you were having lunch with another man, even if it was his attorney.

Hank took you to the marina and led you to a boat. His boat, he explained, and it was a sunny day so why not enjoy it on the deck? There was a table with a cushioned wrap around couch that you sat at.

You barely got two bites in before he was on you and you gasped quickly when he got to his knees, spreading your legs apart, shoving your dress up.

“Hank, what are you doing?” You hissed.

“I thought you offered me lunch,” he stated bluntly.

“We are in public—"

“Exciting isn’t it?”

“Can’t we go… inside? You said there was a bedroom downstairs—” you suddenly squeaked as he nipped at the inside of your thigh near your pussy.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, and you could not hide from him anymore. A wicked grin came across his face, his fingers sliding in your wetness.

“Looks like you are ready to serve,” he purred. His fingers left you and he brought them up to his lips, sucking on them. “Sweet. Just like I like it.”

You looked over your shoulder nervously trying to see if there were any people on the dock nearby or any of the boats. You did not spot anyone, but you did not have long to look because Hank drew you back by tugging roughly at your underwear, pulling them off and tossing them onto the table.

“Hook your leg over my shoulder,” he told you, his breath hot on your sex.

You obeyed and he was lecherous and starving in the way he dove in. Your hands braced against the cushions, gasping gently. He sucked and licked, devouring the taste of you.

“Good thing I’m not a huge fan of these slacks cause this deck hasn’t been cleaned in a week,” he joked, laying small kisses up and down your pussy before he was back at it, determined to make you come into his skilled mouth.

<><><>

Washing his hands at the sink, Hank saw Warren, the DA lawyer for Rich’s case, walk in. Warner actually smirked seeing Hank, stopping his stride to the urinal.

“Funny you took this case on…” Warner told him.

“Why’s that?” Hank asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

“I mean. I have never seen you take a case that can be so easily lost. You’re always just win… win… win.”

“Stop fucking around and just say what you wanna say,” Hank said impatiently, turning to face him.

Warner cocked his head and asked, “It is plain as day the way the jury is going to swing about this aggravated assault. Considering his past abuses against women.”

Hank did not let his face betray him, but he was tense at the information.

All he said was, “We will see about it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom, immediately whipping out his phone.

<><><>

“Get your ass over here!” Hank snarled at Rich, pulling him away from a startled Y/N. He pulled him into an empty room and shoved him up against the wall roughly.

“What the fuck is your—" Rich started to snap.

“You didn’t tell me you were a fucking abuser!” Hank snarled at him, getting in his face. “You’ve been booked for domestic violence not once but twice! Was it her? Y/N?”

Rich only looked caught off guard for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have anything to do with—" Rich tried to argue, ignoring his question.

And Hank almost lost it completely, the veins in his temples taut with his ferociousness.

“It has everything to do with this! My job is to cast doubt on the assault charges! Show it was self-defense! The DA is gonna have — actually I know they have this information about you slapping your wife around. How do you think that’s gonna bode on the jury’s opinion?”

He took a step back, running his hand over his hair, tugging. He swore under his breath, trying to calm himself down to no avail.

“You’re... you fucked me! Hung me out to dry!” Hank snarled. He got close again, hand on his hip, pointing a finger threateningly at Rich. “We are gonna lose this appeal! Because you weren’t honest! And you set us up for failure but being a raging piece of shit! You’re going to prison for a long time!” He scoffed. “You didn’t ‘wanna leave your wife’. Give me a fucking break! It sounds like that would be the best thing for her! And that’s what the jury is gonna think too!”

“It’s a litigation now and I would need to ask for permission to leave! And you know what? I actually like your wife. She’s not a dickhead like you. And I told her to her face I would do my best. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” He shook his head furiously again and snarled, “Rookie goddamn mistake on my part for trusting you were going to tell me everything straight up. Rookie mistake!”

He shot Rich a murderous look and said, “You better kiss your fucking wife goodbye, Richard. Because you are going to go away for probably at least a decade!”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney

[circlique]

I love brotherly/ mentor mongolia and south korea! Can you that same platonic pairing for 38 or 10 (preferably 10)? Thank you!

10. “I think I twisted my ankle...”

38. “Let's take a deep breath..."

——

The last few decades had been...interesting...to say the least.

Yong Soo, of course, was not thrilled to be conquered by a foreign power. After all the bloodshed and destruction that the Mongols had cast upon his kingdom, there had been no choice but to submit or be destroyed.

Unlike the invasions, however, Mongol rule was not nearly so crushing. Nowadays, it was looking a lot less like a conquest and more like an annoying bureaucracy. The Mongol “takeover” in practice was a lot more lenient than he had imagined. Yong Soo’s sovereignty was mostly respected. His royalty still got to rule—they just had to intermarry with the Mongolian royalty and keep on their good sides—a comparatively easy concession.

It was almost like a complicated game of house. Korean princes putting on their best Mongol garmets and charming Mongol princesses with their best renditions of old Mongol stories. Even Khan seemed fond of some of the princes.

Likewise, Mongolia—Batukhan—reflected this firm, but fair rulership. Loyalty was prized above all else, and dissent was dealt with swiftly—but for the most part, he treated the young Korean representations as if they were his own.

Recently, Batukhan had been agreed to teach Yong Soo the art of horseback archery, after the boy’s incessant begging. Mongolia’s mounted archers were no doubt responsible for his Empire’s vast land holdings and conquests. They had range, speed, and flexibility, and were able to run circles around any unprepared opposition. It had been terrifying to face them, so of course Yong Soo held a healthy respect for their art. Part of him was eager to learn it for himself, if only so his own armies could one day use the Mongols’ strategies against them.

Batukhan did not seem concerned that his young pupil may one day use the art to try and drive him out and taught him just as he would have for any other soldier. Perhaps it was the fact that Yong Soo’s legs were still not quite long enough for his feet to sit comfortably in the stirrups that led Batukhan to offer up the knowledge so freely...

“You do well with a bow on the ground,” Batukhan stated, directing his horse to walk in pace next to Yong Soo’s. He had left all the body armor and extra equipment at home today and was wearing only a simple, white tunic. His hair was drawn into a loose braid, which swung lightly against his back with the horse’s steps. Without the full ensemble of his usual uniform, Batukhan seemed suddenly less scary and much more approachable.

“But that’s because you’re stable and only need to focus on the movement of your target,” he continued. “On horseback, you need to track your target’s movement as well as your own.”

Batukhan had set up a line of makeshift targets in front of them, old rice sacks stuffed with grass and twigs and painted with a target. He raised his bow, a sleek, curved composite of leather and horn, notched an arrow, and let it sail effortlessly into its target a few yards away. He urged his horse into a quick trot and fired arrows into the centers of the remaining targets in rapid succession.

“You must be strong in your core,” he said, gesturing to his abdomen as he lowered his bow and turned his horse around to face Yong Soo. “On the horse, that’s where your stability comes from. Don’t squeeze too hard with your legs.”

By now, Yong Soo’s horse had caught up, but Batukhan was already taking the horse’s reins and forcing him to turn back around.

“Now, you try,” he said, helping Yong Soo to direct his horse back in the other direction. He let go of the reins, and Yong Soo’s horse proceeded at a steady pace.

Yong Soo, eager to prove himself, raised his bow. He was quite proficient at it, on the ground at least. How different could it be?

He discovered very quickly that yes, it was quite different. Turning his upper body 90 degrees to face the targets immediately had him feeling off balance. Still, he was determined to at least look confident, so he bit his lip and let the arrow loose. As soon as he did, the force cause his upper body to rotate, his legs splaying out to his sides in an effort to keep his balance, and the arrow flew wildly off to the side.

“Strong core, Yong Soo,” Batukhan reminded him firmly.

Yong Soo bit his lip and readied the next arrow. Strong core. He tried clenching his abdomen, but it still did not feel right. It felt like his lower body was ungrounded. His feet, though they could reach the stirrups, did not quite settle into them firmly. Yong Soo rocked side to side, stretching his legs to try and make them go further, but it didn’t seem to help much. He flexed his core again, trying to keep from also squeezing his legs, and let the second arrow fly.

This time it at least landed close to the target, and Yong Soo spotted it sticking up from the ground near the target he’d intended to hit.

“Better,” Batukhan said from some distance away. “But you’re still not stable. You need to be rooted in your core.”

Third time’s the charm, right? Yong Soo thought to himself. Stability, stability. It was so easy on the ground. He shifted in the saddle again, stretching his legs down as far as they would go, until the foot on the same side as the targets settled more comfortably into the stirrup. Now Yong Soo felt he could settle his weight into it and—yes! Much more stable now. His confidence returned, and he readied another arrow, drew it back, flexed his core—and let it go.

At first, it seemed that Yong Soo had finally figured it out. The arrow embedded itself in the target, not in the center but at least not in the ground, but the backwards force of the bow on his arm knocked him off balance. He felt his weight shift first towards the horse and then overcorrected. He was leaning too far forward, all his weight pressed onto his forward foot as the foot on the side opposite completely lifted out of the stirrup. He felt himself slipping from the saddle and dropped his bow, his hands scrambling for a hold, body twisting back towards the horse—but it was too late. His stomach turned as gravity betrayed him, arms flailing out to his sides as they searched for the ground to break his fall. He held his breath waiting for impact and—something cracked.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, but the pain in his ankle, tangled in the stirrup and twisted unnaturally—would have done just the same.

“Yong Soo!” came Batukhan’s cry of concern, and he quickly dismounted his own horse to run to the boy’s aid.

Yong Soo’s horse—a well-trained, obedient creature, thankfully—had stopped and turned its head to nudge at the panicking Korean curiously with its nose. Yong Soo clawed at his leg, trying to free his twisted ankle from the stirrup and gasping as the movement only elicited more pain.

“Yong Soo!” Batukhan said, kneeling down and taking Yong Soo by the shoulders.

“I—I think I twisted my ankle,” Yong Soo panted, his voice shaking as he looked up at his leg, his stomach turning at the sight of his toes facing the wrong direction.

“Yes, yes you did,” Batukhan said matter-of-factly, wisely positioning himself so that his body blocked Yong Soo’s view of his injury. He gently pushed Yong Soo’s upper body down to the ground. “Now, let’s take a deep breath.”

The Mongolian drew in an exaggerated breath, held it for a moment, and released it. At first, Yong Soo could only think of the pain in his leg, throbbing harder with every heartbeat. But Batukhan repeated his exaggerated breaths a few more times until he had Yong Soo doing it along with him.

“Right—now I want you to take the biggest breath you can, Yong Soo,” he said. “And when I count to three, force it back out as hard as you can, alright?”

Yong Soo nodded, and after a few shallower warm up breaths, he sucked in as much air as he could. His lungs burned with the pressure but he kept trying to breathe in more, even as Batukhan took Yong Soo’s injured leg in his hand, holding it in a firm grip just above the ankle. Pain shot down Yong Soo’s leg and he held the breath, grimacing.

Batukhan finally started counting.

“Let it out on three, alright? One, two—three.”

In one swift movement Batukhan popped the twisted foot out of the stirrup, and Yong Soo let out the breath with a strained cry of pain.

“Good,” Batukhan said, slowly lowering the leg down to the ground, though he had to gently push Yong Soo back when he again sat up, trying to get a look at the injury.

“Ah—no need,” Batukhan said. “How will looking at it help you? It will heal itself without the help of your eyes won’t it?”

Yong Soo frowned and laid back with a huff. His ankle throbbed, but it was slowly subsiding, no doubt as a result of the accelerated healing that beings like him were blessed with. After a few more breaths, he felt a bit stupid for being so panicked.

Batukhan sighed.

“You were cheating,” Batukhan said with a knowing tone.

“I wasn’t!” Yong Soo protested.

“You were!” Batukhan said, standing and reaching out a hand for Yong Soo to grab. Yong Soo took the hand and shifted his weight onto his good leg as Batukhan pulled him into a standing position.

“You know how I know?” Batukhan went on, letting Yong Soo lean on him for support as he walked him over to a nearby tree. “Because I left the stirrups unadjusted on purpose. You must be able to stabilize yourself without relying on your legs. If you were doing it correctly you would not need the stirrups at all.”

Yong Soo pouted, then winced as he stubbornly tried to put weight on his not-quite-healed leg.

“Sorry...” he muttered simply, the embarrassment of the whole fiasco now starting to settle in.

Batukhan let out another sigh as he helped Yong Soo sit down in the shade of the tree. Once Yong Soo was situated, Batukhan knelt next to him and began to wrap the injured (but now, thankfully, untwisted) ankle in a strip of leather for stability.

“It’s fine,” he said, his tone betraying a hint of softness. “It’s only your first day, after all.”

[banshee1013]

Fic - Sticky Sweet

Yesterday was the #DeanCasWedding, which of course means today must be - the #DeanCasHoneymoon! Written for the SPN Family Discord Valentine’s Exchange, this was not necessarily written as a honeymoon fic, but it works! Enjoy! 

Title: Sticky Sweet Rating: Teen Tags: Castiel/Dean, Camping, Tooth-rotting Fluff (literally) Word Count: 1768 Summary:  Dean has been introducing a newly-human Cas to human things - the latest: camping under the stars, complete with tent, campfire, and s'mores -- but Castiel has a surprise for Dean as well. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422437

==========================================

Dean holds on to the thin thread of his patience as he threads the tent pole through the seemingly unending number of loops running over the top side of the tent, grumbling to himself as he has to back the pole out due to missing a loop. Finally, the tent poles are in place and he uses the ties at the pinnacle of the tent to anchor where the tent poles meet and then stands, dusting off his knees. Starting at one corner, he pops the pole end into the tent foot, making his way around to all four corners until the tent is finally upright. He stands back and crosses his arms to admire his work, then looks around for Cas and smiles fondly when he sees him.

While he was pitching the tent (the thought makes him grin, of course), he had sent Cas out to find some firewood and to build the fire pit, handing him a small evac tool (basically a mini-shovel) to clear the ground where the pit would go and instructing him to find some nice round river rock from the small creek nearby to line it with. Cas had done spectacularly, a substantial stack of various sizes of tree branches and a three-ish foot circle of ground cleared nearby. Currently, the former angel was crouched on the ground next to a small pile of oval-shaped stones and was placing them in a ring around the cleared space with the precision one usually associates with engineering a spacecraft.

“Hey, Cas, that looks great! Can you come help me with the tent cover please?”

Cas looks up from his ring of stones, smiles and rises to his feet; but his brows pinch together as he looks past Dean and at the tent. “That does not look very secure, Dean. Are you sure it will remain stationary?”

Dean laughs and pulls Cas in for a hug as he approaches, then turns him around to face the tent, keeping an arm over his shoulder. “When we put the top cover on — that keeps moisture from rain and morning dew from getting inside — we’ll anchor it with those tent spikes,” he motions toward the four silver rods lying at each corner of the tent. “But I need help getting the cover on evenly.” Cas nods and heads toward the tent, Dean following and he can’t help but admire the view.

Dean has finally managed to rid him of the ubiquitous trench coat, suit, and tie, replacing it with a royal blue hoodie the color of his eyes and dark grey Henley, the sleeves pulled up to expose muscular forearms; and dark blue jeans that hug his surprisingly slender form — and does wonders for Dean’s libido. The fact that the trench coat and ill-fitting suit hid his drool-worthy body all this time is a travesty that Dean continually laments — but is glad to have rectified, especially as the jeans draw tight around those remarkably muscular thighs when Cas crouches down to inspect the tent spikes.

The sun is just starting to dip behind the trees and just then a shaft of light streaks through the branches, backlighting Cas in yellow-orange light and setting his dark brown head glowing like a halo, and Dean gasps at the sight. He’s absolutely gorgeous, how have I been so blind? Cas glances over his shoulder, head tilted and a puzzled look in his eye, the same shaft of light striking and turning them into blue fire.

Dean suddenly realizes he’s the luckiest sonuvabitch alive.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Blinking, Dean shakes his head and smiles, moving toward the tent. “Yeah… I’m great, Cas.” Kneeling down next to him, he takes Cas’ face in both hands and kisses him, soft and chaste… but the next thing Dean knows, he’s on his back with Cas over him, groaning against his lips as he deepens the kiss.

Cas finally breaks the kiss to gasp for air, and even though it’s literally the last thing he wants to do, Dean gently pushes him back. “We’re losing the light, sweetheart, and we gotta finish putting this tent together,” he gasps. Cas sighs and rises to his feet, offering a hand down to pull Dean up. They quickly get to work and in no time, the tent cover is pulled over the top and the tent staked down securely.

“Cas, can you finish with the campfire? I’m gonna get the rest of our camping stuff.” Dean rushes to the car to grab their sleeping bags, cooler, and Coleman grill — no way was he going to attempt to cook an actual meal over a campfire — while Cas finishes placing the stones around the cleared area and setting some of the firewood he’d gathered inside; smaller sticks on the bottom and tenting some of the larger pieces over the top. By the time Dean has returned and placed their sleeping bags inside the tent, Cas already has a nice fire going. Dean smiles as he sees Cas perched on the smooth log he’d managed to find, placed in front of the fire for them to sit on, and digs into the bag next to the cooler for the surprise he brought.

He joins Cas at the fire with his treasures in hand — two long metal sticks with handles, a bag of jumbo marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and several fun-sized Hersey chocolates. “Ever had s’mores, Cas?” he asks, setting the items down by the log before taking a seat next to him.

Cas leans over and glances at the items by Dean’s feet with that adorable head-tilt Dean loves. “I don’t believe I have.”

Dean smiles and leans over to kiss him quickly. “Well, then, you’re in for a treat.” He tears open the bag of marshmallows and plucks one out, spearing it on the stick and holding it over the fire. “The trick is to get it close enough to the fire for it to melt and char a little. Don’t let it stay still or it’ll burn and that’s no good.” He demonstrates, twirling the marshmallow over the fire until it’s golden brown.

“Now, grab one of the graham crackers, snap it in half, and unwrap the chocolate.” Cas follows his instructions as Dean pulls the marshmallow from the fire. “Okay, place the chocolate on one half of the graham cracker…” Cas does and Dean maneuvers the marshmallow over the chocolate and cracker, “... now pinch it with the other half of the graham cracker.” With his free hand, Dean reaches over to cover Cas’ hand with his own to show him how to squish the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate and pulls the stick free.

Cas looks at the s’more in his hand, turning it this way and that as chocolate melted by the hot marshmallow begins to drip. “Quick! Eat it!” Dean nudges his hand toward his mouth and Cas takes a big bite, the gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate squirting out from the other side and onto his hand.

Cas finishes the bite, but then frowns. “It’s very good,” he comments, the frown intensifying as the chocolate and marshmallow start to slide down his arm, “but it’s also very messy.”

Dean is not about to miss this opportunity, grabbing Cas’ arm and running his tongue up it, lapping up the melted marshmallow and chocolate, his eyes never leaving Cas’ face and feeling the flush crawl up his neck at the heat reflected there — and not just from the proximity of the fire. Taking the remaining portion of the s’more into his mouth, he sucks the remaining marshmallow and chocolate from Cas’ fingers, running his tongue in and around them and taking immense pleasure in the way Cas’ breath hitches.

No sooner has he finished swallowing the bite than Cas has him on his back in front of the log, mouth on his and licking the sweetness from it; his body warm and firm against his, and Dean can’t stifle the moan that follows.

Cas finally pulls back, his cheeks flushed and breath harsh. “I would like another, please.”

Awhile later, sated on s’mores and kisses, Dean leans against the log between Cas’ knees, head resting on a thick thigh as Cas runs a (thankfully clean due to the wet wipes Dean had the foresight to pack) hand through his hair. His eyes are getting heavy and the last thing he wants to do right now is move.

Cas has other ideas.

“Dean, I need to get up.” Dean groans and grips his thigh in protest, but Cas is insistent. “I won’t be long, I promise.” With an exaggerated sigh, Dean releases his grip on Cas’ thigh and lifts his head, and Cas rises from the log and disappears into the darkness behind them. He hears the trunk of the Impala open, a rustling of fabric, and the trunk shutting again; then Cas is back. Dean watches as he lays a blanket on the ground on the other side of the fire opposite the log. Sitting on the blanket with his legs spread, he pats the area in between.

Dean gets the message. He crawls around the fire to where Cas sits and nestles himself in the proffered area on the blanket, his back to Cas’ broad chest, and leans back, closing his eyes. From behind them, he feels Cas’ arms reach behind on either side, pulling something up over his shoulders.

“The thing I miss the most since losing my Grace,” he says quietly, haltingly, “is holding you with my wings.” He sighs, and Dean hears more rustling, this time sounding like… feathers? The rustling pulls around them, followed by encompassing warmth; and Dean opens his eyes gasping at the sight of black feathers wrapped around him, brilliant blues and greens and scattered flecks of gold shining in the firelight.

“Even though they were not corporeal, and not technically consisting of cormorant feathers, I knew you could still feel them — and this was the best representation I could find,” he said as he spreads the blanket of feathers fully around them, pulling Dean close and laying his cheek against the crown of his head.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat as he’s suffused in the warmth of the feathers and Cas’ body. His hands grasp Cas’ wrists and pulls him tighter.

“This is amazing,” he says, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. “I love you so much, Cas.”

He feels Cas’ smile against the top of his head, then lips pressed against his temple. “And I, you, Dean.”

[undertaker1827]

May I request a fluffy Claude Faustus?

Why yes you can!! Sorry this took so long!

Masterlist

-

“Claaaaaude,” whined a petulant, childish voice, always demanding attention and never giving up until he got it. The demon in question sighed quietly through his nose, annoyance burning through his veins as he wondered if any meal was worth this. His contractor had been alone for a total of four minutes and thirty seconds. Claude has just seen him to take away what was left of his lunch, which the boy claimed was too salty in some places, too sweet in others. Quite frankly, the demon couldn’t care less about the state of the food, though he cared very much about the headache Alois gave him if it wasn’t just perfect.

“Master,” the butler greeted as he reached the door, giving a low bow before stepping into Alois’ study.

“I want to go for a walk.” Claude blinked, ignoring the bluntness of the statement as usual, before stating the idea sounded refreshing. “But I want to go with you!”

A good three hours later and the pair finally returned, the demon’s headache now verging on a migraine. The walk had taken them into the evening, yet it was another two hours before he finally managed to get away from Alois. He’d made up some story or other about needing to buy food and that the boy would have to stay with Hannah and the triplets until he got back. Then, in the secure knowledge that the manor had stocked up on enough food for the next week at least, he quickly set off in the opposite direction, arriving at your house just a short while later.

You jumped slightly at the brisk, efficient knock on your door, then went to answer it promptly. You had just been enjoying a relaxing cup of tea, but decided that whoever was waiting outside seemed in a considerably hurry and you weren’t going to be the one to hold them up. As it was, Claude was in a hurry, just not the type you were expecting.

You opened the door with a polite smile across your features, a ‘Hello, can I help you?’ already on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t even manage to get a word out before Claude strode inside, pushing the door shut with the heel of his polished shoe and wrapping his arms around your waist. He was kissing you in an instant, a hand moving to gently caress the back of your head and the other holding you close to him. Your hands moved to his shoulders automatically and you smiled into the kiss. You knew how little time Claude got to himself and knowing that he wanted to spend it with you made you feel warm inside. You eventually had to move back for air, even if he didn’t, but you rested your forehead against his, eyes locked. A touch of crimson was just starting to stain the edges of his irises, something you thought of as a representation of his protective streak.

“Hi,” you whispered, still breathless and thrilled by this unexpected visit.

“Y/N,” he drawled in return. His arms trapped yours against your sides as he drew you closer into a tight hug, chin pressing down on top of your head. He didn’t say he missed you, but the sentiment was all but tangible in the air around you. The demon seemed content to just stand there for a while and you certainly weren’t complaining. You knew how annoying Alois could be to him and you also knew your presence helped him to relax. He sighed deeply to release the remainders of negativity the day had left behind then squeezed you one more time before letting go, though you found your shoulders were still touching.

“Are you staying?” You asked, slightly hesitant in case he said had had to go immediately, lest he be missed at the Trancy manor.

“I have about an hour, assuming nothing happens in my absence,” he told you, wishing sincerely that this wasn’t the case. You all but grinned at the statement; he was never able to be with you for that long.

“Then do come in,” you joked, waving an arm towards where you had been sitting before he arrived. Claude gently raised his hand to your lower back to direct you back to the couch, following immediately afterwards. You intended to sit on the other end of the sofa to give him space, but he pulled you down right next to him before you could. Smiling, you curled into his side and rested your head on his shoulder. The demon sighed again, more quietly this time, then left a quick kiss on your temple.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, knowing how difficult dealing with Alois all day could be for him. Your question was met with slightly widened gold eyes; Claude looked genuinely surprised. You frowned a little, starting to wonder if you said something wrong. You were about to ask as much when the demon blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his trance.

“I-sorry,” he told you, “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” Something clocked in you mind then and you realised you were probably the only person in his life who asked about his feelings, let alone who genuinely cared about the answer. You gave a small smile and rested your hand on his elbow.

“You know you can always talk to me about how you feel, don’t you? I really do want to know.” Claude took a while to answer again, but moved a hand to rest on top of yours in the meantime.

“I do, Y/N,” he murmured, “thank you.”

[marvelousstevetony]

No one asked for this but I just had a cute thought about sick, grumpy Tony and Steve being both a tease and a total sweetheart. So yeah, this is what happened...

Steve/Tony, first kiss/getting together...

—————————

“Bless you,” Steve said, not looking up from his book when Tony let out a quiet sneeze from the opposite end of the couch. 

The brunette didn’t respond, just kept his focus on the StarkPad in his hands, his eyes running down the screen, moving quickly from side to side. His fingers were tapping uncontrollably, the crease between his eyebrow intensifying the longer he went on. His tongue peeked out through his lips, a sign of deep concentration and, to some degree, stress.

It was uncharacteristically quiet in the Avengers Tower this Saturday afternoon; Thor was off-world doing Thor-stuff (Steve had quickly learned not to ask too much — he struggled enough with adapting to the 21st as it was, no need to add the rest of the Universe to Steve’s must-catch-up-on-list. Not yet, at least). 

Bruce was somewhere in Asia last time Steve spoke to him. He’d said something about science that Steve hadn’t understood, but he knew how happy it made Bruce to have someone to talk to when Tony wasn’t available, even if Steve didn’t quite follow his rambles with all the scientific terms. 

Natasha and Clint were off on a mission, undercover, Steve presumed. He wasn’t told anything else apart from the fact that assistance from the rest of the team wasn’t necessary, so it was probably some sort of stealth-mission (there’s not really anything secretive about the Hulk or Thor or Iron Man, so Steve got why the two super-assassins were chosen for the job).

But that left Steve and Tony. Tony was, as expected, always working regardless of the other Avengers. There was always something with Stark Industries, even on the weekends when he was actually allowed to take some time off. Another idea he just couldn’t put down, another minor imperfection he had to fix, another deadline Tony definitely couldn’t miss if he wanted to stay clear of an angry Pepper. Tonight, the latter seemed to be the case. 

And Steve… Well, Steve really hadn’t much to do. He went on his daily run, the running dead as Tony so cheerfully labelled it (Steve got the reference), and he’d even spent a few hours in the gym afterwards. But Steve was after all a grandpa, again dubbed by the Man of Iron himself, who woke up at 6 AM every day, and that left him with a lot of time to work out before any of the other Avengers saw the daylight. When the clock struck 11 AM Steve had usually finished with his daily routine, and on quiet weekends like this he really had nothing better to do than to read one of the many books that had gotten released while he was in the ice. 

This one was a suggestion from Clint. Steve had been reluctant at first, because what’s so special about Harry Potter? Isn’t it just a lot of unrealistic and magical nonsense? But he’d given in when Clint had lectured him about how Harry Potter is so much more than just magic; it’s a separate Universe, an escapism, the greatest book-series ever written! And Steve must admit, there was something quite exceptional about it. Not that he’d ever tell Clint that he was right. 

“Tschh’uh!” 

This time Steve looked up to find Tony with his face buried in the crook of his elbow, pressed into the soft material of his oversized hoodie. 

“Bless you,” Steve offered again, trying to catch Tony’s gaze but inevitably failing to do so when Tony not so much as acknowledged Steve’s comment. He just sniffed once and then turned back to the screen. 

Steve’s eyes were locked on Tony a few more seconds before returning to part where Harry, Ron and Hermione were brewing the Polyjuice Potion. He didn’t get very far, though, as another set of sneezes commanded his attention.

“eh- eptCH’hh! snfSNF! huh-uhHISH’oo!”

Tony let out two sneezes in rapid succession, his entire body shuddered as he let the release overcome him. The short build-up had warned Steve just in time to see the genius’ face crumble, raising his arm to shield his surroundings. 

Tony groaned lowly, obviously trying to avoid Steve noticing, but the blonde just raised an eyebrow at the miserable man in front of him; nose bright red, eyes watery, hair disheveled, and overall a good representation of what Steve thought to be a complete mess. 

When Tony sniffed harshly, supposedly to stifle another bout of exasperated sneezes, Steve untangled his and Tony legs — he hadn’t even noticed the fact that their legs had been wrapped in each other’s, touching gently — got up from the couch, and stepped out of the living room.

As soon as Steve was out of sight, Tony quickly wiped his nose with the cuff of his hoodie and scrubbed his face, secretively, so Steve’s wouldn’t think more of it. 

A few moments later, Steve re-entered with a glass of water and a box of tissues, dropping the latter into Tony’s lap and setting the glass down on the coffee table. He then leaned back into the softness of the cushions and continued reading. 

Not even two minutes after, he heard a muttered for fucks sake and raised his eyes only to see Tony’s eyelids fluttering and his nostrils visibly trembling.

“Huh- Hh! Hdt’shh! Huh’USH!”

Tony sneezed off to the side, once again aiming at his elbow. 

“Bless you, Tony,” Steve sighed and audibly closed his book, crossed his arms, and cocked an eyebrow at his suffering friend.

For the first time, Tony looked up at him, rolling his eyes.

“Y’know, there’s a reason I went to get you tissues,” Steve quipped and nodded towards the small, blue box. “So you’d use them.”

“And there’s a reason I’m not using them, Steven. snfSNFF! They’re not necessary,” Tony replied, unconsciously swabbing at his nose again.

“Oh yeah? I think that sniffle and the fact that you’re rubbing at your nose right this second tell me otherwise,” Steve’s smirk widened when Tony quickly drew his hand away from his face, “oh, and never mind the continuous sneezing, of course.”

Tony rolled his eyes once again, and Steve chuckled lightly. “Seems like someone’s caught a cold,” he said more like a statement than a question.

“It’s just allergies,” the older man shrugged nonchalantly, closely followed by a full-body shiver. 

“Allergies?” Steve questioned curiously and Tony hummed in confirmation. “Since when does allergies cause a fever?”

Tony frowned and crossed his arms defensively. “I don’t have a fever, Cap. I’m perfectly healthy. As right as rain,” he assured with a fake confidence that made Steve grin.

“You’re a terrible liar, Stark. I can literally feel the heat radiating off from you,” Steve insisted, “and I think those shivers are a pretty clear give-away.” 

“It’s cold in here. Not everyone’s their own personal furnace,” Tony snarked, and Steve’s lips curled upwards. “I think I juh- snff! just forgot to c-close the wihhii- heESHHsuuuh! Ugh.”

Tony groaned and threw his head back after fighting a loosing battle against the insistent tickle. He’d just managed to fight it off long enough to once again bring his arms to his face.

Steve reached out for the tissue box, and instead of grabbing one and handing it to the man in need, he threw the entire box at him, hitting him on the shoulder. “Then stop sneezing for God’s sake!” Steve said playfully.

“Ow!” Tony mocked a whine, but he couldn’t help but smile. “You can’t just throw random objects at me, that’s basically abuse.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head fondly, once again reaching out for the box that had landed on the floor, and this time, he did pull out a few and offered them to Tony, who was reluctant at first but accepted them just as his breath started catching again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cupped his nose and mouth with the tissues, giving into the outburst. His body doubled over with the force of three strong sneezes, leaving him woozy and glassy-eyes.

“Jesus, Tony, bless you,” Steve said, sounding more concerned this time. 

“Christ, Rogers, would you stop saying that?” Tony grumbled, rejecting the sympathy Steve’s sparkling eyes and soft, gentle voice exuded. 

“You need to rest, Tony,” Steve ignored Tony’s request, the tone of his voice leaving no room for discussion. “You can finish whatever you’re working on later when you’re feeling be-“

“I’m fine, Steve!” Tony interrupted with an annoyed ring to his voice, making Steve roll his eyes and clench his jaw in frustration. “Besides, if I don’t finish this before 6 PM Pepper will literally rip my head off and then I would be even less fine.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tony, give yourself a break, would ya?” Steve cursed unintentionally, at which Tony’s raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick!” The genius snapped and was then launched into a violent coughing fit, bending over in pain, clutching his chest tightly as he wheezed.

Steve rushed from his end of the couch to Tony’s side, protectively laying an arms around the older man’s waist and grabbed the glass of water from the table. When the coughing died down and Tony could breathe normally again, Steve handed him the drink persistently. This time, Tony didn’t put up a fight.

“Thanks,” he mumbled after taking a careful sip, the cool liquid soothing his throat. 

“Of course,” Steve spoke softly, rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down Tony’s lower back. “So, what were you saying about not being sick?”

Tony elbowed Steve in the stomach but it really didn’t give off the effect Tony had wanted it to as hitting Steve’s rock-solid abs sent a stab up through Tony’s arm, like had he smacked it into concrete. He didn’t want to give Steve that satisfaction though, so he bit back the pain. “Shut up… it’s just a cold.” Tony admitted, going a little shy.

Steve just chuckled and smiled dopily, that half-smile Tony had always loved.

“I’ll talk to Pepper. You shouldn’t overwork yourself, especially not in this state.”

Their eyes locked for a second and Tony felt the blood stream to his cheeks. If anyone asked, it was from the fever. But come on, how could he do anything but blush when Steve looked at him like that, with his ocean blue eyes, his blinding smile and that all-American boyish charm? God, Tony was so screwed. 

Suddenly, they both realized how close they were; Steve’s hand still resting on the small of Tony’s back, their faces no more than an inch apart, eyes staring deeply into each other, and before they knew it, Tony’s lips were on Steve’s, placing a gentle kiss onto them.

It was Tony who pulled away after abut 5 seconds, causing Steve’s head to fall slightly forward into the air, prompting him to open his eyes. 

“h-tSCHH’ew! Oh… heh- etsch’uh!”

Bursting into laughter, Steve wrapped both arms around Tony, pulling him into a squished hug. “Was kissing me really that bad?” 

Tony also laughed, the tension from earlier completely gone by now, transformed into playful flirtation. “Yes, Steve, yes it was. I think you need another try, you know, to make it better,” Tony said, batting his eyelashes and smirked smugly.

“It’d be my pleasure.” The smile was present in Steve’s voice as he leant in closer, brushing his nose against Tony’s bright pink one. “Bless you, by the way,” he mumbled onto the brunette’s mouth before softly pressing their lips together again.

[imnotwolverine]

White gulls

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: Its been raining all weekend, so I needed all the sun flooded heart buzzing fluff I could fit into one chapter. And BOI has it become fluffy. I hope you enjoy! Have a lovely Sunday everyone <3 

Word count: 3.061

Disclaimer: fluffff

--

This is part 20 of the Tea for Two series.

Find the Masterlist here. 

-- 

< Go back to part 19

Salt.

Sun.

The sensation of a soft, lukewarm wind on toasty skin.

A lushious towel, its soft weft protecting me from the seething hot, wooden deck.

Gulls, screeching atop our heads.

And the sea. Its waves softly breaking against the boat’s bow.

I turned the page on the book I was reading and looked over at Henry, his satisfied face poking out from the shimmering water as he floated around in the pale blue sea. Cute bear. 

He looked so very relaxed, a soft smile playing on his lips as his eyes tracked the gulls that were flying big circles through the sky, his hands languidly paddling through the Aegean sea water.

We had agreed on taking some holidays after the production for the Witcher had wrapped up. And though I had been apprehensive - I loved working JUST a bit too much - Henry was quick to veto his vote. 

‘I’ll organise everything.’ He had stated simply. And so he did. And here we were. In Greece, on a private yacht. Which is totally, totally ridiculous, but…whatever. Life was never truly normal with Henry in it.

Our days were spent eating freshly caught fish, learning some Greek words from the ship’s crew, meandering through small harbour towns and swimming. Lots and lots of swimming. I, especially, since I was struggling to keep my cool in these high temperatures. 

Talking about which.

I checked the page number of my book and closed it, crawling up from my towel and readjusting my bikini before quickly tiptoeing over the burning hot wood to the back end of the deck. I squealed, feeling my feet almost melt as my skin touched the wood, the arduous journey becoming even more complicated as the boat shimmied in irregular patterns, making me wobble unsteadily on my half-sleeping legs. 

‘Oh fuck fuck fuck.’ I cursed under my breath, before finally finding a more comfortable spot to stand on.

‘..You okay there love?’ The wind carried Henry’s deep baritone voice to my ears as I stretched myself out, looking for a good spot to jump into the water. Ha. I could jump almost right next to Henry without him seeing, his eyes still peering up at the sky.

‘Yes dear.’ I said sweetly, before pushing myself off the deck, landing a little distance away from Henry in the cool, cool water.

‘OI! You little..’ He quickly turned, spluttering out the water that had gotten into his mouth as he reached out an arm for me. I squealed as I tried to make a swim for it, my blubbery legs unfortunately letting me down.

In no time I was wrapped in Henry’s iron grip and my body shuddered. Be it because of the cool water, or the fact I was a prisoner to his will now.

‘..little vixen.’ He breathed in my ear, nipping at my earlobe playfully. I laughed and bit my lip, turning my head towards him as far as I could, my back still pulled flush against his chest.

‘What?’ I said, feigning innocence.

‘You know what.’ He growled.

‘It’s not like you got any wetter.’ I shrugged, feeling a dry chuckle reverberating through his chest.

‘Mhm..’ He hummed, one of his hands now reaching down for my fabric covered crotch, a teasing finger pressing against my clit, making me shiver again.

‘BEAR!’ I gasped.

‘What? It’s not like you can get any wetter…hmm?’ He nuzzled my neck, his finger continuing to make small circles over my nub.

I squirmed, my legs kicking out as I felt my breath hitch. ‘..Hen…’ I rolled my eyes back, my oversensitive flesh yielding much to quickly to his touch. 

Gods..this man.

Electricity started to bubble up in my pinky toes, licking up my calves, washing over my thighs before knotting up in a tight coil in my core. I let out a low moan before being suddenly interrupted by another large spray of water that took us both by surprise.

‘Kal…’ Henry chuckled, the big dog apparently not wanting to miss out on whatever fun we were having as he had just now also launched himself in the water. 

Henry released me from his grip and greeted the large akita as he circled towards us, large paws kicking the water as his fur clouded around him, making him look even bigger.

‘Saved by the Kal.’ I chuckled, earning a teasing smirk from Henry as he scratched Kal. ‘You just wait.’ He winked.

—

‘A shot to good health!’ Felipe, the captain smiled as he pressed a shot glass of Ouzo in my hand. I smiled, raising the small glass and clinking it with his before taking a small sip. The captain wasn’t quite as subtle however, taking a good long swig of the strong liquor. 

I studied the way he hollowed his cheeks and let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes shimmering as he gazed back over the water, checking if all was well. If you thought of a captain of the ship, this is probably what popped up in your head. His skin looked almost leather like, his eyes soft and dark brown, most of his face hidden behind a well trimmed, greying beard. 

And, Felipe was a jovial, romantic spirit. He spoke in great length of local history, myths and legends and seemed to know this sea better than his women - which he had..plenty of..if his stories were anything to go by.

We had just finished another delicious lunch that the cook had prepared - like…totally ridiculous..we had a cook on board - and Henry, Kal and one of the crew members had made it to shore so Kal could do his business, the boat now languidly gliding over the water, waiting for them to return.

Felipe tapped my shoulder, alerting me to follow his pointing finger.

‘See there? Those are white seagulls. Lovers. See the way they circle each other?’ He sat down besides me on the blue and white striped pillows, keeping his gaze fixed at the birds. The birds tilted their heads at each other, dancing on the wind as their wings twisted and turned.

I smiled, the birds reminding me of the dream I had that night.

‘I actually..dreamt of white gulls last night.’ I hummed, taking another sip of the Ouzo, the liquor burning a trail through the back of my throat.

‘Oh! Tell, tell! What is it you dreamed about?’ Felipe turned his warm, curious eyes at me, studying the way I now looked at the glass in my hand.

‘I eh…was standing on a rocky shore, alone. A seashore I think, though I can’t remember seeing a sea. And everything around me was big, blue.. cloudless sky, the only sound I heard being the screeching of gulls. Two gulls. Circling above me just like they do now.’ I looked up as the birds made a bit of a dive, their little feet almost touching the water before circling back up again.

‘Just two of them?’

‘Yea..two gulls. It was quite nice to watch..but weird as well. Usually my dreams are a whole lot more busy, action packed..haha.’

‘Hmmm. Well, it is a good sign.’ He nodded, taking a last swig of his drink and pushing the glass on his table.

‘How so?’ I asked, looking over at the captain as he let his hand slip down from the glass, his fingers spreading on the table.

‘We greeks believe that dreaming about two seagulls means you have met..or WILL soon meet..your one true love. They are a representation of eternal love…marital bliss even.’ He sighed, a satisfied grin appearing on his lips as he quirked his head towards the beach where Henry was strolling.  

‘I see.’ I said slowly, looking back over my shoulder to see Henry and Kal running around on the beach, Kal jumping up at a piece of driftwood that was thrown. A soft smile curled on my lips. ‘I see.’

—

We had come to shore for a day, our feet now flip-flopping over the promenade while watching the locals be about their business - selling small trinkets and ice cream, chatting on the docks, fixing fishing nets.

Henry glanced over at me, smiling.

‘Hi.’ I said impishly, smiling back.

‘Hi.’ He said, his voice smooth as butter.

We smiled almost stupidly, lost in each others eyes for a moment as we walked into a secluded little bay.

‘Even now, with you just looking at me, you can make my stomach flutter.’ I said, sniffling shyly and folding my hand around his before leaning my head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of my head. ‘Good.’ He hummed, his hand squeezing mine gently.

‘I can no longer imagine a life without you.’ He said as I lifted my head back up.

‘Not even when I steal all the blankets?’ I jested. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, don’t tease me little she-devil!’

Without warning he lifted me up and over his shoulder. I shrieked.

‘Nooo HEN! Put me down!’ I kicked my feet haphazardly, both our flipflops now discarded on the beach.

‘Perhaps a swim?’ He suggested, walking towards the water. I tried to worm out of his tight grasp, but to no avail.

‘Oh you wouldn’t dare.’ I challenged.

He however didn’t stop as the water moved passed his calves, his hand now playfully patting my butt.

‘Then no more blanket stealing?’ He rumbled.

I chuckled and finally managed to wiggle out of his grasp as a surprise wave hit him, making him lose his balance for a split second.

Quickly I strode further into the water, up to my waist, before turning back towards him.

‘Never!’ I said exasperated, laughing, letting myself slip fully into the water, my summer dress now pooling around me like a colourful cloud. He joined me, rolling his eyes at my cheekiness.

Within moments I was back in his grasp.

Our lips connected. Eager tongues fighting as I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling him as he pressed his groin into me. He let out a low moan, feeling the friction as I pulled him even closer in the hook of my legs, his eyes quickly darkening.

‘No blankets needed here.’ I said, quirking up an eyebrow. He tilted his head, unbelieving, his eyes quickly looking over my shoulder at the shoreline.

It was practically deserted, two fishermen just walking around the corner out of sight. The shutters of all the few houses here closed to keep out the heat.

I kissed his neck to regain his attention, sucking the sensitive skin behind his ear and earning a low moan from him.

‘You’re my undoing!’ He groaned, wrapping his hands around my buttocks and steadying my shimmying hips. I sniggered playfully.

‘Mmhmm.’ I hummed, catching his lips again.

It took but a few seconds for him to pull down his slacks and move aside my panties, his erection springing free before delving into me. The water caused an unfamiliar friction, making us groan as he slowly pushed inside. ‘Mmmppfff.’ He hissed, catching my lips again before I would moan too loudly.

We mostly just stayed like that while our lips discovered every little bit of skin, the salt sticking to our lips as his hips ever so slightly gyrated against my core. I fluttered my walls around him, making him moan, his lips curling into a smile. ‘Positive side effects of core workouts.’ I whispered in his ear, earning one of his breathy laughs.

Not long after he came, the friction just too overwhelming, his legs shivering. He moved his hand to my nub, but I stopped him. ‘Later.’ I hinted at some people just walking past the corner of the small bay. He sniggered, still somewhat shivery and his cheeks flush with embarrassment, his arms keeping me closely tucked to his chest.

I unwrapped my legs and looked for the bottom of the sea shore, the small sand grains melting between my toes again as I found my footing, the water washing our sweet sins away. 

We kissed while Henry manoeuvred his pants back on and I moved my panties back in place - all while trying to not catch the attention at the people who were now strolling on the beach. We chuckled quietly, seeing the people move at an excruciatingly slow tempo, both our cheeks pink with embarrassment.  

‘Well that was naughty.’ He said, still a bit flustered. We kissed again.

‘I love you.’ I hummed, smiling at him. He cupped my face, looking into my eyes. Deeply. His ocean blue eyes almost burning into my green eyes. Not saying a thing. He just..looked at me, his breath still a slight bit irregular. He clenched his jaw, leaning his forehead against mine as he continued to look at me. ‘Be mine.’ He whispered. 

I leaned back against his forehead, closing my eyes, feeling his hands still cupping my jaw with a certain need. As if he was scared I would vanish, if not for his tight grip. ‘I am yours.’ I whispered in turn. He was quiet for a moment before he nodded, kissing me.

I could feel he was not saying something he really wished to say. But I figured, as is with all men, it just needed some time to turn into words. I cupped his face in return. ‘I am yours.’ I said with a touch more seriousness, looking back up into his eyes. His thought stricken face melted into one of love.

—

We had left the boat behind us as we had reached our last destination; a small harbour town with thousands of white-painted houses that seemed to grow like mushrooms from a steep rocky shoreline. The sun was currently sinking further and further to the horizon as our feet carried us through the narrow streets, our hands interlocked as Henry guided me to another one of his “little surprises”.

I didn’t really know what to expect, but apparently a “little surprise” meant in this case an absolutely lovely, completely private dinner with view of the sunset, the small terrace hewn from the coast rock itself. I hugged him, endeared by the gesture. 

‘This is…a-ma-zing.’ I said exasperated, looking out over the railing to see the waves clashing against the rock below. My eyes probably spoke a thousand words, because Henry could only just smile broadly, proud of his present.

We sat down and a waiter came up to us in full black tux, pouring us some champagne, before quickly shuffling off through a small gate in the back.

We raised our glasses. ‘To life and to love.’ Henry said, our glasses clinking. I sipped the champagne, looking back at the sun, the sky now slowly turning deep hues of pink. And once more two gulls were floating in the soft evening wind. 

How fitting.

‘Reminds me of when we met.’ I said, smiling happily before looking back at him, reminiscing that early morning hike in LA. He smiled sweetly, his nostrils flaring.

Strange…Was he uncomfortable? He always did that when he was uncomfortable...His shirt too tight? Too hot? I can’t be right...My thoughts rolled over in my mind as I studied him. No amount of acting classes could hide from me that something was up with him.

He was now also looking out at the sunset, his hands clenching his glass in a death grip and.. did I see a certain …worry.. in his eyes? He looked back at me, his smile growing wider, before realising I was noticing his discomfort, my eyes glancing down at his clutching hands. He grinned, as if caught, nodding, then took a deep, deep breath.

‘Go ahead then, spill the beans.’ I said, knowing something was up while looking at him with studious eyes.

He looked back at me too, our eyes meeting, and love melted back into his blues. Those big, anxious, puppy eyes. Gosh. He is so..nervous? Whatever it was: it was endearing. He moved his chair back, taking my hands and pulling me up, his eyes looking at me studiously as I quickly straightened my dress, confused as to why he wanted us to get up. 

‘My sweetest, sweetest Lisa. Not in my long life have I felt so nervous about asking anyone such a question.’ He smiled. I smiled in return, peering into his eyes while squeezing his hands, my heartbeat slowly raising.

Our eyes delved deeper and deeper into one another as he continued.

Was he...?

‘We have this most wonderful, relaxed…well-balanced relationship. I just honestly didn’t even know I could have that. But here we are..’ He gestured at the sea with a quick raise of his hand, as he took another quick breath, swallowing his nerves.

Is he..?

‘I do not wish anything more then for this to never end. For us to see a thousand sunsets together, if life allows..’ He sank down on one knee, looking up at me.

OH BOI.

My heart started to flutter like a captured bird, restless and begging to be released, my lip suddenly trembling with emotion.

‘Would you dear Lisa, please, marry me?’

I felt a tear burning as I started to nod feverishly. ‘Yes, yes you fool.’ I laughed, the tears slowly flowing down my cheek as I threw myself in his arms. The air was suddenly so thick and heavy I couldn’t even stand on my own legs anymore, my full weight now hanging onto Henry as he remained there on one knee, quickly capturing me in his arms. 

We kissed, laughing giddily and gasping for breath, our lips curling in such broad smiles it hurt our cheeks.

He finally settled me more comfortably on his knee as he moved one of his hands down a pocket, reaching for a ..marker?

He held it up. ‘No ring.’ He smiled with boyish enthusiasm, carefully taking my left ring finger and drawing a black band with his initials in it. I laughed, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, a smile etched on my cheeks as I looked at him as he drew on the band.  

He put the marker back in his pocket, blowing gently over the ink, before kissing it, his eyes interlocking with mine again. 

This was it. I realised. 

Forever.

The two white gulls that were now circling the burning skies, our witnesses.

--

Epilogue >

[kanene-yaaay]

Just like a dream [Or Cuddles - 15º Tickletober]

Kanene’s note: I am sad so I thought  ‘h e y! What if I translated one of my fluff tickle-fanfic to light my day?’, so here are we!! This is a pure gold cute fluff, and a bit of angst in the beginning, but do not worry! The prince is here to save the day!! *dramatic glitter pose* 

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Patton and Ler!Roman (It can be seen as Romantic or Platonic Royality). 

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* I just realize I’m in love with Lee!Patton. And Roman here is an absolutely adorable ler. Someday will make a teasy tickle fanfic, I promisse xDDD.

* E a versão em português brasileiro!  Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, take a good rest, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

                                 [~*~]

He took a deep breath and bolted into the room, closed the door, sighed in relief and gave up in controlling his tears, so they fell.

And fell and feel and fell as he let himself collapse in that cold, strangely relaxing, floor.

It was just that. Just fell. Just washed his so hurted soul, just showed the feeling which he so hard tried to not hide anymore, just poured in a flow that wandered through all his face until finally drop.

He tried to sniffle quietly, he really tried since he kept in mind that the bathroom wasn’t soundproof. However, he was the heart, the core of all the emotions, the guardian of feelings, for a reason. He lived them more intensely, felt them more immensely.

Albeit, he also knew the others sides were busy, so he had nothing to worry about. 

That was why he took all the time he needed, wanted. Half hour, one hour, one quarter of hour… It didn’t mattered. 

Patton didn't leave until the last drop fell.

The representation of morality got up, wobbly legs, took off his glasses and cleaned their lenses in his cardigan. He took deep breaths one, two, three times.

And a couple more.

He headed to the sink and washed his face, yet knowing that it didn’t changed in the slightest the swelling and redness which his features assumpted after cryings like that. He stared his reflection, an analysing glare. A few hours of funny cute videos would do. He would get some snacks in the kitchen when only his eyes still red and were easier to not be seen… Not that he wanted to hide it from the others, he just didn’t wanted to… show it.

And after all of this he would try to summon a night movie and sleep cuddling someone.

Yeah, he nodded to himself. This sounded to be ideal. A shadow of a smile appeared in his lips.

Patton turned around and opened the door, founding a Roman about to knock.

Their glares met in the same exact heartbeat, both equally astonished. Patton felt himself to paralyse before his instincts of flight took over, prompting him to quickly run back to the bathroom and lock himself inside.

Breathed in. Breathed out. In. Out. Repeated this movement three times more, seeking to calm his fast heartbeating and the adrenaline in his blood. He knew the other was still out there, knew that he would have questions and that he would have to explain himself, that he would have to let Roman into this complex mess who he was.

But he also would have comfort, would have company and human warmth and… affection.

He reminded the other’s look: scared, alarmed, worried.

Patton pinched the tip of his nose, adjusted his glasses and cardigan, took a deep breath and a part of him wondered if Roman was still out there.

He opened the door.

He was. 

Patton’s heart stopped, melting and the guardian of dreams and passion didn’t uttered a one single word, which was rare for him, only opened his arms in a gentle glare and a silent plead.

The moral aspect hugged him quick and strong, his hands holding the fabric of his shirt as tightly as possible and the tears he didn't even know were still there coming back.

The aspirant of royalty drowned in silence, his arms involving him entirely, a hand gently  stroking his back and the other lightly combing his hair. His chin rested in the other’s head as he hummed lowly a random song and rocked the parental figure with such tenderness too much pure to be described.

As sudden as it started the teary flow stopped, which didn’t meant the end of the hug or the careness, just the song, a few minutes later, which was switched by the velvety low tune from Roman. Patton was even more surprised.

- What happened, padre?

- Just that sudden sadness, you know, Ro-ro?

- I do.

Princey started to massaged his scalp and Patton felt all his muscles automatically relax; He let himself to be transported to some place and when opened his eyes, he was laid in Roman’s extremely soft and gigantic if compared to any other from the Mind Palace, bed.

- Now we shall watch a movie! - A flourish and a big television appeared in the wall at the same time dozens of sweets and snacks surrounded them. - Disney? Comedy? Action? Romance? Pixar? - The said shone in the device for a second before being replaced for another. The representation of creativity turned, a bright and nurturing glare, a smile which seemed to demonstrate all his love. - Today the choice is yours.

Patton felt more and more astonished every more second. Everything sounded too much strange. Everything seemed to much… unreal. He couldn’t help himself but feel as he was taking advantage of the other’s kindness, like he was forcing him to bear with a problem that wasn’t his. Usually things wasn’t like that, usually it was him who… who… took care of the others.

- Anyone you prefer, kiddo. - And a tiny smile opened in his lips. Something in him starting to becoming calm although the hurricane in his core.

- Oh, no, no. - Roman denied, getting a little closer. - Today the honor will be totally yours, my dear Patton. - Each word was punctuated with a kiss in Patton’s cheeks, who began to  giggle uncontrollably, feeling his face burn. - Consider yourself lucky.

How did all of this could be so strange and… No, more than strange, more than only different…

Good.

Patton giggled a little more, lightly bitted the tip of his tongue and thought a bit more.

- Maybe The princess and the frog?

- Your wish is an order!

In a few pieces of time the movie already played in the background.

The creativity’s representation got closer, inch by inch, until finally manage to involve the partner in his arms, rocking and leaning his lips in the other’s head before whispering.

- Thank you for letting me take care of you, padre. I know it’s not easy.

This made Patton wide his eyes and expand his heart further, if that was still possible. He held out his hands, intertwining his finger with Roman’s when he received his act.

- It’s just… normally I am the one who take care of you. - The royal aspect huffed, and Patton stroked his cheek, shiny gently eyes showing how much he loved his little ‘work’. - I am the dad, should be more stronger.

- You are strong!! - Roman immediately shouted, sounding offended. - Patton, you are the heart! The one who don’t matter the situation always try to give your best, even if that hurts you, even if that brings consequences we’re all afraid to accept… you always try to remain fair and right in your decisions! You manage to see the bright side of everything and everyone and always is there, even if your day also wasn’t the best.

His eyes began to tearing, and Patton felt a hand softly direct his chin up so that he could stare the glare full of determination and energy from the other.

- Patton, you deserve this and much more, okay?

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, from letting out a few sheepish giggles. Roman’s tune became a bit more velvety.

- Okay, Patton?

- Okay. - And then embraced the aspect of passion and love, filling his face with thankful, lovely butterfly kisses and happy whispers.

It was almost in the part when Tiana went in search to recover her human form when the touch ended. Patton started to really get involved with the film's plot when a sensation almost made him jump through the ceiling.

Discreetly he looked at his tummy, finding Roman’s hands drumming his fingers on it and leading electric  sensations, something that made a involuntary smile be painted in his features, spread across all his body. The one in cardigan squirmed slightly, which didn’t stopped the motion.

The tickling were bearable, Patton decided, and he didn’t wanted to break this awesome bonding moment shared with the prince. He could endure until the end of the movie, for sure! It was almost in the middle, it was just a matter of time!

- Are you alright, Pat? You look a little agitated.

- I-it’s nothing, Ro-ro!

And practically jumped when the index finger found way to his belly button. Roman stared him with a raised eyebrow, but without really questioning something. The tickles stopped. The cat lover allowed himself to relax a bit more.

‘And what if he started to trace his fingers sloooooooowly through all your tummy?’

‘Not you, again.’

‘Imagine that nails scratching your sides!!! Tickling behind your ears while teasing you about your incredible tickliness…. Wouldn’t that be amazing?!’

‘Ah! Ah! Ah! What if he released small raspberries in each one of your ribs? Quick and small at the point you wouldn’t have the slightest idea where he would attack next! Ah!’

Patton controlled, again, his impulse to squirm and hide his, now very blushed, face in his hands. It only took a little stimulus and then it all went in a downhill!!

Now he desperately wanted some tickles.

His glance landed in the hand that remained resting perfectly calm in his stomach, absolutely unaware about the avalanche it had caused. That small voice continued to create the most random tickly scenarios in his mind, his face getting more and more in flames, his smile more uncontrollable and the movie more and more forgotten.

Maybe it was because of all his self inflicted anticipation that the one who wore glasses almost fell from the bed when a light feeling hit his foot, a inhuman squeak escaping from his mouth.

Roman paused the film, startled, quickly getting ready to face any danger that might threaten the welfare of his Pat-

And then he heard the laughter.

- Nahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!! Rohohohoho-rohohohoho!! Stahahaahahahahahahap!!! 

- But I’m not doing anything, dearest Patton. - The blossomed grin at the precious scene in front of him was easily perceptive in his voice. It didn’t took long to found the source of the ‘attack’.

His entire room was programmed to modificate itself as felt the most infinitesimal creative desire of someone, and, as it seems, this someone’ was the guardian of feelings, that is why now two soft gloves softly danced their fingers in the other’s foot, going from the heels to the tip of his toes again and again and again regardless Patton’s kicks, freeing all the kind of giggles.

- RohohohOHOHOHOHOHohohoho!!! – The moral aspect cutely squirmed in his arms, a gigantic smile adorning his face, wrinkled nose and his voice filled by the snorts and high pinch squeals.    – NHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahaha!! He-he-HEHEHehehehehehehehelp!!! – And again dissolved himself in a mess of quick and adorable giggling.

Roman bitted his lip. - Of course, my dearest hearty partner! - And his hands repositioned themselves in sides of the other, who began to fight more, his head shaking non stop. Evil laughter poured through the prince’s mouth.

Every wriggle, scribble and squeeze generated and increased a new flow of laughter, making him to go from the most high tune to the deep belly laughter. Tears started to accumulate in the corner of his eyes and, while the tickles and laughter took over his body in a lovely, joyful sensation, Patton never felt so grateful for any and everything. Just laying there and receiving all the love and care, without thinking or worrying with absolutely nothing sounded like a dream.

- Ohoho. No, no, Padre. - Roman whispered, his lips touching lightly the other’s neck, making with each word resulted in small vibrations that even made himself giggle with Patton’s bubbling squeaks and laughter. - Now the greatest Tickle Monster got you and there isn’t any way to stop him from attacking his ticklish tickly prey!!! - He continued to poke and wriggle inside the one in cardigan’s belly button since Patton’s hands, which were holding his wrists, didn’t made any real attempt to stop him. - Muahahahaha!

The blush spreaded across his cheeks, his laughter going muffled when he turned around to hug Roman, who changed his techniques to a soft dance of his fingernails on the cat lover’s back, the wobbly laughter becoming more and more low, sleepy giggles.

- Thahahahahahank you, Roman. - Closed his eyes, tightened their hug, let out a happy sigh.

- Your wish is always and order, Patton. You’re welcome.

Just like a dream.

[millie-ionaire05]

Saudade - Ot 7 | 09

Ot7 BTS

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Rating: M (Mature)

word count: 2,188

Trigger Warnings: Hospitalization (rehab, mental institute). Mental health issues (Text Reason to 741741 if you need to reach out for help). Insinuated M x M (if you squint hard enough). Substance abuse (alcohol, pills | call 1-800-662-4357 if you are dealing with this). Weapons (gun, knife). Smoking (cigarettes, weed). Mentions of suicide/attempted suicide (National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255). Violence (murder/attempted murder). Mentions of blood. Mentions of therapy sessions (these are not accurate representations, please leave it to proper professionals). Mentions of physical abuse (Call 1-800-799-7233 if you are dealing with domestic violence) WE DO NOT GLORIFY THESE WARNINGS/TRIGGERS; THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY, AND DOES NOT RELATE TO ANY OF THE MEMBERS. IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH ANY OF THESE, PLEASE REACH OUT TO YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES FOR ASSISTANCE, OR THE NUMBERS LISTED ABOVE.

↤ Previous | 09 | Next ↦

January 14th, 2018 | 15:20

   “I think he’s starting to remember.”

   Yoongi’s words reverberate like a threat in his brain as he downs another bottle of soju, disregarding the shot glass he’d previously been using. The desire to quiet the voice overrides the need to take things slow. Namjoon stumbles, colliding softly with the wall. He shifts, his back sliding clumsily down until his ass hits the ground and he releases the bottle, hearing it roll across the floor a bit from him.

   From his pocket he pulls out the drawing Yoongi had brought and his heart begins to thrum furiously beneath his ribs. A smudge of the graphite used tints his fingers as he unfurls the paper. Swallowing hard, he stares at the dark image, the strokes seemingly etched hurriedly on the page as if the artist felt the inspiration would disappear from his mind before he could finish it.

  As he continues to stare, the raven becomes a blur, Namjoon’s eyes beginning to lose focus. Could things have been different if he had tried more? If he had intervened and forced them to talk it out, would things not have gone so far? Would they all not be so estranged from each other?

   Letting his head fall back as despair washes over him, he turns to gaze over at the afternoon light streaming into his place from two square windows high above a small table and chair set against the container wall. In his peripheral vision, he makes out the tattooing needle, ink and supplies he has stored in that area and sits up, eyes widening slightly. He stumbles up onto his feet, sauntering over unsteadily before plopping down into the chair, his mind now locked on one thought only.

   Tattoo the bird as tribute.

   Even in his inebriated state, he doesn't worry about making a mistake. This was the one thing he was good at. His fingers are nimble, steady as he opens a new needle and attaches it to the nail gun along with the ink. An incessant buzzing soon fills the quiet space as his brows furrow in concentration.

   He barely feels the pain of the needle as it rapidly punctures his flesh repeatedly, delivering the black ink to the space beneath his skin. At the faint sound of police sirens in the far distance, a memory from the prior year comes to the forefront as he focuses on each line and stroke. A memory of him and Taehyung as they’d been tagging a concrete hedge in the middle of the night. After a few drinks, the two had grown bored, looking for something to do. Taehyung had brought a few cans of spray paint and suggested they add a bit of art to the playground not too far from where they were. He hadn’t really been down for that, but Taehyung had insisted and he didn’t want him to go alone. It wasn’t long before they had reached the spot and Taehyung began spray painting the area.

   They chuckled and teased each other as Tae colored the cement, both too busy enjoying themselves to notice the police car patrolling the area. Blue and red lights flashed across the wall, alerting Namjoon first. Straightening, eyes-wide, he tapped Taehyung’s arm, his chin jutting out to the area behind him, simultaneously snatching up his younger friend’s backpack. Taehyung turned, mouth and eyes turning into large O’s before the two began to run.

   Though their feet pumped swiftly, eating up the pavement, they were no match for the police and were soon caught, the officers none too gentle as they slammed them against their vehicle. Namjoon couldn’t help but grin over at Taehyung as the cuffs clicked into place around his wrists. Taehyung returned the gesture with a boxy smile of his own, even as one of the officers opened his bag, the spray cans spilling out onto the asphalt below. His smile dissipates as the officer grows rougher with Namjoon, yanking him harshly, hurting his arm as they straighten him up. It was then that Namjoon noticed the shift in Taehyung’s eyes go from mirthful to worried.

   He had been concerned with how the officer was treating Namjoon, but he had also come to realize that his parents would be notified of his arrest and were not going to take it well. Especially his father. Taehyung’s father was very strict and was known for physically showing his displeasure in the way of bruises and nicks that would decorate his skin.

   Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as if to clear the images from his mind. Letting out a heavy breath, he stands, walking towards a tall floor mirror he has leaning against the opposite wall. He’d placed it there for his clients to check out the ink he’d apply to them. Namjoon turns his forearm towards the mirror, twisting his wrist left and right as he takes in the image he’d permanently etched there.

   A lump forms in his throat, as he remembers receiving a frantic phone call from Jin just a few days after Taehyung and he had been arrested.

   “Slow down, Jin-hyung. I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Namjoon urged.

   He could hear Jin take in a breath and let it out before he made another attempt to convey his message.

   “It’s Taehyung,” he began again, his voice shaking terribly. “He...Jesus, he tried to kill himself, man.”

   “What?!” Namjoon exclaimed, his heart falling with a thud into the pit of his stomach.

   “Look, we’re nearby,” he’d informed him. “Can-can I just bring him over? I can’t do this on my own.”

   “Yeah, yeah.”

   “Just have a towel and some clothes ready...for both of us.”

   “Wha…”

   But Jin had hung up without elaborating and after a few seconds of staring at his phone, random scenarios accosting his mind, he’d sprang into action, grabbing towels and clothes for Jin and Taehyung. And he’d been right. It had not taken but about ten minutes for them to reach his place.

   After Jin had pounded on his door, Namjoon opened up to the sight of Jin holding up their younger friend. Taehyung raised his head slowly, his cobalt blue hair plastered to his head and face. He moved as if his head weighed tons, his eyes meeting Namjoons almost reluctantly. The dark orbs swam with guilt and exhaustion. Snapping to, he reached forward to help Jin bring Taehyung in.

   The two assisted Tae with undressing and drying up. There was a lavender tint to his lips, his face pallid and devoid of it’s usual tanned color. His skin was icy to the touch. Namjoon shivered fearfully. They dressed him quickly and Namjoon had to bite his tongue to keep from demanding what had happened. He led him to his sofa bed while Jin went into the bathroom to switch into dry clothes.

   Taehyung didn’t speak as he crawled onto the pull out bed, his eyes already fluttering closed as his head touched down on the pillow. Namjoon tucked a thick blanket around him, squeezing his shoulder gently before straightening up. Jin was just stepping out of the bathroom, his dark brown hair slightly dishevelled.

   “Can we talk outside?” Jin questioned, glancing over at Taehyung’s presumably sleeping form.

   Namjoon nodded and grabbed coats for both of them. Zipping them up, they stepped outside, puffs of steam expelling from their mouths as they met the cool Spring evening.

   As the door clicked behind him, Namjoon could no longer wait for the details, demanding, “What happened?” Jin ran both of his hands through his hair in exasperation, his usually plump lips pressed tightly together in a thin grave line.

   “My being there was just pure chance, ya know?” he started, head shaking as he paced back and forth. “I keep trying not to think about how differently this night would have turned out had I not had the fucking sudden urge to go night fishing.”

   “Jin-hyung,” Namjoon insisted. “Just tell me what happened.” He paused, staring at Najmoon, his eyes full of terror.

   “Like I said, I went to the pier to go night fishing, fish bite good in this type of weather.” He closed his eyes, trying to get himself back on track. “Anyway, I had casted my line when I saw the moonlight gleam off of something in the water. At first, I just thought it was a dolphin, but it wasn’t moving. I turned my flashlight towards the object and realized it was a person. I didn’t even think twice. I took off my clothes and jumped in.”

   “Jesus,” Namjoon swiped a hand down his face in surprise.

   “I couldn’t really see their face, I just grabbed them and swam with them to the water's edge. Once on shore, and we were beneath a street lamp, the blood drained out of my body when I saw it was Taehyung. He was so pale, his lips blue. God, I panicked for a moment, but it was just a moment. I performed CPR on him and it worked, obviously,” his hand signaled towards the door.

   “How did he end up in the water?!” Namjoon exclaimed.

   “When he came to, he didn’t want to say, but he finally admitted he had climbed up the scaffolding and jumped in. Since he doesn’t know how to swim, he was hoping he would drown.”

   “What? Why?”

   Jin shook his head, “He said he didn’t want to be a disgrace to his family.”

   “Shit,” Namjoon cursed, biting at his lower lip. “His father must have reamed him pretty badly for him to want to go to this extreme.”

   “Yea,” Jin agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the coat.

   “Look, I’ll take care of him tonight,” Namjoon dropped a comforting hand on Jin’s shoulder. “Go home, get some rest. I’ll talk to him. He’s going to be ok.”

   Jin nodded, “Ok. I’ll call in the morning to check up on you two.”

   Jin had left then and when Namjoon re-entered his home, Taehyung’s eyes were open, staring out, unseeing.

   “Tae?” Namjoon called softly, and his eyes refocused and landed on him. “You’re ok. You’re safe now.”

   “He told you,” he whispered, despondently.

   “Of course he did,” Namjoon sat down cross-legged before Taehyung. “We are all brothers after all and we don’t keep things from each other.”

   “Yeah,” he sighed.

   “You want to tell me what happened?” Namjoon probed. “I mean, what made you want to do this?”

   Taehyung drew his body into the fetal position, his brows drawing down tightly.

   “My...my dad didn’t take my arrest too well,” he admitted. “He beat me when I came home and told me I was a disgrace and had brought dishonor to our family. I figured killing myself would restore my family’s honor.”

   Namjoon’s eyes glittered with unshed tears, as he tried to remain strong for his young friend.

   “No. Killing yourself will not restore your family’s honor, Taehyungie,” he told him softly. “Living an honorable life will. Don’t do anything to get arrested again and work hard. That’s all you have to do. Can you promise me that?”

   Taehyung sighed, but nodded. “I promise.”

   “OK then. Let’s get some sleep.”

   Putting down a comforter on the floor, Namjoon curled up underneath a blanket next to the sofa bed, and slept knowing Taehyung was alive and well next to him.

   Namjoon picks up the soju bottle he’d released earlier and throws it angrily at the mirror. What had happened to their brotherhood and their promise to never keep things from each other? The glass shatters, falling in a glittering cascade at his feet. He looks down, his reflection a broken image across hundreds of shards. He catches sight of the white lily tattoo on his other forearm that he’d previously given himself.

   “Namjoon, listen, it’s Jin,” his hyung sighs heavily into the phone. “I got a missed call from Taehyung earlier. He’s been arrested again. He asked me not to tell you, but you know what happened last time and I couldn’t…. You have to get him out. We can’t let his parent’s find out this time.”

   Namjoon replays the voicemail left the previous night, cursing himself for drinking that night and not bothering to charge his phone.

   Namjoon takes the picture of the bird and walks to his kitchen to grab another drink, whiskey this time, pouring it into a short glass. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he brings the sheet towards it as he flicks it open. The paper instantly kindles, growing brighter as the flame licks up the dry surface. Namjoon’s eyes follow the chard edge as it swallows up the initials that had been scribbled on the back. When there is nothing but a corner left, he drops it into the amber liquid. As the hiss quiets, he brings the alcohol to his lips. The ash and whisky slide down past his lips to mingle in his gut with the beer and soju he had previously drunk. Jin's pale face flashes before his eyes just as he passes out in a heap on the floor.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Capter 64: Silken Touch and Self Realization

Chapters: 63/? 

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe 

Rating: Mature Warnings: NSFW

Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) 

Characters: Loki (Marvel),  

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Is Feeling Sure Of Himself, Loki Does Not Want You Putting Yourself Down, Loki Wants A Lot Of Things

Summary:   Loki treats you to a very nice bath, but you can’t help but fall into unsettling thoughts.

The bouquet of coneflowers went into a vase on your desk, as you wrapped yourself in a bathrobe. Whatever errands Loki had last night must have taken him back to Akureyri, where a patch of these precious blooms grew in the botanical garden. It was such a kind gesture on his part, to bring these back to you. He must have realized you were missing home.

You headed to the bath, only to find Loki already there, scrubbing his hair, as beautiful as the morning light that filtered in from the skylights. You sighed at the sight of that beauty. Eased by the recordings you listened to at night, your dreams had turned to longing rather than fear. Visions of that gorgeous body, that soothing voice, and that sensuous touch swam through your sleeping hours, leaving you frustrated upon waking.

You had felt his absence very keenly this morning, not just emotionally, but physically. After all, Akureyri was several miles away, and the distance still made you suffer. Maybe he thought if he went at night, when you were asleep, that you would feel the effects less.

Of course, your strength had come flooding back on his return, but you still felt a little wobbly. So you discarded your robe and entered the bath, wading straight into his waiting arms.

“Good morning, my darling.” He crooned, as you wallowed in his embrace. “I hope your sleep is finding you better.”

“It's getting there.” You said. “These things come and go, you know?”

“I do know. Fret not, darling.” He kissed your cheek. “Let me scrub your cares away.”

And you did; cherishing the simple intimacy of his soapy hands on your skin and in your hair, washing away the sweat of sleep, and making you fresh for the new day. You loved how this vulnerable nudity, far from making you feel 'dirty', was a literal and figurative way to be 'clean'.

Although sometimes your thoughts strayed to less innocent activities. Loki's body was as beautiful as his face, after all, and the sheer gentleness with which he handled you lit a flame in your heart. If you encouraged his soapy hands into the more forbidden territories, could you be blamed?

You stroked his sharp cheeks, as he massaged soap into your hair, gently scratching your scalp in a way that made you shiver. Asgardians used a special bowl, wide and shallow, to pour water over themselves for washing away soap- apparently showers were more of a military thing, and just dunking yourself under the water was considered immature; something only rambunctious children did.

Currently, you had to share Loki's bowl, a beautiful thing of hammered steel, etched with elaborate designs of snakes and vines, a symbolic representation of Yggdrasil and all of its realms in the center. Loki scooped up warm water in it, and poured it slowly over your foamy hair.

“We will get you one of these soon enough.” He promised. “The artisans will make you a great many things over the winter. By the time spring comes again, you will finally be properly furnished.”

“Oh, I don't need too much stuff.” You said. “I don't want to take them away from their other projects.”

Loki kissed the top of your wet head.

“Let them work.” He insisted. “There has already been competition over who gets to create which of your accessories.”

“What? They're competing?”

“Oh yes. There have been fights over you in the halls of artistry.” He said solemnly. “Of course, I still get the best part.”

He set the bowl aside and swept you into his arms.

“Right?” He murmured.

“Which part is the best part?” You asked coyly. Loki's eyes narrowed.

“I sense a trap.” He said suspiciously. “The correct answer, of course, is the fiercely burning spirit within you; the shining light that has led you through the darkest possible moments, never dimming, showing the path to survival, and greatness. Also, I am rather taken with your bosoms.”

You almost choked on sudden laughter. Bosoms???

Loki looked slightly affronted. “What? I find their shape and color very pleasing. That's...that's good, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have a great rack, that's great.” You said, just barely getting control over yourself. Loki looked even more affronted.

“Well...what about me?” He straightened up and released his grip on you. “What part of me is the best?”

You took a step back from him, crossing your arms over your 'bosoms', and hmmed, and hummed, looking him over. You took one of his hands, spread the long fingers out, turned it over, and over again, examining it. You groped around in the water, finding his hips and sliding your hands down until he breathed in sharply, caressed his chest and shoulders. He was built like an alabaster statue, made by a master millennia passed, and you briefly wondered if he might have modeled for such a thing, long ago.

For the first time, you noticed that not all of his veins seemed to follow the same paths that they did on you; branching off and snaking about in different ways, just beneath his skin.

Right. Not human. But somehow so close.

“I think...” You reached up and pinched the tip of his nose. “This part!”

Then you splashed away from him, cackling with laughter. He caught you before you could exit the tub, snatching you back against him, squeezing tight.

“Troublesome scamp.” He mock-growled, but there was laughter in his voice. “Flout me, will you?”

“Only if you ask nicely.” You teased.

About then you both simultaneously realized that your rear was pressed right up against his crotch, and you had been wriggling around. You could feel the consequence of that, nestled stiffly in the cleft of your cheeks.

You both abruptly went quiet, but Loki was breathing in that special way, where you knew you had gotten him excited and he was deliberately controlling his every movement. You adored how light his touch became at moments like these, even now, as he swept your hair to one side to expose your neck to his lips, the brush of his fingers was like a feather.

Slowly, he marched kisses down your neck, to your shoulder, and back up, pausing to tickle the curve of your ear with the tip of his tongue. He nibbled your earlobe for a moment, his breath making you shiver, then proceeded back to your throat.

His hands didn't stay idle; sliding over your skin like he'd never touched such a thing before, reverent and light. They found your coveted breasts, and squeezed ever so gently, waiting for your approval.

You'd been shy about getting too heavy with him for these past weeks, old baggage getting in the way. But you felt good today, and leaned into the touch. Sensing your acceptance, he began cautiously teasing your nipples, sending little jolts of pleasure through your body. You squirmed with it, and he released one of your breasts to hold your hips firmly against him, scraping the skin of your shoulder with his teeth. Still silent, still so softly, his hand ghosted over your hips, your thighs, until he slid between them and carefully cupped your sex with his whole hand.

He paused then, again waiting for your approval. It had been such a long time since you had allowed anyone to touch you in these places; even longer since you'd actually wanted someone to. But his hands were so gentle, and lacked the greediness of others, and you wanted more.

You rolled yourself against his hand, aware of the soft grind against his crotch. He breathed a soft moan against your shoulder, beginning to curl his fingers in a continuous wave that stroked the length of your vulva. You answered his quiet moan with your own. It had been so long!

You allowed yourself to relax entirely into this sensual moment; the steamy bath for just you and him, the closeness, the intimacy. His silence, his focus. His wet skin against yours, his silken touch, his soft lips nibbling. The heat of the water, of your skin, of his hands as they teased and delved.

You sighed into a gentle orgasm, Loki tilted your head back so that he could stare into your face as you came.

“Darling.” He whispered, while you caught your breath. “What a beautiful sight.”

You just turned in his arms so that you were facing him, and laid your head against his chest, while he slowly rocked back and forth in a silent dance.

                                                                       *****

Later, when both of you were clean and refreshed, you went out among the faithful to help with building the longhouses. Watching them go up, closer and closer to finishing every day, was one of the most satisfying things you'd ever experienced. It made you realize how important it was to see progress in your work. Doing the exact same thing every single day, with no tangible results had slowly worn away at you, but out here, seeing this whole project unfold, filled you with pride and a sense of purpose. Even when this project was finished, you could come out here any time, and the longhouses would be here, housing pilgrims and worshipers for years to come.

There would be a temple here too, eventually, and a sacred grove, and special, protected gardens, and even some animals. But for now, there were specific stone piles for offerings to the gods, and Loki's was full of licorice. Every now and then, while he was working or directing, he would take a handful and chew it thoughtfully. He didn't seem to find it as off-putting as you did.

Occasionally he would hand you a piece, as if trying to make sure you wouldn't waste away and starve among the half-finished longhouses. Everyone watched hawkishly whenever he did, whispering among themselves.

You had grown accustomed to that however, over all these past months of Asgardian suspicion, and social media putting you on blast. That part still hadn't quieted down as much as you would have liked, even if the Asgardians had gotten used to you.

After a good productive shift, You watched Loki take one more handful of licorice before escorting you back into the city, and noticed that a little saucer had been added to his cairn. It held a little licorice pile of its own. Now when did that get there?

Loki offered his arm on your way back to the city hall/palace complex, and you took it proudly.

“It looks like the faithful have decided that you should get a share of my offerings.” He said, bubbling with amusement. “They seem to think that you are favored among humankind.”

“Is that what the plate was for? Aw, that's really sweet!” You squeezed his arm. “Am I favored?”

“Deeply, and above all.” He answered. Warmth flooded you, and you snuggled against his arm.

“Loki...” You asked. “Exactly how...official...are we? What is allowed?”

“Official? Weren't we already? We're as official as we want to be. There are no rules anymore. Well, there are always rules pertaining to how one should treat their lady, but there is nothing that says that can't be you. Why?” He asked worriedly. “Has someone been saying things to you?”

“Eh. It's just, you have to get married at some point, don't you? For like, political reasons? I know you've been dealing with the paperwork.”

“Rejecting the paperwork.” He clarified. “I'm young yet. I don't need to marry anyone for any reason. Not yet. Fear not, I won't be abandoning you for some stranger. Thor will abolish political marriages; all I have to do is keep saying no.”

“Oh. So you're sure about that?”

“Very.” He said firmly. “Is that all that's got you worried?”

“Well, not exactly. I just wonder if you should after all. It's just...well, something Gloa said. Uh, she said that you should start preparing my 'funeral boat' soon. And I just got to thinking about that...”

“She said that?” Loki exclaimed. “Norns, I am getting so tired of her brattiness...No, no. It's not her fault. She wasn't always like this. She used to be bright, glowing, like her name. It was Ragnarok. Her father and uncles died, and I fear she blames it on me. Still, it's difficult to keep an even temper around her now. She was always...class-conscious, I believe you would call it, but she wasn't always so vicious. Annoying, yes. Cruel, no.”

“Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself.” You said. “Well, she might have been threatening me, but I kinda think she might have been referring to something we've been avoiding talking about.”

“Can we...continue avoiding it?” He asked. “Just for a little while longer?”

The Crown Prince of Asgard? Pleading?

“Well...yeah, okay. That elephant isn't going to leave the room, so I guess we can wait.” You might as well have mercy. It must pain him to think about as much as it did you. Maybe more. You would have to leave this world someday, and he would have to watch you go. Which was worse?

“Is that how Asgardians do funerals?” You asked. “On boats?”

Loki made an uncomfortable sound.

“I have to know, don't I?” You persisted. “In case I have to, uh, preside over one? That's a thing someone in my station might have to do, isn't it?”

“Maybe...” He conceded. “We used to use boats, yes. Depending on the deceased's profession, or how they died, that determined how they were sent off. The body would be placed on a boat of appropriate size, dressed in their finest, veiled, and grasping something of import to their lives. Other things would be placed on the boat with them, things they favored. Then the boat would be filled with flowers, and set adrift on our little sea. Right before it reached the edge of Asgard, a flaming arrow would be shot into the boat, and the flames would be the cue for the observers to release special lanterns. All the light was meant to help the spirit ascend. Eventually, the boat and all its contents would fly over the edge of the world, and be gone. It was beautiful, but we can't do it here. There's no edge to Earth.

We don't yet know how we will have to adapt our funerary customs to this world. Being buried in the ground seems so undignified. Being burned seems better, but there is not much wood in this country. Luckily, no Asgardians have died yet, so we have time to plan. Perhaps the stone barrows the people of this land used to build?”

“Like mausoleums?” You asked. “It's a bit like being buried, but not in the dirt. And you can make them really fancy, and put your grave goods and special lanterns inside, if you want.”

“That may be best.” Loki said. “No doubt there will be much debate. Ultimately, it will be up to the deceased and their families.”

It was starting to occur to you why some Asgardians were so hung up on the past. Their culture suffered blow after blow, losing even the ability to send off their dead in their own way.

“We will come up with something.” Loki said. “As eternal as we may seem, even our traditions have changed in the past. You don't need to dwell on this. I'll talk to Gloa; she really needs to think more before she speaks. It's going to get her in trouble, especially with me.”

“Don't worry about it.” You said. “This was weeks ago. She probably doesn't even remember it. I should have just let it go.”

“You should have told me as soon as it happened.” Loki said. “It could have very easily been a threat. Coming from anyone else, I would have to consider it one.”

“But then what?” You asked. “If I just come tattling to you over every little insult, I'll end up with a nasty reputation. And what would you even do about it anyway?”

“I would invite them to a private royal meeting, and then I would have a sincere and heartfelt talk with them, concerning courtesy and manners.”

“Uh huh. Like you did with Alarr?”

“Oh no, of course not! I intended to destroy Alarr for what he did to you. And so I did. He lives now as a warning to others, not to put their hands on you, if they want to keep them.”

It was a point of contention within you. On the one hand, you didn't want battle fought in your name. You'd had enough of blood and violence, and you didn't want to be the cause of more. On the other hand, you hated Alarr, and you wished you could have seen Loki specifically humble the man. You wished you could have seen Loki acting so valiant.

It made you feel wistful and guilty all at once. You didn't enjoy it.

“Loki, I-” You began.

“You are important.” He said fiercely. “It is no flaw to feel pride. Just because you weren't born into this, does not mean you have not earned it. Look at all you've done! Why not indulge your self-esteem?”

“You feel really strong about this, huh?” You said meekly. He was so insistent about this, whenever you expressed humility. It was almost as if he thought you were putting yourself down, but that wasn't really what you were doing.

“Humbleness is a virtue among my people.” You said.

“It is not. I've seen human Instagram.” He countered. “Humility as you express it, is a lie pushed by your ruling elite onto those socially lower than them. It primes you to not only refuse help or expressions of pride, but also convinces you that you do not deserve anything in the first place, no matter how hard you work, no matter what you sacrifice. You can never work hard enough, never be good enough to earn the things they've denied you. They take your pride, and they corrupt it.” He grew quiet. “I understand. Your whole life, you've been led to feel less-than. But that is over now. You have a new life, and I want you to grow into a greater understanding of your importance and potential. It's all there, _____, you just have to reach out and grasp it!”

“Loki...I don't know how to be anything other than what I am.”

“You don't have to. You have always had the potential to be any of multiple things.” He explained. “You have always had the potential to learn magic. It was also always possible that you would become a baker. Or that you would rise in importance, or come into the confidence of someone who was. All of this was possible, and all of it came to pass.

Meeting me wasn't something you earned. Becoming my friend was, and you did it all on your own. You didn't earn your birth into a family that carried magical potential. But you have put in the effort to learn, and so, you are earning a place among the mages of Asgard. You had to put much practice into your prowess as a baker, did you not?”

“Well...I did, yeah. That was how I got my job in the first place. But I didn't do anything to earn the station you're giving me, except let you kidnap me.”

“I beg to differ.” Loki said. “First of all, you did not 'let' me kidnap you. You fought back rather admirably, so I kidnapped you fair and square.”

That was a weird way of looking at it.

“Secondly,” He continued. “I will admit that I didn't exactly know what to do with you when I first brought you here. I did not actually intend to set you up permanently within my quarters; that was initially meant to be temporary. If you hadn't turned out to have magical aptitude, I'd have likely given you a job in the kitchens, doing what you already knew how to do. You'd have gotten citizenship eventually, so that wouldn't be any different.

Although, if you didn't have magic, none of this might have happened in the first place. No mark, no connection. So this was always going to happen. You were always going to have magic. That may just be one of the inescapable knots the Norns have woven into your life. But learning how to use it? That is on you.

Your appointment to seidkona...is a bit convenient, it's true. We need more human contacts. We need more human integration. And we need our humans to be like you. I mean that we need them to be in it for reasons other than power or prestige, even if those may be things that they come to be given. We need them to be forward thinking and dedicated to the community. The worshipers outside may yet prove able to provide people like that, but they will need to be able to function as something other than yes-men. I feel that, as they are now, too many of them are so overawed at us that they would not be able to speak their minds. As I've said before; the worship is gratifying, but not exactly what we need right now. Or at least, not the only thing we need.

We need some of the things you provide. I personally need some of the things you provide. So please, stop thinking you haven't earned this.”

                                                                             *****

The day had gone by fast, most of it spent out building the longhouses. You would be staying indoors tomorrow, studying previous seidkona appointment ceremonies with Saga. The day was coming up very soon. You'd have to know the right way to act, and the right things to say, everything that might be expected of you.

Loki had promised that your armor would be completely finished by then, and your new cloak, and that he would assist you in writing a speech, if you wanted, but that you didn't need to present a full speech, if you didn't want to.

You sat at your desk, awaiting suppertime, idly jotting down words in the hopes that you could come up with something that expressed your thoughts and feelings about all of this. The turn your life had taken, how it led up to this. How to convince the people that you were up to it, that you wouldn't let them down. For the first time, you would actually mean something to more than just a handful of people, and you wondered if that wasn't actually the hardest part. Not just feeling like you hadn't earned your station, but not knowing how to deal with the responsibilities that came with it.

Maybe that was the true source of your unease. Not simply being unworthy of your position, but of simply being unable to fulfill it. Being a disappointment. God, that was it, wasn't it! That was the hinge of everything, it always had been. Your aunt Beth would never have children, so you felt you had to be the best child possible for her. Your mother was dead, so you had to give her a good legacy. You were all your father had left, so you had to be perfect for him. Todd had sensed this anxiety within you and exploited it ruthlessly, further driving you into its paranoid clutches. Fear of disappointing others was not only a major driving force in your life, but one of the main things holding you back as well. Can't disappoint if you never fail, and you can't fail if you never try.

But that was back home, where people had known you for years. None of the people here saw you as a failure, but that put on an added pressure. They were ripe for fresh disappointment. And Loki...Loki didn't really know how weak you could be. He had seen you fight, yes, and he had seen you burst. But he hadn't really seen you break. He hadn't seen the way you could just give up, hadn't seen you just accept your fate. He hadn't seen you refuse to put up a fight. He would see that side of you, eventually. He'd see you be weak. He'd see you be stupid, and quarrelsome, and petty. What would he think then? Would those stars fade from his eyes? Would he be disgusted?

No, no, you couldn't think like that. Not right now. It would wind you up tight into a ball of anxiety and steal your already disturbed sleep. Loki had seen you sick. He'd seen you injured. He'd even seen you asleep, and likely had heard you snoring. It wasn't some great mystery that you had a bad side. He hadn't brought it up yet, so there was no need to go borrowing trouble.

You sniffed the coneflowers on you desk, chiding yourself. Loki was an adult. He'd been an adult for longer than you'd been alive. Surely he was discerning enough by now to know what he wanted in a partner.

Something wiggled close to your nose. You leaned back swiftly to see a familiar spiny, black and yellow caterpillar crawling along a leaf. You had seen this kind of caterpillar countless times in your life, and the butterfly they eventually became.

There were no butterflies in Iceland.

[asgardianthot]

Aftercare (Steve/Bucky)

Dom/sub aftercare, angst

summary: Steve takes care of his sub, no matter how reluctant he is to it.

word count: 2996

warnings: mentions of BDSM (previous to the scenario), one unintended injury

Steve Rogers was known for many things, but kinky wasn’t one of them…

…one of the things people knew about him, that is, keeping in mind how he’d been working me with chains, spanking me and fucking the living breath out of me for the past hour.

Even though we’d both caught our breaths, I was left devastated on the bed, laying on my stomach as my bare ass was still heated red. I could have moved, probably, but taking in mind my recent submission and dedication, I believed I deserved to act as a ragdoll. So did Steve, who was already retrieving the soothing lotion and rambling about getting me some water or whatever.

“You okay?” he asked for the seventh time.

I sighed from exhaustion, given both by my sore body, and by his insistent question. No, I wasn’t perfectly fine, my back and arms were slightly hurting, my ass and butt cheeks were killing me, the marks left by the handcuffs in my flesh hand were burning, I had a small cut on my lip from biting on it that wasn’t majorly uncomfortable but I could still taste the iron in my mouth, and everything felt as if I’d ran a marathon. However, I wasn’t dying, he hadn’t done anything more than he’d done before and I had already answered to his question the other six times.

Plus, it’s what I loved more than anything. Being roughed up by Steve.

“I’ll have that water.” I mumbled, merely for him to shut up about it.

He nodded with a small smile, rushing to the bathroom to get me what I had seen myself forced to ask for. He came back with his boxer briefs on, still allowing me to stare at his sculpted body, glistening with the lingering of sweat sticking, and I thought to myself it wasn’t too much of a bad view to die looking at.

“Here.” He sat down on the bed where I propped myself on my elbow to drink from his a glass held by his hand, making myself useless.

I stared into his eyes while sipping it at first, thanking him with my gaze, then focused on gulping the water down as I was desert-like thirsty and hadn’t realized it before. Once I was finished, I fell back on my side with a loud puff of air.

“Better?” Steve’s puppy eyes smiled down at me while his hand, one that had been choking me minutes earlier, was now caressing my shoulder with extreme care.

A small grin made its way into my face although I was doing no effort to conceal my tired eyes. So I just closed them and nodded, practically getting ready to take a nap before Steve started to kiss my cheekbone over and over again, with the cutest caring pecks a grown man is able to give. I enjoyed the moment for as long as it went on, until he stopped to check the red marks on my ass.

“Looks painful.” He commented when his palm grazed the irritated skin, and I knew he was hinting the possibility of putting some lotion on it.

“It’s fine.” I groaned, then motioned behind me by tilting my head a little. “My back’s not, though.”

It was meant to be a witty comment, even if there was some truth to it. The sore feeling in my ass and cheeks wouldn’t even become bruises, and I had probably mildly bruised skin somewhere in my body, but the scratches on my back meant my flesh was exposed and therefore the feeling was a bit worse at that specific moment.

Steve hovered over me to check, immediately standing up to circle the bed and examine me from behind. “Damn, I’m sorry.” He said in a low voice, not really feeling overwhelming guilt, to be candid.

His fingertips ran through the red trails, the burning sensation immediate but bearable. The Captain ended up massaging some lotion into it, anyways, even though I told him it wasn’t necessary. And good thing I didn’t try and stop him, for it truly was soothing after all. After laying a few kisses right under my nape where my hair stopped, he covered my corpse-like body with the blankets and returned to his original spot, where he sat next to me.

“You know, you’re kinda pretty.” I mumbled. “When you’re not unbearably annoying.”

Steve rolled his eyes with a smile, moving some sticking hair off of my forehead. “I just take care of you, you masochist.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You seem to love when I’m a masochist.” I said in a high tone, mocking how hypocritical he could be when it come to an activity performed by two people, and one he enjoyed so much, sometimes I forgot it was me who offered it in the first place and felt like he bribed me into it. “You just love being a pain in my ass after… well, literally being a pain in my ass.”

The blonde burst out laughing in reaction to my comment. He always was easy to embarrass, he would blush at the slightest joke or dirty comment, yet turned into something completely different when I kneeled in front of him, mouth open. I’d beg for release and he would spank me to shut me up, but sure, laugh like a toddler when I mention butt sex.

He went to kiss my wrist, lovingly caress the marks left by the cuffs, as he always did, yet this time it wasn’t as easy to move my, up until that moment, motionless limb. When he took a hold of my right wrist, the one arm I hadn’t moved merely out of instinct, the one made out of flesh and bone, the scorching pain made me hiss loudly.

“What?” Steve let go of my wrist, a terrified expression plastered on his face and wide-opened blue eyes piercing through mine, searching for answers.

I avoided his gaze, having trouble putting on a false worry-less face which ended up looking just confused. As I grabbed my own wrist with care, I sensed how absolutely wrecked it was, however being now prepared for the sensation, the pain didn’t take me by surprise and I was able to conceal any outer representation of it.

“It’s fine.” I lied, giving him a small smile, rubbing the skin with harsh metal fingers, which didn’t help.

Steve’s eyes were going nuts, scanning my face, scanning my hand, scanning my body, as if there were something else he’d missed, like a sword dug in my back or something. I could see the worry building up for he didn’t buy my poor acting.

“Let me see.” He insisted, his voice now a little sterner.

I shook my head and turned on my back to rest my head against the pillow, trying to forget about my wrist. I knew he would make a big deal out of it, blame himself, treat me even more like porcelain, as if it were possible. I only needed to heal the bone in question, not discuss it with an overprotective mess of a dom.

The man sat up straighter, still examining my face and torso. “Buck, let me see.”

“Mind grabbing me a sweatshirt?” I asked to derail the topic.

He held a serious and concerned expression, that was beginning to turn into anger, but complied, as he physically couldn’t not spoil me in aftercare, which implied accepting my every request, which were usually little to nothing. When he came back with the item, I received it with my good hand, however had trouble putting it on.

“Let me help.”

“I’m fine.” I raised my voice a little on exasperation, having already said those two words around twenty times before.

Nevertheless, I was not fine, taking in consideration the trouble it meant to slide my aching arm through the sleeves. I made a grimace that was impossible to control, followed by a grunt. Now he was definitely worried.

Not minding my opinions anymore, he walked up to me from the side of the bed and gently lifted my arm, concentrated on the hurting articulation, which happened to burn like a bitch when he held it in his hand. This time the noise that escaped me sounded much more like an annoyed grunt, mostly from holding back the pain but also out of real annoyance towards Steve’s stubbornness and hero complex.

“I hurt you.” He let out, examining the articulation.

I simply sat there, legs dangling off the bed, that big sweatshirt covering me all the way down to my thighs and a dead look on my face. It felt as if he were to yell at me like this was somehow my fault, which excessively-technically, it was; I was the one to always push myself to the limit, but those kinds of things don’t necessarily matter when you’re full of superserum and heal rapidly. Still, the image made Steve extremely upset.

“Was it the cuffs?” he questioned, still not facing me.

“I guess so, it’s where you put it last, didn’t you?” the words came out a tad too sarcastic for anyone’s liking, but I didn’t mean to take them back.

He closed his eyes. “I’m serious, Buck. You’re hurt.” Steve then let go of my hand smoothly to avoid any pain and rested one hand on his hip, more angry-pose than anything, even thought it was hard not to picture him as a model with such a sight. “Not fun-sex-hurt, but actually hurt. I hurt you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hand me my underwear?” I extended my arm, ignoring his overreaction.

He turned around to fulfill my command, not shutting up though. “This shouldn’t have happened. How did it happen?” he ranted while handing me the item.

“It was just an accident.” I said in a low voice, receiving the boxers and doing my best not to grimace while sliding it up my legs, but failing miserably. “It’s not- agh- a big deal.”

The ridiculous contradiction in my sentence made Steve tilt his head with a sad frown, a mixture between frustration and desperation for my refusal to let him do everything for me, or at least recognize the injury as important. He kneeled in front of me.

“Here, let me.”

“Go away.” I said unironically, however I felt like he received the words lightheartedly.

He insisted, which only made me feel even more humiliated as he tried to hold onto my boxers.

“Gimme.”

“I said go away!” I pushed back, hitting the back of my legs with the bed end and therefore falling on my butt; Steve stood back up and stared at me with a frown that had become much angrier, to which I cooled down and lowered my voice. “Can you stop acting like this? It’s insane.”

“No! What’s insane is whatever you’re doing!” he yelled down at me all of a sudden. “I broke your wrist, Bucky, how the hell do you expect me to react? I broke your fucking wrist!”

The scolding I was enduring had me looking down with shame, and I took the opportunity to lift the item of clothing that still laid right below my knees. I pushed it up my bum and accommodated myself, using my hand as little as possible.

“I didn’t notice.” I mumbled under my breath.

The way Steve’s voice rang across the room like a bark had me frowning up at him with something I couldn’t quite decipher, but walked along the lines of embarrassed and sad.

“What’s next? I choke you to death because you didn’t make me to stop?” he threw his hands out in the air, making a loud slapping noise when they fell at his sides. “I thought you were aware of a thing as simple as a safeword!”

Truth be told, the man had a fair ground to stand on regarding the why he was so disturbed. It was very easy for me to care little to nothing about my well-being. Hell, if Steve hadn’t been there to reach into my post-Hydra emotional hole and pull me out into his arms, I probably wouldn’t even be there in that room to receive his yelling. And my actions only confirmed it to him, the way I copied how reckless he was when it came to missions, how I didn’t mind leaving a wound unattended, the amount of times I forgot my body was mine and not the machine they had told me it was.

Technically, yes, this was somehow my fault for not noticing. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to apologize for something that held me as the primary victim. I was the one who got hurt, meaning Steve shouldn’t had been so tough on me for it.

He broke the tense silence with a puff of air, not raising his voice anymore. “Goddamn it, Buck!” he sighed, followed by his face falling on both of his hands in frustration.

I wasn’t entirely sure if it was caused by a fair mixture of my negligence and his decision to yell at me, or if one of those two weighed more than the other. Yet everything in my body pushed me to comfort him, not allow him to wallow by himself. I stood up slowly, contemplating his still body which barely shook his head a little, and walked to him where I could grab his arm tenderly.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” I gave in, the slightest hint of annoyance in my voice. “I’ll be more careful. But I really didn’t notice.”

Instead of arguing back, Steve pulled me into a hug, which I reciprocated while avoiding any rough motions with or near my hand. He pressed the sides of our heads together and sighed again, this time more painfully.

“I can’t hurt you. I just can’t.” the way his thumb ran up and down my shoulder let me know he was apologetic more than anything. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t wanna yell.”

I remembered when I first told him what I was into, and he had thought he wasn’t capable of doing it, cause he didn’t wanna lay a finger on me if it was going to be painful in any way. But then we tried it, and he realized it was a different kind of pain and it very quickly grew on him. He liked playing like that, pretending to enjoy watching me suffer when all he really enjoyed was hear me beg, because it made him feel needed and in control.

He might have been the captain out there, but when it came to us both, he always said he had no say in his feelings or actions whatsoever, like I could ask him the world and he’d steal it from the entire population just for me. I never wanted to exceed those limits, never wanted to take advantage of his will. I even sometimes pretended he never confessed such thing to me.

“You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself.” I did my best to ease the moment and comfort him. “And it’ll heal tomorrow.”

Steve kissed my forehead, then my temple, then cheekbones, until it led us into a sweet kiss. After staring deep into my eyes, as if we could read each other’s minds by doing it, he led me to sit down on the mattress, where he took a seat right next to me.

“I love you.” He said seriously. “So much, if anything were to happen to you…”

I simply stared down to my hands. “It’s already happened, remember? I can take it.”

Whatever torment he thought he was capable of unwillingly, was nothing compared to the things I had actually endured, and nothing Steve could ever do would even approach anything done by Hydra. He meant safety. I never had wanted to draw the psychological link between Hydra and my kinks, but I was pretty sure it has to do with catharsis, perhaps allowing the person I feel most safe with have their way with me in a healing manner.

He, however, didn’t enjoy any idea that compared him with the people who abused me. I could see it in his eyes when I peaked then looked back down to my hands, which he grabbed with utter care and held in his own.

As he pressed our hands against his chest, I could feel his voice buzzing. “I don’t want you to. I’m supposed to take care of you, not the opposite.” Suddenly, there was a hint of a smile in his pink lips. “You gotta let me take care of you, no matter how annoying I can be.”

We both smiled, him pleased with his reference to my complaints earlier, and me, giving into his warmness. Sometimes I had a hard time fathoming the idea of a person being the embodiment of the concept of haven. He kissed my metal arm, a gesture he didn’t do often but it reminded me he was the only person who knew how sentient it was, how much of a part of me and not just a weapon.

“I’ll get you some painkillers, okay?” he leaned to drop a kiss in my forehead before tugging a strand of hair behind my ear. “A heating pad and some hot chocolate.”

I frowned at the last addition, however a small smirk escaping me. “What’s the chocolate for?”

Steve only smiled as he got up. “To spoil you.”

Somehow he still got away with his own, for I gave into allowing him to pamper me without a single protest. And I figured, I wouldn’t care being looked after like that. When he got back with the promised, I laid in Steve’s arms while he pressed play on our old TV that we could barely use despite being a dinosaur for the likes of everyone else in this century.

And sure, I also figured there was nothing else I would rather be doing.

[yuto-non]

Movie Night pt. 2 (M)

Pairing: Dong Sicheng x Reader, Jaehyun x Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: voyeurism, alcohol consumption, Dom!Sicheng, exhibitionism, eventual multiple partners, situations without obvious consent from all parties

Summary: Movie night finally begins to heat up between you and Sicheng. It heats up even more with an audience.

A/n: Part 2 is here! I really enjoy writing this scenario, so I am adding a part 3! :) Thanks for all your support

"Oh, look who decided to finally show up!" Taeyong swung the door open with a terrible amount of exuberance, his facial expression filled with joy at the sight of you, who looked less than thrilled.

"Yea yea, you woke me up way too early. You're lucky I'm here when I am." You presented Taeyong with your hand in the air, waving his remark off as you swept by him and made your way to the kitchen. Taeyong scoffed at your comment and made his way to the living room, mumbling to himself. You knew Sicheng wasn't here, you had checked the cars to make sure. Even if Sicheng wasn't here at this moment, you knew he would be, and the only way to calm yourself down? Alcohol. No amount of internal pep talks would help. No amount of pumping yourself up would settle your knotting stomach. Alcohol was the answer right now. Sure, it was early afternoon and the rest of the crew might not arrive for a few hours, but this was a crisis. Your mind was in full-blown panic mode, your entire body was tense and unable to let go of the "what-ifs" that swirled around. You must have played out thousands of different scenarios in your head of the impending night, none of which could possibly play out, right? Game night was a fluke. There was no way this would go any further. You and Sicheng had been close for years. You had to let the thoughts go and act as unaffected as possible.

You rummaged around the kitchen, placing your bags down and searching for a glass to harbor your liquid courage in. "You alright there?" a voice chirped in. You turned your head to look behind you, your eyes softening when you saw Yuta standing in the door frame, concern apparent across his face. You gave a convincing smile and fully turned around holding two bottles of liquor up to present to Yuta.

"Of course! Just having trouble choosing what poison to give myself." You shook the bottles in his direction, and turned back to the counter as Yuta approached. You watched as he shuffled the bottles of liquor and colorful mixers around, surveying his options. Yuta looked at the bottles, back to you, and back to the bottles. "What is it?" You inquired, leaning forward and placing your elbows on the cool granite top.

"Just trying to choose something that suits you best." His response came with no eye contact, just an intense focus on making a drink worthy of reflecting your personality. You did not dare question further, as it was blatantly obvious Yuta took his title of bartender very seriously. He got to work, measuring out liquids, muddling fruits and jalapeno, tasting every step of his endeavor along the way. Yuta looked so handsome in this setting. His rose gold hair swept to the side, his sleeves rolled up, displaying his gorgeous forearms as they manipulated liquids into a perfect representation of you. At least, you according to Yuta. Sure, you've always found Yuta attractive, no one could say otherwise, but seeing him so focused on something was just showing him off in a new light. You soon realized you were no longer watching the drink be created, but watching the creator. His intense focus, the way his hair gently waved in front of his eyes and he continually pushed it away with a shake of his head. The way his lips curled into a smile following a taste. You licked your lips, absolutely lost in wonder of watching this man. "Here, try this!"

Wander broke abruptly as a the drink was presented in front of you. A blush found space on your cheeks as you studied the drink in front of you. It was a pale yellow in color. Ice cubes piled from the bottom of the glass and the rim was adorned with salt and a piece of jalapeno. You smiled to yourself and licked the salt from the rim before tipping back the drink. Sweet, spicy and a hint of tart swirled in your mouth. The concoction tasted so simple, yet so complex. This drink tasted perfect, exactly what you wanted. As you placed the glass down, you caught Yuta out of the corner of your eye, beaming. “Well, how is it?” He looked so excited. He was so proud of his creation, and all he wanted now was to hear the verdict.

You laughed at the sheer amount of excitement and pride that Yuta exuded. “It’s delicious! I am so curious why you think this reflects me as a person, though.” You raised an eyebrow to Yuta as you took another sip of the delicious cocktail.

Yuta locked eyes with you and grinned. “Well, you’re definitely sweet.” You nodded in agreement, complimenting yourself and laughing as Yuta rolled his eyes at your obvious show of ego. “And well..” Yuta mimicked how you had yourself, elbows on the counter, and leaned close enough to you that the next words brushed right over your cheek closest to him. “I think the hint of spice is very obvious.” He winked at you as you found yourself unable to reply from the alcohol rushing through your system and fogging your brain, the proximity of Yuta to yourself causing you to become stuck in place. Normally, you could play it cool. Normally, you’d have a come back to his flirtations...but you didn't. You merely suffered internally, gave a weak smile, and tried as best you could to play off the heat pooling in your stomach.

Sicheng had ruined you. You were now so hyper aware and sensitive to any advance towards you, even if it was all in good innocent fun. Having the night with Sicheng run through your mind a thousand times a day and not getting laid was an awful mixture. You slowly let the breath you were holding out as Yuta moved away from the counter. “Well, thank you, I think”. You jabbed your elbow playfully into his side with your free arm, the other hand holding your precious mixture, as you made your way past Yuta to meet Taeyong in the living room.

Turning the corner, you surveyed the living room Taeyong had been working to set up for the much awaited movie night. The comfiest pillows and blankets decorated every single seat and couch in the area, including areas on the floor designated for the event. The lights were dimmed and the movie was paused expertly on the title, awaiting to begin. “Tae?” Taeyong was not found during your inspection of the room, and you figured he must’ve run off to do more hosting duties. You took the chance to quickly make your way over to your usual spot, a couch in the back center of the room, right in the middle of the television screen. You placed your drink on the table with great care, and began to move the pillows and blankets to your liking, mentally prepared to sink into the comfortable abyss. You could hear footsteps, laughter and drinks being made. The footsteps grew closer, and turned into muffled movements once they stepped onto the living room carpet. “Taeyong, you did such a --” your words stopped the moment you felt large hands capture your waist from behind. You tried to turn your body to find the culprit, but as you began to turn, one of the hands were on the back of your neck, stabilizing your front and lower half to remain facing towards the couch. You didn’t need to see him. You could feel and smell him. You could smell the musky sweet cologne, you could feel the need and eagerness of the touch. Sicheng.

“Hello, princess. I remember you don’t like to look at me, so I’ll make it easier for you this time.” Definitely Sicheng. You might as well accept your new life as a mute, because words again were not found as your eyes became hazy and your core throbbed from the sudden surge of excitement that shot down your body. “I missed you.” Sicheng leaned you forward until your hands woke up from their slumber, finding the back of the couch. Sicheng leaned forward, pressing against you and planting a burning kiss on the back of your shoulder. You could feel his cock growing against you. You wanted to push back against him, but he held your waist firmly in his hand. Before you could try, his voice broke the spell. “Is this seat taken?” His hand released the hold on your neck as he lifted you back to him, swinging you around so you could sit on the couch. Your body ached, your mind was in absolute overdrive, and Sicheng looked completely unphased as he situated himself next to you.

Your mouth opened, about to find words and give him a piece of your mind, as Yuta and Taeyong entered the living room. “Sicheng! You’re here! Did you want a drink?” Taeyong held out a beer to Sicheng, who nodded and thanked Taeyong for his newly acquired drink. Sicheng tipped the liquid back into his throat before placing it on his own side table. A sigh left your throat as you began to relax some. Now with Yuta and Taeyong in the room, and more friends about to arrive, you would have a moment to let the previous events process in your mind. Your cocktail became your new best friend, staying close and allowing you a reason to remain relatively quiet, as the others chatted amongst each other. Your drink also helped you stay calm as the already small couch became smaller, Sicheng finding a way to become even closer to you. You kept your eyes off of him, occupying them with looking at the other two in the room, or finding their way to the window. Ignoring Sicheng seemed to be the best option. You knew if you looked at him, you’d lose yourself in those perfect cat eyes, or those incredible lips. Ignoring him was the ONLY option.

“Party is here!” Johnny entered, accompanied by Jaehyun, and a loud applause broke out around the room. Johnny’s arm rested around Jaehyun’s shoulder, both of them adorning drinks and huge smiles. Laughter erupted, as Johnny told one of his great stories about how the trip over to Taeyong’s house played out. Johnny always had great stories, he was truly a life of the party. Unfortunately, you couldn’t pay attention to the surely hysterical story, as something else caught your eye. Jaehyun. His eyes met yours, and you felt your body become stone. Jaeyhun’s face was painted with a knowing smile, shifting his eyes between both you and Sicheng, whom you could feel was smirking at Jaehyun’s detective work. You tore your eyes away from the penetrating stare, laughing along with everyone else at Johnny’s story.

“Well! I think this is everyone, let’s start the movie! I’m going to grab another drink!” You finally found words, trying to break the tension between the three of you. You finished the end of your cocktail, slurping up the rest, eager to allow your body to relax. As you were lifting yourself from your seat, Yuta interrupted, offering to bring you back another one of his special-made concoctions. Jaehyun found a seat on a couch to the front right of the room, while Johnny sat himself in a chair to the right as well. Taeyong started the movie before moving to his place on the floor, smack dab in the middle of the room. Once Yuta returned with your much needed drink, he found purchase in a chair to the left in the room. You could easily see everyone from where you and Sicheng were situated. You tried your best to focus on the movie, and not the fact that Sicheng’s hand had now made its way under your blanket, and on your knee. Luckily, Jaehyun was too engrossed in the movie to pay you or Sicheng any attention.

The movie was a comedy. Laughter was floating around the room, and soon your thoughts relaxed along with your body, from the alcohol swimming inside of you. Sicheng’s hand had not moved much, but to massage your knee. With the alcohol doing its job, you were finally able to enjoy the soft feeling of his large hand, the warmth it left, and the scent of Sicheng anytime you took a deep breath. The movie progressed, and so did Sicheng’s hand. Before you could protest, move, or react at all, Sicheng’s hand was tracing shapes around your inner thigh, causing goosebumps to race up your back. You dramatically rolled your head to try and focus on the movie and not the painfully slow movements that Sicheng was creating with his hand. Your blanket was draped over your lap as well as Sicheng’s, easily hiding his hand from the view of others unless they looked hard enough to see the slow rise and fall where Sicheng’s hand laid. The alcohol was helping you be less tense, but you were still frozen in place, unable to even hear the movie over trying to control your thoughts. Sicheng leaned closer to you, words flowing from his lips during a louder part in the movie. “I could use some more room.” His fingers tapped your other thigh, indicating for your to spread your legs for him. You gulped, the alcohol taking over your clouded thoughts, as you instinctually spread your legs for him. His hand wasted no time, gliding over the front of your core. You were mortified. You could feel your panties sticking to your lips, your core absolutely dripping already from the small amount of attention Sicheng had paid you. Sicheng’s hand applied more pressure to the front of your core, causing your breath to hitch in your throat and your eyes to flutter from the surprise.

You allowed your body to follow it’s urges, sinking down into the couch a little, allowing your legs to spread more for Sicheng and his magical hand. His hand took the invite, moving your shorts to the side as his hand rubbed circles around the front of your panties. You breath was picking up, and your eyes felt heavy as they tried to focus on the movie playing. “You pretend to hate this, but your body seems to love it” Sicheng purred in your ear, sending shockwaves down your spine as you arched your back, pushing yourself harder into his hand. “Cute.” He laughed against your cheek and finally moved his hand underneath your panties. You let out the breath you had been holding, your body screaming for more of him. Sicheng’s fingers delicately swept across the front of your soaked lips, a quiet moan leaving your lips as you tried to keep your hips from lifting off the couch. You could barely hear the movie, the laughing across the room didn’t matter, and your eyes could barely focus on anything. All you could feel was Sicheng’s fingers, all you could hear was his ragged breaths, and all you could smell was your dripping core mixed with Sicheng. His long finger found its way to your entrance, teasing you as it drew small circles inside your lips. Finally, you looked at him. His eyes were blown wide. His forehead was glistening with a soft layer of sweat, and his mouth parted slightly as he watched you squirm and your body quietly beg underneath his hand. He never looked better. His eyes locked with yours, and he smirked. Before you could guess why he had such a devilish look, his finger was thrust into your pussy, stretching you out suddenly, and causing your head to fall back on the couch, a moan threatening to escape your throat. You bit your lip hard enough to almost draw blood, and bucked your hips up to meet his hand. You couldn’t believe you were losing yourself so much, forgetting where you were, only feeling and seeing Sicheng. Reality hit you like a brick wall when you saw Jaeyhun from the corner of your eye. His eyes were locked with yours as your mouth hung open from the amount of pleasure Sicheng’s finger was bringing you. You wanted to stop, you wanted to move away from Sicheng and pretend nothing was happening, but his finger continued its ministrations, adding in another slender finger to your dripping pussy. His finger slid in easily, gliding in and out as you bit down harder on your lip, your eyes remaining glued to Jaeyhun. “Oh, we seem to have an audience, princess.” His voice dripped with pure lust, no sign of stopping evident at all. You looked at Sicheng, wanting to beg him to stop, but your eyes and body begged him to continue. You could feel the edge, you could feel the twisting knot in your stomach. His fingers went deeper, harder, the sounds of your soaking wet pussy able to be heard by Sicheng and yourself. You let your legs fall further apart to allow Sicheng to go even further. You lost yourself and let go completely. You didn’t care in that moment that Jaehyun was watching, and the moan that escaped your lips when you looked back over at him was thankfully muffled by your hand. Jaehyun’s hand had vanished under his own blanket, but you could make out the obvious rubbing motion in his lap as he watched your fucked out expression and gentle movement of your hips to meet Sicheng’s fingers. You both watched each other, exchanging lip bites, head rolls and dragging your eyes up and down each other relentlessly. Sicheng leaned down and bit your ear. His fingers flicked up, rubbing that perfect spot inside of you. You couldn’t take much more, your head was so hazy, the alcohol was rushing around, creating a perfect feeling of absolute bliss. Your hand pressed harder on your mouth, resting your head on the back of the couch as you put your hand on Sicheng’s wrist. You were close, you needed the release and it was coming on like a huge wave.

The feeling was overwhelming as your pussy walls clenched around Sicheng’s delicate fingers. Your hips bucked, your eyes rolled back, and Sicheng’s breath swept across your ear. “Cum for me, princess. Let Jaeyhun see how amazing I make you feel.” Your orgasm took you away, the wave crashing as you locked your eyes with Jaeyhun and let go. Jaeyhun’s mouth fell open, and his pace increased as he watched Sicheng speed up and you fought to stay quiet as your orgasm flowed through every inch of your body. Watching Jaehyun only increased the feeling, your head spinning with pleasure and excitement. Sicheng didn’t quit, swiping his thumb across your sensitive clit. Your body shivered and you quietly begged him to stop. After a few more seconds of torture, Sicheng’s hand came to a much needed stop. He laid his warm hand flat against your pussy lips, moving it in slow circles. Sicheng sighed against your neck, nipping at the skin as he finally moved his hand to put his fingers in his mouth and let out a soft moan into your ear. You watched in a trance like state as Jaeyhun’s hand slowed down beneath the covers. Sicheng put his hand over your shoulders and rubbed the back of your neck. “Do you think he enjoyed it?” He whispered, motioning over to Jaeyhun, whom never let his eyes wander from you for a second. Your throat was dry, and your breathing slowly began to regulate. You couldn’t believe you just came on Sicheng’s hand. At movie night. While Jaeyhun watched and enjoyed himself to your torture. You nodded hesitantly, studying Jaehyun’s face. His hand came to a stop and a big sigh left his chest. When his hand appeared from under the covers, you couldn’t help but notice the impressive bulge under his covers. His eyes were still hazed over in want. Your mouth hung open slightly, and Jaehyun’s hand grabbed the distracting bulge over the covers, his own mouth opening as he watched you bite your lip and squirm. The slight tug of your hair from Sicheng brought you back to face him. “Did you forget me, Princess?” his head tilted to the side and his eyes lowered to his lap.

As your eyes traced down his body, Sicheng’s free hand grabbed yours, leading it to his lap. Your eyes landed on his lap the same time as your hand, and your mouth began to water. His cock felt so warm and hard, even through his pants and boxers. You gave his cock a squeeze, sending his eyes to the back of his head and prompting you to survey the room again, making sure no one but Jaehyun was watching. You didn’t know where to watch. Jaeyhun looked pained from needing to cum, and Sicheng looked absolutely unraveled at the feeling of your hand on him. Your head spun with the overwhelming lust you felt, and as you were about to lose yourself to Sicheng again, Taeyong’s voice broke through the deafening silence.

“Well, that was not what I was expecting.” You froze. Were you caught? Was everyone fully aware of what was transpiring between the three of you? Your hand shot back to its rightful place in your lap. You cleared your throat and sat up straight. The panic ran through your body until you noticed..the movie was over. A huge weight lifted off your shoulders when you realized no one else was looking at you besides Jaehyun.

“Yea, I was not expecting that at all.” Jaehyun piped in, causing your entire face to flush. His eyes locked on you, making you look down at the floor. Conversation was flowing around the room, discussing the movie. Yuta and Johnny got in an argument over the meaning of the ending of the movie, while Taeyong fiddled with the television, switching it to his Playstation. Everyone seemed absolutely normal, while you felt absolutely confused. Sicheng’s hand had remained on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage.

“Hey, you ready to get home?” You looked at Sicheng, examining his face. His black hair swept effortlessly across his forehead. His eyes looked down at you so warm and full of adventure. After a night spent without being able to conjure words, you felt your body relax, and words came to you.

“Yea, I’m ready. I don’t think I should be driving, though. Can I stay with you?” Your lips curved into a smile as Sicheng returned a devilish grin. He squeezed the back of your neck and nodded. As you both got up from the couch, your gaze landed on Jaehyun. His eyes were still tracing every inch of you, a pillow placed on his lap to hide the erection he was struggling with. You bit your lip as you gave him one last look. “We are heading out guys, Sicheng is going to take me home.” The room broke out into whines and groans, asking you both to stay, but losing the battle to your stubborn self. You gave Taeyong and Johnny a hug, heading over to Yuta. Yuta stood up to hug you, begging you once more to stay. You shook your head, and pointed to your empty glass. “It’s your fault I am so tired! Those drinks really did a number on me!” you laughed and turned to face Jaehyun, who’s eyes still danced across your body. You nodded to Jaehyun, feeling too awkward to walk over to him, and turned to face Sicheng, who reached his hand out to yours. You both exited the living room, and headed to the door. You walked out the door, and took a deep breath of the cool air. Your head felt so clouded by need, your body was aching for more, and your emotions swirled all around the place. The cool air refreshed you, and brought you back down. The situation became clear. You were going home with Sicheng. The nerves hit you, but you couldn’t back down now. You made your way to his car. Sicheng came up behind you to open the door, but swept his head down to your neck, sucking the skin and placing his hand on the front of your stomach, pulling you into him. You tilted your neck to allow more access, and pushed your ass into him.

“I can’t wait to have every part of you.” Sicheng growled in your ear and opened the door. Your body was already on fire as you slid into the passenger seat. Your breathing was quick, the effect Sicheng had on you was obvious. As you waited for Sicheng to make his way to his seat, your phone buzzed. You picked up your phone, squinting at the bright blue light of your lock screen. As your vision cleared, you looked down and read the message staring at you.

Jaehyun: I need you.

Your stomach dropped, a surge of excitement rushing down between your legs. You bit your lip, and didn't look at Sicheng as he slid in next to you. “What is it?” He questioned. You shook your head and put your phone in your purse.

“Nothing, let’s go.” You gave him a smile and leaned your head back. Sicheng seemed content with your response, and started his way to his house. Your head couldn’t make sense of the night. You were on your way to Sicheng’s house. Jaehyun had watched you cum all over Sicheng’s hand, and now both of them wanted nothing more than to take every inch of your body. You let out a sigh and rolled down the window. You needed air to clear your head. Maybe you were making a mistake. Maybe alcohol was a bad idea.

Oh well, it was too late now. You were too far in.

Part Three

[petersmparker]

Welcome Home pt 4 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: It’s time for Peter to learn his place in the contents of Tony Stark’s will.

Word Count: 1757

A/N: obviously because I wrote this before far from home was released this is super duper inaccurate, but changing it would have introduced hella plot I didn’t wanna have here. it felt super awkward to write parts of this though. I just adore the design of the ps4 suit and have no concept of what would be a “reasonable” amount of money for Tony to leave bc this bitch aint fuckin rich and he’s thrown around cash like nobody’s business so?? welp

INTRO PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 EPILOGUE

With Peter seated between you and May on the couch, one of his hands held by each of you, he's about as prepared for the proceedings as he's capable of being. Unfortunately, that isn't saying that much. Pepper and Happy are seated in the armchairs to either side of the couch. A large briefcase has been set on the coffee table in front of Happy. Resting on top of it is another, thinner case of some sort.

Pepper pulls two envelopes and one small box from her purse. She removes the contents of one envelope to read aloud. The other, she hands to you. When you pass it to Peter, he takes it with the hand that May had been holding. He shakes as he clutches it, staring at the scratchy writing. You squeeze his hand.

"To Peter B. Parker," Pepper begins, sounding practiced, but sad, "I wish to leave the data surrounding the engineering of the Spider-Man suits and equipment that I have manufactured, including those regarding the artificial intelligence program, Karen."

Happy leans forward to give Peter the thin case. May accepts it for him when Peter does not move to let go of the letter in his hand. She opens it gently, and reveals a thin sheet of what appears to be glass. When she lifts it, it lights up and projects a hologram of the Stark logo. From the device, a voice is emitted. "Hello, Peter," it greets, "Are you feeling any better today? How did you sleep last night?"

"Hey, Karen," he says, glancing awkwardly around, "I slept fine. Can we talk later?"

"Sure. Goodbye, Peter," it responds, and powers down.

May puts the tablet back into the case and shuts it. Pepper takes that as her cue to continue. Before she resumes reading, she hands you the box that had been sitting in her lap. It reminds you of the boxes jewelry is sold in, but when you lift the lid it doesn't contain anything of the sort. Instead, it houses three different identification cards. One bears the logo of the Avengers and one the Stark Industries logo, both with a dorky image of Peter framed below his name in the corner. The third was entirely blank, aside from the scanning code.

"So that he may make use of this data, I will be ensuring that Peter will, in the future, be granted full access to any and all facilities of mine. He is permitted to utilize whatever resources that we are capable of providing. Pepper has agreed, that, in the event of my passing, she will personally attend to this to ensure that this promise is kept."

Peter had been staring wide eyed at the three cards in your hand. The first two are pretty clearly defined. Even so, you turn them over, examining them further. Pepper admits that while the Avengers facility isn't exactly usable currently, Peter will be added to the security system as soon as it is rebuilt.

You hold up the blank card. "Ma'am?" You ask, "Which facility is this one for, exactly?"

Pepper gives a smile that expresses quite a bit of endearment. Something tells you that it's directed toward Tony, wherever he is. "That card is registered to allow access to Tony's setup in our home," she explains, "His most recent stuff is there. Please, Peter, stop by anytime you'd like. We'll even send you a ride if you need one. Tony would be glad to know you're around, and I know Morgan would be thrilled to see you again."

You had been staring at the card as you attempted to process her words, finally understanding just how close Peter apparently had been with the famous Tony Stark. Your attention is pulled back to Peter when he raises his arm to rub at his eyes. When he pulls it away from his face, his eyes are noticeably redder. He takes in a big, shaky inhale. "Thank you, Mrs. Stark. I promise I'll come visit."

You squeeze his hand again. He gives you a quick glance and squeezes back. Before Pepper continues, you gather the cards back into the box and shut the lid. Happy reaches out to the big briefcase and clicks it open.

"Peter is also to receive that which is already intended to be the owner of: every piece of Spider-Man tech that I have manufactured," Pepper reads, "This includes, in total, fifteen variations of the Spider-Man suit, including both the first one I ever gifted to him, and the Iron Spider suit."

As she finishes her sentence, Happy lifts the lid of the briefcase and spins it around so that Peter can view it. A mechanism inside lifts its contents upward. The mask is not too dissimilar from that of the original Spider-Man mask, but smack dab in the center of the chest is a large, bright white spider decal. May ooh's at the sight of it. It's simpler than the Iron Spider suit, clearly, and you can't help but wonder why, out of thirteen suits, this is the one presented to Peter so specially.

"The others are currently in storage at the Stark Industries facility. Whenever you'd like, you can come check them out and take them home if you'd like. Tony wanted this one to be brought to you first, though. I'm sure the letter will explain why."

Happy points proudly to the mask. "I helped with this one, you know," he says, grinning, "I suggested he put the optional full-body cooling system in there since you were complaining about the heat that one July. He called it the White Spider. Nice, right?"

Peter slowly nods in response, but hasn't taken his eyes off the suit. For a moment it appears that he's gotten overwhelmed. He takes one more slow breath and turns back to Pepper. "Thank you very much for coming," he says, voice a bit shaky, "I never expected anything, let alone this much. Never. Thank you."

She lets out a chuckle, pushing her hair behind her ears as if preparing herself. "Actually," she admits, sounding apologetic, "there's two more things. Tony said you'd probably try to reject one of them. He also said that you are in no way permitted to reject it. Sorry in advance."

"What did he do?" Peter questions, suddenly sounding not too far from exasperated.

Pepper smiles. "In the event of the college MIT being able to reopen-"

Peter sighs, as if he's expected it.

"-Tony has written you a rather insistent letter of recommendation for future use. Though to be honest, it never really seemed like he thought you'd even need one, so why he did that I have no idea."

"Might have had to do with, 'Mr. Stark, I don't need to go to college, I want to be an Avenger!', which he thought was incredibly dumb and also hilarious," Peter suggests, seemingly unable to hold back a small smile.

You can't help but let out a laugh, too. It's not hard to remember that particular period of complete disinterest in school.

"Please go to college," says Aunt May, not without good humor.

Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I was fifteen, Aunt May, don't worry. Anyway, a recommendation to MIT isn't that bad. Especially considering everything else he's left. What did he think I'd be rejecting?"

Pepper folds up her sheet of paper. She places it back into the envelope it came from as she says, "Well," she says, "that would be the trust fund that he instructed me to create under your name."

"The what?" Peter exclaims.

His hand suddenly tightens around yours, causing you to flinch in pain. He notices it. "Oh, jesus, I'm sorry, I- the trust fund?"

"Yes," she responds, sounding amused, "I was under strict instructions to place five million dollars in a fund that you would be permitted to access when you turn twenty-one. Which I did. As of this morning, the money has been successfully transferred."

Peter stutters for a solid fifteen seconds before he is able to speak. You're similarly dumbfounded by the announcement. "I can't just take that, that's more than I'm ever gonna earn in my whole lifetime, are you kidding me, holy shit-"

Aunt May has burst into tears. You really don't blame her. "Are you sure?" She asks, flapping her hands out in front of her in some sort of panic.

Happy grabs her hand, as if to try to calm her. She repeats her question, and he nods, laughing, "This is Tony Stark we're talking about. He was always willing to dole out money like that; probably didn't even think twice about it."

"He can't just give me five million dollars," Peter continues, "That's insane, I can't-"

"You're right," Pepper chimes in, cheerfully, "He can't. But I sure as hell can, and am more than happy to do it. It's already in the fund. It's yours. That's all there is to it."

May jumps from her seat and hops around the table to throw her arms around Pepper. She can't seem to form a coherent sentence in order to thank her for what her nephew has been given, but the sentiment is clearly felt.

Peter, still next to you, has begun to cry quietly. Laughing in disbelief at the situation, you adjust to wrap your arms around him. He fits his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder and continues to break down. You're not sure if it's due to the collection of representations of just how much Tony cared about him, or the fact that after growing up dumpster diving for electronics and feeling guilty every time he lost a backpack, he suddenly had money to his name. It very well might be both.

"I can't believe this," he says into your shoulder, words broken up, "When did he do all this?"

Pepper is still very much tangled up with Aunt May, so Happy answers. "Well, according to Pep, he sat down alone and sorted out his prospects right after they had determined that he was going to try to reverse the Snap."

"He didn't even know if he was going to be able to bring Peter back and he still set this all up?" You question, shocked, still holding Peter against you.

"Sweetheart, Tony didn't even want to try to reverse the Snap until he decided he needed to get Peter back. I don't think he even stopped to consider the possibility that Peter wouldn't be around to receive all this."

Tag List

@souvenirsvisuels @moonstruckholland