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scoonsalicious · 1 year ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, allusions to sexual situations, damning texts

Word Count: 2.5k

Previously On...: Bucky attempted to explain himself in an effort to regain your trust. You offered him an ultimatum: He cut off all contact with Jade Carthage and let you go through his messages with her on his phone.

A/N: Bucky decides to lay it all out on the line, showing Pocket all his texts with Jade.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43 @wolfgirl21

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

There were hundreds of texts. Possibly thousands. You honestly had no idea he had been communicating with her this way so consistently. The first thing you did was check his deleted texts, but the folder was empty– though you doubted Bucky even knew how to delete texts, you couldn’t be positive he hadn’t picked it up somewhere. You made a mental note to yourself to hack into his phone’s data from your laptop later and check his phone records, and then hated yourself for having to resort to something so controlling. God, who was he turning you into?

The texts started innocently enough– questions about training schedules, protocols, general life in the Tower. All perfectly reasonable inquiries one would make to their new superior officer. But then came the requests– fixing her lights in her room, would he eat breakfast with her because she was so lonely? They began texting each other good morning and good night… every day.

She started calling him “sexy” and “handsome” as a way of greeting him. He never encouraged it, or reciprocated, but he never shut it down or told her it was inappropriate, either.

Then, there was the evening after the Central Park fiasco.

Vix: It was really mean of you to make me walk all the way back to the Tower by myself, you know.

>> I know. I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to Pocket alone.

Vix: I could have been assaulted or kidnapped!

>> lol You’re a super soldier. You could wipe the floor with anyone who tried.

Vix: Aww, thanks Jamie <3

Vix: Did your girlfriend get over her temper tantrum?

>> She had a right to be upset. It was shit of me to forget about her like that.

Vix: What is she? A golden retriever?

>> lol

Vix: She was alone for, like, five minutes. She’ll survive.

Vix: If you ask me, she was just looking for an excuse to be mad at you.

Vix: She obviously doesn’t trust you, which is so hypocritical.

>> What do you mean?

Vix: Come on, Jamie. You don’t really buy her whole bullshit story about her ‘friendship’ with Stark, do you?

Vix: I don’t care how rich he is. *No one* shells out that kind of money for someone’s education without expecting something in return. She obviously fucked him.

>> She told me it wasn’t like that.

Vix: Don’t tell me you believe her! I know you’re not stupid.

>> Yeah, well of course I wondered.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you asked, your voice rising as you stood up to face him. “Uh, which part?” he asked sheepishly.

“There’s more than one part that would have me asking ‘what the fuck’?” you asked, disgusted. Bucky just kind of shrugged his shoulders. “You seriously think I slept with Tony?!” “Oh, that!” Bucky looked relieved, and that concerned you, because if he was relieved that that was what you were upset about, what the hell else was in those texts? “I wondered about it when you first told me he paid for your school,” he said. “Back before we were really friends. But you said that you didn’t, and I believe you. I’ve always believed you.”

“Well, your text to Carthage sure makes it sound like you don’t believe me,” you argued. “Like you’re still wondering.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he said softly.

“Yeah, well, and I say this with all the lack of respect it deserves,” you snapped, “your intentions are shit.”

Bucky looked down at the floor, no longer meeting your gaze. “Fuck,” you said, “I don’t even know if I want to read the rest of these,” you told him. “If that was something ‘well intentioned’ but there’s still things you expect me to get upset about.”

“No,” said Bucky, looking back at you now, “please– I want you to read them. I don’t want to have any more secrets from you.”

You sighed and sat back down. “I’m not even going to touch on you laughing about her calling me a literal dog,” you said as you picked up the phone and started reading again.

There were several selfies from Jade to Bucky of her in various skimpy outfits, asking for his opinion. Completely inappropriate, in your opinion, but Bucky would just respond with the thumbs up emoji, or occasionally “nice,” or “pretty.”

What really got to you, though, were the late night texts. You noticed some of the timestamps on Bucky’s end were from hours after you would have fallen asleep. The idea of him texting her in the middle of the night, in the dark, while lying next to your sleeping body repulsed you, and you had to suppress a shudder.

What was worse was the context of them– it wasn’t anything salacious or sexual, no– it was his vulnerability. His personal thoughts and feelings, memories of his past and descriptions of his nightmares that he refused to share with you, telling you they were too dark, or that he couldn’t remember them. Even now, you skimmed over what he had written without really reading them, knowing that he hadn’t wanted you to be privy to those parts of him. It broke your heart to see him being so open with her, so lacking in defenses, when you had literally been right there, yet he’d kept you at arm’s length, all without you knowing it.

Vix: What did you tell her about the sparring match?

>> The truth. It was just an intense practice session.

Vix: So you didn’t mention your hard-on, then? >> That was just a physical reaction. The adrenaline from the fight. It had nothing to do with you.

Vix: lol Keep telling yourself that, Jamie.

>> Vix. Vix: Relax, I’m just teasing xoxo

>> Yeah, I know.

Your hands were shaking. “I fucking knew it,” you seethed.

“Knew what?” Bucky looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

“That fucking sparring match,” you said through clenched teeth, your eyes beginning to water. “I fucking knew there was something sexual going on between you two, and you lied to my god damned face! And then, what? You fucked me with the erection she gave you? God, I knew you looked guilty. I could see it in your fucking eyes!”

“Okay, yes, but no!” Bucky said. “Yeah, I felt guilty because I got hard during the fight, and I was worried you saw it, but it really didn’t have anything to do with her! It’s… it’s a thing that happens to me, sometimes. Doesn’t matter who I’m fighting with. It’s, uh, happened when I’ve sparred with Steve– ” You shot him a look, skeptical. “I swear; you can ask him!” he continued. “It… look, I’m pretty sure it’s a hold out from the… things… Hydra did to me. When they were turning me into the Winter Soldier. The details are hazy, the memories aren’t all there, but… I have… flashes… how they used to, uh, stimulate me, to get me to do what they wanted me to do.”

You looked at him, waiting for more details, but he didn’t offer them. He obviously still didn’t trust you with those parts of himself, even now. “But, I swear to you– as soon as I saw that look on your face, it was gone. I felt awful, knowing what you would think if you’d noticed. That killed it, instantly. When we were together, later, that was all because of you. It was all for you.” He took in your expression. “You don’t believe me.”

“Seems to be a pretty convenient excuse, don’t you think?” you asked. You felt like a bitch, on the off chance he was telling you the truth, if his erection had been based on the conditioning of decades of sexual abuse on top of the physical and psychological trauma he had endured, but he’d eroded your trust so thoroughly, you couldn’t help but doubt.

“You think I’d lie to you about something Hydra did to me?” he asked you, hurt. “Something like that?” You could hear the unanswered question in his voice: Something horrible we’ve both been through?

You shrugged, knowing you were being cruel. “How should I know? I’m not the one you’ve been sharing your secrets with, so I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s another lie.”

Bucky grimaced, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You, of all people, knew how shameful discussing sexual abuse could make one feel, but you’d always been honest and open with him about what had happened to you, because you had trusted him. It was hurtful to know he’d been through something similar and hadn’t afforded you the same trust in return, even though you knew you had no right to demand it of him. But he had given it so freely to her.

You went back to the texts, hoping you had read the worst, but dreading there was still more to come.

He told her about your fights. That was difficult to read, knowing that he had made her privy to the lowest points in your private relationship, and how she must have been eating it up. >> I just don’t know what more she wants from me.

>> What more she expects me to do.

>> One minute she’s furious with me, and the next minute, she’s saying she doesn’t care.

Vix: She’s messing with you. Fucking with your emotions to show she can control you.

Vix: Why do you keep putting up with this?

>> I don’t know. Sometimes I

Vix: ???

>> Nevermind.

Vix: What, Jamie? You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.

>> Sometimes I just wish she was maybe a little more like you. More understanding.

You stared down at the screen, unable to move.

“Pocket?” Bucky asked, noticing you hadn’t scrolled in a few minutes.

“You don’t know why you keep putting up with me?” you asked him, voice barely above a whisper. “You wish I was more like her?”

“I was upset,” he said, crouching down in front of you. “That was the night before she went to Malaysia, after I left our room, but before I got her to go to Gino’s. When I could tell you were pulling away, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t really mean it; it was just venting because you had me so confused.”

You stared off into the middle distance as Bucky tried to make eye contact with you, unable to look at him. “I feel like there’s this whole entire side of you you’ve been hiding from me,” you said, speaking to and through him simultaneously. “I don’t know this version of you, at all. And I don’t think I want to.”

“Doll,” Bucky grasped your hands, desperation entering his voice, but you didn’t have the energy to pull away. “Those texts aren’t me. You know me. You know my heart.”

You met his eyes then, the look you gave him full of loss, betrayal, and heartache. “I don’t think I do.”

Bucky’s face cracked; you’d never seen him look so defeated. He took the phone from you and scrolled to the very bottom of the text thread, to the most recent exchange the two had had, from the night of her ‘panic attack.’ Wordlessly, he handed the phone back to you.

Vix: Please, Jamie. I could treat you so much better than she can.

>> I told you, Vix. I’m not going to leave her. I love her.

Vix: But all you do is fight. I can hear you from my room, you know. I know you’re not happy.

>> We fight because of *you*. Please don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to ask Steve to reassign you for training.

Vix: Please don’t do that! I just want to be with you. I could make you so happy.

>> *She* makes me happy. She’s all I want. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it’s how I feel. I’m never gonna love anyone the way I love Pocket. That’s just the way it is.

Vix: You can’t deny there’s something between us!

Vix: I know you feel it!

Vix: We could keep it a secret. She doesn’t need to know.

Vix: You could have both of us.

>> Stop. I don’t want you. And to be honest, I’m disgusted you’d even suggest I cheat on the love of my life.

Vix: You don’t mean that!

>> I do. You need to accept it.

His last message was followed by a barrage of texts from Jade, begging him to respond to her, but he hadn’t. You supposed, in a way, that should make you feel better, but you were so emotionally exhausted, you couldn’t feel much of anything. All you knew was that you should have never read those messages.

“This… this is a lot to process,” you finally said, looking at Bucky. “I don’t really know what to do here.”

Bucky frantically tapped at his phone screen. “Block her number,” he said. “If cuttin’ her out’s what it’s going to take for me to start rebuilding your trust, then I’ll gladly do it. Pozhaluysta, Pocket.” Please, Pocket.

Mechanically, you went through the motions of blocking Jade’s number from Bucky’s phone. “I… don’t know if this is going to be enough, Bucky,” you told him, handing it back. “Those things I read just now… They’re honestly making me question everything. Our entire history.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said, putting his forehead to yours. “If this is just step one, then it’s step one. I’ll take however many steps you ask me to until I make this right.”

“You’ve gotta be one hundred percent on this, Buck,” you said. “Because if you’re not, if I find out that you couldn’t keep this promise to me, there’s no coming back. You’ll be the one who’s so iced out, it’ll make Siberia feel downright tropical.”

Bucky grinned slightly. “I’m positive, sweets,” he said, putting a hand on top of yours. “You’re all I want, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. It was just that, well, you didn’t fucking trust him. “FRIDAY?” you called.

“Yes, Ms. (Y/L/N)?”

“Please alert me any and every time Sergeant Barnes and Ms. Carthage have an interaction in the Tower going forward. I request audio and video footage be sent to me immediately should they cross paths.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/L/N). For clarification, do you want alerts for physical, audio, or digital interactions to be sent to you?”

“All of it, FRIDAY,” you said, watching Bucky very carefully for any sign of discomfort or uneasiness over your course of action, but you saw none. “And do not allow an override without my express verbal consent and company password.”

The AI agreed and promised to alert you if any such interaction occurred.

“That was very thorough,” Bucky said, sounding somewhat petulant. “You really had to cover all the bases, didn’t you?”

“Well, I had to have someone I trust keeping an eye out on things,” you said pointedly. Bucky flinched, the expression on his face faltering.

“I am going to make this right, doll. I swear to you.”

“I’m tired of you telling me, Buck,” you said, really needing to drive your point home. “It's your last chance to actually grow up and start showing me.”

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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vorecommunitywoes · 6 months ago

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Okay, I don’t want this placed on my own blog as I’ve disowned the whole vore community, but as I was a major voice in my teens I really NEED people to hear me when I say this community is not safe for kids and why.

I was Bioluminescent-Bat. I was the coiner of the tag “extreme cuddling.” I do not think people understand what horrible things they’re getting into, so I’m sharing my story here as a cautionary tale.

I was 15 when I was a big name in the community. I left Tumblr’s when I was 18; the overarching community at 21. I was drawn into the community due to my interest in biology & wildlife science; I’d been pretty consistently writing these tropes for most of my life as a mechanism for exploring mutualistic relationships with species. My involvement, however, started on Deviantart at 13. People over there convinced me that this interest was/had to be vore vs just a STEM/character design interest, and that they kept theirs like a “dirty secret” / not to talk about it with others. I was encouraged to write the subject matter into my works up to almost pornographic detail, with their guise of it just being “detailed” biology discussion. The attention I received became a dopamine rush with each new writing piece, where I was desperate to please an audience. An audience with no respect for my boundaries (kept pressing for fatal/digestion, outright smut, some really weird kinks I wasn’t even old enough to process WERE kinks, etc).

On Tumblr, folks adored the little rambles and blurbs I would do on the subject matter. I was not prepared to be put that much on a pedastal in my mid teens, and deeply regret that I was. Several individuals noticed me as I became more known, and pretended to be mentors within that space. Within a Skype group I was discussing with them, they outwardly discussed vore kink-related stuff (by which I mean folks eating strange & dangerous objects for fun) all while being aware I was a teen at the time. This they denied being kink related because they were “nonsexually interested” but supposedly just “respected those who were kinky” as though they weren’t part of that group. Due to Skype’s automatic deletion/hiding of messages two years back, I cannot retrieve these. But this is more so background than anything else.

The individuals within this group (glowinside, tastylittletiny, and Spartaku17) essentially made me the figurehead of the “sfw” side. By telling me that the vore was nonsexual, I believed them and thought it was fine. I was encouraged by them to continue writing the content, posting the writings and asks, and were more or less my biggest fans at the time. They actively packed around me (especially the first two) and told me to ignore anyone trying to convince me otherwise as it was just “harassment.” I was never once told to avoid the kinky spheres (or told how to identify them), and was often pressured to ignore my boundaries to “not exclude the other sides” and therefore pushed much further than I should’ve. They also showed high interest in “recruitment” type efforts wherein I was pressured to “educate” my peers regarding the trope (to those who were with me on that ride, I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am. I hope you are recovering well and have managed to break your chains from that horrible place.)

When I turned 18, I discovered that I was Demisexual. This was immediately used for blackmail. I was told by the nsx side that I had to essentially keep an “UwU wholesome” energy to myself (nonsexual, not a breath of darkness in theme, etc), because if I so much as looked into anything outside of the “SFW” areas as an adult, I would be “proving” I was lying and essentially lose the rights to my autonomy. This also branched into “having permission” to strip my asexual identity away from me. I should not have to explain how fucked that is.

To people outside of the specific cultlike circle I was in, I was presumed to be much older than I was and accused of being a groomer for echoing my abusers’ beliefs. Instead of asking, this was assumed and pushed me in deeper. This was made worse by said groomers insisting I stay away from anything labeled 18+ only - many of which WERE people my age just chilling out and existing. So I was actively therein forced to either give up the right to my autonomy, or be forced to babysit kids to “protect them from people who would hurt them” for two more years. The call was coming from inside the house the whole damn time. This is when I removed myself from the spaces themselves, but only fully processed and disowned it March of this year. I’m still recovering from the damage of a decade’s manipulation.

Now, I do not believe that people who have nonsexual interest in the concept are lying. I’m amidst this group, where my interest is predominantly thematic & Demisexual in nature. However, there is a difference between sexual and “safe for work.” Plenty of nonsexual things can be mature in nature and need to be left to adults. This is where the community falters. Vore still overlaps way too much with the explicit sides, and is NOT for children. I’ve seen far too many people getting chained into this idea that if they just label their work as SFW they’ll be safe - and no. You’re not. The entire community has a common theme of trashing consent for their own kicks; the place isn’t even safe for the ADULTS in it. Anyone who says otherwise is lying, or has been made to think that way.

I’m begging minors not to listen to people coaxing you into a fetish space. Use your mental energy on making some cool monsters & study biology instead. Just don’t believe the “SFW” side of any kink-based community has your best interests at heart. Trust your gut. You’ll thank me later

#sorry for not posting this ive been dealing with a bout of health issues #not going to really add anything to the main text here i want this to stand on its own #thank you for sending this and im so fucking sorry for what you went through. i hope you heal from this #swwh #v0re #sfw v0re #extreme cuddling #e-a/t #e a/t #eaten alive trope #swallowed alive trope #sfw noms #the noms community #num noms #god why are there so many minor oriented tags i hate it

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gimmethatagustd · 23 days ago

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false advertisement | kth + jhs

Taehyung advertised himself on Grindr as a dom top. But all men do is lie.

Pairing: Taehyung x Hoseok

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Established relationship, humor, queer social commentary, slice of life, smut, fluff

Word Count: 5,021

Content Warning: Hobi is sassy and a little terrifying (as he should be), Taehyung is a Golden Retriever Boyfriend (as he should be), light dom/sub, anal sex, anal fingering, rimming, capitalism, we must unlearn toxic cishet masculinity

A/N: Writing this brought me back to my roots as a writer of "goofy smut" and honestly, I missed it soooo bad. This fic was initially posted on AO3 as anonymous for a fest, and before they revealed that I was the writer, my moot had already clocked it as mine purely based on the summary 😂 when will i become serious ??

From: LOML !!!! Wanna see something funny?

Taehyung stares at Hoseok’s text message while he anxiously bites his thumb nail. Ten minutes have passed, and he still hasn’t responded. It’s unlike him; everyone knows Taehyung is always on his phone. If he doesn’t respond to a text immediately, then it’s clear that he’s ignoring it.

He doesn’t want to ignore his boyfriend. He’s just scared.

Hoseok hadn’t used any emojis, not one. No laughing crying face, no mysterious side eyes, nothing.

Whatever Hoseok shows Taehyung, he knows one thing for sure: it will not be funny.

To: LOML !!!! Yee

Taehyung winces as he presses send knowing how stupid and uncommitted he sounds. Guilty, even, though he doesn’t know for what. Hoseok is sweet, sunshine personified, and one of the kindest people Taehyung knows. He’s also one of the most terrifying, and Taehyung knows not to cross him.

From: LOML !!!! I was clearing storage on my phone and deleting apps And I realized I still have Grindr, just offloaded But I decided to look at it Yknow For memories~

Taehyung runs his hand over his head, so accustomed to messing with his curls when he’s stressed that he forgets his head is buzzed now. The messaging app shows that Hoseok is still typing.

“Taehyung-ah, what’s up with you?” Yoongi approaches Taehyung from the side and tries peering over his shoulder to look at his phone. “Shit, is that Hob-ah sending you so many texts back to back?”

“Hyung!” Taehyung elbows Yoongi in the chest, only briefly looking up when Yoongi smacks his arm back.

“Watch it!”

“Mind your own business, hyung!”

Yoongi glares at Taehyung before returning to their grocery cart. They’re supposed to be shopping for ingredients so Yoongi can show Taehyung how to cook a few of Hoseok’s favorite foods. Taehyung wants it to be a surprise for their one-year anniversary. But he needs Yoongi as his lifeline since he hates to cook and barely knows how.

“I’m going to the next aisle,” Yoongi announces as he marches past Taehyung, pushing the cart along.

Taehyung waves Yoongi off, too busy scrolling on his phone to start at the beginning of the multiple screenshots that Hoseok has sent him and trying not to pass out in the middle of the grocery store.

From: LOML !!!! I found our messages from the first time we talked I think i forgot how charming you were Oof. Past-tense here to kick Taehyung in the ass.

Oof. Past-tense here to kick Taehyung in the ass.

From: LOML !!!! Yknow what i never forgot, though? Kim Taehyung? THAT YOU SAID YOU WERE A TOP YOU SEE THIS SCREENSHOT? THAT IS YOUR GRINDR PROFILE AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT SAYS RIGHT THERE TAEHYUNG 28 DOM TOP T O P D O M T O P AND YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME?

Taehyung closes his eyes and lets his head tilt back. He lets out a long sigh through his nose as his phone continues vibrating in his hand. He doesn’t need to read the rest of Hoseok’s texts to know what he’s saying.

“Fuuuuck,” Taehyung groans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so fucked.”

And that’s exactly the problem: Taehyung is fucked even though he was supposed to be the one doing the fucking.

From: LOML !!!! Anyway Tae Sweetie Would you like to know what the legal term is for the atrocity I’ve put up with for the past year and a half?

Taehyung knows it’s a rhetorical question. Hoseok provides the answer almost immediately.

From: LOML !!!! False advertising You are subject to prison time You little twink

“Are you still getting your ass chewed out?” Yoongi grunts as he strolls past the aisle, more food in the grocery cart.

Taehyung lets out another sigh. “Yeah, that’s half of the problem.”

Yoongi’s face crumples, and he sucks his lips in, pressing them together so tightly that it looks like it hurts.

“Right. Well. I’m gonna go pay for all this now…”

Taehyung slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and gives Yoongi a weak smile.

“Good idea.”

Here’s the thing: men are liars. Everyone knows that.

Taehyung has never done anything dominant in his entire life. He’s too shy to even correct waitresses when his food orders come back wrong at restaurants. He makes Hoseok do it for him! And as far as topping goes… well, Taehyung is pretty sure everyone knows having a dick up their ass is great, hence why Hoseok is complaining that he never gets one up his.

Can anyone blame Taehyung for enjoying that his partner is vers? They shouldn’t. He’s innocent.

Of course, he can’t really tell Hoseok any of this. But on the drive home from Yoongi’s apartment, Taehyung definitely plans to tell Hoseok. He practices a little speech as he drives the speed limit because he doesn’t want to get home any faster than he needs to.

“It’s simple, really,” Taehyung says to the Hyundai Avante driving in front of him. “The first time we hooked up, you just, sort of, took the lead on things. And I, as an accommodating partner, was willing to go along with whatever you wanted. Because I love you!”

Taehyung waves his hand as he talks. Judging by the sudden horn honking, he surmises that the Kia Sorento speeding next to him thinks he flipped them off.

Misunderstandings! How stupid they are.

“And then,” Taehyung continues as he pulls into the underground parking garage of their apartment complex, “we kept doing what we were doing, and it was never brought up! So, therefore, I thought everything was fine.”

By the time Taehyung crosses the threshold of his apartment unit, he has mentally rewritten his speech at least three different times, each draft with a failed conclusion and no viable responses if Hoseok challenges him as a follow-up. What is he supposed to say? It has been over a year since they met each other. If this was such a big deal, shouldn’t Hoseok have spoken up earlier?

The front door opens to a small entryway that leads to their kitchen, where Hoseok sits at the island counter. He has his feet tucked behind the rungs of the wooden barstool, and his arms folded so that he can lean over a book lying flat on the counter. Hoseok’s been into reading lately—mostly fantasy and graphic novels. He says he wants to appreciate art forms other than music and visual art.

Taehyung wishes he was more like Hoseok.

“Hi.” Taehyung slips out of his shoes and shuffles further into the kitchen.

With the capped part of his ink pen pressed against his bottom lip, Hoseok tilts his head just enough to meet Taehyung’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be in jail?”

��Hyung.”

Hoseok taps the pen against his bottom lip a few times, as if counting to ten and waiting for Taehyung to correct his bad behavior.

Taehyung would like everyone to know that he was well-behaved as a child. He completed his chores without complaint, submitted his homework on time, and only received detention in school once when he was eight for playing outside in the rain when he wasn’t supposed to. He’s almost thirty now and still the bestest boy there is, thank you very much.

“Yoongi hyung bailed me out?” Taehyung offers the joke with a shy smile. He hovers at Hoseok’s elbow, keeping his hands in his pants pockets. On any other day, he would interrupt Hoseok from his reading by smothering himself in the crook of his neck and squeezing him until his arms cramp.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Someone had to, and it wasn’t gonna be me.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines. He taps his thighs, fingers twitching in his pockets with the need to grab Hoseok. “Don’t be so mean to me. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, skepticism written on his pursed lips. “You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Yes, I do!” Taehyung bounces on his toes.

“And what is it?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. He chews his bottom lip and pulls one hand from his pocket to rub his palm across his buzz cut, back and forth in quick swipes. “For, uh, not reminding you I’m vers. And, uh, a switch?”

Hoseok snorts, and Taehyung drags his hand down his face, pulling at his eyes and lips like he’s wiping away the embarrassment coloring his tan skin.

“You’re ridiculous, do you know that?”

“Yes!” Taehyung nods. He knows his eagerness will make Hoseok laugh, and it does.

A selfish part of Taehyung revels in Hoseok’s sweet giggles, the way his lips curve into a heart-shaped smile, revealing bright teeth and crinkling his eyes. Hoseok is so effortlessly handsome. Even in his after-work outfit of brightly colored baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that doesn’t match, hair a mess, and slight bags under his eyes, he captivates Taehyung.

Reaching up, Hoseok curls his fingers around the nape of Taehyung’s neck. He strokes his skin, fingertips tapping along in a gentle dance that leaves goosebumps in their wake.

Taehyung closes his eyes and leans into Hoseok’s touch.

“You’ll have your court hearing within the next five business days. I hope you’ve found a lawyer.” Hoseok’s smile turns into a smirk, but Taehyung doesn’t see it. “But in the meantime, I’m hungry.”

Taehyung cracks one eye open to look at Hoseok through his long lashes when he stops caressing his neck. “Takeout?”

“Mhm, I’m not in the mood to cook.” Hoseok closes his book and sticks his pen behind his ear. “Unless you were planning on feeding me?”

“I could feed you this cock,” Taehyung blurts.

The barstool makes a scraping sound as Hoseok stands. His lips part slightly, and Taehyung can see the tip of his tongue move behind his teeth like he’s revving up to speak, but can’t get the words out. Maybe what Taehyung said was a little too much. Maybe he should take it back.

“Because that’s what you” — he bounces on his toes again and tries to pass a grimace off as a smile — “what you wanted, right?”

Hoseok’s shock grows into a blushing grin. He grabs Taehyung’s shoulder and shoves him with a laugh. “Shut up, Tae.”

Stumbling, Taehyung reaches for Hoseok’s wrist to keep himself on his feet, lucky that Hoseok has a strong core to stop them from falling. He giggles until the tension in him lifts and his shoulders sag with relief.

“Want to watch something while we eat?” Hoseok asks, letting Taehyung tuck him under his arm as he scrolls through his phone to pick a restaurant for takeout. He pauses for a moment to tilt his chin, bright eyes glittering as they stare up at Taehyung.

It's easy to read Hoseok, especially when his pretty, heart-shaped lips pucker out just a bit. It's even easier to kiss him.

Hoseok tastes sweet, though he always does. Taehyung whimpers into the kiss, digging his fingers into Hoseok's shirt to pull him close by the baggy fabric. It's short-lived because Hoseok breaks the connection of their lips with a giggle. Taehyung's smile presses against his bottom lip.

“I want whatever you want, hyung.”

Taehyung means it now, with Hoseok’s decision on which restaurant they’ll order from and which TV show or movie they watch, but he also means it for later, when Hoseok wants something else from him. He doesn’t know if Hoseok understands the double meaning, but it’s okay. He just hopes Hoseok will be vocal about what he wants.

In the days that follow, Taehyung finds himself occupied with his demanding corporate job, leaving him with little time to indulge in conversations with Hoseok about his useless fat cock and how criminal it is that he’s a twink. Hoseok is busy, too. His increasing prestige in the world of choreography has made him somewhat of a hot commodity. Left and right, idols come to Hoseok to train backup dances for their music videos or choreograph special unit performances at award shows. Taehyung is proud of his boyfriend, but he misses their cuddles at night when they both work late and come home at odd hours.

However, as their anniversary approaches, Taehyung takes time to plan how he wants to orchestrate Hoseok’s surprise.

This year, neither of them are supposed to give each other gifts. Hoseok had made it clear there was no point in “spending unnecessary money” on frivolous things. They both know material items can’t express how much love they have for each other. Of course, Taehyung had challenged him on that, complaining that anniversaries are all about gift-giving. To which Hoseok had countered that “the greatest gift would be your dick up my ass”.

The situation works out for Taehyung, regardless. Giving Hoseok the gift of his dick wouldn’t be breaking the rules. Hoseok only said no to spending money on gifts. Taehyung’s dick is free.

Except for, you know, the exchange he’ll have to make, considering everyone knows prostate orgasms are best, and he’ll be missing out on one. It’s fine. He loves Hoseok enough to give up the opportunity for multiple orgasms. It’s fine.

At least he’ll be avoiding jail time and lawyer costs! If some dick and a (hopefully) gorgeous homemade dinner aren't enough to acquit Taehyung, he has no hope.

On their anniversary, Taehyung wakes up early. He usually gets up before Hoseok, lacking the flexible schedule that comes with Hoseok’s position in his industry. Today, Taehyung sets aside extra time to finish a few tasks before leaving.

What is supposed to be the guest bedroom in their apartment has become a home office of sorts. One side of the room has a desk for Taehyung’s computer and gaming setup. On the other side, a colorful array of Hoseok’s art supplies lay strewn about: pencils, paints, charcoal, and clay. Taehyung knows there are notebooks stashed in the cabinets beside the drawing table; he bought Hoseok a few sketchbooks for his birthday. Finding one is easy. He rips out the first blank page and grabs a nearby pencil.

This is probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done. There’s a strong chance Hoseok won’t find his joke funny, but Taehyung is determined to give his boyfriend what he wants, even though it’s the opposite of what Taehyung wants.

Not that Taehyung hates topping. He has done it before, plenty of times. It’s just that bottoming is nice. Taehyung enjoys the affection often shown to bottoms, the societal expectation of praise and care for them. As an affectionate person, it fills Taehyung’s love language in full. Oddly, Hoseok was the first person to let Taehyung bottom in ages. Most people assume Taehyung is strictly a top. He’s not sure what it is about himself that gives off that impression. Or perhaps it isn’t him. Perhaps he’s just unintentionally drawn to bottoms. Who knows?

Now that Taehyung is dating Hoseok, none of that past stuff matters.

Leaning his forearm on the table, Taehyung takes his time crafting a little anniversary note for the love of his life. He doesn’t have much time before he needs to grab a granola bar and head out the door, but he’s determined to make this note look at least semi-decent. He’s not much of a drawer, so the sketch comes out rough, but it conveys the message Taehyung is trying to get across, and that’s what matters.

Taehyung’s sketch is of a hand making an “okay” sign and another hand pointing at the first with its index finger. Under the hands, Taehyung draws a pair of winking eyes and a sharp nose. Scribbled across the top of the page is his straightforward declaration: “me + you”.

Once his sketch is complete, Taehyung tiptoes down the hall to the kitchen. He’s careful not to make any noise that may wake Hoseok up. With each step, he can feel his heart beating a little faster, and a wave of giddiness washes over him.

As he places the paper on the kitchen counter, Taehyung checks his watch. A wave of disappointment ripples through him when he realizes he doesn’t have time to make Hoseok breakfast. But why? He can’t even cook. The only reason he’s going to make it through their anniversary dinner is because of his secret weapon: video calling Yoongi.

But first, he has to give Hoseok his anniversary gift.

With a nervous pep in his step, Taehyung takes a deep breath and slips out of the apartment. He hopes his little note is inviting enough. Taehyung has never been great with words. He hopes he’ll be better with his dick.

Taehyung spends the entire day consumed by thoughts of Hoseok’s reaction to the note he left. Taehyung’s anticipation grows, and he finds it difficult to focus on anything else. Each passing minute sitting at his desk, halfheartedly responding to emails, feels like an eternity as he anxiously awaited when Hoseok would finally read the note.

Is it weird that Hoseok doesn’t mention it in their texts? They send each other brief messages throughout the day whenever they can, mostly when Taehyung is on his lunch break or pretending to be taking notes during a meeting. Yet, Hoseok never mentions Taehyung’s sketched invitation. He doesn’t even go into much detail when he wishes Taehyung a happy anniversary.

Maybe Hoseok is mad at him for being so flippant about their conversations. It isn’t entirely his fault; Hoseok has been mostly passive aggressive ever since the "Grindr conversation".

Just in case Hoseok is mad, Taehyung practices another speech on his drive home from work. He mentally reworks the drafts a few times once he arrives at their apartment, muttering to himself as he lights vanilla candles to place on their dresser and nightstands and sprinkles rose petals across the bed.

“Well, hyung,” Taehyung tests out his argument, “you see, it was a joke. No, calling it a joke makes it sound mean…” Taehyung frowns, rose petals pinched between his fingers. “It was a… I wanted to…”

The sound of the front door closing makes Taehyung’s mouth snap shut. Hoseok will know Taehyung is home from their Bluetooth speakers playing Ginuwine.

“Jagiya,” Hoseok calls to him from the living room, where he’s likely dropping off his backpack. “Care to explain the note you left me this morning?”

The sexually explicit note was an invitation for Taehyung to fuck Hoseok, of course. That was exactly what Hoseok wanted. What better time than their anniversary for Taehyung finally to give up his moment to please his hyung?

“Hyung,” Taehyung shouts from the bedroom, “can you not just follow the instructions on the note and come here?”

Hoseok laughs as he opens the door and steps into their dimly lit bedroom. The vanilla-scented candles cast long shadows across the bed and fill the room with a soft, warm glow.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the bed, his heart racing as he tries to play it cool. He’s still wearing his work clothes: a white Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slacks. Clearing his throat, he drops the loving expression he was wearing for Hoseok, forcing his features into a stern frown. “I thought the note said you were supposed to come to me naked? Are you really that cock dumb that you’ve forgotten how to read?”

Hoseok’s mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”

If Taehyung wasn’t so nervous, he would have laughed at the shock that colors Hoseok's tone and turns his cheeks pink. But he has a role to play. This is Grindr Taehyung, and he doesn’t laugh unless it’s humiliating the blushing man standing in the doorway.

Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, Taehyung stands from the bed. “Got nothing to say, hyung?” Taehyung murmurs. He snakes his arm around Hoseok’s waist, pulling him closer. “You want my cock, you have to follow my rules.”

Hoseok’s eyes narrow, but he obeys Taehyung’s command. “Okay,” he says as he brings his hands between their bodies to untie the drawstring of his joggers.

Taehyung watches with a smirk, but on the inside, he’s honestly freaking out. The sight of Hoseok stripping naked for him makes Taehyung the one who’s cock dumb. He just can’t let Hoseok know.

“Perfect.” Taehyung brushes his fingers across Hoseok’s perky nipples, his touch drifting lower until he reaches Hoseok’s cock, already leaking a little bead of precum from his slit. Taehyung wraps his hand around Hoseok’s cock, giving it a firm squeeze, and watches his eyes flutter close. “Get on the bed.”

Despite Hoseok’s initial stubbornness, he gets on his knees with his chest flat against the bed willingly, desperately, because this is exactly what he has always wanted. Taehyung has seen Hoseok naked countless times, but never like this, never offering the most sacred parts of himself for Taehyung to take. And, fuck, has Taehyung forgotten what it’s like to be on the other side. He forgot how good it feels to have someone present themselves to him. “Spread yourself wider, hyung. I want to see you.”

Hoseok complies, reaching back to grab his ass cheeks and spread them apart. His hole quivers as he clenches, and Taehyung can tell that Hoseok must have prepped himself during the day — maybe in the morning, after Taehyung left for work.

“Fuck,” Taehyung breathes, voice shuddering as he momentarily breaks character. This is really happening. Taehyung is going to fuck Hoseok for the first time. He reaches into the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and tossing it onto the bed beside Hoseok. That action alone has his cock straining against his zipper.

Taehyung covers Hoseok’s hands with his own so that they’re both holding his cheeks apart. Leaning in, he flattens his tongue and licks across Hoseok’s rim.

“Tae,” Hoseok gasps, his voice strained. “Shit, I don’t remember the last time someone ate me out.”

A twinge of guilt shoots through Taehyung’s chest. He has been denying Hoseok this pleasure for over a year. It really hasn’t been fair of him. Rather than respond, he continues licking and sucking Hoseok’s rim. He occasionally dips his tongue inside, feeling Hoseok’s tight heat around him, and his cock throbs even more.

Hoseok starts to rock his hips back, seeking more. “Tae... please,” he begs, his voice shaking.

Taehyung’s fingers join his tongue, hooking his thumbs in Hoseok’s hole to see how far he can spread him open. “Are you even ready for my cock?” he teases, blowing air on Hoseok’s wet rim just to make him squirm.

“Fuck, Tae,” Hoseok moans. “Jagi, I’m sorry, but I’ve been ready for over a year.”

“You’ve been very patient.” Taehyung sits back, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. “But you have to say please.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You always say I’m a good boy, hyung.” Taehyung drizzles the lube directly onto his cock and Hoseok’s hole. “All I’m asking is for you to be one, too.”

“Taehyung-ah, why do you do this to me? I thought this was a gift.” Hoseok groans and presses his forehead into the mattress. “Please.”

“Does this mean I’m acquitted of all charges of false advertisement?”

“If you actually do something!” The bed muffles Hoseok’s voice as his body trembles.

Taehyung grabs Hoseok with one hand, his hold snug at the crease where his thigh meets his hip. “I’ll give you what you want, but remember, hyung, you asked for it.” With his other hand, Taehyung rubs the tip of his cock against Hoseok’s hole. His precum mixes with lube.

Hoseok’s body tenses the moment Taehyung presses the head of his cock past his rim. With enough lube and preparation, Taehyung’s cock slides in without difficulty, though the fit is tight. He watches more of his cock sinks into Hoseok’s hole, his heat consuming him. Hoseok sucks him in, the grip unbelievably tight when Taehyung pulls back slightly just to ease back in again.

“Fuuuck,” Taehyung moans, letting his head fall back. He pants from his open mouth, eyes screwed shut. “I forgot how fucking good this feels.”

“Same,” Hoseok admits with a gasp.

Taehyung opens his eyes to look down at where their bodies connect. He runs his hands up Hoseok’s back, squeezing his shoulders as he pushes his hips flush against Hoseok’s ass and grinds into him as deeply as he can.

“God,” Hoseok groans, arching his back. “You’re so fucking big.”

Taehyung feels a sense of pride that’s different from when Hoseok praises his ass when he fucks Taehyung. It’s hard to explain, though both praises make his heart swell. Taehyung wraps an arm around Hoseok’s waist, pulling him closer so that their bodies are flush against each other. His chest presses to Hoseok’s back, his cock sliding in and out in a steady rhythm that makes Hoseok tremble. It’s not fast, but it’s deep. The position makes Taehyung overly aware of how fucking hot it is that Hoseok is naked underneath him while he's still fully clothed.

“Hyung, you’re so tight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok gasps, pushing back to meet each of Taehyung’s thrusts. Every time Taehyung pulls back, lube and precum squelch around his cock and sticks to Hoseok’s skin.

“Gonna fuck you every day, hyung. Multiple times a day. So I can make up for lost time,” Taehyung groans into the crook of Hoseok’s neck.

“Good.”

The single word from Hoseok is all Taehyung needs. He realizes he enjoys watching Hoseok fall apart. It’s satisfying, knowing he’s why Hoseok grips the sheets with white knuckles, eyes shut and mouth hanging open.

Hoseok’s mouth, such a pretty pink heart, wet with drool. Taehyung doesn’t care how messy it is when he leans in to capture Hoseok’s lips. He slides his tongue inside Hoseok’s mouth, licking and sucking like he had with his rim. They haven’t kissed nearly enough. Taehyung had wanted Hoseok to earn his kisses, back when he was trying to plan out what he thought Grindr Taehyung would do. Obviously, all his plans went to shit the moment he sank his cock into Hoseok’s ass.

Sitting back on his knees, Taehyung grabs Hoseok’s wrists. He forces Hoseok’s arms to his side and pulls on them, as though he’s using them as reigns to keep Hoseok steady as he fucks him with hard, sharp thrusts.

“Oh god,” Hoseok turns his head to the side so his cheek rubs against the mattress with each thrust. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and his cheeks are flushed with heat and sweat.

“I’m really sorry,” Taehyung groans, his hips moving faster now, “but I’m gonna come.” He can feel the coil of pleasure in him tightening, electricity sparking through his cock every time Hoseok squeezes around him.

Hoseok has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t apologize” — he tilts his head so he can look back at Taehyung more easily — “just come in me while you get me off, okay?”

“Fuck, okay, okay.”

Taehyung almost forgot that he has to help Hoseok get off. He can’t just get lost in the feeling of his cock driving in and out of Hoseok’s delicious, glorious, perfect hole. Taehyung releases one of Hoseok’s wrists and reaches around to squeeze Hoseok’s cock. His grip is firm, stroking in time with his thrusts.

“Yeah, like that.”

“There you go,” Taehyung murmurs. He moves faster, tightening around the shaft as he feels Hoseok’s cock twitch in his grasp. “Let go, hyung. I’ve got you.”

Taehyung feels Hoseok’s body tighten around him, the muscles in his ass spasming. It takes one last twist of Taehyung’s wrist and Hoseok’s body goes rigid as he spills into Taehyung’s hand with a loud sob of his name.

“Keep going, inside, Tae. It feels so, fuck.” Hoseok looks exhausted, sweaty and slumped into the mattress. The only reason he’s still on his knees is because Taehyung is holding him up.

They’re nearing Hoseok’s threshold for overstimulation. Despite being granted permission to continue, Taehyung focuses on finishing as quickly as possible. He squeezes Hoseok’s ass, giving it a slap that makes it jiggle as he fucks him, trying to avoid direct pressure to his prostate. He’s still holding Hoseok’s cock, and more cum spurts into his hand as he fucks it out of him.

And then the feeling inside of him snaps, the rush of pleasure shooting forward in a current Taehyung couldn’t stop if he tried. He pulls back as he comes with a groan through clenched teeth. When Taehyung pulls out completely, cum trickles from Hoseok’s hole and drips from his balls onto the bed.

“Shit.”

Hoseok rolls onto his back and throws his arms over his head, stretching them out from the uncomfortable position Taehyung had held them in. He squints up at Taehyung, probably trying to get a better look at his face as the candlelight casts flickering shadows across it.

“Tell me again why we haven’t done this before.” Hoseok’s voice is always raspy after sex. It makes Taehyung’s chest tingle.

Taehyung flops down face-first onto the bed beside Hoseok. The fabric muffles his voice when he responds, “Because I’m… stupid? And a criminal?”

Despite how sweaty Taehyung is, Hoseok’s fingers slide along the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. It tickles, but Taehyung tries his best not to squirm.

“You’re not stupid.”

“But I am a criminal.”

Hoseok snorts. When Taehyung turns his head to peer at Hoseok through one cracked eye, he’s met with a heart-shaped smile.

“I should at least sue you for all you’re worth. All that corporate money,” Hoseok suggests. “What do you think?”

Taehyung’s whole body feels like jelly, but he’s never felt more secure than he does when he’s with Hoseok.

“I was hoping my plan of fucking you multiple times a day was good reparations, actually.”

With a fit of giggles threatening to slip out, Hoseok leans in to give Taehyung a fat kiss on the forehead. And, of course, Taehyung is a goner because he realizes he can be TAEHYUNG, 28, DOM TOP, and still be Hoseok’s little baby.

So maybe he was kind of stupid.

Hoseok says he loves him, anyway.

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap @remmykinsff

#bts fanfic #taehyung x hoseok #vhope fanfic #vhope au #bts smut #bts fluff #vhope smut #vhope fluff #gimmethatagustd #false advertisement

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 10 months ago

Text

The Rift - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dream/nightmare sequences, mentions of spouse death and hypothetical child death (in the dream sequence), angst, references to smut, m/m/m/f dynamics

Summary: Each Marcus deals with conflicting emotions after spending the night together.

A/N: WHOOPS, who let all the angst in here???? Sorry about that!

Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Next chapter>>

(Moreno)

Marcus Moreno is about to die. Alien tentacles ooze toward him out of a strange crack in the world itself, moving with terrifying speed. He can choose to draw his swords and ready himself, or to shove the people beside him away and out of danger, but not both. He’s somehow both controlling his body and observing the scene from the outside as he turns to see a pretty young woman with fierce eyes, a man dressed in Roman armor, and the FBI Agent he admires so much that it hurts. They all look at him with fear in their eyes as he lets out a strangled yell and throws them out of harm’s way with all of his strength. They land on the pavement several feet away, but it’s not far enough. The tentacles engulf them, and Marcus cries out in anguish as he draws his swords, slashing and hacking frantically, spilling thick, black blood everywhere as he tries to reach his loved ones.

He throws off the last of the writhing black mess, but somehow, the three people he had thought had been there before have changed. Now, only two bodies lie broken and bloodied on the pavement–one much smaller than the other. When he sees the eyes of his late wife staring unseeingly up at the sky, he drops to his knees with a guttural scream of grief and pain. He can’t bring himself to look at the second body, knowing exactly what he’ll see when he does.

No, he whispers as tears fall down his cheeks. No, no, no, no–

He shoots up in bed, gasping for air. He’s soaked in sweat and shaking uncontrollably, heart still pounding in his chest from the remnants of the dream. It’s only when something shifts behind him, a broad, bare chest turning and facing the other direction does he remember he’s not alone.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes his movements hadn’t woken anyone else. Carefully, he scoots down the bed, avoiding several pairs of legs, and retrieves his phone from the pocket of his discarded pants before retreating to the living room.

Hey, he taps out a message. How’s college life?

He stands in the middle of the room, staring down at the bright screen and feeling rather awkward in his nudity, not really expecting a response at this time of night but wishing with every atom in his body for one anyway.

He’s about to give up and try to force himself back to sleep when three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen.

M: Who’s asking, leader of the Heroics or my papá?

Marcus snorts softly.

Do I receive a different response depending on my answer?

M: 1. I am studying at the library, or 2. It’s dollar beer night at Lotus.

He smiles.

I choose option 1, obviously.

M: The real question is what are YOU doing up so late?

Couldn’t sleep. Just felt the need to check in on you. Everything okay?

M: Everything’s fine. Are YOU okay? You haven’t sent me Worried Dad texts in the middle of the night in a while.

Marcus begins tapping out a response, deletes it, starts again, and deletes that too. He sighs, glancing warily back at the bedroom. I’m afraid to let anyone else into my life, he wants to tell her. You’re my only success story, and I worry every day that I’m going to lose you, too.

It’s too much to lay on his twenty-one year-old daughter, so he turns it into a joke instead.

I’m short on my Dad quota and wanted to make sure the Dad Boss doesn’t fire me.

M: You’re weird.

Ever heard the saying ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?’

The message is left unread for several minutes, and he imagines that her friends are all goading her to get off her phone and rejoin the fun. Good. He does all the worrying for both of them, so that she can remain carefree. He smiles softly and taps out one last text.

Have a good night, bug. Call me sometime. xo

He locks his phone and holds it at his side, but remains standing in the same place, mulling over his thoughts.

He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when he said it had been a long time since he’d had… well, anyone really. The last time he’d had sex was during a disastrous no-strings-attached hookup after one of his coworkers convinced him to download some app and set up a profile. That was… shit, it had to be almost two years ago now. He hadn’t realized it had been quite that long.

The last time he had a relationship was more of a trick question. He dated a few people on and off, once Missy had been able to mostly fend for herself at home, but they never lasted long or ever became serious. None of them had even met his daughter. The real answer to ‘when was your last relationship’ was ‘not since his wife died.’

It wasn’t just that no one could compare to her. It was that he couldn’t allow them the opportunity to even try. The closer people are to him, the more danger he puts them in.

But ever since a certain FBI Agent waltzed into his office and asked so earnestly for his help, he found himself wanting to let someone in for the first time in a very long while.

And now, to his great surprise and bewilderment, he has not just one more person he cares about, but three. Can he let himself get closer again? Can he afford to?

He looks at the book left open on the coffee table. At first he thinks there must be something wrong with his eyes, because the words all look like gibberish, but then he realizes the book is in Latin. Oh. Somehow he had forgotten that Marcus Acacius did not actually belong here. He can’t tell if the thought troubles him or relieves him–knowing that one less person will be in danger because of him.

The Heroic debates sleeping on the couch for a few moments, but the remnants of the dream still trickle unpleasantly through his bloodstream, and he doesn’t want to be alone. Carefully, he pads back into the bedroom and crawls back into the still-empty space that he had vacated.

He lies awake for a long time, listening to the sound of breathing.

(Pike)

Marcus stirs, cracking open his eyes to see the first rays of daylight reflecting on the wall opposite your bedroom window. He rolls onto his back, being careful not to wake you as he turns over. Moreno is snoring softly beside him, looking peaceful. This is the only time he hasn’t seen worry lines etched on the man’s forehead, and he wonders about the burden of one man trying to protect the entire world.

The Roman is already awake, piercing brown eyes meeting his with a mischievous twinkle. Marcus nods to him in greeting and gives him a small, crooked smile. The other man reaches over the Hero to run the tip of his index finger down the length of Marcus’s arm, and he shivers softly.

“Early riser,” he comments in a whisper.

“I have always risen with the sun.”

“Makes both of us,” Marcus grins.

“And decidedly not our hostess.”

They both laugh quietly, not wanting to wake the other occupants of the bed.

“Coffee?” he asks the Roman.

“I would love some.”

Marcus helps himself to your kitchen, knowing exactly where you keep your coffee grounds and filters. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so at home in someone else’s space; he’s spent more time here over the past several weeks than he’s spent at his own apartment, and from the beginning he had secretly preened over the excuse to get to know you better.

At first, your temporary houseguest had been a slightly befuddling distraction–his distinctive presence ensured that he looked completely out of place in every environment, and his constant refrain of “Quid est, quid est, quid est” was equal parts endearing and frustrating. Marcus didn’t often feel like a small man, but he couldn’t deny that the way the General’s broad shoulders seemed to fill every room had him feeling some kind of way about it.

It’s a fascination, he had told himself so many times. A temporary infatuation that’s distracting you from the woman of your dreams.

When the translators were introduced, and the Roman’s sharp wit and mischievous sense of humor could be understood for the first time, the pull became even stronger. It didn’t help that the man seemed to be a shameless flirt with everyone–himself, you, and when Moreno began spending the odd evening here, him too.

Even so, the events of the previous night had been so far beyond his imagination that he can hardly make sense of it. Marcus has always been a serial monogamist, hopping from one way-too-serious relationship to another and hoping against all odds that the next one wouldn’t end in disaster. He’s never been able to do anything that could remotely be considered casual.

He had no concept of what last night had meant.

He pours the coffee into two mugs–dumping a fair amount of cream and sugar in one, and far less in his own–and hands one to Acacius.

“You are pensive this morning,” he remarks, his voice still carrying a light rasp from sleep.

“Just thinking.”

“You and the Hero both strike me as men who are inclined to think themselves into an early grave.”

Marcus snorts. “That might be true.” Might be. Everyone he’s ever known has called him an over-thinker. “You're a great tactician when it comes to war,” he challenges the man. “Surely you appreciate the benefits of analysis.”

“There is analyzing a situation, and then there is helpfully standing in place wondering what action you are going to take while the enemy completely surrounds you.”

Marcus pauses, coffee cup halfway to his lips, and really looks at the man beside him, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. He tries to imagine him in the armor he had been wearing that first night, bruised and bloodied, leading the armies of Rome with a fierce battle cry. “I don't often find myself surrounded by an army.”

“The enemy can be many things. There is a word for this, no?”

“A metaphor?”

“Mmm,” he grunts in assent. “When is an army not really an army?”

Marcus smiles to himself, setting the mug down on the counter and staring into the middle distance. “So, what do you think my enemy is?”

The General looks him up and down. “The things that you carry with you.”

His eyes snap to Acacius in shock and surprise. The man is discerning–alarmingly so, at times. Marcus’s breath catches in his throat when he responds thickly, “What is it that you think I’m carrying?”

“This is not for me to know,” the man remarks casually, raising one eyebrow. “Unless you are wanting to tell me something?”

“What are you two chattering about?” your soft voice cuts through their conversation. Marcus turns to see you padding toward them wearing only a shirt and looking satisfyingly mussed.

“A soldier that carries the weight of his past failure into the next battle will surely lose,” the General says cryptically.

You stare at the two of them blankly. “Yeah, I’m gonna need some coffee if you’re going to be talking like that.” You look at Marcus shyly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Marcus doesn’t know what to do. Does he kiss you? Is that rude? He wants to reach for you, to take you into his arms, but the two other men have him at a loss–how does one act after group sex? He has no blueprint for this situation.

“How lucky we are to have such a beautiful woman in front of us, still looking so well-fucked from our attentions last night.” The other man croons, moving closer to Marcus and nosing the shell of his ear.

Feeling emboldened by the other man’s candor, he extends his arm to you, and you immediately fill the space perfectly, your head resting against his bare chest. Marcus presses a soft kiss to your forehead. With the General at his back, he feels completely surrounded by warmth–and wonders, despite himself, if he might be lucky enough to hold onto this feeling. The only thing better would be…

“Our other Marcus still asleep?” he jokes.

“The Hero was awake for some time in the night,” Acacius comments.

Ah. That explains it. “We’ll let him sleep, then.”

“Or,” you say with a sultry smile, “or we could all three of us go back and… wake him up.”

(Acacius)

Marcus Acacius likes this more than anything else. More than any of the hedonistic acts that had come before, more than the thrill of building sexual tension between partners, is this:

The utter decadence of sweaty, sated bodies, limbs tangled together… delicious.

The hero lies boneless, half-sprawled over him. A man who has been pushed into a position of strength all his life, he finally appears free of all those expectations here. The General has always been able to read people, but it hardly took any effort at all to see that Marcus Moreno desperately craved the ability to let go. His breath shudders slightly on the exhale, and the other man curled around him makes a soft noise of inquiry.

“Feel okay?”

“Mmhmm,” the hero mumbles, not opening his eyes, and Acacius smiles.

The Agent, on the other hand, is much like himself, in that he seems to be just as comfortable in a position of power as he is in submission. Marcus hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the man as he guided the hero through his first time receiving–gentle, but firm, one hand wrapped around the man’s cock and the other grasping his shoulder for leverage, his fingers always reaching possessively for his neck. Marcus Pike does not simply take a lover, the General concluded, he desires to own them.

It was that obvious possessiveness that had kept Marcus from insisting the Agent share with the others the night previous, allowing him to be the sole proprietor of your pleasure–but the way the man had shuddered at the sight of his beloved with his own thick cock down your throat gave him less qualms about the matter today.

And if that resulted in Marcus delighting in the hot, wet clutch of your cunt for himself, that was simply a fringe benefit, was it not? Oh, you were a sweet one, and it was easy to see why Pike was completely enraptured. You whimpered so beautifully when he broke you open for the first time, squirming around his cock with a little wrinkle of discomfort on your forehead. When the Agent reached down to palm your cheek and soothe you through it, you greedily sucked his thumb into your mouth and bit down gently, eliciting a soft groan from the man.

Marcus eventually flipped you on your stomach to take you fast and hard, mirroring the intensity of the two men beside you. You were delirious, drunk on your own pleasure, but still had the presence of mind to reach out and stroke the cheek of the Hero, who was moaning into the pillow next to you. You smiled softly, seeing the other man’s overwhelmed expression, and moved yourself closer to him. The two of you were still tangled together when you reached the point of ecstasy.

You’re curled into Marcus’s chest now, your soft breaths disturbing the smattering of hair and your warm body leaving his own glistening with sweat. You beside him, the Hero sprawled bonelessly on top of him, and the Agent with his arm draped over top, his fingers brushing against the top of his pubic bone–and Marcus Acacius feels utterly at peace.

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #marcus acacius #the mentalist #we can be heroes #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

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dapurinthos · 9 months ago

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the facts were these (/pushing daisies narrator man i miss pushing daisies):

jedi facts: in this nebulous '5th quarter', a skirmish broke out on felucia, sifo was assigned to negotiate peace talks. peace talks ‘failed’, he was ‘killed’. there was a 2nd jedi present when he ‘died’. sifo’s body was cremated.

valorum’s facts: it was a senate committee working on the syndicate matter but shame shame drugs shame valorum himself contacted sifo to ‘stabilize’ things sifo AND silman were killed on felucia no bodies

pyke facts: we know nothing masters jedi sirs. honest. okay we saw him but we didn’t see anyone else. okay okay we saw him AND the advisor. we shot ‘em both down over our moon because we made an alliance with this guy calling himself tyranus. we retrieved the jedi’s body and snatched up the advisor, didn’t tell tyranus. u want him? u can have him.

silman’s facts: they TRICKED US precious the pykes killed sifo because tyranus wanted to use his identity

dooku's facts: sifo-dyas understood he saw the future that is why he helped me

the floating timeline of sifo goes like this:

tan divo & the coruscant police’s racist investigations (prior) unhelpful; investigations into hutts go slightly better (35BBY)

other syndicates threatening a full-out gang war in the coruscant underworld due to the pykes’ almost complete control over the production of raw spice (kessel, etc.)

senate committee goes uh-oh

valorum goes uh-oh, calls sifo for a meeting

sifo departs coruscant w/ silman, in a jedi t-6 shuttle

sifo & silman (the delegation) arrive on oba-diah

council messages with orders to attend to flare up on felucia

sifo leaves oba diah with silman, reaches distance of oba diah moon before being shot down by the pykes. silman is taken by the pykes.

dooku arrives at jedi temple (to delete kamino data), talks with jocasta, qui-gon, yaddle

battle of theed (45.04.19 hurrah an actual date)

at least one night passes; news of qui-gon’s death percolates.

dooku goes to confront sidious, has already ‘dealt’ with sifo-dyas, precise dates of 'dealing with' unknown.

what the fuck is a fifth quarter? it’s the time of year between black friday or christmas and the end of january in the us apparently. it’s a fiscal term. or, legally, the three full calendar months of the thirteenth calendar month from the final closing date. whatever the fuck THAT means in this gffa. HOWEVER we know there is calendric fuckery because this is star wars there is ALWAYS calendric fuckery. judicial uses the 10 month calendar. coruscant reckoning uses a (supposedly) 365 day calendar (i make this work by saying there are 3 uncounted days, the way the 10-month calendar is both 350 days AND 368 days).

possibilities: ‘the fifth quarter’ refers to those days in the 10-month calendar that aren’t counted; it’s the time between the festival of stars and new year (both one-week holidays). HOWEVER HOWEVER they also totally screwed up how the dates go by putting the battle of yavin too late in the coruscant reckoning year that it necessitates the phantom menace taking place in 33BBY so that’s what i think of THAT calendar (i did figure out the equalisation tho because i am like that. the crc has to start on 11.33 of the 10-month calendar). it can ALSO be the summer if you're talking in terms of school. ffs.

or, since the crc was done BASED ON VIBES we can go based on MY vibes (which are objectively correct) and place sifo-dyas's death date on 04.04 because:

four is death

it's before all of naboo, which puts it in line w/ tales of the jedi

it's recent enough that dooku's still doing to be a complete scribble over it

it works with disney AND legends in that it takes place post-perlemian gathering/kamino-informing and before naboo

the nitty-gritty (but not the nitty-nitty gritty) timeline (brackets are my own personal timeline, the / dates are how far through the year they are, counting down, so 32.9BBY is the 2nd month of 33BBY):

42.??.??, 35BBY: tan divo’s investigations into pyke spice trafficking begins. he fucks this up by giving into racism and believing all pykes are involved in this spice trafficking. 33BBY/32.8 (44.05.26): yinchorri attack on jedi temple; two killed; proposed point at which sifo leaves the council (final attempt at getting council to believe in his vision of the necessity of an army in the wake of the yinchorri incident, in the wake of the yam’rii incident) 32.5 (08.26): eriadu trade conference; assassination of trade fed. leadership 32.4 (09.23): passing of prop 31-814D, taxing free trade zones ???: trip to kwenn (unknown date, only that sifo is not on council) 32.4 (09.31): finis valorum under investigation for corruption 32.4: mas amedda appointed vice chancellor; valorum’s powers limited (10.01): valorum appears before court to answer corruption charges 32.3/10.05: election day, standard day each year; amidala elected queen 32BBY (45.03.23): chommell sector summit announcement 32 (03.35): gathering on perlemian orbital facility (plagueis drops the anvil about kamino to sifo-dyas) (04.02): valorum calls meeting with sifo, he and silman depart later that day (04.03): arrival on oba diah (04.04): message from council, re: felucia; departure from oba diah; shot down (04.05): blockade of naboo begins; 1 week since perlemian gathering

31.9BBY/04.14: the phantom menace begins.

04.18: arrival on coruscant; dooku & qui-gon speak during the day after the first high council meeting, before qui-gon goes to collect anakin from palpatine’s residence; departure for naboo that night; flight takes overnight. 04.19: v. early morning on coruscant is ~ mid-afternoon naboo time; occurrence of deaths: plagueis (early CR) > qui-gon (aft NB) > maul (aft NB); naboo is about 12+ hours ahead of coruscant in terms of time; result of no-confidence vote daytime on coruscant (evening naboo) 04.20: swearing-in of chancellor palpatine (coruscant day), jedi ready to leave for naboo in afternoon (early morning 21st naboo > arrival late 21st naboo). dooku confronts sidious at the limerge building in the works just before sunset. kills yaddle. there’s probably a sloppy attempt at sex here because dooku just wants out of his own head sorry not sorry 04.21: sidious departs for naboo, early coruscant morning 04.22 naboo: funeral of qui-gon jinn held 3 days post-battle of theed in naboo evening (coruscant morning)

#keeping up with the skywalkers #a whole bunch of timelining and reasoning

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vqrtualheartss · 2 years ago

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42!Miles x Black!Fem!Y/N ― “They sleepin' on you” part two

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Y'all didn't expect this huh (My bad for the 5- week wait pookiess― promise I love y'all) Anyways, part one Obviously there will be a part three in two weeks or less

The teased rain from the night before had eased up, a few sheer droplets appearing here and there, and the cold breeze making her aware of her exposed hair. Immediately after getting her body into comfort, (y/n) furrowed her brows in remembrance of her dream. It was of her and Miles going out and giggling, just like the day before ―just what she did not need―. Bringing her phone over her face, the reflection made her suck her teeth and staple a mental note to book a hair appointment today. As if her missing bonnet wasn't already the most out-of-place thing she needed, something on her phone sent her into a deeper confusion.

11:37 AM ― Oh damn? No, not that, that

Hi Miss Mysterious sleeping already?

It was easy to figure whom the person was, having known who was to call her by that name.

Yes I was 'sleeping already'. It was almost 2 in the morning nigga

I planted my phone face down with absolutely no expectancy of a reply. I mean, why would I expect one? After a quiet 3 minutes my phone pinged with a notification.

Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? miles trust and believe that i don't need you making me miserable right now ouch that hurt ... all that progress yesterday for nun?

I squinted my eyes, subconsciously tapping on the side of my phone still opened on Miles' thread. He did go through all that trial and tribulation. Ah, fuck it

myf, I just don't feel alright aight all good so.. so? dry ass texts ― message deleted i saw that okay and? pick up huh?

My phone started to ring, and with no immediate excuse to mind, I answered.

Miles had a PlayStation controller in his hands, headset tucked underneath his braids but the microphone attachment over his mouth still.

"Hello to you too (y/n)'s wall" "Real funny. Hi Miles"

"Just woke up?" Through the tiny window I could see him pressing back into the reclining gaming chair. It had purple streaks all over it

"hmm, how'd you know?"

Looking into my recent chats, I found the user I was looking for. "You sound like a man" My thumb lingered over the profile picture. Did I hear that jiggaboo right?

"Funny how I sound like one more than you do" I smirked at his new found expression, trying to sight any open bookings my stylist offered between the time-frame of today and Saturday.

"What's that shit to mean" He questioned with a defeated tone, his ever so nonchalant look mixed with petulance.

"Play silly games, win silly prizes" He rolled his eyes before fixing his posture and pressing harder into the controller. Sassy much?

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Moving away from the phone unnoticed, (y/n) slumped herself to get ready for the 1pm appointment she barely managed to snatch.

Thank God for cancelling clients, she sighed with relief coming outside the bathroom wearing an off-the-shoulder shirt and casual sweats with her pre-washed hair in a loosely tied, top knot bun.

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Retrieving her charging phone, she furrowed her brows, shaking her head and smiling at the flood of texts.

"you there?" "(y/n)" "(y/n)?" "everything good?" "atleast shake the phone if you're okay"

I sent him a text saying that I was fine, it didn't go through. "Weird" Grabbing a sizeable shoulder bag, I put my purse and card in it, texting my mother my location while closing the front door.

Being distracted placing my keys and phone inside the bag, a big pair of hands held onto my forearms. I screamed, squirming and forcing my way outside the grip before a hand covered my mouth. "Shut u― CHILL. SHH" I looked up at the person before tilting my head with an aloof expression, hitting a smiling Miles on his shoulder "Not funny" "Making me think that you were in danger isn't either―"

"Okay― Wait― How do you know where I live"

"Asked your friend"

Now what if I got kidnapped Would you complain?

He did a once-over at me, raising a brow

"Are you really wearing a mask just to do your hair ?" He shook his head, pointing to the bag I held.

"What―" I raised a hand over my mouth, clutching onto the bag of braids and speed-walking to the salon. "Late?" Because of you― "yea". Before I finished, he grasped onto my hand, dragging me through different lanes and shortcuts, call me crazy but some real kidnapping shit going on

"Calm, I don't plan on taking you away" "I said that out loud?" He chuckled softly at my dumbfounded expression.

Standing infront the lightly tinted, push-and-pull doors, I turned to him.

"How do you know so many― I don't even care― Just― Thank you for getting me here" "No problem" "Can you hold this for me?"

Giving him the bag of hair, I expected him to let go of my hand but nope. Instead he took his time slowly rubbing my thumb in patterns with his as I reached for my phone. We arrived earlier than expected.

"So, see you later?" "Who said I was leaving" He can't be serious "Suit yourself, I can't help if anyone hits on you. A lot of your fan-girls are probably in there" "Would you even be able to? Aren't you like 5"5?" "Not you flexing being a giraffe" "Not you not being able to"

Finally entering the store, we stood awaiting the hairdresser that told us to do so. I pinched Miles' hand with my index and thumb, forcing him to untangle them. He flicked my arm in retaliatilon but before I could do anything, I was embraced by the 20 year old stylist, Keziah. She's one of my close friends, basically an older sister to me, probably how I slipped into my appointment so quick.

We engaged in small talk as she led me over to her station. With my hair down and out, Miles snapped a picture, I posed with a peace sign before pointing at him. "I know, I know. I won't post it" Having no other way of showing gratitude, I made a heart sign, to which he photographed again.

Look who's getting comfortable with someone she swore she'd never talk to

"Y'all together?" "nah, he's my friend" "sure, but believe me, I've heard that from one too many people one too many times. It's all the same ending " "which is?" "the inevitable, falling in lovee"

She made a heart gesture with her fingers to which I playfully rolled my eyes to. In the vanity mirror I peeked Miles' head buried deep in his phone. Looking up, he smiled and waved. Aww

Deciding on knee-length knotless, as expected, the wait took a longg time.

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Throughout the 8 hours (y/n) couldn't help but soften up at the things Miles did for her.

★ · When her neck hurt, he went out to buy a stuffed toy, earning laughs at the name he picked out for it ―Milo, despite not deciding the gender beforehand. Coincidence or not, it was in her favorite color, easily gaining its spot in her heart as a #1 gift. Maybe it was that or the fact that she got it from Miles, either way she adored it.

★ · For the umpteenth time she had reminded Miles of his freedom to leave, and each time he gave the same answer

"You can leave y'know" "Who said I wanted to"

★ · Halfway through, he fell asleep and seizing the opportunity, she took a picture unbeknownst that the flash was on and waking him. Snatching the plush from her hands as revenge, he laughed when she asked for it back with grabby hands.

"Okay, no. Milo is my child and therefore off-limits, give him back" "As Milo's biological father I believe I also get a say in who's care he's in" "And as Milo's biological mother and current guardian I want him back" "Nahh you'll be fine, sit still"

The teasing had Keziah chucking softly over (y/n)'s head, resulting in her putting on a forced anger expression that, however, quickly dissipated.

"Look, mami's angry Milo" "I hate you" "You love me"

★ · Nearing to the end with two braids left, she asked Miles his opinion on what to add. Miles he would've found it cheesy be it any other girl, but he felt happy, ―lovesick even― by her asking for his opinion on something so minor. 'The small things' he'd call it.

"Curls or no curls?" He thought long and hard before answering, he swore you'd look great with either. "Curls"

Closing her eyes as Keziah wrapped the end of her braids with curlers, she heard a buzz from her bag draped across his lap.

"Could you hand me that please?"

The new notification was a message from Miles. Looking at her phone, (y/n) couldn't help but smile.

"you ok?" "I've been ok for the last 13 times you asked" "I'm just worried about you" "What the fuck is tjag Fyt ??"

Spotting Keziah walking with a kettle in her hands she could only assume that was what he was referring to. Pointing at it, she tilted her head as if to ask:

"You mean that?"

He shook his head in response, watching closely as Keziah dipped her hair into the hot liquid. Slightly wincing in pain, he put Milo in her hold, it didn't go unnoticed by (y/n) how their fingers interlocked over the others before pulling away. Ouhh

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Ending off the night with the ladies talking briefly, it finally dawned on (y/n) how late it was getting, ―deciding to pay and leave.

On the other side of the door they stood separated; no type of touch between the two. Miles had his hands in his pockets, (y/n) holding tightly onto Milo. Usually, she was so accustomed to the sting of fresh-braids but no sah, this time it didn't work out like that.

Walking, he looked over his shoulder to see me still put, holding onto the back of my head for dear life and rubbing it. Just how long was that water boiling for? "You good?" "No" my answer― even thought against my will― came off somewhat harsh, tiredness and pain driving me agitated. Now standing infront me, he silenced my ever occurring grunts with a hug? Placing his hand over mine, he started to knead away the pressure, the tension within fading. After some time he hoisted my chin with curled fingers. "Better?" I mumbled an incoherent "Mhm" falling back into his hold and wrapping my arms around him loosely.

I don't know why I did that, well, I'm trying to push away a few ideas but even they're too out-of-reach. Looking up at him, he smiled. I returned it, my half-opened eyes closing fully before I let out a yawn. Hurriedly, I slapped a hand over my mouth as he laughed "How 'bout we head back to your place, sounds good?"

I felt drunk with fatigue miserably stumbling over my own two feet. It didn't help that Miles was laughing like a rass hyena helping me up.

"Can't hold a joke?" I tilted my head, lazily crossing my arms "Come here" He dragged me nearer to him with one arm around my neck, hugging me as we walked. I thought our feet would get caught up from us walking so close, the idea made me giggle.

He guided me the way home and when I tell you that déjà vu hit like a bus, believe me. We sounded like those recordings that had people talking as if they're in their own little world with the calming songs in the background. (Hope it makes sense lol) If anything, a video from some vintage camera would make us look like starring actors playing school-kids from a sappy love-sick drama .

Nah, that's too far. It's just a friendly encounter, nothing to go feral about...yeah

-------- Heyy, it's Wednesday

Dropping my head into my palms, I scanned my bed. Usually, as you can tell, I don't wake up this early, but the pain from the braids was too much for my subconscious to bear even after being alleviated. It wasn't anything concerning or harsh on my scalp but― ugh― how do I explain― it's like when there's a mosquito right, it's not doing you anything but it's there and being bat-shit annoying.

I slapped my forehead repeatedly, waking up myself to get ready to conquer day 2/6 of holiday. Trust me, extra sleep would be greatly appreciated, but I think it's time to give my bed a rest. Throwing on cargo shorts and a loose-fitting top, I did my hair in a low bun with a headband after doing any chores I think I'd get penalized for ―nothing atrocious though. Just the regular like cleaning my room and doing my section of the roster―

----

Taking a water for myself, I slid a bottle of juice down to my sibling per her request. Dae, my 14 y/o sister, is almost a mini-me; she reads a lot, plays most games I do, and really really quirky ―in a good way though, fs . But unlike me, she's what you'd call a 'social butterfly' and a pretty one too, genes run strong in the family i guess.

Sitting on the counter-top I flicked through whatever the media had to offer, Dae staring at me with a knowing look and crossed arms. Glances like that would've normally been exchanged from the two of us but this time I had no clue what's going on

"Your boyfriend seems nice" "My who now?" "Y'know, your Prince Naveen with the braids that held you oh so close to his manly chest"

In the middle of her sentence she held overlapping hands over her arms and twirling. She talked in a ludicrous princess voice; to which I cringed heavily at, earning laughs from her.

"He's not my boyfriend" "Soo you're like that with all your male friends?" Which male friends? "NO―"

She started to eye me up and down with a cheeky smile. I looked at her blankly, eyebrows drawing nearer as her smile got wider. She opened her phone, scrolling through something before she brought it up to my hand, urging for me to hold it. It was a thread of messages

"Even ma' likes him" This the intervention or sumn' ? "Wait― Hold on― What?" "I was on a call with her, and not gonna lie. You looked drunk as hell"

Flashbackk ¦

"You can leave me here, my house is right around the corner" Lifting herself off of Miles' body, (y/n) pointed groggily towards a shop. Hissing his teeth, he brought her back to her original position with a soft pull on her arm. "If it's right there we can just walk. What if something happens to you?" Shrugging, she clinged onto his arm for support. Stunned by the sudden affection, it was hard to bite back the smile that cuffed his lips. He felt something dull surge within his body when she didn't smile back, well, when her eyes didn't squeeze together like they usually would.

¦ In the past few hours (y/n) found the walls she built for her own protection falter; the bits left crumbling every time she interacted with him. Miles Morales did something to (y/n), be it the way he looked at her, the things he did, the stupid stuff they talked about; whatever it was, it was serenating. But she knew giving in would could cost her a lot ― much more than her 'ghost' reputation, it was her sanity at stake.

For Miles, all that mattered was the girl tucked underneath his arm, it's hand intertwined with hers― a stance they were sure to grow fond of. Unsure why he was acting the way he was, he found himself wanting to do and be so much more than an 'accomplice' by her. He wanted to watch every late 90's romance-movie while taking down the braids he wished he could've funded for her. For her, he would splurge his life savings on anything she could ever want and need. Miles knew that the Ms. Independent in her would never let him, something he admired about her. He grew to admire a lot about her. She's going to work me hard

Right now, our favorite two were in front the (l/n)'s residence as she frantically searched for her keys. Opening the door, she stood nervously as Miles remained outside, (y/n) went back down the steps to face Miles before―

Flash ¦

Hiding her phone in an instant, Dae smiled innocently, chuckling softly as she made way to her room.

"My dearest princess Tiana, whenever you're done dreaming about your prince Naveen and you find yourself needing me. Well, which I hope not, I'll be playing Valorant's new season" "There's a new season?" With her head peeking out the door frame, she narrowed her eyes "I don't know, fuck around and find out"

Before I could say something she shut her door. Yup, mini-me. I took up my phone in reaction to the notification sound, it was a message from Lailah.

"Mind explaining why thee Miles Morales wants your house address?"

okay culprit.

"took his book on accident" "so what you're telling me is" "You saw miles in the flesh and blood within less than three feet?" "Eww lailah" "It sounds weird like that" "girl, you cannot tell me that you don't find him cute" "who?" "miles?"

If you want him girl take him, I certainly won't

"..obviously" "nope...you do?" "who doesn't" "I'm worried about you" "wtv"

I scoffed.

What's so special about him? He looks like every other guy, like literally. The only difference is probably his jawline, smile, eyes..how all his features just make him look so. so. so.. majestic? I hissed and laid down on the countertop, groaning when my hands couldn't push my head any deeper into the material as I accepted defeat. The image of just him doing anything could bring a smile and not a scowl to my face. Ew

I hate this― whatever that he's making me feel, I don't like it.

I'll be staring part three for my other story and also this one

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n7punk · 2 months ago

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Y'all I am DISCOVERING things

So if you do a native export of your tumblr blog, it delivers all the information to you in the least helpful way ever, but if you drill down into the posts folder there's a "submissions" subfolder.

This folder only contains html files named a string of numbers. This is how all the export files look, they're usually named the ID string for a post, but these are labeled "submissions", so lets take a look shall we?

It's spam, obviously, the same spam bots everyone has been getting, but I've never posted this and I don't have it in my inbox right now, and all my recent (higher number) files in this folder look like this.

Now, take a step back. 2020. Real ones remember I am campaigning because I have asks stuck in my inbox. I physically cannot delete them. I hit the delete button, it does the animation of it flying away into the ether, but the number of asks in my inbox doesn't go down, and when I refresh the page they're still there. It's especially broken because asks that were sent back to me as private replies years ago look like they're being answered by anons. I contact Tumblr support and they tell me there's nothing they can do. I called these my ghost asks.

Literal years later, they suddenly all vanish, but the number of asks it says I have doesn't change. An anon advises me to go on mobile and hit delete all, at which point I discover there are a few asks there I never saw on desktop! After taking care of those, hitting delete all works and my number goes down to 0 for the first time in years.

Flash forward. 2024. For a little bit I keep getting asks notifications appearing above the icon on desktop, but when I click on it, there's nothing new there. Sometimes the number of asks on the right goes up, sometimes it's the same. I posted saying sorry if you're sending me asks, they're getting eaten, but I theorize that I'm actually getting spam and the accounts are being deleted from others reporting them before I see the asks.

Well it turns out there are a fuckton of asks secretly associated with your account. This submissions folder contains all asks in your askbox - the ones you know about (three for me, sorry y'all I swear I planned to reply), and the ones you don't. That's right, all the anon hate you've ever received in your life is in this folder.

So far as I can tell, if you do not 1) post, 2) privately answer, or 3) manually delete an ask, then even if (especially if) you block that person, even if that person gets wiped off the face of the earth for spam, even if Tumblr breaks so much it thinks an anonymous is answering your own message into your inbox, it all stays right here and the only way you can possibly retrieve it is by doing this native export. I have no idea why it works like this but I had 117 of these things. It's so funny because you can see the direct jump in IDs from my Tumblr break to when I started being active again in 2020.

Anyway, I highly recommend you don't do this because you're inviting back into your life all the energy you managed to block before, but I did save twelve (12) asks that are mostly old convos with friends from the proto days. Why the fuck do you work like this Tumblr. Seriously.

And because it's funny, here's the oldest of the busted asks I was talking about, URL blocked out for privacy, but as you can guess, I was the one who sent the initial message, but instead it listed the receiver as the sender and an anonymous as the answerer

#Tumblr #words and things

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violet-lazer · 2 years ago

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First Kisses : Papal Edition - Secondo

Content / Warnings : Secondo/Reader, Mature (Language, Suggestiveness), Gender-Neutral Reader, 1.5k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

Your first kiss with Secondo.

With a good amount of trepidation coursing through your veins, you lift your hand to the door of Secondo’s office and give two firm knocks, attempting to ignore the knot in your stomach as you await a response. After a moment or two, his voice rings sharp and clear through the wood-panelled door.

“Enter.”

You gather yourself and push open the door, taking a few short steps into the room. Secondo, seated at his desk, clearly in the middle of some paperwork, lifts his head to meet your gaze. Placing his pen down, he steeples his fingers and leans forward slightly as he addresses you.

“Ah. Welcome. Do you know why I have summoned you?”

“No, Papa,” you lie.

Even underneath his paint, you see him quirk an eyebrow. He hums, reaching into a drawer, retrieving his phone and placing it on the surface of the desk, screen facing you. He beckons you to come closer, and you reluctantly oblige. Reluctantly, because you know you’re facing your own oblivion in bright illuminated text. Since last night you’ve been living in desperate, foolish hope that what is currently happening might not happen. As you lean in close to assess the damage, a small, involuntary groan escapes you. You’re looking, as you knew you would be, at the message thread between you and Secondo on his personal, private number.

This was Terzo’s fault. You’ve been known to blame many of your personal problems on Terzo, but this one was indisputable.

“Personally,” he’d said, leaning over to purr into your ear as the two of you watched Secondo conduct mass, “I think you should tell him.”

From your latecomers’ vantage point at the back of the chapel, you’d torn your eyes from the altar, from Secondo, and looked at Terzo incredulously. Oh, here we go. Terzo is doling out romantic advice again. Perfect.

“I don’t want to do that,” you’d said. You don’t. You do.

Terzo had rolled his eyes at this, and tutted condescendingly.

“Have it your way. I would advise doing something to halt your descent into madness, though. When I am battling my feelings-”

“What feelings?”

“When I am battling my feelings,” he continues, “Here is what I do. I draft a little paragraph on my phone. I go into excruciating detail about my wants and desires. Let it all out, you know. I imagine sending it to them. And then I delete it. It is almost as good as an honest conversation.”

“Right,” you’d said dismissively, fixing your attention on Secondo at the altar once again and ignoring your quickening heartbeat. What a silly idea.

And there you were just a few hours later, lying on your bed, phone aloft in front of your face, typing furiously in the text box below Secondo’s name. The content of the messages between the two of you before tonight had been consummately professional- indeed, he’d only furnished you with his number last week due to the number of errands you’d been volunteering to run for him of late. But what you were writing here was the absolute antithesis of professional. You’d paused to assess your work. Utter filth. A culmination of every idle thought, every active fantasy you’d had about the man in the months since you’d first laid eyes on him.

You wonder how he’d respond if he could see this, if he only knew. Would it take him completely by surprise? You’ve been so, so well-behaved around him. It’s been nigh impossible for you to figure out how you’d even approach the idea of flirting with Secondo, and the embarrassment of being knocked back may just destroy you. So you’ve simply not bothered to try. But Lucifer, what you’ve thought.

Satisfied, you’d pressed backspace, holding your finger down and watching your most depraved dreams disappear before your very eyes-

And then you’d dropped your phone on your face before you’d finished, hitting you square on the nose and making your eyes water. Scrambling to pick it up, you’d turned it over to see something that made your heart drop out of your arse. You hadn’t finished deleting. And you’d pressed send. Possibly with your nose, which was impressive.

Immediately, without even registering how much of your message had made it to Secondo, you’d done the only logical thing and turned your phone off in a panic. When in doubt, deny. Perfect strategy. Hey, maybe you’d even get away with it.

As you look at Secondo’s screen, it becomes apparent you haven’t gotten away with it. Until about twenty seconds ago you’d been clinging onto a vague hope that the letter of summoning that had been pushed under your door this morning was concerning…literally anything else. Alas. Your crime is staring you in the face.

More specifically, what is staring you in the face is your own words. You suppose it could have been a lot worse, really. Most of the evidence was gone, and what remained-

Papa, I need to tell you how much I want you to p

“When I gave you my number,” Secondo says, dragging your attention away from the screen and back to his stare, “it was for business, not pleasure.”

“I know, Papa. I’m sorry.”

Even if you could play it off as the start of a message that wasn’t about what you wanted Secondo to do to you, you absolutely can’t excuse the fact that you’d sent it at half past eleven at night. Absolutely inappropriate for a work-related enquiry.

Secondo barely acknowledges your apology, merely continuing to hold your gaze. You fall into an uncomfortable silence.

You reckon you could make a clean exit if you vaulted out of the window. Enthusiastic sprint, hand on the windowsill, over and out. Secondo’s office is only on the second floor, you’d probably be alright. It would be preferable to this.

After what feels like an eternity, Secondo speaks again.

“Well?”

“...Well?” you repeat slowly, somewhat at a loss.

He leans back slightly in his chair, exuding nothing but sheer, relaxed confidence.

“Well? Does that sentence have an ending?”

It does. It has a very creative ending. Is he…asking to hear it? The thought simultaneously thrills you and terrifies you. There’s not a chance you can repeat what you wrote so unashamedly last night, not to his face. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

You nod. It feels less committal. Secondo tilts his head just a fraction.

“It seemed very important. If you want something, you should be direct about it. Here, I will go first. I want you to tell me the ending to your sentence. And I want you to be honest.”

Ah, fuck. At present, you don’t think you have the capacity to lie. All you can think about is…

“It said,” you begin before you can help it, “I need to tell you how much…I want you to push me against a wall and kiss me.”

You’ve done it now. There’s a wave of adrenaline crashing over you, a mix of nerves and sheer exhilaration, and your hands are trembling. You realise you’re holding your breath. Secondo’s response causes you to exhale sharply.

“And is that a sentiment you stand by this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Close the door.”

Without thinking, you obey, turning to retrace your steps. As you approach the door you hear the scrape of Secondo’s chair on the floor; when you push on the heavy wood you count footsteps behind you. The door shuts. You turn. Secondo is right behind you, and still he barely slows his pace as he closes the last remaining distance between you. You let him back you up against the door, and in an instant his mouth is on yours. Secondo kisses you fiercely, tongue pushing into your mouth, his body pressed hard against you. You kiss him just as relentlessly, sinking back against the door, desperate to feel Secondo’s weight pinning you where you stand. Gloved hands find your hips.

Eventually, you part, breathless. Secondo’s eyes are ablaze as he looks down upon you, and it might be the delirium talking but you could swear he has the faintest suggestion of a smile playing across his lips. He leans in, giving you one gentle, final kiss. Then, he shifts, taking a step backwards and releasing his hold on you. You miss the pressure.

“I would say it is worth being direct, hm?” he says. “Next time I expect you to be more forthright.”

“Next time?” you say, still bracing yourself against the door. There’s a chance your legs might still give out. Secondo hums.

“I will permit you to contact me outside business hours,” he says. “As long as you are confident in your desires. As long as you are…explicit.”

He reaches past you to grasp the doorknob, waiting patiently for you to peel yourself off the door before easing it open. Politely, he gestures to the corridor beyond.

“You are dismissed.”

You nod shakily. The past ten minutes have been something of an adventure. As you cross the threshold of Secondo’s office, you hear his voice, soft, behind you.

“I look forward to your next message.”

So do you. As you make your way back to your room, you pull out your phone and finally turn it back on. You’ll show him just how explicit you can be.

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #secondo #secondo x reader

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