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1kook · 4 years

Text

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Hai!! Hope your having a wonderful Day! I have sent a few requests but I think tumblr just waved them off or soemthing :^

Anyway! I have a lil request. You dont gotta do it if it's too boring but hos do you think Daniel's Characters would React if They had a Demiboy Partner- like female anatomy and an extremely femenin person but uses He/They/It pronouns^^"

No one actualy uses my pronouns irl so it would be wonderful to know how some of my fav characters would react <3

-V

Hello!!!

OMG, I am really sorry I never got your requests! But here we are so let’s see!

Laszlo Kreizler

He wouldn’t mind, he would go dead ass scientific on it, maybe asking too much questions every now and then.

I can see him inquiring you about your feelings and in different situations in particular if people get confused, but to him it will take he snap of a second to apply your chosen pronoun. Being the old 1896 I am also sure he will use “Mr” too for you, he is a formal man, nobody can help this.

Baron Zemo

The man in the most open minded man you will ever meet. He won’t even ask you why or what brought you to that choice. You like it? You’ll get it.

It is always easier done than said with him, the easiness he will use over the matter will shock you maybe. And when people will be confused look at you and then at him and being confused. He would just look at them with his head tilt and being like “Did I stutter?”

Andrea Marowski

Confused ass baby. He will ask all the dumb questions on the list and frown, and purse his lips using the bow of his violin to scratch the top of his head. But after a first moment of confusion he wouldn’t actually mind it, probably making the most awkward long pauses before adding your pronoun but then he will look at you beaming from happiness because he didn’t fuck it up.

A very mad boy if somebody gets it wrong.

Niki Lauda

Niki is our ‘so what?’ man. He would look at you and being like “good for you” as he doesn’t really pay attention to that stuff. You could ask him to call you the Dinosaur King of the Rat Race and he will be using it if it makes you happy.

Definitely the one roasting people that get it wrong irritating them by snapping his fingers in front of their face to wake up their brains.

Tony Balerdi

He would accept it pretty easily.

Probably showing up at your place the next day all wrapped up in his Burberry coat with a cake made in his restaurant with He/They/It scribbled over it with chocolate.

“Want to share?”

He would be super supportive, maybe slipping at the beginning but he is the kind of guy that can always catch himself back from an error.

Alex Kerner

He is the guy. He is the guy that will give you an heart attack rushing away in the moment you’d tell him only to come back a moment later because he will write it on the back of his hand with a marker “So I can remember at the beginning” He would say happy like it is the first day of the new year. Probably the one feeling more guilty if he ever gets it wrong in public, countless sorry will be whispered in your ear.

Jan

You’d tell him probably during one of the countless nights spent at his place talking about life and politics and philosophy.

He would turn around and look at you dead serious before slowly opening up in a smile with a soft nod, his eyes telling it all.He will hand you a beer or anything you’re drinking in that moment and offer a toast “to fucking up the norms”.

He won’t get it wrong not even once.

Sebastian Zollner

He will get it wrong most of the times but you’ll end up falling for it because it will be a whole set of “fuck, shit, damn, no, I meant, fuck” and get like wavy hands and nervous ruffling his hair.

He is super supportive and will blow smoke in the face of anyone asking weird questions, but he has the brain on full speed and can’t always match what he thinks with what he says.

He loves you big time and gets all flustered that you’ll hate him, probably going to cry.

Ernst Schmidt The man lives in the future.

He will probably buy you a badge with your pronouns and pin it up on your uniform.

He would smile at you and actually find every occasion to use your chosen pronouns.

Secretly waiting for Volkov to get it wrong so he can kick his ass, but he would do it nevertheless with anybody.

#dr laszlo kreizler #andrea marowski #baron helmut zemo #alex kerner #jan weingartner #jan the edukators #sebastian zöllner #tony balerdi #niki lauda #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #ernst schmidt

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soysaucevictim · 3 years

Text

Taste The Heat

Summary: Remus has many reasons he enjoys doing exercise. It’s healthy. It’s distracting… let’s just say, there’s “self care” and then there’s self care. (Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, PWP (?), Character Study (???)

Characters: Remus-centric. Roman, Patton, Logan, and Janus mentioned.

Relationships: Background Creativitwins (familial)

Warnings: S3xual content, masturbation, AFAB anatomy, frot, exhibitionism, omo (not emphasized), BDSM (mentioned), vomit (mentioned), monsterfucking (mentioned), Remus Being Remus, Trans Masc / Nonbinary Remus

It was a realization he had a couple years into this whole fitness journey or whatever his friends would call it.

Like, he wasn’t naive about basic anatomy.

He thought he knew some tried and true tricks to get the motor running. He’s seen himself some delights in the BDSM scene and he’s yawned about the more vanilla approaches to getting the rocks off. Don’t get him STARTED on all the kudos he dropped on monsterfucker fics. (Okay, actually, he’d love that. Please do.)

Padre and Microsoft Turd would happily tell him he was just making the old ticker good and strong. Which he’d grant them that, it’s nice not being as easily winded as he used to be as a bored-out-of-his-mind couch potato.

Anyways, unlike his brother’s over-achieving ass. He didn’t really walk into his workouts with much of a plan. He just loved how it all felt, loving the stimulation – to melt his stress and restless energy.

Feeling like you’re thirsty for air. Feeling like your body is on fire. Feeling like you’re about to puke your guts out.

Oh, but that’s not the FUN part. (Shocker, I know. Get it? You know “two in the pink...” well, he’d definitely snicker at that thought.)

He was pretty sure those guys or Jannie would happily prattle on about all the benefits of exercise. They’d probably enjoy educating him on the whys and the hows. But all Remus gave a shit about was that it felt awesome.

There were many exercises he loved to experience. Some because they looked silly and were fun to exaggerate.

Like there’s one where he gets to look like a donkey, kicking backwards. Blah blah, good for the hams, blah. He totally brayed just to see the look of embarrassment from his brother.

Or one that looks like a dog taking a leak. Something about hip flexors, or something. He even squeezed his eyes shut and made an excessively long “Ssss…” noise for effect.

Garnering an exasperated, “I hereby disown you as my brother. I do not know you. Good day, sir.”

(After everything the two of them had been through, he knew Roman was never serious about that.)

Or one that looks like you’re literally humping the air! (Not going to lie, that one hits the spot sometimes too. A perk to working out – no one knows if those stray grunts and moans were from exertion or something hornier.)

But there was one type of maneuver that really got him starry eyed.

Jumping jacks.

Why did elementary and high school PE class fail him so hard (hah) that he hadn’t known of their sorcery!? One could go on a tirade about how shitty the state of sex education is and was.

He wasn’t really fond of all the flowery euphemistic shit directed at half the class about the subject. He saw “Carrie”, he knew what to expect. Well, mostly. Granted, having telekinesis as part of the puberty package would have kicked ass. Why’d he have to be in one of the boring universes where that wasn’t a thing?

Anyways, he was in the zone, during one of these workout sessions.

10. 20. 30...

He had a small amount of stiffness in the Achilles while they got all warmed up. Slowly, his calves got to a lovely burn. Being a certain glutton for punishment made that part so satisfying already. But this stage was merely the hors d'oeuvres.

40. 50...

How satisfying it was to bounce to the beat of his music, feeling like all his systems started to tick in time like a metronome. It was already approaching a state of Zen – which his constantly restless brain always appreciated.

60. 69 - pffft. Nonono. Keep going! You’ve barely gotten started!

70. Almost… the blood flow and the way the seam of his shorts rhythmically rubbed against him was starting to feel good.

80. Almost there… the endorphins and happy chemicals had to be kicking in now. The burn falling away from focus.

90. Come on… he knew it was coming. He believed his own sweat and other fluids helped in letting the hood press and slide against his now awake clit.

100. The pressure of his thighs and pelvic floor clenching for every rep and the friction of it all started to make him tingle.

110. Just a little more...

120. Stars. It was like an electric shock that sent a shiver up his spine. He wondered if he pissed himself. He wanted to stop right there and take his hand down to keep that stimulation going to a fever-pitch. But, no, not yet.

He wanted to make this last for as many sets as he could. And his calves needed to recover.

He gave himself 2 minutes tops.

After shaking himself loose, it was time for round two! (FIGHT.)

130. 140. 150…

Anticipation and arousal were already speeding up.

150. He was sweating buckets.

160. 170…

He felt himself start to quiver.

180… BAM. Another explosion. He was certain he was wet now. He wanted to crumple and go manual and moan loudly and ugly. But what eked out of his mouth was a giddy shudder.

He took a few deep breathes and rested another minute or so.

His mouth getting dry on him, he had the presence of mind to chug down some water.

Again! AGAIN!

190. 200. 210…

He was hyper-aware of the feeling of engorgement. He was about to keen again, feeling how sensitized he had become.

220. 230…

Sheer bliss stole his breath. He felt like he was practically floating. He could barely feel his arms anymore.

240. Woof. Words and thoughts started falling apart in his mind, at that point.

He had to to say it was one of the perks of having a "front hole" – multiple climaxes.

Or to put in another way, the savage lands held many adventures. If he was feeling particularly eloquent, which he wasn’t at that point.

Sometimes it was too easy to forget how many sets he managed to get through in a session – often only stopping because his shoulders and calves stopped working anymore.

Oh gods, was he going to be sore for days after this. He was going to hobble around like an old person. Moving around was going to be painful and hilarious. He already felt them start to ache – faintly wondering if he overdid it again and pulverized the hell out of them.

That didn’t stop him from releasing an exhausted cackle, “WORTH IT.”

“What?”

“Man, if working out doesn’t get you hard, I don’t know WHAT you’re doing with your life.”

“Aaand I immediately regret asking the question. Thanks.”

Remus cackled some more and sauntered, okay it was more like he limped, over to the bathroom to finish himself off. He forgot just how much water he guzzled to stay hydrated, so he needed to relieve himself anyways. To be sure, that added to the fun.

Most people would think it disgusting to do in a public bathroom, but that’s a fuck he could never give. No one else was in there anyways.

Being able to just sigh in complete contentment after it all, was enough.

This didn’t happen every day, because he was only human. Regrettably. And he was no stranger to biting off more than he could chew. (Hey, at least it was still only 1-2 with Roman for hospital visits… in recent memory. From workouts, anyways.)

He took that experience to be even more curious about where he can rediscover that piece of euphoria in as many sessions he possibly could, going forward. Besides occasionally rubbing his brother’s nose in beating his records – the only PB he gave a shit about was how many covert jollies he could squeeze out of himself.

If he ever decided to clue people in... the regulars at the gym have eventually learned it best not to ask him to elaborate on what that was about.

Especially not Steve.

#spilled musing #sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #not safe for sanders #(don't wanna softblock young-ins on this one but i will if i gotta)#(i don't write a lot of this kind of stuff so yeah)#(if no one follows my fandom blog they might be wondering where the hell this came from)#(more info on this one on ao3)#(remus just loves embarrassing his bro - as sibs are wont to do)#adventures with fitness #(sort of... grief is balls)#(but it was a lot of fun to write!)#gymrat au

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kuroororo · 4 years

Text

The Tales of KurooCat and a Broke College Student: III

~~~

Art by vgmt_sue on twitter!

Long time waiting, but its here! All characters are 18+ ❤️

Part 1 Previously

~~~

It didn’t take long for you and Kuroo to fall into some sort of routine together. If anything, you were surprised at how natural it felt in the process.

While you were at classes, Kuroo liked to explore the campus in cat form. For the past week, you’ve heard a couple rumors about the school having more feline guests, but you were pretty sure it was just Kuroo they were talking about. When you’d get out of classes, he would return to the dorm room to greet you and turn back into a human. Thankfully, he was more forgiving towards clothes now.

You guys would have dinner, maybe ramen, maybe a sandwich, and afterwards you’d finish up on some assignments while Kuroo flipped through your textbooks. He was especially fond of chemistry.

“Tell me again how you’re failing this class?” Kuroo called from the bed. He was laying on his stomach, nose deep in your Intro to Organic Chemistry book. “This stuff is interesting as hell! It’s like a guidebook to all of the worlds secrets!”

“That’s a bit of stretch, but okay.” You said as you continued to work at your desk, typing viligantly. You scanned through your notes then to your work again before slapping a palm to your forehead. “Agh!! Labs fucking suck!”

Kuroo snickered. “Then why’re you taking the class?”

“For the credit. You think I’d spend that much money on a class I freaking hate?”

You heard Kuroo get up from the bed and walk over to your desk. Before you knew it, he was leaning over your shoulder, his warm breath right next to your ear.

“You spelled docosahexaenoic acid wrong.”

“Shit, you’re right” Highlighting the awful word, you left clicked to see if there were any autocorrect options to choose from. There were not. “Damn it- Hey, how do you know how to read anyways?”

Kuroo scoffed, almost offended. “Cats like me learn how to read at a young age like any other kid. The only difference is instead of storybooks, we use street signs and old newspapers.”

“I see.” You said, finding the correct spelling in your notes. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I was just curious.”

Something akin to a purr or a hum resonated from next to your ear. You felt Kuroo nudge your cheek with his almost affectionately. “I know, kitty.”

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as they heated up in a blush. You hoped Kuroo hadn’t felt that. But the way his purring got louder and his nuzzles more affectionate, you regret to acknowledge that he did.

You felt him nose your cheek. “You should take a break, (Y/n).”

“Can’t. Labs due at 11:59. It’s 10:43 right now.”

“Maybe you should have managed your time better.” He snickered.

“All of my time this week has been managed by your needy ass.” You deadpanned. “You ask for cuddles all the time! You even turn into a cat to trick me into giving in!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You only give me cuddles when I’m in cat form.” He whined. He curled his hands in under his chin like paws and flattened his ears against his unruly heir like a mock attempt in to emulate a sad cat. “You gave me all of your attention just fine when you thought I was just a cat.”

“That’s precisely it. I thought you were just a cat.”

“Hmm, yeah. But you still seem to give me attention even after you found out I was more than that.”

Your fingers froze from their vigorous dance across the keyboard. If your cheeks weren’t red then, they sure as hell were now. And OF COURSE Kuroo noticed it too.

“Aw, my kitty likes me after all~”

“Shut your face!” You grit your teeth and fought the blush down. Slipping a hand between his face and yours, you pushed him away without sparing him a glance. “The only kitty here is you.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” You heard a poof and the sound of clothes dropping behind you. Before you knew it, a black tabby hopped up onto your desk and laid himself across your keyboard on his back. The last sentence you typed up comprised of “Thus the reaction 2wsdetghjueghhkljjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj”

“Kuroo, get off!” You nudged him. He didn’t move. “You’re ruining my report!”

“Only if you take a five minute break to cuddle.” He said. Oh, yeah. You forgot he could talk in cat form too. “You’ve been working non-stop since you got out of class, you have to be burnt out by now.”

This was true. You’ve been working none-stop on anatomy, ethics, and sociology— with your chemistry lab as the cherry on top. Maybe a short break is what you need to regain a smidge of your maximum effort to finish up your work.

“Fine. Five minutes. But you need to get off my keyboard.” Kuroo complied, an almost smug look on his cat face, as you moved your keyboard out of the way. When he laid back down, you smushed your face into his soft black fur.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by the fur. “Maybe I should kick you out after all.”

“You wouldn’t. You would have done so already if you really wanted to.”

“Yeah....But shut up.”

The soft vibrations of Kuroo’s purrs massaged your face, lulling your heavy eyelids close.

Without any warning, you left the room of your dorm into your dream-state world, leaving your unfinished lab report behind.

~~~

You woke up the next day in your bed. With Kuroo in human form wrapped around you.

Needless to say you screamed. (Albeit quieter this time so you didn’t wake Yukie up again)

“Kuroo, what the hell!” Grabbing your pillow, you smacked your cat’s handsome, sleepy face. He groaned but didn’t budge, only pulling you in tighter.

“Mm, not so loud. It’s only morning, kitty.”

“I KNOW its morning— and I had a lab due LAST NIGHT.” You growled, smacking him again. This time his ear twitched and he snatched your pillow away, tossing it wherever.

“It’s fine, I finished it for you.”

“You whaT-“

Kuroo finished your lab for you? “Mhm, even turned it in. I know more about using a computer than you think, kitty.” Even with his eyes closed, he smirked at you. His right eyelid raised a tad, a smug look on his face. “You really are bad at chemistry.”

“Wha-“

“Had to fix all your mistakes and everything. Did you even read the book?”

“Of course I did! How- How do you know more than me when it comes to these kinds of things.”

Kuroo breathed in deeply through his nose before propping himself on his elbow, an arm still around your waist. He smirked down at you.

“It’s a mystery~”

You grabbed the edge of your duvet and used it to shove his face away. “A mystery only because you won’t tell me.”

“True.” He said through he fabric of your duvet. “Besides, its not that interesting of a story anyways.”

“But I still wanna know.”

“Maybe one day. But not today.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why not today?”

Kuroo gently pulled the thick blanket from his face, grinning widely.

“Today’s finally saturday again. We could actually do stuff without your studies getting in the way.”

You blinked up at him. It was Saturday already? Man, time went by fast. It feels like it was just last week you found Kuroo in the alleyway, limping out of the trash cans. Oh wait, it was.

Sitting up in the bed, you asked him, “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Terrible. Broken. Shattered. I can’t even feel it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Really.”

“I mean, do we really want the answer to that? I thought you said I’d have to leave when I got better.”

A phantom whisper of sadness curled around your heart like a cold mist. But you quickly pushed that feeling away. “I said we’d think about what we’d do, not that you’d have to leave.”

“Hmm. Sounds like an excuse to keep me here longer.”

“Alright, get out then—“

Kuroo lunged his whole body at you, his arms locking around your waist before hurriedly rubbing his ears into your stomach.

“Nooooo. I’m just playing— I don’t want to leave yet!”

You couldn’t fight the scoff that escaped your throat, nor could you stop your face from contorting into a dorky, triumphant grin. As Kuroo continued to whine into your waist, you lifted a hand up to run your fingers through his pointed ears.

“Cat? More like brat.” You chuckled with a lopsided grin. Kuroo looked up at you, returning your smile.

“I’m only a brat because you like spoiling me.” He crooned. Your smile fell from your face.

“Just kidding. Your more like a rat instead.”

~~~

“The beach?”

You and Kuroo had run to the local convience store to grab some riceballs for breakfast. Now, you both were sitting on a park bench enjoying your meal together. Kuroo’s riceball had mackerel in it.

“Yeah, we should totally go to the beach today! It’s not too hot out, so we won’t be sweating like hell— Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You gave your companion a wary grin.

“It sure sounds like fun...But, I don’t have a swimsuit.”

His head snapped towards you, gold eyes wide. “You don’t?”

“Nope.” You said, popping the p at the end. “Never needed one, really.”

“Wait, so does that mean you’ve never gone to the beach?”

“What— No, silly. I’ve just outgrown my old ones and never had a reason to get something new. Seems like a waste, when you have no one to go with.”

Kuroo looked up in thought.

“...I mean, you could always go commando—“

“KUROO!” He yelped when you swatted at his arm.

“What? Or we could go swimsuit shopping right now? I wouldn’t mind you modeling for me.”

“Alright, going to the beach is definitely off the list now.”

You could feel Kuroo pouting at you but you just forced yourself to ignore it. Instead, you looked through your phone for ideas on what you guys could do today.

Glancing up at him, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of utter disappointment on his face.

“Maybe next time. Did you forget I’d have to get a swimsuit for you too.”

“I could always just swim in cat form.”

“Yeah, but everyone will think I’m crazy if they see me talking to a cat.”

“It’ll just make things more interesting, don’t you think?”

Maybe. Or maybe everyone will just ignore you, brushing you off for a beach coocoo and leave you alone. You haven’t been to the beach enough to really know.

“Say, Kuroo.” You started. Said cat looked back at you whilst taking a bite from his riceball. “Do you go to the beach a lot?”

Kuroo gulped down his meal. “No. But I still like to go when I can.”

“What was your first time at the beach like?” Were you a cat? Were you human? Who did you go with? All questions you wanted to ask, but you didn’t want to bombard him like the paparazzi.

He thought about it for a minute.

“I think I was with my dad? Or maybe it was with Nekomata. Either way, I remember being in cat form, chasing seagulls away.”

Nekomata? Before you could even ask, Kuroo continued.

“Yeah, I remember digging myself a little sand tunnel and hiding in there so I didn’t have to leave. Needless to say, they found me and shoved me under the beach shower since I had sand in my fur.”

You couldn’t help but imagine Kuroo as a small little kit, meowing in protest as he was held by the scruff and being scrubbed of debris. The thought made you giggle, making Kuroo glance down at you.

“Hmm? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. Just imagining you as a smol lil’ itty-bitty-kitty.” You snickered. “If you’re this much of a brat now, you had to be a monster when you were a kid.”

“Really? Actually, I was pretty quiet as a kit. Apparently I didn’t start talking til I got older.”

Kuroo? Not talking? You didn’t believe it.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You sure you’re not pulling my leg?”

“I swear!” Kuroo put his hands up in defense. “I couldn’t talk at all! I was too shy back then. I didn’t start talking until....”

Maybe that partly made sense. Being someone like Kuroo wasn’t easy, especially as a child. You could only imagine what would have made him so quiet and scared back then.

Kuroo jolted in his seat, startling you. “Hey, I know what we could do today.”

Taking another chomp of your riceball, finishing it completely, you nodded for him to continue.

When he turned to you, his golden eyes were lit with a fire you’ve never see before, passionate flames that could almost rival the sun. And then he smiled.

“Why don’t we play volleyball?”

~~~

“Just what do you think he’s doing?!”

“Who knows. Who cares.”

“Whaaaa? I thought you’d be way more concerned than this considering he’s your best friend!”

“Miss Kiyoko already said he was fine. Sure, he didn’t come to practice, but clearly he’s okay now. No need to worry about it anymore.“

“I know, but— Aren’t you even a little curious about the girl he’s been playing hooky with?”

“Bokuto-san, maybe we should just leave him alone for now—“

“And she’s cute too! Man, this is so unfair!”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

The horned owl swooped down into the bushes, a large puff of smoke detonating upon impact. As the smoke cleared and parted, broad wings unveiled a very naked man with golden eyes and grey hair in a shape that looked like an owl.

“I’m just gonna have to introduce myself, of course!”

Another owl, one that had yet to transform, sighed. Beside him on the branch was a small tabby with a little pudding head.

“Bokuto...Transform back. Let’s get some clothes first or we might get arrested.”

~~~~

Trash. Didn’t proofread. My original chapter got deleted sksksk—

On another note, please continue to comment! It really helps a lot with motivation and confidence. Thanks a bunch to those who did comment ❤️❤️❤️❤️

~~~

TAGS: @irenevyas @abby-rutledge20 @something-that-idk @svtbitch @ari-hatake15

Couldn’t tag in bold!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kuroo x reader #hq x reader #hq x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader

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nightspeckle · 4 years

Text

High School Au {Part 4}

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

I started this weeks ago but I kinda lost my motivation to write, so sorry it took such a long time! I hope that you enjoy this monstrosity that I have created hehe

******

I watch from the garage door as Cardan backs up and pulls out of the driveway. Oak has retreated back into the house to watch tv. Unfortunately the leach that followed him outside is still behind me.

I wait until Cardan’s car is nothing but a speck in the distance before I turn to face her.

The face looking back at me is identical to mine. That is except for the dubious and accusatory eyebrow raise that is being directed at me.

“What?”

“What! Jude really?” Taryns eyes shine in the afternoon sunlight as she crosses her arms turning herself from human to statue. I shrug closing the door and heading into the kitchen.

“If you are talking about my display by the car lets both keep in mind I have seen you do much worse. I mean muchhhhhh worse.”

“You promised not to speak about that!” Taryns voice climbs as she pushes herself up onto the counter. I shrug again while maneuvering around to search for my barbeque chips.

“But really, Jude?”

I stand from the pot cabinet I had been rifling through to look Taryn in the eyes.

“I truly am not comprehending what you are trying to say here, Taryn”.

She looks at me with a sad smile playing over her face as she shakes her head.

“Cardan Greenbriar? I just-” Taryn takes a moment for the breathy sigh that escapes her “It’s Cardan Greenbriar.”

“I have acknowledged that,” I mutter.

Well maybe not truly, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m just a little confused, and a tad bit concerned.” Taryns eyes are puppy dog wide.

“I really don’t see how you’re in a place to judge.” My voice is firm as I cut her a glance. I mean really, who the hell is she to judge?

“I was just wondering.” Her voice now is as identically firm as mine.

“Great! Well please go wonder somewhere else.” I look up at Taryn to see her roll her eyes while I continue on to the next cabinet.

“Oriana put them over here,”

Taryn hops off the counter and reaches into the spice cabinet before pulling out a glorious bag of barbeque chips.

“Sneaky bitch.”

“She’s just trying to help your addiction,”

“Or she’s saving them for herself.”

“Whatever you say Jude,” Taryn says before sauntering out of the room pony tail swishing behind her. “Whatever you say,”.

....

After polishing off my chips I decide to compile a list of reasons why I want to kill Taryn. It goes a little something like this:

She interrupted my steamy ass kiss

She attacked me before I had time to think about how I fell about said kiss

She made me feel shitty for having said kiss

& most importantly she RAIDED my chocolate stash

I am also compiling a list of reasons to grovel at her feet:

She interrupted my encounter with the devil incarnate

She reminded me that Greenbriars so shitty even backstabbing Taryn is concerned

She felt bad about the chocolate and replaced it

Usually the list making makes me feel better. However, I still feel like my head is spinning around and around and around.

I keep going back to what happened.

He kissed me.

I kissed him back and I liked it.

I liked it.

Shit.

As much as I can’t stop thinking about the kiss my brain has also adhered to what he said to me. Cardan Greenbriar thinks I’m hot. Cardan Greenbriar likes me. Cardan Greenbriar despise’s me.

Unbelievable. My life is a complete and utter joke.

I can’t help but sigh and fall back onto my bed in utter disbelief that this has become an aspect of my existence.

I decide for my sanity that this is too much for a Monday and decide to postpone until tomorrow.

The next thing I decide is that homework is also an unessential aspect of a Monday and crash into a delightful sleep.

....

“I mean honestly what did she expect from me?”

“You really didn’t have to say that,”

“She ratted me out in chem,”

“You exploded the lab on purpose!”

“Minor details,”

“Jude can you please reinforce to Liliver how crazy she sounds,”

“Jude?”

“Jude!”

My eyes snap to Fand’s face mere inches from mine. I had been scanning the cafeteria looking for a familiar form. To my dismay the cafeteria is absent of a lanky boy in head to toe black.

“What are you talking about?” I ask as Fand rolls her eyes.

“What Liliver said to Nicasia,” Fand supplies before texting someone back on her phone.

“I wrecked her,” Liliver says with a shrug.

“If by wrecked you mean was blatantly rude to someone I am family friends with then yes that is true,” Fand corrects leveling a glare at Lil.

I look too Liliver who has a smirk spread across herself and can’t help but high five her. Nicasia is an arrogant bitch. To not congratulate Liliver on this would be an absolute travesty.

Fand rolls her eyes again questioning why she’s friends with us. Something I also question on a daily basis.

“Are you going to tell us why you were hawk eyeing the cafeteria?” Lil asks glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the rest of the student body.

“Van and Garrett went off campus for lunch,” Fand states with an amused glint in her eyes.

“That was not who I was looking for,”.

“Then who were you looking for?” Liliver asks fully intrigued now.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say firmly before taking a sip of the iced coffee I had been nursing all morning.

“I personally adore a defensive Jude,” Fand says cheerily to Lil.

“I hate that you just said that,” I mumble as the bell rings.

I sling my backpack on my shoulder and take off with my coffee in hand leaving behind the shared look of confusion coming from Liliver and Fand.

I don’t waste anytime getting to anatomy. Anatomy is the one class Cardan and I share together. I hadn’t seen him in the halls at all this morning and by lunch time I was antsy.

When I had woken up this morning it had finally sunk in. I had kissed Cardan Greenbriar, my childhood tormentor. The worst part is that I wanted to do it again. Like really wanted to do it again.

However, just because I wanted to spend hours in a dark room with him didn’t mean I wasn’t annoyed. I mean who the hell just kisses someone they have hated for years out of the blue.

I was especially annoyed with his declarations. The fact that he liked me was the craziest thing I had ever heard and yet I was accepting it.

But being told you are despised before being kissed just didn’t set well with me. He had no right to despise me. Me of all people! Out of the two of us I am the only one with the right to despise. What a little bitch.

I mean truly who the hell does he think he is?

But that didn’t do anything to deter me from craving to see him again.

So now sitting in my anatomy class I couldn’t help but wait to talk to him. Of course I wanted to give him my peace of mind but mainly because I couldn’t help of think of what he would look like in the absence of his ever present black clothing.

Van slides into the seat next to me mumbling something about how torturous this class is while I keep my eyes pinned on the door.

When Cardan finally comes in I feel my thoughts freeze. His black shirt is tight and daunting. His backpack is thrown over one shoulder and his walk is lazy and smooth.

I’m cursing myself for wanting his attention. But I mean when he looks like that, who wouldn’t?

I can’t help but twist my hair around my finger. A nervous tic. One that Van knows well, and he cuts me a knowing look.

But Cardan doesn’t look at me he passes by with out a glance and drops down into the seat behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see the dead look he posses so well.

“What?” It’s cold.

“Uh-” I freeze, everything I had been planning to say completely lost. What an idiot I am.

Cardan’s face is blank as my thoughts try to reform. I hadn’t expected him to be so harsh.

Of course with my luck Nicasia would have to show up now.

“Drooling Jude?” She says as she slides into the empty seat at Cardan’s lab table. “I didn't realize you actually liked other human beings, I pegged you as a pig type of girl, you know?”

“I was not talking to you,” I say with a roll of my eyes. She truly is a complete and utter bitch.

“Doesn’t seem like you were talking to anyone,” She says with a smirk.

Unfortunately she does have a point. Van is cutting me an amused look and Cardan’s face is empty of life.

I look at Cardan only for our gazes to lock. He quirks his head a bit and his eyes flicker with a bit of a shine.

But he says nothing and I turn around trying to save myself from making this anymore embarrassing for me.

I look over to Van who is smirking “You know now that she says it I could see you living happily ever after with a pig.”

“Oh shut up, you roach!” I can’t help but punch him in the arm as we laugh. Class starts a few minutes later saving me from the never ending discussion of gambling Van has started up on again.

....

When the bell rings I can’t help but race out of class. My next class is a study and I have to pick up some flyers for the Sadie Hawkins dance the school is throwing. Being the vice president is never ending.

Plus my plan to talk to Cardan went absolutely no where so I might as well move past the delusion that was yesterday.

Now that I think about I wouldn’t be surprised if he was on some phsycadelic drug that randomly makes people go around confessing false feelings.

That would make a lot more sense and it would relive me of having to try to figure out how we even got there.

But as I’m weaving through the hallways a hand yanks me back.

The next thing I know I’m in an empty stairwell. I turn to look at my assailant ready to swing a very effective jab to the throat.

That is until I see it’s cardan. He has a smirk on his face as he tilts his head towards the stairs. I don’t protest as he grabs my hand and pulls me down the stairs until we are partially hidden.

“Hi,” His voice is soft.

“Hi,” I repeat quietly.

“I...sorry about,” He gestures his head up the stairs in the direction of anatomy. “My friends...”

“I get it, they’re complete assholes!” I cant help but grin as he laughs.

I just made Cardan Greenbriar laugh. 24 hours really can make a difference. Who knew Cardan had such a nice laugh.

“Do you think Taryn will tell Locke?” He looks sheepish.

“I can ask her not too,” I whisper. Saying anything louder feels wrong here.

“That might be best for now,” His hand is still holding mine and I can’t help but look down.

It feels nice. Good even.

I understand what he is saying about his friends. If my friends heard I kissed Cardan I would never hear the end of it. I mean never.

I feel kind of giddy when I look up to his face and nod.

“We never got to talk,” I say leaning back into the wall.

“You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk,” Cardan says with a smirk.

“Oh shut up,” I say. “I mean about how you told me you despise me,”

He shrugs “Well I do.” I consider following through with that throat punch until I see his smirk.

“I don’t think you’re aloud to despise me,” I say.

“And why is that?” He asks with a teasing tone.

“Well because between the two of us you are always the mean one to me. Plus it doesn’t really make sense that you can despise someone that you like.”

“You are extremely annoying, rude, and a complete and utter brat,” Cardan says with a bored tone. “Seems like a good reason to despise you.”

I can’t help but sigh. Of course the one guy to ever tells me he likes me thinks I’m an annoying brat. I’m about to comment on how he has my beat in the terrible traits by a long shot when another thought crosses me mind.

“So you don’t like me?” I can’t help but mumble.

He laughs “I do like you Jude. It’s like how you think I’m cold, arrogant, and a dick and you like me anyways,”

I can’t help but stutter. “I- I do not,”

I mean do I?

Cardan’s face is open and I can’t deny the fact that he’s been pretty much all I’ve thought about all day.

“Lie,” He says with a playful shoulder nudge. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Maybe,”

I gulp as he takes a step closer to me.

Cardan tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear as our breaths mingle.

He smells fresh, like the way the world smells on a spring day.

I don’t stop him as he brings his head down to mine. Cardan’s lips are soft and warm. The move is tentative, slow. He’s asking a question and I answer with the press of my lips to his.

The kiss is gentle, warm. It’s full of soft touches down my back. It’s occupied of the feel of Cardan’s smooth hair dancing in my fingers. It’s slow and sweet. My heart feels like it’s dancing, bouncing in happiness.

I think I could stay here for hours in the feeling that is his gentle lips. In the way his warm hands feel on me. In the way he feels like sunshine in a cold winter.

When Cardan pulls back I can’t help but smile. One of his hands is still resting on my face and his fingers move to trace the smile that has crept onto my face.

When he steps back he does it with an amused look.

“I’ll see you later, Jude,” His voice is warm and kind and then he’s bounding up the stairs.

I can’t help but lean back resting my head on the wall.

I am in some serious shit here.

My heart still feels giddy and there is no denying it now. Cardan Greenbriar really does like me. Me of all people, and that alone makes me feel ecstatic.

What am I doing?

I can’t believe that I spent all day wanting to talk to Cardan. I used to spend my days avoiding him and his cronies and now I’m standing in an empty staircase memorizing the feeling of his body nest to mine.

I stand there for a minute trying to compose my thoughts. To figure out what this means for me. If maybe he was right when he said I was lying.

That is until I look at my watch to see I’ve been in here for 7 minutes. I am so late to pic up the posters. I was supposed to meet Sophie our president 3 minutes ago. She’s totally going to rip me a new one.

But I can’t help but smile as I make my way out of the staircase.

Cardan kissed me, and that is totally worth a Sophie scream.

~~~

Tags <3 :

@deargreenbriar @dontfwithlibrarians @judexcardanxgreenbriar @sensitivehighlord @afexiss @mi-mavencalories @pilesofriles

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curious-minx · 3 years

Text

Heat Lamp vol. [i]

A how-to guide on harnessing the very best light for your under-lit overly priced hovel! In Style!

“Lighting is everything, you goon!” spits Magda Marlene, and, of course, she’s absolutely correct.

“Don’t call me a goon, Magda! I’m trying my best. Have you ever tried shopping around for the best possible lights? Of course not. The challenge of conceiving of wattage and luminosity in the abstract blue light tech etching our basic human retinas will never compete with the likes of you. “ Elroy wipes away the trail of verbiage slipping down his prominent jawline. He attempts to grab at Magda to make her take him seriously, but it was impossible, because after all she is enshrouded in light. She is the kind of bruising overwhelming beauty that is perpetually well lit. Magda has endured a panorama of over stuffed suits of testosterone tossing off a clip of one-liners about her “lighting up a room,” because she had already brightened her entire surrounding vicinity. Light seeping out as far as several stories above and below whatever apartment is lucky enough to grace her presence. You had to alert your local neighboring Vampire’s of someone like Magda coming around. To forget would be akin to a hate crime.

“I do take pity on you sallow beef man. You are close, so close I can nearly taste your success, but this lack of suitable lighting! This will be your ruin. That’s what all the Entertainment and Arts are all about-,”

“Yes, the lighting! The wonderful bright, but not too bright lighting. I know Magda. Ugh! I much prefer if we go back to when you would stick to sending me laymen articles on the anatomy of human eyeballs and the latest breakthroughs in light-based therapy, but now all I hear is your dogmatic barking.”

“You sure do talk a lot for a layman. Why did you want to touch me? Don’t tell me you’re starved for human contact!”

“Of course not! Don’t be foolish! You know I’m not attracted to you. It’s the only reason why you even bother gracing me with your infernal light. Why won’t you sell some of your light source already?”

“Oh no no no, not this this again. I will have no further discussion about the selling off of my light.”

“You won’t share your light, you won’t sell your light, but all I ever hear you go on and on about is the importance of light! Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish?” Elroy tries sizing Magda up and all around with his big soulful hazel brown dopey puppy dog eyes.

“What is this, ‘on and on’ slander? That’s a complete and total falsity! I barely even talk to you! You asked me to come over and help you pick out a new light. Yet here you stand insulting me and everything I represent. I knew all men were trash! I really wanted a reciprocal easy going friendship receptacle. Like the ones you see on flashy American sitcoms, but no! Instead you reek of man boy desperation. You are not Easy Elroy, nor are you sleazy enough to warrant a pass. Good day!” And with that Magda leaves Elroy in his room. A room that is painted a banana baby sick off-scrambled eggs shade of yellow that made Elroy think of himself as a “warmed over Simpson” whenever he looks at himself with his overhead lights on. Magda leaves him behind so that she can go attend a life devoid of preening men devoid of any elevated levels of cognitive stimulus. Magda had a strong feeling deep inside that being eaten out by Elroy would feel either like the confectionary sugar clinging to a beater or a cow pondering the universe with a cud. Magda has bigger prospects to attend such as the purchasing of a new Ultrasonic Television, a television for people too interesting to own a regular television. Now this is a process more grueling than picking out some sort of pathetic LED lights set out to emphasize poor life choices.

Magda’s candles burn ferociously for the scented perfume wick of her occasional beaux Hillary. Oh sweet sister Hillary. Magda flips a dizzy spell as she gets behind the wheel of her space craft. In the driver’s seat she grabs and teases pinching caresses onto her sides, hands running underneath her shirt and imagines Hillary’s hazy visage. Magda turns on The Quick’s Mondo Deco, the album is lodged into the fourth track already, “Hillary.” The porto-phrenetic ASMR zipper crunch! The perfect symmetry of a song making sense for the right woman in the right space and time. Magda wishes she could be some special somebody’s Kim Fowley. She knew she has the making of a Valkyrie companion. Mostly a bottom, but occasionally there’s a switch…a candy striped hypnosis stick being cradled in Magda’s hand turns her space craft into autopilot. The space craft assumes a sensible soaring speed, sharing the sky with all the other avians and sky ships. Magda lands onto the fetid grassless knoll where she finds the manor of Scent Maven Monique. A west coast equivalent of a Hobbit Hole in the Hills. Except instead of a 5,7” English gentleman it is a 5,7” Black American bohemian scientist woman. Magda lights up one of Monique’s Pixie Stix a jolt of nicotine, THC, estrogen, nootropicals, and most importantly caffeine. Cigarettes that don’t make you smell like cigarettes, that don’t make you smell like anything, but a hint, a wink, a whisper, and a prayer of exotic bubblegum.

A Vaping Assassin is prowling on her rooftop. Antonia, The Daycrawler, of course. A woman so intimidating in strength and beauty that all law officers around the country worship at her talon toes. Lines of swat teams, cops, and military official personally see fit the they get their asses beaten by Antonia’s hand each and every year at The National Cop Christmas Party. Monique is constantly alienating, offending and inspiring everyone she works with, but they usually only send soft assassins like Soy Hands Flannigan or the Detangler. Magda believes that this must be the opening salvo of a new killer regime.

“Quit your daydreaming Magda Marlene! Are you really about to let me red rover your special number one gal? I am dropping through the ceiling now! Catch ya later!” Antonia is always narrating her actions to her blind brother Donovan who makes glass sculptures for an assassin’s memento. Some assassins keep locks of hair, some assassins keep emails, some assassins bond and indulge their impotent’s brother pop art. The giant blocky neon green rotary telephone with each notch designed with a mysterious suggestion of a dreary person. A lot of guilt trips about being sent to mental institutions and the occasional rainbow clamshell birth control pill case. All glass blown by the Daycrawler’s blind and naive brother. Monique doesn’t stand a chance!

“Oh no,” mouths Magda. She’s going to be vaporized by that tall Nordic pillar of mayhem. Quentin Tarantino might as well be hanging himself up here on Monique’s roof turning himself into the human satellite, beaming this impeding cyclone of beautiful woman on beautiful woman violence for all of his cronies to see. “Not today,” mouths Magda. With a flick of her wrist, bracelets of light begin forming and overlapping. Discs of light coursing up and down Magda’s forearm. Magda then hides her arms underneath her long and flowing cherry blossom trench coat. Magda’s light does not instantly light up the rest of Monique’s abode. Antonia is hiding her frustration and she looks around Monique’s mostly spacious and poorly lit living quarters. Seeing only a completely stainless steel coated mini-kitchen and a chest level table top. No chairs. No other furniture or trace of personality. Magda hopes that this cat and mouse game will grow less cheesy and the Daycrawler will soon leave irate and hungry.

“Aha! You got me good Light Bright. Of course you knew she wasn’t here and distracted me. For such good work I will personally see to killing you myself. I haven’t murdered anyone in over twelve hours. Do you know how rusty an assassin can get in that time? First, I must take a shower. Surely this lab rat has some sort of hose or bucket and pulley system to wash herself?”Antonia begins sizing up the space, trying to squint a bathroom into existence.

“I believe her bathroom is right next the front door. You must have accidentally passed in when you were getting yourself worked up into this bloodlust.” Magda suddenly feels completely at ease. Yes, she could easily blind and frankly obliterate this toned and blonde killing machine. Doesn’t matter though, because Magda realizes that she has this whole ordeal in her pocket and it’s only a matter of Antonia getting into that shower. Magda goes to raise her fist in conquest but then meets resistance. Antonia’s silent rope snakes! They are giving Magda the world’s most cold blooded group hug. Magda knows she must submit to the plan. She grimaces feeling the ridges of her teeth and wait to unleash her light show.

////

Antonia has been in the shower for over and hour and half. Magda is only now starting to bruise because the rope snakes have grown lethargic and weak ever since the water started. The rope snakes are clinging on to Magda out of obligation and lethargy. The water stops and a shrill elongated sigh is heard from the bathroom. Antonia, the Daycrawler, emerges from heavy plump clouds of perfumed steam. Magda thinks she can detect a hint of Ceylon Cinnamon and gun smoke, but you can never tell with Monique and her smells. Antonia is a lot drier than you would expect for someone who has ostensibly been bathing for the past two hours and she is wearing an oversized clumsy kimono with her hair wrapped up in a towel.

“Alright, where is she?” Antonia asks in a voice that is almost saccharine and faint.

“She’s clearly not here. Let’s revisit the fact that you were going to behead me as a house warming gift. How about instead you rob me of one of my kidneys? They are oozing with glow-stick fluid, but they never stop glowing! Please don’t kill me!” Magda says fully aware that Antonia is not going to kill, at least not while she’s so fresh out of the shower.

“That’s what I need to talk to her about. I suddenly no longer have my urge to kill! Not you, you, or anyone else ever again!”says Antonia breathless like she is hearing her voice for the first time.

“I thought you were killing out of profession?”

Antonia crouches down and is almost blushing as she asks, “Why are you still on the floor like that? Can’t you not fry us up some rope snake snacks? Or wait! Are you like me and need the sunlight to fully operate?” Antonia begins opening up every window and even trying to create new windows in Monique’s house to let the light in.

“Fine! I’ll do it! You made me do it!” Magda unleashes her light that sets off as a retina unfriendly supernova. The light charged specifically around her arms were even still lit up and racing to be shot off as blades of light into the nearest surface.

“See? That’s wasn’t so bad! Why do you get so…so conservative about using your light whenever you’re around me?”

“I don’t want to end up blinding or hurting anyone.” Magda says still on the ground facing onto Monique’s steel plated sterile floors.

“Even someone who was moments ago trying to kill your friend and you for the thrill of murder?”

“Your an easy target Daycrawler,” Magda gathers herself back up into a standing stance,” You are exactly the type that would change your mind if given half a chance. I still feel like you could plunge your famous ribbon blade into my personal generator… ” Magda trails off realizing that Antonia is no longer listening to her. She is still running her reformed(?) killer’s hands through her honey flaxen unwieldy tower of hair that only a towering murderess could support.

“That shampoo it’s, it’s going to help a lot of people. I’m waiting to see the catch. Like with her cancer-free candy cigarettes they’re too good to be true, right?”Antonia takes in another long inhalation of her own hair and takes one lock and flecks her tongue only at the tip of the follicle. The one blank wall inside Monique’s apartment spins around revealing Monique on the other side who steps up and says without missing a beat:

“They’re called Pixie Stix!” Monique fully emerges from her illusion wall hiding the hint of a laboratory. She lights up a Pixie stick of her own which begins flooding the spartan space. Who needs furniture when you bask in a smell this sweet? Magda lets her guard down and lights up the rest of the space turning the formerly drab and empty hovel into a chic and spacious boutique. “Lighting!” Continues Monique, “With the right lights and an overwhelming pungent odor reveals the path to an enveloping inner peace. No matter how small or unfashionable your home or hovel happens to be there could possibly be an outlet for a chosen few people that the three of us could use to build our own society or something?” Monique turns on music by malodorous mall core cyborg nu metal pop band called Neon Betty Degenerates. Antonia goes over to Monique and gently forces Monique’s bangled and gloved clammy hand into a boisterous hand shake. A Kashmir blossom shaped pin attached to Monique’s vegan leather newsboy cap opens up and contracts. The blossom is spraying out a mist invisible to the human eyes, directed into Antonia’s face. Antonia then immediately releases Monique and she turns away from the gangly scientist, she unravels the towel from her hair and starts sprinting outside of Monique’s house. Antonia begins climbing up the lone ancient hundreds of feet tall redwood tree watching over Monique’s property. Antonia climbs up to the tree in record time, she is nothing but a blur of momentum and rustling branches. Antonia, the Daycrawler, jumps out into the sky with the grace of a flying squirrel leaving her nest, and she’s reached enough height so that she can use the heel of her shoe to write, “I’m sorry! <3 I will work on respecting your personal space” in a cloud-based font.

Magda turns to Monique who has completely flipped open her furtive laboratory, revealing the glow of scent analysis technology calling out to Magda begging her to crank up the wattage. Before submerging back into her lab, Monique turns to Magda and tells her, “Antonia is seemingly the only person my Perfumed Personality is working on. Do you think that will be enough?” Monique directs this question more to the ether than to anyone in particular.

“Looks like it’s really working on her though. Oh right, before you leave. I am going through this really tough crush on someone and was hoping that you’d have some-“ Magda stops talking. Monique enters her lab leaving Magda behind in the empty kitchen and the lingering vapors of the ethical strawberry and lavender pacifist shampoo. Magda knows that she probably won’t see Monique emerge back out from her work for another two weeks at the latest. Magda shivers and steps outside and all of her pent up light energy continues bursting forth from her navel, banners of light shooting from her forehead, spotlights dancing out of each of her fingertips. Magda’s light even causes the clouds that Antonia used as calligraphy to break into a sweat. The extreme daylight and the small patch of rain causes a family of foxes to burst forth from out of the ground and carry on a quick and sweet wedding. Magda climbs on top of a dune and watches the wedding ceremony from afar. She remembers Hillary and groans, a sticky and somber sound. Magda has her revery broken by the sound of a voice calling from below the dune.

“cOuld yOu pleeze take Our picha, lamp lady? Da lurvely cOupa wOuld be sO grateful!!” The source of the voice is coming from an approaching silver fox who has a slight wobble in his gait. Magda looks at the silver fox further and notices that he also has two plastic and springy legs. Magda not wanting to seem judgmental, sighs and takes the fox’s hefty Kodiak bridge cam and without even taking time to focus the lens takes the picture. The newly wedded couple and the silver fox open up the camera’s finder and look at the results and start panting in approval. They have never seen themselves look so well lit before.

“Daddy! You must pay this kind lady Beacon mucho ancient coins! I’ve never looked this good!” Magda smiles and shakes her head and puts her hands into her pockets, leaving the foxes behind. She readjusts her trench coat and puts on a large wide-brimmed blackout hat she keeps in a box shaped fanny pack. Even while wearing her light suppression accessories each and every passing streetlamp emits a powerful sphere of light that dims with each of Magda’s passing step. Most of the houses in Magda’s neighborhood are heavily tranquilized and sleeping in deprivation tanks so the dramatic light fluctuations don’t bother most. One overhead apartment pulls back its drapes and an angry shirtless and chiseled man has taken out a mirror and trying to reflect the light back down at the street. The power of the light’s heat creates another pothole into the road, which causes the man to start swearing and yelling incoherently. Magda kneels down onto the empty sidewalk and rubs her palms together causing the street lights to dim back down to their normal level. Magda’s face looks pale and she begins moving at a slower pace.

“Damn…I’m so close. Being mindful of so many people really sucks. I think I’m going to lie down in this pile of moss and maybe I’ll wake up back in my bed.” Magda hums a lullaby to herself and begins folding herself into a ball of fading light. Magda is blacking out.

///

She opens up her eyes as soon as she registers motion. Magda is being carried in somebody’s arms! Magda almost cranks up her internal light furnace but then she smells the tangy coconut cologne of Elroy.

“What did I tell you about picking up tramps?” Asks Magda with a yawn. “Put me down you goon!” Elroy immediately does so and gives Magda her space.

“Of course, I’m sorry Magda. I was out scouting shoot locations for a new headshot this week and saw your abandoned space craft on the side of road. Knowing you as well as I do I had a feeling that you were probably enjoying one of your unnecessary sojourns. Thankfully you left it in one of the bougiest possible neighborhoods so I think you’ll be fine with picking it up tomorrow. I’ll leave you be. Clearly you are wanting some time alone.” Elroy brushes off a twig out of Magda’s hair and starts walking back into his own shabbier Electric Hover Desert Rabbit.

“Any luck with your lamp search?”asks Magda causing Elroy to stop in his tracks and turn around revealing an excitable grin.

“I found this Ponce de Leon Torchier that promises to age and de-age me based on what kind of bulb I put into it. There’s this audition for a movie about a man breastfeeding his own child I got. The role comprises of both the child and the father, it’s a student film but the kid directing is supposed to have a real stash of connections.” Chatters Elroy, clearly trying to regain a sense of joviality between him and Magda.

“I have actually never really bothered playing with light in that way before. How are you so good at online shopping? And here I was about to actually consider giving you a droplet of my very own light” sneers Magda as she enters through the lamp shaded gate of her parent’s compound.

“What?! Really! Wait Magda I’ll gladly take some of your light off of your hands! Come on, come back!” Magda leaves Elroy behind once again and a roving street sweeper pushes him up the current of streaming sidewalk leading deeper into the Energy District. He calls out to Magda yelling her name as he’s being street swept away. Magda turns copper green with regret with even toying around with the idea of sharing any amount of light. Especially with a total goon like Elroy! The family leopard spotted moth, Sapphire, comes whooshing up to Magda giving her a silky kiss. Magda grins and brushes the silk away from her face and picks up a floating torch, lights it with her finger and tosses it as far as she can throw, which due to the pent up hormonal surging emotional cycle Hillary has gotten Mega into, turns out to be quite far. Sapphire flap flap flaps her wings into a column of speed and chases after the floating torch. The outside ladder leading to her room has been rolled up.

“Because of course!” Sighs Magda as she slips off her cycling light up shoes, the tongue of her shoes light up with a balloon showcasing the amount of miles Magda has walked from Monique’s house, nearly fourteen, if only Elroy hadn’t gotten in the way. Inside both of her parents are stationary as always. Wires running from the back of both of their heads so that when they glance over at the door in unison you can see the pulses of light traveling at the same speed from both of their skulls. Magda parents disgust her and she really tries getting up stairs into her room as fast as possible.

“Magpie! Get your cute little grown ass over here and tell me about this nice young man you’re considering giving up your light to!”

“Journey,” Magda says addressing her mom by her proper name which causes her mom to feign a twinge,”Why must you two always insist on watching the security feed whenever I am coming home. Every. Single. Time. Do you two expect me to be still be living here until either one of you finally burn out? Just so you can always have a little show of someone else’s lives to watch? You’re almost as much as a goon as that ‘boy’ you are referring to. You know him already, that’s Elroy, we’re just friends.”

“See Enterprise? What did I say?” Journey says peering directly into her husband Enterprise’s vacant light producing sockets.

“Aw dawlin looks like I owe you thirty pulses! I knew I should have betted on our Magpie giving her light away to some respectable enterprising lesbian. You’re donating your light to science right Magpie? That’s why you left today?”

“I am not donating my light to anyone! I am not anyone’s generator ready to be milked and sapped away for all of my worth.”

“Magda you know your light is strong enough that you could be a really successful crime fighter, or you could even be just another lamp builder like your lil brother and sister.” Coos Magda’s father, Enterprise.

“Or, she can be nothing too! Fine by me! Keep on going missy, I can see how much you are burning to get back into your precious room. All I ask is that at some point tonight please help your siblings make some kind of dinner. Your dad and I are going to be all tied up for the rest of the night running double concurrent shifts. Those damn strikers! We don’t need em! Ow ow ugh I’ve got to be quiet and focus.” Journey rubs her temple which emits a spark.

“Relax my love. This is just a rough patch. Once there is a serum manufactured we’ll be able to import more workers and we can recharge for the next decade. Maybe even more.” Enterprise says this to Journey and they hold each other’s hands not even minding that they are becoming entangled within one another’s connecting wires. Magda hears the quiet scrape scraping of her younger brother and sister’s lamp and neon shop that takes up most of the second floor. Magda ascends up one more floor and reaches her bedroom at the end of a hallway adorned with family portraits. Mainly of her siblings Gidget and Chester selling lamps around the world. See Gidget and Chester in Bali with a lamp made from resurrected coral reefs. There’s a picture of Gidget, Chester and both of her parents soft shoeing on the grave of Thomas Edison. See Gidget defile the Tesla’s tomb. Chester burning an effigy of Musk. There’s one picture of Magda and Sapphire, Magda is only visible as a beam of light. Magda opens up her bedroom and finds Antonia, the Daycrawler waiting for her, suspending herself from the ceiling. Rotating around like a monk’s slimy finger circling around the lip of a singing wine bowl.

“Hiya there Miss Shiney! I brought you a present!” Antonia says this in her persistently chippier and bubblier voice that has not subsided since taking her shower with Monique’s personality shifting scented shampoo. Monique raises her right eyelid causing one of her dimmest overhead lights to come on. The light reveals reveals the sight of a tied up woman sporting a bouncy pompadour sprawling out across Magda’s bed. Soy Hands Flannigan!

“What am I supposed to do with an assassin? All I want to do is curl up and shop. God I sound pathetic.” Magda says attempting to hide the anxiety spiking through the roof of her dome coursing down to her toes.

“She knows how you can find Hillary!”

That’s all it took. All Magda needed to hear was her name. The utterance of Magda’s one and only Hillary causes each and every one of Magda’s three hundred and eighty five lights adorning her bedroom to flare out bright beams of all encompassing light. The kind of light that only glows for a woman once thought lost and dead to the world soon to be rediscovered. Maybe, thinks Magda, having a reformed violent and dangerous assassin as a companion wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#short story #short fiction #surrealism #indoor lighting #science fiction #sci-fantasy #fantasy #power pop #The quick #Kim Fowley

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ancientbooshartifacts · 4 years

Text

It's Not a Dirty Word

Author: Glitter_Slut_X

Year: 2009

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howince

Thump! Thump!

Howard sat up, disoriented and glanced over at the clock. It read 3:47am. He stilled his breathing for a moment as silence prevailed, then it happened again.

Thump! Thump!

Little squealing noises were coming from the room next to him. Vince's room, he realised, fully adjusted to the dim light after being so rudely jerked out of a deep sleep.

“Ohhh! Yeaaaah, harder harder, oh God!”

Even though nobody was in the room with him, Howard felt his whole face burning with embarrassment. He didn't doubt what was going on in the room next to him. Hell, he'd heard Vince having sex plenty of times before, he'd think he'd be used to it by now, but there was something unsettling about this particular time. Usually it was the girls Vince brought home that would scream and moan their way through the night, the distinct feminine and high-pitched voices would give it away, but this time, the noises that were being elicited from the room across were unmistakably from... a man. And this man was Vince.

Which meant he was the one being fucked.

Which, in turn, meant that the person who was fucking him was another man.

Another throaty groan filled the air, and loud, hard slaps followed a split second after. Howard put a pillow around his head, and over his ears in an effort to drown out the sound. But no avail. Vince was very loud. Howard sighed.

10 minutes later, Vince and his staminate companion were still at it, and by this time, Howard was quickly losing patience. He was so tired, he felt sick and he just knew he would fall asleep in a split second only if those two weren't thumping away next door. It was kinda wrong, but he knew if he wanted to get any sleep, he would have to give them a bit of a talking to.

* *

Okay, so the “talking to” didn't quite go as planned. In fact, if “standing outside Vince's room and listening in” meant giving a “talking to,” which it doesn't, then Howard was doing exactly that. He knew deep down that he felt like the biggest pervert in the world, but he tried dissipate this theory by convincing himself that he was just “waiting for the right opportunity” to tell Vince to keep it down. He pressed his ear harder against the wooden door... all in the name of catching the right opportunity, of course.

“Hold on, swap positions.” He heard Vince's darkened voice say, followed by some rustling and wet, sucking sounds.

“Eh yeahh... just... just a bit harder... can-can you... touch me... no, not there... in my... yeah... now crook your fingers a bit and OH FUCK, I'M COMING!!”

Howard's eyes widened as he heard the filthiest, most perverse words and sounds spill from Vince's mouth, and before he knew it, a cheerful, bobbing erection was jutting out from his pyjama pants. He didn't know if he should be shocked or disgusted by the fact, but before he could stop himself, he had slowly turned the doorknob and peeked through the tiny gap (see, there are some advantages of having small eyes), just in time to see a thin stranger slide his turgid cock inside Vince. The first thrust made Vince pant, the second made him cry out, and on the third, he threw his head back, giving Howard a clear view of his expression; his raven locks glistening with perspiration, red mouth wide open, sultry eyes squeezed shut as he rocked back and forth against the man's penis.

This was wrong.

This was so incredibly wrong.

Here he was, Howard watching his best friend having sex uninvited, and he was getting turned on by it. Yes, he was fucking getting off on it, Vince being fucked hard and thrown around the bed by some faceless stranger. Howard eyes flickered down to Vince's angry-looking, leaking erection and watched in captivation as he jerked himself in tandem with the strangers thrusts.

“Fuck me! I'm not fragile, come on, I love it rough!”

Howard couldn't imagine how Vince could be physically capable of taking it any harder. He'd explored his own lower anatomy before and found one finger up there excruciatingly painful. He couldn't imagine having a 7-8 inch cock up there, let alone it being pleasurable by any means.

Howard's cock was leaking through his pyjama pants now, and he itched to touch himself. He watched as Vince wanked himself frantically, whispering “s'close, s'close.”

Howard was touching himself now, a cool hand down his pyjama pants, wrapping around his hard, aching cock. He resisted the urge to groan in pleasure, so he bit his lip, stifling any sounds.

If Naboo or Bollo were to walk past right now, Howard would have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. And considering the close proximity of their rooms to Vince's, it was a likely scenario.

Oh well, fuck it.

Howard was practically thrusting into his palm now, unconsciously in time with Vince's jerks. He was so close, he could feel the heat spread in waves through his body, rushing toward his groin. Vince came with a silent cry, blue, glistening eyes shooting wide open as a stream of milky cum spurted from his cock and splattered onto his hand and sheets below. Howard clenched his teeth, praying to Mary-mother-of-fucking-God not to make a sound as his balls tightened, and the heat boiled over in his crotch, spurting all over his hand and probably the carpet beneath. As Vince collapsed onto the strangers chest, Howard hurried back to his room and climbed into bed, fighting the urge to cry with shame as Vince's soft snores filled his synapses.

He didn't get back to sleep that night.

* *

Howard's eyes followed the blonde stranger as he leant down and pecked Vince on the lips before striding out of the front door. He made a face as Vince strutted back to the kitchen with the biggest I-got-laid-last-night-and-it-was-fucking-fantastic look on his face, humming along as he buttered a warm croissant.

This was awkward.

Even though Vince was acting like Howard was merely an inanimate object in his presence, Howard still felt embarrassed. His mind whirled with paranoid thoughts. Maybe Vince was deliberately ignoring him because he saw Howard spying on him last night? Nah, he realised after a moment. If Vince did catch him out, he would definitely know about it, and so would the rest of the world.

Vince plonked himself down opposite Howard and started gnawing on his croissant.

“Ma Gooe 'oward, oo 'ould've seen mphfff, mpphhff-”

“For fuck sake, don't speak with your mouth full!”

Vince looked taken back, staring at Howard in shock with his cheeks comically puffed and cream smeared around his mouth. In fact, Howard was a bit taken back aswell. He had no idea where that outburst came from. Vince swallowed, still staring stupidly. Howard wished he wouldn't do that. Vince's outrageously large eyes made him extremely nervous.

“I-I'm sorry, shouldn't of snapped like that. I'm just a bit tired, is all...” Howard apologised, grimacing. Don't look at me like that, just please, don't.

“Oh, so you did hear me and that spunk rat going at it?” Vince was smiling now, not in a good way though. It was the kind of smile that sent shivers down Howard's spine.

“What-no.” Howard denied. “I was just-I had too much coffee, I wasn't listening-I didn't even-”

“'S okay, we were pretty loud. If it makes you feel be'er I'm tired as all hell, and my ass kills. Imagine that?”

He laughed, and took another bite of his croissant. Howard felt something tingly and warm spread throughout his body as he watched Vince lick the cream off his lips slowly, and then put his fingertip into the streaming pastry, bringing another dollop of cream to his lips, sucking it off his finger tauntingly.

“How the fuck can that feel good!?” Howard blurted out. Vince glanced up, looking perplexed.

“Huh?”

“You know, having something up there...”

Vince cocked his head.

“Oh, bumming, sodomy, buggery, having a penis in your anus for Christ sake!” Howard exclaimed, feeling his cheeks heat up. Vince's expression went from perplexed to amused.

“Why? D'ya wanna find out?” Vince said huskily, leaning toward Howard.

“What!? Certainly not!” Howard cried, screwing his face up in disgust. What? He didn't actually want to- did he?

“So you DID listen in last night. Did you like the way I moaned? Did you touch yourself while thinking of me, doing it, getting fucked hard and so good?”

“Well, I-” Howard's mind was swimming, and Vince grinning victoriously wasn't helping. He knew it was over, that this was the pinnacle of his shame, that Vince was going to tell everyone that he was a closet gay virgin who perved on his best friend.

“Do you want me to show you how good it can be? Do you want me to fuck you?”

There it was. Vince was practically touching lips to his right now. He could feel his erection poke through his jeans, wanting attention.

“Know you want it, you dirty bitch.” Oh Lordy, now Vince was grabbing at his crotch, massaging it firmly, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body.

“V-Vince, you can't just touch somebody on their penis without asking and oh-” Howard's eyes rolled back into their sockets as Vince unpopped the buttons of his beige pants and dipped a cool hand beneath, fingertips dancing over the turgid flesh inside.

“Mmm, that alright?” Vince whispered, panting as he stroked Howard's impression erection.

“Mm, good, I-I mean, don't you think th-this a bit forward, at least let me t-take you out to dinner fir-”

“Oh shut-it Howard. Want to fuck you. Get those clothes off now.”

Howard nodded dumbly and practically ripped his vest and trousers off. He blushed as Vince eyed up and down his naked body, licking his glossed lips.

“You're well equipped, ain't you Moon?”

Howard felt his chest swell with pride at these words, but this was soon forgotten when Vince slinked forward and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. An unmanly noise left Howard's mouth as Vince wet his lips and took the tip into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“C-Christy!” Howard blurted out, bucking upwards into Vince's hot mouth. He felt Vince laugh around his penis and suck harder. After a few delicious moments, Vince withdrew, much to Howard's distress, and peered up, smiling cheekily.

“Mmm, you taste good.” He purred, licking his lips. “Now, I'm gonna do something now, but you can't get freaked out okay?”

Christ Vince, you can do anything you bloody well want, just, for all things sacred and holy, don't stop doing that thing you were doing with your mouth! Howard had the urge to scream this, but instead resorted to merely nodding. Looking satisfied, Vince took two fingers to his mouth and sucked on them gently before bringing them to Howard's virgin entrance.

“P-please be gentle.” Howard whimpered as Vince's slick fingers traced over his entrance. The smaller man dipped his head up and gave Howard a soft kiss on the lips.

“It'll hurt a little at first, k. But it'll be so worth it, I promise.”

Howard shuddered as Vince massaged his hole teasingly before easing a fingertip inside. His immediate reaction was to clench up at the intrusion, but relaxed a little when Vince started kissing down his chest, taking a detour to lick and suck on a nipple.

“Ohh...” Now Vince was wriggling and twisting his finger about, trying to get in further.

“Christ Howard, you're so tight.” Vince whispered, frowning. “We're gonna need something... hold on.”

The dull pain was suddenly gone, and Howard heard trotting of boots, then a loud, “FUCK!” Vince returned to the room with an empty tube and a crestfallen look on his face.

“Out.” He said simply, tossing the tube to the side. “I don't usually do this, but I'm gonna do it anyway, cos I'm so not getting cooking oil all over my dick... that's well disgusting. Come 'ere.”

Before Howard had a chance to ask for an explanation, Vince had dragged him over to the sofa and pushed him down into an awkward sitting position, with his legs up slightly.

“Vince, what are you d-”

“Gonna rim you 'Oward.” Vince muttered, seating himself between Howard's legs.

“You're gonna WHAT me- ohh, OH!”

Suddenly, the most incredible, but filthy sensation washed over Howard, and he whimpered, driving his hips down against Vince's wet, probing tongue.

“Ohh, G-god Vince.” Howard didn't dare to look down. Just the sight of Vince tongue-fucking him, making him dirty and open and so good, would be enough to make him come. Vince pushed in again, breaching the tight ring of muscle, feeling Howard open up for him more and more. By the end of it, Howard was a trembling mess begging to be fucked, sucked, anything, Oh Lordy, just anything to make him fucking come.

“Alright, gonna fuck you now 'Oward.” Vince panted, practically tearing off his skinnies and shirt infront of the older man. Howard's cock jumped. There was something so primal and forbidden about his best friend standing infront of him, leaking cock inches away from his lips, wearing nothing but red cowboy boots. Impulsively, Howard's tongue flicked out, tasting Vince for the first time. After a few coy licks, Howard hesitantly closed his mouth around Vince's length and tried to repeat what Vince did to him in the kitchen. Despite the fact he had never done anything like this before, Vince seemed satisfied with his performance, moaning and clutching at Howard's hair, guiding him to go faster or slower, softer or harder.

“Christ, not bad for a virgin.” Vince observed as Howard withdrew and looked up, licking his swollen lips. “How d'ya wanna do this? Cos I figure if it's your first time, you should at least choose the position, although, I personally would go for doggy... easy to wank in. You do know what that is, right?” He added cautiously.

Howard's expression went blank.

“Vince, I may be a virgin, but I'm not a complete fucking moron.” He stated. Vince shrugged.

“Just askin'... on your hands and knees Moon.”

Hesitantly, Howard shifted his body around on the couch and got into position. He twisted his head shyly, looking at Vince.

“Christ Howard, d'ya know how fuckin' hot you look right now?” Vince was running his fingertips over the older mans butt cheeks, stopping to slap the pink flesh. “Your ass is well sexy. Sexiest I've ever seen, apart from mine of course.” Howard took that as a definite compliment; he didn't doubt that Vince had seen a lot of asses in his lifetime.

Vince spat onto his hand and briefly coated his cock before lining himself up to Howard's asshole. He rubbed Howard's back soothingly as he pushed in slowly, feeling the tight ring of muscle cease up then relax, allowing his cock-head to slide in. He could hear Howard swear into a cushion, and Vince mentally kicked himself for using up all the lube on that twink last night. If lube was involved, he'd be fucking Howard hard and fast by now.

“Y'okay?” Howard nodded shakily, focusing his attention on relaxing his body. He felt Vince ease out and then push back in. The burn wasn't as bad this time. Vince did this a few more times until Howard could feel hair tickling his rim.

“Fucking hell, Howard.” Vince groaned from behind, starting to thrust properly now. “You feel s'good, so tight and hot... I could come right now.”

“Oh, please don't.” Howard whimpered in response. That'd be a tragedy, Vince blowing his load before him. Afterall, Howard was supposed to be the virgin here.

After a few experimental thrusts to get Howard used to it, Vince leant down to Howard's ear.

“I'm gonna show you something.” Vince panted, before angling his hips downwards.

“OH!” Howard's eyes shot wide open as the most incredible sensation erupted somewhere in his body. “Christ, do that again!”

Vince did more than that. He grabbed Howard's turgid cock and pumped him hard, in tandem with his thrusts.

“Oh Jesus!” Howard panted, his mind going fuzzy from the sheer deliciousness of Vince's cock banging against his prostate. After three more thrusts, he could feel a tingling sensation building up in his spine.

“Fuck Vince, I'm gonna come!”

“Me too!” Vince panted. “Come with me.”

Vince pumped Howard harder, his thrusts getting more frantic and desperate. He dug his nails into the older man's thigh, seconds away from the edge.

“Now Howard!”

Howard came with a high-pitched shout, his cum splattering all over Naboo's purple couch. Vince gasped as Howard's asshole tightened around him, engulfing him, milking him. He exploded with a wail, and rocked Howard back and forth over his penis, riding his orgasm out. He collapsed beside the older man, chest falling up and down.

“What the fuck was that?” Howard asked after a while.

“That, Howard,” Vince said, grinning, “was the beginning of many years of great, mind-blowing sex.” Howard turned, facing the younger man.

“Oh... OH.” He said in realisation. “Does this mean we're gonna, y'know, do this again then?”

“Course!” Vince laughed, stroking Howard's chest. “Was hoping we could make this a regular thing. D'ya have any idea how long I've wanted to bum you? For ages, Howard.”

Howard nodded in understanding and stroked Vince's hair. Amazingly, Vince didn't scream at him something rotten for this.

“Okay, as long as I get to be on top next time.” He said moments later, smiling as last nights' memories of a sweaty, dishevelled Vince being fucked played in his mind.

The End.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howince #howard moon #vince noir #vince noir/howard moon #vince/howard

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

It’s Complicated Chapter 6: A Little Too Easy

Source: @kendaspntwd

Chapters 1-5 Story on AO3

Amanda Rollins noticed Rafe Rojas the second he walked into the squad room. Only a man who lived in jeans could make them fit like that. And the squint lines around his dark eyes did something to her down low. He was the lean, cowboy type – well, he was a literal cowboy – she absolutely could not resist. His hat was well-worn and didn’t disguise the shagginess of his thick, dark hair. She didn’t mean to come on to him. She liked Frankie, and Frankie was in deep shit. But her older brother was basically sex in cowboy boots. So Amanda got real Southern, real fast, the minute she stepped up to Rafe to introduce herself. Sure, Porter was standing next to him and could have made the introductions. But Amanda’s ovaries were in charge. Or some part of her female anatomy, anyway.

“We’re on our way out to Riker’s,” Porter explained. “We just stopped by to give you guys a chance to ask any questions you may have thought of.”

“Nikki OK with that?”

“Nikki might not be aware of it,” Porter muttered. “And your lives might be easier if you didn’t mention this visit to Stone, either. Unless something good comes out of it. But I trust you guys. I know you’re on Frankie’s side. ”

Dodds introduced himself to Rafe, who was a few inches shorter and a few shades darker. Rafe’s voice was deep and Amanda thought she detected just the slightest twang, like a delicate spice that gave a tasty dish just the right, subtle kick.

For several minutes, the group discussed anything in Frankie’s past that might be either helpful or hurtful, but there was nothing. She was who she was. She had no skeletons, no previous arrests (knife-related or otherwise), and no history of any kind of violence, unless having a hair-trigger temper and a sharp tongue counted. Rafe couldn’t help the case, except to reassure them that there were no surprises in his sister’s past waiting to trip her up.

Porter and Rafe left shortly thereafter. Amanda could feel her thighs quiver when Rafe touched his hat to her and said, “Miss,” as he left. Amanda was positive he gave her a subtle wink along with his nod. She stood just a little too long watching the hallway after they’d turned the corner toward the elevators.

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

Porter ran interference with the guard at Riker’s who tried to keep Rafe from hugging his little sister. He felt responsible for his friend being in prison for a crime she didn’t commit, and he wasn’t about to deny her the small comfort of a hug from her brother.

“You all right, Snot-rocket?” Rafe asked, sitting down next to Frankie.

“Y-yeah,” Frankie stuttered, trying desperately not to cry.

Rafe pulled her head to his shoulder, and Porter signaled to the guard to let them be.

“Everybody sends their love. They’re pissed at you for tellin’ ‘em not to come, but they get it.”

“I can’t-“

“They know. They treatin’ you OK in here?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. My lawyer knows some of the guards, and she has some clients in here, so…”

“Can’t say I’m too impressed with a lawyer whose clients are in prison.”

Frankie gave the tiniest laugh, then sniffled. “She’s good. She’ll get me out of here.”

“Yeah, she will. And if she don’t, me n’ the guys’ll stage a jailbreak. Always wanted to do that.”

“Don’t even joke about that in here,” Frankie told him.

“Ain’t jokin’. So listen, Porter only got us five minutes, so I don’t wanna waste it. Just… you need anything? You need me to do anything?”

“No, there’s nothing. Dean gave you the keys to my apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it for you until you get home. You just hang in, all right? Porter’s gonna find that kid. I met your team at SVU, and they seem like they got their shit together. We got you, OK?”

“OK.”

“By the way, I’m gonna marry that Amanda.”

“She’s way too good for a snot-rocket like you. But you go ahead and try.”

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

Things started to get strange about eight O’Clock the next morning. Peter Stone got a call in his office. Based on an anonymous tip, Detectives Carisi and Tutuola had picked up Juwon Jefferson and had him in custody. And he was talking.

He was a different kid than Stone had seen on the tapes of his first interrogation. For one thing, he was a mass of bruises and cuts. For another, he was giving them real information. The attitude was still on full display, and he was definitely not happy to be there. But at least they had him, and for whatever reason, he was ready to tell them everything he knew about Alan Canady. In part, Stone believed his story that Canady had been a truly evil son of a bitch, and now that he was dead, Juwon could safely say so. But there was no way that was the whole story.

“Yeah, man, I tol’ the Doc to go see the motherfucker, gave her the message he was gonna barbecue her boyfriend if she didn’t show up. Ain’t nothin’ illegal ‘bout that. I just delivered a message.”

“Did he pay you?” Stone asked.

“Yeah, man, you think I play messenger boy for my health?”

“Why did he want to see Dr. Rojas?”

“He said he was gonna fuck her up. Said he was gonna do hisself, make it look like she done it. Guess that’s pretty much what he done, ain’t it? That’s bad-ass, man. Stabbin’ yo’self. That’s cold.”

Stone rolled his eyes. This was all way too convenient. Out of the blue, they get an anonymous tip and this kid who hadn’t cooperated at all is suddenly telling them the exact same wildly implausible story the suspect told? And he just happened to be covered with injuries? No. Somebody got to this kid, and he was either getting something huge out of this, or they had something big over him. Either way, Stone wasn’t about to let Rojas walk on the word of this little tweaker alone.

“Why should I believe you?” Stone asked, looking hard at the kid.

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me. It’s that rich bitch doctor sittin’ in Rikers, not me.”

The kid had talked quite a bit about Alan Canady’s rapes of the three women. That, at least, they could prove. The kid’s evidence gave them probable cause to test Canady’s DNA against the rape kits, which was being done right that moment. Stone thought blackly that it wasn’t like it was hard to collect Canady’s DNA - it was pooled all over the floor in that cheap motel room. But that still didn’t prove who had killed Canady, and it didn’t answer why this kid was suddenly in custody and talking. Stone was suspicious of anything this neat and easy.

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

Later that day, Stone stopped by Barba’s office. Barba was sitting at his desk, tapping a pen and staring off into space.

“Thinking deep legal thoughts?” Stone grinned.

“Shallow ones, anyway. What can I do for you?”

“I wanna talk about this Rojas case.”

Barba frowned. “You can’t talk to me about that case.”

“Not about the case itself, just… Hypothetically, what would you say if you had a case with a very hard to find, reluctant, unreliable witness, who suddenly gets found by an ‘anonymous source’ and starts singing like a canary?” Stone made himself comfortable in one of the chairs in front of Barba’s desk.

“I’d smell a rat. Especially if this suddenly cooperative witness is a junkie.”

“He is. Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically. Look, I’m in an impossible spot here. You know that. I know Francisca Rojas didn’t kill Alan Canady.”

“You don’t know that, and neither does anyone else except Canady. And he’s not talking.”

“I have instincts, same as you. And I know this woman.”

“You’ve known this woman for a whole month. And you’re fucking her. Tends to mess with the instincts, Barba.”

Rafael shot Stone an irritated look and gave a snort of annoyance. “What, exactly, do you want from me here? There’s no way she did it. I know that. But if you’re asking me whether you can believe this tweaker’s sudden conversion to the light, I’d say no. So you get all the information you can out of him, and you check it all out, and you prove she didn’t do it with that evidence.”

“What the hell’s happened to everyone around here? Since when are we in the business of proving someone didn’t do a crime?” Stone snapped.

“Since always. We prove the truth, not just what we want to be true. That’s why I’m saying don’t buy the tweaker’s story. I’d like Franci- Dr. Rojas out of Riker’s today. But you have a job to do, and that means you need to be right.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Stone smirked, getting up.

“That’s what I’m here for. Get her out. Soon. But do it the right way.”

Rafael was troubled. The tweaker was back and now he was talking? What had she done? Or what had been done on her behalf?

**********

The DNA matched. Alan Canady was the Pattern 20 rapist. Unfortunately, that didn’t prove who had killed him. Nothing did. The autopsy was consistent with either Canady stabbing himself or someone else stabbing him; it was inconclusive either way. And both his fingerprints and Frankie Rojas’s were on the knife. True, Canady had no defensive wounds, but she could simply have gotten a lucky shot before he realized what was happening. Because Barba’s building had no security cameras, there was no way to prove that Canady or Jefferson had somehow gotten in and stolen the knife. From an evidence standpoint, that meant it was equally likely that either Frankie had killed Canady, or he had done it himself.

In the end, the Manhattan DA’s office had no choice but to drop the charges against Frankie Rojas. With the tweaker kid’s testimony, there was simply too much reasonable doubt for Nikki Staines to work with. Nikki had actually been in the office the day the decision was made, raising holy hell and making Peter Stone’s life miserable. Stone wasn’t happy about any of it – he felt like they had been played by someone who had gotten to the tweaker kid, but he couldn’t prove it, and he had other cases he could prove. So they dropped the charges and Nikki blew up the phones at Riker’s as she drove out to collect her client, making sure they would have her processed out and ready when Nikki arrived.

She called Dean Porter from her car. “You heard?”

“Yeah. Can I go pick her up?”

“I’m on my way now. But listen. I’m never gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, but Stone thinks he got played, and I can’t blame him. Is there anything I should know about that Jefferson kid? It does seem like he had a pretty sudden, and violent, change of heart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. I just want to know I’m not gonna get any surprises, and my client isn’t either.”

“You won’t. I swear to you, Nikki, it’s all above board. The kid was telling the truth.”

“Yeah, but why was he telling the truth?”

“You know what? Take the win. It’s all good.”

“It better be. You got a lot to lose these days.”

“Yeah, life is good. And I wouldn’t jeopardize that. We didn’t do anything to the tweaker kid that’s gonna hurt us. Or you. Or Frankie.”

“You didn’t, huh? Then who’s ‘we’?”

“Did I say ‘we’? I meant ‘I’. Hey, Nikki, my other line is ringing. I gotta answer that. Nice working with you.”

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

Frankie was pretty sure she was being set up. She didn’t really like it, given what she’d just been through, but it was hard to find a basis to complain. Her brother and Amanda had become very… close, and were both claiming that, since he was planning to fly back to Austin in the morning, it was their last opportunity to spend time together. So, as badly as they felt about it – yeah, sure, she thought – they wondered whether Frankie would mind spending one more night at Barba’s. Besides which, all her things were at Barba’s. And they claimed already to have set it up with him.

Frankie dimly felt that it was bizarre for people who loved her to be worrying about romance, their own or hers, after she had just been in prison for murder. But she was exhausted. She’d barely eaten or slept in the five days since her arrest, and she’d been in an emotional spin-cycle the entire time. The truth was, she wanted two things. She wanted to take a shower for about a week, followed by a soak in a bathtub for a month. And she wanted Barba.

She hadn’t spoken to him since her arrest. He’d retained Nikki for her, and she’d had messages from him through Porter, but that had been all he could do. Now that she was about to see him again, she was in a turmoil of different emotions. She felt physically hideous and soiled, and she felt emotionally battered and horribly ashamed. She thought she was far too needy to be going to stay with a man she knew as little as she knew Barba. But, apparently, she was the only one who felt that way, because he was waiting for her when Nikki pulled up at the curb in front of his building.

He looked absolutely delectable to her. Gorgeous and kind and caring and opening his arms to her before she was all the way out of the car, even though all she had to wear home was the terrible sweats they’d given her at the M.E.’s office when they’d taken her bloody clothes. Nikki smiled broadly at Rafael as he moved to push the car door closed, cradling Frankie in his arms.

“Thank you,” he mouthed.

“My pleasure,” she replied, waving. She liked the idea of Barba owing her one.

Rafael gently guided Frankie through the door to the lobby, and held her while they waited for the elevator.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” she mumbled into his shirt. She hadn’t looked at him, really, as she’d climbed out of Nikki’s car, just put her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

“I would have come to your place, if you hadn’t come here. Even with your brother there. I want to help. I’ve felt so fucking useless these past days…”

She squeezed him, hard. “You called Nikki. You shouldn’t even have done that. That was everything.”

“I know you didn’t kill him, Francisca.”

“No, you don’t. No one does, except me and him. But I didn’t. I swear it.”

“Still arguing with me…” he said with a grin, as he led her into the elevator, still with her arms clasped to him and her face buried. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was wonderful to have her in his arms again, to be able to comfort her as he’d been aching to for days. But the way she was clinging to him spoke of a depth of fear and anguish that he’d only guessed at. He was intensely grateful she had come to him so that he could help her through it. He was honored that his fresa, usually so dauntless and fiery, and now so crushed and wounded, would allow herself to be this vulnerable with him. He vaguely realized that he would do anything for this woman in his arms, but he paid little attention to the thought, as he thought about what he could do to help her begin to recover from her ordeal.

She released him from her arms when he closed the door behind them, but stayed right next to him.

“I’m guessing you’d like the longest, hottest shower in the history of the world,” he suggested.

“I’d give my left arm for that,” she sighed softly.

“No charge for guests. You go get in the shower, and I’ll bring you a drink.”

“Do you happen to have any scotch?”

Rafael couldn’t help but laugh at that. Everyone knew about Rafael Barba and scotch. He was a little amused by this evidence that they really hadn’t known each other that long. “I have scotch.”

When he had poured a scotch for each of them, he hesitated outside the door to his bathroom for a moment. He could hear the water running, and see billows of steam floating lazily into the bedroom. But he was suddenly unsure what she was expecting. Did she want privacy? Should he wait for her to come out? Well, he’d told her he was going to bring her a drink. Besides, he realized, the steam was escaping into the bedroom because she had left the door ajar. He knocked tentatively and pushed the door open a little.

“Francisca? I brought your drink.”

She didn’t respond. He noticed the sweatshirt and pants she’d been wearing wadded up on the floor.

“What do you want me to do with these sweats?”

It took her a second to answer. “Bonfire,” she finally said in a choked voice.

He was sure he heard a sob. He didn’t hesitate, but stepped into the room, set his drink on the counter, and pulled the shower curtain back just enough to see her. Her hands were splayed on the tile wall and she was leaning on both arms, head hanging, crying hard and trying to be silent about it.

“Oh, mi fresa,” he said, pulling the curtain back and stepping, fully clothed, into the shower to take her into his arms. She instantly let out a groan of agony, turning into him and clinging to him as she sobbed into his shoulder. He held her drink just outside the spray of the shower.

For long minutes, he just held her and let her cry, while the hot water cascaded down and soothed her. He didn’t realize he had begun to hum softly to her until she turned her face into his neck, muttering, “That’s nice.”

When she seemed to be done crying, he moved them a bit to the side and held the glass to her. “Here, drink this,” he said softly, not letting go of her. She downed its contents in one gulp and handed it back to him. He smiled.

When he felt her arms loosen around him, he reached behind her and set the glass down on the shower’s built-in tile shelf. He took a bottle of shampoo and poured a little into his hand. Moving her just a bit backward out of the spray, he began to shampoo her hair. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, the slightest smile touching her lips. When he was done, he moved her under the spray to rinse her hair and began to soap her body. He tried not to make it sexual, given the situation and the fact that he was still wearing all of his now-soaked clothes. But it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she moved into his hands from time to time. He conditioned her hair when he’d finished washing her, and moved her once again under the spray to rinse out the conditioner.

“MMmmmmmm,” she said. “This feels so nice.”

“That’s the point,” he said, leaning down without thinking and kissing her.

He was just preparing to be concerned about pushing her when she reached to put a hand behind his head and wind her fingers in his wet hair, pulling his mouth harder on hers. After thoroughly kissing him, she looked into his eyes for the first time since she’d arrived.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I mean that in a number of different ways. I like having you here, and I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she said. “Can we take a bath?”

“Of course we can.”

“And… will you please take your clothes off? I don’t care what you do when you’re alone, but I refuse to take a bath with a clothed man.”

Rafael put his forehead to Frankie’s. “No, I won’t take them off. But you’re welcome to, if you want.”

“Oh, you’re a pain in the ass, Barba.” She kissed him again and began undressing him.

When she had his clothes off, he quickly washed his hair and turned the dial that turned off the shower and began to fill the tub. Pulling back the curtain, he picked up the pile of wet clothes and wrung them out as best he could, then tossed them across the bathroom into the sink to be dealt with later.

“You get comfortable.” He said. “I’ll be right back.”

Rafael quickly padded out to his kitchen and retrieved the bottle of scotch, bringing it to the bathroom and setting it down next to the tub where Frankie was pouring some shampoo under the water to make bubbles. He took his glass from the counter, lifted hers from the shelf in the shower, and put them on the edge of the bathtub, then stepped into the water. She moved to let him get seated behind her, then scooted between his legs and relaxed against his chest.

He poured some scotch into her glass and handed it to her, then picked up his own. He wrapped one arm around her and she held his arm with hers. They sat in the rapidly-filling tub and sipped in silence.

When the tub was full, Frankie used her foot to turn off the water and turned herself so that she was lying on her side, her cheek on his chest, and could put both arms around him.

“I love you,” she murmured, eyes closed and smiling.

Rafael kissed the top of her head, wondering whether she could possibly have meant what she’d just said. She lay quietly, seemingly perfectly satisfied with no response other than a kiss. She’d had two drinks – he had only poured a couple of fingers each time, but he had no idea when the last time she’d slept or eaten was, and for all he knew, she was asleep right this second. Maybe she didn’t even know she’d said it. He decided that’s what it was. His chest felt warm anyway, and it wasn’t just because of the scotch.

He thought he dozed a little, lying there holding her in the hot, bubbly water. He was gently nudged back into consciousness when she shifted between his legs and mumbled, “It’s getting cold.”

“You want to put in some more hot water?”

“Mmmmmm, I want to be in bed. I don’t want to get out of this tub and move to the bed. I just want to be in bed without that part.”

“I’d like to do that for you, mi fresa, but I don’t think I possess that particular skill.”

She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. “OK, we’ll do it the hard way.”

They helped each other to stand and climb out of the tub, and Rafael wrapped Frankie in a deliciously large, fluffy towel. She was too sleepy to comment, but she made a mental note to compliment him on his taste in towels – and scotch – in the morning. Neither bothered much with their hair – Rafael just toweled his off and Frankie twisted hers into a quick bun on top of her head. They quickly brushed their teeth, leaning on one another, and were cuddled together in bed very soon thereafter, arms around one another and her head cradled on his shoulder.

In the soft light coming through the window, Frankie looked up at Rafael. She lifted her lips to kiss his jaw and he turned his head to take her lips between his. He was a bit surprised when she subtly shifted her body and opened her mouth to his, sliding her hand down his side to his hip and thigh, angling her caress until she was softly cupping him in her hand.

“Barba?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Will you please make love to me?”

“Anything for you.”

He followed her lead, going slowly and touching her softly, never taking his mouth from hers, even when whispering endearments and praise. Her soft moan as she came with him inside her was pure enchantment, and he was almost positive it contained a whispered, “I love you.”

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #peter stone #Law & Order Nikki Staines #law & order SVU Agent Dean Porter

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ironspiidey · 4 years

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Superhero’s get Bullied Too- Chapter 8

Chapter: 1

Chapter 8: Tony Stark and Snooping Through Messages

Read on A03

Harley looked up from his phone, hearing his uncle’s angry voice.

“What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath before getting up and opening his bedroom door.

“I need to know everything you know involving Thompson.”

Harley eyed him confused “Has age finally caught up to you? I’ve already told you everything I knew.”

“I’m not fucking around here Harley” he pushed his nephew to the side & made a gesture to the far wall. A projected screen of text messages between an unknown number and Peter showed.

Harley followed his uncle then frowned at the screen projected on his wall “What’s that?”

“This is a conversation between Peter and who I believe to be Flash Thompson. So this is the last time I will be asking, tell me everything you know in regards to him. “

Harley walked closer to the wall, swallowing as he read the messages. “What the fuck? When did this start.”

Tony turned fully and eyed his nephew “Wait so you’re telling me you had no idea of this?” He gestured again, and more screens appeared with more crude messages

Harley’s eyes widened “What do you take me for? If I knew what Peter was being put through Flash would be fucking dead!!!”

“Tone Harley.”

“Fuck this. He is so beyond dead. I don’t even care.”

Tony grabs Harley by the scruff of his neck. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Fucking let go of me. You’re not the boss of me Stark” Harley seethed and fought his uncle, trying to break free.

“Harley calm down!” when the teenager refused Tony hauled him back and grabbed his arms, putting them behind the teens head and holding tight “Stop it Harley. Harley!” Tony raised his voice as the blonde kept refusing to settle

“Fuck you. I hate you. Let me go!”

“Well I love you and I can do this all fucking day.” Tony snarled

“Boss?” Friday called out

“Yes Friday?” the older man answered gruffly, still restraining his nephew

“Incoming call from Karen Sir, Should I patch it to you directly or over loudspeaker?

“Let it come over loudspeaker.” Tony gripped the fighting teenager harder and Harley stopped fighting all together upon hearing about Peter

“Tony!”

“Hey Babyboy, been worried about you.”

“Yeah uh I’m sorry about that.” Peter laughed nervously “I uh forgot my phone.”

“Yeah I noticed.” Tony said dryly, giving his nephew a look that clearly meant don’t fuck up before letting him go

“Everything alright? You sound weird.”

“I’m fine, where are you?”

“Don’t lie to me Tony, I’m just at Aunt May’s. Calling you from my suit, but Friday probably already mentioned it.”

“I’m better now that I know you’re okay sweetheart. Your coming back right Pete?”

“Yeah of course, I just went out to visit May but got sidetracked. “

Tony frowned as Friday silently brought up Karen’s report of Peter’s Vitals “Peter...”

“What?”

“Did you get into a fight? Did Flash get to you?”

“What no. No! Flash? “Peter sounded confused “Why would you think Flash got to me?”

“I’m looking at your Vitals report Peter.”

“Dammit Karen, stop ratting me out to Friday. But still that doesn’t explain… Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Anthony Howard Stark, were you snooping in my room?”

Tony swallowed, noticing Peter’s tone didn’t sound angry. “It’s hardly your room anymore!”

“You hacked into my phone.” Peter stated.

“Well to be fair, Friday just helped me figure out your passcode, I didn’t even need to hack it.”

“She helped you?”

“I thought it was your birthday but Friday told me to try something else and it worked.” Tony shrugged at Harley’s eye roll.

“Whatever, either way you didn’t need to go into my phone!”

“Apparently I did!! Because you weren’t about to be 100% truthful!” Tony started to raise his voice

“That doesn’t mean you get the right to go through my shit!”

“Yes it does! Peter Jesus Christ don’t you see that he could seriously fucking hurt you. “

“I’m not doing this now. Imma go.”

“Peter wait! Let me come get you.”

“I’m not planning to leave yet.”

“Well let me come get you in an hour.” Tony asked, knowing how much Peter hates it when Tony raises his voice and despite what most people think, Tony hates it too.

“I think I need to be alone a bit Tony.”

“But you’re still coming home?” he asked nervously

Peter sighed “Yes. Regardless of you being an utter ass, I still love you so yes I’ll be home.”

Harley smirked “Well how about Happy? He could pick you up.”

“Harley? Wait. You’ve had me on speaker this whole time?”

Tony ignored Peter’s question. “So Happy can pick you up in an hour.”

Peter sighed again “Yeah have him pick me up then. But this isn’t over Tony. Bye Harley. Bye Tony.”

“See ya in a bit Parker.” Harley said at the same time as Tony said “Love you Petey.”

Which made Harley shake his head. His uncle really didn’t know when to leave a person alone

“Love you too. I’m hanging up now.”

Tony looked at his nephew when the call disconnected “What?”

“You really like Peter don’t you Tony?” Harley walked over and sat down on the bed

Tony followed Harley and pulled the desk chair closer to the bed. Sitting down on it he said softly “Yeah I kind of do like a lot.”

“You get crazy when it comes to people you care about.” The blonde stated

Tony licked his lips but nodded. “Yep and hopefully I didn’t just scare him away.”

“I know he wouldn’t want me to tell you this but Uncle I doubt you could scare Peter Parker away the hardest you could try.”

Tony rolled his eyes “You don’t need to flatter me with bullshit Harley.”

Harley leaned forward to look Tony dead in the eye. “This isn’t bullshit. I know for a fact he’s in love with you. Like the marrying kind of love. He doesn’t tell you or me what goes on because he knows Flash’s dad works for you and you would stop at nothing to teach Flash a lesson. Peter doesn’t want anyone to pay for some idiots actions by proxy. “

Tony looked at his nephew for a minute before speaking “When did you become so wise nephew.”

Harley shrugged then looked at the text messages on the wall “When did these start anyway.”

Tony looked at the conversations and went between pages with a flick of his wrist “The first ones in this conversation start 2 months ago.”

“Months? I’ve only known about Flash being a complete dick since a few weeks after you got together. And these are only what he has left on his phone”

Tony raised an eyebrow “What do you mean only what’s left?

“I know Flash was a bit of an ass to Peter for years. Something had to have happened to make him switch from basic dickness to this shit.” Harley states.

Tony eyes widen “Why didn’t I think of this sooner. Friday?”

“Yes boss?”

“Scan Peter’s phone for deleted messages from that unknown number. Before you try and say anything, this is for his safety.”

“May I call Ms. Potts for confirmation as she also had the protection of privacy protocol in place?”

Harley snorted, knowing full well how Pepper would react to their snooping.

Peter shook his head as he pulled his mask off. Heading back into the living room, he had walked into the hallway to talk to Tony and clearly that was a good idea. He took a deep breath then forced a smile on his face as he walked in.

“All good?” May asked from the couch

Peter nodded. “Yeah they were worried about me but it’s all good now.”

“They’re not the only ones worried.”

“Whatcha mean?” Peter asked as he sat down beside her.

May tilted her phone screen so both of them could see it. There were Facebook messages from both MJ & Ned. May tapped on Ned’s chat bubble “See?”

Peter read through the messages then leaned ahead and pressed on MJ’s chat bubble and shook his head “They’re like the FBI.”

“Should I be worried Peter?”

“Oh no, not even. Flash was bugging me again and I just told him how it was and I haven’t had a chance to really tell em about it”

May nodded in understanding. “So they’re just hearing gossip from other kids?”

“Exactly.”

“Shouldn’t you call them then?”

“It’s okay, they’ll be fine till I get back to the tower. “

“Peter…”

“What? I’m here to see you not spend all afternoon yaking off to my friends.” Peter shrugged

May gave him a knowing look “But you were quick as shit to tell Tony Stark where you were. “

Peter blushed “And?”

“And from Ned’s messages you left school early with Harley. But your best friends have no idea what’s going on. MJ even told me she called Harley.”

“May its fine, I’m fine. I swear. Nerds honor.” Peter raised his hand and made the Spock symbol.

May shook her head and handed him her phone “Message them from my Facebook at least, I’ll go crazy if I have to deal with much more of Ned’s mothering.” She got up “How’s some cocoa and Greys Anatomy sound for a bit?”

“Fine! And sounds great, don’t forget the marshmallows.” Peter took her phone and created a group chat with MJ and Ned

M: Hey guys Its Peter, Im alive and well. I left my phone at the tower and am with aunt may! You guys are like the fbi, you don’t need to worry so much.

N: DUDE OMG WHY ARE YOU USING MAY’S PHONE. DID SOMETHING HAPPEN HARLEY WOULDN’T TELL MJ ANYTHING

MJ: calm down weirdo, glad your okay loser. Seriously tho what happened to your phone? You don’t go anywhere wo it.

M: Wow ned nice yelling at me through texts. I just came home and left my phone back @ the tower. I was just beyond done with today and had some much needed Chinese. Sorry if Harley gave yall a tough time

N: sorry dude just worry about you when you disappear, glad your alright . chill soon?

M: All is good guys. Ill message you later tonight, mays got hot cocoa and greys to watch.

MJ: oooh hot cocoa. Enjoy loser.

N: Jeallllous dude. Ttyl

Peter closed the chats and deleted them. “Hey May. I’m just going to use your phone to tell Mr. Stark not to send Happy out for another hour or two okay?”

May walks in with two hot steaming cups of homemade hot cocoa. “Actually, you can just text happy yourself.”

Peter raised an eyebrow “Text Happy?”

“Yeah he’s the second conversation. Hand me my phone.” She passed him one of the mugs as he handed her the phone.

May sat down beside her nephew then pulled up her text app, clicking on her second conversation which was with one Happy Hogan.

Peter watched her curiously. “What are you doing texting Happy?”

May almost blushed. “I’m allowed to have friends Peter.”

“Yeah of course but Happy?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well he’s Mr. Stark’s driver!”

She raised an eyebrow “and your point? You don’t see me prodding you about being around a man half your age in almost all your spare time!”

Peter looked at her and debating on saying more but she was right. While May didn’t know fully just what went on during his time with Iron man. She was exceptionally cool about it.. He let him come and go from the apartment to the tower without much fuss. While it really weirded him out the thought of Happy and his aunt spending time together. She did deserve someone, especially a nice someone. After Uncle Ben passed away there hadn’t been a lot of successful suitors so who was he to judge.

Peter smiled “Well I’m happy for you then.”

May smirked and shoved him “Don’t be so excited, we’re just talking. We haven’t gone on a date yet. “

“Well do it!! Happy is a standup guy and he puts up with Harley and Mr. Starks antics so we know he can handle you.”

May flicks his hear “rude. Anyways! What do you want me to tell Happy.”

Peter started laughing and took a sip of his drink “Just tell him we’re going to watch an episode or two of Greys. Then I’ll be ready.”

May nods and types for a moment before sitting her phone down on the table. She picked up the tv remote and got Netflix started.

“Ready for some Mcdreamy time?”

“Always” Peter said with a grin.

#starker #my fic #harley keener is a good bro #tony is protective of his Petey #flash is a dick #superheros get bullied too #new chapter #ironspiidey writes #A03 #tony stark x peter parker #tony snoops #friday is sassy #mine #may parker #ned and mj are like the fbi

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cute-peter-parker · 5 years

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Lady in Redddd

Peter woke up to light kisses peppering his face. “Tonyyyyyy” he grumbled, “what time is it?”

“Nearly 10, sweetheart. Now get up so we can eat breakfast.”

“10 is too early to wake up, it’s sundayyyy.” Peter whined while rolling away from Tony to try and go back to sleep.

“Nope. No more sleeping. Saturday’s are the only time I can hangout all day with you. We’re getting up and getting the day started.” Tony said, hopping out of bed and tugging Peter’s arm to get his lazy ass up.

“Fine fine.” Peter relented, and let himself be yanked up by his boyfriend only to be let go and dropped back onto the bed.

“Oh my god!” Tony yelled, his face turning white.

“What? What?!” Peter questioned frantically with wide eyes.

“Pete you and the bed are covered in blood. What the hell happened?!”

Peter rushed to jump out of bed and looked down at the sheets in shock. The once pristinely white sheets were a deep shade of red, it wasn’t an insane amount of blood but it was enough to Peter feel woozy.

“Jesus christ peter, it’s all over the back of your pants... I’m calling Dr. Cho.” Tony said already taking his phone out to call Hellen.

“Wh-what’s wrong with me?” Peter asked, voice shaking.

“I.. I don’t kno- Hello? Cho, are you here at the compound? Alright, I’m taking Peter to see you now.” Tony said quickly before hanging up. “Come on baby.” Tony said softly, and picked Peter up bridal style, holding him closely.

“You- you’re gonna get blood on you.” Peter said timidly, incredibly afraid because he had no idea what was happening to him.

“Do I look like I give a fuck about that Pete? Now do you feel any pain.” Tony asked softly, clearly worried about his younger boyfriend. He quickly started walking towards Hellen Cho’s clinic.

“Um no.. well my stomachs hurts really bad.” Peter admitted.

This seemed to stress out Tony even more and he picked up his speed to get Peter some help.

—————

“So the blood seems to be coming out of his anus. Is it possible you went a little rough on him last night?” Dr. Cho asked while examining Peter who was sat on the examine table.

“Wha- no! We haven’t even- we’ve never.” Tony stumbled in embarrassment, cheeks flames red.

Dr. Cho raised her eyebrows. “So you and Peter have not had intercourse.”

“No! We’re waiting until he’s ready.” Tony said exasperatedly.”

“Well I’ve been ready, Mr. Stark just wants to make sure I’m super duper ultra ready to give him my virginity.” Peter pointed out.

“Until you can stop calling me Mr. Stark you’re not ready.” Tony rolled his eyes.

“As cute as this is, I need to examine Peter. Peter can you pull down your pants and bend over the table.” Dr. Cho interrupted, sliding on some latex free gloves.

“Geez Dr. Cho, at least buy me dinner first.” Peter joked, already doing what the doctor asked.

“Peter this is serious.” Tony reprimanded.

“It’s fine. He’s nervous.” Dr. Cho said. “Now let’s see what going on down there.”

She prodded her fingers around and in Peter’s entrance. Her face becoming more confused as seconds went by. “That’s... odd. There doesn’t seem to be any tearing, I think we ‘re going to need to run some tests.” Cho decided, taking her fingers out and rolling off the bloody glove. “Mr. Stark can you please wait outside while I run some tests on Peter?”

“Why can’t I stay here? It’s my lab.” Tony said, crossing his arms in defiance.

“It’s okay Tony, it’ll probably be better if you’re not here. You seeing Dr. Cho with her fingers up my ass was embarrassing enough.” Peter admitted blushing.

“Language.” Tony reprimanded. “But alright I’ll wait outside, come get me if either of your need anything.”

—————

About an hour had passed before Dr. Cho let Tony back into the room. He looked at Peter who was sitting on the examining table, looking white as a sheet. Tony went straight to him and pressed a kiss to his head.

“Did you find out what’s wrong with him, doc?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s there’s something ‘wrong’ with him.” Dr. Cho said, using air quotes. “Although you may want to sit down for this.”

“Cut the cliches and just tell me why my boy was bleeding so much.” Tony said, frustration evident in his voice.

“Alright well... it appears that Peter has developed a female reproductive system. And the blood you saw is his period.” Dr. Cho explained.

Tony laughed nervously. “Dr. Cho please be serious.” He said, his eyes darting back and forth between her and Peter. When discovering the serious looks on their faces, his own face paled. “How- how did this happen? You said he developed it? So he wasn’t born with this? And what’re you saying? Peter can get pregnant? He doesn’t have a fucking vagina, where does the baby come out of? His ass??” Tony rambled, walking back and forth across the room.

“Tony, calm down. We think maybe this is a side effect of the spider bite. It may have been female so maybe it causes me to develop the uh... female equipment. It’s just all connected to my...” Peter trailed off, blushing.

“It’s all connected to his rectum. So if he were to get pregnant the baby would be born through there.” Dr. Cho explained. “It’s honestly a miracle, I mean Peter was already a miracle but this just brings it over the top. I would love to examine is anatomy further”

“No. Nope, you’re not turning my boyfriend into a lab rat.” Tony interjected. “Come on Pete, lets go get you back in bed.” He said, already bending to pick Peter up bridal style again.

“I’m on my period Tony, I’m not dying.” Peter joked.

“Fine, he can leave. But don’t expect me not to follow up on this. Also I recommend you buying Peter some sanitary napkins. I already gave him one of mine but he’ll need more. Especially considering how heavy his flow is.” Dr. Cho said, reluctant to let Peter leave. She had so much more to study about him, he’s the first male ever to grow a female reproductive system!

“Thanks Cho, but i’ll take it from here.” Tony said, leaving the room with Peter held tightly in his arms.

—————

Tony set Peter down on the bathroom counter as he ran a bath. He threw in a huge amount of bubble bath and one of those brightly colored bath bombs Peter always keeps at Tony’s. When the entire bathroom was steamy and smelled like lavender, Tony helped undress the younger male despite his protests of being fine. They both eased into the hot, floral smelling water, with Peter’s back up against Tony’s chest.

The older man started to wash Peter and the latter began to relax with a sigh.

“Do you think I’m a freak?” Peter questioned, breaking the silence.

“Of course not, sweetheart. I didn’t think you were a freak when I saw what spider-man could do. And I sure as hell don’t think you’re a freak now.” Tony said reassuringly.

“But... I can probably get pregnant now. Does this change anything?” Peter asks unsure.

“Baby, this is honestly great news. Now we don’t have to adopt kids, we can have kids of our own. With your looks and my genius genes, our kids will be unstoppable!” Tony smiles widely at the thought. He always had the thought of kids in the back of his mind. But he had never gave it too much thought about it until now. Just imagining a future with Peter and few cute, little geniuses running around sounded amazing.

“You... you wanna have kids together?” Peter turned around to face Tony, a surprised look on his adorable face.

Fuck. Tony thought. Was this too fast? He and Peter hadn’t even had sex yet! What if the boy decides this was moving too fast and he broke up with Tony? Did he just royally fuck this up? Oh fuck-

“Of course I do.” Tony replies before letting his thoughts go even crazier.

Peter smiled widely and threw is arms around Tony. “I love you so much Tony. Like you don’t even know how much love i’ve got for you in my superhuman heart.”

Tony smiled back before giving Peter a deep kiss on the lips.

“Wanna go make a baby now? Well I mean after this weird period is over and I start ovaltining?” Peter said, seeming very very excited.

“Ovaltine... baby do you mean ovulating?” Tony began to chuckle.

Peter lightly slapped Tony’s chest. “Give me a break, i’ve only been partly a woman for a couple of hours.

___________

So this idea was submitted to me by someone and I am very sorry that it is not good, I tried, I swear.

#starker #starker fic #starker au #starker fluff

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acuppellarp · 6 years

Photo

If you’d like to participate, simply reblog this post. And please remember to send asks and not just answer them! If, say, 10 people reblog it, each of them should have received at least 10 asks by the end of the week :)

Meme Monday: Texting Edition

Note: All of the prompts below can be modified!. Do you think your character would word something slightly different or add more to the text? Go for it! Feel free to mix and match and make the prompts work for you!

DRUNK TEXTS

[TEXT] I can’t stop listening to our song.

[TEXT] My pillow still smells like you.

[TEXT] You left your cologne when you moved out. I used it up.

[TEXT] Do you even love me?

[TEXT] I th unk drink? Help me can home?!!!! :xx)

[TEXT] What happened to us?

[TEXT] I just want to eat bacon and see you naked. And then eat bacon off of you naked.

[TEXT] IM26C4U.

[TEXT] You never gave a shit about me.

[TEXT] Now you know how it feels.

[TEXT] I still love you.

[TEXT] I can’t stop thinking about all the times you told me you loved me. And wondering if they were lies.

ANGSTY TEXTS

[TEXT] I miss you

[TEXT] Come over, we need to talk.

[TEXT] Wait, you're cheating on me?

[TEXT] Oh, right. I probably wasn't good enough any way.

[TEXT] Come over. You left your underwear here.

[TEXT] I keep dreaming of you and I hate you but I don't want to leave you.

[TEXT] I can't open this jar of pickles and I’m lying on the floor crying and I know I haven't talked to you in a month but please help.

[TEXT] You butt dialed me last night and I heard you say you loved them.

[TEXT] You butt dialed me last night and I heard them say they loved you.

[TEXT] When I kiss them I can only think of you.

[TEXT] I'm sick and I have no one else to be with me. Please come over.

[TEXT] You left your facebook open on my computer and your ex messaged you.

NSFW TEXTS

[TEXT] You can’t have me if you can’t even get the three C’s. Chocolates, champagne, and candles.

[TEXT] Check you left pocket. I’m not wearing those anymore.

[TEXT] I’m in the bath. Come join me?

[TEXT] Don’t tease. You know I like it rough.

[TEXT] How do you feel about sexting?

[TEXT] Bed, counter, or floor?

[TEXT] You should let me help you out with that.

[TEXT] What do you think about threesomes? And, what about foursomes?

[TEXT] You’ve been naughty, I’m going to punish you.

[TEXT] I can’t believe you just sent me that. I’m at ACup!

[TEXT] Send nudes.

[TEXT] [ Nudes attached ]

JEALOUS TEXTS

[TEXT] Did you have fun with you-know-who last night?

[TEXT] I guess my company doesn't interest you any more.

[TEXT] What do you see in _______?

[TEXT] When's the wedding?

[TEXT] Is there... someone else?

[TEXT] Do they do that thing that I do for you?

[TEXT] I see you'll flirt with just about anyone.

[TEXT] I'm a fool for thinking I was special to you.

[TEXT] How serious is it between you two?

[TEXT] You've been spending a lot of time with _______ recently.

[TEXT] So that's your type.

[TEXT] Who's better in bed?

MISCELLANEOUS TEXTS

[TEXT] I used to think masturbation meant chewing your food.

[TEXT] I’ve seen every episode of Grey’s Anatomy like 3 times. I practically have a PhD.

[TEXT] That wasn’t the truth bus, that was the bitchy cross town express.

[TEXT] That would’ve been weird, if not actively traumatic.

[TEXT] Where did I put that rat’s ass I could give?

[TEXT] I think it’s brave to try to be happy.

[TEXT] If you were Clark Kent, what would you do right now?

[TEXT] How can you start again with someone who only knows who you were before?

[TEXT] I’m not gonna pretend to be something I’m not. It’s stressful.

[TEXT] I need to tell you something but you have to promise not to get mad.

[TEXT] You’ll never guess who just texted me.

[TEXT] Hello? Did you forget about me? I’ve been waiting for you to pick me up for an hour!

WRONG NUMBER TEXTS ****The name going in the _______ should be the character who’s receiving the ask.

[WRONG #] Yeah no _______ and I are just friends.

[WRONG #] _______ doesn’t mean anything to me. Stop worrying.

[WRONG #] Don’t worry, I’m sick of _______. I’m done.

[WRONG #] It’s just a game to me.

[WRONG #] Sometimes I’m just glad _______ and I are over.

[WRONG #] I dislike _______ so much.

[WRONG #] _______ doesn’t mean a thing to me.

[WRONG #] THIS STAYS BETWEEN US.

[WRONG #] Congratulations. You actually convinced me to sleep with you.

[WRONG #] Oh my God, _______ would be so ashamed of me right now.

[WRONG #] Can you pick me up from the bar? Drank too much to get home on my own.

[WRONG #] I think _______ is beautiful.

#meme monday

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jazy3 · 6 years

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Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy Episode: 14X20

It’s the Weedisode!!! Haha here we go! And of course Meredith is completely relaxed and Jo is freaking out! Classic. “You’re gonna stress out David Bowie.” Haha one of my favourite lines of the episode and there were many! I really love Catherine’s red outfit. She’s worn it before and it always looks great on her! There’s some great fashion in this episode. At the end of the episode Carina wears a striped top that she has worn before and it looks great on her! Jackson was being a distracting jerk at the beginning of presentations and that was really annoying. Enter the weed cookies oh dear! I love how DeLuca took a bunch so you knew right off the bat he was going to be high as a kite the whole time!

“They are lesbian gratitude cookies!” I will miss lines like these when Arizona is gone. The way she looks at Carina when she leaves to go attend to her patient says it all. She is so in love! It’s very cute. I’m happy for her. After everything she has been through she deserves happiness. I’m guessing Carina was hired on as an OBGYN and pediatric surgeon by Bailey after her research concluded? Thank goodness Jo said no to the weed cookies! As we learn later that would have been a completed disaster! At first I was glad thinking April hadn’t had any and then she did and it went from bad to hilarious in 30 seconds and it was great!

Wow a Sexual Harassment settlement. So not a light dust up. My first thought was wow you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier when Jackson asked you outright Catherine? Seriously? This is so textbook her. I don't know why Catherine does this or why Jackson keeps on believing her when he knows her to be a liar. Sigh. When the problem with the cookies was revealed I felt so bad for the new Moms! They seemed genuinely so distraught! They’ve got enough problems. Another favourite line, “We can make a better vagina!” Haha the weed kicking in with Jackson! So great! April laughing hysterically is my new favourite thing! Arizona having to parent everybody because they’re high and she’s done this before was great.

High Alex was amazing! When Bailey’s OR was revolving I couldn’t stop laughing! When Vik lied my first thought was that they should have stuck with rat poison. Oh well they call him the douchey one for a reason. When Vik returned and I realized he was about to treat a patient while high my first thought was this is why you shouldn’t lie and this can’t end well. Thank goodness Richard showed up the same day as always. Him and Meredith have the same sixth sense. You can tell they are related. When the truth came out and Vik got fired I was glad. He deserved it. I also felt bad for Parker and Qadri. Parker was busting his ass to treat Vik and Qadri was COVERED in blood! I hope she has a good dry cleaner! I would be beyond pissed if I found out I’d done all that work for a friend/colleague which could have all been avoided if he’d only told the truth. That’s the second intern down this season. Although Bellos left by choice because she got a starring role on another series it’s still a very quick par down in comparison to other seasons. At least they are getting on screen exits. The last few seasons have seen interns and residences simply disappear after a season or two or do a brief cameo and then disappear without explanation.

I liked the storyline with Meredith’s hand being damaged and Jo having to step in for her and do a solo surgery she hadn’t perform before. Although I felt bad for Meredith and her hand. And it’s the Path Pen to the rescue! I liked this connecting of storylines a lot. It was nice to see Schmitt come into his own and be there for the family. I liked seeing him and Jo worked together too especially after the whole Glasses/Sex debacle. I was SO proud of Jo when she pulled the whole thing off and Meredith showed her why she made her do it that way and make her own decisions like a true mentor. When she came to pick up a still high Alex and was super pleased with herself I was so happy. She’s worked so hard for this. She deserves it!

DeLuca curled up in the corner went for hilarious to sad really quickly. Although it must have been really fun for them to film! Then Maggie wanted to talk about cheese and Arizona wanted to talk about Carina. One thing that did really bother me, and has always bothered me about Arizona’s character, is how hypocritical and selfish her monologue was talking about Carina and Callie. This is one part of Arizona’s character I have always disliked. She’s incredibly selfish for no reason. When she was talking about Carina to Maggie she sounded a lot like how Callie sounded talking about Penny to Bailey. The fact that she follows that up with the same lie that Callie just randomly took off an stole Sofia makes her a complete hypocrite. Everyone knows that isn’t what happened, but Arizona seems to believe that if she says this lie out loud enough it will eventually become true and justify her actions. I won’t miss this part when she’s gone. I’m not sure what her Carina/Callie confusion meant or was supposed to mean. I’ll let Calzona and Arina Shippers comment on that, but to me it means that her ending on the show will see her move to New York.

When Maggie lost a virtual liver I couldn’t stop laughing! I loved the part about Bailey being a Mr. T fan! I love these little nuggets of information about Bailey they are so great! “I thought marijuana made people peaceful but I’ve never hated you more.” Bailey bringing in a classic zinger. When they cut to April and Bailey and the couch was revolving I lost it! This must have been SO fun to film! I wonder how they did that? “Beak like an owl.” Bailey is always great and she tells it like it is. Bailey talking about sex toys while April talked about Jackson’s love life and her love life was hilarious to watch. I think that Bailey is a smart business woman to do it that way and I like that Meredith’s teasing gave her the idea. I wonder who April is seeing? Is it still Koracick? Time will tell.

Arizona and Maggie draping and announcing a time of death for the virtual patient with no liver was hilarious. DeLuca’s spontaneous crying over a lost Sam? Not so much. I felt really bad for Jackson in the revel scene. In trying to be a good person he’s lost his grandfather, his father, and his mother. Jeez. The look on Meredith’s face and the throat singing was priceless! Especially since that is one of Sarah Drew’s talents that she let the writers in on at the beginning of the season according to Twitter.

When Alex answered the door I couldn’t stop laughing! It’s not funny but it is. “Would you like some chips?” One of my other favourite lines of this episode. I loved seeing Alex use his past to help Owen. His speech about giving all the craps and it making a difference really is true. It’s what makes him a great pediatric surgeon, parental figure to Meredith’s kids, and it’s going to make him a great Dad to him and Jo’s kids.

When Meredith found out the truth about Harper Avery and it ruined everything that her and her Mother had worked for I was so mad. And then we found out these 13 women, and probably more, were sexually violated, limited in their career options, and taken permanently out of the running for a Harper Avery Award I was livid! Shudder big time. I like that they evolved this storyline in a way that makes both Ellis Grey and Marie Cerone were right and Harper Avery wrong, but doesn’t make Meredith wrong. I hope Marie and Meredith can make peace now that the truth has come out.

I really loved seeing Caterina interact with the baby at the end of the episode. It felt like her as a person not Amelia and it was really cute. Melts my heart! Also Maggie helping herself to a whole cheese platter was everything. Now I want cheese. This week’s episode was really fun! Which was obviously the point and something it achieved well. Next week’s episode looks intense as usual! Although I think the promo is as usual misleading. Meredith sure as heck isn’t taking the blame for anything as none of this is her fault and it certainly isn’t Jackson’s as he was lied to the whole time. I think Catherin will end up taking the fall and Grey Sloan will end up bringing on new investors and distancing itself from the Harper Avery Foundation. That’s what I liked to see anyway. I’m excited to hear everyone else’s thoughts!

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bucky-smiles · 6 years

Text

Flowers for My Love: An Intro

This material can be triggery!! the further we get into this story it’ll uncover more and more on topics like abuse, murder, alcoholism, and assault.

It’s a shame that Eleanora Evangeline Earnshaw ended up the way she did. She has an IQ of 179 and that always set her apart from the rest of the world. Her parents, both drunkards, didn’t like that whatsoever.. They took it out on her on the worst way possible.. Mockery, beatings, forcing societal norms on the poor little girl. She didn’t have a hero to save her like so many of the stories she read after sheltering away into her room. That’s why she became her own hero.

First came her mom.. Of course the death was called an ‘accident’, the woman falling down the stairs and cracking her neck in the process. Poor woman was found by her daughter, who called 911 almost immediately in hysterics about her mommy. When the police came and went, she let out a laugh of rejoice. Had she had any friends, Eleanora would’ve thrown a party.. She’d heard of birthday parties before.. By the age of 10 she’d still never been to one.

A couple of years later, when Eleanora was 12 and getting done with high school, her father’s broken heart became to much for him.. That’s why he broke a bottle over his head. At least.. That was what the ME thought had happened. Eleanora had, once more, gotten away with murder. The pride at the thought that she was her own hero was crazy.. But of course now that she was parentless, she had to go into the system.

In the system, she met some kids just like her. Kids who knew her pain and wanted to be her friend. They’d let her ramble while they all tried to learn. They got her to come out her shell and try finding her own personality. Eleanora never once lost contact with any of them.. Not even when she was adopted.

Eleanora’s adoptive family was.. Different.. They weren’t abusive or anything of the sort.. In fact they were quite the opposite. They encouraged the weird out of Eleanora, disregarding the societal norms she’d been forced into. They let her wear whatever she wanted to school and have fun with her life.. They even, accidentally, encouraged the young girl’s lust for blood through the many hunting escapades.

The kindness that Eleanora was shown through her early adolescence changed her. While the woman had a crazy thirst for blood, she’d learned how to love her family and appreciate the lifestyle she had. Her self perseverance instinct was strong and she, beautiful. She was born into a ‘family’ of dirty alcoholics. But now she had 4 brothers, 3 sisters, and amazing parents.. All who loved her very much. She even had the kids she’d met in the system.. To say that Eleanora was loyal to them would be a massive understatement.

The bloodlust, however, never stopped.

After college and her 3rd PhD, the first one in psychology, the second in Shakespearean literature, and the third in law, she discovered that many other people in the world needed heroes. People like her who didn’t have heroes of their own to protect them. To tell them that everything was going to be alright to say that ‘Dad was just a bad person.. It isn’t your fault, honey, I swear..’

That’s when Eleanora took action. Right there at the age of 24. She took a job with child services and that’s how she found the bad ones. The ones who didn’t deserve to be given the gift of a child. She was so good that the police never noticed the pattern! The woman used a different weapon every single time, was never caught, and went through an array of forensic counter measures.. Not that the police would care.. The people that were dying at the hands of Eleanora were all nobodies that society couldn’t give a rats ass about. The society that Eleanora’s parent’s had forced Eleanora to love.

Nowadays, while she still works with child services, Eleanora has also taken up child psychology. Not because of anything else but to see if there were kids who’d grow up to be like her.. Heroes.. She’s so good at her job that often times, she’s called in as an expert in her field. Police officers, federal agents, the whole shebang. In fact, she’s recently accepted a new consult with the head team of the BAU. What she didn’t know was that this consult was going to change her life.

Not because the unsub was her..

But because this was the consult in which she would meet Spencer Reid.

There isn’t an official taglist for this yet so if you wished to be tagged let me know!! I’m just going to tag my mutuals and normal taglist. If you wish to be removed from the taglist for this fic just let me know :D

@sweater-vest-reid @all-thats-been-broken @stellarwritings @criminal-anatomy @mentallydatingspencerreid @bitchinprentiss @spencerthepipecleaner @criminal-navy-writings @fl0werb0nes18 @thematthewgraygube @unwrittenheartbreak @dontshootmespence @stunudo @jazz91121 @nealcaffreyy @lookwhatyoumademequeue @bestillmystuckyheart @tippy06 @crimindsaspe @loverosetyler @ultrarebelheart @jodiewhittakers @playlist-reid @cynbx

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds series #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfictin #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid series

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purkinje-effect · 3 years

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 63: Indivisible

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 30. Go to previous. Go to next. TW: Human experimentation talk, triage-type medical gore, various stages of undress.

Find X, knowing why.

_____________________________

‘Choly’s brains scrambled in the moment. Everything in the past few minutes had transpired in a smudge. Was he truly alone on base now with a ton of severely chem-mangled raiders? No Olivia? No leader of the Rust Devils? No Sticks? Not even a robot left standing?

Not a robot. He failed to stifle crying at the thought he didn’t even have Angel by his side.

But he couldn’t just sit there. If he couldn’t move fast enough to escape before the base self-destructed, he could find a way to disarm it. With a mental wheeze, he resigned to no other choice but to try. Maybe he could convince the base he was the General now. Maybe, just long enough to matter.

Frantic to locate a terminal, he scooted across the floor one-legged in the caster-wheeled office chair. The nearest was mounted in the wall beside the doors to Wing II. He checked that the decryption holotape was still in his Pip-Boy, but couldn’t make sense which of two key-prong ports to connect to. There was a chance each only did something specific, but they weren’t labeled. He didn’t remember terminals ever really having two.

He hemmed trying to guess which one was right, struggling to keep even a firm grip on the key-prong with the hand of his broken arm. A hand came up from behind him and grabbed his left wrist until he let go of the key-prong in a reflexive wince. The woman shoved him aside by a few feet, and he barely kept from toppling out of the chair. With a Pip-Boy on each arm, she unfurled both key-prongs and plugged them into the terminal simultaneously.

After having grown accustomed to her ghoulification, it took some time before he could grasp he was staring at Olivia Francis, standing before him completely human again, wearing the raider’s leather jacket and nothing else, navigating the SCRAM protocols with effortless intensity. She exuded an everything-ness that he couldn’t quantify, a SPECIAL quality which captivated and terrified in the same measure.

The sirens powered down. She unplugged with a huff, and walked back over to the various scraps of clothes in the floor in the hopes a pair of pants survived. Fed up boredom laced her rich voice.

“Not that I think you could right now, Carey, but don’t move.”

She’s not dead. She looks human again. He fidgeted dumbly with the hem of his coat. Hm. His thumb smeared away blood. It didn’t soak in. Comes right off. He tried to do the same of the leg of his Vault Suit, but it didn’t budge.

He frowned.

Eventually he glanced up.

“That voice... That was her Eyebots out there...” He pointed at the Power Armor, for lack of a raider leader to reference.

“I really made a stellar choice, to put you in charge of my enlisted today, didn’t I?” She patted him on the shoulder, exhaustion on her heavy lids. She dropped an Addictol in his lap, with the insistence in her posture that he use it. “Sharp as a marble. Sober the fuck up, soldier.”

“Biometrics recalibrated for: General Olivia Francis,” the terminal announced. “Welcome back, General.”

“Couldn’t have you staging a coup, now, could we?” she deadpanned.

Drawing in the lungful of medication stung less for its effect and more for the strain on his broken ribs.

“I swear I don’t want to be General--” he stuttered, hasty to exhale the salty medication just to get the words out. His head spun, the faster he tried to talk. “I only took your place while you were--”

“--You took me for dead, but I appreciate you lying through your teeth. Now as for your accomplice...” She motioned to Angel returning, dragging a half-naked Sticks. “Ugh.” With displeasure, she input a few commands into her Pip-Boy. “I must get that Klutz pitch disabled before you men get any more indecent.”

“Angel! Oh thank god. Why--”

“--I couldn’t leave Mister Hawthorne unattended on premises, Colonel Carey!” it replied a little too spryly.

It demonstrated the enthusiasm of following orders. ‘Choly swallowed. Had Olivia always had the ability to hack and control Angel? At least while it operated on base? What timing, that the command had kicked in right when Angel would have opened fire on the Rust Devils’ leader.

“I’m disappointed in you, Hawthorne. Not surprised, but certainly disappointed. I expected you to have your fingers in more than one pot, but you had your mitts on everybody’s business.” She didn’t even bother with the body language to care about the captive ghoul, while she scrounged for whiskey in one of the desks. She drank directly from the bottle.

Angel tightened its grip on Sticks when he wouldn’t stop wriggling. He tried to slip out of his Nostrus glove to get a limb free, but Angel caught onto the attempt and changed its grip on him.

“And I mean everybody’s. Keep your enemies closer, and all that. Isn’t that right?You want to lose that other hand, too, don’t you? You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t share this one, gentlemen.”

Angel pulled Sticks closer to ‘Choly so it could provide triage. He had to right the dislocations in his right hand and wrist first. From there he did his best to reset joints and line up bone in his left elbow, powering through the searing pain of actually having to go by feel. Angel administered a Stimpak directly into it.

Sticks squinted at her in a stupor, visibly agitated ‘Choly wasn’t helping him get loose.

“You... aren’t a ghoul.”

“Oh, two marbles!” she exclaimed, clapping distastefully. Her sarcasm slowly boiled into a snarl. “It’s shaping up to be a regular game of it. And to think I’d lost ‘em all. All right, so I haven’t been completely honest about the state of things around here. There’s certain things that operate like a lady’s age and weight. You just don’t ask about it! But you two have had your secrets, too. Let’s lay out some honesty. So tell me, Sticks. How far out did you plan this whole con? Weeks? Months? Hmm? Are you the one who coaxed Laverne back up here a goddamn year ago!?”

‘Choly looked between her and Sticks as she waved between the two of them. He shook his head of the suggestion of collusion.

“Oh, don’t look so wild, Carey. I know he didn’t give a rat’s ass if I made it out of this SNAFU alive, as long as he made sure you did. It’s why he fired the fucking flare directly onto base.”

“The Devils were already on base,” Sticks reasoned, sweating. “They were already rounded up. Like fish in a barrel, Gen.”

She sat on the desk, and took another belt of whiskey before capping it and mellowing into a bitter, mocking monologue.

“So it was, so it was. Let me guess how the rest of it went. You cut a deal with every single party at the table, and saw your opportunity to get every reward you’d invested in. Instead of walking away with one prize, you could have it all. Laverne promised to restore the Pip-Boy functions in your hand if you helped her infiltrate Deenwood. I promised you more chem stock if you got the Furriers to agree to play sheepdog for me. The Furriers promised to give you your hand back, after what happened in 2124. Well, that doesn’t seem to have panned out. And Carey... Carey, you promised to play kitchen chemist for him if either of you managed to net any of Deenwood’s classified chemistry data, didn’t you?”

‘Choly couldn’t argue, bright red ear to ear. Angel urged him instead to focus on mending his leg. For a moment, his mortification superseded the pain of realigning the snapped head of his split tibia under his kneecap. Angel’s last Stimpak only helped dull the sensation enough to keep him from yelling.

“The toast we did before you left this morning. I had to feel out how well Sticks had you under his thumb. I knew he’d assume a cocktail from me would have some lingering benefits, so I ‘garnished’ each of them. Not only did he drink yours, he drank his, too. He wanted you to think he saved you from getting poisoned, deranged, or feeble--but what he really wanted was a guarantee, from doubled effects, that he could bend you into the pretzel of his whims. It might’ve caught him off guard that I’d added Magnetizer rather than Day Tripper, but it suited him all the better in playing you today. And the whole dance certainly got your tongue running on exactly everything he’d already fed you, that you’d assumed was point blank fact.” She looked to Sticks again, far more exhausted with him than the chemist. “You were tired of having to deal with me, every time you needed more premium chems to push. And you didn’t want to risk Laverne offing you after she got what she wanted. Really, I should’ve known you’d already warned the Devils about Rad-I-Canned when they waited so long to stage their full attack on Deenwood. But they didn’t expect you to be the smoking flare gun, did they?”

She laughed, trying not to cry. With a snivel she got up and stooped to retrieve the six-ampuole hexagonal inhaler.

“And you didn’t expect me to use X-Seed to rub out my ex when she broke my wife in half. She sure as fuck didn’t!”

“Then the Devils didn’t just want Deenwood’s robots,” ‘Choly uttered. “Their leader... wanted you...?”

She tossed down the empty inhaler to be refilled at a later point, and started pacing.

“The three of us. She, Helen, and I. We had chemistry. But she got to where she hated me, for everything I wasn’t and couldn’t be. She resented Helen even more. --God, if I can’t restore her. I don’t know what I’ll do. She’s been with me so long.” She shuffled over to Sticks, and grabbed him by the jaw. “If I can’t, her head rests squarely on you. Did you calculate for that, entrepreneur?”

“I’m not the ass who ripped off her head with power armor,” the ghoul snapped, starting to shake. “Technically speaking, that’d be your doing. Wouldn’t it.”

“You’re not in a position to get cute with me.”

She slapped him. She sighed and glanced to ‘Choly, then strolled around from terminal to terminal, initiating print orders. She began collecting things and humming a bit between her commentary. Some of what she gathered included holotapes.

“My sexual involvement with robotics isn’t perverse in the slightest, I’ll have you know. It’s out of necessity.” She sniffed. “X-Seed flesh can’t subsume metal and plastics. We were deeply, romantically embroiled, at that. Helen was... will be perfect again.”

“And ‘X-Squared flesh’?” He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by it, but the very thought of it invoked a nebulous dread sentence.

“I figured you’d take the dose I gave you. I told the truth about that one. There’s no withdrawals. If you’re suffering from something after taking it, it’s not the squared. It’s whatever those Vault-Tec loonies did to you. Sticks, on the other hand? Your luck was particularly shit this go-around, hmm? You didn’t count on your Root to stick this time.”

She gathered up various stacks of the continuous feed stock she’d been accumulating, into a printout binder.

“Caught up in the euphoria of the X-Seed, I’m feeling both generous and accomplished. I’m going to let you escape with all your fingers and toes. After today, I don’t want to see either of your faces ever again. Do you understand me? But before I turn you loose again, I have to ask you, Carey: Did you get lucky? Could you put your hands on leftover Psycho when you killed those raiders, or did you have to cook up your own with two hundred year old morphine?”

His face drooped, a little too literally.

“Hubflower can be reduced into a new form of Gregory’s salts.”

She brightened a tic.

“I was hoping you’d teach me something before you left.” She approached ‘Choly and set the hefty pair of binders in his lap. “The MKEXCEED papers. The formulas for X-Cell-Root and X-Cell-Squared are here, along with a number of other things I’m sure you wanted. You’ll need to get versed in the precursors for Root in particular. If this is what it takes to get rid of Sticks once and for all, it’s not worth my time! I’m washing my hands of him. He’s all yours, Carey. I can’t think of a worse fate for him. Consider it a thank you, though. For giving Olivia and I exactly what we wanted. This is still my base. They’re still my enlisted. And in a way, we’ve still got each other. Who knows. Maybe I’ll reinstall Helen’s AI into a Sentry Bot this time. She’s had stranger bodies.”

She rubbed at her full head of hair, giving Helen’s next form genuine thought for some time before slouching and pacing more.

“This is a soaking lot of chaos. I haven’t had enlisted on base in a hundred eighty years. My head’s pounding for them all. Now, you two need to leave. Before I change my mind that you can.”

Angel mechanically hoisted up ‘Choly with two tendrils, keeping the third on Sticks’s right arm. ‘Choly stuffed the papers into Angel’s storage, in disbelief that it got in his hands so soon and with so little resistance once it came down to it. In the moment, he didn’t even care whether the binders contained blank paper and junk holotapes: they symbolized her letting them go free. On their way out, ‘Choly used one hand to stretch his face to jeer at her, not even really considering in the impulse that it might stay that way.

By the time he let go, he was very, very grateful she hadn’t seen it.

On their way to the North gate, Olivia came on the loudspeaker, to address her soldiers. While they’re walking, they saw that the Rad-I-Canned shell would have been fired from the mortars of a Deenwood Sentry Bot, but since origin and target had matched, the shell detonated in situ and destroyed the Sentry. She’d already sent a few Unfolded to work on disabling the Klutz whistle.

“Welcome back to base, soldiers. Going forward today, you will no longer require the services of Sticks to obtain what is rightfully yours as descendants of Deenwood’s enlisted. It was wrong of me to require you to broker with this manipulative cretin. I will no longer be doing business with him, I promise you. Our first order of business is to rebuild after our little crisis of identity. I know tonight took a lot out of everyone. Help yourselves to as many MREs as you like tonight. You’ve earned it. We will regroup at oh six hundred. We keep military hours. Makes the robots happy, so it makes me happy. Habits die hard.”

“They... ruined a golf course and a military base for this.”

‘Choly frowned at a loss. It was soaking in that Sticks’s stunt cost him all the prewar amenities of the Deenwood Compound, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but blame himself all the more for being such a patsy.

A battered, one-tendriled Gutsy sprinted up to them with a parcel.

“Madam General says you two are indecent. I’ve been sent along with fresh laundered uniforms. For you, Colonel Carey, and for you, Private Sticks.”

Its gruff, holographic voice ground the title like it didn’t even want to say that much. Angel received the uniforms when the two men sputtered over the remark.

“Apologies that we can’t stay longer,” it started, to keep them all moving. “I’ll miss you!”

“You’re the one heart of gold in that bunch, DIA Angel,” it called off after it.

“Well I suppose she’ll just have to find herself another SFC!” Sticks rang out with sarcastic indignity, like it was some mark of distinction.

“God, consider yourself lucky she didn’t court-martial you,” ‘Choly jabbed, unsure whether his enlisted rank was in seriousness.

Bozhemoy, either ply her, or avoid her altogether, is right...

‘Choly had so many things to say to Sticks, but in the sunrise twilight, the words simply wouldn’t come. He didn’t have the mental acuity to argue or make accusations, and only barely had the physical constitution to focus on balancing jockey-style atop Angel. Sticks was too tired to make conversation, either, fortunately. Once they’d turned down the straight shot North to Rourke Bridge, Angel let him go, and they walked onward in relative silence, stuffed up in the claustrophobic ambiance of the Merrimack echoing through the Highlands ruins.

Once they got inside Glenn Johnny’s, Sticks carried ‘Choly upstairs on his back, and Angel powered off its thruster downstairs for the first time in forever. The two stripped and slumped into bed in their underwear, too battered to care about their relative filth.

‘Choly permitted Sticks to spoon him, but mostly to share body heat.

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#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #fo4 #sole survivor #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #sticks #angel #olivia francis #ghoul oc

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