#sludge life Double Double

[krenia]

some demon possessed me at 2am and forced me to draw them hhh can't believe that's how I get ripped out from artblock

[mortysmith]

umm sketchies of sludge life charas cuz ive been kind of obsessed with those games

[fancypantsrecords]

Big Mud - Sky Scrape / Double Bubble | Laced Records | 2023 | Blue

[clownfucker9000]

identical but not the same

[alienpossession]

Another take from my end on the continuation of this much-beloved story, this time solely focusing on Andrei & Mike as they meet the ill-fated Steven from the original series by @apushforfolly

Bodybuilding is a rather tight-knit global community. The people you competed back in Las Vegas would be your competitor again in Dubai, in London, yeah, you get the gist of it. So while the Prince is busy consolidating domestic power, what the Prince directed the rest of us to do is to basically get our grip within the bodybuilding community and the ever-growing and increasingly cocky finance bros as stealthy as possible. Sander handled the finance and all those podcast bros flocking to Dubai. Meanwhile, me and Mike are quite influential within the UK bodybuilding circles, and with us based in Dubai, we did leverage that to our benefit as we lured some of the aspiring talent and even several of our old friends for a free Dubai trip which would lead to the end of their life as freedom human entity. Take Rory over here, quite a rather close friend of Andrei before the Prince and then I took this British-Romanian hunk for a spin

Rory eagerly took the offer to rekindle the friendship that just severed out of a sudden as he based himself in Bali while Andrei got his mind fucked by me as I hyper-focused myself to serve the Master and enlarge his influence. I didn't like to waste my time so within the first day he landed, right after I showed him and his girlfriend around their apartment I said to be free of charge as it was still in the market anyway, I simply bitchslapped him until he passed out and then proceeded to infect his girl first, taking the delight of Andrei's fucked up mind that held grudges to Rory for stealing his first crush, her. She cried, obviously, and even harder when she could feel that something terrible is coming with my cock that somehow enlarged beyond her comprehension, because it almost doubled in length and clearly that's not normal and she knows that. As my contained sludgebros released like a damn broken faucet into her throat, her eyes rolled to the back as black sludge overflown her mouth. But she's quick to regain her consciousness and with her mind set to infect her passed out boyfriend, I simply put my sweatpants back on and left the two lovebirds to settle their business.

That's basically one example of our MO, but it's the most effective because these bodybuilders really trust each other, especially when they came from the same country. And when we reached more bodies, it means we have more field operatives to take care off potential puppets. For example, Nico, like Andrei, is Romanian, and he's been out from the spotlight for a while. But, his physique is still great and he's considered a legend among the younger bodybuilders. So, of course I utilized his eagerness to learn a thing or two to become relevant from Andrei as my entry into his tight straight cunt and basically turned him into a puppet.

The legend status he holds gives him easier access to reach the coaches and the more senior bodybuilders, not even a week and he's already turning Jerome Weeks into a puppet too, just look at that wide, slightly off-putting smile the two of them did, if people paid attention a bit more, clearly they can tell that something is a bit not right there

There's also this easily leveraged dynamic of leeching off each other or trying to be in the more influential person's good light, and Mike really milked the shit out of it. He's charismatic, he's also probably the most well-off among the others and you just don't want to mess with him as he can legitimately messed with your influencer career if you crossed him.

Olly and his older stepbrother Craig bumped to Rory and Mike in the middle of a gym, and of course they asked Mike and Rory for a quick pic. The two brothers already planned to utilize the picture for some clout but they are also legitimately looked up to Mike especially, hence the slightly tense pictures despite multiple takes.

What the two humans failed to realize was the fact that both Rory and Mike licked their lips as they watched the siblings walked giddily to the locker room after the pic sesh. They grinned to each other and decided to join the two brothers in the locker room to have some "pep talk". While Rory handled Craig, Mike sauntered the impressionable 20 years old blondie. At first excited to see his idol and tried to respectfully stand up, Olly found himself taken aback as Mike instead pressed Olly back to the seat and then smirked

"I see the potential from you, dude. You can be a jacked piece of shit in no time and fucking popular too. All you neeed to do is open up that mouth, I know you blondie want a piece of this meat,"

Bewildered, Olly tried to fight back but Mike asserted his dominance in a split second as Olly found himself unable to even stand up as Mike held his shoulder and forced him to stay seated

"Don't force me to use my strength, noob. Now, as I said before, you have the potential, just open up that pretty mouth and let me show you how to get big," Mike said with a shit-eating grin so uncharacteristic of him. His crotch just inches away from Olly's quivering lips, and from Olly's POV, he meant every single words he said. Olly still resisted, he tried to scream for help but Mike's hand quickly muffled his mouth, blocking him to even let out a sound. He simply wished that anyone will walk in and caught Mike red-handed, but it seems like it's not goint to happen anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, as his eyes wandered looking for any good samaritan that can help him out of this predicament, his eyes caught a bizarre sight as his married stepbrother bobbed his head up and down Rory's dick like a cum whore! Mike gleefuly said with sinister undertone

"Yeah, even your older brother knows it's the right thing to do. Heck, it's the only way to get big nowadays. It's time for you to also start accepting that as the truth. Now, I won't repeat myself again, open,"

Seeing the tight-lipped Olly, Mike then take the liberty to simply fish out his cock out from his workout shorts, revealing a mean-looking 7.5 incher semi-hard uncut meat throbbing with excitement. He's been going commando since this morning, and the tough workout regiment clearly caused him to accumulate quite some sweat in his crotch. Mike just grazed the tip of his meat right to Olly's pink lips before the young sophomore jock relented to the pressure. His throat felt sticky and sore from all the thrusting, but he found out that he got no gag reflex whatsoever which caused Mike to grin in the first few seconds after the entirety of his cock lodged into Olly's throat

"Ohhh fffuuuckkk you really meant to be a cocksucker bro!"

The whole facefucking lasted for about 6 minutes before Mike started to get tight and exasperated. When Rory and Craig circled around Olly, that's when Olly realized that something is not right when his stepbrother's eyes looking a bit empty and glazed. But not long from both Rory and Craig sauntered the both of them, Mike shot his copious load into the trembling Olly, his body went on a full seizure as the slug takes over his bodily system. Olly eventually regained his consciousness and the first thing he do is to cough out the sticky mess that filled his mouth when he passed out and replaced by an alien slug. He then smiled a very wicked smile

"Now, can I infect other human on my own?"

"Hahahahahah, love the spirit, but not so quick bro, not so quick,"

----

So when Steven Barnett, a bodybuilder with Mining Engineering degree, arrived in Dubai for an all-inclusive honeymoon after marrying his girlfriend for 3 years which also happened to be the daughter of a US Army General, the gym junkie decided to squeeze in several workout session since he knows some of his favorite bodybuilders are based in Dubai. Unfortunately for him, the Prince intel already put a target behind his back the moment he booked a flight to Dubai with his now-wife.

The penthouse arranged by Andrei, the tour around town with Rory, the workout sesh with Mike and Olly, everything is simply part of the plan to ensure that Steven is well-monitored 24/7 throughout his stay. The Prince believed that it's time for him to make another move after consolidating the power in Dubai, and America sounded like a solid plan. So, when Steven walked into one of the last gym that has been recommended by a lot of his online followers, it's already a trap ready to capture him to become yet another puppet in the growing collection of the Master. He's just simply oblivious to the fact that he posed with puppets controlled by mere black slug that looked like a pitch black oil he found in his day job.

[elementroar]

Flament Nagel, the Flaming Nail - Paracelsus theory(ies)

This was gonna go out earlier yesterday, but you know, Slayer happened lol.

I feel that ArcSys has been hinting that Paracelsus' 'true nature' is more complicated than described, even more than how his true form being kinda formless and his nature as a morph weapon that reacts to the emotions of his wielder.

So below is his appearance during A.B.A's Instant Kill move back in ACCENT CORE +R, which were a signature cinematic and flashy move that instantly destroys your opponent regardless of health. It's a retired game mechanic now in STRIVE.

So back in their previous appearance back in ACCENT CORE+R, this is the form Paracelsus briefly takes when performing A.B.A's Instant Kill, where he first flies up into the sky while she summons her door.

What’s interesting is it’s only in this form that we see him resemble his original name - Flament Nagel - which is misspelled German for “Flaming Nail”. In no other move or scene does he actually look or behave like a 'nail' that's on fire.

After their enemy is sucked into the door and it closes, Paracelsus returns but in Goku Moroha mode (the extreme mode above his usual Moroha mode) and slices the door in half to break it and ‘seal’ their enemy on the other side to ‘instant kill’ them.

He then slices the doors apart forcefully because he is actually rotated with his blade facing the door. Paracelsus is not facing us the audience in this animation. The 'face' facing us isn't his actual face morphing, but some kind of energy entirely.

What’s more, Paracelsus himself appears to be knocked out (😵) during the entire animation and only opens his eyes after the black smoke dissipates and seems kinda scared or confused at the end of it. Which suggests it isn’t even 'him' doing the attack with A.B.A, or at least not him consciously doing it.

There's the possibility that this smoke and the sludge we now see in STRIVE are suppose to be the same thing, but changed due to art evolution. A kind of formless mass Paracelsus takes on when he doesn't have a definite form, or a form that differs from his default.

I'm not saying Paracelsus was taken over by a completely separate personality or entity, because he still had agency and awareness, he still talked as himself in Moroha mode. And it's clear he enjoys/enjoyed blood and violence and he still reminisces about them with some fondness in STRIVE.

But when he says he "lost his sanity" during his bloodlust, I wonder if it was more like he was partially possessed, and he didn't realize it.

Paramirum

Coupled with his new transformation which is called “hyoui” (“possession”) internally, and his STRIVE axe form has both two 'heads' at once, and is actually a double-bladed axe with one blade broken off. It feels like hints and motifs that Paracelsus is or has multiple entities or personalities in one.

Like on his blade in Jealous Rage mode, that word on the blade is "Paramirum" which is actually one of the books written by the real-life alchemist Paracelsus. It means "beyond wonder". What's more interesting is that the roman numeral Ⅱ is on that blade too, right above "Paramirum".

Does that mean something like a second Paracelsus, or "Paramirum" personality is appearing on that blade? There is a goat's eye on that half in Jealous Rage, which gets much larger in hyoui mode. Could this be his old goat's head personality reappearing indepedently of the main Paracelsus personality?

(There's also text on Paracelsus' end in Jealous Rage, but I can't tell what it is from the gallery images, prolly will need to see the actual model textures)

It should also be noted that in his original Moroha mode, it’s shown that only one of his eyes lights up. So the idea of him being somehow ‘half’ isn’t entirely new to STRIVE.

It’s also not clear if Paracelsus is actually aware in red hyoui mode, and if it's actually him snarling with A.B.A in her attack. His regular face is apparently still there when the attack happens, according to this concept art, so it's a second face appearing on the blade half. Could this actually be a completely separate personality from the main Paracelsus?

Personal headcanon/theory

My personal headcanon now is that ArcSys is heavily hinting a dual-personality situation with Paracelsus. If he really is actually a twin-bladed axe that got one edge broken off, then maybe the Paracelsus we know is ‘half’ of his full personality and is technically incomplete. If Moroha partially reveals his other personality, maybe they use to both be present at the same time (both blades present) but now only one can take dominance at one time (as a single bladed axe).

Or a new personality is emerging that's in response to A.B.A's bloodlust in STRIVE.

There's also a lesser-known property of magical foci like Paracelsus, in that they described as 'physical proxies' to the real 'data' they're pulling from in the Backyard (think in computer terms: the main Guilty Gear world is really more like the Windows Desktop of reality while the Backyard is the actual hard drive).

It really doesn't come up much, maybe in I-No's story, but functionally doesn't mean anything for characters like Paracelsus. Usually.

But there's an interesting thing with what we see pop up out of A.B.A's door when she does her Keeper of the Key Overdrive.

The multiple tentacles are made of sludge similar to Paracelsus' form, have eyes similar to Paracelsus', and also sharp blades and red energy. The Jealous Rage version even reminds me of Paracelsus' other nickname, 'the Sanguine Gale', where he supposedly swung so fast that he sent blades of wind out to slash at enemies back in his berserker days. The Jealous Rage version has the tendril twist around like a tornado with blades extended.

My theory is THAT is part of Paracelsus' 'full body' back in the Backyard. A giant formless mass much like Paracelsus' true sludgy form, that is summoned A.B.A unlocks the way to it when she uses Paracelsus himself as the key, and reacts to A.B.A's wish for them to attack by forming blades and lashing out.

Maybe it's a giant collection of multiple souls, entities, and memories, because magical foci can be created from multiple things attaching to each other and an object or human. In its case, I can imagine it's the collective memories of warriors who died on the battlefield, that melted together in the Backyard and attached themselves to a weapon - an axe.

And Paracelsus could be just one facet of the collective whole that has grown independent in the physical world of GG.

But big reminder that this is all my personal speculation. I don't expect ArcSys to ever definitely say what's coming out of the door; because there's always the chance it's really just 'rule of cool' like most things in the game, to be honest.

But I like to think it's not a coincidence that A.B.A's new Overdrive has her actually use Paracelsus as a key now, and she's summoning something that looks like it's also sludge like him.

[beneathstarryskies]

Summary: It's been centuries since Ganondorf's victory in bringing Hyrule to its knees. However, victory is lonelier than he'd anticipated. The once great Demon King is a shadow of his former self, drinking his way through the castle's wine cellars and mumbling to himself in the dark. That is until one brave stranger wanders through the castle gates, led by curiosity...Or perhaps fate.

Word Count: 5,002

Warnings: mentions of violence, depression, Ganondorf is a recluse, beauty and the beast AU, might be OOC but i don't care this idea wouldn't leave me alone until i wrote it so here we are, overall it's pretty PG

Taglist: @emmacornell, @actuallysaiyan

In the remnants of a castle once grand but now desolate, Ganondorf wanders the halls alone. Some days he is focused on working his way through the wine cellar, but other days he mutters quietly as he wonders where it all had gone wrong. He’d achieved everything he wanted. He sits upon the throne of Hyrule, the entire realm under his control, yet as centuries pass the emptiness in his chest persists. Even the people of the realm stretching from the deserts of Gerudo to the flatlands of Akkala noticed the grip of the once fearsome ruler lessening. Only occasionally would he exert his dominance again, as though only to remind them he is still present. Even the darkness of his gloom seemed to fade from the landscape as life returned to normal for the people of the realm. Tales of the great demon king who once took over the kingdom are still passed from grandparents' mouths to the eager ears of children, but Ganondorf as they speak of him almost feels like fiction. 

It was this sense of safety and curiosity that led you to Hyrule Fields. A thin layer of snow is falling on the landscape as you walk through the fields. Your eyes widen as you see the castle, and the now-empty town surrounding it. The walls are covered in a thick layer of ivy vines, now brown and barren from the cold air. You carefully walk forward, tiptoeing past the gloomy black and red sludge as you pass through the gates. As you explore the once great Castle Town, you remember the stories you’d been told as a child. The horrible stories of a great big demon who took the form of a horrible pig. Every little noise sent your mind into a frightened frenzy, and you were beginning to wonder if staying here much longer was worth indulging your long-held curiosity about the castle. 

Ganondorf became aware of the intrusion when he wandered outside of the master bedroom onto the balcony. He looked down to see the tiny form of a Hyrulian woman poking around the old stalls in the market. Every so often he noticed her flinching and looking around as though frightened. Her attention soon turned to the wide doors of the castle. He recognized her intentions almost immediately, and he threw on a cloak to meet her at the door. 

When you push open the double doors, you let out a squeak of surprise at the large figure looming at the bottom of the stairs. Long red hair falls in front of his face and glowing yellow eyes stare at you with malice as he growls. 

“What are you doing here?” his voice, even as a whisper, echoes through the empty halls. 

“I’m sorry,” you stammer as you try to back away. You trip over your own feet and fall backward.  Just before you hit the ground, a large hand catches the front of your cloak. Suddenly, your feet are no longer on the ground. Ganondorf lifts you to force you to look into his eyes. 

“I asked a question, little one,” he snarls. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you stammer as your hands instinctively come to his wrist, grabbing on in case he drops you. “I thought--” 

“You thought the castle to be empty,” he finishes your thought. “Perhaps I have been too kind to your people, allowing them to live too comfortably. My existence having been relegated to folklore and legend, is that it?” 

“No!” you cry out, the thought of your kingdom being punished for your stupidity makes your skin crawl and your chest tightens with guilt. “No, it’s just…Me…I was curious.” 

“Oh,” he pulls you closer. “Curious? You wish to see my castle?” 

His words lull you into a false sense of comfort as you mistake his annoyance for understanding, “Yes, your Highness.” 

“I see, little one,” he throws you over his shoulder. “You wish to see my castle and know its secrets. I see…Well, I shall make sure you spend all the time you have left within the walls of this castle.” 

He walks you upstairs and tosses you into an empty bedroom. Before you can scramble to your feet the door is being slammed shut, and you hear the unmistakable click of a lock trapping you inside. You crawl to the door, standing on your knees as you bang on it desperately with shaking fists. 

“Please,” you call out. “I’m sorry! Please let me out! I’ll leave! I promise I won’t tell anyone I saw you!” 

Your cries and pleas fall on deaf ears. Ganondorf closed himself off to emotions like pity and empathy long ago. He ascends the remaining stairs to go to the master bedroom once more. He grabs his earlier forgotten bottle of wine and throws himself into his chair. He throws his head back and finishes the bottle in one long gulp. His heart is racing as he thinks about you. Your pitiful eyes as you tried to explain yourself, and then your tiny hands on his wrist to cling to stability. There’s something about your curiosity and bravery that piqued his interest. He can’t remember the last time someone ventured to the castle. 

Your cries and pleas continue for hours until you wear yourself out from exhaustion. You crawl onto the old bed and you begin sobbing until you fall asleep. 

_____

Ganondorf awakens when the sun is high in the sky. He has almost forgotten about having locked you away. You on the other hand have been awake since dawn. You’ve torn the room apart in search of some sort of escape. Realizing the king had you locked up tight, you felt a wave of defeat crash over you. 

“Damn it all,” you cried out and fell onto the bed with an annoyed sigh. Tears sting your eyes, but you try to hold them back. 

You could feel Ganondorf approaching before you could see him. His looming presence was difficult to ignore. He pushed the door open, not feeling even a moment of remorse as he saw your pathetic form on the bed. 

“You’re lucky it’s been ages since I’ve had anyone in this castle,” he speaks. “I require a new servant.” 

You sit up on the bed, turning to him with a look of indignation. 

“Who says I’m trying to become a servant?” you ask. Immediately you regret the question when his eyes begin to glow with anger. He reaches out to grab you by the collar of your dress, and easily he lifts you off the ground just like before. 

“The alternative is death,” he growls. 

You had no choice but to give in to him. He drops you back onto the bed before turning away. His imposing figure stalks to the door, only stopping for a moment to look over his shoulder at you. 

“Start by cooking breakfast,” he says, his voice a perpetual growl. 

You don’t know what else to do. There’s not much you can do besides go along with his orders. You go downstairs, and it takes a bit of searching before you find the kitchen. There’s almost no food in the pantries, only a few things you assume he must have gathered on his own at some point, or perhaps those from neighboring villages brought in the goods as offerings. You’re staring up at the shelves trying to plan a meal when his shadow looms over you. 

“A farmer nearby brings supplies,” his voice booms through the pantry. “In return, I keep the monsters off his sheep.” 

“Why would you?” 

He answers your question with another, “What threat does a farmer hold to my rule?” 

You don’t turn to him, instead, you reach up to the high shelf where there’s a bag of flour to try to reach it. You expect him to help you, but he doesn’t. He stands back and smirks as you climb up the shelves to grab the bag of flour and start to pull it slowly in the hope you can shimmy it down. Instead, it falls and bursts on the floor. 

“Now you have a breakfast to cook and a mess to clean,” he chuckles. “It’s good to see you can keep yourself busy.” 

He leaves you alone, and you manage to clean up. Then, you cook a nice meal considering what little you have to work with. After that, he tells you to pick a room and begin cleaning. 

The days continue in this manner. You cook and clean in the castle. Occasionally you manage to tease some semblance of conversation from him, if grunts and the occasional sarcastic quip can be considered as such. To your surprise, he’s not cruel to you. He’s just cold, almost apathetic as far as you can tell. You’re mostly kept to your own devices, which is lonely. As long as you do the chores, he doesn’t have much to say. 

Considering his indifference, you didn’t think he would put in any effort to stop your escape. Being able to explore the castle on your own for so many hours of the day, it had taken you a week to muster up the courage to try to leave. However, as soon as you passed through the gate gloom hands surprised you and dragged you back to your quarters. If he had known of your attempt to escape, he never spoke a word of it to you. 

_____

Ganondorf isn’t accustomed to having company anymore. The centuries have passed, and his former companions have fallen by the wayside. Either having fallen in battle or to the ravages of time. He tells himself he’s a lonely old fool the first time his heart races when you attempt to make casual conversation with him. 

His heart pounds even more so when you shyly ask if he misses being in Gerudo Town. Nobody over the years ever had the bravery to ask such a deeply personal question. You were sitting on the sofa by the fire mending a hole in your skirt when the question fell from your lips as simply as asking if the sky is blue. He looked up from the flames. 

“What a bold question little one,” he commented as he took a deep breath to prepare his answer. “I miss my sisters most of all, but none of the sisters I knew are living any longer. Those who inhabit that place are now strangers to me as I am to them.” 

A pang of sadness hits your chest, “Are there other things you miss?” 

“No, not necessarily. The blistering sun and unforgiving sands hold no sentiment except for how they made me strong.” 

“I see,” you say and quickly return to mending your clothes. 

“You need more attire,” he says. 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” 

“Ah, but you’re wrong. It is because of me that you are here, therefore it is my responsibility to care for you.” 

Your mind feels blank for a moment. Was that kindness? From the mouth of the demon king himself? Before you can say anything, he rises from his seat. He doesn’t bid you goodnight before disappearing. Nor do you notice him locking the castle up like he usually does at night. 

The next morning when you awaken, there’s a a pile of neatly folded clothes placed on the armchair in your room. You look through the clothes carefully. Among the more casual pants and blouses, you also find a beautiful gown. The material is soft, emerald green with gold floral embroidery along the hems. You assume it must have been by mistake that he brought something so elegant and beautiful to you. With great care, you hang the gown in the wardrobe, where among the shelves you find a new pair of shoes and a winter cloak. 

You get ready for your day, dressing in the new clothes he brought, and then busy yourself with chores. It’s nearly night when you hear Ganondorf stir. Looking to thank him for his gesture, you quickly make your way towards the staircase to greet him. However, the words are caught in your throat when you see him. 

He’s dressed in a fine, majestic robe. You recognize the patterns on it as being Gerudo. His hair is tied back, and the red beard that had been down to his chest when you arrived is neatly trimmed back up to his jawline. 

“Did you have something to say?” he asks, hoping to put a stop to your wide-eyed gaping. How long has it been since someone looked upon him with awe rather than fear? 

“Y-you look nice,” you smile shyly, having forgotten your original intentions for the moment. 

“Ah, yes,” he nods. 

You look down to the floor again then the thoughts return to your mind. You bounce softly on your toes and your eyes light up. 

“Thank you for bringing me new clothes!” 

“I told you I would,” he comes down the rest of the stairs and looks down on you but not with malice. “Did you find the gown?” 

Your eyes widen. So it hadn’t been a mistake? 

“Y-yes, I did! It’s so beautiful.” 

“I was hoping you’d wear it tonight,” he doesn’t sound as authoritative as he’d hoped to. 

“Oh, sure. I’ll put it on after dinner.” 

“No, don’t worry about dinner. Go change now.” 

With a short, courteous bow you make your exit. Upstairs in your room, you quickly bathe and then slip into the beautiful gown. Upon inspecting your appearance, you decide a bit more effort needs to go into it if you’re to wear such an opulent outfit. You brush your hair and braid it neatly.

 As you set to work on your appearance, you wonder what Ganondorf has planned for the evening. You’ve never seen him quite so…Handsome. He’s all cleaned up and dressed like the true king he is. Surely he wouldn’t go to so much effort for you, would he? No, you tell yourself that’s not possible. Perhaps he’s just having a bit of fun with you. After all, he’s been in this castle by himself for centuries. It would make sense for him to take to a bit of fanciness since he has someone around to share it with. 

Somehow imagining him seeing you as more than just a servant makes your heart flutter. You tell yourself you must be insane for thinking this way. Yet, he’s become more than a master to you. You’ve spent long nights sitting by the fire, listening to his tales of times long past. Somewhere among hearing his childhood tales of starvation and heat among his people and witnessing the opulence Hyrule hoarded, you began to understand his anger. Perhaps you couldn’t fully condone his path, but you could understand why he would grow to desire the conquering of the kingdom. You began to see through the dark, foreboding reputation of the demon king. 

As you descend the stairs, you notice more light in the castle than you’re used to at this time of night. The grand chandelier in the main hall has been lit along with the chandeliers on the stone walls throughout the corridor leading into the ballroom, as though lighting your path. As you open the large double doors, you see a dining table set up by the large windows looking out onto the courtyard. It’s filled to the brim with fruit, cheese, and dried meats. A bottle of wine is chilled by two glasses. Ganondorf stands nearby, his back straight as he stares out the window with his hands locked behind him. 

“Your majesty,” you say to get his attention. 

He turns to you, his eyes widening momentarily before his face returns to being neutral. 

“You look lovely,” he whispers, almost too quiet for you to hear it. You bow politely. 

“Thank you,” you smile. 

“I have set up dinner,” he explains. “You asked me once what it was like being the king of the Gerudo. I thought I would show you how I ate then.” 

“Oh?” You approach the table, and he quickly pulls the chair out for you. You thank him as you sit down. 

“The heat was intense. So, I often tried to eat light yet still filling meals. I ate considerably more than this, of course, but I thought you’d appreciate having more variety.” 

“You put this together?” 

He smiles as he begins pouring the wine, “Yes, of course. Can’t I do things for myself? Or do you wish to take care of me completely?” 

Your cheeks heat up at his double entendre. It takes you a moment to regain your bearings, trying not to imagine what all ‘taking care’ of him might entail. 

“I suppose it’s just unexpected.” 

He places a glass of wine by your hand, and you hear a deep chuckle from him as he sits across from you. 

“Believe it or not, back then I didn’t have many servants. The Gerudo people are prideful therefore believe it or not, they didn’t bow to me like I was a child in need of praise. I was proud to be self-sufficient.” 

“I see,” you smile. “So, what is all this?” you gesture to the ballroom all lit up and with a few flower arrangements scattered about.

“I thought you might enjoy a bit of grandeur,” he sighs. “Must you ask so many questions?” 

Your cheeks burn as you look down at your plate, “I only wished to know.” 

“All in due time,” he answers before beginning to pile his plate with food. 

You follow along, taking a bit of all of the offerings. It was a nice, light meal. Leaving you full, yet still energetic instead of ready to fall asleep in your chair. The wine made your cheeks burn and your muscles feel loose. Ganondorf encourages you to eat more if you need more, and you’re surprised by the way he seems to be taking such care of you even though he doesn’t seem the kind to have a caring bone in his body. 

After the two of you finish your meals, he takes your hand and leads you to the middle of the ballroom. He explains that he wishes to teach you some of the traditional Gerudo dances. He explains how often in his time as King, the dances would be performed with two women. However, as time passed and the Gerudo became more focused on finding husbands they began altering the steps. 

“Women are strong and can stand on their own, but I suppose as time passed they wanted to be more meek to attract husbands,” he explains as he shows you the steps as intended which would see your hips swaying carelessly. “Are you meek?” he asks with a teasing smile. 

“For you?” you giggle. “I think not.” 

He laughs, surprising you deeply yet thrilling you none the same. Soon he has you pulled close as you perform the steps as he’d showed you. One large hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you to move along with him. The ballroom is large, and it’s perfect for what he does. Every corner is explored by the gentle tapping of your feet, barely out of synch considering the difference in your size. 

“Come,” he says as he pulls you closer. He gently guides you to stand on his feet. The weight doesn’t seem to bother him as he holds you as close as he can. He moves the two of you as gracefully as waves across the ocean. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks down at you, and finally leans closer. 

“Are you…?” 

Before you can speak, and ruin the moment, he presses his lips to yours. The warmth of his mouth spreads through you, lighting a fire in the pit of your stomach. His hands rest upon your waist and his feet go still as he loses himself to the kiss. Your fingers are small and gentle as they comb through his fiery hair. Finally, the two of you separate. He almost looks ashamed of his actions. He steps away, looking around the room like a wild animal in a cage searching for an escape. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers. “Intimacy shared when one is bound is a violation.” 

“Gan…Wait,” you grab his hand but he quickly pulls away. “I don’t feel that way with you.” 

“It matters not what you feel. The truth is unchanged. If I’d not forced you here, then this moment would have never come to pass.” 

“No, please-” 

“You should leave,” he growls. “Do not look back at this place. Leave me here.” 

“Just listen to me,” you plead. “Please, I want to stay!” 

“Leave! Now,” he bellows through the halls. “Do not ever return!” 

Tears fill your eyes as the sting of rejection fills your chest. You want to open your mouth and tell him how badly you wish to stay. Throughout your time with him you’ve seen him grow from being a reclusive, grumpy king to showing the side of him that’s charming. You’ve found yourself growing more confident and content as well. Despite everything, you seem to have brought out the best in one another. Yet, he’s pushing you away now. 

“If you do not leave, I will kill you!” he snarls, the threat as empty as the wine bottle on the dining table. He’d never be able to bring himself to harm a hair on your head. 

Without another word, you run upstairs to pack your few belongings.  _____

You were surprised by the greeting you’d received when you’d returned home. Your family was delighted to see you. Your mother doted on you for days, having spent the better part of a year thinking you had abandoned the family or worse got yourself killed. You have always been a curious one, after all. After all of your family realized not only were you in good health, but you weren’t going to share what you’d been through it was business as usual. There were chores to be done on the farm, and you were eager to busy yourself with mindless work. 

You missed him deeply. It was a surprising turn, even to you. At night when you sat by the fire, you often found yourself asking your family philosophical questions they couldn’t answer all that deeply. In your mind, you could almost hear the way Ganondorf would have answered them. The way he almost seemed to purr in the back of his throat when he sat back in his chair, rubbing his beard, as he considered how to answer your best. You remembered the way his eyes would light up when you’d managed to push a topic he was particularly interested in. His eyes would light up when you would argue with him, confidently asserting your thoughts, as though he was proud of you for being so willing to stand up to him. Meanwhile, you felt suffocated by returning to your old life. Your family are kind people, surely, but they’re also simple in their desires. You missed the thrill of being close to someone who had a worldview so interestingly different from your own who could both challenge and be challenged in exchange. 

Yet, you worked. Finding solace and quiet in the familiarity of it all. It was the same thing you’d found yourself doing up until the fateful day you had been at the castle. 

Did he know how much the time you spent with him meant to you? Somehow you felt that question burning in your mind for weeks. Maybe if you had told him the truth of your feelings sooner, then he would have never sent you away. If he had known you didn’t feel imprisoned with him, would he have let you stay by his side? Would the budding feelings between you have finally bloomed? Not having the answers to these questions was enough to drive you to madness. And yet…The answers would not come. 

Months had passed when the adventurer arrived. His name was Link, and as your family served him dinner he explained his mission. He was to free Hyrule from the Demon King, Ganondorf. 

“The Demon King has been silent for many years,” your father said. “Is such a feat really worth laying down your life for?” 

“He may be silent for now, but the conquering spirit in him still remains. Hyrule will not be free until he is gone,” Link replied. 

“Will peace truly ever return?” your mother asked.

“Yes,” Link said, with an unwavering resolve. “Princess Zelda will take the throne, and restore prosperity.” 

As all of you laid down in your bedrolls that night, you had tried to push away the fear. He had made sure you no longer felt like he was your problem, therefore you felt it was in your best interest to pretend it wasn’t. Whether Ganondorf lived or died, should have been of no concern to you. 

Yet, the next morning, you rise with the sun. You quickly go check the spare room, and see that Link has already left. His blankets are neatly folded and there’s a small pile of money off to the side. 

“No, no,” you whisper to yourself. 

You run to the stables and take one of your family horses. You ride towards the castle, praying that you will make it in time to save Ganondorf. Although truth be told, you didn’t know if it was entirely possible. 

The sun is shining brightly overhead, the sky a cheerful shade of blue. In the distance, you can see a dark, gloom-filled cloud hanging over the ruins of Hyrule castle. You wonder if Link has already made it there, and is now fighting Ganondorf. There’s a strange conflict brewing in your chest because you understand why Link wants to defeat him. You just can’t stand the thought of losing Ganondorf. You keep replaying that night in your head, and you wish more than anything that you would have fought harder to stay by his side. Knowing you may never get to tell him the truth of your feelings makes your heart sink into your stomach. 

As you arrive at the castle, the clouds of gloom have begun to fade. Leaving only rainclouds in their wake that are slowly being pushed aside by the soft breeze. Does this mean it’s over? Ganondorf has been defeated? 

You leave your horse by the gate and run past the walls. You see his large form hunched over on one of the balconies. Link lunges with his sword, and suddenly Ganondorf falls. He lands with a loud crash on the ground, sending cracks through the stone from the impact. Link stands at the edge of the balcony and crawls onto the ledge. He points an arrow bathed in divine light down at Ganondorf, aiming for the finishing blow. 

“No!” You cry out as you run to Ganondorf’s rumpled form. 

“Huh?” Link gasps as he sees you throw yourself over Ganondorf. Your considerably smaller form does nothing to truly shield him, but Link knows you wouldn’t be able to withstand the blast from the light arrow. “Move!” Link calls down to you. 

“No! I won’t!” 

“Little one,” Ganondorf coughs. “It’s over…Do not…” he trails off when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks. He can’t remember the last time anyone cried for him, or if they ever had. 

“Please, I won’t let you die,” you cry softly and bury your head against his chest. You don’t care about the blood and grime covering him. You feel his large hand on your back, his fingers curling through your hair. 

“I’m glad you came, if only so I could see you one last time.” 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “Don’t speak that way.” 

Link jumps down, landing with a thud on his feet, “You don’t understand. I have to finish him. Ganondorf has to die so Hyrule can be saved.” 

“Why does he have to die?” you sob as you continue clinging to him, your tears soaking into his tattered clothes. Link looks down, unsure of how to answer your question. Truth be told, he didn’t truly understand himself. Ganondorf had practically been dormant for half a century, and the monsters had slowly begun to fade away. 

“It’s fate,” Ganondorf tells you, continuing to rub your back. “Stand aside, little one. Do not weep for me anymore.” 

“Ganondorf, I can’t leave you like this,” you whisper. “I love you.” 

“Love?” he whispers as though the word is one he’s never heard. He wants to laugh, not at your feelings but at the notion of someone feeling something so gentle for him. “I…I love you as well, but it matters not now.” 

You look up, expecting to see Link standing over you. Instead, you see his retreating form. Almost seeming to sense your gaze, he looks over his shoulder. “Make sure he doesn’t give me a reason to seek him again. The two of you find somewhere to go, somewhere far away from here. I will tell everyone he’s dead.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper through gentle sobs. 

Ganondorf can hardly believe his ears. Had the hero truly decided to spare him? He couldn’t imagine a time when something like this would happen, and yet he knows there’s something he’s never had before…Rather someone. You must be the most precious thing he’s ever held in his arms. 

You embrace him again, savoring the beating of his heart and the warmth of him. Still alive, still breathing. He touched your hair, feeling the soft strands between his fingers. When you finally look up at him, there’s a sweet smile on your face despite the tears in your eyes. Then, you lean down to kiss him. His heart soars from the gentle affection. 

 It would seem fate had something different in store for him this time. 

[astromechs]

ok, i did barbenheimer, so here are some assorted thoughts about both films (i am discussing potential "spoilers" for both, so look away if you don't want these):

on paper, and in experience, this is the wildest double feature to do. barbie and oppenheimer could not be two more different films, in terms of tone, aesthetic, and themes; on the one hand, you have a treatise on feminism in the guise of one of the most widely known decades-old ip, and on the other, you have a complicated biopic about the complicated figure who developed the atomic bomb.

and yet, there is a heart and soul linking these two films, and i actually think seeing them in the double feature makes them work: it's care and craftsmanship. these are two films made by people who actually care about cinema as an artform, and it's such a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of the dreck we've been getting out of major studios and wide releases, especially over the past decade.

barbie is not an independent film; you guys are silly, and you need to get that out of your heads. mattell's name is literally on it lol BUT. what this story turns out to be is something pretty unique in terms of today's cinematic landscape. it's a thoughtful treatise on feminism and gender roles on all sides of the equation — the unrealistic expectations put on women, the emptiness that drives men into upholding patriarchy, the absolute absurdity it is on all counts to let ourselves be consumed by this instead of getting to be ourselves and figure out who we actually are. loved every second of it.

also: "i lost interest in patriarchy when i learned it wasn't about horses", like, line of the year.

oppenheimer manages to distinguish itself from the sludge of oscar bait biopics, because, well, because of the craftsmanship of christopher nolan, but also because, in particular, it has such strong thematic focus. it is both a story about oppenheimer, the complicated figure who unleashed something terrible on the world, and the story of the plight of the scientist; just because you can do something, does it mean you should? when you put a dangerous tool into someone else's hands, is it their hands who have the responsibility for how it's used, or is it you, for creating it in the first place?

these are questions that i think the film wrestles with very adeptly, and it doesn't provide easy answers — because there are none. oppenheimer himself spent the remainder of his life wrestling with his own complicated legacy, and the film really captures the spirit of that. the final shot really makes that stick.

both of these films had clear vision for what they wanted to say, clear care and craftsmanship involved, and as someone who genuinely loves cinema and has felt so disheartened seeing shit upon shit being flung into theaters in wide release, i deeply appreciate both of these films, and i don't regret the experience of doing the double feature, because it was really something special — even if, whew, i'm going to need about five business days to process all of this.

[cainache]

that sullen girl ♱ rick grimes

Rick knows you’re younger. You’ve got at least 13 years on him. And maybe in a life before that double digit number would’ve stopped him and he would’ve dragged his mind elsewhere. Stuck to what was “right”.

But he’s lost too damn much in the last few years to overthink this. He cares about you. It’s as simple as that. He wants you to be okay. Always.

And Alexandria is new territory. It’s terrifying how perfect it is here. An untouched world.

Rick knows a majority of his group is settling in, grateful to have a safe roof and walls around them. He’s glad his kids are safe.

Rick also knows you’re one of the ones still skeptical of where you guys are trying to take home in. Like Daryl.

Though, you’ve taken a shower.

Everyone in the group seems to have connections to an olden life, you don’t fall under that. Your younger kid sister closed her eyes for the final time a few months ago, Rick guesses. He knows it feels longer.

You’ve gotten quiet since then. He doesn’t blame you, the same damn thing happened to him after Lori—his reaction was a bit worse though.

He just doesn’t want you to lose yourself. You’ve got a good self. You keep him well.

Though, he can’t find you. It’s making him a little nervous, though, he tries not to show it.

He goes walking for awhile before he does find you, it’s a mistake when he does. Your hair a flash in his peripheral. He paused his walk and see’s you fully.

You’re with the graves.

You’re bent at the knees, all your weight resting on your balancing feet. You’re before your sister’s grave. A few flowers under the wooden pallet with her name craved into it.

Rick knows there’s not anything under that grass, six feet under. He knows it bothers you, even if you don’t say anything. He knows them having to bury your sister in the middle of nowhere under a large tree months ago bothers you too, even if you don’t say it.

He’s gotten good at reading you.

He walks over slowly, hands shoving in the pockets on his jeans. You hear him before you see him. “Hi, Rick.” You say gently, you seem to know him as well as he does with you. You know his steps, he hasn’t gotten there with you—yet.

He smiles small, it’s almost like a frown. “Hi, sweetheart.” His voice is deep and soft, softer than it normally is. He only talks to you like that, and Judith.

He sees you shift a little, like you’re getting up. He pushes a hand out for you and you take it without a second wasted. “You alright?” He asks gently. He can see the color draining from your eyes with each day passing. You get more tired. More like sludge under his palms. You aren’t sure how to move on. He wishes he could take your pain, though, he knows you’d never let him have it. He’s had more than you, you know he has, even if he wouldn’t agree. We’ve all lost something, he’d say. He’s right, but still. No one’s lost like Rick.. Nor what he’s done to stop from losing more.

You nod, your eyes on your sister’s name and your hand still in Rick’s. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just wanted to say hi to her, I guess..” Your voice fades off and your shoulders sink. He can see you roll your eyes at yourself. He hates when you’re cruel to yourself. You need to give you more credit.

Rick frowns gently. He squeezes your hand before letting it go, and his arm slips over your shoulders instead. His fingers mess gently with the ends of your hair, it’s gotten longer since he’s met you. It’s been years.

You sigh and lean into him, “sorry I disappeared. Should’ve told you I was heading out.” You know him too damn well. His worries. His fears.

Yeah, he feels good in Alexandria, but old habits never die.

He hums, pulling you even closer, if possible. His eyes are on your sister’s name. “Don’t apologize. I get it.”

You hum gently and finally look away from your sister’s empty grave. Your arms weave around Rick’s waist and you push your face softly into his side. His chin leans down on the crown of your head. He feels you hold onto him tighter.

“Things are okay, right?” You whisper into his clothed skin.

They are, for now at least.

He nods against your head, his other arm wrapping around you. “Yeah,” he says soft and quiet. “Everything’s alright, baby.”

He kisses your head. You squeeze him even tighter, makes his lungs feel like they’re going to pop with admiration.

You’re a strong sullen girl, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

[gatorseverywhere]

I will send you Transformers thoughts.

- Tarn wants Megatron, but what he needs is a dommy mommy. Or a cat.

- Overlord is a sub.

- Cold constructed mechs would have really fucked up ideas about sex and intimacy. The differences are incredibly pronounced between the survivors of the first batches versus the last ones under the "3 step class"

- Prowl's longest lasting relationship is a monstrosity of a coffee machine that he salvaged from his old station's trash because it, in his opinion, was still operational and gave him the best brew for breakthroughs. Said machine produces a sludge that unfit for most mechanisms consumption and can be classified as a food war crime. Not to Prowl though. He knocks it back with a straight face.

- Megatron most definitely fucked the cassettes.

- Nautilator has a sheet for mechs to fill out their kinks and icks because of the Voice. He also memorized a variety of Megatron's speeches and speaking mannerisms so he could nail the imitation and do things on the fly.

- Riptide has two dicks.

- There should be more cultural misunderstandings between the Lost Colonies and Cybertron. Or have a language barrier.

- Solus Prime was a buff femme with shoulders to bench Megatronus.

- Liege Maximo is a short king with heels.

- Starscream could be trans. All his frame works and trades versus his True Form.

There is a mention of nsfw, proceed with caution

I love all of these-

Tarn definitely wants megatron, he's so down bad for him, Megatron is the only mech who could ever truly put tarn in his place, but the angst possibility is also phenomenal, especially with Meg's defection.

Im not quite sure what you mean by the cold construct bit, but i agree about the fucked up part.

I can not say i agree with overlord being a sub, but maybe when it comes to certain mechs. He's dominant until someone who isnt scared of him actually steps up to his authority. At first, he definitely considers killing the mech, but he decides it could be a fun challenge to let the mech try to dom, then he finds out he definitely does not mind it-

Prowl can stomach the most VILE coffee ever. As long as it keeps him wide awake, he'll drink it. He's tried the alternative, calming things to help him sleep better, like tea (decaf), but it never helps, so to cope with his inability to sleep, he just forces himself to stay awake. Also, yeah he can't hold normal relationships to save his life. Most mechs can't handle his lifestyle.

Meg's and the cassets would be a sight to see bro, he rewards them for doing so well, especially on infiltration missions where they're small enough to sneak into autobot base.

I'm sorry i dont no nautilator very well unfortunately 😔

Two spiked riptide, i love it, he looks like a shark so ofc he gets the double dicks.

Culture difference, i love it, especially when practices are so different, and it's just a culter shock.

Buff femmes is my kryptonite, i need solus to bench press me

Leige maximo is so fine for no reason

We all know starscreams original name was Pretty Poison, so now that means he used to be a femme with that name and changed his name to Starscream. We love a trans king.

Thank you for the asks, i adore all of these ❤️❤️❤️

[electric-lights]

(un)welcome visitors

Rafael Barba x gn!reader

"I didn't know every coffee maker between here and the DA's office mysteriously combusted."

He purses his lips in a humorless smile, leaning against the wooden sideboard and tapping his fingers impatiently as the machine heats up. "Carmen's out sick," he explains, his voice clipped. "The coffee stand's closed, and even I can't make myself drink the courthouse sludge."

Rafael may be using you for your coffee maker, but when a personal issue arises he offers some unexpected support.

tags: established friendship, fluff, mutual pining, hint of family angst on the reader's side, gender neutral reader, no y/n, no reader physical description

word count: 1400

note: it's only vaguely alluded to but reader is a law librarian at the county law library, which happens to be located right across from 1 hogan :) essentially you research, gather, and analyze legal materials for the public, courts, and recently a certain ADA

read on ao3 here

You lean back in your office chair with an amused grin. "Nice to see you too, Barba."

The man currently beelining it to your office's single cup coffee machine doesn't have the good grace to look chagrined. Rafael shoves his thermos underneath the spout, drops a pod in the machine, and slams the lid without even looking at you. "Yes, hello, you look good, how've you been," he rattles out dryly.

"You talking to me or the Keurig?"

The withering look he shoots you is mostly without teeth. It's not enough to deter you.

"I didn't know every coffee maker between here and the DA's office mysteriously combusted."

He purses his lips in a humorless smile, leaning against the wooden sideboard and tapping his fingers impatiently as the machine heats up. "Carmen's out sick," he explains, his voice clipped. "The coffee stand's closed, and even I can't make myself drink the courthouse sludge."

You raise your eyebrows.

He glances over, then does such an utterly offended double take that you have to turn your surprised snort into a cough. "That was under duress," he warns, raising a finger in your direction.

You can't help it.

"I come to you in my time of need and you mock me," he deadpans as you laugh.

"Right, except I was your third choice."

He opens his mouth to deliver what promises to be a scathing retort, but the machine chooses that moment to finally hiss to life and the aroma of vanilla beans starts to fill the office. Rafael sighs, and some of the bristling tension seeps out of his shoulders. You decide he's probably suffered enough.

"Look, not that I don't appreciate the visit," you lean forward on your elbows against the desk, "but have you ever thought about just buying one for yourself?"

You knew he rarely used the old drip maker collecting dust in his office, preferring to buy it fresh - or, when he's particularly desperate and can't get away, send Carmen out with his card. In fact, you weren't even sure the damn thing worked until you'd found half of SVU camped out in his office late one night, going over the details of a difficult case with the carafe passed around the table. But surely, when caffeine-withdrawal was at stake...

"Then people would ask to use it." Rafael's nose wrinkles at the thought as he watches the thermos fill.

The stunning lack of self-awareness doesn't seem to register.

"Hmm," you hum, "says the man raiding my coffee stash." He blinks, pausing as he screws the thermos lid on. "The man with his own snack budget at the 16th."

He rolls his eyes. "They should consider it payment for goods and services." He says it with no small amount of smarm, but as he turns towards the loveseat you managed to cram into the corner of your small office, you watch him cradle the warm thermos in his hands like a prized possession.

"Speaking of," you say slowly, reaching down into the bottom drawer of your desk and tossing the contents to him. "Here."

He deftly catches the bag, and you feel inordinately pleased when you see his eyes light up at the chicago-style popcorn. "What's this for?"

Because you see how hard he works. Because you like that your office has become a place he frequents. Because you want him to stay a little while longer.

Because you're starting to like him more than the professional bounds of your positions, even the personal warmth of your friendship, and a small, foolish part of you can't help but hope he might feel the same way.

You clear your throat a little, shifting under the way his observant gaze turns thoughtful at your silence. "Let's just say Sergeant Benson isn't the only one with a snack budget."

He huffs a laugh, murmurs his thanks, and just like that any moment you imagined is gone.

With warm drink and food in hand, he finally collapses into the old, worn loveseat. He settles, sinking into the cushions and letting his eyes flutter shut as he tips his head back with a sigh, the long line of his neck and hint of scruff bared above his slightly loosened tie. You give him a moment, quietly shuffling some papers around, trying not to think about the warmth in your chest at seeing him so comfortable in your own space.

It isn't until he sits back up, taking a sip from his thermos with a pleased hum, that you speak, your voice quiet. "So how are you Raf, really?"

"Tired." He breaks open the popcorn. "Sick of fighting off motions for this case. You?"

You grimace, thinking about the pile of work growing in your inbox. "About the same."

"Well aren't we a pair." He gives a little crooked smile as he says it, and you try not to look too pleased with his choice of words.

You settle into quiet conversation - about his mother (she's doing well, and he talks about her work at the charter school with no small amount of pride), about the latest inter-office gossip (there's at least two affairs going on but he only complains about O'Dwyer's latest promotional pet project), about the request his office sent over yesterday (you're already working on the case analyses).

He's just explaining what details he'd like you to look out for when there's a light rap at your door.

Rafael pauses. You unconsciously straighten in your seat before you call out. "Yes?"

The door creaks open and one of the front desk assistants steps just inside the threshold. "I'm sorry to interrupt." She looks between you and Rafael, then turns back to you. "But your father is here to see you."

You blink.

"That can't be right," you frown. "My parents don't even live in the city."

She glances again at Rafael - who's watching you intently over his thermos - before she turns back to you with a strained smile. "Just passing along what he said," she says, her voice apologetic.

"Did he give a name?"

When she says it you sigh, cursing internally. "Alright, I'll... I'll be down in a minute. Thank you."

And with that, she nods at you both and closes the door behind her. In the ensuing silence, the easy, friendly air from before seems to have been sucked out of the room after her.

"Should I go?"

"No." Your reply is fast enough that Rafael'e eyebrows raise in surprise. "No, I'll just see what he wants and send him home. He shouldn't even be - I can't believe he's - fuck." You trail off into a groan of frustration, burying your head in your hands.

"One of those, huh," he says softly. It's not spoken as a question.

"Yeah," you mutter into your hands.

"Want me to scare him off?"

You know he's just trying to lighten the mood but your heart still jumps when you look up at him, foolish and half hope. "Would you?"

It slips out before you can stop it but you can't regret asking, not when he holds your gaze with a kind of warmth and sincerity he usually can't afford to show.

"For you?" he murmurs, "Of course."

You're proud that your next breath comes out relatively steady.

"Thank you," you say softly. "But you really don't need to get in the middle of my family drama."

His lips twitch into a wry, crooked smile. "I'm paid to get in the middle of family drama all the time. Yours is no trouble, trust me."

Your chest shakes with a laugh despite yourself, and his smile softens, his eyes crinkling. In the light of the setting sun from your window, it makes him look younger. Lighter.

It looks good on him.

"At least let me walk you down."

He never was one to give up on a tough case. If you're honest with yourself, you never want him to stop.

"Alright, alright," you cede with a small smile. "It's a deal, counselor."

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Rafael pushes up from the loveseat, thermos in hand. He takes his overcoat from the rack by the door and holds out your own, and your elbows brush as he steps out of your office behind you.

As the two of you walk down the hallway towards the elevator and whatever unpleasant surprise awaits you in the lobby, you realize that somehow - with Rafael beside you - you don't dread it.

[delawaredetroit]

hii (prev anon here, bkg favorite character). loved your reply! wanted to add that even if we do see bakugou save midoriya (and get stabbed in the process), I think there was SO much missed potential there.

because he does it "without thinking".

imagine if he'd put thought into it! if he'd made a decision (even if it's split second) to save midoriya without regard for his own life, that would have been a moment of character development, reminiscent of bnha's heavy themes of self-sacrifice. (in fact, i'd argue that making it decisive would be better reflective of bakugou's personality since he's shown to be very observant, smart, and thoughtful when he chooses to be --in that one water flooding the building episode?-- but that's just me)

it would've shown growth. it shows how "winning" becomes multi-dimensional. intention matters. and in this case, making such a grand moment unintentional seems like wasted potential.

(thought this was interesting)

I wouldn’t have minded the parallel of “my body moved on its own” if it was paired with later thought about the importance of saving others and valuing others above yourself being an important aspect of being a true hero. It’s a good callback to Izuku saving Bakugou from the sludge villain after all.

But he doesn’t. Bakugou in the following arc just determined that this kind of instinct to save was a mark of insanity and largely doubled down on prioritizing victory over everything else. He did make significant progress on working with others - because he was finally able to recognize that victory required other people’s power. But Bakugou never got to a point where he valued saving for its own sake, leaving the win to save/save to win theme even more hollow.

[heartfullofleeches]

i need more facts about Alien because the more i learn about them the more motrified yet intrigued i become

Alien's spit is in fact acidic, but only when they've ingested/rubbed baking soda into their gums first. Without that added factor it is completely normal and safe. They have memorized the exact typing of your door knob for the countless times they've melted it to get in. In the heat of the moment they may spit at a rival, but they will book it once their face starts to boil because the human sludge grosses them out.

Alien's parents are former government agents. They couldn't have children of their own, so when the child was found they opted to take them in and pulled some strings to make it look like the normal adoption of a weird kid. The reason they insist on calling them Allen is because they're worried it might raise suspicion - despite feeding their alien obsession because they spoil their only child. If Allen became aggressive due to their protectiveness over you they would try to cut you out of the picture.

Though they don't know it because they've never interacted with another of their kind, kissing near their eyes is a more intimate gesture than lips. They still get alarmingly flustered without this knowledge and will either scream or flee because of the overwhelming feelings the first couple of times

Alien is actually in college and also works at a movie theater. Because it's family owned and closed on certain days of the week they're allowed to mess around as they please so long as they clean and lock up. If you mention never seeing an Alien or Predator film you're not allowed to leave their sight until you see at least one. Say you've never seen Invader Zim and that's your whole life until you finish the entire series.

Rubbing alcohol gets them more wasted than drinking alcohol.

When they start breaking in to steal your belongs Alien leaves those glowy star stickers in places you'll never find them to mark their territory - after finding out humans don't claim their land like dogs. Under your mattress, the very top of your fridge, ceiling fan if you have one. They serve a double mentioning as Alien was an extremely anxious child and couldn't fall asleep in a room without these stickers in them... Due to this fact you may find them sleeping in one of the areas they hid one in. If it's big enough for two they'll drag you in for a nap and fall right back asleep no matter how much you scream (with all the alien films they've watched, screaming actually helps them sleep)

[wibixthecowboy]

Play the Song: Part 10: Hope

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV  

A/N: Hello!! I am back! Thank you all for being so patient and amazing, I present to you, Chapter 10!

I will be adding warnings/tags as I upload new chapters so do me a huge favor and double check before you read! Nothing too bad YET but just make it a habit! They will always be added at the top of the list.

Words: 6k

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag list: @urfavsunkissedleo @butskii @abbiesxox @itsasecrets-things @thatonewriterthatnooneknows  

    ★Flash   

The knife squelches grotesquely when Ghost pulls it from the man's neck, and it's casually wiped on the waist of his button-up. Red blossoms over the white cotton and despite knowing it's not from him, Flash can't help the small hitch in her breath.

It's presented to her hilt first, just inches from her face, but she's frozen in shock. The man's body lay awkwardly in the gravel, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, blood pouring from the now open wound at his neck. His chest stutters in an effort to pull oxygen into a pair of failing lungs. She can see the glowing reflection of windows in his wide, dark eyes, and moments later, the slow loosening of his facial muscles as he dies.

Ghost is watching her, and she can hear a faint mumble. Her name?

"Flash. We need to go" Ghost's words ring through her head like a bell and she snatches the knife from his hand before sliding it under her dress and into the sheath.

He moves quickly, throwing the limp body over his shoulder with ease before walking to the car and popping the trunk. Flash's eyes are glued to him as he drops the body in. The thud when it lands is deafening. A hot flash washes up her spine and she tries not to think about how casually Ghost closes the trunk and wipes his hands clean on his trousers.

Not quite knowing how to help, Flash walks over to the small patch of blood and kicks at the gravel. It doesn't do much, just creates a dusty sludge that bleeds into the soft velvet of her heels. Not that it matters though, the man's radio is already going off, a muffled and rather irritated voice calling out from inside the trunk.

When she's satisfied with the muddy brown concoction, Flash jogs over to the passenger door and slips inside. The door barely clicks shut before Ghost is speeding out the gates and swerving around a rather annoyed looking valet.

Flash watches over her shoulder for any sign of disturbance but instead notices Ghost's wolf mask tossed haphazardly on the back seat. In all the chaos, she'd missed him swapping them out. His usual balaclava has been pulled back on, hiding the strawberry blonde curls she'd had her hands in just minutes ago.

Flash's head thuds against the seat when she's finally sure no one is coming after them and she sags further down into the plush leather.

"Holy fuck." She breathes out and swallows what could either be vomit or a laugh. "There's a body in the trunk."

"Yes."

"You just killed him."

"I did."

"How did you-"

"Flash?" He interrupts her, eyes not leaving the road as he speaks. "Be quiet."

She glares at him and turns to make an off-hand comment about him being an ass but stops when she sees how rigid he is. Maybe she'd pushed a bit too far tonight. Maybe she hadn't pushed him far enough.

"How do you know he's not innocent?" She speaks softer this time, hoping she could sweet talk him back into the charismatic James she'd spent the night with.

"No one there is innocent Flash." His voice is cold and distant and entirely fed up with her pushing. She's on thin, thin ice.

"You could at least let me know next time. That really wasn't a fair warning."

It's petty. She doesn't need his warning, it's their job. But her mouth seems to be speaking on its own accord.

The ice cracks, echoing through the cavernous silence between them, and right as she's about to slip into the frigid waters, a life raft is thrown her way.

'What's your status?'

Price's static voice stops Ghost's response and he snatches the radio from where Flash had tossed it in the cup holder.

"Heading to the med bay now. Single casualty."

'Got caught up at the end then?'

"Somethin' like that."

The rest of the ride to the med bay is spent in silence. Flash stroking her fingers down the velvet nose of her mask and not thinking about ways to flay Ghost.

_____

    The cold concrete of the barricade seeps through the thin silk of Flash's dress and into the marrow of her bones. Despite Las Almas being a sauna during the day, its nights are shockingly cold, and in the middle of the desert with no buildings to block the brutal midnight wind, she is freezing.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Flash speaks into the cupped hollow of her hands. The warmth of her breath does practically nothing to stop the shivering.

Ghost had radioed into the med station a few minutes before their arrival to announce that they'd have a 'drop off' and to call in another car for the two of them to take back to the base. When they'd gotten there, Flash was immediately tugged through the main bay and into a blindingly white room that smelled so strongly of disinfectant, her nose still burned. She was patted over by a female nurse, given a curt nod, and pushed back out the door and towards a waiting Ghost. He'd mumbled something about waiting for a car and then walked them outside to a small retaining wall near the entrance.

"I don't know."

"Can't you just call them?" Flash asks, kicking another piece of gravel across the lot. The kicking had started as an attempt to scrape the congealed dirt and blood off her heel, but it only resulted in a thin layer of dust that covered both their shoes and a small hole.

"Call who Flash?" Ghost sits half hunched on the wall, arms supporting him on either side, legs crossed at the ankles, and looking utterly defeated.

"I don't know? The guy who's bringing the car?" She kicks a particularly large rock and it skitters across the pavement and bounces off a metal barrel, making a satisfying ring, so she does it again.

"I don't have-" His voice cuts off as she kicks another rock. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. Could you stop?"

"Don't be so fuckin' rude." She mumbles, and just to piss him off more, kicks another rock. Hard enough that when it hits the barrel, a small dent is left behind.

Flash watches through her periphery as he heaves a sigh, drops his head into his hands, and roughly rubs at his masked face.

She only lets herself feel guilty for a moment. He was the one ruining it. She'd been having fun at the gala. Despite the less than stimulating conversations, watching Ghost woo the various partygoers of Las Almas had been rather intriguing. Not to mention the dancing. Jesus Christ the dancing.

While the banter with the rest of the team had never gone as far as fucking her for god's sake, they certainly weren't holding church sermons. Price had chided her more than once for distracting the team while they were on the field and she was resting comfortably on the couch, radio in hand.

As soon as the words had left her mouth though, muttered into the silken hollow of his collarbone, she knew they were true. As much as he frustrated her, there was something about his presence that activated something primal inside her. That same primal feeling that had surfaced when she'd had him pinned to the ground and wheezing beneath her. It was addictive and dangerous.

"I'm sorry."

The words are spoken into the palms of his hands and although they sound forced, they seem genuine enough. She breaks from her all consuming thoughts and tugs at the hem of her dress in hopes that it would somehow extend to cover the bare few inches of skin that press into the cold concrete.

"Just don't be so uptight all the time." Flash bumps his shoulder with hers and offers him a small smile. "You'd be surprised how much better your life would be if you stopped all your huffing and puffing."

"You don't know shit about my life." The words are meant to be sharp, to ward her away from prodding further, but he speaks to his dust covered shoes.

"So tell me."

This stops Ghost's fidgeting. Flash thinks for a moment that he'll get up and walk away, leaving her to freeze to death alone. But he eventually drops his hands to his lap and raises his head to stare at the dark horizon.

"It's a lot."

Flash, despite his hunched frame and tired eyes, bumps their shoulders again.

"I don't see the car, and you can see for- I don't know," She peers dramatically down the road, "about ten miles."

"Ask Soap. He's a better storyteller than me." Ghost words are shortening, and Flash can see the wall she'd so carelessly blown through rebuilding. He's evading, and if she doesn't save it in time, who knows how long it will be until he's talking to her again.

"But I don't want to hear from Soap."

"You don't want to hear it from me either."

Flash sighs and then redirects. "What's your biggest fear?"

Ghost stills next to her, but this time she can see the hard set of his eyes softening, reluctance slipping away into indulgence.

"I thought you wanted to know about my life." He comments lightly, and Flash can't help but feel accomplished for recovering what little progress she'd made.

"I think fears tell a lot about a person." She hums, hoping her last-ditch effort at having a conversation sounds at least somewhat inquisitive.

Ghost's head tips up towards the sky, brow furrowed in thought.

"Throwing up."

"That's your biggest fear?" Flash doesn't have to ask to know that he's humoring her.

"What? Did you expect somethin' worse?"

There's a beat of silence, and then Ghost is speaking again.

"What's yours?"

"Dogs."

Silence again.

"Like pugs? Or-"

Flash shoves his shoulder and laughs loudly. "No you asshole. The big ones."

Despite the topic, a whirlwind of butterflies erupts in her stomach and the sound of their fluttering reaches her ears, filling them with a low hum. Then he's laughing. Not the small huffs from their usual teasing, full-stomach laughs. The whirlwind turns into a storm. It ravages her mind, twirling the sound into a song and repeating it over and over.

Flash stares at him, speechless, afraid that if she speaks, the storm brewing inside her will somehow escape and drench the both of them in things she'd rather leave unsaid. She wants to tell him to never stop, to ask exactly what she'd said that was so funny so she could repeat it every day for the rest of their time together. To peel off that damn mask and watch every minuscule movement of his face.

Ghost doesn't seem to mind the lack of response though. When his amusement has faded to a small smile under his mask, his head lolls to his shoulder and he closes his eyes.

They wait the rest of the time in silence. Ghost unmoving and still resting his eyes and Flash unabashedly staring. Even though she knows that the idea is ridiculous, he seems to be warming the space between them. The ice that she'd so carefully tread on before melting away.

He doesn't open his eyes until the car rolls up in front of them and a casually dressed man tosses the keys in his direction. Ghost catches them in his hand and stretches languidly when he stands, revealing a small sliver of skin along his waistline. With his back turned to her, Flash stares at the strip, burning it into her memory.

"You can kick rocks all night," Ghost slips his hands into his pockets and starts a slow, casual walk towards the car, "but you're not going to get what you want."

"And what's that?"

Flash's question is meant to be coy, to push yet another button. But the song left playing in her ears softens her words, they come out quiet and searching.

"A reaction." He punctuates the last word by kicking a rock at the barrel. It hits the small dent that she'd made and ricochets back to land just a few inches from her feet.

"Asshole." She mutters and steps over the rock, ignoring the urge to pick it up and chuck it at his head.

Flash bites her tongue when the thought of teasing him about their dancing comes up. She'd most definitely gotten a reaction out of him then. But she instead follows him and slips into the passenger seat of the small truck.

It's certainly a downgrade from the Porsche. The smell of dust and sweat fills her nose and she debates waiting outside until the med team is done clearing the other car. But Ghost is already buckled and turning the key in the ignition.

"Who's car was that?" Flash asks while pulling a worn seatbelt over her shoulder.

"Alejandro's."

She can't help but laugh at his response. They'd most likely be getting an earful upon their return. It doesn't take a genius to see that he takes care of his car.

The truck, despite running just seconds ago, is just as cold as the air outside. When she jams her finger into the heater button, the vents remain stagnant.

"Shit." She huffs and resorts to shoving her hands under her shivering thighs.

Ghost, seemingly without thinking, tosses her his suit jacket.

"Here, stop whining." He's back to his gruff, nonchalant manner of speaking, but it lacks its usual stiffness.

"You aren't cold?"

"No."

"I guess you are built like a fuckin' polar bear." The words slip out before she can stop them, but Ghost just shakes his head, still sporting the small smile from before.

"Do you ever have any consequences for what comes out of your mouth?" Ghost's question is spoken as a sigh. He props an elbow against the car door and leans his head against it, steering with one hand. The motion is achingly domestic.

"No." Her reply is muffled as she burrows herself into the jacket, warm from being stuffed under Ghost's arm while they waited.

It's true. There's very little that she could say or do that would get her in any sort of trouble. She's a hot commodity, and it didn't take much for people to realize. Ghost just hasn't had a chance to see it yet.

"One of these days, they're going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Oh, you'll scare them away." She looks up at him through her lashes, but he's focused on the road.

"I'd let them get a few good hits in. Then maybe."

Flash's grin is hidden beneath the coat, but she's sure he can hear it when she speaks next.

"You wouldn't protect me?" Her question is coy. She knows it and he probably does too.

"You don't need me to protect you."

"But if I asked you to?"

There's a pause, and she watches his side profile shift as he clenches his jaw. His fingers tap against the steering wheel. Once, twice.

"Yes."

_____

    They're nearly back to the base when she slips back onto the ice and into the freezing water. This time though, there is no life raft.

"I'm dropping you off." Ghost is exacerbated, clenching the wheel with both hands now. "You're not missing out on anything."

"Then why does it matter if I go or not?" Her question is a half yell, quieter than her first complaint, but louder than necessary.

Their easy back and forth, borderline flirting, conversation only lasted a few more minutes before Ghost mentioned he'd be dropping her off at the base before meeting the rest of the team at a local bar to 'celebrate'.

He'd told her, not asked. Told.

The not so quiet rage that had been building over her last few weeks stuck at the base rears its ugly head. Apparently pinning him to a mat didn't make it clear enough. She's tired of decisions being made for her.

"Because you aren't needed there."

Ghost's words bleed through her like a freezing wind. She grapples to hold onto the song in her ears, but the fluttering in her stomach increases and this time it's deafening.

"You know, for how much you mope. You put a shit ton of effort into ruining your friendships."

It's a low blow. But the anger burning hot in her stomach scorches the fluttering and thrums through her veins. She wants to hurt him.

"There's nothing there to be ruined."

The words are empty. A shell of his earlier reprimands. And Flash knows it's a weak strategy to push her far enough away that he can rebuild his wall in peace. But that doesn't stop the words from burrowing deep into the space between her ribs and wrapping around her lungs. It fills them with a cold air and the jacket still wrapped tightly around her shoulders does nothing to fight it.

"Okay." Flash bites back the flurry of emotion driven insults threatening to pry their way out of her mouth. If it were anyone else, she wouldn't hesitate to rip them to shreds, but she knows Ghost is lying.

The rest of the ride to the base is a painful silence. Flash can see his jaw working in her periphery, he wants to say something, but he remains quiet and focused on the road ahead of them. She glares at him and then turns to stare out her window.

When the car whines to a stop in front of the depressingly dark outline of their base, Flash doesn't bother saying goodbye when she slips from the car and drops the suit jacket on her seat. She's just about to shut the door when he finally speaks up.

"Hope."

"What?" Flash's voice is bitter and unrelenting.

"You asked what my biggest fear was." He doesn't look away from his grip on the wheel. "It's hope."

The furrow of her brow softens for a moment and sympathy begins to ebb away at the rejection burning in her stomach. But his words ring through her head 'you aren't needed' and any expressions of comfort beginning to form die on her tongue.

She watches his face for a moment, waiting for him to turn. When he doesn't, she lets the sour words slip from her mouth. Simple but effective.

"I think you're just scared of yourself." She doesn't give him time to respond before shutting the door and walking towards the base, trying her best to ignore the burning behind her eyes.

_____

    Flash's next few moments are a whirlwind. Swapping her dress for the sweats and t-shirt flung on the floor that morning, jogging back to the kitchen to look at the grocery list style of numbers on the fridge, and calling Alejandro.

If he was with them at the bar she'd just have to stew in her room until Gaz came back. Although he'd probably be intoxicated and an easy target, she needs some way to dispel the hurt and anger pulsing through her veins.

Much to her surprise, he answers within the first few rings and twenty minutes later he arrives with a bottle of wine in hand and Valeria tow.

"Rude of them to leave you to celebrate your success sober." He had murmured while pulling a container of strawberries from their fridge. Gaz would kill her for eating them, but consequences seemed nonexistent at the moment.

She's leaning against the counter now, watching the way his forearms move while expertly slicing the strawberries. Valeria stands next to her speaking in a low tone.

"So," She starts, turning her chin resting in her hand to face Flash, "how did you end up here?"

Flash shifts to lean her hip into the counter, reluctantly peeling her eyes from Alejandro's smooth movements, and wonders what version of her story she wants to give.

"Same as everyone else. A fucked childhood that left me with no other option."

It was a half truth. Starting a conversation by telling someone she'd won scholarships to nearly every advanced military school in the country by climbing to the top of the performance ranks in less than a year isn't something that people could relate to. Childhood trauma on the other hand is a jackpot.

"Ah." Valeria's smile softens and she turns to look at Alejandro, who's now pouring the wine into three glasses that have seen better days. "We've heard that one plenty of times haven't we Ale."

When he nods his head, Valeria turns back to Flash with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now tell me the truth."

Flash accepts a glass from Alejandro and stares into the deep maroon of the wine before answering.

"I'm good."

"That's it?" Alejandro's laugh is loud and echoes through the empty room. "You've made it this far by being good?"

"I'm better than good." She offers, still not looking up from her glass.

Warm fingers slip under her chin and bring her gaze up to meet a pair of enveloping brown eyes.

"Don't be shy." Valeria's words are a quiet murmur. "You weren't so quiet earlier, what changed?"

Flash's jaw clenches, who was Ghost to make her feel small? Her gaze holds Valeria's when she speaks next and although her words are quiet, they're more confident than before.

"I'm the best you'll ever meet."

"There's my Pantera."

Valeria drops her chin, scoops up her glass and the bowl of cut strawberries, and slides so gracefully onto the couch that Flash wonders how she's not the one being named after a panther. "Come, sit."

Alejandro leads the way and claims the opposite side of the couch, leaving Flash to sit between them. It's a comfortable arrangement, there's enough room for them to sit and not be crammed together, but the weight of both their gazes makes the space seem impossibly smaller.

"What do you usually talk about while celebrating?" She asks, leaning over to grab a small handful of strawberries from the bowl Valeria left on the coffee table. It's a poor conversation starter, but the silence between them has Flash shifting on her cushion. And from the smile on Alejandro's face, they know.

"Do you really want to know?" He continues lowly when she nods her head. "We debate who we want to take home for the night."

Valeria tuts at him, "Don't be so brash Ale. We talk about other things too."

Flash brings her glass of wine up to her mouth in an attempt to cover her shocked expression but realizes that this means she actually has to drink it. Without giving her brain enough time to overreact, Flash tips a mouthful in and swallows. The taste is horrendous and she doesn't bother hiding it.

Alejandro laughs loudly at her expression and Valeria just shakes her head with a small smile, "It's meant to be sipped, darling. Not swallowed."

Not wanting to embarrass herself further, Flash just sets the glass down on the table and returns to the fruit in her hand.

"You could have said that." She mumbles against a strawberry pressed to her lips. The tart of the berry is a sweet reprieve from the rotten taste of the wine. The two sitting opposite of her seem to have no problem with the taste, leisurely sipping as though it's something to be savored.

"So Flash," Alejandro's eyes dance with dangerous excitement. " Are you a virgin? "

She chokes on a half-chewed berry, "Excuse me?"

"Just general questions. I ask everyone." He gestures behind her. "Right Valeria?"

"Right."

Flash remains silent, rubbing the cool of the strawberry against her lips and willing the blush away from her cheeks.

"Have you ever been kissed before?"

"Yes!" She blurts her answer out and all it does is set off a round of laughter between the two of them.

Her first kiss had been with a- for lack of a better term, boyfriend at the academy, Jake. A twenty three year old recruit who'd got a little too excited when she'd pinned him. He never did more than peck her on the lips though, arguing that anything else would distract him from his work. She broke things off three days later.

"Have you ever had someone's tongue in your mouth?" His blatant question catches her off guard. Although the pink hue of his cheeks show the effects of the wine kicking in. She's spent enough time with Alejandro to know that this is just the way he operates, on a 'better to ask for forgiveness than get permission' basis.

Flash shakes her head lamely, giving up on the stoic, unresponsive act. It clearly wasn't working.

He sets his glass on the coffee table and crooks a finger at her, smiling devilishly.

"Come here, let me show you something."

She sets her handful of strawberries back in the bowl and glances back at Valeria who gives her an encouraging nod. Flash uncrosses her legs and leans forward, expecting him to give her a quick peck.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

She's about to ask him what he means when he brings his hands down to her waist and pulls her up to straddle his lap.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is breathy and light and her stomach rolls with nerves. Although it's not what she expected, she's not one to complain.

"Relax Rubia." His face is just inches from hers, "Do you want me to show you what you're missing out on?"

Nerves race through her veins and the heat of Alejandro's hands on her waist burn straight through her skin and into the heat of her stomach. What's the worst that could happen? Gaz had talked about having sex with other team members, surely a kiss wouldn't hurt. All she can muster is a short nod of her head.

Alejandro is the light at the end of her tunnel of pent-up frustration and by god is he bright.

"Words." He chides.

"Yes."

Although she's given permission, his advance is painfully slow. The hands gripping her waist, guide her to sit back on his thighs, and brush her hair behind her ear in one smooth movement, before resting gently against her cheek.

Warm lips press softly against hers and she practically melts in his hands. He's surprisingly gentle, pressing two light kisses to her lips before nosing at her cheek and placing another over the burning skin.

"She's a Pantera Alejandro. I'm sure she can handle more."

Flash jumps at the sound of Valeria's voice. She's moved to sit next to them, lounging on the cushion and watching with a cocked head. She smirks at Flash's surprise. She didn't even see her move.

"Slow Valeria." He chides. His low voice is spoken into the soft spot below her ear, words caressing her skin and whispering down her spine. "We don't want to spook her."

Lips part against her neck and the hot press of his tongue is followed by a cool stream of air. Flash chokes on her next inhale and swallows down the ragged moan threatening her ego. Nothing Jake ever did felt this good.

"Did you like that Rubia?" Alejandro's voice is light and teasing.

"Yes I-." Before she even finishes her answer, he's doing it again, this time following the lick with a quick nip of teeth. Her response turns into an embarrassingly loud half-whimper.

"You're a tease." She bites out, pausing on the last word as he mouths his way back up to her ear.

"Ah, but you like it. No?"

Flash doesn't have to see his face to know he's smiling. It's taken him less than a minute to turn her into putty, and now he's happily kneading.

When he presses his lips to hers this time, the hot slide of his tongue at her lower lip parts her mouth in a gasp. He wastes no time. Weaving one hand into the hair at the back of her head and the other squeezing at her waist, Alejandro kisses her fervently and without abandon.

The room spins beneath her, weakening her knees. If she wasn't held fast to Alejandro's lap, she'd probably be on the floor. The taste of strawberries and wine fill her senses and twirl her into a daze.

The hands previously resting at her side slide up the muscular length of his arms and into his hair. It's not quite as long as Ghost's but her fingers still easily grip at the soft waves. Ghost. A pang of guilt threatens to pull her from her reverie, but Alejandro quickly snatches her attention back by taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down.

A defensive flare burns up her chest and she bites back harder. Alejandro groans into her mouth, the sound burns down her chest and settles low in her belly. The hand that was gripping at her waist slides up and to the small of her back, arching her into his chest. She presses close and can feel the hard muscle of his abdomen through the thin cotton of their shirts.

When he breaks the kiss, there's a strand of saliva connecting their mouths. He doesn't hesitate in pulling her back to drag a slow lick up her parted lips. Jesus fucking Christ. Dark eyes watch her closely when he pulls back and Flash is seconds away from begging him to do it again when a warm hand at her waist pulls her attention to an impatient looking Valeria.

"My turn." She murmurs, voice soft and low. "Can I kiss you?"

Flash, despite Alejandro's earlier insistence, can only nod in response.

She is identical to Alejandro in her slow start, dragging a soft hand over Flash's brow bone before swiping her thumb across slick lips. Fingers pinch Flash's chin and pull her forward. Valeria's lips are soft but her kiss is anything but. The hungry lick of her tongue gives Flash little time to adjust, but when she does, a delighted tremor wracks her body.

Warm hands slide beneath her shirt and then Valeria is pulling her down to grind against Alejandro's thigh. A moan is pressed into Valeria's mouth and electricity courses hot through her body.

Alejandro is quick to stop them. Large hands close over Valeria's on her hips and hold them still. She wants to pull them off, to give in to the warm sensation Valeria's hands are creating. He's persistent though.

"Valeria." Alejandro's words are a clear warning but his voice is thick and heady. If she didn't know better, she'd say Alejandro was enjoying this just as much as her.

Much to her disappointment, Valeria listens to his one-worded order. She rolls Flash's bottom lip between her teeth before placing one more kiss against her mouth and settling back.

Flash is left in a daze. Half-lidded eyes watch as Valeria straightens the hair that Flash had been pulling at just moments before.

"Just touching Mi Amor." Her words are breathy and the apples of her cheeks glow a soft pink.

"I was just showing our Rubia here what she's missing out on. I am not looking for a death threat."

Alejandro's words have her turning back to gaze at him in confusion. Although the lustful tint to his eyes is still present, he seems to have pulled himself together a lot quicker than Flash.

"Death threat?" Her voice is wrecked and Alejandro smirks at the sound. Whatever scrap of ego she had left lay tattered on the ground.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed." He caresses the side of her face, proving to be an awfully good distraction from their conversation.

"Noticed what?" She breathes and turns to Valeria for an explanation. The woman just smiles and tilts her head to the side in an artful manner.

"You seem to be haunted by a certain ghost Flash." She tuts at her. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"You mean Ghost?" She rushes, still recuperating from the mind numbing kiss that she'd gotten from two different people.

"Yes, Flash." Alejandro laughs it away like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"That man doesn't care about anyone other than himself." She says and swings her leg back to sit in her spot. Suddenly, sitting on Alejandro's lap isn't as exciting as before, and the once warm feeling in her stomach turns heavy.

"And that's where you're wrong." Valeria swirls a finger along the rim of her glass before gazing up at Flash through dark lashes. "We just had to dip our toes in before you're off the market. God help the bastards that try to trespass."

Flash flinches at her metaphor, "I'm not a piece of property." She glares at the two of them and their shockingly calm demeanor. Speaking as though they didn't just have their tongues in her mouth just minutes before. Her heart still beat wildly in her chest, and the cold taste of the strawberries did little to cool the heat of her cheeks.

"Honey," Valeria reaches out to stroke her calf, "the moment you signed that contract you became a piece of real estate."

She's saved from responding to another cryptic metaphor by the familiar sound of doors slamming shut. Not wanting to be barraged by questions from the rest of the team, Flash grabs the bowl of fruit, mutters a small goodnight to the pair staring at her from the couch, and rushes off to her room.

So much for blowing off some steam.

_____

    Flash is sitting cross-legged on her bed cleaning the blood flecked knife with a polishing cloth when a knock sounds through the room.

"Come in!"

She doesn't have to ask who it is. The stumbling and laughing are telling enough.

"Stop." Gaz's giggle sounds easily through the thin wood of the door. "I got it!"

The door swings open to reveal a relatively drunk Gaz and Soap. Hair mussed and cheeks pinkened, both look like they've had an eventful night.

"Hello gorgeous." Gaz drawls. "Wiping away the evidence of your most recent murderous rampage?"

Flash can't say she's not impressed at his coherency. She almost lets him off the hook. Almost.

"Don't make me have to start over." She points the knife at him and then gestures at the door. "Out."

A half hour ago, she would have welcomed the playful banter and taken it as an opportunity to wrestle him to the ground. But the weight of the day has her pinned to her bed.

"Aw, she's so mean." Gaz's head drops to Soap's shoulder and he doesn't shove him off.

Flash thinks back to Gaz's earlier confession and eyes the point of contact before glancing down at the relatively small space between them. Interesting. When she looks at Soap though, his eyes are trained on the knife balanced in her hand.

"Ghost let you borrow one of his knives?" His voice is incredulous and he takes a hesitant step forward.

"What?" She looks down at the silver case in front of her. She hadn't even noticed. The case was nearly identical to the one that was always neatly polished and tucked carefully into his breast pocket. "No, he bought these for me at the market."

"Oh." His mouth tips down and she recognizes the familiar expression of rejection. He's usually pretty good at keeping his emotions in check, she has no doubt it's the alcohol coursing through his blood that's giving them front row seats to his inner turmoil

Gas buts in oblivious to Soap's pouting, "So he's buying you two matching knives? Seems like it's getting pretty serious. Are you sure you're not fucking?"

Flash chokes on her next inhale. She'd have to get better at locking her door if this was going to become a regular occurrence.

"You know." Gaz looks at her with a devilish smile. "Just because Price went dark during your guy's little dance doesn't mean we did."

Oh fuck.

A/N: I’m currently dying (maybe that’s a tad dramatic) in bed with the flu and am in desperate need of entertainment. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them in my ama! <3

[avengerscompound]

The Recruit - 36. You

The Recruit - An Avengers Fanfiction

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 3665

Warnings: smut (seven person bisexual orgy, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, double vaginal penetration)

Synopsis:  When Sam Wilson is set up on a blind date, he doesn’t expect anything to come from it.  He is already in a relationship after all, and not just with one other person, but a whole group of them. You never expected to end up working for the Avengers let alone be dating six of them at the same time.  Now you’re balancing a new job, a new romance, new friends, and a secret that could destroy a lot of lives if it got out.  It’s a tricky balance to get right at the best of times, but when something happens to Steve Rogers it’s up to the people who love him most to get him back.

36. You

Getting to know Steve Rogers again was much easier than the first time around.  The thing was, in the version of Steve you had known, he was still in there.  It was just that before everything had been so extreme.  You’d had to walk on eggshells around him, not sure if saying or doing something would set off his anger or his sex drive.

Now those extremes were smoothed off.  He could still be very serious.  He could still give you a look that made you feel like a kid who had just gotten in trouble with their father, but you weren’t scared that you were going to ignite something dangerous in him.  More than that, when he was very serious or not playing around with you or the others, you felt safe to tease him about it.

Where his extremes had been smoothed off in one direction, there were parts of him that had been suppressed by the thing that was in him.  He was sweeter now.  More tender.  He had a quick wit and an adorable playful side.  You went very quickly from being hesitant and unsure if this was going to work, to well and truly in love with the man.

The others were right all along.  It was really hard not to love Steve Rogers.

There was a lot more going on in your life than just getting to know Steve.  For starters, you now had a new job as a full Avengers Agent.  You were a combat field agent, which meant that if the Avengers were called out to fight, you were usually right there along with them.  There were also smaller skirmishes that you could be called out to, things that didn’t need a Hulk or Iron Man, you’d be there.  Thankfully that kind of thing wasn’t an everyday occurrence, and you could go a week or more with nothing happening, but there had been things.  Sam and Bucky had taken a group out to deal with a group of domestic terrorists threatening to release a virus.  Natasha had word of the Red Room being up and running again, and you and a group of agents went to break that up.  Clint had taken a few people in to arrest people selling alien weapons to collectors in an illegal auction in the city.  The biggest sting you were part of in those early months was the one where the Avengers had found the H.Y.D.R.A. base where Steve had been headed the day he’d run.  There was more of that Black sludge in bulletproof glass cases.  It turned out to be some kind of alien creature that formed a symbiotic relationship with other lifeforms but altered their thoughts to be more feral and primal.  H.Y.D.R.A. had somehow reprogrammed their thoughts the way it had done to Bucky all those years ago. The creatures were now totally loyal to the organization.

Being a full agent meant you didn’t see all your old recruit friends as much.  Collins was in IT, Qadira worked in the infirmary (though she’d come out to the field on rotation with the other medics), and Jacqui was held back for more of the bigger superhero events. It was strange for them not all to be there, but you all made time for weekly drinks at Valhalla, and when something else came up with any of them, like weekend barbeques, drag shows, or parties, there was always an invitation for you.

Then there was the whole going public thing.  The group didn’t make any announcements.  No questions were answered outside of no comment, or not answering questions about personal lives.  So it wasn’t so much about going public, it was about not hiding.

It meant there was a lot of speculation about what was going on with the group when you all started going out together.  There were rumors about different pairings, about cheating, about break ups and make-ups. Occasionally there were fans in comments on articles that suggested the theory that maybe there was some level of polyamory going on, and on one of the more liberal press sites they mentioned the rumor about polyamory with some accompanying photos of different members of your polycule being publicly affectionate with each other as possible evidence.  But even that article was passed off as a joke.  A public wink with a cheeky ‘oh maybe, are they…?’ With a very clear, probably not but good for them if they are at the end.

So far the whole group had not gone out together on a date.  There had been pairs, and a couple of trios, and once Steve, Bucky, Sharon, and Natasha had stopped at a diner after dealing with something downtown, and had ended up in the gossip columns talking about their double date, but logistics and time had meant that all seven of you hadn’t been able to go anywhere all together.

Tonight, that had all changed.  A booking had been made and the group had gone out to do that one date that Steve had been waiting all these years to do.  You had all gone dancing.

It was the same club you had gone to with Sharon what felt like a whole lifetime ago now.  Everyone had dressed up.  Clint wore a three-piece suit in purple with a long gothic-looking jacket.  Sharon wore a white aline halter neck dress, with an asymmetrical skirt that had white tulle layered over the white satin.  Sam wore a very tailored red suit that hugged his silhouette.  The jacket had a wide blue satin collar and he’d worn a white band collar shirt under it.  Bucky wore head-to-toe black that came complete with suspenders and a fedora. Natasha wore a black capped sleeve, a line dress, with a peekaboo panel in dark red.  Steve had a real gangster look, in his dark blue three-piece suit with red pinstripes.  You were also in an a-line dress - blue with white polka dots and black neckline, halter strap, and sash around your waist.  Everyone had gone all out for the date, and the result was amazing.

You’d all eaten together, and then danced, pairing off and staying close to each other.  Given there was an odd number of you, pairing up meant there was a leftover.  At the start of the night, that meant that three people would sit out while four danced.  As the night progressed and drinks were had, everyone's inhibitions dropped and all seven of you danced at once, the extra person always being absorbed into one of the other pairs.

It was fun and frantic and it kept your heart rate up.  When Steve led you onto the dance floor, the song changed to a slow jazz number.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and he put his hands on your hips, and the two of you just started to sway with the song.  “Tonight has been so fun,” you said as you looked up into his eyes.

He smiled back down at you, his blue eyes soft and shimmering in the low lights of the dancefloor.  “It has been.  I’m so glad I waited to do this with all of you.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment, just enjoying the moment with him.  He wrapped his arms around you a little tighter, pressing his lips to your temple.  “Happy?” he asked.

You pulled back to look back up at him.  “I am so happy. I know what led to getting here wasn’t great, but I think even before I got here, some of the others wanted to stop hiding the relationship.  And now we’re not, I feel so much better.  I’m so excited to introduce you all to my family and friends outside the tower.  I love that we can do this.  What about you?”

Steve took a deep breath and hummed happily.  “I am happy.  I know we have detractors and people who think they get a say about who we get to love.  But I don’t care about what they say.  And you know what?  For every person who has said we’re sick or wrong, there have been two that are happy for us, or glad to see themselves represented by people like us.  And I love being able to go out with you all.  I do hate the attention we get, but I know that would happen no matter if I was monogamous or not.  I am really happy.”

You reached up and caressed his cheek.  Your heart felt full and you could feel his love and happiness radiating off of him. You hadn’t said those three little words to Steve yet. Now was the time. “I love you, Steve.”

He smiled and leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.  “I love you too.”

He kissed you, and you melted into it, pressing your whole body against his, letting yourself sink into the moment as the music washed over you.  He pulled back, just a little and brought his lips to your ear.  “I think it might be time to go home,” he whispered.

You grinned back at him. “I think you might be right,” you agreed.

It didn’t take too much to convince the rest of the group it was time to go home.  By the time you were back, anticipation was high.  As soon as the door closed behind you at Steve's apartment everyone started shedding their clothes.  They were left like a trail of breadcrumbs to the bedroom, each of you kissing and grabbing at each other on the way down the hall.

When you passed through the door, Sharon grabbed your hand and spun you into her arms.  Both of you were already down to your panties, and your breasts pushed up against each other.  She kissed you deeply and you moved with her as if you were dancing.  Around you, there was much of the same happening.  Clint was kissing Natasha as Bucky moved in closer behind her and kissed her neck, and Steve and Sam were kissing frantically and backed her toward the bed. 

You climbed up on the mattress and Sharon climbed up after you. You were mirroring each other.  When you pushed your thigh between her legs, she pushed hers between yours.  When you started to grind on her, she did the same to you.  When her fingers slipped into your panties and began to circle your clit, you pushed your hand into her panties.

The whole time the two of you kissed.  You had no idea what the others were doing, except that they were close to you because anytime they moved, it made the bed dip on either side of you.  Your whole attention was on Sharon.  The way her body felt against yours.  The way her fingers ran over your clit and pushed inside you.  The way her cunt clenched around your fingers and dripped down your wrist.  Your pulse raced and you felt so hot, it was like a wildfire had been set under your skin, burning you up from the inside out.

Her fingers pushed against your g-spot, dragging over it, as her thumb rubbed circles on your clit, and as it did, you did the same to her.  Closer and closer, she pulled you to the edge, and from the sound of her breathy moans, and the flutter of her cunt, you knew you were doing the same to her.  Almost as one, your orgasms hit, and the two of you cry out and shudder against each other.

You continued to kiss as your orgasms passed.  Gradually Sharon pulled back and grinned at you.  “Come on, let’s go see what everyone else is doing.”

Bucky and Clint were currently on their knees and kissing each other like they had something to prove.  While Natasha, Steve, and Sam were tangled together.  Sharon moved over to the group of three, as you crawled over to Bucky and Clint.

“Hey, beautiful,” Bucky said as you approached them.  “Want to be the meat in our sandwich?”

You laughed and pushed your panties down, and tossed them to the side. “Oh boy, when you put it like that, how can I resist?”

Clint started laughing and took your hand, laying back on the bed and guiding you on top of him.  You straddled his waist and he grabbed his cock and held it up as you sank onto it, both of you moaning as he filled you.  Bucky grabbed the lube from the side table and lubed up his cock.  On either side of you, Sharon was now pushing Sam on his back and climbing on top of him, while Natasha had gotten on all fours and Steve was fucking her from behind.  Clint pulled you down tight against him and the two of you began to kiss.  A moment later, the head of Bucky’s cock was pressed up against your entrance beside Clint’s, and he started to push in.

There was a sting and burn as he breached you, and you cried out and bucked your hips.

“You okay, honey?” Bucky asked.  He stopped pushing forward and began to rub your clit.  Right away, warmth started to coil through you, making that burn in your entrance go from pain to pleasure.

You nodded emphatically.  “Yes.  Keep going.  Fill me up.”

Bucky pushed in, stretching you out and filling you, and you mewled loudly.  When he was fully seated inside you, both men just stayed still, letting you adjust to the size of them.  You took the moment to glance around at the others, Sharon’s tits were bouncing rhythmically as she rode Sam, and Steve’s face was set in pure bliss while he thrust into Natasha from behind.

Seeing them all lost in their own pleasure set yours off more, and you moaned and clenched around Clint and Bucky’s cocks.  They both began to fuck you, their hips moving counter to each other, so when one pulled out, the other thrust in.  It was intense and it sent a hot current surging through your core.  It became hard to focus on anything else besides the two men.  You were vaguely aware of the other four, but what you could take in, only sent you spiralling to the edge even faster.  Bucky began to rub your clit and Clint leaned up and pulled one of your nipples into his mouth.

You couldn’t hold it together.  You arched back against Bucky, keening as your nails dug into Clint’s shoulders.  Bucky pinched your clit and it sent you rocketing over the edge, crying out as you came, your cunt squeezing tight around both men's cocks. 

Bucky thrust forward gritting his teeth and groaning as he tried to hold himself together, and Clint’s hips stuttered.  “Shit,” he gasped.  “Nearly took me over with you.”

You laughed breathlessly as your orgasm passed through you.  “Trying to hold out ‘til the end?”

“You know it, honey,” he said.

Bucky pulled out of you, and you slid off from the top of Clint and the two of you just lay there for a moment, catching your breath.

The others had taken their cue from you, breaking their pairs and moving to create new ones.  You crawled over to Natasha and she reached out to you, pulling you into a deep kiss.  Sam moved up behind you, running his hands up your back and kissing your shoulder. When you broke the kiss with Natasha and leaned back to kiss Sam, she lay back, spreading her legs in front of you.  Natasha played with her clit as she watched you and Sam kissing.  He kissed you deeply and tenderly.  You could taste Sharon’s cunt on his lips and you tried to suck off every last drop of her.

He pulled back and smiled at you.  “I think Natasha might want something from you.”

You laughed and stole one last kiss before dropping down between her legs.  She lifted her hips to meet you and grabbed your hair, pulling you down to her cunt.  “That’s a girl,” she praised.  “Get to work.”

You laughed and licked a stripe up her cunt, the tart, musky flavor of her arousal coating your tongue.  You both moaned and as you swirled your tongue around, tasting as much of her as you could, Sam pressed the head of his cock to your entrance and sunk into you.

In the position you were in, you had no idea what was going on around you.  You could barely even hear their moans with your head pinned between Natasha’s thighs.  You licked and sucked at Natasha’s cunt and Sam thrust into you from behind.  His hips snapped hard and fast, jolting you forward each time your bodies came together.

You were already so on the edge, that even just the hard slap of Sam’s hips as she shoved inside you was enough for your next orgasm to start to build.  Your cunt tingled and heat spread out through you, making your toes curl.  The worry that you’d end up coming far too fast, so you doubled down, focusing completely on Natasha.

You pulled her clit between your lips and suckled on it, as you shoved two of your fingers inside her.  She was so wet already that every time you thrust them in and out of her, it made a wet squelch.  You fucked her quickly with your fingers, your elbow pistoning as you shoved into her hard and fast.

The sounds she made were loud and animalistic and she started to hump your face and pull your hair.  It brought you even closer to the edge and you began to clench around Sam’s cock, your legs trembling.  It was hard to hold it together, and you decided the only thing you could do was try and bring Natasha on as fast as you could.

You curled your fingers and dug them into Natasha’s g-spot, and began to just hammer your fingertips against it as hard as you could as you sucked greedily on her clit.  At the same time, Sam started rubbing your clit.

It happened almost simultaneously.  Natasha’s cunt clenched around your fingers, she arched up off the bed, and her legs clamped around your head as she came, crying out loudly.  At the same time, your whole body seized up and you jerked forward as your own orgasm tore through you.  Sam kept thrusting but it became more erratic.

When Sam finally pulled out of you, you and Natasha just collapsed there, tangled together, breathing heavily.  Her fingers ran through your hair, and Sam rubbed your hip.  “You okay?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed.

The bed dipped on the side of you, and you looked up to see Steve looking down at you.  “You have one more in you?” he asked, holding out his hand to you.

You hummed and took his hand, letting him pull you up.  “Yeah.  I think I can do one more.”

He guided you up and sat back, crossing his legs lotus style.  You climbed into his lap and as you lowered yourself down, he guided his cock into you.  Even as large as he was, you were so wet and so turned on that he slid into you easily.  You moaned and wrapped your arms and legs around his waist.  His arms wrapped around you and one hand slid up to the back of your skull, pulling you into a deep kiss.  You moaned into his lips rocking your hips with him.

Around you, the others had split up again. Bucky was on his back holding onto Sam’s hips as the man rode him, his cock bouncing and slapping against Bucky’s stomach.  Natasha was on her back as Clint fucked her and Sharon rode her face.

You pulled back from the kiss and looked down into Steve’s eyes.  “This is the first time we’ve been together when it was just you,” you said in a breathless half-moan.

“And it’s the first time it’s been all seven of us,” he added.  “We better make it good.”

You smiled at him and cradled his cheeks.  “It’s already good.”

He kissed you again, passionately, his head tilted and his tongue dancing with yours.  You matched the passion and moved your hips with his.  It was so different than with the others, or even with him before.  The way Steve was with you was sensual and tender, but passionate and heated.  You weren’t being fucked, you were making love, and as you were brought closer and closer to your release, you started to feel overwhelmed with that feeling.  Your hands scrambled at his hair, curling in it and smoothing over it.  “Steve, I love you,” you babbled.  “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too,” he replied breathlessly, holding your hips and snapping his up into you.

Your orgasm built, winding its way through you like vines around each of your muscles.  It peaked, and one after another they pulled tight, making you arch back in his arms as your orgasm took hold of you.  Steve wasn’t too far behind you, he bucked up hard as your cunt clenched around his cock, and he emptied inside you. 

You wrapped your hands around him and nuzzled into his cheek, your emotions feeling overwhelmed.  He held you close and pressed his lips to your temple. “It’s okay, honey.  I’ve got you.  I love you so much.”

Gradually, as everyone finished around you, the whole group squeezed themselves into the bed. You were feeling so much, and all of it was good.  You were happy, in love, and your future looked bright.  You’d managed to balance work, relationships, family, and friends.  There was no way of knowing what the future would hold, but there was one thing this year had taught you, you weren’t alone, and with all these people that loved you, you could face anything.

~ END ~

[pupntumble]

aphrodisiac/love potion from the POV of the person who gave the other person the drugs?

Some kid in your frat grew up close enough to the university that he still lives in his parent's house, and he's been using this gift to host shit parties every time they're out of town. Driving up the hill to his McMansion makes you bite your cheek to keep down the jealous rant you've been writing in your head for the past half hour. While you've got student loans and two roommates, he's living life easy on a trust fund. But you keep your mouth shut. Insults don't get you through the gate, flattery does. Flattery, and the various drinks stowed away in your trunk. Your major in alchemy is the only reason you're in the frat at all, getting drunk next to sorcerers with heritage bloodlines and wizard kids that buy pre-written spellbooks, all of them too sheltered to realize they're paying triple the price any of these concoctions would normally be worth.

You park sideways in the gravel driveway, walk up to the door and knock. You're let in immediately. It takes a few minutes to obtain a folding table, setting up buckets full of ice with little note cards in front of each one before shoving the bottles in haphazardly. Setup sells the show, but anything too fancy would stick out like sore thumb. You head to the swanky in-house cinema once you're done. It's where your usual group hangs out, out of the way but not far enough to seem antisocial. There's a dip in the floor right in front of the giant screen, probably meant to double as an altar or some other rich-person shit. Whatever it's used for, it makes a great spot for chitchat and drinking games, and you've got a suggestion for tonight's fun.

It doesn't take long for people to filter in. There's the crowd that always ends up here, plus a few guests, other students that got curious as to what you were doing. You recognize one of them. He's some sort of star student, a born sorcerer from what's supposed to be a warlock family. Nobody calls him an illegitimate child to his face, but it's an open secret, no matter how much he acts like he's better than everyone else. Seeing him here gives you an idea, actually. Something that might be a little more fun than you expected.

"Okay, I've got a suggestion for the next game. New spin on a classic. Everybody knows spin the bottle, everybody's played before, and everybody has clearly programed hard. So consider: We play spin the bottle, but with whatever I've got in my bag. Keep spinning until somebody refuses their dare. When they refuse, they have to chug what's in the center. And what I've got in here is about 50 percent duds, 50 percent experimental nonsense. So you better be damn sure you want to take the risk of refusing."

There's pretty much no discussion. Two people leave, but the rest are either curious or intoxicated enough to stay. You pull out the first flask, swirl it to show off the dark blue sludge inside, and set it down in the center of the circle. The game begins.

By the time four drinks have been chugged, five people have left the game. One person headed home early, two people dragged a third to one of the bedrooms upstairs, and the fifth person went to the bathroom to most likely puke up the dud they'd gotten stuck with. There's still plenty of people left, sure, but your odds have gotten better, and you're a bit impatient. You rummage around in your bag for the next concoction, pulling out a vial of green liquid that fizzes when you set it down. Nobody else here knows what it does, of course, but you do. You made all these potions. You know exactly what all of them are. A quick spin later and it lands on the bastard son from before. Some god is absolutely smiling on you tonight.

"Dare you to tell us who your real father is."

It's a low blow. Normally it'd even get you a punch to the face. But you're giving that crooked smile as you say it, playing up the shots you took earlier, making it seem more like a light tease than an outright insult. And hey, you've been supplying the fun tonight, keeping everything going, and it'd be a shame to ruin things now. You can see the anger on his face for just a second, before he decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. A quick laugh and he grabs the bottle off the floor, brings it to his lips, and looks you in the eye as he downs it. You watch as his lashes flutter right before he swallows, then let everyone else focus on his face while you glance at the obvious bulge in his shorts, at the way it twitches while his adam's apple bobs. Good boy. Just a little more preparation before you get your prize.

You pull something else out of your pack, not even bothering to look, only paying enough attention to kiss one of your friends when you're dared to. Sorcerer boy seems to be having trouble staying upright, constantly swaying in your direction, glancing away whenever he realizes he's staring. At one point you gesture to a friend across the circle, and they bump into him hard enough to send him crashing to the ground. You make up some bullshit about it probably being the potion he drank, and he doesn't protest when you offer to watch over him until it runs it's course. There's bedrooms upstairs, soundproofed so as to get him away from the noise of the party, and he could probably use some rest, right?

You only really let yourself enjoy it once the door is locked. He'd never act like this normally, clinging to your shoulders and staring up at you with pupils blown wide open. He looks at you like you've hung the moon, instead of merely dosing him with the most potent roofie you could brew in your housing center's lab. He wriggles his hips as you pull down his basketball shorts, fumbles for the condom tucked in the waist and of his boxers. He probably thought he'd fuck some wasted chick tonight and laugh it up with his friends in the morning. He won't have much of a story to tell tomorrow, though. All he'll remember is what he feels tonight, not which person fucked him until he cried. Which is what you'll be doing. You grab the condom from his hands and toss it to the side, flip him onto his stomach before pulling your bag up onto the bed with you.

He's got a truly impressive dick, bigger than you expected now that it's hard. He whines as you get one hand around it, then let's out a truly pitiful yelp as you rub some freezing cold lotion into his shaft. He goes limp almost immediately, and you let go in order to pull the chastity cage out of the zippered pocket of your bag. Before the magic in his system can get him hard again, you slip the sound of it into his slit and then connect the cage portion to the ring behind his balls. The keys for these things are usually enchanted so you can find them if you've got the cage, a security precaution that is the whole reason you buy this model in the first place. right now it's working against you, until you figure out exactly where to put the key. He opens his mouth as soon as you tug his head up and back, and you shove your fingers down his throat until he swallows. He coughs for a second, swallows again when you command it, and now you're relatively certain the key is settled inside his stomach. Good enough.

Now's the time to get him prepped. You'd use the same ice-cold lotion as before, just to toy with him, but you're horny as hell and the extra time you'll have to spend isn't worth it. You grab your nice lube, the fancy stuff that'll help relax his muscles without numbing anything. It's got the added effect of cleaning him up as you shove the rim of it into his ass and pour a good portion into his intestines. There's a reason you spend extra money on the good stuff. He let's out a little groan, probably from the pain of his cock trying to harden and the uncomfortable feeling of the lube pouring into his hole and the way it tingles as it cleans him up. If you were feeling nice, you might rim him for a bit just to get him riled up a little more, but you're hard and you've been stressed lately and he makes such a pretty picture as he struggles to push himself up.

He nearly manages, too, before you shove two fingers into his ass without warning. He collapses forwards, and from the loud moan that the mattress can't quite stifle, it seems your prep has done it's work. You spend a little more time getting the third finger in, before hiking his hips up, taking your dick out, and thrusting inside in one smooth motion. You take a second, let him get antsy, and the moment he starts to beg, you start moving again. The pace you set it punishing, fast and hard and completely uncaring for his pleasure. The potion he drank will make sure he enjoys whatever you do, and you've basically been on edge all night waiting to get your dick in him, so it's not like it matters if you're gentle. Hell, from the sounds of it, he probably prefers it this way.

You let yourself think about how he's feeling as you rock your hips. He's probably never been overpowered during sex, and he's absolutely never bottomed before. When he wakes up, all he'll remember is loving it, and he'll probably stilk be aroused while the last of the drug burns through his system. Especially because the sound in his slit will preventing him from cumming properly all night. He sounds even more into it than you'd expected, too. Like he's enjoying this beyond what you're making him feel. Maybe you'll leave him with a present. Let him wake up, unable to even get an erection, the only pleasure available being from the dildo you'll leave in his ass. Maybe he'll wake up and fuck it into himself, desperate enough that he doesn't care how he got into this situation, just wanting to feel the same way he feels right now, with you pounding his ass and gripping his hips tight.

You cum with that thought on your mind. He's babbling nonsense that peters out into a groan as he feels you spill inside him. You savor the way he clenches around you for another moment, grabbing the cheapest dildo in your bag and pushing it into him as you pull out. From the way he rocks his hips, it's absolutely pressing against his prostate, the perfect torture with his dick still locked up. You pull his boxers back up, leaving his shorts around his ankles, then slip a small mirror onto the bedside, angling it just right before you leave. Tomorrow morning you'll use the matching one in your dorm to check in on your new project, and see exactly how he reacts upon waking up.