#pity he got dubbed though...

[wirwerdensiegen]

Gong Jun as Dongfang Yuechu in the upcoming Fox Spirit Matchmaker: Red-Moon Pact.

[getodrools]

warnings. yan! true form sukuna, implied non/dub con: ( forced marriage and pregnancy ), kidnapping.

All of them looked at you.

You recognized those faces. And you tried to hide from them behind the mighty stature built of an abundance of muscles and cursed energy…

But, all of those familiar faces contorted differently, some not knowing how to react; some gaped wide as others felt pity when you were shoved in front of the king by those large hands you grew to loathe.

That cruel and selfish thing held a wide wry smirk as your body — so frail, yet heavy with a large bump wobbled embarrassingly and tired ahead… You couldn't bear to lift your crown to confront them, too mortified. Yet, they couldn't see that attempt, you only looked too weak to try in their eyes…

You felt it in your heart, deep down they had a sense — they knew what was going to happen soon as he left with you.

As much as they forever wished for your safety and honored your valor of vengeance, carrying on your name as the savior when Sukuna swore he'd seize havoc if he got what he wanted — to marry you and earn an heir, he'd settle with leaving all merciful. Leaving behind the chaos he caused and settling far from their territory with the only promise of you.

You remember that very doomsday when he held you with two bloodstained arms — blood of your own comrades who fought with all their might… weak legs dangling in the smokey air as flames erupted from buildings and screams begrudged through the entire city, you remember scraping at the tough skin, seemingly unbreakable, but in hopes he'd release you, you tried unduly before you could end up with no head… But fighting with the last of your might, you swear to this day you could still feel that very cruel squeeze to your sides as he stalked the others with ease, cursing a promise out you had never expected to hear, truthfully.

Almost all warfare seized. They all looked just as disgusted as they do now, just how they were watching the way you shivered when Sukuna’s leather-like tongue lapped over your neck to the whole side of your face as he panted out those very words you toss and turn from every night,

“Take too long to give an answer, I’ll kill another. Or, I will set ablaze to everyone if you don't.”

There was no winning.

Leaving with you far beyond the horizon and years to come, the people you once called family and friends were never to be seen again.

Sukuna wasn't as surprised as they were once they found his concealed empire plagued with cursed energy. He didn't even care, he already got what he wanted and they couldn't do a single thing about it. They knew that very well too.

Especially seeing how you lived now.

They tried to prepare themselves though, knowing his ruthless acts were to be brought upon you once you agreed — you didn't need to, but for the sake of countless lives and for the ones you cherished, you sacrificed yourself, a single life, to him without thought, and now you harbor a dreadful wedlock and bear a child.

Yuji’s face was the worst. He felt disgust and outrage – you poor thing. He couldn't imagine what you've gone through, especially now as you carried a half-being inside of you. Something mixed with the King of curses genes brewing into something undoubtedly revolting, something he couldn't conjecture how you had to submit to such monstrosity to get this far…

Megumi steps back, “Y/n…” You flinch. You haven't heard your name in years, only the title of being Sukuna’s wife dug a deep scar into the tissue of your brain.

Even the other members flinch.

But now, they had their eyes on you for long enough and Sukuna grabs your shoulder to reer you behind him again, right where you belonged.

“Interesting seeing you all.” The king stood tall; a pair of strong arms crossed over his chest as the others waved around smugly.

They knew his strength and didn't want to erase all the disarray you've went through to save them once, so they stepped back, cursing themselves as they did. Crossing boundaries they never thought they'd see, Sukuna knew it would be idiotic for them to waste your life if they dared to overstep it.

They couldn't do that to you.

Waving them off, “She's expected soon,” Ryōmen smacks his lips, keeping his chin up high and all eyes low as if he wasn't already towering over them, “Once that's out, she’ll be busy on the next – as promised.” You shiver, huddling behind the only thing you grew to get used to — so to speak, forced to.

Clinging to his side, you barely peek through his arms to catch their faces once again, but oh, how much you've missed them… Too repentant, weary eyes only tremble at the floor they creaked on, and the further they got, the longing to run alongside them and to be free worsened…

You squeeze your belly.

Shoving your ridden face into his naked back as your husband continued threatening them with your life, you remind yourself this was worth saving them… even if…

… You still needed to give him five more.

PINNED ・ JJK MASTERLIST ・ RYŌMEN SUKUNA

[lovegasmic]

MY STRANGE ADDICTION

──── . curse!toji fushiguro + sorcerer fem!reader  

 𝜗𝜚 mdni◞ slight dub con just at the beginning ◞ handcuffed sex◞ breeding kink◞ mild pussy slapping ◞ name calling : slut ◞ petnames: princess, angel , good girl. rewritten and reposted . ★ taglist

“I will be alright”

you had grinned at Nanami that one afternoon, his usual calm face held a slightly concerned look, surprisingly still present on even though you were already miles away from where goodbyes were exchanged.

“it's a low rank curse, it should be fine”

but it really wasn’t.

the report mentioned some passersby’s warning over a strange metal clanking sound in a nearby abandoned building, —nothing out of the ordinary really, adding to the faint, almost imperceptible cursed energy found in the surroundings everyone agreed it was some low rank curse doings.

yet an eerie feeling was palpable left and right, coldness digging deep into your bones and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

much against your initial perception, the curse didn’t attack, and instead, it cornered you into a windowless floor, much obviously the building was still on construction due to it’s bare walls and floors where it hid in the dark, like a predator hunting its prey, and much to your disadvantage, you were the latter.

the rapid and loud thumping of your heart rang in your ears, slightly muffling the startling voice the curse held, although you didn’t expect for it’s first words to be “you’re way too pretty to be a sorcerer”

“huh?!” jaw slack —from what it seemed— he, chuckled at your body’s automatic response, feeling your stomach drop at the deep and manly voice resonating through the walls and hallways.

you swallow hard “what the fuck does that mean?”

the curse laughed again, shifting in his place to take a step, two steps closer to the moonlight light coming from the wall opening and reflecting on the floor, one that barely got to show a portion of his shadow.

“what i’m saying is...” the voice came from your back, startling you enough to steal a gasp before it moved again, “...I would hate for a pretty thing like you to get killed so easily”

“if someone is dying today, that's you” you spoke, fake confidence helping you cope with what could possibly be your imminent death. this curse wasn’t one to mess with, you were certain.

“hm?” he smirks, “why don’t we test that out?” he whispers in your ear, and a second later, you’re on the floor, not giving you time to react to the inhuman speed the curse possessed, will definitely sport a couple of bruises later on from the hit and a makeshift handcuff that held onto your wrist, it’s coldness and weight reminding you of metallic chains.

“let me go” you grit, and much to your disgust, your mouth going dry the moment the curse got into the light didn’t help, hating to admit a slight throb in your pussy —and shoulders, due to the awkward position, laying barely propped up by your elbows.

he was terribly hot, dark tight shirt clinging on his broad chest and disappearing underneath gray joggers that only fueled your dirty thoughts.

“stop squirming, you have nowhere to go right now” his laugh echoes as loud as his shoes click right before your pity form, coming to your height dark pupils, almost fully engulfing the color of his irises and matching messy hair falling on them.

you had to earn time, strike a stupid conversation or anything that could win you some time until anyone came to your rescue after noticing the long absence, but the man smirked down at you in such a mischievous way you couldn’t help and try to push on his chest, screaming internally when the tall wall of muscle didn’t even budge, and instead, wrapped his fingers around your ankle.

“don’t touch me!” you half shout, both at the surprise of his movements, and the slight shiver engulfing your body from the calloused fingertips coming in contact with the bare skin right here your pants raised.

there’s a tsk coming from his lips right before sliding his huge hand across your leg, slowly enough for you to stop him, yet your body remained still, frozen against the cold marble floor.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

he whispers in your ear, leaning close enough into your ear until nothing but a breeze could separate his lips from your skin.

“fuck you” you hiss, empty words not matching the way you pliantly let the man, curse, touch you, both hands resting on your thighs, your waist, snaking a single thumb across the side of your covered breasts that rise and fall with each harsh breathing.

“that’s what I plan on doing”

for the second time in the night, your head fogs at the sudden movement, knees landing roughly on the floor with a pained gasp as you stare into the wall, your back arched in a very, suggestive way towards the man.

“i bet you’re fucking wet” he chuckles, “what a slut, in this situation, really?, do you not get fucked well enough?”

lips part to talk back, anger and embarrassment burning on your face, but the fact was undeniable, now obvious to him since his rough fingertips came in contact with the crotch of your elastic pants, rubbing across your slit through the fabric, rough enough for your growing wetness to seep towards the exterior.

“fuck— naughty girl” he is very much enjoying this, palming his already hard cock through the loose fabric of his own pants. “gonna take care of you, princess, fuck you nice and good til’ that pretty head of yours goes dumb”

it’s involuntary the moan that escapes your lips, suddenly losing balance until your cheek is pressed against the cold floor. a lewd sight of your willing body all pliant for him.

“name’s Toji” he huffs, leaving a single sharp slap on your ass before shredding the cloth down along your drenched panties, enough for his thighs to come between yours and stretch them, leaving your pussy to his lustful gaze, “remember the name you’ll be screaming tonight”

the curse, or now, Toji’s words are remarked with a couple soft slaps on your throbbing clit with the tip of his cock, making your thighs twitch and whimpers escape at the sensation and disgustingly nasty sound of creamy wetness sticking.

he’s big. incredibly big and stretching you so well your breath comes out unsteady and erratic, nails digging against your own palms as to conceal the pleasure you’re currently feeling, something no one has ever made you feel before.

“T-toji...” you whine for the first time, deep down loving how his name felt on your lips.

“that’s right” he grunts, slowly but steadily feeding your cunt the rest of his fat cock, his own breathing coming in stuttered huffs with how tight you felt, “you’re squeezing me so fuckin’ much, you just needed a fat cock to satisfy you, isn’t that right, angel?”

“ha— ngh!” you sob, toes curling in your shoes when his heavy balls kiss your clit, and then he’s fucking you with abandon, holding onto one of your shoulders to pull your upper body up, forcing you to meet his thrusts that almost knock the air out of your lungs.

“good fuckin’ girl” Toji’s laugh resonates through the empty concrete floor, mingling alongside the wet sound your slapping flesh, it’s dark and dangerous, but still makes your cunt flutter, “do you like how I ruin your unprotected human pussy?”

for a second, your eyes cross, brain shuts and opts not to reply, deciding to keep at least a bit of dignity instead of babbling a cockdrunken nonsense that would have seeped out due to Toji’s cock continuously slamming against your sweet spot, forcing waves of slick to drool out of your slit and stain your thighs and floor, mixed with the creamy precum coating your sensitive walls.

“answer me, darling” a rough hand comes to cup your jaw, forcing your head up until his lips ghost over the skin of your cheek, hips rutting into your slit and forcing his length a bit deeper into your abused pussy.

"y-yes!, feels so good" you stutter, eyes rolled back and hair clinging to every corner of your forehead, unaware of the movement of your own hips in an attempt to fuck yourself back on him.

“good girl” Toji leaves a single chaste kiss on your cheek, taking his previous position, although this time he forces your waist to arch deeper, almost mounting you before resuming his thrusts, “gonna show you how I breed pretty girls like you”

you whimper his name in approval, completely gone while letting him use you, positively drooling onto the floor and making a mess like he’s doing with your cunt.

with a choked out sob, you cream all over his length, shaking and crying while clinging to the chains around your wrists, yet he didn’t stop, fucking the white ring of cum back into your drenched pussy.

he’s forcing your ass cheeks open, aiming for your cervix before filling your hole with thick cum that comes out with a grunt and a groan, hips rolling, grinding and forcing you to milk that load out of his tip.

you know for a fact, that after that night, you became utterly ruined for any other man. since no one could ever fuck you like the curse you were supposed to exorcise.

he leaves a sharp slap on your overflowing pussy, loud and wet enough for your mixed fluids to splatter, right on time before hearing footsteps on the first floor of the building, —perhaps your reinforcements that might take a while to reach the high floor you were currently at. and then he’s quick on his feet, untangling your bound hands while chuckling at the yelp and beautiful sight of his cum oozing from your hole.

“if you want another load, you know where to find me”

[sillygoosealert]

Daisy, hi! How did you come up with the user sillygoodealert? Bc that concubine fic had such a silly ending 🥲🙂 lmao jk but seriously I was thinking what if before the maid concubine reader offs herself, we see her side of being treated like shit by the other girls and staff and sukuna himself during the day and then trying to not be shell shocked when he treats her so sweetly in his chambers. especially when he continuously humiliates her and one day eve punishes her extra harshly in front of everyone after she makes a mistake and then he still expects her to pretend as if it didn’t even happen when he wishes to spend time with her that same night.

Who knows just thinking further about the story you created, ty for sharing your work it’s so delish 🤤

In the morning - Just a week later

That's my legal name because i am the mayor of silly town

I had a BAD day so ANGST NO COMFORT NO COMFORT 😠😠

Dub-con(so there is a little bit of smut 😲) he's kinda abusive?? uhhh mention of blood

If someone asked Sukuna if he was ever satisfied with everything he had, the answer would be no. But once, he got very close to it.

To be satisfied is to settle, and Sukuna never settled. Not for anything or anyone. However, one night, while you laid next to him, it almost felt like he would be okay with living like that.

Knowing he could have more than what he had at the time stopped him from deeming it satisfactory.

So he strived for more. A more significant and fulfilling feeling, more.

What waited for him in the morning was a clean room and a cold bed. Although you were supposed to be beside him as of now, there was a cold, neatly made spot in replacement.

After 8 minutes of stretching, 2 minutes of sitting and silence, and deciding what kimono he would like to adorn today- he came out of his enclosure.

Standing just a few feet from his door, you were unhurriedly dusting off the chandeliers scattered across the ceiling- on a ladder, without anyone supporting it from the bottom.

After a few quick strides, he kicks the ladder from its place. There isn't a real reason why he did it. It was more impulsive than anything. But as he watches your body hit the floor, blood dribble out of your nose, a feeling of superiority overcomes him.

Even though he was the one to do this to you, he still helps you up and carries you to bed in his arms. Your blood is smearing across his arms and hands as he wipes away tears that come out as you shake and beg for him to stop. It's no longer a quiet morning, but he got what he wanted- a warmer bed and a more obedient woman.

Nothing good comes out of upsetting Sukuna- or sometimes just being around him. He doesn't have to be in a bad mood to take things out on you. The bruises on your body should be enough evidence of that. Sometimes, you question if it's enough to feel pity on you, though.

There will always be someone to ask what you did. Occasionally, that someone is you. Late at night, curled up listening to him treating another woman with something similar to adoration.

His voice isn't necessarily loud, but it's the only thing you can hear when it is well past curfew.

He coos encouragement and praise while gentle skin-on-skin can be heard if you listen for it.

At the moment, you're jealous. That should be you. When that is you, though, you dread walking into his enclosure.

The day after you watched him toss away any love or respect he had, for 15 minutes of sugar-coated sex, something changed with him.

He held your waist as he guided you to the edge of his bed, an eager grin plastered on his face. Lifting you and laying you on the one-too-many pillows he suddenly had.

One hand found yours as something wet licked your pussy. It was slimy and unwanted, and you kept quiet because you were in complete shock.

You saw how clean the sheets were when you walked in. You hoped it was a sick coincidence. But the feeling of Déjà vu sank deep into your body, as well as his tongue did. And as you checked to make sure- the pillows were fluffed up. The smell of a specific woody soap was stuck to him, and he was gripping your hand a little harder each time your breath started to increase.

"My Lord-" You wanted to ask him to stop, but the words couldn't come out as fluently as your tears would.

When you started to sob, he pulled away and looked at you with disarray. All you could do was shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself.

He sent you back to your own room without a word.

The other concubines must have noticed the shift in your status- or maybe he complained to them about you. That is one of life's great mysteries.

They treat you noticeably differently than they did before- for the worse. A thought that crosses through your mind is they were scared to be anything less than indifferent to you before, for they would most definitely receive a punishment. But now? The treatment of your counterparts and the King of Curses is almost equal- with him being the only one to break your trust, as the other concubines made it clear they were not your friends from the start.

As of now, they weren't afraid to push you aside in the hallways or scold you for nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor.

Your new nickname is Lummox- which means a clumsy, stupid person. That's not too far off from what you are, so you don't take too much offense.

But people now use it to call out to you and grab your attention it becomes all you can use to describe yourself when you think about what you did to get here.

Even now, as you curl into yourself late in the night, what keeps you up is what will now wait for you in the morning.

I have such a massive hatetrid for my own writting it's almost astonishing I put anything out. I can't re-read anything I put out because I get so upset that I can not put into words how I feel- the one thing people expect of me.

Tag List- @mangiswig @rubyrubyruuu @maskedpacific @bbysnw @belluuu @cindywasneverhere @uniquenicefangirl @m0rganit3 @jinniebby2 @babyblexu @connierk690 @suguru-nugget @geniejunn @astro-stars @honeybee54321

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: you move into wayne manor, but not everything is as it seems. pt.2

warnings: smut, some non-con/dub-con but not really, doggystyle!, creampies ♡, mentioned babytrapper!bruce but nothing happens (or does it 🫣?), some anal play but also not really, unprotected sex, descriptions of male and female genitalia, bruce is not the best father unfortunately, age gaps, uses of the word(s) 'baby' and 'daddy' like once or twice, non-consensual recording?, reader is described as dating girls in the past.

a/n: i guess this is a small continuation. i'll still be tagging as yandere due to some slightly darker undertones kinda. i'm not sure how i feel about this one but oh well :).

bruce never believed that he was a good man.

he could care less for all the praise he received throughout the years. fundraisers and charities, his image as a loving adoptive dad who took in struggling and orphaned children, or as batman. deep down, he knew he was selfish.

everything he did, he took too far. whether it was to fulfill a pipedream he realistically knew would never come true at the expense of others. or even with love, using the people he cared for the most just so he could gain something out of it. he considered himself lucky that all the little vigilantes he collected over the years stayed. and he was even happier you decided to stay as well.

bruce knew fear like the back of his hand. he could easily recognize it in your eyes whenever your eyes met his. whether it was subconscious or not, something in you knew that you should be cautious around him, and for good reason.

he couldn't quite pinpoint when his infatuation with you started. the only thing he knew was that it had crept up on him slowly, and it had been far too late until he realized its claws were sunk deep and he wanted you wrapped around his finger.

his mind would drift off sometimes, wondering if it's because of how closely he's been able to keep tabs on you over the past couple of years. you were strong and independent, more than able to take care of yourself, and others if given the opportunity. he admired that you were bold and selfless, driven. and he wanted to control that.

he stood by on the sidelines for far too long, watching you be strung along like an afterthought. he hated seeing your pathetic dates that always turned out horribly, pitiful men who only wanted one thing from you and girls that led you on because they were 'experimenting'. he hated the sad puppy look in your eyes whenever you hung around dick, before he invited you into his family, even if it was unintentional.

whether you believed it or not, bruce truly wanted what he thought was best for you. and if that meant keeping you under his surveillance, where you were at arms length 24/7, then so be it.

bruce wanted to train you how to be obedient for him. you were already establishing your own place in his household, practically marking your territory there, and he enjoyed every bit of it. for the most part, at least. there were still some challenges he needed to overcome, but you'd always been a good girl for him. that much he knew.

you tried to be grateful for him as much as possible.

even after his creepy behavior and even weirder training, you wanted to trust him. it felt wrong not to. everyone had been kind and did more for you than anyone else in your life had, and bruce set the foundation for all of it. you'd finally got a taste of being part of his family like you always wanted, and you weren't willing to let it go just because of eccentric assumptions and silly feelings.

you did find all of it a bit extreme, though. the excessive amount of gifts, the kids were attentive as ever, and alfred practically babied you. but it was normal. completely normal. at least that's what you chalked it up to, living under the roof of a well renowned billionaire, and you weren't about to complain about it either.

being around all the other wards put you at ease. regardless if you truly saw them as found family or not, you considered them your best friends. whether it was helping alfred around the manor as much as possible, burning pastries in the kitchen with the girls, playing video games with jason (which grew to be one of your favorite pastimes), you found yourself letting your guard down. like you could finally breathe and be safe in your own home, which was basically never while you were still surviving on your own back in gotham.

speaking of jason, you think maybe you are beginning to like the boy. sure, he had always been attractive, but you never actually got to interact with him longer than a short conversation here and there before dick decided to butt in. he had always been protective of you like that. you figured whatever you felt for jason might've been weird at first, but considering tim and stephanie dated for a little while, and they were still here, that it was okay.

you tried to subtly spend more time around jason. sitting close by during dinner or while catching a flick, offering to be by his side during patrol. maybe you were a bit more obvious than you would've liked, but jason took it well, much to bruce's disdain. the boy started to talk to you more often, more lively around you than ever, staring at you from across the room, making physical contact. and you greedily accepted it.

and of course dick would be the first to pester at you about it. he'd snuck up from behind, startling you when you were too engrossed in a romance book that you'd discovered while exploring the ginormous library.

"so you and jason are a thing now?"

the sound of his sudden voice makes your body jolt, damn near dropping the precious book you were reading that probably cost more than your entire life. the only people in this world that could make you flustered the way you are now are all living underneath the same goddamn roof, and you've successfully trapped yourself in it, willingly.

"what're you talking about?" the blank look on dick's face makes you cringe. in all your years of friendship, the two of you never really fought. the thought that he'd be mad about you being with jason was almost enough to make your heart sink. but the truth was, you weren't really actually with him anyway. things were just.. different.

all of his rigorous training with bruce had apparently worked off, because almost right on cue, dick notices how anxious you are right now. he shifts his body language to a more lighthearted demeanor, no longer as stiff. his voice is soft. "listen, i don't care, kind of, but.. just be careful." the way he says it almost makes you feel better, like he cares, and of course he does, but—

"what's that supposed to mean?"

your defensiveness is no surprise to dick. the look on his face let's you know he expects it, and you almost hate yourself for being so predictable.

"i don't want you to get hurt, that's all i'm saying." he tries to reassure, but it does nothing but the opposite. hurt you? you never expected much to come out of your tiny fondness for jason, and even if it did, you knew better than to think it'd be something that'll last forever. "I won't get hurt."

you say it like it's a sure thing. there's this unreadable look in dick's eyes. something that you don't think you've ever seen before, and it almost scares you. like he knows something you don't, but you can't tell what the hell it is. he curtly nods, forcing back that charming smile to his face, but you're no idiot, especially when it comes to him.

"i don't doubt it." and with that, he's gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

it's been a couple of days since your little talk with dick. well, more of a warning than anything, so that's what you take it as. you started being more mindful, not just around jason but everyone. more observant and aware of how you interacted with them. and after a while, you deduced that whatever dick was thinking is just part of his overprotective nature, both as a brother and as a friend. that he'd grow accustomed to you and jason just like everyone else was.

that was up until you noticed your possessions were starting to go missing. it started with just panties, then a bra or two, eventually your sweaters or jewelry. at first, you thought you were going crazy, just misplacing and losing things, but it was happening way too often. bruce spoiled you enough so that everything was replaceable, but still. was dick right?

was jason some sort of pervert or stalker?

well, you think all of them had the stalking part down, getting it from bruce, but you aren't completely oblivious to the fact that jason harbored reciprocated feelings for you. but to go as far as stealing your stuff? even dirty panties? there's no way. it couldn't be. if it was true, you were daring enough to confront him about it. you'd just have to wait for the right time to do it, but that proved more than difficult. there seemed to never be a perfect moment.

bruce had been more rough than before during sparring. and honestly, you didn't mind. at first, it scared you. but with the emotional turmoil you were suddenly experiencing, you almost liked it. those damn hands in your hair, a tight headlock cause his bicep was wrapped around your neck, a muscular thigh between your legs. it felt better than you would ever admit, and you found yourself almost looking forward to it. it was just because you needed some stress relief, right?

bruce intimidated you more than anyone you've ever met, but that didn't stop you from checking him out occasionally. the older man was more than attractive, and no one could deny that, not even you, regardless if you thought he was a bit peculiar.

if you hadn't been so enamored in your thoughts, trying to convince yourself that you weren't just another perv, maybe you would've felt bruce's growing hard-on accidentally poke your ass. or that he's held you in this same position for too long, admiring how you looked bent over for him like this and wanting nothing more but to make you take him right then and there. but he was upset with you.

you were getting too close to jason. on a fatherly note, he knows he should be happy. jason always had trouble around others, and he was probably just another reason for you to stay. but a larger part of him wanted to spank your ass over his knee, gag your tiny mouth on his cock in front of everyone so they knew who you belonged to.

he has to be more careful. he'd barely gotten ahold of you, and if he pushed too much, he'd run the risk of you trying to escape. but he couldn't bear to just stand by and watch while you and jason tried to pursue a relationship. no.. that couldn't happen. jason would have a knife at his throat if he caught bruce just now, that he'd hate him even more if he found out that the girl he was crushing on was being lusted on by his father figure.

but bruce could live with that.

that's why he doesn't say anything when he gently bounces the leg that's slotted between your thighs, your clit grazing against him through the thin fabric of your workout shorts. he only gauges your reaction to it, waiting, expecting you to fight back but you don't. the movement was soft enough for you not to notice it at first, but when the rubbing gets repetitive and you finally realize just how long you've been in such a comprising position for him, a flood of both excitement and anxiety goes straight to your core.

it almost feels like a betrayal to jason, even if you owed him nothing. you couldn't even remember the last time you hooked up with somebody, and it was actually good. you'd been stuck with making yourself cum, and that got old very quickly. on one hand, doing this with bruce could potentially ruin your relationship with his other wards if you were caught, and on the other hand, you were horny enough to not be thinking straight. even if bruce was a weird fuck that you didn't trust fully.

you manage to let out strained whimpers, hoping to appeal to bruce so he'd let you go. the arch of your back had become strenuous, but even then, you found yourself yearning for more. if this is what he wanted, you couldn't bring yourself to stop him. your hips move on their own accord, rutting and pressing the plush lips of your cunt along the thick muscle, face contorting slightly in pleasure whenever your sensitive bud received the attention it craved so much.

he allowed you to hump his leg like an animal in heat, his hips jutting out forward and now fully pressing a heavy cock against your ass, the clothed tip resting by the lower half of your back. whether you fully wanted this or not, it didn't really matter to bruce. the arm that was wrapped around your neck moves down, then squeezing a handful of one of your tits, appreciating its weight and how squishy it was in his grasp.

the differences in sizes made your body appear tinier than it really was, and bruce thought that was cute too. his other free hand wrapping around your body so he could feel both of your pillowy breasts in his hands, his groping making you squirm. even if you encouraged this more than you probably should've, you wonder if this is moving way too fast. he's your best friends dad for christ sake. jason's dad. (as much as he liked to deny it). and you were already living in his mansion.

all while these thoughts swirl through your head, bruce is slipping his hands beneath your shirt and moving the cups of your bra out the way, twisting and pinching at your pert nipples. his teeth find your neck, biting, a tongue licking the sensitive skin. you felt helpless to how quick and overwhelming all of it is. it doesn't take long for it to feel like his presence and touch is suffocating you, and bruce is even more greedy than you are.

"can i touch you baby?" the grufness of his voice sends chills down your spine.

you don't know why he even asks. you stupidly nod your head in agreement, even though rough pads of his fingers are already eagerly shoving themselves into your shorts and cupping your tiny pussy through cotton panties. he hums in content, noting the warmth of it and the gentle rhythmic pulses. your heart races, resisting the urge to hump his hand just like you were on his thigh.

much to your disappointment, he slips his hand out of your shorts, whining at the loss of contact. that is up until your bottoms are being pushed down your legs, and suddenly, you're conscious of how anyone could walk in on the two of you. and you still can't bring yourself to protest.

bruce bends you over once more, your face down and ass up for him. his cock aches in its confines, throbbing and begging to be released, but he holds it off. he stares at your exposed cunt, making you feel subconscious for a bit. your lips are soft and glistening, tiny clit shyly hiding beneath the hood. his thumbs spread your cheeks a bit, your slick holes on display for him.

your arousal drips down, dripping a bit onto the sparring mat in the process. your openings wink at him a bit with small flutters, and bruce leans down slightly, using his own spit to lube up your asshole and rim it with his thumb, even if he wasn't going to use it yet.

your body jolts, yelping a bit in surprise. no one had ever touched you there, and you certainly weren't expecting it just now. your hands move to try and cover yourself. "wait— i've never—"

bruce interrupts you with low shushes, kneading the soft flesh of your asscheek in his hand. he decides to feel your clit instead, his thumb working its way down your slit and easily finding the tiny nub. the constant and steady movement ties a knot in your tummy, instinctively pushing your cunt against his hand, soft moans emitting from you. fuck, he was good at this.

you were no stranger to playboy bruce wayne. ever since you've met him, he always had a litter of lovers that followed him around like lost pets, people that he'd never commit to always at his beck and call. you think you might understand why, now. he was a provider, strong, handsome. and even though you hadn't felt his cock inside you yet, you feared you might not ever want another one again after this.

your pussy fluttered desperately, needing something inside you, an impending orgasm building up but frustration was still there. one of his long, thick fingers offers you grace, gently pushing into your cunt. it was almost comical how easily he got you to gush and make a mess of his hand, the digit rubbing and pushing at that sensitive and spongey spot deep inside of you.

"fuck!— bruce—" you cried out, back arching even further, hair sticking against your forehead due to your sweaty state. you pant quickly, trying to regain composure, but your heart only beats more wildly, like a tiny prey animal, the sound of bruce's clothes being removed filling your ears.

you twist your body and head a bit so you could look at him, the sight making your mouth fall open slightly, practically drooling while you oggled him. regardless of his age, the man before you was built like a damn sculpture. hand-crafted to perfection. he was still toned in all the right places after all these years, even if his body had grown softer during his time as a father. coarse hair that led down to a fat cock that was standing up at full attention.

you whimper a bit, unsure if you were really prepared for this. you assume that whatever this is will have an unspoken agreement to be kept secret, at least you hope so. bruce was sometimes unpredictable, but if dick or even jason found out, you'd imagine you and bruce would be killed.

"don't worry baby," bruce grunts softly, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. the head of his cock teases your entrance, before moving his hips in a mimick motion of thrusting into you, fucking himself in between your thighs and cunt. the tip of his cock smears pre-cum along your stomach, a thick vein protruding from the shaft, and you worry your guts are about to be rearranged, not knowing if you'll be able to walk without a limp tomorrow.

you haven't been able to catch a good look at his cock yet, but you're sure he's gonna have the biggest dick you've ever had. it's proven to you quickly, the air being knocked out of your lungs when he fully sheaths himself inside, bottoming out without warning.

bruce grins above you, his hand resting on your lower back, just above your butt so he could watch the delicious jiggle of your ass bouncing on his cock. he keeps a slow pace at first. judging by your reaction, he knows the stretch hurts you a bit. your baby pussy was so taut around the meaty length, lips struggling to open up for him, even after playing with it.

soft ah ah ahs spill from you, body quivering ever so slightly. it would've been unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't watching you as closely as bruce was. you wanted to take it. you wanted to be good for him. you didn't want to disappoint him. you needed to take his cock like a big girl, even if you didn't fully understand why you wished to please him so much. maybe it's just cause you were sick of feeling like a child in front of him. like you had something to prove even if it wasn't needed. he'd adore you either way, but you didn't know it yet.

bruce was surprised you even succumbed to him as easily as you did, an adorable determination in your eyes, he presumes for a number of reasons. you were deprived just as much as him, which sometimes led to some questionable decisions. which meant he also knew you'd regret this later. but those were problems for another time.

one of his hands finds your wrists, keeping your arms pinned behind your back. bruce imagines the dainty fingers struggling to wrap around his thick girth, how pretty you would look with a cock fucking down your throat. he had fantasized about this happening for too long.

he fucks you with consistent movements, cherishing this moment in case he wouldn't be able to get it back. you were a kind girl. he knew all about the conflicted feelings that were settled deep in your heart because he felt them too. the teary look in your eyes, not knowing if you wanted him to stop or fuck you even harder, but he'd do the latter. with or without your permission.

bruce snaps his hips with more ferocity, keeping his focus on the recoil of your ass, his cock getting getting increasingly wet with creamy white slick, a ring of cum forming at the base of his length. you shudder a bit, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, and you shift your hips to fuck him back, needily chasing your own orgasm.

"that's it— use that little pussy on daddy," bruce hisses through his teeth, his nails digging into your supple flesh, all the filthy sounds that you and that sweet pussy made had his cock pulsing.

you could barely register a word he said, completely forgetting about anything other than the persistent pounding your weeping cunt was receiving. tears prickle your eyes, spit spilling out of your mouth. you looked a damn mess, barely coherent other than the small chanting of 'daddy' just like a prayer, mindlessly accepting the title.

this was something that bruce could get used to. everything about you was just so damn perfect. he shamelessly hoped that you were ovulating, wishing to fill your womb with his seed and make your belly full and round with his child, then you'd have no reason to leave. even if you tried, he wouldn't allow it.

your toes flex and curl, legs trembling from a wave of ecstasy. your poor cunt spasms uncontrollably around his cock, a strangled but sweet moan forced out of you while you rode out your climax. bruce stuffed you full, plugging himself deep inside of you. he stayed there for a moment before fucking you with slower but unmerciful strokes, skin slapping against you with a force that made your breasts bounce harshly.

your pussy squelches, juices leaking all over him. you struggle to crawl away from him cause of the overstimulation, aching and already sore due to the ceaseless strech. but he only pulls you back, growling at your disobedience, swatting your ass with a calloused hand. bruce cums with a raspy groan, a bruising grip on your hips, the sticky substance painting your velvety walls.

the mat below you is drenched in a mixture of yours and bruce's fluids, sure to leave a stain unless poor alfred was stuck cleaning your mess, and you had a feeling bruce wouldn't do it. you'd be willing to clean it yourself to save the embarrassment, but your weak limbs had other plans.

you think he's finished with you until you're hoisted up, forcibly turned around so bruce could see the rest of your naked body. he wastes no time to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak. he wasn't going to allow you to leave here without leaving his mark on you, claiming you by filling up and covering your chest with his lovebites.

he could care less if anyone had seen how effortlessly he managed to corrupt you. all it took was to turn you into his perfect little cocksleeve. it'd be damn near impossible to avoid him after this. even if he wasn't around, the memory would be forever ingrained into your mind, and you wouldn't be able to look at dick or jason or any of the other wards without the reminder that you fucked their father.

you gently try to push at bruce's broad shoulders, the effort not doing much other than making him bite down on your tit, then moving along to the other. you guess the post-nut clarity had hit you, and a tinge of guilt welled up in your chest.

your brows furrow a bit in a feeling of discomfort when bruce glides two fingers through your folds, then gently massaging the swollen button above them. but your heartbeat picks up again, cunt clearly working with a mind of its own.

strained whimpers spill like honey from your lips, now finally shaking your head and attempting to push yourself away in defense when it's what you should've been doing since the beginning. bruce let's you break away from him though, his lips pulling off of you with a pop.

stern eyes meet your lustful but ashamed gaze, a state of displeasure evident on bruce's face. it's something that worries you, unsure of what that might entail. you don't want to make him angry, and you also don't think you're ready to leave the manor just yet, but you also don't know if you can act indifferent around bruce and the others.

maybe if he wasn't around as often, things would be easier, and you'd be able to pretend like this wasn't a mistake. your throat bobs, swallowing your anxiousness, wanting to reevaluate yourself, preferably alone.

you kneel there and wait, half expecting bruce to just fix himself up and leave without much regard for you, because you assumed that's the type of man he would be after fucking someone, but he doesn't. instead, he let's out a small disgruntled noise, collecting your panties and shorts that he had pulled off of you earlier.

his cum is still seeping out of you, a thick load slow to ooze out of you when bruce had emptied his balls inside your abused pussy. he doesn't ask if you want help or if you wanted to be cleaned up, simply raising the fabric up your legs and thighs till the most precious parts of you were covered again. the cotton becomes damp, your wet core coating them with the evidence of yours and bruce's sex.

he shortly cups the tiny cunt in his large hand, gently swiping his thumb over your mound. a small sigh leaves his lips, almost as if he was sad to be leaving the warmth and tightness of it so soon. you're not sure if you're comfortable with how easily he assumed he should have access to your body, but you guess it's also partly your fault, so you allow it for now.

his lips find yours, surprisingly gentle and loving, a stark contrast to how hard he was pistoning his dick inside your belly. but it's pleasant, so you welcome that also. bruce's tongue is smooth and soft, gliding along yours for a moment before he breaks away, a hazy look in his eyes. something you don't think you've ever seen there before, and you swear he's so dreamy to look at.

it's when you remember he's still undressed, eyes shifting below between your bodies and honing in on the massive cock that bruce endowed. even if it was gradually getting softer, he was still semi-hard, his blood pumping to that area just in case he needed to go another round. he'd be more than willing to stuff that tiny hole for you again, and he wished you'd ask him to, but you don't.

but maybe you will someday.

he let's you stare at his cock unabashedly, his breathing heavy and shaky. he slowly moved his hand, gently jerking the long length since you were gawking at him. you let out a cute squeak, suddenly remembering you were about to leave.

bruce doesn't seem to care that it's getting late, or that the rest of the family would be heading down to the cave sooner or later, his focus purely on what was in front of him. but he can see the look of worry written all over you, and it deters him. he stands up to his full height, your eyes widening slightly, his cock dangled in front of you shamelessly, and a small smirk forms on his face.

he has to refrain from grabbing your hair and prodding his dick between those pretty lips of yours. he moves to tug his joggers back on, his cock slapping a bit against his thigh from the movement. you never break eye contact, and neither does he, your thoughts plagued by bewilderment and amorosity.

you stumble over yourself while picking yourself up off the ground, barely reaching bruce's shoulders. you have to tilt your head up just to look at him without straining your eyes, uncertain of what to say or how your relationship with him will be like after this. it's distressing for you, but you're even more concerned with how you're gonna be able to look dick or jason in the eyes again afterwards.

you push away your apprehensiveness, chewing on your bottom lip so you can find the right words. "this— this never happened," you stutter out, your voice coming out more frail than you intended.

bruces lips curl a bit in dismay, his jaw clenching. out of everything he wanted to hear you say, that was certainly not at the top of his list. his hands ball into a fist, his nerves tensing up. he would never think about hurting you. not physically, at least. but you didn't know that. bruce scoffs lightly, almost amused that you actually thought he'd let you off that easily.

you scramble a bit, trying to get your point out before he can get a word in. "if anyone found out–"

"who i fuck is my business only," he cuts you off, already knowing what you'll say next. it's something he's thought over plenty times already. dick had been suprisingly compliant with bruce thus far, so he wasn't an issue according to bruce, and it was easy to get to him anyway. but he didn't foresee his other sons feelings coming into play, or yours. "and you're not an innocent little girl either, so don't act like one."

shit. you were practically digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole since you moved here. you stare up at him with pleading eyes, and he can't help but soften up a bit. if you were more smart, none of this would've ever happened. how the hell are you gonna be pining after jason now? and bruce.. he seemed less than pleased at the moment. and your gut told you that he wouldn't be letting this go anytime soon.

but he was at heart, a family man. everything he did was out of love, and a desire to protect others so they didn't have to experience the pain he felt when he lost the people most important to him. at least that's what you liked to believe. after jason's passing, they worked so hard to rebuild their relationship, and the trust between them had slowly begun to resemble what it used to be, even if there were some slight changes.

there was no way in your mind that bruce would destroy all of that just for you. you were just some girl, who occasionally hung around his son, but that didn't mean you held as much value in his life than his adopted children. he wouldn't go as far as breaking down his own home, again, just for you, would he?

"if this ever happened," you gesture between the two of you, shaking your head, already gathering how he must've felt about this based off his demeanor. you were no master detective like he was, but being able to easily read body language, sensing people's energies, and intuition, you were good at. "it would ruin everything."

"we're not going to argue about this." he rebutted, taking on a more stern tone, his voice raising above yours. like he was already making the decision for the both of you, and you weren't having that. you want to say more till the sound of footsteps catch your attention, a familiar voice resonating from the stairwell.

"master bruce, is everything alright?" you silently thank whatever higher power that it's alfred instead of someone else. alfred has had his fair share of catching bruce in.. less than favorable circumstances. but the look of surprise on his face isn't something you can miss, even if it's only there for a split second. you'd been caught.

alfred's eyes wander down to the floor below you that's still wet with juices, registering what it was quickly. his eyes meet yours for a moment, smiling at you weakly, then taking a step back from you and bruce. "sorry for the interruption, sir." the older man says formally, turning on his heel to leave, but you do the same before he can.

"actually, i was just leaving." you glance at bruce whose eyes haven't left yours since even before alfred entered the cave. and then you were back to feeling small and helpless around him, back to square one. you sigh and roll your eyes at his poker-face, trying to rush out the cave to escape the awkward interaction.

alfred's eyes follow you with worry, only turning to bruce with a vexed expression once you're gone, shaking his head in disappointment. bruce stared at him blankly, already knowing he was about to get a scolding. "i'm a grown man—"

"precisely." alfred cuts him off, sass in his voice. "she's over a decade younger than you, your sons friend. you have no right to take advantage of her." he argued, pointing a finger in bruce's face.

"she can make her own decisions." bruce seethes, unwilling to hear him out. he hates himself for knowing deep down the butler was right, but he didn't force you to do anything. not really. he knew this wouldn't be without repercussions, but alfred wouldn't say anything either to avoid suspicion.

everything would blow up in bruce's face, and maybe he'd take some accountability for once in his life, but alfred highly doubted that would happen anytime soon.

bruce faced away from him, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. he hated how easily you turned this around on him, turning into a little cock-drunk slut while having sex and then turning around to be angry at him, but it was something he'd seen coming. bruce huffs out a heavy breath, ignoring alfred's smoldering expression. "just get out, i'll clean this up."

"and what of the girl?" alfred asks, side-eyeing the man he raised. he cared more for your safety and how you felt rather than getting on bruce's nerves. "that isn't your concern. i'll take care of it."

alfred was less than enthusiastic about what that could possibly mean, or what any of this would result in. his heart ached for you and jason, even occasionally eavesdropping on the time you spent together, and the friendship had blossomed. maybe it could have turned into something more, but he isn't so sure now.

he turns back into his more reserved and neutral state, giving bruce one last judgmental stare before leaving him to tend to him thoughts. there was no point in trying to reason with him, so he wouldn't waste the energy. he'd only watch you like a hawk now. and bruce included.

with alfred away now, bruce makes quick work of his computer. he searches for the camera he placed in your room upon your arrival to the manor. there's a weird feeling in his chest that he can't quite explain, unsure of what it even was, seeing you curled up in bed, staring off into space. this was one of the rare times he wished he was meta, just so he could read your mind, pick your brain, even if just for a little bit.

you didn't seem sad or angry. just more confused by what he could tell. your eyes shifting like you were thinking up all the possibilities and outcomes of this, and he hated to see it wrack your head. he wished he could say something, or hold you, anything that would give you comfort, but it'd probably just have the opposite of his desired effect.

he had hoped to dwell on the fact that he finally got to penetrate that pretty little cunt of yours more without having to stress over issues that were nonexistent for now, but that wouldn't be the case. there was always something there to bite him in the ass and humble him if need be.

now he could only dream that whatever emotions you possessed for jason would alleviate. that he was an option you didn't know you had up until today. he hoped that he could make you his. and he would. just one day at a time.

he makes sure to save the footage that the security cameras all over the cave had captured, for later usage. he didn't think he'd get an experience like that again anytime soon, that he had just gotten lucky this one time.

but you were almost too eager to fuck him back. bruce wondered if maybe he had more of a chance than he thought, but he didn't know the extent of the loyalty you held for jason or him. or if you would want to avoid the situation completely and decide to leave the mansion. he was never a religious man, but if there was anything for him to pray for, it was you.

he didn't know what was worse. his eyes narrow, analyzing you for a quick moment before shutting off the computer, his head almost beginning to hurt due to the frustration.

just one day at a time.

[eccentricallygothic]

Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333 

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact. 

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly. 

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed. 

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you. 

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view. 

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head. 

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?" 

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…" 

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure. 

"Please–!" 

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face. 

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare. 

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so. 

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run. 

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled. 

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size? 

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable. 

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth. 

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly. 

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs. 

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air. 

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table. 

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper. 

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over. 

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either. 

Just what the hell is going on? 

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last. 

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly. 

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!" 

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves. 

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen. 

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second. 

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you. 

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it. 

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room. 

. . . 

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket. 

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.  

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search. 

For you. 

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief. 

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them. 

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you. 

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were. 

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants. 

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head. 

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction. 

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end. 

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor. 

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you. 

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?" 

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words. 

Fuck. 

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes. 

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition." 

"C- Condition, s- sir?" 

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form. 

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge. 

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead. 

"Sir–" 

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety. 

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue. 

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock. 

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling. 

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now. 

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next. 

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!" 

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to. 

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle. 

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.  

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact. 

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration. 

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while. 

Then he told you that it would  feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good. 

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach. 

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot. 

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now." 

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders. 

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on. 

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy. 

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it. 

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body. 

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo. 

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably. 

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected. 

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well. 

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together. 

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much? 

That was, until one day…

. . . 

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you. 

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…" 

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately. 

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked. 

But you were too little to know those things. 

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house. 

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need. 

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior. 

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes. 

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat. 

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake. 

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place. 

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

[teyamloving12]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫l

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Miles Quaritch x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content, large age gap, cursing, mentions of violence, implied sex, dub-con, abuse of authority, unprotected sex, etc.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩����𝐢𝐬: He was always watching. He saw you grow up into who you are now and only chuckled at the snarky remarks you made towards him.

He was vigilant, at least that what his mother would say when he was young. He was always wary of the people and things that dared to breathe around him. Maybe that is why he was held in high regard-- no, people didnt show him any regard or esteem. They were not at ease as a consequence of his barbaric tactics. The excruciating demands from his mouth when he bellowed commands to the inferior was immeasurable.

"𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞."

His lean muscles become tense whilst he caught a glimpse of the imbeciles that bowed before him. The little bastard of one of the recombinants would only amuse herself with the teddy bear that had a broken button as its eye in the corner of the meeting room.

His eyes would turn to then look at the little girl and she would express tenderness. A smile meritorious of millions, a piece of treasure that would glisten when polished. She was the ripest fruit upon the tree.

He softened for once in his life but he regained his composure and scoffed at the little, joyful creature. She is pathetic like her father. Always smiling and galavanting about the place. "No wonder Sully killed him", he said in a low-pitched tone. The fool left his little bastard after conjuring her up in her mother's womb. Is that what a man is? What whore of a woman opens her legs during war?

From a mere babe to a woman, he watched with keen eyes as you matured. He knew you despised his existence. He knew you picked up your father's soft and wimpish heart and mind. He felt a glare full of disgust from across the room. He only chuckled. Inadequate. You were pathetic, however, how could he resist that malevolent glow in your eyes?

The meeting room was packed like sardines and as loud as a clap of thunder. Shouts and cries of annoyance and protest echoed across the meeting room. Quaritch tilted his head at the sight of his team at each other's throats. "Jake Sully is a traitor that must be killed immediately", he roared. His ear-splitting voice boomed across the room.

"I beg to disagree", _____ said with an iron hand. "You come to their home demanding control and honor.", ______ started. Not a hint of apprehensiveness came from your tone. "This is their home and you came to disrespect it, therefore Sully chose the right path to leave rather than to stay.", _____ continued, fearing not the consequences that came after. "You got your mother's smart mouth huh?", Quaritch chuckled.

Though his hair was gray with white streaks on both sides of his head, his body was still muscular and strong. He had the ability to strike fear in anyone that he came across, young or old. "You are a fool to think that the Navi will give up their home for you. How confident do you have to be?", ______ clapped back at his supposingly insult.

No one in this world had the capability to wipe a petulant expression from his face. The Colonel's grin fell from his face. His eyes narrowed at the woman before him. "A fool, did you just call me a fool, little girl?", he focused your attention on his last two words. "I'm not your little girl.", _______ uttered. He then had the nerve to turn his back to you showing that your words had no significance to him.

He didn't care. He never did.

The little bastard that would play with her teddy bear has finally grown up. So grown, she had the effrontery and impudence to disrespect him. Quaritch faced you but his face was not of stone, almost as if he was laughing at your remark.

"When your whore of a mother decided to spread her legs in the middle of war, I gave her pity. She was lucky enough to give birth and she was lucky that I had not killed you.", he mouthed. You heard a few giggles from the recombinants in the room." This is the same place where you were raised, where you are fed. This is where you were grown and you will remember who you're talking to, little girl", he finished, emphasizing the last two words once more.

"Colonel or not, you will not dare to insult my mother like that.", _______ retorted. "The dead has no power, she's dead and so is your daddy. What will they do?", Quaritch snickered. The recombinants made comments on how your mother would have attacked him spiritually, earning a chuckle from Quaritch.

"Leave", he stated. The recombinants began to leave, confused by the sudden command. "You, stay", Quaritch demanded. You glared at the disgusting man that stood tall before you. "What do you want?", ______ mumbled. Quaritch grabbed you by your chin. "Do you hate me?", he asked with a smirk. After a moment of silence, your eyes met his. "More than ever", I responded. He scoffed at your remark. It was not what he had expected.

Out of rage and frustration, he pushed you back. Your figure collided with the edge of the meeting table causing immense, nerve-wrecking pain. "What the fuck is wrong with you?", ______ yelled, holding your side. "It's funny.", he deadpanned. "Funny how I wasted my resources on a bitch who claims she hates me.", He said, walking towards you. "Your glares won't kill me.", he added

Quaritch grabbed you by the nape of your neck. You attempted to defend yourself by slapping him across his face. He threw you on the meeting table with ease. Your breath hitched as you felt your back make contact with the stern, glass table. "You will learn that ungratefulness and disobedience come with a price.", he declared. Your glares were vicious until you heard it.

The sound of his belt buckle being undone...

Your heart dropped. "No", _____said, denying his advances. "You're still denying me, little girl", he cringed at your refusal. "You are abusing the authority that you have.", ______ exclaimed in fright. "Scream. Tell them. Tell them how you hate me.", Quaritch snickered. Tears streamed down your face, stopping at you chin. "You and I both know that this room is soundproof. They won't hear you", he whispered the last sentence.

The worst happened. You closed your eyes, praying to God in your head. You hoped you were just dreaming. Unfortunately, you were wide awake, living in a nightmare he had created. He towered over your frozen figure. "You had so much mouth just now.", Quaritch smirked. "Sometimes that nasty ass attitude hides your pretty face", he added. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his bulging member.

The tip was rubbing against the soaked spot on your panties. Your head was spinning. On the verge to faint, Quaritch began to speak up. "Why are you wet if you hate me?". His forehead was dripping in sweat. His swollen cock was in his fist whilst he teased at the tip, spreading his precum on your underwear. Quaritch thought about you. He thought of how he would shot what makes him feel heavenly. He knew you learned fast and would care for him like he wanted.

"Do you still hate me?", he asked again. His cock twitched as he slid your panties aside revealing a soaked slit. Your eyes fluttered open instantly. He attempted to push him away but he was clearly stronger. The veins on his cock bulged like a beast. It was hungry and ready to strike. "I absolutely despise yo-ahhh", you were met with his cock half way inside yet you felt full.

He groaned. "Fuck. Should've done this earlier.", he muttered under his breath. Your pussy was squeezing him, tight enough to cut off blood flow to his lower body or maybe he was just too big. "Take it out!", you exclaimed throwing punches at his chiseled torso. Your command was a clearly a joke. He trailed his fingers to your clit and places them into your face to show you the truth. Your body wants it. It was obvious.

"Admit it little girl, you always wanted it", he declared. Did you? Did you really want it? "I-", you were caught up in your words and thoughts. You hated him, he was unjust and cruel. So why is your body betraying you at this moment?

“f-fuck—” Quaritch breathed, and his voice lets out a shaky call of your name. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he groaned. Quaritch bit his lip, fighting back a moan as he pushed himself slowly into you even more. Your back arched as you let out a shaky moan.

He grabbed your hips as he thrusted inside you with no mercy. “are you mine?”, Quaritch asks and the rough, deep tone is such a turn on for you. You hated yourself for moaning like a common slut for him, your colonel. The one you hated all your life.

“Don’t cover your mouth. No one can hear you. And even if they could, who do you think would help you, hmm?” Quaritch said. "I-I don't know" ______ whimpered. He quickened his actions further. You could feel your orgasm building deep within your core.

A lustful feeling, taking over every last rational thought your brain had left to offer. "P-please slow down." ______ begged. You whined in response, sparks of pleasure shooting from your dampened core. The unbearable sound of squelching filled the space around you. A small moan escaped from your lips.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t. But as the pleasure became so unbearable you became unsure. You felt yourself clench down on Quaritch's hard, throbbing cock. Your orgasm overtook your shaking body, ripples of pleasure coursed through you. You cried out from the aching pleasure. 

Although he hadn't finished, he pulled out. He stared at the face you had. He fucked you dumb. Now you will know your place. "Do you hate me?", he asked with a smirk. "Never~", you moaned, your pussy still sensitive from his cock.

Good little girl.

[cleoluvrr]

high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) - I

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, choking, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide ,kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

rafe’s head weighed down your chest, tears soaking through your pajama shirt that left your skin feeling sticky from the salty substance. his large body was racked with sobs and while it may have made someone else feel pity for the boy, all you could feel was the uneasiness creeping up your spine.

he’d shown up randomly in the dead of night, the sound of his knock at your window leaving you filled with so much dread that you almost ignored the desperate tapping. the tall man stumbled in like a fawn, leaking blood from his flushed, teary face that left stains all over his shirt. as he came closer, the red scratch left behind from his father’s family ring was clear on his cheekbone, raised and pink from the irritation.

it was the second time that week he’d come over like this. the bruises from the last time had not even healed before being overlapped by fresh ones.

you weren’t sure why rafe and his father got into it so bad, so often; but it had taken a toll on you both mentally and physically for having to deal with the aftermath all on your own. 

after nursing his injuries and having him change into a spare shirt he’d left in your room, all you could do was allow him to cry into you. it was the only thing you had the energy to do, and there were no words you had to say to him to make him feel any better than he did now. 

so, here you sat with your back against the headboard, legs outstretched and weighed down by your boyfriend’s body as he buried his face into you chest to muffle the cries that he couldn’t stop from escaping. sleep was slowly creeping through your body, but you fought it off to pacify your aching lover’s pain.

“it’s okay,.” your voice was soft, the sweet sound vibrating against his ear drums. “you don’t need to cry, i’m right here.”

you continued to speak soothing words to him for what felt like an eternity before he finally began to calm down, his cries steadily reducing to erratic sniffle every few dozen seconds. your arms cradle his upper body as you gently rock side to side in both an effort to calm him and keep yourself awake.

a pair of puffy eyes stared back up at you as rafe pulled his face from its hiding spot. his face was tired, pink, and tear stained, though most of the salty fluid was thoroughly soaked into the tank top stretched across your chest that he used to cry into. you don’t complain about the less than comfortable way it sticks to your skin out of concern that it would only manage to further upset him.

“i’m sorry…” rafe’s voice was quiet and broken as he spoke, the strength of his sobs evident from the damage it left on his voice. 

“don’t be. you have nothing to be sorry for.” your head shakes at him in refusal. nimble fingers graze over his face gently as you wipe away the stray tears that continued to fall. 

“i didn’t mean to come over so late.” the pink of his tongue pokes out to moisten his chapped lips before it retreats. “i didn’t know what to do. i–i just really needed you, y/n.”

“i know, baby, i promise it's okay.” you look down at him with soft eyes, one that you pray display deep affection for the man and not the irritation you felt inching closer to the front. “you can come to me whenever; i always have time for you.”

it wasn’t a lie, exactly. if rafe wanted to see you then he would do it, whether you were busy or not. you had no free time, practically your entire life outside of school was dedicated to your relationship. going to a college on the mainland was completely out of the question, simply because rafe would never let it happen–he already hated the fact that you lived fifteen minutes away. you couldn’t count how many times he’d begged you to live in tannyhill with him, nor could you count how many times you’d said no. living four hours away in a different city where he couldn’t keep a constant eye on you, where you would be around thousands of guys, would never happen–in this lifetime or the next.

you had to go to a university nearby to take classes, one that was close enough to home that so wouldn’t have to leave. you rarely hung out with your friends alone because it offended your boyfriend if you spent too much time with them. ‘are they more important than i am?’ is what he would ask through gritted teeth whenever you made plans with them more than twice a week. 

that’s how much rafe controlled every aspect of your life.

the last time you tried to free yourself of it, rafe promised to kill you. so you’ve learned to accept it for your own safety. even if your entire life revolved around your boyfriend, you’d rather that than having it be taken from you.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you remained cautious in your inquiry, trying your best to be inoffensive as to prevent triggering him to anger or another crying fit. “it’s the second time this week you came over like this, baby…i’m worried.”

“my dad doesn’t think i deserve you, that’s what happened.” rafe chuckled dryly, head shaking as if he couldn’t believe his father would ever say something like that.

“what?” you brows knit together in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“my dad really likes you, y/n. more than he likes me, probably.” he releases another humorless snort. “he called me a, and i quote, ‘worthless leech of a son.’ he said that you were too good for me and that you would never stay with someone like me if you were as smart as he thought you were.”

you blinked at him as you processed the recounting of events. ward’s words towards rafe should never be uttered from a parent to their child, but he wasn't wrong.

rafe stole money from his father and misused their funds very regularly. he would spend it on drugs, alcohol, vehicles, and whatever else he felt like impulsive spending on–all the while he contributed nothing. it was something that you consistently scolded him for, especially when he would spend his father’s hard earned money on expensive gifts for you.

you would never call rafe worthless, but it would be a lie to say he’s not mooching off his father. however, every rich kid in kildare did the same thing to their parents, and his father definitely never worked to stop the behavior while he was younger.

as for you being too smart to stay with someone like rafe–you can’t say that you agree too much.

“don’t listen to him, rafe. no good father should ever say that to their child.” is what you settled on telling him instead.

“i know, what a piece of shit.” he shook his head, eyes rolling in annoyance as he retold the events of the night. you observed the faint appearance of a smirk on his face, the ghost of a smile barely visible but you couldn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips before he spoke again. “so i told him he’s just mad that my girl actually loves me, while my mom was smart enough to leave his ass.”

“rafe!”

“yeah, he didn’t like that very much.” the eyes that had lowered while he spoke flicked back up to watch yours. “he hit me with that big ass ring on and told me to leave, so i did.”

you tilted your head to the side, lip caught between the whiteness of your teeth.

what he shared was not out of the ordinary for the duo. what was out of the ordinary was the state in which rafe was in just a few minutes ago. typically he would just come over and let you dress his wounds before letting you play with his hair is silence, or listening to him call his father everything but a child of god in a rage-fueled rant. 

“and why were you crying? you can’t just show up like that, rafe…you scared me.” the boy in your arms sat silently for a moment before answering.

“its just…you’re in college now. i’ve made so many plans for our future but what if….you’re not gonna leave me, right?” rafe had worry set deep into his expression as he watched you process the question, his head shaking at you. “he was wrong, you’d never do that. you’re smart enough to know better.”

you were sure he heard you gulp after speaking the last sentence. you knew what he was implying, and he was right. ward was correct in saying that you were intelligent enough to know that staying with rafe was a terrible idea, but you were also smart enough to know that rafe would do anything and everything under the sun before letting you go.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby. don’t listen to him, he just wants to get under your skin.” it nearly made you sick to say it, but what choice did you really have? “i love you so, so much, and going to school isn’t going to change that. i’ve had a plan for my life way before i met you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t wanna make you a part of it. my future is my future, but i can’t see it without you there too.”

you meant what you said. you love rafe so, very deeply, and you would do almost anything to make him happy–within reason. rafe didn’t understand reason; rationality was not his forte. any reasonable person would understand that the waters would be tested once a high school relationship became an adult relationship, but rafe was not reasonable. any normal person knows that plans change as life goes on, but rafe was not normal.

maybe you would marry him one day. you might have his kids, be his trophy wife, and live in tannyhill, happily ever after. you knew that even if you went to college on the mainland, you wouldn’t leave rafe. that you would come back to kildare every chance you got and spend every spare second with him until you had to leave again.

even when he gave you hell, you still loved him with every bone in your body. 

rafe didn’t understand that, though, and that’s what led to your attempt at breaking it off with him. he degraded your lifelong goal, telling you that your relationship was more important that ‘some stupid degree’ could ever be. you supported him through everything, even when you thought it was the most idiotic thing someone could do, so his total disregard for something that you deeply cared for hurt you. 

the only reason rafe even let you go to school was because he’s terrified of losing you. not only physically, but emotionally. sure, he could threaten your life to make you stay and you’d listen out of fear. what he knew, however, is that he would lose you if he took your dream away from you. his leash was tight, but it was long enough to keep you satisfied.

rafe nodded at you in approval, seemingly satisfied enough with your answer to leave it alone.

he never wanted you to go to college in the first place. it was the only thing that you put your foot down on, but if it were up to him, the two of you would be getting married by spring.

he thought it was stupid–why do you need a degree or a job? why work when rafe was there to provide for you once he took over his dad’s company? he fought you long and hard about it for months, but you wouldn’t budge. you needed a safety net–you couldn’t let him take the most important thing in life taken away from you; knowledge. 

for you, knowledge was power. it was the closest thing you had to freedom. you knew that if you had a degree, it would be a safeguard in case things with rafe ever went south. deep down your boyfriend knew that, which is probably why he was so against it in the first place.

rafe knew his father was right, which is why he was in such a severe state of distress. he would never admit to that, however,

“are you just saying that because you’re scared?” your breath hitched at the sudden question and you were sure that you’d been caught.

“no! i mean it, seriously-”

“you’re smart to be scared, honestly.” he chuckled at you darkly, eyes glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. “i couldn’t live without you in my life, i love you too much. just thinking about you ever trying to leave me makes me so–so…sick. i need you more than anything. i would probably have to kill myself if you were gone, because i don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

you remained stoic. 

“and i couldn’t see you with anyone that isn’t me.” he stared at you for a heavy moment after saying it. the two of you both knew what he was hinting at, a look of understanding shared amongst the silence that overtook the room.

“rafe, my love…i don’t think that’s healthy.” the words left you in a soft, inoffensive tone. setting off the unstable man was the last thing you wanted to do. “you shouldn’t say things like that, its not funny..”

he shrugged at you, pushing your arms away from him and sitting upright. your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his soft lips against yours, body melting into him instinctively. it only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away abruptly, the feeling of his soft breath mixing with yours leaving you confused. 

the moment doesn’t stay on your mind any longer when he leans back in, lips meeting yours in a fervor. your skin feels flushed, face warm as the tingling feeling sets in from his skin on yours. rafe brought his hand up from its resting place on your thigh and attempts to wrap it around your neck like he usually does, but you pull it away haphazardly, hardly paying it any attention as you descend deeper into the kiss.

your own fingers reach up to play with his hair, a set of manicured nails gently scraping against the nape of his neck. you use it to pull him closer, the sound of lips smacking together filling the otherwise silent room along with your minorly labored breathing.

a warm, calloused hand slowly crawled up your side and landed on your throat once again, each finger slowly working to wrap around your neck in a firm grip. it was much tighter this time, and its grip strengthening faster than you could adjust. you reach up once more to pull it away, but he doesn’t let up.

“stop,” you pull away from him mid-kiss, your hand covering the pale one tightly wound around your neck. he doesn’t flinch at the sound of your demand, eyes low as he observes your increasingly frantic movements.

“what?” he asked.

rafe’s face was expressionless, the slight scrunch in his nose being the only giveaway of his sudden rise to anger. it was the silent rage that scared you, why you so carefully chose your words when speaking to him–because it would lead to moments like this. you weren’t even sure what you said to trigger him, but your rapidly decreasing airflow wouldn’t allow for you to think about it in depth.

“rafe, stop.” you repeat yourself. another hand reaches up to fight against his, nails scratching at the skin as they try to pull him off. the feeling had long passed being uncomfortable, and was encroaching on unbearable. “what’re you doing?” 

“what's wrong, baby…can’t breathe?” your boyfriend’s eyes furrowed with a look of faux concern, but you felt him stop holding back. he allowed the full weight of his strength onto you, biceps flexing as the tips of his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat. “huh?”

unable to answer verbally, you hummed quietly as you desperately tugged at him. despite your incessant squirming, that doesn’t deter him from returning his lips to yours. the kiss was sloppy, you were too focused on fighting for what little breath you had to return it fully, but rafe didn’t seem to care.  

he suckled at your bottom lip before nipping it with the sharpness of his teeth. he laved his tongue against yours, all but fucking your mouth the wet muscle. the sound of his soft, dark laughter reached your ears after he heard you whine against him. you were beginning to become lightheaded the longer rafe’s hand compressed your trachea mercilessly. 

he was allowing just enough room for you to not pass out from lack of air, but the finger against your jugular veins was preventing oxygen from reaching your brain.

leaving you with a few sporadic, wet pecks, he pulled away only slightly to observe your less than lively state. his lips were glistening with moisture, and you could feel spit dribbling down your own chin from your inability to swallow the saliva that had been gathering in your mouth. the blond’s face went stoic again and pulled you back to him, lips just barely brushing against yours.

“you see how i just had your life in my hands? how scared you felt knowing that i could’ve just crushed your throat if i wanted to?” the grip over your neck had finally loosened and you did your best to not pant against his face as your breathing steadied itself. 

you remained silent but rafe watched you expectantly, clearly awaiting an actual response and not the stupid, wide-eyed expression you carried. you nodded at him weakly, stray tears sliding down your face as you blinked your eyes clear of them.

“i’m not joking.” he whispered against your parted lips, eyes low and jaw clenching for just a second before speaking again. “i will fuck you up, and i mean that.”

[st-el-la-luna]

Syrupy Sweet: Nasty Baker! Soap x Reader

tumblr deleted the orgininal for whatever reason. Luckily I tracked down a reblog. Edited and added some new stuff (love tumblr for deleting my most popular post, rip my 600+ notes 😔)

NSFW 18+

Soap is forced into an early retirement. He gets a job at a small bakery. And that's where he meets you

➔ gn!afab!reader (described as having boobs & wearing a bra), creepy soap, pervy soap, obsessive soap, lust at first sight, non/dub-con cum eating, dirty thoughts, fantasizing, humping inanimate objects, coming in panta

After so many years working in the military, serving his country. Protecting the people of the world from danger. The last thing Soap expected waas tyo be discharged so suddenly and with so little warning.

Too much time working with explosives has affected his hearing. A bad knife wound, or a torn Achilles tendon. A bad break that never healed right. A couple of head injuries too many. 

"An early retirement," they'd called it. Forced retirement more like it. They won't even tell him why, just that he's, "no longer fit for active duty," and that he should be grateful that they, "got him such a nice deal. That he gets to keep his pension."

He’s bitter about it, understandably, He likes his job. He’s good at it. They can’t be serious about this! His performance hasn’t been hindered. 

Regardless of the reason, in spite of his arguments, Soap is benched, permanently. Price is apologetic, Ghost is... Distant, though that's to be expected. Gaz promises to keep in touch. And he does keep in touch, they all do. 

But it’s ot the same. Soap still feels lonely. Bored. He doesn’t know what to do with himself or all the time he suddenly has on his hands. Doesn’t know how to operate without the adrenaline rush, without something to occupy his hands and minds. He figures that, maybe, he should get a job. A civilian job. Not one of those cushy desk jocky jobs Price had offered him out of pity, Soap wants a job far removed from the military. Really reintegrate himself into normal, civvie life. 

After a bit of searching along the drizzly cobbled Glasgowian streets, Soap finds a little coffee shop and bakery nearby. A tiny, quaint little thing, run by a sweet old woman who just doesn't have the energy to keep the doors open on her own. 

The place is situated on a street corner, tucked away from the busy traffic-filled streets. A soft bell jingles when the door opens. The sign is hsand painted. The place, though clearly aged, is well looked after, loved. The wood floors and counters shine; the tables and chairs, though antique, are comfortable, well made; plants hang from the ceiling; and a couple bookshelves line a wall, a leave a book take a book community library. 

Soap applies for the position and despite his lack of experience, he gets the job. Something about him reminding the old woman of her own son. 

At first, Soap worked there with her. Learning the ins and outs of the trade. How to make meringue and bread and macrons and creme brûlé. It's not easy, not at first, but with practice and time, he gets the hang of it. 

He figures it's because of his experience with explosives and chemistry. Baking is... Kind of the same thing. 

Eventually, he's left to tend to the day-to-day affairs of the bakery. The woman still writes all the recipes and makes some of the breads. But he's the one managing the front of the house. 

It's where he meets you. 

Sweet. Kind. Polite. Breathtaking. Irresistible. Sexy. You. 

You come tumbling into the warm bakery on a day when the weather is particularly bad, even for Scotland. Strong winds, cold rains threatening to turn to hail, thunder rumbling in the distance. 

You're soaked to the bone. Hair dripping. Shoes leaving puddles in your wake as each of your steps is announced by a wet squish. Your full cheeks bitten by the cold, fingertips numb, you offer him a blinding smile. 

He's more focused on your tits though. And your bra. Visible through your thin, now see-through, shirt. Black lace. He can see how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take. He can even see a small mole, or maybe a birthmark, on the swell just above the cup of your bra. He wants to sink his teeth into you. Wants to suck that mark into his mouth, chew and lick at it, make it bigger. Make it his. Make you his.  

He's drooling a little, he realizes absently. 

"Hey," you say softly, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. Hands curled into adorable little sweater paws as you try to wipe your wet hands off on your equally wet pants. 

Soap just stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Shell shocked. He... He’s never... You’re so... He... Holy fuck. 

Eventually, he clears his throat and manages a smile, stepping a bit closer to the counter so he can hide the growing tent in his pants. He forces himself to meet your eyes, rather than stare at your chest. 

But they’re staring at me, his innermost thoughts whine, wanton and airy in his mind. So desperate for attention... for love... ready to be suckled and bit and groped and pinched... 

Johnny leans forward, elbows resting on the counter and chuckles, flashing you an easy, charming smile. "Hey... Looking for something to warm you up?" 

Please say you've already found what you're looking for. Please say you want him to warm you up. With his hands. His mouth. His cock. Please say– 

"Yeah... Do you guys do hot chocolates?" 

"It's not on the menu, but I've got my own stash in the back," he says as he looks you up and down. But how could you blame him? What with your... everything! This is your fault, honestly. Dirty, dirty, little thing, wearing a white shirt in the rain. You know what you’re doing. Something sinister and heated bubbles in his gut. A thick, molten, syrupy desire, a primal need. A sort of instinctive pull, a fish lured in by the soft glow of an angler fish. A moth to a flame. Helpless but to stare, slack jawed, and fighting back drool, as you stare up at him expectantly, He smiles, his lips spreading further as he notices your flustered state, how you shift under his stare, biting your lip as he looks you up and down. Logically, it’s a nervous reaction. But, in Soap’s quickly spiraling mind, it’s a clean indicator that you want him too. "I'll make one, special for you, darling." 

Your eyes sparkle, your smile tears the breath from his lungs. "Really? Oh my god, thank you." 

Soap grabs a mug from the shelf and twirls it around his finger. He pulls up his sleeves, bunching them around his mid biceps. He flexes, purposefully, showing off the hard-earned muscles in his arms, the scars, the prominent veins, his big, strong hands. Hands that would look so perfect around your neck. Or holding your wrists. Or deep between your shaking legs reaching deep and good, far past anything you could reach on his own. He wonders if you’re a crier. He hopes that you are. 

Soap notices the way your eyes fall to the newly exposed skin. The way your jaw drops a little. The way you close your mouth. The way you glance away before quickly looking back. The way your throat bobs when you swallow... 

Holy shit. 

He can give you something else to swallow if you'll let him. Please let him. 

He rolls his hips against the counter and lets out a stuttering breath through his nose. His lips part. His tongue feels thick and leaden in his mouth. 

A moan bubbles in his throat, he disguises it as a cough. "Can..." He swallows another noise as he shifts his stance, achingly cock pressed against the teeth of his zipper. He makes a show of dusting the counter off, acting like he's tossed something into the bin so he can adjust his pants. "Can I get you anything else?" 

Your eyes, gorgeous eyes, scan the menu and the display. "A cinnamon bun?" You ask, pointing to the delicacy through the glass case. "Please and thank you." 

"You're in luck," he says, rutting against the counter again, as quick and harsh as he can without drawing attention. A part of him thoough, a sick, twisted, part of him that quickly spreads his mind like a weed, corrupting and poisoning, wants you to notice. Wants you to catch him. To punish him. "Just made a fresh batch... I've just got to head back and ice them." 

"Oh, I'm fine with one of them from the display, you don't need to trouble yourself." 

Oh, and how sweet you are... 

You keep chewing on your bottom lip. Part of him wants to stop you, tell you that that’s his job. Wants to bite your lips until they’re raw and swollen. 

He's fucked. Well and truly fucked. 

He smiles. You’re blissfully ignorant of the darkness lurking in his eyes. "No trouble at all... It's my pleasure." 

And it is his pleasure. Very much so. 

He comes out a bit later, a little out of breath. A little red in the face. A couple buttons undone on his shirt. 

"Hot in there," he says with a smile, setting the mug and a cinnamon bun on the counter in front of you. He sets another little plate down, a doughnut. Chocolate frosting with a cream filling, the sticky white substance still pouring from the hole. 

"I uh, I didn't order that," you say with a little, awkward laugh. "The doughnut." 

"I know you didn't, sweet thing... It's a new recipe I've been trying out. Trying to get right... Mind telling me what you think? It's free of charge, promise." 

"Oh," you blink, staring up at him with those wide eyes. God, how he wants to see those eyes watering. How he wants to see those eyes tearing up as you choke on his cock. How he wants to see you cry as he fucks you. You smile. "Thank you!" 

You pay for your drink and dessert and blink up at him from under your lashes. Your smile turns shy as you chew your lip. Stop it. Stop it. You’re going to make him lose his mind. You have to know what you’re doing to him. You have to. "Keep the change." 

He smiles. "Thanks." 

You find a seat in the corner and settle in the corner with a book. Soap keeps an eye on you the whole time. Watches you as much as he can without attracting unwanted attention. 

His cock throbs in his pants when he sees you take your first bite of the cinnamon roll. When you wipe at the icing with your thumb and lick it clean. He watches with delight as you eat and drink, rolling his hips against the counter in time with the bobbing of your throat as you swallow. 

Soap watches you with rapt attention as you enjoy the desserts. His lips parted, jaw slack, drooling. He wonders if he could convince you to lick it away. He is so glad that he stopped by the office to record the security footage. He’s going to be watching this over and over and... Fuck! 

With a final grind of his aching cock against the counter, his boxers are flooded with a wet, sticky warmth. He mourns it going to waste like that. His cum belongs in you. Your tight pussy, round ass, past your full lips. 

"How was it?" He asks, breathless, when you return your dishes to the counter. He shifts his stance, hiding the wet spot in his pants. He's not embarrassed that he came in his pants just from watching how your throat moves as you swallow. At watching the way that you lave your tongue over your fingers, licking the thick glaze away with a spit-slicked tongue. 

He just doesn't want to weird you out. 

"It was amazing," you say. "I really liked the balance of the sweet with the salty... Sometimes the sugar is just... Too much." 

"I agree," Soap says, breathless. He swallows a lump in his throat. "I agree." 

You become a regular from then on. He always gets you freshly baked items, from the back. No matter how busy. 

He's not supposed to alter the recipes. But he doubts the lady will mind that he made a change. All he did was put a little love into the recipes. A little bit of himself in the sour cream glaze. 

Keep your eyes peeled for a part 1.5 involving what soap did in the back room!

Comments and reblogs help motivate!

Masterlist!

[somber-sapphic]

Snow Daze

〖Summary: Shoveling snow while sick is a nightmare combination.〗

〖Word Count: 2.1k〗

〖Pairing: Wanda x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Sorry it took so long to get this done, I got sick and couldn't write for the life of me. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and feel free to send me an ask if you'd like to read anything!〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Waking up to fresh snowfall brought different reactions for everyone. Some felt joy upon seeing their ordinary world coated in white, they loved the whimsy that came with the weather. To others it was more frustrating. It was a chore that had to be dealt with as early as possible to make room for the day. You fell into the latter category.

When you woke up on what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning you were less than thrilled to see a blanket of snow covering the yard, driveway and cars. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy the snow, you loved watching it fall in large fluffy flakes and every so often you would have a snowball fight with the avengers. Really you loved the snow, but you hated the cleanup. You hated it more with a stuffy nose and a dull ache in your body that clearly indicated that you were getting sick.

There was this little competition among the heroes about who could shovel the most snow, it was their way of turning a chore into a fun workout. You didn’t find it nearly as fun as them. You would rather just get the damn job over with without all of the smack talk and teasing, but they insisted on it.

Wanda had gotten so tired of their antics that she’d dubbed herself ‘maker of the hot coca’ to get out of it. Natasha loved it, she felt great when she could beat the superhumans at anything and generally just enjoyed competition. You participated only because you were a relatively new member of the team (compared to the others) and didn’t want to make yourself look weak.  

Staring out at the vast expanse that was the Avengers Compound driveway you couldn’t help but feel a bit of self-pity. You had just woken up and you were already feeling awful. Your nose was so stuffy that you couldn’t breathe through it, but it was also running. Your throat burned every time you swallowed, and you were sure that the cough that would be coming would make it hurt even worse.

It wasn’t like you had much of a choice though, you could hear Steve beginning to yell at everyone to get up and dressed for 20-degree weather. With a harsh sneeze you began to get ready, pulling on the warmest clothes you could find which included doubles of everything. Even with the two layers you were shivering hard, unable to get warm.

You stared at yourself in the small mirror, studying the dark smudges under your eyes and the sickly pallor of your face. Your nostrils were already rimmed red from rubbing them and your lips were badly chapped. Whatever this was it was hitting fast and hard.

A loud knock startled you out of your daze and back into reality. You shuffled to your door, hindered by the extra layers and your own dizziness. Opening it revealed an excited looking Steve with a big smile on his face and wearing winter clothes.

“You ready Y/n? It looks heavy!” He greeted, grinning at you. His joyful tone was baffling, but you were determined to prove yourself as an individual with no powers and far less experience than the others.

“Lets do this.” You croaked, confirming that you sounded as bad as you felt. Steve’s eyebrow twitched and his expression morphed into one of concern, but you brushed it off with a quiet cough and a smile.

“Sorry, my throat is a little dry. I think I need to talk to FRIDAY about increasing the humidity in here.” You said, offering an easy explanation for what could easily be a fluke. The cough had done wonders to clear your throat and you didn’t sound quite as awful. A bit nasally, but not like death.

Cap nodded enthusiastically, too focused on the idea of what he was sure would be an intense workout to really notice the state you were in. If you said you were fine, he was in no place to question you.

“Lets do this!”

You grabbed your coat and followed the superhero out of your bedroom where you practically ran into a very tired looking Wanda. The witch wasn’t sure why it was so important for her to be awake as she was only making cocoa for everyone, but the boys had refused to give her peace.

When she saw you, her eyes went wide, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. The way she looked at you with worry and love, it was just something you’d never seen before meeting her.

When you first joined the team, she had been incredibly kind to you, she’d understood your fear and done everything to make you feel welcome. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall head over heels for her. Thankfully she could read your mind otherwise you never would’ve gotten the courage to ask her out.

“Y/n, are you okay? You look…not great.” She said softly, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone else. You smiled again and nodded slightly, wondering if she could tell that you were lying. You had always been good at it, but you knew that she could sense emotions without trying if they were strong enough.

“I’m fine. I just woke up, that’s it. Will you put marshmallows in my hot cocoa?” You asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. The brunette hummed quiet concern, but nodded after a moment and squeezed your hand.

“Of course, baby. Come inside if you need a break, okay? No need to put yourself at risk for a chore, it will get done.” She kissed you, her soft red lips brushing gently against yours. You did the best you could to return the kiss, but it was everything you could do not to fall apart. The last place you wanted to be was outside in the freezing cold, you wanted to be with Wanda who was comfortable and warm. Later you’d find yourself wishing that you gave into that want.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A chesty cough bubbled from your lips as you threw another shovel full of heavy wet snow over your shoulder, but this time you did nothing to suppress it. You no longer cared if someone heard you, you were tired and cold. It had been two hours of moving piles of incredibly heavy snow and you were barely halfway done.

Natasha glanced over at you but said nothing. She’d been watching you deteriorate for a while now but didn’t want to force you inside when you were being so stubborn. She had internally decided that if you didn’t go in soon, she would get Wanda to come get you.

 The boys were getting even more competitive as they got bored, and Clint had started throwing snowballs. You were thankful that you were on the other side of the driveway away from that nonsense.

One thing your slightly feverish brain hadn’t considered was that the others might retaliate. What had started as one man throwing a few snowballs had turned into a full-blown snowball fight in less than a minute. You tried to avoid your teams’ antics and just continue with the snow removal, but it was too late for that.

Before you could think to react one very well packed snowball slammed you in the face and another hit the back of your head. You froze as icy slush slid down your back and chest, bypassing your jacket to soak into your soft cotton undershirt. You stared at Steve who had thrown the one that hit your face with an expression of shock and anger that was barely masking tears.

You threw the shovel down and whipped around, a wave of spots dancing in your vision as you began to march back toward the front doors. You glared daggers at Clint who had thrown the other snowball and flipped them both off as you trudged your way through the snow, hot tears beginning to drip down your freezing cheeks.

When you got inside you didn’t even bother taking off your boots, you just stomped through the foyer and to the elevator, pushing the button you knew would get you to the kitchen and your girlfriend.

“Mx. Y/l/n, your vitals indicate—”

“Shut up FRIDAY.” You snapped, coughing aggressively into your elbow as you waited the few seconds for the elevator to get to your floor. You didn’t care what the AI had to say, you knew that you were sick, and you were so angry that all you really wanted to do was scream.

When you finally made it to the kitchen the snow had begun to melt. You stood in front of Wanda dripping and shivering, doing everything you could to keep yourself from sobbing.

“Oh love, you’re freezing.” The brunette breathed, shaking her head as she rushed to comfort you. She began to take off your coat and you just let her. The tears coming faster as her aura of compassion washed over you, reassuring you that you weren’t alone.

The young Sokovian woman set your coat on a chair and pulled you in for a hug, giving you silent permission to break down. You did just that and buried your head in her shoulder as you began to sob out your frustration at the world. Wanda held you like that, crying coughing and sneezing for probably five minutes before she pulled away, seeming not to care that you’d ruined her shirt.

“Come on Y/n/n, let’s get you in bed.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When she said that you expected to be brought to your bedroom, but instead you found her leading you to hers. Once there she helped you change into her softest pajamas and tucked you into her bed without a second thought.

The whole thing happened so fast that your fever clouded brain barely had time to catch up when Wanda left you alone only to return a moment later with a mug of tea.

“Here you go sweetheart. Drink this for me, it’ll warm you up.” Wanda said gently, pushing a mug into your hands. She had never made you any cocoa, she knew that you were getting sick and decided that tea would be best.

“Thanks.” You rasped, not sure what else to say. You’d never really been taken care of before and being sick around your girlfriend was strange. The relationship was still on the newer side, so you were worried about doing something wrong and messing it up.

The witch kissed your forehead and took her seat beside you on the soft bed. She wrapped a blanket around your trembling shoulders and made quiet noises of concern as she fussed, something you found yourself enjoying. It was nice to feel cared for and she did it better than anyone else.

“How about we watch a show while you warm up?” She suggested reaching for the remote on her bedside table. You nodded silently and wiped your nose on your sleeve, your throat hurt, and you weren’t really up to talking anymore. Wanda tilted her head at your action and placed a box of tissues in your lap with a little smile.

“Use these instead.” She directed, turning her attention to the TV. You obliged and grabbed a tissue to blow your nose which was definitely better than just wiping it.

Wanda flipped through channels and began to play with your hair as she did so, dragging her nails in patterns across your skull. The effect was amazing, you instantly felt calmer and settled against her even more, practically melting into her side.

You focused your eyes on whatever show she had put on; it was brightly colored and animated. It didn’t really matter to you what she decided to watch, you were too sick to pay attention to it.

You took a sip of the hot tea, relishing the way it soothed your throat and warmed your insides. The snow had been hell, but you were finally able to relax thanks to your amazing girlfriend. You vowed silently to repay the favor the next time she got sick and go above and beyond to take care of her the same way she was doing for you.

[phyrestartr]

Man of Worship (P.1) | Zagreus x M!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 |

w/c: 2.3k #NSFW themes, demigod reader, eventual polyamory, traumatic past, healing from trauma, mentions of dub-con, mentions of suicide, hurt/comfort, boys being boys, toxic parents, olympic gods doing typical olympic god bs

Note: SO this is basically a rework of Rhubarb, even though I still want to pursue the rest of Rhubarb with that particular reader character, HOWEVER I generally make two or three versions of the same story while I'm brainstorming, and I ended up digging into more Greek mythos while looking for inspo and BOOM.

ANYWAY I didn't tag for this since it's a new fandom I'm writing for, but if you'd like to be tagged, pls feel free to leave a comment!! I'll update my tag form thing in a moment too :D I hope this is a fun read!!

--

1. A Gardener?

He noticed first the flutter of feathered wings. It was an odd thing to hear in the underworld, and even odder still to hear it come from the outer gardens–the place poor, pitiful Zagreus was barred from. 

Father won't tell me anything of this. And that was true--Hades was anything but straightforward and honest with his son. So, to the real parent of the house was where the prince went.

“Erm, Nyx?” Zagreus asked, shooting glances back at the iron gates as he met his mother-figure. “I've got a question for you, if you don't mind.”

“I do not mind. I will do my best to answer, my child.” She watched him with eased attention, then followed his gaze to the forbidden outdoors. “Is something the matter?” 

“No–well, maybe? Not sure, but. Well.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Just–are there birds out in the garden?” 

Nyx blinked. “Birds?” 

“Yes. I keep hearing something fluttering around every now and then, and I swear I've seen something moving around in the garden. You know, the one I'm not allowed to enter?” 

“Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Of course. There is a new servant of the house, one who was chosen to tend to the gardens.”  

“Really.” Zagreus planted his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze returning to the forbidden area. “Well, that's the first I've heard of it.” 

“He does not linger long; he arrives with the sun, and leaves only when the work is done,” Nyx explained. “He is a diligent helper of the House. Your father is quite pleased, I've noticed.” 

“Well, I've never thought that Father could be pleased in any regards.” Zagreus’ mismatched gaze flickered back to Nyx. “But why now? The garden's never needed a tender before.”

“A flower wilted,” Nyx sighed, looking aside. “And your father has grown concerned.”

“Hah. Concerned for the plants? Good to know he can still give a damn about something,” Zagreus bit, sending a scalding glare to the throne. “Guess that's why he locked it up, kept it from me.”

Night smiled, sympathetic. “You do have a reputation.”

“One that I must uphold,” he agreed, heart light and spirit lifted higher. “Thank you, Nyx. I should get back to ransacking my father's domain.”

Nyx nodded sagely and reached a hand up, fixing the tilt of Zagreus’ burning laurel. “I would hope for nothing less, my child.” 

–

“You play music?” 

Your voice startled Zagreus, sending a Zeus-like jolt through him and holding him in place with a fit of numbing static. Thankfully, however, twas not the true bite of the sky king, and Zagreus had the luxury to back out of his room a few paces. 

“You heard?” He asked, face somehow both paling and burning in tandem.

You, whilst leaning against the iron gate, nodded. “‘N if I did?”

“Oh.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “That's unfortunate. Sorry for the bother.”

“Don't misunderstand me, god.” Your spectral eyes bore into him with easy confidence. Zagreus quite liked that look. “You played much like a dying pigeon at first, I'll admit, but you've improved.” 

Zagreus laughed and approached you. Your dry informality pricked him with intrigue. “Well, now I know you're lying.”

“Lies are useless for those who need the truth.” Your words came so bold, the prince had no choice but to believe you. “I can hear it. The notes–they come easier to you. Sweeter, even. Like figs ripe on the tree.” 

“Figs?” Zagreus tilted his head much like Cerberus might. “Huh. Can't say I've had one of those.” 

“Really? Well, then I shall see to it that you wonder no longer, god.” You leaned away, nearly out of sight of the iron-barred gateway, and jostled through the leaves of a bush or tree of sorts before the sharp snap of something announced your return. 

You stuck your arm through a gap in the fence, one where your glowing skin was threatened by a cascade of decorative thorns, but you didn't much care. That care, instead, found itself funneled into the deliverance of a ripe fig to the prince of the underworld, it seemed. 

Zagreus stared for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving gifts unless he bestowed one upon another, first. To him, this almost felt like–could it be--

“If you don't take it in the next three seconds, I'm going to eat it myself and not hand you another,” you groused.

“Hah.” He snatched the fruit from your hand. “You wouldn't dare.” 

“I've dared much worse, god, believe me.” You withdrew your hand and drummed your palms against the iron. “Well, enjoy. And be sure to clean your hands before touching that lyre again.” You looked him over, face placid as it'd been for his entire short history knowing you–but your eyes, the strange things, they hinted at hidden curiosities. “I'll be listening.” 

–

“Say, Meg, do you know much about the new House attendant?” Zagreus asked, flourishing his Stygian blade as he walked towards the Fury, prepared to fight after a quick chat.

Megaera's eyes narrowed. “You're talking about the flirt.”

“The flirt?” Zagreus rested his sword down, digging its diamond tip into the cracked ground. “Is that really what he's known for? Flirting? He doesn't seem like the type.”

A heavy sigh left Meg. “Ask Than. He might be more willing to endure your rambling and answer questions. I am not.” 

“You know, I think we really need to work on your patience.” Still, he flicked up his blade of the underworld, and lunged first. 

–

As the Fates would have it, Thanatos was already at the House. Even more fateful, still, was where he stood–not by the river Styx, no, but by the garden’s gate for a change. Death's presence on that side of the house seemed…odd, despite his infrequent visits to the lounge. Never before did he show interest in a coworker, neither, not unless it was his twin who needed some firm and stringent guidance. 

“Admiring the flowers?” Zagreus asked, and Death flinched. 

“No, I–” He sighed, and spared a look over his shoulder. “What do you want, Zagreus?” 

The shorter one shrugged, and stood beside his age-old friend. “Came to find you. Is that so odd?” 

“If you're going to shove more nectar in my hands, then you can forget it.” Thanatos looked away again and scowled beyond iron bars. “You've made your bed.”

Zagreus stifled a sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I–well–in all honesty, I had a question, one that I'd hoped you could answer.”

“Then ask.”

“Right to the point then.” Zagreus cleared his throat and shuffled closer to Death. “Who exactly is the new gardener? Meg said you might know.” 

Thanatos graced him with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you'd know by now.”

Zagreus shrugged. “I wouldn't be asking if I knew.” 

“He is–” Death paused, his jaw tightening, tendons threatening to snap. “Why do you want to know?”

Zagreus convinced himself not to pry. “We haven't had a new servant of the House in, well, eternities. Father wouldn't allow just anyone in here.” 

“Sure, but don't you think you should ask him yourself?”

“It's hard to catch him. He's quite flighty, as Fate would have it. Must be the wings.” 

“Must be.” Zagreus swore he heard the inkling of a smile on those words. “Well, I don't think it's fair for me to spoil the introduction. But I will say this–he was a servant of the House in life, and now continues on in death.” 

“Really?” Zagreus couldn't quite wrap his head around it. How could someone be devoted to the house before even arriving?

“Yes. He made my job easier, in some regards. Assisted, at the very least,” Death said.

“Huh.” Zagreus crossed his arms and scuffed his sole against time-worn stone. “Guess that explains that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go into elaborate detail regarding what exactly our avian gardener did in life to earn yours and Father's favour? Or, even just his name?” 

“No.” A luminous wash of turquoise licked off Death's shoulders, his scythe. “Ask him yourself. I've work to do.”

And with the toll of a bell, he was gone. 

–

It took a while to catch you again. Apparently, you kept to a strict, self-imposed schedule that Zagreus couldn't even begin to understand despite its simplicity. Nyx told him you arrived come morning, at the very least. That may have been helpful, if Zagreus could tell the damn time in the underworld. 

So, he resorted to guessing; if he could not find you through the convenience of your daily routine, he'd swing by whenever he died. He was bound to run into you at some point. 

And he did. It was when he wandered to the lounge, eager to deliver a wealth of fish to the head chef, that he caught the ghostly sound of feathers against leaves.

Zagreus backed out of the lounge in time to see your curious glance. A rush pulsed through him–finally, finally, he'd get his chance to interrogate you.

“Hey!” He called. 

“Hey,” You called back. 

“Just--don’t go anywhere. I need to hand over some river denizens and then I need to speak with you,” Zagreus rambled off as quickly as he could. 

Your brows furrowed, but you offered a shallow nod. “I'll wait up.”

With that, Zagreus sped by the gossiping Meg and Dusa and a gaggle of other patrons to all but throw his catch to the head chef. It was a good haul today. Hopefully that meant–ah ha. 

Zagreus rolled the bottle of nectar over in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he sang, and ran off, tucking the gift away before approaching the iron bars.

You were toiling away, a little farther in the garden than before, but not too far to escape the prince's presence. It gave him a chance to take a good look at you: simple black chiton on a well-muscled frame, wings full of bronze feathers, wild hair tied back into the smallest of ponytails. You looked quite ordinary, save for the wings. 

But your eyes had been strange: they glowed. Not with the morose cold of Ixion, but with the exact opposite. Warm. Bronze. Sunlit, maybe. He'd never known sunlight, but you must have kept a drop of it in your very soul.

“So?” You said as you meandered back to him. You walked with unbothered confidence, much different to Zagreus’ sprightly impatience. “What important matters must we discuss?”

“Your name, first of all,” the prince requested. “I am Zagreus, son of Hades and--"

“Prince of the underworld,” you added. “Well, I figured you were him. Good to have a proper introduction, I suppose.” You took a breath. “As for me, you'll call me (Name).” 

Zagreus repeated the name. It held a fullness in his mouth, something sweet and foreign, too much like the fig you'd offered him not too long ago. Maybe you were the minor god of figs (wouldn't that be something?).

“Pleased to meet you, then. I trust the garden will be well-kept in your capable hands. And wings,” Zag said. “Oh! And, ah, here--a token of thanks for your hard work.”

Your brows raised and Zagreus’ chest filled with hope; for once, your blank mask changed, and you looked less like a gorgon-born statue and more like a human. Somehow, it gave him relief.

But your expression crumpled into furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Nectar?” You wondered aloud. 

Zagreus nodded and slipped the bottle best he could through the gap. “Yes, I…I hope you will take it, if it pleases you.”

You examined the bottle as it slipped into your hand and leaned a shoulder up against the gate. “Odd. Why is it in the underworld?”

The tension left Zagreus’ muscles as you accepted the gift. “Not a clue. Maybe Olympus ferries some down here from time to time to try and liven things up.”

“Hah.” The mock laughter almost sounded genuine. “Dionysus would, from what I've heard of him.” You held the bottle up, watching the light reflect shards of gold and ghostly greens. “He's not so bad, that god of wine.” 

“You've met him?” Zagreus wondered.

“No,” you admitted. Your light-filled eyes found him again. “But I've met gods, when I once lived. No man should have to meet them. They bring misfortune, even the supposed good ones.” 

The prince took a sure step forward, and your eyes steeled. “Well, you're right about Dionysus,” he assured instead of scorned. “He's good. I'm sure he's had his moments, still. But I get on with him well.” I'm sure you would, too, he decided against saying; the more he took in your features, the more he realized the god's work carved into you, painting you unnatural colours and robbing you of something only humans could have. He didn't think you'd much enjoy being forced into a hypothetical with them. 

“Then I shall take your word for it,” you said. “And I will pretend this bottle comes from Dionysus, to make it more palatable.”

“Well, whatever pleases you.” Zagreus smiled and leaned against the wall by the gate. “But, if I may ask, which gods have you–”

“Boy,” Hades’ voice thundered, echoing down the hall. “Do not disturb the rest of the House and distract them from their duties. Unlike you, they do not wish to disappoint.” 

Zagreus clicked his tongue and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, Father. I'll get right to ignoring every blasted person in this damn House. Perhaps I'll consider a life of solitude while I'm at it!” 

“Do not test me further, boy.”

Zagreus rolled his eyes, but gave in, finding your (gentler?) eyes once again. “Well. I'd more than happily argue with my father all day–or night–about this, but I wouldn't want you to bear the punishment.” 

You nodded a little and glanced from the prince back down to the bottle. “I appreciate this, princeling.”

“It's nothing, really.” Though Zagreus did indeed beam with delight. “Well, then I'll leave you to your work.”

“Be sure to come back. I need to return the favour,” you said as you turned. “Until then, princeling.”

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Chapter IIII

You guys are really swimming through these polls. Maybe I made it too easy for you, but you got it right again! We are nearing the end, and finally, we make our escape from our captors. Enjoy!

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Mermen x GN!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Monsters, Violence (Fighting and getting attacked), Butchering a fish, Dub-con touches/kisses, Animalistic behavior, Mention of claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death, Long post

"Human~"

The voice in your head echoed far and clear through your dreams of muddy waters and shadow creatures. It was the only thing able to pull you from those nightmares plaguing you, with its melodic up and down of a whisper, the sound vibrating in your chest as if it were a part of you. Something wrapped around your shin, large and cold, heating up as it made contact with your skin, and you pulled your legs upwards instinctively, trying to flee from the grabby hands, only to get blocked by a large weight pinning you down.

A brief moment of confusion passed your tired mind, your body heavy and rigid from the hard sleep on the stone ledge that, for a moment, you wanted to cry from being awoken much too early to fully rest. Somewhere in your circling thoughts, you must have passed out despite your hesitations to sleep around these intriguing but threatening creatures, too exhausted from everything that happened to you the previous day and the seal fur luring you in like a siren's song. 

"Human." 

This time, the call had already shattered through your dreams, hooking your conscience and pulling it back to reality. You awoke with crusts gluing your eyelids together, remnants of the salty water you never got to wash off. But when you wanted to reach up, you found your arms pinned to the ground you were lying on, forcing you to open your eyes without the help of a good rub. Your view wasn't great, though, as you were faced with darkness, not even the blue shimmers of light getting beneath the body that was covering you. 

There was never a moment without horror when you were around these strange, unpredictable creatures. But the loss of your movement and the weight feeling ever so crushing on top of you certainly put the cherry on top. Your mouth—one of the few things able to move—opened before you could even think about screaming, but just as quickly, it was covered by lips not your own. 

You made a pitiful quaking sound as a tongue slipped over yours, straight towards your throat. There was little room to struggle with this huge body on top of you, but you still did your best to flail your arms and legs, only to be shut down by much stronger limbs. Sharp teeth grazed your tongue and lips when you tried to close off the access to your mouth, reminding you of the predicament of their bites, the taste of iron and fish filling your panicked senses.

Until you had to take a breath. You were close to tears when you realized you were suffocating from the kiss, unable to gasp or fill your lungs until desperation forced you to inhale. The other tongue paused, waiting as you took your breath, both of your bodies shuddering as you received the sweet, sweet air you needed. Your eyes had squeezed shut as there was only darkness to see either way, but now that the tension in your body began to fade in confusion, you forced them open.

The amber of Nerrocan's eyes seemed almost like a glowing green as it reflected the faint blue lights of the cave plants, allowing their light to overtake the darkness. He allowed you to breathe through him a few more times before he awkwardly kissed you, creating some space between your mouth until only the sounds of sloppy, wet smooches rang out. His gaze fixated somewhere below your own eyes as he licked over your—blunt in comparison—teeth and sucked in your tongue, the feeling of his sharp ones making you flinch in surprise. Feeling your reaction, he pulled away with a jolt, replacing his lips with his hand before you had time to react.

"Don't," he warned, the sound curt and blunt. Not at all melodic like you were used to their voices by now. Don't scream, you figured from his order, and when his eyes moved to the side, so did yours, Nerrocan softening his hand clasped over half of your face so you could turn your head. 

Sprawled out to your sides were the other two mermen. You'd never have expected them to sleep so soundly next to you. However, you heard Krill let out whistling snores when he breathed out, and looking at Lyr, a bit of drool dripped from his lips, indicating the two were truly asleep. 

"They only just entered deep sleep. We have to be very quiet," Nerrocan whispered, even leaning down to the side of your head to speak into your ear. His closeness brought back the tension, shivers running down your spine. But you nodded into his palm, and he didn't question you before lowering his hand. 

"I will take you to the humans."

Your eyes widened in surprise as you listened intently to every word he murmured into your ear. "But…" you mumbled, barely moving your lips. He'd be able to hear you, no matter the volume of your voice. Glancing back over to the other two for a moment, your furrowed your brows as you looked at Nerrocan, finding his gaze to be on them too. For a moment, you thought you saw a flash of sadness cross his features as he looked at his pack, but other than you, he shook off the doubts before leaning down once more.

"Now. Be quiet."

Questions shot into your mind as Nerrocan slowly descended into the pool of water, using all his strength in his arms to temper the movement and slide into the wet soundlessly. Part of you was skeptical as you sat up, watching Nerrocan very openly take precautions from the others, apparently betraying them, considering how careful he was to be secretive. It made little sense for him to act this way, especially considering he was never the most interested in you either. Your questions about the why and how didn't help soothe the doubts that suddenly rose inside you, whether you should trust this guy more than anyone else. 

You gulped as he held out his webbed hand towards you, a serious expression on his face while most of his body was already submerged in the water. Waiting for you. Expecting no more delay from you who wanted this in the first place. Nerrocan said nothing while your thoughts were hissed in his voice, an illusion of your own nervous uncertainty. You want this. This might be your only chance.

And the others didn't care. 

They didn't need to spit this fact into your face to make it any more true than you already knew it was. Neither Krill nor Lyr cared or wanted to care for what you wanted, and neither of these possibilities was any less hurtful. They might look human (at least for half of their body), but they weren't. And there was no reason for them to help you. 

But what reasons did Nerrocan have? Why would he help you and go against their united front? Why go to these lengths for a human he seemed to harbor no sympathy for, either?

You didn't have a choice this time.

Shrugging off the seal fur you used as a blanket, you peered nervously at the sleeping predators of this sea, the two looking almost peaceful, with no worries on their minds. They were different from you, and, looking at Nerrocan, he was different from them too. 

On all fours, you crawled slowly, quietly, biting your lip whenever a pebble pressed into your palm or shin to keep yourself quiet, over to him. When you reached out your arm, his wet skin slid along your hand, up your wrist, forearm, to your upper arm, where it wrapped around. Nerrocan lifted himself out of the water while he pulled you towards him, your faces only inches apart when you realized he tilted his head and readied another kiss. 

You didn't want that! But he held you steady as he pressed his lips to yours, tongue slipping out to lick over your closed-off mouth, asking for entry. "Air," he breathed, and you scrunched up your face as you realized what he meant. You'd have to dip down into the ocean again. There'd be no saying how long you'd be stuck there if you wanted to try to hold your breath by yourself, so you needed to rely on him. To him, it was just a way of offering you air, but to you, it was much more meaningful. As if he was asking you to trust and allow him to protect you, making you feel vulnerable and gullible. What if his intentions were malicious after all?

"Air!" he reiterated, this time hissing the word in urgency. 

Behind you, Krill grumbled as he turned on his side, his arm falling to where you had just laid. If he noticed you gone, he'd probably jolt from his sleep and catch you two trying to escape, neither of you getting out of this situation safely. Nerrocan was strong; you had no doubts. But you knew Krill was older. If it came down to it, it would be strength against experience, and you doubted Krill would be fighting alone. Nerrocan was putting himself against his whole pod, even though you had no idea why. But you, too, had to play your part if he was ready to go this far.

Finding hold on his arm, you reached out to wrap your other arm around his neck. It was much easier to get things over with when you closed your eyes, so you surrendered to the darkness as you pressed your lips to Nerrocan's, allowing him to overtake your mouth once more while his free arm snatched around your midriff. It all went by so fast. Nerrocan lifted you from the ledge and pressed you to his body as his kiss deepened, making you reliant on the air he breathed through his gills as he pulled you into the water.

The harsh cold shocked you, but inside the water, Nerrocan's body was finally warm again, just like the first time he pulled you down under. Strangely enough, this memory resurfaced now, the panic and fear you felt then replaced with a spark of determination and the desperation to escape and trust him. However, this time, Nerrocan let you go as he noticed you voluntarily moving your body toward him instead of putting up a fight. Finding the smallest spot on his torso, you wrapped your legs around it as best as possible, arms holding on to his neck and fingers sinking into his hair as if your life depended on it. He loosened the kiss only once, threatening to drown you, when he gasped as you clawed at his scalp, as you were afraid he might slip from you.

You didn't dare to open your eyes even once as Nerrocan put your bodies into movement, navigating you two through the ocean with strong strokes of his tail. Nerrocan's arm slid over your back, pressing you against him while you kissed for air, making you almost feel… safe. He used the other arm to steer through the waters he swam through vigorously but kept you safely against him at the same time, never again prying your lips apart to make you fearful of the ocean you were in. The longer you were tied to each other's lips, the more natural it became. As if his mouth was the diving gear you needed for air on an expedition. But had you opened your eyes, the only thing you had seen would have been his, as the reflection of the ocean darted by inside them, with no time to awe about the wonders of the sea. 

When you two finally breached the surface, your worries melted away in an instant.

You found yourself liberated from the shackles of the ocean, barely feeling the water around you anymore as you pushed yourself away from Nerrocan, breathing in the fresh air as deep as you could. He was surprised for a moment by your sudden, energetic push higher. Still, he quickly adjusted his hold to lift your whole torso out of the water. 

After four deliberate, long fills of fresh air, you finally opened your eyes, staring at the twinkling stars above. The sun hadn't risen yet, but the horizon had already colored itself in a warm pink, promising a beautiful day. The water was calm, and when you looked down, all you found was Nerrocan's eyes staring up at you, his head tilted back to reveal a smile playing on his lips. 

"You're really taking me back to the humans?" you croaked, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat. This was almost too good to be true. Nerrocan had already brought you back to the surface, a dreadful place had you been here alone, no land in sight for miles and miles. You'd probably never have made it alone, so you were thankful he was with you. But what if he was just playing with your feelings? Showing you your own helplessness?

"I will. I promised. I'll take care of you and protect you."

"But why?"

The question made the lump in your throat swell even more, and you realized it was accompanied by tears shooting into your eyes. Nerrocan was promising you hope, but your heart was already too fearful to allow it. "Why help me? Why go against Krill and Lyr?"

Lowering you a little bit, Nerrocan reached up, swiping a wet thumb over your cheekbone and collecting your tears. You laughed as you were now wetter than from crying, and he did it again as if he didn't understand why the tears wouldn't stop. But when you reached up to press his palm against the side of your face, he stopped, staring at where your skin met his with an intense focus. 

"I… don't know," he muttered, squinting his eyes suspiciously. For someone who always seemed very collected, he was much more expressive than you could have hoped for. You felt yourself trust him more when he showed his emotions openly. "I just know I have to bring you back. You want to go back, so that's what I have to do."

"Are you sure? You don't sound sure…"

"I am. I am unsure why I feel this way, but I am sure about what to do. And we must move now, or the others can catch up with us before sunrise."

It wasn't the answer you hoped for, the questions burning in your mind never being solved to your satisfaction. But you swallowed them for the sake of this escape. Nerrocan had proven himself trustworthy, and when you gave him a nod as his go, he pulled your hands from his shoulders where you had supported yourself and slipped underwater again. Only to emerge with his back facing you, directing your arms around his neck again. 

"As long as the sun isn't high in the sky yet, we can swim on the surface. But we'll have to go back underwater when it gets dangerous for you. Humans are vulnerable to the sunlight, right?"

"Yes," you confirmed without thinking, slowly hooking your arms around his neck and drawing closer to his body. "Yes, we are."

"You are very fragile," he noted, but there was no bite to his words, and you spotted a smile on his face as you peered around to the front. Next thing you knew, he had ducked his head into the water, pushing his body upwards for you to sit on. Nerrocan didn't need to tell you to wrap your legs around him as best as you could, hands falling to the space between his neck and shoulders before he began to push onwards. 

It wasn't easy to hold onto him, but you did your best, feeling like a cartoon character riding an oversized dolphin from the TV shows of your youth. There was some fun to it, but the moment your focus shifted anywhere else than your grip or the even but still fast pace you two had, you were sliding down his body like a slippery eel. Luckily, Nerrocan would always grip your legs in time to steady you until you found your place on top of him again, but you concluded that the trip to where you wanted to go would be an exhausting one. 

But at least, now you had a chance to make it.

By the time the sun had already gone down again, you were sore and desperate for a break. You had no idea how you made it through the whole day without a moment of calm since you two began your journey, with no food and only an embarrassing amount of saliva to swallow from Nerrocan to replace your need for water. Talking about water—you were sick of it already, and it had only been one day. 

"How long?" you gasped, wiping your face with your hands before planting them into the sand. 

"Two more days if we can keep up the pace of today."

Nerrocan eyed you suspiciously as you kneeled on the small island in the middle of the ocean, barely ten steps wide and only sand and stones. There was some fern in the middle of it, but you doubted it was edible. Clutching your stomach, you weren't sure if you were hungry or nauseated from hearing the news about how long you'd still need to endure this kind of travel. You wanted to be better than this, toughen up, and take it as the price you'd have to pay for surviving silently without complaints. Still, at the same time, you couldn't imagine making it through another two days like this. 

His eyes fell on your hand on top of your stomach, brows furrowing as he studied your sickly posture. "Wait here," Nerrocan instructed sternly. "Don't go anywhere without me."

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively. As if there was anywhere you could go other than the other side of this small, sandy beach island. All you wanted to do was sit on steady ground for a while, rest your sore muscles, and dry off your skin. Hopefully, you wouldn't suffer long-term injuries from staying in water for so long. Still, even that was something you considered a minor price to pay for returning to civilization in one piece.

It could have only been a few minutes, your mind almost immediately dozing off when you were left alone on the island before you heard the splashing sound of someone emerging from the water. You jerked awake, disorientated as you looked around, only to see Nerrocan crawling out of the water, a fish hanging from his mouth with blood dripping out of it. Who knew if it was edible, but when Nerrocan held it out to you, your stomach gave a small, pitiful growl, and you sighed at your own needs. 

You hesitated to take the fish as it was, complete with head and tail and entrails as you suspected. It also wasn't a species you'd usually enjoy at a restaurant. Nerrocan had bit his marks into the flesh, bleeding it out for you already, but when he noticed your hesitation, he paused, drawing the fish back. You never had the time to fully appreciate the merman, but the moonlight illuminated him like a god. Those trained muscles you had noticed before, moving and flexing as he moved, whether in the water or on land. They were perfectly accustomed to his needs, to whatever he needed to do, even though the bulky tail made for a heavy drag when he pulled himself onto land. His silky hair glowed in the white light, always moving, the long strands falling and curling over his body like waves caressing him. His eyes were razor sharp when he focused, beastly and predatory. But every time he looked at you, his expression relaxed, eyes softening as the tension fleeting. You could never tell what he was thinking, but you didn't mind his staring, his gaze so much more gentle than Krill's when it roamed your body. Around his hips was a leather strap, a net, and a small dagger hanging from it. The latter he pulled out, the blade looking dull and flat like a clam knife.

However, when he cut through the fish with the bare minimum of his strength, you realized it was sharp and ready. You always thought they only used their claws and fangs. However, watching Nerrocan skillfully disembowel and skin the fish was an impressive showcase of his abilities. Using his hand as a plate, he quickly put the dagger back into its sheath before serving the fish to you, not letting it get close to the sand. You inched closer to him to take away the pieces you wanted, one bite turning into two, then three and counting as you realized your body's need for sustenance. 

Nerrocan watched you for a while, following your fingers sliding over his palm to pick up the pieces with an odd curiosity before switching to watch you place the food in your mouth and chew as if he had never thought about this way of eating before. But eventually, he wrenched his eyes away, directing his focus back on the sea, and you found him lost in thought when you finally finished your meal. 

"I'm sorry," you muttered, suddenly overcome with a lot of guilt as you noticed his keen gaze, watching the waves splash around you. The things you'd have given to walk around in his mind for a while, figure out if he was measuring distance, what he could see in the moonlight, and feel with his tail fin in the water. The urge to study something so similar, yet different, had always been strong in you. But deep in those amber eyes, you could see longing, making you realize those similarities were worthy of your empathy.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked, turning his attention back to you and dipping his hands into the water to wash them off now that you had finished. 

"For… well… everything. I didn't even leave you any dinner. Not to mention you left your pod because of me… your family. Your brothers."

He was silent as you dropped the heaviness weighing on your heart. There was more you felt guilty for: the fact you made travel harder by being unfit for the terrain or that you had doubted him for the longest time. You didn't even have anything to repay his kindness with, and you didn't think he'd like anything you could give him as repayment when he sat you down at land again. 

"My brothers?" Nerrocan mumbled, furrowing his brows and cocking his head.

"Yes, the other two," you clarified, suddenly unsure about your assumption.

"We are not brothers; they are my mother's sister's children. But I am closer in age to them than my actual brothers. Krill taught me what I needed to know for my life in the pod. He made me a fine hunter, but I have long disliked his leadership abilities. He wants to be like his mother, which can be quite restrictive for others. I have sometimes struggled to understand his reckless behavior, and I loathe being blamed for his mistakes. And Lyr is… a problem. We've never gotten along well, but Krill insisted we had to stick together. You don't need to worry about them or me. It is quite normal for males to leave the pod. I'll be fine."

Cousins, you thought. All along, you thought they were close as brothers, especially how orcas usually acted in their pods. Still, you had been wrong about many things. You wouldn't have assumed yourself to be an expert on orcas, much less mermaid orcas, but it seemed you had been misguided about their relationship. You were also surprised to hear his thoughts about them, considering how well-integrated he had been into the pack. It made you remember Krill's words about the others, how he thought Nerrocan had ideas he wouldn't talk about. Hearing them from him now, it made sense he never spoke up against his cousin. 

But then again, the bit about males leaving the pod made less sense as you believed the only reason they did it was to mate and then return to their families after all. Maybe it was different for mermaids? Did they stay with their mates? Protect their families? 

Questions over questions, and you began to understand that the reason they all made you so nervous was your drive to find answers. But that seemed to be impossible, even at this point. You could ask him, but would it do you any good? All this time, you thought about revealing their identity once you returned to the mainland. To write up research papers and hold conferences about the strange existence of orca mermaids, but now… with how little you actually learned about them, would you have any grounds to stand on? If anyone caught on to the holes in your knowledge, they'd call you a sham and crazy for sure. After all, no one had ever learned about the existence of mermaids so far, other than in fairytales. 

"Say…" you started, opening your mouth to at least have some answer, even if they were just for yourself. You picked up one of the stones littering the beach, worrying it in your hand while he watched, minding the edges that protruded sharply from it. You wanted to ask him the bases and maybe what he'd do in the future. Even if he told you not to concern yourself with these worries, they still plagued your mind. Could he even return despite Krill and Lyr knowing what he did, taking you with him? Maybe it was less about the concept of his existence that you wanted to know about, but Nerrocan himself. 

However, instead of an answer, Nerrocan suddenly hissed, throwing half of his body in front of you and forcing you to pull in your legs to avoid them getting crushed under his weight. You could see very little with his body in the way, but it was impossible not to notice the tension in his bulking muscles and how he leaned forward, ready to pounce. 

"What's… What's going on?" you asked, trying to peer by him, spying through the gap between his body and arm. 

"Quiet!" he hissed, but his body only strained further after hearing your voice. He seemed unwell as if something hurt him, but you couldn't see an open wound on his body. 

Overcome with your nervousness, you held your breath as you tried to glimpse at what he saw, scanning the relatively calm waters as best as you could for any hint of danger that would justify his reaction. For a long moment, there was nothing, and you felt the tension begin to ease again, deciding to lean back and calm down, when Nerrocan snapped around, pinning you to the ground as he reached for something behind you. 

You yelped in surprise, your head hitting the sand with a thump, but it was only thanks to Nerrocan pushing you out of under him that you nearly escaped the swiping, clawed hands reaching for you. You dropped the stone in your hand as a sharp pain pushed you into action, forcing you to open your eyes and face the picture unfurling before you. Nerrocan held another face in his hand, his claws digging into the other merman's scalp as you heard a snarky laugh from the grey half-human. 

The moonlight made him look brilliant white, but in the shadows of their bodies, you could see the grey coat on him, very different compared to Nerrocan's deep black shade. Even though Nerrocan was a hulking figure even to this merman, the other still came with his own clawed hands that dug into Nerrocan's arm and sharp teeth grinning from beneath Nerrocan's palm. He held the grey merman up in the air as best as he could, preventing the creature from finding hold and crawling but also causing him to put all his weight into clawing at Nerrocan's arm. 

"You damn orcas are always so perceptive," the other merman snarled, licking over his lips. "And here I thought we'd have an easy snack."

We? you thought when a sudden jerk went through Nerrocan's body, forcing him to lower the other merman back on the sand while he glanced back over his shoulder. You followed this gaze, only to see another set of webbed and clawed hands wrap around and dig into Nerrocan's tail before starting to pull. Being forced back into the water, Nerrocan gripped the other merman by the neck, dragging him over the sand and stone with him as the three began descending into the wet. 

"Stay out of the water!" he yelled, your eyes meeting for a split second, yours blown wide in fear, his sharp and commanding. You weren't sure if it was meant as reassurance that he kept eye contact until he was pulled under; perhaps he was only trying to make sure you wouldn't get involved. More and more water was thrown around as you quickly climbed away from the edge of the island, sitting down on the grassy spot between the ferns. There was so much water being splashed around before the movement suddenly ceased, only to resurface seconds later. You saw tails thrashing against the surface, more light-colored ones than Nerrocan's dark hide, but you weren't able to figure out how many attackers were down there. 

It all happened so fast that you didn't even notice you were shaking in fear until you curled your hand into a fist, another sharp pain zapping through you. It felt wrong to look away when Nerrocan was fighting for his—and consequently your—life, but you still glanced down at the cut in your palm, long and bleeding, not having noticed it until then. It must have been the stone that you accidentally clutched when you were attacked, but it seemed like a small thing while there was a fight going on just a few feet from you.

The pain was quickly forgotten when one of the unfamiliar mermen suddenly jumped out of the water, landing on his belly as he lunged at you. Sharp teeth etched into a mad grimace, so much more horrifying than any animal could ever be when it was the face of a human you were staring down. You only got glimpses of your attacker. Of the grey coat and the dorsal fin, which was shorter and sharper than the orcas'. Everything else was similar, though he wasn't as big as Nerrocan or the others, that much you could tell. He looked as if a shark had taken on a half-human form, and from what you heard, this might have been the case.

Your scream fell silent as you forced yourself away as far as you could, water already threatening to envelop you when Nerrocan suddenly pounced from behind the merman, gripping him by his hair and keeping him at bay. His teeth were bared, his eyes so dark you saw no spark of humanness in them. None of them resembled humans at that moment. Nerrocan didn't look at you, even though you couldn't help but watch him, terrified, as he dragged the attacker away from you. Another merman lunged at his tail, and you clearly saw him bite down into Nerrocan as he twisted around to grab that merman, too, letting himself fall back into the water and bringing them both down with him. That bite was not the only wound you noticed in the short time the struggle occurred before you. You saw the scratches on Nerrocan's body, the blood trickling from his shoulder, and the claw marks on his arms. 

This fight was raw and brutal and… unfair. Even though he kept them at bay, those two other mermen didn't have wounds deep enough to bleed yet. Orcas were stronger than sharks, but you had never seen a fight between one orca and two sharks before. The outcome wasn't clear this time, but your gut twisted and turned with the realization there was no guarantee Nerrocan would be able to win on his own. 

He told you to stay out of the water, to not get unnecessarily close to the danger, but should you just wait and watch as the two attackers ripped your only chance of safety and returning home apart? Nerrocan told you to stay back, and you had already decided to trust him. Would you be a hindrance if you tried to help, or would you give Nerrocan that little window he needed to finish off these two? The only way to distract them was to get into the action, but what if you put yourself into danger—accidentally or not?

There wasn't much time to think of anything else you could do. After all, this fight could end at any second when one of them made a mistake. 

[oakbuggy]

Liar, Liar Chapter 4

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting, ANGST

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 4 (NSFW) ~9.8k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala unceremoniously woke up in her cell, her body completely sore and wrecked, and no memory of how she got back. She endured hours of self-pitying and Orlek’an’s intense questioning of what happened and if she was okay and yes, the sex was extremely good and she didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Her next sessions in the lab were more bearable, a silver lining of pleasantries was included in each meeting. Patty had also surprisingly apologized and ‘gifted’ the Tawkami with her own starched white lab coat, filled with pockets.

Well, it was less of a gift and more of a ‘all the bites and marks on your body are making us uncomfortable so please wear this piece of clothing’-type offering. Tala did question why not they just look away but she couldn't necessarily blame them, the soldier wasn’t very gentle with his ‘playing’. She had also been spared embarrassment and given a replacement tewng, but this one was so strange. It was a tawtute piece of clothing, underwear that dug into her hips a bit, an ugly grey color. Still, better than the shreds Neteyam had left her with.

Scientists trusted her more and allowed her closer to materials. So much closer that she was able to build up her own collection, including a paralyzing agent to coat Orlek’an’s crude darts and needles with. The pockets were like godsend.

The only one who didn’t trust her any more in the time she’s been here was unsurprisingly and so frustratingly, Corporal Tom.

He dragged her away at careless hours of the day and night since then, to the quiet and somewhat disturbed acceptance of all the scientists and Patty. Every kiss was wounding, every touch was rough, and his steadfast meanness was grating on Tala’s resilience.

And by Eywa, so was his stamina. Any peak she caught of the soldier in the hallways made her scowl. While each step made her wince and tremble, oh no, perfection himself had the swagger of a palulukan prowling their territory. 

He’d come to find her every few or so days, so Tala took these breaks as little gifts from Eywa. Hidden in high corners, hallways, and window corners, she would etch clues of the prophesied danger. ‘Tsefta’ Eywa’ [Eywa’s Revenge], she wrote. Vrrteps could translate it, true, but the People would know it was a warning, a true sign. Even if Tala got caught, the rest would follow in spreading the message, though she obviously hoped this wouldn’t happen. 

A few days passed, it was no worry. The few days stretched into a week and she still hadn’t seen neither boot nor tail of him. Not that she was worried. 

Not that she missed him, Great Mother, she’ll poison herself before she ever admits that.

“Haven’t seen Corporal Tom in a minute, he… alright?” Dr. Hanson said awkwardly as the two of them waited for the droid to bring out the next sample. Tala snorted, how would she know?

Patty knew. “He sick.”

The Tawkami proudly fought the urge to twist her body at a breakneck speed to interrogate the guard but her shoulders did tense. He’s never been sick, and, extreme headaches aside, he was all the makings of a healthy and hardy soldier. 

Dr. Hanson spotted Tala’s pinched focus on the table, so he took pity and asked for her.

“Sick with what?”

Patty shrugged.

“Ramirez spotted him hiding out in his room and the medics are salty ‘cause apparently, that’s just ‘what he does’ instead of going to them.” The guard explained, picking dirt from underneath her nails which only got a scolding from the other scientists. Tala could feel her ears perking up, intrigued, but she kept her mouth shut and her eyes focused on the plant material before her. It wasn’t any of her business, even if she burnt for answers.

Before her was a cluster of hardened plant sap and crystals before her, golden, and still connected to violet tree bark. Previous thoughts of the Corporal were quickly replaced by delight.

“Oh. This is… sweet thing. Honey.” She replied in her simple English, and Dr. Hanson’s previously unreadable expression broke when his eyebrows shot up.

“Honey? So, just edible, no medicinal properties?”

Tala smiled and quickly swiped a tiny crystal to taste, causing the scientists around the table to squawk.

“What are you doing!”

“H-hey!”

“Spit it out!”

Tala let it melt on her tongue, smiling cheekily. “Properties… makes other medicine easier to eat.” She said with a giggle and pushed the cluster towards the tawtutes. They eyed each other before shaking their heads, deciding to input their observations instead. She shrugged, savoring the sweet, tart, taste, the flavor like a melody on her taste buds. It’s been so long since she’s really tasted anything besides those miserable dry bricks of vitamins. As she licked her fingers clean she remembered something.

He liked honey when they were younger, didn’t he?

Tala blew some dark strands out of her face, eyelashes fluttering like a tizzy and she paused. Her green eyes snapped up to see Dr. Hanson’s extremely observant and bespectacled brown ones.

She felt her cheeks heat up, Great Mother, how affection-starved was she to consider Neteyam’s continued absence discomforting? 

She blinked twice before smiling, pointing her ears down as if bashful. “You’re staring very hard, it embarrasses me.” She teased and puffed up internally when he sputtered.

Dr. Hanson sheepishly looked down and with a glance around the room, pushed the honey cluster towards her. 

“You can have it.”

“Really?”

“Well, I think honey’s a small price to pay for saving my life.”He said with a small smile. He straightened up nervously but Tala delightedly leaned across the table close to his face. She blinked prettily at him and smiled, her nose almost touching the glass of his exo-pack. 

“I think you just like me!” She said delightedly and carefully placed the little cluster in her pockets, licking her fingers. When the tawtute’s face flushed, Tala smiled to herself. She was far more used to this sort of reaction. Not Corporal Tom’s indifference tinged in distaste.

She grimaced suddenly when the sweetness on her fingers made her feel so terribly homesick. 

She missed her medical alcove, the crunch of grass as she walked, and the smell of everything in the air. She didn’t miss the raids, nor the trepidation she felt every time she awaited her friends to return from their own missions.

But now because of one single prick, she was forced into a new normal. Tala was sure he saw it as Eywa’s strange sense of humor that he was burdened to come find her for his aching head. Both the one on his shoulders and the one between his legs. 

The mark on her neck stayed ever deep and ever sore. And yet despite the evidence of his outright obsession, which Tala felt like she was running in circles in making him admit, his bruising indifference was prevailing. The tranquil seed in her back fangs didn’t feel like enough to get back at him for, not by a long shot.

The mechanical doors whirred open and already her mouth poised to snark at the corporal for his absence, but the face she saw was much uglier than she was expecting. Corporal Halloway smiled broadly, to her chagrin, and noisily stomped into the lab, arms wide open.

“Hey there eggheads, and Private!” Corporal Halloway walked into the room with the confidence of a man who was not sporting a healing black eye. The disgust replaced shock when he grabbed her chin, making her hiss.

“Aw, hey to you too, sweetheart. Still mad?” He asked with mocking kindness. A hazmat-suited scientist guffawed from the corner.

“Your black eye looks like it’s healing well.” They said in the back smugly. The corporal flipped them off and fingered through Tala’s braids roughly until he found her kuru and pulled it harshly to get her feet. She shouted from the pain and her legs bumped painfully against the side of the table.

“Not feelin’ like talking to the eggheads today. How about you and I get some privacy?” Corporal Halloway said heatedly, eyes dangerously gleaming. She grimaced and the rest rose to their feet as well.

“You can’t-“

“We’re in the middle of-!”

“Hey-!”

The corporal leaned over Dr. Hanson in a way that made the scientist step back and strain his neck. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to and even Patty was shifting her eyes in apology.

After a few seconds of tense silence, he suddenly laughed.

“Thought so,” Halloway said and quickly dragged Tala out of Lab 12. In the narrow halls, he dug his dirty nails into her hip.

“Hurts.” She tried to say without hissing but her revulsion peaked through too obviously. His loud boot stomps echoed along the floor, her own feet skidding along. He had dragged her out so quickly that thankfully her inhibitor cuffs were still unlinked, but who knew how long that would last?

“You don’t seem to mind when it’s the big blue boy scout doin’ the hurtin’.”

Her nose scrunched up. Maybe her reaction was a touch dramatic because the Recom barked a laugh loud and hard, so pleased.

“What, you don’t like him either? That’s a shame, I think you’re his favorite.” His eyes looked strange when he said that last word. Tala didn’t like that, didn’t like him, for some reason, she felt like something more dire than a disappointing fuck was awaiting her and her mouth felt dry. His gaze right after he kicked her to the floor was so… intense. Scary.

The sour aftertaste of honey stuck to her tongue.

Corporal Halloway nearly dislocated her arm when they made a turn into an unfamiliar set of hallways. While Tala appreciated the new addition to her mental map of the facility, the pit in her stomach grew. Just weeks ago she was fine with Halloway’s advances, but now he seemed even more disgusting an option. His already awfully-stale smell was mixed with blood and gunpowder, smoke. He had returned recently from battle.

Tala’s green eyes worriedly darted around, the empty metal passages, the corporal’s face that towered over her with an unsettlingly friendly smile, and his gun still holstered on his harness. She had forgotten that despite his harshness, ill-treatment, and manhandling, Corporal Tom never acted with an intent to kill her, not really. Corporal Tom cursed and used her, but he was at least reliant on her, even if he hated it.

Tala avoided making any further eye contact with Halloway. She knew that looking into them would only set off more dread.

–

Neteyam could smell her before he could hear her and at first he thought those whiffs of honey and rose were only his delusion.

His body was sore, his bedsheets were covered in his sweat and he huffed, vexed at the thought of her.

A simple mission turned out to have much more annoying consequences than Neteyam had expected. It was a simple raze and redevelop; Raze the ground and redevelop for more RDA bases. More Bridgeheads.

The roads were developed but on this side of the moon, barely inhabited. Most fled, the few warriors the na’vi were more focused on evacuating the many young they traveled with, which the Omaticayan thought was so outrageously reckless of them. How could one think to travel with so many helpless clan members in the open? How could they let themselves be targeted like that?

Neteyam’s scope remained fixed on grown warriors, knives and bows in their calloused hands. Halloway’s accursed chuckles from his throat comm about ‘easy pickings’ made his jaw tense. 

But his headaches and mind soothed with each shot he, as a soldier, took. Perfect, accurate.

The battle was barely worthy to be called such. His migraine returned to manageable levels, his supplies were hardly dented and when Quaritch recalled the team to the center of the field Neteyam saw no movement.

The arrow shot at Neteyam’s clavicle was surprising, to say the least. He had seen the half-dead na’vi on the ground, her arm still in the air, and the both of them dropped onto the grass to bleed out.

Visceral shadows of sensation coursed through his body as he bled out, it prickled muscle memories that he didn’t know where from. Had he bled out before? His scars felt like they glowed red-hot but he had enough sense to apply emergency care and pressure to staunch the bleeding.

“Tom down, requesting extraction.” He hissed into his throat-comm and he knew he was conscious as another squad member arrived and dragged him back to the helicopters. He knew he was awake when the Colonel asked for his condition, of which he answered positively, and Halloway painfully clapped his hand on his back like a dickhead.

And maybe Neteyam was awake when Quaritch then told him to report to medbay and Neteyam instead went back to the darkness of his private quarters, deciding he’d rather hunker down and tend to himself. He had made his own collection of RDA medical supplies inside his room, increasingly avoiding any medical staff if he could.

He didn’t know why he did. He just never wanted them to touch him, never to set him inside one of those chambers.

Neteyam, still in bed, looked down at the haphazard bandages awkwardly applied around himself to cover his clavicle and the dried blood on his mattress. Ah, yes. After he got shot, he developed a fever and continued to seclude himself.

He groaned when he realized he could still catch her scent, still provoking him and perplexing him. It must have been days, how did she always manage to worm her way into his thoughts? She confounded him, which was precisely why he avoided seeing her. Neteyam needed actual strength every time he saw her, or else he’d end up falling for her cloying words or stabbing her dead, it was for both their sakes really. He kept her distant even despite their intimate closeness, kept her screaming with his fingers instead of letting her poke her away around his mind with careful touches. He kept her shut up with kisses that made them both taste blood because even if he couldn’t stand her, his feet would take him to Lab 12 and back in the sights of her infuriatingly pretty green eyes.

Damn her. And damn Eywa, for making him reliant on her, he could feel the veins on his forehead pulse and it felt like gunshots were hammering away in his head. He was fine before he found her.

Halloway’s barking laughter was so loud Neteyam could hear it through his door and thankfully he harbored absolutely no goodwill towards that irritating person. He regarded his fellow Corporal with the barest respect, he was more cruel than he had to be on the battlefield. It bristled against Neteyam’s previous warrior sensibilities, he would definitely have considered Halloway dishonorable.

Neteyam shot up in his bed as the pieces of his mind finally clicked together. Halloway and Tala?

The soldier walked to his door with minor difficulty and it hummed fully open. There was Halloway, lecherously draped around Tala, leading her through the soldiers’ living quarters. Her tail was swishing anxiously.

Neteyam glowered when the two of them turned towards him but all he was focused on was Halloway’s hand squeezing her ass through her lab coat.

Her fucking pert, round ass he’d watched bounce on him just a week before-fuck. His nose wrinkled, he didn’t feel like sharing.

“Get over here.” Neteyam’s voice rumbled through his chest dangerously low, not acknowledging his fellow squad member. Tala blinked her stupid pretty eyes and she cautiously leaned her weight forward, toward Neteyam. The soldier above her kept her still.

“Hey sunshine, you finally awake? How you feeling, big guy?” Corporal Halloway greeted him, friendly, but when he adjusted his grip on Tala to kiss into her hair she could feel the temperature drop as Neteyam’s pupils turned to pinpricks

“Fine. How’s your eye?” The snark in Neteyam’s voice felt too personal and the way Halloway’s pulse quickened made Tala immediately look back up his face, the black eye. He did that?

“Cute. I’m gonna go get my dick wet now, you can have her when I’m done. But, uh, I wouldn’t wait.” The Recom said dryly, winking, and began dragging Tala back to their original destination. Neteyam’s growl was enough to get everyone to freeze and Halloway faced him again, she could see Neteyam’s knuckles turn white.

The Tawkami na’vi thought quickly, a second option had become available to her and though she loathed to admit, Neteyam was by far more attractive. As an option.

She discreetly rolled the thinnest of Orlek’an’s crude darts at the bottom of her lab pockets with her thumb and finger. The Anurai woman had taught her some new tricks and Tala’s tongue ran over the tranquil seed still tucked securely in her back fangs, another option if things went awry.

She could do this.

Tala pressed herself firmly onto Halloway’s arm and let him feel the contours of her body through her closed lab coat. Both soldiers’ ears perked up, alarmed. She fluttered her eyelashes up at Halloway coquettishly while ignoring the holes she felt burning on the side of her head.

“Can we go already~?” She whispered with a small whine, and Neteyam could feel his fever spreading tenfold down his fucking bloodstream what the fuc-

Halloway’s eyebrows shot up and the wolfish grin on his face was so immense Neteyam considered kicking his teeth in. Halloway turned to him, dramatically shrugging.

“You heard the little lady.” He said before picking Tala up, she tried to hide her yelp as a squeal of delight. When her eyes caught Neteyam’s unreadable yet simultaneously rageful expression Tala tilted her head and smiled innocently, her tail flicking lazily behind her.

He looked so stupid, what was he all angry for? Adorable.

The Omaticayan was losing his mind, his scowl was deep and he huffed when Tala smiled. When the door shut, he bruisingly hit the side of his fist against the wall. Yomioang [chalice plant], he couldn’t have picked a better plant for her, she seemed all too fine with ensnaring whoever she could with her nectar and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Neteyam felt all too much like the stupid boy he’d acted around Tala when they had first met as children. Pretty flowers, sweet scents, he wanted to murder something.

Tala wondered if she had gone too far, seeing the way the male na’vi’s back muscles flexed, tight. His hair had whipped away from her so dramatically. But her attention was demanded when Halloway punched in the code for his private quarters and nearly threw her in his bed.

The smell overwhelmed her, and so did he as he immediately ripped her coat open, groaning at the sight of her in this grey underwear. He grabbed at her hips and pawed at her breasts, and Tala obliged despite feeling her skin crawl.

“Finally got you all to myself. Come here, sweetheart…” *He breathed into her darker blue skin as she held the crude needle in her palm. She sighed breathily and arched her back to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Halloway started to laugh. “Don’t worry I’m not going anywhe-ERK!” Halloway’s body nearly suffocated her as it fell on her diaphragm, heavy as a rock. She quickly pulled out the needle from the space near his adam’s apple, just as Orlek’an had taught her. A new trick, just to cause a fainting spell.

Tala blew more dark strands of hair away from her face as she poked him hard a few times and checked if he was still breathing. He was out cold and Tala nodded to herself, impressed. She would need to ask the Anurai woman to teach her more, though she did also offer a quick prayer to Eywa that she hadn’t just killed him.

After some major effort, Tala rolled the soldier off of her, bit into his skin here and there despite the revulsed reaction it brought to her tongue, and scampered quietly to Neteyam’s door.

She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again, louder.

A crack opened and even from the tiny space, Tala could confirm what she thought she had smelled earlier: dry blood.

She could see Neteyam's bright golden irises blaze at her through the crack and she beamed at him.

“Missed me?”

The door quickly shut and she made the brilliant decision of letting Neteyam nearly break her toes as she tried to stop it. She bit her lips and hissed in pain. Neteyam smiled, almost amused.

“Ow!! Really?” She whisper-shouted to him, feeling extremely vulnerable out in the bright hallways of Bridgehead.

“What did you do to him?” Neteyam asked, eyes flicking to Halloway’s door. Tala rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, he’s just taking a little nap.” She grumbled and attempted to get further inside by squeezing her arm in now, the door digging painfully into her tit as she tried to force her way through.

“You told me to get over here, didn’t you? I had to think of something.” She huffed.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”  He kept his hand firmly against the door, though her efforts amused him. He kept enjoying the view of her breast squeezed, her lab coat now open, he let his eyes rake through her exposed figure.

“Toys have to look like they want to play if they want to survive, adorable warrior.” The tease in her voice died when Tala’s nose scrunched, the smell of sickness apparent on him. “Let me in, you’re hurt.”

Neteyam quirked his brow but relented, not wanting the two of them to get caught by anyone.

Tala entered and immediately re-examined him. His striped body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and pale, She noted a mass, of bandages she assumed, protruding from underneath his black, tight shirt, around his right-side clavicle. When her hands reached out he pushed it away.

“Show me your pockets.”

“What?” Tala’s ears folded back. Neteyam raised his brows as if his request was predictable and she was the one being unreasonable.

“How did you ‘make him sleep’, Tala?” He said, a slight growl to emphasize his soberness.

Tala made a face. This wasn’t cute.

“How do I make you sleep, Neteyam?” She replied, a challenging swish in her tail. She crossed her arms, they stared at each other in silence, his mouth was set in a hard line.

They stared.

Neteyam lurched forward and dug his hand into her pockets himself.

“You-!”

He pulled back only to reveal fingers covered in sticky and spiky clusters of honey. Tala’s heart had jumped out of her chest for a moment there but his fingers were mercifully too big to sense the tiny needles still deep inside. She made a very good show of her innocence with sass.

“Yes! I poisoned the poor corporal with honey, best be careful. This yomioang is just full of tricks.”  The Tawkami woman said tartly as he stared down, still confused about what the heck was on his hand. He hadn’t seen honey since he had left the forest with his family.

“Why do you have this?” His voice was more full of wonder than she had expected.

“The scientists. They-“

“They?”

“Dr. Hanson just gave me some as a thank you. That’s it.” Tala looked up at him through her eyelashes. “And I didn’t hurt the corporal or poison the honey if that’s what you’re going to ask next.”

Neteyam pursed his lips, it was. Tala sighed and stepped forward and he was damned to admit that the gentle air of her perfume did make him feel better.

“If I wanted to hurt him I wouldn’t have come back to you now.” She cautioned another step forward and she delicately picked out the sticky sweet crystals from Neteyam’s hand. He froze, eyes warning as the veins on his neck pronounced itself. She was close enough for him to count the tanhi on her face and now the real sweet thick substance was setting his nerves on fire.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you. You know I know how to help, let me help you. If I’ll heal the vrrteps, I’ll heal you. Please.” Tala said again, her green eyes gazing straight at his, she noted how the golden syrup reflected against his eyes. She used to think he was sweet. For that, she couldn’t ignore how his mottled blood-stained stank, how the sick clung to his skin and his breath was short.

Neteyam’s eyes softened a percentage under Tala’s determination. The plea in her voice seemed sincere to him.

He sighed and kept his eyes on her, suspicious. She frowned, about to give up and her fingers started to leave his skin. 

The soldier sighed again, tugged off his shirt, and sat on the edge of his bed.

Tala let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she quickly looked around the windowless room, closed off and the only comfort it possessed was that it smelled like him and the forest. Pine, sunlilies, and, somehow, sunlight.

She picked out what she needed from the available medical supplies and sat down delicately next to him, barely disturbing the wrinkles.

The bandages were decent, but they were old, Tala worked quickly. He hissed when she cleaned the wound.

Tala pushed the small cluster of honey she had recollected from his hand into his mouth as if she were comforting a child.

“Tawtute medicine stings, you’ve always known that. Just enjoy this.” Tala said, a small smile quirked on her lips as she foresaw the scowl begin to sink into the wrinkle of his mouth.

He definitely didn’t appreciate it but kept stoic as he let the honey roll around on his tongue. Sweet, his eyes flickered to the navi in front of him. The scene felt so… familiar, despite his best efforts to resist 

The Tawkami alchemist finished and quietly touched his exposed forehead. The fever wasn’t too strong, he had sweated out the majority of it and Tala had spotted some pill bottles earlier. She wished she had her usual ingredients, the Tawkami medicine and recipes that could heal him faster.

“How did this happen?”

“Do you really want to know?” Neteyam mumbled though he did admire her handiwork as he looked down.

It wasn’t from uncooperation that he asked this, Tala knew. She paused if she really did want to know. What was a messy scar and a fever for this solder was likely something much more permanent for whoever did this to him, it made her chew the inside of her cheek. The tranquil seed was still always an option.

“Why didn’t the vrrteps heal you? Your wound shouldn’t have gotten infected.” She switched her question.

“I told you I don’t like the scientists.” Neteyam thought her change in topic was prudent.

She nodded and he realized she still didn’t understand.

“I’d rather tend to myself, I know how to and I don’t need them to run their… tests on me. Keep me under observation for something as small as this.”

Curiosity flashed in Tala’s eyes and Neteyam mentally decided he’d only humor her for as long as this small ball of honey in his mouth lasted.

“Do they do that often? Keep you under observation?”

“They brought me back from the dead, Tala. Of course.”

“What do they do?”

“They check my vitals, lay me inside one of their bio-lab chambers.”

“And what else?”

The ball of honey was melting fast.

“I’m unconscious when I’m in the chamber.”

“But does it… hurt? When you wake up?”

Neteyam didn’t feel like answering, so he sucked until the honey disappeared completely on his tongue.

“Thank you for tending to me, Tala. I’ll call a guard to escort you back.” He was not surprised from the severely offended look on Tala’s face.

For she didn’t appreciate the clipped ‘thank you, get out’ from Neteyam’s mouth. Tala kneeled up to tower over him, letting the unbuttoned lab coat fall off her shoulders as she placed her hand on her hips.

The soldier would hurl himself off a cliff before confessing that his eyes strained not to stare at that deliciously thin, tiny, piece of grey cloth that covered her cunt. She looked too good in it, no loincloth to cover the supple fold of her flesh, her thighs and pelvis meeting- focus.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She said.

“I’ve answered enough.”

“You didn’t answer an important one.” Tala was slowly realizing she should not have missed him as much as she did in his absence. She sighed, and Neteyam took minor offense to being treated as if he was the source of her vexation.

“I’m just… Of course, I’ll leave, you need to rest.” She figured she wasn’t going to get any more information and a larger part of her was scolding her for trying in the first place. This skxawng wasn’t worth the effort, she had done her duty as a healer and alchemist. This was enough.

Neteyam stilled his movements, taken aback at her so quickly giving up. He regarded her suspiciously and sighed. He lets the wrist tech fall to the floor.

“You drop-” Tala was about to be very helpful and reach down to retrieve it until Neteyam suddenly grabbed her by her waist and pulled her down with him, letting his back fall onto the mattress.

“Neteyam! Your wound!” She yelped.

“Just be quiet.”

Tala looked at him in complete disbelief, Neteyam kept his eyes trained on the ceiling since he didn’t need to look at her to already know what her expression was like. She was stunned, to say the least, but Tala was also minding the feeling of her body pressed onto his bare chest. This felt the closest thing to tender between them.

She decided being a little selfish for the comfort wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Instead of asking more questions, which the soldier was preparing himself mentally for, Tala surprised him by simply sighing and settling in, tracing the stripes on his chest. Her fingertips danced lazily on the skin, careful over his old gunshot wound on his left pec. Whatever, looks like she was stuck here.

Now Neteyam knew he was still delirious from his fever when he found himself not stopping her. When he found her soft curves like a blanket on top of him and her careful touch endearing. This was why he needed strength every time he saw her, already he was letting her entrap him like a small animal, attracted to her warmth and smell. He had to remember that even wasps also settled within her, waiting to attack him on all fronts.

His tail thumped softly against the side of the bed, agitated. Tala noticed but stayed quiet. She reminded herself that every show of embarrassment was because his ego was crying, not because he considered her capable of affecting him.

“Why do you help me?” When Neteyam asked it he wondered to himself why he was so eager to get eaten and stung.

Tala could feel the bass of his voice tremor through her and she raised her face to look at him.

“A healer doesn’t need a reason to heal, remember?” Tala replied softly, simply, she rested her cheek on her arm. In the end, this was what she believed in, even if her wartime experience told her this was reckless.

The Omaticayan was not expecting to be so unscathed.

“Mm.” He hummed.

“Did you give Halloway that black eye?”

There it was, the first sting. Neteyam shrugged and then winced. Tala was immediately amused and scooted closer to his face, grinning.

“How come?” She asked, beginning to sound all too excited.

“… You were unfairly punished, remember?” His heart didn’t know whether to feel lighter or heavier when she giggled.

“You got revenge for me before I even asked!” Tala was smiling, wasn’t this a treat? Did this skxawng actually have the capacity to be charitable? “How come you didn’t tell me?”

It was when it dropped that he realized he was smiling at all. He trained his eyes back on the bare ceiling. He remembered when he used to ache to see stars.

“What would you have done if I did?”

“I probably would’ve kissed you.”

He furrowed his brows at her, unimpressed. Tala scoffed and laughed again.

“A real kiss. Not that bloody mauling you make us do with our lips.”

Now that offended him, Neteyam propped himself up by his elbows.

“I don’t ever hear you complainin-”

Tala pressed her lips so completely softly against his, it should’ve been so easy for him to shove her off. 

Yet his voice broke off instantly and her eyelashes brushed against his cheek. Her eyes were mercifully closed so she couldn’t see the war his ears flushed red.

Another sting.

“You taste like honey,” Tala said, smiling into the kiss. She didn’t have any real reason why she was doing this. Maybe she wanted to prove herself wrong. Maybe she wanted to check really how little Neteyam cared for her… and how much.

His body felt hot, Great fucking Mother why was she so… It was embarrassing how quickly he was getting enraptured by her whims. She always did whatever she wanted, he hadn’t seen that as something attractive before.

The Tawkami pulled her face back and so embarrassingly his own chased after hers until she put his hand over his mouth.

“See? A real kiss.”

Neteyam dumbly nodded and only when Tala ever so softly giggled did he regain some sense. He scoffed and quickly turned the both of them to properly lay in his bed, pulling the covers over them.

He settled his face into her soft breasts, the only thing that he felt hadn’t betrayed or embarrassed him that day.

“Excuse me??” Tala squeaked, amused though.

“Shu’up. Tired.” His voice was muffled into the fat of her breasts but Tala basically understood. She chortled, was this fondness she was feeling? His resistance towards her was bordering so much closer to adorable than to infuriating just then, the flashes of his old self were… bring up warm reminders. Of when he was much nicer and much funner to be around, much kinder.

Tala settled in, supposing correctly she wouldn’t be let go any time soon. Her hands softly patted his back as they laid there.

“Fine, I’ll leave you be since you’re hurt.” She said in her magnanimous good grace. She decided to also ignore Neteyam snorting between her breasts. 

Silence returned and Tala considered speaking of something of much more substance, of importance. Like the war, his family, but the words stuck in her throat. They were virtually strangers. Even strangers in war could share intimacy like this if they were desperate and tired enough.

The thought made playing with Neteyam’s unadorned braids of hair feel… invasive. She stopped.

They were just starved for warmth, that was all. Neteyam felt lucky that he was drowsy now. Like Tala, there was too much he didn’t want to think about, no intention to release it all.

Both kept silently awake for hours before drifting into slumber.

—

Neteyam’s face was lit by stinging sparks of fire and magma.

It was hot, so hot he could barely breathe. He looked around, coughing, and there he saw the slender back of someone who looked too eerily familiar. He groaned internally, he had always hated Eywa’s ability to send visions in dreams, did he really have no place for solace?

“Mother.”

Neytiri turned, her amber eyes wide and blazing as she looked at her son with a face of anguish. She ran towards him, through plumes of burning stone.

“Maitan [my son]!”

Neteyam grimaced as his mother’s arms encircled him, her grip tight and pleading. She was shaking, he could see how aged the skin on her hands had become, her smell of daffodils.

He saw his songcord hanging on her hips and he felt as if the splatters of fire were less painful a sensation than seeing that.

Neytiri stepped back to look at her firstborn, miracles and blessings on her tongue. Her fingers wandered along his face, his scars, the one on his forehead was hidden from her however.

Her reverie was cut short when she truly looked at the RDA vrrtep uniform he was fully clothed in

“You are alive.” Her voice trembled regardless, too much pain and happiness bubbled up to the surface as the lines of her conflicted smile deepened, she was trying not to sob.

“Mother.” Neteyam couldn’t help but want to be kind. He had often daydreamed of how such reunions would go. He had calculated soon enough his mother would see him, as he is now. He knew she would know she’d have to kill him and how she would want to refuse to. He counted on it.

“M-my son, how could you think like this?” His mother’s voice broke at the question, somehow everything the two were thinking was so plain to them here.

Their ears flicked at the roars of fire and heaviness settled.

“If the People give up Jake Sully, I won’t have to.” Neteyam said and he could feel his mother start to draw blood. Nothing, it felt like barely anything.

“What is this poison, Neteyam? What have they done to you, maitan?” Neytiri nearly shouted, her own songcord swinging as her whole body shook in anger, imitating the volcanoes around them. “I will kill them, I will avenge you-“

Jake Sully first. He alone should be the only casualty, Neteyam knew that, all of Eywa'eveng knew that. But even in his clearheadedness, not at all shrouded in migraine, he could feel his scars emanate a heat hotter than fire. Nothing to hide behind, resentment filled up so much of his core.

His head and his heart wanted revenge. It wasn’t even his fault, none of theirs, Neteyam knew so logically.

“Bro…?”

He turned his head so quickly his plain braids whipped to see a na’vi too familiar to him. Five fingers, eyebrows, face and limbs inked with dark tattoos, and taller. He walked towards them, somehow feet not burning and the heat made his visage blurry but not his emotions.

“Lo’ak…” it was their mother, Neytiri called out to him in warning. The son in front of her, she would not dare take her eyes off of him now.

Not when the inferno reflected in Neteyam’s eyes was overflowing, his jaw tightened, if his nails were longer he’d long be drawing blood into his palms.

“You do not want this.” Neytiri’s voice rose as Lo’ak approached them, his lips parted. Wonder, horror?

Guilt.

“Bro-, Neteyam. Neteyam I’m so sorry-“ Lo’ak wanted to believe it was because of the way even the air sizzled that he found it harder to breathe, not because of his… did he have the right to call him a brother?

“First, Dad. Because we shouldn’t even exist and you know it.” Neteyam’s voice was eerie and he stepped closer to his younger sibling, it made Lo’ak’s feet falter and Neytiri’s throat bubbled up with panic.

“What- What are you talking about-?”

“There was something Quaritch told me since the time I’ve come back.” Neteyam spat at the words ‘come back’ as if he had any choice in the matter. Neytiri followed as her sons came closer and closer to each other, no one backing down. The lava was following the steps of each warrior.

“Something about the ‘sins of the father’ to be paid by his children.”

Lo’ak kept his gaze steady, his hands twitched at the threat. Neteyam didn’t have a clue what his face was like now, but he could feel it through Lo’ak. Monster, freak, he supposed it was unsurprising. 

A son that was supposed to be dead.

Both sons of a traitor.

Neteyam stopped a meter away from the younger. Their heights seemed even, Lo’ak’s warrior garb and belly band looked similar to the one he had had. He wanted to laugh, was that a tribute to him?

Lo’ak’s ears turned down, jaw set.

“Do you really think that’s fair, baby brother?” His voice was too calm.

“Neteyam, stop this, they have poisoned you against your own family, your people! Please, just come home maitan-“

Lo’ak heard the mistake in his mother’s plea too late.

“Home? Like when I asked to come back home when I died?” His fury was overwhelming, Neteyam was seeing things he did not recognize. He was shot in the head, when had he the time to tell them? What was this dark view of the stars, faces of loved ones looking down on him, where was this from?

The other two sensed the confusion, only making their own burst through.

“Neteyam, please, just listen to us-“

“Maitan, it will be okay! Your-your father has barely slept since you-“

“Why should the People continue to suffer for his actions? Jake Sully already doomed this place-!”

“Dad doomed this place? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Lo’ak’s tone turned grave with this outburst and he ventured closer to his brother despite Neytiri’s protests.

“You’ve got to fucking joking. You’re actually on the side of the people that ruined our lives, destroyed our homes, killed everyone, killed you, mom’s family-?!” They were growling at each other now, Neteyam no longer had the significant height advantage he was used to. Their fangs gleamed red in the dream, as if already bloodied, he always hated Lo’ak’s were sharper but he was confident it wouldn’t help that much.

Both were suddenly aware that in their respective war costumes, both had knives strapped to their bodies.

“No!” Neytiri sobbed with a pain that both brothers knew they’d never forget. She reached for her own, to protect, to defend, Neteyam’s gloved fingers wrapped around the handle of his black combat knife, and Lo’ak’s citrine eyes begged for peace as his hand reached for his carved hunting knife.

Neteyam recognized that knife. He gave it to him, a present for Lo’ak’s iknimiya, recently sharpened. Neytiri’s knife hung with a feather he had gifted to her as a child.

Neteyam now truly knew Eywa was cruel.

-----

“Neteyam!!”

The soldier gasped and immediately hurled his body forward to break the bones of whoever was in front of him.

Tala choked and she placed her hands on his face.

“Breathe, Neteyam.”

One blink and he could see the cool-toned blues and greens of dull and dark silver walls in shadow. Bridgehead. His room.

Inferno-yellow eyes met cooling leaf hues. Green, green eyes, Tala.

The breath he let out was shuddering and violent, he immediately crumpled tightly around her and Tala found herself now trying to hold the soldier up with wrinkled, damp blankets.

“I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry…” he gasped out quickly, his entire body felt so fucking cold now, it hurt. Tala blinked owlishly but her sleepy state focused on comforting him.

“It was a dream, just a dream. You’re okay, you’re okay.” She whispered soothingly, she rubbed his back. They were sitting up in the middle of his bed now, though Neteyam was still hunched over and breathing hard to regain himself. She felt his calloused hands dug into her body as if tattooing her stripes into his palms…

“It’s your fever, you’re sweating, you’ll warm up in a bit.” Tala continued and her voice stayed calming and even. She couldn’t do much else when Neteyam’s remedy to whatever he had seen in his sleep was to bury their bodies impossibly closer together. The soldier hadn’t meant to hurt her. 

He pushed his face into her softness, desperate for real warmth, not the clammy fabric of the blanket.

“Li’Tala…” Tala jerked her entire body away, stunned. He didn’t know why he said it, her full name, one that he knew-

“Don’t call me that, Neteyam.” She said, her firm voice edged on icy.

“Only my mate is allowed to call me ‘Li’Tala’ so I don’t want to hear my name out of your mouth again, you!”

“Oh, and I’m sure your mate will be crying tears of gratitude for finally becoming worthy of it, of you, beautiful Li’Tala.”

Their second meeting as young adults was not… frictionless. But as childish as it was, Tala never wavered in this little dream of hers. Who cared that it was immature, she didn’t allow exceptions, even though the Omaticayan prince bristled hard when not given one.

Neteyam always remembered this of her, yet her insistence and denial of him now made his body feel that much more frozen-numb.

He chased after her skin and stuck his tongue out to taste its natural salt, reminding him of the first time they had reunited. Her taste and her everything, his whole body was shaking for it.

“Li’Tala, Li’Tala…”

“Neteyam–stop–” Now Tala started to squirm in his desperate hold. She could feel his hardening arousal between them, settling so perfectly against her vulva. She pushed against him.

“You need sleep, not a fuck.” She hissed. Tala shivered as the soldier switched between licking, sucking, and biting lightly along the tanhi on her shoulders and chest.

“I need you, Li’Tala.” He rasped deeply. She ignored the way his voice made even her toes curl because now her blood was pumping far too loudly. What did he just say to her? Was he losing his mind, what pills did he take??

“Eywa, get a grip!” 

He suckled at the flesh of her tits, Tala shoved his face away with the thick metal of the inhibitor cuffs. He groaned and settled for simply pulling her onto his lap closer than ever, taking a break from his ministrations.

She huffed, she was panting much harder than she realized.

“What happened, what did you see?”

Great mother or whatever being out there, if there ever was one…  what could he do to make her realize his ache for her?

“... I need your help, Li’Tala.” He started, fangs catching onto her skin as he spoke. It all made her freeze, she peered down and tried to gently bring his face back towards hers. He let her and looked up at her, she caught herself thinking it was as if he was beseeching her. There was no way.

“I need to forget it. I know you can help.” He said, sunspot yellow met with her cool green. She knew she could to, it’s just…

“Stop calling me Li’Tala” She tried again, this time much more softly. He groaned.

“Let me pretend.” He whispered hotly, his fingers reaching for her cheek. His fingertips barely touched hers and yet she felt only heat.

He still felt so cold.

She gulped. What did pretending mean, what was he thinking of? Tala usually felt like she was the one getting burnt by him, now it seemed like he was starving for her kindling because now… his fire was weak. He was begging her.

Tala bit her lips, frustrated, conflicted. She could just do the same to Neteyam as she did with Halloway, she didn’t need to comfort him.

The Tawkami glanced at her wrists still heavy with metal inhibitors, he needed her?

She would blame her drowsiness for it, just… fuck it. Fuck it.

“You follow my lead then.” Tala whispered and Neteyam swore he could feel his cock twitch at her tone. He nodded eagerly.

Tala then smashed their lips together. His tongue immediately sought inside her, to explore the cavern of her teeth.

She was practically sitting on him now. She could feel his bulge dig into her thigh, he was pawing at her, palming whoever fat he could. He groaned into her perfume.

Tala shushed him softly. She raised her hips just enough for him to frantically shove down his sweats and Tala delicately pushed the tawtute tewng to the side, it squeezed her pink and puffy folds so perfectly that it made him nearly weep. He was already leaking as he heaved, not noticing the bitter look on her face.

“Don’t worry.” She cooed so nicely in contrast. Her voice was like those tawtute myths he was told about by his father, angelic. She slowly and carefully sunk down her pelvis, his cock head breached her open none too gently and she muffled a high-pitched moan, letting Neteyam’s hard shaft split her open. The stretch ached but she kept her voice even and breathy.

“Be good.” She whispered and waited for his reply. The soldier groaned, every strand of muscle forcing him to not push her down right there and then.

Tala sunk down completely it made Neteyam groan harshly and loudly at the feeling of her tight and warm walls surrounding him. His nerves were shot. Naturally, he was about to fuck into her heat when she did it for him. She dragged her hips up unbearably slowly, both reveling how her cunt squeezed each ridge, so hot, so tight.

“Stay still.”

She slammed her hips down with a ferocity that made both of them moan loudly, she nearly cried out. She started to bounce, holding onto Neteyam’s broad shoulders for support.

“Mmmm…” Tala moaned low, each moan punctuated every time she felt her ass slap against his thighs. He moaned with her, finding himself on the receiving end of her fast pace. He groaned into her hair wantonly, cock twitching inside her.

“Fuuckkk, hahh, fuck.” He cursed softly then latched his mouth on his first mark on her. She stopped suddenly and it embarrassed him how nearly he fucking whined.

“No biting.” She cooed and Neteyam thought he was being driven insane tonight. Today. Since he had taken Tala.

He growled but nodded, settling into a tight embrace instead. He looked at her expectantly, was this allowed?

Tala’s smile was enough to replace the ache for stars he usually felt whenever he looked up in his room.

Then his eyes nearly rolled back when she slammed and bucked harder onto him.

“F-uuuck, haaah, aangh~” Tala graphically moaned into his ear. She panted and her tits bounced as she pistoned herself on his cock. “Aahhh, nnnggg…” she quietly moaned, angling her hips just so to make the fat tip brush against her sweet spots. Neteyam rutted into her uncontrollably, losing himself as he mindlessly chased her warmth. His mouth was open in a silent moan, holy shit.

Tala’s so fucking wet now and she rolled her pelvis to award herself louder moans from Neteyam’s lips.

“Li’T-tala, so good, fuck you’re so good.” He praised, face still stuck to the crook of her neck. She switched her pace and started rotating her hips, rolling them as she still lazily stroked herself along his shift. She felt her self-satisfaction spike when the soldier’s yellow eyes rolled up and fluttered, pupils were so blown out. She admitted he was adorable like this too.

She brought Neteyam’s hand to her belly, pushing down his hand with hers against the bulge there. They both groaned deeply at the sensation, Tala was near hiccuping from the pleasure. A toy that she was, she had only a toy’s ability to see Neteyam unravel. And she chased it hungrily.

His vulnerable expression contorted from the pleasure. To say Tala’s pussy was the best medication he’s had all week would be an understatement.

“Am I doing good, mighty warrior?” Tala squeezed her walls tight for good measure, a moan ripping out her throat as she did. It was worth it, hearing Neteyam’s louder and deeper one that ended with his teeth back on her skin. He quickly ripped his head back when he remembered her little rule.

“So fucking good, please. Fuckk…” He groaned, massaging her belly now even harder, the thought alone made him want to cum. Tala gasped.

“Mmmm, nnng!!” She squealed, and she fucked herself on his pulsating and thick cock even faster, the squelching sounds fueled the both of them.

Plap, plap, squelch, the mattress started to creak. The soldier switched to holding onto her hips, just to make each thrust that much deeper, to feel her cunt flutter at every brush near her cervix and Tala was seeing stars.

Each ridge and thick vein on his shaft was melting and massaging her cunt. She was enjoying herself fully, from the perspective of the toy she was. He certainly needed this toy so badly now.

“Mmm, mmm!! Haah, hahh, is this really helping? Is your toy pleasing you? Maybe we should stop…” She teased, suddenly slowing down, and was delightfully surprised when he mindlessly begged.

“NO! Fuck, please, dont’s-stop, such a good toy, Li’Tala. So fucking wet, so fucking tight.” He blathered, arms only tightening around her desperately.

Tala threw her head back when Neteyam reached between them, with intense accuracy, to squeeze her clit.

“Oahhh!! Mmmg- Neteyam!” She cried out, the sounds of slapping skin made him laugh dumbly. Their pelvises were completely covered in each other’s slick.

“Take my cum, Tala, need you to take all my cum..” he muttered into her ear and he used his grip on her clit to guide Tala’s pace, she was so close now. 

“Don’t stop, so fucking good ma’fil, Li’Tala…” he breathed out, his voice unsteady and deeply tinged in pleasure. The way Neteyam husked her name made her pussy walls convulse.

“Haa, haaa, ahh, I’m close~! I’m close, Nete-yam, Neteyam, so close, close!” Tala whined and dug their pelvises so tightly together that her pearl of nerves rubbed harshly against his toned muscle. She grinded on him wildly, his cock hitting her gummy walls so good, she abused her sweet spots with him.

“So hot, so hot…” he was praising her, the sight of her had made him completely forget how he felt like he was freezing just moments ago. Her soft breasts bouncing, torso in a light sheen of sweat and her eyes so fucking focused on him, her cunt was devoted to squelching lewdly every time she grinded on him.

He was close too, he could feel how heavy his balls were now and without either of their warnings, Neteyam spilled his load into her, it made her mewl as she came hard with him.

Black spots dotted their vision as they painted, their juices had overflowed inside Tala and usually the sight would irritate Neteyam, making him wanna fuck it back into her.

But Tala didn’t mind the mess. In fact, she wanted more. After a few seconds, she rolled her hips again and even though they stuttered, she felt herself able to overcome the crackles of overstimulation.

Her hands delicately laced through his hair to gently stroke at the base of his kuru.

Neteyam hissed loudly and squeezed onto her ass in warning, barely able to stop himself from bucking into her overflowing cunt.

Too fucking soon, the sensation of her pink flesh was overwhelming, the friction was making his muscles involuntarily twitch, he groaned as he rested his head back.

“What’s wrong? You don't want to?” Tala asked, her voice soft and sultry. The question just sounded like the deadliest taunt to him. She was rotating her hips and twisting him from inside her, his cock felt like it was being choked in different ways, squeezed and massaged in a way he hadn’t been before. She was fucking milking him, Neteyam only dumbly shuddered and thrusted upwards weakly.

Her tiny pussy was soaking him, his balls, and his mattress but that didn’t matter when it was the only thing on his mind, her gummy flesh was the only thing reminding him he was still breathing. 

After what felt like an eternity of the most delicious torture, Tala finally screamed her last climax and mercifully stopped, shivering from aftershocks of pleasure. She had pulled so much more ropes of cum from him and just staying inside her nearly made him cum again, it made Neteyam whimper low and hotly, his golden eyes barely able to stay open. Tala finally collapsed on him, muscles were burning and she was breathing heavily, but the look on his face made it all so worth it.

She was impressed with herself, her body was heavy with what felt like deep buckets of creamy liquid spilling out of her. She noticed now how tightly his tail had encircled her thigh, a slight mark left from it now.

“Fuck… Li’Tala…” Neteyam drawled out wearily, he collapsed onto his back and brought her with him. Her full name brought back shudders along her spine, the way he said it was positively lewd and so, so, intimate.

Tala hummed, fully able to feel the slowly calming pulse on his neck. She licked her lips, she was enticed. Not one had she left marks on him, she never felt a desire to.

The Omaticayan breathed hard, when he felt her fangs push past her perfect lips and onto his skin. It wasn’t deep, barely a bruise, but Tala finally figured out why he enjoyed doing it to her so much. The way his scent covered her face and somehow she could taste it in his skin was intoxicating.

She licked the small wound while Neteyam fought internally how horny he instantly became again despite his exhaustion. Tala hummed, the two too tired to even look at each other from where they rested.

“Good boy…” She said softly before fading into slumber. Only Neteyam could feel how hard his cock twitched when he heard her whisper. They were fucked out and warm and his miserable dreams were nothing but fuzzy images.

His own consciousness was fading fast and any shiver his body felt was definitely from no bite of cold, regardless of the sweat. Now it was more like pinpricks of pleasure and pain, definitely distracting. Neteyam closed his eyes.

He embraced Tala tenderly, he breathed in her hair, and his mind was completely soothed. He slept wholly to Tala, to the smell of her sweetness, the beat of her heart, the sound of her breath, choosing to forget about those damned dreams and his damned existence.

He breathed out once again, vague recollections of fire licking at his skin.

Neteyam forced the thoughts away by lightly running his fingers on the mark Tala just left on him, barely aching, he could only find it by carefully sensing the barest indentation. He then felt for the one he left on Tala all that time ago, the texture of the scar made it much easier.

Both comforted him, grounded him, he didn’t notice the way his tail wagged a bit too contently. All of his muscles relaxed and gratefully his sleep was dreamless.

His last thought was how much he enjoyed calling her Li’Tala than ma’fil.

tag list: @xylianasblog @itchaboi-itchyboy @hotdsworld @pandoraslxna @luvv4j4ybe11 @neteyamsyawntu @akoyaxs @whatevenisagrapefruit @teyamsatan @justcaptiannoodles @theblueflower05 @neteluvr @neteyamssyulang @plooto @hao-ming-8 @teyamsilly @vivid-ink @vampirefilmlover

notes: hi! finally getting into the plot portion of the fic lol, hopefully this will be all finished v soon! maybe 2 or 3 more chapters? hope yall enjoy~

[sinsandsweetness]

Shane. Shane’s stuck in my head. I wonder if he and Rick got up to any shenanigans late at night in the police station with a cute girl…. I know Rick probably just watched but dang. Just thinking about it 👀 and if Merle and Daryl were in the drunk tank next to the cell…..

Shane is forever stuck in my head <3 I usually don't go for the pre-apocalypse au's but damn. this one got me dreamin' and drooling....

pairing- (Shane x fem!reader)

cw- dub con? just a power imbalance more than anything, mentions of drunk driving, very suggestive but no actual smut. 1.4k wc

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You walk past the two officers, both a little shocked by your vulgar language. Reaching the bars and seeing Merle grinning like a madman. Drunk. Clearly. Smelling of bourbon and poor decisions. 

“Aw, sugar-tits! I knew you’d come. Daryl says you wouldn’t n’ I says oh yesss she will,” he slurs his words. “And here you are! Our saving grace.”

You immediately turn to face Daryl. Bags under his eyes, elbows leaning on his knees while he sits on the bench. Clearly just as tired and irritated as you are. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You smack him on the shoulder with your bag. “I could barely pay rent this month. There's an eviction notice on my damn door and you think I can afford to bail your lousy, drunk of a brother out of- "

His eyes go wide at your confession, shooting up to grab your hand. 

“You don’t have to keep living with that loser, you know you can come stay with me-“

You shake him off. Blood starting to boil with irritation. “That’s not the point, Dare! I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep saving his ass whenever you two need it.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Attempting to contain the flood of emotions that the week's events are summoning. 

“How much is it?” you brace yourself for the worst. Subconsciously knowing that whatever disgusting number you were picturing, would still be better than whatever Daryl was about to say.

“… 500.” 

“Fuckin' hell, Dare.” He gives you a look that reflects exactly how you feel. Apologetic. Angry. And so fucking tired.

With a deep breath, you tell him you’re going to try and talk to the cops that brought Merle in. To see if there's any way you can work something out. 

Pulling your skirt down slightly, in an attempt to be more modest for the police than you are for the men you wait on, you make your way over to the men. The tall one, dark hair and handsome in an almost intimidating way, is standing at the counter, chewing on a toothpick. The other is just as handsome, though in a softer way. Pretty blue eyes and an unsurprising wedding band adorning his left hand. He sits behind the desk as he fills something out on the computer. The satisfying click and clack of the keyboard, times almost perfectly with that of your heels on the grey linoleum. 

You approach the two with your sweetest smile, full of remorse. Your pretty eyes scream 'pity me' and you pray that the officers are kind enough to listen.

Immediately, you notice the way that the dark haired one stares down your blouse as you come to a stop. Taking a little breath for courage before starting your little spiel. 

“Hi.” You can't help but blush a little at the look that Officer Handsome is giving you. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What can we help you with?” He licks his lips and can't seem to contain the way they curl into a cheeky grin.

“My friend there, the uh, dumbass behind the bars…. well, you see he’s just, um…” pull yourself together, baby. “He fucked up. And I know that. He knows that. Even if it doesn't really seem like it. He really fucked up and if this were any other week, me and his brother over there, we would have more than enough money for his bail. We just.. Um, don't have it right now. So, I was wondering if there's any way we could work something out, like a payment plan or…”

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks, obviously uninterested in your proposal. 

Mouth agape at the bold interruption, you respond hesitantly, glancing back at Daryl for a second.

“Uh, no but…” 

“Really? Pretty boy over there… he’s what? Just a friend?” he nods towards Daryl, who can't quite hear but is obviously intrigued, and trying to assess how the conversation is going.

“Yeah, we're just friends… why?” 

He ignores your question again, hand coming up to touch the cross pendant on your chest, “Cute necklace.” He smirks again, this time at the way your breath hitches at his touch. Fingers moving over to play with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. 

“Shane.” The officer at the desk scolds his partner. Unimpressed but seemingly unphased by his behaviour, not even glancing up from the document he's reading.

“Ricky, c'mon. Look at her. Ain’t she gorgeous? What the hell are you doin' hanging out with these idiots?”

Apparently Daryl could hear that remark because you hear a faint, unimpressed, “Hey!” come from the bench behind you. 

“Dare, sit down.” You tell him, with a scowl on your face as he sighs and sits back down and leaned into his hands once again. Praying for the night to just be over already.

“His brother is the idiot, he’s just… too loyal for his own good.”

The officer, Shane, nods his head, continuing to inspect you. Black mini skirt and button up blouse, curly hair cascading over your shoulders. Smelling like vanilla and vodka and whatever body oil is making your long legs shimmer so beautifully in the fluorescent lights.

“What are you doin’ up this late, anyway?” he asks. Apparently intrigued by your attire.

“I'm a waitress. I was just walking home from the bar as I got their call.” The constant dreaded call to come bail Merles drunk driving ass out of jail. 2:00 am on a friday, and you should have known they'd get themselves into trouble.

“You know, this is his third time. We've already taken his license. Impounded his car. If you don't have the money then…there's really not much I can do.” Shane tells you, that wicked grin still splayed on his face.

“You can leave him 'til morning, come back when you have the money.” Rick offers, finally putting the papers down and leaning back in his chair. One boot crossed over his knee as he relaxed into the leather cushion.

“And how the hell do you propose I come up with 500 dollars overnight?” You try not to sound so rude, but you’re tired and cold and Merles drunk babbling from the cell is really starting to piss you off.

The two men share a look and you feel goosebumps raise on your bare legs.

“Pretty girl like you… shouldn't be too hard.” Shane says, flicking his toothpick into the bin.

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, “I'm not some kind of whore, you know.” You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling a little exposed in the excessively cold air conditioning.

“Of course not. That’s not what I meant, sweetheart.”

“Then what'd you mean, huh?” 

“Yeah, Shane, what did you mean?” Rick crosses his own arms, entertained by his friend getting himself stuck in such an awkward predicament. 

“Yeah, Shane. Why don't you expand on that for us.” You lean against the counter and he shakes his head with an annoyingly attractive laugh, which you can't help but smile at. Forcing you to forgive his crude suggestion almost immediately.

“You gonna give me your number or what?” he says, leaning up beside you.

“I’ll give you a whole lot more than my number if you can get his bail waved.” You bite your lip and nod towards Merle in the holding cell.

“Thought you said you weren't a whore.” 

“Shane-” Rick hisses, warning his friend to tone it down. They're supposed to be officers of the law after all. Though you aren't really offended. You would fuck the man for free if he asked.

“You got an office here or something?” Your left hand starts to play with the keys on his belt, slowly making their way to the buckle, where you tap your french tips a few times, looking up at him with a look so sickeningly sweet, his cock actually twitches. 

He thinks for a moment, letting you pull at the leather band until he’s flush with your core.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, realizing you’re actually serious. Deciding to give in to your downright sinful suggestion. “Rick. Turn off the cameras in the interrogation room.” He turns to his partner. Blue eyes, all wide and dumbstruck.

“Shane, that’s illegal-”

Shane grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the room, talking over his shoulder, “Rick. Cut the fuckin’ cameras." His lips brush your ear as turns to whisper, nudging you forward, "I’d ask him to join, but I already know he won't." You smirk at his confession, looking back at Rick and silently wish the ring on his finger wasn't there.

Shane directs his attention at Rick once more, "You can watch from the glass if you’re feelin’ left out.” 

You can't help but giggle as you enter the room. Empty, aside from a metal chair and table. Shane pauses at the doorway, catching the attention of Daryl from down the hall.

“You too, pretty boy. This is for your brother's sake after all.”

-continued here

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @eternalrose81 @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee

(what the hell do I name this fic??)

also I don’t know shit about jail so… don’t come for me lol

[oftenwantedafton]

Triptych - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader x Mike Schmidt

Rating Explicit

Warnings - sexual content, bisexual characters, date rape drugs, non/dub con

Also available on AO3

Mike has a bit of a thing for Abby’s just barely legal babysitter.

He swears it wasn’t always like this; that he didn’t just hire you because of the way you look in your Catholic schoolgirl uniform or on those days when you have gym last period and you’re wearing a polo shirt and shorts with the school’s emblem that hug every curve while leaving just enough to the imagination when he picks you up and drops you off at his house before going to work.

He definitely doesn’t jerk off in the bathroom with the door securely locked thinking about you on your knees with your pink lips wrapped around his cock. Never that.

God he was turning into such a pervert.

And this would all be bad enough, a laundry list to confess at church if he ever gets brave enough to go back, but to make matters infinitely worse, he’s kind of got a thing for your stepfather, too.

He supposes he’s always been one of those people who just follows what he’s attracted to, gender rather insignificant. In truth there’s never been a man that he’s been this hot for before, either.

It’s going to take a few beers to get Schmidt to admit that he enjoys it when your stepdad insists on picking you up, saving him another trip and more importantly providing him with another chance to admire the social worker. He enjoys it even more when the older man doesn’t just wait for you in the car and actually comes inside to chat for a few minutes. Sometimes Mike offers him a Brewski but, alas, he always declines. Steve has to do the right thing and drive sober, even though he highly doubts one beer would be even remotely enough to affect a tall drink of water like Steve Raglan.

So now the stepparent joins Mike’s collection of lewd fantasies, helping further speedrun him straight to Hell. He likes the silver eyes and the silver threads in his hair and beard and the way his hand rests splayed on his stepdaughter’s lower spine as he guides you out the evergreen shaded front door. He’s trying but failing to not imagine what it would feel like for that spread of fingers on his own spine, sliding through sweat, clutching skin, digging in when the way he works his mouth is just right and now you’re there, too, shared between himself and your stepfather and fuck, he cums harder than he ever has in his life, staring up at the poster of Nebraska pinned above his bed; at those tall, tall trees stretching up, the branches reaching futilely for Heaven.

So yeah. He’s got a lot of that Catholic guilt going on. But it’s not enough to stop him from wanting.

***

Another night. Abby’s tucked in and Mike’s tucking cash into your palm. Steve’s in the car tonight. Pity.

“My stepdad wanted me to invite you over for dinner next week,” you say.

“Oh. Uh, yeah sure, I’ll just have to check to see if one of the neighbors can watch Abby.”

You nod. He likes the way the struggling bulb of the porch light flickers over your features. Sometimes bright, sometimes in shadows. He can’t really see inside the car from this distance but he knows Steve is watching.

“I’ll get back to you on what night works, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll tell Steve. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Thanks again.” He watches you walk down the driveway, to the vintage luxury sedan that the middle aged man drives. He wonders how long he’s maintained it. The thing still looks like it just came off the showroom lot. A lot of time and care invested. Patience.

He wonders if maybe Steve has been waiting for another investment to pay off, too.

***

Mike’s not accustomed to dressing up. The last time he’d done so had been for his mother’s funeral, and that is definitely not a memory he wants to dwell on.

So he decides on a button front shirt and tie. Dark trousers. His socks are probably the worst part of the outfit. They’re mismatched and definitely not the kind of dressy ones that you’re supposed to wear. The shoes have seen better days. He’s really not much for clothes and he doesn’t spare much time taking proper care of them. They’re scuffed and the laces are frayed. There’s no hope for it. Hopefully neither you nor your stepdad will notice.

He walks his little sister next door. Says he’s not sure what time he’ll be back, maybe four hours or so.

The directions to Raglan’s house are sitting beside him on the passenger seat.

He’d spoken to Steve earlier that day to get directions. You’d given your stepfather Mike’s phone number.

His voice in person was attractive enough, Mike supposes. Sort of an odd combination of gravel and nasal, a blend of low and higher pitch when he got animated about something. He much prefers the lower tone, like the one he’d used over the phone. Practically purring like a cat. Mike had found his pants getting extremely tight with that breath in his ear.

The house is nice. Older, but tidy. He wonders if it’s ever difficult for Steve to be here since he’d lost his wife in a drowning accident a few years back. Did he ever think of dating again? Or was the memory too strong?

Mike shuts the door of his rusted sedan. It looks so out of place next to Raglan’s immaculate specimen. He feels out of place. He shouldn’t have come empty handed, but he has no idea of what wines are good and he didn’t want to bring the wrong kind. So. He presents himself empty handed, ringing the doorbell.

You open the door and smile at him. He’s only ever seen you in school clothes. Tonight you have a light pink sweater and white jeans. It compliments your skin tone well. Still clean faced, no makeup. Hair neat and tidy, nails polished to match the sweater.

“Let the man in, it’s cold out there.” Steve’s voice calls over your shoulder.

You giggle and murmur an apology and pull the door wide open, granting Mike entrance into the Raglan household.

“Mike. How are you? Come in,” Steve greets you warmly from an open doorway to the left. “You can just give your coat to her.” He shrugs out of the jacket and hands it to you, following your stepfather into the living room.

“I didn’t know being a social worker paid so well. This place is nice,” Mike murmurs. The couch looks new, plush microfiber. Bookshelves and a fireplace and art on the wall that looks like an original, not some cheap knockoff.

The tall man laughs. “Well, it’s not all from that source of income. I used to own a business. Made some wise investments. We can discuss it sometime, if you’d like.”

“What kind of business?”

“A restaurant,” Steve says.

“Must have been pretty upscale, huh?”

“Well it wasn’t a Michelin star type, no. But it was pretty, yes,” he muses, his voice softening, his eyes looking distant.

“What happened to it? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, it’s still around. Closed but…I could never quite bring myself to let it go.” He smiles softly. “So enough about going down memory lane. Have a seat. I hope you’re not going to be too upset, but we’re having dinner delivered. Work ended up being particularly busy today, and…”

“No, that fine. Whatever’s okay.” He sinks into one of the couch cushions.

“Great. Well, it should be here in a half hour or so. Want something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be right back.” He winks at him. An honest to goodness deliberate wink. Mike shifts in his seat, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

The phone rings after Steve leaves. He can hear his muffled voice from the other room. He drags his damp palms over his thighs. He’s so nervous.

“Hey, my stepdad said to give this to you.” You walk into the room carrying a pair of wine glasses filled with something pink that’s a shade darker than your sweater. You hand him the fuller one. “That one’s yours.”

“Oh, um…” Well. One glass of wine was fine. He’d certainly driven home drunker than that before. “Thanks,” he accepts the glass and takes a sip. Wine has never really been his thing, but to be honest, he could use the alcohol to take the edge off right now. “Does your dad—I mean stepdad—usually let you drink?”

You shake your head. “Never. But he said it’s a special occasion.” You take a cautious sip, frowning over the taste.

Mike takes another swallow, watching as you sit down next to him. So many seats available and you choose this one.

You sample more of the drink. “It’s warm in here, isnt it?” Your cheeks are definitely more flushed. Man, you were really a lightweight.

“That’s normal. You get warm when you drink alcohol. The blood vessels dilate. Maybe you should slow down,” Mike cautions.

“Sorry about that. Work. They just can’t seem to manage without my guidance.” Steve apologizes as he strides back into the room, carrying what Mike presumes is the wine bottle that you’ve been drinking from. No glass for him. He settles on the opposite end of the couch from the younger man, his thigh very close to his stepdaughter’s. “What have we been chatting about? Anything interesting?”

“Can I have some more? I’m really thirsty.” Your voice sounds…off. Not intoxicated, but something else.

“Of course you can, sweet girl. But not too much. We don’t want you passing out. At least, not quite yet.” He tips the open bottle into the now empty glass, helping you to hold it steady.

The older man takes a swig from the bottle, sighing in satisfaction. Mike can only stare open mouthed. What, exactly, was happening?

“Well, at least she gave you the right glass.”

“I’m sorry?”

Steve shakes his head. He rests a hand on your knee. “I’ll give you credit, Mike. You’ve been nothing but polite and respectful to her so far. Almost as if you’re not drowning in impure thoughts the remainder of the time. I know your type.” He smiles but there’s no humor in that curve of lips.

“I…I don’t know what you’re…”

“Oh, Mike, come on. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve had to play the dear devoted stepfather who tragically lost his second wife in an accident for the last several years. Just waiting for the right moment. I think I’ve waited long enough. Don’t you agree?”

“Steve…” Mike begins, unsure of how to proceed. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He’s ashamed to say there’s an echo of that pulse further south, too.

“Oh, and by the way, dinner is canceled. Finish your drink,” Raglan coaches you gently. A little of it spills from the corner of your mouth.

“Did you…did you put something in…”

“Just something to relax her. I’m starting to think maybe you need some, too,” Steve manages to tear his eyes away from your damp lower lip, glaring at Mike.

“This…this is so fucked up…”

“And yet you’ve been fantasizing about it for how long now? Weeks? Months? Did you even ask what her qualifications were when you interviewed her for the babysitting job, or did you just drool over her thighs and say yes?” Steve’s hand drags slowly up his stepdaughter’s leg. Your eyes are glassy, dazed, struggling to focus.

Mike swallows loudly.

“I’ve more than paid my dues. Time to collect. You can either share in the plunder or not. I leave it at your discretion. But if you tell anyone about this, I can assure you it will be the last mistake you ever make.”

“You’re not…you’re not going to hurt her, are you?”

“Of course not. I mean, it’s probably going to be a little bit sore when I take her virginity, but, well, that’s to be expected. Maybe with the drugs she won’t even feel it. She certainly won’t remember it.” He threads his fingers through your hair. “You’ve made a bit of a mess of yourself, sweetheart. Let Daddy help you clean it up.”

He laps at the corner of your mouth and Mike’s cock lurches. He knows he should not be having any part of this, he should be calling the police, getting you the fuck away from this man, but he’s too mesmerized by the perverse scene that’s playing out before him. For him.

Steve tugs your head back gently and shoves his tongue between your lips, groaning. You don’t struggle. There is no protest. You’re soft, malleable, pliant beneath him.

The older man breaks the kiss, panting. “So fucking perfect. I’ve always loved that mouth.” He kisses you again. “Want to have a taste, Mike?”

He does.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

A.N.: It's not as murdery as it sounds 😅 But, as per usual: minors DNI. It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

1. Specialty Ingredients

Steve watches, mouth literally hanging open, as it happens again: his date is stomping away, mad.

He just called Steve a scrawny, cock-teasing twink for making out a little on the sidewalk, but then declining to go back to his place to hook up. The guy pressed the issue and Steve got frustrated and told him tersely that he wasn't interested because they just met, okay? That went over like a lead balloon.

Steve scowls as the jerk disappears around the corner at the end of the block. “Well fuck you too,” he mutters, feeling put out—and okay, a little hurt, too. He’s not a cocktease. He’s not scrawny.

Well, maybe that second one is kind of true, but Steve hates how guys will act like they’re into his small stature when they think he’s a sure thing, but then get all derogatory and mean about it once he tries to tell them he’s looking for more than a hookup and wants to take it slow—and not even hetero people slow; gay guy slow, which is super fast in comparison! Steve just wants to get to know a guy for once before sleeping with him. Is that really so bad?

He huffs and turns around, walking dejectedly back to his car. Another handsome asshole, another hope dashed, another pathetic date. He really does have the worst luck, and he’s getting plain sick of it. He checks his phone before he drives away.

Clint: Well???

Steve sighs. He types back a reply to his friend

Steve: another dud

Clint: dude …

Steve rolls his eyes and chucks the phone onto the passenger seat. He turns the key in the ignition, the radio coming on to an old eighties love ballad that just worsens his sense of dejection. “Fucking figures,” he mutters, putting the car into drive.

He leaves the song playing though, because sometimes wallowing is called for.

The next morning, Steve wakes up in a glum mood. He tries to focus on his work for most of the day, rather than his horrible luck with dating, but as he paints the hours away he winds up pouting about it anyhow. He sinks further and further into a depressing pit of self-pity and despair.

Clint texts him, asking if he wants to go out and sing karaoke or something, and Steve knows he’s just trying to cheer him up and all, but he really can’t stand the thought of being cheerful right now.

Steve hates gay guys, he thinks, stomping over to the crappy small sink in his crappy small apartment’s kitchen. He runs the water and rinses off his brushes with a vengeance they don’t deserve. Gay guys suck. Steve hates how shallow they all are, how vapid and self-centered. All they want is to go clubbing and fuck around and that’s it. None of them want a real relationship, and they think Steve is boring for wanting to have a meaningful conversation instead of suck their dicks right away. He gets grumpier about it the more he thinks, and he even has the thought that at least if he were straight he could find someone with feelings, a desire for genuine connection. “Gay guys suck,” he mutters to his poor, abused paint brushes.

Nevermind that Steve himself is incontrovertibly homosexual and has no choice in the matter of what his dating pool consists of. After all: ‘Haters gonna hate, players gonna play’. “Gaays gonna gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.” Steve sings the tune under his breath. He just hates it, hates it all. He’s sick and tired of playing the game.

He sends Natalie a nastily self-deprecating text:

Steve: Know any of your girlfriends who might want to date a faggot?

It’s not nice, and he knows she won’t like him using that word in that context.

Natalie Potential Rich!! Buyer: another douche huh?

He sighs and texts back an apology with a huggy emoji.

Steve: Sorry 🤗 Just frustrated. All the good ones are taken and I’m not interested in the skanks who’re left over.

Natalie responds with the “Give that man a Snickers” Diva-meme, which makes Steve realize that he is, in fact, hungry. He needs to get something to eat. He needs to focus on himself for a change. Maybe it’s finally time to stop looking for Mr. Right and just enjoy Steve Rogers. Maybe he should join a gym, start a new hobby, anything to fill up his time with himself rather than another person. 

He goes into the kitchen, thinking that he’ll make something yummy and binge watch a new series off his Netflix list, but scowls at the barren interior that greets him when he opens the fridge door. Nothing good to eat. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s got to go to the grocery store now before he can sit down with a meal and relax.

And it’s raining outside, too. Just his fucking luck.

His phone ‘pings’ and he looks over at where he’d set it on the counter. The screen is lit up with a new notification from Grindr:

Henry super liked you!

He picks up the phone and opens the app. Henry’s profile pic is only from the neck down, showing off his abs. Steve rolls his eyes. The next picture is his lower half, a pair of tighty-whities stretched over his erection making it lewd, but still within the app’s no dick pic rules. The third pic is of his bare ass in a jockstrap.

Steve spends a second more than he intends appreciating the guy’s backside, but then he growls and jabs his finger at the screen to reject the guy. He’s fucking fed up with this entire thing! On a sudden, right-feeling whim, he exits the app and holds his finger down on the screen until all the icons start wiggling with their little x’s. He quickly proceeds to delete Grindr, Scruff, and Hornet from his phone.

He’s fucking done with dating. He’s giving up. Steve is just not meant to find Mr. Right. Not this year, anyway. He feels lighter after deleting the apps, and he slides his unburdened phone into his pocket with a sense of accomplishment and a shiny new idea: He’s not going to date for a whole year. He’s going to make this The Year of Steve.

Fuck yeah.

He goes to the hall closet to grab his umbrella and rain boots.

The walk to FreshMart is only four blocks from his apartment, but he still arrives at the grocery store a little damp from the gusting rain. He shakes off his umbrella by the door, grabs a basket, and directs himself towards the produce aisle. He’s added fingerling potatoes and some asparagus spears to his basket, and has just started perusing the meat section when he hears a man’s voice say, 

“Hey, have you ever had this?”

Steve looks over. The guy is holding up a package of bloody red … something. Steve blinks. “Um …”

The stranger twists his lips and shakes his head, looking at the meat. “It’s venison. I thought I’d freak my sister out with something a little different.”

“Your sister?” Steve asks, feeling very odd at being asked his opinion in the middle of the meat department. He looks between the package of raw meat and the stranger—He’s unusually handsome, tall and strong-jawed, brown hair styled in an effortlessly flattering cut. Steve licks his lips nervously. “Um, isn’t that like, deer meat?” He takes a step closer to peer down at the label. “Huh.” He didn’t know regular grocery stores sold that kind of thing. “That’s … exotic,” he says, for lack of a better word.

The stranger chuckles. “Yeah, well. I actually don’t eat animals, so …” he shrugs. “But her and her husband and kids are total carnivores. Thought I’d bring something other than my usual bottle of wine.”

“Oh.” Steve peers up at the man, trying to figure him out. The man smiles sheepishly and Steve winds up smiling, charmed, if somewhat baffled. He looks the man in the eyes and is taken by how pretty they are, how intense. Damn he’s good looking. “Well I, ah, couldn’t tell you what it tastes like. I’ve never had it.” He makes a face. “Like I said, it’s exotic.”

“Oh I love to cook with exotic ingredients. I’m kind of an amateur cuisinier. Or at least I try to be.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve gestures to the blood package. “But you ah … you don’t cook only vegetarian stuff?”

The man grins (and shoot, he’s got an unfairly attractive smile, too). “I guess I just like to satisfy other people’s appetites,” he says, lips parted enticingly. And then his tongue darts out in this totally casual, should-be-illegal sort of way. “I take it you’re a meat eater,” he says knowingly.

Is that a double entendre? Steve thinks it might be a double entendre. Yes! he wants to scream. Yes! He is 1000% a meat eater. He gulps as the guy’s eyes flick down and back up his body in a heated onceover, and Steve may not always be the brightest bulb in the box, but he can tell when he’s being considered. Is this guy really flirting with him? Here? In the freaking grocery store? Is that even a real thing that happens, anymore? Steve flushes and pulls his shopping basket up higher in front of himself, like a shield. “I–I see,” he stammers. “Well … um … yeah.” God, he’s hopeless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Venison’ll probably be … different.” He nods at the stranger, awkward and aware that the other man isn’t moving away. “Well. Good luck.” He turns and vacantly peruses the meats, pretending that he’s more invested in searching out the perfect porkchop than he really is. He hears the guy’s footsteps moving away.

“Fuck it,” the man says, and turns right back around. He takes a deep breath. “I like your boots.”

“What?”

The guy nods downwards. “Your rain boots. They’re really cute.”

Steve looks down at his feet. His rubber boots are pink and printed with the golden girls’ faces. He looks back up at the stranger, stunned. No straight guy on planet Earth would ever say such a thing. “Um. Thanks.”

The guy holds out his hand, friendly, like he’s not aware he’s acting weird as shit. “I’m James.”

Steve probably stares too long at the offered hand, before he hurries to shove the handles of his shopping basket up onto his one arm so that he can take the guy’s—James’—hand and shake it. It’s pleasantly large over his own hand. “Steve.”

James smiles. He’s arrestingly handsome when he doesn’t smile and Steve feels like an even weaker creature when he does. “Sorry,” James says, looking down shyly. “I uh, I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Steve asks, keenly aware that he may just be about to be propositioned. He winces at the idea of having to turn down another good-looking jerk.

James tilts his head. “Would you …” He hesitates, eyes flicking up and over as a woman passes them. She turns and goes down the soda aisle. He looks back to Steve, distracted. “I was gonna be crazy and ask for your number,” he says, flushing. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before James is scrubbing his hand over his embarrassed face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re probably not even—” He looks back to the soda aisle where the woman had gone. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, and starts to walk away. “Human disaster in the meat aisle. Just ignore me, please.”

“Wait!” Steve blurts. James turns back around. “Why do you want my number? Were you gonna ask me out? Like on a date?” He uses the word purposefully.

“Well, yeah.” James looks apologetic. “Sorry. I know it’s weird.”

It is weird. But Steve is kind of charmed by the guy’s odd methods. He promptly pushes away his resolution of The Year of Steve. “James,” he says, taking a step closer. “Um, you can. Have my number.” He peeks up at him shyly. “If you want.”

James' happy-surprised-enthused smile is the best one yet. They exchange numbers.

Clint: Wait, wat do you mean, the grocery store??

Steve: he came over and just started talking to me.

Clint: … that’s weird, man. That’s shady.

Steve: actually it was kind of cute. Kind of idk old fashioned.

Clint: Kind of weird. Whats his Insta?

Steve doesn’t hear from James for almost three days. He alternates between finding it refreshing, and being disappointed. Maybe Clint’s right. Maybe the guy was just a weirdo.

Then, on the third day, Steve is leaving from his morning shift at Michaels when he hears his phone ‘ping’ with a notification. When he sees the name “Weird Meat Guy” on the screen, his face splits in a grin.

Weird Meat Guy: Been thinking about you since the other day.

Happy butterflies come to life in Steve’s stomach at the flirtatious tone of the text. His first instinct is to force himself to ignore it for at least thirty minutes, so that he doesn’t seem overeager. But then he thinks, fuck it, just like James had said in the grocery store before turning right back around to ask him out.

Steve types a reply.

Steve: hey stranger. Yeah I was wondering how that venison worked out for you. 😂What’s it taste like?

Weird Meat Guy: I don’t eat animals, not even for my sister’s Sunday dinners. But she said it was fine. Not as good as regular old cow, though🐄🥩

Steve: not surprising.

There’s a bit of a pause where he can see James is typing and deleting and typing again. Then,

Weird Meat Guy: Do you want to go out tonight? We could grab drinks or something?

Steve bites his lip, bad memories of “casual” meetups and “just grabbing drinks” dates and what they’ve always led to, in the past.

Steve: let’s go out to eat. At a restaurant or something. A real date.

James texts back almost immediately, and his answer makes Steve beam like a fool.

Weird Meat Guy: Hell yeah. What’s your favorite kind of food?

Steve can’t help it; he has a good-verging-on-great feeling about this guy. He tries to tuck away his expectations that this time it’ll be different. He can still do The Year of Steve if or when this goes wrong. He’ll just try this one last time though. Just once more before he swears off being a “meat eater” for the year.

He tells James that he really likes Italian food, and the next thing he knows, James is sending him the link to a really nice and expensive Italian place in Brooklyn. Steve thrills at James' enthusiasm, and grimaces at the three dollar signs that Google has lined up beside the restaurant’s name.

He tells James okay, figures he’ll just tighten up his budget a bit for a few weeks after.

James meets him inside the restaurant, at the bar. He’s already got a drink in his hand. “It’s an old fashioned,” he tells him sheepishly. “Sorry to start without you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I just get a little nervous when I ask a cute guy out to dinner.”

Steve freezes, but then his mouth twitches. “Oh,” he says. “You, ah … you think I’m cute, huh?”

James grins and winks at him in a way that is devastating and should-not-be-allowed. “Yeah. I sure do.”

Steve is charmed.

The hostess seats them in a dark and cozy booth in the back of the restaurant. Steve settles in and looks around, impressed. “This is a really nice place,” he says, genuinely meaning it but also kind of anxious to open his menu and get a look at whatever prices garnered a $$$ on Google.

“Yeah it’s one of my favorites.” James is grinning at him from across the table. “I was so glad you picked Italian, cause then I knew I had the perfect place to bring you.”

Bring you. Steve looks down and tries not to smile too obviously at the words. “I like it so far,” he says, peeking up coyly at James so that he knows Steve doesn’t just mean the restaurant.

James seems to get it, if his expression is anything to go by.

They open their menus and Steve’s stomach drops at the forty dollar appetizers. Shit. He wishes he’d found a way to mention to James that he’s kind of a starving artist.

“Do you like mushrooms?” James asks, oblivious to Steve’s internal panic. He’s looking across the table at him with eager eyes. “They’ve got the best stuffed mushrooms I’ve ever had. I think they put crack in ‘em.”

Steve laughs despite himself, then decides ‘fuck it’ once again, and closes his menu with a nod. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.” He’ll live frugally for a month if he has to.

James orders them the appetizer and an entire bottle of wine that he knows by its specific name and year. All Steve makes out is the “‘94 ” part of it, and his heart rate picks up. He’s about to really worry about how the hell much a place like this is going to charge for an entire bottle of wine that’s older than he is, but then when the server delivers it and pours for them, James shoots him a wink and tells him, “S’my treat.”

Oh. Steve’s heart flutters as much at the gentlemanly gesture as it does at the possibility that maybe James will pay for the whole meal. A guy can dream.

The mushrooms arrive and Steve gushes to James about how he was right: they are amazing. They get to talking, covering the standard ‘first date’ questions, and it’s stupid and awkward like it always is; but also it isn’t, because James seems to laugh about the awkwardness of it, too. And that makes it kind of fun.

James is thirty-seven to Steve’s twenty-seven (Daddy kink: activated). He has a place in Manhattan but his sister lives in Brooklyn, which is why he was shopping at the FreshMart in Steve’s neck of the woods the other day. He’s got one parent still living, grew up with a loving family but “pretty poor” in Jersey. He hasn’t been in a relationship or even been on a date in “a really long time.” He wants to travel more but he lets his work consume him too much. He doesn’t eat animals.

He’s also really good at making the whole first-date interrogation-phase go smoothly. It’s fun with him, Steve realizes, not awful and strained like it usually would be. Their conversation just seems to flow naturally and easily, both of them smiling almost continually as they chat and joke.

Steve is utterly charmed.

“Okay,” James says, as he pops another mushroom into his mouth and then talks around it. “I’ll do another boring one: what do you do for work?”

Steve gulps and delays answering by taking a sip of the wine—a red that downright tastes expensive. “Um, well my passion is my art. It’s what I went to school for.” He tucks his lips in and shrugs. “But, ya know, ‘starving artists,’ and all that. So I work part time at Michaels, too.”

James doesn’t look like he’s thinking that Steve’s a stereotype or a loser or anything like that. “That’s awesome!” he says, sounding like he genuinely means it. “What kind of art? Or like, what medium do you work with?”

Steve blinks. Nobody ever asks him good questions like this, like they actually care and want to dig deeper into who he really is. “Um, mostly acrylics. Some watercolors and pencil-charcoal sketching,” he says, flustering at the way that James pays such close attention to his answers. “I like to mix it up sometimes, but mostly it’s those three.” He shrugs. “I sell online. I have one really loyal patron—she keeps me afloat. S’nothing that special.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff,” James counters, not letting him insist on his own mediocrity. “If you went to school for it and all, then you must be pretty good. Don’t you have to, like, audition for art school?”

Steve blushes and looks away. “Well. Yeah.”

“And I bet you get all your supplies cheap with the side gig, huh?”

Steve stares at him. “Yeah,” he says, impressed. “Employee discount.”

James nods sagely, as if he’s ever had to worry in his life about the utility of an employee discount. He might’ve grown up poor, but he’s clearly well-off now. Steve can tell that the suit he’s wearing is a custom tailored deal, and the wine he’s ordered for the table has a bouquet of oak and dollar bills. “I think it’s really brave of you,” he’s telling Steve, looking like he admires him or something ridiculous like that. “That you’re following a passion like that? That you can just …” he makes a shaping gesture over the table with his hands, “make something with your own two hands and then sell it? That’s incredible.”

The more James talks, the more Steve gets his hopes up that he might actually be A Really Great Guy™️. Steve can hardly stand to take all the compliments, so he turns the question back around on James: “What about you? What do you do for work?”

James hesitates. “... I’m a surgeon.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, making him look like A Gold Digger™️, probably. He closes his mouth. “Oh. Wow, that’s … that’s neat. Medical school, then, huh?”

James smiles through a wince, as if being a freaking doctor is no big deal. “Yeah. It was rough for a few years, but I got through it. I’m in a good place now. It’s pretty smooth sailing.”

“So do you work at like a hospital or something?”

“Not exactly.” He stares at him for a long moment, then suddenly says, “Gosh, I’m just really attracted to you, Steve.” Steve blinks, taken-aback. He reaches for a hurried sip of his wine and tries to think of a response to the weird shift in conversation. “Sorry,” James hurries. “I just felt like I had to say it.” He gives Steve a tender look rather than a lecherous one, which is a welcome change from the usual script. “I think I might really like you.”

Steve flusters and averts his eyes to the tabletop, peeking back up at James a few times. The guy is totally focused on him. It’s intimidating, but not in a bad way. “Yeah,” Steve eventually manages to murmur. “Yeah I think you might be nice.”

James teases him about the ‘nice’, and they fall into easy banter again as they finish the mushrooms and open up their menus to choose their entrees. Steve’s once again fixated on the prices, and he immediately starts trying to see if there’s anything under sixty dollars …

“By the way,” James says casually, not looking up from where he’s reading his menu. “I know this place is fucking ridiculous: I got it covered.”

He says it all easy and nonchalant, like it’s no big deal that he’s treating Steve to what’s probably a three hundred dollar dinner, and Steve once again feels like he’s on a date with a hero, a real gentleman. “Kay,” he says smally, feeling delighted and hopeful as heck on the inside. 

He orders a seafood linguini, and James gets a spinach and cheese tortellini dish. “This is so good,” Steve practically moans around a mouthful of his food. 

James makes a noise of agreement, stuffing another tortellini shell in his mouth. “Mmph.”

“So you really don’t eat any meat?” Steve winds up asking. “Like, not even fish or chicken or anything?” Where does he get his protein? James looks like he keeps in good shape …

James chuckles. “Nope. Haven’t touched the stuff for … gosh, almost fifteen years.”

“Wow.” Steve spears up another shrimp from his pasta and wonders if it offends James. “So like, is it an ethical thing or just …”

“No, no. I just kind of had this epiphany one day—while I was tenderizing a thigh, mind you—that all the things I was eating were living creatures, that we’re animals just like they are.” He makes a thoughtful face as he considers it. “It’s not a moral viewpoint so much as it is a …” he trails off and his eyes return to Steve with an apologetic shrug. “I dunno. My viewpoint shifted that day. Couldn’t shift it back. I’ve tried so many other things now, animal meat just doesn’t taste the same anymore.”

“I can respect that.” Steve wiggles his fork that’s speared with a juicy scallop. “As long as you don’t mind this.” 

“No, no way. Don’t you remember where we met?”

Steve snickers. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. What was it you said? You like to ‘satisfy other people’s appetites’?” He chances a flirty look across the table. “Wasn’t that how you put it?”

James chews, smirking, and he winks at Steve again. Goddamn. “Yeah,” he says lowly. “Yeah. I sure do.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant they stand close together, bundled in their jackets. Neither one of them seems to want to leave. “Thanks again,” Steve says. “For dinner. It was really nice.”

“My pleasure.” James takes a step closer, so that they’re almost toe to toe. “I was so excited to go out with you,” he says. He brings a hand up and traces the side of Steve’s face with the backs of his fingers, not looking at Steve’s eyes but rather where he’s touching his cheek. “You’re different,” he murmurs. "And I knew it the moment I met you."

Wow, what a fucking intense thing to say. Steve … doesn’t hate it. “I am?” he whispers, watching his breath swirl on the air between their faces.

“Mmhm. I can tell.” 

Steve shivers and fights the urge to press into James’ touch on his cheek. It feels unduly intimate, and they’re already so close. “I was excited for tonight, too,” he confides. “I’ve had a lot of bad luck with dating. Was getting sick of trying, to be honest.”

“But?” James asks softly, and Steve looks up at him, for once feeling open and honest enough to just admit,

“But I didn’t meet you on some app. And you liked my stupid Golden Girls boots.” James chuckles and Steve looks up, taking in his face up close: the dimple in his chin, the creases of age that’ve barely begun to collect at the corners of his eyes, that one tiny patch of grey in his beard. It makes him all the more insufferably handsome. “And you’re charming,” he whispers. “So there’s that.”

James smiles softly. “Aw, shucks.”

“I think you’re a really nice guy, James. I’d like to see you again.”

James' smile widens hopefully. “Yeah?” he says, leaning even closer.

“Yeah. I think, well … I just think …”

“What?” James touches his face again, this time palming his cheek. “Tell me.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’.” Steve finally lets his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling of James’ hand on his skin, the cologne he gets a whiff of when they’re standing this close. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you. Still haven’t told me what you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Oh, I’m just getting my hopes up about you, is all.” He’s still got his eyes closed when James kisses him. He inhales sharply through his nose, surprised. But he doesn’t pull away, and they just … keep kissing.

Eventually James cups his face with both hands and Steve moans, because the way James is kissing him feels so natural and good. He feels like he can taste James' good intentions as they make out softly, right there on the sidewalk.

When they part they’re both panting a little, heavy-lidded eyes flicking over one another, gauging, desire tinged with uncertainty. “That was …” James breathes.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and they both stare at each other for another long moment, before Steve says, “Fuck it,” and surges in to grab James by his jacket and kiss him again, this time harder. James whimpers needily into his mouth, and heat shoots through Steve’s belly at hearing it, arousal flaring to life faster than he can handle. Suddenly his pants feel a little tight, and he wants James so badly he can hardly stand it. “Oh man,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss, grimacing at himself for what he’s about to say. “I really, really never do this,” he promises against James' lips. “But … Do you want to go back to my place?”

James' eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

They kiss eagerly one more time and then hurry off, giddy, hands clasped, and headed in the direction where James says he’s parked his car.

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