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ktheist · 4 years

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01 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

“then won’t you fuck me right now? i’m already wet for you.”

“not tonight,”

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 5k

➙ warnings. explicit content, reader coming onto seokjin who’s still hung up about how he watched over her and his little brother, taehyung, all these years, they’re six years apart, fingering, rimming.

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis. you’re a horny bunny yet kim seokjin always seems to manage to slide out of your grasps like a fox every time.

follow these two as they embark on a sexual adventure whilst keeping their relationship on the low from kim taehyung who may or may not just pull out the (your) best friend and (seokjin’s) brother card to call a time-off on them for good.

➙ note. if you’re used to reading my fics, this one is a little different. it focuses less on healing and more on getting it on w your best friend’s brother ykwim.

also, if you’re not okay with the age gap or the nature of their dynamic, keep it to yourself. block and don’t engage. much love x

“i watched you grow up!” seokjin shouts right in your face as he leans so far back against the counter, you thought his back would break.

“exactly,” a suggestive smirk curls on your lips as you lean your breasts against him, making sure the angle allows him to have an eyeful of your voluptuous slopes, “i’m grown now.”

but your words seem to have snapped him out of your wonderful spell, eyes going round with realization, “you’re nineteen!”

“and,” your finger teasingly travel up from his chest and a few inches above dip of his collarbone where the protrusion of his adam’s apple dips and stops at, “legal.”

“taehyung will kill me,” he reasons, large, secure hand wrapping around your wrist before he holds it away from his throat.

“only if he knows,” your free hand caresses the noticeable protrusion in his pants that’s pressing deliciously against your stomach.

seokjin’s mouth opens and closes twice but no words come out. and he’s not exactly making any moves to hold your teasing hand away from his boner.

“please, seokjin?” with a voice as sweet as angel’s and a tilt of head just in the right angle, you give him your best puppy eye, “i can’t take it anymore, after i saw how hung you were last month when i accidentally walked in on you in the bathroom... you’re all i think about - and you weren’t even hard back then!” you giggle when his hand finally captures yours when you try to pull down the zipper of his pants.

seokjin’s lush lips glisten from his tongue swiping out to wet them - you may not have spent as much time with him than with his brother but you know that whenever he does that little tongue thing and seem to stare off into nothing in particular - it’s because he’s heavily considering the possibility of delving into whatever that had his head occupied.

but before he can even say a word, the sound of keys jiggling from the other side of the door echoes into the space where you’d trapped him, in the middle of twirling around with a newly filled glass of water. you’d easily took the glass out of his hand, noting the way he arched a brow but silently watched as you placed it on the counter next to him before you boxed him between you and the counter.

“...that’s why i’m telling you! we need more cheese!” taehyung walks in with two bags of groceries, head craned towards his elder brother and middle child of the kims - namjoon who only shakes his head at the younger boy’s antics.

“we already bought three packets of cheese,” by the time namjoon’s pointing out the unbelievable bought, you’re already helping taehyung get the backs off his hands and placing them on the counter across where seokjin stands, front facing the counter, boner hidden underneath and hand gripping the poor glass until his knuckles turn white.

“oh my god, spicy carbonara ramen!” you squeal, finding out the signature light pink packet before setting that aside - you don’t trust anyone in this house to not steal your food unless you keep it safe in your room.

“you’re too obsessed with that thing,” taehyung asserts from next to you, sitting on one of the stools, eating out of the bag of cheese-flavored chips.

“uh-huh, maybe if seokjin or namjoon says that, i’d take it more seriously,” you don’t miss the way the eldest brother’s eyes sweeps up to you in an automatic response to his name.

to anyone else, your smile would look as if you’re sharing the same humor for teasing taehyung.

“uh, i’m like the boss of moderation,” taehyung waves a dismissive hand.

“the three packets of cheese in the fridge disagrees,” you twirl around, stealing the bag out of his grasp and leaning against the counter as you place one chip into your mouth.

you notice seokjin padding towards the hallway where the rooms are and somewhere at the end, lies the infamous bathroom you speak of that changed your life forever.

the kims and your family have known each other for years. having been next door neighbors, it’s almost inevitable that you’d be best friends with the same-age, truck toy-wielding boy. your parents didn’t need to worry when they didn’t find you in your room - they could just ring up the kims’ and ask if their daughter were over without telling them which, most of the time, was the case.

you didn’t get to hang out at school because you went to an all-girls school and taehyung and his brothers went to a co-ed school. seokjin was the kinder but still fun to hang out with brother but wasn’t around most times. he was already in high school when you were in elementary - had his own set of friends, joined robotics for the entirety of his high school career which made him immesurably busy. namjoon’s alright but he’s more quiet and also somehow managed to get you and taehyung to do your homeworks even though you initially came over to get away from your parents nagging you to do said homework.

you should’ve seen that diplomatic but persuasive nature of his would have landed him a job in one of the biggest firms in seoul. seokjin took on a much different route, choosing to work for samsung’s sister company that specialized in r&d-ing micro-everything that goes into the phone - which is also in seoul.

you and taehyung got into the same university but the different in majors yet again obstruct you from hanging out whenever you wanted to which was why you were almost always around in the weekend at the kim brothers’ shared apartment. that meant sacrificing your back, sleeping on the thinly layered futon taehyung bought for you on sale because he finally took pity on your sleeping on the couch and suffering from back pains every morning (they were exaggerated and taehyung knew but you guessed his guilty conscience got the best of him).

“what? so your girlfriend found out i’ve been crashing at your place and she wants you to choose between me and her?” you’re in front of the laptop (they don’t have a tv) in the living room, eating a bowl of ramen while taehyung has his cheesy burrito, the movie freezing in the screen before you turn to him with the most, you’d say, nasty frown.

“i mean - she just said a girl and a guy shouldn’t be sleeping together in a room regardless if one’s on the bed and the other’s on the floor,” taehyung’s avoiding your eyes and that’s how you know he’s actually debating following that snobbish little bitch’s instructions.

now, you don’t call just anyone a bitch but when you do, she’s on your ‘don’t fuck with’ list.

“do you see my girlfriend complaining about us sharing a room when me and her were dating?” you point out in a matter of factly.

“th-this and that are two different things!” taehyung slams the burrito onto the plate in his lap and slams said plate onto the coffee table.

you say slam but it’s really possibly just a tad bit aggressive than what taehyung’s like usually.

“how is it different?” the bowl of ramen clicks sharply when you place it on the coffee table too.

“i-it just is,” taehyung shrugs.

“i can’t believe you’re choosing some bimbo over me!” hand over your chest, you look at him dramatically, jaw hanging loose and eyes accusing.

“you’ve been sleeping in the living room before i got the futon. it’ll just be like one of those days, you know what i mean?” he shrugs - or at least attempts to look casual about it.

“look at this place! it’s not even big enough to fit the futon,” hands flailing, you gesture towards the minimal space on the floor.

“it’s fine, we can move the coffee table somewhere-” taehyung still tries but you’re already vexed-marching towards the hallway with your bowl of ramen without another word.

to just about anyone, it would’ve been obvious that you’ve had it with your best friend. but taehyung being taehyung is probably desensitized to your anger fits because this time, he does sound casual when he shouts, “what about the movie? can i continue watching without you?”

“do whatever you want!” you shout back before slamming the door behind you.

it takes you a moment to gather yourself before you notice the heat of a pair of eyes on you from all the way across the room. seokjin lies in bed with his laptop on his lap, pillows elevating his upper body. he’s staring at you with arched brows and cute naturally puckered lips.

“oh, don’t mind me. i just had a fight with taehyung and i can’t stand to see him right now,” you say, walking over to the vacant table and chair, “do you mind if i finish my ramen here?”

“be my guest,” before he even lifts his hand from the laptop to gesture towards said desk, you’re already plopping down with a “thanks!”

soon enough, the tapping sound of his keyboard fills the otherwise silent room. you don’t know how long time’s passed but you’ve already finished your ramen and scrolling through instagram on your phone when you see seokjin’s latest post.

he’s sitting in a cafe, dressed in a denim jacket over a white turtle neck with a cap casting shadow over his eyes. the angle he has head head lowered makes it all the more difficult to see his expression. only his soft kissable lips are visible.

so you double tap on the picture before going into gallery and scrolling through your own pic. there’s one with you standing in front of a brick wall, clad in all black, bringing out your colorful eye makeup in conjunction with pride month. the way you’re standing accentuates your curve, bringing attention to your hips after the beholder would be done with admiring the emotions in your eyes.

you have taehyung to thank for that picture but you’re not about to tag him for credit because you haven’t really forgave him. he’s on his phone since it dinged with a notification, probably from you liking his picture. but he hasn’t even looked at you once throughout the course of that and you posting a new picture.

relentless, open up snapchat, posing for a picture and making sure the frame captures the sight of your perked breasts as you stick the tip of your tongue out, smirking and biting on it ever so gently.

with a caption of ‘don’t have a bedroom to sleep in tonight, can i sleep in urs, ggukie-yah?’

it takes a second and a half for him to set his phone down... and go back to his laptop. the tapping sound continues without even the slightest hiccup to it - and he’s already opened your snap.

so with that, you stand up, pick up your bowl, making sure to stand in a way that makes your hips more curved and breasts more defined, “well, i guess i need to get out of here since taehyung’s jealous ass girlfriend doesn’t want me sleeping in his room.”

“hm?” his brows raises at that, “you’re leaving? but it’s night time.”

your dorm is at least half an hour away and it’s too expensive by grab - you usually go back on monday with taehyung since he has a car. but since you’re not on speaking terms, both you and seokjin know that even if the youngest brother offers to drive you back - you’d straight out refuse him. would probably even say something along the lines of your friendship being over and that he has no obligations to ensure you return safely. all of it’s gotta be dramatic though. maybe add in crocodile tears.

“i’d probably stay over at a friend’s at least he’ll lend me his bed to sleep in, unlike your woman-choosing brother.” when your hand is on the handle, seokjin stops you.

“this friend... is it ‘gukkie-yah’?” and there goes the fish biting the bait.

“how did you know?” you’d like to think your tilted head and confused, drawn together eyebrows are convincing enough.

“you mistook me for him... i got your snap which was probably meant for him,” he waves his darkened phone screen in the air.

“oh my god, you did?” hand over your mouth, you gasp, “i’m so sorry, that was embarrassing.”

“it’s chill,” he shrugs.

“anyways, i’ll text him on my way there. he usually has no qualms lending a helping hand to a friend in need,” and with that, you twist the doorknob.

“are you guys... close?” the question hits the air with a different kind of tone.

“kinda,” you say, face struggling to stay neutral when you see the way his eyes glint with a dangerous gleam, “we were fwb’s in freshman year before i started dating yoona... might continue where we left off.”

“cool,” is all he says before he goes back to his laptop, the incessant tapping sound echoing throughout the room. not even a glance is spared at you the whole time you slip out of the door and close it behind you.

taehyung’s eyes catch yours for the briefest second and before he can even say anything (he looks like he would’ve said hi like he didn’t just choose his girlfriend over you), you’re holding up a hand, “don’t talk to me. i’m still mad at you for choosing a girl over me.”

as soon as you’re done washing the dishes, you pad back towards the hallway, not even caring that taehyung’s not bothering to get up from his spot or pausing the movie to talk to you - guess you’re both in that stage where you know no matter how mad the other is, they’ll never be mad enough to break the friendship for forever.

either way, if your best friend already exiled you from his room and your crush doesn’t even care about you going over to another boy’s place, you might as well actually go over to said boy’s place.

at least jeongguk’s dick game is good.

“you’re really going?” seokjin’s sillhoutte leans against the door frame whilst you’re stuffing your clothes into a h&m’s paper bag.

“yeah, like, i’m done. i’m not gonna let that bimbo think she won,” you huff while in the middle of shoving your headphones on top of the neatly folded pile.

“you can sleep with me,” as soon as he said those words, you can see panic spread through his face as he quickly adds, “in my room- on the bed- i can sleep on the floor.”

“why can’t we sleep in the same bed?”

his eyes follow the sweater that you were in the middle of folding and discard, tossing it onto taehyung’s bed.

“you and taehyung don’t-” he starts but you’re convulsing in disgust.

“ew,” you manage to hold back your rising bile. so he stays quiet. clad in a creme colored sweater that makes him look cozy and warm, “why’d you think i never complained about sleeping on the couch or on the floor? it’s cause i don’t wanna catch his cooties!”

okay, so maybe that was a lie. taehyung may be cootie-less but you’ve never been the huggy-cuddly kind of best friends. for one, it’s because you both did believe that touching the opposite gender will actually render your whole body spotted with incurable diseases and before you know it, you both were allergic to physical contact with each other at least.

seokjin doesn’t seem to believe so, otherwise he wouldn’t be shaking his head and smiling to himself.

“does that mean we can sleep in the same bed?” you cross the short distance between the bed where you’re standing over and to the door, putting on your best puppy eye.

“sure, why not?” seokjin caves like he always does back then.

you squeal in delight, arms wrapping around his waist as you give him a big hug whilst he freezes under your touch but doesn’t tell you to go away, “eeep, thanks!”

it’s almost as if the incident at the kitchen this afternoon was just a dream.

taehyung has tried talking to you - you say talk because no word of apology slipped through his mouth - but you’re having none of it, hiding behind seokjin’s big bro influence, or so you’d like to call it, when he burst through his eldest brother’s door, demanding for his best friend, “i know she’s in here!”

“she is,” seokjin says simply and you’re about to shoot him accusatory looks before he chuckles, “but she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“____, come on, the squad’s all ready to play,” so that’s what he’s after.

over the years, you and taehyung have gathered your own like-minded people when it comes to video games. you don’t own a personal computer so your laptop suffers for it but the upside is that you get to bring it everywhere and it’s a pretty sturdy, gamer laptop.

“i’m playing here,” you say, laptop already set up on seokjin’s desk, headphones on.

“okay, whatever,” with a roll of his eyes, taehyung closes the door, leaving you and seokjin alone again.

and so it goes, you giving rapt attention to the game and the occasional comments spilling out of your lips when one of you make a dumb mistake or when one of you manage to kill off the enemy team’s avatar until you end up being killed yourself.

“what?” jeongguk - oh, he’s part of the squad - drags out as if he couldn’t belive his eyes.

“that’s cheating, bro,” taehyung’s voice rings in your earphone, “they literally ganged up on ___!”

“shit, shit, shit, shit, we’re gonna lose,” hoseok chants like a mantra.

“no, we’re not gonna lose,” you can just hear jimin rolling his eyes.

“bro, stop capping! we lost our fighter!” hoseok is at a point where he’s shrieking now.

“well, take however-long-it-takes-for-me-to-respawn, i guess,” you say in the middle of them arguing that they still have a hybrid fighter who is jeongguk.

either way, you’re already standing up, stretching your stayed-in-one-position-for-too-long limbs just in time for seokjin to walk in with a towelette draped over his head - you remember him using those cute little printed ones back then to dry his face after he brushed his teeth and cleansed his face. sure enough, he looks as fresh as the air that you’re about to take.

“you’re going to bed?” you ask the obvious.

“yeah, don’t worry, you don’t have to turn off the lights.”

“oh, don’t worry, i’m used to playing in the dark - my eyes are immune,” you wave a dismissive hand.

then he steals a glance at your laptop where your headphone lies next to it, emitting the lowest mumblings from your squad.

“you died?” he asserts - it’s obvious because otherwise, why would you even be talking to him.

“yeah, i think i’m gonna go wash my face now too.”

and with that, you’re out of the door, bursting in taehyung’s and shaking his shoulders to distract him as he reports the act of disturbance you’re comitting to the squad before you leave for the bathroom where your toiletries have made home in the cabinet along with taehyung’s belongings whilst namjoon and seokjin opts for placing theirs on either corners of the sink.

when you’re back, the room is already dark with your laptop being the only thing guiding your steps. there’s a lump underneath the blanket on the left side of the bed and another bright light casting sight on seokjin’s face as he scrolls through his phone.

he doesn’t bat an eye when you climb over, only looking up when it’s too late. thanks to his phone light, you can see how his eyes widen as he gazes at you with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

you just pecked him on his cheek.

“good night,” and with that, you bound over to your laptop, noting that you’ve already respawned and getting shit talked by your squad for your tardiness and almost being the cause that the whole team was going to lose.

but fifteen minutes in, you make a blunder that causes the whole team to lose, “alright, alright, i don’t think i’m in my zone right now. maybe i’ll hit the sack.”

a chorus of protests erupts through your headphone as jeongguk starts calling you out on uncanny ability to stay up all night playing.

“i’m hitting twenty!” you dramatically moan, “my body doesn’t work like it used to!”

the protests floods in one more time but by then, you’re already saying your goodbyes, making sure to give taehyung a warning not to come bursting into seokjin’s room because he’s already asleep and you don’t want to get kicked out for being the cause his little brother disrupted his sleep to find the best friend he’s housing after she got exiled.

“seokjin?” you whisper into the dark, climbing onto the bed for the second time of the night but this time, you’re on top of the human-sized lump.

when no answer comes from the man, you giggle, “please, i heard your phone shutting off when i was telling the boys i was going to bed- had one headphone over my ear and the other off.”

only then does the man underneath you move, his tone bearing a warning, “taehyung is right across the hallway.”

“shh,” you’re groping blindly, but lady luck deems that you find seokjin’s neck and then his plump lips with ease, “then we better be real quiet.”

unlike this morning, he isn’t as deflective. doesn’t tell you to stop even when you’re grinding directly over him. and boy, is he hung.

“you know,” he lets you pry the sheets off him, kicking it off his feet completely as you take a seat on his hardening self, breasts pressed against his chest as you slowly lay yourself on him, “i was hoping you’d fuck me when i was playing,” his heartbeat is deliciously erratic, “bend me over the desk and fuck me while i talk to my friends like nothing’s happening.”

seokjin’s teeth grazing over your thumb that you use to shush him comes off as a pleasant surprise. your only regret is not letting the laptop stay on so you’d at least be able to see what kind of expression he’d make.

“you might not be able to keep your moans in on your first time with me,” the unadulterated confidence reeking off him is enticing. so ever different from the kim seokjin who’d throw around dad jokes in the house whenever the four of you sit down to have dinner, “none of the ladies i slept with could.”

“is that a challenge?” you don’t pretend to hide your excited tone as you shoot up, eyes searching for a face but all you see is darkness.

but you feel him underneath. you smell his fresh minty breath. you hear his deep breaths. you feel him.

“touch me,” it doesn’t take long for you to find both of his hands after you took off your tanktop and bra, mainly because they’re caressing your ass. all you do is cup them over your exposed breasts.

his hands are larger than jeongguk’s. they swallow your voluptous breasts like they were quarter sized cups. but by god, does he know how to fondle a woman. he teases you, grazing his thumb over your erect nipples ever so gently that you crave for more. it’s no surprise that when his hand snakes behind you and pulls you down, you easily submit.

you’ve always wondered how his lips would feel on you - but you never thought the first thing they’d be on is your nipple. suckling and biting tenderly whilst his hand makes sure your other nipple is kept accompanied.

“ah!” a mixture of a moan and a shout escapes your lips when he bites a tad too hard. teasing. testing the waters.

“for a little minx, you’re quite sensitive,” his chuckle is as warm and endearing. too warm and endearing for someone who’s doing things he shouldn’t do to his precious little brother’s best friend.

“the boys dig it,” you remark, not knowing that it would spark a fire that burns so bright, it can only be put out by your silent suffering as he flips you two over.

“that’s right, you’ve only ever had boys,” it’s not a question and even if it is, you wouldn’t have the time to answer because you’re yelping in surprise at the coolness that licks your entrance, legs forced open by seokjin’s knee.

“and girls- ah!”

a lone, single fingerpad rims around your opening. and that’s all it takes for you to swallow thickly. breath coming out bated with anticipation. heartbeat racing.

“let’s see, if you don’t make a sound, i’ll fuck you while you play next time,” he slips the tip of his finger in as if testing you, hoping you’d moan right when he sets down his offer on the table. your bottom lip hurts from suddenly forcing your teeth on it but that’s a small price to pay especially when you haven’t heard of the second half of the deal, “if you do make a sound, we stop this whole thing - no more teasing, no more seemingly innocent little gestures.”

“alright, bet,” that might’ve come off a little prickly, but it’s all seokjin’s fault! if he wasn’t hung like a horse, you would’ve taken one speculative glance and left him to his own devices!

the sweet chuckle echoing off the walls is disarming. so much so, when he slips one digit into you, your back arches and you’re biting into the pillow to stop a moan from escaping.

“is that a moan i hear? since we just started, i’ll let you off the hook,” there it is again, that disarming trickle of hymn as he slips in and out of you, loosening you up for something much, much bigger.

“it was a cough, god damn it,” you barely manage to get that out before you’re shoving your curled index finger into your mouth when he starts inserting two fingers inside without so much as a warning.

“that’s cheating!” you whine but your legs spread wider anyway.

“all is fair in war and sex,” he comments, free hand pinning your hips down on the bed before he starts thrusting his digits faster, the squelching sound of your juices reverberating against the walls - you fear that even without your moans, the two other brothers that are walls apart would’ve heard and come knocking on seokjin’s door.

along with the fear comes the electrifying euphoric sensation that courses from the tip of your toes to your core and all over your body. you remember clawing at seokjin’s hand that’s pinning you down because of how unbearably rapturous he’s making you feel. you remember his hand not budging a single inch from your meek attempts. you remember trying to bring your legs together but something’s wedged in between them. you remember tears pricking your eyes as the background slowly fades - taehyung’s presence in the room across from where you are, the possibility of namjoon coming back and walking down the hallway right as your back arches upwards and toes curling inwards as sparks course through your veins.

when your senses come back, seokjin’s in the middle of complimenting your hardwork, if “not bad” is even plausibly a praise. his fingers are still inside you, unmoving, possibly waiting for you to come down from your pleasured state.

“did i pass?” you might have been a little too elated.

“surprisingly,” he affirms, that beautiful sound of chuckles spilling out of his mouth.

“then won’t you fuck me right now? i’m already wet for you,” the last part, you say with a tinge of spoiled-ness.

“not tonight,” he says, before instructing you to lift up your head and slipping his shirt over it. you know it’s his because his heat still lingers when you slip your arms through the arm holes, cheeks hot as you forearm brushes against a nude chest as he pulls the sheets up over you.

but you being you, manage to ruin the moment with your, “why not?”

seokjin hums, that sound alone enough to make your heart shake with a sort of emotion that you can’t pinpoint, “like taehyung says - things are better in moderation.”

“he never said that,” you plainly dispute.

“well,” a kiss lands on the side of your head and an arm drapes over your stomach, just above the area where he used the same hand attached to that arm to pin you down as he fingered you, “let’s just say it’s my way of keeping you from going back to that ggukie-guy.”

you gasp into the dark, “are you jealous?!”

“i sure am,” he admits, a bit too willingly - as if it’s a known fact.

“oh,” you say, lost for words becase - “no one really admits that they are, not the people i’ve been with at least.”

“that’s cause you never been with a man... or woman. but i’d say being with a man - me - is better. i’ll show you what you’re missing out on,” he shushes you up with a “shhh” and a hand on your jaw to turn you towards him.

a pair of the softest lips meets yours and whatever retort you’re thinking up of is already out of the window.

note. this is different than what i’m used to writing so i’ll probably need some help!! i’m planning to update this from time to time with scenarios like ‘where he picks you up from your uni’ or ‘wherein he takes you shopping’ - idk djashdsakj send in suggestions that you think will fit oc and seokjin’s dynamic and i’ll incorporate them for the upcoming parts in their (nsfw) adventures to realizing their feelings for each other while also sneaking around behind taehyung’s back! it’s cool if you don’t though! but heads up, my smut writing skills aren’t as good so you’ll probably see more sexy times / implied smut most of the time lol

either way, hope yall enjoyed this!

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justasimptm · 3 years

Text

The Bride C5

The next few weeks pass by in a blur, mother, as promised, got me new blades, coated with something special she said he won’t be able to control. I get the distinct feeling of eyes on me in that time, but every time I look, there’s nobody around. Shaking off the feeling as paranoia I decide it’s time to get ready for the day, calling in one of the maids to help me dress. The poor girl is quaking in her boots and I end up doing half the work myself, from tightening my corset to fixing the pins in my hair that she carelessly dug into my skull. The unfortunate side of having to do most of it myself, is that my corset doesn’t quite where it’s supposed to be, it's tight enough to stay on but still feels loose, the straps not quite in the right spot, the pins holding my hair back aren’t stable enough.

I know she tried, but with each time she went to fix something she just made it worse and I ended up yelling at her. Telling her to get out and to go be useless somewhere else. She squeaked like a frightened mouse and all but sprinted from the room, leaving the door wide open in her wake. I’m about to call for another maid when Daniela swarms in-quite literally too. She’s already laughing as she reforms, her arms crossed, and a condescending smirk on her face.

“Oh my, you look like someone ran you over. That’s embarrassing,” She chuckles, moving closer to me to assess the damage. She lifts her hand to prod at something she sees, but I’m quick to smack her hand away. Rolling her eyes at my reaction she steps back, turning around and skimming my room.

“What do you want, Daniela?” I snap, standing up and moving to block her path as she starts towards my bookshelf. She had zeroed in on our old family album, something she hadn’t seen before, and something I wasn’t about to let her defile. My mother might call her ‘daughter’ but she would never truly be a Dimitrescu, so she has no reason to look at things pertaining to us. She chuffs quietly, narrowing her eyes at me before they dart back to the album.

“Mother told me to let you know that Mother Miranda wants you to meet her at the church. Apparently there’s been progress.” My stomach drops at her words. Progress? What could she need me for if it’s working? Why is it working? “And she wants you now, so you have to go, looking like that. Have fun!” She cackles, swarming and flying from the room. I curse loudly, glancing at myself in the mirror. I look like a mess, and there’s no time to fix it. Grabbing a shawl I throw it around my shoulder, tying it above my chest, which helps hide most of the damage. There’s definitely not enough time to fix my hair, but as quick as I can I pull out some of the pins, dropping them onto my vanity and storming from the room.

I would swarm there, but it won’t take long to walk it and hopefully that’ll give me time to get somewhat presentable. I don’t see my mother or any of the others on my way out, a small relief which ends up ending abruptly when I reach the front gates and I hear a loud snort. I spin so fast I genuinely trip, twisting my ankle and dropping like a rock with a sharp gasp. The force of the ground jolts me, leaving me briefly dazed as I wonder how the hell I just managed to do that. Boisterous laughter tears me from my thoughts and my eyes snap up, locking on the source. And of course, it’s Heisenberg, damn near doubled over. My cheeks warm, and it takes everything in me to force my embarrassment down as I shove myself back up, brushing off my dress and returning to trying to fix myself.

“What are you doing here, Heisenberg? My mother isn’t expecting you and I doubt she’ll be pleased finding out you were lurking on our property without invitation.�� I sneer, twisting my hands around as I try to find the angle to get my hair pin to stay without slipping, which is far more difficult without a mirror, might I add. He reaches up to his face, pulling his dark colored glasses off and wiping fake tears from his eyes before sliding them back into place. The glimpse of his full face unobstructed surprises me, he always keeps those glasses on, always hides his eyes from us, like they’re the lock to his secrets. Suddenly it feels like my hair pin is moving itself, angle changing midpush, stopping before I finish moving it but effectively keeping my hair back from my face. Did he just-

“You look like you’re struggling a bit there, darlin’.” He smirks, crossing his arms, “I can help with that.” As he continues I feel the metal ends of my corset laces move, the steel boning tighten and the ties pulling it into place, nearly knocking the wind from my lungs from the shock of it. It takes seconds for the knots to be put back into the correct place, everything now fitting the way it should. I open my mouth to yell at him, feeling both defiled and somehow comfortable, but he cuts me off before I get the chance to be worked up. “Look, sweetheart. You can tell me all you want that I had no right to do that, whatever. I was just saving you some embarrassment. Mother Miranda sent me up to walk you to the church. Direct quote, ‘since those lycans are your responsibility, go fetch her and escort her to our meeting so they don’t hurt her, we will finish our discussion when you both return.’” My jaw drops slightly, Daniela didn’t tell me he was going to be at the meeting, and she definitely knew. Of course she didn’t tell me, why would she miss an opportunity to make me look like an idiot. Straightening my back I nod my head at him, dropping my hands back down to my sides.

“Alright. Let’s go then,” I say, starting towards the church, I barely get a step before I’m stopped, not by his words but by the boning in my corset, which essentially drags me backwards towards his side. I gasp in shock at his actions, unable to stop my movements as he pulls me. He holds me still a few feet from him, looking me up and down.

“What do you say to me for helping you?” He growls, grinning ever so slightly. Frustration drops over me like a wave as I seethe at him. The audacity of this man to feel he’s entitled to not only adjust my clothing without my permission, but to then demand praise for it? A small part of me is amazed at how he’s able to keep me from moving, even though he only has a hold over my torso. Sensing my struggle he steps closer to me, nearly able to feel his breath on my cheek. “Come on now, it’s not that hard.” My lips turned down into a sneer for a split second before I conceded.

“Thank you for helping me, now let me go.” I spit, anger nearly boiling, mixed with the unsettling feeling that he can literally hold me still without even touching me. I’ll have to get a corset with different boning. His smile is filled with ego, so much so that it’s a wonder he hasn't choked on it yet, and he releases his telepathic grasp on me.

“That’s much better, I’m glad to see your mother taught you manners, one less thing for me to do.” With that closing statement he backs up a pace before starting down the path towards the decrepit church. “Keep up, sweetheart.”

Heisenberg’s POV

Seeing her scrambling out of that fortress, looking equally frazzled and nervous, part of me is alarmingly amused but also endeared. The stormy glare she fires at me only makes both parts grow warmly. Once she accepts that I’m going to help her and she stops lying, I think she and I will get along swell. The small gasps she lets out as I fix the pin in her hair and tighten her corset send a familiar but long forgotten spike up my spine. I never expected to have that reaction to someone, not after I was made into this, let alone her. Not that bitch’s daughter. But nonetheless, somehow it was true.

Dragging her close to me, watching her cheeks flush despite the fact she’s clearly trying to force it down. Still she thanks me, through gritted teeth and layers of disgust and emotion. A feeling of smug satisfaction swirls in my chest as I release her, watching her droop slightly, seemingly both calmer and slightly disappointed.

@foggyturtleknightangel

#Karl Heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #re8 #re village #lady dimitrescu

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simtanico · 3 years

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Hi! I don't know if this is an annoying/difficult question, sorry if it is, but do you have any advice at all for modelling sims based off real people? Your sims are SO crazy good. When I try to make them they end up looking... eh... Vaguely like the person? But there's a huge gap between that and some kind of 'spark' some simmers seem to manage to capture.

Hello! Definitely not annoying. Difficult, as in how difficult it is to answer? Maybe. I'm gonna go off on a couple of tangents. But I'm gonna try my best to explain the process. Which isn't really much of one sorry.

There's a handful of tutorials and tips out there regarding reference photos and like... proportions and all that so I won't cover that.

I use that as a general guide of course, but mostly I just save some photos of the person at various angles and focus on one feature or two at a time. Literally going back and forth between reference photo and my game. I think if you try to get everything at the same time, it really makes it easy to get frustrated with whatever your sim looks like at the moment. Making sims in general is a combination of a LOT of things depending on your style.

I can point out ALL the flaws with my sims based on real people. In my experience, it’s about getting the defining features of a person close enough to the real thing so that it resembles them. I don't think you need a complete copy to get the point across, however i do think some people and features are harder to emulate than others. I've been working on some sims for YEARS, and they still don't work out lol

and take a look at this progression on my sim based on Z4ne H0ltz starting back in 2015!

that first screenshot:

Personally, I get a little lost if I work on a sim too much all at once. I find some time away makes me less tired and frustrated. Just pace yourself :)

Also if you need any help, shoot me a message here or on discord. I promise I don't judge or anything.. it's sims who cares lol

TO START...

I suggest starting with the head and its shape. Starting off with a game-generated sim, the first slider I get to is head width. It's usually too dang wide for my tastes. And then adjusting the general position of the the features. You can always change things later, so you don't have to know exactly what you're going to do, but as I've mentioned before, sculpting sims up in CAS is just practice with sliders! Also in the long run, you may want to use Pu+Chi House's Smooth Face Normals slider! I attempt to explain and show what it does here. I've uploaded the slider here: https://simfileshare.net/download/984204/

This is gonna be a doozy sorry in advance if the read more doesn't work

SLIDERS SLIDERS SLIDERS

Big sliders like Pu+Chi House’s face shape sliders dramatically change the face shape, and it could save you a lot of time! I highly suggest using these to get rid of the weird large jaw sims can get.

Play with different sliders and how they interact with one another! Example: jaw width and Cheek Fullness affect the same area. if you need a wide jaw and don’t want cheek distortion, you can use cheek fullness, lower the jaw width slider and then edit the cheekbones from there

Knowing what sliders move what and how it can work to your advantage is key! I cover this in my reply post about noses.

For visual reference:

I start out with my nose but I want the nostrils to sit further on the outside

so i go in and use the nose width slider and raise it to widen the lower nose:

Then lower the nostril scale slider

Comparison:

as you can see, i kind of achieved what I wanted, but also widened the nose tip too! Welp, that takes another slider I have, Tip Width. And I'll adjust that accordingly! It's really just a matter of what you're going for and what you're going to have to compensate for as a result!

That said, our community has made some awesome sliders that open up so many possibilities and even eliminate the need to do that multi-slider tango. I wouldn't even know where to begin (wish I wanted to make videos because I could talk for an hour about sliders)

For example @pitheinfinite made sliders that can make sims look better and more realistic, I'm jealous at what they've achieved!

They have their Inner Corner to Nose slider that moves an area of the sim's face hat make eyebags and the shadows and lines appear farther out from the inner eye. It saves you from having to use cheek sliders to mimic the effect and thus ruining the face shape you have going

It's truly an INDISPENSABLE slider. One of many!

Since I make sliders, I usually just make some to specifically fix whatever issue I'm having. Granted they're made with general function in mind, which makes my cheater-y way of making things happen more useful in the future. I have about 50 experimental unfinished sliders in my game and can tell you that all my current sims use them for some reason or other. So I'm not working with nothing, I guess?

EYE SPY 👁

The best way to really get nice accurate looking sims is the eyes.

Pay attention to the slant of the eye, the shape and position of the upper and lower eyelids. you can use the game’s Eyelid Height slider, and AWT’s Eyelid width and height sliders (and many more)

and especially where the iris (green) sits relative to the eyelid. getting that shape and eyeball positioned correctly really makes a HUGE difference

I do suggest Bloom’s Eye slider (left and right) that rotate the eyes left and right. That along with their Lazy eye sliders can give your sims a less symmetric face and position the eyes to be FAR more accurate and realistic than the default.

I also recommend their vertical sliders (Eye lift or drop) to help with eye positioning.

I can't stress the importance of the right contacts or eyes for your sims. Of course it all depends on how you make your sims's eyes and all that. Take the last sim i posted about. It took forever and a half to find the right contacts that didn't need severe or intense editing to capture the same vibe the person he's based on. The problem is pretty persistent for me, and I am just speaking for myself when I say this is necessary. Iris size, shading, recolorability, detail, catch lights, and pupil position are things to consider for your play style and preferences.

In addition to seeing what eyes will do the trick, I do edit the catch lights in the screenshots to give the eyes a different emotion or look. (I use defaults that get rid of the game-generated catch lights, and supernatural eye glow.) It's nice when that's all it is and I don't have to go in and photoshop things in and out to make them look human lmao

Perfect, schmerfect

And just know that as long as you have the same vibe or look going on it doesn't need to be perfect! Things will evolve over time, and you can change and perfect things as you go along, but close is better than trying to achieve an exact replica. We are working with the limitations of sliders and the optimized meshes they work on! So yeah there might be jagged bits or the profile might not exactly match and some things might not be accurate, but that's okay! Considering what sims look like at their default, you should be proud! I use the same mf eyebrows on all my sims basically and I tell myself they're just placeholders (yeah, right), but I manage to make them work with what I have!

Sliders, Makeup, and Skins, oh my!

a good base skin is critical, but not the end of the world if you pick the wrong one. They determine kind of definition and types of features highlighted on a sim 100000% and you might lose a feature you like or dislike when you change them! Feel free to switch up between skins you have to find the best fit.

Makeup can be a game-changer though!!! Any details you can add and help make your sim look the most like the person you're basing them off can go MILES.

In some cases, I've actually gotten really interesting results trying to get my sculpt as close as possible to real life references so the makeup makes a difference but don't define the features by themselves. Still, though, I utilize makeup up a LOT. [remember that if you use Nraas, you can layer makeup. Right-clicking makeup will also remove it if it's applied :)]

Here's the last sim i posted about when removing makeup:

no nosemasks really replicates the face-claim's nose (too shiny at the lower part) but it'll do 🤷‍♀️

Freckles, eyebags, highlighters, face shadows, pores, nosemasks, etc are all great!!

The way you move your sliders WILL effect how these look, so don't rely on makeup that adds super-specific detail or goes over an area you know is a jumbled mess because of sliders!

I do have a mess of recommendations and wcifs for skins and makeup. replies tag | wcif tag

[also I love compiling wcif cc lists for my sims it's great]

Finally, I appreciate your comment about my sims, mainly because I know they're not ever really exact copies or as close as I want to be to their real life counterparts, so thanks!! I've seen fellow simmers get really good results without messing as much as I do and I love when people can make really good maxis match likenesses because it's just so damn cool! It's truly a talent. I'm not one of those lucky few, but I like to try my way at it anyway. After what feels like some good progress I'll post a pic here. Even after doing this forever I don't feel like I'm an expert or can get good results in a shorter amount of time, but it's just fun to see the progression (or regression) of how my sims look.

#long post #replies #no tutorials just rambling and vibes~~~~

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starryseung · 4 years

Text

bang chan + smut

☾

requested; nope! word count; 1.5k warnings; fingering, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex

you know you’ve met hands with the devil himself when you signed those blood red papers with bright gold ink, the pen almost trembling between your fingers. demon!chan knew the thousand thoughts littered around your mind, but chose to keep quiet as he smirked through it all, hands clasped one above the other behind him.

you sigh and drop the pen next to the papers, looking up and around to see everything slowly morph into darkness; blood, fire, everywhere. your television and refrigerator are replaced by bright lava, spluttering everywhere. the smell of a rotten something lingers in the air —you can’t pinpoint if its eggs or a dead body— and looking up, you notice how your roof is replaced by the dark night sky filled with red and black dragons which was, just a mere minutes ago, spring blue sky with pigeons flying in peace.

“so, uh, i’ve signed the papers—”

“very well, y/n!” chan exclaims, holding the delicate pages carefully between his fingers as he moves close behind you. the atmosphere was already hot, but chan's breath dancing on your neck was hotter, the faint smell of chocolate and vanilla from him filling your lungs.

“so the deal is sealed. let me do the honours of walking you to you— my apologies, our room; may i?” he cocks an eyebrow, smirk never leaving his lips. he extends his hand forward for you to take, but you’re too full-of-ego to hold it, walking right past him.

that’s when chan knew he hadn’t gone wrong with his choice of picking you. he had hundreds of desperate females trying to get onto his good side, doing anything to please him. there were ladies trying to impress him, flaunting out of their homes to sign the ‘devil’s contract’ in a tight black dress, some even going as far as wearing red heels and devil horns. chan never liked those kinds of women; they were just a trial-and-error method to reach out to you — the real win. and now that you were finally wrapped around his little finger, he didn’t mind how you behaved around with him; he knew he had you all for himself.

he meandered close behind you, nudging you when you were going off the track to his room. as you went closer and closer to his room, the rotting smell started fading away, replaced by the intoxicating fragrance of just chan. the sweet vanilla and chocolate musk dominated your senses, almost as if you were under a spell. you didn’t realize when chan walked you into a dimly lit chamber, the interior looking all-too-familiar to your room. you take note of your neatly stacked clothes in one corner of the room; ‘wow, this is really serious business, huh?’ you think, licking your lips as you slowly feel yourself automatically comfortable in the room.

“yeah babygirl, it’s all serious business once you’re in the devil’s room,” chan chuckles, his expression morphing into a serious one, quirking his eyebrows as he leans closer to grab you by the waist, kissing you.

you expect the kiss to be rough, full of lust, blood and greed; but surprisingly chan went at just the pace you wanted. not too fast, not too slow, just simply perfect. his tongue pushes into your mouth fluidly and right at that moment, chan tugs you to fall onto the bed, your back cushioned by the soft duvet underneath.

chan lies on top of you, soft lips abandoning yours as he moves lower to your jaw, bringing the skin between his slightly pointed teeth to softly nibble at it. you’re too sensitive at this point, almost down to tears when he grinds down on your clothed core with his bulge, pressure on your neck overwhelming you to the point your vision is clouded. the moan bubbling up your throat makes chan smirk against your skin, your grip in his hair tightening further.

“can i,” he kisses a light pink spot which’ll soon turn dark purple, “continue with this?” he asks ever-so-quietly, you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for his sudden soft eyes staring down at yours.

you’ve signed the devil’s contract, goddamn it. why was he asking you that? wasn’t signing the contract already enough of a sign that you desperately wanted him to fuck the living daylights out of you?

your small trail of thoughts is interrupted by chan attacking your shoulders, swiftly unbuttoning your white shirt as he moved lower and lower to cup your breasts in his hands. he fondled with your clothed nubs, grazing the pads of his thumb over your nipples to drag another moan out of you.

“babygirl wants me to fuck the living daylights out of her?” he mocks, smiling against your shoulder. it hits you almost like a freight train when you realize he can listen to your mind, and you’re trying to scramble for your thoughts to come together, but it’s nearly impossible when chan can listen to anything you’re thinking about.

a soft giggle is heard, before he moves his plump lips lower and lower until he’s facing the waistband of your jeans. pulling them harshly so they’re off, he admires your squirming form under him, and he trails a finger up your thighs and right against your clothed heat, circling where your folds should be.

a choked moan leaves your lips and you arch your back just the slightest, chan's fingers rubbing slow circles on your covered cunt. he grins at how the fabric gets wetter and wetter, and he brings them aside to look at your glistening pussy, smirking before licking a thick strip from the base above; making you involuntarily shudder under him.

he brings a hand around your waist to hold you down, soft lips rubbing on your clit. his tongue darts out and pushes against the bundle of nerves, and you can all but clutch the soft sheets beneath you tighter, sucking in the warm air of the room. he lazily laps his tongue and lips against your dripping heat, humming occasionally to run shivers up your spine.

he pushes a finger between your folds, letting out a guttural groan against you as you clench around his appendage. your juices easily coat his digit as he thrusts them inside your hole, curling his finger to brush over your sweet spot deliciously. needless to say, you’re a moaning mess under him, a thin layer of sweat giving you a brighter sheen under the dim lights of the room. without wasting time, he inserts a second finger, thrusting it faster in you as you keep fidgeting under him, wanting more.

his fingers gain momentum, the tips pressing at your sweet spots every time he pushes them knuckles deep. a particular flick of his tongue against your clit paired with his fingers perfectly stretching you out made you arch your back, fingers almost tearing the sheets to shreds as you come around him, splotches of red and black clouding your vision.

but chan doesn’t stop, pushing a third finger in as you clench around him tighter, yelping as the stretch increases, setting a burning pit in your core. he thrusts them slowly, and deep down you know you can’t take it any further, but just then chan pulls out his fingers with a pop, getting onto his knees. you aren’t given enough time to register the sudden halt of his movements, when chan's length prods at your slit, making the air knock out of your lungs.

you inhale sharply when his thick length pushes in, movements steady as his hands wrap tight around your waist. you’ve had sex before, but chan's cock filled you up to the brim, as if it was up to your stomach.

your pussy clenches around him, perfectly squeezing his length in a way he had never experienced before. he groans, losing the last threads keeping together his resolve as he snaps his hips into you. you’re trying your hardest to not scream, but all attempts are thrown out the door when the demon brings your legs a tad bit higher, the angle making him reach deeper into you.

you know you’re so close you can taste it, but voicing it out isn’t an option when all you can get out is babbles and moans. luckily chan's there to help you out, bringing his fingers down to rub circles on your clit, and just the slightest pressure has you coming around his length, clenching around him uncontrollably.

chan doesn’t take much longer either, thrusting into you twice, thrice, before spilling his seed in you, such that even after he’s pulled out, you’re left feeling full.

“babygirl’s okay?” he questions quietly, taking note of how exhausted you were as you tried catching your breath. you nodded slowly and he smiled, grazing his thumb over your temples and down your cheeks. you keen into his warm touch, the faint fragrance of chocolate and vanilla still lingering even under the smell of sweat and cum.

he plops down next you, bringing the covers up to your chin before snuggling next to you under them. you remember he had told you once how he was a softy under his demonic self but you always failed to believe him, until now.

you could now only hope; signing this contract wasn’t going to take a toll on you.

—

a/n; this, for some reason, took me 3 days to finish :’) i hope it was worth the wait im so sorry sjhdjshdjs

taglist; @joengni @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan (message me if you want to be added!)

#stayverse #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz smut #skz #bang chan smut #chan smut #stray kids chan smut #skz chan smut #bang chan #chan #skz chan #skz bang chan smut #stray kids bang chan smut #stray kids chan #smut #mia.moon

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sapphicrowena · 4 years

Text

through the cold i’ll find my way back to you

15x18 coda, 1.7k. read on ao3

The Empty isn't empty.

There's the entity itself, of course, smiling wickedly with the face of a friend lost long ago.

There's Billie, not dead but dying, her every breath a grimace. Her skin is mottled and horrid, and everything about her looks shabbier and more ragged in the not-light of this place.

And there's Castiel.

Castiel, released from the sickly cold grasp that dragged him here, on his knees in defeat and relief in equal measure. Castiel, an Angel fallen in more ways than one, already feeling the tide of his oft-felt misery washing over the joy in his chest but not letting it sink. Castiel, free of the burden he has been all too glad to carry for the last decade.

The Empty looks at him from a throne, and says with Meg’s voice, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I disagree,” Castiel says, surprised to find he still has a voice. “I think I should’ve done it years ago.”

The relief borders on euphoric. It’s every hunt-gone-sideways-but-still-survived rolled into one, every life saved, every battered and bruised word of prayer heard in the early hours of the morning. It’s a secret held for twelve years and released at the time it would do the most good for the world.

“There’s no way out of this one,” the Empty promises.

“I know,” Castiel says, and he believes it. He’s not sure he wants a way out. He’s done his part.

“Are you going to be quiet this time?”

This is a difficult question to answer. For the first time, he feels no urge to argue. There is no survival instinct here. He knows he should, based on track record, be looking for a way out, at the very least. But he feels a kind of serenity in this moment, this afterglow of sorts, that distracts the part of him that would pick a fight in any other circumstance.

He stands. He almost wipes at his knees, out of habit, before remembering that there’s nothing here to dirty them. There’s nothing here at all.

“I think,” he says, “I just might.”

The Empty says nothing, eyes cold and skeptical, and he walks away.

He finds himself at Billie’s side. She has nothing to prop herself up against, so she is on her back, pitiful and ruined, her scythe at her side. Castiel stares at it, and can’t help but wish she had left it behind. A weapon like that could be a real advantage in the fight to come.

“If you’ve come to gloat,” Billie says, pain tracing the lines of her face, “you can save it.”

“In a way,” Castiel says, and he doesn’t have any bitterness or ill will to give her, “I owe you a thank you.”

He should hate her. He should want to sit and watch her draw her last aching breaths. After everything she’s done - to him, to Dean, to the rest of his patchwork little family - she surely deserves what she’s getting.

But he hears his own voice in his ears, hears himself say I love you and mean it in every possible way, and he can’t. He can’t hate her, because like it or not, she gave him that push. He will never see Dean again, and he can hate her for that, but he will make peace with that, eventually.

He’ll have enough time here to make peace with a lot of things.

The Empty isn’t empty.

There’s Billie’s scythe, unmoved from the place it lay next to her before she died and disappeared. She took a long time to go, but she went, and that’s all she had to leave behind.

There’s the Empty, still using Meg’s face. Still awake. Still asking for some quiet.

And there’s Castiel, without a word past his lips since the soft, “Oh,” that left him when Billie vanished, just walking. He doesn’t have a destination, because there are no destinations here, and he doesn’t know if it counts as a journey without one, but he walks.

He doesn’t stop. He could be moving in place for all he knows, nothing but void in all directions, but it doesn’t deter him. He walks and walks and walks, footsteps echoing off nothing, and he thinks. There’s not much else to do.

He thinks of home, of earth, and of the battle that might be still waiting to happen or already come and gone. He thinks of Sam and Jack and the world he’s left behind. He thinks of the Impala and how she purrs like a lioness and smiles like a shark.

Mostly, he thinks of Dean, but that’s nothing new. He would think of Dean even if he were dead and disappeared like Billie. He would think of Dean even if he were standing in front of him.

The Empty finds him, occasionally, or he finds it, or they find each other.

“Aren’t you tired?” it asks. From anyone else, those words might be comforting or empathetic.

In truth, Castiel is tired. He’s been tired for years. But he can’t - if he stops, he knows it’ll be for good. And he isn’t ready for that. He can’t let go yet. He’s not sure what it is he’s holding onto, but he knows it’ll be gone forever if he stops.

“No,” he says.

He keeps walking.

The Empty isn’t empty.

There’s the quiet, boundless and permanent, a heavy blanket that presses in from every angle.

There’s the Empty, who hasn’t paid a visit in a long time, but still lurks at the not-edges of not-space.

And there’s Castiel, no longer walking. No longer thinking. Very close to no longer being anything at all.

The Empty isn’t empty.

There’s the quiet, shattered and jagged.

There’s Castiel, awake, and the Empty, furious.

And there’s Jack.

He is tattered and frayed and glowing like a pyre. He calls out, in a voice made of urgency, “Castiel?”

Castiel stands - he doesn’t remember lying down, or sitting up - and Jack’s eyes, burning with white light, find him. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they last saw each other, but Jack doesn’t look any different to how Castiel remembers him - apart from, of course, the power that crackles at his fingertips and shines from his pores.

“How are you here?” Castiel asks. He stumbles forward, clumsy and forgetful, toward the sun of a boy before him. “This can’t -”

“We won. I’m here to take you home,” Jack says. His voice sounds like a thousand. Then, softer, as Castiel approaches him, “It’s over. It’s done, Cas, we won.”

The halo of light around Jack doesn’t burn like Castiel thinks it ought to. Jack folds into him, at once ethereal and impossibly human, and Castiel remembers what he’s been missing, all this time on his own.

Over Jack’s shoulder, Castiel sees the Empty, and his blood runs cold.

Jack lets him go and turns to face it, his shoulders square and confident. His jaw sets with a determination he could only have learned from the Winchesters. The kind of determination that says no, you move.

The kind of determination that Castiel fell from Heaven to learn for himself.

“Jack -” he warns. He can’t read the expression on the Empty’s stolen face.

There is a long moment of silence as they size each other up, a cosmic ancient and a boy-shaped god.

Then, the Empty speaks. It says: “You can have him. I want to sleep.”

Jack lays a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel closes his eyes.

The bunker library isn’t empty.

There’s one table buried in a mountain of books, another cluttered with bowls and candles and bones, and chairs toppled on their sides.

There’s a small crowd of onlookers, some cowering behind the shelves. Two throwing themselves forward into the action. One going farther than the other, looking like he hasn’t slept in a year.

And there’s Castiel, in love with him all over again.

Dean Winchester comes to a stop a foot away from Castiel. He stands there, his face a swirling, unsure mix of hesitation and relief and astonishment, and doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t speak for so long that Castiel notices the quiet isn’t just him. It’s everywhere. The room holds its breath, and Castiel holds his too, until the novelty of having breath to hold wears off and he can’t do it anymore.

He says, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s face splits into a watery grin. “Hey, Cas,” he says, and crushes him in a hug that pushes all the air out of his lungs.

Castiel’s hands land at Dean’s shoulder blades, snaking up his back to make a home out of rough fabric bunched between his fingers. His eyes close, and Dean holds him tighter, and there is nothing else in the world but this.

Into Castiel’s shoulder, where only he can hear, Dean says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not saying it back.”

The words sound in Castiel’s ears and in his head. He doesn’t know if the prayer is intentional, but he feels that pull of longing and decides it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, just this.

“Dean, you don’t -”

“No,” Dean says, and he pulls back far enough that Castiel can look him in the eye. “I should have said it back. I should have said it - I should’ve said something a damn long time ago.”

There are hands on Castiel’s face. They’re calloused and hard from a life lived too unfairly, but they’re gentle as they hold him. Tender to match the eyes Castiel knows so well.

“You said - you said it was something you knew you couldn’t have,” Dean whispers. “But, Cas, you’ve had me. You’ve always had me. Ever since - god, who cares since when? You have me. I have been yours.”

The bunker library isn’t empty, but when Dean kisses him, slow and soft and worshipful, it may as well be.

“I thought -” Castiel says, when they part. “I thought you didn’t - I thought you couldn’t -”

Dean smiles, bashful and sweet, and Castiel falls and falls and falls.

“You were never the brains of the operation, Cas,” he says. “We both know Sammy’s the smart one.”

Dean kisses him again, and again, and again, and oh, how wrong Castiel was. There is a certain amount of happiness in saying it, in just being, but it is nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the having.

Dean Winchester’s bedroom isn’t empty.

There’s the pile of clothes on the floor, peeled reverently from their owners layer by painstaking layer, a phone charging in the corner, and the gun he keeps under a pillow.

There’s Dean himself, of course, sleeping soundly for the first time in years, maybe.

And there’s Castiel.

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theydjarin · 3 years

Note

For the kisses 12 and/or 20 for DinLuke?

[kiss prompt ask game]

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss. & 20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

This prompt is so cute!

Luke had been to other Mandalorian parties, but none quite like this, with hundreds and hundreds of Mandalorians coming together to celebrate rescuing and reuniting more of their people. They’d started partying at sundown and now, well into the evening, there was no sign of stopping.

Scanning the room, Luke finally laid eyes on the Mandalorian he’d been looking for. Din was standing in the corner of the room, hands at his sides, fingers twitching nervously. Luke followed his probable eye-line to catch the sight of Grogu sitting on top of R2D2 who was doing his best approximation of a dance with C3PO, whirling around and occasionally bumping into each other. Grogu was having a blast, giggling and waving his hands in the air without a care in the world.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Luke said, sidling up to him quietly.

Din didn’t jump but he did straighten into a more poised position, so Luke knew he’d succeeded in taking him buy surprise. Skywalker 1, Djarin 0.

“They are,” Din allowed, tilting his head down to look at Luke.

“Are you having a good time?” Luke asked because he genuinely couldn’t tell. Din seemed tense, but he often seemed tense, and maybe watching his kid have a good time was his definition of a good time.

“There are a lot of people here,” Din said in lieu of an answer.

Ah, but it was an answer in itself.

“Come on,” Luke said, wrapping his hand around the crook of Din’s elbow. “Let’s go get some air. I want to see the stars from here anyway.”

“But...” Din said as Luke pulled him away, gaze still fixed on the child.

“They’ll be fine,” Luke insisted. “Threepio is better with babies than most sentients.”

Din relented and let himself be drawn through a door off the main hall, leading up to a small balcony, meant to give privacy to those who chose to follow the old Mandalorian ways.

On the other side of the doorway, the fresh air was brisk and a relief to Luke as it filled his lungs, his feet carrying him up the couple of steps to the balcony where they could watch the skies. The balcony was adorned with flowers, the lighting low and comforting. Luke had reached the top when he realized he lost Din along the way.

Din was still at the bottom of the steps, looking up at him. Luke’s eyes traced over the curves and lines of the familiar helmet, trying to glean some emotion from the tilt of his head, the angle of his shoulders.

“I’ve never been kissed,” Din said, taking Luke completely by surprise. Well. Skywalker 1, Djarin 1.

Luke moved closer, still standing a couple of steps above Din. He found himself fascinated by this new angle, so used to the Mandalorian all but towering over him; he wanted to see every side, corner, and slope of this man in front of him. He rested his hands on Din’s shoulders, then up to the warm fabric at the curve of his neck.

“We’ve kissed before,” Luke said softly, tilting his head forward to meet Din in a kov'nyn, letting his head rest against Din’s helmet for a moment. Luke could have sworn he heard a whimper coming from behind Din’s helmet as he gazed into the visor, but he would never know for sure.

“I mean...” Din started, his hands moving up to Luke’s hips, warm through the layers of his shirt.

“I know,” Luke said, a smile flitting across his face. “Have you wanted to?” he asked softly.

“Only with a few people,” Din confessed, as if ashamed of his desires. “Have you ever...?”

“Only a few times,” Luke said. “My affections were never in high demand growing up,” he said, laughing. “And then after that, there just wasn’t much time.”

“Really?” Din asked, surprised. “But you’re so....”

“Be careful how you finish that sentence,” Luke warned playfully.

“Cute,” Din finished, drawing Luke up short.

“Din Djarin,” Luke chided, dropping his forehead onto Din’s helmet again. “Are you saying you want me to kiss you?”

“I thought that was pretty obvious,” Din grumbled.

Luke squeezed his hold on Din gently and let his fingers trail across Din’s jaw before he moved his hands to the side of his helmet. “Can I take this off?”

Din has slowly been removing his helmet around Luke (and other trusted friends) more and more often lately, but it was still a treasure to be able to see Din like this, to know Din trusted him this much.

“Yes,” Din said, voice raspy.

Luke lifted the helmet up and off of Din’s head and bent down to gently place it on the ground.

Din was wide-eyed, clearly nervous, but still smiling at Luke so warmly he thought his insides were just going to melt. Suddenly, Luke realized he was at a loss about how to continue from here. He had been kissed before -- by Biggs, behind Tosche Station, by Han in a sterile hospital room, by Lando in the Millennium Falcon -- but he’d never kissed someone. Not like this.

His anxieties must have shown on his face because Din was pulling his hands back, Luke mourning the loss, and he said, “We don’t have to if you don’t--”

“No,” Luke interrupted, hands cupping the nape of Din’s neck. “I really want to kiss you.”

Luke used his hold on Din to tilt his head up as he leaned forward, letting their breaths mingle for a moment, everything around them stopping until the only two things that existed in the world were Luke Skywalker and Din Djarin. Din’s lips fell open slightly and Luke closed the gap between them, their lips finally, finally meeting, dry and warm, and oh, it had never been like this before.

Luke pressed forward, trusting Din to hold his weight, and let himself fall into the sensations of the kiss; Din’s moustache rasping against his face, the sounds of their lips meeting again and again, getting wetter and wetter, the taste of Din’s lips, his tongue-- it was not perfect but it was perfect to Luke. Din’s hands trailed down Luke’s back, palming his ass, caressing his thighs, sending fissures of pleasure all through his body.

Luke was leaning all of his body weight onto Din at this point, so it only took a little bit of nudging and maneuvering from Din to get him to wrap his legs around Din’s torso -- the beskar steel rubbing up against him should not have felt that good -- and Din moved quickly, pressing Luke’s back against the wall as they kept kissing and kissing. Luke never wanted to stop, thankful for the hours left until sunrise.

#dinluke #i had to stop there otherwise....... yeah #tbh might take this and turn it into more later but we'll see !!#my fic #the mandalorian #Anonymous

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chokemeanakin · 4 years

Text

Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader 👄💦 (smut)

Summary: Reader & Anakin see each other after being gone on a mission for weeks, they do some catching up iykwim. (Anakin’s a tease and reader is kinda shy woops) ((this is kinda vague. basically he eats your pussy like a champ👀))

masterlist

read it on ao3

You were disappointed to see that Anakin wasn’t in your room when you got back. You had both been deployed on separate missions to opposite ends of the galaxy, and hadn’t seen him in weeks. In fact, you hadn’t seen another human in weeks, except for the clones when they took their armor off. The planet you had been stationed on was inhabited by a race of squid-looking people, who were warm and welcoming to you-- that is, until you took off your hood and showed them that you were a female. Then their backward traditions came to light, and you had to stop yourself from returning to Coruscant and leaving the squid-people defenseless against the Separatists.

The amount of times you had been overlooked by their leaders, your words ignored and belittled just because you were a girl… it was ridiculous. They acted like you weren’t even there when you were the one in charge of the mission, and you didn’t even get a thank you after you drove the last Separatist ship away from their planet. One fellow had even requested you work in the sustenance unit, to put your hands to better use...

You didn’t think anyone still upheld those ideals, and you had no idea why the Republic wanted to defend people like that.

It came to be that much more of a relief when you got to your ship that evening, finally leaving the planet only to see a hologram message from Anakin waiting for you. He, too, was done with his mission, and would be returning to Coruscant the same time as you.

Or at least, that’s what he said.

You sighed, closing the door behind you as you walked into your empty apartment. The call of Anakin’s name went unanswered, and none of the lights were on. Maybe he got held up somewhere.

You decided to take advantage of the time you had alone to wash up from the mission. Weeks of stress and turmoil washed off of you in the shower, replaced by honey scented soap. You got out of the shower and put on a t-shirt and underwear to sleep in. When you walked into your bedroom towel drying your hair, your breath caught in your throat.

“Anakin!”

Oh, it was so good to see him again. You dropped the towel and bounded onto the bed where he was laying with his legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded beneath his head. He switched the tv off when he saw you. “When did you get back?”

His arms immediately wrapped around you, tucking you under his chin as you smooshed yourself into his chest. “Just a few moments ago. We had to take a slight detour to drop Plo Koon off at another station, but I raced here as fast as I could.”

“Thank god. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” his voice was soft, sincere, and you couldn’t help but answer it by tipping your chin up to capture his lips in a warm, lingering kiss.

His flesh hand lifted to cup your jaw, grazing your cheek with his thumb. God, you missed this. Feeling his hair tangled in your fingertips, reveling in the warmth of his body beneath your own, tasting his lips while tracing them with the tip of your tongue--

“Wait,” Anakin broke away, lips millimeters apart from yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, which were swimming with curiosity. “How did your mission go?”

“It was successful,” you offered vaguely, reaching back up to continue the kiss. He humored you for a moment, then pressed you back again.

“Did you get the Separatists off the planet?”

“Of course I did,” you framed his lips with yours, harder so that he would just shut up and focus on you already.

“Were you hurt?” somehow he had managed to pry you off once again. You let out a groan, headbutting his collarbone.

“No, I’m fine, now would you knock it off with the small talk and just kiss me? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years and right now I need you...”

Anakin’s face morphed into a sly grin at this.

“You need me, huh?”

“You have no idea how sexist those people were,” you mumbled, glaring at his neck. His hand shifted to the back of your head, lightly scratching the hair there which sent pleasurable tingles down your spine.

“I’m sorry… they’re kind of known for that. I thought the Council would have warned you at least.”

“Yeah, well, I never have to see them ever again,” you huffed, looking up at him. The sight of his face always seemed to take your breath away, but now you were melting under his sweet gaze with a newfound appreciation. He had always been nothing but generous and respectful toward you. Nothing like the irreverence you were treated with back at that planet. “Please, can we just…”

Anakin pressed his smile to your lips, finally giving in to your needs. You allowed yourself to fully melt into him, and now that he was just as invested as you, the kiss took on a whole new level of intensity. It started off soft, and slow, a ‘hello again’ after so much time apart. But soon he tilted your head to get a better angle, slipping his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss. Your heartbeat picked up, hands fisting the material of his shirt as you shifted to sit on his lip. He, however, was not having that.

“Whoa--” you breathed as he hooked a leg around yours, flipping you around so your back was now on the bed and your head in the pillows. The bed bounced beneath you but he wasted no time in connecting his lips back to yours. He missed you too, you could feel it in the way he breathed you in, his hands running over every inch of your body like he was mapping it out for the first time.

You could stay right here, kissing him like this forever.

However, his mischievous fingers had other plans. He trailed them down your sides, over your hips, slipping under the material of your sleep shirt. He didn’t go up any further, ever the gentleman, instead just tracing the skin just above the elastic line of your underwear.

“No bra?” he pulled back an inch, smirking down at your very obviously prominent peaks. They were making an appearance from under your shirt, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m wearing pajamas, Anakin.”

“I’m not complaining,” he leaned back in, this time sneaking his hands higher and higher. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered alive, furiously flapping their wings in your stomach. But this was fine. This was okay. He had seen this part of you before, and he had loved it. There was no need to be shy about this.

Anakin’s hands cupped your breasts at the same time his teeth closed over your bottom lip, nibbling it lightly. You gasped, hooking a leg around his waist as you found yourself needing to be closer to him, needing more of him.

As his mouth drifted from your lips and painted a trail down your neck, you got to work undoing the belt he had on around his waist. It was hard work, especially when Anakin was distracting you with his lips sucking a mark into your neck and his hands massaging your breasts, but you managed to get the job done and flung the belt over the side of the bed.

“Off,” you ordered, pushing the leather armor off his shoulders and discarding it, too. Before you could get to the last layer, his hot mouth closed around your nipple over your shirt. The feeling made you gasp, and you wondered why he didn’t just take your shirt off. He was too preoccupied it seemed, too caught up in that one-track mind of his, his mission now set on a different location. He pushed your shirt up to your ribcage so he could plant open mouthed kisses to the skin of your navel, heading down, down, down.

“Wait--” you called out hoarsely, the butterflies tornadoing inside you with a vengeance. Anakin’s intentions were clear, but the thought of that was suddenly too much, it was too intense, you were too hot--

He stopped his descent immediately, lifting his head from the edge of your pantyline. His lips were red and swollen from kissing, bangs falling into his face, pupils almost black with lust. “Are you alright?”

“I...” It was those damn butterflies. They were always holding you back, always telling you that you shouldn’t. But you couldn’t help how nervous Anakin’s heated gaze made you, how the thought of him down there where no one else had ever been before simultaneously made you want to combust with humiliation and pleasure at the same time. “I’ve never done that before.”

He knew this. You had talked about it before, early on when you thought he’d expect something from you and then get bored and leave when you didn’t put out. But he didn’t do that, of course he didn’t, he was Anakin Skywalker. And he loved you too much to push you to do something you weren’t comfortable with.

“We can stop, if you’d like. Or we could go back to just kissing.”

There he goes again, being that perfect gentleman. So caring, so sweet, and so thoughtful of the way he was making you feel. He only ever tried to make you comfortable and happy, and you trusted him for that. Your mind began to work in overdrive, working through the butterflies, grasping desperately for a strand of confidence. What’s the worst that could happen, anyways? If you were going to do this with anyone, the obvious choice would be Anakin.

“No,” you could barely believe the word had made it past your lips. “I don’t want to stop.”

This surprised him too.

“Are you sure?” he pushed himself onto his elbows, furthering the distance between you two so you could think more clearly. “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight.”

“I said I wanted you,” you pushed him back down by the shoulders, his warmth returning to your skin. “I meant it.”

There was a flurry of activity in your gut in response to the wicked grin Anakin gave you.

Oh god… your mind screamed. What had you gotten yourself into.

“You can tell me to stop at any time,” he reminded you before leaning back down to press a wet kiss to your hip bone. “I mean it.”

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded.

He turned his full attention at mouthing the delicate skin of your hip, no doubt working a mark there as a reminder for tomorrow. He kissed across your belly, to your other hip, lightly nibbling as his hands ventured downward.

He skipped past your intimate area, to your relief, instead heading for the tops of your thighs. He squeezed reassuringly, hands sliding down to your knees. His lips followed in their wake, first kissing his way down your left leg, then your right. He was drawing it out for your sake or for his, you weren’t sure, but the longer he gave you, the more you were able to control the raging nerves screaming at you to back out.

And the more heat seemed to pool in your underwear.

No matter how anxious you were for Anakin to see your most private parts, the longing for his touch there overshadowed it. You were certain you wanted this, it was just getting there that was the hard part.

After returning to the top of your thigh of your right leg, Anakin tugged it open a couple inches, just so that he had enough room to continue his foray into the soft skin of your inner thigh. It was a new feeling, sensitive to the press of his lips and warmth of his tongue. You gripped the sheets, squirming in anticipation as he took his time exploring this new area you had given him.

Finally, he was done, and he hovered over your heat. You squeezed your eyes closed, waiting, waiting, waiting…

Suddenly there was a shadow over you, and you felt lips attach to the side of your neck again.

What the hell?

“Anakin?” you asked, fingers loosening their grip on the bed sheets. He hummed in acknowledgement, raising his face to be level with yours.

“I thought…”

His blue eyes stayed trained on you, waiting patiently for you to finish.

“I thought you were going to…”

“What?” He wasn’t being serious. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Of fucking course. He wanted you to say it. Because carrying through with it wasn’t embarrassing enough, he just had to make this harder for you.

You wanted to be mad at him, but the thing was… he had already gotten you all worked up. And now you couldn’t imagine backing out. Your core pulsed in time with your heart, pooling with heat, yearning for relief. You rolled your hips, hoping to get a bit of friction to no avail. You had no choice but to play his little game.

“I want you to…” you wracked your brain, searching for a way to say it without sounding disgusting and idiotic. Dirty talk was not your strong suit, and he knew it. “Kiss me.”

“You want me to kiss you?”

You nodded, cheeks blazing.

He leaned down and placed his lips on your quickly, gently, then pulled away.

“No…” you whined, the feeling in your womanhood intensifying with each moment it went unattended to. “Not there.”

“Then where?” his smile was wry, tone teasing. God, you were so going to get him back for this some day.

He ducked his head to kiss the base of your neck, then looked up at you. “Here?”

“No.”

He hooked your shirt under his hands and lifted it over your head, then planted his lips on the exposed skin of your right breast. “Here?”

“No.”

He moved to the left. “Here?”

You moaned impatiently, shaking your head as you tried pushing yourself upward on the bed to get him to his destination faster. He locked you in place with an iron grip to your hips.

“Here?” he questioned innocently, pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“No.”

You don’t know how long he spent peppering teasing kisses all over your body, but it was enough to get you writhing under him, each swipe of his lips burning more than the last. By the time he got to the place you desired most, you were a right mess.

“Here?” he looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eyes, the feeling of his breath on you sending shockwaves through your body. He was so close, so close, if you just tilted your hips up a little bit… He pinned them to the bed.

“Yes,” you panted. “There, please there.”

His face twisted into a wry smile. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Your breath caught in your throat with the first touch of his tongue on your underwear. The contact was so light, you could barely feel it over the material. You looked down at him, watching him drag his tongue in the softest line from your hole to your clit. There was that pressure, that sweet, delectable pressure, but you needed more--

“So eager…” he purred, lips ghosting over your nub. You weren’t sure how much more of this torture you could take. If you had known Anakin would have been this much of a tease…

He suddenly pressed his palms to the insides of your thighs, spreading them. Then, he dipped his fingers under the elastic band of your underwear, and pulled them down your legs. Your cheeks burned furiously as you saw a string of slick connect your throbbing core to your panties.

“Fuck,” Anakin breathed, biting his lip. His eyes were trained so intently on you, on the most intimate part of you. You couldn’t bear to watch. You laid back flat, covering your eyes with your arm to hide yourself.

Your heart began slamming against your ribs as you felt his arms hooks under your thighs, keeping them spread apart, and pulling you closer to him. You could feel his breath on you for real now, nothing in the way. And it was making you absolutely fall apart.

His fingers made first contact with you. He thumbed apart your slit, looking at your opening.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured before swiping a thumb over it, collecting the wetness. His touch was extremely gentle as he spread it over your clit.

It was hard to swallow. Your face was feverish, your body sweating and writhing and yearning for his touch. He had you locked in his iron grasp, forcing you to take the little he gave you.

It seemed like an eternity before he finally, finally, finally lowered his mouth to you.

The feeling was heaven. A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it, and you bit down on your arm to muffle the rest of your sounds as his lips pressed an open mouthed kiss to your core. His tongue darted out, sliding between your folds, tasting you. He hummed in appreciation, the vibrations pleasuring you further.

You wanted to move, to grind against his face, to get him to that pulsing nub that was begging for attention. But his arms around your thighs were holding you so tight, there was no room for leeway. He worked at an agonizingly slow pace, continuing his teasing torture as you fell apart beneath him.

“Anakin,” you hissed, sucking in a breath. He trailed a line down now, tracing your hole with his tongue. “Anakin, please.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” the words were murmured into you, his lips wet with your slick. You cried out when he licked up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking it lightly into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you cursed, back curving off the bed. You bit down on the flesh of your wrist, gripping at the bedsheets so hard your fingers went numb with the other. He did it again, kissing the sensitive bundle of nerves like he would your mouth before twirling his tongue around it. You were fully wrecked beneath him, even before he began to circle your entrance with his flesh finger.

“This okay?” he asked, and the sight of his eyes locked on you while his head was between your legs, lips wet with your pleasure, was almost enough to send you over the edge. You nodded, mewling in bliss as he slowly sunk his finger in.

This wasn’t supposed to feel so good.

You had tried fingering yourself alone before, as most people explore their bodies. But the angle was just never right, your finger not long or thick enough, and you never really felt anything. Now, though-- now it was like nothing you had ever experienced before.

His lips returned to your clit, massaging it with that talented tongue of his. Your breathing was erratic, body trembling, unsure of how to handle so much pleasure at once.

“Does that feel good?” Anakin purred against your heat. “Mm? Yeah?”

You whimpered around your arm, nodding your head.

“I can’t hear you, sweetheart,” he removed his mouth and suddenly pressed down on your clit with his mechanical thumb. Fireworks erupted behind your eyes, your nub pulsing against the metal.

You released your arm from your teeth, noting the many crescent marks now engraved into your skin. “Yes, it feels good,” you mewled. “It feels so good.”

“Good girl,” he rewarded you by flicking your clit with his thumb and sinking his finger back into you at the same time. You cried out in ecstasy, balling the bedsheets into your fists. “You think you can take another?”

You nod furiously, already feeling the second digit begin to stretch you open. You’d never been able to fit two fingers before, but he seemed to slide in with little effort. The feeling of being full-- at least this full-- was amazing. Especially when he swiveled his fingers around, getting you used to the feeling, searching for a spot in your walls.

It felt like you had been struck by lightning. The sudden pleasure had you wail in surprise, keening around his fingers as he rocked them smooth and slow in and out of you, hitting that spot every time. With each pump, you saw white.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he encouraged you, knowing you were close to finishing. The feeling had been building up for a while now, and you were so close, so high up on the cliff, teetering over the edge, but he kept holding back that last bit that would send you over. It was purposeful, you knew, and the frustration sent tears to your eyes.

He mouthed at your clit again, warm and wet and good, but as soon as he felt you clench around him he would pull back, denying you of relief.

Sounds left your mouth that you didn’t even know you could make. Whimpering, mewling, gasping, panting, moaning. The pleasure was so intense that you dug your hands into his hair, trying to push his head away from you. He responded by pinning your arms to the bed above your head with the force. You really were at his full mercy now, being forced to just take it.

You couldn’t even beg him to make you cum because you couldn’t form words anymore.

Suddenly, his fingers pressed in deep and hard against that spot. It would have had you shooting off the bed if he wasn’t holding you to it. At the same time, his mouth suctioned around your clit, tongue lapping it as he sucked it into his mouth. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body tensing up with each muscle as waves and waves of pleasure slammed into you. Your breath caught in your throat, cutting off your moan as your back arched impossibly off the bed. Your voice returned in a drawn out whimper as you desperately rutted against him, riding out your orgasm.

You came so hard reality left you for a couple seconds. You forgot where you were, what your name was, who’s hand you were suddenly crushing between your fingers-- all you knew was the pleasure.

You couldn’t hear for a couple of minutes after coming down. Your head was pounding and there was a slight ring in your ears, that was it. Slowly, your senses returned to you, your body stopped twitching with aftershocks, and you fell limp.

Anakin carefully tugged his fingers out of you, and released your thighs. He gently closed them and crawled up next to you, slipping an arm under your head to pull you into his body.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he kissed the wet trail your tears had made on your cheeks. You turned your head to meet his lips, wanting to taste the shiny slick coating them.

Right now, you had been reduced to useless mush. But once you got control over your body again, you were going to get him back for the sweet, agonizing torture he had just put you through.

#softdom anakin #anakin is a tease #this is hella raunchy #sorry god #and jesus #anakin fic #shy reader #cause shoot idk what im doing #i'll get over it someday #star wars prequals #rots #anakin smut #dont worry youll return the favor soon

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alittlextrathatway · 3 years

Note

Matt and Sylvie & Number 9 for the fluff prompt please! 💕

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

******

Severide had asked them to take a quick trip to the cabin to get it ready for him.

It was awkward being alone with Sylvie given their current situation. She’d just stopped seeing the Lieutenant from 40 and the assumption around both houses was that it ended because of Matt. She hadn’t said a word to him about it, not that he expected her too, so he had no idea what actually happened.

Regardless, his best friend was planning to propose to Sylvie’s best friend in this cabin in just a few hours.

Matt had a feeling that plan was wrecked — judging by the snow piling up outside.

“The roads in and out of here are closed,” Sylvie announces, dropping her phone on the coffee table. “Poor Severide. This was supposed to be such a big night for him and Stella! Have you talked to him yet?”

Matt nods, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. It was a good thing he’d already started a fire. They were going to need it. “He said not to worry about it. He’ll improvise. So, it’s gonna be a big night no matter what. Just not here.”

“Oh! But what about the strawberries! I mean the champagne will keep but the chocolate covered strawberries won’t,” Sylvie says, frowning at the pretty spread she’d set up on the coffee table.

Matt shrugs and then grins at her. “More for us?”

“God, that’s tempting. We can’t though!”

“Why not?”

“They’re for Stella!”

“You said yourself they won’t last. Kidd won’t get to eat them no matter what. Someone should enjoy them,” Matt reasons, glancing pointedly between her and the platter.

Sylvie bites her bottom lip before reluctantly reaching for the smallest strawberry. “Well, maybe just one.”

She really is too cute. How did he not see her sooner? What had been different about them the last few years? Had she changed or had he? Maybe it was both of them. Maybe, unlike his past relationships, he and Sylvie were growing together not apart.

“Guess we’re bunking here for the night,” Matt says while glancing at the unexpected blizzard through the window. “You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

She nods. “Okay.” Awkward silence descends and Matt hates it. Their silences had never been awkward before. Sylvie looks guiltily at the tray and then grabs it as she stands from the couch. “I should put these in the fridge. If we can keep them cold Stella might still be able to enjoy them.”

As soon as she takes a step toward the kitchen, the lights flicker and then cut out. Only the glow of the fire illuminates the room, surrounding them in hues of orange and yellow.

“Wind probably knocked a tree into some power lines somewhere,” Matt observes. “Looks like we’re gonna have to eat those strawberries after all. No power, no fridge.”

“And also no heat,” Sylvie reminds him as she comes back with the tray.

“Good point. Guess we’re both sleeping on the couch. We’ll need the fire for warmth,” Matt tells her with an apologetic glance.

At that realization, the tension is palpable. He can feel her apprehension as if it were his own. Guilt overwhelms him. It’s his fault that their relationship, whatever it is, has become so uncomfortable. His dumbass answer fanned the flames of fear and doubt in her and unless he straightens it out nothing will ever be the same again.

“Or I’m sure there’s a sleeping bag around here somewhere,” he says lamely. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Sylvie shoves almost an entire strawberry in her mouth and nods silently as she chews. The sight of her chewing ferociously and avidly avoiding his eyes would be comical if it didn’t sting so much.

“We have plenty of time to kill until then,” Matt observes. “What should we do?”

She continues to chew but shrugs and points at him, indicating he should decide. He nearly grins. Her determination to avoid conversation just gave him the perfect opening.

“Up to me, huh?”

She nods.

“Then I think we should talk. About you and me.”

She gulps down the rest of the strawberry in one swallow, nearly choking in the process. “What?” She asks through a startled cough.

“I miss you and I hate how distant we are.”

“Matt—“

“No, hear me out. I know I agreed to give you space but that was a mistake. I should have said what I really wanted to say but as always I can’t think straight around you. You—you fog things up and the words get lost in all my feelings and I end up sounding like a jackass.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, meeting her eyes. “I don’t want Gabby. She could walk through the door right now and beg me to leave with her and I wouldn’t do it. She and I had our chance. We don’t work. Honestly, despite our good moments, we never really did. And I don’t want a relationship that has a few good moments. I want a relationship that has a few bad moments. Maybe one that even allows me to be happy in the middle of the challenges. That’s not what Gabby and I had.”

“It isn’t?”

He shakes his head and takes her hands in his, sliding closer to her on the couch. “No, but it is what you and I have. Even as friends, that’s how our relationship works. I want to be so much more than your friend, Sylvie, but I know we’ll never lose that. It’s our foundation. I want this,” he tells her as he releases one of her hands to point between them. “I want what I have with you for as long as you’ll let me have it.”

His words echo through the tiny cabin as they grow quiet again. Sylvie stares at him with wide nervous eyes, unblinking. She seems frozen with indecision.

Until she isn’t.

Until she stands straight up, nearly knocking him over since they were almost sitting on top each other, and walks toward the hallway.

“Pillows!” She shouts, frantically. “We need pillows. And blankets! I’ll go find them!”

He watches her go with a bewildered expression. He did speak, right? Outloud? He rises from the couch and follows her down the hall. “The extra blankets are in the closet in the bedroom,” he calls out to her back as she speed-walks down the short hallway.

“Right! Got it,” she says, never once looking back at him. “Oh look! And there’s a sleeping bag too! Perfect!”

He enters the bedroom and stops next to her, eyes narrowed on her panicked expression. What is going on here? She shoves the sleeping bag and a couple of pillows into his arms.

“You did hear me, right?” He asks while watching her grab as many blankets and pillows as she can manage.

“This should be plenty, right?” She’s trying to appear absent-minded but that same panic is in her eyes so he knows she heard him.

He sighs and nods. “Yes, this should be plenty.”

He follows her back out to the living room where she sets all the pillows and blankets in an armchair and begins to make up the couch. She throws the two spare throw pillows on the floor and then starts tucking a sheet around the cushions.

He watches, frustration building in his chest, as she follows that with a thick quilt and then begins meticulously fluffing and arranging the pillows. Finally, he gives up waiting for a response and unrolls the sleeping bag across the floor in front of the fire. He turns to grab a pillow from the armchair only to find all of them gone.

“Do you plan on sharing any pillows?” He asks Sylvie with a quirked brow.

She looks dazed as she blinks over at him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“The pillows,” he repeats as he motions to the couch that’s almost too full of pillows to sit on.

“Oh!” She says, hands flying to her blushing cheeks. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“What is going on?” Matt asks loudly, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Did I say something wrong?”

“What? No! You—god, you said all the right things.”

“Then why are you still avoiding me?”

“I’m trying not to say or do anything stupid,” she admits in a barely audible voice.

“Nothing you say or do could be stupid,” Matt assures her.

“Oh no? Jumping you last time we kissed felt pretty stupid after it was all said and done and we both know, based on that first time, that I’m in way deeper than you. So, I don’t want to say anything that might scare yo—“

He cuts her off by suddenly dipping his head and capturing her lips with his. She tenses for a moment and then melts against him. They stand in front of the fire sharing searing kisses for what feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. It’s excruciatingly slow and yet it ends much too soon. It doesn’t make sense.

“There,” Matt says as they pull apart. “Now we’re even.”

She blinks at him, looking adorably confused. “What?”

“You’ve jumped me and I’ve jumped you,” he replies, catching his breath. “We’re even.”

“Oh god, I love you.” She gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth. A goofy grin appears on his face as he pulls her hands away. She winces and then continues rambling. “I didn’t mean to tell you that. Not...not yet anyway. Oh shit. Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“No,” he replies in a firm tone. Though the smile on his face contradicts his tone. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Why not?” She asks, her bottom lip poking out in a very slight pout.

“Because I love you too and I want you to know it,” Matt confesses, rubbing his hands up and down her arms soothingly and trying not to look amused by her pouting lip. “I don’t want to pretend I feel less for you than I actually do ever again.”

She gasps at his words before framing his face with her hands and yanking his lips down to hers. She tastes like strawberries and dark chocolate. He guides her down to the couch, crushing the pillows she’d placed on one end. It actually works out well for them. It props her up at a more comfortable angle for him to settle himself on top of her.

With everything finally out in the open, the layers of clothing between them don’t last long and by the time the sun is setting in the sky they’re panting, sweaty, naked, and wrapped in three layers of blankets.

The power still hasn’t come back on and the air has chilled considerably. He kisses a trail down her jaw to her neck and then rests his head on her chest with his arms wound around her waist.

Every single pillow is still propped underneath her.

“You’re better than an electric blanket,” Sylvie tells him with a sleepy satisfied smile. “You’re so warm.”

He laughs and presses a light kiss to the middle of her sternum. “I guess it’s only fair that I’m your blanket. Considering, you took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

“I’m happy to be your pillow, Matt Casey.”

“And I will gladly be your blanket, Sylvie Brett. All you have to do is ask.”

#chicago fire #brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #fanfiction #angellwings writes #my fic #fanfiction prompt game #ask prompt #this one is the longest 😬 it’s barely under 2k #i’m so sorry #long post

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years

Text

Eraser Room

Happy Birthday, @spaceskam!!! 🎉Here’s a Michael Sanders AU fic, set after Staring in the Blackness at Some Distant Star. I hope it’s the fluffy teen Malex content you were looking for! 💜

Also on AO3!

***

A folded piece of paper lands on Alex’s desk halfway through his math test. He looks up to see Michael slinging his backpack over his shoulder, his curls bouncing as he strolls toward the front of the room.

Michael lingers to ask Mr. Valdez a question after he hands in his test and Alex takes advantage of the distraction to unfold the note.

eraser room?

Alex swallows roughly as he stares at Michael’s message, those two little words and all they imply making heat pool in his gut. He hides the note in his pocket as deftly as he can and looks up to find Michael’s eyes on him, a satisfied little grin on his face as he walks out the door into the hall.

“Fuck,” Alex whispers to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

He rushes the last section and is out of his seat in no time.

The second Alex slips into the Eraser Room, Michael crowds him up against the door, pushing into his space until Alex can feel his lips brush against his mouth, soft and a little wet like Michael’s just licked them. A surprised noise slips from Alex’s mouth, but he melts into Michael’s touch easy as anything.

Alex lets his messenger bag slip off his shoulder and thud carelessly against the ground when Michael deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding over Alex’s in a way that makes him feel hot all over. His hands desperately seek out Michael’s hips, reeling him in closer until their bodies are flush against each other.

He can feel Michael’s thumb pressing gently into the underside of his jaw as he changes the angle, rising up on his toes and guiding Alex’s head back until it’s resting on the solid door behind him. Alex smiles, a wave of affection overtaking him, and kisses Michael back that much harder.

Alex drifts for a while, barely aware of anything but the warm press of Michael’s mouth against his own, until Michael pulls away from him with a soft, slick sound and slides his palms down his chest to settle on his waist. Alex pants into the space between them, head still spinning as he opens his eyes.

Michael’s cheeks are flushed and his kiss-bitten lips are still so, so tempting.

“Hi,” Michael says, smiling at him dazedly like he’s the one who just got shoved up against a door and kissed to within an inch of his life.

“Hey,” Alex laughs a little breathlessly and swoops in for another peck, just because he can.

It’s quick, just a short press of their lips, but Michael is beaming at him all the same when Alex pulls away, his eyes going soft and intense the way they always do when they’re wrapped up in each other like this. They track a zigzagging path across Alex’s face like Michael is trying to commit his features to memory and Alex can’t hide the color darkening his cheeks.

“What?” Alex asks a little self-consciously.

“Hm?” Michael asks, tilting his head adorably.

“You’re staring at me,” Alex accuses lightly.

“I missed you,” Michael confesses with a shrug. His thumb slips under the hem of Alex’s black t-shirt to rub against the sensitive skin of his hip, making Alex shiver. Michael’s smile goes a little smug at that, his thumb pressing into his skin a little more firmly.

“You saw me on Friday,” Alex points out.

“Yeah, a whole weekend ago,” Michael complains. “One day without you is bad enough, but two? I hope you appreciate the restraint I’m showing right now.”

Alex snorts at that. “Is that what you call this?” he asks incredulously, pressing his hips forward until he feels Michael half-hard against him. “Restraint?”

“Your pants are still on, aren’t they?” Michael counters, tucking his fingers pointedly into Alex’s belt loops.

“Touché,” Alex says, and then they’re kissing again, slow and wet and so fucking perfect Alex feels like he might be seconds away from melting into a puddle. For all his teasing, he’s missed Michael too.

Michael pulls away from him a long minute later, but it takes a second for Alex to realize he’s asked him something.

“What?” he asks intelligently.

Michael laughs fondly at him and repeats himself. “I asked how your camping trip went.”

“Oh,” Alex says, the fog slowly clearing from his mind. “Um, well, my dad went on his, like, five millionth rant about immigrants stealing jobs and gay people corrupting the American youth, so not great.”

“Ugh,” Michael grimaces. “What a piece of shit.”

“Yeah. Greg was there though, so he was more interested in grilling him about the Navy than bothering me too much,” Alex continues.

“Oh, he’s back?” Michael asks.

“Mhmm,” Alex says. “He’s on leave, so he’ll be staying with us until he ships out next weekend.”

“Does that mean you can’t come to Isobel’s thing later?” Michael pouts.

“Isobel’s having a thing?” Alex asks, this being the first time he’s hearing about it.

“Yeah, she planned it this weekend” Michael nods. “The Evanses’ll be out late at some country club thing, so she’s inviting some people over for something low-key.”

“Who’s going?” Alex asks. He likes Isobel—a lot, actually—but he doesn’t really like her friends.

Michael shrugs. “Didn’t ask,” he says. “Not Valenti though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Hmm,” Alex hums thoughtfully.

“Wanna be my date?” Michael asks after a minute, sliding his arms around Alex’s shoulders to hang on his neck a little, and then, to sweeten the deal, adds, “We can eat her bougie snacks and hook up in the bathroom.”

“So romantic,” Alex teases, tightening his arms around Michael’s waist. Michael’s grin widens.

“Pretty sure there’s a scented candle in there I can light to set the mood for you if you want,” he says, voice dipping low and seductive.

“You’re unbelievable,” Alex laughs, shaking his head.

“You love me,” Michael says, confidence shining through in his voice.

“I do,” Alex agrees, and leans in for a kiss. Michael hums happily against his mouth and Alex has maybe never loved him more.

“So, is that a yes?” Michael asks when they part.

“Of course it’s a yes,” Alex answers immediately. “I saw Greg all weekend, he’ll get over it if I hang out with you for a few hours.”

“Perfect,” Michael smiles. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Just as Alex is angling for another kiss, the bell rings in the hall, signaling the end of the period. The both of them groan in tandem before reluctantly pulling away to pick up their belongings.

“Fuck Social Studies,” Alex complains aloud, thinking of their next period class. “Who even cares what happened on this stupid planet anyway?”

“Right?” Michael says, eyes wide and impassioned. “We should just stay here, honestly.”

“We have a quiz on Wednesday, though,” Alex says.

“So?”

“So not all of us are super geniuses who don’t need the review day,” Alex says, pecking Michael on the cheek to curb his disappointment. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Alex turns around to reach for the door then, and Michael immediately bursts into giggles.

“Oh shit,” he says, and Alex turns to look over his shoulder.

“What?” he asks, taking in the look of guilty amusement on Michael’s face.

“Babe, you’ve got chalk dust all over your back,” he says.

Alex sighs. He takes a closer look at the door in front of him and sure enough there’s an Alex-shaped smudge in the layer of chalk dust covering the door where Michael shoved him up against it.

“Weird,” Alex comments dryly, shooting another look over his shoulder. “Wonder how that happened?”

“Sorry?” Michael apologizes.

Alex tries to wipe the dust off, but he can’t quite reach most of his back.

“Can you help me get it off?” Alex asks eventually.

“Yeah, hang on,” Michael says.

Alex feels his hands on him a second later, smoothing over the fabric in a way Alex is pretty sure is just rubbing the chalk dust in more.

When he says as much, Michael hums and says, “Mm, might be right about that. Guess you’ll have to take it off?”

“Michael,” Alex laughs, but lets Michael tug his shirt over his head anyway.

Michael leans forward to press a kiss to the back of Alex’s bare shoulder before he shakes his shirt out, beating the white powder from the fabric. He hands it back to Alex when he’s done, but before Alex can get dressed again Michael stops him.

“Wait, no, it’s in your hair too,” Michael says, burying his fingers in Alex’s hair and shaking the chalk dust out.

It feels nice—Michael’s hands on him always do—but then Michael tugs a little on the ends and Alex lets out a surprised moan, that nice, pleasant feeling shifting into something hot and needy in an instant.

“God, what is this? Are you trying to get me hard right now?” he asks, turning his head to look at Michael as much as he can with Michael gripping his hair.

“Is it working?” Michael asks, hooking his chin over Alex’s shoulder and scraping his blunt nails gently across his scalp.

“We have class,” Alex whines, desperately clinging to his one sensible brain cell. He wants Michael—has wanted him since he read his note—but they just don’t have enough time to fool around right now.

“Yeah, but it’s been a while since I went down on you in here,” Michael says, freeing himself from Alex’s hair to wrap his arms around Alex’s front. “Or at all, to be honest,” he adds, his fingers teasing along the waistband of Alex’s jeans.

“It’s been four days,” Alex points out.

“Exactly,” Michael says.

Alex shakes his head before he says, “You’re a terrible influence, Michael Sanders.”

He can feel Michael grin against the side of his neck for a moment before he opens his mouth again.

“Haven’t you heard? Corrupting the American youth is item one on the Gay Agenda, Alex. I really don’t have a choice here,” Michael deadpans.

Alex bursts out into incredulous laughter.

“Okay, one: you’re not even gay, and two: fuck you,” Alex laughs.

“A technicality,” Michael says before leaning in close to Alex’s ear to add, “And only if you ask me nicely.”

Alex groans and turns around to kiss Michael once on the mouth. Michael follows after him when he pulls away, but Alex presses his finger to Michael’s lips to stop him.

“Save it for the party,” he says, and ignores Michael’s pout to throw his shirt back on. There’s a little bit of chalk still on it, but it’s subtle enough that no one should notice.

“If you insist,” Michael sighs dramatically, but he’s smiling as he lifts his backpack off the floor and slings it across his shoulder.

The halls are already empty as they slip out of the Eraser Room, the bell seconds from ringing in the next period, but when Michael reaches for Alex’s hand and threads their fingers together, Alex can’t find it in himself to rush.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #malex fluff #michael sanders au #my fic #There’s SO many kisses happening here #I really dialed up the fluff on this one #but I think that's what we all need rn

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fanficimagery · 4 years

Text

Breaking Free

Summary: Imagine being something that HYDRA had no idea what they helped create. Thor recognizes you for what you are and takes you to Asgard to learn. Now.. imagine breaking free.

Words: 5.2K Warnings: Mentions of scars/torture. Violence. Brief active shooter situation. Marvel!AU. Frigga lived, Odin died. Thanos didn't happen.

Another day, another HYDRA base taken out.

The Avengers have had various tips about where the scattered fugitives could be hunkering down, but nothing proved useful until now. And with how determined the men and women were to keep their base from getting into Avengers' hands, the team knew they had to be hiding something of value.

"Alright, FRIDAY, send 'em out." Tony drops a small suitcase at his feet, the case popping open so small bots can take flight and scan every nook and cranny of the base.

Wanda, Steve, and Natasha have accompanied Tony after preliminary scans showed no bodies in the building, while Bucky and Clint take stock of any weapons they've pulled. Even Bruce is there, on standby for any medical emergencies.

"Sir, my scans have picked up a room underground with a single heartbeat within."

"A secret room? Yay. Send me the route to take, FRIDAY." Then addressing the team, he says, "We got a body. Still breathing in a hidden room. Time to investigate."

Natasha's hands immediately rest on the guns strapped to her thighs and Steve takes the shield off his back to hold out in front of him. Tony meets Wanda's eye and she nods, taking the lead with a red shield faintly glowing in front of her. From behind, Tony guides her.

"How did we miss a body?" Natasha wonders, keeping her footsteps light.

"The room is underground and HYDRA's apparently gotten smarter. They've layered something around the room to keep it from being detected."

"Something?" Wanda muses. "You mean you don't know what it is? You are losing your touch, old man."

Steve and Natasha quietly chuckle as Tony mockingly gasps.

They soon come into a room, it's floor looking like tiled stone. There are no doors, no windows, nothing.

"Okay," Steve drawls. "What now?"

"We go down," Tony says. "At least that's what FRIDAY is telling me."

Everyone glances down and Wanda shoots a blast of red energy downward that goes through the floor without damaging it. Sure enough, she picks up what FRIDAY is telling Tony. "I sense them," she says. "There's someone down there."

Natasha walks over to the back left corner of the room, she stepping on a button in the floor. Two of the stone tiles slide open, presenting a set of stairs.

"I love secret rooms," Tony exhales with restrained glee.

Tony reclaims the lead and the four are surprised when they reach the bottom. The underground room is much larger than they anticipated and, in fact, there's a room within a room. The walls to the room are clearly one-way if the oblivious girl is anything to go by, and she's clearly under surveillance given the numerous camera angles they've got up on screen and her vitals beeping off of another.

Wanda hesitantly walks up towards the door, a frown tugging down the corner of her lips.

"You okay there?" Natasha asks, stepping up to Wanda's side.

"I.. know her." At her admission, Tony and Steve quickly look up.

----------

Any day that the doctors aren't poking or prodding is a good day, so today you're enjoying the day off by reading a book. You've stayed in bed since the room is unusually cold (HYDRA sometimes liked to be cruel and change up the temperature in the room), thumbs hooked through the holes of your long sleeves and blanket pulled up to your chest.

You've received breakfast and lunch on time leading you to believe the day is just like any other, mostly, so you're startled when the door hisses open and in walks a face you haven't seen in years.

"W-Wanda?" The book falls aside and you hesitantly stand up in disbelief.

"Hello, Y/N." She looks good. Almost as pretty as the day she and her brother walked freely into HYDRA's arms, and before they started the testing. You huff a laugh of awe before others walk in behind her, and your smile immediately drops. You scramble onto and across your bed, putting your back into the corner. "Wait!" Wanda pleads, holding the three newcomers behind her. "It's okay. They're friends. Remember the Avengers? The ones Strucker told us were bad?"

"Y-Yeah.."

"This is them. Well some of them." Heart beating faster, your gaze darts from one face to the next. The longer you take them in, the more you recognize them. There's the one they call Iron Man, the one they call Captain America, and the Black Widow. "They took me in after Pietro and I did everything to tear them apart, and now look at me. I'm an Avenger now."

"HYDRA said you went rogue." Wanda nods, smiling faintly. "I was proud of you."

Wanda shakily laughs, she stepping closer. Slowly, but surely, you come out of the corner to meet her halfway. "I am sorry I didn't look for you sooner. After Pietro died, I-"

"Pietro died?" Wanda nods, eyes tearing up. "I-I'm so sorry," you say. "He was- he was-"

"I know." Wanda pulls you into her arms and you let her hold you, your arms slowly wrapping around her as you shed a few tears for the boy who sometimes tried to console you through your own testing. "Come on. You can grieve on the jet. We need to go."

"Go? Go where?" Pulling back, you glance at the other three who are still lingering by the door.

"With us," Iron Man tells you. "And just so we're clear, what exactly is it that you do? Pietro had the whole speed thing going for him and Wanda is possibly the strongest Avenger, after me of course, but you? We're in the dark here."

"Oh. I, um, I-"

"She doesn't know," Wanda says, turning to face her team while holding you close to her side. "HYDRA did everything they could to her, but Y/N never displayed like Pietro and I. Unless they figured something out after..?"

You shake your head. "No. They never did. I think they were getting tired and were about to write me off as a failure."

"Well they're gone now." Wanda assures you. "So you're coming with us where you can properly recover and our doctors can look you over."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Positive." Captain America smiles at you, placing his shield on his back. "Any friend of Wanda's is a friend of ours."

You shakily nod and then startle when the Black Widow hands you your pair of slippers. You hadn't even seen her move and she flashes you a grin in apology. Then after you have on your slippers, you refuse to take anything else from the room. You want nothing of HYDRA.

Iron Man leads the way out with Captain America and Black Widow at your back. Wanda remains at your side, an arm around your shoulders as she tries to keep your attention so you don't see the bodies that are still strewn about.

You have to close your eyes against the sunlight and the fresh air feels heavenly that Wanda holds you just a little tighter.

"I know. I know," she murmurs.

You're led to a fancy looking jet where three other men are waiting. You freeze upon the sight of them, but Captain America is quick to clear the air.

"It's okay. They're Avengers too," he says. "That's Clint, Bruce, and Bucky, but you probably know them as Hawkeye, the Hulk, and-"

"The Winter Soldier," you mumble. The team, however, hear you and Bucky shifts uncomfortably. "HYDRA was really pissed when you went rogue. I was proud of you too," you say while cracking a smile.

Wanda chuckles as Bucky loosens up. "You are proud of anything that was a thorn in HYDRA's side."

"Of course. It was different for you and Pietro. You signed up for their testing. HYDRA plucked me from the streets and forced it on me, so anything that pissed them off was okay in my books."

You're placed on the jet while the others finish loading up, talking about how the mission went. Every time you ask a question about one of the Avengers, Wanda corrects you to use their real names instead of their superhero names.

Just before lift off, Clint approaches you with what appears to be a change of clothes. "Here's something of ours if you're interested. I bet you're just itching to get out of HYDRA clothing."

You accept them. "Do you have any long sleeves? I'm not- I'm not a fan of short sleeves."

"It's kind of warm out. Are you sure?"

Gulping, you nod as you set the clothes down in your lap. Taking a moment to think about it, you tuck in your thumbs and pull up your sleeves. "I'm sure." On display are your scarred arms, scars from where the doctors sliced in hopes of activating some sort of healing ability.

"Oh Y/N," Wanda sighs.

Clint stares, jaw clenching the longer he stares. You catch sight of Steve and Bucky staring, so you quickly pull your sleeves back down. "I'm fine with my clothes for now. I'll just change later."

"I, uh, I have a long sleeve if you're comfortable with wearing it," Clint says. Meeting his gaze, you eventually nod and he excuses himself to go retrieve it.

Wanda nudges you. "I think his fatherly instincts just kicked in."

You bite back a laugh, shaking your head. "Shut up."

The Avengers are everything you hoped for. They help acclimate you to being free and having choices again, and Wanda is there with you every step of the way when you have to visit with the doctors for weekly check-ins. They're all very interested to know what HYDRA did to you, but their testing is a lot more professional and they continuously ask you if you're okay with what they plan to do before actually doing it.

But since they have taken you in, the Avengers have also made it known that they'd prefer you to know some self defense just in case you ever needed to defend yourself. Reluctantly you agreed with them, and Natasha and Clint worked with you while Steve and Bucky offered advice from the sidelines.

Not every day was a good day, however, and sometimes you just didn't want to be disturbed. But when those episodes happened, it was Wanda and Clint who dragged you out for some fresh air. And when one of those episodes got really bad, Clint took you away for a weekend and it was then that you met his family. His wife Laura was the sweetest, and his three children were adorable. And out of his three children, it was Lila who you bonded with almost immediately.

Laura and Clint were glad to see you get along with the children, so it became a weekly visit. Then the two parents were just ecstatic when you and Wanda volunteered to watch the kids so they could have a date night.

You spend months with the Avengers, bonding and opening up to the superheroes and their family, but with your luck it was only a matter of time before things went sideways.

----------

The Avengers have taken over one of the public parks- essentially making it a large family day for anyone and everyone. Tony hired caterers to make all sorts of foods that could be eaten with just your hands, Steve and Bucky brought in all sorts of games and activities for the children to do, and Clint ended up flying in his family for the day.

You end up with Lila and Cooper, tossing a baseball back and forth as Laura keeps an eye on Nate nearby. Every Avenger is scattered about, interacting with the kids and just having a blast. One minute you're laughing at the brother and sister teasing one another, and the next gunshots are ringing out.

Lila and Cooper immediately run towards you, panic clear in their eyes as screams rip through the air, and you tuck them under your arms before heading for Laura who's screaming for her children. On your way towards her, you catch one of the gunmen taking aim in your general direction and you don't even think as you yank the kids to a stop before wrapping yourself around them as best as you can. You're practically curled around the kids when the shooting stops, the panicked civilians knocking you over in their rush to get out of the park.

You fall, taking Cooper and Lila with you, and then rolling off of them when you think you've hurt them. They're obviously crying, but Laura is soon there to try and soothe them. You're on your back, staring towards the sky when she asks if you're okay.

"Y/N? You alright? I can't thank you enough for being with the kids," she says, relieved.

With Nate settled on her hip, Lila and Cooper wrap themselves around their mother. You grin and shakily raise a hand to give her a thumbs up. "I'm-" You cough, seeing and feeling spittle fly. Only it's not spittle.

Laura's eyes widen. "Why are you coughing up blood? Did you get shot?!"

It's then the pain in your back hits you, but the pain is radiating from your back to your front. Your eyes tear up and you manage to lift your head to glance down at your chest where two spots of red are just blossoming.

"No, no, no," Laura mumbles. She turns around in a frantic, calling for her husband. "Clint! Clint, she's been shot!" She practically pushes Nate into Lila's arm, the younger girl taking her brother and pulling her other brother back with her when her dad and the others rush towards them. Laura drops to her knees. "Come on, Y/N, stay awake."

"What are we looking at here?" Clint asks as he drops on your other side. "I'm really sorry, Y/N, but I'm going to have to rip your shirt open." You nod and then cry out when the ripping jostles you. Clint swears. "Shit. Two gunshot wounds. Cap, we need to get her out of here asap."

"Move. I can help." You glance above Clint and see Wanda with her boyfriend Vision. The purple being is frowning down at you, but your gaze moves with Wanda as her eyes and right hand start to glow. She sends a pulse of red energy towards your chest, but you feel nothing. Wanda's brow furrows. "It's not- it is not working."

You cough again, blood splattering your chin, and Wanda works harder. You don't know how you know, but you know nothing they do will work. It's time. Gulping, you shakily reach for Wanda's hand. "I-It's okay." Wanda's hand stops glowing and her bottom lip wobbles. "It's okay."

"I have the suit," Tony says. "If I fly her right now-"

But you shake your head, cutting him off. "I'll still die." Tony clams up, jaw clenching as vulnerability seeps into his gaze. Everyone you've gotten to know since they've taken you in is gathered around. You stare at each and every one of them, offering them a bloody smile. "T-Thank you. For everything."

Your gaze remains on Wanda as your vision starts to blacken around the edges, the last thing you see being Wanda as she openly loses control of her emotions.

Vision is quick to squat behind Wanda and pull her back into his embrace, and Clint bows his head. Laura cries but keeps herself under control, she being the one to reach out and shut Y/N's eyes. She's also the one to close Y/N's shirt before getting up to her feet to console her children. Tony has Pepper reeled in close to him, Steve and Bucky are left staring in disbelief, and Natasha, Bruce, and Sam are doing their best to keep everyone else at bay.

Laura and Pepper eventually leave, taking the kids back to the Tower with Sam as their escort. The rest of the team stay to give statements about the suspects they apprehended and to get Y/N's body released to them asap.

"We can't move her," Bruce says once the cops have taken over and set a perimeter around them with yellow tape. They've even offered them a tarp to keep people from taking pictures of the body. "Not yet."

"Can we at least get a tent?" Wanda asks. "I don't like all the gawking."

The police proceed to take their sweet time getting the Avengers what they need, so Tony has something setup with all his fancy tech. Then within the privacy of the tent, everyone seems to sag and let the grief overtake their features once more.

As everyone mourns quietly, it's Natasha who notices the smoke. "Guys? What's going on?" Y/N's body starts to smoke more and more, and everyone's eyes widen. "Wanda, can you make it stop?"

Wanda hurries over and lets red energy envelop Y/N's body, but she still continues to smoke. "It's not working. Why isn't it working?"

Y/N's body then bursts into flames and everyone scrambles around. Wanda cannot put her body out, nor can any amount of patting with a spare blanket. But almost as soon as the flames started, they went out and left in Y/N's body's place is a cocoon of ash.

"What.. the hell?" Bucky murmurs.

Wanda is crying again, confusion obvious in her features as everyone tries to piece together what the hell just happened. Bruce goes to squat down for a closer observation, but Vision stops him. "Don't. I don't believe she is finished."

"Finished? What the hell do you mean by finished?" Tony asks.

Something within the ashes twitches and the whole team freezes. More movement is seen until a perfectly unblemished arm breaks free. Wanda gasps and hurries forward, dropping down to her knees as the cocoon where Y/N's face is cracks.

"Y/N?"

The cocoon continues to crack all over as Y/N starts to move more frequently, and Wanda helps her sit up.

"Aw hell, she's naked."

You blink rapidly at the now flustered Avengers standing around, accepting a blanket that Natasha wraps around your shoulders. "Um, guys? What happened?" The Avengers stare in awe and disbelief as the girl they watched die right before their very eyes is helped to her feet. Feeling a breeze has you rearranging the blanket to wrap all the way around you and under your arms, and it's then you realize every scar HYDRA ever gave you is now gone. "Wanda? Is- is this my power?"

Wanda is still speechless, so it's Vision who says, "Is anyone familiar with the myth of the Phoenix?"

You blink owlishly at the purple being, letting Wanda take one of your arms as she runs her fingers up and down smooth skin. And before anyone can really question what is going on, the sound of the crowd outside amps up. You look around in a panic, yelping when a rather large man enters the tent.

"Thor?" Steve muses. "What are you doing back on Earth?"

"Heimdall saw something. Something extraordinary," he breathes in awe. Though he answers Steve, his astonished gaze is dead set on you. "A Phoenix, as I live and breathe."

"Uh you know about this?" Tony asks.

"Can you help?" Wanda wonders, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Thor steps closer, his gaze now darting to your sides and above your head. "Magnificent."

"Uh, Pointbreak? What's going on?"

Thor snaps out of his awestruck demeanor, he chuckling and smiling sheepishly at you. "I'm sorry. I just- we thought your kind to be extinct."

"M-my kind?"

"A Phoenix. Mother has sent me to offer you sanctuary on Asgard. A Phoenix who has just risen has much to learn. We can help you, my lady."

You lean further into Wanda. "No."

"What?" Thor frowns. "But we can help you. You can learn to fight and to use your powers. You can read up on your history."

While his offer is intriguing, you can't help but feel a certain way. "I don't want to leave the people I've come to think of as family."

Clint sidles up to your other side, faintly grinning. Then looking at Thor, he asks, "Why can't she learn here? With us."

"Because a fledgling Phoenix learning control could be dangerous," Thor explains. "Your friend could stay here, but if she slips on her control it could be catastrophic for whatever part of Midgard she's in, including the people within her vicinity. But in Asgard, under the watchful eye of my Mother, all will be well."

Every person in the tent remains quiet and it's easy to see that they're all now having second thoughts. You really don't want to leave, but if what Thor is saying is true, then you don't want to hurt anyone or damage anything.

So realizing you have no other choice, you step forward. "I'll go."

"What? No," Wanda says. She steps forward with you, shaking her head. "If you go, I'm going with you."

"You need to stay." Smiling softly at your friend, you say, "Earth is going to need it's strongest Avenger. I- I don't know what my future holds, but I know it involves you and everyone else," you then say while staring at everyone gathered around, "but I just need to figure myself out first. And if that's in Asgard, then so be it. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Just so you're prepared," Bruce starts, anxiously rubbing the lens of his glasses with a small cloth, "time works differently in Asgard. Six months there would be a year here."

"So in other words, learn control as quickly as possible? Got it."

Wanda frowns. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. Not only do I want to, but I need to."

"So it's settled," Thor booms. "The fledgling comes to Asgard."

"Y/N," you say. "If we're going to do this, my name is Y/N."

"Of course. Apologies, my lady."

The sincerity in his voice and expression oddly makes you blush, and Wanda snickers when she catches sight of it. You nudge her in retaliation. "I'll go, but can someone please get me some clothes before I'm whisked away to another planet?"

"On it," Natasha muses. "I'll pick something up from the tower and inform the others."

"Okay. Thank you."

When Natasha leaves, Wanda gets you a chair to take a seat in. Bruce politely asks if he can check your vitals and you oblige him, knowing full well his scientist brain is all over the place with your resurrection. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Clint can't seem to stop hovering and you have to continuously smother your laughter when Steve lays a hand on your shoulder only to remember that you're naked under the blanket before snatching his hand back. He tries to play it off every time, but Wanda and Bucky see right through him.

Then when Natasha finally returns, she's not alone. Pepper, Laura, and the kids immediately form a group hug with you, and you let them hold you and cry until they're done. They have so many questions that you can't answer because you don't know how to.

Lila is the most vocal about you not leaving to Asgard when you tell them the plan, but you and Clint take turns assuring her that it's for the best. She eventually agrees and the team gives you a semblance of privacy so you can change.

Once done, the Avengers and family take turns giving you hugs. You shed your fair share of tears, especially with Wanda and Lila, and then you turn towards Thor. "Alright. I'm ready."

Asgard is completely breathtaking and overwhelming all at once. It had been a bit of a challenge in the beginning with everyone staring in awe at the mere sight of you, but you soon realized why when Queen Frigga explained. Fledgling Phoenixes could not hide their auras, so pretty much every Asgardian could see the aura of a fiery bird around your persons.

Queen Frigga personally watches over your intense training when she's not meditating with you, and you slowly adapt to the strict schedule in your temporary home. The Queen also gives you history lessons about your kind which leads you to asking if you're actually a true Phoenix. The experiments HYDRA did gave their subjects bastardized powers, so if they gave you the powers then how could you be a Phoenix?

But Queen Frigga squashes every one of your doubts with the help of Asgard's healers, and they tell you that creature blood has always ran through your veins. And because you had creature blood, it voided anything and everything HYDRA pumped into you. The Phoenix within had just been dormant up until the point of your death were it finally awakened and led you to evolving. And now that you had been awakened, there was no going back.

Six months had come and gone, and though you visited with Heimdall weekly to check up on the others back on Earth, you missed them like crazy. Thor had visited once and you made sure to send them souvenirs, he then coming back with letters and pictures from the team, and drawings from the kids. It was all bittersweet, but you knew Asgard was where you needed to be for now.

The training intensifies once you realize how to release your Phoenix powers without injuring innocent people standing nearby and how to reign it all back in, and once you get that under control the hand-to-hand comes a lot easier. The Warriors Three and Sif think it's a great honor to spar with you, and an even greater honor to see you in all your Phoenix glory when they eventually get their asses handed to them.

Another six months pass by meaning you've been gone from Earth for two years, so you're relieved when Sif brings word to you and Thor that Midgard is under an alien invasion that they're having trouble keeping up with.

You glance up at Queen Frigga, having been walking with her and Thor, and she smiles adoringly at you. "Go. You're ready."

She leads you over to a balcony overlooking her kingdom and Thor holds his hand out, summoning Mjölnir. He smiles leisurely. "Keep up, little Phoenix." He then runs and leaps off the balcony banister, catching Mjölnir midair and heading for the Bifrost Observatory.

Gathering up the skirt of your maroon dress, the shimmering wings that have been tattooed on your back unfurl into fiery masses as you roll your shoulders. Your eyes blaze a bright golden yellow and Frigga chuckles as she cups your face in the palm of her hands. "Go show my son that a woman can be just as powerful as he is, if not more."

You smirk and kick off your sandals, turning and rushing towards the banister. Fiery wings flap, lifting you into the air, and you speed towards Bifrost Observatory to go help your family.

----------

The Avengers are scattered about the city, comms being the only thing keeping them in touch with one another as they fight to contain the aliens and rescue as many civilians as they can. They are no stranger to alien invasions, and fortunately Tony and Bruce had enough satellites around the Earth's atmosphere to detect such a breach, but this invasion is a lot more organized than they're used to. Not even the combined efforts of Wanda and Vision can keep the aliens at bay.

"We need a plan," Clint pants, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. "We're losing ground here."

"What we need is a Hail Mary," Tony says. Flying overhead, he turns so he's facing the sky. "You hear that, oh watchful keeper of the Bifrost? Send us Pointbreak back!"

"His name is Heimdall," Natasha grunts. "If you want him to hear us, how about you use his name?"

"We're getting our asses handed to us, Romanoff. I'll use whatever damn name I please."

"Uh, guys?" Steve says. "I think Heimdall heard us."

Hulk roars off in the distance as a blue beam of light shoots down from the heavens. Thor flies out of it not a moment later, red cape billowing behind him. He emits short bursts of lightning bolts, lightning crackling outward the moment he lands in a crouch and slams Mjölnir onto the ground.

The aliens seem to go into a frenzy then and the Avengers all sigh as a collective.

"Of course Thor made it worse," Bucky groans.

Wanda lands next to Thor a moment later, fatigue weighing her down. Thor smiles down at her as she asks, "How is she?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Wanda's brow furrows before a screech can be heard resonating from within the Bifrost. She looks back just as an enormous fiery Phoenix soars out right after. The Phoenix makes a loop, screeching and fanning flames downward at the gathered aliens.

"Holy shit!" Clint practically shouts. "Is that Y/N?!"

The aliens start congregating, backing themselves into one another, back to back. The Phoenix targets them, flying circles around them, coming in tighter and tighter until there's a vortex of flames that disintegrates the enemies.

"She truly is magnificent, is she not?" Thor beams.

With the aliens distracted and flocking towards the newer and bigger threat, the Avengers rush to meet up. Everyone tiredly greets Thor before going back to watch the fiery bird do damage to the aliens' numbers.

"One year in Asgard and she's learned all that?" Tony wonders.

"Aye. She took her training very seriously. If my Father were still alive, he'd have been pleased with her attitude towards learning."

The Phoenix lands not too far from the Avengers, but close enough to see her glowing eyes and her veins glowing like embers beneath her skin. An alien makes a beeline right for her, but instead of panicking Y/N merely holds her arm up, palm out, and the alien disintegrates mid-run.

Bucky whistles appreciatively. "Am I the only one glad she's on our side?"

Steve chuckles. "Nope."

Not another alien takes its chance, so Y/N reigns in her wings. They disappear back into tattoo form and Y/N stands there barefoot, her Asgardian dress billowing around her legs as she walks back towards those she's come to call family.

"Done already?" Thor muses.

"Thought I'd let you have some fun," you tease. "Can't have you running back to your Mother complaining that I didn't let you play."

"Funny." Thor starts to twirl Mjölnir, chuckling. "But I'll take what I can get."

Thor lifts off, raining down lightning at the scattering aliens.

"Y/N?" You glance towards Wanda, smiling faintly. "Are you okay?"

"Never better, little witch." You wink and she starts to laugh, closing the distance between you to embrace you.

"You're only twelve weeks older. I am not so little."

The team chuckles, everyone then taking turns to greet you in some form. Clint's the only other one to embrace you, his hug tight and relief obvious.

"Not to cut this reunion short," Tony says, "but I think Thor can use a helping hand. Lets show these aliens that Earth's not a planet to be messed with."

"As if you even had to ask," you say.

Fiery wings unfurling once more, you hover midair, smiling when Wanda joins you.

"Ready, witch?"

"Ready, little bird."

Steve chuckles, tightening the strap of his shield on his forearm. "Avengers! Assemble."

#marvel gen fic x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #wanda maximoff #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #thor odinson #fanficimagery #imagine

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sing-a-sirensong · 3 years

Text

Breaktime

A short and sweet pwp for Simon/Markus

Summary: Markus pulls Simon away from his work for a (not so quick) break. Rating: E Warnings: None

On AO3 here

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Simon leans over his desk, staring blankly at the documents strewn across it. He’s been working in his room all day. His own, private, room. An arrangement that Simon is still getting used to, having his own space like this.

After the successful revolution, Carl Manfred had insisted that Markus ‘give your friends a place to stay, this damn house is too big and empty for one old man’ and hadn’t left much room for argument. North and Josh also have their own rooms in the, frankly enormous, house. But, more often than not, their duties would call them elsewhere, sometimes for days at a time.

Simon however, prefers mundane paperwork to dealing directly with other people. The others work plenty with the general public, Markus especially, so Simon spends most of his time at his desk peacefully working on drafts and bills.

Perhaps peacefully isn’t quite the right word. Simon scrunches his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, willing away the uncomfortable pressure that has persisted there for hours now. Who knew that androids could get headaches? Although Simon supposes it was likely that a constant stream of dry legal material would be capable of giving anyone a headache.

Simon is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the door, and startles at the feeling of arms wrapping around his middle. He quickly relaxes into the familiar embrace.

“Markus,” he breathes, smiling. “I didn’t hear you come in.” A chuckle rumbles in Simon’s ear.

“I’m not surprised,” Markus says. “You were so focused on your work I was a little concerned you were about to start burning holes through that desk.” Simon holds down a smile and playfully elbows backwards, aiming for Markus’s ribs. He misses.

“I would’ve mentioned before now if I had laser eyes. Something like that would’ve come in handy during our revolution, don’t you think?” Simon gripes, no real heat behind his words. Markus smothers a laugh between Simon’s shoulder blades.

“I think it may have helped speed things along a little, yes.” He jokes.

“Maybe then you wouldn’t have driven a damn truck through that storefront window.” Simon grumbles. Markus laughs again, deep and rich, arms tightening around Simon’s waist.

“You know I get into trouble when you’re not around.” He teases lightly, brushing a soft kiss behind Simon’s ear. Simon steadfastly ignores how his insides turn to goo at the simple action. Markus hooks his chin over Simon’s shoulder, glancing at the mess of papers on the desk. “What are you working on?” He asks. Simon sighs.

“It’s a draft for the Android Emergency Services project.” Simon explains. “It needs to be submitted to the city council by the end of next week and I promised Josh I would look over it for him.” Markus hums at that.

“By ‘look over it’ do you actually mean look over it, or do you mean write and edit the entire thing yourself?” Markus prods. Simon tries not to fidget too much, subconsciously gnawing his lip anyways. “You don’t have to take on so much by yourself, you know.” Markus says gently. Simon sighs again, placing his hands over Markus’s.

“I know,” he starts, “But Josh has been so busy with his proposal on the treatment of android children, and he’s been sending all those requests to the local school boards and-“ Markus interrupts him.

“I had almost the entire afternoon free today, my meeting finished early. Why didn’t you come to me to help you with it?” He asks, dropping a few light kisses along Simon’s shoulder. Simon melts into him, automatically tilting his head to allow Markus better access.

“I wanted you to have the break.” Simon says weakly. “You’ve been working nonstop for weeks, and I wanted to be helpful.” Markus lifts one hand to lace their fingers together, laying a line of kisses up Simon’s throat.

“You’re more than helpful, Si, always.” He murmurs against warm skin, his breath sending shivers up Simon’s spine. The nickname sends his thirium pump stuttering, a giddy feeling settling warm and soft under his ribs.

“You work so hard all the time and you hardly rest.” The hand not tangled with Simon’s slips under the hem of his sweatshirt, warm fingers sweeping lightly across his belly. Simon’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation. “You deserve a break too, you know.” Markus’s voice is low and sweet, covering Simon like thick honey as he sinks into it.

“Markus…” He breathes, the rest of his words vanishing as he lays his head back to rest on Markus’s shoulder. Markus hums softly, nosing under Simon’s jaw to suck a hot, openmouthed kiss into the sensitive skin there. Simon can’t help the quiet moan that escapes, heat curling low in his abdomen.

“Come on Si,” he urges, “Take a break.” The hand on Simon’s stomach flattens and stills, holding him in place. The other hand, still tangled with Simon’s, slides down and cups their shared grip against the front of his pants, pressing down firmly. Simon whines, his free hand flying up to clutch at the back of Markus’s neck. “For me?” Markus asks sweetly, his soft tone a stark contrast to the hand that’s quickly unravelling Simon’s focus.

“Yeah,” Simon pants, “I could ahh- I could do that.” He moans, rocking forward into his own palm pressed tight between his legs by Markus’s hand. The friction sends sparks of pleasure across his wiring, but it’s not nearly enough. Distantly, Simon feels his self-lubrication protocols activate and he dismisses the notification.

“Please,” he breathes, paperwork forgotten entirely.

“Anything you want sweetheart,” Markus croons, “Anything.” Simon flushes with heat at the endearment, hiding his face under Markus’s chin.

“Kiss me?” He manages to ask weakly, and Markus releases him, giving him room to turn. Simon spins around quickly, cupping Markus’s face in his hands. His fingers stroke reverently over hand-painted freckles and artificial stubble. Markus settles one hand on Simon’s waist, pulling him in, the other sliding into his hair to guide their lips together.

Simon sighs against Markus’s mouth, eyes closing and lips parting immediately to deepen the kiss. He moans softly at the feel of Markus’s tongue against his own, knees going weak as Markus licks into his mouth. He presses closer, draping his arms around Markus’s neck and sucking greedily on his tongue. He swallows the small noise that escapes Markus, desperate to taste more.

Simon loves kissing Markus, would never stop if he could. Markus kisses with a careful thoroughness, like it’s a task that needs all of his concentration to accomplish. Being at the centre of that focus is dizzying.

Hands slide down to grip the backs of Simon’s thighs and Markus lifts him like he weighs nothing, breaking the kiss with a wet pop. Simon automatically hooks his ankles behind Markus and takes in the look on his face. His lips are wet and shiny, mismatched eyes hooded with desire. Simon isn’t much better, cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.

“Simon,” Markus starts, voice low and soft. Simon’s gaze slides back to Markus’s mouth and he dips down to kiss him again, cutting off whatever else Markus planned to say. He tilts his head for a better angle and sucks on Markus’s bottom lip, revelling in the low noise Markus makes. “Si,” he groans, “Can we- the bed?” He manages to rasp out between kisses and Simon nods briefly, their noses brushing together. Markus turns them and walks to the bed, setting one knee on the mattress and tipping them down onto the sheets.

Simon lets out a happy sigh when Markus’s weight settles on top of him, arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep him there. But Markus resists the hold, leaning back and huffing out a small laugh.

“Clothes, Simon.” He says, amused, pointedly grinding their covered erections together. Simon tosses his head back with a moan, hips jerking up at the friction dulled through the layers of fabric.

“Yeah,” he gasps, voice tinged with laughter, “I forgot about that part. Kind of important, isn’t it?” Markus chuckles and reaches back to pull his shirt over his head. Simon is momentarily stunned, distracted by smooth brown skin and broad shoulders. He shakes out of his stupor and yanks his own shirt off, struggling briefly as it catches on his ears. He hears Markus laugh. “Shut up.” He grumbles, fighting down a smile, and chucks his shirt in Markus’s direction. He catches it easily. After some clumsy shuffling and giggles, they’re both finally naked.

Markus settles back between Simon’s legs, dropping down to reconnect their mouths. Simon groans at the contact, thighs squeezing Markus’s hips. The kiss is heated but brief as Markus moves on to drop kisses across his collarbones and chest, sliding lower. He places featherlight kisses around the indentation of Simon’s pump regulator and Simon squirms, a small whimper caught in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you.” Markus breathes, eyes flickering up to meet Simon’s. “Let me take care of you?” He asks, so earnest. He’s always like this, always asking permission, asking if Simon is okay. As if Simon would ever want to refuse him anything. He nods, already burning with arousal and desperate for Markus’s hands to be on him.

Markus continues lower, sucking a line of kisses down the sensitive skin of Simon’s inner thigh. A gentle scrape of teeth has Simon shuddering, wishing desperately that Markus could leave a mark.

“You’re so good Simon,” Markus says, voice low. “So pretty, laid out like this.” Simon whines, systems lighting up at the praise, erection beading against his belly. Markus sucks hard at the junction between his hip and thigh, and Simon jolts.

“Markus,” he pants, “You d-don’t-” He breaks off on a moan as Markus switches to the other thigh, mouthing hot and wet down to the same spot on the opposite side before he worries it with his teeth.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Markus asks lowly, his voice buzzing across Simon’s skin and sending shivers up his spine.

“Touch me.” Simon begs. “Markus, please.” And Markus finally complies, closing his fingers around Simon’s cock and giving him a slow tug. Simon moans, hips thrusting as Markus swipes his thumb over the tip, slowly smearing the synthetic precome against heated skin.

“Look at you,” Markus purrs, stroking him slowly. “Being so good for me, aren’t you?”

And Simon sobs, nodding helplessly. He feels so close to overheating already, and they’ve barely even started.

Markus’s hand is slick with how much Simon is leaking and he squeezes lightly, twisting his wrist as Simon’s cock slides through his grip, fingers slipping over the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” Simon gasps, back arching as Markus repeats the motion.

“Does that feel good sweetheart?” Markus coos, dark and soft like velvet. His voice has Simon writhing against the sheets, whining as he threads his fingers into his own hair in a desperate effort to ground himself. He pants, expelling heated puffs of hair.

Simon’s cock throbs in Markus’s hand, his thumb teasing just under the head as more words of filthy praise spill from his lips. Simon chokes on a static-filled moan, grasping blindly at Markus’s arm. His hips are rocking with Markus’s long pulls, chasing the delicious friction. The pace is torturous, but it’s so so good and Simon’s processors are scrambling to keep up with the waves of pleasure rushing through his circuits.

Markus releases him, and Simon sucks in a few shaky breaths, trying to regain his bearings. He jolts suddenly at the feeling of a finger petting at his entrance, spreading the lubricant that’s leaking out of him. He rocks his hips down instinctively, encouraging Markus to continue.

“Yes,” he gasps, spreading his legs wider. “Markus yes I want- ohhh.” His words dissolve into moans as Markus easily slips two fingers inside, stroking Simon’s inner walls. “More, please.” He pants.

Markus hums against his throat, carefully sliding in a third finger. “You’re doing so well, taking my fingers like this.” He curls them slowly, punching a hoarse cry out of Simon. “So warm and tight,” he praises, “You’re going to feel amazing around my cock.” Simon whines, clenching down on the fingers inside him. He doesn’t need to be prepared like this, but Markus loves it, loves watching Simon fall apart underneath him.

The sounds of Markus’s fingers slowly fucking in and out of him fill the room, wet and obscene. Simon flushes with embarrassment, crossing his arms over his face. Markus slides his free hand up, moving Simon’s arms away and dropping delicate kisses across his burning cheeks.

“You’re lovely,” he says sweetly, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me.” He twists his fingers, pressing deep and circling his fingers over the spot that sends Simon to pieces.

“Oh, fuck,” Simon says brokenly, shoving his hips down into Markus’s hand.

“Right there?” Markus teases, not letting up. Simon sobs, toes curling at the unrelenting internal massage.

“Markus-“ he pants, “Markus, fuck, please. I- I’ll come if you don’t stop.” He pleads. He whines at the loss when Markus stops and slides his fingers out.

“Next time you can come on my fingers.” He promises, and Simon shudders. “Ready?” Simon nods, and he watches as Markus gives himself a few quick strokes, lips parting in pleasure, before lining himself up.

Simon tosses his head back as Markus presses into him, trembling at the stretch. He gasps at the slow drag of Markus’s cock working him open, not stopping until his hips are pressed flush to Simon’s ass. Markus’s length is thick, and hot, and perfect, and Simon clenches down, whining at the fullness.

“Fuck,” Markus curses, “You’re perfect.” He presses his hips forward, grinding deep, and Simon scrabbles to find purchase on his shoulders. He sucks on the skin of Simon’s throat and moves his hips back, sinking back in achingly slowly. Simon squeezes his legs around Markus’s waist, rolling his hips to meet each thrust.

“God, Simon,” Markus groans, sucking more kisses along Simon’s collarbone. “You’re so beautiful.” Simon shudders and whimpers, heat warnings flashing across his vision.

Markus pulls him closer, thrusting harder, and Simon cries out, voice edged with static. Simon’s cock brushes Markus’s belly with every roll of his hips, each thrust tearing a moan from Simon’s throat, the pleasure building between his legs almost unbearable.

“You close, Si?” Markus asks breathlessly, pace unrelenting. Simon can only nod and whine, his HUD quickly becoming overcrowded with system alerts and error messages. “Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” And Simon sobs, oh he wants to come so badly he can only think yes, and please, and Markus, but he can’t form the words.

But Markus understands, keeping his thrusts steady as he reaches between them and jerks Simon’s cock with short, tight strokes. It’s too much, too much, and Simon’s spine arches when he comes. He wails as the wave of pleasure crashes over him, clenching hard around the thick length inside him, spilling messily over Markus’s fingers. His limbs jerk and tremble as Markus milks him, hardware struggling as the overwhelming impulses wracking his sensors edge his system towards an emergency reboot.

Markus finally lets up, hips losing their rhythm as he moans into Simon’s shoulder.

“Simon, fuck, Simon.” He groans, hips stuttering to a stop deep inside Simon. He distantly feels Markus coming, shaking and moaning Simon’s name.

They stay there for a moment, systems recalibrating. Markus recovers first, brushing Simon’s hair out of his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Simon makes a soft noise of displeasure when Markus pulls out, grabbing weakly for his arm when he stands.

“We have to get cleaned up.” He huffs, amused. Simon grumbles softly, not relinquishing his grip on Markus’s wrist. Markus relents, chuckling, and grabs his discarded t-shirt for a perfunctory wipe down. He settles back on the bed and Simon curls against his side, hooking one leg over Markus’s thigh and draping an arm over his chest. “You know you’re going to be cranky about this later, right?

“Don’t care.” Simon mumbles, smushing his face into Markus’s chest. His processors are still sluggish, running diagnostics in the background to clear up any lingering errors. Markus’s fingers trail gently up and down his spine.

“You’re very cute when you’re cuddly.” Markus teases, grinning when Simon flushes with embarrassment and hides his face further. He presses a kiss to the top of Simon’s head, laughing softly.

“Should get some rest, Si.” He murmurs, and Simon makes a noise that sounds like vague agreement, falling easily into stasis. Markus noses softly into Simon’s hair before he follows suit.

#sira writes #simarkus #fanfic #detroit become human #dbh markus #dbh simon

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terrifictomholland · 4 years

Note

Hi, could you do this one: 15. “Forget the bed. Let’s fuck right here.” - thirsttrapholland😉

Hi my love! I hope you’ll like this! 💕

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Tom and you had been away with his family, up in the mountains skiing for a week. The entire family plus Tom and you had been staying in the villa you rented. All of you under a single roof, there was a definite lack of privacy there, so whenever Tom and you felt like getting frisky there was just no chance of that happening. It was driving you insane sleeping beside him, tangled together but still not able to touch him the way you wanted to.

All you wanted was some good dicking-down. You knew Tom wanted you the same way, each morning when you woke up his hard cock pressed against your thigh and you were about to cry if that happened one more time and you couldn’t get his cock.

Finally, it happened when Tom and you had been snowboarding all day and you were finishing up the day back in the villa. For once, you were completely alone having gotten back from your activity way earlier than the rest. All you had to do was share a look with Tom,

“Forget the bed. Let’s fuck right here.” He smirked and you grinned looking around, you were by the kitchen table playing cards and you quickly forfeited the game climbing up on the table.

Hygenic? Fuck no. Did you care? Not in the slightest.

All you cared about at this point was Tom and him touching you.

“Oh god yes, I can’t take it anymore.” You breathed right before he crashed his lips onto yours, pulling you by the back of your legs against him.

He laid you down on the table, crawling on top of you and you let out a moan when he rutted against you. His cock poking your pussy through your clothes making you moan.

“I- ah fuck, I won’t last long,” You mumbled against his lips, quickly ridding him of his clothes as he did the same to you.

“Neither will I baby,” He promised, his hands cupping your tits and you moaned. You were such a sucker for having your tits played with, it had you soaked in seconds and Tom knew that damn well.

“So worked up for me already,” He smirked rolling your nipples between his fingers noticing the way you were already panting.

“Mmh yes baby,” Your shut your eyes and reached your hand down jerking him off, feeling him thicken up even more in your hand and that all-consuming fire started in the pit of your stomach when he let out those delicious tiny little gasps and whines in your neck.

“Want you babyboy,” You murmured squeezing his cock at the base hearing the low growl leave his lips.

“Oh fuck, you can have me.” He easily surrendered and you grinned scooting closer to the edge of the table where he was. Laying down and splaying yourself out for Tom. A shiver rolling through you as he gripped your hip with one hand and the other held his cock, lining it up against your folds spreading them.

“A-ah yes,” Your body clenched in anticipation when he ran his cock all over your pussy and clit.

“Fuck, stop the teasing and fuck me,” You moaned bringing him down to you by locking your legs around his hips and fingers dug into his back as he finally thrusted into you. Both of you letting out a deep and satisfied moan when he fucked into you all the way, relishing in the pleasure you could bring each other.

“Fuck baby, so, so tight for me,” He grunted as his hold on your hips tightened while he found his pace and rhythm.

“So are yo- oh shit baby! Yes!” You cried out letting your nails dig even further in when he angled his hips up and drilled into you, right off the bat finding your spot.

Your jaw slackened and eyes squeezed shut as he picked up his pace, fucking into you with enough force to have the entire table jolt.

“Yeah? That good baby?” He smirked through ragged breaths and you whined nodding.

“F-fuck so good,” You cried loudly arching your body against his feeling the coil tightening far too quickly in the pit of your stomach, you knew you weren’t going to last long.

Especially not with the way he was fucking you right now. He was hitting all of the right places and spots inside of you to make your tummy clench and toes curl.

“T-tom oh god, I’m close,” You moaned feeling the thin layer of sweat cover your body and you brought his face down kissing him deeply. His fingers finding your clit,

“Fuck yeah baby,” He growled against your mouth rubbing your clit faster and harder, “Cum for me.” Those words were enough for your pussy to clench down and you felt that warmth flood throughout you and the white hot pleasure surge through your whole body from your head to your toes.

“Tom!” You cried loudly shaking and convulsing underneath him. Your thighs shaking like mad as you felt him cum inside of you, deep.

“Fuck! Oh my god,” He grunted as he shook, still releasing inside of you, resting his head on your chest panting.

“Mmh fuck yeah,” You hummed feeling very sated and happy, rubbing his back lazily.

“That was so good,” He whispered pressing gentle kisses over your chest and you hugged him close to you, craving his lips on yours so you brought his face up so that you could lock lips with him.

“Wanna jump into the shower? Clean up before they’re back?” He murmured, you knew it was for the best so you nodded.

“Carry me?” You begged sweetly and he let out a small laugh getting up off of you and he easily picked you up.

“Oh wow, we made quite a mess,” You giggled seeing the table and he laughed too,

“We’ll clean up, it can be our secret.” He winked making that fire reignite in your belly knowing that you’d fucked on the table only moments ago.

“I love secrets with you,” You murmured sweetly, bringing his mouth back to yours.

taglist - @exitsali96ivette @localfangirlx @siriuslyslyslytherin @shaharloni1 @averyfosterthoughts @unicorn-princess-1999 @softbaby-tom @alwaysbenhardysgirl @hazmyheart @awesomelupe @worldoftom @parkeraul @howdyho-holland @angelic-holland

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x female reader #my blurbs #request

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southsidestory · 4 years

Text

Caged

RATING: Explicit

FANDOM: Hunger Games

SHIP: Odesta

WARNINGS: Rape/non-con, drug use, forced sex work

SUMMARY: Annie’s Victory Tour brings her to the Capitol, with Finnick at her side. He did his job as her mentor when he got her out of the arena, but he can’t look after her anymore. All he can do is play the part Snow has given him. It’s almost simple now, posing for the cameras and obeying his patrons, all with a smile on his face. Pretending is so easy that he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. But Annie might be able to remind him.

Read on AO3

With his lips closed, Dionysus looks plain by Capitol standards. Pasty skin, undyed and free of tattoos. Short brown hair, black shoes, dark suit. Colorless, except for the trio of yellow tablets in his palm. My throat itches to swallow down the promise they hold, but I have two questions that need answering.

First: “Will I be able to fuck?”

The dealer laughs, revealing a mouth full of gold and gems. “Like a damn rabbit,” Dionysus says.

Second: “I want to feel nothing, but a good nothing. Can this do that?”

Sapphires flash on his eye teeth. “You’ll see nirvana,” he promises.

I don’t know what that is, or where it might be, but any place would be better than this one.

Red. That’s all I see, at first. Waves and folds of the color spilling down the length of Annie’s skirt. Six feet of fabric fans out behind her, but the top of the dress is spare, sheer wisps that cling to her breasts and shoulders and throat.

“Inspired,” says Sabina. “Her stylist has an eye for drama.”

Her stylist will be lucky to have eyes at all when I’m done with him.

I take a flute of turquoise champagne from a passing Avox’s tray. It tastes like turpentine and sugar, the medicine that District Four mothers force down their children’s sore throats. I drink three glasses in ten minutes. Red still bleeds along the edges of my vision, and no matter where I turn, there’s Annie. Trussed up for Capitol appetites, tribute all over again. When I reach for another glass Sabina touches her too-long nails to my wrist. Tap, tap: bad dog. She kisses me, tongue sour blue slick, and I imagine what a senator’s wife might look like if three weeping mouths opened in the middle of her chest.

Something tugs at my shirt sleeve, jealous but gentle. Annie, drowning in all that District One silk.

“I need you,” she says. Splattered droplets dot her left cheek, a constellation of freckles that shine crimson-wet in the low light.

“Everyone needs me tonight.”

Sabina laughs and Annie pulls away, so I know I've said the wrong thing. That’s what happens when I put pills in my mouth; nothing but mistakes come out.

I say, “Teenage girls,” and give my date a knowing smile. Let her read what she wants into that.

Sabina twines her fingers around my arm and leans in close, smug and conspiratorial. “My daughter’s at that age now. It’s all me, me, me! And they want everything immediately. Nothing pleases them…”

How this is any different from the rest of the Capitol I can’t guess, but I let her go on, nodding and humming my sympathy where appropriate. Oh yes, they’re selfish little brats. Ungrateful, never satisfied. When Sabina pauses to sample a canapé I say how much I hate to leave her for even a moment, but I am Annie’s mentor. Duty calls and all that.

Sabina frowns prettily. “I hope you're this dedicated in all of your pursuits.”

She should know the answer to that already. This isn’t our first date. Still, I feed her a stock innuendo about finishing the things I start.

“Go on then, but be back soon!”

I find my tribute talking to the light crew. A woman with tattooed vines climbing the side of her shaved head shows Annie how to hold a sheet of foil. It’s a clever way to hide from the cameras and I wish I’d thought of it first. Too late for that, because Annie turns her silver shield, and then there’s a lens blinking closer to my well-lit face.

“Perfect,” says Vines. “You’re a natural.”

Annie shakes her head. “No. He’s just an easy target.”

I duck into the bright circle of the light crew’s equipment before the cameras can focus. The heat feels artificial, claustrophobic, like the solar beds my stylist makes me visit. Annie returns the foil to Vines and thanks her for the lesson. I can’t breathe again until there’s ten feet between me and the clicking insect sound of mechanical eyes.

“I thought you were busy,” Annie says. Her voice is so light and casual that, if I didn’t know her, I’d have no idea that she’s annoyed.

“I shouldn't have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

Annie shrugs. “You never mean anything you say in the Capitol.”

Sometimes I forget how much she sees, this girl who’s turned my world upside down in six months. “Where are your tokens?”

Annie grasps at the place over her heart where two sea glass pendants always rest. She looks mildly surprised to catch only empty air between her fingers. “Vibius wouldn’t let me wear them. Said the colors...” She shakes her head, the way you would to get water out of your ears after swimming. “I’m hungry.”

But when I follow her to a banquet table she doesn’t eat a bite. Instead, she stacks gingerbread cubes around a pink chocolate fountain.

“Who’s your date?” she asks.

“Senator Wexler’s wife,” I say.

Annie never looks up, too busy skewering blueberries on toothpicks. She sticks them in the topmost layer of her curtain wall, like heads on neighboring spikes. Two by two by two. Then she says, “Doesn’t the senator mind?”

“Only that he couldn’t come with us.”

Annie tips over the fountain, and chocolate bursts through her gingerbread dam. It creeps along the aisle of white cloth and drips onto the floor. Part of me wants to scold her, because some Avox will have to clean all this up after the party. I don’t, though, because I know how everything shifts after the Games. You might leave the arena, but it comes with you all the same. Alliances replace friendships. Sleep never really comes easy again, because too many things are still awake in the dark. Survival is tangled up with fighting, hurting, killing, and sometimes you need small destructions just to breathe.

“Dance with me,” Annie says.

The train on that fucking dress is longer than she is. “How could I, with you in that?”

I laugh. Everything and nothing seems funny at the same time. Annie jumps a little when I finger one of the slivers of silk covering her chest. Vibius didn’t leave much to the imagination, so I can see the shape of her. Small teardrop breasts, narrow shoulders, long waist. Her nipples peak beneath the fabric.

Somewhere in my periphery a camera flashes.

“Stop,” Annie says, and I want to shake her. That word doesn’t mean anything in this city. A victor should understand the rules by now.

I trace her collarbone. We’re too far away for Sabina to see us, but even if she does it won’t matter. This is what they want me to be.

The preps painted Annie’s lips too, and it makes her look like a working girl. Ripe apple mouth ready to be plucked. If I could I’d spit on a napkin and wipe it all away, same as my mother used to do to get dirt off my face.

She leans into my touch and asks, “Why are you with that woman?”

“Because she can afford my company.”

Annie’s red, red mouth frowns, but I simply smile and step away, tell her to eat something and enjoy the party.

Sabina welcomes me with a soft hello peck to my cheek. I turn it into more, the kind of wet, deep kiss that decent folk back home wouldn’t dream of doing in public. But that’s how I like it, even if I can hear the cameras snapping behind and beside and in front of me. Pretending is so easy that I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.

These sounds are almost lost beneath the snap of handcuffs closing: footsteps, a full skirt whispering across the floor, the creak of hinges.

The manacles lock around my wrists, pulling my arms taut, stretching until my shoulders lift from the bed and I can feel the blades angling outward. Like clipped wings opening, Sabina said, the first time she bought me. A caged bird poised to take flight. Now she leans forward and bites my neck, just hard enough to mark. It’s always hard enough to mark with Sabina, whether she uses teeth or nails or the back of her hand.

I hear feather-light fabric brushing the carpet, then see something in the gap between door and frame. The briefest flash of red silk. There, then gone.

Sabina strikes me hard on the cheek. Pain vibrates through my jaw and up the side of my face. Stars burst behind my eyes, then in front of them, but I don’t feel distant or dizzy. Everything becomes sharper, brighter. Needles made of sunlight prick my vision, highlighting it all with stinging intensity. If I ever come down I’m going to kill Dionysus for selling me those three little pills the color of daffodils. He promised oblivion but gave me this instead. With every blow the room grows brighter, until all I see is Sabina, haloed in white.

Her mouth closes over me, warm and soft, drawing out all the things I don’t want to give. Then she’s straddling my lap, hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. Ten welts spring beneath her touch, bright as pink ribbons down my chest. It’s winter everywhere but between her legs, and there she’s fever hot. Cold snakes down my throat, chokes and burrows inside me until it’s snowing under my skin.

“Finnick,” she hisses. I grip the bedposts and snap my hips up to meet her. I’m shaking from the chill air, the pleasure where a warm body takes mine in and the pain everywhere else. I don’t stop, not until she arches and trembles, mouth open on a whiny cry.

One beat, two, and she climbs off. Leaves me aching, tied up, and filthy while she saunters to the bathroom to refresh herself.

The haze clears, unfreezes, and I remember where I’ve seen red silk tonight.

I scrub until the scratch marks on my chest reopen and the water blushes down the drain, washing away smudged makeup and sweat, fresh blood and Sabina’s come. Not mine, and even though I’m half-hard, I’m mostly thankful. Dates are always worse when a client makes me finish. Steam fills the shower stall, wet and suffocating. Flash-bulbs go off behind my closed eyelids and all I can hear is the endless snapping of camera shutters. I sit on the tile floor, head between my knees, until the water grows cold.

After I get out of the shower and dry off, I pull on the tight blue pants from my date with Sabina and go to Annie’s room. I don’t knock, and when I step inside she jumps. Her dress is curled up in the corner, wilting. All those red folds remind me of a rose, so I turn away. Free of make-up, Annie’s face shines brown and clean. Dark waves fall limply around her cheeks, weighted and damp. By the way she holds the robe over her breasts I can tell she’s not wearing much underneath.

Good. I hope she feels naked. Exposed and vulnerable, like I do.

“You watched us.”

Annie sits on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up close to her body. She whispers an apology I can’t stand to hear.

“Don’t,” I say. She flinches and grasps the sea glass tokens around her neck. Her eyes dart away, focusing on some point along the baseboard.

“Look at me.” I kneel on the floor before her, too close to be ignored. “You didn’t have any trouble looking before.”

The only small mercy I can find is that Annie left before Sabina actually fucked me. But she saw me handcuffed to the bed, and that’s bad enough.

Annie bites her bottom lip, and for a moment all I can see is this same skittish girl, more innocent and less broken, on a different train, blushing under my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “When I saw you leaving with that woman—I didn’t really think, I just wanted to know what was so special about her. So I followed you.”

I thought she wanted to see me, and I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. It’s a good thing that she didn’t want a peep show, that she ran off before she saw the main event. A good thing—but it still pisses me off.

I wrap my hands around her calves and slide down, thumbs grazing the soft skin of her inner ankles.

“Finnick?” Her lips linger on the sound, not quite closing over the question she’s made of my name.

“Open your legs,” I tell her. Because whatever she’s asking, this is the only answer I have to give.

Annie’s breath hitches. She trembles all the way down to her toes, but she’s warm, my girl. I brought her home and that makes Annie mine. She belongs to me in the same way I belong to my sponsors.

When she doesn’t move, I kiss the inside of her right knee, flicking my tongue over a new scar there—a pretty pink thing that’s cropped up since her Games—until her legs shake and unlock. Just as she falls open and willing below the waist, Annie clutches the collar of her robe even more tightly, keeping it closed to me.

Eighteen isn’t so young, I remind myself. Not here, not in this place.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and that’s all I need.

Beads of moisture cling to the dark curls between her legs. She smells like the Capitol, flowers and spun sugar, but when I put my mouth there all I taste is salt and wet and girl. Her hands scramble for purchase, first on the covers, then in my hair, and she pulls with more strength than I expected. Not as sharply as Sabina, but enough to smart. That’s been done to me so many times that I know it means more and now and harder—though by the way Annie’s thumb brushes over my cheek, I think it might also mean please.

No, eighteen isn’t too young for this, but I might be.

I can feel her looking: eyes on me, on my body, on the things I’m doing. Just like before, when she peeked into that bedroom and watched Sabina getting her money’s worth, and it stirs something ugly and angry in the pit of my stomach. So I pull away, let my mouth part from her with a goodbye kiss cruel enough to make her whine and tug on my hair, to say my name again. No question this time, just a soft plea.

I’m sick of being on my knees, and really, there’s no reason I can’t do what I want. No reason at all. When I stand, Annie’s eyes go to my chest, flickering across the stripes Sabina’s fingernails left behind. I strip off my pants, and her gaze lowers, lingers.

Beneath the robe I find her pliant and panting. Skin damp, nipples hard, breath coming fast and shallow. Greedy, grasping, her touch falls with selfish hunger, and in this Annie isn’t unlike my other lovers. Long legs wrap around my waist, anchoring me to her. She’s warm and wet, whimpering in a way that might sound pitiful if it wasn’t making me so hard. I press against her, teasing. Those little mewling noises grow stronger, tighten together into a full-throated moan.

“Have you ever done this before?” I ask.

Annie shakes her head, then says, “Almost, once, but…”

Her eyes go distant, and she’s about to slip away from me. Retreat to some inner place where her district partner still lives and loves, but I’m not going to let her mind wander, not now when our bodies are tangled up together. I kiss her, our first, and that’s so backwards that I almost laugh.

Beneath my mouth Annie takes a deep, gasping breath. Then she peppers kisses everywhere she can reach. My brow, both cheeks, the tip of my nose. My lips, again and again. The curve from shoulder to neck and the hollow between my collarbones. When her quick tongue darts out to trace the shell of my ear, I shudder. The drugs must have finally worn off, because I feel myself warming for the first time tonight. “Finnick,” she whispers. “I love you—”

I can’t stand to hear that, not from Annie. So I kiss her quiet, slip a hand between her thighs, and slide two fingers inside of her.

“You’re wetter than home,” I say, and it’s true. More so when I curl my fingers, beckoning her forward—closer to me, closer to coming. “Were you like this in the ballroom, when I touched you?”

“Yes?” It comes out a question, eager but unsure. Annie’s not fluent in pillow talk, and something about that sends a jolt through me. All at once I want her, need to fuck her like I’ll die if I don’t. Under me she’s subtle curves and rocking warmth. Open legs, cradling my hips as I push inside—and then I feel her. Tight, slick heat, stretched around my cock, gripping me, pulling me in.

Annie whimpers, but whether that sound is pained or pleased I’m not sure, can’t tell and barely care. “Yes,” she says, even though I never asked. Why didn’t I ask?

In the beginning I go gentle and steady. Then I slow our rhythm, stretch out the slide of skin on skin, and tell her to beg. Love me becomes have me, you can have me becomes fuck me.

For a moment all I can feel are handcuffs snapping closed, grabbing fingers and greedy cunt. I’m angry all over again but still aching, and Annie knows, because her hands untangle from my hair and dart down to cover her ears. But I catch her wrists, drag them over her head and let my weight do the rest.

I spread her arms apart, wide as they’ll go. Pinned, she’s a butterfly behind glass, pretty and splayed. Annie must like being caged better than I do, because soon she shivers beneath me, coming and crying at once. Back arched, small breasts thrust forward, toes curled and legs taut; she’s lovely like this and so tight it almost hurts.

On the low tide of our touch she says those three unwanted words, passes them from her mouth to mine like a hard candy secret.

“Don’t,” I say.

The camera loves me too. I’m sick to death of love.

But then my climax creeps up on me, sharp and sweet, and I can’t think anymore. There’s nothing but Annie beneath me, her body tight and wet around mine.

In the soft moment right after, I feel something new. A warmth, quiet and gentle, as Annie looks up at me with heavy-lidded green eyes. That love she promised is raw and open as a wound.

It’s terrifying. And tempting, which is the scariest part of all.

The knot around her throat unties easily, and I take a green sea glass token with me when I go. It’s all she has left of the boy who loved her, who died at her side. Stealing it is cruel, but I don’t do it out of spite or jealousy. The reason is simple: my patrons always pay, and Annie is no exception.

#odesta #odesta fanfiction #odesta fic #odesta fanfic #finnick odair #annie cresta #thg #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fic

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tendertenebrosity · 4 years

Text

Part 4 of my redone opening! I’m almost done with this rewritten part, looking forward to getting onto some other stuff. I’ll be more comfortable once it’s a coherent whole. New masterpost is here.

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi

“Have it?” the man on the throne said. “What for?”

Helis didn’t look at him; they were too busy looking up at Illiam, their mouth working soundlessly, trying to understand. He was standing with his feet planted firmly, head up, one hand on his swordhilt casually. A man who belonged here, whose confidence in his upper hand was fully justified. They tried in vain to work their arms into an easier position, but the silver-threaded squares of the net were too constricting. He’s here. Of course he’s here, but why is he HERE?

Illiam shrugged, one hand flicking the matter away as if it was inconsequential. “Whatever I want,” he said. “You were going to kill them anyway, weren’t you?”

“I was,” the man on the throne said. “Apparently it has magic, and being from the South will make it useless anyway. Why do you want it?”

The corner of Illiam’s mouth lifted in a cold approximation of a smile. “Well. That’s just it.”

He stooped down over Helis.

He was suddenly startlingly close to them, and Helis’ breath hitched in their chest. He didn’t meet their eyes as he tugged a fold of net aside.

He seemed to be looking for something, pushing feathers and hair aside, patting their clothing. They tried unsuccessfully to fend him off with one arm as he slid a cold, impersonal hand inside their downy jacket.

They dragged in a sobbing breath. “Illiam - don’t! It’s me, Illiam, please - ”

“Shut up, Helis, I can see it’s you,” Illiam said, his voice like the crack of a whip. “Do you think I want every random beast that gets dragged in front of me? Ah, here.”

He stood, holding up the object he’d retrieved from the pocket inside Helis’ clothing. A disc of metal, polished and shining in the light. He held it up in one hand so that the onlookers could see it. “Academy medallion,” he said. “Only granted to those who’ve attended and graduated from the Crestmead Academy of Magic. The highest mark of magical education you can get in all the Southern continent.”

There was a hushed pause. Then it was broken by a hoarse bark of laughter from the man on the throne.

“Oh, I see!” he said. “A little friend from your Academy days, Illiam?”

“A classmate,” Illiam corrected, his lip curling. “You must admit it’s an amusing coincidence. I want them. To keep.”

Helis gaped up at him, wordless, their heart fluttering in their ribcage. Their mind was racing. To keep? What’s that supposed to mean? What is he doing here - is this his - he comes from Toralda, I knew that, but I never thought to meet him again! Their stomach churned with something like hope, or dread, or both. The man on the dais – who, they were realising, had to be Illiam’s father – had planned to kill them, with as little concern as swatting a bug or throwing a piece of rubbish into the fire. But Illiam stopped him.

“Hey,” Reed said, from beside Helis. His voice wavered and pitched with outrage. “You can’t do that! Helis is with me, they’re - we’re of equal rank, they’re not a slave, you can’t just take -”

Illiam flicked his fingers casually; Helis didn’t see what happened to Reed, but he went silent. Illiam didn’t even look at him; his gaze was fixed forward, on his father’s throne.

Helis’ mind raced. They had known that Illiam was the son of a duke. But that kind of thing had never seemed very important at the Academy; he wasn’t the only one of their class with a title or a lot of money, Toralda was a long way away, and whatever Illiam’s other faults, he had never made a big deal about it.

But over the course of the last few years Helis had paid more attention to politics - enough to realise now that Illiam’s father was very powerful indeed.

Illiam had not… parted on good terms with the rest of the group. But he and Helis had never actually argued. As such. After the scene at Helis’ birthday party, the two of them had been civil, spoken to each other occasionally in class, and otherwise avoided each other for the last few months until graduation. How much grudge could he bear them? They hadn’t done anything to him, they hadn’t even asked their friends to avoid him or spoken badly about him. They just hadn’t wanted to talk about it at all.

He doesn’t want me to die, so maybe… maybe this is a good thing? Maybe Illiam will help us?

This was the first, sickening, tantalising morsel of hope Helis had had since they’re been taken prisoner, but Illiam’s voice echoed in their head. Shut up, Helis. You were going to kill the creature anyway. Cold, contemptuous. What for? Whatever I want.

“I suppose it is, at that,” Duke de Graer said, responding to Illiam as if Reed hadn’t spoken. When Helis twisted their neck to look at him, he was shaking his head. “I don’t see why you’re making it more than that. This isn’t some half-drowned mongrel puppy you’re proposing on ‘keeping’. It might be dangerous.”

“Oh, I know,” Illiam agreed readily. “It’s a good thing I’ve got the best magical education to be found from both sides of the continent, isn’t it?” He tipped his head up arrogantly, and spun Helis’ Academy medallion between his fingers. “I can handle it.”

The Duke looked unimpressed. “What for, though?”

Illiam tucked the medallion into one of his pockets. He tucked his hands behind his back, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I could use them,” he said. “In my work. They’ll know how to handle my tools safely, they know the language… I’ve always resisted getting any kind of assistant, but my work on the Pass spell might change that.”

The Duke considered, for a long moment, long enough for low murmurs to begin in the crowd around them. Then he sat back in the throne and shrugged.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he said, dispassionately. “You’re to keep it in silver at all times; I’m not having it about otherwise.” He tapped a finger on the arm of the throne, meaningfully, his voice hardening. “And - Illiam. If your new ‘assistant’ gets away from you, or causes you to be distracted, or is an inconvenience in any fashion… it’s coming out of your hide. Metaphorical and otherwise. Am I clear?”

The murmurs from the crowd surged. Helis saw, from their position directly below, the bunch of muscles as Illiam’s jaw tightened. He gave no other indication of his displeasure, though, giving another smooth practiced bow. “Of course, your grace. I expected nothing less.”

“Take it if you’re going to, then,” the Duke said, a casual wave of his hand. “You don’t have some convoluted reason to want the other one, do you?”

Helis’ breath caught. Reed!

They saw the angle of Illiam’s jaw change; his gaze fell towards Reed for a moment, cold, impassive.

Helis pushed themselves up and found words. “Please,” they gasped, directing their words at Illiam. Their fingers twined in the net, helplessly. “Please, could you - please - ”

“No, your grace. Thank you,” Illiam said, ignoring them. He clicked his fingers at the guard who had been standing behind Helis. “Bring them.” He turned to stride away, a swirl of black cloak, not even looking behind to see his order carried out.

Helis’ world tilted as they were picked up, again, unseen hands turning them over and hoisting them off the ground. They thrashed as they hadn’t the first time.

“Illiam! Wait!” they cried out. “Reed!”

The point of a shoulder smacked into their middle and they lost their breath. Everything was a senseless whirl, green and grey forest mixed with flashes of colour as the guard followed Illiam through the parting crowd. Helis craned their head, blinking back tears, hunting for a glimpse of Reed’s curly head behind them. They didn’t get one It suddenly seemed of huge importance that they weren’t separated - what was going to happen to him? They thought he was a spy! What was going to happen to Helis?

Which of them was worse off, now that Illiam supposedly had a ‘use’ for Helis?

“Re-eed,” they wheezed, as the sounds of the group of people they’d just left retreated. “Wait. Wait - ow - ”

They were only carried a short distance before a curt word from Illiam made the soldier stop. They were dumped on the ground, wings and ribs protesting.

“Get that off,” Illiam ordered. “I assume we brought something more permanent than a net for magic-workers?”

Helis managed to snatch a breath just before were rolled, over and over, tumbled from side to side like a bundle of clothes as the netting was unwound from them. Something caught and ripped; Helis yelped with surprise and flapped their wing, instinctively trying to shove away from the pain. A dull snap; Helis realised, too late, that that not-quite-pain breaking sensation was one of their primary feathers.

The final layer was unrolled and they tumbled free of the netting at last, a few soft grey contour feathers fluttering to the ground around them. Crunch, on their face into mud and snow.

“Careful,” Illiam’s voice admonished, above them and close. “Clumsy idiot. I’d like the creature in one piece.”

The guard pulled Helis up, and then shoved them roughly into position - on their hands and knees on the ground. Their fingers stung, and they curled them into dirty, scuffed fists in the snow. They shivered pitifully, unfolding their wings to mantle them around their shoulders. The right one ached and throbbed. When Helis twisted to look, the usual graceful row of white flight feathers was marred, full of gaps. Broken, or missing, or frayed apart.

The third and fourth primaries dangled from shreds.

“Go and fetch the silver cuffs.” There was a pause - longer than usual. Was the guard hesitating? Illiam seemed to think so. His voice rose sarcastically. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Of course, my lord. Right away.”

“At your leisure, I’m sure! Incompetent idiot. Get out of my sight.”

Helis raised their gaze from their hands, as the soldier left. Illiam was standing close by, amongst a line of dingy grey-brown field tents. Away from his father, and the watching gaze of the crowd, he seemed to have let the smooth courteous mask over his face drop.

He looked furious.

As Helis watched, he flicked snow off his shoulders with one hand, let out a deep huff of breath that plumed white in the cold air, and turned away, folding his arms.

Helis licked their lips, rethinking their next words. Illiam and the guard hadn’t taken them very far; if Helis looked behind them, through the loose line of tents the group they’d just left was visible. They couldn’t see Reed.

Helis’ wings were free now. They’d been too slow to take off before because they hadn’t wanted to leave Reed behind - that had been a mistake, they realised now. If Helis had been free they could have helped him. It hurt, but maybe they shouldn’t make the same mistake again.

They eased their wings open and closed, assessing the pain levels. Could they fly? Maybe. Maybe not. They’d never broken feathers like that before. In any case, they’d need space and time to take off, which they didn’t have.

Helis was not a martial mage, never had been, but could they do something to buy themselves some time now that the net was off? A flare of light, a burst of wind? They reached for power, and for the first time in hours it answered, warming the space under their breastbone and the palms of their hands. If they could only –

Illiam moved, boots crunching in the snow, to look down at Helis.

His eyes met Helis’, and they could tell that he knew what they had been thinking. They narrowed.

He lifted one hand, sparks gathering between his fingers. “Try it,” he invited. His voice was almost soft. “Go ahead. Who do you think is faster, Helis?”

Him. He’d always been faster than anyone else, except maybe Ki. Definitely faster than Helis. They let the magic fizzle out, sat back on their ankles and shoved their hands into their armpits for warmth. “Sorry,” they babbled. “Illiam, I - ”

“Shut up. Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you’re causing me, Helis?” he asked, almost conversationally. He flicked his fingers, sparks flying free. One of them hissed and sputtered in the snow near Helis’ bare, frozen foot, and they flinched. Illiam’s face had gone smooth and superior again. “Any notion at all of what you’ve stumbled into? If I were you, I’d keep myself very, very quiet, and do exactly as I say. You might yet survive this idiocy.”

“Illiam, please!” they gasped, looking up at him. “Tell me what’s going on! What about Reed? We’re not spies, tell your father Reed’s not a spy! You have to believe me, do I seem like I’d make a good spy to you?”

“Considering you’re in government colours, I would say not,” he said, voice loaded with contempt. “Terms of your scholarship, I assume. But you specialised in artificing. Why the hell did they send you to Rosdan?”

“Material gathering,” Helis said, swallowing hard. “There’ve been shortages… If you look in our pack you’ll see… nowhere else but the North produces conduit stone, not on this continent, so - Reed and I were just here looking for some, and you’re not supposed to be here and - Illiam, don’t let them hurt him!”

His gaze slid over to the group of nobles in the centre of camp, where his father was still holding court.

“Conduit stone,” he said flatly. “Mm. Not worth it, Helis.”

“What’s not worth - what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer them. He was still looking over Helis’ shoulder, to their right, at the centre of camp. Was something happening over there?

There was a noise from that direction - a voice being raised, over the wind. Helis twisted where they sat, trying to see what Illiam could. Fear seized them, and they pushed themselves upright with one frozen hand. They stumbled as they got their numb feet underneath them, wings and arms spread for balance. Helis dragged in a breath. “Is that -”

Helis heard Illiam swear, from behind them - and then a hand, cold and pale, had latched onto their wrist.

They shrieked, unable to stop it, trying to pull away. Illiam yanked them closer.

“That’s quite enough, I think,” he said, sounding impatient. His voice was above their ear as he pulled them close, jostling their half-spread wing, his other hand clamping onto their shoulder. “Hold still.”

His left hand had dropped their wrist; Helis twisted in his grip and caught sight of it reaching for their face, fingers glowing with power.

“No!”

They wrenched themselves to the side, found themselves pinned by his grip on their shoulder. They threw their wings up, managing to bash one of them into Illiam’s face, and dropped to the ground, seeking a way out from under his hold.

They heard Illiam’s muffled snarl of surprise and pain, but he still didn’t let them go; he dropped too, almost landing on top of their legs. They rolled onto their side, kicking out wildly with heavy clawed feet. The slush on the ground was so cold, and their wings hurt, but they couldn’t spare any of those any attention.

“I said hold still, you stupid little creature!” Suddenly he was astride them, ignoring a glancing glow from their foot against his leg, pinning down one of their wings with an elbow and panting with effort. “This’ll go easier - if you just -”

“No!” Helis cried. “Illiam, please - why are you - please!”

His hands touched their hair. No! They bucked, tossed their head, but there was nothing more they could do; Illiam’s hands were on either side of their head, a bruising grip that caught in their curls and allowed his glowing fingers to make contact with their skin

Suddenly Helis’ body was leaden. They could feel Illiam’s magic, winding into their head, pushing them inexorably downwards into darkness.

“Don’t,” they moaned, trying to push him away, to hit him with one of their wings again, anything. They knew what was happening, and they couldn’t stop it; terror warred with sudden, frightening exhaustion and lost. One of their hands was caught in cold fingers and directed away, but the touch on their temple stayed. Helis twisted their head against the ground and not even the cold of the ice in their ear and down their neck could jolt them into wakefulness against Illiam’s magic. Their body slumped. “Illiam, please….”

His voice was fading, everything was fading, but they heard him start to mutter something. “I really don’t think you…”

They never heard the rest.

#Illiam #Helis #whump #non-binary whumpee #winged whumpee #fantasy whump #fantasy racism #fantasy bigotry #dehumanisation tw #tw claustrophobia #tw violence #tw: involuntary sleep

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